Encountering the Makabhaki

Zarantytr – Sundas 26th I find myself travelling with interesting bedfellows as of late. The most recent being one Luther Voss, a cleric of the Allfather, a militaristic and stoic individual. A man of rituals, every morning he lays out his holy symbol, a lightning bolt etched onto a silver disc; A bowl of water, for bathing his head and hands with; A durable, yet pristine burgundy cloth, upon which everything is laid out. He shaves both his head and stubble with the practiced dexterity and efficiency of someone performing the same task, every day, for decades. He does not speak of what he is seeking, the tell-tale glint in the eye, the purpose and drive behind every step betray his intent. For now, he has taken it upon himself to accompany me as we traverse these mountains, something I am appreciative of for he is no stranger to combat, this is not surprising given his faith. The light of The Lady shines brightly this eve, bathing these jagged peaks in her silvery glow. Olarune – Morndas 1st We encountered a wandering group of Makabhaki today, traders I learned. Whilst not the first time I have encountered such beings, I am still always taken aback by how friendly and accommodating they are. Despite being physically imposing, looming over even Luther who is not vertically challenged, they do not seek to intimidate and do what they can to set you at ease. Helped by their simple grasp of common, direct phrases and sentences, almost childlike. I wonder if this is intentional. The bartering of goods took place between Luther and a Makabhaki whilst I treated another, named Rohgar, to a ginger tea. His marbled features lit up upon tasting it as he promptly, yet politely, requested for more. Truly gentile folk. Olarune – Tordas 2nd Beset by creatures that Rohgar named “Akki”, vicious, red skinned creatures that emerged from the mountain pass. Clad in armour and branding weapons, they gave the order to unleash their “wolves?” upon our small camp. One of our Makabhaki companions took a sword through the chest, although this was not enough to fell him as he lifted his red skinned assailant and launched it down the mountain slope. The hounds, having lost their master whimpered and retreated. As we were catching our breaths, the sound of a horn reverberated off the mountain peaks, followed by the howling of beasts. Next came the clattering of metallic boots upon earth, my breath caught in my throat. Rohgar ushered us through the mountains, at a brisk pace before we reached a narrow pass. The Makabhaki all shared a look with their injured brother, each clasping his forearm in turn. “Bahaak Ashaan”. The brave warrior stood alone in the pass as we ran onwards. The crumbling of rocks. The rolling of boulders. The whimpering of beasts. The sound of safety secured.

Farewell Kavaar, warrior of the Makabhaki and saviour of this humble elf’s skin. Bahaak Ashaan - Walk tall.