Wildgrowth Forest

So much darkness...

Night had fallen over Wildgrowth Forest. The cool of the eve settling over the trees. The forests' inhabitants were growing quieter. Some going to sleep beneath the curled and cracked trunks of the ancient giants that stood watch over the black of night. A lone shadow moved with the swiftness of a creature on a mission. Golden-red eyes watching.

Waiting.

Hunting.

It stopped to stare at the moon which glinted off its silken fur. Razor-sharp fangs reflected the light of the cold orb that hung low in the sky. Its ears twitched towards a sound deeper in the woods. Claws extended and it bolted across the flat ground on all fours. Snarling as it chased its prey. Poor lone human. Who knew why this young male was so far from home? Perhaps he was an orphan. The hunter didn't care. He hadn't fed in a good two days. Food was getting scarce in the deeper recesses of the forest. He continued on his chase of the young male.

You have no chance.

Before his change. he would have perhaps found this pitiful. Maybe even taken pity on the little thing. But Raca felt no remorse. This was merely the hunt. The death would be swift. Painless, perhaps. Depending on how much the human put up a fight. The wolf smirked. Still a trace of his previous life. Before, everything had been different. Not now. Not with this... disease as some liked to call it. Lycanthropy was no disease. It was a new lease on life. It gave him so much strength. So what if he had to sacrifice his previous life for it. So what if he had to do things people deemed immoral and downright disgusting. What could this one do to defend itself? Nothing. Absolutely nothing and it was glorious. He even slowed down to let the boy run faster and tire himself out. The tracks showed that he was slowing down. Tripping over his own feet, panting. He could hear the breath almost or was it his mind playing tricks.

Then he pounced. Slamming his prey against the ground, digging his claws into the fresh kill. Painless as he broke its neck and began to feed. He threw up his head and howled long at the moon.

Having eaten my bread, I have traveled two days on foot towards the forrest. I am eager to try my new bow. It is of high qaulity wood. The bow strength is not the usual 75lb / 25lb pull / push. This bow is more like 150lb / 50lb. This bow was custom made for very strong archers. The arrow heads are made of wrought iron. No doubt, this bow was made for hunting very large game.

My eye catches the site of some flint on the ground. I pick them up and put them in my pocket. They will come in handy for making a fire. I see signs of deer tracks. I spot my prey. twenty yards away. I line my shaft, and sight my target. The arrrow flies straight. The deer is hit in the side. Frantic, the deer bolts into the forrest. I missed his heart otherwise he would of dropped dead in seconds. I chase after the deer deeper into the woods.

It was a good hunt. I now sit by a warm fire. My upper body is wrapped in deer skin. It is now night. I reach over the fire pit, and tear a leg of deer meat from the spit I made from tree limbs. I am rewarded for my afternoon's efforts with the savory taste of pit cooked deer meet. I had spent several hours cleaning the deer, building the pit, and cooking the meat. Not a moment too soon had passed for I had grown hungry.

I hear a owl in the trees. I imagine the owl sitting on my wrist. Almost as if by magic, the owl flies from the tree adjacent to me, and lands on my shoulder. It was as if the deer had read my mind. I began to feed the owl some deer meat. I concentrate my thought on the owl leaving and going back to the trees. The owl reads my mind and does it.

Sholtly after the owl leaves, I here the growlings of a large grizzly bear. The bear aproaches me. I telepathiclly motion for the bear to sit, and I will feed him. The bear obeys. I begin petting the bear. He eventually goes to sleep.

"So," I say to mysely, "I don't know who I am, or where I come from, but I small degree of telepathic abillity." I make a decision to ride the bear into town tomorrow. I will take the bear with me as added protection. I slowly drift to sleep.

"Tch, savages."

*The horse shook his primly-cut mane with a snort, as if in agreement. The tree-dwelling Erdaran were hospitable enough, she supposed, but they were so primitive. They had none of the culture or refinement of the fine Silbarans, or the technology and education that their advanced cities had to offer even the lowliest of clan families.

Isis tossed her own silver-white hair in mimicry of the steed she rode, her gray eyes rolling with distaste. These tedious ventures into the wild were becoming more frequent, as a steady rise in realm conflicts and strange happenings told the elves that dark powers were rising. Though Isis hardly felt the Erdarans were any better than the Vorlorans themselves, the wild elves still chose to align themselves with the silver when the goddess Quetzaya began flooding their homes with her corrupting influence. As a member of one of the leading Silbaran clans, Isis was often sent as an emissary to ensure the security of loyalties.

As the daylight that filtered through the upper canopy began to fade to crimson gold, the Silbaran pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted. She took a moment to remove the packs and her longbow from his flank, then patted his hindquarters so that he knew he was free to graze. The lanky woman fell to a seated position against the trunk of a tree and picked up a stick idly, inspecting it for its possibility of fletching for an arrow. Though the day was growing dark, she did not bother with a fire. Despite all of her nose-wrinkling at the "savage tree-dwellers," Isis, too, was an elf, and the natural order of the woods sang in her blood just as strongly as it did them. She was as at home on the bed of moss as she was on silk and feathers. She hummed quietly to herself as she took her gladius from her hip and began sharpening the stick.*

*The soft melody was lyricless, but definitive, her tone carrying confidently on the breeze that was drifting in from the cooling night. As the shadows began to deepen, the Silbaran's skin almost seemed to brighten in contrast to the darkening forest, the silver sheen giving off a moon-like luminescence.

