HOME | DD

Description
Warriors

Drake stood in front of the castle, looking over his shoulder. The land behind was quite foul, sinister clouds of ash blocking out the golden rays of the sun, the constant rumble of black thunder resonating throughout the harsh barren wastelands. And it was filled with perils. Perils he had just journeyed across to reach this place. He could not go back now. What he sought was just inside. The building before him, the enormous structure, of the castle, was quite impressive, with jagged roofs and high towers, converging on the central spire, reaching to the blackened sky. That was his destination, but first, he needed to get inside. The doors before him were rather imposing and ominous at the same time, having a number of disturbing carving in them, of sacrifices and demons. Such things never meant anything positive, but Drake had long since known that the places that he went were hardly friendly, always filled with terror and danger.

But he had no time to think on this, he needed to get past this obstacle, and enter. He considered breaking down these daunting gates, but he was just a man, mighty though he might have been. Climbing the walls of the tower was an impossibility in his heavy armor, making him too bulky and heavy, and besides that, the strength required to do so would have left his body physically exhausted when he reached the summit. He opted to do something rather straight forward, and what most would deem unwise. He knocked. In doing so, he was giving his position away, alerting his enemy of his arrival, giving it time to prepare a counter attack. Drake did not care, he was never one for stealth, and breaking down the gates would have made a stir anyway. Besides, he was courageous, and having a stout heart and unbreakable will, his mind was firm that anything that was hurled in his path to halt his advance, he would conquer. That was if the doors would be open. Drake believed that they would. And he was right.

With a colossal groan, and earsplitting grating of steel, the two iron doors opened just enough for Drake’s massive shoulders to pass through. The villain was cocky and confidant, so assured in its own victory, it didn’t even seem to care if it let Drake try to reach it. Its devious traps and hazards would finish off this stalwart hero. “That’s what he thinks,” Drake told himself, and regardless of how much he knew this was a trap, he didn’t care, and stepped beyond the threshold, and into the castle. Behind, the doors clanged shut, the force of which shook the ground, and Drake knew that he must only become stronger in order to face the oncoming battles. And those battles, began right then. For in the foyer of the castle, a huge room of stone, covered with lavish tapestries and expensive furniture were two enormous stone statures, each standing thirty spans tall. They were made of dark granite, shiny black rock, carved out in incredible detail. Two gargantuan men, wearing heavy armor, each wielding a huge two handed sword, the point going down, and their hands folded upon the pommel. Their stone faces were not human however, with horns and fangs, each having ghastly expressions. And their eyes, huge black sockets, suddenly filled with an emerald green, like two lights turning towards him, gazing down from their incredible height. They started to move, lifting their swords up, and stepping off their stone pedestals. Each bit of movement they made was accompanied by grinding and rumbling of their huge rock bodies.

“Is this is all that you send against me?” Drake called out, staring up at the ceiling, having no doubts that his enemy was both watching and listening. He got no answer, save the two statures shaking the ground with their mammoth footsteps. “Very well,” said he, and reached behind, taking a grip on his own sword, pulling the huge and heavy silver blade out of its scabbard with the metallic ringing that he knew so well. Bringing his sword around, he was glad that he had visited the wizard Faluk. The old man had warned him about stone golems, statues that had been given animation, to serve and defend their master. “Your sword is strong and your arm mighty,” he had said, “But no mere mortal man can pierce through their stony hide. Take this pendant, and when the words inscribed are spoken, you shall have the adequate power you need to fight.” So now, Drake reached inside his armor, and pulled out the golden pendant hanging from his neck by its chain. He had gone over those words in the last couple of days, but had never tested this items magical property. “No time like the present,” said he, and in loud strong voice, unwavering even though the golems were nearly within striking distance, “Sulvilna Abli Thantos Regkog Aronk!”

With a humming glow that intensified with every word he spoke, in a blaze of light and spark of power, Drake felt a titanic strength run through his body, filling him with such vigor and vitality. He felt unbelievable. Not only that, but his already shiny blade was now radiating an aura of pure radiance. He had long been accustom to the weight of his sword, but now, it felt lighter than ever, feeling like it would nearly fly out of his hands, and go sailing away. But now was not the time to test that, for two huge swords of granite were now coming down atop his head. Not fearing these mindless servants in the least, Drake lifted his sword over his head, and waited. Yes, he could have moved, but he didn’t need to. With a splintering crack, the near unbreakable black granite swords were shattered into fragments breaking on Drake’s magical sword, showering the floor in sparkling black chunks. The two giants stared down at their now ruined weapons with blank expressions, their stone faces incapable of expressing emotion. Drake took three steps toward them, and almost nonchalantly took a swipe at each other their legs, each slice cut through the hard stone haphazardly, severing the lower legs of each statue. Without the proper support to hold up their immense weight, both gargantuan giants came crashing to the floor, the impact of their fall breaking their bodies into huge hunks, rendering them useless, and expending their magical energies.

