He was going to die today. The holy man, Calacus and Theurge of the Virtue and magician of the Spheres, knew this without a shred of doubt in his mind. He had foreseen it in the stars and in his dreams. The Virtue the merciful and one true God of Pythium had graced him with a terrible vision. He trusted in his god and trusted in his own abilities but knew that he would die. And that there was absolutely nothing they or he could do to stop it.
For he knew what would kill him. He knew the face of his killer before they had even met and what a terrible visage to behold. For his murderer was a monster, a beast whose fur was dark as night which walked up right upon cloven hooves and whose wrath and brutality was great and terrible. This beast this creature this monster had been a scourge to the realms of Pythium for years. Everyone knew of the beast by reputation, a vengeful evil demonic creature a servant to some dark paganic God.
Hailing from the wild lands of Pangea but twisted even in comparison to that wild folk. What's worse, this creature was an assassin by trade. It had killed dozens maybe even hundreds and not just the lower classes. It had killed merchants, centurions, officials and priests. Taking a particular pleasure in the holy men, of any faith of man. Taking them as some kind of sacrifice to its dark master and delighting in the anguish and horror it caused amongst the faithful. And nothing could stop it, no number of guards could defend against it no fortification so secure to act as a deterrent. It didn't matter, anyone who became a target of the beast would die. It was simply a matter of time.
So, knowing his imminent demise he did what any good man of faith in his position would do, he prayed. Not to save his own life, he knew that was far behind him, but for a sense of oneness with his god. For comfort to join in communion with the Spheres one last time. He was not afraid to die, he was an old man having lived for nearly four score years, he had fought in the imperial army against his Emperor's enemies against the Tyrants of Phlegra the Lizards of C'tiss and the raiders of Vanarus, he had then retired from service when his age had made him unfit. He had fathered children of his own in that time, he then saw them grow old and saw them raise their own children and die of sickness and war before even he did. He had lived a full life and had no regrets.
So, there he knelt before the small alter to the Angle Virtue. In a small modest domed temple near a collection of simple villages inhabited by men who were none the wiser of what was going to happen. There was no one else in the temple, he had ordered the acolytes and temple servants to go home for the night, he couldn't in good conscious allow them to come to harm by this creature's bloodlust. Then as he was praying and chanting and recanting the sacred hymns. He heard it.
He heard the footsteps, loud and animal like, coming down the gravel road to the temple. Slow deliberate putting force into each step, to make each footfall a distinct thing. The be stealthy if it wanted to, it could have snuck in here without a sound being made, but it didn't. It wanted him to panic, to know that death was coming and die a panicking animal to die without dignity and in utter horror. He would not grant it that satisfaction.
The steps grew louder as the beast got closer, echoing across the empty temple like thunder, before abruptly stopping and the old Theurge just knew on instinct that the beast had reached the doors to his shrine. With that he finished his prayer and getting up from his knees, his aging joints and limbs aching in response, and turned from the alter of the Great Angle to the door. He then called out.
"Beast, I know you are there. I tire of these game's creature, come out and face me, or are you afraid of an old man near on his death bed?" his voice was like iron radiating authority as though scolding a subordinate and not calling out a challenge to a monster. The beast obliged his request.
Slowly, the doors began to open and death itself stepped through. Standing nearly nine feet tall covered with fur like coal across its entire and horns like rams coloured like ivory coming out of its bestial head. the beast stepped through bringing its full terrible glory into this sacred place. In each hand there was a weapon, in its right was a spear as long as the beast was tall tipped with a wide spear tip of a strange silver colour which radiated a wrongness to the magician priest, corrupt sorcery no doubt, in its other hand was something far more macabre. A man's skull on the end of a stick fashioned into a grisly club.
The two figures stared at each other for a quiet moment. Calacus stared into the creatures' eyes, red like the fires of the abyss, which radiated a raw primal malice and unbridled hatred which can barely be fathomed. Just as Calacus stared into the beast, the beast stared back. It was looking for something, a shred of fear or dread or something of that nature, but he wouldn't get it. Not from him, for though faced when this nightmarish creature he naturally felt a deep dread in his heart, he would not let this creature see it.
And he would not go down without a fight.
For though he was accepting of his death, he was still a Theurge of the Spheres some of the most powerful mages in the known world. He had fought for the Empire for two decades and though he was never a great master never rising beyond a mere theurge and his skills had atrophied somewhat with age. He could still give this bastard a fight. He would not die kneeling.
For as the Shrouded Prophet of the Angel said
"It is better for a man to stare death blade in hand, than for a man to simply accept it.
A spell was cast, and a beast lunged.
Yeah decided on doing an actual story for once. I hope you enjoyed it and give me some critique thank you.
