Completed [Quest] Into The Mountains

[Draven]

The woman had sounded kind, very kind, and Draven had already taken a liking to her. She had told him that she was not a fighter, but he never thought so anyway: the man at her side had all the 'fight' they needed. 'Why are you here?' He had expected the question, being a ghost and all, but he had not prepared an answer. He did not need preparation; he knew very well why had joined them. ' I want to live the live the life that I was never able to,' he said, still smiling. He had to wait quite some time, for the rest of their party to arrive. A second longer, and he might have possessed the non-terrifying man after all: boredom and Draven hardly mixed well. Yet they had arrived, all three of them. He had sighed: 'more serious knights.', and wondered why adventures only seemed to attract the most borish of men. "It'll be about a day and a half's journey to our destination, so I hope you brought supplies for the journey. Now, without any further distraction, let's get moving." He had chuckled: such a distance would take him less than 2 hours, hitchhiking in his raven's body... but that would hardly be adventurous, would it? Now wondering whether he would call for his raven, he noticed the bird already flying towards them, circling around his head. 'You're not gonna let me do this without you, will you?' he whispered softly. INFOShort post/ I don't mind a timeskip either ... though fair warning: my PC will be a tad obnoxious during the trip, singing lousy adventuring songs and such

[Razkar]

He couldn't help it. He knew they were his allies, and later most likely his comrades in battle. He had no reason to bear them ill-will not hatred, but when they appeared from around the corner, proud and erect and gleaming with weapons and armor, a well-honed aspect of the Myrian's mind just switched into gear.

And Razkar thought of how he would kill the Knights.

The leader, in the center, Razkar identified as such by his age; easily older than the two flanking him. He wore lighter armor and had but one weapon... yet Razkar frowned. The lack of arms was not so much a sign of weakness, but more of other strengths. The burn on his face... a mage, perhaps? A tenuous idea, but as his calm black coals took in the mounted man and his words, other thoughts snapped across his minds, cruel and clinical as a striking predator.

Possible mage, definite leader. Ranged ability likely. Target first: deny djed in battle, demoralize subordinates. Lighter armor; kill with thrown ax or kukri. Range... not a problem.

His two friends were more what the Myrian had imagined and, indeed, seen around Syliras plenty of times before. Plate armor, metal helmets, chainmail and large, tested and well-maintained weapons. He blinked, hands falling to the bone hilts of his weapons out of habit, caressing the Malediction runes carved into them.

Plate armor: problematic. Target joints, face slit, armpits. Better option: kill spearman's horse and pin him under it. Claymore-wielder will need more time to draw weapon; kill him while spearman is trapped... gladius under armpit when he reaches over shoulder for claymore.

"Alright, you all know why we are here. Some bastards up in the hills are making life difficult for our merchants. And we like our merchants. So when they are upset, so are we. So now, we gotta go kick these guys' arses!"

A strong, clear voice cut through his pleasant mental exercise and Razkar shook his head, focusing on the task at hand. No time for daydreaming. He listened in silence and saw no need to comment; he knew what his job was before he even arrived at the Gates, and paid no heed to clarify further. But...

"It'll be about a day and a half's journey to our destination, so I hope you brought supplies for the journey. Now, without any further distraction, let's get moving."

Then the Myrian's face folded almost comically, dark eyebrows crushing his eyes as he frowned and found himself snarling softly in annoyance. The hulking knight that wielded that great-sword glared at him briefly, suspecting a problem, but just muttered Edreina instead.

"Shyke! I forgot rations..." He blinked rapidly as the party stirred, their odd little group of humans, Svefra, knights a Myrian and a ghost. A season ago Razkar would have been fascinated by the shade; now, after meeting Fubuki both socially and enraged, he was less impressed. "Have to hunt on way there. Or wait to find bandits. Take their food."

A smile crawled across his lips, a return of the Razkar the Svefra knew of old. He patted the handle of his blades, as if petting it.

"They will not need."

The knights called for movement and three years of instinctive obedience to his military commanders moved Razkar far more than his own will did. He untied Mrrko and reflected that the night-clad beast would probably eat better than he would. A chuckle escaped his throat as he patted the gelding's flank.

"Lucky horse..." Then a change came over his face again; some softness and concern that a few of the barbarians found surprising. He sighed and tied the horse back up. "Stay here. Knights take care of you until I come. They feed. Too dangerous, my friend."

Razkar noted Edreina's puzzlement and leaned closer keeping his words for her alone.

