-=The scout found him within his hall, he stay strewn across twin stools with his back to the far wall. His eyes continued to study the parchment he found only a day ago.. His other hand carressed his bearded chin as he contemplated the meaning..Lifting his eyes, his boots met the floor as he rose.. The scout knew not to kneel, or adorn him with pleasentries, merely speaking freely he addressed the assassin=-
Scout: "I have scowered the forests as requested... No new encampments were found. Nor any word from the Druid Circle which inhabits theses wood... It seems as if she has vanished Ghaleon.. "
Ghaleon: -=slipping the paper beneath his belt and leather britches he sighed.. As a dark lock befell his features he huffed and nodded=- "You are dismissed then m'good man.. Thank yae.."
-=The scout left as quick as he entered.. The assassin merely paced.. Thoughs came past his mind.. Of a time he once fought to forget. Munroe taught him to be not what he was. To forge anew.. Still, with returning to his past he failed her.. It is an impossible thing to escape he believed.. Still, to solve this riddle he must think back, return to a time when another ruled this timeless form.. All their faces befell him once more.. Tistif, Parrasol, Santhus, Verco, and finally Valas.. She was enchanting to the eye, even in her youth. She was small, delicate. Christ, his form at times loomed over hers.. A faint smirk played on his lips for a moment. As thoughts of him and her played to mind.. A time of innocents, which was shattered as was a dark jewel which held all their fates.. Shaking his head he sighed faintly.. What was her place with these words.. Why had she returned.. She believed the master to be dead, he never took anything for granted. Especially with her return.. He knew with her about, Maddox couldn't be to far off.. Lost within the shadows.. Watching the last of his two creations interact.. Saddistically torturing both.. Snickering he rose with one flourished movement.. Kicking a chair aside he took forth his blade and armor alike.. The hunt was one.. Quickly he dressed, taking all that would carry him light... Fastening the last buckle on his leather jerkin he cast his eyes about. Four daggers aligned his ribcage, a small scabbard for what seemed a dagger rested upon his waist.. Two more daggers sat hidden within his boots. With a small backpack and pouches upon his belt he set out. His cloak set behind him, it blew and wrapped around his figure as he stepped from the hall into the darkness of night.. His child was safe in the hands of another.. It was time to face his past alone.. once more=-
