"Now we shall see if thou canst rise above the novice swordsman."
Since their return from the blacksmiths, with James adjusting himself to his new armaments, Glenn was now eager to train his pupil into the next step of his sword training.  He had seen the potential to go further, and to allow James a passage anew to survival within the bountiful sunlit beauty of a spring forest, surrounded by chirruping creatures and the softest of the rustling breeze.  A perfectly soothing atmosphere to focus one's skills.
When ready, James was handed a very basic claymore.  Large at 4 feet long like that of his scissors; sturdy with a handguard separating hilt and blade at a length of twice the blade itself; and somewhat heavier than the scissors which surprised him slightly.  Tenderly gripping the hilt in both hands, he bent forwards slightly at first, but pulled himself back up fully to keep his posture strong, settling into his stance.
	"Nnngh...w-wait, what about the scissors?"
	"Whilst thy scissors can be wielded with both hands like this sword, they are still a unique weapon which require their own devotion to training.  But one must learn how to even wield such weight and power in both hands, before even devoting oneself to such a style."
	"Oh, so now I'm walking before I'm running?"
	"Precisely, James!"
	"Jesus christ..."
	"Now, mimic me once again, but control thyself.  Allowing thyself to be controlled by the blade is a grave mistake to make in battle."
Once more Glenn began to swing the Masamune with precise motions, slowly with great control and strength in his amphibious shining musculature.  His student meanwhile was trying not to swing the blade too hard, finding it more physically tiring to control it then to let it swing freely, but nevertheless following the motions.
Naturally he fumbled and struggled with the weight of such a large weapon, like he had done with the scissors, remembering his failing fight with the ogres a year ago.  Over the first two months, he was just learning how to wield the sword, much to his frustration but resolving himself to humility eventually.  All for the sake of seeking his instructor's praise.

To be able to make the claymore swing only as much as he wanted was difficult enough.  Everytime he got a surge of energy, he swung too far and usually unbalanced himself.  Whenever he tried to be gentle, he didn't have enough force to make it swing.  The first few months were entirely composed of finding the right balance of strength, as well as to improve his own strength and be able to wield it at such a level.
Eventually James became lost within his own rhythm, slowly gaining the understanding of how to wield it, how to make it his own.  How to not let it control him but only slightly, like the first time in gripping the reins of a horse.  You only had the slightest idea in controlling it, but you still had yet to do so.  Whenever he wasn't clumsily swinging and thrusting with the large blade, he was strengthening his limbs and reflexes, which were soon given an even greater challenge when Glenn brought out two long wooden poles.  Four feet long with a handguard to separate hilt and "blade".
	"Thy reflexes within a single hand are impressive," he began as he handed one to his pupil, "but how shalt they be within both hands?"
	"Wait...hey these aren't so heavy, kinda like a two-by-four!"
	"When wielding a larger weapon, one must understand that thy reflexes are weighed down by thy blade.  As such, one must learn to compensate and anticipate thy enemy better."
	"Ahhh alright."
	"Now, like always, follow my actions."
Glenn wielded the pole and began to swing it like he would with his Masamune, similar to the short sticks but slower with greater range that made James back off slightly.  He swung from left to right, up and down, diagonal and opposite, before readily facing the raptor to initiate the new set of reflex training.  At first James had to compensate for the weight and as such his reflexes did suffer as expected.  Even when he had achieved a rhythm one day, he would lose it the next, restarting with forced humility.
	"Dammit, why isn't this working!?!  I know I can block you, I can SEE you about to hit me!"
	"Thy strength must match thy reflexes James.  Thou must compensate for thy lesser strength with such a weapon, and as such thou must either strengthen thy body, or sharpen thy mind.  I will make sure that both body and mind art finely honed within thee."
With little else to say, James continued to fail when his strength let down his reflexes.  He was constantly screwing up, despite being incredible with the short sticks whenever they returned to short swords to keep the basics fresh in his mind.  Once per week they would do basics, going back to short swords, keeping the raptor's skill sharp, before returning to longswords every other day.  Weeks passed, and little by little James would turn a little bit stronger, a tiny bit faster.  Not enough to perfect two-handed reflex training but enough to show improvement, if only slightly.

