The great beast dropped its bottom jaw, mildewed flesh stretched taut as a tainted exhale raced from the long throat. Eyeless sockets followed the airy mass, tail dropping to the ground angrily as the blast missed. Scaled skin spread and lifted, wings spreading to pull the elder creature to the air, boned tail whipping around to knock its attacker to the ground, weapon flying askew. The airborne zombie dropped to its throne, a claw placed upon the chest top and wings folded serenely. The jaws stretched again, eyes long since rotted glowing red as the wretched blast was releasing, spinning and racing towards the scurrying enemy.
The man rose to his knees and rolled on the slime-slicked floor, breath coming harshly as the air passed over his back. The burnt flesh curled and bled, running in scarlet rivers down the torn skin. The stream fell from the man's side, dropping to shine near his hand in the torchlight. A blood encrusted eye gazed at the scarlet drop, a ruby left to remind him of treasures thrown away, of crimson strands drifting in the wind. He jumped to his feet with a roar, grabbing his lance and running towards the creature with his last strength.
The dragon whistled through chiseled canines, points sharp and decaying flesh stuck between. Wings rustled, sheets of torn skin flapping and shifting as the mighty creature stood. The man slid under the thrashing tail, let the vicious claws rake his shoulder, and propelled his lance forward.
The dragon cried out. Poisoned breath bubbled from the open jaws and torn holes in the creature's throat as the lance was pushed down his chest, at an angle from the base of the scaled neck. Scarcely able to draw breath, the man pressed the lance in further; an arm and leg around the dragon's shoulder while his bare foot forced the lance on, through the black mass that could only contain its essence. The lifeless sockets lit brilliantly, a diseased creature finally given rest.
Scaled skin fell to the floor as grains of sand, the bones drying to dust and shifting, causing the exhausted man to fall to the floor. His lungs heaved, his throat burned and eyes watered as the sand fell around his form and dust settled upon his face and lashes.
Cormag felt for his weapon, supporting himself against the worn metal. The base faltered, shaft splitting and head shattering. The blonde crashed to the floor, metal littered around his quivering form. Breath came in heaving gasps, blood dripping from irritated slashes, torn cuts, and the burnt flesh of his back. He wheezed as dust floated through his mouth, body curling inward on the pooled sand as hacking coughs shook his frame.
With a mangled hand Cormag grasped the tip of the shattered head, bringing the dulled tip to his chest and attempting to move his legs. The dragonspear had been a gift; he remembered, a gift from a few years ago, never meant for battle.
The floor shook and Cormag tensed, hand curling around the spear tip as the sand dissipated, falling into unseen cracks and revealing the hidden chest. The blonde crawled forward, one arm without feeling and feet bare and bloodied. He slashed at the worn lock, forcing the spear tip through its opening and twisting. The beaten hand shook and jarred the lock viciously, dropping as the metal broke and fell. Cormag leant against the chest, forcing the lid up and dropping a hand inside the box. He felt against the back, slowly shifting his hand forward. His shoulder shifted against the chest. The frame moved and an object rolled from the corner. Blue eyes flashed as the object came into view. He pushed himself from the chest with a snarl; he had no use for a colored rock, however valuable.
He felt along the wall, eyes blinking in irritation as blood flowed from his forehead. He rested his back against a jutting stone, ignoring the pain and staring at the broken metal resting in his palm. The point was still there. The metal slopped down in a diamond pattern, the four sides rising to meet in the tip. He held nine inches of the spear, the head having shattered near the shaft and keeping its shape. Cormag fit the metal against his belt, the point a comforting pain as he grew dizzy and eyelids trying to close.
He then screamed. Strong and pure, he yelled his frustration and misery to the empty chamber. He cursed the world and the kingdom, for both had lost his affection. The blonde howled his hate of his current strength, of his past weakness, of a man with long hair and yellow eyes. Words of apology and love were offered as poison danced visions in his mid, to his discarded mount, to his long dead brother, to a man with kind hands and scarlet eyes
Cormag had entered Lagdou Ruins with the single desire to challenge its might, and be overcome by it. He'd long since released his wyvern from their bond; forcing him to leave, attacking when he tried to stay. With determined steps Cormag had entered the cursed Ruins, using weapons as they fell from the defeated creatures. He had forced his way past the axe slinging cyclopes and felt the demon magic of floating mogalls. He'd expected to die. His wish was to die in a warrior's struggle, as his brother had, and to eventually join him.
Waves of blue and curtains of red confused his mind, his legs quivered from spasms, the fingers of his left hand clenched while the left burned. Cormag drifted, breath even and low, unconscious as the floor shook again and footsteps echoed in the chamber.
--
An armored man leant against the wall in confusion, flexing his hands and inhaling questioningly. His lungs held, as his fingers remained clenched. The man let the breath out. With an experimental step he edged forward. His legs were made of flesh of blood, he decided, as were his arms, and his fingers and toes. He rose calloused hands to feel the beard at his chin and to check his throat. With a great leap he jumped from the stone steps, armor creaking and axe swinging wildly from his side.
Dust flew from his boots as he landed upon the floor, hand upon hilt and eyes wary. The torches flickered, catching his seawater eyes through the slits of his helmet. The chamber seemed unoccupied, so he continued forward.
A groan rose from the floor as he stalked forward, causing the man to pause and grip his axe tightly. He removed his headdress, letting his shaggy blue hair fall in a mussed wave against his neck, and glanced down.
A young man was lying on the floor, chest rising slowly and blood drying on tanned features. The general crouched down, head swiveling to inspect their surroundings before looking back to the other. Blonde fringe forced shadows over the dirty face. A horizontal scar shined in the torchlight, brought to sharp relief but the splattering of blood beneath.
