Failed PC concepts.
Too small to fail.
Yakob sat and listened as the old man spoke into the fire…
“… and never be too proud Yakob, when times are tough, there is no shame in working with your hands to keep your belly full” Yakob nodded.
…………………….
Yakob looked around the deserted bar wearily and sighed. He was beginning to think there must have been a public edict against drinking he hadn’t heard about. Still, he could only but ask. “We don’t serve children here, try the helm and blade” the barman joked as Yakob approached. Yakob forced a smile “Hah, good one, very droll, gets funnier every time I hear it, would you mind if I…”. The barman cut him off “I would, and you can’t, you know we have our house bard”.
“So where is he then?”
“Too quiet for him tonight so he’s gone whoring”
“So I could..”
“No”
“But”
“No”
“What about..”
“No”
“Are you sure?”
“Look, Yakob, I want to say yes, I really do, but you know how Garand gets when you step on his toes, how about you buy a drink instead?”
“I’m broke”
The barman sighed.
“Real broke, I have mortgaged myself in half a dozen places already, and I have a sick dog, c’mon man, give me a break”
“No”
Yakob groaned.
“But what you can do sprogling, is head downstairs and roll me up a cask of Rye, there is a hot meal in it for you”
“Done!” said Yakob as he headed for the cellar door.
“Hoi!” called out the barkeep “watch out for the rats!”
Yakob paused at the cellar door and shook his head sadly. He hated rats. Nasty chittery things. He took a smoking torch from a sconce next to the cellar door and ventured down into the dark cellar. It stank of spilt liquor and rotten wood.
He listened… he heard the thumping sound of people walking above him… a slow drip somewhere, and a skittering and chittering noise. He sighed, and walked further into the cellar pausing to look at casks.
“Thayan Red… Sembian white, Vinters pride, Dragon breath, Orcs piss?” Yakob grimaced and pressed on, stomping his feet every once in a while so the rats would know he was coming and scurry away. Eventually he found the cask of Rye. It was as large as he was. Carefully he tipped it onto its side and carefully rolled it around stacks of crates, barrels of wine, and around sagging floorboards.
The stairs presented a different challenge, but after much sweating, and more than a few choice curses he had reached the top of the stairs, cask intact. Although he was a mess of sweat and dust at the end of it.
The barman patted him on the heard patronisingly before picking him and putting him on a barstool. Yakob had a bowl of steaming soup put in front of him, as well as an almost clean spoon. A tentative swirl of the soup showed it was mercifully free of meat.
Yakob nodded at the barkeep and enjoyed his first meal in days.
Those who never really lived...
Those who never really lived...
12.August.2015: Never forget.
Re: Those who never really lived...
Frick
It was a mild winter…
Almost a dozen small hide tents were haphazardly set up around the mouth of the great cave, with dozens of roughly dressed tribesmen lounging just as haphazardly. They looked expectantly at the cave. Weak rays of sunshine braved their way through determined clouds but did little to take the chill from the air. Not a thing stirred…
Until a mighty crash of metal on metal echoed from the cave.
Hundreds of bats streamed out the cave chittering… followed some minutes later by a gangly youth carrying a very battered iron shield and a small bent mace.
The tribesmen remained silent although some grinned at the youth.
The tribe shaman rose with a serious look on his face. He walked over and stood next to the youth, putting his arm around the youths shoulders.
“He beat like a frickin’ man!” the shaman yelled out. The youth smiled self-consciously as the tribesmen roared approval. “Is he a frickin’ man?”. Cheers, nods, and shouts replied. The youth beamed and stood a little taller. The shamans hand tightened around the youths shoulders.
“And what is the mark of a frickin’ man?” the shaman shouted.
“Castration!, cut his frickin’ nut off!” yelled out an anonymous wit, prompting a look of alarm from the youth, and gales of laughter from the tribe.
“Circumcision, take whole frickin’ thing!” bawled another.
The shaman raised his hand to quiet the laughter, trying to stifle his own.
“Shut the frick up, you’ll scare the boy, he isn’t a man until after he bloods tonight, and he’ll need his frickin’ nut for that”
The tribesmen hushed as the shaman lead the boy away.
It was a mild winter…
Almost a dozen small hide tents were haphazardly set up around the mouth of the great cave, with dozens of roughly dressed tribesmen lounging just as haphazardly. They looked expectantly at the cave. Weak rays of sunshine braved their way through determined clouds but did little to take the chill from the air. Not a thing stirred…
Until a mighty crash of metal on metal echoed from the cave.
