A Letter Found
Hello my absinthe-sipping friend. Today is a drab day indeed that you have decided to pay me a visit. Woe betide me! What brings you here? Bad news? Or worse news? What tidings from my fancy you bring?
Ah before you open your golden mouth, let me tell you what news I bear! It shakes even the very core of beings such as us. And it portends no good. I see no good coming out of it.
I see Confusion, with his whole bronze-plated armour and his coat of arms, rearing upon me in his wildest horsebeast, looking ever so merciless. And the sword! Ah the sword! Ready to smote my very head and separate my ever lovely body from its celebral organ! How ghastly it is.
These are the very images that I keep seeing everytime my lids closed upon. Confusion. He is everywhere, omnipresent. What am I supposed to do? I am helpless without my kind. The fury has gone. The fire extinguished within, not even mere embers left. I rant. It is meaningless. I know. Yet I have to go on. For the mercy of my senses, for the very well-being of the vessel of my damned soul!
And I see another figure behind the rearing horse, a small cherub it seems. Its ego does not matches its size apparently. For it smirks with evil glee that can only be called demonic. Wherefore does such a cherub come from? Aren't they all supposed to be brimming with goodness? The world has gone wrong.
As always, the cherub swiftly draws out one arrow from out of thin air, and strung it against his short bow. Short and stubby, but mighty. For I have seen many of my kind succumbed to such fatalistic instruments. Only but it need to pierce the very epidermis of your vessel, and you will be damned. It looks at me triumphantly now, as if I am the very fly that is caught in the spider's web. Like a predator looking at its prey.
And it is at this exact moment that I strive to flee. Using the best of my bestowed powers from my Bloodline. I plane-travelled. From the first to the sixth. I shapeshifted. Everything in my arsenal I tossed up at them. I might as well be a little boy trying to push the wall down. They pursued relentlessly. And much to my anger, I was toyed with as well. Whenever I was close to being struck down, for one reason or another, I would be given a chance to flee. And so the Hunt continues. Confusion, with his army of minions, and the fatal cherub darting from tree to tree.
And this is the dream that I have. Without fail, as good as clockwork, it happens everytime I close my eyes. And I don't mean once a day. What malady do I suffer young Amstat of Tevir? Tell me so! Send for me a physician!
Yes I know they can't treat my kind. Nor can they even lay eyes upon me and know that I was ever there. But for such beings of stature, to be reduced to nothing simply upsets every fibre of my being!
Alright, alright, I will heed what you say. I will calm down and react rationally, and I don't even argue the fact that logic does not hold water in this illogical world.
Ah, pardon me for my poor manners. I shall get you a glass of water for the sake that you have travelled such long leagues to see a poor fellow like me.
Ah before you open your golden mouth, let me tell you what news I bear! It shakes even the very core of beings such as us. And it portends no good. I see no good coming out of it.
I see Confusion, with his whole bronze-plated armour and his coat of arms, rearing upon me in his wildest horsebeast, looking ever so merciless. And the sword! Ah the sword! Ready to smote my very head and separate my ever lovely body from its celebral organ! How ghastly it is.
These are the very images that I keep seeing everytime my lids closed upon. Confusion. He is everywhere, omnipresent. What am I supposed to do? I am helpless without my kind. The fury has gone. The fire extinguished within, not even mere embers left. I rant. It is meaningless. I know. Yet I have to go on. For the mercy of my senses, for the very well-being of the vessel of my damned soul!
And I see another figure behind the rearing horse, a small cherub it seems. Its ego does not matches its size apparently. For it smirks with evil glee that can only be called demonic. Wherefore does such a cherub come from? Aren't they all supposed to be brimming with goodness? The world has gone wrong.
As always, the cherub swiftly draws out one arrow from out of thin air, and strung it against his short bow. Short and stubby, but mighty. For I have seen many of my kind succumbed to such fatalistic instruments. Only but it need to pierce the very epidermis of your vessel, and you will be damned. It looks at me triumphantly now, as if I am the very fly that is caught in the spider's web. Like a predator looking at its prey.
And it is at this exact moment that I strive to flee. Using the best of my bestowed powers from my Bloodline. I plane-travelled. From the first to the sixth. I shapeshifted. Everything in my arsenal I tossed up at them. I might as well be a little boy trying to push the wall down. They pursued relentlessly. And much to my anger, I was toyed with as well. Whenever I was close to being struck down, for one reason or another, I would be given a chance to flee. And so the Hunt continues. Confusion, with his army of minions, and the fatal cherub darting from tree to tree.
And this is the dream that I have. Without fail, as good as clockwork, it happens everytime I close my eyes. And I don't mean once a day. What malady do I suffer young Amstat of Tevir? Tell me so! Send for me a physician!
Yes I know they can't treat my kind. Nor can they even lay eyes upon me and know that I was ever there. But for such beings of stature, to be reduced to nothing simply upsets every fibre of my being!
Alright, alright, I will heed what you say. I will calm down and react rationally, and I don't even argue the fact that logic does not hold water in this illogical world.
Ah, pardon me for my poor manners. I shall get you a glass of water for the sake that you have travelled such long leagues to see a poor fellow like me.
Ave Maria :02:04
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