Drake walked over their remains, finding another huge door on the other side of the room, at the top of a winding staircase, leading upwards. These doors were huge, but unlike the ones one the entrance, these were made of wood. And these did not open. Still in the grips of the magic of the amulet, Drake proceeded to hack his way past this barrier, using his sword like a misshapen axe, making a hailstorm of wood and dust until he created a largish hole, enough for him to step through. Beyond, were more stairs, going up and up. And so Drake went, up and up, watching carefully where he stepped, knowing that cruel and hidden traps were not above his “host’s” courtesy. But this hallway must have been considered a more public place, as minions went up and down the stairs, thus there were no spells enchanted on doorways, or loose rocks that would signal a volley of poison tipped arrows. Eventually, Drake found another wooden door, this one much smaller, a regular door, and this one was unlocked, not requiring him to beat through it. In the room beyond was a crypt or something similar, for there were hundreds of bones lying on the floor. Skulls were the most predominant, but there were not just human skeletons, but animals as well, horses, cows, large beasts, all of them fleshless, white and clean. Drake made his way into the middle of the room, and stopped. He waited. Nothing happened. He glanced up again, knowing the unseeing eyes that were watching him were hiding somewhere above. “Well?” he asked.

As an answer, there was a clattering noise, as bones along the floor began to wiggle and tremble, shaking and jangling. Quite literally, their bones were being rattled. And as they coming together, feet and toes fusing, legs and hips fusing, arms and heads with torso, and soon, distorted skeletons of all grotesque shape and size was surrounding Drake. Some were baring their claws, hissing, or rather whistling air through their hollow bodies, and some had snatched up a stray sword or axe. Each weapon was ancient and decayed looking, not sharp, serving as little more than a blunt club. Drake had been waiting for this, as at another location, he had seen his foe use this same trick, conjuring up the dead to use as servants. It is more intimidating and dangerous looking that it actually is, these things were very weak, only a slight magical bond was holding the bones together. They were about as flexible as marionettes, having jerky and slow movement. Not wanting to waste time, Drake began to swing, his still shining sword sliced the air around him in huge arcs. Everything that blade came into contact with was destroyed in a hurry, the soldiers of bone breaking apart, and crumpling into dust at his feet. It look him less than a minute to clear the room out which had just been full of over a hundred skeletons. Dusting his armor off, having been covered by a shower of dust, Drake found the exit, and began to climb again, going up another set of stairs. This climb was shorter by far, and he entered yet another room.

This one looked like an indoor coliseum, with a center arena, and numerous seats and benches, all of which were vacant. It was all made of grey stone, artistically crafted, pictures etched into the side of walls, the same sort of negative images. There were columns of stone rising up, surrounding the center fighting pit. The center wasn’t dirt, but more stone. The room itself was of a nearly incomprehensible size, but considering the dimension of the castle, it wasn’t impossible. It was cold, all of it, the place not having any warmth to it. “Cold as Death,” Drake said, “Dark as a moonless night.” He then tilted his head back, and his eyes scanned upward. “Something as malicious as you!” There was no verbal response, but instead, there was a rumble, as rising out of the center, from the stones themselves, was a pillar of rock. It was large, thick as well, and very, very tall, rising high over Drake’s head. He watched its climb, but he was more concerned what was attached to this pillar, than the pillar itself. It was a monster, which was all could be said to describe what it was exactly. But then, the words abomination and monstrosity also popped up. For it was something so foul, so putrid, so tremendously revolting to be anything but those words.

Its skin was a pale red, if one could call it skin, for it was oozing around and falling to the floor in rubbery patches. Its body was shaped like a mutated elephant, with four huge legs, and two thick muscular arms, complete with stubby fingers and toes. On its back were extended thin grey spines, tapering down to serrated points. A tail was coiled around the whole column, squeezing into the hard rock. What could be only described as the “head” was covered with ropey green hair, which in turn, was coated in some manner of darker shade of green gunk. Two horns, with scaly hide encircled its entire head, draping down near its tail. Three watery yellow eyes with a purple center were transfixed on the intruder. A smell was being generated from this foul mockery of nature, permeating the air, it making Drake feel dirty. It was tainted that was clear, but a lesser man may very well have died of fright just observing something so grotesque. Drake was no normal man. “You send such horrible things against me,” he shouted to his unseen host, “In an effort to slow my resolve. Why not save both our time by stopping this pointless hiding, and you coming out to face me yourself.” He knew that this would not happen, the enemy had made it quite clear that it wasn’t going to show until it had thrown each and every one of its meaningless pawns in his path in an effort to stop, slow, or at the very least weaken him. Drake had no intention of having any one of those three occur.

