The morning greeted Garron with an irritating chill and slime-riddled wake up call made possible by way of a native frog to the cheek. He met the morning in turn with a shifting and growl. The Corone-bred rich forest ground was hard with centuries old coppice. Several decomposing twigs from trees surrounding and hashing pebbles stamped out by time laying under his bedroll edged the Alpine man to roll to his side and curse. He had been too exhausted to care at the time he lay his head to rest. He cared now, though… Concordia did offer a pretty, bright golden dappled glow of sunlight blazing a trail through thick green ancient drip-lines and dark tarnished shadow dwelling beneath, but the sudden awakening left Garron grumbling.
He sat up slowly with large hands rubbing at the peaks of his kneecaps before arching for meeting his lower back to rub out sleeps soreness. “Damn Concordian awakenings…,” Garron whispered to himself. ‘Ugh' The Son of Winter struggled, but managed to find his knees and long stretched his upper portion aligning the 7’ frame to its length points. Outer fists banished sleep from tired viridian eyes, and Garron peeked around his campsite for safeties assurance through slit eyelids. Unsolved tidings were thick these days and he knew well of the mysterious things that freely lurked within the wood.
A wisp of gray smoke trailed from a small campfire surrounded by found rock and bone of many sort over time piled to stay off the spreading of flames, with an offering of smoldering oaken glaze aroma mingling with damp underbrush and an added crisp adventurous glean to the morning. Garron shook his head and a hand found the haft of his trusted warhammer that lay beside him for the calming feel of iron in his hand. Finding his feet, Garron began collecting his necessities and made sure to snuff out his fire before traversing towards the Bradbury River for a washing of used items and body. Radasanth was weighing on his mind.
