Saffron awoke in Darkness.
He feared changing back into his human self when he realized he was in his larger form. He had no idea the rules of this game, nor it's consequences, but he did know doing nothing was keeping him fine for the moment.
Saffron heard breathing to his right. It was not the breathing of a regular man, nor even that of one like Saffron. From the magnitude and sound Saffron heard, added with his earlier experience, Saffron realized what it came from.
Drakmor awoke, punching a man that hovered over him in the gut and kicking another man before he realized they were allies. Luckily, Baron caught one man that had flew from Drakmors fist, and Darrol had blocked his kick.
"Dammit, that hurt," Darrol said, his brown hair streaming down his face, along with some blood, as his arm changed from a large furry, muscled arm to his regular arm.
"S-sorry," Drakmor replied, rubbing his head. "How long have I been out?"
"Try all night," Darrol said, walking off as Drakmor stood up. He found himself in a large building that looked like a tavern dining room. Except, instead of tables and men drinking, there were multiple pallets with injured men being taken care of. Drakmor watched as the women cared for the men and how the men moaned in pain. Some looked worse than others.
"What a wimp," a familiar voice said to Drakmor's side. Drakmor ignored Speedy, and walked out into the street. There, he was greeted by Zero and his dozen Mounseiken guards. Drakmor kept forgetting they were there.
"What's the situation, Zero?" Drakmor asked the silver haired man.
Zero stared up at him, bruises on his face surprising Drakmor. "Well, they got in almost all there forces that were set up outside the gates and nearly killed a third of your queens army." Zero looked mad. He wore a white robe, made in the royal Mounseiken style, which probably was the reason for his anger. Of all the things Zero hated, it was royal clothing.
Drakmor turned to see Baron running out of the tavern. The man wore a blooded shirt and ribbed pants. Did he not learn to change?
"What is it?" Drakmor asked nonchelantly as he walked off. He looked down and noticed the new white scar on his barren torso. It looked good with the other scars. A scar always helped when attracting ladies, so long as you didn't have one on your face. That was what a friend had told Drakmor once, anyway.
"The Empress wishes to see you," He said.
"Blue is here."
Drakmor bolted for Sage's meeting rooms, not caring that all he wore was tattered pants, showing off his mechanical arm, his silver skin, and his multitude of scars. They could get over it.
He needed to kill Blue.