Dear Diary: Campfire Tales
Deployed. Or I would be, if someone had deployed me. I think I deployed myself. Currently of course I am wondering what the blazes I was thinking. "Oh I know," I think I thought, "Just a nice jaunt to Hell and back to keep my finger in, now that I've resigned."
My traveling companions:
Tristan seems a good enough sort; a bold and fair prince, an able leader. Of course he went and got himself filled full of shot the first time we saw the enemy and had to be sent home to convalesce.
Kincaid is as he ever is. But of course he is back in Amber right now, too. Dry, of course. Sipping brandy no doubt. Palace crisis be damned. There's not even a hope for a campfire here tonight.
Dylan seems a likely fellow; bright, though he can't sit a horse worth a damn. Of course he is currently back in Amber, too. See above.
Then there is Sir Ethan, our last remaining royal for the night. Kincaid and Tristan put me third in command after the two of them which puts me in charge over him. I expect to start getting daggers stared in the back of my head any minute. But this isn't the damned army -- you can't send the green ones out to run laps around camp and put them on short rations until they knuckle under. Of course, I don't have any idea if he's actually all that green.
Thane North. First of all, there are the all-black eyes. The man has a certain earthy practicality that one must appreciate. But the all-black eyes. And of course there's his ability to sniff out the road like a dowser's wand (his words). The man often storms about like an addict in the throws of relapse. And he's a natural berserker. Not really known for their legendary self-control, are they? I keep waiting to wake up with him thrashing about the camp attempting to kill us all.
The Heart Thane, of course, went home days ago. Where it is Not Wet.
Rae is as she ever is as well, bless her. One must remember that among her people it is likely neither vulgar nor uncouth to sit about in other people's laps or even to put one's head on their legs. One is very grateful she has not tried to drag one into this behavior oneself.
And then of course, Asa. Let me tell you, it is no fun camping in Miserable Weather with a nature goddess. There one is, soaked to the bone, where even the damp is damp, no hope of a camp fire, and there she is, blithe as you please, because it is only rain and wind. Only. It's all we've seen all day and all that's ahead of us. I keep expecting any minute now she'll decide to change back into a bear and give her fur a good shake, and that'll be it, even the inside of my rain shelter will be covered in Wet.
My traveling companions:
Tristan seems a good enough sort; a bold and fair prince, an able leader. Of course he went and got himself filled full of shot the first time we saw the enemy and had to be sent home to convalesce.
Kincaid is as he ever is. But of course he is back in Amber right now, too. Dry, of course. Sipping brandy no doubt. Palace crisis be damned. There's not even a hope for a campfire here tonight.
Dylan seems a likely fellow; bright, though he can't sit a horse worth a damn. Of course he is currently back in Amber, too. See above.
Then there is Sir Ethan, our last remaining royal for the night. Kincaid and Tristan put me third in command after the two of them which puts me in charge over him. I expect to start getting daggers stared in the back of my head any minute. But this isn't the damned army -- you can't send the green ones out to run laps around camp and put them on short rations until they knuckle under. Of course, I don't have any idea if he's actually all that green.
Thane North. First of all, there are the all-black eyes. The man has a certain earthy practicality that one must appreciate. But the all-black eyes. And of course there's his ability to sniff out the road like a dowser's wand (his words). The man often storms about like an addict in the throws of relapse. And he's a natural berserker. Not really known for their legendary self-control, are they? I keep waiting to wake up with him thrashing about the camp attempting to kill us all.
The Heart Thane, of course, went home days ago. Where it is Not Wet.
Rae is as she ever is as well, bless her. One must remember that among her people it is likely neither vulgar nor uncouth to sit about in other people's laps or even to put one's head on their legs. One is very grateful she has not tried to drag one into this behavior oneself.
And then of course, Asa. Let me tell you, it is no fun camping in Miserable Weather with a nature goddess. There one is, soaked to the bone, where even the damp is damp, no hope of a camp fire, and there she is, blithe as you please, because it is only rain and wind. Only. It's all we've seen all day and all that's ahead of us. I keep expecting any minute now she'll decide to change back into a bear and give her fur a good shake, and that'll be it, even the inside of my rain shelter will be covered in Wet.