Alas, no new comic today, but to still provide new content, attached is a sketch Saune did of Tryffyn. Our plan is to use these filler style images whenever we have a time crunch and can’t provide you with a new comic issue, enjoy!
I had forgotten how irritating Itan’s voice was, and I had also forgotten how easily I could ignore it. Once I had recovered from my injuries, I received an unusual sight once I had returned …
Welcome back to CoT Translations! This week, we are going back and revisiting the Bazaar of the Four Winds, the Festival of the Four Winds as well as some banner hung up during the …
To say that the asura were still skeptic of me would be quite the understatement. Even so, they provided me with some new clothes, for which I was grateful. Sure, the clothes I bought …
Due to a lack of scripts/completed writing, here’s another filler sketch! This time, we’ve got a portrait of Isis!
I had never noticed, until that day on the hillside in Harathi Hinterlands, just how loud birdsong could be. The creatures were trilling all around us, pleased with the sunshine and the gently swaying trees and whatever else it is birds like. I could hear them because everything else was silent, the tension surrounding our party wound as tight as one of the springs in Spark’s ingenious weapons.
It was Spark I was most worried about – or what she was about to do to Blaise, at least. She was outwardly calm, but very dangerous people get a glint in their eye when they’re about to snap, and Spark was nothing if not dangerous.
Blaise could see it too, but couldn’t seem to gather the nerve to even stammer a reply. He was staring at the charr with the expression of a mouse caught between a cat’s claws; I could only hope Spark wasn’t about to turn this into a confrontation between predator and prey.
The morning was deceptively peaceful; it was as if you could feel the dangers from the marsh rush over your body if you stepped anywhere near it. There was an uneasy feeling that gathered around our cart as we made our way towards the wet grounds. Birds chirped in the land behind us, but those chirps turned into the croaks of frogs and toads.
The ground felt as if it was absorbing the wheels of the cart until we hit a rocky path that had previously been created to help transportation along. With the morning still brisk, I had bundled up in a blanket and was leaned against Ragnvaldr, who was chatting away with Tobih about general battle tactics. Ragnvaldr preferred to use his trusty longbow while Tobih chose what weapon to use based on the journey or the battle. As a result, Ragnvaldr was skilled in the use of his weapon, but Tobih was completely average in all of his, though being just that was a skill itself.
Angel was whistling a tune in her driver’s seat. She refused to let anyone else drive and I suspected that her claim to the seat was her attempt to feel like a leader. Not that I minded a single bit. Angel made a good leader. Despite her bursts of rage and her anger issues, she had a good head on her shoulders when it came to planning and keeping the team on track.
Two weeks have passed since I left Silias’ tavern behind. Every time I was done resting for a bit—I was in no hurry to get anywhere—I picked a new direction. I was not heading in any specific direction, as long as it led me deeper into the jungle. I often encountered little streams where I could drink, and there was more than enough food in this jungle, if you knew where to look.
Wandering about without a specific goal, and without worrying about food and shelter, my mind finally got the time to rest and to give all the events that happened a place: my flight from Ascalon, the battle with the grawl, Graymane’s death.
However, it was also boring.
Sitting with my back against the tree, I closed my eyes to listen to the wind playing with the leaves. The continuous rustle was both soothing and… unnerving. The sound was restless, as was I. It was time I got going again.
Portage Hills was much greener than any other place we had encountered in our journey. On a small cliff was a haven – Marshwatch. Traders and vendors were set up until the sun had fallen, where they then packed up and moved inside the tower. As night fell, the number of people out had dwindled down to two guards manning the fortified gate.
We approached the gate, the two guards staring up at our driver. “I’d like to request passage into your haven for the night,” she said and it was the most polite thing I had ever heard from her. With a nod from one of the guards, they signaled for the gate to be opened.
Since this was a haven, our cart wouldn’t have to be checked. Many of these havens were set up across Tyria specifically to guard travelers and merchants and supply carriers. While most places catered to specific races, anything south of Lion’s Arch welcomed everyone. The lands were dangerous.
I am finding it easier to disassociate from some of my more base requirements, like eating – I do not feel hungry, but I still miss the taste of things, and even though I feel tired from time to time, sleep is no longer the complete rest I would have required with my original form. I wonder if this is a bad thing?
With as much stealth as I can possibly muster, so as not to wake my companions, I place a few pieces of wood onto the fire and watch as a shower of sparks soar skyward.