Solo Unexpected Work

[Brandon Blackwing]

Day 53 of Fall 515Av

At least it's not snowing, Brandon thought as he slowly made his way down the Sanikas road, katinu wrapped tightly around his body. Even without snow covering the ground, or falling from the sky, the temperature was icy. It seemed Morwen had come early this year; pushing Bala out of the picture prematurely. Why she had decided to do such a thing was a mystery, of course, as was most of the Gods' business, though nevertheless one could not help wondering about the reasons. Or the consequences.

If it had snowed already, if it was already this cold, what did that mean for the actual winter? Would it be harsher than usual? Or had winter just started earlier, and would it end sooner as well? Would the seasons have swapped places within a couple years? There was no true way of knowing until that time came. Either way, Brandon was glad he'd brought his new custom semi-gauntlets with him, and he was wearing them now. Due to the base being a leather glove with extra padding, it did at least do a good job of keeping his hands and fingers warm. The only thing that bothered him were the metal plates reflecting the sunlight. If he were to use them on occasions were stealth was required, he'd have to cover them with something... Maybe he'd just wear another glove over them, only with the fingers cut off of it, so it wouldn't hinder him.

Slowly, the bat descended a slope with loose rocks and pebbles, careful not to lose his balance. Some places were frosted over, only increasing the slipperiness of the terrain, making it harder to traverse it. I just hope the stream hasn't been frozen... he pondered, but that was the least of his worries. The water would be icy cold anyway, especially with the weather they'd been having as of late. Bathing was becoming a real pain in the butt; the Tisuma Baths were boiling, and no-one was allowed entry. Rumor had it even the endal could no longer bathe because the pools in their aeries were piping hot too. And the streams outside were cold, relatively far away, and possibly a hunting ground for the Zith. As a result, Brandon had had no choice but to strap all the daggers he owned onto his person.

Brandon sighed as he finally could place his feet on level underground again, then beginning to leave the path, heading into the woods. It wasn't like he knew much about navigating, nor did he know the location of most landmarks to be found around the volcanic city, but he did know there was a stream somewhere to the south, and that was of course where he was headed. For a couple ticks, Brandon stopped to look at the sky, at Syna's position in particular. It was still morning, albeit near noon already, so the sun should be in the … south-east. If he remembered to check his own location with the position of the Sun Goddess in the sky, he couldn't get lost. Or too lost. Of course, the canopy of the trees would probably hide the heaven from his gaze, though since it was Fall, he might find a spot with a less obstructed view.

Cautious, the bat sniffed the air once he had entered the woods, trying to judge whether there were any creatures nearby that could pose a threat, but as of yet there were none. None he could smell that is. However, the wind blew from a fortunate direction, so it would be surprising if he'd missed something easily recognizable such as a bear or wolves. Nevertheless, the Kelvic spread his focus between his surroundings and his own motions, trying to move as quiet as possible with all these dead, crispy leaves scattered about. This would be troublesome... however, it could also aid him to detect far-off beasts trying to be stealthy... Brandon sighed, deciding to first come up with a way to minimize the noise he made himself, then pressing on. It wasn't as if he needed to be back any time soon anyway.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Raguna]

Today was a nothing day. He had considered going into the city, but was otherwise discouraged in his overall motivation. Visiting Wind Reach was a hassle. Not that large of one, but certainly a drawback, especially on a lazy day like today. The shape shifting, changing into clothing because the humans could not handle bare skin, trekking down the mountain, entering the gates. Plus he would have to figure out what he even wanted to do once inside. He just didn’t feel like all that was worth it, at least today.

The air started getting colder and he was actually happy. His moods about the seasons changed with each year, and apparently this year he would favor Winter. The air was cold, but it was mid Fall and although a tad early, it was not surprising to the Kelvic. The chill felt refreshing in his nostrils, soothing in his wings, rejuvenating in his feathers. So this day he decided to fly, get a feel for the coming weather, maybe take a mouse or two just for fun.

Unless he had an actual mission it was rarely any fun to fly above the mountain. The sky was open, which is always comforting, but there is not much to see. The prey saw him coming from a mile away, the dirt was always the same color, the trees never changed, this far up they were always evergreen (or dead), the few that there were. He was heading down to the forest where he could sneak up on unsuspecting rabbits, watch smaller birds panic in the early appearance of Winter and seeing them scramble as they realized they were late for their arrival in the warmer South. Once the cold set in it was quieter in the leaves. The ground started to freeze, temporarily suspending any digging of hiding places. Plants shriveled up removing themselves from the food web and animals tended to move slower. Large predators snuck away to dark, cozy caves and smaller ones were forced to adapt to both less competition, and less prey.

