[Sherian Countryside] Darkness at the River (Gauls)

[Cyrus Marius]

TS: Mid-darkening in the second cycle of Cryxatum, in the season of Summer, Era XIV PF.

They were shadows moving under the cover of darkness; four figures who stalked across the Sherian countryside at the darkest candlemark of the darkening. No stars shined overheard, and only the barest glimmer of moonlight pierced the thick veil of clouds that had gathered above the temperate southern province. A light rain fell across the war-torn land, silencing even the soft footfalls of the men crossing the open territory, and dampening that which would hold their scent upon passing. This was no fortunate accident; the men had been waiting for an opportunity such as this, and even the Imperial command to remain out of Orc-held lands would not dissuade their course of action.

At the fore, as always, strode their leader, Cyrus Marius. The young legionnaire was cloaked in the coal-black cloak that his comrade and commander Eyvind had designated for his elite soldiers, and tonight it suited their purpose magnificently, shielding him both from the rain and the eyes of those watching for intruders in the region. Beneath his cloak, the soldier wore a simple leather jerkin over a cotton tunic, leather bracers at his wrists, and black leather knee-boots over plain cotton leggings. A plain, non-descript dagger taken from the Manjet armory was tucked into the back of his loose-fitting leggings. He was dressed as a simple traveller or work-hand perhaps, with no markings or insignia on his person that indicated his affiliation with the Imperial Legions. The only object of note on him hung at his left hip, sleeping in it's simple, battered black leather home.

Karvaaka, the Dual Natured blade, gifted to him by the spirits of his slain family. Even resting at his side, Cyrus could feel the magic contained within the weapon calling out to him, longing to reside in his strong and sure hands.

Behind the young legionnaire came the massive Erik Hammerhand, following the path that Cyrus made through the countryside as swiftly and silently as a man of his size could manage. His near eight-foot frame was likewise cloaked in a massive black mantle, and beneath this he wore thick leathers to protect him from any possible enemy attack. A single-handed war hammer hung at his side, with a cruel pick-axe at the rear of the weapon's head. Slung under his arm was a leather rucksack that contained some emergency medical supplies, though none of the men knew more than the rudimentary first-response treatment of wounds sustained in combat.

The third soldier to cross the land this dark evening was a half elven man by the name of Ehrin Talinnar, a recruit who had earlier demonstrated impressive skill with the beautiful, floral-engraved rosewood longbow that now hung from his back. He moved with the silence of his people, picking his way across the plains with all the sound of moonlight falling upon grass, and his sharp elven eyes were constantly scanning the environment around them, ever on the watch for figures watching them on the horizan. No armor protected Talinnar except for his flowing black cloak and his skill and familiarity with the land, and beside the single quarrel that hung from his hip, the half-elf was armed with only a single long knife secured against his slim right thigh.

Leading all of them was the dark russet Virkyn, Pandora. She was the true shadow among them, becomming truly one with the darkness rather than attempting to mimic it. She made no sound and gave no scent, and even her physical form had taken on the the transluscent and semi-transparent qualities of the shadows around her. Talinnar could see her in her shadows, as could Cyrus with his enhanced Sanguine senses and his bond with the russet beast, but the Hammerhand was reliant upon his comrades for the location and activity of the fearsome wolf-like creature. She guided them unerringly with her intelligent mind, her brilliant azure eyes leading them closer and closer to the destination that they sought; the forests south of Vers.

They were following the river, and making excellent time with their light burdens and the Virkyn leading the way. By the bends in the river, Ehrin had declared less than a candlemark before that they had neared the area south of Vers, and that they now faced west, with the river to their north and the thick forests to the south. The half-elf had with him a map taken from the barracks records, and they traced their progress by marking the map at every candlemark with comments and records of the river, the land, and any patrols that they might glimpse through the darkness. So far, not a soul had been alerted to their presence in the strife-ridden lands, but the darkening was still young, and still they pressed deeper into dangerous and foreboding territory.

