d’Artagnan always appeared to look the same these days; haggard with a gaze lost somewhere in the abyss. The Basin was increasingly becoming something strange and different, making him uneasy in a home that once made him feel calm and… well… at ease. The concoction of age and grievous loss had landed him in no mans land with little to fight for and much less to gain. He was the cracked statue of a time that was beginning to slip into memory. His sons and daughters were free of their family to roam as they please, with the adventure d’Artagnan had once wanted for himself, a past from many years ago before the loose screw unhinged his sanity. It was odd. Through the grief and loneliness one would think the red would fall deeper into the madness chasm, but instead the shade’s grip on reality became firmer and with it brought more sadness. In the end, the General preferred the cracked world that distorted everything into a perfect view. He’d rather live in his obscure made up world than this woeful reality.

Still, there was little he could do about it and he simply went about his business, trying to find reason and belief under a new title. Although the grumpiness to his face still remained flawlessly untouched. He knew if his misery continued like this then his days would soon be numbered.

He meandered here and there, checking on the statue and the defences, wandering past caves with mournful looks and thinking of his poisons back in his own. Eventually he made his way to the lake to meet with Ashamin, the Basin’s new Haruspex.

d’Artagnan’s overall performance with the God worshipers had been poor to say the least, although he had rather liked Zikar-Sin and his interesting views upon life. It didn’t help either that the red wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in the Time God, deciding his experiences with the Moon was enough God trouble as it was and that wasn’t including his pact with the Earth over poisoning others. Still, the shade hadn’t seen the elderly Earth for that long he wondered if the agreement still stood, even d’Artagnan wasn’t sure if he’d killed the same amount of horses that he’d healed, yet he wasn’t going to remind the dear old turtle.

Aramis jogged along in front until eventually they both found a gathering of interesting characters and the shade was glad to see the two he had called for already there. d’Artagnan nonchalantly made his way into the meeting to stand beside Ashamin, eying the lion tailed male curiously and the interesting mark that burned up his neck. "Ashamin right? Nice outfit" he nodded to the sarong with his rough tones, that surely wasn't really an outfit, forever sounding half bored and the opposite of sincere. "d’Artagnan" he introduced, sharp and simple. His hellion hound fell to the back of the crowd and sat on his haunches, watching.

He recognized all but the purple marked mare, catching her name as Zandora though the chances of him remembering it were as slim as him waking up in a good mood. Caleb, the hybrid, it still made his stomach turn and his nose wrinkle. The disgusting feathers that sprouted so ugly from his sides, but every unipeg he saw these days reminded him of Mesec and the guilt crept up his throat. The Haruspex had already covered the details really, a demonstration of physical ability and mental agility in hopes that they may find something useful in it. "A demonstration would be useful…" he paused, looking to each in turn before continuing "feel free to spar amongst yourselves as well, there’s only so much being a sideliner can teach you."

He cast around, looking for an open space and began edging towards it, motioning Aramis who then jogged into position with him. "Soldiers must win their fights to protect their own, you must also be able to work as a unit, but for now we’ll start with basic one on one" he said, looking to Ashamin to see if he had anything to add before starting.

"In order to win sometimes you have to lose first, the more you lose the more you learn and then, eventually, the winning gets easier" he felt like some glorified hero out of a legend, but hopefully it would suffice. The red didn’t much like explaining and he felt it didn’t really need much explaining. "If it doesn't quit being a soldier, I'm sure there's plenty of places in arts and crafts, wouldn't you agree Rikyn?" he chuckled along to himself, winking at the son of crafting royalty; the lost Lady Illynx and gearhead Ulrik.

The red looked to Ashamin finally and his dainty looking creature curled up in his cloth "anything you're scared of, Haruspex?" he asked oddly and curiously.