[Flashback] Bones and Snakescales (Bones)

[Wrenmae]

Spring 01 507 AV

Teeth crowned the horizon, Low king of the earth never standing tall enough to overtake the sky. Well enough, one supposed, well enough. The sky was not meant to be challenged. It wove its starry facade across the whole of Mizahar, Zulrav's breath, Syna and Leth's blanket, the expanse of the All-cave.

Wrenmae trotted beneath it, rocking back and forth atop his steed. Weaver was snuffling again, sneezing with every third step and spraying their path with pathogen. The storyteller winced, but could not cease the transpiring. Sickness was his brother, close bedmate to the Plagued it followed him like Vayt's cloying cigar smoke.

Here in the rough he was alone, free to take his charming facade and air it out. Alvadas had its secrets, and he, his. Somewhere in this desolate land an abandoned wagon lay as an invitation to the fowl of the air and the beast of the earth. Somewhere bodies lay beneath thick woven blankets, expired where the fever took them. The memories seemed distant now, lived in another life. Perhaps it was easier that way, his mind taking a direct path away from the mental exhaustion of secrets and misery.

Perhaps he was as deranged as everyone seemed to be in Alvadas.

Life, as always, was confusing.

Pausing at the crest of a craig, Wrenmae swung off his horse and tied the creature to tower of stone, rounded by the wind and rain and left as though the spear of some deep warrior carving the surface like paper. Drawing his blade from the saddle bag, Wrenmae stepped away from his horse and held out his hands.

He must have looked a sight, arms outstretched and chin pointed up toward the sun. His mouth hung open for a moment, then wider, wider still, and he screamed out across the mountaintops a primal howl.

Djed roared across his tongue, suffusing his notes with commands, come, be at peace, be summoned, congregate. He could target none in particular and though his horse tugged at its reigns to conform, it remained rooted.

It lasted only a moment, each note woven with strands of magic, of Hypnotism, and in those moments the Kalea ranges came suddenly alive. Rabbits and smaller creatures...prey by all accounts came crawling from their niches, their hiding holes. their homes. They gathered as sudden comrades, drawn by common overpowering urges. Birds of prey, at least a few, sat on the stones above him and three deer poked their heads curiously around a bend in the path.

It was the bear though, a young creature of burly shoulders and rough hewn hair, ambling toward the storyteller curiously, that caught his attention. The moment those curious eyes were on his, he had it. Waves of hypnotism poured from his gaze, piercing the distance between them to wrap gently around the bear's sense of survival. No, it was not hungry, no, it was not threatened. Instead it easily lumbered past the prey that littered the ground to sniff at the storyteller curiously.

Wrenmae reached out a hand, gently touching the top of the bear's head. It growled, sudden fear at so alien an expression, but it hadn't time to realize the gravity of its mistake. Wrenmae's other hand rose, dagger flashing in the pale noon light before plunging it down directly into the bear's skull.

It roared, shaking the range with sudden agony and betrayal. It bit at the air, swiped at Wrenmae close enough to send the boy sprawling away, taking the dagger with him. He was laughing as he fell, a winded thing of choked effort. The bear was beyond following him, death throes tremoring around the base of the dagger as the creature fell to the earth. Spell broken, the remaining animals scattered.

Wrenmae didn't care. He had his quarry.

Retrieving the blade from the beast and rubbing his bruised shoulder, Wrenmae set to splitting hide from bone. It was early in the noon, a time that left him with a hack job of cutting away skin and fur from the skull. Bloody hunks of sinew and viscera colored the stones red around him. Using the dagger and his own strength, Wrenmae strained at the body, cutting way the top layer of fur and skin and hacking at the column of bone that held the neck together. After hours of work he pulled the skull from the body and lay it on the stones, pouring some water over it to wash some of the excess blood. The smell was strong, fat and the process of decay beginning in the creature. Removing the eyes bothered him the most, scraping them out left him with the impression of being stared at, recognized, even accused.

He began carving in the center of the skull, carefully tracing an uneven circle before sighing and putting the dagger aside. Pulling out a gold rimmed miza, Wrenmae set it at the crown of the skull and carved around it with the dagger, chiseling at the wet bone bit by bit to clear a circle. Power was what he was going to carve here, hopefully some sort of grisly totem borrowing the strength of the bear he'd killed.

A hope that it wouldn't leave some vengeful spirit behind.

