The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him
but because he loves what is behind him.
Life was infinitely easier hidden in the mountains.
He understood now why his panther father rarely wandered down and mingled with the others. Their lives were trivial, tainted with all things mortal and messy. Had it not been for the persistent nag of his one true mistress, he would have stayed on those out crops forever. But he couldn’t ignore her call, not when she had given so much to him. She was the only one who had never hurt him, or at least, not his heart. The Chamber had left that part of him relatively untouched. Others though…they had soured him on the notion of love. It was like bile to him now, hot and foul in the back of his throat. Time and time again he has had it in his grasp…time and time again he has lost it. Never one to beat his head against the brick wall, he had more than decided that enough was enough. For now, his heart would belong only to himself.
The muscle aches feel like home to him. He finds an odd comfort in the stiffness, a certain solace in the new scars. They show that he has lived his life for home and for kingdom. On his chest, the mark of his loyalty; a glowing infinity symbol. But deeper than the pain (and it is bone deep), is another ache. An ache on his heart, the kind that constricts his chest and his breaths with an iron-clad grip. The old warrior had all but sworn her off since coming down from the mountain, but then, he’d had the battle to distract him. Now her scent plagued him like a poison. It was everywhere, all-consuming his senses. But even more than that, was the scent of another. It mingled with hers in a way that made his nostrils curl in disgust. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about the bay stallion that made him angry, but there was something. Like a cat with its fur being stroked backwards. And who should he see, as he ventured slowly across the Chamber, but the offensive odor himself. Let it be known that Warship did not respond to the bay’s call; he was not a dog to be commanded at wish. Warship smirked, his eyes noting the scars now littering the bay’s gangly body. “Well well…look who got off the teat long enough to go for a battle. Well done.” His words were laced with venom, but his demeanor was calm. “You seem to have something eating at you, Nymphetamine. Please, do not hold back on my account.” he said. But then, cocking his head, let loose another spill of toxic words. “Or, you’ve stuck your nose in a pile of shit and that is the reason your face is screwed up in such a horrible fashion.” It had been a long time since Warship had been given an opportunity to vent his spleen, and the fact that the necromancer sought him out specifically made him the perfect target for an old stallions hateful tongue lashing.
warship
atrox x kill me well
lord of the chamber