A Mysterious Message...

[Saber]

A slight snarl came from the beneath Furrow’s hood as a gust of wind slithered its way under his closed cape. The chilly breeze bit at the little exposed skin that was not covered, and almost stung. The touch of the air sent a quick chill down Furrow’s spine before dropping off at his waist. Holding his wrists through the inner loops of the protective cape, Furrow tried to keep the cloak shut around himself. Yet without any real fasteners, all he had were his arms. Even so, the dangling piece of clothing had done its job, and Furrow was grateful to still be warm. His nightly steps had brought him much further away from Kabal then he initially expected. Without stopping, or taking anytime to set up a fire, Furrow marched through the night like a shade.

The night’s grasp had attempted, many times, to swallow up Furrow into a deep sleep. Though this Elf had more immediate needs then sleep. Sleep could wait until after this quest of his. He was headed for Darir, the dark murky region next to his home in Sven. The reason why, was between him and the person who had sent him a letter several nights ago. It was an urgent message of distress, and summoned Furrow to come as quickly as possible to the region. Even so, it would take him several days to reach his destination.

The messenger from the Darir region had come just before sundown three days prior for Furrow. A masked creature was draped in complete black, and handed Furrow the letter promptly after appearing. Then it vanished into thin air, like mist. Furrow accepted the letter, without much choice, and read its contents. Faint of heart from the request, he proceeded on anyways. If the letter was important enough that the messenger needed to cross two borders, Furrow figured it was worth taking the time to find out why.

Now, the Hooded Elf found himself crossing the wide open plains of Kabal. He previously was in the city just to rest for a few days after a swift adventure through the Dragon’s Spine, but fate has a way to sweeping ones soul right away. Off into the wind Furrow’s inner-self would go, leaving his body to scurry after it. That’s what Furrow found himself doing now; walking aimlessly towards Darir simply because of a letter. The way he saw it; Furrow now had a reason to do something. Which was always better then just sitting around.

Without much direction, Furrow simply followed his instincts and the way he always went into Namos....

* * * * * * *

Yet, shortly after crossing the border; Furrow found himself in a pinch almost immediately. The Elf now stood, bow drawn, aiming in between the eyes of a four legged beast... The creature was nearly 8 foot tall on his hands and feets. Teeth bared, and eyes dark, the massive beast glared towards Furrow. Furrow had no idea what he had done to provoke such a creature, nor did he even know where it came from.

“We seem to be at an impasse...” Furrow muttered, looking sharply at the beast. The creature’s response was a harsh snap of its teeth.. Then it came.

In nearly an instant, the beast lunged forward with the intention of swatting Furrow out of its way. The Elf had other plans... The moment the beast got close, vines that once wrapped around the trees around him, shot out and tied around the feet of the beast, freezing its movement. The bindings only lasted a moment before the creature tore itself free; bitting, ripping, and slashing at the entanglements.

Though, once it was free, it was already done. Furrow was now above the beast, and dropped out of a low branch. As the creature looked around at eye level, the strike from above caught the creature off guard. Furrow gripped his hand tightly and punched into the back of the beasts head, using the force of his fall to increase the hit. As Furrow touched the ground, the massive beast fell beside him.

Sprawled out on the forest floor, the creature now lay unconscious. Furrow stood, looking down at the massive being as it slept. The beast was much more majestic when it didn’t want to rip Furrow’s throat out. Even so, as much as Furrow wanted to stay and take some notes on the beast; he didn’t want to be around when it awoke.

He turned and looked to the sky, or what he could see, and got his bearings as best as he could before setting out again, holding his cloak shut as he proceeded.

[Saber]

Furrow hopped atop a fallen tree trunk, his boots gently clamping down onto the hollow husk of what was once alive. He stared forward through the forest, searching for some sort of destination. The route to Darir was a tricky one if an adventurer lost his way. This forest was not a kind one either for the less vigilant. Furrow had the feeling of eyes all around him and chilly breeze after breeze slid itself down his spine. Yet, Furrow found some comfort in the scary place.

He had some time to tend to his thoughts and memories. Furrow, as he walked, could look back on what he had done during his life and smile. Most creatures he has come across he has seen the eyes of regret fall on his own. Furrow was proud of his past, proud of his adventures. He was not proud of the fights that had to end in deaths, but he was proud that he could send those beings to better places. War was on the brink, and in some places had already started. Who wants to live a life full of war, besides a killer?

