The Scythe: Death's Arise

Chapter 3: Eyes Of Purgatory

About a week later, Thomas awoke to a quiet morning. The only audible sounds were the creaks of his bed as he rose out of it. No wind blew, no rain fell, not even the birds chirped, for this was a day of tragedy. Thomas dressed in his formal attire which consisted of a dark grey button up shirt tucked into black pants with a white tie. He grabbed a satchel and hung it around his shoulder before he left. He then made his way towards the large church, located in the center of Covenant.

The church had a very large main room with several passages that split off into smaller rooms, each with a different shrine representing the main Gods worshipped in the large city. Thomas usually only came here before setting out for battles. He would pray at the Shrine of Bolvec, God of War. Though, today was different. Today Thomas would be visiting the Shrine of The Grim, the Shrine of Death.

There was no actual God of Death in the beliefs of the Granyan people. It was believed to be a role assumed by a mortal soul deemed worthy by the High God, God of Creation, Cornelius. The reason of Thomas's presence here was because yesterday morning, Thomas's Grandmother had passed away. At the age of seventy nine, she had died to heart failure. Thomas knelt on one knee and started a prayer but he didn't get very far before being disturbed by someone entering.

"Death is a special thing." A strange voice behind him said.

Thomas looked calmly back. He was put off, not because this man snuck up behind him, but because of how similar he looked to Thomas.

The man was dressed in intricately designed black armor, with symbols Thomas had never seen before, and he carried two large battle axes sheathed on his back. He had the same color of hair and eyes as Thomas did though he was older by considerable amount. Looking nearly thirty or forty years older than Thomas, he had a rigid face, perfectly trimmed hair, and the stare of a cold killer. Thomas could tell that this man was a veteran of many long battles. Also, he was followed by a cloaked figure that gave off a very vague a discerning aura.

"Special, though still heart breaking." Thomas replied after realizing he had been staring at the man.

"Who was it?" The man asked as if he knew Thomas had lost someone recently. It was true people came here when they lost someone but this shrine was mostly used to stop someone's death or ask for it. It was rare that someone would come here to pray, mainly because most thought it absurd to pray to a being that wasn't a god.

"M- my grandmother, but how did yo-"

"Your posture."

"What?" Thomas was very confused.

"Your posture; that's how I could tell you were grieving. Slouched shoulders, a head that can barely be kept up by your neck, and your hands are shaking."

"While all of that is true, I could argue that it's just my posture."

"Not with a body shaped like that."

"Maybe I'm sloth."

"No, you're not sloth. You're a warrior."

"Oh? How can you be so sure?" Thomas was slightly aggravated because he wanted to be alone at the moment, but he was intrigued by the man's nature and keen observations.

"Where to start, aside from you're intimidating muscles, you've got scars on both of your arms. Not only that, but your stance is that of a well trained fighter: easy but not off guard, ready to pounce or dodge at any moment. Of course those are just the physical tells. You're gaze is a hard, inserting dominance over any who meet it. Not to mention you already knew I was here though I made no footsteps. No, you felt my aura."

"Aura?"

"You call it 'presence'. You believe it to be based on physical conditions: noise, shadows, airflow, etcetera. I guess that is a part of it."