The click of greaves against polished stone was graceful and delicate. The polished marble reflected the glow of the Star Goddess's descent, a brilliant cast of moonlight marking her presence in the hours of darkness. Akryanus now stood before a magnificently crafted temple of vines, a looming arch hovering above two large wooden doors, their colors rich and brown in contrast to the cold hues of the night.<br/><br/>This was her time of power. When the great light of the sun vanished below the horizon, giving a farewell kiss to the rest of the world by bathing it in crimson and violet, the many pins of white from up above came into view one by one. Their light individually non-sequential, but together they created a radiance of beauty unlike many of the other aspects of this world, and a danger to behold along with it.<br/><br/>Stars did not fall during the day, but in the darkness their grace upon the mortal world was one of raw cutting power, able to pierce and run through almost any mundane element without the lightest hint of effort. It was this ease of grace that she held in the darkness, for without any greater light to interfere with her own she was the brightest and highest image within the heavenly sky.<br/><br/>Her gauntlets touched the wooden surface, running over it a moment with the light tips of her metallic claws before her palm dressed and pushed forward. Her spear always was held at her side, gripped in her right hand as she creaked the doors into submission.<br/><br/>The sound of metal rustling and yelling rushed into her ears, the armored Knight stopping a moment as a breeze of pressure changes in the air flowed through her feathered collar. A moment of thought was considered before she pushed on-wards, the long feathers about her hip-line waving off after her. Torches brought some light to the inside chambers - which was otherwise hidden away from the view of the sky - and a scene of rivalry introduced itself to the horned-appearing deity.<br/><br/>Two Knights clashed against each other in a grappling of limbs, fists being thrown from one to the other as obsidian, sleek robes and light plating grinded against bright shining tones of thick copper. A young voice of a man cried out from the later to the former, growling as he lifted his arm and tried to throw an elbow of a jab into the darker figure's throat. His target was swifter, moving back and just out of his reach before he retorted with a swipe of his own, his forearm meeting against the visor of the coppery bronze helm and throwing it off with a burst of force. Her eyes followed the rolling of the helm until she found it resting before her feet, glancing back up as she watched a teal cape swerve about in frustration of the move played against him.<br/><br/>They had not noticed her yet, an amazing feat considering they should have been otherwise always aware of one each other. Their rage must have blinded them in this instance, and the Goddess dipped down to pick up the helmet with a a slight bend of her knee before she continued her steady approach.<br/><br/>The darker, hooded and masked opponent met her gaze first, immediately springing back to the shock of the other before he dipped into a low bow, his arm folding against his own chest in salute. Short locks of light brown hair tied away into a small ponytail beyond many wispy layers flowed forward in surprise, having halted his own movement before a glimmer of green hues turned to meet the Star Goddess in addition; He too fell to the ground in a bow of shame. Akryanus shook her head a few times, motioning for them to stand in the most un-regal of manners before she offered back the helmet to the young Knight.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FFFF">"Helfin, Julian. You need not ever bow in front of me, I have expressed that many a time before."</span>The calm and steady male voice of Akryanus called out, watching as the one known as Julian slowly rose and took the helm into his arms, averting his gaze from his uplifting Elder God.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FFFF">"Why were you fighting?"</span>She inquired, though her attention turned to Helfin, the most quietest and swiftest of her Demigods, for the answer.<br/><br/>He was taller than both Julian and herself, and had a slim and athletic figure that could be noticed even under his light-weight gear. He had functioned more as an assassin or a scout than a Knight in his mortal years, but it was his devotion to her like all of his kin that led him down the path of service to his kingdom and lords. Eventually, Akryanus had seen such and brought him up from the Soluunar; She recalled the time she had found him as but a child in the woods, alone and starving without a family to care for him before delivering him personally to what Lebidan had been at the time. They considered him blessed for her involvement in his life, and Helfin had not forgotten her. She in turn had not forgotten him.<br/><br/>"He does not take criticism well, Sir Akryanus." His harsh but quiet voice answered out from the black, featureless fabric masking he wore over his face, lightly lined with a thin covering of the same black metal that coated his robes. "He decided to take it out with physical force, a response I was forced to reply to."<br/><br/>Julian stared off at him with disdain before his pleading gaze met hers, and he shook his head in retaliation. "Not critisism, Sir Knight! He let out<span style="font-style: italic">direct</span>insults towards me and my ability! Called me young and inexperienced!"<br/><br/>Julian was just slightly shorter than her when she was armored. He had the face of youth, his cheeks and chin clean shaven and possessing large eyes and soft features. His armor was thick enough to be considered full and strong, teal fabrics lining his hips and the color returning in the tone of his cape. Like the others, she had known him since he was but a child on Soluunar, though he had been returned to his family ranch once he had gathered the courage to describe his home to her. He then worked hard to put himself forward as a Knight, and against all odds considering his commoner blood he was raised up into the order. Unlike Helfin, he wasn't fast or swift with his movements. Instead, Julian focused on his ability with a great-axe to take down his opponents, carrying momentum with each of his swings.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FFFF">"Whatever the reason, I do not wish to see our brotherhood in petty physical brawls. Find other ways to settle your differences."</span>Akryanus replied calmly.<span style="color: #80FFFF">"Orweind would be ashamed to see you two like this, had he still had the grace to touch the Upper Regions." </span>She was not afraid to summon her Eldest Demigod's name against them.