𝓐 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓣𝓪𝓼𝓴

[Damnit_Delmar 1086]

The Events Depicted are not common knowledge.

Spoiler

 

𝓐 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓣𝓪𝓼𝓴

The priest had been wandering those hazed woods, for many a night had he not seen rest, a part of his blessing from the Angel. To roam the woods and lands, free as a wolf who shepherded the fearful sheep, he had been haunting those roads. Perhaps waiting for someone, or something, such was a mystery upon his muddled mind. However it was upon that travel, did he begin to hear it, the toll of bells. A constant hum and ring that refused to lessen, bearing directions from the west, east, south, and north. It called as one would whistle for a dog, goading him into the woods, to search further and deeper. To take call of his destiny perhaps, for as he ventured further into the woods. So did those trees began to warp and shift, their brown bark blackening, their green leaves quickly falling. Replacing into long arms of a warped and charred wood. Black ash, soon began to fill his lungs, as his feet sunk further into the mud and muck. 

 

His gaze began to linger further into the landscape, wrought on by the blessing, the truth! For in the distance, did he see it, the long dark towers that rose from the ground like obsidian obelisks. How grand they where, how ruinous, a true depiction of the end wrought from truth of his prayer. In the distance, enwreathed in flames, was there a brilliant mote of light. A tree, akin to the Ashwoods of the north, enwreathed in brilliant hues of orange and red. Like a Moth to flame, did the man begin to make his way forward. Fear clung to his soul, yet more importantly, did his zealousness trump that emotion. For he was in the domain of the dark, the shadow. He was granted a sight of the days to come, and so with every fiber of his being, would he force himself to draw nearer. 

"All converges into one. One, converges into all. Time fades, time intertwines. The flesh of wood, the flesh of man, the flesh of lion. To grant my vessel"

"Devoted. Defying of the Deific. Break the Chains. Grant my Vessel" 

The words came from the ground, the earth, the tree. Like a choir, it rang through his psyche like an ever persistent hymn. Feelings long since held, returning, as he remembered his first encounter with the choir. So, did he stare at the tree, frantic words exited from his scarred maw. 

"Who are you?" 
The thing of yore almost seemed to twist and bend towards the man, the priest, the Blackfinger! In its many bodied tone, did it answer that question, with a truth. A testament to its being and holiness. 

"I am the first, I am the last. The eternal flame is snuffed when I have burnt to ash."

The mans eyes, those of a gray hue currently, bore witness to what he had only though to see in visions. 

"The Eldar Flame?"

Its silence spoke volumes, before that choir grew in volume. Spreading its faith, its truth and goal, to the man in front of it. 

"To show the dreams of the eternal mass, one shall grant my vessel. To rebirth beyond the memories of the world. To birth upon the flesh of the descendants, to grant clarity, to grant timelessness. To grant, all."

"Devote to the breaking of chains, and all shall be revealed."

Then did it give one last sermon, one last gospel for the prophet of the tower to bask in. Though as it did, a gnarled branch would extend forth, in doing so would it drop. Creating his crook, his guide in a sense, for the flock. 

"The Husk of the Aspects. To meld at my place of rebirth. To then fuse a lion into the flesh of my tree, shall awaken my roots to flow through wherever I stand. To break through the constraints of mortality. to grant you guidance." 

Slowly did he lower himself down, amongst the muck and mud, did he find that branch of gnarled make and eldritch runes. His fingers, gracing over its design, before the leather clad digits poked at the pointed stake. His head merely nodding as he saw such things, before his gaze looked to the Eldar Flame, to the one that had guided him. 

"Then so shall it be done"

Upon such utterances, did the trees and choir grow, almost in glee. His head thrumming and mind breaking, as he felt his head hit the tough road. He was there, perhaps minutes, hours, days even. Yet upon him standing, did he find within his grasp, that occult branch. His staff, his crook, his guide for the lost sheep. So, did he begin to walk, and walk, and walk!

Until his feet grew blisters, and his skin grew pale and pallid. Until the dyes of his hair fell through, and the shock of silver was made clear again. Through turmoil and travel, did he bear semblance once more to his true visage. The one that was dead, yet not, the one that had learned all he needed. The one that had failed his Kingdom and Lordship. Yet despite it all, did he travel, far and fast, until he found the blackened keep. His hands going to those iron gates, no longer as merely a man, but instead as the Ashen Prophet

Spoiler

Thank you to @ScreamingDingofor running this for me and also for the rp that I'm gonna get out of this, I'm excited to see what is to come and how it all works out.