The man that had risen from the coffin, Skylar Laverdure, turned towards the other Quidill Lucas. He was pressed up against the wall, staring at him with wide, terrified brown eyes. Lucas was a small Quidill with a bow strapped to his back with a quiver filled with arrows. His hair was a rich navy blue and his skin was seafoam green, and he was quivering like a dog caught out in the rain. Skylar's eyes narrowed before he walked towards him, lifting the sword that dripped with his friend's blood.

"I don't want to fight!" Lucas stuttered out, lifting his hands to show he was unarmed. "Please, I- I know who you are, and I'm so, so sorry we woke you up! Please, forgive me, I-!" Lucas screamed and ducked underneath Skylar's sword when he swung it at him, and the blade ricocheted off the stone with a flurry of sparks. Lucas ducked underneath Skylar's arm and sprinted towards the exit, only for Skylar to turn and swing at him. His fist caught the backside of his head and Lucas yelped as he went crashing to the ground., a couple of arrows from his quiver falling out with a clatter of metal and wood. Skylar shook his hand, flicking black drops of blood to the floor. He stalked towards Lucas, who was holding the back of his head and trying desperately to crawl away. Skylar lifted his sword and was prepared to swing it down when he suddenly stopped.

Cerra stood between him and the Quidill, his hands out in front of him as he breathed heavily. Sky stared down at him, eyebrows slowly knitting together in confusion. Cerra glanced back, then turned his head to look down at the Quidill. Lucas was staring up at him with wide and confused teary eyes. "Go!" He hissed.

"I don't, I don't understand, we, we tried to-" Lucas whispered, scrambling to his feet.

"GO!" Cerra shouted, and Lucas squeaked before he rushed off without another word. Cerra looked back at Skylar, who was glaring at him with narrowed eyes. Neither of them moved as they listened to Lucas race down the hallway and then leave the tomb completely with a slam of the hatch.

"He didn't want to fight," Cerra growled fiercely when he saw the burning accusation in Skylar's eyes. "You can kill me if you want, I'm willing to fight. But he didn't want to. He shouldn't have to die because of his friend's mistakes." Skylar stared at him with his narrowed gaze for a few more moments, before he merely huffed and shoved his sword back into the scabbard on his belt.

"He's going to get the others," he growled and Cerra tried not to jump at how deep and raspy it was.

"No, he won't," he responded nonetheless, steady and calm, lowering his hands once Skylar's sword was away. He took a few steps back, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him. "So... Skylar Laverdure, huh?" He asked.

"Just Sky." The man grunted in reply, looking around the tomb with critical gold eyes. "What year is it?"

"2019, compañero," Cerra said, leaning down to pick up his dagger, which had fallen from his pocket when he was yanked out of the coffin. "How long you've been in there?" He looked at Sky. "Why /were/ you in there?" Sky didn't look at him or respond to his question, walking up to the coffin instead. He reached down and rummaged in it for a few moments though Cerra didn't know what he'd be rummaging /through/ before he suddenly pulled out a sheet of fabric. When he swung it around himself and clipped it onto his shoulders, Cerra realized it was a...

"Capes went out a long time ago!" He said, drawing out the 'o' to emphasize it. Sky glared at him. He was doing a lot of that.

"It's a cloak." He growled before he walked towards Cerra. "You said it was 2019?" Cerra nodded, stretching. He winced as his shoulders ached from when they had been pressed up against the coffin lid. Sky was still for a few moments before he sighed and crossed his arms. "2019... I went to sleep around..." He tapped his chin for a couple of moments. "At least three hundred years." He concluded. Cerra's eyes widened before he snorted.

"Oh, you're pulling my leg! There's no way! You'd be ancient! How old are you?!"
"I've been alive for twenty-one years."
"Oh then just say twenty-one man, anyway, you'd have to be at least three hundred and twenty-one and you don't look like it at all!"

Sky turned a critical eye to Cerra who shrank back a bit under the gaze. "Magic." He said simply. Cerra blinked. "Oh, do tell me you know magic." He growled in frustration, putting his hands on his hips. Cerra bristled and put his own hands on his hips in retaliation.

"Of course I know magic! Who doesn't?!" He snapped. "I have it myself!" Sky smirked at him like he was a child he was humoring.

