[color=9e0b0f] [right][h3]Alarand[/h3] [b]The Reaver[/b][/right] [hr][/color] Orders were orders, but a good part of Alarand felt that this particular mission had been given to him as a personal test… a test to see at which precise point on the journey he would start madly attacking every tree along the path. If it wasn’t for the chill of the water invading his clothing, utterly soaking his loose clothing. He had removed his gauntlets in an effort to protect them from the water, but he had less than optimistic hopes that the contents of his pack were still dry, after a few hours in the rain. If there was one thing to be happy about, it was that he no longer felt cold, just numb. To make things worse, the darkening sky only seemed to grow darker. Given a few hours, and even his elven eyes would have a hard time picking out a path in the dark. In a way, he could consider it fortunate that he hadn’t been given a travel partner- it made it easier to control the ever biting anger. He could feel it, pushing at the borders of his mind, almost a separate being. The rage could be seductive at times, but he knew better than to let it out. Three methods. Fivra had made him promise to practice at least three different strategies when he was irritated in the field. Listing would be a good start. Cold. Cold took the edge of the anger away, and replaced it with being miserable. Wet too. In the end, they were good. [color=9e0b0f][i]Blood is warmer.[/i][/color] He winced at the thought, forcing it away. [i]Fire is warmer.[/i] Alarand opened his mouth and forced a deep breath, and then a second. In a way, this could be considered nice. The water was clean, and forests were always more beautiful after a storm. Just a week ago, he had been suffering from thirst. In a way, he really had nothing to complain about. It was a show of willpower for the elf to straighten his posture, push his breathing down, and pace forward into the rain, trying to force positive thoughts through his mind. Alarand was close to the clearing, [color=9e0b0f][i]at least, I think so.[/i][/color] He had been lost for close to two hours. In a fit of rage, he had abandoned the specific trail in favor of a less muddy path. It was against his better judgement, but in this rain, most of what he did was. [i]I thought I had gotten myself under control…[color=9e0b0f] and now this.[/color] [/i] The sooner he got to the cave, the better. [i]At the very least there would be [color=9e0b0f]bodies[/color] [b]fire[/b] to warm himself up.[/i] He was tired, that’s all. [b]“Who are you?”[/b] The inquiry startled him, and the elf barely stopped himself from jerking around. It would have been ironic if that particular ‘survival instinct’ had cost him his life. Alarand hesitated, and then stepped a little further from the voice, raising his hands slightly above waist level, palms out. “Alarand, the cold and miserable.” He slowly turned to face her, finding a rather tall female elf. She was a few inches taller than he was, with cascading red hair. He had been ambushed by much uglier people. “I suppose you usually ask for a name before shooting someone?” The idle banter was more for himself, than for her. [i]I wonder if I’ve ever been shot… [color=9e0b0f]or if the archer survived.[/color][/i] He was shivering, and probably wouldn’t have much luck trying to dodge a point blank arrow after spending a couple of hours in freezing rain. [i]I should [color=9e0b0f]strike first.[/color] ask directions. [/i] “I am just a tad lost, sorry if I am invading your…” His eyes flicked sideways, glancing at their surroundings “… trees…”