Stone Circle in a battle, that's all you get
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
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Ooc — delaney
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part i of ii?

the day had been like any other, the night following the same monotone routines.

the threadbones had been quiet; as the voices of the commanders. sated by some unforseen force.

or so ingram had dully chosen to believe!

tucked away, sleep had taken him with ease.

and held him tight!

in slumber the gods rouse. in slumber they call to ingram.

his dream, nothing particular of note before shifts suddenly. sharply!

he finds himself in the nether-realm; fog thick and choking as it writhes to life 'round him. sleepdrunk, ingram struggles to make sense of words being whispered to him, each repeat of them drilling into his skull like a cutting knife.

a low growl rumbles 'round him: from a god or from him he is not sure.

a scale made out of ribcage morphs into being as the fog thins, revealing only this. a stone heart and a bloodied feather of ma'at.

he awakes then. suddenly. with a violent start; heart thumping wildly against it's own prison of flesh and blood, a feeling of dread nesting itself in the empty cavern of his chest.

death stalks closely behind him, he knows. has tied itself to him in ways that ingram suspects was wrought to him upon birth. worripa. war reaper. a few deep breaths of icy night air help to clear his head.

he rises to his paws and slips out of kvarsheim's borders without word, without fuss; path set, knowing exactly who he must give the grim prophecy to.

dreading it with every step.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette