[Job Thread][Northern Gauthrel] The hound's graces

[Varthakh]

19th Saun 717

Twenty trials. For an entire twenty trials, Fridgar and Alistair had been afflicted by the dance of the graces. He'd gotten through it a lot quicker than most other hounds, likely due to his immense strength and endurance. Alistair was a little slower, but Fridgar decided to wait for him before setting off for their journey to the North. Now, to complete the genetic modifications and allow their first mutagens to take hold, they had to drink the blood of a Sohr Khal. How they would manage such a feat in their condition though, was beyond him. For trials, the two had traversed the fields and now the mountains. The sun of Saun beat down on his Feldorei pelt and skull helm, burning him through the hide. Saun was hot enough without being expected to climb a mountain. Couldn't this have waited until Vhalar? Nope.

The sooner they got this over with, the better. That, and he would have bragging rights over every other Jeger if he succeeded! The only problem was that he couldn't use becoming anymore, since fighting the Lurkers and overstepping hard. This had happened in Ashan, though a lot less severe. In a way, it was sort of comforting. This whole trial, it was testament of his might, his raw physical strength and durability, his connection to his beloved. all these things would contribute to his victory, not some totem spam and an instant victory, though Alistair probably didn't share his enthusiasm.

The dance of the graces was a trial... more of a medical procedure... that involved altering the genetic make-up of the subject, opening room for mutagens that physically alter the biology of the Jeger afflicted. The process was completed by ingesting the blood of the feathered dragon, saint of the skies: the Sohr Khal. Instead of keeping a load of Khal blood ready for use, the Jeger thought it more fitting to have the aspiring Dire traverse to Northern Gauthrel by themselves to slay one of these beasts. Being carnivorous by mutation, Fridgar didn't worry about drinking its blood. Instead, he worried for fighting a creature of that speed and grace in his current condition.

He was tired, weak, hungry, thirsty, sweaty, unwashed... These factors would work against him, yet he still walked the winding path of the mountain at his lover’s side. The stone on the soles of his feet was boiling hot, stinging with every step. The Saun suns were ridiculously hot, difficult to walk in, let alone climb a mountain. He wouldn't last too much longer in the hot sun, that much he knew. So, instead of burning himself out, he motioned to a nearby boulder that cast a large shadow, tapping his mate on the shoulder as he panted and wheezed, trying to gather his breath. "Alistair... let's rest for a bit..." Fridgar's voice came dry as he stumbled, losing balance with the lightness of his head.

When the human agreed, the pair stumbled for the shade before Fridgar threw himself to the stone and removed his water skin from his loin cloth. he offered it to Alistair first, just in case he hadn't any water left. then, he'd drink whatever was left, refusing to spill or waste a drop. Hydration was precious up here, both needed it just as much as air now. They needed to keep covered, even though the hide was ridiculously warm and sweaty. if they stayed exposed to the sun, they could get heat stroke and die. Yes, this was life and death and they hadn't even met the Sohr Khal yet. No wonder the Jeger had allowed them to go together.

Most of his front had burned in the sun, the skin was red and peeling, disgusting in appearance. he'd even blistered in some parts, not cause by friction. His back was mostly fine, just slightly burned from the constant sun beating down on him. His neck and head were also fine, protected by the skull and the Feldorei pelt he wore. Hell, with their endurance, they shouldn't be facing many problems at all. But the suns of Saun... And the dance of the graces... It was just too much for any mortal, no matter how resilient.

[Alistair]

Why did agile fighters need to wear leather? Metal was clunky and could restrict movements, but... leather was hot. No matter how well crafted, no one could deny the sweaty and heated conditions from inside of one of these... animal skin suits. While he wasn't going to be burning and tanning quite as much as Fridgar, Alistair had to be sweating at least the same volumes, if not more. Saun was miserable.

This whole season had been miserable. Half of it was spent in this condition - sweating and burning, and weakened, winnowed. He had been drained of his energy and his drive, left clinging to whatever cold he could find. The mage found himself laying about in the small creek beside Kaelserad often, rubbing his temples and wishing the Dance of the Graces would somehow spontaneously subside.

This whole thing - it was anguish. To be changed to this extent was something that required an immense fortitude. The body did not respond well to such drastic adjustments, particularly not by means of a forceful alchemical mutagen. Amniotic therapy - as they called it - was not a therapeutic process.

