What a long trip. (@bahmGe) Einherjar wasn't one to be sitting still within the amount of time allotted. If it weren't for the fact the crew was made only that of Url, a fight would have broken and someone would not have returned home the same being. In fact, given the creator's vile opposition to other's existence, they likely would not return at all. Yet, there was something different within his amber gaze that always held its burning passion within Ein; Ambition. The waves rocked the boat as Quin approached with a hefty limp while he kept a minor fatigue, though he as well did not let his warm breath attempt to break the cold atmosphere with his words. Both of these specific Url carried decent wounds, both of which an ear with missing flesh. It was ironic that despite the fact their philosophy was an 'eye for an eye' that caused such a violent fight earlier it was also that of self-sacrifice. The last of the noble Url's bank was allotted for this very trip, and in turn the mask that adorned the face of the bush-Url was given to the fallen noble. Quin sat beside Einar as his thumbs remained on the inside of the skull-mask, a low sigh escaping himself visibly as the air about them flashed clouds of condensation to prove it was there. What words were there to share? There remained an inner conflict for Quin. At the same token, Einar to Quin. This Url was so happily managing his way to Jorrhildr, giving up what he had and at the same time, besting him in a fight of hand-to-hand combat. Perhaps it was proper salvation? The shaman beside himself from being easy to read, was incredibly potent at denying outside minds of Ailor ideals. For such, Quin began to fail to understand this advancement to such a degree. Perhaps it was for the better for him. Perhaps it would be good.. For Quin? His head shook violently. Einar's hand outstretched to take the mask he gifted to the other with a grumble, the bone-structure of it rattling and clicking in that moment as he muttered words in a harsh language that carried vowels that could tire the average tongue. "As they fall to their falsehoods, may they rise from their wrongdoings through blood and time." A few Url on the deck murmured, others barked in response as they denied their post to stick to that of the empire's ideals as they got so close to the island to deny an itch that was ruining them. They were put in line by their own merely for the fact that they could return to Jorrhildr from the city that poisoned them, they all agreed within this ship that this was an Url's mission; Not a shill to a lesser being. It was the discovering of one's identity. KKRRRRR... THUNK! The plank hit the land. Some rushed off towards the snow as the radical Baal-Url would rip to their clothing or tear their gear from their bodies to rid themselves of the disgusting ideals while some, hesitated. The hesitating would be greeted by the same; A hesitation before equally the goods of the empire were stripped from them while their alien tongue tumbled and thundered through the snow's flurries that began to fall, calling and testing them to their ranks. Among those that had no hesitation, Einar found his way among these people that wanted them from the ship. Touching, slapping, gripping upon his body was brought while his trophies of new fauna littered his body. They left all of the bones upon his figure, yet stripped all of the cloth he was given from Regalia that didn't come from a killed being. His head turned, meeting that of Quin's own gaze. Quin's own focus traveled, looking to the lands of which would likely accept him before he gave a nod back to the amber gaze that was locked to his own. Einar was let entirely go, the burning flame in his vision now to burn his own bridges by his own accord in Jorrhildr's biting winds. The ship's plank which let them off, equally it made its way off. Whoever the captain was, he seemed limited in allowance of who was to go. Perhaps to deny temptation, but by now this didn't matter. All that was known was for a place that seemed to be biting cold to all other beings... It seemed to carry such a warm embrace. Einar welcomed it so closely. Spoiler: Why is this made? @bahmGe is going to da military. This is a proper send-off until he comes back, with his permission. Everyone fortnite dance for the bush-Url.
Every muscle in the Url was slouched, no doubt even his heart was beating slowly in a slack. For while he had set his eyes dead ahead onto the vast expanse of the seas, he was mesmerised by the way the sultry weather had transitioned to a melancholic cold. For what was the gnawing frigidness that encapsulated the collective Url, the ones on-board could very much agree it felt... just right. For what were their bodies, forged from eras of biological turmoil in the cold, if not built for this? They, or at least Einar in specific, felt like they were returning to the homeland. To where it all started. For the wood-rot hulls that smashed itself against the rubescent vicinity, the familiarity of Rauður Coast's scenery greeted him: copper-coloured waterfalls were uproarious as they came crashing down from the high cliffs, the vermillion landscape being dotted with a loose conglomeration of Url that seemed to approach the ship. It had only been three years since his departure from Jorrhildr - and certainly, there were new faces and kindred folk - but he found the same acquaintances here once more. It was here that the long-desired Nature Hunt could be sought after, much unlike the stagnancy he felt back in the concrete jungle that was Regalia. Archaic hums of a cold tale were loosed, for a hearkening that would be lost to the howling winds — such was not strung in the coherent words of Ailor language, but something more visceral in nature and alien. "Ͳհìʂ ʂքìɾҽ çօղէąìղʂ, Ͳհҽ ʂէɾąղցҽʂէ օƒ էհìղցʂ, Ⱥ ʂէօղҽ, ą հօӀҽ ҍօɾҽժ ìղ ìէʂ çօɾҽ. Ƒɾօʍ էհìʂ քìէ, էհìʂ ҽղժӀҽʂʂ çąѵҽɾղ, చąէҽɾʂ էհąէ ʂհìղҽ ìղ էհҽ ʂմղ. į ɾąìʂҽ ʍվ հąղժʂ, Ͳօ ցɾąʂք էհìʂ çմɾҽ."
{Since this is a Role-play post :) } Far off from the Frozen waste, a Url dressed in Kiltach and adorned with bone forged trophies of many hunts stood beside several Url. Dearth Brothers turned for love of Basjur and of Strength. The Gallovian wind whirled across the trees as the sea lapped against the cliff. “I have heard word one of our own has found his freedom,” called the newely Urlizied Courier. James swiftly took the note from the mans’s grasp reading its contents. A torn smile tugged at his face. “Einar has gone to Jorrhildor,” he laughed with a strained tear tugging at his eye, “I never did get to tell that...mmm annoying old /friend/ just how right he was.” He took a step out to the Edge of the Cliff overlooking the sea. “Just how right those words he spoke at my outcasting became....just how right his words in the garden rang. Einar my brother, I now walk upon my own strength. The Gods have become mine no longer am I another mans Priest. No longer do I crave to be what I was! I am URL!! GLORY TO EINAR A BROTHER SET FREE!!!” He roared out to the Waves, a few of his Urilized dearth brothers joining him. As the Dearth Ailor and Url, Unionist and Worshipper of Older ways, and Blood Treji and Kin Bond joined in the Pride of a Url freed.
