[Gauls]

The wind kicked up and rustled the leaves upon the ground. The whimpering vysstichi hadn't even noticed Ral's ritualistic smearing of blood upon his face. Still sobbing like a baby and not paying attention to the predicament that he had willingly gotten himself into for it was death that was walking with the dark elf all along. Perhaps it would come as a ending point to his suffering or maybe not. Ral was going to make sure he suffered before the blackness took him.

Just like in the Jorel temple, the burning sensation began to tingle within Ral. This time instead of just flying into rage and not having any control over it, Ral was trying to learn to at least keep conscious thought of what he was doing. Letting the rage take him as before and waking up not knowing where he was would be an occupational hazard upon the battlefield.

The more the dark elf sobbed, the more it seemed to irritate the orc more and more. The blood was the trigger that Jorel gave him to focus this hatred that was growing within him. Little annoying things, little hateful memories, they were all amplified suddenly as the color vision in Ral's eyes began to turn red. Still able to see in just this one color, it was still obvious that the orc was starting to loose his chain of thought. Ral had only had the rage once and failed miserably at controlling it. This day of practice had to be better or else he would never be able to wield his gift from Jorel in battle... well, not safely enough for Ral at least.