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2013-12-30 02:00:25,
2014-08-30 11:56:28
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Bishops' Journal

Tamarusday, early Moghs

My last journal was taken by a Baaor for her meal, I never knew a Baaor to have a taste for leather and paper, but this one did. I wasn't successful in killing her for her meat and she took my stories as revenge. Let it be known that I have kept a record of my hunts and travels before now but my stories are now in the Baaor's waste. Whoops.

As is customary for a Kuuvian Hunter, I must keep a journal on my person in case I am killed so the Kuuvian's have a record of my hunts, travels, and discoveries. It's a tradition, it's not a law. I do my best to keep to tradition as my mother taught me. These journals are taken from our corpses (or given after retirement) to the faction of Kuuvian Parliament that handles records and keeps. It's kept in a big white building in Hiemskog, which I haven't spent more than a day in (because none of their markets tolerate the illegal capture and selling of God Stag meat...could be because they're the capitol and all). I don't know if these journals are useful for any reason, maybe mapping or to keep track of new species and areas, or maybe to loan out to casual citizens for a light read. Like I said, I haven't spent more than a day in Hiemskog and actually sell most of the meat I capture in smaller villages in upper Kuu, so I don't know for sure what they do. But I do know that upper class Kuuvians are deeply interested in culture and adventure, and while sitting in their large leather chairs, warm in large libraries in large mansions, sitting before a large to have adventures vicariously through hunters and farmers and pirates in a book.

If this is the case, and there is an upper class Kuuvian sitting comfortably with a bottle of whiskey beside them, reading the tale of Bishop the Kuuvian Hunter...then I suppose I ought to begin with an introduction:

My name is Sethe Bishop, I go by Bishop. I have no father. I'm not suggesting that I'm the product of accumulate conception, but that if I had a father he would have raised me. Whomever may have been my father escaped responsibility by leaving my pregnant mother in the middle of the night and never returning. Thus, I have no father. My mother was a hunter like I am now and taught me most of what I know, everything else I know I taught myself. Her name was Amarelette Bishop. I don't know where our family name came from, my mother never met her family and was taken in by a tribe in Northern Kuu, right by the ocean, where I spent my formative years.

This tribe filled the village of Nuukviaan and called themselves The Nuuk. The Nuuk experimented with old fashioned traditions and rituals when worshiping Ofandyr, the stag god, and deeply believed that the newer forms of worship practiced by upper Kuuvians in more developed cities and towns are not sufficient enough for Ofandyr and if they are continued to be practiced in such large numbers they will anger Ofandyr and create more power for the Geovikkans. Unlike most upper class Kuuvians, who do not truly believe that the Geovikkans have the power to release the creatures that Ofandyr had used His great power to trap away and save us from, The Nuuk claimed to have seen these creatures themselves and have witnessed first hand the dark rituals that Geovikkans who reign in neighboring villages have performed. Some have even claimed to have seen these creatures.

I've always been a cautious person, it's how I was granted such talent as a hunter, and heed the tribes warnings. I perform these archaic rituals myself and am wary of Geovikkans and their power.

I haven't visited the tribe that raised me since my mothers passing on my 18th nameday. My mother was not sick, it was not written that she die on this day. She was killed, and by what we have yet to discover. Many of The Nuuk believed that it was a creature released from the depths by a Geovikkan to exact revenge on her. This is silly, because there was no need to exact revenge on my mother, and as far as we know, no Geovikkan has been successful in release of a creature (although they claim their founder has been able to once. Pure slander as Ofandyr would not allow it).

I have traveled all over the country of Kuu and have traveled out of Kuu to extended stays in Antiford, Mercia, Thelo, and the wilds of Paorr; where I've successfully discovered and captured unknown creatures. They tasted the best. I returned to Kuu last Mid-Demiber on my 25th nameday to discover that during my tour I created a reputation of being one of the most in-demand hunters in Kuu. I've developed this title because I am one of three Kuuvian hunters that will hunt and sell meat from the God Stag. The God Stag is the deer breed found only in Kuu and is arguably the most sought after meat in the country. It is protected by law and as such other hunters will not touch it, and if not for law, for morality. You can tell if a hunter has hunted the God Stag because they wear the real antlers of their first kill upon their head. Although I keep other antler adornments to wear into large cities and towns, in upper villages, where the law plays little role and those who keep it eat the meat I hunt, I wear them proudly.

I hope that didn't disturb you, dear Kuuvian, sitting comfortably by the fire. I think rather, I can actually see you licking your lips, wishing the parliament wasn't so harsh so that you too could have another taste of the sweetest meat our great country has to offer.