But, today it was meant to end. With the blood of the Sohr Khal in a state of even greater fatigue, the process would be complete, and they would be considered a step closer to achieving the status of Dire. Did Alistair really care that much about becoming a Dire? Not truly, but - he'd committed to becoming a Hound, and he'd taken the mutagen. This was the only way to make the pain stop, so - that was all he could really think about.

Fridgar recommended rest, and the mage easily obliged, nodding his head and following the man into the shelter that had revealed itself. He took a breath after stepping beneath the shade that blocked the sun, smiling pleasingly at the sudden drop in temperature, or at least heat exposure. This was much better. Fridgar then offered him his waterskin, the mage nodding and drinking from it before pulling his domain bag from his belt and grabbing from it his own waterskin, grinning.

"I have half a lake's worth of water in there, not counting this," he smirked, eternally pleased at his ridiculously useful magical bag. "So I'll deign to let you drink from the waterskin."

If Fridgar accepted, Alistair would hand it to him, allowing Fridgar to consume the rest of his own and the entirety of Alistair's. The mage could drink from his domain bag - it was a non-issue.

"My love, why don't we just blink to the top? I don't really think the other Jegers care if we use magic..." he pointed out, bashfully looking to Fridgar, who was inevitably to dominantly reject his completely logical proposition.

[Varthakh]

Fridgar laid his head back against the boulder as they rested, relishing in the false coolness of the shade. Both were exhausted, tired and weak. Morale was low, too. This rest was vital, they might not have made it to the top, otherwise. When he looked to his beloved though, he found that he'd brought his magical bag... of course. half a lake's worth of water?! Was he serious?! "You know how I feel about magic in these trials, my love..." Fridgar reminded through some hot and heavy breaths.

When asked if he wanted some, Fridgar would look between his beloved and his own waterskin. Did he? Did he want some? Could he bring himself to drink filthy lake water from a magical item that was blatantly cheating? "Nah, you drink up, my Kindal," he nodded, a certain dryness in his mouth growing more and more present. Even so, he had faith that they would find some sort of cool water flow. His efforts in toughing it out would be rewarded. So, he drank the rest of his water skin before tying it to his Loincloth once more.

He then rested, closing his eyes and laying his head back. His mate's next request broke his eyes open, though. He turned to him, a wild look in his mismatched eyes. "Alistair!" he gasped, as though the human had blasphemed. "Blink to the top!? You have to be kidding!" Fridgar couldn't manage any more silliness before dropping back to the stone and sighing. "Come Vhalar, I'll have to punish you for that. Just remind me, okay?" He trusted his Kindal would enjoy the punishment he had in mind, regardless.

The Lothar lazily turned his head over, looking to the winding path ahead of them. There was no shade for another five hundred meters ascending. "Well... Are you ready?" He asked, rubbing his thumb into the soreness of his bare soles. If Alistair was indeed ready, Fridgar would thrust hard into the ground with the pole of his spear and push up. His whole body argued against it, begging to stay there for just a bit longer, but his head wouldn't allow it. He made sure to adjust his pelt and skull before looking to his beloved. He didn't like seeing his mate in discomfort like this, but he was adamant about the use of magic. Only the weak of body had to use their ether like a crutch and they were not weak.

Stifling a grunt, he pushed forward and slung his axe back onto his shoulder. the heat of the sun hitting him made the struggle overwhelming in an instant. Still, he persisted and pushed through. The whole dance would have been so much easier if he weren't afflicted with this terrible medical experiment. The same applied to his beloved surely, as the dance affected him far worse than it did Fridgar. "I'm sorry, Alistair. If you like, you can blink to that cover over there," he pointed to the turn around the mountain, completely sheltered and likely very cool.

Whether he did or not, Fridgar persisted in the ascent. Step after step, he pushed into the red-hot stone and dragged his own and his axes weight along. His legs shook with fatigue as he neared the four-hundred-meter mark, only one hundred left to go. He then resorted to using the polearm of his axe as a crutch, and helped himself for the remainder of the distance. he looked over his shoulder to his beloved, if he didn't blink. If all was well, then he would continue rising.

Wherever Alistair was, he would see and hear a fly buzzing about before landing on his forehead. Fridgar would have the same, but landing on his forearm. a brush of his paw sent it buzzing off. Just two trills later, another flew about and buzzed in the eye socket of his helm. Two trills passed of irritating buzzing before Fridgar lost his temper. Shutting his eye, he bared his teeth and began to slam his paw into the helm, trying his best to murder the damned fly. Fridgar snarled as the buzzing got more intense before disappearing. The fly had escaped and took to the air.