"I know seems strange, not take horse. But bandits? Think luck is why knights not find them? Or cave? No. Think because they have look out. They see us coming. Maybe make ambush. And man on horse is always better target that man walking." His eyes flashed to the erect and mounted heroes of Syliras. "So let them be target. Horse not help in cave, either..."

Razkar straightened and his hands flew over his body, smoothly touching each item, each weapon as he counted off in his head. Satisfied after a few moments, he locked his black eyes into the steady ones of Ser Tylor.

"Ready when you ready."

OOCAs Razkar says, ready when you are!

[ViKtoricus]

ViKtoricus notices that the group is about ready to go. He plans on bringing his donkey with him, his nameless donkey whom he has yet to name. Perhaps he should name him Bruce. A common human name. But then, he wonders if the name Bruce would be appropriate for a donkey name. And then he realized, who the hell cares? It's just a fricking donkey.

He then felt his metal buckler, his family heirloom. Much stories have been told to him of the experiences of this buckler in his stepfamily, the fights it's been in, the fights it endured. He'd probably use his shield more than his sword, using it to bash opponents to death as opposed to just using it as a blocking weapon. It's a heavy weapon, perfect for his heavy, strong build. He prefers to ram his way through his opponents rather than being a subtle swordsman, even though he does have a sword.

He takes a look at Razkar. He thinks he looks a little weird. And if he be honest to himself, he'd admit that he is quite intimidated by the guy. Normally, he is only intimidated by guys who are more buff than him (not that he himself is very buff), but the tattoos, the scars, the haircut. They add up into this menacing countenance befitting a wild animal who's about to eat you alive.

ViKtoricus wonders what on earth the girl who's with him sees in him. He doesn't seem attractive, as far as human standards, as far as ViK's opinion. He would very much like to steal this girl from this beastlike human just to tick him off.



OOCI'm stealing your girl, Myrian.

[Emblem]

The Kabrin Road was quite beautiful this time of the year. The leaves of the trees were a bright green, and the sun's morning light pierced through the tree line wonderfully. Birds could be heard singing their song all around the party. Squirrels and chipmunks danced among the trees, while other wildlife remained out of sight from the party. But the call from a stag commonly echoed throughout the forest. The Bronze Wood Wood were brimming with wildlife and common folk alike. Merchants and travelers were scattered across the Kabrin Road, traveling in both directions. Hunter's prowled within the woods, while Syliran Knights patrolled every corner of the area surrounding Syliras. In the distance, straight ahead of the party, was the looming and pale Cobalt Mountains, their destination. Within the mountains hid beautiful vistas, pristine lakes, untouched forests, and uncharted caves. A slight breeze rolled across Ser Tylor's exposed face. The man sighed as he kept his gaze set ahead of the him. The other two knights rode in silence, contemplating exactly what was waiting for them in those peaks. And with every step towards those looming mountains, there was an evergrowing sense of nervousness among them. The mountains hid many things, and they didn't like surprises. ------That Night------ The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only a faint glow to illuminate the wilderness. And even that would soon be gone. The party had arrived at a spot just off of the Kabrin Road, before it began winding into the mountains. The party stood in a small clearing, a perfect stop for a camp. The three knights dismounted their mounts and tied them to nearby trees. Ser Ayden pulled a few vegetables from his bag and fed the animals. He also stroked their manes while he did so. Ser Mat and Ser Tylor began setting up a camp. Ser Mat disappeared into the woods for 15 chimes, and came back with his arms full of sticks and kindling to be used for a fire. He set his bounty on the ground and arranged a sort of fire pit, before pulling his flint and steel out. "Come on you petching thing. Just light!" Mat said as he tried to get a spark. "Come one! Come one!!" Finally a spark managed to land in the kindling and light the fire. "Thank Gods..." Ser Mat sighed. "You know...I could have lit that pretty easily for ya..." Ser Tylor chuckled. "Oh...right...whatever it's lit now." Ser Tylor laughed again as he got his bed roll out and placed it near the fire. He reached into his bag and pulled some food out to cook. He sat on his cushion near the fire, trying to cook his meal over an open flame. As he cooked, Ser Tylor turned to the rest of the party, "We are gonna rest here tonight. So eat, get some sleep, and get ready for tomorrow. Because tomorrow, well, be prepared to fight. With any luck you will all be back in Syliras day after tomorrow..." As the party prepared their camps, the faint glow disappeared. In the sky now were nothing but a sea of stars, exposed by a perfectly clear sky. The night sky was an absolute marvel. Throughout the woods, lights flared up and then suddenly disappeared. Fireflies. They were surrounded by the little glowing bugs. Nature never quite ceased to amaze.