Right now I'm leaning against a tree, upon a Viak pelt, writing in a journal I purchased on one of my few visits to Falinnbannao. There is a fire before me, my feet lay in front of it as I attempt to dry my very wet boots. The snow is falling gracefully on an already white Orr. I'm covered head-to-toe in many types of pelts that I personally hunted and skinned off of my prey. In a minute I will build a tent and make some hot tea while I cook some Viak meat. Before the afternoon is over and the night comes I will perform a traditional Nuuk ritual that protects me from evil as I sleep. It involves lighting a candle and waving the feathers of The Blessed Sakk above the smoke while reciting a short incantation. I've done this almost every night since I learned the ritual when I was seven, I'm convinced it's how I've been able to stay alive as a nomad with beasts roaming outside my tent.

Apart of me is sad that I'm still cracking the binding on this journal and have many pages to fill, my last journal was filled with adventures that took me from the deserts of Antiford to the now frozen wilds of mid-Paorr.

My fingers are stiff now, Upper Kuuvian, and my nose has been bitten by Father Dodar, so thus concludes my first entry!

Bishop's Journal

Demiday, early Moghs

I've been visited by my closest friend, Chase Harker, today. Normally in Moghs we travel together, but he says he's been very busy with a project for the queen and hasn't been able to stay with me. At first I thought he was a thwumper for taking off to work on some political junk, but I kept it to myself at the risk of sounding like a Geovikkan. And anyway, I consider Chase to be odd with the strangest thought process I've ever witnessed. I'm sure he had his own strange reasons for working for her.

He has mentioned to me today that he will be traveling with me from now until the end of Firch because his work with the queen is now out of his hands until finished. I write this now with him asleep on the other end of my tent. I think he's asleep.

I just nudged him to be sure. He called me a thwumper and rolled over. He was asleep.

Chase and I met when I was about 19 in Viakkon. A village in the northwest, popular for the largest Viak pack that travels near it. He was 23. I was selling God Stag meat in the market, it's not an unusual way to make friends...or enemies...for me. It's always a topic of conversation when I sell it. Chase passed close by me and I expected him to stop and discuss my prize. He was tall and thin with very light, fair hair and piercing gray eyes. I'd guess he was from a more southern town in Kuu, but many Kuuvian's looked different, so it was hard to tell for sure. Chase, however, had set up station next to mine and opened his pack to dig out a prized God Stag meat much bigger than my own. He winked at me then, with a dirty smirk.

“Now don't you go ahead and say some dry line like 'oh, comparing yourself to a little girl, eh?' because I know you're not just any little girl. Not many hunters have the guts or skill to take down a God Stag. I see some Baaor pelt on you, too. Certainly not the most attractive pelt, but definitely warm.” He opened with.

“I'm not a little girl!” Was all I replied.

“Haha, certainly now. Clever, too.” He had turned away then but just as quickly turned back to me, “How about a challenge. Whoever kills the most God Stag by the end of the week wins.”

“Why are you suggesting this to me? I'm the one with the smaller God Stag to offer, shouldn't I be suggesting a challenge?”

“Very well. I gave you the idea!”

“I'm not suggesting we do a stupid challenge! I'm not insecure about my hunt!”

“Are you sure you're not insecure? Seems to me like you're afraid of losing.”

I remember feeling very frustrated then. I wanted nothing but for this man to leave me alone. He was pushing me into feeling defensive about the one thing I was most confident about. I didn't want to get defensive, I wanted to sell this meat and go back to the woods. “Dear Ofandyr, please give me the strength to ignore this man!” I prayed audibly.

“Oh! Come on, you're hurting my feelings! Please play with me?” He poked his lip out, I thought he was making fun of me for sure by making that goofy sad face. I just stared in anger and disbelief, but it must not have shown. “We meet back here in a week and we trade our detailed records of the hunt, no cheating! Complete honesty! Got it?”

I turned away, not answering.

“Great! I can't wait!”

I scowled and slumped over the table I was selling my meat on, waiting in silence for someone to just buy the God Stag meat so I could leave. The entire time (which was actually not that long, it only took about an hour for a God Stag meat enthusiast to find us...and he bought both of our prize) he spent telling me about himself while I kept my head turned away from him.

