PM to join Forgotten Ancestry Act I: Wrath Meets Prudence II

[Eridanus]

14th Spring, 506 AV
Zeltiva
Morning

In the next few days, Eridanus had almost forgotten about the incident as his work kept him superbly busy. Every day seemed longer than it should, and time dragged as he worked tirelessly from researching in the library to helping Wejerx out with experiments in the labs within the Toadstool Cluster. The days went by in a blur, a hazy momentum of constant scribbles and observation. There was a deadline, and damn if they were not to finish it on time. Finally, towards the end of the fourth day, Wejerx suddenly mentioned that they needed to pick a specific type of toadstool a little way outside the city.

"I'm a little old and not prone to traveling, would you kindly drop by and pick a couple of mushrooms for me?"

That had been the professor's request, and it was one that he could hardly refused. Though polite it was laced with hidden threats and the overworked student merely sighed - despite the advantages of being in a mentor-mentee program for magecraft this was undoubtedly one of the disadvantages; that the mentor tended to treat him as an apprentice-slave. He had forgotten the amount of times he made tea for the eccentric wizard already.

It took him the night to pack the required items and thus early in the next morning off he went, trudging (while grumbling silently) as he walked out of the Mithril Pass. The guards waved him by, having recognized him from his constant visits outside at the whim of his professor and he nodded at them cheerfully. A smile never hurt.

Outside of Zeltiva

The exhaustion though, was not evident in the visage of the heaven-bound vantha. Due to his heritage his form was a constant, always trapped in that particular moment of time that Leth decided would best suit his purposes. Therefore despite the late nights there was no eye bags, no wrinkles, no evidence of his harried schedule. Instead, it was evident in his stride, the lazy limp as he dragged his bag that contained the required tools to analyze and collect the correct mushrooms. A herbalist's toolkit of sorts.

He climbed a small hill a little off the city, not noticing anyone for he was more looking out for the signs that would spell the certain toadstool. Golden flowers below, orange flowers on top. That was the sign that would lead to hanging vines that were neither too thick nor too thin. At the base of such a tree would lay the mushrooms he sought. Scanning the skyline with a determined glare, the scholar spotted it almost instantly. With a sigh of relief, he hurried over, taking several more chimes to reach the place and to begin unloading his bag, using the tweezer to scrutinize and pick the mushrooms that seemed whole enough to be used in whatever inane experiment Wejerx had in mind.

He had no idea how herbs could factor in magecraft, which generally dealt with inanimate objects, but he only supposed it was to prove or disprove some hypothesis or theory centuries ago. Wejerx was kind of an a-hole like that, having disproved several theories that were dreamed up decades ago just so he could get a rush. Eridanus had no idea why anyone would want to do that instead of going for practicality; but then again, academics were an eccentric lot, and Wejerx was one of the worse ones.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

The morning streaks of light pierced through cracks and crevices of wood and stone, their intricate lines beamed down onto the floor of the room and gave light life into the room. A lithe arm warmly draped over his muscular chest as his eyes flattered open, fatigue oozing off his figure whilst he began to wake.

Senghor, he felt her bare arm shift and wriggle out his own momentarily before raising his arm slightly felt, heard the body naked body behind him stir in slumber, a smirk played on his features as slowly began sitting upright, with his right arm below his figure he used it as a pivot to slowly rise.

As his body shifted, he heard footsteps, large and heavy and let his lips curl up into a devious smile 'An the father's finally here..' he said to himself as he looked down at the door in front of him, the moving shadows indicating his thoughts true. Yet before he heard the loud voice of the discontent father he inclined his head and yet his golden gaze fall to golden-amber haired daughter, her voluptuous body clearly visible as the silk blanket they'd used to cover their deeds, her loud moans and sensual howls of pleasure.

Hinges cracked under a large weight, sharply turning his head back to the door Senghor heard the large man's pounding onto it, abyss the whole street heard it! Senghor quickly and hurriedly rolled out of the bed and fell to the wooden floor with his knuckles, tightening them into fists as he took up a mocking push-up position.

