Setting
Default Location for Across the Wilds
Minimap
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north |
northeast |
west |
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east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
Tabitha is a part of 
Across the Wilds.
10 Characters Here
Lady Gwen [23] "I am not an Elf!"
Taur Yamarak [22] "Careful pup - I may be short, but so are your shins."
Cassandra Castillon [21] "By this sword, I swear my undying loyalty to the Prince."
Callon Agarwaenor [21] "Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt."
Adonis Huraines [21] "The Fool and the Dog off to slay the dragon. Wonderful."
Alaine Rivers [21] 'Never put your trust in a thief, we'll steal your money and your heart.'
Aeron Gwyn Demyan [21] "When death claims me- and it shall, with time- I will evade it and subject it to my feet. But, for now, I shall live for the moment and succeed."
Herne Fitch [19] See that pretty flower, it's Oleander...don't eat it.
Bellona Shield [19] "I was raised to protect the royal family. If I cannot do this much, then what is the point of me?"
O'Malley [17] "The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience."
Start Character Here »
Taur relaxed against the wood at the sound of the bark, and lightly turned his head to a sight not often seen by the man; a wolf much larger than any he had ever seen was, for some reason, deciding to stand at the edge of the clearing for no apparent reason. It took him a while to deduce that the monstrocity was probably the werewolf that had been Bellona; Taur had only heard of werewolves in folklore from back home, and in whispering in the forest. According to the history he had accumulated, there were few werewolves left - apparently, there had been more when he was a pup, which had always confused him to no end. But it mattered not, the wolf was clearly focused on Herne, ready to hunt.
Taur turned back to see the Prince frozen in place, a bemused smirk coming to his eyes before speaking. ”You gunna drop your gear or are you too busy admiring the view?” It wasn't a loud comment, and he certainly had no need to put any form of bitterness or anger into the statement; it just came off as a light tease, maybe a bit rude if the context was seriously delved upon. Cassandra was the next to drop off her weaponry, the silence she gave him was only broken by the weaponry she dropped. In honesty, he enjoyed her style of approach the most; the silent acceptance of the fact that he would look at them, and the briskness of her posture. He could see himself enjoying somebody that appreciated silence; well, he also was quite eager to see the weapon that even to his hut rumors had been created. Apparently, it could harness the powers of the wind - whether or not that was true didn't matter, it meant an enchantment had been placed on the blade, and Taur was intrigued by its nature.
However, his intrigue was broken by the loud speech of his pupil, Aeron. He kept talking about a certain dagger that had been giving him troubles, and Taur huffed in annoyance. Already, a red flag had been raised simply because the man was coming towards him with the handle outstretched and with gloves on. However, Aeron was a crafty lad, so Taur knew that his warning signs may be wrong - maybe the kid was just trying to pull his leg. However, he knew he couldn't be too cautious around a fellow that was raised by a nymph. Raising his large hands, he gripped the knife with two fingers by the hilt and took it from his pupil's hand, to instantly notice that the hilt was a little odd; something greasy on it. ”Hm..” Taur turned away to examine the knife with the firelight, pensive until he understood that his hunches were always right. Turning back, he flung the knife toward the closest tree in a quick motion, and the dull thud of impact rang through his ears. ”Seems to be a little greasy around the hilt - must be your sweaty hands again, Aeron. No wonder you're wearing gloves.” Taur gave his pupil a sideways glance, guessing that within a few minutes his fingers would start to redden with irritation; the boy was a crafty lad after all, even if a little too much so.
After giving Aeron another stare of annoyance - his fingers were beginning to become irritated, and he hated the fact that he had been duped - before turning to the weaponry on the ground. Reaching not far, Taur grabbed the blade he assumed to be the mortal one, and began to unsheath it. It's clear steel caught the fire and reflected its light as he tilted the blade during its unsheathing. Every inch was examined until the blade was fully unclothed, shimmering in the firelight; if Taur had been anything other than a dwarf, he probably would have been blinded after a few tilts of the blade. Make no mistake, the craftsmanship was quite well done, and he found himself giving a grunt following a stern nod. ”Good blade. Well polished and taken care of.” Taur continued to tilt the blade until he moved to the hilt, and then back again. He began to spin it, testing its weight all while continuing the assessment. ”Weight's good. The angles throughout are odd, but it is still a good blade for a human smith. Although...” He began to slow down the swings until he came to the connection between the blade and the hilt, staring at it annoyingly - something was bugging him about it, and he wouldn't stop staring until it came to him. ”Connection between the blade and the sword could be better - it will survive against many things, but it may come loose against opponents that are harder than steel.” He began to sheath the blade as he concluded his speech. ”Can't do anything for it, though - I would need a proper forge to examine it more properly and figure out the proper fix. Overall, a solid human weapon.”
