[center][h2][color=gray]Ekotone Clade[/color][/h2][/center]

[color=yellow]Setting: The North-West Eidolon Plains[/color]


	Of the many clades found across Eidolon culture, the Ekotone were a small collective of bands already in the fringes of the North West plains. Following the strife south and east of the Ekotone, another, more numerous clade had turned into an alliance and their rapid change in policies saw the Ekotone pushed further north. The reason for this was the Ekotone were herders, and without the pastures their ancestors used, they had no choice but to start their migration to greener fields, away from the strife.

	That’s where they found themselves currently. The Night Lord’s grasp was on the sky and the more respectable members of the (informally) leading band known as the Bolog were asleep after long talks about turning the bands of the clade into an alliance. While nothing was decided upon, it was becoming increasingly clear that a leader was going to be needed during these troubled times, but these worries weren’t on the mind of Cabel at the moment.

	Cabel was a young man with broad shoulders and a hunter’s physique revealed by a simple woolen shirt that hung down to his knees and belted at the waist — but he also held the soft eyes of a shepherd still ripe with idealism. His mother was the leader of the Bolog and the sole reason his band was likely still intact after the strife of the exodus. Even still, his thoughts weren’t on that as he sat down on a wicker bin tipped upside down, his hands between his knees and his eyes on the old Salter known as Farro.

	Next to him sat his friend since birth, Tarowwe, a bulkier man with showy, curved horns, big friendly eyes and a slack jawed grin. Tarowwe was holding in a laugh as he listened to Farro, the old salter’s words amusing a small group of young men and women — all but Cabel, who withdrew a smile, eyes focused on Farro.

	“So you see,” Farro continued, “Gorga the Jealous had crafted the perfect trap for her victim, one that she was sure would capture Hurnarin so she could wed him.”

	“But Hurnarin fell in battle in the last tale,” a stray woman corrected.

	Farro held up a finger. “Yes! So Gorga fashioned a tool similar to that of a field spider and up in her cloud pasture she cast it out down to the fields below. Like the silk of the spider, her line was invisible, but at the very end she baited it with a beautiful woman — a puppet to her whims — in the hopes of capturing Hurnarin.”

	“I can tell you who it [i]would[/i] have captured.” Tarowwe elbowed Cabel, but Cabel only gave him a half-hearted smirk.

	“Unable to find Hurnarin, Gorga still sits on her cloud, her line cast and bait ready — so if you find a strange and beautiful girl in the middle of nowhere who seems a little too eager to give you a hug, perhaps it is Gorga’s trap.” Farro continued.

	“Worst case,” Tarowwe spoke loud now, enough for Farro to also hear. “I could try inviting her into my tent, if she is strung to a cloud she won’t be able to enter and if she isn’t — I have a beautiful girl in my tent.”

	Farro rolled his eyes. “It seems the legacy of Hurnarin lives on in the breasts of some.” He sniffed idly. “Well, the night lord has taken the sky, so off to bed for another day — I’m sure Chief Halinda has plenty for us to do in the morning.”

	Shallow groans and deep yawns followed the instruction as the listeners hobbled away, tired and sleepy. Even with how bright the moon was that night, it only took a handful of steps to be turned into a silhouetted blur and once the only people left in the small alcove behind the storage tents were Cabel, Tarowwe, and Farro — the old man raised a brow.

	“Not leaving?”

	“You know a lot of stories,” Cabel suddenly said.

	“A long life brings many,” Farro answered, cocking his head. Cabel stared at Farro with an intensity that mirrored a growing fire in his stomach. The young man fidgeted, his fingers shaking. Next to him, he could see Tarowwe’s posture also change, his friend standing up straight and squaring his shoulders.

	“What is this?” Farro glanced between the two, but his eyes never met Cabel’s. 
	
	Cabel held out a hand, extending his palm. “Shake my hand.”


	“Cabel, this is ridiculous —”

	“Shake his hand, Salter,” Tarowwe growled, giving his friend some resolve. Cabel took a step forward but Farro tried to step back. Launching a hand out, Cabel caught Farro by the shoulder and pulled him back into the conflict. The old man stumbled in and Tarowwe grabbed the back of his neck. A sharp sensation came flooding up Cabel’s arm as his body translated the emotions of Farro.

	“What am I feeling?” Cabel demanded of Farro, but the old man blubbered. Cabel furrowed his brow and looked at Tarowwe. A pang of worry entered his stomach, Cabel hadn’t hoped for this outcome.

	“I feel his hunger,” Tarowwe looked over at Cabel with sad eyes. “Your mother was right.” 

	Farro fell limp to his knees, nearly causing the two boys to collapse along with him. “Don’t kill me!” He begged.

	The display sent Cabel’s stomach squirming and put a cold press on his mind. He closed his eyes. “We won’t.”

	“Really?” Cabel could feel Farro looking up at him, likely with big pleading eyes, but he kept his own eyes shut. The old man’s body fidgeted under his grasp, but then Tarowwe’s strength pushed him still.

	“Yes, just copy me and close your eyes, we are going to take you away from here. No one has to know why, okay?” Cabel could hear his own words coming out smoothly, though his own mind was racing. He could feel his breathing shallow, and from the sounds coming from Tarowwe, he wasn’t the only one disturbed by the task before him.

	“Okay?” Tarowwe reiterated, though his voice was shaky.

	“Oka-” Farro’s words turned to a panicked gurgle and a warm trickle poured over Cabel’s left hand, his fist up against the old man’s throat and his knife hidden inside the dying Vertan’s artery. A sick feeling rose up Cabel’s throat, but he burped it back.

	“We are just taking you away from here, don’t panic.”

	“Don’t panic.”

	“Don’t panic.”

	The words were practiced — often heard by rams before slaughter.

[hider=Summary]

We meet the Ekotone Clade’s premier band, the Bolog. This clade has been run out of their ancestral fields by growing centralization of neighboring clades and the strife in the south. On their exodus North West, they stop to share stories and here we find our heroes Cabel and Tarowwe listening to the tales of Farro.

The story is about some old folk tales and folk monsters but the important bit is that once everyone leaves for bed, our heroes stay behind to confront Farro. Turns out he is a Vertan and Cabel kills him, albeit hesitantly and in the same manner he slaughters rams. Surprise Yesaris week post errybody.[/hider]