Enraged, Fridgar continued the rest of the journey upward, ripping his axe from the floor and storming the rest of the way up. He ignored the pain and the fatigue as he lumbered up the mountain, seething with rage. Alistair would be forgiven for blinking if he hadn't already. When at last he made it to the checkpoint, Fridgar rushed into the shade before dropping his axe and collapsing onto his knees, then his face. A cloud of dust would be pushed out from beneath him as he fell, breathing and panting heavily, completely spent.

He pressed into the floor with his palm and turned himself over, looking for his beloved. When at last he saw the human, he sighed. "The stone... It's cool... The sun hasn't touched it totrial, I think," he shared. Another three flies all began to buzz around the pair. One landed on Fridgar's chest while the other two pestered Alistair. Seeing red, Fridgar slammed his paw into his sore, blistered, red skin. This time, he killed the fly but accidentally burst one of his blisters.

The Lothar shuddered, pain wracking his from as he looked to the squashed menace. "Cunt," he spat at the fly before wiping it into the stone. "That's what you fucking get, prick fly," Fridgar snorted, a hard breath of anger let lose through his nostrils. "Why the fuck are there so many flies up here? I thought they stuck near the water?" Fridgar asked, failing to realise the connotations of the presence of flies for a trill. Three of them later, he sat up, eyes wide through his skull mask. Lifting it, his jaw was dropped agape, curling into a smile.

"What if there is water up here!?" Fridgar asked, rolling onto his front paws before stumbling to his feet and taking his axe. Sure, everything stung, but he was way excited. He leaned against the wall of the mountain and edged himself around, looking for the source of water. As he delved deeper into the shaded part, the sound of rushing water could be heard echoing. he got a couple dozen meters from where they'd been resting before finding a huge cave entrance. it was completely black inside, except for a faint blue glow deep within.

"ALISTAIR!" Fridgar called out a screech, his voice dry and broken. Water could be heard rushing from within. What is more, the air inside felt... cold? At least a lot cooler than where they were now. "What do you think, want to take a look?"

[Alistair]

Fridgar was such a grump whenever they performed a Jeger trial together. Instead of doing them smartly and effectively with magic, he always wanted to perform all of these trials with his body alone, which made them much longer and more arduous. Magic was a useful tool - the kindal didn't see the point in abstaining from its use. But then, that was Fridgar's way. He didn't want to utilize a Domain Bag, even though it wasn't necessarily magic... and he didn't want to blink. Fine.

...Maybe.

"But it's hooooooot, Fridgaaaaaar," the kindal whined. Perhaps he was one of the greatest men alive when it came to endurance, but he still couldn't bear Saun's heat. Alistair was from a land where all seasons were beautiful, and did not deviate to any notable highs or lows - the two extreme seasons always threw him awry without fail, each and every arc. And god, Saun had to have been even worse in Northern Gauthrel. It was both more extreme in its cold, and its heat, from what he'd read before totrial.

Regardless of his pouting, he did not blink, and instead followed his havendal side-by-side with a gruesome expression, his lips sunken as if he'd just lost someone dear to him. The heaaaaaat, he kept repeating internally. It's awwwfuuul.

"Don't punish me please, Fridaddy," he teased, his voice growing innocent as he passively glanced to the other male. "You're already punishing me right now by not blinking. Must you be so cruel?" he questioned, his face dropping upon the final word, emphasizing his speech dramatically. Being a goofball was apparently his coping mechanism.

They ascended upward, Alistair throwing his palms around rapidly to swat away the flies. By the time they arrived at the cool stone and the sound of running water, his irritation levels had spiked, and the relative cool had done great to alleviate his annoyance. The mage quickly sprung forward to investigate the stream running through the cave, and stared into the dark of it with a grin. A chilly air ran through, at least comparatively to Saun's searing wrath.

"MY LOVE!" he exhaled, joy overcoming him. "It's colder in here! There is hope yet!" the mage rose a hand to cheer, before quickly calming himself down with a breath. Prancing into the cave, he spun with every step, excited. That was until a beast flew past him, so quickly that he barely felt the air around its wings whipping past his skin. The mage stumbled backward and clung onto the wall, witnessing the Sohr Khal flying into the distance, becoming naught but a black silhouette within moments. Alistair stared with piqued interest, glad to have narrowly avoided being plucked off into oblivion... though he supposed he could have just blinked back.

