Here the Mountains Whisper

Mar 7 2013

From the journal of Darren Swift

The festivities began in the city bringing contestants and revelers from far and wide. I chose to participate in the archery contest to provide Marshall with legitimate competition. After a narrow margin, Marshall pulled ahead with a skilled shot and took the championship; it is foolhardy to reveal all of one’s tricks in friendly competition.

Entering the melee tournament I was able to better gauge the combat abilities of these foreign heroes as well as my own companions. The self-styled wizard did not choose to enter the melee, though he did have an obsession with waving a hand in Steele’s direction; fey flirtation. A weakness to exploit. As ranged weapons were barred from entry I had to resort to deceptive blade-work. Though foreign to me during my time in the wilds, my old skill returned quickly allowing me to disrupt my targets effortlessly until I lost my edge.

Becoming euphoric with the blood-rush of bringing Steele to his last legs, I forgot about his javelins. He let fly, and with his remaining strength surged forward to deliver the final blow. I shall be wary of his tactics in the future, and my new scar shall remind me to keep my head about me lest I lose it.



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