Re: MP Game - Yarnspinners
---- Arcoscephale, Turn 9 ----
The first snows of winter cover the graves of the fallen— men who have traipsed half-way across the world to die alone and be buried without honor. Still we head further into the mountains. Limmy seems, if possible, to be weaker every day. In the battle yesterday, when we were ambushed by nearly three score of bandits, he merely ran around behind the troops, bumping into them occasionally. Only after the bandits had fled did Limmy do anything, chasing after and slaying the fleeing foe with disturbing enthusiasm. Tonight, he sits by himself by the campfire, perhaps regretting the innocent blood he has spilled, or perhaps continuing to obsess about the name of mountain range we are in. The local expression roughly translates to "God's grave", and this bothers a superstitious man such as Limmy.
A scout has returned, bringing wild tales of a powerful kingdom on the other side of these mountains: a giant astride a many-legged horse, fantastical warriors with powerful magic preventing you from seeing them directly, and others who can control the winds. It's clear that this poor individual has been out in the wilds by himself for too long, but our need for information is keen, so as soon as he stopped gibbering over Limmy I sent him back out into the night.
The campfire tonight and scant (I suppose I can call it) food, is courtesy of the locals who greeted us as liberators from the bandits. A handful of young men have volunteered to come with us, and I welcome their aid. It is a long way home now, and we lose men in every battle. Those who survive are slowly accumulating wounds. We need Thymbre's gentle healing hands.
Limmy has stirred himself at Last. I heard him tell the sentry that he is going to search for sites of mystical power. The man is insane, and will probably be killed by a wolf before daybreak, but I haven't the energy to stop him.
I suppose, while he is gone, no-one will notice if I help myself to his stash of butter. It'll make this burnt vermin carcass a little less dry and pungent.
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