Opening his eyes, Rune forces himself to sit up. Groggily looking around, the chamber seems the same as it has been. Turning around, he meets the patient gaze of Talbot. "What happened? I feel.. different."
"You are a Reaper now," Talbot replies, "you have taken the oath, and sealed it with the ancestral spirits."
"That's it, then?" Rune asks. "I don't feel any stronger.. just sick."
"You'll feel the improvement a hundred years down the road, and - if you're lucky - in a millenium." Talbot grins, easing back in his throne. "Don't be fooled; you have changed already. You won't feel time the same way, wounds will adorn your body less, and your body will bolster its strength."
Remembering how Terzogue had cleaved through the stone pillar in the dragon's cave, Rune nods in acknowledgement. This could be the source of that exhibited strength, which Rune will likely need. And, speaking of Terzogue... "Grandmaster Talbot," Rune says, "before Terzogue's passing, he wanted me to tell you 'the sun must rise.'"
"And it has indeed," Talbot comments, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "It seems you have been chosen by him for the White Sun matter."
"White Sun?" Confused, Rune waits for further explanation.
"The White Sun is a glorified cult," Talbot starts, "A few years before the Reign of Darkness began, a group of individuals ran a guild dedicated to hunting and exterminating foul things. Witches, vampires, werewolves and the likes were not safe as long as they were at work."
"Sounds like they could be helpful."
"Could have been; one night, all of these individuals were supposedly visited by Anto himself."
"If they were visited by Anto, how could that be a problem?"
"If that was not Anto." Talbot leans back in his throne, watching the doors expectantly. "Decieved by Siyerrod, the Queen's jester, they were told to that their guild must be dedicated to the worship of Anto, and call themselves the White Sun. Nothing changed for the founders' slives, who resumed their struggle to rid the world of tainted beings. Until one evening, Siyerrod whispered a lie so cunning, it shone as truth would; if they truly wanted the world to be pure, then the world must be cleaned of all its flaws. Sentient life is one of the key flaws tainting the world. Those who aided in this goal would be given salvation and live with the deity himself."
"But where will they go?"
Talbot sighs. "They have already committed themselves to Siyerrod's will; they are all condemned to the Queen's domain. But, more to the matter at hand, it is beyond us how they will find the means to wipe this world of life, but with the aid of that devious god, I doubt it is impossible."
"Why would the Queen do such a thing?" Rune asks. "An empty world is useless."
"That's where you are--"
The doors' clicking is followed by it swinging wide open. Clad in the familiar midnight-black armor of the Reapers, a man - with green flesh, appearing as strong as an ox with tusks protruding from his lower jaw - collapses to the chamber floor, huffing heavily as blood paints the stone. "They found the runaway," he pants, "but.... White Sun.. overran.."
"Easy, orc," Talbot says, hurrying over to him. "Breathe easily. Your brothers and sisters will need you for another fight."
The orc's beefy arm raises up, grabbing Talbot's shoulder to make eye conact. "Don't... d-don't let," he stutters, before giving one final shudder as he collapses on the floor. All is silent as the light leaves his eyes.
Shaking his head with a melancholic sigh, Talbot lays the orc down flat on the floor, before glancing up at Rune. "You heard him. There will likely already be reinforcements en route to the battle's location; join up with them, and save your brother. I fear that is who they have come so far for."
With a nod, Rune turns on his heel, striding out through the doors. In front of him stands Leina and Silverfall, both bearing an expectant look. "Do either of you know the way?"
"I do," responds Leina.
"I can follow--"
"Stay here. Talbot will need your help."
Witha cold glare, Silverwind stalks off into the chamber.
Leina hurries through the various corridors down the grandmaster's stairs. Somehow, she does not second-guess herself winding through this maze.
Trying to memorize the turns himself, Rune quickly loses track, and just focuses on keeping up with Leina. It would likely come to him over time.The kiss of cold air signifies their close proximity to the exit. "What will we do if we run into the White Sun?" he asks as they round one more corner, the light of dawn breaching through the open entryway.
“The exact courtesy they gave to us shall be returned in full,” says Leina. She steps outside - along with Rune - of the Nexus and into all too familiar ice.
Rune’s eyes set upon the valley below, where a usually calm sea of evergreens reside. Smoke billows from various burning patches in the forest; someone is setting the forest ablaze! Where shou-” Rune’s eyes fixate where Leina stood - now gone. With a shake of his head, he begins to work his way down the steep decline into the valley. Leina’s words from before echo in his head, about how they stood a better chance apart.
Quit thinking about your little vixen, and worry about the task at hand. The tone in Siden’s voice is lined with something.. unlike him.
“Is that anxiety I hear in your voice?” he asks in a whisper, slowing down as he navigates his way through the dense branches.
