Dashing across the black sands my shadowy figure shimmers in and out of visibility in the moonlight. Other figures are around me, devoid of much intelligence much less, sight, I slip quietly and unseen past them. Upon a few ridges and dunes I come across a grave of dead trees and water. Towards the center of the water laid a giant dead palm tree, thick around the center and taller than a Mountain Giant. It's leaves spanned dozens of feet long and about as wide as me. Coming to a decision my weary self climbs up into the tree and I cradle myself into a swathe of leaves. I let my mind drift into darker shadows as sleep grips me in its calming claws.
"Wake up, Atrell,"
I stir unnoticeably.
"Wake up, Atrell,"
I stir more.
"Atrell, we've come to save you from your Grief."
My eyes snap open and shadows snake out of my body. Beginning to envelope the people's bodies I feel my rage boil.
"I AM GRIEF!" I bellow, my snake-like shadows coil tightly around their bodies. Feminine and quite slim and busty... no! No thinking like this right now... there's about 20 of them, I can make a sprint for it without killing them... no they will die, they know what I look like... let them live... AHHGGG!!! The conflicts of morality between me and Atrell are headache inducing. I decide to reason with both of me, releasing my coils I speak.
"You call me Atrell, why?"
"We knew you wouldn't kill us,"
"What? Do you want me to kill you?"
"Atrell won't let you do that, come with us Grief. We can help you understand what's going on in your dark mind."
"No, answer my questions fir...."
My mind goes blank.
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The Fury of Valhalla
FantasyA dying Templar turns his soul away from his God to another. Finding a key to redemption wont be easy, Valhalla awaits. To face a monster, one must be willing to sacrifice their humanity.
