Zereldo
AQW Class Designer
|
The Discussion thread is here http://forums2.battleon.com/f/tm.asp?m=21307658&mpage=1&key=�
The Day the Mirror Broke
The mirror realm has always been a place that has appeared both familiar and foreign. It resembles our Lore so much, yet has its own inherit differences that differentiate it, and define it as its own world. The way in which a place, object or person is mirrored follows no set pattern. For some, such as Cysero, their inverted self has a personality switch, being serious rather than mad. For others such as Warlic, their role changes from that of a mage, to a scientist. Others have their allegiances switched, Alteon becoming evil, and Gravelyn becoming good. In order to travel to the mirror realm, one would swap places with their mirror self, and thus be unable to encounter their mirror self.
Artix the paladin, is not only on the side of evil in the mirror realm, but is also an undead. There was one day where the fabrics of the two Lores were connected by an intermediate realm. This realm acted as a bridge between the two Lores, allowing both selves to encounter each other for the first time. On this day Artix was heading towards Doomwood in the hope of encountering undead when he stumbled across a portal, the gateway to the intermediate realm. He felt strongly drawn to the portal, as he sensed a strong presence of undead inside.
Upon entering, he saw an unshaped wasteland. There was no life to be seen, no form of its own, just a seemingly endless expanse of nothing. As Artix walked around he saw the remains of the dead, and the undead, which had battled in this realm before. Artix bowed his head, in a moment of silence to show respect to both the dead who had fallen in battle, and the undead whose rest had been disturbed, only to be forced into battle.
He looked up, and then to both sides, trying to determine from which direction the undead presence was emanating from. To his delight, the presence suddenly grew stronger. The fun was about to start; his target was coming towards him quickly. Artix drew his axe, the Blinding Light of Destiny, which sparkled from all the spirit orbs surrounding it. His hair swayed slightly in the wind and he slowly started to smile. His eyes were fixated, facing forwards, as the undead presence grew. Whatever this thing was, he knew it was among the strongest undead he had even encountered.
Suddenly there it was, or more aptly, there HE was! Artix stood face to face with the undead equivalent of himself. He had heard that such a being existed, but never expected to encounter it. Undead Artix stood still in his black steel armor. He wielded a doom axe, the Shadow Reaper of Doom, which constantly released bolts of doom through the air around them. Undead Artix looked at his challenger. His red glowing eyes seemed to assault Artix. His undead self seemed to have no heart, and to have no warmth within being as cold and his shadow black armor.
Undead Artix raised his hand, and as he did the dead around them rose once more. Artix was surrounded, but not outmatched. He ran into battle and struck with the Blinding Light of Destiny as if it were as light as a sword. His speed was so great that no undead managed to even attempt a strike against him. The odd bead of sweat rolled down Artix’s face as he looked up from his last strike. Undead Artix had not moved, his rigid and forceful form dominated the foreground. In a moment a blast of darkness flew towards Artix as if from nowhere. He rolled out of the way as quickly as the blast had been fired, suffering no harm.
Artix was soon on his feet again and charging towards his mirror self. He gave a mighty swing of his axe… only to find that the shadow reaper of doom had blocked his strike. They stood locked in combat, magic was temporarily discarded as they put their strength to the test. Another aspect of Artix that was mirrored was his size. Artix was a little bit shorter than most men, and it had been said many times that he was shorter than people expected. This was mirrored in a strange way, as Undead Artix was a lot taller than most people expected. Although the battle of strength was in Undead Artix’s favour, the real Artix had determination to aid him.
Metal ground against metal, and destiny fought doom as the undead fought the living. As Artix appeared to be overpowering his opponent he found himself flung backwards through the air. Undead Artix was now cloaked in an aura of shadow. Artix countered this in the only way he knew how, by summoning a dragon lance. The glow of this undead slaying weapon of light was enough to strike fear into the hearts of necromancers, but had no effect on Undead Artix. The lance was thrown with strength and precision and struck its target straight through the chest.
Undead Artix stood, a gaping hole though the back steel revealed undead ribs. The being did not stagger; it was as if the assault had not affected him. Artix sensed a slight weakening of the undead presence, and realized there was only one was to end this battle. He charged confidently, valiantly and elegantly at undead Artix and leaped into the air. With one swift strike of the Blinding Light of Destiny he beheaded his undead self. The black steel helmet fell to the ground; the undead presence was no longer to be felt.
Artix returned to Battleon triumphant. He had just beaten his undead self and was now reassured that he could control the powers of darkness that were within him. If he could beat the darkness in battle, then surely he could hold it at bay within himself.
< Message edited by Zereldo -- 6/5/2013 8:11:01 >
|
Printable Version
Icon Legend
New Messages
No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages
Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages
Locked w/o New Messages
Post New Thread