Djed rose in him as he finished carving the circle, pocketing his miza and carefully cutting out the letters in the circle. A process that should have been a matter of two hours became four, the sun dipping toward the horizon as he finished. Still bloody, the maledicted skull sat coldly on the stone, staring at him. Wrenmae fed his horse and sat back against the stone wall, running cloth over his blade to clean the excess blood from its length. As always, the effects of the maledicted item were unknown...things better tested than assumed.

Crossing his arms over his legs, the boy laughed, the gravity of the morning settling on him. Alone he had manipulated nature with his mind and murdered it without remorse...

Left the rest of its carcass as waste.

And much like the wagon lost in the winding gulches and gullys of the Unforgiving...he asked himself, now more than ever.

Was he a monster?

[Ssafirsotibones]

It was starting to get dark... That was the first thought to run through Bones head... He had been out hunting, trying to find himself something to eat... But for some reason, there seemed to be few animals out today... So he had looked in vain, and had still been out of the city as the sun dipped, and neared the horizon... Soon he would need to put up for the night, find a safe spot to return to town for morning... But as he walked, he darted his tongue out, smelling and tasting something thick upon the air.... Blood... The smell made his stomach growl, as he thought of whatever beast must have died to leave such a great scent upon the air... Something of a decent size surely... Perhaps there was another hunter out, preparing there meal... He looked around, trying to tell from which way the blood had come from... But the scent was so heavy, even he could trace it in his less capable human form... So he walked, using the light of the fast falling sun to guide his passage, as the last few rays of sun squeezed over the mountains and hills... Then he saw were the scent was coming from... Bones took in the site rather fast, the dead bear with its skull ripped off, the rest of its body laying abandoned and bloody on the ground... A horse, standing there, its nostrils flaring as it took in the thick aroma of blood on the air... And least of all a man, leaning nonchalantly against a wall, blood on him from were he had butchered the bear, and the bear skull overlooking him on a small stone wall.... Though Bones thought he noticed something on it, cut into the bone... A circle sliced in?... Surely... That could only mean one thing... Malediction... A magic of which he only knew for the fact that he himself had some skill in... "Hello ssere... I sssee you have been busssy, and are alssso out here for the night? Perhapsss we could make camp togesser, sssafety in numbersss right? And perhapsss we could ssshare sssome of your meat ssere?" If the human accepted his offer, he would start to gather bits of wood... If they were staying out, the least he could do was to make a fire for warmth and light, and to keep away unwanted pests.

[Wrenmae]

Admittedly, Weaver caught on first. The horse snuffed the air, breathing out the thick scent of blood and nickering with troubling insistancy. As Wrenmae turned to the horse, motion out of the corner of his eye drew him back to Bones walking out of the darkness. Immediately his hand went to his blade, the other flattening firmly on the ground before pushing him up. The stranger talked with a hissing lisp, not so strange to remark on, but enough to cast his appearance in a significantly darker light.

He had no horse with him, traversing the Unforgiving on foot...dangerous, or perhaps it meant he knew the area better. He certainly wasn't a Symenestra, the Widow folk that stole people into the night, but there was something else...

Details, details...he had been brought up to believe in the details to identify a person, to make a person. The fellow looked strong, probably fair with his hands. He wore clothes that were not torn, actually rather neatly maintained. He probably lived in Alvadas, that or kept meticulous out here in the mountains. It seemed a less likely option, so Wrenmae chose the former. While had never seen Bones before, it stood to reason that one could never see all the people in Alvadas...after all, most of them did not exist half the time.

Only someone in Alvadas would understand that.

Wrenmae realized he was being rude, answering the question with only silence. Nodding hesitantly he inched his hand away from the dagger and sat back against the rock wall again. "Sure, there's too much meat here for me to eat anyways...but I'll need to remove some other bones before we can eat what's left." He sighed, stretching and drawing his blade before approaching the bear again. "We'll need a fire, and I'll need to know your story before we get too cozy...why are you out here without a horse, alone?"

He smiled at Bones, shaking his head. "I should begin, I guess. My name is Wrenmae, of Alvadas."

