21st Day of Spring, 509 AV
“Well? Anything?!”
Unstable impatience marred an already agitated tone as the apprentice, swathed in sanctified steel, continued to snarl his way through endless wilderness he now found himself perpetually enveloped by.
Damnable spring foliage, thick and towering like the sacred spires of Ravok’s own divine temples chattered endlessly around him him with the rustling of overbearing leaves and the swarming buzz of the insects they held host to. From every angle the wilds seem to close in on the wayward soul so very far from his comforts, threatening him, taunting him, making his skin crawl with each wayward breeze and distant crunch of twigs. It was unbearable!
Not even his Ebonstryfe regalia could spare him this turmoil, as Syna, in her merciless vendetta against all those unlucky enough to find themselves caught outside of Rhysol's gracious shelter, seemed intent on baking the Caldera alive within his clanking assortment of somber black plate mail and leather. Two poor choices of attire whose unsuitability was only compounded upon further by the shadowy fur lining of his armor’s collar. Usually the tall array of dire wolf fur helped make the apprentice seem bigger than he was, grander and more intimidating to those lowly pissants he lorded over on a daily basis. Today however, he was so drenched in his own sweat and misery the collar looked more like a wet dog’s mane than anything else, sagging pathetically about his head while he lumbered along amidst the uncaring trees.
Oh, how he despised the outdoors...
Elias hated it with a passion in fact, and every bug that had to be swatted or strange animal call he couldn’t quite place only served to remind him of that fact with each passing tick he was forced to be out here.…
Though rarely forced to confront the truth as he was now, Elias was a city boy, through and through. The treacherous back alleys and breathtakingly beautiful canals of Ravok were his bread and butter, so to speak, as the most holy city was where he thrived, and he did so because of one simple reason; in Ravok he knew, without a shadow of doubt, where he stood in this world, and in turn where everyone else around him stood in comparison. It was this mundane understanding that kept him alive and hungry when every one else was either out to get him, or fell to side of the path, broken and undone by a city callous to the suffering of those who could not withstand its ceaseless trials. Out here though… Elias had no petching idea what the hell he was doing, and he very much doubted the monsters and mysteries which both drunkards and veterans alike whispered about in hushed tones had failed to sense as much for themselves either. He must have seemed like a neatly wrapped meal, hot and ready to be devoured by half the horrors that occupied these wretched wilds.
This petching kid better be worth it! He hissed to himself, mind awash with all manner of indecent and borderline heretical thoughts at that moment. He hadn’t even the words for what nastiness was now plaguing his brain when it came to the bitch of a paladin who had flung him into such turmoil without so much as a ‘thank you’ or a promise of reward upon his valiant return. No, nothing of the sort for little, insignificant Elias, for that would be too courteous of one of her magnanimous station, wouldn’t it! The apprentice couldn’t wait for the inevitable day he was anointed paladin himself, for the innate ability to channel their unremitting assholery like a weapon, or order about petty underlings like himself as one would a slave, was surely reward in-of-itself, not to mention all the other perks Rhysol bestowed upon his ranked chosen.
Until that faithful however…
“Kendel, you subhuman petch, have you found him or not! I swear if I have to come in there myself, I’m going to-” The Ravokian’s harsh bellowing had been directed at nothing but the ancient oaks and endless greenery before him, no clear target for his threats in sight, yet the crinkling of leaves eventually answered him none the less. Slave to instincts that had been beaten into him by his instructors at the Vitrax, the apprentice’s hand went immediately to the hilt of his longsword despite knowing full well what was crawling its way out of those woods.
“Kendel!”
The black and brown blood hound poked its head out of the underbrush and looked up at him with a familiar dimwitted and droopy eyed expression that Elias had come to loath. “Well, have you found him or not? I’ve been standing here with my thumb up my ass for nearly half a bell now, you stupid mutt!” The dog, to Elias ever increasing chagrin, merely raised a placid brow at his frothing anger, before nonchalantly turning around and plodding its way back into the forest. Disappearing behind a nearby tree, the Caldera crossed his gauntleted arms and began patting a greave anxiously against the grass underfoot.
A tick later, a tall, tanned man emerged from behind the bark, wearing nothing but the frown on his clean cut face. Thin, sinewy muscles covered this new form from head to toe, but there was nary an inch of him that didn’t bear some gruesome assortment of scars and poorly healed wounds that made even Elias uncomfortable to look at. His body was a tapestry of pain and prices paid, but the man who had endured it all couldn’t have been further from the sort one expected to bear such grizzly reminders. “You know, all you stryfers are the same,” the strong figure sighed, hands on his hips as he regarded the young warrior pitifully, “always yelling at this and barking at that, it’s no wonder the whole order isn’t out of commission by now after popping a blood vessel or blowing out a hemorrhoid.”
