Of Winters and Warm Fires

Farinyir's Basin; Harroc, Mara, Khan

Domrhask, with eight magnificent towers, is Khy'eras' northernmost city governed by Dwarves. A cautious group due to past incidents, Dwarves do not easily invite adventurers inside and disapprove of magic in their city, no matter the type. Read more...
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Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir
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Khy'eras' Greatest Detective
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir »

Before long the middle ground was discovered and met. Khan’s eyes narrowed a bit underneath his hood, taking in the sheer size of the dire beast being ridden as if it were some beast of burden. It was…magnificent; he could see why Asfaloth had been so eager to meet it. She twined and curled about her companion’s legs, torn somewhere between wanting to guard Khan and sniff the dire wolf. Both hands worked to put away his longbow and the pair of arrows at the ready. Without the benefit of range or the high ground, any sortie would have to be settled by blade.

”Well-met, stranger,” the ranger offered. ”Tis not my land for you to trespass upon,” the gravely baritone rumbled in reply to the cleric girl. The great wolf pawed about, soon changing shape before his elven eyes. Of course, a shape-changer. It was too much to have hoped to see a truly great beast by pure chance alone, it seemed. Sure to erase any lingering expression of awe from his face before pulling back the dark hood, Khan turned his attention to the druid who had so tersely interjected.

The ranger’s brow furrowed slightly, pockmarks and scars littered an otherwise gracefully elven face, the product of centuries worth of life in the wild and on the frontlines of conflict. ”She is called Asfaloth. I am Galynhun-Khan. These had been my chosen hunting grounds until you came traipsing about, scattering my quarry.” It wasn’t a grievance to be aired, but a cool statement of fact. Khan let the issuance linger for only a moment before resigning with a soft sigh.

”Up over the ridge I came from,” he declared, inclining his head toward it. ”There is a small cave I sought shelter in last night, perhaps half a league to the southwest.” If they moved quickly enough, there would be time enough to rest and hunt before nightfall and the temperature dropped even further. The morning was long past now, and the afternoon sun a welcome respite on its own, but daylight did nothing but dwindle as they stood exchanging what passed for pleasantries.

The pair seemed somewhat ill-prepared for a trek through the frozen tundra, if a bit green. Then again, most beings were less seasoned than he was. It was the burden of long life, and Khan’s was just an iota below the halfway mark. No less than three generations of mortal men had lived and died before the ranger had reached mid-life. Certainly there were none left who could recount the Age of Dominance or Valor, save for what oral histories had been passed on. Few outside his own kind had the details properly in order anymore. Men lived and died between beats of an Elf’s heart. But it was neither here, nor there. Daylight was burning, and there would be time for earnest conversation and reflection later.

Khan went to turn, the she-wolf kept her front toward the newcomers, tail up but firm; gaze locked upon them still stuck between guard and welcoming committee.
Word count: 517
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Mara Whitewood
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Disciple of Ristgir
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Mara Whitewood »

Any two people who traveled together for a week would begin to develop knowledge of one another. Mara and Harroc had been on the road for several. In addition to a passing understanding of his assorted bestial noises, she was becoming familiar with how instinct -- that powerful driving force behind the natural world -- had a tendency to subvert more civilized behavior. There was always an adjustment period after each transition.

As Harroc bumped his head against her and whined in a distinctly petulant manner, Mara wrestled with a surge of frustration. Cold, hungry and feeling a little frayed around the edges from their short jaunt, she struggled to summon the empathy that he deserved in that moment.

Prepared to make an effort nonetheless, she attempted to capture his narrow muzzle between her hands. She stroked her hands over the short fur there, hoping to explain more thoroughly why she needed him on two legs instead of four. Before she could do more than draw breath, he buffeted the hood of her cloak clear off her head, exposing it to the gently falling snow, with one powerful exhalation.

Mara's lips compressed for a moment before she willed the expression away. Hunching her shoulders against the influx of cold air that rushed in to fill the space Harroc's large, furry body had left, she drew the hood back over her head and focused her attention on the unfamiliar speaker.

