• PM To Join • [Wilderness] Hangover

[Varthakh]

18th of Ashan 719

Abaddon, it seemed, was a very lucky man. Fridgar had been stricken with terrible nightmares of late, and more often than not, those nightmares had sprung his totems into action. Stress and strong emotions often drew out his totems and they manifested his form at their own will while they were asleep. It would have been easy, far too easy, for Fridgar to shift into a Willow Redbear in his sleep and involuntarily smother or crush the smaller Lothar. Thankfully, though, Fridgar had remembered to drop his domain bag at the deepest part of the passage before falling asleep at the mouth of the cave with his wings tucked neatly against his back.

The entrance of the cave was a good twelve feet off the ground, which was made up of rocky, craggy coast. In that break of the morning, where the sun was rising, the tide had rolled in just a few feet from the lip of the cave's entrance. Each roll of the waves that spattered against the cliff face drew closer and closer to splashing the face of the drunk, unconscious Lothar. When a particularly large wave rolled in and slammed the cliff face, Fridgar had been laying on his front with his mouth open, dangling off the very edge of the cave. Disgusting salt water viciously attacked his open mouth and nostrils while he idly breathed. Fridgar winced, then coughed and sputtered before pressing full force into his hands to get away from the water. Reflexively, his wings spread and crashed against the roof of the cave as he hacked and grunted. "Fucking hell!" he yelled, then closed his wings and sat back flat on his arse.

He sat there for a bit or two while he rubbed his eyes and coughed up the last of the saltwater violently. With a groan and a sigh, he flexed his wings again and looked to them with curiosity. Transforming in their sleep was one thing they did often, but adapting? The pounding in his head suggested that they'd done it on a night out, however. Once they'd woken up a little more, he pressed to his feet and turned to fetch his loin cloth when they spotted a man, laying asleep on the sandy floor of their cave. For a moment or two, they were confused as all fuck and a hair's breadth from setting off in a violent explosion of claws and teeth, as would be the fate of any other man that trespassed on their territory. Then, thoughts of the night prior stirred in his pained head, they'd actually kidnapped this man while they were both turnt.

They could just about kick themselves for being so damn trigger happy, but no harm, no foul. The least they could do for kidnapping him would be to get him breakfast, so they took their domain bag and brought it closer to the front of the cave. After collecting the shark totem from the bag, they ran forward and cast a blinking portal right before them, Fridgar tumbled through and appeared a hundred feet out at sea, then plummeted to splash in the deep blue. At once, the shark totem sprung to life with the desire to swim and hunt, and the protean let it manifest over their form. They assimilated the totem as they transformed over the course of thirty trills, then swam into the depths. With beady black eyes that scanned the deep blue for any sign of movement and life, It wasn't long before they found a school of salmon, all swimming about in different directions. The chase was on.

Like a bullet, the shark took off toward the school. Immediately, they maneuvered around his charge and took to the left, he took chase, his gnashing jaws closing in quickly on them. Sure, he was larger and easier to swim around, but all he needed was for one of the big fish to make a wrong turn... and then...

Perhaps thirty bits later, the shark returned with a particularly plump salmon pressed firmly in his jaws. The tide was still high, getting back in would be a bother... But the bag was right at the mouth of the cave. If they could just get close enough. The shark edged closer, being cautious of the pull of the waves. Alas, Fridgar wasn't that good a swimmer and, quite easily, the water tricked them and pulled him with frightening force for the cliff face. At once, they cast unleash and unfurled into a Llewnos. She was still slammed against the cliff face, but they kept a firm hold of the salmon. As soon as the water relented, she gained her footing then reached her front paws up to the mouth of the cave and pulled herself from the water, dripping wet.

"Good morning." Fridgar's voice spoke in an echo from the feline as she lowered to lay on her stomach with the salmon in her jaws. She watched the man for a little while longer before she put the salmon down on the floor and licked her lips. "This is an 'I'm sorry for kidnapping you' present. I hope you like it."

[Abaddon]

The crackle of stone shattering against the cavern floor roused the mage to life, a groan piercing the silent void left behind after Fridgar’s vulgar outburst. “Fek...” he hissed, and the ocean spray wafted against him too in the chill morning breeze. Unfocused eyes watched on, a cold body deprived of its sole source of warmth still laying upon the ground. “...How much did I drink?” he blinked, head absolutely pounding.

