First one harvested

Isla Amana was busy running tests on the Shadowlands' soils, too engrossed in her work to notice how close she has encroached
(Isla Amana)

Upon a tree the Great Avian was, next to him? A necromancer and an Imperfect.. Everyone who scanned the surroundings of their domain, every single one.. Who was making sure the place remained safe for their kin.

Indeed.

But the truth was, that they were there hunting and well, not long after they began doing so, someone approached - a figure who collected samples and flaunted.. Aen's cape. A jump was given and the being started to fly, before landing in front of Isla..

With quite the glamour upon his approach.

Yet.. Its presence was as aggressive as what had touched the ground of the Shadowlands, to leave in the state it was in. The miasma that emanated from him was suffocating and clearly not pleasing to mortals - while its appearance, that of a demonic bird.. It was all twisted and mutated, with countless eyes on its wings and body, as well as tentacles emerging from some parts.

Not.. Something one want to find across a place such as this.

This being however, as abominable as he was, is Sak'noth and he had set his innumerable eyes on the figure of Amana, a prey.. Who had gone a little too far, into the lands of the demons.

Into his territory.

"It didn't expect to see a worm as unpleasant as this one stepping on my soil, digging around - however, this world always reserves innumerable surprises for me with each passing day, unusual things.

Always happen.

You are quite a long way from your island, flea of Aen." The voice echoed, though not verbally - but mentally.. in the heads of those who were present.

Those who could see them.. Those, that had their presence felt by the colossal demon.

"Tell me.. What brings you so far, certainly a special reason - however, I have my doubts, as your people tend to meddle in what they are not called.

Most of the time.." He added as he approached, ever so slowly..

And with every step he took, the world around them was affected! This one cracked, this one split in half - opening gaps in reality, from where eyes could be seen.. Demonic creatures, ready to come to serve their demon lord.
(Sak'noth)
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[18:22] The Imperfect watches in silence.

Rather content to see Sak'noth handle it instead, Varrach figures that he doesn't really need to get involved for the time being- besides, this may be yet another thing that pushes Sak'noth towards further ascension.

No words for now.

Only observation.
(Varrach)
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[18:27] The siren remained quiet, watching what was going on with those boring deep blue ocean eyes.

There are no abrupt moves.

Merely keeping an eye on their friend and assisting them where he could.

Perhaps this was something he had to deal with using only his own power.

Something to drive him past his limits.
(Wra'gul)
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[18:31] Isla had remained crouched to the ground, muttering things to herself. The typically stone-faced lieutenant had twitched here or there. Something surely wracking her brain. Having been steeled for so long, for eleven years now. Had the wear and tear finally broken her shell?

One to have made a fatal error of advancing too deep into enemy territory alone? Not like others outside of Altear had any interest in giving hands on assistance to her cause.

Upon hearing the familiar demon's voice, Isla finally looked up, slowly rising. Her one good eye shifted towards the imperfect, and what's that Wra'gul? Ironic, all these talks of places he could be hiding, and he was where it was most obvious. But that wasn't the issue currently, she had a fel beast within tossing distance from her.

"Mm, well that plague demon's little stunt set me back to square one on my research. I need to understand how your presence corrupts..."

Her eye drifts towards the others and back once more.

"Going this deep was a...miscalculation."

Her face remained as stoic as ever, keeping mind of the recent briefing.

"I am surprised to see you three together frankly. Especially with Wra'gul's safehouse network, from the deserts to here. Surely soon enough her will try to undermine you. But you are busy looking for worms instead."
(Isla Amana)
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[18:42] How odd.

For when Isle speaks towards Sak'noth of such things, the Imperfect only listens- doing so ever quietly, a powerful presence of something deadly that just rests a distance away, without concerning himself to actually come closer.

And yet, when he speaks,
it reaches one's mind so easily.

It is almost akin to being whispered to- like the voice of the Imperfect is spoken right next to one's ear, crystal clear and without a single flaw to it; a powerful presence of telepathy and influence over the nearby minds being the reason why such is possible at all.

"-- ah."

"You wanted to learn of the corruption?"

To cleanse, more than likely. Varrach doesn't ask her, but he can already assume why she was searching for such answers; he could already understand why mortals were prone to look for such knowledge.

Even if it could lead them to such trouble.

"It is the reflection of the humanity's sin." He pauses.

"All of us- down to the last one- are a reflection of it. All of us, without exception. Though... I suppose every one of us has a different way of showing it."

