Fantasy Starlight Caravan (open, apply in the recruitment thread)

[Owl Knight]

- STARLIGHT CARAVAN -
THE NEW HOMELAND
​

CHARACTERS

Spoiler: Aden and Demri Stonewood

Played by Owl Knight

Name: Aden Stonewood

Age: 32

Clan: Carda

Height: 4' 8"

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye color: Blue

Brief Bio: Aden was the son of a clan Carda elk herder who died defending the plains from the armies of the sorcerer. Arden was only 12 at the time and he and his mother and infant sister escaped with a caravan of refugees. A few years later, his mother and sister both died of red fever in an ill kept Elven district of the human city of Tarth, leaving Aden alone before his twentieth birthday. He left Tarth and made his living in the counrtyside as a trapper and hide trader, although many human merchants accused him of theft or other underhanded dealings. Before long he began to ply his trade as a guide for Elven wagon families as they made their way from settlement to settlement. It was during one of these trips that he met and fell in love with Demri, a healer and midwife from clan Nymren. After their wedding ceremony, the pair decided they would brave the road north to the new homeland. Although he had no desire to be a leader on the expedition, Aden was quickly elected to captain the caravan due to his experience with trailfinding.

Skills: Trapping, skinning, woodcraft and trail finding, he has moderate skill with a bow at short distances, and he has some combat skill with a knife.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Name: Demri Stonewood

Age: 28

Clan: Carda (formerly of Nymren)

Height 4' 3"

Hair Color: Auburn

Eye color: Green

Brief Bio: Demri was sent away from the riverlands with her grandmother, a herbalist and midwife in their village when her parents learned that the sorcerers armies were moving towards them from the south. She was very young and in the years that followed, she found she remembered little of her time in the riverlands. In the human kingdoms, her grandmother joined with a traveling family of wagon Elves and served as a resident healer and midwife, training Demri in the old ways. Demri took to the work naturally and bore more and more of the responsibility as her grandmother's fingers lost their skill. The first time she delivered a baby for an Elven mother in the back of a wagon, she was only fifteen years old. After her grandmother passed, Demri moved from wagon village to wagon village, serving her fellow elves where she could and even providing service to some open minded humans. She met Aden when the two of them were traveling with the same wagon train and they were married before that fall.

Skills: Herbalism and a faint touch of healing magic, midwifery.

Spoiler: Rowan Redroach and Maria Magpie

Played by Ace Cream

Name: Rowan Redroach

Age: 19

Clan: Elweth

Height: 4'6

Hair Color: brown

Eye color: brown

Brief Bio: Grow in the harsh environment of the Eastern Desert, Rowan's childhood was spent running from oasis to oasis. The wagonless family was very poor and they live by stealingscavenging anything they can get their hands into. Fortunately they were a small group so they don't need much to survive.

Things change when they won a clash against another nomad elven family. Instead of killing or shooing them away like usual the chief of their family offered the defeated side to join them instead. Their number started to grow and with that, so was their needs. stealingscavenging wasn't enough anymore so they started raiding the villages they passed by while slowly made their way west to look for greener land.

Rowan always asked himself when was things go wrong. Before the merge they might be dirt poor, but they were certainly better than a group of power-hungry animals they had become. He deserted during a raid to a village and helped them defend from the attack. The damage done to the village was numerous, the Nightshade would surely put a bounty on his head and now he has a tagalong in the form of an elf kid.

Skills: running, dagger play, escaping, stealth, retreating, acrobatic, withdrawing.

___________________________________________________________

Name: Maria Magpie

Age: 12

Clan: Adari

Height: 3'3

Hair Color: black with occasional streaks of white hair.

Eye color: black.

Brief Bio: A pregnant elf was found dead on the outskirt of a human village. The villagers were about to cremate the corpse when a miracle happened, the baby inside the belly was alive and crying. No one wants to take the baby, but no one have the heart to abandon the baby either so the local church took her in.

Despite all the prejudice she was growing with, Maria managed to keep her smile and gradually the villagers warmed up to her. She was accepted as part of the village and she should be able to live peacefully there. However, since the villagers were used to Maria's presence they didn't suspect a thing when a bunch of elven refugees come to the village. Unknown to them these self-proclained refugees were actually scouts sent by a group of elven bandits called Nightshade.

The group launched a surprise attack at the village, causing a considerable damage to structure, economy, and their trust toward elfs. Fearing the what would happen to Maria, the head priest decided to send her away for a 'missionary task', which Maria understood as a soft way to ask her to leave the village.

Skills: divination magic, light magic, blessing(??? It doesn't work on non-believer)

Spoiler: Cydonis

Played by @ cybercrypt

Name: Cydonis
Age: 149
Clan: Carda
Height: 5"2'
Hair Color: Fair-haired, locked in ornamental braids that drape his shoulders.
Usually worn into a headscarf under his knight's helm.
Eye color: Sky blue

Brief Bio: Before the holocaust, Cydonis was an acclaimed mercenary hailing from the Clan Carda. He spent his youth herding cattle before his restless nature eventually led him to the life of the sword. He joined the King's Army and trained relentlessly, fought countless skirmishes, and marched into great battles alongside King Dondar's father. Cydonis was promoted to the rank of Captain in his twenties, earning his place in clan nobility and becoming an advisor on their war councils. He served his clan faithfully until he was called up (into the King's Own Guard) to fend his homeland against the minion raiders, commanded by their dark sorcerer. Cydonis was ultimately trapped within a deep labyrinth, entombed for days when his company was ambushed on the outskirts of a local town they were sent to garrison. A powerful entity lingered the decrepit halls and Cydonis almost met his fate when battling it for nine grisly hours, affording his men a chance to escape. It was the most visceral moment of his life. He eventually led his men out and laid siege to reclaim the town, but it was too late and his forces were utterly crushed in the ensuing battle. Cydonis rode hard to the Elven capital and was present when King Dondar was slain. The King's Own Guard disbanded shortly thereafter, a failed guerilla campaign, and soon fled the fallen kingdom to escape execution.
He retired his blade, working as a carpenter in the human cities for twenty years, and living a quiet life. Occasionally, he'd offer his sword to slay monsters for the city guilds and earned some renown for these exploits. One day, a blue-eyed pathfinder named Aden Stonewood recruited him into the caravan.

Skills:
Power strike - an extremely proficient martial artist and of brute strength, Cydonis is notably bulkier (and taller) than his Elven brethren.
Weapon master - trained years with swords and spears. He's equipped with a long, two-handed greatsword made of Dwarven steel.
Dexterous and Agile - Cydonis is lightly armoured, wearing only a knight's helm (or headscarf), shawl, kilt, and caestus (a leather-padded glove with iron studs).

Spoiler: Juriell Gilfoud

Played by EccentricFantasy


Name:
Juriell Gilfoud

Age:
45

Clan:
Lothan

Height:
5'5"

Hair Color:
Dark Brown, Almost Black

Eye color:
Deep Grey

Appearance:

Spoiler: Juriell Gilfoud

Brief Bio:
While he was old enough to remember the great burining of his homeland Juriell cares little about that. Yes it affected his life. As does the humans inherited distrust of Elves as a whole. That being said, he prefers to focus on the positive things that have come from his life.

One such event was the discovery of the Notchish way. This is his chosen religion of sorts. Or the most impactful hunt of his life, which gave him his pack of Field Raptor companions. These are things that helped define him as a person and helped shape him into the man he wanted to be. Racism and prejudice, even a mass hunting of his kind are only as big as we choose to make them. Juriell chooses to make them not as devastating as it could be. That is why his life is so peaceful.

