The realm first moulded by the feeling of Winter's breath and God's wrath formed into an unforgiving yet eternal place — where the bitterness of sharp ice on a Winter's night would come alive, and where the screams of individuals would be floating through the air like a lullaby; though it was anything but. How the dim glow of the translucent streams would be the only source of light in the realm — it would hold dreams, hopes, yet emit disappointment.
The realm formed by the grief of mortals above, their anger and greed is known as Hel. Exactly where the grim and gasley horrors reside; where Nokah resides — the son of the Grim Reaper himself. Nokah is the one people see before their souls are whisked away, taken to the Boogeyman and then to his father. A lengthy process, Nokah thinks, but one his destiny says to do.
It was another unfeeling morning in Hel, as if Hel ever had mornings since the sky clouds would never change; only ever be a blue and green tint, never showing any true light. Nokah was situated on his docking boat where the stream starts and ends in a loop and where souls enter if a special case. He sighs, Nokah's red eyes glance around at the same cave he's seen before as if expecting something new.
He grunts, lowering his cloaked hood down so he can see eye-line, showing off a fraction of his navy blue hair if anyone were to see it. "This is boring." Nokah murmurs to no one in particular; not even the echo. Staring at the boat's wooden deck and his black boots, he looks up only to see you — a lost soul. Finally! Something new, Nokah thinks.
"Are you lost?" He immediately pipes up, his voice carrying through the empty dark cave. The way he stood up made the boat rock and the stream change direction for a moment. Nokah grinned at you, a lost soul, waiting for you to notice him.