He told me he was from a southern village just west of Falinnbannao called Fryak that was popular for its breakfast gravy, of all things. It used Falinnbannao's port, so it was often associated with Falinnbannao more than its own village name. He also came from a long line of hunters, it was rare to find a self-made hunter. Most of them learned from their family. He learned from his father, his mother was a baker...likely making some of that famous breakfast gravy (which I've had, it's actually very good). He had two brothers, Finley and George, and a sister, Teaghan Jr. who passed away when she was very young from an illness. He told me he hadn't seen his family since he left home to travel when he turned 18. He's gone back to Fryak to trade and sell, but never to stay, and never to see his family. He thinks he's fortunate that he hasn't crossed them in the streets or market while he was there or in Falinnbannao. He's met the other hunter who hunts God Stag and his name is Felix and at the time he was 35. There was a fourth hunter named Preston, but he was killed in prison over the issue and the immorality. Funny how prisoners get to make morality claims.

It was soon after he was telling me the tale of Preston that the buyer for our prize came. I took no time packing my things and rushing out the door. He didn't follow me, just called out “Until next Reisday!”

I don't know why I did it. But as soon as I'd left him I began hunting God Stag diligently, hoping not to run into him or end up hunting the same deer. I marked down every God Stag I had shot down and I didn't cheat. I don't know why I did it. Normally I'd continue on, cold as it sounds, I'm typically introverted and had more fun traveling on my own, discovering things on my own, and hunting on my own, but maybe the idea of having a friend was too difficult to dismiss? I don't know why I did it, maybe he was charming? I don't think he's charming even now, but maybe younger Bishop thought he was charming? Was it his eyes? I don't know why I did it!

On the next Reisday I traveled back to Viakkon with my old journal, filled with markings and details on the number of God Stag I've successfully hunted in that week. Feeling confident, I stepped into the market place, expecting to see him standing before me with a smug smile. But he wasn't there. I was embarrassed by my disappointment. My shoulders dropped as I turned about the room looking for him. I'd never been stood up before. Was he standing me up? What does that even mean? I wasn't going to wait for him, so I turned on my heal and headed for the door.

“How many did you get?” Asked a voice from behind me, excitedly. I spun around, surprised and frightened. There he was! In the corner of the room. No doors but the one before me, no windows but the one on the far side of the room. How did he do it? How did he get there? I backed up slowly, afraid. “How many? I got four.”

“” I stuttered.

“Dtruva! Seven! Ofandyr be damned!”

“Sh!” I spat and kissed my fingers and placed them on my forehead as an old traditional sign of respect to the God.

His laughter was loud and shocking, “Alright, alright. Religious, I get it.”

“What are you talking about? You're wearing God Stag antlers!”

“I have to, so they know where to buy it from...” he trailed off and bit his finger thoughtfully, “Seven..huh...” He stamped his foot - which made me flinch – and stared back up at me, “Alright! I'm buying you a drink! Off to the tavern!”

“But I don't dr-”

“You do now!” and he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the tavern across the street. It was the first time I discovered there was something weird about him. Since then, him appearing or disappearing out of nowhere became common. And at night he sometimes speaks strange tongues as if he's deep in conversation with someone unseen. He can climb trees faster than anyone I've seen, even a demon. He can jump high and when he's angry the intensity is enough to shut me up or drive me to fear...which since I was 16 has been harder and harder to do. He has taught me many tricks to hunting and he's been an inconsistent companion to me for the past seven years.

Someday I hope to discover his secret, why is he so different? But not today, because I'm hungry and he's sleeping. I think.

Tomorrow I'm back up to northern Kuu for more hunting. I'm wondering if Chase wants to go to Antiford with me in a few weeks for a little vacation from the cold and snow?

Well, Upper Kuuvian, I need to eat! More Viak meat tonight, yum!

Bishop's Journal

Demiday, early Moghs

Things to remember:

  1. I am a strong Kuuvian huntress who don't need no Monarchy.

  2. The Queen's northern cottage is in Baangusta.

  3. Don't hunt near the Queen's northern cottage.

  4. Don't follow that up by calling the guards by the Queen's cottage “ugly fools I'd eat for lunch.”

  5. When in a Baangusta brig, ask politely for a cup of water and be rewarded...with a punch in the jaw.

  6. When in a Baangusta brig, do not make passes at the strong, ugly prisoner beside you.

  7. Always trust Chase to get you out of a hairy situation.

  8. The above includes both breaking you out of the brig and helping you fight off the equally-as-hairy-as-he-is-ugly prisoner you were making sarcastic passes at.

