[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/366129818791575552/398069919666929665/jeggred.png[/img][/center]


From the blighted forest limped a lone figure, half a dozen torn and muddy cloaks draped across his body, with his face obscured in the oppressive darkness of his hood. Each step was dreadfully slow as it favored one leg over the other, clearly badly sprained from weeks of travel. Yet the figure persisted without fail as step by step the dead city of Venridge came closer. It was here there would be rest.
Food. 
Warmth.

Ironically, for a city so close to death, there would be life.

At the gates he was met with armed guards. Their words were lost to the warlock as he felt their lifeforce practically begging him to take it. It would be so simple to reach out his hand and wrap his fingers across this ones throat. To squeeze the air from his lungs as his vitality was siphoned into Jeggred.
His own hand was halfway to the guards throat when his faltering will stopped the intention. 

[color=f26522]"You must sign in."[/color] The guard proceeded, wary now of tricks from the unstable looking figure. Two more guards were inching closer.

"[color=440e62]Nnn...[/color]" The words hurt. SO long since he had spoken. Dust in his throat where words should be. In a dry raspy tone he croaked out a soft [color=440e62]no[/color] before trying to push his way through. 

Two guards were quick to grab his arms and pull him to the side roughly, tossing him down. Unable to support his own weight in his weakened state Jeggred fell to the ground and lay still as he struggled for breath.

[color=f7941d]"Take any and all weapons. Set him in irons." [/color]

The superior of the three issued his orders, the others were quick to comply. Clearly familiar with brushing down potential desperate hostiles on the verge of violence they were trained to disarm them before an event could occur.
In his weakened state, Jeggred couldn't even warn them. The blade on his back was a prison cell itself. Instead of physical bars of steel in locked the souls of foolish wielders in its multi-faceted gemstones glittering on the guard. The first guard grasped the sword for a mere moment before his screams echoed across the city, falling to the ground thrashing as he tried to let go of the blade. Flesh turned pale at an alarming rate as the other guards reacted swiftly, if confused.

The senior captain was hasty. Sloppy. His own sword struck Lightsbane out of the aged guards hands onto the ground to slide at Jeggreds side. Greedily he took the blade by the hilt and felt the fresh vitality of life dwelling in the sword and drank deeply. Eyes wide with the thrill of the healing waves washing over his sore body it felt like he was twenty again. 
With power to spare.

The souls of humans were rich with power, strength only those trained could harness. As he did so now.

A sigh of pleasure punctuated his revitalization as Jeggred returned to his feet. Still favoring one over the other, the limp was not nearly as noticable. Even his posture had changed to a more defensive hunch with the blade waving infront of him.

[color=662d91]"Do not.. touch.... OR SOuls... GONE! GONE!"[/color] The words came quickly, tumbling from his tongue oozing with fear. Not for himself but for the others. "No. NO! YOu cannot, will not.." Hunched and coughing he felt the magic already fading. [color=662d91]"Must help. Darkness. Shriveling. IT COMES TO you ALL. YOU. YOU, ME, HER, ALL." [/color]

The voices in his head shrieked their nonsense as he visibly struggled to stay steady. 

[color=662d91]"Take me. Now. YOur master. I serve.." [/color]

The blade lowered until the tip rubbed against the stones at his feet while he panted heavily. The guard who had touched the blade was pale and motionless but breathing, a great deal of his vitality sapped when caught unaware. It would be days before they recovered but recover they would. 

[color=662d91]"I serve."[/color] He whispered again, glancing all around him.