Difference between revisions of "Liath Leac-An-Teintein"
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[[Image:Liath Liath WinterStracair.jpg|left|200px|thumb|Liath and Stràcair in Winter]] | [[Image:Liath Liath WinterStracair.jpg|left|200px|thumb|Liath and Stràcair in Winter]] | ||
Not knowing how long he would live and beginning to feel overwhelmed by the number of his friends who had now passed into the sleeping caves, on his 111th birthday Liath decided to take his leave of the village. It was the hardest decision he had ever made, but he felt he could no longer watch while everyone he knew went before him. Taking only what he could carry easily, Liath bade farewell to everything he knew and set off out of the mountains he called home, intent on seeing as much of the world beyond as he could. Several months after leaving Carraig Fàrdach, he had come across a pregnant wolf whose leg had was trapped. Approaching the animal carefully, Liath spoke soothingly to it while he pried away some of the rocks allowing it to pull free. The wolf quickly sprang away from him, looking at him suspiciously for long moments as it tested it's weight on the formerly trapped limb, before moving off into the nearby forest occasionally glancing back at him. When it saw he wasn't following the wolf stopped and cocked it's head at him, almost questioningly. Liath decided to follow it, moving slowly and keeping his distance. This seemed to satisfy the wolf who moved ahead, leading him to it's lair. Deciding this was as good a place as any to rest, he set up camp a short distance from the lair. Several days later the wolf gave birth to a litter of four bundles of fur. Intrigued by the apparent trust which had been extended to him, Liath decided to stay in the forest for a little while longer and would visit the lair, watching the wolf cubs grow. For the wolves part it was almost as if he was part of the scenery, as if they knew he would no more harm them than would a tree or blade of grass. Indeed only one cub from the litter seemed to take any interest in him, often following him almost all the way back to his camp and indeed on his hikes into the surrounding foothills. After pausing in that idyllic spot for several months, the wanderlust took Liath again and he packed up his few belongings intent on moving on. He spent several minutes standing watching the wolves play outside their lair, his heart heavy at leaving them despite his conflicting desire to be on the move again. As he turned away the wolf cub which had adopted him leapt in front of him, blocking his path for a few moments as it looked up at him with the same questioning eyes as it's mother. Even though it was only a few months old, it was a clever and sturdy little tike, all muscle and sinew from it's time spent wandering with him. Liath looked down meeting it's gaze, then stepped around it, heading southwards out of the forest. Behind him he heard the familiar pad of soft furred feet and couldn't help but smile. Although he didn't seek out the attachment, he had grown used to the little one being there. <"If you are going to come with me, you shall need a name my little wanderer."><span style="vertical-align: super; font-size: 75%;">[3]</span> he said over his shoulder. <"That's it! Wanderer."> And so Liath travelled ever southwards with Stràcair <span style="vertical-align: super; font-size: 75%;">[4]</span> growing larger at his heel.<br><br> | Not knowing how long he would live and beginning to feel overwhelmed by the number of his friends who had now passed into the sleeping caves, on his 111th birthday Liath decided to take his leave of the village. It was the hardest decision he had ever made, but he felt he could no longer watch while everyone he knew went before him. Taking only what he could carry easily, Liath bade farewell to everything he knew and set off out of the mountains he called home, intent on seeing as much of the world beyond as he could. Several months after leaving Carraig Fàrdach, he had come across a pregnant wolf whose leg had was trapped. Approaching the animal carefully, Liath spoke soothingly to it while he pried away some of the rocks allowing it to pull free. The wolf quickly sprang away from him, looking at him suspiciously for long moments as it tested it's weight on the formerly trapped limb, before moving off into the nearby forest occasionally glancing back at him. When it saw he wasn't following the wolf stopped and cocked it's head at him, almost questioningly. Liath decided to follow it, moving slowly and keeping his distance. This seemed to satisfy the wolf who moved ahead, leading him to it's lair. Deciding this was as good a place as any to rest, he set up camp a short distance from the lair. Several days later the wolf gave birth to a litter of four bundles of fur. Intrigued by the apparent trust which had been extended to him, Liath decided to stay in the forest for a little while longer and would visit the lair, watching the wolf cubs grow. For the wolves part it was almost as if he was part of the scenery, as if they knew he would no more harm them than would a tree or blade of grass. Indeed only one cub from the litter seemed to take any interest in him, often following him almost all the way back to his camp and indeed on his hikes into the surrounding foothills. After pausing in that idyllic spot for several months, the wanderlust took Liath again and he packed up his few belongings intent on moving on. He spent several minutes standing watching the wolves play outside their lair, his heart heavy at leaving them despite his conflicting desire to be on the move again. As he turned away the wolf cub which had adopted him leapt in front of him, blocking his path for a few moments as it looked up at him with the same questioning eyes as it's mother. Even though it was only a few months old, it was a clever and sturdy little tike, all muscle and sinew from it's time spent wandering with him. Liath looked down meeting it's gaze, then stepped around it, heading southwards out of the forest. Behind him he heard the familiar pad of soft furred feet and couldn't help but smile. Although he didn't seek out the attachment, he had grown used to the little one being there. <"If you are going to come with me, you shall need a name my little wanderer."><span style="vertical-align: super; font-size: 75%;">[3]</span> he said over his shoulder. <"That's it! Wanderer."> And so Liath travelled ever southwards with Stràcair <span style="vertical-align: super; font-size: 75%;">[4]</span> growing larger at his heel.<br><br> | ||
