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Gregor

Turning away for perhaps a third time, he felt an arm engulf his shoulder, and turned to see the big minotaur's hard craggy features creased in worry as he stared up at the jet of black clouds. His words like a tiny worldshaker that reverberated out from his belly. "We must do something to stop the mages."

Half tempted to say that wasn't his problem anymore, Gregor wished that he could leave it all behind. Get away from the chaos, and try to clear his mind. But he had to admit that his search for the two little mudsaps would go a lot easier without all the lightning shooting down from the sky.

Feet planted apart as he thought about Lytan and Sara, lost, and alone out there, he replied, "what did you have in mind?"

But instead he heard her voice. "I know where they are, my sweet champion. Listen to my voice and I will guide you to them."

~*~

Suns hidden away behind thick black clouds that pelted rain, Khorasan stood in front of Thoradar's great tent, his face beaded with perspiration as he felt the cold surges of dark energy shift through the breeze, the swelling presence of evil in the air growing stronger, and knew the next attack would destroy them.

Heartbeat so loud he could barely hear the dwarf's shouts over the thundering rainstorm, he turned his gaze northward towards the distant mountains. Her distant white-capped peaks still glowing in the sunlight, and watched the bedraggled men and women flow around him in a daze, his attention focused on the energies that filled the soil, the air that he breathed, and the warmth of their bodies. The steel-clad warriors that reformed up on either side of him, encrusted in layers of blood, dust, and mud that they stomped their feet, and cleaned their blades. Hardened fighters and even harder warriors, they had bled the goblins dry on the hills, seen their friends fall to skeletal hands that no longer held life, and yet they showed no fear.

After all this time, it shouldn't have surprised him to see such warriors willing to give their lives away for the orcish people, not after the battle at Dolomar, but it did. This world refused to die, and they along with it.

Mouth turned downward into a determined smile, he shifted his gaze once more to the barrier that protected them in a great globe of magical energy, and saw lightning bolts break against its opalescent walls in showers of light that briefly blinded the eye.

Khorasan angling his eyesight downward to avoid the worst of it, while wondering how long they could hold out? How long could he keep this spell together? It was a thought that ran through his mind again and again as he felt his body strain to maintain the shield that weighed down on his mind like a boulder that threatened to roll over him. Those few battlemages that had been assigned to help him at the beginning, all burned out and lying there unconscious on the ground beside him, their blue robes covered in mud. And for once he did not know what made him hold on, but he did, going way past the point of exhaustion.

It would have been so much easier to simply let go, but his thoughts kept returning him to Gregor. The human, an enigma that fascinated Khorasan beyond all reason, and so he hoped that the man was still alive, and looking for a way to end this. It seemed after all these years that he still had faith in the impossible.

~*~

(Time is limited, you have only 3 choices before the defenses fail. Choose wisely.)

Head still shaking at the thought of taking orders from the voice inside his head, Gregor shrugged off the minotaur's heavily muscled forearm, could see the look of concern in those big grey eyes, and started away again down the slope. It seemed to him that no matter what he did, he could never just be, he'd always attract some kind of trouble, and nothing spoke of it as much as the scarred and blackened land around him, his boots sinking into the muddy soil, while rain soaked his spine. The tattered ruin of tents he passed by littered with thousands of dead that lay splayed out all around him, and fed on by black carrion birds that glared up at him. The few rays of sunlight that managed to break free of the darkened clouds, revealing a huge glistening dome that stretched for hundreds of miles, flocks of bloated bellow-hearts that circled the skies, and the bloodied and battered leftovers of the King's Legion. Their faces carved from ice as they arrayed themselves in wide rings to cover the slopes, winged helms washed clean by the rain, and golden banners gusting in the breeze. Those few refugees that had survived the onslaught, huddled in quivering masses behind them with their eyes glued to the sky as each thunderbolt struck the shield.

And for once Gregor was glad for its magical protection, not that he much needed it with the dark mages concentrating on the Legion.

Grey eyes turned to watch him leave, the minotaur called out to him from behind. "where are you going?"

(Say nothing.)

