Verbosk had been encamped at Mount Yasuo. It was probably clear by now to his target that the Watch HQ had not been attacked yet. It was all just as well--Verbosk had a viable excuse. Wanted to wait for the Watch to be distracted before he made his move. One could always use smart strategy as a cover for his true motives.
This time, though, there would be no cowering. No deceit. Just the raw, savage power of War. This time, the draconian will follow his instincts. He will drive a talon straight through the heart of the evil man who had killed his friends and partners, enslaved his warder, and threatened the one thing that he cared for more than anything else: His newborn hatchlings.
This time, it is personal.
Verbosk was adorned in such a way to prove that he was out for blood. On his back, mounted in a tight sheath that was strapped to his body by reeds from the Southern Glen, stretching across his as-usual bare chest, was a primitive spear, custom-built for his own hands, the point carved out of obsidian and held to the staff by sinew of a strong, young buck. Dangling at his side, a slingshot, held in a device much like a gun holster. On the other side, a pouch, made of the stomach of the same buck, filled with small rocks and pebbles.
Additional markings had joined the ones that marked him as Hlask to the Lupinossai Den Alpha. Next to the tattoo of the Wolf Clan imprinted on his right breast, there was a pair of crossed spears, blood dripping from the end of each. Tribal markings, mainly lines and spirals, adorned his face and the whole of his body. Yes, they did make him look fierce--that was just the point. When the time would come, Verbosk hoped that the plan would work, and his face, bloodied or not, would be the last face that Travanix would ever see.
The only challenge that stemmed from his change of location was the men. Verbosk had two hundred warriors at his disposal, but not only were they improperly equipped to battle on the technophobic Mount Yasuo, the captains were instantly suspicious. It took quite the handful of bribes and promises of power and new status, and the occassional smackdown or two, to get Verbosk to claim their loyalty. Being a Watch officer helped sometimes.
But the basic infantry had no weapons, as they were armed primarily with rifles that wouldn't work on the Mount. It took quite a bit of work to solve that little pickle, but after a long all-nighter, Verbosk had managed to craft clubs, slings, and, courtesy of the Master of the Chainned Inn, stole a couple of katanas from the armory that he proferred, gratefully, to the officers and some of the more skilled frontline soldiers. It was a ragtag group, and Verbosk was sure they would suffer numerous casualties. But, a good warrior fights the good fight, whether it be win or loss. If anybody, Verbosk would remain standing until he was cleaved into a thousand pieces.
This time, war will come.
This time, there will be battle.
And for Verbosk, he wouldn't want it any other way...
