You should watch your back ⚔️

He followed her, drawn by the promise of something delectable. In the kitchen, Queenie eached up with ease to retrieve a leg of prosciutto, its rich aroma filling the air. Trondo could feel his mouth watering in anticipation and his mouth opened as his eyes were about to pop out.

When playfully she offered the meat, without a moment's thought he accepted it, the thin cut of meat resting between his fingers, glistening under the soft light. As he brought it to the maw, the explosion of flavors overwhelmed his senses. He closed his eyes, savoring the savory delight that melted instantly on his tongue.

“Damn” he murmured, barely able to contain his enthusiasm between bites. “That’s fucking incredible. Can I have more?''

“ ¿ 𝚅𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚊𝚢𝚞𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎 ?... 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚘... 𝙽𝚘, 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚘́𝚗, 𝚞𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚕𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚗. 𝚃𝚎 𝚕𝚘 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚣𝚌𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚍, 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚘. 𝙽𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚒 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚖𝚒́... ”

Un agradecimiento sincero, pero sus palabras... Esas palabras eran de alguien que lo había perdido todo. y esa confirmación se lo aseguró al 100%, 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞́𝐧 𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨, ¿ 𝐒𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐥𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢́𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞́𝐧 ? 𝐄𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢́𝐚. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐨, 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐚 𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐝𝐚, 𝐦𝐚́𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐧... 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐚.

“ 𝙽𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚢𝚞𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎, 𝚊 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚘𝚜, 𝚙𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢 𝚘𝚌𝚎́𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚜. 𝙲𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚜, 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚞𝚗 𝚕𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚊́𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚜, 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚜. 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚜. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚛 𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚣... ”

Por eso se separó del grupo, se había retrasado en la caza por las presas... Un ruído y ya no estaban, el mar se los habían tragado, ¿ Cúando volverán ? Nadie lo sabe a ciencia cierta, las sirenas puedant tardar meses o ncluso años en regresar a un antiguo lugar, solo si no les quedaba opción, y 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒, 𝑙𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑒, 𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑐𝘩𝑜𝑠 𝑦 𝘩𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑛 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑛𝑖 𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎, 𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝑖́𝑎𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑗𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑢𝑒́𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜. 𝐸𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑟 𝑦 𝑒𝑙 𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑜.... 𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠.

“ 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚞𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚘, 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚘́𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊, 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚞𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗̃𝚒́𝚊, 𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚓𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚘... 𝚕𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚎, 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚜𝚒́ 𝚚𝚞𝚎.... ¿ 𝚀𝚞𝚎́ 𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 ? ”

Trondo, con su postura erguida y su mirada ardiente, dejó escapar un suave bufido, como si el aire que salía de sus fosas nasales pudiera esparcir la carga de sus pensamientos. Su larga cabellera trenzada caía desordenadamente sobre sus hombros, moviéndose con cada ligero gesto. Los destellos del sol sobre sus escamas marrones y naranjas se asemejaba al mar de arena agitándose en el profundo y bello desierto de Pacificadores, a veces creando espejismos terribles para el viajero no experimentado.

“¿Sabes? La soledad puede ser un enemigo despiadado, desde luego. Pero para mi, ha sido mi mejor amiga y mi más tierna aliada.” dijo, la raspada voz elevándose por encima del sonido del oleaje. Frunció el ceño debajo de la bandana, permitiendo que su expresión reflejase el fragmento de empatía que había encontrado en el corazón de aquel ser marino. “No soy ajeno a ese sentimiento, Naida. Creer que la compañía puede aliviar el peso es cierto, pero también está el temor a abrirse y perder más.”

Paró sus palabras para volver su vista al mar. Se sentía realmente perdido con ese vacío inexorable aprisionando su corazón, pero incluso así había algo que lo jalaba de vuelta a la supervivencia extrema. Y aunque ese pensamiento fuese ciertamente egoísta, saber que no era el único que se encontraba en una situación lamentable le hacía sentirse menos desesperado. Al menos, ya no estaba ''solo'' en su infinita tristeza.