That much is true. Every single demon pursued different ambition, different dream- different aspect to cover.

"And it is through this reflection that the land becomes corrupt, festering with the dark."

"Some of yours thrive in it, you know... though, Aen has a long history of purging such, does it not? I'm certain you already know that."

Varrach looks for something when he looks upon Isle. The crimson eyes are searching for it- perhaps for the reason why she came here, or why she was looking for this place specifically.

Perhaps, once he notices something, he finally speaks.

"-- Royce wanted for it, you know."

"What I did back in Abendrot. Thatmassacre, that destruction... that carnage."

"We made a promise to each other. One would decimate Meranthe in their name, should another fall."

Should she choose to believe such words, it's irrelevant. The Imperfect had no reason to lie- and most certainly even less reason to debate the truthfulness of such words.

Yet the drakanite earned for destruction,
even if it resulted in his death.

"Tell me-"

"Did you come here because you hear his voice echo, still?"

"Did you come here because he calls you from the other side?"
(Varrach)
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[18:43] Mortals believed they had an advantage and were always one step ahead of everyone else.

He made a shaky motion with his head.

Those dull deep blue ocean eyes have yet to depart from one of Aen's finest.

As snow descends from the sky, clouds darken, skelly fingers appear from the ground, and bodies rise to their feet, a blizzard is developing.

"You mongrels never fail to amaze me; you believe you're one step ahead when you're actually so lost."

The stench of death parading through the forest.

His severe and malicious comments linger in the air.
(Wra'gul)
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[18:46] At the display of certain courage, the being stopped - its head was twisted to the side, like an owl's. Before, its beak beat and the agonizing sound produced, echoed through the forest.

Many, many times.

Wra and Varrach stood to one side, watching. And so did he now as well, observing. It was unexpected for someone to act so calmly in front of them.. But mortals over the decades have forgotten what is to fear, forgotten what lurks in the nights.

They forgot, that there are things that are above them in that world.

"Ah, research.. Right, learning about the corruption of demons? Certainly intriguing.. If it weren't for what your people did, we could consider even..

Putting you in a cage and talking about it a lot, as I tend to expand my corrupting influence and even, I've already created a relic. We surely would have what to talk.

What.. To do together, as I'm a researcher myself." Due to the moment, the lull that it was - the voice was calm and his actions? Not as agressive such as when he first moved.

Of course, he would then walk again, circling her.. But nothing was done right away, nothing was conducted! An atack? Not yet done.. As, he was interested in at least talking a little.

Before the inevitable.

"Regardless, yes.. A terrible mistake, one that could end up costing you.. that what you call as a life. A small retribution for all that has happened relevant to your people and mine.

Countless were the demons whose lives were taken by Aen, it's just.. only fair to repay that, right? Of course." And so he stopped behind her, close enough for the ether emanating from his feathers..

To touch and be felt on the skin, almost like a flame.

"And well, we're together because.. We were working on certain things, until we decided.. To rest and as I am.. A bird, I love to look for.. Worms.

So.. We beganto hunt and found one!" A hand was extended and then claws were placed over Isla's head - unless, Isla reacted - "So how do we do this.. You can be smart, falling to your knees and accept what comes next..

Or.

We can do it the way you mortals love to do most of the time, a combat.. Until one of us.. Stop breathing." Again the beak tapped and the sound echoed.

However, without stopping this time.

Not.. Until the answer is given.
(Sak'noth)
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[18:50] Varrach asks, "..?"
[18:50] Wra'gul says, "-"
[18:50] Varrach takes the art. He likes seeing himself, apparently.
(Varrach)
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[18:54] Micah Maus says, "WHAT DO YOU WANT."
[18:54] Abraham Autumn says, "Hark, I am-"
[19:00] Abraham Autumn turned his head to look about the area to find that he had been intruding upon what appeared to be quite the serious matter. Framing his chin with a hand, the young man pondered proper conduct amidst a settlement occupied by violent aberrations. His upbringing more than ample reasoning for him to simply turn tail entirely, however the disparity in his armaments and those of the common roaming Magi had been growing only more and more apparent from day to day.

Ultimately, the young man decided to shuffle over towards the varied peanut gallery.
(Abraham Autumn)
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[19:08] That voice, what a familiar voice. She had heard him as a wolf, a beast in battle, but never such a soft tone in his imperfect form. If she cared for art, it would be melodic. But the lieutenant lacked any such idle interests.

"A reflection of humanity's sins...interesting..." The tenured lieutenant mused for a moment in thought.

