|Admiral David Farragut|
He attempted to grip tightly on the handle of his blade but an excruciating pain prevented him to do, so he ended up holding it between his fingers. The soles of fur covered boots began to crackle as he stepped on the hot warm gravel. He was walking through a twisted nether, an aura engulfed in a thin purple haze. His thick leather and steel plate armor softly sheathed his numb muscles. He looked up ahead and found a phantasmal specter staring at him with hollow eyes made of black smoke. As he walked closer a hidden remorse in his body began to swell and his pains began to shoot back at his limbs. As he approached the figure a sonorous booming voice slowly echoed around him,
“The closer you are to the spire, the closer you are to victory Argan…”
As soon as the booming voice completed the last vowel of its sentences a strange hand made of light grabbed Argan and surged his body into the outdoors. He appeared with a flash at a rocky plateau, each rock defiled with stains of blood. Up ahead two armored berserkers began to harry each other. A talisman hung around Argan’s neck suddenly began to feel heavy and then tugged on his neck. He grabbed his sword handle and bended his legs in a battle stance and looked around frantically for any attacks headed towards him, his eyes dashed left and right under his horned helmet, the talisman loosened and became lighter in weight. He loosened his grip on the sword. Quick on his feet he dashed to cover behind a large rock. The ground underneath him began to rumble as a mounted warrior charged passed him. He quickly caught a glimpse of a talisman around an armed warrior equipped with a horned helmet, mounted on a strange armored bear-like beast. He seemed to be the leader of the mounted warriors; the same talisman was equipped around his neck, he needed it.
He unsheathed his sword and jumped out of cover, the sword heaved towards the leader, stabbing him in his chest, stopping his charge. The talisman was in the way of his attack and had protected him; it was truly powerful. The stabbing blow brought the leader off his horse; as soon as he hit the ground Argan’s foot rushed for his neck, but he dodged the attack and got up to his feet.. He then intercepted a charge by Argan and held a dagger to his neck.“How I miss killing you, again,” growled the leader.
“Mutual thoughts,” replied Argan with a poisoned covered dagger pointed subtlety to the stomach of the leader, “This time I shall finish you once and for all.”
The leader noticed the matching talisman and with a yelp he was stabbed in the abdomen. Argan turned around and ripped the talisman from the leader’s neck before he hit the ground preventing it from reviving him once again.
The same booming voice echoed “Finally, now temporarily immortal, seek your spire, your rightful throne, take your possession of gain in the Game of Thrones.”Argan took his gaze off the dead body and looked up ahead. A black spire beaconed ahead of him, enveloped in a dark shadowed mountain, he charged for it. As he was running, thoughts rushed through his head of the previous encounters with the leader, the talisman had saved the leader from Argan’s deadly grasp. He was unstoppable now.
Argan was from the blood line of the dragon, their fate was defiled by the specter; Evil himself. Argan charged for the spire on top of the mountain. Guarded by ancient skeletal soldiers, Argan breached the entrance with incomparable skill, the joined talisman granted him pass through the barrier. He entered the spire; his rightful throne was his at last. He sat on his throne and the crowning began, wings made of light extended from the back of the throne and enveloped Argan. Stone plates engraved with bright writing rose from the walls of the spire, the Elder Scrolls read out amongst his eyes. The second scroll read, “The Specter of Eternity shall never be trusted; dwindling on the faith of our bloodline he seeks a goal Evil itself is incapable of deciphering. Our fate decides; The Specter shall grow power when given weakness…”
A sudden flashed blasted through the spire and grabbed Argan and pulled him out of his rightful throne. At eye level the two black smoke eyes stared directly at him, the booming voice echoed “I do not believe in second chances.”