Sometimes Dead is Better

He stood at the mouth of the billowing mountain, and lifted his head to call those that remained in the carcass of Ruina. They were his family; his true family, members of the Praetor line that he had sworn to, and he would not abandon them now like his miserable father had. Tyranis was a man of action and a man of opportunity, he would not let his family fall to ruin simply because his father had done what was so underlyingly in character for him and disappeared. They would not fall. In his call he summoned his uncle and his father’s latest get, along with whatever fellow bastards wandered the mountain searching for a purpose. It was up to him now, to give them sanctuary and a higher calling.

In the far reaches of his mind Tyranis heard the soft mutterings of what he had been told were the demons of the mountains. The spirits of Ruina. In spite of his father’s abandonment they remained and they continued to protect the Praetor line. He would do for them what his father had been too cowardly to do. His blood would rule an empire, and nothing would stand in his way.

speaking Thinking