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Death of the Wild Man


Beordan
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Spoiler

 

BRQs5gy.jpg

The Wild Man as he first appeared to the

Descendants on Axios, during the early 1600s.

 

The Wild Man let out a puff of the stale subterranean air. All to be felt by him were the little gusts from his breathing, and the thrum of his own heart. He rumbled and rose to pace the width of the cavern. Its space was painted, decorated even, but empty. Only himself and his child remained to make use of these rocky chambers.

Thrum.

There would be another hunt tonight.

His burdens he left at the mouth of the cave: 

The skull of his daughter;

The club carved with stories;

The necklace to lost kin.

Thrum.

He would have no more need for these encumbering things. Into the jungles, the forests, the plains, and the deserts he would go. Surely he would find a creature capable of besting him. Surely he would be struck down. He would reunite with his lost people, and need no longer to paint the stories of his kinsmen dying, time and time again.

Thrum.

Before the Wild Man, the path laid open. He spilled the last volumes of Wildling history onto the bonfire’s fading flames, and trudged onwards.

Thrum.

When the sun climbed out from beneath the horizon, there was nothing more to be seen of the patriarch. Into the wilderness he’d gone once more, and there he’d meet his long-sought fate.

 

Thrum.

Edited by Beordan
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Alexandra finishes up a pint of that good **** on her extended booze-cruise. She orders another.

 

”This one’s for you, big guy.”

 

The redhead poured one out for the realest motherfucker she’s ever met.

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Steven wonders whatever happened to that crazy alchemist that threw his friend in an oven.

 

OOC:

((thank you for everything that was spawned by the rp of rafe and the wild man, beordan. he was an iconic being who i loved.

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Khalid Ibn Mahmoud meets him in seven skies with a large smile “From a fancy royal doctor in Haria, to a big strong wild man Welcome home. Sorry I could not find you.”

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“I've seen you wandering for so many years, Wild man. I hope you will find your place on the other side and finally finish your wanderings, Take care.” A halfling muttered to herself

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Sarrion stands on the edge of his ship on the seas, he would have passing thought of the young alchemist who was raised in Skyfall. “Wonder how he’s doing.” muttered the elf.

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Bell Sano began to weep from the Seven Skies.

 

 

 

Watching the hairy mass march through the pearly, white gates brought a tear to the old man’s eyes. Another friend had arrived. The old man wept, for he had been awaiting the Wild Man’s arrival, knowing the beast long before he was regarded as such. “The Wild Man. . . Rafe, my boy, we’ve been expecting you. What took so long? It’s been over a century.” With that, the elderly scholar grinned.

 

“Welcome home.”

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A Druid bows her head respectfully at the passing of a very wild man.

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The Jungle Man let his head hang low, upon hearing his former Chieftain had fallen. “Jungle Man no longer see Wild Man...”

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The young Wildling child quietly waits for his father to return from his hunt, wondering why, this time, he left his belongings at the mouth of the cave. He continues to wait, days passing, rejecting the truth. The Wild Man was leader. The Wild man protected. The Wild man was strong...

 

Yet, he could wait no more. Hunger gnawed at his skinny frame, and he must continue the traditions of his people. He took up the belongings of his father, and set off. He would find the body of his father, and return his bones, placing them with honor with his other ancestors. He would slay the beast who had taken his father from him.

 

And then? Then, Grungh would see...see what life had in store for the son of the Wild Man.

 

 

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Marcas Weedsnatcher loves his new Wild Man coon style hat. 

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“Wish I could’ve gotten to know you more...” says Darien, saddened at the news

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