The Valen Wilds were in spring's first full bloom, and the outskirts of Astenvale were no exception. The gentle humming of insects mingled with the calling of birds and the rustling of small creatures passing through the underbrush, the sounds and song of a forest come alive echoing off the scattered trees and dilapidated stonework. Countless scents and smells hung heavy in the air: a refreshing whiff of mint complemented the sharp tang of glisterweed, which in turn mellowed the sweetly cloying odors of wild iris and fennel to present the passerby with a veritable bouquet of olfactory delights. And the colors! The gentle dappled emerald of the piecemeal canopy of leaves and needles was broken by soft rays of golden light, filtering down to the weeds and wildflowers that festooned the bases of the tangled roots and scattered structures below.
All this went unheeded by the grim figure that stepped between the trees, silent but for the soft crunching of a pair of bladed sabatons piercing the undeserving earth below. Or at least, it seemed that way; hidden behind soft black leather and silver-lined dusksteel as they were, the lone knight could have been marveling at their surroundings at every unhurried step they took down the disused path that wound amidst the greenery, and any observer would have been none the wiser.
Amalgam was not marveling at any such thing, of course. The Pursuant had ceased to care for such things decades ago.
The knight continued on their way, neither fast nor slow, making for the remains of an old watchtower. Though overgrown and crumbling, almost entirely bereft of its upper floors, the old tower still held its head stubbornly above the tree line, in large part thanks to the support of the weary old oak around which the structure had been built so many years ago. Reaching their destination, Amalgam stepped in through the long-empty doorframe, before coming to a halt and slowly turning to face the regal figure that awaited them, standing off to one side and half-shaded by the remnants of the floors above.
"You wished to see me, Captain."
The question—if it could even be called a question—was posed without greeting or ceremony. Amalgam's monotonic voice was oddly flat, utterly devoid of emotion or inflection; it might as well have been the armor rather than the Pursuant themself that spoke.
Selene
All this went unheeded by the grim figure that stepped between the trees, silent but for the soft crunching of a pair of bladed sabatons piercing the undeserving earth below. Or at least, it seemed that way; hidden behind soft black leather and silver-lined dusksteel as they were, the lone knight could have been marveling at their surroundings at every unhurried step they took down the disused path that wound amidst the greenery, and any observer would have been none the wiser.
Amalgam was not marveling at any such thing, of course. The Pursuant had ceased to care for such things decades ago.
The knight continued on their way, neither fast nor slow, making for the remains of an old watchtower. Though overgrown and crumbling, almost entirely bereft of its upper floors, the old tower still held its head stubbornly above the tree line, in large part thanks to the support of the weary old oak around which the structure had been built so many years ago. Reaching their destination, Amalgam stepped in through the long-empty doorframe, before coming to a halt and slowly turning to face the regal figure that awaited them, standing off to one side and half-shaded by the remnants of the floors above.
"You wished to see me, Captain."
The question—if it could even be called a question—was posed without greeting or ceremony. Amalgam's monotonic voice was oddly flat, utterly devoid of emotion or inflection; it might as well have been the armor rather than the Pursuant themself that spoke.
Selene
