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He'd followed the man who was the Basin's General, intrigued by how often he'd seen the male go off alone. Did he find himself strong? Was being confronted by a single other not a threat? Varath was tempted to rush this larger stallion and try to take him by surprise just for the fuck of it.
But, as amusing as that would be, it would also be immensely foolish.
So the young male hung back, watching, learning, calculating what he believed the Bloodskald's weaknesses to be. Likely that tiny bird creature that was always with him. He had yet to learn her name, or what she was, exactly, but she was small, and small things were weak. Or so he presumed.
This self-appointed recon mission was aborted when the dark-hearted half-blood saw, like Torliek, those who were...nearby. There were only a few, some passing through, others lingering for a moment, but it was still suspicious. Given that they were all different species Varath imagined - or did he? - that he smelled blood in the air.
That was what drew them all, wasn't it? The stench of sickly sweet, saccharine-sticky mortality?
Silently, the young male entered the cavern and gazed around. One pegasus dead, covered in ice. A male at her feet. Traveling companion? Lover? Varath didn't know and didn't care. His only desire was to catch this killer and then kill him - such an act would bring him prestige and respect.
Little tufts of white downfeather clung to the ice around the bodies and Varath leaned down, nares wide, trying to recognize a scent. Nothing. Of course. He didn't know any vile winged ones - save for maybe that fucking abomination of a filly that he saw flitting around here or there. From what he understood she was the offspring of a god.
Wasn't that special.
Frown on his lips, he turned and left. The others would want to know of this. For now, sizing up the Basin's General could wait.
"blah blah blah."
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen...and Phantom
Ulrik
Deodat
Varath
Phantom
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