Well, it certainly felt a little odd for the old lion to be taking up new skills at his age. But Viking. Reaving. It couldn't be that hard, right? Not for one as gifted and talented as he, right? He was a Seer. A God Spawn. The Goddess of Decay had taken his demon-father's seed and from it, made life. He was strong. He had powers. His size, his knowledge, his skill and his experience.
Why, perhaps he was made for this pride, this rank. Well no, Captain was his next goal. Phlegyas always had his sights set on something more. Strange, then, that he had dallied while his daughter Delphi became a Reaver before him. But he didn't care. It wasn't a contest between him and his daughter. He was proud of her, rather. His legacy would be strong. His blood showed in many of the Stormborn. His distinct purple was unmistakable, and could easily be attributed to his offspring and grandchildren who had joined the Stormborn before him.
The male's chest puffed out with pride as he strode along the plains on his own first Viking. Delphi was off somewhere, as was the rest of the band and the captain. Her thrall, Dhikkara, was on loan to him. Phlegyas was so capable that he would surely need assistance with the size of whatever bounty he was to gain and take back to the pride.
The regal god-son sent the lion off on his own, however, to find even more treasure. He said perhaps there was freedom in it for the lad. Not his place to promise that, of course. But, for now, the boy was bound and determined. And Phlegyas was on the hunt.
