Kurr slowly eased his newest masterpiece of weaponary into the cooling wrack. He smiled proudly as he watched the hot steal harden, smoke whisping off it. It was indeed a true work of art. Such a fine piece of craftsmanship. His enemies should beg to have their lives ended by such a divine, yet brutal and articulated piece of metal. He would wait until the steel cooled, then he would give the weapon it's finishing touches. He studied the idea of travelling to the town of Barbarus to take place in the Bloodblade tournament. That would indeed be a fine christening for his greatest creation. Then the fact came into his mind of how it was so disapponiting that he could not have either found or afforded Gaia metal to make his sword out of. The blade was not perfect if it was not made of Gaia, the lightest, yet hardest metal known. Kurr grumbled with aggression. Bah! It was still a fine instrument of death. By far the greatest of all steel weapons. He just hoped that if he did journey to the tournament, that no other opponent could afford a Gaia weapon. His work of art surely wouldn't stand a chance against it. Just then, the sound of thundering hooves interrupted Kurr's train of thought. He turned to see Azriel arrive on horse back for his daily training. Kurr smiled. He enjoyed the company of this pup. Certainly, he could be arrogant and annoying, but he had a true warrior spirit, albeit a foolhardy reckless one. He knew that the boy admired the hero Tao, and loved practicing the ways laid down by the warrior himself all those decades ago. Azriel hoped off his horse and tied it's reign to the door of the armoury.
"Good morning, young mister Slater. How are you?"
"Fine."
"And you're family?"
"No problems. Look, are you going to stand there all day and chat to me, or are you going to actually shut up and teach me something?" Azriel snapped. Kurr smiled. Young ones. No respect. They had no idea of what had gone before them, how everything is done with time. Clearly, Azriel had not taken Kurr's teachings to mind.
"You're a very arrogant one, aren't you, young Slater, son of Samara? You want to be a master of the Tao Chi Draco, but you don't want to spend the neccesary time that it takes to actually learn. Now shut up and take a staff from the rack over there. Today we begin to teach you the smaller set of Tao Chi Draco ways set down by the great Tao, that he learned from his friend Saber Chambers, which he called the Path of the Swift Lion. I know it sounds rather cliched, but that's what he decided to call it."
"Why?" asked Azriel as he grabbed a wooden staff from the rack.
"You try and think of a better name."

Samara and Barbun rode up to the chief secruity office. They dismounted from their horses and walked inside to the sight of many armoured men all brandishing waepons.
"Guardian Slater. We've just received news of an approaching army."
"Army?," asked Samara "What army?"
"The army I saw on my way here." said a voice in the adjoining room. Samara's mind sparkled with recognition, as he walked into the room to see his old comrade Empyrean sitting in a huge chair.
"In the name of Saber...Empyrean!! It's been years, old friend." Samara smiled as his old ally stood, and the two men embraced in a hug.
"Twenty years, actually. The battlegrounds of Gandua. You were leading your battalion off to the Last Stand. I was being drafted into the Bladed Horsemen Infantry." Empyrean smiled.
"It's good to see you, again, you old warrior. But, what was this you were saying of an approaching army?" Samara's face took a far more grave look.
"I spotted them while I was riding here. The Knightmare Hordes of Plundarr. I'm not a fool, Samara. I know that Hope has a lucrative Gaia mine. The Horde know, too, I'm betting. You and your Town Guard have about forty minutes until they arrive."
"I see," uttered Samara "It looks like we have our own "Last Stand" now. Can I have the honour of drafting the great warrior Empyrean?" asked Samra, with a half smile
"I don't get drafted these days," replied Empyrean "But I am willing to volunteer" Next Page Main Page