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[center][hider=Northern Grasslands- Knut Avenstroup Haugen][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7sPLJvg_28[/youtube][/hider][/center]

Flames erupted around Fourteen, washing away the fight that surrounded him. The tent came crashing down and a section pressed against his face, blinding him. Fourteen roared again, that industrial, crunching sound. He staggered backwards, trying to be cognizant of his allies nearby- if he stepped on one of them, they would be seriously wounded for quite some time. He reached up and took the thick canvas of the tent in both hands, then pulled with all his might. The canvas tore in two, but when he looked out, the sandy battlefield was gone and the tent seemed to evaporate from his grip. He was somewhere else now, somewhere...nice.

The marble and stone buildings around Fourteen all glimmered with master craftsmanship, and the armor of the knights shone bright in the clean, golden sunlight. There was no dust here, no drab greying of the sun. Fourteen felt a pure, dry warmth on his body. It felt familiar, but he couldn’t place when or where. Fourteen looked around at the marble columns and stately manors surrounding the courtyard into which they had been summoned. Well-trimmed gardens lined the paths, evergreen trees cut into neat cones and flowerbeds overflowing with dazzling blooms. Never before had he seen such stunning colors. 

Off in the distance, though, Fourteen saw something that he truly had never seen before. Walking down a busy avenue, nestled amongst a throng of citizens heading to or from some marketplace, was...another golem. It was as tall as Fourteen, its rocky exterior a pale grey-blue. It carried a pack on its back on which were stacked neat rows of bricks. As it walked, the crowd parted, otherwise unconcerned with the gargantuan construct traveling with them. The golem looked straight ahead, no wavering in its step or focus. Fourteen watched with what could only be called envy. This golem was not unlike himself, except it had purpose. With each step it took, it got closer to accomplishing a goal: a simple goal, sure, but one that would make its master pleased with its performance. It led a life that Fourteen had always wanted. In this place, Fourteen knew, he could truly be happy. He could do what he was meant to do. All he had to do now was get permission to stay. 

The others parted with their weapons, handing them over to the knights. Fourteen had nothing to hang over, so he only watched the others. His allies had taken a beating, their armor and skin blotted with blood from the battle. Fourteen winced as he unclenched his hand and the pain from his knuckle injury streaked up his arm. He looked down at his knuckle; there was only a small crack, a few inches long. Fourteen had sustained worse injuries, and he knew this wound would heal with time. In the meantime, he would have to be careful with his left fist. 

Fourteen looked towards the others. Having now battled with them, he felt a blossom of kinship within him. These were good people, capable at the least. He looked to Artur, who was giving up his sword to the knights. The man seemed haggard and wild, but within him Fourteen sensed more. He seemed a keen strategist and warrior- though the knights around them had more well-maintained armor and weapons, Fourteen doubted any of them could take Artur in a fight. The same, too, went for the short man and the large woman with the spear. Both had fought by Artur’s side and appeared relatively unscathed. Fourteen watched Azariah put his odd mechanical servant to rest. This servant, he wagered, was not much unlike him. Perhaps Azariah would know something about golem-crafting, but now was not the time to ask. Fourteen stepped towards the others, careful not to get too close and bump into anyone.

[b]”You,"[/b] Fourteen said, pointing to Artur with an enormous, stone finger. [b]”You are a commander of authority. I respect you.”[/b]