12/19/16

it was a cold winter evening. the chill of the air was sharp, tactile. a simple wave could send shivers up the arm.

it feels like i've been walking forever.

trudging through the snow and ice, looking for a light, in vain.
a glance at my phone revealed i had not a tenth of power left.
each breath was colder than

gusts of the frigid winds began to wear me down.

it almost felt as though i could feel my very core freeze.
as if my soul had became solid ice, waiting for me to collapse and shatter.

but just as soon as i thought it couldn't get any colder

in the distance, though the night was moonless, pitch black, there was a light.

it ran from head to toe.

something was scanning me.
reading me up, and down.
amber eyes pierced my very being.

the energy; the life in me returned.

i shuddered.
adrenaline rushed through me with the gaze.
and suddenly it all became so warm.
so warm.
the iced eyes drew closer.

i began to run.

"they would not catch me" i thought.

each lunge became more and more difficult.

i turned.

they were there, very near.

i drew my sword.

and with a flash of red, the smell of burning flesh; a blood curdling screech echoed across the tundra.

it was a monster of darkness. a beast of cold. a devil all its own.

the scent of sulfur and burned hair, but the beast, no where in sight.

it disappeared with the flash of red.

surely,

i am dead.

The Steppes Part 1

"So this is what it comes down to then? War?" a man clad in bronze whispers to his comrade. They both are perched upon the palisade enclosing an unimposing encampment in the outlying region of northern Macedonia.

"It seems so. Ever since the philosopher arrived at the camp, strange things have been happening. The air has grown cold and the grass near his tent has died." the comrade grumbles. Their attention is suddenly drawn to a tent with several foreign patterns stitched onto it. The entrance folds open and a man with a cyan garb appears from the tent. He is carrying two cubes with what appear to be runes.

"That's him. That's the one. The philosopher, Aristotle. He and his cubes. The commander said he crafted these walls with those." the bronze emblazoned man mutters. "Preposterous!" his comrade replies "You do not believe that to be true, do you Val?" "I've heard rumor from recruits from the southern provinces that he constructed the new fortifications there. Rumors or not, we shall see for ourselves, watch."

Suddenly, the ground near Aristotle begins to shake. His hands are moving faster than the eyes of the soldiers are able to see; they are a blur, a flurry of flesh and stone. They stop and the tremors around grow louder and louder. A stairway of earth rises in front of the philosopher, which he promptly climbs. He silently made his way to the two men.

"Any strange phenomenon occurring near or far from the walls my friends?" Aristotle inquires. "Nothing that we could notice. It is rather dark out." Val responds somewhat sarcastically. "Aside from those fissures you caused just now..." "Well, if you do happen to see anything that is not of my doing, be sure you raise the alarm immediately. There is trouble afoot. The oracle preaches of a great danger near. Even my instincts are warning me." Aristotle then turns and treads down his stairs, which crumble back into the earth with behind each step he takes.

Val and the archer remain vigilant throughout the night, finding nothing out the ordinary from their post. A fog rolls in as it nears dawn and their vision is obscured. Chanting is heard in the distance through the fog. The chanting excels to an uproar. It is a barbarian raid. Sparks and flames are now seen in the thick fog. The soldiers scramble towards the earthen gate to raise the alarm...

The Tartarian Emperor

Remus of Aventine

Let us feast upon the sight of this glorious, no, magnificent hall; home to the brother of the Aventine Hill, Emperor Remus. Vanquished from his hill, he now manifests the darkest reaches of the Underworld, Tartarus. Not long after he was slain on the Palatine hill, the blood that was left by Romulus drew back to Gaia. Gaia then gave birth to four, winged beasts. The monsters were coated with several different hides that radiated miraculous powers; one was engulfed in a blazing fire, another was crystallized freezing ice, the third was covered in scarlet blood that pulsated angrily, and the last was submerged in a hue of gold.

The furies though, had an obligation that need be fulfilled.

Remus roamed about the river Styx for months after his death, as he could not cross without the help of Hermes, but Hermes was at Rome, celebrating its founding with the Gods. It was up to Remus's children to escort him. These flying creatures came to be known as the Remian Furies. They are distinctively different to that of Uranus's furies. Their goal was to indirectly assist Remus with the vengeance against his brother. The four furies carried Remus across the banks of Styx. They then ventured deep down to the abysmal depths of the Underworld to reach what would be Remus's kingdom, Tartarus. When Remus and his retinue arrived at said dark and undesirable pit, they established the palace from which they would rule.

Out of the sheer cliffs of Tartarus, the Black Palace was founded.

Although, Tartarians were at first reluctant to their new self proclaimed ruler. The pitiful and unintelligent scum the inhabited Tartarus revolted for five horrible years. Remus was a man of virtue, in the beginning of our story, he only wanted to impress his brother. He built high walls to prove to his brother that they both were equals and that Remus was fully capable of protecting the people of his hill, but Romulus proved otherwise when he murdered him. By bringing about Remus's death, only more blood was to be spilled. Before entering the underworld, Remus knew not what to think. He was disowned by his own flesh and blood; his own brother had slain him. The furies turned him cold. They convinced him that he deserved to slay every single citizen of Rome. They all deserved death because of Romulus's idiotic and horrendous act. The furies all taught him important, yet abhorrent lessons. The fury of fire taught him rage and destruction. The fury of ice taught him that there was no mercy for any man, woman, child or beast that stand in the way of his path to glory, they were to be expelled from the path all the same. The fury of blood taught him to love the sight and taste of bloodshed and finally, the golden fury gave him the "gift" of greed. Remus needed all of these traits to attain victory over the Roman Republic on the surface world. With these traits, Remus grew in power and built an army to overthrow pockets and cells of resistance groups, to demonstrate that he was the emperor of the Underworld.

He grew to such a power, that not even Hades inquired of his actions.

Remus built an unstoppable army. It spanned the reaches of the Underworld, near and far from Tartarus. Supreme might fueled the Remian Empire, but their might could not depart them from the Underworld, an outsider was needed to open the gates for the army to leave. Remus called upon Greece for help. His cries for help echoed and oscillated to thousands of oracles on the surface, and finally, a client was reached. An oracle cried out to a philosopher by the name of Aristotle. From that day forward, it was he and his lexomancers' task to free Remus and save Greece.