OOCAlright I never got a response from Ehati, so I am moving this forward. Sorry for that delay. Feel free to reply and have some interactions or what have you. This will probably be the last time that you have a good opportunity to talk among yourselves, as with my next post we are meeting our bandit friends. Alrighty, thank you for your patience everyone!

[Edreina]

When she learned that they would be spending the night among the trees and noises of woods of the forest, Edreina nearly raised a fuss. Everything about their campground was utterly foreign and rather nerve wracking to the Svefra: she could not see for miles as she would be able upon the open sea, the animals here were strange to her, their individual dangers unknown, even the earth itself felt wrong. This was no beach with warm, shifting sands, perfect to sleep upon; the ground here was hard and covered in plant life, not at all suitable for sleep. She would have been more comfortable had they chosen to spend the night in the caves. But, her discomfort quickly settled into being naught but an angry nudging in her belly as the camp settled down for the night. With a sigh, Edreina moved towards a large, round tree and took up a seat at its base. Yes... This would be okay. Edreina could sleep against this uncut mast, for it was the most familiar thing she could find upon the non-shifting earth. Her boots were quickly pried from her aching feet, pack set aside until she drew out her rations. Her whip, however, remained about her hips after a thoughtful hand had spent nearly a bell upon it, contemplating where it would best be left. Chewing on a piece of dried meat, Edreina set to unbinding her hair, then retying it with the flashing strip of yellow cloth. The new braid would likely last only until morning, but it would keep her hair from becoming too tangled to be manageable. Its red length twisted and turned and seemed to dance in the firelight despite her stillness. When her rations were consumed, she repacked her bag, spelunking supplies easiest to access at the top. And then, something caught her eye. It was a flash of light, so small she nearly thought that it to be her imagination. And then, just feet away, there was another flash. And then there were more flashes, little flickers of light all about too big to be stray embers from the fire. What were they? Edreina had risen to her feet without thinking, making her way around the fire towards the lights before the consideration had even crossed her mind. Her motions were slow, nearly silent, as she attempted to creep up on the strange lights. Each step was longer, arms raised slightly for balance, blue eyes rapt by the continuing flashes. One flashed right before her, and the redhead lunged forward, hands clapping together- But she came away empty handed. The light, it seemed, was nothing more than something intangible, a freak of nature likely native to the land. Her frustration rose alongside her curiosity, and it seemed to her as if neither would be sated.

[Razkar]

Razkar had barely spoken during their trek from civilization to wilderness, and judging by his party, that was no great loss to them. The knights had predictably stayed to themselves; the motley crew of bounty hunters had done similar, all outcasts or alphas in their own ways and unused to interactions.

But now the march was done, and as Syna sighed to her rest between the jagged peaks of the Cobalt Mountains, a rough camp was set up, simple and small. A fire had been made - and damned if watching the knight cuss and struggle wasn't good entertainment - giving them light and a means to dine.

Razkar has rustled and dug around in his pack until... ah... yes, there was some left.

A hung of Dhani meat sizzled on the end of a stick over the fire, the Myrian's black eyes focused eagerly on it as fat congealed, melted, cooked his trophy and his rations for his meal. His eyes flickered around occasionally, taking in their alternately relaxing and socializing company.

But his gaze lingered more on the Svefra than anyone else. Edreina had most likely never been so far deep onto dry land, and even walking so long on dirt and stone had seemed strange to her. Razkar had actually steadied her once or twice as she wobbled in a queer way; as if she was expecting some roll of the ground like the deck of a ship, but her body had been disappointed.

Still... there were good points... and as the darkness descended but there was just enough patina of vanishing light to provide a backdrop for the sight, he saw the Departed come out to dance.

"Do not hurt them."

The fiery-haired Svefra turned with a frown at the Myrian's stern words, finding a frown with a small smile under it as he looked her way. His eyes wandered past her and to the dancing, ever-changing points of gold that shimmered around them. His gaze softened a touch, gaze glazing over in memory.

"My mother told me, when I was young, that lights are departed souls. Not Children of Myri; we go to Her when we die, come back again. Other souls. Older. Tigers. Old races, before us... killed by us."

A few looks were leveled at his direction when he so casually mentioned what was basically genocide, but Myrians saw no shame or horror in such pogroms. Falyndar forced the strong to thrive and the weak to extinction; that was the way of it, and Razkar saw no dishonor in his ancestors actions, nor his own.

