Jarrick Mason
Jarrick sat back against the pole that pitched the back end of his tent, rain softly pitter-pattering just outside. His right leg was bent and drawn close to him, his forearm resting comfortably on it. The other lay straight. His head was bowed slightly, studying the pages within the journal that his thigh supported.
Things have gone better than I expected thusfar. Though it seems negligible to some, it is clear that there is unrest building between us and the Horde after the Destroyer was defeated.
Some Templars have already begun to lay their arms down and return to the life they held before this chaotic past year. In honesty, I cannot blame them as they deserve nothing less than a break from solving this worlds problems. The thought of how long their peaceful existance might last lingers in the back of my mind, though.
There is rarely a time where peace reigns supreme, and though we have conquered one of the greatest threats to ever ravage our lands, something tells me it will not be long.
He raised his head to the sound of the returning Templars that had accompanied him during the venture. There was laughter as they had approached the camp, but there were female voices unfamiliar to him. It seemed they had returned with company from the neighboring village.
I imagine that these coming weeks will be some of the most important as to how this unrest plays out. I have little doubt in my mind that rumors today will be pointed fingers tomorrow, but we can only hope that any disaster that may loom ahead of us can be dodged through diplomacy before it comes to heavy blows.
He rested his head against the pole behind him and looked over at the lantern flickering. His mind wandered to his own life as he watched the flame dance. A smile began to form on his lips.
For the time being, however, we must focus on the tasks at hand rather than dwell on what might be in the future. If there is anything that we can do.. We will be ready.
Thunder rumbled on the distant horizon, and he could hear the clanking of tankards around the fire pit. They had managed to salvage the fire, even though the rain came steady earlier in the evening.
He ran his finger down the crease of the journal page, reading the entry over once more before closing the covers and placing it to the side of his pillow. The rain outside his tent had subsided, and no sooner than he poked his head outside of the tent flap was a tankard frothing of mead waiting for him.
He grinned and grabbed the mead, turning out towards the setting sun as beautifully vibrant blues, greens, purples and oranges melded together and shimmered around the far off thunderclouds. The sweet smell of rain still lingered heavy in the air.
Watching such a majestic sight, he couldn't help but smile.
