Falderen was where everything had begun.
Canen had spent a day here already in the new player spawn of Eastern Brisshal, familiarising himself with this new world as the moon chased the sun like a great hunter gone wild or an ineffable dancer motioning poetry. As dawn circled back round, the sun squinted over the distant mountains of Falderen's wilds and poured a soft orange glow over the landscape. The city had not slept; instead, a multitude of people had been out all night and keeping track of their progressions in and out of the area was the very definition of madness.
Sitting on a perimeter wall on the outskirts of the city, staring into the wilderness before him, Canen's eyes looked for sustenance. He was new to the game, but was smart enough to realise he would need a source of food, and that meant hunting in the kind of environment that can drive an unprepared man insane in a matter of hours. There weren't an abundance of choices of beasts to hunt this far out, but there didn't need to be. The stronger prey had moved further out, and what remained near the new player spawn were a few scattered herds of what looked like deer with bone like plating on its exterior – yes, even the wildlife here were armoured - and the barely more numerous packs of savage mountain wolves - the only other fauna durable enough to live here. One of either would be enough for a meal, at least until morning.
So, steady was the sound of Canen's shoes pressing on the grass outside of Brisshal as he decided to try and hunt one of the deer that was more isolated from the pack. Regular and monotonous, his steps were broken only by the occasional shift left or right behind bits of boulder or grass mounds, and the grazing of Canen's oblivious prey ahead.
Just a little more…
Canen suddenly coughed on approach as an unexpected cloud of pollen whipped up in the wind. The deer raised its head and bleated violently; a sound immediately echoed and amplified by better than a dozen of its fellows a little further away. It brought its head back down and Canen barely managed to draw and expand his metal staff when it aggressively lunged forward.
The deer crashed head-first into the horizontally held polearm, tangling itself at first before freeing its head and bolting into the wilderness. Canen flew backwards, over a mound of rocks, and landed face down in the grass.
Canen had spent a day here already in the new player spawn of Eastern Brisshal, familiarising himself with this new world as the moon chased the sun like a great hunter gone wild or an ineffable dancer motioning poetry. As dawn circled back round, the sun squinted over the distant mountains of Falderen's wilds and poured a soft orange glow over the landscape. The city had not slept; instead, a multitude of people had been out all night and keeping track of their progressions in and out of the area was the very definition of madness.
Sitting on a perimeter wall on the outskirts of the city, staring into the wilderness before him, Canen's eyes looked for sustenance. He was new to the game, but was smart enough to realise he would need a source of food, and that meant hunting in the kind of environment that can drive an unprepared man insane in a matter of hours. There weren't an abundance of choices of beasts to hunt this far out, but there didn't need to be. The stronger prey had moved further out, and what remained near the new player spawn were a few scattered herds of what looked like deer with bone like plating on its exterior – yes, even the wildlife here were armoured - and the barely more numerous packs of savage mountain wolves - the only other fauna durable enough to live here. One of either would be enough for a meal, at least until morning.
So, steady was the sound of Canen's shoes pressing on the grass outside of Brisshal as he decided to try and hunt one of the deer that was more isolated from the pack. Regular and monotonous, his steps were broken only by the occasional shift left or right behind bits of boulder or grass mounds, and the grazing of Canen's oblivious prey ahead.
Just a little more…
Canen suddenly coughed on approach as an unexpected cloud of pollen whipped up in the wind. The deer raised its head and bleated violently; a sound immediately echoed and amplified by better than a dozen of its fellows a little further away. It brought its head back down and Canen barely managed to draw and expand his metal staff when it aggressively lunged forward.
The deer crashed head-first into the horizontally held polearm, tangling itself at first before freeing its head and bolting into the wilderness. Canen flew backwards, over a mound of rocks, and landed face down in the grass.
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