Avatar of Destruction
”Why does it have to be on god’s forsaken tallest, and coldest mountain of Fiore. Why not a tropical island?” said Mufasa against no one but himself. Mufasa hated the cold but to reach the guild of Errings Rising he had to climb these mountains. He would rather stroll through the desert sands of Desierto to find it. Fortunate for Mufasa, he had fire magic and was quick to set himself on fire to keep warm. His flames danced around him in the colours of golden, red, purple, and blue; melting the snow where he walked, creating a path of ice when the molten snow froze solid in the cold hauling winds. It did not take long for the icy trail to be hidden from view the snow of the blizzard, a slippery slide awaited those who would step upon it.
The ancient old warlock, Mufasa, certainly looked good for his age. Rather youthful even, in his late twenties. Those that first meet him might assume he was from Midi or Dongxia, those that guessed the later would be correct. Born in that country, before it was unified during the semi-mythical events known as the Years of Blood and the Battle of a Thousand knives. The warlock wore black shoes, black pantaloon and a black overcoat with the front open. The inside of the overcoat was made of golden satin. Underneath he wore a black shirt with a long neck and long sleeves and over that he wore a more traditional garb for Dongxia, or for that matter even Midian. A piece of clothing worn like a kimono, golden in colour but its edge was black with white detail. Around his waist, to secure everything was a black band from hung a twisting sword with a grip made of skulls. The blade was accompanied by a smaller sibling, both were sheathed in black leather with golden ornaments. His skin was lighter than the average Dongxian, his eyes were amber of colour and slitted like a cat. A think line of eyeliner surrounded his eyes and underneath his eyes were three lines of glittering gold. His hair golden and shaved on the sides of his head. A piercing adorned his left ear and around his neck hung a bunch of golden chains, the longest of which shaped like a twisting sword with a bursting eye.
His reasoning to join Errings Rising was of a selfish reason. It was purely for fun really. Errings Rising was a guild that was against the established authorities, it was for anarchy and anarchy was something Mufasa liked and he loved causing trouble for the authorities. The strange thing about the guild, however, was that it was ruled by a queen, hypocritical but perhaps he could make use of that; to farther his own advances. The guild would also surround him with people, people that could adore him, envy him, or loathe him. He liked the attention, it was craving like hunger or thirst that demands to be satisfied.
Slowly a new peak came dooming before him, but it was not a mountain. A mighty fortress pulled up from grey granite blocks stood tall within the whirling winds and snow. From its windows and arrow slits came glow light from hundreds of candles and braziers, giving life to the otherwise dead-looking edifice. The warlock approached the gatehouse of the mighty structure. Scraping his voice, ”Behold! Mufasa Fabien has arrived. Be rejoiced, for I share warmth in this dammed cold.” His colourful flames roared and spiralled up and formed dozens of coloured flames around him. The danced like bees around the beehive.
The ancient old warlock, Mufasa, certainly looked good for his age. Rather youthful even, in his late twenties. Those that first meet him might assume he was from Midi or Dongxia, those that guessed the later would be correct. Born in that country, before it was unified during the semi-mythical events known as the Years of Blood and the Battle of a Thousand knives. The warlock wore black shoes, black pantaloon and a black overcoat with the front open. The inside of the overcoat was made of golden satin. Underneath he wore a black shirt with a long neck and long sleeves and over that he wore a more traditional garb for Dongxia, or for that matter even Midian. A piece of clothing worn like a kimono, golden in colour but its edge was black with white detail. Around his waist, to secure everything was a black band from hung a twisting sword with a grip made of skulls. The blade was accompanied by a smaller sibling, both were sheathed in black leather with golden ornaments. His skin was lighter than the average Dongxian, his eyes were amber of colour and slitted like a cat. A think line of eyeliner surrounded his eyes and underneath his eyes were three lines of glittering gold. His hair golden and shaved on the sides of his head. A piercing adorned his left ear and around his neck hung a bunch of golden chains, the longest of which shaped like a twisting sword with a bursting eye.
His reasoning to join Errings Rising was of a selfish reason. It was purely for fun really. Errings Rising was a guild that was against the established authorities, it was for anarchy and anarchy was something Mufasa liked and he loved causing trouble for the authorities. The strange thing about the guild, however, was that it was ruled by a queen, hypocritical but perhaps he could make use of that; to farther his own advances. The guild would also surround him with people, people that could adore him, envy him, or loathe him. He liked the attention, it was craving like hunger or thirst that demands to be satisfied.
Slowly a new peak came dooming before him, but it was not a mountain. A mighty fortress pulled up from grey granite blocks stood tall within the whirling winds and snow. From its windows and arrow slits came glow light from hundreds of candles and braziers, giving life to the otherwise dead-looking edifice. The warlock approached the gatehouse of the mighty structure. Scraping his voice, ”Behold! Mufasa Fabien has arrived. Be rejoiced, for I share warmth in this dammed cold.” His colourful flames roared and spiralled up and formed dozens of coloured flames around him. The danced like bees around the beehive.
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