Of Crows, Dirt and Dongs
"Always watch where you step, there might be tracks of someone whose been there before you."
Adric is remarkably tall, about 6’ 5", standing with broad shoulders, muscular and almost unnaturally still. His head is covered with an unkempt mess of unkempt raven hair, his face hidden away by the gigantic skull of a goat; large horns curling around his ears and spiraling into the air.
The rare times he chooses to eat or drink, he lifts the mask over his face; revealing a youthful face, though patched with thick dirty stubble, and five red streaks dragging down his face, like that of a hand print. His eyes constantly search for threats, and when he realizes that he is being looked at, he instantly pulls the mask down over his face.
The travel attire he usually prefers is an outfit of rough cut leather, armoured up the side with straps to secure the leather with an undershirt of dirty brown cotton. A pair of fitted tan trousers, secured by a gaudy belt covered in charms and carvings. Finally, a pair of stag-hide boots in traditional Northern style. He is often draped in various necklaces, trophies and teeth that jangle with every step.
Adric has learned from experience that to save the forest, he must leave it. The only way to save the lives of his kin, and the delicate balance of nature is to take the sickness away, and that sickness is the king.
From the tales of the king that Laucien has told him, the old man is ruining a realm. There are people that need help, and Laucien has never shoved him into awkward silences like most folk, and is easy to imitate his charm on other people. Although loyal, Adric remains lost and aloof to the causes around him.
- Clint of the Eastwood
Out of all the men and women of the resistance, Adric assumed that the wood elf would have been the easiest to befriend; instead what he received was a man who was both mean and ornery which was an ill fit to Adric’s awkwardness and cold stare. Adric can see the desire for revenge, but he isn’t sure what the elf will do, or who he will take with him to get it.
Although he met him recently, Adric already dislikes the pale elf. When Adric had to stutter his way through conversation, the elf manages to speak clearly, and almost seems to provoke as easy as Laucien is to charm. The elf hunts for his family, a goal he does not understand, if they abandoned him too then why does he hunt for them?
- Sanjo Bluerune
The druid is not sure what Sanjo means to him. They have almost never talked, they have fought together true, but Adric knows nothing of his past, or his history, and neither have sat down and talked at length. Adric trusts him, for now, but is scared to bet how much gold that loyalty might change Sanjo’s attitude towards him.
Adric feels guilt for his aim flying wild, the thought lurks at the corner of his mind, unsure of what to say. Speech was, and never was one of his strong points. She has a different way of doing things: He’d rather break a window, and she’d rather pull the blinds.
Valfader’s pledge; a deal that the families who call the forest of Einherjurn their home are all too familiar with. Valfader was the first settler to find Einherjurn, but he was not the first to call it home. Gröryn, the Lorndvættira(A land wraith) made a deal with Valfader. It would protect the village, and help it flourish and hiding Valfader and his home away from the rest of Westlands.
Valfader gladly gave his firstborn son away to Gröryn for the promise of sanctuary, turning his back on the begging of his wife. With the first stone cast, the pledge turned into tradition and every family in Einherjurn has given away their firstborn.
He was not alone, and in a place far from Westbrook. The trees scraped the sky, the ground covered in leaves and small animals and the feeling of being the least important thing there. This was a realm untouched by civilization, and he did not belong. Adric remembered being taken by Gröryn for a reason.
Adric has no idea how old he is, or what it was like to have friends. His mother has a face he can’t quite recall, and the voice of his father is something he has only imagined in his mind. Adric only recalls the tutelage of Gröryn and Lady Vel, how they taught him that the woods were alive, that everything had a spirit, and each and every painstaking rule of survival.
Through Gröryn, he learned that a real hunter always watches where he steps, and exploits weakness wherever he may roam. The many strengths of the hunter and the power in seeking the council of the spirits that lived in the rocks, and the waterfalls and the forests.
There was not a day when Gröryn did not attempt to kill his pupil, keeping Adric ever on his toes.
Vel was no lady; Adric remembers how cold her gaze was, and how he could see his own breath around her. Her wings were like that of a butterfly, and her presence made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Vel was not of Draks, or Neon’allure or even from the same realm. She was beautiful, so beautiful that if he dared to stare, he doubted he would be ever able to stop. Vel taught him to control the will of nature, and the hundreds of rituals he needed to perform to even come close to being one with the forest.
When he came of age, Adric and a handful of other druids who had finished their training at the hands of the fae, being thrown out into the wilderness to the tender mercies of the druids that had come before them. This was the first time that Adric had talked to somebody he hadn’t known as a small child.
Only the most skilled, paranoid of children managed to leave the realm of Gröryn, but Adric was not prepared for the most dangerous animal of them all; humans. This kingdom, and it’s own problems seemed like waking from a deep dream.
Adric remembers only three other druids from the realm he had been kidnapped to. Aliran was the first to show him true kindness. While he talked with wolves, she learned to pacify the spirits and stitch skin back together. When Gröryn beat him, it was she who salved his wounds, and kept his spirits.
Now, she travels as a healer and manages to keep the unyielding spirits of Westbrook calm, unbroken by the cruel Gröryn and Vel. She keeps an eye on Adric, like that of an older sister as she does her duties for the Wulfric Circle.
Adric and Hryn were Gröryn’s best hunters. Stag, rabbit or wolf were easy prey. Hryn taught him the important of keeping a sharp blade, and simple pitfall traps. Unfortunately, when Gröryn had decided to test their skills by unleashing a bear upon them, he was chased into his own trap. Adric remembers tugging his friend up a tree with him, his throat gashed as the bear rampaged and raged at their makeshift shelter.
Hryn bled to death in his arms, smothering his face with red as he took his last, ragged breath. Adric has never been able to wash it off, a punishment from Gröryn to make sure he never forgets that his place in the forest is the lowest, he is only a guardian, and his power comes with a price.
While Adric, Hryn and Aliran stuck together, Jarn refused to align himself, scoffed at any attempt to befriend him. Gröryn had taught him the same as the rest of them, but Jarn had learned different lessons. He hunted them, a constant presence during their training, hardening them.
Now, Jarn watches over his own forest, and remains an outcast from the rest of the Wulfric Circle.