User blog comment:SCORNFUL1/Audience With A Vampire: Ask Armata De'Sange/@comment-27550231-20180105044553/@comment-27550231-20180106053349

Jorge was not fond of hiding in his room. He felt as if he was a prisoner of Armata forced to stay in this room as one would a disobedient child. A minute after Layoka had left he made his way to the armor piled in the corner. It had been some time since he had worn it and despite his best efforts to clean, it remained dusty.

Jorge ran a his thumb over a sugnificant dent over the left brow and tried his best to remember what had caused him such a grevious wound.

"What was it that hit me here..." He tried to think back to a time when his armor was immaculate but he caould not recall any set memories. Every battle every kill all blended together into one never ending day of war. There he stood over the mountain of enemies constantly shifting constantly charging and yet he could not remember.

"Must have been a powerful strike..."

He puts his helmet back before realising that he did not have his signature sword. In his rush for vengeance he had forgotten it... Dropped it in his room back home.

"I swore never to go back... But maybe. It's worth saying goodbye."