Bahamut was in an abandoned building, bored out of his mind, he had thought about setting it on fire, but instead he just sat in it, sharpening his swords. He didn't use them much, but it could never hurt to have them ready. His glaive was in the far corner of the room, propped in the corner.

Mowen had heard of this place, this Bandits Refuge. It was supposed to be a place of peace, but there were rumors that the area had been upset lately. The great feild he had crossed on his way here was sunny--sunny and humid. It was enough to give him a nosebleed. There were not many noise in the area, and Mowen smiled at the thought--he wasnt going to have to stay here long.

When he reached the first stone in the circle--the black one--he felt a chill almost immediately. It ran up his spine and pulled up the hairs on the bask of his neck--only one spirit or other spiritual creature here was upset. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, and started coughing. The smell of a bloodied air. Mowen walked out to it, holding his nose, and climbed atop.

For the next fifteen gut-wrenching minutes, Mowen knelt on the stone with his hands pulled together infront of his face prayer style--his lips were moving and naught but a whisper came out of his mouth, and it dissapeared into the wind. The spirit did not seem to want to let go of this plane of existance, but he continued to soothe the crying soul. The sad spirit of air began to calm, and within a matter of seconds the poor thing had left his sences.

Wiping his eyes, he slid off of the golden thing and felt himself being watched, as if eyes were watching his every move. Looking against the tormenting sun, he thought he saw a shadow move... The wind began to become strong as the will of Mowen controlling the wind. He walked about five minutes and saw again the shadow entering in a abandoned building.

He senses something wrong, but then shrugs, continuing to sharpen the two swords Osan'Gar and Aran'Gar. He started to feel a little uneasy, but he ignored it. He figured whatever it was would be here soon if it was anything at all.

The air was heavy when he enters in the abandoned bulding with a resonant waft of decay, a thick odour that seduced his senses as he knelt, breathing in the stagnant air. The essence of suffering surrounded him, a familiar mantle bowing his slender shoulders, a chill play of wind toying with the coiled lengths of his dark hair. Around him, the gaping maw of shattered windows watched, predatory eyes accessing his fitful movements as he stared vacantly outwards.
He opened a rusty metal heavy door when he begins to hear someone breathing inside of that room. He hadn't many choices the stranger inside of that room knows already that he was behind the door with the noise when is being opened. Mowen entered in the room and see a stranger sharping two swords. He waited for his reaction not offering welcome or good day!

Bahamut doesn't look up at the stranger."Greetings. Never expected to see anyone here, but then again, Imythess is a strange place. What brings you here?" He finishes sharpening the sword, then looks up, green eyes glowing.

Mowen stayed a little impressed with the manner that he react his presence "Hello i am Mowen an high Elf! Don't you wanna tell me ur name stranger?" Said Mowen with a polite voice. *I presence evil coming in his direction* thought Mowen.

"Bahamut"He said nothing else. He was hoping he hadnt heard of him, because he hated people staring at the only fallen God who still inhabited Imythess besides Kuya."What's yours?"