Ornstein was kneeling before an torn portrait as the dim sunlight barely illuminated his surroundings. He was quiet, not moving an inch as he held onto his spear; lost to a world of old memories. However, the footsteps of a stranger brought him to reality and he slowly rose to his feet, brandishing his spear. "Wherefore has't thee cometh?" His voice was deep, yet it held a sense of elegance.