2rd Day of Winter, 516 AV.
22rd Bell, night.
22rd Bell, night.
Greetings Mizaharians! It has come to our attention that the Goddess Morwen has refused to do her duty this Season and walk forth from Avanthal...
Quzon stood alone in front of the Conclave trying his best to read the notice that had been posted there during the day. He stood there dressed in the armor he'd bought during the past seasons Zith Hunt. It gave him the dark silhouette of a man-bear since it was a cured hide that mimicked the appearance of a brown bear. He pulled the bear's head from where it hung behind him to rest like a proper helm on his head once he finished reading the notice.
The entire process of reading was an endeavor that caused the Myrian to mentally wince considering he could hardly read or speak common, but managed to understand the gist of the announcement.
When he turned around, the horse that pulled his wagon shook its head nervously. Prancing in place as if it were ready to run when Quzon began to walk towards it. The horse knew it was Quzon, but the fact that his was meant to help hunters blend in and actually smelt like a bear constantly kept the creature on edge.
He lifted a hand to run it along the hoses nose. "Steel yourself, Zokoztli. Don't be such a coward." He spoke to the Seme horse in Myrian, his words were mocking but the tone of his voice remained soothing to calm the creature. Quzon walked to the front of his wagon, placing his foot on a small step the lifted himself into the drivers seat.
He sat there for a moment contemplating what he had just read.
Inside Quzon a battle was constantly brewing. He felt it so succinctly deep inside of himself that it nearly fought over every breath he took. Most days, he was strong enough to ignore it. Or at least pretend that it wasn't there. It was a battle between rage and hollow contentment.
Between the two sides, what felt the most familiar, also felt predatory. When he wanted something, he wanted it with everything fiber of his being. And for no reason at all. On the days he felt the most hollow, he chose to fill the emptiness with the concept of power. So he did his best to become mighty by weightlifting. It was also supplemented even further as a religious act that tempered his rage.
But still, there where days in which he accepted the feeling that he was a monster. And after reading the notice, today was one of those days. He shouldn't have been glad. He shouldn't have been relieved.
To be happy about the death warrant placed on the entire Vantha race was a horrible thing; Quzon knew that. But this presented him with the opportunity to draw blood for the sake of blood letting. He longed for an enemy to fight. And now the gods of the Seasons saw fit to grant him one.
But were their any Vantha in Endrykas?
That was the question he asked himself as he looked to the sky. The moon was just starting to reach its midnight zenith, painting soft beams light of light over the clouds. It caused each cloud to take on a silver sheen through the sky, giving the outer linings the appearance of blue filigree. At the moment, It was a beautiful site that Quzon could have cared even less about.
"Come on, lets go." He spoke aloud to his hose, softly snapping the reins as a sign for Zokoztli to move forward. It was a good thing that the Myrian was in no rush considering the horse walked with the speed of a crawling baby. Quzon kept himself to the fringes of the city when he made his camps, so that was where his hoses wandered too.
Zokoztli began to trudge on faster without command, seemingly knowing where to head all on its own. Quzon felt that he was just there for the ride -which he was-, only adjusting the horses direction by shifting the reins when it looked like the creatures was about to wander, or to keep the stallion from stopping to graze.
This also meant that it took him forever to reach his destination, but it gave him the begrudging chance to grow acquainted with the cities layout along the way. He pulled the reins back to stop the wagon once he had exited a few chimes past the city proper.
"Welcome home." The empty words slipped from his lips as he reached back to grab his backpack, then jumped down from the seat. As he looked around, Quzon wasn't sure is he should be happy about the fact that he had never been so keenly aware of how much rattled around in his mind until he had set foot in Endrykas.
To keep his mind busy Quzon took in the details of his campsite: the spotted area of flattened grass, most likely made by grazing heard animals, no other sign of people around him save for a fresh set of fresh hoof prints that lacked the accumulation of dew like the others. As he stuck his hand into the backpack to rummage around for his flint & steel, Quzon looked out to see if he could find the horse who made them.
In truth, he didn't care about some Drykas riding around in the dark. But the thrill of the hunt tugged at his heart. If it was a Vantha, he'd have found a great hunt. If it was a Drykas, he would justify the night travel by gathering enough campfire tinder and material to cook a horse. Because fire was always a good thing.
He took inventory of himself to make sure he had all of his weapons and items before wandering out into the dark. Chakram around his neck, check. Hand ax on his belt, check. Hunting knife also on his belt, check. Backpack, Check. They were all there.
He walked over to his horse to loosen the straps that held it to the wagon in case it needed to run away for any reason. "I wish to hunt on foot tonight. Stay here." He stroked the side of the Seme's neck then ran off into the Sea of Grass.
