Disclaimer: Again, I do not own Transformers or Hasbro; any names or places you recognize belong to them. This story is based off the role-playing adventures of the following blogs on Tumblr:
-wily-red-galeforce-gold
-speakeasysniper
-pokerfacedpraxian
-primuswhyme
-one-shall-stand
-driftsetadrift
-paranoidsd
-daecus
-brilliantbombtech
-bluespitfire
-askbeachcomber and
-smoothgetaway
I am also adding a new roleplayer to the list, betterthanmegatron, because her blog is totally worth checking out (even if she wasn't involved in the Medieval roleplay).
The story and its concepts are their creations, not mine, and I write this with their permission. If you want to take a look at the original posts, go take a look at their blogs! I recommend it.
And now...welcome to the Medieval Madness.
CHAPTER TWO:
THE DARK LANDS
"But the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly the days turned sour and the watchful nights closed in. Thrór's love of gold had grown too fierce and sickness had begun to grow within him. It was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow..." –the Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
-Several orns before the start of the Tournament-
The beginning of the end had come slowly for them.
Now, in hindsight, the villagers could see the early warnings of tragedy and desolation that had led to their fate. The animals fleeing, the strange wind blowing from the ruined village, the failure of the crops…but no one knew then. Few understood what festered in the old village to the west, and those who did didn't wish to speak of old demons and mistakes of the past. To speak of a demon was to give that demon power, and no one wished to give it strength.
A blind optic was turned on the haunted town while the villagers tried to find ways to survive the failure of the crops for a third time in a row. The tradesmechs that came through the rural town weren't enough to get them through till the next harvest…if that next harvest ever came.
It broke the village elder's spark to see the under-nourished frames of the younglings and sparklings of the town and the haunted looks of their creators as they tried to find energon for them. He and his bonded did what they could, giving out what energon they had and helping those with whatever they could do. Along with the poor harvests, a bout of powerful magnetic winds and acid rain had destroyed much of the town's infrastructure and left the homes open and vulnerable to the elements.
A perpetual mist began to rise up out of the ruined village, one that crawled out of the village with grasping tendrils towards the new village as if to pull it into its grasp. Passing tradesmechs began to speak about shadows that danced in the mists and a perpetual haunting wail that could be heard.
"Something dark lurks there," One mech said late one night in the local tavern. Along with his comrades were villagers who had joined to listen to the stories and gossip. "Terrible shadows…we could see them in the mists, always watching us as we got closer to the town."
"Aye, it whispered terrible things to us. Promises of riches, healing the sick, power beyond your wildest imagination." A femme confided, her voice low. She took a drink of her high-grade. She was just intoxicated enough to loosen her tongue. "It promised me the return of my son from the Well if I would just come closer."
"It promised me my own castle and servants if I would enter the town premise." Another tradesmech said. This statement was joined in by several murmurs and nods from his companions. They too had heard promises of wealth and power.
"Whatever lies in those ruins," the caravan leader said, his deep voice easily heard above the din of the tavern. "Is unnatural and cursed. Primus has no power in that forsaken place." He did not voice what temptations he had heard, the promise of his beloved sparkmate from the dead and her voice calling to him, and did not show how badly it had shaken him. "We will leave this place when morning comes."
These rumors traveled among the villagers like wildfire, heightening the already tense atmosphere of the town. It wasn't long before the oldest villagers came to the elder and his bonded to voice their own concerns, ones they dare not say in public and only in the safety of the elder's home.
"Downshift, we cannot ignore these rumors." One of the mechs said to the elder, his voice solemn, when they had all settled in. Murmurs of agreement echoed his statement.
"The village has been devoid of activity for hundreds of vorns. Why are strange things happening now?" A slender turquoise femme asked, her gravelly voice tight with concern and fear.
"The specters in the mist…do you think it is his servants? Do you think he still commands them?" A red mech next to the femme asked. A patch covered one of his optics, though a few scars peaked out from underneath it across his faceplates.
