Fantasy [cBn] KV_IC

[Pilgrim59]

Sigrid Ravenchild
Sven's Point, West Tuta
shadowz1995 ​

Her eyebrows parted from her gleaming scarlet eyes. A soft chuckle escaped her fair lips, as the Raven's rosy cheeks gave heed to its frivolous counterpart, glowing most wonderfully beneath the absent sun. She was glad that, despite the blood on his apparatus, and the tremors of his firm hands, she was able to persuade the weary mender to conjure a smile. Yet, beneath her cheerful façade, a part of Sigrid made her wary of the sage's lost eyes. Neither by Hakan's outward deformity nor the belligerence of his perfect mien, but by how he could perceivably look beyond the veils of the Raven's youthful front. She was afraid that her own truths would inevitably be at cross with her own companions. They needed a figure to inspire them and to give them a purpose, not a mad woman with a vague dream. As such, Sigrid could only be what she is now - no more perfect, but no less unrefined. Alas, with Hakan, she was always enthusiastic to seek an answer, even if she must swallow her artificial pride.

Reminded of Hakan's rumors of distant kingdoms and barbarian lands, Sigrid raised a brow as he referred to the afterlife as 'Valhalla', curious as to what other names he would call upon in the stead of Solsgard. It amazed her, for her intrigues seem to perpetuate around the particular details of casting her gaze upon foreign lands. She became obsessed with her dream ever since her arrival in Vaeborg, and such fiery compulsion only manifested fervently as she continued to find distance between her and the old frigid realm. While she was eager to learn, Sigrid knew it in her heart that it was nothing more but a distraction to keep her mind guarded from a preposterous desire to cross the wild sea.

Sigrid's hands held tightly onto Hakan's right hand, letting the man know of her appreciation of his efforts, despite her unspoken gratitude. She reflected on her own well-being, wondering why Aedayn has yet to grant her the slightest glimpse of Solsgard. Not in dreams, not in waking visions. All she found was the perpetual silence that haunted her waking hours and restless nights - all in the form of a voiceless raven. Despite her works, against beasts and men, she felt unsatisfied with the gods' reticence. It irked her, so much so that she was fully convinced that she had embarked upon this uncertain quest to test Aedayn's patience.

But at the end, the Raven was inclined to soak in the heavy vestige of her own warped mind. Her distant gaze upon the distant blue horizon was interrupted by Hakan's commensurate measure of concern as he tugged upon her fair hands with purpose. She gave him a half smile, before leaning in closer. "It would be unbecoming of me if I smelled like clovers and berries. Alas, I am renewed by your mere words, Hakan... " By instinct, she appropriated her response with a corresponding tone to hide her troubles - but to no avail. Her smile would dissipate, as she bit her lips with a grim expression. Knitting her eyebrows together, the Raven finally gave heed to her fluttering, disorganized thoughts, of which was quick to take hold of her words. Heeding the ghastly bird's trace, Sigrid inhaled deeply, before finally breaking out of her false façade. "... At least, that is what I tell myself."

"The Black Bird followed me, Hakan, and for the first time in my life, I am ... uncertain." She spoke, with her tone more reticent than it was before. As she professed her softened state, Sigrid held herself at contempt. It made her felt weak, while fulfilling the very thing that she had wished to avoid. But her late dreams have only stirred her heart more than it did her already-unsteady hands. After many years of fighting in Jarl Sten's wars, Sigrid had inadvertently adopted his mindset. While her hands and feet moved to secure her own vision, her mind has always been a prisoner to the Jarl's design. It irked her, to be in conflict of something she was so certain yet so uncertain of. She knew not why she had chosen to say what she did, but the Raven knew better than to disobey Aedayn's will.

 

[shadowz1995]

Hakan Ingolf
Sven's Point, West Tuta
Interaction: Pilgrim59

As always, whenever The Blind One and The Raven Child spoke in private, Hakan could feel her interest and attention. The Sage was fully aware that his manner of speaking had been influenced significantly by his time abroad and this always seemed to spark Sigrid's thirst for knowledge. It was always endearing to witness the way her heart seemed to speed up or how her breaths came a little quicker whenever he said a word or phrase that wasn't native to Tuta. The girl's adventurous spirit and desire could scorch the entirety of Tuta if given form.

"It would be unbecoming of me if I smelled like clovers and berries. Alas, I am renewed by your mere words, Hakan... "

The healer shrugged, the corner of his lips turning up a little more before quickly falling into a neutral line. His eyes widened slightly, as if in expectance and he tilted his head at the woman quizzically. It was as if he was asking a silent question. Sigrid almost always spoke fully and with confidence, regardless of whether or not it was how she truly felt about something. It was why Hakan made an effort to truly focus on her when she spoke.

Her breath came slower now and while she maintained her grip, through her fair hands he could feel the rest of her body seemingly tense. Something was on her mind... something she couldn't dismiss or ignore.

He turned his head slightly, listening for any eavesdroppers or tactless stragglers that may want to come interrupt her train of thought right now.

The crimson eyed woman breathed deep, filling her lungs with fresh air and let out a long sigh right after. She felt like she was deflating. Letting go of the mask of heroism and dropping the weight of leadership from her shoulders. It wasn't often Hakan saw her be this shaken up by something. Had something happened during the battle? Did she lose a friend?

"... At least, that is what I tell myself."

The mender remained silent, his head still tilted slightly, listening to the rhythm of her breaths for any sudden changes. His colorless eyes seemed to search her face for an answer and his silence prodded her to continue.

"The Black Bird followed me, Hakan, and for the first time in my life, I am ... uncertain."

'Ah..'

Her visions.... the guidance of Aedayn in the form of a jet black raven which guided Sigrid along her "destined" path. They had spoken it about several times in private, to try and make sense of them with little progress. The will of the gods was always a strange one to follow but this one in particular was even more enigmatic than most. Sigrid was never urged nor was she punished or discouraged for obeying or disobeying. Merely shown. Ambiguous didn't even begin to describe what that was like and it made Hakan pity the younger woman a tad. It can't be easy living with such a gift.

His unseeing eyes were cast downwards for a moment. The mender's mind began to race and search for answers, pulling out old memories of scriptures, tomes, or stories he had read that could be of some relevance to this vision she just had. The more he searched, the closer he came to a conclusion.

Hakan looked up at her once more and gave the young woman a warm smile once more. He gave her hands a light squeeze in an attempt to comfort her before speaking.

"Raven or not, I don't believe your feelings of doubt have to do with Aedayn's will. Not this time." He said in a tender, comforting tone.

"Think about it, Red." A nickname given her striking scarlet mane and visage, "As hot as your desire is to venture into the unknown and burn your mark into the annals of history, this is still all new."

Hakan looked at the woman straight on now. His eyes unblinking and focused on where her face should be, "As exciting as new can be, it's also fairly terrifying." The male said with a light chuckle. "Every single legend of every epic tale has felt what you are feeling now. Doubt, uncertainty, and fear."

He paused for a moment, again, making sure no one was nearby listening in on their conversation, "Guided by the hand of Gods of not, we are all still mortal, Raven Child. It's normal to feel this way. It's what you do, in spite of that fear, that defines you."

The Blind man freed one hand and reached up to one of Sigrid's shoulders to give it a light squeeze, "Worst case scenario this all doesn't work out. But it would be better to fall trying than to live here regretting never tried."

Hakan then gestured to their companions still looting and gathering themselves for the trip ahead, "We all believe in your cause. Some more than others," he admitted with a shrug, "But none of us would be here if we didn't think you were headed in the right direction. We have your back, Sigrid. And if all else fails, you've still got me and Hagrimm. We're too stubborn to let you do this alone."

​

 

[FiveElemental]

Harper Isket
Sven's Point, West Tuta
Interactions:
Sigrid Ravenchild Pilgrim59
Hakan Ingolf shadowz1995
​

Yet.. such an opportunity was ever to be given. To say he was disappointed would've be an understatement, thankfully, such feelings were immediately overshadowed by the immense relief he felt, as the battle was won quickly due to Sigrid's decisive strike against the bounty hunting brigands, as she did not even wait for the Galeshield to dissipate. She yelled out a valiant warcry. He had never seen her in battle before; the precise ruthlessness was simply terrifying, yet... mesmerizing. Such a display of footwork, and her skills with her axe, presenting a fight more akin to dance, every action she took, showed the many years she built off of, many grueling hours honing her instinct, yet it changed, when she drew upon her magic, which significantly empowered her, yet it was clear to him. The ritual she utilized made her attacks more ferocius, more irrational. Thankfully, others were empowered by such a display, quickly joining her side in battle, cutting down the enemy by the second. As the battle soon came to a conclusion. A one sided victory for us.

As soon as he felt tension leave his body, his vision honed in onto the battlefield, bodies littered the grounds, death permeating the soon to be forgotten battlefield. The forest will come claim its feast, however, he would first make sure that nothing worthwhile would be left behind. At least, that would have been the course of action he would've taken, before he took note of his Commander, laying on the frigid grass, unresponsive and unmoving.

He approached Sigrid's body, and knelt next to her, taking quick note of the expression that was on her face, which radiated a calm exterior, showing peace and contemptedness, despite being unconcious... "Not a good sign," he noted. As he checked on her condition, mostly her lungs. Breathing was hoarse, inconsistant, and her reservior was dark, too dark infact, that she was starting to draw on her Od, her life-force. Normally, it it would've be fine to leave a Drawer like this however, when he placed two fingers on her nape and checked for her pulse, he immediately knew that he needed to perform a Aether Transfer, he had both the means and the skills to do such a task, as he contemplated for merely a moment, before resolving himself to do as such.

