01-10-2021, 09:18 AM
IT'S HARD TO FOLLOW THE VOICE
WINTER -- MEETING NO.1 -- THE FROSTBLOWN -- SAGE/VALEREADER'S HUT -- PROMOTIONAL & FIRST MEETING
bitter the winds raging around, pushing and pulling at the snow, breath stolen by fierce gale, eyelashes bowed heavily upon by blizzard's touch. cloak and body heavily weighed upon by snow and ice, the glow of lantern barely making it through heaps and mounds of snow. press of tongue to cheek, metal rung of lantern painful against tongue, eyes barely open to see through the snows. howling about ears the screaming voice of the winter's wails. head down, braving through the storm's rage toward warm shelters. there would be no easy meetings today, no, they would have to be held within their own hut, lonely as it was. looking up at the trees and huts far above their head, the valereader would give a low rumble of discontent before leaping up and clawing their way up the massive trunk of their own tree.
setting the lantern down momentarily to stretch and yawn, the zheng would pick up the lantern before going on their rounds to stop by the huts of the group members, summoning them to the meeting. finishing their round of calling upon those in their homes, they would walk back to their own, regretting the moan of the wooden bridge beneath their paws, making a mental note to repair it. shaking off in the shelter of their home, they would continue inside, bringing out more guarded lanterns to light them and place them outside of their hut, signaling that a meeting was being called. thank the heavens for bear fat, or the lanterns wouldn't be burning right now, and they would be in secluded darkness.
lonely the wooden and clay walls of the hut, empty and dreary the building, whistle of wind reaching their ears from the roof. come the thaws, they must see to repairing the building itself, although their mind was more pre-occupied with the amount of things that they would have to discuss in this meeting, including their ascension to the rank of sage, which they doubted would go smoothly. the patrol had not returned and skirmishes were erupting between the ashfoots, knights and corps members, let alone in the greenhorns. they had no choice - something had to be done, and many things had to change. the prior sage was soft, too soft and lenient upon the members of the frostblown, allowing them to grow fat and lazy.
the winter was a moderate one for them, yet the laziness made it out to be difficult, many of the group members refusing to go out to hunt or to patrol their borders - this was unacceptable. burdened by their thoughts, the valereader took their place at the head of the hut, sitting upon a pile of furs, waiting for the others to file in. mind distracted by thoughts of the patrol that had not returned, it had been months since it had occured. there was no hope in waiting anymore - they would need to call a tournament of the masters to fill in the ranks. they could uphold the rank of sage, and heal those else around them, but they could not hope to fill the ranks of the head knights and the corps captains, those ranks were needed in order to teach the rest around them. gritting their jaws, they worked their claws against the furs, sorely regretting the fact that they must call the meeting within the day, performing the tradition of anitt's star, to pronounce the patrol dead and to state their own ascension of ranks.
setting the lantern down momentarily to stretch and yawn, the zheng would pick up the lantern before going on their rounds to stop by the huts of the group members, summoning them to the meeting. finishing their round of calling upon those in their homes, they would walk back to their own, regretting the moan of the wooden bridge beneath their paws, making a mental note to repair it. shaking off in the shelter of their home, they would continue inside, bringing out more guarded lanterns to light them and place them outside of their hut, signaling that a meeting was being called. thank the heavens for bear fat, or the lanterns wouldn't be burning right now, and they would be in secluded darkness.
lonely the wooden and clay walls of the hut, empty and dreary the building, whistle of wind reaching their ears from the roof. come the thaws, they must see to repairing the building itself, although their mind was more pre-occupied with the amount of things that they would have to discuss in this meeting, including their ascension to the rank of sage, which they doubted would go smoothly. the patrol had not returned and skirmishes were erupting between the ashfoots, knights and corps members, let alone in the greenhorns. they had no choice - something had to be done, and many things had to change. the prior sage was soft, too soft and lenient upon the members of the frostblown, allowing them to grow fat and lazy.
the winter was a moderate one for them, yet the laziness made it out to be difficult, many of the group members refusing to go out to hunt or to patrol their borders - this was unacceptable. burdened by their thoughts, the valereader took their place at the head of the hut, sitting upon a pile of furs, waiting for the others to file in. mind distracted by thoughts of the patrol that had not returned, it had been months since it had occured. there was no hope in waiting anymore - they would need to call a tournament of the masters to fill in the ranks. they could uphold the rank of sage, and heal those else around them, but they could not hope to fill the ranks of the head knights and the corps captains, those ranks were needed in order to teach the rest around them. gritting their jaws, they worked their claws against the furs, sorely regretting the fact that they must call the meeting within the day, performing the tradition of anitt's star, to pronounce the patrol dead and to state their own ascension of ranks.