A colossal stone circle, surrounded by eight boney spikes atop the giant stone steps. Above the gore-soaked earth he had trudged through for days. Taltosh hauled himself atop the first of these with the last of his strength. No sooner had he sighed his relief than he had fallen asleep, the first moment he'd had since they came here. A horde of men and beasts gathered far away from the structure, screaming creatures soared through the sky. Taltosh saw nothing, heard nothing. He dreamed the ink black dream on those cold, stone steps.
The Grudgebearers saw this gathering, and Azrael led them forward. "He must be there, he has to be there!" he roared as he took off running. Though uncertain, the Grudgebearers followed, perhaps to their doom. The clouds had begun to darken and swirl as the Dark Magic called out. Daemons had begun to gather, breaking out of their host bodies among the beasts and men. Winged, horned monstrosities and spiny, scythed horrors born out of a flash of lightning and an explosion of gore. An army of Chaos had gathered, they were certainly doomed.
Rise.
The voice called out to Taltosh, and he woke with a start at the scene around the circle. And yet, beyond the black sea of monsters, he could make out the four figures that were his comrades. "Madmen," he muttered, watching their apparent charge toward the edge of the horde. But there was no collision, no violent and outright slaughter of those few friends he had. The mass parted, as though for a king's procession, and his fellows came closer. But Taltosh could see something awry. Azrael's gaze was locked on him, unblinking, unflinching as he bore through the flailing creatures all about. This was not the warrior he had come here with. This was a man possessed. By what, he could plainly see. "What have you done..." he lamented, as Azrael reached the edge of the crowd and slowed to a walk.
"...the shadow, it covers your face."
"You will fight."
"I will not fight you."
"You have no choice."
"I stand beside you."
"I stand alone."
"This cannot be the only way."
"You will see. When this is through, mankind will fall."
Azrael charged forward, and Taltosh scrambled to climb to the top. He could hear through the howling and the screeching, the men and daemons chanting:
Destroy him.
When Taltosh reached the top, he knew then that he'd made a horrible mistake. He now stood atop an altar to the Dark Gods. Piles of skulls and ravaged corpses lay scattered across the basin, the enormous circle carved into the rock was filled with the blood of thousands of years of innumerable sacrifices made atop this altar. His fate had become clear, he was to die here on this spot or slay Azrael. There would be no escaping the sacrifice. Azrael climbed on top of the altar.
"Enough running!"
"We are the dead."
"You could have had this power. You have one last chance. Kneel, and serve my master."
"I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees."
DESTROY HIM
No man saw the blow. The light was blinding. The crash was deafening. The two stood feet apart.
Both in pain.
Only one fell...
