The sound of a hammer hitting a hot piece of metal, it was music to my ears, before I associated it with another event. My name was Suiro, my family ran a smithy in Burthorpe. For generations we handled everything from repair to production, to mass production. We also refused to pick a side in the everlasting conflict known as the Clan Wars.
Maybe I should start from the beginning, it was the year 1206 PC, when everything started for me. The gods were banished from our world, after fighting a decade of ferocious bloody war, but that was generations ago. The person who banished them also made it so they could never return, people call him the 'Saviour'. They say he fought all the gods at once, and still had enough power to completely sever the connection between the mortal and immortal realms. He vanished shortly after however, never to be seen again, eventually people started trying to take over what was left of Gielinor. Clans were formed for this purpose, once they had been in service of the lands, now they fought to control the lands, people started calling it the 'Clan Wars'.
As I said, my family didn't pick sides, but when the conflict came to our front door, things changed too quickly to stop.
I struck the hot piece of metal, it was going to be a sword, it rang out rhythmically, and I knew it was going to be a good one. The day was cold, but the forge made the inside of the smithy warm, I plunged the metal into a nearby bucket of water, steam rose. Life was as peaceful as you could get in these times, Burthorpe was far away from the front lines of the Clan Wars.
"The sound of a hammer hitting an anvil, oh that takes me back." Said a stranger as he entered my smithy.
"Can I help you?" I asked him, looking up from my work.
"My sword needs repairing, peasant." He replied, unsheathing his sword and throwing it down on my work bench.
"Perhaps if you treated it with more respect, it might not need to be repaired as often." I responded, putting down the sword I had been working on, and inspecting the one he had rudely placed on my workbench.
"It's a sword, it doesn't need respect, what it needs is a good smith, and the one who was travelling with me was killed outside your fair town this morning, a bloody waste of 300 gold." He replied, as he inspected his nails.
"It'll take about that much for me to even think about repairing your sword." I said, returning to my work.
"Bah, surely you must jest!" he said, looking surprised at my statement.
"I need to make a living, and times are harder here than they may have been in Misthalin, and I will charge you what I feel the job is worth, and here it will take a fair amount of work, increasing the price, you're better off buying a new sword." I answered, handing him the sword.
"Fine, I will take your best sword, at half price of course." He said throwing his old sword to the ground.
"You'll pay full price, or you won't get it at all!" I said, irritated with the man.
"Watch your tongue peasant, do you know who I am?" He said, reaching for the side of his cape.
"Frankly, I don't care, but if you're not paying, then get out of my smithy!" I yelled at him, pointing to the door.
"I am an officer of The King's Death, you'd be good to respect me. We took control of this region last evening!"
"I don't give a damn! Unless you willing to pay full price, then you can hit the road!" I yelled at him.
"You'll regret this." He muttered as he walked out.
I picked up the ruined sword that he had left lying on the ground, it wasn't in as bad shape as I had initially thought. No doubt it had seen its fair share of battle, but nothing that would require more than a good polishing, and elbow grease. Only the sword had received none of that, and the steel was rusting quickly, making it more and more brittle. It likely would've broken if used seriously in a fight, which immediately raised the question in my mind as to the role of the man who had just been inside my smithy. I placed the sword on a nearby rack, maybe it will be useful later , I thought to myself, as I returned to my work.
Three hours later a bell rang out through Burthorpe, signalling noon, I cooled the piece I'd been working on and wiped the sweat off my forehead with a dirty rag. I flung my cloak around myself, and walked out into the crisp day, the warmth of my forge making it seem ten degrees cooler. Burthorpe was on the western slope of White Wolf Mountain, a part of the Kingdom of Kandarin, and a border town to the Kingdom of Asgarnia. This time of year, when the temperature was cooler in the countryside, the cooler air from the top of White Wolf Mountain would drop, causing Burthorpe to be 5 degrees cooler on average than other regions in the same climate zone. I pulled my cloak tight, and breathed shakily in the cold, my teeth chattering, and my breath was very much visible.
