[color=006400][h1]Markiel, Nature's Arbiter[/h1][/color]

Mark always knew one day he’d fall. Never like this though. Once a hunter from a tiny village in the frigid north now a guardian of Nature. Soon to be ashes. He kept his promise. He gave his very life for nature to save it from the greed of humanity. How better to do so than through pure selflessness. Boreas landed next to the weak hero and nuzzled up against him. Memories of the once small fledgling filled his mind as the breathed the ashes gagging and coughing before filling their lungs with new fresh air.

Before them stretched the infinity of the universe. They were so small so insignificant to it. All of it faded away and they now stood in a garden with a small temple at its center. A perfect replica of “The old god’s”. Mark entered to find an idol like the one he knew, but made of all things even those beyond his human comprehension. It gleamed and shined with energy. A perfect combination of all things in balance. Mark fell before the idol stricken with awe. After a moment he felt as though a hand was against his cheek raising him to look at the idol.

“My arbiter. You have brought balance like there has never been before. You’re reward is here in my garden. Rest and be at one with all there is. Be one with me.” The god called.

There was peace and power, joyful noise and silence, All and nothing. Mark sat there, Boreas besides him, in meditation on the new state of existence. This would not last forever though. Mark was made to run and soar. He took to the new wild world he belonged to and began his great new adventure. It was paradise like none other. He met with the ancients who once served the god and spent his time on a glorious hunt. If not for the harmony in the place Mark would have grown tired. He always found success on his hunts, and the risks were gone. When there were no more challenges what was he but like all the rest.

He had no sense of how time was here and in Ansus, but there came a time when he began to feel his connection the unity fade and fluctuate. The garden was wilting and an unholy chill drifted through his being. He felt empty like his core has been removed and he was now hollow. He sought “The old god” for guidance, but could not find the temple. The whole realm was falling into disarray. Where there once was harmony was only chaos. Lost and terrified like a child seeking their mother he collapsed unable to comprehend what had come to pass. He no longer heard “The old god’s” voice. He was alone. There was only a fading vision of the idol blown apart into billions of pieces. Pain filled him an agony like flames were consuming him. He gasped for breath before feeling his lungs fill with dust.

It was cold, dark, and silent. This was what Mark felt death would be. There was a sound though. a faint near silent wind. He looked down feeling warm air brush by his chest. His own breath. So long had he been without such simple things he had forgotten the sound. Fumbling in the darkness he reached out feeling the feathers of his companion. Mark threw his arms around the bird clinging to the one thing he still knew he could trust.

He staggered and stood. With a moment of focus a little flame hovered nearby just enough to see. They stood in the center of a room made of black stones that looked like they had once been water. In the center of the room was a blade black as night and shining like the stars. Mark pulled it from the earth and felt energies filling him. That void was filling. In some why his connection to nature still existed. 

Mark coughed out a laugh as he say the preserved bones and melted crown of Lord Ghorion. He was at his own grave. At least he knew now his plan worked. He just didn’t know why he was here.

Had he returned after the fire stopped? Had his god simply returned him to carry on? Mark tried to pray and find answers, but nothing came to him. His only option was to find out in person. He walked the long corridors of the palace all held by the lava rocks. He promised Ghorion a memorial and here it was forever preserved for none to see. Seeing the raw power of what caused his undoing amazed him galvanizing his faith. A god capable of this could not fall.

Mark emerged into a bright new day, at least it was bright compared to the volcanic cave. The clouds were gathered making the sky a cold gray. Without the sun clear in the sky it must have been chilly, but Mark’s layered armor kept heat well. Small fields surrounded the area; all were tended by villagers in a garb similar to what Mark wore, but something was off. Not a single face was familiar. Boreas took to the skies to scout the area at Mark’s request while the arbiter approached one of the farmers. He walked up to a young man asking for a moment of his time.

[color=006400]“You, child.”[/color] Mark said his voice calm, but still assertive.

The man looked up confused. He was probably in his late twenties already a thick beard on his face hardly a child to most. He didn’t dare to comment back when he looked up at the imposing warrior who called for him.

[color=006400]“Why are my kin not in the fields? What keeps them?”[/color] Mark asked a fearful possibility creeping into his mind.

“Sir, I know not who you are. Did I see you come out of the mountain? Actually I’m not sure we should talk.” The farmer shrunk away some as he spoke

[color=006400]“Who I am? Bah. Must be new to these lands. I’m certain Orea will sort you out soon enough. I am Mark.”[/color] The hunter said chuckled at the man's ignorance

“Oh like the folk hero.” The man laughed a bit, “My son always loves those stories.”

[color=006400]“I’d hardly call myself a folk hero. Just doing what needs to be done.”[/color] Mark said

“Not you. THE Markiel Harrir. The one from all those centuries ago.” The man chuckled despite Mark’s serious tone

In an instant Mark grabbed the man’s collar and glared into his eyes.

[color=006400]“Did you say centuries? Tell me!”[/color] Mark growled

The man panicked and squirmed away calling for help. The other farmers ran too all to a small village that wasn’t there before. A few men came charging out of it with maces and swords ready. The militia rushed to the area surrounding Mark.

“Now that was unnecessary.” Their leader said, “Just come along with us and everything should be easy to sort out.”

[color=006400]“Has the world gone mad in my absence? Have centuries finally caught up to my god’s work?”[/color] The old hunter muttered

“Excuse me?” A militia asked baffled.

[color=006400]“Tell me one thing. How long ago was this palace razed?”[/color] Mark asked weakly his soul aching.

The men conversed throwing numbers around before a consensus of forty was agreed.

“Forty. Forty thousand.” The militia captain replied.

Mark looked the mountain that had built up over the castle and something snapped. He held his head trying to think. Had so long really passed? It could never be true. But then again with his god he had done the impossible before.

[color=006400]“I need to see the elder.” Mark demanded.[/color]

“We can do that after we’ve sorted out you terrifying our people.” A militiaman said grabbing Mark’s arm.

Mark growled throwing him aside. Another tried to bash him with a mace but the hunter’s reflexes were too fast. He grabbed the weapon and took out the man’s legs sweeping the mace at his kneecaps. All who still stood prepared to rush him. Boreas swooped down landing beside his partner the wind from his wings staggering the men long enough for Mark to draw Omega from its sheath on his back. The blade sang as it was drawn a soul freezing sound that could break the will of common folk. The guardsmen stood back in fear and awe.

[color=006400]“Tell the elder Markiel Harrir needs to speak with them.”[/color] He growled.

He was escorted through the town and all gather confused by the stranger. At first some jeered at him for harassing the farmer, apparently named Tomp. They were quickly silenced by the guards who hushed them out of fear. Mark was brought to the center of town a stone had been etched with tales of the past. The obelisk towered above all holding many millennium of stories. By now the crowds were growing restless unsure of what was happening. The militia tried to keep them patient, but they wanted answers about the stranger. Mark decided to indulge them. He drew Omega and all fell silent.

[color=006400]“You ask who I am. Have you forgot “The old god”? Have you forgotten the arbiter that made this land free? Markiel Harrir has returned.”[/color] He shouted raising the sword high for the masses to see.