Breviary of Brandylegs: Chapter the First: From the Dust

I will slowly make my way up the three steps and have a look around. What do I see?

You are standing scant inches from where the sunlight streams in. There is an abrupt change before you. On your side there is darkness-except where the sunlight streaming in throws stark shadows and reflected glints-and rock and crystals. On the other side, there is an explosion of growths... grass, short stubby trees, mushrooms, moss covered rocks, and a distance away, an expanse of water, shrouded in a mist that defeats even the brilliant sun which must be riding high in the sky, as you cannot see it.

Holding my new axe at the ready I will make my way completely out of the hole and try to get my bearings. I wish to make my way down to the water all that dust makes even a dwarf thirsty and since I don't have any mead water will have to do.

You step out into the light and onto soft grass. All around you is tumbled rock and soil covered in a tough wiry grass and small, stunted-looking, but very green, trees. The sun is indeed high in the sky, and penetrates you with a clean warmth. Responding to that warmth, something awakens inside your chest, and unfolds. Unbidden, the arm holding the axe swings slightly until the axe is pointing along a specific direction. The direction indicated runs roughly along the shoreline you can see in the near distance. Intuitively, you realize that this... something... was what was examined but left alone earlier.

Making your way down towards the water, you are distracted by a fresh streamlet chattering down through some cracks, and then leaping off some rocks on it's way towards the larger body of water. The water smells clean. You can hear the myrid small sounds of insects and animals going about the business of life. The breeze blows now and again. The wind swings around and begins blowing from the direction of the water. A damp earthy smell is brought with it.

I will stoop down and have a quick drink from the creek before continueing towards the larger body of water talking more to the axe than myself...

"If this be da way ye be wantin ta go then by all means you lead!"

The way is rough going, but you find yourself comforted by the many jumbles of rocks. Eventually you find yourself approaching the shore. From the tiny size of the waves, you figure that this must not be the ocean, nor open out onto it. The water smells strongly of earth, that and plant matter, lots and lots of plant matter. From this close, the water appears more green than blue. The mist above the water is thin here near the shore, but further out it becomes an impeneratable fog that defeats even the bright sun.

The shore is made of large rocks and rough gravel, all of which is covered by moss and various low lying plants. You catch glimpses of small scurryings, and many many insects. Some little whiney insects begin zipping around your ears and nose. Ahead, a number of large corvid are flapping among the rocks harrying various small shelled things of many legs. Some of them pause to warily watch your approach. One caws harshly.

Keeping an eye and ear toward the water I am going to make my way towards where the corvid are digging, shoo them away, and check to see what the one seems so interested in digging out of the sand.

* Searching the ground that the covid is digging in... *

damn I hope it's real obvious otherwise unless it bites me I'm going to miss it

The corvid shoo only reluctantly, and with much cawing and the occasional dart of a razor sharp beak at you. They cluster around you on the rocks nearby, voicing their complaints raucously. All you find are some of the shelled creatures, which you note have a large claw on one hand. The shelled creatures run back and forth in a diagonal pattern fleeing from you. The corvid pounce on the fleeing creatures, deflecting the claw swipes with deft parrying of the long beak, and then dispatching the creatures with a single powerful thrust between the eyestalks. Taking the limp prey by one of it's legs, they slam their capture against the rocks, cracking the shells open, and then feasting on the meat inside.

"Ah hope dem derrty creatures taste good, I apologise for da intrusion birdies."

With that I will continue to make my way in the general direction that the axe has indicated along the shore. I do wish to remain about 10-15 yards from the shore, dwarves don't float and I don't want to prove it.

The rough terrain makes for slow going, if remaining reassuringly in continous contact with the rocks. You are swiftly begrimed by the numerous patches of moss and lightly coated with dust from the many mushrooms that seem to thrive here. You travel for several hours without incident along the shoreline seeing only rocks, water, mist, stunted trees, more of the corvid-singly and once more in a group, and various other small wildlife.

Rounding a small hill of tumbled rock, you see another corvid sitting on a branch of a tree. It looks your way and caws harshly. You stop and think a bit. Come to think of it, you've been seeing a lot of those corvid over the past few hours, and most of them were alone. You begin to wonder if you should be suspicious about this single corvid.

I will stop my forward progress and turn to look at this single corvid not exactly being familiar with air creatures I'm going to simply say, in common.

"Oy! birdie are ye followin meh? If thar be somthin ya be needin ere wantin from me oll do what I kin ta help ya."

More to myself than to the bird after I finish my statement.

"Och, are ye goin daft Cross ole man talkin to da bird like that?"

The corvid cocks it's head several ways, eying you from one side and then the other in the manner of birds everywhere. Suddenly it lets loose a loud !CAW! and flaps off directly towards the nearby water. There is a small space of silence before the fauna starts sounding again.

First thing I would like to do before I continue in the direction I was traveling, I'm goin to make my way towards the edge of the water where the corvid flew and see if I can tell where they are flying to. If not I will keep going in the same direction as before.

You make your way down to the edge of the water, weaving between the rocks and growths. By the time you make it to the water's edge, a mist has arisen on the water, making it hard to see. The mist quickly thickens, so that within the space of a few seconds it has become a fog thick enough to obscure the sun. It moves to either side of you, almost as if to envelope you.

"Bah! Damned fog! Ope ye ave fun flyin oot there birdie but I don't relish a swim today."

I will continue to hold my axe at ready until I can see clearly again and start making my way back in the direction the axe seemed to want me to go. I want to keep a watchful eye towards the water as to not get suprised by anything that may come out of it.