[AW] bone to rune; skull to dust [AW]

[Turhan]

“ bone to rune ”

Oddly enough, stars guided the blind man's way.  It had taken two full days to get where he was now where it would have taken a young horse (presumably a fast one) less than a full day to arrive to its destination.  He was sore, and tired, and exhausted from his trip to Veneror.  He would not complain of it though, and he would not treat his arthritic flare-ups as a burden.  It was necessary, he welcomed the stiff bones and the deep ache that filled his hollow body.  The ritual had been worth it, Vespera had pointed a way to his new home .. even if it wasn't exactly 'new' to the returning Ilati.  It had just been many-many moons, long before the kingdom had been started.  Long before politics turned it into such.


He did not care to reminisce on the days of old - they were filled with bloodshed and betrayal to his people.  The Ilati tribes that once lived here were no more - they had been chased out, scattered, then hunted to the point of near-extinction.  They had no choice but to go deep into the wilds where they could live and practice in peace.  Turhan's collected group of apprentices had camped along Rapax River long before it ever had a name, until it became too dangerous.  They had much to protect, and despite his fierce heart which was unafraid of battle, what use was any of his wisdom and knowledge if he were to die stupidly fighting for free land?


He was an alien to them all, fully covered in blood and bone dust, reeking of patchouli and other musky flowers he ground into a salve to smear onto his aching joints.  He wore a cow skull with long horns that protruded forward from the headplate.  Turhan had painted his face white even though his coat was the color of cedar and soot.  His mane was wild, thick, rough, and full of braids, bones, ribbons, and more.  When the wind blew, the prayer bells hanging down either side of his face jingled brightly in the dim stellar light. 


With a serious hitch in his step and a pace that could match a tortoise's, he followed the smell of woodsmoke.  A fire had been lit and left alone long enough, he heard no voices from the beyond the trees.  Turhan loitered with great caution before deciding he'd very much like to sit by the warm fire and made his way towards the clearing.  It was hard to say where he was - it had been years and years since he had come to this area (fled from it).  Vespera, he knew, would guide him no matter which way. The acolyte trusted she wouldn't invite him here to have him destroyed,


And so, the Elder stepped into the warm glow of the campfire light both weary and wary.  The light revealed him to be a black horse with a white face, a large mane like that of a lion's only wildly decorated. He knelt into the dirt before sitting down with a heavy, exhausted sigh.  He'd make camp here tonight but in the morning, he'd have to find his own shelter for sure.


ooc:  Forgive me, new character + first post = disaster!

T U R H A N  ~ 
skull to dust