Grim's Plotnotes

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This forum is an OOC forum for PCS and Organizations to work out plans in hardcopy. Each PC or Organization gets a single thread where their players can help work out plans for their PC. Quests, mini-sagas, and Trips can all be organized here as well working out timelines and points of travel and things PCs need to do along the way. Each PC however gets only one Plotnote for their individual PC. Groups get one as well. There is no limit on individuals posting saga or trip plotnote threads. Please denote [PC Plotnotes] or [Group Plotnotes] or [Quest/Trip/Saga Plotnotes] when titling your threads.

Grim's Plotnotes

Postby Grim Ravenwood on February 27th, 2017, 10:30 am

Goals for Winter 516AV:

+Religion and Faith
-Hunt down the Nuit from the 1st of Winter
-Help out a ghost in need

+Skills and Proficiency
-Reach "Competent" level with the Scythe
-Learn the basics of Spiritism
-Learn a new skill

+Job and Income
-Begin working at the Ethereal Notions

+People and Socialization
-Spend more time with Aladari
-Become friends with Ferrin
Grim as an Eiyon, appears to undead as either something to be fearful, or weary of, depending on their personal power. To others, he might seem like a mystery, or just odd.
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Grim Ravenwood
You reap what you sow~
 
Posts: 159
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Joined roleplay: June 30th, 2016, 1:54 pm
Location: Riverfall
Race: Human, Mixed
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Grim's Plotnotes

Postby Grim Ravenwood on February 28th, 2017, 9:26 pm

+Death's Hand Arc+

+Part One
-Describe Traveling
-Describe First impressions
-Odd chatter
-Timeskip
-Describe camp
-Describe behavior
-Describe chatter
-Describe sleep
-Describe incident
-Describe emotions
-Describe chase
Grim as an Eiyon, appears to undead as either something to be fearful, or weary of, depending on their personal power. To others, he might seem like a mystery, or just odd.
User avatar
Grim Ravenwood
You reap what you sow~
 
Posts: 159
Words: 124151
Joined roleplay: June 30th, 2016, 1:54 pm
Location: Riverfall
Race: Human, Mixed
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal

Grim's Plotnotes

Postby Grim Ravenwood on March 8th, 2017, 7:54 am

Г


Gnosis Story

2nd of Fall, 514 AV
Dust Bed, Sunberth


The darkness of the early morning still veiled the land, yet Grim was up on his feet even before Syna came to reclaim the territory she had lost the previous evening. Not in a particular rush, the dark robed man slowlly walked uphill towards the ancient cemetery grounds, threading over a path made of stomped grass. The wind sang it's silent tune, caressing his cheek as it did. He distinctly remembered, when he was still little, his father would tell him that the wind was actually his mother's hands, cooling him during the hot summer months.

Grim halted for a moment, even though the well too familiar path was steep, he stopped not from fatigue, but rather to look behind his shoulder. Indeed, even though he had seen it hundreds of times, the sight never grew dull in his eyes. Below the rocky hill on who's flat top the graveyard lay, stood the slums of Sunberth. Emerging from the ocean's horizon at the east, the Sun basked the city in it's ethereal golden light. If one was to judge it solely based on how it appeared at the moment, the same person would be fooled into thinking it was a tranquil settlement, filled with people who would share their last crumb of bread with a complete foreigner. That is how serene it looked.

Pinching the rim of his dark cowl, Grim pulled it backwards, exposing his black mane to the very first beams of sunlight. Strands of obsidian hair whipped his pale visage, warmth spreading over his face. The robed man allowed a faint smile to appear on his face as he turned around, towards his destination. He had no particular reason to smile. One wouldn't consider his reason for visiting anything humorous.

His destination was indeed the graveyard of Dust Bed, his parents grave to be specific. True, unless morbid is your preferred type of humor, nothing laughable. However, the memorial dedicated to their remains isn't the only thing he was visiting as he scaled the hill. No...

It was also his home...

