Sitting tall in the saddle of the warhorse, it's coat a shade of black that rivals the void of the emptiness of Phury, I coax the stallion to a halt at the edge of the hazy, smoking ruins that mark the border of the wasteland where I reside. Skeletal fingers wrap around worn leather reins, my robes falling around me in tatters.
A wicked smile tugs at the corners of a cruel mouth as I count back the days since my unwilling host has chosen to NOT indulge in his precious escape of red smoke. Over two weeks, of that I'm certain. –
Chuckling darkly, bloodshot and shadowed eyes peer across the landscape. All seems to be in order, the draw of fates has kept my captive audience in a state of denial, self-loathing and on the edge of madness. - Perfect! Just the way I like it, mate! You're doing a brilliant job keeping me in line, if I do say so myself! Bollocksed up and knackered is the key to your success, m'boy! –
Giving a bony 'thumbs-up', I bark out a dry laugh before digging my heels into the steed's sides, picking up an easy trot as I wander the borders of the wasteland. My eyes always sharply on the lookout for the cracks and crevices I'll exploit... when the time comes. –