[i]Gilgalad glowered angrily as the message played over the television, his scowl deepening with each syllable uttered by the man on screen. Breathing deeply, he stood, his golden polymer armor shifting and clanking as the pieces struck each other in his motion. Turning away from the television, he growled, a sheening sound splitting the air and a short-sword impaling the machine behind him in an eruption of glass and circuitry. The Golden King moved to where his Legion lay, overlooking all those assembled there, his eyes still alit with livid rage at the impunity of the man who'd taken Clause. Speaking, his voice was in a tone well known to his compatriots, that of purpose and promise.[/i] "[b]Legion. A mongrel has elected to cut short their lives on this day. All things, and all people, as you know, belong to me. They have taken one of my things. A fat thing, named Santa Clause. We are going to track them down, kill them, and reclaim what rightfully belongs to me. "...[/b]" [i]The Golden King surveyed the men before him, squinting and searching vehemently for something, or someone.[/i] "[b]...can anyone, anyone at all from among you simpletons, tell me where Luana, the First Sword of the Legions, is?[/b]"