In scholary circles, a small amount of pure aetherium energy, proportional to size, has been found naturally occuring in all living creatures, from the smallest ant to the largest magical beast, from these observation it's been theorized that this is what allows for beings to live, the life-force that maintains our bodies. This is easily observed by examining the dead, as once a creature dies, this energy lingers briefly, before disapating. There is no official name for this phenomenem, but these scholars has unofficially dubbed this energy Od. Named after the Archmage Odes, the first to officially write about this fact about the world. It is considered the membrane of the soul, and the basis of all magic that governs this works, the spark that lights the fire used to forge the tether between your soul and the Heavens. In most cases, it is the blood that sparks the creation of the connection. Since it is considered such a safe process that most Drawers are not aware of this phenomenom, resulting in them accidentally drawing upon it on times of need, especially during fierce combat scenarios.

He took a deep, calming breath to steady himself. As Harper gripped his iron dagger, and placed the knife onto his hand, as the sharp blade bit into his palm, drawing red crimson from his flesh, a familiar pain oozed from his palm, as he placed the dagger down onto the grass, and gripped her right palm with his uninjured hand, as he began chanting in an indecipherable language once more. As the nearly overflowing aether in his system began flowing out of his body, as he forced it into her reserve, her body greedily gulping up the aetherium energy, aiding her in replenishing her life-force. As he watched for her Od, begining slowly replenishing itself, her breathing easing, and becoming more clearer.

He watched her condition for a few more moments, before he stood back up, she would wake soon, and Harper wished to not panic her. He turned his attention to the fierce warrior standing near her. Hargrimm, the Stonewall. His build certainly lived up to his name, toppling Harper in both height, weight, and most likely intelligence. He gave the silent warrior staring at him a respectful nod.

"Aetherium Strain, she'll be fine." He mentioned empathetically, in an attempt to ease any worry the silent sentinel may have had. Picking up his dagger, and sheathing it. As he got up, and left them to their own devices, and went to make himself more useful. Like catching fish for the pot.

-----------​

With his wounds patched, and two bowls of food in hand. Harper searched for Hakan, he felt the need to check on the Blind Sage, and make sure he was eating properly. Without his overcharge of Aether energy, he would most definetly not have been able to help the Commander, he found him chatting up Sigrid, like good friends. Perhaps he knew her well? He would inquire about it another time. He waited for their discussion to finish before approaching him.

"Hakan! Got some hot food to warm your bones." He mentioned casually, as he handed one of the bowls to him. A warm stew with plenty of fat and fish meat to reconstitute even The Stonewall. As Harper took a seat nearby on the ship, placing his food close to him.

"Say... while I got your attention..." He said, pausing briefly as he shuffled through his coat, and easily pulled out a leatherbound book, dextrously opened it with one hand. "Wanna compare some notes?" Trying to conceal his obviously excited tone.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sigrid Ravenchild
Sven's Point, West Tuta
shadowz1995 FiveElemental ​

Sigrid's eyes lit up, despite her worn countenance, at Hakan's discretion with an epithet that he had given her. Surely, it was not exactly a surprise given her outward appearance that was perfectly described by a simple but truthful adjective. While she welcomed his words, the young girl was still encased within the confines of her own contemplations. She would accept failure as a teacher, but would not forsake her personal dream of setting her sights on the land promised to her by the Black Bird that often plagued her wake. Hakan's gentle hands did its job at softening her guard, but she was still inclined to let her wild heart throb over the perpetual question of her existence.

As the blind sage's eyes finally locked its gaze with hers, his words had outflanked and bit at her closed soul. While she did not concur aloud, Sigrid must admit that there was some truth in Hakan's wisdom. It made her wonder, then, if he had seen the same uncertainties in ithers that bore greater ambitions than hers. It would be a prudent endeavor to naturally seek out Hakan for what she ought to do, while also bringing about a conclusive mark for why she often turned to Hakan for these perceivably reticent talks. In fact, she enjoyed these exchange of words, that were as soft as a Lunala Moth's silk, over the brave cries of Aedayn's chosen.

Like a familiar book unending, Hakan unveiled his revelations of her circumspect mind, gradually washing away the dark shroud of uncertainty that plagued her thoughts. A light smile formed on her face, almost as if she was braving through Hakan's truth, rather than taking it as nothing more than the ordained attention she was dued. "The Gods have blessed you with a sweet tongue, Hakan. And that makes you quite a menace to the old ways." She retorted in a light-hearted manner, as if she had renewed herself via their brief but enlightening discourse.

Their conversation was joined by the abrupt arrival of an outlander that managed to sashay his way into the fray. His dialect betrayed him, as the Raven was beginning to piece together his odd device that he would keep on him. An apparatus of milky filaments, bound a leathery cover. Unfamiliar with such an equipment, Sigrid had not the time to inquire of the mage about it. All the more an intrigue for the curious red warrior to pursue in times such as these. But inevitably, she would be on her feet again, as she was often demanded to by her need to remain mobile. To always be at the ready was her curse, the Raven contemplated as her crimson optics locked gaze with the young hexer. While Sigrid knew not how he had managed to survive in Tuta thus far with such an uplifting personality, she cannot ignore Hakan's case, as they both seem to share a trait most rare in the unforgiving land of Tuta - compassion.

"Nouts? I'm afraid you have me at a complete lost, hexer, and that's most rare among my deferred company." She replied to Harper, as her arm stretched forth. In a swift and decisive motion, the Raven grabbed a hold of Harper's neck, as she bore her knuckles upon his apex. Rampaging through his hair with her rough fist, Sigrid enjoyed herself as she gave the man a rough noogie to dissuade him of his attempt to playfully trick her with his magic - at least that was what she thought.

"I applaud your attempt, Harper, but you'll have to be better than that." Sigrid chuckled aloud, before letting loose her elbow and hold on his neck, but not before she deliberately messed up his hair finally in a playful manner. "You obviously favor Hakan more, so I'll let you two enjoy yourselves." Sigrid joked, pointing at the fact that Harper had procured a meal for Hakan and himself, but not Sigrid.

"Watch yourself, Hakan. He might try to ask you for a favor." Sigrid chortled, as she got up and eyed the treeline briefly. "Enjoy it while its hot. We're departing as soon as Aglain returns." She announced, passing Hakan with an acknowledging tap on his shoulder, before taking off towards the other side of the docked longboat to procure her own meal. Her scarlet hair danced elegantly in the breeze, marking the Raven with a distinctive flair of nonchalant grace, despite her grim apparatus. With the warm fire embracing her approach, Sigrid cast her gaze instead towards the cold horizon, pondering upon the making of their final destination. She rewinded Hakan's recent words in contrast, as if to segregate her own entangled state of mind.

She settled her hands upon her fastened hips with her bright eyes screening their shared destiny at the edge of the world. "History. That does not sound too bad a cause. Though I wonder if anyone will remember us when we pass Aedayn's gates." She then turned towards the grey skies above her with a deep breath drawn from her newly-procured arrogance.

"I hope you will entertain me." Sigrid challenged.

 

[shadowz1995]

HAKAN INGOLF
Sven's Point, West Tuta
Interaction: Pilgrim59 FiveElemental


Hakan could tell that the scarlet warrior was considering his words as he spoke and it seemed to be having a positive effect. Her muscles loosened and her pulse and breath seemed to come to a slower, more relaxed pace.

There was a stretch where she said nothing but the sound of her lips parting betrayed her smile. A smile which he returned happily.

"The Gods have blessed you with a sweet tongue, Hakan. And that makes you quite a menace to the old ways."

"Ah. The thing about the Old Ways is... they fancy themselves to be the only way. There are many ways, Red. Many. Too many for any one people to obtain the whole truth about."

Just then, a walking contradiction and colleague to Hakan joined their conversation. The smell of hearty fish and meat combined with the light sloshing of liquid tipped the Blind Sage off that Harper was walking with two bowls of soup. The mender released Sigrid's hands and turned his attention to Harper now.

"Hakan! Got some hot food to warm your bones."

Followed by the offer to compare notes. While Harper may not know it, Hakan equally loved to compare studies and finding with other seekers of truth like Harper. He was about to reply before Sigrid made a swift motion that Hakan couldn't quite identify. The sound of fabric and leather suddenly being jostled caught him off guard and his face reflected that. His eyebrows shot up but he could sense no hostility from the woman.

It was only when the scratching sound of knuckles being scrapped back and forth on someone's scalp made its way to his ears that Hakan realized what was happening. His lips parted in an open grin and a light chuckle made its way through his throat and out into the air. Different as he may be from the "traditional" Tutan, a Tutan he remained. These displays of affectionate rough housing are something he was equally fond of.

"Watch yourself, Hakan. He might try to ask you for a favor." Their leader said with a playful tone. It earned a shake of the mender's head, his smile remaining intact.

"Yes, heavens forbid someone commit the atrocity of asking me a favor." He said with a healthy measure of sarcasm and humor.

She announced that they would be leaving soon and tapped his shoulder to announce her self-dismissal from the upcoming dialogue. The healer gave her a nod as she walked by but she was still within earshot of Hakan when he returned his attention to Harper.

"Of course, Harper. I'm always willing." He finally replied. He quickly attempted to clean his hands of the blood on them by rubbing them on his trousers and once he was sure what remained wouldn't stain the parchment, Hakan removed the worn, leather satchel from his shoulder and laid it in his lap.

