[ AW ] Destiny Unfulfilled

A pair of glowing embers flashed in the darkness of the ruins, and slowly, the shadows began to morph and split into a monstrous creature that emerged from one hollowed archway. It was as if they had birthed a demon, and as moonlight revealed its form, the gods must have recoiled at the sight of having such a being walk across their fertile soil, for the Underworld would have suited him far better. Evergreen boughs scraped across flesh marred and ravaged by Mordhau himself, and as the darkness peeled away from his flesh, so did the illusion of beauty.

The beast began his ascent up the crumbling staircase of what must have been a once majestic castle. Now nature was its lawless king, and Lazarus was a mere shadow of a former ruler, one fallen from grace and dragged to the land of the living to begin a new conquest, to seed a darkness that would end the forest’s peaceful reign.

His father had once commanded a castle like this. As a pup, Lazarus had raced along the ramparts and pretended to fend off imaginary invaders. Sometimes he would even sit atop its throne and envision himself as an emperor about to send his soldiers off to war. But as he grew, so did his loathing for it, and when he caught sight of its throne he drew a scowl, for it belonged to his father. Every inch of the place was vile, tainted by Talos’ cruel touch. He learned that being someone’s soldier was not an honour but a curse, and he learned that that throne he was to inherit was not forged of blood and bravery but of cowardice and wine. The castle walls were never meant to keep invaders out, but the whimpers of a suffering boy in.

When Lazarus reached the top of the rampart, he stepped to its edge and tilted his head back to the starry sky, now visible above the dense boughs of the evergreens. Someday, when the time was right, Lazarus’ throne would be forged from purpose and will, and his reign would cleanse the wilds of its impure rule just as the fire had done to him.

Ghosts of flame stung his ravaged hide at the memory, and Lazarus embraced it, enjoying the way it felt so exposed to the cool night air. As he closed his eyes, he began to hum a tune he’d heard one of the bards from the Nashoba sing. She had sang it as a pretty lullaby, but the grating notes of Lazarus’ throat turned it into a sinister, haunting melody that drifted slowly and ominously through the night, broken occasionally by a hoarse cough that would spring from damaged — no, purified lungs.

Someday, he would hum the tune as he marched his own army into battle, into a new and better world.

He had made a mistake...

Sage paused, the woven pouch he wore around his neck bouncing gently against his chest. Cerulean eyes observed the darkening landscape around him and sighed, hanging his head in annoyance. He had not meant to stray so far from his home in Aberdeen. but yet here he was. The male had wandered further and further in his mission for new herbs that he could plant in his small garden and now found himself in a place he didn't recognize.

The ruins of a castle stood silhouetted against the night sky a little ahead of him and he made the decision to head towards it. He figured it would offer shelter at the very least, and he may get lucky finding some herbs growing in the cracks of the crumbling structure. What he didn't expect to find was a figure that disappeared into the inky black of the night, his fiery red eyes the only indication that he stood atop the ramparts.

As he closed the distance, he became aware that the male was humming a haunting tune, broken only by the hacking cough that wracked the shadow. Sage approached slowly, allowing his paws to drag on the stone below so as to make noise and not startle the man. Sage sat two body lengths from the man and waited patiently for the tune to end before announcing his presence with a few words. "That was a lovely tune. Who taught it to you?" The ashen male asked in a low voice.

@Lazarus