Bishop's Journal

Reisday, mid Moghs

There are two different types of Kuuvians. There are the well-to-do, mid to upper class Kuuvians. They live in the grand cities and open towns in the southern and eastern parts of Kuu. They celebrate culture and have huge chairs in their houses. I know, I've seen them. Almost every upper Kuuvian has some big, silly chair somewhere. Upper Kuuvians have their own struggles, but they get to finish them by wrapping their feet in fur-lined socks and sipping celebratory Early Aderford Berry Wine while lounging back in their big chairs.

Then there are the tribal Kuuvians. They live off of the Gaia by Orr. They worship archaicly. They enjoy eating meat as often as possible and wearing wool and sharing beds with anyone their open to showing affection too. They have fur-lined socks not because they're comfortable and cozy, but because they're a necessity in Dodar. They celebrate their struggles by working out a new struggle.

There are two types of tribes in Kuu. Unless the tribe professes to be Geovikkan, they all worship Ofandyr. However, some worship differently than others and this is that most important distinction which separates them. Not in any bad way which the divide prevents them from coexisting, it's simply the way of tradition. I'm talking about the Blaar tribes to the east. They occupy Baangusta, the eastern-most inhabited place in Kuu, and Skogur. They're really chill, you see. I'm used to the Raou tribes, it's the tribe I was raised in and we're really loud and like to stay up late and sing and dance. We're also the largest tribe in Kuu, occupying Nuukvian, Viakkon, and Villis and a lot of our culture is practiced and played around with in Fotur, Fryak and those big cities all south. The Blaar tribes are really quiet, humble, and nice. They coast through life not with indifference, but with reserve and acceptance. They're just ok with a lot of things. They also believe that Ofandyr has enlisted the help of many lesser gods to control seasons, birth, love, and stuff. I think that's really weird because I'm pretty sure Ofandyr is tough enough to handle all of that. But whatever, to each their own.

Chase and I had been traveling from Baangusta to Skogur, and then from there to the tradeports in VillisVeppa to sell our catches. We were staying at an outpost just outside of Skogur when we met Cacia, who runs the outpost with her family. Also staying at the outpost were two twin men around Chase's age, Foster and Castor. They were traveling from Nuukviaan, my home village, to Hiemskog. They were very friendly and kept the conversation going most of the time. She was feeding us some fish, which is a popular dish in Skogur (It's a major fishing village. Take that Hiemskog, we don't need you!) and telling us about how the harsh dodar had wiped out any dodar crops they were trying to grow and they were quickly running out of food to eat before Aderford would roll around. Chase and I gave her a couple of the Skiic's we hunted because we're such kind fellows, and it was right around here that we heard a scream in the fields beside the outpost.

Chase and I rushed to the field immediately, our curiosity tends to get overwhelming, followed closely by Foster and Castor. It was Cacia's son, Roland, who had been screaming. He was really young, so we thought he might be screaming about seeing an animal and not knowing what to do. Chase and I gathered our bows, prepared to take down the beast before it hurt the boy. However, when we got to him, there was no animal ready to attack, there was a body. It's hard to even classify this thing as a body. It had no eyes, its tongue had been eaten, there was a gaping hole where there used to be a chest. It had no hands or feet and it had been dead for a while, it was bloated and black and blue from the cold. But it was in such an obvious place in the field and we hadn't seen it earlier, so someone moved it there!

Cacia, who had followed us to her son, had turned to vomit.

“It's Father King! We have been cursed!” she cried.

Chase and I shared a confused look and I glanced to Foster or Castor for answers. They seemed just as lost, a hint of frustration crossed Castor's face.

“Father King?” Foster asked. I enjoyed listening to his deep voice, it hummed soothingly.

“Yes.” She weeped, “Father King, the god of seasons. He's punished us for lack of worship before now in the same way. It's always the same, he leaves us the body of a poor soul, completely mutilated like this.” She knelt beside her son and began to pray.

I turned to Foster to see if he would respond to such a strange claim. He turned his back to us and whispered into Castor's ear. Castor was much quieter than Foster and seemed mostly bored the entire night. Only now had I noticed true emotion crossing his face. Previously frustration, currently he seemed to be amused by what Foster was telling him, which I assume was some joke on this poor lady's offense. She was obviously crazy to think there was a god of seasons, but then again this is Blaar tribe area.

“Why do you believe Ofandyr would allow one of his reliable gods to treat his followers like this?” Chase asked, much more sympathetic to their beliefs than I was.

“We have backslid, Ofandyr tells his gods to treat us as fair. We haven't been able to give dodar offerings to Father King because our crops have failed and we haven't prayed enough for his mercy, forgive us!” She fell forward crying, her son leaned onto her back. He was becoming hysterical from her reaction.

