!!9x1vEuGv9ER 10/23/10(Sat)21:21 No.12549559|
He was born into the Macc Baís of Dusk.
When he was 5, his mother was taken by daemonic beasts in the night.
Then orphaned, he grew up with the older girl, Aoífe. He grew in the most terrible of ways. He grew into a man standing a half-metre over the heads of the tallest warriors in his tribe though sculpted like a willowy, grotesque marionette, with skin and hair white as frost, as death.
His tribe of scarcely four thousand chose him to be their ambassador. They made him a Man of the Mask, entrusting him with the name, the very honor of his nation, that he might represent them within the alien world of the Imperium.
When he was 20, his mother came back. Hale, healthy, terrified of the looming horror which lie sleeping where her young son should have been that morning.
To make up for 15 years of loss, the month he had left could never suffice.
And when the ship came at the end of the month, he left his mother behind. He left his nation. He left his best friend, his guardian, his mentor, his lover, or whatever Aoífe was to him, though the question hurt too much to answer now that he was leaving. He was a Guardsman now. A faceless, disposable soldier for the Imperium.
And none of his loved ones were there when the ship crashed on Mara. When the dead returned on Mara, it was not with bewilderment and bittersweet reunion, but a frostbitten hate and hunger for death.
It's been eight years since he's left his home, and, through his service in the Inquisition, he has ignorantly, carelessly had a direct hand in sparking a genocide on a foreign planet which would claim the lives of no less than twenty times as many innocents as the population of his entire nation.
His struggle is to return home a good man. A strong man. A proud man. To return with the respect of the highest levels of the Imperium, that the galaxy might know the worth of the Macc Baís.
His struggle is to see Aoífe and his mother again with his head held high.