Summer 03, year 124 of the third age
For the citizens of Bahn'Shei, the day had proceeded as any other thus far– it was as quiet as the so-called 'city of anarchy' was capable of being, at least.
For Wulfnoð, this meant fulfilling whatever work orders were left for him by his found family, be they simple repairs, reconstructions, or new crafts. He sat conducting his work within a small encampment located on the city's outskirts, though it was still well tucked away from both the forests of Ælheim and the unforgiving desert sands that lay beyond the other side of the mountain. Per the perception of most, this location was a safe one– that is, if one ignored the wild, mutating magic that inhabited the very stone within which Bahn'Shei was built.
Such relative normalcy, however, was not to last– the first sign that something was amiss was the alarmed, but mostly frustrated, yell of a Trow. It was muffled, indicating the man was some distance away. From where Wulfnoð was seated, he'd then hear the padding of both paw and foot outside the door of his workspace, then that same Trow and another man began to bicker amongst themselves.
"Somethin' in the cavern bit me an' then scuttled off–..." one voice said.
"Yeah? And why should any of us care? Maybe you ought to have been more careful," another voice answered, this one low, gruff, and belonging to a human.
"No," the Trow hissed, "...it wasn't like any of the standard fair 'round these parts. It was…it was touched by some foul magic, like somebody'd sewn together four different animals and set it free–"
"The mountain's own stone has caused plenty strange changes to the local beasties. Unless you mean you think the thing's venomous?" The man sighed. "What're you yellin' about it for, then? Go bug the medic," the other responded, sounding a combination of annoyed and dismissive.
"No," the Trow snapped back, clearly annoyed he kept being cut off. "What I'm after is somebody who'll come with me to go look for it. Beast looked awful, like it was rotting and in pain, I'd like to put it down 'fore it spreads some foul disease! I'd just rather not go alone– what if there's more of 'em?"
The other man snorted, "...sounds like a waste of time to me."
It didn't seem like anyone else outside the workshop was chiming in, either, leaving the Trow to think he might actually have to go after the thing by himself.
For Wulfnoð, this meant fulfilling whatever work orders were left for him by his found family, be they simple repairs, reconstructions, or new crafts. He sat conducting his work within a small encampment located on the city's outskirts, though it was still well tucked away from both the forests of Ælheim and the unforgiving desert sands that lay beyond the other side of the mountain. Per the perception of most, this location was a safe one– that is, if one ignored the wild, mutating magic that inhabited the very stone within which Bahn'Shei was built.
Such relative normalcy, however, was not to last– the first sign that something was amiss was the alarmed, but mostly frustrated, yell of a Trow. It was muffled, indicating the man was some distance away. From where Wulfnoð was seated, he'd then hear the padding of both paw and foot outside the door of his workspace, then that same Trow and another man began to bicker amongst themselves.
"Somethin' in the cavern bit me an' then scuttled off–..." one voice said.
"Yeah? And why should any of us care? Maybe you ought to have been more careful," another voice answered, this one low, gruff, and belonging to a human.
"No," the Trow hissed, "...it wasn't like any of the standard fair 'round these parts. It was…it was touched by some foul magic, like somebody'd sewn together four different animals and set it free–"
"The mountain's own stone has caused plenty strange changes to the local beasties. Unless you mean you think the thing's venomous?" The man sighed. "What're you yellin' about it for, then? Go bug the medic," the other responded, sounding a combination of annoyed and dismissive.
"No," the Trow snapped back, clearly annoyed he kept being cut off. "What I'm after is somebody who'll come with me to go look for it. Beast looked awful, like it was rotting and in pain, I'd like to put it down 'fore it spreads some foul disease! I'd just rather not go alone– what if there's more of 'em?"
The other man snorted, "...sounds like a waste of time to me."
It didn't seem like anyone else outside the workshop was chiming in, either, leaving the Trow to think he might actually have to go after the thing by himself.
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