Hello everyone,
Just a quick note to let all the readers to know I see you! Thank you all once again, and, of course...
Enjoy the new installment.
"I love fish. Its the annoying winds and rolling waters I hate."
Nat Pagle.
Ruby sparks burst on the horizon. Rolling pockets of ashen design bustle from the tops of wooden constructs. Flashing across the skies are malicious concoctions of amber and silver – lightning that brings no comfort to our plight.
Around us is the sight of war, the sight of chaos, and the sight of what can only be described as a new era of conflict. To our side many float multi-tier vessels, riddled with cannons of all shapes and sizes, but it is one that catches my attention. This one bears masts and sails that extend from the side, while a gargantuan rudder navigates its design. Aboard the ship, rest dozens of multi-colored figures, all of which do not resemble anything of my kin. And rising from its heart and into the heavens is a red banner with a black letter "H." It is symbol of the Horde. This is the same type of craft from earlier, and its name bears that which it deserves, Juggernaught.
Engaging this said vessel is another of equal girth and length. Tall, white sails draw the eye, and navigate your focus downward to the standard ship architecture of our very own vessel – except intensified four fold. Cannon ports flash and burst at its towering sides, sending death to the Orchish ship yards from it. Finally, floating in the breeze is none other than the gold lion head marking the ownership of Alliance.
Scattered around the two's behemoths are dozens of smaller crafts. A handful match that of the tiny troll vessel that we warded off, while others, painted in purple and green, match the designs of elfish nature.
These ships, however, are not truly what call to me. No, what lures my eyes are the giant rotted ships matching that of the one that rode up beside us when we first entered this nightmare.
Crawling the sides of the ship are the objects of nature's bounty: barnacles, seaweed, coral. All of which give the vessel the appearance that is was once sunk; as if it had rested at the bottom of the ocean for decades. The molded, wooden frame does not beg to differ in this argument, nor does the sickly, tattered sails. These ships seem to be molded from the ocean itself, as if signifying their true connection with the sea. Like the faction's vessels, these come in various sizes, each of which possess their own, unique qualities.
A gentle fog radiates around the larger decaying ships, while the smaller ones glide at unnatural speeds through the mist. The crew aboard them all is teal in color, and they too bear sea's flora upon their very flesh. Lastly, a folded serpent's head rests upon the front of every ship, their unwoven flag.
The last set of vessels are rather awkward in design. Matching the architecture of the elfish ships, they bear two legs that protrude to the sides and glide against water's surface. These vessels are tan, almost coral color, and hold towering masts built of the same material their colors imply. Thick, gray scales are plastered upon the sides to give armor. Cannons do not line the edges of these vessels, yet haste is crafted into the very essence of the ship. For they seem to use their speed to make quick strikes at the crew of an enemy vessel or to board swiftly. Their crew are green in nature, covered in thick, unctuous scales, and bear fins across multiple areas of their bodies. They are Serpent Men. They are Naga.
Each set of ships are unique in their own ways; each design made for its own purpose. But all that matters is that they all serve the same ends…to vanquish their foes. And, in the end, they all stand alone, all others different from their own an enemy to their own designs.
"How didn't I know of this?" King Wrynn speaks rather disappointedly.
The Captain cackles as usual, "Who was going to tell you, huh? Most ships that come here are simply tossed to the piles of the defeated, while their crews are scattered across these miserable little islands that are riddled with miserable little goblins."
"It just doesn't seem possible. So many vessels stern across this very horizon. So much destruction…" he pauses to embrace his own ignorance, "So much death. How many have fallen? How many have died, and I have not known?"
The final questions are rhetorical in nature, but from the captain's reaction, he seems ready to answer. There is momentary silence, and I find myself gawking at the fidgeting figure. The man rolls the cigar he so fondly holds across his lips in an oscillating fashion. After a few seconds he shrugs.
"I could not tell you that, King." A strange look of discomfort briefly clutches his face. "I stopped counting after all feeling, all emotion left my body. That was, oh..." his eyes drift upwards, "about three months ago."
"Three months ago?" Greymane shouts in a puzzled manner, "…what possible means of insanity leads you to believe that this sortie has been taking place for over three months?"
The Captain shrugs, "Well, it all started when the Maelstrom began churning…more so than the wench already had. Tornadoes, tidal waves, lightning strikes, all sorts of horrors rained from her gullet, adding to the chaos already here. So, yeah, three months…"
He smiles again.
