His nose hit the ground, cutting it it up as several flakes of rust fell from his crown. His servos scrambled and pulled himself up, energon leaking leaking from the tips. He heard his brother, Vam’dar calling for him. Nothing good ever came when his brother tried to make him pure again. It only brought more suffering to The Niergi’s life and more rust to his crown.
His spark pulsed as he pushed his way around the ridges of a recent battlefield. He’d gotten too close and Vam’dar had seen him and chased him down. To the mortal optic, he did not look like the god he was supposed to be. Perhaps there was the occasional one that knew who his legend, recognizing the rust crown.
It was then they usually left him behind. No one wanted The Traitor in their midst.
He took a gently step on a ridge, only for the stone to fall out from from underneath him. He tumbled down the rock face and rolled till he hit the legs of someone. Dirt and energon crisscrossed on his face. His crown was enchanted to never brake, he knew it was so because it didn’t break one of thousand times he tried to. All it did was remind him of what he had lost.
Optics flickering, he looked up and realized he rolled straight into a mortal. He squeaked and pushed himself away with fright, pulling his tattered cloak over himself a bit.