Yes, in that moment when his home was burned, children orphaned and lives destroyed, he was angry. That being said, he made the choice to not let the anger consume him. Rather, he made the choice to live for what made him happy.

Skills:
Expert Marksman, General Woodworking skills used to craft arrows, master hunter, trapping, animal field stripping.

Way of Notchism:

Spoiler: Notchish Way

The Notchism religion is a religion only practiced by a select few of the Lothan Clan. They believe that it only takes one arrow, or lack there of, to change a fight or the world as it is known. As such they practice a form of archery that looks to end a hunt or fight with one decisive arrow. Even among the marksman of the Lothan clan, those who practice Notchism are considered to be the best of any archers. Able to pin a fly to a tree without killing it from 50 yards out. Or so the legend says.

The followers of this belief system are so devoted to the craft that they created the Yggmoth bow (his custom Yggmoth is seen in his picture). These bows are significantly larger than normal bows. This is because they were made for accuracy and range. Exchanging rapid firing ability for pure ability to hit their exact target with little to no error. The practice and art of using these bows are so well hidden that not even other Lothan clansmen know how to wield them properly.

Field Raptor Pack:

Spoiler: Juriel's Pack

Back when he was younger Juriell joined a hunting party. Their objective was to hunt a pack of Field Raptors that had gotten too close to the elven lands. Field Raptors were some of the most successful hunters in the world. Using tactics, superior intelligence and numbers to take on prey much larger than themselves.

The hunt was successful. No injuries, no death and all of the targets were taken out. However, while collecting the bodies for food and other things, Juriell stumbled upon the nests and five eggs of the pack. He knew that they would not survive on their own. The other hunters wished to take them as another meal, but Juriell refused. Something in his heart told him to save them. So he did.

Bringing them home, he spent 5 months caring to them. Providing heat and safety as they grew. Once they all hatched he had no further issues. Since they had pack mentality, they recognized him as the leader. He fed them, gave all of them names and trained them. They were much like dogs. They followed orders and looked at elves as friends, but on Juriell's orders, they were an efficient team of hunting animals. They became famous in the Lothan clan. Everyone lnew them all by name.

There are five Field Raptors to this pack. Gruul, the largest male standing at just 4'9". Next was Silica, the head female of the pack. Then there was Yammick, the best tracker. Horiz is the fastest of the group. Finally, the runt of the litter, Fiila. She was only 3'3", but she was undoubtedly the bravest of the group.

Spoiler: Beala

Played by @Whitewolf453

Name: Beala (bell-ee-a)

Age: 15

Clan: Lothan

Height: 3'8

Hair Color: Rust

Eye color: Pale green

Brief Bio: She was born and raised in a human village living as a servent her mother was killed by her master at a very young age. She is traveling with no family or friends hoping to make a few friends along the way or even a family-like figure. She never met her father seeing as he had run off 1 year after she was born. She has hatted her master since day one and often would sneak into his room and swipe something to sell for a few coins. She also owns a necklace from her mother and wears it all day every day.

Skills: Fast. kind, wood-crafting/blacksmithing, and is vary stealthy (would be good as a lookout)

look:

Spoiler: Corvinus d'al Vavyndiil

Played by Jabroni

Name: Corvinus d'al Vavyndiil

Age: 112

Clan: Elweth

Height: 4'10"

Hair Color: Straw

Eye color: Blue

Brief Bio:

Do you have any idea how much it costs to import Lothan grey wood? Hmm? Do you? Allow me to illuminate. Ninety-eight percent. That is how much the market shrunk since the entire forest turned into a scorched raisin! And guess who owned a portion of that ninety-eight percent? Correct! Now you might have the slightest understanding as regards my predicament. I have sacrificed all but the most prized antiquities, such as mother's porcelain, because how could I part with that? I have even been required to secure lodging in town houses. Town houses! Can you believe such a thing? To think that one of the White Mountain's proudest should find himself neighbored by round ears repulses me to this very day! But I digress...

It takes great fortitude to overcome such obstacles. Have I done some things I'm not particularly proud of? Naturally. Am I apologetic for carrying out said deeds? Absolutely not. It is a matter of survival, dear fellow. If we are to talk of malice, then might I point you in the direction of the round ears, or better yet the sorcerer himself! Speaking of which, a whisper on the wind tells me he missed a spot. That mayhaps a certain individual still presides among the living... that certain individual being no other than Prince Andar. If that is the way of it, I should gladly rid myself of these vile creatures and plot a course for home. Well, perhaps not home, but a new government under elven superiority should prove advantageous nonetheless.

Skills: Bartering, Forgery, Speech/Writing (Elweth, Lothan - Fluent; Human Tongues - Passable)

Spoiler: Randuin the Merchant

Played by Matt l ttaM

Name: Randuin the Merchant

Age: 27 Winters passed

Clan: While of Adari blood, Randuin does not hold sway in any of the five clans.

Height: Because of his hybrid heritage, Randuin has taken to his father's size. 5' 11"

Hair Color: Raven Black

Eye color: Green eyes

Spoiler: Fletcher and Sybil

Played by EndEffector

Name: Fletcher

Age: 140

Clan: Lothan

Height: 4'6"

Hair Color: Brown

Eye color: Brown

Brief Bio:

Fletcher's mother died when he was young and he was raised by his father. Fletcher's father was kind and gentle, and well-respected by those who knew him. He always had time for others, and he was often consulted because he was calm and fair. He was a skilled hunter but had great a respect -- almost a reverence -- for the creatures of the Grey Wood. He was believed to be a part of a mythic group that were called the Felkin. The Felkin held the belief that all life was sacred and

As a boy, he was Fletcher's hero.

Fletcher and his father lived modestly, but this father had a great love of learning and spent his nights reading books in the dim light of their small home. To most of their neighbors, this seemed odd, but it was largely overlooked as harmless. It was a habit that Fletcher learned, and he can often be found reading a well-worn book at the end of the day.

Fletcher's father was killed when the Sorcerer attacked the Grey Woods.

Fletcher is softly spoken and serious. He blames much of the tragedy of the Grey Woods upon foolish clan politics, which he believes resulted in the needless deaths of many. He thinks that Elves should work together to build a new home and forget the divisions of their past. There is enough hardship trying to make a home in the human lands without fighting among themselves.

While Fletcher is no Adari, he is very proud in his own quiet way. He is unbowed.

Fletcher is married to Sybil. Although marriage between clans is uncommon and considered improper, it is especially rare between the Lothan and Adari. But the world of the Elves has changed and there is none they can turn to now but one another.

Skills: Tracking. Hunting. Tanning. Story telling.


Name: Sybil

Age: 120

Clan: Adari

Height: 4'2"

Hair Color: Black

Eye color: Blue

Brief Bio:

Sybil does not share her background with others, although it is clear from her speech and manner that she came from some kind of noble family. Her movements are elegant and refined, but not weak. But, there is a steeliness to Sybil that hints at a hard life that has tried and failed to break her. She is proud and quick to anger, even by the standards of the Adari.

She is married to Fletcher, although their marriage is an odd one. There is clearly a great deal of tenderness between them, but there is also an unusual level of formality. Fletcher is devoted to both Sybil and their daughter, Embari (3 yo), who Sybil is fiercely protective of, and works tirelessly to bring what small comfort he can to their harsh life.

When talking with others, Sybil is frequently curt, in the way of the Adari. However, she is much gentler with Fletcher. He has a softening effect upon her.


Skills: Medicine. Divination. Knife-fighting.

 

[Owl Knight]

Aden Stonewood~

Fire, fire, the plains are burning.