"Do you, now?" Cerra's face flushed red. "Show me!" As soon as he had uttered those words there was a zip of green magic and he found the tip of a dagger inches from his throat. The dagger was well cared for, the blade made of string iron, and the tip told him it had been sharpened recently. The handle had a unique design of iron strands that acted as a shield for the actual, wooden handle. Wrapped around the handle wasn't Cerra's hand, instead, it was a bright green aura. Sky stared at it while Cerra smirked at him widely, obviously proud.

"Is that it." Sky finally said, and Cerra's smirk fell a little before it twisted into a scowl.

"What do you mean is that IT?!" He shouted. "I'm one of the best BladeDancers they've got! At least, I was!" Sky's eyes widened before he looked at Cerra.

"BladeDancers? You're a BladeDancer?" Cerra huffed and he lowered the dagger, letting it come to his hand.

"I used to be." He growled. "But then my partner betrayed me, that stupid snake." He hissed. Sky's eyes turned sharp.

"Hey, watch it!" He growled, though Cerra really didn't understand why. "What do you mean, he betrayed you?"

"He was stealing from the BladeDancers and he blamed it on me!" He huffed. "That's the only reason I'm here, I was run out of New Byrne and got myself right in Quidill territory." He kicked at a pebble on the ground.

"Why don't you explain it to them?" Cerra rolled his eyes and looked at Sky.

"Man, I know you aren't really from around here, but lemme tell you right now; the BladeDancers don't care if you've got evidence. If they think that you're guilty, then you're guilty!" He shoved his hands into the hoodie of his jacket after pushing his dagger into his shoe, which Sky gave him a weird look for. "Now I gotta go back there, break into their base, get my second dagger..." He sighed.

"Why do you have to do that?" Sky grunted.

"Because it's a beautiful blade! Duh!" Cerra said, rocking back on his heels.

"It's worth getting caught over?"
"Oh, definitely. And I won't get caught. And if I do, they'll kill me, but..."

Sky gestured for Cerra to continue and he sighed loudly. “Well, if they kill me, that’s fine. No one’s gonna miss me but my crew and Abuela, and my crew’s already lost so much that they’ll move on and take care of my Abuela.” Sky stared at him. “I mean, I either go out trying to get my dagger, or I live the rest of my life as a miserable, one-dagger wielding wrench!”

“That seems a little excessive.” Sky said dully. Cerra glared at him. “But, I’ll help you.” Cerra’s glare broke as he blinked.

“What?” He asked. “But, don’t you have something to do? I mean, I’m guessing that you went into that whole… Coma thing for a reason.”

“I did, and this is contributing to that reason.” Sky answered patiently like he was talking to a kid. Cerra was getting really annoyed by his whole tone.

“Okay, well, what is that reason?!” He snapped. Sky sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“You really don’t know who I am?” He asked.

“Not one clue,” Cerra smirked, enjoying the look Sky gave him.

“I’m Skylar Laverdure.”
“Yeah, I guessed that-”
“I was born in 1724 and after my home kingdom fell to the Quidills when I was sixteen I raised an army. I called it the Laverdure Wardens, but we were called the Wardens for short.”

Cerra’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t question it because Sky glared at him. “We were winning, but due to a lot of losses during a series of battles, we ended up losing. To protect Laverdure and my army my friend, Theresa Vine, put me into a deep sleep and put me in here so that I would be protected from the world. The spell put a forcefield around Laverdure and feed off my life source, which slowed my aging and,” he reached up and flicked the white bang, “I’m guessing caused this. But the shield is gone from Laverdure now, and the Quidills will be able to invade again, which they will definitely do.”

“This is heavy,” Cerra said. Sky sighed and pressed on.

“So, I need to gather the descendants of my army leaders, rise the army back up, and defend Laverdure and defeat the Quidills once and for all.” Sky looked at Cerra before he put his hand on his shoulder solemnly. “You are the descendant of one of the greatest people I ever knew; Jocelyn Byrne. She was the leader of the Swifters division and one of the fiercest fighters I ever had the pleasure of fighting alongside.” Cerra stared and Sky smiled. “I hope you take her place.” A silence stretched between them for an awkward amount of time.

“What.” Cerra finally said.