Do what it takes to survive. . .

"Congratulations.." The old leader managed to gurgle out, blood pooling at the corners of his mouth. "The west belongs to you now." Jormungand looked down at the man, his eyes holding a mixture of fear, accomplishment, and shock. He had been planning this day for a long time, a long time. He had planned every moment, every step until he could picture how it would go to a 'T'. Yes, so much planning had gone into this, but he hadn't planned on himself actually becoming leader. He hadn't wanted to be a leader, he had only wanted better for his people. But here he was, the end of his sword buried deep withing the old ruler, and as he watched the life slowly leave the older mans eyes, he felt a panic take hold of his mind. It was interrupted, though, as a soft cold laughter filtered through his rampant emotions. "You look terrified....do you regret your actions?" Jormungands eyes flew to the older mans face. "You have...beaten me. This is your responsibility now..." A grin formed on his face, making the man look almost as hellish as he had been while fighting. "And I will watch as you adapt to your position...as the years tear you apart...and I will watch as you slowly...slowly...become one and the same as me.....take heed...of those...words..." Jormungands breath quickened as the man finally passed, his last breath carried away by a small breeze. He was the ruler of the West now...him...and only him. He was the successor....the realization terrified him.

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