The atmosphere surrounding the camp, a mixture of anticipation and bloodthirsty hunger, appeared to Kaldros as waves of crimson and obsidian, mixing with the gently falling snow and becoming an amalgamation of glistening White, midnight Black and fiery Red.
How apt, thought the young warrior-mage, shivering and pulling the fur cloak tighter around him as he trudged through the Mardu war outpost, smiling as he remembered his twin's brash words about the cloaks their father had made for them in preparation for the excursion into Temur territory, Jakhan had scorned the usage of the capes, stating that: "True Mardu warriors have nothing to fear from the cold".
While that was perfectly true, and Kaldros could simply conjure a small flame to heat his cold limbs, the fourteen year-old wanted to conserve his energy as much as possible to ensure that he could fight at maximum efficiency in the coming battle – the inevitable fight that was sure to break out soon was Kaldros's, and many other Mardu youths' (including his brother's) Blooding, their first proper clash against warriors from other clans; after that came the Naming, where the surviving aspirants were given a permanent War-Name – a time of great honour for young Mardu warriors, as it signified their ascent into adulthood.
Kaldros was determined to earn an honourable War-name that would make his father and brother proud, as he would wear the name permanently, and earning a dishonourable War-name would shame his family and probably cause his father to lose favour with their Khan, the terrifying orc named Zurgo Helmsmasher. The young aspirant paced through the southern avenue of the camp, drinking in the auras of powerful emotions emanating from the clan warriors – it was exhilarating, the all consuming battle-hunger of the Mardu eclipsing every other thought and making his heart pound in anticipation, when he heard a loud shout of his own name.
Jakhan emerged from the corner of a row of tents, and immediately began running towards his brother. Kaldros's older fraternal twin wore the traditional armoured belt and leggings of Mardu warriors, leaving his muscular upper chest and arms completely bare and unprotected from the harsh cold of the Temur frontier.
Although the two had been born on the same day (Jakhan at noon and his younger brother in the late evening), it was easy to discern which of the twins was the eldest – Jakhan stood a full head taller than Kaldros, and while the mage was willowy and thin-boned, his brother was brawny and large.
Jakhan ran towards his brother, who simply stood still with his arms folded, lower lip stuck out slightly petulantly as the other teenager arrived. The rush Kaldros had felt earlier disappeared as he focussed back onto reality, leaving him feeling slightly hollow inside.
Kaldros's brother's tanned face was set in irritated anger, his wide cheekbones framing brown eyes that clearly showcased his hunger for a good fight. His square jaw was set in a dissaproving frown. He had short, black hair that was cropped close to his scalp, as Mardu who had not earned a War-name were prevented from wearing their hair as a topknot to signify that they were not yet adults. The young mage could tell that his brother was extremely annoyed from even without the fiery aura of barely-suppressed anger that swirled around him like a storm cloud.
"Where in dragon's name have you been Kaldros? I was looking all over the camp for you!" Jakhan almost shouted angrily at his twin. "The muster is starting. A small settlement of Temur has been spotted by our scouts. We need to get there fast if we can even have a small chance to get into the front of the army. What sort of an excuse have you got this time?"
Kaldros looked almost completely different to his brother, as although they shared the wide cheekbones reminiscent of their bloodline, the similarities ended there. The younger twin was an albino, with medium length, snowy white hair with a fringe that almost went over his left eye.
In spite of the fact that usually his wide-set eyes with red pupils (although the colour would often change when he invoked magic) and long eyelashes gave Kaldros an innocent, playful and mischievous look, Jakhan couldn't help but think that his brother appeared intensely displeased – not the same irritated displeasure that he felt knowing that there was little chance that the two would be at the forefront of the battle (where he was convinced that the greatest deeds were done), but more the sad disappointment when something beautiful was ruined.
"Well?" Jakhan growled, shoving his distracted brother, almost knocking him over as he forgot the large gap in physical strength between the two.
"You wouldn't understand, nor do you have the patience or intellect to listen to my explanations" spat Kaldros, before reigning in his irritation and softening his caustic tone,
"I reckon we could still make it to the muster before most of the army gets there, so we can get at the front of the battle, just like you said."
Jakhan grinned in anticipation and patted his brother on the back, Kaldros smiled back as the two made their way to the large area at the northern section of the camp, which was slowly filling up with warriors preparing for war.