Now faced with this creature, Drake was ready for a real battle, the first two rooms had been a colossal joke, a waste of his energy and time, not requiring him to, you know…try. Here, that would be different, he was sure. He didn’t want this slimy horrid thing to try any sort of attack that could be dangerous, so Drake rushed it, sword leveled at its gooeyness, ready to run it through. He did just that, the sword sinking in deep, the thing not making any attempt whatsoever to try and evade, and let itself be punctured. Not sensing any change in its well being, Drake pulled his sword from the mound of ooze, his blade freeing with a soft sloppy pop. His shimmering blade was now coated in red jelly, which was quivering and quaking in a gruesome fashion. Without bothering to clean of his weapon, Drake tried again, this time taking a huge slice instead of a vicious lunge. The result was the same, sweeping right through the thing, in one side and out the other, just like that. And with no other alternative, Drake kept swinging, each strike sending wave after wave of goo across the stone floor, it pulsating there, not dying. Drake knew that this wasn’t the answer, and if he was going to proceed, he would need to discover this atrocity’s weakness. He knew that this thing wasn’t going to fight him; its body wasn’t designed to battle. It was designed to take a hit, and keep going, to be nigh indestructible. Drake was sure that the door it was guarding would not become unlocked until this challenge was overcome. So, he needed the answer.

He discovered it purely by chance, but once he did, it became clear. Drake was rushing it, his sword was down low, the tip of the blade running along the stone ground as he ran, sending up a cloud of sparks. His intention was to bring the sword upward in a sweeping forward arc, when the thing let out a sickening groan, and drew away from him. What had he done differently this time, that hadn’t been done in all the other attempts. He didn’t think it, at that exact moment, had decided to feel pain and pull away. No, his last attack had only one thing different. He had been sending up a shower of sparks which had been flying every which way. So that was it. Fire. With that answer, Drake knew what must be done. He nonchalantly began to wipe his sword clear of all jelly ooze, and put his sword away. He would need it no more against this beast. He then clapped his hands together, his heavy mailed fists, and his eyes shut. He began to quietly chant inside his head, words he had known, words to one of the very few magical enchantments he had been taught. As his summoning went on, the air in the area began to grow warmer, as well as the air was filled with a low audible hum, growing louder. Then, with a slight flicker, a tiny flame appeared on his fingers, but it did not stay a mere flicker. It grew large in a hurry, becoming a fire, and then a deep blaze, covering his hands. With a roar, Drake’s eyes opened, and he launched the sizzling ball of flame towards the jelly monster, exploding outward, in a concussion blast of heat. Jackpot. The horrendous eyesore began to shriek and wail in tortured agony, pulsating madly, trying to escape but with little success. It burned away into mere stains upon the floor.

That having been dealt with, Drake stepped over the remains, and found the next door. Unlocked, just as he had known it would be. Inside was nothing more than more stairs, and climbing them yielded nothing but another door, and another room beyond. However, as Drake passed into this room, and as the door clanged shut behind him, bolts and locks slipping into place, for perhaps the first time in his life, Drake felt shock. For standing across from him, in front of the door was another man. A man who looked very similar in dress and appearance.

It was a massive man, not quite as tall or as powerfully built as Drake, but still formidable looking. He was wearing the same kind of faultless silver armor, providing excellent protection but hindering movement somewhat. In his hands was not a huge two handed blade of silver, but a black sword of obsidian, a shining black stone. And his features were not fair and strong, but warped and tainted. This individual had black hair, but not the soft flowing black that most men have. This was greasy and ropelike, loose strands falling here and there, looking unkempt and unwashed. His face could have been handsome and fair, had his expression not been one of sinister happiness. An evil grin, watching and enjoying the stunned look on Drakes face. His eyes were of black, with there being but a tiny hint of flame dancing in the center, an evil flame of malice. Drake could only stand staggered and bewildered, his sword dangling loosely at his side, as he felt his hands have a slight degree of trembling. Finally, not wanting to, but not being able to hold it back any longer, Drake spoke one word. “Roland?”