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10-13-2012, 02:41 PM
It is a Man's own Mind not his enemy, nor his foe, that lures him to evil ways Ambrosius wondered what it was that anchored him to these lands. They no longer existed as his home, no longer gravitated his presence, and yet he found himself unready to abandon them just yet. The shadow beast had been dormant when his herd had needed him most, and guilt had settled in his gut to the extent that he had grown angry with himself. Had these lands every really been home? Had they ever been more than a mere place of residence? Truthfully, no, but he had still pledged his allegiance to protecting it from outside threats, to defending her borders, and he had not withheld that proclamation. He moved like a wraith through the enveloping haze, his dark silhouette shrouded behind a thick veil of fog. Soulless eyes stared stoically ahead of him, each movement laced with brusk finesse, each muscle pulled taut with deliberation. Were he to be seen by a member of the Qian, he would likely be persecuted, but it mattered little to him. Perhaps he was looking for a fight, a channel in which to convalesce his penance. He hated it. It made him feel weak, vulnerable. He stood atop the terrestrial boundary of the World's Edge, peering down toward the thrashing waters many feet below. Waves crashed violently against the rock face, and the beast waited, silent, inwardly anticipant, though for what, he was not certain. unless they kill in large numbers
and to the sound of trumpets
AMBROSIUS
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table by phantom
