67th of Ashan 719, ~9PM
After trials of meditation, they finally emerged from their state of dedication. With a sharp draw of breath, they woke from their efforts and found themselves on the beach as they had been when they began they began the process. Before them was the makeshift table, composed of two chunks of rubble with a door laid flat across them. Upon that table was the remainder of their totems as well as a few additions to their collective.
Three Ithecal totems laid on the table; one for each sub-species. There was the smaller, more dextrous Wyvarnth, the larger, faster Paltharnum, and the largest and strongest Thiussum. Before that though was their empty waterskin, which they had drunk the entirety of in their torpor. The image brought the light pressure in their head to their attention; a sign of their dehydration. They also found, however, that they weren't particularly hungry despite meditating for many trials now.
Reptiles, they knew, were incredibly efficient for their calorie consumption and usage, but they hadn't considered that such boons extended to the Ithecal, who used a lot more of their brains and moved arguably more. Perhaps it was because of their inactivity? They had barely moved from that spot since the 65th, after all. Whatever it was, they needed a drink of water. So, with a low exhale and a groan, the Ithecal pressed their palms to their knees and carefully rose to their feet.
Their body felt stiff, rigid and unused. They took a few experimental stretches of their limbs and groaned at the strain. It was a dull ache in their joints that begged to be worked off, to stretch and exert force, and as much as they would have loved to do so, they no longer had use for their temporary form. Though, perhaps they could hold on to it for a little while longer?
They collected their empty waterskin and summoned the three ithecal totems as guardians. They manifested in their natural green and brown scales, the three of them. While the Protean stood taller than two of them, the Thiussum beat even them for height. The three looked between one another before settling their eyes on their master. "You calls us?" The Wyvarnth asked, to which the protean nodded. "Walk with us, we would speak with you," they spoke aloud to the three, and the Thiussum nodded in agreement. "We would," he said.
With that, the three collected their dormant brethren and followed after the female wyvarnth as she headed deeper into the rainforest-like jungle. There was a river near-by that they could drink from.
"We welcome you three, you have joined us at a good time," the Protean addressed the totems without looking at them. "We have," replied the Thiussum. "You might have spoken with Majad, you might have not... Our family is damaged, wounded from the time we spent in the village from which we found you," they informed the three as they pushed aside a rather large shrub and continued to walk. "It is," the three of them agreed in unison.
Soon enough, the four Ithecal came upon the river, and Fridgar knelt at the bank with their cloth bag and began to filter the water. "It wounds us so to know that they are gone... That they will never return," said the Protean while they poured the filtered water into their waterskin. "They won't," said the Paltharnum. "You aren't to blame, we do not hold you accountable for their deaths..." It was only right that they knew that, they didn't want the tension of the past to make their newest additions feel uncomfortable. "We don't," said the Paltharnum in return.
With that, the protean stood and made their way to the village again, the four followed. "That was your Chieftain's doing, Varthakh's," spoke the Protean with a growl. "It was," the three of them said in tandem.
The village was still a fresh ruin of rubble and destruction all around. Bricks and broken wood jutted from piles of rubble and fields of the stuff scattered in fields of debris across the broken ground; this was the destruction Fridgar had inflicted at their weakest. The three ithecal still carried their totems while they walked through the ruin, drinking from their freshly filled waterskin.
"We hope the three of you find you're at home with us," the protean said as they clambered over a particularly tall piece of rubble. "We does," said the Wyvarnth, ever obedient. "We don't mean to subjugate you, you are free men and might take this form as you please," they said as they turned to the three and presented their form. "We mights?" The Wyvarnth asked, as though the gesture was not a kindness they were familiar with. The protean nodded once and continued to weave their way through the rubble.
"Soon, this trial will be a distant memory, and you will all know your place beneath our pale wings, truly one of our own," they said when they reached the beach at last. "It will," the three said again as one. With that, they dismissed the three totems, and the remainder of their family fell into a pile on the sand. Carefully, the Protean gathered all of them and stowed them in their domain bag along with the rest of their totem-building tools, which they had used to make the three ithecal.
