The call of the hunt...
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A young farmhand hefting bags of flour for Wald pauses in his task. He rises, slowly, letting the large sack fall from his grasp. He listens to …distant... thumping. Concern etches the youth's face as he peers past the southern gates into the ominous Rawlins. Goblins, he thinks to himself. Leaving the sacks where they lie the young man dashes down the hill and makes for his home. Better get ma and pa inside.
Others hear the distant drums and prepare… soldiers move to the walls, and a contigent of the Morninglord's brethren descend from Lathander's shining temple with bandages and healing supplies. Norwick's tougher citizens heft axes, swords, and bows and scatter along the southern walls, taking cover and eying the dark woods.
In time the thumping fades and the sounds of the woodlands return. The warriors and guards go back to their business and the town of Norwick enjoys yet another peaceful reprieve. The young farmhand tosses the last sack into the storehouse, careful not to attract the notice of Wald's pets, and finishes up his work.
It's not until the following day that he hears the news. The militia found the chambers of Chancellor Mecc empty of all his possessions, his keys and crest sitting plainly on the table next to a short note:
@45d7fcd803=Chancellor:
This pack has grown strong.
Hunt well, and may His Senses guide you to bountiful prey.Over some of the boar's ale Frago's tongue wags of provisioning the cleric of Malar with basic hunting supplies and watching him depart into the Rawlinswoods, a young tribal girl with similarly red-tinged skin following behind bearing his spears.
//ooc on
Mecc now resides in the Malarite hunting grounds provisioned and set aside in the far deep woods by Andu'mien during his time as elder druid. The druids of the circle know of it's location. It's a wild, primal place of predators and prey, and yet more predators. Mecc can be found there if you need him.
//ooc off