[Ssafirsotibones]

Bones began to move once more once the man nodded, and pulled his hand back from his blade, resting once more against the wall. Seeing this, he had already started to move around and gather firewood. He also got a few handfuls of dead leaves, which could be used for tinder. Once he had a decent pile of the different bits of fire fuel, the dead leafs as tender, bunches of twigs, and one decent sized log, he turned to look once more at the man. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out his lamp, which was already filled with some oil, and rested it on the ground. Next he pulled out some flint and steel, and struck the flint near the wick of the lamp, making sparks. After a few tries, he managed to get the wick, and a few seconds later the lamp lit, giving off a flickering light. He figured it was best to get some light now, before the sun went all the way down leaving them in darkness. Now that he had some light, he turned back to the man, to respond to what he had said. "I am Bonesss... I wasss out hunting, trying to find sssomessing to eat. It isss hard to find anyssing fresssh in the city. I am alssso living in Alvadasss right now. Ssough to be honessst I could not find much today, it ssseemed like half of the animalsss were gone." Of course Bones had no way of knowing that the man he was speaking to had something to do with the animals disappearance. But who knows how he might react if he were to find out. For though Bones was a dhani, and did eat animals, he was also respectful of them, and what they gave up so he might survive. Needless to say that if he had known the man had planned to just letthe bear go to waste, and had killed it for no reason but its skull... He also might not be so happy... But lucky for Wrenmae, Bones did not know those things. As Bones knelt down to try and dig a small hole in which to make there fire, he glanced once more over at Wrenmae. "I sssee you are practicing magic... I recognize the circle you marked on it... I alssso have sssome ssskill with ssat bit of magic... What were you trying to do with the ssskull? What wasss your aim for it? Or did you not have a direction?"

[Wrenmae]

Light cast shadows across the rocks, sharpening and softening the jagged edges. The body of the bear almost seemed to twitch by the fire, as though some dark magic gave its body the necessities of basic life, eternal suffering, nothing more. Wrenmae had returned to the bear, straining his muscles as he sawed beneath the bear's fur, a basic effort of skinning. Blood glistened on his hands as he worked, and he did it without speaking. Weaver had returned to indifference, staring up at the sky as though counting the stars. The horse felt he was above the conversations his rider seemed to have, pointedly taking a lack of interest in his activities as a personal insult. Wrenmae smiled, he wouldn't have it any other way. Animals had the shreds of humanity within them, sparks of personality that almost suggested sentience beyond simple eyes. It was no wonder there were so many legends about speaking beasts...and of Kelvics as well.

Maybe his unexpected visitor was one such creature.

Wrenmae watched the Dhani prepare the fire, taking care to examine his skin for scars or his eyes for ticks. It helped to know a person before really speaking to them, to read the stories of their lives across skin and expression. Bones was a stoic creature, or at least did not smile as he worked. Wrenmae strained, peeling a hunk of fur from the bear's back and leaving only glistening muscle and bone beneath.

He paused to take out the claws from the feet, cutting around them and yanking them out individually. A femur or two, and even a jutting shoulder bone he wrested from the carcass and lay beside the fire before falling back, tired.

"Bones huh," Wrenmae gasped, cutting a piece of meat from the bear and spearing it against a stick laid for extra wood beside the fire. He passed it to Bones first before cutting himself a piece, putting it over the fire, "Grim name...not from Alvadas are you?" He looked at his companion across the fire, edging the bear skull to his side and cracking his neck. "Malediction, you practice it as well then...huh? I can offer you some of the other bones I took from the carcass, maybe we can learn a thing or two from each other before the night is gone."

He grinned across the embers wolfishly, almost monstrous by the contrasting shadows on his face. "Do you practice any other kind of magic? I'm told I should be wary of wizards...but should wizards be wary of themselves?"

[Ssafirsotibones]