The deer though were more confidant than ever. They knew that their enemies were sleeping and the humans were retired. They had more time in the day to search for dwindling food. They sometimes even seemed straight up cocky as they stepped on the crunchiest leaves and indulged in loud conversations. This was the first animal Raguna encountered as he entered the forest. He was a large one, but the bird could tell he was young, just entering full adulthood. He carried on his shoulders the confidence of new, young blood. Anyone who knew better would feel for the animal. He had no right to stride with such enthusiasm, it was all shown entangled in his perfect, small antlers that held no scars of battles for mates or rank.

Raguna broke the waves of canopy adeptly, silently bowing and dodging the branches and leaves. The trees had fully accepted Fall by this time, and their foliage showed it. The Hobby’s feathers were harder to detect during this time of the year rather than in any other season when the leaves of the forest were green rather than deep browns and golds. He perched himself on a sturdy branch high above the froliking stag, quietly observing for just a moment. His pupils flared as he flicked on his sight and as he suspected the animal was surrounded in a calm aura, completely unsuspecting. Ten ticks went by, then Raguna turned off his reader, took a chime more of recuperation before quickly jumping off the branch and riding the wind down, pulling up just before hitting the deer, and then moving on, taking one quick glance back as the animal scrambled away in fear. He chuckled inwardly to himself then set off for more adventure.

He settled once again into the thicket many yards away from his previous point. He took a few chimes to gather his breath and alertness. Even a few seconds of magic would wear the boy down. Soon though he felt right enough to continue and so he did, travelling through the forest, jumping from branch to branch, taking a few flaps of the wings in between. He wasn’t making a huge deal of being quiet, but he was a small bird, high up in the trees where he wouldn’t draw much attention to those not looking for it. And then, without even realizing it before it was almost too late, he happened across another creature entirely.

He instantly froze, dug his talons into the soft bark and shut his wings tight. It was a human walking through the woods. He wasn’t extremely surprised, this area was not that far off the beaten path and certainly not out of the range of Wind Reach. However the humans he always saw in the woods were hunters, and not that this man wasn’t, it was just he didn’t look like one. He did not, as far as Raguna could see, equipped with a bow or any other type of weapon. Well, no, now that he looked closer he could just make a out a couple of daggers on the man’s thighs. Though Raguna had never seen anyone hunt with daggers… Rather he was dressed in a classic Inartian Katinu among other basic Wind Reach attire.

He needed more information. Now merely just out of curiosity, he doubted the man was of any danger to Raguna himself. So he blinked and then he saw. Suddenly the human was enveloped in color and a high piercing sound cut through Raguna’s ears. He flinched but managed to avoid calling out. The ringing persisted as Raguna focused on the man’s aura. He would have to take in a much detail he could, and fast. With this ringing the Kelvic was sure he wouldn’t be able to use Auristics for as long as he usually could, which wasn’t really saying much at all.

He took it all in as much as he could with the noise jumbling his thoughts. The aura acted a bit like fog, light enough to float on air, but dense enough to kind of sink. It had a dark undertone to it and made Raguna feel uncomfortable. So far he did seem to like this stranger at all. Yet the aura also seemed to have a kind of awe to it, and Raguna felt strangely intimidated, and then on top of all that there was a familiar feel, kind of comfortable. With two exact opposites in one aura Raguna had to stop. He was seeing for probably six or seven seconds and then he snapped out of it. The noise instantly faded and the sounds of the forest came back to him, loud enough for him to notice them as he didn’t before.

He was utterly exhausted. He shook his head, trying to stop his mind from replaying the high pitched sound, closed his eyes and was enveloped by the serine darkness. He reveled in it for a good few chimes without opening and once he did the man had moved a good ways away, almost out of eyesight. He was still tired but wasn’t willing to let that kind of aura get away so easily, and so he pursued, slowly but gradually, carefully stepping with his bird feet from one branch to the next. Once he stopped and leaned his forehead against a trunk, closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths before continuing. He just hoped he would regain his strength soon. Maybe he would have to catch a mouse or something.

