The Longest Night (Solo)

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The moon shone brightly over the darkened sky of Corone, the cavern network of Sei Orlouge’s home silhouetted by light making it look like a serene place amidst the playful park near it‘s portal entrance. Home of the Ixian Knights and head quarters to the Orlouge family, it was always a network of activity as the quickly growing legion prepared for a war that was prophesized to come, and come soon.

For this task Sei Orlouge, leader of the Ixian Knights, had conscripted many different warriors who’s names were soon to become legendary. They were his Nine heroic warriors who would not just save this continent, but the world itself. Knowing full well nine warriors were never going to be enough to stop hordes of armies the mute mystic had searched for men and women to join his cause, petitioning soldiers from the military branches of local and foreign Orders. What he was amassing was a testament to his commitment to keep peace reigning supreme.

The story of Sei however is for another tale. This tale is about one of his many soldier’s, a warrior by the name Jensen Ambrose. An immortal who was cursed to never die no matter what. His life was tragic, a story written in the heroic poems told by traveling bards. Yet only one woman, one solitary girl, knew his painful past in its entirety. Her name was Stephanie, a fellow friend of the warrior.

On this night, this serene night that promised tranquility, she had looked up to the sky and sighed. The longest night of Jensen Ambrose was about to begin all over again…

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Light inside the cave was artificial and too dull for Stephanie’s taste. Something about how it illuminated every crack of the shadows bothered her. It was as if her Lord Sei Orlouge was forcing the darkness to expose itself to the light, making it so nothing could be hidden. For all she knew that was his goal. The man had proven to be a mysterious mystic, even defeating her closest friend, Jensen, in a citadel battle that should have humbled the immortal.

The knight let her lips purse out in a pout as she stood at the entrance to the Ixian Knight’s home base, leaning against the rocky formation that was the entrance portal to the cave network. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly around the omens she had been noticing and the demeanor of her partner as of late. She sighed to herself, as she picked herself up and walked back towards her room.

The woman was a member of the secretive order, The Knight’s of Apoclaypse, and was assigned by her council to assist Sei Orlouge in whatever the man needed until the council recalled them. To join her in the mission was two people she knew well enough, Adolph Gretzel, a grizzled warrior who preferred the larger claymore and bastard sword as his art of combat. She herself was a Jester; an assassin who used exotic methods to accomplish their goals. She had proven herself a warrior in the eyes of Adolph when the two were on mission together and they both had a friendly bond between them.

For Jensen Ambrose she wished she could say the same. A fellow Jester class warrior, the enigmatic immortal had entered her life like a tornado that enters a city. He ripped up her foundations, tested her faith, slapped her on the ass, kissed her passionately, and then left without a word save a deep seated laughter of a man who has long since given up hope in life.

As destructive as he was, the woman found herself liking the man eccentric behaviors and manipulated the work orders so she could be assigned more missions with the man. She had learned much about the knight in her travels with him, finding a diamond in his rough exterior. His antics soon made more sense to her and now he was probably her closest, best friend.

She mentally sighed thinking how he didn’t think the same of her.

Rounding a corner in deep thought Stephanie bumped into a woman and knocked her over. Angrily she rubbed her chest looking down upon a fair set of blue eyes and long hair. She looked to be about nineteen in age and her shocked face clicked a name in the knight’s mind.

“I’m sorry, Kyla,” Stephanie said bending down to help her up. “I didn’t know you were coming around the corner so sharp. You alright?” Kyla Orlouge, Sei’s daughter, nodded her head once as she took the proffered hand and was back to her feet in seconds. She smiled to Stephanie looking over her face, and then her lips lowered to curiosity as she cocked an eye brow.

“You are Stephanie, right?” she asked unsure of her self. Stephanie in turn nodded her head, bowing it slightly in respect to her lord’s daughter. “You seem troubled, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Stephanie lied.

“You’re pouting and you got worry lines all over your face. Come on I live with Anita, and she has that same look all the time Papa goes out. What’s on your mind?” Stephanie looked to her and debated her options. True she had to obey any orders that were given to her by a member of the Orlouge family, but this was a private matter. Not only that but the person she was thinking about happened to be a love interest of the mystic’s daughter. Weakly she looked around to see if anybody was listening.

“I’m just thinking about Jensen,” she said. Kyla’s face flushed a little red at the mention of his name, for not a few hours ago the immortal was wooing her off her feet with song and dance. It was a night that not many could easily forget, and this particular case Stephanie knew the sole reason why he was doing his damndest to find a partner.

“Yeah, how is he?” Kyla asked, wincing as she remembered that it was Stephanie who lifted up the unique gunblade and shot her friend in the face to end his stupidity.

“He’s fine, resting now. The hole cleared up.” she spoke waving her hand as if this was an everyday occurrence. Kyla merely looked to her oddly before she peered around herself. A mischievous smile crept upon her face as she leaned in close.

“Is he, uh, up?” she asked, her intent clear as day. Stephanie shook her head.

“No, he won’t be awake until the morning.” Kyla pouted, but then shrugged as she smiled again.

“Well maybe he would like some company when he does,” Kyla winked to her, feeling the freedom to talk plainly to one of Jensen’s friends, but the girl didn’t know the half of it. She knew nothing about the guy she had fallen in lust with. Stephanie sighed as she pushed past her and walked to her room. Kyla turned to follow her, knowing that Jensen and Stephanie shared a room together.

“Don’t be stupid,” Stephanie said turning on her with anger in her tone. “He’s not what you think he is! Tonight was an act, a façade!” To the girl’s credit she didn’t back down from her gaze and instead motioned for her to lead on. Stephanie shook her head sadly as she lead her to her room.

The appointed hole they lived in was spacious, carved out were three cubbyholes and two twin beds were against either side of the walls. Upon the left side of the bed was Jensen, sleeping peacefully as his chest heaved up and down. Whatever events had taken place hours before had long since disappeared, his face looking natural like the moment Kyla met him. Stephanie sat on Jensen’s bed, lifting his head up and placing it gently in her lap as she looked to the girl.

“Oh my,” Kyla said quickly turning even redder then before. “I didn’t know you, I mean, I…he never mentioned…”

“We aren’t dating,” Stephanie said, smiling as the thought made her giggle. “I can barely stand being in the same room with him. It’s just that I know tonight is special for him…” she said sadly letting her fingers run through his hair.

“Why is that?” Kyla asked. It was such an innocent question and her curiosity reminded the female knight of her own long ago. She took in a deep breath and lifted out a scroll from her cubby above Jensen’s bed. She unraveled the paper and smoothed it with her hands over Jensen’s sleeping face. She spoke a few words of power and placed the paper on the wall. With a loud pop the air seemed to heat up a tiny fraction, but it was a rather welcome change in the dank cavern.

“Sorry, I just don’t want everyone to know his story. It’s a little scroll I carry around, keeps eavesdroppers from listening in.” Stephanie smiled to her as she looked down upon Jensen, who shifted softly in her lap turning into her stomach and nuzzling up against her. “As you wish, Lady Kyla, I will tell you the story of Jensen Ambrose.”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen felt the grip of the winter times in Berevar grasping deep to his bone, chilling his body as several junior knights moved around him. He moved silently, they all did, as he drifted back and forth in the snow that came up to their waist. He wrapped his coat tightly around his shoulders, his hood already pulled over his head and tied tightly in double knots as the fur offered little protection from the frost.

The water canteens had frozen over and food had been scarce for the traveling Knights of Apocalypse, keeping their pace brisk in defiance of the elements. Jensen looked to his right, teeth chattering as his saw Chanelle rubbing her shoulders for warmth. He moved closer to her, lifting one frozen hand out and wrapping it around the Fallien desert girls shoulders, rubbing them for her.

“Concentrate on your chest for warmth. Your shoulders will warm themselves in time,” he said sagely, holding her tightly as his hands moved in a vicious rhythm to keep her blood circulating. She smiled to him, a pathetic grin as her teeth chattered wildly in the cold.

“Th-th-thanks-s-s,” she chattered. Jensen smiled to her, holding her tightly. Denzel, the leader f this expedition turned to them, his own teeth chattering but his eyes filled with confidence.

“We’re almost home guys, we just have to survive this storm and we’ll be at the hold.”

Jensen nodded to Denzel’s encouragement, turning back and lifting his other arm out another teen who trailed behind him. The boy took his hand and Jensen pulled him forward and gripped him tightly, rubbing his body as he tried to keep him afloat.

“I wish Charlie was here,” the boy whispered. “A senior knight knows the runes to call forth ahead and get a team out to rescue us.” The knights all shook their head at his words.

“We must survive this without aid,” Chanelle said moving away from Jensen as if his aid was no longer acceptable. She made way towards Denzel, placing a hand of reassurance on his shoulder as they broke over the top of a hill. “The horsemen will not tolerate the weak, Miguel.” The boy looked to Jensen, leaning in on the knight and sighing deeply as Jensen just rubbed him a little more.

“It’s going to be okay, buddy,” he assured him. Miguel nodded to himself, holding his jacket a little tighter as he trotted forwards. Jensen looked behind him to see if anything had been following him, praying deeply that a coyote or a wolf did. Killing and gutting the beast would offer a brief moment of warmth, and some food to eat. There would be no such luck for that, however.

Shivering as he walked and teeth still clattering he edged over the hill, feeling the cold breeze of the gods upon his covered flesh. It felt like the wind blew right through his coat, fighting against his protection and moving right for his blood as he began to whimper from the cold.

