Arnok
12-01-2007, 06:06 PM
One more night away from home, just one more and he would see his friends again. More importantly, he would see Feral again. Arnok had arrived in the Undercity earlier that evening and rode to Brill. He didn’t think he could make it to the Ignis Divine guildhall at the other end of the Glades. Better to stop at the inn and rest for the night, go home the next morning more refreshed than he was now, fresh off one of the riding bats.
He had spent more than a week away from Ignis, trekking back from the Wetlands, where his brother had so kindly met him with an ambush while he was hunting. His brother and his cronies had stripped him of his money, spare shot, and most of his armor before beating him senseless. Arnok fingered the hand-shaped frost-burn scar on the top front part of his skull, a parting gift from his shamanistic brother. He had been left for the spiders until his wolf, Irontooth, found him and dragged him back to his camp. Now lacking armor, ammo, and being severely injured, he had had no choice but to turn back to Tirisfal.
It had taken him a week to get this far, for he had been unable to afford the price asked by the wyvern and bat masters. Upon reaching Hillsbrad, he had been able to scrounge enough money to hire a bat back to Tirisfal, but had been held up helping Alkaline with the human guards of the land.
But now he was back, safe at the inn and he would be home the next day. If his had wanted to push himself and Irontooth he could have made it, but they were both worn out from the long journey and needed a rest. Better to greet the guild with some of the fatigue wiped from their bodies.
Arnok entered the tavern in Brill and took a seat with its back to the hearth facing the bar. He couldn’t see the entrance, but tonight, comfort and access to food mattered more than safety. He ordered roasted mutton, knowing he needed to specify the meat or risk something that hadn’t been quite dead when it was cooked, and a hot cider. As he waited for his order he glanced around the tavern to see who else might be there tonight.
((I know, I know, cheesey plot hook/invite for people to join in. sorry for the long backstory, join if you like s’il te plaîs))
He had spent more than a week away from Ignis, trekking back from the Wetlands, where his brother had so kindly met him with an ambush while he was hunting. His brother and his cronies had stripped him of his money, spare shot, and most of his armor before beating him senseless. Arnok fingered the hand-shaped frost-burn scar on the top front part of his skull, a parting gift from his shamanistic brother. He had been left for the spiders until his wolf, Irontooth, found him and dragged him back to his camp. Now lacking armor, ammo, and being severely injured, he had had no choice but to turn back to Tirisfal.
It had taken him a week to get this far, for he had been unable to afford the price asked by the wyvern and bat masters. Upon reaching Hillsbrad, he had been able to scrounge enough money to hire a bat back to Tirisfal, but had been held up helping Alkaline with the human guards of the land.
But now he was back, safe at the inn and he would be home the next day. If his had wanted to push himself and Irontooth he could have made it, but they were both worn out from the long journey and needed a rest. Better to greet the guild with some of the fatigue wiped from their bodies.
Arnok entered the tavern in Brill and took a seat with its back to the hearth facing the bar. He couldn’t see the entrance, but tonight, comfort and access to food mattered more than safety. He ordered roasted mutton, knowing he needed to specify the meat or risk something that hadn’t been quite dead when it was cooked, and a hot cider. As he waited for his order he glanced around the tavern to see who else might be there tonight.
((I know, I know, cheesey plot hook/invite for people to join in. sorry for the long backstory, join if you like s’il te plaîs))