The Speaker sat in the gloom of the Deep, Raids had been perpetrated upon his realm, thieves had stolen artifacts from it's wretched writhing shores, to gain power for their own narrow minded and miniscule wills... The Beautiful sorrow was forgotten. The tragic melancholy; divine and exquisite had become sullied. His Dark realm had shrunk and now... now he felt a presence he had not felt since... He stood from his cracking throne, his rage building like the Deepflame in his breast. "you..." he drew the words from his lips like poison. entering the hall the knightly form Bopsheezi Tenebrae stood, his eyes calm... his countenance sad. "Yours was the most exotic of pains that I drew from the world..." "Speaker, it is not too late... you can return from this darkness, you can live again..." The Speaker cackled with an insane burst of levity... "Knight... you you know nothing of darkness, you but scratched the surface of its grip... it's might!" "You are a fool." the pitied eyes of Bopsheezi, beheld the speaker as he beheld all the fallen; with compassion and and tragedy. "You could have returned to us... and now it all lies in ruins." He drew his sword from its sheath "Please... come back to us." The Speaker stood with his back to him now, "Would that the High Gods of Deep and the Desparate would allow it. You still don't understand the part you play do you?" Bopsheezi listened carefully and his ear flicked with muted frustration. "...We are complicit. Two sides of a coin impossible to comprehend one another... for we face away from the truth of either pole unable to understand, to consider..." "What are you talking about?" "the rebalancing, is now..." Speaker drew his Razor from the air, and turned... "there is no more time for words" "Then let us end this, at last..." Bopsheezi raised his Blade adopting a defensive stance... "And you call me the fool..." The Speaker leapt and attacked...