"Deckhand Jimmy dubbed it the 'Cataclysm' before all these angry Sea Lizards began shouting it as we nailed their bodies to their own ships."
The man suddenly begins stomping the deck as if trying to communicate with something.
"Isn't that right, Jimmy?"
From below you can barely hear the weak reply of man.
"Yes, sir!"
Shaking his head, the captain attempts to dislodge a thought from his mind. He tilts the wheel slightly to avoid some obstacle, and he appears to lose all concern with talking. Tok, however, does not seem satiated by the information given.
"Mon, ya crew and ya ship made it to land, obviously, how come da rest didn't?"
The captain does not look at him as he speaks, "That, troll, is because I do not come here to engage in the marvelous hospitalities everyone so offers, as you can plainly see from my tiny craft."
He pauses briefly to glance downward at the man of whom he speaks to.
"That and my crew of fifteen is now four, including myself. Therefore, my crew doesn't normally make it back, just the ship." His mouth opens, but he hesitates. "Well, that is half true. These three men below don't seem to take kindly to dying, so, they find it more fulfilling to load six cannons if they were ten men."
He stomps the deck again.
"Isn't that right, boys?"
In unison, a muffled set of fellows call back.
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"That and I have no desire to bring any more lads into this hellish fray. The four of us have seen enough for an entire city."
Oddly, Nathanos grunts.
"Where have I been all this time? So many targets, and so much of me to go around!"
"Good sir, you have the mentality of a lunatic!" The captain shouts to the undead, "…thankfully, a solid mind isn't needed here!" He chuckles. "I sold my sanity for craze and instability months ago. The two for one deal seemed good at the time!"
Nathanos chuckles sinisterly and claps his hands, "And I thought I could never be a sailor. The colors were just not fitting on me, but with enough bloodshed, I can always wear my sporting red!"
"Amen, sir, amen!"
The two cackle simultaneously.
"Oye, lad, the two are of equal mind. We are so dead…" Brann speaks softly, yet loud enough for all to hear.
Nathanos turns to retort, but is interrupted.
Suddenly, a large explosion draws our attention from our rather digressed state. A few hundred yards away, the towering sails of an alliance ship are engulfed in a fireball of destruction. Masts buckle and snap as the gunpowder below ignites fully. The orcish Juggernaught turns from its now defeated enemy, and triumphantly floats away. Its front shifts in our direction, leaving behind the wreckage as its prize.
What a shame…
However, as I gawk depressingly at the raging inferno, a strange rattle stirs my attention from behind. Swiftly, I pivot upon my heels and gawk back at the barrels I lost focus of so long ago.
And, to my horror, I find my ignorance to be that which brings me greatest fear. For visible behind the last barrel closest to the ship are a set of glistening, moist orbs. They are set an equal distance apart, and to their sides are a set of long, leathery pieces of skin.
They are…eyes…
Ice fills my veins while muscles tense. The gleaming spheres are massive, and glare sinisterly in my direction. Shadows consume the vast of the creature's face, giving it the aspect of horror it must yearn for. It twitches suddenly, the folds of skin fluttering.
I make to move, but the beast has me in its sight. I make to run, but the attack position is already situated. I make to shout, but all sound, all capability of speech is lost in the blaring, menacing…eyes.
Then, as I expected, the monster pulls downwards, and swiftly lurches upwards. Stumbling, I prepare myself for a furious leap, a life-ending strike, but what comes…baffles…even me…
"HI!"
A high-pitched, squeaky voice booms from the beast as its large head appears. Teal, slimy flesh runs the lengths of its rather bulky skull, while the two folds of skin flap as hunting ears. The set of once horrifying eyes become a gentle pair of inquisitive optics.
Below them is a rather huge mouth, matching the size of my head easily, and it is stuffed with a tongue that easily fills the void of the gapping maw. As I gawk, it fidgets before leaping from its spot. Despite my fear, it does not aim to kill, but instead targets a location to my side.
Once landed, I get a good sight of the small creature. It is no taller than my hips, but is easily as wide as me. A long, fat tail whips wildly across the floor, stirring the spines across its back as well as rippling ts tiny little belly. It stamps heavily in a circle with its giant, elongated feet before extending its three-pronged, lanky arm in my direction.
"HI! My name is Stuupee!"
I am…not…sure…what…to do.
However, before I can react, it turns from me, bounces towards Brann and gleefully shouts again.
"HI! My name is Stuupee!"