"But it cannot be him!" A femme protested before Downshift could speak. She wrung her tiny hands in nervousness, her voice shrill with fear. "He was killed! They put a sword through his spark! No one could survive that!" One of her friends leaned over to try and offer comfort to the minicon, whispering soothing words as she shook.
"High Wire speaks the truth. He was killed, or have we all forgotten?" A mech growled. His tall form could barely fit in the room and he glared at his companions as he spoke.
"But what else could haunt the old village, Grindor? There was no one who had greater power than him, and he knew it!" An older femme huffed, returning Grindor's glare. "Evil is not constrained by the normal laws of life. It is possible he survived by unnatural means." (High Wire shrilled loudly in fear.)
Several of the older villages spoke up, either in protest or agreement or voicing their own opinion, before one of them silenced them all to speak with a harsh shout. "How do we even know that this is true? Perhaps the caravan was simply telling stories to inspire fear!"
"Because I have seen it with my own optics," Downshift finally said, speaking for the first time. Dead silence accompanied his statement. "After these rumors reached my audios, I went to the village myself to see if this was true." He lowered his voice. "In the mists of our old home, shadows and specters dance and call for bots to enter. Even from the distance, I could hear their words and feel their call. I heard the voices of my family and the friends we lost calling to me. They wanted me to enter, to join them."
"Primus." one of the mechs whispered into the silence. His bonded reached for him, her optics wide with fear, and pressed her faceplates against him as if she could block the terrible news out.
"Downshift, you don't think it is him…?" The elder's bonded asked him. Her worn armor, now a dull red, creaked a little as she interlaced her fingers with his. "That he…I mean…is it possible that it's just a passing evil…?"
"No." He said. "I wish I could say that it isn't him, Oval…but in the deepest part of my spark, I know that is not true. The feelings I got when I approached the town…it was just like before. I believe he has returned."
No one spoke for a long moment as horror and dread worked through the sparks of all present. Memories of long ago, when most of the adults now had been sparklings, were beginning to come back. Memories of death, of destruction and chaos and one terrible battle that had destroyed everything they had held dear.
"…what will we do?" One mech finally asked, his voice small as he spoke into the silence. "What must we do to stop him? To prevent history from repeating itself?"
"We will not be able to stop him on our own." Downshift told them. "He will not so easily be banished from his realm. Great magical power will be required, power we do not have."
"Then what will we do?" Oval asked. "What can be done to rid the land of his presence?"
Downshift sighed. "I must go to the nobles and alert them of this problem. Their court magicians can aid us in banishing this shadow." He tightened his grip around her servo in a comforting gesture. "It is the only thing I can think of."
"If that is what must be done," she whispered. "If you must leave." Downshift did not say anything again, but pressed his love and emotions through their bond even as her despair and fear washed into his spark.
"I will go with you," one of the mechs said. The older femme who had spoken up earlier nodded in agreement. "It is not wise to go alone."
A few others agreed before the impromptu meeting was adjourned. The seven femmes and mechs going to the nobles left to prepare while the others went to either help or spread the news.
Going to the nobles to the south, however, proved fruitless. Their mages and seers saw no such shadow in the land, they told the villagers when they had come to them, and they were supremely confident in their people's magical abilities. When one of the mechs asked for them to come out and see the ruined village and its resident shade, they refused. They were too busy to bother with such things, though Downshift got the sense that the nobles did not want to believe that the shadows of the past were returning. They too had suffered his wrath, and they were not eager to accept his possible return.
They returned with heavy sparks, unsure of how to deliver the news to their friends and loved ones. But their bad news was met with even worse news.
While in their absence, some of the youth in the village had dared each other into entering the ruined village as entertainment. The town discovered their absence after a femme from the group had come running back, wailing and crying about how those who had wandered in had been attacked by the shadows and disappeared.
Others had gone to the ruins to try and find their younglings, but they never returned as well. Downshift finally announced that no one would set foot in the Ruined Village so that no more would vanish in their efforts to stop the strange shadow and warned all those who came through their town to do the same.