− | [[file:Liath_Liath_Greyheadbanner3.jpg|center]]<br><br>Over the next few years Liath's great strength proved a boon on their travels, often affording them the opportunity to aid someone in return for food or money or shelter. They tried to arrange their passage through villages or settlements during festival times, when there were often strangers about. It was during one such encounter that Liath got involved in a show of strength by wrestling several men from the coastal village at once. Naturally he was victorious and later that evening as he sat by a roaring fire with a large | + | [[file:Liath_Liath_Greyheadbanner3.jpg|center]]<br><br>Over the next few years Liath's great strength proved a boon on their travels, often affording them the opportunity to aid someone in return for food or money or shelter. They tried to arrange their passage through villages or settlements during festival times, when there were often strangers about. It was during one such encounter that Liath got involved in a show of strength by wrestling several men from the coastal village at once. Naturally he was victorious and later that evening as he sat by a roaring fire with a large flagon of a heady mead in his mighty fist, a full stomach and Stràcair sitting under his chair gnawing on a huge bone, he mused that perhaps this might not be a bad way to see the world. He glanced around the inn taking in the other patrons whom were sheltering that evening.<br><br> |
+ | As his blue eyes wandered from face to face they were met by pair of breathtaking golden brown eyes that seemed to have captured the color of a fine aged whisky. The eyes looked at him from beneath a mane of fiery auburn hair which swirled into long curls down to her slender waist. She picked up her cup from her own table and moved toward him, gliding silently in the raucous atmosphere of the bar. She motioned to the empty bench opposite him next to the fire and Liath nodded, sipping his ale as she sat. "My name is Tatyana Firemane" she said in a heavily accented voice.<br><br> | ||
<span style="horizontal-align:center; vertical-align: super; font-size: 75%;">[[file:Liath_Liath_VagabondKnights.jpg|700px|left]][5]</span><br><br><br><br><br>They were vagabonds, wanderers without a home in years of conquests and dark days; they were nothing more than a group trying to slake their wanderlust. All of them had come from respectfully different backgrounds, yet one evening they were drawn together in a seaside inn and it was there that they began their journey through Europe as traveling performers. More widely accepted than gypsies, and less threatening than most strangers; they entertain, they stay to themselves, they don’t raise suspicion in a world of distrust.<br><br> | <span style="horizontal-align:center; vertical-align: super; font-size: 75%;">[[file:Liath_Liath_VagabondKnights.jpg|700px|left]][5]</span><br><br><br><br><br>They were vagabonds, wanderers without a home in years of conquests and dark days; they were nothing more than a group trying to slake their wanderlust. All of them had come from respectfully different backgrounds, yet one evening they were drawn together in a seaside inn and it was there that they began their journey through Europe as traveling performers. More widely accepted than gypsies, and less threatening than most strangers; they entertain, they stay to themselves, they don’t raise suspicion in a world of distrust.<br><br> | ||
This group could have been considered the world’s first superheroes; most, though not all had their own uncanny abilities, which in a world of superstition and tradition could get them killed. In their wandering they were able to help extinguish some of the danger, they had not sought it out but they could not turn their head away when it was found in the villages and sleepy towns that they traversed through. They were their own brand of wandering Knight, not in it for the glory or the fame, but all the same they had protected many with their simple acts while still trying to keep themselves safe. Strangers did not get to know what they could do, but as a band of vagabonds they built their own support for each other, just trying to move through life and stay out of the way of the holy wars of which started the same year as their journey began; 1095, five years before the end of the 11th century.<br><br> | This group could have been considered the world’s first superheroes; most, though not all had their own uncanny abilities, which in a world of superstition and tradition could get them killed. In their wandering they were able to help extinguish some of the danger, they had not sought it out but they could not turn their head away when it was found in the villages and sleepy towns that they traversed through. They were their own brand of wandering Knight, not in it for the glory or the fame, but all the same they had protected many with their simple acts while still trying to keep themselves safe. Strangers did not get to know what they could do, but as a band of vagabonds they built their own support for each other, just trying to move through life and stay out of the way of the holy wars of which started the same year as their journey began; 1095, five years before the end of the 11th century.<br><br> |
Revision as of 08:25, 25 December 2013
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