The fate of the desert was unsurprising. Rumors abound of the depths of tragedy that befell Watari’s ancestral home. While predicted, the foreknowledge did little to lessen the sorrow it afflicted in his soul. He tried to warn them, but few listened. The only comfort he could find was that his family and the Eternal House had survived the collapse. Their exodus, while arduous, was the only recourse left. Watari made a mental note to visit his mother once he had concluded his business. Florentina was one of his remaining allies in an otherwise antagonistic world. The general found it wise to maintain their friendship. Their reunion proceeded without an episode. They conversed about the event that brought Casimir and the other offworlders to their nation. They also shared their strategies regarding the defiled. That way, should those interlopers materialize, they would be on the same page.  Times were indeed bleak. No matter how Watari tried to look at it. There was no denying the unavoidable reality of their predicament. War was coming, and many soldiers would pay the price so those who followed might know security. The thought of their sacrifices weighed heavily in his spirits. He kept his composure while in the meeting room. But it would fade once the door was secured behind him. Watari sighed, closing his eyes for a second as he mustered his resolve. Those peach eyes opened as his nose picked up an exotic combination of fragrances. His attention veered to the source. Those peach eyes met Indemira as she lounged about the trophy room rather lackadaisical. A shaitan, here? No doubt she hitched a ride with the Eternal House. What stood out even more peculiar was that she seemed at ease in Florentina’s abode. Could she be one of the proteges the giantess took under her wing? A funny thought, given how properly Indemira portrayed herself. It seemed improbable that she’d survive the physical training, let alone suffer the slime of the swamp on her otherwise blemishless skin.  Watari approached as his eye didn't stray from her presence. The Nokhoi stopped as he stood in front of her. Those peach eyes peering through the shadow of his hood and down at the patrician. Her body language was odd, it left the officer to consider whether she was waiting for him or Florentina.  “The tactician will be busy for some time…” He spoke monotonously. Watari’s eyes subtly took in her voluptuous build and snobbish aura. The fact she didn’t budge but kept on drying her nails was enough. Peculiar, why would a knife ear be accosting him? Should he even humor her?  He ultimately opted to entertain the possibility and to see where it led. “Unless you’re waiting on me? Alright, knife ear. You’ve piqued my interest. Speak. But you should know that my time is limited.” He declared with a sign. His muscular arms folded against his breastplate as the armored general stood confidently before the noble.  “My name is Watari Jorgenskull. I assume civility hasn't died along with the desert.” Watari asserted as his brown ears flicked and tail swayed. That harsh demeanor was an attempt to conceal his internalized anguish.

Death; there was no more joy to be found in the hermit’s heart, his pure garden of a home was now corrupted in blood. The last of his old companions had been butchered like a wild animal by a man who once bore the title of friend, with his men now littered in his realm. All had been reduced to lifeless dead as the sky thickened in grey clouds that allowed no light to pour down to guide them into the heavens. It had all been soiled, any tree or flower of the garden had been stricken with death as any sense of peace withered away as the wind picked up. Chilling howls could be heard in the air; demons of every past had flooded the garden. I’m miserable. Which way shall I fly? Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell. The ring leader of corpses stood alone in the world of living against two foes. He looked back at his band of begotten souls and to the giant who performed it all. It all happened so fast for him, one moment the two were ahead of him and the next headless. And still his rear was hastily being pursued by an enraged cripple, which he turned to face. Gerald’s shield came ahead to meet up with Dramon in a clash. The reignited killer slammed right into the shield, his body smacking against it violently as the two also collided heads. The adrenaline and boiled blood drove him to recover much faster than his opponent, giving him the edge to take care of this pesky shield. The still dazed Gerald was unaware that Dramon now reached around to pull at his straps which loosened the shield. By the time he was able to realize what was happening, it was far too late, the cowardly defense was torn away and thrown off to the side. The surprised knight could only curse as he threw himself off of Dramon while he dealt away with his shield. He took the necessary steps back, as he rose his hands getting ready for what was next. His attacker soon faced him again, his eyes crazed with pain as he stopped his berserker onslaught. He stood his ground and observed his foe ahead, not willing to break eye contact even as Valerna spoke her piece. It would be a fight to the death, no interruptions… although a bit of a cruel way she had put it, but it was nothing less than the truth. Knight against knight, how fitting. Of course Gerald could just run, she never said anything about living to fight another day, however there wasn’t a guarantee she wouldn’t end him herself if he decided to flee. Besides, she offered him the uninterrupted chance to retrieve his golden ticket home; the head of the Dramon. He even had the advantage, a dagger in his belt and he was up against a one handed opponent who was unarmed. Not to mention the man had came all this way, wasted five years on hunting him and lost four men in only five minutes or less, and here was a golden opportunity to have it all mean something. The enemy fixed his stance as he drew his dagger. Meanwhile Dramln had remained watching intently, clenching his left fist knowing the odds were well against him now. “Damn it..” He said under his breath, his teeth gritted as assumed a boxing stance. His nub waved in the air like a pathetic stick as the sleeve rolled down. This was it. The two began to shuffle about, circling one another, waiting.

