Group Two - Magic Users
There was an almost cruel smile on Daemon's face as they walked towards the area of battle. The cold, glorious Black rested on his finger and his neck and Daemon reveled in their weight. How long had it been since he was able to use his Jewels in the manner they were supposed to be used? Far, far too long in Daemon's estimation.
He stepped onto the field of battle, feeling the psychic energy coursing through his veins. All those years of being imprisoned seemed to melt away in an instant. The pain and the memories would always remain, of course, but his true nature was returning in full. No longer just the title of the Black-Jewelled Warlord Prince, scraping by on small chips of the red in his cufflinks, he was the Warlord Prince.
Daemon glanced at the woman beside him and smiled. This was how it was supposed to be.