At the Vanguard of the Coliseum, they set upright waiting.
Orcaters in place of the Highest force of Reviathan, Shakars of the Garrick; vow and platitude of Aegis of Abyss stood strong [https://img.wattpad.com/ca524794ef021ea031381b8cac7910f849f0c126/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5a6847315a41787377315a5130513d3d2d313131363231353332322e313639626265346430653563626131623337363831313830313733352e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Orcaters in place of the Highest force of Reviathan, Shakars of the Garrick; vow and platitude of Aegis of Abyss stood strong. They formed with a basic tactical formation before the Drawbridge. Staring in front of the huge cell-looking black portcullis shut down beyond their feral eyes. First Forces behind the other councils alongside the fury of armies. The familiar Stealth killers of the Deep represent the beauty of every Shakars, the highest to the four flocks of the strength of what Aluthea represents. Not accustomed where it was usual for their eyes but the ascendancy of every drop of it is counted that it contains the expected pattern.
The Assassins of the seas are forged by what it needs to be even without a King or Queen, without a man of hundred, without a ruler, they are as strong and shunning as a shark. Men coated with the preeminent figure of a winged serpent titanium sheath of mail, spot on the taste of appraisement as the Assassins of the sea bringing much like a ton to their buffed figure, and along their waist, a trussed huge claymore.
The crowd of spear they held up high like a spring day trap, a rough black scaled rutty handle varnished with blue vines, spiraling towards the sharp block of multiple whetted armament of pride of yellow savage steel, clutched and be the crash of a ship to touch the seafloor they used underneath.
The crowd of spear they held up high like a spring day trap, a rough black scaled rutty handle varnished with blue vines, spiraling towards the sharp block of multiple whetted armament of pride of yellow savage steel, clutched and be the crash of ... [https://img.wattpad.com/3060fdc5372bb59cbd485daf3665fc40bfaa27d1/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7179316a4b546a47585f756264773d3d2d313131363231353332322e313662623036303466643132356464643536353833323930323233382e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Highly regarded erected beasts gird one's loins: Lord Reyon Orison, Lord Radir Makel; the Generals. Almeyne Zarath, Morris Naaron, Salagor Makaela, Agaal Venalia, Otter Vedal, Akeleyde of the Garrick; the Commanders of Castle Garrick. Men at the back regardless of height, the lower ranks of thirty-eight and some newly recruit men at the rear including Bradley and Arron Mirikan at their first moment to feel the glory of a heavy renowned armor before they get into a skirmish one.
A Vantage, merely alight by belly and chest above gliding the winds with their glowing giant wings, one alone with immense like it covers the whole pack as well as the castle buildings with a blanket of the legendary creature, bringing a fly of a hurricane it blew at them all. Swarm of many dragons surrounds alongside their father of monstrosity glissading the waves of wind with them. The East who brings the terror of the day and night sky never of the opposite has succumbed to their fabulous mastery.
The East who brings the terror of the day and night sky never of the opposite has succumbed to their fabulous mastery [https://img.wattpad.com/42771aedfdcb37f7b79468a8dc3e32b05f716cc2/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6f6c45384c50434d745a796d78673d3d2d313131363231353332322e3136626230363133346532613865663132343835323734353936362e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Our strength, our life, our power.
Queen Dester in company with the Lady commander of the Burning winds, Mia Magyre of Egarteh behind the horde of her formed Lady Knights counted hundred and Dragon Riders counted fifty; the same dragons which they ride on flying by the Arena above them. Shouts of people can be heard at the moment of seeing the blow of bright-colored mystical breath from the large cave-like skewer of a dragon's mouth, smokes here and there, vanish, then be revealed at every snap.
Pride pennon of Red Dragon goes like a bat out of hell taking the preponderance of the eastern realm. Stand second to the first forces of Shakars, flatter themselves aloft it caped with a sharp brass like a knife to either side of the women shoulders. Naria Zedra beside Marie Nakaela in the middle of the horde, scuffle by the prodigious barrier clothed.
Clenched by the scabbard the heaviest among the huddle of steal are the polished sharp-edged Great Swords from the finest blacksmith of Sicaris. In an army where women can carry a man's weight with their bare hands and sit atop a firedrake and hydra's back they can see, the troupe of fearless females ready to kill.
Lastly the Great Winds of Sicaris diverse vehemence with the Dark helm Bullheads of Reviathan, south power of a kind. Gather together the thin red lines are not known by many, hooded and hungry for bounty. Anonymous by the hood and visor it has the faces of men, brigandine hard as stone. Cape at such a bullyrag, long enough to stagger a foot while it hovers like a green and black stem remaining after departure.
Front by front and one by one they face the soldiers to hold sway over. Lord Reyon Orison and Mia Magyre of the north leading the front.
Joron of the Bulls and Goron of the winds leading the last, the twins united as one man after a year of five not seeing each others faces. The Dream to command, yonder, putting a smile on much of a muchness faces, handling a battalion at the identical arm of the compass rose they promised. Full to bursting a simultaneous shouting. Silence but for the orders, geared before entering the arena, they listened to the commands of the Generals.
GET READY!
ADJUST! ADJUST TO THE FRONT!
FOLLOW THE BANNER AS YOU MOVE!
Replied not by a word, with an action.
Never a command for the flying beasts but the streamed wind of the big dark one will follow their lead, resting at the flaps of its back, hiding them on sight while departing away leaving at the landmarked by the people after them.
Daybreak has come too fast before the sun shines the hindquarters of the Thousand-year-old Lordaeral Circle Arena length of two hundred and forty, stands eighty-six meters, stronghold caliber thick of two hundred and four. The ratio of the field to the backside made without any faults for the picturesque mythical games have looked as though the seats are filled to the brim and edge of the craggy rocks occupancy of twenty-five thousand spectators, munching and shouting coronating Delerium it came carrying their veins.
The Arena as old as it looks but as strong as it remains erected, not a single man or woman named the massive structure but apart from the island of Necroparkle, it also tends to be known as The place where blood runs warm or cold, where you smile or you cry, and where your fate decides if you live or you die.
Horse sculptures at the edges looking majestic with its wings licentious like a bird taking the air, nothing but cracks and burns on the side since "The Great Fire of Fusion Road", the fire to stretch Forty-eight hectares from Forest's heart to such an extent of the flame that killed almost three-four hundred people of its path plunging the depths of the woods and houses of the kin.
Sinister, unknown cause it may seem, blaming the nature believing the Sun of its prime burn the woodland they prosper. The stories and gossips go on which some said a beggar brings himself to the hug of warmth onto the darkness he intent to live in.
A night that chills in the prevalent run of the outlook even though the south is more piercing crisp like a cube of ice, but with a piece of wood he made a fire for a peaceful shelter and granting the ability to see through the shade of the greenwood, which he sets it on fire up to the time he slept, he aflame himself dragging hundreds of people burning alive, turning a small village into ashes.
The Arena Buisine blares, buzzing the wall that fabricates as if turning the current of air into a powerful sound wave.
The Great Portcullis with its end piercing sharp gouge out of the limestone, locks further down the sand as the chain contrivance swivel, hidden on the castle [https://img.wattpad.com/3936893f025a4b91730f7cd6e5cf03ade34613e7/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f73562d7747496f6e4673333051673d3d2d313131363231353332322e313639626265396634643437643435363437323635383336333037392e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
The Great Portcullis with its end piercing sharp gouge out of the limestone, locks further down the sand as the chain contrivance swivel, hidden on the castle. Bygone, the norm was also executed. By the drawbridge of the amphitheater marched down, mounted Guardsmen and Pikemen with their pennons and banner leading the way.
The forces of Sicaris and Reviathan parade, a splendor harmony riding the breeze. Buying time their metal boots initiating a vast formation facing the end of the Arena; a long, high dais where there sit and stand blue-blooded mortals including the King himself as the loftier rank at the present among them all.
