Same drill, comment if you have anything to say.



Tyrong sheathed his weapon, nodding to Wolfclaw as they walked back to the village, the other two already there. Even at the gates, they could hear the last ending sounds of battle, the ground a mess of detached Blight parts and mangled bodies.
As they entered the village square, the two met up with Riku, who had been bruised up protecting the girl and her family, but was otherwise relatively unscathed. Beverei soon rejoined the group, slightly worse for wear, his shield dented and a minor claw wound across the right side of his face.
The injured were brought to the village elder's home to recuperate, Tyrong and the others aiding the villagers in carrying the dead and wounded.
Wolfclaw stood at the gates, arm back in its sling under his robes, tapping a claw against the metal handle of his greatax, as Tyrong walked up. "What's wrong?"
"Celan. We need to check on him."
"Master? He's probably fine; Varlux most likely said that to get under our fur." Tyrong shrugged. "He's the best in Lasaad; well, besides you, since you're here."
Wolfclaw growled angrily, fangs bared. "Varlux's words are not to be taken lightly. He may be a villain, but he's no liar."
Tyrong's eyes widened. "Then we need to go now. Riku! Beverei!" Tyrong shouted, bringing the two of them running. "We need to check on Celan, the house would have been in the path the Blight must have taken to get here."
“Sure, but I have to be back fast, I need to help Nykita perform the sending for the dead," Beverei replied, strapping his shield to his back as he spoke.
"Kay. Let's go then," Tyrong said, turning and running off to Celan's, the other two felines following behind, Wolfclaw already out in front.
After a few minutes of travel, they arrived. Riku gasped, as the others stared on with a grimace.
The house, once a small and cozy shack, was now in total ruins, the front wall decimated by an inexplicable explosion, Blight bodies and parts scattered out from the house to the road, some resembling the very mutants Tyrong and Wolfclaw brought down not minutes before.
Celan slowly staggered to them, leaning his weight on his halberd, a large and fairly deep wound across his chest, blackened by obvious infection.
But, it's had to have been only a half hour since the attack, how could it be so infected? Tyrong thought, running to Celan as he collapsed, the halberd falling to his side. "Celan!" Tyrong shouted, diving down beside the panther, lifting his body gingerly from the ground.
"Tyrong... I take it the attack was repelled..." Celan coughed horribly, blood oozing weakly from the wound as he spoke.
Tyrong nodded, face grim as he surveyed the damage. "What happened here?"
Celan frowned, his eyes darkening slowly. "Varlux... he and his little 'creations'..." he coughed again, a hacking, ugly sound. "You must go to Damas, warn the regent lord there, he must know of this danger. Tell him Celan was witness."
"Master, no, you'll get to do it yourself, we just got to...." Tyrong stopped mid sentence, lost for words as the dark color crept outward from the wound in tendrils, visible even through his fur.
"No, young one, my time is short." Celan weakly pointed to the remains of the house. "Your chests with your belongings are untouched, I made sure of this. And here is the key to mine, Tyrong, it's yours now." With a shaking paw, he placed a small iron key in the young tiger's palm.
"Master... No...." Tyrong said softly, tears welling up in his eyes.
Summoning up what was left of his strength, Celan firmly grasped Tyrong's shoulder, looking into his eyes. "Tyrong, you are a guardian. Death will forever be a part of your life. Tears are not necessary." Coughing again, he continued. "My collection of falcas are for you to use, to travel to Damas and beyond, if need be...." He fell to the earth, eyes slowly dimming.
"Master...." Tyrong bent his head, holding back tears as best he could.
"Tyrong...." Celan's last breath left him in a rasp, his eyes stared lifeless into the void as he grew limp on the ground. Tyrong sobbed softly, closing the panther's eyes gently.
Wolfclaw walked over to the mourning tiger, standing over him stoically. "Gather your things Tyrong. Once you do, we'll bring him to the village. We can mourn and honor his memory then."
