Donzo

I need to smoke whatever you're having.

Done.

I dunno if it was intentional, but I think this works kinda well with mine.

It also makes me think of an event I'd get playing Stellaris about some gelatinous/molluscoid aliens; pretty neat.

Our world is broken, and no one is left to pick up the pieces.

The war to end all wars turned rivers to dust and forests to ash. The grand cities we built are now filled only with the echoes of our forgotten dreams. Each planet we had tread, now left as a memorial of bone and glass.

Steel skeletons loom ever silent as eternal monuments to our sins. The avarice, the apathy, and the ignorance all but guaranteed our oblivion. We gnawed and tore away at our only mother with reckless abandon; she gave us all she had, and we took all we could.

The fate of humanity was condemned to toil, bleed, and weep, all while burning as brightly into the night as we could. However, in the end, destiny would have us snuff ourselves out as if we were a candle at the end of our wick. We yearned to reach into the galaxy, to colonize, discover, and multiply. Alas, we were but only a child that had grown tired of our favorite toy.

No different than a malignant cancer, we spread and consumed all in our path, leaving only barren husks in our wake. For all the so-called good we achieved, it was only ever for our gain. So blinded by our immense arrogance, by our own majesty, did we forsake the mantle of responsibility as intelligent creatures to keep in harmony with the cosmos.

Our gravest failure was the legions upon legions of those under our care, forced straight into damnation with us. For every step we took, countless souls were crushed beneath our heels, and we were deaf to their cries. The weight of innumerable evils sat upon our shoulders, yet we were numb to the burden.

We, humanity, remain bare before any and all who deign to gaze upon us. We seek no forgiveness, for we can no longer receive retribution. Our story is one of good intentions and one of timeless scars.

So, here on this cracked tomb that was once called our home, we built this enduring monolith in our final days; so that any who come to visit our grave can see what we wrought. Know that this was our fate, that we attained heights beyond comprehension, unraveling the secrets of the stars. Until finally, we fell from the heavens and into the abyss.

The universe called to us, and we answered. It promised us power and freedom tied to a greater hunger than we could ever hope to satisfy; indeed, it delivered. If only we had realized that what we needed was actually salvation.

This is our testament.

This is not an invitation.

This is a warning.

Hmm... looks tournament legal to me! Lol

Lmao, it's the universe trying to get you to focus in class my guy.

Lmao, just my luck. 

This was inspired by an anime I watched as a kid called Densetsu no Yuusha no Densetsu.

A thousand years have come and gone, and yet here I stand; at the edge of all that was and ever will be. I have crossed vast seas and deserts in search of the one who will complete the cycle. So many have tried to take my mantle, and all have failed; now, countless dead lie in my wake.

I have nowhere else to go, and I grow ever weary. Looking down into the abyss below me, I recall the name of this place. The Maelstrom of Zahd. A wicked expanse, created by a twisted mage over two millennia ago, it is said to have split the world in twain with its ferocity. Strangely I find it captivating, a force so absolute and uncaring, here to wreak havoc for all time.

I gaze into the unending pandemonium below, watching as floating boulders the size of mountains swirl and crash into each other. Abruptly, I am pulled from my wonderment by the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning around, I see three hooded figures clad in black coming my way from the dark tree line. I recognize the situation, for I have seen it hundreds of times now; it marked the approach of challengers.

"So you've come to test your mettle then?" I ask the figures with indifference, my voice carrying over the wind.

The leftmost of them unhoods themself. It is a young woman, no older than twenty-five winters. Her black hair is tied into a ponytail, and she stares at me with emerald eyes filled with animosity. 

She shouts her response. "Take off that blindfold, so you can see those who will best you! If you truly are Red-Eyes!"

I force a somber smile. "I can see well enough, but I will grant your request."

