He sensed it the moment she'd allowed herself to be known. Mythal was alive and treading over the same land he had since claimed as his own. The death of Francesco Campana wasn't as satisfying as he'd hoped it would be. In fact, it was a bit of a pity considering what he might have compelled the king to do with the right amount of encouragement. But alas, he was forced to make do with the widowed queen and her brat son with little clue on how to run an empire and maintain consistent control.
That sort of control, the complete and all consuming control he craved was unable to be carried out by anything less than ruthless ambivalence. Unfortunately, the only Campana even remotely close to assuming that quality was dead. Part of him wondered if he'd been too hasty killing Francesco only to be remembered that the late king still served a purpose in his death. The death of a ruler, once a bastion of hope and leadership to an otherwise wayward people, had the power to topple a nation if the dissent was allowed to fester unchecked. That's what he was counting on. Control to him meant wiping the slate clean completely so as to foster a new beginning.
He meant to cull Thedas down to the last cinder.
And now he would have to contend with Mythal and her merry band of delusional followers.
He loved her once, but that love had quickly soured the moment she chose The Dread Wolf as her eternal companion. That eventually morphed into a seething, obsessive anger, a hunger that would likely never be satiated. He collected his prizes, echoes of her essence so that he might possess her in some capacity, even if it meant never being able to destroy her in the ways he craved.
After his coup of Antiva City, Elgar'nan was turning his sights to new endeavors. Endeavors that involved much in the way of confronting Mythal with maniacal intent bolster every move and decision he made from here on out. He wanted her neutralized so as to further his objective.
He walked in a grove outside of the city, the flora still bouncing back from his fiery arrival. It was soothing to him to watch the decay of a once vibrant thing, it reminded him of the souls he'd left in his wake throughout the millennia. There was a strange beauty in the empty husks left behind. He stopped suddenly, eyes looking curiously skyward.
He was speaking to her.
That sort of control, the complete and all consuming control he craved was unable to be carried out by anything less than ruthless ambivalence. Unfortunately, the only Campana even remotely close to assuming that quality was dead. Part of him wondered if he'd been too hasty killing Francesco only to be remembered that the late king still served a purpose in his death. The death of a ruler, once a bastion of hope and leadership to an otherwise wayward people, had the power to topple a nation if the dissent was allowed to fester unchecked. That's what he was counting on. Control to him meant wiping the slate clean completely so as to foster a new beginning.
He meant to cull Thedas down to the last cinder.
And now he would have to contend with Mythal and her merry band of delusional followers.
He loved her once, but that love had quickly soured the moment she chose The Dread Wolf as her eternal companion. That eventually morphed into a seething, obsessive anger, a hunger that would likely never be satiated. He collected his prizes, echoes of her essence so that he might possess her in some capacity, even if it meant never being able to destroy her in the ways he craved.
After his coup of Antiva City, Elgar'nan was turning his sights to new endeavors. Endeavors that involved much in the way of confronting Mythal with maniacal intent bolster every move and decision he made from here on out. He wanted her neutralized so as to further his objective.
He walked in a grove outside of the city, the flora still bouncing back from his fiery arrival. It was soothing to him to watch the decay of a once vibrant thing, it reminded him of the souls he'd left in his wake throughout the millennia. There was a strange beauty in the empty husks left behind. He stopped suddenly, eyes looking curiously skyward.
Took you long enough, petHis tone was jovial, though he continued to look up and knowing that she could hear him no matter where he directed his voice.
He was speaking to her.
10-12-2023, 02:48 PM
