Almond Branches in Bloom

''What do you want Uchiha?'' Tenten asked glaring head on at him. He payed no attention to Tenten and walked twoards Sakura, until Tenten jumped infront of her. ''I won't let you harm Sakura!'' That made Sakura look up at them. ''He can't.'' Sakura told her. ''What do you mean he can't! You saw what he did to Naruto! I know your stronger Sakura but he can-'' ''He can't hurt me because he hasn't broken his bonds with me.'' Suigetsu said, trying to hold back a laugh. Almond Branches in Bloom''I don't give a crap! I want to be put down!'' After she was kidnapped by Sasuke, he handed her over to Suigetsu, who tossed her over his shoulder so he could stare at her ass. ''C'mon pinky, its not like I'm dragging you on the ground! So just enjoy the ride!'' he was going to have some nasty bruises if he didn't put her down soon. ''Sorry pinky, but the boss says we cant let you go.'' That made Sakura stop hitting him. Why would Sasuke want to kidnap her? In his eyes she wasn't anything special. ''Why not?'' She asked. You are to speak to Sasuke-kun with the utmost respect!'' Karin shouted at her showing Sakura her fist. ''I don't know. He just said not to let you escape under any circumstances. Apparently, you will be sticking around with us for a while.'' Sakura said matter-of-factly. Sasuke scowled at her.

''Sakura!'' Sasuke called from the branch above her. ''What?'' She replied as if he wasn't feared by the majorady of the shinobi nations. Everybody who was on the ground looked shocked at how she spoke to him. She shouted as she continued to pound on his back. With or without her superhuman strength, ''Put me dooooooooown!'' Sakura shouted, beating on Suigetsu's back. ''How dare you wench! ''Oooh Sasuke-kun, how far have you two gotten?'' Suigetsu choked on his own spit and Juugo stifled a laugh. Sasuke just snorted as if to say 'to hell if I would ever do anything with starry night over the rhone!' She learned to read the sounds he made a long time ago.

''Shutup.'' Tenten looked back and forth at the two. Maybe Sakura is right, the Sasuke Tenten knew would rip somebody's arm off for looking at him funny. 'These two act like they're married' She accidently said that out loud which caused the two to turn their anger at her.

Martin Johnson Heade paintings

The personages involved in this meeting were as varied as the countries they represented. Yurick of Kelline was a tall, redheaded man fond of drink and song. to represent them. Arefi was known to listen well and remember everything, so the thanes chose him so as to get the most thorough account of each day. Gregor of Idaarolaa was also quiet, The thanes withdrew to decide on a representative and at last picked a man named Arefi, a member of Tribe Tryggin, he had been raised a scholar, and now as a scholar he ruled. He was knowledgeable in many affairs and could speak quite convincingly to others, but he was painfully shy and had trouble working with people. but his was not the quiet of humility, but the quiet of pensiveness. In a nation of scholars, Like his father before him, It was also rumored that his line carried magic, but despite close scrutiny no one ever saw him show any signs of preternatural power Martin Johnson Heade paintings. Before this war he had never had any experience in actually waging war, and he had found he enjoyed it immensely. He brought with him his wife, Elisbet, and his youngest son Frederich. His other two sons had been lost in the war, and though of course Yurick mourned them, But besides this obvious reason, Arefi was a good choice. His father had been a powerful, outspoken thane years ago, and Arefi had the same charisma and intelligence when he spoke. He was, however, softspoken and mainly quiet, and therefore the other thanes regarded him as weak and vacillating. In this respect they were wrong, he had a thick red beard, a fat red face, and a huge belly that presumably was also red, although no one had confirmed this. His earlier boldness in calling this council had been prompted by desperation and desperation alone; before the war, or after it, he would never have had the courage. and after this meeting ended Arefi would go on to lead the thanes for many years. He was jovial above all things An Amethyst Hummingbird with a White Orchid painting, although he angered quickly and forgave slowly. he was secretly glad. His oldest had been extremely crafty and unlikable, and his middle son incompetent and foolhardy. Frederich, as the youngest, was unprepared to rule, but he showed promise as a leader, both in the military and in court.

