I HAVE BECOME DEATH
the destroyer of worlds
TAGGED: ... | WORDS: 1100 | NOTES: ...
From the lands of Savage Skull, ash floated toward the territory of Neutral Grounds, carried by the gentle current of the wind. It fluttered, twisted, and danced, until it crossed over the barrier that marked the magic-less lands from the magic. Forced into a state of cancellation, it swirled up into a spiraling, small-scale tornado, then dispersed in a puff outward. At the center of the fallen ash stood a crimson-cloaked man, the red dots of his eyes staring into the sea of wasteland in front of him. Before him was nothing, only dirt and small villages skirting the mega-city that was just beyond their short structures. The man paid no mind to the bustling city beyond, but kept his attention on the village resting at the front. His boots crunched the dirt as his feet carried him toward his destination, eyes never once blinking in fear of losing sight of the place.
Death's first mission rested in the Neutral Grounds of Earthland; a fated destiny of a man and his crops ready for harvest. As this man set foot into the village, his eyes would sweep the vacancy of the place, and he would continue forth. All was silent, and not a single villager could be seen, but Marcel cared not as to where the people were. This small town was not his main target, it was of a place within in this area that was to be taken down for Death. Dirt crunched beneath combat boots, the man passing through the center of the settlement, feeling eyes from windows boring onto him. He picked and plucked at the collar of his cloak, though it stayed put, where it was hiding half of his face. Once the hamlet was behind him, the fiery oculars of the mage rested upon a tiny home, just beyond his standing point.
Marcel took steps toward the farmland, eyes set dead upon the green crops that waved with the brush of a breeze. His orbs narrowed until the abysses were gone, and all that was staring at the crops were two dots of fire. Before long, the man was stepping foot onto the gravel driveway of Mr. Jekis, and around him, the world began to die. Not so much that his magic was at work, but his plans to burn the place to the ground were in the works. He made his way first toward the barn, deciding to get an idea of what the place looked like and how to go about his business. A barrel rested at the entrance of the barn, and set atop it was an unlit torch; quietly, Marcel picked the item up. It began to decay in his hand, and his eyes darted from the torch to look around for a source of fire.
Not far from where he stood was a slow-burning bonfire: pieces of rotten wood, leaves, and various other things encased in it. Holding tight to the torch, Marcel sauntered over to the bonfire and stuck the knobby end of it into the flames. He pulled it out after only a few seconds, eyes following the flow of fire, then he turned away and headed back to the barn. Through the entrance he ducked, the torch his only source of light, and noticed the piles of hay throughout the building. The loft was nothing, but hay, and the hay below were in piles around stalls that contained horses, sheep, and pigs. His weapon of choice crackled and sparked with fire, and he passed by the horses, who startled at the bright light. They gave out a loud whiny, in which Marcel stopped, turned toward them, and stared at them with malice in his eyes.
Angered that the creatures made a sound, the man stepped toward one of the stalls, and reached through the bars, touching the horse's nose. Nothing happened to the creature, which frustrated Marcel even more, and he whirled on his heels, away from it. These creatures would be nothing, but nuisances, so he would focus on the first pile of hay he had been walking to. Once there, he lit it on fire, watching as the flames licked at the dry grass and ignited it, consumed it. He moved onto the next stack, set that on fire, and made his rounds, till all of the piles were drenched in Death's doing. With the flames burning bright, the pigs and sheep began to make noise as well, alerting Mr. Jekis to Marcel's condemning. Ignoring their squeals, as he could do nothing about it, the mage exited the barn, just as the farmer came rushing at him.
Dots of flame darted toward Mr. Jekis, and Marcel pointed the burning torch at the farmer, who came running at him with a hoe. He could only chuckle as he threw the torch at him, where it struck the man and caught his clothing on fire. The farmer screamed in pain as the fire climbed his body and enveloped it, burning the skin and filling the air with the rancid scent of decaying flesh. Eyes flickered away from the dying man, down to the fallen torch, and the man picked it up, walking away from Mr. Jekis. Marcel paused at the first set of crops, threw the torch into the green forest of food, watching as it ignited into a blaze of fury. With his weapon now gone, the man resorted to parts of the bonfire, tearing the branches of fell trees from it and inflaming the rest of the crops with them. What he moved onto lastly was the farmhouse of Mr. Jekis, and he was quite curious to know what was inside of it.
He weaved his way past the fallen body of Mr. Jekis and toward the farmhouse, gripping a burning piece of wood in one hand. The steps creaked as he walked up them, alerting whoever was inside to his presence, and he pressed open the door. It was silent inside the home, and he would set the burning embers of wood on a side table that was near the door. Slowly, that table began to be consumed by the flames, them reaching out to the walls and other items around it. Marcel walked past them and looked through the rooms to see if anyone was in them, but found no one. With no one in sight, the man turned away and exited the burning home, calmly walking down the steps. Never looking back, the man began his journey back home and out of the Neutral Grounds, deciding he hated being magic-less.