“Interesting.” Gerald observed the ritual curiously. It had gone off without much in the way of a hitch, but the result has been something beyond expectation. “Very interesting.”

“What the hell is that?” Tyr asked. “That's not a raptid. It almost looks like... A kobold?” And it did. It looked a bit like Luk, only much smaller and four legged rather than bipedal. With a feathered fringe of scarlet barbs around it's neck. A deep turquoise color to it's scaled body. It was certainly a lizard, but it was not a raptid. Truthfully, they all kind of looked the same, they all had feathers and flat tips to their snouts, probably related... Biologically... Uh... Good god I am so hungry right now.

“A terrormaw.” Gerald replied. “All saurian creatures are said to be the cousins or lesser spawn of dragons. More accurately, it's assumed that wyverns gave rise to the legend. Everyone knows dragons don't exist, but all saurian species are still likely related. I'm not sure why, but you've summoned a terrormaw rather than a raptid. Not unheard of to get a related species from a calling ritual, but it is fairly rare. Especially in the case of a wyrmkin.”

“Terrormaw?” Tyr was skeptical. “I've fought terrormaw before, and they didn't have a mane like that.”

“You fought females, then. Terrormaw prides operate similar to lions. One male to every eight or so females. Females do not always have such vibrant fringes, but males do. Evolution dedicated to the attraction of a mate, peacocking they call it. And as intriguing as it is, I am not a zoologist.”

“Um...” Jura remained as still as possible. The puppy sized lizard happily scrabbling up her clothing and making something of a roost at the top of her head. “Sorry to interrupt, but what do I do?”

“What do you do?” Gerald asked. “Nothing. You've successfully summoned a beast familiar. Granted, it's a real, biological whelp. It'll view you as it's mother, so you'll need to feed it unlike your typical familiar which lives solely off mana. This is good though, far preferable. Familiars are easier to handle, but from what I've been told – summoning a real magical beast will lead to far greater gains in the long run.”

“Is it dangerous...” Tyr squinted at the creature. It was very small, 'puppy sized' was appropriate, but it was still a terrormaw. He had, as he'd said, fought them. There was a reason for their name...

“You are contracted with a wolf bigger than a horse.” Daito laughed. “What do you mean, is it dangerous? It's a magical beast, treat it well and it'll be a valuable partner. They aren't mindless animals.”

“Ah... I guess that makes sense.” Tyr nodded, he was indeed bound to a giant wolf, wherever said wolf was. Somewhere to the northeast by the sensation he got. “Thanks Gerald. And you too, Daito. Not that you did much.” Daito nodded without any concern over Tyr's blunt observation, and Gerald did too. Not arguing his lack of decorum. Just interested in observing. Or facilitating, in Gerald's case. “I think we'll take it from here. That's it, right?”

“The anchor was set, ritual finished. Not much more to do.” Gerald replied, shrugging and leaving. Walking beside Daito as they spoke like old friends. Perhaps they were.

Tyr and Jura stood there for a long while in silence before she got a handle on the situation, and the terrormaw. Of all beasts, Tyr had chosen a raptid for their intelligence. They were fairly common monsters and grew to the size of a mountable creature. Terrormaw did, too, technically, but he wasn't so sure about their other behaviors. He'd certainly never seen anyone riding one...

“You've done good by us. Done a lot for us. I suppose all you'll allow me to do is thank you.” Jura said softly. His gifts just didn't stop, he was incorrigible and it was an endless source of headaches for her.

“I say this a lot, you know. But in Haran...” Tyr sighed. He really did say that a lot. “We have a saying. I guess. Pay it forward. To repay a kindness is oath. Unspoken, but required. You have shown me kindness, and this is a repaying of it. I require no thanks. This is simply the duty nailed into me by the customs of my forefathers.”

“You make it sound so simple. There is honor and difficulty alike in keeping to the customs of our forefathers. We orcs have a near identical saying, just less altruistic. An eye for an eye type of thing.” Jura said. “You could own me, in terms of our culture. I would be indebted to you for decades and I would not argue against it.”

“Perhaps I could.” Tyr smiled. “Perhaps I am entranced by your moss colored beauty and I can't wait for the day when you finally allow me to rut.”

“You're an idiot.”

“Yeah... Well... Do you miss your people?” Tyr asked. Unexpectedly, she shook her head in the negative. Looking out over the rolling fields and mountains in the distance while the newly hatched terrormaw fell fast asleep. Saurian because it was warm blooded, not cold blooded like a reptile. While it may be a distant relation of raptids, neither were actually 'lizards'. Pointless exposition on behalf of Gerald who corrected the misnomer.

