Firebrand felt the sky darken, a sudden ring of dark clouds blocking out the rays from the sun overhead. The fragrant aroma of cooking flesh only lingered for a moment before the wind kicked up, carrying the scent far away. Firebrand did not look up at the sudden weather. He could not take his eyes off this enemy. As the magma fell from the creature like water from a ducks back Firebrand felt his heart reignite, blazing like a blast furnace, as the icy grip on it pulled away. He opened his mouth, feeling hot air already spinning inside his throat. He'd finish this now!
Then his heart was doused. The wind died in his mouth as he felt something, a new feeling slithering up his spine and wrapping his senses. A subtle feeling, but one that grabbed him and pulled him away from the fight and back, back, back into the distant past.
He perched upon one of the highest of the barren crags of the Ghoul Realm and from his perch imagined that he ruled all that he surveyed. The black rivers. The dark and deadly forests. The distant towns with the crooked buildings, visible from here only as specs of light that dotted the landscape. It wasn't a beautiful place. It was a cruel and hostile land that would just as soon devour any naive fool that set foot in it. A land that was nonetheless fought over by any ghoul or ghost with even a hint of ambition, for uniting this land would allow a demon to grasp the true prize; the beautiful green world of men.
He'd saved this world from two such ambitious demons. He was the hero of all demonkind, and an inspiration to all gargoyles, and had been offered the human world by the high nobility should he wish it. Should he have the power to take it. It had been a honor when he heard, but that was before realizing what a joke it was. One demon alone could never control all the humans, as they well knew when they had offered it to him. You would need the full might of the Ghoul Realm to take the human world. Someone would need to break the stalemate the nobility had found itself in. It had been what the demons he'd stopped had been trying to do. If he were to rule this land he would need power even greater than they'ed had, that was for certain. Then, with the full might of all demons at his back, he could march out to take what he'd bee offered. The problem was finding that sort of power.
As if in answer to his prayers he felt a chill, and his eyes were drawn upwards. Six streams of light pierced the dark clouds that blocked all light from this land, streaking across the sky. Green. White. Blue. Purple. Orange. Red. The light vanished beyond the horizon, but the feeling did not dissipate. He felt himself lifting off the crag before he even understood what he was doing, and he flew off in pursuit of the falling lights. All around him he felt a tingle, as though the word itself had shuttered at the touch of some great and terrible god.
Something had changed.
The sharp cold touch of death dragged the Demon back to the hear and now. He felt agony spread up through his limbs, followed by a nothing that was even worse. He was a fool! He had only taken his focus off the battle for a moment. A amateurs mistake. He saw rather than felt himself collapse onto the ruined building, his wings failing him from the shock of it. He was cold, so very unbelievably cold. Cold. Cold, cold,
...cold.
He stood over the sprawled body of the strongest demon he had ever met, unlimited power burning in his veins. The creature had thought to ambush him on his way between the worlds, take the Crest for itself, but Firebrand had learned long ago to be wary of that trick. It had been a painful, humiliating lesson. One that he had killed many demons to avenge. He had done it, though. He had cleared this one last hurdle. He had burned the Ghoul Realm to the ground, the blood of thousands of demons stained his claws, all of his enemies lay dead, and he was one step from the human world. The power of the Crest was like a sun in his bosom. He needn't even bother conquering the Ghoul Realm now. With this power he could rule the human world by himself as a dark red god.
Why then was he so unbelievably cold?
Why could he not forget the faces of his enemies?
Why did the devastation he'd wrought upon his home play back to him on the back of his eyelids?
He felt the thrum of the thing in his chest, steady as a heartbeat, and found he took no pleasure in it. In fact, he despised it. In that moment he hated it more than anything. He felt a sharp pain and looked down to find his blood streaming between his fingers as the dug into the flesh of his chest. He wrapped his fingers around the Crest, almost stopped himself, then plunged forward. With a wet ripping sound he tore the Crest out, his blood flowing down his chest and dripping down off his toes into the infinite void between the worlds. He felt his form shift, diminish from the magnificence he had become, as power flowed from his very soul and back into the greedy stone. He looked over it, breathing deeply, then cast it away into void. The stone tumbled over and over into the darkness before splitting into six beams of light. Green. White. Blue. Purple. Orange. Red. All were swallowed by the darkness.
His powers were gone. The fire in his heart was a mere matchhead compared to what it once was. He was still so very cold, but he felt a bit warmer than before.
