The Testament of Myrkul

One would have thought a walk through a thicket of trees would be a rather basic shortcut. After all, Ketheric had once considered himself a man of nature, and he felt no fear from these woods. He had thought very little of the scattering of odd flowers that had popped up along his feet as he had walked.

All of that inevitably led up to a run-in with a familiar, but not so welcome face. The general's eyes narrowed as he looked towards Balduran, once more being confronted with another imitation of his ideals.

"I do wonder what might have happened to me, had you stayed where you were."

Eyes widened as he realized he had simply blurted that out. He rubbed his jaw with his hand as he took a step back from the other.

❝ where i was? that could mean so many things. the grey harbor? the colony? ❞

❝ the colony was there long before i came to seek glory at moonrise. my journey to anchorome was for my own desires. and when my chosen few came to face your true souls and your false goddess, you had already chosen your own fate. ❞ it comes out harsher than usual- balduran thinks of how much he pitied the general, of how similar they were. they had both lost precious things, they had both become monsters condemned by the masses. they both relied on unholy powers or mind games to keep others close.

balduran had stopped living in denial long ago. his actions were his own- his choices were a part of his freedom. were all of them right? of course not, but his path was one that he carved with his own hands, for better or worse. ❝ you give me too much credit, general, if you think that my whereabouts had such an impact on your fate. that path was the one you chose. be it in joy or in grief or in anger. ❞

But had any of that actually been true? Where might he have led with superficial convictions and resolutions, what was he? Deep down? He was a man who had shattered faith, and what was a loss of faith other than uncovering deeper, deeper webs of lies?

Where was all of that coming from? Ketheric was a deeply introspective man, having fought these battles both with himself and with his gods, but that had been years ago, before he had been trapped.

Lips pursed downwards into a frown, and Ketheric shook his head. Despite the urge to pull away, the general could not resist the urge to speak more. Especially since Balduran insisted upon it.

General Thorm ⚔️

The term made something in him seethe, the part of him that had tried to scrub the blood from his limbs and found only raw flesh beneath. Ketheric mentioned that he's looking different than his sister left him, and Immeral's hand moved to the scar on the side of his neck without thought behind it.

"She didn't finish the job." Of course she didn't. She wasn't Father's chosen. "And I would think I hadn't done the same, considering you're standing in front of me. I assume you and I - or whoever I was in your world - haven't clashed yet."

The confusion had soon begun to fade into idle, if annoyed, acceptance. He had killed Ketheric with his own hands. He bore the scars of Myrkul's scythe to prove it.

Would the influence of their gods make them foes once more? Did they have to play to the whims of deities that may not influence the world here? He could feel Bhaal's rage under his skin, but he hadn't felt the Urge nearly as strongly since he arrived.

Brows furrowed for a moment as he heard the other speak of Orin's handiwork. So, this one understood what he made mention of, yet he was alive? Ketheric Thorm was not a dumb man. He could put pieces together. If this one recognized him and knew of their relationship, but understood what Orin had done, then that would mean that the Bhaalspawn in his own home had managed to survive.

That could prove a problem.

"So, you are from a different time than my own. That much I can fathom, and it is not without question of happening. My time spent under the thrall of different gods certainly made me aware of the existence of different realities. You say that we have clashed? I have never had much teeth with your equivalent within my own world, other than the occasional moment you fell into a bloodlust at inopportune times."

For the briefest moment, he felt the ice cold grasp of his Lord Myrkul deep down inside of him, but it was fleeting and distant. He could not hear Myrkul's voice, but he could still feel the Lord of Bones just barely down in his core. Distant enough that Ketheric felt no desire to try and listen to it. Why should he? His lord had done little for him since he had been thrown into this world.