A strong pungent scent of salty air permeated Gar’s nose as he emerged onto the deck of the caravel he’d been traveling on nearly non-stop for the past few months. As he gazed to the east, towards a distant coast they’d been hugging, a beautiful orange and red sunrise illuminated the wisps of clouds that were sprinkled across the horizon. This early morning sun was making everything, especially the sails of this little ship practically glow with a preternatural rosy glow. It was beautiful.
Gar’s travels had thus far been blessedly quiet. He’d made good time originating from his current home, the capital city of Camford in the Northern Luvaari Republic. He had to leave his creature comforts at once though. Once he’d witnessed the Aurora – he knew he had to travel south, to see and convince Varchessa, the most esteemed General of this era, that he’d read the signs correctly – it would be urgent! He knew he wouldn’t be alone. He wasn’t the only one aware of the prophecy of the chosen, the ‘Curse-Breaker’. So, Gar, took the necessary precautions. He was quite accomplished in the art of various Magics, Healings, Weapons training and so forth, so knew he could travel in relative safety as he navigated his way south into the semi-perilous environs of the Thersian empire. That was somewhat of a gift in being a Gargoyle; after all, one didn’t really have to sleep, eat or drink – those activities were merely for show. Perhaps those were just a few of the talents of his very rare race, but Gar would take his blessing where he would. No, the real trick was in staying unrecognized. The rarity of his race tended to make Gar somewhat of a celebrity. There were only an estimated seven or eight Gargoyle’s currently in existence; and the last thing Gar needed now was to incite a circus. The solution ended up being simpler than he’d first thought. He ended up donning the vestments of the Priests of Mourning. The robes being both dark, and bulky enough to hide his wings, and replete with a cowl he could hide his features beneath created a more than suitable disguise for the time being.
Gar reflected further on the logistics of his trip that would take him to the far southwestern shores of Thersia, which at this time of year could be tricky. Gar figured the best route to his destination might actually require an extra stop, but, one that might actually save him time in the long run. He caught the quickest ship he could hire, a Caravel this time, out of Camford the following morning after seeing the signs in the heavens. His requests were simple: no questions asked, extra paid for not talking, even more paid upon the return journey if he wasn’t followed. Being only one of a few Gargoyles in all of Hope’s history turned out to be a very pricy endeavor. Gar’s first option for travel would have been to take a flight; either one of the flying Citadels, or airships would have done very nicely! However; there had been a recent outbreak and rash of attacks occurring on that mode of travel between Luvaari & Thersia as of late. Also; Gar could fly at length, but it would not have been possible given the amount of equipment and books he wanted to bring. In his gut he knew he’d likely be spending a lot of time with Varchessa in convincing her she was aligned with the wrong side. However; that was something to ponder later. For now, the vessel he’d been on had been port hopping from the northern region of Thersia down along the northwest, and western seaboard coastline these past few months. Thankfully, the Onacic ocean had been largely calm, with steady breezes. They sailed past the doomed “Lost Duchy” in the middle of the night a few days ago; not daring to stop for fresh water given that those lands had been set upon by a curse of the foulest nature. Gar shuddered to think what had befallen the inhabitants of that once beautiful elven kingdom. There were rumors though, legends that perhaps one of them survived. He shook his head, that would be too good to be true. However; even if there was a shred of truth to the stories, those were more mysteries he’d have to come back to and unravel later.
Gar focused, by sailing past the Duchy, and its characteristic landmarks of a black fog that seemingly clung to the shoreline, it meant they’d be sailing into a harbor that would soon grant him access to the southwest corner of Thersia. Given his calculations they should be arriving at a remote town close enough to the destination of the rumored falling star inside of a week. Once he arrived, he would immediately begin his investigation, try to find out if the any shred of the prophecy was true this time around; and with luck track down the said individual. The so-called…. “Curse-Breaker.”
First (Web) Edition
Jhost (tm) Series, and The world called Hope is Copyright © 2018 and TM 2018 by Matt Ployhar. All content posted to page copyright ©2017-present, and intellectual property of Thoughtops.com/Matt Ployhar. All Rights Reserved. No use or reproduction of characters or artwork permitted. This story & book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Do not use, edit, re-upload, or redistribute any content in any way. Visitors may view content belonging to the author and nothing more. Any use in any way is strictly forbidden. All of these works are not public domain, never have been, and never will be. Do not use, re-upload, edit, etc. any text, image, or character. Artwork of Jhost uploaded to artist's portfolios share these rights and reservations.Any similarity between persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.
Online published in the United States of America
First Printing, 2018
Jhost™ is a primary character from my original fantasy fiction novel. Jhost is navigating his way in a world called Hope - he does not recollect. The story of Jhost has been around since 2003 and is only now being unveiled beginning in the summer of 2017 to present in episodic chapter releases.