He thankfully managed to escape the altercation unscathed, and though Kasrjin frowned at the scratches and tears on his armour and tabard, those damages were more or less inconsequential. The Xaela had been placed under a barrage of back-patting and comments of praise since they returned to the Convictory, and he felt that he could do little but force a slight grin and nod whenever one of the knights let forth a rousing cheer. The altercation was over, and the adrenaline had drained itself away from his veins, allowing him the first moments of clarity since the intuition of combat first took over his actions.
With some effort, he managed to pull himself away from the festivities and the clamouring grasps of the knights. The Xaela stepped away from the bulk of the celebrations that were taking place around the bonfire. Staff-wielding chirurgeons had assembled to the side of the camp, attending to the needs of the wounded, and though the weather had been cloudy prior to the battle, rebellious lances of golden sunlight managed to pierce their way through the canopy, as if the skies themselves were rejoicing over their victory. Kasrjin blinked as he glanced upwards to the clear spots of shimmering blue that the parting clouds revealed.
The clamour of the knights had evaporated into little more than an irritating ringing against his horns, and he breathed slowly, as if to release the tension still stored in his body. He withdrew the greatsword and was rather pleased to know that the blued hue of the blade bore no damage whatsoever. A small grin crested his face. The Erdegai had been right to complain about making a single weapon out of meteor steel; it was a lovely material indeed.
That flashing thought of home dissipated itself quickly as he returned the blade to its harness upon his back.
The ghosts of isolation had been chased away for a time, in this altercation. Kasrjin made a mental note to inquire as to the construction of the dragon trap. It was an ingenious mechanism of wires and flexible lumber that greatly limited the beast's mobility, and Vaillancourt's fighting style...dragoons were remarkable. The Au Ra briefly wondered if such techniques could be employed by others. He imagined an entire warband of Khadai leaping skyward and descending from the clouds upon the black ones. Certainly some of the younger warriors would be thrilled to have such a tactic at their disposal.
"Next time," he muttered to himself. Vaillancourt was being praised as the hero of the hour, and as the one who dealt the killing blow, such acclaim should not be diverted. Kasrjin would ask his questions at another time. Kasrjin swung his head left and right, though it appeared that he'd lost Roen in the hubbub of the knights' celebration. His brow briefly furrowed in consternation but almost immediately relaxed. He had nothing to be concerned about. She knew her way easily enough. It seemed forever ago when they had been trapped by the blizzard.
It was impossible to say how long his endeavour would take. The battle was a refreshing moment of ease, a circumstance in which he was called upon to perform his role. His memory flitted back to the knights patting his back and remarking upon witnessing his combat. Would it be possible for him to acclimate properly to these environments? The more he thought about it, the less certain he was. Kasrjin reached into his tabard to touch the carved runestone, as if the gesture would recall the pulse that had struck him during the blizzard.
His heart sank, and the Au Ra clasped the rune stone tightly.
The dragon hunt was exhilarating, but it was ultimately little more than a distraction. He was sure that his brothers who had been sent to the far corners of the world felt as he did in their missions as well...but he could not lose sight of why he was sent here.
The Xaela glanced at the towering spires of Ishgard, only now made visible amidst the inclement weather that had battered the area before. One step crunched in the snow away from the Convictory. Then another.
He would need to learn more of this land, but he did not need to understand it.
This was but a distraction.
With some effort, he managed to pull himself away from the festivities and the clamouring grasps of the knights. The Xaela stepped away from the bulk of the celebrations that were taking place around the bonfire. Staff-wielding chirurgeons had assembled to the side of the camp, attending to the needs of the wounded, and though the weather had been cloudy prior to the battle, rebellious lances of golden sunlight managed to pierce their way through the canopy, as if the skies themselves were rejoicing over their victory. Kasrjin blinked as he glanced upwards to the clear spots of shimmering blue that the parting clouds revealed.
The clamour of the knights had evaporated into little more than an irritating ringing against his horns, and he breathed slowly, as if to release the tension still stored in his body. He withdrew the greatsword and was rather pleased to know that the blued hue of the blade bore no damage whatsoever. A small grin crested his face. The Erdegai had been right to complain about making a single weapon out of meteor steel; it was a lovely material indeed.
That flashing thought of home dissipated itself quickly as he returned the blade to its harness upon his back.
The ghosts of isolation had been chased away for a time, in this altercation. Kasrjin made a mental note to inquire as to the construction of the dragon trap. It was an ingenious mechanism of wires and flexible lumber that greatly limited the beast's mobility, and Vaillancourt's fighting style...dragoons were remarkable. The Au Ra briefly wondered if such techniques could be employed by others. He imagined an entire warband of Khadai leaping skyward and descending from the clouds upon the black ones. Certainly some of the younger warriors would be thrilled to have such a tactic at their disposal.
"Next time," he muttered to himself. Vaillancourt was being praised as the hero of the hour, and as the one who dealt the killing blow, such acclaim should not be diverted. Kasrjin would ask his questions at another time. Kasrjin swung his head left and right, though it appeared that he'd lost Roen in the hubbub of the knights' celebration. His brow briefly furrowed in consternation but almost immediately relaxed. He had nothing to be concerned about. She knew her way easily enough. It seemed forever ago when they had been trapped by the blizzard.
It was impossible to say how long his endeavour would take. The battle was a refreshing moment of ease, a circumstance in which he was called upon to perform his role. His memory flitted back to the knights patting his back and remarking upon witnessing his combat. Would it be possible for him to acclimate properly to these environments? The more he thought about it, the less certain he was. Kasrjin reached into his tabard to touch the carved runestone, as if the gesture would recall the pulse that had struck him during the blizzard.
His heart sank, and the Au Ra clasped the rune stone tightly.
The dragon hunt was exhilarating, but it was ultimately little more than a distraction. He was sure that his brothers who had been sent to the far corners of the world felt as he did in their missions as well...but he could not lose sight of why he was sent here.
The Xaela glanced at the towering spires of Ishgard, only now made visible amidst the inclement weather that had battered the area before. One step crunched in the snow away from the Convictory. Then another.
He would need to learn more of this land, but he did not need to understand it.
This was but a distraction.