Most of the visitors laughed when he warned them away from the ruins. "A shadow?" they scoffed. "We have not been afraid of shadows since we were younglings!" They took his warnings to be the effect of a frenzied mind and decided to enjoy their high grade instead in the tavern.
His warnings were finally taken seriously when several younglings of a wandering dancing troupe had wandered into the town, taking the elder's warnings as a challenge like the youth of the town before them. By the time morning came, they had disappeared into the ruins and were never heard from again.
After the troupe left, no one else had come into the town save a few who absolutely had to. They never stayed long and would leave as quickly as possible.
And all the while, the shadow grew.
The worst was when the sickness and death began to run rampant. Already weak from the lack of food, sickness quickly began claiming lives until few remained behind, clinging to whatever existence they could find on the face of the land. The town healer was baffled by the ferocity and severity of the sicknesses and could do little to curb its effects or the pain.
Their pleas to the nobles continued to be ignored, politely so at first but then blatantly so. They were met with the same message as last time; the mages saw nothing and sensed no evil activity. They were too busy keeping rebellions and the possibly of a war between each other under control to come investigate a shadow from the past. The nearby towns were unable to offer aid or move them due to their own issues and a there was fear that the shadow might follow them if they aided the starving villagers.
Downshift and Oval tried to console those who suffered as much as possible. They did everything they could to try and heal the sickest among them and fed the starving younglings with whatever energon could be found. Sometimes, to lighten sparks, Downshift would tell stories of better times.
But in the darkness of the night, when it was just him and Oval in the quiet of their dwelling, despair would rush into his spark and he would worry endlessly for the fate of those under his care. He could feel it echoed through their bond, and they would cling to each other for support.
It was his fervent prayer to Primus, if He was listening, that someone would be able to help them. Before it was too late.
It had all happened so quickly.
It felt like the entire war had happened in the blink of an optic. One moment, he had been entertaining his king in a sword fighting tournament and laughing with the other swordsmechs, the next he was waking up in the rubble of his home city. He remembered…fire. A fire that had burned wild and viciously all around him, consuming and destroying with no mercy. Nothing he could do would stop the fire or save those caught in its grasp; it just kept going and going, fueled by an insatiable hunger.
He had contended with the enemy soldiers that had lit the blaze, fighting to reach his castle and king to keep him safe. Somewhere during the fighting, however, he must have been knocked out. Yes…a building had fallen on him. It had buried him completely. Perhaps that was the only reason he survived the soldiers and the burning blaze.
He dug for what felt like joors, trying to escape the dark cocoon of the building that had fallen on him. But finally, sunlight broke through and he pushed through to the surface, grateful to finally be free.
His gratitude vanished when his optics took in what was all around him.
No building remained standing save for charred foundations and ruined piles of what used to be homes. Grayed frames littered the ground, frames he had known and come to love. It was too much to take in and he could feel himself shaking violently and trying not to purge. This couldn't be real. This had to be a nightmare.
This couldn't have happened.
The worst was when he stumbled into the palace, searching for his king and his companions.
He found them, his king with a sword through his chassis on his throne and the fallen frames of his bodyguards and friends all around him. Drift had collapsed at the foot of the steps and wept, unable to handle the crashing realizations that were threatening to consume him.
He was alone.
He didn't know how long he had sat there, trying to deal with the death of everyone he knew and loved, or even what got him to get up and leave. He simply moved, one foot in front of the other, until he was far from his home and came to his senses.
He was a wanderer now, a swordsmech without a master, a mech without a king.
High grade helped take the edge off, and taverns quickly became a place of refuge and a way to get away from the pain. Directionless and purposeless, he simply drank the time away. But in the fading light of taverns along his wanderings, he had come across rumors of a powerful king in a land to the south of his own. Strong but fair and just, he aided those who needed it and was rumored to be the descendant of Prima himself. As he listened to the exploits of the king, an idea grew in his mind.
He would find this king and beg his service.