Silently the group walked down the hill, keeping their thoughts silent. Nobody felt joviality at the current moment, nobody willing to crack a joke. Jensen began to wonder how long it would be until they reached Death’s Cradle, the stronghold of the Apocalypse in the Salvarian region. It was that bastion that sent them out into the wilds in search of a group of bandits, their first mission as Junior Knights. It had been a successful attack, but their Senior Knight detached to them, Charlie, had died in the assault, killing a powerful mage who bent the winds of magic to himself to create blizzard with which his bandit army could attack in. The magi’s final words had burst every blood vessel in Charlie’s head.

Standard procedure for junior knight’s was to band together, giving control to the warrior who completed the most field assessments. That was Denzel, a blond haired, blue eyed youth of roughly thirteen. He was a prodigy in the knights, eating up lessons and learning them at an alarming rate. He was on a fast track to being placed in one of the Avatar’s legendary units, a fact he took pride in.

To assist him in delegations and to support Denzel in these times was Chanelle, a fallien desert woman of the age fifteen who was on training maneuvers with the knight’s stationed in Death’s Cradle. She had taken fewer classes in the field, instead focusing more in the applied arts of battle. Her lethality with a saber would be stuff of legends when she grew up. Miguel was a knight born warrior of the age twelve, born in the Labyrinth of Pestilence in the Revan region of the world. He had studied magical arts, but all his spells were about weakening a foe, something that everyone sighed learning about as they began to freeze.

Jensen, the youngest of the group, was only freshly out of his Squires training. He had the least experience, but he had spent nearly six months with these kids and they became close friends. Everyone worked to keep the others a float as Denzel made every tactical choice when it came to their safety. So far they had been relatively fine, but this winter cold and storm had gotten them lost.

Denzel lifted up his hand, pointing to a shallow rock formation where the snow seemed less heavy. Signs indicated that the breeze didn’t penetrate that area and the group all nodded making way towards their sanctuary. Jensen felt the cold bite at his ears, feeling a tense headache lifting up from the constant movements of his jaw. He was the last in line as they reached their destination, tripping in the snow and not moving a bit as the tension in his muscles felt at ease for finaly not moving.

Chanelle and Miguel both ran to him, picking him up and dragging him into their sanctuary as Denzel brought out his final bundle of sticks, working with his flint and paper to attempt the third fire of the day. As he struck the materials with little sparks, he spoke confidently of their plans.

“We’ll stick here tonight, sleep through the worst of the storm, and then travel the rest of the way, is that okay with everyone?” They all nodded as one.

“Jensen, why don’t you take first watch, while we try to get the camp ready.” The knight nodded, his body freezing in protest.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The camp was never set up. It had proven impossible with even the cover of the rocks to get a fire going with the baleful winds passing by. Chanelle had attempted to hold the canteens in a tight bear hug, hoping her warmth would melt some of the frozen liquid. In truth she succeeded, but the few droplets were not enough to satisfy anyone’s thirst. The meager portions of liquid available went to Miguel who was panting heavily. Denzel called everyone in for a talk as he pulled out his sleeping blanket.

“We have to stick together tonight, we don’t have a choice in this matter. I’ll take the far left, Chanelle, I want you to take the far right. Jensen why don’t you and Miguel be butt buddies in the middle?”

Laughter filled the area as Jensen blew a kiss to Miguel, who rolled his eyes and walked over to the sleeping area pulling out his blanket. Chanelle and Jensen looked to each other and the knight felt his heart twinge. She was beautiful, long black hair and those desert brown eyes spoke volumes to him. He wasn’t sure what she thought of the boy on his first mission, but she was friendly enough to him.

“Denzel, why doesn’t Chanelle take my spot, I’m sure Miguel was looking for any reason to spoon with her,” Jensen said slyly. They laughed again, Miguel looking to her with a stupid grin on his face. She laughed loudly, moving forward and rubbing her butt against Miguel’s crotch as she bent down to grab something.

“Not a bad idea,” she mused. “His fat lard will help keep me warm.” Jensen howled as Miguel pushed her away from him, Denzel tearing up as he sat down preparing for bed. “If it’s okay with you commander, I’ll take Jensen’s spot.” Denzel nodded once and Jensen moved to the end of the group laying down and lifting his blanket over him.

“Wow, it’s like the blanket isn’t even there,” Jensen said aloud as he felt the cold earth reach out like tiny talons into his warm skin. His body began to shake as he moved himself closer to Miguel who lifted his blanket to allow the knight further access in. Chanelle got in bed behind Denzel, wrapping one arm around his chest and rubbing it softly as they both backed up into Miguel. His hand moved out to her hip, running his fingers along her body in a slender way.

“Miguel, that’s not keeping me warm…” Chanelle teased.

“It’s keeping me warm,” he replied with a grin. She grunted and elbowed him in the side, making everyone readjust. Denzel irritably moved around, propping himself up on one hand as he glared to his team.

“Okay guys, serious up now. Proper procedures only from here on out. We need to keep warm or well all die, that understood?” he ordered.

As one they replied their consent to his order and he moved back in. As one they moved closer to each other, Jensen’s teeth chattering wildly as he placed his hand over Miguel and began to softly rub the boy’s chest. Miguel’s body temperature was colder than he would have first thought and he moved more of his blanket onto the boy. Miguel leaned back a fraction towards Jensen, his eyes giving him silent thanks.

“Anybody know any good ghost stories,” Jensen mumbled.

“Not procedure, Jensen.” Denzel mumbled.

“Well I don’t know about you guys but I can’t just close my eyes and sleep,” Jensen whined. “Somebody tell me a story to get my mind off this damn cold!” Chanelle shifted a bit, so her words could be more easily heard in the wind.

“If it’s okay with Denzel, I know a good story from Fallien about the land of Far Kalad and the desert scorpions. My father told me it when I was your age and I couldn’t think about anything else for a week.”

Denzel feigned a shrug. “If it keeps the loudmouth quiet,” he said tiredly, yawning. A chain effect of yawns escaped everyone’s lips as Chanelle began her tale.

“About forty years back in Fallien, there was an enchanting strip of land known as Kalad. There the oasis were not just a respite from the desert heat, but a paradise worthy of the gods themselves…”

~*~*~

Hours had drifted, and Chanelle and Jensen were the only two still awake, the girl caught up in her story, and Jensen freezing so badly he couldn’t control his body as it shook violently. She was speaking about how her grandfather was fighting with just a spear against a scorpion when she stopped and listened. Jensne’s torment was audible and she looked back at the boy. Pity washed over her face as she saw that he was turning a twinge of sickly blue in his face, none of his clothes protecting him from the cold.

She moved herself from the group, probably the warmest seat in the sleeping arrangement and pulled Jensen up to her in a hug as she began to warm his body with hers. The cold nipped at her but she fought past that, thinking to her desert home and gaining warmth from her memories. Jensen still froze and she carried him to her spot, placing him in it.

Out of sheer repetition Miguel’s hand instinctively reached for Jensen’s chest, rubbing it with his own warmth. Denzel startled awake and looked back at the group. With a nod of understanding he sacrificed four inches of his blanket to Jensen, and Miguel did likewise as Chanelle took his place at the back of the line.

Jensen wept for their generosity, his body to cold to deny them this on his honor of pride. He greedily took what he got and felt his body softly begin to warm. The cold air dropped a few degrees, but he closed his eyes as Chanelle picked up where she left off, her teeth chattering in as she told the story to help the young knight sleep.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The birds cried out in the morning dawn, a song so beautiful that herald the new day it made Jensen smile as he opened his eyes. Denzel and the others were still sleeping, and he noted the air was still cold, but nowhere near as bad as the night before. Yawning loudly he got out of the bed, placing the blankets upon Denzel and Chanelle gently as he readjusted Miguel’s. They all slept soundly, not moving as he crept silently around them.

He went to his bag, picking up a throwing knife and a small hand bow loading the chamber with a mechanical click. He nodded in confidence as he set out into the wild, lowering his hood to get a better view of the surrounding Tundra.

Off in the distance he could see the towering form of Death’s Cradle, the largest tower belonging to the avatar of death, Corvus Mortarian. He had never seen an avatar before, but had been told many stories of their majesty and deadly auras as one of the embodiments of the horsemen. He let off a silent prayer of the hunt in the horsemen of War’s name, and began to search for small game to bring back for the others to eat. With no howling winds surely they could easily start a fire.

The snow that fell down had organized itself like a blanket upon the earth, no unsmooth patches. The tree’s branches were littered in the white slush, like newly blossomed leaves. The sky above had no clouds in it, the storm passing off into the mountains off in the east away from the Apocalypse stronghold.

He crept lightly in the fallen drift, feeling the soft crunch his boots made in the morning air. He kept silent as he hunted, looking for signs of life. He turned to his left, spotting the first sign of good fortune. A coyote was stalking for prey not twenty yards away from him. Jensen didn’t move, instead lifting up his bow as he looked for what the coyote was searching for. When the mountain animal sniffed by a log a rabbit gave haste to a swift escape. The coyote howled out in the morning air, and then gave chase. Jensen cursed as he too followed, aiming his bow as he ran taking steady breaths.

When the rabbit broke from the trees Jensen fired, and his shot rain true as it slammed the bunny in the back taking a meaty chunk with it. It stumbled on the ground, and the warrior moved upon it quickly as he prepared his knife for the coyote. It didn’t take long for both hunters to meet upon the dying body of the wounded creature. Jensen held his knife at the ready, shooing the beast away with confidence.

The coyote circled him, carefully watching his every move before it sprang in to attack. Jensen jumped back, swiping downwards as the Coyote’s snout was grazed. It landed on the ground growling, but it didn’t make another move on the knight. Feeling his moment Jensen took another step forward, swinging with his knife. The coyote barked, moving backwards before it growled and ran off in search of other prey.

