As the depths of the darkness and the primordeal might of the ancient trees closed around Arslan he instnictivly switched his adamntine warhammer and his chirt tomahawk on his belt so that the secold would be in easiest reach.  Arslan was a man at peace with his own duality, lion and man, tribal and cityborn.  He no longer felt much of a strugle at reconciling them.  This forest, though, in all it's terible glory, this was a place for the old ways.<br/><br/>A quick bit of work with a grapple and a spool of silk rope got him rapidly into the low boughs of the trees through which he stroled comfortably for a brief moment, trying to get his bearings.  Lions were best known as savana hunters, and humans as well in their natural state, the apes whose gods first taught them to swim, and then brought them back out of the watter onto the plains where their long legs let them run down their prey, and their keen minds and oposable thumbs let them take clubs and spears 'til they could compete with the lions and even wolves in their hunting.<br/><br/>Arslan's people, though, had come a long way from their lion and human ancestors, from the gifts that let them change from one to another and to the war form in between, to the curse upon that gift, to the dilution of blood that was nessicary to overcome that curse that was the difrence between a lycanthrope and a shifter and the learning of arts through witch the mightiest of warriors could regain that strength.  Somewhere in the midst of all that the culture of his people found a unique niche, a place uniquely theirs where earth met sky.  They were the Windwalkers, be it on the edges of the cliffs of the mountains of Korvair or working the highest towers of Sharn or making war from the boughs of ancient trees.<br/><br/>Their place was the horizon.<br/><br/>By remebering such things did the old ways reshape themselves into the new.  That was what Arslan remided himself, stroking the chirt tomhawk gently before planting his feet between two thick branches, pulling his knocked light crossbow from it's case, and leveling it at a zombie on the near edge of the pack.  His inner power filled the crystals lining the stock, and as the bolt loosed it pulled that power with it.<br/><br/>The old ways were nothing if not protean.