The sound of a slithering serpent pulled him from his memory this time, and he looked up at the half burned snake charging at him. He shook his head, trying to shake off the memory as he rose to his feet. He'd heard tell of something like this. When a human was faced with certain death it is said that their life flashed in front of their eyes. The way time seemed to have slowed down as he surveyed the scene only served to confirm this.
The snake was charging forward, swords poised to end him. Any fire he launched would be hacked to pieces, the tornado wouldn't fair much better, and it would be ready with some trick to divert his lava. Behind it his unlucky subordinate was in no position to aide him, barely managing to avoid the barrage of arrows in the high wind. His armor felt heavy and cold on his skin. He wasn't even sure he could dodge the snakes attacks if he tried, but even if he did this curse felt like it was only moments from killing him. He didn't have time to be defensive.
Yes. Certain death was coming for him.
Yet he charged on anyway.
Firebrand watched, puzzled, as the man leaped clear over the heads of three zombies. One of Firebrands kinsmen flew towards him and he tossed his lance, burying it up to the hilt in the demons chest. The demon let out a choked scream and plummeted from the air, landing in a heap behind him as he sallied forth.
It was absolute madness. No human had ever invaded the Ghoul Realm before. It just didn't happen. Yet here he was, so far in, all for the sake of a woman. As he watched the man caught a scythe to the back, the weapon shearing away his armor and leaving him nearly naked. The poor ghoul caught a dagger in the face for his trouble, along with the three that had been coming up behind him. It wouldn't be long now. Without protection he couldn't possibly last. Humans were weak. Nauseatingly weak. Still, Firebrand felt a small flame light up in his black heart as he watched him dodge and weave his way through his comrades. He wanted him to make it. He wanted him to move on. He wanted this human to come to him.
Demons swarmed all around, and without his silver armor Firebrand could clearly see the knights eyes as he flung himself head long into the jaws of death.
Firebrands pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he raised himself up against the cold. That was right. He couldn't die here. This snake couldn't kill him. It didn't have the right. There was only one man the demon Firebrand could fall to, only one that he would feel satisfied with!
Firebrand steeled himself, pushing himself up to full height and letting out a demonic screech before gripping the roof with his feet and pushing himself forward against the numbing cold. He pounded across the roof toward the snake like a wild animal to meet the snake. When it swung he would tense up, reach out to catch its sword arms as they moved, then push forward. He was going to slam this snakes head with his own, and Firebrands head could shatter solid rock at the worst of times.
Then his heart was doused. The wind died in his mouth as he felt something, a new feeling slithering up his spine and wrapping his senses. A subtle feeling, but one that grabbed him and pulled him away from the fight and back, back, back into the distant past.
He perched upon one of the highest of the barren crags of the Ghoul Realm and from his perch imagined that he ruled all that he surveyed. The black rivers. The dark and deadly forests. The distant towns with the crooked buildings, visible from here only as specs of light that dotted the landscape. It wasn't a beautiful place. It was a cruel and hostile land that would just as soon devour any naive fool that set foot in it. A land that was nonetheless fought over by any ghoul or ghost with even a hint of ambition, for uniting this land would allow a demon to grasp the true prize; the beautiful green world of men.
He'd saved this world from two such ambitious demons. He was the hero of all demonkind, and an inspiration to all gargoyles, and had been offered the human world by the high nobility should he wish it. Should he have the power to take it. It had been a honor when he heard, but that was before realizing what a joke it was. One demon alone could never control all the humans, as they well knew when they had offered it to him. You would need the full might of the Ghoul Realm to take the human world. Someone would need to break the stalemate the nobility had found itself in. It had been what the demons he'd stopped had been trying to do. If he were to rule this land he would need power even greater than they'ed had, that was for certain. Then, with the full might of all demons at his back, he could march out to take what he'd bee offered. The problem was finding that sort of power.
As if in answer to his prayers he felt a chill, and his eyes were drawn upwards. Six streams of light pierced the dark clouds that blocked all light from this land, streaking across the sky. Green. White. Blue. Purple. Orange. Red. The light vanished beyond the horizon, but the feeling did not dissipate. He felt himself lifting off the crag before he even understood what he was doing, and he flew off in pursuit of the falling lights. All around him he felt a tingle, as though the word itself had shuttered at the touch of some great and terrible god.
Something had changed.
