PM to join Sitting with the Dead

[Dravite]

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The Zith used the last of its strength to jump up and take hold of a low hanging branch, using it to escape further up into the tree. Some of the men got off their horses and made their way to the twisted trunk only for Aris to call out and stop them. “Leave it! He ordered, “It won’t be long until he passes.”

The dust settled and with it the horses came to a standstill; even Cree found his way back, satisfied that the area must be safe now that the rest of the gang was here. Dravite looked to where the battle had taken place and saw that the earth was wet with the creature’s blood. He remembered then that he had been looking for Belhatir and sucked in a worried gasp before finally spotting him on the ground, upper body nestled in the grass.

Dravite ran to his Windborne brother and checked him for wounds, finding only one on his shoulder where an arrow had grazed the skin deep enough to draw blood and possibly even leave a scar once it was healed. He helped his friend sit up slowly and brushed some of the dirt off of him. As Aris spoke to the group, two of the riders kept guard at the base of the tree. “We will camp here tonight; Endrykas is moving to the summer grounds and will pass this way. We have to secure the area to make sure there won’t be more of these attacks.”

“What was that thing?” One of the young recruits asked.
Aris sighed, he was used to working with well-trained, seasoned warriors, why had he opted to take on a group of newbies; the pay wasn’t that good. His features seemed to reflect his thoughts as he answered. “That was a Zith, you may have heard of them from some of your clan members.”
“Man or monster?”
Aris pinned the recruit with a glare and hissed. “Be it man or beast he attacked one of us and that means he dies.”

As his gaze fell on each of them he nodded at Belhatir and Dravite. “Are the two of you okay?”
“Just a scratch,” Dravite answered ignorantly, pointing out Belhatir’s shoulder; he hadn't noticed the cut on his chest of grazing down his side.
“I think you’ll survive,” the man smiled, something none of them had seen him do before.

There was a long, low hiss from above in the branches and the team watched as the Zith’s body withered against the trunk of the tree where it was almost at its thinnest point. He was dying and a part of Dravite felt guilty for inflicting wounds that killed slowly rather than outright. He bowed his head, not fond of watching men die and tried to help Belhatir to his feet.

“You two, I want you to ride on ahead towards the Kabrin Road and see to it that the way is clear for the city migrating to the summer encampment. If the plain is free of danger and any more of these Zith, send word to me through the web,” Aris instructed them.

Dravite nodded, it was a better fate than sitting around watching The Serenity Tree for signs of life, and whatever they had found in the grass was something best unseen, something Belhatir would probably tell him about on the journey north. He took his shirt from the saddlebag on Cree’s back and used it to wrap Belhatir’s shoulder. It would stop the blood for now and keep the dirt out of it until they could find a better solution.

They hadn’t really come prepared for an overnight stay, so Dravite set his mind to hunting as they set off on horseback towards the Kabrin Road. Of course they wouldn’t have to travel all the way to the road, journeying no further than the lake Endrykas passed by on its way to the summer grounds, but it was a good marker to let them know if they had gone too far.

Belhatir seemed quiet and Dravite didn’t want to pry, so instead of hounding his friend with the typical ‘are you okay,’ type questions, he started to sing. Belhatir was likely to join in once he caught the tune of the song Lazuli had taught them when they were little, that or ask Dravite if he too could hear the dying animal, for the man could barely hold a tune, humming the words he had forgotten..
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[Mahaleth]

He was in pain and a lot of it. The muscles in his right arm were strained from having to hold on so awkwardly to the yvas and a galloping Dreamer. His right side, from his hipbone to his ankle, felt raw; stones and dirt had peeled off some skin as Dreamer careened him to safety. The blood from his wounded chest, goodbye presents from the zith, turned sticky and dark on his shirt and made the lacerations sting. He closed his eyes and felt his body throb, listened to Aris bark his orders to let the monstrosity be. He heard the wind rustling in the trees and in the grass. He heard a flock of birds calling to each other, and under all of that the sound of his heart beating, slowing down.

There was dirt up Belhatir's nose, warm dirt that he could smell on his skin over the disturbing iron scent and taste of blood. Little bugs crawled on his ankles and a stray fly alighted on the wound on his shoulder. It tasted Belhatir, as if wondering if Belhatir were ripe for the picking, dead like the foreigner in the tall grass. Belhatir closed his eyes and thought it would have been nice to sleep there, in the sun, and wait until the throbbing in his body stopped and he could stand again, when Dravite came up to him and gingerly helped him sit up. A long, low groan vibrated in Belhatir's throat as he sat up and painfully peeled the shirt off of his chest and over his head. He winced, but more from the knowledge that he'd have to buy another shirt than from the pain of ripped skin. He was used to that. A man doesn't survive some twenty years on the Sea of Grass without a few scars.

