God-General's Despair

Tpolemos' eyes snapped open. Another nightmare. Another reminder of a father uncaring. Years of torture, abuse. Although he had long since died, the nightmares were constant. War did nothing to distract the God-General from the constant agony that sleep brought.

This war, there was no end. The demonic creatures of the void brought forth by a being whose face remained shrouded in mystery. Cynthia. She was once nothing but a simple servant. A creature of the king's court. No longer. Cynthia would see the end of all life in payment for what had been stolen.

An unending war. Unending like his nightmares. The God-General, Tpolemos, was cursed to live this existence. No one to blame but himself. A war he created by his own hand. Cynthia was his problem. He would see it to the final breath that she will fall before him. Or that she will taken his own in her insatiable quest for revenge.

Tpolemos found himself perched on the edge of his bed. His head in his hands, his brow stained with sweat. "Father, cursed to live this eternity with your criticisms begging of my sanity." Tpolemos muttered lightly under his breath; musing to himself. His chambers were bathed in darkness but it mattered little. He knew every inch of that chamber like the back of his hand. He rose his body aching as he did so. His form was failing him. His energy was sapped. The God-General in naught but name.

He plunged his head into a basin filled with water. Exhaling in a torrent of bubbles slowly. He held his head there, and allowed the silence to wash over him. Tranquility. There was so little time to himself these days. Lifting his head from the water he breathed deeply. Tossing his head back. His long mane of ghost white hair slicking back, hanging wildly around his waist. He grasped the towel hidden to his right and began to dry his hair. "Light." He grunted out, and on queue flames flickered to life on candles spaced around the room. The darkness retreating into the corners. The drab room was small. His cot, basin and small cabinet occupying the small stone room. He took pleasure in the simplicity.

"Lord General, you are wanted urgently in the audience chamber." A voice bellowed from outside the door. Tpolemos' hollow grey orbs flicked rapidly to the door.

"What of it, peasant?" He muttered in response. His voice rumbled from deep in his throat, low but carried. An air of authority in the seemingly emotionless voice.

"We have captured, him." Came a gentle response. Tpolemos' eyes flared with a rare emotion. Happiness. "I'll be but a moment. Leave me." He said, quickly turning on his feet and stepping into the centre of his chambers. Light footsteps echoed off into the distance. A grin tugged at the edges of his features. The tides had turned. His arms stretched out, his mind focused. A black liquid began to pool at his feet. His brow narrowed with concentration, a crease forming between them, veins popping from his forehead. The liquid began to flow up his body and along his flesh. Knitting itself together. Small lines of gold etched themselves into the solidified form. His eyes closed and within the black liquid had covered every inch of his body up to the base of his neck. His eyes snapped open and the veins subsided. The liquid solidified into a suit of obsidian armour. Etched with gold adornments. Pauldrons resembling many small gnarled hands stretching out for help.

Braids of ghost white hung loosely over his shoulder. The silver coronet rested upon the top of his head, a symbol of his status. The large audience chamber of the empire stood before him. The God-General brought an unease among most members of the court. The sterling whites and golds of the royal robes starkly different to that of the ghostly night endowed in black that stood with them. It was fine for him. It allowed him what little solitude he could get. The King placed his trust in the right people, even if they were weak. Tpolemos scanned the people that had been gathered. Noculous, the King. One would almost think they were brothers. Both with stark white locks of hair, hollow grey eyes and an aura of power. The King was one of merit, and not lineage. Respected and feared. He too grew weary of the war.

Nero, was sneaky. The Lord Regent and local ruler. He acted as a voice for the people. Nero was as trustworthy as a knife to the throat. He answered only to Noculous. There was no loyalty to the people he maintained a facade of rule over. Tpolemos despised the rat. The two had little to do with each other, and he had little idea why Nero was allowed to continue his false leadership. Trusting the only the King's intuition on this. Tpolemos avoided the gaze of the half dozen of subordinates that were pacing the chambers awaiting their guest. Tpolemos felt a pulse in his hands and his eyes locked upon the large ornate double doors that led their way into the large area. Noculous tilted his head noting the sudden change within the God-General and raised his hand.

"Bring him forth." Noculous spoke, his voice carrying through the entirety of the room. So gentle and yet booming. His authority ringing true. Tpolemos flicked his hand up as the doors flung open, tendrils of the black liquid shooting forth from his hand. Small more greyish tendrils answered back intertwining with the black. Tpolemos pulled his hand back towards himself as three figures began to move into the chamber. Two either side of a much larger being in the centre. The two either side had these tendrils sprouting from their chests. Their steps hurried as they seemed to be dragged forward, Tpolemos seemingly dragging them forward. A slight murmur followed around the room. Noculous' eyes narrowed and Nero stepped forward to stand between the King and these figures. "Be gone, you are not needed." Tpolemos bellowed, and within a blink the tendrils all dispersed. The black receded back into the murky obsidian of his gautlets and the grey ones rapidly receded back into their hosts. The two figures seemingly hollow and lifeless turned and wrapped their hands around the wrists and feet of the third. Moments later their began to melt away, their forms reshaping into chains of steel. Tpolemos began to step forward towards the figure, all else remained still. There was a sudden shift of coolness through the room, a feeling of fear washed over many.

