Wait, there's three Tanks already? Oh boy, here comes another one.
~1000 Years Ago
99 graves in the ground for 100 men, each one 100 feet deep. After the undead had started clawing their way up from their resting places, graves were made far deeper, and in advance. At the time, he was covering number 73.
"May the gods take your soul away, so it can be free from this cycle of undeath." He always said a blessing over the graves he filled, even though he was certain there was no greater power listening... Or caring.
"You always did care about the squad, didn't you, #####?" said a voice from behind him. He spun around, taking a combat stance, to come face to face with his fire-haired commander.
"Ack! Sorry, sir, I'm just a little on my guard these days," he said, relaxing a bit. He swore he saw a flicker in the distance, but that could just be a storm on the horizon... Or a horde. "It just feels like their deaths are my fault, every time."
"Yeah, I know that. I'm supposed to be your leader. But look at this. 27 of us left. I'm the one who failed," the commander said, picking up the fallen soldier's sword and jamming it into the grave. It was rusty and chipped, but it had served him well until his final breath. Then that flicker got a bit closer. Yeah, s***, that was a horde.
"Uh, sir, I think it's time to pack up again - Horde's coming," he warned, a little panicked. Was it moving faster than normal?
"Do we have to? Does it matter if we fight?" the commander said. He was looking at that newly filled grave with tears in his eyes.
"Uh, sir?" the soldier asked, stepping forwards. But his superior didn't even look up as the tears hit the ground.
"It doesn't matter. Humanity's dead! We're all going to die, and come back, and we won't remember anything! Humanity is gone! the orange haired soldier cried. He fell to his knees, and cried for what felt like eternity, time only marked by the impending horde's thrum.
"Sir. Humanity hasn't died off yet. Look at me!" he shouted. He hated yelling at his superior, but he had to snap him out of his daze somehow. "I'm still alive. You're still here. We still have 25 men to take care of, to inspire and lead to somewhere humanity still holds its ground. Stand up!" He yanked the mourning soldier back to his feet.
"Heh... I swear, you should lead those men, with your damn speeches." the commander chuckled. "Now let's make this last stand together, eh?"
The soldier in gray smiled grimly at this.
"No... This is my last stand, not yours. Take the men and leave, ####." He looked at the closing horde with a fire in his eyes he hadn't felt in a while.
"Wha... No! You're coming with us, right?" the orange commander asked, bewildered.
"...No, I'm afraid not, sir." the soldier said, his face darkening as he stared into the wave of death. "This one is faster. You can't just outrun it. I'll delay it as long as I can. Just promise me one thing... Come back and bury me deep some day. With my brothers."
"You're mad... But I know I can't stop you, ####." the man's commander sighed. He broke into a sprint to gather the others and leave, and the soldier took one last stance.
"I WOULD DIE A HUNDRED DEATHS BEFORE I LET MY KING SUFFER EVEN ONE!" he cried, frenzying the horde further. He listened to their mad march, and the orderly retreat behind him, and breathed.
...
...
...
He fought well, felling the entire horde against all odds. He fought not for his survival, but for his comrades, his brothers in arms, one of the last shards of humanity still fighting. And he laid amid the rotting corpses... And slept.
----------Many Years Later----------
The Revenant's claws broke the surface.
"Ninety... Nine." the dried corpse coughed. The sand had gotten into his every pore, drawing out all his moisture. It had preserved him well, kept his form intact. But the deep grave had other effects when the Spark had settled inside him.
He vaguely remembered the meaning of his words. This was the 99th time he had woken up down there, buried alive in the dunes.
99 times, he had clawed his way up only to drown in dust.
He felt like he was missing something, but all he knew was the struggle against the sand. He pulled himself fully out of the ground and look as about. 99 swords stood from the sands around him, eternal, rusted watchers. One stood right behind him, and he reached for it like instinct told him to, but then he saw his twisted hands. They would never hold a sword again, odds were. This made him sad. He didn't know why - his hands were as good a weapon as the rusted blade before him. But he... Had loved that blade, almost as much as... Someone else. Who?
In a moment of lucidity, he looked around. Indeed, he knew what blade did not rest here.
"E... Eachtar." he said with his twisted mouth. And he looked off in the distance, and saw movement.
"Eachtar?" the Revenant growled, shambling towards the flicker on the horizon. It hurt to move his stiff limbs, but... Something drove him beyond that. He had died 99 times for something, and it lied over there. He would find that purpose.
And he would clutch to it like he clutched to every breath of hot, dry air, every step he took, every moment spent under this blazing sun.
Because something told him that this life...
Would be his last.
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Topic: [FEF] Monsters of Magvel: Re:Start the Rebellion OoC Thread | Dark Prelude (Read 4153 times)