A new purpose now his spark, he followed the road down to the south of his kingdom and beyond the mountains, where he knew other kingdoms existed. It was very far from his home and the better part of the vorn was spent journeying towards this kingdom. He stopped frequently to aid those he could, protecting villages or offering service to struggling farmers. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do for them.
This time, when he had stopped to offer aid, he got the sense that he was way in over his head.
Drift hadn't known what to make of the tiny, miserable town when he had passed through it on his journey. He had been shocked to see the frighteningly thin and weak frames of the villagers and the beaten, weathered look of the town when he came in. This place looked like it was barely clinging to existence on the face of the land. A malevolent feeling clung to the town, heightening his senses and prompting him to keep his swords close. The fearful glances and poisonous glares sent his way hadn't helped much either when he tried to ask if they needed help.
Something evil dwelt here.
But when he came across this struggling town with a merchant troupe, he knew he couldn't resist helping them. Not when so many were in such a destitute situation. It reminded him too much of his own origins, and he understood firsthand what the aid of another could do to lift sparks.
"Oh!" Drift's head snapped up, razor-sharp optics immediately spotting the source of the noise. A passing femme, too weak to keep walking judging from her frame, had fallen in the streets, spilling a few small, precious energon cubes into the street.
"Ma'am? Are you alright?" He called. Behind her were two children that clung to her like shadows, watching him cautiously as he approached. "Ma'am?"
"No! No, get away!" She cried, swinging an arm at him to keep him back. The other gathered the cubes back to her. Though her tone was biting and angry, her optics were fearful and her posture protective of her brood. "Leave us alone!"
"Ma'am, please, do you need-?" Drift tried to ask, but she yelled a final "Go away!" before she grabbed one of the children with her free arm and disappeared down one of the alleys nearby. He stood still for a moment, trying to process what happened, before he shook himself out of it and ignored the wary looks that followed him.
Well, that was…odd.
"Don't be angry them," a voice called out to him. Drift straightened in surprise and saw the speaker standing near the local tavern, the Lost Light. It was an older mech, quite old if his graying armor and walking cane was any indication of his age. "They are afraid, and fear can cause people to do terrible things."
"Will she be okay?" Drift asked, glancing in the direction of the femme. The older mech's optics were sunken and hollow, like the optics of the femme and youth he had just seen. He had seen that look before, the look of desolation and hopelessness. Once upon a time, that look had been in his optics.
The mech sighed. "I wish I could assure you she would be, but none of us will be okay." He eyed Drift, taking in the bright white and red coloring of his armor and the powerful swords strapped to his frame. "Why are you here, stranger? What brings you to such a forlorn place?"
"The troupe I was traveling with has stopped here to rest. I met them along the roads and came with them." He told the elder. "I have been wandering in search of a king since the…since the destruction of my home." He fought to keep his tone from wavering.
The elder's optics softened. "The loss of one's home…it is a terrible burden to endure." He said softly. "I have known it's loss and it is not a fate I wish upon anyone. Have you no kin or friends with you?"
Drift shook his head. "None. They all perished." He all but whispered. "I am alone."
And what a terrible existence it was.
"Where was your home?"
Drift glanced at the elder, surprised at the question. The mech gazed at the swordsmech with unwavering and sympathetic optics. "It…it was far to the north of here." He managed to say. "Beyond the Manganese Mountains and the Sea of Light."
The elder smiled. "I cannot say I have been that far north, but I have been to the Mountains once or twice when I was young. Mostly to go dragon hunting. But I didn't know there was a kingdom beyond the Sea of Light."
Drift faintly returned the smile. On his way here, he had had the misfortune to come across one of the more violent dragon breeds, the Horned Northern Cyclonus, and had earned a few scratches from the scuffle. To be fair though, he had tread nearer to its nest than it wanted and he should have. "Not many do, apparently. This seems to be the farthest edge of this kingdom."
