Altar of Twilight She demands a sacrifice.

Continued from here.

She was there, and then she wasn't. A brilliant glowing figment, round and red, and filled with love for him. But it was only an instant of clarity—and then, as Njal's eyes adjusted, he began to march on. He was alone. He had made himself this way, of course. Left her behind one too many times. Tried to redeem himself, only to fail. He had lost them each in turn — the children, his wife, his home — but even with the weight of all these failures upon him, he felt nothing but contentedness. The hunger brought upon him by the famine had left him feeling emptier than usual, it had hollowed him out, leaving a great pit where his stomach was; it matched his heart. Except that too was a void of nothing — no pain, no need for pain now. He breathed deeply of the fresh green around him, then plunged in to the daylight, seeking a path south towards the mountains — although Njal could not fathom why he did this. He was mindless, in pursuit of her ghost, and filled with such a massive swell of euphoria that he did not question it.

The day dimmed, but not his spirit. The mountains encroached upon his path and he, once the able-bodied mountaineer, struggled still to find the path along them. When he stumbled up the mountainside enough to detect the familiar scent of Amekaze, he knew he had gone too far. But even her scent did not register as it should have; Njal found it, deviated his path away from it, but in his mind other faces drifted to the forefront. Names, mostly, and the feelings associated with them —

Sterntooth. A great level of respect flooded him.
Lethe. Images of her grave, a brief sadness.
Fox, and then, Bazi, each with a great thump of his heart, for he was full of love for both of them.

Then, Tuwawi.

He gasped. As Njal's body came upon the uneven plateau — this altar, which by happenstance welcomed the end of the day, and the sky erupted with shades of brilliant twilight — he sagged and staggered, collapsing mid-stride as if in supplication to the mountain. Then, as his great mirth and immense love flooded his body, he felt his limbs go numb. It started on his right side. And while he sank there, settled like some kind of gargoyle upon the mountain, Njal lifted his head. He felt the flood of sensations in his chest — like his heart was seizing, or bursting, or trying so very hard to contain his many emotions all at once — but then he saw her.

Maybe it was only his imagination —  his hopes, his love made corporeal — but she was there, standing before him. Tuwawi's face was all he could focus on, and even as he managed a smile, Njal felt the world around him begin to fade away. He slipped back upon the altar and collapsed dully before this new figment, and as the life finally slipped from his desperate grasp and in to the earth once more, he thought he felt her wrap him tightly in an embrace.

Njal wouldn't get to see @Valtyr again, or @Tuwawi, not for real. As the last breath left his lungs and his heart finally came to its eternal stop, the smile upon his lips faltered, and he was gone.

you said sacrifice so i had to come.. plus arunik'ra is red so...

with great effort arunik'ra had surmounted the rise that swallowed the sunmote in darkness; the barrier mountains spread in rough succession above -- and below her, the idyllic plains swept gentle and verdant away. she was not taken aback by its beauty, for arunik'ra did not appreciate beauty -- instead, she was taken aback by her hunger. the scarlet priestess stole down the mountains then, making north for any sign of life that might suggest eventual food.

and life she did find, though she cared not for the flesh that bore it. ahead a wolf staggered, his body spent. behind him the illuminant sky wrapped around him in phosphorous pink and deep, noble purple. he slumped and arunik'ra drew near just as he lifted his head -- her hackles flared as she sought his gaze. but his gaze was slack; dull and empty -- and all she saw in it was her reflection. when he collapsed she sprung back in surprise, feeling her fur riffle wildly along her spine. he was gone, consumed by molech.

I couldn't resist :P

This is a super shitty phone post, but I really wanted to throw Khalba in this.

He followed the priestess east in silence; a thoughtful shadow. The Barrier Mountains had been a true test of his physique, but now they lay behind him, conquered. Daunting as the journey may have been, the man believed nothing to be impossible when guided by the will of Molech. As the red woman drove onward, Ar-Khalba lingered far behind, allowing her the space to lead. His presence was only to attend if need be.

Their destination was unknown to him, yet he made no complaint. He would speak no ill, even when his body begged him to retire. 

Soon, however, the priestess stopped. Ar-Khalba slowed as he closed the long gap he left between them. He approached with his head low and eyes glued to the newly felled corpse laid before her. Molech had led them here, he was sure. But for what reason? He looked to the priestess, silently imploring her to speak Molech's will.

arunik'ra tore her gaze from the fallen wolf, seeking for a moment to view ar-khalba as he drew alongside her. the greyed agouti, nameless to her and now molech's own, seemed to have collapsed from starvation. she eyed his washboard ribs, the dullness of his coat -- but his expression perplexed her for it did not seem pained.

"a shame to have lived and died without the light of molech." the priestess proclaimed, sniffing the prone wolf's nostrils to detect if there was any illness within him. there was none that she knew of; and no poisonous notes seemed to emanate from the stranger's stilled breath. she had no pity for him, however -- he was a heathen, and as far as arunik'ra was concerned it was his fault he had never known the fire of molech's mercy.

The sentiment of the priestess was shared by Ar-Khalba, yet he spoke nary a word. He responded with simply a nod. There was no use shedding a tear for he heathens of this land. They were impure -- cursed by Molech. This one. This grey behemoth of once great stature was nothing more than a sunken wreck. The man neared the corpse, all while silently taking a place at the priestesses side.

He trailed his muzzle across the starved wolf's sunken ribs. The Malkaria had remained well fed -- blessed by Molech -- while the heathans had to starve. In some strange way, Khalba felt it to be justice. "But what do we do with him Res Drunak?" he asked, breaking his silence as curiousity got the better of him.

