"What are risks except mental cultivators of courage, and strength?"
~Tasmiya Shaik
NORTH-EASTERN REGIONS OF ARANDUIL
DRUIZDÁR MOUNTAIN FORESTS
Sunday
11:23 a.m
Bloody, and beaten. A hard first connected with the Aldari Lord's jaw. An instant, nerve-wrecking pain assailed his his jawbone, as if his skull were split open with sheer force. This was the strength of an Asharren warrior. The enforced power of an Aldarian warrior. He forcefully motioned the dislocated jaw with his hand back within its correct anatomical structure, and alignment.
"Amico," Andreas grimaced at the sound of creaking bone. "That one looked like it definitely hurt," He clenched his fist, and opened it to ease the pain he received from his friend's solid jaw. Why did he punch so hard in the first place? Nevertheless, he did not regret it.