Once they'd packed up everything and were ready to leave, they returned to the mound of dead Ithecal, all the innocents that Reiner had murdered. While they weren't too hungry, they would be soon. There was a long trip ahead of them. Without Fridgar to anchor them, they saw no reason to return to Koros, to Bjorn, Alistair, Dosan nor Kaelrik. All their physical and emotive bonds were gone, or so they thought. Those were the memories of a dead man, the whispers of a reality now lost.
They broke away one of the ithecal's limbs in the pile, then began to rip away at the flesh with their jaws and swallowed hungrily. Like all reptiles, they found this form devoid of gag reflex. Even when they swallowed bone, they failed to choke. Soon enough, they'd eaten their fill and their slow metabolism crawled to break down their meal. Their headache slowly eased while they both fed and watered themselves, and soon they were fully restored and filled with energy.
They sat upon the sand then and drew themselves into another trance where they focussed on their three ithecal totems, the three who had yet to be named. They were interacting well with Majad, Aeon, and Boomer, and even Reiner seemed to like them. They stewed there for a few moments longer, just relishing in the new voices that filled their head, the new desires, the new dreams.
To be whole again felt so nice. Even if they were without Fridgar now, these three would surely build a deep bond with them. Their values and standards, their honor and pride were things they could all work with, as Fridgar had taken some semblance of all those things at some point or other in his life.
They took the Thiussum as a base totem for their gestalt, then borrowed the Wyvarnth's dexterity and his prehensile tail. They took the Palatharnum's additional speed, granted by their streamline build and their sharp foot claws for added grip, then applied them all to the towering Thiussum of brutal and unmatched strength. With the image set in their mind, they let it take their form. They quickly grew in size, changed gender, and developed various new features.
Their scales were pale as expected, but their jaws drew into a broad V shape, they were harder to open but closed with such tremendous force. Their claws sharpened all around and their body bulked massively. They emerged from their trance a new being; a breed likely never seen to the world. They were a gestalt of all the Ithecal's sub-species finer features with very few of their drawbacks. They inhaled sharply in a draw of breath that almost sounded like a gasp, then reached for their face with their dextrous fingers.
They ran their sharp-clawed digits over their thick hide and carefully opened their long maw to inspect their teeth. It all felt so strange, so different. It didn't feel real, like they were merely sitting in the back of a wagon, waiting to be pulled by the horse. Their clawed hands explored their own form while they sat there in the sand, and they hissed happily at the development.
They interrupted themselves then as they spoke. "There is still something we must discuss," came their voice, far lower and gruffer than the female wyvarnth that they had spoken through just bits prior. "What is its?" They asked themselves. "We have yet to choose a name, of course." They replied. "We have," they said again as they turned their head to the left, then stood promptly. "We haves," replied themselves as they looked to the right.
They looked forward then and smiled softly. "We are Varthakh," they said as their hands came to wrap their jaws gently. "Why Varthakh?" They asked. "A trophy, a reminder..." They replied. They nodded then in acceptance. "Yes, Varthakh is a good names, it is strongs." They couldn't argue, Varthakh was indeed a strong name. And those who forgot history were doomed to repeat it... Not to mention the spiteful idea of keeping it as a trophy, as they'd killed that man. "Fine," they said, "we will be Varthakh."
They hissed joyously with themselves and continued to test their form, extended their limbs, ran and lifted to exert force. While they did, Fridgar came to realize just how monstrously effective this form was.
Soon enough, it was time to go. So, they let Aeon, their Sohr Khal totem, take their shape, then took to the skies with their domain bag in their claws. It was time to move on. They soared over the villages to the north, roaring triumphantly in the dead of night as they passed and took to the ocean, where they flew northward. They knew not where they were going, only that it held the promise of a new life.
