NationStates Jolt Archive

Farkas just walked around, looking at the books. Reading the titles of the books as he passed. He must look crazy to these people, he was still in his tiger skinned robes.

Tapping onto Farkas' shoulder, a tall, well-mannered boy with copper hair and wiry fingers came over. His face broad, his nose small, gleaming white teeth and radiant blue eyes, he looked at the boy. His shoulders were as broad as his face, his arms long but thick, his hands wide and thin, showing the signs he could become a venerable fist fighter. He was donning the typical clothes, a red shirt and pants, with a silky cape that encompassed his entire body, shoulders down.

A small dagger was hanging at his belt, though it was only shining for a few seconds, the space opened when his hand moved to tap Farkas on his shoulder. He spoke with a strong, confident voice, but he had an aura of friendliness. "I'm assuming you're new to the academy. Therefore you had not recieved your uniform yet. Eventually you will, and you must put your original clothes away to your room."

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From the castle of Naharank, the day bright and gleaming, Ashili was sitting beside Authaulus, her eyes scanning along the list, as an army of caterers and workers were scuttling about, working and working away. "I've changed the list to Aghlion. Are you okay with that, Lord?" Ashili asked Authaulus, whom was donning his usual armour, his cold staring face behind a viel of stone and metal skin.

"I am alright with that." He said, his voice calm, obviously watching the many people work about, as his head was sliding from place to place, intent on what they were doing.

"Alright." Ashili confided. With that, she resumed her work. The wedding in two days, and they had to get everything transported to Aghlion, the most eastern major city in the Azhujurius.

“Yes, I am new here.” said Farkas, looking up at the boy. “My name is Farkas Darkholme.”

"Taranihk Illuminaatrix." The boy said passionately, smiling back.

“Well, nice to meet you.” said Farkas, bowing his head to the older boy. “My trainer is Lord Sly'lioth.”

"Lord Sly'lioth? Very interesting. He is a great man, Lord Sly'lioth. Was a participant in the Second War of shields, if I remember correctly." The boy said. "I am becoming a Sadicistra, myself. I was originally training to become a Sword-bearer, but my father died. So Lord Egos, instead, is my master. Yet he is in Nakros Ithrimm across the sea, governing the city that was once in monotheist hands." He trailed on.

“I know of Lord Egos. He is governing a city that was part of one of the Dominion’s allies.” said Farkas. “I will be training to become a Holy Lord.”

“If you did not know, my uncle is the King.” adds the young Darkholme boy.

"King of...?" The boy asked, unsure.

“Jenrak.” said Farkas. “My father’s sister is married to King Saerus.”

"Ah. I see." The boy said, with no change of tone. "Well welcome to the Aslydon academy." The boy said. "Have you met your partner as of yet?"

“Nope, Lord Sly'lioth said she was busy. And I could not meet her until later.” said Farkas. “So, I came to the library.”

"Ah. Dinner is soon. I assume you are familiar with Temsplace food?" Taranihk asked him.

“Yes.” said Farkas.

"Alright. Being the son of the King, I assume King Annirak has accustomed you to feasting in Temsplace foods?"

“Nephew of the king." corrected Farkas.

"My uncle has not but I have done my research.” said Farkas. “Everything can be eaten, if you are in battlefield surround by the bodies of friend and foe alike. You eat what you can to survive.” Farkas smiled at the by and showed off his fangs. “I’m not your normal nine year old boy.”

"I am not either." Taranihk said, nodding. "No child here is normal. No Jenrakian child is normal. For we are pushed by our parents to be the ever best."

“Well, I think I will stand out the most.” said Farkas. “I’m a hybrid vampire. I can walk in the sun without fearing to become a pile of ash.”

"Indeed. Very true. Such abnormalities are not that common in our lands." He said in a graceful tone.

“True.” said Farkas. “The normal mutant gene of the House of Wolf will not show itself until I’m fourteen years old. Wait, how old are you?”

"Fifteen." Taranihk said. "I am getting married in the autumn, to a lovely girl named Elias. You may attend, if you wish." He said, before the clanging of the bells rang throughout the chasmic academy.

“I will attend. That is, if I’m not busy training.” said Farkas. He looked around as the bells began to rang.

"You will most likely be too busy. Henceforth, I wish you well. Your hall is on the right wing, the second floor. There will be two statues of two robed men, and a bronze door between them. Behind that door is where you are to go." Taranihk said, before walking off.

