Dav Wren
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- May 6, 2017
- Messages
- 57
- Reaction score
- 37
Wren followed Flesio who followed Priest through the smoke. It was rushing out into the open air, still thick. He chose not to depend on his sight as other senses including intuition, the sixth sense. Dav relaxed as much as it was possible to to relax; that was to say any hostile movement was going to get a knife buried in it.
He had something of an advantage, pulling up the rear-guard. If he heard the sounds of fighting, he knew what was coming. But Dav had been point before too and felt that uncertainty. The Priest clansman didn't seem too young so he was probably lucky or good or both.
Lucky wasn't something you could measure but Dav believed it existed in some capacity. Statisticians said it didn't exist but they weren't fighters, just counters of numbers. Violence was an art even more than it was a science. Art was done by feel.
Flesio had stopped ahead of him, expressing confusion about a helmet he'd found. Dav took the helmet and immediately saw the red.
"This is blood, vode," he told the younger man gruffly but not overly so "This one is taab'echaaj'la."
His actions were brief but mentally significant. Dav saw the colors and knew this Mando'ade had died in the line of duty. There was honor here no matter their loss. The helmet was set down with some care.
@Bailey Arterius @Jacob Flores @Mirdala Priest
He had something of an advantage, pulling up the rear-guard. If he heard the sounds of fighting, he knew what was coming. But Dav had been point before too and felt that uncertainty. The Priest clansman didn't seem too young so he was probably lucky or good or both.
Lucky wasn't something you could measure but Dav believed it existed in some capacity. Statisticians said it didn't exist but they weren't fighters, just counters of numbers. Violence was an art even more than it was a science. Art was done by feel.
Flesio had stopped ahead of him, expressing confusion about a helmet he'd found. Dav took the helmet and immediately saw the red.
"This is blood, vode," he told the younger man gruffly but not overly so "This one is taab'echaaj'la."
His actions were brief but mentally significant. Dav saw the colors and knew this Mando'ade had died in the line of duty. There was honor here no matter their loss. The helmet was set down with some care.
@Bailey Arterius @Jacob Flores @Mirdala Priest