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Sarakon vs Wolf
02.13.04, 06:38:06
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Post #1 (permalink) |
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“Kill them! LET NO MAN ESCAPE ALIVE!”
Wolf’s eyes were placid to an extreme; he wouldn’t let his emotions get in the way this time around.
(Oh here comes the king of Edar, all high and mighty)
No, that wasn’t what he felt at all. He was avenging his comrades.
He had surprised the damn Silophile kingdom by charging, full might, directly at the capital of Silophile, for everybody knew the fastest way to get anywhere in the world was by going in a straight line.
And now they would compensate. Pay for the deaths they had brought down on his men.
(Your men, Edgar? That’s all they are, if they weren’t yours, you wouldn’t care.)
He knew it to be true as he watched his knights unsheathe their swords, bring their blades down on their enemies, and then replace them within their scabbards; all in a union which made them seem like machines.
(“LET NO MAN ESCAPE ALIVE”)
With little grace, Edgar charged alone straight for the gates of the Silophile palace. He would take the king, oh yes he would. Down with the doors, and charge with the shoulders.
The wooden doors to the Silophile King’s last front broke down under the might of Wolf’s shoulders, and the two guards that had been standing behind it were brought flying backwards under the sheer force delivered by the charge.
(End their life Edgar. You know you want to. Remember…)
(“LET NO MAN ESCAPE ALIVE”)
Without thinking a single other thought, Wolf sent his blade soaring through the air, in one foul swoop, sending its tip right through the throats of the two unconscious soldiers that lied against the cement wall.
And into the sheath the blade went again.
The blood escaped the newly created small slits within the necks.
Blood trickled.
For a moment, Edgar swore he saw one of the fallen men open his eye, and let out a tear. But in a blink, the man’s eye was closed once more, and no trace of saline fluid remained on his face.
Was this even morally just? So they had killed a hundred of his men, so what? Wolf had wanted to conquer their country. They were just protecting themselves. Wolf would have done the same.
(Remember the guns? )
Damn, he did remember the guns. He remembered the rain of bullets; he remembered creating the magical field to protect his comrades as they marched to the capital. He had felt an echo of the pain that they created, as each one pelted off the magical barrier. It had felt terrible just as a repercussion, how did it feel to take one in the chest? How did it feel to take a dozen?
Wolf let out a growl, inhuman in nature, and brought his hands down on each of the dead man’s skulls, raising them into the air with a single hand to a man. With unrivalled gusto, he threw their limp bodies out of the palace door, letting them land in a satisfying thump motion on the ground. All heads, both Edarian and Silophalian turned.
First their eyes turned towards the corpses, then towards the man who stood emitting charisma and fear.
“Give up now, enemies of my reign! Put down your blades, and I promise I will not let my men lay a single hand on you! ”
A strange silence.
His enemies didn’t know whether to obey or not. If this was some deadly trick, or it was pure honesty, they didn’t know.
“You said to kill them all!”
A voice rung out from one of his soldiers. It was a knight in fact.
Wolf knew the face of this man. He knew the faces of all the knights, and the names attached to them.
“I did indeed, and I know you seek vengeance, but we must avoid more needless bloodshed. Heed your king, and do not harm them. ”
Warm malice boiled.
And the young knight bowed his head, and paid respects. All knights loved Wolf; they knew him to be a powerful warrior with a mind as sharp as the blade he held.
And his enemies now understood.
Their weapons dropped onto the ground, the metal clinging to the ground as they let their swords drop, the small firearms which seemed to belong to every unit in the Silophile Corp.
And a change of emotion passed over Wolf’s face.
“KILL THEM ALL! NOW! ”
The mood had just swung. Sweat broke from the faces of the men of Silophile, and doubt over the faces of the army of Edar.
Wolf needed the blood. He needed it to flow free…
(Like a river…)
Yes, like a river…
“KILL THEM NOW! BEFORE THEY RE-ARM! AVENGE YOUR FRIENDS! ”
And now everybody was fearful, Edgar could smell it.
But his army obeyed, regardless of this order seeming so wrong.
Cries of men dying helplessly filled the capital, and Wolf felt as if he was consuming the pain for the better of himself.
(You should feel good. Your men were helpless against those damn guns weren’t they? This is just evening the score… But don’t forget their bastard leader)
How could he?