The mouth opened to issue another groan, and the general moved an armored boot off the fingers he'd stepped on. He removed a glove and pressed fingers against the blonde's throat, feeling the hesitant pulse and brushing aside flecks of dust. A shuffling caught his attention and he stood, pulling the youth over his shoulder and gripping his axe firmly in front of his body. He advanced forward and traveled down the steps, arm tight around the wheezing body and eyes alight as the shuffling continued in the new room.
--
The smell of grass and iron woke Cormag, the scent drifting about his conscious. He attempted to open his eyes, but the edges were encrusted with dried blood. He raised a hand, breath coming in gasps as pain shot from his shoulder and curled around his wrist. Cormag forced his arm up, scratching at the collection of blood and inching his eyes open.
The blonde flinched as a reverant fell to the ground near his front, attempting to roll away as an axe was imbedded in the monster's chest. His side came in contact with a shrieking wight. His eyes widened, body tensing and refusing his demand to move, to roll away as the hellion noticed and rose his sword. That was all right though, Cormag remembered, that was all right, he wondered and hoped. He let his eyes fall closed and his body relax as the sword whistled through the air.
Blue eyes snapped open as his leg was grasped and pulled, dragging him from the sword's reach. A large man stood over his body, face shadowed and armor shining, axe raised high over his frame. With a roar the edge tore through the monster's chest, before shattering upon impact. Cormag gazed at the man in confusion, struggling with his shoulder was grasped and he was pulled to his feet, leaning heavily against the armored man.
The man said something, but Cormag didn't understand as his vision spun and his knees buckled. He was sat against a wall as the other kneeled at his side. The blue haired general held a vial to thin lips, swallowing an amount before offering it to the blonde. Cormag shook his head, poisonous visions enveloping his senses.
The general sighed and forced the vial to his lips, other hand holding his head in place as he struggled. The liquid dripped down his throat, relaxing his muscles and calming his tremors despite his protests.
The man gripped his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, supporting the blonde against his frame as sore muscles continued to quiver and the blue eyes faltered sleepily.
--
Cormag opened his eyes with a yawn, rolling to his back and blinking at the weaving stream at his side. The water rolled and twisted, shining in the bright sunshine. Cormag sat up, noted that he lacked a shirt and pants. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened to yell as he was pushed into the stream.
He thrashed and rose to the surface, standing chest deep in the cold water. The blonde scanned the grassy bank as he folded his arm around his chest, shivering despite the sunshine. The same man stood on the ground, armor removed and blue hair wet, having already cleaned himself in the river. "It's a bit cold, son." Cormag ducked his head in the water, furiously scrubbing his scalp with his nails, and rose.
"W-who are you?" He asked, running his hands down his side to dislodge bits of dirt and dried blood.
"Later son," The man spoke, coming to the edge of the stream and offering a hand when Cormag waded towards the shore. "The fire's past these trees." Cormag was steered to a small clearing and sat before a cackling blaze. The man tossed a cloak over his shoulders and leant against a tree. "An odd place to pass out, were you in the Ruins by yourself?"
Cormag let the cloak pool around his waist and let his head fall into his hands. "What's it to you?" He heard the shifting of fabric as the man shrugged. "You rescued me," The blonde snapped, standing and pushing the cloak away. "Why?"
"Returning the favor, young warrior." Cormag balled his fists. He'd be so close. He'd felt it; he had felt his heart slowing and the poison in his body.
"What favor? You owed nothing."
Cormag locked eyes with the other and took a step back as he stood, blue hair shining and presence so overwhelming. "By your eradication of the demons, I was released from a purgatory. I long to see my kingdom again, and I would ask your services in finding it." Cormag lowered his hands and knelt upon the ground when his legs grew tired.
"Your kingdom…"
The man nodded. "I am named Fado Octavos Renais, the sixth king of my father's land."
"Lord Fado," Cormag spoke quietly, staring at the long dead king and the unmistakable crest that was centered on his breastplate. "You held Renais as Grado came, you made Seth escape-" The noble came forward suddenly, startling Cormag as he grasped his sore shoulders in a bruising grip.
"You know Seth; my most loyal retainer?" Fado asked; grip tightening and face gaining color in his urgency. "What of my children? What of my kingdom?" Cormag's eyes grew wide as his frame shook; throat burning as he coughed and blood flying from his mouth. The king noticed the scarlet liquid and softened his grip. "Young warrior, you are still recovering from the poison within your veins." He pulled the cloak around the blonde's shoulders and pulled his hands from the bruised shoulders.
Cormag wiped the blood from his mouth. "I should not be recovering! I should not be here!" He snarled, breathing harshly and standing. "You should not be here! I accept your explanation only because I don't care, and because I know of no other reason for your existence." He coughed again, twisting away from the steadying hand. "I did not intend to leave that place."
"To fight," Fado began, brow arched questioningly. "You would stay there, to fight those creatures daily? Ah, I see, so as to assure yourself that the fiends would not progress to the neighboring villages." Cormag clenched his fingers, looking away from the blue haired noble and shivering in the heavy cloak.
"No," Cormag answered quietly. "I wouldn't of stayed there- it doesn't matter! I didn't mean to release you."
Fado nodded, placing a calloused hand on the blonde's shoulder again. "Be that as it may, I am unsure of my whereabouts, I wish to return to my kingdom and my people." He stated, standing in front of the other and locking green eyes with blue. "I ask you, a man not foreign to service, I believe, to help me home." He continued, smiling softly as tremors passed through the still exhausted youth. "Perhaps you will find yourself a home, as well."
--
Wow, five pages on one chapter. That's right! I'm trying the 'chapter-story' thing again, but guess what!
I know what I'm gonna do with this one! Haha!