Justin Silverblade

Justin clears his throat. "mi, mi, mi, mi... "happy birthday to you, Happy Birthday To You, Happy Birthday Gwaihir! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!" ~Have a good one buddy!~

wow... Great story! (Good things really do come in small packages) I'll have to read more of your stuff Celes.

~Seth, thanks. But I think you misunderstand, the last post was not the whole chapter. There's a bit of a way to go yet. Anyways, here's what else I've been able to edit (though I guess one's never really finished editing eh?)~ ~~~~~~~~ After Tekkorin had bathed and properly dressed, he found himself sitting in one of the chairs in his room, and setting his eyes out the open window. He watched as the sun began to fall from its high perch of noon. In the quiet of the room, he found his eyelids pressing down on him. Beginning to drift off to an afternoon doze his senses were swiftly startled when he heard the soft creak of his door. Practically jumping alert, the wizard caught the eye of the young boy again though much cleaner this time, peeking into his room. “Afternoon Rubin. By all means, come in.” Tekkorin beckoned for the young master to enter with his hand. Rubin, as quietly as he could, entered the room and for a while said nothing. With an air of curiosity he looked at the few bags that had been brought in from Tekkorin’s horse. They were plain saddlebags, and showed no sign of any nobility or magic. Unimpressed (though unwilling to look inside them), Rubin looked to Tekkorin in silent interest and turned his attention to the cane. It lay upon the bed, which was made, simply as before. Looking at it for a long while, he found his eyes fixating on the green emerald upon its top. It sparkled as the child gently gripped it and brought it to the blanket of sunlight that lay stretched across the bed. With a sudden childlike innocence he flicked it. When nothing resulted, save for a slight pain in his finger, he replaced it to the corner of the bed without a sound. He caught the eyes of the wizard following him, and fixated on the old man’s face for a long while, as if looking for some secret marking or sign. “Are you really a wizard?” he asked finally. “Are you really a great swordsman?” “Yes!” Rubin snapped back quickly. He still had the sword-stick in his belt, and at this comment he adjusted it as if to confirm that he indeed was a great swordsman. “But you don’t look like a wizard. Not to me.” At this Tekkorin put his booted feet up onto a nearby table. “Oh? And just what does a wizard look like?” “Well,” Rubin thought for a moment, scratching his head in quiet contemplation. “They wear hats.” He stated finally. “You got me there,” Tekkorin sighed. “I don’t wear a hat anymore.” “You used to?” Tekkorin nodded when he saw a look of hope encompass the boy’s face. “Yes, I used to. A big tall pointy one, but it was too heavy for me, so I got rid of it.” Rubin sat down suddenly, resting on the stone floor cross-legged. “Well, I suppose you could be a wizard. But they use magic, and have staffs that glow.” Uncomfortable, the boy removed the sword-stick from his belt and put in on the floor next to where he was sitting. “Hmm… My cane is all out of glow right now,” said Tekkorin. “What about magic?” Rubin asked, finally getting to what he wanted to see. “Are you out of that too?” “Come here.” Rubin got up and walked to the wizard. When he was right next to him, his hands were fidgeting with his tunic in anticipation. Any moment now, the wizard would show him some dazzling lights, or reveal to him a secret. Maybe he would even transform something! After he had been standing there for a few minutes, Tekkorin raised his right hand next to Rubin’s ear and, giving it a quick pinch, revealed a golden coin. “Ta-da!” Rubin eyed the coin for a minute and walked back to his place on the floor. He folded his arms and plopped down again abruptly; a grimace appeared on his face. “That’s not magic, that’s a fool’s trick. You had the money in your hand the whole time. Jackie’s tried getting me with that a couple times.” “Oh has she now,” Tekkorin asked. “Well maybe she’s a great sorceress.” “Jackie?!?” Rubin asked with a doubtful look. “Naw, she’s too ugly. Maybe a witch though.” An enormous laughter set forth from Tekkorin. Rubin was quite put off by it, and couldn’t understand what had started it. For a moment, he thought the old man was in danger. Tekkorin soon quieted down though, and mentioned to the boy, “don’t let Jackie hear you say that.” Now Rubin laughed a little, and then returned his attention to his sword-stick beside him. He picked it up and stood. Gripping it awkwardly he took a moment to slay some imaginary beings. Tekkorin watched his stance, and his wide swings. After several ‘evil villains’ had been killed, Rubin noticed the wizard staring at him again. “Where do wizards come from?” he asked A great sigh followed the question. Tekkorin’s response was vague. “Here and there, although some come from nowhere.” “Huh?” “We’re around,” stated Tekkorin. Scrunching up his face in thought, Rubin nodded, giving up that particular quest. “You’re strange. I’m leaving.” The boy exited as quietly has he had entered, and just as curiously. He stopped for a moment and looked the door itself up and down. Satisfied that it was indeed the same as it was when he entered, Rubin left and closed the door behind him lightly. After the soft sound of the closed door Tekkorin soon fell to the afternoon doze that had been delayed by the young child.