Approved

The youngest among the band had been brutally vanquished, his flame extinguished so violently that it was the rest of the men who were frozen in place now. To lose two comrades they had known for a little over five years in just mere moments sent chills down all their spines. Granted this band of men had it coming with all the crimes they had committed against the Drakarian people, this was no more than their day of reckoning. The masked swordsman and spearman turned to face Valerna as they stumbled back out of fear that they'd be next while Gerald stood shocked that his leadership got nearly half his squad slain in under three minutes. It had all been far too easy for these men up to this point, picking on the weak for entertainment this las half decade, but now they actually faced someone far too great for them to handle. An avenging menace had snapped them back into reality. The two mercenaries fled quickly, with no time to think of questions like "how," or "why," there was only one command of the brain, "run." They zipped past Dramon and followed by passing Gerald who didn't even have the strength to bark at them to stand their ground. His arms fell, his shield wobbling while he barely was keeping a grip on his sword; he still processed what had just happened while he was being called for by the others to retreat as well. Meanwhile, Dramon stood atop his stead as he too was observing the veracity Valerna had displayed. His gaze soon came back to Gerald, there was no time to gawk at raw power, he needed to finish this. If those three got away, especially Gerald, his home would be surely compromised; and whether the Numerians were occupying the land or not more threats would eventually find their way here. The left arm was pulled close to his body, the wedged blade of the axe curled up and around his upper right as he prepared to land it into the side of his head. Gerald was still docile, it was his perfect chance while he also had the higher ground. But the poison of hesitation seeped into his soul, he hadn't killed in four years, not to mention Gerald was thought of as a friend still. Dramon was conflicted in delivering any blow to Gerald, he was more confused as to why they sent him of all people, not that it mattered he had just tried killing him. However, that same killer instinct he had in a past life wasn't nearly strong enough now to deliver a killing strike to an old friend. Flashbacks to mugs of ale being shared, military exercises, their missions together and women they flirted with all came in. He couldn't do it. Unfortunately for Dramon, his old friend did not hold the same feelings, and when he refused to send in the strike Gerald eyed over realizing what could've just happened. In a flash like response, he snapped back to deliver one last blow, "killed or be killed" is how he saw it. Gerald's sword was sent at Dramon's exposed stomach with a jab, there wasn't any time for him to move, his inability to do anything would be the end it would seem. Without his armor, he was more vulnerable to being impaled, it certainly wasn't like the old days... In the last moments he had left, Dramon was torn as his mercy was returned with merciless hate towards him, this mistake would be his last. Yet, like a hero among the wildlife his loyal companion launched its front legs in the air, propelling its master off as the sword was plunged into the horse's belly. The mare screeched as the one-handed rider watched his partner shriek a cry of a death as blood spilled from the wound and Maine stiffened as he fell. Dramon would hit the ground, getting scrapped up by dirt and rock with his axe having flown from hand upon impact. The man rapidly shot up to see Maine down with a an entire sword stuck within him, his animal was kicking about as it quickly lost energy and fully went limp with death. The hermit's heart was wounded he felt it was ripped a part within his body like it had been shredded by a thousand daggers or made to vanish like a sick magician's magic trick. In that brief time of emptiness where his heart used to be something snapped within that released the chemical stew within the brain that only breaded one thing; rage. It sowed deep within as it built up in a near instant flash of the moment before charging the gates of the spirit, demanding it be released onto the world. Gerald had lost his sword to the horse and while he reached to tear it out, did the corner of his eye catch a flying axe hurdling towards his head, forcing a quick response to hold his shield up as it slammed into it and stuck. When he pulled it down, he had little to no response time as Dramon was rushing ahead as his right nub was sent from his body, across the air and striking the mare killer's jaw as he was sent backwards. There be a man before him screaming louder than any bore in the forest, roaring louder than any maddened king and more furious than any God who ruled above. The old friend was now a target of revenge, but the chance to deliver such an act would have to wait for another time as Gerald was called once more to flee from the monster. Being reminded of that threat he quickly made haste with the others. The man wouldn't take a retreat for an answer, and stupidly like a village idiot charged after the three while he howled in anger at the loss of his beloved horse. He disregarded everything else, sending anyone or anything at all the void as he pursued his horse killers with murderous intent. If he had to do it with his bare hand so be it, if he had to bruise up his nub more to spill blood it would be done. Whatever it takes.

The archer above had been drawing another arrow at the point of Valerna's attack, being completely caught off-guard the webbing stuck like a moth to a flame. In the mere moment before his demise, the only question that came to mind was why the 'mindless beast' had defended the man, but answers to that would never come... With a jerking motion, he was instantly ripped from his position as he fell off the ledge and down into the abyss. A shrieking scream flooded the ears of the five humans as they all spun to just see the last glimpse of what just happened. Spot had been killed. Dramon was shocked, she really wasn't boasting earlier that night, she took him out in under thirty seconds of the battle starting. Never had he seen such a take down since his younger days fighting the infamous Moonbeast of the Numerian Heartlands. But as quick as her first move was, it didn't take long for the others to regroup mentally and focus again. Shouts and orders came from Gerald to quickly take the rider out immediately; it was certainly clear they wanted to get in and out in killing him now that the giantess had entered the fray. The former knight had to make a move and fast now, sitting there wasn't going to help anymore. With the brief distraction provided, Dramon took out his hand-axe, making sure to tightly wrap his other arm around the reins so he wouldn't fall so easily. A terrible weapon to possess, but it was all he had, his real gear was still back at the cabin secured in the chest. His small break was interrupted by the cry of the Yurlich Spearman lunging his weapon up at his left side. Dramon delivered a counter, knocking the spear away as it stuck itself into the wall of the mountain pass. Then his foot promptly shot at the same attacker only to stomp against a wooden shield in his way. He continued to hold himself off well for someone who had laid dormant in combat for so long but he still proved to be sloppy. His style of defense had been reduced to a berserker doing just about anything to survive and wave off opponents, costing him lots of energy in the process. It had been a long time, his lack of preparation for this day would eventually prove to be his own end. Panicking about in desperation while surrounded wouldn't help him for much longer. Maine was clearly one of the main reasons he was still alive, Dramon was elevated on his back which gave him the advantage.

