The Final Goodbye (Viskyia)

[Titus Crow]

1st Cycle Immanis, PF XV
Teardrop Chasm

The darkening descended with surprising speed in the Teardrop Chasm. Titus had sat at the edge of some canyon for the better part of the brightening in half meditation, half wistful recollections. A sense of dread had gripped the warrior monk for the better part of the last Era. This feeling first appeared when his hair turned white, followed by the noticeable decline in speed. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Growing old sucked.

Another lifetime lived, some battles won, many lost, but the war remained going. He simply wandered away as failing holy warriors are bound to do, lost in a overbearing 'what was it all this about?' mode of thinking. Had he done enough? Titus fell into a deep depression and began his final Holy Walk.

Two cycles had passed and Titus found himself at the Teardrop Chasm. The badlands fit his mood and he found himself lost in thought as he stared at the windswept boulders.

The darkening was clear and Titus laid down without a fire. He skipped dinner and decided it was best just to go to sleep. Soon he would find the Dark Swordsman and the burden of this life will lift and he would receive another chance.

Soon....soon....

And so the man drifted off in a deep slumber.

[Viskyia Crow]

Viskyia often thought of Titus. He, moreso than any man, was firmly in her heart. He was a father to her, but more than that a true friend. He'd taught her courage and had shown her the pathway to be more than what she actually was. They'd had many lives together, that much had been made clear during the Arium War when the Jorelites had wanted one last piece of The Monks of the White Crane and the Sisters of Keehavia Shores. Viskyia had been an Aslanite then, blindly following Titus on a pathway she hadn't understood and hadn't quite fit into. Now things were different though.... as she settled down to sleep on the straw pallet Amelia had provided for her before the fire, she fingered the ring with the words "Daedils" and then "Titusarov" and finally "Viskyia" etched on the inside and wondered if he was still alive... and where.

Citrine eyes closed, giving into the realm of Dreams, though there she wasn't a passive observer. Feathers sprouted from shoulders, form changed from half-esh to lionoid, as she cried with an eagle's scream into the sky and flung herself upwards. This night, she'd look, and hope that somewhere Titus was dreaming as well. It was only there she'd find him. Dream winds bore her aloft and she floated, traversing thermals that did not exist out past the boundaries of Zinn'Sunn to the snow swept landscape of the Outlands.

Close. So close. And she hadn't even known it. No more than ten wingbeats away, no more than a single scream or two into her journey, she found him. He was sitting on a ledge overlooking the Teardrop Chasm... meditating in his sleep. Backwinging, she carefully touched down a hind paw, then settled her massive form onto the arch of rock that swept up and over the Teardrop Chasm. She folded her wings with a snap and blinked Citrine eyes at the old monk. He looked tired, worn, and it broke her heart.

"Titus." She said softly as she settled, folding her great paws one over the other and resting her beak down on the crossed limbs. Viskyia had no idea if Titus would recognize her this way, in her gryphon form, but she'd not progressed enough in her training to assume her true shape, nor was it ever safe to do so in the land of dreams.

[Titus Crow]

"My daughter..." Titus breathed with his eyes still closed. It was a poor father that did not recognize his own daughter's voice. "How did you find me?" He asked with pride in his voice. How far she had grown from when he had first took her on as an apprentice! He felt sorry that he would not see her continue to grow. Sorrow and attachment, the reasons he had left in the first place. Titusarov sighed.

"You are growing stronger, it pleases me to see you progressing. I hope you are well."

He blinked his eyes open.

The change was immediate as he too entered the land of dreams. What was before human had changed into a tall, elegant, white crane. His long neck twisted, inspecting the formidable Gryphon. As a crane he stood barely over 4 feet tall and was quite a bit more delicate than his adopted child's dream animal. He beat his wings a couple times to test them out before speaking.

"Viskyia, why have you come here?" The deep voice sounded strange coming from a bird. He suddenly jumped and took to the air and began to circle the gryphon in the air. "I must warn you my soul is heavy and my dreams unpleasant. Although it warms my heart and nourishes my being to see you, I do not want to see you experience the darkness I dwell in now. I have begun my Holy Walk." He explained simply, not bothering to elaborate what the Holy Walk was.