<br/><br/>Though the other pair of her four Twilight Knights were now fallen and spending the rest of their time upon Soluunar, it was Orweind in their earliest years that had taken the time to explain the ways of their kin each time a new brother had been added to their squad, training with them when Akryanus could not and ensuring they were comfortable in their new immortal nature. Orweind was one the other three looked up to in all regards, and her third Demigod, Bolgarus, was currently patrolling with him as she spoke to these pair at the moment. She knew that if the need to prove themselves to her was not enough, the embarrassment and scolding of Orweind would do the trick.<br/><br/>Her heel turned, walking off to the side before she sat herself down on a raised platform, an assortment of weaponry and tools spread about the area. Bringing her spear into her lap, her gauntlet reached over and grasped a nearby sharpening stone, grinding it against the blade of her weapon without any more words. They would be left in their thoughts about how they were behaving, and nothing more.<br/><br/>___________________________________________________________________________________________________<br/><br/><br/>Morigan turned at the sound of a horse moving fast against the earth, his dark steel helmet settling on the image of a heavily wounded soldier bleeding out, his eyes in a bath of desperation and duty. The Knight's own gaze narrowed as the Prince caught him from his call, cradling him away as he announced his news of trouble.<br/><br/>"Tu…utar. Scouts… missed them. Mo…more than we th-thought. The wom…women…childre…en,"<br/><br/>The helm turned to the Prince, watching as he announced what appeared to be a prayer after the man fell silent and into his last slumber. He watched as he announced his steed, the words immediately driving a spark of activity within the otherwise cold and distant stone of a Knight. To battle, and so soon... This war would not disappoint him. Without a word to his kin or superiors, he too moved off the the edge of the camp, his squire sitting along in wait besides his own beast before he saw the young man's eyes dart up with surprise, standing up upon his two feet.<br/><br/>"My lord?" He addressed, but Morigan waved him off.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF0000">"Men!"</span>He announced to the squadron of soldiers he had brought with him, under his command as a troop leader.<span style="color: #BF0000">"Saddle your horses. We ride to battle!" </span><br/><br/>He did not wait for them. His body swung up with ease upon the saddle of the steed, his greaves kicking off into the sides of the animal and forcing it into a lurch of motion before he steered it off and after the Prince. They would catch up in due time, and not disappoint him. A flurry of brief dust followed off after the darkly armored Knight of a Lord, his red cape flapping in his swift and lightning ride away from the camp, and towards the awaiting violence.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>It was a glorious sight to behold. Death, destruction, panic and the smell of steel and iron. As the troops all arrived and the Prince rain into the fray of battle, Morigan had to stop his steed for a moment to scope out the sights. With a stern nod to himself, he then made his dismount; His arm reached up and upon the handle of his two-handed great-sword, pulling it forth from the sheath as he slowly made his in turn after the rushing soldiers.<br/><br/>Never rush an attack, always plan. Scout the way they moved their weapons, learn where they carried their weight and how they brought their attacks on the opponents. Where were their openings? How large of a window did one have to take advantage of them? These were all the thoughts going through his mind as the duelist pulled his way forward, a high degree of interest in the new prey that was the Tutari hoard. Good opponents for him. Perfect and brute, bred for battle. A seasoned challenge, as if gifted from the Gods themselves.<br/><br/>They were violent. Their attacks had all of their power behind them, and they were strong and capable, but there was desperation and impatience in their movements. They relied on their strength and size to get to their prey, and they were not careful with their strikes. They were easily predictable.<br/><br/>The first came at him from the front. The slow movement must have made the human man mistaken for shocked or unready, though the Knight was far from it. As a large axe came down from above him, a snarl of fangs and thick skin bending with his muscle. Morigan raised his sword and lined the power all the way down. His steps were calculated and smooth, his body shifting to the side as he watched the shoulders of the Tutar move as expected - with the power of his strike, and lagging behind it due to such over-pressed power - and Morigan took this advantage to bring his blade up and against his flesh from his now side strafe along the Tutar's right.<br/><br/>Blood and skin was torn apart and drawn from the movement, his first kill falling down and onto the dying grass and dirt before he moved against his next. A spear-man this time, thrusting forth his weapon with the same high aggression as the previous. Another side-step was brought, quickly placing his weight against the pole of the weapon as he played a coy against his opponent, making the beast lurch forward in hopes of taking another strike at him. He was net with the flick of the blade digging into his throat, his steel armor sprayed a dark crimson.<br/><br/>Morigan existed for battle, every reason for it was an excuse. He had taken the honorable route, knowing that it would bring him forward to the wars and great clashes of weapons that he so craved, but this did not mean that he thrived off of the satisfaction of protection. His sights had ignored the innocent, the women and children they had been called to protect from the Demonic troops of fury. He only cared for the action, and anything else was simply a cause to an effect that he could reap the benefits from.<br/><br/>As he tore further through some of the enemy front-lines, he brought his sword up and out of the nape of one of his fallen foes as he looked on-wards. Many more awaited, and he had already watched a number of his allies been ripped apart by the same monsters he was fighting against. He did not know if their might would be enough to cover this offensive, but pushing forward was the only option that they had, and the only option he would consider. Raising his painted blade, he carried on and brought it against more hard metal.