The smile disappeared from the mech's faceplates. "Yes, we are on the very edge of the Thirteen Kingdoms." He said. "Often, we are so far away that few can aid us when disaster befalls us. Like now."
"What kind of disaster?" Drift inquired. "What has befallen this place? War? Plague?"
The elder let out a harsh laugh, devoid of mirth. "Nothing so simple, wanderer. Something evil haunts this place, a shadow from the past that seeps our life away."
Drift blinked, taken back. "A shade haunts this land?" He asked. The perpetual feeling of evil and oppression now made sense. If something wicked haunted the land…
The mech nodded solemnly. "Yes. Do you believe in shades and specters, wanderer?"
"I know of their reality. I have seen many great evils in my wanderings, not all of them from this realm." He answered. "I am not a magic user, but I am sensitive and have fought magical evils before." This was true; the magicians of his former court had taught him to hone his senses so he could not be caught unaware by things he could not see. His Great Sword had been endowed with great mystical powers and he had a series of magical protections laid over him for his defense, though now that their creator was dead, they were slowly weakening.
The mech raised his optic ridges, impressed to hear this strange mech had fought magical evils. "Truly? Feats like that are rare to hear about."
Drift shook his head. "It was nothing great, I assure you. I had the aid of my companions and our magicians in defeating such evils."
The elder did not say anything for some time, intently studying the white and red mech before him. "Do you wish to know how this shadow came to be?"
Drift looked at him in surprise but nodded.
"Then come. Let me tell you the sad tale of what became of our home."
"What's happening here began several vorns ago, before most of the young adults of today were born and in these very lands itself." The elder, who had told him his name was Downshift, said. The two mechs were settling into the downstairs of Downshift's home, away from the listening audios of others. "The North has always kept to itself, separate from the southern lands. The nobles here are very proud of this, but a few do socialize with the southern royalty, like Lord Mirage. So when the evil that now festers here began to grow, no one knew what it could become and didn't bother to seek aid. It wasn't until it was too late that they called for help." He paused, looking away from the window to meet Drift's optics. "You know what a Lich King is, yes?"
Drift frowned thoughtfully. The name sounded familiar… "My people know them as Shade Kings or Witch Lords, but they are undead kings in search of great power, are they not?"
He nodded. "Yes. They are known by many names, but are the same. Power-hungry magical rulers who corrupt their own sparks with darkness in order to become immortal. They are very dangerous, but thankfully, few in number. It is difficult to become such an evil."
"Is that what befell this land?" Drift asked in surprise. He would not have guessed such a terrible evil resided here. A warlock at most, perhaps, but.. "A Lich King?"
"Yes." That one word was spoken with great exhaustion, and Drift saw the faraway look in Downshift's optics. "The Lich King rose to power here, in that old village, and summoned great and terrible evils into the world by taking the sparks of those who were his friends and companions to give them form."
Drift's optics widened. Murdering his townsfolk and companions…the thought made him sick, especially after the loss of everyone he knew. How could he have done such a thing? "And that old village…it was your home?"
Downshift nodded. "It was, when I was a youth. I was there when he became the Lich King, and I with the elders fled the village to the nobles just in time." He touched his chassis and Drift spotted old, silvery scars across its surface. They looked suspiciously like…claw marks, as if someone had been trying to rip his chassis open. "But we couldn't escape him… With his army of the undead and living, he conquered the old nobility of this land and became a lord. But it was not good enough for him; soon, his unstoppable armies moved against the Kingdom of Rodion near here. He slaughtered the King and Queen and seized the throne, becoming a king. It was only sheer luck that prevented their heir, Rodimus, from befalling the same fate."
The sick feeling grew in Drift's tanks. The death of their rulers…the Lich King truly had to have been powerful to attempt and pull off such a feat. Memories of his own king, murdered on his throne, danced through his processor.