I place both hands behind my head and begin to untie the crimson blindfold I have worn since I was cursed so long ago. Suddenly the girl leaps into action, sprinting across the short distance between us, unsheathing her eastern blade. The central figure is unmoving, but the rightmost one follows her lead, their faces still obscured.

She is incredibly quick on her feet, but not quick enough. As the blindfold falls from my face, I return her glare with my own. In an instant, she stops in her tracks; her blade slips from her hand into the dirt below. An expression of abject horror creeps onto her face, and tears begin welling up in her eyes.

I never knew what it was like to look into the eyes of a Bearer. From what I could gather over the years, it is different for every person, some see their greatest unimaginable fear, and others are compelled to actions against their very nature. From time to time, it is something completely new, being one of the few things that have kept me interested over the ages.

The girl drops to her knees, whimpering; the cloaked figure on the right also stops their advance. She keeps trying to tear her eyes away from mine to no avail. 

Her voice is choked with terror, and she croaks out. "S-Stop... please."

"Do you wish to look away?" I ask in a melancholic tone.

Her eyes are wide open as she sobs an answer. "Y-Yes."

I sigh. "Then, look away."

The young woman on her knees begins to let out a low guttural moan from the depths of her being. Slowly, her eyes start to roll back into her head as her moan morphs into a scream. She jerks and shakes as she tries to pull herself away from me, with no success. Finally, with a howling screech, she reaches up to her head with both arms and twists her neck, resulting in an ultimate crack followed by a thud as she lies on the ground. 

The air now carries an eerie silence; both remaining figures remain motionless. I look at the cloaked one to the right and notice the white-knuckled grip of their longsword still in its scabbard. 

"Reveal yourself! Look me in the eyes you came here for." I yell, commanding the rightmost one; my patience is wearing thin.

Both hands grasping the longsword begin shaking, and they yell back, "I-I won't! You demon!" it is a male voice, and one that cracks with panic.

Most who know of Bearers think that they have to lock eyes with one to become ensnared in their curse. However, that is not entirely true. 

My blood begins to boil at this man who came here to end my life and steal my eyes. Now at the precipice of what he desires, the craven refuses to look at me. Furious, I raise up my hands overlapping each other, then place them over my eyes, leaving a small gap for my right eye.

With disgust, I shout back. "Then you shall scatter in the wind, for you are nothing."

I feel a twinge of pain in the unobstructed eye as my vision flashes searing red. I watch as the fearful would-be killer's upper half bursts into a cloud of blood and gore. His sword goes careening through the air like a silver shooting star. Soon after, followed by the patter of the remaining shredded entrails raining upon the ground around him. Like the girl before him, the last act of his downfall is the thud of his lower half into the blood-soaked dirt.

Lowering my arms, I take in a deep breath and glance over at my final opponent.

"What say you?" I ask of the lone hooded figure. "Will you weep and beg for mercy, or will you cower and refuse my gaze?"

They take some steps forward before unhooding themself. It is a woman, likely just shy of thirty winters. Her hair is elegant ivory, and she looks upon me with sorrowful lavender eyes; a subtle scar traces over the bridge of her dainty nose.

"Neither." The now-revealed woman says with conviction. "I am here to take your place, Declan."

I feel as if my breath has been stolen from my lungs. 'Declan' she says. I have not heard that name in over five hundred years.

Now filling with anxiety, I asked guardedly. "How? How do you know that name? That name and the one who carried it have been dead to the world for eons."

Still walking towards me, she responds kindly. "He came to me in a dream; He showed me all that you have done, all that you have endured." 

Once close enough, she places her hands on my shoulders and looks right into my eyes. "My name is Vale, and He gave me the gift to take away your burden, the gift to complete the cycle." She gives me a slight smile. "You know who I speak of."

"I do." Again, I sigh. "I had lost hope this day would ever come."

Realizing what must now be done, I ask. "Are you prepared?"

