Author_of_Fate

I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. 

I died.

Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods?

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The Forsaken Hero

Skorrish's grip on his spear tightened. He struck a fighting stance.

"You can threaten me, but your power is futile against me. The worst that happens is I end up Rash'alon, a fragment of my soul destroyed," it snarled.

Arantius shrugged. "Perhaps, but then again, perhaps not. The Oracle's power was raw and unrefined. She was but a child picking at a few stray threads in the tapestry of fate. An act of desperation, more than anything."

He lunged forward, spear tip exuding a malefic darkness. Arantius parried the attack, knocking the spear to the side. Skorrish's force carried him off balance, but the remnant let him regain his feet, frowning at him.

Into the Fray