=Don’t make me do something I’m gonna regret.=

Rain spatters and flicks the cement around their feet.

=If this comes down to fighting blows you know I’m gonna give it all I’ve got, so lay it on me now…=

But there was no crack to the masters lips as he turned his steps and relieved his post to the war to the war he would go.

+A thousand years will pass before my hate dies away, a withered thing so full of spite a knows not a moments soft respite. You’re dead, my friend, you’re dead and gone, my son will take his throne. His throne.+

The airship sailed to the western sea and the breeze believed it was bad to see, it was gone, it was gone for the ages.

Lying awake a hero toils, even three years passed he is still a boy, a boy born, a boy born for revenge you see.

Driven by maddening guilt the hermit raised his son, his ranger, his boy to maturity. A blasted mind, wrought like a washboard, dulled by time.

The quest begins anew, a long sought death, to drive the throes of an old mans heart. To avenge those unbeknownst. A son. A man. A monster.

+I will show you.+

^I will kill.^