Unfold

A captive he met in a town, not too long ago, memories buzz in and out as Hal became more and more drowsy when the sunlight beamed upon his eyes, footsteps becoming more heavy with the summoning of the dead he made, he felt weary, almost lifeless when the incantations came back, spells he learned during the academy, his mind began to contort, vision became dark and he found the blood stored in the bottle, he had always

Do not try to best me, Pug warns Val, Pug, small little Pug for as you know Goblins are quite tiny compared to human folks but for Val had already drawn his sword, his quest to fight those who had caused so much grief ... ... and yet when he hesitated when Pug resisted not, did not even make any attempt to run or cover up his wrong doings, he was very much

(Pedro): Don't take things too seriously, it is always said and heard and I found myself wandering in places unknown, and it was quite splendid really for I've encountered few travelers here and the road, the plants and trees seem to gather tightly around me, whispering secrets of buried bones filled with gems. And of course everyone knows the dead need no gold, the flies they buzz around all day and the bats come screeching at night but I find it comforting, to know

Fine lines, between lines, rouge and saint they saw in each other another side of what could be, of a life that could be had and it was only too clear that Lucy felt underdressed for Sharon was as usual able to come up with gimmicks, for she saw the lines in between that did not end with periods. You're too naive Sharon told Lucy and Lucy felt the stirrings of wants, of desires she thought had long gone. Was it wrong to want more? As for deeds, meritocracy and works, it was quite clear what the real game was for life was coated with words, words that held little meaning when they could mean so many things, words that could fall apart when a power triumphs over ideals. Ideals, what a childish want! And yet many things were worth sacrificing and Lucy did not feel regret. For she had lived her life well, as well as she knew how to.

Take more, I told the stranger on the street and he happily took it, more, they all take more even when I am burdened greatly and when I ask if they want more, they see my burden and say yes, yes, it is always more for them, less for me and I am quite weary, the dark road beckons and I find it comforting, the moss and decay, like me, crying out, nothing to wonder about and I can feel coldness seeping into my body, bones,

Of dismal spirits I have been with, dark recesses in my mind that spook me even in the day, I try to forget and cannot and thus each day I find myself distracting me with anything that is not unplesant, for of suffering, I have had enough!

They meet in a town and one suddenly found conversation easy for Pedro was like a best friend he had dearly missed and Val begins to tell his story of a lost mission but his life was better that way for now he was enjoying the blissful life of a man who has everything, of companionship, luxury and fun. So much fun he says to Pedro except that sometimes in the night, he finds himself in crying spells and he believes it is PTSD from the horrors

I call on wild spirits, on lonely ones forgotten but I remember! I remember the times when you were exalted, and now dead, they have spat on your gravestone. I remember though I will ask that a reward be given for one who has made the journey, the sacrifice in finding your loneliness, your ask, your desire to be cherished. I cherish and give me what I want. I ask little only that I become great in this life, to smite my enemies, a tooth for a tooth, nay I say. I will destroy them completely. Help me. Now.

I have walked for years, decades, time seems to lose meaning and the corpse are in my dreams, in my hallucinations, I can hear and see them, hallucinations because that is what the common folk like to call it. I place too much faith in the folklore, in the myths, in the fables when the dark arts is simply a name. A name is not something to be feared, to be damned. I will give them life once again. And Hal goes to the fortress when the flames once burned. Specters appears, wisp, smoke, fog and then they materialize from other planes, those who were gone no longer ... ...

I seem to recall a man bent on hunting down those who set flames to the fortress, to right the wrongs done and each time I try to bring back those feelings, they seem to have faded. And I have a frozen mind, a mind that knows this is not what should be, how happy and carefree my days and alas I am not actually joyful and my happiness is fleeting and dissipates like the night, cold wet and shivering I am inside thought I cannot explain why. Have I not adapted?