He was disgusted by his own mortality. Disgusted by the unilateral tremble of his body, the fear coursing through his veins like liquid lightning. By the way he cowered before his father in trepidation of what was to come. He was ignominious in his transience, forced to consider the nature of his existence and the weakness of his own bone and sinew. As he admitted the coming of his demise, he was forced into the admission of all the faults and miscalculations that had led to his very position - even before his fall. Even as a god, he'd made mortal mistakes - he would have to transcend further to achieve divinity and to enact his righteous purpose.
But he had said he was no longer a tool. So what would that purpose be?
It seemed the world would allow him to answer that question, as the stench of loosened around him and Kaladin found himself, panting, upon his knees, almost genuflect in the face of his now immaterial fears. The stench of rotting carcasses and iron seemed to cling to his skin, however, and he felt through the cold in his veins that the danger only just beginning. As he rose shakily to his hooves, the claustrophobic darkness around him began to reverberate with the mocking laughter of the Shaman. However, Kaladin stood his ground, stubbornly refusing to be taunted by the derision of the ethereal creature. "When I get my hands on that relic," he told the disembodied cackling, "I am going to kick your ghostly arse to kingdom come."
A flicker of white in his peripheral informed him that the ghoul was not quite as unearthly as it pretended. He willed himself to move after the creature, his every fiber now tensed in apprehension. It must use some form of magic, he reasoned. It is creating illusions in order to frighten me away. Which means that it must be guarding something. It was a small but tangible realization to cling to - he was on the right track. And it appeared that the Shaman was in no way done with him.
When he rounded another corner, the Shaman vanished again - instead, he was faced with a large, flickering replica of his own cursed collar. It was a powerful conjuring, and felt strongly of his father's death-magic - but Kaladin did not allow himself to be cowed this time, despite the shudders that ran along his spine. As it hurtled towards him, he dodged aside, his alarm somehow willing the real collar around his neck into a bright burst of blue. He dodged aside, attention whipping from the collar out to the dark of the maze around him, from where the jeering laughter of the Shaman rang out once more. "Enough illusions, creature!" he called out. His eyes flickered as he attempted to catch sight of the white wraith once more. At the same time, he came to a realization - that he was playing a game, and that the tactics were beginning to seem hauntingly familiar. "We are alike, you and I," he realized, panting. "We cannot fight, so we use our minds instead. But you cannot fool me." he cocked his head, forcing a grin in the direction of the darkness even as he was faced with the horrors of his waking dreams. "So, what are you hiding?"
@Random Events
But he had said he was no longer a tool. So what would that purpose be?
It seemed the world would allow him to answer that question, as the stench of loosened around him and Kaladin found himself, panting, upon his knees, almost genuflect in the face of his now immaterial fears. The stench of rotting carcasses and iron seemed to cling to his skin, however, and he felt through the cold in his veins that the danger only just beginning. As he rose shakily to his hooves, the claustrophobic darkness around him began to reverberate with the mocking laughter of the Shaman. However, Kaladin stood his ground, stubbornly refusing to be taunted by the derision of the ethereal creature. "When I get my hands on that relic," he told the disembodied cackling, "I am going to kick your ghostly arse to kingdom come."
A flicker of white in his peripheral informed him that the ghoul was not quite as unearthly as it pretended. He willed himself to move after the creature, his every fiber now tensed in apprehension. It must use some form of magic, he reasoned. It is creating illusions in order to frighten me away. Which means that it must be guarding something. It was a small but tangible realization to cling to - he was on the right track. And it appeared that the Shaman was in no way done with him.
When he rounded another corner, the Shaman vanished again - instead, he was faced with a large, flickering replica of his own cursed collar. It was a powerful conjuring, and felt strongly of his father's death-magic - but Kaladin did not allow himself to be cowed this time, despite the shudders that ran along his spine. As it hurtled towards him, he dodged aside, his alarm somehow willing the real collar around his neck into a bright burst of blue. He dodged aside, attention whipping from the collar out to the dark of the maze around him, from where the jeering laughter of the Shaman rang out once more. "Enough illusions, creature!" he called out. His eyes flickered as he attempted to catch sight of the white wraith once more. At the same time, he came to a realization - that he was playing a game, and that the tactics were beginning to seem hauntingly familiar. "We are alike, you and I," he realized, panting. "We cannot fight, so we use our minds instead. But you cannot fool me." he cocked his head, forcing a grin in the direction of the darkness even as he was faced with the horrors of his waking dreams. "So, what are you hiding?"
@Random Events
