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| Rebirth; -Closed- | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Fri Jul 22, 2011 11:07 pm (156 Views) | |
| Lyria | Fri Jul 22, 2011 11:07 pm Post #1 |
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- Two Years Ago - Screams cut through the warm night air, creating a diabolic symphony consisting of hundreds of human voices calling out in pain. What buildings weren't shattered and demolished were on fire, creating an ashen rain that coated everything within sight in a layer of black soot. Piles of rubble that had been blasted from the surrounding homes and forifications with magic now lay in the street, further adding to the scene of madness and destruction. Amongst the debris, bodies lay broken, hideous wounds and burns marring their bodies. Some were soldiers, but many were innocent civilians. Not just men, but women and children could be seen amongst the dead. Dain Falron fell to his knees, his armor clanking as he dropped his sword. How could this have happened? Even in the heavy armor, his limbs shook, and it felt as though his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He swept his gaze over the horror around him, and saw nothing but despair and defeat. In the distance, a bestial roar crashed into existence, and howls of terror followed. Fists bound in steel clenched, but he did not rise. There was no longer any point. The demons had won and turned the noble city of Taras into a pit of death and darkness. This place was hell, and he did not have the strength to overcome it. He didn't even have the strength to save his comrades! They're all dead... He had watched every member of the Order fall before him, overcome by the might of the demon attackers. The men and women he had grown up with, his friends, his family, had been killed. Even Karos, his captain and the closest thing he had ever had to a father, had been defeated, his body consumed by unholy fire even as he slew a greater demon. His entire body convulsed at the memory, so vivid in his head. Karos had ordered him to stay away from the fighting, to help the refugees, but how could he have just stood by and allowed him to be killed? But the monster hadn't even bothered with him, knocking him unconcious instead of killing him. He had awoken to see a doomed city around him. Dead...all dead... His face fell into his trembling hands, and he slowly curled into a ball. His body felt burned from the day's battle, but physical pain seemed insignificant to the turmoil within his agonized mind. "All hope is lost." With that spoken phrase, tears slid down his face. He no longer cared about being strong. He had been strong for twenty long years, as he underwent the intense training the Order forced upon its knights. He had endured, and survived, countless battles against fiends far stronger than any that could be found on the mortal plane. He had seen friends injured, even killed, and continued on because he had been told that it was for the greater good. He no longer believed it. The men that had taught him and trained him were gone, and he was now here, alone, in a realm that knew nothing but grief. His despair would be restrained no longer. A single sob escaped his lips, and he began to howl, his cries of pure fear and sadness piercing the air and echoing to the heavens themselves. Something brushed his mind, then, and if it was possible to feel a physical sensation within one's brain, he would have thought that a warm fire was flickering nearby. He did not move. If this was some assault by a demon, a magical attack that would end his life, he welcomed it. Nothing mattered anymore. Remaining on this mortal coil was a chore, and fading from it to join his friends would be sweet bliss. He wrapped his arms around himself, fully prepared to die. What a common sight. A mortal weeping for himself, shedding tears over what cannot be changed. Do you think your weakness gives you an excuse to feel sympathy for yourself? The words were spoken in his head by a voice of flames, and the heat he mentally felt increased, as if his soul was cooking next to a raging inferno. He flinched. What mad attempt was this? Did the demon wish to mock him before it killed him? His eyes opened, and he raised himself from the infantile position, his teeth bared in an angry snarl as his eyes hunted through the night. He had given up, but he would NOT be made a fool of! Oh? So you still have fight left in you? "Who are you!?" he roared, his voice a sudden and shocking contrast to the silence that had settled around him. "Are you such a coward that you must resort to these tricks?" The voice seemed to be laughing. You are in no position to call me coward! The chuckling subsided, and the flaming voice continued. On your feet. No holy knight should grovel. It besmirchs the name of Light. He hesitated, but at the unseen speaker's urging, Dain rose. He reached for the hilt of his sword, but was interrupted. Leave it. He hesitated, but did as ordered. The voice directed him down the shattered street and into a nearby home, of which part of the roof had collapsed. Upon sighting the corpses within, he turned to leave, but the voice told him to enter. "What are you leading me to?" he questioned it. You will see. Pick up that table. He looked inside to see a large oak table, splintered in half, laying among the mess, and he approached it, careful not to step on the bodies that lay in his path. It seemed that a family had died here. He saw a girl, no older than eight, laying in her mother's arms. At least they had left together. He turned his attention on the furnishing before him, and using both arms, he managed to lift and toss it to the side. It cracked as it landed, and a plume of dust was kicked up. But his eyes were fixed at whom had layed crushed beneath the object, and for a moment he felt like curling up in a ball again. The man's head had a bloody gouge in it, but he was recognizable enough, and the armor he wore clearly marked him as a member of the order. Why Gale had removed his helmet, Dain did not know, but he knelt at his comrade's side, muttering a short but heartfelt prayer as he closed the paladin's eyelids. He looked down, and saw that the holy knight was gripping the hilt of his sword, the runic script glingting along the hilt and pommel. A paladin's sword was his most treasured posession; in the Order, upon receiving true knighthood, one's sword was enchanted to make it more powerful against his enemies. He knew the name of Gale's weapon. Eagle, to represent his love of freedom, and the sky. Take it. He no longer needs it, and your fight is not over yet. His hand hovered over the hilt of the weapon, but he had to know first. Tell me. Who or what are you? Your kind call me a celestial, a being from the holy realm. My name is Aanon, and I am a spirit of fire. Dain shook his head slowly. Of course he knew of the celestials. The most prestigous paladins fought alongside them in battle, melding their souls with the unworldly warriors to achieve unimaginable power. But he could not understand why one would speak to him. You waste your time, Aanon. I can fight no more. I don't have the power to slay these beings. They're...just too powerful. Prove yourself to me, and I will give you strength. The strength to overcome them, and to avenge your friends. But it will not be easy, and there will be a cost. He closed his eyes, gauntleted hand wrapping around the hilt of the sword. Revenge...it was a term used negatively by his teachers. They claimed it corrupted the soul, and turned all deeds evil, no matter how good the act was. Paladins were meant to fight evil for the sole purpose of purifying the world and purging those that would harm the weak and innocent. Personal agendas were not allowed. But if a holy being, a celestial, spoke of it, then surely they would not look down on him for it? He looked down at Gale's face. The man's eyes were closed, and he appeared as though he was merely sleeping, but Dain knew better. The man would never get to see his family again. He deserved justice. He rose, with the weapon in hand, and watched as it transformed into a sword of pure, glowing energy. I accept. What must I do? Aanon was quick to reply. What you were meant to do. Hunt evil. Kill it. Let nothing stand in your path. The poison must be purged from the world, and if anyone interferes, then they too shall be punished. When I deem you have become powerful enough, my power shall become yours. His armor glinted in the moonlight as it shone through the haze of slowly drifting smoke above. Dain's eyes were set before him, each step bringing him closer to leaving the city, and his painful past, behind. He did not mourn escaping into the wilderness and fresh air that was not tainted with the stench of death, but he knew that the memories would never fade. They were permanently etched into his mind, along with the words of the fire celestial as it faded away. But he could not trap himself in a cage of memories. With this sword, he would cut down any evil that stood in his way. He would not rest until all the demons of the world had returned to the deepest pits of the abyss. He had a lot of work to do. |
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2:48 PM Jul 11