A disharmonious tune echoed somewhere above him. Grim recognized it immediately, as it belonged to his pet skull crow, named Dusk. "I don't think you will ever learn to sing my friend." Grim said, mocking the bird in a playful manner. The black bird dove down, only to land on its owner's shoulder, letting a few raven feathers fall gracefully down, marking the path where the pair went. The thick linen of his robe protected Grim from what little damage the crow's talons could cause. It seemed that Dusk was off to obtain another one of his 'hats'. Resting over its small head, partially obscuring it save for it's two crimson eyes, was the bleached skull of another bird Grim couldn't quite identify. It gave Dusk a particularly menacing look, however the robed man enjoyed his little friend's company.

At the grass path slowly turned into dirt as the graveyard came into view. Surrounding the mass of tombstones, raising from the tall grass, stood what was left of it's, once beautiful stone wall. Cracked, not escaping the damaging embrace of the stone roses, the bastion didn't endure the tooth of time. Although the said tooth managed to puncture many openings and holes in the wall itself, there was one entrance that was designed to be so. Where the walls ended, stood two tall Corinthian columns, over which stretched half of an elegant archway. It's other half rested on the ground beneath it, moved to the side not to obstruct the designed path.

The copper leaves, littering the ground, whispered with every step Grim made. Following the map in his head, the robed man moved on his predetermined route, the one he used every time. The way he maneuvered in between the stone forest showed that he was very familiar with his surroundings. At the far end of the maze, underneath the naked branches of an oak tree, ancient as the graveyard itself, two graves rested one next to another. From time to time, a single leaf, late on it's journey towards the ground, detached from the wooden guardian, dancing on the wind as it made its descent.

The first of the graves, belonged to his grandfather. Although he never met him, father used to tell him stories about his own father, characterizing the man as a humorous individual, one who's lively spirit never seemed to stand still. The epitaph on his square tombstone was chiseled by his own son, and was in fact Grim's grandfather's last wish. Underneath the name Zanku, it read...

"Reader beware as you pass by, as you are now so once was I, as I am now so you will be, so prepare to follow me."

"Humor must run in the family."

Next to Zanku's, stood the grave of his parents. Although the stone itself was far too thin for anything to be engraved, it was in almost perfect condition. It stood out from the rest, although mostly because it was the only tombstone that was regularly being taken care of.

Dusk flew off Grim's shoulder, taking his place on one of the lower branches of the oak that stood guard besides them. The robed man crouched down, only to start unplucking the various unnamed roots that seemed to make their home around the two graves. The time he mourned his parents had long passed, yet, he never could stop himself from asking; how would it turn out if they were still alive?

Even though he was young, he could remember the last day they spent together like it was just a moment ago. His mother, ever the strict perfectionist, nagged his father about the various repairs needed to be done here and there, while he, with his signature smirk plastered over his face, assured her that he will definitely do it some other time, using the fact that there was an decomposing body not far from there as an excuse. He promised that he would tell him of his travels when he and the group come back. However, no stories of the frozen Avanthal, or the pirates of the sea would Grim ever hear again. His mother on the other hand, who's posture never bent, nor will ever wavered, was for the first time he could ever see, truly frightened. With only her arm as a weapon, she ran after her lived one, only to never return.

Odd how history repeats itself...

A distant scream ripped Grim from the memories he sank into, making him flinch at the sudden sound. Yet it didn't stop, the yelp continued on. Someone is clearly I need of help, and the robed man was currently the only one in hearing range. Taking a moment to process the sound, he concluded that it came from the Dust Bed Ridge.

Grim knit his eyebrows, his lips pulled in a tight line as he darted towards its source. It was probably a wolf, or even worse, a pack of wolves. Mentally sighing, the man cursed himself for not bringing a weapon with him. Whatever caused the scream, it meant trouble...

Grim rarely ventured into The Ridge, and when he did, never without special reason. It homed another cemetery, much more ancient than that of Dust Bed, eternally shrouded in mistery. Everyone in Sunberth knew, at least one of the stories and myths surrounding the graveyard. It didn't matter whether they started with a brave young adventurer, or wise old mage, all of the said stories had one common ending.