The sharp cold touch of death dragged the Demon back to the hear and now. He felt agony spread up through his limbs, followed by a nothing that was even worse. He was a fool! He had only taken his focus off the battle for a moment. A amateurs mistake. He saw rather than felt himself collapse onto the ruined building, his wings failing him from the shock of it. He was cold, so very unbelievably cold. Cold. Cold, cold,
...cold.
He stood over the sprawled body of the strongest demon he had ever met, unlimited power burning in his veins. The creature had thought to ambush him on his way between the worlds, take the Crest for itself, but Firebrand had learned long ago to be wary of that trick. It had been a painful, humiliating lesson. One that he had killed many demons to avenge. He had done it, though. He had cleared this one last hurdle. He had burned the Ghoul Realm to the ground, the blood of thousands of demons stained his claws, all of his enemies lay dead, and he was one step from the human world. The power of the Crest was like a sun in his bosom. He needn't even bother conquering the Ghoul Realm now. With this power he could rule the human world by himself as a dark red god.
Why then was he so unbelievably cold?
Why could he not forget the faces of his enemies?
Why did the devastation he'd wrought upon his home play back to him on the back of his eyelids?
He felt the thrum of the thing in his chest, steady as a heartbeat, and found he took no pleasure in it. In fact, he despised it. In that moment he hated it more than anything. He felt a sharp pain and looked down to find his blood streaming between his fingers as the dug into the flesh of his chest. He wrapped his fingers around the Crest, almost stopped himself, then plunged forward. With a wet ripping sound he tore the Crest out, his blood flowing down his chest and dripping down off his toes into the infinite void between the worlds. He felt his form shift, diminish from the magnificence he had become, as power flowed from his very soul and back into the greedy stone. He looked over it, breathing deeply, then cast it away into void. The stone tumbled over and over into the darkness before splitting into six beams of light. Green. White. Blue. Purple. Orange. Red. All were swallowed by the darkness.
His powers were gone. The fire in his heart was a mere matchhead compared to what it once was. He was still so very cold, but he felt a bit warmer than before.
The sound of a slithering serpent pulled him from his memory this time, and he looked up at the half burned snake charging at him. He shook his head, trying to shake off the memory as he rose to his feet. He'd heard tell of something like this. When a human was faced with certain death it is said that their life flashed in front of their eyes. The way time seemed to have slowed down as he surveyed the scene only served to confirm this.
The snake was charging forward, swords poised to end him. Any fire he launched would be hacked to pieces, the tornado wouldn't fair much better, and it would be ready with some trick to divert his lava. Behind it his unlucky subordinate was in no position to aide him, barely managing to avoid the barrage of arrows in the high wind. His armor felt heavy and cold on his skin. He wasn't even sure he could dodge the snakes attacks if he tried, but even if he did this curse felt like it was only moments from killing him. He didn't have time to be defensive.
Yes. Certain death was coming for him.
Yet he charged on anyway.
Firebrand watched, puzzled, as the man leaped clear over the heads of three zombies. One of Firebrands kinsmen flew towards him and he tossed his lance, burying it up to the hilt in the demons chest. The demon let out a choked scream and plummeted from the air, landing in a heap behind him as he sallied forth.
It was absolute madness. No human had ever invaded the Ghoul Realm before. It just didn't happen. Yet here he was, so far in, all for the sake of a woman. As he watched the man caught a scythe to the back, the weapon shearing away his armor and leaving him nearly naked. The poor ghoul caught a dagger in the face for his trouble, along with the three that had been coming up behind him. It wouldn't be long now. Without protection he couldn't possibly last. Humans were weak. Nauseatingly weak. Still, Firebrand felt a small flame light up in his black heart as he watched him dodge and weave his way through his comrades. He wanted him to make it. He wanted him to move on. He wanted this human to come to him.
Demons swarmed all around, and without his silver armor Firebrand could clearly see the knights eyes as he flung himself head long into the jaws of death.
Firebrands pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he raised himself up against the cold. That was right. He couldn't die here. This snake couldn't kill him. It didn't have the right. There was only one man the demon Firebrand could fall to, only one that he would feel satisfied with!
Firebrand steeled himself, pushing himself up to full height and letting out a demonic screech before gripping the roof with his feet and pushing himself forward against the numbing cold. He pounded across the roof toward the snake like a wild animal to meet the snake. When it swung he would tense up, reach out to catch its sword arms as they moved, then push forward. He was going to slam this snakes head with his own, and Firebrands head could shatter solid rock at the worst of times.