Mercy [Narrative Post]

[Seuss 1056]

Spoiler

 

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Snow gave way as powerful legs kicked through the layered powder with a breathtaking stride. A thoroughbred designed for survival and capability in the harsh north carried her rider  deep into the unforgiving storm.

 

Trees succumbed to the overbearing weight and tilt at angles like blades of grass in the breeze.  A world frozen in time save for the flakes of white being ushered down to the ground below. The trail that marked the path from the island’s coast were quick to cover themselves up, rendering anyone unfit to become lost.

 

The snow accumulated on the black pelt situated on the Hunter’s shoulders. Those carmine eyes of the once-beast were all that reminded him what it was, rather than the snow animal it became. The section of cloak that ran down his back billowed behind him while he projected in a linear direction towards his direction.

 

His icy breath coming out in struggled huffs as he braved the island’s natural defensive nature. He spared a look to his rear, where his companion rode without worry. That aurum armor reflected what little light broke through the clouds overhead. A helm depicting a steel face carried a lack of emotion as well. It was difficult to determine if the Hunter was the only one suffering the wintery wrath.

 

“When we arrive, focus your attention on the left-most wall.”

 

“The moment they step outside, I shall rain down my wrath upon them.”

 

Their destination in question became readily present as they crested the nearest hill. Tucked within a small mountain range sat dark, tiered towers reaching for the sky overhead. Just shy of matching that height were protruding spikes of hardened ice staking out in every direction. An asymmetrical pattern scattered about the land that disrupted the falling snow from settling.

 

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The figure head of that fortress stood out more than any jagged tower or sky-tearing mountain peak. A skull one could be convinced belonged to a god. Larger than any creation to wander either side of the world, it stared out across the projection of white; it watched those that approached, and welcomed them without difference.

 

Powder traded for black stone as the hooves of his steed clomped down, echoing a rhythmic tapping as the horse came to a stop just before a ferrum gate frozen over with ice. As the Hunter turned his attention upwards, it felt as though the skull returned the gesture.

 

“Denizens.”

 

His voice, loud enough to call through the slicing wind in hopes his expedition was not a fruitless one. Silence would reign in this portion of the world if only the storm subsided.

The bastion stilled; along its grooves and balconies gathered a murder of crows whose squawks heralded a voice.

 

“Speak.”

 

“I have come once before. To meet the one who rules this home.”

 

The harsh northern winds carried unsettled snow upright into a violent dance from right to left. The sharp tune as ice shards broke that pace, echoing around them. Those howling winds pressed against the riders who braved the shadows. The crows took from their perches, beginning to swirl and cling to the bastion’s side, as if tethered to something within.

 

“For what use is there talk?”

 

“Present yourself. What use is there for words if not to understand?”

 

The Hunter’s tone carried neither malice nor illness. Though spoken loud enough to conquer the deafening winds, his voice carried the gentle waves of the southern shores where he often resided.

 

The Crowlord emerged from the walled entrance, which gave way to his thudding arrival. The winds whipped and the snow beat against this stretched figure of grim metal. Even despite the cold, blood-fire lashed off the form of the Farmer who met the two riders.

 

“I will entertain you. Until I am bored.”

 

“I have much to ask, should you be inclined to speak on.”

 

Though separated by a ferrum gate armored in deep ice, the two kept their distances from one another as they conversed. The accompanying rider set his attention towards other residents of the fortress, bellowing out his own tribulations their way.

 

“I have met some of you. Battled fewer. Yet I also noticed many of yours with those of the Black Church.

“An alliance? A truce, perhaps, for something you wish to achieve?”

 

“Why spoil the surprise? Delayed gratification is more rewarding. Dread even moreso.”

 

“I have run into a number of surprises as of late. You know of our goals then? The Crusade in the South?”

 

“To remove the blight. The wraith’s presence. But so be it, it has been lax. Quiet even.”

 

“A notion I unfortunately agree on.”

 

“To me, you are all a theater of battle for which to prove our fearsomeness. So when the time is ripe, our fight ordained, let us exchange without restraint.”

