The snow was cold. The traveler did not know how long he had been covered
in it, unmoving, but he sat up suddenly, looking around. The land was much
changed; the mountains had crumbled, and the snow had ceased to fall. He
raised a hand to rub his head, but stopped.
The black metal was gone - his hands were bare. He pulled himself up. This was strange. He was sure he was dead. He had died at least twice, he was quite sure, yet here he was again.
"Why, hello," said a voice.
He turned. The boy stood there, his armor now adorned with skulls and black symbols. He seemed taller, older, as if some event had aged him greatly. On his head sat a mythic mask with a single great skull.
The traveler shuddered, recognizing the skull. "It's you," he murmured.
"Yes," the boy said. "You escaped me before, but I've come to collect you." He pulled a blade from his sheath. "I don't need this anymore. Would you like it?"
"No," he said without looking at it. "Why - how am I here?"
"It's the island," the boy said casually, as if it was of no importance. "One of my better ideas, actually. Whenever something dies here, the life force of the island itself restores it. It makes things much easier for my necromancers." Images came to travelers mind: wolves with no flesh; a lizard skeleton with its head lying separate; an ogre reviving as its flesh cooked nearby; a snapped mast returning to its correct position on a ship.
"Why'd it take so long, then?" he asked.
"Well, a human being's a lot more difficult to raise than a beast or a boat. Also, I decided to keep you buried and out of the way for a little while. To be honest, you'd still be there, but I had some troubles of late and needed to put those powers elsewhere. No hard feelings, though - I'd love to have you back."
The traveler looked around. He recognized the area now; it was changed, but not truly drastically. It seemed rather as if someone had gotten bored and decided to rearrange a bit. He determined the direction in which the ship must be beached, and began to walk.
"Wait," the boy called. The traveler stopped, and turned to look at him. The boy looked sheepish.
"Well, aren't you going to take the sword? You'll need it. There are some... unfriendly creatures here."
"No thank you," the traveler said, as he resumed walking. He spoke over his shoulder.
"I'll not be coming back."
***
The black metal was gone - his hands were bare. He pulled himself up. This was strange. He was sure he was dead. He had died at least twice, he was quite sure, yet here he was again.
"Why, hello," said a voice.
He turned. The boy stood there, his armor now adorned with skulls and black symbols. He seemed taller, older, as if some event had aged him greatly. On his head sat a mythic mask with a single great skull.
The traveler shuddered, recognizing the skull. "It's you," he murmured.
"Yes," the boy said. "You escaped me before, but I've come to collect you." He pulled a blade from his sheath. "I don't need this anymore. Would you like it?"
"No," he said without looking at it. "Why - how am I here?"
"It's the island," the boy said casually, as if it was of no importance. "One of my better ideas, actually. Whenever something dies here, the life force of the island itself restores it. It makes things much easier for my necromancers." Images came to travelers mind: wolves with no flesh; a lizard skeleton with its head lying separate; an ogre reviving as its flesh cooked nearby; a snapped mast returning to its correct position on a ship.
"Why'd it take so long, then?" he asked.
"Well, a human being's a lot more difficult to raise than a beast or a boat. Also, I decided to keep you buried and out of the way for a little while. To be honest, you'd still be there, but I had some troubles of late and needed to put those powers elsewhere. No hard feelings, though - I'd love to have you back."
The traveler looked around. He recognized the area now; it was changed, but not truly drastically. It seemed rather as if someone had gotten bored and decided to rearrange a bit. He determined the direction in which the ship must be beached, and began to walk.
"Wait," the boy called. The traveler stopped, and turned to look at him. The boy looked sheepish.
"Well, aren't you going to take the sword? You'll need it. There are some... unfriendly creatures here."
"No thank you," the traveler said, as he resumed walking. He spoke over his shoulder.
"I'll not be coming back."
***