| |
Darkseeker
|
Elariel Quercus Warrior | Mentions: Ivan, Cornaith Indirectly: Catori, Koa Elariel turned as his nephew approached, his sharp green eyes softening briefly at the sight of Ivan. “We’re ready then?” he asked, his voice low and measured, betraying none of the lingering exhaustion he felt. He dipped his head toward Catori in a gesture of goodbye as Koa appeared. He motioned toward the shadowed treeline, the dense canopy of branches above casting dappled light across the ground. “We’ll take the path through the grove,” he said, his tone firm but quiet, as though unwilling to disturb the tranquil stillness that lingered over the clearing. With a glance over his shoulder at Ivan and Cornaith, Elariel started toward the trees, his movements fluid but purposeful. The air grew cooler as they approached the edge of the grove, the sunlight fading into a softer, more diffuse glow beneath the dense foliage. The earthy scent of moss and damp wood filled the air, mingling with the faint chirping of hidden insects. Elariel paused just inside the grove, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings, taking in the familiar shapes of the towering oaks and the scattered shafts of moonlight filtering through the canopy. A faint mist hugged the ground in patches, swirling gently around their ankles as if guiding them deeper. The grove felt alive. In all his years, he hadn’t felt energy like this before. “This stretch should be quiet,” Elariel murmured, his voice a low, measured hum, barely audible above the faint rustle of leaves overhead. The calm in his tone belied the caution in his words, each syllable deliberate, as though he were speaking directly to the grove itself. His sharp green eyes, catching the dim, light filtering through the canopy, shifted towards the other two. ”Stay sharp. Even familiar paths can hold surprises.” As they pressed deeper into the grove, the air grew cooler, and the shadows thickened. The sunlight that had dappled the ground near the clearing was now a memory, swallowed by the towering trees and their interwoven branches. The trunks stood like silent sentinels, their bark darkened with age and dampness, while the underbrush grew denser, brushing against their boots with every step. Elariel paused briefly, tilting his head upward to observe the fading shafts of light. If not for witnessing the sunrise with his own eyes, he might have sworn they’d wandered into night’s domain. The pervasive dimness cloaked their surroundings in an otherworldly hush, broken only by the occasional crackle of twigs underfoot or the distant chirrup of unseen insects. “Let’s keep to the left fork,” he said after a moment, his voice cutting softly through the quiet. His hand raised slightly, motioning toward a trail marked by faintly trodden earth and overgrown roots. “It’s the quickest route to the northern ridge.” Without waiting for confirmation, he pressed forward, his focus sharp and unwavering as the grove’s shadows seemed to deepen around them. Small, glowing orbs of soft, golden light drifted lazily through the thickened shadows, like tiny stars fallen from the sky. They hovered and swayed, their faint illumination casting dappled patterns onto the forest floor. Occasionally, one would drift closer, pulsing gently as if alive, before floating away to join its companions in the quiet dance among the trees. Blooms of pale, luminous flowers unfurled from the underbrush, their petals glowing faintly in shades of white, blue, and lavender. These blossoms seemed to thrive in the dim light, their radiance creating a dreamlike contrast against the dark, gnarled roots and moss-covered stones. Each step brought a new wave of fragrance—hints of jasmine, honey, and something else entirely, a scent both foreign and comforting, as though the grove itself were breathing life into the air. The grove had always been a quiet haven, a place of stillness and familiarity, but now it felt alive in a way that set his nerves on edge. The air was heavy, not with menace, but with the weight of something ancient and unspoken, as though the grove were holding its breath, watching them pass. Elariel’s jaw tightened as he tried to make sense of it while pushing on. The forest’s energy was neither welcoming nor hostile; it simply was—a force unto itself, vast and unyielding. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Eryndor Nythen Gatherer | Mentions: Indirectly: Clan The first light of dawn filtered through the canopy, painting the forest floor in soft shades of gold and green. Eryndor stirred at the sound of distant birdsong, a gentle reminder of the day ahead. He stretched, feeling the cool morning air seep through the cracks of his modest home, and rose to prepare for the tasks awaiting him. Outside, the village was beginning to wake, the faint clatter of tools and murmured greetings breaking the silence of the early hour. Eryndor stepped into the crisp air, the lingering scent of woodsmoke and dew sharpening his senses. Adjusting the strap of his satchel—packed the night before with tools and supplies—he made his way toward the forest’s edge, where he would begin his morning search for fresh herbs and small game. As he passed through the clearing, his sharp cyan eyes caught the patrol preparing to depart for their early rounds. Eryndor offered them a brief nod of acknowledgement, his attention briefly lingering on Catori speaking with Koa at the far end of the clearing. Nearby, Cyrus