- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
Excommunicado looked at his opponent. His eyes held secrets deeper than he could only imagine. Struggling to not be lost in their depth, he tried to put forth all the hatred he could muster. He tried to channel his angst he had felt for the past 19 years... But this rage was marred by sorrow...
For once he felt no rage, he found peace staring into the eyes of this behemoth, who wanted direly to kill him. He wanted to fall back into her arms...
The Weaver took a step forward, rippling through Excommunicado's mind. The memory, the vision, the happiness was torn from him. This bastard would keep him from passing on, keep him from rejoining his past life.
This bastard sought to crush others lives, sending them through the same torment he had felt.
A new hatred rose in him, one far deeper and sinister than any he had felt before.
He was Excommunicado. He was the lord of shadow. He would not allow this demonic wretch, fate, to spite him again.
Solid in absolute readiness to take the test- to determine his destiny.
Excommunicado ripped his sword from its sheath, empowered by energies surging through him. He clenched his teeth and revealed his resolve to the Weaver.
Fear flickered in the opponents eyes. The mist curling around him exposed him, rather than shrouded him.
Swords met. At every meeting of steel, at every harrowing clang, combatants eyes met, sharing the absolute feeling of dire importance.
The Weaver shoved Excommunicado, throwing him to the dirt.
Excommunicado lay, slowly regaining stature. The Weaver, anxious to claim victory leapt at his rising foe with an urgent and unplanned vigor.
He sent his sword down upon Excommunicado.
It seemed as if time had frozen.
This moment determined not only Excommunicado's destiny, but the destiny of all existence.
Excommunicado wrenched his sword upwards with newfound and dumbfounding strength, shattering his opponents blade.
Now, towering over his disarmed foe, he uttered his final triumphant proclaimation, "My fate, subservient. My doom has befallen you. Let me be honored... At last..." He let fall his bane, hewing the fel manipulator in two.
The jewel laden Weaver began to dissapate in a quivering blue cloud, spreading outward.
Excommunicado fell to his knees and plummetted his sword into the earth, never releasing his grasp upon it. He could see her again. She was more than a shadow of the past.
A single tear fell from Excommunicado's eye, staining the morbid, blood soaked grass. His mourning was over.
The blue cloud billowed up, encasing Excommunicado, entombing him, enthroning him. Then, in a flash, the cloud contracted into nothing, leaving the sword, the war, his tainted legacy, and this stage of his life journey behind.
And fate, conquested. Honor upheld.
Exeunt Excommunicado.
[Edited on 7/31/2004 12:05:59 AM]