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[Old Blue Eyes]

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"Your mouth runs like a chickens ass."

Asimov ripped the mammoth stone out of the ground and hurled it across the field. Alastor picked himself up and took in the now-barren landscape the Firstlord had created. Trees uprooted, hills disjolted...nature interfered with. "You know I am a man of few words, Asi...but the few I use, I use often." Asimov exhaled and let the four oaks suspended in the air by his will alone, fall back to Sosaria. "It's your sense of timing that always seems to find new and innovative ways to irritate me, Alastor." Asimov snapped his head upon his charge. Alastor noted the stubble growing upon the face of the First Atalan. A razor never needed to grace the face of any Atalan, but if this some side-effect to the warbreeds longevity, Asimov would be the first to encounter it.

Alastor glanced back at Temperance, who was digging her knuckles into the freshly-turned soil. Returning to Asimov, he spat some more blood from his lungs. "Why me?" Asimov pulled a decayed, wrinkled parchment from his robes and placed it on an overturned stump. He studied it closely as he replied evenly.

"Wrong place, wrong time. Don't go reading further into it."

Alastor took another breath and slowly released it, his Atalan blood rapidly working to repair his internal wounds. "What are you talking about? I was returning home from..."

"...a night full of mead and meandering with the roundears," snapped Asimov. Alastor stifled in short order. "Worry not, Alastor, I'm not in the mood to judge today."

Temperance rose and took a position beside the senior battlemage. Resting her hand on Alastor's shoulder, she addressed Asimov. "Have you gotten this bit down yet?"

Asimov looked back to the tall female Atalan and irritably snorted. "Amadrias often questioned me about my methods, and he always received the same answer." Simultaneous with his right eyebrow arching, the last remaining oak exploded directly behind Temperance. Without flinching, she waited for the splinters to settle before replying. "Tis far easier to destroy than to create." Asi nodded slowly before returning his gaze to the penned passages. This Klevias had one hell of a handwriting...

"That was the mantra our creators held dear to...and aside from ourselves and this scripture, all that remains of their legacy lies within the very grounds I disturb."
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>=E