Revelations

[Zezimus 1523]

Revelations

 

 

The young Prince Yakov of House Carrion loomed above a balcony of the Imperial Palace, staring down as a large procession made its way up the staircase, onwards towards the Emperor’s throne room. The banners of his house flew high above the city walls as his father, Emperor Tuvya, stood in the middle of the crowd, a large crown nestled upon his head. Meanwhile, he looked around into the faces of his subjects, surrounded by guards standing shoulder to shoulder at his side. Above them all, the haze of the sun shone brightly across the city of Petrus, as the banners of the many houses of Oren beat about in the wind. In such days as these, under a most noble and benevolent ruler, a lasting peace was fragile, yet enduring.

 

 

As Yakov peered down from off the balcony, his eyes caught the reflection of an object being held by one of the Knights. Hidden behind his waist, he gripped hold of a sharpened razor edged dagger, appearing to be trying to shroud it from view of the Emperor and his guards. As Tuvya proceeded forward, oblivious to the danger present, Yakov saw the Knight make a sudden step out in front his path. In that moment, a sharp yell tore from within the Prince’s lungs as he leapt from off the top of the balcony, collapsing to his feet with some force upon the ground below. Sensing the danger of his intentions now known, the Knight quickly lunged forward, attempting to impale the blade into Tuvya’s chest. Before it could meet its target however, Yakov stepped forward between the assassin and his father. As he felt a sharp pain run through his body, an intense feeling of grief and agony filled his bones. Around him, the figures begun to transform to shadowed silhouettes, the very outline of the city fading through a great cloud of mist.

 

In place of the figures, Yakov found himself kneeling amidst a great battle. As he gazed into the faces of the many warriors present, he could see that they each bore the features of humans. Meanwhile the vibrant, yet dulled banners of each of the noble houses of Oren stood high in the air, though it was unclear which was fighting for who. Upon the battlements of the tower above, Yakov looked up to see a single hooded figure spying down on the battlefield below. It appeared at first glance unmoved by its surroundings, hovering a single bone like hand out in front of it. As Yakov listened intently above the sound of screams and the clashing of swords, he could faintly hear a distinct sound of chanting in the wind. Yet words of an unspoken tongue, unknown to his ears.

 

 

As the battle waged on, a sudden flash of blinding light erupted from behind the gate. Yakov raised his hands to shield his eyes, until after a few moments, he could make out what stood before him. A large portal towered into the air, its thick purple aura radiating out across the battlefield. Suddenly from within, hundreds of deformed creatures begun to seep forth, ravaging and slaughtering their way through the armies of humanity. Yakov simply kneeled low as the scourge made its way past him, seemingly unaware of his presence. What remained of the human armies quickly retreated back across the battlefield to whatever fates awaited them. As the cries rang out ever more clearly in his ears, Yakov sealed shut his eyes.

 

When he reopened them, he stood within a swamp, a thick mixture of dirt and water squelching beneath his feet. Peering around to analyse his surroundings, he saw nothing but a thick white mist blanketing his view. A hideous smell of what seemed like rotting corpses seeped through his nostrils. In that moment however, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, a single shadowed figure standing off in the distance. As Yakov squinted his eyes, it noticed him, drawing out its sword, while raising a single hand, beckoning Yakov to come forwards.

 

 

Yakov drew out his blade, cautiously making his way on as the figure imitated the same movement, taking a single step forward. They both continued until the two stood side by side. For a few moments, they simply stared towards one another, both seemingly unwilling to initiate a confrontation. A helmet covered the figure’s face, while a long cloak flowed down behind its back. Then with a sudden burst of momentum, the figure stepped forward, making a heavy swing of its blade towards Yakov. The young Prince sidestepped, raising his blade at a horizontal angle as the two swords crashed upon one another with a loud grind of steel. Yakov darted forward, returning a swing of his own, though that too was deflected. Fighting back and forth, the two appeared relatively even in all strength, skill and fortitude.

 

As the battle pressed on, it was with a sudden horizontal swing, that Yakov caught the figure off guard, slicing at its chest, to leave a heavy gash through its chainmail. Dropping its blade into the ground, the figure slumped to its knees, its head tilted down as a slow trickle of blood crept from beneath its helmet. Yakov balanced his blade upon his opponent’s shoulder as he bent down to lift the helmet from off its head. To his surprise, he saw a familiar sight staring back at him, a face bearing the very same likeness to that of his own. In that moment, a darkness enveloped the young Prince, as he found himself devoid of all sense of feeling and direction.

 

A few moments later, he found himself awake in his bed, heavy beads of sweat coating his reddened face. Had these visions truly any meaning in reality? He had no way of knowing.

[Kahzo1 218]

((damn this nice))

Edited October 10, 2014 by Raptor
Added brackets. Make an effort mate.

[Goldrim 1422]

((ecin siht nmad))

Edited October 10, 2014 by Raptor
Same as above.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.