[Viskyia Crow]

She smiled, for gryphons could indeed do such things, and lifted her head. "Stronger? No, I think not. Just wiser in the gifts I already have inside. But I am well, thank you Father." She said softly as she watched him take wing as an enormous crane. He circled overhead, but she was unconcerned. Viskyia could follow him, but she decided there would be no need. Titus wanted to talk as well, if his questions were any indication. "I've come because there are things that must be said between us. There are things I wish you to know, and wish in turn to know about you. Some you can answer, some you won't answer, and some you just need to listen to." She said softly. Then she rose, stretched, and snapped open her wings. They'd dance in the sky as they spoke, like they'd danced together on the material as father and daughter.

"I know. You've started your Holy Walk numerous times and then got distracted. There are things holding you here, whether you know it or not." The half-esh turned gryphon said softly within the dream. She banked and watched the crane as they circled. "I need some answers, Father... not half truths and hidden thinly veiled dodges. I need to tell you about my life and ask your approval." She said gently, calling her words into the wind. "And I need to thank you for taking me in when no one else would. I need to assure you that you won't be forgotten." Viskyia said, wondering briefly if this was the time and place she wanted to hash this out. There was little time though, if Titus was on his way out, she needed to make it now or never. And so, she started with her questions.

"We live many lives. I know I have, and you have as well, though you held your memories from the past far closer than I did. Why? Will you come back as another monk to fight again, or will you move on to Aslan and rest for a time now?" She called softly, her words were in a short sharp gryphon's whistle. "I remember being a sister, but in this life I feel no calling to Aslan, not anymore. Kaimelea has claimed me, and wants me for her own. I'm becoming a priestess and gathering a reverie around me.... we'll be strong, though time will tell if we will be able to survive the changes the world will undergo. Why are things different now? Why are forces changing sides in the midst of battle?" She demanded, circling long and lazy, intertwining in the crane's flight path, though for all her bulk she could barely manage his grace.

"I want to be with you, and yet time and time again they take you from me. Why can't we be a family, and if you do take the Holy Walk, will you come back in time to dwell on Telath once more at my side? Its not fair that we only had a year, Titus... a single year this time after lifetimes together. I'll gladly bear your next form just for the chance to be once more with you. Assure me this isn't forever." She said, offering more and yet demanding at the same time. She knew inherently how it worked. If Titus died and the fight wasn't over, he'd return, born anew in a body fresh into the world. She wanted to be that mother if that was the case, someday... so he'd not have to grow to adulthood on the streets as was so often the case between the two fo them.

[Titus Crow]

Titus remained quiet as he gracefully glided back and forth listening to Viskyia's questions. The crane let out a couple chuckles as a floodgate of questions, demands, and begging ensued. It was understandable, and to tell the truth the old monk expected it. Viskyia deserved to hear the truth, or at least as much as Titus could give her.

"Viskyia, my daughter, my heart," He began slowly as he flew around her immense bulk. His words were soft, almost a whisper. "We, I, the warrior monks of Aslan have been defeated. There is no other way to sugarcoat this fact. The last of us are scattered and hunted. I have hung on as long as I could out some sort of desperate hope. A foolish hope. But it was nothing more than that. I circled Telath and found myself...alone."

"Even you have moved on from our, or should i say my, crusade." He noted sadly.

"Nothing is forever and our time has passed. Do I think the war between good and evil is over? Of course not. But we are too few, our schools are destroyed, there is no longer a we just an I. I have accepted that fact so I begin my Holy Walk, finally, to accept judgement upon my soul. I will join my brothers and sisters on the other side, or I will be tossed back for failure. Either way it is His will that will decide my fate." The crane ended the sad pronouncement with a couple beats of his wings and sped up. "I say this not to saddle you with guilt or anything more than to fulfill your wish for honesty."

Titus continued to lead the way, taking Viskyia further north in silence. The dreamscape began to change, and the Teardrop Chasm gradually vanished. The air turned crisp and they found themselves flying through light snow. The lights of Zinn'sunn were gone, as well as the Outlands. They found themselves flying above an icy coastline bordered by a forest of tall evergreens.

Titus descended and soon everything came into focus. Herds of deer and elk became visible as well as the occasional moose. In the distance they heard the howling of wolves.

"You ask me how I can remember better than you." Titus suddenly broke the sublime silence. "You forget I spent awhile training as a monk where we constantly probed our past and discovered our true souls. In time you will be able to do the same...

"Do you remember this? This life?" Titus nodded below and a caravan of horsemen could be seen traveling in the darkening. Roughly thirty riders with pack mules were following a road that hugged the shore. They wore heavy, fur lined coats and hats. Each member carried a bow, quiver, and long knife.

