|A piece of parchment with crazed scribblings|
Description[edit | edit source]
Nowhere is safe. Nowhere. The drums come every night now, a rhythmic pounding that raises terror in every heartbeat. The Darfari are hunting and men are their quarry. I used to hear their drums out in the desert groves beyond Zamboula and in that life, I simply thanked the gods that I had wealth and shelter. But see me now, crouched among the boulders, filthy, ragged and half starved. My days are a constant scramble for food and water and my nights are spent huddled in whatever shelter I can find. Soon I will drift off to the half-sleep of the terrified, to dream of filed teeth and wicked cudgels and the haunting beating of those gods-cursed drums...
Location[edit | edit source]
Presumably near The Summoning Place