quests

Bring them blood. 

He had laughed at first, a raucous sound that had erupted out of him in harsh and grating tones. Scraped against barely there vocal cords, before it had fizzled into a spark of anger. "Oh, now you want to get serious? Finally?" He had breathed it out in a low rumble, eye flashing even as his head had lifted, black ichor oozing from his half gone lips. It had dripped and hit the floor of the shrine, sizzling away as he drew in an agonizing breath. "It took becoming this to finally get you to give me something that was actually a challenge?" He had snarled it, a hoof crashing into the ground out of annoyance.

This meaning.. becoming a Lich. He had finally attained the status he had wanted so desperately, but even so, it wasn't enough. He was in constant agony, searing heat licking at his bones and flesh as he drew in shuddering gasps. Everything hurt, all the time, and he was angry all the time. Was that the price to pay for becoming a Lich? To become so powerful that he could feel himself practically breaking under the ability? 

"Fine." It had been a short response, and he had left with a determined scowl on his face.

Even so, he had come across several potentials. Giving his own blood seemed to be too easy; he wanted something else. However, he wouldn't be able to use his magic in this, oh no. He would have to spurn a fight out of someone. Using his magic risked simply boiling the blood away.

His first target had unfortunately been someone almost as large as him. Thick plating had adorned him, black and brown gradients dancing over his body, and his horn almost imposing. It had been a foolish fight to engage in, but he had to do it. Volund had attempted to coax the other into a fight with goading words, but all he had received in return was a cold and icy stare. He had been ignored, to the point where the anger had bubbled over, and he had lunged forward, swinging his head with sharp tusks that had practically glanced off the thick hide. From there, he had been attacked by sharp daggers that had caused a retreat, and a bubbling anger deep in his gut that only grew and grew.

What use was power, if he couldn't properly use it?

His next target seemed.. easier.

Bovid in nature, smaller. Covered in actual armor and with a wicked glare that made Vol smile in a hauntingly nasty way at him. He could see the hatred seething from the blond figure, the way he looked at him. Monster, most likely, was the thought the other had. But oh, he was so small and Volund was too angry and delirious to care how unfair it would be. 

Or so he had thought it would be.

It wasn't as unfair as predicted, really.

The fight had been rather evenly matched; Volund was in too much pain, every step wracking him as he had lunged for the hit. Of course the goat was able to skitter to the side. It hadn't stopped Vol from slamming his head down and forward with enough force that his tusks had collided with the aluminum alloy with a loud clang and sent the goat rolling several feet. He hadn't stopped there, either. Oh no. The goat had come back for him, wielding a sword that had whistled through the air. Volund had taken more than one hit from it, but the heat of his body also meant the sword wasn't as effective as the other had hoped. Any wounds were cauterized shut, and the pain only fueled his anger. Volund went for stomping, even, each step staggering forward with his massive weight. 

The two had ended in a stalemate, with Volund shuddering each breath, ichor dripping from his mouth and eye socket even more than it had, dripping to the ground as his head had lifted and he had snarled. "Fuck this. You're not worth my time." It had been an insulting jab as he had straightened. "I'll do this my fucking self." A mutter more toward himself, than anything, as he had walked away, both bruised and battered.

Which is why, now, he stands before Fortune's shrine with an angry glare set deep in his eye. A silent 'fuck you', really. But he needed this power, and he's desperate enough now to do this. Doesn't really care, even as the anger pops and bubbles under the surface. "Give me what I want." A demand, if anything, as his head dips down and he slices the front of his leg open with his tusk, blood oozing forward. It sizzles as it hits the ground, mingling with black ooze that drips down into it. It tangles, slips, forms a puddle that steadily treks toward the shrine itself, and he stands with heavier breaths. Each drag of his lungs makes him wince slightly, and he licks his teeth, tongue peeking out the side of exposed jaw, before he levels his gaze. 

"Grant me this power, and I won't bother you again. I'm sure you're tired of me by now. Or you're having fun with me, being a puppet to this," he utters, hoarser than usual.

The shudder shifts through him, and the pain he had to deal with became even stronger, but he could feel it. Feel the surge of power that runs over him and makes him choke on air, his lungs practically seizing before they stutter and work again, and he staggers. Power, power, power. 

"Just a little more." It's a wheeze under his breath, a whisper. A tiny increment more; he would be ready.