Hundreds of bats streamed out the cave chittering… followed some minutes later by a gangly youth carrying a very battered iron shield and a small bent mace.
The tribesmen remained silent although some grinned at the youth.
The tribe shaman rose with a serious look on his face. He walked over and stood next to the youth, putting his arm around the youths shoulders.
“He beat like a frickin’ man!” the shaman yelled out. The youth smiled self-consciously as the tribesmen roared approval. “Is he a frickin’ man?”. Cheers, nods, and shouts replied. The youth beamed and stood a little taller. The shamans hand tightened around the youths shoulders.
“And what is the mark of a frickin’ man?” the shaman shouted.
“Castration!, cut his frickin’ nut off!” yelled out an anonymous wit, prompting a look of alarm from the youth, and gales of laughter from the tribe.
“Circumcision, take whole frickin’ thing!” bawled another.
The shaman raised his hand to quiet the laughter, trying to stifle his own.
“Shut the frick up, you’ll scare the boy, he isn’t a man until after he bloods tonight, and he’ll need his frickin’ nut for that”
The tribesmen hushed as the shaman lead the boy away.
12.August.2015: Never forget.
Re: Those who never really lived...
Frick!
A pair of shady characters sat in a dark attic on rickety chairs peering out of rickety shutters at the long street below. Frick leaned back and sighed noisily. “Gods, your breath stinks like shit” observed Badger. Frick shrugged then retorted “He told me loved me”. This earned a chuckle from Badger.
“I could be asleep right now Badge, with your missus curled up at the foot of my bed”
Badger snorted but kept his eyes on the street “Your turn in the queue has come up already huh?”
“It’s like birthdays, the clap, and hin, they just sneak up on ya”
There was a snicker from the open trapdoor of the attic which startled Frick and Badger. “Figures” snorted Badger as a small figure poked his head up. “While you two boof-heads were busy talking shit, Lim has taken Grey lane, he’s halfway home already, so you two may as well piss off home for some man to orc loving, and hope he comes this way tomorrow night”. The hin ducked down the ladder with a laugh as an apple core was thrown his way.
Badger winked at Frick “How about it stud?”. Frick shook his head “You know I like my woman with much less cock than you have, besides, I would destroy you, then you’d surely be no good for work tomorrow night”. Badger acknowledged the truth of the statement with a laugh, as Frick stood, his large frame making the small attic seem very small indeed. He spoke again as moved towards the trap door, the floorboards creaking under his bulk.
“Actually… you know… I could really use tomorrow night off, Star has been on my case to take her out”
“You know that’s not going to happen until we deal with Lim”
“Exactly” noted Frick with finality. “Feel like going for a run?”
“Does it matter?” asked Badger wearily.
“Nah”
…….
The pair raced through the streets, Badger running with a familiarity of corners that barely kept him up with the long stride of Frick. Badger huffed “we’ll *huff* take *huff* the sec *huff* second *huff* right *after* plank *huff* bridge”. Frick nodded, not wasting breath on a reply. They ran into the night, leaving nothing but echoes, and the uneasiness that noises at night bring in those who hear them.
……..
“There!” wheezed Badger, pointing up the street at the house of Lim where a figure stood in the doorway patting down his pockets. Frick who had already picked him out in the darkness said nothing but increased his pace, no longer bothering to remain quiet. At the thump of footsteps the figure at the door spun around in alarm, looking around for help. He franticly scrambled in his pocket, producing a key. He fumbled it into the lock… not long to go now
Frick lowered his head, his pace easily outdistancing Badgers who was wheezing. Not long to go now….
Lim jiggled the key, damn this lock! He looked over his shoulder again, some calm part of his mind noting that he really should have oiled his lock, paid his debts, and wasn’t it dark now that something was blocking the moonlight?… oh frick…
Frick crashed into Lim, and then the door which smashed inwards. Badger winced at the enormous crash from up the street as he watched Frick dive into Lim, his bulk carrying him and this target through the door and into the darkness of the house beyond. Some moments later Frick emerged, rubbing his elbow, tiredly jogging back up the street towards Badger.
“He got the message?”
“He got the message”
“He is alive?”
“He is alive”
“Hurt? Actually silly question”
“Yeah”
“Tomorrow night off?”