"Yes this land is mired in sin. The Meranthan natives are full of vice, and I an painfully aware that my sailors and even superiors are not exempt from such..."

Her eye remained on the imperfect.

"I have purged myself of this. I feel not positive nor negative, only conviction. I commit myself to be the perfect solider."

But even that was not enough. Years go by and she is still stuck in her measly lieutenant position. People who do not deserve it have surpassed her rank. Envy? Pride? Wrath? All feelings she shoves deep down.

"Ah Royce- I agree, he was a fool. To me, a life is a number. I hold no attachment to any of my men. They do their duty then they die in the battlefield or old age if they are lucky."

Her eye did not waiver.

"Perhaps this makes me the monster. But his death only proved that he was not ready for the job I have held so long."

Isla's nose twitched as the corrupt stench permeated while her attention turned towards the sirenian.

"Mongral? No. Most Meranthians, yes. I would prefer machine, hypocrite, monster. Atleast those insults imply a semblance of civility."

And now her attention could remain on the avian.

"Indeed. Learning about cambionization in particular. I had data on Balrith's process, but that is useless to me now. The land is a secondary data point. But I doubt I will learn how you do it without becoming a cambion myself."

She had no delusions that the demons would do anything for her.

"We will see how long this one lasts. I have ordered the execution of my fair share of traitors. I have ordered the death of young cambions in search of a cure for them. They say its righteous, I say it is simply a step towards a pure world."

With that she brandishes her spellbook.

"I am at the heart of darkness, like many times before. But instead I am alone. I wonder if that is my failings or the command's. Needless to say, I take no joy in fighting corruption. It is simply a duty I must fulfill."


(Isla Amana)
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[19:17] Many think the demonkind to be crude,
ruthless beasts.

But behind the eyes of many, there is intelligence that few could match- it is perhaps the very reason that Varrach has managed to ascend, to break free from the violent impulses of the demonkind that guide most, and be guided by something more than just that.

Perhaps it is what separates him from the rest.

"No human is ever free of sin." A pause; when the demon speaks, his voice reaches far, ensuring that it is heard clearly with the prickling upon one's mind.

"No such thing as an innocent."

"Only varying degrees of guilt."

It is something that Varrach has learned a long time ago, knowing full well that this would be the ultimate truth upon Meranthe; even now, when he watches this, he sees the sin within the woman...

This cold.
This awful cold.
Yet he does not speak on it.

"Royce..."

"Perhaps he was a fool, but he was a warrior, a worthy adversary. I respected that- admired that."

"It is why I uphold my promise to him - even if I took his life."

Even for someone as cruel as Varrach, there was certain moral code- a certain code of honor that he must follow, even after his ascension; even after he became so different.

Though...

"You shall face the heart of darkness, and Sak'noth will be your guiding hand."

"Pray that you do not drown in it."

And yet, the Imperfect watched. Perhaps, this would be Isla's ultimate test.

Or perhaps, it is merely the conclusion of the prior tests- merely the consequence that was long overdue.

Only gods could know.
(Varrach)
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[19:18] Hypocrite, beast, machine...

Phrases used carelessly. "I won't fuel your vanity, nor will I give you the pleasure of being acknowledged; you'll suffer an agonizing death." Each of his words was laced with venom.

And the storm only intensified.

His gaze is drawn to the impending carnage. As they recline in the midst of it all, in the purple forests, in the middle of darkness.

Floating in the air as necromatic mana envelops him, bathing him in a menacing miasma and releasing green chaotic sparkles.

And the air around them is only getting colder.

His skeletons create two thrones from their very bones after landing on his feet and snapping his fingers.

Grabbing a seat and making himself comfortable, as he offered the other vacant throne seat to the Great Varrach.
(Wra'gul)
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[19:23] Wra'gul says, "Gataro, if you do not wish to die here. I would suggest you loom elsewhere."
[19:23] Varrach says, "Hm? Yes, hello."
[19:25] Upon him searching for the demons he notice that was an gathering of some dangerous mana he felt like it was time to check out what was going on at Ebonhold.
(Reap)
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[19:28] Varrach entered the conversation, he spoke of what he represented and of another being, of things done and all that. She answered and made some other things clear - she was a person with determination, someone with..

Conviction above all else, clearly.

"How exemplary, certainly someone who differs, even if a little, from the rest seen so far - though not in a good manner and I wonder to what extent this goes..

The mortals here tend to demonstrate how rotten they are, how they can change suddenly.. But usually, most of the time, only under pressure.