Amid the flames he hears the screams, men, women, children, falling under blade and flame and the tall dark shapes of the attackers move doggedly forward, creatures twisted and foul with dead lights for eyes, driven by a hunger for blood and conquest.

His mother grips his hand, pulls him up the hill. The baby is crying. All around others jostle and shove to make their escape.

His father is back there, back in the flames.

Aden thinks he can hear his screams.
-

Aden awoke and lay staring at the elkhide canopy of the wagon. His bare chest was damp and cold with sweat and his breath sounded heavy and labored in the close air of the tent. Demri lay beside him, still asleep, a curling tendril of auburn hair falling across her cheek. They were naked, wrapped in a spun wool blanket beneath a heavy elkhide.

Her slow and steady breathing stilled his racing heart.

A dream. It was just a dream.

He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around her in the fading twilight that filtered through the woven rug they had hung across the rear opening of their cart against the early spring chill. She stirred lightly, nestling against his chest.

"You were talking in your sleep," she mumbled, her eyes still closed. "Were you dreaming?" Aden did not reply. He pulled her close, feeling every inch of her and hoping against hope for the memory of that fire to fade. It would, he knew, in time.
Outside the first rays of sunlight stretched their warm fingers over the Lithuan River, across the glade, sheltered on one end by a stretching finger of the Elbren Forest. Across the glade, early risers poked their heads from their wagons or out of their low tents where they had bedded down in the grass. Stout plains Elk raised their heads from their morning grazing to meet the coming dawn.

Aden rose quietly and began dressing in the tight quarters of the wagon. Demri had washed his trousers and tunic in the river the afternoon before and they felt crisp and fresh. She rose sleepily to watch him, holding the elkhide over her bare body and brushing auburn locks from her eyes.

"Are you ready?" she asked softly. Aden managed a wry smile as he belted his tunic. He glanced back at her, drinking in her pale neck and delicate shoulders, the eyes that had captured him on the road from Tarth to Dunholm. Should he live to two hundred and fifty he would still never understand what he had done to be so lucky.

"I'm not," he replied. "But I don't know that that matters much." He knelt down and kissed her, letting his lips linger on hers for just a moment. If he could just stay in this place an hour longer, he would be satisfied, but a duty had been placed before him and that duty called.

He tied his hair back with a thin leather thong and pushed past the hanging rug and into the crisp light of the morning.

 

[Ace Cream]

Rowan/Maria

"Tofu again, you really like it, huh." Two hooded figures were having breakfast at the outskirt of Dunholm. The taller one was biting into a rye bread ravenously while the smaller one seems focused on a prayer. The taller one extended his hand to silently take the tofu but the small one slapped his hand away.

"Don't be greedy, Rowan. You shouldn't overindulgence on food."

"We only have breadand tofu for three days, Maria. It's called hungry, not greedy."

The two ate their small-portion meal in silence. They had been traveling together for almost two months and make a living as street performancer. The lacks of money they can endure but the lacks of purpose and home had been bothering them more and more.

"Hey, Maria. How about we join an elven caravan?" Maria choked on her tofu. Rowan couldn't wait anymore, they had skipped two caravans before because Maria had been overly wary of elves. While her fear of her own kin was kind of understandable, she wouldn't be able to stay like this forever. They won't be able to live a normal live among the human and they wouldn't survive long it they try to live in the wilderness by themself.

"C-caravan? I don't see what s-so great about them. We can stay in Dunholm for a few more days so let's decide by then. It's not like there's any nearby." Maria was obviously hesitant to join one but Rowan pressed further.

"That's why today we're not going to do any work. I know a good place where we can gather some information. Let's go!"

 

[cybercrypt]

Cydonis was perched on a cut tree stump by the river's embankment, busy refining the sharpness of his blade with a dripping whetstone and quietly relishing in the crisp, morning breeze. Around him were pearly, sparkling orbs of glinting dew, duly saturated by the cascading strokes of amber pride as the morning rays staggered through the skeletal branches of the Elbren forest, and laid itself plush on a misty, verdure blanket. Cydonis was reminded of his life on the Cardanian plains and how the land glistened each morning before its fog would mingle with a faint horizon, then retreat into evanescence. He felt the crisp breeze tackle his cheeks as it flowed over the humming river. His low tent was burrowed within the capacious, overgrown bushes, and his equipment (bundled via string) stashed neatly inside the rugged vegetation. It seemed that no one was here, except this notion was betrayed by the domineering, purebred Cardanian stallion that nickered close by. It shook its proud mane then vacantly pawed the dirt with its hoof, her reigns gently rattling into the brisk air. Cydonis had nurtured Gore since she was a foal, winning her in a game of cards, then training her to pull carts laden with carpentry tools and equipment. Gore was a beast; her fur stygian and with powerful hooves that heartily beat like war drums. They had forged a close relationship over the past fifteen years he's had her.

Cydonis packed up his equipment and saddled it onto Gore after dunking himself in the river, washing away the remnant murky slumber that still lingered within his body. He wasn't oblivious to the nearing of his twilight years and would ponder deeply on the foreboding trepidation that accompanied it. But still, a bear of an elf who could slash a man in two. Cydonis hopped onto Gore and drove his boots into the stirrups before welting the reigns and beginning a canter towards the caravan.

Gore's hooves made a thudding resonation as Cydonis approached the main encampment. As he slowed to a meandering trot he spied a refreshed Aden stepping out from his wagon. Cydonis flashed him a wink as he rode by. He lessened Gore's pace and slid off the saddle, then fastening her bridle to the thick branch of some hefty tree. Cydonis would remain here, brushing her down and feeding his mount some freshly plucked apples.

 

[Matt l ttaM]

Sssssk...

Sssssk...

The whetstone drew across the blade softly. It was his morning ritual. The actions were practiced and slow, dragging the smooth stone across the steel blade. The morning was new, the sun hardly above the horizon. It was a cool morning and the coals of an old flame cut the edge. Randuin let out a sigh as he checked the edge of the knife. A mere touch was enough to draw a line of crimson on his thumb. He licked the appendage clean and wiped it off on his pants. He stood with a stretch, sliding his knife into the leather scabbard on his belt. He gave a brief look around his campsite as he stretched out his stiff limbs. There was a bit of clutter and disorganization, but that was fine. Randuin preferred it when there his site was a bit more...homely.

As his horse, Hawk, gave a neigh, he smirked and called over, "I know, my friend, I know. I'll get it done 'fore everyone's up." The horse shook its mane and huffed. Randuin smiled and shook his head, getting to the cleaning his cooking supplies from the night before, "Yes, yes, I'm going, I'm going." The horse seemed to give another huff causing Ran to turn back and eye the four-legged creature, "I heard that! I am by no means lazy. You keep this up and you aren't getting any carrots this morning." With that, Randuin got to work breaking down his camp. The dishes were washed, scrubbed dry, and wiped down before stored. Using water and soap was only a waste, he thought, better to just rub it all down and store it 'fore I reach a proper town to clean 'im right. After that, he pulled out a small trowel, tossing dirt over his once bright firepit. He shoveled for a time, turning the coals over and stifling them into the dirt.

His thoughts turned to other things as his body moved autonomously. His mother...the poor woman...Randuin took a long breath. He would pay for his sins. He swore it to himself all that time ago. As his thoughts moved to the small lockbox he kept hidden on the underside of his cart, he clapped his hands clean of the dirt and grime. His campsite was clean as his thoughts were broken by the sound of one of the carts. His own near the rear of a long line of carriages, he didn't know how worth this expedition would be. A revival of the elven world. Both ridiculous and a source of hope from people across the shattered and burnt lands. He shrugged to himself and pulled up his hood as he saw a prominent figure of the caravan emerge from his own cart. That's Aden..., thought Randuin, remembering the name of the head of the caravan. He finished packing and started taking stock of his supplies slowly.

