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Snippet #2485031

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: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender
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Pravus did not recieve an answer to his proposal and yet the answer was clear enough to him. By the actions the stray phantom of his father it was clear that the head of the nameless intended on seeing this through to the bitter end.

“You would allow such a thing? This is how far my son has fallen?” His father's voice attacked him like an unrelenting hound, biting at him with each syllable uttered. There was no pain, his body was beyond pain but if there was a form of anguish that could exist purely within the mind then it would be the very symptom which ailed Pravus. In a smooth rotating motion Pravus slowly turned to face his father yet again, the old features of this memory brought to life contorted in a twisted frown of disgust and disappointment.


“A lifeless thing wanders the earth, stricken and in pain, and you do nothing to end her suffering? You abandon me, abandon your duty, fine! But I will not. I will put this creature to rest!” Pravus did not answer it. The visage spoke of her as though she were just another zombie mindlessly roaming the streets of Sed. It was clear she was not suffering, her will was most definitely her own. She will return to her afterlife when it is her time He silently reaffirmed.

He was not going to answer the phantom of his father. To answer it would be to acknowledge it's existence as another being and not just a mirage to be dismissed. If he needed to bury his past once more then so be it but he was not going to let it speak back to him as a person. His father died once before, even if he had returned this place was not where he belonged.

He watched the dismal phantom bring it's shovel up high, preparing to smash it down upon Aera's head. As the head of the shovel fell it met with his own shovel. He blocked the wrathful father's weapon as it was just an inch from Aera's skull. The sound of metal sheering rang loud with a nearly deafening screech. Saving her had come with grave consequences.


As they both brought their tools of the trade back to their sides Pravus's eyes could not part from what had become of his shovel. When the phantasmal menace's shovel hit his it had split it in two. The head of his shovel was back over next to Aera's face. Pravus was only holding the handle of his shovel now.

This shovel, his family heirloom, his most prized possession, the only thing left to remember his father by, the only reason he did not lose his own mind in face of the horrors that roamed Tiatha, was destroyed. He was not aware that
the damage inflicted was illusory, a falsehood designed to push him to his breaking point. He could only look on in horror as the only constant in his afterlife lie bisected in his own hands. His fathers words rang around inside his mind but he was too stricken to even recognize them as words.


"You don't even have a shovel to bury her with now. What hope do you have of ever fulfilling your duty?"