I entered the main of town, and then a local pub I liked to frequent, inside was warm, and dreary, which was unusual, not the warmth, but the mood. A feeling of defeat seemed to hang in the air, I sat down at my usual table, off in the corner, out of view of most of the building. From my pack I pulled out a book and a pencil, opening the book, I took note of the work I'd done today, and how much money was going to come it from it. I scratched my forehead, things were not going to be even, I was fifty gold pieces from breaking even, but the tax was fifty percent, and it would cost twice what I had left after that to cover the next month's expenses. I ordered a pint of ale when the waitress came to take my order, scribbling notes on a new page, thinking about ways to cut costs.
A group of bronze armoured thugs entered the pub, banging the door hard on their way in. They were almost like a comedy group, with a small, medium and large member, everyone in the pub made eye contact with them. The large removed his helmet, revealing a rough unshaven face, his voice was deep and resonating;
"I'm looking for someone!" He yelled, resting his hand on his sword.
"Who abouts?" The bartender asked them, giving them a shaky smile.
"I'm looking for a blacksmith, my officer needs to have a word with one, about private business." He replied, looking around.
"You'd be looking for Suiro then, he's the best blacksmith in town, even few dwarves do better work than him." The bartender said, pointing to my corner.
"Are you Suiro?" The large one said, making his way to my table.
"I am, what can I help you with?" I asked them, closing my notebook.
"Major Strapp of the King's Death is looking for a blacksmith." The large one answered.
"And he asked for me?" I said, finishing the rest of my pint.
"No, He told us to go find a blacksmith, you appear to be the closest one." The man said, placing his hand on the table.
The thugs lead me out of the pub and through town toward the town centre, a battle had definitely taken place. Bodies still lay in the street, buildings smoked, every now and then a crater would become visible. Swords and various other weapons were stuck into the ground, torn cloaks were tied to them, fluttering in the breeze. The cloaks were black, bordered in a sickly shade of green, the heraldry bore a skull with a crown, some of the cloaks had a gold sash draped on top of them.
"Are you a member of the King's Death?" I asked them.
"I am." He replied, keeping his eyes forward.
"Is this just an excuse to kill me?" I asked him, remembering my earlier encounter with them.
"Not to my knowledge, I was told to bring a blacksmith to the castle."
"What for?"
"He didn't specify." the man replied, sounding irritated.
We walked for a ways, then we were stopped, by a single man in crimson armour, twin scimitars hanging from his belt. He wore a helmet that completely covered his face, chainmail, and heavy looking greaves, moving toward us, he seemed to be exuding an aura of intimidation. He drew his swords and in a swift motion cut down the two men behind me, from at least 4 metres away, levelling a scimitar at the third.
"I do hope I can let you live." the man said, his voice carried an accent I didn't recognize.
"Same to you." The large man replied, swiftly drawing a radiant blue longsword, "I have my orders, no upstart in red is going to stop me."
The large man lunged at the crimson clad figure, his sword moved at a blur, clashing with the red man's scimitars. from underneath his cloak, he drew another blue sword, shorter than the first, and brought around to the lower back of the crimson figures armour. The sword struck the chain mail, but failed to penetrate, which was unusual considering that chain mail wasn't designed to stop stabbing blows.
"I'll give you another chance to surrender." The man in crimson said.
"I lived in Misthalin, watched my king slaughtered by his subjects, my property razed, and my family killed, I haven't anything to lose." The large man replied.
"Then perhaps we need not be enemies." The man in crimson said, his body seemed to dissolve into smoke.
The sword that been held against the twin scimitars slashed down into the ground, embedding itself, he did not appear to be holding the short sword any more.
"Ory, I've come to wake you up." The man in crimson said, reaching out in front of him and pulling something out of thin air.
"What do you mean?" I asked him, "I'm already awake, and my name's not Ory!"
"Of course it's, you're still asleep." the man said.
