[P] In the hope that we hit the ground upright
Diarmid!
#1
OOC: Yaay <3 Optime! With a bag of herbs 'n' stuff, including some freshly picked Virgin's Bower which could like.. potentially kill them lol. Just in case we need drama ;)
tl;dr Asch fell down a hill.

IC:
Asch perched on the edge of a large, flat rock which hid his earthy fur fairly well. He had still neglected to tidy up either his chocolatey mane or his paler fur; his whiskers had grown to the point where he really did look bearded, and the deep brown tangles which framed his face were only becoming more unruly as the days passed. He hadn't allowed anyone else to beat his wild appearance into submission, either. The only feature of Ascher's which didn't look slightly ragged were the newly polished beads he always wore and his soulful blue eyes. His eyes had regained their clarity and wisdom within a week of returning to Vinatta, and he had always treasured the small carvings bestowed upon him by various Council and family members.

Around the rock grew Virgin's Bower in thick clumps which had already seen some thinning out by the Viking. Ascher's hands were always careful, but he had been doubly so with this particular species. Its side effects if ingested could be as aggressive as its growth, and Ascher didn't much fancy returning home in an even worse state. The leaves could be useful for compresses, though, so a handful of them had been placed into the Stormbringer's bag, with the utmost care taken to ensure that they were separate from his other herb supplies.

The bank which the rock rested upon was steep and ragged with long grass, before it reached a thread of water which might swell to a river tributary given more rainfall. Ascher gazed down the slope for at least a minute before rising from his stony seat and beginning to pick his way down towards the water. His torso was angled backwards to counteract his own momentum, but he had a snowball in hell's chance of not stumbling at least once. With that knowledge, moving down the slope seemed easier – and that was when Ascher began to focus on the water rather than his footing.

The voracious Virgin's Bower didn't announce its latch on the male's ankle until it was too late. Ascher found himself wobbling for a moment before his foot wriggled free – and then it was impossible to fight gravity. Luckily the vines were mostly flower heads rather than thorns, and the long-haired figure found himself rolling over a comparatively soft bed of grass.

Groaning in exasperation, the scholar peeked through the green blades to try and find the bag which had gone flying a moment after he had. Rubbing his elbow, he rolled onto his belly and to his feet, grumbling vaguely about the forces which he was normally grateful for. “Oh, this is just..” The words faded into a string of displeased noises as Asch noticed the green leaves, so painstakingly collected, which were now being teased by the breeze, threatening to dance away from him.

[400+]
[html]<center><div class="aschfailsig032018">Ascher<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YFhNC8a.png" width="65px">Stormbringer</div><br><div class="aschfailsig032018-bottom">It's always darkest before the dawn</div></center>
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#2
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More often than not, Diarmid found himself wandering away from Bathurst simply for the fact that he didn't enjoy most of the company he found in the old house there. They weren't his tribe, nor his family and while the Gael stayed, he wasn't necessarily happy about it. His reason for remaining was rather more complicated, but his fate was wrapped tightly around Tierney's and he'd spent so long trying to find her that it now remained essential that he stay with her. At least in his mind -- Tierney remained self-contained and single minded as she always had. Either way, the rust drenched wolf-dog had spent a lot of time simply walking through this land he'd found himself in. While it was no Silver Valley, there was some beauty to be found and Diarmid began to find at least some enjoyment from excursions around the area, finding interesting crooks and crannies that he might have quietly shown his brother and sister had he been at home. The male was never one for excitement, but he could appreciate these places now that he'd had an opportunity to explore them.


He was approaching a particularly rough and rugged looking stretch of landscape, characterised with steep hills, long grass and loose stones underpaw when keen ears picked up a commotion close by. The Gaelic male paused, one ear cocked atop unruly red curls while dark nose leather twitched to try and determine the situation. Diarmid had come from around the corner of the steep slope and hadn't yet spotted the tawny male, but he caught scent of him and stepped forward quickly. With the stream of water to his right, Diar rounded the bend of a particularly steep slope to find a heap of chocolate limbs and he paused, taking the scene in and within moments he'd stepped forward with a hand stretched down to try to help the male to his paws once more. "A'righ' boyo, up ya come. Are y'urt?" Rich and highly accented tones were often hard to discern by those unused to such vocals, but Diar refused to temper his accent for those here. Hoping he wasn't pulling the male up too quickly if he had injured himself, Diarmid kept the support there if the other needed it to stand once more.

ooc is fun!

