Hard lines of restless thrashing and rocketing flashes of exhaustion wove over an eerily dark pair of eyes working behind the janitor's uniform. Deep sockets of pale bruising and wrinkles hid gorgeous red deeply soiled by magic and undeath. The specter worked hours in the power plant for a bare minimum pay, something that had sat on the help wanted list for months without a taker for this very reason, but still without complaint he would drag the broom across the hard stone floor dragging dust from the most shaded of corners and hidden nooks.
It wasn't until the bold and robust scent of smoke of a slight malfunction filled his slowly darkening lungs that the corpse showed the smallest signs of life beyond the slow drag of a broom indefinitely across the floor. Shadows began to swell and choke the life from his hollow bones, rickety joints turned to gaze at what was once copper slowly becoming wooden beams and walls blackening by flame. Thick and course uniform gave way for gun metal grays and black plate weighing heavily on his shoulders and back. As swiftly as most sensual of day dreams, the darkest of lusts, he fell into an episode and was lost to the physical and mortal world.
The past began to play heavy and dark tricks on his weakened and lonely mind portraying to his wide and despair filled eyes a moment history had forgotten.
Flames encroached from most directions of the hollowed out and purged village, the dying screams of her residence long since extinguished much as the dark clouds above threatened to choke the life from the flames that flickered and spit at his every side. A darkened world of threatening mist and slowly smothered sunlight cast the glow that the scene playing before the bloody murders walking proudly along the stone streets craved.
Once rustic streets of hay roofed homes and faded brown mud stone now burned black and glowing orange forever altered by the foolish ignorance of a sworn 'righteous' King's decree. How would one react to this sight' The ever present picture of burned black husks thrown into flames, the smell of melting flesh and soil, blood as gritty and sense gouging as smelling salts waiving from each improvised funeral pyre all creating the back drop to the image of this complete annihilation of the innocent.
But to the pair of eyes that stared lidded and indifferent at the piles of corpses and destruction this, in all her glory, wasn't the most gut wrenching part of this travesty. By every pile of mutilation and slaughter, every hole some woman had been raped and lied to in now made a burial site, every misshapen form of lunacy twisted into being assured as what needed to be done....Was a religious swath cut into a piece of pristine white cloth. Religious indignation and righteous belief what was ordered was the word of god incarnate, the hand of god and all his wrath descended in the form of his all mighty soldiers of faith to wipe clean the foolish heretic and their blasphemous ways.
The knight in black armor's eyes went wide as he watched the group, nothing more than pompous bandits with a coat of arms, put hands to one another and proclaim their sins absolved and the culling of savages completed. Bile rushed up his throat, the burning his of hatred and disbelief smothered out by the harsh gurgle of gagging and rapid rush of refuge leaving his throat onto chard black soil. This was sureal in every sense of the word to the knight!
"Brother ~~~~, have you fallen ill?" The knights eyes grew razor sharp as they turned up with a vile defiance to the approaching templar. "This is your first tour correct' Your uncle spoke highly of your skills, lord be praised how right he was." His hand lifted and rattled with harsh chain against thin plate once he came a hair's breath too close to the knight. "Worry not, god shall absolve all your-" His hand was quickly swatted away, leaving him in utter shock at the knight's behavior.
"Keep your sick holliness to yourself, Brother ~~~. I have no desire to be absolved for what I've done today. No god would absolve what we've done today." Complete and utter disgust, despise for the religion that called for such brutality and burning defiance riddled the harsh and furious scowl he burned into the templar's eye sockets.
"You cretin!" The templar could barely speak from the spit that left his stubbled lip under his helm, "You fall dangerously close to falling under the same wing of blasphemy as these infidels!"
The knight couldn't reign in the confident and mocking grin he formed, "What' Will you put me down then?" But he grew silent, the ever present whisper of a coming hate began to ring like a funeral chime deep down in his ear.
"Please, ~~~.....Use me..." It echoed over and over as his own mother's voice began to softly mumble in his ears. As his head turned only enough to cast slit and cruel eyes over his shoulder he took in the gold and sapphire hilt of a mighty weapon. A weapon that called to him night and day, a weapon that he wanted nothing to do, see or hear of.
