MP Game - Yarnspinners

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 11 ----

I am an image in stone.

There was a storm in the mountains, and we had wandered for several days. I think we were all hoping someone else would suggest we turn around, explain to the village elders back home that we just couldn't find the maurauders, try again next spring? Our orders had been to secure the mountain from a tiny band of masons and a knight-major, or so said the runner who had heard it from another man who had spoken with our scout in these parts, only half a year ago.

"Perhaps they have already frozen to death," I heard one man mutter to another, through chattering lips. But no one breathed a word of returning home.

A nightmare put me here

Thymbre was speaking while gazing on the mountainside with an inscrutable look, and I could barely hear her voice, though the wind had died down. "The rocks the smell of death..." Comprehension dawned on her face, a small flicker of terror rose in her eyes, and set. "You must turn everyone back now." But it was too late. There was a shout from the forward ranks. They had been spotted.

where I am forever, the symbol of eternal remembrance

After that, it is a slow blur. The scout report was wrong. Over a score of horseman ("horsewomen", Thymbre corrected me) bore down on us, and many foot soldiers, and it was clear that we had erred badly. Our new recruits fell, and my hoplites and silver shields fell, and our line broke as we raced madly back toward rough terrain where even their spectrally thin and supernaturally fast horses could not follow us. As we were nearly to safety, Thymbre turned to me. "There are so many stranger beings than these, Pandokos, it will take all your skepticism to keep them all at bay. I think you will soon see them for what they really are. But now I think it is just about time..."

I sensed it, rather than saw it - as if from nowhere it came - and the image of that moment is now etched in blood on my eyelids.

Shine, as long as you live; do not be sad.

I do not know how we carried her body back through the mountains, tired and broken as we were. I do not know where we found the stone to mark her grave, or many other things these past days. I only know that she is gone.

Cause life is surely too short

She knew. She knew, and I thought she was babbling, but she was only trying to tell me, and yet she went anyways, willingly. And of all the things in this world, I will never see her again.

and time demands its toll.


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