Another pair searing hot days. 93 degrees. Gods it needs to rain out here. I hope this chapter is decent, as I'm coated in too much sweat to care. Wanted this up yesterday, but the heat was too much, as the weather here is wacky. Pouring and 60 one day, 100 and humid the next. I hate dat shiet. Please check out my facebook page, Jiro Uchiha: Da Boss Of All Bosses, for more misc. info, such as photos of the orcish mounts, and of the elven leader, if and when I can post them. Thank you very much, JIRO
Shango blinked again. He looked at the creature the giant vulture had sent, and frowned. Was this a joke? The bird has responded to his questions with decent answers. The creature was sent by Grandpa Lion, only because it irritated him too much. Shango looked it over, tilting his head. The creature was likely only slightly over five foot tall, with a build not too different than Arya's. He furrowed his brow. Snow white hair hung, framing the round face of the creature. Regardless of age, it held a youthful face, with soft, effeminate features. Big orbs of black were set into the face, giving an almost alien look. Shango sighed, noticing the creature's garb. The creature wore a loose robe that hung off it's shoulders, belying a possible usage for pleasure. The creature's figure was wiry, so the being was obviously flexible, and was likely trained in exotic dance if his suspicions were correct.. Shango grunted.
"Come along. Let's find you some proper clothing." he said, turning. The creature made a squeaking noise. Shango's vision allowed him to see an odd set of teeth. Each tooth was slightly more jagged than it should have been, and the canine's were much larger than normal. The creature hung it's head, and followed three paces behind Shango. He stopped, and it stopped with him. He looked down. "You should walk next to me. This way I won't lose you." he said softly. The creature kept it's head down, but walked up next to Shango. The liger flexed his nostrils, his therian sense of smell picking up miniscule details about the creature. First, the hormonal musk around every creature. This creature was male, and Shango determined an age under twenty years. He smelt a light, almost woodland scent, which was characteristic of the fae, and the distinct scent of desert sands.
This scent combination was a signature of the kobold, almost phantom like fae with massive ears for their frame. But, this one's ears weren't huge, but average. He smiled. As he walked, he wondered just what clothing he'd wear. Bran shared his wardrobe with Arya, and the creature was too tall for Arya's wardrobe. That left Sansa, who owned nothing but dresses. And, as amusing as it might be to embarrass the little creature, he wouldn't stoop that low. He opened the door to his chambers, instructing the small creature to have a seat, which he did. The room was small, and not very spacious, and, he noticed, lacked a bed. He turned to the big man, who rummaged through a closet. "Wh-Where do you sleep, M-My Lord?" he asked. Shango paused, his glacial eyes peeking back at the creature. "I don't. I meditate in lieu of sleep. And you don't need to call me My Lord, I'm barely a nobleman." he said, chuckling as he continued.
The creature spoke again, his high pitched voice the only noise in the room. "Wh-What would y-you have me call you?" he stuttered out. Shango frowned, disliking that such a creature, regardless of age and upbringing, could be reduced to such. He stood, taking a seat on the soft leather rug, made of boar skin, next to the creature. "My name is Shango Phunraz. I would prefer you to call me Shango. If you want to make up a nickname for me, that's fine. Just as long as it's not derogatory. And in return, you can tell me your name, and I'll do the same." he said, careful to be gentle with the fragile being. If the boy was even part kobold, he was very fragile, as the bones of said species would break easily under almost any force. He pouted, and sunk his head down. "I don't h-have a name." he said, his voice a mere whisper. Shango leaned back.
"Very well then. I shall give you a name. From here on out, you will be known as Pip Squeak Phunraz. I will call you by our first name, Pip, and you can call me whatever you like." he said. The creature looked up, a bright look in his eyes. Shango smiled. "See? Now you have a name, and a family." he said, turning back to the closet. He rolled his fingers, and a large chunk of black cloth floated from the closet. The creature backed up slightly, and Shango, used his other hand to freeze him in place. He squirmed and thrashed, using surprising force to try and pry himself free of Shango's spell. The liger worked the black cloth with one hand, his rolling fingers altering the cloth into an outfit for the boy. He turned to him. "Calm down Pip. Can't have you squirming while I'm working. I need you to stay still." he said. The creature stopped moving, but remained uneasy.
