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Welcome. My lecturer isn't reachable and will most likely not be able to finish his lecture in months. I decided to upload the text without his further proofreading, what means that there are probably some mistakes left, although I did my best to eradicate them. I hope it isn't ruining the scripture. Thank you.

3: Nevlamas

_"Those that are fallen for all

eternity are dangerous, but

they are nothing compared

to those that seek salvation."_

It turned out that the reptile was able to get hold of a set of dirty brown cloths from somewhere. She didn't dare to ask from where - sometimes it was better to know less. But to calm her conscience...

"Are those stolen?"

"No, to take them damaged no one." Fine, enough asked. She already had sufficient troubles.

She doubted that the rabid sergeant would survive. She had informed the closest hospital and named his position, that was all she could do. It remained to escort the lizard. He seemed to know what to do - his thoughts radiated purposefulness - but it would have been imprudence to let him simply run trough the city. Carefully said.

But the truth was: His very presence made her feel uncomfortable. And that he had fallen head over heels in love with her - his mind was shouting that around - still was the smaller problem; It was not the first heart she would have to break. No, the real problem were the memories he awoke. Lizards. Hands on her body. Blood and fire...

Were all scaled ones blood-thirsty and driven by instinct? Tricky, she thought, Tricky. No, not all scaled ones. Just the lizards.

"I thank you for the escort you provide", her companion said in that moment. That surprised her, a feeling she wasn't used to.

"I am protecting the city from you", she answered bluntly.

"I know. This is why I thank you. ." He almost seemed to disgorge the next sentence. "And I thank you for... saving my life."

"I did my duty. And I begin to ask myself if that was a mistake", she sighed heavily: "What are we going to do with you?"

"I know my purpose, mylady", it was the first time he called her like this.

"Yes, but of what nature will it be? Your gift to remain unseen is by no means pleasing me. It tells of your past."

He shrugged. "Solitude is my craft.", was his only comment.

And how true was that! To walk undiscovered through the most cramped place of the known universe was de facto impossible. Still he did. He moved through the vast labyrinth of the planet as if he would have wandered it for decades already. Not for a single second he stood still. Never did he hesitate. Never did they meet a single soul. With the grace of a spider, he scurried through his urbane web, eluded large areas, crawled from alley to alley. Krystal could just follow him wondering. It was frightening to see him like this. To accompany him now meant to face a beast of prey.

Or was it civilisation he fled from? Now that she paid attention to it - the number of machines they passed was notably small. Did he chose his ways not only because they were empty, but also to avoid seeing technology?

Corneria's heart beat electronically, that was beyond debate. Even now, in the dull morning hours, her frantic pulse was carried onwards by machines of all kind, vehicles, pumps, screens and lights, lights, everywhere lights! From the synthetic limbs made in the close hospital to the toys of children, from her gear to her weapon - nothing here happened without electric current.

She couldn't say if this was what he fled, but she assumed it. Usually she would have simply peeked into his head, but she backed off from that idea. To pry around in his mind was like poking a beehive: With a lot of luck you get honey, but it is much more likely that you will reveal things you really didn't want to see.

Lost in thoughts, she stumbled a bit as the ground suddenly sank and as the cold, grey material under her foot was replaced with fresh grass. She raised her eyes.

They had left behind the steely tide of the city and a large, green carpet lied in front of them instead. A city park.

In the middle of the renaturated area stood a group of huge, old trees, that herded together like a horde of children. At first she was amazed how detailed she could see the them. Although hundreds of feet away she could have counted the veins of their leaves. Concentrating on the phenomenon, she quickly identified her companion as its source - he focused the trees so strongly that it mentally bled through to her.

Nevlamas didn't pause before they stood in the heart of the forest and Krystal didn't fall behind. Upon reaching it, he raised his arms in desperation and looked up to their crowns. "Gone!", he just yelled.

She read the rest: "The village?"

"They pulled it down! Simply gone!"

"So we came here for nothing."

He turned around: "Not necessarily. Maybe... if...." He stopped and suddenly began to rip a nearby bush away. He threw the disrooted plant away and went on to the next.