Victorious in his fight Jensen lifted his prize up by the hind legs, letting out a cheer of mirth as he moved back towards his camp. He killed the rabbit to end its suffering, feeling a small feeling of pity for the pathetic beast, but he also felt his stomach silence those thoughts. He knew he was hungry, and so was everyone else he imagined. When he reached the camp he saw them all still sleeping.

“Hey, lazy asses!” Jensen cried out to them as he lifted the rabbit like it were a trophy. “Come on, get up, I got breakfast!” None of them moved.

“Get up you idiots!” Jensen called out with a forced laugh, his nerves starting to sting as he felt a wave of panic rush down his spine. He lowered the rabbit. “Guys…guys get up!” he called out, no mirth in his tone, no joviality. “GUYS!” Jensen shouted, his echoes calling out into the world behind him as the rocks shook small patches of fresh snow drift onto the floor below. “GET UP!” Jensen shouted, his voice in a panic.

Jensen dropped the rabbit as he ran to them, reaching Denzel first. He shook the boy violently, slapping him across the face. He noticed the boy’s body felt like ice and he began to swell up with tears as he shook him violently.

“No-No-no, no, no, no, NO!” Jensen cried. He moved to Miguel next, feeling the boy’s body. Frozen as well. He jumped over their bodies to reach Chanelle, feeling her neck and placing a hand in front of her mouth. She let out no breaths, and her pulse wasn’t existent. “NO!!!” Jensen screamed as he began to rub her body with his hands, taking off his jacket and placing it around her as he attempted to warm her bones.

“Get up, wake up!” He repeated like a mantra as his arm tears fell upon her frozen face. “Come on, please, wake up!” he begged. When he tried to wake her up for five minutes he came to a conclusion that made him drop her body and sit upon his butt, eyes in disbelief.

“It’s…it’s all my fault…” Jensen whined. “If I hadn’t been such a baby! If I wasn’t so whiny about the cold!” He began to deteriorate, mumbling incoherently how everything was his fault. He sobbed like a new born, pounding his fists into the ground in a temper tantrum as he cried out to the horsemen to fix his problems.

When he received no divine answer he stuttered into a whimper, feeling his bones weary and his eyes aching. Hours passed in the morning, and the child Jensen didn’t know what to do. He began to bob back and forth on his haunches, holding himself tightly as he looked to them in their dead states. Hunger tried to snap him out of his zombie like trance, but he continued to bounce back and forth. Eventually only by the sound of crunching noises did he awaken from his depression.

He stood up and looked over the rock, and found a patrol from the castle doing its usual rounds. He didn’t know what to say or what to do, so instead he just screamed. He screamed loud and forever it seemed, and the party of scouts ran over to him. They recognized his outfit as one of their own and they immediately took control of the situation. The leader of the group pulled Jensen aside, holding the boy as the others checked on the dead.

With sorrowful shakes of their heads they reverently wrapped the bodies up in their blankets. One of the scouts returned Jensen’s jacket to him, and in a robot like state he put the jacket back on, automated in every action he did. He listened to instructions, nodded his head in acceptance as the man kept a firm grip on Jensen’s shoulder. It was as if he knew by releasing his grip on the boy the boy would lose all his sanity to his grief.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

They walked for several minutes, maybe even an hour, Jensen lost track of time. He couldn’t’ process anything at all, his mind a blur of thoughts. He just moved like an undead shambled wreck, feeling nothing in his body but the hand upon his shoulder. Something called to him, and he prayed, prayed beyond anything else in the world it was the voice of one of his friends. Instead he still saw their lifeless, bundled up forms. His gaze turned to the man who held him, and saw it was he who was talking to him.

“I asked your name five times, boy.” he said, no venom or hostility in his tone, but understanding.

“Jensen, Jensen Ambrose…” he mumbled. The man squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Jensen Ambrose, I am Xavier Sigma, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jensen only nodded his head. “I’m going to take care of you for a while, okay Jensen?” The boy nodded again. “You can talk, right?”

“Yes sir,” Jensen mumbled.

“Then do that.” Xavier said in a stern voice as if it was an order. Jensen looked up to his yes, seeing the golden orbs and feeling a warmth from them. He saw a trust in those eyes, and understood what the man meant by his words. He wanted Jensen to speak from his heart for his fallen friends.

“I…It’s all my fault!” He cried, tears returning to his eyes. “I shouldn’t have been such a coward! It was just a little cold…I should have stayed on the end and then…and then…” Jensen didn’t know what. He didn’t care, but living was the worst feeling in the world right now.

“And then what? Leave this grief you feel for another of your friends? Some pal you are, Jensen Ambrose.” Xavier said with amusement. Jensen shot him a dark glare, which he returned with a kind look. Jensen wanted to back talk him, say something, but what could he say? Xavier had a point. He was merely wishing to substitute his pain for death, and give his grief to another one of his friends. The more he thought about it, the more selfish he felt.

“Death, pain, grief,” Xavier muttered. “All part of the trinity of passing on. I don’t know much about you, kid, but I can see in your eyes you cared a lot for your friends. Do yourself a favor, and for them, and get over your grief. It will do you no good, and it will do them no good.”

“I can understand those thoughts, but to practice them,” Jensen felt his chest grow heavy. “That’s a whole different game.” Xavier released his hand, gently and slowly, patting the boy on the back.

“If it was easy then nobody would care about dying,” Xavier said jovially. He pointed forwards and Jensen followed his gaze towards the doors to Death’s Cradle. There several knights ran forward to aid the patrol party. Jensen felt Xavier softly push him forward and Jensen took in a deep breath. He looked to the bodies, and felt guilt build up within his body. He turned back to Xavier, who gave him an encouraging nod.

Stepping forward Jensen approached the highest ranking officer he could find. The man ordered a few knight around and with an ugly glare he eyed the boy.

“Acting commander Junior Knight Jensen Ambrose reporting on the Salvarian Blizzard Bandits.” he saluted the warrior, who nodded to him giving him a bit more of his attention. “Mission status is complete. Casualty report is as follows. Killed in Action: Senior Officer Charlie Legault. Killed in Action: Junior Knight Denzel Vermillion, Chanelle Kim-Hotep , Miguel Sanchez.”

As he spoke their names he felt a burden upon his chest lift, but a painful swelling in his eyes. By reporting their status as killed, he acknowledge within his heart that they were truly gone. No more jokes, no more camaraderie, no more friendship. It was difficult for the Junior Knight to accept this, but once he did he felt significantly better.

“I wish to arrange the funeral procession for the Junior Knights,” Jensen added. The commander looked down to him, and then up at the castle. With a soft mutter he looked to the boy. “Aye, let it be done, boy. Report to me when you have preparations prepared.”

Jensen looked to his friends one last time as they were dragged away, and then entered Death’s Cradle, tears still in his eyes.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Kyla sat on Stephanie’s bed with her knees drawn in, holding herself tightly as she looked to the female knight and then down to Jensen. Stephanie merely ran her fingers through his hair as her friend slept, looking down upon his face with a kind smile.

“That,” Kyla couldn’t even form the words. To describe how painful that feeling must have been was like telling a child the physics of bird flight.

“He did hold their funeral for them. Each one was given a proper burning of the body, and then a burial plot with the catacombs of Death’s Cradle. He sealed their tombs himself. Xavier Sigma watched over Jensen for a while, just like he promised he would. He taught him and helped him cope with his loss and the guy sorta became a father figure for Jensen. Unfortunately for Jensen, Xavier was eventually relocated to the prime castle, the Bastion of the Apocalypse.” Stephanie looked up to Kyla with a kind smile. “Don’t ask where it’s located, I’m already spilling way more beans than I should be.”

The daughter of Sei shook her head, the thought never crossing her mind.

“An interesting note is that after he buried them Jensen meditated for nearly two days. He stopped only to drink water, but that was it. When he awoke he had this grand idea, and cut the sleeves off his trench coat and removed the waist strap.” She pointed to the immortal’s jacket showing the signs of crude sewing. Kyla nodded as she saw it, seeing a new class of taste in the article of clothing.

“He cut those sleeves and made it so he could never get warmth from the coat again.” Stephanie eyed the coat herself, sighing as she looked to it and down upon Jensen’s face again. “It’s not some penance or sick ritual to atone. He did it so he would never forget them. Open the coat, Kyla. Look upon the back.”

Kyla stood up, stretching her legs first as she peered upon the jacket. Sure enough she saw three names sewn into the jacket. She smiled running her finger over each name, feeling a warmth coming from them unlike any fire could produce. She returned to the edge of Stephanie’s bed and looked to Jensen.

“Why do you run your fingers through his hair?” Kyla asked. Stephanie let out a silent snort of mirth, her fingers flexing upon his scalp. This caused Jensen to nuzzle deeper into Stephanie’s lap, his feet curling in. A stupid smile crept upon his lips as one of his fingers flexed outwards, stroking the edge of the pillow.

“He loves it. Just likes to feel a gentle touch upon his scalp, a soft tugging that’s enrapturing and calming. Jensen is softer than most people give him credit for, but then again he’s usually acting like an ass,” They both laughed. “Unfortunately, despite all of Xavier’s encouragement, Jensen never made anymore friends. He refused to. Losing the closest people to his heart like that deadened that vein in his soul. To get to where Adolph and I are now took four years. And we aren’t even friends of his, according to him.” Stephanie smiled.

“How sad,” Kyla whispered. “To live a life with no friends?”

“That’s how Jensen can operate without losing it. But he wasn’t always an asshole, in fact there was a time when he was still very civil to talk to. Not this boisterous enigmatic immortal we know and loath now.” she smiled. “You see, as secretive as we were, there were orders that knew of us, and opposed us. The Order of Saint Bartholomew being the biggest headache in our history. During this time Jensen was an upstanding roll model, and he had just been promoted to Senior Knight…” Stephanie said, leaning back against the wall as she ran her fingers through Jensen's hair like it was soft grass.

