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He might need some dental works done too... those gums look painful O_o Other than that... Mr. Smiley creeps me out, in a happy way

Figured I'd post The Fallen on ML, it's dark enough to fit in. But I decided to torture you all, and post just one chapter. And the story isn't even done yet. Aren't I evil?
But if you want the full scoop, check out The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen, in the AMW section.

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.

Anyone like my animations? Just wondering.

I do! I like them tons!
They reminded me a lot of the True Stick Death series. Check it out here and here.

Any submissions? Anyone? I'm busy catching up to The Fallen before I get eaten alive, so I won't be able to post anything new here until I finish that.

Here's another one. The stick falls and dies XD

Pretty good lit, guys. I must say, I am thoroughly impressed. Here's a poem I wrote a while ago. It's short, but I'm proud of it. PLz comment?

[/b]Hysteria

What's this world coming to,
when questions go unasked.
When nothing is sacred,
When nothing ever lasts.

When no promises are kept,
Where wounds continue to bleed.
In the era of the people wept,
Weakness sows its seed.

The war, the violence.
The prayers ignored.
When will there be a white knight,
wielding a gleaming sword?

Where are we going?
How are we here?
How can we progress,
when all we know is fear?

I leave you with these thoughts,
these sudden realizations.
Staring down the mouth of hell,
into certain damnation.

Good PolarX, nice imagery.

Thanx, Bronze.

Another one I did a while ago.

Divide the Mind

All that shimmer is not gold.
Rare kindness in a world so cold.
Relentless, fearless, my heart is black.
Who is the next to be attacked?

The river of blood will always flow,
As long as tentions continue to grow.
Weapons and bombs, we continue to make.
Those souls are not for us to take.

You must divide the mind
to find the unified sign of those unborn.
You must divide the mind
to find the unified sing of those so scorned.

Another death, another life taken.
A tainted heart is not worth breakin.
A bomb leaves even the strong so shaken.
Leaving families to live lives achin.

You must divide the mind
to find the unified sign of those unborn.
You must divide the mind
to find the unified sing of those so scorned.

Burning, hating.
Hell is waiting.
Leave now with some retribution.
Before we collect our constitution.

Very nice, Polarx. I like the first one the best, flows well and has a good meaning.
I have broken my AG-vow of no-lit. I can't stay away from writing dark literature, even though this one's not so dark. Tell me what you think!

Walking through the open door
I won't bow down anymore
And we are still reeling
From the revelations
But we are still gonna kneel
I won't bow down
To a darkened man
I won't help sow
The seeds of the (d-ed)
And I can feel
That this is the end
And we all know
That these wounds won't heal
But we just gotta trust what we feel
Or else we end up on death row

Nice, but I am curious about the "(d-ed)".

Ah yes. I don't like when my words are bleeped out because then, it's harder to tell what it was. So I do the first letter in parentheses. Makes it easier, and my AG swearing record remains clean.

The Adventures of ArmorGames 3 is finished! So now I post the dark tale on here. Tell me what you think.

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.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 2: A Quest

Deloric gritted his teeth as Marle's huge sword swung in an arc at his head. He ducked, and slashed back and forth at his opponent's legs. Marle leapt back, and attempted a killing overhead blow. Deloric parried, and jabbed at Marle's chest. Marle deflected Deloric's light rapier, and made a thrust of his own. Easily sidestepping, Deloric feinted a sideswipe. Marle sidestepped that, and then, Deloric flicked his sword up in a swipe that would've cut off Marle's left arm, had they not been using dull swords with the edges covered with wood.
"Very good, Deloric!" praised his mentor. Deloric bowed his head respectfully in acknowledge of the praise. He was a quiet lad, especially for 16; the age when most would be full of energy and still impatient and curious. But of course, Deloric was different. His mentor, Cole, could see that easily. Sent off to the war at a very young age, Deloric had learned an elite swordsman's skills at just seven. But there was a price to pay. Deloric wasn't arrogant, like Marle, the other best student, but he was highly antisocial and had an explosive rage that surfaced easily. He was obsessed with revenge and becoming a better swordsman, and that worried Cole. Deloric had a fairly vacant sense of morality.
"You got lucky," spat Marle, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Deloric laughed and gave his sword back to Cole. Still laughing, he left and went back to the tent. Cole eyed him carefully. The sixteen-year old was the greatest swordsman he'd ever seen: but he was going down a dark path. Should Cole train him, and give him power? Power he didn't deserve?