His necklace burned over his neck slightly as it moved around his neck and hung with a swaying motion in the space between the floor and himself, another heavy ponder onto the thick wooden caused the girl to stir in her slumber and awaken, in both fright and knowing of her fathers actions.

Senghor's elbows bent as he went down and looked under the bed, 'No... Not there' he told himself with a amusing smile, was he actually enjoying the actions before him?, or had so many situations like this happened that he knew when it was time to leave?

As his elbows straightened and he looked up at the young lass, peaking over the frame of the mattress, her naked body exposed to him as she turned and looked at the desert skinned young man with eyes of shock, she'd sampled forbidden fruit and enjoyed it Senghor could see it in her eyes.

Another heavy pound on the door and now the concerned voice of her mother intertwined with the chaos, the young man from Sunberth stood up and felt a gentle breeze caress his coated skin as he walked around the bed, his eyes shifted from the girl to his surroundings. 'Clothes everywhere!', he told himself as he bent down hurriedly to pick up his pants, boots and shirt, luckily he had self control went it came to matters of the night.

His undergarments were still worn as he threw everything onto the bed and held the girl yelp, her father added more force to his pounding as the hinges were beginning to weaken, the door was beginning crack apart as Senghor held onto his pants and began putting them on, he staggered back and forward, side to side and got only leg in.

'Gotta hurry!' his subconscious teased him as he pulled up his pants, eagerly trying to place his other leg were it belonged, he staggered forward as he kept jumping up and down in small skips of impatience, as he saw the bed he turned his heels and fell down onto the soft mattress, his leg slipped in as he pulled up his pants and hurriedly buttoned the pants.

His hands quickly began picking at the last articles of his clothing when he felt her smooth hands run along his back, up his spine, over his shoulders and around his neck, one of them slipped down and caressed over his cut features before she sultry spoke.

``Take me with you...`` she whimpered in hopes of drawing the young man's attention, her bosom felt warm upon his back muscles as she began to run her hands along his body softly. She was attaining to his attention yet when he heard the last and most resounding pound onto the door, he stood up with his clothing over his shoulders and turned to her.

"Let me just get my stuff, and than I'll come for you..." he lied, his voice backing up his fables as it carried forth a certain maturity. As the door began to fall and Senghor swore below his breath his eyes darted around the room for means of escape, yet there were none.

'The window!!' his mind told him with a kick to his ignorance, as the large silhouetted figure of the daughters father loomed about the door and his young wife behind him in the background, Senghor ran towards the window with all his might, he decided that a little damage to what he'd already caused wasn't bad as he jumped up and tightened his body into a fetal position, splinters and glass dug into his skin lightly as he shattered through the window and came up the other side, the street of Zeltiva below was filled with people around and they looked up at the young man fall out the merchants houses' window.

A thud caused by his fall echoed in the streets as he ducked under, and positioned his body mid-fall to caused minimal damage to him. As he fell, he rolled over continuously before halting and standing up, he could feel the merchants eyes on him as his boots fell down abruptly, he bent down to pick them up and kept walking to kill off all the attention drawn towards him.

As he walked, he decided to put his shirt on before ducking into alley to provide cover from anyone looking for him, moments later he saw a familiar figure walk pasted the alley..

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

'Eridanus...' he thought with veiled hatred as he peered his head forward, at the corner of his eye his saw the vantha walk towards the gates with a sunken stride, he was tired.

As the figure who might have known Senghor's father disappeared outside the city, the young man sat down and finished dressing. At a glance one would say he'd left his items yet he had just hidden them somewhere only he could find them, he turned the corner and blended in with the crowd of oncoming people with a steadfast stride towards the city gates, one would say he belonged amidst those people yet he just knew how to be amidst a ground and be a shadow hidden in plain site.

Eridanus was intelligent Senghor told himself as he walked behind the vantha, he didn't want to blow his cover, nay it wasn't the time to do such at that moment. He was unarmed yet that didn't mean he couldn't hold his own, he'd walked past some patriots of Zeltiva not so long many nights ago and held them speak of Eridanus highly, they exalted him and his supposed skills.