But Gregor kept walking, he had no time to waste on words.

+2 Morale.

(To kill.)

Gregor, looking back over his shoulder with a dangerous smile, "what I was born to do. Kill."

+2 Morale.

(What you should have done.)

Gregor, looking back over his shoulder with a tight grimace, "what you cannot do."

+1 Morale.

Chiseled hard features growing pale, Gregor thought for a second the minotaur was going to join him, before he shook his head, and whispered, "I wish you luck, warrior." The words somehow echoing on the breeze as Gregor headed down for the cover of the trees. Hopefully there he could hide until he could get close enough to deal with the blackhearts. Maybe by then he would have a proper plan.

Footsteps barely scratching the surface of the soil, he strode quickly, his gaze shifting from side to side as he saw carrion birds startled into flight from their feast, and had to force himself not to see the faces of children, babes, women, and old men that had failed to flee. The simmering white-hot rage that fountained up inside of him, a welcome respite from the cold and fear. That everything he had done was for nothing. Her voice, a soft caress across his mind, "be careful, my sweet."

Body drenched by dark rain clouds that seemed to writhe in the sky, Gregor finally made it past the tent city that surrounded the hills and valleys to the edge of the woods, and felt a grim moment of realization at the thought of the last time he had walked through a forest to save someone.

Heartbeat slowed as he peered up at trees that seemed to shoot into the heavens, he took in the rich smell of fresh pine, before his hungry gaze lingered on mushrooms the size of babies that were nestled together in patches, each made of different colors and shades that distracted the eye.

Head shaking slightly at the thought of something else at work here, he quickly moved on, trying to listen for the sound of her voice, but all he could hear was his own shuddering breaths, the forest seemingly swallowing every noise from outside to leave behind the eerie chirp of insects, and the babble of a river that he could not see.

Shadows lengthening all around him, Gregor could have sworn that he was not alone.

(Investigate.)

But as much as he searched the darkness, he could see nothing in the trees, only that tingle at the back of his neck even told him that there was anything out there.

Lips peeled back in a snarl at the time he had wasted here, he quickly hurried on, passing through the forest’s undergrowth covered in twigs, vines, and brown leaves, when he heard the rustle of footsteps from behind.

(Run.)

Nerves near shredded to ribbons, he began to run, feeling the breeze buffet against him. The creature, whatever it was, keeping pace with him easily from the shadows till he thought he saw glowing red eyes.

Stumbling headfirst into a tree trunk he'd seen too late, he galloped away with a bleeding forehead, until finally he was free, and back out in daylight. The warmth of the four suns burning the cold out of bones.

-1 HP.

(Turn and fight.)

Nerves near shredded to ribbons, he spun around on his heels, determined to face whatever it was head on, when red eyes peered out of the darkness, hundreds of them, all around him.

Palms covered with sweat as he gripped the hilt of his shortsword, he told himself he had seen worse. But one look around him told him that he should have run.

Death.

(Quicken Pace.)

Lips peeled back into a snarl at the thought of what lay hidden here, he hurried on, passing through the forest’s undergrowth covered in twigs, vines, and brown leaves, when he heard the rustle of footsteps from behind.

+1 Morale.

(Run.)

Nerves near shredded to ribbons, he began to run even faster, feeling the breeze buffet against him. The creature, whatever it was, keeping pace with him easily from the shadows till he thought he saw glowing red eyes.

Stumbling headfirst into a tree trunk he'd seen too late, he galloped away with a bleeding forehead, until finally he was free, and back out in daylight. The warmth of the four suns burning the cold out of bones.

-1 HP.

(Turn and fight.)

Nerves near shredded to ribbons, he spun around on his heels, determined to face whatever it was head on, when red eyes peered out of the darkness, hundreds of them, all around him.

Palms covered with sweat as he gripped the hilt of the shortsword, he told himself he had seen worse. But one look around him told him that he should have run.

Death.

There out of the reach of the watching eyes, he could see the four great balls of fire that lit up the horizon above, along with the ancient Fortress of Dragon's Tooth that stood on a large outcropping of rock, surrounded by a village that looked to be long abandoned.

