No reviews? Come now, lemme feel the love! 'Tis okay, I just put it up last night after all. I just changed the title haha, after listening to the song by Nightwish of the same title and being very inspired by the sheer epicness. Plus it just...fits. I'm excited because, in here I introduce another OC from "DO", and he certainly is a favorite. Anyway, here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy and review!

Chapter 2 - Friends of the Precarious Sort

The inhabitants of the small, squalid village were overjoyed at the gift Qymaen brought for them. Their emaciated bodies seldom received proper nourishment, for the strong men of the group had long since died, leaving behind wives, children and elders who knew not the ways of the hunt. They survived solely off of various roots and other vegetation, far from their natural diet. On the animal they gorged themselves, and their provider stole away, a sense of satisfaction filling him. The gratified faces of the starving children had brought him happiness; his father would surely be proud.

At this, he murmured a prayer to his passed sire, wishing for him eternal peace and freedom in the heavens. His death had been tragic, and the strong bond that had formed after the murder of his mother was severed, leaving a son, only just into adolescence, to defend for himself amidst a cruel, uncaring world of war. Qymaen remembered it well, the man's dying wishes for his youngest child: to raise a family like his brothers, and to act upon his conscience. There had yet to be offspring from him, as well as spouses.

Hours passed as he tread down the worn hunting trail, arriving at last to the entrenched settlement he called his home village. People knew him well - his father's reputation was not one to be forgotten, and Qymaen and his siblings were caught in the immense shadow left by its grandeur. Naturally then, he was known by most, yet few ever spoke to him. The pressures of an aristocratic life were not upon him, except in those rare circumstances when individuals came around to remind him that he was prime material for a mate. He so despised those...complications.

All the poor females he had denied were informed of the same, sad fact: he was not interested in having a family. Not in the present time anyway. He was simply a man who wanted to make a difference without causing a scene, not the sort of person who was quick to bed any woman that asked for it.

"Hey - you're back!"

And if there was one person who always did just that, it was N'jaere viir Rahkah.

He ran to Qymaen, and threw his arms around him. His embrace was returned instantaneously. Rahkah was like an older brother - a good many years older in fact, but the mutual warm feelings were present all the same.

"Yes, I am," replied Qymaen, a smile crossing his face, "I helped them, N'jaere - I found food for them to eat, the poor village to the north."

Rahkah released him, his mannerisms laughably derisive, as was customary. "Who are you all of the sudden, a Jedi or somethin'?" His knowledge and speech were attributed to the vast amounts of time he spent with offworlders, leaving him with incurable, sometimes dissolute habits. "What are you going to do next, brother? Leave the planet and go over to the Huk worlds for bloody fruit?"

It was all out of good fun, Qymaen reminded himself, that Rahkah did what he did, but nothing was ever taken seriously enough with the other man. For that time, he chuckled and hid the fact that it bothered him behind one of his many guises.

Rahkah would come to understand that in due time...