“Tomorrow night off”
……
Frick stood at the doorway jiggling his key in the lock. A *muffled* but unintelligible question came from the door.
“Honey?”
“You're home” *muffled*
“Yeah”
“Well come on in then” *muffled*
“I’m trying, I think we need to oil our lock”
“Did you try jiggling it?” *muffled*
“Yeah”
“Try again” *muffled*
“I am!” *click*
Frick frowned to himself and eased the door open. He paused at the doorway before looking over his shoulder with a vague feeling of amusement. No one chasing after him tonight…
……
Star tutted and stood in front of Frick poking at his chest. “Gods Frick, do you have to bring your work home with you?”. Frick looked down at a few drops and smears of blood which had stained his shirt (further). “Oh, ah, sorry, it’ll wash out I think”.
“Oh, and I suppose you’ll be doing that will you?”
“I could ask my mother”
Star poked him in the chest again “Don’t you dare! That’s my job not hers”
“Ah… Star, baby, you know I love you”
Star rolled her eyes but smiled with crooked teeth. “You love me only because I wash your clothes”.
“Nah, I love you because you have great tits, getting my clothes washed is just a bonus” Frick took her punch to his chest with a laugh, but winced and pulled away as she pinched and twisted his skin.
“Ah!”
“Well mind your manners next time asshole”
“I don’t need to with you doing it for me, my sweetest honey blossom” Frick teased her.
…….
A pair of shady characters sat in a dark attic on rickety chairs peering out of rickety shutters at the long street below. Frick leaned back and sighed noisily. “Gods, your breath stinks like shit” observed Badger. Frick shrugged then retorted “He told me loved me”. This earned a chuckle from Badger.
“I could be asleep right now Badge, with your missus curled up at the foot of my bed”
Badger snorted but kept his eyes on the street “Your turn in the queue has come up already huh?”
“It’s like birthdays, the clap, and hin, they just sneak up on ya”
There was a snicker from the open trapdoor of the attic which startled Frick and Badger. “Figures” snorted Badger as a small figure poked his head up. “While you two boof-heads were busy talking shit, Lim has taken Grey lane, he’s halfway home already, so you two may as well piss off home for some man to orc loving, and hope he comes this way tomorrow night”. The hin ducked down the ladder with a laugh as an apple core was thrown his way.
Badger winked at Frick “How about it stud?”. Frick shook his head “You know I like my woman with much less cock than you have, besides, I would destroy you, then you’d surely be no good for work tomorrow night”. Badger acknowledged the truth of the statement with a laugh, as Frick stood, his large frame making the small attic seem very small indeed. He spoke again as moved towards the trap door, the floorboards creaking under his bulk.
“Actually… you know… I could really use tomorrow night off, Star has been on my case to take her out”
“You know that’s not going to happen until we deal with Lim”
“Exactly” noted Frick with finality. “Feel like going for a run?”
“Does it matter?” asked Badger wearily.
“Nah”
…….
The pair raced through the streets, Badger running with a familiarity of corners that barely kept him up with the long stride of Frick. Badger huffed “we’ll *huff* take *huff* the sec *huff* second *huff* right *after* plank *huff* bridge”. Frick nodded, not wasting breath on a reply. They ran into the night, leaving nothing but echoes, and the uneasiness that noises at night bring in those who hear them.
……..
“There!” wheezed Badger, pointing up the street at the house of Lim where a figure stood in the doorway patting down his pockets. Frick who had already picked him out in the darkness said nothing but increased his pace, no longer bothering to remain quiet. At the thump of footsteps the figure at the door spun around in alarm, looking around for help. He franticly scrambled in his pocket, producing a key. He fumbled it into the lock… not long to go now
Frick lowered his head, his pace easily outdistancing Badgers who was wheezing. Not long to go now….
Lim jiggled the key, damn this lock! He looked over his shoulder again, some calm part of his mind noting that he really should have oiled his lock, paid his debts, and wasn’t it dark now that something was blocking the moonlight?… oh frick…
Frick crashed into Lim, and then the door which smashed inwards. Badger winced at the enormous crash from up the street as he watched Frick dive into Lim, his bulk carrying him and this target through the door and into the darkness of the house beyond. Some moments later Frick emerged, rubbing his elbow, tiredly jogging back up the street towards Badger.
“He got the message?”
“He got the message”
“He is alive?”
“He is alive”
“Hurt? Actually silly question”
“Yeah”
“Tomorrow night off?”
