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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
He'd spent several hours picking through the debris of human civilization, and all he'd found that might be of use were some nails that looked like they wouldn't rust. Spending so long searching had given him time to think, though.
When he'd started towards Mistfell Vale, he had intended to head straight there--well, as straight as he could be while hugging the coast. But as he got further towards Cercatori d'Arte's old territory, and put the mountains behind him, he found himself wanting to see what had happened to Thornbury. It had been years since they left it, and they'd cleared out everything they could, but could something useful survive?
Pythia had told him nothing would, when he mentioned the possibility to her. Then she'd spat water in his face and laughed about it. Typical.
It would be a few days before he had to make a decision. Once he did, either Pythia would leave and he'd never see her again... or she would try and meet him on the coast in Mistfell Vale's territory. He didn't know what she'd pick; Pythia didn't know what she'd pick.