La mirada que había estado perdida en la espuma de mar arremolinándose en la arena ahora subía poco a poco hasta posarse en la figura de Naida de nuevo. La hermosa perfecta cola iridiscente, pálida piel y hermoso rostro. Desde luego, ese mundo era cruel hasta con los seres más bellos.

Volvió a suspirar, esta vez su antiguo y característico mal humor llameando de vuelta. No quería realmente compañía a largo plazo, pero ¿qué iba a hacer? ¿Dejar a aquella sirena con la que parecía haber hecho buenas migas a su suerte? Era ridículo, lo sabía, y aún así sabía que tenía que ayudarla fuese como fuese. Aquí era el punto en el que Trondo sabía, muy a su pesar, que su jornada de soledad autoimpuesta y autoindulgente debía terminar.

Era hora de volver a confiar en alguien y pasar a la acción.

''Está bien... Está bien... No pienso dejarte aquí sola a que te pase algo cuando no sabes donde están los tuyos. Me quedaré contigo. Pero te aseguro que... Si veo algo raro, algún atisbo de traición por parte tuya, no querrás verme en mis peores momentos''

🐺 Growl at my muse

@trondopeacekeeper

-------------------------

The satyr let out a tiny yelp at the sudden growl. Having been startled by the sudden noise, almost causing their fur to fluff up and be tense. Regardless, they have calmed down soon enough.

“Yeah!” Trondo snapped, his usual grumpiness palpable. “I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye and I thought you were a Gnorc or something like that! You need to be more careful around here. This place is crawling with dangerous creatures.”

As he recognized that the satyr before him wasn't an enemy to be vanquished, the Peace Keeper dragon relaxed his tense muscles. He shifted from all fours for rising, now standing on his two legs, his muscled neck moving in slow, circular motions, easing the stiffness that had built up from days of relentless hunting. Orange-brown scales glistened faintly under the filtered sunlight and the lengthy dreadlocks hung wildly, tousled and untamed from his adventures.

Nearby, the forest stood tall, a silhouette of shadowy forms sharing secrets known only to its inhabitants. The haunting call of an owl sliced through the stillness, its song weaving through the branches. Ina's ears perked up at the sound, yet she remained undisturbed. These woods were her sanctuary, and she had long since mastered the whispers of the night. With a graceful stride, her hooves created a soft rhythm on the earth, leaving no evidence of her presence.

The edge of the stream beckoned to her, its waters sparkling like the stars above. She approached with elegance, the crystals in the ground mirroring the celestial display. As she leaned down to drink, the water's surface shimmered, revealing a reflection that felt foreign yet captivating. A curse had altered her true appearance, leaving her with a visage that was both enchanting and disconcerting. Her fur glowed gently in the crystalline light, a striking contrast to the usual radiance that surrounded her.

Her heart raced as she honed in on the source of the disturbance, bracing herself to face whatever the night had sent her way. It was a being of myth and legend, a creature she once would have reveled in discovering. In the past, such a find would have been worth its weight in gold; she would have eagerly laid it out, secured it to a table, and dissected it, driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. But now, the absence of human hands, of a body, had stripped her of that desire.

This creature spoke, a curious sound. As she gazed up, she realized that she had thought this place would keep out anything else, especially a human. Yet here it was, and she felt no fear, only fascination. She stared, captivated by the strange, the unique, the wondrous. Drawn to it, she moved slowly closer, listening intently to its voice, approaching without a hint of concern or trepidation.

Despite the stillness, a rhythm pulsed in the night, syncing with his heartbeat. An owl's call echoed, piercing the quiet and drawing his attention. He watched as its ears pricked at the sound, gaze fixed on the shadows, alert but calm. There was something oddly reassuring about her poise in that specific moment, he wondered.

A spark of recognition ignited within him. He had heard tales of creatures like this, whispered around human campfires. Seeing one of them up close stirred something deeper in Trondo, perhaps a profound guilt for all the beasts he had slain in the past. Not even in his darkest thoughts would he dare harm a creature as perfect as this. He was a bastard, but not a villain.