Stepping down from the fallen tree trunk, Furrow held his cloak gently against his body. He didn’t hold it tight like he had done on the open plains, as there was much wind because of the trees, but he had to keep it from getting caught on something. He had several miles left to get to Darir. The border would come eventually, and he had all the time in the world. Looking up to the sky again, Furrow fixed his direction. If he had kept going, he would’ve actually come out to far south of Darir to even be close to any sort of settlement or city. Now he was back on track.

Passing tree after tree, the Forest was very repetitious. Furrow found himself looking upwards a lot to make sure he was going the right way. He chose the frontier over the path that ran through the countries simply for the fact that he didn’t want trouble from Highwaymen, or any creatures that were attracted to the activity. Even so, he didn’t feel much safer. Without another soul around him, anything could come up and attack him. Yet, he left his bow sticking out just a little on his back. Furrow wasn’t heavily armed, but he was well armed. He didn’t want to fight, so he hoped the bow would serve as a good enough deterrent.

Slowly as Furrow proceeded, he began to hear a soothing sound to any traveler; the flowing of water. The Elf instantly picked up the sound, using the Earth he stood on to get a feeling of the moving body of water was. Furrow adjusted to his left a little, and slipped through a few bushes and passed three trees before he found what he was looking for; the ten-foot wide river rumbled quietly forward. It was a medium-sized river, and the water flowed hastily. Fish run up and down through the water, feeding and going about with their lives.

Deciding to take a rest, Furrow carefully removed his Bow and Quiver, resting them close to himself as he knelt down to the water. He removed his gloves, and placed them beside his weapons. Dipping his right hand carefully into the water, Furrow felt the running water slither through his fingers, washing away the dirt and grime that had gathered between his fingers. A small sigh came from Furrow’s lips as he began to rinse his hands, rubbing them together beneath the water. Leaning close, he brought his face down to the water level and began to wipe his face off. Splashing the chilly water over his cheeks and forehead, Furrow grit his teeth slightly as the water bit him a little.

Tilting his head down even further, Furrow slightly lowered his head down into the water. Running his fingers through his hair, the Elf cleaned out the grease and dirt that had aged on his scalp. He did so for one a short few seconds before pulling his head back up and looking around. Furrow had to keep an eye out for predators, or anyone who wanted to do him harm. Then, just as he looked down to the water; a slow fish began to float towards the distorted water. Curiously, two more appeared. Furrow smiled and dipped his finger into the water, circling it around some. Using some of his magic of Life, he faked his finger as a living creature to the Fish, yet he also used it to see which of the Fish was oldest... And that fish, didn’t come any closer.

Furrow put another finger on the other side of that fish, and began to slowly work the two fingers around in a circle. Carefully as he spun his fingers back and forth, creating a wide circle around the older fish, it began to react. Though, not in the way many would expect. Slowly, the fish began to float towards the top of the water. Its fins moved slower, and its gills began to stop as well. By the time it reached the top of the water, the Older fish had passed. Without a struggle, the decently sized fish floated on its belly motionless. The two younger fish scattered, and disappeared into the water as Furrow placed his palms under the older fish. Smiling, Furrow enjoyed the feeling of a happy creature letting time take it away. At the end before the Fish left, he felt a sort of happiness flow through his arms and into his chest. The old one knew it was his time, and simply floated and waited for Furrow to release him. Now he would swim in a river that never ended...

Lifting the fish from the water, Furrow placed it softly down on his pair of gloves, keeping it off the ground. Then he walked to the bushes near-by, checking for any dead limbs or brush. He gathered up a lot of sticks and twigs, but he was also able to pull a small, low hanging branch off a tree that had died long ago. Snapping the branch down into smaller pieces, he circled the pile of wood with rocks from the river. Sliding his pack off, Furrow pulled out two flintstones. With a hard flick, he sent several sparks into the pile and quickly ignited a fire before returning the stones to his pack.

He set the bag down beside him with his bow and quiver, then grabbed the fish softly. With one of his daggers, Furrow cut into the lower part of the fish and removed the creature’s entrails, throwing them into the river to be eaten by some other creature. He then also removed the eyeballs of the fish, flicking them into the water as well. Furrow took a long stick he had found and skewered the fish from its tail, out of his mouth, then stuck the opposite end of the stick into the ground. He leaned the fish close to the fire, but not to close as to not catch the stick on fire.

Furrow curled up, held his knees against his chest, and wrapped his cloak around himself. Watching the bright embers and flames dance, Furrow waited patiently as his dinner cooked. He felt a little sleepy, but would wait until the fish was done and eaten before he’d rest.