"Venlin." Tpolemos gently whispered. All heard him however. The figure now bound by chains in the centre of the chamber raised his head slowly. His face marred with red, horns of sterling white protruding from his brow and extending into the sky. Gnarled and mangled. The figure smiled their a veil of black matted and ragged hair that hung over his face. Teeth pointed and sharp, too many for a normal being.

"The False King and his cohorts," the being barked. "Tpolemos, how long has it been? You're looking tired my friend." The malice laced every screeching word. Tpolemos slammed the back of his hand roughly across the face of the one called Venlin. His eyes narrowed, and he flexed his fingers, a sharp tendril shooting from his palm. It appeared to stop only an inch from the throat of Venlin, before slowly snaking around his throat. "You will speak when I say so, Venlin. None wish to hear the venom that pours from your tainted throat." Tpolemos spoke, however gentle their was a deep threat. The tendril solidified around Venlins throat, creating a collar of black. Tpolemos took several steps back, connected to the newly formed collar with the leash of the black.

"Venlin, I should have you killed on the spot for the countless crimes you've committed upon my people." Noculous spoke as he began to stride forward. Venlin's snarl stretched further across his grotesque features, his gaze lingering upon the eyes of Noculous.

"Once my brother, tainted by the foul magics of the false queen." he spoke once more. Venlin's laughter filled the chamber, maniacal and cold. Tpolemos' narrowed his gaze and yanked roughly, pulling Venlin roughly to his knees. A forced kneel. "You'll have to forgive me your lordship. There is only one false monarch here. Only one that has committed unforgivable crimes upon a people he did not deserve to rule." Venlin grumbled, his head bowed remaining on his knees. Venom laced every word. "Cynthia lost everything in your mindless pursuit of power. She is not bitter, she does not want revenge. We all want the same thing my brothers. An end to this war. No more blood spilt." Tpolemos went to strike Venlin once more but has his hand caught by Noculous. He looked at his king and nodded. Noculous' anger flared through his eyes. His features pulled back in a nasty anger.

"Cynthia," Noculous spat. "This war will end when her head lays at my feet. There is no discussion to be had here Venlin. You know you live for only one reason." Venlin's laboured laughter echoed through the room.

"Yes, I am very aware, false one," Venlin muttered. "I would so much have loved for this to have been solved easily. Ah well. Enough of this. You have me, what do you want before you set you give me over to your pet wardog?" Noculous' grip loosed and Venlin was sent flying across the room from the strike that flew from Tpolemos' clenched fist. A slight murmur crossed the room as the chains holding Venlin snapped taut and pulled him rapidly back to the centre of the room. Venlin spat a globule of foul smelling blood. Red.

Tpolemos' father's voice rang through his mind. Nero took his place beside the king once more and yanked the hair of Venlin back, snapping his head back roughly. Their eyes locked. Nero's face covered in disgust, Venlin's features pulled in that grotestque smile still. "Take us to her, and you will be deigned to live the rest of your days in the dungeons," Nero said softly. "Else, I will have to employ some measures of making you talk."

Venlin allowed his features to fall hollow. His gaze locked with Nero before slowly gravitating to the hollow grey orbs of Tpolemos, finally fixating on Noculous' rage filled stare. A small grin tugged at the edge of his features and he began to stand. Venlin towered over all of them. Though not bulky, the demonic like being was intimidating at full height. Tpolemos tightened his grip upon the leash the chains restraining him struggling to keep him in place. "You dare threaten me, you puny whelps," Venlin growled lowly. "I will show you how to reach her, but you will not keep me in chains. You will regret these decisions. Release me, gather your champions. I will prepare the portal for your deaths."

Noculous nodded to Tpolemos and Nero. Instantly Tpolemos snapped his fingers, the collar and leash quickly dissipating back into his armour. Nero whipped around on his feet and strode quickly from the chamber. Noculous stood staring holes into Venlin. Moments later the chains holding him in place slowly began to melt away. The greyish liquid flowing into the cracks of the floor and then disappearing. "You will all face death," Venlin said, beginning to laugh. The mania in the creature's laugh filling the air. "She will show you your deepest fears, and then... She'll kill each and every one of you." Venlin raised one of his hands to his face, pushing his hair back. His skin marred with dried blood, countless scars and those gnarled horns. Then within a heartbeat he slammed his own hand into his chest. A grunt of agony echoed through the air. He collapsed to his knees as blood began to pool. "All magic requires sacrifice. Isn't that right, Tpolemos?" Venlin grunted. Tpolemos shook his head and turned on his heel. Leaving the King and Venlin to do what must be done.