"Ahead!" Titus called and nodded forward. They were approaching a village. It was a small settlement that lay at the end of the wilderness trail. A clutch of houses gathered within a tall stockade at the edge of the ice covered bay. They resembled yurts, but were study and permanent. A frozen dock and dozens of kayaks rested at the sea awaiting summer.

Titus perched on the top of the stockade overlooking the village and motioned for Viskyia to join him. The village was humming with activity. Large bonfires were being built and it looked like a feast was being prepared. They were dressed in a dizzying array of bright hues- blues, greens, reds. The shirts were made of deer or elk skin embroidered with sea shells which gave their garments festive colors. Their hair was long, dark and ornately braided.

Drums could be heard, as well as a scattering of singing.

"Do you remember this Viskyia?" Titus' swiveled his head and stared at Viskyia intently. His eyes almost glowed.

Nearby a lookout on the stockade spotted the party of horsemen in the distance.

"They're here!" The lookout shouted to the cheering villagers. "They're here!"

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"This is where we first met..."

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Viskyia the gryphon was no more and she found herself a young maiden in a large room full of other young maidens. They were all doted upon by a small army of mothers, grandmothers, and aunties. The excitement in the room was palpable, and everyone seemed to talk at once and very fast. Viskyia could overhear a nearby conversation...

"The Isantu men are amongst the bravest warriors in the land. We are fortunate they are coming here to look for wives."
"It is a good omen for sure. This is a good thing for our village."
"I hear there is one that is said to have defeated a demon over by Two Falls..."

Viskyia felt her hair pulled and would find a wrinkly old woman finishing off her hair. Her memory was slowly unraveling... Grandmother... She would remember.

"Get your head out the clouds child!" She chided warmly. "How do you expect to choose a husband if you ain't paying attention?"

Outside, shouts of "They're here! They're here!" Could be heard.

[Viskyia Crow]

She back winged, dipped a shoulder, flipped over, and faced him. Long ago in her gryphon form, she'd mastered the winds first in reality then in the Dreamworld they now occupied. Here she wasn't Viskyia though. Here Titus faced Nychi, the Talon, and she enjoyed enormously dancing on the wind with her father... just being with him, as he circled her expertly in his crane form. As always, Titusarov was exactly who he was, with no need of another identity. He couldn't hide his faith anyhow, at least not from her. This was how they should have been all along, close and personal, facing each other and speaking frankly with the world drifting away beneath them.

Unable to help it, she whistled her joy and chattered her gryphon's beak, banking once more to right herself as Titus wove his way upside down. Together they must have looked elegant, if anyone had been privileged enough to overlook their aerial dance.

She heard his honesty and nodded as the wind rippled her pinions. "I know, Father. We knew even back during the Arium war, though it felt good to kill them one last time. But you are right, things do not die so easily... and the war rages on. Thats why I need to invent a new way to fight, and a new angle to fight with. You lost your strength when you lost your schools. Together, the group made the strength double and triple fold. It was only when they divided you, and murdered in mass that the breaking point came. I won't ever forgive them for it... but now the war has taken new turns. We will fight... and always have. But we just need new and better ways to do so." The snowy Gryphon said, tucking tail and diving a bit to follow her father's lazy glide.

He was right... he spent time training his mind. She'd only recently begun to do the same thing. What came easy to Titus only came easy on the wings of the sacrifices he made. One of those was a family, a wife, and real roots. Viskyia wasn't willing to give up roots, and that had always been their main difference. She respected him, but her ways were going to generate more family, more support, more foundational activism.

The scene changed, and they moved across the landscape. Viskyia banked low, swooping over the horseman, though they didn't seem to notice her. She recognized them, and found that she even knew individuals. How though, she had no idea... but there was something warm and familiar about them. She almost had it when their forward momentum took them up and onto the great wall. Back winging, she settled beside the crane. Drumbeats and singing could be heard echoing off the stone as great colorful banners were unfurled marking who was visiting. Viskyia couldn't read them, but somehow one of them brought her comfort.

_________________________________

Then the scene changed....

_________________________________


"Grandmother! Stop pulling! Who needs The Isantu Warriors when one has a Grandmother like you!" Her words were foreign. Her features in the polished silver mirror was foreign too. Dark hair replaced white, and darker eyes lined with khol stared back at her. Upswept, her hair was fastened with a Lotus Blossom pin and her face powdered. "Don't let me down, child. You will be civil and find a husband tonight. If you don't, your father will sell you to the goat herder. He's had enough of your antics." Viskyia found herself frowning... no not Viskyia... her name here was Loriasta. Yes... that was it. She rose gracefully and felt the silk komono shimmer around her. "I told you, Iva, I do not want to be married. I want to ride to war with my brothers! And yet.. all father will do is let me learn the dance of swords. I can dance with them but I can't fight with them? Its unfair!" She said, twisting her glower at her grandmother, who only looked amused.

