Journals of a Psychopath

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The Woodlander Warriors and the Darkest-One

Plunging onto my knees, experiencing admiration, shifting from side to side, the hardhearted is the bounty. Lifting my arms, a sense concerning glory filled my body. Elevating my skull the inner scream reached my power of speech. Beads of sweat dotted my brow, exhilaration and angst beset. The Trees extended to full capacity, the snow collapsed from the branches. Examining the white-flakes floating to the ground, relating to small white tears, I applauded.
Shambling to me, the Archangel elevated his bony hands and the skin stretched taut across them, I could see purple bulbous veins. Indicating with his sharp talons and the Darkest-One grimaced.

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