"It was then that the severity of what happened became apparent." Downshift continued, his voice hollow. "The other kingdoms began to mount a defense against Rodion and to stop the Lich King. I…" He shook his head in confusion. "We are not sure of all of the details, even now. For the better part of a vorn and a half, Rodion was unassailable, even against the Council of Mages and all of their power. So many died…soldiers, innocents, even the royalty that fought against him. But…something…somewhere finally gave. The southern armies were able to get into Rodion and force the Lich King off of the throne. He fled back to his old home, where his power was strongest, and made his last stand there.
"One of the monarchs that had been fighting against him pursued him relentlessly, and reached him not long after he got to the old village. A terrible battle ensued, a battle with the likes I've never seen before… but the Lich King was finally defeated." He sighed heavily. "Though it was at great cost. The queen who fought against him succumbed to her wounds not long after the battle's end. The village grounds were tainted and we were unable to return home, so we settled a new town nearby to raise our youth."
"And what became of the Lich King?"
"We believed that his scourge had been removed from the world, but we were wrong. His spark was somehow tethered to this world and he became the shade that haunts the old village." Downshift sighed.
"And he is what is causing all of…this." Drift murmured, mostly to himself. "Why do you not flee? You would surely die if you stayed here."
"Where would we go, wanderer?" Downshift asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We have asked for aid, but none will give it. The nobles do not wish to acknowledge the Lich King's return and refuse to recognize our plights. Those nearby are afraid and do not have the resources to help."
Drift paused, thinking it over. Perhaps there was one thing that he could do to help them…he had fought shades in the past before…and his Great Sword was designed to fight and defeat such enemies. "…what if I went to stop him?"
Downshift jerked in surprise, optics wide. "If you…?" He shook his head, disbelieving. "I cannot allow it, wanderer. You would never return from the village."
"I have fought shades in the past." He pressed, undeterred. "And I have lived to tell the tale. Please, allow me to help you. I cannot restore the crops or cure the illnesses in the village, but at least allow me to try and stop this shade."
There was a long, heavy moment of silence as Downshift and Drift stared at each other, one lost in thought and the other waiting. Then the elder exhaled heavily, looking very tired all of a sudden. "If you so wish." He conceded.
It wasn't hard to find the ruined village where the shade resided; the directions were clear, and Drift's senses could easily pick up the malevolent energies coming from the building. They were screaming at him to turn the other way, but he ignored them and pressed forward, wary and watchful.
It was about the size and shape of the other village, though a perpetual mist clung to it and blocked out the sun. It was utterly devoid of all life and sound except a faint wailing and the sound of agonized whispers.
Drawing his Great Sword and enjoying the protective hum of power that came from it, Drift advanced cautiously into the haze that came before him. It wasn't long before he was lost in its clutches, unable to see more than a few feet in front of him in any direction, even with his warrior senses. The faint sounds of laughter trickled to his audios.
I am not afraid of you, Shade, he thought to himself, gripping his sword harder. Almost instinctively, he began to utter an incantation to Primus under his breath, one that spoke of protection and the power of light. When he had been brought into the royal court, he had been trained in the religion of the king and was now a firm believer. Sometimes, before he went into battle, he would paint sacred glyphs on his swords and armor for protection.
He couldn't say with perfect confidence that it was doing something, but it seemed that the mists curled away from him as he spoke the ancient, sacred words.
"…Drift…"
His frame and spark suddenly froze. That voice, it couldn't be…
He was…
"…it truly has been some time. Why are you so far from home?"
The mists shifted, changing and warping until Drift stood before his former king, his optics boring into the wandering knight. "Why weren't you there when we perished?" Though the ghostly tone never wavered, the words felt like judgment.
This can't be real, Drift's mind screamed at him. He's dead. He had been there, he had seen his frame nailed to the throne…
And yet…
"Don't remind him, Your Majesty." Another voice sent Drift's spark crashing into his chassis. "He now carries the burden of surviving alone. If he had joined us, he would have died too." His mentor…the mech who had trained him…
"But he doesn't have to be alone, Wing." another voice pointed out, joining his king and his mentor's forms in the mists. The king's advisor. "He has a chance to join us now."
