Private Blood of Stoneshade

[Rowan Hathbi]

LOCATION: Islimore
EQUIPMENT: Layered Clothing, Face wrap, Walking staff
TAGS: Freya Drage Åsmund Ótta

The researchers went about their business. The monoliths leftover from a bygone age a popular choice for those in the scientific pursuit to explain the formations as one watched the dune with a pair of binoculars.

A dark shape on the rise had caught their attention. A passing shadow in the otherwise bland landscape as another hollered for them to help with equipment. Eyes briefly catching the whorl of sand that kicked up as something watched them.

---

Rowan's gaze cast over the gathered bodies below. Invaders of a different variety. Seeking to know what even those of his own clan had little memory of. His people gathered elsewhere in their hidden hovel to keep themselves sheltered from the attentions of those that would finish them off.

The staff was held in his right, the feel of the land around him channeling through his left. Their footsteps on the ground a prickling against his senses as he eyed the guardians of a forgotten past.

How he wished his voice could sing to the stones.

Perhaps had others before him been able to muster that power, been able to awaken the sleeping giants their home might still be that. Theirs. As it were. The invaders and their ill gotten faith had spread across the world like an unchecked plague. Souring the minds of what existed and twisting the views to some twisted and decayed lip service to their ideals.

He gagged on the thought.

The wind whipped around him, sand spinning in a dervish to keep his form hidden across the dunes as he moved to a different vantage to keep an eye on the ones searching the sleeping giants.

He eyed the sun, pausing in his travel before squinting through the face wrap and turning on his heel. The sand smoothed itself over, hiding his trail as he cut a path back home.

He would almost be late if he didn't make good speed for the meeting. The people below had distracted him long enough already.

---

Hathbi village

The hunters were silent, the gathering of houses below where their targets lived. Existed for the time being. They had to be quiet, methodical, and quick. The village wasn't large by any standard, and a noise in one would alert even the farthest if their guesses were correct about what dwelled in these parts.

Bodies carefully arranged themselves in formation. Mentally prepared for another cleansing of what tried to remain in the changing times. The spirits purified of the Shadow that lingered here. The Lightbearer had blessed their hand for the task.

Or so they believed.

They watched as the beasts milled about in their human form. An attempt to humanize themselves, make the task ahead more difficult perhaps. One sat in a chair, holding a crutch beneath their arm as they struggled to rise and move to help others.

That one would be the easiest, but where did they live? The hunters were patient, waiting for the perfect time. They had cleansed themselves of normal smells, trained in the harsh climate to prepare, and made their presence as little known as possible.

Even waiting for a research team to come to disguise their own presence. They had everything in their favor, and they would not waste it this day.

 

[Freya Drage]

S T O N E S H A D E​

Freya and Asmund had chosen to make the journey to Stoneshade on foot, having left the comforts of the grassy plains and forests of Blackbrook over three hours ago. The environment was some of the harshest she’d ever experienced, but had slowly grown comfortable with the way the sparkling golden sands shifted underfoot. Her legs ached, but little by little she became more at ease with the back and forth movement.

Still, despite her discomfort, she could not help finding it all so… beautiful. Treacherous yes… but beautiful all the same. As a wolf who’d grown up primarily in the forests and mountains, the concept of the desert environment was still new to her, and she wanted to savor all the new sensations and scenes for as long as she could.

Bright sunlight permeated the skies that were bluer than a robin's egg, the air as dry as bone without a drop of moisture to be found. The famed sleeping giants that littered the dunes were enormous. Hulking, ancient beasts spread sporadically in stop-motion like impenetrable silent guardians, breaking up what would otherwise appear as nothing more than a vast wasteland.

They made her feel calm, and at the same time, wholly insignificant.

When they’d finally reached the Hathbi lands, the pair had waited on the outskirts of the Alpha’s territory, knowing that to encroach any further would be seen as an act of aggression, a show that they did not respect custom and may be unworthy of trust. Thankfully, it did not take long before one of his clansfolk caught a whiff of their scents and escorted the pair to the sand-king's lair.

Arriving earlier than expected allowed time for them to freshen up and change out of their traveling gear - trading her thick cloak and pants for the finery that would be expected of an Alpha’s only daughter.

