Monday, January 20, 2014

The Backbone

Senio Spathula This is not a story about a hero that guarantees the time, and it is not about how an entire people or kingdom is saved by a single feat, this is the tale of how even when good look like it will prevail; even when evils physical manifestation is destroyed; it can still take over and silence our hero. Prologue---German State of Prussia, 1367, the next heir to the throne, Dux Altilis, sits next to his father, and King, of the largest Prussian Kingdom- Allomyrinia. This King, Regem Victu was dying; and fearing what would become of his kingdom after he passed, he say with his son silently looking out the opening of his balcony. Both father and son shared this fear, because even there, in the highest chamber of the castle, they could hear the screeches and terrible moans of the giant, Hell-driven insects tearing, scratching at the walls; killing their soldiers like they were nothing. Helminths, they were called, had been attacking the Kingdom of Allomyrinia for the past few years. No one knows where they came from and no one knows what they want. Their hellish appearance and lust for massacre only drives normal townsfolk into fear and hiding. The few soldiers that venture out to find the source of the Helminths are surely killed. Episode One---Regem Victu spoke in a hoarse tone, exhaling and inhaling between each word; “Altilis, my son, you know what terror the Helminths can in stow, you know the power they possess. You must go Far East to the lands of Myrra. There you can behold weapons that are far stronger, more majestic and powerful than any Iron-Arm we forged here. Go and leave me to mend my people’s hearts, so that we may hold those spawns of Satan at the walls. Once you’re out of the highest walls of Allomyrinia, follow the streams to channels, and the channels to rivers, and the largest river you find will take you to Myrra.” Dux Altilis looked at his father and wondered what he must feel knowing his last time on the universal epicenter would be spent alone. And knowing that he willing sent his son away from his side. He aided the king in walking to his balcony then left to prepare his satchel. There, at the balcony, Regem Victu was greeted with the faces of a confused, fearful mob of women and children. He now spoke in a confident but retracted tone, “My people, Brothers and Sisters, my Youth; I have proposed a journey to my heir and he has hesitantly confined with it. He will be leaving for the far east of Myrra. He has already been sent out and I'm not sure when he will return; on the swiftest horses the journey takes only four fortnights.” His people stares silently u at the pale figure above. There was a unison thought amongst them, they knew that their only hope and possibly their last few days on this world were closing in. “The men, each and every one, will need to arm themselves and defend Allomyrinia from any Helminth you see. I don't know if or when Altilis will return.” He paused for a moment not realizing what he had just said. “I will retur-”. He was cut off by the screeches of a Helminth outside or the northern gate or Allomyrinia. Altilis heard the same screech as well, but much softer and more distant. He was already about 400 steps west from Allomyrinia. Episode 2---As every poor man’s soul was strung out into the defense of Allomyrinia, Dux Altilis continued his journey to Myrra. As he traveled he wondered if his home had been over run or if they could manage without his help in battle. He wondered about his father’s health as well; which was greater though, having their leader fall and return to complete chaos, or have the entire people lost to the bowels of fire. Not once did he figure the outcome that had the Allomyrinians surviving. Altilis was a strong warrior but had never been put into such circumstances as now presented. As he walked he noticed that there were less and less trees and more and more short grasses, and eventually sand. This change was gradual and seemed surreal to him. He would nest for the night on a green pallet of grasses maybe two or three inches tall and wake to find sand and dead grass around him. Altilis pondered if the lands were cursed or even worse, he himself. Even Myrra seemed to possess magical powers. When he finally could see the outline of the city, the relief he felt was unimaginable. After spending four days outside of his home and traveling many miles, the giant stone walls seemed inviting, in spite their actual ruse of trying to ward off invaders. Episode 3 ---Myrra was an alien world to Altilis, even after reading scripts numerous times about the Far East and South. He wandered around trying to find someone who could speak his old English word, but everyone here spoke an ancient Hindu-Monk language he had only seen written in the scripts a few times before. An old weapons shop had its street name posted in three languages; Hindu-Monk, Old-English, and Latin. He thought