“Hunting boar, husband?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only when you take that thing with you.”

“Ah. Good eye.”

“Does it please you?”

“Ask me again when I return with dinner.”

“Mmm… I can hardly wait. And yet…”

“Yes?”

“Why not fish?”

“Again? We had that yesterday.”

“True, yet I’m in the mood for a swim and...”

“… as you wish. ”

“What? At least this way you get what you want much sooner.”

“Yes.”

– Ayla & Varg

When Varg abandoned his past, there were few things he took with him. Of these were the fang blade he would eventually give to his future wife, while the other was a dependable Daeyaran pilum he favoured in the arena, when he wasn’t bloodying his opponents with his natural weapon: himself. The half-orok had a perchance for resorting to savagery when all else failed, which in turn earned him a name from spectators he would never forget.

The Wolf Man.

In truth, despite his unusual strength, despite his irrepressible bloodlust, when his survival demanded nothing less, Varg despised the monster he became in the arena. It certainly did not help that many came to see just that and were outraged when he managed to quell his inner demons. They wanted to see him tear his foes limb from limb. End lives with the kind of savagery that was thought forgotten in a so-called civilised world!

Alas, such was the will of his masters before he managed to escape them. His combat skills learned in the arena would continue to serve him well as husband to his beloved Ayla, not only as her protector but one who could provide the necessary nourishment they both craved. That said, he could never quite understand the art of the bow, yet he needed it not. Not when a spear could reap similar results. Hunting in the wild became second nature to him.

It helped him find peace. For the first time in his life he knew where he belonged.

This spear was a gift from a thankful resident of Haven, the blacksmith, Arlof, when Varg offered to help reclaim a crate of ore that went missing before reaching Haven. Turned out the merchant that Arlof had bartered with for the ore surrendered it to local bandits for safe passage, yet what the bandits did not count on was Arlof’s tenacity and his friendship with the half-orok. They should have settled for something else among the merchant’s wares.

Fortunately, no one was killed, and the bandits were more than happy to return the ill-gotten goods when they were confronted about their silly venture. I mean, a shipment of ore? Really? True, they had the means to smelt it into something useful and were no doubt planning on using said usefulness to raid larger targets but...

They knew better than to cross paths with Varg.

lol, I actually had plans to finish this a couple of days back, but time got the better of me. x_x

On a side note, this may get updated with additional spears. Reasons!

Art / DRAGONBOUND – BLISS - © Kris Paul Love