Crrkkkkffftt! Like thunder, a sound harshly skewered the air, and Fridgar disappeared. “What in Cassion’s beard!?” Abaddon yelled, scooting back against the wall as he saw a shark in free fall just outside the mouth of the cave. Though his head pulsed, and his mind was left weary, he felt a suspicion roiling inside, a fear that this man he could scarcely recall did not bode well for him.

Raising palm over palm, his hands pressed together, the one atop his dominant arm beginning to glow an unsettling red light beneath the fingers. Concentrating, he visualized the rune of Strength in his mind, finding it difficult with the pulsing ache of a hangover still tugging upon his mental strings. Next, he gave the rune context, through a Trigger, whisperings in his mind giving it meaning. Unlike the usual kind of Trigger, over the bit he thought about it, he found that there was room for something more than the typical Touch Trigger. Instead, there was a dark, empty void waiting to sing a song, to resonate with whatever dark tale he could suffuse it with. Furrowing his brow and inhaling deep, he mumbled the first thing that came to mind, “awake,” and that helped him to repeat the word through his faculties until the Spark caught on and the meaning was imparted. In the end, Abaddon had a Rune of Strength, bound to the Spoken Trigger awaiting the word awake for its activation.

When he finished, he found himself with more time to spare, so he cautiously looked over his surroundings. Dealing with a mage, his next instinct was to shroud his Frequency in Static, further meditating on the concept as he opened his mind to that sound of self he was constantly aware of, akin to a tinnitus in the back of the mind. As he shredded the Frequency to an unrecognizable tone, it grew fuzzy and distorted, and he knew it would take more than a simple glance with Attunement to reveal his true nature.

When all was set and done, he still had more time while Fridgar hunted, so he carefully stood upon his legs and wandered to the edge of the cave, squinting eyes peering out into the cloudy sea, watching the lapping waves until a large one crashed against the shore and sprayed him again, leaving his pantaloons soaked, his bare chest glistening with the salty water.

“Mmm...” he glanced side to side, looking for a way out. Twelve feet to the waves, and a whole world between him and the nearest city, it seemed. Things from the night before were starting to come back to him in flashes and words, and he rubbed his temples, shivering. “Wings...” he mumbled. “He said he could give me wings. And I believed that? I’m such a fool.”

What if he’s a monster?

From the ocean waves, a figure emerged, tumbling into the skewering rocks below. Abaddon watched with a quiet curiosity as the belly of that shark twisted and turned, before it quickly turned into the form of a cat, spread-eagle and climbing the slippery stones. He stepped back as it advanced, notably more cautious by the way he was crouching towards the back of the cave, unsure of what to think until it began to speak. “A talking cat, but you were a man just a second ago...” he observed. “How?”

Of course, he knew the answer. Domain Magic. The same affliction he bore. That was the answer. “Kidnapped?” he leered, glancing down at the fish. While he was quite hungry from the binge of the night before, fresh wriggling salmon had more work to be done before it could be eaten safely. “I don’t have a knife to clean it with,” he mumbled truthfully before scratching his chin and smirking with just a twinge of spicy arrogance. “If this was some drunken accident, am I free to leave?” He leaned against the wall. “And you said you could give me wings to fly away, were those drunken ramblings or real words?”

He paused a moment to sigh. “Ah, I’ve never had that much booze before. My head hurts...”

It was unusual how calm a man could be staring down a giant feline, it was obvious Abaddon had seen stranger things.

[Varthakh]

In all honesty, they were quite relieved to see that the Lotharro had woken up. If they'd had to wake them up in the body of the Llewnos, it could have started a panic, perhaps even violence. It would have been such a drag to have to bite a hole through the man's skull after they'd gone through all the trouble of finding a salmon for him. What if they were a monster? Was a being that had no default shape really a person? An animal? A beast? Perhaps all of the above? What made a monster to the Lothar that shared Fridgar's cave?

"Becoming," Fridgar's voice echoed again, though her lips didn't move. The voice seemed to flow from no discernable location, other than the feline's general direction. "Forgive me, she hates having wet fur," the voice said the truth. With no other warning, the being before him began to shrink considerably and all the bones in their body reformed, they took different shapes and changed sizes to make the frame of their Lotharro form. Part-way through the transformation, their nerves lined up right and they rose to their foot-paws They reached into their domain bag with steadily forming hands and retrieved their loincloth. Quickly, they adorned it before any explicit details were put on display for the other Lotharro, and a large shark tooth appeared in his hand; the totem he'd assimilated.