it odd to see Latin written, let alone spoken. It was an outdated, dark language spoken primarily by the previous ruler of the land; the Imperators. When he entered the Iron-Arms shop he was greeted by the Weapon Smith. “You clearly aren't from around here, if I don't notice anything more.” Dux Altilis replied in a hushed subordinate tone, “No sir, I’m from Allomyrinia”; he was cut short by a loud grunt. “Allomyrinia, what a sad cursed kingdom it is. How Regem Victu pondering this age, eh?” Dux Altilis silently stared at the goofy witted man, wondering what he should respond with. Part of him wanted to defend his heritage and father; but the other hemisphere was feeling the truth echoing in its mind. “He’s dead, and I’m his heir, Dux Altilis.” This seemed to put the man in a daze. Unsure of what either fellow wanted to say, the weapon-smith quickly turned to his tactics of selling metal-crafts. “Well you don't wander into a Smiths house looking for cervisia; what may I interest you in?” “I need something powerful; lightweight but strong.” Cautiously, the Weapon Smith replied, “Those aren't usually a combination, but I think I have something that would suit you well. What are you planning on combating with this piece of work with, if you don't mind my prying?” “Helminths”, Altilis said almost with a chilled fear in his breath. “I didn't think I would get to see the Fortnight-Crowned King of Allomyrinia on his first day, Arm him with my Luster and Pride, then send him off on his last day upon this Epicenter.” The Weapon-Smith said this almost in a lyrical style, like one would tell a curious group of consectors. Still this did not affect Dux Altilis, for he knew that defending against what would quite possibly be true of his fate, was pointless. Sensing the effects of his downing, the Weapon-Smith quickly though of some sort of method to enhance the already brought out Iron-Arm. “This claymore here, Ensis, as she is called, is the only sort of branch made of what the name describes, Ensis Ore.” The Weapon-Smith continued, “Although this alone can kill a hundred Helminth without chip or luster loss, to stop the Foot of Hell, you will need magic.” “Why are you helping me such, and how do you know much about my conundrum?” Altilis asked sharply. “One who crafts Iron-Arms simply does know their purpose. I have learned from word and sight the circumference of battle; what materials and shape can inflict death to a particular race of Hell.” Episode 4 ---He led Dux Altilis down the track worn road up to a larger structure, eccentric with stained glass and statues; their eyes depriving other ho stare of comfort. Altilis notices this and wonders if their original purpose was the opposite, but after years of weather and wash, their faces became distorted and deadpan. Inside the met a tall, slender figure, robed and hooded in purple and silver mantle. “I am in the presence of a young heir, if I haven't clouded myself so.” “Weary how he knows”, whispered the Weapon-Smith. “Who are yu-” “The Veneficus of Amplitudo, Grand Wizard of Myrra and its farmland.” “Veneficus Amplitudo, even though you can tell he is an heir; you would be awed by where that heir’s crowning is to take place and why it never will,” said the Weapon-Smith in a subordinate manner. “I have given him Ensis out of pity, but I feel that it alone cannot be of higher use. Perhaps you can bless him with the spirit of Ignis Geminus and prepare him better to combat Hell.” “I can, but price for the only aid you can effectively use is worth the weight of the beholders heart in Usummus.” “I can pay whatever your riddling tag is, Helminths take everything we love; our families and sanity, but our riches still hold steadfast where they are gilded.” Dux Altilis countered. “Very well, Ferrarius, will you allow us to reside as a pair?” Amplitudo Veneficus sternly asked. “Yes, I can, my store cannot pay for itself.” Ferrarius exited the cathedral and this Grand Wizard began his soul-sewing. “Midichlorian Magic, you will hold; from blade point to hilt.” The Grand Wizard took Ensis and laid it on a Golden Anvil. There it was covered in a dark black powder that was lit with a small candled flame. The flare of heat startled Dux Altilis and he stumbled back a few steps. “Complete, your sword is, coated with the hell itself, because in an overly situational pun, you can only fight fire with fire. “I bid thanks from me and my people Amplitudo Veneficus, May your magic not fail and my strength hold my hands.” Dux Altilis Added those last few words as he took the Iron-Arm from the mantle covered man and sprinted out the archway he had entered through. Now that Ensis and he were ‘blessed’ with Midichlorian Magic, and the journey back to Allomyrinia was less fretful and took only two moon; If only the heir had time to admire the glow of those two moons. Episode 5 --- Upon returning to Allomyrinia, he felt it unusually still and silent inside the walls of failed