Bracket: Experienced Title: [b]Self and House[/b] [spoiler]There is no doubt, the debris fell from the Reef. The tech of the blue ape-kin is familiar. She clicks her mandibles in disgust as she watches the mountainside from her perch, crouched atop an outcropping of stone. Ice-Land, the humans called this place. She is not impressed. There is not much ice. There is no salvage here, among this alien wreckage, not even parts for repairs. It is as hollow as the sterile un-people it once belonged to. A gust of wind blows up the slope of the mountain, stirring the Winter banner draped over her shoulders. Few wear the colors of her House now, or any House. They have all heard the call, the message given by the two-soul Prince of the scattered Awoken, to come together. But she knows what the Crow really is: a puppet to many masters. First to the Marakel, and now to the Kings. This is the plan of Craask, the Coward Kell, who hid his House for centuries while Devils and Winter fought with honor and Wolves were scattered, and now will let the Houses dissolve. Craask says through Crow that the age of the Houses reaches its dusk, that Eliksni must unite. Skolas, the Rabid Kell, said the same, foam in mouth and blade in hand. He came to Winter before, demanding they kneel to Wolf banner. He was no Kell of Kells, Craask and Crow will not be either. They are liars. Those who believe the war has been lost are fools and live in dishonor. Eliksni are survivors. Twilight has not yet come for the Houses and will not come until extinction. Winter still fights with claw and blade and rifle. Docked of their Prime, their Kell, their leaders, still they fight. House Winter will not surrender or fail even when a single Dreg wears its colors and the Ether no longer flows. The Vandal turns over a small machine in a lower hand. It is human, inoperable. She does not know its purpose or significance, but it is one of the few darlings she has kept so she holds it proudly. Static bursts from the radio resting beside her and she turns her head sharply, eyes narrowing. The device cannot bypass the Vanguard security overrides and only white noise can be heard, but the Vandal does not need to know what is being said. A Lightmonger is speaking, and it is close. Muscles tense in preparation as the Vandal carefully scans her surroundings. She is starved, with no Ether to spare, but she is strong even in this weakened state. The human trinket is stowed and her upper hands reach for the hilts of sheathed shock blades. The war against the City That Docks has not ended. Its ghouls still fight and so do the Eliksni of House Winter, even while those who are truly Fallen accept extinction and the words of dishonorable would-be-Kells. Gunfire echoes over the mountainside, sharp and clear. The Vandal leaps from her perch, rushing to the sound of battle. Defiant cries rise from the throats of the Vandal’s kin in the surrounding debris. The Eliksni of House Winter will fight with pride, honoring self and House.[/spoiler]