The Last Servant

[ski_king3 0]

The five men waited in the field just beyond the holy shrine. It was here that they would make the final stand against their adversary; win or lose, they'd face the fallen in the shadow of their god's pillars. The pious figures drew together in a last prayer, requesting some final miracle of strength to give the haggard men a chance. When their god did not answer them, they uttered no desperate pleas, nor did they take flight. With subdued zeal, they bent their heads and blessed one another, for they could feel him coming.

 

First it was but a subtle buzz, the static in the air loosing quiet cracks and breaks. The men knew this was their warning. None had to raise their gaze and look to the temple, for each knew light was beginning to well there. The air grew heavier, the cracks and sparks more frequent, the haze of energy weighing down on the determined five. He'd grown stronger since their last encounter, that much was apparent. Yet so had they.

 

By the sound of it, you'd think lightning had struck, yet the blue glow of his arrival was unmistakable. The strength the fallen carried with him was something of awe, blanketing them in energy where there had been but a veil.

 

 

The man lumbered out, glowing sword in hand, shield already raised, though he was not wrong to do so. Each of the five had done the same before the fallen had arrived. It was odd, his garb mirrored theirs but in shadow, his shield was marred cracks, his sword eternally illuminated in stark contradiction to his dark figure. As this strange perversion slowly closed the distance between the line of five, his effect only expanded. In his presence, it was as if colors struggled to stay within the outlines of their forms, and small pebbles and bits of dust rose, suspended in his energy. Only when he stopped across from the five were any words spoken.

 

"It's not too late to return to him." The fallen spoke, his tone stoic and unchanging, as if delivering an ultimatum.

 

Their leader merely shook his head, unrelenting to the dark one. "We have made our choice. Have you made yours?"

 

"I made it years ago, when I took my oaths." He let the words hang their, his gaze slowly drifting downward, eventually releasing a quiet sigh, that of a defeated man. "Or have you forgotten?"

 

"I remember everything. We all do." The man insisted, only his fatigue subduing his fury to sound like mere irritation. "But there is another way."

 

"You see that he's chosen me, not you, yes? So how do you continue to serve?"

 

"We remain steadfast in our oaths, even if he breaks them. We were meant to serve, not control."

 

"So this is how it will end?" He asks, almost in disbelief. "You've accepted your fates?"

 

"We have." That was all he replied.

 

"Then I suppose it's time. I'm sorry, brother."

 

There were no more words between them, but each lowered their heads for one final prayer. Yet of the six, only the fallen's was answered. And with that, they charged, the fallen apostle against the last five of his order. And soon, they would be dead too, and his service would begin anew.

 

 

[[Got bored and wrote a thing. Hopefully you enjoy.]]

[OzYmandi 647]

Ness wonders why but then he goes on his way to chop a heretic's head off.

[ski_king3 0]

This isn't an RP thread, it's the creative writing section :P this has nothing to do with lotc

[Paleo 298]

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.