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Tiger's randomness
just a place for my random thoughts and ideas as well as a place to throw my old pics I don't want to lose.
Student surpasses the master
A boy stood before a black book, it's pages stained by the crimson blood that flowed from the countless victims before him. He held in his hand a scythe, it's handle ebony and dark as a moonless, midnight wasteland and it's blade Ivory and white as the silver moon when it shines it's brightest. His ragged cloak billowed around him as an ominous wind blew through the trees that surrounded the small clearing in which his deeds were to be performed. The dark black and red clothing he wore were nothing compared to the blackness of the sky and the emptiness in his eyes as he raised the scythe high into the air. The young boy that lay before him, bound and gagged, seemed to plead with him from the bright blue eyes that the boy so deeply despised. The scythe sank into the ground before the younger boy and as it was pulled back, it cut into the dry soil, tearing open a crevice in the earth, a in the depths of the crevice, a shadowy portal opened.

From the strange rift in reality drifted a figure, cloaked in a darkness that seemed to swallow all light and warmth from the world around it. It cast dull red eyes upon the boy with the scythe in hand and raised a bony hand from beneath it's dark cloak, pointing at him. It spoke in an voice that revealed nothing of it's gender, it's preference for life and death or it's personality. "You! Who are you to call me from my home in the Shadow Realm, this Earth's Netherworld?" it asked of him.

The boy smirked as the cloaked figure pointed at him and once again he raised his scythe into the air, bringing it down in a silvery sweep, faster than the figure could react. The blade sank into the shadowy figure and as it let out a shriek of horror and defiance of such an act against it, it's form began to dissipate. The scythe rent it's way through the figure, tearing it's form entwain. The figure began to dissolve into nothingness, though from the nothingness emerged a black mist that fought against the eerie winds until it struck the blade of the scythe, twisting about it until the ivory was fraught with black markings and runes. A final word from the former figure echoed through the clearing as the mist faded at last. "You who have slain the avatar of death must now take it's place. You who have attempted to subjugate the forces of nature must become one in and of itself." rang the creepy voice, sending chills up the younger boys spine.

The older boy cut the younger free and spoke to him softly, his amber eyes reflecting kind of eerie kindness."I have done it my love, I have become Death. With the power to control life and death at my disposal, we can be together for eternity now." he said as the two walked away from the clearing, leaving the book...and the scythe laying on the ground.

No one has seen the apprentice Necromancer and his lover for over a hundred years now and the book and the scythe remain where they were left, untouched by time and yet guarded by the forces of nature or so it seems.

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Requiem of Whyspers
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