Post by Miroslaw on Jan 3, 2014 22:39:07 GMT -5
It was far off from Wistvale, deep in the woods. It was a serious hike to the south of Wistvale, right where the woods met a river. A cliff overlooked the area on the side that was not the river. There was not path that led to it. Miroslaw left markers in the woods to find his way there, like gashes in trees and broken branches. As time passed, however, he no longer needed the markers.
It was simple. A fire surrounded by stones, lit when Miroslaw was there, out when he was not. The fire was posed as the center of the site. A spit rest over the fire with a few pots hanging from it. A crude bench sat beside the fire along with a stool... or rather a fat log used as a stool. A woodpile sat close by the fire, ready to maintain the flames. Some tools were scattered around the site like spoons and a hatchet.
A small tent also resided in the camp site. It was made from waterproofed hides. It looked fairly sturdy, but crude. Inside the tent was a bedroll along with a pile of hay next to it. A wooden chest sat in the back of the tent with a simple lock on it. A drying rack sat next to the tent and almost always had a hide stretched on it. Next to the tent was a bowl of water that sat on the ground.
A short distance from the camp site was the beginnings of a log cabin. The base was created along with the start of walls, currently only a few logs high. Next to the foundation was a work station with a saw bench and a large pile of logs with a hefty ax embedded into one of them.
-Journal-
Dear Journal,
Today could be the last day I am alive to write. We are heading off to meed the elves in battle. This campaign has been 342 days on this day in April. Should I survive, I am set to renounce my flag and return home to my dearest wife. My hand is trembling, partially from the excitement of the partly, partially due to the fear of the upcoming battle. I have fought in many battles, but now all of my closest friends have all fallen to the enemy. I am the last of my original group. I watched most of the die, some right in my arms. I was unable to do anything but send them off with a prayer after the fighting was finally over. For this one, I am alone with nothing but my blade to aid my survival.
Currently, we are camped just before the pass through the mountains. We will most likely encounter the enemy tomorrow. Hopefully, it will be after we make our way through the nose-bottled pass, else it would go poorly for us. From what scouts are saying, I shouldn’t be worried. A shame my personality likes to create fear. Though, I have not been one to put my faith in the battleless, rookie scouts. I should get rest for tomorrows battle. A good nights sleep could be the difference from life and death. To my dearly beloved, may I see you soon.
Today could be the last day I am alive to write. We are heading off to meed the elves in battle. This campaign has been 342 days on this day in April. Should I survive, I am set to renounce my flag and return home to my dearest wife. My hand is trembling, partially from the excitement of the partly, partially due to the fear of the upcoming battle. I have fought in many battles, but now all of my closest friends have all fallen to the enemy. I am the last of my original group. I watched most of the die, some right in my arms. I was unable to do anything but send them off with a prayer after the fighting was finally over. For this one, I am alone with nothing but my blade to aid my survival.
Currently, we are camped just before the pass through the mountains. We will most likely encounter the enemy tomorrow. Hopefully, it will be after we make our way through the nose-bottled pass, else it would go poorly for us. From what scouts are saying, I shouldn’t be worried. A shame my personality likes to create fear. Though, I have not been one to put my faith in the battleless, rookie scouts. I should get rest for tomorrows battle. A good nights sleep could be the difference from life and death. To my dearly beloved, may I see you soon.