When you fight the Gods, the odds are always stacked against you. When you fight yourself, you always lose. Dalric spent much of his life doing both, and they were the only wars he'd seen defeat in.  Alas, they were endless endeavors, never leaving him be. He thought eternal retreat would finally bring him peace, but even death could not free him. With the afterlife barred, the battlefields called for him anew. This time, they would only accept victory. <><><> Sometime in the future. Heduana took a sip of her drink, "So you want to know more about Aamon's Axe?" She peered at her poorly veiled client, "The Black Maelstrom? Dragon of the North?" She leaned back into her chair, waving her hand at their response, "Yes, yes. Dalric. Such a drab name for a man so vibrant. Iridescent, I'd say. You know he was once called the Lord of High Honor? Centuries before his infamous rampages. It's believed he was an upstanding gentleman, if you can imagine." "To the point?" She smirked, "Are these not the details you sought?"  Their answer ushered a chuckle from within her, "I'm a storyteller, not an informant. I can only tell you the story of the Son of Thunderfield. The unreasonable prodigy, the unyielding commander, the unmatched monster. It's quite the tale, I assure you."  She shook her head, "Alas, as far as the world knows, the Immortal Giant proved his mortality long, long ago. It would be preposterous for me to claim he is the same as the man you now seek.” "True. The Dance did grace our skies, yet earth has not cracked and the oceans have not boiled. So you believe his rebirth is the cause?" “What do I believe?” She smiled. A wide, devious expression, “What would I know? The Dance predates civilization entirely. Who's to say what it does and does not signify?" She paused, "But. If I… had to guess. To assume.” Each syllable dribbled out, “I’d say… If there ever was a man to dodge death, who could be more fitting than the man who sought it so desperately? Imagine." Her eyes brighten, glowing like a full moon, "To all but beg for oblivion, reach it, almost touch its all-encompassing void, and yet find that your outstretched hand extends not into the abyss, but into the night sky instead. To be the one who desired an end greatest and the only one to ever receive a second beginning. How poetic.” The glow swiftly dimmed, "But of course you can't appreciate it." She scoffed, "Enough. This conversation has turned to speculation, and that is not my trade. Whatever the case may be with this thorn of yours, it is a story unfinished." Her smile returned, "If you survive its end, you may return. I'll recite it to you."  "Safe travels!" She giggled as her client stood, cursed, and marched to the exit.  After they had stormed away and she was once more left with nothing but her books and wayward souls, the glow returned to her eyes accompanied by that devious tint to her smile, "To come to me… So the Gods' demon has returned not only unchained, but defiant. Fascinating. And just in time to throw so many plans astray." She raised her hand and a tome dropped in it, "What tale will you tell this time, Dalric the Deathseeker?" What To Expect: A good time. In a few more words than that, a good amount of intra personal conflict, of schemes and intrigue, of interesting spells, of worldbuilding, of intelligent characters, of some other sixth thing, and of chapters. This will be a journey. Minimum Word Count a Week: 5000 Release Times: Sundays 12pm EST and Wednesdays 9pm EST I also write A King in the Clouds