Cold Hearth [Kraktus] Feb 23, 2020 19:40:18 GMT -6
Post by Saizomaru on Feb 23, 2020 19:40:18 GMT -6
Saizomaru PL: 175,000 (BASE)
The Frozen North. Cold and frigid just like any other time of the year. The peak of Mount Frappe was bleak, lifeless and empty save for the occasional mountain goat. The sky was clear yet hinting of a dull grey, the fog of the snow upon the sun’s warmth leaving a thin veil of mist upon the plateau. The slow winds occasionally picked up in a chilling gust, echoing a high-pitched whistling noise through the holed and jagged rocks in the area. The smell of ozone was noticeable what with the altitude being so high.
The sound of crunching snow reverberated within the vast void of white and brown. Saizomaru landed upon the cliff edge, feet sinking slightly upon the white blanket beneath him. In his arms he carried a bundle of dead branches and dried leaves attained from the lower sections of the mountain where the vegetation could grow more easily. His feet carried him on towards a small campfire he had ignited earlier, its flames flickering only several inches from the pyre. Hunching down, he let the bundle fall upon the flames. It didn’t take but a moment for the embers to spark the wood and foliage, quickly escalating into a foot or two of flames.
He circled round to the side and lowered himself down upon a large, dead trunk of a tree, arms resting upon his lap and hunched over. His eyes, dead and soulless, gazed into the flames of the pyre. Thoughts and emotions raced through his head—How could he have lost his family again and so soon? Why was he not there to prevent it from happening like any good father would do for their only son? How could he have let the dragon balls be taken from him so suddenly and without warning by some unknown thief? Why could he not be strong enough to be able to protect those that he loved the most? With those thoughts came a cascading wave of sadness, then sorrow, then regret, then frustration, then anger.
Then, black. The unrelenting, unforgiving pitch of darkness overtook his mind, leaving him within a void of planning and conception. His thoughts went back to the pages of unsigned books and rope-bound books that were not to be read unless absolutely necessary. He remembered back to when he was crowned the seventh successor and was free to look through them. Upon the texts were talks of dark and evil energies, demonic power and prowess to which was never openly discussed within the familial forum. Talks of demonic powers, the forces of which all demons are created from, the power to bind that energy to one’s will, and the Demon Realm itself.
Yet those words rung through his head once more. The Black Sheep. The Betrayer. The Demon God of the Black Forest.
Was that truly the best way for him to gain power? Did he have to follow the path of the one who forsook the legacy of Mushou-Ryuu all in the quest for more power? Was he truly prepared to walk it?
The more Saizomaru thought about it, the more he began to entertain that notion, the more he began to see the promise of it…