Dunimir perceived the white shore whilst there was still many long hours before he would reach them. High above the land were the tell-tale clouds, rolling up over themselves as the warmer and more humid inland airs were buffeted by the cooler coastal climes. His battered craft, repaired whilst at sea too many times now, moved sluggishly through the waters, rolling clumsily at the upset of the least of waves.

Approaching the shore, and the messy waves breaking, Dunimir knew he would have to abandon all his possessions to the tide, the craft would never remain upright long enough to reach the thin strip of white beach. The harsh laughter of the gulls overhead grated at his nerves.

But Dunimir leaped into the sea, his twin axes strapped to his back and chest. So it was he emerged, far from home, upon the white coast. Half-frozen, and with the bitter taste of salt in his mouth, and the chill wind prickling into his drenched clothes. But he keep his eyes in front of him, , for he was not alone, and it seemed there was a dubious welcome waiting for him.

Godfrey scowled as he felt the sand from the beach dig into his feet and toes. He had just finished killing a Paladin, a former comrade of his, and he was wiped out. Paladins were tough, and the young warrior was definitely not an exception. When the warrior noticed the man wading around in the water, he quickly drew his chain whip and uncoiled it. The sand was starting to bother him, but he ignored the pain. He may have been exhausted, but he was still ready for a fight.

He smacked his chain whip through the air, then walked closer to the stranger. "I see you are armed! Fight me, stranger!" He yelled. He grinned a little, then swung the whip around his head and cracked it inches from the stranger's face. Wind picked up, and the tide started coming in closer. Salt water washed into Godfrey's boots, and stung the cuts made by the sand. He seethed, then popped his neck and ignored the pain once more. He had failed to notice a large cut on his back from the blade of his enemy. Had he, he probably would not have picked a fight with the other warrior.

Godfrey let out a roar of defiance, and grinned. Pointless slaughter was a sure way of upsetting the Goddess of Life. If he could destroy as many lives as possible, and ruin twice that, he knew that the Vala would take notice, and realize that her former puppet still lived.

Dunimir eyed the behemoth, seeing he was still red-eyed with battle fury. He had sustained a serious wound along his back, and from the hesitant shifting of his feet, was in pain there too.

"Hail. I am Dunimir Eldior. If you wish to fight, brother, I will. But let it be only a friendly match, for you have already fought well, and hard, I deem. It would not be a true match, for i am still fresh, if a little drenched."

Dunimir took his axes, not unfamiliar with combating whip-wielders, but wary that in the hands of a master, they were like swords whose blades could be lashed faster than human-reaction could ever hope to match.

As Dunimir spoke, Godfrey began focusing on any weak points he could possibly find, and decided he would just have to strike at joints and his throat and chest. He wished he could have had a lightning spell, or a way of sending electricity into the water to end the battle quickly since he was tired and weakened. The former Paladin grunted, then popped his neck and gripped his chain whip a little tighter, then began swinging it around over his head before cracking it again and letting it slink to the ground.

"Hail. I am Dunimir Eldior. If you wish to fight, brother, I will. But let it be only a friendly match, for you have already fought well, and hard, I deem. It would not be a true match, for i am still fresh, if a little drenched."

The pale warrior snarled at the man's request to battle on friendly terms, and defiantly cracked the whip mere inches from his face. The tide came again, causing the stinging sensation to return. He ignored it, but began to realize a searing pain in his back. He quickly turned his head to see what it was, then grimaced and uttered the incantation to try to heal it up. It partially worked, but due to the size of the gash, it didn't seal completely, and blood still ran down his back.

"Do you know who I am, sailor?" He questioned. "A friendly match is worth as much as the words of the Gods... There is no sport. I am Godfrey! I fight, only to the death! Urragh!" He yelled as he charged forward swinging his whip over his head. He cracked it again, then quickly coiled it back up, put it away, and yanked his gigantic spear from the harness on his back before leaping into the air. He thrust the spear towards Dunimir, and let out another yell.

Rafi hid in some tall grass that had sprung up from the sand more inland. He watched as a man washed up. The water was freezing so he knew he was colder then ever. Another man came into view. He had a whip and was swinging it everywhere. Probably trying to intimidate his enemy. It was working. Rafi was very young. And he was some what frightened by the man who was cracking his whip everywhere. He felt sorry for the washed up man.

"Hail. I am Dunimir Eldior. If you wish to fight, brother, I will. But let it be only a friendly match, for you have already fought well, and hard, I deem. It would not be a true match, for i am still fresh, if a little drenched." The smaller man said.

By what rafi heard he could tell this guy wasn’t evil. The massive man then spoke:

"Do you know who I am, sailor?" He questioned. "A friendly match is worth as much as the words of the Gods... There is no sport. I am Godfrey! I fight, only to the death! Urragh!". By that Rafi could tell he was the enemy. He drew an arrow silently and prepared to fire a shot when the sailor would need it.