“Thank you.” said Farkas. He turned and heads off to his room. He followed every direction Taranihk told him. He arrived at the bronze door and entered.

"You're late." A stern faced girl said, her voice high but flat, her eyes like piercing knives, etched into her face, her nose small but proportionate, her lips tiny yet furious in a red slash of colour. She had a full coloured skin, her hair long and blonde, her eyelashes fluttery and her ears could be barely seen. She was young, evidently, but a pretty girl. A small bronze bracelet was on her wrist, a tiny pin on her shoulder.

"The feast has already begun, Farkas." She stated, as if she knew him for ages.

Farkas looked at the girl then said “I’m sorry. I was checking out the library.” He walked over to the table. He looked at the food as food and nothing else. “What does not kill you makes you stronger.” he said, sitting down.

"Now is not the tiem to quote somebody else." She said, her voice still fairly flat. "Your table is number six."

“Oh…” said Farkas. He moved over to table six and sat down in one of the chairs.

"Silence!" One of the tall Lords spoke, a thin man with a dress of blades like the traditional Lords adorned. He yelled with a choking conviction in his voice, as if he was preaching to a an army, yet his eyes never laid eyes on nothing but the large door. Sitting down next to Farkas, the girl looked over his shoulder to get a better view of the Lord.

"We have a special guest here today, Ashili Evergone, Red Matriarch of Naharank!" He yelled, as the clapping ensued riotously.

Farkas look over his shoulder at the Lord and heard his words. “Darkholme.” he said under his breath. He clapped with the other students.

"Ah, her second name. You know of her marriage to Edward Darkholme, the Ithus Mignus?" The girl spoke with a silky voice.

“He is my father.” said Farkas, low enough for her to hear him. “She is my mother.”

The girl looked at him carefully. She knew he wasn't lying - she was trained to know - his eyes stayed still, his shoulders did not twitch. There was no tapping on his hands, so colour of flesh heightened by any sweat that would emerge. Though surprised, she did not attempt to show it. Holding her hand for him to shake, she said, "I am your partner, Rowinia."

Farkas took her hand and shook it. “I knew that.” he said with a smile.

"Indeed." She said with pompous doubt.

“So, can we eat now?” asked Farkas.

"You could have eaten at any moment." She said, looking at the podium, where Ashili had stood up, her long red hair falling softly past her shoulders, her familair burgundy jacket-like shirt, pale, soft skin and darting green eyes which changed now and then to a soft amber hue. It all depended on her choice of contact lenses that day. Her fingers running on the podium, she looked at the children as they hushed into an era of silence.

"Welcome, children." She said, looking around, smiling. "Hope you are all here and well. Your parents are proud, you are making them proud. I myself have sired children, and I myself are proud of them." Ashili chuckeld slightly.

"Sorry, I can't be serious." She tried to keep a straight face, though her hand moved to her mouth, covering up her racous laughter. "I'll have Sl'ylioth take the reign." She sat back down, before the large black armoured Temsplace rose up like a bonfire towards the podium, his massive stone-armoured hands resting on its weak supports.

"Apparently the Red Matriarch has problems with being serious. You are all here for one purpose. War." He spoke with conviction, with strength, almost rivalling Authaulus and his legendary speeches. "Each one of you are to become Lords, Matriarchs, Patriarchs, warriors for the next generation. To keep our sands in our hands! I expect nothing but perfection from you all!" He yelled into the microphone, his voice so loud and uproaring that it felt as if the stained glass windows were about to break.

Farkas listen to both his mother and his trainer speeches. He smiled as his mother said she could not be serious. He started eating the food on his plate. It was food that will help him stay alive, so he ate it.

"Now sleep." Sly'lioth ordered, and the children began to rustle up, the darkness of the night engulfing the whole academy, the way lit by soft candles and shining mirrors of light.

Farkas followed his trainer’s order. He eat enough food. He looked over at Rowinia. “Where do I sleep? Nobody showed me early.” he asked.

"You ask a trainer." Rowinia stated.

“My trainer or just any trainer?” asked Farkas.

"Any trainer." She said, before getting up and following her fellow apparentices in a very drone-like fashion.

“Okay. Thanks.” said Farkas. He heads off to find a trainer.

