Miroslaw's Campsite

[Miroslaw]

      
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-

SPOILER: Click to show

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.

[Miroslaw]

(Anyone could certainly roam into my humble abode. The smoke from the fire would make it an effortless discovery when the curious are nearby... )

[Alexander]

Dappled light falls through the canopy of trees to dance over the bushes and other undergrowth on the forest floor. The quiet of the woods is broken by the sounds of someone moving that is either untrained in outdoor living, or does not care about being noticed.

From your campsite you can see the vague form of a figure cloaked in dark robes moving among the plants slightly hunched as if looking for something. It does not seem to acknowledge the presence of your campsite or the smoke rising from the fire...

[Miroslaw]

Miroslaw was enjoying some freshly cooked stew when he heard the noise. Any noise out here sent shivers down his spine, as he always feared the worst. He slowly turned his head in the direction of the sound and was shocked to see a shady figure so near to his home. He stopped moving, and even breathing at the sight. Thoughts began racing through his mind. As usual, they were nothing good and entirely irrational. Fortunately, his mind was put to rest when he came to the realization that the figure seemed to be moving with an obvious lack of stealth. With that discernment, He began breathing again.


“No use in beating around the bush,” he thought to himself. With that, he stood from the log chair he was seated on and called to the figure, “Can I help you with anything?” His right hand held the stew as the other stupidly waved to the character, trying to catch his attention as if his voice was not adequate for the job.

[Alexander]

"I highly doubt it."

::The stranger calls back in a gruff male voice without even a glance in your direction. However, you are able to tell as he moves and shifts about in his apparent search that he is human with long dark hair that hangs out of his hood and a matching goatee. The shadows of his cloak hide his more distinguishing features.

The man's steps carry him ever closer to your camp. As he nears, his gaze travles from the forest floor up into the branches above. His hood falls back and reveals that one eye is covered by a patch and surrounded by a twisting intricate tattoo and faint scars. The other is squinted against the patchy light coming down from above.::

"Gods, you are a fool."

::The words escape his lips as half a mutter, half a curse as the figure draws a dark cane from beneath his robes and rushes towards you as you stand near the fire.::

[Miroslaw]

Miroslaw is instantly frustrated by the man's presence and rudeness. He states, "Then you should leave." in a stern, husky voice. Immediately before sitting back down on his log chair. He never takes his eyes off of the man, but continues slowly eating his stew, blowing at each spoonful to cool it off. His face was expressionless. However, his frustration could slowly be seen in his face as the intruder drew closer to his encampment.

Miroslaw's weapons resided in his tent. Regarding the charge as a hostile act, he was forced to improvised. He threw the half filled bowl of piping hot stew at the man and stood up in a defensive stance, hunched slightly and body turned to the left. He held his right hand out towards the man, gripping his wooden spoon like a dagger.

[Alexander]

::The man's free hand swung in an arc, carrying the edge of his dark cloak with it as the improvised weapon that was the bowl of stew flew at him. Dark shadows on the cloak spread like ink and the mess splattered across a thin barrier so close to the fabric that most may not have noticed the difference had it not been for the runny mess dripping down to the ground leaving no stain behind. The wooden bowl clattered to the earth with it as the man continued his advance, heedless of the person before him with the brandished spoon.::

"Bah! Twice a fool!"

::The cane shot forward, not to strike at you, but the pot of stew still resting over the flames. The blow tipped the pot and sent its contents sloshing down over the flames and dousing most of the fire below. The man's steely eye shifted between you and the trees above the fire as he comes to a halt to lean against the cane.::

"Should I have wanted you dead, you would already be so. And no doubt little realize it, given the ammount of intelligence you have shown me already.

Weeks of searching almost ruined by a bloody campfire."

::He kicks at one of the stones set to ring the pit in a display of distaste and it rolls over into the dying flames.::

[Miroslaw]

Miroslaw readied himself to parry the many strike with his spoon, but saw the strike was not aimed at him. He let it happen, seeing what the man was intending to do. As his pot of stew poured to the ground, his face contorted into pure rage.

Miroslaw spat angry words at the man, “This is my home and that was my stew! I care little of your search, nor if I ruin it. I will hear your reason for the threats and intrusiveness!” He was bathed in fury, but he remained relatively tame as he waited for the man's explanation. His stance remained rigid and defensive as he trust's no man who would waste a good stew.

