- Messages
- 12
- Character Biography
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Cold mist clung to everything like a child to its mother. Had they not seen the waning light of day before leaving the quiet village of Parumora, it would have been impossible for anyone in the group to have known what time of day it was. Pale light filtered softly through the dense trees of the Twilight Pines, falling like flowing curtains onto the treacherous, rolling forest floor below. The wind moaned its phantom presence through the pines, its chill biting at whatever skin it could touch. Night time had fallen, and the somber environs of the woods of Phorasmos were anything but quiet.
Beyond the muffled trudging of boots on moss, dirt, and fallen foliage, the group walked along side a creek that burbled away, uncaring of any need to sleep. Branches cracked and nocturnal fauna made their presences known, always just out of sight.
"Did we really need to do this in the dark, Master Ensis?" an uncertain voice piped up, the neophyte among the group making his discomfort known for perhaps the fourth or fifth time. An elven boy, fairly young in appearance, though with elves it was always hard to tell. "Surely first light would have been safer."
"Hardly so, but it matters not. The ritual we need perform can only be done beneath the light of the crescent moon, neophyte. It is of great importance that it be done, and an important lesson in your path to becoming fully fledged," Ensis replied, the old spiritsmith making good time despite his need for a gnarled walking staff. "Even so, you need not worry for fear of revenants. They rarely wander this far from the Charnel City, and even less so do they traipse this deep into the pines."
The boy visibly relaxed, the paranoia wracking his heart relenting somewhat.
"Don't let your guard down too much, Arlen. There's plenty else in these woods that would see us all dead if we were to falter," Tristan warned. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way only a few years prior, when the Mourners had finally allowed him to start training in their ways. A chill ran along the lining of his armor, though a comforting one. Fane...likely agreeing, or at least attempting to elicit confidence. Tristan would never get used to that.
"Right..." Arlen hazarded, stiffening up once more, his eyes searching in the darkness for signs of danger. "Just where is it we're headed, anyways?"
"One of the warding monuments that protects the Pool of Remembrance. The enchantment which projects the ward must be renewed every so often, lest it lose its effect and the pool become exposed to corruption, or worse," Ensis answered plainly.
Tristan knew this. He looked over the ragtag group that had been chosen to accompany the elder spiritsmith. He imagined that most of them understood. Only time would tell how necessary such an entourage would be. Traveling in numbers always carried its own risk on the isle of Phorasmos...
Beyond the muffled trudging of boots on moss, dirt, and fallen foliage, the group walked along side a creek that burbled away, uncaring of any need to sleep. Branches cracked and nocturnal fauna made their presences known, always just out of sight.
"Did we really need to do this in the dark, Master Ensis?" an uncertain voice piped up, the neophyte among the group making his discomfort known for perhaps the fourth or fifth time. An elven boy, fairly young in appearance, though with elves it was always hard to tell. "Surely first light would have been safer."
"Hardly so, but it matters not. The ritual we need perform can only be done beneath the light of the crescent moon, neophyte. It is of great importance that it be done, and an important lesson in your path to becoming fully fledged," Ensis replied, the old spiritsmith making good time despite his need for a gnarled walking staff. "Even so, you need not worry for fear of revenants. They rarely wander this far from the Charnel City, and even less so do they traipse this deep into the pines."
The boy visibly relaxed, the paranoia wracking his heart relenting somewhat.
"Don't let your guard down too much, Arlen. There's plenty else in these woods that would see us all dead if we were to falter," Tristan warned. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way only a few years prior, when the Mourners had finally allowed him to start training in their ways. A chill ran along the lining of his armor, though a comforting one. Fane...likely agreeing, or at least attempting to elicit confidence. Tristan would never get used to that.
"Right..." Arlen hazarded, stiffening up once more, his eyes searching in the darkness for signs of danger. "Just where is it we're headed, anyways?"
"One of the warding monuments that protects the Pool of Remembrance. The enchantment which projects the ward must be renewed every so often, lest it lose its effect and the pool become exposed to corruption, or worse," Ensis answered plainly.
Tristan knew this. He looked over the ragtag group that had been chosen to accompany the elder spiritsmith. He imagined that most of them understood. Only time would tell how necessary such an entourage would be. Traveling in numbers always carried its own risk on the isle of Phorasmos...