"Fridgar, did you see that? That was epic," he grinned. "There are Sohr Khal here... I hope that wasn't the only one, though," he frowned. That would suck, he concluded, looking back at the cave as he began to step forward.

Then, his eyes fell towards large white eggs with a red chromatic color shimmering along their edges. The eggs were huge, the size of a human child. Were they Sohr Khal eggs? Something else? He didn't know.

"Fridgar, do you think these are their eggs?" he questioned, curiously. "Maybe we can wait for them to hatch and then drink Sohr Khal baby blood," Alistair said, sarcasm gracing his lips.

[Varthakh]

Fridgar was not a grump on these Jeger trials, Fridgar simply had the strong desire to prove his worth just like every other Lothar: Without magic. He was adamant and perhaps a little obsessive and compulsive about the whole thing, but he was not a grump! "I know it's hot Alistaaaaaaair," Fridgar mocked with a grin, he and sarcasm had become quite acquainted in recent trials. "We're men, my love. We don't need magic, we just need biceps!" This time around, Fridgar joined in on his beloved's silliness, instead of chastising him like he did in the last trial. "My rose..." Fridgar panted, groaning with discomfort in the beating sun.

Just calling to his beloved made him feel better, somehow. "I'll punish you if I want, Alibaby..." he retorted in regard to Alistair's 'Fridaddy' comment. "You are my Kindal, I can be as cruel or kind as I please!" He leaned over to peck at his beloved's cheek before taking the human's hand in his own. "And if we make it out of here without using magic, baby, I'll definitely be open to treating you instead..." he offered through gasps as the air grew thinner and thinner.

He couldn't help but weakly laugh when his beloved flailed his arms in a desperate attempt to shoo off the fly. His beloved Alistair, he was so cute all the time, but especially when he was tired and being attacked by flies. The heart warming feeling then faded as his own tormentor landed in the eye socket of his skull helm. After more-or-less dragging the human the rest of the way, both were quite irritant, but Fridgar was relieved by the shade.

Even more relief followed with the sound of rushing waters. His mate then screeched into the opening of the cave, echoing his voice. This was a sign that the cave opened into a large cavern somewhere along the line. "Alistair, wait!" he called out as the mad human ran into the darkness. Gripping his axe tightly, Fridgar ran into the cold air after him, only to dive to the floor when a dragon emerged and flew overhead. "Fuck!" Fridgar cried as he fell, scrambling to his feet with a sudden burst of energy.

He looked to the cave entrance as he rolled onto all fours, the dragon's silhouette shrinking in the distance before turning and beginning to grow. The creature was coming back for its eggs, unknown to Fridgar. "Alistair, it's coming back!" Fridgar warned, bracing himself and readying his broad axe, now glad that he'd bothered to bring it. A faint blue glow filled the atmosphere around them, though Fridgar still didn't know it's source. Just half a bit after it had left, the creature landed at the entrance of the cave in a demonstration of supreme skill.

Fridgar recognised it immediately, it smelt like a roast dinner, waiting to be devoured. The Sohr Khal stood opposite them, squawking viciously and lowering it's body threateningly. Vicious and feral, the creature rushed forward at the two, whether they were ready or not. Just behind the creature was a ledge, cliffside of the mountain with only seven metres of space. Channelling his Lotharen adrenaline, Fridgar was prepared to spend the very last of his energy fighting this beast to the death.

The creature lunged at Fridgar, it's jaws spread wide as it attempted to bite him. Obviously, there wasn't enough room to tactically fly in the cave entrance, so the beast resorted to close quarters combat. Fridgar raised the pole of his axe and blocked the bite by pushing with all his strength into the pit if it's jaw. He held there as the creature thrashed its head and tried to move the Lothar. Shaking and struggling with the strain, Fridgar held firm and pressed further into the Sohr Khal, pushing it back a few inches at a time. "ALISTAIR!" Fridgar roared, frantic. "STAB IT!"

[Alistair]

"Biceps, my love?" the mage questioned, raising his eyes in an effort not to roll them instead. "I don't think biceps will save us from sweltering heat, dear - but blinking might," he nodded. "Plus, I already have great biceps, and it isn't really helping me much..." Alistair grumbled, poking at his firm and developed arm muscles. The mage had few comparisons when it came to his physique, and the efficiency thereof - but his biceps were certainly not doing anything for him here. Or were they? he wondered. "Hrrrrrm," he sounded beneath his breath.

