[Entry 19]

Entry 19

 

I am finally no more than a day aware from the port of Screaming Bay after nineteen long weeks of travel by foot. The journey has been incredibly arduous and boring, hence my lax record-keeping minimized to once a week. However, now that I am so near my destination I will attempt to make a greater effort in more constant note-taking. Considering the reputation of this place, I don't think it will be hard.

My plans to circumvent the majority of the fighting by traveling the far way around Aquaforte proved correct, as I was rightly sure I would. Despite the speculation that Joles Troken and his Desert Rose Clan have free reign over the desert and maraud at will, I never had the pleasure of running into them. Likely the sight of a lone figure clad in ebon Dahlian uniform would have sent them running. I like to imagine that they belived me a Seeker, scouting out the area for another League battalion.

Currently, I am camped at a small oasis...if a tree and mud hole can honestly be counted as one...within sight of the city. It is only mid-afternoon, and yet I can spot many lights from the Bay. Curious.

What's not curious are the slender columns of smoke rising from the urban sprawl. The Bay's industries, what little it has left, I've heard stubbornly refuse to die. Much like the rest of the town. Or its populace, for that matter. However I'm more intrigued at the prospect, as morbid as it might seem, that the smoke is evidence of the real reason why I've come so far to this wretched frontier town.

The wind is picking up, and I call some of it over to me. It carries many scents, most of them foul. It reeks of waste, industrial, coastal, and human. There's also something else to it. It irritates my nose and pokes at my mind.

In another hour I'll pack up and resume the final leg of my trek. One thing I have not noticed among the taller structures from the Bay is one adorned with the League crest. That is both promising and foreboding. It's the latter because the resident overseer is, by protocol, supposed to maintain that sigil to signify ownership of the territory. Without it, any Arcan or void mage could simply walk into town and just presume they can rest there, or worse yet, establish a base camp.

And yet, I admit not seeing the sigil excites me. If the overseer is gone, then that means the situation in Screaming Bay is worse than I thought.

Author's Note

In the spirit of the journalistic style, I will leave most initial grammatical, syntactic, and other "first-draft" errors intact. Revisions will only occur if major changes are deemed necessary.

Reviews

[C.A.Jordon]

I like the style and tone of this charicter. I also like that it is first person point of view.This enables me to see through the charicters eyes.

[MR_BERG]

I like the sense of suspense, but the arrogance of the narrator grates my nerves.