Silver500
Member
|
Its just a story that has been kicking around my head for a while now and I finally wrote itt eheh. Its not the best but I am pretty happy with how it turned out, it is a theoretical future for the hero, who turns to dark powersto try and bring someone back from the dead, only to descend into the darkest of dark powers only to realise too late that he has become entrapped in the very same darkness that had corrupted hiss greatest foe Sepulcher. Thus those who he had helped in his lifetime searchedforaway to stophim,but no one could truly saly him, but after a great battle Warlicmanaged to instead seal him away within a ruin, and there he was left, nothing more than a distant and sad memory for those who knew his fate.
And then, well this happens...
The discussion thread is here http://forums2.battleon.com/f/tm.asp?m=19955880&mpage=1&key=�
-------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness, ruin and sadness, the way it began, the very same way it always had. The decadent sepulchre had been left untouched for an age; nothing darkened its doorstep, nor was it protected. It just… existed, outside of the madness of war and the joy of peace, both serene and foreboding as it stood forgotten by many, but darkened the minds of many. The enforced peace and the oppressive silence would soon be disturbed…
The entrance to the tomb jutted out of the ground, there was nothing grand about it, being nothing more than a simple stone structure that stood in a forest clearing. Time had not been kind to it however as the stone was riddled with cracks that had become filled with plant life, vines had grown over the entrance, almost as if nature itself was trying to stop anyone from trespassing upon the darkness within.
A lone figure approached, his features hidden beneath shroud of dark purple cloth, his purpose was not known, but the tomb was more than obviously what he was seeking as without a moment’s hesitation he approached the entrance. He paused before the vines, taking a moment to put down his supplies and allow his hood to fall back from his head.
The man beneath the cloak was a man of battle, as one could tell from the several marks upon his leather armour that was dyed a light green. His hair was as black as crow’s feathers and he wore a metal headband that stopped it from obscuring his vision while at the same time functioning as additional armour. He was on edge, a feeling of unease settling deep in the pit of his stomach.
He hacked through the vines with his sword quickly, forcing himself to ignore his feeling of unease and walked into the darkness of the tomb, quickly lighting a torch as he began to descend the stone steps into the abyss of blackness that lay ahead. As he walked he soon began to notice there was a lack of… anything. There were not even insects that called this place home, there was no scent upon the still air and the stairway seemed to descend for an eternity, all that could be heard was the man’s footsteps, and the crackling of his torches flame.
Eventually however he reached the bottom of the stairs, this led into a short corridor that was littered with large rusted metal shards and several scattered bones. The man continued to walk down the corridor, at the other end lay the twisted remains of what used to be a thick metal gate and more bones with several pieces of armour that lay scattered around, some even embedded in the stone walls near the gate.
The man’s heart skipped a beat as his mind raced to try and comprehend the sheer power necessary to do this to another person. He tried to calm himself and forced the images that came to mind out of his head as he carefully slipped through the gate.
Once he entered the room his torch died almost instantly, before he had a chance to relight it several more wall mounted torches lit up, illuminating what he now saw nothing more than an ancient meeting place for lords and such. But his heart skipped a beat as he examined the devastation around him.
There were several large cracks in the walls where he could see scraps of metal and bone where still resting within, the floor was also littered with metal and bone shards, a few stone pillars lay shattered within the room as well. In the centre of the room lay a stone table and several stone chairs, or more the remains of a stone table and stone chairs.
Half of the table lay upon the ground in the centre of the room, the other half was embedded in the ceiling, several of the chairs had been broken too, but this came as less of a shock than the table. Then he saw what he had come here for, at the end of the table, well where the end should be, was a taller stone chair, normally reserved for the lord with the greatest power.
Within the chair sat a man, he was unmoving, his armour was worn a layer of dust had settled onto it, several cobwebs hung loosely from it, but even in this state the armour of an arch-doomknight still remained imposing as ever, the dark energies it exuded permeated the air with a miasma of death that had killed off any insects or unfortunate animals that had happened to get the foolish notion to come down here.
