B
Beowulf
Guest
HP 11/13
AC 8
AC 8
Buras grunted in pain as the bear chomped down on his leg. Guess it wasn't a tamed bear after all, something he had only seen once, now twice, in his long life. He didn't have to worry about another bite, however, as one of the others quickly killed it. "Poor bear." he muttered. Yes it had bitten him, but his thick skin had prevented the bite to go all the way through so all it really needed was to be cleaned out and wrapped up if possible.
When the person that had killed the bear began to look it over like a vulture, Buras was torn between pushing him off of it and letting him pick what he want. In the end he decided to introduce himself and ignore the situation. "I am Buras, son of Harant, son of Gareth." he said politely, bowing slightly instead of taking the offered hand. It was the Ogier way, to bow instead of shake hands. And those that visited the Ogiers often followed Ogier culture and traditions. Long story short, he didn't know how to act around other races. He repeated this process two more times, once to each of the two others, and paused as he looked for the third to do it to when he heard a voice next to his ear. Looking around, he sees nothing until something about his shadow catches his attention. There was someone sitting on his shoulder. Preposterous, nobody was sitting there, he couldn't feel anything and all he could see of the person was the shadow. How strange, perhaps it was some trick of the eye, and magic was involved.
But he had a question to ask, so he once more decided to ignore what he did not want to think about. "Yes, I have one question. Where are we? And where is the nearest Grove?"