Shango stood him upright, and with a quick flick of his wrists, the loose robe was gone and replaced by a thick cloth shirt, which had sleeves that covered his hands, and string tightening it toward his collar. His trousers were similar, standard and simple. Shango sighed. "Done. Now you look like a free civilian, and not … never mind." he said, not wanting to damage the creature's psyche any more. The little boy cheered, happy to have new clothing. He bounced about the room, with a grace only the elves possessed. Shango sighed. The creature sat down, blinking at Shango. "Mister, why are your eyes white?" he asked. Shango shrugged. "Just the way they came out. It can be attributed to my species, as I am descended from a White Tiger, and they normally have blue eyes, or gray eyes. Your eyes are pitch black. Why?" he retorted. The creature blinked. He giggled. "Simple. My mommy was a dark elf. Dark Elves have black eyes sometimes." he said. Shango nodded, standing. The creature stood with him. He looked down at Pip. "Yes, but elves are a lot taller than you." he said. Pip frowned. "They are?" he asked.
Shango walked out of his room, Pip following close behind. Walking through the halls, which were lit by torches placed far apart, Shango's eyes were wide open, his pupils expanded, nearly covering his whole eye. Pip followed close, unable to see in the dark. He walked out into the courtyard, where many members of House Stark's allies were lounging happily. Pip's eyes widened. Most of the people in this yard, if not all, were taller than him. Lizard like creatures were lounged, some with massive gray skinned warriors leaning against them, feasting happily. Purple skinned, pointed eared warriors sang, danced, and feasted about. Shango pointed to them. "They, are dark elves." he said. He frowned, seeming much shorter than them. Pip heard a chortle, and turned his head, and stepped back, unnerved by the massive, green skinned warrior standing there.
"Well well, where'd you get a kobold, Cat?" he asked, his voice gruff. Shango turned to him. "Pip? My grandfather saved him from Jhaqo's horde. I decided to take care of him. Be careful how you treat him, Wolverine, he is a Phunraz." he stated nonchalantly. The orc sighed. "A kobold? In Dothraki territory? What was he, a thief?" he asked. Shango looked to Pip. "You could say that." he said, being vague. Wolverine frowned. "You have yet to show me a fae hybrid. I expect to see one soon." he said, turning and trudging off. Pip blinked. "Why did he call me a kobold? I'm an elf." he said. Shango turned to the elves. "Hey Z!" he called. A female elf stood, walking over with a boisterous swagger that Pip had only seen used by Jhaqo's chosen women. She looked to him, and he cast his head down. "Why do you have a Kobold?" she asked.
His head shot up. "I'm an elf!" he said, angrier than he'd hoped. Her golden eyes locked into him, and her lips curved upward in a cruel, sadistic smile. "You smell like desert sands and woodlands. That's the smell of a kobold. All of your teeth are jagged, and you're below six feet tall. You have large eyes, and you are thin, thinner than most elves, which are lean muscled. Those are kobold features." she said. He frowned. "But my mom was an elf." he said. She furrowed her brow. She then nodded, turning to Shango. "Has Wolverine seen him yet?" she asked. Shango nodded. "Then you can tell the orc he's seen his fae hybrid. His ears are elven, and he's thicker than any known kobold. He's also taller than kobolds, and his skin is too elven. His teeth aren't completely sharp, and he's humanoid looking, unlike the demonic faces kobolds have." she said. Shango nodded.
"Now that we are past the unpleasentries, how about a proper introduction?" he asked, and the elf nodded. "Z, this is Pip Squeak Phunraz. Pip, this is Regina Zillah Kefira. She is the head of the dark elf group we have. Her second in command is a taller elven female named Keilantra, who many feel doesn't deserve her name." he put in nonchalantly, so as to not anger the elf. She nodded. "That name should belong to a queen, not a Lady." she said, brow furrowed. Shango nodded, rolling his eyes. "Why don't you enjoy yourself, Pip?" he said, smiling. The hybrid gulped, but nodded. Shango turned to the elf once he was gone. She rolled her eyes. "Adopting a kobold child? Are you mad?" she asked. He shrugged. "Aren't we all?" he asked. She huffed, walking past him. He turned, following her.
Pip frowned, unnerved by the large people standing around him. He decided to fade out, wander off. He headed to an empty bench, sitting at the end, so as not to draw any attention to himself. He watched elves go by, wondering why he couldn't be all elf. What was a kobold, and how had his mother been impregnated by one? The elves here looked strong, so how had a strong woman lost her child to mere humans? Had they taken her by surprise? He sighed. He heard a giggle, and looked to the other end of the bench, where a boy sat with a girl, who rubbed her face against his throat. He frowned. Why did they look so similar?