Then she noticed him. Initially, he felt the urge to retreat and fly away, but the fascination held him in place. The tension shifted; there was no fear between them, only an electric pull of interest. Trondo stepped forward, compelled by something entirely different from what he was used to.

Walking down the street he rubbed his eye a bit, tired but still wanted to go to the bar.

“Some people need their ego’s bruised honestly, its one thing to be kind and another to kiss someone’s ass. I like you, in that regard it makes things easier and less complex about what you’re thinking and want. Most aren’t that straightforward and its.. annoying sometimes.”

Shrugging as the conversation went on he waved towards Trondo at his words.

“Some people can’t handle it, some can. Stick with those who are able to withstand your bomb. It’s one thing to be rude, another when you’re straightforward and blunt, not everyone can handle that. I don’t mind you if it helps any?”

He wasn’t sure where he stood in that regards, kind in some cases, blunt and straightforward in others. It really depended on who he was with and talking to. How much he cared or didn’t care, what was at stake if he was too blunt about matter.

“My story? Not much to tell, you on the other hand seem a little out of place. Not from around here that’s for certain.” Pointing ahead as they walked he motioned towards what looked like a little shop, though inside it was a bar.

"Look, one thing's for sure: being rough around the edges and straightforward like I am can spare you some trouble while inviting a heap of others. Too many, really. But this is who I am; I can’t pretend to be anything else, nor do I want to. I just don’t know how.'' he muttered, reflecting on a time when he had tried to fit in.

When Francis mentioned sticking around those who could handle his explosive nature, Trondo fell silent, a part of his bandana shading one eye. Street neon lights cast a dangerous glow on the other, illuminating his yellow iris, which shone brightly beneath the flickering lights of a city that, thankfully, appeared deserted. He contemplated asking Francis about his eyepatch and how he managed to navigate this world with such ease despite being an outsider. However, two drinks would likely be necessary before he could voice all the thoughts swirling in his mind.

They halted in their tracks when Francis pointed out the bar ahead. Trondo's heart raced with anxiety; he realized they were about to step into a human establishment. He hoped it wouldn't turn into chaos.

“Behind you” he tersed, glancing at the door with a mix of uncertainty and readiness. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for whatever awaited him inside, feeling the weight of his scales and the tension in the air.

Cue this diver ending up snagged in what looked to be a trap, was this set for a animal to become a meal for something or someone?

He gasped under his locked helmet as he started to wriggle, he couldn't reach to summon forth his claymore nor use his cryo vision as his limbs were snared securely, he was at the mercy of whoever or whatever set this!

No! He can't meet his end here! He had family to protect!

He continued to struggle as he was slowly slipping out of consciousness due to exhaustion, not good.

He tries to stabilize what little energy he had left, now keeping completely still as he listens for any source of noise that might approach him.

As he brought it closer, the dragon’s massive claw reached out to grab the figure by the neck of the suit.

But then, confusion shifted to uncertainty. This wasn't one of those pesky Water Workers from Sunny Beach that the dragon had vowed to rid the coast of. He had no intention of letting turtle soup to invade his already troubled dreams! No, this was something different — this was a struggling human who seemed genuinely scared.

And not just any human. Wait… those clothes and mannerisms looked familiar.

"Freminet?!" Trondo blurted, a puzzled expression crossing his reptilian face as he released Freminet, who splashed into the water. In a swift motion, Trondo unsheathed his knife, determined to cut the bindings that had both restrained and partially suffocated his colleague.

“Shit of a Gnorc… I'm sorry, man! I didn’t think… What are you doing here, by the way? I never imagined you’d be so close to Sunny Beach. For a moment, I thought you were one of those Water Workers.”

Or maybe it was just the notion of Trondo being so far removed from Robert that made it all the more safer. He was dangerous, of that there was no doubt.

But Trondo had a genuine care for those he protected and it didn't take a genius to see that.

