It was perhaps the eighth break in the morning, the sun did its best to light up the stone cobbled streets of Lair, but no meager amount of light seemed to brighten up the plain, ugly stone architecture. As the trials went by, Fridgar only grew more and more sick of being surrounded by the fancy prison blocks. The Protean's heart longed for the forest, the vast wilderness filled with prey to hunt and life to explore. And with naught but a glance to their bag, they could transform into a mighty Sohr Khal and leave this land behind forever... But he couldn't. He finally had Alistair back, the love of his life, his Kindal. Even if Alistair wasn't entirely his anymore, he couldn't help but still love the man; they were soul bonded after all. The becomer also had Bjorn and Asher to consider, even if they didn't recognize Asher as kin just yet, they would in time. Loque also had to be taken into consideration; the excessively loyal, adventurous, wild Wyvarnth Ithecal that they'd purchased as a Slave. They couldn't just leave her, not in a terrible place like this.
The two were stood on a rooftop nearby to the fighting pit they'd visited just a trial prior, overlooking the street below. The doors were still closed, what were their running hours, even? "I hate waiting." Fridgar's voice echoed from the enormous Llewnos. Her black pelt had adorned a sheen of violet as more and more of the rising sun met with her midnight black fur. The glow of her purple eyes died down as more and more light filled the world around them, making her night vision redundant. Atypical to the majority of her kind, thanks to Fridgar's mutations, she stood seven and a half feet tall on all fours and measured around fifteen feet long from nose to tail. She was a beautiful, graceful force of nature that the Protean adored. "Hold on tight. We're going in." Fridgar's voice warned, then walked to line themselves up with the taller roof of the arena.
Loque would be forgiven for thinking that the mage was joking, but they were dead serious. "Ready?" His voice warned again in a broad echo. Then, in a quick extension of her feet, she bound forward like a tensed coil for a couple of paces before digging her claws firmly into the edge of the rooftop. With all her power and momentum, she leaped off the edge of the rooftop and dived for the higher arena... Then, unknown to Loque, she stepped off of places in the air and gained an aerial advantage. In truth, the protean had utilized their lesser magic, Rupturing, to skystep. It was a minor ability that created tiny portals to step off for a split trill, and they used it to parkour. Even with the aid of the stepping portals, it looked as though she was going to miss the ledge. So, with a powerful leap, she sprang forward and clasped the edge of the building. Her claws, while they weren't designed for grasping stone, were far stronger in Fridgar's grasp. She dug in and scraped and clawed while danging off the edge of the building, perhaps four stories off the street.
"Hold on!" His voice came while her form growled. Finally, she managed to gain leverage with her hind paws and pulled herself to the rooftop. "Are you alright?" The Protean asked while she walked toward the center of the roof, where a large circle had been cut out. She leaned her head over the edge and inside was the dirt and sand floor of the arena. That would be the best place to search for clues, at least until Calvin turned up. The two were on a hunt of sorts, they were searching for their prey, which happened to be a powerful mage that had beaten Fridgar unconscious just the night prior. The bear had told them to find him and learn his craft, and he intended to do just that.