Done up, Freya made quite the sight.

Tinges of pink exertion colored her otherwise pale skin, with the coral, gossamer-like dress she’d chosen clinging to her lithe frame. At the bottom of her hem, white blooms of embroidered spring flowers budded to the tops of her slender thighs, with a few strays that twined at the tops of her shoulders. Striding towards the welcoming chambers, her skirts floated easily on a phantom wind - a perfect gown to combat the desert heat.

The crowning glory of the ensemble was her hair - a mane of long flaxen curls, glossy, that had been swept up in a crown of braids across her head with only a few soft and supple curls loosened to frame her face.

They paused outside the sandstone doors, Freya inhaling a deep breath as she peered up to her companion. “Ready?” she asked softly, searching for any signs in his expression that might indicate a want to turn back, her delicate fingers slipping gingerly into the crook of his arm as she waited.

Rowan Hathbi | Åsmund Ótta
​

 

[Åsmund Ótta]

LOCATION: Islimore
TIME: Mid-Afternoon
THEME: Windy Desert Ambience
TAGS: Freya Drage | Rowan Hathbi

Travel by foot had become easier to take on since meeting Freya and spending time amongst her clan, improving on the foundation that initial recovery period had provided in the wake of his escape from Islimore, a holistic approach geared towards a Lupo's morphic physiology. His gait was better, even with the years between the first time and now - the limp was largely gone. This was the easy part but when it came to planning and preparing for the eventual journey back to Islimore, that was where the difficulty lay.

His mind, due to the way it had acted to attempt to protect him from the worst of the abuses he suffered in the past, in the last of his days in the land of his birth, had objected to the plan to return to that very planet despite his rational understanding and agreement that it was a necessary move. That he still knew Islimore better than any Drage meant his going back was also necessary, but that didn't stop the terrors that resurfaced after the small number of years in which they had apparently ceased, stealing his resting hours and haunting the waking ones. Time with the second-eldest of the Alpha's children, coupled with his memories of the therapies administered by his erstwhile psychologist (a Zeltron fellow) and how far that had taken him, helped to deconstruct and address the issues he faced over the months leading up to this point.

Terrors were reduced to hesitation and mild anxiety, somewhat easily worked through in transit, and on the surface. The further they got away from Blackbrook, the more his mind was put to ease, and the sands welcomed him as they had in years past. He had rarely left the Wolfswood, but as his parents had been of considerable age even in his earlier years, he was their envoy, their ambassador, their link to the few of their kind that remained. Then they were gone, and it was only him and Alfhildr. Until everything. Re-adapting to the particular movement of traversing the loose ground, from memory alone, was easy, but as with Freya who found discomfort, his muscles needed to work in a way they hadn't in years… but seeing the sleeping stone giants again after so long hit him with an awed nostalgia that stopped him in his tracks only for some small moments before they'd continued on. One of the mysteries of the ancients that his people had never managed to decipher.

After reaching the edge of their host Clan's territory, and being taken in, his travel gear was shed and replaced with a white fine linen suit, of which the shirt was also that same coral, that complimented the dress of his companion for this visit; it belied her strength, making a delicate flower of a strong female… and her beauty in this touched him beyond its subtle growth on his psyche in the preceding months, pulling a modest smile to his face that was less and less rare as time wound on. She was a fine representative of a great Clan, whom he had come to respect.

"Ready?"

He looked down to her as her fingers slipped into the crook of his elbow. Just as the sleeping giants brought her calm, so too did her consistent presence bring the same to him.

"I am," he replied in a low tone, full of sincerity; at least, as ready as he would ever be, but he wouldn't dare voice such within the possible reach of other ears - any hint of weakness could undermine an Alpha's position… his own, that is, "but the current Alpha was only a wee pup, the last time I came to this place," and it would be interesting to have an audience with the son, rather than the father, whom he had spoken to as a bare-faced teen. This time, he had a beard, neatly and closely trimmed, "I was my father's representative, at the time."

 

[Rowan Hathbi]

The pair had been welcomed by a number of faces. Most quickly passing to another as they traveled through the small smattering of buildings until they reached the outwardly least impressive looking building. Inside was a different story.