But even in victory and death, there was still some small clemency.

"Souls stay in jungle, live there and make light for Caiyha, for Children of Myri at night. Used to swat them when I was a boy. My mother, she beat me. Told me to respect dead, let them rest." He snorted softly, shaking his head and a smile so strange and terribly beautiful bloomed on sharpened teeth. "Learn when I grow up they are... bug. Like beetle. But have light in... ah... rear. So some say are not dead, but just bug."

He shrugged, turning over his dinner and glancing at Edreina.

"Why not be both, hmm?"

A snort from somewhere around the fire. His eyes darted up at the... tone of it. And there was one. Amused, incredulous verging on mocking the savage with his bizarre superstitions and his broken Common. Razkar swept a clam gaze over them all, lingering a little on the lumbering Vik-something that had been glaring at him on and off throughout the march.

Let them think what they want. They know not the jungle, nor the glory and light of Myri.

The smoke and smell from the meat told him that it was done, or done enough for one accustomed to his dinner almost raw. He tentatively took it from above the flames and bit into it, lips peeled back to avoid burning himself, chewing thoughtfully... nodding his satisfaction.

"Want some?"

[Edreina]

As Razkar had been explaining the little creatures, one decided to alight upon Edreina's forearm. Turns out, as Razkar explained, the little thing was, in fact, a beetle of some sort. It was black with an odd rear end that resembled glass. As the Svefra leaned closer to examine the little being, its arse began to glow like a captured star. Hmm... Maybe these were just little stars that had not flown high enough yet. They surely twinkled like stars... As the thing flew away, Edreina found her interest lost now that they were no longer a mystery. What began to consume Edreina's mind was the fighting that was sure to come. Deep down, she was terrified that she would not make it through the night. The woods were unfamiliar territory and, judging by the stories about the bandits, they knew these woods rather well. What if they saw the fire and decided to fall upon them in the night? Even a Myrian would be vulnerable as he slept. Myrian. Edreina's eyes turned to Razkar as he offered her some of his food, head cocking to the side as she sniffed the air delicately. Whatever he was offering was foreign to her; she had never smelled such an aroma. But, her stomach was as full as she liked for it to be, so she declined his offer with a smile and a shaking head. Despite that, she continued to study her friend with dancing blue eyes. He had survived so many battles, so much killing. Was it all because of his skill, or because he was a follower of the goddess Myri? Laviku was everything to every Svefra, father and provider and eventually, the harbinger of their demise. But, other gods and goddesses were still worshipped. Personally, Edreina sent prayers to Leth, Kihala, Xyna - as any good Whitewave should - Zulrav, and Makutsi. Myri, however, had held no place among her prayers. But now, her life was changing. As she continued to learn how to fight from Razkar... the more she began to wonder if she should send prayers to Myri. Would I even be heard? Incredibly abruptly, Edreina walked over to Razkar and fell down to her knees, sitting on her heels, hands fiddling nervously in her lap. There was nothing she could do but ask. "T-teach me. Teach me how to praise Myri..." Self-consciousness quickly closed the woman's throat, causing her to trail off near the end, voice becoming a whisper, guileless blue eyes searched black pools. Would worshipping Myri make her a better warrior? Or would it just increase her lust for blood... What if Raz did not want to teach her? She was not, after all, Myrian... Would this be seen as an intrusion upon his culture? With a sigh, Edreina averted her gaze towards the fire, chewing on the inside of her cheek, preparing to be reprimanded.

[Razkar]

The Myrian watched her for a long time. Long enough for it to become more than a gaze and for the kneeling Svefra to feel... studied. Scrutinized. Weight and measured. She assumed it was because Razkar was deciding whether or not to allow the barbarian privy to the ways of his race, and far more than that, the means of worship for their most hallowed deity.

She would have been close. But not quite.

"Watch. Listen. Learn."

That was all he said. She watched him go through his possessions in the rucksack, finally coming out with a simple clay bowl. Razkar ignored the glances and uncomfortable shifting from the rest of them; even if he gave two tugs of a dead dog's cock about their opinions of him, all those present were, ostensibly, warriors.

If offerings to Myri were not acceptable tonight, the world was flat-out insane.

He planted the bowl before himself as he knelt down, mirroring her own form. The campfire lit up his body beautifully but eerily: every scar seemed fresh and large, the tattoos danced and the piercings in his face seemed to shift and wriggle.

Razkar's eyes met hers as he held out his right hand over the bowl... then drew his kukri... and cut a neat gash in the palm with only a slight tensing of his jaw.