It was Death...

Even if he wasn't one to believe in such things, Grim felt slightly at unease while he ran trough the stone maze. The many statues of monsters and gargoyles, ones who stood erect as eternal guardians to the vast amount of crypts, seemed to watch him, soaking up every single motion he would make. Adding a bit of spring to his step, he was nearing the place where all the noise was coming from. Yet as he did, every fiber of his bring screamed at him to stop and turn around.

And he did, he stopped.

However, once he saw what he did, he had no intention of turning around. Greatly in contrast with the ground where it lay smeared on, a trail of crimson stood in front of him, only to take a lazy curve to the left, disappearing behind a corridor. If he had to guess, something was dragged over the ground, something dead. Wolves don't drag their prey around, they eat as fast as they can. But no, whatever did this was definitely no wolf.

Another thing of note was the fact that the screaming halted, everything falling silent yet again. Grim took a cautious step forward, following up the trail of still warm blood. One of his hands held onto the rough surface of a wealthy looking tomb as he peaked over its walls. What he saw, made his eyes widen.

Laying in a pool of crimson, rested an old woman he knew, yet wasn't sure what her name was. Grim knew that she was a widow, and often visited her husband's grave. Yet there she lay, with her guts falling from her side, and with a huge gapping hole in her belly. Her pained expression was that of one that had just seen a ghost, and remained frozen like that. The irony smell of blood bit at his nose, urging him to use a hand to cover it. However, before his hand could even move to preform the said task, a hard, dull object struck him over the back of his head, making him loose balance momentarily, and fall besides the woman's carcass.

As he lay on the ground with his senses dulled, the only thing that existed at that moment was the immense pain he felt. A warm blood slowly dripped from inbetween his fingers, one that Grim recognized as his own. Whoever assaulted him, must be preparing to finish him off. With that thought in mind, the robed man tried to force the agony out of his mind and turn around, only to see a tall figure looking down on him, with bulging glassy eyes.

Dressed in a somewhat simillar manner as himself, the figure held a rock in one hand, and a rusty, serrated dirk in the other. He was exceptionaly tall, with long and thin limbs. Where his wrinkled skin wasn't covered in dried blood, it was pale as if he was a corpse. His teethless mouth stood hanging, half open, shaking slightly, as if he is struggling to say something, but for some reason, couldn't. The expression on his face was the most, terryfying, aspect of the man. It looked pained, confused and struck with guilt at the same time, yet somehow determined. Just looking at it sent a chill down Grim's spine.

Crimson tickled down the vicious blade of his dagger, only to form a drop at the tip, and fall down, staining the grass. It was obvious who was the one to end the life of the old lady. And it didn't take a genious to figure out who was next on this, 'thing's' hitlist.

The figure made an uncertain step forward, raising the weapon in it's hand ever so slightly. "The blood in your veins is whispering that i release it." He spoke with an bone chilling calmness, before taking another step closer. Grim couldn't do anything but watch as the confused look on it's face became a mask of rage. "LET ME FEEL ITS WARMTH!" The murdered screamed, gripping the handle of his weapon with both hands, only to raise it high over his head. As the lethal steel dove down on Grim, who lay on his back still taken aback with everything that had just happened.

Unsure of what to do, the robed man decided to counterattack, using the only weapon that he had currently at his disposal, his legs. As the assaulter swept down, hoping to strike a blow at the chest, Grim's foot shot wildly up. The hit connected, sticking the mad murdered on the sternum. However, he was much more resilient than one would judge based on first impressions. Instead of knocking him back, the assaulter pressed his weight down, only to be thrown forward, carried by Grim's foot.

His rather short flight ended in him landing face-first on the hard marble ground, still holding the dagger with an iron grip. Grim did well to use this ray of luck and get back on his feet while the other man recovered from his uncomfortable landing.