“Tomorrow night off”
……
Frick stood at the doorway jiggling his key in the lock. A *muffled* but unintelligible question came from the door.
“Honey?”
“You're home” *muffled*
“Yeah”
“Well come on in then” *muffled*
“I’m trying, I think we need to oil our lock”
“Did you try jiggling it?” *muffled*
“Yeah”
“Try again” *muffled*
“I am!” *click*
Frick frowned to himself and eased the door open. He paused at the doorway before looking over his shoulder with a vague feeling of amusement. No one chasing after him tonight…
……
Star tutted and stood in front of Frick poking at his chest. “Gods Frick, do you have to bring your work home with you?”. Frick looked down at a few drops and smears of blood which had stained his shirt (further). “Oh, ah, sorry, it’ll wash out I think”.
“Oh, and I suppose you’ll be doing that will you?”
“I could ask my mother”
Star poked him in the chest again “Don’t you dare! That’s my job not hers”
“Ah… Star, baby, you know I love you”
Star rolled her eyes but smiled with crooked teeth. “You love me only because I wash your clothes”.
“Nah, I love you because you have great tits, getting my clothes washed is just a bonus” Frick took her punch to his chest with a laugh, but winced and pulled away as she pinched and twisted his skin.
“Ah!”
“Well mind your manners next time asshole”
“I don’t need to with you doing it for me, my sweetest honey blossom” Frick teased her.
…….
12.August.2015: Never forget.
Re: Those who never really lived...
Whoops! Found another one.
Anything’s better than harvesting bat shit.
“Anything’s better than harvesting bat shit” agreed Yaril loudly over the chittering of the bats in the cramped fissure. He crouched and scraped a layer of crusted guano into one sack using a small trowel. He then scooped the now exposed softer layer into a different sack.
“What about eating bat shit?” asked his harvesting partner and cousin, Yonas who stood over him holding a flickering torch. “Eating bat shit is not a profession Yonas! It’s a sickness!” Yonas laughed.
Yaril shifted his weight and sighed as his toes sank further into the guano. He was getting tired of this crap. “I’ve had enough Yonas”.
“What?”
“I said I have had enough”
“I can’t hear you, the bats are making too much noise”
Yaril yelled back for his own amusement “I said the bats are making too much noise”
The bats took flight at Yaril’s yelling and took flight streaming past Yonas’s head who yelped and dropped the torch he had been holding… which fell and bounced of the back of Yaril. Yaril let out an equally loud yelp as much out of surprise as pain. “Fffff….” Yaril held in the curse and picked up the torch.
He glared at the sheepish looking Yonas before pointing at himself then in the direction of the exit. Yonas pointed at himself and the 2 sacks with an apologetic look. Yaril nodded back angrily.
They did not speak until they reached the exit, clambering over fallen rocks, easing their way through narrow fissures and passage ways, always keeping their heads down when bats would fly past somehow missing them in the low light.
“Sorry” said Yonas as they emerged from the cave. Yaril dragged an old thorn bush across the mouth of the cave.
Yaril shrugged “It didn’t hurt Yonas, and I wasn’t really angry at you… it’s just everything.”
“I am so sick of shovelling bat shit, I deserve better!” the anger in his voice surprised both of them.
“But…” Yonas trailed off… “harvesting bat shit is what we do, it’s what our families have done for a long time”
“Look at us Yonas!, look at me!” Yaril shouted throwing down his trowel and the torch. He closed his eyes and spoke in a calmer but very firm tone “I am covered in shit, in crap, it’s has come out of a bats arse, not just one bat, but generations of them, all leaving their crap, knowing it is crap, thinking its crap, no one wants this! I’ll just drop it on the ground, with all the other crap. It is in my hair, on my hands, in between my toes, under my nails, it has stained my damned feet and hands!, this is no way for anyone to live!” Yonas finished with tears in his eyes.
“Now I’m crying and I can’t even wipe away my tears! Do you know why Yonas?”
Yonas replied slowly “Because your hands are covered in bat shit”.
“and…” demanded Yaril.
“and… your father got the milk eye from bat shit in his eye, and now he can’t see properly”.
Yaril picked up the torch and trowel and stormed away from the cave following a faint trail. Yonas followed quickly with the 2 sacks over his shoulders. They stopped at the creek to wash, dropping the sacks of crap onto a large pile of the same and returning the tools to a small lean-to. They stripped away the loincloths they had been wearing and washed in well-practised motions, removing sweat, soot, and shit
After scrubbing himself down very vigorously Yaris carefully untied the twine which bound his hair in a rag, letting his long hair fall to his shoulders. He dunked his head under water and scrubbed at his scalp and hair.
