The dark clothed figure stood watching the poor mortal, flailing away at the lock, breaking lockpick after lockpick. It was an amusing sight, in a way. Had the mortal destroyed his pets? Perhaps. He did have a battle axe easily recognised by colour and texture. Not to mention by touch, to an ascendant such as himself. Soon, the mortal got tired and moved to the side, to rest. Seizing the opportunity, he moved closer and flipped the lock open. The mortal could never have heard, could never have seen. Yet when he approached, he sensed.
A unique one, the dark figure thought.
The mortal noticed the lock. Then turned, suddenly. Was that a shadow he had seen? Something that moved? The place did seem brighter... He looked around, carefully. There where shadows around. Shadows being cast of a light he could not see... a light in the middle of the day? He could see nothing. Hear nothing. Yet he knew; he was watched.
Who is there?, he demanded. Nothingness coalesced into a dark form. A living, moving shadow. It had been standing right in front of him, yet it had not been there before. He was wearing a strange cloak, a cloak casting shadows of it's own.
I am all that's left of a man's rage , the figure spoke. His tone, somber, solemn. As if coming up from a deep well, almost echoing in the dark woods.
I can relate to that, actually , the sheep responded.
What?
This mortal either has humour, or is the most lame person I have ever met. And I have met a few, the dark figure thought. Air left his langs, in mirthfull patches of chuckling. The sound, the emotion relaxed the mortal, albeit barely. Pointless banter followed, for hours. The two spoke, of things drunk men would speak of in between fits of laughter and longing. Of a man's heart and of the void that ever threatens to devour it. Of loves lost and of death. Or maybe they spoke of nothing. Merely two men sharing their souls, as men are known to do. Darkness slowly descended and it soon became apparent that the source of the shadows was the light emanating from the cloak, now shining bright and bathing the ruins in numerous shadows. A few of them moved of their own accord. The mortal tensed, feeling the coming of the mistress' children. A howl pierced the night, a howl no living wolf or could ever bring out.
Lost, the undead thought.
They are lost. They will never again be graced in the presence of the throne of bone, of the sword of shadow. They are those who walked the path between light and darkness and... slipped. Off. Into nothing.. Was he speaking out loud, or merely thinking? He knew not, yet he carried on. The lost, they sat down. They listened, too. For even though lost, they knew. He was speaking of their glory. Of the path, of the mistress. The sheep was talking too. Saying brave words, speaking of loss. Yes, this sheep was interesting after all. The pets, they took an interest to him as well. They sat and watched, and listened. They would love him and seek to embrace him. And just like the sheep watching the wolf, the mortal bared his teeth. Took out his undead chopper. He dared them.
Stupid sheep, the shepherd spoke. He was certain, this mortal was coming close to being the most miserable and unhappy creature he had ever seen. Yet, he kinda felt proud for him, watching the shadow wolves, knowing death was coming for him, yet standing tall, speaking.
Into the storm with teeth bared, ready to spit death in the eyeThe dark man turned to look at the sheep. Then roared into laughter. It had been years since he had last felt such an exhilaration. Trust the cattle to dream of becoming a dog. It felt good. It reminded him something, of a man long gone. A man who wanted to be something more than he was. A man who would die, because after all he was just a sheep.
What is important today, is that you remember this lesson, mortal. In darkness, there is no shadow. For without light, there is only... death. I shall await your soul in the other side.... But maybe not today! With a loud chuckle, the dark figure took out a black bottle and proceeded to drop it into the ground. It shattered into a dozen pieces and with it, the light that keept the darkness at bay...
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He walked, wandering if his sheep had made it out. His mind wandering, he never noticed the wolf. In a sudden roar, the beast emerged! ...and rushed a wandering mink. Suddenly he stopped breathing, finally remembering that he didn't really have to. That was close, he tought. Then night of all nights, the mortal emerged, a bunch of living shadows after him. He was walking slow, his energy drained, by darkness and by greed both, for apparently instead of escaping, he looted the sarcophagus. In his mind, he laughed. In reality, he remained still, watching the sheep being torn down by wolf and darkness both. The silence streched endlessly, before the figure walking in the shadow moved and whispered. The shadow turned to face the werewolf. The shepherd, the wolf.
This is -MY- flock!Moments later, a gray hand kneeled to take an axe from the ground. Upon touch, the axe ignited and the smell of burned rotten flesh filled the air. The only thing left to smell it, was the unconcious but still alive form of a dark haired man.
I REMEMBER EXPLICITLY SAYING 'NOT TODAY' he roared in laughter and walked away, luring all the darkness with him. A loud hissing sound, of a fire being drowned in the cold water of a lake. Shadows playfully dancing off the light given by a black cloak.
