- Messages
- 21
- Character Biography
- Link
Oh, under the merciful guidance of Dhavohr, may I be delivered to this Monastery?
An errant rock tumbles under Raul's foot, heedless and foolish in his stride. He just barely catches himself from rolling his ankle. From putting himself out of effectiveness and leaving himself stranded, unfound. It brings him to a full halt, to catch a breath he hadn't realized he wasn't taking.
"Traveler, be quick about your business, this trail is not safe, and you would do well to hurry on to a settlement." spoke Master Hawken, some ways and some time behind him.
A whistling, calling, of creatures from the depths of the land rolls around him from all angles. He was theirs, if they wished it. If Ohtar allowed it.
"There is a Monastery, not too far from here, you would do well to seek refuge there, and should the gateman terry you, let them know that Master Hawken has granted you passage." spoke Master Hawken, shortly after warning him. Shortly before a poisoned dart had been flung from the underbrush, and the culprit, whomever they may be, had disappeared.
Shortly before his alert but relative calm countenance had irrationally dissolved into the slipshod shanties built to temporarily house refugees. A breeze rattling each pane of wattled, tarp-shrouded walls.
The bellow of a stag sends a jolt through him, rousing him from his thoughts, and he loosens his fingers from his necklace to grip his blade's sheath. He takes a breath and swallows.
Fool.
He forces a stride forth. And another. A third. Bringing his right hand from the grip to dangle loosely, left hand clenching and un-clenching into a fist at his other side. The forest slowly begins to clear around him. The sounds cease to bend upon him as a weak sapling. As he looks back, he sees that he had wandered from the path.
I should have asked for directions. Greencloaked am I. Look at how I tremble.
He faces forward and continues, monitoring his step, and after a few minutes that feel far longer, the walls of buildings begin to break through the brush. Raul's heart clenches painfully in relief.
The well-meaning boy at the gate only detains him for a moment, until Raul mentions Master Hawken. Astenvale Monastery, old and unkempt, unfolds in front of him as he steps through the gate. Washes over him with calm.
This is... Unlike any monastery I've ever seen. Even Vinbagnys, in it's elder condition, isn't this out of repair.
He loops a finger under his necklace, rests his left palm flat on his abdomen. The air still smells crisp, before the sun has had a chance to fully warm up any early-season flowers and burn away the morning dew.
"Bless you, child."
I expected more statuary, but I suppose not everyone follows the doctrine of idols and sacrementals.
The clash of metal, the sight of knights practicing forms to one side, wrenches him so hard from his train of thought that he simply has to stare, surprised.
These must be the knights I seek.
He turns back around to the boy, weary beyond the hour, before deciding to entirely forget his question. He finds a place nearby to sit, pulling a hard cracker from his pack to gnaw upon, and awaits a superior.
What aught I do now?
Alaric Wulf
An errant rock tumbles under Raul's foot, heedless and foolish in his stride. He just barely catches himself from rolling his ankle. From putting himself out of effectiveness and leaving himself stranded, unfound. It brings him to a full halt, to catch a breath he hadn't realized he wasn't taking.
"Traveler, be quick about your business, this trail is not safe, and you would do well to hurry on to a settlement." spoke Master Hawken, some ways and some time behind him.
A whistling, calling, of creatures from the depths of the land rolls around him from all angles. He was theirs, if they wished it. If Ohtar allowed it.
"There is a Monastery, not too far from here, you would do well to seek refuge there, and should the gateman terry you, let them know that Master Hawken has granted you passage." spoke Master Hawken, shortly after warning him. Shortly before a poisoned dart had been flung from the underbrush, and the culprit, whomever they may be, had disappeared.
Shortly before his alert but relative calm countenance had irrationally dissolved into the slipshod shanties built to temporarily house refugees. A breeze rattling each pane of wattled, tarp-shrouded walls.
The bellow of a stag sends a jolt through him, rousing him from his thoughts, and he loosens his fingers from his necklace to grip his blade's sheath. He takes a breath and swallows.
Fool.
He forces a stride forth. And another. A third. Bringing his right hand from the grip to dangle loosely, left hand clenching and un-clenching into a fist at his other side. The forest slowly begins to clear around him. The sounds cease to bend upon him as a weak sapling. As he looks back, he sees that he had wandered from the path.
I should have asked for directions. Greencloaked am I. Look at how I tremble.
He faces forward and continues, monitoring his step, and after a few minutes that feel far longer, the walls of buildings begin to break through the brush. Raul's heart clenches painfully in relief.
The well-meaning boy at the gate only detains him for a moment, until Raul mentions Master Hawken. Astenvale Monastery, old and unkempt, unfolds in front of him as he steps through the gate. Washes over him with calm.
This is... Unlike any monastery I've ever seen. Even Vinbagnys, in it's elder condition, isn't this out of repair.
He loops a finger under his necklace, rests his left palm flat on his abdomen. The air still smells crisp, before the sun has had a chance to fully warm up any early-season flowers and burn away the morning dew.
"Bless you, child."
I expected more statuary, but I suppose not everyone follows the doctrine of idols and sacrementals.
The clash of metal, the sight of knights practicing forms to one side, wrenches him so hard from his train of thought that he simply has to stare, surprised.
These must be the knights I seek.
He turns back around to the boy, weary beyond the hour, before deciding to entirely forget his question. He finds a place nearby to sit, pulling a hard cracker from his pack to gnaw upon, and awaits a superior.
What aught I do now?
Alaric Wulf