[Alexander]

::The man locks his gaze with yours with an evaluating gaze before breaking free to more closely examine the edges of his cloak. He seemed more concerned by possible errant daubs of the stew than any threat he felt from you.::

"For someone who appears to prefer the 'outdoor' life, you have a surprising lack of knowledge about the world you wish to embrace. Or is it that you simply do not care that you set your fire directly below one of the few trees in this area that is home to a rare hanging moss. A moss so delicate that all benifical properties could be lost to corruption from such things as the smoke rising from your flames?"

::He looks up, pointing with the tip of his cane to a mass of growth in the branches above.::

"How long have you been camped here? Perhaps your carelessness has yet to completely ruin the plant."

[Miroslaw]

Miroslaw looks to where you pointed for a brief moment before returning his stare to you. With a shrug and a deep breath, his posture loosens up and his face returns to its emotionless state. “Been here for quite awhile. That moss is surely ruined.” He states with an obvious lack of concern.

He turns his back to you and meanders to his tent. He continues talking as he moves, “And for your information, I know what I need to know to live out here. I simply do not share your interest for that moss.” When he reaches his tent, he crawls in, fading from your view. He poses a couple of questions from the tent, “Is there anything else? Any other stews you wish to ruin, fires you wish to put out, or plants you wish to save?”

He begins equipping his weapons. He straps his claymore to his back, slings his bow over his shoulder, and attaches his quiver to his belt. He grabs his pipe and sticks it between his lips. Finally, he whispers to his wolf, who was cowered in the back of his tent, "Some guard dog you are. Don't move." He put his hand up, palm towards the pet, to reinforce his command. It was only a few moments before he reemerged from the tent and back into your sight.

[Alexander]

::Alexander continued to examine the moss from his place by the fire as if searching for some hint that it might still be useful despite what this stranger had said.

His hopes were not high.

Days of tireless searching ruined by careless placement of a campsite which would now lead to more searching.

Still, the man before him was a bit intriging. He claimed to know the land and how to live off of it, yet lacked the desire to preserve it that most of his ilk tended to bear.

While yes, it would cause him some extra work, it also meant that this stranger was not binding himself with the limitations survivalist typically worked within.

Perhaps he could prove useful...

He looked down as you emerge from the tent clad in your armor and laden with weapons.::

"You say you have camped here for some time. A statement given the weight of truth by the half built structure which I am assuming is your handywork.

I am curious though. You have been here as long as you say, yet I do not recall seeing you about the town itself. What brings you here?"

[Miroslaw]

Miroslaw was suspicious of the man's sudden interest. A half smiled formed on his bearded face from the mention of the cabin. It was almost as though he had forgotten about it. It had not received any work for some time. He had simply been putting it off.

Miroslaw began moving towards the bench by the fire as he responded to the inquiry, "Well, I am in town from time to time, though usually fairly brief visits. I have been searching for someone for a long time, traveling from place to place in my search. I have, more or less, given up” his voice trails and sounds grieved.

A short but obvious silence came before he continues speaking with renewed loudness, "I like here though. There is always work. So... Here I am." As he reached the bench, he grabbed his gloves and began putting then on. He returned the question to the stranger, "and yourself? You are ofthe town, I assume. And the reason you are out in the woods is... Moss?"

Miroslaw looked up to the moss he likely ruined and felt sorry for the stranger. He almost felt inclined to offer his assistance, despite knowing he would be useless, but he refrained from doing so.

[Alexander]

"Research.

The moss being just the most recent. A man should never truely be done learning."

::The man shifts his cane from one hand to the other as he steps back from the dying flames.::

"Yours is a story I have heard before. My studies carry me far and wide in this area. Perhaps we could...work out an arrangement?"

::He looks at you with an eyebrow arched in question.::

[Miroslaw]

Miroslaw slowly takes a seat on the bench causing a sigh of relaxation to come forth.

He failed to see how an unscholarly person, like himself, could be of any use to one who forever pursued knowledge. However, he was not about to pass up the potential of mutual gain.

He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees and entangling his fingers in front of him. ”What'd you have in mind?" he questioned, failing to develop any predictions.

[Alexander]

::The man replies with a smirk. Yes, this stranger may just be of the type he needs. The right outlook combine with a need that he may or may not be able to help with.::

"I propose a partnership.

You are searching for something, and it seems to me that you could use some assistance in that matter. Perhaps my knowledge or travels could uncover something to give you aid.

In exchange, I admit to a certain need. My travels are not always so close to home. Nor do they always involve things so docile as plantlife.

I could use...protection.

My knowledge, for your sword arm and sharp eye."

::The man continued to lean against his cane as he awaited a response.::