Once Bones finished with a small whole to put the fire in, and keep it out of the wind, which might blow it out, he grabbed a handful of dead leaves, and placed them in the middle of the fire. The rest of the pile of wood fuel was also within hands reach, besides the log. Taking out the flint and steel, he struck it over the dead leaves. He struck once.. Twice.. Three times, and finally some sparks caught the leaves. But they burnt to quickly, and went out again. Leaning down low, and covering the leaves with his body as a wind shield, he struck it again, catching them aflame. Leaning low he blew on them, hard enough to bring them to life, but not so hard as to kill the burgeoning flames. Keeping the flames covered, he grabbed some twigs, and threw a few over the burning leaves. After a few minutes, he had the twigs burning, and added some more, along with a branch. Finally he had a good blaze going, and added a log to the flame. Getting up, he walked a bit off to admire his work, and his new flames he had given life to... At the same time, unbeknownst to him, Wrenmae was also inspecting him. He did not have to many tells, and only one scar, one on his upper arm from were he was gored by a wild boar he was hunting... Besides that his body was more or less free of major blemishes. Bones watched as the man speared some hunks of meat over the fire, and watched him ruin the meat... Why did humans always have to do that? If he wanted to eat something cooked, he would not be out hunting right now... "No, I am not from Alvadasss..." Bones answered vaguely... Obviously he was not keen to tell his life story, or to tell his roots. There were to many prejudices against his kind already. Not that telling the man would reveal what he was, since dhani's were not exactly common knowledge. They were rare enough that few knew of them, or were able to tell them unless they were in snake form... Of course there were some rumors and myths about them, but few were true or descriptive beyond calling them giant snake men who ate everything alive. "Yesss.... I do practice malediction... Ssough I am only of limited ssskillsss... Ssough if I am to use ssem... I need to know how it died... Or else I will not be able to properly ussse it... Ssso what were sse circumssstancesss were it died?" Bones did make a good point, something that did not come up in other magics. Were as in magecrafting and alchemy all that mattered was the thing being used, in malediction the spirit of the creature and the item came into effect... And if the thing in question was tried to be used for an effect that did not fit with how it died, then it might not do an effect any were near what was the target... So if it died in one way, and you tried to use it for something of the opposite... It would not do as well, or would only pretend even to do its effect... "No, I do not practice any osser magic, I never have learned anyssing else yet... Yesss wizardsss ssshould be feared, asss many lossse ssere mind trying to become more powerful... Which isss why I ssstay clear of sssuch tempting power..." Turning to the man, he looked at him once more. "You are not one of thossse cowardsss, one who fightsss with magic are you? I underssstand usssing magic to help, and to assssist in battle... But ssose cowardly fire and earss ssrowersss, ssossse fightersss ssat do not even face ssere foe face to face with ssere body or blade, but with ssere unworthy magic... Ssey do not deserve to be called men... You do not ussse ssat do you?"

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae smiled, his answer was vague, only ascertaining a fact that was easy to guess. No, this man was not from Alvadas and did not grow in the shifting streets of chaos. He might have spent time there, but Ionu touched her citizens with a certain mystery and poise that outsiders could not emulate. Wrenmae was one of them, a stranger in a large city trying to get his bearings. Now he was sharing a firelight vigil with a man he had never seen before, the hissing slither of something in his tone.

He had met one like him before, that faint hint of a hiss in tone...a Dhani on the road between here and Lhavit. She'd been from farther though, her skin the copper color of a baking son. Yahnessavhanet...or something like that, a long name with too many 's's and hissing syllables. He'd seen her in the night, her transformation, the way scales clustered along her skin and body...the speed in which she moved, the light behind her eyes, hooded lamp-light.

Was he similar? Her certainly spoke with far less guarded sibilant hisses, but it could easily be a speech impediment. Dhani were something a legend in Alvadas. Few knew the specifics of their kind and as there was little way to discover them from their human form, no one asked. Wrenmae, wisely perhaps, kept this opinion to himself. If Bones was indeed, a Dhani, he might react violently to the revelation...maybe even try to kill him.

That would not do at all.

"Magic is a means to an end," Wrenmae answered him, a means of disagreeing without simply saying it, "I would say a man with a sword or bow can be just as dangerous, and in this world, just as capable of losing their minds. We pick and choose our weapons, Bones, and sometimes not all of us use the stone and steel available to us."

He chuckled, splashing water on the bones he'd collected and taking the skull in both hands, turning it around to face his companion. Firelight played off the circle carved in the skull, hollowing out the the jagged notch where Wrenmae's dagger had claimed the bear's life. "Got him in the skull, almost got me too...but I guess that's the risk we take out here." He carried a secret as well, the Hypnotism he had called on to draw the animals in close. It was hard, as the fire roared and swirled it almost took on different shapes...shadows whispered to him in foreign tongues, he could taste copper blood in his mouth.

Shaking it away, like trying to dislodge a clinging idea, Wrenmae smiled and nudged a femur over to Bones. "I chose power for the head, the confidence of a bear might be useful, don't you think? You could always carve power into the femur or the shoulder bone, maybe it would give you some of the bear's strength?" He shrugged, not completely sure how all this Malediction worked. It was difficult to manage, certainly, and the effects were unpredictable. Even so, the allure of the magic itself was enough to keep him practicing. He could do little else.

He eyed Bones as he gathered the claws at his feet, picking up each in turn and examining them for cracks or stress points that would make them unsuitable for use. "If you're talking about a reimancer, no, I am not one...and I doubt anyone would want to be one, the initiation is absolutely monstrous." He remembered the book he'd read...the pain.

