between the shadows and the soul - warship and killdare

[Warship]

come back with your shield, or on it

He had lost track of how many times he had stared death in the face. The first time he had cowered on the ground, staring into the depthless eyes as the labored breaths rattled in his lungs. He had been saved that time by Eight and his ancient magic. Eight had placed a band-aid on the wound death had inflicted, giving him a half life, but a life nonetheless. He was walking and talking and breathing, and most importantly the Chamber still had him. The second time though, he had all but spit in deaths face…and paid the price for his idiocy. Death had not taken him, but instead left his mark on him to carry forever.

Within the confines of the Chamber, deaths foul magic had no hold. A combination of Eights power and the power from the Chamber itself kept his ailment at bay, though he would feel it as soon as he stepped over the border. It was a tingling sensation, neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Eventually though the tingle turned to pain as flesh turned to waste. He had only experienced the situation on his way home from purgatory, but it wasn’t something he was eager to face again. Each sip of water spilled from his mouth freely. Grass that had once meant life choked him as the wasted muscles of his esophagus struggled to force it down. His sight became blurry as his eyes shriveled in their sockets. It drained him both physically and mentally. The thought of losing his mental and physical capabilities scared him, despite his inability to admit it out loud. It was there in the back of his mind, always.

“Shut up, bird brain…” he grumbled, shaking his head to dislodge the bird perched on his horn. It did little good, for the bird only cawed in response and steadfastly hung on. “Fine. You can stay, but shut the hell up.” The General found himself in a sour disposition, even more so than usual. The foray into purgatory had literally been a trip to hell and back. So with his lips turned down in a frown he followed the birds direction, heading towards Straia’s call. It doesn’t take him long to find the queen and lord, already huddled together. He said nothing on arrival, but merely nodded his fine head towards the both of them. There was no time for formalities and small talk, and frankly, he was beyond over the bullshit. “We’ve talked in circles too long. Talking gets us nowhere and nothing put weary ears. I agree with Killdare; its high time to lay the Gates to rest.” Another grimace, deeper than he commonplace frown. “There is in issue with leaving the Chamber, though it effects only me. Follow me to the border and I’ll show you.” He didn’t wait to see if they followed, but simply took off in the direction of the nearest border. It didn’t take long, and soon he had stepped over the magical, invisible line. As soon as he did the tingling sensation came, and the skin of his face began to slough off. Soon there was bone and a gruesome view of the inner workings of his mouth. “Due to a recent journey, I’ve been touched by death. As long as I am in the Chamber the curse will not work. When I cross the border, this happens. I won’t die, but I will also not be completely capable.” he said as he crossed back over the border, shaking his head as the flesh grew back over the bone. “So while its not perhaps ideal to bring them here, I’d much prefer being able to use all of our facilities, one of which is me. And we know this land, know the pines and the rocks. We are accustomed to the fog and darkness here, where it may hinder those not native. And as Killdare said, if they are here, that gives us a chance to slip through the forest and attack their home.” He wasn’t sure how Straia and Killdare would react to his new affliction, but he felt it best they know what could happen to him.

-warship