» A New Frontier

Take just what I came for The entangling mists, the shrouds of vines, the chaotic, endless embrace of paths that led onto eternity, onto condemnation, onto nothingness, were eerily familiar, cast-offs from another time, another place. The other habitual lance was Kaos’ presence, eldritch and otherworldly, combing through his earthen lair, praising them for their explorations. Erebos wanted to do naught more than spit out his vitriol, his rage, his abhorrence into the dark, watch it slice off a bramble, a thorn, a figment of the deity’s shell, but he knew better, understood all too well the value of patience, the fermenting of time. Vengeance required patience, revenge required tact, and justice required more than just him now – but all the lives affected by the brutality, by the one-sided war, by the crusade that led to slaughter and oblivion. His eyes searched the crowd for familiar beings, others he might be able to coax, to entice, into unraveling the hellion before them – to share their knowledge of the newfound lands, to piece together a way to lacerate the enemy. He didn’t recognize any; but that could mean very little. After a while, all their souls, all their figures, all their lives might intermingle, clash, bite, and flail – because he had very little hope that Kaos would prove to be anything but disaster and ruin, and had every intention of pushing all that immorality, all that barbarity, all that savagery back upon him.   So he and Orsino maneuvered closer, like mere slivers of the crowd, fragments concealing daggers, rapiers, and knives, just awaiting those few, precious opportunities to strike. He didn’t draw attention to himself, didn’t cast his voice into the masses, didn’t float to the forefront to try and pluck the being’s eyes out – but brooded and brewed in a wealth of composure, forbearance, and restraint, as if he’d been chiseled and sculpted for the foreboding bloodshed all his life.

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