"Are the two of you okay?" Aris asked.
Dravite answered for him. "Just a scratch," he said.
Belhatir let out a scoff. "Just a scratch," he echoed.
Aris smiled, but to Belhatir it looked more like a smirk. "I think you'll survive."

A racket of leaves and snapping wood made Belhatir look up and over Aris' shoulder. There the zith was, crumpled, his chest touching his knees. He was breathing still, and Belhatir knew that he was dying. Slowly. Good, Belhatir thought. He wished he could watch.

Dravite pulled Belhatir up. Belhatir held his breath and tried not to make a sound, and in front of their commander tried to keep the expression on his face as stoic as possible. It was good luck that Belhatir had learned to make his face turn into stone after a decade of his quiet, steadfast defiance of Belhaur.

“You two," Aris said. "I want you to ride on ahead towards the Kabrin Road and see to it that the way is clear for the city migrating to the summer encampment. If the plain is free of danger and any more of these Zith, send word to me through the web. When Dravite nodded, Aris rode away to give his instructions to the other half of the troop. Belhatir, irritated, stopped listening.

Dravite busied himself with wrapping Belhatir's shoulder. Belhatir ripped up his shirt and bandaged his own chest. Belhatir's bandages were clumsy and his knots barely held them together, but they held for the time being. That was enough. Mareeya had her work cut out for her.

Belhatir's mind buzzed as if there were flies in his mouth, like that corpse down the road. He tried to keep his noise down as he took hold of his yvas with his left shoulder, the one that the arrow had grazed, and struggled to climb up on Dreamer with his whole right side still smarting. Thankfully, Dreamer knew to keep still. She didn't even move her ears. Belhatir's footing and his grip slipped every now and then, but he refused help. He was a terrible excuse for a Drykas, but he was a Drykas that could get on his own mount.

The expression on Belhatir's face was pinched and sour now that he and his brother had their backs turned to their commander. He was irritated because he had been hurt so badly, annoyed at the other Watch recruit for adding another mark--but friendly fire was sometimes unavoidable--and most of all furious that he hadn't even been able to hurt the zith that much or kill the damned thing himself. As Belhatir stewed over the last half hour, Dravite started to sing over the sound of their striders' hooves.

"On Zulrav's winds o'er Wanah'ite
I heard my lover's song.
She sighed to me, she sang my name,
Said love, wander not long."

Dravite paused, as if expecting Belhatir to join along. When Belhatir did not, his brows remaining stubbornly bent, Dravite went on.

"The eyes were watching from the trees.
I heard my lover sighing.
But in the trees of Wanah'ite
Adventure, it was calling!"

"Oh, stop, I'm in enough pain," Belhatir said, but he was smiling. Dravite laughed and then obnoxiously hummed the rest. He was off key. It sounded like a dying horse. Belhatir, already favoring his left side so that he felt that at any minute he might fall off his strider, tried not to laugh, too. "Mercy," he muttered. "Mercy, brother, mercy."


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[Dravite]

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Belhatir didn’t join in, but Dravite had managed to get a smile out of the man. Before the song ended, he was begging for the sound to stop, but Dravite couldn’t half sing the song. He went on until the final verse was done.

“There's gold enough to fill our boat,
A bounty fit for three.
To gild your eyes and arms, my love,
Til shining you will be.”

Moving across the plain on the back of his Strider, Dravite’s singing had sounded even worse than usual, his deep voice thrown with every rise and fall upon the animal’s back, distorting the usually mild tone. “Come on, my singing isn’t that bad,” the man complained and looked across at his companion who seemed to think otherwise; his face said it all.
“Yeah, alright; it’s pretty terrible,” Dravite laughed, the moment of minor distraction almost seeing him thrown from his horse as Cree stopped suddenly only to bolt forward again.

Dravite lost his fingers in the horse’s wild mane and held on as best he could. He pat the animal’s neck with open palm, wondering what in the world had gotten into him. “I think they are still a little spooked,” Dravite called to Belhatir, looking over to see his Windborne brother bowed as if in pain, favouring one side; it was then he noticed the grazing on Belhatir’s torso.

“Let’s go on up to that tree there and let them rest.”