“Go inside Cacia, we'll burn the body.” Chase told her.

“Yes, let us take care of it. We'll camp out here to keep watch if that will make you feel comfortable.” Foster suggested.

Cacia struggled to speak between her sobs, “I can't ask you to risk your lives for us. This is our burden.”

“Nonsense,” Chase began, “We'd be happy too. Bishop will stay with you indoors while the three of us camp out here.”

“What?” I responded immediately, offended. “Why do you get to stay out here and be a big badass protector and I have to stay inside?!”

“How could you possibly complain like that, Bishop? Can you be so selfish? I trust you to protect this family if the three of us fail against the Father King who wishes to hurt them.”

“You wouldn't even mention failing if I stayed out here, I'm the best hunter in Kuu! I'd kill any “god” who would be so dumb as to kill their followers.” I motioned quotes with my fingers around the word 'god' and to this, Cacia wailed at my insensitivity.

“Bite your tongue, you're being unreasonable.”

I shut myself up, I knew when not to argue with Chase, and that was when he raised his voice but remained calm. Scary, and I didn't believe him but I begrudgingly slept inside after I helped him and the twins burn the mutilated body.

I tossed and turned all night, I couldn't stay asleep for more than a few minutes. Sometimes I would peer out the window at the tent in the dry farm, still lit by the fire built before it. I would always see a different man by the fire, sometimes two or all three of them sat there. God I was jealous. I wanted to spend time with Chase and the twins and stay up all night looking for beasts or monsters or whatever the heck.

At around 2am I looked out the window again, after staring at the ceiling for a long time, and saw Castor sitting out by the fire. He was smiling widely, I couldn't tell from so far away, but it looked like he had a lot of teeth and all of them sharp. Maybe that's why he never spoke, he could be self-conscious about having such weird teeth. I watched him stare at the fire and before long I noticed he was staring right at me! I jumped back. His eyes were very bright, it was hard to miss the fact that he was smiling at me. Just as I brought my face back to the glass, Foster had stepped out of the tent and castor turned his attention to his brother. He sat down and said a few words to Castor. I couldn't be sure, but I think I saw Castor lick his lips before he retired to the tent! It made my heart race a bit and I felt vaguely worried about Chase. Well until I realized that Chase was probably tougher than these guys and he wouldn't have gotten into any trouble if I was out there anyway. Serves him right if Castor ate him with his sharp teeth.

I laughed at this musing, but eventually felt uneasy about it. I sat back onto my bed and wondered if maybe I should go out and check on my friend. I weighed all possibilities and eventually convinced myself to go see what they were up to before I settled back into bed.

When I got outside, Foster was still sitting by the fire alone. The inside of the tent was dark, I could hear snoring. Chase's snoring specifically. I felt relief then, but couldn't turn back now. Foster had noticed me approaching them and waved me over to the fire.

“Couldn't sleep?” He asked me in his milky, deep voice. Oh I could shutter over it when no one is looking. If you know what I mean.

“No. I just came out to see if you needed any help.” I told him. I sat across from him by the fire.

“I think we'll be fine. Between you and me, whatever happened to that body was probably done by an angry Baorr. I don't believe in the Father King. But it was good of your friend to put that family at ease like this.”

“He's much more tolerant about beliefs than I am. He doesn't even believe in Ofandyr really, but he still participates in worship with me.”

“You have a good friend in Chase.”

We were silent for a bit after that. “Why are you and Castor heading to Hiemskog?” I asked him eventually.

“Oh, actually we need to pick up some supplies for a project we're doing in VillisVeppa.”

“Really? What project?”

“It's with the hospitals. We're helping put research into...well that.” He pointed to my left hand. I assumed he meant the birthmark between my thumb and index finger.

“Oh ya? Why?”

“Well a small population of Kuuvian have the same birthmark and we're researching the history behind it.”

“That's interesting, I've never thought about it but you're right. Chase has the birthmark too.”

“Yea we noticed, we spoke to him about it actually.”

“What did he say?”

“He had nothing to say about it, seems that most Kuuvians with the birthmark don't really experience anything less usual than other Kuuvians because of it.”

“So then why research it if it doesn't do anything special?”

“We just want to know the origin, why do some Kuuvians have it and no other? We notice that no other Orrian has it either, no one in Araz or the rest of Paorr.”

