Till Mill's Story

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Ulyssess looked down at the grave before him, it decorated with flowers, freshly picked, the grave stone of white marble and granite, his long white hair reaching his lower back yet looked so soft. He would slide the black glove from his left pale, slender hand with sharp black claws on them onto the grave stone, slowly sliding his hand over the top of it, so smooth and water from the rain tapped off of it, wetting his hand and he would look at the flowers so vibrate with red, white, yellow and blues only for them to decay instantly as his pale yellowish hues narrowed their focus on them.

He would then turn his head to his shoulder, hearing the taps and stomps of booted feet...''Sir! We have company!'' All of a sudden the pale man warning Ulyssess would stabbed in the chest with a pike. ''Rift walker killed.'' Then as the corpse of the Rift walker turned to black ash only leaving black blood on the pike itself as evidence of the dead rift walker's existence the soldier looked up and the smug grin disappeared.

Ulyssess would now slowly turn around and slipped his glove on again and his piercing eyes looked stared into the soldier's and he grinned sadistically. ''What a shame...he would one of my favored men...'' He would walk closer, his height easily towering the man's. ''S-stay back!''

Ulyssess would give out a short laugh and he suddenly became black smoke then reappeared at the side of the soldier to his fear and put his slender, clawed hand on his face. ''Decay...'' He'd whisper as the man started to decompose slowly to Ulyssess enjoyment, he'd slam the man down to the damp cobble walk path in the grave yard on this rainy day and bent down, madness in his raging eyes, the redness around his eyes and the black veins around them that spread outwards was a frighting sight.

He would grin, he was on top of the man, his feet at both sides of him and his hands on each side of the soldier's face, Ulyssess's face right in front of the man's his chilling breath giving the man reason to scream in terror...''Take the embrace of a dead man..'' He'd say and continue to use death magic on the man, to which the man's hands were on the wrists of Ulyssess, trying to push them from his face only to grow weaker, Ulyssess just laughed finding excitement from this activity...

This would when other soldiers came four to be exact, Ulyssess looked up at them grinning...''Will you accept him in his new form?'' He'd ask as his suddenly looked at the partially death cursed man, his jaw line revealing his bone structure and Ulyssess would kiss the screaming man's forehead, even went far to lick his fore head then...disappear in a cloud of black..

As the men finally ran to the screaming man, the left side of his face was bone...but he was still alive...screaming in pain and the men were shocked grabbing the screaming man and started to run with him in their embrace to the magic district of the city...

''It burns! Stop the pain!'' The death kissed man screamed, his left side of his face much like a corpse...

''Move! Injured coming through!'' They would all chant, town folk gasping a the sight, hiding their children's eyes from the sight and chatter started to go around the city...''A Rift Lord entered the city without being seen! We are unsafe! The Queen must know what to do!''

And so...the town's folk stood in front of the castle, Magic and machine wielders all alike..

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Ulyssess appeared at the gate to his domain in the far west of Zeelasa and grinned as his followers bowed at his presence. He would nod to the subjects as he pasted the his adviser ran to him from behind...

''Did your trip go well Sir Furor?''

They would continue to walk, he would not answer till they were in his throne room.

''I shook the city with my presence...that is all...''

His Adviser would frown..

''You know what I was asking Sir Furor..''

Ulyssess would turn, using his left clawed index finger to lift the adviser of his up from the ground and put his pale face up at his.

''And I didn't answer...leave it alone...and me.''

He would flick his finger and the adviser would be ported of from his throne room within black smoke and he would sit in his chair, slouched and resting his chin on his palm and one leg crossed over the other...

''Oblivion is the fate of all things..''