"I am relieved to hear it," she said, though her stilted tone implied somewhat differently.

Harroc rejoined them shortly thereafter and Mara stood quietly beside him, head bowed in concentration. The elf's pointed observation of their blundering trek through the snow did not bolster her already flagging morale, but she did not detect scorn in the true sense of the word. She waited, biding a moment until he mentioned the cave.

"It is our pleasure to meet you both, Galynhun." Mara sketched a shallow yet respectful bow. Upon straightening, she gestured, first to herself and then Harroc.

"I am Mara Whitewood and this is my friend Harroc Crownesgrove. We have traveled here from the jungles of Ninraih on a mission from his keeper." Pausing to give the stranger a moment to absorb the first half of her introduction, she slid a hand into the fold of her robe and produced the sigil of Ristgir strung on a simple leather cord.

Holding it aloft for the man to see, Mara continued. "I am a disciple of Ristgir. My friend is a druid, highly esteemed among his circle. Please allow us to make up for disrupting your hunt; we may share a fire and, if you are amenable, we can talk at length about our purpose here."
Word count: 454
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Harroc Crownegrove
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Harroc Crownegrove »

Harroc finally let his eyes focus on the elf when Mara said his full name. He realized was being horribly rude as the tendrils of instinct evaporated from his thoughts. He gave himself a precursory shake. “I am sorry for my lack of discipline,” he said plainly as he finally looked at the man. “I can take us to the cave quickly if you’re willing to ride, the distance isn’t beyond my capabilities even with two.”

He motioned to the faint paw print his dire wolf form had left in the snow. “After that I would ask for Asfaloth’s assistance in completing a quick hunt. I believe I can capture-” Harroc looked at the sky, judging the sun. “Two elk and return before nightfall if you can protect my companion,” he said looking to Mara.

He turned to face her, speaking to her directly, “I owe you a comfortable rest, so that you might recover. I believe I also owe you several apologies.” He frowned as he recollected the events that had led to their current situation. He stepped closer to her and adjusted her hood slightly. “I think perhaps I should begin using my abilities more fully,” he mused before pulling his staff from his back. There was a burst of energy and leaves sprouted from the wood. He pointed the implement at Mara, then the elf, and finally himself.

The leaves on the staff withered and fell off, leaving each of them with a sudden bulwark against the elements. It was as if they now experienced a pleasantly chill evening, rather than the biting deadly cold of the Reaches. Finally he pulled a small finely written sheet of paper from his pack. He held it in his left hand and pointed the staff at Mara. Nothing obvious happened, until Harroc spoke. He made a carrying yipping bark, followed by a gentle whine. {Protect. Safe. Join.}

As the sounds faded he looked at Mara and smiled sheepishly. “I… forget sometimes that I can do these things. Your words jogged my memory,” he offered by way of an explanation. Then he lept, roiling again into his dire wolf form. Regardless of what the elf chose to do he needed to get Mara to safety and shelter before he hunted. With a great shake of his body he walked over to press his fur against her before lowering himself to the ground. He chuffed when he had settled, leaning against her side gently. {Regret. Care. Protect.} Once she had mounted he looked to the elf with his large eyes.
Last edited by Harroc Crownegrove on November 2nd, 2019, 5:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Word count: 431
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Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir
Character
Khy'eras' Greatest Detective
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir »

There had been more than a few who used the guise of a noble quest to lure the unsuspecting adventurer into some back alley---or dank cave. Whitewood played the part of a fragile, exhausted cleric quite beautifully. Not so beautifully as to inadvertently tip the seasoned investigator to a ruse. Real life was messy, perfectly imperfect; there were always threads that seemed to go somewhere when pulled, but ended up nowhere at all. Instinct told him to be wary, but habit told him to trust the story for now.

As the druid spoke his apology and terms, Galynhun nodded once, inclining his head precisely one quarter of an inch; though his jaw remained tight and almost brooding. Even elemental shape-changers could only live a quarter of the time he could, which was hardly enough to master the art of discipline. Patience, it seemed, was a virtue left for the more long-lived creatures of Khy’eras. Though he took the words at face value, having no real reason to mistrust either of them. It did seem a fair trade for him to join forces, and trade companions for a while. If any harm came to either, Harroc and Khan would be at a most distasteful impasse.

