Information

Anomander Rake
Legacy Name: Anomander Rake

The Custom Arid Paralix
Owner: Hellian

Age: 15 years, 4 months, 3 weeks

Born: June 16th, 2011

Adopted: 15 years, 4 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: June 16th, 2011

Nominate Pet for Spotlight

Statistics

• Level: 26
   
• Strength: 11
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 23
   
• Books Read: 23
• Food Eaten: 2
• Toys Played: 10
• Job: Seed Packer

There are those who believe that Anomander Rake was born of darkness, and that darkness would be his only companion until the end of all things. They were, for the most part, correct. He had walked beneath dying skies, watched kingdoms rise and crumble into dust, and carried the sorrow of an entire people upon shoulders that had never truly been allowed to rest. He had known gods, challenged the impossible, and stood at the edge of oblivion more times than he cared to remember. There had been wars enough to fill a thousand lifetimes. Names he still remembered, though the world had long since forgotten them. Faces that visited him in the quiet hours, when even the moon seemed reluctant to look upon the earth. He had loved. He had lost. And, in the end, he had endured.But even the Son of Darkness, it seemed, could grow tired. And so, when the last great obligations had finally loosened their grip, Anomander Rake did something entirely unexpected. He retired. His new kingdom was a modest patch of earth, enclosed by old stone walls and bordered by climbing roses. There were no armies to command, no ancient grudges to settle, and no desperate souls arriving at his doorstep seeking salvation. Instead, there were weeds to pull, vegetables to tend and an alarming number of slugs that appeared to have declared war upon his lettuce. He found gardening surprisingly demanding. The soil, unlike most gods, refused to be intimidated. Seeds required patience. Roses had thorns, and apparently no respect whatsoever for the dignity of an ancient Tiste Andii lord. He had once faced down forces that threatened the very fabric of existence, yet spent an entire afternoon attempting to persuade a stubborn pear tree to flourish. It was, he decided, a worthwhile exchange.Occasionally, old acquaintances would cross his mind. Cotillion, with his quiet amusement and the peculiar habit of appearing precisely where he was least expected. Apsalar, whose life had been shaped by forces no young woman should ever have endured. And Icarium, whose kindness had always seemed so terribly at odds with the destruction that followed him. He wondered, sometimes, whether they would recognise him now. Perhaps Cotillion would laugh. Perhaps Apsalar would approve of the roses. Icarium might find the old sundial fascinating and spend several hours trying to understand its mechanism. The thought brought something dangerously close to a smile. There was, however, one other resident of the garden. A black cat. It had arrived one autumn morning without invitation, explanation or apparent interest in the fact that its new landlord was Anomander Rake. It simply appeared upon the garden wall, regarded him with two golden eyes, and proceeded to make itself comfortable upon his favourite bench. Anomander had offered it no name. The cat had offered no explanation. They understood one another perfectly.It slept upon his gardening gloves, inspected his flower beds with great suspicion and occasionally deposited unfortunate gifts beside his boots. It had also developed the habit of sitting upon his lap whenever he attempted to read, an act of presumption that Anomander tolerated with remarkable grace. He suspected it knew exactly who he was. He suspected it did not care. On quiet evenings, when the light turned gold across the garden and the shadows stretched long beneath the apple trees, Anomander would sit with a cup of tea, the black cat curled beside him, and listen to the wind move through the leaves. Dragnipur was gone. The burdens of centuries had, at last, been laid aside. The world continued its endless business without requiring his intervention. And for the first time in an age beyond counting, he was not waiting for the next catastrophe. He was simply watching the roses bloom.There were still shadows in his eyes, and there always would be. Some wounds were too old to heal, some memories too precious to surrender. But he had discovered that peace did not require the absence of sorrow. Sometimes it was simply the decision to plant something beautiful despite it. The cat stirred, stretched one paw against his leg and settled again. Anomander glanced down. "An uninvited guest," he murmured. The cat purred. For a moment, the ancient Lord of Moon's Spawn looked almost amused. "Very well. You may stay." And so the Son of Darkness, who had once carried the fate of worlds, spent the remainder of his days cultivating roses, arguing with fruit trees and sharing his solitude with a creature that answered to no one. It was not the ending anyone would have written for him. But then, Anomander Rake had never been particularly fond of doing what was expected. And the cat, naturally, had no intention of leaving.For once, there was no kingdom to save, no sword to raise and no fate to fulfil. Only a garden, a quiet evening, and the small, extraordinary luxury of being left in peace.
Custom Overlay, Background, Profile and Story by Hellian

Pet Treasure

Pet Friends