Rhun
First Post
Skorl stops at the crossroads, faces into the wind and sniffis the air like some kind of wild animal. The warrior's open cloak whips around him in the stiff breeze, but he doesn't seem to be bothered the least by the chill. Surely, growing up in the mountains must have acclimated him to the cold.
After a few minutes, he turns and heads down the right fork. He wasn't sure what lay ahead in the Vistani camp, but it had to be better than the boredom of the village they had left behind. Adjusting the straps holding the plate greaves to his forearms, the half-orc jogs out ahead of his companions, taking point as they travel between the old and gnarled trees of the Svalich Wood.
After a few minutes, he turns and heads down the right fork. He wasn't sure what lay ahead in the Vistani camp, but it had to be better than the boredom of the village they had left behind. Adjusting the straps holding the plate greaves to his forearms, the half-orc jogs out ahead of his companions, taking point as they travel between the old and gnarled trees of the Svalich Wood.