It was then a hard metal clang drug a wandering mind from the depths of hell back into the world of the living. How long had he stood stupidly staring at the power generator as a turkey in the rain? With a shake of his head he grunted under his breath and began absently dragging the broom across the stone floor again fighting off memories of a past life.
It wasn't until the bold and robust scent of smoke of a slight malfunction filled his slowly darkening lungs that the corpse showed the smallest signs of life beyond the slow drag of a broom indefinitely across the floor. Shadows began to swell and choke the life from his hollow bones, rickety joints turned to gaze at what was once copper slowly becoming wooden beams and walls blackening by flame. Thick and course uniform gave way for gun metal grays and black plate weighing heavily on his shoulders and back. As swiftly as most sensual of day dreams, the darkest of lusts, he fell into an episode and was lost to the physical and mortal world.
The past began to play heavy and dark tricks on his weakened and lonely mind portraying to his wide and despair filled eyes a moment history had forgotten.
Flames encroached from most directions of the hollowed out and purged village, the dying screams of her residence long since extinguished much as the dark clouds above threatened to choke the life from the flames that flickered and spit at his every side. A darkened world of threatening mist and slowly smothered sunlight cast the glow that the scene playing before the bloody murders walking proudly along the stone streets craved.
Once rustic streets of hay roofed homes and faded brown mud stone now burned black and glowing orange forever altered by the foolish ignorance of a sworn 'righteous' King's decree. How would one react to this sight' The ever present picture of burned black husks thrown into flames, the smell of melting flesh and soil, blood as gritty and sense gouging as smelling salts waiving from each improvised funeral pyre all creating the back drop to the image of this complete annihilation of the innocent.
But to the pair of eyes that stared lidded and indifferent at the piles of corpses and destruction this, in all her glory, wasn't the most gut wrenching part of this travesty. By every pile of mutilation and slaughter, every hole some woman had been raped and lied to in now made a burial site, every misshapen form of lunacy twisted into being assured as what needed to be done....Was a religious swath cut into a piece of pristine white cloth. Religious indignation and righteous belief what was ordered was the word of god incarnate, the hand of god and all his wrath descended in the form of his all mighty soldiers of faith to wipe clean the foolish heretic and their blasphemous ways.
The knight in black armor's eyes went wide as he watched the group, nothing more than pompous bandits with a coat of arms, put hands to one another and proclaim their sins absolved and the culling of savages completed. Bile rushed up his throat, the burning his of hatred and disbelief smothered out by the harsh gurgle of gagging and rapid rush of refuge leaving his throat onto chard black soil. This was sureal in every sense of the word to the knight!
"Brother ~~~~, have you fallen ill?" The knights eyes grew razor sharp as they turned up with a vile defiance to the approaching templar. "This is your first tour correct' Your uncle spoke highly of your skills, lord be praised how right he was." His hand lifted and rattled with harsh chain against thin plate once he came a hair's breath too close to the knight. "Worry not, god shall absolve all your-" His hand was quickly swatted away, leaving him in utter shock at the knight's behavior.
"Keep your sick holliness to yourself, Brother ~~~. I have no desire to be absolved for what I've done today. No god would absolve what we've done today." Complete and utter disgust, despise for the religion that called for such brutality and burning defiance riddled the harsh and furious scowl he burned into the templar's eye sockets.
"You cretin!" The templar could barely speak from the spit that left his stubbled lip under his helm, "You fall dangerously close to falling under the same wing of blasphemy as these infidels!"
The knight couldn't reign in the confident and mocking grin he formed, "What' Will you put me down then?" But he grew silent, the ever present whisper of a coming hate began to ring like a funeral chime deep down in his ear.
"Please, ~~~.....Use me..." It echoed over and over as his own mother's voice began to softly mumble in his ears. As his head turned only enough to cast slit and cruel eyes over his shoulder he took in the gold and sapphire hilt of a mighty weapon. A weapon that called to him night and day, a weapon that he wanted nothing to do, see or hear of.
It was then a hard metal clang drug a wandering mind from the depths of hell back into the world of the living. How long had he stood stupidly staring at the power generator as a turkey in the rain? With a shake of his head he grunted under his breath and began absently dragging the broom across the stone floor again fighting off memories of a past life.