Role

Chapter 10

continent. Yet before the writhing woodlands to the far east looms a
festering palace of pyrite, a procession of men clad in gaudy blacks
and golds in constant motion swarm from the bowels of its recesses.

What is worse than a man who kills and rapes purely of his own nature?
The man who understands his own nature, and embraces it wantonly,
eschewing any frivolous meandering of his own soul in order to attain
power by any means. Like a sentient plague infecting all it crosses
not by it's nature, but by it's volition.

That's what I infer at least. Oh, but that's all the time I have for
today, he's calling on me again for some scribework. The paperwork
has been piling up recently.

Revarios of Darsylon