Glenn of course had anticipated this, knowing that to wield such a heavy blade was an exhausting chore for anyone, and he could not even imagine how he would be able to create a regimen for James in knowing how to wield an impractical weapon.  As much as he wanted to hand James a claymore or something of actual sword design, he could not help but feel uneasy about the scissors.
There was an aura he felt, perhaps it was an instinct of his over the years of having seen many blades and many warriors both pious and vile.  He saw within James' expression a desire to be good, to exemplify himself with a more paragon nature.  But he also saw within his pupil's eyes an unrepentant fury, the ideals of a chaotic renegade whom, if not careful, could easily end up traversing the road to hell, deluding himself.
The scissors only worried him evermore, for he could not exactly see what aura they had, but he could already tell that it had a history of violence.  Nothing like the more noble blades he had seen.  A history of murder and desecration.  One day he tenderly asked James:
	"Those...scissors of yours."
	"Yeah?  What about 'em?"
	"Remind me, Where didst thou obtain them?"
	"Oh, I took them from a mansion, barely escaped with my life from this little psycho bastard after me, I needed some kinda self-defence."
	"...hmmm.  And nothing more?"
	"Nope...why d'ya ask?"  James could sense anxiety within his master.
	"It is nothing...but I must warn thee.  A weapon may only be as good or evil as its user...but that does not stop some from making sure they stay one way."
	"Meaning?"
	"Just as there are the most holiest of weapons such as the Masamune...there exist also the most vile of creations steeped in blood."
	"...ahhhh huh."
	"What I mean is, I sense the possibility that thy weapon is not holy."
	"Well neither was the guy who had it."
	"But his essence has perhaps seeped into it.  As a swordsman who has faced against many blades I have a sense for the inherent nature of some weapons.  All I ask, is that if thou shalt continue to wield it, do not let it change thee."
	"R-right...you okay, you look real worried sir."
	"It is nothing, as I said."
	"Are you sure?  Is...is there anything else bothering you?"
	"Not at all."
	"Well...if we're gonna talk about things that are nothing then..."
Under the guise of sympathising with a brother in arms, James tenderly held Glenn's hand, feeling the smooth leather glove that covered leathery amphibious skin.  He resisted the urge to slide his hand up along the arm and pull him close.
	"I'm always here if you wanna...talk about anything."
	"I thank thee for lending thy ear," said the frog humbly before pulling his hand away gently.
James was confused moreso about what his instructor was thinking.  The immature part of him was hoping that it was a burgeoning love he felt for his student.  One that could be so easily reciprocated. if he could just tell him his love, a love that had been growing inside James until it hurt, begging to embrace Glenn.

He almost wished there would be a moment, any moment that his master would be grieving, or within a terrible emotional state, just for the excuse to hug him.  To hold him, to whisper reassurance in his ear, to kiss him on the cheek, then upon the lips as they let their emotions sway wildly within vulnerability.  He imagined how it would go, how it would begin, how it would end.  How he imagined it many nights to himself, climaxing when he imagined this heroic gentlemanly swordsman taking his body, making love to him in the warmest embrace.
And yet he could never ask.  He had no idea if Glenn felt that way, if Glenn was even into guys, and if he wasn't, if Glenn even approved of homosexuals.  What if he was one of those far backwards people who'd immediately slaughter him for thinking such things?  He became frightened, his immature love for him turned fragile and whenever he would think over this dilemma, he would end up weeping at night.
Glenn usually heard his student doing such some nights.  But he thought it was of other things, homesickness usually.  He knew James had been through a rather tumultuous life, even if he did not know everything about him.  But he at least knew that his teenage years in growing up were filled with arrogance and a lack of discipline, something that would cripple him if he did not learn.  In fact one of the purposes of this training was to teach James humility, to know his weaknesses and to realise he must improve upon them even when it seemed like no improvement was occurring.
In his better lovestruck dreams, the raptor would imagine everything about his master.  He would imagine how Glenn would one day realise his student's young passion, and assist him with a kiss upon gentle cool lips which would open ever so slightly. Their tongues would soon meet, the frog's wrapping around James', suckling so strongly.  He had seen the tongue as a strange reflex action amidst the occasional involuntary croaks and ribbits.  He imagined that tongue sliding inside his mouth so wetly, to suckle and relish as it tickled the inside of his cheeks.
He imagined how Glenn would be a passionate lover, one who would savour his lover in every single way, caressing the scaled skin as it was slowly exposed from being undressed.  Standing behind his student as his tongue slid all over his body, to wetten him with lust as if savouring the most delicious meal in existence.  How that long tongue would caress his scales, sliding around the raptor's waist, squeezing him tightly, tempting him like the serpent.  Feeling the sucker-like end slowly worm its way down to his unbuttoning crotch to taste his arousal, slithering in its search for male warmth.

