Snow Hawk: The Death of Snow Hawk

[sharringtonm]

Moving quietly thru the forest, the hunter crawled to the edge of the cliff, looking down. The giant badger quietly tore away at the ground looking for grubs and small mammals beneath the roots of the old oak.
The man with the bad speech had been true to his word. There was plenty of game in this forest. The tribe would be pleased with this find.
Pulling forth his axe, he slowly rose himself into a crouching position. With a single battle cry of "TEMPUS!", he threw himself down the ten feet of air at the badger and landed on its back with his knees, driving the beast to its belly. Twice his weight and much stronger then him by far, it didn't take it long to throw him off, though he scored some devestating blows on the animal before it did. Dazed and slowed it backed itself to a wall of earth and bared its fangs at him. Slowly moving in, he could feel the blood running down his arm where the beasts claws had raked him. Picking up a stone, he threw it to the animals right, then darted in when it followed the missile with its eyes. Landing blow after punishing blow, the creature finally collapsed and lay still.
The hours were long and cold, the rain never ceasing, but as he approached the camp, the chorus of children's greetings brought happiness to his heart. The women came forth and took the pelt and meat from him. Joining a few other men around a campfire, he proudly showed his newest wound, soon to make an impressive scar, and he began his retelling of how Tempus had guided his hand in his hunt of the massive beast.

[Chiangtao]

"Tempus!"

The battlecry echoed in the forest, breaking the stillness in Viradale. Vurk smiled to himself, an old man remembering the vigors of youth. Was it so long ago that he was the bold hunter? How many beasts had he battled for his own survival? How many times had he nearly lost his life? The memories flooded him, drowning out the sounds of the battle behind him like the muffling of a heavy snowfall.

Vurk admired this hunter for his bravado--strong men bring strong kin. This was a man who understood the harshness of the wilds, the cold, indifferent winters that tested each and every living being. His tribe had surely become adept at surviving in the worst of conditions. Strong people, the result of many, many seasons of hardship.

Yes, Snow Hawk knew of hardship. But Vurk wondered if the hunter appreciated it. The test of winters past produced his hearty tribe. Vurk hoped he would have the chance to speak with him in the months to come.

[Kangleton]

A hawk flies overhead, watching the hunter carefully, circling him hundreds of feet in the skies. Once the kill has long since past, the hawk seems to lose interest in the matter, and flies to the nearest mountain peak. Landing on its two feet, the hawk begins to step towards the edge of its new location; by the third step, the feathers began to shed and vanish as they fell to the floor, and by the tenth step, what was once a bird seemed more like a man. As the last details of his face returned to normal, Karthus sighed melodramatically, shaking his head as he studied the forest at the base of the mountain.

"Admos tenyth, nekrosa."

[sharringtonm]

The cold biting wind whipped past him bringing a fresh sting to his face. The flames at his feet was a blessed respite after the long climb up the pass to here. The people of the vale called this the "Cold Climb" though he couldn't understand why. He did not even need his thickest furs to warm him, while sitting in the snow around the firepit. I sure sign of the softness of these southerners.
His mind drifted off as he slowly burned a small bit of meat for his meal. Soon the seasons would change, and the herd would move on. Then the tribe would most assuredly return to the Northern Paradise, and leave this warm and inhospitable land behind. By then he would be prepared for his test of manhood. The worm called to him in his dreams.
Shaking away the dreams he pulled the blackened meat out, ripped a scalding piece off with his hands, and chewed it, not paying mind to its scalding of his tounge and pallete.
He rested easy knowing he was protected and safe here, with his two tribe brothers nearby.

Awakening suddenly to a shout, his axes were in his hands before his feet were solidly on the ground. One of the tribe brothers was approaching, and with him was a woman. His heart stopped, his mind melted. She stood taller then the women of his tribe, and must have been at least as strong as them as well. But unlike the blunt chins and mashed noses of the women he had grown up near, this womans face was delicate angles and beauty. The snow and wind swirled around her yet she gave not the slightest inclination that she felt it. She was strong, strong like the tribe. It was rare a female outsider could impress him, but this one surely did. And her companion, a giant wolf, coat of the purest white snow, did little to break the awe he felt in her presence.
Gathering himself, he put such thoughts out of his head and spoke to her and the others that followed of the tribe, the land, the herd, and the encampment. No matter how hard he concentrated, his eyes were drawn back to her over and over. "I must learn more of her".

