There was nothing quite like standing atop the world. The view above the clouds revealed that all of the mess and ichor of the world was simply insignificant. Death, betrayal, pain and the other terrible things that a man suffers can’t be seen and aren’t considered relevant to anything or anyone. This is where the gods played. They dined on beds of clouds with silken pillowcases of vibrant and shimmering colors that combined in ways no mortal has ever dreamed. Lush gardens were fed by rivers of purest light that gave nourishment to this haven but also filled it with joy and hope. The sounds and smells both soothed and invigorated the spirit to a euphoria unattainable anywhere else. The sheer brilliance of the scene was almost too ridiculous to behold, yet here he stood. On the fringes of paradise, Azmere touched the scars on his face and felt unworthy to witness the spectacle. Suddenly, the room was aware of the foreign presence. A thousand hands grabbed the Drykas. They covered his mouth, his eyes and bound his limbs. The prodding fingers dug into his ribs and pinched the tendons behind his knees and ankles. He was covered and removed from the holy observation deck without a sound.
Cast down in ruin. Azmere had been here before.
On his knees in the dirt, the many hands fled and left the man alone. Eyes wide shut; Azmere did not want to see where the powers that be would leave him. He took a deep breath in trough his nose which caused his nostrils to flare. The scents attacked his nose with such ferocity that he felt the wretched stench splash upon his tongue. It was so strong an odor that the archer coughed almost uncontrollably for a few chimes. The convulsive eruptions buckled the man at his waist and sent his face flying towards the soil. Hands instantly flew ahead and contacted the ground with strong fingers that dug into the terrain. The sensation of dirt getting under his fingernails caused something to shift.
Azmere opened his eyes and could see his arms and hands before him, keeping him from lying in the filth beneath. As he watched, his skin and muscles unwound from his bones in a manner that can only be described as mesmerizing. Tissue seemed to spiral away in tiny strands that began to look like leaves in a breeze softly blowing away. Ticks went by and the man knew he was becoming nothing when vines shot from the ground below and began to entangle themselves in his bones. As more muscle and sinew fled, more darkness curled around him from the ugly surface of the world. Fingers became claws and arms became powerful legs covered in fur and mud. Pain like lightning burst and constricted every inch of his form stealing his resolve and wracking his body until he felt like he was being crushed from the inside out. The man opened his mouth allowed all of the pain and shame to escape in a massive roar that echoed in Azmere’s ears. Through the echo and amidst the pain he could hear the roar of a broken man change to the howl of a wild dog. It was feral and pierced through the haze that was all around Azmere. He wasn’t a Drykas anymore…
Moving only slightly, he looked himself over seeing the long, slender forearms of a hound from the tufts of fur near the joints to the short black claws. He moved forward testing this new body to discover he had a bushy tail that hung down a bit only to curl up at the tip. The coat of fur was grey and black with no discernable pattern, at least none that he could see. He lifted one paw and then the other gauging this new form of movement. Turning his head to the rear, he noticed the distinct crook of dog’s hind leg. The tail that swished behind him was bushy but not mangy like that of a wolf. In fact, closer inspection revealed similar attributes to a hunting dog. Azmere let the long tongue slip out between large canines and licked his chops. With some effort, he was able to discern that he had a semi-long snout and a black nose. One paw after the other was s slow process but one that he developed a comfort to rather quickly. In the cloud of filth that hung over the land, the dog jogged forward making sure to avoid some of the dark puddles of water that littered the area. There was not much to distinguish them from the rest of the blighted soil aside from a smooth reflection.
Fighting the urge to run away as fast as his four legs would carry him, Azmere continued to navigate his way along this path. He seemed to only be able to see two main points of focus and both were ahead of him. One that seemed near was a giant tree whose appearance seemed to shift every time the toxic fog passed across it. The second was very far away but it gave off the impression of a light shining from a hill. Te closer he got to the tree, the more he heard the sounds around him. A cacophony rose higher and higher into the wind which carried it to greater levels of clashing disorder. Birds and beasts, bugs and men all wailed and beat their chests in anger and frustration. The wind cried murder and the women and children screamed for solace.