Still slightly confused, his mind raced to determine the best reaction to this situation. The thing, though humanoid, didn't resemble much of a human. It's motives are likewise, uncertain and unclear.

"Besides the fact that he wants to kill you..." He sarcastically remarked in his mind. That much was painfully obvious. What would his parents do? A picture of his mother telling him to go and sink his teeth in the creature came into mind, however, he dismissed it when the said creature got on its feet again. It now looked angrier, if such a thing was even possible.

Running was probably his best option. After all, unarmed, he didn't had much of a chance at making it out alive.

Thus, hastily turning away, Grim took a sprint in the opposite direction, sincerely hoping that the murderer won't be so eager to follow. However, the sound of another pair of steps besides his own, quickly approaching him proved him wrong. It would seem that the creature was agile, far more than he would think. It was even faster than most people he know, including himself.

The stone maze that was the dust bed ridge was slowly getting thicker, with the abandoned passageways between tombstones and crypts becoming more narrow and narrow. If he keeps running, he would face a great disadvantage. Thus, realizing that he would have been caught anyway, Grim suddenly stopped, taking a sharp turn to face his oncoming foe.

The armed creature didn't expect his prey to suddenly come to a halt. Much so, he didn't expect an elbow to be smashed into his jaw. The extra force added by the fact that he ran into Grim's attack, made his head snap in the direction if the attack, its jawbone seemingly dislocated. But, proving to be sturdy at his feet, the creature resisted to fall down, wildly swinging the dirk in a wide arc.

A shallow, yet long cut appeared over Grim's chest as the rusty blade glided trough the air, drawing blood. A second cut opened on his right shoulder, this one deeper due to the fact that the assaulter regained his footing. In effort to avoid further laceration, Grim stepped back, narrowly avoiding the third strike. During this while time, the one wielding the blade, even when it was he suffering the blow, had an maniacal grin plastered over his bloodied face, clearly relishing every bit of pain he suffered or inflicted.

Grim's eyes narrowed as his hand rushed to the deeper if the wounds, trying to stop the profuse bleeding. Instead of pressing on with the assault, the armed man raised his hand, taking his time examining the fresh stains of blood on his blade and fingers. Nearing the dagger closer to his face, his sickly green tongue ran across the corroded surface of the small blade, licking the blood clean off.

"So sweet, I can feel your fear in its taste!" The assaulter commented, the words hard to recognize due to his dislocated jawbone. However, it was clear he savored every moment of this 'hunt' of his. And he was right, to an extent, he truly was afraid. And not without reason either.

Holding the blade flatly in front of him, the creature used its other hand to push it forward, aiming to stab the man in front of him in the abdomen. However, Grim anticipated the move and side stepped, ignoring the pain that occurred as he twisted his torso.

He was unable to launch an attack before the armed man retaliated, as if he expected of his victim to dodge at that certain time, spot and way. Being backhanded by the creature felt like being hit by a sock filled with lead. And sent him straight to the ground. Hands to the sides, he landed flatly on his back, causing yet another source of agony as the wind left his lungs.

His adversary, with a smug look on his face, or at least as smug as one like he could make, looked down on Grim's fallen visage. Crouching down, in a hammering motion, he buried the serrated edge to the hilt in the flesh of his thigh. The said action made the injured man produce a scream much like the one his assaulter used to lure him to his untimely doom. The jagged blade sunk deep into his flesh, scraping his bone as it did.

Unable to move or resist, the crouching figure placed one of its bony knees on top of Grim's chest, making it hard to breathe as he applied pressure. To make things worse, his slender fingers, sticky from blood, coiled around Grim's neck, effectively suffocating him.

"You have some fight in you, we can always use capable ones like yourself at our ranks." He began, his voice and expression reclaiming the form they had once the pair first 'met'. Grim tried not to panic as less and less oxygen came to his brain. "If you agree to join the ranks of Uldr, all this torment could stop..." Then he realized, realized what this thing killing him was. It was a returned, an undead. The same type of creature that massacred both his parents. Infamous in whole of Mizahar, who would have thought that he would meet the same fate as they.

