second rune; death; video

[deadelfwalking]

 [When the feed starts, the netbook's camera shows you a view of the forest floor.  A deer carcass lies among the grass and twigs, and it's obvious that the poor thing did not have a clean death.  It's in the advanced stages of decomposition, even though the blood around its body is red and fresh.  The camera does not linger on this image for more than a few seconds; it pans upward, to show Koltira's face.

 He's standing over the deer, holding the device in one hand, holding Byfrost with the other.  Agony creases his expression: his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his pale, sallow face is taut with pain.  The guttural growl of his voice occasionally rises in octave as he talks, as though something is beating the shit out of him from the inside.]

Were we brought here to fight for something, or to waste time reliving the past?  Send.  Us.  On.  A mission.

[He stabs the tree next to him with Byfrost, and the sword glows sickly green; the tree bark begins to decay rapidly, as though it's practically melting.  Diseased fumes pour out of the bark, forming a nasty miasma around Koltira's body.]

I need a battle. [he hisses, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek.]  Now.

Comments

[sacrificar]

[Now there's a loaded word for her.]

You think me a comrade?

[deadelfwalking]

... a possible one, yes. We are meant to fight together against these mysterious enemies, I assume.

[sacrificar]

Fighting did not seem as much of a priority, up until recently.

[deadelfwalking]

[groans in a mix of exasperation and pain.] Yes; that's abundantly clear to me now. [and a big, big problem.]

[sacrificar]

What will you do, Deathweaver?

[deadelfwalking]

What I have always done. Struggle through it.

[sacrificar]

My previous offer remains, regardless if it's never taken.

[deadelfwalking]

Understood.