He had digged through dozens of shrubs and flowers before he stopped; Under the ruined roots of a large brush he had revealed an iron cover, a heavy seal in the womb of the earth. He levered it up. A stale smell ascended from the duct that lied under it and filled the air with the olfactoric soul of a dripstone cave.

"You have to remain here, mylady. No strangers are allowed to enter this place. It is sacred", the lizard said.

"And you are not simply slipping off?"

"Why don't you take a look into my head if you doubt my words?"

He had downright displayed the concerning stream of thoughts for her, so she found it quickly. And in fact, no matter how thoroughly she examined it, she found no falsity in it. He was either telling the truth or the most brilliant liar she ever saw.

She decided to risk it. "Should I wait here?", she asked.

"Not necessarily. I do not know how long this may take me - and please don't be insulted, but I am sure that your shielding hand is not required for my way from now on. It would delight my heart to see you here once I'll return, but necessity is no longer binding you."

The vixen commented his speech with a nod. "One more thing", she said: "If we should meet again, you..."

"...never saw you before, I know." He layed his palm between his eyes: "Farewell. We will see each other again."

It looked like the reptile had expected no answer, for he disappeared into the hole before she had the time to give one. His long, whip-like tail seemed to wave at her, then it was gone as well.

--

His awe didn't allow him to light a torch. He even stripped of his cloths and let them lie at the entrance of the cave; Nothing not belonging to his kind should ever enter this place again.

He intoned a song while he descended to the turquoise basins. It was a cyclic litany reciting the names of all those he had known, it encouraged him and strengthened his determination.

As he finally set foot on the ground of the cavern, a deep inner silence rose in him. He strode through the ancestor ponds filled with paralyzing, deep reverence. His doubts were washed away - he had felt how the spirits of this place had accepted his presence. Some of them even revealed themselves to him. He saw them, how they cowered over the bright waters all around, some as fleeting as the mists, some real enough to be almost physically present. They floated over their final resting places like embryos in their mother's womb: Legs tucked up to the chest, arms slung around their shanks, tail coiled around the body. Their gazed followed him silently.

Nevlamas recognized none of the faces. That was not surprising, the mortal remains of his victims had never found their way here after all, what saddened him deeply. Everyone knew that the wraiths of this place were without spirit, memories that somehow had left the bones of their former carriers to live on in the psychically resonant water of the ancestor pounds, still it was the most earnest wish of each of his kin to be layed to rest here. That he had denied them this right had been a worse crime than killing them, he knew that. He wouldn't find them here.

His path through the ponds was clear. As long as the watching dead didn't disturb his concentration he was safe. It guided him almost to the middle of the cavern, where the hundreds of springs all around him united their glimmer to a bright blue ribbon. Looking back, Nevlamas wondered how his last victim had ever made it this far - after all he himself had ripped serveral organs and one of his arms out of his body before he had killed him here, the last of his kin. He wondered how close to the corpse Joshua and Tereny had been when he had found them. His memory was incomplete.

The last of his kin... but that was not the main reason why he had to see that youngest of ghosts. That he was the only one who knew the full dimension of Nevlamas' crimes allowed him to forgive him and to redeem his past. But there was one thing much more important: Only this single soul could assign the right to take the weapons of his family to him - his essential purpose of being here.

The central pond was a bit larger compared to the other waters of this place. A ten feet thick ring of naked stone surrounded it. This one was the only basin that hosted more than one sleeping ghost - seven, to be precise.

"Skeel", the bloodscale said and stepped closer to the spring. Awoken by its name, one of the wraiths - notably substantial - rose from its cowering stance and approached him. Bodily actions, like stretching after such a long time of stasis, seemed to be unneeded. The dead owned uncommon, wild beauty. His scales were of a deep red, streaked by black marks - it was amazing how much they equalled Nevlamas'. He was slim, although his lifelong training had left marks. Given the situation, his facial expression was notably soft. He seemed to be barely older than twenty. The dead didn't age - it was ironic. He faced the once who once had shaped him, but this image was barely older then he, his heir, was now.

