01-27-2008, 11:18 AM
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indent Even though his head was amiss with his own problems, and even though he was dancing ever closer with the familiar grip of addiction, no outward sign would show that Ahren de le Poer had such problems. True, he wore some of his past on his sleeve (literally, considering his scars), but few of the living left in this savage land could remember that far back. Chimera had been isolationist, far before Clouded Tears had gone to war with Inferni. Still, he did not and could not live in the past.
indent The wahrer had been making his way back into the territory, having traveled south to hunt. The crossbow on his back spoke of that more-so then the faint scent of blood around him. What alerted him to the stranger was the cigarette smoke. Moving quietly over the snow, the red-eyed male soon came across a young man who could have been his younger self (if not for the fact Ahren destroyed and rebuilt himself so often). “Do you need something?”
indent The wahrer had been making his way back into the territory, having traveled south to hunt. The crossbow on his back spoke of that more-so then the faint scent of blood around him. What alerted him to the stranger was the cigarette smoke. Moving quietly over the snow, the red-eyed male soon came across a young man who could have been his younger self (if not for the fact Ahren destroyed and rebuilt himself so often). “Do you need something?”