Dripping Daggers

@Keith


Slade had adored this place, feeling the omnipresent stares of non existing creatures, the gut bound feel of dread just from stepping so close to the shadowed lands..it was amazing. This made the ebony sheathed king proud to be one with such an inhabitanting pack. Surely, their land choice was a reflection of who they represented, was it not?

His thoughts drifted back to the beautiful woman who pick the shadow entrenched forest. Meldresi. Her name spoke of volumes, and Slade let them buffet his mind. It was elaborate on the tongue, a haunting melody that sang of arcane arts. Something he knew, all too well.

Sitting in the thorny brambles of a dying rose bush, the man welcomed the feel of the sharp pricks of thorns attempting to pierce his flesh, but never the less failing, for his midnight furred armor reigned too thick for little things like that. With fire blazing irises, he slowly admired a baby ferret being harassed by a crow, the scavenger pecking constantly at the weak little babe's head, until its whimpering sqeaks were silenced, adding to the natural omniscient feel of the entrancing forest.