"Hmn-hn, you all know the rules. The Spirit governing must come forth to collect the servant upon his death, as are his orders from the beginning.

Iaurdagnire is Spring's investment.
Spring's hand must be forced from hiding so that the cycle can continue, so that Autumn can finally take her place and move life along...

The investment's life must be threatened. He must die.

I warned that dark places must be searched in order to carry out what must be the end. Intellect will say no, you mustn't murder a friend... a brother, a father. However, wisdom will tell you otherwise, and show you that your dear old Dag has been running away from his place in this world long enough. Wisdom will tell you there is, in fact, a balance in what surrounds you.

And that Iaurdagnire's death, is it."

Calm, persistent, strong, with a vision of what kind of a life he wanted, and the will to endure endless trials in his journey of getting it. That is how others saw him - unchallengeable in fighting for something so simple, and honourable in defending with his life the right for others to share in this vision. Dag was steadfast in his belief that there needn't be a reason to live, other than living. So why should he - anyone - heed to anything greater? Nothing is greater than where you are, what you're doing, who you're with in one second to the next. It's all you. And everyone has a place where they can access this sense of power and belonging; being happy in ones own skin. A place where the world stands still, and you're filled with a sense of absolute clarity.

Once in that place, there is a breath you take that signals this passage into a deeply perceptive state of being. Shoulders lax and there is a prickly twinge in your spine as the body relaxes. Sights, smells, sounds, everything is experienced at once and the ability to process it all slows. You are simply there, and the world is there with you.

This is how the giant felt sat at the very summit of Dandelion Hill, with its single namesake stood proudly behind him watching all who pass by and greeting those who climb to see him. Though, there have been very few visitors as of late, his roars in the night keeping all manner of creatures away... except the Corvidae. He didn't mind their raucous cawing above him whenever he would wake. They would bounce from their perch and glide down again to settle as if watching over, waiting.

Their presence was regarded as an omen, and one which Dag had gradually accepted in time. That is all anything takes, time... and once you've lost it, there is no way of getting it back. All the defiant brute did was fight it off, let it linger a little more, and now the ability to remain in a stationary existence would be the very undoing of it all.

Gods and their lackeys are liars.
Great Deceivers.

So be the one to allow me, a servant, rend and split asunder. Be the one to let chaos envelope the world around you, to scoff at my power in contempt while you watch from on high.

Be the mad King who finally gained control in the destruction. Because they deceived you.
They allowed us to take from you, and the world be taken from us in turn.
They are ungrateful. Undeserving of their own creations. You remember, don't you?

"I provide the world what it needs to grow and take away what hinders it.. And they in turn take the gifts I bestow away in the hopes of something better... There is no such thing as contentment; a race of life is never happy. They will always want more."

Together, we are the ones who are the End.

The gentle sound of heavy hooves coaxes the giant back from an almost trance-like state. His eyes are glazed over, and the fog-obscured pinks and dull stormy blues of dawns first light cast harsh shadows over his square face. The monumental antlers of Scar-Giant rake the sky as he turns to see a figure standing directly behind him at the bottom of the hill, and at once he chuckles expectantly and turns away.

"You took your time, didn't you? A part of me always knew."

Dag spoke drearily, almost as if he were still asleep. There is something very untidy about him, like he honestly didn't care for whatever had graced him with its presence. His ears snapped back thinking he'd heard a quiet disgruntled growl, but perhaps he was mistaken in the silence of his friend, there, standing at the bottom of the hill. The high wall of the Ruins casting all but the tips of his antlers in blackness.

"I'm afraid you're too late. For once, dear friend, I have accepted my fate. It is just unfortunate that it is also the fate of others."

There is a distinctive thump of a defiant step out of the dark in reaction to Dag's increasingly flippant remarks. They were both the epitome of forbearance, but it appears one had noticed a gradual weakness in their brethren's resolve.

"Distance is something you and I are masters of. It is testament to our strength that we can maintain it. That, is our instinct. To always be in control. I thought for a while that I had lost control in all this... But the truth is, I never had any to begin with. Until now."
An exasperated sigh scatters the layer of pollen coating the hill, and he stands, taking a breath and giving a side-ways glance to his shadowed companion.
"The pond will dry up first."
Spoken with the driest tone, deliberately thick with condescension. Any shred of honour and dignity the great stag is known for disappeared in that moment, and the equally large bull - still stood calm as the breeze at the bottom of the hill - held in equally high respects, glowered from behind his mask.

The time he had spent tormenting himself over what he must do; what he thought would be in the much loved giant's best interest. Surely he would have been understanding, allowing of what he must do no matter how difficult. Endurance; Iaurdagnire was right. He must endure, for there were very few who could take on the burden of killing their gentle and adored Fortress of the forest. But instead he is met with a creature that is callous and utterly indifferent to the meaning behind his words.

It was heart breaking, to hear such things coming from him.
An unsuspecting sadness.
Iaurdagnire had now given him a greater reason to go through with what must be done. Not because he must in lieu of Velocity's whispers. Not because of some honourable duty from one friend to the other. But because by going back on his way of life, and in abandoning everything righteous and good he had ever stood for, he was turning his back on those who helped him. Those who stood by him, and sought him for safe-guardianship he is now defiling.

The dependable and popularly laconic friend could hold his tongue no longer.