[sharringtonm]

Casting his line out once again, he muddled over what he had seen.
The hunt had ended badly, surrounded on all sides by men, trappers they called themselves, but thieves would have been a more apt description. The elf had been little help, and in fact had incited the attack by his casting of spells while Snow hawk was trying to negotiate.
His line twitched, then went still.
His axe ready he was prepared to fight and fall in glorious battle against overwhelming numbers of enemies, and then it happened. Some of the men turned on their own, and struck them down, stabbing them in the back like assassins in the night.
A grimace comes over his face at the thought.
How can men such as that be allowed to survive? In the north, if such men were to betray the tribe they would be cast out into the cold, to never return. Here, it seems to almost be common practice. It is a sign of weakness.
Now he understood why Tempus had not showered him with his strength in this battle. The craven acts of others had turned him from this in disgust.
Now he smiled as he realized he had not shed one man's blood the whole time, only the trained animals. He had not participated in this deceit nor aided it in anyway. He was safe from its taint.
As the thoughts settled in his mind he approached the next issue he needed to lay to rest, Elves. Reckless to a fault, no heed of the danger they bring on others by their actions, and generally rude to anyone without a point to their ears. Now he could see why the shamans had said the race was not to be trusted and would only bring weakness to the tribe.
His pole moved suddenly and he began reeling in his first catch of the day, a beautiful rainbow trout.

[nickbeat]

In defense of elves

Dahdmib had only just met the hunter from the north. He was curious about the fellow and spent close to an hour sharing his own story, while hearing only a small part of Snow Hawk's tale. When their conversation was interrupted, he could not help but accept the task to hunt for wolves in the forest. He was well trained in such tasks and a fine tracker, but he did not expect to confront bandits posing as trappers!

He spotted the leader and quickly returned to his newfound companion, but too late. He could not believe they had spotted him, for the blessings of Akadi would always hide him. the keen eyes of this hunter were remarkable indeed. They gave chase and attacked without mercy, setting even the animals of the forest against them both. Thankfully the border guard came to their aid, though the three pelts they had acquired were now stolen. Dahdmib vowed repayment for the deed, and returned again more cautiously than before. Snow Hawk thought it best to speak to them, negotiate for a peaceful solution.

Not wishing further bloodshed he followed behind, keeping quiet and still until the threat, but the leader made threats to take their hides as well, and Dahdmib sensed there would be no peaceful resolution. Sensing the attack, he prepared to aid his companion with the blessings of Speed and Breath from Akadi. The attack came quick, and the Bandit lay dead within seconds.

Snow Hawk seemed regretful, but Dahdmib saw the encounter as yet another conflict between opposing forces. No matter what form of creature, even elf, he would fight those who would seek to upset the balance and destroy the wonders of a land he had come to cherish. Perhaps the northern visitor would someday come to love this land as he did.

[sharringtonm]

The cold wind whipped around him as he huddled by the small campfire with two of his brothers from the tribe.
?I saw it clearly, there was no mistaking it. Skin, black as night, pure white hair, and pointed ears. A demon Elf.?
Elaborating further, he describes the drow woman as best as he can {{fair but not precise description of Xerquine Santanico}}.
?I heard it speaking behind me to another but didn?t pay it any mind, I was focused on the fishing. I heard it call its conversation companion by name, Hugor. It wasn?t till I heard it chanting magical praise to some fell demon elf deity that I finally turned around to look.
A DROW! A Priestess to boot! And her companion? A huge ORC! Right in the middle of the vale town of Aquhor! I did what I thought was best and hurried to warn the people of the town of the invasion. Orcs and drow! My brothers take this knowledge back to the tribe?s camp and warn them of the encroaching darkness of these beings.?
Pulling his cloak around him to conserve the heat as best as he can, he waited till the shocked looks on his hunt brothers faces wore off and then answered their questions as best as he could remember.
{{Report filed with the city watch of Aquhor}}

[sharringtonm]

The battle in the glade was fiercesome, blood, spit and tears were everwhere. Legions of animals had come out of the woods to attack as well.
Blinking away the confusion of the fight, he began sorting out who was who and what was what.
It took a moment, but it finally became clear, 3 elves were attacking a lone man, dragging animals of the woods in to do their dirty work as well. The man looked sorely injured. Three on one? Not to mention the bears, cougars, and such nipping at his heels?
Cowardice!
His blood pumping he cried out to Tempus and charged into battle bull rushing an elf drawing back with an arrow to deliver a fatal blow to the solitary victim.
"Three on one! Fight Fair, TRY ME!" he shouted as he brought his battle axe to bear and began taking his toll on the archer.

Moments later the clearing was calmed, the druids standing around saying nothing (for whatever reason) He had turned the tide of the battle and was quick to check on the health of the lone defender. What a shock to find that this "man" was an elf as well!
Shaking his head in confusion over why elves would kill their own, he offered greetings of friendship to the first Elf he had ever forged the bond of battle with. The tribe would be well entertained with this tale when next he returned to the camp. Laying out the fish he had caught earlier, for others to feast on at the circle, he warned the elf and the druids of the dark elf he had seen.

