“Haha glad your awake pup, once again you caused quite the trouble while you were asleep.” laughed Rock while giving Mors a friendly pat on the shoulder. “The materials for your weapon were not the standard issue and ended up costing the Captain quite the small fortune.”

“If you ever need some money to help pay off the debt, you know where to find me.” said Jade as she gave him a suggestive wink in a joking manner.

-”There’s never a dull moment with people like him around. If he’s not causing mayhem, he’s spouting weird sayings and theories or throwing epic temper tantrums that would put a drunk sailor to shame.” [Claire]

Watching her mentors trying to bait Mors, Claire showed a warm smile as she rested her new soul weapon, Majestic Storm on her shoulder. She had always enjoyed Mors’ antics and bizarre behaviour, however, was forced to keep her distance due to peer pressure.

-”Never alienate yourself from the group, for when the devil comes knocking numbers mean everything.” [Claire's Mother]

Remembering the advice given to her by her late mother, Claire let out a silent sigh. Although she considered Mors a comrade, she had made the logical decision to avoid the risk of alienating herself with the other Pathfinders by trying to befriend him.

As she lazily looked over to check for any injuries caused by his earlier misadventure, her azure eyes abruptly widened and her pupils contracted into thin slits.

-“T..Tha..That can't be right, can it?” thought Claire as she tried to calm herself. -“My senses are telling me to get away from him as fast as possible. If I didn't know any better I would think he was an apex monster in disguise.”

Lamia were renowned for their ability to sense potential danger making them invaluable to parties and groups in hostile territory, dungeons or even as bodyguards. If they were approached by someone who was more powerful them and wouldn't blink at killing them, then their sense would activate which is what was currently happening.

Giving him a quick once over to make sure he wasn't an impostor, Claire's eyes finally stopped on his menacingly swaying tail. Black scales with extremely faint, fiery red trim and the sharp, jagged spikes running along the top and sides reflected the flickering flames of the forge majestically leading to the pitch black spear like tip that appeared to devour all light.

None of the Pathfinders had really seen Mors without his armour or heavy black cloak. The shock to her senses had caused Claire to reevaluate the young man standing in front of her causing her to take a sharp breath of air.

Standing tall at around 5ft 11 Mor’s pale skin and white shoulder length hair stood out in sharp contrast against his pitch black eyes and clothing causing him to seem almost like a ghostly prince returned from the grave.

Well defined muscles emanating explosive power could be seen through his short sleeve undershirt and although on the surface he looked to be completely at ease, his demeanour and stance clearly dictated otherwise giving the impression of a coiled snake waiting for an opportunity to strike.

His subconscious disposition was mainly due to the hellish training he had endured over the last two years. Sleeping, eating, bathing or even taking a shit were all prime ambush moments that Verz had capitalised on ruthlessly almost driving him to the state of paranoia.

Many, even leading Pathfinders considered her training too brutal and barbaric however Verz ignored them and continued relentlessly. Little did they know that since Mors had no one from his own species to teach him how to behave, she had taken it upon herself and although it seemed almost sadistic to others it would be considered a enjoyable upbringing to demons.

Demons had extremely powerful innate instincts that put the special skills and abilities of other races to shame however to awaken them, they had to experience extreme hardships and peril.

This was one of the reasons why so few demon younglings survived to their first evolution. Even though Mors didn't know it, it was these instincts that played a crucial role in his survival in the troll hive.

Claire was strangely drawn to Mors’ tail and continued to analyse it until a light flashed across her eyes the corner of her mouth rose almost unnoticeably.

-”If he is only a demon then I am a grass snake! That tail, without a doubt belongs to a reptilian and guessing by how dangerous it looks, it should be a high species like a basilisk or leviathan.”

“I can't wait to see her face when she finds out that Mors is one of our brethren, she is going to spit blood.” [Claire]

Casting a glance sideways, Claire could tell that Alice hadn't noticed anything different about Mors and remained ignorant by how she was looking at him.

-”All brawn and no brain, If the council knew she had been tormenting brethren to impress a beastkin, she would be in a world of hurt.” [Claire]

==== Third Person ====

The reptilian races of Acoria had been declining steadily since arriving on Nevesh after abandoning the old continent. Initially, they had been among the least affected races due to their natural constitutions which enabled their bodies to deal with the shortage of food and harsh travelling conditions however Nevesh turned out to be a much colder land with very few natural habitats that reptiles could comfortably live, causing the birth rates to plummet.

