Golden rows of spear points dipped into the gold-crested sky as the
troops proceeded from battle, strong and willful to success, yet scarred
and defeated only by the loss of those lost themselves in battle. Yet,
victory had become physical unto the Legion, nothing more than the
outward grasp of a weapon, and into their palms victory slid, a lubricant
that pushed the troops onward into battle for yet another priceless
defeat-a victory that came simple and unnoticed. "Perhaps this is nothing
more than fate meant it to be, Kazzeh. No explanation needed to that, and
no need to argue of it" Zephran sheathed his claymore, and looked
onward into the setting sun, blurred from uprising desert sand, waiting
moments for Kazzeh's reply. "Perhaps not. Perhaps so. It is to this we must
not trust- for it one day could mean our defeat. No Zepheran. We can't
go on this way, even in perfection. One day, we will not be prepared,
one day…" Kazzeh stopped, pausing to brush off the sand that had !
crested onto her canteen, and looked away with a sigh in disturbance.
The day was going to come when defeat would be in their midst, and
march into battle as unprepared as they were-without decent arms and
over-expectancy, only to fall. Yet, as Kazzeh knew and Zephran denied, it was
only a matter of time…
By the blaze of the fire, a single cavern lay lit under the stars of
night, occupied by two silhouettes lay, kneeling by the crackling hearth,
dark intentions laid to stir. "Sire, it is yet another painfully
mastered defeat we have encountered. Our troops have yet again met bitter
defeat in battle-" The messenger half-closed the scroll the held, and
tilted his head to the icy stone floor "accounted with the death of 250 of
our finest warriors after a search of the Legion's camp". Zarhim
cackled in anger, transitioning into a powerful roar, his enormous claw
smacking the messenger to the ground in fury. "Useless, I tell you, useless!
Heavens fall upon them, clouds and all! Crush them! Crush them in
defeat if you will! Or it shall be my duty to destroy them myself! Never!
Shame you Tiamut! Shame you eternity!" Zarhim snatched the fine Xeno
Almeo porcelain from his side, and tilted it so his eyes met his
reflection, and silently stared. Furiously, he stood and chucked it acros!
s the cave, hitting the wall with a shatter, as the broken remnants
lay scattered across the cave. The leaders gaze met that of the shaking
messenger, and sat down. "No good shall come of this. Especially of you.
Now GO!" Zarhim pointed a mighty finger at the exit of the cave, and
shook it, until the messenger packed his belongings and scurried out of
the cave franticly, only to find the tantrum of the leader had awoken
the whole camp from a restless sleep. The messenger slowly backed up, yet
as the warrior merdieans approached him, traumatized and frightened, he
fainted, cold and helpless to the icy ground.
"Order! Order!" Zephran shouted across the gaping extent of the dining hall across the roar of excitement of the Legionaires, yet silence came finally when his elbow knocked against his glass goblet, sending it flying across the oak table, and onto the floor with a sickening crack, that sent the dining hall into a surprised silence. As he resumed his seat in the tables center, he placed the palm of his hand onto his downward-looking face in utter embarrassment, and Kazzeh hid her own to hide her momentary laughter until she was quickly relieved of it, and cleared her throat. "Again, we have won. It is becoming more of a routine than a victory. But, how else would we want it?". She smiled gently, and lifted her goblet, Zephran pretending to hold his own. "Cheers!" her voice rang out, only to met by a joyful echo of "Cheers!".
The morning arose an unpleasant surprise for the followers of Zarhim
in the form of a bloody fistfight between two warriors. An uproar of
encouragement arose from the crowd that collected around the two, which
had swelled immensely within the last few minutes. "This is what you get
for being a traitor, you kniving, thieving traitor!" the taller, less
bloodied merdiean warrior scowled with all effort he could muster, as he
knocked his competitor in the abdomen, making him lean over in pain.
"You lie! You cheat, you loose-lipped fool!". With one last blow, the
opposing merdiean fell onto the ground, exhausted. "YES! YES! YYYEESSS!"