Kyla did likewise as she leaned against the back of the cave wall, her grin spreading from ear to ear.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen felt his body sweating in the desert heat of the Fallien region, the sun overhead beaming down like a guardian of the sky, using its rays of light to ward off would be attackers. He felt his stomach, drying his sweaty palms off on his shirt as he turned back towards the camp.

The sight always took his breath away. It was rare, very rare, when the Knights of Apocalypse gathered in any force, but to see over six thousand of his brethren in the camp just beyond the dune he stood upon made his mind marvel at the majesty of it all. He watched the rows of soldiers all grinding their axes, sharpening their blades, or fixing battle plate. The wizards huts worked to keep the worst effects of the draining sun off their backs, and in the center of the nexus was one large oval tent, their magical wards clear as day to prevent any sudden attacks.

Detached from the main hut was four large towering tents, each one belonging to an avatar of the horsemen. His skin crawled in delight as he kept grinning, thinking that he, a humble Senior Knight, would be marching to battle with legendary titans of their order. He looked back out over the sand towards the mountains where the order of Saint Bartholomew held one of their bases. He felt pity for them in his heart, and with a soft chuckle he moved down towards his tent.

He was lucky to have a tent further from the center of everything. It made it easy for him to find his quarters in the market like hub he surrounded. The inner circle knights resided within the central ring, closest to the avatars, the will of the council made manifest as well as their praetorian protectors. Near each tower like tent of the avatars were their personal retinues, but they ventured out to mingle with the senior knights about as often as an avatar would; which was never.

He stood under the shade of his makeshift barracks, two rows of cots, six in each line, with a ceiling made of four posts and a sheet. Twelve warriors were gathered around their one central table, a circular thin piece of wood for easy transport, or if need be, something they could leave behind. Each member of his assigned squad was talking merrily about the recent scuttlebutt, who was in who’s squad, what commanders were leading what squads, and the general rumors of what they could expect from the Order of Saint Bartholomew.

Jensen had only recently been appointed Senior Knight, and this was his first assignment. He would be damned if he didn’t make a good example of what a knight should be. He cleared his throat loudly, and the men and women and the table quickly stood to attention. All of them were Junior Knights, each of varying ages.

“We should not be so lax, when the enemy is only four miles away,” Jensen said in a teacher like tone. He paced before them, motioning to their cots with his head and quickly they dispersed to stand before their beds, arms at their side as they stood erect and ready for inspection.

The senior knight walked up to each member of his squad, studying their facial features and committing it to memory. He wanted to know each member of his squad by sight to eliminate confusion on the battle field, and wanted them to remember his face as well. When he was done making his rounds he looked upon their table, seeing the cleaning oils and sharpening stones scattered every which way. Only one weapon seemed to be suitably sharpened and cleaned for battle, the rest having spots missing and blunt edges.

He lifted up an axe and ran his finger along it, wincing in his mind as he cut his flesh only half way down the axe. He lifted it up and gave an inquisitive eye. A barrel chested boy, probably nineteen in age, stood forwards and looked dead ahead, his eyes not wavering as he knew the implications of his failure.

“You expect to cut something with this?” Jensen scolded him. “What do you plan to do? Run up to them and beat them with your blunt weapon? Teach them a lesson with mercy by pounding away with your axe like it were a hammer?”

“Look at the mighty Jensen Ambrose, see how a little bit of power goes to his over inflated ego,” A voice called out behind the senior knight, and he turned with glaring eyes as he looked to his offender. When he matched his gaze with the golden orbs of the intruder he cracked a wide grin. What ill intents he had were quickly dropped as he ran over to the man and stuck his hand out.

“Xavier Sigma!” Jensen shouted, pleased to see the man for the first time since he was a boy in Death’s Cradle. Quickly he turned to his unit. “Sharpen your toys into weapons, and then polish your armor. I want it so shiny you’ll blind the enemy with it!” A chorus of confirmation filled the air and Jensen stepped outside into the larger camp site to talk with the man he could only call a friend.

“Well met, Jensen,” Xavier said patting the boy on the back. “It’s been a few years since we last had a chance to meet. I’ve been hearing rumors they call you the ‘Blessed Immortal’ now.” they both chuckled to the nickname.

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded laughing as he ran one nervous hand down the back of his head. “No matter what I always seem to cheat death. I’ve been stabbed two or three times, but I luckily never bled to death. One time I got knocked senseless by a bear, but I stood up the next morning. Mind you I felt proper right dizzy for weeks.” They both laughed. As they stopped at the edge of camp, looking out over the entire congregation of warriors.

“It’s such a blessing to be able to rise again and do the bidding's of the horsemen.” Xavier nodded to Jensen, his hands reaching to his canteen as he sipped and offered it to the blessed immortal. The knight took the water bottle and drank a few drops corking it.

“Have you ever seen such a glorious gathering, my boy?” the man said in awe. “Six thousand Knights, the largest gathering in our history since the demon wars. Four avatars, each one of them are here! Let it sink in, Jensen, you will never see a gathering like this again in a very long time.”

“Not if I never die,” Jensen joked. Xavier smiled to him before he leaned in close, his gaze piercing and eyes willing Jensen to be truthful as he looked upon the senior knight.

"How have you been?" he asked softly. Jensen looked to him, but instead of smiling he merely sighed. Xavier was about to touch the boy but Jensen quickly replied.

"It's been rather tough, but I've been making the most of it. I won't let their deaths hold me back anymore," Jensen said in a whisper of determination, feeling the weight of his jacket upon his shoulders like it were a burden. As soon as he said those words the weight lifted a bit and he smiled to Xavier, who merely smiled back.

"Good, because if you were still sucking your thumb like a baby at the prospect of this battle I'd be in trouble." Jensen shrugged to him as he looked back over the camp.

"With such a gathering as this the Order of Barf is in deep trouble my friend." Jensen said, using their orders nickname for their enemy.

Xavier laughed with him, clasping his shoulder with his hand as he led him towards the central tent. “Where we going?” Jensen asked, clasping his arm around Xavier’s shoulder as they walked as comrades in arms.

“We have a meeting to attend. The four avatars wish to meet with all the commanders and squad leaders to discuss the coming battle.” Jensen nodded before his steps faltered. Xavier produced a kind grin as he turned to the boy, thumbing the tent.

“That’s right boy, you get to meet the avatars.”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The central tent was crowded with well over two hundred warriors. Serfs and squires ran around the tent, passing out dossiers prepared by the generals and making sure everything was set up properly for the coming of the avatars. They didn’t like to wait, or so one assumed and thus great haste was made to ensure everything was ready. The noise in the room was a loud whisper, many soldiers looking to each other expecting great things to come.

A solitary Coronian oak table stood in the center, with four thrones waiting for their owners to come sit upon them. One was made of pure brass, a rusted sickly color running down the sides with a curved arm rest and padded chair cushions that showed age. Next to that was a wrought iron piece of work, the back like the gates to a cemetery and no cushions of which to sit upon. Fallien desert roses were placed into the workings, but they had wilted away and died in kind. Across from these two chairs was a simple rotted wooden chair, the pillows covered in mold and mildew. Next to that was the final seat, a simple mahogany polished chair, complete with two spears for the back legs that stretched up the highest.

Jensen was on his tip toes peering over the shoulders of several gathered warriors. It seemed the only people who would be sitting were the avatars, the rest of the warriors all forced to stand. He felt foolish for being so worked up to see the avatars, but then again he was also expecting a more private audience, not nosebleed seats in the back. Xavier merely kept his calm and counsel to himself, watching the congregation grow more and more excited. Jensen pondered if the knight was excited as he to see the avatars up close. The man glanced to him, eyeing him and reading his thoughts shaking his head.

“I’ve never met them in person, but I’ve seen them,” Xavier gestured to the group around them. “I’ll not be acting like some attention whore when they come in. We aren’t here to give them fanfare, we are here to give war to Saint Bartholomew.” Jensen nodded to those words, turning his face to a more serious look as he calmed his nerves.

A rushed silence fell over the room as the serfs and squires were escorted out by an honor god of inner circle knights, signaling that the time was drawing near. A pulse of excitement ran through like waves in a pond, hitting each layer of the gathered mass and infecting them with the mystery of seeing the avatars up close. Jensen felt this aura as well, and his heart beat wildly like he was talking to a woman he loved for the first time. Words began to grow hazy and distant as he wondered what his own name was.

If this was the power an avatar could bring just by being near him, he could only imagine his state of mind when he met one in person.

The first to enter was a woman, roughly the same a head shorter than the immortal and a porcelain pale skin and raven black hair that draped only around her face not going past the top of her neck dyed red at the tips. She was dressed in a leather tunic, a deep purple of nobility and wore a simple battle skirt with skin tight acrobatic like shorts underneath. Her belt was made of thorns from a dozen rosebushes and her sneer of contempt as she looked to the warriors was of a woman who despised the attention the men were giving her. Along her right arm was a small trinket, a mere bracelet. Melinda Dahlios, Avatar of Pestilence took her seat in the simple wooden chair and crossed her legs in a huff.

Next to enter was a man of six feet or more, his body draped in robes blacker than a moonless night. He carried a scythe with him, it’s sheen foreboding and making Jensen gulp loudly. His eyes were like tiny igneous rocks, so heavy set and unfeeling it was like the eyes of the grave itself. His hair flowed behind him, long and reaching out like the hand of death. His skin was alabaster white, and he didn’t smile, didn’t frown, but instead carried a look of eternal mourning. Looking upon him was facing the mortality within your soul and accepting your limited time upon this plane. Taking his seat in the wrought iron chair, Corvus Mortarian, Avatar of Death, prepared for the counsel.