Sigils of the Grand Houses are there, not only the ones of the Kingdom. At the back append its Reviathan border of a blue sea serpent skin with a purple gemstone at the center top, an indication of Aluthea's bounded Kingdom. The House Stallify known sigil still on a grasp of the Dragon's decapitated head. Before the champions they stopped, participants of the game and lastly behind them, the three, revealing on the spur of the time the new one sitting the Dragon throne. Councils of the Kingdoms, Protector of the Seal, and the Coin masters behind Agarino Stallify II.
Lady Marely: Glamorous is it, my lady.
Female Viceroy of the Former King Stallify II seated and clothed on the black gown with purple girdle belt and a hanging sleeve, whispered on Lady Marely on her right seat while drinking a glass of fine vintage wine along with the small council, guardsmen and other involved in govern enjoying the special occurrence.
Lady Vhanessa: They are.
Not saying a word tends to call a Queen or a Regent, she never believed in uttering 'Your grace' as a common norm, she is a master of the courtroom; never giving a damn to the title of the one's sitting on an imperial throne. She stands beside her.
Lady Marely: Before you got more smitten by this, tell me with a sense of you being a hand in Reviathan. Well of course, now you're not anymore at the east being a hand of a femininity, you're now a hand of a man, so you should be careful. Where we're we, have you been in there before you get crowned to the Kingdom of yours?
Lady Vhanessa: I didn't, I don't want to sit on a horseback ever. They also say riding a dragon or especially, my fear bats, the big ones...scary.
Lady Marely: Never? A grown Woman, Hand of the King never want to mount on a horseback I'm too bad to know why.
Lady Vhanessa: Never.
Vhanessa stared at the old woman, that vile gaze unmatched her beautiful gown, her thoughts of being on the spirit of royalty grow feeble. She's looking right now at someone, the best-known stateswoman of Reviathan. She tortures someone with her deadly locution.
Lady Marely: Women are well known to be the toughest or not, the most powerful amongst girls right? But riding on horseback is not a hard task for your royalty as one of the King's regents.
Lady Vhanessa: You are talking to a~
Lady Marely: Seize me all you want by the name of whoever king or queen my child, Your mother bestowed her own little girl, it's you. At the age of twelve, you should know better at that peak, she made a letter, you should be the heir on Sicaris she told me before she passes. You will receive it, soon...but well you tend to not know the real orders to be followed so she proceeds to give you here on Reviathan, I hope now you will.
The Lady of the Court interrupted, her fatal words made the Regent herself speechless.
Lady Vhanessa: You don't need to know. I may be a Regent but I'm still higher than you.
Fumed out of her mouth with a sense of wept, she remembered the time.
Lady Marely: Ohh, I expect that from you, always been rowdy. Remember that you're just here at the moment if the bet never entered the seat. Not to mention too the reason why your mother died. I will never forget the sayings, either for love or general, Truth is always kept hidden.
The heat on the verge of conversation ended when a servant serves them extra vintage and a course of shouting people. Alongside the seats are still the Saneya siblings, Artifar, standing behind them are the councils. The only woman, Lady Agratel on the left beyond the others. Lord Nely, the coin man wearing his brown loose ankle-length outer garment dusted with gold, old, reflects his short white withered hair. An expert of protecting golds, never been involved a steal, generous why he's known. the Coinman expressed with worry,
Lord Nely: Don't talk to your aunt like that Vhanessa, Lower rank, she is, but she is higher on your family, she cared for you at the time when you are a girl. Now, keep yourself up, you're not at the spot where King Agarino left his badge down in flames, pay respect, your grace, you're too old to act like a kid.
Stopped something being overheard by the coliseum, stronger than a Dragon's roar it crashes down their ears. Waiting, whispers presuming something is showing up beyond the Arena's massive block. Dust it sways like a tornado, the last trumpet blows away, horsemen at the portcullis waited for the last drop of it, then made progress with their feet. Mounted on the high horse, run by a big brown armored Destrier one after the other, clambered up the unshown faces of three pristine.
The crowd never knew who is who, the armor shrouded the three figures and faces. Horse charges like it were on a battle, strong, stomping the ground outwardly rains the sand that mists the gaming strip. Round and Round, racing the horseshoes it brings and clashing of iron on the horse's body. A chilling breeze of the morning has no match for it, dying off.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
None of them, even the people watching from the front platform knew besides the Former King who declares it, didn't know the man or a woman behind the helmet with a plume of red, blue, and black. WHO'S BEHIND THE HELM! WHO'S BEHIND THE HELM! WHO'S BEHIND THE HELM!