Dunimir felt the peace of battle fall upon him, the ancient mastery of his kindred. For in the heat of battle, they were possessed of a blithe calm. He could see and hear everyhting, and yet also in a way, could feel and think nothing. He was the battle, and his body, through long training, knew how to react.

The gargantuan warrior made an early mistake, leaping into the air, and thrusting the spear down with all his weight behind it. Dunimir simply stepped a half step to the side, and grabbed the spear above the spearhead, and wrenched it with a great flick, intended to send the man falling heavily onto his side.

Godfrey anticipated the counterattack, and quickly reacted. He shifted his weight to his feet, and landed hard in the water, making it splash up into the air. The salt water felt like someone had dipped the pale warrior's feet in acid, and he let out a grunt. He quickly kicked his foot up, sending sea water flying towards his enemy's eyes. If he was lucky, the salt would burn him, and he'd be distracted long enough for Godfrey to slit him open and do some real damage. He roared and yanked his spear out of his enemy's hands, and quickly glanced to a newcomer, with a bow, aiming directly for him. He snarled, then quickly withdrew his spear and drew his longsword. He struck at Dunimir's side, then spun around, and slashed at his stomach.

All the while he kept himself slightly focused on the archer. A coward. He could sense the boy's fear, and he knew he would try to take out the god-hating warrior with a well aimed shot. Godfrey only laughed at the thought of the young one seeking to slay him. He had brought down trolls. Demons. Paladins of every shape, build, and strength. He had even taken on a transformed half dragon and lived to tell the tale. His brutal nature and thirst for blood and revenge kept driving him, and he knew a young boy with a short bow was no match for focused, acrobatic swordsman. Especially if he got up close.

Though he took a risk by turning his back to his current opponent, and by taking on two at a time, but he figured he might as well close the gap between him and the archer, for he knew that a young bowman without distance was no match for a skilled, up close and personal mêlée opponent.

Rafi was screaming at himself in his mind. He felt stupid for going up against this huge man. He was olny a young man. He mad a mind note to stay on the edge of arrow distance from the huge man. He shot an arrow at the huge man,rolled to another location and shot another quickly. he hoped this would give his temp. allie some time to take the huge man down.

"I do not want to die here" Rafi thought to himself over and over again. He then collected himself and prepares another shot at the enemy. He would try to keep his cool for as long as he could. He didnt want to get in a melle fight with this guy. THat spelled his death ten times over.

Dunimir watched the warrior flex with the litheness of an acrobat, landing with suitable stability on his feet. There was a moments hesitation as the salt-water no doubt burned his wounds, before he attempted to kick salt-water into Dunimirs' eyes, and swing at him hastily with a well-used looking sword.

Dunimir no longer needed his eyes to match this foe, who had become angry, and hasty, and whose attention was now divided, albeit by a novice archer. The water splashed across his face, and Dunimirs' axe collected the blade.

In reply, Dunimir twisted the axe-haft mightily, so that the axes beard bit into the sword-blade, and he wrenched it with all the strength in his sea-hardened body, with the intent of tearing his opponents weapon from his grasp. The warrior had already turned his face to watch the archer, and was turning his back to Dunimir, forgetting the second axe in his haste, which was already descending like the cutting edge of a lightening-bolt, toward the tendon behind the warriors' knee.

Godfrey only laughed at the man's pathetic attempt to wield both axes. He easily wrested his sword away from Dunimir, then avoided his attack and jumped away, missing both arrows. Godfrey snarled, then twirled his sword and ran like a bat out of hell towards the archer. He yelled fiercely, then sheathed his sword and drew his favorite weapon of all, the dreaded chain blade. It acted as a whip, but could be used as though it were an extremely long sword, a grappling hook, or even as a kunai. He jumped into the air and flung the dagger towards the boy. The first time it missed, and dug into the ground, but as Godfrey landed he yanked on the chain, and grabbed the dagger's hilt.

He landed with a thud, then stood, battle ready, staring down the boy. He looked to the man, then snarled as he felt a horrid pain in his back. He kneeled down, then shook his head and snarled again. The cut had opened up again, this time much wider. At this point, Godfrey seemed more beast than man, baring his teeth, grunting, and using all four limbs to keep himself up. He was losing a lot of blood, and he was now in dire pain. He quickly forced himself up, then looked to Dunimir and Rafi again. He grimaced, then pointed his dagger at one, then the other.

"Soon... ugh... I will find you both... and once I do... You will wish you had never been born!" He threatened in a harsh, angered, yet weakened tone. At that, he growled, then withdrew his weapon and made a dead run to the West. He failed to notice his longsword had somehow freed itself from its sheath, and accidentally left it behind. Not that he cared, he already had another blade, plus, he was losing blood, and he needed to find a way to fix up his wound. He made sure he was out of the duo's line of site, then slowed down to a near limp.