Rise Of Pandora

Rise Of Pandora: XII. Their Dreary Paths

"Why must I always fight!"

-Baccus Obryn

II. Poet

With Maddard over his left shoulder and his black sword in his right hand, the masked man walked across the forest. He often looked in the direction of the sky and saw glimpses of these large black figures flying in the air. The Shadowbirds were flying north, casting their oppressive darkness over the forest so much so that the man could hardly see. The eye holes of the mysterious man's mask began brimming with red light as the darkness hovered over him. With a breath of relief, he began to walk around with much better visibility than better, despite the daunting darkness downtrodding the forest. They were intimidating, those horrid birds. Peeking past the opening of the trees, he absorbed all the information he could manage. He studied everything from their numbers which ranged far beyond what he could count to the intimidating sizes many of them boasted. The darkening of the forest prevailed as those menacing Shadowbirds flocked overhead in startling numbers.  

Just as he looked back down, he could not help but notice swarms of flames blazing and moving about sporadically in the distance. He knew what they were so he resolved to be careful. He could hear the incessant stomping of what he believed to be Deathknights and the beasts they rode on. They were charging in his direction but he knew he had to be clever and not draw any attention. 

"Damn," He muttered underneath his breath. Holding Maddard for so long weakened him to the point where he was more so limping rather than walking. But, he pushed through the exhaustion and ambled over to a place where the Deathknights nor Shadowbirds could travel. Behind rows after rows of trees, he walked perpendicular to where the Deathknights were charging from. Feeling that he was now at a comfortable distance, he stopped and put Maddard down on the snow so that he could feed his pained lungs with fresh air. He lifted his hand and pressed it against the mask which began to detach and harden. He dragged it off and hooked it back onto his necklace. He breathed in and out desperately. His face was drenched in sweat. He clasped his hands together and rubbed them together, hoping to warm them. Sitting on the cold ground beside Maddard, he had a face that would suggest he was thinking. He found it difficult to see now.

Understanding that there was danger all around him, he knew it was wise to conserve his strength so he sat still and carefully watched as the hoards of Deathknights past the place he walked away from, a sweet air of relief exuding past his two crisp lips. 

He straightened his neck and flipped his face to the sky. The flocks of Shadowbirds overhead were passing and now so he could now see with the aid of some sunlight. He stuck out his tongue with the goal of landing some much-desired water. He opened his mouth and let some raindrops slip between his lips. He swallowed. He flexed his fingers, giving them a good stretch.

He bided his time until he felt the strength in his muscles returning. He took the mask off his necklace and placed it back on his face. As before, he held the mask there until it began festering over his face, growing into a shapeless conglomerate of burbling bubbles which were black and fleshy until the mask became a solid veil over his face, silenced and still, dark and poised. He stood up and stretched his back and he did all of this without ever saying a word. The mask was unordinary and behaved as such. He lifted Maddard back up with some relative strength coursing through his body.

Trudging his feet against the deeper mounds of snow, he advanced forward with his dark sword in hand and Maddard hanging over his shoulder. He did not make much noise. He grunted and groaned every now and then but other than this, he made little noise and spoke never.

His face was now concealed under the unordinary black mask. It mutated and rows of exposed teeth began forming over his mouth. The mask merged into the very skin of his face until only his eyes were showing. 

He peered ahead at the directions where the Deathknights were. The way in which he looked at things was accompanied by an ambiguous apprehension. With his mask now securely placed over his face, he walked with more confidence. He breathed seldom as he walked. 

A small rustle resonated from his right side. He immediately reared his head to see what the source of the noise was. Past a row of trees, he made he saw a deer. It was walking to where he was. Noticing its injuries, he calmly stepped out of her path. The side of her belly was covered with blood. He glared at her as she walked past him. She fastened her eyes upon him. 

Through the eyeholes of his mask, it was clear there was a sadness he felt towards the creature. It showed through his eyes. He mindlessly extended his hand out towards the creature with the blade pointed down. He quickly thought upon this and quickly retreated his arm. The passing creature released her gaze from him and continued onward to some unclear destination. He too began to walk away. With a dreary bleakness, the two parted down their dreary paths.