I do not know what my name is. I question my identity. I disavowed the ways. I am free. I favour it. I cherish it. But… at what cost… I do not know.
There they were. The most marvelous snow-bound paradise. The most bizarre Fellowship.
One con-artist Halfling. One honourable Dwarf. One observant Human. One… Hunter.
The Dwarf states in a very well-manner tone, "So that be it then?". There is complete silence and serenity. Marshmallow snow of purity contradicts the grimness of the moment as it falls layer by layer. Everyone looks at each other as if waiting for something to happen. The Hunters sockets speak for itself though.
It was ready to move forward.
“That should be it. The Mark is done. I have nothing else to say for the Elders know how to make it more profound. I am but a Hunter after all”, the Hunter speaks then another composure of the previous atmosphere settles in. The only voice that echoes about is the rustle of cold bitter-sweet as it embraces the crowd that shuffles in the snow.
It was ready to move forward.
A final convey of the Hunters eyes intertwine with everyone… the hue did not glitter, did not flair, did not sparkle. Did not feel. The eyes convey the shadow of the greatest truth known to very few. An aura of a concept begone and belittle worth that of academia tolerant to that of a maniac.
“Hunt well.”, the Hunter exclaims facing them all, lateral arms extend outwards, before an instant shift. A flourish of the Hunters white cloak breaks the chain of contact and perception of the crowd to delay their reaction.
It was ready to move forward.
“Wait -”, the Human attempting to grasp the situation shifts a turn as the Hunter leaps off the ledge gracefully. Like a black bird, it wolves straight down with no hesitation. Arms extend out making use of the large white cloak to control the descent. Then, the voyage changes to a shift of the Hunters arms in an air-like plank to accelerate rapidly. The velocity is immeasurable as gravity pulls the Hunter. Plunging down, the air drafts sharply, almost like a guillotine executing its victim repeatedly. Those blank eyes seek the goal, the purpose, the end of the Hunt as the Creed states it.
“Truth”, she murmurs softly in her own tongue as the jade eyes flair then a crash unto her new residence of respite.
She was done. She has finished her Hunt.
“No, you are not. The Trial is over, my new -----------------. You have just begun.”