Second Chance.

[Okor]

Okor paused for a moment, breathing in the uncomfortably pure air of the Nexus. The hourglass of infinity, constantly pouring the future onto itself, had vanished. All that was left was Okor, his ambient pestilence vanishing in this new land. Where once his very step promoted life, growing lichens and fungus under his tread, here it made no impact on the blank white slate of this new universe. He shrugged. This too shall pass. His raw red eye gazed over the horizon, seeking out a welcome variation on this uniform, disgusting purity. As he did so, Omnillium seeped from the cracks in his armour, the shimmering incandescence of the material flowing around his body, settling in the shape of a cloak. With a sudden cessation of light, the Omnillium vanished, replaced with a ratty, tan cloak. The edges were already ragged and dirty, mud, blood, and filth caking the hem. He reached up, pulling the rough cloth over the his helm, his horn finding a hole in the material, protruding from the hood. Taking a look over the surroundings once more, he set forth, the heavy tread of his boots silenced on the void of the Nexus.

How long had he been walking? The bone deserts of Hindrance seemed like a jaunty stroll to this. There, you were tested, assailed by the heat, by the Faithless, by the long walk to enlightenment. He silently chastised himself for his impudence. Patience was a virtue. When the universe itself was lost to ruin, that faithful would be there to watch it. Given the abrasive purity of the realm, stripping it to its rotting bones would be cathartic. He chuckled softly to himself. One day... One day... Across the horizon, he spotted a variation in the nothingness that defined the Nexus. A tall, slight figure, clad in metallic rings and cloth, facing away from him. How he thought it could protect him was beyond Okor. He shambled forward, his cloak shrouding his frame. To see something more than oblivion in this realm was a welcome change. He cupped his hands to his helm, and shouted at the newcomer. "Hail! May I ask your name, fellow traveler?" His voice was almost imposing itself upon reality, the tones grave and leaden. It was not the voice of a man, perhaps a man once, but now, much, much more.