After months of training, Damien was given his own golden sword, super effective against demons as the gold burned their skin. It had to be specially altered in Damien’s design as if it touched his skin he would be severely injured. He wielded it with great prowess as he practised upon the dummies in the courtyard. The blade was balanced to perfection, and now he was finally ready.
At the most appropriate time, a new assignment came in, the Cultists were on the path to a relic of unknown power that had been sealed in the temple of Ethereum where the Creator had been destroyed. They sought to use it to open a rift in reality and bring him back from the dead. Damien was ultimately assigned as he was the newest to be trained into the ranks of the Golden. Damien was paired with his now best friend Derkeethus as each pair needed a mage and a swordsman, so who better than someone he knew he could trust? Setting out to Ethereum, the Captain overlooked his troops from his tower.
Upon arriving beneath Ethereum, Derkeethus was already fatigued. Being short and overweight wasn’t the only thing that had made him unfit, as in comparison to the rigorous training Damien had undergone, most training for Derk was magical and un-taxing.
Damien had lain Derkeethus on a miniature cart he’d found along the way, and was pulling him along behind him by his waist rope belt. With still a long hike left to go, Damien woke up Derkeethus to prepare him from the freezing temperatures ahead that guarded the temple of Ethereum. Pulling Derkeethus up behind him, one hand drawn to his sword, whilst the other pulled he and Derkeethus behind him up the cliff face. Derk was sitting cross-legged on the cart with his hands together, in the perfect position for his incantations, which protected against the force of the magical ice storm.
Arriving at the gates of Ethereum, they met with the rest of the troops supplied by the Golden Knights and made their way in, securing the perimeter and guarding the relic. These knights were not of the “Golden” status, which Damien had obtained. They were regular knights, almost no different to your common guard, yet were more akin to soldiers than guardsmen. Despite being just out of training, Damien was the highest-ranking member here, besides Derkeethus, the setup was oddly undermanned for such a priceless artefact.
Damien kept a close eye on both Derkeethus and the relic that was in the centre of the temple.
It was quiet. The temple walls creaked and groaned as the wind battered the windows, every so often an icy chill would crawl through the halls and drive a chill up the troops’ spines. They guarded the door as Derkeethus began to work on removing the relic from its boundaries without cursing himself and everyone else in the entire temple. One single mistake could have the entire group of people here dead, or worse.
Suddenly, slicing, clashing, and the sounds of life escaping from the mouths of deceased souls rang through the temple like a bad dream. Cultists came swarming in through the halls of the temple, gutting everyone in their way and taking no prisoners. The troops were powerless against them as they whittled their way through the sheer number of them, surprise was the best advantage and they took it.
Derkeethus was finished, as soon as he was done making the relic safe to touch, he was grabbed by two of the cultists and almost killed if it weren’t for Damien’s quick actions. Trying to be brave, Derkeethus stood tall as he could and clasped his hands together in an effort to protect his friends. His voice still wavering with fear, he recited psalms as loud as he could to strengthen and heal his comrades. Damien fought off all the attempts to best him, using his weaker hand, as he was strictly forbidden to embrace his powers, as his rage would consume him.
Cultists in the room realised Derkeethus was protecting the soldiers and started targetting him. Due to Derk having to concentrate on his prayers, he had no way to defend himself, so Damien risked his life to defend him. More and more cultists poured in like a swarm of bees, it was too much. Damien grabbed the sword with his demon arm and swung it around with all his force, sending cultists that weren’t even near him flying back into distant pillars. Letting it out for the first time in a long time meant the rage was unbridled and had built up over time, Damien was out for blood. He slaughtered all the cultists in sight, straying away from Derkeethus to follow his bloodlust. He sliced and impaled, decapitated and mutilated every cultist that stood before him, turning the room into a bloodbath.
“DAMIEN!!” Derkeethus screamed, Damien had carved a path through the cultists to the other side of the room and Derkeethus was in trouble.
Damien leaped to Derkeethus’s aid. In a blind rage induced panic, he launched his sword with both hands towards the pair. Derk noticing the glint of gold and steel, managed to push the cultist off himself and dive to the ground, the cultist swinging around just in time to witness the weapon effortlessly glide, straight into their chest. The blade sizzled in reaction to contacting the blood of a demon.
Damien retrieved his sword from the cultist, who barely stood there, in shock. The cultist collapsed, their hood falling back, exposing the face of a woman. She sported tribal tattoos, and had tanned skin. This hinted that she was possibly a refugee from the kingdom’s war that he’d been part of all those years ago. He had no idea that the curse had spread as far as the kingdoms. Nevertheless, she was dead and was no trouble to them now.
The fighting quickly faded, the cultists retreating to their portal, which had opened in one of the prayer rooms within the temple. They’d won, the cultists were retreating, and his best friend was safe. That was until Derkeethus pointed out that they’d managed to steal the relic despite their best efforts.
Returning with bad news, the blame was set upon Derkeethus and mostly Damien. It was Damien’s job to protect Derkeethus and the relic, and he had disobeyed his orders to stay in control. Damien was suspended from the group and will no longer be allowed to go on any expeditions until he learns to control his urges.
>>Cellular Secret
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
jinxlgamez
Doubtful Player 