The object that had appeared in his hand appeared to be a signet ring, the ring displayed a 4 pointed star. Grasping it using his forefinger and thumb, examining it. the slits of the mask moved toward me, he took a step forward, then stopped.
"Do you know what this is?" He asked, letting the ring into into the palm of his hand, it made a clinking sound on the red metal.
"It's a ring." I replied, too nervous to move.
"Well yes, I suppose that's the most immediate observation, but do you know it represents?" The crimson helmet melted into a red tinged smoke, and the man's face finally became visible.
"Who are you?" I asked, the man's face was young looking, but his eyes seemed to speak years.
"My name is Devaris." He answered, his eyes looking up from the ring.
his hair was black, highlighted with red, and his eyes were a fierce gold.
"Now, do you know what this ring represents?" He repeated, holding it up.
"I do not."
"This ring represents your awaking, it contains a fragment of the gods." The ring began levitating in the air. "This may hurt somewhat."
The ring flew into my right eye, and a searing pain overtook my eye socket, then it radiated into my skull, I screamed, and dropped to my knees. the pain continued to grow in intensity until I started seeing spots, the strength seemed to be draining from my body, I felt myself hit the ground. A few seconds later I completely lost consciousness.
I was standing on a high cliff, overlooking a battlefield, smoke rising from burning war machines, two massive figures clashed from opposing lines. Trying to reason what they were, I figured I was staring at the old gods, Saradomin, and Zamorak. The scene below them was gruesome, even from high on a cliff, rivers and lakes ran red, bodies lay everywhere. War cries, and clashing weapons could be heard for miles, I tried to look away, but my body wouldn't listen to me.
The scene continued for some time before I finally turned around. Behind me was a massive glowing orb, and a pillar of light, I raised my hands and channelled magical energies. The feeling was almost painful, draining, I felt the life flow into the giant glowing orb, then back into me, then back two fold into the orb. This continued for several minutes, before something finally happened, the orb shot into the sky, making it seem to break. Energy rippled through the heavens, the light seemed to drain from the world, and the fighting stopped, a booming cry could be heard over everything, it was the cry of Zamorak, the massive black and red figure. Suddenly light rained down on the landscape, digging deep trenches, and incinerating combatants, panic ensued, everyone just trying to save themselves, a boom like thunder cracked the ground.
Then suddenly was over, almost as as it had started, the sky returned to normal, and I turned around back to the scene below the cliff. The landscape was scarred, and the titan forms of the Gods were gone. I collapsed my right eye burning, my body weak, I tried to stand, but my muscles refused, I succeeded only in rising to a kneel. Then the right side of my vision went black, and a shot of pain went through my skull. I brought my hand up to my eye socket, something hard fell into my hand, breaking into pieces in my palm. the pain continued for a moment, blood was now pouring from my now empty eye socket.
the last of my strength seemed to leave me, just as my hand was about to drop someone caught it, I looked up, his face was familiar.
"Ory, are you all right?" he asked, fierce gold eyes staring at me.
"My... My eye is..." I send feebly.
"Yes, I can see that, I'll get it into a vessel immediately, maybe we can reconstruct it."
"No..." I managed, "It's over Doom, I'm done, but the world won't need me any more."
"God damn it Ory! You know that's not true!" He yelled at me.
"Not... Not for a while..." I said, my vision becoming blurry, "You'll... You'll know... Whe..."
I jolted awake, but I wasn't in Burthorpe, I was sitting in the room of what appeared to be an old mansion, but it was in ruins. I stood up, I was dressed in a simple green and white tunic, my beard was gone, and my hair was neatly cut. After examining myself in a mirror on the wall, I walked into the next room, it was a kitchen, an awful smell seemed to radiate from the pantry, I quickly walked into the next room.
