Heartdragon
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Rage of the Forsaken
Drakath, King Slugwrath's only son, the coward, the idiot, the weakling, the fool, the princeling, the worm, was a man who never gave up, trying to accomplish his dream, despite everything that he had to do. . . And how people would look at him afterwards.
As the tyrant ruler of Swordhaven, Slugwrath was hated by his own people, who were willing to overthrow him as soon as they had a single chance to do so. They had suffered from their evil king's pride and greed, he who never cared at all for his people, and therefore, they had to loathe his heir as well--Drakath, a little spoiled brat with nothing more special than being a prince favored by his father. The queen had always told her son that he would become the next king when the right time came. And little Drakath dreamt about that day, a day that would never come.
From one of the highest balconies in the castle, mother and son used to watch the landscape, a perfect vision of the city’s downtown, the forest, and the hills at the south. “All of this will be yours one day, my son,” the queen said more than once. That was the most beautiful vision, especially when they could observe the dawn, as the sea at the East became orange. But he would not be able to ever see that landscape again.
Sir Alteon, the most righteous knight in the kingdom, saw a chance to face Slugwrath. The king had to respond for his actions; the situation could not continue as the denizens were suffering, silently screaming for help. So, now, they were both leaders of opposite factions at war. It was the people against the king. They wanted freedom so they could lead a new life, he wanted to rule as it had been for too many years.
A war began between knights and lords, between families and friends, depending on their loyalty. There were those who were loyal to Slugwrath only because they were favored by his government, since they had good economical positions. They didn’t know what was living in poverty like the rest of the denizens, who were a majority. The complicated situation spawned for years, until that fateful event.
Ever since the war had begun, the royal family had an impending preoccupation; what if they were beheaded as the violent, fiery revolution sought out for the king's demise? That surely included the whole family. “That little princeling has the right to the throne, so it probably would be better if we kill him off now. We won't have trouble later,” was what the most fiery knights and denizens said.
Not that Alteon wanted it. Even though Slugwrath had been a tyrant, his son was not. Nevertheless, what could he do? Most of the people wanted revenge on the former king but, as he had died in the war, his son was alive and he could be punished as replacement for his father. . . He actually knew that he wouldn't be able to stop the family's assassination, especially after the son fled and the queen was killed. But he had no time to think about them but about the nation's well-being. Though he never intended to become the King of Swordhaven when he created the opposition, the people elected him, totally sure that he would be the best since ages.
Did he deserve to be deprived from the right to be a king? Drakath began to think shortly after that. No, certainly not, he thought, how could that be? He was born as the prince and lived as one until that Alteon took everything from him; his throne, his family, his pride. Now, he had to live as mere bandit, stealing to be able to eat what he could, running away from the people who wanted him dead as they still remembered his father, believing that he needed power to reclaim what it was his by birth right. . . Wait! That was exactly what he needed. Power. But he could only attain enough of it to be the leader of the Darkwolf Bandits and nothing else. What could he do? Faithfully wait for an opportunity. As time passed his own despair for being powerless and the disappointment after growing tired of waiting for the right chance began to develop into anger, egoism, lust for power. Many years of looking up to his father began to show on the surface. . .
Then, he appeared, offering him a simple work—retrieve two boxes, a black one and white one. Something related to dragons. He did not care too much about the offering. . . until he mentioned a word: Power. Drakath could not believe it; would he be able to take back all he had lost? Yes, finally! He accepted, without thinking in consequences. If he was granted with the power of that strange talking blade, he could claim what they took from him! Drakath knew right away that he had a monstrous power; so much that it could be shared.
Sure, the mighty Sepulchure had plans for him, and Drakath would try to accomplish anything if it was for his own goal. So he found the two boxes, but that meddling Hero had to appear and take the Black Dragon Box from him. That was the first failure, but not the last. Soon he realized that neither his new master nor his plans were something he expected. Now, he was constantly scared, waiting for punishment at any time if his master desired it, and had to do anything if he was ordered to, even if it required doing evil things he never could have imagined before being exiled.
The only “good” thing in that dark, impenetrable fortress where he now had to spend most of his time, ready to follow orders just like an obedient dog, was Fluffy. Since his master was too busy with other affairs, he had to take care of Fluffy most of the time. Even though it was a little Dracolich, the only one who would care about him would be the little dragon, as if it still had a heart between those bones.
