Winter 8, Day 1 of expedition
Mok's goal this week was to get some good honest sober work in. In this buisness it was necissary for one to train diligent and train hard. After several days of drinking it became apparent he needed to shake some of his rust off. Waking up an hour before dawn, Mok laid out everything that he was going to take on the trip. He wanted to be organized and prepared. His wilderness survival exprience in the jungle thaught him that much. First his clothes and armor: boots, cotton pants under wool, a cotton shirt under a wool sweater, and finally his shadowsilk cloak. He also sported a pair of gauntlets and his gladius. His bag had 3 days of trail ratons, fifty feet of rope, flint and tinder, a blanket, and some water skins. He also took with him a woodsman axe he had purchased the night before.
Slinging the pack over his shoulder, Mok stared off to the west. The sun's orange glow began to tint the landscape. It was time for him to get a move on. Using a random stick, he traced on the floor of the camp an arrow pointing west and the number ten. The number meant he would be out for ten days. Now his training could begin. He picked up some dirt from the floor and threw it infront of him. The wind was blowing west.
"I go with the wind!" and with that Mok began to jog down the path out of Sunberth's tent city.
After about ten minutes he found himself out on the extreme west edge of Sunberth. Thats when he began to trail blaze. Cutting off the path, Mok headed northwest towards a ridge in the distance. This part of the land was full of divots and sink holes. The myrian had to constantly run up and down through brush to keep on a straight course. He constantly found himself dodging tistles and sharp plants as he ran. This landscape looked so desolate to Mok. It was gray and boring, but none the less he ran. His pack wasn't too heavy. The only thing that was actually weighing down on him was his new axe. After trouting for a good four miles, he was breathing only slightly hard. The elevation change was nothing too intense.
By now the sun was already climbing the sky. Mok never looked back, but he could feel the cold air being shattered by the morning glory. In the distance ahead, low fog wait for the sun to scare it away. He had been on the run for two whole hours and he still seemed not to be getting any closer to the ridge. As he ran his mind drifted elsewhere. At first he dreamed of what would await him at the top of the ridge. But those mundane thoughts were driven away about thoughts of battle. Mok wanted to be the strongest warrior in all the land. Or at least that was what he was supposed to think right? What did he need to do to accomplish that? He would need to train hard and work hard. The warrior would need to challenge the strongest opponents all across Mizahar to attain this status. Mok pondered about this. He could be the strongest man alive: invinsible under the sun.
Maybe he had another path to follow. Maybe what he was seeking was power. The power of the sword. The power to move men to your will. Mok definately liked that idea. Controlling each and every aspect of Sunberth would be a promising future. The quickest and easiest way to do this was to become strong. Yes, strength is power right? If Mok could kill anyone he wanted to in a dime, he would be the most powerful. Is that what he really wanted though? He didn't know.
There was one thing he did understand though: loyalty. He would always be loyal to his fellow clan mates. Mok was cast out of the Faylndar, now he served no one. He had no lord. He worked for himself. He answered to no one. Not even to the gods. These were facts that Mok understood for sure. He also knew that he was willing to lay his life down for any of his closest friends: Cade, Antar, Eryss. He would fight and die for those men in a heartbeat.
As random thoughts floated in an out of his head, Mok approached the ridge. He was finally at the base of the climb. Stopping for a moment to catch his breath and stretch his legs a little, Mok looked back east. The sun was already high enough in the sky. The myrian must have spent a good four hours running through the treacherous terrain. However, there was no time to lose!
The ridge was too step to climb straight up. The warrior jogged up and down a series of switch backs. This part wasn't too difficult. There was a series of four switchbacks totalling a whole mile. The elevation change wasn't too bad though so it was only a slightly uphill run. Not as bad as the divots he needed to run through. In a quarter of an hour he reached the top of the ridge.
The scenery was something to behold to the eye. At the top of the ridge, Sunberth in all her glory was visable in the distance. A silver line that was the sea could be spotted as well. The horizon was full of large fluffy clouds, but to the west the clouds were thin and high. Looking around Mok saw that the ridge was essentially the end of the valley. Fifteen miles to the northwest were mountains. Far to the west were some foothills. Mok decided to head in that direction. He would let his own feet take him onward.