As the ghost stepped forth, he sank down to a proskynetic stance.

"Father....", he whispered.

The ghost touched his head softly, it felt like a gust of warm air. "Stand up, Nev. I am not your master."

The young lizard rose to his knees, but not further.

Skeel laughed: "You look as if you were going to tell me that you once again stumbled over one of old Juul's flower pots. Oh, how well do I remember the face you always struck then. I simply couldn't blame you when you did that." He giggled, a strange sound in this place. "Fine, let's proceed to business: I guess you're here to ask for absolution. Allright, it's granted."

His son glanced up: "Just like that?"

"Oh, you probably expected some kind of terrifying ritual of redemption with blood and sweat and a lot of tears." He waved his hands in disapprove. "You already did that when you were a child. You take the blame for anything and everything and then you think it's heroic. I know that most of mischief you claim to have done actually was Scartail's work. You're innocent as charged, but maybe my remission will finally stop your endless sentimentality." He was smiling broadly now. "You probably took it from me, your mother still had hers after all."

"I take the blame for everything? I killed the entire village! I teared out one of your arms and murdered you here, on sacred ground!"

His father grimaced: "I admit, the whole story with my arm wasn't that nice. I clung to my arm after all and there was a certain degree of... pain of parting. But as you know, it stopped pretty soon after." The wraith stretched himself. "Seriously, since I'm dead I feel much better."

Nevlamas bit his lip to stop himself from talking. It was a deadly mistake to think that Skeel was just a gabbling fool. He himself had once asked him why he always acted so funny. "Because you can only stand this world when you're either evil or insane", he had answered - and walked away whistling.

"Once again: You are pure in the eyes of the gods. Something like this had to happen some day - such is the curse of our kind. He only tragical aspect is that of all people you had to be the one who would eventually condemn himself to solitude." Skeel crossed his legs. It was irritating to see that he didn't sit down for that, but instead tucked up his feet; He was floating now.

"But this is not why you are here, eh?"

"No, father", Nevlamas stood up: "Now that I my past is cleansed, I claim my right to inherit your arms."

"Ah yes. Talking about rituals." Skeel unfolded his legs and sank down to his child: "You know the procedure?"

"At, mas", the bloodscale answered, "Yes, father."

"Then let us begin."

--

He awoke slowly, but without pain. Stemming himself into a sitting stance, he felt his hands gliding over wood and realized that he no longer was where he should be.

He stumbled. He sat inside of an entity that probably was supposed to be a wooden room. But it was none - it was a crime against reality. Walls and ceiling were made of wood, but it seemed blurred and smudgy. The grain was not visible and the planks seemed to melt into each other in some places. Or they were missing completely. Shapeless, white spots that made his eyes burn covered the places where reality retreated. Even the ground under his foot felt wrong. It was as if he would be feeling it through a thick layer of gelatine. The sensation made his body tingle. This place shouldn't be...

Unexpectedly, his instincts gave bark and he cast himself aside. Something shining glided past his head, so close that it almost scratched his scales - still he felt no draft. Whatever it had been, it had been sharp enough to slice through air itself. He knew only two items that were able to do that.

The twin blades of his bloodline danced as silver shadows in the hands of his father. Even among his own kind, Skeel was considered an outstanding fencer and the weapons he was wielding were the most exquisite of their kin. His failed assault was obviously no distraction for him and he had taken his initial stance once more.

"What would loremaster Tem'la say about attacking an unarmed person?"

"Honour is a pretence for lacking strategy", the dead quoted: "If your motives are important enough to justify killing, they're also too important to risk their success by acting honourable."

Nevlamas rolled his eyes: "What would she say about duelling with an unarmed person?" He made an enervated gesture with his left hand. Stumbled. Wasn't it hamstrung?

"So why don't you arm yourself?", Skeel was imperturbable: "Imagine theses swords."

"You know that my imagination is limited."

The older one snorted. "Limited indeed. Take this room for example." He made a general gesture: "This is no memory, this is a joke! Fine, you havn't seen this room in six years, but this..." He shook his head.