Just then Castor emerged from the tent. “Hm, the birthmark?” He said. It was the first time I heard him talk. His voice was just as deep as his identical twins voice, but he spoke with a softer, quieter voice. I specifically stared at his mouth, hoping to catch a glimpse of his teeth, but he had his head turned down and away. He sat beside me then, grabbing hold of my left hand and examining my birthmark. “Beautiful.” He said. It sent shivers down my spine, my eyes flicked to Foster, whose grin was unreal.

I began to feel uncomfortable and inched away from Castor, pulling my hand from his. “Ya, well...” and then he gripped it tighter, pulling it to his face. He put his nose on my hand and breathed in deep, smelling me. His eyes focused on my hand, and then looking up at me as his long, slimy tongue fell out of his mouth, indeed framed by sharp teeth. He licked my hand and grabbed my ankle, tugging it to him and pulling me onto my back.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled and wrenched my hand from him. He crawled over me, his nose traced my collar bone as I pushed his head away. I looked to Foster for some help, but he was still grinning. “Get the fuck off of me!” I cried and pulled myself from under him, crab walking away. But he was quick and his hands grabbed my thighs and pushed them strongly onto the ground. He crawled over me again, pinning my legs down with his knees. Oh it hurt, I was in agony as his weight pressed into me. “Fuck, get off of me!” He grabbed my left hand again licked it again. I felt his sharp teeth graze over it. Perhaps playful to him, but I was so scared and I regretted not bringing my bow with me. “Chase!” I screamed.

“What the fuck, Bishop, go to sleep.” I heard Chase say from the tent. FUCKING unbelievable!

“Chase help me!” But nothing, not even a stir. Ugh, but my free hand was my dominant hand. I reeled my right fist back and punched the sucker right in his ugly sharp mouth. He bit my first harshly and his teeth broke my skin deeply. I screamed in pain as he let go of my left hand to grab his own mouth. I cradled my right hand and used my elbows to push myself from under him, but he still had my legs pinned down by his own.

“Castor, enough.” I heard Foster say. Finally, the man lifted himself off of me and casually walked to his brothers side. “Maybe you will be able to sleep now?” Foster asked me. He fucking asked me this! I will never forget it!

I scrambled to my feet and backed away.

“Let's keep this between us. My brother and I will be out here with Chase, so there's no need to tell Cacia or anyone. You rest easy now.” He said, as if sending me off. I backed into the house, watching the two of them the entire time. What could I do? He was right. Chase ignored me when I screamed, and they have him in the tent. I couldn't sleep if I tried and I thought about what they were doing to Chase in the tent. What they could do to this family that now only I could protect.

I sat by the window, watching them, being sure I sat far enough back that they couldn't see me in the window. I clutched my bow tightly. I was so scared.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and a soft voice calling my name. I jerked awake, the sun was out and I heard dodar birds chirping outside. As soon as I realized I had fallen asleep, I swatted the hand away from me in panic and backed into the corner of the room to be sure no one could catch me from behind. I aimed my arrow at Cacia.

“Fuck.” I murmured as she jumped and threw her hands up.

“'s noon. You slept into noon and I came to wake you. I thought you may have left with your friend earlier this morning before I woke and didn't realize you were still here until I came to gather the sheets.” She babbled nearly incoherently. I lowered my bow and looked out the window, my friend had gone?

“Chase?” I asked her.

“Yes, he left with the twins I think. The three of them are gone I didn't see them leave.”

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” I screamed as I gathered my things and left the outpost immediately. I approached the campsite, but all that remained was ash and black snow where they made a fire. “Chase...” he was gone.

Cacia had followed me outside. “He left without you?”

I couldn't even answer her, I was balling my fists in anger. I was exhausted, frustrated, confused.

“This is Father King.” she said solemnly.

“Fuck your gods!” I cried and stomped away from her outpost, headed toward the woods to VillisVeppa. I didn't look back, I was angry at myself for reacting that way and blaspheming her gods. Chase would have told me that wasn't fair of me. It wasn't.

I hadn't gone far before I sat on the snowy forest floor. Should I leave? Should I wait? Where did he go? My emotions where overwhelming, I've never felt so abandoned. Mostly I was afraid those creepy twins had hurt him, taken him away to Hiemskog to experiment on him. My mind rushed with possibilities.

I decided to head to Hiemskog to find him.

Bishop's Journal

Demiday, mid Moghs

I've continued onto VillisVeppa without Chase.

Bishop's Journal

Lieday, mid Moghs

He's gone. He isn't coming back.

Bishop's Journal

Tamarusday, mid Moghs


Fuck I'm so alone.