26th of Ashan 719
Line after line, The Protean used Fridgar's hand to their will and wrote out what they'd learned in the Grimoire. Notes on Dismissal and the structure of the rune of strength which took up the third and fourth pages of his book. Of course, they needed to lift Fridgar's blindfold to write, but they quickly lowered it once it was done. The Lothar shut the small book and placed it back in his domain bag, which rested next to him. "So, how do I do this?" Fridgar asked while turning his head in the direction of his mentor. Rhostus, an older Lotharren male with grey hair and old, spotted skin, spoke in return, "you just write it on your arm or whatever limb you want the rune to affect." Fridgar nodded in understanding. It was more or less the same as the rune of touch then?
Being already quite familiar with the rune of touch, Fridgar quite sloppily drew the rune of strength on his bicep, using his ether, but nothing happened. Then, the sound of crackling and fizzling sounded and the rune dissipated. The Protean paused, confused. What had he done wrong? "Hold on," Rhostus spoke as he approached the sitting Lothar. "Try again, but take your time. This isn't a race, you know," he instructed while he watched Fridgar's arm. The younger Lothar huffed and nodded, then tried again. This time, he was more careful to draw the rune of strength and his ether lit up the marking on his arm with a glowing crimson. Then, as soon as he was done, his arm tensed up with a strength he'd not felt before. It was as though the slightest movement could throw his arm overhead. It felt incredibly light, which was an odd sensation because of all the muscle he was conditioned into carrying.
"Whoa..." It was a strange feeling, a feeling that almost made him scared to move. "...You wanna try it out?" Rhostus asked with a few steps backward. The old man knew better than to try his luck near an initiate with that amount of untapped strength. Fridgar nodded, then with all the care in the world, he lowered his hand to the sand. Then he leaned his weight into it to try and stand, but the amount of force he put into the hold was enough to propel him backward. Fridgar clenched his teeth, flailed and grunted before falling flat on his back. Rhostus started laughing just across from him. Did the old man just enjoy seeing him struggle? The protean growled as the fresh, cool water of the sea rolled up to lick at his shoulders and drenched the back of his head. Then, he pressed into his hands at his sides as he naturally tried to stand. This was a mistake, as the Lothar propelled himself across the beach and landed flat on his face. At least this time, the sand was a little drier.
Rhostus's laughing turned to manic cackling while he watched the display, and Fridgar only got angrier. How the hell would a rune like this ever be useful? He couldn't even stand properly!
Clenching his fist, Fridgar pressed into the sand with his unaltered arm then carefully but expertly drew his legs in with a hop and rose to his feet. Rhostus was wheezing, likely crying with laughter. Fridgar simply scowled in the direction of the laughter beneath his blindfold. Now though, he was all turned around. He didn't know where he was. With a sigh, he moved his hand to shift his blindfold, then smacked himself in the face with his own arm. "Bogs!" The Lothar yelled before covering his mouth with his normal hand. He could feel the warmth of his own blood dripping into his palm from a tear in his lip. Fridgar's skin was very thick, it took quite an abnormal amount of blunt force trauma to draw his blood... But in just one punch, he'd gone and done it. Snarling, Fridgar dismissed the rune and drew its ether back into himself.
Rhostus had stopped laughing, and Fridgar felt him drawing closer. Pissed as all hell, Fridgar ripped the blindfold from his eyes and looked to the old man who'd just stood there laughing at him. Rhostus's smile had long faded when the Lothar punched himself, then seeing the anger in Fridgar's eyes drew fear from his heart. The old man quickly looked away as to not further provoke the corrupted Lothar. "Kid, calm down..." The old man spoke, with his eyes glued on the sand. "CALM DOWN!?" Fridgar bellowed in rage while his own blood ran down his chin. The majority of him just wanted to lash out and strike the old man, pummel him into the dirt for laughing at him. Seeing the old man's fear, however, woke him up a little. "I FELL, AND I COULDN'T GET UP!!!" The Lothar bellowed at the old man, clenching his fists tight. "AND YOU WERE JUST FUCKING LAUGHING AT ME!!!!" In all his effort to channel his anger into his words, he'd forgotten that his totems rested in his bag nearby.
At once, The lurker took advantage of his fury and tried to manifest itself over his form. His whole body pulsed and grew half a dozen feet or so. The protean realized too late and locked his form with his ether... only it was mid-transformation. His whole body rippled and bulged while muscles and organs that were mid-transition strained. "...FUCK!" His voice came as a strangled growl while he held the form with the raw intensity of his anger. He couldn't hold it though, it would kill him. The blood vessels in his eyes burst at the unstable pressure in his skull and his skin darkened around the eyes and mouth, bleeding beneath the skin. He couldn't breathe with his lungs as they were. He had no choice, he had to let the transformation unfold or he would die. He released his ether lock and his transformation resumed. Dozens of feet of flesh separated him from the ground as he grew to gigantic proportions. His vision swam and darkened in the corners before he reached his full height of thirty-seven feet and ten inches tall. Massive flowing horns sprouted from his skull and curled backward. They hung over a large, thick mane of red hair, which came as a thick, unkempt forest of amber, which draped over his shoulder blades. His facial structure changed only slightly to bare the long curved nose of the lurker as well as their uncanny old-man face.