James would begin mentally begging to his dream lover to take him, to ravish him like he were a maiden, imagining some sort of appropriately ye olde expresson for how he would take his pupil like he would a lover.  A metaphor of flowers to bloom within each other when he would fill him, with James' cock throbbing in both reality and fantasy, begging in his mind to be pushed down onto a bed.  He could gaze upon his instructor undressing before him, to show a wonderfully handsome physique he had rarely caught sight of, before he was fucked deeply within the throes of lust.
And that was what he imagined, even if his dreams did not choose to bless him with such a vision, stroking himself harder and faster, trying not to cry out for his sir, trying to keep the fantasy inside his head.  His eyes would be tightly shut as he fantasised of Glenn's tongue slowly teasing his puckered hole, lubing him up, showing how easily he could penetrate his not-so-virgin lad with his tongue alone, but deciding not to with a little dignity perhaps.  And then he would feel that sweet penetration, that hot imaginary lance thrusting deep within him, grappling the slippery shoulders.  Claws softly poking into them, crying out inside his head for Glenn, begging to be taken.
He hadn't felt this way since his first boyfriend when he was 17, an older male goat nearing his 40s who was a mechanic back in Chicago.  A reliable friend of Sarah's and the community who also became something of a teacher to James about certain things.  One who gave him a rudimentary course on mechanics but nothing he could put to good use.

He felt like he was having his first relationship all over again.  There was something about this that was somehow different from his time with Daisy.  With Daisy, there was a purity, an innocence that could never be tainted, as if he was making love with an angel.  One who wanted to be his equal, one whom he could never say was the dominant or the submissive in a relationship.
He had many ideas of what relationships worked, and he admitted that he loved normal ones just as much as he loved dom/sub ones.  When with an older male, he seemed to always end up as submissive.  There was something about an older male making James his boy that he loved, not in the sense of being owned or something weird like that, but in the sense of belonging somewhere.
He was never sure why, but it was reviving itself within his fantasies of Glenn, an entirely different level of love from with Daisy.  One that warmed his heart in a different way, biting his lip to restrain himself as he came when the Glenn of his dreams came inside him.
He laid there, panting silently in the dark, sweating from his body.  A throbbing raptor cock spurted his seed all over his scaled belly, his eyes slowly refocusing from their post-climactic blur.  All he could do was gaze wistfully at the shape of his instructor in the bed opposite, before wiping himself silently clean and return to sleep content.
Over the next few months, James continued his training, slowly improving but never noticeably until much later than he realised, when sometime in the summer he was given something of a mid-level test.  News had come to Glenn, and he began tooling himself up quickly for an incoming battle, much to James' surprise one morning upon awakening to see his instructor armed to the teeth.
	"W-woah what's going on sir?"
	"There is a disturbance from the mountains to the north of us.  We must make haste to deal with the matter."
	"I'll get my scisso-"
	"No, bring thy claymore and gladius."
	"B-but-"
	"Do not argue!"
	"Y-yes sir."