The marble halls of the large stone structure were a soft lining of wood inlaid with soft diamonds and emeralds, as immense Temsplace stood on each side, standing like stone statues still and quiet, their launchers perched on their shoulders, their swords held down straight like gateways, they were a standing army as a the massive figure of Authaulus stood with his glance at the empty chairs, the winding tall balconies up towards a domed ceiling, gargantuan supports showing clawed ends. The windows were clear and the ends ridden in sand, the trees outside around a thin oasis of water that was the pond, the outside trail showing cobblestones perfectly placed in an exact motion. The Swords Bearers stood outside, their fingers pressed towards their ears, chattering invisibly to the air, as they watched about, aircraft blasting through the air, the rushing waves of the Viraigius river, soft green and laden with whitecaps, splashed upon the rocky coastline harmlessly below.

From here, in one of the pavilions, Denise Territurari stood atop the beautifully painted hardwood floor, as a woman of a fairly medium height, shockingly pretty red hair and exotic red pupils upon a fairly pale face placed her jewel encrusted earrings on, a small gold ring placed in the palm of her hand.

Ashili stood there, looking at Denise, wondering as she looked at her dear friend. Her hand on her chin, her forefinger tapping softly, as she peered at the Sword Bearer. Denise was clad in a pearl white gown, a thin white veil over her head, her hair long and wavy as usual, as the white smile came from behind the veil.

“What do you think?” Denise asked, getting up in all her graceful majesty.

“I don’t know. Something’s missing.” Ashili said.

“Oh, don’t be a tease.” Denise replied, flickering her fingers as she waited, sitting down softly. It was an hour till the actual wedding, but the excitement rushed through her blood with inane vivacity.

On the other side of the building, Remy was in his room getting ready. He had black pants and a white shirt. An all white long coat was over everything. Black cowboy boots with gold tips on the end. Black gloves covered both of his hands. His hair was combed back. He looked back at Sal. “So…what you think?” asked Remy.

“Looking good, looking good.” said Sal. Sal was wearing the same thing but it was all black. No white or any other color was in it.

Meanwhile…the empty chairs on Remy’s side were beginning to fill up. Edward and Selene were the first ones to sit down. Edward was wearing three-piece black suit with a dark blue tie. Selene was wearing a light blue dress. The next to come in were Remy’s father, Prince Calvin Saint Clair (http://www.freewebs.com/thetransylvania/Calvin%20Saint%20Clair.JPG) and mother, Princess Renee Barrilleaux-Saint Clair ( http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/ReneeBarrilleaux.jpg). They sat behind Edward and Selene. Lady Madeline Barrilleaux-Saint Clair (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/MadelineBarrilleaux.jpg), Remy’s sister, came in next and sat with her parents. Two of Remy’s buddies came in after Madeline. Colonel Wes Morell (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/Morell.jpg), in his face paint and black leather uniform, and Major Victor Storm (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/Storm.jpg), in a Dominion Dress Uniform of the Armed Forces (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/DDU.jpg) with medium weak blue on it and the symbol of the 18th Storm's Demons (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/18th.jpg). They sat down with Edward and Selene. They all start chatting with each other.

Authaulus entered the church, looking about with his helmet atop his ominous eyes, steel and stone covering his body from fingertip to fingertip, toe to toe in the unberable heat, the air conditioners softly pounding out cool icy breezes. He was talking to Saerus, who sat with eyes in wonder, nodding and wondering carefully on the situation before him - another Jenrakian married to an Ithrimm. While he trusted the Dominionites, Authaulus did not have such mercy for other foreigners - the riths, Jagites, Sandurians. He would make sure it was only the Dominionites who had wary power to assume marriage to a Jenrakian.

In heated debate, he looked at Saerus. "But brother, surely you understand the infallible logic behind my reasoning. If Adelena is raised upon the whim of Gelectriax, it could be that the cultist is planning something involving our destruction."

"He could ransom our nation."

"To whom? It would make no difference. He would terminate us all."

"I don't think Adelena has that agenda. Besides, it has been a while and yet nothing has occured. We are safe. Besides, today is a day of rejoice. Many years, and Denise has finally decided to marry."

"A note, but she is younger than Ashili when Ashili was getting married."

"It is not age, but vow."

"She loved you, you know. She had dear love in her heart for you."

"I was her teacher, and besides, I cannot give back a single emotion."

"Heh, under Nahk's watchful eye, and the eye of the government you were chained to nobility."

"Quite." Saerus chuckled.

JWolf, a dark man, walked into the church. He walked around the grounds of the church, adding his power to the Swords Bearers outside. He watched with the Sword Bearers, he watched because he has a feeling something was going to happen. He was ready to fight, if something did happen. He got tried of waiting and then heads inside.

