Sliced Meat //small chunks late night ideas//

THE ONCOMING STORM

~Legend tells of a great fighter, destined to bring either peace and hope or chaos and destruction, which path this warrior takes will be their choice and there's alone. Everybody who worships the gods that sent us the divine wall, which shows physics and mystics the prophecies, either fear this warrior above all else or they worship him,all blood drawn by their swords dedicated to his name.~

The night was dark when I was born. The wolves howled and the mystics sat up restless. I was protected greatly until the day I left our godforsaken village, they plead with me not to go but I was not one to listen to my elders. I now regret that choice as I lay here in the dirt, my blood pooling around me, trickling into rivers of dispair and hatred. "I will not risk you going down the wrong path my friend" Those words hung in the air as I saw the silhouette of my name brother fade into the darkness. "Agrath..." was that my voice? I think it was. "I apologize Deyan". Nothing. Time stops as my personal story writes itself in front of me...memories, puzzle pieces slotting together. Almost all of them feature Agrath.

The sun has just risen and we are walking through the woods, grinning at eachother like idiots yet we dare not laugh. We both hold our best hunting bows. Suddenly he stops and looks forwards. His elven sight and hearing picking up something that my human senses could not. He pulls his bow string taught and takes aim. The arrow is let loose and a few seconds later birds break though the trees. We walk onwards till we come to the fallen stag. "Nice shot" I carefully pull the arrow from the beasts temple. Agrath just smiles at me.

Nothing.

The nothingness is broken again. This time a memory of realization. Argath laying on the makeshift bed next to mine. "Have you ever wondered if you're him." I pass a quizzical glance in his direction. "I mean, you beat the chief in hand to hand combat when you were just 16" I shrug. "he was going easy on me" Argath laughs at this "Jaroeth? Going easy on somebody? He wouldn't go easy on a baby girl!" I don't respond. "My ma said there was something special about you and I agree. You are him. The warrior of prophecy. Deyan, bringer of holy light or eternal darkness. Deyan, the mortal god."

Another memory breaks through. A bad one. I'm no longer dreaming. This is a nightmare. I'm holding a bloodied knife. Shintana Lays bleeding next to me. Why did I do this to her? Was it even me. It couldn't have been. I would never tell anybody of this but Argath knew. He always knew these things. The next day the elf would find me in the woods, drenched in my loves blood.

No wonder he thought I would go down the path of destruction. No wonder he killed me. I am Deyan. I am a mortal monster.