The dwarf flinches as I did, falling into the mast. He does not say a word, but his expression tells a thousand tales. The tiny creature jiggles. The long mouth oscillates vertically, while its pudgy little body jiggles with delight. Tok spins as the screech catches his attention. Promptly, he twists, readies his staff, but promptly begins to chuckle. He places the bottom of the weapon back to the ground and shakes his head.
"An Oracle, mon? Never in my wildest dreams…" He can barely contain himself as he stares at the tiny figure. "A curious little leap'a from da frozen north all da way here."
"You know my PEOPLE!" For some, odd reason, he shouts the last word rather loudly. "They GOOD, they know the SHINEYS."
He makes as if he is going to speak again, but, instead, loses all focus and suddenly stares downward. His eyes lock firmly at something near the dwarf's feet. As I look at him, I quickly come to realize that he is starring at man's feet…
"Woah!" Nathanos shouts loudly, "Where did you find this thing, Worm?"
"Hey!" I reply quickly, "why did I find it?"
He rolls his eyes, "Because its head is huge. Therefore, it must be related to you."
Darion breaks his gaze from the ship rolling in our direction, and focuses upon the tiny beast as well. A smirk fills the void of his face and he cannot help but yell.
"The jerk makes a solid point, Hope. It does remind me of you."
Nathanos chuckles as the hopping fiend finds something more entertaining than Brann's feet. It hastily scurries to Darion and begins to poke him fiercely.
"SHINEY!" The tiny creature seems attracted to the death knight's pulsing armor. "I like shineys!"
Darion sighs as the beast prods him curiously. Gently, he puts the end of his axe into the creature's belly, and delicately gives the creature a ten-foot shoo. The tiny figure flies briefly before landing near me.
Once again, he faces me, but his eyes do not see to want to focus. One orb seems to want to search to the left while the other tries to lock on me. I am forced to look away form the beast to keep from laughin. Sadly, what I find ahead goes me no satisfaction. Floating in our direction, directly towards our very route, is the Juggernaught from before. If I didn't know any better, it is coming straight for us…
"You seem NICE. I like YOU!" I try to keep my focus, but his sudden need to shout simply bewilders me. Glancing back down, all interest of prior lost, I reconnect with the wriggling…thing.
Awkwardly, he throws his eyes down and gawks at my feet. He likes my shoes…
You know we all like those old, crusty pads.
Tok calls as the creature grows fully fixated upon my foot apparel.
"Stuupee, mon, wat are ya doin'here?"
The creature does not break his gaze, "My teacher TOLD me to get LOST." He turns from me and throws his arms in the air. "I did GOOD! I don't know WHERE I AM!"
The troll tries to keep from laughing.
"Mon, why do ya keep shout'n?"
"BECAUSE…I don't know. This is the way STUUPEE TALKS." He pauses briefly before screaming, "TALKS!"
Tok glances from the creature to each of the others on the ship. Each and every person gazes at the tiny stowaway as if he is some marvelous wonder. Each and every person stares…as if waiting for the next line…
"Mon…" Tok looks back at it, "how did ya get here, mon?"
Stuupee wildly throws his hands into the air before promptly lowering them to point at the troll. "I swam. SWAM. The water was cold. COLD. But I am best swimmer, BEST swimmer EVER."
He suddenly flinches and throws his head to the left. For a brief moment, his eyes peruse the side of the captain's door as if something is going to appear.
Then, with quivering, giant lips, the tiny lizard quietly says, "I have to be…with the Baddie so close. Always…so…close…"
Fear consumes his lengthy face, its gigantic lips forming an unpleasant frown. Ears fold gently backwards, while shifting eyes are partially shrouded by folding lids. He smacks his lips a few times before quietly repeating.
"So close…"
Tok taps the side of his cane with one long digit before a stern demeanor becomes his own. There is no more humor or comedy within the troll's appearance – seriousness all he radiates now.
The troll narrows his vision, but I lose sight of him as an irritable sensation grips my chest. Air draws slowly in and wheezes painfully out. No…it cannot be…
"Baddie? Wat ya be talk'n bout, little Stuupee, mon?"
Twitching violently, he makes to reply…but…the world pulsates. Edges of my vision skew wildly while my sight drifts upwards. However, it is what I seen in this current realm that truly clutches my heart and ravages my soul.
