notapaladin

Lord Death sat over the bones of the dead, and He thought. The bones were His responsibility, and He would not shirk them, but He was a busy god—a very busy god, now that mankind had been wiped out and the others would have to start anew. Perhaps...yes, perhaps for a time, He could have another watch the bones. (And perhaps, he thought with the ghost of a smile, I will see my Lady.)

He cleared what passed for His throat, and summoned His most loyal servant.

The shade of a priest stepped out of the dust. His feet were bare, but once he had worn bone-white sandals. His hair was unbound, but once it had been tied back with white cords. His cloak, now trimmed in shadows and owl feathers, had once been gray. He knelt in front of his lord’s throne, eyes downcast, and waited for instructions.