- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- EST. Might be asleep anytime from 12am to noon though.
- Writing Levels
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Genres
- Fantasy (Modern, Futuristic, etc.)
[fieldbox= Falkare Burnhild, white, solid]
Falkare's head rose when the guard's voice rang out over all others to make the announcement. The man's friendliness only continued to set him on edge, and he scowled when the bright light forced him to squint or otherwise be blinded. He steeled his expression as the magic began to wrap around him and with a throaty growl, its soothing effects were forced aside momentarily. He would not let this magic beguile his mind, but even with such resolve Falkare's eyelids began to droop. As his vision began to fade and consciousness slipped away, the grip around his weapon only tightened.
He woke before the others and had spared them only a glance before he turned his attention to the surroundings. How long had it been since he had seen a lush, if unusual, forest like this? Falkare wasn't certain nor did he choose to dwell on it for too long. He scowled as he stood, feeling his feet sink into the soft clay under his weight, and quickly moved to leave the pit. A small pile of animal droppings caught his eyes, but he ignored them for a moment as he walked over towards the sand and used it to dry out and rub off most of the clay that clung to his clothes. He also chose to put a handful or so into one of the deep pockets the pants came with; it might come in handy later on.
With that taken care of he finally approached the small pile of droppings to examine them. They seemed rather fresh and after a moment he also managed to discern that tracks led to the north, towards the river. Extremely small though, so probably worthless as prey, but knowledge of what lived in this environment would be useful itself. He spared another glance at the others before he lead the clay pit and headed north towards the river to follow the tracks.
He stopped only to pocket a few small stones and palm and fist-sized rock, guessing the projectiles might come in handy if he did find something to hunt. The heavy club rested on his shoulder as he eyed the running water before he crossed it at a shallow point where he could see the bottom. When he finally made it to the opposite bank, he knelt down again to try and find the tracks again. He thought he managed, but with how small they were it was hard to be certain. He had a vague direction that led into the underbrush though and Falkare scanned the woods for a moment before he decided to pursue this further.[/fieldbox]
Falkare's head rose when the guard's voice rang out over all others to make the announcement. The man's friendliness only continued to set him on edge, and he scowled when the bright light forced him to squint or otherwise be blinded. He steeled his expression as the magic began to wrap around him and with a throaty growl, its soothing effects were forced aside momentarily. He would not let this magic beguile his mind, but even with such resolve Falkare's eyelids began to droop. As his vision began to fade and consciousness slipped away, the grip around his weapon only tightened.
He woke before the others and had spared them only a glance before he turned his attention to the surroundings. How long had it been since he had seen a lush, if unusual, forest like this? Falkare wasn't certain nor did he choose to dwell on it for too long. He scowled as he stood, feeling his feet sink into the soft clay under his weight, and quickly moved to leave the pit. A small pile of animal droppings caught his eyes, but he ignored them for a moment as he walked over towards the sand and used it to dry out and rub off most of the clay that clung to his clothes. He also chose to put a handful or so into one of the deep pockets the pants came with; it might come in handy later on.
With that taken care of he finally approached the small pile of droppings to examine them. They seemed rather fresh and after a moment he also managed to discern that tracks led to the north, towards the river. Extremely small though, so probably worthless as prey, but knowledge of what lived in this environment would be useful itself. He spared another glance at the others before he lead the clay pit and headed north towards the river to follow the tracks.
He stopped only to pocket a few small stones and palm and fist-sized rock, guessing the projectiles might come in handy if he did find something to hunt. The heavy club rested on his shoulder as he eyed the running water before he crossed it at a shallow point where he could see the bottom. When he finally made it to the opposite bank, he knelt down again to try and find the tracks again. He thought he managed, but with how small they were it was hard to be certain. He had a vague direction that led into the underbrush though and Falkare scanned the woods for a moment before he decided to pursue this further.[/fieldbox]