 

The two carried on their conversation akin to strangers making small talk to pass on the ticking clock. Perhaps they both had somewhere else to be, and yet they gave one another their attention, their words, and their understanding.

 

“Those under the Bishop will be struck down first. The Pontiff’s determination may then fall on the Western Tower, or here.”

 

“You want the Bishop and the Pontiff?”

 

“The issue with one Church attacking another. You get the people in charge confused.”

 

A hand, once hidden under the dark underlayer of his cloak soon revealed itself. The rear of his palm knocked against the ferrum gate, testing how readily the ice was to break away.

 

“Our Pontiff. Their Bishop. Do you all revel in knowing we shall march North in time?”

 

“Crusades come and go. But time and time again, they only delay an inevitable return. The crops may grow, but the swarm of locusts always reaps its due.”

 

“Another point I cannot take from you.”

 

“It is a dance, a back and forth. As Empires rise and fall, as World Orders shift, the Dark does too.”

 

“When groupings such as yours come together, it is after years of the last falling to ruins. Just as our nations. Just like us all.”

 

The overbearing storm took hold of all sound. Shadows across horizontal casts of blizzard snow were all that kept both keenly aware of where the other still remained. As the torrent subsided, newcomers joined the commotion. Atop the skull that watched over the isle, there came a figure shroud in darkness at the height of a Dwarf, accompanied by a laughter befitting insanity.

 

“Do you lead this fortress in its efforts, Farmer?”

 

“I do not lead it.”

 

“Then we talk as neither heads of our wars, nor victims of it.

“You mentioned your desires once before. For a theater - a stage to cast your fear over the world that will receive it.”

 

A terrible crack of green lightning struck the parapet above the skull. A writhing mass of black fire laced with occult green light rises up like a tidal storm. Flowing from the gaping holes of the skull’s once-nose, a large leering face of malevolence-proper glared down at the fortress’ visitors. Hatred and contempt were present to all gazing upwards.

 

“Then hear me, as I make my recommendation towards you, and to any who reside here and listen. Let the Black Church fall. Worry yourselves here, within these walls, and care not for the war in the South. Ready yourselves instead for the magnificence of wonder you dream of when it is our turn to sail onto you.”

 

“It may fall. You may even succeed in your objective in the South. But you will be facing many surprises, riders. Heed and stand ready for our collective arrival.”

 

Slowly, as the riders readied themselves to depart, the grand stone doors to the keep ground opened. The iron gates shook free the ice that settled about them and rose upwards. That menacing green fog slowly leaked out of the opening, accompanied by numerous, glittering eyes that glow in the dark depths. The sorcerer of these works - The Witch King - taunted them. A dare to enter and fight; a plead to give them a show they can witness now instead of later.

 

“So be it then. Mercy was never something afforded to either of us.”

 

“Try as you may. Find us if you can. Die if you cannot.”

 

“In whoever’s name you pray to, it matters not.”

 

Those vapors of disharmonious green crept closer to the riders. With his words said, his understanding had, and his priorities aligned, that Hunter raised his hand up from within the cloak he kept it, bidding those of unholy conscious farewell.

 

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Spoiler

Narrative post of my recent visit up North. No metagaming unless you were present for the roleplay.

A mix of emotes given from @femurlordand @King_Kunuk thrown into my overall narrative writing. Thanks for the RP.

 

[Ben40K 62]

Spoiler

Based

 

[King_Kunuk 3022]

"You have come before these hollowed crypts with bold words."

 

"I shall come down and eat your heart"

 

"You live because I will it."

 

"You'll die because I COMMAND it"

-Gravelord Adalmbhrun, also known as the Witch King

[Shadeleaf 1021]

Spoiler

As much as I NEED to write an actual RP response to this let me just say that your choice of music fit so well with the pacing of your narrative. Extremely good work, and truly a pleasure to read. Fantastic voice, astounding consistency of tone, really just a master-class.

 

[Seuss 1056]

23 minutes ago, Shadeleaf said:

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Thank you a lot for that. Kunuk sent me the song because he believed it fit the theme of the place best. I let it play while I wrote everything out and it just fit like a puzzle.