Role

Chapter 6

Foraxien was dreaming.

It was not an unfamiliar dream, of late. His litany of sins was only
growing, and where redemption may once have been possible it was now just a
distant memory. The corpses piled up under his feet, and in the haze of a
nightmare that paled beside the waking world he walked on.

One more soul. One more life for Akibaal the great. Once he'd not been able
to bring himself to call him that. That too seemed a distant memory.

The familiar dream shifted, attention summoned by thought or coincidence,
but summoned nevertheless.

His black benefactor. The hand which directed him to do such terrible
things. Foraxien clung to that belief, a single lifeline which yet remained.
He had to believe he was compelled, at least in part.

The benefactor spoke to him of what he was to do. How Akibaal was pleased
by how many of those within the Empire were taking up the prayer to
bloodlust. It was not enough, though. They wanted more.

Always more.

"Bring us more."

The benefactor left. Foraxien had his orders. More would be turned to the
fiend's purpose, and the Empire was the means.

More war. More death. More enemies.

Foraxien felt a spike of profound hatred. He had not forgotten what had set
him on the road to damnation. It had all been the Outlanders doing. If not
for them, he would have never stumbled.

He walked the road of corpses, and despite his self delusion: in this he
was not compelled.