Stock:
Case of salted meats x2
Case of human grape wine x2
Sacks of badger furs x2
Skins of water x10
Sack of Carrots x2
Jars of Medical Salve
Three finished
Seven proofing

 

[Owl Knight]

Aden stood on the back step of the wagon, squinting against the first rays of sunlight that cascaded down on the river. He stretched and groaned, feeling his spine crackle. No matter how many nights he had spent sleeping in the bed of the wagon, he was sure he would not get used to it. Demri had grown up as a wagoneer, and as far as he could tell, she slept like a baby beside him each night, bundled in blankets and hides against the evening chill.

All around the glade, he saw the gathered wagoneers and other refugees beginning to stir. A few glanced over at him as he stood, taking in the scene. There were so many that had arrived, at least twenty wagons already, all of them burdened with that fatal hope that the journey ahead of them would bring back the life they had lost. Some gathered with families of skinny little elflings under foot, others had seen almost their whole span of years, leaning heavily on their staves and stretching their creaking knees after hard sleeping on the ground.

In the wagon behind him he could hear Demri stirring. She was dressing no doubt, preparing to walk the length of the gathered crowd and learning what medicinal needs she may need to see to as the journey got underway. She was eager for this journey to begin, eager to help carry their people forward. She was a midwife at heart. She wanted to help these people bring forth a new life. As he listened to her moving in the dark of the wagon, he felt his heart swell. He wished he could share her optimism, but he knew the road ahead would be far more difficult than any of these lost children could imagine. He had heard the reports of the caravans that had set out before, wolves, trolls, highwaymen, broken wheels, broken limbs, dead loved ones left in graves by the roadside, never to be seen again.

And he was to lead them.

He had not desired this. He had not sought out the role of leadership. But the gathered heads of family had cast their votes.

Across the glade, a stout horse made a brisk trot. The tall elf mounted upon it back, his face lined with hard battle and hard labor, fetched Aden a paternal wink as he moved by.

Cydonis.

Aden nodded to the old warrior as he passed. Maybe it was their shared Carda blood or maybe it was the innate sense that Cydonis, out of all of these gathered hopefuls, understood the great cost of their venture, but his presence brought Aden a touch of peace as he stepped down from the wagon, feeling his boots sink deep into the tall grass.

Demri emerged behind him. She was dressed simply, her gathered skirt belted at her waist. She carried something in her hands, a hardy fabric of deep green so muted it was almost the blue of winter pine needles.

"I traded for this in Dunholm," she said. "I was saving it for today." She lifted the fabric and wound it about his shoulders. It was beautiful, a wrap cloak of fine weave. He dared not wonder which of her grandmother's trinkets she had sacrificed to acquire the garment. "You needed a new cloak," she said. "That ratty old thing you've been wearing doesn't befit the captain of a caravan."

She pinned it at his shoulder with a broach of tarnished silver. He had seen it before, nestled in her small chest of keepsakes with the trinkets and baubles her grandmother had smuggled out of the riverlands. It was a device in the form of a twisting sea serpent.

"This belonged to my father," Demri said softly as she finished pinning his cloak and laid a gentle hand on the broach. "I never knew him, but my grandmother told me he was kind, and just. I imagine he was much like you." Aden pressed his hand to his wife's where it rested on the broach.

"I will try to be worthy of it," he swore.

"There are more gathering," she said. "They will want to hear from you."

"They will," Aden replied, standing as tall as he could manage. "Soon enough."

 

[Ace Cream]

Rowan/Maria

The two elves quietly entered a tavern. At this hour in the morning the earliest batch of customers had just finished their breakfast and were going for their work. They waited until the tavern was almost empty with only a few of visitors left minding their business in the corner. Rowan took the opportunity to approach the bartender and greeted him.

"Morning. It's me, the elf from yesterday. Any info about it?" The bartender didn't seems to heed Rowan's greeting but he did answered the question.

"A little bird come to me this morning and sang about a group of elks in the Elbren forest. Follow the Lithuan river to the north and be mindful of your surrounding." He replied without even batting an eye at Rowan.

"Thanks man," Rowan slided several large copper coins towards the bartender. "for our drinks in hell."

"For our drinks in hell."

"Drinks in hell??" Maria chimed in but immediately hushed by Rowan. The boy urged them to get out of the building but the bartender suddenly called out to them.

"The bird also sang about a mimic wandering around the north."

"Mimic? Those monsters that disguise themself as treasure chest?"

"This particular one seems fond of statues."

Rowan nodded at the new information. He thanked the bartender again but this time he didn't give money. The two elves got out of the tavern and made their way north, following the river and looking for the said caravan.

 

[Owl Knight]

Demri Stonewood~
Aden strode off through the tall grass, the hanging tail of his new cloak rippling in the cool breeze that flowed across the glade from the river. Demri admired his bearing, the slow quiet dignity that belied his humble origins and mean profession. She knew the weight that hung up his shoulders this day, the tremendous responsibility he bore. She only wished he could see himself the way she saw him. He was born to lead these people, and she felt honored to walk beside him in that role.

Rolling up her sleeves, she made her way down to the riverbank, her skirt swishing in the grass as her soft leather boots broke the long blades under each purposeful stride. A silver dart fish broke the water as she approached with a swirling splash, leaving eddies in the current as it vanished once more beneath the gleaming surface of the river, it's mouth full of the juicy insect it had snagged from the air. She knelt at the water's edge and cupped the cool water in her delicate palms, lifting it to her lips. She was grateful that their road would keep them so close to the river for a long stretch. The supply of fresh water would be a great boon for the traveling Elves, and the beasts that they brought in tow, plains elk, horses, and hounds alike. She splashed the water on her face and dabbed it dry with a corner of the well worn shawl she wore to ward off the spring chill. The shawl had been her grandmother's, one of the heirlooms she carried of her last blood relative.

One day, she hoped, when all of this was behind them, she would wrap her own child in the well loved cloth. It appealed to her, this notion of legacy, particularly in these days when the history of her people had been so horrifically eroded and stripped away, leaving sorrow and pain in its wake.

She stood and stretched, turning to gaze across the glade. Some were gathering up the remains of their evening meal, others buried the coals of their night fire. There were many gathered already and she could see a few straggling newcomers approaching. Some had made the journey from as far south as Tarth, others from the feet of the dragonspine mountains, far to the west. Some came on foot, others rode pony or elk. Many came in drawn wagons that contained everything they owned.

So much hope, for so many people.

 

[EndEffector]

Sybil/Fletcher

Sybil sat in the saddle of her horse holding her small daughter, Embari, close, while Fletcher walked in front, leading the horses. They had three little mountain horses. They were not much to look at. Short, stocky brown beasts with long manes that fell over their eyes and waved like banners flying high over towers in the wind... but that was a memory that belonged to a different person from a different time.

The sun had just started to peak over the mountains in the east.

They had been in the saddle all night. Fletcher had led them through the darkness so that they could reach the caravan in time. He must be exhausted, Sybil thought, but he kept walking with the same easy stride he always did. Gentle, graceful, strong. Sybil felt pangs of conflicting guilt; Guilt for what she felt for this low-born elf; Guilt for still seeing him as low-born. Yet, there was more that was noble in him than in anyone she had known in her previous life.

Embari slept. A small child, she had struggled to sleep in the saddle and had cried for much of the night until exhaustion finally defeated her. Sybil too was exhausted, but there was no place for that. She had to be strong.

