Crown of Fakra

Bordrax was the first to react. The great Quintresier bowed, tucking its legs beneath it. Behind Bordrax, as if knocked over in rows, the nomads knelt and laid their heads on the ground, sensors cocked in awe at the Commander. Even Asar was not immune— no, was in fact completely astounded. This would leave a mark in the minds of the Quintresier and, when they went home with news of the human, would change the tone of their words; perhaps of the whole Ecosystem. Above Gywtug’s head, the Crown of Fakra danced. Though she lacked eye cups to perceive its colors, the energy washed over her shoulders and released the tension there. This was the blessing of the ancestors, bestowed once in the life of a Commander, for a series of acts that embodied the tribe. It was almost more than she could bear; and it came with its own weight, on the cusp of this exchange era.