My trade as a trapper has taken me over every foot of the Cutlass Keys, from the salty marshes to the balmy veldt. I’ve seen many a thing, but never once reckoned the stories of the Wild Man to be true.\n\nIt started with the pitiful cries of a bear caught in a trap. I was creeping up on the keening beast when I saw him. A man of great and powerful stature, wild of hair and beard, with eyes that pierced his surroundings. He moved as an animal moves, approaching the angry bear with no fear.\n\nHe pulled the trap open, stroked the thankful beast, and sent it on its way.\n\nI am hardened by the years, yet I feared this man. I believe he heard my heart beating in my chest, for his head snapped in my direction, and then he ran up a tree and fled along the branches of the forest.\n\nAs for the trap, it was twisted and bent as if made of the thinnest copper wire.\n

A Wild Encounter

Journal of a Trapper

It’s something like an obsession or maybe an itch I can’t scratch. I keep seeking out the Wild Man. I’ve caught glimpses. Always fleeting. He moves like a panther, runs faster than the deer on all fours. The beasts and the birds, they show no fear of the Wild Man. Even the Angry Earth beasts seem to pay him no mind.\n\nI never get more than a glimpse. He always knows I’m there. He hears every snap of a twig, every brush of a leaf. I suspect he can smell my breath and knows what I’ve supped on the night before.\n

Tracking the Wild Man

Of all the damndest things! It was a flute that did it. Purchased the fool thing from a traveling merchant. I’m no good on it, but I play to pass the time. \n\nMy clumsy music brought the Wild Man down from out of a tree. We watched each other, by and by. It was a good, long while. Then he loped off. Maybe I can tempt him again.\n

Music Soothes the Wild Man

He talks! \n\nIt has taken months, slow gains by tiny degrees, until finally the Wild Man shared a meager meal with me. And then another. It became a near weekly occurrence. He did not much like my tobacco, but enjoys my ale. \n\nLast night, before he left, he turned back to me and said, “My thanks, a thousand times, my thanks,” in an accent I cannot place.\n

The Wild Man Speaks

Tonight, the Wild Man waxed poetic, spoke in verse, told me a tale the likes of which I have never heard. \n\nHe told me of great cedar forests. He told me of a city that surpasses all others in splendor, that shines like brass in the sun. He told me of a companion, a brother in battle, a second self. He told me of epic battles, fantastic journeys, and the hunt for a terrible monster. He told me of tragedy and of death. He told me of an ancient flood and the search for immortality across the furthest reaches of the world.\n\nHe told me all of these things and more. I sat in awe.\n\nWe lingered in silence for a full hour after he finished. Then he turned to me and said, “Of course, the details changed somewhat when they carved it into the stone.”\n\nThat’s exactly how he said it, too. Not “written on the page” but “carved into the stone”.\nI’ll never forget it.\n

Journal of a Trapper Chapter - NWGuide Database of Lore

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