You’re damn right I’m anxious, Siden retorts, there's a powerful abomination molded after me sealed away in an unstable host, being chased by fanatics trying to capture him. Why should I not be anxious?
"Capture?"
Unlike you fools, I have a better idea on why someone would be out here, fighting these Reapers when there's conveniently a good reason to do so.
Drawing Gwynt from his sheath, Rune nods. "Okay, you make a fair point," he admits, stepping out of the trees to catch the figures' attentions. Their white clothing would have easily hidden them in the pure white snow, but with the pines and flames, their garb is useless as camoflague. A golden pendant with the image of a sun stamped into the center adorns the neck of each. One of these men meet Rune's gaze with a chilling yet equal represent of attitude towards foes; cold, calculative, and determined.
"Turn back, traveler," the cultist orders, "this place is a haven to a dangerous being. You will perish in this forest, as we fight to put down this menace."
"Is that a warning or a threat?" Holding his ground, Rune readies Gwynt, prepared to spill the blood of his enemies. "And menace or not, I will not let you harm my brother. I'll cut you down to the last man if that is what it will take."
"Fool," the man mutters, giving a gesture to his comrades, one of which loads a crossbow. "The White Sun is bigger than you, bigger than your pesky Reapers, and bigger than any standing army. Fighting us is certain doom. It won't matter soon.. salvation is close, I can almost taste it.." Armed with a maul - so well crafted its beauty matches the terror it formulates simply by being raised into the air - the man begins to rush towards Rune. "And it is neither a warning nor threat; it is a promise!"
Taking a quick step backwards when the maul's brute force tears through the air, Rune feels the bone-crushing fury smashing through his absence. Intending to strike, Rune angles Gwynt to pierce through the maul-wielding brute's chest. A feeling - like that of a hot knife - halts his blow as something slams into his shoulder, causing Rune to stagger backwards. Before he can recover, he recieves a shoulder-bash, knocking him off his feet and onto his back, winded.
"Shrivel before the might of the White Sun!" cries the man, raising his maul to finish of a bewildered Rune. Suddenly, a battle cry - so vigorous it is terrifying - breaks the man's focus when a hulking orc lumbers towards him. The brawny orc lifts him off his feet with one green pillar of an arm and hurls him into a tree.
Rune tries to put Gwynt between himself and the orc, but looking at his right shoulder, his eyes rest upon the bolt sticking out of it. The orc's hands reach down and lift him up. Rune's eyes meet the orc's as the other two cultist - shocked by the bare-handed juggernaut - hurry around the two to tend to their own injured comrade.
The orc sniffs Rune, before opening his mouth to formulate words. "Friend... saved... fight.. sun." Setting Rune down, the orc bounds towards the remaining two cultists. Picking up the maul, he slams it into one's ribs, the cracking loud enough to make Rune cringe. The other cultist gives a shriek before the orc ends it with a heavy landing on the cultist's skull.
Still in shock at the sudden entry of the large orc and the violent ensuement of the cultists' elimination, Rune does not move to escape nor provoke the orc. Though perhaps what the orc meant by his broken dialogue is that Rune is not meant to be another foe?
Dropping the maul, the orc turns around to face Rune. "Eiden," he says, pounding his fist on his exposed torso. Approaching Rune, the orc jabs his chest with a finger. "Friend?"
Not eager to join the pile of bodies, Rune lets the orc he assumes is named Eiden poke away. Nodding in response to Eiden's question, Rune clears his throat. "Yes, I'm your friend. My name is Runeshot, Ranger of the North. I'm looking for someone."
"Someone?" Eiden points a finger at the three bodies that lay limp.
"No, not them," says Rune. "It's my brother."
"Brother," Eiden echoes, thinking. Scratching his head, he gives a simple shrug. "Somewhere."
"Thanks," Rune says, feigning gratitude with a warm grin for Eiden's beaming smile. A shooting pain roots into his shoulder as the adrenaline of battle fades. Feeling with his hand, he wraps his fingers around the metal shaft of the crossbow's bolt.
"Shot," Eiden comments, brushing away Rune's hand as he studies the bolt himself. "Help?"
"Help? What do you--" Rune grits his teeth and groans in pain; the oaf rips out the bolt without hesitation. "What in the name of Tarlmisac did you just do?"
"Helped." Eiden tosses the bloodied bolt behind him, but sniffs what blood of Rune's remains on his finger. Turning around, he points into the direction of the concentration of the fire. "Brother."
"In that direction?"
His finger still pointing at the open flames, Eiden nods his head frantically.
"Okay, okay, we'll get there. But first, my wound--" The sudden absence of the pain surprises Rune, who reaches to feel nothing but a hole in his coat. That, and the cold trying to pervade his body and its warmth. Adjusting his coat, he seals the hole with one of the various layers. "It will work for now," he mutters before beginning to navigate through the trees. The regeneration intrigued him, but not enough to take priority over his brother.
