Maxwell Haze

The myth of the gargoyle king
In the forest deep and mist just as thick, lies a stone with a blade sharp enough to cut a wick. It lies and twists as it waits for another greed filled wrist. For a needle might sting but a sword... may just make you king. For many have fallen for the stone surprise, and yet it still waits looking to catch someone new to take on its accursed traits.

The forest
After being chased off of the road by an angry mob of people protesting against his ideas and their recent changes, Maxwell had found himself in a ditch deep in a unknown forest. Looking around all he could see was trees and mist. Still laying in the ditch he landed in, he made up his mind to take a detour and walk through the forest to his next stop, a much preferred path rather than returning to the mob of people waiting for him at the entrance to the forest.

A path to unfold
The forest was dense with trees and bushes blocking many paths that were already pathed into the ground of the forest and that were already explored. Almost as if the trees were forcing him to go somewhere, they aligned them selves to form a single open path leading deeper into the mist surrounding him at all times. The path seemed to grow longer and longer as he walked. The time he spent on that un paved path grew from a couple of hours into days, from days into months. After nearly a year of walking the path and pondering about the time he had spent in that accursed forest he finally began to lose hope and give up. After falling asleep he felt a sudden shift in the ground underneath him.

The end of the path
As the ground twisted and turned under his feet he fell through into a hole waiting underneath the ground he had been walking on for the past year. At the bottom of that hole, a sword with a jagged blade covered in runes and a carved wooden hilt, waiting for him to fall and die. As he hit the point of the sword his spine cut in half and his body on the brink of death. For a split second whilst taking his last breath he thought "If only I could have seen my family once again". His body lying there lifeless pierced on the point of the sword his body began to harden and repair. The hole he had in his chest suddenly sealing itself and hardening to resemble stone and his entire body progressively following the same path. As the sudden transformation had reached his back, two wings sprung out of his coat ripping it apart in the process.

A change to notice
As he woke from his death, still in shock, he had not realized the sword going through his chest nor his skin now turned to stone. All he wanted at that moment was to get out of the damned hole he had been dropped into over a day ago. After struggling to climb out he had finally made it out. Not the same person he once was but now much more than a simple man. As he stood in the cold air of the cursed forest he had finally realized that something was off. As he looked down the first thing he had noticed the sword that had split his spine in half and that had killed him before, when reaching the pull it out he had seen that his skin had been turned to stone and that his back had become heavier than before. As soon as he had pulled out the sword he had looked around to see what had been stuck to his back. Falling back at the sight of the wings that had grown out of his back. The political trip that was suppose to be a short presentation had turned into a year of suffering. Now changed forever he had put on a suit he had gotten as a present from his father a long time ago. A armored suit that covered all of his skin and a scarf to cover his face.

The tales of old
From a young age Maxwell had loved stories about monsters and mythical creatures and the tales of their horrible actions. Among all of the stories and myths there was one that stood out. A tale of a stone king with wings on his back and a cursed blade in his hand. It was the myth of the gargoyle king. The story had seemed like nothing but a far fetched tale made up by someone just like all the other ones he had heard, but something about it seemed... truthful. Even when he had grown up he would had always had a copy of the myth with him as it seemed to be one of the rare things one could call familiar on the long travels and lonesome roads that lead from town to town and from one nation to many others. As time had passed he could swear he started to see messages of the tale appear everywhere, almost as if it were leading him to a future untold and unknown, almost like that forest that had lead him to his final fate.

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