I question myself, I want to test it.. If you will do the same, as we fight - if you show something more than that." In a leap he walked away, the book was brandished - he crossed reality.

As expected.

The surrounding portals opened in droves and that thing, that .. Abomination, started to fly. Reality shuddered, the space in that region.. It became suffocating, as miasma was spread by the demonic vizier.

The one who would soon ascend, just as his kin did.

"It really would have been interesting to have had more dialogue with you and listen about your research, however I see that you are already in an empty state and one that cannot change.

Yes.. Filled with something, that cannot be replaced. You have lost all semblance that could differentiate you from us. Now.. You are just one more, among many.

Don't worry, those who were executed await you and you will join them upon this day - it is the only adequate outcome for this." It was no longer necessary to say anything more than that to someone..

Who wouldn't live until the sun came up. What needed to be said, already was. Now, it was time to act, it was time.. to show that demons didn't bark, they acted and made it happen - just as Sak'noth promised retribution and now, would deliver.

"Hopefully.. we will see if you can demonstrate something, at least in combat..

Other than this.."

And with a shrill roar, the being advanced towards its prey - the sands rose from the ground to grip and limit movement, while like a cloud of destruction, the ether consumed everything, coming from Sak'noth - which was the source.

There would be no way out of that place, not, without defeating the one who was a demon lord.
(Sak'noth)
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[19:29] A idea... Surely the Emissary would enjoy witnessing the oncoming devastation, the blood that will undoubtedly cover the purple grass.

His hands shoot up, and his palms begin to produce pink and purple mana, the fel-mana encircling the runic letters on the floor, creating a delicate circle.

Some kind of ceremony.

Tendrils begin to wither through the fabrics, spewing black accursed blood, and with a gesture of his palms, he summons some form of being from the darkness.

"Emissary."

A mere nod of their heads as he did it all from the throne... If no one stopped him, that is.

His dull deep blue ocean eyes linger towards Gataro.

"The true form of power."
(Wra'gul)
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[19:30] Reap says, "Hmmm this looks interesting.."
[19:35] Hate permeates from the circle made.

An ancient, writhing malice older than the Primomarchy, manifest in a singular humanoid silhouette that emerges from the shaded epicenter of the ritual and emanates caliginous mists so dark it cast shadow on night itself.

The scent of the briny depths of Kerdanhel leaking into the nostrils of those in proximity.

And eyes in such a volume it were like the night sky reflected off the ocean surface. From the deep, the Emissary came, its mere presence swallowing the rays of the sky that breached the canopy of the Shadowlands.

Those baleful sights, numerous like a swarm of fireflies, resting on the climax of the violence on-going.

"You've summoned me.

Why?"
(Ia'Torr)
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[19:35] Wra'gul says, "A blood bath one to watch."
[19:36] He wasn't sure what was going on but this seems rather interesting. He feel like the more he stick around these demons the more chances of him fighting would appear? He felt like there protection would be great.
(Reap)
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[19:37] Gataro clasped a hand to the side of his head, softly frowning as he watched the ongoing struggle between Sak'noth and one of the few remaining adversaries of note from Aen's expeditionary forces.

He could not wrap his mind around why, of all things, the next stage he potentially faced had been one resembling that of a Mortal. The human form had been one he had never been too fond of ever since his summoning into the realm, the three decades thereafter only serving to make his position all the more bitter.

Vanity aside, on a physiological level the elder Kaor understood that the appearances of his kind were defined by the collective unconsciousness of mankind to an extent. Could this mean that Imperfection is a process by which a Demon grows closer to the source of their... essence?

Regardless of what the answer had been, it didn't sit right with Gataro. Not one bit.

"Eugh..." He quietly groaned, distressed by the possibility that his peer had been confined to such an appearance for the remainder of their existence, lest they encounter an opportunity for Perfection.
(Gataro)
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[19:42] Wa'gul says, "Ooh! Sounds pretty dope"
[19:42] This was a fight that deep down, Isla could not win. Sak'noth a former Great Khan. A power immense and legendary, one who could rival even the best fighters in colonial Aen. Even if she did manage to miraculously win, there were more waiting for her.

The tenured lieutenant tried to keep bay with her skurn, but his helspawn only proved that much stronger. When it came to sheer force of power, there was no contest, the great demon held it over her.

Occult energies and furious sandstorms rip across her as she fruitlessly tries to heal the damage taken.

Teeth gritted, the lieutenant stands her ground.

