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Soli Deo Gloria
The hum of the battlefield had almost become nothing but background noise to them, but the hum of the dense anima deep down in the cavern still called them. It was at least in part why they all were here. The blue pillar-like stones that surrounded the place were stained with it and the density of it somehow made trees and plant life spring up underground. But staining this beauty were the marks, the corpses, the lifeblood of war.
Another unit of mostly undead reinforcements barreled down from the eerie Necropolis, crashing into a guard of elves and wolves and one worn-down automaton that had held it for the past half hour. The elves fell, and on the bridge mere feet away a grey-haired, deathly pale woman in spiked and skulled purplish armor cackled.
“Hehehehea! Finally, something to break the silence.” She held a bottle of strange swirling black mist in her hands, uncorking it and letting whatever dark substance was inside escape before shooting a playful glance at the Chosen of the now battered force.
“Be quiet, witch.” Retorting was a red-haired elf garbed in beautiful blue armor, across from her, standing next to the banner emblazoned with the beastly visage of Helwyr. “Those troops were weary. Soon they will know the true might of the Cywir - and all you creatures of darkness will meet your end.”
“Come now, Helwyn, your lot has been chasing my dearest Gregorovic for centuries,” She took a moment to signal to the banner bearing the odd mannequin figure “Some hunters you are for not catching him!” The elf merely glared at her in silence. “Oh…you can call me by my name, you know. It’s Carol. Just two little syllables!”
“Hmmph.” Next to speak was a hooded and dark-armored man, both a sword and a book hanging off his belt. “I should think any sensible warrior would see how you are failing in strategy. You should have watched…for our forces joining the fray.”
It was true. Though one of the wight archers had just raised his general’s banner on the anima pillar, soon a blood reaver knocked him down, followed by several ancient mages and warriors striking the wights down. There was screaming, the echo of lost souls, of soldiers uttering their final breaths. Now the banner of Gorvek’s great visage graced the checkpoint.
“A warrior so young does not have the time to learn of strategy, Sir Amaru. You are still merely a mortal, destined to soon die.” A man with oddly pinkish skin and with scant black hair and intricate, noble looking red armor turned to look, the fire surrounding him reminding the Zarosian of former days, when it was merely the cannons of Varrock and sometimes of the dwarves that left such traces of war.
“Karastus, you underestimate the power one has to learn wisdom from the past.” He said simply, almost without emotion. “We mortals can use our time quite well.” Sir Amaru subconsciously reached for the book at his side.
The Zarosians kept watch, looking across at the other checkpoint held by the followers of the traitor Zamorak, and of his chosen generals the Twin Furies. As if melded together, so too did their two faces make a whole on the fiery banner, now being guarded by bloodvelds and several Kinshra. They waited patiently to attack.
Yet, as Karastus so remembered, the two were once three. What other reason had he clawed up but to prove the lazy higher ups wrong, that the way of Zamorak was that of progress and not stagnation? How many centuries had he served them, even willing to wear a mere human form for a moment to bring recruits to their cause?
“Queen Mysanius…” He muttered, looking sad for merely a moment.
“Hmmph. You lost only one. Your god buried my family’s empire and wiped out nearly an entire noble race, the great Illujanka. The records of history found at the Digsite where Senntisten once was do not lie, demon. Perhaps what she suffered was justice.” If it were not a truce zone, Sir Amaru would likely have drawn his sword rather than the book at his side, which he began to peruse.
“Oh, how cute.” Carol said, watching as the mist filtered into the bottle again. “You know, you could just do as I did and invite our old dear master into your life. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about death! You could look at your books forever, all for the small cost of serving him…”
“QUIET. You will not be luring him further into the darkness.” Helwyn retorted. This was a truce zone, she had to remind herself. If she moved, if she attacked…she could not bear the look in her father’s eyes. She knew he had already lost enough. I need your tongue most of all now, my daughter.
“I had no intention on it. I have blessing enough for my cause.” Sir Amaru said, then putting away his book and resuming his scan of the maelstrom of a battlefield.
“Oh, what a shame, Carol said, laughing in a dissonant manner, now tossing the bottle up and down repeatedly. “He does keep his promises, you know. I asked to be with my hubby forever and he let me…” As she said the words in an almost singsongy, swooning way, it took everything in the other three to not vomit at the madwoman’s words. However, it was not vomit, but bile that rose in the throat of the Cywir’s heiress.
“Love? What do you know of love? You…You helped him! If it weren’t for you, my father would have been able to save the elves! He would have been able to live in peace! I would have taken his place…” Helwyn exclaimed. “You know nothing of love, you monster of a woman. You only breed madness.” Without realizing it, her clenched fist had changed into the blue claws and fur of a beast. She quickly changed it back. Now is not the time for you to fight.
Helwyn looked out over her shoulder. For all her seeming lack of control, the outburst evidently gave a squadron of elves the morale to tear down another of the Faceless One’s banners. Even though some Nechraeyl and a stray hellhound or two were scouting the area, the elves eagerly awaited reinforcement to take more ground.
However, a new sound interrupted them. The subtle grinding of chains and a descending shadow informed them that they would soon not be alone.
“The chaos of Zamorak still reigns. We will prevail and weed out those who are weak…and those who have potential will rise to the top.” Karastus said, regaining his vigor.
“We shall see, demon. The Empty Lord watches over us all, and will guide our fates to victory.” Sir Amaru proclaimed.
“The light of Seren will drive you back to the shadows, and the Cywir shall live forever.” Helwyn recited.
“Hehehe, you are all fools. Nothing stands between my love, my master, and domination.”
It was the subtle echoes of the madwoman’s laughter that greeted the next entrant into the Heart of Gielinor’s ears.