"I'm sorry. I know that she'd meant something to you. And I'm sorry that she'd betrayed you, Trondo. Although.. I think you did the right thing, Trondo. It's a hard situation to be in. Anyway, you're right."

She moved a little closer to the fire, nodding in agreement.

He tried to silence the nagging thoughts that swirled in his mind. For a brief moment, they fell silent when he stumbled upon a blanket, a tattered piece of boar hide from the Beast Makers, worn and grimy with age. Yet it was warm, perfect for a night like this. That would do. Moving quietly, he returned to Pari, ensuring to breath into the flickering flames, sending tiny sparks dancing toward the fire. As he handed her the makeshift blanket, memories of Kraken flashed through his mind, haunting him. He cursed himself for confessing his past to Pari, a choice he now regretted. The past was unchangeable and he yearned to stop being tormented by it, as he had been for far too long.

"Thank you, Pari. But the past is just that. Past. The most important know is that we need to figure out how to get you back to… your home. Tomorrow, we’ll head to the Fortress, where my leader awaits. I believe they will know how to help you. You need rest; the journey will be long. I’ll be nearby if you need anything."

"That is the mask I portray so it makes sense you would think that about me. It is by design that I act that way. Like you act the way you do, people hide behind masks to protect themselves all the time. You and I aren't special in that regard Trondo. People always have something they are running from. A reality that we can't accept."

Tomas played his lute in that moment since it felt right to do so in that moment. Sharing his emotions with music came as easily as he breathed. He was a bard more because he could do nothing else.

"It is why I cling to stories and songs as much as I do. I used to have different dreams you know. I once believed no dragon should be held back by the limits of the group they were born into. I wanted to be a Peace Keeper once if you can believe it. I desired to be strong."

"You, one of us? Well… with enough training and a year or two in the blistering heat of the desert, miracles can happen" Trondo quipped, stepping closer to Tomas and sizing him up. "But limitations always exist, no matter how much we might wish otherwise. We are guardians, sure, but let’s face it, we’re not the strongest. A powerful Magic Crafter like Cosmos could tear us apart in less than a minute. Each of the dragons has its own strengths and you have yours, Tomas. You know how to influence people's moods. Whether it's a curse from the fae or not, you've turned that affliction into something beneficial for those around you. Even if you’ve caused me more than a few headaches along the way."

With a measured calmness, Trondo lifted a claw and placed it firmly on Tomas's shoulder, squeezing tightly.

Wulfgar crowning him one of the strongest dragons in the realms, being able to fight Jesse again, returning home to see Andor waiting for him. The promise to see and fight the new leader of the Plunderers again. But he had returned not with happiness. But with soured looks, like he wasn't supposed to have come back. Titan nor Cosmos made no attempt to approach Tomas in any way possible. Though, it made sense. There was threats on the Artisan leader if any of them did anything.

[ " .. I appreciate it. I'm just. This never needed to happen in the first damn place. If- If I had visited him the night prior. He wouldn't be gone. I jus... just wanna go back. " ]

Ragnar took the bottle back from Trondo, taking a swig himself, and snarling as the peace keeper spirits burned at his throat and his sorrows, before once again handing it back to Trondo.

[ " Why must we deal with this much hardship if we cannot.. protect even each other? What are we then? " ]

Ragnar wiped the stray tear from his face as his arms and claws trembled wildly. readjusting on the couch before letting out a shuddering sigh, he didn't know what to do, he felt lost, there wasn't a direction he wanted to go in. It felt like a steep ask to even take a step forward. The World was leaving without him, and Ragnar couldn't.. couldn't keep up. All he wanted to do was go back. But there was no way to do that. Time Travel was impossible. Even if it was.

It would mess future events up. A life for a life.

He hoped Lucas was alright, knowing their guilt.

Trondo rose from the couch, taking a few thoughtful steps forward. His hand brushed against the loose tangled brown mane and from his nostrils, two streams of hot smoke curled upward.