"So...."

"That's right. Welcome to your mind - full pension all-inclusive!" He looked around again: "But the prospect is crap."

"The armament...", mumbled his son.

"Ah yes, right." He threw the blades hilt first. Nevlamas catched them. For the first time he hold the weapons of their line and he was amazed how light they were. They had more of long daggers than of swords though - their blades were slightly curved, only one-sidedly sharped and barely one and a half foot long. Nevertheless: For no laser, blaster, or rocket technology of the "civilized world" he would have given them away. For none, for he knew their true worth.

Although plain in appearance, the weapons he was wielding were of a quality that had no rival. Their leather-wrapped hilts seemed to snuggle into his hands, eager for bloodshed. The silver shimmer of their steely edges was as he knew no reflection of light, but a delicate, infinitely faint glow of the metal itself. Nobody knew exactly how these arms had been forged - it was told that their maker, Gin-Wulm, had left his people and the whole planet after he had completed them; Just to make sure that his spirit wouldn't find the way into this cave, where it would have spilled the secret of their smithery.

And alas, what would generations of artisians have done to acquire it! It seemed like the blades never broke, no matter what battles they endured; If needed, they could even withstand the searing bolts of a blaster gun. Their edges required almost no sharping and cut through flesh and bones as if they were silk. A small amount of reports (conflicts with the outerworld had always been rare) claimed that they were even able to pierce steel and iron when wielded by skilled hands. But despite - no, because of - their immense fame, the two weapons had never been given a name. Nevlamas' kin firmly believed that a being acquired power over an item by knowing its name. They knew their own brutish ferocity and were convinced that it was the weapon that should control the warrior and not the other way around.

As he looked up again, he saw his father wielding two exact copies of the twin swords. He didn't even care to ask from where those came. All things were just lies and deception here.

"When was the last time you have fenced?", Skeel asked: "I never saw someone staring at swords witch such fascination."

"Never before", Nevlamas shrugged: "But my instincts make up for my lack of training."

His father nodded: "Strength, speed and precision: The rage is a good teacher. But you are weakened. Are you sure that you..."

Nevlamas struck out. His right weapon targeted Skeel's throat, a strike that would be deadly combined with the power of his onslaught.

His contrahent made a step sidewards and slammed both fists into his back. Dumbstruck, the youth stumbled forwards and crashed into the wall in front of him. For a moment he saw stars.

Skeel was over him before he could stand up again. The ghost lunged out for the killing blow, but this time he was the slower one. Nevlamas tensed his muscles and slammed his feet against his chin. The elder lizard was knocked down and rolled off. He had followed the strike's direction - the strike would have broken his neck otherwise.

Now he was the one attacked. The young bloodscale swooped down on him and smothered him with strikes before he could regain his orientation. Steel flashed as the older one masterfully parried the blows. The skirmish continued, but Nevlamas quickly realized that he could impossibly breach through the defense he was facing. He had no chance to defeat the swordmaster in an open fencing bout. So he had to find another way - not the easiest thing to do with a head filled with aching pain.

Skeel had already turned the tables. Now he was the one in control, and in contrary to his son he had a chance to get through his defense. His strikes, feints and stabs came so quickly that the younger one could barely parry, let alone riposting them. In his longer life, he had learned how to fight two-handed and could draw on a mastery of coordination Nevlamas wouldn't have dared to dream about. The boy was strong and he was fast, but he was lacking technique.

Said boy used this very second to aim a completely useless attack from above that left his whole body unguarded and Skeel decided to end it. It took him only one swift movement to amputate the striking arm over the elbow. Blood splashed around, but his son did not react as shocked as he had expected - not even a scream escaped his lips.

For a short moment he tried to understand the deathly cold reaction of his heir, then he felt a violent blow against his loins that filled his body with blazing, blinding agony. His muscles cramped, pressed all air out of his lungs and made him slump down like a sack of bones.

That devious bastard had factored it all in! He had sacrificed his arm just to buy himself a few seconds of time!

