26th of Fall, 512AV
Sanctuary was looking better, Razkar thought as he and Mrrko cantered under the archway and into the main courtyard. The piles of debris that had been bonfires were cleared way. The very stones his horse walked on were twisted and molded into spike to fight their enemies. Now they had returned to their proper shape, innocuous and innocent.
Razkar smiled down at them as he dismounted Mrrko. Like a cat's claw, as the scholar said. You'd never know it was there, unless you'd seen it in action.
The smell of the place hit him hard, like it always did. A combination of herbs, manure, animal hide of all kinds. Horses whinnied in the stables to his right, a high sound made mournful by the echo in the wooden building. Grunting and snorting juddered into his ears from the south, pigs and goats adding to the symphony.
The Myrian tied up his horse and surveyed the place that was a battlefield not long ago. Much blood was spilled here. Many trophies were taken, and he saw much that would give him cause for pride later on. And not just in himself.
Razkar chuckled softly to himself and fingered his new necklace. One would assume they were chicken bones, at a distance. Without that distance, however, they would be revealed for what they were.
Finger bones. Zith fingers, to be specific.
Razkar hefted his shortbow from off the back of Mrrko's saddle and draped it over his back, along with his quiver of arrows. His ax and gladius were at his belt, as always, but he had trained with them already. Especially with one man in particular. For now, their business with more... close quarter weapons was concluded and each man had learned much from their sparring days before. But now Razkar was eager to learn with the bow.
And who better to teach him than Vanator the Dryska, who had offered his expertise in this artform?
He secured his weapons and marched off into the clinic to find the man in question.
Sanctuary was looking better, Razkar thought as he and Mrrko cantered under the archway and into the main courtyard. The piles of debris that had been bonfires were cleared way. The very stones his horse walked on were twisted and molded into spike to fight their enemies. Now they had returned to their proper shape, innocuous and innocent.
Razkar smiled down at them as he dismounted Mrrko. Like a cat's claw, as the scholar said. You'd never know it was there, unless you'd seen it in action.
The smell of the place hit him hard, like it always did. A combination of herbs, manure, animal hide of all kinds. Horses whinnied in the stables to his right, a high sound made mournful by the echo in the wooden building. Grunting and snorting juddered into his ears from the south, pigs and goats adding to the symphony.
The Myrian tied up his horse and surveyed the place that was a battlefield not long ago. Much blood was spilled here. Many trophies were taken, and he saw much that would give him cause for pride later on. And not just in himself.
Razkar chuckled softly to himself and fingered his new necklace. One would assume they were chicken bones, at a distance. Without that distance, however, they would be revealed for what they were.
Finger bones. Zith fingers, to be specific.
Razkar hefted his shortbow from off the back of Mrrko's saddle and draped it over his back, along with his quiver of arrows. His ax and gladius were at his belt, as always, but he had trained with them already. Especially with one man in particular. For now, their business with more... close quarter weapons was concluded and each man had learned much from their sparring days before. But now Razkar was eager to learn with the bow.
And who better to teach him than Vanator the Dryska, who had offered his expertise in this artform?
He secured his weapons and marched off into the clinic to find the man in question.