"Now listen. Carefully."

He breathed in again, eyes focused on the dripping crimson that was slowly filling the bowl, the campfire suddenly silent save for the crackling wood, the faint smack of blood on clay, and Razkar's low, clear words in Common.

"Goddess... ancestors... hear my words tonight... words I bring... with humble offering... from my own body..."

Even though they came out as if he was in some trance, Razkar's mind raced around the wording like it was an enemy (blasphemous though the thought was to him). Edreina was not blessed by Myri as he was, so certain part needed to be amended. But the broad strokes? Yes... Yes, he could translate them.

"Goddess... look on my weapon with favor... know I will claim scalp and life for you... will send the souls of warriors... will make cause for you to rejoice..."

He clenched his fist over the bowel and there was a brief spurt of scarlet into it... and then it stopped. His eyes almost glowed in the first, obsidian stones lit by orange and red, and his words seemed more like a growl that a prayer.

"Goddess Myri... Ancestors... I will prove me worthy as warrior... and grant you victory..."

What was said was said, and without pause the Myrian picked up the bowl and held it to the stars above him, to the lean, cruel, beautiful visage he knew was watching from far above and further away.

"This is vow. This is prayer I make to Goddess of War and Victory..."

And he drank every drop, until a single thread of blood worked its way down his cheek. Razkar locked his eyes on Edreina's once again, extending his kukri with one hand, and the empty but still-stained bowl with his other.

"Now you, Edreina."

[Edreina]

"Now listen. Carefully." Despite her revulsion, Edreina managed to do so. Each word was locked away in the part of her mind that only seemed to appear in the most serious of situations. She would not forget this prayer, partially out of fear of offending Myri, but also out of an obsession with doing anything that mattered properly. She would be offended if one were to toss a fish into the sea with a simple "Hail Laviku", so she owed both Razkar and his goddess... their goddess?... the same respect. Gods bless her, Edreina managed to hold onto her composure until the very end. Until Razkar put the bowl to his lips and began to consume his own blood. It was so... perverse to the redhead who swallowed thickly at the sight, fighting to maintain control of her innards. As his cheek was marked by his own life-blood, the redhead found herself watching the way the fire seemed to make his blood appear animate, as if the prayer had imbued it with some form of power beyond what it innately held. "Now you, Edreina." In a bit of a daze, she reached forward and took both objects from him, setting the bowl carefully in front of her, centered between her knees. The kukuri's foreign weight seemed to be multiplied in Edreina's clammy hand, causing her grip to tense and then relax several times. Blue eyes examined her own calloused hand for several chimes in silence as she mentally prepared herself, studying the way that the firelight played across its calloused surface. With one final glance up at Razkar, Edreina realized that no amount of preparation could truly make her ready for this... ordeal. Truly that was what it would be to her. Every word would be questioned, reviewed even as it left her lips out of fear of skipping some crucial step, of accidentally blaspheming the fierce goddess's name. A sigh left her lips only to be recalled in a quick but quiet his of pain as she slid the cold steel across her hand, hand tensing the moment after the cut was made despite how she begged it to remain loose. Hot, sticky blood gushed from the wound in terrifying amounts, making the redhead suddenly go as pale as a Nuit. For several ticks, her heartbeat echoed through her ears, in time with each burst of blood from her hand. After what felt like an entire night of silence, she began to speak, Fratavan lilt coming out so strong that it made her words resemble a song. "Goddess... ancestors... h-hear m-my words... tonight..." Her voice trembled with uncertainty as she forced herself to keep from looking to Razkar for a nod that she was doing right so far. "These words I bring, with humble offering... from my own body..." Abruptly, the tremble left her words. She sighed out the last part of that line, feeling her body relax as a sudden sense of rightness claimed her. "Goddess, please look on my weapon with favor, know I will defeat foe, and claim life... for you. I will send to you the souls of warriors. I will give you reason to rejoice." Despite how she had changed the words, Edreina felt an something odd growing just beneath her heart. Starting ever so slightly, closing her hand to stem the flow of blood into the bowl, she realized it was the sense of justification she had always sought when sparring with Razkar, when learning the best way to end someone's life. The sense that if someone decided to cross blades, fists, or even whips with her, they were willingly staking their own life. It was not that she would have to seek out violence, but that when it came to her, she should be properly prepared. It was only right to know how to defend oneself, even if that meant removing the danger for good. "Goddess Myri, Ancestors... I will prove myself worthy as warrior, and I will grant you victory..." Without hesitation, Edreina lifted the small bowl filled with her own blood towards Leth, knowing that far away, the same ivory eye was shining down upon her new matron, Myri, the Goddess-Queen of War and of Victory. When she pressed the bowl to her lips and began to drink, her throat did not seize at the thick, copper-tasting warmth that spilled down it. Instead, she suddenly felt revitalized, as if, as unlikely as it was, the faraway goddess was both pleased and surprised by the actions of the heathen. Swallowing the last droplets of her own blood, an indescribable feeling danced through the Svefra's veins. In later days, she would only be able to describe it as a sudden warmth, a sudden... light spilling through her limbs, awakening them and giving them purpose. Without realizing that her eyes had drifted shut, Edreina abruptly came to realize that being a great warrior did not mean that one looked to take lives, simply that they were able to do so and continue on with their life. By praising Myri, Edreina no longer felt that taking a life was a needless shame, but that she did it to please her goddess. When fathomless blue orbs were revealed once more, a feral sort of light danced within them, reminiscent of the flame that had consumed Edreina during her earliest spars. This flame, however, had been harnessed and given purpose, transformed into a torch that illuminated her actions. For the first time, she was able to look upon Razkar with understanding. Without a word, she returned to him the bowl and the kukuri, hoping that the odd sort of smile that danced over her full, blood-stained lips would be one that he could easily understand. Just as Razkar's tattoos and piercings and scars seemed to come to life in the light of the dancing fire, Edreina became very much the same. Her freckled skin was more reminiscent of a jungle cat's spotted hide. The flickering light made her azure gaze seem to be all the more mysterious, all the more lethal. Sharp, proud cheekbones, though always a feature of her face, seemed to become more defined, more angled as the shadow beneath became all the more pronounced. Like the fire that illuminated it, her hair danced and swirled upon the slightest urging by the wind. Even so, the dramatic transformation lasted only for an instant before the normal, perpetually grinning Edreina Whitewave reappeared. She was different, yes, but it was the kind of different that left one better than before. Whispering her thanks, the Svefra nodded once more to her friend and then stood and returned to the tree she had chosen as her resting place. Once at her pack, she quickly found a spare scrap of linen large enough to bind her hand and settled down for the night. In the final chimes before sleep claimed her, the redhead licked her lips thoughtfully, attempting to wrap her head around whatever it was that had just happened.