Next to enter was the antithesis to Corvus, a man dressed in pure white with a yellow symbol across his robes. Where Corvus’ was one piece, this seemed more like a priests jacket. He had a unpleasant scowl across his face, like this meeting was wasting his precious time. Arrogance matched this theory and he moved with purposeful steps that made no indentations upon the sand. He had blonde hair, short and spiked out like a mushroom upon his head and he lifted one hand up to his face, fixing a set of moon shaped glasses with a gentle push. He placed a heavy set tome upon the table, it’s pages thicker than Jensen’s arms combined, a wealth of magical knowledge hiding away in its bound leathery prison. He sat at the brass chair, it’s metal groaning under his weight like his mere presence was wilting it away into nothingness. Frenzy Ortega, Avatar of Famine, looked to his equals with distrust and boredom in equal measure.

The last to enter was a man dressed in a heavy trailblazer trench coat. the sound of metal clinking against metal filled the air, his boots making a soft jingling noise as the spurs dug into the sand. Upon his back was two medium length swords, a pair of hand axes dangling upside down at his waist. A large spear was draped over his shoulder that he lazily carried in his gloved hands. He flicked the long brown hair from his eyes, smiling politely to the three at the table and waving to a few people in the crowd with pearly white teeth and kind hearted amber eyes. When he reached his chair took off the trench coat revealing a set of knives in various shapes and sizes hanging from his coat, and a bandoleer filled with bullets as he patted his two six shooter revolvers sitting down and kicking his feet up upon the table with a Cheshire cat like grin. Ruqus Razgreiz, the Avatar of War, was ready.

The tension in the room was amazingly unbearable, Jensen felt the weight of such god like aspects of his beliefs bearing down upon him as he looked to the avatars with awe. They were each imposing, each holding an aura so sickly and awe inspiring that he felt as if he should weep upon getting this rare opportunity to see them. He felt Xavier’s hand rest upon his shoulder, the older knight looking towards the table with deep respect and praise. The air was silent, not even the wind blowing in challenge to these four aspects of the end times.

At last Frenzy broke the stillness, his eyes darting around as he observed the gathering. “Roll your tongues up and stick them back into your mouths, you sniveling dogs. There is war to be discussed. Are you knights, or bar wenches?” In a flash the room was in movement, preparing themselves for the council as they opened their folders and began made ready to listen to the will of the horsemen.

“This battle we are embarking on is a show of force that the Knights of Apocalypse are never to be trifled with. We will march upon their stronghold and break down their gates and destroy all they know. It will be bloody, each yard gained only be the screams of deaths. We will do this, for we have no other course for nay-sayers of the end times.” Frenzy spoke evenly as parted his fingers and flexed them, bringing them together.

“Jeeze, Ortega,” Razgriez said loudly. “You’re making it sound like this is some epic final battle for the fate of the world.” he chuckled as he kicked his feet off the table. “War is to be taken seriously, but it’s just the order of Saint Barf. Come on, like we really need to go through the dramatic speeches and grand poise of our stations. Half these people already crapped their pants just seeing us, and the other half let their load go when they glanced at Melinda.” Their was a muffled laughter that filled the air as Jensen and Xavier passed warming grins.

“Keep me out of your fun, Razgriez,” Melinda warned the Avatar of War with a deadly look. It wasn’t very common knowledge, but the woman hated attention. It didn’t help she looked very desirable and her station made her the most wanted woman in all of the order. To this Razgriez merely shrugged to her.

“Well in parting let me say you should smile more. After this meeting is done a lot of boys are going to go to their tents and whack one off, so let them enjoy you smiling for them.” Melinda spit the water out of her mouth as Razgriez laughed wildly, the entire tent nervously laughing.

Jensen and Xavier slapped each other on the back as they doubled over, enjoying to great lengths the cavalier attitude of the Avatar of War. Jensen couldn’t believe this man was so at ease in this environment. He took his seat again as he glanced to the other avatars.

“This is no grand battle, gentlemen and lady. This is simply put, going to be a slaughter.” Razgriez’s tone turned more serious, and the surrounding knights took that as their cue to listen, and listen well.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

A wave of sand washed over Jensen and his unit, the third explosive blast of magic nearly claiming their lives. When the dust settled he moved them, pushing them towards a small trench that was dug out by a fireball not more than thirty seconds earlier. Jensen looked over the battlefield, seeing his fellow warriors fighting for each inch of ground, the resistance of Saint Bartholomew far more imposing than they first imagined.

Apparently the enemies of the Apocalypse didn’t get the memo that they were to be slaughtered.

Jensen dove into the trench, sand dripping into the hole in the ground as he peered over the edges looking at what was coming towards them. Saint Bartholomew was known for their deadly Sword Magi, monks and wizards who could conjure up swords to strike from any angle. Some had risen to aspire to titles of Sword Brethren, masters with little peers in the blade that capable of crippling an enemy by blasting their veins out with a sonic blast. They had many allies as well, other orders banding together to wipe the legions of the Ragnarok off the face of Althanas.

“Seven Sword Magi, sir,” one of his soldiers called to him. “Eastern approach.” Jensen chewed his lower lip as he brought up his punch knife and tapped the steel with his other hand. Full blown war was far different from little skirmishes he had done in the past. The simple matter was Jensen was getting scared.

Another explosion sent one of his warriors to the dirt, his body turning rigid as a wave of enemies came over the dune screaming for death. Jensen pointed to them and ordered a charge, all the knights getting up as one and surging forwards. He dipped down low, blocking an over head strike and lifting upwards tossing the warrior over his back as he spun around, letting his punch knife cut the arm of another as he darted forwards and stabbed a man in the back that was overpowering one his younger soldiers.

Five knights ran forward, spearing the enemy on their lances as they moved forwards and took out several of the foes giving Jensen a respite of breath. He did a quick head count and noticed two of his number didn’t rise from the ground or move. He shook his head, knowing he already lost four of his number already in this battle.

“Lord Sigma wishes you to rally to him, come with us.” a knight ordered. Jensen nodded and gave out battle sign to his squad to move out. They obeyed as they all ran along the dunes in a pathetic trot, killing the foe and aiding as they did so.

The seven Sword Magi were upon them in a moment, catching up to the retreating knights and Jensen ordered his younger pupils to move on without him as he stood shoulder to shoulder with the other five knights. The first mage did a strange twirl, golden blades as large as a bastard sword lifted into the air above him. Jensen gripped his punch knife tightly as he muttered a prayer upon his lips to the horsemen. He noticed his fellow warriors were doing the same as they charged forward.

Two knight’s came over the dune, flanking the enemy as they cast powerful elemental spells as the Sword Magi. The order of Bartholomew lost one of their number in the explosion, casting retaliatory spells in a duel of magic. One knight cast offensive spells, the other knight cast defensive spells as they did their best to ward off the worst of the enemy magic.

A storm of blades fell upon them, and they couldn’t hold on for much longer as the defense shields shattered and tumbled to the ground. Jensen was upon one of the Sword Magi, twirling his punch knife around as he screamed violently like a bear taking whatever he could with him. The Sword Magi split their attentions, thus giving up their superiority in numbers and swiftly they began to get cut down.

When the fight settled twelve seconds later Jensen stood with one golden blade in his shoulder, heaving in pain as two other soldiers slowly stood up from the ground. The spell casters were both dead, but the Sword Magi were dead. They all gathered up and ran towards their rendezvous location.

Over the hill they found Xavier fighting with the largest thicket of knights. They cast spells, they put up defensive shields, they screamed and fought like legends of old as they created a suitable defense to the order of Saint Bartholomew. Jensen met up with his soldiers under his care, seeing the weariness in their eyes and the fear of this battle taking root. He gripped the most startled one by the shoulder and held him tightly, looking to the others.

“Fear will get you killed, remember your prayers to the horsemen and recite them to clear your minds.” Jensen ordered. Immediately several of his troops did just that. He turned towards Xavier, seeing he was weary as well as he ran towards Jensen.

“By the horsemen, there has to be over ten thousand of these guys!” He spat, breathing heavily. “Intelligence said we would have the superiority in numbers.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired, Xavier,”

“Hey, I’m older you twit.”

“In looks,” Jensen added off handedly as the two smiled looking over the field. The warriors of the Apocalypse were outnumbered, but they weren’t out trained as they fought for every inch of ground with experience they learned in their halls of birth. The numerical superiority of Saint Bartholomew was merely holding them back from instant annihilation instead of this prolonged trickling demise.

The order of Saint Bartholomew wasn’t without its own tricks, however. Sensing that the Knights of Apocalypse were gaining the upper hand they released their deadliest weapons and the sky filled with an unearthly howl as the chitneous sound of pincers clipped in the air. Large clouds of dirt filed the airs as mighty behemoths exploded forth from the ground as one like something triggered their long sleep.

Jensen and Xavier ran towards the edge of the dune, looking down into the valley where the heaviest fighting was taking place. In the middle of the fight were four large holes, their size equal to that of a large inn of Salvar. Only a few yards away were giant desert scorpions, colossal in size, easily the match for the girth of a mighty castle gate. They snapped their pincers along the desert, scooping up friends and foes alike as they killed dozens in their wake. When one used their stinger it made a large explosion in the sand as it created a wave of dust that washed over the land.

The Desert Scorpions of Fallien had joined the battle, and it seemed they favored the order of Bartholomew.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen’s mouth was held open in awe, as was Xavier’s. That wasn’t how it worked. Saint Bartholomew was supposed to die, not fight back with titans of war. Yet as impact as they were it had to make little difference, Xavier slapping Jensen on the back as he turned to the warrior’s behind him.

