Post by TheRuddyRaku! on Jan 25, 2010 16:18:20 GMT -6
If you are easily offended please do NOT read. if you have and think it is un-ethical, or unsuitable for the forum, i URGE you to get it deleted immediately By contacting a moderator. Or myself.. Read at your own risk.
Thor kneeled in his tent, at a small self-made alter worshipping the god Krol. The merciless god of war. he understood a major battle was to take place, and his gaze hung dimly with fatigue and depression. He gave a sigh and offered another quick prayer to his god, Little did he know the role in which he would play in the warmongers scheme.
The man in armour stood, the folded plates of steel clattering quietly against his weathered frame. Too weathered for a battle like this some might say. Thor was in his thirties, a man of stature, of battlefeild prowess. But as the wars lingered on, he found it harder and harder to cope, each battlefeild seeming more of a struggle than the last. He grew from a culture based on warfare, a secretive race of men, who only spoke to outsiders with the blade of a sword, or the shaft of an arrow.
He could feel it deep in his bones, that this would be his last battle. a deep antagonising feeling nagging away at his sences and frame of mind. But instead, he chose to belittle such thoughts, forcing them out of reach in the back of his mind where his commanding stature could take over. Thor continued his meditation, hoping to himself that he would live to see the harvest of another crop, to kiss his wife's lips, or see his unborn child grow up.
Such patriotism was shunned in his culture, Barbaricity being the main source of politics in his realm. Thor gave a sigh, and turned around as a whisper nudged his ear ever so lightly.
"You shall see your wife, Harvest your crops one last time, and see your unborn child before death takes you."
Thor grimaced, unknowing of where the bold voice came from. Uncaring as he prompted his duty before superstitions took over his life. He resumed his meditation, Listening out for the bold mysterious voice. Could it have been Krol himself? No, such a god speaking to a mere mortal was sheer... well, outragious! He kneeled before his alter and prayed enthusiasticly, hoping for the voice to confront him again, part of him hoped it was real, the rest, Knowing of Krol's nature did not.
His frame of mind lingered to the incantations of assurence in his head, hoping for some other sign of Krol in his mind, or ear.
"Man-Folk, You wish for your lingering battlefeild edevour to end, Yes?"
Thor muttered automaticly to himself, as if answering a question he instinctively knew the answer to.
"Yes"
His mind quickly slipped as he heard The voice again, already regretting his descision as it replied hastilly.
"And so it shall Man."
Without hesitation, the thunder of drum-beat pounded in the distance, the sign of approaching infantry as a reign of arrows peirced the flimsy material of his tent, setting it alight as dozens more thundered as if from the heavens. Thor immediately dived under the table as he heard the whistleing of arrows waltzing through the air, and dived under his table in cowardice, the action saving his very life as arrow shafts splinted his makeshift sheild, some going as far as to peirce it entirely, clattering off of his pewter armour.
Horns blazed near and far as thor sprinted from his tent, sweat plastering his primative shirt, In the horror of what he had done. His panicked gaze poked out from the tent, seeing his men mauled, as pockets of resistance attempted to fight back the sudden menace.
"If there is a god, please help me!" He shouted, the sounds of arrows bellowing over his screeches. No help came. Upon himself, an act of courage for even leaving his flaming tent, his armoured form snatched his sword, where it lay outside his tent as a marking post for anyone who should see him. The blade felt heavy in his hands, yet his heart felt light and full of fear. With a bellow he ran into the masses, attempting to rally the small group of his men left near him, his blade cleaving in a left to right horizontal slash across the torso of one man, raising a spear to his navel.
The blow clattered from his armour as he aimed a second stroke at the withering body, de-capitating it save for a large flap of muscle hanging on to the severed link. His makeshift table-sheild in his hand he batted the dyimg man over as he shreiked in agony. a second bellow encroaching from his lips.
"FOR KROL!"
His roar cry eched near and far as his eyes could see, a hint of adrenaline taking effect in his system. He thrust his sword into the stomach of a man ahead of him, the blow tearing past his barbaric cloth and ripping the blade out of the right side of his gut, sending a spewwing stream of gore from his now disected belly.
within seconds of the sweeps of his claymores a pike speared at his chest, tearing away part of his sohoulderguard as a backhand swipe hit him in the helm, sending the man to his knees with a grunt. Some sort of swordsman stood over his form, swinging his blade down at his head where it was deflected by the hilt of thors blade, yet the blow still hit his helm, making him see stars in the daylight.
