ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Nopony knew how exactly the conflicts started. Some say that our hero was ashamed by the ways his fellows. Others say it was a much needed swift and cunning act of noble justice. Regardless, they all knew how the battle began. A mighty thunderous roar was heard by everyone in the castle, as they continued praising their vile king. The glorious exclamation echoed through the surrounding forests, shaking off the wintry snow from the oak trees and plywood that surrounded the mighty stronghold.
"I demand you to heed my warnings, and recognize the error of your ways!"
The king stood up from his mock throne, walking upon the backs of his acolytes as they bent over themselves in order to bridge the king's path towards the balcony. Frigid goosebumps crawled through his spine, as he looked upon the sole pony that dared to invade his domain. On the distance stood our hero, coat as white as the pure alabaster snow. His crimson eyes were fixed upon the king, who stood many stories above himself. The king fought back his primal fear with a smirk, trying in vain to belittle the one pony who dared to step forward and confront him about such madness.
"Do not pretend you cannot hear me!" his voice once again boomed, shaking the very structure of the castle, "Exit your tower and face me!"
The king shook a little, but refrained from allowing his real feelings to be seen by his adorers. He turned around and was instantly clad in a heavy armor, forged not from the gold deserved from his hard work, but by the gold foolishly wasted by those who believed him to be a deity.
"Send the slaves!" the king ordered. Soon after his request was made he saw the minions exiting his castle, wearing rags of filthy cloth, as they surrounded our hero. But a smile did not find its way into our hero's muzzle, for he knew that the battle would not be a short one and that the repercussions of his actions would probably bring the attention of the Elder Gods of the realm. Still, he maintained his valiant attitude and stood his ground, waiting for the incoming hordes of expendable ponies that dashed towards him, thirsty for the blood of a righteous one.
"The pawns always go first," out hero silently muttered. His voice lost in the chilling winds that swept across the king's domain.
And so... it began.
The besieged cultists within the castle had exited in panic the moment they understood that our hero's actions were not without need. There were times in which our hero had doubted his own reason. Sure, the anger boiling inside his heart threatened to consume his reason entirely, but our noble and valiant hero was above that; he knew that what he was doing was not for himself, but for the good of all those who opposed mediocrity.
The king had fought relentlessly, evading the swift strikes of our hero very much like the slithering snake that he was. But soon, the king found himself cornered through his own actions. Our hero took no pity to the king as he made his final strike, one to rid the entire kingdom of such mockery. Justice was made quickly, as the tainted blood from the fallen king splattered against our hero's coat. With jagged, burning breaths, our hero retrieved the sword from the carcass before him and holstered it.
Breathing a weary sigh, our hero thought about the consequences of his actions. He knew that many would call him insane. A madpony, even. But our hero knew from the start that his actions would not go unnoticed. The praise that was soon to come was too of little importance to him, for he knew that whoever were to gaze upon the bloodied battlefield would not understand the true meaning behind his actions.
He looked up to the thick blanket of gray clouds that enveloped the entire skies, trying to find some solace. On top of him, the skied magically cleared, basking our hero in the golden, radiant light of victory, as if the Elder Gods themselves were thanking him, smiling their bright grace for his accomplished deed. As much as he wanted though, he could not smile. For he knew that other mock kings would feel threatened, and would try every trick they could to get rid of our hero; even if it meant pledging the Elder Gods for protections.
Our hero smirked at that thought; he knew that the Elder Gods were mostly impartial towards the mortal conflicts. Mostly. With a set mind, our hero marched on, without regret or guilt; knowing that wherever his ivory hooves would take him, they would bring forth the fires of justice along.
"I demand you to heed my warnings, and recognize the error of your ways!"
The king stood up from his mock throne, walking upon the backs of his acolytes as they bent over themselves in order to bridge the king's path towards the balcony. Frigid goosebumps crawled through his spine, as he looked upon the sole pony that dared to invade his domain. On the distance stood our hero, coat as white as the pure alabaster snow. His crimson eyes were fixed upon the king, who stood many stories above himself. The king fought back his primal fear with a smirk, trying in vain to belittle the one pony who dared to step forward and confront him about such madness.
"Do not pretend you cannot hear me!" his voice once again boomed, shaking the very structure of the castle, "Exit your tower and face me!"
The king shook a little, but refrained from allowing his real feelings to be seen by his adorers. He turned around and was instantly clad in a heavy armor, forged not from the gold deserved from his hard work, but by the gold foolishly wasted by those who believed him to be a deity.
"Send the slaves!" the king ordered. Soon after his request was made he saw the minions exiting his castle, wearing rags of filthy cloth, as they surrounded our hero. But a smile did not find its way into our hero's muzzle, for he knew that the battle would not be a short one and that the repercussions of his actions would probably bring the attention of the Elder Gods of the realm. Still, he maintained his valiant attitude and stood his ground, waiting for the incoming hordes of expendable ponies that dashed towards him, thirsty for the blood of a righteous one.
"The pawns always go first," out hero silently muttered. His voice lost in the chilling winds that swept across the king's domain.
And so... it began.
The besieged cultists within the castle had exited in panic the moment they understood that our hero's actions were not without need. There were times in which our hero had doubted his own reason. Sure, the anger boiling inside his heart threatened to consume his reason entirely, but our noble and valiant hero was above that; he knew that what he was doing was not for himself, but for the good of all those who opposed mediocrity.
The king had fought relentlessly, evading the swift strikes of our hero very much like the slithering snake that he was. But soon, the king found himself cornered through his own actions. Our hero took no pity to the king as he made his final strike, one to rid the entire kingdom of such mockery. Justice was made quickly, as the tainted blood from the fallen king splattered against our hero's coat. With jagged, burning breaths, our hero retrieved the sword from the carcass before him and holstered it.
Breathing a weary sigh, our hero thought about the consequences of his actions. He knew that many would call him insane. A madpony, even. But our hero knew from the start that his actions would not go unnoticed. The praise that was soon to come was too of little importance to him, for he knew that whoever were to gaze upon the bloodied battlefield would not understand the true meaning behind his actions.
He looked up to the thick blanket of gray clouds that enveloped the entire skies, trying to find some solace. On top of him, the skied magically cleared, basking our hero in the golden, radiant light of victory, as if the Elder Gods themselves were thanking him, smiling their bright grace for his accomplished deed. As much as he wanted though, he could not smile. For he knew that other mock kings would feel threatened, and would try every trick they could to get rid of our hero; even if it meant pledging the Elder Gods for protections.
Our hero smirked at that thought; he knew that the Elder Gods were mostly impartial towards the mortal conflicts. Mostly. With a set mind, our hero marched on, without regret or guilt; knowing that wherever his ivory hooves would take him, they would bring forth the fires of justice along.
Comments1
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Best fic ever. 5/5 would read again.<3~