Post by garland on Jun 16, 2018 13:59:25 GMT -5
The fiery eyes in the helm of the demon gazed upon all consuming ebony; an anomaly that awaited the end of his journey to the peak of the keep that was Villain’s Vale. Before him, a path into the unknown. To his flank, a distant town, dominated by a hollowed bastion long scathed, and scrubbed clean by the sorcery of this keep’s dark mistress. Garland remained firmly rooted to the stone beneath his feet, observing what he could of a crusade map long abandoned, and the makings of a door sealed behind the dark portal. An insignia, no- rather a Coat of Arms, bearing the letter P at the dominance of its center, was carved at the peak of this ivory threshold. Curious as it was, the dark anomaly before it prevented any access to the silver grips of this passage. Garland recognized the darkness, as it bore a great similarity to the maw that had swallowed The Warrior in that other world.
A curiosity within Garland pondered whether or not the valiant paragon awaited just beyond this veil. That if he were to simply reach through its depths, he might be able to retrieve his fallen foe. Such fleeting wonders were dashed, as Garland knew better. He didn’t know how such truth found its way into his heart, but there was a certainty that these hopes were naught but delusional fantasies. A primordial desire to continue the fight, to have a more profound conclusion to their eternal struggle, of which Garland could find true satisfaction in finally besting light’s champion. To have watched the silver haired lion merely sink into the unknown, Garland could not accept such a victory, for within his heart he knew there to be none. The Warrior, somehow, in some way, still drew breath.
Garland’s breath tightened with such truth, his eyes narrowing further behind the ironclad façade of his helm. He would not accept, nor suffer these undeniable truths. Light would expire by discord’s hand, of this he remained certain. Where the paragon did not stand, in his place would remain those other three. The mage of crimson, the sorcerer of the black arts, and the ever elusive pickpocket. They doubtlessly carried on about their lives, unknowing to the storm that awaited on the horizons. These squalls of strife would soon thunder over their peaceful existences, and all them back to the purpose for which they still drew breath. To inevitably oppose his efforts, his will, just as Zest so foolishly sought to accomplish.
A feat birthed for failure.
Garland still drew breath, and would continue to savor each as a testament to the failure of the four Warriors of Light. There was no hope for their success, only assurance they would bow before Chaos in their final moments. His future most self would relish in the moments to come, for as the God would come to awaken in time, Garland would toss the broken bodies and spirits of these champions before the throne of Discord. It had already begun, as even now the first of Chaos’ harbingers now stalked the worlds in search for a wielder of the mythical key. It would not be long before the second Warrior of Chaos would reveal themselves to him, and take upon the awesome force of the fifth, the true Dark Crystal. Things were slowly, but surely, coming together one piece at a time. Garland reveled in these small, yet largely significant triumphs. As a decision based off theory was made, Garland would step into this dark portal, believing the ruler of the keep to await beyond its power. There was a surge within his heart, a crushing cold around his form, yet the warmth of the chaotic soul within would abolish these fleeting feelings.
Darkness gave way to light at last, revealing a darkened sky backdropping a castle of shadow and apparent abandonment. Garland stood before a great natural bridge, gazing up to this stronghold of dark sorcery with an air of intrigue. A brief glimpse to his flank revealed a forest of thorns, overgrown a path leading deep into their thicket. A scoff before a proud, fearless advancement across the natural bridge, the lavender cape billowing after its master. The harbinger of Chaos could then feel another shift in the air, a shift within the shadowed harmony that held this castle, this world within a vice grip of stillness. The steps of echoing steel came to a cease near the castle gate, as the nemesis of harmony sought to determine the source of this unseen otherworldly disturbance. In this regard, Garland’s deep voice would shatter the quiet around him.
”So…this crusade crosses yet another path.”
Mickey Mouse Thief of Light Maleficent @hades The Evil Queen