This is a birthday poem I wrote for the story I'm writing (Call of the Tides). It's (supposed to anyway) really set the mood for the oncoming text/chapter. I'd thought I'd share: Celebratory Night Years go by, As days sleep. With joy this day, We all shall weep. Laughter brings The light of heart We toast to him This young upstart! Drink friends, and be happy For we celebrate tonight! Eventful night Party ways. Have happy life, And good long days. Hear the words, And find the air. Sail the notes, Without care! Sing friends, and be merry For we celebrate tonight! Express now, Regret later. Tonight’s the night To you we cater! Clap your hands Tap your shoe, Gather ‘round The night’s not through! Dance friends, and be joyful For we celebrate tonight! From a boy, This good man, Grows and lives; Does all he can. To you, lad, I drink an ale! Tonight we lift You high, and hail Lift him friends, tall and true! It’s he we celebrate tonight! Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 4/9/02 9:24:11 pm

Justin takes a look at his watch. "Well Seth, that'll do for a few more... minutes." ~Good work, keep writing!~

Much too Often I have seen the stars, Much too often. In soft prayer I look above, And wish them to soften, The blows of life. To bring to me fate, Of good news. In their great, glowing glory, Point to me and choose, That wanted path. I look above and ask, Take me there. I’ve not the will to walk myself. I look on and stare, And sit, and sigh. I have seen the stars, Wished a word. Wasted my time on luck, With a thought too absurd To speak aloud. I have wasted hopes, Dreams to be, Upon the stars so great. Silence, their reply to me, Much too often. Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 4/8/02 10:04:31 pm

