#u let me kno if this is iight

[lotharx]

starter for @ormir.

where: hrimthur's wastelands.

when: dusk of some random week, lothar's huntin'

note: miss cracker voice: kaitlyn its time for dinnnnneeeeerrrrrr

Survival was this pettish thing; basic manners, tact, and grace forgotten as the elements clawed at each survivor, as starvation and mortal wounds dared to pull them past the brink. Not that the brute of a man, this mortal supplied by alchemist tinctures, had ever been known for his tact and graceful resolve. No, he'd long abandoned such fundamental fixtures of generic poise; it'd been beaten and splintered out of the whelp of a boy he'd once been once the Warrior's Guild had accepted him into their initiations. Violence was this innate piece of the guild, but it had it's rules and limitations, it had it's places carved amongst the chasms and cloisters of each society. Iskaldrik was not known for being plush and forgiving, he'd learned that as a boy, but it was the guild that had refined such sentiment within him, allowed him to be this wretched thing that was devised as more beast than man.

Such teachings and the scant reservoir of tinctures tucked away in his satchel had prompted his survival through each damning trial of the Wastelands. He'd known ever since they'd slipped forth from the hidden channels carved into the jagged fissures of mountain -that this was only the beginning of the end for many who had tagged along for salvation.

Death was a kindness for what greeted them along the way and the pyre mounted and burning at Nornwatch Keep was this last vestige of kindness they could give for the lives sacrificed to pestilence, famine, and death. The Ax curled his fingers around a short dagger watching silently as a snow hare, ragged too from the elements, attempted to nibble at the bleak foliage of the Wastelands. His stomach growled in anticipation and it was enough for the hare to spook, dashing off into the sanctity of a burrow as Lothar's lips curled in self-contempt. When a branch had splintered in the foreground of his sight, the Ax soon realized it was not his grumbling hunger that had alerted the hare, but another within the sloped terrain.

Many had gone off in groups but Lothar had always been this solitary creature; he needn't wish to ensure safety for anyone unless it was a life or death instance, anyone tagging along to his hunt merely would get in the way. "Thought you were supposed to be the deft one between the two of us," there's a sliver of surprise wedged in his tone as Ormir slips from the shadows; the Interim King, the Raven-Feeder. Life was merciless and the span of Ormir's legacy crept around them, men carved from circumstance and opportunity, but only one regaled in the circles of royalty now.

[startnone-a]

[text] Ayo V. I've been having that Braniac nightmare again. Is it cool I crash with you this weekend? We could get some work done, order pizza. [text] I need a distraction, bro.

  [ ✉ To:  Richie-Rich ]

  [ 9:45 A.M. ] Honestly, you caught me at the worst time, bro.

  [ 9:45 A.M. ] If you want to be distracted by sorrow and grief, come on by the funeral home. That’s where I’ll be for the next couple of hours anyway. 

 [ 9:46 A.M. ] cant tell u how long this is gonna take. 

 [ 9:47 A.M. ] or w8. u could contact the big boys in space. JJ could probably help with that. If u go let me kno how it goes, iight?

@legendmaade