”I find this agreeable,” he said after pondering the proposition. Keeping watch happened to be one of the ranger’s stronger suits, properly up the list next to introspective brooding in darkness and pondering his mistakes. Khan could forgive trespasses against him no more than he could forgive himself for being out of position during the War and to hope to improve upon that condition was of the greatest magnitude of folly.

He watched once more as Harroc unleashed more of his magic, feeling the loss of his own all too clearly again. As the temperature rose, at least for them, Khan shoved the solipsism down deep where it belonged. The druid transformed yet again, inspiring a brief look of awe in the ranger as he faced the great wolf, majestic and proud. Mara climbed aboard while Galynhun reached out to stroke the dire beast’s fur. It was a most convincing facsimile; good enough to have fooled the seasoned ranger up close, and that of the she-wolf that traveled along. Not-so-green after all, he thought.

On some level, Khan wished not to disgrace the dire wolf by climbing upon its broad back as if it were a common beast of burden. But necessity, as ever, was the mother of all things. Gracefully, the ranger leapt up to mount as well, Asfaloth tried and failed to jump that high and plopped back down into the snow. Khan turned to look down at his familiar with an amused sort-of grin and chuckled softly at the mishap. ”Our new friend wanted to run with you anyhow, my dear. It would be rude not to indulge him.” The she-wolf rose, tongue hanging out and tail wagging in understanding. It was abundantly plain that she, too, wished to frolic. How she could abide the biting winter cold would forever escape him, but that too was simply the nature of things. The ranger settled atop the beast with present company, ensuring that he could still reach his bow and quiver should the need arise.
Word count: 544
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Mara Whitewood
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Mara Whitewood »

The shift in Harroc's temperament was not altogether unexpected but the tender contrition he directed towards her did come as something of a surprise, if only a minor one. After all, did she not also bear some responsibility for their current predicament? Poor preparation aside, he was only behaving in accordance with his nature and the lessons he had been taught. To fault him for either of those things at this juncture would be foolish and petty.

Mara turned toward him when he stepped nearer and stood still while he adjusted her hood. Her rigidity, both literal and figurative, melted away and a small wry smile curved her lips. Reaching out, she laid a hand lightly over his forearm.

"I owe you several apologies of my own," she said softly, speaking with her usual equanimity. "Let us each exchange one and discharge the rest."

Harroc pulled his arms back to retrieve his staff and Mara withdrew her hand, returning it to her side. She remained perfectly still while he worked his spells, cautious of any disruption to either, although she couldn't quite suppress a sigh of relief upon completion of the first. The temperature in the basin had been freezing to be sure but she would have made due with her current gear. Regardless, it was a blessing not to feel it quite so keenly.

Mara did not exactly relish the idea of riding again but to do otherwise would be a waste of Harroc's efforts, to say nothing of how it would slow them all down. So, after giving his side a few comforting pets, she did scramble up onto his back, and sat patiently awaiting Khan. After he climbed up behind her, she acknowledged a singularly awkward feeling inside herself; they were near perfect strangers, and if he wasn't pressed up against her back still he was far closer than strangers usually were.

Shoving the feeling down, Mara gripped Harroc's scruff again and leaned across his shoulders. "I believe we are ready, Harroc."
Word count: 335
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Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir
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Khy'eras' Greatest Detective
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir »

The ranger held onto the beast’s broad back with his knees, pressed in just enough to keep him secure without digging in painfully. Asfaloth was all-too-happy to zoom alongside, keeping a faster pace just to keep up with the longer stride of Harroc. The journey had been reduced by a factor of no less than half, something Khan was indeed grateful for. More often than not, the elf preferred to remain connected to the ground beneath his feet, bound to the nature that had borne all things. Somehow riding atop a great beast provided a similar experience, with the added benefit of the feeling of freedom as the wind whipped across his face; hood dancing behind him.

