[center][h2][color=9e0b0f][i]Naqqash[/i][/color][/h2][/center]

[i]A familiar sound drifted through the twisted forest of Elkesis, a sound of labored breathing and heavy footfalls. A good creeped between the tress, deep in his own mind pondering the suffering of the world. He thought of those still in bondage he could not save, the wretched lost and alone in the world who payed him homage. He shed tears of blood for the souls he could not lead to his oasis in Elkesis. His footfalls were pain as he focused upon his own as well as others, the cruel spurs and spikes on his bones scratching and cutting his skin inside and out. The feeling of warped bones creaking and bending with stress as his  head ached from the cruel helmet fused to it... and yet he walked. Through brambles and vines lined with thorns he stalked, seemingly unaware of their existence. 

This was his land after all. No beast would dare harm their God, their caretaker, their creator. Elkesis thrived about him, spined warthogs scurried away from him to find other prey. The largest among them bowed their heads before turning, knowing it was they who must pay homage. He moaned quietly in pain and anguish, listening to the souls in pain in his ears who he only wished to relieve their suffering. Trees seemed to part before him and plants almost bowed to this king of thorns.

Eventualy he heard the sounds of one of his free folk bands in a clearing. They danced about a great fire, singing praise and rejoicing even in this desolate land. Children born here laughed and played, and the oldest among them told stories of their scars and of the great god of pain, of Naqqash who walked amongst them. the living god of the free folk. A smile found its place upon Naqqash as these souls sang to him, reveling in their strength and past their great pains they danced in his image. Through the trees he came, to a great many gasps from his people as they bowed to their god. He walked to a large felled tree, the free folk crowding around him in awe as their god towered before them. The sound of bones creaking and skin tearing could be heard as the pale skinned god sat heavily on the black wood, a sigh of pain escaping his lips. He looked to his people, gesturing for them to sit.

All did, ears and eyes open to their lord, their savior. He was not one to dissapoint. "[color=9e0b0f]A tale, good folk, of chains I bring and the lash that sits above. A great old man who withered beneath,and prayed to the stars above. Not for mercy no, for this there was no plea, but for the strngth in his arms and the love in his heart to spred to others like he. He said to sky 'Take not my scars away, for you see good sky it is them that I must thank for the strength in me.' Our scars only make us all the stronger, for without them we would be less. Never forget your scars good folk, for they will never leave.[/color]", it was then the call of the guardian rang in his head, and Naqqash sighed once more as he stood and bid his people goodbye. In a flash of the moon he had dissapeared, leaving only the wonderous eyes of his folk, and the story he'd left behind.[/i]

[hr]

Naqqash arrived in the hall shortly after Ilyona. What a dichotomy it was, for the radiant sun to be followed by grotesque thorns of the lesser god. No longer did he moan in pain or anguish, for now it no longer mattered. He did not ponder suffering and so his strength prevailed, and no pain could be felt by him. He looked about the room to all who had arrived. Oksana, slayer of his father and the one who so vehemently oppsed the return of his center. Ferrum, a man who had stood by war in the rebellion but who Naqqash had met only briefly. Then there was Aesis, the braggart sea god who even now seemed to mock the death of his own father, Naqqash's granfather. He looked... odly peaceful for a dead king, Naqqash thought. Of course Ilyona stood not far from Naqqash, but he had hardly ever met the sun goddess, unsure what to think of her or the Guardian who sat at the head of the table next to the throne.

Naqqash quietly took his stance near thee end of the table, a bit behind his fathers old chair, where he could not sit... another slight for him to bear. He glanced only at Ferrum long wnough to give a nod of acknolwledgement, before finally speaking. His heavy voice carried well, but was strangely subdued nonetheless, "[i][color=9e0b0f]Hello. I am humbled to meet here once more, though the circumstance is... painful. Granfathers loss is another burden to bear, and so I shall bear it, as must we all.[/color][/i]"