<strong>Kirrilim the Raven Prince, the prince barely in title if not in reality, fifth in line to the Throne of Feathers</strong>, and probably the first of his name, stalked the stone pathway to the castle ahead of him.<br/><br/>Bearing the strain as he had his own unlikely ascension, full of dark humour and bitterness, the supposed-royal walked by himself, without entourage or attendants, or even a bodyguard.<br/><br/>He had become so used to not needing one anyway.<br/><br/>He had spent so long away from his family, the King, his brother-princes, and the nest of a city he'd left behind, that it was almost strange to behold another castle now.<br/><br/><em>And what a castle. Now THIS is what being royal's supposed to be about.</em><br/><br/>The heady climb was making Kir's heart beat faster and his breath came steadily underneath his wrought iron raven mask. The mane of feathers bobbed with each heavy step, Kir's powerful thighs straining underneath the bolstered leather leggings.<br/><br/>He was given the Raven moniker partially because he and all his family had to take aviary-themed names, given that they were in line to rule on the Throne of Feathers. But also, given Kirrillim's sour attitude in light of his unreal chances of ever making the throne when he had five older brothers all vying for the spot when their healthy, virile, warrior-father King finally died, Kir was given the moniker as a result of his dour attitude.<br/><br/>Which was understandable, really.<br/><br/>But Kir had launched his own expeditions, touring wide and far, searching for spheres to cast his own influence on, peoples that the Raven Prince wouldn't be a joke to, but instead a name to inspire awe and fear.<br/><br/>Kir had found them.<br/><br/>And now, after years of training, living, eating, loving, and practicing strange arcane rituals with them, they were ready to be his. Kirrillim, the Raven Prince, a lord in his own land, the mighty commander of a massive army of loyal shaman-barbarians.<br/><br/>All he needed was the gold. And a few enchanted items. In fact, he almost had a shopping list of magic knick-knacks his people wanted him to snatch from the jaws of darkness.<br/><br/>There was the infamy, too. He needed to be one of the mighty heroes to purge the dark caverns below, not only to give his new people stories to weave about and songs to sing about their ruler, but to give his old family a shock and wake-up call.<br/><br/>But first, he had to purge said caverns.<br/><br/>Reaching the top of the steps, he looked out from underneath his ornate metal mask. There were guards ahead of him.<br/><br/>Kir thought there might be. He had expected as much. With such a castle, there ought to be.