Reckoning Day
A pale skinned man stared out through his window, a soft smile as he looked over the lands. Beautiful land, with the colors of fall. He almost wished he could open the window, but after his last attempt... His expression went from a smile to a frown. What plague did he have, what soiled intent upon his soul, that he found the need to override such a primal need? The will to survive, and yet... They took everything. Nothing in his room was sharp. Nothing was heavy. No liquids, no... anything. He even lacked sheets for a simple bed. Noble by birth, but observing his personal chamber, one would think him a peasant. He had... he had to get out. The man had to leave. He looked out the window again, closing his eyes for a moment before making a decision. He left his quarters, noting the time: Half an hour to mid-day.
Ten minutes pass. He made it back to his room and sat there, staring out the window, a stolen sword in his hand. Little convincing had to be done, his mind was made - Today he would die by his own hand. Whatever plague, whatever soiled intent lingered inside, it would have its victory.
As the bells rung throughout town to herald the arrival of mid-day, the Rozdelit household was in an uproar after a scream. Guards, medics, and servants rushed to the source - Dezmeer Rozdelit, bleeding from the neck, a self inflicted wound. Attempting to weakly order them away, they ignored his request. A scar came over the area where the steel bit in. For many months he would remember what it was like to be so close to death, feeling his final breath come closer and closer... Until the work of the Magi came and stole it away.
Within a few days of the event, Dezmeer was reported missing. An elven figure fitting his description was seen entering the woods, but after several weeks, no one reported his return nor did they find a body.
Ten minutes pass. He made it back to his room and sat there, staring out the window, a stolen sword in his hand. Little convincing had to be done, his mind was made - Today he would die by his own hand. Whatever plague, whatever soiled intent lingered inside, it would have its victory.
As the bells rung throughout town to herald the arrival of mid-day, the Rozdelit household was in an uproar after a scream. Guards, medics, and servants rushed to the source - Dezmeer Rozdelit, bleeding from the neck, a self inflicted wound. Attempting to weakly order them away, they ignored his request. A scar came over the area where the steel bit in. For many months he would remember what it was like to be so close to death, feeling his final breath come closer and closer... Until the work of the Magi came and stole it away.
Within a few days of the event, Dezmeer was reported missing. An elven figure fitting his description was seen entering the woods, but after several weeks, no one reported his return nor did they find a body.
The Day The Sins Set In
The First Blood Battle.
The Half-Way, The Rise of the Star
The Ending, the Abandonment of Blood.