As the world grows green, fading to the horrible emerald horror, I catch sight…of a massive, wooden vessel careening headlong into our very path. A dozen cannons line ahead, yet give no warning. Waves part at the rippling curvature of its nose, and flee…in the wake of its path. It is what I saw coming earlier, yet so foolishly ignored…
But that is lost now…
All fades from sight, leaving me with the fantastical despair of this teal, yet slightly grayed world. Once again, the boundaries of my sight ripple respective to their side – horizontal or vertical. A weak haze fills the void of my sight, yet my vision is sufficient enough to partake in the vast watery nothingness that surrounds me.
Neck muscles tighten as I sweep the vast sea. Gentle, teal waves ripple across stretching tides. Cusps fold and collapse a thousand times in beautiful harmony. Waves wash up upon the shores of tiny isles that bear nothing but calm trees and green sands.
It is almost tranquil here…
"Welcome…" a raspy, crackling voice splinters my mind, "…we…have brought you here…"
Anxious eyes sweep in a frontal arc. Waves ripple gently, yet confirm no source of the raining voice. I jerk my head in a 180 degree span, but the whistling winds and pulsating, dark green fields of rolling beauty tell me no secrets…and no truths…
"We…know your plight…" A second rumbling thunder batters my being.
Nervously, I twist my form, praying I can find the home of these roaring anomalies, but they are nowhere in sight. And, to make the situation even more perturbing…I recognize these voices…
"We know…you…remember…us-s-s" Hissing letters break from the next specter's blaring call.
Air wheezes hurriedly through my swollen air pipe. Blood courses rapidly, no concern of the narrow tubes of which they flow. A pump rages, pounding an unbearable rhythm of agony within my chest. These voices…are the same as from earlier. These voices…are the ones that haunted me…from the Demon Soul…
"Yes-s-s!" Weak vibrations shake the tiny, earthen platform where I stand, "You could not forget!"
Once tranquil waves ripple as if riled. The vast of the fluid field churns gently, yet it is three spots in particular where the violent activity spurns greatest. Waves smash and crash angrily upon each other in these locations, forming tall, spiraling cusps that flicker the air.
Pustules of greenish fluid form, bursting as quickly as they form – the water appears as if boiling. At first, the three sources of chaos merely twist and turn. Yet the rumbling intensifies with every passing moment, and the bubbling builds with each fleeting second. Then, emerging slowly from the tides --the finale to this display-- are a trio of miniscule isles. Parting from the way is the sea itself, fearful of the specs of moistened sand and rock. They form a semi-circle around where I stand, one to my left, right, and one straight ahead.
Slivers of tall grass protrude in sloppy pockets across each plot. Fine sand glistens in the unseen light. Waves calm and the wind quells…but even with the relaxing elements, it is apparent that this is far from over…
"Bear witnes-s-s-s, mortal, the s-s-s-ummoners-s-s of your s-s-spirit!" The third voice hisses once more.
And as its echo screeches across all reaches of space, movement stirs upon the isle to the left of me. Darkness whips like wind upon the floating strip. Clouds of rolling shaded design spiral from the center from the land, forming interlocking spires that rise into the heavens.
A heavy, black mist radiates from the core of bending tendrils. It spreads from amidst the darkened strands, and wafts in spikes to the sides. Long, bent hooks appear, like singular claws of mighty arms. Moments later, the heavy mist expands and molds appendages in all directions. To the rear appears two vast sheets of quaking evil; wings of some great beast lost in the past. To the base coils a thick, strand that envelops the crown of the island – a tail. Finally, in a quick, iniquitous burst emerges atop the misshapen form an elongated ellipse. Centered perfectly upon this are a pair of bright, yellow embers…eyes…
And as the cloud of a monster gains stability, the next isle commences to achieve the same ends. Except, as the dark strands lift upwards and the mist grows outwards, what appears can only be described as a dozen snapping, vertically oscillating maws.
Finally, upon the isle to my right, builds the darkness, the heavy tenebrous fog, and the final shape of this creation's design. This last monster is a mere semi-sphere of dismay and horror, yet what is lacks in construction it makes up in the hundreds of glowing, amber orbs. A thousand eyes…
Each sphere, each tainted orb dims and fades to the syllabels that follow in suit, as if emitting the words from their very hues...
"Bask in this moment, little human, for it shall be your salvation!"
Instantly, the form before me, the monster of a thousand maws begins to vibrate -- each mouth clicking a different word, "We...come...now..." its dark outlined mouths quiver, "...with...a...warning..."