The girl caught his eye, and he turned away quickly. He didn't want to be spoken too, as he was untrusting of almost everyone. The girl spun around the boy, sitting closer to him. The boy moved closer, possibly scolding her under his breath. She laughed. "Hello." she said. He looked up a little. "H-hello." he stuttered, feeling his fear creep in. She had sharp features, and they scared him. She reminded him of a wolf, as did the boy next to her. The boy scolded her again. He caught a faint whisper of 'don't', and became even more worried. Don't what? She shrugged him off, and he frowned. "My name is Arya, and this is my mate, Bran. I noticed that you looked different than the other elves. Why is that?" she asked. He turned. "It's be-because I'm only half elf. My father was a kobold, whatever that is." he said, frowning. She nodded. "Okay. Me and my brother are Northern WereDireWolves." she said. He turned.
"Brother? I thought you said he was your mate?" he asked. She nodded. "He is. Bran is my brother and my mate." she said. Pip nodded. He sighed. "I was unaware. I haven't seen much. I was raised in a Dothraki Horde as a prisoner, then used for...unsavory deeds." he said. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well, that's all changed. I heard that Shango decided to care for you. He's a good guy. You'll never have to do anything unsavory again. Unless you want to." she said, and the boy frowned. "Arya." he said, and she turned. "What's wrong, afraid of a little competition?" she teased. He frowned, and his eyes lightened. "No. I don't share very well." he said. She laughed. "You'll be sharing with me. What's wrong with that?" she asked. Bran frowned. Her increased promiscuity was beginning to irritate him. They had already mated much more, a change in her preventing him from hearing the end of it if he refused.
"I'm not one for elves. No offense." he said, leaning around the girl to speak to Pip. The hybrid nodded. "None taken." he said. She sighed, standing and walking away. He stood, following her. He bode Pip farewell, and the hybrid sat, enjoying the sound of festivities, but never getting involved.
Sitting in a corner of his chambers, he looked across from him at the dark elf. She frowned. "I hate kobolds. And yet, your grandfather sends you a kobold, and you adopt it, instead of killing it." she said, bewildered. Shango remained calm, nodding. "Of course. I never turn down those in need. Regardless of species. If you have an issue with it, end our alliance." he challenged. She frowned. "You'd really throw away our alliance for a kobold?" she asked. He nodded. "I help those in need. And he's half kobold, half dark elf. I find it funny. Wolverine states that elves always take the high ground, finding themselves perfect beings, and yet, when something they don't like appears, he is correct." Shango said. She frowned. "I really don't like kobolds." she said. He frowned. He leaned forward. "Unless you are his mother, and you were raped by kobolds, and had your child stolen by a Dothraki Horde to become a pleasure slave, deal with it. I'm not fond of humans, and yet, as far as I'm concerned, Sansa is human, as is Aeron. But yet, they are important, isn't that right?" he stated, and she frowned. She remained silent, unable to retort. He nodded. "Now, are you his mother?" he asked. She shook his head. "Very well then. Then deal with it." he repeated.
At Storm's End, ten thousand armored, heavily armed soldiers prepared for a final assault, the final battle before they controlled the Stormlands under their king's rule. A mighty scream rang out, and they charged. Horses trampled down the grass, as men roared behind them. The gates were closed, and no men were surrounding the castle. It was odd, but the men cared not, they were going to go down in legend! A loud noise was muffled by their barreling, and then they were upon each other. Men in the shape of sharks came from behind, claws barreling across their bones and flesh. Barbosa swung his mighty hammered head, crashing it into man, breaking his armor, the broken pieces tearing into his chest. He swung his rapier, parrying with another soldier. He raked his claws across his helm, the force snapping his neck and knocking him to the ground. Barbosa spun, slamming his foot into another chest.
Aegon Targaryen the Sixth of His Name cut down a shark man, riding closer to his destination. A blur sped by, barreling into his horse, knocking him from the steed. He scrambled to his feet, frowning at what he saw. The man was large, with a massive rack of antlers atop his crown. He had the face of a stag, and the legs of one as well. Aegon stared down the Stagman, frowning. He discarded his helm, holding his longsword in his hand. He made sure to carry his shield tightly, and looked across at his opponent. "I am Aegon Targaryen, the rightful king of Westeros! Who dares challenge my claim!?" he called. The stag frowned. "I am the rightful Lord of Storm's End, Lord Indro Durrendon. Who are you to attack my castle, False King!?" he called, and Aegon growled.