Annoyed as he was, he knew now was not the time to get haughty in front of his master and tooled himself up, gazing apologetically at the scissors as he took his claymore and gladius.  He briefly pondered on if he should even give his weapons names, before heading out behind Glenn, making their way towards the mountains of the north.
James had rarely seen them, having been in the forest most of his time where the canopies usually blotted out any mountainous horizons.  But gazing upon them, he realised that he hadn't really seen mountains with his own eyes since his time on the planet Popstar.  These ones seemed far more intimidating than Yoghurt Yard, especially considering they had a less pleasant name, at least he assumed so.
They were not capped with snow, but they certainly looked all the more fearful for it, indomitably brown and jagged, scraping the sky like the jawbone of a dragon.  Reaching the base of it only made James more fearful at the arduous climb ahead of them.
	"So...where's this disturbance?"
	"Apparently some vagrants were seen carrying a few people from Dorino to here.  We must be careful James, for there are possibly several hostages at hand in this situation.  Before anything else, we must bind ourselves together."
Nodding softly, the raptor let his master tie a rope around his waist sturdily so before attaching to his own waist, a suitable harness should one or the other fall.  Soon they began to climb upwards, a small but craggly mountain path offering little support for the two, hugging the rock face for support and gripping whenever a hold was available.  James had not so much a problem as he first thought, due to his large claws that allowed him extra grip.  If anything he was more worried for his instructor, who nevertheless endured the climb with little problem due to his tremendously strong legs.

James climbed whereas Glenn leapt upwards, keeping in pace with each other despite their differences in speed.  But the harness allowed enough length to keep their own pace up, occasionally having to wait for the other to catch up when it turned too taut.  The higher they climbed, the stronger the winds became that dared to push them off.  But they resisted, steeling their nerves, the raptor turning rather frightened at the sudden prospect of how high he had climbed within half an hour.  He tensely turned his head slightly to look down, already regretting it the moment he saw the ground quite a distance from him before clinging tightly to the rock.
	"GAAAAH!"
	"James, what ails thee!?"
	"I...n-n-nothing just...just trying to handle this!"
	"Ignore the ground, keep scaling upwards!"
	"How the fuck did anyone carry people up this damn thing!?!?"
	"That I do not know, but we shall soon find out!"
Onwards they clambered, with James' endurance slowly dwindling and occasionally having to brace against the wind shear to recover himself.  Panting hard, pushing himself upwards, silently thankful for his natural climbing ability, digging his claws into the rock.  The temperature turned colder around the two, their breaths becoming wispy clouds from shuddering lips, the raptor gritting his teeth hard as he did all his best to not lose his grip.
Glenn had not as good a grip from the rock but he could certainly leap for holds above him better than his pupil.  The sun shone high above, outcroppings became thankful waypoints to rest upon for a little rebalancing, including one large enough for the two to sit upon sturdily, legs splayed out and dangling from both sides.
	"How much...further?" asked James.
	"Hard to say, but all we can do is keep climbing."
	"Lemme just...hhhh...get my breath back."
	"Very well, we may rest for a few minutes."
James used his break as best as he could, sitting behind his master, panting on his back, trying to ignore the situational thoughts rising within him towards a less innocent direction.  Hearing himself breathe raggedly did not help.  He forced his arousal back, restraining it to keep his focus, and when Glenn began to regrip the rock face once again, James followed suit.  Clambering upwards, his arms burnedrom excruciating endurance, heaving and trying to not weaken his grip.  Eventually, after what had been a solid hour and a half of climbing with little rest, they soon found themselves upon a plateau, at the top of one of the mountains.