His own deft, dexterous finger undid the clasp on his bag and he began to trace his fingers along the dedicated markers within to let him know where he organized his notes. After a few seconds, he found his journals of personal discoveries and fished out the most recent edition along with what he could manage to fashion for a writing utensil.

He opened the, comparably newer, leather journal and wet the tip of his utensil in cephalapod ink, "So, what observations have you made in terms of the differences in Arcana between here and the southern lands that we are headed towards?"

It was as he asked this question that Sigrid's sudden challenge reached his ears. He didn't have the context for it but he could tell she was facing the sea. Her footsteps hadn't indicated she had turned around. The right side of his lips turned up in a silent smirk.

That woman's ambitions would make her a legend passed down in history. He just hoped her tale would be one of inspiration and not caution.​

 

[Remembrance]

​

Eyvendur Barendsson
Sven's Point, Western Tuta
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: Pilgrim59 FiveElemental shadowz1995

​

Eyvendur sat motionless, a bowl of steaming stew blowing the fresh mush that was their food into his nostrils. The seawater beside them helped little in masking the repulsive scent; in a twist of fate, it made it much worse. His hands cupped the bowl in spite of the heat, it would be the last warmth he'd experience before they boarded the ship and sailed off. As he sat there, he reflexively turned down his sense of smell, believing it better to live in ignorance towards the putridity of the stew than begrudgingly understand the unknown contents within it. The inner workings of his mind ran on overdrive, pondering too many things to count. It was unlike him to be as such, him who was capable of keeping a single train of thought with ease. Eyvendur knew the cause of this disturbance, he'd really only known it for a week at best.

The cursed Raven Child.

In a swift move, she had knocked down the pillars which supported Eyvendur's rationality. It threw him into a spiral of hatred and wrath. The Raven Child was small in size yet bigger in confidence. A battle of words would not sufficiently shut her down, it would have to be proved via force. However, who would Eyvendur be if he challenged the leader of this ragtag party. How worse off would he be if he lost? His mind couldn't fathom the infinite possibilities that would arise but he knew for certain he could not test his luck. Her disposition towards him was that of provocation so there was only one solution. Spite.

That, however, was for another time. Eyvendur would take his revenge another time for his grudges are not so easily forgotten. He found solace in finding a solution, even if it was lacking in malice. His ears perked up as he listened closely to the conversations being taken but he was particularly attracted to the machinations of three people. The Raven Child, the Blind One, and the Useless. The third's title is merely an observational nickname given to a man Eyvendur knew little of and didn't quite care enough to learn about. The Useless was skinnier beyond belief and from his appearance, it seemed he did very little rowing.

Their words meant very little to Eyvendur, it was of little importance. So, with sorrow in his heart, he looked down upon the bowl of stew now warm enough to be eaten with less caution. Despite the smell permeating no longer, he knew not what this stew was composed of. For all he knew, it was leftover meat from the battle they had just endured. Eyvendur didn't quite understand the customs of the other regions of Tuta but it wouldn't be surprising if he heard of a small city-state consuming the bodies of their slain foes. Much similarly worse things were common amongst the fringes. His eyes were planted still upon the stew with a shaky hand slowly lifting up the wooden spoon he was given. Eyvendur rationalized that it could not be as bad as he thought it was. With an open mouth and eager stomach, he found out that it was indeed all bad.

 

[Zombehs]

Aglain Ervak​

Foreset around Sven's Point, West Tuta
Open for interaction.
​

"Understood." He nodded towards the Stonewall as he plucked the stones from his hand and they quickly disappeared beneath his cloak. "Kindly ignore those who'd suggest leaving me behind, I won't be long," he replied with a hint of good cheer as his eyes lingered briefly on the snow white fox. The moment was fleeting though, and he quickly departed to accomplish his self-given task. The shadows cast by the treeline reached out to him in as if welcoming an old friend into their murky embrace. The soft mutterings Aglain used to weave his aetherium swallowed by the night as he searched for any remnants of the raiders.

Even with the cloudy night sky above, Aglain's eyes quickly adjusted once the campfires were behind him. The footprints left by the dozens of raiders were quickly picked out, and he began to track them back towards where they must have set up camp beforehand. He didn't expect to find many valuables left behind with their packs, but the dead men would not be needing their rations any longer and Aglain would happily help himself to the choicest picks.

First off was making sure there weren't any other dangers lurking around though. His ears twitched at every little sound around him, but he didn't hear anything too strange. Just the sound of wildlife calming down and returning to rest now that the raiders were no longer present. In the distance, the sound of vaguely familiar voices. Not the desperate sort that would have signalled Aglain to investigate when he had tracks to gleam the identity of those that had separated from the main group during the fighting. The deep footprints in the mud were likely the berserker's as he gave chase to... well, the exact number of foes was hard to discern with how torn up the ground was in the man's wake. Lighter footsteps tracked afterwards and he closed his eyes to replay the last moments of the battle in his mind. Not being caught up in the thick of things gave him a perfect perspective for recalling details like that.

'Ah, the smith.' Nodding to himself as he knelt down and lightly brushed one of the imprints, he was fairly confident that the weight and mark matched someone of her stature. If the pair had run off during the battle, it was more than likely neither knew of Sigrid's rush to depart. If he didn't notice their return on his way back, Aglain could swing by and notify the pair of them. For now though, he still had a job to do and that meant keeping his own steps light. Overconfidence could turn him from the hunter to the hunted in short order after all.

With Sigrid's reminder in mind though, Aglain did not have the time to be as thorough as he would have liked. At the very least he could say that none of their attackers had managed to retreat through the woods, and the deserted campsite that he finally arrived at helped to reinforce that conclusion. He lingered by the edge of the clearing for a few moments to scout out things out before he slowly crept forward.

The smell of ash lingered faintly with the winds fairly calm, but the fire pits were long stamped out. Not even a single ember remained in the scattered holes that had been dug out. All of the raider's belongings had been stowed away already as well; seemingly in preparation to move quickly after they performed their ambush. That just served as an annoyance instead now as he was forced to turn everything out in order to loot.

His ears flicked a few times as he looked around before he reached down and unhooked a wineskin from one of the raider's pack. A quick sniff of its contents brought a small smile to Aglain's face and he took a swig from it before he opened the pack and overturned it onto the dirt. The clattering of a dead man's belongings rather out of place in the otherwise peaceful woods.

 

[mewmilk]

Ásta Reidr
Sven's Point, West Tuta

Interactions: N/A
Mentions: Pilgrim59 Nessi Remembrance ​

A warrior shouldn’t lie whimpering like some frightened beast awaiting the butcher’s knife. One severed leg, and her opponent seemed to fall apart entirely. Sword and shield both abandoned to staunch the stump’s bleeding. A useless attempt to delay his departure to the hall.

It was a disgraceful sight, yet Asta felt nothing but joy at the pitiful display. There was certainly more glory to be had in slaying a defiant foe, but to crush a man’s will entirely was no less satisfying. Both were proof of one’s prowess over another. Unfortunately, she knew she didn’t have time to relish it.

A quick follow up to her initial blow cleaved through the man’s unprotected neck, decapitating him. Her old man always told her it was better to end things quick. She saw no reason not to follow his advice now. With the lone raider dispatched, Asta moved on to hammer the enemy’s flank together with Hargrimm.

"AEDAYN KICHITAN!"

She heard the Raven shout. And with any luck, he’d have to wait a while longer for her or any of her companions. As for the rest of them, she’d gladly do her part to arrange the meeting.


The battle had gone by in mere moments, or so it felt. The twenty to thirty some odd raiders wasn’t a lot to chew through, and now it was time for leftovers.

She carried out the task of scavenging at a brisk pace. Anything of passable quality that had remained sufficiently intact, she promptly looted. Corpses were stripped bare, and those still breathing were quickly relieved of that particular duty. Dead men would voice no complaints, nor had they any need of the dignity afforded to the living. The greater sin would be to leave all this perfectly good equipment to rust in the sand.

Cradling an assortment of salvaged armor and weapons, Asta carried them over to the longboat to set them down with a thud. Then, she plopped down on the boat herself with a sigh of satisfaction.

Most of the armor didn’t suit her size, and would be useless to her, but they could still be of use to the crew. She vaguely recalled there being a blacksmith among their number. Though she knew little about how smithing worked, she reckoned the lady could use the extra material. Perhaps she’d ask her to make a helmet, one with a visage as dour and glum as that of the pointy-eared merkai beside her.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Árni Nyhus
Sven's Point, West Tuta​

Pilgrim59 Remembrance shadowz1995

Having satisfied his supplication, the Wolf-hunter had nothing much to do on this fair point. His legs carried him through the bloodied corpses. He studied them, their features muddied by the grime, their blood crusted on their skin. He took up a sword and an ax from the deceased. He lifted these implements of destruction above his head and began chop, chop, chopping away. The arms were severed at the shoulder, the legs at the hips, then lastly the head at the base of the skull. The wolf lined the extremities like a box and in this box, he placed the stumpy torso and loose heads. He gathered bundles of twigs with a keen-eye towards certain types. Tinder, kindlers, and fuel. A smile most sinister impressed itself on his face. Even the leather vizard failed to hide this devilish grin.

With stone and sword, he sparked a spark that warmed his heart. First, there was smoke then orange spots which soon led to a small fire. It bounced around until it caught another thing on fire, soon it would spread rapidly. Árni backed away, watching his magnificent creation burn. The yearn to toss more dross into this conflagrating mess was strong in the young warrior, but he resisted. For if he succumbed to his baser instincts then this bright star would consume, not just him, but all who were present. His back faces the creation and Árni departs towards the ship.

