The knight: "You quick soldier, your sword halfly as fast as your reputation, would heaven up my amazement. But 'tis not so, is it?"
"Tis with plague in mine smile that I come to mellow thine disenchanting style"
The elders' faces clear with expectation's gratitude for the coming display of Words...
"Insult me not, ye verse monger, a sneer for your smothered cowardice."
The Nirion sighs sorrowfully, looks up melancholously and utters silently: "an end to this befouling." and melancholy turns to glooming fiery rage in the now dark eyes of the Wielder, a recoil on the other side of the room as the youth feels the bundling of force, the Beholder's arms raise and with a mighty magician's thump, the knight is flung to the wall.
The darklightborne swiftly speaks:
"Stronghold we our children in emotion and wisdom, as the old cock crows, the young ones learn, and forgive we his youth, as even now I envy his youth as well as his revolt."
But enthralled in the corner lies the youth with burning eyes, and open as his mind now is to any means to erase the humilations done, and probably unintended by the darklightborne, he unknowingly lets The Many Who Know The Return And Wish To Halt It Now in.
Suddenly a ghastly sigh resounds as the darker take over his mind, the knight hops up, his eyes gazing intensely at the Swordscarrier, and he unleashes a bolt of pure incentive madness at the Nirion, who is now lifted from the soil and recoils in surprise.
The youth, with a gravetrodeen voice, says:
"As a screech owl, I descend from the heavens to bring the white scourge amongst your children, scrutinizing for any and all uncorrumped life to waste, sitting on the Holy See, the shepherd and his sheperdess estrangled. Henceforth I am the Mendacious Meddler, the Provost of Prostitution, the Prosecutor of Puerile Innocence. Atrabilious be henceforth the Seers of Your destiny...
Perish now... (x4)
But mighty an enemy before him, over his initial surprise, bundles the dragondfiend defendspells, breaks the bondings of the Lifterspells and unleashes the ravashing Ti'Ak'Thi.
Half the spell's power is flushed through the mental gate towards the Darker who control the youth, a quarter of the power crushes the poor youth and another quarter tears through the castle walls...
As with any magician, having indefinate power to use, and no experience for a very long time, an overcast spell...
But the Darker, unwilling to let slip so mighty an occasion, use the link now created to send in five Ta'Rish.
However, the Nirion for once and for all wishes to show the very might he wields and unsheaths the Weiliaon, and gleaming in silverblue, the Chant of the Sword commences...
The room turns damp and dark as the soul of the Dead burnt in the Nirion's chest come to life and as the Weiliaon turns red, the Nirion charges, a chaotic mixture of undead, steel Weiliaon, materialized magic and flesh...
Twenty seconds later, the Ta'Rish are shattered...