As he saw stars visions blurred in his head the first was of a canine in the distance, Looming into his gaze, he saw his wife brutally murdered before his eyes, her agonised screams doing little to re-assure him. He saw her stomach ripped open sending his unborn child to the floor, now dead. and he saw his homeland burning, rows of crops glintng in the night, Simultainously Krol's voice boomed in his head.
He stutted loudly as his sanity shredded in moments.
"N-No!!! YOU SAID I COULD SEE HER AGAIN! WATCH MY CROPS HARVESTED! SEE MY CHILD!"
Krol's voice lingered in his head with a hiss. "I have sent you visions fool, Were they not of what you asked?"
"No!"
He screamed loudly, clefting the man to his front with a bellow of rage, relishing the way his torso shredded in two.
His blade leapt in his hands as though with a mind of its own, his movements speedy an instinctive, as though he were not in controll of his body.
he Became a whirlwind of death, chopping, hacking, punching, and cleaving through anything in his way. His eyes were torrents of fire, his next blow de-capitated another man, his hands flailed uselessly as his headless corpse sprawled to the floor, His eyes burned into a factions leader. And his bored back into Throl's. He gave a challenging bellow, and hacked at the man, watching his counter thrust parry, then rip at his already half broken shoulderguard, looking for a weakness in his armour. he found one. He roared a bellow of agony as the blade seared into his flesh, causing a scream to fill his lungs, and blood to run down his red armour, Once silver. He watched his blade bite into his shoulder, and pushed it further in, getting in range for a de-capitation and acheiving it, hacking his arm off in the process. He continued one armed as he hacked into the masses, cleaving to and fro as his body would allow, the magic began wearing off, and pain returned, his movements slowwed by bloodloss, as a sword reached out, and a fist seized his head, drawing the blade across his throat with desperate speed.
"I have given you your wish. Thankyou for your battle. Enjoy the afterlife."
Thor died that day. Krols gift to him had been to see his family and home. He had, but not in the way he had wanted.
Thor kneeled in his tent, at a small self-made alter worshipping the god Krol. The merciless god of war. he understood a major battle was to take place, and his gaze hung dimly with fatigue and depression. He gave a sigh and offered another quick prayer to his god, Little did he know the role in which he would play in the warmongers scheme.
The man in armour stood, the folded plates of steel clattering quietly against his weathered frame. Too weathered for a battle like this some might say. Thor was in his thirties, a man of stature, of battlefeild prowess. But as the wars lingered on, he found it harder and harder to cope, each battlefeild seeming more of a struggle than the last. He grew from a culture based on warfare, a secretive race of men, who only spoke to outsiders with the blade of a sword, or the shaft of an arrow.
He could feel it deep in his bones, that this would be his last battle. a deep antagonising feeling nagging away at his sences and frame of mind. But instead, he chose to belittle such thoughts, forcing them out of reach in the back of his mind where his commanding stature could take over. Thor continued his meditation, hoping to himself that he would live to see the harvest of another crop, to kiss his wife's lips, or see his unborn child grow up.
Such patriotism was shunned in his culture, Barbaricity being the main source of politics in his realm. Thor gave a sigh, and turned around as a whisper nudged his ear ever so lightly.
"You shall see your wife, Harvest your crops one last time, and see your unborn child before death takes you."
Thor grimaced, unknowing of where the bold voice came from. Uncaring as he prompted his duty before superstitions took over his life. He resumed his meditation, Listening out for the bold mysterious voice. Could it have been Krol himself? No, such a god speaking to a mere mortal was sheer... well, outragious! He kneeled before his alter and prayed enthusiasticly, hoping for the voice to confront him again, part of him hoped it was real, the rest, Knowing of Krol's nature did not.
His frame of mind lingered to the incantations of assurence in his head, hoping for some other sign of Krol in his mind, or ear.
"Man-Folk, You wish for your lingering battlefeild edevour to end, Yes?"
