11 Galena 512
I must say that I'm quickly growing quite fond of this place; if it weren't for the small issue with the weather, it'd be quite pleasant. I quite like rural, small-town folk such as these. In big cities, people just become one of the crowd, bland and lifeless. People need to be given room to grow.
I had a very interesting conversation with a human rancher this morning. His name was Ocul, apparently an old human word meaning 'soil'. He pointed to a lonely mountain in the distance and told me that it had only recently appeared, having seemingly sprung up fully-formed out of the nether several years ago. Of course, something so fanciful could hardly be the truth -- he was likely just having some fun with the naive tourist, though of course I didn't openly accuse him of such to his face.
Ocul, as it turned out, was also something of an artist; he showed me some of his drawings, and as amateurish as they are, he obviously has quite a bit of talent. Pity he was born human, and so far out in the wilderness; any of the engravers back at the mountainhome would have taken such a talent as an apprentice in a heartbeat.
More-importantly, I was right about the local job opportunites. Very severely right, as it turns out.
This village is under attack. By what, I'm not sure. Oh, the tales told by the villagers were vivid enough, mark my words; I know exactly what it is I'm going up against, but I'm not sure what to call it. I'd say it was one of the forgotten beasts roaming the depths of the earth, but something in the pit of my stomach tells me otherwise. Ocul showed me a sketch of it he made -- it was a little rough, but it seems to be some kind of skinless, eyeless humanoid with clicking mandibles and limp, leathery wings. Got a nasty bite on it, too -- I'd give anything to forget the sight of the corpses the other villagers showed me, who had survived the attacks only to die in agony hours later. I won't bother describing any of it, as it's already been burned indelibly into my mind, and it'd be better not to inflict such grotesqueries on any who read this.
The villagers were quite reluctant to point me in the direction of their antagonist. It's not that they doubt my skill; anyone capable of hacking their way through the bush and bogeymen alone with naught but an iron spear and their own wits is self-evidently capable. The truth is, they don't want me to kill it. Apparently, it is the second such abomination they've faced since the founding of the village, and they fear that killing this one will provoke the wrath of yet worse horrors. Eventually, though, I found a young half-elven girl named Kepfu (I shan't share the translation, poor girl) who told me the direction that the beast had fled after its last attack; apparently, it had taken her infant brother with it. She seemed quite distraught; from what I understood, the two were orphans, abandoned by their mother in the village some time ago. I couldn't find it in me to tell her that the boy was almost certainly dead; I simply promised to bring him back -- and I will, by whatever means available to me.
I've already found the thing's tracks; they remind me vaguely of a chicken, if chickens were as big and heavy as a slightly-underfed human. Off I go, wish me luck, etc. etc. etc.. I've got food and water enough for several days, so if I'm lucky I may not even have to eat any vermin. All in all, this is shaping up to be rather fun!
The tracks are leading me in the direction of the lonely mountain Ocul pointed me to earlier. It looks to be a few days' travel on foot. In my experience, a big, tall mountain in the middle of flat plains usually spells 'volcano'. Maybe after I put down that creature, I'll hike up to the cone to take a look at the fires, maybe roast some veggies over them. Should be novel!
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Topic: [34.11] Spearbreakers - It shudders and begins to move (Read 2195844 times)