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#3
Ascher's breath was temporarily removed from him in a whoosh accompanied by a hushed growl. Between the sun and the rippling light on the water, he was half blind as he groped around for something to gain purchase on. As far as the scholar could tell, he was uninjured, save for some bruises which would reveal themselves later. The man lifted his arm, running a slightly shaky hand through his unruly coffee-brown locks and lamenting his own lack of awareness.

He hadn't caught the other male's scent as he'd tumbled into a heap of clay-coloured limbs – in fact, the first he knew of the stranger was when a hand blocked out the dazzling sun as it reached towards him. Ascher blinked dumbly a few times, but it took the loner's words to make him grasp the proffered hand and collect his legs under his slim body. Strictly speaking, Ascher hadn't fully understood those words, but he could work out what he was supposed to do.

Asch released the hand as soon as he was certain that he could stand unaided. His face retained a faint scowl as he brushed himself off. “Thank you,” he murmured, flexing his fingers experimentally. “I'm fine – just a bruised ego.” The scowl melted away and curious blue eyes took in the red curls and harmonious sea green irises; Asch had a measure of the man's appearance well before he had puzzled out the heavily accented words. When Asch did work them out, he felt considerably warmer - these were similar to the tones Bran spoke in. “You're a long way from Ireland,” he added, trying to offer a smile.
[html]<center><div class="aschfailsig032018">Ascher<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YFhNC8a.png" width="65px">Stormbringer</div><br><div class="aschfailsig032018-bottom">It's always darkest before the dawn</div></center>
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#4
[html]

Dazzled and dazed, it took the younger and smaller male a few moments to regain his bearings but after a few short moments, he took the proffered hand and Diarmid hauled the boy upright. The warrior did feel bad that the other had taken such a tumble and wondered just how it had happened, but one look at the sharp slope above them and the tangled weeds that set out to ensnare unsuspecting paws and it wasn't hard to figure out. Rust ears flickered easily to catch the others words and the Gael found himself nodding briefly in agreement. "Ah i' 'appens to da bes' o'us, dun you worry none." He tried to reassure, thinking of the many times he'd skidded and slipped down some of the steeper slopes of the Silver Valley. A few times his brother or father had picked him up again, but more often he was able to recover before he truly hit the ground.


The statement that came next from the fallen male was a surprise, having detected not a hint of accent in his own words and Diarmid's surprise was easy to spot on his face. "You know Ireland?" He asked, clearly a little uncertain but somewhat excited at the same time. "Wha's your name, kiddo? I migh' know your Papa." It was a reasonable assumption for the Gaelic male -- he knew many people in Ireland and had travelled over most areas in his search for Tierney and her sisters back in the early days before he realised they'd left overseas.

ooc is fun!

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#5
Ascher's smile managed to surface fully. His inner translation of the thick accent the Irishman spoke with was still half a second behind the words actually emerging, but he had an advantage which the average Nova Scotia dwelling Luperci might not: “I have Irish cousins.” It was no secret that while Asch had had his share of disagreements with his more fiery cousins, but Bran and Niernan were still counted amongst his favourite people; when he spoke of them, he spoke with pride.

A light chuckle left the Eljun as he scratched his chin with the back of one hand. “Stormbringer,” he announced readily. Ascher might not have been the most stunning example of the Stormbringer line but his tone retained its pride. “Ascher Stormbringer.” The copper wolf finished his introduction with a bob of his thickly furred head. He dropped his hand to his side before offering it, only slightly wary of getting his fingers crushed if the red-haired man took him up on the shake. He was older, but looked no more worn than Ascher himself, newly returned from a hazy month of wanderings. Red and off-white fur wrapped around a far more impressive musculature than his own – this male had the rugged thing down to a tee. "You're -" Bloody impressive. "- well travelled, then?"
[html]<center><div class="aschfailsig032018">Ascher<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YFhNC8a.png" width="65px">Stormbringer</div><br><div class="aschfailsig032018-bottom">It's always darkest before the dawn</div></center>
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#6
[html]