Mok's goal this week was to get some good honest sober work in. In this buisness it was necissary for one to train diligent and train hard. After several days of drinking it became apparent he needed to shake some of his rust off. Waking up an hour before dawn, Mok laid out everything that he was going to take on the trip. He wanted to be organized and prepared. His wilderness survival exprience in the jungle thaught him that much. First his clothes and armor: boots, cotton pants under wool, a cotton shirt under a wool sweater, and finally his shadowsilk cloak. He also sported a pair of gauntlets and his gladius. His bag had 3 days of trail ratons, fifty feet of rope, flint and tinder, a blanket, and some water skins. He also took with him a woodsman axe he had purchased the night before.
Slinging the pack over his shoulder, Mok stared off to the west. The sun's orange glow began to tint the landscape. It was time for him to get a move on. Using a random stick, he traced on the floor of the camp an arrow pointing west and the number ten. The number meant he would be out for ten days. Now his training could begin. He picked up some dirt from the floor and threw it infront of him. The wind was blowing west.
"I go with the wind!" and with that Mok began to jog down the path out of Sunberth's tent city.
After about ten minutes he found himself out on the extreme west edge of Sunberth. Thats when he began to trail blaze. Cutting off the path, Mok headed northwest towards a ridge in the distance. This part of the land was full of divots and sink holes. The myrian had to constantly run up and down through brush to keep on a straight course. He constantly found himself dodging tistles and sharp plants as he ran. This landscape looked so desolate to Mok. It was gray and boring, but none the less he ran. His pack wasn't too heavy. The only thing that was actually weighing down on him was his new axe. After trouting for a good four miles, he was breathing only slightly hard. The elevation change was nothing too intense.
By now the sun was already climbing the sky. Mok never looked back, but he could feel the cold air being shattered by the morning glory. In the distance ahead, low fog wait for the sun to scare it away. He had been on the run for two whole hours and he still seemed not to be getting any closer to the ridge. As he ran his mind drifted elsewhere. At first he dreamed of what would await him at the top of the ridge. But those mundane thoughts were driven away about thoughts of battle. Mok wanted to be the strongest warrior in all the land. Or at least that was what he was supposed to think right? What did he need to do to accomplish that? He would need to train hard and work hard. The warrior would need to challenge the strongest opponents all across Mizahar to attain this status. Mok pondered about this. He could be the strongest man alive: invinsible under the sun.
Maybe he had another path to follow. Maybe what he was seeking was power. The power of the sword. The power to move men to your will. Mok definately liked that idea. Controlling each and every aspect of Sunberth would be a promising future. The quickest and easiest way to do this was to become strong. Yes, strength is power right? If Mok could kill anyone he wanted to in a dime, he would be the most powerful. Is that what he really wanted though? He didn't know.
There was one thing he did understand though: loyalty. He would always be loyal to his fellow clan mates. Mok was cast out of the Faylndar, now he served no one. He had no lord. He worked for himself. He answered to no one. Not even to the gods. These were facts that Mok understood for sure. He also knew that he was willing to lay his life down for any of his closest friends: Cade, Antar, Eryss. He would fight and die for those men in a heartbeat.
As random thoughts floated in an out of his head, Mok approached the ridge. He was finally at the base of the climb. Stopping for a moment to catch his breath and stretch his legs a little, Mok looked back east. The sun was already high enough in the sky. The myrian must have spent a good four hours running through the treacherous terrain. However, there was no time to lose!
The ridge was too step to climb straight up. The warrior jogged up and down a series of switch backs. This part wasn't too difficult. There was a series of four switchbacks totalling a whole mile. The elevation change wasn't too bad though so it was only a slightly uphill run. Not as bad as the divots he needed to run through. In a quarter of an hour he reached the top of the ridge.
The scenery was something to behold to the eye. At the top of the ridge, Sunberth in all her glory was visable in the distance. A silver line that was the sea could be spotted as well. The horizon was full of large fluffy clouds, but to the west the clouds were thin and high. Looking around Mok saw that the ridge was essentially the end of the valley. Fifteen miles to the northwest were mountains. Far to the west were some foothills. Mok decided to head in that direction. He would let his own feet take him onward.
Red = Myrian
Bold = Common
Bold = Common
