The War of the Black Rose Excerpt from Alderian History
The war had been going on for ages it felt like to Mathias. The field was decimated, bodies of both human, elf, Ti’Darrii… Every race in the Alliance had suffered casualties, but none as massive as that as the nameless hulks littering the field surrounded by rings of the dead and wounded. To each gargantuan soldier, it took a dozen of the Alliance to kill it unless someone got a lucky shot in, which was rare to none. Already the healers roved around the dead and wounded, lifting those who could be cared for and making those who they could not more comfortable. Mathias wished he was laying on that field, his life’s blood ebbing out onto the dead grass, grass he knew would never grow again. He filled his lungs with air, choking slightly on the metallic tinge of magic in the air. So much had flown that the air was poisoned by it almost. While one cannot die from inhaling raw magic, it did make one feel rather ill afterwards. But Mathias was used to it. He lifted his arm, his once lustrous armor dull and bent, broken at places. His glove was ripped and stained by blood, his own or his enemy’s he had no idea. He hefted his blade, the gleaming star-metal glowing blue in the mid-afternoon light. He ran a hand over his face, wiping the sweat and dirt from his eyes and skin. His helmet was long gone, removed at the swipe from one of the creatures. He didn’t remember their names, but it was a name to be cursed throughout the centuries. His dark brown hair was covered in the dust of war, his small beard whipping lightly in the breeze. The knight had dark eyes, so dark they seemed to peer into the soul they looked upon, matching his hair which was pulled back into a ponytail.
Thousands have stained the earth this night, forever riven from their loves and lives… The man thought, looking over the mile of battlefield around him. He looked down at the body at his feet. What once was a man was now a dark beast with eyes the red of blood and skin the shade of coal. They wore little armor, at least the infantry did. Mindless beasts torn of their sanity to run forward to be broken on the lines of disciplined soldiers. He turned, seeing a young woman cradling the dying face of her beloved, tears running down her face as he whispered into her ear as the life slowly ebbed from him. “Sad, is it not…” said a voice beside him. The man did not turn, for he knew that voice. A dark robed man stepped forward. There was nothing particularly exceptional about the dark man. He wore a black robe, a necklace of silver with a bright green gem in the middle, and a pair of soft shoes, not exactly garb worn by those who had just battled for the sake of the planet. “To see ones love fading before your eyes and powerless to stop it… Rends the heart, it does…” the robed figure continued, wiping away a false tear from his eyes. He turned, his pale face gaunt and scarred from centuries of “experiments”. His eyes were clear and very green, not the eyes of a maddened sorcerer as he was. A single black line ran down the right side of his face over his right eye. “You have tortured me enough, Callis, why continue? You show me things that only make me hate you more…” the knight replied, anger and disgust clouding his speech, his hand waving at the weeping woman and the dying soldier in her arms.
“Ah, but it is the things that I show you that make it so much more enjoyable. You see her, your loving wife, cradling your body in her arms as I suck the life from you, and yet you do not hear her last goodbyes…” the sorcerer replied, his thin fingers - nails as black as pitch trailing over the battered armor - raking over the knights shoulder as the man walked around his precious pet. He stepped close to the pair, the two lovers unaware of the ghostly presence over them. “She is beautiful, is she not? Golden locks of hair, eyes like crystalline waters, and a voice that can sooth any battered soul… Why you chose her is obvious, but why she chose you is still a mystery…” Callis continued, running his eyes over the torn violet robes the woman wore, strong shoes on her feet and bracelets over his wrists. Indeed she was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women alive. “Are you jealous, brother?” Mathias asked, a smirk over his lips. Callis rounded, lifting his left hand into the air, a black gauntlet over his pale flesh, ribs of an unknown metal clawing into his skin. The gauntlet glowed, a red fire streaming from the fingertips, lifting the knight into the air with a startled gasp. His eyes burned crimson, wrath aflame on his features. “Do not think that my anger will kill you, brother dear. I have other plans for you, Windrider…” He said, his voice gritted behind barred teeth. He dropped his hand, his half-brother landing on the ground with a heavy thump, collapsing to his knees with a gasp of air.
The twisted sorcerer stepped forward, whispering words of Power and once more trailing his hand over the knights armor. As his bent fingers touched, green fire raced down the mans body, pain erupting through his body. Mathias’ back arched in agony, his scream torn from his lips as the emerald flames bored into his eyes, mouth, and nose. Callis crouched down next to his brother’s face, smiling pitilessly as the curse raced through his brothers body. “This is my curse on you, brother-mine… You remember that silly story about the woman and the beast? How the beast was so ugly that no one would love him, yet the woman did? My curse on you is this: I have changed you into a monster, not the ones you so easily tore apart but one of such horror that stories will be written of your evil throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Only the greatest of things can save you: Sacrifice. If your love happens to find you, better not let her touch you. Your curse will break, that I have no doubt, but I will get her soul. The price is this: You become a monster to destroy all of the life on this miserable world, or I get your lovers soul to play with for the rest of eternity. Your love or your life, big brother.” He leaned in closer, whispering: “You took my love from me, brother, now I have taken yours from you…” Callis grinned evilly, the curse wrapping throughout the paladin’s body. Mathias, agony ripping through his body at an increasingly large amount, put his lips to his brothers ear. The blood drained from Callis’s face, his emerald eyes flicking to the weeping sorceress. “It cannot be…” He whispered, fear and doubt in his voice. But he was too late. They began to fade away, a sick smile on the cursed man’s face as the dark sorcerer raged in anger and fear, his shouts only heard by the one who just revealed the sorcerer’s destruction: Her name was Dianna, and she was pregnant.
Lord Arimor Darkheart · Sat Jan 15, 2011 @ 02:41am · 0 Comments |