Living End

Part One:
A procession of groans and creaks let loose as Agricolas' bark skin slowly began to reshape itself. His hands extended towards the soil, branches and rootlike extensions began to form, gripping the earth slowly but surely, all the while the sun beamed down on the clearing. Many areas of the east coast had long since been ravaged by skirmishes of mutants, animals who survived the virus, and rogue empowered beings, now no more than long stretches of blank land, ghost town cities, and bulldozed natural sites. The proud, reborn Tom Butchski had fallen in easily with the Dynasty after recovering from what seemed an episode of madness, and although cautious and not quite aware of exactly how all of his capabilities worked, he set to make himself known, setting to bringing vibrant life to dead zones and giving an area nowhere near fit for agriculture more bountiful, fertile soil than had been seen in the natural world prior. His literal natural affinity meshed well with his dosage of divinity, and one thing he had quickly found out is well within his powers is restoring life to plants, soil, and even cleansing the air of dense pollution.

As he knelt onto the waking bed of life, he wore a serene expression. His position on the high council came easy after a demonstration of the destructive potential of his newfound power, but he quite knew that trust would come easier if he demonstrated how essential and effective he was in other ways. Though numbering significantly less than the United Society, there was a constant need for food and other life requirements, of which his powers were capable of providing in bountiful amounts, mostly by rejuvenating areas as he was doing so now.

It wasn't even minutes before a single sprout burst through the ground feet from where he stood, and soon the grassless clearing, once surrounded by the skeletal remains of long-dead fruitless trees was starting to become green. A sense of pride resonated within him as he bestowed the greatest divine blessing one could give: life. Though the fauna was still absent barring inhospitable violent monstrosities and maddened, diseased shamblers, he knew soon that life unperverted would return, under his noble, nurturing care.

In every way, he thought of how he exemplified a sharp contrast to the demeanor he received from his dubious, death-wielding council mate, who claimed to hold the same power. Although he had given the dark, almost skeletal figure of a man (or whatever he was,) a promise that he had his utmost trust, Tom's contempt for Necromaster had recently took root. Between his behavior, his secrecy, his constant entourage of disgusting creatures he had made himself, Necromaster emanated a number of things that didn't quite add well as a positive influence. Even the mysterious, dark power that Mandible wielded didn't quite bring his character into question anywhere near the skull-masked self-proclaimed "Master of Death."

The life-giving treeman shook himself of this ill path of thoughts, and glanced at his work. It wasn't quite the same as lifting the sunken remains of the furthest eastern coast, but the sight of a once dead span of land becoming fertile enough to grow this much (and what's more, at his command,) was empowering, as well as uplifting. He rose back to his feet, before a grating, rasping, familiar voice grabbed his attention. Even Necromaster's voice reeked of death and sowed mistrust. His unexpected, unwelcomed arrival had likely been no accident.

"Greetings, dear friend. I am hoping you are as pleasantly surprised by my arrival as I am to have finally found you."

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