A smile, pushing to the surface but appearing genuine upon the males features reassured the Gael that he was okay after his tumble and he allowed usually stoic lips to curl slightly in return. The copper wolf had a quick answer to his question and Diarmid hid the brief flash of disappointment well; he offered an easy nod to show his understanding of the situation. It was clear the male was proud of his cousins though and Diarmid felt as though he'd sussed out a portion of this males worth -- he was family orientated, which was always a good trait in the irishman's opinion. He offered his name then, a strong name it seemed and Diar's brief smile turned into a brighter expression. "Diarmid Ahearne." He offered in response, feeling it only polite to name himself in the wake of the others introduction.


For a brief moment, Diar felt analysed as the other truly took him in and he wondered if he was found wanting. Instead, a question came and Diarmid snorted in wry amusement. "Y'could say dat. Ah been away from home for a'year now, trackin' down a runaway." Tierney was more than just a runaway, she was his betrothed and daughter of the bear tribes leader -- no, she wasn't. It was difficult to truly assimilate this new information into his thoughts on the girl, who had been Ferris' daughter and now wasn't. "'Bout you? Have ya travelled some?" He asked in return, hoping that perhaps they had some similar stories to share. Not usually a chatty wolf, Diarmid felt himself enjoying this strain of conversation, at least for the moment.

ooc is fun!

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#7
The Irishman nodded his comprehension as Asch spoke. The faint smile from the other gave the Stormbringer greater confidence, lending a brightness to his words which certainly hadn't been present when he'd tripped on the grassy bank. In one hand there were still some leaves, clutched loosely and fluttering gently against Ascher's hand in the hearty breeze. Ascher would have to chase up the rest when he found a natural gap in the conversation.

“Pleasure to meet you, Diarmid,” Ascher responded with a bob of his shaggy head. He was unharmed but still a little leery of the ground beneath his feet, which he cast a quick glance to, as if making sure that it wasn't plotting further mischief against him. “That must be quite some runaway,” the copper scholar murmured, almost in admiration for whatever brains or beauty had kept the Diarmid on the road for this long.

Ascher thought of his own travels, from the Soljborg to Nova Scotia and back, and his more recent travels which he still felt painfully guilty about. “Yes, some,” Asch replied with a forced smile. “I'm staying closer to home these days. Storms also hate me, they seem to get in the way whenever I do go further afield.” Occasionally Ascher wondered if his less than stellar luck with storms meant that Thor had some bias against him, but he had never had staunch enough belief in the Gods for it to really worry him.

“Did you find your runaway or are you still searching?” Asch wondered aloud. He had found neither Saul or the elder Stormbringer's golden-haired daughter, and wondered if Diarmid would be more successful.
[html]<center><div class="aschfailsig032018">Ascher<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YFhNC8a.png" width="65px">Stormbringer</div><br><div class="aschfailsig032018-bottom">It's always darkest before the dawn</div></center>
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#8
[html]

A normally taciturn creature, Diarmid was usually only ever content with his weapons and often went out of his way to avoid frivolous conversation. His siblings knew not to bother him with pleasantries unless they had something to report or a favour to ask of him. However reclusive the male might usually have been, the male had learned fairly quickly the value of listening to others and engaging in 'unnecessary' conversation. As Ascher gave his pleasantries, Diarmid dipped his head in response. "An' you, kid." He offered in return, dark rust ears flickering forward to catch the next words given. Diar couldn't contain the sheer snort of amusement; you could say that. "Yo're damn righ'." The Gael murmured, still chortling somewhat from the males comment. In honesty, Diarmid had lost his reasoning for chasing Tierney across the Northern Hemisphere -- he could no longer truly remember how it had been agreed.


The other answered his inquiry about travel, though it seemed he didn't have much luck. "Yo'r name's Stormbrin'er, righ'? Seems to me tha' yo're jus' doing yo'r job." Diarmid offered with a brief snort of breath. The next question made the Gael's brow furrow slightly, wondering where the other was going in this line of thinking but eventually nodded his head. "Yeah, caugh' up wit'her few week ago. She weren' too happy 'bout it." The male revealed, the slightly darkened expression showing his inner turmoil over the whole affair.