He saw Nevlamas approaching and tried to defend himself, but his hands were paralyzed. His son stepped up to him and they shared a long gaze. Blood still flew out of his wound in huge amounts, covering the floor all around him. That was Skeel's last impression before he was decapitated by his own swords.

--

He awoke with pounding headaches and the stale taste of blood in his mouth - it looked like he had knocked his head as his body had hit the ground of the cavern.

Moaning, the bloodscale rose. He had just lost his right arm that yet still was where it should be, in return his left one was numb and his chest burning like fire; His tactile sense was completely confused.

"That was pretty perfidious."

"Honour is a pretence for lacking strategy, father."

"Still", Skeel's spirit seemed sulky: "You'd be dead now if our fight would have been real."

Nevlamas shook his head, what made the sharp pain inside burst into kaleidoscopic splinters: "I'd still have around twenty seconds right now. But anyway - I defeated you."

A sigh: "Yes, you have. Take your price and get out of my eyes. To humiliate a poor old man like this..."

"Forgive me, father, but it was inevitable."

The wraith rolled his eyes: "That was irony! You just claimed your right! By the way, believe me: Nothing is inevitable, especially death. I have to know it. After all..."

Skeel had been pretty chatty during his whole life and had loved to get off the track. It seemed like that hadn't changed in death - another trait that his son had long lost.

"The swords", Nevlamas uttered and the wraith cut off mid-sentence.

"Ah yes, right.", he then continued: "You should find them behind this pond I believe."

The bloodscale surrounded the large well and found the claim confirmed: The skeleton of his father lay on the ground in a strung-out position; Its empy orbits would forever stare forwards, to what they desperately tried to reach. His right arm was missing and the vertebraic bones of his tail laid scattered behind him. The grave condition the body was in did not cover the message its posing delivered: The claws of its widely outstretched arm scarcely breached the surface of the glowing water in front of him.

"I just can't stop wondering how close that whole thing actually was.", his father had kept up with him, toughtfully watching his own corpse: "If I would have died a few seconds earlier, all would have been for naught."

Nevlamas turned to look at him: "So why did you crawl to this well and not to one of those on the way?"

"Because I knew that you'd come back to this ground someday. And then I had to be sure that you'd easily find me - it would have simply been too stupid if you endured all the trials you went through just to founder on a game of pairs here."

"And you did all that for your murderer..."

The dead tipped his chin with his fingers, a gesture of disapproval. "You're getting off the track", he assessed: "You did that all the time when you were younger. Where did you get that from, seriously? Surely not from me."

His son stumbled, then he had to grin. "I don't know it, father."

He turned back to the body between them. The skeleton still wore the fencer garb of his race - short white pants, shoulder pads and thin, black gloves - that, although the flesh beneath them had allready rotten to ashes, still was as pure as if it would have only recently been weaved. Ribbons of white cloth ran crosswise over back and chest, holding shoulder pads and pants together and providing tension for the fighter. Two loops were attached to those ribbons near the hips and in those loops rested the so highly coveted masterpieces of Gin-Wulm - his father hadn't drawn them to the death.

"Take my clothes as well", the elder one suggested: "No offense, but not everyone wants to see you naked."

Nevlamas tried to comply, but his wounded body offered resistance. Bending forward proved to be impossible, thus he had to kneel down and his left arm was still paralyzed, so that it took him a long time to free the mortal remains of his father from their clothes. Subsequently, he tried to force himself into his new attire. His father had been more brawny than he was, what was the reason why pants and gloves did not fit. It took him serveral minutes to adjust the system of bands and ribbons holding the suit together to his size.

When he eventually felt it huddle against his body, he drew out one of the swords that were now his and allowed it to perform a short dance in his intact hand. He made a content sound and put it away - neither did it cut its sheath nor did he tangle it up. His ascension was now complete.

"Clothes make people", Skeel commented dry-witted: "Not the other way around. Please be so kind and throw my bones into this well here before you leave, will you?"

"Are you booting me?"

"I am giving a friendly advice. Now honour thy father and do what I told you."

"Farewell then, mas.", the bloodscale bowed: "I dare to doubt that we will meet again."

