Peaceful. For the first time in a very long time, it was peaceful. It was no wonder that tranquility was not meant to last. A vague sense of magical tension filled his bones and anxiety began to mount, wondering, seeking, trying to find this source of pressure that encroached upon his being. It didn't take long, as fire erupted from east of him and Torleik's ears went flack back. 

Shit. 

Were they being attacked?

Summoning the armor the Moon Goddess had gifted him, the Bloodskald tore his way through his home, his kingdom, towards this explosive fire despite every fiber in his being telling him such magic was not something to run towards. And then there was the giant burning ball in the sky, like a second sun, and the general-turned-king skidded to a halt. 

Fuck.

They hadn't any manner to summon the warriors, man any defenses - their herd was still too small, a fledgling little thing just unfurling its wings. Gods help him he hoped Mauja was within their borders. Polkadot was a right bitch sometimes but Torleik would never say the Queen couldn't fight. Digging his solid hooves into the barely thawing ground and resuming his frantic, heart-crashing pace, the King of the World's Edge found himself swiftly upon a scene that was almost too much for him to accept. Not because Mauja was there. Not because an immense amount of magic was being used. 

But because the son of a bitch who'd spewed acidic vitriol at him and his newborn companion for simply existing near the formerly breathtaking glass wall was here. 

At their borders. 

Stating he would live here whether Mauja liked it or not. 

Looking back, Torleik could rank moments in his life where he truly desired to murder another and leave their bloated carcass displayed, on which the crows might feast for days. Mauja occupied one of those moments, for hurting Ophelia as he had when the Bloodskald had found her forlorn and languishing by the hot springs in the Basin. This moment? This moment surpassed that with the intensity of that fireball in the sky it looked as though Lace was summoning. The hate burning in the air screamed for a sacrifice. This small war was on the brink of culmination. Time seemed to stand still, and the warrior in him consumed his mind, slipping into every crack of his stubborn-but-kind, aloof-but-well-meaning form, oozing out over the softer form inside and hardening him for what was to come. That part inside? It liked the violence; it cherished the pain, the kill. 

It wanted Lace's blood. 

Pride rankled at the idea that Mauja would be first to draw it, but there was naught the Bloodskald could do about it now. Burning blue flames cast their gaze around, seeing the land, seeing the obstacles, seeing Lace, Mauja - Nyx. Had she brought him here? Had she chanced upon this after the display of fire and sun? The look on her face of tightly controlled fear, prancing...it told him this was her doing. She understood this situation, had been part of its orchestration. There was guilt in that anxious dance. But thoughts on Nyx and her (possible) stupidity were inconsequential. 

The dam broke and what rushed forth was Mauja's violence - what Torleik interpreted as a stab for Lace's heart, and a vicious eruption of deadly ice beneath the former World's Edge leader. It was all too fast, but moved so very slow, and the Bloodskald knew if Mauja's attacks did not hit, they were in for a battle. He would pace, like a caged and starved beast in the back, waiting for his moment to strike. He was consumed with battle lust, willing the white spotted beast to reign destruction on their hated enemy.

And if the Frostheart didn't finish the job, Torleik would be ready to gore Lace's heart and crush it beneath his hooves on the still-frozen ground. 




    Hey I'm talking here 

OOC: Throwing Torleik in so he can observe.