Kendel shook his shaggy head sorrowfully, long matted black hear shaking along with it as made his way over to the discarded pack lying at the dismal soldier's feet. By the time he had finished rummaging through its contents, found his clothes within, dressed, and was upright again, the irritated twitch in Elias’s eye had grown more than just a little noticeable.
In the beginning the apprentice couldn’t fathom why the paladin, who had gone so far as to pull him aside during morning prayers no less, would assign the uppity kelvic to help him find the boy they were ordered to look for, especially if this task truly necessitated as much secrecy as the dire woman had implied in her somber tone. Yet, there the Kelvic had been, waiting for him at the docks, apparently with the same orders and information as the stryfer in training had. Considering the hurried and hassled nature of his mission, Elias was willing to overlook the other man’s lack of credentials or signed documents lest he faced the wrath of an annoyed officer who clearly wanted her will carried out as soon as possible, and not to be bothered with pestering questions of her lessers.
The journey the two impromptu partners shared from the city to the shoreline had been a long one to say the least. Incessantly trying the Caldera’s patience at every opportunity, blatantly disregarding etiquette or the respect for authority his natural born betters had over him, and wielding a sense of humor so abysmal Elias had nearly abandoned ship more than once, the four bells it had taken to get to their destination had been some of the most trying the young man had ever faced in his particularly demanding life. A part of him had even begun to wonder if this was the dreaded Crucible he was meant to endure one day.
Of course, Kendel proved his worth as soon as they hit the southern outpost and Elias realized he had little to no clue where to first look for their target. As the kelvic had put it so eloquently at the begging of their hunt; ‘nothings better suited to finding folk who don’t wanna be found in this world than a blood hound’s noise.’
That had been nearly a full bell ago however, and after waiting so long for these miraculous results he had been promised, the swordsman hadn’t quite decided if he was going to turn his blade on the kelvic or himself just yet. His lips moved to make such a threat clear to the overly jovial bastard, but before the words had left him, Kendel’s finger shot up into the air and curtly interrupted. “Smile, master Caldera, I’ve found the scent. You can consider us officially on his trail."
The edges of the young warrior’s mouth quivered ever so slightly at the delightful revelation, and Kendel sighed in begrudging relent when he recognized that was the extent of his comrade’s excitement. Elias ignored the lanky man, pushing past him and taking off in the direction the kelvic had pointed out.
Finally…, the Ravokian mused as he sliced and smashed his way through the brush without single a care for discretion or subtlety. There was only one thing on his mind now, only one thing that could spare him this torture and see him returned to his beloved city upon the lake.
Only one person he needed to find…
I’m coming for you, Faircroft!
Unstable impatience marred an already agitated tone as the apprentice, swathed in sanctified steel, continued to snarl his way through endless wilderness he now found himself perpetually enveloped by.
Damnable spring foliage, thick and towering like the sacred spires of Ravok’s own divine temples chattered endlessly around him him with the rustling of overbearing leaves and the swarming buzz of the insects they held host to. From every angle the wilds seem to close in on the wayward soul so very far from his comforts, threatening him, taunting him, making his skin crawl with each wayward breeze and distant crunch of twigs. It was unbearable!
Not even his Ebonstryfe regalia could spare him this turmoil, as Syna, in her merciless vendetta against all those unlucky enough to find themselves caught outside of Rhysol's gracious shelter, seemed intent on baking the Caldera alive within his clanking assortment of somber black plate mail and leather. Two poor choices of attire whose unsuitability was only compounded upon further by the shadowy fur lining of his armor’s collar. Usually the tall array of dire wolf fur helped make the apprentice seem bigger than he was, grander and more intimidating to those lowly pissants he lorded over on a daily basis. Today however, he was so drenched in his own sweat and misery the collar looked more like a wet dog’s mane than anything else, sagging pathetically about his head while he lumbered along amidst the uncaring trees.
Oh, how he despised the outdoors...
Elias hated it with a passion in fact, and every bug that had to be swatted or strange animal call he couldn’t quite place only served to remind him of that fact with each passing tick he was forced to be out here.…
Though rarely forced to confront the truth as he was now, Elias was a city boy, through and through. The treacherous back alleys and breathtakingly beautiful canals of Ravok were his bread and butter, so to speak, as the most holy city was where he thrived, and he did so because of one simple reason; in Ravok he knew, without a shadow of doubt, where he stood in this world, and in turn where everyone else around him stood in comparison. It was this mundane understanding that kept him alive and hungry when every one else was either out to get him, or fell to side of the path, broken and undone by a city callous to the suffering of those who could not withstand its ceaseless trials. Out here though… Elias had no petching idea what the hell he was doing, and he very much doubted the monsters and mysteries which both drunkards and veterans alike whispered about in hushed tones had failed to sense as much for themselves either. He must have seemed like a neatly wrapped meal, hot and ready to be devoured by half the horrors that occupied these wretched wilds.