He emerged to find Yonas dressed and watching him. “See something you like?” joked Yaril lowering the tension somewhat from earlier. “Nah” retorted Yonas “just wondering when you’ll hit puberty”. Yaril snorted “right before I’ll hit you”. Yonas chuckled knowing he was in no way serious.
Yaril dressed in his peasants shift and they walked back to their hovel in silence.
…………..
After their thin soup Yaril asked “How was it?”.
Yonas shrugged “Allright”.
Yaril replied “But it would have been better with soup bread right? or some meat, or a turnip?”
“Where are you going with this Yaril?” asked Yonas wearily.
Yonas paused.
“How much is each shit sack worth to us Yaril?”
“5 coppers but you know that already Yonas”
“But… we don’t sell to the end user do we? We sell to the middleman, so how much do you reckon he gets?”
“No idea, how much would you pay for a shit sack?”
“I wouldn’t, I have plenty already, but that is kinda my point, maybe we can get more than 5 coppers if we sell it ourselves.”
“To the magic humans?” asked Yonas incredulously.
“To Helrooa” confirmed Yaril sagely.
……………….
The following day saw Yaril set off for Helrooa stating “No time like the present”. He took with him a single shit sack, carefully packed with a balance of their highest grade and lowest moisture content. He was going to be carrying on his back for a long way after all. They also quickly threw in other things wizards were known to covet, tadpoles from the creek, a skin full of stump water, and leaves and roots from half a dozen random plants. Yaril joked “If they want virgins blood, I’ll send for you”. For protection Yaril took a stout stick. Yonas pressed their savings into Yarils hand.
Yaril shook his head saying “I’ll have money after I sell the shit”.
…………….
It turns out that “Helrooa” was a lot further away than Yaril had first thought. After a day of walking he made was out of the hills and on the road. He was in good spirits despite his rumbling belly. At least he wasn’t ankle deep in shit today, which made it a very special day indeed. He saw few travellers on the road, most gave him a wide berth, probably due to the ragged clothes he wore. Twice he confirmed with travellers he was heading in the right direction, and how far “Helrooa” was away.
He stopped a scholarly looking man to ask if he was a wizard. He wasn’t and asked “for what possible reason would you want to meet a wizard for?”. Yaril replied that “wizards buy shit sacks and I have my best grade right here on my back”. The man hurried off muttering about “hin” and “deviant wizards”. Yaril shrugged and continued on his way.
He slept under bushes and in trees, often poorly, waking at the smallest noise. He would shudder awake and hug his shit sack to his chest.
His belly began to ache from lack of food, but he filled it with water and pressed on regardless. He was well used to hunger.
At times he would wonder at the feasibility and wisdom of what he was doing.
………………
Anything’s better than harvesting bat shit.
“Anything’s better than harvesting bat shit” agreed Yaril loudly over the chittering of the bats in the cramped fissure. He crouched and scraped a layer of crusted guano into one sack using a small trowel. He then scooped the now exposed softer layer into a different sack.
“What about eating bat shit?” asked his harvesting partner and cousin, Yonas who stood over him holding a flickering torch. “Eating bat shit is not a profession Yonas! It’s a sickness!” Yonas laughed.
Yaril shifted his weight and sighed as his toes sank further into the guano. He was getting tired of this crap. “I’ve had enough Yonas”.
“What?”
“I said I have had enough”
“I can’t hear you, the bats are making too much noise”
Yaril yelled back for his own amusement “I said the bats are making too much noise”
The bats took flight at Yaril’s yelling and took flight streaming past Yonas’s head who yelped and dropped the torch he had been holding… which fell and bounced of the back of Yaril. Yaril let out an equally loud yelp as much out of surprise as pain. “Fffff….” Yaril held in the curse and picked up the torch.
He glared at the sheepish looking Yonas before pointing at himself then in the direction of the exit. Yonas pointed at himself and the 2 sacks with an apologetic look. Yaril nodded back angrily.
They did not speak until they reached the exit, clambering over fallen rocks, easing their way through narrow fissures and passage ways, always keeping their heads down when bats would fly past somehow missing them in the low light.
“Sorry” said Yonas as they emerged from the cave. Yaril dragged an old thorn bush across the mouth of the cave.