"True. I hadn't thought of that, Axe." his mentor conceded, golden optics settling on his protégé. They reflected the same thoughtfulness and depth of knowledge Wing had possessed in life…
This isn't real, the voice of reason in Drift's mind insisted. Think! They can't be here! They're dead!
But…
It had been so long since he had seen their faces, heard their voices…
"Drift, you don't have to be alone anymore." His king said. Still shocked and frozen, Drift could only gape at the figures. "Come join us. Join your king."
"It's simple," Wing assured him. He was grinning. "Just release your spark, Drift, and you can come with us. The Well…it's everything we believed it would be. Trust us. Everything will be…perfect…" As he spoke, Wing leaned forward, reaching for Drift's chassis as if to help release his spark…
…when Drift's sword swung through him, cleaving him in half. Wing shrieked in agony and vanished into the mists. His king and Axe disappeared as well, dissolving with angry wails.
"You cannot fool me, Shade!" Drift shouted into the mist, trying to control his rolling emotions and the flare of his armor. How dare he try to use those who he had lost against him, how dare he desecrate their memory in that way…
How dare he. "Where are you?!"
His sword suddenly flared brightly in the darkness, earning a sudden hiss from the shadows as his magical wards were activated. Whirling around, Drift spotted…something…moving in the mists as he swung his sword towards it. It moved unnaturally, like gravity and friction held no power over it, and his sword passed harmlessly through the mist like the images of his deceased friends.
"I know you are here, Shade!" Drift called out to the mists, crouching into a defensive position. "Show yourself! Or will you hide behind dead mechs?!"
Instead of a response, Drift's audios picked up something else. "…hunt…kill…destroy…" It sounded like a death rattle and he repressed a shudder. He had heard many of those in his time.
"Are you the Shade? Answer me!" He demanded, swinging the sword again.
"…destroy…feast…hunger…" was the only response back to his demand. It sounded like there were more voices whispering the haunting words; whatever was there, it was not alone. "…hunt…seek…feed…"
"You will destroy nothing." He spat. His optics picked up more movement around him; more shadows were in the mists, moving just beyond his grasp and taking up the deathly whisper. "I will not allow it."
He had come to help, but when they tried to fool him with his deceased king and his companions to rip his spark out, it had become personal.
"…you…have no…power…here…" one voice said, silencing the chorus of chanting voices. The silence chilled Drift to the bone. "We will…feast…on your…spark…mortal." The voice sounded weak and tired, like every word was sapping energy out of it that it didn't have, but the last word was spoken with great venom.
"Is that what you are then? Glorified sparkeaters?" Drift taunted. Some part of his mind screamed that goading them may not be the best idea, but he ignored it in favor of the battle rush he was getting. "I thought a Lich King haunted these ruins, but it appears I was mistaken. You will be no challenge for me!"
"Foolish!" The voice retorted, rising much louder than it had been before. The other voices joined in, shouting the word in distain. The speaker drifted forward, the white ghost-like form taking on a shape of a tall, powerful mech. Drift's sword flared brightly again, forcing him back. "You…are a fool to come here! The King…will have your…spark…and the sparks of all who dwell here. We will…reclaim what has been…stolen…and the King…will rise…again!"
"Not while I live, he won't." Drift growled, narrowing his eyes at the specter in the mists. Black pits stared back at the swordsmech like miniature voids. "I cannot allow him to keep harming these people. You are but shadows and death and you will not win."
A haunting laugh came from the specter. "Try…but you…will fail. Our return…it is inevitable." Before Drift could retort, the specter and his companions disappeared, leaving him alone in the mists.
No, not alone.
Something else was there now.
A sudden weight appeared on him, like something was trying to crush his spark in its case. His sword flared again, but it was weaker than the last time it had protected him as if something was sapping its power. His arms trembled with invisible weights and he was suddenly struggling to breathe or think.
"Swordsmech from afar," a new voice, one of deep power and darkness, spoke from the mists around him. Directly ahead of him, Drift saw a core of darkness beginning to form a towering shape. "Welcome to your death. Your efforts were in vain, and your spark will help give me form."
