Solo Testing, One, Two, Three.

[Morvale Barrows]

When his knife throw had connected he was driven by shear determination and confidence that his surprise ambush would go just as smoothly. His mind was adrift with hatred as adrenaline poured through the core of his being. He felt incredible, unstoppable until what came next.

His technique that he thought would grant him sure fire success end once again in tragic calamity. He was starting to see a dreary pattern, like he was banging his head against the wall expecting something to change. But was it Uldrs gift that failed him? Or his lack of experience against this master or a combination of both. His hands opened and robbed him of what should have been a spectacular counter attack, he grimaced as surgically sharp steel sailed just below his palm.

He knew to well what would happen next, it was over before it even began.

He felt those gargantuan hands grip him and rip him off balance, his movements even without flux were beyond his. As he attempted to try and rebalance and flail the knife around him it was too late the serpentine horror slithered to his left and flanked him. Caught with his back to his adversary the grim reality once again reared its head as he felt the mans monstrous arm coil around his neck. Just close enough for him to say the petch he can't.

His legs were suddenly swept away from the ground as he landed into the dirt and rocks hard. The momentum and weight of his body crashed into him, dazing a hapless morvale. He could only imagine how pathetic it must have looked as Gresshal had already recovered and was upon him. The dagger hadnt left his hand, but it was just to late as a collosal fist smashed into his ribs and torqued its way through bones like a battering ram crashing through a castles gate. Once again blood burst from his throat and shot out in a spattering geyser, the shear jolt of excruciating pain caused his hand to involuntarily relinquish his weapon as his hand spasmed against his will causing it to fumble to the dirt. But it wasn't over yet, as if it wasn't bad enough his lung had been speared by fragments of his bone. He was all to familiar with the weightless of being propelled and all to familiar with the feeling of his throat being clamped between a bicep.

He collided into the dirt, a broken disheveled heap of tenderized meat.

Again he lay defeated, his back turned his right hand reaching out too greshal. His mind a flutter with one compelling thought, ill kill you, ill kill you, ill kill you as Gresshals form became smaller and smaller until his form was lost in the scenery. It was over again, he wasn't strong enough. But his mind was ablaze in furious hatred, it was fermenting with every moment of agony he'd endured.

Something came again, the voice like a whisper.
It told him to become his initiate, the thought drove him wild. Was Uldr petching mad? He was supposed to hav given him the power to defeat this guy, but instead he was to be his pet. His eyes swelled with misery and despair, as he felt a lethargic crackling and snapping within him. The injuries he sustained were fading, he smiled as he stared at the sky. He savored this moment, allowed himself an oppurtunity to indulge in the fantasy of tearing him to pieces. His breathing was heavy as he felt the sensation simmer to a scolding hot boil.

He heaved himself off the ground as his body mended the damage, he continued towards the tree line once again.

The very thought illicited the worst in him