Wolf laughed as he slowly turned around and headed back into the palace.
He laughed as he passed through the seemingly endless corridors.
He laughed as he passed through the hall of mirrors.
He laughed as he swung the doors open towards the throne room.
He…
Gun shot…
Wolf clutched at his throat; he felt the hole underneath his fingertips. The saccharine liquid was soiling his hands. He caught a glimpse of his enemy, the person who held the same position as him. Edgar couldn’t help but feel angry.
He had survived battle after battle, smashed with hammers, stabbed with swords, and he was to end like this? At the hands of a frail old man, whose hair was whitened by age? The irony.
Then it all went blank.
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Images of Laura smiling at him.
Images of her playing the violin.
Images of her with her arms around him, her hazel hair running over her shoulders, like waves over a beach.
_____________________________
Slowly his body began waking.
His nose started up, and inhaled a smell as foul as spilled urine not cleaned for millennia.
His ears started up, and the sounds of wails as horrid as those he had made when he had seen Laura’s bloodied body, and lifeless eyes.
(Those open blue eyes)
His tongue started working, and he licked the area around his lips, which were cracked and dry.
And his eyes opened up, leaving him looking at a ceiling that was a tint of peach.
His neck was stiff; he couldn’t move his head to look around.
All he could see was peach.
(“Do you like peaches, Edgar?”)
“I’ve never tried them…” The words were mouthed.
Laura, she had loved peaches. She had gasped when she had found out Edgar had never even tried them.
(So common of her, always wanting everybody to love life and every aspect of it. )
He felt life returning to his fingers, and as he flexed them, they cracked.
Slowly life returned to his body, giving him a feeling of elated joy.
Then a memory hit him hard on, sending his upright neck back down, hitting his head hard against the floor.
He had been killed.
Where was here then?
Hadn’t the priest said Hell was ghastly? Edgar had always prepared himself for it, since he had figured that’s where he would be going.
But where was this? Not Heaven, that was for sure.
Slowly, he collected himself, and commanded himself to stand upright.
The room was square shaped, all sides exactly equal. A door was placed upon each wall, all undoubtedly leading to different places.
(Where do you think you’re going? )
“I DON’T KNOW! ”
Echoes.
He couldn’t loose his cool now. With the strength of mind he had needed as a king, he led himself without doubt towards the door that was coloured an azure blue. His armoured hand clasped around the handle, and the door opened up.
An entity awaited him, not of physical form, but of a smoky quality. It hovered at least two feet above the ground, and would have been invisible to the naked eye had the walls of this room been white. But they weren’t, they were black.
“Edgar Crowe, welcome.”
The voice had come from the being, surely. But how?
“You have questions… Stupid questions… We will leave them be… You have an important matter to deal with… Your death was… Lets say… Not meant to be…”
(Not meant to be? )
“We… Can’t figure out exactly why this is… And we can’t re-insert you into your world again… But you are not dead… Understand… You died, yes… your physical carcass is right on the field where it was brought down, but you seem to possess such a strong will, for you haven’t broken down like I have, like all of us have. You maintain your outline, something very rare indeed.”
What was the point? He was dead to Edar, dead to his home…
“We would like to take advantage of this, indeed we would.”
Edgar couldn’t take it any longer…
“ADVANTAGE?! YOU WANT TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF A MAN WHO HAS JUST DIED AND UNDERSTANDS NOTHING?! ” The words uttered were raspy, croaky.
“You have no choice… And it seems we will have to teach you a lesson. I, more precisely we, will see you later…”
Edgar was about to unsheathe his blade when suddenly the room whirled around his being, as if he was the centre of the universe. He didn’t change for the world, it changed for him.
(Hasn’t it always? )
But this was quite literal. Slowly, Wolf saw that piece by piece, like the puzzles Laura had so enjoyed, the world was morphing into something quite real. Fragments of colours bonded together, to form a chilling dark scene.
The sky overhead was a mix of purple and black, and the clouds overcast the sun, if such a star existed here. And Wolf realized, as he examined the crafted stones that drove themselves out of the ground, grassless as it was, were in fact tombstones.
(Graveyard…)
His hands firmed themselves around the hilt of his blade. His neck hair was standing on end, for there was something not so right about this scene, it was surreal.
(Maraz Di Silo… Believe In Your Sword… Come What May)
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Yes, I go all over the place Simon xD |
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