“My tribe were renegades. As in they didn't obey the laws of the republic and would leave the reservation lands, even crossing beyond the free territory beyond. Which is illegal. Technically, but they'd been doing it for years. Old, tribal, and staunch traditionalists. They weren't bad, but my status as a half orc wasn't so good in their minds. I was not abused, but I was also not exactly loved. I miss the chief, and my parents. That is all. I had no friends or companions, growing up mostly segregated. Educated by my parents instead of by the wider clan as is our usual custom. At times, I was treated better by the slavers than my own extended family. I'd assume it was for reasons concerning the flesh, but it's all the same. None had any of mine, whatever the case may be.”

“Ah.” Tyr frowned. “I'm sorry.”

All she did was shrug. “It is how things are. To regret being half-orc is to spit on the graves of my parents who loved one another, and myself, very much. It irks me at times that there is no place in which I truly belong. I have no home. But it made me strong, and that is good.”

Arms crossed, Tyr joined her as the sun began to set over the mountains in the horizon. Bathing the sky in every hue of gold and purple. The dark, sharp ridges of that monolithic stretch of terrain appearing majestic rather than gloomy and threatening. Just for a moment. Wolves could be heard off in the distance, calling out to all members of their pack. It was a mild autumn, all considered, and the snows had yet to fall even so late into the year. Cool enough to make their breath mist. He could feel Jura inching closer to him. Almost unconscious of the action, but it didn't seem so unnatural.

“Neither of us have a home. Or a family. Not a true one, at least.” Tyr could feel the waves of heat coming from the surface of her skin. Plenty of it revealed despite the climes, radiating warmth in every direction. She was so warm, always there watching him as he worked and despite her criticisms about his 'priorities' seemed genuinely interested in... How he was. “But we can make one, I think. Together.”

The idea of home was so indistinct to him. 'Home'. What a concept that was so ambiguous. He'd never felt truly at home in Haran, but it was the only place he'd really known. Amistad had been a nice trip on his journey, but he did not miss it. Once the mantle of duty was stripped from his shoulders, he'd realized that it hadn't been such a burden after all. It was a template by which to live his life and there was comfort in knowing what his future held. He had been lost, then, losing that security. And still was, only enjoying his free fall as best he could. Looking for something else. Some new purpose to define his life. Perhaps this was what it felt like to grow old, to look back and see nothing but ashes. But from a burning could bloom new life. Tyr swore to himself that he'd take advantage of his new lot and squeeze it for everything it was worth. Of all things, large and small, for himself.

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“Full of little quarter-orcs after I take what is rightfully mine.” She mumbled, completely oblivious to how such words might make another feel. Sometimes she would blush at a thing, but Tyr was absolutely certain that she was dead in her seriousness just now. “We will breed a host of powerful warriors, you and I.”

“You really have a talent for ruining otherwise touching moments.” He shook his head in exasperation before they both crossed through the gate. Arms interlinked and content just to stand there, together.

–

“That's crazy.” Benny huffed. “I might seem like a great wise man. Very smart, I know. My brain is very large, but you have to warn me about these things before you go about making plans. I'm only twelve years old and I'm going to be an uncle...”

“W-what...!?” Tyr blurted, choking on his ale. It was swill, honestly. The priests of the flame had taken all the best stuff for 'ritual purposes'. A crock of shit, that was.

“Brother, it hurts that you'd try to hide such a thing from me. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the walls in the guild hall are thin. Both of your women have already been discussing baby names.”

“Who's!?” Tyr groaned, flopping back into his chair and trying to stem the choking. “I've never touched them. Either of them!”

“Brother. Please.” Benny rolled his eyes. “I've seen the orc sneak into your room a dozen times over the last few weeks and not exit until the morning light.”

Tyr frowned, shaking his head. “I've not slept in that bed a single time. When I sleep, which has been maybe twice, it's on the roof of the forge hall. When it rained, I used the foreman's couch. The fire poker he hit me with thinking I was a thief is still there, as proof. I don't know what they're doing, but I don't think they are with child. If they are, it's most certainly not mine!”

“Truly?” Benny asked.

“Truly.” Tyr replied.

Looking a bit disappointed, Benny moved his chair closer to the table to allow two burly and full blooded orcs to lift a rusted cylinder of metal through the bay doors. As always, they were at the forge, taking their meals at the drafting table. The first few times, the halfling foreman had been frustrated, but had eventually warmed up to the idea of Tyr doing whatever he wanted without permission. His work speed was three to five times faster than even his best employee, but only on simple jobs. He knew runes, could repair multiple languages, and best of all – he didn't ask for pay! Or insurance! Even paid for his own meals! For a halfling, an employee like that was the best kind. Allowing a bit of misappropriation of facilities was hardly something to worry about in consideration of that.

