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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Blind Azathoth" data-source="post: 3502555" data-attributes="member: 22041">Amarok awakes, as every morning, with a heavy sigh. Grimacing at the foul smell of his blankets, he stands, and proceeds to smother the remnants of his fire with earth. This done, he begins his morning prayers; first to Ikkuma, the All-father, the Great Old One; then to those ancestors who have passed on, beginning with the last to die—his mother—and stretching back five generations.After rising from the bowed position taken during prayer, he dresses himself in his simple furs, skins, and boots, afterwards donning his familial artifacts: armor of enchanted bone, as well as the similarly mystical white cloak and silver ring crafted by his own sisters, items which had saved him many times in the past. Finally, he hefts his small sack of equipment, and the sugliin that has been a part of his family for generations—the sugliin that carries his father's spirit, Amarok is certain, for upon the death of his father a new ability awoke within the weapon, wreathing it in spiritual cold.Amarok proceeds into town, intending to question the citizens, though expecting suspicion and no answers from them—the same that he received in all other places he had visited here in the south. Perhaps, he thinks to himself, heaving a deep sigh once more, it was a mistake to come here. Perhaps I should return home...Yet only moments after thinking this, he stops in his tracks, staring, at the sight of a crimson-cloaked form beyond. Ah, calm yourself, Amarok, he chastises himself. You have seen many scarlet cloaks on your journey. None have ever had a connection to those who trespass on your homeland. Yet you are always so anxious when you see the next red cape or robe or cloak, always wondering if they will be the one who might have your sisters... Surely you must be aware by now that you will never be seeing them again, Amarok.Doubt churning within his mind, Amarok slowly approaches the pair of elves, keeping his eyes on the one in the crimson cloak. A female, I think, he muses silently, though with elves it is so difficult to tell...Although he nears the two conversants, he does not interrupt them, waiting instead to be noticed and addressed.</blockquote>

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