Chanting the enchanted scenery while mimicking a phase of the chivalry time trial.
Chanting the enchanted scenery while mimicking a phase of the chivalry time trial [https://img.wattpad.com/6af4c4f7f45a4de7ef8ce5b0c21ef4d953f48b23/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f77725743464c4b497a5a626f61513d3d2d313131363231353332322e313639626265653865616464653865333137373537303738393933362e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
The Throne room is waiting for you!
brought us none but fare and the food,
First time's fine while baking the pie!
After we eat, they still gonna lie.
Over and over voicing up from ridicule to insolence while the race is still on the run of the clock.
Her name's Rio! she watches from her mount,
Dragon flying! what a waste of clout,
Here goes Sandra! shut your eastern mouth,
Then there's Raven! go back to little cart.
The right or the other brought the chanting heat of mockery to the three contenders over and over.
Hello Sandra...HELLO SANDRA!
HEEEEEYYYYYY! GOODBYE!
Raven's sword still on the sheath, disrespected not living but the beholder did. It is a funny succession worth listening to except for the candidates.
YOOHOO RAVEN! Can we break your steel?
YOOHOO RAVEN! Can we make you yield?
YOOHOO RAVEN! Can he make you kneel?
CAN WE, CAN WE YEAH!!!
Lordaeral counted much as five castle horns but not too much that even the Amphitheater has two, rolls it out of the crowd to stop the unnecessary chants that echo throughout the corners of the spot. They can't do anything but stop them, not showing the violence against their dirty mouths at the only moment. Foods have been given by the servants and the peasants; meats, fruits, and probably drank more beer than the amount on the city lake.
They must be thirsty or as likely as not getting it in the everyday routine of the dark ages, people with power or the occult joined can only have it day by day if they wished to. Red Wines are a staple so is they served them with that while on the layered seats. Smoke venison, turkey, beef, when there is a red-letter occasion, especially coronation, the foods delivered free are as expensive as what high eminent people normally get, people seem to be at the exact time when getting a whiff of the savory.
Halted before the dais of the high mortals, by the eye of the Former King they bowed, not listening to the chants and gossips whatsoever, respect all class they manifested. Smoothened the essence by one swing of the bow, dropped the token of vail to make the frame of people move up the ladder. A sun struck, the Gods stare and blew at them, giving seraphic wind of daydream undulating underneath the light blue sky.
Every clack of twelve periods bound upon the eight reformations, eight arrows of men, unknown, hooded with black can be seen. The bow seems to be the size of them bared beyond the palm clothed in grey rough silk. They all watch silently as the sound of the gates at the side each of four, set foot the field, stood beside the column of forces after the march.
Children never saw but heard this, the proletariat, veterans, the old ones, and people which venture into the land of supremacy are the only onlookers who know the reason and purpose of the eight, eight with one's identity concealed having one's grasps to the key of hereafter revealing the implausible features of the divine being hiding behind the precious clouds.
Agarino II: Welcome back, to the Land by Lordaeral, at the East we are here at the Arena. For now by no means of games but to revelation at the tick of the clock. The recognition for two is still held, that's why they're here. Once the grand bell rang, one must go to either side. The Last one, wait for the two to clear off in front where you stand for the new one to kneel at.
Keeping it high but not left its way to the city spectators, thousands of them. The once called King left struggled with his unmovable leg, supported by staff he can go places by fair means or foul.
Lord Artifar and the King's guard after the others; Sir Morgar Hazer, Sir Renggy 'the dyad eye' Godfrey, and Dame Harya Quarin one of the women of the King's guard.
Two men held a prisoner for Raven Venalia to show magic before the crowd's eyes. Queen's guard of the east never stepping back from the royal defend beyond the eyes of the Western Guards. Larion Rorke, Sir Rommir Warmer, Sir Yeris Kalton the sigil sent to the press of dragon on their chest plate and black helm, not a face can be seen but eyes up close to the helmet carved of a Dragon's head. Once called him the Chief of Kingsguard but just a lump of mind is missing, even so, a whole load of brawniness on the complete pack with him at the left.