Deloric kicked off his thick leather boots in the apprentices' tent. Marle stomped in after him, in high dudgeon. The younger, junior apprentices eyed the elder ones' moods carefully, and quietly retreated from the tent. They had seen the twos' fits of rage before, and it was not something they wanted to be in the middle of. The senior apprentices; Luke, Allessia, and Tyren, glanced at them too, but stayed. They weren't afraid of the rival sixteen-year olds.
"You just got lucky," Marle repeated
"Whatever," muttered Deloric, pulling the rough, too-small blanket over himself and lying down on the dirt.
"Hahaha. I told you. You just got lucky," Marle spat, trying to get a rise out of Deloric. Luckily, Deloric didn't have a pride like Marle.
"I heard you the first time," sighed Deloric.
"I don't think you did," Marle said, getting up. Deloric shook his head and sat up, pulling the blanket off himself. The senior apprentices left them alone. The rivals would have to settle their dispute someday.
"Believe what you want, Marle," said Deloric. "Just let me sleep. It's getting dark."
"Yeah, it is getting dark. But just say it. You only got lucky," Marle argued
"Look, Marle. Just let it go. I won," said Deloric, shaking the dirt out of his short brown hair.
"No, you didn't. You just got lucky. Your parents weren't so lucky," Marle spat. The older apprentices winced. That was a low blow. Deloric had watched his parents' house burn to the ground, with his parents inside. And this time, Deloric did get mad. He stood up and grabbed Marle by his collar.
"What did you say?" he growled.
"Your parents. Or maybe they were lucky, just like you. They just were too stupid," Marle said. He was getting frightened of Deloric, whose eyes were narrowed and practically glowing with rage, but he was too vain to back down, especially in front of his rival and the other apprentices. But this was the last straw. Deloric threw Marle to the ground.
"Don't mention them. And not like that," he said, gritting his teeth to control the fury building up in him.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I offend you? Your parents don't mind. They're six feet under the ground with worms crawling through them," Marle said sarcastically. Deloric clenched his fists by his sides and approached Marle again. The senior apprentices sighed and started to get up. Apparently, they would have to stop this.
"Hey, Marle," said Luke. "Let it go. Deloric won fair and square; we all saw it." Unfortunately, even though Luke's intentions were good, he'd said just the wrong thing. Marle grew even worse.
"Well, maybe he won. Maybe he won fair and square, with some luck. But he's still a coward. Because you watched your parents burn to death with the screams echoing in your ears. And you didn't help them. You just ran away like the little coward you are," taunted Marle. The senior apprentices gasped in shock. Marle had never taunted like this before, but as the apprentice choosings were coming up, he was probably getting more desperate and aggressive, striving to prove himself worthy. But this time he'd just gone too far. Deloric snapped. He dove onto Marle, raining his strong fists down on the other apprentice. Allessia, Luke, and Tyren jumped to their feet and tried to pull him off of Marle. But not even Tyren, with his giant strength, couldn't pull the enraged Deloric off poor Marle. Blood spattered the leather walls of the tent. Luke ran to Cole.
"Deloric!" sputtered Allessia. "Get off him!" But Deloric had lost control. He punched and kicked and bit, not even aware of what he was doing. A red film enveloped his view, and he kept beating up Marle. Cole came racing in. Together, the three apprentices and the mentor managed to haul Deloric off and away from Marle. Deloric struggled, but the four held him at bay. Marle's carrot-orange hair was soaked with blood, his neat clothes splattered with red and his once handsome face was black and blue and swollen already; the nose smashed like a lightning bolt. Deloric, his hands and arms covered with blood, shook his head, dazed. He blinked, looked at Marle, and looked at his own hands. He gasped, then his face hardened. It showed no sympathy or surprise at all. Just a cruel satisfaction.
"Deloric," said Cole, looking, horrified, at Marle. "You are banned from this camp forever on."
"Wait!" exclaimed the camp mage. "I have an idea. If Deloric goes on a quest...he might be able to return to camp as a better person."
"Deloric?" asked Cole, still furious at both his apprentices(but Deloric in particular, obviously).
"Ok," said Deloric, his dark eyes still looking at Marle's unconscious body with an air of dark satisfaction. "I'll go on the quest."

