Buzzing Green Trail [private] [reknown]
Mar 21, 2024 23:55:31 GMT -5
Post by liamp on Mar 21, 2024 23:55:31 GMT -5
Squeaking and groaning wood spoke wheels barely moved through thick, caking mud. Dense greenery crowded the tree tops and trail edges along the path out of the black bog, framing a wet, rutted, dark, and slimy trail. Pushing through the humid path was a small antiquarian's caravan. Two sturdy humans, hardy sisters not so used to the jungle climate, headed the group. From behind them, a sun elf yells babbling sentences about her research as she near absent-mindedly keeps her hand on the side of the wagon that carries her precious relics and studies. Trailing behind the wagon are two moon elves, one on high alert, while the other stares at the moving wheels, lost in thought.
Though the wagon caught and slid in the mud, not much brought trial to the travellers' journey; the way was quiet of danger and the road still. The major annoyance were the bugs that buzzed around the heads and constantly swatting hands of the party members, steadily rising their tempers as the heat stole their energy through the trek. The lurches started steadily, small suctions in the trail that held the wheels in place just too long for comfort. As these lulls became more frequent, dread grew in the member's stomachs. They knew they wouldn't make it to their destination without any trouble, not at this rate. And they were proved right within minutes, as the wheels once again slid and sunk into the mud, which this time did not relent its grip.
Through the annoyed curses and grumbling of the other hired help, and of the sun elf researcher herself, Sarvan shook himself out of his thoughts. He was annoyed, yes, but was more apprehensive toward the idea of this journey ending, and finding a new one, rather than towards the idea of whatever effort wrenching the wagon free could take. His leathered shoes dug and slushed through the mud as he worked with the group to try and pry the wagon out from every angle. As the minutes drew on, the party grew more concerned, yet Sarvan drifted into thought again. He contemplated their reactions. He didn't see the rush, really, as they'd all get paid and sent about with their lives. Their motives, this drive and stress were so foreign to him, and after all the effort he'd put in to understanding this way of life again, he found himself still so alienated. He felt more akin to the creature drawing the wagon, pulled into this life by circumstance.
As the others grew more annoyed and hurried, Sarvan focused back in on the task at hand, clawing through mud and gripping the wood until his hands began to feel raw. They seemed to make no progress, merely drenching themselves in muddy water as the wagon moved not an inch. They probably would have gone on this way until they snapped, had they not heard footsteps squelching towards them through the mud. Though it sounded like only one person, they all turned on high alert, not even bothering to bat away the insects flying by their faces. They waited, tense, to see who or what was approaching them.
Though the wagon caught and slid in the mud, not much brought trial to the travellers' journey; the way was quiet of danger and the road still. The major annoyance were the bugs that buzzed around the heads and constantly swatting hands of the party members, steadily rising their tempers as the heat stole their energy through the trek. The lurches started steadily, small suctions in the trail that held the wheels in place just too long for comfort. As these lulls became more frequent, dread grew in the member's stomachs. They knew they wouldn't make it to their destination without any trouble, not at this rate. And they were proved right within minutes, as the wheels once again slid and sunk into the mud, which this time did not relent its grip.
Through the annoyed curses and grumbling of the other hired help, and of the sun elf researcher herself, Sarvan shook himself out of his thoughts. He was annoyed, yes, but was more apprehensive toward the idea of this journey ending, and finding a new one, rather than towards the idea of whatever effort wrenching the wagon free could take. His leathered shoes dug and slushed through the mud as he worked with the group to try and pry the wagon out from every angle. As the minutes drew on, the party grew more concerned, yet Sarvan drifted into thought again. He contemplated their reactions. He didn't see the rush, really, as they'd all get paid and sent about with their lives. Their motives, this drive and stress were so foreign to him, and after all the effort he'd put in to understanding this way of life again, he found himself still so alienated. He felt more akin to the creature drawing the wagon, pulled into this life by circumstance.
As the others grew more annoyed and hurried, Sarvan focused back in on the task at hand, clawing through mud and gripping the wood until his hands began to feel raw. They seemed to make no progress, merely drenching themselves in muddy water as the wagon moved not an inch. They probably would have gone on this way until they snapped, had they not heard footsteps squelching towards them through the mud. Though it sounded like only one person, they all turned on high alert, not even bothering to bat away the insects flying by their faces. They waited, tense, to see who or what was approaching them.