Khal sat up.
The world was at turmoil. He knew it.
His own actions puzzeled him. Why were he doing this?
He were banished from heaven, and yet he struggeled to protect this world?
He knew he were wounded. Mortals had taken care of him it seemed.
Where was The Blazer? Probably destroyed.
Khal sighed. He had sacrifised his greatest weapon, and probably one of the greatest weapons on earth, to give the humans victory. Why did he do this?
He begun healing his wounds. Slowly, since his magicks were drained.
He realized, that no matter what he tried to convince himself of, he was The Seraph. The angelic general, the protecter. The one that had failed his duty by slaying the ones he were sworn to protect...
He noticed that his wings were unfolded, and not disguised as a cloak. The mortals must know by now that he is a angel then.
With The Blazer gone, Khal tried to remember how he had created the weapon.
The blade he had created with his own magicks, and the fury of his flaming soul. His firesoul. The power... well, it had come from the damned souls of his enemies.
What a great loss The Blazer was, and realizing that he would never again weild the sword, Khal found himself, with a warmace in his right hand. "Punishment." He muttered. That was a good name for a mace.
Khal lied down.
OOC: This post is my way of announcing that i am back. Now go ahead and respond so i can get back into rping!