He didn’t wanted to imply that Belhatir needed a rest, knowing the man better than that; this way he had an excuse to get the man off his horse so that he could take a better look at the damage the Zith had caused. But before they could get any closer to the tree up ahead, Cree stopped again, this time attempting to buck Dravite from his back. Dravite held fast to the stallion’s mane and centred his weight, trying to calm him in Pavi. When the horse settled the man slipped from his back and looked him over, trying to work out what had upset him.

Cree held his front, right hoof up off the ground and Dravite closed his hand over the pastern to examine the fetlock and then under the hoof. His warm, grey eyes squinted when he noticed something short and black lodged in the underside of the hoof and quickly took hold of the sharp, bone-like object. It was black and curled like a Night-Lions claw, only longer and much narrower at the front. Cree snorted his thanks and put his head down to rip up a mouthful of grass, obviously unfazed by his ordeal. “You think it belongs to the Zith?” Dravite asked, holding up the black claw to Belhatir who had managed to circle back and bring Dreamer under control.

It was nearing midday and the sun was hot on their backs. Dravite left the claw in Belhatir’s hands to take a drink from the water-skin he kept in the right side of the saddlebag set over Cree’s back. He made sure everything was accounted for, and satisfied that he had lost nothing while the Strider had bucked about and made a scene, he put his things back in order and sat down in the horse’s shadow. “You should probably let me take a look at those cuts of yours, brother.” .
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[Mahaleth]

Cree bucked and did a stop-go kind of dance, which aggravated Dreamer who was already disturbed by the zith attack and the weight of her wounded man on her back. She snorted, one leg cocked back, her ears flat against her head. Belhatir half-heartedly tried to calm her, but it was too much effort for him; he was exausted. He slid off the yvas and stumbled to his feet, let her run as she would a few feet away and then back again, nipping at the air.

The noon sun was high up in the sky and Belhatir could feel the trickle of salt sweat down his back and his chest. Not all of it was from the heat, though. Most of it was cold, on his forehead, and around his crown. When Dravite finally managed to find out what was wrong with Cree, Dreamer had already exerted all the rest of her pent up energy and let Belhatir lead her back to the shade of the tree Dravite said they should rest at. Horse and rider shared drinks from the water-skin, though Dreamer only got enough to wet her lips. Belhatir attacked the rest, drank it down and left none for the rest of the ride back home.

"You think it belongs to the Zith?" Dravite asked, holding up what looked like on of the zith's claws. Belhatir grunted and slid down the side of the tree, using it to prop his back and the back of his head. Dravite put the claw in Belhatir's hand and Belhatir mindlessly took the claw, rubbed it with his thumb. He closed his eyes. The wounds weren't smarting very much anymore aside from the occasional throb if he didn't touch them, but his right side was still throbbing from being dragged those yards away. A muscle in his side had torn, and it would be sore for weeks.

"You should probably let me take a look at those cuts of yours, brother."
Belhatir opened his eyes and there Dravite was standing in front of him, looking concerned. Belhatir gave him a crooked smile. "Are you a healer now, Drav?" he joked. "A Webber, a Healer, and the best singer in all of Endrykas. In all of Cyphrus!" After Belhatir's gentle teasing, he made a dismissive gesture, as if flicking away a fly. "They're shallow cuts. Don't worry. Mareeya can take care of them."

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[Dravite]

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Belhatir slipped from Dreamer's back in favour of covering ground on his own two feet. Dravite followed behind him watching horse and man leave tracks in the dirt, one short and round like a crescent moon, the other long and narrow with dotted toes. He noticed whenever they walked over a grassy patch of earth that the tracks would disappear only to form again wherever they fell in dirt or sand. Dravite made a mental note to himself that if ever he wanted to cross the Sea without being followed, he should steer Cree or himself over grassy areas in favour of earth.

As he watched his friend sit down under the tree, Dravite turned to Cree to rummage through the saddlebag and pluck out a jar of honey he had been conned into buying earlier in the spring on a trip to the marketplace. There was still quite a lot of honey in the jar, save for the odd grove where a small finger had gone through it, no doubt one that belonged to his son Kyanite.

Dravite moved to sit near Belhatir in the shade of the tree and opened the jar to steal a bit of honey to warm between his fingers. Belhatir made comment about his webbing and asked if he deemed himself a healer too, no doubt it was because his mother hailed from the Opal clan before she had been wed to Dravite's father, and later to Bel's. "No I don't fancy myself a healer," Dravite spat, as if the words tasted foul on his tongue.

