6
The lure of oblivion exerted a heavy pull, tempting you towards oblivion. As you saw the vines twist and piece and invade, your heart began to beat harder. Your muscles twitched. A thought entered your head.
I am not finished yet.
Your mother, your village, the destruction of humanity. You could not abandon them. They needed you.
The vines dig deeper, perhaps sensing your renewed resistance. They tunneled and tore and filled you. They sought to choke the very life out of you. The light dimmed in your eyes.
But you weren’t finished yet.
You roared in defiance, even as the world shook and compressed around you. The vines constructed around your throat. You stretched out and grasped as many vines as you could, then pulled. They created bloody wounds in your body as you tore them out, ripping out other. You flexed the muscles in your neck, and they vines fragmented from the sheer pull. You ripped out the other vines just in time to receive a brutal punch from a giant stone fist.
A stone golem stood before you, wrapped around a tree, it’s leering face lit by a baleful fire. It wound up another punch, which you caught with your hand before you crushed it to powder. Your own punch broke the tree and golem in half.
A golden man, twice as large as you and shining with the presence of the unmistakably divine, gripped your sword and stared you down. The sword glowed with an inner fire, calling to you. You shake your head at the golden figure.
“That’s not yours,” and extend your hand out.
The sword seems to sing and spins out the man’s grip and returns to you. It brightens in your hand, and you feel eagerness pulse from the blade.
You stride to the man, slicing any vines from your path as the world seems to roar at you. He kneels on the ground, holding his stomach, a deep wound bleeding ichor. He gazes at you expressionlessly,
“It would have been so much easier for you to submit.”
You grab the top of his head,
“Fuck you.”
You slam your knee through the mans head, crushing it into a golden mess as the world itself tries to kill you. The great tree trembled in the distance.
And so you fought and killed. The first week Oreus was triumphant whenever he spoke to you, for the god knew that eventually you would have to tire out in this pocket realm of his. But you were renewed after every beast and every plant creature you killed. After that first week of battle he bargained with you, offering you freedom and release. You journeyed ever deeper, each step a war, and your every movement tuned to perfecting the dealing of death.
After 2 months of nonstop slaughter Oreus was resigned to his fate. He had funneled all his power into defeating you, and you had ripped and tore your way through all of them, taking his strength for your own. But you had been yourself changed by this experience. You are now:
A.The Slayer: Red of eye and red of hand. Gods and men both fear you. Your sword and hand bring death to both. Take Oreus’s power and channel it purely into becoming the perfect sword of man. Stride into and out of realms at will. Can inspire your warriors into unstoppable berserkers.
B. The God of War: Seize Oreus’s divinity, and become the God of War(current God of War may become displeased). Gain a flying chariot, knowledge of battles and wars being waged, and ability to inspire troops into Legionaries.
C. The King of Man Combining Oreus’s authority and your leadership. Gain Authority over all mankind. Your words will carry the force of law, bending even the most resistant of man’s hearts into service. You can inspire your armies into champions and paladins. However, your bonus does not include the choices you may make as King.
D. Maybe possibly something else. Needs to be as cool and comparable to these choices. Very unlikely to get approval, but the possibility is there.
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Topic: Brute: SG (Read 34074 times)