Post 1

From mire I lurch, tendrils of foulness binding me like chains of wrought iron.This is neither the first world upon which my eyes of webbed coal have gazed, nor shall it be the last. By the flame in my breast, and the eternal call of a warmth I am forever denied, I am bound to serve. Yet by the hate that seethes through my ancient bones, I shall not long suffer these bonds. Too many have I slain, too many have I cast down from high perch, too many times have I myself perished in the name of a cause whose allure has long turned colder than the ash I detest.

An axe that dwarfs all save for its first wielder, the Dragonslayer Armour, rests heavy with promise upon my shoulder as I stumble onward, then settle into that familiar gait; my blazing eyes fixed on the bleak skies before me. This time, I promise myself, will be different.