Echoes of the Veil
"It's time.." These eerie words echoed in his mind as he opened his eyes waking from the season long slumber. The voice was familiar and comforting yet shrouded in an aura of dread long past; It had been 132 years (or 1584 starfalls) since Vogar first emerged from the portal. As far back as he could recall, the horde, no.. Libila.. was all that he knew. The chill that followed her breath as she whispered those words into his mind's eye soothed every nerve within his body leaving only the sear of the scar surrounding his brand remaining as a painful reminder of the sacrifices he once made in her name.
The room had four walls and yet seemed to provide no shelter from the reverberating words ricocheting around his mind. Flashbacks of the carnage of war, the death and un-death of countless that stood both at the end of his blade or stood at his side strobed through his vision like a flaming arrow ripping through a haystack. Shaking the visions clear from his mind Vogar sat up from his bed and donned his wool shirt and the leather hat masterfully crafted to keep the sun from bombarding his ashen complexion. His finger tips calloused from years of perfecting the art of rendering the hides of animals and unwilling volunteers into their new purpose of protecting the zealots of Libila have long since accepted retirement.
Reclusing himself to his homestead within the vibrant and sun-filled forests of Xanadu crafting saddles and toolbelts for local artisans and discarding any acknowledgment of his past felt like a welcome retirement from the horrors of war, betrayal of the horde, and abandonment from Libila. "Become my tool and my weapon. Let me sharpen you, and let me run you through the heart of my enemies. For this, I will reward you greatly. You will be given powers beyond normal mortal possibilities." - the words telepathically implanted in his brain by the deity as he took his vow at the Altar of Three still clearly in his mind as he scoffed at the notion "The only reward that follows is that of dread." he muttered under his breath before pausing; holding the latch to his chamber door he allowed a wandering thought "What is worse than dread? Mediocrity..."
Dislodging his nightmare from his consciousness by pulling his hat down by the brim and stepping through the threshold of his hearth into the new day, his heart sank. The gravel path that he paved from the egress of his cabin was replaced by dark slate brick. Peering up from under the shield of his mantle to find not the comforting, safe woods of Xanadu but the bloodstained streets of Citadel. Thick crimson smoke blotted out the sun and the screeches of pain and sorrow filled his ears, all anxiety and fear was muted by the solace and peace found in feeling the warmth of the blood-quenched fibers of mycelium embracing his toes. The feeling of tranquility overwhelmed him only to be cut short by the thunderous crash of the door latching shut behind him. Jolting around to face the sound, his hand naturally navigating to where his blade once rested. Vogar found himself immediately paralyzed now face to face with the apparition of Libila as she clasped her claws around the back of his head caressing his chin within her palms. Her skin squirmed like a paper thin sheet containing a host of writhing worms pushing against the surface on the cusp of breaking through. Her touch pulled all warmth from his being, all light from existence was extinguished and what remained was a dark menacing fog surrounding him and the glowing eyes of the dark goddess's corrupted smile as she whispered to him, "It's Time."