Again, he wandered aimlessly. Until the tickling scent of stew prickled his honed nose. The sniffer marked the path, it was up to Nyhus to follow it. And his discovery was quite interesting. Slurping on that dish had been none other than the Jarling, the betrayer who purveyed his charge and subsequently his people. The Wolf did not approach him, instead he observed from afar. He sat flat on his toosh, with knees making a perfect crosshair on the Mad Dog Barendsson. He wondered whether spying on the Raven and the Blind was the wisest decision, she sooner would have him parted from his head if she were to find out... Or maybe not, she never struck Árni as the radical. Or possessing the cojones to actually go through with that prospect. Nyhus thinks the Raven still has use for this obtuse fool so abducing proof served as no tool.

But he will continue watch. For now.

 

[Firelie]

Servant Aeora​

---

The night was always quietest after a fearsome battle. Aeora was unsure if the battle she just bore witness too could quite be classified as fearsome. From the young sisters perch in the trees above the now deceased warriors camp it had seemed like quite the one sided triumph. Aeora had to admit it was impressive, these people certainly were the remarkable warriors the seers said they were. Aeora wouldn't allow for anything less, she was to escort these warriors across a dangerous sea to an unknown land. If this group were as good at sailing as they were at fighting, there would be no problems.

Not long after the bloodshed one of the warriors came wandering into the now abandoned camp. Aeora silently watched him, crimson gaze locked onto the approaching man. The most noticeable features were the large pairs of ears situated on her head, marking the man an Astrian. It was hard to tell much else about him in the dim light, other than the fact that he was indeed armed. Aeora bided her time and decided to keep herself hidden in the dark canopy above to watch just a while longer as the man moved cautiously into the camp. She could tell he was listening as he passed below her but as Aeora was silently perched he did not detect her. She would have to make a move soon, it wasn't her intention to deceive him after all.

She decided to make her move when he took a swig of the wineskin and began ransacking the belongings of the deceased. She deftly dropped down from her tree making no more noise than a bird of prey launching off of a branch as she fell through the air. She landed behind the Astrian with a soft thud. She stayed knelt in the braced position she landed in for but a moment, rising fully to her feet only as the man noticed her. Veiled in a cloak as black as a starless night with a modestly ornate mask covering the upper portions of her face. Aeora let a silence permeate between the two for a fleeting moment, crimson gaze looking inquisitively up and down the Astrian. "I mean you no harm." She finally spoke, her voice velvety and soft, free of the strained tones that came all to often to the throats of the boisterous warrior folk of Tuta. Even fully cloaked Aeora was a rather strange sight. She poised herself with a unique elegance that was present even under the enveloped mystique that a cloak provided, and she stood a head shorter than the Astrian. The mask that marked her a Kras Vulper would be the strangest thing were it that he was unfamiliar with the disciples of Temple Unceasing. "I watched your battle with the warriors of the Jarl. You fought with terrifying might." Aeora's gaze shifted to the spear on the mans back. "Such unique craftsmanship, not to mention the size. Even after seeing your ferocity with the implement it is hard to believe it functional. Surely it must strain you to lug it around." Aeora turned her gaze back to the man after finishing her praises of the mans prowess in battle. "Oh, but I forget myself. I am Sister Aeora, a Kras Vulper of Temple Unceasing. My superiors have seen it fit to seek out The Ravenchild and her band of... Misfits. If it is not too much a burden I would be most grateful for a guide back to your camp, once you are finished here of course." Aeora had more to ask the man as well, keeping him here would give her ample time to prod at her potential companion. For now she stayed where she was, making sure not to encroach on the man before he showed himself at the very least tolerant of her company.

Zombehs

 

[Zombehs]

Aglain Ervak​

Raider's Campsite
Firelie
​

His teeth sank into the wineskin's opening as both Aglain's hands were needed to draw and string the arrow as he whirled around to face the sound. "Tch." The sound was a bit muffled with his mouth somewhat occupied, but he relaxed his posture quickly as a glimmer of recognition crossed his expression. The arrow was returned to his quiver as quickly as it was drawn with a deft flick of his fingers. "I'd probably be in a lot more trouble if you did," he agreed somewhat gruffly after another quick swig from the wineskin.

Given his line of work, Aglain was at least somewhat familiar with the other groups that engaged in similar activities. While it was less decorated than the other two he had seen before, the similarities between the mask weren't lost on him. Shaking the memories quickly before they could bring on any feelings of annoyance, he looked the Temple's agent over once more before he turned his attention back to sorting through the spilled out belongings. Sigrid had already attracted all manner of individuals under her cause, so was it truly surprising that she had attracted their attention as well? Allowing all of them to simply die and be forgotten in some unknown distant lands must have chaffed the order something fierce.

Her praises did earn Aeora another look from Aglain as he raised an eyebrow at the masked girl. "Some days I do wish I picked something a bit easier to carry about," he agreed with a shrug as he picked up a wrapped up bundle and brought it close to sniff. It was part of why he had planted the spear on the beach instead of trying to carry it through the woods after all. An amused snort escaped him as he dropped the bundle into the emptied pack as he nodded. "Misfits is about as apt a description as any. Aglain Ervak," he introduced himself in turn as he swept his hands through the items once more before he dismissed them and moved onto the next pack.

Well, almost dismissing them. Now he had another set of hands to help carry stuff though. He was originally focused on just finding anything he would have enjoyed, but if he could foist some of the burden onto the Sister then he could also bring back other supplies that would have been useful. "Sure, can't see Sigrid turning down even more companions and I'm sure you'll rile up the fox a bit. Are you by yourself?" The last and only time he had a run in with others from her sect they'd been working together as a pair. It had turned out to be a pretty big job, so it could have just required a bit more manpower on their end. Then again... the band of misfits wasn't much smaller than the group of bandits either.

 

[Ramjammer]

Jox liked the beach when it wasn't covered in blood and littered with corpses needing to be stripped of their valuables. The ocean breeze was refreshing, and the tang of salt tickled his nose pleasantly. While not as warm as he'd have liked, the sand beneath his paws was still soft enough to rest on. There were also lots of nice stones lying around. The good, smooth kind of stones. Polished into discs by time, and wind, and water.

Given that his companions were all tending to whatever things occupied them, and seeing as he had nothing else to do, the Astrian kept himself busy with a task of great import when one found themselves at the beach.

He built a sandcastle.

Now a good sandcastle was oft the result of a full day's work. Buckets upon buckets of sand painstakingly crafted into a fortress worthy of a King. Jox didn't have any buckets, and the rat man doubted everyone would wait around all day for him to finish his castle. He settled for piling mounds of sand into towers with his clawed hands and decorating them with rocks. It was prevailing wisdom on the beach that only the greatest of all sandcastles were made when the builder was enjoying themselves the most.

The Astrian derived a sense of peace from his silly task. Despite having taken numerous lives not long ago, Jox was not a rat to dwell on such things. The ebb and flow of the natural order demanded that some live, and that others would die. The Astrian came out as the one who lived, and so was rewarded with the enjoyment his survival offered him.

Though fully occupied, Jox kept his ears pricked and alert for any changes in the surrounding environment. The voices of his companions made a nice accompaniment to the crash of waves. They ate, spoke, and tended to damage of both body and the gear that shielded it. The strife that had marred the day was all but forgotten. And so for a moment the Rostakor's wayward son forgot too.

A shifting of sand and the patter of many legs bent the rat man's ear, and he looked downward. It was a crab, no bigger than his paw. It scuttled towards Jox and his sandcastle, oblivious to his presence. Jox watched the little creature with mild curiosity. He didn't get to see crabs often and so found the funny little things interesting.

Alas, what the crab did next was not at all funny. Upon reaching the base of the sandcastle, a teeny pincer stretched outward to prod curiously at the stones acting as the foundation to one of Jox's towers. In the blink of an eye, it yanked one pebble free and the entire structure came tumbling down.

Jox inhaled sharply through his nose, and the fur on his neck bristled in his irritation. To so flagrantly destroy the works of the Rostakor was an act of war. In its blatant disregard for the Astrian's sovereignty over the patch of beach upon which he'd constructed his sandcastle, the crab had taken up the mantle of belligerent in the whole affair.

Why the crab would perform such an act, Jox didn't know. There were plenty of rocks on the beach to choose from. If it needed a pebble, it need not look far. Yet the crab, upon obtaining its prize, only inspected it with beady eyes for a moment before carelessly dropping it. It was at that exact moment that something profoundly dreadful occurred to Jox.

Crabs were maybe racist.

For what other reason would the small creature have taken something from him, Jox, the only rat on the entire beach? Not only then had the crab forced Jox's hand into waging war on behalf of his clan, but the very act had been motivated by bigotry (possibly).

This idea took root firmly in the rat man's mind and a somber expression overtook his face. It seemed that there was to be more blood spilled that day.

Mindful of its pincers, Jox plucked the crab from the sand and shoved the crustacean live and whole into his mouth to devour it. A shame for crabs that, besides being racially insensitive (supposedly), they also tasted good.

The rat man sighed and set to rebuilding the fallen tower of his sandcastle. Such was the price of war.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Late Spring, 47 AC
Stormy Midday

Joined by two peculiar souls that was found by Aglain, the Sisters of the Temple Unceasing complemented Sigrid's band, under the conviction of their patron deity. While their true intentions have yet to be made known, among others, the Raven was not foolish enough to decline their service, for every hand that she was given, she was grateful - not to the gods, but to those that was willing to take a chance with her. Among the few things that maintained their loyalty was the handsome share of equipment that Jarl Sten had provided them following the Oathsworns' victory over their aggressors. Thanks to Asta's efforts, much of the enemy's equipment were still intact, especially when her eyes were better than most when it came to looting. In Sigrid's eyes, the short warrior had a certain gift for picking out fresh equipment.