"It's the domain magic of transformation, as I understand it, lots of Quacians are mages," the Protean spoke through the mouth of the form they'd assumed while the final features of their form set, and they appeared entirely male and entirely lotharro. He looked to his palm, where the skin-wrapped tooth rested. "I'm sorry if I startled you, I thought there would be more like me around," he looked to the ground while they thought, then looked to Abaddon a glance. "be careful with this, it's precious to me," was all he said as he motioned to toss him the totem. They let go of the piece of bone and shark skin if the Lotharro signaled he was ready and passed it to him. "We utilize totems made from the three sovereign substances to alter our bodies, become other creatures. That's the totem of my shark, I'm not sure if you saw him. The bond between becomer and totem is... Powerful." If only the lothar ahead of him understood the weight of trust it took for one of his kind to hand over such a relic so freely. Or was it that they didn't perceive them to be a threat? One or the other, surely.

He nodded simply at the question, then snickered a little and brushed the back of his head. "Well yes, as I understand it, I took you here without consent while we were both hammered. I didn't mean to, but I can't remember why I did it, either..." He paused again, seeming to think. They were interrupted by the refusal of their gift, however. "You won't eat it?" The bestial man asked with a furrowed brow. The Lothar sighed before reaching his full arm into the deep leather bag, then carefully drew a large, black, two-handed ax from the arcane artifact. "Terrendyte," he said as he handed Abaddon the handle end of the ax and held out his hand to receive his shark totem again, that was if he was done examining it. "Brought it with me from Uthaldria, watch yourself, it's heavy," Any Lothar that had been to gauthrel knew of Terrendyte, the ultra-strong, ultra-dense metal wielded by the hardy lotharren people.

That was apparently the only blade they could offer for preparing the fish. "You'd probably get yourself killed if you tried to leave on your own now, the rocks down there are unforgiving to those that don't know them..." The protean spoke in a way that was both honest and somewhat daunting. To anyone, that could have been perceived as a threat. "If you'd like, I could carry you back to the city, or you could stay a while and enjoy some fish with a scary man in a cave," They couldn't help but grin at the last few words. In hindsight, this was probably a strange situation for anyone to be in.

When his next question arose, Fridgar slammed his palm with a balled fist then rolled his eyes. Of course, their memories returned to him, they'd subtly offered to initiate this man, whose name they didn't even know yet, while drunk. "Ah, that's probably why I kidnapped you, then, he explained with a chuckle, then offered the man to sit. Fridgar planted his animal-hide-wrapped-hide on the floor of the cave before he continued to speak. "I could initiate you, though I've never done it before. I'm not sure how much you know of Domain magic, but that sort of thing is usually quite... intimate." He shrugged. "I could initiate you, as I said, but I know next to nothing about you, besides that you're fun to drink with." And that was the truth, he'd said it almost on queue, as the man before him began to complain about his head. Fridgar laughed.

"Next time, I'll let you buy the drinks," his words were mostly in jest, but such a thing would allow the smaller Lotharro to drink at a pace comfortable to them. "My name is Fridgar, by the way. Fridgar... Calder." It took them a little while to consider their last name, but for better or worse, they were still life-bound to Alistair, and by extension, married.

[Abaddon]

“Becoming?” Abaddon repeated.
”The magic of ‘Becoming’ things. Transcending what you are. It is something I’ve had many dreams about but never did I imagine such a thing existed.” He winced, putting himself in Fridgar’s ...paws. “Does your head get crowded sometimes, with all those beasts yearning for parts of your mind? I’m assuming that’s part of it. Not to pry, I’ve just always found such things...” he paused, a gleam in his eye. “Fascinating.”

Watching the man begin to transform, he paid close attention to those bones reforming and warping in shape, finding it painful to watch but not so alien as to put him off. “Aye, if my reaction is anything to judge,” Abaddon replied to that bit about Quacian mages. “I wasn’t going to so quickly say it, but you’re amiable enough. I’m a mage. Hone, and Attunement are my calling. Do you know of them?”

