Velg

“Champion?” a voice came from behind the two pullers. Their ears pricked and flicked backwards as Omen and Jett turned to see who approached after their tag team victory. She was massive, her muscled body predominantly black. Large red spots of banding adorned her back and bright yellow peered from her underbelly. She radiated threat, and yet there was more to it than just that. There was a cunning, a sense of no-nonsense leadership. “If you’re seeking the champion, you need look no further,” a wicked grin spread across the massive haedian’s maw. “Ah, Zarod, so nice to see you again, it’s been a while” Cailu said as he padded up alongside the newcomer. “Omen, Jett, this is Zarod, the leader of the Brutes clan and undefeated champion of battle.” Omen dipped his head in respect to the large female. Jett stared, mouth slightly agape, but at the jolt of Omen’s elbow followed suit and bowed as well. “Zarod, these are my friends, a pair of surface dwelling vayrons, Omen and Jett.” “A

The sounds of toil echoed dimly through the dark corridors as Omen and his dark comrade followed the butterfly patterned haedian, Cailu further into the depths. As they neared, the sounds intensified. The stark rock floor yielded occasional spots of softness. His friend, another puller like himself named Jett, lowered his nose to the ground and inspected the unexpected textiles. “Moss…?” Jett remarked quizzically. “Among other vegetation, yes,” Cailu replied, craning his long neck to glance behind. “The Brutes, the next clan we’re visiting, are quite remarkably clever. They use the moss and vegetation to help muffle the sounds of their craft. So as to not bother the other clans. It’s quite effective.” “Interesting…” Omen mused, his long reptilian tail swaying languidly in thought. As the trio rounded the corridors and came into full view of the massive main cavern, the noise became almost immediately louder. A testament to the wonders of using the vegetation as a sound barrier.

Once they were sure the beast had been slain, the boys exchanged a wide grin. Kratos felt himself swell with pride as Khadar let out a heroic howl. Still high on their success, it took them a moment to realize one of their trio was not sharing in the celebration. “Vandal?” Kratos called out, glancing around for the brash indigo puller. Spotting the telltale hue of a purple tail strewn amidst the green brush Kratos looked at his chaser friend with concern. “Stay with the kill… I’ll be right back,” he said. Khadar watched him a moment more before pulling tools from his pack to start dressing the hog. Kratos moved towards the brush tilting his head to one side. “Vandal…? You alright?” His ear twitched slightly at the sound of a muffled sniffle. His concern grew as he pulled the brush apart revealing the occupant within. The purple puller lay licking at a large gash on her shoulder, eyes brimmed over with tears. Kratos pushed through the brush to her side with a gasp. “Oh no… It

Vandal didn’t want to admit it… but Khadar may have been right. The trio was heading into their fourth day of their expedition trial, and she was licking ration crumbs from her pack. Despite all her bluster about how they could easily just garner supplies from the land, she had very few successful hunting attempts under her belt. And though she had tried to covertly scour what berries and fruits she could from their journey so far, it did little to fill the void in her belly. She scowled at the empty satchel, but didn’t want to admit to her comrades that she ought to have planned better. Instead, she remembered what Kratos had said back at the studium before they set out. One of their trials was to successfully complete a hunt. Now that they were well into the vast Ebrus forest, it seemed like the best place to complete this task. Both to fill their bellies, and earn a checkmark for that leg of their quest. “What did we plan to do for our hunt requirement?” Vandal asked as she

“I think it will be good for him,” Master Soros watched from the studium alcoves as the trio of young vayrons in the courtyard went about discussing their plans and packing for their journey. Another of the magical school’s teachers trailed along beside him as the master stopped, crossing his arms into his long robe sleeves. “But sir, what if they run into trouble?” The other questioned. Soros watched the trio, silently weighing a myriad of potential issues they could run into. It was a long and arduous journey, and his colleague’s concerns were not without their merit. All three were still young, yes, but he was confident they were old enough and had enough wits between them to be able to weather any storm or trial. Kratos, his star pupil, was mostly quiet and kept to himself, but was a quick and eager learner. He had the highest aptitude for magic he’d ever seen in one his age. “Then they will have to figure out how to get through it. Kratos has immense skill, that we cannot