The winner raised his fist into the air and yelled with the last of his
reserve of energy, before nearly collapsing himself. At that moment,
the screaming crowds went silent, as Zarhim made his way through the
crowd on a throne held by his noble servants, and commanded them to lower
him to the ground. 'Stop! What be this madness?!". He stepped forw!
ard into the ring, the crowds backing up and parting without command,
to face the astonished victor, who shied away. "What is the meaning of
all this?" he glared eye-to eye in fury, needless for words. "Why
I-I…."he took an exasperated breath and pointed at the body on the ground
"HE'S A TRAITOR!". The uproar arose once again with the united chorus of
"Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!", until hushed by Zarhim with a furious
"Stop at ONCE!". "The next warrior to aggravate me, will find themselves
trapped in the dungeon for 30 years!". "Now" he spoke, trying to
understand, "The messenger did nothing! It is not in your meaning to judge
this, but that of my own!". The victor dropped his jaw in disbelief and
began to click, turning and running toward the rings border, which
trapped him with a mass of angry hands. "Stop!" Zarhim yelled out, as the
confused merdiean turned. "Guards! Off with him! Off! Off!". When the
revengeful competitor was finally dragged away, Zarhim walked away, le!
aving the remaining crowd to thin out. Zarhim began his walk back to h
is cave, a voice came from off in the distance.
"'Fore as it came,
'Fore as it went,
Eternity gazes upon fate,
Dark as midnight's gruesome grasp
As you have suffered,
They shall understand,
Shalt eternity exalt you,
Unto history forth.
Yet to turn is to turn,
Unto the repercussion you shalt suffer"
Yet, as Zarhim looked, he saw nothing but the sifting snow below him.
It was then he realized. Through all that had came and went, victory was
theirs. In pride, he ran back to his cave, and ordered out all of his
troops for the last battle.
As Zephran and Kazzeh readied their troops for battle, their messenger
returned with peculiar news, that the followers of Zarhim were fully
armed and ready. "Again?" Zephran asked, surprised by the sudden
decision. The messenger nodded. As planned, the march went out under the same
golden sun that had guided them through the last battle-yet, fate was
garbled.
"So, Legion. We meet again.". Zarhim growled expectantly. "It seems so,
Zarhim. Wishing for luck anytime soon?" Kazzeh replied, determined not
to draw her blade on him, even as close as her left hand rested on the
smooth sheath, wanting control over their own actions. Zarhim cackled
"Oh, no. Not this time, you merciless fools!". He drew his blade
threateningly and began to circle. Kazzeh and Zephran drew theirs, as well and
stepped forward. "So, is this the way you would like to play it,
weaklings?" Zarhim jumped forward toward Zephran, who parried the enemy's
blade skillful. "Not quite" Zephran motioned. "Attack!" Zarhim commanded
his troops, who blasted as an invincible barrier toward the warriors of
the legion, who fought with all of their might.
Through the dust and ashes of what remained of the battle sight, Kazzeh
and Zephran stood tall among the battlefield, gazing out upon the
golden fields beyond. "And thus, we remain" Kazzeh spoke to Zephran
absentmindedly, only alerted when another voice joined. "Of this, I know not.
After all…" They turned so they were inches away from the sharp-toothed
smile of Zarhim, who was backed up with two of his warriors that still
remained. "Though many of my greatest warriors have died, you stand
defenseless with your tired troops". He unsheathed his sword, and the
battle commenced. However, as soon as the fight started, the prophetic
voice came once again:
"Fate cometh,
Fate goeth,
Eternal be but the barer,
The curse commanded unto eternity,
'Fore what 'tis,
'Fore what 'twas,
"Fore whatever mayest be,
May eternity rise,
Eternity prevail"
Out form the shadows walked a female elf, bow and arrow in hand, as she
gazed around. Her complexion was beyond godly, her crystal white
braided hair swiftly flowing from behind her figure.
"Peace shall lay its place here,
False convictions shalt be but a memory,
So curse you enemy as of not,
As under the eyes of eternity,
It was never meant to be"
She gingerly grasped an arrow from her golden quiver, and released it in one swift motion, into the field beyond. As soon as the figure had come, she faded into the serene landscape beyond. Wordless, Zarhim turned away with the remainder his troops. And yet, the arrow in the field remained, a symbol for all Legionaires of honesty and remembrance of the past-morals never to be broken.
