The fringes of the plains and Linosea Forest were more than familiar territory. The darkness of the forest and the muted greenery of the plains were as opposite as night and day for those unfamiliar with the laws of the land. However, despite having lived nomadically along the fringes, Faolan hadn't seen every single inch of that line. There was no way to, not for a single elf who had just become an adult not too long ago.
Not even during the tail end of his adolescence either, though he did find himself traveling a fair bit back then.
The sky wasn't its usual expanse of blue. Unfortunate considering it was almost time for him and G'reg to head over the mountains. He'd heard a strange rumor the last time he'd been in a Pren village. Something about a shrine to a fire Oracle going up in flames and burning everything alive. Sounded like fear mongering to Faolan, but G'reg had expressed interest and Faolan wasn't yet skilled enough to control the beast.
As the sky grew darker, a nagging itch in the back of Faolan's conscious pulled him away from his inner thoughts.
"What is it, G'reg?"
G'reg's voice was unmistakable. Deceptively human and warm. Whenever G'reg would intrude, Faolan was captivated. How could a dragon's words sound so inviting?
"You'll do well to find shelter, elven. I will not fly in these rains."
Faolan shoved G'reg's presence away and pressed forward with a new sense of urgency. G'reg was off in the plains somewhere and Faolan didn't need to be told twice. Sleeping in the trees was ill-advised when the storms would rage. He pulled his leather cloak around himself. He was just at the crest of a small hill and he could see a small house with a person sitting outside of it.
He immediately reached out to G'reg, who chuffed.
"You didn't know about this house, did you?"
G'reg didn't respond.
Faolan decided not to press the issue and pressed on, making his way down the hill to the house. The closer he got, the more he could make out. Some chairs, a table, a fence. Did someone actually live out here other than him? Astounding.
He approached Atlas, cautious.
"Pardon the intrusion," Faolan said slowly. "I'm not prepared to travel the plains in a storm. Might I wait here until it passes?"
Not even during the tail end of his adolescence either, though he did find himself traveling a fair bit back then.
The sky wasn't its usual expanse of blue. Unfortunate considering it was almost time for him and G'reg to head over the mountains. He'd heard a strange rumor the last time he'd been in a Pren village. Something about a shrine to a fire Oracle going up in flames and burning everything alive. Sounded like fear mongering to Faolan, but G'reg had expressed interest and Faolan wasn't yet skilled enough to control the beast.
As the sky grew darker, a nagging itch in the back of Faolan's conscious pulled him away from his inner thoughts.
"What is it, G'reg?"
G'reg's voice was unmistakable. Deceptively human and warm. Whenever G'reg would intrude, Faolan was captivated. How could a dragon's words sound so inviting?
"You'll do well to find shelter, elven. I will not fly in these rains."
Faolan shoved G'reg's presence away and pressed forward with a new sense of urgency. G'reg was off in the plains somewhere and Faolan didn't need to be told twice. Sleeping in the trees was ill-advised when the storms would rage. He pulled his leather cloak around himself. He was just at the crest of a small hill and he could see a small house with a person sitting outside of it.
He immediately reached out to G'reg, who chuffed.
"You didn't know about this house, did you?"
G'reg didn't respond.
Faolan decided not to press the issue and pressed on, making his way down the hill to the house. The closer he got, the more he could make out. Some chairs, a table, a fence. Did someone actually live out here other than him? Astounding.
He approached Atlas, cautious.
"Pardon the intrusion," Faolan said slowly. "I'm not prepared to travel the plains in a storm. Might I wait here until it passes?"
