Destiny's End

For In Character events within Noore I'Meles, the homeland of the Orcs, Goblins and Rodera

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Destiny's End

Postby dainul » Wed Aug 03, 2011 3:19 pm

Oblivion Came.

Glooms beyond number poured over the hills, the pitiful defenses of Rodera and Orc alike overwhelmed in moments as the tide continued to rise. All who could fled on up the hill, pouring into the last dwindling island of safety.

The End of All.

One figure did not run. Halfway up the hill, clothed in a simple, patchwork cloak, it stood. As shadow and death rose around it, the lone figure watched, all eight eyes scanning the scene, witnessing all that happened as its death approached with the rest.


In the confusion, panic and chaos, a young Rodera was dropped by a mother too scared to stop. The bawling infant lands by the cloaked figure and scans around, fear and confusion holding it in place.


The spider-kin regards this new addition to the scene with the same dispationate detatchment as all else. It can see this child's thread coming to an end along with its own and those of the world itself, after all. But then, without really knowing why, the spider-kin stoops and gathers up the rat-child. Instincts long-ignored guide it, and the figure gently rocks the infant. Still, death was but moments away for them both as an Orc falls to the glooms' inexorable assault feet away from the pair.


And the threads cease to be. The world ends, life is gone. But for this... pink glow. It takes a moment for the chaos to subside as the refugees realise what has happened. The shimmering wall that surrounds them seems impenetrable to the dark horrors beyond, and a great sense of relief and, dare it be mentionned, joy, sweeps across all those still alive.

All but one.

The spider kin continues to stand, to stare at the shimmering wall separating it from its fate. The thread of destiny had ended, all threads ended in that moment, so why, how was there still life?

For a long moment, the spider-kin simply stood, staring at the dark army beyond the wall. Neither stepping forwards nor back. Neither movingtowards death or away. Paralysed by confusion, fear, indecision. It simply did not know how to deal with a world without threads to guide it. Looking around, it seeks desparately a link, a sliver of thread, something to latch onto, something it must have missed. But there is nothing. Even its eyes which look at the past can see nothing but the death which should have consumed all.

Eventually, distraction comes in the form of the squirming little bundle wrapped in the edges of the spider-kin's cloak. The child wriggles again and squeaks quietly. As it looks down at the small figure it holds, instincts rise again from the shadowed, hidden parts of its soul.

Here and there, small groups of exhausted refugees gather and begin to light fires to warm themselves through the long coming night. Through this scene steps a figure in a long, patchwork cloak, carrying a small child. Eyes move, taking in the scene, but never are there less than two watching the child, held closely, tightly and safely in her arms.
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