Prodayo, The Chronicler (deceased)

[Twofeather 30]

"These past few days, have been a waking nightmare. but what of the ideals? they have left you barren, void of anything worthwhile. but, a greater purpose? all of your work has been for naught." The Chronicler,

 

Prodayo, sat by the road staring down it. what was that in the distance? he could see... a figure. one he hadn't seen since he started out on the roads. she called to him now louder then ever. He looked down at his

 

hands, callused and worn from constant use, his clothes worn and threadbare from the road. "has this really been, for nothing?" he looked up at the road again, the figure was closer. He looked down at his worn

 

boots. they were well taken care, and yet the road had still taken the toll on them. slowly reaching into his jacket he retrieved his book. It was a small sheaf of papers bound with leather. he sat there by the road

 

and stared at his life's work. And he saw.

He walked into Haense, a small town at the time in Axios. he spoke with Otto, and the Marshall, who's name had long since left his mind. They asked who he was, and he told them. They asked if he would join the 

 

guard, and he said he didn't. "I don't kill anymore and besides, I made a promise." what if he had said yes? what would have happened then?

 

 

"it is not the destination, but the journey," Prodayo shook his head. why did the ideals still come to his mind, they had done nothing but ruined him, anything he could have amounted to, lost. Perhaps he was being

 

too hard on himself. he looked back up the road, and saw her standing there. he felt so weak. his wounds were healed though? 

 

 

"Blood hemorrhage son, should a person loose too much blood the last thing that can save them is a cleric, if you can't get one, then say your prayers and leave them behind," the voice of Prodayo's father came

 

unbidden to him. He'd chuckle weakly, seeing that death was finally going to reunite him with his wife. he looked back up at the road, and he saw her face. A weak smile appeared on his face, as he raised a hand

 

towards her. He could see her smile, and reaching her hand out to take his. His vision began to darken at the edges, and he started. He shook his head and brought his hand to his mouth, whistling. He waited for a

 

few minutes, his vision beginning to fade as his head began to slump. 

 

 

"Please.. Prodayo.. just rest, you've worked so hard.." her voice rang in his his ear. he looked up and saw her kneeling next to him. 

 

 

"there, is but one thing I have to do." he whispered. she smiled at him, waiting patiently. he looked up at the sky, now a stark blue color. A few moments more and a flurry of feathers signaled his companions

 

arrival. He reached for the book in his lap, and held it out to the large raven "Take this.. to Hareven, old friend." The raven tilted it's head slightly but complied, grabbing the book by it's spine and flapping off. He

 

let his arm fall to his side, he was just too tired to keep it up. he looked around him one last time, relishing the open road, and the clear sky. Before he closed his eyes, and ran with the wind. 
 

 

Edited December 31, 2017 by Twofeather
updated title to match

[TheIchorDruid 1705]

Quillian's head fell to stare vacantly at the floor, another beloved friend fallen in the short space of a week. Her frame grew rather stiff, the elfess simply stood their motionless. One could question how she managed to stand without tumbling unto the floor as Quillian closely resembled something much like a puppet without strings, unknown how to accordingly react, guilt consuming her clouded mind.

 

"I should have come after you when you ran... for you would not be with the stars.. for that I am truly sorry beloved friend"

 

The mourning elfess simply mumbled before retreating into the tavern.

[Keefy 2047]

Sits for a moment, before fiddling out one of Prodayos books from his satchel, and eyes it.

He'd hum a mournful tune, walking up the length of his groves tree, to the office, sliding the book into a shelf to wait for someone willing to take up the mantle again.

 

He'd sit himself on the cot he keeps in case rest is needed, still humming, as he just laid down.

 

"As you said, merely a matter of time old friend, before someone like you shows. I'll be waiting."

 

He'd remind himself to grow a monument to his old companion on the morning light.