Private Tales Just Over the Border

[Sagarus]

Aberresai Savannah
Border of Falwood
​

He wasn't concerned about the villagers, nor their attempts to hide the criminal from the justice of Vel Anir. What he was concerned about was that he'd had to destroy half of it - and kill the criminal - in his attempts to take him back to Vel Anir. The elf was one that had attempted to sell illicit information to some group or another out in the sticks.

Truthfully, he could have found out more, but he wasn't an information broker. He was a Dreadlord. He took orders, he followed them, he got the job done. Rinse, repeat.

The gently rolling hills of the grasslands fed into a range of jagged peaks to the north, but another day's ride would get him back to the familiar green of Falwood and from there to the fortress-city of Vel Anir. He'd stopped, hitching his horse to a small tree for the night while setting up a fire to keep him warm when the sun went down.

A low purr told him that his familiar, which took the shape of a cougar, was prowling through the grasses nearby. Taking a seat on a blanket, the corpse of the elf-criminal resting on the ground for the evening, he settled in to chew on some salted meat he'd brought with him. He hated trips like this, as he was out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but potential enemies around.

Then again, this was what he was raised for.

Enthund

 

[Enthund]

And as it did, the stars would show their light and Pneria her pale russet cheek.
The dark would go deep azure and the land space was soon pitched darkness, with the Dreadlord's fire the only significant light for quite a distance.

Enthund this time was all alone. Among many others scouts, she'd been despatched out to comb out the wider region.
The notion of an important informant going missing did rile up the independent elven warbands to quickly move to action.

One thing they told every single one, if you find them, get reinforcements.
Enthund wasn't the one to listen too closely.

She left behind her orxyiffin to approach the campsite. The fire was still a speck, and she dared not to approach just now until she gauged the direction of the wind.

 

[Sagarus]

Nestled in the golden reeds of the plains, a cougar stalked. It's eyes were glassy black, though not from pupil or iris. They were voids, plain and simple. It's fur was tanned, and it's body lined with scarring that meant some of it appeared hairless.

But it's claws were grey as steel, and shined the same too. It was stalking something, quiet as could be. He'd grown up hearing a familiar refrain: You didn't hunt the cougar, the cougar hunted you. The fact it had gone quiet concerned him, but not unduly.

Sometimes it was just quiet as it warded off stray, aggressive animals. But it was wary, and that made him wary.

A piece of salted meat was brought to his lips, and he gave it a tug. Chew, chew, swallow.

"Save some meat for me." The words were spoken to the wind, and out of sight, a cougar flattened it's ears in submission.

 

[Enthund]

Southwest, the wind went southwest.
She loosened an arrow from her quiver and hunkered down as she escaped the scarce trees.
The grass would keep giving good cover for as long as it remained tall, such as it was often enough in the wilds.
with each step, she slowly wandered closer and closer, but as much as she was covered, she couldn't quite see so well past the leaf blades.
Occasionally the grass rustled, or the call of a wild animal travelled across, but it seemed as much of an unremarkable night as any other.



The orxyiffin slowly departed towards the deeper groves, but any proper forest would be still a long way ago.

 

[Sagarus]

With jerky in hand, he continued to chew distractedly. The quiet night did little to ease the tension in his broad shoulders, and the burden of his duty wore him down as the river erodes a rock. His edges had smoothed over the years, but that didn't make him any less deadly a weapon.

"Bastet."

A simple name, and with it, the cougar appeared at his side. His armored hand lowered, running absently over the hair on it's head. Not a true beast, but in his distraction he treated it as one. You serve well, but not all prey is yours.

The telepathic communication earned him a thought-reply of submissive annoyance, but the beast simply settled in. Inhaling deeply, he could smell nettles and muck, and knew, as all warriors could, that something was approaching.

As if driven by instinct, he stood slowly, like a clockwork automaton turning itself on.

 

[Enthund]

The man rose from the grassy camp and the elf took a moment to observe him in this new light.
Manscum, adult. Nothing else mattered. Just another run of the mill human.

She could shoot, but... She'd have to raise herself a little, potentially blowing her coverage.
Nevertheless, she nocked an arrow on the string just in case.