The Sight of Gold, Blinds all [Seer]

[TheCaptain 403]

 

Once a proud uruk, cloaked in the finest handwoven silks from his homeland and adorned with magnificent amulets, jewelry, and golden rings crafted by skilled artisans of the city, he strode confidently as a Netjer, a revered priest of Ka’tau. Yet within his heart lurked a shadow, fueled by greed and a craving for gold, power, and riches that tainted his once noble spirit.

 

One fateful day, he crossed paths with a crafty merchant whose avarice rivaled his own. With eyes gleaming as brightly as the coins in their overflowing coffers, the uruk and the merchant struck a deal. From that moment on, the world shimmered in a new light, bathed in hues of gold, and his insatiable hunger for treasure only grew stronger but within a year…

 

He was blinded.

 

His world had become a realm of perpetual darkness, his sight trapped within the confines of his own mind. No longer could he behold the beauty of his surroundings or revel in his wealth. Wrapped in his linens, adorned with fading gold and jewels, he sought to mask the stark reality of his condition. Despite his attempts to mend his vision, even resorting to the eyes of the deceased, weaving it back into his skull, his efforts proved futile.

 

The once mighty Uruk, now reliant on the guidance of his undead companions, was a mere shadow of his former self. Deprived of sustenance, his body wasted away, muscles reduced to mere remnants of their former strength. Ribs protruded through his emaciated flesh, scorched by the relentless desert sun.

 

Driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh, he ventured out, only to find himself stumbling over roots and colliding with trees at every turn. His feeble attempts to reach his prey ended in frustration and futility. Lost both physically and mentally, he grew desperate, invoking the aid of long-abandoned gods and spirits, grasping for any semblance of salvation.

 

“Spirits, Gods of the Creation, Nesahor, Hesthor, and all who shall listen, hear my words”   

 

He cried.

 

“Take me back, I know I have sinned but forgive me”

 

He pleaded.

 

“Forgive me, and let me see the world once more”

 

He begged.

 

And still, there came no answer. His concern mounted as he wondered if the spirits would indeed lend their aid. If not, he would have no choice but to seek out the entity the craftsman had mentioned. Closing his eyes, he reached out to the one the craftsman called, The Selfish.

 

"I am uncertain of your identity, unfamiliar with your nature, unclear of your stature. Yet, in this moment of desperation, I implore you: heed my plea. Listen to my words, mend me, and restore my eyes so I may once more, gaze upon this world and see its colors."

 

Still, no response echoed in his direction as he relied on his undead minions to guide him home, yet even so, he could not find it, the proud Uruk was defeated once more. Eventually, he stumbled upon a spot to lay his exhausted head for the night, amidst the sands of the desert…

 

 

 

 

Spoiler

Upon the acceptance of the seer feat, the following will be dreamt

 

That night, within his dreams, he stumbled upon a tomb. Resting upon its altar was a mysterious figure cloaked in bandages. Adorned with intricate jewelry, adorned with skulls, bones, and gems beyond imagination, this ancient being’s wealth dotted the halls of the tomb, an endless sea of riches. As the figure stirred upright, it spoke in an ethereal tone:

 

"Do you envy me?"

 

In truth, the Uruk harbored envy for the figure's wealth and power. Yet, standing there, facing a mere shell of existence, he realized it was but a husk. Ultimately, its wealth and power mattered not, for it was devoid of life. With a wry chuckle, he replied,

 

"No, for you are already departed. I still possess the chance to amass such riches and authority. You are beyond reach, incapable of such pursuits..."

 

A pause, it did respond.

 

"And yet... so are you."

 

Gazing upon his own decaying form, the Uruk witnessed his impending demise, his skin did rot as flesh started to fall from bone, muscle, sinew and tendon growing loose, falling on its own. Collapsing to his knees, he wept tears of sorrow and enlightenment. He had, in fact, perished before, traversing the Heith-Hadran multiple times, experiencing eons in the world between worlds. He was a husk, yet not prepared to embrace oblivion like mortal souls. He was meant to transcend the simple existence of his clan, his kin, and his father, Skalp'Raguk. He was meant for greatness, yet thwarted by his own shortcomings, dead before truly living.

 

"Accept it." the mummy urged.

 

Meeting its gaze once more, the Uruk listened as it continued,

 

"Bind your eyes, see again. But heed this caution: reveal this boon to no mortal soul, for other gods shall resent my favor. You remain my champion, Ninkthguz."

 

Engulfed in a swirl of sand, the Uruk was swept away, he knew not which god spoke to him, maybe it was Nesahor in a different form, maybe it was an entirely different god or spirit. Nonetheless, upon awakening, he comprehended his purpose.

 

His flesh must remain shielded from the sun's glare, his eyes to be enclosed behind his work. He was to be mummified alive, wrapped up from head to toe, embalmed for he was already dead.

 

 

 

[GrenadierGaming 60]

In the City-State of Rah'tuma, Rakhnar prepared himself and the Machimoi to begin the search for their dark ex-comrade. "He shall be put ta' rest, and Ka'tau shall judge him for his deeds in life and undeath." He affirmed as he sharpened a spear upon the whetstone.