"Yarmdon… dogs…" he spat. It disgusted him. For them to be allowed so far into the land, and to be given titles that the most deserving of the Syndran warriors struggled to reach for, it was a travesty that he simply could not allow. It was not bravery, not heroism, but anger and hatred that spurred him past his pain, and made him reach to pick up his sword with his left hand.
A hate-filled thrust, by a man that was already straddling the border between life and death, and a Sea Serpent of certain skill was brought to the dirt. He was a Syndran man that had been with Vol for a few weeks now – Vol noted his loss in an instant, and tutted loudly. He quickly rushed back to behead the cripple before its spark could proceed any further, but by that point, it was already too late.