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 3: A Lost Battle

The cold winds whistled into Deloric's face, and he pulled his hood down. It didn't do anything to stop the chilling winds. Deloric's breath came out as white fog. He trudged along the snow-buried path. He was unbearably cold even through his thick tunic, but controlled himself, stopping from chattering his teeth or shivering. Finally, after hours of enduring the chilling winds of the northern thread of Forum Games, Deloric reached Warriors RPG. He walked slowly into the town, his freezing legs stiff. He walked slowly into the warm tavern. Needles pricked into his limbs as he regained the feeling in them. The barkeeper smiled at him.
"Hello," said the barkeeper. "You must be the apprentice Cole sent me?" Deloric scowled, and nodded.
"Well, I'm glad you're here. The ice wyvern is really giving us trouble," said the bartender, attempting a friendly smile. Deloric scowled even more.
"Where is it?" he said.

Deloric gritted his teeth. The cold penetrated his bones. The ice wyvern agitated the cold. Winds whirled and screamed around Deloric like a blizzard. The young apprentice's brown eyes could barely see his own hand, but he still approached the frost dragon with rapier drawn. The wyvern flicked his huge, ice tail. Deloric just barely dodged. He swung his rapier at the tail, but the ice was hard and his low-quality sword didn't so much as scratch it. Then, the dragon flicked its tail the other way, lighting-fast, and it made solid contact with Deloric. Several ice shards from the tail came off and lodged themselves in his chest, and he went flying from the impact and landed hard, blood pooling around him and steaming in the freezing snow and storms.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 4: Unrest

Deloric awoke. His chest was bound with soft cloth. He felt a strange sensation on some of his fingers. He felt warm, and a strange stinging sensation came from his whole body, but was aggravated on his feet, hands, nose, and ears. He sat up, but immediately laid back down. He had an enormous headache and a fever. He steeled himself, and sat back up, ignoring the pain and the urge to lay back down on the soft bed. He looked at his hands and feet. They were wrapped in cloth just like his chest. After struggling, he managed to unwrap the cloth on his fingers and simply sat there and stared. Then, he swore explosively. He was missing the thumb on his left hand, the middle finger on his right hand, and the pinky on his left hand. He gingerly felt the nubs with his remaining fingers. The phantom fingers burned and stung. He stared in shock, then recovered somewhat. Still in a bit of a trance, he unwrapped the cloth on his feet, struggling. He bit his lip. He was missing several toes. All he had left on his feet were the big toe on his right foot and the second-smallest toe on his left foot. Shaking and not realizing it, Deloric stared. Shoving himself mentally, the sixteen year old slowly unwrapped the cloth on his chest. This damage wasn't so bad. Several gashes were present. The wounds hurt badly, but the blood-caked stitches seemed to be doing their job holding the skin together.

Finally, about ten minutes later, Deloric collected himself somewhat. He yelled.
A doctor,looking to be about thirty, and wearing the doctors' beak-like, frightening mask, walked in.
"Oh, good, you're awake!" he said. Deloric pointed.
"What the hell happened to me?" he growled.
"Frostbite. We had to amputate or else you could die. And the stitches are from the ice shards lodged in your chest. The surgery actually went quite well," said the doctor. Deloric sat up angrily and gripped the doctor's collar with his remaining fingers. The doctor pried his fingers off easily, Deloric's strength greatly diminished and the doctor clearly experienced with patients angry or shocked at what had happened. The mayor walked in.
"Oh, good, you're awake," said the mayor jovially. A usually-antisocial Deloric turned plain hostile.
"What do you want?" he said angrily.
"Oh...well. I thought you should know," said the mayor. Deloric's headache and fever flared, and he struggled to stay up. He didn't want to show weakness in front of others, though, so he managed.
"What?" he growled, quieter.
"Well, the wyvern got more aggressive after it attacked you," started the mayor, obviously feeling uncomfortable.
"What?" repeated an impatient apprentice.
"You're in Operation: Liberate right now..." said the mayor
"Well, what?" said Deloric impatiently. He tried to tap his fingers, but couldn't for the lack of most of them.
"The wyvern destroyed the entire town of Warriors RPG. Everyone living there died," said the doctor sharply, cutting across the mayor, stuttering and trying to get the message across. The doctor left,and the mayor gave Deloric a sympathetic glance, then left after the doctor.