[ThePaganKing]

"Merry Meeting cousins," Tellian smiles as he uses the usual Elven greeting to the three Wild Elves standing in the druid glade.

"We are not your cousin! Get out of the glade, what are you doing here anyway, traitor!" The woman Wild Elf spits out as she hefts her weapons.

Tellian thinks, what the hell? One thing that he cannot abide is an elf that does not at least give a tolerable greeting, be them wild, wood, sun, or moon. "You ignorant Wild Elves, you are no better than beasts!"

Tellian turns to go, but the woman again taunts him. Turning Tellian say, "Arm yourselves, because I do not take that kind of langauge from anyone."

With that, Tellian summons his bear companion, looses a few words to the wind to prepare his defenses, pulls his longsword and shortsword, and jumps into the fray.

He killed the one male quickly, then turned to the female that had taunted him. The other male was standing back for some reason, fingering his bow. As the first male fell, he started to pepper Tellian with arrows. Tellian used his shortsword to try and deflect the coming arrows as well as attack the female. As his longsword parted the leather armor at her breatbone and penetrated her heart, he hears the word "Tempus" and a human jumps into the fray, lowering his shoulder and pushing the remaining Wild Elf back. Before Tellian can land another blow, the human cuts down the Wild Elf.

Tellian learns that this human is a barbarian named Snow Hawk and a follower of Tempus. Tellian does not normally feel friendly towards humans, yet, this human supported him without any knowledge of the conflict or Tellian. Therefore, the battle bonds that passed as they fought forged a friendship.

Where this friendship goes is anyones guess.

[sharringtonm]

Jogging up the hill toward the encampment of his brothers, he spits violently on the ground, but still the taste of the dark and foul taint would not leave.

The Keeper of the Grove, he had seemed the one voice in this vale that the tribe could relate to, and could rely on for his wisdom of the lands to keep the tribe aware of threats to its strength.

But to see him openly dealing with the Drow and her Orc slave. Yes, he would have to speak to the shaman and the tribe elder for their wisdom in such matters. They stood there boldly in the grove, while the fair skinned elves nonchalantly went aboutt there buisness and the animals were non-plussed at the presence of their taint.

She had a dwarf slave too, though he silently cursed himself for not staying long enough to get a good view of the dwarfs face so as to identify him.

Arriving at the encampment, he sits before the fire and gathers the others to him to here of his journey.

"Brothers, I have seen the dark mixing with the light this day. Nature is betrayed and I fear the tribe has befriended one who dallies with the slavers of men!

On this very day, I was witness to a Demon Elf woman and her Orc slave, the same as I witnessed before, (descriptions of Xerquine Santanico and Hugor go here) openly and easily making purchases of the Keeper of the Grove down in the vale.

The wise men have kept us safe with their tales of the dread black ones, yet now we see those we would call friends associating with them? I will never return to the grove, the taint is there"

Looking to the village elder he says "I urge you to abandon relations with the drow lovers. The village is strong but they cannot but weaken us should we pursue a friendship with them"

Wrapping a blanket around himself, he stumbles to a tent and drifts into sleep as the camp discusses and decided what to do about this.

[sharringtonm]

The soft wind caressed his face as he drug the hastily crafted sled behind him up the Cold Climb. The sun was out and small streams of water were running down the hill from the snow packs ahead.

Snow Hawk hadn't seen many beautiful days since the tribe had left the tundra, but this one, he had to admit, trully met with his expectations. Even the smell of blood and fur from behind him didn't shake his jovial mood.

The tribe would be pleased this day. Taking a break he sat himself on a large stone by the side of the road and gazed at the sled and its cargo. The bodies of a Dire Bear and a Dire Boar were neatly positioned on the sled to evenly distribute the weight on each side. These beasts would feed and clothe the tribe for many days.

The man of honor and dignity who had given this gift to the tribe had impressed him. Rare was it a Valesman showed any concern for the tribe. Snow Hawk decided he would make sure that if Neradnal ever visited the tribal camp, he would be treated as a guest of honor for his charitable and generous gifts.

Working out the muscle in his right shoulder, he stood and lifted the poles of the sled and started uphill once more.

[sharringtonm]

Letting his feet lie in the bitterly cold water of the forest stream, he wished he could wash away his guilt as easily as he could the dirt on his toes.

She loved him! He knew it without doubt. And he knew he felt the same, but the guilt rose up to tarnish it.
"I am not a man, not until I have my Remorahz horn. I can not love a woman until then, it is the law of the tribe.", he mutters softly to himself.

