IMP

 "Eliat make pawn of you too."

      He looked closely. They were two. He needed to be sure. He didn't know why they reduced. Was that some new level of prank? He couldn't be sure. He needed to affirm. He was done hiding behind the tree. He needed to face whatever time would toss at him. Whether or not he had done anything outta his bound back in Eliat, in the underworld, he didn't care. Twasnt some big things to be puked. He wouldn't be the first and neither would he be the last. He wouldn't make he seem as though he was the worst thing in the context of being. He dumped the thought, else he would be jilted by pain. He did what was considered grievous, but of course he would point tons of leaders and others who had done what was worst than his. He had read about some. He had met some in his guts. While he still plied the route of the abyss, he would make confetti of his curiosity. He was used to it. But that was not the time to make guesses or prune hypotheses. Business needed to be dealt with and he could handle it. Of course he would.

       He travelled his eyes again. At that moment, he was sure that only two of them were there. Of course he had no idea what had happened to the remaining. He had fought and fought that his hands almost made isolation of themselves. He knew that he yet had to train his tail. They could help him more. But he wasn't sure if that would be necessary. He wasn't sure if that would be of great consequence. He was only sure of the fact that, after getting rid of the two before him, he would be free from the spells of the underworld. But sooner or later they would track him again, but of course he would be ready for them. He had ever been and would ever be. Fighting the Centuars was not a mill around his neck. They were nothing like the Satyrs. The Satyrs were crazier and ruthless. He knew if they were the ones to be fought, he might give up. He considered closely as they moved towards him,damn! Twas a Satyr and a Centuar. Were they the survivors? Did the remaining return to the underworld. He needed to fiddle with their rage and buy time. Two at a time wouldn't be a cake. He knew that quite alright.

      "You two survivors? Wanna be heroes? Won't you return to momma and be breastfed?"

foster a fruit. He hadn't thought twould go that way. He hadn't had a successful thought in a long time. He had just been living. Escaping from one world to the other. Fighting under the water was the worst experience he had ever had. There was an advantage to it actually, but the disadvantages were outta this world. Damn! It could be very murderous. Imagine having to fight a lanky shark alongside groups of Centuars. He even had no idea how he had survived the odds, but probably time

to say that he should fight till death. But he realized that his semantic stance was defected. That was not what his father meant. He realized what he meant to fight to die. The eager one wishes to die, death runs away from such. Why wouldn't poor death? Everyone would cower before him. Everyone would crumble before him. Everyone would fall before him. Everyone would quake before him. And then a stray being? He wouldn't quake, fall, run before him? How daring such could

 "Return to Eliat and be saved from the

   The Satyr picked from where

father sent his pleasantries and wished

for their hooey. He had never been and wouldn't start being.