approached the woman who had stared him down the night before, her posture tense but composed. Further off, Elariel and his chosen companions disappeared into the shadows of the trees towards the Moonlit Grove, their movements brisk and purposeful. The rest of the Clan still lay in slumber, their silence a reminder of the calm before another demanding day. With a soft exhale, Eryndor turned on his heel, quickening his pace as he entered the woods, putting distance between himself and the morning patrol. His bow and quiver, strapped securely to his back, shifted slightly with each step. The cool embrace of the forest wrapped around him, the familiar scent of earth and greenery grounding him as he began his trek deeper into the wild. The early light filtered through the canopy above, creating shifting patterns of gold and green on the forest floor. Eryndor’s scanned the terrain, catching the telltale signs of movement—fresh prints in the damp soil, a flash of fur in the underbrush. He paused near a thicket, kneeling to inspect the tracks of a hare. A faint smile tugged at his lips. It wasn’t much, but it would do for the morning's hunt. He moved with practiced ease, each step light and deliberate as he followed the trail. The forest came alive around him, the rustle of leaves and chirping of birds creating a serene symphony. Eryndor’s focus sharpened as he read the subtle signs of the hare’s path, the thrill of the hunt mingling with his reverence for the life he sought. This was his rhythm, his purpose—a quiet dance with the wilderness that reminded him of his place within the Clan’s greater balance. Drawing his bow as he neared a small clearing, he stilled his breath, his gaze locked on the hare grazing in the tall grass ahead. The moment stretched, a delicate thread connecting him to his target and the forest itself. Then, with a steady hand, he loosed the arrow. It was always hard to kill a hare. The keening cries they made as life slipped away sent an icy shiver through Eryndor’s spine, no matter how many times he’d heard them. He crouched beside the lifeless creature, his hands already slick with blood as he worked quickly, his movements efficient yet reverent. Murmured words escaped his lips, a prayer of gratitude to the rabbit for its sacrifice and to the spirits of the land for their provision. He bowed his head briefly, pressing his bloodstained fingers to the earth, a gesture of offering and balance. The act was more than ritual—it was a reminder of the life he’d taken and the responsibility it carried. As he finished his task, Eryndor carefully wrapped the rabbit in cloth and tucked it into his satchel. Rising to his feet, he glanced around the quiet clearing, scanning the trees for any other signs of movement. The forest seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, he felt the weight of its stillness—a quiet acknowledgment of what had just transpired. With a sigh, he adjusted his bow and set off again, deeper into the woods. The quiet hum of nature surrounded him, though his ears picked up every rustle and crackle in the underbrush. He stopped at a trickling stream, crouching low to rinse the blood from his hands. The cold water bit at his skin, but it carried away the sticky crimson, leaving behind only faint stains beneath his nails. He lingered, watching the ripples in the water dance with light. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Alvaerelle Wyzorwyn Queen Mentions: Cyrus (Dir) Other Warriors & Koa (Ind)
Her pointed ears would flicker back toward the slightest sound of blades of grass shifting and the earth crunching beneath heavy footed steps. Her gaze would slip from the gathered warriors catching a glimpse of warning or perhaps concern over her sleep from Koa before drawing her full attention toward the gruff vocals of a familiar male. Cyrus. Her lilac gaze would study him carefully, peering tastefully at the male though her facial expression seemed rather unamused. Offering a neighboring empty seat with the slight of her free hand she’d shift slightly at a minor twinge that had come about in her lower abdomen. “As well as I can nearing the third trimester I suppose,” she’d begin, “Good Morning, Cyrus. Surely, sleep must have found its way to you after such an eventful evening.” She’d remark, smirking only to shift her gaze from the male over towards the large group that had now began to splinter off. “Shouldn’t you be over there with them? Rather than providing me company?” She had hoped that her own assault against him was a suitable enough punishment to spare him the embarrassment of a demotion or worse. Though, as of late, The Elders have had very little forgiveness for much. In either case, she shouldn’t be particularly concerned with the state of his welfare. He was nothing but a potential suitor anyhow, if a suitor at all after the event of last night, though he did apologize though it did seem strained. She small huff of annoyance would escape her nostrils at the internalized conflict swirling about in her brain though attempted to draw her attention back upon the male and the conversation at hand. Her gaze would falter now and again searching to meet Ivan’s own greyish blue gaze prior to his departure, though perhaps being not only a bit late but also slightly winded would be enough for him to hone his focus on the task at hand. