Warren twirled the scythe in front of him, catching the volley of explosions. It pushed him back several feet, his heels digging into the ground, smoke drifting off his clothes. "Now that's more like it!" He swung his partner toward the ground, using her as a pole vault to sling himself higher up. Halfway through the air, his train of thought was lost completely.

Nope! Long John Masterbomb says you have to go to maintenance.

For a second he blanked out and it looked like he was going to collide with Hitler full force, but at the last instant he brought the scythe around to slice at the kishin egg's jetpack.

Silene stared at the wreckage where the boy had been slammed through the desk, slightly concerned. "Is he alright?" The wood had been completely shattered, and she hadn't seen the kid move since it happened. She hoped he was just unconscious, he hadn't even done anything.

"Probably." Warren shrugged, popping a fresh piece of gum into his mouth, still sitting at his desk and listening to the teacher lecture about collecting kishin eggs. "I don't see why he bothered rounding them up, seems like too much effort." As the instructions drew to a close, he slowly rose to his feet."Lets get down there and get this over with."

"Oh, so now you're eager to work?"

Warren nodded in turn, eyes glinting darkly. "I'm not gonna work,." His wavelength suddenly took a darker, more violent vibe. "I'm gonna blow it to smithereens."

Silene laid a firm hand on his shoulder. "Warren..." Through their connection she felt the tempo of his wavelength slowly lull back into its normal tempo. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I've got it. Hurry up and transform, before we get called out." Warren held out his hand. In a flash of blue light she changed into her scythe form. Warren spun her expertly, kicking up a small gust of wind around him. The familiar feel of her soul pushed back the last of his clouded thoughts, leaving his mind completely clear. He selected a cage at random and took his place in front of it.

"Be careful, Warren."

"Will do."

"Hey Warren, what do you think the new headmaster is like? ...Warren? Hey, are you listening to me?" Silene glanced over at her meister to find him with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring off at nothing. "Hey, wake up you lazy bum!" She shoved him lightly.

Warren barely stumbled, glancing over at Silene through half-lidded eyes. "I dunno, I heard one of them's pretty goofy. Other one's a bit of a hard-ass though, if you believe the word of the street." He slouched, looking back up at the clouds and absent-mindedly chewing on his gum. "Why don't you just chill until they come out to greet us?"

Silene shook her head, bringing her hand away from her mouth to rest at her side. "You're so lazy! Do you get excited about anything?"

He half-grinned in response. "I like blowing things up." Before she could respond, he held out a stick of gum decorated with cartoony skulls."Chew on this, it'll help calm you down."

Silene sighed, then smiled and popped the piece of gum into her mouth. He was right, it really did help.

No ya can't, asshat. I hereby claim this land in the name of Blades the Fourth.

The first swing glanced Daylin's shoulder, knocking his pauldron out of place. He noticed too late that it was a feint, though, when a headbutt smashed into his face and sent his helm flying backwards.

It was a hell of a shot. Outside of throwing his helmet off, which left him feeling exposed, his nose was busted and his vision swam. Blood dripped into his mouth and he spat out the coppery tasting fluid, stumbling backwards for his axe.

Fortunately, the orc had been drugged and, though he resisted it due to his massive statutre, it slowed him down. By the time he mustered to give chase, the former slave was across the arena and grabbing his axe.

Daylin stood straight, eyes red with rage, and stared his opponent—some mindless ogre who couldn't see straight—right in his big bleary eyes. The captain tried to intimidate him, but he was beyond the point of fear. He wanted revenge for the still-bleeding wound.

“You... are..." Daylin took a lurching step forward with each word. On the third, he swung: “dead!”

The blow was going to hit, the farmhand knew the second he swung it. It shattered green-skinned bastard's breastplate, lodging the head of the axe deep in his chest. He didn’t fall—sweet Maker how was that possible—but he was sent reeling back.
 
The farmhand pulled the axe free and winded back for another shot. The orc beat him to it, the heavy club smashing into his side. He struggled to stay on his feet. The club rose and fell again, and this time Daylin collapsed.

Then, he stood again.

It was unreal. Between the pain in his chest and the general confusion (he felt drunk), the sight of the human on his feet after the patented Tudagub-club sent the orc into a panic. He threw another swipe that Daylin ducked, then another that the man swung under again—and then responded in turn with a strongarmed uppercut.

Click. The sound of the captain’s upper and lower rows of teeth making unplanned contact rang out. Still, he kept his feet. Daylin stared in horror, how was it poss- slowly, chest gushing blood and eyes rolling, the orc fell backwards. He sighed in relief, using the axe as a makeshift-crutch and gazing around the gathering, face stained with blood. His vision fell upon the reason all of this was going on.