"Forgive me for caring, brother."

The honey between Dravite's finger and thumb had become warm and malleable, making it easier to spread over the tooth marks on his right forearm that had been left by the wolf they had encountered on the riverbank a week or two ago now. "The lady in the marketplace that sold this to me said honey has some healing properties. I don't know if that's true, but it couldn't hurt right?"

He noticed Belhatir's water-skin was folded over and saggy, leaving him to assume that it was empty. "I have two water-skins if you need one... You could at least wash the cuts."

Dravite thought about sending his Windborne brother back to camp if he would let no one but his wife tend to him and seemed happy to ignore his own health. Camping out overnight would do him little good, especially if there were more Zith around; who knew what they were capable of, or how good their sense of smell was. Festering wounds would only make them both targets.

The sun sat high in the sky and the air on the horizon seemed to ripple in the heat, making it look as if the small dot that was now The Serenity Tree, danced back and forth. Dravite thought it best if they sat for a while, not that it looked like Belhatir was fit to move on, and his thoughts turned to the web again. How he longed to slip away into the trance like state under the watchful eye on his kin and see what he could find from where they sat with his eyes closed.

When Dravite opened his eyes, drawn back to the world of the living by his brother's voice, he realised just how fixated he had become with the web, it's knowing and power; a hub of knowledge here and now that was very hard to resist. Maybe they were right, perhaps Belhatir was right... He was too fond of the Drykas Magic. Dravite licked his dry lips and got up to fetch one of his water skins. "What did you say? Sorry, I was day dreaming." .
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[Mahaleth]

As children Belhatir and Dravite fought hard and fought often, and as men they fought no less. Often an exchange of words would devolve into a fist fight or a wrestling match, and often one of them would go home with a bloody nose (Dravite) or a bloody mouth (Belhatir), then they would meet up again sometimes the day after and pretend the argument never happened. Perhaps it was because they were both part of the same pavilion; they all had to rely on each other and there had never been much time for silly grudges between herding the Zibri and hunting. That and Belhatir had never been very good at apologizing, so he never apologized.

He didn't apologize then, when he realized that his brother had taken offense to his teasing. Belhatir should have apologized, but he didn't. Dravite didn't seem to care that he didn't, as he went on about his honey and offered his second water-skin to Belhatir.

Belhatir felt contrary. The combination of the heat and the throbbing in his muscles made him feel the way he did when he was a child and one of Belhaur's wives would try to boss him into an afternoon nap. The more Belhatir needed a nap, the more he dug his heels into the ground and stayed where he was, until yawning something fierce begrudgingly fall asleep on the spot.

A bug, a bee, a fly, whatever it was, buzzed near the wound on Belhatir's shoulder, no doubt drawn by the blood. He flicked it away, huffed like an annoyed horse would, and said, "All right. I'll wash the wounds. I'll put the honey in them. Just show me how."

Dravite didn't answer. His eyes were closed and his mouth was relaxed, as if he were asleep or in another one of his trances. Blades of grass rustled around them, the leaves in the trees gossiped again. On the wind, Belhatir's nose picked up the scent of rotting fruit and still-wet earth. "Dravite," Belhatir said again. "Show me how."

Dravite opened his eyes. "What did you say?" he asked, licking his lips. "Sorry, I was day dreaming."
"I said show me how," Belhatir said, "so that we can keep going." As much as Belhatir hated everything else at the time---the Kabrin Road, his Strider, the Watch, the Drykas and the infernal Run---Belhatir didn't like the idea of leaving Dravite alone when there could have been other dangers afoot.

Belhatir tied his hair back and reached into his own bag for his provisions. There was a food knife and bread that Mareeya had baked in a makeshift kiln that the pavilion shared in Spring. The bread was dry and tough and not very good, but it was good enough to fill Belhatir's already groaning stomach. Belhatir cut a piece of the bread and held it out to Dravite. "Here," Belhatir, chewing, said. "If there's enough left over you could probably put some honey in that and it will taste better."

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[Dravite]

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Dravite shook his head at the offer of bread. “I ate this morning before we came out here, you know me, I never have lunch.” And it was true, Dravite only liked to eat twice a day, cutting back to once a day in the summer when he would only eat while it was still cool in the morning.

He moved over to Belhatir and unwrapped his own shirt from where he had tied it on Bel’s shoulder. The black fabric stuck to the wound which told the man it was already scabbing. Dravite pulled it away carefully and folded the material before pouring water from the water-skin over Belhatir’s shoulder. The man didn’t have much knowledge in the way of healing; only what he had seen his mother do as a boy when she fixed up his cuts and grazes.

