Seeing the leader leave like that gave Liriak a great sense of sadness. With regret still plastered on his face, he turned to Kamyph and bowed in respect to her.

"It will be done, Lunar Warchief," streaks of his lilac hair fell in front of his face. “Give us some time and we’ll complete your request.”

"Wonderful," without uncrossing her arms, Kampyh said with a frown.

Liriak soon turned to Dallus, marching quickly in that direction so that he could reach him as soon as possible.

Without even being noticed during those events, Qurnuk and Wokor watched the events with some curiosity.

"And here we go again," Qurnuk said to the archer as he rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, Kamyph turned her gaze to the younger pair.

While Wokor remained completely serene with her expression, Qurnuk was startled by the predatory look she cast on anyone who was procrastinating nearby.

The black-winged moth-boy felt the sensation of a blade almost pierce through his heart, and his face outlined how terrified he was at that moment.

"Hurry, rookie!" Qurnuk spoke disturbed. "Go fetch us the hunting net and some ropes at the Warehouse as soon as you can!"

He soon ran away, frightened by Kamyph's anger as he left the archer completely alone.

Seeing that he had been left out, Wokor noticed that Lunar Warchief still looked at him with a disapproving look. In an act of pure calm, the young archer only bowed out of respect for his superior, and without much delay, he set out towards his next goal.

Following orders was an extremely natural thing for the new squad member, even because Nathroryos had a very strict policy on the nation's men. From the moment they hatched from their eggs, the little larvae boys remained instructed to soon work for the priestesses, either as mere work auxiliaries or just... divine offerings' objects.

They learned early on that the High Priestess was a goddess among mortals, and that she would take them to transcend their bodies to an eternal spiritual field. For that, they should blindly venerate her at all times, and with their most important services, they would achieve the satisfaction of being fulfilled.

Like many, Wokor was one of those larvae boys raised by priestesses with the strongest warriors, without any kind of family member he could count on.

This, however, was purposeful: moth-men should not have any affective ties, as this would soften them and get in the way of their true duty.

High Priestess Urioth was everything for the Sacred Soil: prophet, mother, deity, and guide to the beyond.

No Nathrorian mortal was in a position to think otherwise.

With these thoughts in mind, Wokor finally arrived at the hunters' Warehouse.

Being a modest rune-stone construction - with wooden windows and doors - the young archer accessed the dimly lit place. With abundant dust and several wooden boxes in its path, the room held just a little more than some crates and a few tools on the wall.

Wokor's moth eyes adjusted to the shadows of the place, and without much ado, he spotted a small wing of tools in the corner of the room. With slow, calm steps, the young archer approached the wall where the net and the ropes he sought were kept.

He finally raised his hand to remove the hunting net from the section, soon taking possession of that resistant fabric in his fingers.

Wokor hesitated to look at that rough material on his grey skin as if the texture was extremely familiar to him. He stroked the segments instinctively, searching through his memory to find out where that sensation lived in his mind.

And then, suddenly, he remembered.