Now the first creature, one bearing the form of a winged serpent, lets slip a barrage of hearty hisses and sinister, slithery words, "We, the Dark Elders-s-s, have s-s-seen the future! You mortals-s-s are blind, your feuds-s-s ignorant of the true threat ris-s-sing! Even now as-s-s we s-s-speak the foolish orcis-s-sh mortals-s-s come to des-s-stroy you! "
A black, misty tongue slaps the bottom edges of its mouth.
" We have s-s-seen the tides-s-s of morrow! And we have found...only...darkness-s-s! Only s-s-sorrow! Only...chaos-s-s..."
As it finishes its last statement, the first Thousand-eyed beast takes over, its orb pulsating maliciously, "For with the sands of time comes the rise of the Shadow! With the cascading flow of each grain, a beast grows stronger! And with it, the end of the light as you know it comes!"
Silence sweeps over the dark beings. I stare at the last, quaking, shadowy form with intent, yet filled with anxiety and fear. Sweeping, my eyes follow to the central monster before locking upon the serpent. And as my optics move, as they shift, I can feel the evil within them. I can feel the iniquitous truths they spew, yet so willingly corrupt. It is with these feelings, that a surge of anguish, driven by rage, fuels my body and controls my very tongue.
"And why do you need me?" I glare at the winged reptile, "Do you plan to use me to prevent these sights, or do you simply wish to betray me into becoming the means to these dark ends?"
My eyes shift to central, multi-mawed monstrosity, "I have heard of what you want from me..."
"It is in those defiled words where the truth lies!" The Mouth Beast interjects, "Together we shall overcome the true threat! We shall defeat the Nightmare!"
I snort to this comment, only confidence flooding my soul.
"And what, give you rebirth? Give the power to conquer this planet?"
There is a brief silence before the Mouth Beast clicks his fanged maws and replies, "If it prevents our own mistakes from prevailing...then...yes..."
My jaw lowers, anger and disbelief all I know now, but as I make to retort this notion, a harsh, chilling wind slaps the edges of my mind. Silencing all motives, the cold slips past my body and glides behind my person. Yet, as it does...it brings with it a dark, inhuman roar that deafens the Dark Elders themselves and dwarves their once commanding presences...
"So deceptive, old friends! Always so deceptive." The voice radiates from all angles, from all elevations and all plains of existence, "We all know your lies, your true desires!"
Slowly...it gathers in strength behind me...
"That future is yours to hold, and yours to produce! This mortal is beyond false words and your fallacy of tales!" A dark, thundering chuckle congeals in full force rearwards, "Your victory will bring the dark fate..."
Pin-pricks prod the back of my neck, each stab beckoning me. Alluring, sinister hands coax the tethers of my existence, and despite my efforts...they call me into action. Pivoting upon my heels, I turn to see what yearns for me. Twisting my neck, I twist to discover what truly awaits. Rotating, I shift to the growing sparks of returning fear...
Then, as I turn one shoulder to the Dark Elders and one towards the call, I find what I knew awaited...
A small, yet steep rock mound extends from the quaking waters. Jagged peaks rise only a short distance, yet bear enough strength to hold the cascading shadows that roll down its sloping sides. Atop the pinnacle stands a figure bearing a quaking, quivering black cape. Shadowy tendrils slap the edges of the dirt, while a malicious mask hides the intent of a dark being. From here...I can feel his piercing stare. I can feel...his sinister smirk...
The Dark General.
But it is what stands below him, at the base of the cliff, that truly stirs the frost in my veins. A swirling vortex of black clouds orbits and surrounds like a dark crown around the isle. It spawns from a twisted, tenebrous figure, born of Stygian nightmares. The figure stands no taller than the General, yet spews forth an aura that gives him the presence of a giant. He bears the form of a man, yet quakes and quivers like the elements, like the shadows themselves.
Long, pitch-black legs give support to the dark man. Hunched, sturdy shoulders brace its confidence, its malicious demeanor and all strength. Arms angle for full view, while an vertically elongated, humanoid head bears a set of blaring-white eyes. Across its body runs pulsating ruins that grow darker than ever imagined before growing a weak gray shade. They oscillate in this fashion just as the rolling flames that gather upon its fleshless body rolls menacingly.
Each flickering fire travels up from its feet, hands or chin, gains fuel as it travels up each limb and skull before finally reaching its pinnacle. It is there where it burns momentarily before drifting into the air to dissipate. It is at the moment that the flames fade from a remarkably light-less hue to a gray color -- as if absorbing the light itself before fading into nothingness.
