Fetzen

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Wenyr

The moisture suspended in the air hovering above the hot spring water made it diffiult to see any further than Wenyr's big hand could reach, but another method of propagating information proved to work rather well as the waves caused by Pleiades' involuntary splash dive reached the blacksmith. The unexpected commotion in the water almost made him spill the wine still left in his glass. A solid liquor much too tasteful to let it fall victim to such an event without remorse, but still not nearly pleasureable enough to completely distract its consumer from what was going on around him.

"Be careful! The pool's not very deep!" he shouted out into the haze, hoping that whoever had decided to go in so flamboyantly had been wise enough not to do so head first. The noise from the waves hitting the wall and enduring a mix of sploshing over and reflection cancelled out his chances to hear any of the words spoken, but a scream would have overpowered this acousting shielding he deemed. So... nobody was hurt apparently.

Little did Wenyr know about the enemy approaching him from below. A lot of things tended to be more soluble in very warm water than in cold water and the silent attack onto the contents of Pleiades' pockets had already begun. The man's own actions had also contributed to some tiny chunks directly falling into the water and now following the almost unnoticeable current towards the spring's drain. Wenyr sat in this stream, he could see the foreign bodies drift along almost next to him, and his relaxation that had just started regenerating was disrupted yet again by the sight of this unidentified debris. He had never held any opium in his hand before, let alone wet and disintegrating opium, and thus had no idea just how genius his decision not to taste, but only to inhale the smell of this piece of dirt actually was.

Couldn't people at least remove the roughest shit of their skin before going into the pool ? What if this now increasingly soft, goo-y stuff in reality was some kind of bird poop or the like ? The blacksmith was quite disgusted and heaved his not so tall, but all the more broad self out of the water in an instant. Having wrapped a large piece of cloth about himself, he took a slightly angered stroll around the water's edge in order to investigate. Soon, Pleiades and Lena came into his blurred sight.

"Hello! Did you notice that some significant dirt is..."

Wait! What ?

He spotted what looked like an odd discoloration on a rock first, then couldn't help but find it to be some substance with an eerie similarity to what he had just picked from the water.

"Is this yours ?" he asked rather sternly without addressing any of the two individuals in particular. His index finger pointed towards the opium to make clear what he was referring to. Somehow he started to feel a tiny bit odd now... Maybe he had risen out of the hot water and right into the cold air a tad too quickly for his circulation ?

---

_{Interacting with Pleiades (@The Savant) and Lena (@AliceInRedHeels)}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Wenyr Targath

Wenyr waited. And waited. And still waited...

Hadn't Na'Ri promised to be back with him in time ? The blacksmith pondered whether the girl's definition of time could be a tad different from the usual, whether his own perception had shifted or whether something entirely different had happened. Not wanting to accuse anybody of anything without further proof, his mind defaulted to the latter. Given how busy the place was right now, that wasn't implausible either.

The man's callhoused hand squeezed itself into another pocket to retrieve a somewhat worn down looking piece of parchment. Contrary to many other means of documentation, dead skin had the advantage of being recyclable as often as the color used and one's skill with a razor allowed for. Wenyr found a piece of charcoal to be perfect and maybe even some people would be surprised to see how fine his motor skills could be when it came to saving some coin. But... just what had he scribbled on there recently ? He couldn't even remember, but it looked like something mathematical. Erasing something that was written in a language as close to that of god as a mere mortal could get felt slightly sacrilegious, but he needed the drawing space right now! He tried to keep the scratching at a very mild level though for the noise tended to upset people sometimes.

Wenyr soon lost track of just how long he had already sat lonely in his corner of the inn, his mind meandering somewhere between the most practical layout of his future workshop and how much fuel he would need for it. That of course depended on how much Dawnhaven would need him and his services, which in term depended on decisions made by yet another bunch of people, possibly. He already did not look forward to the moment he'd have to confront Sunni with a painstakingly fine-tuned list of requirements in terms of raw materials. For the blacksmith it was just that, a proof of the efforts he would have made to only ask for exactly what was really needed and not any more. For the merchant however ? The man's stress level had to be somewhere between the stars by now, so Wenyr honestly anticipated his very same list to read just the following in Mr. Emberani's eyes:

• Metal ingots: Insanely heavy stuff nobody wants to carry across a mountain pass even in summer!
• Coal: This crispy black crap tends to cause dust explosions and cleaning all the dirt will make the demand for soap soar sky high!
• Grinding stones: Can't this bulwark of a man just use his teeth or finger nails to do the sharpening ? Really ?! Why does he even use a hammer ? Smacking his forehead against the hot steel should suffice...