'Skills my ass...' he said as he walked passed the city guards, authority, on of the many things he dispersed. As Eridanus went up hill, Senghor closely followed not to lose his tracks, yet he wouldn't lose his tracks as they'd easily engraved themselves wherever it was he took stride, from the footsteps and their design Senghor observed that the vantha was tired, probably hadn't slept in a while, yet the footsteps were also somewhat experienced in the form of humanity, somewhat aged.

He found it an oddity, he hummed to himself as he looked at the footsteps before realising Eridanus wasn't so far ahead, the area around them had tree with leaves, rich and textured.


Climbing trees at his age wasn't a problem, as a child climbing wasn't hard if he could find the proper crevices and obscurity in the wood, in the future he found that one tree would give him a problem, he let his footsteps take the form of running momentarily before reaching the trunk of the tree, hiking up the trunk with fluidity as his fingers dug into the crevices and cuts of the tree, his right hand shot up as he grasped on a twirled branch, he used the momentum to lift himself up and into the shroud the leaves and branches provided.

He felt somewhat ape-ish at his actions, yet he quickly killed off the thought and let his eyes narrow, through the gaps the leaves provided he could clearly see the vantha as he was picking.... Flowers?

Senghor felt a need to laugh, truly such a act from a man who knew his father?, Nay this was just another man, a feminine one at that, there was no way he know 'Asad' Vilhjalmr....

[Eridanus]

It was evident that Eridanus did not take notice of the hulking benshiran who was stalking him ever so nimbly. The Wildlands were an open area, full of buzzing life from either nature or that of passers-by. While people may not be a common sight unlike the city, the streams of civilized life was more common in these parts due to the proximity to both the city and the Kabrin Road. Therefore it was more likely to have travelers, wanderers and adventurers walking by.

The vantha did not take note, humming to himself as he discarded yet another mushroom cap that were covered in green moss. It did not seem worth it to collect it just to scrape moss off, for Wejerx demanded pure resources, when there were still so many gathered around the base of the tree with the hanging vines, surrounded by the golden flowers below and the orange flowers on top.

Looking down, he looked at the golden flowers thoughtfully, remembering some random trivia he read about, about these types of flowers that grew near the Zeltivan wildlands. Apparently they were good for muscle aches when tea was made out of their petals, with further magnitude in effects if they were carefully brewed through some philtering procedures. He could not remember the details, but he would check it up again with one of his dormitory neighbors who first told him about it. He supposed he could find that book too, but asking a herbalism-cum-philtering double major was a much more convenient task.

Shrugging to himself, he grinned as he picked several of the golden flowers close by, storing them in another pouch so as to not 'contaminate' the purity of the experimental resources that his mentor demanded. Next he proceeded to look at the next bunch of mushroom caps to determine if they were worth taking back.

---

Unknown to Eridanus, the act of pulling these flowers and mushrooms caused an awakening of sorts a little distance away, and the earth rumbled softly in response. The 'violation' of nature would be met with punishment, and judgement was only a little distance away.

The ground shuddered as it quaked as if it were soft mud, and slowly, the vague shape of a hand was formed, parting the ground as if it were an egg.

The reckoning would arrive.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

Senghor leaned against a thick branch, he could feel it crack slightly under his weight, at that age he hadn't gained much weight but quit some muscle yet he was also quite nimble and of medium structure.

Oblivious to the coming tide, he could feel a shift in the weather as it gained humidity, a damp nature which he felt instinctively, intuitively as if a growing lust for blood and battle was forming rapidly. As of late, his lust both sensual and battle related had increased to a astronomical mindset and it was avid due to the night before with the merchant's daughter, seducing her was quite simple as all he had to do was tell of a life of adventure, freedom and treasure beyond comprehension and impressing her was far easier as he displayed a certain knowledge of battle and combat.