Fletcher turned towards her,
"We are close. By the end of Forth Watch we should see if the caravan is still where the merchant said." He looked at her for a moment,
"You must be tired. Do you want me to hold Embari for a while?"
"No, I'm fine" She lied. He gave her a small, half smile, and turned back to leading them towards the caravan that they hoped would take them to a safer, easier life.

After travelling for another hour, it was a relief to see that the caravan was indeed there. Fletcher looked back with a smile, knowing that it would be an enormous relief for Sybil, although she would never say as much.

As they came closer to the caravan, they saw a stream where they could refill their water skins. Standing by the stream was a she-elf with auburn hair who looked up toward them. The colors of the world became richer and more vibrant as Sybil experienced a momentary flash of starsight that allowed her to see that this elf was someone who would be an ally and, maybe, in time, even a friend.

 

[cybercrypt]

He watched as he buffed Gore's mane, polishing her coat with measured strokes as the wagoneers formed into an assemblage of resounding impressions and tempered excitement. The little ones began contemplating a wondrous illustration of some grand adventure while their elders stood by tacitly though reassured their ubiquitous wonderment with kind grins when prompted with another thrilling assumption. Cydonis glanced back to Gore and resumed orchestrating with rhythmic discipline the brush through her silky mane. She whickered warmly as he rests a tender palm on her muzzle. His brow was stern, almost always, seemingly furrowed in observation of something inward. He wrestled with its projection. Cydonis wondered with grave speculation about how many of them wouldn't survive the grueling endeavour. He observed the mingling caravansaries, now flocked in anticipation of Aden's word, and remarked all their manners of expression. Amidst them, he marked an elf, gargantuan of size, and sporting raven hair with cool green eyes. He caught an air of professionalism about him that was only perceived in Aden thus far, and maybe some scant litter of refugees he had passed on the stroll.

Cydonis stowed his greatsword into its scabbard, hung firm by its fixture on the saddle, and attached there alongside his knight's helm. His shawl was draped over broad shoulders which obscured part of a thick chest, scarred by rugged confrontations of past. The shawl quivered in the wind, flapping delicately around his kilt which featured the Clan Carda's tartan pattern. It's sporran, with four tassels denoting clan nobility, had a plains elk head depicted on its front with a blade locked between its jaws. An apothecary satchel was tied to his waist and another sheath tucked neatly into the belt of his kilt. It housed a dirk - a long stabbing knife used to penetrate the slits between armour. It's noted by a long triangular blade, single-edged and thick-barked; and by its peculiar handle, cylindrical, without a guard, but shouldered at the junction with the blade, the grip swelling in the middle, and the pommel circular and flat-topped. It also served a ceremonial purpose and was a customary piece of attire within Clan Carda, and a symbol of their heritage.

Before the journey, he had relinquished himself of all luxuries deemed an unnecessary burden and spared what little he had in his possession for those less fortunate. His luggage was packed into an assortment of leather saddlebags, containing things essential for the maintenance of his equipment and survival. Cydonis traveled light for the hulking greatsword was of corpulent density, and extremely heavy. It was smithed in the harmonious tempest of Dwarven forge masters in the mighty fortress of Ulbek Pagaan, baptized in molten flame, humming into existence once retrieved from the firepit. The vibrations were dampened upon a Dwarve's sleeve, hushed to quietude, and promoting an almost otherworldly liveliness to it. Dwarven smithing ceremonies were an electrifying exhibit of craftsmanship and a marvel to behold.

Cydonis retrieved a pipe from his saddle and stuffed a pinch of tobacco into its bowl, sparking a match then nursing its flame into the fluffy bedding. He toked on the pipe, hearing it blaze with static, then exhaled wispy strands of smoke through intermittent puffs, and watched the faint coils swirl away from him. Cydonis stood and keenly waited for Aden to address the gathered crowd.

 

[Owl Knight]

Demri Stonewood~
Not far to her left, a small family emerged from the shelter of the forest and made their way across to the riverbank. A bearded elf led three shaggy mountain ponies, upon one of which his wife sat, cradling a small sleeping child. Demri was struck by the proud tilt of the woman's chin. She could be nothing but Adari. So few other clans had retained their innate sense of identity.

Demri approached slowly, a welcoming smile on her face.

"She looks worn out, poor wee thing. Has your journey been long?"

 

[Jabroni]

A steady procession of wagons and tents littered the west bank. A few runners pitched water from the river, but most seemed preoccupied with breaking down their camps. "There, Benson! Would you have a look at that fellow? Mark of the clans, must be a bannerman," came the impetuous Elvethian, pointing toward a kilted figure smoking his pipe.

The coach runner ushered their carriage within close proximity. It was a cumbersome thing: large and decadent, charcoal bodied with gold trimmings throughout its Lothan wood carviture. Each side sported double-doors which opened from the center. Perhaps six could sit comfortably within, and to the rear resided Corvinus' extensive baggage stacked across a five foot bed. Rolled blankets, chests, and casks packed ever so tightly against the coach. All of this weight burdened a quartet of well-appointed bay horses, with a cockhorse hitched to the rear by lassoed rope.

"My good man!" Corvinus called out to the soldierly smoker. "Might I say it is a welcome sight to find a man of caliber amongst the dregs." He made no attempt to disembark and just simply gave a flick of his cane. "I trust you will appraise me of your caravan leader's whereabouts, so that gainful conversation may be obtained?"

cybercrypt

 

[Matt l ttaM]

Randuin the Merchant

Randuin stood at his carriage, taking an efficient inventory. As he counted his cases, he pulled a sack from his supplies and walked to the front, petting his horse, “Alright, Hawk, here’s breakfast...well...more like seconds for you.” He offered the horse a carrot or two before tossing the bag back into his cart. As he got Hawk ready to pull, he felt the eyes of another at his back. He moved casually, changing sides to keep straddling his horse. As he surveyed the site, he caught the eyes of the older disgruntled elf that Randuin could only presume was the acting head guard of this caravan. He pulled his hood up more avoiding the gaze before he moved on to finish readying his cart for the day.

 

[Owl Knight]

Aden Stonewood~

The young Carda Elf stood in the center of the glade, watching as all those around him broke down their tents, buried their fires, gathered their scampering young one back to their wagons, and welcomed the first new day of many they would all share.

The cloak Demri had pinned about his neck flitted and danced in the cool breeze. He felt suddenly very small in the face of these people. Who was he? The son of a Carda herd-elf. His people smelled of Elk and sweat and packed earth. He belonged on a sod roofed farm somewhere far from this dark and hungry world.

He felt eyes on him, now. Those close enough to recognize him from the gathering the night before now looking to him for leadership. He swallowed. His tongue felt dry.

Not far off, Cydonis sent smoke rings up against the blue sky from the wide bowl of his pipe and Aden's mind drifted back for a moment to their conversation from the previous night, after the votes had been cast. They had spent some time discussing what it would really mean to lead this caravan, what sacrifices would need to be made.

Aden raised a hand and looked around, bidding the gathering crowd of eager faces be silent. Some saw his sign, but others, less observant, went about their business.

"Attend me," Aden called, his voice feeling weak in the open air of the glade. "All here, attend me!" he added, more forcefully. "The day is here and I would be heard."

 

[Ace Cream]

Rowan/Maria

"Is this the caravan?" Rowan and Maria were finally arrived at their destination. However, instead of going straight into the crowd they hide behind a bush at the edge of the glade to observe the caravan's activities. People were packing their stuff and put it inside their wagon which was pulled by their mount.

"We have none of it. Goods, money, wagon, mount." Rowan talked to himself quietly. His face was shadowed with pessimistic thought.

