[Scaltoth Jungle] No time like the present

21st of Ashan 721

From Tried's Mouth to the mysterious Tower, the waters around Scalvoris and the island itself hold a vast array of secrets, just ripe for discovery. Here are landmarks, jungles, mountains, forests and islands of note.

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Ralgar Warborn
Approved Character
Posts: 78
Joined: Sun Feb 07, 2021 7:23 pm
Race: Mortal Born
Renown: 180
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Wealth Tier: Tier 5



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[Scaltoth Jungle] No time like the present

21st Ashan, 721

Deep in thought, Ralgar picked up his club, the metal weapon heavy in his hands even with his strength beginning to recover. As far as weapons went it was unique, one that he had never seen others use much of. Clubs weren't uncommon, nor were heavy axes and hammers. Yet it was a strange combination of them all, a heavy club made of metal, weighing more than most practical weapons would. It was a statement. Ralgar was a powerful man before his injury had sapped the strength from him. Capable of lifting the club with ease and swinging it down on enemies, breaking their fragile bodies with just one heavy swing.

It was a state he was determined to return to.

Up in the air the sun was starting to lower in the sky, the evening soon upon them. Most of his days were spent resting or training now, but it was from uncommon for the Mortalborn to come outside and enjoy the sight of the sun lowering past the trees of Scaltoth. They lived in a beautiful place with wildlife unlike anything in Idalos, even compared to the rest of Scalvoris. This place was strange, yet those that learned to tame the beast that was Scaltoth could reap the rewards and live in a place of beauty.

Holding the weapon with both hands, Ralgar inhaled deeply for a moment, his body still far from where it used to be. He was healing faster than he had imagined, faster than any of the Bro'ky'na healers had told him he would, yet he was still far from where he wanted to be. With focused breathing, Ralgar took a swing with the club, using both hands to bring down the weapon into the grass outside his home. It was a quieter area of the tribal villages, the man living moderately far from any of the central areas, such as the social areas and the training grounds. After a long battle or a night of eating and drinking with the other members of the Bro'ky'na, the Deathkissed usually came home and wished for peace and quiet.

As he inhaled and took another deep swing, this time a sidewards swing that would have been at the ribs of an enemy had it been a real fight, he thought about the conversation he had with Kura. Slavers. Ralgar couldn't help but wonder how a man with such deep interest in such a sickening market had gotten as powerful as he was, how he hadn't been stopped before. Then again, slavery was not an uncommon part of many cultures, or so the Mortalborn remembered. By the standards of those with Immortal blood he was young, but thirty Arcs had let Ralgar see plenty of the world. Plenty enough to know that civilization was run and controlled by people with no morals nor care. That was Idalos. Pretenders who considered themselves better because of the clothes they wore and the money they had.

Yet they were just as primal as Ralgar and his brothers.

Placing the weapon down a moment, the Mortalborn took a break from his training, even though it had only consisted of a few swings of the weapon. Patience and time were important here, he knew. Pushing his body would only delay the healing further. While he wished to be out fighting with his brothers and sisters again, there would be many Arcs for that. If he were to live as long as some promised he would, Ralgar would perhaps be the first Bro'ky'na to see many generations come and go, living through them all. It would be many Arcs in the future if it ever happened. Death might catch up to him by then and take him into her domain. But if he could send others to their graves for long enough while avoiding his own, she would smile upon him.

Invigorated at the thought, Ralgar picked up the weapon after a minute had gone by and begun to swing again, lifting it over his head and slamming it down with a loud thud. While he was nowhere near his full strength, the man would be able to do significant damage with this weapon at his side. Any being that was struck would be hurt. Then again, unless the Warden brought himself to Scaltoth or to an open fight, it was unlikely to be him that Ralgar ended up fighting. Truth be told, the Mortalborn knew little of who or what he would be fighting, or when the fighting would begin. All he knew was the details Kura had told him, which had not been much.

As he swung his weapon to the left, Ralgar glanced and noticed a member of the Bro'ky'na approaching him. Sweat dripping down his body, Ralgar placed the club at his side and looked out as the younger woman approached, someone he was unfamiliar with. Perhaps a Newblood in the tribe? As she arrived she paused and bowed her head, ever way she moved formal and respectful. Whatever she had been before joining the Bro'ky'na it was clear she had some level of information about etiquette. As she raised her head and spoke, Ralgar leaned himself back against the wall of his home.

"Ralgar Warborn, Deathkissed of Bro'ky'na. Your request to speak to an Elder regarding the meeting with the civil folk was granted. As the sun rises tomorrow you are to meet with them and a small gathering of tribesmen and elders alike to discuss who shall go with you, if anyone" she explained, maintaining the formal expression and tone. For a moment the man didn't move, glancing forward to the woman instead, eyes cold as he calculated what he would say. It was an interesting message to receive, and an interesting way to receive it.

"Tomorrow at sun rise, with an audience?" he asked, standing a little straighter as he picked up his club in one hand, dragging it at his side as he took a few steps closer to the woman. Before she could answer his question Ralgar looked her in the eyes, the tall man having to lower his neck a little to make eye contact. "Do you have a name?"

After a brief pause the girl nodded, looking up at him. "Kiera" she replied. "I deliver messages for the Elders and help tend to the animals" she spoke, her formal demeanor still standing strong. Ralgar let a small grin spread across his face and placed a hand on her shoulder, patting it in a friendly manner. "You do not need formalities here, not like that. We are not like the civil lands you grew up in" he explained, the girl letting her shoulders drop a little as the tension broke. So many newbloods felt they had to be overly polite to members of the tribe that had been there longer as if it were a requirement to talk in a formal way.

"The last thing I wish to do is offend anyone" she said calmly, though the fear of being stood in front of a man as big as Ralgar was becoming more apparent as she dropped the act of formality. At that Ralgar chuckled a little. "I assure you, talking to us as you would anyone else will not offend us. You are Bro'ky'na now. Do not feel you need to talk to us differently" he said, the girl nodding with understanding and smiling softly back at him.

After another few trills of silence Kiera sighed and looked up at him, taking a step back. "Is that all, Ralgar?" she asked, the man considering for a brief moment. "For now. I imagine I'll be seeing you tomorrow at sunrise?" he asked. Once she nodded he offered his hand for her to shake, Kiera taking it and shaking it softly, Ralgar holding back a grin at how gentle she was being with a man of his size. Then, quietly, she walked away. Once he was on his own again the Mortalborn considered how he would handle the next trial, what he would say, and how he would explain his cause to the others. Talking about the slavery of his own kind was one of the most important parts, but would it be enough to persuade the others to help the civil folk?

With that thought in his head, Ralgar placed his club down next to his door, glancing up at the evening sun as it started to set. Before he retired for the night, knowing he would need rest, he started to walk towards the cooking area to see what was being made and what had been hunted during this trial. As he walked he prepared himself, mentally, for the next trial. If he'd had more pre-warning he might have used a ritual to prepare, something that could have granted him luck in his next endeavor. But there was little time for that now. Instead, he would have to be himself, to talk to the tribe as Deathkissed and explain why he wanted to help the civil folk with their cause.

Otherwise, he would travel alone.
~~Haltunga~~ Common~~
word count: 1549

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