When they approached the cave, he was first to dismount with a flourish, holding his offhand down, palm out; a signal for each of them to remain back as he worked to clear it of any pressing dangers thought to lurk within. The ranger drew his bow and readied an arrow, the swiftness of it remained a thing of legend discussed in some towns. Out and up, he strode at the ready into the small entrance, having to duck himself to get inside. Khan paused for just a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Fortunately, the cave itself was fairly shallow; only enough room for a handful of people to comfortably take refuge within. More of a convenient outcropping of rock perpetually blanketed in snow with just enough hang overhead to provide the security of walls between dwellers within and the harsh winds a-building.

Khan swept from left to right, booted feet making nary a sound with each light step forward. Satisfied it was devoid of life, the bow was put away once more as he turned to wave the lot of them inside. All traces of his former encampment had been erased, save for a small spot of soot where a fire had been built. Dry timber seemed rare enough, but the remnants of what Khan had collected remained in a neat pile in the corner; left as a token of good-will for any other weary traveler unfortunate enough to find themselves in need of the cave for shelter. Apparent he had naught the first plan to return here following his hunt earlier in the day, but onward to a yet unknown destination. The ranger liked to wander the lands, finding the prospect of settling anywhere for more than was necessary to be not only daunting but also outright distasteful.

The well-used pack clattered to the rocky floor as Khan unslung it from his shoulder, and he moved to collect from the pile of dry wood enough tinder and kindling to get a fire started. A few larger bits to keep it strong for a time came along too, but it was clear there was not enough to last more than a few hours’ time. Galynhun knelt down over the exact spot his previous campfire had been erected as to not mar the cave floor any further, and set about building the necessary teepee out of the wood. Satisfied, hands then worked to remove the flint starter from his kit, as well as a long-stemmed pipe, hand-carved and simple; already fully packed with a finely ground pipeweed he enjoyed. Next came one of the daggers sheathed at the small of his back, which he struck no more than a half-dozen times before sparks created embers in the neatly constructed pyre. Embers caught the twigs and kindling, Khan replaced the flint and steel in his hands with the pipe and a burning twig with which to light it.

The smoke was sweet-smelling; once satisfied it was lit enough, the ranger leaned back on his haunches and exhaled a billowy cloud of the sweet smoke into the dank space with a contented sigh.
Word count: 646
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Harroc Crownegrove
Character
Disciples of Balance, Defender of the Woods
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Harroc Crownegrove »

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Harroc felt the elf settle into his back behind Mara and shifted his weight slightly to accommodate him. He also spotted Asfaloth trying to much the same and gave her a wolfish grin. “{You cannot ride atop me now, I want to watch you run,}” he said to the she-wolf as she righted herself in the snow. He waited a moment for Mara’s confirmation, then gave a low keening wail and began to lope across the snow.

He felt a thrill as the she-wolf began to dash about ahead and around him. She had to run much faster than he to cover the same distance. What she lacked in size she more than made up for in enthusiasm and Harroc found himself awe struck with her as they made there way. “{You are beautiful, and I think I may love you,}” he said to her after a particularly showy dash through a snow bank.

It was sooner than the druid expected when they arrived at the small cave. He understood the elf’s intent when he lept down and held a hand to forestall them. He even imagined the fellow meant well and had many years of experience. Despite this, there was a small twinge of indignation as he could already smell and see the complete lack of any dangers. When the elf signaled the place was clear Harroc calmly walked over and lowered himself down just inside the entrance. He titled his shoulder slightly to let Mara know which way to exit and then gave her a gentle nuzzle when she’d landed.

“{We hunt now. Show me how lovely you are,}” Harroc said to Asfaloth with a few short yips, chuffs, and barks. She gave him a smile and an excited yip in return. He made sure to set in his mind to bring back wood as well before the excitement of the hunt threatened to overwhelm him. He began a slow lope, giving a quick bark to the she-wolf to stay beside him at a gentle pace while they moved to where they could detect prey. The pair made quick work getting positioned on a nearby hillock.

