Faron

The Clearest of Minds

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

The day had been taken by the obsidian sheet of night, and the woods that protected Gelvira’s hut, grew quiet of the birds chirping as the creatures of night patrolled instead. She found herself being here less, as she took frequent trips to visit her love, at her new home, situated in a small hamlet on the outskirts of Bree.

Dreams of loss

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

The tiny bed in Heriwulf's tiny room was actually full to and beyond its limits, but felt, somehow, empty. Three hounds, any of which could stretch to fill the whole bed, shared it with him. Brunan, the matriarch of the pack, now getting a bit of grey in her dark fur; Hundr, the youngest (at least until Brunan's last litter) and most playful of the pack; and Niht, the implacable and tireless husky. Most nights, one of the three might sleep at the foot of the bed, while the others stayed outside, with the pups, or helping to patrol the stockade; they never shared the bed.

A Moot of Woodmen

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Based off of the RPed Woodmen Clan Moot, 16 February. Observations and introspections from Arastal's point of view.

The only way out is through

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

In the space of a single sennight, everything in Heriwulf's life had been turned upside down. They were all good changes, but they were exhausting, too, full of risks and challenges, demands and urgency, and the promise of things ending much better, soon. Or becoming the source of yet more regrets to hang about his neck.

From within or without

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

There was no question in Heriwulf's mind anymore. He should never have let Faron make him promise to offer himself as chieftain. Or he should never have accepted the position. Now he wondered, though, was it really about that position, farcical as it was, or was it just him?

Chieftain or hound-friend?

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Fortunately, pups don't take a lot of care, especially in the first few fortnights when their eyes aren't even open yet and they can't do much more than waddle and nurse. But that's also unfortunate, because tending the pups was the best part of Heriwulf's day.

A Curious Sensation

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Ljota didn't sleep. After Hildegund left, the skin-changer only stretched out her long legs and stared at her bedroom ceiling in the dark. She hadn't felt like starting a fire when she came in, and she certainly wasn't going to bother with it now.

Putting on a brave face

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

There is something about having a litter of pups that lifts the spirits. Perhaps that's true for everyone, but if so, it may be more true for someone like Heriwulf, who spends so much of his life's energy on the care of hounds that their spirits influence his. In the past he'd always found this cheering up to be welcome, for he tended to be a serious and sometimes dour fellow, his eyes fixed on the pragmatic needs of the day, his heart darkened by the tragedies he'd seen and endured, his outlook tending towards the pessimistic. Or so people told him.

Scenes on a woodland path outside Staddle

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

It only took one time making the long hike from Staddle to the lodge, carrying two bales of hay, for Heriwulf to conclude that there had to be another way. Bales of hay don't weigh very much; surely carrying two over the few miles through the Chetwood would be no great hardship, particularly if he had the whole day to do it, two bales at a time over several journeys?

The weight of leading the pack

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

After a few weeks of being the nominal Chieftain of his tiny clan, Heriwulf still hadn't had a moment when the weight of that position fell upon him suddenly, startlingly, uncomfortably. On the contrary, he'd settled into that position quite easily, because it had really had very little effect on anything.

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