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Master_Cypher
Moon
- Joined
- Oct 7, 2013
Lady Fate is a fickle woman… More so than the common mortal might think. With Her strands interwoven with reality as they are, she can easily do as she pleases, setting off chains of events that can send a righteous man to a brothel and cause a black-hearted penny-pincher to reconsider their life with a simple dismissive flick of her wrist… Or just the opposite with a small, intoxicating smile.
The Shrouded Ones are but a few of the strands among the many at Her beck and call. Most think of these beings only as the Grim Reapers, but their job is actually far more complicated. They are more like… farmers, rather than the ghoulish harvesters many believe them to be. They sow the souls they will later reap, and protect them from the vermin that would otherwise devour them.
Still, their job is, more often than not, quite somber… Grim, even, as humans are often apt to call it. This is because, most often, it is simply a fact that they are called upon to reap the life of one that they helped guide into the world, that they fought so hard to protect, before a they have spent long at all in their mortal coil... Without even being told what Fate held in store for them after death. This was the decision Fate seemingly bestowed upon one of the Shrouded Ones and his charge… A young woman he thought knew rather well, and had grown rather fond of in a sort of paternal sense.
He sat above her home in the black cloak his kind was known for, carrying the cane that shepherded souls too… and from… their mortal bodies. Some took to the reaping part of their job more…readily than he, and thus carried a scythe… but he did not relish this part of his calling. It was bad enough that he’d have to use his cane again so soon on this pretty young woman after a mere decade or two. He sighed and shrugged. “‘Tis not my place to question it, is it?” He wondered aloud, then jumped down through his target’s roof.
Her room… Or was it an apartment? The names of these living arrangements always escaped him... Whatever it was, was on the top floor, so he did not have to descend far at all to reach her in her quarters. He noticed that something felt odd once he touched down on the floor behind her, but paid it no mind for now… instead, he simply waited for his cue to take her away, his gnarled cane resting over his shoulder, ready to spirit her away when the time came.
The Shrouded Ones are but a few of the strands among the many at Her beck and call. Most think of these beings only as the Grim Reapers, but their job is actually far more complicated. They are more like… farmers, rather than the ghoulish harvesters many believe them to be. They sow the souls they will later reap, and protect them from the vermin that would otherwise devour them.
Still, their job is, more often than not, quite somber… Grim, even, as humans are often apt to call it. This is because, most often, it is simply a fact that they are called upon to reap the life of one that they helped guide into the world, that they fought so hard to protect, before a they have spent long at all in their mortal coil... Without even being told what Fate held in store for them after death. This was the decision Fate seemingly bestowed upon one of the Shrouded Ones and his charge… A young woman he thought knew rather well, and had grown rather fond of in a sort of paternal sense.
He sat above her home in the black cloak his kind was known for, carrying the cane that shepherded souls too… and from… their mortal bodies. Some took to the reaping part of their job more…readily than he, and thus carried a scythe… but he did not relish this part of his calling. It was bad enough that he’d have to use his cane again so soon on this pretty young woman after a mere decade or two. He sighed and shrugged. “‘Tis not my place to question it, is it?” He wondered aloud, then jumped down through his target’s roof.
Her room… Or was it an apartment? The names of these living arrangements always escaped him... Whatever it was, was on the top floor, so he did not have to descend far at all to reach her in her quarters. He noticed that something felt odd once he touched down on the floor behind her, but paid it no mind for now… instead, he simply waited for his cue to take her away, his gnarled cane resting over his shoulder, ready to spirit her away when the time came.