Keeping an eye on the high lords swear an oath for the only moment in the name of Queen Dester, guiding the Herd of Forces, now approach the stairs. Held Sir Ragarik his sword and tap three on the polished elevated stone floor to sign the bell ringer at the top of the arena to ring it, counted by the seen of taps.
Wobbles and Echo, the iron casing shrouded with the sound of elimination, from three to two, remain the two. Take oneself off the virgule of competitors the red plume helmet, armor-sealed figure. Step by the horse onto the right revealing itself, revealed that she never obtained the title as the ruler of the Land. Not obvious or yes, her armor suits her beauty well, Sandra Saneya of Kingdom Sicaris, bowed still with honor owing to the time-served title for once in her lifetime, now going for the Hand of her sister, replacing her with Lady
The King did not accept her for the throne.
Remains the two, high hope by the sky it shines brilliant pointing down by the mounted duad, about to fence off from another next exhilarant iron clap. The other turn left as soon as waved one more ring be told it to move the stallion. Filtered the sound of the tumult of standers, watchers. The smell of vivid torture also employing a bittersweet relish, on one more blast, it'll reveal who will be the man or woman of honor.
True heir on little seconds it will let slip. Nothing has happened but both unmounted, by the side ease off the horse and taken by the herdsmen. Without a split of the sand clock, the black blemished helmet ironclad steps its way to the platform, everyone on its foot made a smile.
Who will it be? Miss everything but a face. From the back of the Arena, they still see it. People still eating but slowly, enraptured, focused, and still like a stone they gazed carefully.
Nefera of House Roagen, the mistress of ceremonies. The voice is suitable by her strict heart face, clothed with knee-length dark brown Gabardine over her sleeveless doublet and shorts of black and gold covered with medium pteruges. She shouted to announce for the people and council to be worthy, Agarino II himself commanded her to, as if her voice is as loud to roar the titles in demanded to them.
Nefera Roagen: Step foot beside me. Both of you, the rise your helmets in the count of three rings of the bell.
The contender clasp towards the mistress, the day had come. Facing the stream from head to end of the seats and seems to be never-ending. Looking at the crowd occupied their eyes by the only one with a shining silver helmet, heart-pounding, this man or woman could make or break another eight years of life for the realm. Another pounded from a sword tap, it rings by one, by two, by three.
Finally, something pleasant has been revealed. Melodies of birds aboard the wind of the morning are in sync with the people's celebration. Chanted lively, widely heard that even the Dragons came back. Agarino II gets himself out of the circle of royalty and passed it to the new. Never knew, here he is, the crowd chanted his name like never before.
ALL HAIL KING RAVEN! ALL HAIL KING RAVEN!
ALL HAIL KING RAVEN! ALL HAIL KING RAVEN!
Claps of five in between, not any time he cares about the things thrown unseen and unhit from his back, but the glamour of the Crown.
Sit before him, before the seat of power.
Purple amethyst, Violet sapphires by four encompassing the golden royal king's crown, worn by many Kings and Queens of Reviathan [https://img.wattpad.com/7d0306a5489364deeecbcceb7c11d6da6fdb12d2/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5151664d4350706256396e5049413d3d2d313131363231353332322e313639626266373932643335376539363739303834323635323732362e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Purple amethyst, Violet sapphires by four encompassing the golden royal king's crown, worn by many Kings and Queens of Reviathan. Come into being the first one who has the diadem atop of its head, the First ruler of Reviathan one hundred and forty-four ago, Queen Marleigh of Crystalys. From the south, she came to be the Queen by introducing the Frozen arrows of her land, dealing and written the first forces of the Kingdom.
King Raven Venalia, First of his name, The Right honorable heir of Kingdom Reviathan has come into place.
Nefera Roagen: State the prayer, introduce yourself to the Moon Gods. You will be the new man who will hand all, you will be the healer, influencer, and the people's custodian, watchman, swear by the Gods of the Moon.
