Sergekamada

Scraping a hunting knife against a large branch, Marcus carefully whittled away at the bark. Humming a slow tune in his head helped him focus on his work. Chainmail hung on a branch next to him with the familiar red guard's tunic draped over Marcus awkwardly. It had been nearly two hours now since he had started this little project and he had forgotten completely where he was. Carefully placing the knife in it's sheath as it leaned against the log he sat on, Marcus took a deep breath. The smell of lilac and thistle tickled his nostrils as the breeze gently caressed his dirty face. A squirrel perched on one of the countless oak trees surrounding his well fueled fire chirped in curiosity. Pink leafs glowed in the still night above the oaken canopy, a reminder the great willow watched over him. Setting up camp in the Freyan Grove was some of the most peaceful times he'd known. Living amid the hustle and bustle of the inner city proper was never his style. Naturally when he joined

Bartholomew’s orange and striped fur laid limp and damp over his thin Abyssinian cat body. His top hat was left in the care of Ricky the raven after learning what his current mission was. The smell of mold and decay overwhelmed his sensitive nostrils and he cringed in disgust at the state of the catacombs he was sent to explore. Ravens were often nomadic, which led to complications with their death rituals for passed comrades. Their catacombs were located far to the north of Ravenhome beneath the Featherstone taiga, which made for some interesting complications traveling via airship. Thankfully Ravens had created routes to make it easier to transport their passed thaumaturges and high-ranking nobility to rest in their most sacred of places. The darkness only added to the cold, with nothing but a small lantern to guide his way through to find his target. The walls were carved into the side of a mountain where they inlaid precious stones in the rock at every casket. After passing