His muscles felt weak, and the pain in his leg made him want to die soon.

"And the power, nothing could stand in your way." He tempted, not loosening his iron grip for a second as he spoke. But really? He just has to agree to worship some god and all this pain would stop? What's more, he would gain speed and strength like him? And all he had to do was say yes? What is one word to the bliss to come afterwards?

"Just say yes to the lord!" Loosening his hold, just enough for one shallow breath, and the desired answer, the creature beckoned Grim to say yes, and accept.

The strict image of his mother formed in front of his eyes. The sting of a slap came shortly after. Surrender? Even if he was only half an Isur, a mutt, Zeyna always reminded him to be proud of that part of him. Real Isur do not yield to some shit like this one. And if he got the smallest portion of his father's stubbornness, he wasn't going to bow to some shitty deity like that. Not while his heart still pumped hot blood.

"Y-you want to hear my answer?" Grim asked, drawing what little air he could, just enough to delay loosing consciousness.

His eyes, closed tightly until now, shot open, fueled by decisiveness and fire. Vigor spread trough his body as his left hand reached for the serrated edge in his thigh. A howl of pain ripped from his sore throat as the dirk was pulled out, dragging chunks of bloodied flesh with it. Swinging it with all the might he had, the lethal steel whistled trough the air as it cleaved trough the creatures throat and windpipe. Where there was supposed to be blood, there was nothing. It was as if he was cutting a training dummy. However, this didn't stop Grim as he released a barrage of wild slashes.

If his face wasn't cut up, a look of surprise would have occupied its place. Forced back from the relentless attacks, the creature fell to its back, holding its tho hands in front of itself as a means of shielding it's vital areas. However, fingers didn't stop him, no...

Pinning his foe to the ground with his weight, Grim grit his teeth due to the pain he experienced from all the moving with serious injuries. Nonetheless, the viciously serrated dirk glinted as it was raised high. "To hell with you and your god![b]" Crashing down, with every shouted word, the weapon imbedded itself in it's former owner's chest, leaving a gapping hole each time it left it's flesh, only to strike yet again. The newly found strength and adrenaline started fading from his system.

As each second ticked, the metal of the weapon he wielded became more and more heavy, up to the point where it simply rolled off his palm, landing with a dull thud. Pain from each wound caught up to his as his breathing became ever so slightly shallower. Fatigue could soon be felt at every fiber of his being, having only enough strength to roll besides the now dead returned. Or at least he hoped that he was dead.

As a half smile crept its way on his face, the robed man observed his work. He felt a strange sort of satisfaction while looking at the weapon as it stood impaled in the creatures heart. Maybe this was some way of taking vengeance for the death of his parents, taking vengeance for his stolen childhoods' and happiness.

Yet, he couldn't stop a tear from rolling down his cheek, making a muddy line as it mixed with the dirt and dust.

How funny would it have be if he wasn't actually dead, and just raised up, after all he had done. With that last thought his mind want completely into dankness.

-----~+|=•=|+~-----

Wet. And rough.

Grim groaned as two tongues slid over his cheeks, leaving a thin coat of saliva on them. His hand rose up, attempting to remove the things that obstructed him from the rest that he desired so greatly. His hand indeed did feel something, it was warm and furry. An animal?

One of his eyes lazily opened, trying to soak up its surroundings. Looming over his face, taking places at each side of the bed he lay on, stood two jackals. One of them was black as night, who's silky coat seemed to be darker that Dusk's feathers. The other one was as white as the first snow that appears on his birthday. If one was to find two animals such as this close to his neck, the first instinct would be to panic. However, strength wasn't something he could spare currently.

"You are awake." Said a voice. The migraine prevented him from identifying the source of the intruding sound. At this point, he didn't know did the voice come from the sky, one if the tombstones or if even one of his furry friends spoke. And frankly, he didn't care. If just he could get another minute of rest...

