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Start of next Act is here... Hope you like it!!!
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A lone flower basks in the grace of the sun, as light spills across the Lands Between.. The sand in the hourglass has not fallen far; the day was still gently fresh, somewhere between the birth of the new story and the peak of its grace when the sun will be raining wrath in the form of heat. Bright green fields bloomed with flowers, and the hills swelled with rich trees. A gentle zephyr carried the hum of insects, adding texture to a world steeped full of sorrow and pain as countless clouds could be seen in the sky scattered and occasionally provide shade to the lands from the golden breath of sun. A group of white sheep with thick fur were seen grazing on green fields up a hill. In the distance, a pack of wolves were napping near a rock as a soaring circle of eagles flew around the field in hope to find anything to prey upon and fill their hunger. The herd of goats were flocking near a tree, near a pathway of stone. The pathway was glorifying the connection between the north of Caelid and the Castle of Limegrave. The stone path was a witness to decades of conflict and history carved into it. The path, half-eroded and half-enduring, clung to its purpose to guide the lost.
The path was rustling with the low and uneven rumble of footsteps of a troop of around 45-50 foot-soldiers, mixed with occasional knocking of hooves of two mounts of Kaiden mercenaries. One was in front of the troop looking for any incoming anomaly, while one rode in last to make sure nothing and no one could take the Caravan by surprise. They were escorted by a group of priests who each held a high banner of the Castle of Limegrave, displaying their authority over other creatures. They were transporting a Carriage from the castle of Limegrave toward the Caelid. The carriage was a beauty woven by a masterful hand with aged dark wood and plates of Black-iron. Countless carvings were on every aspect of the Carriage, encrypting a story of history untold, which only a certain few can understand. The carriage was a beauty on Wheels, looking like a divine black temple from afar. A Colossus on an axle rolling with a caravan, even the tallest of the foot soldiers was only able to reach the height of its wheels, and the Carriage was 4 times larger than its wheel. Such a titan was being pulled by two white trolls.
As the shade of cloud gazed upon the lone sheep grazing his fill on the edge of a hill, the sheep took a mouthful of grass and chewed it down as it looked around and saw a figure in the distance near the horizon riding a mount in a parallel but opposite direction from the caravan. The man seemed deeply engrossed in his thoughts, and his one hand rested on his steed's neck, patting it in daze, and his other hand stayed limp on his side, rubbing against his cape as his loyal steed, Torrent, walked with steady and gentle steps toward their next destination, the Castle of Limegrave. Following his fall to death, he revived his body to its peak condition, but the pain he felt was real; it still stings in his bones. The countless deaths one can tolerate are already torture, but he was in no position to complain; such is the fate of a being shrouded in destined death. He lifted his hands and stared at his palms with a hollow gaze and thought about what had transpired yesterday during the battle with the "Mighty Devourer of Sorcerers." Was he not the fiercest of the Round-Table? Was he not given the name "Butcher of the Round-Table" by his peers? Has he not slaughtered everything that came between him and the throne of the Elden-Lord? Has.. has he not? Then why?? Why was it that the butcher spared a dragon? Was he not told that dragons are as evil as they are ancient? Why has the butcher refused to kill? What was the chanting he heard, urging him to slay Adula? That voice was not something he recognized at all. He was going to be the next Elden-lord, no doubt about it. But, the question remains, What & Who was a Lord?
He isn't sure if Shabriri's arrival was a blessing or a curse; on one hand, he came and stopped his path to Elden-Lord. He would have been sitting on the throne now, had it not been for Shabriri and his critical questions. But thanks to him, Tarnished is slowly starting to uncover the sins of the Golden Order, slowly but steadily. He reached out and removed the helmet from his head, he had never once removed it in the past, but now, it felt heavy, He threw it away gently as it rolled down the hill, he needed to see the world with his own eyes, no matter vile sins are, no matter how bad situations are, he needs to see everything.
His hair had grown long, he made a messy man bun to get the hairs out of his face and keep a clear vision, and still a few bangs remain in his face. His hazel eyes are grown tired, sad, hollow, as if there was no light in them from the start. His face remains poker as he let out a deep sigh, and his knees go limp to either side. Once, he might've been the most charming man the world had ever seen; now, no one can say for sure what had happened after witnessing that dull face. His gaze fell on the caravan; he had never really stopped to look at it before, but now, looking at it, the Caravan seemed to be transporting goods as usual. But what hit him was the state of trolls. They were severely malnourished, with their abdomen skinned out and their whole intestines ripped off from their stomachs, leaving a hollow void in place of what should have been a stomach. One should have thought that they were pulling it via shoulders, but no, they were impaled by a massive iron pillar that pierced clean through their backs. Heavy chains ran from the spike to the carriage, forcing them to drag it despite their mangled bodies. It's unreal how they are even alive, much less pulling that titanic Carriage with their pierced body. They were living beings also, but treating such a Vile Hound humiliated and reduced it to nothing more than a Slave with no soul.