Sharing the same space as them upon the rather formidably-sized plateau, of at least an acre and a half wide, was an assortment of rogues.  Ogres with several humans tied up in tear-stained ropes and gags.  Alongside them were four large bronze-coloured wyverns, with wing-like arms and hooked snouts that glistened viciously in the sunlight.  It wasn't long before the ogres looked towards their incoming opponents, a snarl from their steel-armoured leader as he stepped forwards.
	"The hell are you doin' here!?  I think yer a li'l lost arentcha?"
	"Release thy hostages," demanded Glenn, "or suffer death from our blades, fiends."
	"Hehehe, ohhh you think you gonna talk us down to let 'em go!?  I don' think so, these lot'll make a fine sell."
	"Do not test me, ogre.  I shan't leave without them."
	"Wha...Lizbeth!?!"
Sure enough, as James had noted, one of the hostages was unfortunately Lizbeth, wearing a practicing medical smock, whimpering with hope for her friends to save them.
	"Ooooh you know the pretty li'l doctor?"
	"You do anything to her and I'll rip your face off!"
	"You better leave now or else yer gonna be the one without a head!"
	"FUCK YOU, I AIN'T LEAVING WITHOUT THOSE PEOPLE!"
	"Then lemme make you leave!"
	"Prepare thyself!"
Glenn wielded his Masamune strongly with proclamation, and began to face off with the leader.  One of the cohorts attempted to go for James who brought out his claymore, seeing his foe wielding a large sturdy wooden hammer.  Slashing upwards on his first strike to catch the hammer to the side and knock it slightly from his foe's grip, he soon swung his claymore in an arc above his head, bringing it downwards in the opposite diagonal direction to cleave brutally through his foe.  The ogre soon sported a huge bleeding red cut across his body, but not deep enough to kill him, the enraged bleeding ogre trying to regrip his hammer and slam downwards onto James' head.
James however dodged to the left with the momentum of his blade in expectation of a reprisal, and swung horizontall underneath the beast's arm, cutting deeply underneath it and rendering him easily crippled through blood loss.  Even though he didn't know much about medicine, he knew for certain that the absolute river of blood pouring from the bloated flesh was going to kill him.

He was not done yet however, when he let his attention falter for a moment and was hit by a backhand swing of the mallet, slamming into his right shoulder with a growl of surprised pain.  But the dwindling strength of his foe had weakened the force, and the raptor decided to finish him off with a two-handed stab straight into the kidneys, growling ferociously as he cut straight out of the kidneys.  He watched his foe die, a mixture of fear, fury and survival instinct fuelling his energy onwards.
Glenn was not so violent with his opponent, more concerned with blocking the enemy's swings from the ogre's own huge claymore of considerable length, that made him much more difficult to strike at or even get close enough to do so.  Despite his formidable experience, Glenn was not large or intimidating by size alone, especially compared to the hulking reptilian ogre who stood 2 feet above him heavily so.  The amphibious swordsman however had the speed to match, and temporarily blinded the leader with a blast of water to make his move.
However the ogre was not fooled.  The moment he was blinded by the water, he dangerously spun his claymore in a low circle, hoping to slash at the frog's waist or legs, but Glenn jumped over the blade and striked upwards across the armoured right pectoral and face of the monster.  He was rewarded by an infuriated roar, as the higher-class ogre swung his blade out to his right trying to harm Glenn, but failed to do so.  He was soon slashed at the back of the exposed knee, crippling his movement handily so.
	"ARGH!  YOU LITTLE BITCH!"
James grinned at seeing his master get a good few hits in and readily took on the next opponent, who he saw had a scimitar.  A faster blade that he knew would not lose to the slow claymore, a lesson he learnt very quickly when the ogre ran towards him and readily slashed at him, forcing the raptor to guard himself.  He wanted a chance to sheathe his sword and bring out the gladius for a fairer fight, but he was given no such opportunity, continuously blocking the scimitar with all of his reflexes.
While he did his best, he could not avoid being cut along the arms several times before he decided to make a swift dodge to his right, and slash directly across the back of the beast's neck, carving it wide open into a bloody gushing wound that was impossible to block.
	"HAHAHA!  Don't lose your head now!"
With a maddening battle frenzy, he swiftly decapitated his already-dying opponent before he even realised it, taken with the lust for battle and gazing towards the last fourth opponent, who wielded a one-handed mace.
	"Whoops..."

