Sunbeam Lair your protector's coming home

[table width=85%][tr][td]

There is some surprise when his howl in answered by a physical presence, followed shortly thereafter by a bought of guilt that he had drawn the pallid woman from the safety and warmth of her shelter to greet him. As Tonrar’s lips parted to answer her questions, his jaws closed when another approached, this one stark ebony against the raging whiteout around them. Tonrar bows his head before the women, submissive to them and grateful that they braved the storm to greet him instead of simply responding back with a howl to send him away. He drew in a deep breath of the cold air, feeling as it settled in the warmth of his lungs before he let it out in a slightly breathless exhale. The winds were fierce, unrelenting and utterly unforgiving and Tonrar knew that regardless of what followed: if this path opened before him or closed off to him he would need to repay them. Whether he was accepted into their fold or sent on his way he would not leave the disruption of balance. Despite the belief that he is a reincarnation of Warpath — one of the many Chiefs of Old — he lacks the skill to decode the messages in their paths. He felt a bit like a puppet on a string, cast around by a puppeteer he could not begin to fathom understanding without a Shaman by his side but his faith in the Chiefs of Old is strong and unwavering nevertheless and he trusts that they will lead him where he is meant to go. The Chiefs of Old will provide, were those not the words he had uttered to the stranger mere days (or was it a week?) ago? Even Mother Nature, as furious as she was, would provide for them.

“I am called Tonrar,” the masked Warpath offered his name to the two women humbly. “I am sorry for the inconvenience of my timing,” He offered them sincerely, his ears splaying flat against his crown in a moment of regret but it is done and he deigned not to waste their kindness. “I seek shelter, a home. In return I offer my skills to you and yours.” As the warpup, groomed for the role of war chief before he accepted exile, he was taught many skills but his focus had been on a balance: nature and war. To understand the hearts of wolves and to understand the heart of the earth as much as a living being as he was. “I am a Naturalist and Mercenary first and foremost.” He offered them, keeping it simple and to the point.

[/td][/tr][/table]