Unit that time... enjoy...
Tome: When the Night Falls
Chapter 7 Continued...
Death wove through the fabric of time and space as but a shadow and so caused no disturbance to anyone or anything as he rode on its mists. Although he was angry, and his angriness almost made him disturb everything by jumping out at the wrong point in time.
In there he could see all of time itself and see space being woven far, far into the distance until it was out of his eyesight and everything became an inky blackness of empty madness and blurred with shining stars.
From here, Death could see that place, the place which must never be disturbed lest the Sorcerer’s darkest time be unfolded back into life. His son had done enough to stop that from happening. The worst thing was that it was his apprentice that had caused it.
Death had seen the pain in his Son’s eyes when he had witnessed that… So much pain. He gripped his staff with both hands tighter in comfort. That was something that he had not wanted to see nor confess to himself.
Although where he was going, it was before this. That place, although untouchable, was unstoppable and that time was coming ever so quickly. Quicker and quicker.
“I hate the 1st of December…” Death grumbled as he passed silently through the time frame to where he needed to be.
Then he stopped and peered into the ghosts of time and hesitated. Was this the time that he was supposed to be at? Was it here that he should be?
His memories were so old now… older than time. That was a very long time ago and yet no time at all. As a God, it was as if his future had been planned for him and implanted in his mind. It was his solemn duty to answer to this call and be there when that time came.
It was when Gods decided to break the Laws of Time that it became dangerous. Even Gods could become greedy with their power, much like human beings. There was only one time that Death had been forced to do this but that time was long gone and trapped away somewhere that not even he could remember where it was…
So he peered into the ghosts and saw Grosse Mann and Filius Mortis, brawling with each other to a very bitter ending. This was where he was supposed to be at this point in time. Death tentatively, carefully tore away at the ghosts revealing the true time and seeing the true colours. The blood of spirits still blackened Grosse Mann’s jaw and Mortis’s scythe still rotted in deep browns and ugly greens.
Death slipped into the room beside the most unassuming man as he hid, bleeding in the soil. Back down and pressing himself in a desperate attempt to hide. A Paladin did the same thing farther over, clutching its bleeding arm. Rarely had Death seen Paladins bleed so this was a teat for him.
As his form settled, the man turned around and looked straight at Death and his one eye gasping.
Death lay one long bony finger on his skull hushing the man before he could say anything and he disappeared into the shadows of the room before anyone else could notice. The master of Necromancy still displaying his unparalleled powers in his own, subtle way.
Number 47 looked over at Tiberius whom looked carefully over the soil hill as the soldiers of the Cult of the Mechanics watched attentively so did he. Although not the fight. At the soldiers.
Tiberius was waiting, even while he bled himself out for the perfect moment to strike them down. His hand not resting properly on the wound and ready to make a knee-jerk reaction to reach for his huge axe. The chain around his wrist rattled a little as he shuffled uncomfortably.
He was on edge and rightly so. Paladins were always on edge when they were fighting, if anything it helped them, that slightly paranoid look in their cold eyes filling them with the protective urge that drove them forward strike after relentless strike.
Number 47 let his own eyes gaze over the hill taking the occasional glance at the epic fight that was taking place. Mortis’s kick had killed most of the soldiers anyway as they were flattened under Grosse Mann’s body but the four-hundred and fifty year old entity refused to die as it got up from another bone breaking punch that the Bio-Mechanical sent its way.
Then it seemed as if it was all over with one great sundering blow that Grosse Mann landed. His jaw clamped around Filius Mortis’s shoulder and picked him up, the spirit of the Bio-Mechanical seeped out and black spirit blood drooled over Grosse Mann’s chin and fell in pools on the floor.
Cheers arose from the crowds of soldiers and then Death leapt out and flew over the soil hill shouting, “No more,” and flew into battle action himself.
Scythe flashing darkly as it spun around into a battle stance and rent a great gash through Grosse Mann’s shadowed suit and body. But the wound healed instantly and the two looked each other in whatever pair of eyes the two had left.
Death’s one eye and where Grosse Mann’s eyes would be had he had any…
They locked there for nothing but half a second before they were at each others throat with blade and claw. Necromancy and Haloed energy. God verses God.