Soon they were all heading out, in order of rank and importance, though Loriasta was low in terms of birth rank, her ability to dance with the swords put her walking out second, her dual long blades resting traditionally on either shoulder. Her minced steps matched the First Daughters until they paraded into the great hall where the warriors were dining. First Daughter greeted everyone with the traditional Sun Greeting, and then Lorista stepped forward, took center stage, and started to dance. Her blades were razor sharp and deadly, but she didn't so much as part the air with a misstep as she swirled around, executing perfect control. Others sang to her dancing, and a lone flute and drum added to the rhythm. But she didn't fail.. she just kept swirling around with the blades, circling the center floor of the main hall.

In fact, she lost herself in the dance... it was a thing of deadly seduction, telling a story of death in the midst of war. And when she finally concluded it, halting in the center of the floor and staring off to her left, her dark gaze made contact. A man stood there, young and with a hungry gaze. Tradition and honor demanded she lower her gaze and bow to him. But not her, not Loriasta. She met his gaze boldly.

Viskyia answered Titus' question through the lips of Loriasta. "Yes, I remember."

[Titus Crow]

The man stood with a bemused look on his face. He wore his long black hair in a simple ponytail tied with a strip of rawhide. His shoulders were broad, his hands rough from work and training. A long, thin scar stretched from his right eye back to his ear. His ceremonial long knife, encrusted with jewels and jade, hung at his waist.

He had watched her dance at first with indifference, but then with a sort of focused intensity that his friends and foster family knew too well. His blood brother Patataki elbowed him and pointed.

"How about that one Vorath? She dances as you fight! Perhaps you two can spar together since you spend more time practicing, than you spend time practicing if you catch my drift! har har!" Patataki joked and grabbed another leg of quail. Patataki had made it clear that he was going to try to woo the First Daughter as was his right as the eldest. That left Vorath with whomever was left.

The young warrior known as Vorath blushed, embarrassed at Patataki's gentle jibes. As a boy he had been found on a hunt by Patataki's father Timoti. His parent's house burnt by barbarians, the young boy escaped being murdered or kidnapped by hiding under a fallen tree trunk. Vorath was no more than 4 at the time, cold and half starved. Timoti rescued him and raised him within his own family.

Vorath blossomed and grew to be one of the most promising young warriors among the Isantu. He was strong and agile, an excellent hunter and tracker. Yet there was always something a little bit different. He had troubling dreams and spent a lot of time with the shaman trying to find answers for questions he didn't know.

"Vorath, Patataki is a fool, but I agree with him, go talk to her. It'll be just fine." Timoti, his adopted father advised and gave Vorath a push out of his chair. Laughter erupted from the table as Vorath stalked towards the dancer.

Vorath stood and watched from the sidelines.

The dance ended and Titus replied from the lips of Vorath.

"By this time I had already been born and reborn several times, but you were a new soul. And as unafraid as you are now...As I have always been awkward in terms of romance." He said warmly. "Shall we continue with what we remember?"

"You are a bold one, little dancer," Vorath said softly, nervously, but not unkindly. "Tell me what is your name? I am Vorath, son of Timoti of the Isantu." And then nothing. His mind was blank, his knees almost buckled. Vorath had killed the cursed horseman and his damned mistress at Two Falls without fear but talking to this woman terrified him. And he did not know why this was so, but it was. His breathing sped up and he began to sweat a little bit.

"Your sword dance was...pretty..." Vorath stumbled. "Have you studied long?"

[Viskyia Crow]

She acknowledged his words in the sort of double scene they participated in. Lips curved into a smile, and she answered Titus with an amused voice. "Even though we probably both want to forget what happened next?" The woman said even as the scene rose more closely in front of them, drawing them back into their remembered selves. Viskyia felt her sense of self recede and the angry rebellious young woman rise forth. That woman had none of her present temperament and tact. Spoiled and indulged came to mind immediately.