He knew much had happened today that would impact him for years to come, the realization that her feelings were for him more then others, that he could feel the same things as well.. and for one not of the tribe. Though that matters little, as there were many stories of the Tribesmen choosing women from outside of the tribe.
Her father, and her keeper, entrusting him as her defender, a defender of an aspect of this Garden of Paradise. Now the grove would rely on him, and it was his responsibility to protect her, to protect the love of the grove for all living things.
Yes, his loyalty would always be to the tribe first, but he couldn't see how this could ever harm the tribe, only make them stronger, making ties with those that govern the lands, which are generally more reclusive then those that govern the people.
"I know what I must do. I will travel back to the tribe at first morning's light, and seek the wisdom of the Chief and the Shaman in this. They will show me the path."

Aleaving himself of all his guilt by keeping that resolute close to his heart, he pulled of the leather armor they had given him, and waded into the water, to clean his hair, his body, and ulimately, his soul in its crisp life giving waters.

[sharringtonm]

Snow Hawk's Dreams:

Dreams of his future self


Dreams of his wanderings in the Viridale


Dreams of his Rite of Manhood


Dreams of his true love, the incarnate aspect of love of the grove

[sharringtonm]

The moment was burned into his brain, etched into his memories. The Keeper and Nes'Anah, his love, had honored him as no other outsider. Her touch had been more then he could have ever asked for, but when the aspects of the grove had come together to bestow their blessing on him, his very blood raced at the image.

The armor and helm were magnificent, each of the aspects having imbued it, and when they had presented it to him, they had named him "Guardian of the Peace of the Grove".

And thats when it started happening. The very forest aroudn him had become more vivid, more real. He could feel it in him, but it wasn't speaking to him, oh no, it was changing him.

It wasn't till he had returned to his tribe with pelts for warmth and meat for food, that the shaman had gazed into his soul and revelaed what was happening to him.

The shaman had been truthful with him, sharing with him that his, his father, his mother, and indeed all of his lineage, had touched blood. That Tempus himself had blessed his family line. And now that the druids had touched his soul, they had released the pent up power and strength that had lay hidden and unfulled in him.

His walk back to the grove was one of self discovery. He could now see the path his destiny laid out before him. He would defend the peace of the grove, but when the peace was shattered he would bring out Tempus's holy fury on those that had broken it.

Reaching the Viridale forest, he found a band of men and elves under ambush and losing against a larger force of gnolls and goblins. Giving into the forest's influence he could feel himself changing, and with a roar to Tempus, roared into battle, to restore the peace in the forest.

[Kelmoth Xanthor]

Kelmoth drove his sword into the chest of another gnoll, spinning his blade to the right to parry the rush of an incoming spear. The Orc at his side fought with untamed rage, his axe easily cleaving through the crude armor of the goblins, but still it was not enough.

Glancing up the hill he saw more of the creatures approaching, weapons drawn and shouting cries of battle.
Kelmoth watched as his avenue of escape was cut off by the reinforcements.
Working his blade in a defensive posture, he parried the weak blows, but his strength was quickly fading.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a black streak leap into the fray, a beastial roar echoed through the forest, and the press of gnolls abated for the moment.
A loud grunt caught his attention from behind. He turned in time to see the Orc fall to the ground under an onslaught of spear and sword. Reversing the grip on his blade, he drove the sword backward catching a goblin in the throat.

Surrounded and greatly outnumbered, he tossed aside his shield and drew his dagger, intent on taking as many of the beasts with him as possible before he succumbed.

Suddenly the ground trembled beneath his feet and the gnolls closest to his side were tossed aside, their bodies limp and broken. A massive Ogre now stood amidst the battle, wielding a club that shattered bone with each powerful swing.

The arrival of the Ogre had turned the tide of battle, breaking off the gnolls fled into the forest leaving their wounded and dead behind.

Kelmoth slumped to the ground, his wounds were many and his body pushed past the point of exhaustion, but he had survived. He glanced over at the Ogre fully expecting its massive club to descend upon his head, but the creature shifted, its form shimmered, and in its place stood a tall man dressed in leathers. An antlered helm rested upon his head.

"I am Snow Hawk, protector of the forest." He stood tall and proud, his voice calm and reassuring.
"You should be more wary in your travels through these lands."

Kelmoth simply nodded. The man had saved his life, this much was true, but he would not have done the same had he been standing in his place. He was a survivor, caring little for the lives of others unless their continued existance ensured his own.

"Thank you Warder." "I shall heed your words."

Kelmoth turned away making his way back up the hill toward the outpost.

Looking back he studied the strange man. He could prove a problem, but he would cross that bridge when the time came.