Grinning with wicked glee, James sheathed his claymore while his remaining foe cowered a little from the sight of his friend's dismemberment, and brought out his gladius.  The hostages who sat tied up against the wyverns looked terrified towards the raptor, not even sure if they could trust him.  Nevertheless, the battle soon began between mace and short sword.
Glenn continued to fight his well-skilled opponent, blades striking endlessly, grim faces upon both sides as they unceasingly clashed against each other, neither of them giving in.  The frog was unfortunate to be parried a few times before being struck upon the shoulder or scraped across his chestplate.  But nothing slowed his progress down until a glancing blow struck his leg hard, and wounded his movement.
Forcing himself to stay upright, bleeding into his boots with steeled resolve, he struck hard forwards, forcing the ogre to go backwards closer to the edge.  With his foe's balance lost, the warrior thrust deep and upwards, through the belly and underneath the armour.  A solid lance of pure steel pierced the leader from the intestines to the heart, snugly within the ribcage.
A gurgling roar signified his defeat, panting heavily to try and keep strong, to refuse death.  But he could already feel his blade slowly falling from his hands, weakening as his split organs bled hotly down the Masamune onto Glenn's gloves, dripping between them.  The ogre licked his lips painfully, trying to stay alive, but all he could think of was to step backwards away from the frog and his mighty blade, to un-impale himself from it.

Too late did he realise in his dying mind that he was near the edge of the cliff, and without the slightest bout of resisting gravity, fell solidly from the edge of the cliff.  His body soon broke many bones all over from crunching against rock, dying around 1/4th down the way when his head cracked against the mountain, a mercifully swift death.
James' opponent was already demotivated enough to fight, not to win but to survive, and he did all he could to strike at the raptor's head.  The weight of the mace aided his blows to the point that James' gladius was starting to crack from them, unable to truly resist the force of the solid lump of spiked metal.  The mace-wielder was also not an unskilled opponent, handily blocking and dodging whenever James tried to parry to the side, and soon he had the upper hand when after several failing blocks, the gladius shattered, cracked in two.
James was soon left with only a hilt and some jagged steel a few inches long.  In his disbelief, he was then clubbed brutally to the side of the head, blood flying from several holes made in his snout, almost catching his eye had he not backed off a little.
He did his best in dodging the mace but without a weapon he could do very little to defend himself, an attempted hammerswing from above blocked by his shoulder-guard which began to throb from some of the force rendering through it.  The raptor panicked in turn as he charged in with his broken blade, and stabbed across the ogre's face multiple times, slashing him with both claws and broken gladius, managing to scar the beast enough to keep his mace down.  Grabbing it from the weakened grip, he soon heftily smashed it straight across his face.
	"FUUUCK YOU!"
Glenn saw the end of this fight, noticing his pupil's damaged weapon, the opponent now disarmed and wondering what would occur, hoping his pupil would restrain himself.  He was soon disappointed.

	"Howsit feel now fuckface!?  HUH!?!!  Gonna beat you to a fuckin' pulp when I'm done with you!"
James brought his newly-acquired mace straight down onto the ogre's right arm, breaking it completely, making him scream in agony and try to nurse his broken limb.  But the raptor wouldn't allow him such respite, dragging him hard by said arm painfully across the plateau, with Glenn stepping forwards hastily.
	"JAMES, what in the name of Guardia-"
	"NOT NOW!  So fat boy, you like kidnapping people huh!?!?  You think you could run away with a good doctor so she can go rubbin' your ugly dicks like a slave!?!"
He dragged his defeated foe towards the edge of the cliff, forcing him to look downwards unto the world, the forests and the sea with plains inbetween like models.
	"Look!  I SAID LOOK YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"
	"AAAAGH PLEASE, STOP!  I SURRENDER!"
	"LIKE HELL YOU WILL!  You made a BIG mistake doing what you did, and now yer gonna pay!"
	"JAMES STOP!"
	"WHAT!?!"
Glenn approached and tried to pull his pupil back.
	"This is NOT how a true swordsman acts!"
	"They're fucking slavers, you wanna take him to jail or something!?!"
	"If possible yes, and this one is willing to surrender himself in servitude to the law!  His friends and master hath been defeated in battle, and so hath he.  You disarmed him, now he is no longer a threat."
	"Oh what, that makes him magically harmless!?"
	"We never attack those unable to fight back.  That is not the way I taught thee."
James snarled venomously and looked towards the remaining ogre who weeped, nursing his broken arm against the cliff edge.  He pulled him back and away from the ledge with an order.
	"Get up."
	"Wh...wh-wha-"
	"I said, GET.  UP!"
The ogre weakly tried to do so, whimpering with anguish in his eyes, staring into James' violent bright-green pupils.
	"You able to fight?"
	"N...n-n-no?"
	"You can punch me surely."
	"I-i-i can't...oh fiendlord it hurts..."
	"Oh what, you're not harmless you pathetic little shit, now fight me so you can die like a man!"
	"ENOUGH!"