Another issue that was caused by the climate was that nearly all the surviving young tended to be female. The only way to ensure a male was born was to heat the egg with the rare and expensive sunstones to regulate the correct temperature and energy captured from the sun.

Declining population not being a big enough problem on its own, the anti-dragon/demon movement that had swept the content soon after their arrival had ‘cleansed’ all the powerful reptilians under the excuse that they had dragons blood. Due to these factors, many of the once powerful reptilian species were now on the brink of extinction.

To stem the tide and give their species a chance at survival in this new world, the reptilian clans were forced to merge into a single entity called the Council of the Sun. With its headquarters and every clan head located in Nevesh’s only dessert, the Shimmering Sands, they were charged with ensuring that all reptilians could live without fear and persecution as well as enforcing rules designed to halt their decline.

The council of the Sun only had three major tenants that all reptilian species had to abide by. The first was that, unless absolutely necessary and only as a final resort, were they to engage in any activity that would lead to the death of another reptilian.

The second was that if they encountered another reptilian in need they had to do everything in their power to help unless it put their own lives at risk.

The last rule was probably the most problematic for Mors and yet another reason why Verz had kept his lineage a secret. Reptilian males, especially ones with powerful bloodlines were forbidden from having monogamous relationships and were for all intensive purposes at the beck and call of any female of age.

The rules were enforced by the Councils honour guard with any breaches would be severely dealt with often resulting in imprisonment at the capital.

Even though Mors was a demon, the fact that he had dragon’s blood flowing through his veins meant he had one of the most powerful bloodlines available to reptiles and was further compounded by the fact that dragons were not affected by the cold.

This meant that even though they were hunted by most races, dragons were seen as the ultimate ‘solution’ to the reptilian species problem. If they could conquer the cold then they would be able to spread across the continent and reclaim their rightful place at the top.

“Enough of this… Bruce your weapon should be about ready.” Verz interjected, pulling the attention away from Mors.

As the group focused on the forge in front of them, an ice mage standing towards the edge while looking like he was about to expire due to the heat pushes his open palm out touching the black mould as it rolled out of the furnace.

White lines appeared above the back of the mage's hand forming an elegant, although complicated, circle causing the entire room to noticeably cool.

“Astorneth needs to be rapidly cooled in order for it to be strong.” whispered Claire as she as she subtlety walked towards Mors.

Nearly certain that he had reptilian blood, she now had a good excuse to approach him without irritating the others too much.

Bruce steps up to the mould before reaching in and pulling out a long sword and an imposing looking tower shield. He swings the sword in a downwards arch causing the air to slightly hiss in its wake.

The silver tower shield was covered in glistening blue defensive runes in the shape of a tree which were designed to reflect any impact made against it back towards the attacker.

“Looks like we have our tank.” said Jade proudly as she stuck out her chest

Jim the pathfinder places a single gold coin into Rocks hand while muttering “I still say a mace would have suited him better.”

As Bruce repeatedly swings his sword in the air and shifting his balance to accommodate the heavy shield the master blacksmith steps forward while quickly making notes and asking Bruce to give them a name.

“While striking down my enemies I shall protect my allies, I shall call it Fury’s Mercy.” proclaimed Bruce after thinking for a short while.

Mors almost bursts out laughing at the the statement but managed to keep it to a loud snort causing Bruce to turn red with anger.

”Let's see if you do any better demon,” uttered Alice as she quickly came to Bruce's defence.

Ignoring them, Mors watched as a new square of black material with a small circle is heaved onto the forge by ten stocky smiths while the materials mentioned previously by Rock are placed inside of it.

The shape of the mould caused Mors to slightly panic. -“I don't want a football as a weapon! What will I do, kick it and hope they are a dog beastkin?”

“As they don't know the shape of your weapon the mould move to accommodate it while it's being created.” spoke Claire she noticed Mors frowning.

-”Doesn't say two words the entire time I know her and now she can't shut up… I guess at least I am getting answers… and my weapon isn't a football.” [Mors]

It didn't take long for the forge to regain its original temperature. Due to having two cores and almost double the amount of Astorneth, the bellow on the other side is now being manned by another two dwarfs causing the heat waves to become almost unbearable for everyone but the twins and Mors.

After about 30 minutes Clare had given up trying to start a conversation and had wandered back towards the other adepts getting used to their new weapons.

”Something isn't right.” muttered Mors as he kept thinking about the strange behaviour of Verz and Claire.

“Your weapons almost ready lad, stop looking so depressed and lighten up.” scorned the master smith as he nodded towards the ice mage.