February 2nd, 912
We arrived back at Chi-Hanna-Mirrik shortly before daybreak. I promptly retired to the inn and slept until lunch. Participating in the hydra hunt was a unique and valuable experience, but also a particularly exhausting one. I am glad that my skills were able to significantly aid the hunt, and I admit I feel a bit of childish pride in having upstaged Gihani-Gohani.
In any case, my studies here in Chi-Hanna-Mirrik, and in Toskila at large, have come to an end. I plan to travel east to the Marilin Steppe, where I shall follow the Ovcharkan Trail northeast to Gravalt.
When finally I emerged from my room and informed the innkeeper of my plans, they insisted I stay for lunch to enjoy the spoils of my work. Hydra meat has a truly unique appeal; the danger they pose to their cities aside, I can understanding why the Toskilans hunt them.
As I write, I am currently traveling through the swamp via boat, once again pulled by my friend Kakana-Nakana. The Toskilans insisted I accept an escort, and I was more than happy to accept; travel via boat is many times faster than by foot, and Kakana makes for good company. She seems perfectly happy to guide me to the swamp’s edge; I intend on paying her for her services, whether she accepts the coin or not.
—Kirra
February 6th, 912
Today consisted of travel. I enjoyed observing the wilderness and speaking with Kakana, but I have little to record. We are very near the swamp’s edge now. It should be easy enough to reach the steppe by foot from here, but Kakana convinced me to make camp and rest for the night.
She is a good friend; I shall miss her. Perhaps I shall visit Chi-Hanna-Mirrik again on my return trip to see her again.
—Kirra
February 7th, 912
I said my goodbyes to Kakana, and we parted ways near the swamp’s edge. As I expected, she initially refused payment, but I managed to convince her. I made my way onto the steppe less than an hour later.
The land here is vast and empty, miles upon miles of rolling hills and shrublands. I can spot potential danger from afar here; by the same vein, danger can spot me from just as far. Particularly large monsters are known to wander the region at times; I must needs be cautious to avoid their ire. To that end, I shall not rest for much longer.
—Kirra
Feb 7th, 2nd entry
Thankfully, the old map I had on me still proved accurate all these years later. As night fell, I came upon an Ovcharkan village. It is abandoned, but will serve well as a shelter for the night.
The Ovcharkan people are nomads. They build temporary villages all across the steppe, living in each for only a few months before moving, either to another village or to construct a new one. It is a habit they picked up from the God that created them, and one they maintained throughout the Holy Wars in order to avoid conflict. Though the wars have ended, they continue to wander, for the nomadic lifestyle is baked into their culture even if it is no longer necessary.
Ovcharkan villages are very simple in construction, designed to remain standing for long periods of time with minimal maintenance. Their buildings are made of mudbrick and thatch, and their crops are wild vegetables that can flourish on their own. The Ovcharkans do not consider travelers staying at their villages to be an intrusion; their culture allows any who need them to take advantage of their shelters, so long as they leave them intact and do their share of housekeeping during their stay.
I have become accustomed to sleeping beneath the stars during my time in Gravemarch, but the prospect of doing the same here unnerved me. The dense foliage of the swamp provided an enclosed space; I could feel at peace, cloaked in nature. Here, in the open fields of the steppe, I would simply feel exposed, vulnerable. Sleeping with a roof over my head shall be a nice change of pace after several days of travel.
—Kirra
February 8th, 912
I left the Ovcharkan village early in the morning after harvesting some vegetables for the road. A night in a real bed has me feeling quite rejuvenated.
I write as I lay behind the crest of a hill overlooking a great plain. A large herd of yppotryll are passing through the grassland just ahead of me. They are large, tusked beasts with the bodies of camels and long, snake-like tails. Though they subsist primarily off of grass and vegetables, they are omnivorous, and are known to be incredibly aggressive and territorial. I have decided to wait for them to pass rather than risk becoming their next meal.
As I pass the time writing, I realize I have done a very poor job of communicating my plans for this journey. Currently I am following the Ovcharkan Trail northeast, where I shall eventually arrive at Gravalt in the Ciric Hills. From there, I shall visit the neighboring nation of Emberfall before joining a caravan through the Akkhil Desert and to Samurallia. My travels then shall take me to the nation of Patria in Paradise Falls. From there, I plan to snake eastward across the continent, visiting Vestilla, Kalaka, Yvvyvvv, Krysola, Zhubeu, Nehvra, and Mathis Tithia.
I could go into detail into the rest of my plans, but it is highly likely they shall change significantly before coming to fruition; the world is changing rapidly, and I cannot assume things will simply go to plan. In essence, I intend to circle around the entirety of Kiyona before returning to Toskila, from which I shall embark to another continent.
I have companions in Samurallia. I hope they are doing well. It has served as one of several Human homelands for many decades, but as a nation, it is very young.
There is a mountain ahead that I do not recognize. I dearly hope it is not what I believe it to be.
Finally, the yppotryll have passed, for the most part. I shall give them a wide berth as I pass behind them; I tire greatly of waiting.
—Kirra
Feb 8th, 2nd entry
As it would turn out, the “mountain” was exactly what I thought it to be. Once again I lay behind the crest of a hill, wasting the hours away as a beast passes me by.
What stands before me is a behemoth. To be clear, that is not a description, but the creature’s actual name. A titanically large creature of chitin and muscle, one that feasts on entire herds of prey and grazes entire hills at a time. Legends say the steppe was once a grand forest, but that the trees were wiped out as behemoths grazed on them like grass.
Though they are terrifyingly large and powerful, behemoths severely lack mental faculty. The sheer size of their bodies is too much for even their obscene diets to account for; rather than sacrifice their size, they instead live in an almost perpetual state of hibernation. Their bodies move on autopilot, their brains effectively “sleeping” most of the time to save the energy that thoughts would cost them. For this reason, behemoths aren’t very aggressive, at least not to individual creatures. Their brains only activate when they see a large group worth the effort of preying upon, so it incredibly unlikely that one would ever even become consciously aware of a single person standing right in front of it.
Even so, walking beneath the beast is a risk I dare not take. While its lack of thought may prevent it from seeking to harm me, it makes it all the more likely to crush me by accident. As I do not intend for my journey to end in such an embarrassing way, I shall
I apologize for ending my thoughts abruptly, but a winged creature has emerged from atop the behemoth’s back. I believe it has spotted me, and it is followed by th🝠‿
Comments (0)
See all