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Cyrus Terosh | Warrior | Mentions: Alvaerelle (Dir.) Ivan, Elariel, Catori, Clisteoeska, Akith’ki (Indir.) At the lift of her hand, Cyrus’s gaze shifted down to spot the space she was offering to him, he gladly took her up on the offer and settled beside her. He had not missed the calculating look she had given him upon his approach, not that he should expect anything different after the show he put on last night. With that thought came Alvaerelle’s comment on precisely that matter and he let out a soft grumble, roving his eyes down to the clearing by his feet. Cyrus lifted his eyes to catch sight of Elariel leading his group towards the tree line, that and a particularly interested Ivan that kept peeking in their direction. He would have to be a fool to miss the looks that the female and heir gave each other in passing, not to mention the words exchanged in glimpsed conversations. “I was not chosen for this morning's patrols.” His answer was simple and the reason why likely did not need to be aired out. Though for that matter, why Catori had slotted in Clisteoeska instead of himself into her patrol made little sense to him. He had caught the string of tension between the women the previous night, pulled taut and ready to snap. Cyrus tipped his head to the side to peer down at Alvaerelle, giving her the briefest scan before he focused on her pale eyes. “I doubt there will be anything interesting to find on patrol this morning, after last night’s noise and fire, all the prey will be miles away.” He paused and glanced sideways towards Catori as she swivelled her head around and caught sight of him. “That being said,” Amber eyes drew back to the female beside him. “It may have attracted more dangerous creatures.” Cyrus contemplated, it was true that the fires could have encouraged wandering groups to encroach and test their luck. He doubted with Elariel out along with Cornaith that the newcomers would stand a chance..well perhaps they would if they managed to get Ivan alone. He pushed away the particularly cruel train of thought and honed his mind back onto Alvaerelle, making a point to not look down at her arm. “Is your arm okay this morning?” This time when he spoke, Cyrus’s voice was quieter. Softer despite the natural roughness that it held, whether it was to keep his voice lowered to avoid calling the attention from others or from concern was up for debate. The previous night had been a long one for Cyrus. After his fiasco with both Alvaerelle and Elariel, his son had departed on the journey he had been preparing for his entire life. Though it was not worry that seeded his mind when it came to Akith’ki, no it was less emotional than that. It was a wonderment as to if his son was living up to his name and ensuring he rises to the top of the ranks. Cyrus had no doubt he would come back alive, but whether or not he had earned the right to live on as a warrior would be revealed upon his return. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Esen || Apprentice || M: Other Apprentices Yes, they must be quick. Spending all morning dawdling about would only result in the blazing sun growing hotter upon them, and they already lacked sufficient water. It was possible that they could dig a deep enough hole to reach underground sources, but that would have to be done at night or they'd risk losing what little there could be to evaporation. Esen shook those thoughts away, storing them to bring out later. For now, she would hunt. Despite her small size, she was quite adept at hunting, and she'd become a very efficient butcher. Even a large beast could be sorted and processed within a short time, but that wouldn't be happening today. Her cousin and Aelion were already off preparing salves and gathering plants, and that would not take long. Whatever anyone else was doing wouldn't last long enough for Esen to fashion good weapons for taking down bigger prey, so she would have to settle for the smaller creatures of the woods. The girl knelt down in the longer grasses that fringed the desert and got right to work braiding her slip traps. Nimble fingers moved quickly, and soon, she had three. Esen set them up near the dug out entrances at the feet of large trees and then began picking smooth stones for her sling. Whether or not her traps snared anything, the sling would get dinner. She jogged a little ways further into the woods, as far from the others as she could manage without breaking away from the group entirely. The slingshot was effective, but the resonating crack that came after forcefully releasing each stone could scare the prey for miles. Esen only hoped she'd be able to get a few good shots in before the forest went still. She crept through the foliage with light, catlike steps. Her ears twitched back and forth before pricking up at the soft grunts of a wild pig. She chewed her lip for a moment; was it worth the try? Pig skulls were notoriously hard, and even if she did shatter the front plate with the first stone, the creature wouldn't fall straight away. No, this pig would live another day. She needed something more fragile. Aha -- there, a young doe. Esen was mildly surprised to see one so near the desert, but the deer was still smaller-sized and tender and would be quite useful. She slipped a stone into her sling with a quick prayer and began whirring it around her head. The doe's ears flicked in her direction, alerting the creature to the danger, but the rock was released with a bullwhip snap before the deer could