Then, again, Sepulchure wanted to create a world of darkness and for that, he needed to find the Orbs. Not that it was easy but he was arrogant enough to state, that even if the Hero took all of them for himself and protect them, they would become his. Then, creating the Ultimate Orb would be just a matter of time. Endless wars would be necessary recourses to win the battle between evil and good, between the Shadowscythe and Falconreach, but every time he was involved, Drakath thought why did they need wars?
He remembered what happened years ago in Swordhaven, but as Sepulchure wished to see the Hero's town burned to the ground if possible, he got used to it. After all, why care about anyone when no one cared about him at all? Besides, the Hero was the exact and most impostant reason why he was punished by Sepulchure. The Hero had to pay for his humiliation and pain.
As time passed, Drakath realized there would be no power for him. Nothing at all. Sepulchure would not easily give something like that to a weakling like him, he was completely aware of it. So now, he wanted an opportunity, but his master never lowered his guard. So he would wait a little longer. After all, years he had been waiting for an opportunity to be a king again; how could some weeks or months affect him?
. . .It was going to be full moon and Sepulchure was ready to gather all the Orbs, after taking them from the careless Hero. It had been too easy, Drakath thought, but it could be his only possibility to attain power and show everyone who he was. He was not going to let Sepulchure have all the power. A little voice from his inside told him that the right time was soon. He smiled to himself, behind Sepulchure’s back, as the light sought by the heroes died. . .
As the Hero entered the highest room of The Tower, Drakath placed himself behind Sepulchure’s back, getting a good view of everyone in there; the hero, the spies, the blade left alone at a side, Sepulchure. . . the orbs. They rose in the air, as night fell and covered the lands in darkness, and combined into a single one. . . The energy it gave off was flowing through all the room, and everyone in there could feel it. The Hero just watched, powerless, as Sepulchure was going to grab the Ultimate Orb. . .
Now! He thought, grabbing the Necrotic Blade of Doom, the one promised to him but never given, and swiftly pierced through Sepulchure’s crimson armor and body easily as paper. He did it! Drakath had done something he had never imagined: Hurt Sepulchure, the invincible DoomKnight.
“I will not be denied my kingdom again.”
As Sepulchure was unable to move freely and the Hero did nothing as confused as he was, he took the Orb for himself. As he absorbed the energy, the power was running through his veins, flowing through his body. He felt the infinite and pure darkness. . . Yes, power at least. It was magnificent. Now, the entire world could be his; they had denied his kingdom, now everyone would pay the price: He would become the ruler of the world. He would not be denied once again nor his pride would be taken away.
But then again, Sepulchure said, “Your living body cannot handle the power! I will watch you burn and then spit on your ashes!”
That was true; he wouldn’t able to bear with it. Hah. He knew what to do next. He called Fluffy.
“No!” Both the Hero and Sepulchure thought.
As the Dracolich rushed through the dark sky, the Hero tried to approach Drakath and take the Ultimate Orb. No! Nothing else was going to take something from him. He blocked his path with the sheer power of the orb, and Fluffy came.
It probably was the bond they formed when alone in the fortress’ deepest dungeons what made Fluffy go to him. Sepulchure never cared too much about raising his dragon properly and he only controlled Fluffy through the Dragon Amulet, but he had not been interested in forming a real bond with his dragon. Besides, Drakath was the one who retrieved the box back then; it was more like it was his own dragon.
. . .And they became one.
That was the power of darkness. He did not exactly imagine that he would able to become a dragon, having a full control of the body. Probably, Fluffy was willing to let him take over. Drakath did not know himself. Nor he knew how to properly use all that raw power. Over time, he knew he would get used to it. As he tried to figure it out, he battled Sepulchure and the Hero as they fought each other as well. But suddenly, they realized that Drakath was too powerful, as the violet darkness dragon stood his ground on the remains of the tower.
And they teamed up against their will. The Hero who he hated after being defeated in battle was the one who took his pride and shattered it, after the failures, and Sepulchure, the cold master who punished him and made him an useless dog that only followed orders and was punished every time he failed. Now, they were ones who, while helping each other, pierced right through his heart with the promised blade.
He couldn’t see any longer, as he felt as his life was escaping through his last breaths. Drakath could only think that he could not attain his ultimate goal: Claim what it was his by right. His death was inevitable. . . Drakath dreamed for a second about a future where no one could take what it belonged to him; however, the unlikely duo took once again something from him. They took his life.
. . .And the red darkness dragon rose above the black skies. Now, the stranger had taken over his lying dead body.
However, he saw it. A purple eye. It was chaos.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
< Message edited by Heartdragon -- 1/6/2012 7:05:39 >
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