66th Day of Fall, 510 A.V. It was a the breeze that made it cold, so late in the fall. Clouds began to cover the sky more often now, and Syna’s light shined less often. Still, the weather didn’t deter the Drykas male from doing his duty. It didn’t deter anything of them. If none of them did what each of them were raised to do, born to do, the tent city would have burned to the ground years ago. Everyone did what they had to to survive, and part of that knowing what has passed and what might be coming. A single man stood out among the sea of grass, his Strider not far off from him. He was a tall man, standing nearly 6’ 3” tall, and a large, if not round, build, his body covered in scale male. A scythe was strapped to his back, it's blade long and sharp with a fine tip. Almost blood red hair, tied back into a tail, reached down to the mid of his back, and a half beard of the same color lined his chin and upper lip. Green eyes slowly gazed down along the ground, studying it for a long moment. His face was stern as a large and thick fingers tugged lightly along the strands of his facial hair. A light whinny from his strider drew his attention for a moment before a calm deep voice echoed from his lips. “No Balvye,” the man said, “it’s just small wear and tear. Nothing old Daed can't take care of. Perhaps the young whelp who keeps taking up my daughter’s time will come along soon and see how it’s done, if he has any actual interest in such.” Daed then raised his hands, bringing them in a loud slap together, djed slowly beginning to swirl within the center of his body, splitting off in two separate directions as they began to slowly travel through his arms. The Web was essential for Drykas to monitor the movements in the land they so deeply inhabited, and Daed Whitefeather, of the Opal Clan, was one who was charged with maintaining the web, and thusly the safety of Edrykas and his people in all. |