A smile, sly and knowing crept up his face as he watched the vantha with narrowed golden brown eyes, last night, he savagely ravaged at her flesh, he'd turned beastly, his rage devoured him causing him to sensual devour her in turn. He stretched out his leg muscles momentarily, bringing his right leg forward and bringing it back as if he was kicking up dirt, he repeated the process with his left leg as he moved to the side and off the branch to stretch properly.

Leaning back onto the branch and looking at the vantha, he looked at the learnt that his father, Asad Vilhjalmr, the man with countless names and titles was a man of many secrets, the informant, who'd given him the information about his father and mother had said many things which required a more than one pouch of Mizas.

He told him things, all of them probable lies, yet with his own parents he wondered what was truth and what wasn't as both entities were enigmas even to their our seed, their loved conception.

'Hmm... Deadly tidings' he told himself as he narrowed his eyes and looked at Eridanus, the lithe man knew something and he could feel it in his gut, the weather shifted as the earth rumbled unknowingly to them, the Vilhjalmr's weren't born fools and wouldn't die as fools either.

'He knows something...' he repeated in thought, he was sure of it, he had to be...

[Eridanus]

... of which the leaves can be grounded into paste, preferably mixed with a dash of integrating herbs and a harmonizing salve for a nice little mixture, excellent as a supplement to the fundamentals as an aid for exhaustion of the physical kind...

Eridanus shook his head a little, smiling as he recalled the musty old classrooms and the herbalist's sleep-inducing monologue. It was all true, though, when one bothered to go deep into the idea of what that meant. He had delved into books seeking what she had really meant, and he found out that integrating herbs merely meant the large variety of common spices that could serve as a standard base for most herbalism products, and that harmonizing salve was the same parallel in terms of philtering, in which it was more of an intermediary product.

"That's the last one," The student muttered to himself, picking the last mushroom cap into and placing it into the pouch, noting its properties and characteristics. He went over and picked up a few more of the leaves from the flowers on the ground, intent to attempt further personal experiments of his own.

Then the ground shook.

Mildly, and not noticeably for most people, but definitely evident to someone who was in a half-sitting and half-kneeling position, therefore most of his body felt the impact as a total as compared to standing people who only had their soles in contact with the ground.

A low moan was uttered from a distance, and trees and shrubs rustled. Eridanus sighed, turning and expecting to find some wildland creature being chased by some predator or something, when he found a vague mimicry of a man trampling through the bushes, apparently intent on charging into him.

"Of all times...", The vantha swore, and he briefly looked around to see if there was anyone nearby. Spotting no one (having not detected the carefully camouflaged Senghor due to his quick and careless survey), he breathed deep, powering the core of his muscles.

Djed began to concentrate throughout his body, lighting up spheres of his soul in specific areas as his mind quickly sought to control the surging energy. It was similar to attempting to wrestle a struggling octopus to the ground, and a bead of sweat rolled down the vantha's temple as he mentally directed his djed to key spots, ready to flow from one muscle to another.

3... 2... 1...

At the end of his estimation the single yukman came within range, and Eridanus struck him with all the force of a rampaging chariot. Due to his intimate understanding of not only his own body - in terms of internal positioning because of his numerous meditations and explorations with flux - but also with martial arts that he knew the various crucial points of leverage when making attacks. The unstable energies exploded in his upper torso first as he made the first swing. As his body began the momentum, the flux flowed down to his hips and waist, boosting the second stage of striking. His foot posture was wide apart by now, and the rear leg was next empowered by the sizzling magic, flashing forward in one fluid motion.

Combined with not only the supernatural strength of magic but also the compound benefits of enhancing each stage of the whole kick wind-up, when his boots made cnotact with the yukman it more or less shattered the fragile, freshly-born bones in its body, slamming it far away as it flew like a baseball, comically smashing against a treeIt's Seng's tree. Sorry! and shaking it tremendously.

Not bothering to see the effect of his attack, the vantha quickly packed up his things and placed it all into a bag, shouldering it as he knew that landspawn rarely came in a single number. It was likely that there was pack nearby, and this was just one who happened to spawn outside of their strange "hive-mind-like" range.

