— I'm not here looking for absolution —
Stave is not accustomed to being summoned—being commanded, and so he does not arrive right away. He peers idly over at where Ghaul calls those in Pangea toward him with a stoic face, nearly apathetic as he muses over whether he will show up at all. He, after all, has no grand plans of power or titles—they seem so dreadfully dry to him—but, in the end, the curiosity of what Ghaul is bringing is too much to ignore. So he shifts and begins to make his way toward the gathering, albeit slowly.
As he walks, he calls to the things underneath the dirt and soil.
The things that crawl and the things that fly.
He does not call on anything particularly large, but by the time he arrives, he is flanked by dead deer and elk and snakes that slither and rattle and clink. Stave pauses and angles his head, looking toward the impressive display of Ghaul, even injured. “I will accompany you south,” he says, his voice dry. In some ways, he has always viewed Ghaul as a brother—the two of them being raised amongst Ana’s brood in their earliest days. And while he does not hold love in his heart, he at least would fight alongside him.
Or, rather, his undead would.