From here, I can feel the penetrating, mind-shattering gaze of the agonizing, bright eyes of the dark figure. Suddenly, it shifts and its boundaries quiver as the booming, overwhelming voice sends envy into thunder's heart.
"We meet at last, Vessel. Such an honor, indeed." No mouth moves or is even made visible as it speaks, "To think my destiny lies in your hands..."
"Your destiny lies back in your prison, Curse!" The Thousand-Eyed beast shouts angrily, "Go back to your nightmares, back to your previous wench..."
"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OF HER!" His voice intensifies, true rage pouring from his unseen lips, the once calm flames build as if oxygen was dumped into their paths. "Your filth has no dignity speaking of that creature, nor do you even have the place to mention her from you grotesque form! The fight that shall ensue will be between you and me, and oh, the pleasure, the satisfaction I shall draw from ripping each unctuous eye from your pleading, begging form..."
Suddenly, the fires built of black relax, and the eyes return to piercing my soul, "Unless, of course, the Vessel wishes to prevent that war from ever becoming reality..."
Before I can even dare touch that notion, the Maw Monster speaks, "Yes, mortal, we do digress. We have called you here for a civil end to what does not need to occur."
I turn, complete confusion consuming me. And as I move, the Serpent reads my every moment. "Do not grow bewildered, little one. Jus-s-st know that we drew your s-s-spirit here, to this-s-s plane, to this-s-s reality built by us-s-s alone and not of titanic des-s-sign. And that we drew you here to let you decide the end of the war now...if you s-s-see fit..."
I make to speak, but the Maw Monster continues, "Yes, this watery existence is not the dream you so slumber into, but another realm. Do not concern yourself so,...we have come to give you the opportunity to choose a god, to a choose a winner to this war."
The Eye Beast bellows, "To prevent your planet from churning, to prevent countless deaths, and to avoid what might end what has lasted the tests of time."
"To pick...the god to rule this-s-s world, to bring peace to this-s-s world." The tongue slaps the Serpent's jaws as it speaks, "To choose...Azeroth's-s-s las-s-st god."
Then, as the final word slips his lips, the water riles once more. Cusps gather and dissipate wildly before me, and before each of the god's. Narrows trips of sea bubble, boil and churn into chaos. Yet this frenzy lasts a few fleeting moments. Then, rising from the tides, comes a set of stone blocks that drift just above the water's edge.
Before me rests multiple large, paths built of disconnected stones, each one guiding me towards one of the three gods. I turn to find another route leading me back towards the creature build of the shadows. My eyes peruse the moist, slippery stones in dismay. Dry lips part, but no words follow. Cold hands grow warm, yet clammy to the touch. This is not real. This cannot possibly be. This has to be in my head...
"Choose now, mortal!" The Eye Beast blurts loudly, "follow the paths before you, fuse your soul with the one deserving so! Prevent the War!"
My body and eyes drift to his angled, rock path. "Yes, let your destiny guide me to triumph!"
Bemused fully, I cannot help but gaze to the next path. It is then, the Maw Monster bellows, "The choice is right, I shall rise again!"
Next, I navigate to the Serpent, and like the others he too speaks when I lock upon him, "Do not hes-s-sitate mortal!"
Finally, pivoting upon my heels, I find the being of darkness. As I stare at him, I feel the cold chill of his existence. As I gawk at him, my body rattles and the pressure of this world's fate gains full weight upon my shoulders. As I gaze at him, I want to cry, to collapse, to fall into nothingness and to be forgotten. As I look at him...I just want to be free of this fate...
But as I stare on, I know that is not possible. Destiny has found its way to me, and has given me the power to choose the fate of thousands. Someone, something, has found me fit of such a burden. I could collapse, I could falter and run, but...I must follow the words of Tok; I must follow the unsaid advice of Nathanos, of Darion. They would tell me what to do here and how to react. All of them would have the same answer...
And so do I.
I shake my head weakly before confidently rotating back forward. Before me stand the beings of dark's design. Before me stand the paths to guide them to complete victory, to set their reign in motion. Before me rests the choice to choose the fate of this world. And so...I shall.
My feet lock, my shoulders hunch back, and with all strength, all courage willing, I shout to them all.
"My choice is made!" I stomp my foot and tilt my chin upwards slightly, "And none of you are worthy of me. None."
