2d of Winter, 510 A.V.
“ Oh what a sight this was, a sailor with no ship, a shipwright with no ship, a pirate with no ship the list continued in a similar fashion. The Empty Night crew had disbanded each receiving their appropriate cut of the recent profits and sent to do what ever their hearts demanded of them. So Trios left the ship with a fair amount of coin before traversing the Sea of Grass coastline towards where he thought a Drykas port was, and with luck steal or purchase a craft to suit his needs. Maybe, Trios had objected to the latter, purchase in this place, the Drykas were a bit touchy when it came to outsiders especially when it came to the liberation of acquired artifacts. But the whole ship-less-ness weighed heavy in Trios’s pride and drove him northward up the coast along Zindal Bay. Staying away from the grassy plains was somewhat of a priority for two reasons thought Trios. One was that there were a number of things in that tall grass that could kill a man with one claw and two it was a bit of a comfort to be near one’s home and the sight of the “big blue wet thing” was a good boost to moral. So with nothing but a cutlass clasped in his right hand, a traveling bag slung over his left shoulder and the cloths on his back the young Isur walked forward in the sand. The weather Trios thought was more than accomodating for winter, plus being near the southern end of Mizahar meant a slightly warmer climate regardless of season. “I forgot how quiet solitude is” Said Trios to himself in an uncaring manner as he left footprints in the sand to mark his travels. It almost made the young male attempt his luck at singing but remembering that he had such a bad singing voice that some creature might kill him just to make him stop.So a hum and a sing like talk was a more appropriate thing to do compared to a full on belch of song. The Sea, oh the sea is the greatest to see A long distances may it stay between prison and me It’s a sure guarantee that we’ll all be free! Thank gods were surrounded by water. The song brought back some good memories of the past but it was better sung and song with a large number of people. But right now it kept Trio’s mind busy on something in his travels. The Drykas have their Ale ,the Kelvics have their speech, And their poets are paid about tenpence a week, Provided no harsh words on Mizahar they speak, Oh Lords what a price for devotion. It was a long song, but Trios doubted that it would be able to go on for a three day hike along the coastline. |
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