Without warning, Glenn punched his pupil hard in the bleeding snout, making him fall in surprise and growling up at his master with shock.
	"AGH!  Wh-...WHAT THE HELL!?!"
	"I did not train a monster James!  Not one who delights in the torture and humiliation of his foes!  This beast, a slaver he may be, is unarmed and crippled, and therefore harmless.  Thy inhuman jibes sicken me."
	"He's a monster, why the hell you standing up for him!?"
	"Because I do not relish within the suffering of others!  Such a thing is a taint upon thy soul and if thou shalt not learn to abstain thyself from such wicked pleasure, then I shall cast thee from my sight!"
	"Wha-you...you seriously gonna bring that up, right in front of HIM and these people?"
	"If thou shalt insist on exposing thyself as a bloodthirsty bastard, then that is thy own reward."
	"WHAT YOU CALL ME!?!  SAY THAT AGAIN, I FUCKING DARE YOU!"
He snarled at Glenn, a part of him begging to punch that rubbery face straight into his throat, looking around with heaving rage at the crippled ogre and the hostages, all of whom were genuinely scared of James.  Lizbeth's expression stood out from them all.  She stared at the raptor, her sweet eyes tear-struck with shock at her former patient.  There was something about the look in her eyes that made him stop, and think on what he was doing.
His hand almost reached for his claymore, his clawfingers twitched with boiling rage, his snout twitched and bled.  When he started to falter from the girl's fear, seeing a look in her eyes that he had not seen in so long since another girl he knew, he stopped.  He stopped, and put his arms down slowly, his fury soon consumed by the most bitterest of shame.
	"I...I'm sorry.  I..."
He turned towards the ogre and made one last bout of anger.
	"YOU are fucking lucky that Glenn is here, or else I'd have made sure all your kind would be DEAD."
	"Silence!" warned Glenn.
	"Fine."
	"Now, good sir."
Glenn turned towards the ogre who was shaking with fear.
	"We require thy assistance in escorting the hostages back to their home, perhaps upon thy wyverns.  If thou shalt not comply, then we are all imprisoned upon this mountain, understand?"
	"Y-y-yes sir, th-thank you for...for stopping him."
	"Only by thine own compliance and willingness to change, good sir."
	"I-i-i swear I'll never do this again, I'm gonna leave this all, n-no more of these kidnappings!"
	"Good!  I shall make sure thou shalt keep that promise.  Now, assist me in handling thy wyverns.  James, untie the hostages."
The raptor did what he was told, weary with remorse as he gently untied Lizbeth and the rest, his eyes apologetic towards her.  She said nothing, but agreed to help her former captor with some medical supplies to make a sling for his arm, the resigned fiend helping Glenn in taming the wyverns so that they would all ride them down to the ground.  Lizbeth would handle one and James would accompany her, whilst Glenn and the ogre would ride another.  The rest of the former hostages would ride the other two.
	"James?"
The doctor tenderly looked towards the raptor.
	"Hmm?"
	"I...I know you wanted to save me.  Thank you...but please...don't turn into one of them."
	"One of them?  Who?"
	"...a fiend."