"I see. I don't think they would accept burdens like us then. Let's go back to the town." Maria was anxious, she didn't know anything about these people and was trying every opportunity to make Rowan hesitate with his decision, but the boy stood firm with it and held her hand tighter.

"No, sooner or later the humans would drive us out of town, that or somebody would kidnap us to be sold at the slave market." Rowan shooks his head trying to drive the thought away. He noticed Maria's anxiety though and was wondering what would be the best approach to this situation. That's when one of the elf announced his presence and demanded the attention from the crowd. The figure piqued their interest.

"He might be the leader. Let us wait here and see." Rowan suggested and Maria nodded in agreement. Their curious eyes peeking through the gap on the bushes and their ears were strained so they could hear what the figure would say.

 

[cybercrypt]

Cydonis stood idly by, chewing on the end of his pipe. He hadn't so much as ferried a peeking glance to the affluent businessman until his outstanding, ornate carriage towered beside Gore. "My good man!" the gentleman beckoned. Cydonis lured his gaze over to behold an opulent merchant saddled atop his wagon. It was a magnificent construct despite notable gradients of deterioration scuffing its prominent visage. "Might I say it is a welcome sight to find a man of caliber amongst the dregs." Cydonis looked at him, studying the well-spoken entrepreneur for an inquisitive moment, observing his eccentric manner and stylish attire, then acknowledged his initial greeting with a mild nod. The man brandished a sleek cane then flicked it as if to enunciate his words. "I trust you will appraise me of your caravan leader's whereabouts, so that gainful conversation may be obtained?"

Cydnois restrained an urge to scoff. He held such fancy-bandying of words in contempt, the speech reminded him of the snot-nosed nobles and court brats he swore to protect - his oath now desecrated and laid in courts violated by the sorcerer's vile machinations. The speculation tarnished Cydonis' memory, a prestigious sentiment, now marred through grief, suffering, torment. It served to further dismantle his admiration for the eloquent arts of conversation and all things high-born, as it reminded him too much of what he had lost.

Cydonis composed his stirring mind and with the morning cut across his face, replied with a bold "Aye." and pointed at Aden's wagon with his chin. He watched as Aden appeared from his caravan, his hand commanding stillness as the bickering mass calmly resigned themselves to silence while others quietly rattled on.

"Attend me!" he called. Cydonis offered a nod in support. "All here, attend me! The day is here and I would be heard."

Jabroni Owl Knight

 

[EccentricFantasy]

Juriell was not one for traveling in big groups. Or groups of any kind. He was more a solitary person. The only real company he kept was his pack of Field Raptors, but when the head of the Lothan clan asked him to go along as sort of an escort, he could not refuse. It was against his nature to refuse to help when asked to. As such he was hear, guarding and gathering spare food.

At the current moment he was sitting on his knees next to Aden's Wagon. He did not have one of his own. He planned to spend the entire trip on the ground or on a wagon. It provided better views and if his Raptors were going to be outside, so was he.

As he waited he was sharpening the edge of his arrow heads. An archer was only as good as his equipment, so he kept his gear in very good condition. Lifting his massive bow he began to check every inch of it. Being much larger than a common bow, he had to make sure it was checked regularly. It was one of the seven defining teachings of Notchism.

As he finished checking the grip he heard a familiar sound. The hissing and almost bird-like cawing of his beloved Raptors. Setting his bow down he looked up to see his pack coming back from the wooded area. He saw that Gruul and Silica, his two largest Raptors were dragging back their kill, a large Albas Ram. It was a large animal most other hunters would not dare challenge, but Field Raptors would. As the two pulled it along the other three were standing guard over their exposed pack mates. Every now and again helping to move it along faster.

With a smile Juriell watched as his raptors got the catch within six feet of him. They then crowded in front of their Elven owner. With a pleasnt smile he made sure to pet each of them "Very good my beauties. I thank you for this catch." Each of the raptors affectionately nudging and making social chuffing noises at him.

After properly thanking them they all backed away as he moved forward. Pulling his gutting blade out he looked at the beast they brought him. With its size it would last a few days on this trip. At least the parts he didn't feed to the pack. Which would mostly be the hind legs and organs. The problem was that it was far too big to completely gut on his own. He turned his head to as for hel, but instead saw a seemlingly well off bussiness man. He wondered how that man felt seeing a pack of Field Raptors, one of the most effective wild hunters in the world, just drag in this massive beast. The thought made him chuckle a bit.

After a moment of just enjoying the thought, he spoke up so that everyone could hear him "Any of you mind lend me a hand? I have to break this down." Standing next to the Albas Goat, it was clear how big it really was. He was tall for an elf at 5'5" and this animal made him look small. Luckily his pack was there to help. Now they were looking at him. Waiting excitedly for the food they knew he would give him

Ace Cream Jabroni Owl Knight cybercrypt Matt l ttaM EndEffector

 

[EndEffector]

Demri Stonewood~
Not far to her left, a small family emerged from the shelter of the forest and made their way across to the riverbank. A bearded elf led three shaggy mountain ponies, upon one of which his wife sat, cradling a small sleeping child. Demri was struck by the proud tilt of the woman's chin. She could be nothing but Adari. So few other clans had retained their innate sense of identity.

Demri approached slowly, a welcoming smile on her face.

"She looks worn out, poor wee thing. Has your journey been long?"

Fletcher gave the young elf a friendly smile,
"Thank you, it has. We've been on the road for a long time and it has not been easy." No, it had not. They had traveled along the Elbrecht coast after passing through the mountains from The Starlight Spring to escape the destruction left by the Sorcerer. Along the way they had been shunned, cursed, and even hunted as they made they way through Elbrecht. They, and all their kind, were unwanted and distrusted by the humans.

Their path had not been a straight one. Not really knowing where they were going until the learned of the caravan. They had been trying to find their scattered people and avoid humans as best they could.

"My name is Fletcher. This is my wife, Sybil, and our precious daughter, Embari." said Fletcher turning to Sybil and Embari.

"We learned of this caravan from a leather merchant in Tarth." said Sybil, her voice was sharp and imperious, "Do you travel to The North? We thought to join the caravan, although we can provide for ourselves; We do not come as beggars."

 

[Owl Knight]

Demri Stonewood~
"Indeed, we are setting off for the north this very day," she replied. "And do not fear, we have agreed to see to the needs of all. My mate, Aden, is the appointed captain of the caravan. He will be addressing the crowd soon," she turned and saw Aden raising his hands and calling for silence. All about the gathered elves halted in their morning work and stood at attention.

Aden Stonewood~
Aden kept his hand raised, noting with some satisfaction and some trepidation that the eyes of the gathered elves had fallen upon him. Mothers hugged infants close to their chests, menfolk gathered their families close. Rich and poor, young and old, the caravan awaited his first address as Captain.

"I greet you," he began, somewhat hesitantly, his eyes roving the crowd. "You can go about your work in a moment, we have much to prepare..." The faces of the crowd were blank, some even confused, awaiting his next words.

"The road ahead...it is one we have striven for these twenty years," he continued, finding his footing. "I know that many have suffered, wept, even bled, for this chance. I see in your eyes the same weariness that I have felt in this country, this kingdom that is not my home. And I know, that for many of you, this road that lies ahead of us, a road that some have traveled ahead of us and a road upon which many will follow, is the last best home for your mates, your young ones."

His hand fell, and rested on the elkhorn handle of his longknife, resting in the oiled sheath at his belt.