He shivered.

"I use my dagger, if I have to, but I'm not all that skilled in it...or using my hands." He held them out, clenching and relaxing them. "Never had enough money to buy a teacher, and I'd kill myself in that coliseum they have going on back in Alvadas...so I'll just have to hope I don't get into a fight huh?"

[Ssafirsotibones]

Bones settled in for a moment to listen to the other mans response, and gently pulled the stick out of the ground which held the chunk of meat over the flame. He did not want to let it cook to long and ruin it, though to be honest his preferred way was to eat it raw. But he had waited long enough to make it look like he just enjoyed very rare meat, as he did not want to reveal his snake nature if he did not have to. There was no telling how he might react if he did... Most likely with anger and fear, and possibly violence... And he tried to avoid senseless killing if he could, as Caiyha would want him to... Though that thought alone was a bit odd for a Dhani... Most Dhani, especially constrictor like himself worshiped Siku first, and Caiyha as an afterthought... But Bones felt little kindred nature to the violent for violence sakes deity... No he felt much closer to the Goddess of Nature... Killing only to live, not wasting... Though perhaps for Wrenmae it was better for him that he worshiped this much more friendly deity than Siku... Also making it much more likely that he would leave the encounter alive... Bones took a big bite out of the meat, which was still red, and some blood dribbled down from his face as he did. He took another bite as he listened to his response, stabbing it back into the ground and swallowing before responding. "Clearly we sssee ssis differently... But I have not ssseen to many men have ssere mind taken, or lose ssere sssensssesss from ssswinging a blade to often or hard... Everyssing in moderation is my rule... But magic is much more addictive ssan the call of blood and battle... And ssough a man might grow to love to fight... Rarely doesss one have a need to do it... Mossst jussst fight to better them ssself, or when sse need arisssesss..." As Bones listened to the next part, he wondered for a bit on the mans honesty... It was one thing to avoid the truth, but to tell an outright lie was another... He could not imagine how what he said was the truth, that he killed it by a blow to the head... He had fought bears before, and had rarely gotten away unscratched... But this man did not even have a ripped or torn clothes on him, and the only wound on the bear seemed to be on the head, or at least from what he had seen when he arrived... It just did not seem likely... Especially considering the man had just admitted to not be very skilled with fighting... Certainly something he was not saying was going on... But Bones smiled at the mans obvious and straightforward desire for magic... Power... But there was more to things than power... Just because it was what was desired did not make it what was best for you... And the power within the dead they claimed with there magical art... It could do much more than just increase ones obvious abilities... "I will take a leg bone.... It will better sssuit my purposssesss... Maybe in its deass by a human, I can use it to better ssspeed me away from the sssame fate.... Sssurely it hasss fought and avoided many a man in the passst... And I did not just mean elemental magic... Ssere are other ssingsss which sssimilarly are usssed to fight in your place, to avoid a direct conflict and fight asss a coward, killing by magic..." It might have been interesting for Bones to know the truth, to know how the bear truly had been killed... Surely he would feel it would be monstrous for this man to kill a beast without allowing it to defend itself, to not let it honor itself by a final fight of valor... To kill it through trickery and enchantments... "Asss for fighting, I am reasssonably ssskilled... I have fought in the colissseum many a time, and come out victoriousss... If you would like we could have a little friendly ssspar... Jussst to sssharpen our ssskills... I have ssskill in both blade and fist..."

[Wrenmae]

Men wore different lives like quilted mysteries. Some donned the mantle of a warrior for a time, living by the bloodstained blade from body to body. Others discarded such hefty robes for the veneer of a politician, alighting gracefully from issue to issue, words traded as a gold currency of success. Tonight Wrenmae wore the storyteller and Bones wore the warrior. Different in background and purpose they sat across from each other and danced around truth.

Revealing his methods now would be perilous, and Wrenmae poked the fire with a stick rather than answer outright. Magic was obviously a sensitive subject for Bones, not necessary one that Wrenmae wanted to test his tolerance on. "Your ideas of cowardice and mine are different," he said at last, glancing over the fire as the light hooded his eyes, "You excel physically, but not all of us were born with such a fine physique. I've seen men go mad at the sight of blood, desperate to spill it again, and you seem to have perhaps seen a mage do the same. Our experiences color our perspectives differently...but it's hard to say which one of us is right, moreso that we' both live differently."

