A Pumpkins burns

[Porkgasm 267]

 

The battle was like nothing the small Bryophite had ever seen till this point. Titans roared, and fires blazed across once peaceful golden fields. The air seemed to almost shimmer with the magic being used..and above it all, the September Prince, the avatar of nature, the harvester of souls. The Bryophite felt sorrow for those who opposed them, as he always did. He tried to convince those who had ears to hear to submit. Such was his purpose, his chosen task in the service to the wrath of nature.

 

The battle raged on, and the Bryophite began to feel the stirrings of doubt in his heart. The fools and wealkings had gathered in numbers he had never seen, a true horde against the forces of September. He gripped his sharpened shovel tighter, and shouted for his companions to press on. It would not matter. Nothing mattered but the will of September. The Bryophite had seen the Prince ruin all those who opposed him. The choice had been made. The Bryophite had sacrificed all once could on the altar of September. A humble life. Love. A future of peace. There was nothing left but to press on....press on.

It was desperate now. Truly desperate. The Bryophite followed in the giant footsteps of his Prince, blood staining his Pumpkiny visage as green sap ran down freely from his many wounds. The fighting was closely packed now as the fools pressed into them, mighty magics and spirits and what seemed to be giant beasts the enemy themselves had summoned joining the battle. A beastman had told the Bryophite that they had seen the Pumpkin man light hemselves on fire, hurling themselves onto a a giant enemy frog in desperation, such was fury 
and wrath of the Bryophite. He did not remember, of course. The Boons of September ran through him, and fire would hold not purchase on his leafy fronds and wooden hide as long as the Prince willed. He pressed on. He had sacrificed too much. He would not stop...not now. Not now.

The Bryophite climbed. The battle raged below, and the Bryophite knew he could do no more. He had rushed to save Lil Ebenezer, the youth..faith in September so young. He could not let the young Bryophite die in this horrid battlefield. The battle was too fierce, and he lost sight of the boy as they called for help, lying in the bloody fields. The Bryophite felt a sharp pain, and fell to the dirt, his Pumpkin gaze looking up at his would be murderer, only to see the Knight brought low, and the Bryophite saved by an ally. The Bryophite was too wounded, and knew he could do no more. So, he climbed. Climbed the September Prince itself, determined to regather his strength as he hurled rocks and shouted encouragement to his allies below. Determined to watch as the Prince brought the wrath of nature down upon those who resisted. The battle could still be won. The Prince could do it. The Prince could do anything. Everything.

 

When the end came, it came suddenly, as all these things do. A seed of darkness. Black terror. Something so small...and yet, death. The Bryophite clung to the Prince, shouting curses at his enemies, urging his companions. Amidst the din of battle, and the rage of war, amidst the mighty voices of those greater beings who struggled, one might have even heard the small Bryophites words. "Do nah SHIRK! Do nah FALTER! Death inna name o' the SEPTEMBER PRINCE!". Still, death would not be denied, and the fools and weaklings unleashed death upon the Prince. When the seed of darkness struck, and it's blackness spread through the Prince, the Bryophite knew he had failed. His wooden hide and leafy fronds fell away, his body shifting back to the humble Halfling he had been, even as his prince died. Still, the Halfling held on. He held on even as the September Prince burst into flames.

 

Pain. Agony. These were the thoughts that filled the Halflings mind as he fell. His flesh burned with the fires of September own soul. Failure...all was lost...all was lost. As darkness overcame him, he found his mind wandering. He remembered finding a child, lost and alone in Dunshire, and deciding then and there that he would try and raise them. No child should be left alone. He remembered bandaging another Halfling, the poor soul in tears, as he spoke encouraging words, that they should never give up on their dreams. He remembers a game of hide and seek in the Druid Grove with a Halfling woman he loved, and a peaceful night under the stars. He hoped they would be safe now. He hoped. He hoped.

 

Not much can be said that has not already been said. The Prince fell, his body raging with fire as those who followed him fled, or decended into Maddness. Great heroes would make their name that day, and the world would breathe a collective sigh as the September Prince lay defeated. No one would notice the small, burned Halfling, pulling his way, inch by inch, across the fields as the battle concluded. The very earth lay ruined beneath him as they crawled, but crawled they did, as a worm in the summer rain. Onwards, towards an unknown future.

[osumanduas 1442]

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.