“WE MARCH INTO THE MOUTH OF THE LION, CHARGE AND KILL THE BIG ONES! GLORY TO THE HORSEMEN!” The echoes of consent filled the air as they surged forward as one, cleaning up the few remaining pockets of resistance as they ran over the hill, fearless of what was coming. Jensen felt his heart pound in his stomach as his blood boiled, unsure what his little punch knife would do, but excited to be part of history. This would be talked about for years on end.

When he reached the first scorpion he felt the ground surge, but instead of another violent desert creature coming forth it was instead black sickly tentacles. He followed the trail of them as they wrapped around the titan and pulled it down like the mighty krakens of old. It ripped at the scorpion, easily tearing its segmented body apart as its stinger lashed out trying to pierce the ethereal chords. At the forefront of this assault stood Frenzy Ortega, reading aloud from his tome and floating as hellfire enhanced his vision. What stood under him was a pile of enemy soldier’s, their faces sunken in like they had been starved to death.

Another creature screeched in the din of the battle, a scorpion squaring off with the Avatar of Death and losing as he yanked his Scythe out of it’s brains like he would harvest wheat. The blade dripped of blood as he turned slightly and cut horizontally in a wide arc, clipping off the barbed tail of the scorpion as it tried to kill him in its death throws. When he turned towards a group of charging Sword Brethren he merely lifted his hand out, a black miasma washing over them and himself hiding their fates from the world.

Xavier pointed towards the Scorpion in the middle, and both men ran towards it with haste. Off to the left he saw the forth scorpion scuttling back and forth as Melinda stood perfectly still, her eyes matching its movements. When it made a move on her, stinger lancing forward like a spear from the heavens she still didn’t flinch, instead lifting her hand with the bracelet up. The bracelet glowed with a bright flash of light, and a stunning circular titanium shield was before her tiny frame.

The beast’s appendage broke in the attack, and it scuttled away as she morphed the shield into a lance and stabbed forward, hitting it in the segment where the arms met the body taking off one of it’s massive arms with ease. She twirled the lance in her hand, returning it to a bracelet as her hands glowed a sickly teal color. She muttered something, but Jensen couldn’t make it out over the cries of battle. When she was done the teal ball hit the beast and it screamed a death cry as it turned upon it’s back, legs lifting in the air.

Jensen and Xavier reached the final scorpion, it’s talons piercing the ground like giant spit stakes. Its body thrashed around, as if sensing three of its brothers had already died. With a mighty swipe several knights were shunted to the side, save one who laughed into the air with glee. Jensne watched as Razgriez twirled in the air, picking up a harpoon from his belt and tossing it, a small wire of rope attached to it. The weapon impaled the beast’s torso and he pulled tight as his aerial launch ended abruptly. He free fell to the ground and pulled on his weapon, climbing the rope as he landed on the ground with a roll and a few jumps to get his bearings.

As he towards the beast he jumped again, climbing up the side of the behemoth while the other knights kept it at bay. When he stood upon the beast he pulled out his revolvers and began to fire point blank into it’s face, laughing wildly as he did. The beast thrashed about as blood and guts filled the air. He put the weapons back in his holster, pulling out the two swords strapped to his back and digging each into the beasts hide. He then pulled out a small red stick strapped around each other as he planted it upon the swords turning and leaping off his mount standing next to Jensen.

“This is the fun part!” He cried out to the immortal, nudging him with his elbow as he showed Jensen the thin wire he had attached to his swords. It was impossibly thin, and the man laughed as he pulled out a lighter and lit the fuse. Jensen watched dumbstruck as the light traveled along the wire, until it hit the red stick and then what happened next was a blur.

The beast exploded, it’s head no more than a hole as it’s appendages let out a spasm, body shivering before toppling over. Jensen was amazed at the Avatars, amazed that they so causally took out these desert beasts with no aid at all. But in his awe he didn’t notice Xavier’s cries as the scorpions carcass fell upon the young immortal, turning his world black.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Kyla’s mouth gaped in awe of the story, feeling a bit of fatigue as she stretched out her legs again looking to Stephanie as she continued to run her fingers along the scalp of her immortal companion. “So what happened then?” Kyla asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. Stephanie gave her a warming grin as she shrugged.

“I don’t know, I guess the avatars mopped the floor with the order of Saint Bartholomew. Jensen was busy being dead at the time.” They both giggled as he shifted in his sleep, looking out towards Kyla with closed eyes and a bit of drool coming out his lips. “It wasn’t the slaughter they were expecting, I know that. About three thousand in casualties at the end of battle. Later in life Jensen had learned the warriors gathered were nothing more than meat shields to soak up the damage of the enemy could offer while the Avatars picked them apart.”

Kyla wrinkled her nose in disgust, knowing Sei would never stoop to tactics that disregarded human life. Stephanie merely shrugged in response as if this was a natural turn of course in life. Instead of arguing different view points, the knight merely leaned her head back. There was a silence in the air, both in deep thought before Kyla looked to her with expectant eyes.

“So then, when did he start being a crazed fighter? Why did he start being this horrible person I keep hearing about?” The questions flowed out her mouth and Stephanie had to raise a hand to silence her. She still smiled warmly, looking down upon Jensen’s face as his brow began to wrinkle in agitation. His fingers slowly began to clench tightly and she sighed loudly.

“Jensen’s laughs are merely an emulation of Razgriez.” Stephanie explained. “He respected the Avatar of War so much that he began to emulate him. Jensen was eventually allowed to see Razgriez in private, and the talk he said he had with the man was a night he wouldn’t soon forget. Razgriez had talked to him about why he laughed, and it made sense to Jensen. Something about being a god of war meant that he could either be serene and somber about it like the other avatars or he could enjoy and relish in the business he owned. War was his territory, so why not enjoy it. Something to that extent, it never really made sense to me.”

“But don’t you laugh as well?” Kyla countered.

“I do,” she admitted biting her lower lip. “It’s meant to unnerve the opponent, no different from a battle scream or somebody saying a mantra in the heat of a fight.” Kyla nodded in understanding. “Jensen laughs because he emulates his hero, but eventually that laugh died and turned into the maddening howl you hear today.”

“Why is that?” Kyla asked, pushing the envelope to learn all about her latest crush. His life was a mystery that was slowly enshrouding before her eyes, and she wanted to learn it all.

“His heroes died to him. The avatars, all dead now mind you, performed an act that made him see life differently. It’s because of the people he respected turning their back on him that changed Jensen into the person he is today.” Kyla was on the edge of her seat, her eyes peering forward with interest. Stephanie met that gaze, her eyes flittering around as she sighed again.

“Please,” Kyla begged. “I want to hear the story.”

“This isn’t some bedtime fairy tail,” Stephanie snapped to her, but Kyla merely shook her head. Stephanie took in a deep breath and looked upon Jensen. “This is the last tail I will tell you, and then you have to go.”

“I promise!” Kyla said lifting her hands up to show she was serious. Stephanie nodded to her and looked down upon Jensen, his eyes tightening as he began to shift around a bit more violently.

“The last thing before I begin is something you need to understand,” Stephanie looked up to Kyla with a mournful smile, and the girl looked back quizzically. “I only heard this story through Jensen’s sleep, and he was crying like a baby when he muttered it.”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The immortal walked along the snowy patches towards Death’s Cradle, his feet buried to his knees in snow as he shook violently. He passed by the snow filled trees, seeing the coming night and the storm that would be coming to claim the senior knight shortly. He pulled his winter gear tighter, feeling the warmth of his own modified coat on the inside of the heavier gear.

He was alone, a solitary survivor of a mission gone horribly wrong. He was assigned with two other knights to take care of some warlord in the Corone region near the province of Savion. When they arrived they had snuck into the camp, gutting people in their sleep as they prepared to make the final coup de grace. The barbarian leader was sleeping and they moved into his tent.

What they found were several warriors awake and waiting, and the fight lasted four minutes with everyone in his unit dead. He was stabbed in the left lung and left to die, but he survived by the blessings of the horsemen. In turn he waited in the morning, watching the camp. He didn’t know the people they murdered in their sleep were prisoners from a local camp, and thus their blood was on the immortal’s hands.

Taking his throwing glaive he tossed the weapon with all his might, falling out of the tree that he rested in and killed the warlord, but in return he felt his face fall flat on the dirt below. Yet miraculously he survived, and he carried his fragile body home to report the mission. He was successful, but the cost was higher than it should have been.

Now standing in the frozen lands of Berevar, teeth chattering, Jensen pondered his next move. He couldn’t make it through the night. He had to find a place to stay and rest until morning. The idea chaffed his mind, feeling a sick de’ja vu feeling as he rounded over a hill and looked down upon a rocky formation. He sighed as he moved towards it, feeling ironic that this place, a place that held such ill memories would once again be his shelter for the night.

Jensen dumped his satchel on the ground, dragging in the dead twigs he had found nearby and creating a small circle using loose rocks around him. He pulled out his lighter, snapping it into life as he attempted to find someway to light the sticks. It took forever, but he at last got a small fire going. He sighed in relief, turned and put the lighter back on, and when he pulled out his dinner he felt a large draft wave in, freezing his very bones. He shoved the food back into his pack, knowing the fire had been blown out. Instead he pulled out his sleeping blanket, wrapped it tightly around him, and squeezed so he was parallel with the rocky wall and closed his eyes to sleep.

“Got any stories, Chanelle?” Jensen spoke loudly, knowing he would get no reply. “I want to hear about the desert scorpions of your native land again. I don’t think they are quiet as big as you told me they were.” he let the silence fill the air for a brief moment. “I do know that for a matter of fact! One squished me!” again he paused. “It’s true!” he sassed.

