Latch's Tale

I only wish....

Once they got latch in normal clothes, even though he preferred to go armored. They headed into town. When he was out the door. He wanted to run there. His first instinct was to conjure wings, since he was now 370 lbs lighter. He sat and concentrated hard. Then he heard flapping. The wings had appeared once more, and began to move. He then proceeded to run... as fast as he could. There he was running like the devil. He then jumped then the wings flapped, he was flying. The most majestic thing ever.

"Yesss! It worked, It actually worked!" He flew as fast as he could. Cutting threw the air like a knife through butter. He proceeded to go faster and faster. He loved flying. More than anything. He touched down. Jonas sat their in awe, of Spartans grace.

"My God... you actually did it..." Jonas spoke softly with no life in his voice at all.

"You OK?" said Spartan worried.

"I just need to lie down you know..." once again in a lifeless tone.

They decided to postpone their visit to town, since right when they got back into the house Jonas vomited. Spartan thought they probably needed food so he would go hunting. Also it gave him an excuse to put on his armor. He sheathed his swords and scythe and proceeded to walk out the door. He conjured his wings and flew east, for this is where the forest was. He landed and pulled the scythe of of it's harness, climbed up an adle-wood tree and waited. He then slowly fell asleep. Much time later he awoke and saw the crescent moon in the sky."Oh crap, I need to get back to Jonas."

He conjured the wings and began to walk, until he heard a noise. He held the scythe firmly and began to turn around. shing . Metal whizzed passed his face, and he bled from a slice under his eye. The blood was black, much like the cloudy night sky. As he stared at his own blood, he remembered the blood he saw in the ashes of the king. Something inside him was triggered. The same thing he felt when he was betrayed by the town. He felt rage, and like that he could feel something overcome him. He started to say spells and chants subconsciously. Then he raised the scythe to the air, it began to steam a mix of purple and black smoke. The white of his eye turned jet black. Then the assaulter attempted to land another strike, but Spartan saw it coming and grabbed him by the throat, and picked him up.

"Piece of crap, a waste of a soul. Do you have any idea of the torture I've been through? A peasant like you can't break me. No your punishment shall be worse than ever. NAH, NAH, NAH." He repeatedly swung the scythe.

The fight was over before it began. He walked toward a pond and looked down at the creature he had become, and began to cry further burning his skin. He was so horrified with himself, he punished himself. He jumped in the water. His body burned he began to scream under water. But he wouldn't drown for he was immortal unless smited by the most powerful demon. He knew this himself, but he can still feel the pain.