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(( Wow, that's a tough back. )) Slowly, again, the scythe begins draining blood and power from the wound. As for all the pointy sharp things coming at him, they make a pin cusion out of him. however, not only does he seem unhurt, he doesn't even look like he's bleeding. Every second about ten drops of blood are absorbed into the scythe. The power needed to make one pea size orb of energy comparatively, so not much.

Focht gets up, still holding the rose, and steps outside to watch the fight, ready to do as he said and step in to stop T if Clyde was about to be killed..... if it is at all possible for a reaper to be killed.

~Truinthil hits the ground and skids a bit. his wrist blades hit the ground and bounced a few times. he stood up straight and winced at the rather large gash in his back. he didnt mind it much though as he pulled his wristblades to himself as his sword disappeared. he caught the wristblades and put them at his back before grinning mischieviously and picking up a rock, which he then threw through one of the dojo windows, just to prove that he had effectively removed the spell that old D had used to protect the dojo. over all he seemed to be hardly winded. he noted that he had lost a little bit of energy, but it didnt matter to him. he still had vast reserves waiting to be opened. he spread his wings then and jumped into the air, flying away from the guild~

He woke from bed, still very sore from his fight last night. His once angelic white hair was a mess, now brown from mud and his face caked with dirt. His eyelids remained closed as he thought about what Shadow may have done to 9-Lives and he felt horrible for not being stronger.

He cursed himself under his breath and opened his eyes, revealing sun yellow/steel gray eyes beneath his eyelids. His left forearm and right leg were left with scars from the arrows and spikes that he encountered last night by the orcs and some guy with this undying need for 9.

He sighed heavily in bed and climbed out of it with his painfully sore body, and left his warbrand vibro-blade leaning against his nightstand. His pants were shredded near his legs from running after the orcs and for having the spike run through it. He tried to stretch, but the attempt failed as he realized he could barely feel any part of his body now because of the soreness, and how relaxed his body once was before he disturbed it. He looked out the window, seeing a very gray overcast above and sighs.

No blue sky today I guess... He thought to himself as he turned back around and walked to his bathroom, and spent an hour cleaning himself up and took a nice relaxing shower to relieve the soreness and dirt.

After he finished, he walked back into his room in a towel, and looked at his worn out, dirty, torn up pants and sighed again, putting them on and walking out of his room, feeling relief from the pain he had just hours earlier. He walked down the hall, passing everyone else's rooms, even 9's. He walked down the flight of stairs to get to the dojo mainroom and straight to the kitchen.

"I'm going to make breakfast..." He muttered to himself, still wishing he had his air essence to keep his strength up.

He's never been good at judging what anyone wanted for breakfast so took a guess. He walked into the kitchen, and straight to the fridge, and pulled out a large jug of orange juice. He filled seven glasses for everyone, not even knowing how many people will show up, but shrugged at the thought. He put the jug back and pulled out a package of sausage links, bacon strips, eggs, mild red & green peppers, and pepper.

He cooked the eggs first, shifting it with a spatula, and taking the moment to dice up the sausage and adding that to the meal. He cooked the bacon strips seperately, loving being abberdexterous, and cooking the bacon to a fine crisp.

Next, he too the peppers and diced them up after setting the bacon pan on a inactive stove fryer, and placed the peppers with the eggs and sausage in a mix, and adding a light amount of pepper. He added a small portion of a dragon fin, making a duplication spell upon the meal so that it would increase and make another plate full everytime someone felt hungry. He kept at least six plates out on the bar counter, and seven on the table for the more active members to use. He sat at the head of the table, in a traditional japanese form of sitting on a pillow ontop of his legs. He drank a little of his orange juice and waited for everyone.

"Good morning 9, want some breakfast?" He asked welcomingly and gestured to the chair next to him with a plate of spicy omelot and bacon with a side of orange juice.

He nods to her on the compliement and took a strip of bacon and devoured it in a second flat, and asked. "So 9, how ya feeling this morning?"