Holiday in the Sun RPG

[Carrûn]

The sun shown down without pity on the man dressed entirely in black. It had been some weeks since he had passed Erech. Dol Amroth and was drawing close and he could feel the roots of the Sea call to him. He was walking in a lazy slow fashion, almost as if drunk from the rays that beat down upon him. In reality all muscles in his body were coiled like a spring, ready to be unleasehd at any second. His thoughts elsewhere, he tripped over a stone in the rode and uttered a stream of black curses as he picked himself up. Inspecting the rock closly a wry smile crept up on his lips and threatened to linger there longer than an observer might have guessed. So you have been here my estranged brethern. No doubt you put it where you knew my feet would "find it." May your ale turn forever sour, your ears stop, and your eyes grow blind. "Humourous!" He shouted in case any of them where still within shouting distance. The signs were but a few days old at the most. What were you doing so far South? Tsch..that is not my concern.

Reading the signs of the people of the North he straightened up and looked off in the distance to the South. His green eyes strained and while he caught no sign of dust or flame in the distance the weathered man could feel a great strain in the Earth as if Arda itself was somehow in protest. "Strange signs," he murmmered. Glancing at the stone one more time he scuffed a few marks of his own on the other side and tossed it away. To all but the most skilled it was just another stone on the wayside. He fingered his nearest knife lovingly and, making sure his sword was at least somewhat concealed by his cloak, continued on his way; eyes and ears alert for the slightest change in his surroundings.

It could have been nothing more than a change in the dance of a leaf of grass or the song of the wind, but it was enough and Awyrgan threw himself flat upon the ground, drawing two knives instictively as he did so. Looking up, he happended to glance the two bloodshot eyes and gaping mouth of teeth as they sprang. By luck and skill he managed to role over as the great shape leaped over top of him, giving him time to regain his feet. Missing its attack the wolf turned and, growling, moved in again.

The two circled each other, green eyes locked with red, each showing their teeth and daring the other to make the first move. It was purely animalistic, like two stags clashing over territory. But the red-eyed wolf was young and lacked the patience of the green-eyed "wolf." He sprang suddenly, but Awyrgan sidesteped and brought the knife in a quick slash across the creature's nose. "Búrz glob - skai!," the man taunted. Engraged by the words and fuled on by the taste of its own blood the creature charged again, its mouth wide open with intent to bite its prey in two. The man ducked swiftly, avoiding the teeth but could not completely avoid the heavy paw which cuffed him soundly on the shoulder and pulled him down to the ground. Cursing in the tounges of men and wolves they rolled locked together, knives and claws showing no mercy nor expecting any. Experience soon won out over blind rage and with a twist of a knife it was finally over.

Wiping the two weapons on the dead creature Awyrgan replaced them in their sheaths and drew another, with a single edge and slight curve. With this he carefuly skinned the wolf and dragged its carcass off into a nearby grove of trees away from the road. He cut off what he hoped to be an edible portion of meat, for he had not eaten in days. Wrapping it in leaves, he placed both it and the skin in a bag. Perhaps when I arrive someone might enjoy a wolf rug. It's almost large enough to pitch it as a Warg, that should increase its value. He glanced up at the Sun. Bright One, you are cruel to me these days. It had been more than a day since he had found a source of water and his container was empty. He sniffed the air and his eyes flashed. Behind a tree to the left of the path a small stream was forcing its way out of the ground. Refilling his watersking he readjusted his equipment and returned to the path.

Almost as an afterthought he looked himself over. He had some uncomfortable scratches but some hot water would fix them without too much trouble. That can wait until nightfall. No sense lighting a fire twice. That pup gave me more trouble than he should have, I am out of practice. I had better not be loosing my edge. With that final thought he strode off again down the path, singing softly. His words were not out of tune but they followed no common pattern, as if he was putting the words to sound as they came to his mind. He fingered a small silver ring on his left index finger with blue jewel set in it as he sang.

The higher I climb the futher I fall,
The longer I walk the longer I crawl.

I look up know but I see you not,
Those who have gone before me;
and those who might have followed me.

Condemned am I to walk these circles,
Until I no longer can.

The sillouette on the road of the man was as dark as his mood as he strode southwards towards Dol Amroth.

[ February 04, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]