Deloric laid back down on his bed. And he cried for the first time in fifteen years.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 5: Return of the Fallen

About a week after his horrific discovery, Deloric felt ready to get up and out of bed. Hell, if he thought about it, he figured himself ready to fight. Fight that dragon and send it right back where it belonged. And get his revenge. He told the doctor this, however, and got a different reply.
"Definitely not," said Dr. Hynamen, glancing at Deloric's still-open chest wounds. Deloric followed his eyeline.
"They're almost all healed. They don't hurt anymore," Deloric said. The last statement was a total lie; they stung and hurt a lot. Hynamen didn't buy it, but seemed to favor him.
"Ok," said the doctor. He grunted as he picked up something heavy. "If you can lift this above your head, I'll pronounce you ready to go." Feeling confident, Deloric took the heavy weight in his hands, and gasped at its weight. He struggled to heave it up, and got it to his chin. But then, his muscles tired, and he dropped the weight.
"Sorry, kid. You're not ready to go. Your body is still recovering and your muscles are still tired. You're not taking a step out of this bed," said Dr. Hynamen decisively. Deloric waited until he left, and grabbed the weight again. He laid down, and held it just above his chest. And he kept it there for hours and hours, until the doctor returned. Then, he quickly dropped it. This he continued for days. Then, he started getting up and walking around. At first, it was just a few wobbly steps. But he got accustomed to his weakness,and learned how to keep most of the weight off his feet and legs. Then, jogging. Running. Lifting the weight above his head. Soon, even in his weakened state, Deloric could do all of this easily. Deloric even used sticks to practice his sword fighting. And soon after that, about a week or so after Deloric's failed attempt to lift the weight, Dr. Hynamen pronounced him ready for combat.



Deloric felt shaky. And this time, it wasn't his injuries. The wyvern was not too far from him, tromping around in the powdery snow. Why had he wanted to battle this thing again? Deloric held his head high, stopped the shaking, and sent a silent prayer to Moat to help him. He slowly approached the wyvern. It lashed its tail to and fro, not even noticing him. Still, he found himself having to dodge the tail. He had spent hours that he wasn't training in some way picking apart what he had done the first time, and finding what he'd done wrong.
First, he'd approached the wyvern when it was against his own advantage; when visibility was limited and the ice dragon was in its own territory. This time, his plan was to slowly lure it back to a warmer, less snow-covered land, where the wyvern would have less power and he would be able to see, and be unafraid of the cold.
The second mistake was that he'd focused too much. First he had dodged the tail, then he had slashed with his rapier, then...that was when the wyvern got him. So this time he would look at the entire body, and not focus on one thing, just pay strict attention to everything.
Third was his choice of weapon. He'd attacked it with a low-quality rapier that couldn't even pierce it. This time, the blacksmith had given him a much heavier, but much sharper and better at piercing, sword. And had also coated it with oil, which, when lit, would ignite the sword in a fiery layer, and would not only help harm the wyvern, it would detract from its power and give Deloric the upper hand. So, armed with knowledge and a new weapon, Deloric approached.

The wyvern saw Deloric now. It lashed its tail, like it usually did. Deloric dodged(deja vu),but this time he rolled and slashed at the thing's back leg. The wyvern was shocked with the pain, and didn't try to counterattack. Quickly, Deloric jumped at it and jabbed at its eyes. But it lashed its head back and forth. Deloric dove just in time, underneath the chin. He jabbed straight upward, and ran out just as the wyvern would have collapsed on him. And the young apprentice didn't give his respects to it as a worthy foe, as any experienced and respectful warrior would have done. He wiped his sword clean in the snow, extinguishing the fire and getting the dragon blood off, and he spat on the wyvern's corpse. He walked up and beheaded it. Then, he went on the path to return to Operation: Liberate, bearing in his left hand a gruesome trophy.


The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 6: Again?

