Tyrant Quest

Prologue

The rain pours down, falling with a **** that could bow a man to the ground. It is an oppressive cascade, heavy beyond enduring. It soaks one through to the bone, and drops lashed by the wind pierce cloak and armor alike.

The shrieking of the wind among the stones is like the lamentation of the damned, and the cacophonous rain like a thousand cracking whips.

It is bitterly cold, and clouds blanket the sky. It may as well be night; the last night that will ever fall on this wretched earth…

Thunder rolls in from afar, foretelling worse yet to come on the breath of heaven as this wasteful rain spends itself on a hard, barren earth, slaking a sterile soil’s thirst.

Yet beneath this squall springs a field of iron, troops locked in combat as swords ring in a war god’s hymn. Clashing steel rises like the voices of prophets to cry out in rebuke of a cruel, forsaken age.

Orc soldier: For the Dark Lord!... Kill them all!

Female Paladin: Ngh…! Vile fiend…! Your master’s ambitions will never…

The orc soldier slashes the female paladin and she falls to the ground, laying there, **** on her own blood.

Female Paladin: Guh…Uggh…!

Orc soldier: …Forward!!

The battle rages on, great formations swaying to and fro like banners in the wind, the ranks and files of numberless troops slowly shifting across the field.

Bodies fall in the mud, some dead and some still clinging to the last stubborn breath of life…

Blood spills from mortal wounds to form vast pools; ironshod feet stomp in the streaming gore of friend and foe alike, strewing carnage hither and thither as they unceasingly fight.

It is hell on earth.

???: ...a…

Lightning flashes again, illuminating the faces of the soldiers.

Elves, tall and fair and somber, pluck the strings of their bows and loose a rain of arrows to outdo the storm as they plunge the points of their slender spears into the breasts of the howling orcs.

They are swift and graceful, their movements perfectly coordinated, dancing back and forth over the tumultuous battlefield.

Alongside, dour-handed dwarves wield axes and mauls that glow like fire in the lightning’s reflected flash.

Stout and hardy, they beat relentlessly against my flanks, advancing by virtue of sheer determination, unflinchingly holding the ground they have gained.

Their voices are harsh and guttural as they yell their war cries, and their faces are grim as they look upon a flowering field of blood sown by their diligent arms.

The lightning passes, and the thunder’s voice washes over me an instant later. My ears ring with the noise. I survey the progress of the battle, assessing the fruit of so much long campaigning and plotting.

This will…

I pause in my thoughts, noticing something.

???: …as..er…

My certainty falters as I watch the battle. It becomes clearer with every passing moment.

…Something is wrong.

Female Paladin: In the name of the Matriarch! By the axe of Ragnar! By the lance of Eldaron! By the sun,the wind, and the goddess above, we defy your master. You will not triumph!

Orc soldier: …Urk!

Orc soldier: N…No… I can still keep fighting… *gasp* *gurgle*

Elven archer: …Die monster.

Orc soldier: …Urghh…

Female Paladin: Onward! For the Alliance!

I stare with growing anger. Impossibly, unbelievably, the tide is turning. The armies of the Alliance are ringing in my own, and they close in like the drawing of a noose. Much farther, and there will be no escape.

My wrath boils over, and the skies answer in a fiery blaze, bolts of lightning falling as if to smite these curs.

The wind shrieks with my fury, and the rain falls on the heads of my foes as if to make them bow before me, the one who should have been their conqueror and overlord.

I raise my hand and call out to my troops with a voice of dread, the sound of it is enough to fill them with a madness of terror and rage, worse than the lash.

Keshav: ARE YOU NOT THE ARMY OF THE DARK LORD? WILL YOU DRAG MY NAME THROUGH THE MUD? VICTORY OR ****! WHICH DO YOU CHOOSE?

Even the roaring of the thunder is not enough to drown out the answering voices of my troops, and they rally with a new fire, spurred on by fear of my terrible retribution. They know that I am not a merciful soul.

Orc soldiers: WE CHOOSE- -!

???: No…so long… can it…?

Orc soldiers: -- **** TO OUR ENEMIES! VICTORY TO OUR MASTER! FIGHT! KILL! DESTROY THEM ALL!

Yes, that is what I want to hear. They know their master well. They will fight to the very last, for that is my command. They will die for me if they must. This is only natural, for I am the Dark Lord.

My word is law. My will is unquestioned. My power cannot be- -

???: - -BROKEN! Master, can you hear me? Master… Master! Please, wake up!

That’s right. This isn’t real. This battle is already…

I was defeated long ago. All this is just…

The memory passes, falling off me like so many droplets of water.

…How long has it been? It seems like an eternity has passed.

???: …Master!!

Called forth by the voice of a woman, I follow her guidance.