Thread: Of Memories, Destiny and Scorn (Mephilis&loneiysong)

It was that same dream again, that has haunted his dormant mind for ages, tearing at his sleeping sanity. He could see her face, Saria, his beautiful Saria, her soul piercing eyes full of sadness. Neither of them wanted this to happen, but they both knew it had to be done. The Gods had forsaken them, and the humans desired their land, and their lives. He would die, but she, and any other woman would be forced into a life worse than any death. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he knew he had to save her, but was only afforded one option, something he would never forgive himself for. As he pushed down on his weapon, he could feel it tearing into her body, he could feel her bite back the agony that proceeded her death. He watched the joyous life they had flash before his eyes, as he watched the life fade from her's. He could feel it in his chest, his heart broke as those gorgeous eyes closed for the last time, a broken heart that never healed. Just as he began to express his agony in a pained roar, it all went black, then he came to life again. The Great Grey Panther, Septis Glaivenclaw, stood up from his kneeling position on the ground. That dry, dirty ground of the desert floor, silver eyes reaching out for the sky, he saw the world again. He was awake, yet, still asleep. Looking down at his nude feline body, he sighed, he looked just like he did on that day, the day Saria died. He knew, that this was but a vessel for his hatred, his grudge, and he had to find his true body to awaken his full power. So many times before, that brown haired human with blue eyes had stopped him. This time, he had to succeed, it had been long enough, his plan was in place. He saw through the ages before that battle so long ago, on that metal continent he created, where the first Hero had defeated him. He knew that this age, was when all his schemes would bear the most fruit, of course awakening himself before now would have been preferable, but even so, he could still achieve his aim now. First things first, he thought as he looked over his muscular form again, he needed clothes. With a sigh, he began to walk forward, unsure of what he would find in this sand infested land, but he would continue to move until he saw something, not like the heat bothered him. ------ Pain, horrible pain, a headache for the record books, the human thought as he grasped his head. William had lived a simple life, in his small village, working as a hunter, and errand boy. But now, things were changing, memories of things he did... but didn't do began to rush into his head. He could see it all so vividly, yet understood nothing. Finally, the pain began to fade, and one single image resonate din his mind. A sword, unlike any he had ever seen before, but the image was gone before he could really focus on it. That was... different.. He said to himself, he he looked around, it did not seem anyone had noticed him grasping his head for dear life. Which was fine by him, he hated answering questions, he just wanted to do his job and go home. Speaking of which, these supplies were not going to deliver themselves. Looking around, he managed to find his pack laying out on the ground, seems it fell off his back during the massive headache. Pulling it back on his back, he began to look around for any items that might have fallen out form the drop. Finding none, he continued on his way to Neclair's shop, oldest shop in the little village of Scaven, ironically run by what must have been the oldest man.