The Madman


We went many places and saw many things. Depending on how long we were in port, the sailors would let me explore. I remember on this one island, far past the town, was a beautiful forest. Now, I hadn't really been in one since I found Rhett. It felt wondrously good to be back among the branches! But then I encountered something most unexpected. A wild sire attacked me! His stamina was incredible. If I had known I was too close to his cave sooner we could have avoided the whole mess.

He chased me even into the sky. Then, I fear, dear reader, I was forced to do something I hoped to never have to do again.

I killed him.

I gave the poor sire as decent a burial as I could. Who knew what it was that drove him to his madness? Perhaps it was divine punishment. Who am I to say it was? And if so, who am I to deny the deceased to be properly put to rest just on a hunch? Maybe fate determined it was his day to die or to end his suffering. Perhaps he had finished his sentence for some foul deed and I was sent to free him? Maybe something horrendous haunted him... Perhaps he was sent to make me do something that will surely haunt me.

Whatever the case, I buried him and covered the mound in flowers and shells. There he may lay to this day. I pity the sire.

The day did not end there. I found a small city in the forest. Railings suspended among the trees that lead to the nests of a Kurach clan. They were the white-winged tropical sort I had seen near some ports, but never would I have imagined they could love the trees as a Sylvan would! Thankfully, they were a friendly clan. In exchange for a stew of mushrooms, roots, and vegetables they had me tell them tales of my wanderings. I did so and gladly. The people could cook! My favorite bartering method.

Ah, but then I learned something that made my guilt sting deep into my stomach. The sire I had killed was a nobleman. A scribe! A strange disease had stricken this community. One that attacked the mind. Spread only when bitten by the diseased who eventually appeared to drown in their own saliva. There was no cure for this malady. Doctor Newbury had heard of it some time ago and had informed me of it. There was no comfort I could give to these people about their loved ones. But they were relieved to know the scribe suffered no more and intended to give him proper respects when they found the cave.

I took my leave of them near sunset with the best of wishes and with us both glad for closure on the sire's sad case.

I beg forgiveness for the sire's death and wish no reward if it was what I was meant to do.

~ Shanku Ravenwing

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