Another example of relativity in perception standing in his way this morning...

The blacksmith ultimately found himself running out of parchment to write and draw more stuff on. Now that he had been able to inspect Dawnhaven's most immediate surroundings over the course of the last few days, coming up with a good plan for his dwelling and working place had been surprisingly tedious still. Of course he did not plan to bother the prince with meaningless internals, but he needed to get those resources -- workforce, space, material -- allocated or at least a clear decision that those wouldn't be available for him anytime soon. Nobody in Dawnhaven should think that he'd just be sitting around with his hands idling in his lap...

What Wenyr did not know at this point however was just what kind of emotional disaster zone he'd stumble into by knocking at Flynn's door. He silently enjoyed the fact that it had turned noon even though the difference was quite theoretical, then repeated his gentle, nonverbal call for attention with blissful unawareness.

---

_{Mentions/potential interactions: Flynn (@The Muse), Olivia (@The Savant))}

Once bitten, twice sparkling!

Welcome to the Guild! ...and I really like the avatar! :)

The Land of Skara: and the Songtale of the Breaking

Vodilic's red mane waved in the wind as the lycan stepped up his pace significantly. The sound of people chattering and wagons rumbling along had reinvigorated him, causing the spontaneous decision to just screw this 'shortcut' of his that had failed anyway. Almost bursting out of the forest, the rather short man found himself surrounded by tall grass reaching almost up to his hips. In the distance, he could see the merchant caravan and instantly knew he had to hurry.

If any of the people on the caravan would have turned their head in the right moment, they would have been able to spot a figure blasting down the gentle slope on a horse. Who knew when the next crossing would be and he thus would be in danger of losing their track before reaching them! That being thought, Vodilic noticed that he was almost going too fast for his own good and was near to just falling off. Luckily though that didn't happen and, some rather dangerous minutes later, he got close to the last wagon.

Vodilic had put on the best clothes he had been able to find back home for the festival. His padded fur cloak was still somewhat clean, looked quite new and had the little secret of actually containing some of his own fur. Why spend precious coin on something else if one had the ability to grow that stuff oneself ? His werewolf shape had a lot of it! It looked almost like something a noble would wear in the public with individual strands almost glistening slightly, especially at dawn or in the moon's light and also in a similar color. Beneath that was a thin, dark brown layer of leather in the form of shirt and pants. It wrapped somewhat tightly about his body, revealing his slight, soft belly and the fact he did not seem to have that much muscle. His figure really was rather small even compared to some of the merchants and he left ample room in the saddle, but still his horse breathed heavily as if just having finished a long race.

The big question was: Why on earth had he just had to pass by a burning piece of bushwork ? There was no forest fire anywhere to be seen and also no open fires on any of the wagons, at least as far as he could oversee them from behind. He pushed forward a little until reaching about the middle of the caravan, then knocked gentle at one of the wagons in order to gain some attention from its driver.

"You don't mind me tagging along for the festival, do you ?"

The driver looked more like a merchant's assistant than being a man of trade himself and almost snapped back at Vodilic: "You, too ? Just had a weirdo with a fancy hat joining us. You two belong together ?" The man pointed towards one of the other carriages further in front of him.

"No, but... thank you."

Maybe he should see who this other guy was. Apparently his 'shortcut' had failed in even another way, that of keeping him a bit away from other people...

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Wenyr Targath

The prince! Of all individuals, Wenyr had deemed the odds of the royal couple in charge of this colony being here to be the lowest. Yet there Flynn was and Wenyr could steel feel the remnants of the man's reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. If only there would be a way to preserve it, just to make it a little easier for his mind to remember this nice little moment in life. Flynn's words echoed in his ears and made him happy, a meeting would be a good thing for multiple reasons.

The prince's footsteps had barely dissipated when another sound entered his ears. The far less pleasing, because kinda irritated if not outright angry voice of... Sunni ? Yeah, that had to be right. While still somewhat unfamiliar with the average person, the few days since Wenyr's arrival had been enough to at least get to know some of them and having some sort of connection with a merchant could only be a good thing. The tone didn't fit this time though, he had never witnessed Sunni in such an emotional state yet. Had his day not been so bright this time ? For a brief moment, Wenyr considered whether he should go upstairs where the voice had emanated from and have a look, but then he remembered one of his childhood friends who had reacted to this kind of approach not so well -- sometimes people just wanted to be alone no matter whether those coming did so for the sake of aiding or not. Not adhering to that kind of insight ? Dangerous territory!

