At The Cloud Temple Gate

[The Zealot (Sir_Wyvernos) 248]

A man sits upon a tall fine chair atop the cloud temple gate. He seems to be a middle aged man wearing finely tailored clothing himself. He is covered in what appears to be dust or ash. He slouches lazily in the tall chair with his head resting against the chairs back and his hand over his mouth. He peers out over the temple and begins to speak.

 

"Forlorn..seven sworn by blood of the mortal men. Kin to final few of which it shall begin... Sealed debts to be paid and lives to be weighed..both full and the wanting.. Come one..come all.. the times have yet to begin.."

 

He glares out over the gate and slowly rises from his chair, planting both his hands firmly on the edge and looking at the lands. "I love a masterpiece..."

 

He leans back folding his arms and looking out.