Then, the humming stopped, and her relaxed features hardened into an expression that suggested they were comfortable with the stern appearance. She lowered the freshly-notched arrow in her hand and glanced side-long towards her horse, grazing not far off. Her mount flicked his ears, once, seemingly unconcerned with the world around him.*

"Worthless beast..."

*Isis muttered under her breath, then rose her voice, speaking towards the formless shadows not far behind her back.*

"I know someone lurks, here. A thief, is it? Well, steal all you like, I'll only be taking it back from your corpse shortly after."

*She stood smoothly, hefting the gladius in her hand as she squinted into the dark. Her night vision was good, but it was nothing like that of the Lost Elves, and she could not see beyond the suggestion of a silhouette. An Erdaran, most like, some primitive bandit that didn't have the sense Cera gave him. She cocked one brow arrogantly, more than confident in her abilities to take out a single clod of an elf.*

*Rulkim stays still for a few moments more, before speaking in his typical gruff voice. Though he does not approach closely, the orc steps out of the gloom enough to be seen, holding his spear as a walking stick.

Big words from a little elf. You've wandered far from your fancy city haven't you, Silbaran?

*The figure that emerged would have the satisfaction of seeing Isis jerk back in surprise, but so, too, did her fine straight nose wrinkle in distaste.*

"Eyuh, an Orc?"

*Without the light of day, his skin seemed as dark as hers was pale. She was thrown off balance by his unexpected appearance, a far larger foe than the one she had been expecting. She started to raise the gladius in her hand defensively, but thought better of it as her eyes shifted to the polearm he held. She lowered her own weapon to her side, though there was something cavalier about the way she stood with her shoulders pushed back and her chin tucked.*

"I dare say you're a fair distance away from home yourself, ruffian. But you might as well keep moving."

*She arched a brow wryly.*

"...I don't own a thing that could fit a beastie your size."

*The orc narrows his eyes and he watches the elf, showing his own signs of distaste.*

Home? Just like a prissy elf, not everyone sticks themselves away in their fancy polished cities. Erdeor is my home, I go where the winds take me. Why don't you scamper back to your marble towers and leave the wild to those who are suited for it. You don't even have a single thing worth stealing aside from the fresh meat.

*Rulkim jerks his head towards her horse.*

*Temper flared in her eyes at the insult, and she closed the distance between them in two angry strides. Her leather armor nearly collided with his chest as she snarled up at him.*

"It's a big forest, Orc, and yet you chose to come across my path. Why don't you go do what nomads do best, and wander off?"

*She waved the gladius in air towards the distance for added emphasis. She had no patience for Ralaeth-worshipping heathens such as his kind. A sudden flash of light lit the almost-black skies above them, accompanied by a crack of thunder. Isis had been so put off by the unwelcome visitor that she hadn't realized the darkness rolling in above the canopy of trees had been a bank of storm clouds.

She hissed a Silbaran curse through her teeth and turned to hastily gather her pack, then whistled for her horse. There was an enclave of boulders and ancient fallen trees nearby that would keep the horse dry, should the skies break. There would be no stars for her tonight. Somehow, she managed to work this around in her head as being the orc's fault.*

*Rulkim bares his tusks as he laughs*

And miss the sport of taking whatever night predator comes for bait as helpless as a lost little elf? What sort of hunter would I be to walk away from a baited area. Besides, I turn my back and you will put an arrow in it. I know how you elves are. No, if anyone is going to move on it will be you.

"Suit yourself!"

*The overly-exaggerated chipperness was followed by a hard toss of her hip-long tail of hair, and she clicked her tongue at the horse to get the mammal moving along. She muttered under her breath in less polite tones.*

"...Hope he drowns in this storm."

*Another flash of light lit up the forest floor in an eerie white glow before blinding darkness returned. By the time she had reached the nearby enclave of boulders, the first fat drops of rain began to fall. She guided her reluctant mount beneath the shallow enclosure by keeping a firm grip on his reins.*

"...Stupid horse, move your hooves. Would you rather be orc fodder?"

*Shaking his head at the the elf's typical attitude, the orc settles in to ride out the storm. Raised in a culture less reliant on shelter, Rulkim doesn't bother seeking out shelter. Rather he trudges to the nearest somewhat open area, lays down his spear, and squats near to the ground as the rain falls around him. Quietly he mutters.*

Elves.