He was sure his companion wasn't human, or at least did not fully view himself of that particular race. The details were in his words, not in the hissing syllables he drew out, but more the words he used. 'Human' was not really a word thrown around much in a circle of like species. Man was Humanity's arrogant way of assuming their gender was the purest, the most correct. Certainly who would argue? Humanity outnumbered the other races of Mizahar vastly, so calling oneself a 'man' rather than a 'human' should never really be considered an affront.

But the way Bones had said the bear was killed by 'human', revealed two things. First, that Bones could not really be a human to use the word so carelessly, and two...that he was confident enough in his senses to know Wrenmae for a human as well.

After all, neither had been so forward on their species.

Only names.

Stretching, Wrenmae settled back against the rock and took up the Bear skull again. It sat heavy in his hands, a ponderous object. He'd have to carry it, really. Fashioning it into something was beyond his ability. Rapping it with his knuckles he considered a helmet, but such a macabre thing of bone would provide little defense and a lot of raised eyebrows.

Ultimately, he had chosen poorly in his first maledicted item from this corpse.

Setting it aside, Wrenmae drew his dagger and stood, stretching again as his shadow danced across the back of fire. It was a ploy, or at least, seemed one. Bones would take an assessment of Wrenmae's ability through combat, a means to convince himself the veracity of his claim of killing the bear or not.

Not that Wrenmae claimed it had been done with raw skill, more the surprise of a moment...but even so.

No doubt suspicion was taking an alternate course...clever to offer a spar and practice to a man who claimed he had little ability in combat. Of course, if things got dangerous, he would do his best to escape. For now, however, the prospect of also gauging his companion, the truth of his species...if any, was something that brought the young storyteller a mixture of excitement and fear.

A perfect combination.

"Before we begin Malediction," he said, thrusting through the air a few times experimentally, "I'll take you up on your spar...with weapons or without?"

The meat wasn't done cooking yet, although Bones had already savored a piece. It was likely he just enjoyed the meat bloody, not all that suspicious for a mountaineer...but heaped on Wrenmae's other suspicions, it seemed almost bestial.


"I'm fairly poor at both blade and fist, but perhaps you could show me a trick or two?"

[Ssafirsotibones]

"Who sssaysss only one of usss can be right? It isss the way of sse world ssat we are each right in our own way... The one who isss right isss sse one to tell sse tale afterwardsss... Ssso who isss right isss not asss important asss the messssage itssself..." This of course was more of Bones odd philosophy. He was always going on about something, telling something he saw as a universal truth that held across any reference... Which was his way of measuring a truth, that even though you put it in different situations, and applied it to different things, it still held true. It was by these philosophies that he lived, fought, and did everything. "You misssunderssstand, I do not find all magic abhorrent... Sssay a man usssesss magic to ssshape ssshift into a beassst, I believe ssere isss a magic ssat can do ssat, and fightsss sseir foe? Ssat isss not to be assshamed of. In ssat way ssey could take ssem on asss ssey chossse, but it isss ssstill sseir body, even if dissstorted. Anyssing ssey do isss ssstill ssem... But if ssat sssame perssson usssed magic, and in a ssstorm made sseir ssship sssink and drowned ssem, or usssed magic to make the captain crasssh... Ssey did not face sseir foe, but fought cowardly... Ssat isss what I mean by cowardly magic..." Funnily enough Bones had not been trying to use fighting as a ploy, though it made sense why Wrenmae would think so. It was perhaps because of his own view from being a human that he would think so. But that had long since passed from Bones mind, he was simply wondering of the mans strength, if he was another unskilled human who could not fight, or if he was not a weakling... Though he had met so few humans that were not... No he just wanted to test his skills against another opponent, better to do it know in a reasonably safe way, than in a more dangerous way against a foe that was clearly wishing him ill. "I sssuppossse we could ssstart with bladesss... And later move on to with our fissstsss... " Bones stood up and flexed a bit, stretching out his body. Taking out his gladius, he turned to look at Wrenmae, looking at him in the odd flickering light coming from the campfire and lamp... He held his weapon at the ready in front of him, and situated his feet with a wide stance of strength. He kept his body loose and liquid, like a snake, keeping it ready to move in whatever way he needed it to. He would wait a bit for Wrenmae to get ready, and prepare, and then he would move in with a slash across the chest, though not nearly at full force, and not really expecting it to land. Surely he would block, redirect, or evade it.