[Brandon Blackwing]

OOCI'll be continuing this as a solo

Brandon soldiered on, his attention divided between is own movements and the environment, in hopes to remain undetected while detecting whatever possible threat or large creature that came into range. For the moment there was nothing yet, only some birds in the trees, and some critters speeding through the underbrush. Nothing to worry about. Nevertheless, the bat placed his feet with care, avoiding rotting twigs and especially crispy leafs in an effort to be as silent as he could be. The soft ground -devoid of noisy covering, that is- muffled his steps already, but that did not remove the need for caution. It wasn't because he didn't see, hear or smell something, that it wasn't nearby. Even senses as strong and sensitive like Brandon's could still be fooled.

Despite his general careful method of motion, the Kelvic covered a lot of ground in surprisingly few chimes, and before long he had arrived at the stream he'd been aiming for from the start. For a moment he glanced all around him, took a good sniff of the air, and listened carefully. Nothing large close by, and nothing too dangerous in the direction where the wind came from either. Good. Assured the coast was clear, Brandon removed the bandoliers from his legs, pulled off his gloves, boots and all other items he wore. He approached the stream, carefully testing the water with a toe. Cold, freezing. Unpleasant. A sigh escaped, and he considered not bathing at all. The problem was that he felt a little sticky for some reason, and it was slightly annoying. Ultimately the bat just crouched near the water's edge, and threw some water on the places that needed being washed the most instead of soaking his whole body in the shallow stream. It was way too cold for that. And he'd forgotten to bring a towel.

Once the quick 'wash' was over and done, the Kelvic used his bryda to get rid of most of the droplets clinging to his skin before getting dressed, shivering under the cold breeze. Good thing the loose pants were made out of wool, and he'd donned his katinu; they formed a warm barrier against Morwen's early arrival. The last belt was finished being buckled, and the Kelvic stuffed his numbing fingers in the gloves, pleased to feel a little bit more warmth at last. He looked at the sun then, using its position to get an accurate feel of the time, deciding to head a little deeper into the Unforgiving; what else was he to do for the rest of the day? Wind Reach sometimes felt a little too cramped to his liking, the endal's ego took up too much space. That and from time to time he'd rather not spend his time surrounded by people. The Unforgiving was a dangerous place to get lost in, but Khara had given him some good advice on how to find Wind Reach when that sort of thing would happen. He wasn't worried.

Having decided he'd continue trekking south, crossing the stream by the use of boulders sticking out above the water's surface and going further into the woods, the Kelvic did just that. There was no specific bell he needed to be back in the volcanic city, so he didn't bother with going too far. He did however check the time and the direction he was headed in every so often, if only so he'd know just how long it would take for him to get back to Wind Reach, and in what direction he'd have to walk.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

For about a bell or so, Brandon was just walking, traversing the Unforgiving in the proximity of Wind Reach as carelessly as was possible for him. He clambered up steep slopes, waded through the tough mountain brush, crossed rivers and streams by the use of stepping stones, and followed the sun further and further south. Or so he thought; soon enough, when he stared at the sky once more, the bat Kelvic realized he’d make a crucial mistake; he’d been following the sun. Obviously he shouldn’t have kept moving in the exact same direction as the sun had been sitting in…

Not that the thief considered it a problem; aimless wandering had been his intention from the start. That he had now managed to get lost was not important; he’d just use Khara’s advice and find his way back by seeking the high ground. There was something else that was bothering him though; the fact that he was smelling corpses, death and decay –carnage- coming from all directions even though the wind was blowing from behind him. Said wind should be carrying that smell away from him not allowing him to smell anything at all, but instead it was faint but still noticeable, something that should have been impossible. A frown creased his brow momentarily, and he stared at the mark sitting on his left palm.

Logic told him that this was one of the mark’s abilities; he just smelled death in the air, and it wasn’t like he would have if the mark had nothing to do with this. Not to mention that underneath the smell of decaying corpses and dried blood there was Dira’s scent. That sweet, subtle scent of roses the Goddess had emitted when they’d met. There was no mistaking it; it was the Goddess of Death’s smell, even fainter than the dried blood and rotting tissue, but unmistakable nonetheless. A remnant of her presence perhaps? A trait that the walking corpse nor the Beast hadn’t possessed; almost as if Dira had been subtly telling him they were escaped or trying too. Living when they weren’t supposed too. Having obtained a scent of overwhelming rot and decay, but devoid of the sweet, almost melancholic scent of Dira’s touch. More like the fumes that had come from that stinking mudpool.