Careful not to waste water, Dravite soaked a part of his shirt and ran the wet fold of material over Belhatir’s shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas,” he teased his brother, knowing how he preferred the company of men to women. “I’m just doing this so that I don’t have to put up with you whining for the next few days.” He smiled to himself but didn’t know if Belhatir had seen it; that secret, amused smile.

As he worked on his friend’s shoulder and side he listened to him eating the dry break and shook his head. “Put some honey on it, I don’t mind.”

Dravite used the dry, clean end of his top to pat away the water after washing the wounds and looked at them closely. He wasn’t so much concerned about the grazing as he was the cut on the man’s chest, which looked quite deep. “I think we should leave out the honey for now, let the grazing dry in the wind and cover up the cut to keep the dust and Dreamer’s hair out of it.

The rest of the water from his water-skin was used to wash the shirt, which he tied to Cree’s yvas to dry in the sun. Dravite put the jar of honey away in the saddlebag once Belhatir was done with it and looked out across the plain. He couldn’t see any more trees for miles so if there were any Zith about, they would either be on foot or flying. “Come on, wrap that up, we should get back on the horses and ride on if you’re fit.”

Dravite didn’t want to sit idle for too long when Aris was waiting to hear back from them. He slung an arm over Cree’s back as if he were about to climb onto the animal but instead of doing so he closed his eyes and concentrated until he found a loose strand of the web to trail. He followed the web until he was far away from his own body, scouting across country for what lay ahead. It wasn’t long before a came across something that was said to be a bit of a rarity in the grass; a full grown female Grass-Bear was slowly making her way with two cubs in tow.

Dravite opened his eyes and struggled up onto Cree’s back. When he was sat upright he pointed at the horizon. “I saw three bears that way, we might want to try and avoid them.”.
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[Mahaleth]

Belhatir would have sooner eaten his own Strider than want Dravite's company in bed. He would have said that if his mouth weren't full of dry bread. He shook his head at the honey---the bread was already gone---and Dravite put the jar back in his bag. Belhatir swatted away the bugs that tried to alight on his wounds as he wrapped up the cuts on his chest. The cuts were still slowly oozing blood, but not as much; the blood was beginning to clot and turn into tender scabs on his chest. Belhatir gingerly patted down his sides, as if to check that everything were in place, and slowly climbed up on the yvas.

"I saw three bears that way," Dravite said, raising his arm and pointing somewhere north. "We might want to try and avoid them."
"Nonsense," Belhatir joked. "We should say hello."
Dravite gave him a look. Belhatir laughed. They both knew that any more adventure for the day would likely kill Belhatir.
"What? Don't you want to pet a bear?"
Dravite made an annoyed sound and Belhatir laughed again, weakly, as he and Dreamer trotted after Dravite.

Lucky for Belhatir, Lhev didn't have any more adventure in store for them that day. The most exciting thing that Belhatir saw on their patrol was a Copperin swallowing some kind of mouse on a branch of a Crag Fir. The way for the Run was clear: no Zith, no bears, nothing else exciting. By the time Dravite and Belhatir finished scouting the place out, the sun had already begun dipping in the west and their shadows were long on the ground.

"Seems clear enough," Belhatir told Dravite. "You should probably send word back to Aris."

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[Dravite]

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Aris would be waiting to hear back from the pair, hoping they hadn’t been swallowed by the Grassland or run into more trouble than either of them could handle. Dravite thought about the man and how cold he seemed sometimes, yet there was warmth in him, buried deep; the watchman didn’t like to send recruits to their deaths, but enjoyed pushing them to their limits all the same. “Will do,” Dravite nodded, deciding here was as good as place as any to camp for the night.

He got down from Cree’s back and stalked a few metres from his friend before disappearing into the tall grass in search of sticks and bits of dry root they could either eat or use to spark a fire, not that he felt very hungry after their ordeal and Belhatir had already eaten. Dravite returned with a handful of twigs and grass, and a couple of fat roots he had managed to dig out of the earth where it seemed a sounder of wild boar had already passed through, making a mess of the place. Of all the meats, pork had to be his favourite; there was nothing like a crispy cut of pig skin to warm him from the inside out.

Dravite sat down and piled the twigs on top of the dry grass. He took his steel and flint from his pocket and tapped it together to make sparks, but none of them would catch in the light breeze. The man looked around for some kind of rock he could use to dig out a small pit to build the fire in, and coming up empty handed, he was forced to position himself with his back to the breeze and lean close to his work in order to shelter the flames he was trying to create so that they would have a chance to take off.