True enough, the distinctive 'yuk-yuk' chatter of the monsters soon came within audible range, and the vantha dissipated his flux forces to default levels, though before doing so he gathered them in his legs for one little added advantage. With a powerful burst of strength, he leaped away, heading into full sprint without the need for acceleration due to the aid of his magic.

Another yukman blocked him, and he simply placed his boot on top of it as he strode, acrobatically leaping into the air, kicking a tree as he flew to slant his descend downwards in another trajectory. And he kept running, heading towards the safety of the city where he could inform the guards of this recent developments. He could take care of them, of course, but it was troublesome especially without his blades and it would definitely get messy. And he had fragile vials and the precious ingredients he harvested earlier that he needed to get to Wejerx in one piece, so his priority was simply avoiding, evading, and generally getting the hell out of there.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

A simple and knowing sigh seemed to slipped with a slur from the lips human in the tree as he watched the vantha finish his picking at the plants, it was but a muse for him it'd seemed hence the son of 'Asad' didn't fight what he sought from the vantha.

'I was wasting my time...' he reminded himself as his left leg slid sideways from the bark which pillared him, he shifted his shoulder and moved from the bark he'd used for supported and stood with slightly in a straightened pose yet his left hand fell to the side and onto the branch he'd used to lean himself on.

The rough skin of the tree fell to his brush as he inclined his heard to the side, did he just fell a vibration along its structure?, he slightly removed his palm and nearly closed it yet he wrung his hand's fingers and felt the texture of the tree of between his rubbing fingers, specks fell down as if he was sprinkling some sugar onto a delicacy.

Closing his palm when his ears picked up the tired slurs of a entity known to human who'd studied the lurking manifestations of earth, brought forth as harbingers and heralds to send the humans to Dira, to Lhex and his ever shifting patterns. Yukman, the landspawn of his world he said to himself.

He'd met one when he traveled to Zeltiva yet had quickly dispatched of it because he was armed yet at that time it'd seemed it was a naive one, 'lost' when Senghor went into the wildlands to hunt for something to feed himself during his long journey. He kneeled down and bent his knees, seating himself on his heels as his feet bent and his toes were the pivot of his kneeling form, if he was on earth he'd have looked like tracker and hunter, looking at the footsteps of his prey yet he wasn't.

As he brought his hand back to the branch, yet that time he brought it along its side and caressed its center as hooked his fingers onto the other side of the obscuring bark, he firmly held onto it for two reasons, first: for secure balance and second: if he needed to escape or intervene.

His eyes slightly came together sternly, narrowing as he watched Eridanus ward off the Yukman, his eyes quickly opened in shock, his frowning lips parted as but three words left him...

"It can't be..." he whispered to himself as he looked at the steps, the foot work and flow that eroded off his fighting body, though lithe and somewhat untempered the desert skinned young man knew the movements of the vantha, they were similar to his, to what his father had taught him.

He watched, he studied with a instinctive nature as he narrowed his eyes again yet shortly fell off guard as he slipped into deep thought.

'I see now, yet... How can he move the way father taught me to move?' he asked himself as he looked at the yukman 'slip' away from Eridanus' attacks and headed right for his tree, his hide out.

"Shyke!" was what he shouted as he quickly strung to up.

Yet before he did, his arm twisted and he dug his fingers into the bark of the wood whilst his calves tightened and his ankles awoke, his mind grasped the form of the tree instantaneously somewhat when his right leg twisted shortly to left and dug into the branch beneath him, his left leg followed in suit as he felt the tree quivering with a thunderous force.

He brought his left hand forward and wrung it around the branch again and used it as a starting push forward, to the side the tree, he looked down quickly and sought a path within the woven branches and found it, adrenaline was his drug at the moment as he quickly stepped to the side, he kept repeating the process for no less than a minute and was bewildered by the site of earth.

His ears, and sight were lost to the doings of the vantha as he quickly tumbled down and onto the earth, he repeated his side roll and cushioned his fall as he kept spiraling sideways only to bring up his left hand and dig it into the dirt, his fingers hooked into the marshal soil with a firm grip as he kicked his feet forward and dug the soles of his footwear into the ground in as well.

