K'yohko stood on the edge of camp, ears twitching with every small sound that he could hear around him. The wind whispered a soft song that fluttered across his ears. The sand sung in a low crackling voice. The sun over head beamed down in a loud aria that warmed his dark skin and dark purple hair. And the only active nunh of the Hipparon Tribe stood in the center of nature's symphony. He could hear the sounds of the wurms and the drakes far off in the Sagolii. He could feel the tremors of their movement miles away. He could smell the fire burning, thick with the blood of the innocent and the pungent smell of the tempered. Or perhaps he could not actually do any of that, and it was all merely a hunch from an aging man who thought he could commune with nature.
The light but hot metal of a steel sword hung at his hip, and the burning hot same metal of the shield on his back did not trouble K'yohko Nunh. It faintly touched his memories of a time when fire rained down death, and a man whom had had respected turned to ash. A time when the fire and ash poisoned his family and himself.
K'yohko opened his eyes, burning violet eyes surging with a hidden passion behind a rocky exterior. He lifted a hand and examined it. It was crackled and scarred with fights past, but if he looked close enough, K'yohko thought he might see a poison that was running through his veins.
His ears twitched with the rustling sounds of activity in the camp. New activity. Once more his eyes closed and he listened, the faintest wind carrying the news in quiet whispers. And only a word came to him as he listened and attempted to discern the news. K'ailia.
His lips turned to a thin displeased look, but he did not move from his spot of meditation.
The light but hot metal of a steel sword hung at his hip, and the burning hot same metal of the shield on his back did not trouble K'yohko Nunh. It faintly touched his memories of a time when fire rained down death, and a man whom had had respected turned to ash. A time when the fire and ash poisoned his family and himself.
K'yohko opened his eyes, burning violet eyes surging with a hidden passion behind a rocky exterior. He lifted a hand and examined it. It was crackled and scarred with fights past, but if he looked close enough, K'yohko thought he might see a poison that was running through his veins.
His ears twitched with the rustling sounds of activity in the camp. New activity. Once more his eyes closed and he listened, the faintest wind carrying the news in quiet whispers. And only a word came to him as he listened and attempted to discern the news. K'ailia.
His lips turned to a thin displeased look, but he did not move from his spot of meditation.
![[Image: urVhoNf.png]](http://i.imgur.com/urVhoNf.png)