He closed his eyes, this is it. No wrangle or misunderstanding between his entrants, Rio Hallery of Egareth and Sandra Saneya, Princess of the East; by the side they stood. A single magic sword, an allegory of wizardry, won many eyes of the people. The smell of morning breeze filled the sacred oil of the Moon Gods, the noise of the crowd covered by the sound of the grand bell. It must be one of the men of reverent, Furano, he must whisper his oath with the Clergy in front of him,
Furano: Close your eyes and utter before me the oath by the name of God.
Thy truly and sincerely raises my crown, avow, and swear in my conscience before God of the Moon and my country. I, Raven Venalia, the true man, true protector, true heir, and truly be seated in the throne of the Dragon that keeps royalty. From given power granted for my country, my God has seen me unvanquished before his eyes. I, who never dismayed the heart of many people, my kin, I swear my life for the constitution, my seat, I swear my own blood will never perish many. The things which I have here before I commit myself, I will execute and will continue to be from this day, until the end of my days. May the Moon Gods help me.
The Games
Eaten, the break of the fast has given the champions the vitality they needed. The King in his seat, well being by the Face of Moon Gods and by the face of the middle-aged former king who surrendered himself for a new man, vanished by the stage. Commanders of every force, give orders to parade in close order in four by the side.
Fixing their positions entering the dredged black gateway borders to make way and valiant appearance for the key holders. The shadow-looking trail of the hood of the unknown eight, raising the mystical bow up in the air with intimating magic, with feathers of a colossal at either end, amalgamated black and violet within the bounds of the recurved fantastical weapon.
The shadow-looking trail of the hood of the unknown eight, raising the mystical bow up in the air with intimating magic, with feathers of a colossal at either end, amalgamated black and violet within the bounds of the recurved fantastical weapon [https://img.wattpad.com/f26ee6938e7e165e3d36b42856ad489ce58b2c9b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f496b577963424e6657714a4d72673d3d2d313131363231353332322e313662623036333235363739353830653737383936363733313632342e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
The sun has gone down in immediate as they point at it, then begins a reformed dark circular cloud above them. Unusual, looking really atypical for a not old stager. Why eight? Why Sinister? Why does there need to be them to shoot it?
The Book relies on it, The book depends on it as long as you know your page and accept the relevance or insignificant part of history, the times have gone by. The gods write the chapters where the persona wants the ink to be, then the readers are the only one who needs to end the story. Eight arrows with glitters of power it ascended before and beyond the clouds within it a thunder, a white bright light it opens like a sliding circular door, never blinding, bright but the eyes can endure it.
Their eyes, showing the way to fascination, subulating the sky. If it never shot, hit, the games will never start unless the arrows loose. A voice roar down the Arena, a deep mild god-like voice falls sharply by their ears ringing it not rupturing, as if the voice is all over the place and it bounces back. It was ahead of the time, it is always him, it is always the face of the clouds which cause to shift the field into a devastating thunderstorm as if it was another tribune dimension. Stopped stuffing and talking, stopped chatting and around looking, all shocked and mouth opened.
Stopped stuffing and talking, stopped chatting and around looking, all shocked and mouth opened [https://img.wattpad.com/5f702d4b840c70f363f1cc781ea5bf4cab931345/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f58764a695771716c4c6f484a38773d3d2d313131363231353332322e3137306133353734333732343664646334363437363339343530322e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
A Humongous face appeared. We have gathered, again! the voice deep and very loud. The dome of the world as loud as it gets, the barrier bounces between them all, face-shaped with the arena superlatively.
Bring...one in every, gate...your champions must by...ready for the games.
Excitement ever forces volunteers can join.
Jousting tournament, Bat and Dragon Riding tournament, Maze of magic, Bear Wrestling, Catch-the-stones, and lastly, Enchanted Sword...fights. without a split and blink, the ground starts to shake. Quadruple strip line for the list field having a drill from the bottom rises the fence made of steel, not an ordinary jousting border anymore. The contenders of the Horse games by two, for the win of a Nakilaes.
