06-12-2008, 03:26 PM
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OOC: What should they do next? And sorry for the wait =(
Lubomir knew about fighting decently. One-Eye had been strict on it, though he was never expected to follow any formal code, as he never purposefully decided to be a warrior. And in a way yes, he could understand where Skoll was coming from and what his words meant. He certainly knew that Skoll would add no hyperbole to his tale, nor would he needlessly portray modesty when it was uncalled for. It was quite obvious that Skoll's experience had been very personal, so Lubomir decided to acknowledge it as such. 'I understand. My outburst was probably uncalled for, but I did not know how much a traveller's life called you.' He did not much like travelling. Well, he did, but not like Skoll seemed to. In all fairness, Lubomir was glad he'd settled here.
This following section promised more gore and needless violence. In a sense, the thought of Skoll taking care of another warmed Lubomir's heart. He himself had never taken on an apprentice as such and he knew it had been a bit strange even to his former pack. An untimely death would mean that all the information, history and knowledge that Lubomir had stored over the years would be lost. An apprentice would be like a chamber for safekeeping all that. And yet he'd stubbornly refused all puppies, on the pretext that they were not conscientious enough. Truly though, being Bard gave him a purpose. It meant he could do something with his life. He decided to share this with Skoll. 'My pack tried to make me take on an apprentice but I refused. So I salute your courage and wisdom. Had I died, in a fight back home or during my crossing, all that I have gathered these past few years would be wasted, for no one would know of our fate. Now, though, if something does happen, at least here, in Shadowed Sun, I know you know my tale.' He gave Skoll a weak smile. There was an underlying bitterness there, where Lubomir tried to explain to himself his selfish attitude.
Humans. Lubomir had mixed feelings about them. Humans had brought a wealth of learning and many great things. But they had also brought war and weapons and his features clouded as he listened to Skoll's tale of this gruesome conflict. Gunpowder he'd heard about. He'd seen blades of various shapes and sizes. The wolves in the cities had them, hidden under their clothes, in the folds or in bags. For protection. They had become like humans, no longer relying on claws and teeth to fight. They used these vicious killing things. Lubomir was abhorred. He hated violence but more so when it was like this. Mindless. And involving killing devices. But to hear of so much bloodshed only to turn on to the path of what Lubomir saw as folly... that was certainly something he needed to probe further. 'But surely after so much time you'd given up on it? Why would you go back to it? What exactly did that war do to you?' He wasn't sure if Skoll used weapons or not. So bringing that up now would be both stupid and undiplomatic.
His eyes widened. So much grief. Lubomir had truly thought HawkWind to be a legend, local myth to tell pups over the fire. But no... and to hear of VoidFane and the harm done, but most of all to learn of how Skoll had repaid the debt, that made his eyes water. He felt shamed somehow. And humbled. This wolf before him had withstood more than great One-Eye and he had become a better man for it. He had dignity, integrity, honour and he offered friendship and protection. Lubomir's journey was mere child's play. 'No, Skoll, you have bested me. I may have been a story teller, but I lived a sheltered live. I did not better myself. Not the way you did.' Lubomir couldn't look him in the eye. He was too ashamed. 'Your story has given me much to think about. And it has certainly filled this place with demons for me. What would you have us do now... my friend?' It was the first time he'd called anyone that. And hopefully not the last.
708 words
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Lubomir knew about fighting decently. One-Eye had been strict on it, though he was never expected to follow any formal code, as he never purposefully decided to be a warrior. And in a way yes, he could understand where Skoll was coming from and what his words meant. He certainly knew that Skoll would add no hyperbole to his tale, nor would he needlessly portray modesty when it was uncalled for. It was quite obvious that Skoll's experience had been very personal, so Lubomir decided to acknowledge it as such. 'I understand. My outburst was probably uncalled for, but I did not know how much a traveller's life called you.' He did not much like travelling. Well, he did, but not like Skoll seemed to. In all fairness, Lubomir was glad he'd settled here.
This following section promised more gore and needless violence. In a sense, the thought of Skoll taking care of another warmed Lubomir's heart. He himself had never taken on an apprentice as such and he knew it had been a bit strange even to his former pack. An untimely death would mean that all the information, history and knowledge that Lubomir had stored over the years would be lost. An apprentice would be like a chamber for safekeeping all that. And yet he'd stubbornly refused all puppies, on the pretext that they were not conscientious enough. Truly though, being Bard gave him a purpose. It meant he could do something with his life. He decided to share this with Skoll. 'My pack tried to make me take on an apprentice but I refused. So I salute your courage and wisdom. Had I died, in a fight back home or during my crossing, all that I have gathered these past few years would be wasted, for no one would know of our fate. Now, though, if something does happen, at least here, in Shadowed Sun, I know you know my tale.' He gave Skoll a weak smile. There was an underlying bitterness there, where Lubomir tried to explain to himself his selfish attitude.
Humans. Lubomir had mixed feelings about them. Humans had brought a wealth of learning and many great things. But they had also brought war and weapons and his features clouded as he listened to Skoll's tale of this gruesome conflict. Gunpowder he'd heard about. He'd seen blades of various shapes and sizes. The wolves in the cities had them, hidden under their clothes, in the folds or in bags. For protection. They had become like humans, no longer relying on claws and teeth to fight. They used these vicious killing things. Lubomir was abhorred. He hated violence but more so when it was like this. Mindless. And involving killing devices. But to hear of so much bloodshed only to turn on to the path of what Lubomir saw as folly... that was certainly something he needed to probe further. 'But surely after so much time you'd given up on it? Why would you go back to it? What exactly did that war do to you?' He wasn't sure if Skoll used weapons or not. So bringing that up now would be both stupid and undiplomatic.
His eyes widened. So much grief. Lubomir had truly thought HawkWind to be a legend, local myth to tell pups over the fire. But no... and to hear of VoidFane and the harm done, but most of all to learn of how Skoll had repaid the debt, that made his eyes water. He felt shamed somehow. And humbled. This wolf before him had withstood more than great One-Eye and he had become a better man for it. He had dignity, integrity, honour and he offered friendship and protection. Lubomir's journey was mere child's play. 'No, Skoll, you have bested me. I may have been a story teller, but I lived a sheltered live. I did not better myself. Not the way you did.' Lubomir couldn't look him in the eye. He was too ashamed. 'Your story has given me much to think about. And it has certainly filled this place with demons for me. What would you have us do now... my friend?' It was the first time he'd called anyone that. And hopefully not the last.
708 words