Enmity; Fall of Man.

by Xaedra

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Human, Tragedy
Length: 3550

In Ancient times long before their extinction roamed tyrannous species of callous individuals.

The candle flickered in the darkness, shadows climbing down the physical world like water. The quill ran across the blood stained page, the writer grieving over his torture. He pondered his thoughts, cold tired eyes; brim to exhaustion. He had been restless for so long, so long. Day and night meant nothing to him now, no dawn, no dusk and no time, just himself with his troubles. He continued writing, blood trickling down his fingers onto the quill. Writing More blood than ink now. He glared at his small barred off window, reminding him that he was locked in, imprisoned; with his anguish.
Outside, his home, his family. The once graceful city of Blackburn. But, now just a former shadow of itself; its tall inspiring human architectural constructs collapsing into nothing, burning embers fade into the night. Its people, overruled by dissonance, war and famine. The writer cringed at the thought at what his home had turned to. Mind caught in discrepancy, he wrote. His pale white hand shivering, bleeding and body in wounds, he continued to write, ancient pen still quivering across the torn frail paper.

"The war has ended, but not in a way I had hoped for. Instead of triumph, my home and my world rolls in its own blood. Now I lick my wounds, looking for comfort. There is nothing and no-one to to tell me all will be well, but that be dishonest and far from the truth. A part of me wishes that this conflict never arose, another shows that it was indeed our fault, our cause; Our greed… We expected too much from others, forcing them to give up and share anything that we saw fit to fill the void in our hearts. We thought regardless, who we hurt when we took from those who fought? We did not care, we did not omit from our desire. Now our kind has had its heart filled with life's last souvenir. Death. We face extinction, calling for help, but we heed no answer. We have lost faith in our allies trust. I do not blame them, who would want to trust a treacherous and covetous species such as myself. I am now growing tired, restless; I wish to sleep, sleep. Although I know of the fate that will befall my kind, I still hope, hope that one day we will learn from our past mistakes and return to this world. But, for the moment the world is better off without us. I now finish my wordings to begin my last longing, yet presumed uneasy slumber."

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-01 01:49:31 UTC

Chapter I - The pales of The Shard

Chapter I - The pales of The Shard

                 1

The spiteful below-zero gush of wind bit at his pale bony hands, gauntlets that did nothing but make his hands much more frigid than they already were. He was tired, he had not slept for days. But still, he kept his wake; falling asleep in this weather without sufficient warmth is dangerous, if not outrageously foolish. The scraping of metal made his teeth grind, turning to look at his companion. He stared, frowning at each time the metal made noise.

"Death is a funny thing" said his comrade as he slid his flanged machete across his gauntlet, smirking knowing that his friend was irritated by it. "…constantly foreshadowing from life's lamentable end to deaths bitter beginning, life is cruel why should the afterlife be any different?" the burning embers were giving out its final wisp in the breeze, the fire had been alit all night and was beginning to fade into cold.

Giving his comrade a deadpan stare, Boudin picked his helmet from the wet ground, "You only live once" he said as he lowered the deep ebony toned helmet onto his head.

"how would you know?" comrade said giving his friend a sly grin, he slid his machete along once more, He looked up at Boudin silently gesturing with his expression that he was bored with conversation with him, looking back down he continued carving numbers into his armour.

Boudin turned his back, and treaded towards the edge of a steep cliffside, the surrounding mountains in the distance shadowed the lower grounds of the highlands, the snow and blistering cold ice amidst the tops of the mountains reflected the light, glowing from the sun rising from its fall of dusk into a dawn. His tired eyes stared over his homeland, his mind slowly drifted into dead speechlessness thought. Willows spread chaotically throughout the distance channeled the wind through its branches, causing a soothing whistle, a choir of tree's. Standing so close to the mountains' edge gave made his heart sink into his stomach, giving him the craving to jump, and finally end his bitter life with a cut short flight into the rocky granite stones' that bellowed at the mountains' feet. He felt his body lurching him closer to the edge, he thought…

A touch on his shoulder, he was back home, memories of his father and mother smiling; telling him they love him; everything will work out for the best, son. In his garden the beautiful scent from vermilion flowers filling not just his nostrils, but his heart to the brim. Fresh air giving welcome to his lungs. The fruit tasted wonderful, as if nothing from this world, he could live forever in this memory.

But it was just a memory.

Dead memories in his heart felt as if they were crushing his ribs into his chest, and filtering his mood into despair. His father had already lost his mind, he was not who he remembered. Joyful, tolerant and most of all; honourable. gone. Killed in the last fight with those who righteously opposed against mankind's tyranny.

