The Marquis

The White Stag Prince jumps and lands beside the god of savagery, casting off the deer's shape like a cloak--literally, in that the shape flutters down to the ground and becomes a silvered stag, no longer a disguise but now a myth given form. At its first glance of Barghul, it runs: fast like the win, fleeting like summer.

"I suppose it's nothing to me, save that it's a part of the story, isn't it?" he asks, bending inhumanly in the still night like a wind-shattered reed. "And such a clever thing you are," he says, circling the beast, "I'm sure you'll be the source of many glorious tales."