Chapter One: Homecoming A beautiful spring morning started the twenty first of April. The sun, a golden light above, sent out its decree that no cloud would venture near it this day. And whilst the blue above stood ever clear, the brilliant green below bowed in a slight breeze. The flowers were in full bloom, and brightened the dirt road that traveled the kingdoms of the south. A velvety purple, a deep royal blue, and a light crimson welcomed weary wanderers in the lands of Litheme. It had long been a peaceful place, ruled by worthy leaders and maintained by hard-working followers. It rested its wondrous green acres against the western mountains of Duiren. These mountains stretched all the way up to the north, and were known most commonly as the Great End of the West. The lands were divided and ruled mutually by many long-ago warriors and others of born right. A castle past the green fields of Hurz, and just around the bend from the small town of Jardain housed both a man of born right and woman with both the passion and past of a warrior. Slowly an old man had traveled upon a light horse, through the fields of Hurz, in no hurry. With even less rush he did make his way through Jardain, stopping at the local tavern the night before for a round of ale and a soft bed. And now, he sung a traveler’s tune, making sure to enjoy the sight of the bend as he trotted ‘round towards the castle. “Hey ho! Ho hey! I see the sights, And breathe the heights, And travel along the dusty way. “I’ve gone there, and seen the stone, I’ve jumped there, and known the sky, I’ve slept there, and felt the earth, “Hey ho! Ho hey! I’m never done, I walk with sun, And where I’ll end, I cannot say. “Hey ho! Ho hey!” the man raised his voice as the castle came into view from around the hill. “Open the gates, if you may!” A broad smile came across the man’s face as the castle came closer upon him. He urged his horse further, on a slightly faster step. “Tell the Lady Aria that she as a visitor. An old friend!” This time the guard had heard him, and there was a rustle upon the ramparts. As the old man approached, he headed not too inward so that his head needn’t stretch too much to look up. He absently ran his hand through his long un-kept hair trying to, although in vein, arrange the grey to hide behind the black. Giving up, he got down from his horse and straightened his traveler’s robes. He heard still, steps high above him, and so waited patiently. In the distance, a bluebird dived down at an unlucky prey. Within moments it returned to the sky successfully, a worm in its mouth. Wriggling in a monumental (and indeed life dependant) struggle, the worm desperately tried to escape. In midair, to put an end to the difficulty, the bird swung the worm up and caught it again within its beak in a grip twice as tough. The old man watched as the bird flew around the hill and down the path, it’s journey successful. Putting his hand to his equally grey beard, the man looked up again. “Well, she had better have a banquet ready for this wait!” he shouted up with a laugh. He went back to his horse, and untied the cane that was upon the near empty saddlebags. Looking like a polished bit of gnarled wood, it was decorated on its top with a small green emerald. It supported the old man’s right limp as he walked off the dirt road to have a seat on the grass. Closing his eyes he felt the sun fall upon his dirty face. The grass was still a bit damp from the morning’s dew, making it feel fresh in his fingertips. “Tekkorin Karros! Is that you!?” rang a female voice from atop the ramparts The words brought joy into the old man’s face again, and he yelled upwards, his eyes still closed. “Indeed it is my lady!” “Well the Gods sure do present surprises!” Came down the warm voice. “I haven’t seen you in years!” “Nor I you! Eight to be exact; eight years. After such travels, your kingdom is a welcome sight to these sore eyes. But m’lady are you to let me sit here on the wet grass, to be-” The old man stopped when he heard laughter atop the stone. “Of course not, Tek,” came the voice. Then there was more activity high above, and with a commanding boom, like thunder, the large wooden gates began to open. With a small groan, and a great heave of his arms, Tekkorin raised himself off the cool grass and opened his eyes to see several men exiting the castle. They were dressed in blue tunics with the noble crest woven by their hearts: a sword lying against a shield. They found their way to his horse in a slow wander, and led it inside. Tekkorin walked slowly towards the entrance, letting his boots kick up the dirt into small swirls. He watched as they did not settle, but rather float towards the castle wall and attempt to climb it. Stretching thinner and thinner, they would eventually disappear just in time for the next swirl to begin climbing. This was all interrupted when he looked up to see a woman he knew well standing before him, at the other side of the entrance way. Dressed in a light blue dress from neck to toe, she was a tall vision of beauty. Her hair, falling straight to her mid-back was a blonde with only a few hints of a light brown. It was finely combed and pulled behind her ears. Save only two small scars, upon her right cheek and the palm of her left hand, her skin was fair. The winds had etched to her face less than forty years. Her green eyes gave away her thought and mood; and they were shining now. “Lady Aria Nathiel of the province of Jardain, it is a pleasure.” Tekkorin bowed low, making a sweeping gesture with his left hand. A slight giggle emerged from Aria’s throat. “Tek, you know you needn’t be so formal. Come, give us a hug.” Tekkorin found his way to Aria and embraced her in a long hug. Behind her, several yards away in the courtyard, Tekkorin noticed a small boy peeking at them from behind one of the many bushes. His short straight blond hair and dirty face disappeared as suddenly as it was there. Returning his attention to Aria, they both let go and smiled a while at each other. The vision of the boy’s face brought upon him a sudden realization of his own nature. “I am sorry that I come not cleaner nor in any good clothes. Rags, I find, are the best way to travel.” Aria laughed again, and began to walk with Tekkorin away from the entrance and into the outer courtyard. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you cleaned up in no time. I’ll have one of the maids warm some water for you in one of the guest rooms. How long are you here for?” “As long as you and Peter will have me, m’lady.” Tekkorin stated matter-of-factly. “I am sorry for just dropping by, unannounced.” The two entered the outer courtyard of the castle. The dirt road actually continued up to the castle several dozen meters away (where it met a kind of balcony, and several chairs and tables before the castle) and also branched off down the right side of the stone building. Tekkorin could see the tail of his horse being led down the latter, likely to the stables. Between the walls and the castle lay a grassy opening, decorated by many flower bushes and hedges. The courtyard was filled with many of the colours that had lined the road of his trip. “Of course, and we’ll be happy to have you around for a great while. You’ve no schedule? No secret meetings of magic?” Aria asked. Tekkorin was about to answer, when he heard a slight gasp from behind a hedge to his left. He saw Aria smile and watched as her eyes darted to the same hedge. Returning his thoughts to the conversation, Tekkorin answered. “A wizard always has a schedule.” Another gasp from the hedge, and the word ‘wizard’ echoed by a small young voice. “Any good wizard anyways,” Tekkorin continued. “But mine is delayed for now, and keeps me here in the lands of Litheme for some time. So I thought I’d drop by with greetings.” As the two walked, they could hear their not-so silent stalker creep up beside them within the greenery. “Where is the Lord of the house Aria? I had much expected him to greet me alongside you.” They stopped to let Tekkorin admire one of the hedges. It was shaped into a lion, but had not been trimmed for several days, and so had begun to lose its figure. “He is away on business. The lords of the realm are gathering for a meeting. He should be back early next month.” Aria answered. Wearing a mock expression of disgust, Tekkorin scoffed. “Bah! A month? That’s no way to treat a lady, or a kingdom!” Aria gave a confused look for a moment, until she caught the wizard’s eyes darting to the rustling bushes. She stifled a laugh and let him continue. “That’s disgusting m’lady, and I mean really. Who’s to protect you if something should go wrong? Who’s he left in charge? Where’s the man of the house?” Tekkorin slowly raised his voice as he went on, and finally he was cut off, finishing that last sentence, when a small boy of no more then twelve years jumped out of the bushes. “I am!” said the boy defiantly. His face was covered in dirt, as were his hands and tunic. Tiny sticks and leaves were tangled in his hair. “I’ll defend her!” “Ah! And who are you?” Tekkorin asked, leaning on his cane, and bending low to make eye contact with the boy. “I’m Rubin Nathiel, great swordsman of the south-west.” He declared pulling from his belt a stick. He held it out like a long sword, wrapping both hands around it awkwardly. “Rubin Nathiel!” Tekkorin said, straightening his body upright again. “Well, it has been a while hasn’t it. Good to see you again young tike.” With his free hand, Rubin wiped his nose, and looked up at the wizard. “You know me?” “He knew you as a young one in my arms,” Aria put in. “Before you were a great swordsman,” added Tekkorin. “Oh,” said Rubin, sheathing his would-be sword. “Well then, I guess it’s ok. But you be careful ‘round here.” Aria noted that one of the maids had exited the castle and given an angry stare Rubin’s way. “Look’s like you’re caught, Rubin. Best get back to your studies. Tell Jackie to prepare a guest room, and ready some hot bath water.” Rubin sighed when he saw the maid beckoning him to follow her. “Alright mom.” He began to walk off with a bold swagger, until the maid became impatient with him and walked briskly to his side and hurried him in. “Ok, ok! I’m going.” Aria then guided Tekkorin to two of the many chairs just outside another pair of oaken doors (which now stood ajar), which led to the inside of the castle buildings. The chairs were wooden, but a thick wool blanket warmed their seats. Tekkorin took his time to sit, leaning heavily on his cane once more to aid his descent. “So,” he said, once they had both been comfortably arranged. “Peter is away yelling with the other noble’s eh? I trust he is well?” “He does all right,” Aria replied. “Although I do wish he spend less time in the training halls. He likes to spend his time remembering his days of old. Many a time I’ve found him on the ramparts showing off to one of our lot.” A chuckle emerged from Tekkorin. “My lady, he is not the only one who has ever shown off. If these worn memories recall correctly, you did quite a lot of that yourself.” “True, Tek, but at least I was good at it. What about you? You did not have that limp last time you traveled this way.” Aria asked, her eyes reflecting concern. Her gaze turned to the ramparts ahead of them; the morning guard was changing to the afternoon shift. Another glance was to the sun to find it was indeed now reaching the true heights of the sky. Tekkorin followed her gaze let out a small sound of thought before continuing. “Nor did I have the knowledge that came with it, my darling. But things change, Aria, it has been eight years. I take hits harder then I used to.” Aria just nodded. “Jackie will be happy to see you,” she said plainly after a moment of thought. Tekkorin laughed a bit, “Jackie? Is that old gal still around?” “You bet your grey bloom’n hair I am Tekkorin!” came a voice from behind them. When Tekkorin looked back he saw, Jackie the maid. Although she looked not as old as the wizard who looked at her, rumors flew of her age, among other things… “And I could still mop the floor with ya!” “I bet you could, Jackie. Do you still do that: mop the floor? Or do you just scare all the old men who come to your Lady’s doorstep?” Tekkorin asked with a wink. A bit put off by the wizard’s way, she had to take a moment to recall her wits. “Aye, I do. And it’s better work then you adventuring wizards, off inta whatnot. Good honest work, say’s I.” Tekkorin nodded. “Well that’s that then. If it’s honest work say’s you, then it must be. Eight long years.” The maid laughed and stepped out onto the balcony. “Aye, and too short at that. Gimme a hug ya lazy thing.” By the time Tekkorin had risen from his seat, the maid had already crossed over and caught the man in a great squeeze. After they had finished, she turned to Aria with a slight bow. “The guest room’s ready, and the bath water’s warmed, m’lady.” A great smile had crossed Aria’s face by this time, “Alright, thank you Jackie.” After her maid had left, she turned to Tekkorin. “You remember where it is? The same room as you had last time: through these doors, down the hallway, and up the south tower.” “Thank you m’lady. If you will excuse me.” “Of course.” Aria watched as the wizard walked to the doors, “and Tek, it’s good to see you again.”