She nods. I place my hands on her shoulders peering directly into her gaze and relax. Moments pass before I feel the heat rise behind my eyes. Suddenly, a torrid agony radiates within my skull as I pass on the mantle to Vale. Every second feels like a year has passed as I scream in torment. Finally, it is done as the light leaves my vision for the last time.

"Thank you," I whisper breathlessly to her. "the cycle is complete, and I am free."

I feel her hands leave my shoulders, and the wind picks up again. Here at the edge of the world, my punishment is over.

"Would you like me to end it quickly?" She asks solemnly.

I ponder for a moment. "No, I believe I will take care of it myself." I look up at where her voice is coming from. "Good luck on the path; may you finally atone as I have."

"Thank you." She whispers, kissing me on the forehead before slowly walking back the way she came.

Alone with my thoughts and a strengthening gale, I set my metaphorical sights on my final act. Slowly, I shuffle behind where I stood, not used to my newfound affliction of unsight. Finally, I feel my feet rest upon the cliff edge again.

A thousand years have come and gone, and yet here I stand; at the edge of all that was and ever will be. I have crossed vast seas and deserts in search of the one who will complete the cycle, and at last, they have found me. I take one step and plunge into the great unknown, content, now and forever.

This one kinda got away from me, if it's too long feel free to lemme know.

It had been three days since Jeyne had last seen sunlight, she was miles upon miles into the fortress depths with no sign of it ending anytime soon. Barely any rations remained in her satchel, and her torchlight had begun to waver. Becoming ever so weary, her eyes were awfully pained in the dim light, squinting for the ever so slight chance at hope.

Feet shuffled along the stone floors, kicking up clouds of thick dust with every step. She had already left behind the main pieces of her holy armor, an act that filled her with shame. However, she could bear the weight no longer, and in her mind, if she lived to redeem the sacrilege, it would be worth it.

Her mouth became ever drier, every breath becoming increasingly ragged. Her waterskin was now empty signaling she would soon perish. Stumbling down the dark corridor, with flickering light, she began to recall why she was there in the first place.

One week prior she was the proud member of a troupe of warrior-nuns, an honor she had held since she was four years of age. Now she was a disgraced harlot in the eyes of her fellows. She thought back to her judgment at the Monastery of Elessia de Cœurest.

“I hereby begin the sentencing of Jeyne de Blanfleur!” shouted an elderly nun standing atop a marble platform, behind an ornate, wooden lectern.

Jeyne remembered the feeling of immense humiliation as she sat in the middle of the chapel, on her knees, shackled. Instead of her elegant mail and plate armor, which she had worn since her eighteenth name day, she now wore drab rags that could have once been called clothing. Her sisters-in-arms surrounded her, standing silently, their eyes a mixture.

Some looked ashamed of her, others in disgust, a few even with anger. All of their eyes pierced through her, she would have rather been dead at that moment.

The old nun began to read aloud from her lectern once more, “For the crime of fraternization with the enemies of the Gods, you have been condemned with exile!” she then looked up from her parchments and into the eyes of Jeyne. Nothing but cold contempt.

“May the Gods have pity on your wicked soul,” She spoke with venom. “if not, then may the Great Chained One take you.”

That was the worst day of Jeyne's life, at least, so far. Soon after she was driven out of the monastery that she had called home for so many years. She was permitted nothing but her armor and weapons, along with some survival supplies. The last segment of her punishment was that she was to be exiled into the depths of Mor-Kazan.

It was an ancient fortress that stood nearby, long before the monastery was ever built. The legends of old say that great horned devils once lived there, but Jeyne nor any other living person she had ever met could back up these claims. 

Jeyne was suddenly torn from her memories and back into her dire situation when she fell and tripped upon the cold hard floor. She began to quietly sob, cursing her life that she ended up here of all places, to die at the young age of twenty-one. Despite her grief, no tears would come, for her body could not spare the vital resource.

After some moments she resolved into continuing on. With a heavy heart, she decided to shed the remainder of her steel armor, keeping only the light gambeson underneath. Once more she trudged on down the deep, dark hallways of Mor-Kazan.