“I’m the worst dragon to offer advice to a friend in shambles. You're right — everything is a fucking mess nowadays'' he said bitterly, voice thick with anger as he raised one claw, squeezing it tightly. “It could have been different. It could have gone another way. We could have had more time… And here we are. I always thought we Peace Keepers were cursed to be the strongest, but also to take the hardest blows from fate.”

In a sudden movement, Trondo turned to face Ragnar. He strode toward him, snatching the bottle and downing its contents with a growl of satisfaction, the fiery liquid sliding down his throat with a pronounced gulp.

Typically, he would have thrown the bottle in rage, shattering it against the wall. That’s what he would have done in his own lair, but he wouldn’t disrespect Ragnar's home in such a manner. Instead, he held the bottle tightly until it menaced to crack under his grip.

“I wish I could turn back time. To know… that all was a trap. To have saved Roxxie before…”

His words escaped, trailing off into a thin whisper in the dim light.

“But there comes a moment when nothing matters anymore. Inside, all that remains is pain and vengeance. The thirst for blood… that should keep you grounded and alive right now, Ragnar.”

Every slash and counter attack was met with a graceful dodge. Duck, slide, jump, dive, every way she could move, she did with precision and speed. It was almost like she was dancing along with him, smiling through the work out.

The sweat dripped from Trondo’s brow, a mix of exertion and the scorching heat of the sun above, each drop resembling a tear falling from his rugged skin. He was alive in this moment, adrenaline coursing through him. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of being outmaneuvered.

During one furious exchange, Trondo braced himself as Reyna lunged. He locked his arm, taut and ready, holding her at bay until every sinew in his body coiled like a spring. Just when he thought he had the upper hand, she flicked her tail with a sharp precision, striking his leg playfully, as if teasing him.

“And I have more surprises in store… if you know where to look” he quipped, his voice carrying a playful challenge.

In a sudden rush, he released his weapon, aiming to execute a new series of spins and movements with the sword, probing for weaknesses in her defense. But in that split second, his lack of experience shone through. The sun glared off the blade, blinding him momentarily. As he stumbled, gravity took over, and he found himself tumbling right on top of Reyna.

Reality hit him like a cold wave as he realized his position, his weight pressing down on her in a way that felt far from honorable. A fierce blush crept up his face, flooding him with embarrassment. Instantly, he scrambled to his feet, extending a hand toward Reyna, hoping to help her rise.

Leaves crunched under Dwight’s feet as he strayed off the path and into the woods. It was as if the little witch didn’t know about attracting attention to him with his careless steps. Any wildlife would be alerted to his presence and scurry away before they could be spoofed.

It was rather dangerous to be straying off the beaten path. It was a natural trail for people wanting to experience nature. For Dwight however, he was on a mission. Winter was just around the corner and if he didn’t collect his plants, then he’d be without ingredients for the season. He could always buy the ingredients, but he preferred to find them on his own.

Dwight sighs and his breath comes out in a cloud. It was already starting to get cold in November; cold enough that Dwight took a coat with him. As Dwight continued to walk through the woods, he froze when he saw something on the ground. It appeared to be massive and that’s when Dwight realized that it appeared alive.

‘Is it a bear’?! Dwight thought to himself.

Upon closer inspection, it didn’t seem like a bear. It didn’t even seem much like an animal. But then what was it? Dwight realized that whatever it was, it appeared to be injured.

The crunch of leaves and the sound of measured footsteps alerted Trondo to the presence of something —or someone— approaching. His senses sharpened, survival instincts flaring to life as never before. With painstaking slowness, the Peace Keeper raised his head. His dreadlocked mane was a tangled mess, obscuring half of his tattooed face and giving him an even wilder, more dangerous look.

"Who... Who are you?" he rasped.

Trondo tried to rise, managing only a few inches before collapsing back to the ground with a heavy thud. He was utterly spent. Those damned military forces from corrupt governments had left him in utter ruin. And yet, he had managed to take down as many as he could before fleeing into the unknown. He needed help. Desperately.