A Song of Everything That Is
Stats will be posted later.
Not much is known about Wyntera’s past. Every time it’s brought up he becomes very silent and refuses to talk about it under any circumstances. The only thing that he will state is that he was found by his “mother” Kyntara and she raised him from childhood. He was a relatively good child, but something always seemed.. off.. about him. Occasionally he would slip into a trance like state, mumbling to himself. His eyes would cloud and his fur would deepen a shade, a dark aura emanated from around him, a shadowy figure being seen in the mist. These fits would only last for a few moments before he would snap back to reality, seeming as if nothing had happened. As he grew up, these fits stopped happening for a while, but the dark aura would still leak whenever he would exercise his natural voidian magic. It wasn’t until later in life that he realized what it truly was. What seemed to be within him was an ancient being named Ryleth. Ryleth’s origins are unknown, nor is his existence confirmed. All Wyn knows is that he hears a voice whispering in his ears on occasion, sometimes offering advice, and other times tempting him to follow a darker path. When he sleeps, a vision of a dark being, shrouded in smoke appears to him, it’s body chained and impaled on spikes, black blood trickling from it’s wounds. A seductive and echoing voice calls out to him, “Ryleth… Transcend the darkness.. The realm of knowledge awaits…” The voice then falling silent, and the creature becoming more visible. Grey layered scales ran down it’s chest and underarms, a seemingly drake-like appearance. However, it did not have horns as most dragons do. Instead it had large ears, the ends mangled and chewed up. It’s fur a dark ebony black, with lavender sigils shimmering with an almost ethereal glow. Large shimmering claws came from it’s paws, almost six inches in length. When it looked up at Wyn, it’s eyes were a solid lavender color, glowing brightly in the darkness. This visage would manifest itself for a few moments before vanishing into the darkness, often leaving a cryptic message behind. This entity began to affect Wyn and guide him down darker paths. Over time it drove him mad, the whispers continually speaking to him. It drove him to the brink of insanity in which he rebelled against his own society and slaughtered the high-king and his staff, curled in a corner and licking the blood off his sharp ferret claws. The government captured him and took him to a mental institution. Even after years of psychotherapy and drug manipulation, Wyn had shown no signs of improvement, still listening to the voice in his head. It wasn’t until his execution day that things started to change for him. When he was being transported to the platform, a mysterious being appeared from seemingly nowhere, slaughtering those in the car and releasing Wyn from his binds, helping him escape. This strange figure wore a robe and a dark mask, concealing its identity, the only visible glance being a white paw with emerald green markings. It drug Wyn to a desolate place, forcing him to the ground and restraining him. This is as far as Wyntera remembers, afterwards he woke up in a dumpster somewhere completely foreign to him. The terrain was no longer of the void. A very green and strange place. The voice was now gone, and he could think clearly. He discovered that normal foods would not satisfy his hunger, a darkness still resided within him. He needed to kill. He had to kill. …and he did. Little did the ferret mix know but that the being that liberated him had infact blessed him with a gift. Immortality. Immortality which came at a grave price. Wyntera’s soul had been ripped from his body, stored away in a location somewhere far away. In order to maintain the link between his body and soul, the energy had to be replenished. The only way to replenish it being to take the soul of another living being. This cycle continued for several decades, murdering innocents as needed to replenish his lifespan. When he was about to murder a particularly helpless raccoon named Fydget, the emerald paw stopped him. The figure showing up once again before something bad happened. The being never spoke aloud, but Wyn still heard his voice. “My name is Syne… You’ve been running rogue for a while now… It’s time to stop… You’re mine now…” the voice echoed inside Wyn’s head, causing him to pass out shortly after. Over the next few months Syne trained Wyn to restrain himself, helping him to focus and harness his energy. Eventually Wyn managed to regain his grip on reality and himself, finding ways other than killing to replenish his soul energy which sustained his body. He lived a long happy life for many years, enjoying other’s company and having a semi-normal life. But what kind of story is this? One with a happy ending? No… Everything was going so well, until… The familiar voice whispered to him again, “Mnnnhhh… Aren’t we all merely puppets in this game..? Small little insignificant pieces in the great cosmic game of chess…” his vision darkened and the dark being shrouded in smoke appeared before him. It grabbed his chest and pushed itself against him seductively, slowly licking up his cheek with it’s long slimy tongue. “Didja miss me…? Sweetie…”
Every story has a beginning and an end. Telling the difference between the two is often difficult, in this case, the end is merely the start of the beginning. The beginning of what…? That is what you must determine. The real story begins here… Among the winds of mortality that we all call… life..