Gravel crunched beneath Vrael's boots. His palm rested on the pommel of Tamerlain. The Leviathan has risen, and he could not have cared less. He continued forward, slinking silently in the shadows avoiding eye contact with anyone. He unsheathed his sword to admire the skill put into it, revealing a good nine inches of steel, before it sank back into the darkness. He walked up to Malikai, "Sir, I have arrived. What is your bidding?"<br/><br/>******<br/><br/>Sparks flew from the ground. A burning star within a double ring was emblazoned on the forest clearing. "Folding, quenching, heating, folding, quenching, heating, bending, heating, tempering, heating, folding, quenching, heating," The brightsteel shifted, glowing red when heated, returning to its original blu-ish grey colour.<br/><br/>"There he is! Sieze him!" "Burn the heretic!" Figures charged into the clearing.<br/><br/>Vrael's chanting increased in speed, "Blade polishing, hilt mounting, secure blade," The smoke wavered and dissipated revealing a sword. It glowed unholy red.<br/><br/>Vrael waved the sword menicingly, a man charged towards him. Vrael sidestepped and cut him in the ribs, there was no effort involved, yet, the blade cut through the man the same way a warm blade does to butter.<br/><br/>A man stepped forward, keeping a safe distance from Vrael, "Begone heretic. The townsfolk banish you for the practice of fel-magic." The symbols on the ground pulsed one final time and faded away, just like their caster, who faded into the shadow of the forest admist the shouts and jeerings of men.