Strange Highways

It has been two years since I stopped traveling with Da'han and the troupe, yet I still cannot help but miss the comfort of going to sleep to the sounds of instrument practice, poets mumbling rhymes to themselves trying to find the next verse, or the safety in numbers that such a caravan provides. Still, I would still be in Da'han's shadow if I had kept myself chained to his hip like a mewling kitten. Enough of this though, for I have started writing this book for you, the reader, to learn more of the glorious adventures of Za'Jahad! Last week, I had been performing at a small inn called The Brass Bull in Southeast Jorundardalr, one of the Northern Rim Kingdoms. Those Northerners did not tip very well, but at least it kept me out of the cold for a few nights! I'll never let Rauk talk me into taking a job like that ever again; it was so damned cold, one of my whiskers froze and broke off! The gods may take with one hand, but have given with another, as my immaculate luck had paid off. One of the Indigo tabards of the Sacred Heart posted a flier to the board, someone looking for work at the Island of the Council. I didn't care what the job is, it's an excuse to get away from these uncivilized half-orcs and miserable loggers, and see the Island! The journey towards the Island of the Council has been interesting, to say the least. I have passed two merchant caravans, and delighted them with song and story alike to ride upon their wagons to save my poor paws from the snowfall, and now I am but a day's ride from the Island. I have won some gold in the card games and dice with the merchants and their guards; I cannot wait to spend it. My tongue has been quivering thinking of the moon sugar sweetrolls, the luxurious taverns, and of course, the finest wine and spirits brought in by caravan for the councilors and college! All of this gambling and anticipation is helping form words to a song, perhaps it will even be ready to play at the Purple Rose...
 
" I see, my friend, that you have pluck
but you're short on luck; that hand was hard to beat.
And if you find you're feeling cross
about this tragic loss, there's a cause for your defeat..."