A knife running across his skin, the blood seeped out carefully on Authaulus' arm, the thick mass of muscle shown, as the veins throbbed with the blood rushing down into the small water, the clear liquid turning a murky red tint. Looking, he placed his left arm armour back on - as his left arm bled freely, which he ignored - and sprayed it around lightly on the church. Standing in the doorway, a large beastial figure stood in the doorway, an immense golden chain holding a sword that could barely fit in the immense doorway, his body covered by a soft brown cloak, a hood over his head, as Saerus looked with surprise at the figure.

"I can't believe you're here. Is Denise this popular?" Saerus asked to himself and the stranger, the man's arms rippling with muscle as a tight silver band was wrapped around his left forearm.

The Count walked pass Authaulus and Saerus, he tipped his hat to them both as he passed. He watches Authaulus cut his arm as he pass them. Weird people. he said to himself. He stops as he hears around heartbeat, one at the door. He looks back with just his head, only looking with the left side of his face. He looked at the large figure, a walking tank of a man.

"Hello." The man said politely, looking at both sides of the seats, walking along the red and velvet carpet, as he reached Authaulus and Saerus, who sat down on the chairs.

Looking at both of them in the shadows cast evilly by his hood, his eyes a sharp green haze, almost piercing, he was slightly quiet for small while. "A while since I saw you, Authaulus. Have you been keeping yourself up to par with the others?" He asked coyly, as Authaulus chuckled.

"I've surpassed them, and I will surpass you, Agros." Authaulus threatened.

"Heh, we will see. I saw different during the War of Errors." Agros lashed back with equal fervour.

"Agros of the Golden Mountain. You're a legend. Why are you here?" Saerus asked.

"I am good friends with the bride." Agros replied. "She invited me."

The Count saw this man was a friend of Denise. He tipped his hat to him before heading over to Remy’s side. Then the smell of brimstone filled the back part of the church. Major General Max Kane appeared through the smoke in a black suit with his night colored hair tied into a pony tail. His demonic teeth as white as ever. His gray lifeless eyes looked around. His large muscled build frame moved as he walked over to Remy’s side.

"How goes the Gelectriax campaign?" Agros asked to Saerus, who shrugged. "Have you looked everywhere?"

"Of course."

"Viraigius Rivers?"

"Of course."

The Dominionites sat and talked to each other. Some of them have not seen each other in a couple of months. Calvin and Edward chatted about what was happening in the Dominion. They were brothers that have not seen each other in almost a year.

"Hmm...perhaps you have not searched the ruins of Agrodon?" Agros asked. He lived near them, and no search to his knowledge ever came to that region.

"No, we have not." Saerus replied truthfully.

"Then look there." Agros said.

It was getting close to the time Remy was need at the front. With an all white cowboy hat on, Remy heads towards his place. Sal following Remy, a black cowboy hat on his head. Remy hugged his mother and sister. Shook his father’s hand. He shook Wes’ hand and Victor’s hand. Then shook Kane’s hand.

"Take your hat off." Authaulus whispered.

“It is part of my suit.” said Remy. The Count just smiled because he had his hat on the whole time and nobody told him to take it off.

"Fine." Authaulus sighed, as he straightened himself once more. The choir began to hum a soft, slow tune, reverbrating and softly vibrating as their voices carried about the large sanctums of the church.

Remy just smiled at that. Sal, his best man, waited at the front. The others waited, too.

Agros stood at the front, looking about, his immense blade held straight and upright as from the end of the halls Denise in a draping white dress walked through and towards the front, her steps graceful as the veil over her face accentuated the place, as Aulocos stood behind Authaulus, his metal mask a dim shattering of golden sparkles.

“Nice.” said Remy under his breath. All eyes were on Denise as she walked towards the front. Calvin whispered something in his wife’s ear. “That’s my boy. He knows how to pick them.”

Remy’s eyes moved to the bride’s side and scanned for Denise’s uncle. He should be here for her. And he was. He moved his eyes back to his wife.

Denise stood beside Remy, her eyes bright and glamouring with anticipation as Authaulus stood in front of them, his finger trailing high. "It shall be done in Jenrakian custom." He looked at them both with equal emotionless monotony. Turning to Denise, whose face was covered in the thin silk veil, he asked her, "Are you ready?" He looked with piercing eyes behind his helmet, though nobody could notice.

