Erebus has come a long way with the dagger... Mighty, to the point of training with it daily. Years had passed and he needed to refine himself a master, he set out to train in the wilderness, breaking thousands of blades day in and out against trees with his growing monumental strength.

It wasn’t until eventually he learned that it wasn’t the force of a strike, but the fluidity of one. Enduring many opponents, Erebus learned to bend his wrist mid-strikes, ensuring that on every collision, he could sneak hand slices against an enemy.
Due to the daggers innate weight opposed to other items, it was much faster and swifter, a good repeller item for the counter striker.

Erebus took it upon himself to learn his movements when he’d strike, able to rapidly spin the daggers like buzzsaws in his hands, Erebus mastered his own godly hand speed. His strikes now would spin into the enemy after every collision, his next asset as a monster in the melee department.

Learning the art of using one; and the art of both was what made a master. Erebus has done this as a rogue and so, stylistically chooses to only wield a single dagger. However— what were to happen if he drank the blood of a God?

He thought about this as time went on, and— as rite of passage to the dark whispers plaguing his mind. Was visited by a being in his dreams, he stands as a colossal. Four armed, and blue in the shape of a twelve foot dagger wielding animal. He resembled the face of a wolf, only to hallucinate the face of a man and a bear in tri-revolving animation.

His biceps literally pulsed as if shot with electrical discharge, with the static emanating off it’s skin. Erebus could only assume it was,

Breaking from a meditative moment, he awakes covered in sweat. His body aching and literally weak. Erebus wondered about this omen until the next night he slept, and again— his attacker to challenge a battle of knife and speed.

This time, almost in a drunken haze of sleep. Erebus witnessed himself ripped apart, unable to compare to the force of a God. When he awakes the next night, he walks outside. Clenching his recent beauty, the Maiden’s Voyage.

Striking a tree for unlimited amounts of day’s, perhaps only fishing in between to stay fed, the Rogue in his off-grid hiding, does the unthinkable. His dagger cleanly sheets the tree in half.

Falling backwards, Erebus stares at his hands, pale purple and sore to the bone. His vitality drained, he falls into a slumped breach of body.

Assailing, or perhaps falling.

Time is still, and a clear floor holds his form up, the sound of orchestra and climactic war reverberates the coliseum battle ground which seems to be hallucinated all at once, the floor seeming to be invisible and black as well as the infinite ceiling he’d came down from.

The sound of an ‘equip’ is heard as a Maiden’s Voyage appears to Erebus.

His ability to summon doesn’t seem to function as he attempts thrusting a hand up.

His eyes peel, the form of a black shadow begins to glow a faint oceanic blue; and then again... His opponent, now clad in armor that looked as Erebus himself donned. Except the key or rather defining difference was their faces and mass, no mortal had animating monster face and form that stood taller than a Grizzly. It was in the sheer speed it moved that was so trancing and interceptive to reactio. It’s beauty of power alone distracted from its night, so blindingly that rapid speed, that Erebus feels a sickening churn in his stomach.

Coming down against Erebus, he quickly blocks and fumbles with his body pushing back and rolling to recover to a lunge again. The War God rushes Erebus with a speed that would strike fear to many.


Ripping his arms and legs away in this dream world the demon God kneels before Erebus to bite his heart out.

When suddenly, the animal inside of human nature takes hold. Like a bat from hell, Erebus yells, after all his lungs were all he had left! He thrusts his spine to bounce into the God’s neck region, and rips the jugular out.

Golden icho blooding the mouth canals of the rogue/summoner.

Ignited like the light of Helios, golden light shoots out Erebus eyeholes and ears, steaming and bending matter around them.

Just as Erebus would have undoubtedly been a product of losing his soul in a spiritual sense, his spirit and ego topples the War God.

It unknown how the phenomenon occurs but this is considered a test by an animalistic monster that governs war and death. By administering death and a clear “fuck you” Erebus takes control of his own Nightmare.

He becomes Lucid.

Like a God himself, when he awakes, he is in a meditative position, however. Instead of two arms in prayer, he is astounded to see four... As well as tattoos fitting his body. He instantly thinks that this mutation is related to his Nightmare, in the same breath. His training to be a Master is nearing completion.

Pact of the War God background is done in the spiritual realm, away from the reality of his world but within the contents of his own psyche. One could say he mutated into his new form through dark power, but the War God is very real, and with his blood coursing Erebus body, Erebus can be considered a Minor God-Like Human at minimum at this stage in his regression from innocent hero to Most Wanted Outlaw in all the land.

968 words

—— WC to be alloted to Dagger - Master Training.

- End and Exit -