Walk With Me

JP with Omni and Winteroak

Berus did not partake in the drinking. He did not consume alcohol. His dog‘s head was laying over his lap as he stroked the beast and looked into the fire. His eyes kept being drawn to Sun Hair.

He knew before the moon was out the two would be talking about what was coming. He had much to tell her and was not sure she was going to like it.

After downing her beverage and thanking Ekero, Voah moved next to Berus. Slightly agitated at the sudden approach, the dog perked its head up.

She held out a friendly hand to be sniffed, provoking the respective response. The dog measured her scent and found her to be acceptable before allowing her to touch its fur.

She reached behind the dog’s ear and gave him happy scratches. Finally, Voah sat down alongside Berus.

“Greetings, little master.”

"Walk with me." He asked leaving the rest of the group around the fire. Word of the woman had spread around Bonecasters and the tribes. A warrior from across the sea that hunted the blood of Erewhon. The signs after that had been cleared, the fates of this woman and that of the tribes were intertwined. For better or worse. Once they were a little away from the others he started.

"Have you heard of the defeat of the tribes in the Plains?" He asked looking up at the moon. "Your people are not to be underestimated it seems. No one had ever broken the tribes so." He told her truthfully. "You seem to have been bred for battle. To fight what you call magik. And that is something unheard of in Arcadia." He looked back at her. "Scores upon scores of Bonecasters dead in one afternoon..."

It was strange speaking candidly to a boy, or someone who appeared to be so young, about such topics. Voah wrapped her robes a little tighter as a night breeze blew across the sand.

“You have the right of it… Our people have been taught for generations that magik is an abomination of nature. That it is an evil originating from demons. That it dangerous and must be stomped out at whatever cost…

But… while many a wielder can die in one battle. A sorcerer can kill a city in an instant. My people have witnessed this.”

He nodded. He knew her words to be true. There were always those that abused their gifts. The strong always dominated the weak. He was not going to argue her point.
"We saw your coming. Not just your people but you. Erewhon whispered that the tribes would never be the same again after your arrival. He stopped looking up at her gaunt face. So much pain, as if the woman's should was being pulled in different direction.

"Many in the far north say your coming heralded the defeat of the Odsier. But I for one am not so sure."

“I met with the Grey Mouth… their people were welcoming and respectful to mine. They gave me a similar message and spoke of Erewhon’s whisperings. Have you any news of the tribes? Do any still live?” she asked with genuine concern.

The ex-arbiter had many questions but the possible destruction of an entire people and their culture weighed heavy on her mind.