The Oil Stain and the Painting
| The smell of blood and war and death, the sounds of clanging metal and horrific warcries, the sights of battlegrounds and an endless number of souls on each side of the front, these all overwhelmed me but in the same time seemed to me like a speck of dust on a drachorn’s hide in comparison to the pressure I felt gripping my spine, my marrow, my whole as the ancient energy of thousands upon thousands of spells, crafted and cast on the gory field of war pushed my sanity over the edge. After coming to my senses, I could perceive that this was not a vision, or a glimpse from somebody else’s min. I WAS in the past once more as my body was covered with the wounds and scars of that Era. I could re-live memories that I left behind, as the taste of dark, corrupted Principles flooded my being. However, my current state of mind remained and saved me this time around: nothing is dark, nothing is light, this world is made out of shades of twilight. *sighs and stares into the distance* *…* |
| *looks back at the audience with a half embarrassed smile* But I digress… My arrival onto an ancient battlefield and in a time of not so peaceful events was clearly his fault, that much I could tell from the very start. They were there too, defending it with valor. Of course the ones that wished me dead and gone because of my righteous betrayal were there as well. I really can’t blame them for their wretched hatred for me. And I guess they won’t blame me either when I’ll gather the power that will allow me to exile them to a pocket plane the size of an eyeball… a very small eyeball… Ahem! The darkness came at me, blinded by hatred and as they prepared to lay their blows… and then they became blinded by his protective light. |
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