Arni's peculiar action with the corpses have kept the other sailors in line since their departure from Sven's Point, for they feared what would become of them should they come at cross with the Wolf. Particularly when he had not voiced any thought on Sigrid's leadership as a whole. As such, uncertainties worked against Sigrid's assailant as much as it did her cause. Thanks to Jox's dealings with the assailant of his sandy creation, Sigrid had made sure that her crew would pluck all the crustacean they found to appease the Astrian's wrath. Well-fed and well-stocked, they were able to brave the seas for as long as they did. Meanwhile, Hakan's abilities kept at bay the detriments of their fragile bodies. The wounded were returned to service after a week of speedy recovery, thanks to Hargrimm's help of hurling them aboard the vessel albeit like tossing potato sacks without much care for gentle handling. Among them was Otrygg, of whom the Stonewall was most inclined to agree that he was better off with Solfrid treating him. Hargrimm was fully convinced that she was the only one that was able to hold a conversation with the berserker far better than he did. Instead, Hargrimm had kept himself for the past few days with the oar in his hand. The redundant task had made him numb, so much so that he could no longer feel the weight of his armor tugging against his already burly physique.

The vessel tossed and swayed to Mitr's deafening drums, as the brave Tutans strained their weary arms upon the oars. The Raven and her band of misfits were at the sea's mercy. For two whole weeks, they have rowed and rowed, battling the astral projection of their hubris. The Ancient Gods, displeased with the Raven's defiant heart, have cursed her band with the burden of their greed. The accumulated metals that the fallen have provided served only to rust within the ship's hull, while the salty abyss weathered the Tutans' hearts. Many began to lose hope, while others became concerned with Sigrid's seemingly delusional optimism - threatening to invite several blades to her back. Among the few prominent individuals that accompanied her, the young warrior would not be surprised if they were the first to strike. Alas, there were many that knew better than to fold in to the ways of old. After all, they had all gave up their mundane lives within the comforts of their home to be drinking salted water for an opportunity to be a part of something greater. Neither for the Gods nor their Champion - but for themselves. Such was the hubris of humanity, but it is their curiosity that would test their creator's mettle. For when the gods remain silent, it was up to mankind to take up arms and forge an unforgotten path.

As the heavy gale began to batter the sail head-on, a magnificent azure wall of glimmering foams unveiled itself, marking the edge of the world that the Tutans were so fearful of being swallowed by. The Tutans were approaching their inevitable end, for Mitr had grown sick of granting them an ungrateful passage westward.

Worthlessplebian Soviet Panda shadowz1995 Huntertabbysandshark3 Zombehs Firelie AriAriAbabwa Nessi Sacrosanctis Arnalia Remembrance FiveElemental mewmilk Ramjammer Minyari animegirl20 ​

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sigrid Ravenchild
Open Seas, Unknown
Worthlessplebian ​

The Raven donned a defiant grin, as she fastened herself to the dragon's head. With the sunstone in her left hand and an intricate navigating device conjured forth by the efforts of Hakan and Harper in her right, Sigrid began to ponder upon the possibility of their demise for openly defying Mitr's grace. Thanks to their given time to discuss the matters of the arcane over soup, the little device that they created aided Sigrid's ability to navigate into the open seas, rather than being blown north-ward by Mitr's Breath - a phenomenon that have yet to fail at keeping the best of sailors to navigate beyond the coastal current. Alas, the Raven was not troubled by such tales, for her childish audacity had kept her forward thus far and and she would not throw away her dream when they have yet to see what was on the other side of the World's Edge.

"Put your heart into it! Row! Full speed ahead!" Her voice rang across the turbulent waves, just as deafening as the sporadic thunders that announced the Tutan's inevitable demise. The Raven's crimson eyes shot back towards her crew, as she tucked away her navigation apparatus in exchange for the ropes. As she yelled, the Raven began making her way towards the mast, in an attempt to disengage the sail. The wall of blue behind her continued to amass its strength, rising and rising unto the grim sky above. Emerging from within the vessel's tent, Hargrimm cast aside his oar and pulled one of the sailors into his spot. He then began to yank the ropes to aid Sigrid in her endeavors. With the wind passing them by, it only made sense for them to reduce the drag. The sail were then folded upwards, giving both Hargrimm and Sigrid to secure the roping. Having accomplished the first task, the Raven moved onto their next assignment, of which was hastily put together as she moved. Shifting past the Stonewall, she withdrew an inscribed krozat from his belt pouch hastily. Turning towards Arni, Sigrid snatched an arrow and tied the stone near the tip. Having done so, she would began chanting, igniting the krozat's marked inscription softly as it began to glow. The augmented arrow was then placed within the hunter's hand, as Sigrid stretched her hand towards the general direction of the Wolf's designated target.

"Aim for the rising!" She ordered Arni to fire towards the intermediary height of the giant wave, where they would ride their way over the monstrous wall at an angled ascension. With the runestone she gave him, the krozat's illumination would aid the helmsman's visibility amidst the heavy storm. It was now up to the Wolf to light their way.

SEAFARING, 47 AC
Location: Open Seas, Unknown
Scale: Mitr's Wrath
Belligerents: Sigrid Oathsworns against The Sea.
Rules & Conditions:
Sigrid and her companions are caught in a storm on the open seas. A great wave is converging upon them. Players must row or perish. Consequences will be decided dependent on the players' actions.

 

[Arnalia]

Kaija Laine​

Mentions : Pilgrim59 , Zombehs , Ramjammer , Worthlessplebian , Remembrance , shadowz1995 , FiveElemental

The beach​

Sigrid tried to reassure her a bit as she passed her hand through the fox fine white. She leaned into the touch, when one of their strongest archer—of which he remember the name was Árni— called her "a good girl", she was used to people treating her like a pet, often a dog and sometime a cat. Which had offended her at first until she became a slave and being cajoled like a pet sounded better than being treated like dirt. So Kaija grew used to it. She knew from his tone that it was a compliment, one she had received many time when Jarl Sten household began to respect her. The fox let out a small gekker at him as he walked away.

Just in time to see Sigrid talking to Agrain about scouting the perimeter. Perfect moment to abandon him here the fox dryly thought. As if reading her mind Agrain said, "Kindly ignore those who'd suggest leaving me behind, I won't be long," while briefly looking at her. Kaija gave him her best puppy eyes and tilted her head, akin to a smile too sweet to not be sarcastic. The bat man seemed well aware of her opinion on him. Which she didn't like as one should always hide it claws. But hey, at least she wouldn't have to find excuses to watch him now.

As Sigrid and Hargrimm left she shifted back, took her little bag and went back to the boat. On her way she took her time to observe what the crew was up to. All of the surviving enemies had been promptly finished off and looting was advancing well.

Away she saw Sigrid talking with Hakan, seeming deep in discussion. Only he could reassure Sigrid better than her and Hargrimm combined. The blind healer was a truly kind soul, one of the few Tutans Kaija did not simply respect but liked as much as Sigrid. Which was the closest she had to a true friend....along with Hargrimm...maybe ? The man wasn't really talkative but had never treated her badly when she was a slave. A rare thing that made the fox less suspicious of him when he betrayed Jarl Sten for Sigrid.

Contrary to the scrawny man that joined them, this one, seemed...odd. Well, it did surprise her that a traveler from a land most Tutans did not know existed ended up here. Despite the years his accent rang a bell for her, it sounded as foreign as her own when she first arrived. Was he aware that he might be a living proof that there was land beyond ? For to Kaija frustration, most Tutans did not believe her when she spoke of her motherland.
His behavior was unusual but...friendly so she guessed the best was to leave him be and just make sure to check on him once in a while.

After all she already had Agrain and the "Baron" to watch. What was his name again ? Eveydenur ? Eyveden ? Evedynur ? Ah ! Eyvendur ! She had hoped his name wasn't as complicated as him but the look on his face regarding the stew said it best. When he proposed to join Sigrid she had immediately being against it. Why would a Baron join a band of ragtag mercenaries believed to be chasing a mirage that most thought would only lead them to their dead ? This sounded like the beginning of a bad joke, but beside her heavy suspicions, she was certain a noble used to be in command pampered and catered too all the time, would sooner or later complains about this and that and be annoying or worse try to start a mutiny. This one, she would watch out for as much as bat man, if not more.

Finally near the boat she remarked Jox angrily chewing at a crab. She raised an eyebrow before her gaze saw the crumbled sandcastle, Kaija let out a chuckle and smiled. Aww, how cute ! She walked toward him and immediately proposed her help, making sandcastle had been a long time pastime for her when she was a child, it had not stop. For it made her remember the time when her father taught her how do to it right. A time she had missed and was happy to relive by helping Jox.

---

Interactions : FiveElemental , Minyari , Sacrosanctis , any characters who wish to interact

Stormy Midday​

Two week. It had been two week since they left Tuta, and nothing except blue, birds and this weird crew. Well, Harper in a harmless—for now—way and Árni in a strange....way ? She would have said disturbing, but who know ? Tutans could be weird like that and beside it kept the crew in check, and with many dubiously loyal to Sigrid she was glad for the wolf action. Not that she was that horrified by the blatant disrespect for the corpse of their enemies. She was numb to such barbary since she started to kill for Jarl Sten. But not being able to give them decent funerals had effectively bothered her a bit. Would the gods forgive her ? She knew the Tutans gods would, after all they died in battle, the way every Tutans thought one should die. But would Aerilia forgive her ? Kaija chased those thoughts away as soon as they came. She did not know how she would deal with that when they would inevitably reach the lands that worshipped the goddess, but now was not the time.

