A letter...
Type of Missve: Public
Date: March 18 1003 Responses: none In a harbor cafe in Portsmouth sits an old merchant. He stares out over the harbor anticipating the approaching storm. He sips his wine and stares at the letter he has started to his niece who lives near Folkestone Hall. "Dearest Nadia" it begins, "Please reconsider your decision to travel north with the rest. It is a perilous undertaking to an untamed wilderness. Although the warriors you travel with are strong, is the reward worth the risks? I understand your business helps furnish the Master Alchemist Luna with many rare herbs, but I ask you to reconsider. You could set up shop here, I have friends who will ship your herbs to cities in the south." The old man watches as acquaintances made ready to depart with the noon caravan to Grimloch. Craftsman, unskilled workers, merchants and mercenaries all making their way north to pursue fame or fortune. He could remember coming to Folkestone as a young man in search of similar dreams and full of conviction. The wind was picking up and ships were streaming back into the safety of the harbor. The knights, lords, ladies and others who led the expedition north expected trouble. What kinds of storms would rage in this new land? Soothsayers foretold of a great undead evil that our people would have to overcome in order to survive in that harsh environment. Faces passed the window of the cafe as the caravan passed out of the city and into the unknown. Some he recognized, most were young. These were his people, ever strong and brave, but was it enough? Mixed feelings of worry and pride welled up inside him as he stared at the orderly lines making their way towards the gate. Children followed the caravans and people on both sides of the street cheered the settlers as they began their journey. The old merchant stared at the letter before him, a letter he knew he would never send and mouthed a simple prayer to his patron god. He thought to himself 'As these settlers leave Folkestone, a part of us goes with them...' The last of the caravan went through the gates and the merchant smiled a sad smile. Outside the saltbox cafe, a cold rain began to fall. |
Created by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 03-10-10 12:15 PM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 03-10-10 12:15 PM