"Not today, Lich King." Drift spat, forcing his frame to move against the unseen weight. Though he could not see the King nor had conformation that it was he, Drift knew this had to be him. No other shadow could have so much power; the specters paled in comparison to him. "You were stopped once; I can stop you again."
Deep laughter echoed all around him. "It took the armies of thirteen kingdoms to win against me, swordsmech, and even then, they could not stop me. They believed that their precious queen killed me, but," The shadow from far away suddenly materialized in front of him, but Drift was suddenly unable to move or think at all as roaring fear crashed into his chest. Memories of death, of hopelessness and fear and desolation, of his past, the past he had sworn to forget…they overwhelmed him. "I still exist. And now, I will feast."
He struggled and fought, straining with all of his power to get his frame to move, but he was immobilized, unable to do anything as the Lich King reached for his chassis to pluck his spark out…
A last thought occurred to him, one that brought him a measure of peace. At least he would see his king again, his family and his people…
At least it was something.
"No!"
The immobilizing weight on Drift's frame and his mind was suddenly removed, stunning him for a moment and leaving him vulnerable. The watching specters suddenly launched at him to take advantage of the window he had unintentionally given them. Instincts long honed by battle and training proved their worth as he swung his Great Sword in a wide arc without thought, the blade slicing clean through the Lich King and his specters. An agonized scream erupted from them as they dissolved in a swirl of dark shadows and mist, the loudest from the King. Drift turned to fight them, but then there was a voice, seemingly right next to his audio receptor.
"Run! Please, I cannot hold him long…run! Flee!"
Strangely, he did not question it; sheathing his sword, Drift turned and fled out of the village as quickly as his feet could carry him. There was a time he would have refused to run from a fight, but this was something he could not win against. He could not win against an immortal enemy and he would not die today.
Today, he would flee.
He did not stop until he was safely beyond the village, and only once he saw the other village did he stop to cool down his frame, drawing in large vents of air and falling to his knees.
"We will have you soon. Flee, but we will find you." A voice whispered, almost unheard. "Flee little swordsmech, flee…"
Drift shook his head as if to clear the voice. The strange feeling of being unable to control himself was gone, something he was grateful for. It had felt to strange, to not be able to command his body. The Lich King was truly powerful, even as a simple shade.
The bizarreness of what had just happened caught up to him. Someone, or something, had just saved his life. Something had held back the power of the Lich King, if only for a moment, and he had been able to flee.
And that voice, the one he heard urging him to leave…it was a femme. He was positive.
Drift frowned. But who would, could, hold the King back? If it was a specter, it wouldn't make sense; why would one of the King's servants hold back their ruler? It couldn't be a specter, and nothing else lived in that place…Well, nothing that he was aware of. Was there another evil there?
The more he thought about it, the less he understood.
He sighed. Perhaps Downshift would know what stayed the hand of the King, or would have an idea about who his mysterious savior was.
Standing up, he said a prayer of thanks to Primus anyway, for whatever miracle or savior He had sent to save his life, and headed for the new village.
Time was of the essence.
AN: Okay, so I talked about a double update to people, and I really did try, but with school only four days away and with people needing my help, it just isn't going to happen. That being said, Chapter Three is pretty much written and is just waiting for some TLC, so expect an update soon.
I really am glad I split this into two chapters; originally, this was only five pages but multiplied into fourteen and a half by the time I was done (and that doesn't count the three pages of stuff I removed before the final edit). It was a huge pain in the butt to write though and it gave me so much grief. But now it's finally finished and the stage is getting set for the drama to come...
One last thing: I forgot to mention this in my first chapter, but the story quotes that I use for each chapter are inspired by the wonderful work of Vaeru. I completely recommend checking out her work!
And, like before, if you review and tell me which story of yours you would like me to review, I will go and do so. I am grateful for the reviews I have been given and want to return the favor.
Hope you're having a great day,
~MM