He let it go softly to the ground and turned his attention to the weapon he truly cared for; the one that seemed to call to him. He had only heard rumors of the enchanted weapon, and he would be able to see for himself. Gently lifting the sword, he stared at the scabbard, investigating the patterns. There was something off about them that he couldn't place, something familiar. Grabbing the pommel, he slowly extracted the blade, and - Taur hates to admit it, but it happened - his eyes widened slightly. The blade was beautifully crafted, the guard was consistent with the materials throughout and connected the blade to the rest of the hilt with a sturdy yet elegant hold. But there was a whispering in the wind as he withdrew the blade, and he could feel it; this blade had been enchanted by the men of old, there was no denying it. To an enchanter, this blade sang songs of the past, ones that had been learned back in dwarven strongholds as fairy tales. Taur extracted the full blade, and muttered something in a low language not known by many or any at all in this world any longer. He swung the blade once before suddenly pushing it back within the scabbard. He quickly turned his gaze over to the Red Knight, his expression hard.
”By whose authority were you given this blade?” His eyes were hard, yet there was a hint of wonder and intrigue dancing within. After she gave her answer, Taur explained himself. ”Years ago, humans wishing to further their ability to shape metal voyaged to dwarven strongholds throughout the lands. We taught them our trade, our finesse, our methods until they became on par with many of our own expert smithers. Yet they had their own methods, influenced by the elves and their own cultures in their craft.” A long pause was emitted by the dwarf before he continued, his eyes more in intrigue. ”This style and level of craftsmanship is of them; it is obvious as the moon itself. Yet it also carries another trait - an enchantment of wind.” Taur began to pace a little before stopping to look back. ”One of the few human enchanters must have forged this blade, yet he knew not of exactly what he was doing. The enchantment was added too late to the forging; hence the reason as to its instability. I can sense that you yourself can not wield it presently.” Taur said nothing as he handed the blade back to Cassandra personally instead of setting it down.
”I can do nothing to a blade with such an enchantment without altering much of the blade itself. There are a few things that come to mind, but I shall keep those to myself for now.” Taur gave her the weapon and turned himself around, not saying another word. Before returning to the tree, Taur turned to the thief and the prince, who stood (or in the Prince's case, froze) a few feet from him in different directions. ”Let's see what the armory gave you then.” His voice was directed towards the thief before he turned to the Prince. ”If you wish for me to look at what appears to be a dull blade, your Highness, I suggest you stop staring at your companion.” The pirate hadn't approached yet, which was fine by him: if she didn't want anything done, then she would simply have to trust her own blade.
As quickly as night had fallen it seemed to fade away, the bright orange sun returning to the sky. But the company of heroes were up before the burning ball, packing up and munching on fruits found nearby, replenishing their water supply. Again, there was tension as they mounted up and continued on north. The tunnels that lay ahead of them caused worry, though Gwen herself was most worried for the Prince among a few others. She did her best to retain hope, having a sliver of faith in their abilities. Just looking at the cave made her quiver some, as it was a path that she herself had only traveled once. She had encountered a number of dangers within and was not keen on having to ever take the path again. But here she was. She had dressed herself in large and tough, almost leather leaves that wrapped about her body from her toes to her neck and fit comfortably. Dark hair pulled back, she followed behind Callon and Taur while Adonis was behind her with Cassandra and Bellona on either side of him, the others bringing up the flank.
They were greeted by darkness and an eerie, screaming silence. A shiver went down the nymph's back as she tightened the grip on her reigns, using her heels to lightly nudge Cúnes further in. She said nothing, feeling that the sound of the walking animals and their breathing was already too much noise. She was poised to attack, listening for any foreign sound of movement, her eyes adjusting to the dark to catch shadows. The light they had was dim and she was sure that the others were just as nervous as she was. But minutes had passed into three hours and all seemed well enough. Though it wasn't enough for her to loosen up. She flinched at every small rock that fell, grinding her teeth with every creature that flew by, disturbed by the strangers in their tunnels.
She estimated that if they broke into a gallop they could be to the other side in no time. Her lips parted to speak and no sooner had she uttered a sound did a spear fly through the air, grazing her right cheek and landing in the wall. Cries of battle rang out from both sides as Kobolds seemed to emerge from the walls. They weren't a pretty sight; They were short creatures of dry and leathery flesh ranging from shades of green and brown with bright yellow eyes, sharp rows of teeth, hooked noses, and vicious claws on their hands and feet. Lacking ears, they relied heavily on scent and exceptional sight when hunting. The loincloth clad beasts screamed and leapt at the intruders, brandishing stones and spears. While they seemed unintelligent and tact less they were twice as strong as the average man, accurate, agile, and absolutely beastly. Gwen was among the first to react, drawing her bow and an arrow. With little effort she found her mark, burying the arrow deep into the skull of a creature, stopping it midflight.
She had to protect the others. Her children. The Prince. Her dear friends Callon and Taur. She would never forgive herself if they died in these wretched tunnels. Seeming calm and collected on the outside, she fired arrow after arrow, often pausing to use her bow to beat down the vile vermin. Hisses, screams, and squeals filled the tunnels and echoed off the earthen walls. The giant tigress joined the fray, her massive claws coming out to shed blood as she crushed the small things underfoot. Gwen had to breathe a sigh of relief that the horses were battle trained, handling the situation by fighting back. Though some, she felt, stayed out of loyalty to their riders. It was touching but she had no time to marvel at the bonds. She had to fight for their lives with them. None of them would die. Not if she had anything to do with it. She remained silent, focused only on eliminating the threat, often looking to assure everyone else was fine, which it seemed that way.