[Gauls]

The trip had been longer than expected due to the fact that the roads from Taralon toward Vers get worse the farther from the capital that one goes. Typically a meandering caravan would take five and a half brightening to reach Vers but with the party's light loads and quick pace, they managed to reach the area south of Vers in a little under four brightenings.

The blackness of night draped over everything which was good in that it cloaked the movements of the group but the length of the trip was hard upon the feet and stomach if not properly tended to. Now would be a good time to check the status of the gear before heading out. A good leader makes sure that those with him are the best for the task at hand but also that those people have what they need to survive and accomplish the mission.

The Khardran Mountains loomed ahead westward. The Dark River was on their right and nothing but Sherian wilderness was to the south. The winds blowing in from the Northeast send chills down the spine as it combines with the coolness of the night. The winds were tolerable now but the higher they go into the mountains the worse they will get and will no doubt play a part in the mission planning as well as the light rains and mud.

Taking notes of the Dark River, it was like a winding serpent slithering down from the Khardran range and meandering all the way east and then south down to Taralon. The clarity of the water gets alot better the closer to Taralon one traveled but from this area so close to the mountains, one can see that it is no longer the pleasing liquid crystal one is used to pulling up from the wells in the capital. Here, the water is getting more merky no doubt from the silt and mud that is draining into it from the higher elevations. The river is not fordable it would appear (except at bridges) though one would have to actually try to cross in order to know the exact depths. The winding path of the river is sometimes blocked by trees and so what lies beyond each bend would be a constant surprise if one is not careful. The group is still too far away to judge where the river leads beyond that first bend.

[Cyrus Marius]

Cyrus crested a small rise near the river's bank, and he cast his sapphire gaze up and down the river's length. The evening-black waters rushed past where the legionnaire stood, thick with minerals and the run-off from the mountains whence it came. The wind whipped the coal-black cloaks around the three soldiers as they momentarily paused, and the light rain stung the flesh where exposed. A shadow of fine, golden stubble could be seen across Cyrus' angular visage, evidence that the journey had taken longer than the young soldier intended. He had wanted to move fast across the countryside, as fast as Pandora could without the human's following her perhaps, however they were forced to submit to the limits of their own mortality and set a maintainable pace.

The young legionnaire could hear the Hammerhand's steps as he walked up behind Cyrus, and Ehrin's presence could be felt as well, though the half-elf still made no sound with his light footsteps. All three showed signs of fatigue, however they were soldiers, proud Imperial legionnaires, and they would not let weather or hunger keep them from their mission. An empty stomach was preferable to one full of Orcish steel, and so they continued at their pace, led by their blonde Sword Daekin who seemed unaffected by hunger or the length of their journey. Truth be told, Cyrus felt his complaints as much as any human would, however he had long trained himself in the harsh and rugged manner that he believed fit for a legionnaire, and he now reaped the benefits of his hard discipline and intense physical conditioning.

Erik's voice suddenly broke the silence however,

"Gods, this rain chills to the bone. Are we finished with this mission yet, brother? My stomach growls like an angry beast, and we have seen nothing but countryside and this cursed, fishless river for brightenings on end now. Do we turn back?"

Ehrin glanced towards Erik, then turned his slightly almond-shaped eyes on Cyrus. The half-elf did not speak, however Cyrus could see from the look in his eyes that he shared the Hammerhand's sentiment, and also longed for the comforts of the barracks common-room. The young legionnaire only turned his head so that both figures were seen by his lone azure orb, and he frowned at them darkly.

"Not yet. Quiet your complaining and strengthen your resolve; you will not die of rain nor of hunger. Your death will be at the hands of an Orcish raider as he strikes you down and runs to slaughter your comrades." Cyrus paused in his dramatic response, staring at the faces of the two men before him. "That is why we are still out here, and why we will continue forward. The more we know of what we are facing, the better prepared for it we will be."

Erik glanced down in an almost child-like fashion, shame and embarassment flashing across his broad, Vagaran features.