The next room appeared to be the front foyer, it had a door that was hanging on a single hinge, the room opposite the door had a staircase in it, made of stone. I went up it, but the second floor had been destroyed, though oddly enough, there was a single alter, with a golden four-pointed star sitting on top of it, the same that had been on the ring. The room had no walls, and I could see the entirety of the property, there were two other buildings, one that looked like a guest house, and a small low lying building that looked like a chapel of some sort. Light streamed out of its windows, I felt like I could jump from the second floor to the ground, I shouldn't have been able, but I felt like I could, so I did. I landed light on my feet, like I didn't weigh anything, the door to the chapel flew open, seemingly beckoning me to enter.
I walked over and into the building, kneeling at the alter was a man wearing a green robe, not like the sickly green of the King's Death, it was a natural, comforting green, like fresh grass.
"Do you know who I am?" He asked in a voice that bore a resonating quality that seemed to shake my very being.
"N... no..." I managed, feeling like I was being crushed.
"My name is Oryxace, first bearer of the eye of Saradomin, Saviour of Gielinor, banisher of the Gods..." He said, standing to his full height.
He turned around, and lowered his hood in one swift motion.
"And your ancestor." He finished, the crushing presence vanished in an instant, "You can call me Oryx."
Baffled, I stood with my mouth opening and closing for a second before he said something else.
"You must be confused, and very much frightened, I imagine Doom took to the theatrics instead of actually explaining anything to you." The man said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Terribly sorry about that, he always liked to make an entrance."
"Where am I?" I asked him.
"You're in my old house, though it is more of a ruin now." He replied.
"I dreamed something… something awful…" I said, trying to wrap my mind around the images that had filled my mind just a short while ago.
"That was my memory, transposed into your conscience by the transfer." Oryx said, "What you saw was my last memory, the Seventh Battle of the Wilderness Volcano, and the Fifteenth battle of Mount Corbit."
"Which is it, the Seventh or the Fifteenth?" I asked on an impulse.
"Now that, is an interesting question, which requires a bit of history to understand, you see before the Wilderness existed, it was a country called Corbinith, however it was... Destroyed during an early war, I'd say probably about -80 PC." Oryx replied.
"What do you mean by 'negative eighty' PC?"
"Do you know what PC stands for?" Oryx asked.
"No one does, but it's the universal age that every kingdom in Gielinor has accepted as the current age, it's been used for centuries and no one knows why." I answered him.
"Really? I would've thought Doom would've kept up the historical knowledge on that particular concept." Oryx said, scratching his forehead, "It stands for 'Post Catastrophe'."
"You keep explaining things, but I only get more confused." I replied.
"Why don't we sit down, and discuss this like gentlemen." Oryx said, raising his hand and snapping his fingers.
The scene wrapped itself in smoke then I was sitting in the room that I had first woken up in, the chair however, was much more comfortable now. The mansion that had been a ruin just a few seconds ago was now perfectly repaired, and filled with a warm feeling, like an old relative's house. Oryx was now dressed in a blue robe, resembling what Mages wore on the battlefield, and was reading a book from off the shelf.
Examining myself, I was dressed in a similar robe, but it was black. Oryx turned as I stood up, closing the book that was in his hand. He made a purpose of walking over to the marble fireplace, which had a warm fire burning in it. He placed a hand on the mantelpiece and gazed at the wood plaque that was mounted just above it. The plaque bore the compass rose of Asgarnia.
"Do you know what this symbol is?" Oryx asked, turning his head towards me.
"It's the royal heraldry of Asgarnia, I lived in Burthorpe, of course I know what it is."
"It's actually the heraldry of The Reapers clan, I married into the Asgarnian Royal Family briefly and granted them use of my heraldic charge." He replied, smiling nostalgically, "But enough about that, I believe I was going to explain the meaning of 'Post Catastrophe' to you, it does have a lot to do with this heraldry."
"Then explain, no need to wait for me to ask." I said, coming off sarcastically.
Oryx didn't seem to notice, clearing his throat he began.
