Pride's Herald

Sitting on the dragon's back at the base of its neck, Pride's sword laying across his lap, Hatch stared impassively at the fallen avatar.

"You look like shit." He observed, tapping one finger rapidly on his knee. When he got no response from Pride he continued with "I thought there were rules to your depraved little game. If Time could attack the both of us why do you need a Champion? How do you win when every avatar can just try to murder me? None of this makes any sense."

The assassin looked at Pride again, but she seemed too out of it to reply. He hadn't really expected an answer anyway--not one that wasn't cryptic and vague, at least. "I guess it's not my job to understand." he sighed, "Just point me at whoever you need me to kill and I'll do the rest. Monsters, demi-gods, Champions... I don't care who it is, it makes no difference." Hatch looked down at the landscape passing below, noting huge expanses of forests and seemingly endless hills and plains; he couldn't see signs of civilization anywhere.

God damn he needed a cigarette.