[Resven Longsteed]

[Age 38]

[Realm: Light Red]

[Soul Spirit Tattoo: The Great Anchor]

[Mestin Hightmalt]

[Age 39]

[Realm: Light Red]

[Soul Spirit Tattoo: The Great Anchor]

Bramm pulled out their information from the system and nodded before he stood up, placed a heavy hand on each of the men’s shoulders, and nodded, "Rise, Resven and Mestin, House Osric sees you!"

It was the traditional greeting he had seen those of great houses perform when he was on his travels over the years. Bramm had traversed a great deal of land in the Sunder Coast and knew what the two men performed was the Heart and Axe salute.

He responded in kind, and the two men stood straight.

"There isn’t much for you right now. Dun-Shatter is built into the cliffs. Resven, gather intel—especially on Clan Morvayn. Stay cautious. Report when done."

"Take these Copper Leafs, they should be able to get you things you need."

Bramm left them for a moment and brought out a bag of coins, giving them to Resven.

Resven gave a salute, thumping his heart with his fist before departing. He walked slowly but steadily, heading down the Hunter’s trail.

Bramm turned his attention to the cabin and its immediate surroundings, ’Guess I’ll need to revamp some ideas.’

With the addition of Resven and Mestin and more possible warriors in the future, Bramm knew the current space would not be enough, and he needed to start expanding and working on new buildings.

"Looks like we’ll be quite busy for a while," he chuckled, "Mestin, I want you to go and gather as much Iron-oak as you can gather, a few flat stones from the river creek to the west, and as much moss and river sand as you can. I will be joining you shortly."

Mestin saluted with a fist against his chest before departing, not a single word uttered as he left in a hurry. ’Quite the silent man, huh?’

Bramm left and headed for his cabin. With the newest additions and more to come, he needed to come up with a few plans on how the area would look and what would be built, etc...

Meanwhile, Resven was steadily on his way towards the great city of Dun-Shatter. He had been on the road for the better part of the day; the journey to the coastal city was by no means easy, as he had to traverse quite the treacherous terrain heading down.

The distance from the cabin to the city was a one-day trek on foot, and Resven had not stopped except to eat or fetch something to drink. He was currently in the Black Pine forest to the east of the cabin, and almost halfway through his journey.

The forest was old, and the trees grew to gargantuan heights; the canopy was dense like sand at the bottom of the sea, which blocked out many rays of the yellow sun. Luckily for Resven, a few beams of light were able to filter through, lighting his path.

Resven hummed a soft tune as he marched. Suddenly, a sharp noise caught his attention. He stopped immediately, reaching for his sledgehammer strapped across his back. With practiced speed, he took a defensive stance and scanned the forest around him, his grey eyes searching for the source of the sound.

Birds fluttered to his right in panic as a hulking fissure jumped out from the underbrush, leaping towards Resven.

Eyes constricting, Resven dived to the side into a donkey roll. He gave a grunt to stabilise himself on his feet and turned to face the figure.

Bathed in light, the figure was revealed to be a 9-foot-tall ape-like creature, covered in moss and what seemed to be some kind of wooden debris. A small crater had appeared where he had stood, the log-like arms of the creature still slammed into the ground.

’One hit and it’s over.’

Grunting in response to his attacker, Resven raised his two-handed sledgehammer and readied himself for battle. Light crimson-colored light appeared around him, forming a phantom about the size of a tree.

A rusty anchor, seaweed hanging at the ends, and a resplendent carving of the seas on its body. The Great Anchor - Resven’s soul tattoo.

Resven was a light red stage warrior, and thus his phantom glowed red in color, symbolizing his power.

He did not have to wait too long before the phantom image of the apelike creature appeared behind it as well, a slightly redder shade of color, darker, although not by much.

’Abyssals! It’s probably not far from the red-colored stage.’

Resven gritted his teeth; this was a dangerous obstacle in his path, but he knew that he had to complete it. With a soft grunt, he lunged forward, his hammer swinging in a large arc.

The beast had not yet moved from its initial hunched position, and he knew that the best opportunity to smite its side would be now. The log-like forearms of the beasts would be too difficult for his hammer to inflict damage on.

The beast did not wait for him to reach its target. It stood up with a speed that seemed unnatural, bringing its forearms to the side.

A large thunk echoed through the area.

Resven grunted through the vibrating pain his arm felt, his eyes glued to the beast. Just as he thought, the forearms of the creature had completely absorbed the swing of his hammer, and there wasn’t even a dent made.

With a swing of his hip, he swung the whole hammer away in an attempt to attack the open side of the beast, but to his dismay, the beast moved just as fast. Another thunk echoed, and before he had time to think, a shadow appeared above his head, blocking out what remained of the filtered rays of light.

He looked up to see one of the arms come crashing down, intent on squashing him to the ground. His pupils constricted, but he moved without hesitation, jumping back as far as he could.