"The Reapers were an immense clan, and we competed for power in Gielinor in what you could describe as the first clan wars, as it was the first time that independent clans fought with one another on a large scale. War would never be same after it, and truly the world never was. The clan that we were fighting was the remnants of the nation of Corbinith, which was destroyed in the last war between kingdoms in Gielinor. They called themselves 'The Followers of Hell', though we more aptly called them 'The Zamorak Followers', as the two terms are synonymous. They wanted to destroy those who had fought against them in the war, and destroy those who believed in Saradomin, essentially they were waging a crusade.
"Well my clan would not stand for this, The Reapers marched against them from the very beginning. We failed to nip them in the bud, and they grew with every failed attempt to destroy them, I myself committed a small genocide against them. When they became powerful enough to actually challenge the order of things, The Reapers began to rally, open conflict began in about -14 PC. The first battle was the Battle of White Wolf Mountain, and the final battle was the Third Battle of the Wilderness Volcano, Eleventh Battle of Mount Corbit. When the battle seemed almost lost to us, I activated the eye of Saradomin in a way I hadn't before, which was to destroy the mountain itself.
"I succeeded, but the power didn't stop there, it destroyed half of Gielinor, and The Followers of Hell in the process."
"So the symbol represents destruction?" I said.
"Yes, somewhat, the circle represents Gielinor, the overlying silver four pointed star represents the clan of The Reapers, and the underlying gold four pointed star represents the destructive power I unleashed that day. All together the four pointed stars, which together form an eight pointed star, represent the destruction of Gielinor, and its rebirth, under the rule of The Reapers. We decided that it was a new age, and started calling it 'Post Catastrophe', due in part to the fact that it was after a cataclysm of epic proportions." Oryx stopped and stared at the wall, looking regretful, "It was our greatest triumph, evil was eliminated, good was all that remained, we could not fathom what would happen next."
"Interesting, but before you explain, let me take a guess, just to save time," I said, holding up my hand to stop him from saying anything else, "You had conquered Gielinor, and now without evil to face, and a world to rebuild, you weren't always able to do good, and so people started to see you as evil."
"In short yes, there were several rebellions, and eventually we decided to dissolve The Reapers, and form a smaller clan called The Archers." He replied, solemnly, regret filling his face.
After a moment I decided to ask him about the man in crimson.
"The man who sent me here was named Devaris, where does he fit into all this?"
"I don't know a man named Devaris, but let me guess; he had golden eyes and black hair." Oryx answered, a smile returning to his face, "Yes well, he's obviously changed his name, but he was the leader of The Reapers, under the name 'Doom', he vanished shortly after the Third Battle of the Wilderness Volcano, and thus I was forced to take over The Reapers, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if he had stayed."
"He vanished, but he did reappear obviously from the memory I saw." I said, piecing together an idea of history that was altogether new to me.
"Yes he reappeared about 4 years after the formation of The Archers, but he refused to take control again, saying I was now responsible for it, we continued to fight alongside one another for centuries."
"And then you banished the gods together, and you died, and he went searching for your descendent's." I said, standing and walking around the room, "Then he found me, and shot a ring into my eye."
"I suppose that is accurate." Oryx replied.
"And now, you're going to take me over, and forcibly end the clan wars." I stated, turning to face him, "I warn you though, I'm not going to go easily."
"Doom may have thought that was the case, however it is not." Oryx answered, his aura becoming ever so slightly threatening, "I have no intention of returning to Gielinor, my time passed 500 years ago, and though Doom may have hoped that one day I would return, it would not be right for me to. I had intended for the problems to occur and sort themselves out naturally, like they did before The Reapers, or The Archers, or any of this, our influence ultimately created more problems than it ever solved. But, you have been infused with a fragment of the Eye of Saradomin, an immortal essence, thus you can't be a regular person anymore."
"What if I don't want it?" I asked Oryx.
