Ulrok the Undying

*Tuning out the destruction outside, he instead focuses on the tomb before him.  A beautiful tomb made of a delicate white marble to reflect the sorrow of the life that he had so sadly misjudged.*

"Was it worth it?"  *He can hear her say in his memories, or was she saying it to him right now through her magic? Perhaps she was  standing beside him looking down at her own tomb, empty as it was.*

*Ulrok walked solemnly towards her tomb, her beauty carved lovingly atop the cool marble. He ran his fingers gently atop the stone remembering the days that they were happy. The days when she was happy. One would think these thoughts may soothe the grief inside him. Yet all Ulrok felt was rage. Rage at the Fey for forbidding his love. Rage at the Gods for their judgement. His rage burned most intensely for one. Himself. It was he that put her there, on the throne. It was he, who in his quest for power to save his beloved wife, had crushed her with the very essence of his choices. Ulrok has obtained the power  The Queen of Night and Magic had promised him. But at what cost?*

*A cold wind stirred around him. His dead form cared not.*

**"I only wanted to protect you, everything I did, I did for you."  *For what feels like an eternity, he is no longer Ulrok the Undying, no longer the vengeful and mad man he had become, but his younger self again.  He was a Black Boar Warrior once again, but only for a breath, which he did not have. Only to talk to Ellesandra, who was no longer she.***

"Such a high cost then, Ulrok, everything you fought for, schemed for, resulted in a catastrophe and the end of my mortal life.  So was it worth it? All the power you have now, power at your command, was it worth it?" *Outside the tomb his General is laying waste to the Fortress Rigriov, people are dying and mercy is not to be found. For every moment of the draining hourglass, another life is extinguished.*

*Part of him wishes to reach out and stop the slaughter but another part, an angry part of himself, wanted the slaughter to increase in some hollow attempt to tune out the grief in his heart and the failure he felt at not being able to save Ellesandra. His suffering seemed endless, but also nurtured the darkness growing each day more gloriously than ever in his mind.*

*Looking over to her tomb, where she should lie the peaceful slumber of eternity,  he can only think of a single response:*

"No"

*Ellesandra’s Tomb  fades away into oblivion with sadness in its wake as Ulrok sinks back into himself as once again his grief consumes him.  Turning from where the empty tomb of his beloved was, he walks away back into the slaughter that his actions have brought about.  All his deeds laid bare. His laments washed away in blood, until the tomb came again. Such is the nature of his prison and his dread.*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------From the Prophecy of the Undying King by this hand, The Grand Maestro Roderick von Erlanger "From the fields of his disciples shall the seed of Ulrok the Undying be sown. The will and the way hast been paved and he shall rack his vengeance upon thee."