From Linear's Journal


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Wow am I out of place. That is, if I continue thinking of place merely to be a specific space and not the universe. Thinking in terms of what merely lies before me-- the creaky hull, the peculiar ways of over-crowded humans, the fights for entertainment...

Last night I was overwhelmed with longing for the familiar forest and left my hammock in search of something, some connection with home. I found myself leaning on the wall taking in the smell of the ships old wood. Hardly a substitute for the magnificence of a solid Paldese Pine. My nose, which is my most powerful sense (and I'm an Elf!) has gotten me somewhat disoriented. Only occasionally do I enjoy a familiar scent. Of course, I mean material scents. That is not to mention scents that give away the motive of living things, such as when a man is nervous or frightened or readying for battle. They are pretty much universal. Even the Faran flower gives itself away just before it sprays. I mean the good stuff like rain-soaked bark, or a friendly wolf's matted coak. I went up to the deck and, oddly enough, the salt air brought me home. I remembered the trashed woods after occasional Windbolsts (hurricanes) and this very smell. Now I know where it came from! What powerful winds! What a wonderful discovery.

I would have stayed on deck, but another strange man I've met sleeps there nightly and I'm not quite sure about him yet. He seems to possess Elven sensibilities, yet is quite a different being. I think we will be allies, but I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to share the top deck with him.

I feel a little awkward and stand-outish, which is not my usual state. In the woods, I could easily opt not to be seen, or otherwise detected, at all. Here, I am one of a few Elves and often only go unnoticed because a fellow Elf, Angry Pipe, who stands out boldly both in stature and manner. He is a most facinating Elf. I guess by human standards (I have to practice this stuff) I would say "I am 5'7", 150lbs. and kin kick yer ass!" I don't know why they are so obsessed with height and weight, but suspect it has something to do with their sport. Of what importance is your height and weight when Oaks stand a 100 feet tall and weigh hundreds of thousands of pounds... and what meaning do such physical imports have to a druid?

I am happy not to be wearing my leather armor as it might be a little odd for this crowd, having been fashioned by my own hand. It's like a second skin at this point, but certainly deeper, richer earthen colors than my own, made mostly from bison. I do miss my hooded robe though - the one given to me by my mentor when we parted. I do feel a bit vulnerable. Luckily, we've all got on these uniforms. It's nice to show off my woods-trained, lean muscled body amidst so many sloppy, slow, over-fed humans. I don't think I would survive too many of one of their heavy punches, though. That is, if such a being could land one on a fellow with my speed.

There's this guy on the ship named Mosholu. A fascinating man and cunning dealer with humans. We have struck an interesting friendship with an oddly true balance. Me and a human. Who'da guessed. I do have to be careful, however, to keep myself out of too much trouble.

To be continued...