Zone E -- Highlands

[Gildarts]

So this was life on the road with Dust’s fellow Primes!
 
First, Gildarts somehow landed himself inches from a grizzly bear crossing their path which, spotting the red-haired mage immediately stood up on two feet. Nature’s version of intimidation. It was taller, and had a significant amount of more hair. It was about to strike a claw down when Illidan threw a ray of green magic, slaying it in one shot. It was almost comical when the bear’s heavy body collapsed on Gildarts and his chainsaw.
 
This fresh bow of weight in the mammal’s knees took Gildarts off guard. He’d been ready to punch, not brace. The brown bear had done nothing wrong, except be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now it lay crumpled on top of the silver-armed mage. “Illi-n… M-m-m-mrphh, mr-phhh!” it was impossible to understand to hear what the middle-aged prime was mumbling about from the muffling insulation of grizzly bark-colored fur.
 
“M-grm- MMM!” his silver hand thrust his highly valued chainsaw out first before lifting up the beast without a single ounce of help from Illidan. He’d slain it. Plus, Gildarts was better than that. Dust cautiously poked the carcass of the bear before helping lift it. The pinned prime weaseled his way out. Today was bad hair day number two.
 
Dust immediately burst out laughing, nearly dropping the bear’s foot directly on Gildarts’ back as he crawled out army style. He stood up with a huff and noticed Dust was smiling as he looked at him. It wasn’t uncommon for the Prime to inspire the youth of the next generation, however now that he was on his feet he felt the uneven weight of his muddled hair. The static from the friction and fur had caused an untidy mohawk to stick up like bright orange spokes from a carriage wheel. He had numerous spouts of antlers and glided his hand over his head to slick the strays back down.
 
His face didn’t show the common flush from embarrassment, but instead he was casual. Like a boxer, he took the punches he was prepared for to better help brace for the heavy hitting punches. Things like common amusement didn’t phase him, he’d likely seen it all before. Instead, he was more worried about the chainsaw on the ground. Common items like that could be crushed under the massive weight of the bear.
 
Picking it up, Gil confirmed it was intact and likely still ran. There were tufts of the bear’s fur caught in the silver teeth its chain. Illidan extended his hand, “I trust no one will mind getting a real meal in around here.”
 
Gildarts contained his internal horror, Illidan wanted Husky so he could chop the bear to pieces. This was going to get her all dirty with blood and it wasn’t raining anymore. Still, his stomach rumbled after their long ventures, plus, Gil had shared his food at the camp with Dust.
 
“Well? The limbs will be rigid if you wait any longer,” Illidan jived, almost playfully.
 
With a long, mournful look, Gildarts released his organic hand’s grip on her fine handle and waited for Illidan to RIP AND TEAR the bear.
 
….
 
It was dinnertime, what was on the menu?!
 
Bear steak!
 
Fresh cooked meat sizzled above at the makeshift fire. Illidan, despite his eye condition, was a craftsmen when it came to slicing up animals for parts, which should’ve been a red-flag, had the group not been so blind to their own hunger.
 
Gildarts took one long look at his gore-covered, beautiful Husqvarna chainsaw and contemplated renouncing his pescatarian diet for the hearty one of well-cooked bear flesh. His hunger won. The fire was green and of fel origin, since the branches were still damp from the drizzle that lasted longer than a day. The three of them dug into the well-cooked meat, Illidan had advised them to let it simmer a while to cook out any unwanted bacteria from the meat.
 
It was a good call, because when magical creatures were cursed you couldn’t always burn out the taste of bitter, but normal bears carried things like trichinosis. Gildarts didn’t have to know what that word meant to know it was likely something he didn’t want to get sick and die from.
 
Dust seemed like he had conversations on his mind, but couldn’t quite will himself to get there, especially with Illidan’s eyeless gaze constantly following him like the Mona Lisa but with x-rays. Other than that, it was kind of cool, hanging with the guys around a campfire and letting the scent of meat fill his nose. It made his mouth water and he was getting too eager not to take a bite.
 
They’d set it up over the fire in thin strands of meat and let their sticks hover like fish poles. Illidan was ‘smoking’ some meat because he said it was better for preservation, but when Gildarts tried to do what he thought it meant, his meat got immediately charred on the bottom side.
 
Male bonding. Chippendale bonding. Eating meat. This was the way men operated. Miss Malefactor rolled her eyes Don’t you have more important things to do than sit around and tell campfire stories as you burn your dinner?
 
Gildarts didn’t answer because each of them already knew the answer. Instead, he let his blackened meat cool before succulently taking a bite. A chewing bulge formed on Gil’s chipmunk cheek and it took him a good minute to shred the tough meat with his teeth before downing it.
 
Their stomachs were full and everyone had eaten and the fire was warm. The comrades were all around the fire. Gildarts was standing, his old man status meant sometimes it hurt for his leg to be idle for longer periods of time.
 
There was a single twitch of a branch that alerted the crash magic wizard to his feet, coming forth was a familiar face.
 
Instead of wanting a fight, which Illidan and Dust leapt to their feet expecting, Gildarts held up something glowing as a sign of peace in the middle of this godforsaken war. Humble Sage was no longer alone.
 

#lowkeydoomguyref <3 Gillidan and Dust grow close to a familiar face. Humble Sage.