Eternal Warpath

Chapter 1

A hand shot out from the dirt, reaching for the heavens. Dirt parted, as the creature freed itself of its grasp.  Arms outstretched on either end, drawing in as much of the late-night air its lungs can bear. How long has it been since it draws breath, years, decades it couldn't tell, time was nothing from where it came, it was glad to act once more.

It looked to the heavens, the sky was darkened by the cloud but as if the one from above knew, the clouds opened with the likes of curtains for stage play and the full moon the spotlight. It beamed its mystical light onto the creature, this was a sign, the heavens were the first to witness this act and will be the ones to see it through. 

Illuminated by the eye of the night was a man. His complexion was that of rich chocolate, his hair resembled the mane of a lion but was as dense as sheep's wool. A face of a soldier who had seen the horrors which man has enacted upon one another, his attire was ragged. They show signs of years gone by, the shifting of the world and its many unseen effects. However his body shows no such sign, instead, it is closer to that of a child fresh from its mother's womb. 

Dirt was still present in areas of his body, it didn't bother him one bit, arms widespread casting a shadow over his earthy tomb. He filled his lungs once again, this time an audible rasp, coughing up a worm and some roots. How they got there he paid no mind. Dropping to his knees the man punched the ground, grabbing a fist full of dirt and flinging it aside.

A primal growl escaped his maw, eye filled with hate and anger, his face creased as his onslaught on the muck escalated. He stopped and looked at the moon once more, he swore it blinked at him. Frantically surveying his surroundings, nothing but shrubs and trees. 

"Oh.....father..."  throwing his head back, tears trickled down his cheeks, "Have mercy on those that sully your name for profit, for fame. Have mercy on the sinners who masquerade as saints, you lie to the good people and swindle them of their crops, livestock, and wares. Have mercy on those who have wrong me......" his eyes set along the horizon, a look for grimace, "For I shall not" 

Ascending to his feet, the man advanced eastward. Barefooted, but determined, certain of his destination. The moon shone brightly, but its glimmer was defused by the dense bush of the temperate forest. The man had some measure of direction, what remnants of his memory cling to the idea of a village being there. This comes from before his demise, leading a gang to the location where he was slain. 

Throughout the night, the whims of nature's influence battered against his skin. What little the rag his slayers wrapped him in covered, wasn't enough to keep the bite of frost from getting under his core. This bothered him slightly but not as much as the brush tugging at his mane. He does recall the forest being dense but not as much as it is presently. The most needed to navigate it was a sense of where they should be heading, but the man had some measure of doubt about the supposed village or town, some settlement might still be standing.

Just before anything popped off she remembered rumours of war. Soldiers from lands beyond landed on the upper lands who had weapons that spit fire and iron. They wore metal caps and engraved breast plates. The man had wondered if it was one of them that slew him, no it can't be, they were not anywhere close to there. 

He then tried remembering his last moments, was it steel that struck him or a club? Was it a skilled battle or was it an execution, an act of betrayal perhaps?

His head was struck, by a branch, this irritated him a bit. "I wish to be out of here as soon as possible." rubbing the area in which he was smacked, "However, I am in no shape to face anyone. Down to an infant just might best me in combat."

Days had passed since his revival. Until now the man has been wandering the woods aimlessly, he deviated from his original goal, he was heading eastward, but then north, then south, soon after west, before long east. The endless greens and earthy browns blended in with one another, there was no means to set a landmark that would aid him in assessing where he currently stands. He swore up and down he should be close to a settlement at any given moment, a road or a path, some sign that signifies that man had established himself.