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Southern Tarkima
Clan Brakor Territory 
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A small herd of deer, no more then a dozen, were found serenely grazing the snow-blanketed forests of Southern Tarkima, despite being a land rife with violence and inter-clan warfare, even the barbaric north holds a sense of beauty in its environment, not too far from the grazing deer was a small hunting group, a group of four men slowly making their advance towards the herd, bows in hand and ready to strike. At the lead of the four men was none other then Firgus Holen, Chieftain of the Brakor Clan. Flanking him was his right-hand man, Olaf Tarin, a long time friend and brother of the Chieftain, along the two were two members of Firgus' oathsworn. Firgus raised his hand as the herd was within sight. "Alright lads, bows ready." He whispered, pulling out an arrow and readying his bow, his party doing the same as they all took for their respective targets. Firgus begun to tremble as he took him, something Olaf had taken notice of. "Losing your nerve already friend?" Olaf quipped. 

"Ha! Just you watch!" He laughed as he let go of his arrow, the others soon following, within moments just one deer had dropped to the ground, the rest scattering out into the forest, blood staining the snow. Firgus had a satisfied look on his face, turning smugly to Olaf who then simply rolled his eyes as he and the others approached their kill. "Come on friend, what troubles your mind?" 

Firgus let out a big sigh as he bent down and hauled up the large deer onto his shoulder. "It's Elina."

"Ahhhh, I see." Olaf replied, pausing a moment to lift up his own deer. "Firgus, she's a fine and strong young woman now. She can look after herself, and she won't be alone."

"I know that." He sighed once more. "It nonetheless chills my nerves...she hasn't been far out of my sight since she first stood on her two legs. Ever since her mother passed on." Soon the four begun their return trip to the carts, followed by their trip back home. "She's soon to be married." Olaf said. "And the boy to ask her hand has been pretty damn persistent in pleasing you, I think your Elina is in good hands."

"Perhaps...the boy did punch out a godsdamn grizzly..."

"And even brought you the hide!" 

"....You could be right, brother. Still I can't help but wor-" Firgus was abruptly interrupted as a loud beastly roar was heard, from the trees came bursting tall white-furred [url=https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0ec977e1-a1fa-4363-ad56-8af8e8d13935.png]beast[/url], a pair of horns protruding from it's skull. "YETI!" one of the guards cried out, pulling out his sword and charging forth at the beast. His sword managing to pierce through the beast's hide, crying out in pain, the enraged Yeti swung it's arm towards the guard, flying him towards a tree. The others had followed, and pulling their swords, letting out the Tarkiman war cry and charged, encircling and swinging their swords at the beast. But the Yeti would not relent, and grabbed a hold on the other guard, tossing him towards a broken tree, the poor young man impaled by a particularity sharp edge of the damaged tree. In that small moment, Olaf swung his blade, but his timing was off, and had missed the Yeti by a hair. He stumbled and maintained his pose, turning to face the beast, a thought clicked in his head. "Wait..what the hell am I doing?!?" He cursed to himself as he tossed the blade aside, and clasped his hands together, and begun praying. In the chaos of the fight, poor Olaf had forgotten the fact that he was a Mage, a member of the Ursya Priesthood to be exact. His hands split apart as blue flames begun to manifiest on the palms of his hands, and within that instant he caste his flame magic upon the beast, the flames searing the flesh off it's arm, it had fallen down on its kneels from the sheer pain. "Now Firgus!" he shouted.

Without hesitation, frigus made one last charge towards the yeti, slicing off it's charred arm, followed by piercing through it's chest, straight into its heart, in mere seconds the Yeti had gone limp, life leaving its eyes, Firgus rose one leg up and pushed the beast back to liberate his blade. 

All was now quiet and calm for a moment, firgus breathing in and out in rapid succession, the thrill of the skirmish just exiting his system. All the sudden, both Firgus and Olaf had a fit of laughter. "Still as spiry as ever!" Firgus cried out, smacking the old man's back. The laughter unfortunately was cut short as he, olaf and the wounded guard took notice of their dying comrade, a few minute pass as they worked to free him from the tree, and place him on the ground. "Oh Gods..." the first guard muttered as he saw his brother-in-arms in his last moments, a gaping hole in his chest. He turned to Olaf with a desperate facial expression. "You must do someone! Can your magic not reverse this?!" Olaf sadly shook his head, "My boy, this is beyond my healing magic...I'm afraid we can not do much for the poor lad..." 

In a but a small moment of life, the dying guard struggled to utter a word. "I...serve.." he continued to struggle.

"No need to say a thing." Firgus said kindly, grasping his hand. "You've done your chieftain, your clan and your family proud, know this as you come to the loving embrace of the Forge Mother."

The Oathsworn made one last smile before he had finally passed on. More time had passed as the three worked to give the young warrior a proper burial worthy of a Tarkiman, a large pile of stones covering his body, his blade piercing the ground in front of the pile. The once again had a moment of silence as they resumed their journey to the carts and onward to home.