Watari wanted more than Casimir's answer. The more the catboy spoke, the more puzzled the fox became. For now, he'd have to tolerate the white puerskar; Myan would undoubtedly give a more satisfactory answer. His peach eyes jumped to the two aggressors as they calmed down. With that behind them, they could leave and head home. After all, that mountain of paperwork wouldn't sign and sort itself. Samara seemed intent on putting off his remark, no doubt saving the best for last. One might even assume he was into her verbal beratting. The general scrunched his face and narrowed his eyes as he studied Casimir after the crimson menaces remark. What did she mean? Was Samara being funny? Casimir didn't smell or look off. That judgmental gaze was evident as the warrior returned to his rigid and typical expression. He stroked his beard as he silently pondered the implications. His peach eyes wandered over to Florentina and Lyra as they were addressed. He had noticed Samara oggling the giants nether bits. He wouldn't judge her too severely. The Jorgenskulls were an eccentric people. Their customs differed significantly from the deserts, and it took him time to acclimate to their society. Watari smirked and chuckled at the comment that the centaur had done the unthinkable. There was a bit of truth to it. The diva wasn't subtle about her sexual escapades. He wouldn't state it verbally, but she looked happy for the first time in a long while. And that was enough for Watari. The mood shifted when the jezebel vocalized a peculiar line. Dead spot? What was Samara rambling on about? He'd inquire, although he wasn't sure if now was the time or the place. And even if he wanted to, it wasn't long before she finally addressed him. Her sharp tongue forced Watari to smile wide as he flashed his white fangs at the seductress. Most might have interpreted it as an insult. However, the warrior-poet knew better. Samara treated those she liked with a coarse tongue. And the rougher the language, the more she cherished them. "You flatter me. You feign rudeness; that only means it's working. Listen, let's stop this charade. You want me; I want you. Let's finish it, or we can keep playing this game. I'm fine either way, Sammy." He smiled as he uttered her nickname. His hand dropped from his beard as he continued. "Florentina, I appreciate the offer, but maybe you could stand to learn a lesson. Trust me, we desert folk know how to mingle as well. Ask Casimir, he is now my brother-in-law. I doubt he'd deny the appeal." He joked before moving to Samara and placing his hand on her shoulder as she faced his back to him. "I missed you. Despite the playful banter, you're the only one left of the old group. I wish to catch up and relive that friendship. You're many things to others. But to me, you'll always be a friend, Sammy." He said with sincerity as his other hand grabbed and squeezed her tail. "Don't; I know you dislike others holding your tail. I enjoy the teasing but would rather wait until we are in a more private setting for such flirtatious activities." He sighed before looking at the others. "I have one question: what is Casimir, and what did you mean by Flo here being a dead spot? She's also my friend, and I'd like to know if she is in danger."

It had been a long search for a rumored monster hiding in the mountains, a hopeless endeavor at best with the lack of anything better to do providing the drive necessary for Gerald and his men to keep moving. Five years, and no sign of their real target; it was a mission with no end and no way home till it was done. But today was different, determination alone was the propelling force that kept these men going, to find something and that meant anything. They had pushed themselves to their very limits scaling these undefeated mountains and actually managed to succeed, nearly killing themselves in the process. It had paid off, in their sights was the outline of what appeared to be a cabin, that was something... something they never knew existed before. And you could call it luck, or a bad coincidence depending on who's perspective you side with, but not moments later did the giantess emerge from the home to sit upon the roof of the structure. The rumors, the frantic cries of hunters, they were all true; and now there was a bridge not far from them. "My lucky day." Was all the knight could say, and strangely he had a feeling this was it. Not only the beast but oddly enough he could sense it was this day that they'd discover the fugitive, even if the others didn't find that to be the case, Gerald could almost taste it but still kept it to himself from the others... Now they were hidden in the cover of rock formations, just resting above the lone rider. Gerald had watched him closely, the others were more focused on the enormous humanoid female spider, but even as the man rode his horse across the bridge he did not look at the man all together but only his face. He disregarded if he had armor, a sword or anything that would give him tactical information; instead he was obsessed with what he looked like. He could just see the lip and chin, yet it was maddening for him enough to convince him it was in fact him. "Take the shot." He said, his men looking at him all together surprised he was calling something so soon. Spot the archer didn't hesitate to draw an arrow, as he lined it up to the string ready to spring out of cover to take the shot. He presumed it would be on the creature while she would be crossing over to the other side, the man to him wasn't at all important. "The monster, aye?" "Nay." He said, "The man?" Gerald nodded. Spot looked directly at Gerald completely confused by this order, still he wasn't one to hesitate for long and always told himself to trust the decisions of someone higher than him. He quickly shifted focus, still puzzled as to why the man but orders were orders. Rahmar had the same expression on his face, his bushy blond beard and stingy look to his face complemented his squinting eyes, but didn't protest. Roth was quiet as well, his face covered by the helmet entirely. Everyone readied their weapons, except for Simon. "Hold on, we're just going to kill a random man when we came here for the beast, we'll scare the freakshow off, besides the military jurisdiction will be furious with you Gerald for giving out such orders to murder innocent wayfarers." Simon had given his piece, yet the others remained still and ready, barely anyone batted an eye to the young warrior. Gerald however gave a long sigh, in the end the kid was right, if he was mistaken he'd face a serious punishment by those running the occupation; the time of Numerians pillaging, killing, raping and such had long pass since these later weeks into the occupation. He couldn't just simply get away with murder anymore. "Fine, if you insist... Spot loose off a shot near the man. I want to see his face entirely, make it very noticeable." Simon still frowned, "What? What about the monster, we came all this way for it and we're going to focus on a-" Gerald rose his sword, the tip barely touching Simon's throat, "Continue to defy me, and you know where that goes." He said coldly, clearly he just had to know who was under that hood. "If I am correct Simon, we will have found the one we're really looking for. So trust me." Simon's face was already a swirl of fear, but now it was a state of shock, as were the others. The sword was lowered then, and a nod was given to Spot, it all rested on him now.... Maine stood , casually kicking up some dirt with his hooves while his master sat on top of him. Dramon was facing Valerna now, waiting for her to come across but he felt a little off. It was probably the fact he was crossing the bridge without his new friend, or the fact he was planning to go out after being in hiding for so long. Likely he was just nervous, nothing more if what he convinced himself of. It was sad, if only he had kept training himself and continued to polish his mind as he had always done as a warrior; little did he know what was to really come. Four years it had been without any preparation or training, he swore off anything that could bring him back that type of life. His awkward feeling of his surroundings was well distracted by their amusing conversation however, "That's the spirit!" He smirked, playing into her sarcasm. "But, note taken, we'll avoid it." His face faded, figuring it was the best to not go near civilization for her sake. "And as for the Drakarians, they were a lot nicer than the Numerians, that I can guarantee. At least their leadership was... honestly I don't know a whole lot but from first impressions I have a better feeling about them." He looked down, feeling a little silly, "Well, guess it was a little stupid to say that they're angels after all." He concluded on that, rubbing the back of his head. "But from what I understand, and what I've learned, it's always best to not judge others harshly, I'm sure it'll be fine. Now hurry up and get your big fat butt over her-" His right arm stung for a mere moment, before adrenaline pumped to mask the pain; blood spat from a cut in his upper arm as an arrow head plunged into the ground right by Maine's legs. The horse was startled as it flung its front legs up, as Dramon held on for dear life, pulling at the reins to steady the horse, turning it to face where the arrow came from. He looked above and was almost instantly planted in terror at the sight of a familiar face. It was Sir Gerald, a man under his command once stood on top of rocks with his iconic sword and shield. Next to him stood an unfamiliar archer. Those blue eyes trembled with fear, his mind went blank but he was never one to freeze instead he was fighter. It must have been years of complacency, either that or it was the total shock it was his once good friend Gerald that was sent hunt him down and take his head. He had no words whatsoever, Gerald had smirked with his theory being correct before he went stone cold and cried out a signal. Just then three men slid down from the rocks followed by the Knight, the archer remained as the others surrounded Dramon. It was no use, he couldn't snap out of it in time to prevent himself being surrounded. Lucky for him, his trusty horse began to shriek and flail about that would bring the man out of his trance. He held on shocking him back into reality, as he looked for ways out, but that wasn't going to happen. "SHIT!" If only he had done something, now it was looking far grimmer, his fight would be forced to kick in now as all that past knowledge had to suddenly rush back into him for the sake of surviving now.