Just as both of his eyes closed again, his mind ready to re-embark on its voyage towards dreamland, something viciously pulled him from that out of reach bliss. The same voice cleared its throat, rather loudly. Obviously trying to attract his attention.

Grim found that the two animals were staring at him rather intensely. Now, the sting of his wounds wasn't the only thing that made him uncomfortable. Just then, the corner of his eye caught slight movements to the right. One of the tombstones, broken in half due to some occurrence, now served as a makeshift bench for a woman that sat on it. She was dressed in a long and simple black dress, with the pale skin of her arms bare, exposed to the chilly winds, ones that seemed not to bother her. Long raven hair framed her fair face, it too was seemingly unaffected by the wind. Her eyes, matching the color of her clothes, stared at the man lying in the dirt before her, waiting for any kind of reaction.

Although Grim was slightly confused upon first laying eyes on her, realization soon struck him. The jackals, the wounds, he was dead wasn't he? He surprised himself at how calmly he accepted his assumption as a given fact.

"[b]I am dead, am I not?
" He asked, plainly as if he wanted to know the price of bread from the bakery. "Thought that I'd at least get a few gray's before I meet you, my goddess." The lying man added, smiling as he did. Even though he tried getting up, in effort to not be rude in the presence of a divine, he was soon discouraged by the still present hole in his leg. Huh? Is this supposed to hurt?

"No, you are not dead yet." The goddess stoically replied, after waiting long enough to conclude that Grim didn't have anything more to say. She didn't rush to convince him that her visit was not for the purpose of taking his soul, after all Death never rushes. "Even though you list a lot if blood, you are very much alive."

"To... what do I owe this visit then?" Grim asked, a puzzled expression taking its place upon his face. Finding out that he was not quite dead yet was a relief, but then again, can anything good come out of getting visited by the queen of the dead herself?

"I have came to commend you on your..." She paused, gesturing to the vile smelling corpse, the dagger still sheathed in it's ribcage. "...deed.

"It took great courage to do what you did, and to find the strength to fight back against a stronger foe." Dira said, crossing her hands in her lap, a half smile adorning her face.

Grim, still taken aback by everything that had happened up until now, from the undead attack, to the appearance of a divine, only smiled as she spoke, although somewhat nervously. How to reply? From the few possibilities, he picked silence, allowing the goddess to carry on.

"Have you ever asked yourself what happens to the souls of mortals after they die?" Dira asked, resting her chin in the pallm of her hand.

Now that she asked, Grim realized that he hadn't really thought much about that matter, nor did he pry much into what people believed. Once you die, well, you are just dead. It doesn't matter to you since you can't change it, and everyone will find out eventually. Thus, he concluded that busting one's mind was not quite worth it. After placing a thoughtful look, the robed man said a plain 'No'.

Expecting such an answer, the goddess continued. "After the soul leaves the body, it is off to get reincarnated into another being. What and who it is incarnated into depends on many things, but eventually everyone must take that path. Therefore, life leads into death, and after death, a new life is born, and so on. What I have just explained is known as the cycle of life and death." Dira spoke, before asking the man. "What do you suppose that that creature is?"

Grim's eyes moved to take another look at the limp corpse not far from him. The memory of how it attacked him, only to later offer him its same 'abilities' in order to cease the torture, hit him. The abilities came as a 'benefit' of serving Uldr. "It is a returned, one of the undead."

"Indeed, the same one that ended the life of your parents?" The goddes asked, although knowing well what the answer was. "Why do you think one chooses the path your attacker had chosen?"

The robed man put on a thoughtful look, sparing a glance at the dead body yet again. As he gazed into it's bulging, glassy eyes, he wondered what could have made him want to become what he had. Certainly, as he had tried to make him, one would need to willingly accept the curse? "I suppose that he had tried escaping death." The robed man stated as he shrugged.

One of Dira's hands went downwards, only to run a hand trough the dark fur of one of her jackals. "Some of you mortals fail to see that death is inevitable." She said, a small hint of frustration in the tone of her voice. "But yes, this particular returned was faced with the choice you had. Either accept the curse, or die."

