Spoiler :
There was a sensation of falling, wrapped in flames. He could see his hand outstretched, reaching for... who? A friend, an enemy? He couldn't think for the pain, but his body knew the movements his heart would intend. His arm wrapped around the fiery figure and pulled it tight, shielding it from the flames. He could see, but he knew his eyes were melted into nothingness. He turned his face to the heat, looked upon the goddess, and fell into blackness.
Slowly the light came in, his body was in tatters, he should be dead. Around him were hundreds, thousands of others. Not all were burned as he was, but all were lost and confused. He stood on shaking feet and looked out across an ashen waste.
"Terentius?" a voice, female and sweet to his ears. He turned to see her, beautiful in spite of the burns. His mind began to comprehend, she was his wife and he had placed himself between her and pain. First the fires of the goddess, then the ground of... where ever this was.
"Where are we my love?" speaking was like trying to cough up ground glass, he had to be the most injured of anyone he could see but he had to know.
"I heard one of the priestesses talking, she thinks we are in Hell." And with that Terentius's wife fell too her knees and wept.
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How long I have wandered the pit? he thought as he marched. Behind him was a full brigade of the surviving Bannormen, their tattered penants flapping in a breeze he could not feel. He couldn't feel anything anymore, not since he had healed, his scars a thick leather across his whole body separating him from the barren desert about him. Soon Sabathiel would lead them through the gate and back to Erebus, but for now he must lead these men to the rendesvous and hope to keep them alive. So many had died, or been dragged off by demons to fates worse than death, and that was not all. Time flowed in ways that were simply wrong here, he had lived what must be centuries, his wife had died of old age. Some of these men and women were his great-great-grandchildren, yet he felt as fit as he had before the goddess fell. He could sense a wrongness in the trail ahead, something moving beneath the sands.
He rounded toward and column and shouted. "Form battle lines! Prepare to repel ambush!" Instantly ranks were formed and marching cautiously forward. He hoped he would keep them alive long enough to escape hell.
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Age. It catches up with all of us, Terentius Ferius sat astride a great warhorse of the Bannor looking across the Clan's forces forming on the rise. He could no longer wear his armor, couldn't lift a sword, couldn't even wipe himself. When they had emerged from the gate he had been struck blind, eyes gone for an Age finally ceased to see, the confessors had drawn deep on their reserves and given him back his eyes, but no longer could any divine magics aid his broken frame. He would die on this battlefield, or the next, and not from an enemies axe but simple age. It wasn't as if he was afraid of death, but rather he didn't want to go back to hell. He heard the order to advance from Capria and as led his men forward he wept.
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He lay for some time, a Clan spear in his chest, cataract covered eyes searching the sky above for death. He wanted to hold on as long as he could, taste a little more of his home's air before he was once more condemned. A shadow fell over him and a woman in black knelt by him, she smiled at him and once more blackness enveloped him.
He awoke in a forest far from the battlefield, the woman tending his wounds gently. He felt strangely invigorated, like his body had never known the touch of time. She looked up at him and said something he couldn't hear, and he felt his lips give an answer without him ever willing them too.
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There was a sensation of falling, but there was no pain. He flesh was stripped and stretched and cleaned, the adept was like a sculptor working life into clay. Terentius stood at the end and looked into a silvered mirror and beheld the face of his youth, the only change was the balefire shining from his eyes.
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He sat astride a great warhorse looking at the Clan's lines forming on a rise. This time he would not die, never again would he walk the wastes of hell. He was Reborn and he would create a paradise on Erebus. He heard Korrina give the order to advance and as he led his men forward he smiled.
Slowly the light came in, his body was in tatters, he should be dead. Around him were hundreds, thousands of others. Not all were burned as he was, but all were lost and confused. He stood on shaking feet and looked out across an ashen waste.
"Terentius?" a voice, female and sweet to his ears. He turned to see her, beautiful in spite of the burns. His mind began to comprehend, she was his wife and he had placed himself between her and pain. First the fires of the goddess, then the ground of... where ever this was.
"Where are we my love?" speaking was like trying to cough up ground glass, he had to be the most injured of anyone he could see but he had to know.
"I heard one of the priestesses talking, she thinks we are in Hell." And with that Terentius's wife fell too her knees and wept.
-----------------------
How long I have wandered the pit? he thought as he marched. Behind him was a full brigade of the surviving Bannormen, their tattered penants flapping in a breeze he could not feel. He couldn't feel anything anymore, not since he had healed, his scars a thick leather across his whole body separating him from the barren desert about him. Soon Sabathiel would lead them through the gate and back to Erebus, but for now he must lead these men to the rendesvous and hope to keep them alive. So many had died, or been dragged off by demons to fates worse than death, and that was not all. Time flowed in ways that were simply wrong here, he had lived what must be centuries, his wife had died of old age. Some of these men and women were his great-great-grandchildren, yet he felt as fit as he had before the goddess fell. He could sense a wrongness in the trail ahead, something moving beneath the sands.
He rounded toward and column and shouted. "Form battle lines! Prepare to repel ambush!" Instantly ranks were formed and marching cautiously forward. He hoped he would keep them alive long enough to escape hell.
------------------------
Age. It catches up with all of us, Terentius Ferius sat astride a great warhorse of the Bannor looking across the Clan's forces forming on the rise. He could no longer wear his armor, couldn't lift a sword, couldn't even wipe himself. When they had emerged from the gate he had been struck blind, eyes gone for an Age finally ceased to see, the confessors had drawn deep on their reserves and given him back his eyes, but no longer could any divine magics aid his broken frame. He would die on this battlefield, or the next, and not from an enemies axe but simple age. It wasn't as if he was afraid of death, but rather he didn't want to go back to hell. He heard the order to advance from Capria and as led his men forward he wept.
-------------------------
He lay for some time, a Clan spear in his chest, cataract covered eyes searching the sky above for death. He wanted to hold on as long as he could, taste a little more of his home's air before he was once more condemned. A shadow fell over him and a woman in black knelt by him, she smiled at him and once more blackness enveloped him.
He awoke in a forest far from the battlefield, the woman tending his wounds gently. He felt strangely invigorated, like his body had never known the touch of time. She looked up at him and said something he couldn't hear, and he felt his lips give an answer without him ever willing them too.
--------------------------
There was a sensation of falling, but there was no pain. He flesh was stripped and stretched and cleaned, the adept was like a sculptor working life into clay. Terentius stood at the end and looked into a silvered mirror and beheld the face of his youth, the only change was the balefire shining from his eyes.
---------------------------
He sat astride a great warhorse looking at the Clan's lines forming on a rise. This time he would not die, never again would he walk the wastes of hell. He was Reborn and he would create a paradise on Erebus. He heard Korrina give the order to advance and as he led his men forward he smiled.