Instantly, the paths descend in a fury of raging waters. Black clouds stir angrily, spewing darkness into the air. Glowing eyes flicker maliciously, bearing my name fully and whole-heartedly. Their reactions are exactly how I had imagined them. I only hope now, that the next step is not matching of my own visions.
"And so it has been written, just as it was predicted." Maw Monster speaks as if disappointed, "and so shall the War begin!"
Suddenly, a rush of wind slaps my being, dragging my clothing backwards.
"Come forth, minion, and answer your masters' calls!" The Eye Beast blurts as the gusts gather strength. "Churn the skies, fuel the winds, and surround the spans of existence with your might!"
The raging winds lash at my flesh and rock my very existence.
"Come now, Windlord, and bring the mortal to us-s-s!" Finally, the Serpent bellows.
"Ha! You bring your pet to play?" The Shadow Lord behind me shouts, "If that is how you wish to initiate our first skirmish, then I shall not disappoint!"
I turn, confused, rattled, and worried.
"Roll, angry tides! Spurn, endless fields of aquamarine!" He lifts his hands to the skies, his fingers curling inwards to the palms, "Master of the seas, controller of the churning tides, Lord of the raging waters, hear my call! Give these fools the fight they so desire!"
Around me, the once tranquil seas rally to some unseen force. Crashing waves slam into all areas of land, and fold upon themselves with full fury. And as the water's rage and the winds thrash, the edges of my reality flicker. Gray slowly fills in the borders, while teal fades from all aspects of my vision.
But as I leave this dream, I leave the moment that could have been my salvation...the Eye Beast calls back to me...last...time...
"Fear now, mortal, the might of the Old Gods! Fear now, the fury of the planet! Fear now...the War of the Last God!"
A bright flash fills the void of all space and time. And as it fades, I feel a set of heavy, moist lids break, revealing a mesh of black and gray -- a smeared mess of perfect beauty. And as I stare, all sound returns and with it...comes the cries of horror, of anguish, and of fear. And as I listen...the reality of what just happened sinks in...
"MON! GET UP, MON!" I feel a hand grasp my shirt, and I find myself sitting upright. It is then, I take in Tok, "Mon, what just happened?"
I cannot help but ignore him as the sightings around me gain my full attention. To my sides stand the companions I know so well, and despite my joy to see them still intact, I know the situation is far from fortuitous. Standing near the mast is Brann, a gun braced in his arms, but lost to the event before him.
Near the stairs rest a sturdy Nathanos and a determined Darion, each one embracing the situation as their stubborn heroism allows. Slowly, I peruse the deck, finding a Captain nervously screaming orders to those around him, his mouth breaking to the limits his body allows. Near him stand a pair of bewildered, bemused rulers caught in the tidings of something unimaginable. Finally, at the front of the ship stand a trio of men, no fear in any of their souls, yet amazement their final expression.
But what awaits ahead...deserves nothing less...
All eyes rest upon a spiraling vortex of wind, splintered wood and gusty waters. Growing from the seas, spanning a good three ship's lengths across, is a rotating mess only describable as a windy screw. And amidst its center rests a vertically tilted vessel. Once grand, the Juggarnaught's rear is drawn towards the heavens, while its nose barely treads the skin of the waters.
Decks, cannons, bows, masts, and all are torn from the mighty vessel. Crewmen are sucked into the spiraling abyss before being ejected like projectiles. Ever-so-slightly, the ship spins with the current of the winds, and lifts upwards with each passing moment. But I lose interest to the insignificant fly caught, but focus on that which is the trap.
Spiraling gusts form threads upon the cylinder like construct, giving the funnel the appearance of a spinning screw. This vortex rises into sky a great distance, before coming to a churning heart of gaseous matter. There, lightning dances across the surface and plays within the cavity. Sparks of amber flash across all vasts of what can only be described as a windy torso of something greater to come...
And if my words are heard, an explosion of wind, clouds, and lightning bursts from one side of the central cloud. An elongated tendril breaks at the middle, allowing for the airy mass to bend. Like the base, this portion spins outwards; spiny, jagged threads of air traveling the vasts of this arm. Finally, forming from the end of the horizontal appendage is a set of malformed, cloudy claws. They roll inward, one by one, before the second limb bursts from the lumbering behemoth.
