• A man with a black eye patch walks towards an abandoned farm, his collar pulled up against the biting cold. His gait is that of an old, old man. A man who has seen the world and its troubles. A man who has been forgotten. Ravens fly in lazy circles above him. Lupine eyes watch him from a distance.

    He stops in the center of the ruins, eyes slowly taking in his surroundings. Buildings are decaying. Farm tools have been left to rot. Still, the man smiles, for he senses a kindred spirit. This land too used to be great, used to soak in the toil of hundreds of mortal lives and bask in their unending sacrifice.

    .And this land too has been abandoned, lost, and forgotten. And this land too yearns for the days long past, when many depended on it and its offerings. Sadly, yearning does nothing, and it lies abandoned still. Just like the man.

    He raises his arms and basks in the residual energies of the land’s days of glory, soaking it in, and for a few moments he forgets the never ending pain and thirst, want and need that plagues him. But only for moments. With a tired sigh, he silently calls to his companions.

    Silent wolves flank either side of him. Ravens flock to perch in the great gnarled tree that spreads its bare branches above him. They wait.

    The man closes his eyes and remembers.

    The first light, consciousness, awareness pierces him like a spear; a confusing mass of colors, sounds, and smells that suddenly solidifies into one coherent mass.

    His eye slips from his hand into the well, taking with it any sanity he had left. With the release comes the knowledge of the world, beautiful, terrible, and obscene, but more precious than any.

    Hundreds of men dive into battle, screaming his name. He stands on the hilltop leaning on his spear. The rich smell of blood and sacrifice drifts up to him; satisfies him and quenches his ever present thirst. His companions race down to partake in the feast mortal wars have created for them.

    Painted revelers twirl in a frenzy, dancing a dance more ancient than the universe. A dance of life and death. A dance of love and fear. His dance.

    He visits his shrine, but no sacrifices await him. Anger and confusion overtake him, but he cannot punish a people that no longer believe in him. Worship him.

    He fades….

    A door opens in front of him, full of swirling nothingness. The door to oblivion. The forgotten god steps through, welcoming his final rest, leaving the farm to it's abandonment. His companions follow.