Godlings, Whispers in the Void [IC]

[Tyrann]

Denied the satisfaction of breaking his fist on the orc's ample cranium, Everett found himself suspended in mid-air, a simmering fury radiating from his gaze as he beheld the ethereal dance of white flames that was once Grakthar.

As his breath gradually steadied, a disquieting realization dawned upon him - the very essence of his being was undergoing a profound transformation, fueled by this strange energy.

With each passing moment, he felt the contours of his form being perfected, the scars of humiliations long past fading into oblivion, and the persistent ache of old wounds evaporating into the void. Yet, amidst this metamorphosis, a disquieting question gnawed at his soul - were not those very scars and pains the crucibles that forged his identity? What if his wrath, fueled by the agony of his past, was the essence of him? Or worse yet, the cornerstone of his continued existence? Because lurking beneath the surface of this strange triumph was a haunting uncertainty - if his fury were to diminish, would he too be consumed by the conflagration? Would he, like the ephemeral flames of Grakthar, be reduced to naught?

The irony of his plight was paralyzing his thoughts, and so the path forward would remain veiled in mystery. All he felt, deeply, was an imperative to endure, to survive at any cost. Somehow, some way, if he just raged hard enough, there would be a happier conclusion, however faint its whispers.

And so, in a desperate bid to stave off oblivion, Everett clung tenaciously to his rage, allowing it to envelop him, to consume him whole. With a wild gleam in his eyes and a reckless grin etched on face, he was about to burst out laughing. Yet, as the tendrils of his fury coiled tighter around his consciousness, he was suddenly jolted from his solitary reverie by the realization that he was not alone.

The girl, who seemed to have lost her mother to the inferno, as well as the two figures who had played a role in provoking Grakthar, all now bathed in the same incandescent aura as himself. He swallowed hard, a heavy sigh escaping his lips before he addressed them.

"Are we safe?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and uncertainty. "And for the gods' sakes, man, have some compassion. I don't know what happened to your mother, girl. But it's probably not good, and I'm so sorry." He let that hang in the air for a few seconds. "As for you two," he gestured towards the others, "I do not know what happened between you and Grakthar, and I don't understand any of this. But I do know this - if there is a way to undo this, to un-inferno these people.. then I'll help any of you search for it."