The pair were a painting against the landscape. The tall, horned statue of muscle, and the smaller, elegant warrior who waited. The audience watched with baited breath to see how it was the two men that claimed the greatest titles in their clans would fight. Neither of them moved for Boranran had yet to go feral and Ares did not wish to move until he had done so, he wanted to face the buffalo at his zenith to see just how big the different between the pair was. In an instant that had changed, as Boranran had shifted into his feral form, his horns had grown slightly longer, and his hooves were out for blood. Ares had managed to duck in time, bringing out his forearm ahead of his face to catch the hoof, which imprinted upon his skin like a tattoo. The searing pain flooding through his arm as Ares looked up to the stoic face of Boranran, which had grown red from the feral form. Ares’ arm shook for just a moment, as though his bone threatened to give in, but it was not allowed to. Ares willed his bone fine before he reached up to grab the hoof. He moved slow and deliberate as Boranran waited to see what the young man would do. Ares clutched at the hoof and then in the next moment flung the warrior across the ground, though Boranran had managed to catch himself on his other hoof which dug into the ground true like a spear and then he was gone, upon Ares once more. The pain filled his mind like a whirlpool, and yet Ares had felt this before. He winced as he grabbed the pair of horns which had dug into his front, blood spurting outward to pain the buffaloman’s face red. Ares’ arms flexed as he then pulled the horns out of his front where his dark wound pulsed and grew hot, yet he urged it down. ‘Not now! Not now, damn it!’ Then he forced Boranran out of him and inhaled deeply. Boranran pushed forward with his hooves in the ground, yet all they moved was the earth underneath him. Ares did not move, for though his physique was no mountain, he was as still and as serene as one on a brisk spring morning. Boranran continued to push forth, and yet with each passing moment he grew weaker and weaker. It had been a long while since he had gone feral and finally his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees under Ares, who let go of his horns. Boranran gasped and coughed for air as he fell onto his hands, trying to keep himself up. Ares stared down at the man who had only just gouged him. Ares had wanted to show off his agility, his grace, and his great strength, but instead he showed off the one thing Rivea needed, great fortitude. Ares was strong, yes, and he had clearly shown that, but he had shown that he could endure the pain. Even now his blood flowed out of him onto the ground, and yet he did not heal himself. He probably could have shown such great fortitude if he had kept the horns inside of him, but the dark wound that still plagued him would have caused him to falter quicker, and he would not shame Orndu and Zika who had come before him, especially the oxman who had remained standing in his feral form for so long to prove the point before even Ares. “I surrender,” Boranran panted aloud as he looked up to Ares. There was a look within Boranran’s eyes that were filled with shame, as though he had given in too early. Ares nodded his head and then walked back to his people. “It was a good fight,” Ares said as he shifted his hands into flames and then seared the two holes shut before he allowed the warmth of the healing flames to accompany him. The last time he had some horns in him it was during the battle against Ittalharn, where the buffalofolk surrounded him and gouged him. Ares looked to Zika and smiled at her, she replied with a knowing bow of her slender head. “With us as victors, we claim a weapon a piece, was that right?” Ares asked as he pointed to Orazuta. “I shall claim a weapon of yours, so that one day you may use it when fighting by my side or against me.” Orazuta roared with laughter. “There is no need to take it from me then, for I will join your side now,” he said. The others gasped at the news, though Ares raised his brow. “You will join my side now?” “You have shown me great strength, and if what you say it true, then I wish to join you to see how far I can go.” Ares threw a look to Boranran who had stood up and no longer was wheezing quite so harshly. “What say you?” Ares asked. “Is that fine with you?” “It is hard enough to control my brother when he wishes for fun, harder enough to control him when he has set his mind for it,” Boranran had walked up to Orazuta and grabbed onto his forearm. “May the plains take you forward,” he said. “May they greet you when I am gone,” Orazuta replied. He then turned to Ares before his gaze fell to Orndu, a wild grin on his face. “Then? You will accept me?” Ares turned to look at Torak, whose face was already resigned to the fact that Ares was probably going to welcome the larger fellow in. Ares reached out to shake the buffaloman’s forearm, which he could barely grasp in his much smaller hand. He could see now within the eyes of Orazuta whether or not he should misbehave, but he remained in good standing for the moment. “Welcome aboard, Orazuta,” Ares said with a large wry grin on his face. “Welcome to the Elegant Eight.” Torak almost choked as he took a long sip of his waterskin, hiding the wince on his face. Even Zika looked to Ares with a queer look in her eye as though she had misheard Ares words. Were they even too cringe for Ares? Perhaps so, but it was Ares who decided the name of the group. “I am honoured to join you,” Orazuta said. “You may call me Uta, for I am one of your fold?” “We’ll see if you are a Rivean, but for now you have joined the Elegant Eight. We are named so because of our ability to elegantly do as we please.” “Why was our name the Statue Seven then?” Torak asked. “We would have looked cool as statues,” Ares said without much thought to it, for actually he had no idea why he called the group the Statue Seven beyond it was the second name that came to him after Super Seven. “Would we not look good as statues now?” Beor asked as he tore into some meat with his teeth. Ares looked to the large imposing form of Orazuta and then back to Beor. “No, Uta is far too big for such a thing. It would be a waste of materials.” Orazuta grinned wide in the savage way he often did before Ares turned to look to Boranran and caught his gaze. “So, will you join Rivea? The trial remains at three months for now, but it shall increase once we go out to bring others into our fold with our military.” Boranran nodded his head. “If it is as you say, then we will join. Is Peros within Rivea?” Ares shook his head. “Rivee’s presence is about, but Peros had left a long time ago. The Storm Lord left recently, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to meet him either.” “You had met with the Storm Lord as well?” Boranran asked. Ares nodded. “A short time ago, yes. Zika can attest to that, she was there when we met. He had tried to attack my sister, but I blocked his lightning with my body. It was quite the painful affair,” Ares admitted as he recalled the sizzling. He winced at the thought of it. Uta looked to Boranran and then back to Ares. “Will we be able to meet with this Storm Lord?” Ares shrugged. “Perhaps one day, but I can’t say for sure. He seemed like he’d be gone for some time if I recall correctly.” Ares looked up at the buffaloman. “I see…” “Well then, I suppose we’ll make a little camp nearby. I want to go and explore for a bit.” Boranran left Ares in peace, with Uta joining the group as they left. Ares made sure to thank them for the food before they did so, he couldn’t be so rude and not thank them for the food and the fight. Ares could see the solemn mood within the people as he left, they seemed like a beaten tribe.