Dark eyebrows rose, arching, and she responded politely enough, though her words had something of a bite to them. "I am Loriasta of Dabviath's bloodline, second daughter, and I will be no man's brood mare. I know what you men are here for. I'll have none of it. I just want to fight." She said, knowing that the truth of it would be shocking. Among their people, women did not fight. Not ever. But she wasn't them, the rest of the daughters, with her head up in the clouds dreaming of men and babies and how big their hearth fires would be. The thought sickened her. "I can ride and fight as well as any man. So if you seek a soft bed partner, look elsewhere. I'm not interested." But she knew, in the end, she had no choice. Whomever spoke to her father would get her, especially if they paid enough for the right. And a fierce wife wasn't a well approved of wife in their society. Women cast their eyes down, ghosted about their lives being only what they were allowed to be by those that took care of them. Cattle. Despite what her Grandmother said, thats what she felt like. Her and her fellow daughters were cattle, up for bid tonight for the highest price.

"I've studied longer than you've held that pigsticker you call a katana...." Loriasta said, pondering if she should challenge him to a spar. They'd have to go outside though, for her adoptive father would have her hide after his mortification died down, at his second eldest daughter fighting with honored guests.

[Titus Crow]

Vorath was momentarily taken aback by the feisty sword dancer. It was shocking to see such aggressiveness in a maiden, his own mother would probably smack the stuffing out a young lady being so bold. Her attitude reminded him of his brother Patataki, though she was much more pleasant to look at than his rough and tumble brother. Patataki was a person who charged first, thought out a plan later, if at all. Vorath was the thinker of a family. Some would call him cautious but he always remembered what his father told him- fight smarter not harder. His nervousness melted away as he grew to appreciate the boldness and straight talk of Loriasta.

"Are you challenging me to a duel little dancer?" He asked quietly with a large grin on his face. He figured the maiden would bristle at his nickname for him which made it much more appealing to use. "Most interesting..." He murmured to himself as he pondered which direction to go.

"I almost thought this was going to be boring coming here, yet you made sure this is anything but." Vorath rubbed his face thoughtfully before continuing. "Does your father know you speak in such a voice?" An eyebrow arched. He looked over and saw his people watching their exchange with interest. It seemed Patataki was offering advice with a subtle crude gesture. The Isantu were known for their bravery not for their grace and tact.

He leaned close and whispered close to her ear.

"If it is a test of skill you seek meet me at dawn with a mount and something to parry my pigsticker..." With that he smiled, bowed politely and returned back to his nosy family.

"Well???" Patataki demanded.
"We'll see brother, we'll see." Was all Vorath said.


-----------------------

Dawn. Vorath had not slept all darkening. He spent the rest of the banquet politely talking to the rest of the maidens but showed little interest. Timoti became a bit alarmed at his son's aloofness towards the other young women. However the clever War Chief smiled and understood as he noticed Vorath staring intently at the sword dancer before refilling his wine goblet.

The young warrior was dressed in a heavy coat with his beaver fur hat pulled tight upon his head. At his waist a katana and long knife hung on opposite sides of his hip. A bow and quiver were tied to the appaloosa gelding he had named Aztoca.

His stomach churned and he waited impatiently for the darkness to surrender to the brightening. Would she come?

[Viskyia Crow]

Rage flared in the girl's eyes as she stared down the The Isantu Warriors arrogance. The pig. A snarl curled her pretty lips and looked like she was about to bite. Rather than teeth though, a blade danced painfully close to the stubble he'd decided not to remove for the feast and dance. Typical. They hadn't even bothered to be well groomed to show up to select their choice of cattle this trip. Her blood boiled.

Vorath wasn't bad looking, and his eyes had a rare glint of good humor in them. But the girl was beyond seeing it. Part of it stemmed from her fear, another part from her frustration of being stuck in the role of only a female. Her bloodline was one of the fiercest on the plains, but she resented the fact that people said it was her duty to bare more sons rather than act on what was in her blood herself. Brood mare, indeed. So when his challenge was issued, Loriasta tipped back her head and laughed. It so startled her parents, they turned on seats and looked in bafflement to see what caused their daughter to laugh. A Isantu, they nodded their approval, though indeed they would have been horrified to know the context. Flirting should be underway. Fans should be waved, hips swayed, dances conducted to display the beauty and good breeding of the ladies. Loriasta's upswept tresses were already escaping the lotus blossom comb... and would have horrified her mother had she realized it. But as it was, the pair were too far away from Loriasta's parents to be under that close of scrutiny.

As it was, the little dancer danced with no men that night. She only danced for herself, with blades, and later with fans to please her grandmother in a rare display of passion and grace. It didn't help though, that rather than silk fans, Loriasta danced with the Tessan... the razor sharp fans of war.