Dramon shook his head lightly, entertained by Valerna’s amusing jokes, before shifting his gaze onward by the lead of her hand. “Aye, I do. There’s a bridge ahead, when we cross that we’ll need to get through the rough mountain terrain on our descent. After that, we’ll be traveling in the plains until we hit the forest.” He explained, with one’s first thoughts of hearing this would be that of an easy trip. Especially under the assumption no one else was up here. “I’ll likely need to dismount and lead my horse when things get too narrow or unstable. But don’t count the mare out, this is Maine and he can surely out perform any birds you or your friends have.” He smirked, giving back her banter, knowing the capabilities of his ‘hooved’ companion to be greater than most steads. “By the way, on our way down we’ll be able to see local settlements, closest being a village. At that point it’s up to us if we stop there for anything, but I will understand if you don’t want to, hell even for myself alone now that my disguised face is no more it makes me doubt going there.” Although their conversations and Valerna’s advice had been helpful and progressed him, he still had his cold feet when going out. It had been a long time since he ever seen civilization, or been around other people, maybe things had changed and people forgot about him? Surely, it should be fine… The Drakarians were always a more open folk anyways, perhaps they’ve encountered someone like his guest before? “But anyways, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. The people of this nation are not as terrible as I described the Numerians, in fact they’re angels in comparison. A very open population.” He nodded, having given them more thought and the benefit of the doubt. However, there was time for talk on the road, it was best time to leave, besides if all went well he could return home by the time the sun would set. “Right, well, follow me. It’ll be easy going for now till we get off the mountain.” He flicked at his reins, as Maine trotted ahead at a joggers pace. The area wasn’t necessarily safe to start galloping just yet. The bridge was already in view, and would be reached in no time at all. The bridge connected the land mass surrounded by river ravines to the rest of the misty mountain and the path. This bridge was sturdy, rather than a rickety one, able to take a horse and it’s rider no problem. Although, probably best to dismount for how narrow it was, it would likely be fine just this once to ride through it. But for the giantess, how she managed to get to his home without the bridge was a mystery. He was sure she’d reveal how. As they came to the bridge he casually rode across it, before stopping at the other end to see what she’d do. Hidden in the Rocks above. Men. There were men hidden in cover just above the naturally walled off mountain path. All these men were stuck on the left side however, but had a clear view of the bridge, in fact they weren’t even ten meters up in their high ground or even six meters away from the man on the horse. The cabin was spotted at such a close distance, no longer was it just an outline figure of the mist but a reality. And with the cabin was this beast… a female figured giant with spider limbs. But among all the men, watching in their hiding spots, there was one not focused on the ‘monster’ but the man on the horse. “You…”