The title is subject to change. I think I'll wait to see just how the end turns out in my mind before I give it a final title. This is a story I have been working on for some time now, and I wanted to get it far ahead before I started posting. Well, I'm impatient. It's geared to be a long story, and will take me quite a while to finish, but I'd like to share some of it as I go with you guys. I have left out the prologe for reasons of my own. It is not horribly important, (not right now anyway). I'll be posting what I've got done when I've time to edit it. The story is divided into 2 parts, the first of which is titled: The Lands of Litheme Enjoy!

Justin thought for a great while, his face twisting to the whim of his thoughts. As the group threw around their initial thoughts he wondered about the competency of the good King Millas. Finally, Balladore began to ask for a vote, and the time came to ask for Justin's say. "Well," he started, "I'm not sure. I've only a measure of the skill of the group by our last adventure with that, squid, tentacle, thingy. I don't know how well, or-" here he looked at Jheric and Balladore, "even exactly how you fight. But we don't exactly have time to spare, and, if their team is anything like the guards the led them in here... Well I could beat 'em all with one hand tied behind my back. So if you magic, uh, user/caster guys can do all that again, I say fight." Justin took out his sword, and gave it a couple practice swings. "Time is of the essence, so I say let's go for it. Let's fight'em."

Justin was walking by, to the Cabaret room to grab an ale, when a striking blue caught his eye. Doing a triple take, the would-be warrior found a beautiful young lady applying to the Pen. Taking a moment to fix his black hair, Justin walked in and introduced himself. "Welcome to the Pen, m'lady. I hope the Elder's don't keep you waiting too long." ~It's always good to see new faces around here, Adelaide. Good luck on your application!~

Luxani, some good work, in my humble opinion. I hope you decide to stick around (while our elders take forever to get the paperwork written up), because you'd be a welcome addition here, that's for sure. I hope you'll continue your story in the meantime, and good luck on your application.

And in the corner... a frog gave a croak.

I chatted with ya, Seth, so you know my bit. Very good and I do hope you hurry the other posts along.

*Gulp* "Aww... I... feel... so..." /me holds back the tears. ~It expresses itself nicely, Annael. Good work!~

Silverblade listen's intently, and a slight "Aw..." escapes his lips. ~I like it Cyril!~

Happy Easter everyone! Hope you found lots of eggs, and didn't eat TOO much chocolate.

Thanks rev, I'll put those suggestions to thought. (I can never get the beat right, so I just try to make it comfortable to read).

WHOO HOO! Band goes... all... the... way. SCORE!

Not exactly perfect poetry, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing, and this is what came out. (If it's good, then so shall all else. If it's not too hot, then we call it a 'warm up'. ). Either way, I hope you enjoy. Forgive me, Lady Luck, My sweetest sorrows go out To please your brightly face. If I have spoke, or act, or done To hurt you, let me plead my case! I meant not what I said. Please Forgive that speech when sanity flew Never again will I cast you aside Woe to he who knows not you. Woe to those who know you still And are forbidden from your mind. For the wrath that sits above you, Loves you still, but to me, is not kind. Forgive me, Lady Luck, For while you hatred for me grows, And you do not come out to play, Forced am I to meet that wrath: Father Fate shall deal with me another way! Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 3/23/02 5:27:33 pm

Justin reads the posts and suddenly feels real good inside. "Aww..." He gives everyone a big group hug, just for the heck of it.

