A Better Death

Where the dead live on (dead characters only)

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A Better Death

Postby Dellam » Fri Aug 03, 2012 8:40 am

It had to happen to him eventually, that was the price of being an adventurer, a hero wasn't it? He was dead, walking in the path so many of his friends had before, into the Hope Wastes. Well not so much walking in perhaps as becoming concious of the fact that he was there now. When the fire had consumed his physical form he had known this would be the end result and all in all he was less then impressed by it. After all he'd been here before, numerous times, as a living being, what was the big difference now? He chuckled to himself as he clambered to his feet and dusted himself off, looking around over the dull and dark landscape about him. Yes, very much less then impressed. Almost idly he wondered if he'd be staying long this time. He had few enough friends that would raise him left in the living world, perhaps Uthred if he was feeling kind of hopeful or whatever it was he did these days. He wondered if maybe he should be doing something to fill his time while he was here.

He reached up to his back then and touched his swords, checking they were still there. Yep, one, two and...three? He grasped the third hilt and withdrew it from within his armour, already knowing what it was as fingers closed around the grip and he felt the flare of life magic. It seemed it was true, you kept incarnations of what you'd had on you when you died when you crossed over...which meant here in the Hope Wastes he had Natures Wrath. He grinned wickedly as he rolled his wrist, swinging the blade through a figure 8. From the moment he'd picked it up he'd felt like it was an extension of his arm, a little extra part of him. It was a good feeling and as he thought on it more he wondered what he could do with such a weapon here. Before his death he and Aquilla had spoken of what life and death meant and he had considered that perhaps the Hope Wastes could be made into something more then what they were. not a place of despair and horror but perhaps a better place for the dead to cross to.

Well...as hobbies in the Wastes went it wasn't a bad plan was it? Add in that there was likely an army of heroes crossed over from down the years knocking around here somewhere and you had the right ingredients for a party. A revolution. He lifted the sword and slid it back home with his others then rolled his shoulders and head, neck cracking as he stretched himself. He began to walk then and started to whistle as he went. He had a path and a plan, now the first step was to find others. Mamazumo willing they wouldn't be far but for now he had plenty of time and perhaps something better to look forward to.
Player of;
Vynrael, the Hound of Asternia
Jaguar, High priest of the Party
Ekrit, Nomad Magic Weapon maker of Yashmanar
Thromlui, Psychomancer, Nightmare made manifest

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