Thor muttered automaticly to himself, as if answering a question he instinctively knew the answer to.
"Yes"
His mind quickly slipped as he heard The voice again, already regretting his descision as it replied hastilly.
"And so it shall Man."
Without hesitation, the thunder of drum-beat pounded in the distance, the sign of approaching infantry as a reign of arrows peirced the flimsy material of his tent, setting it alight as dozens more thundered as if from the heavens. Thor immediately dived under the table as he heard the whistleing of arrows waltzing through the air, and dived under his table in cowardice, the action saving his very life as arrow shafts splinted his makeshift sheild, some going as far as to peirce it entirely, clattering off of his pewter armour.
Horns blazed near and far as thor sprinted from his tent, sweat plastering his primative shirt, In the horror of what he had done. His panicked gaze poked out from the tent, seeing his men mauled, as pockets of resistance attempted to fight back the sudden menace.
"If there is a god, please help me!" He shouted, the sounds of arrows bellowing over his screeches. No help came. Upon himself, an act of courage for even leaving his flaming tent, his armoured form snatched his sword, where it lay outside his tent as a marking post for anyone who should see him. The blade felt heavy in his hands, yet his heart felt light and full of fear. With a bellow he ran into the masses, attempting to rally the small group of his men left near him, his blade cleaving in a left to right horizontal slash across the torso of one man, raising a spear to his navel.
The blow clattered from his armour as he aimed a second stroke at the withering body, de-capitating it save for a large flap of muscle hanging on to the severed link. His makeshift table-sheild in his hand he batted the dyimg man over as he shreiked in agony. a second bellow encroaching from his lips.
"FOR KROL!"
His roar cry eched near and far as his eyes could see, a hint of adrenaline taking effect in his system. He thrust his sword into the stomach of a man ahead of him, the blow tearing past his barbaric cloth and ripping the blade out of the right side of his gut, sending a spewwing stream of gore from his now disected belly.
within seconds of the sweeps of his claymores a pike speared at his chest, tearing away part of his sohoulderguard as a backhand swipe hit him in the helm, sending the man to his knees with a grunt. Some sort of swordsman stood over his form, swinging his blade down at his head where it was deflected by the hilt of thors blade, yet the blow still hit his helm, making him see stars in the daylight.
As he saw stars visions blurred in his head the first was of a canine in the distance, Looming into his gaze, he saw his wife brutally murdered before his eyes, her agonised screams doing little to re-assure him. He saw her stomach ripped open sending his unborn child to the floor, now dead. and he saw his homeland burning, rows of crops glintng in the night, Simultainously Krol's voice boomed in his head.
He stutted loudly as his sanity shredded in moments.
"N-No!!! YOU SAID I COULD SEE HER AGAIN! WATCH MY CROPS HARVESTED! SEE MY CHILD!"
Krol's voice lingered in his head with a hiss. "I have sent you visions fool, Were they not of what you asked?"
"No!"
He screamed loudly, clefting the man to his front with a bellow of rage, relishing the way his torso shredded in two.
His blade leapt in his hands as though with a mind of its own, his movements speedy an instinctive, as though he were not in controll of his body.
he Became a whirlwind of death, chopping, hacking, punching, and cleaving through anything in his way. His eyes were torrents of fire, his next blow de-capitated another man, his hands flailed uselessly as his headless corpse sprawled to the floor, His eyes burned into a factions leader. And his bored back into Throl's. He gave a challenging bellow, and hacked at the man, watching his counter thrust parry, then rip at his already half broken shoulderguard, looking for a weakness in his armour. he found one. He roared a bellow of agony as the blade seared into his flesh, causing a scream to fill his lungs, and blood to run down his red armour, Once silver. He watched his blade bite into his shoulder, and pushed it further in, getting in range for a de-capitation and acheiving it, hacking his arm off in the process. He continued one armed as he hacked into the masses, cleaving to and fro as his body would allow, the magic began wearing off, and pain returned, his movements slowwed by bloodloss, as a sword reached out, and a fist seized his head, drawing the blade across his throat with desperate speed.
"I have given you your wish. Thankyou for your battle. Enjoy the afterlife."
Thor died that day. Krols gift to him had been to see his family and home. He had, but not in the way he had wanted.