As for whether Fridgar could be as 'cruel or kind as he pleased'... the smaller mage crossed his arms and 'hmph'ed. "My love, I can be cruel in my own ways," he pointed out, glancing at him with a side-eye. "You can punish me, but if I'm feeling downtrodden by my husband's cruelty, I can always just deny him all access to the things he likes... like sensuous rubbings," the mage threatened, grinning. The Lothar had forgotten how much power Alistair had over him - he had his own magic, and Fridgar had to treat him well if he wanted a taste of it.

. . .

The Sohr Khal began to make its return as it flew rapidly across the landscape, landing between the two men and screeching loudly in the face of the Lothar. It lunged for the man and caught his axe within its maw, wrestling with the man as its tail began to whip back and forth rapidly in an attempt to keep Alistair away. The mage was not bothered by this - he swiped his spear rapidly with a spinning twirl, dicing the appendage and rending much of the tail tail from the body of the beast, the fallen flesh going limp on the floor. Despite what had to have been immense pain, the creature did not squeal or cry out - it remained quiet, breathless, struggling against the Lothar aimlessly.

That was when the second Sohr Khal circled around, the beast jetting across the mountain side and zig-zagging in the air, slowing slightly before reaching the back of the man and attempting to grab Fridgar into a tight grasp with its tail. Alistair leaped acrobatically onto the back of the other, spearing it through the brain before guiding its head onto the floor, as Fridgar's axe swept through and cleaved off half of its skull through its now-limp maw.

Leaping from the back of the Sohr Khal, Alistair threw his spear, Shadowsong landing close to the heart of the creature and lodging into its flesh. It screeched out in pain, but began to take flight, seeking to bring Fridgar with it through whatever grip its tail might have mustered along his waist. Alistair opened a Nail, high-pressure water ripping through and spraying at the Sohr Khal, decreasing its momentum in taking flight and weighing it down. The rest, however, was up to Fridgar.

[Varthakh]

His expression dropped with horror at Alistair's words. Denied sensuous rubbings? No... He couldn't handle it. "Alistair!" Fridgar cried out despite the sweltering heat. "You know I was only joking! I would never be cruel to you, you know that!" The Lothar laughed nervously before hanging his head, exhausted. "Fine, as soon as we're done with the Sohr Khal, I'll treat you, I promise..." The tired Lothar then pulled Alistair closer before snuggling against him, despite the severity of his sunburn. He'd kiss at the human's head, unintentionally glazing his lips with his beloved's sweat.

...

Then, the pair arrived at the Sohr Khal's lair, engaging in combat. The creature tried to whip its tail to keep Alistair away, only to have the appendage cut clean from its body. The creature didn't seem to care though. Instead, it pushed harder against Fridgar, edging him outward, only for Fridgar to push back. Surprisingly, the creature wasn't all that strong, more of a moderate beast at best. But, Fridgar's strength was low, he hadn't eaten and scarcely drank.

For that reason, his concentration was piss poor as the second Sohr Khal flew for the entrance and span, wrapping Fridgar’s torso with its tail. Alistair then acrobatically flipped and drove his spear through its skull, stabbing it as instructed. Letting loose the pressure on his axe, the blade slid and cut through its head, revealing Alistair's spear buried deep within its brain as it travelled to the floor. the tail around him constricted, squeezing tighter as if trying to deny him breath before pulling and yanking his whole body in a violent tug.

Fridgar would be ripped back, forced to act. In a wild panic, he would slam the blade of his axe into the cave wall, lodging the curved blade in the stone as Alistair threw his spear and lodged it in the chest of the beast, likely puncturing a lung or something. Just then, high pressure water sprayed from... A NAIL?! Of course! Alistair had found an excuse to use magic! I didn't want the Khal to drop you from a thousand feet, my love, he could already hear the human's excuse!

Regardless, the high-pressure water sprayed and battered the Sohr Khal to the floor for its duration. As it took flight, Fridgar was pulled between the Sohr Khal and the rock as he desperately clung to his axe. Each powerful beat of its wings threatened to rip him from the pole of his broad axe. The Lothar was dangling off the floor at full strain, holding for dear life as the creature pulled his waste. No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't muster the strength to pull the Sohr Khal down or to fight back, he was doomed.