[Razkar]

As the Svefra finished the simple ritual, Razkar's eyes never left her. He tried to keep the stern and unforgiving look from them, but it was so hard. This was... beyond the ken of most barbarians. He'd only seen one marked with Myri's favor since he'd left the jungle, and even though they had not exchanged words, he'd sensed that calm, deadly focus of a warrior in that strange male.

Eridanus had been worthy. But was Edreina? He'd never seen her fight, not in a spar but the chaotic desperation of true battle, where only one life out of two could survive. Would she rise to that challenge? Or would it overwhelm her?

The Myrian took back his blade and bowl, sheathed the one and carefully washed and towed the other. No words were exchanged, but one final flash of azure met his pitch gaze-

Razkar smiled. There was warmth there and... pride. Not just in her but in himself. Perhaps... just perhaps...

"Goddess... Myri... Mother of my people..."

He turned up his gaze to the riot of sparkles above them, words in an ancient and foreign tongue whispered to the points of light and all they hid.

"Watch over your son and this barbarian female on the morrow. Know that we shall strive in your name... and be worthy of your favor. I know not to ask it of you, Goddess-Queen. Strength and cunning and courage are born from within, not without... so know you shall see all, and this... new believer..."

Razkar looked down and smiled again at the sleeping Svefra, a mirror of that strange, hungry, dark stretching of golden lips that he had seen on his own Goddess-Queen when she'd gifted him with the gnosis that purred at the back of his neck at that moment.

Almost... whispering to him.

"... will prove worthy, under the eyes of your son, Razkar of the Shorn Skulls..."

Nothing more needed to be said. The Myrian laid out his cloak as a rough sleeping mat and as he reclined on his back, he spread out his weapons within easy reach. For long chimes he blinked at the slowly, slowly shifting and blinking stars above them. Worlds and peoples unfathomably far from them... almost like the gods themselves.

His gnosis flared again, and Razkar smiled.

Except one.

Tylor saw the fanged, dreamy smile the Myrian wore as his chest moved rhythmically, sleeping deep and guiltless. He frowned, then turned back to the fire.

He did not wish to dwell on those dreams...

OOCRead when you are, Emblem!