After trials of meditation, they finally emerged from their state of dedication. With a sharp draw of breath, they woke from their efforts and found themselves on the beach as they had been when they began they began the process. Before them was the makeshift table, composed of two chunks of rubble with a door laid flat across them. Upon that table was the remainder of their totems as well as a few additions to their collective.
Three Ithecal totems laid on the table; one for each sub-species. There was the smaller, more dextrous Wyvarnth, the larger, faster Paltharnum, and the largest and strongest Thiussum. Before that though was their empty waterskin, which they had drunk the entirety of in their torpor. The image brought the light pressure in their head to their attention; a sign of their dehydration. They also found, however, that they weren't particularly hungry despite meditating for many trials now.
Reptiles, they knew, were incredibly efficient for their calorie consumption and usage, but they hadn't considered that such boons extended to the Ithecal, who used a lot more of their brains and moved arguably more. Perhaps it was because of their inactivity? They had barely moved from that spot since the 65th, after all. Whatever it was, they needed a drink of water. So, with a low exhale and a groan, the Ithecal pressed their palms to their knees and carefully rose to their feet.
Their body felt stiff, rigid and unused. They took a few experimental stretches of their limbs and groaned at the strain. It was a dull ache in their joints that begged to be worked off, to stretch and exert force, and as much as they would have loved to do so, they no longer had use for their temporary form. Though, perhaps they could hold on to it for a little while longer?
They collected their empty waterskin and summoned the three ithecal totems as guardians. They manifested in their natural green and brown scales, the three of them. While the Protean stood taller than two of them, the Thiussum beat even them for height. The three looked between one another before settling their eyes on their master. "You calls us?" The Wyvarnth asked, to which the protean nodded. "Walk with us, we would speak with you," they spoke aloud to the three, and the Thiussum nodded in agreement. "We would," he said.
With that, the three collected their dormant brethren and followed after the female wyvarnth as she headed deeper into the rainforest-like jungle. There was a river near-by that they could drink from.
"We welcome you three, you have joined us at a good time," the Protean addressed the totems without looking at them. "We have," replied the Thiussum. "You might have spoken with Majad, you might have not... Our family is damaged, wounded from the time we spent in the village from which we found you," they informed the three as they pushed aside a rather large shrub and continued to walk. "It is," the three of them agreed in unison.
Soon enough, the four Ithecal came upon the river, and Fridgar knelt at the bank with their cloth bag and began to filter the water. "It wounds us so to know that they are gone... That they will never return," said the Protean while they poured the filtered water into their waterskin. "They won't," said the Paltharnum. "You aren't to blame, we do not hold you accountable for their deaths..." It was only right that they knew that, they didn't want the tension of the past to make their newest additions feel uncomfortable. "We don't," said the Paltharnum in return.
With that, the protean stood and made their way to the village again, the four followed. "That was your Chieftain's doing, Varthakh's," spoke the Protean with a growl. "It was," the three of them said in tandem.
The village was still a fresh ruin of rubble and destruction all around. Bricks and broken wood jutted from piles of rubble and fields of the stuff scattered in fields of debris across the broken ground; this was the destruction Fridgar had inflicted at their weakest. The three ithecal still carried their totems while they walked through the ruin, drinking from their freshly filled waterskin.
"We hope the three of you find you're at home with us," the protean said as they clambered over a particularly tall piece of rubble. "We does," said the Wyvarnth, ever obedient. "We don't mean to subjugate you, you are free men and might take this form as you please," they said as they turned to the three and presented their form. "We mights?" The Wyvarnth asked, as though the gesture was not a kindness they were familiar with. The protean nodded once and continued to weave their way through the rubble.
"Soon, this trial will be a distant memory, and you will all know your place beneath our pale wings, truly one of our own," they said when they reached the beach at last. "It will," the three said again as one. With that, they dismissed the three totems, and the remainder of their family fell into a pile on the sand. Carefully, the Protean gathered all of them and stowed them in their domain bag along with the rest of their totem-building tools, which they had used to make the three ithecal.
