Post by faithless on Feb 26, 2007 21:18:47 GMT -5
Antvail climbed the last of the shadowed steps that laid before him, giving way to a large, dome roofed circular room. the room was lit by nothing more then a large fire in the center, sending odd shadows dancing between the columns that hid sections of the surrounding walls. But the fire as a whole was obscured from Antvials eyes. Standing between him and the blaze, was the greatest darkness that ever did exist. The man that brought entire armies to their knees. A creature wrought solely of evil. A demon that wanted nothing more then to end existence. The beast slowly turned form where it peered into the flames it wished encompassed the world.
" What hope could you possibly have in defeating me. I am greater then you. Greater even, then the pathetic God you so blindly follow. Yes. I will admit that I was once like you. Scared. Weak. Deaf to any word but those from 'God'. But then a new voice came... It told me of freedom... it told me of power... but most appealing.. it told me of the Truth. An understanding That makes me so much stronger. So much smarter. So much more deserving of putting pathetic, weak, stupid children like you out of their misery."
The mans voice echoed dully on the walls and ceiling, ignored by Antvail. This man knew nothing. He was lost in his own delusions of power, driven mad by the very thing he though his strength. Antvail untied his cloak, letting it slide off his shoulders, falling to the floor, revealing the red cross painted on an otherwise silver suit of plated mail. Antvail slowly drew the sword that had hung at his hip, the ring of metal on metal scratching at his ears.
"I shall not listen to the words of a heretic. With Faith as my shield, and the word of God as my weapon, I shall cleanse the world of your tainted existence."
The beast started to laugh, a low rumbling in his throat, quickly strangled to give way to harsh words.
"You, boy. Have much to learn. Let the first lesson be how weak of a shield 'Faith' can be."
He discarded his own cloak, drifting to the floor with the lightness of a feather, revealing a darkened replica of the exact suit that covered Antvail, only, the cross inverted. But aside form that, instead of a sword at his hip, a scythe with a blade at either end, facing opposite directions peaked over his shoulder, and swept low across the floor. He brought it from about his shoulder, holding it with a finesse that only came from years of mastery.
Antvial charged, plates clinking between each other and his boots thudding heavily against the floor. The tip of his sword hovering just above the floor before he made a strong upward slash, evaded by a quick jump backwards. Antvail stepped forward, swinging again from the side, but was parried by teh black staff section of the sycthe. it wasn't wood, else it'd of splintered.
Antvail stepped back, and charged again, swinging with all his strength from over head, the blade coming down and siding against the staff again, deflecting it at an odd angle that carried Antvails body forward. Atleast it would have, had not something pulled on his ankle moments later, sending him face first onto the stone floor. The heat from the fire just in front of him drew sweat from every pore on his face, and he was quick to scurry away from it and rise to his feet.
'You really are weak, boy. Give up now, and I shall abstain from the pleasures of killing you."
The man was answered when Antvail stubornly charged, yet again. with his body leaned over the blade of the sword pointed where the plates covering the body split into the legs, he lunged at him. But that, like the rest of his efforts, accounted to nothing. As the heretic had twirled the pole of his scythe, sending the blade off course, but not Antvail, which continued straight into the raised, armored, knee of the man. Antvail lost himself in the power of the blow, his sword leaving his hands, scittering across the ground, which he fell heavily into himself.
"You disgust me. You are no man, no boy. Not even a lowly cur. You do not deserve the life you breath. But thats of no matter now. It never was. I am going to purge this world of every. Miserable. Pathetic. Useless, thing like you."
Antvail ignored him, scrammbling to reclaim his sword, raising to his feet once more. and once more charging. though this time, he dropped low, swining the sword across the mans knees. But his knee's weren't there. before he could tell what happened, seomthing sharp snaked between the plates of his armor, and dug through the flesh and bone of his shoulder. Pain rang through Antvail, and he grunted, his throat locking, choking on a scream he knew he should not let out.
" What hope could you possibly have in defeating me. I am greater then you. Greater even, then the pathetic God you so blindly follow. Yes. I will admit that I was once like you. Scared. Weak. Deaf to any word but those from 'God'. But then a new voice came... It told me of freedom... it told me of power... but most appealing.. it told me of the Truth. An understanding That makes me so much stronger. So much smarter. So much more deserving of putting pathetic, weak, stupid children like you out of their misery."
The mans voice echoed dully on the walls and ceiling, ignored by Antvail. This man knew nothing. He was lost in his own delusions of power, driven mad by the very thing he though his strength. Antvail untied his cloak, letting it slide off his shoulders, falling to the floor, revealing the red cross painted on an otherwise silver suit of plated mail. Antvail slowly drew the sword that had hung at his hip, the ring of metal on metal scratching at his ears.
"I shall not listen to the words of a heretic. With Faith as my shield, and the word of God as my weapon, I shall cleanse the world of your tainted existence."
The beast started to laugh, a low rumbling in his throat, quickly strangled to give way to harsh words.
"You, boy. Have much to learn. Let the first lesson be how weak of a shield 'Faith' can be."
He discarded his own cloak, drifting to the floor with the lightness of a feather, revealing a darkened replica of the exact suit that covered Antvail, only, the cross inverted. But aside form that, instead of a sword at his hip, a scythe with a blade at either end, facing opposite directions peaked over his shoulder, and swept low across the floor. He brought it from about his shoulder, holding it with a finesse that only came from years of mastery.
Antvial charged, plates clinking between each other and his boots thudding heavily against the floor. The tip of his sword hovering just above the floor before he made a strong upward slash, evaded by a quick jump backwards. Antvail stepped forward, swinging again from the side, but was parried by teh black staff section of the sycthe. it wasn't wood, else it'd of splintered.
Antvail stepped back, and charged again, swinging with all his strength from over head, the blade coming down and siding against the staff again, deflecting it at an odd angle that carried Antvails body forward. Atleast it would have, had not something pulled on his ankle moments later, sending him face first onto the stone floor. The heat from the fire just in front of him drew sweat from every pore on his face, and he was quick to scurry away from it and rise to his feet.
'You really are weak, boy. Give up now, and I shall abstain from the pleasures of killing you."
The man was answered when Antvail stubornly charged, yet again. with his body leaned over the blade of the sword pointed where the plates covering the body split into the legs, he lunged at him. But that, like the rest of his efforts, accounted to nothing. As the heretic had twirled the pole of his scythe, sending the blade off course, but not Antvail, which continued straight into the raised, armored, knee of the man. Antvail lost himself in the power of the blow, his sword leaving his hands, scittering across the ground, which he fell heavily into himself.
"You disgust me. You are no man, no boy. Not even a lowly cur. You do not deserve the life you breath. But thats of no matter now. It never was. I am going to purge this world of every. Miserable. Pathetic. Useless, thing like you."
Antvail ignored him, scrammbling to reclaim his sword, raising to his feet once more. and once more charging. though this time, he dropped low, swining the sword across the mans knees. But his knee's weren't there. before he could tell what happened, seomthing sharp snaked between the plates of his armor, and dug through the flesh and bone of his shoulder. Pain rang through Antvail, and he grunted, his throat locking, choking on a scream he knew he should not let out.