"You are right, Cyrus my brother. The Hammerhand can endure any weather that the Gods throw at him, and he laughs at the beast in his own belly." Erik tried to smile to emphisize his point, but the ceaseless rain and wind stifled his good cheer. Instead, he tightened the cloak around his shoulders and lowered his hood over his face, staring forlornly at the river as Cyrus turned back to survey it as well. It ran fast and high here, too much so to ford with men and equipment, so they must try and find out about the river's other locations as it neared the mountains. Cyrus could already tell that the terrain grew increasingly unsettled and dangerous as they neared the Khardran range, and Ehrin marked every aspect of the land that he could on the map that he held tightly to. The information would be quite valuable when mobilizing the Manjet Legion, provided that the Orcs did not learn of the intelligence and move numbers in the area to compensate.

Turning back west, Cyrus stepped off his rise and strode towards where Pandora stood waiting for the humans. Drops of rain slid down her thick russet fur, but her luminous cobalt eyes shared her bondmate's stone-cold discipline and endurance. It was not in her to flag or to waver, and the climate of the Khardran region was home to her. At Cyrus' approach, she turned and began loping down the river bank, pushing further into Orc lands and following the flowing body of water. Cyrus cast one last glance back at his men, and shouted softly over his shoulder before following the Virkyn.

"Come, we continue."

[Gauls]

The band of soldiers moved onward following along the south bank of the Dark River. It is not known why this river was called the Dark River. Was there some evil that resonated from it or was it just named that way because its color darkened nearer to the mountains? Perhaps it was some terrible event that took place long ago that gave it such a cursed name? One could only speculate as the group meandered along its winding path.

The terrain was rough where the group started from but it quickly turned rocky as they neared the foothills. Luckily Cyrus and his merry band of travelers were so lightly equipped. Anything with wheels and even animals without proper conditioning would have a hard time traversing this ground. Also of note was the fact that the trees and brush had begun to diminish both in number and height. There was virtually no cover to speak of after about a few candlemarks of walking. No tree was over shoulder height and if it were not for the darkness, the group of soldiers would surely be under constant visual tracking from the occupied foothills ahead. Was this done deliberately to ward off those trying to use the river as a guide into the mountain range or was there some other reason why the vegitation virtually vanished nearing the foothills?

The weather did not let up as the wind increased along with the group's elevation. They had not even entered the foothills and yet the ground had been steadily increasing in height for the past hour or so. Now Cyrus could see the winding nature of the river more clearly. It led onward until it disappeared (right) around the bend of a hill that marked the edge of the foothills. The foothills themselves were not too large but they were barren and rocky. Some of the foothills folded over onto others creating natural trenches. Again, no trees could be seen on the closest hills and so walking over them in anything but night would surely send up warning flags.

The river did not appear to increase in size or anything as the group got closer to its source but it did increase in strength. The rushing water was now giving off a louder din that muted any other subtle noises. If an army was going to use the river to their advantage, it could be a good anchor for a flank. That same advantage could also become a disadvantage if an army was attacked from the south, making the river a death trap for escaping soldiers.

So far, there were no other abnomalities to this trip.

[Cyrus Marius]

Ehrin's quill never ceased moving as the group drew nearer and nearer to the foothills, the half-elf furiously writing down every detail, no matter how mundane, that could be discerned about the landscape. None of the three commented on the sudden lack of trees as they continued deeper into Orc lands, for an exchanged glance between them conveyed their mutual understanding. Being soldiers themselves, the men recognized the signs of an army's touch upon the soil, stripping the valuable wood for building materials and exposing the land to eyes that watched for enemy scouts. Scouts like the black-cloaked figures that stalked through the darkening behind their Virkyn guide.

Pandora never seemed to hesitate in her course, her incredible lupine senses combined with her razor-keen intellect sparing the group from much trouble thus far. More than once she had stopped in her flowing, liquid-like stride, and raised her great russet head to smell the air and peer through the darkness with her azure orbs. She would then change paths slightly, avoiding certain areas and bringing the group back on course when she believed it safe. She seemed to know instinctively which paths her small pack could and could not walk, and so as the terrain grew rockier and more difficult to cross, she inevitably would find the path that led them deeper into the lands just before the Khardran foothills.