Deloric trudged back to the camp. The snow and winds had faded,and all that was left was a gentle thaw, and a bitter stinging left over from the cold. He'd been given provisions and a backpack to carry his things on the way home, as well as having been allowed to keep the sword and his grisly trophy(the mayor certainly didn't want it). For a few hours now he'd been going back, determined to reach home and be acquitted. He wasn't sure what had happened when he beat up Marle; no, that wasn't true. He'd had full control of himself, but it was as if something else was...him. Something with a dark fury behind it. He heard a faint rustling in the nearby woods, and snow and dew was dislodged from one of the pines. Deloric held his sword high, ready for attack. But something hit him in the back of the head, and he went out cold.

Already coughing up blood, Deloric awoke, breathing heavily. The crisp dawn air he'd remembered last had given way to freezing darkness. He went to unsheathe his sword; having some sort of defense in his hands would calm him down. His hand swiped empty air where his scabbard was. Looking around more, Deloric saw his weapons neatly piled to the side of a roaring campfire. And sitting next to the campfire were several people, strange people, with dark, scarred, tattooed faces and cruel glints in their eyes. Most of all, Deloric saw the frightening weapons they held casually. One of them looked over at him.
"Look, lads! Dinner's awake!" he said, grinning, to show a mouth full of sharp teeth filed to points. Deloric felt a numb shock go through him. Dinner? The other rogues began to approach Deloric, who, with wide eyes, got up and started to run. But he was easily thrown to the ground by the leader.
"Not so fast, friend," he said. Deloric struggled to get up, but he was still slightly weakened from the wyvern battle, the cold, and his injuries. The leader put a knife to his throat, and saw his missing fingers.
"Seen battle?" he said, sneering. Deloric shook his head, wide-eyed.
"Frostbite, then," said one of the other rogues. "Look, Olin, let's just kill him and get it over with."
"I'm getting to that," snapped Olin, waving his knife around. He glanced at Deloric again. "He's not worth it. We've got a better deal over there." he gestured to someone unconscious, on the other side of the fire. Deloric hadn't noticed them because they were wearing all black, which blended with the darkness, and it was difficult to see past the blinding bright fire. The body didn't stir, and Deloric felt a growing dread that it was dead.
"So...we let him go?" said a rogue.
"We don't just let him go," said Olin.
"Well?" said the rogue
"Take his things and knock him out. And since he's already apparently had a taste of ice, give him some fire," said Olin, a wicked, cruel glint enveloping his eyes. The rogues around him nodded, and started to approach Deloric. Next thing Deloric knew, he was out cold.

He had no idea how much later he woke up. His head was down in the soothing snow. He didn't dare move. What if the bandits were still there, ready with their fire? The burns and bruises on his face, arms, and legs were still excruciating, although the snow numbed most of it with its cold. Finally, Deloric sat up. He couldn't see anyone. His leather clothes were still on, thank Moat, for without them he would've frozen to death even in the thaw. The bandits had only taken things of value; his food and water, sword, and what meager coins he had. He held a small clump of snow in his freezing hands; luckily, he hadn't gotten frostbite again. The warmth in his hands quickly melted the snow and turned it into water. Thirsty, he gulped it down, and did this until his thirst was quenched. Then, fearing what he would find, melted the snow with his hands. The puddle reflected his face. It was scarred and disfigured with several fresh, red burns.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 7: Revenge Rage

Deloric stood up, breathing heavily. He fought to constrict his rage and pain. He flexed his fists. He failed at stopping his anger. The creature took control. He searched through the deep but melting snow, unarmed and completely defenseless. But Deloric, the supposedly helpless one, was the hunter. He finally caught tracks of the band of rogues. He followed the tracks relentlessly. But of course, Deloric wasn't really in control, not really. The bloodthirsty creature that had attacked Marle was. And it was out for vengeance.

Olin sat down on the log, poking at the fire. He'd decided simply to kill the man; they'd found a deer. A deer! The delicious animal had come with the thaw. And they'd simply tossed the man's body into one of the melting ice rivers and ate the deer instead. Suddenly, he heard a rustling in the evergreens. He gripped his stolen sword till his knuckles turned white. But a sudden flash and a dislodging of snow signaled the approach of a human. They grabbed a sword discarded by the fire and threw it like a javelin at Olin. Surprised, and without time to dodge, the sword went straight through Olin. And he died, watching his followers descend upon the attacker. At least his men would avenge his death...

