- Messages
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- Character Biography
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Amidst the wilderness of the Allir Reach, just shy of the coast of the Allirian Strait
Well into the wilds, there was not but the sound of crackling camp-fire and the scrape of whetstone against knife's steel. Garrod, sellsword and monster hunter, sat before that flame, and was the cause for the cold and repetitive scrapes and rings as he keened the edge of his carving tool. At some point, he had let it grow dull, and that just wouldn’t do.
It was always strange, to be between jobs. Leaving the hunt of one field, and making his way to the next. North and east, along the coast, the fisher had told him, in a grotto hidden away, but a day and a half’s march. He had offered Garrod a ride on his dingy, but, he preferred the peace that came with a lonely wander.
Scrrrrapeshiiing
He placed the gritted stone beside him, and raised the knife up to his good eye. Angled it one way, then the other. Looked good enough.
Garrod…
He sheathed the tool with a quick thump, and let it rest next to the belt that was laid across the stump he rested his back against.
Why do you ignore me, Garrod?
His lone green eye looked over at the pale blue eye of his gauntlet. Watched as the forked firelight flickered across its moonlight sheen.
You know… I take care of you...Garrod...I protect you…
He smirked at the ornament. Bared his teeth at that thing he had laid so tenderly by his pack. “And what do you call what I do for you, eh, Belephus?”
He could hear it laugh its fog wisp laugh. You know what you do… Garrod.. You let me grow hungry… you leave me to wane… to suffer...
Garrod grit his teeth with foul humor. “Of course…”
Well into the wilds, there was not but the sound of crackling camp-fire and the scrape of whetstone against knife's steel. Garrod, sellsword and monster hunter, sat before that flame, and was the cause for the cold and repetitive scrapes and rings as he keened the edge of his carving tool. At some point, he had let it grow dull, and that just wouldn’t do.
It was always strange, to be between jobs. Leaving the hunt of one field, and making his way to the next. North and east, along the coast, the fisher had told him, in a grotto hidden away, but a day and a half’s march. He had offered Garrod a ride on his dingy, but, he preferred the peace that came with a lonely wander.
Scrrrrapeshiiing
He placed the gritted stone beside him, and raised the knife up to his good eye. Angled it one way, then the other. Looked good enough.
Garrod…
He sheathed the tool with a quick thump, and let it rest next to the belt that was laid across the stump he rested his back against.
Why do you ignore me, Garrod?
His lone green eye looked over at the pale blue eye of his gauntlet. Watched as the forked firelight flickered across its moonlight sheen.
You know… I take care of you...Garrod...I protect you…
He smirked at the ornament. Bared his teeth at that thing he had laid so tenderly by his pack. “And what do you call what I do for you, eh, Belephus?”
He could hear it laugh its fog wisp laugh. You know what you do… Garrod.. You let me grow hungry… you leave me to wane… to suffer...
Garrod grit his teeth with foul humor. “Of course…”