It was in this barren, harsh area that Cyrus stopped again, pausing on another small rise to survey the area that they had reached. The wind now blew with even more strength, whipping the legionnaire's black cloak around his lean profile. His hood was up over his golden mane, however several thick locks had fallen loose and now likewise whipped wildly in the breeze, like gold-colored serpents around the soldier's visage. His lone cobalt eye narrowed slightly as it scanned the area, and then it turned on the figures of his fellow soldiers as they turned back and came towards him.

"What do we have so far, Ehrin?"

The half-elf glanced at the map for a brief moment before responding,

"Quite a bit actually, sir. I've detailed our advance up to this point, and outlined where the terrain both hides and exposes anyone following in our footsteps. I have a more accurate description of the river than the Manjet previously held, and I've recorded it's strength and made notations on the possible vessels capable of handling the current's power."

Cyrus nodded sharply in response,

"Good; leave out no detail, no matter how small. We will not know if we need the information or not until the time is at hand, and when that time comes, we will be glad for the time and effort we spent these nights."

Ehrin nodded in agreement, as did the massive Erik Hammerhand. Pandora suddenly appeared beside Cyrus, almost seeming to materialize from the shadows, yet only striding up to her bondmate's side with her soft, silent footsteps. He glanced down at her and knelt on one knee before her, affectionately scratching the soft fur behind her pointed canine ears. She tilted her head slightly to the side with pleasure, but her bright eyes showed the clarity of her thought and the single-minded purpose with which she approached the current mission.

"What have you found, Pandora?" The young legionnaire asked the Virkyn mentally.

"This land is dark, Cyrus, dark and dangerous. The ground itself reeks of claws of steel and hands that deal only death." Her blue eyes drifted to some of the nearby remnants of the trees that once dotted the landscape, then returned to the soldier's countence. "I have found paths that men can walk, however, trails that the mountain animals follow through the rocks and the trenches. The going is difficult, and impossible to negotiate with all the great trappings and the great numbers of the iron pack. It is not impossible for the light and the fast, and the few.

This is not all. Though I did not see them, the wind carrys the smell of mount and rider, all over the lands before the great mountains. Surely, the mountains themselves will contain more of these riders, and I can already smell the blood-lust which races like fire through their veins. You must avoid these riders at all costs Cyrus, and take care not to let these others be your doom. They are not you; they are not the Sword of the Sanguine."

Cyrus glanced away in thought, his features brooding and introspective. For all that she was to the legionnaire, there were some things about his life that Pandora never fully understood, and one of those things was his devotion to the Imperial Legion. Her understanding and intellect reached far deeper than the military world in which her bondmate existed, and it frustrated her at times to watch Cyrus adhere to the structure and life that the Legions dictated for him. She believed his destiny lay in greater pursuits, but she also knew that Cyrus was the only one who could dictate his path through life. It was one of the things she most loved about him.

"The world is greater than the Sanguine, Pandora. We will find a way through these mountains."

The russet wolf only lowered her head slightly in acquiescence, then she turned and loped forward a couple of feet before glancing back over her shoulder at Cyrus, indicating that she was ready to continue forward. Cyrus stood up and turned to his fellow soldiers.

"We will continue forward until we reach the foothills, should the darkness and the landscape continue to provide some cover for our ascent. Once the suns begin to rise or we have established where we will seperate from Daekin Avornmagor, we will turn back and head for Vers. Our route from that seperation point to the city will be the path that we will likely follow when we return and attempt to locate a way to Ire itself."

The other two soldiers silently nodded their understanding and consent, and without another sound, all three continued forward, following behind the russet shadow that led the way.

[Gauls]

Time, weather, and terrain all seemed to be against Cyrus and his group. The wind and now drizzle never let up. The rocky and muddy terrain slowed their pace no matter how hard they wanted to press on. Cyrus had already misjudged the time the whole operation would take when they first arrived at the jump-off point south of Vers after a four brightening journey. That distance itself would take its toll upon an army of any great size. After every 20 miles an army would have to camp, water and feed their animals, and regain lost strength from stragglers and sick/fatigued soldiers. All of this would have to be considered when the legions plan to move out.