Harroc reached out with his senses, projecting his essence deep into the earth. It felt strange, working through snow. Like looking at everything through a faintly muddied stream. When he finally found the elk, they were faint and indistinct, despite not being terribly far away. He gave a faint chuff to Asfaloth and started to bound down the hillside, crashing through the snow at the bottom without losing speed.

As they reached the flat ground Harroc extended his trained abilities outward. A thin sheen of essence wrapped around the pair’s forms as they moved. Their presence became muted, leaving only the faintest whisper of their passing and hiding their sounds and scents to all but the closests seeker. This was his trick, an unfair advantage he used when he felt the needs of hunger more than the desire to be fair.

The wind whipped through his fur, making his great bounding strides feel as though he was flying across the snow. It felt so wonderful to be free to run again. He looked over to Asfaloth, watching her gracefully move alongside him. She was truly beautiful despite being so much older than him. He wondered if she would sleep beside him after he proved how well he could provide.

He’d never taken a companion, finding himself alone in the wilds for so long. His mother had always said one day he would find a beast to join him. When he denied her she had smiled, saying that the protectors of the wilds always found a friend in time. At the back of his mind he knew she was not his to take, but still yearning for companionship gnawed at him.

As his thoughts began to wander over much he spotted the first lingering elk quietly rooting around in the snow. He didn’t even slow his pace, offering an excited bark to the she-wolf before dashing ahead of her. The elk heard the bark and lifted its head in alarm. This provided it just enough time to see the blurred mass of grey and black fur before a maw bigger than it’s head gripped its neck and jerked violently. The elk collapsed, not even having the time to cry out in terror.

Harroc tossed the elk aside, and continued his run towards another small bunch of the creatures. These ones spotted him and let loose terrified barking cries before beginning to scatter. He growled in slight frustration and selected the middle-sized beast to hunt. Then Asfaloth was there, nipping at the elk’s heels and turning it to run perpendicular to Harroc. He let loose a baying howl, relishing the thrill of the hunt just before he collided in a tumble of limbs with his prey. A deft bite of his maw, a quick jerk of his head, and the second elk lay silent.

Harroc rose, shaking the snow from his fur and getting his feet back under him. Asfaloth came over, sniffing at the second downed elk. He gave her a wolfish grin and licked her muzzle gently. The she-wolf gave him a soft nuzzle in return and batted at him with her paw playfully. Harroc yipped happily and then set his great paws to dig a furrow beneath the snow. With some small effort he got the elk onto his middle back and rose. Snow tumbled from his fur but the elk remained settled across his wide shoulders.

Harroc yipped happily and moved to do the same to the second elk. This one was somewhat less cooperative, but he finally managed to get the two mostly nestled along his broad back with some helpful tugging by Asfaloth. Satisfied, he began the slow walk back to the cave. This would be the longest part of their hunt, the careful return of the kills.
Last edited by Harroc Crownegrove on November 2nd, 2019, 5:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Word count: 1000
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Mara Whitewood
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Disciple of Ristgir
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Mara Whitewood »

Mara enjoyed the ride up to the cave about as much as she had the ride up the slope, which is to say not very much at all. All things considered, the journey was a relatively short one, and Harroc was as mindful of his passengers as ever. That did not mean her anxiety was much improved for it, not while the senses she so heavily relied upon to make sense of her surroundings were, for the lack of a better word, impaired.

As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Mara slid to the ground. The snow close to the mountain was thinner and crunched noisily beneath her boots upon impact. Compared to earlier, her dismount was much smoother and she kept her footing without issue, even when Harroc swung his head around to bump her.

"Thank you, my friend," she said, ruffling the fur between his ears atop his large skull. "May Ixaziel bless your hunt and return you both safely."

There was no need to see them off, particularly because she lacked the ability to do so. Mara lingered just outside the cave anyway and listened, head bowed slightly, until the sounds of Harroc's and Asfaloth's footfalls had faded to near-silence. Then, retrieving her staff from her back, she turned and stepped inside.

Naturally, the gloom within the cave was not a detriment. Mara swung the staff from left to right and back again in front of her to roughly gauge the size of the chamber and find obstacles. She guessed that it was not very large, nor very deep, based on how the sound traveled and produced a minimal echo. The air was not as dank as it could have been, but rather contained a faint note of char as if from an old fire.