With the heel of his foot he raked back anything that might catch other than what he desired, to make sure he wasn’t to blame for causing another wildfire this season (not that the first had been his fault); the one that had taken out most of the tents in their pavilion was enough to last him a few years. The sparks finally caught and a small flame hollowed out the dry-grass from beneath the twigs which soon cracked and hissed as the smoke and heat of the flames spread. “Looks like we’ll have fire tonight,” Dravite smiled up at his friend who he tasked with keeping the fire alight so that he could concentrate on using the web.

Funny how a day’s travel took only minutes to backtrack through using the Draykas webbing Dravite thought to himself, following a line around the bears they had passed, who seemed to have also settled down for the night. If he were stronger he might have liked to challenge the mother some day and take the cubs to sell or raise and train up to hunt with the Windborne pavilion; but he was years from that point, or so it felt to him. Aris was waiting, ready to receive the all clear message which Dravite gave, “Nothing to be found heading north. Orders?”

“Camp for the night, we head back to Endrykas tomorrow, you both have leave to go, rest up with your pavilion and tell Belhatir to return to work when he is fit,” Aris commanded.

Dravite smiled to himself. Giving Belhatir orders was easier said than done. Belhatir didn’t like to take orders from him or anyone else, especially if they alluded to the fact that he might not be fit to work, “Thank you, Aris.”

When Dravite opened his eyes to wake up from the trance it seemed Belhatir had managed to keep the fire going. Dravite helped the man forage for a few more things to burn, crouching low to look in the tall grass as the orange sky darkened. They would probably have to get up during the night to keep the fire burning, and Dravite didn’t mind taking first watch so that his Windborne brother could get some sleep. “Rest,” He told Belhatir, “At first light we head home.” .
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[Naiya]

Here's what the Fox says

Name: Dravite

XP Award:

• Acrobatics +1
• Foraging +1
• Horsemanship +2
• Leadership +4
• Medicine +3
• Meditation +1
• Negotiation +1
• Observation +5
• Philosophy +1
• Rhetoric +1
• Riding +3
• Singing +2
• Socialization +3
• Subterfuge +2
• Teaching +1
• Tracking +1
• Weapon: Spear +1
• Webbing +5
• Wilderness Survival: Plains +1

Lore:

• Building a fire
• Dangerous possibility of getting lost in the web
• Horsemanship: A gentle tone to soothe a horse
• Horsemanship: Shifting shadows might spook a horse
• Leadership: Knowing when those following you need a break
• Leadership: Lead through action
• Location: The Itrod River
• Location: The Serenity Tree
• Lost in the Web
• Medicine: Best to wash injuries
• Medicine: Honey to help with healing
• Medicine: Wrapping a wound
• Observation: Recognizing patterns
• Philosophy: Look to the Serenity Tree to find strength
• Subterfuge: Telling a lie
• The Web a magical tie to anything you wish
• The Web is a Drykas magic, not one for sharing
• The Web is repaired! Well, mostly.
• The Web is Sacred
• Tracking: Walk on grass to keep from leaving obvious prints
• What to do with a misbehaving Strider
• Wild hogs dig for their meals
• Voices in The Web
• Zith: A dangerous enemy

Awards: :

Black talon from a Zith

Notes: Great thread! You really packed in the skills at the end there. Let me know if you feel I missed anything or if you have any questions.

Name:Belhatir

XP Award:

• Acrobatics +2
• Medicine +1
• Observation +5
• Riding +4
• Socialization +5
• Weapon: Axe +1

Lore:

• Anger formed of grief and guilt
• Dravite: Often lost in the Web
• Dravite: Not a good singer
• Jakovi: A foolhardy young man
• Jakovi: Lost to the Sea
• Medicine: Wrapping a wound
• Riding: Mounting a horse
• The downsides to ignoring your father
• The smell of rotting flesh
• The Web is a magical tie to anything you wish
• The Web is sacred magic
• Zith: A dangerous enemy

Awards: :

Claw mark scratches, will heal to scars Wound to shoulder, will heal but leaves a small scar. Torn muscle in side, will heal, but leaves an ache in humidity and rain.

Notes: You are getting better at adding in skills, but a little more detail and perhaps thought process (IC, not OOC) will get you more skills and lores to play around with. Please PM me if you have questions or concerns about your grade!