The wall
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 4:41 pm
The first thought in his mind, as if the very inception of his consciousness: “Where am I?” The landscape before him, desolate, like nothing the man’s eyes ever witnessed loomed before, over and under. Thick, grayish smoke hung heavily and utterly dull in the wind still space around him. The man rose to his feet, his right hand still lingering around the now absent component pouch before strapped to a fine silken belt fastened around the man’s waist. It took a full minute for him to notice he was completely naked in the void, and even longer to realize he was no longer breathing. “What happened?” Asking himself, his voice boomed louder than anything the man had ever before heard, its pitch ascending to the point slender, meticulously groomed hands instinctively found their way to his ears to stop from going insane.
It returned to him abruptly, as if his entire fleeting existence was flung before his inner eye at once. “I was Armond….I died and now I am, where?”. Thought’s trailed off as glazed eyes scanned the void, nothing immediately apparent but thick, curling mist blanketing the impossibly desolate landscape. He so ventured forwards, towards the distant horizon. Armond after a while noticed on the edges of his field of vision, faded figures not unlike himself, wandering aimlessly through the blurred nightmare consuming them all. Trudging ever forward, time loosing essence, its very meaning, he wandered all too alike the lost souls in his company. Chancing upon a clearing in the loathsome fog, his squinting eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of what could be perceived a wall, though unlike any wall ever beheld by the living.
Skulls, stacked atop and beside each other to form the ungodly mockery of a brick wall, towered infinitely tall before the fallen souls unfortunate to behold it. The wails of the doomed souls within combined to form of sorts, a horrid, grotesque symphony sickeningly befitting the flagitious vision. The mere sight ushered forth an emotion deep and profound, equally alien as horrid. Despair, complete and all consuming hopelessness. The naked, failing form of what once a mighty mage was, slumped back to the irksome, omnipresent soil of that most dreary place. Drowning in an ocean of forlorn, down his cheek but a single tear strayed, descending to moisten impossibly arid dirt for but a fugitive instant. The mage knew his lot in death…
Here lay he for immeasurable time, caring no more as his distorted countenance dully surveyed the dreadful roof of haze which could be called a sky. His life again trailed past his pained inner eye, this time in much slower fashion. He could see the countless faces of people he had hurt, abandoned, deceived, used, abused, murdered… The sum of his sins painting a gruesome picture for his mind to behold forever more. Lying, suffering in his mental prison, he barely noticed the figure fading in from the distant haze. It approached agonizingly slow, its siluette shifting in kind with the fog as it seemed to target Armond for whatever malicious end it might serve. After what seemed an eternity in its own right, the figure settled, looming menacingly before the fallen malefactor.
The figure spoke with an eerily soft voice. Sickeningly soothing yet still devilishly malevolent in its disjointed nature, it came to him from insurmountable distance.
“Offer the one we know as Jaden before received”
“So we will give also..”
“Will he accept this time?”
The question was left lingering ominously in the broken mind of Armond for a time; he knew the figure and the question all too well.
“He will…” Armond replied after what might be regarded as considerable time, the weight of his voice threatening to drag him down into an oblivion he welcomed with all of his black heart.
The voice once more beckoned from immeasurable space.
“Serve, and prosper the one we know as Jaden will”
“Fail..”
Pain, sharp and absolute shot through the chosen one, hinting at what indescribable punishment failure would wreak upon him. The mage’s body writhed but his will was restored. So he rose once more from the useless abeyance he once succumbed so willingly to, now callously casting it from his mind.
As a mist, blacker than the deepest night poured from where the figure had been visible greeted him, he felt whole, a complete being once more. The darkness consumed all.
When it lifted, he found himself in familiar territory once more.
It returned to him abruptly, as if his entire fleeting existence was flung before his inner eye at once. “I was Armond….I died and now I am, where?”. Thought’s trailed off as glazed eyes scanned the void, nothing immediately apparent but thick, curling mist blanketing the impossibly desolate landscape. He so ventured forwards, towards the distant horizon. Armond after a while noticed on the edges of his field of vision, faded figures not unlike himself, wandering aimlessly through the blurred nightmare consuming them all. Trudging ever forward, time loosing essence, its very meaning, he wandered all too alike the lost souls in his company. Chancing upon a clearing in the loathsome fog, his squinting eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of what could be perceived a wall, though unlike any wall ever beheld by the living.
Skulls, stacked atop and beside each other to form the ungodly mockery of a brick wall, towered infinitely tall before the fallen souls unfortunate to behold it. The wails of the doomed souls within combined to form of sorts, a horrid, grotesque symphony sickeningly befitting the flagitious vision. The mere sight ushered forth an emotion deep and profound, equally alien as horrid. Despair, complete and all consuming hopelessness. The naked, failing form of what once a mighty mage was, slumped back to the irksome, omnipresent soil of that most dreary place. Drowning in an ocean of forlorn, down his cheek but a single tear strayed, descending to moisten impossibly arid dirt for but a fugitive instant. The mage knew his lot in death…
Here lay he for immeasurable time, caring no more as his distorted countenance dully surveyed the dreadful roof of haze which could be called a sky. His life again trailed past his pained inner eye, this time in much slower fashion. He could see the countless faces of people he had hurt, abandoned, deceived, used, abused, murdered… The sum of his sins painting a gruesome picture for his mind to behold forever more. Lying, suffering in his mental prison, he barely noticed the figure fading in from the distant haze. It approached agonizingly slow, its siluette shifting in kind with the fog as it seemed to target Armond for whatever malicious end it might serve. After what seemed an eternity in its own right, the figure settled, looming menacingly before the fallen malefactor.
The figure spoke with an eerily soft voice. Sickeningly soothing yet still devilishly malevolent in its disjointed nature, it came to him from insurmountable distance.
“Offer the one we know as Jaden before received”
“So we will give also..”
“Will he accept this time?”
The question was left lingering ominously in the broken mind of Armond for a time; he knew the figure and the question all too well.
“He will…” Armond replied after what might be regarded as considerable time, the weight of his voice threatening to drag him down into an oblivion he welcomed with all of his black heart.
The voice once more beckoned from immeasurable space.
“Serve, and prosper the one we know as Jaden will”
“Fail..”
Pain, sharp and absolute shot through the chosen one, hinting at what indescribable punishment failure would wreak upon him. The mage’s body writhed but his will was restored. So he rose once more from the useless abeyance he once succumbed so willingly to, now callously casting it from his mind.
As a mist, blacker than the deepest night poured from where the figure had been visible greeted him, he felt whole, a complete being once more. The darkness consumed all.
When it lifted, he found himself in familiar territory once more.