Slate bowed low when he entered the chamber. The silver figure of Marmal quietly pulled the large, ornate doors shut. It still amazed Slate that such a large, ancient temple could be converted into a starship with such ease.
The noise of crunching and tearing continued before him for another full minute, Slates insides twisting at the knowledge of what each sound came from.
Before him, in the center of the chamber, was a large, fur covered figure, hunched over the body of a Titan Corps prison guard.
The room was designed so that the floor slanted downward coming to rest at a large drain, over which the body was laid.
The fur of the creature, normally the color of fresh snow, was stained red from the bestial individual's feast. Underneath the fur, accentuated with each movement, was a mass of muscle which, combined with the clawed hands and razor-sharp fangs, allowed the beast to easily tear through the corpse and relish in it.
At last, the beast stood back up on its hind legs and looked upward. Extending to its full bestial height at nearly twelve feet tall.
A large fountain was connected to the ceiling and it released a flood of water over the beast. As the waters poured over it, washing away the blood, Slate could see its features change. The fur receded, looking as though it was pulled back into the body and the claws returned to normal finger nails. The form began to shrink and the snout pulled back in returning the face to a beautiful, although terrible, visage of a man.
As the waters stopped, leaving a bloody mix at his feet which began to flow into the drain, a pair of servants dressed all in black, complete with veils covering their faces, rushed from out of a shadowy corner and began to dry the man off, and putting him into a set of silver robes, edged with gold.
He turned, his still nearly seven-foot frame making the robes swish, and the servants quickly receded.
Slate stared into the light blue eyes, framed by long, white hair. The man smiled at Slate, revealing his normal sized, although still razor sharp, pristine white teeth.
"What lengths you have gone through to awaken me."
"Well worth it, my master." Slate replied to the deep, rough voice that at times seemed no more than a growl.
"Since you filled my thirst eagerly with these pitiful guards, we are ready now. I possess, though it won't be for long, the memories and knowledge of the poor fools. We must strike while I am sated, lest hunger should weaken me again."
"Forgive me, for I held the staff in my hand, the power to capture whole suns in a single weapon. And I failed you master."
The beast gave a mighty howl like laugh.
"On the contrary. You have shown me the limits of their forces. Now that I know the staff is there, taking it will be easier than devouring a human. Though I doubt you have experience there."
Slate looked a bit disgusted.
"Once we have the staff, we can easily make our way to finding the last pieces. Not much longer now and the powers that be will tremble in remembrance of Rai-gon, the devourer of peoples. My name shall be feared once more, as I," he caught himself and looked over to Slate, "we...will be in control of it all. And not even the darkness will challenge us."
Slate walked away, partially to go and ready the remnants of his armada, but also to get away from Rai-gon.
He had released him from that prison hoping to make him do his bidding.
He was meant to bring justice to Austrorth, who had refused to help them while his wife was sick.
Not become master over Slate.
And now, he was babbling on over how he would be the named feared by the heavens.
Slate hated to admit it, but now he was having second thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
ARC 5 - Oblivions Edge Part 2: Break of Dawn
FantasíaThe love of her life is dead. All she can think about is making someone pay for his death. Until a sound makes her believe he's still alive. What they get is another battle to save a planet, and free a god. Success means more questions, Failure mean...
