Of Hopes and Dreams

Of Hopes and Dreams
The heroes stood on the mount, cloaked in Darkness, and looked down on the massed hordes of the Enemy. Their numbers, countless. Their malevolence, palpable. The Iron Legionnaires were resplendent in their namesake armor. All faceless as they were each welded inside, never to feel the bare air ever again. Vampires flitted about, some monstrously large from having consumed many, many mortal lives. They senselessly attacked those around, live or undead, as if deranged. Priestesses guided the Walking Sacrifices who followed them. They each offered themselves in turn, to have their throats cut, never missing a step in time to the pounding of the great drums carried on the backs of behemoths.

In the center of it all, Red Riders cracked whips and the groans of the slaves were audible even from miles away though their tongueless mouths could make no comprehendible sounds. They dragged a mighty ziggurat through the plain, its path lubricated by the blood of those who fell, exhausted, beneath the stones. Above it, a hideous red moon glowed serenely, its glow extending inch by inch as the monument was dragged forward.

A low, rumbling voice circled the mountaintop but couldn’t be heard by those below. “I think we’ve had enough of that.” The power that concealed the avengers was withdrawn, slowly revealing them… and their armies.

At the forefront was a red-haired woman with a wild look in her right eye, a patch on the other eye and a manic grin. She pointed to the lunars below and said to a grim-faced warrior next to her. “So, what do you think? The souls of the undead march in rotted bodies, supported by foul magicks.”

He frowned and nodded, “The cause is just and they are thrice-damned. Let the seal of Humakt be lifted!”

“All right!” She flipped up the eyepatch and revealed a black orb inscribed with a golden Death rune. Strangely enough, it made her even more attractive. She raised up her axe and commanded, “Arise!” At her word, the ground split as dozens, then hundreds of bodies crawled from the stone. Some were still clothed in flesh while others were naught but bones. The largest were the Ivory Dragons, the skeletons of long-dead lizardish races bent to her will. Her axe erupted into flame, and all the dead likewise began to burn. The humakti watched carefully. “Let these soulless bodies join the fight.”

Next revealed was a lean, nearly-naked man with dark, deeply set eyes that had a profound magnetism. He, too, was smiling as he touched various fetishes and artifacts around his body, kept out and convenient for use. Around him swirled uncounted spirits, elemental and otherwise. They were bound by his will, by promises, or by past favors but bound they all were.

“Another damned temple, eh? Well, I’ve gotten better since the last time. That thing is mine!”

“Ours, you mean?” An attractive earth priestess remind him as the darkness drew away allowing her to be seen and heard. The receding cover revealed not just one but several dozen priestesses in various states of dress. Several were hastily arranging their clothing with reddened faces and averted eyes. Other than being from a variety of earth cults, they all shared the common feature of being unshod, their bare feet pressed firmly on the ground.

“Ours, of course!” He stomped on the ground, an action copied by the women, causing the tiniest vibration to start. Again, he brought his foot down with them, adding to the power. They repeated this over and over, the simple rhythm expanding and growing, though kept in check by arcane forces as they danced wildly on the mount!

A sorceress sniffed as looked at those antics from the side. In one hand she carried a bone-white staff topped by a cluster of gemstones while the other carried a darkling wand that whispered enticingly to those who drew too close. On her back was a voluminous cape that did not seem to have a fixed shape or size… the outside was covered with stars while the inside was black as pitch. She murmured softly and innumerable symbols, some never before seen in this world, appeared around her.

Apparently satisfied, she stabbed her staff in the ground and each of the gems began to glow and shimmer. Each had its own pattern and sequence, causing nausea from the dichotomy if stared at too closely. Most didn’t know that this was a defense for weak-willed as staring too long would cause madness… at best. She looked down at the armies below. “More vampires? Aren’t they tired of this game by now?” She muttered something about idiots and adjusted her spells in preparation. Several ghostly urns in the palest of pastel colors rose from the ground and rested around her in anticipation.

The darkness rolled back faster, reveal men and women, warriors all. Their faces with grim and eager, youthful and aged, stalwart and nervous. In their midst was a very small woman with kind, almost motherly eyes that spoke of compassion for all that lived and breathed. Wherever she went, people felt their hearts grow steady and their thews strengthen. The weariness of the road dropped away and any injuries flew like thistle in the wind.

She sang a song of home and hearth, of families waiting for them, of deceased ancestors and children not yet born. A spark formed in each heart that would allow them to rise again, hale and whole, even if they fell in battle. For they fought not for themselves but for their homes, their cause, their peoples! “…take this blessing, the love of Challana to fill you and succor you…” Like a wave, warmth spread from her - a monsoon caused by the tiniest pebble.

The deep voice sounded again, shaking the air around them all. “Warriors and priests, it is time. Lovers of the pure light and haters of the soul-darkness, it is time. Blades of justice and blades of vengeance, it is time!” The calm, voice became harsher, louder, more penetrating, shaking the very bones of those who heard it. “It is time. It is time! IT IS TIME!” The last of the veil on the mount fell away and the shout unleashed the armies!

The burning horde, with the redhead riding atop a skeletal tyrannosaur, raced down the slopes and crashed against the Lunar infantry resoundingly! The vampire legion turned to support them with spells and their own bodies but suddenly a mystic circles, miles in diameter appeared over their heads. They shrieked as they bodies shrank and the intelligence faded from their eyes. Confused, they stuck out at everyone around them, each other and even their own bodies! The urns around the sorceress began to fill with colorful fluids and a faint smile crossed her face.

The Lunar priestesses were quick to shift from their ritual to attack, but just then twenty-seven feet stamped as one, completing the grand ritual! A massive crack formed in the earth, causing the ziggurat to tilt a bit, then more, and then it finally toppled into the fissure only leaving half of it above the ground!

Behind the attacking troops stood a massive man, equally tall as an ancient oak and as sturdy as the first mountain. He raised his sword and shouted, “Forward! Leave none alive to spread their disease again! Today is the beginning of their end!” He quickly overtook the troops at the front and started to wield his weapon, slaying dozens with every swing. “Iron and magic! Blood and bones! Make their end!” His voice gave insane strength to his comrades and shook their enemies to their souls causing many to drop their weapons and flee immediately.

Arrows and spells came from the lunars but what made it past shield and armor did no lasting harm as the wounds healed almost as fast as they formed. Spirits of air, fire and water joined the assault, grappling with the foul remnants glowing red with the will of the Red Moon. With the collapse of the Ziggurat, her representation in the sky flickered as a beam of good light pierced a hole in the clouds…

-=-=-

Mankar awoke with the vision still vividly in his eyes. Once again of mortal mind, the details began to fade for no creature not a god could comprehend the ineffable in totality.

Mantis squatted on one side, covering a brazier filled with slowly burning aromatic herbs. He was long since immune to such things and required more potent concoctions for his own visions. “So, was the seeing well-omened?”

The big man found his voice, “It was, my friend, it certainly was.” He rubbed his eyes that were sore from the effects of the drug-laden smoke. “So, what I saw, how certain is it to come to pass?”

The shaman shrugged, “Who can say? All that is certain is that it COULD come to be. Does that give you comfort?”

He grinned widely, “It does indeed. It does indeed!”