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05/30/10(Sun)19:28 No.10164943rolled 4, 1, 2 = 7
Home. Finally home. You have seen but a brief fraction of the country, and a small sliver of the war, but you are here again, stronger, much more powerful, and with the authority that made it all worthwhile. Bem, too, has benefited immensely from the trip, gaining enormous amounts of wealth that you spent entirely in the space of a few hours, and setting up his own private empire of dice and cards in New Aarmour. He takes great pleasure in parading his hired muscle around and having them give demonstrations of their considerable skills.
While food and drink are prepared and passed around, you speak of your travels and your battles, touching on your defense of the first fortress and the disintegration of the fire giant, the sieges of the other fortresses, and your encounter with Erivrus's new body. Every minute you are interrupted by a new question, about what it's like in the West, who Mitchell was, what thermite is used for, an a million other things. You manage, with a little time, to craft a small ice model of the living forge for everyone to see, and convert it to stone with your new charm.
Everyone, down to the last farmer, tells you how much you were missed, how the absent thunder of your armored footfalls made the town seem empty and silent. Always, whenever you're out, Dreamwood is less than it should be, incomplete without your smile. It's touching to know how much you mean to these people, and how much you will mean when all of your projects come to a head. The pace of change is frightening to some, especially the older members, but the children adore Vasian's trinkets and model boilers, the poppers made from black powder and scraps. For those growing up with your influence, the world is fast and wonderful, made of progress and infinite possibilities. For the rest, small-town folks born and raised in what you consider abject poverty and oppression, Dreamwood is becoming unrecognizable.
>Continued |
