05-25-2015, 04:03 AM
Galel sat against the door of his room, third eye scanning the hallway in both directions while his mortal eyes were glued to the book he held gently in his massive hands. The War Against Diablo: Part III, Closure of the Black Gate. He read, absorbing the information on the page. After a few moment, he gently flicked the paper, moving on to the next page. This continued for nearly an hour, during which time several contestants stopped and asked what he was reading. His answer each time was the same, "Fate." When asked what the hell he meant by that, he was silent.
Soon enough, he closed his book, satisfied with the information he had acquired. Placing the book against his thigh, he grabbed some leather straps that dangled from a chain attached to his armour. Wrapping the straps around the book, he ensured that he would always have it with him. Checking to ensure the book was secure, Galel nodded and stood. Glancing down the hall, he turned and entered the room he had been assigned. Sitting on the bed, Galel pulled the duffel bag of supplies before him, opening it up and checking its contents. No vox caster, nor any power supplies. He frowned, closing the bag and placing it next to his bed.
His survival skills were rusty, that was for sure. It had been centuries since he had been stranded with no supplies, forced to live off the land while he figured a way off the rock his enemies had forced him to land on. Galel smirked, lying back in the bed and remembering his home. A galaxy of unremitting war and bloodshed, a thousand thousand warbands dedicated to the destruction of the Corpse-Emperor's Imperium. A universe where only the strong thrived in a billion societies built upon the suffering of trillions of souls. It was a good universe, one where he had learned the hardest lessons. Never trust. Galel thought, The most important of those lessons.
Soon enough, he closed his book, satisfied with the information he had acquired. Placing the book against his thigh, he grabbed some leather straps that dangled from a chain attached to his armour. Wrapping the straps around the book, he ensured that he would always have it with him. Checking to ensure the book was secure, Galel nodded and stood. Glancing down the hall, he turned and entered the room he had been assigned. Sitting on the bed, Galel pulled the duffel bag of supplies before him, opening it up and checking its contents. No vox caster, nor any power supplies. He frowned, closing the bag and placing it next to his bed.
His survival skills were rusty, that was for sure. It had been centuries since he had been stranded with no supplies, forced to live off the land while he figured a way off the rock his enemies had forced him to land on. Galel smirked, lying back in the bed and remembering his home. A galaxy of unremitting war and bloodshed, a thousand thousand warbands dedicated to the destruction of the Corpse-Emperor's Imperium. A universe where only the strong thrived in a billion societies built upon the suffering of trillions of souls. It was a good universe, one where he had learned the hardest lessons. Never trust. Galel thought, The most important of those lessons.