Neale was silent for a short while after hitting his head, but he managed to keep his eyes open. It wasn't long before Captain Copp was in the room, but his presence didn't change much. Noru leaned over Neale's head and glared at him, eye to eye. The injured Captain cringed and reached up with his good arm, pushing Noru's head back.

	"Unsettling," He grunted, "But good to see you again, Lieutenant." Noru fixed his hair and straightened his uniform. 

	"You're lucky that we found you," The medic sighed. Zay slapped his right hand on top of Neale's armor a couple of times, like he was some kind of a dog.

	"Yeah, lucky as a domesticated Venbu. Luckier still, that you survived a trip through Baeshri hills," Zay cut in. Neale looked at him quietly for a moment. He shaped his mouth to sound a few vowels, but it was to no avail. Then his eyes went wide and he pushed himself upright, letting his feet hang over the edge of the bunk. Zay took a seat nearby and waited for the man to compose himself.

	"Where am I?" Neale asked sternly.

	"You're on board Caravan Centaurus. We're on-route to Marrenfall, currently traveling via the eastern Trading route. A simple supply check, estimated to last 7 days time. I'm Captain Copp. On board are six lieutenants..." Neale looked at Zay, patiently waiting for him to explain further details. But when Centaurus' Captain went silent, he seemed worried. Zay adjusted himself and crossed his arms. "Expecting more?" He whispered.

	"No... No, I don't know what I was expecting." Neale leaned into his hand with a groan. "How long was I out?"

	"A few hours," Noru chimed in. "We found you with a severe shoulder injury. You barely had any blood left in you by the time you'd reached us. That fact that you're still alive is a miracle." Neale quickly moved his hand to feel along his right shoulder. It felt normal, minus the scar running along his clavicle.

	"Huh. I would have expected to lose that arm after pushing myself so much."

	"What happened?" Zay asked eagerly. Neale lowered his good arm back down to his side.

	"What didn't happen?" Neale grunted.

	"Helpful," Zay quipped. Neale glared at him and cleared his throat.

	"I wasn't expecting to be [i]interrogated [/i]straight away. Who are you, anyways?" He looked around the room at the knights, both sleeping and awake. "I don't recognize anyone except for Noru. And the name [i]Copp[/i] doesn't ring any bells."

	"No, why would it?" Zay hissed through a snicker.

	"Arcadia is a big place, Sir," Noru insisted.

	"Not big enough, evidently." Neale grunted. Zay rose an eyebrow at his comment, but shrugged it off right afterwards. The newcomer stared at Zay, waiting for a formal introduction. Centaurus' Captain rolled his eyes.

	"Captain Zay Copp. Noru's already told me about you, so skip the pleasantries. What I'd [i]like[/i] to know is what happened to your arm, and your Caravan." Neale puffed a bit of air through his nose and put on a fake smile.

	"Some guy with a big hammer [i]smashed it[/i], right after killing everyone on my Caravan." Zay and Noru didn't react. Neale's smiled melted away and he leaned forward.

	"That wasn't a joke."

[center][h1][color=ed1c24]* * *[/color][/h1]
[i]Earlier in the day, 9:14 AM[/i]
Smor'Gen'Blok[/center]

	The Ruliman Plateau reached high into the sky, reflecting beams of sunlight back up into the clouds from the shining quarters of Warchief Lu'Li'Po. Her tented hut was adorned with gemstones and glimmering fabric from origins unknown, and stretched wide across the highest point of Smor'Gen'Blok. It looked more like a miniature fortress than a simple [i]war tent,[/i] but from within, all national dealings took place under the Warchief's guidance. It wasn't nearly as heavily guarded as one might've imagined, but the men and women inside were a formidable force to be reckoned with. If anyone was foolish enough to run into the [b]War Tent[/b] with intent to cause harm, they would find their last moments [i]extraordinarily unpleasant.[/i]