Once they'd packed up everything and were ready to leave, they returned to the mound of dead Ithecal, all the innocents that Reiner had murdered. While they weren't too hungry, they would be soon. There was a long trip ahead of them. Without Fridgar to anchor them, they saw no reason to return to Koros, to Bjorn, Alistair, Dosan nor Kaelrik. All their physical and emotive bonds were gone, or so they thought. Those were the memories of a dead man, the whispers of a reality now lost.
They broke away one of the ithecal's limbs in the pile, then began to rip away at the flesh with their jaws and swallowed hungrily. Like all reptiles, they found this form devoid of gag reflex. Even when they swallowed bone, they failed to choke. Soon enough, they'd eaten their fill and their slow metabolism crawled to break down their meal. Their headache slowly eased while they both fed and watered themselves, and soon they were fully restored and filled with energy.
They sat upon the sand then and drew themselves into another trance where they focussed on their three ithecal totems, the three who had yet to be named. They were interacting well with Majad, Aeon, and Boomer, and even Reiner seemed to like them. They stewed there for a few moments longer, just relishing in the new voices that filled their head, the new desires, the new dreams.
To be whole again felt so nice. Even if they were without Fridgar now, these three would surely build a deep bond with them. Their values and standards, their honor and pride were things they could all work with, as Fridgar had taken some semblance of all those things at some point or other in his life.
They took the Thiussum as a base totem for their gestalt, then borrowed the Wyvarnth's dexterity and his prehensile tail. They took the Palatharnum's additional speed, granted by their streamline build and their sharp foot claws for added grip, then applied them all to the towering Thiussum of brutal and unmatched strength. With the image set in their mind, they let it take their form. They quickly grew in size, changed gender, and developed various new features.
Their scales were pale as expected, but their jaws drew into a broad V shape, they were harder to open but closed with such tremendous force. Their claws sharpened all around and their body bulked massively. They emerged from their trance a new being; a breed likely never seen to the world. They were a gestalt of all the Ithecal's sub-species finer features with very few of their drawbacks. They inhaled sharply in a draw of breath that almost sounded like a gasp, then reached for their face with their dextrous fingers.
They ran their sharp-clawed digits over their thick hide and carefully opened their long maw to inspect their teeth. It all felt so strange, so different. It didn't feel real, like they were merely sitting in the back of a wagon, waiting to be pulled by the horse. Their clawed hands explored their own form while they sat there in the sand, and they hissed happily at the development.
They interrupted themselves then as they spoke. "There is still something we must discuss," came their voice, far lower and gruffer than the female wyvarnth that they had spoken through just bits prior. "What is its?" They asked themselves. "We have yet to choose a name, of course." They replied. "We have," they said again as they turned their head to the left, then stood promptly. "We haves," replied themselves as they looked to the right.
They looked forward then and smiled softly. "We are Varthakh," they said as their hands came to wrap their jaws gently. "Why Varthakh?" They asked. "A trophy, a reminder..." They replied. They nodded then in acceptance. "Yes, Varthakh is a good names, it is strongs." They couldn't argue, Varthakh was indeed a strong name. And those who forgot history were doomed to repeat it... Not to mention the spiteful idea of keeping it as a trophy, as they'd killed that man. "Fine," they said, "we will be Varthakh."
They hissed joyously with themselves and continued to test their form, extended their limbs, ran and lifted to exert force. While they did, Fridgar came to realize just how monstrously effective this form was.
Soon enough, it was time to go. So, they let Aeon, their Sohr Khal totem, take their shape, then took to the skies with their domain bag in their claws. It was time to move on. They soared over the villages to the north, roaring triumphantly in the dead of night as they passed and took to the ocean, where they flew northward. They knew not where they were going, only that it held the promise of a new life.