They were greeted by darkness and an eerie, screaming silence. A shiver went down the nymph's back as she tightened the grip on her reigns, using her heels to lightly nudge Cúnes further in. She said nothing, feeling that the sound of the walking animals and their breathing was already too much noise. She was poised to attack, listening for any foreign sound of movement, her eyes adjusting to the dark to catch shadows. The light they had was dim and she was sure that the others were just as nervous as she was. But minutes had passed into three hours and all seemed well enough. Though it wasn't enough for her to loosen up. She flinched at every small rock that fell, grinding her teeth with every creature that flew by, disturbed by the strangers in their tunnels.
She estimated that if they broke into a gallop they could be to the other side in no time. Her lips parted to speak and no sooner had she uttered a sound did a spear fly through the air, grazing her right cheek and landing in the wall. Cries of battle rang out from both sides as Kobolds seemed to emerge from the walls. They weren't a pretty sight; They were short creatures of dry and leathery flesh ranging from shades of green and brown with bright yellow eyes, sharp rows of teeth, hooked noses, and vicious claws on their hands and feet. Lacking ears, they relied heavily on scent and exceptional sight when hunting. The loincloth clad beasts screamed and leapt at the intruders, brandishing stones and spears. While they seemed unintelligent and tact less they were twice as strong as the average man, accurate, agile, and absolutely beastly. Gwen was among the first to react, drawing her bow and an arrow. With little effort she found her mark, burying the arrow deep into the skull of a creature, stopping it midflight.
She had to protect the others. Her children. The Prince. Her dear friends Callon and Taur. She would never forgive herself if they died in these wretched tunnels. Seeming calm and collected on the outside, she fired arrow after arrow, often pausing to use her bow to beat down the vile vermin. Hisses, screams, and squeals filled the tunnels and echoed off the earthen walls. The giant tigress joined the fray, her massive claws coming out to shed blood as she crushed the small things underfoot. Gwen had to breathe a sigh of relief that the horses were battle trained, handling the situation by fighting back. Though some, she felt, stayed out of loyalty to their riders. It was touching but she had no time to marvel at the bonds. She had to fight for their lives with them. None of them would die. Not if she had anything to do with it. She remained silent, focused only on eliminating the threat, often looking to assure everyone else was fine, which it seemed that way.
Callon had been early to bed and early to rise. It certainly wasn't because he was tired, for the young elf was never quick to tire. Rather, he decided it best to not engage in the conversations the others were holding. Callon hardly felt comfortable with any of the adventurers. Gwen was, truly, the only exception, but he realized quite early just how popular the nymph was. Regardless, he cared little. It was not like he would miss the social interaction anyway. A few months without socializing was nothing compared to one hundred forty-seven years without it. He would survive.
The elf woke relatively early, hoping to have some time alone to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately, it seemed that the others had a very similar idea. Though he cared little for talking with the others, he did not mind listening in on the surrounding conversations as he chewed thoughtfully on an apple, legs crossed and on the ground. When they finally saddled up for the day, he was far too eager to mount his horse.
Callon sat in his own, self-created bubble of awkward silence as the group moved forward. He moved his horse slowly and poorly, hands too tight on the reins to the point where Alya suddenly yanked her head forward to reclaim some slack on the leather bridle and reins. He brought up the front, along with Taur, for the elf knew where he was going, and Taur knew the tunnels. Waking early had provided the elf with enough time to study his maps well.
The young elf had taken care to wear his leather armor over the tunic and leggings he had on since he had no idea what would greet them within the tunnels. As they passed into the large mouth of the tunnel, Callon frowned and looked back over his shoulder. He was unsure how he'd cope with the lack of nature around himself. Sure, he would survive. It just felt odd to venture somewhere without trees. Even in his campaigns, there had been trees. The time passed slowly, but it passed, and the hours blended together until he felt that they would never leave the dark and dank prison. Callon might have relaxed had a spear not zipped past his nose, cutting the tip slightly.
For a moment, he sat atop Alya in shock. As the beats came into view, however, he was quick to grab his bow and string it. With a deft movement, an arrow shot through the eyeball of one creature, erupted from the back of its skull, and lodged itself again into another beast's cheek. Callon turned sharply in his saddle, sending another arrow flying across the cavern into the gut of a jumping Kobold. Between his legs, Ayla whinnied and pawed anxiously at the ground for a moment or two before calming slowly. Standing in his stirrups now, Callon had a better view of the enemy. This time, he placed two arrows against the wooden piece of his yew bow and let them fly into the chests of two approaching Kobolds. There were so many...but he prayed that the King had chosen well and picked fighters skilled enough to make it through this, for if they couldn't, how could they rescue the Queen?
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