If it truly was the work of the mark –something Brandon didn’t doubt seeing the impossibility of it being his mundane senses- then he had to heed its call; meaning he’d have to search for the source. Unfortunately, for all the Gnosis’ power to defy the impossible, it did not seem to be capable of telling him which direction he should head for. The only thing Brandon did know was that the place soaked in death was close. Nevertheless, figuring out where exactly he had to go was not that much of a problem; he just had to think of it as echolocation. A couple steps backwards and he didn’t smell a thing; thus it wasn’t behind him. If he walked forwards however, the scent became just a tad bit stronger, letting him know he was closing in. Just like using echoes, but instead of using the interval between sending and receiving an echo to measure distance and his position relative to an object, he utilized the decrease in faintness of the scent. Much like tracking people by smell, only less precise.

Applying that principle, the bat navigated through the mountainous region, tweaking the direction he was walking in corresponding with the strength of Dira’s scent. The closer he got the more he felt as if the smell was rolling through the forest, much like huge waves of mist or steam emitted by hot springs in cold seasons. The further away from the source, the thinner the mist became, and the closer to the spring, the thicker and more noticeable it was. Only, this ‘mist’ was invisible and unaffected by the breeze, guiding the Kelvic through circuitous means.

Nevertheless, he did arrive eventually, the scent of Dira far stronger than it had ever been since he’d been marked, though sadly, not as strong as when Brandon had met her in person. Indeed, much like a faded painting, or the body odor of a person anchored in a piece of clothing even though said person was long since gone. It smelled old, as if Dira had been there once, perhaps not too long ago, but had left a while before he’d arrived. Only some bushes separated the Kelvic from the location he’d been led to, he knew, and behind them he would find what he had been smelling all along. Slaughter, carnage. Death. Strangely enough though, the bat felt calm and almost relaxed. There wasn’t any tension in the air, no nervous thoughts bouncing around in his head. No worry, no fear.

Instead he felt at ease, peaceful. The sensation he’d been looking for during his aimless wandering, the reason to get out of the busy, bustling, cramped city of redheaded birdbrains. Strange it would come to him here of all places, a location with death written all over it to the point of actively guiding his feet to itself. Perhaps this too was a boon of the mark; the thief couldn’t remember ever having felt this calm around death before. For a tick he just stood there, pondering, before pushing the obscuring bushes away, ploughing through the hardy vegetation and laying eyes on the sight they’d kept hidden.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

Contrasting the strong presence of death, only about five corpses were spotted laying around, all of them Zith. Though, there was an extremely noticeable lingering smell of blood covering the entire area, even pushing the scent of the corpses to the background. Most Zith had arrows sticking out of their bodies, killed by the marksmanship of the Inarta. Some had cuts all over their limbs and torso as well, injuries resembling those of a cutting weapon; a talon sword maybe? As Brandon stalked closer to one of the corpses, he noticed some scraps of fabric strewn over the ground, and there were some stuck under the nails of the nearest dead Zith too.

Upon closer inspection, the corpse had not only fabric, but also some red hair under its fingernails, indicating there had been Inarta here when they died. A battle did not seem far-fetched, on the contrary, it was the most likely possibility. But where were the bodies of the humans they’d killed then? This many Zith should have slaughtered quite a few of the redheaded folk, especially so if the Inarta had been scouts. That was unlikely though, as mere scouts were no match for a Zith, let alone a whole group of them.

The bat looked around for a bit, then moved to the next Zith, a female. She’d been beautiful when she’d still been alive –for a Zith, of course- but now she resembled a pincushion. Her face was frozen in an expression of both pain and terror, one clawed hand clenched into a tight fist. It was a Deadman’s grip, and Brandon had to break most of them with the pommel of his dagger to force it open. Inside, there were feathers, brownish and torn, but feathers nonetheless. Large too; a wind eagle’s perhaps? A quick glance upwards confirmed there was enough space for a couple of the giant birds to swoop down and attack. If he had to guess, then a large hunting party of non-endal had been attacked by these Zith, had almost been completely wiped out, but then some endal arrived and turned the tide, wiping out the Zith instead. Seemed plausible, though perhaps it wasn’t the whole truth.

It would however explain the lack of Inarta corpses; the wind eagles could have taken them back to Wind Reach to throw them into the heart of the mountain. What had Turrin called it? A proper burial? A waste of recourses the vegetation and animals of the Unforgiven could use to grow and survive. Fortunately the Zith had been left behind though –as to be expected of the Inarta- so those corpse would serve well. They might be dead, but they were not useless –unlike the dead Inarta- and would serve as a means for other things to survive. It wasn’t a waste; Brandon would drag them to the roots of a tree, letting nature take care of the rest. The bodies would rot, be eaten and become part of the soil. But first he had to remove the arrows though, as those could wound the scavengers who tried to eat the corpses. And if they somehow managed to swallow one of the sharp tips of the arrows, it would injure them from within, probably resulting in their death. And that was not the result Brandon would like to see.

