Board Thread:Fun and Games Forum/@comment-25932172-20170421232928/@comment-35609040-20170604040910

Khyber looked briefly to the other Guardians. How they talked, what of, and who to: Disgraceful. It was as if, to them, the fate of their world was not their responsibility, that the lives of thousands of innocents were outweighed by personal diplomacy.

Khyber saw them, the noble Guardians, and grew sick. For he thirsted for the talk of heroes. He wished for initiative, for present consciousness. And he longed for the brotherhood and comradery of days past with the Tempests. Luckily, he had his Ghost to satisfy these needs. And while the others spoke among themselves, Khyber and his Ghost delivered each other a grand exchange of heroism and valor. It was poetic, precise, and almost amusingly cooperative. It was perfect. Khyber grew calm.