A frenzy of sparking lightning bounces across all spans of the clouds before directing towards the pinnacle of the heart. Then, from a mighty concoction of flashes, gusts, and rumbling thunder, a giant, windy ellipse forms. Strands of airy matter flicker from the quaking, shapeless head. At last, with a finale of bursting flashes, calling thunder, and whipping winds, a set of vertically elongated, amber sparks are drawn into existence. A set of eyes...for a being so deserving...
"AT LAST!" A voice built of sparking electricity and cackling thunder shatters the voids of time and space, "Al'Akir the Windlord has returned!"
The winds clash against the mind, while his words spark fear across the vast of my flesh. The monster's gaze squares firmly upon the ship, and focus...upon me. And, as he stares, the clouds from above descend as if called, forming a sheet of rotating gases that hide the upper portion of his body from sight; hide all, but the burning, amber...eyes...
"Mon!" Drawing me back down is the call of the troll, "Tell me wat happened! NOW!"
My eyes break from the spiraling wind god, and divert to the troll. Dismay and deep concern lather the vast of his expression. At first, my lips and mind are unable to procure anything of us, but with a forceful shake, the troll stirs my body into action.
"They...they made me choose." Lips quiver with every word, "And I couldn't pick...I knew I couldn't. I am sorry..."
"Sorry?" Joy and concern oddly congeal upon his face, "Mon, ya have no idea wat ya just did!"
His eyes divert to the side of the ship, "Ya saved us time, mon! Now...now...I gotta meditate. I need ta tell da Druid of wat has happened!"
He makes to stand, but promptly returns his attention to me, "Whateva ya do, mon, do not let dem get ya!"
Swiftly, he stands, rushes to the captain's quarters and throws the doors open. The troll turns to the windy concoction of might before twisting back to me. There, he throws me a nod and makes to enter...but...no...?
"Tok!" His response is a lack of movement, "Where are you going?"
A smirk forms upon his face, "I gonna go tell da Druid mon dat dey gotta get ready for us! Dey gotta get prepared for our arrival!" He briefly glances back to the Windlord, "If, of course, we don't die, mon."
Before I can ask another question, the troll enters the room and exits our sight and mind. Well, once again, you were helpful in making sure I am not confused. Not that I really need him to tell me what is happening. The Elders told me all I needed to know...
You really need to focus. You do not know how terrible of a time this is to wander.
The boat suddenly quakes, and I find myself directed upon the elevated figure before us. His form has not altered, say for the constantly interchanging gusts that roll across his form. The vessel within, however, seems to have gathered within his cavity and is torn asunder within the vasts of the chaotic core.
As I stare...a scared voice rolls from my side.
"Tag...I am it." I turn to find a quivering, shivering, tiny Stuupee behind the barrels of his first discovery. He hides with his hands locked upon one of the wooden items. His eyes aim for something behind before they divert briefly to me. His quaking lips break, "The Baddie has finally caught me..."
Before I can move, the voice built of a thousand crashing waves blares from behind.
"Al'Akir, you fool! Your betrayal shall not go unpunished!" Instantly, I am forced to turn.
My heart sinks as a second towering monstrosity fills my sight. Rising as tall as the first, this being is similar in appearance, yet rather unique. Unlike the first, this one bears a more humanoid appearance. A trail of water gathers as legs from the flowing fluid. Traveling up and down the base are liquids that seem to move like rivers, tides alternating as currents through the span of the legs. This foundation fades to a thick, quaking core of bubbling waters and molds into rolling tides of aquamarine and jade. These same waters roll to a set of human-like arms and end at inter-webbed fingers of gargantuan proportions.
Finally, the teal waters roll to an oscillating, instable head. A rather well-defined skull bears many humanoid characteristics, yet its misshapen appearance is constantly changing. The only firm constant of this equation are the dark gray, beaming set of sparks that makes for its eyes. His gaze, however, is firmly upon the Windlord.
And it is with his appearance, and with his gaze, that the stands to the side of our existence and readies for his assault against the other.
"The end comes, Al'Akir! For the tides and seas have risen. FOR NEPTULON, THE WATERLORD, HAS BEEN UNLEASHED!"
His voice booms, rolling across the vast of this universe. His voice booms, leaving only the sounds of their very existence to bring us comfort.
And here we stand, amidst the field plotted for us. Here we stand, between two massive beings, nothing but insects in their grand paths. Here we stand, unprepared for what comes, and fearful of what shall ensue. Here we stand...in the center of the first conflict of an unseen war. Here we stand...part of a war where we do not belong...
But that means little. The battle lines have been drawn, and we are in the middle.
So it begins.