This petching kid better be worth it! He hissed to himself, mind awash with all manner of indecent and borderline heretical thoughts at that moment. He hadn’t even the words for what nastiness was now plaguing his brain when it came to the bitch of a paladin who had flung him into such turmoil without so much as a ‘thank you’ or a promise of reward upon his valiant return. No, nothing of the sort for little, insignificant Elias, for that would be too courteous of one of her magnanimous station, wouldn’t it! The apprentice couldn’t wait for the inevitable day he was anointed paladin himself, for the innate ability to channel their unremitting assholery like a weapon, or order about petty underlings like himself as one would a slave, was surely reward in-of-itself, not to mention all the other perks Rhysol bestowed upon his ranked chosen.
Until that faithful however…
“Kendel, you subhuman petch, have you found him or not! I swear if I have to come in there myself, I’m going to-” The Ravokian’s harsh bellowing had been directed at nothing but the ancient oaks and endless greenery before him, no clear target for his threats in sight, yet the crinkling of leaves eventually answered him none the less. Slave to instincts that had been beaten into him by his instructors at the Vitrax, the apprentice’s hand went immediately to the hilt of his longsword despite knowing full well what was crawling its way out of those woods.
“Kendel!”
The black and brown blood hound poked its head out of the underbrush and looked up at him with a familiar dimwitted and droopy eyed expression that Elias had come to loath. “Well, have you found him or not? I’ve been standing here with my thumb up my ass for nearly half a bell now, you stupid mutt!” The dog, to Elias ever increasing chagrin, merely raised a placid brow at his frothing anger, before nonchalantly turning around and plodding its way back into the forest. Disappearing behind a nearby tree, the Caldera crossed his gauntleted arms and began patting a greave anxiously against the grass underfoot.
A tick later, a tall, tanned man emerged from behind the bark, wearing nothing but the frown on his clean cut face. Thin, sinewy muscles covered this new form from head to toe, but there was nary an inch of him that didn’t bear some gruesome assortment of scars and poorly healed wounds that made even Elias uncomfortable to look at. His body was a tapestry of pain and prices paid, but the man who had endured it all couldn’t have been further from the sort one expected to bear such grizzly reminders. “You know, all you stryfers are the same,” the strong figure sighed, hands on his hips as he regarded the young warrior pitifully, “always yelling at this and barking at that, it’s no wonder the whole order isn’t out of commission by now after popping a blood vessel or blowing out a hemorrhoid.”
Kendel shook his shaggy head sorrowfully, long matted black hear shaking along with it as made his way over to the discarded pack lying at the dismal soldier's feet. By the time he had finished rummaging through its contents, found his clothes within, dressed, and was upright again, the irritated twitch in Elias’s eye had grown more than just a little noticeable.
In the beginning the apprentice couldn’t fathom why the paladin, who had gone so far as to pull him aside during morning prayers no less, would assign the uppity kelvic to help him find the boy they were ordered to look for, especially if this task truly necessitated as much secrecy as the dire woman had implied in her somber tone. Yet, there the Kelvic had been, waiting for him at the docks, apparently with the same orders and information as the stryfer in training had. Considering the hurried and hassled nature of his mission, Elias was willing to overlook the other man’s lack of credentials or signed documents lest he faced the wrath of an annoyed officer who clearly wanted her will carried out as soon as possible, and not to be bothered with pestering questions of her lessers.
The journey the two impromptu partners shared from the city to the shoreline had been a long one to say the least. Incessantly trying the Caldera’s patience at every opportunity, blatantly disregarding etiquette or the respect for authority his natural born betters had over him, and wielding a sense of humor so abysmal Elias had nearly abandoned ship more than once, the four bells it had taken to get to their destination had been some of the most trying the young man had ever faced in his particularly demanding life. A part of him had even begun to wonder if this was the dreaded Crucible he was meant to endure one day.
Of course, Kendel proved his worth as soon as they hit the southern outpost and Elias realized he had little to no clue where to first look for their target. As the kelvic had put it so eloquently at the begging of their hunt; ‘nothings better suited to finding folk who don’t wanna be found in this world than a blood hound’s noise.’
That had been nearly a full bell ago however, and after waiting so long for these miraculous results he had been promised, the swordsman hadn’t quite decided if he was going to turn his blade on the kelvic or himself just yet. His lips moved to make such a threat clear to the overly jovial bastard, but before the words had left him, Kendel’s finger shot up into the air and curtly interrupted. “Smile, master Caldera, I’ve found the scent. You can consider us officially on his trail."
The edges of the young warrior’s mouth quivered ever so slightly at the delightful revelation, and Kendel sighed in begrudging relent when he recognized that was the extent of his comrade’s excitement. Elias ignored the lanky man, pushing past him and taking off in the direction the kelvic had pointed out.
Finally…, the Ravokian mused as he sliced and smashed his way through the brush without single a care for discretion or subtlety. There was only one thing on his mind now, only one thing that could spare him this torture and see him returned to his beloved city upon the lake.
Only one person he needed to find…
I’m coming for you, Faircroft!
