Auriel_
Lover
[Music]
In very usual fashion, Arike bit off more than he could chew. The story is likely to end here because of his neverending crusades into the Netherrealm where he sought death countless times as he simply couldn't fathom or deal with the fact that Crusade genuinely wasn't who he needed him to be and the Valiant was corrupting his mind as their doctrines parted, their lives and lifestyles being immensely different. Their values about as similar as life and death. The crux for Lyssain's decision.
"Ah.. so, I wasn't left alone. The sins I've committed, it's strange - that anyone would travel here."
A conversation, between two generations. There was a dimming light in those eyes, like embers. Like a dying forge.
"This truly makes me smile. It's been so long since I've seen humanity- is it.. something you needed? Ah.."
A conversation, between two generations. There was a dimming light in those eyes, like embers. Like a dying forge.
"This truly makes me smile. It's been so long since I've seen humanity- is it.. something you needed? Ah.."
The conversation might well have been both the longest and shortest talks to be had in the Netherrealm; advice and some diction, as well as some dying laughter being imparted onto the one who visited him in his last days, last hours, really. The dark state of the Crusader was evident but not as if it stopped him from animating himself, making himself at least viable - helpful. Some mild coughs viable as some ichor trickled down past his gorget, followed by some genuinely joyous cackling before a howl overtook it, leaving the man who stood before him possibly fazed by this. In the next moment would be the ending of a life, before the gasps overtook the once unstoppable. The bright essence taking form over his head for perhaps the last devout of the one true war god, the corona of the Dominus; allowing the echoes of soothing towards He who had come; the one who had not forgotten.
"You must go now, it is not safe here. His influence is still .. present.
Be happy and well, Crusader."
Be happy and well, Crusader."
Be it in seeking Arike or simply for adventure or crusade into it, the lifeless body of the Crusader can be found - helmet slid down, there'd be no saving them; even if the fits of life and death, this one so resilient and stalwart being saved by the God Of War, Dominus Bellum, in text. The choking smog of the hellscape one may travel into is almost too much as one goes as far as this one did. Around the epicenter of the conflict lay countless charred bodies of daemon spawn - a shattered structured whose two bladed arms were chopped or seemingly cracked. It's evident that a battle occurred here, and, upon further inspection, the Crusader's head inclined down to his hand, bloodied and still, holding a singular star. It shines brightly in his hand, although dimmed as his memories were sucked in it - taking a dark sanguine hue, unbeknownst to whoever would grasp.
The blade of the aforementioned wither skeletal was in fact cracked off in the side of Arike, this most likely is what sent him to the by-and-by. An irony for anyone who knew him personally, who knew him before his life truly began. Where his corpse rests, multiple weapons signature only to him lays unused and .. oddly pristine - as if the man was prepared to grant this to the next in coming. Near him rests a single piece of jewelry, a loved one, probably. Some devout of Sallana gave such to him, urging him to return. That would not be the case, but it signified hope, somehow. Woe unto the crusader, for he finally met his match. That being, himself, and his foolish mind. Though, at least he would not die alone as he thought. His final thoughts were of the grey fields, righteous brotherhood, and a dual-handed, double-bladed ax being slung down to the ground before him - drenched in ichor. Finally - the crusader was home.
"Warmaster; do you hear me now?"
