Chapter 6: nothing left unused
With the white wolf safely confined in the breeding den, almost sure of her pregnancy, I turned my attention to the fallen black wolf. The forest around me was alive with the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, a symphony of wilderness that enveloped me as I knelt beside my quarry.
Using my crude tools—a jagged stone and a worn blade—I carefully skinned the animal, my movements methodical and precise. The thick fur yielded to my touch, peeling away in strips to reveal the sleek hide beneath. Each stroke of the blade was deliberate, a testament to my skill and determination in this unforgiving environment.
The fur, lush and dense, held the promise of warmth and protection against the biting cold of the forest nights. With each strip of fur I removed, I imagined the luxurious coat it would become, a message to the future goblin in is tribe.
Once the skinning was complete, I folded the pelt neatly, storing it away for safekeeping. Every scrap of fur would be valuable, whether for insulation against the chill or as material for crafting. As I worked, the scent of fresh blood mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest, a potent reminder of the cycle of life and death that governed this untamed realm.
With the remaining bones and sinew, I fashioned a crude bed, lining it with tufts of fur for comfort. It was a humble creation, born of necessity and crafted with care.
The wolf meat was taken and cooked on the fire roasting slowly as I turned it to cook each side.
World building.
In the sprawling expanse of the Azov Kingdom, the lands under the dominion of Lord Percival Blackwood were characterized by a stark contrast between opulence and neglect. At the heart of his territory lay the grandeur of the capital city, a bustling metropolis teeming with life and activity. Here, towering stone structures adorned with banners bearing the sigil of House Blackwood rose majestically against the azure sky, casting imposing shadows over the cobblestone streets below.
Within the confines of the capital city, Lord Percival held court in a lavish palace, its halls adorned with gilded tapestries and ornate chandeliers that glittered with the light of a thousand candles. Surrounded by sycophants and courtiers eager to curry favor, Lord Percival reveled in his status as a nobleman of wealth and influence, his every whim indulged by servants and vassals alike.
Yet beyond the confines of the capital, the lands under Lord Percival's rule told a different story. Villages and hamlets scattered across the countryside lay in various states of disrepair, their thatched roofs sagging and their streets strewn with detritus. Neglected by their absentee lord, these rural communities struggled to eke out a meager existence, their pleas for aid falling on deaf ears as Lord Percival focused his attention solely on matters of financial gain.
Lord Percival's greed knew no bounds, his insatiable appetite for wealth and power eclipsing any semblance of duty or compassion. While he lavished attention upon the capital city and its prosperous merchants, the villages under his domain languished in poverty and neglect, left to fend for themselves in the face of adversity.
It was this callous indifference that characterized Lord Percival's response to the goblin camp's attack on the outskirts of his territory. Only when the goblins dared to threaten the main city did he deign to intervene, dispatching his knights with reluctant resolve to quell the threat and protect his financial interests.
Despite his ostentatious displays of wealth and power, Lord Percival Blackwood's true nature lay bare for those with eyes to see—an avaricious lord whose pursuit of profit left little room for compassion or justice in the lands under his rule.
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