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Snippet #2474967

located in Phyrexian Grassland, a part of The Garden: An Arcadian Boneyard, one of the many universes on RPG.

Phyrexian Grassland

Vast plains of grass and large fields were the norm at one point here near Kerris, but after a game with a Demon Lord the Phyrexian Grasslands are withered and barren waste-lands devoid of all but a tiny almost village area home to The Nameless.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Keres Leventis
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"Live." The word echoed in his ears. The world fading away into the black, he found himself upon a stone platform, “That's not-' normal, he began to say. Turning his body half to Keres, and Tiotio but the words died in his throat, eyes going wide, as a lump formed in his throat.

A pair of figures approached him. Stopping just outside of arms reach. He could hear screaming, alongside the rapid beat of a hammer on an anvil, even as the buzzing from before became a keening wail in his head. His mind, screamed at him, his powers screamed at him. Impossible, fake, they're both dead.

His heart though, his heart clenched at the sight of the two of them together, of HIM, so close to her. The only person he'd ever cared about more than himself.

His talons extended from his fingers serrated and bleeding molten steel, with a sound like tortured steel, his teeth clenched so hard molten blood pressed out from the gums and spilled around the edges of his mouth.

“Impossible.' He growled, eyes literally alight with his rage, every heaving enraged breath shifting burning hot ash, and embers from his mouth. Every fiber of his being wanted to charge forward, and strike him down, but one thing stopped him, froze him in place unable to act his body locked in place. His Grandmother, standing so close the bastard could touch her.

“I told you I'd take away everything you cared for. Thirteen-thirty seven.' His voice was smooth as he remembered. He was just as Wayland remembered. A tall man wearing an immaculate suit. He had blond hair which was short everywhere but a strip just off the center. A curtain of it hung straight over one eye, rippling with each paced step of his Oxfords. His hands were clasped behind his back, gloved and firm. Smug bastard.

Why wouldn't he be smug? His mind asked, he has her. He has her! His thoughts raged at him, tore at the invading feelings, but the effort was ruined by him. He wanted this to be real, he would give anything for this to be real. If it was he could forget.

Everything around him burned, the world itself seemed to scream as power flared through him, a screaming roar of fire and death, the awakening of his power was violent, truly violent and everything around him turned to ash. Even his-

Banishing the thought he spoke through gritted teeth, hate evident in his voice as he looked at the blond man. “I killed you,' He stopped, twin beads of molten light appearing at the corners of his eyes as he looked at his grandmother, his voice softened. “I killed, both of you.'

“You did!' She screamed, her voice accused him, the man just smiled his condescending smile, nodding. “I loved you like my own child! Gave up everything for you, and you killed me!' She was practically howling at him then, every word like a physical blow, he stumbled back with each one, the rage at the man fleeing from him, replaced by liquid agony, that racked his body.

Retreating. His mind whispered to him, in a thousand different voices poised like a blade to his throat. He froze, an alien sensation running through him accompanied by the sound of a hammer striking and anvil. He could vaguely make out Tiotio, and Keres near him, as his tunnel vision began to clear.

“I did kill you. I'm sorry.' He said, voice weak, muffled, he couldn't bring his head up to look at them anymore. He was defeated, this was not a battle he could win. He'd faced these demons before, he would not do so again. Could not do so again. To kill her again, would be to kill himself, but he could not flee.

He did not know retreat. His essence rebelled against it. Everything that he was, could not flee, it was not in him.

“Keres,” Tiotio called, “I don’t know what’s real. Come, help me.” His mind latched onto the voice, a pleading lilt to it. He could not flee, but he could protect someone else. He turned and ran, and something inside him broke.

His backpedaling had taken him a ways away. It hadn't seemed like much at the time, but he was able to clear the distance in a few long strides. We are broken, he thought. As he saw them, Keres, and Tiotio. The two he had shared an interview with.

Tiotio, was pushing a person behind her, as she backed away from a great lumbering beast, made of mud, and sticks. Golem, his mind whispered. The thought, and the knowledge clicking into place, a nameless blade relinquishing the knowledge. Past them, Keres stood limp, as if broken, her usually proud posture bent as if by a great weight, face stained by tears, much as his was. He was a broken blade, but perhaps he wasn't the only one who had been broken by the ordeal.

He came to a halt, standing in front of them. His new allies, comrades even, after sharing something like this, Tiotio, the new person and Keres. He didn't know what he could do. Didn't know if he could fight something like this, but he would try. He set himself into a wide stance, talons at his sides. He had ran from one battle, had cast away a core belief because he could not stand the site of someone he loved.

He could not flee again. He didn't think he could be reforged from a break like that. He spoke then, scraping every last grain of his will together, picking up the pieces of his own broken self and hammering them into words, spoken with every last iota of conviction he had left.

“With you both as my witnesses, I will never run again.'