Approved

"What's that supposed to mean?" He smirked, giving back a chuckle to her witty remark, while his eyes lowered to her dissent. His feet stepped closer to her, eyes of blue still on her as she continued to speak. "I would say so yes," answering her question regarding the unlikelihood of their encounter here. How strange indeed, and perhaps there were a deity involved in all this, God? In his thought he looked down at the ground, until his gaze was sparked back up to her when she mentioned her daughter. How peculiar, that name was so familiar… his memory was clouded by the fog of confusion and dreams but somewhere in there it lied. Valerna's description of Florentina was oddly similar to what his memory faintly recalled. For a moment, there was some consideration to ask about her, but he thought it best to not. Besides it'd be a better conversation for the road anyhow. Still, he didn't expect his temporary companion to open up in such a way. It was new, no words of wisdom or tales just something personal and relatable, very human. In fact, her tribe and daughter were the first of which mentioned that she actually seemed to care about. He felt trustworthy, or good enough to have been shared this, taking a warm delight from it too. It only intensified when she paused and didn't continue; obvious enough she may have not fully intended for that to come out. "Well then," He looked away, as he smiled, damn near blushing, "All the more reason we should get you on your way." A left hand fell on the rail as he marched up those steps to his door. "I should only be a few minutes!" He called back, as he came to his storage closet. Entering, he took up a satchel and began packing necessities, there was no telling what may unfold or how long this could take, even he could understand that. Dramon packed himself two days worth of meals for himself, and filled his canteen. Considering the spider didn't eat 'normal food' he figured to not pack for her… …besides, she could likely take care of herself just fine. He approached the exit of the room, before passing his chest. Dramon stopped, having the satchel on and canteen to his belt, considering what to do now… He hadn't dared open that chest since he locked it upon his arrival here, but that temptation came on. You'll need it, he told himself, you never know what could happen… Those intrusive cynical thoughts came in, she could be targeted, besides even if she could defend herself, imagine you… what would they do to you? Dramon now shifted to the chest, looking at it, his gut turned. What kind of man was he, what about all the progress, the love and forgiveness, what he built? A long moment was had. He came back outside, still in his regular clothes, with a satchel and canteen, as well as a hand axe fixed to his belt. Dramon dawned a cloak over it all, a hood hanging at the back of his head. "Alright, let me saddle up and we can go." He said, taking only a few minutes in his stable before riding out on Maine. "Alright, you ready?" He gazed at his friend, holding onto the reins with one hand and his right arm fixed around it too.

The worker rose and turned back to the mistress, having a bag of seed on his shoulder and a firm grip on his rake. He gave her a nod, knowing he did her no wrong, just missing that tongue coming across her mouth. Steps were taken as he continued to hone in on her words, coming around to the side of the house he was still being able to hear her atop of his roof. There was a small overheard feeding door into the chicken coop, as he took the bag of seed and filled the proper amount as he had always. That end came, and his ears perked slightly as she mentioned the altercation, maybe he could've chosen better words, he meant the more physically sexual aspects towards the end of their night… "Oh, well yes our talk was all good, I'm not saying it were any bad or irritating." He explained loudly, he wandered toward the stable some five meters away. "I meant the sexual and such." He called, now dropping the seed off at the stable grounds and using his rake to travel hay from the ground to Maine the horse's den. "Or is that what you meant?" He turned back to her as he finished, the rake being leaned up on the stable outer wall. From that last he had heard from her, he was happy to know he had her permission to send her off. "I would be delighted to do so, and no worries I love your music. If you'll give me a moment I'll change into something more suited, saddle my horse and we can get going." He said, having a proper smile, very much excited at a simple yet thrilling 'quest' of sorts. As he hustled back to the porch, he stopped himself as he connected his blue sky eyes back to her own chestnuts. The thought of what they had almost continued in the act of pleasure occurred to him, and now questions crossed his mind. "Wait, does this mean I'll never see you again?" He asked. Not out right saying it so far, but curiously he wondered if he'd ever be that man worthy of her for a night. Selfishly he thought, but a man he was with urges and her being the only woman.

He glanced back to see Valerna was already out the room, it didn't come much a shock he had awoken her, she had explained her enhanced sense abilities. Still, he couldn't help but feel slightly rude for waking her up. In the meantime however, he got himself changed into his worker clothes before exiting into the kitchen for some bread and dried meat. As he ate, he not only went over his tasks for the day but did ponder theories how she could've so silently slipped out the room. After breakfast, he assumed she were outside and so that is where he'd go next; those sounds of delightful rings of the string giving her away. "Huh… an instrument. Didn't think she had one of those." He shrugged to himself, before taking his left hand to the front door as he pushed it open to be back in the world. A deep breath was taken and released, coming to find two legs dangling by his head; that echoing attractive noise appeared to be coming from his roof. The giantess would see a nice pink-reddish hue in the sky, the birds already crossing in the sky and plenty of rocky formations shielding their position from the entire world. But off in the distance, if the spider could see through the mist of the morning, there were figures wandering. And if her sight was best, she could make out they were armed and heading towards the bridge that connected the home to a passage out of the enclosed mountain spot. Dramon, came down the steps of his porch, to look up at his guest. "Sorry for waking you, didn't think to drop in after our little altercation last night upon you taking my room. Needed to slip in to get my working attire." He explained, gesturing with the left, "Also, lovely music. Did you always have that large harp?" The man smiled gently, clearly enjoying what he was hearing. He figured to receive an answer as he went on, he had work to do. The ex-knight turned, just missing a gaze at the figures in the distance, reaching down to get his tools and other supplies.

