Confluence of Spheres
Defeats all of his enemies single-handedly.
At dusk, a weathered half-elf strides surely across undergrowth and tangled tree roots. Were there anyone to observe him, the way this creature carries himself might bring to mind the way a jacket hangs on a person who’s been wearing it every day for years. Stopping, this worn-to-fit man looks to the ground, toeing at the dirt and leaves there. He grimaces and moves a few paces away, repeating the inspection. He gives a barely perceptible shrug and briefly nods. Looking now to the distance and turning fully around, he exhales and tilts his head back to examine the forest canopy. After several seconds, his eyes follow branch to limb and limb to trunk, travelling down the form of the tree next to him. He smiles, reaching out a calloused hand to pat the tree’s flank.
Dropping to one knee, he swings his pack to the ground, opens it, and brings out a small bag full of nuts, roots, dried meat and fruit. After his meal he lays out a weathered and threadbare bedroll covered in patches and other repairs. He takes a moment to flatten-out the deformity in the middle where he once sewed the mattress back together after it was torn clear in two. He nearly chuckles at the memory. Laying down, he bundles up his cloak and stuffs it under his head. Pushing with his elbows against the ground, he adjusts his position and sighs contentedly. Looking to the sky turning just now to night, he begins softly to whistle – a sound so slight you’d think it all in your head – and begins to slip bit by gentle bit into sleep.
[Pardon our dust! This section currently under construction.]