Alan enjoyed his death. It was a quiet release from a life of pure and unimaginable pain. Finally free he was completely prepared to give up his body. But then something pulled him back in, some dark force. A pulse of horrible pain, ever so slowly drawing him back to life. Alan cursed his beating heart. And then he cursed himself for what he did.
He’d been a scientist once, trying to save the world one experiment at a time. But simple science betrayed him, it had limits, it couldn’t cure every illness instantly, it couldn’t fix every injury, it couldn’t save everyone. In the end it felt useless to even try. And that’s when temptation came in the form of an old scroll handed to him by a seemingly insane beggar. At first it was simple curiosity that caused him to look into the strange symbols that littered the scroll. But soon it became an obsession, he couldn’t get the symbols out of his mind and soon he began to take more and more extreme measures to find their origins. Eventually his search led him to a strange cult which worshipped ancient knowledge. They claimed the signals had mystic power, that this power could be used to save the world. They could only translate one of the symbols Alan brought to them. It was the symbol of Rot.
Alan didn’t truly join the cult, he may have taken part in their ceremonies, he may have said their prayers, he may have made their sacrifices, but he was never faithful. He never actually had the faith in their ideas; his obsession was in the possibilities of the symbols, their possible applications for the world. He had the most noble of goals. The cultist wished to hide the symbols, to only allow for themselves to use their power. So Alan committed the greatest sin among the cult, he stole knowledge. But his plan to bring the symbols to the world, and so he was punished, placed in a state of constant life and death by the power of the symbols.
And so Alan waited, finally praying in true faith, praying for death. But instead something very different came his way. Alan didn’t hear a word the man spoke to him, but the second the man was gone Alan was free. He could barely move, but he was free. And there was a very big scythe sitting right in front of him, the symbol of Rot etched onto it. Alan gave a mad grin.
After slaughtering his way through the cult he finally reached the outside world. He was far from any civilization, but he didn’t care. In his torment he had accepted madness, he now knew the sweet mercy of death and he was prepared to bring it the world. Blood dripped from his hand as he carved the symbol into his flesh. The blood soon stopped as his body quickly healed the curse of undeath still upon. But the symbol stayed. Alan felt power flowing through him, his goal was becoming more and more clear. “Rot.” He said, and then he let out a mad laugh as he headed towards the nearest signs of civilization.
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