A loud cough left the lips of the young man as he felt the dirt linger around his mouth and make his throat drier, he'd stopped his tumble and had planted his knees readily into the grown earth, he brought forth his right hand and covered his mouth as he coughed again. After he'd finished coughing out the remaining dirt, he saw numerous shadow loom over him, their imprint in the ground as whatever light beamed through the crevices of made by the leaves of the trees.

A shrill, copious shrills that fell into his ears caused him to raise his knees and look up, yukmen, they'd surrounded him like vultures awaiting their dead feast. "Shyke!" he roared as he quickly brought himself to his feet and looked at the human-mimickry, he'd startled them and made them angrier, their ferality would make that of wild animals as they attacked in somewhat of a pattern.

The first brought its fist towards Senghor, and he hit the attack away, the other did the same and he repeated the process. Encircled in a prison of death, Senghor could only try and compose himself in that situation yet his father had taught him that watching his opponents attack patterns would allow him a easy victory, yet what was a pattern when outnumbered?

He also remembered that if he was in that situation, outnumbered and encircled than patterns were necessary as they achieved a simple victory, yet with fatigue and unpredictability from his foe, he wondered how long it'd be before the punch, block and hit away pattern would last

[Eridanus]

As the vantha ran swiftly, he focused on evading the incoming yukmen who seemed to invade in all directions. However, due to his greater experience in dodging attacks while in proper combat stance and not in pure evasive maneuvers, the best he could do was to approximate based on his prior combat experiences and to augment it with whatever acrobatic techniques he had.

Still, it was not perfect, and even as he leaped over one, the second yukman behind the first swiped its claw towards his chest, and he was unable to avert the attack while in mid-air. His body twitched inadvertently on reflex, but because of the lack of footing and because of his arms being occupied with holding on to the rucksack of tools protectively, he took the full impact of the attack, shielded only slightly by a sudden jerk of his forearms to protect his torso, and he fell backwards, landing right on top of the first yukman.

In a strange combination of stumbling and wrestling as the vantha awkwardly fell atop the first opponent, his elbow crashed into it in a reflexive body slam due to the positioning of his arms high up in order to keep his rucksack safe from crashing on the ground and risk shattering its contents.

That was when he heard a yell that pretty much sounded human. Then the yukmen who were prone to mimicry began to follow that yell, imitating the "Shyke!" as much as they could with their underdeveloped physiology. Eridanus quickly got up, stomping his foot onto the first one as he sparked a touch of flux to increase the velocity of the 'curb stomp' to sweeten the deal and more bones cracked, the struggling opponent laying still.

Following where he first heard the cry, he swore to himself, look at the rucksack he held in his arms and swore again, heading towards that sound against his better judgement. That was when he found a certain, familiar-looking man standing in front of a tree trunk, surrounded by quite a number of yukmen, with more joining the fray as time passed. From the look of his knees and elbows, the soil and leaves that remain unbrushed hinted at a fall, and his positioning in front of a tree suggested a fall from said tree. The unmoving body of a single yukman before the tree with a caved-in chest laid beside that very same tree.

It did not take long for the student to put two and two together and to re-enact the events that happened.

"You!" He cried, pointing at the man who barged into his room while he was sleeping and breaking the door. "Why are you following me?" He demanded. "Atop a tree, no less!"

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

``You!`` he heard the cry with shrill and mimickry of his own words, a silhouetted figure ahead of the yukman clawing at him, the figure was pointing at Senghor it'd seemed
, ``Why are you
following me?`` He demanded from the young human averting a strike to his chest again, the yukmen had encircled the Vilhjalmr and were suffocating him with their presence, dead eyes were the mirror to an opponents predictability, behind him he could see the yukman raise its hands and outstretch them, and try to wrap them around his neck.

``Atop a tree, no less!`` said the vantha, the familiar voice echoed into Senghor's ears and caused him to utilize the battle to his whims, his father had taught him no less after all.