Deloric, in a red rage, attacked the rogues. He hurled a sword straight through the leader, and in a deadly dance of swords, and before he knew it, his enemies were laying, groaning and bleeding, at his feet. He purposefully stepped on them as he left the camp, after retrieving his sword from Olin.

A few hours after his blood rage, Deloric stopped on the ground. He held his head in his hands. Was he losing control? What had he done to those people? This was all wrong...

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 8: A Darker Path

Cole sweated, swinging his sword in an arc at the dummy. Its head was easily lopped off. Straw from the dummy blew right out. Cole coughed, and dusted himself off. Suddenly there was a shout at the camp border.
"Cole!" shouted the apprentice on watch duty. "D-Deloric's back," Cole caught a faint tremble in his voice. Already knowing what he would find, Cole walked over to the border gate. He prepared himself for the grisly sight he knew he would find.

Deloric waited for Cole, at the camp borders. When he saw Cole, he bowed respectfully, his hood pulled over his face and his thick leather gloves on. He was ashamed of his injuries. He gritted his teeth. Cole didn't know yet; but of course Deloric should tell him.
"Cole," he said respectfully.
"Welcome back, Deloric," said Cole. "How was your quest?" Cole knew full well what he would say, but shouldn't tell him. Deloric's eyes narrowed. He told Cole the story, coldly, but still stuttering at some parts. And Cole's eyes didn't have any sympathy.

"Deloric!" said the camp mage, from her shelter. Deloric stiffly walked over.
"What?" he growled.
"I have something to tell you," she said tentatively. Her aged hands steepled.
"Well, get on with it then," said Deloric irritably.
"I had a vision a few weeks ago about your quest...I told Cole about it," she said.
"And?" Deloric said, breathing heavily to contain his impatience.
"He knew everything. The injuries, the death of the town, the destruction of the wyvern..." said the mage.
"WHAT!" bellowed Deloric. His face turned red with fury and he stormed out.
"Wait!" she shouted.Deloric drew his sword and ran towards Cole.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 9: Enshrouded

Deloric ran up to Cole, who was unprepared, and slashed at him diagonally. Cole just managed to dodge the blow, which would've killed him, so it just sliced a thin cut in his cheek.
"Wait!" shouted the mage again. She started to make symbols in the air. Deloric drew his knife from his boot and hurled it at her. Eyes wide, Marle dove at her and took the mage to the ground, and the knife whizzed through the air where her forehead was.
"Deloric," grunted Cole, who had drawn his sword and was defending himself from the furious apprentice, slashing and jabbing. "What is this?"
"Oh, don't pretend you don't know," spat Deloric, having to go on the defensive as other apprentices noticed the battle going on, retrieved their weapons, and helped their mentor. "You knew what was going to happen to me...and you still sent me out there."
"You were told...yes. I knew. But it was for your own good!" Cole exclaimed, dodging a lunge. The blade impaled Cole's brown tunic instead.
"Oh, really? For my own good? How could anything good ever come from this?" spat Deloric. He quickly drew his hood back. Several apprentices froze as his frightening, scarred face came into view. Taking advantage of the lull, Deloric swung his sword in a huge arc. Several apprentices' stomachs were slashed during this, and they fell to the ground, groaning.
"The prophecy said that it would make you more powerful...unleash your rage," Cole continued desperately.
"Oh, my rage is out all right!" roared Deloric. He swung his sword in a killing overhand blow.
"But if you controlled it, you could become one of the greatest warriors ArmorGames has ever seen! As great as Strop or Moat themselves!" yelped Cole, on the defensive again.
"I don't need my fury or any prophecy to make me powerful!" growled Deloric. He jabbed at Cole. Suddenly, the mage, who had been inconspicuously casting a spell in a corner of the dirt camp, released her spell. The net of the Stun spell hit Deloric squarely in the chest, and he fainted. Cole went to behead him, but was stopped.
"Don't!" exclaimed the mage. "Remember the prophecy." And Cole sheathed his sword, glaring with unmasked disgust and hatred at Deloric's unconscious body.

