THE TIES THAT BIND ||| THE LEGEND OF VOX MACHINA

A Night To Remember

The dying embers of the small campfire quickly dimmed as the early morning breeze steadily increased in strength. Breaking himself from the self imposed trance, Ragnvaldr released a heavy sigh as he unwound his fingers from Moonless's snow white coat. Reluctantly he stood to his intimidating height of 6'3 and pursed his lips letting out a shrill whistle, forcing the Dire Wolf splayed out on the grass to shoot her stalky head from the ground, quirking her neck towards her master. "Come, Moonless. We should head back." he ordered with a grumbling bashful tone.

Loyally Moonless clambered upright onto her claw tipped paws, unshackling her tooth lined maw and releasing a whining yawn, trotting behind Ragnvaldr whom had already stepped away from the now dissipated flames. The Oldegårdian marched from the small clearing toward the edge of the circling tree line, passing by a gaggle of now slaughtered Brigands, the butchered corpses lay scattered amongst the remains of their makeshift campsite.

Ragnvaldr trudged through the ankle high, dew drenched grass towards one of the dead men dressed in poorly stitched leather armour face down in the dirt. Coming to a stop he bent forward and gripped onto the handle of his well used, blood covered hand axe, wrenching it with a sickening squelch from the dead mans back. Ragnvaldr then wiped the axes crimson covered edge against the thin blades of grass, cleaning as much as he could of the sickly liquid from his precious weapon.

Finishing the simple action as quickly as he could, eager to leave the gory mess of a scene behind and head back toward the city of Emon to collect his reward for another job well done. Exhaling angrily he bounded upright, twisted on his heel and marched toward the forest of stubby, thick trunked trees, carrying his axe in hand thanks to his strange lack of sheath any were on his person. Moonless meanwhile, fell into step with her human companion, trotting closely beside him all while remaining as alert as her exhausted form would allow her, keeping her ears and nose open for any possible threats.

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After traversing the forest with nothing but the glowing light of the full moon unimpeded, the pair arrived on the outskirts of the nearly sixty foot high thick stone wall protecting the mainland's capital from any outside threats. Following along its towering perimeter, Ragnvaldr shadowed by Moonless approached the still open gate, left to be guarded by a mere skeleton crew. It never ceased to amaze him just how lacking the defences for the Councils base of operations were. Even with a supposed monster roaming devastating the land, those in charge remained complacent in their own citizenry's safety.

Scoffing lightly at the poorly sight, the Barbarian strolled right passed the half asleep guardsmen. None of the heavily armed militia stopped to question the rather suspicious sight that lay in front of them. If it were out of fear or sheer indifference, Ragnvaldur didn't care, his only concern now was getting back to the tavern and gorging himself and Moonless with a well earned meal and some rest.

Soon, the grass and dirt beneath their feet turned to neatly arranged stone cobbles moulded into the ground. Both Moonless's near silent paw patters and Ragnvaldr's softened footfalls now tapped incessantly against the stone work. As they travelled toward the Central District of the city, following its winding rather confusing streets devoid of any life apart from the odd Guard patrol and those either in the middle of a good drinking session or finishing up their night, near collapsed on the spot. 

After making a few wrong turns and inevitably getting lost in the layered, maze like Capital they made it to their overnight haul. A large triangularly roofed Tavern with its pearly white walls and decorative wooden highlights stood before him. A small set of winding steps led up toward it, with a series of burning street lamps peppering the waist high, adjourning walls either side the path. Light also emanated from the cross beamed windows, letting lights from the lanterns inside pour out into the night, acting as a sort of makeshift beacon to lost souls like him on cold damp nights.