He charged the man, swinging his blade down. He stepped to the side, rolling to swing his large, hooved fist at Aegon. He brought his shield up, force back by the force of the fist. He grunted, swinging in a sideways arc. The man stepped back, and threw his leg out at Aegon, who jumped back. The man continued, rolling for a second kick. Aegon brought his shield up, but he was slow, and the blow knocked his shield upwards, causing it to slam into his chest, making him stumble back. He recovered quickly, rolling and swinging low. The man jumped back, bowing his head and charging. Aegon brought his shield up, and the antlers slammed into him. Multiple points pierced his shield, and one pierced his hand. He called out. His grip on the shield faltered, and he dropped it. He jumped away from a kick, delivering a shallow cut to his cheek. He frowned, his eyes narrowing. Aegon unleashed a cry, and men ran to his aid, and the stag frowned.
Shango sat, sniffing the cold night air. He was surrounded by his group, including Pip, who looked to him. "I hate it when battle unfold without me." he stated. Z frowned. "Why? You can ask me to transport you there. I do know how to transport groups instantly." she said, glaring at him. He hummed. "Then do it. Indro's in trouble." he said. She sighed, and snapped. They ended up in a forest on the outskirts of the battle, and Shango turned to his friends. "Arya, stay here and watch Pip. The rest of you, fuck some shit up." he said, and they nodded, charging out into battle.
Wolverine made it first, his dreadlocks billowing in the breeze. He slammed his fist into a man, knocking him back. He rolled, his elbowing hitting the shield of another. The man called out, and a kick knocked a third back. The grabbed a fourth by his chest, tearing the armor from his body. His helm fell away in the blow, a fear stricken face hidden underneath. Wolverine bit the man's head clean off, spitting it out. He grabbed the man's sword, slicing a fifth clean in half as he bit the headless body, savoring the pork like taste of the man's flesh. He spat out the bone, the marrow all he wanted. He sighed, enjoying the change of pace. Though, he wished his cook was here. He liked seasoning on his human.
The elf was irritated, and it showed. She flung the chain, the dagger on the end flying through the air. It flew into a man's helm, tearing into his skull. She yanked it out, rolling as she cast it out again. It rolled, wrapping around the arm of a man, allowing her to yank him forward, where she slammed her spiked heel into his face. She drove it in, spinning to deliver a crushing kick to the chest of another man. She frowned, lifting her arm up. A massive vine shot from the ground, thrashing three soldiers who came at her. The vine rolled, crashing down onto two more. She rolled, opening her palm. Five men exploded into flame, their screams of shock, horror and agony music to her pointed ears.
The three dwarves worked as a force, eliminating foes three times as fast. Hamar swung his hammer, the man's chest crushed. Vlad moved too quick for the man to see, driving a sword he picked up into his throat. Fafnir swung his trunk like fist, staggering a soldier, where Hamar came from behind with his hammer. "Cover me Hamar!" Fafnir called, stepping back. The armored dwarf swung his hammer, knocking another man back, where he dropped. "You sure about this Fafnir?" he asked, and the dwarf nodded. Fafnir grunted, feeling his form change. His skin darkened to a sickly black, then appeared to become layered, like scales. He grew slightly, no more than half a foot, and his body thickened. Barrel like arms were thicker than most humans, and a chest so broad, it could wall a battalion. His teeth became sharp, and his nails grew, becoming sharp.
His face elongated, snapping and cracking as it formed into a lizard's head. He became hunched, two humps forming in his back. Hamar glanced back, his massive hammer having claimed at least twenty more men. The humps exploded, becoming thinner, and much longer. They fell around him, and he threw his head back, spreading his newly grown wings, and roared. He moved like a storm, spitting at a man. His armor began to erode, and he followed, the acid from his maw too great for him to handle. He swung his claws, tearing into the breastplate of a warrior, and he looked to Vlad. The dwarf hissed, his fangs longer and claws sharpened. Both dwarves swung their claws, spat and hissed, and tore and ripped at armor and flesh, blind rage overcoming them. Hamar laughed, loving his ability to tear men apart with one fell swoop of his hammer.