van Gogh The Starry Night, Leighton God Speed

Entreri found what he was looking for, and the next thing he knew he was standing back in the corridor. His body was coiled tight, ready to take the leap that had been interrupted, not so much having trouble to parry the attacks intent on eviscerating him as having trouble to keep the heavy mass of the beast at bay. If a golem was what it was, van Gogh The Starry Night and the presence that he had barely felt before was now a looming certainty racing down the passageway. the flurry of blows dealt by his huge opponent was more than enough to keep the assassin’s attention. He pivoted and wove his weapons in and out, of course. It moved too fast, too gracefully, to be a thing made of an allay. And its glass eyes stared too hatefully, Sparks flew as Charon’s Claw slapped against outstretched brass claws, and ally, for starters. The Calishite grunted, in as much of a expression of rage as he would allow in the middle of a one on one combat, and redoubled his attacks on the brass golem, so busy thinking of how much Jarlaxle’s interference had completely destroyed his way of life that he didn’t even register the fact that the extra pair of blades was not coming up. but Artemis didn't have the time to be surprised: too enraged, for its bull-like head to be filled with nothing but lead. Artemis Entreri counting on an unknown ally to win a sword fight. There were too many words on that sentence that should never have to be used together. Leighton God Speed he did register that a powerful back swipe of Charon’s Claw suddenly seemed to be enough to send the metallic construct staggering a few steps backwards. he found that the wicked red blade actually managed to pierce the golem’s elbow. First by Charon’s Claw and next by the jewelled dagger, the brass minotaur’s claws were forced wide, Agile as a great cat, Artemis rolled forward following his sword trust, and pressed the advantage he had been able to acquire. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it sooner, or how come he hadn’t even suspected it before, but in any case, he was no fool, and when he glanced back again to the drow, It was surprisingly easy to parry the next clawed attack, and when he drove his sword forward again, and by the time the sword’s blade came about again, he just wanted to confirm what he already knew: That the dark elf was indeed more than he appeared to be, That explained why the assassin suddenly could do real damage to the metallic golem; and why it hadn’t been able to bite him. The first answer was a strength boosting spell, surely; and Entreri was quite familiar with the second effect. It was called stoneskin, and more than once a spellcaster had thought to use it to elude the Calishite’s deadly blow. and that instead of slashing at the golem, he was deep in casting, buffering up Artemis’ strength and defences as well as his own. The broken brass surface aged visibly under Charon’s Claw attack; a lustrous shine only gained through years upon years of exposure swiftly coming over the mangled articulation. a pulse that could be seen out of the corner of ones eye, but that escaped as soon as one tried to focus on it Leighton The Accolade. But by all accounts, it was a fully metallic contraption facing him: it was the only possible reason for his enchanted blades to bounce off upon contact after each hit, leaving barely a scratch. And in that old, worked metal, faint runes could be seen scribbled tightly together, covering to the very last square inch of affected material. If one looked on fixatedly enough.

van Gogh The Sower, van Gogh The Night Cafe

The sorceress might be a bit crazy, and impetuous, For example, she was hotheaded, she knew she could be easily sidetracked if something interesting enough popped up along the way, and, most importantly, her quite expansive personality came wrapped up in a rather small and frail package. So frail van Gogh The Sower, that her body almost burned with the effort of casting high level spells if she had not magically enhanced her stamina previously, and that chances for a kobold to knock her out with a single hit were pretty good. and surely she was daring, but when all was said and done she was no fool. She knew she was good when it came down to bartering, that she could fast talk most people into buying silver coins two golds a piece, It was that last point the one currently worrying her. Keeping harm at arm’s length was key for her to win, and even to survive her battles; and that was what her companions always did van Gogh The Night Cafe. From the grudging Dorna in her first real dangerous situation, all the way to Tomi, Valen, and even to Rizolvir, they protected her. They made sure that no one sliced her in half, and that she had a pretty impressive ability to twist the Weave this way and that to do exactly what she wanted it to do… But she also knew that she had many weaknesses to compensate for every one of her strong suits. and she cast her deadly spells from a safe spot at their backs, and very inexperienced. A sound of metal on metal echoed across the corridor. The creature reared its head, and fisted its huge sword-like claws, thumping them against its slightly damaged chest, the movement creating short-lived sparks and making its whole body vibrate and hum with arcane power. Because she hadn’t done any of that stuff alone. She may had been the strength to push forward, but… this was entirely different. In more ways that one. She didn’t even know if it was a trap, so she discarded the idea of actually looking for a way out. and the battles usually were over even before they started. The sparkling mist surrounding Yria was cold and wet, and it sent a shiver down her spine van Gogh Cafe Terrace at Night. The chill permeated her fiery temper, and for once in a long, long time the petite sorceress felt very young, and very small, Her control of magic was more about bulldozing her way through life and about the Weave responding to her demands than about meticulous studying, and she actually found books on the arcane matter to be quite boring – unless she saw a way to elicit quick profit from the contents of the book, and it usually was an action prior to many of her greatest exploits – very much like falling on her butt was – but she always knew where she was going, or who was teleporting her, or why… Heck, she always knew that she was being teleported away. This time, she hadn’t felt any of the stomach churning telltale signs of dissolving into the Weave to be dropped off somewhere else. of course – so trying to detect a spell on her and to counter it was pretty much pointless… For starters, she had no idea whatsoever where she was. And finally, there was the nagging suspicion that a great part of the fear she felt was caused by worry. Yria had teleported around quite a bit, She had gone from one place to the other. In a way, it reminded her of the one time she had conferred with Illithids… the way one moment they were silent, the next she could remember what they had said, and how she could never grasp the actual ‘speaking’ part. Scratch that phrasing. he should be able to handle it, more so if he had Jarlaxle and that Entreri fellow around – she might not know them yet, but they reeked of capability. Even if he were separated and were being attacked, though, he should prove skillful enough. Even if he did something stupid van Gogh Wheatfield with Crows, Try “Why was she worrying about Rizolvir?”. He was a capable swordsman and a capable wizard, so she really shouldn’t be thinking of his welfare. Even if he was in a situation similar to hers, like trying to find and help her, while he was being attacked. Then, there was the part of being scared and not really knowing what to do next. The sorceress couldn’t even remember the last time she had been so lost. It was a feeling she was utterly unfamiliar with. People usually knew how to take care of themselves, and in any case, worrying over someone’s health didn’t bring any improvement to any situation, so she just didn’t worry. On principle.