As if it wasn't obvious.
A trio of chosen had come face to face in the middle of the frozen White-Steppe. Behind the glass-like spires of the glaciers and across the jagged glacial ravines, the magical domineering presence of gods came face to face.
Twin wolves of light-eating vengeance gazed into the many headed eyes of a dragon. A god-dragon. A hydra-inspiring monster with many heads and endless rows of teeth. A beast of nightmares and a scaled revenant of the seas.
Despite their difference there was stark similarity.
The dragon had the head of dogs with its elonged snouts and pronounced canines. Some even sported floppy scaled or spiked ears.
Despite Claude's confusion— and slowly following realization of events thanks to Arne, it lined up.
The girl stolen from her parents— allegedly, held magical— even cosmic, similarity to the boy who's family was stolen from him.
Kindred spirits and their kindred godly connections.
She spoke again, after looking away from Claude and meeting eyes with the bear.
"It's been long, friend. I thought I lost you in the blizzard forever."
The bear huffed and trotted over to press her head against the girls chest.
The kobolds stayed at a bow.
Claude stayed at a loss for words.
Until she was looking at him again. "If you've come to hunt my people, I will defend myself, hero. But if you're here for something else, the floor is yours, wolf-man."
The choice of nomenclature felt purposeful but Claude didn't understand as he fiddled with his belt and holsters until he pulled out the paper that had her quest description on it.
"….I was here to avenge you." Claude said in a small voice.
The girl— who was only a couple years younger than him, smiled, "No need. The scream-wing hasn't taken me. And any avenging will be done by my Skylodraki Tribe." She motioned to the kobolds.
It was then that Claude noticed their subtle differences from what he understood of kobolds. Beyond the brutes still holding down the screamwing with tight chains.
Even the normal looking kobolds were….
Unique.
Their dental composition was canine. They had ears like wolves and hounds. Some even had tails and growled while others scented in Claude's direction.
"[Canine Kobolds….. that's a first for me— and I thought I abandoned all my firsts when I found the werelion brothel in The Sunlands…]"
"Arne."
"[Sorry mate.]"
The girl looked around at the high climbing glacial walls surrounding them before looking back to Claude, "I won't find your Venerators trying to ambush me and mine, will I?"
"Venerators…?" Claude thought.
"[Chosen have followers— or a team of likeminded individuals to help them better the relationship with their god. It allows for better skills and strength gain. This girl's Venerators are the Skylodraki tribe of kobolds. Their praise to Scylla probably explains their altered appearances.]"
"Got it." Claude replied to Arne vendors shaking his head at Crysta, "No Venerators. Just us. I told you the truth. We thought you died."
She nodded, "As everyone did."
"But then we start tracking you. You were reborn out here. Against the wyldmen."
"Fitting that the great maneating monster of Greek legend chose me in those moments." Crysta said, "If only she came to me sooner."
"What?" Claude said under his breath.
"Did you ever go to my home? Did you find my father and tell him about your holier than thou quest for vengeance?" Crysta asked.
Claude was confused by her ang—
"The screams came from the north!"
Claude and Crysta's advanced senses caught the voices all the same as the others.
Immediately, Crysta turned on him angrily with spirals of white steam flowing from her nose.
"It wasn't me!" Claude said, "The only reason we found you was because of that." Claude pointed at the screamwing.
"[Which I assumed was obvious…..]" Arne commented.
Crysta took a moment to process as she mumbled about how hard beast-taming was. A moment too long as a shape stood up at the top of the glacial walls to the south.
Claude's ears flinched at the sound of the bowstring being pulled.
It whistled through the air following the release of the arrow and pop of the string.
Claude lunged forward, jumping over Crysta in a blur.
He landed in front of her with the arrow in his hand.
"CULTISTS!" The archer yelled back to his squad of oncoming heroes.
The years of mental conditioning and social norms had Claude ready to call up the hero as he loaded up another arrow and explain it was a misunderstanding. That he was a hero too and the girl was good. Her and her tribe.
Then Claude thought back to it. To what Ursula said.
Good monsters and bad heroes.
Elves unwilling to kill children and heroes who couldn't rack an arrow fast enough to put between someone's eyes.
Claude was throwing his spear before he knew it.