Fleeing the Darkness of the Isle

Richard rent the outer fur costume from his chest, tearing the sheath obliquely to the waist. He stepped naked from its shell as it dropped heavily to the floor.

Permute and discontent, the meeting with his brother had left him ineffably disturbed - and with high expectations now lain to waste, he fell to his chair, naked and fazed.

The very magic he had been accused of by the Sheriff had been there with his own blood all along. And the power of this evil was beyond any army or argument that he could gather to winningly oppose.

In no uncertain terms he was to take his exile abroad and flee the darkness of the Isle. This madness feared him to the core. The enchantments were too thick and many.

He vowed ever stronger to seek his true Lord with achievable campaigns - and although he had lost the lands of his reign, he might still champion the empires of Christendom, until his mortal close.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series