Death wove through the fabric of time and space as but a shadow and so caused no disturbance to anyone or anything as he rode on its mists. Although he was angry, and his angriness almost made him disturb everything by jumping out at the wrong point in time.
In there he could see all of time itself and see space being woven far, far into the distance until it was out of his eyesight and everything became an inky blackness of empty madness and blurred with shining stars.
From here, Death could see that place, the place which must never be disturbed lest the Sorcerer’s darkest time be unfolded back into life. His son had done enough to stop that from happening. The worst thing was that it was his apprentice that had caused it.
Death had seen the pain in his Son’s eyes when he had witnessed that… So much pain. He gripped his staff with both hands tighter in comfort. That was something that he had not wanted to see nor confess to himself.
Although where he was going, it was before this. That place, although untouchable, was unstoppable and that time was coming ever so quickly. Quicker and quicker.
“I hate the 1st of December…” Death grumbled as he passed silently through the time frame to where he needed to be.
Then he stopped and peered into the ghosts of time and hesitated. Was this the time that he was supposed to be at? Was it here that he should be?
His memories were so old now… older than time. That was a very long time ago and yet no time at all. As a God, it was as if his future had been planned for him and implanted in his mind. It was his solemn duty to answer to this call and be there when that time came.
It was when Gods decided to break the Laws of Time that it became dangerous. Even Gods could become greedy with their power, much like human beings. There was only one time that Death had been forced to do this but that time was long gone and trapped away somewhere that not even he could remember where it was…
So he peered into the ghosts and saw Grosse Mann and Filius Mortis, brawling with each other to a very bitter ending. This was where he was supposed to be at this point in time. Death tentatively, carefully tore away at the ghosts revealing the true time and seeing the true colours. The blood of spirits still blackened Grosse Mann’s jaw and Mortis’s scythe still rotted in deep browns and ugly greens.
Death slipped into the room beside the most unassuming man as he hid, bleeding in the soil. Back down and pressing himself in a desperate attempt to hide. A Paladin did the same thing farther over, clutching its bleeding arm. Rarely had Death seen Paladins bleed so this was a teat for him.
As his form settled, the man turned around and looked straight at Death and his one eye gasping.
Death lay one long bony finger on his skull hushing the man before he could say anything and he disappeared into the shadows of the room before anyone else could notice. The master of Necromancy still displaying his unparalleled powers in his own, subtle way.
Number 47 looked over at Tiberius whom looked carefully over the soil hill as the soldiers of the Cult of the Mechanics watched attentively so did he. Although not the fight. At the soldiers.
Tiberius was waiting, even while he bled himself out for the perfect moment to strike them down. His hand not resting properly on the wound and ready to make a knee-jerk reaction to reach for his huge axe. The chain around his wrist rattled a little as he shuffled uncomfortably.
He was on edge and rightly so. Paladins were always on edge when they were fighting, if anything it helped them, that slightly paranoid look in their cold eyes filling them with the protective urge that drove them forward strike after relentless strike.
Number 47 let his own eyes gaze over the hill taking the occasional glance at the epic fight that was taking place. Mortis’s kick had killed most of the soldiers anyway as they were flattened under Grosse Mann’s body but the four-hundred and fifty year old entity refused to die as it got up from another bone breaking punch that the Bio-Mechanical sent its way.
Then it seemed as if it was all over with one great sundering blow that Grosse Mann landed. His jaw clamped around Filius Mortis’s shoulder and picked him up, the spirit of the Bio-Mechanical seeped out and black spirit blood drooled over Grosse Mann’s chin and fell in pools on the floor.
Cheers arose from the crowds of soldiers and then Death leapt out and flew over the soil hill shouting, “No more,” and flew into battle action himself.
Scythe flashing darkly as it spun around into a battle stance and rent a great gash through Grosse Mann’s shadowed suit and body. But the wound healed instantly and the two looked each other in whatever pair of eyes the two had left.
Death’s one eye and where Grosse Mann’s eyes would be had he had any…
They locked there for nothing but half a second before they were at each others throat with blade and claw. Necromancy and Haloed energy. God verses God.
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