Whitefish River novocaine

Don't feel obligated to match the length at all... I started typing and didn't know how to stop myself. Nor do I know why I felt like Mordecai needed to come this far to puke on things... I REALLY JUST WANTED A THREAD WITH YOU OKAY.

edit: also i just realized that this isn't in neverwinter, oops. failures abound below, i have edited this a bit, haha.

Something unspoken of called him out well before dawn. It had called him out in the middle of the night and had sent him at a pace that he did not normally use for travel. It was a sense of restless so captivating that it was a nuisance and it had not been readily comforted by a patrol of the Plateau's inner most border. Not even along the outskirts from the depths of its claim had quelled the sense that he needed to move. It was not an anxiousness that prompted him; whatever it was, Mordecai could not place a word to its being.

And so, he had ventured out.

Beneath the pre-dawn glow, he had stolen away through the niches and nooks of the overgrown forest. Where he was, it may as well have been beneath the very nose and claim of the wolves on Silvertip Mountain, but he felt as though he would not trouble them. If anything, the restlessness that had come upon him was waning as the familiarity of routes came back to him. He knew this trail, knew the ridges and pockmarked dips from pure memory. It was the road towards the Spine and abruptly, he found himself veering off of it as recollection jogged his mind.

Along the scant banks of a near overflowing brook was when everything came to a sudden head. The reason for his scurrying, the reason for the tachycardic pathing to there hit him — unexpectedly, Mordecai heaved and expelled the contents of an undigested meal into the brush. Another bout of it followed, though this time he quelled the sensation to continue its arrival. And then all at once, whatever had possessed him and left him to roam most of the overnight was gone. He found it a bizarre occurrence as to why he had ventured so far, why he felt so driven to put space between himself and what he had acquainted as a place of lodging. With a shake of his head as he turned towards the water, the Ostrega left it unexplained.

If he had come out this far, it wouldn't have been a stretch to waste the oncoming day and venture towards the Bay. He hadn't seen Verrine in what seemed like ages and more importantly, with the nearing of spring he found himself recalling that he had decided to visit him again. To visit his children, more importantly. But for now, that would have to be on hold — a drink was at hand. What little he realized however, was just how far off his mark truly was. The brook was nothing more than a tributary of the river and in reality, Mordecai had lost himself along the fringes of the flatlands and the wilderness.