Kaija thought about trying to boost the crew moral by telling them of her land to reassure everyone that, well, there IS a land beyond, but had been mocked so many time before for it she quickly dismissed the idea. Instead during those two week she did whatever she could to help the weaker members in the crew. The wounded until they recovered, glad to spend some time with Hakan, the one that looked to tired to row, encouraging them or even taking their place when she had the strenght. For those that started to lose hope or miss their home rather than scold them, she decided to lend an understanding ears and a shoulder to relied on. Drawing on her experience away from her Karelia and her dear familly she patiently tried to soothe and erase the doubts inside their minds. Hoping the certainty she spoke with when asked if there was truly something waiting for them except death, would ease their worries.


Now as the boat was violently rocked by the enraged sea she could only pray she had given the crew enough hope—but more importantly strength—to row like famished bears that just saw honey, for they would need at least that much if they wanted to survive this storm. Grounding herself she shouted "HARPER, NERISYS, YOU'RE THE WIND PROFESSIONAL CAN YOU DO SOMETHING ?!" Then turned toward the crew and continued "IF ANYONE IS A SAILORS OR CAN HELP DON'T WAIT UNTIL WE'RE DEAD ! THE OTHER USELESS PETS LIKE ME YOU CONTINUE TO ROW LIKE YOU'RE RUNNING AWAY FROM YOUR TAXES !" She shouted, being in danger was not new to Kaija, she had a very basic if not elementary knowledge of sailing, that ugly pig of Jarl Sten, rarely allowed her on boat, lest she would tried to escape. As if she could magically swim back to Karelia just because she survived a shipwreck !

In those moment all she knew how to do was encourage others with a bit of gallow humor and hope her allies would solve the problem as she holded on for dear life and rowed.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Árni Nyhus
Stormy Midday​

Pilgrim59

The brief interval between port and sea disappeared in Árni's mind as the crack of a storm's thunderous whip alerted the Wolf! Thrashing waves, gloomy skies, and pelting rain reinvigorated the hunter like never before! Not even the battle at Sven's point could compare. This is what it meant to fight for precious life, the ultimate test against a foe that cannot be bested. Nature itself, the greatest adversary against the advancement of sapience in this world. Now it fought against them, this deathly storm. The powerful winds knocked off Árni's wolf-head and leather mask, revealing his features more than ever before and struck him like you would strike a disobedient dog. He wrested control of the oars, trying to synchronise his movements with the others.

Until the daughter of the black omen plucked an arrow from his quiver, his eyes followed her and he understood what she was doing. He tucked away the oar, getting up from his seat. The waves threw the ship around like the toy of a child, but the hunter did not surrender. His legs became firm yet flexible, quickly anticipating and adjusting to shifting tides. A difficult endeavor, yet he made it by her side.

With the patience of a veteran, Nyhus waited until the Raven's completion of the incantation. Sigrid barked orders through the mired atmosphere, his keen ears barely picking up on them. Target set, it all rested on his shoulders. No pressure.

His bow was lifted,
Imbued arrow, notched
String pulled,
Lungs drew breath.

The rocking waves matched his beating heart, the golden runes alongside the arrow shined through the dark. The boat tipped down... Then up, his fingers released and the arrow flew.

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Kara
Interaction:​

Sure Kara was picking through the pockets of the dead mumbling to herself still tho quietly, again lot of people around for extended periods of time wasn‘t what she was used to but Kara was adaptable at least she told herself so it wouldn’t be hard just a time of transitioning between it is all. She’d then look up form what she was doing seeing Hargrimm along with something to eat being handed to her prompting a small smile form her. “thank you Hargrimm, forgot about getting something to get something to eat" she'd reply as she'd again sit down to eat, "you seem a bit hmm lost?“ Kara asked tail swishing back and forth gently.
——————————
From port To the sea it seemed again there fortunes turned soured the ocean itself trashing their vessel as if in protest to the quest they where on. Wind battering the vessel like a cruel winter her hair flittering in the gale as she‘d have a somewhat hard time hearing but the sentiment of the order was pretty simple and obvious, ROW Like your life depended on it because it most certainly did, oh and there was someone yelling about taxes? Why? Was this some bad joke Kara didn’t understand. Well it didn’t much matter right now she just needed to row.

 

[shadowz1995]

Hakan Ingolf
World's Edge, Out at Sea
Mentions: Pilgrim59 Arnalia

The trip there had been as arduous as he remembered. How many times had he been caught out in a storm while voyaging to the lands beyond? The Gods above only knew but even these torrential waters wasn't the worst he had ever experienced. However, this was not a crew of people who had done this before like himself. This was a crew of fresh, superstitious Tutans that believed this was truly the world's edge. The rain and salt water pounded against his face as he rowed but the thought still made him smile.

Like Kaija, he did his best to convince the other crew members that this was not where the world ended and there were many lands beyond. He spoke different languages and told stories of the kind of people that were waiting for them beyond. He even started telling tales of how bad the waters could really get if the Gods really wanted to blow them asquall.

Hakan even resorted to chastising some of the crew members that brushed off his and Kaija's words, as if they knew better somehow. These overly verbal Tutans who thought they knew better despite having never step foot outside their little village. It served to ruffle their proverbial feathers but it also silenced any further grievances from them.

The Sage's back muscles strained with effort as he rowed against the winds of fate. It was an old, familiar sensation and Hakan had almost missed the sweet burn of rowing in the ocean. As such, he was more enthusiastic about it than most of the others.

Nonetheless, the mender had switched off recently with another crew member and was on Standby in case anything catastrophic happened. His hands had already been bled, ready to cast a spell at moment's notice.​

 

[Sacrosanctis]

ANJA LINDSTRÖM
Sven's Point, West Tuta
Interactions: Pilgrim59 Remembrance
​

Turning her attention from her unfortunate captive, Anja gave her unexpected guest a once-over. She was aware of the suspicion that festered around Eyvendur due to his status as a...baron? Some sort of noble. She didn't care for such hearsay and prejudice. She only relied on herself to assess people's character, and from his mischievous grin she could already tell that they shared certain hobbies. "How foolish would I be to ignore such wisdom? Only slaves and peasants would shoulder an unnecessary burden." Before she could relieve them of the extra company, Sigrid approached, and she fumbled to capture the thrown arm-ring while her mind could only focus on the sudden proximity of the red-haired beauty. She listened attentively to her words, satisfied with the explanation of their earlier engagements. So the Jarl attacked out of vengeance...it made sense. In the first moment, it was irritating to think that such filth would dare to cause Sigrid harm. But then she remembered her leader's breathtaking battle frenzy...

She cleared her throat and stormed off before Eyvendur could catch her staring. It would be best for the Jarl's pawns to survive and stir up more trouble. After all, such rubble would never come close to matching Sigrid's prowess, and she would gain even more opportunities to fight alongside her.

In the moment, Anja felt little interest in filling the down-time with small talk. She caught Eyvendur grimacing from the rations of stew that were offered, so instead she joined the odd crab hunt.

Open Seas, World's Edge
​

Anja was well-acquianted with deep waters. It had always beckoned to her, and she felt at home there. But even she was not confident that she would survive a shipwreck so far from land. It was invigorating. Her heart fluttered against her chest as the wind whistled past her ears, and she fought to maintain her coordination despite her hair blowing aggressively across her face.

She smiled as Kaija made the quip about taxes, her arms straining to row. Even if she wanted to try saving anyone who was pushed overboard, the only thing she'd probably accomplish is going down with them. So instead she simply tried to play her part. "Put your backs into it! Showing weakness will doom us all!" She grunted, fighting against the waves to earn her place.

 

[Ramjammer]

Master craftsman of sandcastles he may have been, Jox wasn't a fan of the ocean at all. It was everywhere for no reason. And despite being nothing but water, it was undrinkable. There was no telling how many people had been lost in it. Killed by the waves or whatever lived beneath them. Everything that lived in its depths was an affront to the Gods, nature, and his sensibilities. And Jox was an expert on what offended the Gods, being a giant rat and all. Worst among all of those things, the ocean, in complete disregard for everyone else, wasn't content to stay where it was and would sometimes come onto dry land and ruin everyone's day. The ocean was, simply put, an asshole.

With all this in mind, it came as no shock at all to the Astrian that the Ocean was trying very hard to kill him alongside everyone else on the boat.

He struggled mightily with his oar as he fought alongside the other Oathsworn to keep their vessel on course. Now Jox was a big and strong rat. He'd eaten his vegetables growing up just as his mama always told him to. But the Astrian didn't think there were enough vegetables in the world he could have eaten to combat the maelstrom they'd been caught in.

The sky had long been an ally of the sea. And so when the winds rose, so too did the waves. Did the beasts below churn just as violently as the waters they called home? Should their ill-gotten ship capsize, how many rows of teeth would await them all in the dark waters? Jox did not think that even his jaws could match them all. And it was a known fact that anything that a rat couldn't chew their way out of had effectively trapped them. A truly sobering thought.

Yet, it was one that the Rostakor would not allow himself to fall victim to just yet. He could still row, and their vessel could still fight the storm. The rat man lashed his tail and wound it tightly around the nearest wooden leg of the bench he sat on. He would not allow himself to be thrown off, and he would not be made into a meal for an ugly fish. The Astrian would survive, and provided Sigrid did too, he was probably going to bite her. Surely the Raven Child should have known how unfriendly the ocean was to rats, and well.....everything else.