Shango swung his spear, which he kept on his waist, parrying with a soldier. He went under, his hand shifting into a large paw like hand, and he drove it through the man's chest. He rolled, swinging the short, broad bladed spear. The man's face was saved, but his helm rattled, knocking him off balance, where a kick from Shango's shifting leg killed him. Shango rolled, his tail exploding from his back to wrap around the arm of a man. He spun, using the man like a flail, knocking more men back. He looked to the Stag, who had the upper hand, and appeared to be toying with the human. Shango hoped not, because even toys can be dangerous.
Bran swung his claws down, disliking his lack of a weapon. He rolled, slamming his leg at a man, whose shield blocked it, but he was knocked off balance. Another gray blur went by, and Arya grabbed him with her jaws, tearing him in half. She chewed then spat him out, the armor a foul taste. She grabbed another man with her mighty paws, ripping him in half. Bran barked, scolding her. She stuck her tongue out, and he frowned. A man screamed, and Bran back handed him away. He slammed his claws through the shield of another man, ripping them out and slashing his face. Arya slashed another man, and Bran followed. She grabbed a man with her claws, throwing him behind her, where Bran caught him with his jaws, tearing him in twain. He spat the man out. She was right, armor tastes foul.
Tzimisce disliked the heat, but dealt with it. He jabbed his spear at a man, the sharp edge denting his armor. He jabbed again, catching him under the arm, where no armor resides. He called out, blood erupting from the wound. Tzimisce rolled, twirling his spear, and slammed it in a man's face, his helm unable to protect him. He pulled it out, sweeping low to knock men off their feet. The dwarves came, Fafnir slamming his wing edges into two chests, and Vlad tore at the throat, the blood appeasing him. Hamar Af Doom came, swinging his hammer down at each remaining man. The ancient man sighed, This was what he came from across the wall for. He roared, slamming his spear through the chest of a man, his emotion fueling his strike.
Shango scanned the field, frowning when he saw Arya. He moved, killing with ease and nonchalance as he walked. He swung his fist, his morphing frame increasing the power it was swung with. Rolling his wrist, Shango wondered if he should stop using the fighting style he was taught by his grandfather. It allowed him to expend little energy, but the constant shifting back and forth, even for parts of his body, would damage his human form, which he wanted to keep for at least a few more years. He heard a shout, a high pitched one, and frowned. He shifted in a split second, his massive frame causing him minor strain, and began running toward the forest, leaping from man to man. He used his weight as a catapult, vaulting himself into the air. He ran across the skulls of men, the shock of having a half ton weight bounce off of them not registering fast enough, as the weight kills them. Though, Arya would receive a therian sized tongue lashing after this.
Pip struggled, the cackling man tearing at his clothing. His sleeves had come off, and his shirt was stretched, and he felt the horrors of being in Jhaqo's horde all over again. He heard a roar, and a quick glance showed Shango rolling to his feet, facing down a massive cat, with a huge white main. A were Hrakkar, normally promiscuous sell swords across the Narrow Sea. Of course The Golden Company would have at least one. Now all hope was lost for Pip. He closed his eyes, waiting for the worst. But, it never came. His assailant screamed, and he turned. A massive gray wolf, larger than any therian he'd seen up close, tore his assailant in twain, then disappeared. The wolf man had a long face, even for a therian, and it made Pip wonder who it was.
The Hrakkar had stopped Shango, and he roared at him,. His anger building. The man lion had attacked him, and only made him angrier. The Hrakkar swung his claws down, and Shango leaned back, bringing his leg up. His head snapped back, but he leaned away from Shango's attack, coming up with his own claws. Shango pulled his arm back, throwing a kick. It struck, and the Hrakkar stumbled back. He punched, the lion's face contorting as he was struck and knocked back. He snarled, rolling and unleashing another kick. The lion leaned back, striking with his claws, opening up five small wounds on Shango's chest. Shango felt his eye's twitch, and he roared.
The roar held so much force, the battle stopped, everyone turning to watch the liger fight the lion. The liger slammed two fingers into the chest of the lion, one on each hand. Then he pulled then out, striking four more times. Each time, he struck more. Four, eight, sixteen, thirty two and finally, sixty four. The final two strikes were full palm strikes and the lion flew back from the force, the massive amount of tiny wounds leaking blood. He hit the ground, where Shango drove a stray sword into his face, roaring his victory. The battle resumed, the Golden Company deterred by the force.
