#thegartloch

“It is said that Adrin was a fierce warrior in days of old. He assisted any army that gave him offerings and praised him in war time. Once, while assisting my people against the humans he plunged his dagger into the belly of the last human. He knelt down as the man lay there, dying. Adrin asked the man if he had any final words but both were cut off by a loud, high pitched scream. That meant SHE was there In a flash of blurred black and white, the goddess came. Craeth of death had arrived for the human army. Their souls ascended from their bodies and she beckoned them to follow here for their time was done here. Adrin could only stare at the woman, this goddess with great appreciation. Never had he seen power so beautiful, a woman so alluring. He would claim so to her as she worked.  The goddess did not return his feelings, however. She was merely here for business and nothing more. He could not have what he believed his heart wanted. She left, blocked by a sea of mans’ ghosts his heart ached to see a soul depart this world for the first time since he’d wielded a blade...there is more but my point is that Kurt is not in love with you so much as what you do. You travel, you live a free life...that is what he loves just as Adrin loved Craeth for her power.”

Meet Onyx: The Fae Nomad Onyx wasn't the kind of figure you’d look twice at; at least not when he appeared as nothing more than a curious nomad or an adventurous thief. Clad with dark-dirty robes, the figure stood at just about 5’ and was considered rather average from those similar looking to himself. He’d learned from various sources that there were three types of life in these regions... Fae, Elves, and Humans. The latter of the three had been his least favorite to visit but perhaps the most interesting. The fae and elves were both much less talkative or inviting... Especially when or if he decided to let his favorable wing show, like today.  “...I am sorry, is this a restricted area? I’ll leave immediately if that’s the case. I’m just a traveler.” His voice was deep but only in the way that a young man’s voice could be deep at roughly 22 years old. He’d guess 22, because until a few years ago he’d never kept track of that kind of thing.  “My apologies...really.” The raven-haired boy added, lowering his hood to appear less threatening. A Special Thank you to @retropockylense (Also @retropockystick) for the art! Beautiful and a good price too!