|
|
The pub, any other realm and it would have been filled with nothing but unfriendly faces and the bitter scent of piss and vomit along with the intoxicating aroma of alcohol and choking smoke. But it was to be expected that the heaven realm would have got something wrong.
A bright interior full of happy people drinking responsibly, the drinkers of this realm had obviously lost their way, but they were nice enough people really. When they weren’t trying to kill you for being a damned soul anyway.
It was his dull white eyes that gave him away, the majority of the people cowered away from him as he had wandered through this land, they scowled at him from a distance but at the same time seemed strangely intrigued by the alien in their midst and visibly relieved to see no sign of Heretic.
Finally he had been confronted, a council of angels and archangels convened around him. They too were visibly relieved to see no sign of Heretic, and when Sarakon assured them he was not there on a mission of conquest they dispersed and left him to his business. Perhaps they believed him; perhaps they were reluctant to face the King of Tarronia in battle. From the fear in their eyes it was obvious they’d been told something of his power.
But their fear wasn’t warranted just yet, Sarakon spoke a half truth, he wasn’t here to conquer the realm. That would just be poor strategy on Sarakon’s part and would simply result in his own death and possibly an eternity of torment in the hell realm. But that didn’t stop him observing the number of souls present here, scrutinising their defences and making plans for when the time did come.
But those little acts of espionage weren’t Sarakon’s main reasons for coming to the land he despised. He had heard whispers of a man with a story much like his own, a man with an ever growing empire, information filtered throughout the realms of a surge of power in a Kingdom named Edar.
These rumours had caught Sarakon’s interest; such a man could make for a strong ally, or a powerful enemy. But to find one man in a sea of souls would be an impossible task, Sarakon needed information and the people of “heaven” were known to be full of it, and much more likely to divulge it freely without trying to tear your face off first.
So there he sat, sipping at his pint with a sly smile upon his face. A few pieces of gold was all it had taken to get the divine barkeep to open his mouth, for all their arrogance and so called righteousness, the beings of heaven seemed no different to the beings of hell. Although in hell they were honest about their nature.
The empty glass was set down upon the bar gently, and Sarakon’s form returned to its true ethereal nature and vanished from heaven, diving into the depths of the Spectral nexus. The barman blinked twice, wondering where the damned Knight had gone.
Sarakon’s soul gracefully tore through the sea of souls, with details of Edgar Crowe’s history set in his mind, and he focussed on searching out this enigmatic warrior’s soul. At the speed of thought the incandescent Dark Knight travelled through the plane of the living realm, pausing now and then to feel into the souls of the planets, until finally he found one that leapt out at him.
A world not too dissimilar to Tarronia, this planet’s people had seen much war lately, Kingdom’s rose and fell and at the heart of it all was a growing power, the Kingdom of Edar. Could it be the new Tarronia?
His astral form descended, in the midst of a marching army of living souls the sought to converge upon a city up ahead and at the forefront of the masses was the King of Edar himself, Edgar Crowe.
He was leading his troops into battle, swiftly they marched straight into the capital of an opposing Kingdom, but they weren’t taking this assault lightly. Bullets rained down on them, but the men did not fall, they marched onwards. Sarakon ****ed his head and eyed Edgar Crowe with curiosity and then he felt the shield of energy that he had enveloped his men in and his curiosity led to questions. Would this Edgar Crowe be dangerous? Would his Empire really lead him into conflict with Sarakon? But the one that made Sarakon wonder the most was would he make a good ally? Would he fight alongside Sarakon in rebuilding the Tarronian Empire?
He had heard much of Edgar’s history, the man had been loyal until crossed, much as Sarakon had been loyal until his eyes had been opened, perhaps he would prove useful. But friend or foe, it would be best to deal with him now, if even the heavens were speaking of him then surely the fates had something big destined for him.
I can’t have anyone rising to overthrow me and ruin my perfect Empire, not again…
His astral form stayed with Edgar, moving effortlessly in time with his movements even as he charged ahead of his army and burst into palace ahead, as he slaughtered those within and gave the order to his men to slay the defenceless army of the Kingdom.
His behaviour filled Sarakon with disgust, war would never be a happy and delightful thing but there were lines that you just did not cross and Edgar had gone well beyond the line. Sarakon could see why he would do it, revenge was always satisfying, but it wasn’t always right. This slaughter was wrong, but it was also stupid, why take a kingdom and not take its forces too? Best to leave the men alive and allow them to serve you, than to simply slay them all like a coward.
But still, disturbing as his behaviour may be, he would still make for a good ally, better that than a ruthless enemy.
He continued to follow Edgar through the palace, through a hall of mirrors and into the throne room, and then he watched in surprise as Edgar was shot in the throat and fell to the ground dead.
He was surprised, not because the man had been shot by the frail King, but because he’d been foolish enough to walk carelessly into the throne room without expecting any kind of resistance, even though he’d just marched miles here under heavy gunfire.
idiot
But of course, Sarakon more than anyone knew this wasn’t the end and he continued to feel for Edgar’s soul becoming rather confused when it didn’t pass through the Nexus to heaven or hell as it should, but instead it drifted to some other place out in the nether of the realms.
It was unusual but not unheard of for souls to be drawn away from the usual path after death, but it was very rare for them to do of it of their own free will and Sarakon suspected this case was no different. For whatever reason some higher power was toying with the soul of Edgar Crowe, and it sickened Sarakon to the core.
Damn those bastards and their games
He resolved to continue tracking Edgar Crowe’s soul, to cross through the Nexus once more and go to this other, unnatural place where he now resided. And once again his physical form collapsed into an ethereal existence and he drifted through the sea of souls and when he found himself upon Edgar Crowe’s soul once more, with a mere thought and a burst of energy.
A world of infinite points of light, a sea of souls gave way to a dark wasteland and even the Dark Knight himself felt a chill run down his spine as he appeared in the middle of a desolate graveyard.
The leathers that hung about his form flapped around his back and at his side in the wind, dust blew across the dirt floor and over his boots.
All was quiet, all was still.
Sarakon and Edgar Crowe stood only a few feet apart and the Dark Knight remained silent for what seemed like quite a time, only eyeing Edgar with his dull white eyes, staring into his face. But he could see nothing in the man, not yet.
“Edgar Crowe?”
He asked nonchalantly, he didn’t know why he asked, he already knew the answer, but this confrontation had to begin somehow.
[OOC – Great, a ****ing wasteland setting, going to have to make this more interesting with some manipulation of ****, anyways, sorry about sthis ****e post and the amount of time it took to do it xD] |
______________________________________
Bastard
Last edited by Lennon Legend : 02.21.04 at 08:22:13.
|