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Author Topic: Tales of a Wargriding Exile  (Read 1205 times)
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Garret Arroway
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« on: 05 September 2008, 12:59:20 »

***Note: Parts where three dots follow indicate a moment when Garawn stopped writing to rethink what he was saying or question himself. He was somewhat notorious for the random dots of ink to symbolize a pause when working as an aid for the Commander of the Army and drove the other aids insane in the words of that Commander. In the later years the Commander believed he did it on purpose after finding out that it bothered the others.

This was copied directly from the actual Journal of Garawn 'Gar' Drett, so areas where he crossed out a word or sentence or spelled/wrote something wrong and crossed it out to replace it were kept in an attempt to have an exact replica. Also, certain places, mostly relating to the secrets of riding and training these creatures were ruined by the exiled writer of this journal before it could be confiscated.

*     *     *     *     *

5th day of Burning Heavens, Year 1239 b.S.
     I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposes to be doin' here. It seems silly … nay, childish to be writin' in a journal, jottin' my thoughts, ideas, plans down for all to see, but I must. At least that’s what they told us today. It doesn't seem like the best idea for the Captain of the first wargridin' unit to start off by refusin' to do what I'm asked on the first day.

     From what they said, I guess these things have become a part of life for all wargriders. As I sit here and look at the krisp crisp pages of parchment stuffed between a piece of old leather, I wonder what in the world I've gotten myself into. Then I toss it down and it opens on its own, revealin' the empty pages at the center, where the thick waxed thread was weeved weaved in an' out.

     I know this is a bit deep for a soldier, but … I don't know … maybe I'm supposed to do somethin' more than mop up the mess hall and or sit in the barracks for the rest of my life. I must be crazy to take on this pocision position, to volunteer to be the captain of a 'test unit', to put my neck on the line at nineteen. It just called to me for some odd reason and an image of glory, riches, and a name that would go down in history flashed across my mind in that moment. Next thing I know I'm sittin' here, writin' in this little book after spendin' the day, standin' before the court while people xamned examined me like a horse, checkin' to see if they really want to put their money into the beast.

     I'm not really sure what I'm supposes to be writin' in this thin', but I should probably start at the beginnin'. I can't be expeted expected to remember what's happened to me every day from the moment I was taken from my home until now, as I sit here writin', but there are cetrin certain parts of the last nine years or so that I remember as clear as day ... as if they had happened yesterday. Maybe … I just need an excuse … reason to put these words on paper and let others … yall know who I am or maybe I'm just lookin' for somethin' to occuie occupy me for the next day or so before I head out. I don't know exactly, but it seems as good a place to start as any.

***Next bit jumps back a few years.
« Last Edit: 04 October 2008, 05:03:41 by Garret Arroway » Logged

Before you kill him, think of what you take from him.
Remember what it is to be alive.

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Garret Arroway
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« Reply #1 on: 05 September 2008, 13:01:16 »

Alright, just didn't want to get too far into this if it wouldn't work, so I thought I'd post the beginning part that I got through tonight and see what yall thought about the idea. Don't really have an intro or a summary yet, but hopefully soon.

Before you kill him, think of what you take from him.
Remember what it is to be alive.

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