Jox growled low in his throat and tightened his clawed grip on the oar. The push and pull of the waves left his muscles screaming in fatigue. But to relent was to accept death for not only himself, but all of them. Either none of them perished, or all of them did. It was the way things were for a rat.

Over the roar of the wind and waves, the Fox had shouted. Shocking as she'd been quiet in the way that all predators were when killing. She had spoken little when helping to build a sandcastle either, and the Astrian assumed she was the quiet type. Apparently not if a hurricane couldn't silence her. While her words may have lit a fire under the rest of their companions, Jox was not moved so easily.

"I've never paid taxes a day in my life." He muttered dourly.

And Gods willing, he never would. And if anyone ever attempted to collect taxes from the rat man, he would bite them. Jox was not giving away his hard earned money so that a stranger's idiot child could learn how to read.

"I wonder if I may survive this journey. If only so that the Gods may continue to laugh at my misfortune." the Astrian groused to no one in particular as the boat rocked again, dousing them in seawater. If Jox had at all been amusing to the Gods, it seemed that he wasn't much interesting anymore. The titanic wave bearing down onto the ship was very much the kind that would kill everyone, and it was probably his fault for not being funny enough.

"Ah. Either the Gods are pettier than I'd thought, or their humor is of the grim kind today." Jox sighed.

The peril that they were all in was immense. Yet the Raven Child seemed positive that they would prevail. Jox wondered briefly if he would have enough time to bite her before he drowned. He'd have to be quick about it....

A brief flash in the deluge that was not borne of the sky called to him suddenly. It was a warm glow, and the Astrian knew it was the kind only produced by a Krozat. He'd basked in the same such light for his entire life. It hung there in the rain, the brightest spot in the dark, and arced itself skyward, bound for the hungry maw of the encroaching wave. The light was a guide, a beacon. It lived to bear them through the storm and would die to ensure their survival. Jox reached a clawed hand towards his chest and grasped a small stone figure bound to a leather cord. For the first time since the sky had darkened overhead, the rat man allowed himself to smile.

The Elder Flame 'twas but a flicker then. An ember. A sole spark burning in the vast dark that came before all things. Infinitesimal though it was, that first of all embers that came after beat back the darkness. One light forced the infinite shadow to kneel. We are all that flicker, that ember, that spark. Insignificant and cast out into the great darkness. Small, yet we shine unbound, even by infinity. -The Tome of Keepers.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sigrid Ravenchild
The Coast, Unknown Island
Worthlessplebian Soviet Panda shadowz1995 Huntertabbysandshark3 Zombehs Firelie AriAriAbabwa Nessi Sacrosanctis Arnalia Remembrance FiveElemental mewmilk Ramjammer ​

The sea roared and tossed against the humble vessel's hull, battering its integrity as much as it did a number on the Tutan's appetite to contest Mitr's wrathful amercement. Kaija's odd remarks stirred something in the men, catching them off-guard to the point of abandoning their fatigue to cling onto the Fox's peculiar attempt to motivate them. Alas, they matched their rhythm with that of the Raven's own pounding heart. The red-haired Tutan was excited, for she shared the same vigor as her followers, but not for the same reason. Instead, she was caught in a trance of thrill that only enabled her own hubris for defying the Ancient's omens of the seas. The sweet melody of seafaring sailors and warriors huffing and puffing to tear apart the textures of the eternal blue gave Sigrid all the more reason to unleash her excitement for their great battle against the sea.

A reticent whistle, barely making its distinctive noise as it left the Wolf's steady hands, was eventually drowned out by the thunderous tides. The vessel rose and declined, as the Raven patiently cast her gaze upon the rising wave before them. A wicked grin then stretched across her salty countenance, unveiling the magnificent courtesy of her perfect lips - knowing that their defiant ways have reward them well. The departed arrow then detonated, forming an excellent flame that remained steadfast amidst the unrelenting storm. It became the beacon of hope for the sailors, as they continued to row with vigor, while the helmsman steered hard towards the crimson icon of fiery illumination. Sigrid then patted Arni's shoulder as she made her way pass him. "The eye of the storm is no match for the Wolf's gaze!" She proclaimed, turning towards the rest of her crew. "Pray later, row!" She said while securing their knotted ropes.

Among the few that made a name for themselves before joining her cause, the Lesni and the Astrian have proved themselves capable of the simplest of tasks. A necessary set of hands when they were not busy building sandcastles in their spare time. Though it seemed that sand had become a commodity most wanted after many weeks in the embrace of the sea. Their steep ascension came to pass, as Sigrid counted every second that might break their weathered vessel. Hargrimm had gone

"Brace yourselves!" Sigrid yelled, prompting the Stonewall to hunker down, as he pulled Hakan into the tents with his other hand firmly fastened against the ropes. He uttered a low grunt, just as the waters washed over the vessel. The ship brushed forth, rising and rising until they were within the terrifyingly awe-inspiring sight of the great height below them. As the sea finally swallowed the rune's glow, the vessel had achieved the peak of the colossal wave that delivered Sigrid and her Oathsworn unto Mitr's own hands. But as they soar too great a distance towards the heavens, the gods saw it fit to punish their audacious feat. The dragon's head abruptly sunk, plunging the vessel into the abyss that awaited them. The loud roars of the vast azure lane and Mitr's drums would eventually cease, as the poor Tutan souls that dared to defy their Makers would find themselves within the cold embrace of the eternal blue.

A reticent noise stirred the Raven's deep slumber, of whom was convinced that they had been swallowed by the waves. Alas, when they could feel their chest tightening and smell the sweet taste of sands, the Raven knew that she was denied of her entry to Solsgard once again. Crimson gems sparkled as they unveiled themselves from their shrouded lids, inviting the light that was once absent in their hour of supposed darkness. Mustering her strength, Sigrid pulled herself from the sandy shore, as she readjusted her sights to the shimmering lights of the eerily calming horizon. The wending water was warm, far too warm for any Tutan's comfort. In fact, it felt irritating to the woman as she tried to find her bearing. It was then, she found a familiar soul, whose armor had been shredded to only padded cloth and leather, of whom was dragging a few souls ashore. As she finally regained her focus, Sigrid made clear of the vague personnel before trying to get up on her feet, of which were too numb to stir forth. Their ship was nowhere to be found, while the lifeless corpses and floating supplies made clear of their current disposition. This was their punishment.

The Raven was unconcerned with such things, for she understood her immediate role upon awakening from her slumber. In fact, she was grateful for the gods to grant her another day to seek her prize. Alas, all seemed so far away as she found herself on an island where neither flora nor fauna resided. Miles of sands and jagged rocks stretched out in all directions, with the main destination being the confines of the rugged hills, almost engulfed by the encroaching sea - almost. Eventually, the Stonewall would pay heed to the survivors that he dragged ashore, with the red-haired warrior among them. Down to merely the outspoken warriors under her charge, the Oathsworns have bled more than they could have for the sea.

Her dry lips could not form any words, while she has yet to conform herself to the traditions of this lifeless island. Instead, she would give Hargrimm a fatigued smile, only to be greeted by their familiar but clearly annoyed grunt as the Stonewall casually toss aside one the deceasee crew.

For now, the Raven would have to find out where they have landed, a term she much preferred over being called stranded. Inevitably, she would have to conjure for herself a statement to address and rally her crew - what was left of them anyway.

 

[shadowz1995]

Hakan Ingolf
Unknown
Interactions: Pilgrim59 @ Anyone who is around


Coughing and hacking up sea water was how Hakan Ingolf was reintroduced into the land of the living. Emphasis on land as they had washed up.... somewhere.

Most people in the given situation would be incredibly disoriented and confused. The storm, loss of consciousness, and waking up somewhere completely unfamiliar would leave even the most stalwart of men dazed and confused. This went double for the blind.

After expunging the salty liquid from his throat, Hakan struggled to get his bearings. The Blind man couldn't tell which way was up or down and his sense of smell was completely shot. All he could smell was sea water. His ears were ringing and his sense of balance was gone. All he could feel was the sand between his fingers as he tried to push himself up. Everytime he lifted a hand to crawl forward, he would be suddenly assaulted by the sensations of his face grinding into the wet sediment beneath him.

Eventually, he just gave up trying to move and just laid still, waiting for his proverbial world to stop spinning around, so he could orient himself. However, in his attempts to crawl forward, his hand gripped a solid hunk of wood and metal. The familiar runic carvings and nicks in the wood revealed that this was his staff.

Hakan found instant relief in this. His long time companion had not been swept away by the waves and his satchel and potions were still on him, secure and water tight. The thought came up several times to drink his own tonics to recover but if the Blind Sage had survived this toil, chances are that his stronger teammates probably did too. They may need his help.

This thought helped ground the runic mage and with enough time, he was able to get his feet under him. With the assistance of his old wooden companion, Hakan began to roam the beach in search of the living.

Alas, his search turned out to be disheartening to say the least. He touched body after body and each one he found as lifeless as the one before. Three of them included the men he saved just before they set sail. His brow furrowed in anger at this realization for a moment before shaking it off and continuing to search for the living. Whatever boxes of supplies or weapons he came across, he compiled into a self designated area a bit further inland. In the dry, hot sand closer to the treeline.

Hakan didn't really have the strength or orientation to yell out for survivors, as it took everything he had at this moment just to move the supplies and bodies away from the waves. A meaningless task perhaps but someone would find him... hopefully friendly.