The dog stopped. Instinctively, his ears pinned themselves down to his head but not out of an impending threat or change in the melody. No. The pause was for Azmere’s heart. It broke to hear so much sorrow and not just once but over and over again. He looked down and pieces of his heart began to fall into the soil where greedy hands stole them below the surface. As more fell, Azmere fought back and gulped up what fragments he could. He used his clawed feet to dig at and retrieve a few more. The crisis was averted and he knew it bet to continue onward. The enormous tree loomed ever closer and its shadow began to swallow everything. Despite his heartache and despite his fear, Azmere jogged ahead for the tree carrying the broken pieces of his heart in his mouth.
Cast down in ruin. Azmere had been here before.
On his knees in the dirt, the many hands fled and left the man alone. Eyes wide shut; Azmere did not want to see where the powers that be would leave him. He took a deep breath in trough his nose which caused his nostrils to flare. The scents attacked his nose with such ferocity that he felt the wretched stench splash upon his tongue. It was so strong an odor that the archer coughed almost uncontrollably for a few chimes. The convulsive eruptions buckled the man at his waist and sent his face flying towards the soil. Hands instantly flew ahead and contacted the ground with strong fingers that dug into the terrain. The sensation of dirt getting under his fingernails caused something to shift.
Azmere opened his eyes and could see his arms and hands before him, keeping him from lying in the filth beneath. As he watched, his skin and muscles unwound from his bones in a manner that can only be described as mesmerizing. Tissue seemed to spiral away in tiny strands that began to look like leaves in a breeze softly blowing away. Ticks went by and the man knew he was becoming nothing when vines shot from the ground below and began to entangle themselves in his bones. As more muscle and sinew fled, more darkness curled around him from the ugly surface of the world. Fingers became claws and arms became powerful legs covered in fur and mud. Pain like lightning burst and constricted every inch of his form stealing his resolve and wracking his body until he felt like he was being crushed from the inside out. The man opened his mouth allowed all of the pain and shame to escape in a massive roar that echoed in Azmere’s ears. Through the echo and amidst the pain he could hear the roar of a broken man change to the howl of a wild dog. It was feral and pierced through the haze that was all around Azmere. He wasn’t a Drykas anymore…
Moving only slightly, he looked himself over seeing the long, slender forearms of a hound from the tufts of fur near the joints to the short black claws. He moved forward testing this new body to discover he had a bushy tail that hung down a bit only to curl up at the tip. The coat of fur was grey and black with no discernable pattern, at least none that he could see. He lifted one paw and then the other gauging this new form of movement. Turning his head to the rear, he noticed the distinct crook of dog’s hind leg. The tail that swished behind him was bushy but not mangy like that of a wolf. In fact, closer inspection revealed similar attributes to a hunting dog. Azmere let the long tongue slip out between large canines and licked his chops. With some effort, he was able to discern that he had a semi-long snout and a black nose. One paw after the other was s slow process but one that he developed a comfort to rather quickly. In the cloud of filth that hung over the land, the dog jogged forward making sure to avoid some of the dark puddles of water that littered the area. There was not much to distinguish them from the rest of the blighted soil aside from a smooth reflection.
Fighting the urge to run away as fast as his four legs would carry him, Azmere continued to navigate his way along this path. He seemed to only be able to see two main points of focus and both were ahead of him. One that seemed near was a giant tree whose appearance seemed to shift every time the toxic fog passed across it. The second was very far away but it gave off the impression of a light shining from a hill. Te closer he got to the tree, the more he heard the sounds around him. A cacophony rose higher and higher into the wind which carried it to greater levels of clashing disorder. Birds and beasts, bugs and men all wailed and beat their chests in anger and frustration. The wind cried murder and the women and children screamed for solace.
The dog stopped. Instinctively, his ears pinned themselves down to his head but not out of an impending threat or change in the melody. No. The pause was for Azmere’s heart. It broke to hear so much sorrow and not just once but over and over again. He looked down and pieces of his heart began to fall into the soil where greedy hands stole them below the surface. As more fell, Azmere fought back and gulped up what fragments he could. He used his clawed feet to dig at and retrieve a few more. The crisis was averted and he knew it bet to continue onward. The enormous tree loomed ever closer and its shadow began to swallow everything. Despite his heartache and despite his fear, Azmere jogged ahead for the tree carrying the broken pieces of his heart in his mouth.
Textbox courtesy of Firenze
