Hubris of the Hunted

[Auriel_ 652]

[character died and this is a pk, there is blood so yh]

 

 Theoric had no idea how quickly that could’ve happened. The assassin drew their dagger out of his chest, dark, rouge ichor fell from his carapace. And soon after, he faded in life out of this world. No saving grace of the monks; just a healthy, venomous dose of betrayal.

 

 The man opened his eyes, slowly and drowsy. As if ripped from a pleasant dream, he took a few moments to get his bearings, taking in the fresh air of dawn; it was damp and cold, what with the long awaited morning dew coating most everything in crystalline drops; arcanic rock being drenched in the foggy dissolution. His hands were numb- in escaping pain, as were his feet, and his neck was wroth with rot and ichor of aengul blessed. Slumped against cold stone, a chill ran through the humans body, his breath steaming in the cold sunrise. Sitting up, he rubbed his gloved hands together and looked around, sighting a statue wrought of marble, it stood on a cobblestone floor, slick with moisture and overgrown with weeds, vegetation seems to be an affront to the natures of the realm at which he inhabits. A gloomy light seems to emanate from the end of the Old Road.

 

 All around him, grand buildings of pale stone rose high and proud, their sharp features thrusting up to the sky with their spires, ripping into the clouds. A bell chimed, well off in the distance, it echoed across the Escape. As the message was repeated the hunter struggled to his feet, fighting back the encroaching laughter that built up in his throat, yet allowing himself a thin smile beneath his mask. Not unlike a proud father, the wounded and newly dead man walked his first steps into the first day of the new world, savoring each moment of such a hard, earned peace. Tears began to well up behind his eyes as he approached the gates of the afterlife; the tears of ecstasy. His boots picked up pace as he felt weightless. As crystalline pallor lines the gates to the Afterlife, so too did it’s gloomy rememberance. He was home.

 

Theoric Reyne, died as he lived.

A cruel joke.

 

Only monsters would lay here.

 

[PK]

 

 

 

 

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.