<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/06/Cirven150.png)</div><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/79/Cirven150a.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Cirven<br/><strong>Current Form:</strong>Trithos<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Near Koann, Centos city<br/><strong>Players Nearby:</strong>None<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The trip was long, but not arduous, except for the few instances where he was almost caught by Centos patrols. It felt... enlightening to be in the place of his soldiers and scouts. Nothing to turn to, no support, just himself, and the hope that his subtlety would be enough to avoid getting caught. Until now, it had worked. He remained unfound and, if the markings on his map were any indication, he was close to Koann. close enough, anyway. He did notice that patrols had intensified, but that wasn't an indicator of any growth in armed forces. It was a city, so the patrols to protect it would be larger to make sure that no attempt to attack it came without a good amount of warning. He left the roads then, not needing them anymore anyway. He could seen the lights of the city, fires and lamps burning into the night, on the 5th day since he had left his camp. He didn't miss it. Lighting fires, cooking for himself, hunting and being hunted had him feeling oddly alive again. He had left his armor behind, although his two blades had never left his side. He had brought a bow and a small quiver as well, which he only used for hunting. He disliked using bows with an intensity simply because he was horrible at them, wasting many arrows in the attempt to catch something. Which was why he tried practicing before he ran out of food. With a bit of practice, he turned out not to entirely suck at it, but he knew that he didn't have the eye for it. Or the hands. He managed to catch some food, but he decided to tran and make whatever he did catch.<br/><br/>His horse was a silver gelding, slim, and faster than the west wind. Of course, it was smaller than the Centos chargers, with a lighter tread. If he ever tried to run it head to head against them, it would be run down like so much infantry. But it was faster and more agile, more fit to travelling across the country, with a sense for finding its way, a nose for danger. He had had the horse for almost 10 years now, and a friendship between the two had bloomed. Well... maybe friendship was too descriptive a word. But it was more or less what they shared. The horse lived off of the grass that they could find, as Cirven had not spoiled it with oats, apples, and sweet hay overmuch. Those were in short supply in his current posting anyway.<br/><br/>His dropped off of his horse, his eyes wandering over the ground. The horse snorted and pawed at the ground, disliking the smell of the air. Cirven dared not disregard the horse's nose, not this close to the Centos city. He tied the horse to a tree no, the sword in his hands now, still sheathed as he didn't want to give his position away with the glint of silver steel in the sunlight. He moved stealthily through the underbrush. He didn't bring the bow or quiver with him. They would be useless in a combat situation for him anyway. He slid over the ground, a shadow of a shadow. All elves knew how to hide in the wild. It was an inherited gift. Peranos had perfected the gift better, but hiding from a Centos blundering through the wild was not much of a puzzler for even him.<br/><br/>But he saw no Centos. It was... well, there were two of them. He could hear voices, but not in the blunt, guttural Centos speech. It was... well, different. Peranos, definitely. But he didn't recognize the other one. He moved closer, his hands still on the blade.