Tales of the World: Ancient Dealings, Ch. 2

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M’Inchros awoke to the sound of gun cocking.

His eyes opened to find himself where he was before: At the execution range.

He looked around blearily at the scene. In front of him, a dozen people in dark blue uniforms aimed their laser lances at him. To the side was the other three dressed in robes of such a dark purple they were black. Everywhere beyond them, smoking ruins ran their sooted fingers across the sky.

“M’Inchros,” one of them said as he stepped forward. He was masked in golden gearwork that shifted with every moment. “We ask the question again: Do you surrender?

Another stepped forward, a spindly creature that hunched in on itself. “All we ask is for you to bring the woman out,” he said. His voice sounded like a hinge in desperate need of oiling.

It took M’Inchros a few moments to get his bearings. He was at the city of Tru’Ista, hours after the last battle, and after T’R’Nos’ traitorous assault on Sh’Tol’s forces. Continue reading

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Tales of the World: Ancient Dealings

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{Author’s note: This is a continuation of a previous story]

“Look into the loneliness,” Void said. “Let it flow into you.”

The man took a deep breath, inhaling a rich scent of myrrh and cinnamon. It reminded him of his mother’s breakfast tea; a peaceful time before all this violent war.

“What do you see?” the Absolute continued.

He closed his eyes and saw a horrific vision: His world, already war-torn by the battles that wracked it, falling into greater disrepair. He could not stop the tears. “My home, gone and ravaged. This place, falling into chaos and evil.”

Void nodded. “I am here to bring an end to this world. To make sure this vision becomes reality.”

The man opened his eyes, and he looked at the tall, gaunt figure with pleading eyes. “But why? What about us, the people who have been the victims of this war?”

Void’s face grew sad. “That is a question I have not yet answered. In the countless eons of existing, I have not found an answer for that.”

The man gazed at the vaulted ceiling for a moment, then focused on another person. Where Void was dark and grim, the other was richly colorful. “What say you with this question?”

Creation shrugged, her outfit of rainbow hues cascading from reds to blues. “I am here on your behalf. Life gives way to death, and all things created turns to the dust to give birth to new creations. Thus is the way of all universes.”

“It is such a seamless ideal that has kept this universe existing,” another person said. The figure was clad in silver chain mail, the head covered by a roughly made metal helmet. “It is the one of the oldest rules. The lives that lived must give way to the death that is to come.” The head tilted a bit. “Likewise, death must give way to the life that arrives.”

The man sighed, breathing more of the mournful scent of world-death. “Is there any way to stop this?”

“Ah. There we head to the point of this question.”
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