There he stood, an alpha Lurker of the Plains, only he didn't hold himself like one, he stumbled backward and held his head, then dropped to one knee with a slam that shook the ground. He held his head while pained, bloody tears rolled down his cheeks. He drew a careful, shaky breath into his lungs and fed his brain much-needed oxygen. The dark around his vision receded a little and cleared, but his skull still felt so full and heavy. Below him, Rhostus was just staring in awe. "Fuck..." he spoke, his voice a fearsome, snarling growl that could quite easily make a grown Lothar piss themselves. "I can't..." His voice came again as he reached for the bag in which he held all of his totems. Then, once it was close enough to his head, he cast unleash and chrysalis on his Lotharro totem. Very quickly, the Protean shrank several hundred times his mass and about four-fifths his size.
He rested in the crater created by his own foot, kneeling with his domain bag in his hand. He stayed there in silence, just holding his head and streaming tears. Rhostus appeared at the edge of the crater and looked down on the initiate. Carefully, he climbed in and walked toward the Protean with care, one step at a time. "...Kid?" The older Lothar asked as he drew closer to the Protean. Fridgar could feel his movements, hear him talking, but he responded to neither. Rhostus reached out to take Fridgar's shoulder then carefully sat beside him. Beneath his mane of brown hair, he could see Fridgar's arm glistening with the dampness of his tears. Rhostus sighed, then reached his arm over the larger Lothar's shoulders and pulled him close. Fridgar froze in his mentor's grip, then laid his head on the old man's shoulder and sniffled.
"I can't keep doing this..." Fridgar finished through his damp eyes, then turned over to press his face into the old man's shoulder while clutching his shirt in his claws. "I know, kid..." Rhostus spoke softly while rubbing the younger Lothar's shoulder, "I know." The two stayed like that for a few bits while Fridgar dried his eyes and composed himself, then Rhostus broke the silence. "...I think you might wanna talk about whatever's bothering you," he said simply, to which, Fridgar shook his head. Then, after a deep breath, he sat up and rubbed both his eyes. His Llewnos totem pushed to manifest herself over his form and he welcomed it with open arms. Once the transformation was done, she shook her head and spoke with Fridgar's voice. "Another time, perhaps." She collected their bag, then climbed out of the crater and ran across the beach. That was enough of Fridgar for one trial.
Line after line, The Protean used Fridgar's hand to their will and wrote out what they'd learned in the Grimoire. Notes on Dismissal and the structure of the rune of strength which took up the third and fourth pages of his book. Of course, they needed to lift Fridgar's blindfold to write, but they quickly lowered it once it was done. The Lothar shut the small book and placed it back in his domain bag, which rested next to him. "So, how do I do this?" Fridgar asked while turning his head in the direction of his mentor. Rhostus, an older Lotharren male with grey hair and old, spotted skin, spoke in return, "you just write it on your arm or whatever limb you want the rune to affect." Fridgar nodded in understanding. It was more or less the same as the rune of touch then?
Being already quite familiar with the rune of touch, Fridgar quite sloppily drew the rune of strength on his bicep, using his ether, but nothing happened. Then, the sound of crackling and fizzling sounded and the rune dissipated. The Protean paused, confused. What had he done wrong? "Hold on," Rhostus spoke as he approached the sitting Lothar. "Try again, but take your time. This isn't a race, you know," he instructed while he watched Fridgar's arm. The younger Lothar huffed and nodded, then tried again. This time, he was more careful to draw the rune of strength and his ether lit up the marking on his arm with a glowing crimson. Then, as soon as he was done, his arm tensed up with a strength he'd not felt before. It was as though the slightest movement could throw his arm overhead. It felt incredibly light, which was an odd sensation because of all the muscle he was conditioned into carrying.
"Whoa..." It was a strange feeling, a feeling that almost made him scared to move. "...You wanna try it out?" Rhostus asked with a few steps backward. The old man knew better than to try his luck near an initiate with that amount of untapped strength. Fridgar nodded, then with all the care in the world, he lowered his hand to the sand. Then he leaned his weight into it to try and stand, but the amount of force he put into the hold was enough to propel him backward. Fridgar clenched his teeth, flailed and grunted before falling flat on his back. Rhostus started laughing just across from him. Did the old man just enjoy seeing him struggle? The protean growled as the fresh, cool water of the sea rolled up to lick at his shoulders and drenched the back of his head. Then, he pressed into his hands at his sides as he naturally tried to stand. This was a mistake, as the Lothar propelled himself across the beach and landed flat on his face. At least this time, the sand was a little drier.
Rhostus's laughing turned to manic cackling while he watched the display, and Fridgar only got angrier. How the hell would a rune like this ever be useful? He couldn't even stand properly!
