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@Incognus It was said that nothing worth attaining was found in the nadir of a gully. Crossing the mountains between Connlaoth and Serendipity mean facing the malicious bite of wintry cold, one Corvus couldn't say he was accustomed to. It was a risk he was willing to take, however, to find a treasure worth fighting for, worth bleeding for. Nevermind the last part; yet it didn't dilute the determination he'd set within himself.
Nothing was eternal save the soul, and even then the love of Time had been cruel and demanding, giving little of what it promised. Corvus had seen ages gone by, watched his family wither away and turn to dust. Time was a fickle mistress, but Death, death was always wanting, waiting. Of the lives he had lived, this curse fallen upon him, he remembered them as if they were a flicker of light in the darkness, a candle the was ignited for a second before being doused by a droplet on a rainy night.
He hunted further north, to reach the mountains far north of Connlaoth in search of a legend. His companions told him he was a fool, chasing a legend. And entering into a war torn land no less. A ship of fools, and now it was sinking.
The wagon lurched as he sat in the back of it and when it suddenly stopped, he threw the hood of his cloak off his head and crawled over the sacks and baggage to see what was the matter. "Why did we stop?" he demanded. He growled softly and looked out from the edge of the tarp that kept the good dry from the rain.
The wagon driver's hood was soaked with rain and the murky sky was reflected in the puddles that dipped here and there in the muddy road. He grunted and saw there was discoloration in the ground ahead of them. "I'll go no further," he murmured and looked to Corvus.
"I gave you a hefty sum, you'll venture on if you have the mind for it," Corvus replied.
"I will not," he said. "This is as far as I'm willin' t'go." The driver pulled out the sack of gold Corvus had given him to take him up the road and his dirty fingers dug out a few coins, before wrapping tight the intertwined thread that closed the leather pouch. With a grunt he shoved the coin purse into his passenger's hand. "That land is death up there. And if'n y'wanna tread upon it, won't be no worry o' mine." He nodded and watched as Corvus moved to the front seat.
He growled in frustration. It'd be easy to kill the man and take the wagon for himself. There was no one else to look, but for now, he would let this one go. He shifted his already muddy boots over the side and jumped down to the bottom, flipping his hood back over his damn hair. Corvus glared at the driver and the wagon as he gave the horse a yip and directed it to turn around.
Corvus pulled the cloak tighter around him following the road up further, and seeing the discolorations that had given the driver pause. The ground here was muddled with dilutions of crimson red. There was a smell wafting in the air that Corvus was familiar with: rot. The rain only encouraged the odor to waft up further into the air.
He pressed onward and stepped over the broken musket and ignored the hand that lay in the grass, missing fingers. It was a long way to go, and despite him being frustrated, he forced himself to swallow it down. The road had to lead somewhere after all.