Lord Nely: A Hundred bet for every winner your grace? That would never be a pity for the players.
By his seat he sips his drink and eats the glamour of food.
King Raven: Triple that up for the champions, aid and abet them on cavalry, Lord Nely. Another thing, it seems to be all are willing. Thus tell the commanders that all the games presented are open for the women, men are stronger than them, yes, but smarter. Let them enjoy the games and show their talent, thank you.
Before the coin man step foot on the back of the dais for obtaining the bet. Morgan Hazer of House Hazer, part of the Bullhead Knights, the biggest among them all, nasty and violent by wrestling and killing two big bears in the arena. Blood-soaked and wounds appear he can endure.
They Jousted with Salagor Makaela of Shakars of the Garrick, an elite swordsman and the smartest man of the barracks, any number of men's morris he can play with him can easily beat anyone, got out of the mazes of magic without any trouble [https://img.wattpad.com/98c2d8f06fe786bedcd899bfb54c8bfd9be2a7e0/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f344c376f763432525a495a5777773d3d2d313131363231353332322e313662346439613436353932633964663930353136353632303137382e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
They Jousted with Salagor Makaela of Shakars of the Garrick, an elite swordsman and the smartest man of the barracks, any number of men's morris he can play with him can easily beat anyone, got out of the mazes of magic without any trouble. Although the maze had a lot of deadly traps of fire, shards of ice, and lethal mechanics, got out without a hitch.
Although the maze had a lot of deadly traps of fire, shards of ice, and lethal mechanics, got out without a hitch [https://img.wattpad.com/05826b2e2ace0ad74ab1498be646053e888a0db2/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6d316a55794558615064672d44413d3d2d313131363231353332322e313662623036373330313032633964663233393630393635333435322e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Both at the end of the first column. Roger Hazer of the same house, two years older than Morgan, part of the Bullhead Knights rode a bat for the game of bats, in squarrel with Jacken Badburn, known as the Fire, lover of Sandra Saneya of Kingdom Sicaris. Chase and throws stones and arrows penetrating, arduous with a lot of bats surrounds them. Swordfight, the common, rare in the event with a twist of magical powers within the sharp-edged blade.
Wyatt Caract, adventurer and archer of the South, brother of Nigel Caract, Son of Rogar Ominar the one's lost bearing [https://img.wattpad.com/1e319fe8f927c88e86baf0861657e9870e17b09e/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f535238475632396a6974307373673d3d2d313131363231353332322e313662623036346561336534656266373432393330383230383930302e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Wyatt Caract, adventurer and archer of the South, brother of Nigel Caract, Son of Rogar Ominar the one's lost bearing. Fighting against the Women of Egareth, Zayen Nakaela the Dragon Maiden of Sicaris, great single-handed one's lance at her grip with ease. Dominant on her fights with a dragon in control within her, together with the other brave talented ladies Ragina Nakaela, Rialy Leyrogel, Klarissa Brexton of the named houses.
Dominant on her fights with a dragon in control within her, together with the other brave talented ladies Ragina Nakaela, Rialy Leyrogel, Klarissa Brexton of the named houses [https://img.wattpad.com/68b03dbcc5103ed3b2ef6e8e85e0fe46647f4527/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6d447a4b416b4d455753483267513d3d2d313131363231353332322e313662346439633663366161656433333834373438363333323339392e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Splash and Mash the Arena with bright lights of magic, battering shields on swordplay blazes ember of purple and dark red, majestic. Play of Dragons by Rio Hallery she joined as her valuing Raven's reign. King's and Queen's Guard, Castle guards, Knights and nobleman, joined the royal get-together. Many games in one single field, at one and the same time by either side there is entertainment made years ago.
None of them, not a single person away from the council can see the imagery and allegory of history of the stones. One game occurred by different stones take by force, take one or take the other, got taken or be taken under. While laughing, fascinated by the games full of hue and shade of magic, but not looking at the side of dying people because of the sake of entertainment; bathing over their own blood, burning over dragon's puff, summon before the magic of wizardry favors.
Magic is always at the hand of every fighter, but the victory is always obtained by the ones who knows how to play the game.