Deep in the mind, pitch black, a slumber having been so delicate throughout the night. The peace disturbed by sounds of pigs, chickens and a horse screaming; flames and cries of men flaring out with unchained fury. It happened in a flash, felt more like a moment of instantaneous terror when he came to. His eyes shot open, staying ever still in the chair as he stared straight up at the ceiling. Thankfully it was just a nightmare, and the vision of fire had been cleansed by a cold sweat. A groan escaped him, he had soaked his surroundings, rising from the chair now cold. He got out of the chair quickly, the wetness shocking his body into being awake. "Fantastic…" he sighed, now he needed a change of clothes and a rag. He traveled around his home, getting items to clean and towels from the storage room; the sweat would be cleaned and he would've tossed his drenched sleep wear in a basket and dawned a towel. A quick bathing session with a bucket and he too was now clean. It was early, the sun had just rose from the horizon, cloudy though but no rain. His eyes went from the window to his room, remembering his guest, he hoped not to wake her but he needed new clothes. The door was slowly opened, as he checked to see he wouldn't be intruding on her if at all she may be caught in an unsavory position. From his point of view everything was fine, and Valerna, beautiful as ever. He crept inside, taking the moment to quietly go to the wardrobe as he began shuffling through the options. He figured if she woke, he could just tell her to go right back to sleep. Besides, she probably would understand he wouldn't want to wait around in a towel all morning. Dramon already had work to do for the morning anyways. For what he had, he took his old under suit for his armored uniform, now used for work rather than fighting. It was a mixture of brown and green shading, perfect to blend in with a surrounding environment. The man, put the outfit over his shoulder, fixing his towel…

His hand fell from the grace of her back, being left so quickly and without a sound to follow it. He figured they were about to get started, as he watched her, expecting Valerna to undress. By the time she got to his room, and positioned herself he took it as an invitation. Slowly, he too rose from his spot and began walking over. On his way, he stopped himself halfway, smirking as he was pleased by her alluring form. Dramon was more of a lost stranger in his own home, feeling the need to be guided by the woman in her lead. Some part convinced himself he could salvage himself and take the mantle. However, any thought of that was diverted when she spoke. Any steps taken were grounded by the weight of millions of tons. The first she spoke, had put him off into this locking. Had he really folded so quickly? It all happened so fast… it was almost impossible in the moment to think on it before she continued. Valerna held nothing back for him, almost feeling ordered to masturbate for her, surely he had mistaken her actions as any form of an invitation. He felt foolish, the way she spoke and used him in this moment was something he wasn't foreign too, but definitely never got used to. As a man, he tuned the rest of what she said out as he was stuck in his own thoughts. At first he was upset, a mixed bag of feelings that included anger and embarrassment. His sexual fantasies dashed away so quickly left a void he wasn't too keen on having to handle and fill alone. But he picked up on her sigh, looking from that figure and to those illuminated eyes of amber. He couldn't help but feel warm, irritated sure, but warm. He had done something right, even if he hadn't realized it. In that wholesome moment he too took a deep sigh, "Well I'm glad I-" and before finishing she had whisked away from sight. The somber closing of the door confirmed he wasn't getting any play this night. A second sigh came, now letting out steam. "Great." He rolled his eyes, before turning back. Later, he got himself situated again, before long he settled back in his chair. The fire had been let to continue, refusing to supply more wood. After finishing himself in private, he was satisfied…. Eventually he would find sleep in his abode, thankful for the day in his prayers. Meanwhile a fire in the mountains brewed, the four mercenaries laid about sleeping. Their leader Sir Gerald looked out into the night sky…

If his nerves had been shaken at the beginning of their meeting, they were now going over drive. Blood had rushed swiftly as a bullet train to his cock, near instantly fully hardening. The only thing keeping him from surrendering to her hunt was the mind alone holding him down. The way she worked her oral muscle, how perfectly she began her torture with the positioning of arms and giving him the eyes of a lustful lady. The gesture that had so instinctively caught his attention left him in shock, it all went by so quickly. Now there he was pinned, trapped in the spider's grasp. He could've only froze when she crawled to him, mesmerized by those massive breasts. How badly did that silhouette of hers trigger how desperately he wished to unload in her, in every hole she had. He trembled, as she climbed up his frame, those tits finding home in his lap. A brick hardened penis waiting for them, the possibilities of what he could do with them in the hundreds. So fast; fear for what she had in stored going forward and lustful fantasies of having his way with her. But that fantasy seemed it'd never come to pass… And as painfully obvious as it was, he was called out for his tendency. The hum of that purr, sending vibrations all throughout the soul, rattling every bone. And like the women he had dominated many, he gasped out a mixed bag of emotions when that pointer claw guided itself up along his body and ended upon his nose with a quick dash. It was all overwhelming, a new feeling this all was to him, what in God's name could he do to combat the giantess. "I-I… Uh, Vale-" Suddenly he lost any sense for words as she finished, then setting those relaxed breasts down on him. That hard cock, fully lengthened and could be felt; it desperately wanted to get started. A vocal gulp came from his throat, understanding his humble modesty was now under dire threat. But how true it was, he hadn't been with a woman in ages… He cleared his throat before continuing, "Valerna…I guess what I'm trying to sa-.." He still struggled with the words even still, not entirely was he ready to combat this. In fact what could he even do at this point? If this wasn't a clear sign what would be? As much as he could try, really how long would he last, at this point why not just give in. He just gave a deep and long sigh, those beaming eyes tearing straight through his soul. Any control he could have was all exhausted, it was over. "…why not…" he looked down at her breasts, his left hand reaching around to feel up on her back. "Let's do it."

