Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Gnarled Expectations (1x1 with Bialis Conroy)

The cold sting of the winter morning had caressed the spine of the waking Tonaf, as he retreated back under his bed covers against the sudden onslaught of frost. It had been snowing rather fiercely these past few days in the forest, more so than what Tonaf had ever seen since his days as a lad. Although the winter torrent had finally relented, the damage had already been done. The entire woods were caked under mountains of snow, rivers and still ponds alike had frozen solid, and icy chill made even the task of getting out of bed a herculean gauntlet.

Tonaf despised winter. It was his least favourite season in Dukewood. With all the best game in hibernation and the mounds of snow making his job even more laborious, the Wood Dwarf's reluctance to leave his chamber had allowed him to quietly ponder whether he would manage well in this particular winter. It was only when he managed to drag himself across the wooden floor board and snatch at his clothing that he realized a little bit of aid was needed.

There was one single settlement surrounding Dukewood forest: Glythryncote village was about a mile away. Although Tonaf would only use the elderly horses rented there for the sake of hauling his packed lumbercart home and back, this dangerous season left no chances. Tonaf wasted little more time as he dressed himself, spurred on by the cold. In a false hurry, Ton quickly left his home as he dragged the rope of his rickety lumbercart south of the forest maze. It was especially dark and gloomy and this time of the morning, but the Wood Dwarf knew Dukewood like the back of his hand. There was no trouble as he raced south of the woods.

Such a winter -- Bialis didn't recall if he'd ever seen such snow. Of course he was foreign to these parts, this... well, he could pronounce the village's name, but spelling it seemed out of the question. Perhaps that foreignness was behind it. But for a traveler -- a constant traveler, a vagrant to be more precise -- it was rotten. Miserable. His boots became soaked again and again, faster than he could dry them, his funds dwindling -- along with opportunities to increase them, as everyone had begun to remain in their homes, vigilant, and hidden as he might be able to make himself ordinarily, he was bound to contrast against the surrounding whiteness, shadows or no. He hadn't even a coat -- though at least about his shoulders rested a thick, decently repellent woolen brown cloak which shielded him.

Last winter, he recalled being more pleasant. Spent largely warm and indoors, hadn't it been -- in good company and not wanting for food? Now freezing, skulking round alleys, or better, corners of a dingy tavern in hopes that they would ignore him and fail to kick him out if he bought the cheapest watery soup they offered and then hung around all day, to say nothing of various... troubles he had come by recently. An angry and distant teenaged vagrant who looked upon the very ground he walked on as if it had personally wronged him. (Considering his boots, perhaps in a sense it had.)

He hadn't a destination -- viewed the approaching cart with the same dull-eyed distaste as with he viewed puffed-up squirrels and bundled-up children. Still. It was something new. Something to look at, and covet, perchance come by ideas for getting warm...