	The two closest peaks, sitting only a few hundred meters beneath the top of the Ruliman Plateau, were nestled closely into the sides of the mountain, meshed in like the [i]shoulders[/i] of Smor'Gen'Blok's great Nation. On one of these surfaces, the largest of the three, was where the [b]Berserker's Shrine[/b] stood, structured even more prominently than the Nation's more important quarters. Stone dividers cradled each-other closely, resulting in a multi-layered outer wall that hugged the outer edges of the plateau. A single [i]wide open[/i] arch-way lead into the inner sanctum of the shrine, where the Berserker's [b]Holy Flame[/b] burned indefinitely with various yellow hues. The outer walls of the shrine held Smor'Gen'Blok's most frightening warriors, as well as relics of untold power that only the Lok'Sha could wield with any success. If there were a pivotal point of interest within the practical stronghold of Ruliman, it would have been right there. The open gate and widen open training area were a deceptive [i]execution grounds[/i] where many arrogant Lok'sha met their ends. It was also here, atop the second highest point in Smor'Gen'Blok, where the previous Warlord met his end at the hands of Arcadia's Late General, [b]Father Maxie Tremm[/b]. At the expense of his life, the grand Paladin Father brought an end to Koal'o with the aid of his follow knights, bringing an end to the second great war atop the peaks of their enemy's Nation.

	To the opposite side of the highest peaks, resting dormant on the third highest stretch of flat rock, were the ruins of Smor'Gen'Blok's devastating weapon, the [b]Fwoo'Sha[/b]. This artifact no longer holds any importance, present only as a remenant of Smor'Gen'Blok's once oppressive power, and a reminder to refrain from challenging the world's combined might. The Fwoo'Sha's history remains shrouded is mystery. Nobody quite understand how it was mounted atop Ruliman. It wasn't built by the Lok'Sha, that much was certain, but its complex inner workings spoke volumes of an ancient technology capable of wiping out droves of soldiers in a single blast. The now misshapen husk of stone was torn to pieces by the forces of Marrenfall during the second great war. The Lok'sha will never again be able to use its fierce power to defend their Nation, or see to the complete control of Ruliman's surroundings.

	These three peaks, the [b]Lok'Tri'Sha'ra[/b], signified Smor'Gen'Blok's resolute composure. Massive staircases, crude in their craft, lead down into the [b]Great Tribes[/b], home to some of the most respected Lok'Sha in all of Smor'Gen'Blok, as well as some of their most well guarded secrets. Lok'Sha that found a place in the Great Tribes did not do so through strength and brutality alone, quite the opposite, actually. The predominant tribes that rose to the highest rungs of society were clever, careful, and conscious of their surroundings. Even the most aggressive Tribe out of all the Great tribes, [b]Great - Shaka[/b], were known for their chieftan's  capacity for strategy and tactical genius during the second great war. But it was for that reason alone that the Great Tribes made up a microscopic fraction of Smor'Gen'Blok's overall population. It was also for this reason, that the lower rungs of Ruliman were littered with bitter Lok'Sha that would seek to overthrow Lu'Li'Po's rule. As time passed, Tribes that even the Late Warlord Koal'o respected were sullied with rumors and prejudice from the dark caves below. Throw any word of mouth into the wide spanning networks throughout Ruliman, and it wouldn't take too long for its people to twist any rumor into something terrifying.

	Some Tribes were resolute enough to shrug off the encroaching mindsets that polluted Smor'Gen'Blok however. One such Tribe - Perhaps one of the smallest tribes in the entire Nation - was buried deep beneath the earth where the [b]Low Tribes[/b] rested in darkness. The [b]Low - Kul[/b] Tribe was a small grouping of Lok'Sha that coexisted peacefully alongside their brothers and sisters of the [b]Deeper tunnels.[/b] Under the guidance of their benevolent Chieftain, [b]Ha'Kul[/b], the Low - Kul Tribe has been acknowledged by higher tribe as a progressive example for the surrounding tribes. However, news like this was not immune to the twisted butterfly effect of Smor'Gen'Blok's National Communication. It took only a decade for the Low - Kul Tribe to be robbed of its notoriety among the High Tribes by the smothering practices of those that stood between them and the surface world of Ruliman.

	Ha'Kul sat by the Tribe's [b]Hearth Stone[/b] with one hand planted firmly against the carvings that lined its smoothed surface. It was early enough in the day that he held no worry of interruption. For a Chieftain to wake long before his people was common practice in the Low Tribes. It was his Duty to uphold the aura that protected them from the tunneling horrors below Ruliman, after all. If the Hearthstone were to lose power for even a few minutes, all Lok'Sha nearby would be put at risk. Ha'Kul Murmured quietly to himself as he continued to imbue his mana into the ancient stone. For the Lok'Sha inept in Mana retention and Node care, men like Ha'Kul were a closely guarded rarity. Repairing Nodes after Node Death may have been possible, but such use of soul magic was extremely dangerous, even when pitted against the hardiness of Lok'Sha Physiology. It wouldn't be long before his family and friends awoke to the ritual...