Chance Meeting [Kor] - Completed

Korvus played his part, leaning back against her slightly to preserve that touch and the warmth that came with it. "None at all," he assured her. He moved to put out the fire, leaving the rabbits suspended above it, and then gave her a nod. "The god we're appealing to appreciates a challenging kill more than anything, where glory would be found. In his eyes, if no others," he examined the rabbits with a self-satisfied grin, and then nodded once more, "I'll swear off of magic.If I see you beaten as badly as I'd found you last, however..." he paused, not for any particular reason, but then considered why he didn't say himself. Shouldn't he have? He would've scolded himself if it didn't seem somewhat fitting, but it didn't sit well with him to say so.

Korvus looked over at where his robes and mask sat with a frown, "I'm not opposed to wearing other clothing, if that's what you're suggesting." He yawned, stretching his long-limbed form out. "I don't think I've ever spent so much time naked, in all honesty," he teased, sitting down on the pile of furs and thinking. "We'll need to kill something challenging. A bear, perhaps. I'd suggest a dragon, but even assuming we could, there'd be a lot more we could ask of Val-Kormok than the powers I promised you." He stretched out again, halfheartedly readying himself for what was to come, "Any ideas?"

"Ah, that would be excellent," Korvus said, glancing over at his mask before grinning excitedly at Bishop. "I will keep from using too much magic. To call upon a greater demon is no small undertaking," He reached over, grabbing his robe and fishing around inside of it. The distinct sound of metal sliding against leather was heard, and Korvus produced a ritual knife of predictable ornateness. Cold steel all, the handle was crafted to resemble scales and the blade was spat out by the excessively detailed mouth of what might've been a very evil-looking dragon or a very normal-looking demon. The blade itself was etched with tiny demonic script, harsh-looking runes that hurt the eyes to stare at for too long.

"The knife will be driven through its heart for the ritual. It doesn't need to kill the beast, but it helps," Korvus said, running his fingers along the flat of the blade. "I've had this knife since I was a boy," he said, feeling the tiny pits made by the etched runes, "It was a gift from my master, he said it was made in Karmor." He gazed at it distantly, "The beast's death will make the knife a beacon, and I can call Kormok to this world for our bargain. When he appears, I will ask you to kneel. Refer to him as karkath'ruk if he addresses you, and speak only when spoken to." He paused a moment, "Your presence is necessary for the ritual. I'm... sorry, in advance."

"You are a mortal. He will call you ghaal." Korvus explained, "If you believe me pompous, well..." he offered her a tiny smile, "You haven't seen anything yet. Rest assured, if you mispronounce the phrase, he won't be surprised, let alone offended." Truthfully, her somewhat queer way of pronouncing the word was not as inaccurate as she might've thought. Demons, in their diversity, had a variety of accents due to having a variety of mouths. She would do fine, or so he hoped. "I'd say you should let me do the talking, but you don't speak his language anyway. I'm not sure if he understands mortal tongues."

Korvus nodded, "Kormok likes you. Or, he will. You're everything he could hope for in a creature who hasn't taken up soldiering." He stood, "We go at once. The sooner this is over with, the better. I have been on the very edges of their vision for too long, I doubt that Kormok will be very happy to see me." Calling him with tribute would soften his mood, more so that a devotee to his arts (albeit unwitting) is in attendance. However, he would have to tread with caution as well. Proven though he thought he was to them, the "gods" that were these greater demons were capricious and temperamental at the best of times.

Korvus pulled on his robe, taking the spear and tucking the dagger away in a pocket. He entertained the idea of tying the knife to the end of the spear, but kept quiet about the idea. Bishop knew what she was doing, after all, and Korvus did not. He sorely wished he could bring up his scythe, but he imagined either Bishop or his animals would be so moved by the evil thing that they would kill him to be rid of it. That, and he had promised her that he would not use magic. He followed her closely, speaking low as though the mountain lion were right in view, "Very well. Lead the way."

Korvus' body tensed. His spear did not seem enough, in that moment, but he gripped it tightly. The weight of the knife in his pocket reminded him of just what it was all for, and he considered that would be an even more dependable weapon than this spear. His veins tingled as magic sought to surge out of him. He did not let it, forcing his mind to split between watching for the beast and focusing his power. Above all, he did not admit his fear. Not to himself, and not to his foe. Though bereft of a mask, he forced himself into a cold glare of hatred. He was not a hunter, but he could certainly try to be.

