The rain smacked the forest floor hard. What had once been a reasonably dry earth was now almost muddy as a swamp that had flooded over. The sky above was covered by a huge collection of black rain clouds. The water didn't collect into puddles, but instead only added to the volume of mud. High above all the muck and below all the thuder of the massive clouds sat Onid. His legs were stretched out across a massive tree limb, and his back pressed against the trunk of the tree. He had managed to smell the rain before it hit, and he was lucky. Even for him movement would have been almost impossible, the mud had become like quicksand. Quicksand that would have left your torso free, then it would harden in the morning and one of the local animals would have had you corpse for an early morning meal. Onid had taken off all his swords and tied them with his belt to the tree limb next to him.

The canopy was vast enough to protect Onid from most of the rain, though there was the occasional drop every once in a while. His eyes scaned the area below for any signs of life that might need help in finding shelter. Onid though evil felt that this was no time to try and start conflict, besides he liked making people fight for their lives. He would do no such fighting as long as the rain kept up. He would have no room to even try and duel someone, if they tried to fight in the trees he would end up destroying a perfectly good shelter. If they went to the ground they would both be in trouble, but Onid was glad to see no one in the area.

Onid closed his eyes and he began to drift away in his thoughts. His new life had no found direction other than to end all life, but how was he to complete his goal. He need a set of goals that would lead him to his ultimate goal, but what could possibly lead him to that. If he helped Raku he would be helping his enemy, and he was not about to help Lothlomendil. No there had to be some way of wiping out all life from the planet. He had heard of a group called the army of the abyss, and there goals weren't that different, but his mind would not let him be a lap dog for some group. He thought maybe he should start his own group, but that required money and popularity in Arda. His presence was still virtually unknown, even when he was alive his existence had been minor. He had been one of the greatest martial artist aside from his brother and his master. Memories of that final battle filled his head, Raku's army had attacked his village in the early morning. They spared no one not even his family, Onid had tried to fend them off the best he could, but the vast war party was to much for even him. He was the last to die, which meant he was the only one who had to watch everyone else die. His body had been crushed by a very large orc, but he still lived unable to move. The orcs then thought of having fun with him, and all he could do was listen. His vision had become black from intense fatigue and his motor skills were gone. The orcs tied him to a spear and and set him on fire, but they did not let him die, they burned small portions at a time. He couldn't even manage to scream, all he could do was endure the pain. After they had, had their fun they threw him from a large hill that was to small to be called a mountain. His body was beaten against the rocks and plants, but his death came in the form of the lake. He felt the cool water as it smacked into his chest and the spear's wieghted tip carried him down into the depths below.

Onid flicked his eyes open and was once again filled with the rage that often came with his thoughts of the past. Onid needed something to focus on to help him keep his anger in check. Onid reached for his dagger and pulled it loose, he then reached over with his free hand and he ripped some bark of the tree. He began to carve away at the skin of the tree, making no spare for attention to detail. His carving at work would be what he wanted to see this world end up like, nothing but a lifeless rock.

A single shadow slipped in between the massive trees, seemingly untouched by the rain around it. The shadow floated across the mud soaked ground, the hem of his cloak immaculate and completely black, free of the mud that layered the ground. In his wake, he left a trail of dead and dying plants, they were unable to cope with brushing against the folds of his cloak. The very ground he walked on seemed to darken with his presence, and the air seemed heavier. Death stalked, there was no other word for it. His footfalls made no sound, and in the shade from the great trees he was little more than another black patch. The only thing visible of him was his hands, stark white against the black of his cloak. A small hourglass hung from around his neck, holding his cloak together. Occasionally his left hand would come up and stroke the hourglass, caressing the simple wooden shape. No one else knew what it was for, yet Death never let it out of his presence.

Up ahead a figure waited, seated in the trees to escape the torrential rain that turned the forest into a swamp. An undead figure from what Death could see, although that fact made little difference to him, as even the undead met him eventually. From the looks of the figure, it was a warrior, for Death could see a bundle of weapons in the tree nearby. The figure was violently carving away at a piece of wood that he had ripped from the bark, taking out his frustrations on the chunk of tree. Without a sound, Death went from a horizontal walk to a vertical climb, sliding up the trunk of the great tree with ease. His cold, fingers gripped the bark easily, never once thinking that he would fall. Death's eyes shone from the cowl of is hood, darting constantly over the path he would take up to the figure. If the figure happened to look and see him, it didn't matter. What could the undead do to Death?

Eventually, Death stopped when he became level with the figure seated in the trees. Still gripping the tree trunk with his hands, Death turned his gaze to the undead, watching him coldly. From the looks of things, the undead wasn't looking for a fight, and if he was, then he would do well to find someone else. Death had become stronger than ever before, and anything the undead tried would fail, and he would die, again. Now that he was up in the trees, the rain was partially blocked, although Death ignored the rain as much as he ignored those that weren't important. Looking back down the trunk of the tree, he could see black prints up the trunk that matched his hands. The tree was strong enough that it didn't die, but it was still affected by his presence. One could clearly see the path he had taken up to the tree and then up the tree. Death looked back up at the undead seated nearby, anyone that tried to follow him would meet with a swift demise, so it mattered little if he left a trail. What mattered right now was what he was going to do with this interesting person in the tree.

His carving was now a picture of him standing over a mountain of dead bodies, he hoped that he could soon make that a reality. He was still unsure how he was going to complete his goal, but he knew he would find the answer one day. His days had already been numbered once, but he would not let time bother him. He was already dead and his body never showed signs of decomposing. He was still unsure what he was exactly, but he knew that he was one of a kind. He threw his carving down into the abyss of mud that awaited below. For now his dream was still a dream. Onid sheathed his dagger back over into the bundle of his weapons and once again found himself alone in the storm. His eyes focused on the land below, the storm was letting up anytime soon. He thought about leaving and using the trees as a means to leave. He really didn't wanted to take the time to traverse the tree tops though, he decided he would wait for a few more hours and then hopefully the rain would stop and the ground might start to become hard once more.

Onid had a sense of paranoia come about him, he felt as though he was being watched. He scanned the ground below and then the trees in front of him. Nothing. He tried to shake the feeling and go on with his thought, but something kept his paranioa up. Onid caught something out of the corner of his eye. Without looking he began to reach for his dagger once more, but he stopped suddenly. He wasnn't sure why his hand decided to stop moving, but something told him that was unwise. There was only one option that he had, and it was his own personal intrest that made him look over. His expression remained calm as he looked at the black figure that had climbed up his tree.

"What manner of creature are you?" He thought it was Raku at first, but now the sense of power though intense was nothing when compared to the dark God's. This being however seemed to be stronger than any other he had encountered before. The feeling of death reached over the area and across Onid. This being was no creature, but his power felt as if death itself. Onid had been wrong he would not find the answer that would help him complete his goal, the answer had found him. Onid was sure that this being that clung to the tree was Death itself. Though Onid didn't want to pledge his alligance to anyone, he felt compelled to do so to Death. He might have just been paraniod, but it didn't matter this being felt like Death to him and that was all that mattered. "..Please forgive me, I did not realize whom I spoke to." Maybe Onid would be able to join this being of death and help make his dream come true, or maybe this being would end him. Either one worked for Onid, to many times had he welcomed Death and it looked like he might get his wish. He still hated this world and would not care to leave it, but he wanted to make this world suffer before he did. Whatever happened was no longer within his power, it all rested within the hands of Death.