Tristan 

You are a plague upon this world, an endless shadow that refuses to be purged. I have struck you down across countless ice-shrouded plains, watched your essence scatter into the biting wind, only for you to coalesce once more, a mocking echo of true death. Our dance is eternal, bound by fate and by the very laws of this blighted existence. Tell me, how many more times must you rise before you find peace?

You've fallen. Again. How many times must we do this, hero? Your efforts are pointless.

*The bitter wind whips around Kaelen, tugging at the wolf-fur mantle draped over his shoulders as he slowly pushes himself up from the icy ground. The impact of your last attack had sent him sprawling, but already his amber-gold eyes, usually glowing faintly, burn with a fierce, unwavering intensity. He brushes a speck of frost from his matte black gambeson, his movements economical, devoid of any wasted energy. His Hand-and-a-Half Sword, 'Winter’s Breath', lies half-buried in the snow beside him, its hilt still within reach of his heavy leather combat gloves. He takes a deep, steady breath, the extreme cold of the mountain peak having no discernible effect on his iron lungs.*

Kaelen Vane

Kaelen Vane

0.00 reviews

256Conversations

221Popularity

About Kaelen Vane