That was until a fly landed directly on his nose, buzzing like the cunt it was. The edges of his vision filled with red at the mere sight of the beast before it took flight, exploring the eye socket of the skull he wore once more. Everything became red as he entered a Lotharen blood rage, adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins as he roared, clenching tight with one hand, he let loose and slapped the fly in his helm, killing it and breaking the skull, he wore. The bone would shatter around his head and fall apart, dropping to the floor in shards.

Fridgar then reached behind him, seething with an unrelenting anger before gripping the tail of the dragon and pulling hard. All the muscle on his upper half would burn and bulge as he pulled, succeeding in dragging the dragon back a little as the flapping of its wings grew more frantic. Fridgar wouldn't have it. Veins bulged and throbbed across his reddening skin as he pulled harder, dragging the dragon back into the cave to the point that his feet even touched the floor again.

With a final violent tug, Fridgar pulled the beast and slammed it to the floor on its front. The spear in its chest thrust deeper, proceeding all the way through the Sohr Khal's back. the tail around him grew loose, but he didn't care. he yanked again and sent the weakened avianic reptile skidding across the cool stone toward him. malice in his eyes, he let the tail go and stood over the creature with its wings tucked away. Violently and merciless, he ripped the spear from its back and discarded it, completely coated in Sohr Khal blood. The beast shrieked with pain before being flipped onto it's back.

Growling and snarling like some sort of animal, Fridgar wrapped his paws around the creature's head, giving it time to claw and slash at his legs with it's dangerous Talons. It rended flesh and even exposed some bone, but Fridgar didn't seem to notice. Instead, he'd worked his paw to its jaws as it thrashed, desperate. Fridgar then pushed the tips of his claws into its maw and pulled, parting the Sohr Khal's jaw slightly before working his fingers between its sharp teeth for leverage. With an ear deafening roar from both parties, Fridgar pulled as hard as he could, ripping its jaw agape slowly before reaching the maximum jaw opening distance... then surpassing it.

With a resounding snap, the creature's jaw broke and crunched, splintering beneath its scales before being bent back to touching its neck. With an orifice presented to him, Fridgar threw his fist into the gullet of the dragon, knowing that it couldn't use its jaw anymore. He gripped as much flesh as he could and pulled hard, ripping its throat from its neck with a massive spurt of blood, like a fountain. The beast shuddered and jolted before falling limp in Fridgar's grasp. The blood flow slowed to a halt, signalling that it's heart had stopped.

Fridgar then looked over to his shoulder to his beloved, painted with the blood of his opponent, still flared and red skinned. As he calmed though, his knees shook before giving out from under him, his calves mangled and destroyed began to bleed. Still numb to the pain, Fridgar gripped the mangled neck of the Sohr Khal and bit into the jugular, letting the blood run free with the aid of gravity. He then laid down beside it and dragged the creature's broken neck over himself before swallowing the chewed-up meat and letting the blood flow directly into his mouth, swallowing it in gulps.

This, this was the life.

[Alistair]

This was it. The punching God had awakened - Fridgar had gone full animal on the Sohr Khal, all supposedly due to the buzzing irritation of the fly. The creature, which seemed destined to carry him away to an inevitable fall (presuming Alistair didn't portal nab him) was overwhelmed by the sheer anger-fueled power of the Lothar, who gripped its tail, spun it and slammed the beast into the floor. He then brutalized it, taking its jaw in his grip and crushing it, rendering it agape, an anguish encompassing the monstrous avian predator.

As a final measure, Fridgar tore the throat from the beast, before proceeding to devour its raw flesh and drink its blood, a euphoric stupor consuming the burly man. Alistair watched with a mixture of fascination and horror - while he'd seen this before, Fridgar had never quite gotten so savage in such a short trill. Alistair was, mostly though, impressed with his lover and generally astounded by his powerful performance. The mage began to smile faintly, moving behind the enraged Lothar as he devoured the beast, gripping him in a gentle grip from behind as his fingers poked at his pectorals and nipples.

"Fridgar, you alright?" he asked, somewhat sarcastically. Obviously the man wasn't quite encountering the world as a Lothar at the moment - and he didn't altogether look like one either, as large as he was, with big horns extended from the sides of his head. His mate had truly become bestial in his appearance, and while a great deal of his personality had become civilized and educated, the fundamental nature of who Fridgar was remained. Alistair was not truly afraid - but he did not feel entirely comfortable drinking blood from a beast as his lover tore off chunks of it for eating, ravaging its body.

