Alistair was fairing… Well, he was fairing, but he wasn’t fairing as well as he wanted to believe.<br/><br/>Though victory has been achieved and Soluunar was peaceful for another day, it just… Honestly it really didn’t feel like anything had been accomplished. It was the same as it had always been. The armies lived to see another day, with the threat of another attack lingering above them always. The gods had been on his side then, but the truth was next time he might not be as lucky.<br/><br/>Alistair still mourned those that were lost. While he was recovering, he had hoped to see them come into the tent as well.  But the only person who made it was missing a leg and had his shoulder badly torn. He did not make it through the night. The poor man had bled out; he had already lost a lot of blood by the time they’d brought him in. No longer would Alistair get together with his dear friends and share combat stories.<br/><br/>He had wept that night. His confidence had shattered when he realized he didn’t have anyone else to share his great tale with.<br/><br/>“Oh well,” he grunted, speaking to nobody in particular as he threw back his drink. He looked over his shoulder to the wolf that the gods had blessed him with, “Hey, mutt, go get me some more…” His words slurred, and then fell apart completely. After a brief silence, he managed to utter a curt, “Nevermind.” He then waved his hand as if to shoo a fly away, muttering, “It doesn’t really matter anyway, does it?”<br/><br/>Sighing heavily, he tried to stand but found his legs unresponsive. “Oh well,” he repeated. “It’s not like I have anything better to do right now anyway, so I might as well enjoy myself.” He chuckled, taking another swig of his drink, “After all, I’m blessed.”<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>“More like a hot mess of shit than blessed,” Weylyn said as he entered the tent of the man his wolf had taken a liking to. “My wolves fetch for no man and you should count yourself lucky that he even bothered to come to your aid,” helmet and armor gone for the most part. Unable to stand wearing the stuff after he…missed and carried the fallen archer back home to her people. Her blood stained the armor and it felt like she was there with him. Watching him, judging him and his failure. Elder God of the Hunt, felt more like a failure and a disappointment. Even as the villain who was the true cause of her demise was punished and burnt alive for his crimes, Weylyn’s heart and soul wept for the loss of one so great.<br/><br/>Now, he sought the company of his wolves and was distressed to find the Alpha still missing. “Now, what has you all distraught? Can’t handle war?”<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>“Ah, so this wolf was a blessing from the Gods then,” Alistair said, glancing from the wolf and to Weylyn. “It’s an honor to be in your company.” He completely ignored the jab about not being able to handle war. Perhaps the answer to that didn’t need to be spoken.<br/><br/>His father had told him stories about the God of the Hunt and his wolves. But not once did he even think that the wolf that had pulled him from the trench belonged to him. Looking back now, he supposed it made sense. Who else had wolves as big and majestic? If anything, this was an ego boost (one that Alistair certainly did not need).<br/><br/>In his mind, his stories held some truth now.<br/><br/>“So, what brings you here? Are you taking your wolf back?” He inquired.<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>"I would but he seems to think you have some merit in your black soul and yellow spine," slowly and steadily he leaned down as if he were examining a bug he peered at the mortal. "Tell me. What do you fight for?"<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>Alistair frowned, definitely feeling pretty small right now, his earlier thoughts seemingly pushed aside, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He straightened himself a little, giving the God his undivided attention, “I fight for Soluunar, of course. For peace between Lebidan and Linden, and to put an end to the Tutari once and for all. Hell, when I pick up a weapon I only have Soluunar’s… no… mankind’s interest at heart. This is our home, and we need to fight for it…” He paused, the corner of his mouth forming a grin. “When this is over, my name will be known.”<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>The God of the Hunt smirked, "Then you fight for yourself.." He made as if to stand the leathers of his armor creaked in protest at the movement though he paid it no heed. "A man who only fights for himself is doomed to fail," back to the man he looked out over the expanse of the land and sighed. "To truly fight for others and be noble you must feel it. Know it and die for it. Not cower in a pit of filth until my wolf could save you!" the last words sharp with venom as he turned and glared down. His eyes alite with power there was the thought to kill him. To spare everyone the embarrassment he would surely bring.<br/><br/>A soft whimper from his wolf stalled further actions as the two conversed on a level beyond human comprehension. "Very well," he said to the wolf before he addressed the man again. "He speaks of an inner courage I feel you're lacking. But he wishes for you to have a chance. So, under his guidance I expect you to be a better man. Or so help me I will summon the wolves from the heavens and hold you down while they peel the skin from your flesh with their fangs!" Threat very clear in his words as he leaned back down once more. "Understand?"<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>Something heavy dropped into Alistair’s stomach. He shrank back a bit, feeling sick at the thought of having wolves eating him.<br/><br/>He mustered a slow nod, “Sure, whatever you say.” His tone was meek, a far cry from the confidence he had been flaunting. His vision of being recognized by the Gods… He had not expected an encounter like this at all. He wanted praise, not criticism, not threats. But still, even if it was not exactly how he had imagined, he had still been noticed regardless.<br/><br/>Then, he added, “Perhaps what you think I did during that battle was cowardly, but I would have gotten out had I not been buried under those corpses.” His words seemed to have a mind of their own, “Those monsters… the size of them… Everything would have been fine if it was just the Tutar…”<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>"Oh is that all? Well I would be more than happy to let you show me just how tough and brave you are," a predatory smirk graced the lips of the God of Hunt. Much like a cat would when it knew the mouse was beat. "Shall we go hunting? Sneak out of camp and catch some Tutar? Have you show me your prowess? Your bravery?"<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>“Oh, I’ll take on your little challenge,” Alistair rose, drawing himself up to his full height. “In fact, maybe I’ll even bring the Tutar Chief’s head back to Prince Barth!”<br/><br/>That was pushing it, even he was not that stupid. But right now he feared the God more than what the Tutar might do to him.<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>"Brave fools are still fools," he said coldly. "Remember this and know that I will be watching you." With that he turned and left the pathetic man with his wolf and hoped he would not have to summon the wolves from heaven. Falcor was a member of his family and he would rather that welp prove him wrong.<br/><br/>--------------------------<br/><br/>Alistair slowly sat back down as the God left him. He was shaking a little bit, his breathing heavy. If looks could kill, he would have been dead right then and there, wolves or no wolves.<br/><br/>He looked to the wolf that continued to stay by him even now. “Well… beggars can’t be choosers,” he said. “I wanted recognition… and… and I certainly got it, didn’t I?” He chuckled. It wasn’t funny but deep down he hoped that he could look back at this and laugh.<br/><br/>In time, he would be recognized. Him. He was a hero, blessed by the Gods, not some coward. He had escaped death once and would very well do it again.<br/><br/>"For Soluunar..."