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, cruelty, battle, 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. 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.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 14: "The Choice Of Others Is His Choice"

Deloric felt some sympathy at he stared at his desperate mentor. Deloric knew he could kill them both in the blink of an eye, and yet held himself back. He saw two Holy Knights, but no elder Knight with them. That was odd. It was their custom to travel in threes and with a master. But he brushed it away. He had something to say.
"You left me. Moat left me. I've found a new home," he said, his golden eyes filled with fury. He gripped his sword tightly, but Cole held his ground.
"Listen to me, Deloric. I was wrong. I was wrong to send you off when I knew what would happen and-" Cole said desperately.
"YOU'RE LYING!" Deloric roared, cutting Cole off. His pale face was mottled with fury. Suddenly, he gasped. Blood bubbled out of his mouth. Cole noticed a sword tip protruding out of him. Zarok was at the other end, holding the sword he had stabbed into Deloric's back. Deloric's eyes began to roll up into his head and he fell to the ground, shaking. Suddenly he began to speak. It was extremely fast, and so, at first Cole and Zarok and the other Holy Knights though it was nothing but gibberish. But they began to understand what he was saying.
"-and the choice of others is his choice, of the trust they put in him, repeat, repeat, and they take the other side of the divide as the darkness comes and both sides shall fall into the darkness and one will return, repeat. And the choice, the choice" Deloric said.
"What's he saying? It makes no sense. What's happening to him?" demanded Zarok, staring with disgust at the fallen knight.
"I think I've heard of that. When dying, the people blessed by a god to immortality will be waiting, if you will. And during that waiting time the god themselves must heal them of their would-be fatal wound. And as they're being healed, they can see somewhat into the god's mind. It would be all jumbled, and could very well cause a seizure or drive someone insane, but they could know anything going on in the world or anything that's going to happen. And at the time, the person will be at their most powerful, although they will be controlled by their subconscious and thus, won't know it," Cole said, staring in wonder at Deloric.
"We've got to take action," said Zarok, a hard glint in his eyes. "We've got to bury him alive, deep. Before he revives. And before he has a chance to destroy the world. Cole winced, but did not argue this time. They both ran out and grabbed shovels, then dug as quickly as they could, knowing the Internet could be at stake. They also alerted the camp blacksmith to build an iron coffin, and quickly! In a few hours, they had about a 25-foot deep hole. And the blacksmith was done. Zarok ran into the command tent, knocked Deloric out, and put him securely in the practically unbreakable coffin. And they put the coffin in the ground, and as quickly as they could, began to refill the hole. But suddenly, it was as if Deloric's conscious was aware of what was happening. A fervent chanting began to issue from the grave. Zarok and Cole refilled faster, but before they were done there was a loud CRACK!. Dark clouds immediately began to roll across the sky. Lightning crackled. Cole and Zarok were suddenly filled with a cruelty, an evil. They finally managed to bury Deloric.
"Was that it? The choice? He cast a spell to do something to the world, because he was so powerful in his revival state?" asked Zarok.
"I think so," agreed Cole. "But I think I understand what he said."
"Well, what?" asked Zarok.
"He said "the choice of others is his choice. And that is because, had you not stabbed him, he wouldn't have been in the revival coma in the first place, and would not have been able to cast the spell." Cole said.
"But what was that other stuff?" demanded Zarok
"I don't know. But I can tell what that magic was. And this world could end in a few hours, or a few dynasties, unless the spell is reversed," said Cole, looking depressed.
"So what do we do to stop it?" shouted Zarok.
"We can't. No spell like this has ever been cast before. Even if I knew a counterspell, it would take at least 10 lives to cast it," said Cole. His voice was resigned.
"So the world ends. And the choice of others makes his choice," said Zarok.

THE END

By Moat

I saw a time
When the skies are dark and gray
And lots of crime
Committed here, every day
And we are all scared
We're all just unprepared
And give me a reason why
All these people should want to die
Knowing they lived in the dark
And this will always leave its mark
But we must all stand and raise our heads
We must be proud, we must be strong
Because without strength and confidence
We won't last long, soon we will be dead
But we all need someone to guide us through
And I never thought or knew
It would be me
But someone's gotta do it, just to set us free
I gotta instill hope
In a time of death, an impossible task
But I have seen
The way I will be
And now I have no doubts in me!
And you just have to believe

Tell me what you think please.