Mazi had gone out on a mission to bring some prey back for the cache, but what she found was something that she would have never expected.  After a while of searching, the agouti caught Njal's scent, confused as to why he was out of Neverwinter Forest territory Mazi had followed the scent, but as she neared in, she caught the scents of two unidentified others.  So nervously Mazi picked up her pace until she came upon the sight and suddenly stood frozen.  

Njal was lying limp.  Two wolves were by him.  Had they knocked Njal out?  Had they killed him?  What was this?  Was she dreaming.  Fear sparked in the agouti's eyes.  "Get away from him..."  She hissed, but her voice faltered near the end.  "D-did you kill him?"  Mazi then asked, fearing for the worst.

@Goldhawk @Kieran @Kaskara @Eshe @Sawyer @Astra For Allure's howl -- can be referenced in another thread if someone at NWF wants to say they heard it from their location.

Allure had been eager to coax Njal out for another walk – hoping to engage him in conversation and perhaps gain insight to what her parents had been like at Swiftcurrent Creek, when he had known them. He was a gem of a resource to her – for her held knowledge of her parents that was likely she would not hear of from anyone else.

But something seemed wrong. His path had been haphazard at best. And he had wandered from the forest.. alone? Mazi’s scent was detected faintly as well, and the bi-toned girl had considered leaving it at that and wait another time – it was likely the two of them were on their own hunt.

She padded further along, considering her options at this point – yet when a small agtehring of wolves came to view, she paused, stiffening slightly. She could see Mazi – two strangers.. and a fallen wolf, though could not distinguish its features from here. With a sinking feeling, the girl clamored forward, her own slender form coming up behind Mazi as she caught her end words: did you kill him?

Stunned, her bright eyes fell upon Njal – he was the fallen wolf. Unmoving, he was clearly dead, and she felt a pang of remorse for the elder’s passing. Tipping her muzzle back, Allure’s song echoed in to the sky – alerting any wolves of Neverwinter Forest that might have been nearby, though given their distance from the pack, it was unlikely any would come. Even still – they would know something was awry with their pack mates.

arunik'a contemplated her companion's query, her slender muzzle tilting in his direction. what would they do with him? it seemed a paltry offering to give molech the deceased blood of a heathen crone; molech was all deserving, and commanded that those in the light be sacrified.
 
"nothing." she supplied, shouldering him gently as a wolf approached. a wolf who instantly assumed it was they who had caused the dead's last breath. arunik'ra snorted in contempt -- she was half the dead wolf's size. "a silly question." the red priestess chided, still taken aback by the female's accusation. her ears pressed sharply forward as a howl sounded -- shortly after a second wolf flanked the stranger.

The instructions of the priestess... or the lack thereof, came as a relief to Ar-Khalba, who would much rather let the body of the heathan rot in the open than drag him back to the sanctified grounds of the Sun Mote Copse. With his interest in the corpse waning, Ar-Khalba nearly turned to give the priestess and the body some breathing room. He found his movement stopped however as he felt the priestess nose his shoulder.

Wolves approached. For now, he could only see one. Though the approaching wolf didn't seem too threatening, Ar-Khalba kept his gaze glued to her as she moved forward, forever cautious of the intentions of others. She posed an incredulous question and he nearly laughed, but he remained silent at the priestesses side.

Then there was a howl. Ar-Khalba's hackles bristled as a second wolf joined them by the corpse. Taking a few steps forward, he positioned himself to protect the priestess if things got hairy.

Allure was there and these other wolves were not taking her seriously.  Mazi's hackles began to raise and she was about to speak, telling them to scat when she remembered that Allure had more authority than her, so with that Mazi kept her mouth shut.

Through everything though, her eyes stayed glued to Njal's body, as she remembered her conversation with the elder.  He had been such a kind soul during their little chat and so with that thought another thought slipped into her mind:  why did the best always have to be the ones to go?

Her call faded – it was likely they were too far for others to come, and so she shouldered herself squarely, not daring to allow her eyes to leave the two before her and study Mazi to see how she was doing. They denied having anything to do with this, and as the bi-toned girl drifted her eyes briefly over her fallen comrade, she could not see an indication of violence or blood.

“He was one of ours. We will be taking him home and giving him proper burial,” she spoke, her tones quiet, and yet somehow the Frostfur girl tried to remain firm upon the matter.

arunik'ra stared after the wolf that had howled, still somewhat sour that they had the audacity to accuse her of killing the ancient wolf before them. her fur was not in disarray, and no blood flecked her limbs -- she was a simple passerby -- most importantly, an innocent one.

one wolf said they would bring him home, wherever that was -- arunik'ra glanced the two of them over, wondering just how they proposed to do that when the male was bigger than any of them alive currently. she kept her sharp quip to herself, electing instead to step close to njal's form.

she lowered her muzzle, her nostrils mere inches from the fallen man's. she inhaled long and slow around his slack mouth, her senses straining to find any sort of poison still on his lips. nothing; there was the sweet sourness of old age, and now the heady rise of death -- but no poison.

she lifted her gaze, focusing on the one that seemed to be the leader of the outfit. "it does not appear he is poisoned, but be careful. perhaps this one is cursed and struck down by the hand of molech." with that the solemn priestess stepped over the prone male's form, walking towards ar-khalba with purpose. "come." she instructed, making for the rocky path that descended down the spire. they had no business being here -- and it was clear they were not very welcome either.