~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He shouldn't have worried, because even before a hint of light touched the sky, the sword dancer was making herself ready for their meeting. Loriasta had yet to fail to rise to a challenge, especially by one of the The Isantu Warriors. This one was cocky beyond belief. Little Dancer. She'd part his smirk from his pretty face, she decided as she saddled up her father's warhorse and strapped on her grandfather's armor. Her family was fortunate. Her grandfather had been a slight man, and his armor fit her well for she was a tall girl and had worked enough to develop the muscles to hold the ceramic pieces in place. She had both her swords, and smirked as she only placed the saddle on the stallion. Reins wouldn't get in the way of her battle... this was a fight she desperately wanted! This was a chance to prove to her family that she was good enough. The girl lead the stallion from the barn with careful silence and mounted him in the courtyard. Then she was off, guiding him with her knees as she raced out of the stockade. The watch saw her go, and shook their heads. One passed coin to the other, making a bet on how stern her punishment would be this time.

Loriasta rode hard, the big bay stallion's hide flashing red as the suns started streaking across the sky. When she came, she came like a gust of wildfire across the ridgeline, bearing down on him with no hesitation.

The war cry she issued in her native tongue was an old one, stemmed in tradition. It meant 'Death to the oppressor. Death to the invader. Life to the strong. Life to the bold. Freedom for all..' It was her clan's motto. And she sang it out so boldly that it echoed off the gentle hills all around the little plateau he'd picked for the meeting.

[Titus Crow]

THWAP!

A well placed arrow at the feet of Loriasta's stallion announced Vorath's presence to the feisty maiden. The Isantu warrior loped easily atop his painted pony with a happy go lucky grin upon his face. Obviously he was approaching this meeting from a whole different angle. He wore no armor, the Isantu shedding protection for the agility that being unburdened provided them. Instead they wore a pouch around their neck that held a variety of power objects and good luck pieces to ward off danger.

Vorath yelled out as he pulled his appaloosa to a stop a safe distance away.
"I see we have come prepared!" The warrior taunted while gesturing to her armor. The gelding seemed content almost sleepy standing there, a stark contrast to Loriasta's eager stallion. The Isantu were most famous for two things- their skill at horse archery and their tireless, ever-napping ponies.

"You'll have to catch me first! Hiya!" He shouted playfully as his yip roused the appaloosa from rest. At once the gelding turned sharp right and shot like a cannonball down the snowy, rolling hill. Vorath slung low on the gelding's back as he held a bow and arrow in his right hand. His left gripped the horse's mane tightly and his legs steered the big hearted beast. Vorath looked behind him to make sure that he was being followed.

The forest started nearby and Vorath guided the steed towards the tall, slender evergreen trees. The both of them jumped a blown down log and landed in stride. Vorath let loose his own people's battle cry, which was nothing more than a series of sharp, high yelps.

Suddenly the both of them screeched to a stop. Snow exploded at the horse's feet and threw it up into the air.

"Hoya!" He yipped as the appaloosa stopped on a dime. Vorath's face turned serious, his good humor drained away and showed concern. It even froze in horror for a second as he understood what he was looking at. This was supposed to be fun no matter what this crazy amazon maiden thought this was. He jumped off Aztoca's back and landed on his feet, bow drawn.

A patch of bloody snow could be seen in the distance. There were a multiple of bodies strewn throughout this patch of forest. Aztoca nickered worriedly as Vorath approached.

"Poor lad, never had a chance..." Vorath waited for Loriasta to approach as he pointed around. "Along with his mount..." A boy of 12 or 13 from Loriasta's village lay half devoured alongside his horse who suffered the same fate.

"Strange markings, I don't recognize them..." Vorath was now walking the perimeter looking for sign. "I see two pairs of horses however, followed by a horde of three clawed beasts... One's still out there." Vorath said softly before turning to Loriasta. Suddenly he froze and touched a patch of melted snow. In the middle was a puddle of green liquid at smelled slightly acidic. "Demonsign!" Vorath said in his own language.

"Go back to your village and get help, I'm going to track the beasts and try to do what I can." Vorath began to follow a path of tracks that went farther into the forest. "They went that way." He stood there for a moment and watched the horizon. The air turned cooler and he sniffed the wind. He began to caress his spirit pouch and said a brief prayer in his holy tongue.

"Our duel will have to wait Loriasta." He looked at her with a small smile as he vaulted back on his appaloosa pony.