"Perhaps I am empty. A judge, jury, and executioner. Perhaps something did call me. But it was not Royce...perhaps Pylae wishes for my final redemption. Because a mortal can only god for so long without a heart."

Emotion bubbled in her. Wrath, that was her true vice. Anger at the Queen for damning her to this land, anger at Valerie for ignoring her, anger at Galahad for betraying her trust, anger at Isolde for giving her false hope, and anger that she was not able to accomplish more. But is what the demons want. To make her break.

Isla reaffirmed her stance. Hurt, beaten, and in no good condition to feasibly win. But she still held to it, her conviction.

"Come Sak'noth. I will face my judgment held high."
(Isla Amana)
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[19:43] Abraham Autumn says, "As to avoid complicity, I wilt beest taking mine leaveth."
[19:44] Abe decided another day would have been best for solicitation and turned on his heels to briskly march off.
(Abraham Autumn)
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[19:52] The distorted figure was something.. powerful, yet among those present - he wasn't the greatest threat. If he was defeated, there would still be those who could pose the true problem, but...

Would it happen? Not quite.. For..

Even with the Aquifer manipulation, which managed to damage the former Khan, he advanced like a beast.. His body was resistant and his will kept him moving forward even when injured, always forward towards what he desired.

Never the contrary, not until he had his goals achieved.

And so, he advanced.. Fighting with all of his power, to prove of what he was - for what reason he was here, and also, perhaps - in some manner of respect towards the opponent.

Even him knew what this was.

For this, she was hurled backwards, in a rain of ether that consumed everything and the ground that cracked due to his presence - which, at every moment ..

It just got worse.

"Mortal, at this point.. You already understand what you've gotten yourself into, so before the end that awaits you is reached, I must ask something from you.

It is quite simple.. if you had a second chance at life...

Would you do the same as you did in this one? Joining Aen forces, helping them commit everything they did while in these lands? Until.. This point." It was a sincere question, one that could be answered.

Or ignored.

"But of course, I will deliver you a judgment.. Fair and expected, one that shall be given for all those who went against my people."

Emotions at this point were certainly on the surface, remarkably. However, it was too late for regrets - for second thoughts. At the very least, the demon could ensure an end to all of this quickly.

As it was required.
(Sak'noth)
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[19:54] {Won Deadly RPB against Isla Amana}
[19:54] ** Sak'noth has inflicted an injury upon Isla Amana. ("Permanent Injury", "Permanent Injury", "Permanent", "Severity: CRIPPLING (-40 Vit)") **
[20:26] As expected, after advancing the combat would be fast. Through reality he advanced, making the ether rain and the sands consume everything around him! He would not show pity, nor weakness - if it was to fight, he would use all his strength.

To make it clear what he was and also to respect the last moments of someone who would soon join many others.. Many, in the afterlife - in.. Helheim.

As it was due.

So it would be this case, for not even with all efforts coming from Isla, proved to be enough at that moment - as she was defeated and in the end over the Lieutenant now the Great Avian stood.. She had fallen under his mighty.. Weakly and clearly, at the mercy of the Former Khan.

Someone who made pretty clear what awaited her..

As he grabbed her by the face, lifting the woman in the air, in front of the others who were watching, "And the end comes, even for those with steely conviction, null feelings - in similar fashion to others before you, the end is the same as of those demons the lives were taken by Aen.

It never changes.. Yes.. It is the same as always, for both sides.

Which makes me wonder.. Why would the mortals hate us so much? If we are the same, if we have all the same end.." Even at that moments such as this, he found the time for some speech - to comment about something he always wondered.

They are the same, are they not? Proven with death, such as at this moment.

They seek to eliminate his people, for what they were... When, they are so equal - after all, weren't demons a manifestation of all that was evil, coming from mortals? Exactly, as stated in Varrach's words.

Now.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter anymore to comment on that, no.. Not here.. The moment of speechs are over and we must finish this, you are already at the harvest point after all - your mana node..

Developed..

And so, it is time for me to consume it." And just like that, the claws that held the woman's face dug into her skin - almost similar to syringes..

Which in turn began to drain, consume every drop - of the mana from her circuits. Devouring anything and everything, leaving behind only the nefarious ether that snaked and brought the energy from within, to the Kaor.. Meanwhile, this ether left behind destroyed the woman's body from the inside out..

As expected, from the occultic energy from helheim.

Cracks broke through the skin that was starting to wither quickly at that moment. Such wounds emanated a putrid light, while in itself the bright of her eyes would cease to exist, as the last breaths of life left her body..