Wenyr did not feel like stepping into dangerous territory right now. Trying to troubleshoot somebody else's problems from time to time was important to keep a community together, but not in such a forced manner. Also maybe it just wasn't as bad as it sounded ? There was more action going on upstairs and Wenyr remembered some young people who apparently were the merchant's assistants. Maybe it was them ?

"Lord Coswain and knightly party, such an honour. My name is Na'Ri,"

The girl's words made Wenyr turn his head almost in an instant. He had completely missed the fact that Lord Coswain was here as well ? What a shame... on himself! The blacksmith's eyes rested on the Lord just long enough to judge that the latter was busy and thus maybe might not have noticed him either. And if they had not been busy before, now they certainly where. From what Wenyr could hear over the general chatter from the patrons here, Na'ri not only whizzed around like a bee that'd been stung by three wasps at least, but also went pretty much all-in when it came to upselling her guests. Whether she would try the same on him ? Wenyr made a mental note of being cautious while his hand, half unconsciously, slipped into the depths of his pockets to check how much coin he had actually left to deal with such a vicious attack.

The table he choose was situated close to one of the main hall's corners. It was good to have a wall behind one's back even if just for the realm of subtle feelings in the back of one's head. Wenyr would have traded the wall for another chair at any time though for the one he sat down on creaked loudly as if very well outside its original design limits.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Wenyr

Wenyr's parents had always told him that the first impression was the most important one, but they had never told him what to do if the most important thing was highly ambiguous. So was the case with Dawnhaven. On one side there was no arguing about whether what had been achieved so far was impressive given the time taken or not -- it just was. On the other side Wenyr couldn't help but find the location far less preferable. Back home he could probably still have strolled around the growing winter crops with hardly more than a linen shirt for cover and here, he could already feel the first snow touching his skin. Casually, he brushed through his hair in order to get rid of any snowflakes that might already have accumulated there without him noticing.

It dawned upon the blacksmith what might be coming: First, the melting snow would soften the roads and passes and make them, well, less passable. Then, with some luck, things would freeze over at some point and become solid again. With bad luck however it would start snowing more and at least some of the mountain passes would need to be closed for the sake of not everyone needing a rescue.

Who would rescue his business then, though ? Usually, the heavier and more difficult to transport goods whose lack wouldn't leave anybody starving yet would be delayed first or at least so he expected. What would he have left to work with then but scrap metal and bare wood to make a fire ? And the entire settlement would be put to its first real test when conditions turned for the more harsh...

As Wenyr strolled around Dawnhaven's streets a bit aimlessly for the lack of better knowledge, he honestly contemplated about whether it would be better to try and open a workshop in spring, but -- what should he do until then ? Also the nobleman who effectively was his employer would likely not accept that kind of thinking. He had to get going no matter whether the sun was shining or not and for this he needed to know the place a lot better and probably also get some permits. Yes, permits! Wenyr silently, but no less truly assumed that a closer proximity to the kingdom of Lunaris did not necessarily correlate with a reduction in bureaucracy, or law and order as it was sometimes called slightly euphemistically as well.

Right now, the blacksmith was dressed in an attire a bit more suited for the low temperatures. A thick fur cloak made his shoulders look even more obscenely broad than they already were and he had put on the warmest piece of linen cloth he had been able to find in the mess that was his current 'home'. Wenyr had barely arrived a few days prior and his dwelling place equaled a chaotic looking heap of halfway opened, wooden crates with a large piece of fabric on wooden poles serving as a makeshift roof. A lot of work would be required, but for that he first needed to know where it was possible to deploy. And maybe he'd not ask the same people again to do him a favor and help lifting the damn anvil of the carriage. Their grudge against him would probably last longer than the various aches acquired in the process.

Squinting his eyes slightly, Wenyr deciphered the letters on a sign that gently waved in the wind: Eye Of The Beholder. The building looked as if being given priority in terms of construction effort, but if this was as much of an inn as it seemed to be, it was clear why. Who didn't need a warm place to stay ? And frankly so did he. It took a bit of courage to open the main hall's entrace for a dense crowd of people had never really appealed to Wenyr, but it was a small price he was more than willing to pay.

