[His voice, smooth as always, breaks in mid-sentence. There's a certain jovial quality to it, as if he's enjoying himself. As he speaks, the soft sound of creasing paper mingles with the crunch of snow underfoot.]--oor William ( Read more... )

Strange how one such as I can know that this land is not my own. How there is a palpable, breathing life to Nosgoth--however much it has wasted and fallen into decay--that is simply not present in this place. I have seen Nosgoth in all her innocence as I have seen her in the last tattered throes of her decay. Even the Meridian of the Hylden had not ( Read more... )