Grim listened carefully while the divine spoke. Then realization hit him. How easy it would have been to just accept it's proposal, to just give in. Then, he wouldn't have met the goddess, but probably began hunting humans himself. And he would have definitely accepted, had h e not snapped back in the right moment.

" could have became one of them, I could have became a monster, just like that. Grim spoke, gazing into the distance. "To think... that there are others like him, taking life because they refused to die?" The robed man realized that by refusing and in that way endangering death, these things also endanger life itself. "Just by existing, something as important to very existence, the cycle, is being unbalanced. And yet everyone is bust with wars and politics when we have something like this at stake?"

"No Grim, not everyone." The goddess said, smiling ever so slightly. "That brings me to the main reason of my visit." Dira spoke as she raised herself slowly. "Now that I see you understand, I want to offer you a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes, a gift of purpose." And with that, the goddess approached, only to fall to her knees, next to the lying man. With a grunt of effort, Grim managed to raise himself enough to rest his back against the cold surface of a low stone wall. "You spoke of how nobody is doing anything to enforce the cycle. But tell me, are you willing to devote yourself to doing so?"

Grim now knew that he was standing on a crossroad in his life, where he would have to make an important decision. Either go to the mundane life he had been living so far, or serve Dira and try to help ensure the cycle's stability. However, there wasn't much of a choice there. His path had already opened to him.

"Yes, I am willing to do all in my power to hunt down those that seek to flee the cycle, and drag them back screaming and kicking if need be.". Grim said, his voice decisive, every word filled with determination.

"Know that serving under my wing doesn't come without burden." Dira said, testing his determination.

"I have never been more sure about anything in my life, this is my path, and this is my purpose." Grim spoke, clenching a fist in front if himself.

Very well then." The queen of the dead spoke, raising her hands to cup his fist, opening it gently. This action was met with a slightly confused look from Grim. Her eyes locked with his as she held his hand, as if she was looking for a trace of uncertainty in his stormy gray ones. But she found none, they were like steel, glinting like the edge of a blade. And, for the first time the he saw her, a genuine smile adorned her face. Like raven curtains, her silky hair shrouded her as she lowered her head. Although he couldn't see, Grim felt the warm sensation of lips kissing the skin of his palm.

His usually pale cheeks were now tinted red. A feeling of numbness suddenly overcame his hand. The divine observed him with great interest, waiting to see how he would react. Grim watched wide eyed as the skin of his palm blackened, only to take the shape of a scythe. Clenching it several times, in effort to relieve it from the still present numbness, he shot a questioning look towards the divine.

"It is my mark. You are now the youngest of the Eyion's Grim, and have the powers to help you in following the path you chose." Dira elaborated. "You will find its powers out soon, use then well."

"I must take my leave now. But before I do, that returned there, you should know that he..." However, Dira didn't finish the thought as she was cut off mid sentence by Grim. "I know. Realized that a whiled ago." His response was met with a nod of understanding from the goddess. She turned to gaze at the now slowly setting sun. No sound was made as graceful steps took her down the cobblestone road, her two companions following closely behind. Grim's gaze stood plastered on her back as she disappeared behind the corridor.

From there, it turned to observe the retured besides him. Ignoring the pain, the robed man raised himself, standing tall. Upon touching the hand of the felled monster, a vivid memory rushed his mind. It was that of himself running the blade trough it's heart, and something he believed to be a trick of his mind. In the last moments of it's unlife, the monster...

...it smiled...

Grim's hands trembled as he took the corpse in his arms, two muddy streaks appearing on his dirty face. "Let's go dad, we both need to rest. Gods know you deserved it."

Grim as an Eiyon, appears to undead as either something to be fearful, or weary of, depending on their personal power. To others, he might seem like a mystery, or just odd.
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Grim Ravenwood
You reap what you sow~
 
Posts: 159
Words: 124151
Joined roleplay: June 30th, 2016, 1:54 pm
Location: Riverfall
Race: Human, Mixed
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