​

 

[Zombehs]

Aglain Ervak​

Mystery Island
Anybody.
​

Aglain's awakening was far from dignified. Violent coughing spewed forth swallowed seawater before he rolled himself over and vomited up the remains of his last meal. The nauseating wretches drowning out all other sounds and leaving him unaware of the world around him as his entire body shook from the consequences of a near death experience.

As the worst of it finally started to pass, Aglain took a few more moments to recover. Spitting the acrid taste and sensation from his mouth, he blindly patted from the waterskin he kept on his belt. Thankfully it still clung to his person, the leather band having survived the furious forces that had scattered their boat and crew. With a grunt, he rolled himself back over onto his back so he could fiddle with the knot with both hands. Even with a rather gentle warmth in the air, his fingers were far clumsier in his disoriented state and it took a few attempts before he could finally raise the waterskin to his lips. A quick swig cleared his mouth of the nastiness that lingered before he slowly dripped the water onto his face to wash away the dried salt and sand.

Only then did Aglain slowly crack open his eyes and nudge himself into a more seated position so he could take in his surroundings. Bodies and belongings littered the shoreline, but he could see that others had survived the ordeal and awoken before him. The Stonewall was as easy to notice as ever, and the same could be said about Sigrid's distinctive red hair. Even the blind sage busied himself with the retrieval of whatever could be saved before the lapping waves claimed them for the sea. Uninspired despite the other man's drive, Aglain rummaged around his soaked clothes before he grasped the rusted brown orb and slowly crushed it in his grip. It took a few moments for him to call upon the aetherium within the concentrated blood, but as the syrupy red fluid slowly flowed in through the countless scraps and cuts he now sported, Aglain felt his aches diminish a bit and his mind sharpen.

By some miracle, his spear had also survived the ordeal and ended up on shore next to him. As he stood and leaned somewhat into it as an aid, Aglain finally noticed that his bow was no longer on his person nor anywhere in sight. He supposed it was a minor annoyance when everything was considered, but it still elicited a grumble from him as he trudged down towards the waterline. He would have liked to sit down for longer and rummage through the packs for anything that hadn't been soiled by the seawater, but the motley band of misfits had to come first. Every last person mattered when they were stranded in who knew where.

The gentle lapping of the waves rushing onto the sand was a far cry from the storm that had wrecked their ship. It was practically peaceful and ill suited to the grisly work that had to be done by those surviving. With a deep breath that made his lungs ache a bit, Aglain let loose with a loud yell to see if he couldn't rouse some of those who had yet to expire.

"WAKE UP!"​

​

​

 

[Soviet Panda]

Otrygg Isernvargr
The Storm​

Otrygg had gotten better as the weeks went on. When he was first dragged back to the ship, he was a shivering mess haunted by night terrors. The first week had seen his nerves calm and the night terrors leave him, the demons that haunted his psyche sinking into the waves. And on the second week he was able to be more than a dead weight on the vessel. His back strained as he heaved on the paddle, the wood creaking in protest as it strained to move through the water as quickly as Otrygg wanted it to. It was not the first oar that had cracked and splintered in this storm, each bench having a single spare next to it. And from the quick glances he spared himself towards the center, there were a sparse few oars left.

"ROW!" He bellowed to the others, his mighty voice carrying over the tumult of the storm. It was he that set the pace, for in his years of coastal raiding, he has picked up a few things of the craft. And they could not simply sit in place and let the storm do with them what it will. It was not the Tutan way. Whether it be a mortal foe or Fate itself, Tutans did not simply lie down and wait for the end to come. However, he certainly wished he was facing the front of the ship when the wave hit him from behind, and knocked him unconcious.

The Shore
shadowz1995 and others​

Otrygg was awoken by a stick being jammed into his side. Acting more on instinct than any conscious thought, he hand lashed out and grabbed the leg of whoever's stick had just hit him. His eyes snapping open, before he could scream, sea water bubbled up from his mouth. His body suddenly registered the water in it's lungs and filling it's stomach and rebelled against him. Salt water spewed from the old raider as he alternated between retching and coughing. He was aware enough to feel the reassuring weights of his two weapons, but otherwise his current life was miserable.

All the while, his grip held on the man's leg. After a minute or two of emptying himself, he was able to gather his wits and look up at the person who he was holding on to.

"Ah," Otrygg began before being interrupted by a cough that wracked his entire body. Clearing his throat, he tries again. "Hakan." That was all he managed to get out before dry heaving, his stomach refusing to believe it had been completely emptied.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Sigrid Ravenchild
Inland, Unknown Island
Soviet Panda
​

A faint glow, distinguished by its indecipherable engravings, caressed the rough crevice of a split stone. Protruding from its rocky roots was a dark handle that completed its magnificent shape. Getting up from her spot, the Raven made her way towards the lonely piece that had wandered far from her inventory. She eyed the curved fang intently, as if deciphering its remarkable purpose of residing far from her side. Rather, she already understood that despite the lost of their vessel, the axe remained as a statement of the gods. Her work was not yet done, so long as Aedayn's lost tooth continued to linger by her side. The instrument that haunted her grips for as long as she was destined to take the lives of men and beasts. While Mitr could have stripped them of their armaments, the presence of Valengar showed their grace for it would be dishonorable for a warrior to perish without their weapons beside them. Alas, neither Solsgard's light nor Aedayn's voice could dissuade the Raven from their arduous endeavors. For so long as she could find a tool of war beside her, Sigrid knew that her time on earth was far from done.

Plucking the axe from the ground, the rock finally split, effectively ending its dormant state as it returned to its master's grasps once more. Sheathing it by her belt alongside her prized dagger, Sigrid made her way towards the scattered trees, in hopes of getting her bearing. Before long, she would cast her crimson gaze upon a dark creature, whose iconic feathers would shed the horizon, warning Sigrid of her disposition. Further inland behind the raven was a malevolent energy that robbed Sigrid of her breath, as she stood dumbfounded by its intimidating but mundane sight. Between her and the heavily wooded area of the island was a wide stretch of dark sand that seemed neither imposing of an igneous stage nor that of the land's natural bearing. Rather, the corrupted ground was a foreboding message to those that was unfortunate enough to land here. The eerie silence of the deep woods beyond the horizon troubled the Raven, as she felt herself being watched, despite no perceivable contact being made between her and her assailant. She pondered upon the possibility of the Elvar's blood taking hold of her senses, but was not willing to forsake its purpose. A curse to the redhead warrior, while a blessing to many. She felt it deep in her bones, despite the lack of immediate dangers that presented itself.

After a brief moment of silence, Sigrid was snapped back to reality, as she followed the creaking of drifting woods and the silhouettes of her fellow Tutans back towards the coast. With the Black Bird melted into the figment of her speculative vision, Sigrid abandoned her ominous avian to return to her companions. As she left, a faint glow would shine brightly, making its presence known to the eyes unaware. Reticent clicking marked its muffled steps, as it ventured deeper into the deep woods, corrupting everything it touched with a putrid liquid that lingered upon the shrubs. Clicking and cracking its sinister ligaments, its milky white essence dripped as it went about its way.

Hargrimm Stonewall
Inland, Unknown Island
shadowz1995 Soviet Panda ​

Hargrimm, having dragged the scattered corpses of several sailors across the sand for a while, finally gave in to his weary arms as he cast his gaze upon two particular devices from among the severed supplies that littered the beach. The sunstone and a lodestar apparatus that have been guiding them westward since their departure from Tuta. As they find themselves on a strange island, it was best for the Stonewall to safekeep the items until they find another vessel to traverse upon the waves again. Securing the items, the Stonewall then began to make his way over to Aglain firstly, dropping a bag of tools by the Astrian's side as he pointed towards the tree line to nonverbally tell his companion to start a campfire. While it seemed the proper procedure to follow anytime they landed, the campfire would also help to serve as a rallying point for those that were scattered elsewhere. He would then take on Aglain's detail of waking up the survivors. Ferrying the lightest ones first, Hargrimm gradually carried them towards the greens. One at a time, he made sure level them properly as to avoid a rebuke from Hakan, of whom would surely act upon his words should the Stonewall treated his companions like potato sacks. Among the heavier ones, Hargrimm would drag them roughly, saving his strength instead for a fight that he expected. He was in his right mind to do so, as he often finds himself thrown into a battle anytime the red Raven was around. He did not mind the fight, but detested Sigrid's profound ability to attract foreign aggressions. To him, the woman was a centrifugal force of belligerence, whether she wanted to or not. It has always been the way and it would remain as such for a long time to come.

Having settled his comrades down by a tree, the Stonewall turned inland, before finding Hakan in his lonesome state. Dragging himself across the sandy area, Hargrimm let out a heavy grunt to catch Hakan's attention. His heavy hand found the sage's shoulders, as he scanned the man for signs of injuries before relieving himself of a reassured sigh. Hargrimm then eyed the ulfsark that was holding onto Hakan, before making sense of their face. A light nod followed, as Hargrimm picked up on his detail of scavenging what was laying around. What troubled the warrior the most was the absence of critters and animals, despite the island's serene state - untouched by the wickedness of mankind. The Stonewall then scanned the horizon briefly to make sure that his senses were still intact. He was sure that he himself was still doomed to walk this earth unfavored by Aedayn. So much so that being on constant alert was his way of coping with the mundane aspects of life. Alas, that very habit had kept him alive for as long as he could remember. Before long, he would spot the red Raven making her way down towards them from beyond the grassy mound.