Cyrus' group had already traveled four candlemarks to the point they now found themselves which was not an ideal place to stop. Since the group did not leave the jump-off point until mid-darkening, that left only seven candlemarks of darkness in which to complete their whole mission. Four of those seven candlemarks were already past trying to cross the rugged terrain and now off on the horizon, light could be seen filtering up into the sky. Dawn was only a few hours away.

Cyrus was on an exposed piece of land with the greater foothills dead ahead about 100 meters. Nothing but more rocky slightly elevated land was to the north and south and the Dark River continued its path winding up into unknown twists and turns through the hills. One thing of note was that the river was getting visibly more narrow and shallow the higher the elevation into the foothills the river went. It was only logical that the river would soon be fordable a little further upstream but where exactly would have to be discovered. The dark color of the water still prevented any real assessment of the water depth without actually stepping into it.

Though nothing could be seen, there was a slight sensation that could be sensed by the magically inclined. It was not certain if this sensation was magical itself but it did start to affect Cyrus and Pandora in a funny way. The closer they got to the greater foothills (those hills that were the next level higher in elevation and size from the lesser foothills), the greater this sensation came over them. It was like a muffling sensation almost like the sensation one would have with a head cold. It was filling their heads and began to affect the mental link between Cyrus and his companion. Was the weather causing them to become ill or was it something else?

Now a decision had to be made. Calculating the time it would take to re-cross the terrain in which they had came with the amount of night left, meant that it would be daylight long before they were back at the jump-off point. There were so many more tantalizing things that beckoned the group forward not to mention the heartening fact that they had not spotted an enemy to this point. There were the tell-tell signs that something had been here before but only going forward would be able to discern if they were still around. The only thing really stopping the group from going any further would be supplies and daylight. This is what commanders are for. To make those decisions.

[Cyrus Marius]

Without warning, Pandora stopped and reared her head sharply, as if struck with a sudden pain or shock. The wolf-like creature growled audibly and snapped her long muzzle at the air around her, then she instantly turned and all but galloped back to Cyrus' side. Immediately the legionnaire knelt to meet her, the Virkyn's strange reaction causing the young soldier to almost forget about his companions in his concern and curiosity.

"What is it Panodora? What do you sense?"

The russet Virkyn's luminous blue eyes met her bondmate's, and Cyrus began to recieve Pandora's voice through what seemed like a veil thrown between their mental connection. He still felt her as a part of him as deeply as ever, for their bond was of a spiritual rather than arcane nature, however the gifts that manifested with the bond seemed somehow dampened in the area that they were going deeper into.

"Cyr... something... our bond. Air, in the very... around us. Danger..."

The young legionnaire reached out and stroked the soft russet fur lovingly, but his face was dark with suspicion and concern. Already, the first rays of the comming day could be seen illuminating the horizan, and with the ravaging of the land at the hands of Orcish steel, there were precious few places to find shelter from the light of the brightening. The three soldiers would be exposed deep in enemy lands, and the Gods only knew how their presence could stir the hornet's nest.

"Ehrin," the legionnaire called over his shoulder.

"Sir?" the half-elf replied, running up to hear the Sword Daekin's words.

"Make note that there is some sort of... disturbance... in the arcanic weave surrounding the Khardran foothills, and that it worses as one heads deeper into the mountains."

Cyrus could hear the half-elf's quill quickly scratching across the surface of the parchment, but his attention lay on the situation at hand. Dawn lay only a few short candlemarks away, and with the night would go their only opportunity to advance undetected. Aside from that, a few more days without the proper supplies, and the group might not have the strength to repel any potential Orcish aggression. The temptation to continue forward was strong, especially so in the fearlessly bold Cyrus, however it was not only his life that the young legionnaire was responsible for. His mind went to the two soldiers that stood behind him, and the countless others that would benefit from what information and intelligence they had already gathered. To sacrifice all for a little more was not the most prudent course of action, and so with a small sigh of resignation, Cyrus rose fluidly to his feet and turned to face his fellows.