As the sluggish arms of the yukman behind him descent down and around his neck, he reared his head back and caved it into the yukman's face, causing it to lose momentum and balance, its hold on Senghor fell dead as the yukman in front of him came, hurriedly presenting its sickening claws to end the existence of the young man.

As his body was larger than that of the yukman behind him, he took heavy steps back to suffocate it and push it further away from him. A grunt came from the desert skinned man as brought up his leg, the yukmen kept their invasion towards him yet he was merely focused with one screeching in his straight field of vision. A thud echoed in the forest, grunts and groans of pain and confusion echoed, lingering in the ears of whomever may have been there.

The front section of the yukmen dispersed in a parting wave as the yukman coming towards Senghor was kicked in the chest, the force of the seemed to make it stagger back and flank its landspawn brethren whilst it fell onto them. With weak footing, Senghor fell onto the yukman that'd tired to restrain him, the thud and emitting groan beamed heavily, garbled movement truly was the dance of death's tune that morning as the laying young male abruptly raised his legs over his head and felt the lumpy ground touch the tips of his footwear.

He pushed himself and rolled backward to attain a trudged footing, as his tall figure kicked up some dirt and he heaved to catch what little breath he could, mentally he'd now obtained a pattern with the yukmen's attacks, they swept their claws aggressively but there was no coordination, no practice to their mimickry.

Aggression would be met with Wrath as Senghor's right leg raised and stomped the face of the yukman below him, his ears were met with the sounds of bones cracking, with enough adrenaline and rage the stomp was as a block of cement had fallen onto the yukman's face as he carved his boot's imprint into the monsters 'face', he bared his teeth like an animal, he brought out his arms to the side and half-clenched his palms they formed a twisted illusion as they curled into a steely pose and blood ran up, veins formed around his neck as he brought his head forward, all his muscles tightened and that'd caused his calves to clench up putting pressure upon the head of the monster below him.

It was said that the gods heard what they'd wished to, that with praise and worship they'd listen yet what came up from the core of Senghor that day, in the heart thumping moment shook even the violent and untamed yukmen. Whether the gods heard it, or any other malevolent, or benevolent being did, their thoughts would be ruptured by something immortal and undying, an insatiable rage that if manifested would rip the would as Ivak once had done.

Wrath brought, manifested within the core of the young man as to him the world turned into a crimson canvas of blood and war, his anger couldn't be sated, nor would it even be as tendrils formed to a twisted visor about his features, upon his desert face pulsed the pathways, valleys onto which his lifeforce moved. If a Djed Storm inhabited a morsel of humanity, it'd conceive itself in a ungodly concord, a concave of hatred, vengeance, wrath and hunger for blood within the young man's boy as he stomped onto the face of the yukman repeatedly, its brethren had even momentarily ceased their motion as they watched the bloody act of untrained brutality.

Senghor Vilhjalmr's wrath had filled to the brim and was now leaking out, out as a metaphor of his violent and ungodly actions, he repeatedly, like a sadistic killer stabbing its already dead victim again and again and again for pleasure, brought down his boot onto the face of the yukman, its now crushed skull had even imprinted itself in the dirt. A yukman's shrill of his words drew his attention, amidst the chaos he gazed angrily at the vantha and let his left foot step back, he slouched slightly and let a ear deafening roar, in all its unnatural splendor it shook even the monster that'd surrounded them both.

"Shut Up And Fight!!!" were the words of the rage dripping human as he slightly straighted his pose, at his side swept a pair of claw, he stepped back when he jerked his head towards them and watched as the lazily fell, he growled with an animalistic fervour.

His left hand snapped, with a quick flick of his wrist he brought his arm forward and cut off his fists momentum to punch the yukman, his right arm shot up and he opened his palm around the neck of the human-mimickry, his a rude shove and outstretched right leg the yukman fell forward and tripped. It shrilled as it fell on its face, dragging along for a moment before he brought down his boot onto its neck, snapping it in half. Senghor loved the lust, he wanted more!