He talked into the night, talked to his dead companions as the cold bore into his skin. Softly with each passing hour Jensen’s tone grew fainter and fainter, his eyes unable to stay open as his teeth chattered uncontrollably. Still he talked.

“N-N-No, Denzel,” Jensen whispered. “I didn’t get any autographs for you…I was busy being squished, remember?” he paused for a laugh, and then he laughed, laughed wildly as if he had been told a hilarious joke and the boy rolled to his back, facing the wall.

“Yeah, Miguel, I guess that’s what I get for keeping my big mouth open.” His tone faltered, and before long Jensen felt very light, no feeling in his body at all as everything inside his head softly shut down. First it was his speech, then it was his thoughts. He just stared blankly out into the world, breathing. Soon he stopped breathing, his chest no longer rising up, before his eyes blurred the surrounding snow until all he saw was white.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen’s eyes fluttered open, his mind unable to comprehend anything as he slowly regained control of his body. He felt numb still, but as he fought to awaken himself his nerves began to tingle like tiny pink pricks as he groaned softly. His breathing returned to normal and soon his vision softly blurred into focus, like a window defrosting slowly. Before long he had his first cognitive thought about how cold he was, fingers moving ever so slowly to start rubbing his chest.

He was still outside and still freezing, but he made it to the morning and lived. He felt mixed emotions from this, a part of him wanting to die so he could be with his friends, but the blessing of the horsemen had prevented that course, and he sighed loudly as he drew himself up to his feet. When he was sitting up he heard a noise behind him, and realizing the danger he was in he gently reached for his throwing knives.

“You’d never reach them in time before I’d kill you,” A deep voice spoke out. He recognized that voice, and his mind slowly began to process who it was before he turned. “It seems the blessed immortal has cheated death yet again. How strange…” This was not directed at Jensen, but instead to a colleague. Jensen froze as he pondered what to do, but he couldn’t’ figure out it was that talked to him.

“The winds, they should have frozen him over three times in the night,” a raspy voice spoke, as if the grating sound came from the lips of death himself. “Are you sure you left no possibility for survival?”

Jensen began to panic, not knowing what these guys were talking about, and realizing he still had his back to them. He quickly turned to see the Avatars of Death and Famine glaring down upon him like he were an insect.

“My lords,” Jensen said, flabbergasted as he bowed low to them, feeling their warmth just being near them. Up close the avatars looked like radiant humans of perfect being, their facial features flawless and perfect and divinely beautiful all at once. He could feel the magic radiating from both of them, but also another feeling he wasn’t sure of. It felt like agitation, tension to the young knight, but he dismissed it immediately.

“Explain how you survived this night, Jensen Ambrose.” The raspy voice spoke from the Avatar of Death, each word choking the life out of the air as it grated against the nerves of the immortal’s mind.

“I..I wrapped myself up tightly and placed the blanket around me, I have nothing else to add, my lords.” Jensen felt follish for giving such a stupidly simple answer, but at the same time he didn’t know what they wanted from him. He just followed standard procedure, what the hell were they trying to find out? “If it pleases you my lords, I have the status on the Savion Warlo-”

“I care not for the antics of the council,” Frenzy said irritably as he interrupted Jensen’s words. “Get up and follow us. You are under arrest.”

“Arrest?” Jensen said confusedly, his eyes widening in shock. “For what? What crime did I commit?” he looked to them with wide eyes of wonder, his confusion clear upon his face. They both bore down on him with their eyes, but the immortal felt a trickle of his spine still left. “Is it because I am alive?” he whispered in astonishment. “Because I lived?”

Frenzy’s frame was that of an average warrior, not overly muscled, but not out of shape either. Looking only what was above his robes was like a classic library book worm and his constant need to adjust his glasses had always perpetuated that he was the weakest in terms of raw strength of the four members of the Avatars.

Jensen had learned this was a sorely, sorely gross misinterpretation of the power Frenzy had.

With one hand he reached out, picking up the immortal by his collar and lifting him up over his head like he was a kitten. He glared at the knight behind his glasses, the sunlight reflecting them off his sheen as it sparkled the corner of his angry eyes. Corvus merely turned and walked down the path as Frenzy still held him, seething in hate as he looked to Jensen debating wheter to kill him now, or later. Just being in his grip humbled Jensen as he whimpered in fear, not wishing to tempt the wrath of the Avatar of Famine further.

“I am sorry, I was out of line, I was-” Frenzy merely tossed his frame aside like he were a doll, Jensen bouncing in the snow and rolling against the heavy drift with grunts of pain. When he landed he looked up to see Corvus giving him a glancing pass like one would to a zoo animal.

Confused as to what he should do, Jensen merely gathered his belongings, walking hind the avatars like an inmate on death row, a thousand questions dancing through his mind, hiding the answers in their performance.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Agony was a word Jensen described as a feeling as losing something very dear to you. Having it ripped out of your heart by sharp hooks and pulled with the care of a butcher on his last day of work. No feeling in the world could match that as losing that precious thought, ideal, or person. He stuck to that belief as he walked into the chambers of Death, the private sanctum of Corvus. He knew by the end of it he would have a new definition for agony, but he wasn’t sure how it would take shape.

Everything that happened when he entered came suddenly and quickly. Frenzy grabbed Jensen by the back of his head and tossed him onto a table as Corvus silently chained him to the steel device. They talked to each other about what to do first, arguing over what methods of surgery they should employ.

Frenzy had argued that Jensen was alive, and they should open him up as if he were so, but Corvus countered that he should be a corpse, so they should cut him open like he were a corpse. Jensen looked to them both, eyes filled with terror as he shook his head. This argument eventually ended with them deciding they would first cut Jensen open, then operate on him as if he was alive. They lowered the knife to his throat, he screamed, and the world went black.

He awoke and screamed.

The avatars looked over him and made notes, Frenzy speaking to Corvus as if Jensen’s cries were an annoying neighbors dog that didn’t shut up. Corvus watched Jensen with his coal black eyes, feeling a wave of dread come from the avatar as the immortal squirmed. He took his knife and patted it against his chest, a soft squishy sound filling the air. Frenzy merely placed his hand inside, and Jensen felt his lungs softly wither away in seconds. He breathed heavily, then he didn’t breath at all. Light faded away in his eyes until he rolled his head to the side, passing out.

He awoke with a start.

He felt his lungs fill with air again and Frenzy stood up from a reclining chair, Corvus pushing his chair out from his desk as they both moved over to him with curious faces. They began to talk again, pointing to his chest again and Corvus muttered the words accelerated regeneration. Frenzy nodded, placing a thinking finger upon his chin as he pondered loudly what would happen should they remove the veins around the heart.

“What are you doing to me?” Jensen said woozily. “What is going on?” he asked again, his voice barely audible to even his own ears. Frenzy looked to Jensen with irritation, but Corvus merely lifted a scalpel up to his throat and cut. Liquid dripped down the side of his neck and Jensen screamed loudly before he choked upon something, and looking up with weary eyes he saw Corvus simply toss his voice box aside like it were a toy. His eyes widened in horror, but the blood loss proved far to much and he felt himself fading.

“Let’s go ahead and cut the veins around his heart as well,” Frenzy said as he lifted a knife to Jensen’s chest. The immortal screamed, his mouth contorting in torment and pain, but no sound coming out as he cried bloodied tears, his fingers curling. The blood in his body felt like fire had caught inside his veins, and before long he shuddered once and wheezed pathetically before he stopped moving, his eyes never closing.

Jensen’s vision returned, blinking multiple times.

He wheezed fresh breath into his lungs, feeling a pain within his chest, but blood moving around its intended course. Frenzy and Corvus stood at his head, and they poked his scalp with their fingers, painfully they moved and jerked his head as they talked about where to cut and drill. Learning from the last time he didn’t bother talking, but he felt a painful sensation in his throat and wanted to drink water desperately. As his thoughts tried to formulate he felt a blade neatly cut into the top of his head, peeling the skin off the top of his skull. He hollered, his voice straining as if he had used it for the first time in years.

When they finished they tossed his scalp upon his chest, his hair floating in the air like leaves caught in the wind. He cried and curled his fingers, kicking his feet to try and escape this unending torment. Frenzy took his fist and backhanded the immortal, silencing his whining as he moved to grab something. He watched Corvus lift up a rather sharp looking blade, muttering about how effective it should be at cutting bone.

“Please, stop,” Jensen cried, sniveling like a baby as he whimpered.

“I thought you cut out his vocal chords,” Frenzy said irritably. Corvus shrugged.

“It seems they came back. I thought you cut his veins around his heart.” he replied mockingly. Frenzy picked up his scalp and threw it away into a corner of the room, looking into Jensen’s chest.

“So it seems they grew back. Curious…” Frenzy made notes in his tome as he motioned for Corvus to continue his works. The Avatar of Death merely dropped the weapon to the immortal’s skull.

“Please…I beg you…” Jensen whimpered. He cried out large tears, unable to hold back his terror of the situation unfolding.

“Frenzy, cut his tongue out. I don’t want distractions.” Corvus rasped angrily as he lifted the knife. The Avatar of Famine nodded once placing his book upon the table as Jensen shook his head to avoid the avatar. Frenzy gripped his jaw tightly, pressing his lips open as he used his other hand and grabbed hold of the muscle and pulling viciously.

Jensen let out a wailing cry of pain, seeing the bloodied appendage in the avatars hand as he closed his eyes tightly, willing the nightmare to end. Blood bubbled up in his throat and he felt sick to his stomach as he cried.

“Much better, Master Frenzy.” Corvus said lowering the knife again. There was a searing pain within Jensen’s mind, his brain feeling naked and exposed, and then he blacked out, his whimpering dying off as Corvus played around in his head.

