[hider=Elun'uiga, Widu Tu'vat Guardian of the Ancient Woods]
Among the peoples of Geryon and the lands beyond, many distinct cultures with their own, varying traditions exist, reaching varying levels of incomprehensibility to their increasingly distant cousins. Among the most strange and culturally distant from the rest, perhaps, are the Widu Tu'vat dwelling in the densely forested valleys and montane forests unclaimed by, so untouched by the ravages of civilization that one might think they were habited by nothing greater than simple, animal life. By many, these Widu Tu'vat were considered a strange, inscrutable, and oftentimes dangerous folk, if only because they were so poorly understood.

Edmund Ædelræd, the enterprising adventurer that he was, knew better than most common folk. Where there was mystery, there was surely fame to be found, perhaps even riches - or so he thought, mere days ago.

Now, sprinting through the forest, twigs crunching beneath the hooves of his steed, he wished he'd stayed home. Cuthbert - his squire - was only a short distance behind him, fear ever-present in the teenage boy's eyes.

"Keep your head down, lad - and don't you dare stop!" Edmund snapped, quietly as he could manage. Perhaps whatever had been following them had lost them, he hoped. He hadn't been so lucky as to catch a glimpse of their pursuer, but whatever it was, its intent was made clear by the flurry of arrows that speared his bodyguards through while in the middle of donning their armor. He'd been quick enough to mount his steed and run, squire in tow - but only narrowly.

Worse, he could *hear* the creature following them, leaping from bough to bough, the only signs of its passage being the rustling of leaves and the sickening delighted, sadistic giggles that seemed to echo from all around him. Whether the source was male or female, he couldn't tell - he was too busy listening to the thump of his heart against his rib-cage; the sound of his own ragged breaths.

Just a bit further, he reassured himself. Ahead was an old, wooden bridge, crossing over a raging river - perhaps, were he quick enough, he could use battle-magic to collapse the thing, preventing his pursuers from following? Just a little bit further, and...

Suddenly, his steed froze, whinnying, adamantly refusing to move even an inch further. "Move, stupid beast! Come on!" He barked in frustration, kicking the horse's sides. It remained unmoving.

Casting a glance at Cuthbert, he noticed his squire was undergoing the very same struggle, both animals stopped dead as if arrested by some foul magic. A flash of dark, grey fur crossed his field of vision - and he suddenly found himself, without warning, groaning in pain, his body slamming to the ground with a loud thud. Still, his steeds did nothing. 

He began to push himself up, only to find a powerful force slamming him back against the ground. 

An enormous wolf, nearly large as a horse, its expression contorted into one of abject rage.

The giggling. In the commotion, he hadn't even noticed the absence of the source of the laughter - but now, it was back, and closer than ever. Behind him. Rolling him eyes upward, he tried to get a better look - but all he could find was the very top half of a ghostly-pale face, eyes black as the darkest nights, pointed ears poking out from beneath a forest-green hood. It tilted its head down at him in curiosity.

"Defiler." It hissed, voice now bereft of joy, dripping with only the most foul of venoms. And yet, it had a strange, almost beautiful quality to it - both entrancing and terrifying at once.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to be silenced by a growl from the beast pinning him against the dirt.

"You've come here seeking treasure, yes? Riches? Fame? Do not answer - I already know." The voice hissed, bending over to stare directly into his eyes. "I can smell it on you, knight. The scent of what you have stolen."

"I'll give it back! Don't kill me, I-"

A crow landed on a branch, nearby, then another, and another... Soon, the boughs the creature had been bounding along were crowded with black-feathered crows and ravens, squawking and cawing, as if mocking him.

"It is too late for that, little thief. His mind so small, his thoughts so selfish... The many lives you have ended to feed your lavish habits, the lives you have cut down so brazenly to fuel your forges, to build your estate... It is too late for mercy, pathetic little man." Again, the creature laughed, the sound sending a shiver down Edmund's spine.

One hand shot out, reaching for his blade while the other weaves arcane runes in the and, and-

Vomiting blood, searing pain shot through his chest - a pair of arrows, their bone-forged heads, speared into his lungs, filling them with blood. He only now just noticed the creature's bow drawn, life fading from his eyes.

Elun sighed, quietly shaking her head. A hand rested on the snarling wolf's head, a pleased sigh rumbling out from between its teeth.

"This is not your punishment to share, young, little man." She said, not even bothering to give the squire a glance.  "You will take these horses, and you will run, never to return."

Awestruck with fear, the boy could muster the wherewithal to do little but nod.
[/hider]