*On hearing the sounds of fighting in the distance, Rulkim quickly grabs his spear and stands. Recognizing the chatter of goblins, the orc quickly sets off in the direction of the fray. Fool elf had gone and found trouble, frankly he wasn't surprised. Moving quickly through the woods, it does not take the orc long to find the running battle. Leaping into the melee before the goblins knew he was on them gave a definite advantage. Thrusting with his long spear, Rulkim lifted one goblin completely off the ground and flung it at another. The second goblin, knocked over by his former comrade, quickly tried to scramble to his feet but Rulkim was faster. A quick blow from the butt of the spear easily crushed the goblins skull.*

Didn't I say you were going to draw sport?

*As her short sword slashed towards a goblin that had been diving towards her, the Silbaran wasn't certain if she felt relief or irritation at the sudden ferocious appearance of the damnable orc. But the moment he spoke, she had her answer.

Irritation. Definitely irritation.

She grunted as her leg kicked impossibly high, cracking against the jaw of one of the leaping little cretins. She plunged her blade into the flesh of another as, instinctively, she maneuvered her own position to cover Rulkim's broad backside.*

"Ugh, you're still here? I'd just as soon have the goblins for company."

*Enemy claws that scrabbled at her armor managed to find a weak spot, drawing deep gashes across her neck and face.The gladius sliced through raindrops and goblin flesh alike as she thrust forward again with a grace that could only be born from the formal training of a fencer. She had to admit, when she was able to catch glimpses behind her, the orc fought like a demon. Despite their numbers, the dozen or so goblins were dispatched in quick order, leaving them in a virtual field of corpses.

The moment the last goblin had fallen from the tip of her blade, the Silbaran turned sharply to face the orc with a stiff jaw. She ought to have said thank you, but she couldn't quite stomach uttering the words to this condescending brute, so she threw out a weak retort instead.*

"I could have taken care of them myself."

*She turned away with far more bravado than she felt, tightening the grip on her blade to hide the trembling of her hands. She took a tentative step away, then stopped when she stumbled, her shock-weakened legs refusing to hold her weight.*

*Rulkim scoffs at her statement as he wipes the gore from his spear*

You did better than I expected from a fancy little elf, but let's not fool ourselves. Little monsters don't attack unless they know they have good chances of success. Like it or not, you are lucky there was a ruffian around. I suggest you get up, there are bound to be more of them out there and they just love wounded prey.

*Reaching to his belt, Rulkim pulls free a scrap of cloth and begins to wipe down the worst of his own cuts.*

"I know that."

*She snapped at him, flicking wet strands of hair from her vision, but her thoughts were on the horse she had lost. Dumb animal. Poor dumb animal. She covered her eyes with one palm, tears mixing in with the rainwater on her metallic cheeks. She pushed herself back upright, then, collecting herself quickly.

When she glanced at the orc, she winced, as though from physical pain.*

"For Cera's sake. Here..."

*She was suddenly too close to him, and she reached up to press her hand not un-gently against his collarbone below the nape of his neck. A warm glow ebbed from her palm as she spoke the arcane word for 'lay on hands.' The Paladin's mild-healing seemed to satisfy her in some strange way more so than the orc, and she dropped her hand.

The elf adjusted the bow over her shoulder and began slogging through the mud, heading what she innately knew to be due North.*

*Growling quietly to himself, Rulkim shakes his head and starts after the elf. Why the spirits had placed him on this path, he did not know.*

I will travel with you for now. This area smells of violence and larger predators will come to investigate. It is safer in a group.

"If it makes you feel safer."

*Her teeth flashed in the darkness, just briefly. Truth be told, the idea of travelling alone in these goblin-infested woods was terribly unappealing, even if the alternative was a barbarian with a scornful lip. She slowed until he had caught up to her, then kept pace with the orc.*

"...I'm Isis Ariyth of the Highborn."

*She raised a fist to her mouth, silently clearing her throat of the knot of pride that was lodged there.*

"...Thanks. For..you know."

*She jerked her head back in the direction they had come from.*

*Rulkim regards Isis only briefly before turning turning his attention back to the woods around them and speaking.*

Highborn? Of course you are. Elves may be annoying, but I hate goblins. Filthy little monsters, at least they break easily. Shame about the horse.

*Her expression hardened again, her chin lifting.*

"I suppose that was supposed to pass as manners for you, Orc? Yes, I regret the horse. He had good breeding."

*She looked away from him then, concentrating on the sense of indignation rather than loss. Gods be good, this savage was infuriating.*

*Rulkim does not respond immediately. Elves could be so touchy.*

It is considered honesty. You may not like it, but you know the mind of the person you travel with. It prevents misunderstandings. Where do you travel to?

*She glanced at him, then shook her head, as though having an internal argument with her own thoughts.*

"Lyramore. I have made this trek many times in recent months."

*And though it was not always uneventful, this had been the first that she had seen the goblins attack so fearlessly. Cowardly creatures by nature, they rarely traveled far from their burrows in large numbers. Her mouth pulled down in a thoughtful frown before it returned to that snide sneer that seemed to rest so comfortably on her silver lips.*

"And is it not also considered honest to give your name, that I must instead be forced to ask for it? Or don't Orc mothers give their brood names?"

*The elf raised a valid point. He'd been out of socieity, even orc society, for too long.*

Don't presume to know my people. I am Rulkim Ice-Shod.