Welcome to Gaia! ::

Mmur sat cross-legged on the floor of his first real room, his back pressed against his first real bed. Ever since Hadan had broken off their... thing... and Sussara had so eagerly immersed herself in Amityville student life, the cheerful horseman had found he was forced to spend a great deal of time by himself. As someone who had slept comfortably in a pile of fellow soldiers until recently, being alone all the time was proving very difficult, especially now that he had become accustomed to company again.

His claws tapped out a rhythm on the helm in his lap, and he looked down at it with a sigh. It had been quite a while since he had thought to put it on at all. Once it had been his most prized possession. Now it was just a thing.

"No."

He hugged the bit of skull to his chest, ignoring the bite of its horns against his skin. It was still a prize. It was still unique. He had still carved it with his own two hands and it was still the best helm ever. He had to get out of here. Being lonely was poison.


A little over an hour later, Mmur stood just outside the portal to the ruined isles, a hastily-sewn satchel slung over his shoulder. The last time he had journeyed anywhere near the tower he had ended up picking up more random scraps and shards than he could carry comfortably, so this time he was determined to be prepared. He still wasn't wearing any shoes, but they were a lot less necessary than a bag. Obviously.

He sensed her approach just before she touched his shoulder and smiled faintly in response, even though he was slightly upset his guard had been down far enough for her to get so close.

"Yes. And to eliminate the ones that still plague our lands, if I happen across any. Or if we do." He turned to get a better look at her face, vaguely recognizing the Death horseman from around their compound. "I'd be very glad to have the company. I'm Mmur of Famine." He left off the part about being a soldier. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of his place in the world, he just hadn't been feeling very effective at his job lately. Maybe beating up somewhat intangible insanity beings was just the sort of pick me up he needed.

"We should be off!" He grinned and bounced on his toes, turning back as he headed into the portal to make sure she was coming.

He didn't quite know how to respond at first. Did she think her own clan was inefficient? Personally he could not imagine handling things any way other than how Famine did, but, to be fair, not all members of his clan were that efficient to begin with. He thought of Salbei and immediately felt badly for doing so. As much as Mmur admired and looked up to the other horseman, Sal was not particularly quick to do things a lot of the time. Probably best not to mention that.

"Yes, our alchemists and sages are masters of their disciplines!" he replied happily, continuing on toward the tower. "Though the Death clan's jewelcrafters are surely just as economical? We are not Conquest after all, with their tea and their ceremonies and their hairstyles and their bangles and their archery and their..." He paused. Perhaps he should stop speaking. "Not that there's anything wrong with th—"

He didn't have time to take back his long-winded critique of their fancier brethren before a clawed limb whipped out of the mist and lashed toward them. Mmur silently summoned his weapon, his focus shifting easily toward their enemy. His whip arced through the air with a faint hiss, striking the titan in its retreating hand... paw... thing.

HP: 40/40
Damage: 6
Boss HP: 34/40