"You haven't a choice in the matter anymore, your soul is linked to the immortal fragment of the Eye." Oryx replied, "But you shan't be immortal, it is a fragment, but it was bound to my soul first, which means I am immortal, and since it was never removed from my soul, I continue to exist as an immortal entity. Because of this, I can control whether or not you can receive any benefit from the Eye's original power, and my soul will take up a part of your body."
"Will you be able to control me?"
"If I choose to, but I won't, I'll keep it to knocking you out and talking you down." Oryx looked up for a second, "I think you should wake up now, please tell Doom about my decision, and apologize to him for me."
Oryx snapped his fingers and I woke up. Staring at me was Devaris, and leaning against a post was the man from the King's Death who was to take me to see the officer in charge of Burthorpe. I sat up and looked at Devaris.
"How old are you?" I asked him.
"A good estimate is somewhere over 1500 years, but then, you already knew that." He answered, "Ory, we have a lot of catching up to do, quite a bit has changed."
"First of all, my name is not 'Oryxace', it's Suiro." I told him, "Secondly what the hell do you want with me?"
Devaris seemed to sit for a second shocked, disbelief evident on his face.
"How did you overpower him?" He asked, his face stern, and unfeeling.
"I didn't, he never wanted to return, he told me to apologize for not telling you." I replied.
"But his last words were - "
"You'll know when." I said, cutting him off.
"Yes!" Devaris nearly screamed at me, "He indicated that he would be needed again in the future!"
"I think he wanted you to sort it out, he said that his time in this world was over."
Devaris closed his eyes, a single tear emerged at the corner of his eye. After a moment he took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. He pulled an amulet out of thin air, and placed it on the stretcher I was sitting on.
"I think I understand what he means now, this amulet belonged to him when he was a Reaper, I think you should have it." He said, standing up and stretching.
"That's not the end of it is it?" The man who had been leaning against the post said.
"What you mean?" Devaris asked him.
"Right now a lot of people think the clan wars are going to end soon, because their is only really two major sides fighting now - "
"The King's Death, and Valhallius." I said, cutting him off.
"One's gonna win, and the other is going to be destroyed, if this eye of yours is so powerful, you could probably decide the fate of Gielinor." The man said.
"Well I'm not going to, my family has been neutral in this conflict for almost three centuries now, I'm not going to do any different." I replied, "Besides, you're a member of The King's Death, shouldn't you just kill me now so I won't be a threat?"
"I could, but I'm not your enemy in all this." He said.
"Hans, has offered to help us, and I have a feeling that it will be invaluable in the near future." Devaris said gesturing to the man leaning against the post.
"But first I need to take you to my officer, he'll have my hide if I don't bring him a blacksmith soon." Hans said.
"I understand completely." I replied.
The walk to Castle Burthorpe from the infirmary that had been set up to accommodate casualties from the battle was short, and soon the castle loomed over us. The stone work had been damaged by The King's Death's war machines, the top of the castle was crumbling, but repairs were already underway. The main door had been smashed in by a battering ram, which was still sitting in front of the door.
The castle itself was ancient, with records showing a fortress built there as early as 0 PC, though with the information that Oryxace, had given me, I suspected it was far older.
He led down and into a which had a table set up in it, a map covered it with various objects here and there obviously representing armies. A single man walked around the table, he was dressed in a suit of gold-trimmed black armour, and wore the cape of The King's Death, the heraldry outlined in gold. He didn't seem to notice us enter.
"Majour Strapp, I've brought you a blacksmith as requested." Hans announced after a long moment of silence.
"Very good, you may leave." The man replied.
"Yes sir." Hans said, making a short gesture that was most likely a salute before turning and swiftly leaving the room.
The man at the table continued to pace, staring at the map, and every now and then scribbling some notes into a notebook. He had a very lean figure, and his hair was black, long and tied back in a low ponytail. He stopped pacing in front of me, turned and grabbed my face.
"Your name is Suiro, son of Destos and Sakura, you are a blacksmith by trade, but you and I both know you are much, much more than that." The man said, his voice carried a thick Kandarin, laced with malice, his eyes were a cold yellow.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about." I replied.
