Player Information

- Character Name: Krok'atl
- Current Level: 1

Downtime Tracking

- Date: 4/14/4725
- DT Tokens Available: 7
- DT Tokens Used: 7
- AT Tokens Available: 5
- AT Tokens Used: 0

Downtime Activity

- Activity Name: Training
- Activity Type: Training
- Activity Duration: 7
- Expected Outcome: Gain 1300 XP
- Location: The Great Krok'dahl Temple City of Krok'ssla

Daily Housing & Upkeep

- Housing Type:Survival: Take 10 + 7 (Skill Bonus)
- Upkeep Cost: -

Resource Management

- Goods Used: -
- Influence Used: -
- Labor Used: -
- Magic Used: -
- Total GP Value: -
- Funds Remaining: -

Narrative Entry

The Warrior Caste of the Krok'dhal teach their students to temper their bodies and minds for combat. That in cold, calculated combat, even as in the hunt, there is true serenity, even divinity. Krok'atl has always been one to push the limits of that philosophy even higher. Today, training in the fighting pools of the Great Temple of Kapa'loak, The First Chosen of the Warrior Caste, would be no exception. Each brutal blow from the paired axe and mace head, whipped around him on cruel chains, confounded his opponent's attempts to close the distance on him. He held nothing back, though, perhaps, he knew he should. His weapons were not... Should not be lethal. And yet, even as he thought it, another crunch of bone accompanied by a reptilian bellow of pain pierced the air.   "Enough of thisssssssssssss..........."   A new voice. Cold. Cruel. Vast. By The River King's own scales... That was...   "... Finally..." He said, in barely a whisper. Whichever one it was, he would stand tall. Then... He saw it. Emerging from the main temple building into the grotto where the pools filled from a waterfall higher in the city, hulking over the others, stood a massive Krok'dhal. Sixteen and a half feet tall, a massive, brutal blade in one hand... That was... Not Kapa'loak. The momentary flare of disappointment vanished, however, when he saw how the Chosen's scales seemed to shimmer and burn with impossible light. This was... Tsa'krok. The warrior whose very technique he now wielded.   "You fight whelplingssss... With such... Ferosssssssity..." The voice was sleepy, but the eyes were alert. Krok'atl almost took a half step back. Even he. But that would be a fatal error in the face of this ancient ancestor. He would meet the challenge. Speaking louder, he calls out, meeting the great Krok'dahl ancestor's gaze in full.   "I would show to you the depth of this one's ferocity, oh Great and Ancient One! If you would allow this one to do so!"   A noise... A rhythm... Amusement? No... Something even older. Lost to them, perhaps?   "Very well."   And then it closed the distance. In barely a blink, it seemed, the ancient creature was on top of him, great, ancient blade brought to bear at his neck. Just as quickly, Krok'atl took in his opponent. There were no guards on the blade. If it landed, he was almost certainly dead. Moving almost as quickly, he spun away from the weapon, using the momentum to carry him to the shallower end of the pool, where he dropped low, pulling his weapons to him and quickly wrapping the chain around his off hand, leaving the mace head for his use.   "Impresssssssive ssssssspeeed, young one..."   And, with that, He Of The Glimmering Scales grew, a great, pure white avatar of light surrounding his form, causing him to grow to tower over even the temple above them. Krok'atl responded in kind, his emerald green avatar, noticeably smaller, seeming to smile with ferocious excitement. Tsa'krok's insane speed was undiminished in this massive state, and he brought down a rain of blows which Krok'atl could only barely block, dodge or parry. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, the ancient immortal warrior who struck first blood. His massive blade cleaved down into Krok'atl's chest, rending the avatar's flesh down to the bone. The roar of pain from within was mimicked by the Avatar body, but he quickly recovered, managing to actually tackle the great warrior to the ground and force him to drop the massive blade. Tsa'krok's avatar blinked in surprise, likely mimicking the face of the ancient inside, but he responded with a smart right hook.   And they continued, fighting into the night, their glowing avatars reflecting their light from the stones and waters of the pool, shooting beams of their concentrated battle hunger into the night sky, into the next day, stopping only when the sun reached the mid-day sky to eat, and immediately resumed their ferocious carnage. The magic of the pools, sustained by the faith of the Krok'dahl and the power of their sacrifice, kept them standing, and for a week, they continued like this, fighting day and night, only stopping for a meal once each day, until finally, on the seventh day, Krok'atl, battered, bloodied, and reaching the bottom of his well of endless determination, collapsed from exhaustion.   "You... Were holding back on me... That entire time... Weren't you?"   He grunted out, managing to pull himself to one knee. Their avatars of light had days ago flickered out, both too tired to maintain them. Krok'atl looked up at Tsa'krok one final time, the great ancestor had not emerged from this fight unscathed. He took pride in that knowledge, before passing out into the waters of the pool, even their magic no longer enough to keep him conscious.