He approached the chair slowly, walking past several skeletons, he tried to pay them no mind, but he couldn’t help looking at them once or twice. There where warriors from many lands that lay there, from the Pactagonal knights of Oaklore, to the paladins of Doomwood, and even necromancers from the university. They had all been arranged in peaceful poses. Similar to that given to a body in a coffin, with the arms crossed over their chest.
Trying to swallow his fear as he found his voice the man spoke. “A-Are you alive, Hero?”
To this the man got a dry laugh, it sounded… tired. “Hero… No one has said that for a fair while… Or anything for that matter… Have I been forgotten… No… They just don’t want to remember… ” The voice rambled a little.
The man relaxed a little, having half expected to be attacked the moment he spoke, but after the knight had rambled for a while he felt he needed to interrupt. “I need your help Hero.”
The knight in the chair moved slightly, it would have been barely noticeable if not for the dust that fell from him as he did so, not yet looking at the man. “I… know you.”
The man bit his lip, unsure of what he should do, the knight did indeed know him, but how he would react to his visitor’s identity may end badly. The man knew it would be unwise to lie however so simply stated. “It is Drakath…”
The knight stopped moving and look to Drakath. This caused Drakath to go very still as if a sudden movement could cause the knight to attack him. “What is it you want? It must be something of great importance for you to come to me to ask for help.”
Drakath remained still, in his mind he tried to think of it as him holding his ground, but really he was just terrified right now. “I need power…”
To this the knight looked away from him, and Drakath breathed a little easier. The knight looked at his own hands a while before answering with a quick. “No.”
This was something Drakath had anticipated however, he knew what kind of person this knight truly was and this was why he needed him. “Please you misunderstand, I don’t want your power, I need your help to master my own.”
This seemed to surprise the knight who looked at Drakath and began to stand. “This is… Unexpected… But answer me this, if you need help mastering your power couldn’t you have simply searched for a new master?”
It was now Drakath’s turn to look away. “I don’t want to be a tool for another master. I need someone who can help me master both myself and this power without seeking to rule me.” He paused and looked to the ground. “And only you can be trusted to do this, you used to be my greatest rival… Now you are the only one I can turn to.”
The knight said nothing for a few minutes. It felt like an eternity for Drakath. “And in return, what shall I gain? I do not wish for freedom from my home, and I do not wish for power, what could you offer me?”
To this Drakath grinned, he knew exactly what this knight wanted, his whole reason for becoming what he is today. “I’ll bring her back to you, with the power of chaos even the boundary of…” He was cut short however as he was lifted from the ground by his throat, the knight’s cold hand making him sweat with fear.
“DO NOT MAKE PROMISES YOU CANNOT KEEP DRAKATH!” The knight shouted as the light from the torches on the walls seemed to dim. Drakath tried to speak but he could barely breathe with the knight’s hand around his throat. The knight dropped him to the floor and turned his back to him “Do not test me… I am… Unstable.” He muttered, his voice full of both anger and… sorrow.
Drakath scrambled to his feet after getting his breath back. “Wh-What is it you want then?” He asked quickly, hoping not to anger the knight.
The knight turned and looked at Drakath once more, but Drakath felt no fear this time, just pity as he heard the knight’s request. “I just want to be with her… If I help you, you must promise me, when you are strong enough, kill me… if that day never comes, find someone who can… Please…”
This took Drakath completely off guard, the hero of Falconreach, saviour of the world, a man who had saved more people that even he as an arch-doomknight could kill. Begging for his own death. Drakath bowed his head in both pity and respect. “I shall do as you ask.”
The knight unsheathed his sword, an immense blade that was blood red in colour, shadows danced across it like fire reflected in water. “I guess we should start then…”
< Message edited by Silver500 -- 1/3/2012 11:45:12 >
|
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
