GRETT'S CLAIM

The wood at the bottom of the porch still had rot, nothing the sage did had meaning. The summer air dried with relief as he put the rebuild on hold for the season.

The door still felt stiff with stick. It shrieked on his brother’s calling. Ogal’s face glowed, “Krag harvest?”. At age and finally Thorn leaf kept, he grabbed his late father’s sword. “We ride or feast for our family”.

“Requisition? I know you Grett, fancy words or family?” Ogal asked, gripping his wooden spear, revealing his glistening metal dagger to his right.

Grett smirked and stepped, the mud sludged and slipped. He spired their family instrument. “It’s all Requisition brother, mine as well as yours”.

Ogal reached and held Grett’s gripping fist, “Mine and yours, Krag roast’s a bonus, yet Stoneport might be our new mount’s teaching.”

He shared a fulfilling gaze before tugging and sheathing his weapon, “lead the way brother”.

It was still early, and the drew from the Grow soaked their leather boots. Ogal preferred this shortcut, but not the Thornlord’s farmers. Remembering their childhood, Grett thought fondly of their devious attempts to provide for their ailing mother. They were never caught, but with age Ogal embraced the Thornish way of taking in sight without remorse, with age Grett refused.

The Thornlord was loyal to Requis and so was he. Requisition brought them wealth and Crystalis; it promised rebirth as gods, and in requisition of God’s instruments, their crawl from the darkness to the Age of Light would begin.

Their mother soon passed to a light beyond this world, and lost without meaning Grett plead his life to Requis, and to their requisition. Ogal at dismay, through Imperial law lost their family sword to Grett at word from the Sage. He was stubborn. “Thorn I am, that’s my request!”. Ogal would always bite his teeth at Grett, but with time, a brother’s bond remained.

Entering the Kragwood the salt air filled their path, the clash of the ocean’s wake roared through the forest. “Perfect nesting grounds,” Grett thought, scanning the underbrush for any claim.

Ogal kneeled, “Ghru pointed us here, I’d tread lightly,” he said, prodding the ground with the end of his spear. “I’d prefer whole, not a foot in my tribute.”

“And Ghru knew but hadn’t taken? Hard to believe he’d give up such a find,” Grett responded.

Ogal laughed. “The Mother, bigger than normal and fierce with egg laying. Now’s our window, let’s be first to this claim.”

Through the brush, they came across a mound of dirt and sand. Ogal raised his arm to hold him back. The spoils were near, but danger was the shroud within the Kragwood. “Mother or not, the Dreg Clan are back from raiding and they’ll happily raid us,” Ogal remarked.

“The ways clear, brother,” said Grett as he slowly unsheathed his Thorn sword in caution. Ogal’s arm lowered with a burst of quick pace. “Quick then!”. He pursued, but Ogal already had his hands in deep, shoveling the loose earth to find what they came for.

A smile filled Ogal’s face. “I have it” he shouted in excitement. His arm receded from the burrow. The dirt and sand rolled as the Krag egg met the gaze of the brothers.

“This one’s mine”, he gasped with joy, falling backwards while cradling his tribute.

Grett digged in, the depth and feel worried. A grab felt dire and all that his eyes saw on his pull was the glossy and sleek arm of his broken claim. The satisfaction receded with the opening of his palm to the yolk and shell running to his elbow.

“Maybe you digged to deep, brother?” Grett' said as he turned and faced him, his worry turned to suspicion. “Is this my claim?”.

Ogal raised his head, face blank and fingers straining. “Clumsy mother, at least we have feed for Buirchwood”.

“And shall we serve rot with sand?” Grett barked in frustration.

Ogal gripped the egg to his waist side and stood with reason, his voice raised “It’s your request, brother. Scoop with our sword, it should last until supper!”

A blast of dirt behind Ogal startled. The ground began bloating. A bulge growing with dirt venting, it threw him to the ground pearl white and gasping. Grett stood, sword at the ready. Ogal stumbled and found his feet, spear point raised to the surprising menace.

“Mothers still here!” shouted Grett, “impatient? Why’s she not sea bound?”.

The Krag pulled itself to the surface. Ogal let out a whimper at the size of the colossal crab as it reached towards him, claws open and mandibles ready to snap.

Dropping the egg, he braced with his spear, “stick the mouth!”. But his spear didn’t reach. He gave out a blood bursting shriek. His breath was blood as the Krag’s immense grip crushed him.

“By Requis!” screamed Grett as he towers a nearby tree. Watching in horror as his dying brother’s last chance to slay the beast fails. His spear snapping of its shell and his Krag yolk covered dagger slipped from his grip.

Deciding to look away at his brother’s defeat, Grett felt helpless as the sound of crunching bone sent shivers through him.

Minutes passed, and the terror slowly receded as his courage grew. But the beast was still present, scouting and repairing. He had to move; he had to make this count; he had an advantage.

The moment was almost right; he knew what to do and a leap from the tree top onto the Krags back confused the beast. It had no choice but to reveal its eyestalks as it scanned frantically for the nest raider, and without hesitation, Grett cut the eyes off clean.

He slipped to the forest floor and grabbed his brother’s dropped prize. The Krag stamped with distress, unable to see, unable to feed, and unable to hunt. Quickly it tired, and Grett watched as the beast collapsed its weight to the forest floor.

The moment was right, and the Krag was done. Holding Ogal’s dagger, it didn’t move or jolt as he reached past its mandibles to give the killing blow. He had a claim, and a new mount to go.

Buirchwood had a feast in Ogal’s honour, although for Grett’s loss he now had new Krag shell armor. With the Sages blessing, he put his Requisiton on hold. He stayed at Stoneport to train his new mount. In time he named his Krag Ogal because he’d never forget that day in the Kragwood, and after all, it was Ogal’s claim.