When the Shaman came, the world darkened. In the same instant, the jewel upon Kaladin's collar flickered to life, the sole beacon of light amongst the approaching gloom, a lone star to the waking night. Kaladin met the Shaman's mocking gaze with his own irreverent ambers, unyielding now in the face of unraveling mystery. If this was his trial to face, so be it, he thought. If he needed to put a knife through this pale specter's chest, so be it - but he would not bow. He was too near his own divinity now.
When the creature spoke, it sounded almost like Kaladin. A young, clear voice like a tolling bell, yet laden with unplaced years and shrouded in enigma, daring one to guess and fail at where it could come from. Kaladin knew that sound too well - it was the pompous arrogance of one thinking himself above the universe's laws. This creature, this Shaman, it was an agent of chaos, one come to rend apart what order was left in this nigh-anarchic world. But Kaladin would be forced to rely on the instability left by the shrouded entity. If he were to win the game, he would have to play it.
The Shaman turned, parchment-like skin nearly translucent in the light cast by Kaladin's collar. Should it have been another time, he might have begun to analyze the creature's existence, debate on which hole had sprung up such an unholy being, on whether it was cast or created. But now was not the time - for as the Shaman led on, the world around Kaladin began to grow colder and colder. For some time, the Shaman's icy hide remained in view - just a faint beacon, a reminder that Kaladin had crossed the threshold of the mortal world into something far more spiritual. Then, as they neared another fork and turn in the rode, the mist thickened and the beast vanished.
Kaladin paused, his breath misting before him as he considered his next path. He had not realized what a relief it had been to have companionship, feeble as it was, until it had disappeared. "Fantastic," he muttered to himself. He found himself smiling morbidly, akin to a prisoner awaiting execution for his crimes. He shook his head and continued back in the direction the Shaman had vanished to. He was not giving up now.
Something moved in the fog, and Kaladin's head shot up. "Fantastic. Thank you, Ghosty, for no - " he froze, ice suddenly rushing through his veins. The figure approaching was distinctly familiar, and most certainly not the Shaman. It was carved of obsidian stone, merciless raven wings tipped with silvered mist, spread to cover what little light remained above them. Hooves trailing blood on the earth, nostrils flared and eyes glowing - glowing like two lamplights, casting divine judgment upon whatever they struck.
"F - father..." Kaldin's hooves crunched against the grass, digging up dirt as he began to shuffle back, collar now flared bright in alarm and pupils dilating. "Father, I - I haven't -" But the figure continued to advance, judge and executioner with the sentence passed, closer and closer, now so close that Kaladin could feel its death-laced breaths against his face, his eyes forced to slits and nearly blind against the light cast by its eyes. "No! I'm not going to be trapped again! Not by you, not by anyone - " Closer and closer. He thought he could feel the press of tomb-stones against his shoulders. "No, please - please, I can't go back." Voice fading to a whisper now. Closer, closer, closer.Knees buckling beneath him in submission.
"I won't go back!" Kaladin lashed out, a final, futile rebellion against the oncoming storm. "I am no longer your tool to use!"
And he closed his eyes.
BRIEF EXPLANATION: Kaladin's father locked him in a tomb for eight-hundred years before he escaped, and his greatest fear is his father coming back to lock him up again.
@Random Events (please ignore if this is too late)
When the creature spoke, it sounded almost like Kaladin. A young, clear voice like a tolling bell, yet laden with unplaced years and shrouded in enigma, daring one to guess and fail at where it could come from. Kaladin knew that sound too well - it was the pompous arrogance of one thinking himself above the universe's laws. This creature, this Shaman, it was an agent of chaos, one come to rend apart what order was left in this nigh-anarchic world. But Kaladin would be forced to rely on the instability left by the shrouded entity. If he were to win the game, he would have to play it.
The Shaman turned, parchment-like skin nearly translucent in the light cast by Kaladin's collar. Should it have been another time, he might have begun to analyze the creature's existence, debate on which hole had sprung up such an unholy being, on whether it was cast or created. But now was not the time - for as the Shaman led on, the world around Kaladin began to grow colder and colder. For some time, the Shaman's icy hide remained in view - just a faint beacon, a reminder that Kaladin had crossed the threshold of the mortal world into something far more spiritual. Then, as they neared another fork and turn in the rode, the mist thickened and the beast vanished.
Kaladin paused, his breath misting before him as he considered his next path. He had not realized what a relief it had been to have companionship, feeble as it was, until it had disappeared. "Fantastic," he muttered to himself. He found himself smiling morbidly, akin to a prisoner awaiting execution for his crimes. He shook his head and continued back in the direction the Shaman had vanished to. He was not giving up now.
Something moved in the fog, and Kaladin's head shot up. "Fantastic. Thank you, Ghosty, for no - " he froze, ice suddenly rushing through his veins. The figure approaching was distinctly familiar, and most certainly not the Shaman. It was carved of obsidian stone, merciless raven wings tipped with silvered mist, spread to cover what little light remained above them. Hooves trailing blood on the earth, nostrils flared and eyes glowing - glowing like two lamplights, casting divine judgment upon whatever they struck.
"F - father..." Kaldin's hooves crunched against the grass, digging up dirt as he began to shuffle back, collar now flared bright in alarm and pupils dilating. "Father, I - I haven't -" But the figure continued to advance, judge and executioner with the sentence passed, closer and closer, now so close that Kaladin could feel its death-laced breaths against his face, his eyes forced to slits and nearly blind against the light cast by its eyes. "No! I'm not going to be trapped again! Not by you, not by anyone - " Closer and closer. He thought he could feel the press of tomb-stones against his shoulders. "No, please - please, I can't go back." Voice fading to a whisper now. Closer, closer, closer.Knees buckling beneath him in submission.
"I won't go back!" Kaladin lashed out, a final, futile rebellion against the oncoming storm. "I am no longer your tool to use!"
And he closed his eyes.
BRIEF EXPLANATION: Kaladin's father locked him in a tomb for eight-hundred years before he escaped, and his greatest fear is his father coming back to lock him up again.
@Random Events (please ignore if this is too late)
