Lorgan the Deathless
Lorgan , the Deathless
A sun, so bright and clear in the sky, burning, illuminating, inescapable. Fields, crops, growth, life. A distant creature brays and is answered by its kind and by myself. Laughter, joy, running, laughing, spreading through the fields. Home. Warmth, comfort, safety. The faces are unclear, the memory of them is filled with an empty aching. Darkness draws in, and sleep follows.
A sudden boom.
Waking, rushing, leaving. The sky overhead black, as it should be, cloudless, starless. A pit of cold unlight arcs across the sky, and falls to the ground. Stillness, the world holding its breath in anticipation. And then darkness, a darkness that presses in from all sides, crushing, smothering, comforting. The darkness calls to us, pulls us toward it, an irresistible force. It seems hours before the realisation that we are not floating toward it but stumbling, tripping, crawling through a land that crumbles under us.
Sudden Seperation, our body lies on the ground below, we, something else, not our body, something innately us, are free floating away, pulled into the great endless pit of unlight. Just as sudden, pulled short, leashed, chained, by bonds made of that unlight. We struggle against them, shaking, wriggling, our form rippling and reforming in desperation to join the unlight. But the noose tightens, pulls us back, binds us into ourselves once again. Why? We are surrounded by death, loss, grief, anger so much anger, why can we not be released, why can we not join them?
The memory burns us. Something inside writhes in pain. Familiarity?
An unfamiliar land, one we recognise, a ruin, a desert, devastation, lifeless. Forests, farms, villages, populations, reduced to ash. And yet, looking upon it, we feel nothing. Dissonance. Hollow, emptiness where grief ought to be. We walk on.
A city. How long after is this memory? How far apart were the others? The pool of memory is so deep and vast that it is hard to tell. A bowing supplicant. "Teach me" they beg. We lash out, sending them reeling with our self, not our body. "Power must be taken!" We lie. The great black bell overhead tolls. We pull them apart, and a writhing black thing remains in their place.
A city. A self. Tendrils of blackness that flow like water through ourstreets. A thousand eyes, a thousand mouths, a thousand selves. All bound to themselves, all bound to us. But we are no longer alone. At the fringes of our senses, other powers grow in Darkness of their own making.
The lion comes. Weak. Posturing as though we cannot see the fear behind its eyes. We cannot bind it to us...yet. But we do not need that to dominate its will. It talks of the land of its birth, of rights and glories it is owed. Yes, this one will be useful to us.
Panic. Crumbling. We should never have allowed the abomination inside our walls. The black bell tolls a final time as it crushes the life from our bones.
A moment of relief. The bonds are broken, the shackles released, and we are free once more, to leave the broken body behind and join the unlight.
And then the moment passes, and the abomination hauls us out of the rubble, and opens its maw.
Current Location
Ethnicity
Date of Death
1st of July
Life
53 BU
454 KS
507 years old
Circumstances of Death
Killed by The Devourer.
Place of Death
Family
Children
Gender
Male
Ruled Locations
Depicted In
