- Messages
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- Character Biography
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Alliria had been a rich hunting ground for a time. But those with power were beginning to figure out there was a pattern to what was taking their people at night, and he'd been pushing his luck far too much to remain around the large city for too much longer.
The bag he kept on his back full of little tools to keep himself occupied as time passed to wipe away the memories of the short lived mortals. Fun times had been spent of a night in the taverns after work. The woodshop he'd been employed to finding his skill far beyond that of a man seemingly his age. A fact he had been made keenly aware of by the old heads around the place. They'd stooped and hawked over his work, unsure if they were impressed or angered by his appearance some years ago now.
But time was equal parts his ally as it was his enemy.
The elderly remembered his face. Wondered aloud about how he had been able to remain so young during the passing of years. Posed questions to the younger folk about Fin the woodsman. If he had always been so spry and youthful in their memory as well until the questions had fallen silent to the .
Cautious glances cast his, only growing as he tried to dismiss the questions. Only postponing the inevitable before he'd been sent to the blacksmith to fetch a special set of tools. He'd handed each tool over to the head wood worker by request. A confused stare as each tool was examined by Fin before changing hands and the man had dismissed him for the day without explanation. Fin had made his final hunt during the night before disappearing from Alliria to satiate his well quelled hunger.
He'd only needed to do so every half century, and by then most everyone that could remember the incident had either passed into senility, or the matter had been attributed to some strange coincidence.
Hardly the worry of a man that looked human, and acted as much aside from his towering form.
The Falwood however held long it's memories, and the trees seemed unhappy with his presence. A fact that only revealed itself through a series of twisting paths that always led him back to the strange stone that marked the beginning of a trail point. His eyes, the same shade as the ferns that dotted the area, scanned for some form of foul play at hand. Some stranger that might reveal themselves by accident as his hands firmly held onto each hip. His head turning slowly to allow his peripherals to catch movement.
He'd hunted many a times in his life. Finding the motion to be the most effective in low light and even during the brighter hours of the day when he seldom hunted for fear of discovery. Resigning himself to some form of natural punishment against the grand order of the world, a gusty huff had him drawing closer to the stone marker and setting his pack beside it.
Linking his hands together before reaching them to the sky to work out the soreness in his back. The long cloak around his shoulders caught no breeze as his shirt protested against the movement.
A pleased sound coming from the man as he finished his stretch and shook his head.
"Suppose a break would be good." His breeches pulled up as he twisted, holding a hand out to help him sit beside the stone and get comfortable before pulling a small block of wood from the backpack and setting it in his lap. Opening another protective wrap inside the bag and pulling free one of the smaller whittling knives and tracing his hand along the edge.
Pleased to see the long walk hadn't damaged the edge, he took a final look around him, feeling the unease of being watched settle over him.
Whoever had been watching him was far better than most humans that had attempted the feat. They hadn't stumbled into his sight, nor had they made a sound during the time he'd noticed the unease. He'd been hopeful it was just a particularly wary animal. The feeling however of caution in his mind had been a signal that it was something far more potentially dangerous to him than a simple beast-creature.
The small block of wood found his hand as his gaze fell away from the trees and grass around him. Pulled itself free from staring at the shadows that dotted the scenery to focus on something more tangible than a feeling.
The bag he kept on his back full of little tools to keep himself occupied as time passed to wipe away the memories of the short lived mortals. Fun times had been spent of a night in the taverns after work. The woodshop he'd been employed to finding his skill far beyond that of a man seemingly his age. A fact he had been made keenly aware of by the old heads around the place. They'd stooped and hawked over his work, unsure if they were impressed or angered by his appearance some years ago now.
But time was equal parts his ally as it was his enemy.
The elderly remembered his face. Wondered aloud about how he had been able to remain so young during the passing of years. Posed questions to the younger folk about Fin the woodsman. If he had always been so spry and youthful in their memory as well until the questions had fallen silent to the .
Cautious glances cast his, only growing as he tried to dismiss the questions. Only postponing the inevitable before he'd been sent to the blacksmith to fetch a special set of tools. He'd handed each tool over to the head wood worker by request. A confused stare as each tool was examined by Fin before changing hands and the man had dismissed him for the day without explanation. Fin had made his final hunt during the night before disappearing from Alliria to satiate his well quelled hunger.
He'd only needed to do so every half century, and by then most everyone that could remember the incident had either passed into senility, or the matter had been attributed to some strange coincidence.
Hardly the worry of a man that looked human, and acted as much aside from his towering form.
The Falwood however held long it's memories, and the trees seemed unhappy with his presence. A fact that only revealed itself through a series of twisting paths that always led him back to the strange stone that marked the beginning of a trail point. His eyes, the same shade as the ferns that dotted the area, scanned for some form of foul play at hand. Some stranger that might reveal themselves by accident as his hands firmly held onto each hip. His head turning slowly to allow his peripherals to catch movement.
He'd hunted many a times in his life. Finding the motion to be the most effective in low light and even during the brighter hours of the day when he seldom hunted for fear of discovery. Resigning himself to some form of natural punishment against the grand order of the world, a gusty huff had him drawing closer to the stone marker and setting his pack beside it.
Linking his hands together before reaching them to the sky to work out the soreness in his back. The long cloak around his shoulders caught no breeze as his shirt protested against the movement.
A pleased sound coming from the man as he finished his stretch and shook his head.
"Suppose a break would be good." His breeches pulled up as he twisted, holding a hand out to help him sit beside the stone and get comfortable before pulling a small block of wood from the backpack and setting it in his lap. Opening another protective wrap inside the bag and pulling free one of the smaller whittling knives and tracing his hand along the edge.
Pleased to see the long walk hadn't damaged the edge, he took a final look around him, feeling the unease of being watched settle over him.
Whoever had been watching him was far better than most humans that had attempted the feat. They hadn't stumbled into his sight, nor had they made a sound during the time he'd noticed the unease. He'd been hopeful it was just a particularly wary animal. The feeling however of caution in his mind had been a signal that it was something far more potentially dangerous to him than a simple beast-creature.
The small block of wood found his hand as his gaze fell away from the trees and grass around him. Pulled itself free from staring at the shadows that dotted the scenery to focus on something more tangible than a feeling.