"I'm ready." Denise said, her voice showing a soft glance of excited agitation. Agros had already taken his seat, looking as his giant sword was placed down beside him, a large space open for the immense figure.

Turning to Remy, Authaulus spoke in the same voice, his movements as sleek and exact as it was when he asked Denise. "Are you ready?"

Remy looked at Denise then back at Authaulus. “Yes, I’m ready.” he said.

"Sadrodahk Nahk diuusruun duun. Nharakhun deiamien. Diuusruun duun." Authaulus began chanting, the sound bouncing off the walls as the Temsplace's deep, deep voice reverbrated with utmost proficiency.

From outside, Gelectriax sat in line of one of the windows, nodding carefully. "Eigos ien (Interesting)..."

Remy listened to the chanting. The others listened too. JWolf on the other hand got a smell in his nose. The smell of blood he knows. Ah…you’re coming to play. he said to himself. He centered on that blood and it’s heart beat. He did without Gelectriax knowing it. If Gelectriax moved in a way that the Count did not like, the wolf would attack.

"I see you, Count. I can smell your hunger. But can you slate it?" Gelectriax whispered, cackling softly as he disappeared from the sight a watchful Sword Bearer. With a whisp of smoke and a slip of light, Gelectriax was gone, leaving no trace behind.

"Do you take this man to be your husband, until death do you part?" Authaulus asked Denise. Denise softly nodded.

"I do." She said in a soft whimper. Authaulus turned to Remy, his movements the same.

"Do you take this woman to be your wife, until death do you part?" Authaulus asked.

The Count smiled. Run all you want. he said to himself.

“I do.” said Remy, his voice strong and had pride in it.

"Present the first ring." Authaulus said, as Denise pulled out a small golden band thin but equally proportioned, crafted lovingly and softly hewn together with utmost precision in its simple form. Holding it out to Remy, she awaited her's.

Remy pulled out a gold band ring with four small blue diamonds on it. From the looks of it the ring was made from the best of the world. And it was. He winked at Denise under his white cowboy hat.

Denise never saw the wink, but the exchange of the first set was quick. Authaulus now proceeded to commence on the second rings. "Now the second pair." He echoed with authority, as Denise held out the second one - an odd ring of twisted shape and stature, a small blood-red ruby perched perfectly in its center, as the diamond lace on its surface sparkled with the bright shock of the stars at night.

Remy took out the second ring, another gold banded one. This time there was a large blue diamond in the center and four small rubies down the sides. Like the first one, it was made by the best in the world.

"Now the third ring." Authaulus demanded, as Denise held out the final ring, the ring to be worn, a beautiful delicate design, a dense pearly blue with a smoke-grey pattern painted skillfully on its band, a small tiny golden bead on its hearth around like a wrestling snake, a tiny emerald eye-shaped gem shining with brilliant radiance.

The third ring Remy took out was the Ring of Herrissian Karbulia, the ring of Ezklason-Zagos. A shining, purifying, beautiful ring, as glittering as sands of gold, as great and vibrant as the glass lighthouses of the shoreline. A priceless ring for Jenrakians. A everlasting symbol of Remy’s love.

Whatever surprise Denise could have held, she held it well. Authaulus looked at both, and then nodded. "I'm my blood," He said, "I declare you both man and wife. You may kiss the bride." He said to Remy.

Remy did not stop and wait. He moved into Denise and locked his lips with her lips.

The Church boomed in sound, reverbrating and shaking slightly in the noise. Authaulus sat down opon the stand, Aulocos sighing softly as Agros sat down beside Authaulus. Denise turned around in her glamour and began to trod out the doors.

Remy followed next to his wife. Calvin clapped softly, same with Edward and the Count. Wes and Victor slapped, too. Kane just looked like he wants to get out of that suit.

As the couple whizzed away, Agros was looking with wonder at what would happen during the next campaigns. "There are three avenues to attack from." Agros offered, wondering on the situation. "Though you could simply pull your army to do the brunt of the work." Agros offered.

“So…Denise, where are we off to?” asked Remy as they walked towards the door.

"My house." She said softly, a tired echo in her voice.

"Ah, but we are talking about scouting a continent twice the size of Asia." Authaulus reasoned. "The manpower and funding required to do that will not be worth."

"To let a heretic like him still live?" Saerus replied with fury.