And just how little he knew the place still! From the many people now in his sight, he could hardly pick anybody he was already familiar with. Don't keep standing around like an idiot! Don't stare at everybody, especially not the women! Trying not to behave like a stalagmite that had just popped up out of nowhere and now blocked everybody's way, Wenyr stepped forward towards what looked like the bar. Maybe somebody would be able to give him some guidance there.

The Land of Skara: and the Songtale of the Breaking

Vodilic

Being out in the wilderness felt rather relaxing as a beast, but not so much as a human. From a purely logical point of view it probably was a weird thing for he should have known the place and its lack of dangers all too well, but the increasing darkness around him triggered an almost discomfording level of alertness. Was there a big bear hiding in the shadows ? A boar who could try to run him over in a panic or an act of aggression ? The fact that there was still some morning haze left surviving in between the tree trunks didn't make things any better.

It's just a dense forest... Vodilic tried to calm himself, but his senses, partly animalistic still, kept pushing their findings into his mind: a suspicious cracking here, the smell of a small creek there, and hadn't he just trampled over some animal trails ? Part of him wished to swap places with his horse at this point. It was commonly said that these were runaway animals, right ? Then why was it perfectly relaxed and he was the one on alert then ? Okay, maybe it was just happy about the break as well.

Yet there was absolutely noone to blame than Vodilic himself. He had made it his very own choice to keep of the proper roads in order to take this 'shortcut', but the more he ventured on the more it dawned upon the lycanthrope that sheer distance alone might not be the most appropriate metric to judge how far away a certain destination was. He'd return to some more beaten path as soon as possible, that was for sure!

Carefully, Vodilic wrapped his padded fur cloak tighter around him. It felt rather frigid and it also was. Good thing he had taken his good boots for this, otherwise he'd already have ended up with wet feet and a cold. Part of him hoped to find some company while another part of him hoped for the opposite. Both had their pros and cos and he just couldn't decide yet. Maybe this would change once having seen another soul again, but maybe he should just try and turn and move forward on four paws instead of two feet ? Could make things a lot more efficient, but also more dangerous in some way...

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Wenyr Targath

Name:
Wenyr Targath

Age: 35

Appearance:


Wenyr looks as if capable of beating at least one of Baron Munchhausen's adventures -- the one with getting out of a deep pit by pulling at his own hair. If he'd wrap up his massive, braided ponytail into sort of a lasso and manage to toss it up and around a massive tree stump or the like, it could actually work. That being said, the back of his head is not the ony place where plenty of the messed up stuff is to be found.

His skin looks a bit rugged as if he's out in the sun or just the wilderness frequently, but maybe that's just a side effect of working at the forge. Another side effect of that could be the amount of bulk that's stacked up on his 5'10. Very thick bones, sinews and muscles can be hidden beneath a layer of very loosely fitting leather clothes or a cloak, but what he can't hide is his tendency to break the occasional chair or to cause a horse to buckle quite a bit beneath him.

Race: Human

Kingdom: Aurelia

Role: Blacksmith. Most of his work is everyday utilities such as nails, ploughs, small knifes and horseshoes, but he has dabbled into the making of weapons and armors as well.

Magic: Wenyr appears to have an almost natural, innate associated with the magic of light. It would be very far fetched for him to use that for dealing harm however, instead he sees it primarily as a great tool to enhance his everyday work. One can use light for heating and thus saving on charcoal while keeping the steel (and himself) exceptionally clean, to add an imbuing touch to things such as chandeliers, lamps and other everyday items, or even just for illuminating one's own workshop without depriving everybody else of candles.

Short biography:
Wenyr's origin is a bit shrouded, but what is certain is that he is a bastard child whose parents apparently couldn't agree about how to deal with once born or maybe did not even expect him to happen. Still being far too young to have a mental grasp on what happened with him, Wenyr was given away to a pair of caring peasants in the Aurelian countryside. The reason provided to them... they never really believed it, but seeing the still tiny Wenyr and knowing that he might not fare well if remaining with his biological parents was enough for them to accept him with open, loving arms.

Aurelia is commonly considered to be much less of a harsh landscape as Lunaris or other parts of the world, but nontheless working on the field summer and winter can be a tough job and there never was a lack of work for Wenyr. They didn't live in poverty, but weren't exactly rich either and being able to manufacture a few things on their own was an important capability. It's due to this fact that Wenyr made first contact with metalworking at a relatively young age, first doing some bending and grinding and later progressing to hot, more advanced processes.

His parents already had two other childs though and, in an act of remembering that Wenyr technically was a stranger they had adopted and not of their own blood, they did not force it upon him to inherit the farm one day with his siblings. They told him his true story as far as they were aware of once he was enough of an adult to realize it in its detail and later left it open for him to leave and follow his own path.

