ROLEPLAY

Quarta, Germinally 10  Tria, Germinally 21, 1st AC 2618

So far, the road is relatively entertaining. This is not Azazor's opinion, and I am working to push his limits. I'm convinced that it's better to do it now, rather than wait until we're really faced with the unknown. I feel that the Fyros is panicking slightly, within. Poor guy. I should spare him, but for the moment I can afford to keep him still in this state. When the time comes, I will know what to say for him to regain his composure.

And then we lost Azazor's mektoub. "künos, I slipped, künos." I said, in a small voice, and that didn't make us laugh. "ramèch", I added, with a grimace.
These beasties are not cut out for such a path. Climbing and jumping from root to root, I must say, that's not their thing. It's not ours either, I won't lie. However, Azazor pointed out the absence of gibbais in the area, and that is a good thing: they would be the only creatures able to chase and get us in these areas, with their long limbs. Fortunately, jugulas do not chase us there, and when we have to climb, neither do the jungle predators. An observation in passing, although not very useful: pursued by the jaws of a najab, the mektoub proves to be very agile when it has to climb roots to avoid being gobbled up. On the other hand, the same is much less at ease when it comes to descending. Maybe it's due to the position of its eyes, or maybe to the straps and bags we tie on it that prevent it from moving freely. I'll look into it. Maybe it was just too loaded.

In short, we lost a mektoub, bad luck. This stupid animal put a paw where it should not, it made a pretty good fall, and impaled its trunk below. It was not a pretty sight, and it calmed us down... Of course I did my best not to show my concern to Azazor, we must not lose our heads. We drank a good shooki in memory of the animal, knowing that we would leave the little barrel there. Then we took the tools, the dried meat, the two or three potions that we could save, since most of them were in pieces, so the most precious part of the animal's pack, and we abandoned some pieces of armor, some bulky provisions... Then, we put that as we could on my mektoub, and not to overload it too much, made some room in its pack too. I tried as best I could not to discard some of my more delicate goods. Azazor was ogling at this or that packet, asking me if it was really necessary to keep all this stuff. Well, I shouldn't have told him "You'd better look for the next beacon!": he asked even more questions. Then he almost opened the box containing the living dagger. So I explained about the books, and vaguely that everything else was important. However, I'm starting to regret having brought along those goo bombs from the Black Circle. It's not trivial, and above all, it wouldn't do for my mektoub to make the same misstep, that would make quite a cloud. I wonder what I'll use them for, and if it wouldn't be better to discretely abandon them in a corner of the jungle... For the next climb, I will have to keep these parts of the animal's pack in my hand, it will be safer. And then maybe I should talk to Azazor about them.

Then my poor mektoub looked at me from afar, cutting up its fellow beast to detach a large piece of thigh, with a gleam in eyes oscillating between infinite sadness and total indifference, without reacting... That changes me from the already exhausted and slightly irritated gaze of Azazor... The groom hadn't lied, the beast is well trained, in good shape, it won't fail us. I mean, the mektoub we have left, not the Fyros. For the latter, I added a touch of essence of ocyx in the mektoub roast. That bucked him up. It has been a good evening, we would have thought we were at the Yubo's Paw, Lydix's grunts replaced by those of distant predators.

Besides, I had to dig for wood to light a fire in this damn country. Everything is too wet, there is not enough light. Azazor laughed at the poor quality of my harvest. But it must be said that on the one hand, jungle and forest grounds are not of my expertises, and on the other hand, kif kif, from a Fyros who wouldn't hold a pickaxe by the right end... This wood seems quite strange to me, a bit different from what we could find at home. Wet, soft, and a strange smell. But since I've never really digged in these parts of the New Lands either, other than in Nexus, which is obviously a special case, I'm not so sure of myself. Maybe the motega in forest is just poor quality, like most things one can find over there. It is a bit late to ask Nilstilar which wood he usually uses to boil his water in the forest, but I will manage to collect some samples on the way back, if we still have room.

The next day, we took the time to find our bearings on the map. Azazor tells me that we are not going around in circles, but I am beginning to doubt it slightly, without showing it to him. But I trust his sense of observation and his knowledge of the stars, which is much better than mine. It's been quite a few days that we're moving here, and Azazor thinks that we'll need another month of walk to reach Fort Beacon. If he is telling the truth, we should soon arrive in this forest area overlooking the Sea of Wood. Maybe he's trying to persuade himself, I do my best to believe him.
We will see. We must advance without thinking too much, and at least, that, we know how to do.
Fort Beacon... From there, I may find someone to carry a letter or two to Fairhaven and Thesos.

Come on, we have to sleep now. We have found a slightly elevated, sheltered spot, we must take advantage of it. The days look all the same in this labyrinth, we must make sure to dream of something else to not leave the slightest chance to discouragement.

Spoiler: Lexicon

künos: chief
ramèch: shit
kif: laugh