OOC Side-Note: This is an open, common story without any links to major plotlines or character to character interaction beyond NPC's. It's for entertainment purposes, however, do -not- just make killing the characters in it your priority. Feel free to bring in your player characters from BD to help out the NPC's, post at leisure. Same rules on the forums and in the channel itself do apply here.
Common Heroes: Dogs are not always man's best friend...
Winter was coming, the chills of the north already swept absent fingertips about the trees. Tell-tale hues of a twilight horizon splashed atop all the foliage and begun to fall from shedding branches. Already he'd bound himself within pelts and furs, hardened leathers to resist the intemperate season about to descend upon them all. It'd been another long year, the hungered bellies of many families had forced them to desperate measures. Brigandry within the forest roads, the Guard was swamped as it was with things so unnatural. His homestead was not large by any manner, a few miles north of Myrken Town, emeshed within the thick of the Wood -- but it was his.
Benjamin Tien, amongst a crowd he'd be nothing, another face to blend in amidst dozens. Unremarkable to any degree, gaunt features drawn with crimson flush, staving off zephyr's chill, lean frame that was neither bulky with muscle nor fat; rather he was a combination of both, layer of insulation strewn over hardened sinew. He was forged by this land, by many years spent with such winters as this, dusty brown hair, unkempt and grown, tied back into a tail to keep free of his eyes. Dark gaze drawn unto the heavens, clouded by gray and occasional splash of amber hues. Callous fingers wove tighter about his axe, blistering palms aching with a refastening grip to the impliment.
He was a lumberjack; it was no glorious life, rather one filled with hardship. Wolves prowled the forest at night, sometimes things far worse. And yet he'd prospered, his children grown and spread out to their own lands, wife long succubmed to child-birth at their fourth. Soon, with those stark, lengthy streaks of gray, he'd join her. Arm shifted to the side, letting iron head of the keen axe touch against the soil, brought up then and with momentum to hack back downwards. A practiced movement, one he'd repeated so many times through his life he could nary count -- timber split, shards of wood spraying out.
A careful process of choosing just exactly which tree to fell, those aged and already dropping their seed to the earth. With the cold on approach, it'd be a valued commodity; hundreds all across the province and even those in surrounding lands would need the lumber for hearths and building. Seasonal work, during the winter most of the men left the stagnant fields and into the forest. For Ben, it was no different. Yet light was dimming, weathered brows furrowed inwards and he turned back towards the beaten shack he called home.
"B..Ben!" Gasping words, from lungs that had only a bare amount of breath for which to form them. This brought about the aged veteran of the wood to gaze at the stumbling form of Cal, a neighbor as it was; fair distance off but his nearest companion. Sweat stained shirt, tiny rivulets of it still dripping free of his forehead. Far younger than Ben, he still had a growing family, two children and a vibrant wife of eighteen.
" 'allo, wot's 'dah bodder, 'uh?" The old man knew it was nothing like inviting him to dinner by the sheer frantic splay of fear upon Cal's face, axe wrought up and hoisted to his shoulder.
"P..pair o'.." Flustered, breath heaving through shuddering lungs as he attempted to still a wavering tongue, threatening to merely splur off into some babble. Doubled over, hands rested atop knees as his jaw slacked open, coughing lightly. "..'abid 'untin' mutts, 'round my place.. wun't 'eave." Likely leaving his family trapped inside, of course, rabid animals were definitely a problem in these parts. Driven mad they often were single-minded in their pursuit for food, the dangerous part was being bitten. One little knick and you'd get the mind fever too. Cal was smart in coming to Ben, trying to kill them himself would likely just get him torn apart.
"..a'ight, c'mon laddie, 'dere be anudder 'atchet in 'da s'ed. Go git's it and we best git goin'!" Blistered thumb gestured over his shoulder towards the smaller outcropping of his house, some attached shed or another likely holding all the sharp instruments, so long gone children would not endanger themselves with foolishness. Cal was only gone a minute before he returned from the place with a small hand-axe carried, it'd suit their purpose just fine.
And with that did the two men jog off into the woods, racing for Cal's home before those animals might find a way into that house and ravage the family within.