Korvus jabbed the spear at the creature, though he looked far more like a picador than a hunter. He sneered at it, glaring directly at its eyes as though it had any sense that they were crimson, or that this fact was supposed to have any meaning. He considered that genuinely scaring the creature might hinge on waving his dagger about some, but Bishop had told him to distract the creature, and so distract it he did. He was entirely unsure as to if the very presence of the thing would effect it, as it seemed sight was a much more efficient avenue, but decided that was an experiment for another time.

With the beast off him, Korvus drove his spear into the earth and took out the demon-blade. He glanced again at the runes, which glowed faintly at the nearby spilling of blood and told of its hunger. Sprinting forward, Korvus was only too happy to oblige. He watched the fight, and was briefly entranced by Bishop's movements. How she fought harder with each wound, how she moved to kill in such an animalistic fashion. Korvus almost found it beautiful. Perhaps that wasn't the word he'd immediately use, but it worked for a racing mind that urged the body lunge forward and attempt to drive an accursed length of metal through the throat of a vicious predator.

Korvus, half-perched upon the beast, panted with exertion and exhilaration. He looked up at her as he ripped the knife from its throat, "You asked me to be a man," he reminded her, grinning a little as he got to the bloody work of cutting to the beast's heart. Once he saw it, he did not take it. He looked at the knife, soaked with blood and seeming to pulse with anticipation in his hand, and drove it through the heart. The knife was overtaken by a bright glow, the beast's corpse seeming to convulse as the blade took hold and flopping onto its back. Korvus stepped back, "Come to my side."

The light around the dagger extended upward, deepening in color and becoming more opaque. Korvus stepped toward it, hands outwards and partly upraised in invocation.

"Ruk sul'nak-otha-Val-kor-dath-vuth. Rek gish'nak set, rek gish'nak vuth. Ruk chal set-dath-vuth. Ruk'sul'nak rek, Val-Kormok; dalor'nak tem."

As he called the words there came a sound like the distant thunder of an oncoming storm. The light of the beacon began to warp, twisting itself into an impossibly tall form. Flesh and fur appeared, the twenty-foot, man-shaped outline of light gradually resolved itself in the physical plane.

Soon, there stood a massive, bulky man clad in furs from a vast variety of animals. Wolves, bears, and mountain-cats could be seen among them, but here and there were the hides of dragons and pelts of other, stranger beasts. Upon his head was a helm made from the skull of what looked like some massive wolf, an unruly mane of hair spread behind it, but the helm's unnatural shadow obscuring his face. He knelt, his vast musculature rippling as he did so, to regard the two.

He spoke with a voice like clashing steel and the thundering march of an army, but this was not why Korvus seemed taken aback. What struck him more was that Kormok seemed to be perfectly content speaking a mortal tongue.

"So you have called me, and so I appear. Do not waste my time, Kar-Rimatek."

Korvus quickly composed himself, "I bring with me a great hunter," he said, "She seeks your blessing, that she might know what the beasts of the wild know, and see as they see."

The great hunter turned his head to Bishop, "Is this hunter you, ghaal? Stand. Tell me of yourself."

Kormok chuckled, "Karkath'ruk you call me..." he said, setting a massive hand down before them both to steady himself. "This sorceror has taught you well, and you bear the scars of battle. That is good." Korvus seemed tense, still, but Kormok was now almost completely ignoring him. "You were brave, to have your companion call me forth. You do not fear me." He chuckled again, and reared up to his full height. His voice rumbled through the wood, "This is enough for Great Kormok. You will have your prize."

A great wind picked up, Kormok's form becoming indistinct as gusts whirled around Bishop in particular. Power would bombard her, fill her, and seek to inhabit her soul as Kormok's wisdom attuned itself to her mind. Korvus watched, worried for her and yet wholly pleased with the development. It was written in the power that surrounded them, and Korvus couldn't help but hear it:

Kormok approves.

The wind died down and their prey disappeared in a burst of foul ash. All that remained was the heart, Korvus' dagger piercing it, which was still warm after all this time.