"But know this. The road we take is a hard one. We will follow the river north, through Parthan, Elbrect, Anbar, the kingdoms of men who have rejected and corralled our people into ghettos and slums, cast us out and driven us from their lands as vermin. Their highways and hamlets will not welcome us in such numbers as this," he spread his arms wide, gesturing at the many families and lone travelers arrayed across the glade. "We shall sleep upon the hard ground or in the beds of our wagons. We will bear whatever weather comes, endure heat and cold. Wolves in the pinewoods, highwaymen in the valleys. We will drink what water and eat what provision the earth sees fit to provide."

He frowned grimly.

"Then we will reach the great northern steppe. It is a land of great rolling plains, hardpacked land, and wild beasts. Trolls and goblins patrol the west, barbaric men make war in the east. Our road shall take us between this hammer of men and the anvil of the stone children."

He searched the faces of the gathered crowd. he wondered how many knew the tales of caravans that had gone before, those whose road had taken them into the jaws of massacre and death.

"If we should make our way through this gauntlet untried by our enemies, we will reach the great mountains of grey stone, and beyond those mountains, the lands that Prince Andar has preserved for us."

He raised his hand in a warning gesture. He marked it now, the hesitation blooming in the eyes of many.

"This is the choice you face for your families, your clans, your beasts and heirlooms. You may stay here, and suffer under the yoke of human kings who will bear you long enough to benefit and then cast you aside, or you face the perils of this road, and hope to reach a resting place in the new homeland. Those who turn back now, will face no judgement, for know this, not all who start on this road will reach the homeland, but those who do will be free."

A few members of the gathered crowd began to filter away. But most stayed, a rigorous determination set in theireyes.

"To make it all the way north, we must support each other, as we did in the days of old," Aden continued. "If you are skilled with the bow or long spear, foraging, woodcraft, your skills will be put to the test, for there will be much need to hunt and forage. If you know anything of medicine, herbs, or you have the touch of healing, my wife, Demri," Aden gestured in her direction, "will oversee your efforts and organize a healing tent. She is a skilled midwife, so any who are with child, or conceive upon the way, will find her willing to aid you."

He felt himself beginning to ramble.

"Seek me out, or any of the elders who spoke in the gathering last night, should you need anything. We depart before the sun reaches the tenth hour. Cydonis will organize the wagons, so look to him for guidance when we prepare to depart."

He nodded in thanks, raising his palm to his forehead in an ancient gesture of respect. Many of the older elves present returned the gesture.

As the activity resumed with renewed vigor, Aden made his way across the glade to the riverbank, where his wife stood, her hands on her waist. He took her up on his harms and held her close for a moment.

"You did well," she breathed in his leaf shaped ear.

"I hope so," he replied.

 

[Ace Cream]

Rowan/Maria

Rowan and Maria listened carefully as Aden delivered his speech towards the gathered crowd. He floored their route, their plan and their purpose and Rowan found himself nodding along.

"He seems like an okay person to me. Right, Maria?"

"..." The elf girl didn't answers directly, but Rowan knew that she was now on the fence about this travel to the north thing. Just a bit more push. Rowan pulled Maria as they made their way towards the riverbank where they saw Aden gone.

"Ah, sorry for disturbing." Rowan got a bit flustered when they saw Aden was with her wife. "Anyway, we need to kno-"

"Introduction first." Maria cuts Rowan attempt to cut to the case like he usually did. The boy took a deep breath and introduced themself.

"My name is Rowan, this is my.. little sister, Maria. We're a refugees, but I guess most of here are refugees. Gosh, what was I talking about. I'm not good with chitchat like this." After some times fumbling around with words, Rowan finally able to gathers his wits back and talked with a more confident tone.

"I might want to join your caravan but I want to clarify some things. We have no money, wagon or mount of ourself and I'm sure we're not the only one looking at the size of the crowds here. How would you handle people like us?" Rowan took a brief pause before he delivered his second question, he could feels Maria's cold hand gripping his arm tightly.

"The other question... Do you believe it? That this Arden-"

"Andar."

"This Andar dude even existed? Sorry if I sounded too pessimistic, can't help it." Rowan looked at the captain in the eyes.

Owl Knight

 

[Owl Knight]

Aden Stonewood~
Aden eyes the young newcomer with more than a degree of irritation and noted the shy girl standing just behind him. The young elf spoke with the casual ease of many young Elves, those born after the fall of the homeland who grew up in human cities.

"This is not my caravan," Aden replied. "All who come here do so of their own free will and travel together for the greater good of all. I was chosen to lead our path, but each family present is free to choose their way. Many here have prepared for this journey for months. They have food, blankets, and shelter prepared for their own spouses and children."

He gestured at the elf families who busily readied themselves for the journey, careful to leave nothing behind.

"Perhaps one of these has room to spare in exchange for honest work, but there are none obligated to take in strays."

Aden caught the young Elf's eye, his brow dark.

"If this girl means anything to you, you'll turn back from this road, assuming you are as unprepared as you seem."

Demri laid a retraining hand on her husband's arm.

"Ask one of the Elk herder's down by the riverbank," she suggested. "some of them may be taking on extra hands to help with the herds along the road."

Aden turned and stalked away to find Cydonis.

 

[Ace Cream]

Rowan/Maria

"Stray my ass!" After their conversation with the caravan leader, Rowan and Maria headed back towards the glade and sat on the edge of the glade, away from the crowd. It's not like he didn't expect that response, but he was still upset at how powerless he had become and the truth still stung. He vented his anger by kicking a random tree repeatedly.

"Rowan, please calm down. Here, have a bread." Maria didn't know how to calm her companion but she tried anyway.

"You can have the bread." Rowan keep kicking the tree. "Dang, what did I expect anyway. That everyone would be nice and dandy and offer us shelter for no reason?! Rowan, you dumbass."

After a few more kick the elf boy was finally got tired and sat next to Maria. She extended her hand to offer Rowan his drinking sack. The boy gulped down the water diligently.

"Can we... go back to the town??" Maria sounded hesitant, but she was quite persistent to go back to their status quo as homeless street elves.

"Sorry, Maria... The real reason of why we can't go back is because I made some mess with the mayor two days ago. I'm really sorry..." The angry elf boy had vanished, replaced by a slumped dirty youngster with a tired and regretful look on his face.

"I see..." Maria took out a tiny sack and produced several small balls with amber color from it. She shoved some of the orbs into Rowan's hand and tried her best to gives him an apologetic smile. "It's honey candies. The seamstress gave some to me yesterday but I didn't share it with you because I wanted it all for myself. Please don't be sorry for me..."

Bullshit... was what Rowan wanted to say, but he didn't. Maria was a bad liar. He knew about the candies, the number didn't change from the time he managed their inventory so neither of them ate any of it. She probably just trying one of those psychological nonsense that the church thaught to her. Still, the gesture knocked Rowan out of his self-pity. He took one of the candy and plopped it into his mouth. His lips shifted from the frown into his regular mischievous smirk.

"We're even then. No more secret between us."

"Pinky swear!"

The two elves took a rest while sharing their leftover bread.

 

[EccentricFantasy]

Juriell Gilfoud

Juriell had grown tired of waiting and his pack did as well. If the had to wait much longer the pack would lose their mind. So, through some old fashioned thinking, he decided to just string the beast up but himself.

Firstly, he prepared att that he needed to break this beast down. His collection of blades, a massive amount of salt he brought to cure meats and a huge metal chest he brought to store said cured meats. Mlving it would be a hassle, but he was asked to make sure these people were fed, so he would find a way.

Through sheer effort he, and his pack of very strong Raptor's, managed to hang the Albas Ram by its very large and sturdy horns. Taking his time he cut it from its chest to its groin, allowing all the insides and blood to seep out, making sure to remove and safetly drain the stomack away from all the other parts of the beast. As they all fell he knew it would take time for the animal to bleed. Faster though, since he also took his saw and cut off its hind half, watching it fall as well.