The stag slammed his foot into the sword hand of the boy, breaking it and making him relinquish his hold on the blade. The stag bowed his head, and the boy laughed. "Even if you kill me, there are still fifteen thousand men on ships heading our way to fight in my name!" he screamed. The stag charged, skewering the boy. He hoisted the false king up upon his antlers, unleashing a mighty cry, causing the battle to stop. The stag lifted the sword of Aegon, and the Golden company tried to retreat, only to be boxed in by Shango's group and House Rokea. Screams rang out, and blood sprayed into the air. Men tried to flee, but none succeeded. The angry elf combined with an irritated liger made for a force of magickal power that had yet to be seen in Westeros' history. Then, after the many men were defeated, they saw the small fleet rolling in from the water. Shango frowned. He shifted back to his human form, grunting as the shallow cuts expanded, and he began to heal them. "Zillah, bring me Aeron Greyjoy." he said, hissing. She frowned, but snapped.
The seaweed haired man frowned at his transportation, but looked to Shango. "You appeared to have summoned me." he said. Shango nodded. "We have ships heading our way. House Rokea needs to check their loses and lick their wounds. You are a Drowned Man. Unleash your secrets." he said, gesturing at the ships. Aeron sighed, but walked forward. The water skin at his side was open, and his hair and hands were coated in salty seawater. He exhaled, closing his eyes. They snapped open, and he moved.
He thrust his arms up, beginning a dance that would prove useful. A column of water shot up. He spun, and the water wove it's way around him, launching itself at the ship like a missile. It tore into the hull, and he spread his hand open wide, and thrust his hand up, and a much broader column shot up, tearing the ship in twain. Before it could sink, he rolled his arm, clenching one hand on his wrist, and thrusting the open palm down. The massive column of water appear to become rapid, like a waterfall, and slammed into the second ship like a tidal wave. The ship rocked, and he removed his hand from his other wrist and rolled it, and a second column came up, destroying the second ship. He spread his arms wide, and the very sea itself split in twain, and the sands at the bottom were visible, and them he rolled his arms as he brought them down.
The sea fell back in one, the waters rolling and churning. A whirlpool formed from the friction, and the screams of men were heard as the whirlpool absorbed the final ships. Aeron exhaled once he finished the deed, and drew the water into the water skin. He turned, and Shango pursed his lips."Not bad." he said, and the magister nodded. He sighed, then turned to Arya. The wolf gulped under the liger's gaze, and he narrowed his eyes. "Did I not tell you to watch Pip!?" he yelled. He looked top the forest, where the hybrid sat waving, his outfit tattered. "What in the left fuck!" he yelled. "Weren't you being attacked!?" he called, and the elf nodded. He made the gestures of a bite, and a man screaming. Shango shrugged. "Whatever. Let's get back to Winterfell. But first, I have something to do." he said, walking over to the stag. He remained in his therian form, Aegon impaled on his antlers.
Shango took the sword from the stag, and lobbed off the head of the Targaryen. "Make sure my grandfather gets this when he arrives Durrendon." he said, and the stag nodded, shifting back to normal. 'Are you aware of the terms of our alliance?" he asked. Shango nodded. "Yes. You take Storm's End, and the Baratheon's get Dragonstone. I am perfectly aware of this, and intend to honor my grandfather's alliances." he said, walking back over to the rest of his group. He sighed, closing his eyes as they were transported back. Once back, he exhaled, his breath visible. He grunted, turning to the elf. "You need to calm down. I have calmed down, and you should follow." he said. He turned to the dwarves. "You guys were kick ass." he said, turning to the Starks. "Stop with the on battle interaction. And please, don't eat armor, It's bad for your teeth." he said, turning to Wolverine. "Pip's half elf, half kobold. There's your hybrid." he said, turning to Tzimisce.
"You kicked ass my man." he said, and then he turned to Aeron. "That was great. But, next time, less dramatics. The dancing part was unneeded, but cool anyway." he said, turning to Pip. "I need to train you somehow. But first, everybody rest and recharge your energies." he said, and the group split. Shango headed back to his room, wondering just how Pip's attacker was supposedly bit in twain.
Kefira: Ke- fear-ah
Keilantra: Kei-lan-tra
Zillah: Zei-L-ah