"It is harder to get away from a bloodline than you would think." The man said, releasing my face, and walking over to the table, "Do you know what this represents?"
"I seem to be getting that question a lot recently." I replied.
"It represents the destruction of the old ways, and the birth of a new age." The officer said, his voice giddy with excitement, "The King's Death is close to completely eliminating all monarchies, the Asgarnian royal family will be executed tomorrow, and then we move onto Kandarin."
"They don't even have any power anymore!" I yelled, feeling outraged at the man's statement.
"Yes, yes, I'm aware of that they seceded power to Valhallius, but they are still a symbol!" The man replied at an equal volume, "And symbols, must be eliminated."
"What do I have to do with all this?" I asked him, crossing my arms across my chest.
"I've killed 4 different blacksmiths today, all because they were not you." He answered, straightening himself, "I didn't realize there were so many blacksmiths in this pitiful excuse for a town."
"Still doesn't answer my question."
"I want you to join us."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then perhaps you should check on your smithy." The man replied coldly.
"What for?" I asked him, "The forge is contained, and I haven't lit any lanterns today."
"Perhaps you misunderstand... I've had it destroyed, to make room for a larger smithy to be built."
For a moment I felt my rage peak, then I felt a crushing feeling of loss, I ran out of the room, then the castle and down the street. I felt tears in my eyes, not of sorrow, but of anger, I was angry at The King's Death, for ruining my peaceful little town. I rounded the bend and saw a massive inferno raging, right where my smithy had been, I stopped dead in my tracks, and stared.
A man walked up behind me, then put his arm on my shoulder.
"You should have just fixed my damned sword, then maybe this wouldn't have happened." The man said, cackling.
I stared at the burning building, then it collapsed, embers shot into the sky, tears poured from my eyes. I watched helplessly for hours as the fire burned, then it died down to hot ashes, my life was gone, everything I had ever owned, all my family's heirlooms and memories, were gone. The moon rose and cast a cold light on the ruin, my tears had ended a long while ago, now what remained was a sense of defeat.
"Alright, time to go, get up on your feet." Said the man from earlier, "You've got places to be, people to meet."
"No..." I said feebly, my voice felt like it wasn't there.
"It's not your choice anymore." He replied, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me to my feet.
At that moment I noticed something, the hilt of a burnt sword in the rumble, my anger exploded. I ran for it, wrenching my arm free from his grasp, I dove into the charred rubble and grabbed it. It was still hot, a scream ripped itself from my throat, and I ran at the man who had taken my peace, drive the sword into his neck, with a jump and a thrust, I beheaded him.
I landed on my feet, the bloodied sword in my hand, the man's head rolled out of in front of me, his body made a thump as it hit the ground. Around me were 4 men in green and black robes, their faces hidden, and their arms raised, runes seemed to dancing around me in a dome. I felt angry, angrier than I had ever been, but not at The King's Death any longer, I was angry at the people who proliferated this bloody war. I let another scream rip from my throat, it was as though someone had their hand in my head, and that only made me more angry. I lunged at one of the robe figures, my sword broke against a barrier of some sort, unseen, I threw it down and began punching the air, striking their invisible barrier.
My hands were bloody, but my vision was red, and their robes were making me angry, I continued to attack the barrier, my hands growing ever more bloody.
"I haven't seen such glorious bloodlust since the battle of Rimmington!" Said the voice of the man from the castle, "Is it almost done, is he ready to be unleashed?"
"YOOOUOUUUUUU!" I screamed, lunging where his voice was coming from, pain shooting up my arm, I snarled like a beast and tried to bite him.
"My, my, aren't you the little beast, hard to believe you were civilized only just a short while ago." He said, laughing.
"Wh… why…" I managed, subduing my fury for an instant.
"Because we need you on our side..." He said, spreading our his arms, "Welcome to The King's Death!" He said as I blacked out.