"Come on, tell us," Nara insisted, leaning forward with an eager grin.
Kalem exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "I'm not one to talk much about myself."
"Well, since he won't," Jhaeros cut in smoothly, crossing his arms with a small smirk, "I'll give it a go."
Nara turned to him instantly, her enthusiasm undeterred. "Sure!"
"You sure bounce back quickly," Lyra noted, amused.
"Hey, I like adventure. I don't care much about the source," Nara replied, shrugging.
"I see." Lyra chuckled, shaking her head.
"I suppose Garrick is right," Isolde said, nodding toward the dwarf.
"Indeed," Kalem agreed.
Garrick adjusted his posture and nodded. "Don't worry, I don't formulate prejudice based on written history."
Kalem shot him a dry look. "Like you did with me?"
That reminder made the group pause, recalling how Garrick had openly dismissed Kalem upon their first meeting, calling him unworthy of a warrior's presence.
"Well, you did collapse the entire battlefield on him," Isolde pointed out.
"Fair enough," Kalem admitted with a slight chuckle.
Garrick sighed, scratching his beard. "No, he's kind of right. It was wrong of me to insult him just because he didn't fit my definition of a warrior."
Kalem gave him a casual wave. "Well, you apologized, so it's alright."
"That's a relief," Garrick said, nodding.
"Well, with that out of the way," Jhaeros said, stretching his arms before settling back, "let's begin."
The group shifted, their attention now on him as he began his tale.
Jhaeros hailed from the Fangs Tribe, a nomadic Ilvaar hunting society residing deep within the Gale Forest. The region, named for the near-constant winds weaving through the ancient trees, was home to a vast array of creatures—both prey and predator. The dense canopy was a sanctuary of life, yet beneath its green veil, dangers lurked in the form of hidden predators, poisonous plants, and shifting territories.
For as long as he could remember, the hunt had defined his existence. His father, Rh'ros, was a revered hunter among their people, known for his unmatched tracking abilities and lightning-fast reflexes. He taught Jhaeros how to move unseen, how to read the wind, and how to understand the balance of the hunt.
"A hunt is not a battle," Rh'ros had told him countless times. "It is a conversation. One where you speak only with your actions. Move too aggressively, and the prey flees. Move too hesitantly, and you starve. You must find harmony."
His mother, Jh'ain, was a master of resourcefulness, ensuring that nothing from a hunt was ever wasted. From bone carving to pelt tanning, from preserving meats to brewing medicines with forest herbs—her hands worked with quiet efficiency, her knowledge a treasure trove of survival. She taught Jhaeros the importance of respect, not just for the kill, but for the land itself.
"We do not own the forest," she often said, "but we belong to it. As long as we remember that, we will always have a home."
From a young age, Jhaeros was immersed in the ways of his people. He participated in his first real hunt at the age of ten, stalking a shade stag, a creature with near-spectral camouflage that made it a ghost among the trees. It had taken him days to learn its movements, to anticipate the way it would react to the shifting winds. When the moment came, his arrow flew true, striking through its ribs with precision.
But it was not the kill that stayed with him—it was the silence after. As the life left the creature, he felt the weight of what it meant to take from the land. It was not just sport. It was survival.
Over the years, he grew into his role as a hunter, taking on more dangerous prey. The Fangs Tribe did not simply hunt for food; they were also protectors of balance. When certain creatures became too numerous and threatened the ecosystem, the hunters culled them. When invasive species entered the Gale Forest, they herded them out.
One of his most defining moments came at sixteen when a Stormfang Alpha, a massive wolf-like beast with lightning-charged fangs, began terrorizing the outskirts of the tribe's hunting grounds. Its presence threatened the natural order, and it had to be dealt with.
Jhaeros, along with three others, tracked the beast for days, moving through the winding forest trails, avoiding the signs of its territorial markings. The final encounter was fierce—the beast was faster, stronger, and its electric charge made direct contact deadly. In the end, Jhaeros delivered the decisive strike, piercing its heart with his spear in a single, calculated thrust.
Though victorious, he did not celebrate. As the Stormfang took its last breath, he placed a hand on its fur and whispered a small Ilvaar prayer, thanking it for the hunt.
That day, he had become more than a hunter—he had become a guardian of the Gale Forest.
But for all his skill, Jhaeros knew he could not stay in the forest forever.
The Fangs Tribe operated in small, close-knit groups, relying on tight coordination during hunts. Yet he had never found a true hunting partner—someone who moved in sync with him, who understood the rhythm of the hunt as well as he did. His father had always said that a hunter was at their best when they fought alongside someone who balanced them.
So, when the time came to choose his path, Jhaeros decided to leave the Gale Forest behind.
His journey took him through border towns, where his skills as a tracker earned him coin, and through mountain passes, where he learned to fight off bandits and monstrous threats.
It was in one of these towns that he first heard about the academy—an institution where warriors, scholars, and mages alike gathered to hone their abilities. It was a place filled with potential allies, rivals, and possibilities.
And so, he made his way there.
Not as a lost traveler.
Not as a student looking for validation.
But as a hunter. Searching. Waiting.
For the moment when he would finally find those who could walk beside him in the hunt.
As Jhaeros finished his tale, the campfire crackled between them, the shadows dancing against the dimming sky.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
"...That was awesome," Nara finally said, her eyes glinting with admiration.
"You sure do live up to the Ilvaar reputation," Garrick admitted, nodding.
Lyra, who had been silent for most of the story, finally spoke. "You left your home to find a hunting partner," she mused. "That's... an interesting way to look at companionship."
Jhaeros smirked slightly. "Hunting is trust. And trust is earned. I'm just taking my time finding the right ones."
Kalem nodded, understanding in his own way.
The conversation slowly drifted into lighter topics, but in the back of Jhaeros' mind, one thought lingered.
The hunt was far from over.
But for the first time in a long while—
He had a feeling he was on the right trail.