Zakarien

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Out in the woods of one of Zakrein's mountainous landscapes, an ebony armored man made his way through the woods. He carried no weapon, and the only thing he wore other than the armor was red cloth hanging from his spaulders and tasset. He bent down and scooped up some dirt and clenched his fist around it. He laughed quietly. "...This world is ripe..." He began walking onward again. As he would make his way through the woods, animals would run in an instinctive fear. Singing birds would fall immediately silent, and the wind did not blow.

After hours of walking, he made his way to the gates of a small city, and began looking up and down its walls. "...It's a start..." He would begin walking toward the main gate, his metal feet clanking with each step eerily.

As the last of the undead fell, Ouroboros, seemingly randomly, decided to run from the battlefield, disappearing into the ground, and not coming back up. Where he'd gone to was anyone's guess...

Before the last of the undead could fall, Skaer had it in a death grip at the neck. "Speak or never do so again damned creature." He rasped, knowing very well that it was probably an emotionless husk. He gripped it's neck tighter, sweat rolled in beads down the back of his neck as he could feel the bone beginning to crack in his hand. "Artoquais Delo Raunero" "Let me feel your knowledge" As he spoke these words, he felt everything the creature had seen through himself, and everything it had experienced in it's past life. "Useless damn you" he thought as he clenched his fist. Fragments of bone splintered away and the head fell to the ground, while in a swift motion he threw the rest of the body aside.