Soon enough, the cold is no longer an issue; the trees are pillars of fire reaching up into the air. Faint shouts, clanging of steel and battle cries reach Rune's ears from deeper into the forest. Through the treeline, Rune spots Goldshot in the middle of a horde of more cultists.
Though, Gold does not seem the same as Rune remembers; utterly calm in the face of almost certain death, his eyes are pure black, iris and all. His flesh is much more pale, with several glowing marks on his body which pulse a fierce red. One of the cultists swings his blade at Gold, only to have it whistle through empty air. Goldshot's palm lands firmly on the cultist's chest. The connection lasts for only a second before the attacker lets out a violent shudder and crumples to the snow, unmoving. As more of them come at Goldshot from all angles, he bypasses the oncoming blows with swift maneuvers of his body.
Your brother is not that man anymore, explains Siden, it is the shell of what I was; an archdemon, serving under On'hino, God of War and Devastation. That shelll not only has my power, but the god's teachings to use it. As he stands, he is a great threat to your destiny; destroy him now, before he grows any stronger.
"But my brother will die as well," Rune says while watching Gold dispatch the cultist with ease, even though he is unarmed. The bodies pile up as it becomes clear that the White Sun has little to no chance of victory against him. As their numbers are decimated, the remaining cultists retreat into the treeline.
"Go?" Eiden asks, still pointing his finger at Gold.
"No, you stay here." Rune creeps out of the trees, walking towards Goldshot from behind, stepping over numerous bodies. Once he draws close enough, he clears his throat.
Whirling around, Goldshot grins. "It's been a long time since I got to kill someone on my own. These mortals are so.. fragile, and so easy to cower." Chuckling, he folds his arm over his chest. "I can feel the other half of me there. How has he been?"
A little sickened; if the Queen has settled for you, her expectations must have dwindled. Siden's laugh does not accompany his retort this time.
"He's fine," says Rune, "better when you're back where you belong." Taking a step closer, he stares into the twin orbs filled with an abysmal darkness. "I don't care about the feud between the two of you; I just want my brother back, or at peace."
"Do you, now?" Raising an eyebrow, the possessed Goldshot simply shrugs. "I wish I could abandon this pathetic vessel, but I cannot. I was sealed within this from since both of our creations. Too weak to survive on my own, I leeched on your brother for enough energy to self-sustain, and for now I need him where I have been for all these years; imprisoned, watching the show. That is, until I am strong enough to take my true form. But then he would have perished; his soul's energy is vital to put on such a plan."
"Then we are at an impasse," Rune says as he stands in place, his muscles tensing. "I would rather he takes a quick death than endure a slow one." His muscles tense further as his 'brother' lets out a cacophonous cackle.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. I can already feel some of my power returning, and even this miniscule amount is enough to prevent you from even touching this vessel." The smoke from the flames billow in between Goldshot's tennant and Rune, obscuring the surroundings to the naked eye. "I am Sidileth, the archdemon born of abandon, from dust to deity with little effort. I'll see you when you're ready to draw your last breath."
Rune cuts through the smoke - where Sidileth stood - to hit nothing but the ground. The smoke leaves everything - except Rune's mind - clear after dissipating. He stands there, glowering at the tracks left by Sidieleth. They continue in no certain direction; the archdemon is gone without a trace.
"Brother?" Eiden calls out from afar.
Gritting his teeth tightly, Rune closes his eyes, giving a sharp exhale. Blood boiling in his veins, he tries to organise his feelings; fear, rage, grief, panic, they all run rampant. However, a faint voice in the back of his head says one word.
Endure.
The blooming of the flames die down, and the winds relent. A ray of moonlight pierces the canopy of grey clouds and shines upon Rune. If the Queen is doing this to send you into dismay, then she is frantically trying to stop you.
"Siden, what are you saying? This doesn't sound like you," mutters Rune, looking down at Gwynt's blade, which seems unusually light.
It isn't me, Siden replies.
Surely you recognize me, do you not? The voice seems less crude than Siden's - more sincere. Do you remember not how I released you from this blade’s twisted grasp when you lost your focus, when you let rage consume you?
“I do,” murmurs Rune, “but why now?” Sliding Gwynt into its scabbard, he glances over the carnage. Bodies of the cultists lay strewn everywhere; not a single survivor remains. “You have remained quiet until now; where were you?”
I have spoken before, but only when it is necessary. Do not believe that I care little for the struggle against the Queen of Darkness. However, it is through your strength alone that this realm may be rid of her and her minions.
“But how?” When no response supplies his heavily curt question, Rune’s lips twist into a frown. Only when it is necessary.
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