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “In my experience, at least in Etzos, one can never trust a mage. Here might be different but I’m taking great care to avoid an untimely demise. You never know who you’re going to get, but there is something between us that makes me more willing to share. Perhaps it is because you are Lotharren, though with Becoming I do wonder if even that holds water.” Something was motioned and soon tossed to him when he opened his palm, and he caught the ...thing looking it over and holding it to the light at the mouth of the cave. “Totems, the Three Sovereign Substances, becoming other creatures, the bond,” he laughed, tossing it back to Fridgar in good faith. He felt as if he was holding someone’s loved one in his hand. It was warm, too. “I saw him, but it’s a lot to take in.”

“Ah,” he smirked. “I do remember something of the sort. I’m glad I wasn’t like that salmon, your morning meal.” He seemed to shuffle, putting his fingers together and biting his lip. “Speaking of meals, did we, ah, you know...?” he made a vulgar sign with his hands.

“I will, I just don’t fancy parasites.” His head pulled back and he went wide-eyed when that gigantic ax emerged from such a small bag. “That’s a parlor trick I’ve not yet seen,” he oggled. “Wow, such a beautiful weapon.” Like a child in a candy store, held it, feeling its weight against his joints. Were it not for Alistair’s training regimen, he would find it slipping his fingers, but he could at least hold it steady and admire the craftsmanship. “I’m from Yaralon, it’s a place where a good weapon is a sign of status. Never heard of Terrendyte, but then I was never in Uthaldria long. I’ll need to get me a weapon of the make someday.”

Kneeling down in front of the fish, he had no qualms carefully dropping the blade upon the head, and slicing the fish around, carving up the innards and leaving only the thick raw meat slabs behind. “Yeah? I might, it’s pretty slippery, but life or death means we’ve got to make tough choices sometimes. The Run saw me through harder trials. A little cliff will not be my end.” Standing, he sunk his teeth in and tore apart the fish with one hand while the axe blade rested by his foot, the handle against his thigh. Chewing without complaint, he swallowed like a man who’d lived either in poverty, or the wilds for much of his life.

Offered a ride back, he shook his head and spoke with his mouth full. “Mghn, much’d rather share shtoriesh with sha,” he gulped. “It can’t be so wrong to have some company.” He thought back to Alistair, and his mind instantly sagged in its emotional state, looking to Fridgar as if he were the answer to his problems. Listening, he nodded. “I’m weary just as well, Initiations are dangerous. You’re the only Becomer I know, though you seem like a great warrior, I’m unsure if I want to be your first botched disciple. Let’s put that subject off for now.”

To the subject of drinks, Abaddon’s white teeth shown visibly with a snarky enthusiasm. “You’ve got it, big guy. Fridgar?” He offered Fridgar his hand for a Lotharren greeting. “Abaddon Skaldori. It’s a pleasure.”

[Varthakh]

To hear that his magic had been dreamt of by this other Lotharro welled pride in his heart. Who knew that someone would want magic like this so badly? The magic that had both made and ruined his life... Somehow, words like that helped him to remember that he truly enjoyed the magic. It was truly liberating, to no longer be confined by one identity or even one suit of skin. With less than a thought, they could be whatever they wanted, whoever they wanted, and that was truly a gift, no matter how terribly Alistair spoke of it. Does your head get crowded sometimes? "When I'm stressed or feeling intense emotions, they can be a little hard to control... I've advanced enough in becoming that my totems can take my form whenever they like, but I can lock myself if appropriate," he snickered a little.

"You're fine, I get quite a lot of questions about it. All of my totems are like extensions of myself... but also not. They're... Hm." He paused to think, evidently, that was somewhat confusing, even for themselves. With a shrug, he took another totem from his bag and put it carefully on the floor before pouring his ether into it. At once, the bone burst in a wave of spiraling bone, muscle, flesh, and tan, thick skin. A second Fridgar was constructed from the bone up before Abaddon's very eyes... And, of course, he was naked. "I might be able to explain it better," he said, and the original Fridgar leaned back against the wall of the cave. "It's almost as though I've been born in another body and developed as a member of that species. We're all extensions of the Protean, but we have our own thoughts... Our own desires..." And his totem looked up and down Abaddon's half-naked form before taking a step toward him with a sly grin.

Immediately, The totem collapsed on itself and returned to a piece of bone and skin, which Fridgar caught from the air. Fridgar held quiet for a moment or two before sighing. "...Ignore him, he's a trouble maker." Abaddon might have noticed that the totem could hold eye contact with him with ease, but Fridgar's eyes darted to avoid it at every turn. Now though, his embarrassment might have been the cause of his apparent bashfulness.

