JORSEVAL

Evening comes dark to this place but it's a dark place already, in fact Jorseval is quite fond of the shrouding mists and shadows that she walks through. Measured steps propel the angular creature through the fog and she pays no mind to the glow of eyes that follow her for now they’re only eyes and if they must watch then let them watch, she has no reason to fear them. She’s here to watch too. There is safety in concealment, opportunities to observe unhindered and that is why she has come. This is the source, or so she has been able to suss out, of the increased influx of foreigners.

Change was the normal order of things in this strange land. With wild gods and regions that sprung from nothing and disappeared into the abyss, Jorseval has learned from a young age to expect the unexpected but she is always curious about new things. Gathering information, after all, is the only way to approach making decisions and these foreigners are a mystery to be studied. Plain, unnatural beings, she’s heard; drabcoats, godkillers, and she wants to know more.

It is the “godkiller” moniker that disturbs her most. Death is the great equalizer, yes, but when it’s mortals killing gods? That’s breaking new ground that Jorseval is not yet sure should be broken. Gods here in the rift were wild, powerful, categorically “not to be fucked with”, and these if these mortals intended to upset the balance of power here, then that was a threat that needed to be dealt with.

So here she was, to deal with it. Or perhaps better said to learn more, and then deal with it. She sets a slow pace, for caution’s sake and to keep her footfalls quite on the underbrush. The bony appendages of her wings are folded across her back so as not to catch but held unnaturally stiff to keep them from rattling against each other. So far Jorsaval has found no sign of more of the godkillers, but like the eyes keeping her company, she watches.

""

there a precious few at ease