Out of Character:
I'm doing that numbers thing where I try to complete a thread as fast as I could.
The concept of friends and foes was an interesting one. Outside of Eluriand, Homun was known as an ally to the forces assaulting the elves. However, once he got south of Carnelost, he was an enemy to both. The same creatures he was fighting alongside were now attempting to kill him as he made his way through The Red Forest. Following the battle of Eluriand, Homun was hot on the trail of his target: Xem'zûnd. However, doubt was spreading throughout his system like wildfire. During the great battle, a voice had pervaded his mind. A voice similar to the one he possessed before he conquered his previous incarnation.
Light made its way through the openings in the forest canopy onto the mossy ground, passing through the branches of tall, red-leaved trees. White, wispy dust passed through the air, creating almost-magical streams of earth through the air. His destination was where Xem'zûnd was reported to have gone: The Obsidian Spire.
The voice was quiet as he made this journey, his own thoughts silent on the matter. It was a strange feeling, like anticipation and dread at the same time. All this time he has wanted to evolve, to feed his desires and his appetite for power, but what if that evolution will change who he has become up to this point? Will he, in essence, cease to exist when he reaches the next stage of his evolution? Despite these warnings, he continued on his path to power. He simply didn't know what else to do. The last few weeks have been devoted entirely to the pursuit of Xem'zûnd, and to lose himself before achieving this goal was unthinkable.
The kinds of beings that attacked him through the forest were odd. He nearly tripped over a few vines that tried to wrap themselves around his legs. Zombies of all kinds sought to make war. He saw animals of almost indiscernible features look at him through bright, shining eyes and then disappear into the darkness. As he got deeper and deeper, the smell of fresh air was replaced with the smell of rotting meat. The light was replaced by a permanent shadow cast over his surroundings, the very trees slumped with missing sections of rotted bark. In the growing darkness, the leaves were most rust-colored than anything, with patches of brown and even black.
Homun didn't know whether he was getting closer to the tower or not, and he was starting to think. Not just about a subject other than his pursuit of the great necromancer himself, but of topics he had never thought about before. Of the purpose of his existence, of what he was, of his future. Worry was a new emotion for him, and he was stuck in it. He knew his end was coming, but he didn't know how or why.