Go to the Coven Stables

Zukka surpressed a shiver as he trudged his way through nearly knee-deep snow. Younger acolytes ducked out of his way as he made for the beastmaster's stables, while older apprectices and adepts gave a quick bow of acknowlegement before continuing about their day.

A steamy puff of air leaves Zukka's mouth as he eyes the beastmaster, already standing waiting with a beast saddled for his ride to the region's fortress.

It's an ugly thing, with drooping jowls, slobbering all over itself and dripping onto the snow-covered ground where it ultimately froze into a globby puddle. It panted heavily, lazily looking about and pawing at the ground, bored. The beast's coat was complete, but it shaggy, an unsightly grey-brown that reminded Zukka of decomposing scrap.