Thomas Thatcher : The End

[Kent Strider]

Thomas' breath came in ragged gasps, he was stooped over, his right hand placed against a rough pine tree. He could hear the irritating clank of their platemail. An old man shouldn't have to exert himself like this! Sweat dripped from his chin, a patch of white hair on it, matching the long hair on his skinny head. He turned around slowly, facing his pursuers. He grinned and his wrinkled face seemed as if it could crack.

His clenched the staff in his left hand, he knew it was pointless, but he wasn't going down as some little welp would.

"Thomas Thatcher! Your crimes against the kingdom of Britainnia are far too numerous to name and as such you have been sentenced to death," Thomas couldn't see any of their faces, only their eyes. Cowards, all of them. Twenty guards against one old coot, not quite fair odds.

So be it.

He had one last ace up his sleeve, either way he was going to lose. Might as well put on a show before I kick the bucket, he thought. His old elbow popped as he slid it into a pocket, pulling out a scroll that seemed to devour the very light about it, resembling the night sky. With one swift motion, he unraveled it. Deep crimson symbols were drawn upon it. Thomas began to cackle loudly.

"You know we're all going to die, right?!" Thomas screamed it with all his might, before uttering in a deep voice. "Kal An Lor Vas Xen Hur Corp!" The still air instantly turned into violent wind, a black rip appeared in existence itself. The guards gasped. The height of it was unreal, it made a giant seem puny in comparison. It expanded, two gigantic arms shot out of it, the rift burst into an enormous black gate. A daemon emerged from it, unlike anything Thomas had ever seen before. It's wingspan turned day into night, completely blocking the sun's light. When it spoke, Thomas' ears began to bleed, it boomed louder than the mightiest of all thunderstorms.

"For. Your. Soul," It looked upon the guards, mere insects to it. Every last muscle bulged as it swept it's clawed hand above them, never touching them once. They died instantly. Thomas fought to hold in his last meal as he watched blood gush forth from every slit and opening in their metal armor. Brain matter, intestines, even teeth were scattered on the ground, they had squeezed and shot out from the mush that was their bodies. All twenty, dead.

Thomas' legs were weak, he leaned against his staff one last time, before turning to his reaper. It was staring at him. He met it's gaze, released his companion, it hit the ground with a clack. "Take me," he said. He had lived a nice long life, full of excitement. He was ready to go, but still his body and mind raced, trying to cling to the memories of the past, remembering each and every moment of joy, sorrow, anger, boredom, and danger. A single tear crawled towards his chin. His heart stopped, he looked to the sky as his body dropped to the ground.

He died.

[Houston]

"is that the land above? the better life we expect after death?"
Thomas asks himself, in a blank white backround. Free like a sparrow, cleared from thoughts and negativity.

An old hand, bony and filled with scars, suddenly grabs from his robe, back at his shoulder.

"No you wont!" The one behind screams.

Havel shouted out his powerwords of ressourection, towards Thomas when he was in his so called deathroad.

He kept sinking into it, but Havel didn't push him for it.

Havel's eyes raged, when he turned Thomas's face towards himself.

"Not your time to leave, we die together! On the same battlefield!" He screamed, by adding his other hand to drag him out of the deathroad.

Slowly, Thomas slowly noticed the white blankness fading around into colourful trees and flowers, Havel right next to him, holding him with two bare hands.

"I was waiting for that to come and there it was, my Nemesis!"

Havel had a weird look at his face, as he was finished a bloodpursuit with a mystical houndbeast.

"Finally, i got track of it and fought it!" He screams in proud.

"Thomas, i heard the action, thankfully i was around to aid you, my friend" He calms down, since he got a single blow from the beast, trough magic reflection and reactive armor, singlehandedly got him a serious injury, where the greater heal spell didnt work completely.

"Thomas, i won the Nemesis!" He stands up, caughing out blood and meanwhile helps Thomas on his feet.

"You look very poor, Thomas. Let me be generous to you."

Havel, as pesky as always he treats him to a tailor, to a cook and finally drops a few coins for him to buy some reagents, afterwards gather money by his own.

"Thomas, remember what i sayd. We are ment to be a team, together nothing can stop us! And if anything, then we will fall together, on the same battlefield. Like brothers!" He shouts proudly and limbs off slowly, nailed to his staff to stay on his feet, barely walking.

[Kent Strider]

Then as Thomas walked away the life seemed to fade out of his eyes, as he walked his body had began to decay. As his body turned skeletal it fell to the ground. limp and lifeless.

The End