Tyr had frowned at his enthusiasm, but it was what it was.

“Which one do you think will be first?” Benny asked.

“How do you mean?” Tyr raised a brow. “First to be laden? By me?” To both questions, Benny nodded. A mysterious look in his eye. A disproportionate about of interested in the topic as well, for a man. “Neither.” He frowned, staring Benny town and tiring of the topic. As for Benny, he leaned back with a depressed huff and pouted for a bit.

“I don't get it. You've not a lick of artistry or smoothness about you. Mind you, I say this not as an insult – but as your friend. Don't think I didn't see those three beauties following you about in Amistad. I could scarcely believe it, but you were a prince then. There'd have to be benefits or nobody would want to take on the burden of leadership. But now, again, you are building a harem and yet you refuse to bag. Are you a boy lover? I have heard this many times from strangers.”

“No.” Tyr replied, before pausing. The conflicted look on his face was enough to give rise to yet another misunderstanding between he and Benny. “I think I love Iscari. I certainly love Tiber, but you wouldn't know him I don't think. Does this make me a homosexual?”

“Homosexual?” Benny looked nauseated. “Who says that? It is not strange to lay with a man in a consensual relationship. Love is love. To dominate another physically healthy male, of any species, is the peak of masculinity. There is quite honestly no more potent a claim of manhood as to say that you've... Well... Okay, anyways. Homosexual, why do you humans constantly label things with strange words...” He sighed, passing Tyr an apologetic look. “You are truly a virgin?”

Tyr shrugged, then nodded. Squinting as he tried to process the flood of bizarre words spouting from Benny's mouth. “I sure am.”

“Twenty years of age and beyond is old for a human, or so I hear. You are a real adult, you'd benefit from getting some... Well... Anyways. Romantic love is different. Lights a fire in your breast that you can't put out. Lust and love together, I think. I'm not expert, I've only lain with two females and one male, but I felt that. Like I was thirsty, and yet could not stop salivating. You know?”

“I don't.” Tyr frowned. “And this is a very uncomfortable conversation. Is this even necessary?”

Tyr was absolutely certain he'd never felt 'hungry' for someone before. Or... Thirsty? They seemed like abstract concepts, at least, but he could somewhat understand. Some kind of great need. A biological one, to copulate and breed like animals did. Therefore, he doubted that he'd ever loved anyone in that way. He could feel attachment, but he couldn't pry the feeling away from a possessiveness that felt too wrong to wholly accept. 'Collecting' people just didn't feel wholesome or right, but that's exactly what he did. Because they'd be useful to him, just like the blackguard.

“What's your ideal woman? Let's just say aesthetically, since you've never been in love.”

“I don't know.” Tyr replied. “I think they are all attractive, appearance wise, but that's obvious.”

“Okay, then what kind of features do you look for in a woman? Just the physical?”

“I like throats.” Tyr replied, blushing. He didn't know why he'd reveal such a deep and dark secret so easily. He wasn't loose with his words, or rather not so eloquent to speak anything but what immediately came to his mind. Poetry required planning, and he was no planner. Too spontaneous and impulsive for that.

“...Throats...?” Benny's mischievous smile froze on his lips, twitching slightly to match the tic in his left eye.

“It's not that weird!” Tyr protested, blushing even harder. His face a mat of near crimson as he shuffled uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. “The neckline. Necks, I'd say, not really throats. The collarbones and necks. I like eyes, too. Bright eyes. Hair... Doesn't matter if it's long or short, but it needs to be thick and preferably wavy. I don't know. Color doesn't matter... Is that good enough?”

Benny pursed his lips before continuing. “Most men would say 'ass' or 'tits'. The age old question. You are extremely strange, brother. You see, I am an ass man myself. I love a nice round ass, no point in approaching anything or anyone without one.”

“I don't like this.” Tyr said. “This is making me very uncomfortable.” But Benny seemed either not to have heard, or unconcerned with obeying. It was still hard to believe that, despite his biology, that an eleven year old knew more than he did about matters of the heart and the flesh.

“For me...” Benny sighed wistfully. “I saw an elf once, just for a moment. Good lords but she had a set of them. I'm talking big, high, and tight. Gods but her whole body was like that. Long legs, full lips, and buxom too. The whole package. Damn near seven feet tall, made me look like a child. Love at first sight, they say. All I could think about was her throwing me around and... That's my dream girl. I hope we meet again, one day.”

“Sorry.” Tyr cleared his throat. Rising suddenly and nearly running out of the room. “I have work to do.”