Such as her heart, now she would be cold.. As everything from her, was taken by the demon.

And at last, at the end, her empty body was dropped to the ground - slamming with a loud thump.. The dust rose and now, nothing was left. What was once Isla Amana, reduced to a body that no longer looked like a human being..

No, it could never be considered as one.. In such a state.

As, it was just a husk.. Empty, something the Demon Vizier intended to do to everyone in Meranthe, this.. It was just a taste of what was to come - of what awaited the mortal plane, should it succeed in achieving its goals.

"This little moment is over.. You all may leave.

Varrach, you may use what is left - it should be due, so nothing goes to waste." Said at the end, offering a gesture for his 'brother' - his kin, to come closer.
(Sak'noth)
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[20:29] Crow says, "Hmm..."
[20:45] "If I were to have a second chance to redo my life...no, I don't think I would have joined the navy. My family are officers, every member in the military. But knowing who I would become now. I think I would have settled down as a farmer on the crownland."

A mirthless laugh escapes as their combat resumed. She threw everything she had. Torrents of water desperately fought against the either and sand, but in the end, his power only proved to be too much.

She wanted to keep fighting, but her body could no longer take it anymore. Her knees buckled as she fell before the great avian. Without the energy to maintain it, her skurn vanished soon after.

Isla suddenly felt light as her body was lifted like it were nothing. When Sak'noth posed the question, the lieutenant tried to answer, but only a weakened wheeze escaped her lips. She was truly and utterly powerless.

Her eyes glazed as his claws dug in. Would she have screamed if she were healthy? Perhaps, but that question would never be answered. In a final breath of air, muttered out in a dry rasp the words "Forgive...me..." escaped.

Who it was for and for what reason was unknown, and there would be no way of finding out soon after. Feeling her heart beat thump slower and slower, the lieutenant's labored breaths found itself becoming shallowed.

Her toes she can't feel her toes, it was so cold. Memories of her journeys to the north flashed before her eyes. where it all began, her first expedition. So young and full of vigor. If it had only ended there. If they never sent her to Meranthe.

A small reminiscent smile had formed, but soon faded as her memories caught up to the present. And then, there was nothing.
(Isla Amana)
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[20:45] How quaint.

To watch this, to see what would come of it- it is something that Varrach has observed before, the final dance of life, teetering on the edge of death, that many magi performed across Meranthe in myriad battles that were waged all across the continent.

This was not something new.

Neither seeing the life taken, nor taking it himself; all the same, the Vizier performed admirably, weaving around his foe in ways that would ensure that Isla would be the one to fall, in spite of her best effort to overcome this.

In the end,
this fall was foretold.

"-- ah."

"And so it ends."

The quiet whisper. Little by little, as Sak'noth inches closer and closer to ending Isla, the Imperfect merely watches- to let him feast, to let him absorb all of her mana and feast on whatever else she could possibly offer to the Vizier.

To take all that she has to offer whole,
and perhaps some more.

"To be united by hatred is a fragile alliance at best..."

"And now, with no place to channel that hatred, they begin to wither away."

It wasn't the same after the fall of Abendrot. True, some of them remained.. but it was no longer an organized horde that manifested upon Meranthe, but instead a smaller group that acted in the shadows- no longer the same, not even close.

Their focus was lost,
and in turn, so were they.

To fall like this is something that no nation could foresee, but already this alliance could be seen splitting by the seams- slowly beginning to falter, to fall apart and make way to the personal interests that lingered beneath; the presence of demonkind no longer concerning people nearly as much, even with ascension of Varrach.

Their purpose has fallen.
It is such a quiet thing, to fall...
But far more terrible to admit it.

"She was a cold, distant woman."

"Perhaps no longer caring for what happens next- perhaps faithless, or simply one to give upon her life."

"But such emotion marks the end of one's journey."

"Such feeling spells the end."

There, the Imperfect finally inches closer- as Sak'noth drains her whole, taking everything and pilfering all that she's worth, Varrach watches for a moment; yet with her dying breath, there is one last message to her, the final words that are given with her departure to the afterlife.

"Because apathy is death."

Upon this whisper, her life fades.

Her eyes no longer show any life behind them, and soon enough, the Imperfect merely turns his head to Sak'noth. With a pause, there's a small nod, after which he speaks.

"-- it is appreciated, Sak'noth."

And soon.. the greenhue emerges forth. The sickly harvest of the Necromancer.

She would serve one last purpose.
(Varrach)
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