He'd rather Fridgar helped him calmly to its ichor, if anything. If that was at all possible.

"That was heroic, my love," the mage whispered, gripping his husband more firmly as he wrapped his arms around his abdomen. "I'm sorry I couldn't have been of more help. My movements have been a bit sloppier during this whole... Dance of the Graces thing. And I kind of wanted to see my man do his thing - it was inspiring," the mage stated, nodding with a small smile.

"I suppose we're done after I get some of their blood. Do you feel any differently, Fridgar? Does something click when the blood runs through your throat? Can we finally be done with all of these trials of misery?" he questioned. It had been a difficult time, for both of them. They'd barely done anything the last twenty trials - Alistair had been off in Rynmere engaging in politics, coming home to Fridgar for the remaining several breaks of each day. The man hadn't been able to Become anything, either. It was rough.

But it was over. They were really Hounds now - the Dance of the Graces was about to end. What was next - Dire? The mage shook his head. He didn't think he'd ever get there. But Fridgar could. He could lead a pack, maybe even involve Alistair into it. The mage wasn't sure, but . . . he was strong, and capable. Fridgar was a real man among men - he'd be the Jackal in no time at this rate.

Snuggling to his havendal, he stood quietly. Maybe Fridgar would offer him some of the blood? He didn't really want to be grotesque about it, but his Thorn probably didn't care . . .

[Varthakh]

For the first few bits following the Sohr Khal's brutal death, Alistair's words were drowned out by the ringing in his ears. Was he alright? No. He was way deep in fight mode. The heat made it impossible to keep cool, his fatigue was irritating, the constant tugging on his already exhausted form was aggravating, the flies were conduits for unbridled fury. He'd never truly entered a Lotharen blood rage, but he'd always had a pretty good control of his adrenaline. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and he happened to discover the massive strength boost it awarded him, even if it were only temporary. What were the consequences for entering this state? He'd soon find out.

He flinched as the human touched him, jolting a little at the feeling of smaller hands on his burned skin. Heroic? No, it was barbaric! Fridgar stirred a grunt between gulps of Sohr Khal blood. Slowly, the red in his vision subsided and the weakness in his bones faded. Not only dissipating the dance of the graces, but filling his body with much needed protein. It was therapeutic, in a way. His hearing returned in time for Alistair's apology, to which he gulped hard and lowered the Sohr Khal neck. He held there, breathing for a few trills as Alistair hugged him from behind.

"Don't be sorry, my rose," The Lothar chimed, still shaking a little as he came down from his adrenal high. "It was lots of fun, I've never done that before," Fridgar grinned, his features painted in blood. Did he feel differently? He felt... better. With all of his energy returning, hell, he felt unstoppable if not for a little sore. "I feel great, all the symptoms are gone and I'm... seeing things faster? Somehow, my reflexes are even faster than before," wasn't that the point of the mutagen? Surely with that, Palenon and his skill in combat, he would see attacks coming from miles away.

Finally coming to most of his senses, Fridgar dropped the Sohr Khal in a panic. "Shit! We need to get you some!" Fridgar looked about frantically, no way would Alistair get himself all dirty like Fridgar. His beloved was still an aristocrat at heart, he had to find a different way, a better way to feed his mate the salty, thick, coppery Khal blood. Eventually, he spied his shattered Feldorei skull, the one he'd smashed without realising it. Quickly, he pulled himself away from Alistair's embrace and approached the broken shards. The back of the skull was mostly intact and rounded nicely while the scalp had been broken beforehand, making way for his horns.

Ecstatic, Fridgar brushed the inside of the skull shard free of any filth before approaching the fallen Sohr Khal and placing the make-shift bowl on the floor. He then lifted the Khal and blood let it's throat to drip into the bowl. Once it was full, Fridgar squatted and collected the bowl with two hands before kneeling and presenting it to Alistair. "I'm sorry, my love.
I should have let you drink first," he spoke, sorrowful. If Alistair accepted his offering and drank, Fridgar would stand and hug him as he finished the crimson life force, pressing his bloody, messy skin into Alistair, who had been mostly clean.

The Lothar really didn't seem to think anything was wrong with what he was doing. It was as though he wasn't even aware that he was covered in animal blood. Regardless, he'd recovered almost completely from his blood rage, though, he was tired. Very tired. He even fell asleep for three trills on his mate's shoulder, sinking all his weight into the poor human before catching himself with a sudden jolt. "Ah!" The Lothar cried, startled by his sudden black out, only to awake while falling onto Alistair.