As such he plucked the weapons from the dead Zith their bodies, something that took some time and effort –especially with the barbed arrows- and placed the corpses at the edge of the clearing, between the roots of the trees growing there. Another was thrown into the shrubs not very delicately, but the Kelvic couldn’t care less about the empty shells that had once housed a soul. True, he considered his body sacred, but did the conservation of his body matter once his soul had been claimed by Dira? No. It did now, for as long as it was the vessel of his immortal soul. Some might consider his lack of care a sign of having no respect for the deceased, and in a way they were right. Brandon saw no reason to respect a rotting body that didn’t need it anyway, but that didn’t mean he would go spit on them or cut them to pieces just for the fun of it.

When the bat finally had managed to drag away the bodies of all but two Zith, a whole lot of time had passed. The process was oddly time consuming, eating away the chimes faster than expected. But he was nearly finished, and both remaining corpses didn’t have much projectiles sticking out of them. They were rather beat up though; one was just about torn in half, and the other possessed a leg and a wing that had assumed abnormal angles, along with several gashes litter over his body, and an arrow sticking out of his abdomen. The Kelvic sighed and decided to start with the latter, if only because the scent of innards was something he’d rather keep clear of as long as possible.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

Just as Brandon crouched beside the corpse, wrapping his hand around the shaft of the arrow sticking out its abdomen, something grabbed his wrist, albeit weakly. A clawed hand rested there, as if to attempt and stop what the bat was trying to do. The Zith’s eyes were opened, though his head remained on the ground, as did his shoulders, the effort seemingly too much for the beastly man. He groaned, and his arm fell back down, Brandon letting go of the arrow’s shaft, staring at the severely wounded creature. How could he have overlooked the obvious fact that he was still alive? The winged beast-man’s eyes hadn’t been closed at all, they’d been staring into nothing, and yet Brandon had failed to notice his state as a living thing. He hadn’t even heard his breathing, or his heartbeat –things that were so obvious now- but why?

Because he’s already closer to death than life, the Kelvic realized, his mark confirming it, Dira’s scent clinging to the dying Zith, smothering everything else. However, this whole slaughter had to have taken place at least two days ago, judging from the old smell of dried blood –this particular Zith should have died a while back, especially when looking at his injuries… No, wait. The cuts and lacerations weren’t as deep as he’d thought they were. They had likely weakened the creature, but they hadn’t killed it; in fact, the blood had clotted within them, sealing wounds, preventing him from bleeding out.

However, there was no denying that Dira was really close, just waiting for the Zith to just stop living. Then, if his lacerations weren’t lethal, the arrow had to be… even though it hadn’t hit anything essential. Perhaps it wasn’t because of the gravity of the wound but because it had thrown the delicate internal structure in disarray, maybe it had caused body fluids from certain organs to flow somewhere they weren’t supposed to, resulting in a slow death. A horrible one maybe? The Zith made some noises with his voice; shrieks, rumbles, but nothing understandable. Obviously though it was trying to tell the bat something. “I cannot understand you,” he spoke, slowly so the creature would be able to know what he was saying even if the Zith wasn’t exactly proficient at speaking Common.

For a couple moments the only thing that escaped the Zith’s mouth were ragged breaths, grading against his throat. Then, slowly, he spoke, his Common heavily accented and his voice weak. “I don’t … want … to die…” Brandon frowned at the words, giving the male another look over, even though he knew it wouldn’t change anything. The scent of Death clung to him and it wouldn’t change. “Death is inevitable,” the Kelvic tried to reassure him, “Anything I’d try to patch you up would only result in prolonging your pain for a bit. Perhaps a bell, maybe a day. But-”
“I don’t … want to… die… like this,” the Zith interrupted, completing the sentence he hadn’t been able to form a couple ticks ago. That made a whole lot more sense, Brandon found, although he had limited experience with the winged creatures –and said experience was limited to surviving one of their onslaughts- the Kelvic was utterly convinced a Zith wouldn’t beg for their life. For one or other reason he believed them to be incredibly proud beings. Perhaps it was because of the wings.

