Zelgadiss Greywords (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chime_ra_tilt) wrote2007-09-28 11:52 pm
chime_ra_tilt) wrote2007-09-28 11:52 pm
Traveling to Damon's Spire
It's been a long few weeks of travel for Zelgadiss. The terrain is nothing he isn't used to, mountainous and rocky. There is a clear path through the mountain pass, but the abundance of hostile creatures that inhabit the less-populated regions of Lunar is nothing to take lightly. He's found that he cannot expect to travel very far from dealing with one group before another shows up.
They aren't exactly difficult to deal with, but, after a long day of uphill hiking, they do start to wear one down.
And it is strange. The rocks and grass, the few trees and the even fewer streams of fresh water... all are familiar in substance and appearance, but the stars overhead appear in constellations so very foreign to him, he often finds himself struck by a feeling that he is rather surprised to realize is homesickness. A yearning for something familiar. A couple of weeks into his journey, it occurred to him that it would be much better, perhaps, if he were not travelling alone... but no, he dismissed the idea almost right away. A traveling companion would just slow him down, or would drag him off to villages out of his way just to try some new food.
The thought had made him smile, though, if only for a short while.
Zelgadiss didn't sleep much on his trek, often sitting up late into the night, reclining with sword near to hand as he looks up at the bright stars, listening to the sounds of the night creatures moving beyond the reach of his firelight.
Soon the mountains fell into foothills, and the foothills turned into ordinary hills, and the hills into flatland, with patchy grass and the occasional tree. The going was easier, at least.
The creatures that he met, however, were just as annoying.
It was only another week of long days hiking and nights of sleeping lightly until Zel reached the village of thieves, Reza. Lucky he reached it when he did, really, for the last spring of fresh water was passed days before, and Zel was nearly out by the time he walked into the village.
"This is Reza, a refuge for those too guilty to face the law-abiding world."
...he thought it would be impolitic to let the thieves know that the name of their village bothered him.
Without much delay (best not give them too much time to start staring at him), he let them know that he had traveled to Reza in order to join the Thieves' Guild. Since he looked like a capable person, i.e. capable of cutting off the hand that stole from him, Zelgadiss was told relatively succinctly of the ordeal he would be required to complete before he could become a member:
To go to Damon's Spire and retrieve the Thieves' Handbook and the Thieves' Guild crest.
...what a coincidence.
Zel only spent two nights in Reza, resting at the inn, cleaning the dust and dirt of travel from himself and his clothes, eating better food than the travel fare he had brought with him, keeping what money he had out of reach of any thief too stupid to listen to common sense, and restocking some supplies. He did not yet know the properties that allowed that certain kind of nut to be able to heal wounds, or how that bit of starlight gave him back the energy needed to cast spells again, even after he was much wearied from a day of fighting his way through forests. He did not know how they did it, but he knew better than to go without them in this strange land.
He soon set off again in relatively high spirits. He was clean, well-rested, well-fed, and it was more of a walk than a hike. That was always a good thing.
There was little cover in the open land, so he spent many of his nights perched on a tree-branch, out of the reach of whatever might think to attack while he caught some sleep.
The grasslands may be less dusty than the more desert-like northwest, but the hot spring Mia had mentioned was still a welcome sight, indeed, when he finally reached it. On the hot and dusty road, one rarely got the luxury of a hot bath, and Zelgadiss made sure to take full advantage of the opportunity, glad he had thought to bring soap and towel with him.
A week or so more of traveling east brought him to the forest he had been told surrounded Damon's Spire. The creatures inhabiting the forest were much tougher than those that lived out in the grassy plains, and it took Zelgadiss a long time to find the test-giver he had been told to find. The test-giver gave him the password for the Spire, and, barely rested, Zelgadiss continued on his trek. Soon, the forest gave way to the grasslands on the other side, and by that time he could see the Spire rising in the distance.
He resolved to make that night the last he spent in the open country, and, through sheer determination, soon he was stepping inside the Spire he had traveled so long to reach.
They aren't exactly difficult to deal with, but, after a long day of uphill hiking, they do start to wear one down.
And it is strange. The rocks and grass, the few trees and the even fewer streams of fresh water... all are familiar in substance and appearance, but the stars overhead appear in constellations so very foreign to him, he often finds himself struck by a feeling that he is rather surprised to realize is homesickness. A yearning for something familiar. A couple of weeks into his journey, it occurred to him that it would be much better, perhaps, if he were not travelling alone... but no, he dismissed the idea almost right away. A traveling companion would just slow him down, or would drag him off to villages out of his way just to try some new food.
The thought had made him smile, though, if only for a short while.
Zelgadiss didn't sleep much on his trek, often sitting up late into the night, reclining with sword near to hand as he looks up at the bright stars, listening to the sounds of the night creatures moving beyond the reach of his firelight.
Soon the mountains fell into foothills, and the foothills turned into ordinary hills, and the hills into flatland, with patchy grass and the occasional tree. The going was easier, at least.
The creatures that he met, however, were just as annoying.
It was only another week of long days hiking and nights of sleeping lightly until Zel reached the village of thieves, Reza. Lucky he reached it when he did, really, for the last spring of fresh water was passed days before, and Zel was nearly out by the time he walked into the village.
"This is Reza, a refuge for those too guilty to face the law-abiding world."
...he thought it would be impolitic to let the thieves know that the name of their village bothered him.
Without much delay (best not give them too much time to start staring at him), he let them know that he had traveled to Reza in order to join the Thieves' Guild. Since he looked like a capable person, i.e. capable of cutting off the hand that stole from him, Zelgadiss was told relatively succinctly of the ordeal he would be required to complete before he could become a member:
To go to Damon's Spire and retrieve the Thieves' Handbook and the Thieves' Guild crest.
...what a coincidence.
Zel only spent two nights in Reza, resting at the inn, cleaning the dust and dirt of travel from himself and his clothes, eating better food than the travel fare he had brought with him, keeping what money he had out of reach of any thief too stupid to listen to common sense, and restocking some supplies. He did not yet know the properties that allowed that certain kind of nut to be able to heal wounds, or how that bit of starlight gave him back the energy needed to cast spells again, even after he was much wearied from a day of fighting his way through forests. He did not know how they did it, but he knew better than to go without them in this strange land.
He soon set off again in relatively high spirits. He was clean, well-rested, well-fed, and it was more of a walk than a hike. That was always a good thing.
There was little cover in the open land, so he spent many of his nights perched on a tree-branch, out of the reach of whatever might think to attack while he caught some sleep.
The grasslands may be less dusty than the more desert-like northwest, but the hot spring Mia had mentioned was still a welcome sight, indeed, when he finally reached it. On the hot and dusty road, one rarely got the luxury of a hot bath, and Zelgadiss made sure to take full advantage of the opportunity, glad he had thought to bring soap and towel with him.
A week or so more of traveling east brought him to the forest he had been told surrounded Damon's Spire. The creatures inhabiting the forest were much tougher than those that lived out in the grassy plains, and it took Zelgadiss a long time to find the test-giver he had been told to find. The test-giver gave him the password for the Spire, and, barely rested, Zelgadiss continued on his trek. Soon, the forest gave way to the grasslands on the other side, and by that time he could see the Spire rising in the distance.
He resolved to make that night the last he spent in the open country, and, through sheer determination, soon he was stepping inside the Spire he had traveled so long to reach.