move. It crumpled to the ground and did not raise itself, much to Esen's relief. She checked to make sure it was dead before hoisting it up over her shoulders and starting back to the desert. On the way, she passed her snares, only one of which held anything. A rabbit thrashed there, and Esen dispatched it with her little knife as swiftly as she could. Reaching the spot where the group had started, Esen dropped her kills and got to work skinning and eviscerating them. She laid out meat strips on one of the cleaner stones and decided she would work the hides until the remaining apprentices returned. The doe and rabbit together would be enough to keep them alive for a day, but they were neither fatty nor plentiful. She hoped her sling hadn't scared away anyone else's quarry. Esen caught what blood she could in her flask, just in case they were unable to find water. It would be gross, but it could save them. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Aelion Nyrandor
Apprentice || Mentions: Syllivanna, Apprentices
Indirectly Mentions: Zinniah Aelion’s brow furrowed slightly as he listened to Syllivanna’s explanation about the calendula, taking it in. His lips twitched upward briefly, a subtle acknowledgment of her care for their surroundings. “Two armfuls, huh?” Aelion echoed, nodding his head. As he knelt down and plucked the vibrant calendula, he followed Syllivanna’s advice, leaving seeds behind when possible. The sun beat down on his back, the oppressive heat making the act of bending over and working close to the ground feel almost unbearable. Yet, he pressed on, knowing the importance of the task. His hands moved deftly, calloused fingers brushing against the soft petals before twisting them free. For a moment, the thought of hunting crossed his mind. It would be useful, especially for the trial ahead. The meat could dry fairly quickly, the skins used to keep warm at night. However, the process would be long, and he doubted that they would have enough time. No matter, he would think of something else. Syllivanna's mention of the Aspilia Africana caught his attention, and his gray eyes flicked toward her as she described its uses. “Yellow daisy-like flowers,” he murmured under his breath, scanning the area. “Got it.” Aelion narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight as he searched for the plant. All that greeted him were dandelions—useful, but not what they needed. He grunted in frustration, straightening momentarily to stretch his stiff back. Instead, he watched as Syllivanna moved toward a patch of yellow a short distance away. For a moment, he watched her work with a quiet intensity. She was dedicated, no doubt about it. Even in the midst of their trials, she seemed to find a strange sense of calm in her task, as if the heat and pressure of their situation couldn’t touch her. Aelion respected that. “You know,” he called out, breaking the silence, “if you keep finding new things to collect, we’ll be here until sunset.” His tone was teasing, though his words carried a thread of truth. Time wasn’t on their side, and he didn’t trust the desert to remain cooperative for much longer. "Is that them? The Aspilia, was it?" Despite his earlier quip, Aelion wandered closer, his own small bundle of calendula tucked under one arm. He crouched beside her, eyeing the cluster of Aspilia Africana she had found. The yellow flowers were delicate, their vibrant color almost out of place. His fingers adjusted slightly upon the plant, pinching the stem. With a firm but gentle tug, he separated the flower cleanly from its base. Holding it up for inspection, he turned it in his hand, studying the golden petals with an almost imperceptible curiosity. “Not bad,” he said, nodding. Aelion reached out to pluck one of the flowers, handling it with surprising care. “These are what you use to stop bleeding?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as though trying to connect the delicate appearance of the flower to its practical application. Adding the flower to the bundle with care, he reached for another. This time, his movements were more confident, a rhythm forming as he harvested the blooms. For a moment, the air felt less stifling, the tension of the trial momentarily forgotten. However, it didn't last long. His gaze shifted toward the horizon, his expression darkening for a moment. “We should head back soon." Straightening, he glanced at the calendula she had placed beside her. Using a free hand, he picked up the bundle and added it to his own current batch. They had collected a suitable amount, and so he rose to his feet. Having no free hands to brush dirt from his knees, he had no choice but to leave it. "That should be enough, what do you think? We could always return now that we know where to find it." It wasn't as if he could carry much more, stems already beginning to drape off the sides of his arms as he cradled the plants. Not to mention, the basket was full. In his opinion, it was a good harvest. Then again, he was no healer. Without further comment, he stepped aside, gesturing for to lead. His long strides followed hers, deliberate and brisk, as if hurrying away from an unseen threat. The low murmur of voices reached him before the group came into view. Relief mingled with tension as he rejoined them. Without so much as a word, he returned to the group, arms full of flowers, plants, and a satisfied look upon his face. |
|
|
Winter 
Night 
Blizzard Moon: 
