Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » The difference between revelry and reverie (1x1)

The moon glowed in the sky above, casting it's pale countenance on the world below, it's blue haze catching the metal off of the wagons as they creaked through the fog. Warm glows emerged from the torches, fireflies danced in the thick fog, caustic and alluring. It was a dangerous night to travel, but it was one that reaped it's rewards. As they moved against the evening, pushing further alongside the road. The cacophony of crickets and mosquitoes consumed the air, mixed with the crashing of rolling waves below the cliff side.

This caravan was slated to a nearby port city. Still a few days ahead before the end of their journey, they had thought to perhaps catch time before it flew away by pushing a little deeper into the night then before. However, as they swatted at pest, and their visibily started to become clouded by the thick evening mist, it went without saying, that they didn't get very far. One loud shout confirmed it.

"Heel men!" a raunchy noise emerged from the back of the caravan. "Hold! Hold! This 'er weather is spookin' the horses. No need to lose any 'sources tonight. Let's camp for now and head out early in the morning. We'll make it to Aulurgard by the end of the week!" he shouted. And as such, the horses, came to thudding holt, the uneerie silence of the group slowly grumbling amongst themselves, as they prepared for the evening, moving to make a hasty fire and start preparing food for their sore stomachs.

As they scrambled to their work, a few of the men settled near the fire, placing their tasks to the side to catch up on the latest gossip while avoiding the venomous glares of the ringleader. "Say.. isn't Oloost the mad said to have lived in this region?" someone whispered to the other, as he moved a piece of tack into his mouth. "Yes'sim. Said his home is still around here, to this very day, but no one has found it yet. They are driven to lunacy, lost in the fog." a nervous man quivered. "Yeah, but imagine if we found it! Oloost had some of the world's grandest wealth! The man who finds it, need not work a day again!" a stout man whispered excitedly.

"No." the ring master roared. "No one goes searching for fairy tales tonight." he growled. "Pokin' people's grave is wishing for Illarch's ill will. You'd be best to heed the warnings and stay away!" He patrolled for a moment more, letting the silence drown the campfire, as he moved to deal with another member of the march. "Pfft. To hell with him. I will find Oloost's home. Spirits can't scare me!" he proclaimed. "We'll be back before dawn! Who's with me..?" he asked in tepidation. In reality, as much as his curiosity moved him, he was a cowardly fool. He wouldn't budge. But perhaps, that was for the best.

Included in this company of traders was Griffon Pardoner, a story teller by trade and heritage. Normally he would travel alone, but every now and then traveling with others had its perks. Like now, he managed strike a deal to keep group morale up in exchange for a free meal every day. The storyteller found it to be an easy bargain, and was on his way in no time. Times like this were mundane and repetitive, but it was never detrimental to his health to not be at constant risk of death or injury.

This isn't to say that he never looked for adventure as he traveled from one location to the next. From the moment whispers of 'Oloost' began to rise the adventurer was making his way away from the party and toward the woods. "No one goes searching for fairy tales tonight," Griffon could hear from behind him as the caravan faded. Rummaging through his backpack, he found a torch and paused briefly to light it. With hand-held fire casting shadows over his features he began to march forth into the woods grinning, for he had a feeling this could be an adventure he's been needing.