06-21-2024, 01:10 PM
FATED, FAITHFUL, FATAL...
FATED, FAITHFUL, FATAL...
It happened again, hasn't it?
The thought was simple, yet it held more weight than the vampire was expecting, his white porcelain mask snug against his face as he stood atop a stone portcullis, looking down from where he was posed, heterochromatic eyes scanning the area around The Estate he had called his home. At least... it was the closest he could call to a home. Only place he felt welcomed in, a band of mercenaries, correction, Knights, with a higher population of creatures such as himself than many of the other bands that he had encountered.
After everything I had done, I can see why I'm back.
His thoughts were eating him alive, memories of battles from wars long forgotten, from lands he wasn't even sure existed anymore, with people who had existed at one point, unless they had never existed at all here. The plight Project was faced with, it was something he bore. His memories hammered against his mind, begging to be let in at full force, yet he held them at bay, knowing that this life, this cycle, it was different than the last, and the one before that, going on for as long as he could remember.
At least here, I'm no outsider. Here there is money to be made. There is a purpose.
Who knew how many wars, raids, conflicts he had survived. Project certainly lost count, but it mattered little. These groups, these people, they were different than everyone he had known, and he had only heard rumblings, rumors, of the person who lead these merry misfits, these professional soldiers. Someone by the name of Rosencrantz. The wolf knew he must look into them later, but that was to happen in due time.
All in due time.
His plans, the reason the creature was back in this realm of existence, they were all in motion. Yet, despite being the piece in motion, he knew nothing of his purpose, having faith that this too, as with all else, would be revealed in due time.
The thought was simple, yet it held more weight than the vampire was expecting, his white porcelain mask snug against his face as he stood atop a stone portcullis, looking down from where he was posed, heterochromatic eyes scanning the area around The Estate he had called his home. At least... it was the closest he could call to a home. Only place he felt welcomed in, a band of mercenaries, correction, Knights, with a higher population of creatures such as himself than many of the other bands that he had encountered.
After everything I had done, I can see why I'm back.
His thoughts were eating him alive, memories of battles from wars long forgotten, from lands he wasn't even sure existed anymore, with people who had existed at one point, unless they had never existed at all here. The plight Project was faced with, it was something he bore. His memories hammered against his mind, begging to be let in at full force, yet he held them at bay, knowing that this life, this cycle, it was different than the last, and the one before that, going on for as long as he could remember.
At least here, I'm no outsider. Here there is money to be made. There is a purpose.
Who knew how many wars, raids, conflicts he had survived. Project certainly lost count, but it mattered little. These groups, these people, they were different than everyone he had known, and he had only heard rumblings, rumors, of the person who lead these merry misfits, these professional soldiers. Someone by the name of Rosencrantz. The wolf knew he must look into them later, but that was to happen in due time.
All in due time.
His plans, the reason the creature was back in this realm of existence, they were all in motion. Yet, despite being the piece in motion, he knew nothing of his purpose, having faith that this too, as with all else, would be revealed in due time.
code by teef