Allowing it time to drain the blood, he could see his wonderful pack chomping at the bit. This was a good time to do the tradition. Reaching into the organ pile he pulled out the animals massive heart. Juriell smiled as he showed it to them "You guys know the rules. To whom does the heart belong?"

In many ways, his Raptor's were smarter than dogs and even more well trained. They knew many signals, rules and traditions that Juriell made sure they followed. One set tradition was that the hunter who landed the killing blow, got the prey's heart. It was a right to the victor that few hunters still respected.

Waiting, finally a raptor stepped forward. Its feathered frame was one of the smallest. The beast nipped at the heart. Wanting to take its prize. Juriell smiled and rubbed the Raptor's neck "So it was you Horiz? Speed has won the day." He closed his eyes and placed his forehead directly between the eyes of one of his pets "Thank you so much. Your bravery and tenacity are truely a grand sight to behold. Horiz, the champion of this hunt." Gently he gave the beast its prize and it sauntered back to the others.

Completing the hunting rite, he returned to the organs and meat cuts laying dow. He took the time to cut them up. Making sure all the choice organs, like the liver and kidneys, were divided equally among the pack. The rest he just divided in random, roughly equal amounts. Even taking the time to split the meat of the hind legs he sawed off equally among them.

When done, he had five equally proportioned piles of organs and meat. One with a heart next to it. He made a noise and that was clearly the Raptor signal to eat. Once they heard it, they began devouring their respective piles. Clearly not caring how much blood they got on themselves.

Allowing them to eat he started to break down the rest of the massive Albas Ram. He completely skinned it, cleaned the skin and hung it up to dry. It was full of holes, but if anyone in the caravan knew how to sew, it could make a fine pelt. After that he sawed off the horns to give those to whomever wanted them.

Laying a layer of salt on the bottom of the metal chest. He took his time to carve off thin layers of meat. He laid them on the salt and covered it with more salt. Repeating this process over and over again until finally the chest was full of layers of meat covered in salt.

It was a special type of pink salt that the Notchish people harvested from the salt caves deep in the mountains to the east of the Greywood. It and this metal chest was the perfect curing machine. Locking the chest, he looked at the carcass and saw there was no need to take any more. There was also no room for it. With as little as there was, there was no need to take it. But he could see the pack had finished their meal and wanted at the bones and leftover carcass. Moving away he made the noise once more. The pack immediately jumped the mostly stripped carcass. Getting at all the sinew, bone marrow and cuts Juriell could not fit. As they ravenously tore what was left of the ram to pieces. Now he needed to figure out how he would wrap this chest in a dry sheet like cloth. It was normally a three person job, but since he was on his own, it was gonna be a bit tricky.

 

[cybercrypt]

Cydon brought the pipe behind his back and returned the ancient gesture with respect. He waited for the rabble to disperse a little, emptied his pipe, then saddled up. As Gore made her trot through the licking grass, their equipment bouncing into an orchestra of clinks and chimes, Cydonis bid the kind merchant and his coach runner a nod of courtesy. "Dress her in elk hide might the bandits stick ye," he stated, remarking its lucrative grace in a gruff comment. It shined like a diamond amidst grit despite its unlit composition. Cydon steered Gore from the crowd and the stallion cantered over the glade towards the helm of the caravan where the front guard had made camp.

He scanned their camp with 120 years of military experience bustling in his mind, locked into a deliberate stern brow and stiff-upper-lip. His soldierly projection quietly inspired those who noticed his stallion holding firm nearby. Cydon hailed the guard and he nodded, whistling for the Front Man. Inside the harbouring tent, Cydon accompanied the Front Man and lead his sergeants in strong conversation, discussing movement, formation, terrain, and training. He assessed the reports, was acquainted with rumours, and informed of so-called 'forks in the road'. Cydon relayed Aden's word into the council which suggested an emphasis on teamwork, explaining it with the virtues of clanship.

Cydon indulged in some wine tasting with the lieutenant once the guards had been dismissed. He and the Front Man spoke freely and regaled each other about their wartime experiences, noting a desolate sentiment over the kingdom past, though rejuvenating damp spirits by confessing of their optimism that Prince Andar would preserve for them the promised land. They were about to engage in the topic of where they hoped the wind would take them until Aden suddenly appeared within the tent. Cydonis hailed him with an amiable "Aye brother?" and wellied a stool from under the table for him to sit.

Owl Knight

 

[EndEffector]

Rowan/Maria

"Stray my ass!" After their conversation with the caravan leader, Rowan and Maria headed back towards the glade and sat on the edge of the glade, away from the crowd. It's not like he didn't expect that response, but he was still upset at how powerless he had become and the truth still stung. He vented his anger by kicking a random tree repeatedly.

"Rowan, please calm down. Here, have a bread." Maria didn't know how to calm her companion but she tried anyway.

"You can have the bread." Rowan keep kicking the tree. "Dang, what did I expect anyway. That everyone would be nice and dandy and offer us shelter for no reason?! Rowan, you dumbass."

After a few more kick the elf boy was finally got tired and sat next to Maria. She extended her hand to offer Rowan his drinking sack. The boy gulped down the water diligently.

"Can we... go back to the town??" Maria sounded hesitant, but she was quite persistent to go back to their status quo as homeless street elves.

"Sorry, Maria... The real reason of why we can't go back is because I made some mess with the mayor two days ago. I'm really sorry..." The angry elf boy had vanished, replaced by a slumped dirty youngster with a tired and regretful look on his face.

"I see..." Maria took out a tiny sack and produced several small balls with amber color from it. She shoved some of the orbs into Rowan's hand and tried her best to gives him an apologetic smile. "It's honey candies. The seamstress gave some to me yesterday but I didn't share it with you because I wanted it all for myself. Please don't be sorry for me..."

Bullshit... was what Rowan wanted to say, but he didn't. Maria was a bad liar. He knew about the candies, the number didn't change from the time he managed their inventory so neither of them ate any of it. She probably just trying one of those psychological nonsense that the church thaught to her. Still, the gesture knocked Rowan out of his self-pity. He took one of the candy and plopped it into his mouth. His lips shifted from the frown into his regular mischievous smirk.

"We're even then. No more secret between us."

"Pinky swear!"

The two elves took a rest while sharing their leftover bread.

Fletcher, Sybil, and Embari had little time for breakfast. They had arrived late to the caravan, but they needed to be ready for another day on the road. Fortunately they had a small supply of provisions and were able to put together a quick meal.

Embari had finally woken, but was not in a great mood. Probably from riding through the night. Sybil was sitting in the grass with Embari between her legs, passing her chunks of bread softened in warm elk milk.

Fletcher turned to watch the camp. He saw an exchange between the caravan leader and a young pair of elves. He couldn't hear what was said, but it didn't look like the pair were well received. They were dismissed and it looked like the boy was unhappy about it. They didn't look like they were ready for a trip like this. Were any of them? Still, what can you do? Fletcher knew what it was like trying to eke out an existence in these lands. But he'd had the benefit of skills and learning from his father. These two looked lost and desperate.

"I'm just going to stretch my legs." He said to Sybil. She looked at him with a pursed mouth and raised eye-brows as if to say, do you really expect me to believe that? He just smiled, got up, and walked towards the two young elves.

The two were sharing an old piece of bread. Probably the last they had.

"I hate to ask, but would the two of you be able to help my wife and I? We're just having breakfast and then we need to get ready to move out. There's probably too much food for just us. Why don't you join us for breakfast, and then help get things packed after that? By the way, my name's Fletcher."