The interior set of honey and cream colored sandstone. Potted plants dotted the corners beside draping fabrics to cover archways and hallways. A few more faces inside assisted when needed but quickly dismissed themselves as the two made for the doors.

---

His journey had been swift. Rowan settling into a ground eating pace that came with such ease that it could be alarming to those watching.

His father had shown him the dunes, the ways of nature's magic and the mystical energy of the force. His people going into deep seclusion after the purges, cutting themselves off from the rest of their people in a vain effort to salvage what remained. Cutting themselves off from learning what the other clans might have learned in that time.

Quietly fading into nothing like a passing sandstorm.

His final steps brought him to a dried up riverbed. Winding along the backside of the outwardly diminutive palace and into the lower quarters as his father leaned against the doorframe and smiled at him.

"We have guests." The near gleeful words of his father drawing a head shaking smile from Rowan.

"Don't be so happy, I doubt they are here to stay." He replied, tartness in his words as his father leaned against the crutch and began trailing behind his son.

"They are here to speak with you. Listen, and think. Don't let my obligations blind you. And don't strut." His father took a jab at him, causing the younger male to round with a playful jab at his father's shoulder.

"They have yet to blind me, old man. Merely open my eyes wider. And as for the...posturing. " His hand waved between them, winding up to a point he could put to words finally. "It's not like it's on purpose. I just-"

"Look absolutely stupid doing it." Came the scolding tone that had him knitting his brow together and spinning. His mouth opening to speak as his father gave him a daring look.

"I...I learned it from you." Rowan finally uttered his rebuttal. The two stared at each other before the willpower failed to keep the smile and laughter from their faces.

"Thank the stars your mother decided on me. Watching you I see now why I was always the decoration rather than the main attraction." Rowan scoffed, changing out of his travelling garb and into something more fitting for an alpha to wear of the Stoneshade.

The outfit in question something he didn't enjoy wearing often. A formal set of attire that itched and pulled in the worst ways.

"Show patience and interest. Most importantly, be reasonable." His father instructed him before receiving a bone chilling look from his son.

"Mentioning reasonable. Show me a good example, go home, and get off that leg." Rowan's words were closer to a growl when he noticed the older males hand hovering over the knee. The stare sent through the mirror before him to the elder sat in the armchair behind him.

The air crackled between them, the elder silently rising to meet the challenge presented by his successor with subtle ques of posture and gaze. Stormy orbs staring through the older man in the seat before a hand waved off the younger one.

"I will. I wanted to see you before hand. Wish you luck. It's your first meeting after all." He explained with a weak smirk. "And remember-"

"Don't strut. Yes yes. Go on you old wind chime. I'm sure mother has already heard about your passing through town all day." His father seemed stricken by the comment, a hand coming to his chest as he seemed to fish for excuses. Though Rowan knew the act well enough now as he shook his head slowly with a smirk. "No. You cannot stay here. You need to set a good example might I remind you."

There was a sigh that followed his words, his father nodding slowly at his fate. Rowan spun before his father could move to stand, a hand offered and accepted as the pair stood and watched each other.

"Go kindly."

"Give freely."

"Live well." They spoke in unison as they smiled to one another. The contact was broken as his father slipped outside through the backway. Rowan straightening his wrap before stepping into the meeting hall and motioning for the doors to open.

He stood in front of a small, low table. Pillows arranged around it with a few items placed at key spots within easy reach. Pitchers of water with glasses set neatly beside for use. Light snacks of baked bread, sliced and bare with honey beside it.

"Welcome to Stoneshade. I am Rowan Hathbi. Come. Sit. You've traveled well out of your way. Rest a moment." He led them in the gesture, sitting at what could be considered the head of the low table and gesturing before him.

Wearing a smile, he kept his tone polite, eyes never truly resting on either to avoid unintended offense. They had come to help, to speak with him and through him his people. His first true meeting with others of title and power something he wished to go well.

"I see the sands weren't too difficult. Hopefully they welcomed you warmly. Any incidents on your way in?" Asked off handedly, his hands busy pouring water and sliding a singular cutting of bread toward himself. His eyes stared beyond the pair, still keeping his father's voice in his mind to be a considerate and polite host.

Freya Drage Åsmund Ótta