Peace couldn't be present forever before the study of her stunning features turned seductive in thought. A print forming again, but as before he glanced away so he might oppress such objectification of his guest in his mind. His embarrassment waned as she rose her hand to oppose. Had he said something wrong, or worse been noticed again? He surely hoped not, the insecurity of being abandoned and left by his first friend in ages magnifying. Thankfully he could be relieved, connecting his eyes back to her as she demonstrated a way to interpret what he said prior. The great iconic characters began somewhere, even if they were once nothing. Someone as insignificant as him, and likewise her, surely could look to the future in pursuit of something better. The process to becoming great… To overcome evils that the footprints of men left behind. Dramon could only hope for the avoidance of man's destruction. Even in a world dominated by humans, injustices were often committed unto man by man. A slippery slope, who's to say it could not escalate, eventually the men of the earth causing their own annihilation. The other races only hope for a better world was to merely wait for the humans to kill themselves off. Whether through the razing of the world and all it's resources or to slaughter each other to the last, to continue on the path the race of men pursued would lead to death itself. Valerna laid, his observation shifting as he no longer had to look slightly up, instead keeping a steady look ahead. He examined that of her curves and lovely attractions, the thoughts crossing his mind again, before his eyes met hers. He could see that there was conflict, a relieved and thoughtful expression now turned to a bit of confusion and worry. Before long he would once again be listening to the spider, taking careful interest. At the end, in her moment of focus shifting, he smiled and nodded in agreement. Taking steps to get closer, he assembled his hand to grasp his nub behind his back. He stood in thought, he too now joining Valerna's gaze into the fire. The last cords of her words leaving him with much to think about. Suppose his purpose was not to prove wrong, or be some sort of best but rather to keep moving forward in the hope of finding meaning through the goodness in his heart. Who did he need to impress? What a world, he thought, even so for her. What pain it must be for the giantess to go through, and to know that he too would be another passing memory in the line of beings prior she surpassed. He felt sorry, sad even. Realizing she'd rather avoid the end than see through and be vanquished with grief. Yet, no words he felt he could or even should say… what could he say? "I-… I see." He swallowed, his throat being cleared from choking on that depressing reality for her. He turned himself back to her, coming as close as he might, his blue eyes finding to connect with her own. "I'm sorry." "It's not my place, but maybe one day you'll discover something else to do other than eternally voyage." He suggested, but didn't continue, knowing full well he wasn't ready to begin to understand. Plus he wouldn't want to make her upset with his arrogance. But he figured all he could do was give her an idea, something to look forward to, to dream of. To hope… "Do you wish to take my room? It's getting late." He mentioned, taking notice that she was in fact tired. Not to mention by now it was pitch black outside thanks to a quick glance through the window. And like an infectious plague, the yawn traveled consequently making him yawn. "In fact, surely now I'm getting tired as I speak." He covered his mouth with his left, to be polite during his yawn. Before smiling with a exhausted but kind expression.

Water and a bucket of it too, that of which her words were. The very water that would be doused onto and within him, extinguishing such a fiery inferno of chaotic passion. Such a surge of cooling reason would calm the soul. In all he was learning, he continued to do so, each drop of soothing sounds of his guest made sure. As waves washed over all, the mind still were slowly steaming out. Arbiter, was he? No, long was he far from that. He was no great settler of conflicts, that much could be said as he was reminded of his past. Even in the moment he realized… he was not ready. Imperfect still, how could he expect to change suddenly into ultimate just authority in the span of only this conversation? It was a fantasy. And soon after, in came shadows to fill the space left by a tarnished fire. How foolish once again he felt, were humans destined repeatedly take matters into their own hands and ruin things? Were they a lost cause, and entirely as the giantess described? The black goo of disdain they had for others, the desire to be in control, how impotent. Powerless he felt, powerless indeed to the misleading urges of man. But in this reminder of who he was, what they were, there was hope lighting the way. The smoldering fire that had been extinguished leaving him in darkness, with a soul suddenly illuminated by shining rays to replace it. There was a glimmering path forward, simple in its truest nature; prove worthy and change, along with those around. In humanity, there was a chance to change things for the better. And that's what matters… "I suppose." After all she said, he sounded exhausted in his response. "In truth, I cannot argue with this. I am not special, nor should I expect to change rapidly in an instant. No wise man am I, just a man. But I believe I see your point, a man is just enough. Enough to prove, enough to love and enough to be worth it." He paused, continuing to reflect, wandering back to his chair, sinking his bum back in. The weight of… …knowledge of his people's absolute extinction in another world only now beginning to dawn. It was sickening, were they that terrible? And worse, could it happen here? However quickly, taking what he learned overall, he breathed and steadied himself. "All of humanity, gone. Such a shame, now I wonder too if it could've been different for them. And I wonder too, it could be different for us." He glanced forward, meeting up with her gaze again. "I can only say, I now better clearly see your lesson taught. You're right, the only way to help is to grow, and like a garden helping others grow too. And indeed prove to you that you are in fact wrong about us." His face now from fury and ambition, to a mature and confident one. Surely, this was the answer, to rise above and do better. The locking gaze extended, being dragged into being quiet for the foreseeable future. And as he stared, he took the time to analyze her face before him. To understand every fragment of such a gorgeous face, to explore the beauty. And in that moment, the soul, and observation, there was peace.

