1st Day of Winter, 516 A.V.
Morning/7th Bell
Morning/7th Bell
ooc :
As the dawn broke, Quzon had already been wide awake to welcome Syna bring the new day. His campfire roared brighter than it usually did at such an early time. Normally he would only let it die down to embers, but preferred to have enough sparks to catch flame quickly. That meant he lived off of sporadic light naps, and waking up to add dry bundles of dense grassy thicket to the fire when it got low, but that was nothing new to him. It didn't really matter if you were in a dangerous jungle or grassland, truly restful sleep was a luxury one learned to go without to survive. But today wasn't about that. Today was a very special day to him that he always celebrated back in Taloba, Myri's day of birth!
At first light, the normally quite Quzon displayed a yell of maniacal fury, a harsh warcry filled his lungs with euphoria of exaltation in all meaning of the word towards Myri. He jumped in to the air as high as he could then stomped onto the ground, his bulky form rhythmically swaying from side to side as he clapped his hands. He moved his body to the beat of a million drums that he could hear within his mind, just enjoying himself.
Quzon was no dancer, but he had one skill that he knew he could use to aid him in the celebration. While his people were magnificent interpretive dancers, he had no grace for that, so he chose to try and emulate Myrian fire dancers.
"Your call to battle makes my heart want to dance! So I shall dance for you my Queen-Goddess!" He yelled in Myrian towards the sky while drawing his ax from his belt, then ran the palm of his right hand across the blade. He used his freshly drawn blood to paint all his weapons crimson red. He used the self mutilation for the sole purpose of turning his chakram, ax, and hunting knife into symbol that represent Myri, Blooded weapons. And after he was done, he placed each weapon around the campfire to form a makeshift shrine.
The genuine emotion he displayed while honoring the goddess who marked him caused him to smile. He used that emotion as a trigger to concentrate his djed, making each savage war cry as an incantation, and his outstretched hands to the sky to work as a gesture to urge his djed into flowing forth from his palms as ethereal glowing res. The res accumulated into an apple sized gaseous cloud floating a foot in the air above him.
Quzon slammed the heel of his foot down as he lifted the other to stand on one foot as he stared into the flames. He started to manifest his will through his res, a will that wished to be one with fire. And as a result, Quzon's res began to attract a stream of flame that ignited the outer layer of res in orange flame; He kept control of the fireball by leaving the center filled with res.
He never allowed it to leave his range of control, keeping the ball gravitating around his body two feet away from him. He glanced around to see a few people watching him; a pale man in a loincloth, bleeding from one hand, dancing with the grace of a bull, and playing with fire. In broken common, he tried to give them a reason for his madness. "Praise Myri! For it, her. First... life day!"
At first light, the normally quite Quzon displayed a yell of maniacal fury, a harsh warcry filled his lungs with euphoria of exaltation in all meaning of the word towards Myri. He jumped in to the air as high as he could then stomped onto the ground, his bulky form rhythmically swaying from side to side as he clapped his hands. He moved his body to the beat of a million drums that he could hear within his mind, just enjoying himself.
Quzon was no dancer, but he had one skill that he knew he could use to aid him in the celebration. While his people were magnificent interpretive dancers, he had no grace for that, so he chose to try and emulate Myrian fire dancers.
"Your call to battle makes my heart want to dance! So I shall dance for you my Queen-Goddess!" He yelled in Myrian towards the sky while drawing his ax from his belt, then ran the palm of his right hand across the blade. He used his freshly drawn blood to paint all his weapons crimson red. He used the self mutilation for the sole purpose of turning his chakram, ax, and hunting knife into symbol that represent Myri, Blooded weapons. And after he was done, he placed each weapon around the campfire to form a makeshift shrine.
The genuine emotion he displayed while honoring the goddess who marked him caused him to smile. He used that emotion as a trigger to concentrate his djed, making each savage war cry as an incantation, and his outstretched hands to the sky to work as a gesture to urge his djed into flowing forth from his palms as ethereal glowing res. The res accumulated into an apple sized gaseous cloud floating a foot in the air above him.
Quzon slammed the heel of his foot down as he lifted the other to stand on one foot as he stared into the flames. He started to manifest his will through his res, a will that wished to be one with fire. And as a result, Quzon's res began to attract a stream of flame that ignited the outer layer of res in orange flame; He kept control of the fireball by leaving the center filled with res.
He never allowed it to leave his range of control, keeping the ball gravitating around his body two feet away from him. He glanced around to see a few people watching him; a pale man in a loincloth, bleeding from one hand, dancing with the grace of a bull, and playing with fire. In broken common, he tried to give them a reason for his madness. "Praise Myri! For it, her. First... life day!"