Tyrong nodded, slowly getting to his feet as he wiped away tears. "Right." Taking one last look at his master's lifeless body, he walked to the ruined house. Walking the familiar path to the remains of his room, he gathered the contents of his chest and put it in his pack, donning his armor to reduce the carried weight.
With Celan's key in hand, Tyrong walked into Celan's room, finding the lockbox and sticking the key into the lock. With a sigh, he turned the key and exposing the contents of the box.
Sitting atop a small pile of clothes was a dark leather pack, decent sized, but old looking. Tyrong's eyebrow rose looking at it, but he shrugged, packing the clothes under it into the pack and slinging it over his shoulder.
Walking out of the ruined home, he saw Beverei and Riku carrying Celan's body atop their shields towards the village. Wolfclaw looked at the dark pack Tyrong held, and chuckled softly. "So, he willed his most prized possession to you."
Tyrong looked at the satchel quizzically. "What, this old sack?"
Wolfclaw threw his axe into the earth, blade sticking fast in the ground as he reached for the pack with his now free hand. Before the tiger could protest, the wolf had grabbed Tyrong's other pack and, to his amazement, fit the overstuffed pack into the dark leather satchel without issue.
"Whoa..." Tyrong's jaw dropped in awe.
"We used to call it the Black Hole, your father and me." With a smirk, he turned to walk down the path, grabbing his axe and pulling it from the ground. "Get the falca you and Riku will use, then come down to the village. We'll have his pyre built by then." He walked down the path to join the others.
Tyrong, marveling at the lack of weight of the pack, despite the new extra packaging, went to round up the falcas from the stable.
Five feathered falcas, two black, a yellow, a green, and a red, all stood still, watching the tiger as he walked through the stable. His favorite, the largest of the black ones, watched him intently as he approached.
Petting the beak of the falca, Tyrong smiled. "Hey there, Herso." Grabbing his reins, he opened the door to his stall. "Come on, boy, let's get Jerdo and get into town, come on." Herso walked behind him slowly on long scaled legs, as the tiger gathered Jerdo, the bright yellow falca, and left the stable with them.
Walking them into the village, he tied them to the post nearby as he walked to the middle of the town, where the funeral pyre had been built, with Celan atop it. All around, the villagers were in various stages of grief over his death; he was a well beloved figure among the townspeople. Kylie, Nykita, and the others were on the outside of the ring, faces grim as the pyre was set ablaze, giving Celan the true warrior's funeral he deserved.
Slowly walking over to the three girls he rescued, he made sure they were all okay as he had promised. After getting a hug from each girl, Tyrong said his goodbyes and said he'd someday be back to visit.
Nodding to Wolfclaw and the rest, he walked over to the group. "We head to Damas after the funeral."
"What? Why?" Kylie asked, head tilted.
"It was Celan's dying wish, to warn the regent lord there of the danger. They raided through small villages with little protection before. But this was concentrated on a well protected town. It's only a matter of time til they up the game."
Nykita nodded solemnly. "The spirits of the earth tell me this is so. This is not the end, nor will it be anytime soon."
Beverei shifted his weight. "Then we should get our mounts and depart. The faster we leave, the sooner we get there."
"Right." Tyrong nodded to Riku. "I brought your falca from the stable on the way here, mine's next to him." Riku nodded, walking to his mount to saddle up.
"The rest of you, get what supplies you can, we'll need them." With that, the group split to gather their things, mounting up just outside the north gate.
Turning to the village elder, he quickly explained the situation and promised to send more warriors as soon as they reached Damas. After being wished safe travel by him and the villagers, he mounted up Herso, and approached the gate with the others.
Looking back at the smoldering fires of Celan's pyre, he vowed he would someday come back to this village, once he had done all he could to end this threat to the world. And, with Celan's pack tied to the saddle, he set off with the group, dawn's first light breaking over the horizon as they began their trek to the capital city.