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Feeling a strong signature in the near districts was curious. Or if not curious, worrisome. There were no equally crippling Moon-powered signatures, so it seemed likely that it would be a good idea to at least check in. The feel was no doubt a General.

It would look better to offer help for menial tasks beneath the source of the signature than to ignore their presence and be in contempt of rank.

So Titan took to the rooftops and power-polls, trying to practice his accuracy in jumps and rebounds. He was not graceful, nor anything like one of Johnny's ninja. He didn't think he ever would be, but he could at least do his best not to mess up. Arriving near the source, he took to the pavement again, slowing his pace to a walk. His sensibilities dictated he should not approach a superior from above them- he was not above. Symbolically or physically it didn't jive.

Rounding a corner, he caught his breath- armor, cape, hair like blood and smile like a razor that he had not expected to see as the source. The name whispered through his lips, an indecipherable mix of a prayer, a profanity and an exclamation all at once, "Obsidian-"

"Nej, nej, jarl. I would forget the sun sooner, " it was spoken hurriedly, worry plain. He knelt in a motion, taking one knee and bowing his eyes to the blood-black boots that approached. "Nu är sagan all** I am woken from the dream. I am come to better strength to truly serve. Please. As I once pledged, let me do so again....I would be steel if you would fashion me. "

"I meant no betrayal,...I didn't know the purposes of those that locked the doors. Of the woman that came to us each after the Games. I looked for you, there among them. Would that it were you, that I know and have spoken with Whose power I know. You speak with actions and words ....that call to old blood."

"Am I not worthy now, at least of your service? Of the Earth's ? Of this kingdom? Say it that it be so and I would kiss your ring if you wore one." Titan hazarded to look up, eyes honest and clear.

**Now the fairytale is over

"I would so swear, as the Hirðskrá said. If you would offer your hilt to me, I would see it don't rightly."

"To be of your drótt, your war band, and to try to become the stallari. " It was important not to flinch, if Obsidian drew teh sword not that he could offer fealty but for his life. It was a possibility, and he would not discount it.


(stallari, lit. "marshall", the second in command of a war-band)

Titan dropped his raised knee, that penitence be complete. Vindicated, he looked clearly at the General as the blood trickled down over his collar and then chest. He was not wrong in his own choices- as any king should be, Obsidian was sharp, strong in arm and sharp in mood and youth.

When it was offered forward, Titan raised right hand to support the hilt and left the blade. "Into battle, be my disgrace that Obsidian be surpassed in valour, a disgrace not to equal his valour, an infamy to survive him and returned from the field. I oath to defend and protect, to give my deeds to his renown. To fight for his victory, my rewards his love for me and keeping. Betrayal's reward is death, even by this blade. "

With that he nicked the pad of his thumb deliberately, then painted the blood along the blade, then across his own lips and kissed the glimmer of ruby on the hilt. "My jarl, Obsidian."

He lifted the sword in presentation back.

Titan flinched, lips pulling on one side into a line. He had somehow not earned the benefit of faith. Neither on word, nor deed, and all that echoed behind was laughting words and implications that likened him to mistakes.

He wanted to ask taht he be judged not by some other's past, but my his own merit, but it was probably equal parts useless and impertinent. Obsidian would judge as Obsidian chose. It was not the duty of the judged to declaim the court unfair. What was in his hands was to offer proofs against doubt.

"Will you better me, and teach me? " That at least was something a warrior could ask respectably of his lord. He stood slowly, like a draft horse that hefted its tons up. Obsidian's comments sticking awkwardly for a moment before he hazarded on that topic, "Again?"

They'd thought that at some point previous? Had it been.....true?

Was it relief or disappointment that lurched and waiting like a gargoyle in the precipices between throat, heart and gut? It was in his nature to wish to be or become all that was asked or sought by any cause to which he was devoted. That he was lacking was a blow to that, but even his slow pate was able to come to the suggestion- maybe it wasn't a bad thing at all to not be the General's type for some things.

Maybe no one should be that. From a man-law standpoint, though, that was terrible and depressing. A lord should have some second or third hands to hold their banner. Maybe it was as simple as gender, or the fact that he was alive and not a person about to be a corpse by the end of play. That was starting to get dark. Nevermind. He didn't want to know or wonder about it. He let the words out on a breath, "Some mysteries to the depths of the Rift."

"I don't want to just survive. I want to thrive."

He was fairly certain that Obsidian had watched him enough to have a fair estimation about the completeness or incompleteness of his idiocy.

He didn't expect the senshi were all about skinning either. No point in speaking against that either. But he'd met some senshi, had talked with them. Like Pomona. They were as normal and as much people as he was himself- they had a cause, and it just happened to be separate. Maybe some of them were violent, but most were just there fighting for their lives, or fighting to save people and not understanding how to just...go where they belonged.

They didn't even have their leader to direct them. Feet and hands without a head. "They will leave, convert, or they will be given back to the ground they were, this time, born on."