Journal Eight
There really wasn't that much time for more specific introductions.
We immediately set to constructing some kind of raft from the debris onshore, while patrols of the Montaigne army worried my new associates to some end, I just didn't care to be caught by either side. Thinking back on it, I probably should have tried to elude the Montaigne, and work my way back home through that country. But Castille had a certain lure to it, mostly personal. And the events that followed, while some seemed comic, they all seemed to happen incredibly quickly. First we were found by the very patrols that the Vodacce swordswoman and her troop sought to avoid. And they attacked, laying down rifle fire. The Vodacce, Reynaldo, and the Avalon, Patrik, responded in kind. The rest of us were trying to make way for the river. Reynaldo still hasn't rightfully explained why what happened next had to happen in the first place. You see, the barrel of gunpowder that he was lugging around wasn't tight, in fact, it leaked, leaked in the eccentric circles and the occasional pause that Reynaldo did while he was walking and talking about. Leaking, of course, back to the barrel. The Eisen, Volker, happened to be standing near to the barrel, when the expected shots found its trail. I watched, helplessly pinned down, as the lit powder snaked around and around and finally back to the barrel. Reinhoff did realize what was happening, only a moment too soon. The explosion sent him straight into the river. The other Avalon, went after him, and the woman, Sabine was also in the river. The explosion gained the attention of the other shore, and the cannon volleys that were disturbingly close before, rained all around us that were still on the shore, although few fell short into the river. With more hesitation than the others, I tried to wade into the river. I was aided, in part, by some of the debris that we had gathered. The Montaigne began to lose interest in us and began to scatter as the cannon fire began to take its toll. Some of the others were doing as I, grabbing on to the debris as the strong river current caught us. Something must be said for the fervor of the Castillian gunners, as they continued to fire long after the Montaigne had fled to safety. And hapless Volker, again, was too close for comfort. And so was I. I lost my grip on the plank I held on to, and began to display my true lack of swimming acumen. I began to drown. Luckily for both myself and Volker the others could swim better than I, conscious, and Volker, unconscious. Reynaldo saved Volker, and the red haired Avalon pulled me from the treacherous waters. Soon the current took us past the Castillian fortress, and we were on its shores without further mishap.Return to Uncommon Valor