"Hmm... Can't say I do." Fridgar had, unknowingly, lied. A man named Warren in Andaris had once used master-level hone to beat him to a bloody pulp. Only, they didn't recognize the name of the discipline. If they saw the runes or the effects of the magic in action though, they'd have likely recognized it. "Becoming and rupturing for me, though you might have already figured that out," he grinned, recalling their stunt with the blinking portal from earlier.

Hearing Abaddon speak of distrusting mages, their initial reaction was to try and defend the name of his kind by saying that they'd typically had good encounters with the sort. But, when they really thought about it... Warren, Vuuda, a few others to name. "Yeah, I see what you mean," they stood corrected. "It doesn't," they said in regards to whether their species held water. "I cannot be so easily defined as one species or another, neither is my identity set in flesh as others would carve stone. I am beyond the limits of malleable skin and brittle bone." Perhaps they hadn't intended to set Fridgar off like that, but it was plenty clear that this... Whatever they were... Was proud of what they'd become. For a little while, they'd almost lost sight of that, knowing what the revelation had done to their future lives. But what did that matter when they could live a million lives right now, totrial?

When the Lothar returned his totem, his overall demeanor seemed to lighten a little, and he smiled again. "I could show you my biggest totem some trial if you think that's hard to take in," he said cryptically. Perhaps Abaddon was feeding his ego too much? "Well, you're in luck, only one of my totems has tasted man flesh, and it isn't this-" they were cut off mid-sentence as Abaddon started making rather suggestive gestures with his hands, then they had to reconsider whether or not they could really say they hadn't tasted man flesh in this form. "Well, uhh... No, I don't think so? I mean... There are parts missing... And..." he sighed, recovering from his stammer. "...I've been having some problems with my kindal, my husband, my mate. Not only am I spoken for, but I'm not that sort of person, neither have I really been in the mood." They quite quickly realized that they might have put a downer on the mood, so followed with a quick "That and you were wasted, that would have been a douchey thing to do."

The last part was entirely in jest, but for the rest, they might have actually opened up to the other Lothar. They'd been wearing it on their sleeve for a few trials now, but no one had really been there to talk to him besides the echo chamber that was their head. In truth, keeping Abaddon around and feeding him did him a lot more good than the smaller Lothar might have realized. Actual human contact was something this totem had been deprived of for some time.

"You like it?" They asked as they let the weight of his axe into the other male's grip. The protean listened well to his story, then nodded. "Ha, yes, well they say that a Lotharro can carry the same terrendyte weapon for all their reborn lives... This one has seen better trials, but... I appreciate your kindness." They wouldn't even let themselves linger on the thought they weren't going to reincarnate after this life, instead, they kept speaking. "Well, if ever I'm heading back there, I wouldn't mind giving you a lift. They make the very best Terrendyte, probably the only Terrendyte, actually." Overall, this Lotharro was turning out to be quite the pleasant houseguest. He accepted the food they offered him, shared stories and made for good company. Perhaps initiating him wouldn't be so bad?

When informed of his imminent demise, the man just shrugged it off and went about eating the raw fish. The Lothar smiled again, all that effort hadn't been wasted. Abaddon ate like a true Lothar, too, which Fridgar could appreciate. No need for forks or table manners, food was food. No point fussing over what piece of metal you want to stab it with, or how pretty it was meant to look. Food was for eating, not fucking. And when he said that he wanted to keep talking to him instead of taking the offered flight out of there, it was hard not to sigh in relief. All of this though, it would be for naught in their next interaction. Alistair had mentioned Abaddon's name multiple times, both written and verbal. Abaddon was described to be another Lothar, one of Alistair's lovers. So, when Fridgar got up to shake Abaddon's hand, he froze at the mention of a name.

"...Abaddon, huh?" he asked with barely constrained anger. Then, his eyes met Abaddons... But no extra anger came. Fuck it. They didn't need to be more angry to express themselves in that instant. He yanked Abaddon's arm quite roughly, then dragged him across the cave. "Alistair.." he said through a growling snarl, baring his teeth. He gripped Abaddon with both hands and lifted him as though he were weightless in his grip... "IS MY FUCKING HUSBAND!!" He roared in a deafening bellow before he threw the smaller Lothar full pelt across the water, he cleared the jagged rocky coast, and bounced off the water, like a flat stone that had been tossed just right across the surface of a lake...

