Order of the Seven

He had never seen totems like these... Not even in all of his times in Forochel. The beast stood head and shoulders even above The Little Lion who simply gripped his axe a little tighter as the creature snarled. He wore a wolves fur over his face and body, crawling and stomping around on all fours. He knew he wasn't alone. Two more had taken up behind the trees just to this ones left...

He could hear and feel the wheezing as he fought to breath, each one causing him to cry out in pain but nothing ever left his lips. He could hear the clattering and fighting around him, the world had grown so much darker, he could barely even see his hand as it reached to clutch his fallen blade. Only to realize, it was but a rock. Knowing now that he had led this company of people who  gave him an inkling of trust, and he had not the strength to wield his own blade in their defense. 

"You've yet returned, my student?" The lithe figure clasped his hands together as he peered over the man that stood before him, clad in a tattered crimson hood and shoulder wrap. His trappings worn and weathered, clearly having seen better days but one object stood out from all the others. A shimmering brooch pinned upon his breast.

The bright light of the afternoon sun burned Lissi's eyes as she cracked them open. Her head...oh, how it throbbed! She rolled to her side with a groan, closing her eyes tightly until the shadow of her own body provided a shelter for her eyes. There was a feeling of something sticky reaching from her right temple, down her chin and neck. She lifted her hand to her head gingerly, feeling along the trail slowly.

Ioranir sat quietly in front of the fire that sat in the middle of the hut, stirring a bowl of fish head stew slowly. He had only returned to his hut a few moments before everyone had gone to sleep and decided a quick meal wouldn't hurt. With the fresh snow coming in, only people who had undergone the rites of passage into becoming a fledged member within the tribe were allowed out during the night time due to the various predators that stalked in the fresh night air.

Dear Eckardt,

Sarnai sat alone by the fire, cleaning one of her weapons. It was an arming sword of pale metal, its crossguard wrought in graceful shapes, with a grass-green beryl set in the hilt. Although it was not the kind of blade she had been familiar with from her father's arms, it was Sarnai's first sword, a gift from her first true friend west of the Misty Mountains.