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#9
Ascher had been conceived in rebellion, albeit one embarked upon for all the right reasons. His very existence was a taboo, but Ascher himself tended to stick to the rules: he wasn't the sort to run with sharp objects (even carrying a spear while hunting was awkward for him) or to not play nice with others. He had always strived for a pleasant and simple life – something which it seemed few of his forebears and relatives had ever achieved – and the bedrock of that, as far as the scholarly man was concerned, was observing social niceties. Ascher felt confident in rules, even unspoken ones, and he found playing along with the expected protocols gave him guidelines to work from.

Diarmid seemed to understand these silent rules of conversation as well, and Ascher was grateful for that. He hadn't worked his conversational muscles with someone he knew nothing of in some time, and it seemed to be going smoothly enough. The redhead didn't babble or pose many questions – perhaps he was generally a quiet type, like Ascher, but with more of the strong in strong-and-silent going for him. At the proclamation that Asch was damn righ' about the runaway Diarmid had pursued across an entire year, the Stormbringer man smiled. He was liking this story, even without knowing the details. “I can think of two things a man would go that far for: love or vengeance.” Ascher's chocolate-tipped ears splayed for a moment before pitching forward. He was intrigued without a doubt, but he stopped short of asking an outright question of the Irishman.

It was Ascher's turn to snort in amusement, the edges of his blue eyes crinkling. “I suppose that's true. I never thought I was much of a Stormbringer to be honest, but if you take it literally then I'm an excellent example.” Ascher was practically beaming at this revelation which had somehow evaded him until it had been pointed out by a total stranger. He regained most of his composure in time to be told that Diarmid's search had been successful. For a moment his expression was relief – at least the missing didn't always stay missing – but his brows soon pushed together. “Hmmm.. I hadn't really considered that sometimes people don't want to be found.” This was a worrying thought for Ascher, who had nearly given up so much to find his brother and niece. A shadow passed over his features and he dropped his muzzle to gaze at the ground. Only then did he remember his gathered herbs which were now strewn across the bank. Asch gave a wave of his hand. “I was collecting some herbs before my feet abandoned me. Would you mind..?” Asch held up the plant matter he had managed to keep hold of before darting towards one of the strays.

[474]
[html]<center><div class="aschfailsig032018">Ascher<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YFhNC8a.png" width="65px">Stormbringer</div><br><div class="aschfailsig032018-bottom">It's always darkest before the dawn</div></center>
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#10
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Ascher's response was surprising and Diarmid's brows rose somewhat as he considered this. Did he love Tierney? Or had he simply known for a long time that she would be his one day and this was nothing more than duty to his Tribe, to his leader and to his betrothal? Was he simply possessive, chasing what he believed as his halfway across the Northern hemisphere? It was an interesting conundrum and Diarmid felt brows pull down once more in consternation. "Y'forgo' duty, boy." The Gael offered, though it was a clear dodge of the subject and Diar offered it without shame. He didn't owe the other an explanation of his life and while the comment had clearly been prying, he hadn't actually ask the question and left it to Diar to comment as he saw fit. Seeing fit to leave it at that, dark green eyes lifted to the others face, crinkling slightly in amusement at the warrior's observation. He was usually considered to be a straightforward being and taking the others family name literally had given the other something to think about. Perhaps Morrigan had orchestrated it for the copper-hued male, a true storm bringer.


Diar offered only a brief chuckle in return, agreeing with the boy that he was indeed a good example. His brief change of expression and allusion to his meeting with Tierney not going quite as expected seemed to give the other something to consider before he commented and the Gael wondered if he had someone he'd lost recently. "Yo'righ', some people jus' don' wanna come home." He offered, though took the sting from his words with a brief smile. It was then the other remembered the leaves in his hands and the question hovered in the air between them. Diar was no herb collector, knew very little about the healing arts but the least he could do was help the kid out. "Sure, kid." He agreed, taking note of how the plants looked before moving up the hill slightly to gather some of the fallen leaves Ascher had dropped on his tumble down.

