He'd seen sacrifices before, but not with the heavy emphasis on ritualism. He was a soldier. He had the stains of war all over him. He'd seen the 'sacrifice' of civilians by the men with the maps looking at markers on a board, considering the little x's in front of them 'expendable casualties'. Easy for them to say when they weren't the ones having to pick through the wreckage of bodies or ignore the wails of the grieving. He hated war, but he liked the side he'd picked and the job they took to chip away at the people standing over the large maps.

That had been then. Now? Fuck. He had no idea. Now he was playing toga party, waiting around and feeling that tickling unease at the back of his neck, like he could feel someone staring at him through a scope. He hated that feeling. The only time it hadn't given him the willies was when he knew the eye on the other side of that scope belonged to Cougar; watching his back. He sipped his water as he looked over at his companion, glancing down at the whip laced around his ankle. "You hear any talk of gods?"