So he did, picking up work as an apprentice in a major town and starting to fiddle around with his nack for light. It's safe to say that his experimenting managed to instigate his master's curiosity and, realizing that some of the outcomes had an usual quality to them, also started to earn him a bit of a local reputation. Never would he have expected to be sent to dawnhaven though, but that's what happened. His benefactor is a noble who's been impressed by his work and apparently believes that someone with such talent could be of significant benefit to a fledgeling colony, but frankly speaking Wenyr is not enough of a naive fool not to believe that the noble is also having a keen eye on his own stakes there not going to waste.

Misc:
Aside from being a blacksmith, Wenyr enjoys being outside and exploring. He has a keen eye for rocks and minerals and collects that kind of stuff. Of course he hopes of finding some serious ore or precious gem to work with one day as well, but perhaps it's more likely that he'll have become a successful bard by then. So far he definitely needs to work on his rugged, dark and chesty voice. His instrument play is quite good though already.

The Land of Skara: and the Songtale of the Breaking

Additions to the lore:

The lunar syndicate

While today the vast majority of species appears to live in peace and harmony with one another, the way leading to this state was harsh and littered with obstacles to overcome. For some species such as humans, overcoming their alleged greed and tendency for superstition was difficult enough, but others had entirely different inner beasts to deal with. In case of lycanthropes, it was their nack for... hunting and happily eating away at other people among many other beings. How does one replace what is not a process of thought, but a part of the foodchain ?

While the lunar syndicate is most likely not the perfect answer to this question, it is definitely better at it then its name might suggest. The syndicate is not an organisation of crime, but more of a collective attempt at preventing those from happening. It is a honorary collective of people who try to provide advice and other assistance to those lycanthropes struggling with their inner beast, trying to prevent the worst from happening while also serving at a listening post and public representation for their kind of people as a whole. Branches can be found in several of the major cities and smaller, more mobile agents travel the countryside frequently in order to stay in contact or advertise the syndicate's existence.

That being said, of course there are those who still deem the syndicate to be more of a shady business. Accusations are rather frequent, but solid proof so far was nowhere to be found.

Character played:

Vodilic

Vodilic

Shapeshifted

Race: Lycanthrope (werewolf), once ordinary human
Age: 25
Height: 5'9 (in human form)
Weight: He looks like maybe 180 lbs given that he slightly overweight, but that number is quite a bit away from reality.
Gender: Male

Vodilic is the 'offspring' of a not so fortunate event happening in a small village called 'Mavaughal' that normally hardly anybody would care about. That day however and with him still being a far too young boy to fully grasp what actually happened, things were different. Peasants and merchants fled the streets into their houses as a beast with long, scraggly hair seemed to stop for... pretty much everyone. To bite them, to rip parts off them, to kill. Vodilic was a tad too slow to ram the door shut behind him and felt a pair of far too large teeth dig into his foot.

He has a moderate limp from this injury up to the present day, but much more importantly he has cheated death at the cost of the curse. It took some time and help to get some newfound feral instincts and desires under control, but one can say that Vodilic has reached the point of nobody noticing that he's even anything different than a nice looking, medium-sized youngster. Only upon closer inspection one might find his ability for heavy lifting a tad suspicious or the fact that he somehow seems to be much, much heavier than he looks like.

Kings and Killers: A Classical Fantasy Adventure (Chapter 1)

"In our primes ?" Fyr snapped back at Dalious without even any intentional desire to do so. "If that is my prime, then I hope I grow old very quickly!" Old and with gray hair, or without any hair at all. Oh, he didn't even have these on his head anyway! And now he had neither his trusty axe and something to place his butt on either!

"And it wasn't even really my axe!" he released the quintessence of his thoughts loudly for he needed just something to vent the pressure inside him with. This had been his journey to get to know the world and to proove that he could really achieve something, and now it had likely found its end or had it ? Those back at home would cut his head off once they figured out...

"Ask that book where this bandit is going. I want to rip him apart!" Having said this, Fyr smashed another table at the wall. The furniture had already taken some damage in the previous fight and now it shattered into pieces and splinters.

"We can't even pull the wagon without a camel now!" They would need something else... and hopefully none of the others would have the idea of him pulling the damn thing because he was so big. Which he wasn't, at least not in Fyr's own opinion as he still could feel the lack of proper food from back in the mushroom caves.