He stands at the beginning of time, weak, shuddering from the cold. He climbs the hills, the trees, bridges the streams, hides in the hollows of mountains. He is no better than an animal.
He hungers at the edge of the world, howling with desire. He hunts the animal, the strong, studies the enemy, butchers his meat, takes what he wants. He is no better than a beast.
He drives at his lost comrades, weeping with loss. He thirsts for revenge, pursues the enemy, slays that which is evil, takes the villains lives. He is no better than a fighter.
He pushes for understanding, dreams with tomorrow. He topples walls, testaments, overcomes adversity, challenges the views of the past. He is no better than a monk.
He strives to push forward, shaking with the rigors of age. He extols the virtue of memory, of hope, regrets his losses, changes nothing, hopes for everyone. He is no better than the old.
He stands at the edge of the veil, stronger, writhing with the strength of nature. He drives the oceans, the winds, heaves the earth, warms the waters. He is no better than a Drake.
The Drake, with all his power, looks to the sky in anticipation. He hungers for that which is beyond him, the years, beyond the next veil, obstacle, or prejudice. He looks to the sky, and speaks to the spirit of all who follow in his footsteps.
The stronger you get, the farther you need to go.















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