~*~*~

This had continued for three days nonstop. The only respite Jensen received from their studies was his own death, but he never truly understood what was going on. He instead began to find things to occupy his mind, something to get over this terrible ordeal. Anything at all, he counted sheep, counted the number of teeth Frenzy had, he counted the boards of wood that made the ceiling to the chamber.

He whimpered and cried, willing himself to stay silent, but each time he made so much as a peep Frenzy would find a way to silence him. He couldn’t take the pain, falling unconscious multiple times only to awaken and scream. He glared at them, and they cut his eyes out. He spat their names and cursed them, so they cut out his tongue. He shook his head as they spoke, and they cut off his ears. He flipped them off, they cut off his hands. They punished him as they studied, eventually reaching one last forgone conclusion.

Jensen awoke on the fourth day, body intact and unchained. He felt his body, felt his ears and lips slammed his tongue into the roof of his mouth and let out a laugh as he realized he was alive and well. He turned to see Corvus and Frenzy standing before him, a smile of the Avatar of Famine’s face. Corvus instead held a hood over his features, an impossibly black veil that couldn’t be penetrated.

“Well, about time you woke up,” Frenzy said turning from the boy. “Dream well?”

Jensen was not sure what he meant, but his mind softly began to rationalize that his events were nightmares, tests from the horsemen. What else could explain his heroes torturing him and experimenting upon his flesh? Jensen smiled to them both, feeling like he was a part of something wonderful, like he had passed a trial and was now a part of some secret brotherhood.

“I guess I slept well enough,” Jensen spoke, feeling weight in his limbs as he wiggled his toes. He never understood why, but that feeling felt wonderful to him at that moment. He jumped off the slab and looked his avatars in the eyes.

“Good, this last test needs your body one hundred percent.” Frenzy said as he motioned Corvus to attack. Before the immortal knew what was coming the Scythe of Death, the Grim Reaper, had swung out and was pulled back with a mighty tug. Jensen could only feel a quick sharp pain in his neck, and then his world exploded in a new definition of agony.

His body crumbled to the floor, and Frenzy handed a wine glass to Corvus who took it, both cheering the other as they drank over his dead body.

~*~*~

Jensen’s eyes widened to a new world, and he shifted upwards looking upon the two avatars. They were talking like brothers who had never seen each other in years, and when the immortal stood up they both cast him a bored expression.

“If it isn’t the Blessed Immortal,” Frenzy sighed. Both men stood up as Corvus led the way to the door. “You are free to go, Jensen Ambrose. Fight on in the horsemen’s name.”

“What…What happened to me? I thought I was just decapitated.” Frenzy shrugged indifferently as he walked out the door, Corvus in tow as he walked with him leaving the wooden portal open. Jensen watched them walk and he felt something begin to bubble up within his chest.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?” Jensen screamed, chasing after them. They ignored him as they walked, and Jensen felt a pit open up in his stomach. “ANSWER ME! GIVE ME AN ANSWER, PLEASE!” Jensen begged as he chased them, but he tripped and fell his coordination far from perfect. It was a byproduct of his death, but he didn’t know it at the time.

“PLEASE!” Jensen cried. “PLEASE, ANSWER ME!” And they turned a corner, leaving him all alone. The feeling in his stomach churned and he collapsed, gasping out for air as he wretched violently, puking up bile as he screamed out in confusion.

“What the hell am I?” Jensen asked, looking to his hands like they had betrayed him. “What am I?” He shouted again into the air, birds taking flight as he pounded the ground with his fists. He felt so many conflicting emotions and he didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t felt this lost since the death of his friends and he was lonely and scared.

His heroes, they walked away. His friends, they had died. His family, he had no family. He was alone in the world and felt a void grip his mind as a depressive funk took control of his actions as he violently shook, unable to control his emotions. The world spun around him and he saw flashes of the deaths he had in life, realizing at that moment he wasn’t blessed at all, but rather cursed. His divine gods had cursed him with immortality, not gift him with it.

With nothing left in his heart he felt his stomach rumble, and the blood in his veins pound. Kneeling in the courtyard to Death’s tower Jensen looked up to the heavens. Then, uncontrollably he began to laugh, wildly and maddening as he cried out in mirth, howling insanely to his horsemen that abandoned them.

Jensen Ambrose laughed until he fell to the ground, unable to support himself as he passed out.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Kyla looked to Jensen, her own eyes tearing up as Stephanie softly moved his head off her lap and onto the pillow. There was a stunned silence, the events taking place so unbelievable that described what degenerated Jensen into the roaming asshole he was today. Kyla stood up, looking to him and stretching an arm out to touch him, but Stephanie intercepted it, guiding her towards the door.

“Jensen was never the same. It wasn’t easy for him to lose his friends, but to lose his heroes as well became murder on his brain. And it wasn’t a false hero feeling, it was instead watching themselves vilify before his eyes. I am proud to say that the avatars are all dead, thanks to the avatar slayer.”

“What?” Kyla asked, confused by the term. Stephanie grunted as she leaned against the wall next to the door. “Who is that?”

“The slayer of the avatars is a man who killed all the avatars. It’s a long story and I am kicking you out,” she turned back to Jensen and her gaze softened up. Kyla felt something was fishy and she pointed to the sleeping immortal.

“What’s happening to him?” She watched as Jensen began to toss and turn in his sleep. Stephanie sighed as she put a hand on her head, shaking it gently before she looked to Kyla out of the side of her eyes.

“Once a year like clockwork, Jensen sleeps in the night, each memory in his mind opened up. It starts off with all the good ones, but then it eventually turns to the bad ones. He described it to me once. It was a dream where he experienced every death over and over until he reached the room where he was tortured, and then the dreams change. What it changes to he hasn’t told a single soul.”

“How awful,” Kyla whispered looking to him. Stephanie nodded.

“You have to go now, because when he reaches that part of his dream something else happens, and sadly this isn’t for your eyes or ears.” Kyla looked to Jensen longingly, but nodded to Stephanie as she walked out of the room.

“I promise not to tell anyone.” Kyla swore. Then she turned and walked towards her room. From the other side of the hall a sleepy Adolph stumbled forward, dressed in full plate with sword held lazily to his side.

“Am I late?” he mumbled. Stephanie shook her head as she thanked him with a gentle pat on his chest. He held her hand softly, letting her know he was just outside the door as she smiled closing the wooden frame. Adolph stood with his weapon before him like a statue, his eyes scanning the horizon for intruders.

Inside Stephanie stripped down and got into her night gown, a simple large shirt the went down barely past her waist. Once she was dressed she tied her hair back into a ponytail, letting it dangle to the small of her back. She got back into the bed with Jensen, cradling his head in her lap as she gently stroked her hair.

“I’m always here for you,” she whispered to him, gently kissing his forehead. She took her hand and gripped his in it, feeling his sweat wipe off into her palms.

Outside the room Adolph glanced out into the hallway, looking to see Sei walk and stop, pointing to Adolph. The knight sighed gently as he relaxed his posture.

“I am sorry my lord, but tonight is official knight’s business. I cannot allow you inside. Should you interfere you will be violating our contract and thus I must act in kind.” He gave out a cry of mirth. “Not that I could stop you if I tried, but I hope you’ll just respect our wishes.” Sei nodded once, and was off as Adolph continued to look out over the land.

“Going to be a long night,” he muttered.

Back inside the room Stephanie looked down upon Jensen’s face, her face full of mourning as he shifted wildly in his sleep, tears running down his face. She continued to grip his hand tightly, her fingers losing feeling as he crushed them in his hand. Then it began.

With an ear piercing scream Jensen Ambrose shot straight up, shouting into the night air a terrible wail of anguish and loss, it’s pitch never stopping. It pulsed out of the room, moving out of the scrolls magical enchantment through the cave, echoing down its halls. It never stopped, continuing on forever.

Jensen screamed loudly, Stephanie consoling him as she rubbed his back with her nails, and then it stopped, whatever force keeping him screaming at long last ending. He fell back into Stephanie’s lap, his body heaving as he whimpered, tears streaming down his face as he cried like a baby, sobbing uncontrollably.

“It’s okay,” Stephanie whispered, gently wiping his tears away as she held him tightly in her lap. “Shsshhh, it’s okay,” she continued on, as if Jensen was a newborn babe.

Her pity for the knight manifested as her own tears mixed with his, knowing deep inside that the night had only begun for the Enigmatic Immortal.

[Silence Sei]

Story (25/30)

This thread was the retelling of a story, and you did a great job with that. It flowed from the past to the present with no confusion. Movements were easy to understand and I got clear picture of what was going on. Setting was good in most parts, but you could have gone into a bit more detail in others.

Character (26/30)

Jensen's character was very well portrayed. I don't think there is much you could have done better in that area. The ony deduction I made here was that I would have liked to see a bit more of what Stephanie was thinking. Her actions obviously showed an incredible devotion to Jensen, and I would have liked to see a bit more of what it feels like for her to think of what he's gone through. I didn't take much for this because she's not the main character, but I would have like a bit more.

Mechanics (15/30)

There were a few spelling errors, fragments, and apostrophe issues. Overall the distractions were minimal, but I'd suggest running each post through word more often. Some of your posts were perfect, while others still had errors giving me the impression that your proofreading most of it. Just take the extra time, and your scores will drastically improve.

Wildcard (7/10)

This one pulled at the heart-strings. It was a good read, and my wife actually teared up at a couple parts. It as well written, and did an excellent job of explaining Jensen's personality. Jensen is a very emotional character, if only we could see more of that emotion come out.

Total (73/100)

E I recieves 2470 Exp and 120 GP and a diary for Jensen as well as one for Stephanie so they can write down all thier emotions.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!

Enigmatic Immortal is now level 3!