VERY cool Tralla! Wow... I can't wait for more of your work! Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 3/23/02 3:54:37 pm

Just a little thing I came up with. The theme was based on some reading I did here, and it kind of inspired me. The day begins, the sun rises. We greet, meet, and live. The sun sets, the day ends. So is created a day. The day begins, the sun rises. We learn, teach and understand. The sun sets, and the day ends. So is created an enlightened day. The day begins, the sun rises. We love, create, and share. The sun sets, and the day ends. So is created a happy day. The day begins, the sun rises. We hate, kill, and die. The sun sets, and the day ends. So is created a bad day. The day begins, the sun rises. I choose my life, and my way. The sun sets, and the day ends. So is created, my day. So was yesterday. So will be tomorrow. Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 2/28/02 4:39:27 pm

Still on the day theme, I thought up this little one. Just a first draft to come quick out of my head. The sun still sets. I don’t like it. It can not be! Just one more hour… The moon still rises. I’m not done, I must go on! Just one more minute… The sky still readies. It’s not fair, It deceived me! Just one more second… The dawn breaks. New day is born. New moments, Seconds, minutes, hours. Time waits for no one. Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 2/28/02 4:39:05 pm

Justin walks in, a thoughtful look on his face. "I've been reading a lot more then I've been posting, but I'm here. Hope to get some material going real soon."

Jadus fell with a bewildered look, and a hushed "urgh". His eyes immeadiately went to his opponent, and saw that Lance was going for his fallen sword. Before getting up, Jadus extended his arm and fired his hand crossbow. The bolt found it's way to Lance's weapon-shoulder throwing back the warrior's grip on the new-found sword but not his concentration with Jadus. Jadus quickly rose, keeping his concentration on his new found opponent, rather than his sword.. This? From a Confederate spearman? Jadus brought his hand to his face, and felt blood. His mind went to thoughts. Impressive. You have earned my blood. Now let us see if you are worth my sweat. Catching Lance's eyes dart towards the sword on the ground, the outside sounds of war had once again begun to disappear to Jadus. There was only two warriors on the battlefield he was concerned about now. Himself, and this... this... spearman. Jadus reajusted his feet, and found something rolling under his foot. A spear! What a wonderful irony. I would wonder if he could wield my weapon as well as I could his. Jadus ducked his body with lightning speed. His hands gripped the spear, caked in mud, and hurried towards his opponent. Lance was no slower. As soon as Jadus diverted his attention to the ground, Lance went for the sword. His off hand gripped it as swiftly as possible. The two would come together in an attack furiously. Jadus took as much offence as possible. Stabbing and turning to attack with a quick gauntleted backhand, but Lance was quick with his defence, and parried the various stabbing techniques, and only being nicked by the occasional physical punches and knee blows. Eventually Jadus landed a blow, striking to the same arm as the bolt penetrated. Lance staggered back, and saw naught but a left fist coming towards him. A blow that would no doubt lead to a consecutive death blow. In an effort to defend himself Lance swung the sword at his side. Jadus did not act to defend it; his keen eyes noted that it wasn't a strong enough blow to penetrate his armor. But... it didn't have to. By whatever powers that be; Gods of Fate, Ladies of Luck, or Masters of Skill and Timing, Lance's attack to Jadus found the cut in his armor that the shadow had caused previously. Even further still, it found the open wound there, and furthered the damage. "Argh!" Jadus' fist turned and came down on Lance's arm. Quickly and in easy motion, Jadus gripped the arm and twisted, nearly breaking it to cause the disarming of the sword. Jadus backed up, causing a momentary pause in the battle. Lance had time to check his arm, the other blows landed on him, and the efficiency of his abillites. Jadus examined the damage done. The sword still cut within him, and Jadus removed it slowly, and replaced it with his left arm, feeling for the damage that was concealed by his armor. He found it, and offered the information of damage done to his opponent with only an angry look. His eyes began show fire behind them. He was displeased with the run of 'luck' this spearman was having. Wretch! My blood has been earned, as has my sweat... Jadus continued his thoughts out loud: "I would know the name of the warrior who begs my skill, before I run him through."