Title: A Toll of a Stroll								
		
Location: Regan

Day 147

	Velgut pulled his cloak tightly around him.  His breath blazed foggily in the air
before fading into the clouds he could not see.  He knew the clouds were there, not by
what he saw, but what he could not see.  The stars, he missed them this early morning. 
As usual, he was traveling alone, at night.  
	The land was much too dangerous to sleep with others around.  It was also much
too dangerous to sleep at night outside of the cities.  Velgut was thankful that he
preferred to rest while the sun was out.  It allowed him safety and solitude.  As a
traveling poet, both were essential elements to his existence.
	He knew it was time for the sun to rise soon, he could feel it in the air. 
Everything seemed to drop in temperature, as if giving the chill of night one furious yet
futile final blast before the sun rose and flamed it all with radiance.  His skin alone could
tell him how late at night it was.  
	Planting his boots in the moist ground, Velgut pushed and panted his way up a
hill.  At the top of it, he knew would lay a view of the town of Regan.  Out of sheer
paranoia, he tried to keep his routes random as he ventured to and fro, but Regan was a
common place for him to pass through.
	Of the dozen or so other traveling poets and artists he had encountered more than
once, all were either still traveling or dead.  All but one.  Liame had given up her
journeys and stayed in Regan.  Velgut, nor his fellow spinsters of rhyme, could reason
why.  None had been there when it had happened, but it was certainly unprecedented in
their miniscule society of wandering wonderers.
	Velgut felt little affection or need for the others.  None of them did.  There was
no telling when a visit with one would be the last.  The poets kept an emotional
detachment from one another as much as they could.  Not only did it spare them constant
torment and anxiety, but emotions were best expunged in their literature.  However,
Velgut did appreciate seeing Liame as often as he could.  There were no romantic
connections between them, she was much too old.
	But it was her age that drew him to her.  Her experience and wisdom were
attributes many assumed he had.  He did not.  Many of his better habits, he had learned
from her.  No matter what words might fill his heart or fly from his pen, no matter where
his travels took him, he always left Regan a better man, until this time.
	Finally standing atop the hill, he gazed down where Regan should have been.  The
sight and scents of decay and destruction were nothing new to a traveler such as Velgut,
and yet this time he did double over and vomit.  Landing softly on his knees, words came
floating into his head to describe the vista below.
	Kage and his Rampage Corps had obviously been through here, buildings were
still burning at the end of a cold damp night.  Velgut gazed up at the invisible heavens in
dismay.  He know knew why the stars did not shine tonight.  They were too polite, and
maybe even embarrassed to shine with the same light of death glowing in that valley.
	A poem began to form in Velgut’s mind, an ode to Liame, but he dared not write
it down.  This poem would not be for others, but for him and him alone.  Besides, if the
fires were still burning, he needed to be on his way.  The Rampage Corps was not
something he wished to share any road with.
	Turning quickly, he trotted down in a random direction, towards a forest with no
path.  There was little chance Liame was still alive, probably none.  If he encountered an
angry Rampage, then there was little chance he would survive either.  He didn’t care if
there were no paths in the direction he was headed.  Velgut knew that any direction
traveled long enough would bring him across a trail or to another person he had met
before.