[center][h2]Keregar[/h2]Warlord of Kereg-Kor, Husband of Xaelia[sub][@Ellion][/sub] and Nadia[sub][@Vesuvius00][/sub]
[b]Interacting with:[/b] Xaelia[sub][@Ellion][/sub] and Nadia[sub][@Vesuvius00][/sub][/center][hr]Hitvich stood ready for his unarmed father with Warhammer in hand. One blow would be enough to break bones. But to do that, he’d have to hit his father. The rain turned the ground to soft mud filled with traitorous gravel. About 15 feet away Keregar stood. The silence was taunting the first twin. He charged, forgetting his brother behind him in a bid to finish it quickly. Or try at least. Keregar watched as his child charged. Foolish.

Hitvich jumped high up, lifting his hammer overhead.
Keregar made a small sidestep.
The hammer landed next to him.
He slammed an elbow into Hitvich.
The first twin fell into the mud.

Herstvich looked on from a distance. His brother was barely moving now. He saw him wincing in pain. From the twins, Herstvich favored a calculated approach more. He moved sideways and his father followed suit. Like two starved predators they kept their eyes on each other as they moved in circles. Herstvich kept his weapons, two war axes, up. The tension was ramping up. Both Drakkans were waiting for the other to move.

Herstvich moved first, throwing his one axe as a diversion.
Keregar dodged but took his eyes off Herstvich.
Herstvich dashed forward.
A few feet before he reached his father he dropped into a slide.
The mud did nothing to break his momentum.

Keregar didn’t even have to look. He knew his sons well enough. Herstvich always went for the low blow if he could. He grabbed the boy by the throat before he could finish the slide. Now, like some animal caught, he was squirming. In shock he had dropped his other axe. Though Hitvich had just risen. Mud mixed with blood painted his face as he swung his hammer once more. Though Keregar caught it mid-swing. [b]“Is this what my blood has to offer?”[/b] The old Drakkan said. He slammed Herstvich into the handle. Shattering the wood and breaking the weapon. He then threw one twin against the other. Sending both sliding through the mud.

Both twins got up. Their weapons were gone and their father hadn’t even drawn his yet. One look at each other and they knew what they had to do. Both began to slam into the ground below. The mud flung away, revealing the solid earth below. With every hit, small cracks formed below Keregar. The cracks grew and grew. Jagged rocks began to spout sideways from the cracks. The Warlord was sinking into the ground. A crown of rocks surrounded him. Herstvich stopped pounding. Instead, he reached to the water from the rain. Pushing them together and cooling them down. Steam burst forth from the crater crowned by jagged rocks. As the rocks of ice fell from the heavens, more and more steam flew up from the crater. Until Herstvich, using as much power as he could, pushed all the rain in the air together, froze as much of it as he could and threw it into the crater.

Steam exploded from the crater. Both twins collapsed onto their knees in the mud. Exhausted from the pull of their magic. [b]“You think the explosion got him?”[/b] Herstvich asked. [b]“I think it hurt him.”[/b] Was the answer he got from his brother.

Steam continued to rise from with the crown of jagged rocks. Shrouding the crater in a fog. For several counts, it was completely quiet. Save for the rain still falling down. It would appear even thunder was waiting for something to happen. From within the fog, a faint red glow appeared. One that grew brighter more and more. Forming the shape of armor. A few rocks jutting out shattered as if they were hit by twenty hammers at once. Making an opening from the crater. Out from the fog marched Keregar. His metal armor glowing red-hot. The drops of rain that fell on it evaporated immediately. Though the metal was not in one piece. Hot shards of metal kept falling off. He looked at his sons. Bleeding and exhausted in the mud. Their weapons shattered or scattered. Then he looked behind him. To the crater crowned by stone, filled with steam. [b]“You did well.”[/b][hr]Varzar listened attentively at Xaelia as she told him about the many areas of Gemmenia. To him it sounded like a green, beautiful paradise. A place of true wonder and beauty. Xaelia’s stories only confirmed those ideas. As she spoke of evergreen trees and large, blankets of pure, white snow he almost wanted to go then and there. He was hanging on every word she said. Then Nadia spoke. A warmth grew in the young Drakkan. She described something else entirely. Not greatness, not really. But a comfy place. A sort of place with a house and hearth. A simple life. One where you just worked the land and lived your life.

But then she began to cry. Varzar, at the sight of her tears, felt like he suddenly woke up. For a moment he was surprised. But then he realized what was happening. She missed home. Quickly he grabbed one of the few chairs still in one piece and placed it behind Nadia, letting her sit down. He also took off his own leather jacket and placed it over Nadia’s shoulders. After which he kneeled down before her and took her hands. [b]“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I asked.”[/b] He softly said. [b]“It’s okay. I’m sorry you’re… here.”[/b] He kept silent for a moment. [b]“Maybe… maybe someday you can show me your home.”[/b] He didn’t know what he was saying. That was for sure. He was far too young to fully understand what it meant. But he wasn’t a kid entirely. He might not know the full picture, but in his eyes you could see that he knew what he said was a big, grave thing.

The moment couldn’t go on forever though. As another Drakkan, slender and lean appeared behind Xaelia. With a flick of his hand he took the blade she kept behind her and swirled around her. Keeping one hand on her lower back as he pulled her close to him. [b]“Well, well, what do we have here?”[/b] he said, as he softly pushed the blade against the middle of the bare part of her chest and let It slowly trail downwards. Making sure he didn’t cut her. [b]“You must be a feisty one.”[/b] He continued as he turned his head to whisper, close, into her ear.[b] “Hiding a knife like that. Imagine what father would say about that.”[/b] The trailing knife reached fabric. Though it did not dissuade the Drakkan. In fact, he pushed a little harder down and began to cut the dress. Slowly. [b]“But what if I didn’t say a thing?”[/b] he said, with his hot breath on her neck. He planted a small kiss there too before he pulled his face back to look her into the eyes. [b]“Maybe, as a little reward I could get a [i]better[/i] taste of you?”[/b] he said with a sly smile.