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Wither;
1. To wilt, fade or lose vitality.
2. To Decay, decline or disintegrate.
At the dawn of this world, in the humble beginnings of this vast existence the breath of life fell upon many of us. It touched out to all the corners, beyond the barriers of realm and dimension. A colourful existence came to be because life breathed into everything and of this existence were the majestic creatures born from the light. The ancient ones...
Long ago the ancient ones led the dawn of creation. They emerged forth from pure light, their beauty like the petals of a rose; delicate, intricate, stunningly beautiful. They were mighty beings that strove forth unto this world and cultivated the seeds of life as they were sown. From their nurture and care new life came forth into this world knowing they would leave in a peaceful, happy place.
The ancient ones were wise, just as they were powerful. For many years they lived untainted by any desires beyond the good of all. Many years, but not forever. The Ancient Ones lived by laws created at the beginning of their existence in order to preserve the peace of this world and prevent them from falling to the corrupted ways of darkness. One such rule was held above all else; The Ancient ones are never to spill the life from a creature of this world.
Dark days came for the Ancient ones.
Darkness had begun to coil around them, choking them further and further. They were pushed to their limits, tested against their own laws by the dark forces that had begun to spring up into this world. One day, the blood of the ancient ones spilled across the peace of the world.
There is one, who's name shall never again be spoken. Valiantly, he tried to fight off the darkness. Without the ability to kill, this being attempted to ward them off, for the sake of his own love. It was in vain, the darkness could not be stopped merely by his will alone. That was the day the Ancient ones fell, for as her blood stained the cold floor of the Ancient city a new seed was planted into he who shall not be named. Rage, pure and vengeful.
The ancient one killed. The darkness was destroyed, but so had it been re-born within the Ancient one himself. He killed again, not once, not twice. Again and again. As each death came so did the Ancient loose the light of his heart. The Ancient ones shunned him as an outcast, never to be welcomed into the light again.
Like a rose he tore through the darkness much as thorns tear through those who do not tread lightly. Only, he tore through himself as he did so, not realizing what he was becoming. Starved of both his own people and the light, he began to decay. The petals of the rose began to wilt and shrivel, leaving nothing but a bare skeleton of its former self. The Ancient one was nothing more then an image of death and darkness. One day he lay down and allowed his existence to end so that he might spread his vile no more.
Yet this was not the end. Through the evil, nightmarish powers of the nether realm, the fallen one had life brought back into him. Twisted, corrupted life. He returned to this world in the same vile state he had left it, a dark and decaying horror with all the shame of what he had done tormenting his mind. He went mad, twisted to insanity by what he was. Now he is just another beast of the darkness, corrupted and wilted.
This creature who fell from grace and decayed to darkness is known...
As the Wither...
Congratulations for reading this far, I hope you enjoyed my personal theory about how the wither came to be. The Wither's attacks and appearance specifically tie in with its name so I hope that you all realize that now that you have read this story. It was made to poison and suck the life out of weary travelers.
(NOTE: definition of wither was taken from www.thefreedictionary.com/wither)
Diamond if you liked it, favorite if you loved it and subscribe to see more...
Feedback is encouraged.
1. To wilt, fade or lose vitality.
2. To Decay, decline or disintegrate.
At the dawn of this world, in the humble beginnings of this vast existence the breath of life fell upon many of us. It touched out to all the corners, beyond the barriers of realm and dimension. A colourful existence came to be because life breathed into everything and of this existence were the majestic creatures born from the light. The ancient ones...
Long ago the ancient ones led the dawn of creation. They emerged forth from pure light, their beauty like the petals of a rose; delicate, intricate, stunningly beautiful. They were mighty beings that strove forth unto this world and cultivated the seeds of life as they were sown. From their nurture and care new life came forth into this world knowing they would leave in a peaceful, happy place.
The ancient ones were wise, just as they were powerful. For many years they lived untainted by any desires beyond the good of all. Many years, but not forever. The Ancient Ones lived by laws created at the beginning of their existence in order to preserve the peace of this world and prevent them from falling to the corrupted ways of darkness. One such rule was held above all else; The Ancient ones are never to spill the life from a creature of this world.
Dark days came for the Ancient ones.
Darkness had begun to coil around them, choking them further and further. They were pushed to their limits, tested against their own laws by the dark forces that had begun to spring up into this world. One day, the blood of the ancient ones spilled across the peace of the world.
There is one, who's name shall never again be spoken. Valiantly, he tried to fight off the darkness. Without the ability to kill, this being attempted to ward them off, for the sake of his own love. It was in vain, the darkness could not be stopped merely by his will alone. That was the day the Ancient ones fell, for as her blood stained the cold floor of the Ancient city a new seed was planted into he who shall not be named. Rage, pure and vengeful.
The ancient one killed. The darkness was destroyed, but so had it been re-born within the Ancient one himself. He killed again, not once, not twice. Again and again. As each death came so did the Ancient loose the light of his heart. The Ancient ones shunned him as an outcast, never to be welcomed into the light again.
Like a rose he tore through the darkness much as thorns tear through those who do not tread lightly. Only, he tore through himself as he did so, not realizing what he was becoming. Starved of both his own people and the light, he began to decay. The petals of the rose began to wilt and shrivel, leaving nothing but a bare skeleton of its former self. The Ancient one was nothing more then an image of death and darkness. One day he lay down and allowed his existence to end so that he might spread his vile no more.
Yet this was not the end. Through the evil, nightmarish powers of the nether realm, the fallen one had life brought back into him. Twisted, corrupted life. He returned to this world in the same vile state he had left it, a dark and decaying horror with all the shame of what he had done tormenting his mind. He went mad, twisted to insanity by what he was. Now he is just another beast of the darkness, corrupted and wilted.
This creature who fell from grace and decayed to darkness is known...
As the Wither...
Congratulations for reading this far, I hope you enjoyed my personal theory about how the wither came to be. The Wither's attacks and appearance specifically tie in with its name so I hope that you all realize that now that you have read this story. It was made to poison and suck the life out of weary travelers.
(NOTE: definition of wither was taken from www.thefreedictionary.com/wither)
Diamond if you liked it, favorite if you loved it and subscribe to see more...
Feedback is encouraged.
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