Entries From the Journal of Moreno Dionisio, Part Three
Entries From the Journal of Moreno Dionisio, Part Three
The foul stench of decay and rotting plant matter filled the air. Deafening sounds of insects, amphibians and birds were all the ears could hear, save the gentle sounds of feet wading through the misty swamp waters. Roysia knew to be ever vigilant when traversing unknown terrain: Listening to sudden changes in the sounds, a silence in their noises would indicate a predator is nearby; constantly scanning the tree line for movement, listening for sounds of crunching footsteps.
Roysia crouched down as she crept closer to a clearing in the swamp. The sound of talking and laughter could be heard just up ahead. As Roysia drew closer and closer, she noticed a small campsite, crates and barrels, and a few lanterns to light the misty swamp.
“What do you think boss?” Inquired one of the men as he stood over a small table littered with parchments, small stones and empty wine bottles. Roysia paused and attempted to focus on the voices.
“I think it would work great. After all, how many people have you seen out here?” Replied the figure who was seated at the table. He then directed the two back to the small clearing that was further into the mist.
Roysia squinted as she tried to make out any identifying features of the man sitting at the table, while being careful to remain as silent as possible in the noisy swamps. As she observed the man, she noticed he was writing in a book with a quill.
“Moreno! Over here!” Yelled a voice from deep in the misty clearing. The man at the table closed his book and began to stand up. Roysia quietly drew her bow, and carefully removed an arrow from her quiver. With the utmost care to avoid any creaking, Roysia drew her bow and took aim at the man who was walking into the misty clearing. As Roysia was about to release the arrow, she hesitated and stared for a few moments; watching Moreno drift further into the misty clearing and out of sight.
Roysia slowly eased her hand off of the bow and sighed deeply. As she stared at the table, and book on top, a feeling of curiosity came over her. After a few moments of surveying the surrounding area, she crept out of hiding and quickly ran to the table. As she observed it, quickly flipping through the pages, scanning sketches of flowers, herbs and fungus, she came upon the last writing before being met with blank pages:
Day Forty-One:
The clearing is about finished. I was also able to convince some of the laborers to bring some provisions so we may stay out here for an extended period. I must say, the vast remoteness of this swamp, the constant fog, rain, and mists, this is the perfect spot! I must say, I am rather displeased with Gracie at the Reagent Shoppe back in town; She keeps offering me less and less with each haul I bring in from the swamps. Perhaps I am not the only one supplying her, I should observe further…
Day Forty-Three:
My suspicions were correct. I am not sure how often they occur, but a rather large delivery was made by a group of travelling merchants, several, upon several crates of fresh reagents! If we could strike this caravan, we could not only earn some coin, a large haul of reagents, but we would eliminate Gracie’s supplier… Then we set the price for the reagents. I believe the merchants set camp in the same place outside of the swamps. I will send a few scout…
The sound of distant laughter broke Roysia’s concentration. She pondered for a few moments, knowing she could easily subdue the two laborers, and Moreno Dionisio himself. She smirked for a moment, removed a folded parchment from her tattered robes, and placed it inside of Moreno’s journal. She quickly and quietly crept back into the thick brush of the swamp, further into the misty darkness.
As Moreno returned, chuckling with the two laborers, he took a seat at the stool that was in front of the table. After taking a rather large gulp from a nearby bottle of wine, he opened his journal. An odd look of confusion came over Moreno’s face as he observed the folded parchment. He slowly unfolded it, and read its contents:
“The City of Trinsic hath issued a summons for the fugitive known as Roysia Avelot. As a condition of a gathering, the Governo…”
Moreno quickly stood up, drew his dagger to the fright of the laborers, and scanned the surrounding area; eyes darting back and forth. Moreno listened for the sounds of the bog, the insects, the birds, the reptiles; but was met with silence…