"We have accomplished as much of our mission as we will for the time being, gentlemen." It was true; Cyrus had gotten a much better idea of the lay of the land before entering into the Khardran mountains, and it had given him new insight as to how to plan and strategize for the comming war. The Legions had to be smart and use their numbers wisely, for the traditional tactics would not avail against the numbers that the Horde was rumored to posess. "Time works against us, and the suns will be in the sky before long. We turn back, following the river east by southeast, until we once again reach the thick forests south of Vers and the river. From there, we will journey south by southeast through the woods and reach Taralon before the cycle's end."

The other two soldiers nodded in unison, and Ehrin smiled slightly at the suggestion. The woods would be home to all manner of game and wildlife, and the three soldiers could live off the land as they travelled back to their stronghold in the east. The half-elf was an impressive shot with his longbow, and his knowledge of woodlore, particularly the Sherian countryside, was among the primary reasons Cyrus included him on this particular mission. The forest would also provide some manner of cover for the soldiers as they travelled, and should they run into trouble, the thickness of the wood should prevent worg riders from properly attacking the soldiers on foot, much the way cavalry would be entagled and hampered in similar terrain. Besides that, Cyrus had ideas about that forest, and only by seeing it with his own sapphire eye would he know if his ideas were founded or not.

"Come, we must hurry."

With that, Cyrus turned and began striding back in the direction that they had previously come, with Pandora racing ahead to scout the way. With dawn's arrival, the depth of the darkness surrounding her began to wane and so to did her cloaking ability, however the Virkyn still slipped like liquid shadow over the rocky and unforgiving terrain. The three soldiers followed as swiftly as their legs could carry them, each stifling their own fatigue and pressing ahead with the utmost fortitude and determination. The Empire was counting on the strength of her legionnaire's, and while there was breath in their bodies, they would not fail her.

[Gauls]

The mission had gone without a hitch. The group had retraced their steps successfully to their jump-off point and now Cyrus was free to deliver his knowledge of the terrain and the Dark River to his superiors. It was promising that Cyrus did not run into any enemy forces and was able to travel as far up to the Khardran foothills as they did. Now Cyrus and the rest of the Imperials were able to gauge travel time and equipment needed for any further attempts at marching forces to and over the mountain range that seperated the lands of good and evil.

Everything had almost went according to plan except the disturbing sensation that Cyrus and Pandora had experienced. It was still not certain if this sensation was magic in itself or something else. It was not even certain if the incident even merited mention to the higher ups but was something to note personally.

[Cyrus Marius]

The first rays of dawn seemed to chase the three soldiers as they wove their way back along the banks of the Dark River, following Pandora as she led them away from unfriendly eyes and towards the Great Wood to the south. Cyrus was silent as he navigated the landscape, his mind back on the foothills that he had been unable to investigate further. He longed to press deeper into enemy lands, to see with his own azure eye what lay in store for the Legions to follow, but now was not the time to risk it all. There would be more missions into the mountains themselves, and for now, there was more information to be gained about the rest of the Sherian countryside. Every stick and stone of the land that the Legions knew better than the Orcs was a small step towards victory.

It did not take long for the group to reach the area south of Vers again, and from there they turned further south into the Great Wood itself. Immediately, the world seemed again to be swallowed in darkness, so thick and emmense was the forest's cannopy. The sounds of wildlife could be heard all around, so different from the barren and stripped lands ravaged by the Horde. Though none of the soldiers spoke, all could feel the eyes of the forest watching them as they entered, taking note of all four beings to enter the Wood. Pandora no longer ran as far ahead as she did before, prefering to remain closer to her bondmate's side, luminous blue eyes flicking from shadow to shadow as they followed the swift moving shapes. Ehrin looked around the Wood in comfortable appreciation, however Erik Hammerhand looked downright sick, his skin pale and sweat dotting his forehead, and finally he stopped dead in his tracks.

