• Outside his window, Akkarin saw the crystalline blue sky, the cotton candy puffy white clouds, the seemingly endless sea of deciduous trees, and the brilliant golden-yellow orb floating just above the wooded mountain tops in the distance. He saw the restrained beauty before him, yet he did not see it. His gaze was not focused on anything in particular. He was half paying listening to a report from some messenger he did not know the name of.

    "My lord? My lord did you hear me?" the messenger's voice was small, almost inaudible. He seemed more than just a little scared at the thought of pulling Akkarin out of his distant land. "My lord." he started sounding a tad more urgent.

    Akkarin's hazel-gold eyes slowly slid across the stone-wood walls to the messenger's gray-jade ones. They seemed to be tearing up. He obviously missed something important. "Hmm?" Akkarin said as he placed a naturally tanned elbow on the armrest of his dark emerald green plush chair and set his slightly pointed chin in the cup of his hand.

    "My lord! Kraal was attacked!" the messenger's voice was slightly raised in alarm and perhaps controlled anger. "Master Savior is..." his voice weakened quickly as he could not bring himself to say it. Something had happened in Kuibyshev's sister city, Kraal. "The humans..." Tears now began falling down the messenger's dark cheeks, almost running into his chin-length dark auburn hair. "They," he paused, "slaughtered..." he swiped away a couple tears. "There were no survivors." the five foot nine inch male said solemnly after a long pause in which he seemed to regain his composure.

    Akkarin's hand fell away from his chin. "Repeat that," he demanded. He still had only been half-way paying attention, until that moment. No survivors was not good news, and usually the bearer of bad news did not get to leave Akkarin's throne room in one piece; and this messenger knew this.

    Kuibyshev's messenger swallowed hard. He obviously didn't want to repeat the dreadful news. In silence, he bowed his head and timidly took several steps back, then knelt down to where his shiny reddish-brownish-bluish hair fell into his face. It appeared to be his more than useless attempt to spare his life and limbs, but it only added to the bronze lord's anger.

    Akkarin, from his green plush chair, seemed to stand up cautiously but he only moved slowly to keep from lunging at the messenger's throat and ripping it out. "Repeat your message." he demanded again, causing the currently bowed man to flinch and whimper. "Report!" he yelled into the now evacuated room.

    The messenger almost fell back as Akkarin's rage flew at him like a hurricane. "P-please, my lord!" he pleaded as he threw his body to the ground as if in prayer to a foreign god. "Please be rational, Sire!" the auburn haired messenger begged at Akkarin's feet.

    The bronze skinned lord's eyes seemed to flash red for a split second, but in another they were back to his normal hazel-gold. Silently, Akkarin turned his back to the messenger and sat with a plop onto the dark green softness of his throne. He let out an aggravated sigh and placed two fingers on his right temple. "You have two hours to pull yourself together, then come back and repeat your message to me."

    "But Sire!" the messenger continued to plead. This news seemed to be just as unsettling to him as it was to Akkarin.

    "Just go before I rip your throat out." The sound of rage was trapped within his words.

    The Kuibyshev's messenger trembled again and did as his master bid. He stood carefully, keeping his head bowed, and backed away towards the large French doors that marked the entrance to the throne room. The solid red oak doors closed behind him with a loud resonating bang.

    [[I'll continue this at a later date....^-^;]]