“Coward,” Daylin swore again at the chief, his throat sore from the effort of speaking that single word.

She kept up her end, Daylin realized. The drugged orc teetered forward and swung at him, but he backpedaled and the blow went wide. Seeing his opening he threw a punch at his opponent's face, and was met with a satisfying crunch.  The warrior stumbled, reeling from the blow, and he lashed out with the pommel of his axe.

Crack! His axe hit its mark, silencing the jeering crowd that had gathered around them. The captain collapsed, clutching at his head and groaning, his blood mingling with the sand. Daylin planted his boot firmly on the orc's back, glaring at the chief, "Was that really needed? I just want to talk."  The thrill of combat was getting to him, white-hot adrenaline pumping through his veins on overdrive. He was struggling to keep his head.

Was it real, Daylin wondered, as he trudged towards the fields with two big buckets in either hand. It had really seemed to be. His muscles still ached from stomping around in that heavy armor, but Floressa had once told him that if someone thought about something enough, their mind would try anything to make it real. He had checked on her before he left home; she was soundly asleep in her bed, and he didn't have the gall to wake her. He was nervous to even mention it to her, afraid she might think him crazy. His only solution was to see if he went back tonight, as the goddess had told him he would. For once, he was glad for the backbreaking work ahead of him.

When the farmhand reached the fields, two pairs of blank eyes stared at him. The dairy cows were big, fat animals and their udders sagged with milk. Should have been out here last week, he chided himself, they've probably been in a lot of pain. As if they could read his thoughts, one of them mooed loudly, and he patted her on the head. "C'mon girls, lets get ya fixed up." They followed him slowly, stopping to graze the grass and wandering off at times. Daylin was very patient, used to their absent-mindedness, and they eventually got to the barn. He rested his enormous bulk upon a wooden stool, which groaned in protest, and beckoned the closest cow over.

The buckets were all filled by the time he was done, and he cautiously lead the cattle back to the grazing fields, careful not to spill anything. The trip back to the house was harder, since he had to hop the fence that kept the animals in, but he managed it without incident. He noticed a familiar figure waiting on the porch as he arrived. "Hey, need anythin'?"

The woman shook her head and tutted at him, wagging her finger as she scolded, "Daylin, you don't have to do all this on your own. All you have to do is ask for help," she reached out and took two of the buckets from him before he could protest. "It's not healthy to wake up as early as you do and not even stop by for lunch!" She lead him inside, tossing the door open and motioning for him to lay the buckets in the corner.

"I've told ya before, I'm used to gettin' up that early and I bring food out with me."

"Nonsense! It's not good for you to work so much, it'll make you old before your time. Come join us for lunch, there's nothing else to be done around here today!" She left little room to argue, and he awkwardly shuffled into the kitchen, resting himself on one of the chairs. Diodoros sat across from him, and his gaze rested on him as sat down.

"How are those ol' heffers doin'? Think they'll need to go to the slaughterhouse soon?"

Daylin shook his head and told him they had a couple years left before that, and shoveled a spoonful of leftover stew into his mouth. Within moments, the two were lost in talk about the condition the farm was in, when the sheep would need to be sheared, thoughts on getting a herding dog, and how long until the pigs would be big enough to cook up.

They talked for hours, and Daylin had to admit it felt good to take a break. It was over soon enough, though, because he had to leave to lock up the animals before the sundown and round up the eggs from the hen house. By the time he had finished both tasks and tucked the eggs safely away in their container, it was dark, and he retired to his bed. His thoughts were on the strangely feral woman and the orcs as the thick blanket of sleep washed over his mind and his eyes drifted shut.

Daylin flushed beneath his helmet and shrugged. "Ain't normally nothin' that needs to be said." His attention on Floressa, he didn't notice Tyrren until he began to speak. 'Not another one...' The giant had seen countless men fall for the half-elven woman, enchanted by her beauty and exotic ways, but it always ended the same. She wasn't meant to be a farmer's wife, she was made for royalty.

He clapped a big hand over Tyrren's shoulder, rattling his armor, and squeezed painfully tight. "Make sure she stays safe, she don't know just how cruel the world can be. Keep it that way." His voice was a low growl, and he had leaned down to whisper in the man's ear so only they could hear. He let the threat hang in the air for a moment, then turned and ruffled Floraessa's hair. "Be safe, Flora. Yer daddy'll tan my hide if anything happens to you."

With his duties as the big brother finished, he walked away from the pair and away from the glade. "Guide me to the orcs, Kaiyos. He felt goofy talking to the wind, but the goddess had said he would hear.