"Stop your sentimental whining!" Tears appeared in Skeels eyes while he said that. Was it grieving him to see his son so cold-blooded face to face with such a final separation? Or was it the pain of separation itself that badgered him? Nevlamas jumped up; The situation was getting too awkward for him. He almost hastily picked up the wrecked skeleton on the ground and commited it to the hallowed waters of the great basin.

Skeel had already returned to his dead-like stasis as he turned around, sleeping with his brothers and sisters in the misty light of the pound like an unborn child. Nevlamas remained where he was and watched them lost in thoughts, then he turned around and left this place of temptation. Forever.

He had chosen life.

--

He was allready regretting his choice. To come here alone had been hell. They had told him to use one of those floating vehicles he vaguely knew from his time at Tereny's side. But how strange everything had been! How fast! And above all: How everyone had been staring at him! His father had warned him: Corneria's children were blind and thought themselves seeing, poor and thought themselves rich, mad and thought themselves brilliant. Between the ground he was standing on and the former sanctuary he had seen nature either completely eradicated or abused and molested. This was a city, he thought. A place where the intelligent races had chased away every other kind of life. The beauty here didn't reach his eye. The genius behind its design and the substainability of its construction - where nature was by all means included - couldn't be grasped by him. This buzzing hive made of steel, electricity and billions of citizens was just another proof of the lunacy of the civilized world for him. Of his third and probably last home.

A bright midsummer sun broke through the crystalline wall behind his back. The zyclopean front included a door made of some kind of strange synthetic material, but the constant stream of people held it open day by day - and probably night by night. He wondered why a building dedicated to war had a front of glass, but not for long - after all, this was Corneria. Four glassy galleries crossed the hall in heady heights, just as well filled with fussing, clamorous crowds, hundreds of people, soldiers and civilians alike. Military academy, he thought, nonsense! He saw no warriors here.

Although countless corridors left the room in all directions, there was still enough space for a good dozen of small terminals that were occupied by men and women of various species. Those were busy watching serveral screens simultaneously, typing on some kind of boards and looking incredibly official. One of them - a rabbit lady of remarkable youth and beauty, ruined by even greater uniformed correctness - seemed to have much less work than her colleagues however: She wasn't forced to serve a throng of supplicants and even had the time to look around in the hall or to adjust one of the golden garnishments of her uniform here and there. She was his destination. Door and key to a life that would redeem the last of his sins and above all: Door and key to lady Krystal. To protect the innocent, to serve Corneria, all that was of no interest for him To be a soldier meant that he would not starve and that he would be close to his beloved one, but it was neither reputable nor heroic. Once he had asked his father about the difference between a soldier and a warrior. Skeel's simple answer had been: "A warrior takes up his arms to fight for his ideals. He fights because he sees no other possibility to restore that what he would call good. A soldier however is an ill-fated cross of a warrior and a mercenary. He fights for money, at command or for foreign ideals that others have implanted in his mind." To be a soldier meant to live in shame. Fine, he sought neither honour nor glory.

The rabbit looked up as he approached her counter. The way she was surveying his cloths spoke volumes, her voice however remained resolute: "What can I do for you?"

"I wish to become a soldier."

"Your name, please." Factual. Sober.

"Nevlamas."

"And your second name...?" Wasn't there a small sign of petulance already?

Second name? Oh right, he could remember that it was common in Corneria to bear two names. "Bloodscale", he decided impulsively.

The clerk gave him a wry look, still she turned around to her countless screens and began to tip on the board before them. Her eyes darted over the appearing informations. "Gunner, Icewolf, Kiba...", she mumbled: "There is no Bloodscale in our recruitment instruments."

Ah, that was the word! "No big surprise", he said smiling. He thought that playing the harmless idiot would be the best idea from this point on. "That's why I'm here. To be recruited."

The rabbit took a deep breath. "I need your particulars then."

"My what?"

Now, he thought amused, she's really feeling like choking me to death. "Your personal documents!"

"I have none."

She whispered something he prefered to overhear. "You aren't from here, are you?"

