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[Exelioth]

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"You do understand that he's down there..."

Tenebrous shot his opponent one of those glares that comes once in a lifetime...the downside being that when gods do it amongst one another, it tends to fall flat.

"I warned you. Mingling amongst them...could produce complications."

The Atalan god strode heavily, brushing past his godly comrade. This turn of events was beyond unfortunate. He so wanted to cut loose of the mortal coil, he had labored to produce a proper redemption amongst his deitic peers, but yet again it seemed his would-be worshipers had lost faith. Inner might took hold as he shouted aloud to the Pantheon:

"NOT AGAIN!"

Tenebrous took a knee, a knurled fist held to his jaw. The eyes of the gods circled him like sharks seeking to devour the source of the bloodstain Tenebrous had left in the waters below. Rising, the Atalan Emperor of an age long since forgotten, crossed his arms in defiance to the pantheon of gods that had neither the reason or inclination to forgive what they considered to be an upstart...

...a youngling.

Tenebrous shed a single tear when he left the Last Order of the Atalan...a by-product of his mortal form at the time. As the pantheon glowered down upon him this time, his face glowed with a confidence only self-revelation can provide. He had heard of the human tales of the amazing "light at the end of existence, one which would carry a soul over" to the the next life...

...as a god, Tenebrous knew the facts, and they were seldom as pleasant as a mortals fiction.

Feeling his existence being torn away from him, Tenebrous experienced the very human trait of his life flashing before his eyes. As the fingers of the gods began to tear him apart, his mind drifted to his Atalan kin. Adaron, the scout without sight...one that could swat a hawk from its perch a half-heartbeat before it could beat its wings to flee...

The Halda'Sul...the complicated Strategist, one who struggled with his self-perceived failure at Kaane's Crossing...a false sin he bore, and one that would torment his mind until the end of his days.

And the remainder of his mind fell upon Asimov, the Atalan he loved more than any other. The arrogant, leaderless leader. It was vital to the Order that no one knew of Tenebrous' admiration for the mortal Atalan who was the true leader of his people. The crisis of faith would have been far too detrimental. There were thoughts of pride, coupled with those of regret. The weakening thoughts were of the comradeire that was shared, as begrudged as it might have been at times....

Tenebrous felt the Eyes of the Pantheon upon him, attempting to tear his mark from the minds of mortal man. It was at this point that the Emperor locked his elbow against the inevitable. "You win in this arena, fools...but those whom I place a trust you could never hope to understand, will carry on in my stead. You can take me, but my memory will simply inspire..."

The eyes of the god Pantheon rose to an blaze that consumed the young Atalan god who managed but a single syllable before his betters took all he was.

...Exelioth.
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"Beware the fury of a patient man."