i am the vanguard of your destruction

No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold,
Nothing satisfies me but your soul

It snows in hell—

—and Hell was here; snowflakes fell in heavy silence, muting the world as only snow can. Normally, Mauja thought it was serene, but the trees of the Blood Falls crowded close and dark, twisting and curling, black-boned fingers reaching for the sky as if to choke it—or the world. The whisper of the snowfall had a so much more sinister echo, the sound of it cold and heartless; blue eyes flitted restlessly between the thickly packed trunks as he traversed the land. He couldn't even remember why he had gone here in the first place. Maybe it had just been to look again at the place where the first of many Rifts had opened, to stare at the resting place of a God, and remember how the first encounter had been but a warning of what was to come: the sickly demon had threatened to tear his owl from him, but its brethren that came afterwards had done so much worse.

The sound which shattered the silence seemed to shake the world to its foundations. Mauja was brought up short, black-rimmed ears flicked forward as his gaze tore through the stark contrasts of dark trunks and pale snow. So he had not been alone in this godforsaken place, though he wondered if maybe he wouldn't have preferred to be; the memory lingering in his mind was brazen, a dare, a challenge. Uncertain, Mauja hesitated. Perhaps someone else was here. Perhaps someone else would take up the tossed gauntlet, rise to the bait, and charge foolhardily into oblivion.

And perhaps no one else was here, and it was just the two of them. Slowly, his pale neck bent, and his muzzle brushed across the smooth surface of the Moon's staff. It lay across his back, tucked in beneath one of the leather straps securing d'Artagnan's (his, they're his now—) bag. It felt cold against his sensitive nose. Foreboding. It whispered of bloodshed and fell deeds, of heathens clashing beneath a blood moon, demons and angels—

Silently Mauja pulled the unassuming weapon from its place, and leaned it against the nearest tree. His heart was racing; his jaws trembled as he touched the buckles, and one by one (—his heart had been breaking as he watched the leather slip from a blood bay's shoulder—) they came undone. And with more care than one might offer any inanimate object Mauja lifted the bags aside, nestled them in the snow and roots, leaving a piece of his heart there. His searching lips found the staff again, and he slid his muzzle along it until he found its center. It was time to face his foe.

Frosted hooves left large dents in the snow as he wove through the remaining trees. Something in the silence had grown even heavier, even darker, a subtle, insidious shift.

The trees, and the snow, parted. A tide of red crashed into a pool of the same color, and beside it stood a vaguely familiar stallion—

—his thin form spiraling through the air, flying high, crashing hard—

—with a wolf's pelt draped across his back. He was tall, sleek, handsome black, with a red-splattered forehead and a horn rising out of the blood-colored mess. But, what drew Mauja's attention the most was neither the young stallion's spectacular head markings, nor his apparent return from the dead: what drew Mauja's attention the most was the leather straps running in by his hips, heading straight for a very forbidden place. What on Earth were they? What did they lead to? Were they attached to—? Oh gods, what would happen if Mauja pulled at one of those straps?

Only one way to find out. Mauja paused at the edge of the trees, heart thundering out anticipation; it was a long, long time since he had fought like this, a solid shaft trapped in balance between his jaws.

Still, like Öde, he kept his secrets hidden.

Well I am Death, none can excel,
I'll open the door to heaven or hell

[ 0/3 || 656 words || @Öde ]
[ MUHAHAHA. :D Teaching? Yeah, if you don't mind taking the extra time to offer some feedback, I've never fought with a scythe before so it'd be good to get some opinions on what worked and what didn't! ^^ Question about his magic, though - is it a constant, passive effect, or does he need to activate it? Aaaand Mauja hasn't yet summoned the scythe blade, so it just looks like a crystal staff. ^^ ]