With every step she felt closer to death, closer to rest, nothing sounded sweeter than to finally be at ease. When she had almost resigned herself to the end, she saw it. A lone oaken door just ahead, it looked aged far beyond her years, but she prayed to all the gods it led anywhere but here.

Clumsily she rested upon the heavy door and poured every ounce of her strength into opening it. Suddenly it gave way, leading Jeyne to loudly crash into the unforgiving floor. Her torch was sent flying from her left hand and across the room, she was now lying in. Some moments passed as she regained her energy and rolled over off her back.

On the other side, she spotted the thrown torch lying on the stone floor, slowly she crawled to it, and her underside began to become even more filthy as she writhed among the dirt and detritus on the ground. As she reached the source of ever-so-dimming light, something finally caught her eye.

Standing tall, all alone in this dark room was a mirror. One so beautiful that even near death, Jeyne could not tear her eyes away. In a way, it was so captivating that it gave her some semblance of peace that she could die in the presence of something so divine. The frame, made from what looked like ivory and gold was something to behold, the intricate designs of the carvings were like nothing she had ever seen. It was as if the greatest angelic poems or scriptures had been turned into that lonely mirror.

Forgetting all about her dropped torch, she dragged herself ever closer to the source of her wonderment. It was as if it was calling out to her; perhaps she was delirious, but she did not care, for what did she have to lose at this point? This room would be her final resting place, she now knew it.

All she wanted to do was touch it, to feel it; to come into contact with something that had to have been crafted by the Gods themselves. Then she would be at peace, she was certain. Ignoring her wretched self in the reflection, her once golden hair was now dull and lifeless from the grime coating her entire being. Finally, she placed her hand upon the cool mirrored glass and became still.

Jeyne hoarsely croaked out. “Thank you.”

The mirror remained unresponsive, just as it had for the lifetimes it had stood there. Enthralling, everlasting… inevitable.

Then, all at once, a swift wind tore through the once quiet room Jeyne was lying in. A chilled breeze turned the room into a whirlwind of noise. Jeyne’s eyes shot open and she tried to grasp what was happening; the mirror began to glow a dull white, and the glass began to shimmer and become almost fluid as her hand began to sink into the reflective material.

She tried to pull her hand out but she was too exhausted, slowly but surely it dragged her into the glistening doorway that was once just a dormant mirror. Overwhelmed by everything that was going on, Jeyne lost consciousness, the last thing she could recall was that she felt great fear but also a sense of acceptance.

In her dreams, she saw herself soaring through the stars, flying past great clouds, twinkling with starlight. She no longer felt tired, hungry, or great thirst; instead, she herself was now filled with serenity and astonishment.

After some time she awoke from her slumber in a slight daze, her body was now a wintry cool, and with a slight, crisp wind flowing over her. Jeyne opened her eyes, and could not believe what she saw.

She was now sitting atop a hill covered with patches of snow, bushes of red berries dotted the landscape with evergreen trees towering all around, still capped with white powder. Her breathing let out great mist clouds into the air, as she looked down at herself, she was no longer filthy and was even wearing her holy armor once again.

“By the heavens,” Jeyne quietly gasped. “where have I found myself?”

Looking around, she took in the rest of her surroundings. In the distance lie mighty mountains, kissing the sky with their snow-covered peaks. A cerulean lake rested below, fed by the mighty waterfalls coming from the nearby heights. Masses of ice float around the surface of the water as bright white rafts. Finally, on the shores of the lake lay a humble town, columns of chimney smoke reached high into the winter air, as she watched the townsfolk going about their day.

Jeyne stood up, dusted off the snow from her shining steel armor, her golden hair flowing in the breeze.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” She said assuredly to herself. “but I think I’m going to like it here.”

She began to stride down the hillside and towards the town, and hopefully into a new beginning.