salute. When he passed through the gates, he noticed there was no one within the stone home that he wished he could name again. Dux Altilis fearing the worst and realizing that worst had become true tears off for the highest chamber that he knew his father should be in, regardless if death had accompanied him there or life. Death would have been a holiday companion in contrast to what welcomed him to the afterlife. Hell had manifested itself. If anything more than Hell and Satan itself was possible to exist, it existed there in Regem Victu’s home and tomb. His father’s head was the first piece of this blood Picasso. It sat just inside the door, on the floor in front; eyes hanging from their sockets like rotten grapes tied to a skull. His scalp was torn back by the hair and cracks slithered along the sides of his temples. Blad and pieces of flesh covered the entire room; walls, bed, furniture, floor. Regem Victu’s severed arms and legs were stacked neatly in a line pointing to the balcony doors. Dux Altilis shambled quietly over to the balcony, careful not to look at the horrid piles around him. There on the floor of the balconies overhang, was these words written: Avenge The Fallen King, The Base Of Pyrethrin Holds Your Death. Those words echoed in his mind for almost 15 minutes. He kneeled there wondering what the new king of Allomyrinia would do. Wait until the Helminths return to kill him or go out and find hell in the hills. Without further debate in his wits, the newly self-crowned Regem Altilis wielded Ensis, the Midichlorian of God, and proceeded deep into the woods of the outer lands of Mount Pyrethrin. His path brought him to the first minions of the Devil, these six-legged spawns mangled and demonic, drove themselves at him, but ceased to exist once the Blessed Iron-Arm severed their heads and legs. This single blow was effortless and caught Regem Altilis off guard, throwing him forward and onto his chest. After gathering himself and reorienting his way, he sprinted deeper into the tree home, fueled by the empowering of Ensis and a feeling of invincibility. He had altercations with several more Helminth patrols, each part containing double the last. It was in the the darkest depths of the caves of Mount Pyrethri where he found the largest accumulation of Helminths. They formed rows of a hundred wide and a hundred back; above them stood the only soulless creature Regem Altilis wanted to combat. The Queen of the Helminths. “Senio Inferna, I have come from my hell torn father and kingdom to drag you back to the fiery underworld that which you came and brought!” yelled Regem Altilis over the gurgling jaws of the Helminths. She spoke in Italic (later translated by satanic monks). “Thats a bold notation for such a young fool, you realize that you will die an even more painful death than you fathers?” Regem Altilis swung at the first group of proceeding Helminths in rage and disarmed them quickly, making sure to follow up his swings with more blows to the second rows. Wave after wave of helminths attacked Altilis and wave after wave he successfully killed them. The Battle waged on and eventually Altilis was knee depp in the carcases of dead demons. Now face to face with the Queen of Hell, Senio Inferna, He prepared himself to banish her existence to hell. “Killing my children only make your situation worse, the pain I will bring down upon you is far worse than being eaten alive!” shouted Senio Inferna. Without thinking Regem Altilis leaps towards the fire queen and swings at her extended arm only to realize too soon that a large blast of fire shot out at him and burned his face and chest. “I have magic you stupid mortal, what can you possibly do with your perishable soul?” “I have my own magic you barbaric wretch!” Regem Altilis, after recovering from the burns, attempted his second lunge at Senio Inferna and this time, when she sprayed a napalm blast, he extended his sword to separate its channel into two smaller ones that curved out and blew past him. Ensis contacted her right shoulder and continued through, separating it from the owner. She screamed in awe and pain, “HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE AGHH, NO HUMAN WEAPON CAN TOUCH ME?” “Midichlorian magic, Senio, and the will of the entire Allomyrinian people flowing through my bones!” With that final yell of vengeful words, he swung with the strength of a thousand hearts and drove Ensis through the right side of Hell’s neck across the shoulders, and into the ground beside. Screaming and bursting with flames, Senio Enferna’s smoldering corpse fell backwards, writhing and contorting until Ensis was penetrating her heart, restricting any life from flowing. Regem Altilis kneeled down next to his fates controller, and yet he controlled hers. Feelings that none or nothing could ever describe, filled Regem Altilis. He was a king, but of what? He had ridden Allomyrinia of Senio Enferna, but who was left to be told?