"These are ill-omened woods, my brothers. I can feel the eyes of spirits watching me, their cold breath on my neck chilling my spine. The Hammerhand fears no mortal man nor beast, but the dead are a different story." The massive Vagaran shivered visibly as he said this, casting his pale-blue gaze around him nervously. "We should not linger in these woods."

"Nor do I intend to." Cyrus' reply was swift and brusuqe, evidence that the tension within the Great Wood was wearing even on his iron nerves. There was just something about the deeper reaches of the forest that called to the animal residing in all men, that primal knowledge that danger and death can lurk in the darkness. Steeling his resolve however, the young legionnaire turned from Erik towards Ehrin who stood nearby.

"We will wait here for a couple candlemarks, to let the suns rise and better illuminate our way. We are well covered by these woods, and an Orcish patrol would have to be nearly under our nose for us to be seen through this lush growth. Go quickly and find what game you can, and hurry back to this spot."

The half-elf nodded sharply, "Yes sir," and handed Cyrus the map that he had scrawled his information upon, then turned and all but vanished from sight. Cyrus looked at the area Ehrin had departed from for a moment, but then turned and addressed the russet Virkyn that roamed by his legs.

Kneeling before her, Cyrus cupped her canine head in his hands and looked into her bright blue orbs.

"Pandora, it is time to hunt. Gather the gifts of the forest, and bring them to me."

The Virkyn's eyes blinked and she lowered her head slightly in understanding, then she to turned and all but vanished from sight. Unlike the half-elf Ehrin, who used his skill and agility, Pandora simply became one with the endless shadows that surrounded her, loosing her solid consistency until she was just another shadow soon lost amongst the rest. Cyrus watched her leave for a moment, then turned back towards Erik. The Vagaran seemed lost and frightened, however true to his Vagaran pride, the massive man was showing as little signs of his discomfort as he could. His visage was set in it's customary scowl and he gripped his single-handed war hammer with such intensity that his knuckles were turning white. Cyrus strode over to the large soldier and took a seat on an emmense network of roots that lay exposed nearby, resting his back against the mammoth tree that had spawned the root cluster.

"Have a seat, my brother. Rest for a moment. The spirits will not bother us, and we shall be on our way again soon."

Erik glanced over at him, but the unspoken strength and assurance within Cyrus character gave the Vagaran the faith he needed to trust the man implicitly. The massive soldier likewise sat at the base of a great tree, and both soldiers then drew their armaments and began honing them with the methodical and critical approach ingrained into the Legion's finest infantry. Karvaaka gleamed slightly in the dim light of the Wood, it's soft, subtle light rising and falling as Cyrus' hand rubbed the crystalline steel blade with a red-colored oil and patch of rawhide. Erik ran a whetstone over the pick at the back end of his small hammer, and both legionaires kept an eye on their surroundings, watching for the return of their commrades.

Pandora was quick in returning, a pair of thin, ragged-looking rabbits clutched in her bloody maw. From the bond between them, Cyrus knew that she had already feasted on one of the rabbits she found, and her satiated hunger aided the young soldier in his own mortal complaints. Now, she presented her prize to her bondmate and his ally, and at the sight of food, Erik's spirits picked up and he smiled broadly as he lurched to his feet and began preparing a small firepit for their meal.

"What a hound! Swift and sure as an arrow she is, by the Gods. Brother, where did you get such a beast?"

Cyrus smiled his own secret smile as Pandora let the pair fall from teeth and trotted up beside him, his long arm reaching out and sliding around the russet Virkyn affectionately. The feel and smell of her coat flooded Cyrus' senses, and for a heartbeat, the young legionnaire allowed himself to forget about the cares and concerns of the war and simply appreciate his bondmate's presence.

"She is special Erik; she is one of a kind."

The Vagaran smiled again and nodded, then busied himself with preparing their spare meal. Cyrus returned to tending Karvaaka, and they waited for the last member of their party to return before they continued.