Mara's steady progress towards the back of the cave was aided by the sounds of industry created by Khan as he went about the task of erecting a fire. Beyond that she would not seek outside assistance, nor expect any. The embers caught and bloomed upward into dancing, red flames just as she was taking her seat a short distance away.

Even with Harroc's spell keeping the worst of the chill at bay, the heat radiating from the small fire was most welcome. Mara sighed, comforted by the feeling, and set her staff upon the cold ground beside her. With a little finagling, her satchel joined it, followed by her gloves. Pale, long-fingered hands were then thrust towards the fire, ostensibly to thaw.

Khan smoked, Mara basked, and a silence that might be construed as companionable stretched between them. Her ears detected no real movement beyond the small blaze before her, which seemed to suggest that he was not up to anything nefarious. It was then that the perfume of the pipeweed reached her nose, sweet and vaguely familiar, reminding her of a peculiar pot-bellied scholar who passed through the monastery on his travels.

A twinge of homesickness caught Mara unaware. The sensation lasted only a second, but within that second she was filled with a powerful yearning to return to the place of her childhood. Further examination of the feeling revealed that it wasn't the place she wanted as much as the time; it had been simpler then. Safer. Internally, she quickly and firmly set aside the impossible in favor of present concerns.

"I must thank you again, sir," Mara said suddenly, her voice raised only as much as was needed to be heard over the crackling fire. "My friend is faring well enough but I fear that I am not."

Mara paused long enough to rub her hands together briskly before pressing them over her cold, wind-bitten cheeks. "As I said earlier, we have journeyed all the way from Ajteire at the request of Harroc's keeper. There are rumors of a white owl that may live somewhere in Farinyir's Basin. They say it is nearly as big as a man, and some believe it to be a spirit of some kind."

All of this information was true insofar as Mara knew it. Lying did not even cross her mind. In her opinion honesty was easier to live with even if it was painful in the telling, and in any case she was quite bad at it. Perhaps it was naive, but she thought that the quiet stillness surrounding Khan made it that much simpler to speak straightforwardly. He simply didn't feel as though he posed any danger.

"If you do not mind my asking, have you heard or seen anything of this creature? Do you know anything of it?" Mara turned her head fractionally to the side, angling her ear towards him in preparation for an answer.
Word count: 787
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Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir
Character
Khy'eras' Greatest Detective
Level
01
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir »

It was only when the dire wolf brought the cleric all the way to the entrance that he noticed she was, in fact, burdened with sightlessness. Khan had heard more than a few spun-tales about blind swordsmen, those who appeared to live with great difficulty until there was a need for battle; then they seemed to possess a sight beyond sight. Asfaloth and the great beast strode off, hopefully to return with sustenance. The ranger eyed Mara as she sorted out her new surroundings and joined him by the fire proper to thaw out.

”Hmm.” came a thoughtful grumble as Khan toked away on the pipe, listening to her admission and subsequent story. Atjeire had once been his home as well, though he had left of his own volition centuries ago. It had been long since he returned to that now-faraway land. Some said time was capable of healing all wounds of the soul, but nothing could wash away the pained memories of his youth despite all he had tried. Being reminded of it wasn’t easy, as flashes of a past life filtered to the forefront of his mind; impossibly long red hair, a kind smile and even kinder soul. A quarter of a millennium later, it still weighed down his soul. Khan’s hand tightened around the bowl of the pipe, eyes focused on a point some leagues away unseen; mouth slightly agape as smoke billowed from his nostrils. Still he heard the words being spoken, and the question posed.