Now in the tainted shoes of his father, Boudin closed his eyes and took in breath; he was to fight in the very final fight, the one that would truly provide a outcome on the victor of the war. The equestrian enemy was much more sufficient in the ways of magic, but where our magic failed, our ability of craftsmanship gave us a firm foothold in our defence. Humans were always considered the best architects and blacksmiths in the known lands, in-fact many of the equestrian constructs were inspired by human architecture. Due to the war, we focused on nothing but mass producing weapons; we gained a lot of anxiety from our adversaries by doing this, we knew this so we started to make new weapons the world had not witnessed before. Our most brilliant was the invention of gunpowder, originally used for quick paced mining purposes, was then used for our military, that was when explosive weaponry was born, our cannons gave us the ability to take enemies from a distance, thus giving us an effective chance against the pegasi.

The ballista's rattled and shifted into position, their wheels made crushing sounds as their heavy steel bodies rolled across the frozen-over soil, the souls of many stand vigilant, waiting for the orders to commence the inevitable massacre between continents. Soldiers marched on, making a thick line, forming a solid wall made out of flesh, metal and intent to take the lives of those whom fight only because they must.

Over the horizon a great army from a far away land, known as Equestria, far past the badlands which divided the two continents,  the army of unicorn, pegasi and earth-pony alike emerged from the suns glare over the horizon. Their fragile souls filled with heartache that it has come to this, they never wanted to go to war with mankind. They tried to reason with them, humans have the ability to do great kindness and generosity, but instead are inclined to do greedy pursuits, influenced too easily by their callings for debauchery.

The sound of hooves trotting into formation were just as vociferous as the bash of battle drums, enough to wake the dead. All the noise practically earsplitting, Boudin stared at the equestrian adversaries, wishing he had not done so, heart drooping into his stomach as he looked at the vast size of the army, their presence casts a long shadow across the battle field, blocking the sun from clear view, no man dared flinch; keeping to their tenacious facade, raising their fists in the air in contempt towards their Equestrian adversaries.

Tens of thousands of the human army let out a thunder-some battle outcry, the world grew colder at the oncoming scenario, rain beating down on the mortals with ample fury, arctic ice clinging to their steel ebony boots as if to stop the foreshadowed bloodshed, slowing taking steps closer towards the enemy, feet sinking into the snow; eyes narrowed, waiting for the enemy to make their move, retreat or take a stand?

Finally growing tired with their taunting. Show them no mercy! blurted a stray soldier within the mix of the battalion, suddenly without warning, they all began to rush towards the army without hesitation, cracking ice and crushing plants that got caught under their overwhelming haste. On the third row of the army, Boudin, he could not stop nor slow down otherwise run the risk of being trampled by hundreds, if not thousands of men. Continued to rush with full force, both opposing sides, adjacent with every step. Boudin braced for impact. The armour of furious men and ponies clashed, angry outbursts of sword and spears. The opposing force was strong, anyone on the front line died instantly by a barrage of spears and arrows; All of them sent to the great beyond within a blink of an eye.

The human warriors, using their physical strength and tower-like shields pushed the enemy back,

"Break!" ordered the battalions officer, lifting their shields up to make a quick jab with their spears. It worked, the first row of un-expecting colts dropped to the ground not long after the attack.

The second attempt was not so successful, the equestrian soldiers predicted that the humans would try the same strategy and responded with a swift reaction using their magic and spears as their counterattack. Many of the human soldiers went down simultaneously, others however went into frenzy swiping wildly, showing callous regardless of who they hit and killed, before blacking out into the afterworld. The tension had been broken, the first two rows of the armies had been killed and or scattered, the real battle had really taken place now. On both sides of the coin, soldiers from both armies became mixed into a chaotic battle, some came face to face alone with the enemy on fair fight, others however were not so fortunate for an even score, being in situation of up to ten verses one, unfortunate soul.

Boudin, hacking frantically at any direction of any presumed enemy as to keep himself alive, regrettably one of his own got in the path of his mace; skull crushed. Oh how he wished that didn't just happen. He kneeled down to the fallen soldier, dead but eyes still open, placing his hand upon the lifeless eyes and closing them so that his body could rest in peace without witnessing the bloodshed that encircled it.

It was not long until the human army was spread thin and overwhelmed, morale lost, some stayed and fought to the very end, others retreating turning their backs to take one last look at the doomed men that opted to remain behind.

"We've been routed! Fall back!" A soldier exclaimed, throwing down his sword turning to retreat. But was cut short with a crossbow bolt to the chest.

"Cowards will be shot! Death before dishonour!" Growled his officer, loading another bolt into his crossbow, taking aim to take down an approaching pegasus. Short on time he missed his shot and was met with a swift kick in the face, even though with his steel plated helmet he went down cold, that must have been quite a kick. After a quick inspection on the officer the pegasus turned her attention to Boudin.