Built from slabs of greystone, the stronghold itself dwarfed any castle he had ever seen in his lifetime, and would have put the Citadel of Light to shame, but what drew his eyes were the three black towers that sat to the left and right of the huge plateau. Her whisper, "they hide there," not needed as he felt a quiver of hot rage flood through him at the memory of Siwen's death. Its jagged black walls rising up high into the sky like a tree covered in thorns, and guarded by hundreds of orc warriors in heavy black armor that patrolled the village green.

With a blood-red haze filling the afternoon sky, Gregor thought it almost a fitting tribute to the kind of day he was having as fire roared through veins, and erupted in dancing blue flames across his skin. The insatiable hunger that had always been there, tempered by his desire to make sure none of the dark mages survived. (If you do not have enough mana, Health Points are taken instead.)

Dragon’s Fury: A fiery barrage of death from above.

Tempest: Unleash the storm.

Hurricane: Channel the air.

(Dragon's Fury. 100 Mana.)

Arms raised upward in a motion that half caught him by surprise, he let the energy he had always known was a part of him, gather inside of his chest, before he opened up his mouth, and unleashed gouts of fire that surged across the air.

Gregor, who still couldn't help thinking of himself as a warrior, staring up in horror as fireballs the size of boulders were ripped right out of his throat to strike the plateau in fiery explosions. The resulting blasts and shockwaves knocking him off his feet as he looked up to see nothing left, besides a cratered ruin, and a sore throat.

-100 Mana.

-1 HP.

+2 Morale.

(Tempest. 50 Mana.)

Arms raised upward in a motion that half caught him by surprise, he let the energy he had always known was a part of him, gather inside of his body, felt its raw power like a coiled snake, before blue lightning arched in the sky. Each sizzling bolt a thunderous crash of glowing white light that struck the high plateau, until nothing was left behind but smoking ruins and ash.

-30 Mana.

+2 Morale.

(Hurricane. 35 Mana.)

Arms raised upward in a motion that half caught him by surprise, he let the energy he had always known was a part of him, gather inside of his body, and felt something shift within him. The steady breeze that had blown through the treetops, transformed into a raging cyclone that lifted him up into the air, blades of wind knifing into his flesh, before throwing him away to crack his skull against a tree.

Death.

If at any point he hadn't been sure he was some pissdrinking fingerweaver, this left no doubt in his mind anymore, but instead of feeling relieved, he felt lost. Try as he might, he could think of no other mages that could do what he just did, and no matter how he tried to explain it to himself, he knew there was something wrong with him.

Head shaking from side to side, he turned to look back up at the darkened clouds, and saw that most of them were gone. The constant boom of thunder slowed to a trickle as the suns broke free of the black smoke to reveal a glowing white dome, his mind a maelstrom of questions from whether Lytan and Sara were still alive? To the question of who he was?

"You are, my champion, that is all that matters."

Nostrils snorting in a rueful chuckle, Gregor couldn't help but find it amusing that he was tied down to a sorceress, after all his efforts to avoid settling, but at the same time he felt more at peace with himself. If only he could make sure they were alive before he left for good, a thought that made him think of Kira. Her scarred youthful visage awash with terror as she was dragged away from him, her silver eyes streaming tears as he bellowed at her to hold on, and wondered why then he could not use his magic then? Why then could he not save her?

Heart aching from the memory, he asked, “Why weren’t you there to help me?”

And she replied back, “it was her destiny to die…”

The whip-crack of rage and fury that choked the back of his throat, making him want to scream that she was wrong, when she continued on, "but I swear to you, one day you will avenge her. But for now, you must hurry, your work is not yet complete…"

Tugged by invisible strings he had unwittingly attached to himself, he let her guide him north, and then one after the other he hunted down the mages, his body a blaze of blue flames as he flew across the land, sowing death and destruction. His eyes seeing the burnt-out homes of villages, armies of monsters that dragged captives behind them in chains, and fields of half-eaten corpses that littered farms, meadows, and roads. It was as though the armies of hell had been unleashed upon the world, and he alone was still alive...