Clenching his fist, Fridgar pressed into the sand with his unaltered arm then carefully but expertly drew his legs in with a hop and rose to his feet. Rhostus was wheezing, likely crying with laughter. Fridgar simply scowled in the direction of the laughter beneath his blindfold. Now though, he was all turned around. He didn't know where he was. With a sigh, he moved his hand to shift his blindfold, then smacked himself in the face with his own arm. "Bogs!" The Lothar yelled before covering his mouth with his normal hand. He could feel the warmth of his own blood dripping into his palm from a tear in his lip. Fridgar's skin was very thick, it took quite an abnormal amount of blunt force trauma to draw his blood... But in just one punch, he'd gone and done it. Snarling, Fridgar dismissed the rune and drew its ether back into himself.
Rhostus had stopped laughing, and Fridgar felt him drawing closer. Pissed as all hell, Fridgar ripped the blindfold from his eyes and looked to the old man who'd just stood there laughing at him. Rhostus's smile had long faded when the Lothar punched himself, then seeing the anger in Fridgar's eyes drew fear from his heart. The old man quickly looked away as to not further provoke the corrupted Lothar. "Kid, calm down..." The old man spoke, with his eyes glued on the sand. "CALM DOWN!?" Fridgar bellowed in rage while his own blood ran down his chin. The majority of him just wanted to lash out and strike the old man, pummel him into the dirt for laughing at him. Seeing the old man's fear, however, woke him up a little. "I FELL, AND I COULDN'T GET UP!!!" The Lothar bellowed at the old man, clenching his fists tight. "AND YOU WERE JUST FUCKING LAUGHING AT ME!!!!" In all his effort to channel his anger into his words, he'd forgotten that his totems rested in his bag nearby.
At once, The lurker took advantage of his fury and tried to manifest itself over his form. His whole body pulsed and grew half a dozen feet or so. The protean realized too late and locked his form with his ether... only it was mid-transformation. His whole body rippled and bulged while muscles and organs that were mid-transition strained. "...FUCK!" His voice came as a strangled growl while he held the form with the raw intensity of his anger. He couldn't hold it though, it would kill him. The blood vessels in his eyes burst at the unstable pressure in his skull and his skin darkened around the eyes and mouth, bleeding beneath the skin. He couldn't breathe with his lungs as they were. He had no choice, he had to let the transformation unfold or he would die. He released his ether lock and his transformation resumed. Dozens of feet of flesh separated him from the ground as he grew to gigantic proportions. His vision swam and darkened in the corners before he reached his full height of thirty-seven feet and ten inches tall. Massive flowing horns sprouted from his skull and curled backward. They hung over a large, thick mane of red hair, which came as a thick, unkempt forest of amber, which draped over his shoulder blades. His facial structure changed only slightly to bare the long curved nose of the lurker as well as their uncanny old-man face.
There he stood, an alpha Lurker of the Plains, only he didn't hold himself like one, he stumbled backward and held his head, then dropped to one knee with a slam that shook the ground. He held his head while pained, bloody tears rolled down his cheeks. He drew a careful, shaky breath into his lungs and fed his brain much-needed oxygen. The dark around his vision receded a little and cleared, but his skull still felt so full and heavy. Below him, Rhostus was just staring in awe. "Fuck..." he spoke, his voice a fearsome, snarling growl that could quite easily make a grown Lothar piss themselves. "I can't..." His voice came again as he reached for the bag in which he held all of his totems. Then, once it was close enough to his head, he cast unleash and chrysalis on his Lotharro totem. Very quickly, the Protean shrank several hundred times his mass and about four-fifths his size.
He rested in the crater created by his own foot, kneeling with his domain bag in his hand. He stayed there in silence, just holding his head and streaming tears. Rhostus appeared at the edge of the crater and looked down on the initiate. Carefully, he climbed in and walked toward the Protean with care, one step at a time. "...Kid?" The older Lothar asked as he drew closer to the Protean. Fridgar could feel his movements, hear him talking, but he responded to neither. Rhostus reached out to take Fridgar's shoulder then carefully sat beside him. Beneath his mane of brown hair, he could see Fridgar's arm glistening with the dampness of his tears. Rhostus sighed, then reached his arm over the larger Lothar's shoulders and pulled him close. Fridgar froze in his mentor's grip, then laid his head on the old man's shoulder and sniffled.
"I can't keep doing this..." Fridgar finished through his damp eyes, then turned over to press his face into the old man's shoulder while clutching his shirt in his claws. "I know, kid..." Rhostus spoke softly while rubbing the younger Lothar's shoulder, "I know." The two stayed like that for a few bits while Fridgar dried his eyes and composed himself, then Rhostus broke the silence. "...I think you might wanna talk about whatever's bothering you," he said simply, to which, Fridgar shook his head. Then, after a deep breath, he sat up and rubbed both his eyes. His Llewnos totem pushed to manifest herself over his form and he welcomed it with open arms. Once the transformation was done, she shook her head and spoke with Fridgar's voice. "Another time, perhaps." She collected their bag, then climbed out of the crater and ran across the beach. That was enough of Fridgar for one trial.
