A Shield, an Axe and a Smile.

[TwistyShape]

Step after heavy step, the road stretches on into the horizon. Looking back, it's the same. Trees flanked the path, a suitable cover hiding critters and creatures alike, as the lumbering man hums himself a jaunty tavern tune. Filling the woodland silence with his own voice brings comfort and warmth, using the alcohol-fuelled memories from nights back, to help ease the next few hundred steps or so. With well-worn boots, a patched and mended surcoat hiding glimpses of dull chain mail, and a thick cotton cloak, this knight of the road is used to his own thoughts. That little voice bumbling around his head is often the best company to hand.

Every step is punctuated with one rattling clunk after the other. The warrior's tarnished shield thuds against his back, a loop of leather holding an axe at his hip. The trusted tools of his trade always within reach due to the potential threats that lurk at the next fallen log or bridge crossing. Honestly? The man wouldn't even mind the sudden intrusion, he'd be glad for the conversation, if anything. But why risk the chance of losing more than a few petty coins by being lazy? After all, “proper preparation prevents piss poor performance”, or so he was always told in his younger years. As the day's sun reached its apex, the morning slipped away. Pausing for a moment, the oversized human took stock, looking where he'd come from to where he was going.

What was it he was seeking? He wasn't entirely sure. He was hoping it would be where he was going since he hadn't found it from where he'd come from. His attention was drawn to the forest wall by a cracking branch. Rustling bushes and skittering sounds caused his brow to furrow. “Simple frolicking forest inhabitants”, the man's inner voice said, chasing away the sniff of paranoia that had attempted to invade. His broad shoulders gave a heavy shrug as a calloused paw raised to ruffle the matted brown locks of hair. He turned and resumed his laden steps with the rhythmic clanging of his shoulder-hung equipment. “Bes'nt stop f'to long, rather not 'ave t'sleep among stars”, he thought, that seed of paranoia germinating as much as he hated to admit it.

 

[TwistyShape]

Those next hundred or so steps had easily turned into two, and then three. During which the mans mind had drifting to a favoured past time, food. This was mostly due to the grumbling of his stomach, doubled with the fact he'd already chewed his way through the last of the boot-like jerky he'd made for the trek. Heavy was the sigh that huffed from his lungs as he wished for so many dishes, be it roasted pork crackling over a open fire, or perhaps a flank of beef gracing a skillet for a brief hello, still red and bloody. This sigh was only doubled down on when his footsteps came to a swift halt, for all the determination and weight that was carried with each step, there was one thing that'd falter his gate immediately. Heights.

The path he'd followed gave way to a sheer drop of a canyon, like the gods themselves had sundered the world in half. An over exaggeration, perhaps, but to our giant of a man, it may of well been the case. Lucky for him, there was a bridge. A rickety, rope-hung bridge swaying this way and that in the wind, the sight of which caused the lump in his throat to grow even larger. With white knuckles gripping one side of the bridge an anxious step was taken, the creak given by the plank caused the mans heart to sink. Breath caught into his throat but it was to late now, his legs had begun and, while his brain lagged behind, it was best not to stop them else he'd find himself trapped half-between. What was actually a few minutes crossing felt like a life time before reaching the opposite side where the held breath was finally released, a calloused paw was placed on his chest in an attempt to stop his heart from thumping out of his chest.

The upside to all this, however, was that food no longer found itself on his mind. Instead, putting the entire anxiety fuelled moment behind him by several hundred steps more took priority and thus, he continued. A few more hours of daylight still remained, and he planned to make the most of it. By the time the stars were high, a fire crackled, silhouetting our oversized man against the rest of the forest. He was lucky enough to have snagged what was once a small, fluffy bunny, otherwise know as dinner. Using the knife tucked into his belt, he'd skinned gutted and cooked the critter into an appetizing meal. Seasoned carefully and cooked until the juices ran clear, he chewed with a bold smile across his face. Toying with the delicate charm of Helm that was wrapped around his gauntlet, he nodded softly to himself and began the duties that'd been recited to him time and time again. "Care for your weapons, so they may perform their duties when called upon", echoed in his mind as he began tending to his equipment until his lids grew heavy and his bedroll took the form of a comforting friend.