Yaril shrugged “It didn’t hurt Yonas, and I wasn’t really angry at you… it’s just everything.”
“I am so sick of shovelling bat shit, I deserve better!” the anger in his voice surprised both of them.
“But…” Yonas trailed off… “harvesting bat shit is what we do, it’s what our families have done for a long time”
“Look at us Yonas!, look at me!” Yaril shouted throwing down his trowel and the torch. He closed his eyes and spoke in a calmer but very firm tone “I am covered in shit, in crap, it’s has come out of a bats arse, not just one bat, but generations of them, all leaving their crap, knowing it is crap, thinking its crap, no one wants this! I’ll just drop it on the ground, with all the other crap. It is in my hair, on my hands, in between my toes, under my nails, it has stained my damned feet and hands!, this is no way for anyone to live!” Yonas finished with tears in his eyes.
“Now I’m crying and I can’t even wipe away my tears! Do you know why Yonas?”
Yonas replied slowly “Because your hands are covered in bat shit”.
“and…” demanded Yaril.
“and… your father got the milk eye from bat shit in his eye, and now he can’t see properly”.
Yaril picked up the torch and trowel and stormed away from the cave following a faint trail. Yonas followed quickly with the 2 sacks over his shoulders. They stopped at the creek to wash, dropping the sacks of crap onto a large pile of the same and returning the tools to a small lean-to. They stripped away the loincloths they had been wearing and washed in well-practised motions, removing sweat, soot, and shit
After scrubbing himself down very vigorously Yaris carefully untied the twine which bound his hair in a rag, letting his long hair fall to his shoulders. He dunked his head under water and scrubbed at his scalp and hair.
He emerged to find Yonas dressed and watching him. “See something you like?” joked Yaril lowering the tension somewhat from earlier. “Nah” retorted Yonas “just wondering when you’ll hit puberty”. Yaril snorted “right before I’ll hit you”. Yonas chuckled knowing he was in no way serious.
Yaril dressed in his peasants shift and they walked back to their hovel in silence.
…………..
After their thin soup Yaril asked “How was it?”.
Yonas shrugged “Allright”.
Yaril replied “But it would have been better with soup bread right? or some meat, or a turnip?”
“Where are you going with this Yaril?” asked Yonas wearily.
Yonas paused.
“How much is each shit sack worth to us Yaril?”
“5 coppers but you know that already Yonas”
“But… we don’t sell to the end user do we? We sell to the middleman, so how much do you reckon he gets?”
“No idea, how much would you pay for a shit sack?”
“I wouldn’t, I have plenty already, but that is kinda my point, maybe we can get more than 5 coppers if we sell it ourselves.”
“To the magic humans?” asked Yonas incredulously.
“To Helrooa” confirmed Yaril sagely.
……………….
The following day saw Yaril set off for Helrooa stating “No time like the present”. He took with him a single shit sack, carefully packed with a balance of their highest grade and lowest moisture content. He was going to be carrying on his back for a long way after all. They also quickly threw in other things wizards were known to covet, tadpoles from the creek, a skin full of stump water, and leaves and roots from half a dozen random plants. Yaril joked “If they want virgins blood, I’ll send for you”. For protection Yaril took a stout stick. Yonas pressed their savings into Yarils hand.
Yaril shook his head saying “I’ll have money after I sell the shit”.
…………….
It turns out that “Helrooa” was a lot further away than Yaril had first thought. After a day of walking he made was out of the hills and on the road. He was in good spirits despite his rumbling belly. At least he wasn’t ankle deep in shit today, which made it a very special day indeed. He saw few travellers on the road, most gave him a wide berth, probably due to the ragged clothes he wore. Twice he confirmed with travellers he was heading in the right direction, and how far “Helrooa” was away.
He stopped a scholarly looking man to ask if he was a wizard. He wasn’t and asked “for what possible reason would you want to meet a wizard for?”. Yaril replied that “wizards buy shit sacks and I have my best grade right here on my back”. The man hurried off muttering about “hin” and “deviant wizards”. Yaril shrugged and continued on his way.
He slept under bushes and in trees, often poorly, waking at the smallest noise. He would shudder awake and hug his shit sack to his chest.
His belly began to ache from lack of food, but he filled it with water and pressed on regardless. He was well used to hunger.
At times he would wonder at the feasibility and wisdom of what he was doing.
………………
12.August.2015: Never forget.