There was no mistaking the sensation that rippled through his well-muscled frame, that feeling of ecstasy and disgust mixed together, a bittersweet desire awakening after so long. Opening his eyes slowly, he let them adjust to the light coming from outside his place of rest, staring at the crystalline ceiling above him as he sought out what had dragged him from his repose. Yes, it was there, faint but familiar, the presence of something he had thought lost long ago, from a time he had almost forgotten. Just feeling it again returned life to the body that hadn't moved in decades, the mans frame moving slowly, stiffly as it sat up, shoving aside the furs, pelts and hides of the various creatures he had killed for bedding. swinging his legs out from under the covers, he gingerly set them to the crystalline floor of his dwelling, wriggling his toes before pushing himself upright and catching himself before he fell over.
Every joint in his body cracked at least once, a sure sign he had been still for a great length of time, his spine cracking multiple times as he twisted his nude frame about, loosening and limbering himself up. Catching sight of himself in a reflection from a crystalline mirror, he turned, hands on hips as he studied what was revealed, a cruel smile curling his lips in admiration. He stood at least six feet tall, broad of shoulder and muscled like any warrior should be. Across his body were various scars, given to him from the countless battles he had waged against his arch-nemesis or what ever other prey crossed his path, giving him a fearsome appearance. His hair, once limp and grayed, now hung past his shoulders black as night and with a vitality it hadn't possessed since he had been young. His facial hair had gone under a similar change, though its length was nowhere near as impressive, remaining trim and tidy even after centuries had passed.
What he marveled at the most however, was the raw brute strength he now possessed, looking at his hands as he balled them into fists and relaxed, flexing his muscles and watching them move under sun-kissed skin. His fingertips soon drew his attention, their coloring different than he remembered, no longer that of a Humans nails. Flexing his fingers, he watched dispassionately as his fingertips altered themselves, darkening and elongating, becoming more like bestial or even demonic claws. Without any indication, he spun on the spot, slashing out with one hand and gouging deep marks into the thick demon-hide that had acted as his lower bedding, picking chucks of flesh from his nails with the same emotionless expression as when he had watched them change.
"It seems the wait was not in vain. We shall meet soon, 'young' Rogue. Let's hope you still prove worthy of my interests."
The mans voice was deep, scholarly yet just as cold and cruel as the smile had been moments earlier. Dressing himself in sturdy leather garb, trousers, boots, jerkin and vambraces, he looked towards a staff that lay on what could almost be called an altar. stepping towards it he lifted it from its brackets almost ceremonially, weighing it thoughtfully in his hands before stepping back a pace and swinging the weapon with practiced skill, but a speed he had only hoped for. Satisfied, he held the staff in one hand and examined himself in the mirror once more, the leather garb creaking slightly as the muscled frame within it shifted about.
Turning sharply, he strode with purpose towards the entrance to his dwelling, pushing aside the beast hide that hung there and stepped forth, coming to a halt a few paces away. Before him lay his personal 'hell', a nether realm filled with demonic servants, a personal army milling about and stretching out as far as the eye could see. All manner and shape of being lay before him, and with the raising of his staff and a bolt of violet lightning launching into the turbulent 'sky' overhead, they all turned their gaze to their leader, falling still and silent as they waited for his commands. Watching them all, the man lowered his staff, letting it butt gently against the crystalline ground he stood upon as he let them all suffer under his cold stare.
"The time has come. Find him, kill any that resist. I command thee!"
Three short sentences were all it took to work the horde into a frenzy of hooting, whooping, growling, flapping, hissing and every other form of commotion their varied forms could muster. Raising his staff once more, the mans eyes began to glow with strong red light, as if replaced with burning coals. With a wave of the staff, portals opened among the gathered demons, each sounding like tearing fabric and quiet whispers, the horde pouring through them to quickly do their masters bidding.
Setting the staff to rest again, he watched without feeling as his minions went out into the world, doing what ever they wanted to what ever they found, as demons often do. He cared not for the souls that were so unlucky as to be found by his army, he knew the message would get to its recipient soon enough.
Anthraxus still lived.
