Neverwinter Forest (cloud) come shove it, shove it, shove it

within the mánilundur / moongrove | img ref
— note that in the center of the grove there is a large boulder circled by moonflowers

trade: spiritualist
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no longer a shadow. the guardian had dug out his den, having up-rooted a single moonflower to plant within the front of his den, a testament to the máni dama. now, having moved from his den to the edge of the clearing, he took a breath. a quiet prayer was said before he dipped into the grove. glowing with moonlight.

halló, tunglhjarta, he murmured, padding towards the boulder that sat in the middle of the glade, ensuring that his pawsteps did not disturb the blooms at its base. þú hefur gert vel. þú heldur skógi sterkum. vel gert. gentle praise delivered to the heart.

he lowered his head, then, craning his neck to nose at the flowers. og þú líka. fallegur. máni dama er stolt. a smile upon his face. perhaps being a guardian, a protector, was his purpose, rather than being a warrior. this was what peace felt like.

rökkur thought back to @Solharr, then. thankful for this gift. this purpose.

yoink

It was a bobcat — he hadn't recognized the scent until he found its scat, and then the memories all came back to him. He'd hunted just one in the past, not because it'd been causing trouble, but because their pelts were worth a lot of meals to the right people.

He hadn't ended up killing it. He didn't think they'd have to kill this one, either, but he thought it best to see it removed before whelping season began.

The trail led him deeper into the woodland than he'd usually go. It kept disappearing and picking up several yards away — going up trees and traveling through the canopies, he'd realized. And it was during one of these disappearances that his ears swiveled toward the sound of a familiar voice. And there, up ahead, was an unusual glow.

Abandoning the trail, Catamaran trotted off to see the sunlight.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, bemused and just a little put off by the scene. But he liked Rokkur, and he wondered if, perhaps, the man just needed to get out and hunt a little more.

trade: spiritualist

his ears, primed and attentive, picked up catamarans' steps before his words. though relaxed, mellowed, safe within the mánilundur, he knew that this was a sacred place. a place where tales and stories ebbed and flowed through the canopy; where máni's gaze shone, wise and watchful. and so his defenses were high. alert.

but he made no move. a twitch of his ear when northern words flowed to him, though, signified his attention while he continued to nose about the flowers, checking for any sign of damage, corruption, disease. you are not. he confirmed. tone soft, almost comforted and cozied by the glade, by the tall trees that encircled them.

i am doing my duty to the moongrove, rökkur said. a confidence laced his tongue: one of purpose, of finality. he had, after all this time, found his calling. not a warrior, but a lorekeeper. a religious man. tending to her. her heart keeps the surrounding forest alive. you see how it brims with life? a factual edge to his words. a true belief.

though they may not be true within the laws of nature, he believed them to be so. he looked back at the pale man, then, gesturing him forwards with a tail sweep and a nod. that is her doing. her will. strengthened by the moon and the loyalties to her. he looked over at him, then. a sense of knowing glittered beyond scarlet hues.

i will understand if you wish not to celebrate her, he pointed out. but she is my belief; my support; my life. and so i wish for you to understand me.

a bit ranty, he was. but a topic of such personal importance was worth it.