Post by sachertorteforall on Jul 21, 2011 9:36:15 GMT -5
Roderich hated field missions. On a whole, he was content to stay in Granor and plot a war within the comforts of his own city. But when his superiors told him to leave his cushy life and venture out into the wilds of Atheros, he had no choice but to suck it up and obey. That was the way the Military worked: someone tells you what to do and you follow through. Disobedience and failure were not an option, ever. He had seen many a grunt released from Military service for failing to do a satisfactory job, and Roderich had no dreams of going that same path.
And of course, it couldn't be a journey to some small suburb of Granor or a city a day's train ride ride away on Sutherick. All the way to Mastariph, nearly two days aboard an airship he had traveled, and now he found himself picking his way through the outskirts of Adralma forest and dreadfully craving a warm cup of coffee. He could count the number of times he had been on this continent on one hand, and he would rather keep it that way. Here, as a member of the Military, he was seen as a hostile force and a target, so he had to cast off his uniform and don civilian clothes, which felt rough and stiff on his skin as opposed to the familiar creases of his Military coat. No one knew or respected him here--he was a nobody, just one more face in a crowd.
Or a face walking through the forest, which was quickly becoming darker as he made his way deeper within. The foliage grew more and more dense, letting less light filter down onto the dirt path he was following. Snapped branches and decomposing leaves littered the trail, and occasionally a fallen tree would obstruct his way. He began to speculate what kind of man would dwell within this horrible place, with birds and insects chirping and squawking all around and bugs flitting all around, just waiting for the opportunity to bite him. Certainly no civilized person, though from his experience, those who allied themselves with the Ruthians were usually not the classiest.
His mind drifted. He wondered whether this was really worth it, this mission to retrieve what the Military believed was a chart showing the planned movements of the Ruthians. As a strategist, he knew how invaluable information like that was at the present, but as a practical man, he questioned the logic behind this. How did the Military know that such a map existed, and how were they sure that the man currently in possession of it would be willing to part with it, even for the grand sum Roderich carried with him, courtesy of the Commander himself?
Though these doubts plagued him, he plodded on, keeping an eye out for the landmarks specified by a man all too easily bribed that Roderich had met earlier in a tavern. There had been a fork in the road, and he had taken the left, as per instruction. This trail seemed less used, with more plants trying to sprout up and reclaim their part of the forest floor. With the trees towering all around him and the disconcerting calls of the wildlife echoing eerily all around, it was easy to see how the lesser-minded thought the forest was haunted by all means of fairies and other fantastical creatures. He thought nothing of it, of course. They were all tales meant to scare children and keep them from wandering into the woods.
He wandered along, cursing the headache he was beginning to develop that told him it was time for another cup of coffee. Instead, he focused on how nice it would be to return to his home, Ruthian secrets in hand, and take a nice, long, hot bath. So entranced was he by this daydream that he nearly missed the second landmark, an enormous oak tree split in half and charred black by a lightning strike. That meant he was close to his destination, and it lifted his spirits by a fraction. The sooner he could get there, the sooner he could get out of this godforsaken forest and back to the comfort of his own home in Granor.
And of course, it couldn't be a journey to some small suburb of Granor or a city a day's train ride ride away on Sutherick. All the way to Mastariph, nearly two days aboard an airship he had traveled, and now he found himself picking his way through the outskirts of Adralma forest and dreadfully craving a warm cup of coffee. He could count the number of times he had been on this continent on one hand, and he would rather keep it that way. Here, as a member of the Military, he was seen as a hostile force and a target, so he had to cast off his uniform and don civilian clothes, which felt rough and stiff on his skin as opposed to the familiar creases of his Military coat. No one knew or respected him here--he was a nobody, just one more face in a crowd.
Or a face walking through the forest, which was quickly becoming darker as he made his way deeper within. The foliage grew more and more dense, letting less light filter down onto the dirt path he was following. Snapped branches and decomposing leaves littered the trail, and occasionally a fallen tree would obstruct his way. He began to speculate what kind of man would dwell within this horrible place, with birds and insects chirping and squawking all around and bugs flitting all around, just waiting for the opportunity to bite him. Certainly no civilized person, though from his experience, those who allied themselves with the Ruthians were usually not the classiest.
His mind drifted. He wondered whether this was really worth it, this mission to retrieve what the Military believed was a chart showing the planned movements of the Ruthians. As a strategist, he knew how invaluable information like that was at the present, but as a practical man, he questioned the logic behind this. How did the Military know that such a map existed, and how were they sure that the man currently in possession of it would be willing to part with it, even for the grand sum Roderich carried with him, courtesy of the Commander himself?
Though these doubts plagued him, he plodded on, keeping an eye out for the landmarks specified by a man all too easily bribed that Roderich had met earlier in a tavern. There had been a fork in the road, and he had taken the left, as per instruction. This trail seemed less used, with more plants trying to sprout up and reclaim their part of the forest floor. With the trees towering all around him and the disconcerting calls of the wildlife echoing eerily all around, it was easy to see how the lesser-minded thought the forest was haunted by all means of fairies and other fantastical creatures. He thought nothing of it, of course. They were all tales meant to scare children and keep them from wandering into the woods.
He wandered along, cursing the headache he was beginning to develop that told him it was time for another cup of coffee. Instead, he focused on how nice it would be to return to his home, Ruthian secrets in hand, and take a nice, long, hot bath. So entranced was he by this daydream that he nearly missed the second landmark, an enormous oak tree split in half and charred black by a lightning strike. That meant he was close to his destination, and it lifted his spirits by a fraction. The sooner he could get there, the sooner he could get out of this godforsaken forest and back to the comfort of his own home in Granor.