[Citanul]

This was supposed to be the forest that held many different types of trees, types of wood that were rare elsewhere. Supposedly all with a keen eye could find what they were after. Having been here two days already, it seemed like the Karri tree was out of reach, even for this large Paragon.

Pausing for a drink from a nearby stream he remained alert, light eyes looking around for any dangers as he quenched his parched throat. Brandr was not going to give up what he was looking for - all quests had hope, and this one was a necessity. A new hilt for his blade, being reforged from the shards of its previous life.

[Ander]

Atem, human form

He knew the forests well enough, but couldn't have told anyone why. Flashes of memory assaulted the Imperial male, mark of his alignment bright red and just visible through a collarless, loose cotton shirt. It, along with cargo pants and a grass-stained pack, was the only thing he wore. The burdens that this man carried with him were smaller things, mental things. More memories, triggering with every scent of fruit and crash in the trees, bore evidence of that.

Those memories were the reason he was here, wandering the world in the most faraway, dankest places he'd never wanted to be. His daughters were away, living their lives at home. No mate to speak of. No one to return to...but the endless train of fragmented thoughts that had been coming closer and closer to him, of late. They had woken him from dreams of family, love and home. Stirred him to near madness with his beloved princesses... Would Sleigh ever forgive him? The hurt in her eyes...when he'd snapped at her. Snapped! Like a brute, a wild werecain!

Growling low in his throat, the man shook away the thought. There was no room for repentance today; no guilt, no sadness, no endless worrying. There was but one more ingredient before he could return to Sage, and beseech the god for help...for a potion that would make straight the crooked isles of his mind. All he had to do was secure the fruit of the Karri tree, and he would be nary a stone's throw from home.

[Citanul]

The moments pause and cool drink seemed to simmer the Wingill's temper and invigorate his hunt. Deciding to take a different view he shifted himself down to a human form - dressing with clothes from a small satchel that seemed almost hidden in his Paragon form.

The pale-haired man that emerged dressed in black and red, though rather rustic clothing for this part of the world. Tanned leathers and obviously hand-stitched materials, but well-worn as well, broken in to his particularly slight build. Who figured that such a massive Paragon would turn into a slight young man?

Once dressed and shoes adorned he shouldered the bag and continued on his way, sharp eyes watching for any sign of his pale-hued tree. It didn't even have to be a large one for his sword hilt - a mere branch even, would make due.

[Ander]

Atem was so focused that the brilliant blonde crest of the Paragon nearby was lost to him, as was the rustle of his transformation. The man was oblivious to all. Instead, he lifted branches and bullied his way through leaves, feeling himself grow agitated at what would otherwise be beautiful trunks - navigating his way through the forest with a brute force born of desperation. Were he of stronger constitution, the young king would surely see the odious symptoms within himself: his temper growing shorter, attention to detail disappearing. The sweat making faint patches down the chest of his shirt. Why was this accursed place so hot?!

Growling, Atem swung his fist at a nearby branch blocking his path, only to see it snap under the blow. Even as it fell among the low-growing plants at his feet, he knew it had been a fruitless act. He knew that there was a path to the other side of this stand of trees, one that opened onto a sizable lake - it was only stubbornness that kept him heading that way, even if that stubbornness was quickly turning into anger. Anger at the heat, at the trees, which Atem voiced in a loud, furious snarl. But more than anything, it was anger at this knowledge! How did he know his way through these trees? Why couldn't he remember?!

Another branch fell, crashing harshly to the ground as wrathful, helpless growls bubbled up in their wake.

[Citanul]

Brandr couldn't ignore the sounds of the rampaging happening nearby. He looked that way, turning towards the mayhem to see what was happening. Another Paragon, perhaps? Who would cause so much wanton destruction?

What came into his view wasn't what he had expected. The human form in front of him was certainly no man. The strength could be of no ordinary man. "Ho there, stranger!" He called, though had not expected the deepness of the voice that came from his lithe form. Certainly, he was a Paragon, that growl deep in his chest.

"Razing the forest will not give you what you seek." And suddenly, he too certainly wished he hadn't switched forms. His scales easily dissipated the heat while in this form he was boiling, flushed, reaching to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt.

[Ander]

Midway through breaking another branch, Atem stopped still. The sound of another voice - another witness to his deplorable behavior! - made the male flinch as if stung, looking aghast at the splintered wood gripped in his palm. He released it, shaking his head as it dropped to the loam. "You are...right, of course." The king's baritone was unsteady. A palm clammy with sweat went immediately to his forehead, tousling shame from silver-streaked red locks; mixing several remnants of branch in too, unthinkingly.

Opening eyes closed to contain his temper, Atem turned toward the deeper tones. The man that greeted his sight was smaller than he expected, given that voice - but when was size any way to judge a man? "I apologize that you must see me this way. Understand that I would not ordinarily render these trees..."

He made to lift both hands apologetically. Instead, much to his horror, the Imperial man found his other hand occupied by a sword that he could not remember drawing. With a straight blade that gleamed a bright, tempered bronze, a hilt of bone, and a guard wrapped with supple leather, the weapon was of marvelous construction. Too marvelous to be out of the match leather scabbard at Atem's hip, and too much so to be used in cutting wood. How could he have bared it in his rage? "...nor would I draw naked steel amidst company." What if he had been unlucky, and faced more than a few saplings?  The king's cheeks burned with shame.

[Citanul]

The simply clothed man took a few steps forward so they didn't need to shout to one another. At least it seemed his voice had brought the man to his sense - he had stopped his war against the forest in his frustration. "I am sure no one would ordinarily try to rend this forest if they were not frustrated by it."

Brandr wanted to chuckle at the man in front of him for his shame, though he settled for a bit of a smile instead. It would be too rude. "At least you have bronze to brandish! I have yet to find what I seek as well - I do not suppose you have come across any Karri wood in all that mayhem?"

[Ander]

Atem didn't hesitate to sheathe his blade, still rueing the longsword's appearance. What a first impression he must have made... On top of his behavior, he would ordinarily hate to be seen in dress as plain as the shirt and cargos he wore. Not out of any materialistic urges, but out of ritual - out of tradition. It was in his way to wear at least a shirt nice enough to denote his station, but the male had forgone silks for this trip into the forest. It had turned out to be a wise decision, but all the same, the Imperial had hardly been expecting company and felt...well, nude, meeting another like this.

But this stranger was dressed simply as well. As he mentioned the karri, Atem could guess why. "'Karri', you said? You seek it too, then?" He stepped forward when the other did, extending a hand to shake. "Maybe it was fate that you stopped me, stranger. I am Atem. We might be well-served to hunt the tree together."

[Citanul]

Simple dress seemed to be the norm for the forests. It was too hot, too dense to be caring about superficial appearance. This time of year any clothes would be completely soiled, too drenched to be salvaged in any manner. Nodding to the stranger he took his hand firmly. "It is good to meet you Atem. I am Brandr, though you can call me Bran."

Another nod as he smiled, grinning happily. "I have indeed been seeking the tree. My blade's hilt was scorched in an accident and I need to fashion a new one. I feel I shame my ancestors until I can fix it; it has been in my family for generations. It seems your sword is whole; what do you seek from the Karri tree?"

He were curious; all parts of the tree had good uses.