Conclusion

[Skoll]

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Alright, I believe the post order is Skoll, Lubomir, Asmodai, and Iskata. After the first cycle (where Lubomir attacks Asmodai and Iskata demands to know what's going on), I think post-order is going to go down the tubes since I'll be doing some rapid-firing between Skoll and Asmodai. PM me with any questions. He had shifted on his way back to Shadowed Sun, and retrieved his fight gear. The deerskin kilt wrapped snugly across his waist, he secured his shield to it, and his human pack as well, the wooden handle of his axe jutting up, a few inches from his hand. The trek from there seemed to stretch unnaturally long. The oddest part was how blank his thoughts were. He thought of of little other than the wind blowing along the sandy stretch, and the gray clouds hanging low in the sky. The sea breeze picked up, and the waters were brought into short, frothy waves against the sands. He walked on and on, unable to think inward, just taking everything in. From time to time, his right hand would reach for the handle of his axe, almost as if for reassurance, to make sure it was still there. He knew that two fighting blades were deeper in the pack, ready to be drawn quickly once he met his enemy. The sun was well on its way west, though a few hours were left before dusk. Soon, he caught a new scent on the wind, and looked forward, to spy a dot along the strand. He didn't pause, but continued on, hypothetical situations running through his mind. What if it was someone else? How funny that would be, to be wound so tight and find out that it was someone he didn't know, or perhaps a friendly face, someone unexpected who he would talk to...a random encounter to be the last friendly face he met in this life, if he didn't survive. He would need to survive, though, for Asphyxia, and for their children. As he walked ever-forward, the dot grew to become a gray smudge at the edge of his vision, and grew larger still as he came closer. It was undeniably the man he'd met on the Shadowed Sun border. He sat, staring pensively off into the horizon, where the sea met the sky. Skoll was still a few hundred yards away when the other werewolf tilted his head, and recognized his approach, rising to his feet. Skoll continued walking forward, until the two of them stood thirty feet or so apart, and he stopped. He knew that he could have walked on, and begun the fight without words, but he wasn't sure if that was appropriate. "I came," he said, needlessly. Where this went from here was up to the other. He had little doubt that the fight would ensue shortly, but as it hadn't yet begun, there was always the chance that the other would choose to back down. ~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.

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