[Abaddon]

That little incident had Abaddon on the back foot, so to speak. A lot of personalities, yet each governing its own actions to a degree. “The control required to keep yourself sane and out of trouble must be legendary,” he remarked like a curious wildlife biologist in the field. “It’s a good thing I am not your enemy.” As to Fridgar’s own disciplines, Abaddon simply nodded. “I recognized the sound of that portal,” he said, scratching his chin as Fridgar went on about more and more details. “I discovered my own magic without a mentor, when it comes to magic I am but a child learning to walk, even still.”

When Fridgar was taken aback by has suggestion, he laughed. “I’m kidding. I don’t think I could get in the mood with you quite yet. To tell you the complete and honest truth, I’m still warming up to you, but you must be used to that by now. As to being wasted, I wouldn’t have had a regret. That kind of thing is a handshake in Yaralon, though with my last I at least attempted to try and keep some semblance of celibacy. I’ve been tossed aside, so that clearly got me nowhere.”

To the weapon, he nodded. “I’d imagine. I wish I’d had a chance to stay in Uthaldria more to learn about my ancestors, but it was not to be. Having you by my side, an exile would be a trifle, even the monsters in the wilderness would be easy enough to deal with while I earn the trust of the Kaer-Jeger.”

Unlike Fridgar, Alistair kept secrets. One of these secrets was about to go nuclear. As the words rolled from Abaddon’s mouth, his hangover-addled mind alerted him to the possibility that this man could be related to Alistair in some way, and judging by the way Fridgar reacted with that roiling glare of agonizing anger the Lotharro knew he’d made a mistake. His hands came up in defense, knowing he stood no chance. “Awake,” he called to the arm, and it made a valiant effort to try and wrench itself free before that superior inhuman strength the Protean possessed easily wrenched him off his feet with a blood-curdling snarl. “Wait!” Abaddon panicked. “I am not at fault, he told me there was nobody else! I’m in the same position as you!” It was all he could say before a girlish scream left his lungs after being lobbed towards the horizon. The wind whipped over his eyes, and his body already ached from the force of the throw dislocating his arm.

Husband?

Twisting in mid-air with the grace of a goldfish out of water, he managed to put his feet forward. I’m going to die.

I’m going to die. This is the end.

Kielik, my last thoughts go to you.

As he collided with the water, everything went black as his body hydroplaned off a wave into a twisting mangled mess before finally submerging into the ocean. Legs breaking, bones snapping, his legs were bent to horrific angles as his unconscious body drifted towards the bottom of the sea.

Yet, for the moment, as water filled his lungs, he was still alive.

To be continued in Part 2...

[Alistair]

Fridgar

Knowledges
Detection: A school of salmon under water.
Discipline: Remaining calm when the waves take your control.
Discipline: Not ripping the head off of one of your husband's toys.
Strength: Offering someone a heavy weapon with one hand.
Strength: Carrying a fat salmon.
Strength: Pulling the weight of your body with added water into a cave.
Strength: Overpowering a Runewright's strength.
Strength: Throwing a Lotharro.

Abaddon: Interested in becoming
Abaddon: Accepted your gifts
Abaddon: Forgave you for kidnapping him?
Abaddon: Your spark accepts him?
Abaddon: Likes your weapon
Abaddon: Practises two magics called Hone and Attunement
Abaddon: Likes to prepare the Salmon before eating it for some reason
Abaddon: Not a thot despite acting like one
Abaddon: Cheered you up
Abaddon: A nice house guest
Abaddon: You can open up to him
Abaddon: Named Abaddon
Abaddon: HE MUST DIE!
Abaddon: You tried to kill him in a fit of rage.

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15

Abaddon

Knowledges
Becoming: The Three Sovereign Substances
Becoming: Totems
Becoming: The Bonds Between Forms
Attunement: The Frequency of Self
Hone: Sound Trigger
Hone: Triggering a Rune By Sound
Hone: Strength Rune to Bolster the Arm
Meditation: Coming to Terms With Your Demise

Fridgar: Husband of Alistair Venora
Fridgar: Tried to Murder Me
Fridgar: Prone to Rage
Fridgar: Protean
Revelation: Protean
Material: Terrendyte
Uthaldria: Terrendyte
Magic Item: Domain Bag

Loot: Your legs are fuk't until Alistair fixes them on the 29th.
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15 - These points may be used for Hone.

Comments: Beat his ass, Fridgar. I'll have Frid be Alistair's clean-up guy, throwing Alistair's ex boyfriends into a blender.

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