Laira Darkhold
Well-Known Member
Wayland
House Vizsla, or at least those still loyal to the long time Alor gathered at the home to see the warriors who were lost at the Palace off to the Manda. Pyres for the bodies that had been recovered were prepared and bodies lay upon wood and stones. For those that could not be returned, helmets with T-Visors sat on stakes with the names or heraldry of those warriors.
Somber warriors and children stood around the funeral proceedings, tears staining the ground as wind stirred around the vale it was held in. Rows of men and women waiting to hear what their chieftain would do about these transgressions. It was all a very formal way to declare the obvious.
The Alor was expected to make a short speech at the ceremony and commit their bodies to the fire and their souls to the Manda in a few moments, and Kode sat in the far back waiting to see off his grandfather.
Kode was the son of Kahde, grandson of Rach Vizla and the only known descendent of the old fang. The Old man had been alone his whole life, never finding love beyond a few women in his early twenties that was nothing more than flings, with only one bearing him a son. Kahde died years ago on Junction leaving Kode with just the spiteful old bastard for company. Kode hated the old man, they'd always hated each other. But he was still family.
The spirits whispered to him quietly, paying their quiet respects for the loss and the louder ones suppressed by his presence while the young man watched. Fire danced in his eyes as the torches were lowered into the pyres and the Alor took to the rocks to speak.
[member="Ronan Vizsla"]