Shadewood His hair's on fire and his heart is burning

[table width=72%][tr][td]

Since its rise, Grievous has been haunted by a high and cloudless sun.

The black of his cape beckons in long fingers of unpleasant light, and it stems his progress to a slow ooze as he hunts without enthusiasm for relief. He holds himself low and steady, as if to hide beneath the reach of his invisibly arresting pursuer, but the silence that would accompany him usually is broken by his quick and heavy panting; dressed too with a lolling tongue and heaving chest.

Born of the mountains, his lungs are naturally large and well-suited for distance and exertion of all types, but the rest of him is so tuned to the cold that the sun has long-since been a rival to his success.

And having sworn off of cliffs and ledges and brooding heights alike, he has become tasked to find accommodations that will suit his natural strengths and weaknesses as a mountaineer— without subjecting himself to the palisades themselves.

Crossing a river cools him, but the space is still shelterless, and unless he intended to live exclusively submerged for a half a year while the hotter months passed, he'd have to find sanctuary elsewhere... But even as he recognizes this, the distantly unmistakable silhouette of a broad forestland strikes him into quickening his pace.

Grievous graciously shoulders on a cowl of cool shade as he finds himself spilling to the shadows provided by a historically dense wood. The scent of prey overwhelms him, making him forget his previous strife as his first goal has now been met and evolves now into a second objective of filling his stomach.

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