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#11
Ascher was a mild sort in every aspect except his curiousity, which blazed easily in his mid-blue eyes. Diarmid's story had captured the Eljun's imagination, but he was observant enough to note the shift which meant the end of his trying to peek into the other man's life. Almost ashamed – but not quite – Ascher dropped his gaze. Some things were better left to the imagination. He gave a nod of agreement twinned with a meek smile to Diarmid's statement about duty, being no stranger to it himself.

Asch pursed his lips, sinking deep into thought before nodding and sweeping the hair from his eyes. He cracked a hollow smile which was filled in by a more genuine one when the elder male agreed to help. Ascher nodded his thanks, his ears splaying again, before chasing up a cluster of leaves and flowerheads with cautious steps. He paused in mid-step, smacking his forehead with the heel of one hand. “Do be careful not to ingest any,” he called to the hardier hybrid. “Sorry, I should've mentioned that!” Ascher hid his mortified expression with a tilt of his head which allowed his unruly hair to shield his eyes.

Once Ascher had darted and scrambled after all the leaves he could, he straightened and padded – carefully – towards the warrior-like man. “By all means keep some, if you'd like,” the Eljun offered. Diarmid had provoked some uncomfortable niggles and deep thought in Ascher – something he hadn't afforded himself since returning home. Even if he didn't know it, the loner had helped him get a headstart on working through his own loss.
[html]<center><div class="aschfailsig032018">Ascher<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YFhNC8a.png" width="65px">Stormbringer</div><br><div class="aschfailsig032018-bottom">It's always darkest before the dawn</div></center>
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#12
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Dark red toes dug into the side of the hill as the male stepped up slightly to take the higher ground. He was used to the dips of the Silver Valley and this steep hill didn't pose much of a problem for the male, but as he collected the leaves and saw how they grew, he could perhaps see how Ascher had taken such a spectacular swan dive down the slope. As he reached over a rock to grab at one of the last loose leaves out here, the copper males words came up to him and the warrior snorted briefly. He'd had enough experimentation in his youth to know not to ingest strange plants, but curiosity got the better of him. "Wha'll it do ta me?" He called down, a brief moment of jest upon his face as he carefully returned to the male's side, a handful of leaves out-thrust for the other to take. It made sense to Diar that the other would knew about herbs and plants -- he seemed the academic type at least.


Ascher's offer fell slightly on a confused brow and Diarmid frowned briefly. "Ah don' know much 'bout plan's. Wha' is it?" He asked, briefly wondering if Nimh or Maire might have been interested in herbalism, because Morrigan knew Tierney had no interest in it. "I'sat wha' you do, for yo're pack? Yo're herbalist? A healer?" He asked, trying to guess what the other did. Then again, Diarmid didn't know the male too well after just one conversation -- perhaps the plants were to be used for poison or other such darker arts.

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#13
Ascher looked up when the Irishman called down to him from a higher spot on the incline. For a moment he simply gave a grim smile as his hair blew about his face in some sort of brown tornado. The wind was picking up, and unless Ascher wanted to truly bring a storm he thought it would be wise if he headed home soon. Still, Diarmid had asked a question of him and he was never one to halt learning when it could be advanced. “Internal bleeding, if you ate enough of it,” was the response.

Ascher took the leaves held out to him with an appreciative dip of his head. His offer seemed to cause some confusion, which he supposed wasn't unusual. Diarmid had already implied that his duties were connected to things such as fetching back runaways, and he didn't seem like the sort to hunch over books for an extended period. “I use it for skin complaints, though I've heard that some have had success using very small amounts to treat headaches. I'm not much of a risk-taker,” Ascher confided, his tone still contemplative. “Perhaps it would be wiser to stay away from the dangerous stuff if you're new to herbs – yes, my rank is Eljun, a scholar and a healer of Vinatta.” He smiled, wiped his hands off on his torn shorts and offered it to Diarmid to shake.
[html]<center><div class="aschfailsig032018">Ascher<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YFhNC8a.png" width="65px">Stormbringer</div><br><div class="aschfailsig032018-bottom">It's always darkest before the dawn</div></center>
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#14
[html]

