Chris the wise
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Aurelian squints into the leaves, trying to spot Severin’s outline.
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Aurelian’s head snaps around again “someone there?” he calls, standing to his full height.
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Aurelian stops at the sound, head snapping around, “hello there” he slowly creeps towards Tyr. “You’re awefully far south, little owl.”
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Elis moves out of his defensive stance, though his sheep remains extra fluffed, still staring a the figure.
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Elis slowly shifts on his feet, gripping his staff tighter, the bell letting out a soft tinkle.
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Elis pulls his staff across his body defencively, his sheep bleats, digging its feet in and fluffing its wool.
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The sheep bounces between patches of long grass, Elis glancing around nevously.
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Some distance away Aurelian crouches, examining a flower.
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Name: Aurelian
Age: 25
WRY: Human
Personality: Eternally curious, he has been known to pursue knowledge beyond the point of safety when something catches his interest. Otherwise he is kind and gentle, always asking before probing too deeply.
Looks: Aerlian wears large round spectacles under messy brown hair, a usually constant smile on his face. He wears a long coat and gloves over a simple shirt and a belt with multiple pouches containing investigatory tools.
Background: As a child Aurelian lived with his grandmother who told him stories of the Folk, how she would go to the forest, how she would watch them, and one she fell for. The stories stuck with the boy and once he grew into an adult he remained facinated by them, ignoring the rules to wander into the forest, much the the annoyance of the people around him. He minds not, seeking friends and others within the dappled realms.
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Gully pauses, wiping her mouth again, she leaps and flys to the boat, returning with a basket, she carefull places it under a bush and shakes it, ripe burries dropping, “Morgan says cookie can make jam for us.”
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Elis scratches his head, slightly embarressed, peering back at his tail “not without some accidents, once a connection is established it gets easier.”
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“Gully encountered them on a number of islands before nesting on the boat” a slightly sad cast forms on her eyes, before she hops forward and nips a berry.
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Elis blushes and tugs his hat a little lower, his tail swishes out and twirls, “I’m still only a beginner,” the Sheep bleats up at Elis.
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Elis pauses, looks down at the sheep then back up to Arrenadd “a little extra protection.” he remarks.