During Lightfall, Sundog nearly lost their war beast, Ghaul, to Calusâs legionaries. He didnât die, but he was permanently injured and therefor retired from going on dangerous missions with them. They still take very good care of him, though! Make sure heâs well enriched, fed, and exercised- medicated and comfy as well.
However, in the showcase, someone stated something like âthis will/may be our final battleâ, which may not mean perma death for the guardian, but what if it did? Sundog leaves Ghaul home with someone he trusts to watch him while theyâre gone- because who knows how long itâll be.
So he waits. Heâs used to them being gone for a few days or so at times, but then the wait gets longer. Longer than heâs used to.
Eventually he starts to wait by the door all day, every day. He waits for them to come home, give him something good to gnaw on or roll in, scratch him in the way Caiatl taught them a war beast loves, wrestle and play with him in the way only a titan or uluran solider could bear.
One day, while heâs watching over a batch of pups, he notices someone familiar approaching the uluran whoâs been taking care of him. He doesnât understand or comprehend emotions, but he looks on regardless, curious of what the two could be speaking of.
The much smaller, cloaked figure is a man named Crow. With a burdened heart he tells the uluran that their young wolf, Sundog has died in their final fight against the Witness. Many other guardians fell as well- all not in vain, however. Their apocalyptic threat is gone, and theyâre now safe, but itâs come at a heavy, personal price.
The uluran stills, his mountainous brow outline furrowing. He is also a good friend of Sundogâs, and though heâs no stranger to losing companions in combat, it too weighs on him. He doesnât wear his heart on his sleeve like the Crow does, but he shares the pain regardless. His large hand rests like a comforting weight on the hunterâs shoulder, thumb pressing to his heart.
His voice is deep and firm as he lowly rumbles his cultural mantra of meeting a glorious death, but he also speaks with love, understanding, pride, and grief. Ghaul belongs to him now, but even as a beast who knows death like a sigil burned in his scales, he doesnât understand it.
Every day, he still waits for his guardian to come back, even when he grows old and can no longer hunt or wrestle. Itâs only in his last breaths does he see them come into his fading vision like a rising sun. Their warm, strong hands rest upon his body like a hot bath soothing away his aches, and their voice greets with the deep, loving familiarity he heard when they first adopted him, and when they rescued his broken body from the legion,
âhey, bud. letâs get you home.â