"The logical move is to have bait. But with Alledrias dead, what is his next target?" Agros asked. Authaulus, Saerus and Aulocos all had the same answer.

"Adelena." They spoke with synonymity.

“Ah…to get away from everybody. To rest.” said Remy.

“The sicko was here.” said the Count walking up to Agros, Authaulus, Saerus and Aulocos. “Then he ran. He is playing games with us.” Behind the Count was Calvin, Wes and Victor.

"Who are you fellows?" Agros asked, raising his head.

“I’m Rocky the Great.” said the Count with a smile. “These are Larry, Curly and Moe”

"Ah, alright." Agros said, nodding. Saerus had a look of auspicious wonder. However, as means to torture Agros, he kept his mouth shut.

“You big man.” said the Count, sounding like somebody that had no learning. “What is your name, big man?”

"I prefer being called Agros. Agrodahk Kralliack." He iterated.

“Well, big man, Agros.” said the Count, playing dumb with this man. It all changed. “My real name is JWolf, Count JWolf. I like my women hot as ever, my alcohol as strong as Hell and my enemies always on their toes.”

”The white haired man behind me is my son, Prince Calvin Saint Clair. The father of Denise‘s husband.” said the Count. “The man in the face paint is Colonel Wes Morell and the other guy is Major Victor Storm.”

"Ah, very interesting." Agros said with no change in tone.

“So…Agros, where you been hiding?” asked the Count. “We could use somebody like you early.”

"I have been away. I do not like to intervene." Agros reasoned.

“We could use you. You are a big strong looking man.” said the Count. “I bet you could tear a tank into little pieces, right?”

"No, I can't." Agros said.

“Well, not into little pieces. Maybe if you have a large sword, you could cut it into two halves.” said the Count.

"Appearance is not everything." Agros said plainly.

“Well, you bore me.” said the Count. “Off to the hunt.” With that, he heads outside.

"He seems like a jolly fellow." Agros complied, as Authaulus chuckled slightly.

"Well, not everybody has been in isolation, Agros." He reasoned.

"Well, doesn't matter. How is your arm?" He asked Authaulus, as the Temsplace Lord shrugged. "Let's have a little friendly sparring." Agros offered, as the Temsplace nodded in reconcile.

“Jolly fellow?” asked Edward walking up. “He is a Sadist manic. Stay on his good side is all I can tell you.” With that, Edward walked over to Ashili and kissed her.

"How come people enjoy being sadistic? What venerability does it give?" Agros asked to Authaulus, who shrugged.

“Father has always been that way.” said Calvin. He walked over to Aulocos. “So, you are Denise’s uncle. Nice to meet you then.” he said.

"Nice to meet you." Aulocos said, as the rumbling from the other room echoed in the church. "Ignore them." He said calmly.

Authaulus swung his blade against Agros' body, but thel arge monstrous man grabbed it heavily and lunged the immense Temsplace above the ground, forcing him to plummet into the hard ground with a menacing thud. His large sword swinging about with utmost strength and ferocity, Agros swung down before the swift Holy Warrior twisted his blade up and smashed it against his, kicking up and swinging his cape in a twist of cloth and silk as the arm rushed with full force into Agros' chest. The hermit did nto reel back, only lift his sword above his head and swing down once more, as Authaulus turned and slashed.

“True.” said Calvin. He looked over at them for a few seconds. “I can’t believe they are sparring in the middle of a church.”

"Authaulus has permission. He is a Temsplace, after all." Saerus reasoned, as another shocking noise shook about with a thunderous wave.

Authaulus swung his sword onto Agros' covered flesh, but the hermit swung down on his blade with his own, cleaving the sword cleanly inhalf as the Temsplace leaped up and took the other blade, swinging skillfully in a beautiful pattern as the two sparred on in ferocity. Authaulus used the similiar attack against Saerus against Agros, his body in a hooked motion, swinging quickly and decisively with all his might, yet the hermit used his thick blade as a shield, sitcking it into the ground as he dodged and smashed his way through the Temsplace's thick armour. In a ripping of blood and bone, a small red trickle of blood was erected from Authaulus' helmet, as the large holy warrior fell down onto the floor, his fingers prickling softly.

"Get up, Authaulus. You are faking." Agros said.

“Oh…Saerus, my brother that came back from the dead.” said Calvin. “How is life treating you?”

"I don't know." Saerus said truthfully. "Apathy is not my main concern."

“Good thing then.” said Calvin. “Boredom is not a good thing to have in your life.”