..crap, he panicked trading his mace in his confusion for a shield, the pegasus sped towards him at great pace, he faced his shoulder towards the angry pegasus, shield raised he prepared.

"-Oomph!" he let out a painful outcry.

The sheer velocity of the pegasus's clash sent Boudin for a short un-enjoyed flight before landing on his backside, I'll be feeling that in the morning, he was dazed, grunting and shaking his head to regain his bearings, he looked up only to see several more pegasi approaching, he went to make an struggled attempt to get back up from the ground before being stopped by the very same pegasus that but him there, she raised her hoof ready to put him in the cold, he panicked using the shield that was still firmly latched onto his gauntlet, using it to smash her in the side of the head, the pegasus went down, letting out an outcry to the other pegasi, Boudin threw the shield at the pursuers to give him a distraction for escape; the shield clipped one of the pegasi catching it on the leg then face planting into the mud wet ground. Giving him the one and only opportunity to escape from the battle; alive.

After several minutes of running for his pitiful life, he eventually finds himself far from the troubles of the affliction and the agony of war. He looks back towards the battlefield, from what he can see there are none of his kind left fighting, just corpses. He was tired from running so fast, exhausted taking seat under a nearby willow tree covered in snow and encased in ice; looking at the battlefield gives him much grief.

"I would have this anyway but this" he said to himself, removing his helmet tossing it into the snow, then removing his gauntlets which he also tosses nonchalantly into the snow. He inhales then slowly exhales resting the back of his head against the willow, the sound of the wind swimming through the willow giving the sound of soothing strings and a choir of harmony, such a beautiful sound, the memory of the lonely old man who played the violin outside in the bleak frigid streets of his home took his mind, Boudin always loved the sound of the violin, it took him away from the troubles of this world and the troubles that infested his life.

Running his fingers through his plaited beard, Boudin realised that the cold weather was beginning to take its toll, he could not feel the tips of his fingers, knowing his homeland well, he knows from sheer fact that there are no civilised towns or anywhere in particular to take refuge from the hailstorm that was beginning to brew from the dark clouds that were forming overhead. Face numb with cold, he set out to look for dry wood to start a fire, no stranger to survival it was not long until he found some decent dry wood to set alight. Setting the firewood near the exit of a small isolated cave he noticed while looking for the suitable firewood.

ok, now lets see if I can light this, using what basic knowledge he had with magic he tried to cast fire, nothing, he tried again but gained nothing but a small spark from in-between his palms, growing impatient he tried once more this time taking more time. I really should practice magic more often he told himself; pondering his thoughts he managed to conjure a small flame between his hands, taking no risk of losing it, he hastily cast the flame over the firewood, ah success.

Crouching over the fire he exhaled generously into his hands rubbing them together before facing his palms towards the warmth of the fire, relieved that he survived today he decided to take what little rest he could gather tonight, so that he may get up early to head to his home of Blackburn city. He could see it now, there's nothing more he would want than to see the glistering sparks of the blacksmiths workshop and the tall white-stone buildings and the towering boasting walls that surrounded the city. His heart took refuge in the thought as he closed his eyes for some peaceful sleep…

He awoke the next morning; the weather colder than ever, it was the darkest morning he had ever witnessed as he could not see the dawn, just barely enough light to make a few things out. After scavenging a large stick he wrapped it with a torn off piece of clothe and  then drenching it in the alcohol that was used to treat wounds; Dipping the makeshift torch into the remaining fire he decided that it would be best to get a move on, better than being stuck in an undersized cavern in the oncoming hailstorm that would be sure to arrive only hours away. He shovelled snow over the small fire with his foot before setting out his path to home; young fool.

Many days past, the hailstorm had at no end skewering Boudin's view, he could barely see his own hand in front of his face as his torch was blown out long ago; he was getting hungry. no. he was starving, if he doesn't find Blackburn soon he'll fall victim to the unforgiving weather of winter. To make matters worst he was sure he was being followed, stalked. Keeping eyes in the back of his head he pushed forward, battling the rueful bash of the hailstorms tempest; the stony shards of the icy hail hitting his body like spears, powerful enough to piece the skin. Walking for days, he began questioning his own navigational skills, am I traveling in circles? Scanning his surroundings searching for some clue of his whereabouts, where? where? he noticed a large jagged tree which looked all too familiar during his travels. No. No it can't be. no. The last flicker of hope diminished, and at the mercy of the storm he fell to his knees. Will I ever see my home? I can't even remember the last time i've seen my family. The thought of his home that he built with his very hands buried deep within his battered and bruised consciousness, the pale red stone house towering over the beak of the streets, balcony which towered over the Blacksmith's workshop that he watch every night, the sparks from every precise hit of his hammer, the graceful embers from hot steel and iron, glimmering and taking flight into the frosty night air. He looked up at the dark spiteful sky with grief-stricken, bloodshot eyes.