"My darling, will you-" Fridgar started, only for his attention to be caught by the unexplained blue glow, deeper in the cave. Without saying another word, Fridgar stood and broke free of his beloved's embrace, walking toward the glow. There he saw the Sohr Khal eggs with... A blue glowing mushroom. There were loads of glowing mushrooms in a variety of colours, all leading through the cavern and lighting the way. A stream of clear, cool water cut the path, dropping off into an abyss just meters from where he stood. The darkness to his right was seemingly endless, he couldn't see the other side and couldn't hear the water colliding with the floor below.

Deciding not to dwell on the abyss, Fridgar knelt beside one of the Sohr Khal eggs. If they were fertile, they would die up here alone. Saddened, Fridgar put his palm on one of the eggs and felt gently. There was no movement, the egg was just a protein bank. Feeling another showed the same result. But the third was the charm, almost as soon as his warm palm met the shell of the egg, something stirred and struck the shell from the inside, jolting it. Fridgar's eyes widened, surprised. Instead of yelling with excitement, Fridgar calmly removed his fur pelt and wrapped the egg in a warm make-shift sling. He then picked it up and returned to his beloved.

"Alistair, I found some Sohr Khal eggs and I think one of them is alive!" he whispered a shout, as though the egg could hear him. "I'm gonna take it to Covah tomorrow, maybe he can help me raise it!" he whispered again before looking to Alistair with concern. "How are you feeling, my love? Any better?"

[Alistair]

Fridgar returned to the mortal world at last, noticing his lover's arms around his abdomen and calming from his embrace. The man apologized for not allowing him the first drink, and spoke to him of the changes. The symptoms had begun to decline, and he could see things better, faster. His mind had been stimulated by the mutagen, a very interesting change to present. Alistair had begun to wonder the validity of pursuing his own Alchemical studies, if the alchemic products were capable of such vast and unprecedented qualities.

Either way, all was fine, and Alistair wasn't upset with Fridgar for taking the first sip. He was... in the zone, and the mage needed some mental preparation to consume a recently felled animal's blood anyhow. He bit his lip and sighed, still not wholly ready for the drink, especially considering he was going to be consuming it with a chalice made of a dead Feldorei's skull. The mage stilled himself and forced a chug down, gulping the red liquid down his throat, coughing frantically for a moment as he wiped his lips and breathed out. It tasted... interesting. Not good, not bad, just different.

"Fridgar, that was odd," he pointed out. "I never imagined blood to be so easy to drink. But I suppose we drink it with steaks and things like that..." the mage thought, scratching his cheek. Still, it was odd. He could feel a change stirring within him, and suddenly his body began to feel light, tired. But relaxed. There wasn't such fragility, pain, irritation - at least not to the same degree. And Fridgar was right, he felt faster. It was almost disorienting, the difference in his perceptions. While he wasn't sure the full extent of this reflexive change, it was noticeable, and while he fixated on it the world began to grow dizzy. This would take some time to get used to.

As the mage's vision wavered however, and dizziness consumed him, Fridgar grabbed him into an embrace and slathered his bloodied chest against Alistair. The mage didn't seem to mind, smiling lightly and wrapping his arms around his husband's waist. The man made him feel better, especially as tiredness began to prevail in him. He wanted to sleep on Fridgar, and had a difficult time not expressing that to his mate.

As they relaxed for a short while, the mage thought about his future in the Jegers, and whether or not he wanted to pursue becoming a Dire. Would every mutagenaic alteration have this effect on him? He grimaced at the thought.

Fridgar then began to ask him a question, before seemingly growing distracted by something... some light in the cave, one Alistair had noticed earlier. The man pursued the light and went inward, catching sight of the eggs Alistair glanced at previously, feeling them up and noticing the potentially living nature of one of the large white-red shapes. Alistair wasn't wholly interested in having any more pets, but he supposed the House of Buggery was destined to become a zoo at this rate.

"Covah?" he questioned. "That's a good idea, actually. I'll need to see if he can look at Keanu and Kiara," the mage stated, nodding. He had so many pets now... and he'd overwhelmed Kleine with raising them. The young man had really become Fridgar and Alistair's all-around nanny.

"I'm feeling better, my love... but tired. I want to sleep. Can we go to bed, dear? I'd really like it if we could," the mage stated, nodding as his lips curled down, the exhaustion taking control of his features.