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Faerdin -> (DF) Twenty-Five Eternities (3/29/2014 20:21:52)
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Discussion Thread
Original Story
Rune Knight, He Who Stands Between
Rune Knight, Book Three
I. Twenty-Five Years
II. Why Do You Fight, Rune Knight?
III. Nightingale
IV. Twenty-Five Eternities
V. Whispers in the Night
VI. Why Do You Fight, Doom Knight?
Twenty-Five Eternities
The Doom Knight's Dirge
Every light casts a shadow.
Shadows that kneel in defeat to the dominance of Lore's light. A shadow has been cast over the shadows themselves as they lay so forlorn on the shattered shores. Beneath the ocean's cradle they whimper, finding refuge in the refuse darkness beneath the waves. The dark tyrant has been overthrown. But even a tyrant is preferable to the palpable disdain all share for the kindred shadows. How can a tyrant claim power without the will of his followers?
By will, by desperation, the tyrant succeeds. So the darkness falls again, again, again.
A tyrant wore the worn veil of his predecessor while he stood in the admonishing starlight. The moon was starkly white over the harbor of Falconreach, illuminating the docks as well as any lantern could, and yet none could see. Falconreach's regulars were all stuck in their homes. They feared that the wrath of The Rose would soon come down upon them- but not the tyrant. The tyrant may not have been entirely man.
Pitiful insects, Sepulchure sneered. It will not be long before this town is within my grasp once again. And this time, the tyrant glanced down to the blade in his hands with a derisive glare- a blade mundane as any other, once held in the hands of his dearest servant. No longer will my powers be restrained.
Thus ended the tyrant's nightly ritual. Every night since the Shattering he visited this most sacred of places- consecrated by the fallen bones that once took flight and struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. If the Doom Knight squinted, he could still see the alabaster skeleton lying beneath the water.
Yet the corpse of his dreaded memories was not the only revenant that remained on the ocean's floor. It was only when Valen turned to leave that he heard the question: "Greetings. Would you like to buy a Doom Weapon?"
A shudder crawled through his coreless form. Only one being could coax the experience of shivering flesh back to the forefront of his mind. "I can make do without one." Sepulchure returned his sight to the sea and found the Stranger like a specter over the waters- not floating, not sinking, simply standing upon nothing.
"Are you so certain? You seem to have a fascination with my apparel."
Valen's hands unwittingly clutched at the cloak around his shoulders. The Stranger chuckled. "Come now, do not be so afraid. Has it already been twenty-five years since we have had one of these little talks? We should really communicate more often."
"You are dead," Sepulchure stated flatly. "And I am free. Remember that before I remind you myself."
"Not quite as much as the common folk would like to believe. And besides," the Stranger lifted an arm and painted a picture of a small child before the Doom Knight- a girl with red hair and eyes blue as the ocean under its feet. "Even if you do not peruse my wares, I know much messier means of persuading you, do I not?"
Those scarlet eyes tore through Valen while its owners clutched the poor woman's throat, choking and sputtering beneath the clawed gauntlet. Dethrix smiled. "It is your choice, Valen. Walk away and I spare your life... Try to save the girl, and you will have much more to worry about than what happens to her."
"LYNARIA!"
Valen hefted the Necrotic Blade in his hands and swung it over his head, meeting Dethrix's sickle an instant before it connected and showering the dungeon floor with sparks from the ferocity of their blows. The claw-like fingers slipped from Lynaria's throat for an instant and let her fall to the floor as the young boy advanced, anger surging through every slash and hack until he managed to lay a heavy scratch across the Doom Lord's breastplate-
The stars throbbed red before his vision as the Stranger threw him back upon the beach, robbed of breath. Valen groped for his weapon and grasped the earth to rise back to his feet to swing at the space where the Stranger occupied in front of him-
"You will die, pitiful insect!" Dethrix howled as he hooked his opponent's sword and pried it away from his fingers. The dark-bound blade scraped across the floor while he reached out to grasp Valen's throat, pruning him of life and crushing the supple flesh that gasped and grabbed in desperate fury at the hands around his neck-
"I will crush you for daring to kill me- ME, who gave you the power in that armor!" Black tendrils tore at Sepulchure's armor, battering him down to his knees. The darkness was all encompassing, all-consuming, empowered by a force that was so beyond his own...
Yet Valen did not give.
Lynaria.
He would not give up.
The blade in Valen's arms hummed beneath the Doom Lord's spell, thrumming with dark energy that rose to a fever pitch and tore Dethrix's heart asunder- The Stranger caved as Sepulchure charged forward for a final assault, tearing the robes apart in his bladeless hands-
And all at once, it stopped. All was silent at last.
Sepulchure caved upon the sanguine shore and shuddered. The magnitude of his exertions caused him to lay for many an hour before the ocean. He listened to the night even as it gave way to day. He listened to the dark powers that cried once more to see the glory they once held. He listened to his heart.
So the darkness rises again, again, again.
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