[color=darkorange][center][h1]Mason Drake[/h1][/center][/color]
[hr][@Rai][@Jollan][@Verticus][@Brithwyr][@Dread]

After an eventful night in the library, Mason was ecstatic to find a chest full of new gear awaiting him in his room when he returned. What was awaiting him inside the chest, filled his heart with joy; his very own set of [b]Official[/b] Aion Knight light armor as well as a new sword that hummed with power at the young Seraph's touch.  However, due to the combination of overexcitement and fatigue, the poor boy passed out before he could try anything on.  

As dawn began to break, Mason finally stirred from his slumber, his eyes still heavy with sleep.  Slowly, he began to equip his new armor, admiring each ornately decorated piece as he put it on. 
[hr]
As the alliance was getting sent out, Mason noticed that there appeared to be many new faces amoung the group, many of whom he did not recognise, including a peculiar octopus-like individual riding in a steam-powered carriage.

Traveling deep into the Vrondi jungle, a vile stench began to permeate the air, assaulting Mason's senses. At first he thought it would pass, but as the party trudged forward, the air seemed to only thicken with decay.  Before long, a vile effigy; the source of this putrid presence, sat before the group. As Sir Blight ordered everyone to hold up, Mason hopped down from Lulu's back, approaching the repulsive thing. 
[Color=darkorange]"I got this, stand back everyone..."[/color] 

Drawing his new blade, Mason's wings burst into golden flame, equally golden energy leaking from the boy's eyes.  As the golden flames from his wings began to form on his sword, he plunged the blade directly into the ground, continuing to channel his energy through it.  Around the base of the tree formed a geyser of the golden flame, which Mason continued to maintain until the object of decay had been reduced to ash. 

The fire fading as Mason pulled his sword from the ground, it could be seen that his wings had been horribly burned in the process of destroying the tree.  Grimacing in pain and sheathing his blade, the young seraph re- mounted his steed without a word, hoping that doing so would make the others think he was cool.