The Sunspire we are not made whole by pain

splitskull isn't kept waiting long before a woman approaches him from within the borders. she is a mottled dark grey, brown and silvery-white. small and lean. he appreciates the punctuality. she gives him every pretense of being friendly and polite as she greets him and follows it by asking him not to step any closer. "of course." the bounty hunter murmurs in response, returning her politeness with a small dip of his head. she introduces herself as wraen and states that she is one of the leaders of this sunspire. she looks young still, he thinks idly. he'd once thought, years ago when he was a young man, that leadership was wasted on the old. he would have much rather followed a more sprightly leader than an older one. becoming an 'old man' himself ( despite that he's still got plenty of good years left, bah ) has left him with a shift of perspective of the world around him. it challenges the way he used to think, and physically challenges the way he fights and moves. it was seemingly never-ending journey of discovery for him.

"i am called splitskull." called not am. he'd went by a different name once upon a time ...but the ritual of ascension into hextooth spire's leadership had left him stripped of his name and bound him by blood ritual and oath to go by splitskull. regardless of if he stayed in the spires or not. "your mountain reminds me of my previous home," splitskull murmurs contemplative as he lifts grizzled muzzle towards it ever-so-slightly. "and i was wondering if you have might room for me among your ranks."