Monandæg Snippets

—–The thin garb did nothing to stave off the early morning air that sank a chill into his bones. ‘Where the hell am I?’ Wylen wondered. ‘The last thing I remember… Was… What?’ Wylen remembered everything about the basic things around him besides where he was, how he was there, or what he was doing in a place like this. ‘I am from Jumirin, but… what else?’ He was simply from Jumirin, nothing else stood out. ‘Ah, well it will come back to me, but how did I get so damn dirty and broken, how…’ he thought once again examining his hands. Nothing was bringing anything to the forefront of his thoughts, so he moved on to basic needs. ‘Fire… I’ll make a fire then. I’m cold.’ He decided.
—–It didn’t take him long, but no matter the height of the flames it didn’t seem to do him any good. There was a deep chill in him that he couldn’t seem to shake. Frustration set in as the second Sun made its ascent and he decided to inspect the pack that sat next to the small tent. Wylen found a few pieces of dried meat, some useless trinkets and a folded up piece of parchment. Dumping the pack upside down there was nothing else, and he went to seat himself next to the fire again before unfolding the dark brown stained piece of paper.

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