Watari wasn't at all impressed with Casimir's love for tomfoolery. They were all caught in a perilous situation, and he would rather keep his wits about him than engage in wisecracks. With any luck, the feline's antics might distract the elf long enough to present an opening for an attack. He'd ready himself, controlling his breathing as he held that blade ahead. If he charged now, Devante would likely spring into action. And while Florentina is a competent fighter, he couldn't risk her being hurt on his watch. Valerna would never let him hear the end of it, and it would serve as a black mark on his record. Casimir's little comment about manners was funny. Something told the fox that the rogue wasn't one for such things. Sadly, the entire performance wasn't enough to grant Watari what he was waiting for. The general considered leaping into the fray and initiating the encounter himself. But he paused as he'd first respond to the cat. "You should listen to Casimir. He is an expert when it comes to unmannerly behaviors." A joke, one that would likely ruffle Casimir's fur. The officer figured if he kept provoking the elf and the cat, the ensuing squabble might form that opportunity he was waiting for. Lyra seemed in good hands. The centaur appeared to prefer the passive observer role over the hero or menace. His peach eyes finally wandered away from their foe due to the loud footsteps of the giant, and her booming voice that was heard from behind. He was moved by how she referred to him as a friend. Something, while known, was rarely voiced. Whatever pride he felt wouldn't last, Florentina seemed to revert to her lecherous attitude. Watari supported their union, but he couldn't imagine how someone could survive the diva lust if even half of her bragging were true. The mental image was unsettling. "Aw, we're all you friends?" That sweet moment wouldn't last; it was blown away as something else entered the stage. The swirling clouds stole his focus as the fox turned to face the new disturbance. "Why didn't you tell us you had friends coming over? I can't blame you, an extra body should even out the fight." The warrior-poet gulped as the gale whipped across the room. The sound of the utensils flying and hitting the wall and floor made him second-guess his remark. Things went from bad to worse as whatever it was transformed the environment. The European-like architecture became something more alien yet paradoxically familiar. It resembled the ruins of the old world buried by the sands of his ancestral home. Watari lowered his blade as he glanced at the others plucked into this prison. He inspected the two immortals next, only to be taken aback by their confused or worrisome expressions. Wait, so they weren't expecting this thing's arrival? Could it be the defiled, had they returned? Doubtful, those abominations didn't have much taste for home decor. They'd likely send a horde first if they were giving chase. The cloud vanished, and its explosion caused Watari's ears to flick as he went to visually inspect. Those peach eyes widened as he witnessed a familiar soul. Even if her body were immersed in light, he could make out that outline from anywhere: it was Samara. What was she doing here? It had to be a trick. Such doubts faded as the bovine spoke. Samara's use of language was unique, an unmistakable hallmark that few, if any, could replicate. Despite the familiarity, she was somehow different. The jezebel was always confident, but the old her seemed humble compared to the self-assuredness on display. What had he missed? Watari heard the desert was in a rough state. He often looked to the horizon and wondered how she was doing. He missed their talks and her scoldings. What could he say except that he was a sucker for abuse? Samara spoke; her words sent a chill down the general's spine. What induced the visible discomfort wasn't the magnitude of her magic but the lack of it. It didn't feel like the bovine had lost her energy; instead, it was so above him that he couldn't identify it. He felt like an ant trying to understand the technology of the Verdant Dynasty. Try as he may, he could only catch slight glimpses no larger than a mote of understanding. Watari watched as the dance of death began. The freezing of that bolt left him flummoxed. How was such a thing possible? He'd have to ask her later; for now, he prepared himself to jump in. Before he could, the explosive tornado and the searing flames didn't even damage her golden and risque clothing which was enough to clue the fox in. She didn't require his help, and jumping in like a would-be hero would only grant him an ass-chewing later. The poet kept silent, dissecting her words as he tried to understand what she was talking about. Once commanded, Watari put his sword away and stepped onto that marble floor. He looked about, trying to place the strange architecture, only to peer up at the hole in the sky and back to Samara. While delayed, his brain finally registered the remark about his sister. The general shot a harsh glare at Casimir. "Wait, my sister and you? Did you defile her honor? What sorcery did you use to convince her to bed you? She must have been drunk, and you took advantage? If I found out you harmed or abused her in any way, not even the defiled can save you." He barked before returning his focus to Samara. "You aren't going to cuff me this time? Every time we meet it ends with me being locked in your dungeon..." Some might think he was joking, but Watari wasn't. "Regardless, you look good. More plump, but in the good way and in the right areas." He grinned while trying to shoot his shot. "Still single?"

Approved

The flesh of the nub was still at his side, not to rise as commanded. It be the flesh of a whole hand that was given the advance. He lightly grasped upon his newly shaven face, feeling it out as he formed a puzzled look. Confused was the state of mind; all she said, yes understood, it was clear. But her last note off the keys of reason… imperfect. Not entirely, her admission to being just as prone to make mistakes as he, that spoke volumes. Volumes that could crash the walls of her reasoning near the end as he understood it. The recognition from both parties and now the insight in their evils revealed. It was accepted, even if there laid a parasite influencing such horrors on his guest. Be not afraid, as he would. Still, the flaw he saw in those words of hers, he couldn't help but hypothesize a theory. Was he being tested, were those last regards of there to be a day of choice to help another through hardship and sacrifice this very moment? To sacrifice his comfort, to embrace the hardship of hate that fell to him by many. Now could be that opportunity to go and be better, to turn this negativity into positive power, similar words to that of the giantess. Would it be hypocritical in all he learned this moment to not answer the call? After all, this was not who he was. Dramon was not a pig farming hermit who was meant to live and die alone away from his fellow social creatures. He was a man, once boy, who had dreams to help and be kind. Along that path he became lost, he would admit, but were chickens and pigs really the destiny of one who had just learned so much more about himself now than ever; no. No, he couldn't knowingly turn away with the knowledge there was a chance, even so small, like a baby step… "No." Refusal, as the hand flew down with the speed of a sword. A determined look on his face made it clear he did not agree, not in the slightest. "I view this as wrong. Call it human arrogance, or an impulse of emotion, but damnit knowing what I know… …now I refuse to sit idly by. And you may find zero logic in the human before you, and that's ok, but I wish to help. You could say this is out of my own desire to do something about my situation. And yes, you'd be right, along with it being foolish; I'd be prone, too, to make mistakes in this big leap again you are right. You speak of courage to take the path of hardship to help others, is this not it? There's no sense in me staying here, if I'm to do something about it I might as well go out and proceed. But although I may choose the emotional response, but do not mistake, I will take what advice you've given. To help others." That fierce fire, the candle of humanity, it did not disappear. It flamed hotter than the sun with passion in his words and the formation of his face and body being only a mere fraction of the very fuel that helped spark such a blaze. A tale old as the fall of the races from God's grace. But really, she was indeed a stranger to his world, and she might be fine on her own; he may even slow her down. But he had old friends, some of those who still saw his light; the same who could have answers for Valerna. Not to mention, a way home. At least, that was a part of his justification… "Please." Was what he finished on, the desperation in his voice mixed with the profound commitment of passion… it only presented a stew of wanting to be better. He had to be.