Dragoncrest Cliffs that's how i get mine, that's how i get it

He didn't really deal well with bodies. Usually, it was kill and split. They smelled, and rigor mortis was creepy as fuck, and honestly--

They reminded him too much of his own mortality, which was a subject he didn't really like to meditate on.

Verx let out a sigh, peering down. It was the mouthy dude that had harassed Heda the other day, the one she'd turned away. Looks like he'd gotten his wish--his remains would live here on the cliffs forever, at least in some form. He hadn't wished him well then, but Vercingetorix hoped he'd find peace in the great beyond. If there even was one.

With a grunt, he dragged the corpse as close to the edge as possible, and then gave it a strong nudge with the top of his head. It rolled ever-closer. Another nudge, and it lurched forward and down, tumbling down the cliffs with a sickening series of thumps.

"So long, asshole," Verx muttered, stepping back, face inscrutable. He took a moment to wonder whether his body would share a similar fate one day. Tossed into his territory by the enemy. It wasn't altogether

hard to imagine. Hopefully Eurycrates had died quicker than this. He limped along to Drageda territory, half-dragging himself, unsure of where he got the strength to go on. His entire broad chest was slick and hot with blood, and more came with each step. His breathing was labored, wet. His eyelids drooped.

He hadn't ever meditated on his own mortality. Vercingetorix was accustomed to flinging himself into battles with no thought for his own fate, only the outcome as a whole. Maybe this was another symptom of getting old, thinking about the great beyond and shit. And everything that he would leave behind.

Fuck. His kids. He wasn't ever gonna get to see his kids.

Who would he see first? Heda? Mom and Dad? All his buddies cut down in conflict? He hoped there would be a big fucking crowd, and he hoped they were down with sparring, because he was goddamn pissed.

Of all the wolves to fuckin' end him, it was Blackhead?! Verx made a note to stay alive long enough to tell Blixen to toss his guts onto her stupid face. Then again, she probably would like that. Sick fucking freaky woman.

Aure. Had Vonn got her away? He hoped the twins would go far. Drageda, too. Fuck these Rusalkan maggots. Get back to Trigeda, regroup, get more warriors, wipe their asses off the fucking map forever.

Fuck it hurt. That was good, right? Everyone he'd watched die had told him it didn't hurt. But this hurt a lot.

He couldn't breathe.

Just a little bit farther. There's the redwoods. Hougeda beyond.

He hoped he saw Heda first.

Can't fucking breathe.

He gagged and stumbled, tumbling over in a heap of dark flesh.

Cnt brth.

He took a

moment to
wonder

whether
his body would
share a similar fate

today.

Tossed into his territory
by the Enemy (him. me.)
.

it wasnt altogether

hard to imagine