“Not like … this,” the Zith repeated, grunting with a commanding and determined tone, probably aimed at both the Kelvic and Dira herself. Brandon nodded. “I understand,” he soothed him, “I’ll end your misery, if you so desire.” The Zith’s expression seemed to relax a little, and then the thief noticed just how weary he looked. Exhausted, defeated, but also grateful and full of … hope? Why hope? Because his end would be upon him soon, finally? Because he wouldn’t have to sit around another day or so deprived from anything but immense pain? “May Dira safely guide your soul to the Beyond,” the bat solemnly spoke, unsheathing the dagger strapped to his thigh and holding it above the Zith’s chest. Gently, Brandon placed his hand on the side where the heart should be, confirmed it, and corrected the positioning of his blade.

The Zith appeared to relax completely, closing his eyes, and he sighed shakily; he was ready. Brandon too sighed, then plunged his weapon into the creature’s chest. The thief could feel it scrape past the ribs, passing between them to go straight for the heart. And that was it. Blood poured out quickly as he retracted the blade, both the breathing and heartbeat of the Zith already having stopped. Dira had claimed his soul, and only the shell remained.

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Brandon Blackwing]

Brandon sighed, pulled out the arrow that had lodged itself in the now dead Zith's abdomen and threw it on the pile. By now the bat figured he had enough shafts to build himself a nice, albeit small, campfire. If, of course, he could manage it; Brandon's survival skills were sub-par, one of the few things he found he needed to work on. That however, was not a job for this immediate time, nor the very near future. He'd improve his knowledge of the field someday, but that day was not today. Another sigh escaped the thief's lungs as he started dragging the corpse towards and into a patch of nettles. The Kelvic couldn't care less about the stings; he was wearing boots and a bryda, enough to defend against a plant.

Next came the body of the one that had been almost split in half, which the bat just dragged to the nearest tree and placed it against its trunk. It could go decompose there, Brandon didn't want to have to spend any more time close to it. Damned intestines, why did they have to stink so much? Good thing he had been able to hold his breath for long enough, he doubted if he'd have survived if he hadn't. Now, as far away as he could have gotten in the short time, the bat released the trapped air and gasped for fresh breath, for once glad the air was cold and mountainously pure.

The only thing left to do was to get rid of the arrows, and Brandon began with planting them in the ground, pointy end down, feathers up. After three or so he realized it was pretty pointless, especially since those shafts could be broken easily and the steel could be dug up or pulled out within the chime. Well then... he'd just burn them. Problem; he had no flint and steel with him. A solution presented itself in the form of the steel tips of the arrows though, and the bat started stacking all but two of the projectiles like he would do with firewood. Then, he slammed the two steel tips into each other, hoping to create some sparks. It didn't. It wasn't like there didn't appear any sparks at first, no, there just didn't form any sparks at all. He tried it with one of his daggers and an arrow then, but still no success. Two daggers failed as well.

Lastly, the Kelvic tried rotating one arrow's shaft rapidly onto the other -after having made a small, circular indentation in the latter- but the only thing he achieved was a lot of smoke. Only smoke, no flames. Even when he continued spinning the arrow, all he ever got was smoke. In the end he just gave up, dug a hole, broke the steel heads off of the shafts and buried them. There. Done. Solved. He threw the collection of wood onto the ground in frustration and stomped off, deciding he'd continue his walk. This time he did check his position and direction like he was supposed to, and headed further south.

Continued in More Unexpected Work

Credit goes to Engghaen

[Dove Brown]

Your Grades!
Brought to you on the wings of a Dove!

Please remember to edit your grading request. If you have any questions, comments or concerns regarding your grade, please do not hesitate to send me a PM.

Name: Brandon Blackwing
XP Award:

• Climbing 2
• Land Navigation 2
• Stealth 1
• Gardening 1
• Organisation 1
• Weapon: Dagger 1
• Wilderness Survival 1

Lore:

• Land Navigation: orienting yourself by the sun's position
• Too hot springs mean cold stream baths
• Land navigation: use the sun, but don't follow it
• A smell from Dira: roses beneath death and decay
• Eiyon: calmness around death
• Dead creatures provide plants with nutrition
• Gut wounds kill slowly and painfully
• Giving a death stroke to a wounded Zith

Notes: I enjoyed reading this. Now to find where it continues.


Name: Raguna
XP Award:

• Example 1
• Example 2

Lore:

• Example 1
• Example 2

Notes: Grade withheld due to inactivity and an unapproved CS.