A
Ai
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[by @ReaperOfFlames]
Castigarian, #1048cb
What had he gotten himself into?
It was a question Castigarian found himself asking more and more these days as the party pressed forwards towards Tavark. What had started as a simple mission to find a man called Medwick and discover the reason for the blight infecting his home had turned into something so much more grand that he could barely keep his mind wrapped around it. It wasn't to say that he regretted any part of his decisions, in fact he firmly stood by every choice he'd made thus far; however, that didn't negate the strangeness that had befallen him since he'd left the warm familiarity of his woods.
Now he found himself firmly on the run with Blythe and Vrein, attempting to outpace the Grintökkén of all things.
Like many in Tavark, he'd once thought them to be nothing more than fanciful tales spun by mothers to coax their children into staying out of the woods after dark. According to legend, they were spirits of those that had long passed left unappeased who had taken the form of spectral wolves; with coats of shiny ebony and wide grinning faces continually dripping with blood, any who stared into their eyes were bound to face an early grave, or so his mother had told him when he was young.
This, however, was no faerie tale; wolf howls were never accompanied by words in understandable Sunneian, and a normal voice no matter how powerful could travel that far on the wind of its own strength. It was enough for the hunter to push his friends hard and fast, weaving them through his trees like a seamstress threading a needle through cloth; the more distance they could put between them and the Grintökkén, the better.
Without warning however, the trio were stopped by the sight of a strange woman performing an ever stranger ritual; were it not for Vrein's motion to hold his ground, he would have nocked an arrow in his bow out of instinct. Instead of that, the woman motioned for them to come forward, and after some lengthy discussion between her and Vrein, he was left with only more questions, not that they had any time to discuss things as they moved on.
"Ah hope ye got more an' tha' from 'er Vrein. Ah'd like some proper answers when we get t' Tavark." he said gruffly as they pushed on through the dense brush. "Won't be long nao, 'bout a few miles more a'fore we're there. The supersitious folk surround t'town wit herbs an' such t'keep things like t'Grintökkén out, so we should be safe once we're there."
The howling however was getting closer, and despite his knowledge, he wasn't entirely sure how well they could outpace ethereal beings. He sure as hell was going to try though, he'd be damned with he was going to be eaten by spirits before he set eyes on his home again.
It was a question Castigarian found himself asking more and more these days as the party pressed forwards towards Tavark. What had started as a simple mission to find a man called Medwick and discover the reason for the blight infecting his home had turned into something so much more grand that he could barely keep his mind wrapped around it. It wasn't to say that he regretted any part of his decisions, in fact he firmly stood by every choice he'd made thus far; however, that didn't negate the strangeness that had befallen him since he'd left the warm familiarity of his woods.
Now he found himself firmly on the run with Blythe and Vrein, attempting to outpace the Grintökkén of all things.
Like many in Tavark, he'd once thought them to be nothing more than fanciful tales spun by mothers to coax their children into staying out of the woods after dark. According to legend, they were spirits of those that had long passed left unappeased who had taken the form of spectral wolves; with coats of shiny ebony and wide grinning faces continually dripping with blood, any who stared into their eyes were bound to face an early grave, or so his mother had told him when he was young.
This, however, was no faerie tale; wolf howls were never accompanied by words in understandable Sunneian, and a normal voice no matter how powerful could travel that far on the wind of its own strength. It was enough for the hunter to push his friends hard and fast, weaving them through his trees like a seamstress threading a needle through cloth; the more distance they could put between them and the Grintökkén, the better.
Without warning however, the trio were stopped by the sight of a strange woman performing an ever stranger ritual; were it not for Vrein's motion to hold his ground, he would have nocked an arrow in his bow out of instinct. Instead of that, the woman motioned for them to come forward, and after some lengthy discussion between her and Vrein, he was left with only more questions, not that they had any time to discuss things as they moved on.
"Ah hope ye got more an' tha' from 'er Vrein. Ah'd like some proper answers when we get t' Tavark." he said gruffly as they pushed on through the dense brush. "Won't be long nao, 'bout a few miles more a'fore we're there. The supersitious folk surround t'town wit herbs an' such t'keep things like t'Grintökkén out, so we should be safe once we're there."
The howling however was getting closer, and despite his knowledge, he wasn't entirely sure how well they could outpace ethereal beings. He sure as hell was going to try though, he'd be damned with he was going to be eaten by spirits before he set eyes on his home again.
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