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> SELECTED: "... Mikail. My clothes, and those sandals." You go for a quiet walk in the early hours of the morning, alone, watching the Sun rise on this Stratiokas. Still troubled and unable find rest, you find a peaceful spot to pray. [Divine]
As you leave your guest lodgings with the Daughters of the Dragon, and make your way to nowhere in particular, the odd night patrol of Stratiokas passes you by. The first rays of dawn’s light have barely begun creep over the starry night sky. Despite the early hour none of the Cathagi warrior caste challenge you and few even acknowledge your presence, chatting with their fellows as they patrol the shores of their private island. When you first came across soldiers of their ilk on the King’s Highway, you had seen them bear the assault of the braying beastmen with a stoic silence, with barely a grunt or gasp even in their dying breaths. It is odd, to see these typically silent automatons pass the time on their requisite duties in casual conversation with their comrades.
You pay them little heed yourself, your mind still much troubled by your disturbed sleep. The more you struggle to recall the nature of your waking nightmare, the more the details seem to slip from your mind. You remember the dream was something… cold, deathly quiet and lifelessness. They are dark memories, and it disturbs you to be unable to recall the specifics of what roused you from your sleep so unwelcomely.
The shores of Stratiokas Isle could not feel further from the drifting memories of that dream. You can feel the late-year humidity of the southern temperate winds on your face, the sound of the sea’s gentle washing tide and the promise of warmth and life brought by the rising sun on the distant horizon. The view and pleasant solitude helps steady your hand and calm your breath, but you are still not entirely at peace.
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