"No, I just recently arrived here. My home is...", his brain cells worked flat out: "...Sauria."

"Then we should begin with making you a citizen first.", she explained resignedly: "Please answer the following questions..."

--

One by one, he blanked out all sounds arround him and sank into meditation. He tested each of his animal functions, found them satisfying and opened his eyes again. The hard and long training of the past months had strengthened his muscles and reflexes, his senses and grit. He had learned the basics of Cornerian history and culture and had attuned his mode of speaking closer to common Lylat. He could even use a blaster gun now - although he still refused to fly an arwing. He was by all means ready for the test; Now or never.

Besides, if the motley crew of imbecile idiots around him had a chance to succeed, he'd probably solve any test without problems. Most of the other examinees had engaged in idle, happy chatter and nearby his own position he could see a boy - a puny, silver kitten - who looked as if he would faint any moment, just out of sheer nervousness. There were no more than two true warriors in the room: A nordic wolf with off-white fur and fascinating blue eyes was the first. He was dressed in robe like a mage and his two long, slender swords seemed to be hosts of more than just a bit magic, but in fact he was an old fashioned warrior through and through: Chivalrous, polite, stern, disciplined and extremely crafty, in short: A womanizer of dignity and honour at peace, quick, deadly and efficient at war. This one would neither hesitate nor doubt when his skills were needed. He shared his own aversion to guns, that as well made the battle psyker - or mage knight, how the bloodscales had called his kind - rather personable.

The other warrior however shared that aversion in no way. He was a wolf as well, a grey one, young, brawny and pretty impressive for a mere civilian. A coarse face completed the impression and made it easy to imagine him wearing an axe or a hammer. But in truth, Vincent Kiba was a gunman that loved no weapon more than his blaster - and he admittedly handled it with a mastery that almost equalled Joshua's. Temperamentally, he was simply an asshole, arrogant, gruff and rude. But Nevlamas still had a very fine-tuned sense for negative feelings, especially since they had passed quite a long training together.

Kiba hid something. He smelled pain in his past, physical one just as mental injuries, covered under crankiness - he liked him. He'd be his ally during this test.

It were those two warriors and Nevlamas himself that first turned their heads towards the possible threat appearing as the door opened. The long waiting and the plain drabness of this room had weakened the attention of all the other students; Just another flaw in their reputation.

Two men entered: Falco Lombardi, one of the mercenaries working together with lady Krystal, was the first. He gave the second newcomer a short introduction and left. Said second had to be "Ryan Lewis", who had been announced as another examinee not yet present. Said second newcomer definetly caught most of the attention. He was a human.

The entire world seemed to freeze for a moment. Humans were mystical creatures used to frighten children, just like Argonians of Naga! The didn't simply walk around in reality! Well, he thought after a moment of confusion, obviously they did. His thoughts switched from deep calmness to rushed rampage within seconds.

One way or another, such an extraordinary creature would be of great importance in the future, he could be sure of that without even knowing him. It would certainly be best to join the circle of it's closest allies as soon as possible he decided - a hard thing for someone who despised any kind of closeness and called trust and faith weaknesses. But the possibilities he would gain that way were to precious to be ignored. He'd simply try to make friends with him as quick as his own disgust allowed it.

And his disgust was strong. The ugliness of mankind was proverbial among his kind and this one was no exception. It could well be that other humans would name him gorgeous - for Nevlamas he was just a naked ape with crippled limbs and features. Furthermore: He was a stranger and thus even less to trust than all the other people. Humans were, as everyone knew, greedy, cunning, selfish, lazy and effeminate. He'd have to approach this one with extreme care.

Just now the black haired boy had made the mistake to approach Kiba, who now was bawling him out the tried and tested way. Time for him to set foot on the chessboard.

"Just ignore him", he addressed the human: "Vincent's a little too hot headed for his own good."

The monkey turned around to him. Nevlamas felt his strange, alien eyes mustering his body, then he spoke.

"And you are?"

"My name is Nevlamas", the lizard answered calmly: "My few precious friends call me Bloodscale."