There was a brief moment during which he said nothing. Not considering his answer, but still lost in what was lost. ”Perhaps,” the reply came at last, as he brushed aside his silent reverie once more. ”Three nights ago, or was it four… There was a call that roused me from a dead-slumber. I shan’t forget it, deep and booming. It was like nothing I’d heard before, yet strangely familiar. A single hoot, but so great that even the trees trembled at its’ sound. By the time I glanced up, whatever had made it was gone. Nary even a flap of the wings…”

Galynhun chuckled softly, just once. “Hah, I had thought it was a waking dream, brought about by overindulgence of the pipeweed… The next night, I could not help but feel as if I was being watched, yet I found nothing to warrant such.” The ranger paused to take another draw of smoke into his lung, held it for just a moment or two and let it loose with a soft nod. ”Yes, I believe I had ventured too close to its’ hunting ground. If it is the great beast you seek, we need only wait until the moon is high to listen for it.”

A smile threatened to upturn his dark, scarred face; transform it from one of gloom to that of awe once more. Khan doubted their intentions toward such a great owl were fowl. It was indeed rare to encounter beings from the wood that would wish harm on such a creature. Khan’s instincts told him it was a quest of great importance to them, else Mara wouldn’t have come out with it so directly. Perhaps it had been fortuitous they had intruded upon his aimless travels in the frozen North, after all. He wished not to interject himself into their journey more than he already had, but a large part of him wanted to find this owl if only to marvel in its splendor for himself.
Word count: 588
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Harroc Crownegrove
Character
Disciples of Balance, Defender of the Woods
Level
01
24 / 24 HP
21 / 21 MP
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Race: Elemental and Shapeshifter
Class: Druid
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Re: Of Winters and Warm Fires

Post by Harroc Crownegrove »

Harroc led Asfaloth back to the cave slowly, snuffling at her and learning of her travels with her ‘hunting leader’, as she called him, Galynhun-Khan Tinnudir. He seemed to be an interesting man, roaming far and wide, never settling in one place for overlong. As he listened to the she-wolf’s retelling of their journey he realized she would never be with him. Asfaloth had chosen Khan, and there was no room for his large muzzle between them. ‘Perhaps I can convince them both to warm me if not her alone,’ he thought idly as the neared the rise that would lead to the sheltered cave.

His essence still rested on the pair, so it was likely even the trained hunter had not yet noticed them. Wanting to avoid unnecessary danger, Harroc gave a low wail of greeting as he moved near the slope. This would give his two-leg companions time to prepare and reduce any sudden arrows or blades. The druid noticed the distinct scent of sweet smoke just before he came into sight of the cave. He wondered if it was one of Mara’s many fine smelling mixes or something altogether more mundane.

He peered into the cave and saw Khan, smoking a pipe and looking at him. Across a small fire sat Mara, warming her hands. Harroc chuffed in greeting and then shook his shoulders to drop the elk carcasses in the snow just outside the small cave. He looked to Asfaloth and chattered and whined for a moment, “{Stay here. I’ll go get more fire. Stay warm,}” he said to the she-wolf before galloping off down to a distant copse of dead trees.

When he arrived at the collection of trees Harroc lept into the air, putting his forelegs down against a leaning trunk. The tree cracked and snapped, a large section of dried wood splintering off and falling to the snow. Harroc grabbed it in his maw and tugged it effortlessly back to the cave. Once he arrived he dropped the log into the snow and made to shift forms again.

Landing he immediately turned and slammed his palm out towards the log. The wood broke apart, forming a collapsing pile of forearm size and smaller chunks. The druid quickly gathered several of them into piles at the side of the cave before he brought two smaller chunks to the existing fire. “I see you’re seeking to reduce the signs hunter, but I can deal with those easy enough,” he said as he made a scooping motion towards the stone and let the fire sink into a small depression he’d carved in the rock. Once the fire had settled he added his pieces and the blaze grew in size and strength significantly.

“Asfaloth is a beautiful wolf, powerful, smart, and she speaks kindly of you,” he said to Khan as he settled in beside Mara to shield her from the wind outside the cave. “I am sure Mara has told you why we are here, did you know anything of the snow beast?” he asked giving a slight grin towards the woman’s visor. “I think we should be close, but I am worried whatever trouble summoned us has extended her hunting grounds,” he added thoughtfully.

“I can help strip the meat after I rest for a moment, but do not wait on my account,” he said suddenly. Before leaning slightly against Mara and closing his eyes to rest.
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