There exists a place in the Highlands Ascent ruled by primal beasts. Even many Moon Fang who venture into the shallow forest show reverence to the wild nobility, who sit safely above the masses. These Moon Fang refer to this section of the woodlands as The Holt Circus. The gnarly imagery of the Circus ruling class mostly included the likes of lions, wolves, tigers, and even a singular owl, though none sat above Shluter, a colossal coalhound.
Coalhounds, rare creatures, are wolf-like in structure, however, their skin is constructed primarily of a dense, effective coal. It functions as a hard shell against most weaponry, but has a secondary function as well. When lit, the wolf will go into a rabid frenzy, becoming uncontrollable and deadly, much like a berserker rage. Due to this self-destructive mechanism, many coalhounds die young, unable to extinguish their flame and burning themselves away into nothingness. Some coalhounds gain wisdom in their later years, which allows them to ignite and put out their own fires.
Shluter is one of those coalhounds. A bed of leaves and twigs, constructed in a fashion not unlike a massive bird nest, sat atop the highest mound surrounding The Holt Circus Stage; an open area where trials of proving took place. The coalhound, perhaps twelve feet in length and at least six feet tall, sat in its well earned resting place, a set of tired, turquoise eyes gliding over the challenger who took the stage. An audience of animals and Moon Fang sat in attendance, obedient and silent, waiting for the first challenger of the day to speak. It was an unspoken ritual, known at a base-level to any breathing animals, humanoid or not. Any with the slightest ounce of wisdom were drawn to acknowledge.
Shluter did not respond at first, apart from potent huff from the rocky nostrils that managed to shake a few stray pieces from the front of his bed. The Magia stood plainly at the open entrance of the Circus Stage, where a circular arena of flattened grasslands reached farther from the Ascent's outer edge and into a leaf-diluted shade. Behind him, many paces back, there was a road. One of the many paths that lead up the Ascent, and like many others, it didn't reach the top. It served as a path to the Circus for any who wished to find it. A boundary of crumpled helmets drawn in the dirt, letting any who tread further know of the nature of this land. The only suitable armor was a thick skin beneath pelts of fur.
Finally, Shluter released a growl, ending in a violent, crackling pair of barks. Harlow's circuitry sparked, though he had no translation modules for wolf. One of the nearby Moon Fangs laughed, translating to the Magia in a whisper.
Harlow raised his hand before his eyes. In his palm, the handle of his sword materialized, and in a flash of dull steel, the unimpressive, simple weapon was drawn. An unassuming katana. Meanwhile, a family of three wolves received the heavy burden of a glare from the Circus king, inviting them to the floor. They obliged without hesitation, coming to their feet and circling the Magia in a natural hunting instinct. To overwhelm by surrounding.
Noise began to rise in the audience, with the animals and Caenis producing a rhythmic racket of grunts and growls, which surely had more meaning and knowledge in it than Harlow could register.
A dance with wolves. It was time to prove his worth to the Circus, any others who were watching from the sidelines, and whoever might be waiting to go up next.
Coalhounds, rare creatures, are wolf-like in structure, however, their skin is constructed primarily of a dense, effective coal. It functions as a hard shell against most weaponry, but has a secondary function as well. When lit, the wolf will go into a rabid frenzy, becoming uncontrollable and deadly, much like a berserker rage. Due to this self-destructive mechanism, many coalhounds die young, unable to extinguish their flame and burning themselves away into nothingness. Some coalhounds gain wisdom in their later years, which allows them to ignite and put out their own fires.
Shluter is one of those coalhounds. A bed of leaves and twigs, constructed in a fashion not unlike a massive bird nest, sat atop the highest mound surrounding The Holt Circus Stage; an open area where trials of proving took place. The coalhound, perhaps twelve feet in length and at least six feet tall, sat in its well earned resting place, a set of tired, turquoise eyes gliding over the challenger who took the stage. An audience of animals and Moon Fang sat in attendance, obedient and silent, waiting for the first challenger of the day to speak. It was an unspoken ritual, known at a base-level to any breathing animals, humanoid or not. Any with the slightest ounce of wisdom were drawn to acknowledge.
"This is Harlow. This is a place of honor. I hear. I come to find honor. Over."
Shluter did not respond at first, apart from potent huff from the rocky nostrils that managed to shake a few stray pieces from the front of his bed. The Magia stood plainly at the open entrance of the Circus Stage, where a circular arena of flattened grasslands reached farther from the Ascent's outer edge and into a leaf-diluted shade. Behind him, many paces back, there was a road. One of the many paths that lead up the Ascent, and like many others, it didn't reach the top. It served as a path to the Circus for any who wished to find it. A boundary of crumpled helmets drawn in the dirt, letting any who tread further know of the nature of this land. The only suitable armor was a thick skin beneath pelts of fur.
Finally, Shluter released a growl, ending in a violent, crackling pair of barks. Harlow's circuitry sparked, though he had no translation modules for wolf. One of the nearby Moon Fangs laughed, translating to the Magia in a whisper.
"You come for honor?" The huff.
"You must first earn respect." The barks.
"You must first earn respect." The barks.
"Understood."
Harlow raised his hand before his eyes. In his palm, the handle of his sword materialized, and in a flash of dull steel, the unimpressive, simple weapon was drawn. An unassuming katana. Meanwhile, a family of three wolves received the heavy burden of a glare from the Circus king, inviting them to the floor. They obliged without hesitation, coming to their feet and circling the Magia in a natural hunting instinct. To overwhelm by surrounding.
Noise began to rise in the audience, with the animals and Caenis producing a rhythmic racket of grunts and growls, which surely had more meaning and knowledge in it than Harlow could register.
A dance with wolves. It was time to prove his worth to the Circus, any others who were watching from the sidelines, and whoever might be waiting to go up next.
SP - 3
DC - 25
Retal - 35
DC - 25
Retal - 35
