Hi! This is Moat, and I present to you The Adventures of ArmorGames Book 3: The Fallen
The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen Chapter 1: What was... The young boy ran away. He didn't want to: it was like his legs had possessed the rest of him. He could see the illuminations of the fire and the screams of the others. He bit his lip as he slumped on the wood pile, exhausted and unable to run any longer, his legs burning. Only then did he allow the tears to flow, watching the fire burn down what was his home. And then, gripping his knife, he left.
Morbid da Literature! I go with whatevers really popular atm lol. Awww...don't cry*hands Papi a tissue* Yes, that tissue was laced with cyanide, if you're wondering.
Ok then. Cyanide is a lethal poison, or else it would've been had it not been nulled by your...lack of knowledge. I don't call my friends idiots. Ok, now I hand you a new tissue. This one's laced with strychnine. And if you're immune to strychnine, then it's arsenic. If you're immune to arsenic then it's botulinum. If you're immune to that then it's anthrax. And if you don't know any of those poisons, then you're killed by your own Poison Ignorance. Try to evade that one.
You mean my lack of terms. And I've heard of arsenic, but I don't really know what the rest is. And why would you try to kill me if I'm your friend...?
After days of letting the readers stew, I present to you the next chapter in The Fallen.
The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen Chapter 10: Blood and Bone
Deloric gasped for breath as he awoke. He glanced around, his dark eyes scanning the forests he was surrounded by. He saw a large, dark puddle of red liquid where he was laying. He quickly scuttled to his feet, then fell down again, his ribcage feeling split in two. His breath came out in great, choking, desperate, heaves. He realized that the puddle was blood, and that it was his blood. He stopped looking at his surroundings and instead at himself. He was covered in dried blood and bruises from head to toe. His dark hair was spiky with dried blood, and felt uncomfortable. But what he noticed most of all was the agonizing pain in his chest. It ached horribly when he was doing nothing, but when he so much as breathed it gave a great throb of pain. Deloric took his shirt off, and his worst fears were confirmed. His ribs were broken awfully. One of them had bent all the way, and its sharp bone point protruded somewhat from his chest. Deloric dared not touch it or do anything with it. He instead crawled miserably across the mud and feces in the forest, with a burning light in his eyes.
Deloric sat down. He had all the things he needed; blood(he'd gotten some in his bone-dry waterskin before leaving), bone(after hours of frightened anticipation and fear, Deloric had managed to get out the rib shard sticking out of his chest with pain he'd never imagined possible), and of course, a small unholy cross. He set it carefully on the ground. The small statuette model of the god Freyeuen, god of the dead, evil, and dark, stared back at him. Freyeuen's eyes reminded Deloric somewhat of his own, when he was in a rage. He found himself sinking into them, his rage and bloodthirst increased a thousandfold. But with a burst of willpower he heaved himself out of the trance. Praying to Moat(with some controversy) to let him do this ritual right, Deloric sprinkled his blood on the statuette and began to chant.
The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen Chapter 11: A New Awakening
Deloric felt possessed as he frantically chanted, the pain in his chest growing to unbearable. He screamed and thrashed on the floor as if having a seizure. Still the chants continued, as if they weren't coming from Deloric himself. He performed the ritual in this manner, praying that it would work.
Deloric stared up as a dark figure emerged from the shadows of the dark forest he'd been released in. Foam bubbled from the corners of Deloric's mouth and his eyes rolled up into his head. This wasn't caused by his broken ribs or any real pain. Seeing Freyeuen would cause madness if he didn't take pity on you. In which case you would become a practically immortal warrior, blessed by the god of death, darkness, and battle. Of course, that was only if Freyeuen was impressed with you. Deloric felt his consciousness slipping away, and struggled to hold on. He strained himself, and with a massive effort and a massive pain, stood up straight and tall. He stumbled a few steps, but steadied himself on a nearby tree. He managed to stop the foaming drool coming out of his mouth and focused his eyes. He dared to stare the lord of death and darkness right in the eyes, with a look of contempt in his face. The fear and pain Deloric had felt before was gone, replaced by a feeling of ultimate strength and self-confidence. He knew that Freyeuen hadn't given his blessing yet. This was Deloric's true power, coming out into the open. His eyes glowed with an intense, eerie fire, and he stepped closer to Freyeuen. The god of darkness disappeared when Deloric dared to swipe his hand at him. Deloric's hand was still left with an excluded, numb, feeling, as if it had just experienced extreme cold. At least his phantom fingers didn't hurt anymore this way. Soon, Deloric felt the ice crackling up his arm and through his body. Then it melted into him. He felt more powerful than just moments before. He was at his pinnacle, the ultimate warrior. A crusader of truth against this cruel world. A cruel world he was determined to end, and put its residents out of their suffering.
But as Deloric strode confidently through the forest, he felt a flash of darkness and doubt. As if a dark chasm had appeared where his heart and soul should be. Deloric shook it off. This was what he was meant to do.
The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen Chapter 12: A Darker Path
Deloric's stride hastened to a jog, then a sprint, then an immortal-like run. The winds whistled around him and he laughed, feeling the power coursing through him. He had no doubts now about his decision; Freyeuen had given him gifts of power beyond measure, and Moat, by extreme contrast, had crippled him(me: growls. Moat is total awesome, don't ever doubt that). And Deloric reached the camp borders once again, scowling with unmasked hatred and disgust at the place he had once loved and called home. He lifted the mighty sword he had built from just a twig above his head, and roared a battle cry. The time for vengeance had come. But not for vengeance against the people and things who had directly harmed him, but every wrong, lost, confused, evil person on that side. And he would right that wrong. He could kill them all. He could. And he would.
The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen Chapter 13: Battle
"He doesn't even know his own abilities yet," Cole argued with the Holy Guards sent to help him with the Deloric plight. "You don't know that for certain. Last you saw him, he was definitely on the road to the evil," snapped Zarok, an elder Knight. "Yes, but you know the prophecy as well as I do! He would at one point have a chance to destroy the world, and would at another point have a chance to save the world! So the fate of our world hangs in the balance!" said Cole, banging his gauntleted fist on the table. "Cole, it doesn't matter. He will have a chance to destroy this world, and it will be soon. We need to kill him before his power peaks. Because then, he will be unstoppable," said Zarok. His light blue eyes were filled with sympathy for Cole, but decisive. He had made his decision. "But it's a prophecy, Sir Zarok," said Cole sharply in return. "It's a prediction of the future, and it will happen, whether we try to stop it or not. I say we simply prepare ourselves, and try to convince Deloric to go down the right path." "This isn't the time to play the waiting game, Cole!" exclaimed Zarok. "We have the fate of the entire Internet in our hands. We cannot take such a gamble as to allow the prophecy to be fulfilled, and let the fate of the world be decided by one prophetic pivotal decision,made by a sixteen year old with anger issues and divided loyalties! We must act!" Zarok rebutted. "We wait," said Cole angrily. "We fight" argued Zarok, equally angry. Suddenly, there was a shout of warning and a shaking of the walls around the camp. "Deloric," whispered Zarok, shocked. "He's attacking."
Deloric felt an insane joy as he attacked the camp. He broke through the seemingly impenetrable outer defensive wall like it was nothing but putty, and moved on swiftly right into the camp. Campers defended their home desperately, wielding ragged, low-quality equipment. Deloric easily beat them. Instead of killing them, he disarmed them and tied them up. They didn't deserve to die; they could still be taught the right way. They weren't the ones he was after. He strode right into the command tent, where a troupe of Holy Guards and Cole stood, weapons at the ready. Deloric smiled darkly. "Hello, sir," he said broodingly to Cole.
