Northstar Vale six saintly shrouded men

He had busied himself almost immediately upon his acceptance, an excellent and dutiful hunstman. Exley had formed two caches, one within the spacious woodland and one within the foothills. Though prey was scarce, a necessary feature of winter, he had managed to catch enough voles and unaware birds to fill one. Today, he aimed to pad the second with whatever game he could find. The day was fair, the sun burned pale in the sky, and Narcissus' tongue hung lackadaisic and joyful from the corner of his mouth.

He loped over the gentle slopes of the foothills, with the Sunspire's shadow looming over him. Narcissus was boyish in likening the mountains to colossal monsters, every cave a haunting grin. Even as he trotted along its base, he glanced up and marvelled at its majesty and breadth. To climb a mountain that tall was an adventurer's fantasy; it called to him on some level. Yet he was a ranger, suited first to the coast where he had been born and his litter blessed by Kei of the sea, and second to forests. Of mountains, he knew little. L'amour's ignorance would prove treasonous should he wander their craggy heights.

So he stuck to the lowlands instead, searching for game, but not adverse to company. Tenzin had explained much upon his admittance into the pack. What had stuck the most was that it was not customary for factions to intermingle... But Narcissus was old-fashioned and believed in packs as a whole, not a scattered handful of factions. If a cleric wandered up to him, he would not pale at their company nor spurn it. He was a social animal, and would welcome all company, provided it came from within the Vale.