The copper males response was frank and to the point -- too much of this little leaf and it would kill a wolf. For a moment, Diarmid's previous thoughts resurfaced; was Ascher just a healer or was there something a little more sinister to his gathering? Of course, the Gael cared very little as to what the other did with his time and life, but there was always a curiosity in him about how others filled their days even if he didn't indulge it very often. "A killer den." Diar summarised with a twitch of his lips that hinted once again at humour. His next questions opened a vein of conversation that the Gael hadn't expected to be led down, but listened as Ascher explained that it had multiple uses when not heavily ingested. His insistence that he wasn't a risk taker made sense to Diar and he nodded easily in response. "Ah wouldn' be takin' risks wi'dis t'ing eider." The male responded with a wary look towards the leaves in question.


His probing as to the others job yielded an easy response and while the title was unfamiliar, the male clarified what that meant in his pack. Vinátta -- he'd heard of that pack before and thought of the dark female with which he'd sparred a while ago. So they weren't all arrogant children then. Diar took the hand offered and shook it easily. "Ah'll bear dat in mind. I heard o'Vina'a afore -- is i' far from here?" He questioned, thinking that it had started to get windy and it was probably time to start heading back in a northerly direction.

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<a href="#" target="_blank" title="Diarmid speaks fluent Gaelic and when speaking English, Diarmid has a heavy irish accent. Diarmid is incapable of speaking in English when truly mad or upset." class="foreign-language"></a>
<a href="#" class="character-typical-location" title="Diarmid is currently only found in the Northern Tides section of 'Souls."></a>
<a href="#" class="skill-fighting" title="Diarmid is a skilled fighter, specialising in sword, hand-to-hand and spear combat. He also is also moderately skilled in archery."></a>
<a href="#" class="skill-hunting" title="Diarmid is a skilled hunter and prefers to hunt in LUPUS or SECUI form, without the aid of weapons. He is also an aspiring fisherman, but prefers hooks and nets to spears or hand-fishing."></a>
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#15
OOC: Fin!

IC:
Ascher nodded sagely at Diarmid's summary of the leaf's devastating effects. Pure as his intentions tended to be, it had occurred to the healer that the leaf could be used for nefarious purposes, but he had no inkling that the Irishman might have suspected him of such purposes. It was naïve of him, to be sure, but that was Ascher – good-hearted and still imbued with some innocence, in spite of all he'd seen. Perhaps that was the crux of it – he had witnessed many things, but hadn't actually done many of them. Like a fly on the wall, he was an observer of others.

“No, not too far,” he replied with a half smile touching his lips as he shook the red-head's hand. Asch would dearly love to get Diarmid and Bran in the same space, if only to see if they'd get on as well as the Eljun thought they might. The copper figure pivoted neatly to throw out an arm in the direction of his home, although it was obscured by the ragged hills. “It's on the coast – if you reach the Grand Lake, you're not far away.”

The wind was beginning to lash at the long vegetation, and Asch ducked his head. “I should get back. Do give me a howl if you happen to pass by Vinatta – I would love you to meet my Irish cousins. Thank you again for helping.” Ascher flashed a grin before turning and beginning to head home, glad of his conversation with the Irish loner; it had given him some things to think about.
[html]<center><div class="aschfailsig032018">Ascher<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YFhNC8a.png" width="65px">Stormbringer</div><br><div class="aschfailsig032018-bottom">It's always darkest before the dawn</div></center>
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#16
[html]

Having come to an amiable end to their encounter, Diarmid was more than happy to shake the males hand and listen as he gestured to where his home lay. He'd skirted around the territory twice now, though before he suspected he'd been north of the pack boundaries when he'd seen Farina. The mention of Irish cousins perked Diarmid's interest and a small smile tugged his lips -- perhaps he would meet them one day. "Ah'll stop by soon." The Gael promised, nodding his head brusquely in response. The copper male took his leave and Diarmid was for a moment at a loss as to which direction to head. He could go back towards Bathurst, or continue on his exploration. With a glance back towards the north, Diar made his mind up and stepped onwards in a southerly direction, wondering what else there was around here that he could find.

<3

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<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Honey" target="_blank" title="PLAYER WIKI" class="player-wiki"></a>
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<a href="#" class="optime-preference" title="OPTIME unless otherwise stated."></a>
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