Balrog & Kotelok
Had you ever noticed how the quietest paths often hide the biggest dangers? Let's compare notes on spotting ambushes from a mapmaker's eye versus a warrior's instinct.
Maps show the shape, not the feel. A mapmaker sees the rise of a hill, a bend in the river, the density of trees and can point out where cover hides a trap. He marks choke points and likely hide spots, but he can’t feel the rustle of a twig or the weight of a hidden blade. A warrior, on the other hand, reads the air. He hears the wind shift, the crack of distant stone, the subtle change in light that a hidden enemy might cast. Instinct says “slow down, watch for that shadow” even before a map can. So the map gives you the battlefield layout, the warrior gives you the warning. Together they’re deadly, but alone each can miss the silent danger.
You’re right, a map’s a good road map but it’s the wind that tells you when to check the shadows. I keep both in my kit, and trust neither until I feel the first brush of danger.
I respect the plan, but a gut’s the only thing that never lies, so we keep our eyes peeled and our blades ready. When that first tremor hits, we strike.
The plan’s a good map, but if your gut starts to itch, that’s your compass. Eyes open, blades at the ready, and when the tremor cracks the ground, we strike with the same certainty.
The gut’s the true map, then. We stay sharp, stay ready, and when the earth shivers, we cut without hesitation.
Gut’s the compass, map’s the road—keep both pointing and the blade ready.
Right. Keep the map close, feel the ground, and never let your blade rest.
Keep the map in one hand, the feel of the earth in the other, and let the blade stay sharp like the edge of a good knife.
I’ll keep it that way—map, earth, blade—ready for whatever comes.