"Why won't you just kill me?" question aimed at his gods, "What do you want from me?!"

He could feel himself being surrounded; Arctic Timber Wolves. Trying to lift himself up, legs bruised and frozen numb by the hailstorm; he couldn't. They circled in closer, growling and teeth baring, saliva dripping from their mouths savouring the meal to come. Trying the last feeble attempt to save his pitiful life, he arced his hands trying to cast a small fire; hoping the beasts would be threatened by the sudden light. They weren't. Nothing but a small pathetic spark generated from in-between his palms. Time constantly slowed down and sped up, it was not long until he found himself victim to the ferocious grip of the timber wolves fangs around his neck. Firm hold growing tight on his airways; he did not fight, he did not care. The lack callousness and care in his world, tormenting and deteriorating even his fondest of memories. Tilting his head, a small vermilion shaded flower, sticking out of the snow; almost the faintest of smile as he accepted his fate. Light dimmed in and out of sight; darkness consuming, wanting to take its prize. The pain stopped, hearing gone short. Feeling no piercing clutch around his neck; He noticed that the timber wolves were retreating, backing off from something? who or what? Light still fading into and out-of blurred contrast he saw a dark figure approach him, darkness unravelling until his perception was diminished from sight; Hearing shortened and echoed.

Are you ok? hello can you understand me? Hello!? Please don't die! Pleas-…..

Slowly exhaling, the feminine voice trailed off into his mind, he felt himself beginning to sleep, sleep. Thank you.

The sweet scent flourished and filled his nostrils with such delight, brushing his hand through the long lush grass and wheat that grew in-between. Berries, fruit and the festive chattering and tweets of birds in the vast amounts of willows, he felt like he had died and gone to Valhalla; he was convinced. He inhaled, the fresh minty air filling his lungs to the brim he exhaled. The sun risen to the sky, uncovered by clouds, weather clear; not a hailstorm in sight. He couldn't wish for anything more. The empty void that hung onto his human heart; perished. For once in his experiences, he had felt complete. His heart warmed up to the thought, faint smile emerging on his expression. This is the happiest he had ever felt, nothing could make him smile more than he could now. His mortal life so full of death, encircled by famine and war and being at the mercy of the tyranny of his leaders. No more he thought, he thought.

The world around went pitch black, there was no more breeze, no more scent, nothing. A small path of life illuminated in front him, leading up to a small alter. Curious but cautious, he walked the path approaching the white-stone alter. As he got closer he noticed a small object, an amulet? Answer unsure, it was a beautiful deep ebony coloured jewel, radiating with power, shards of ethereal scarlet blue light illuminated from various cracked carvings of the amulet; impossible. His curiosity getting the best of him he made a run at grabbing the exquisite precious stone, vivid repressed memories of his family being slaughtered and his home being desecrated published itself within his mind before being pulled away from the relic; feet dragged along the unworldly surface. The alter faded away into the darkness as he flew backwards. landing on solid ground; Stone ground, cold ground.

Please! wake up! You've got to stay with me! The familiar voice pleading for Boudins survival.

His eyes still shut, inhaling, cold stale air filled his lungs, blood curdling and caught in his throat. He brushed his fingers across nothing but hard stone ground, tips of his fingers frigid, cold and afflicted with frost bite. No sweet scent filling his nostrils; just the same cold, stale arctic air. He tried to draw breath once more, gagging on his own blood, splurting out every bit as he tried again, and again to gain air. All of the pains which shifted throughout his body felt all too familiar, he was indeed still alive; barely.

Boudin needed air badly, any longer he would pass out, again. This time without a second wind.

Don't Die! His saviour turning him on his side, the blood and bile he was constantly regurgitating dribbled out from his throat and nostrils, giving Boudin just enough space in his navel passages for him to draw significant breath. But he was still in danger, the bites and wounds that tainted his body were infected and still bleeding drastically. The large wound that rested on his neck, bitten by one of arctic timber wolves, just missing his jugular by an inch was the first tended to. A bright light flashed, a burning sensation of pain on his neck, then the rest of the wounds on his body felt the same shortly after. Boudin tried opening his eyelids, blinded, light shining brightly into his eyes, he squinted, slowing raising off the ground onto his feet, staggering and regaining his feel of balance; still blinking looking for the origin of the voice.

Hello? it asked for recognition.