The Oracle's Will
#1 of Shades of Grey
Shades of Gray.
The oracle at Lannys-Pier was resplendent in her gowned glory. Drapes of white silk cascaded from her shoulders and framed her face, intense in the throes of prophecy. She had forgone her normal routine of letting the volcanic winds flutter her dresses, because she knew that she didn't need the flashy show to impress me with her powers. Unlike my partner, I believed in every nuance of her foretellings.
Sir Garik had just exited the chamber, looking perturbed, because the oracle wanted to speak to me, and me alone. She'd given us the location of the Black Tower we sought, but as soon as Sir Garik has his answered, she'd told her guards to leave the chamber, and to take "The good sir knight" with them. I know I'd get the raw end of his ire later, but if the oracle believed it was important enough to have him taken from her presence, then I was willing to withstand it. I sat on the supplicant's matt, patiently awaiting her words.
"You are Rezik, the shield-arm of the knight Garik." Her words sounded hollow.
"Yes." I answered, then immediately felt silly. It had been a statement of fact, not a question.
"Your quest brings you against great danger, though not of the sort you expect. You both will need a strong sword arm, true, but you'll need greater clarity of mind and sense of wrong-doing. When I say you, I mean specifically you, Rezik. Even though Garik is the knight, and you a mere squire, it is your judgement that will see your quest fulfilled, or not." Her eyes found mine, and their gaze drove like needles into my mind. "Do you understand, Rezik of Pel?"
"I hear, though I don't yet understand." In my reading back at the White Tower, I had learned that I must be completely honest with the oracle, in order for her to be completely honest with me.
She narrowed her eyes, and I caught what must have been a smile from her. The extremities of her lips turned up for a moment, then fell again into a passive mask.
"You are canny, squire of knight Garik, and you remember your lessons well. I will give you the advice you seek. You will find a challenge that is not a challenge, but even though it does not seem necessary, a sacrifice must be made. That sacrifice is you, Rezik, but do not fear. Even though it seems like you must forfeit all, you will gain much more. Do not fear the sacrifice, Rezik of Pel, and the completion of your quest will be within your hands."
The words flowed over me like a torrent, and though none of them made any immediate sense, I remembered them by rote. Each and every word was ingrained in my memory like the scripts written indelibly across the pages in the books of the White Tower. As I sat there, surrounded by the glittering white room, listening to words spoken by the glittering white oracle, it took some moments before I realized she was speaking about my death.
"I will remember your words, Oracle." I stood from the matt, as I had received my foretelling. As I bowed and prepared to leave, the oracle spoke once more.
"Make sure that you do. More lives rely on your quest than you think. Go now to your knight and tell him that I spoke words of your homeland that were not his business. It is a lie, but he will not question you. Good travels, squire." She turned from me, and I from her as I left the oracle's chamber.
Outside stood Sir Garik, more perturbed than I'd seen since he'd taken a fall to Sir Maynes in the queen's tournament. As I approached, his eyes followed my every move critically. "Did the oracle have much to say to you, squire?" He spoke the title as if it were a curse. Hundreds of young men had strived to be squires for the Wolf Knights of White Tower, yet with one word, Sir Garik had degraded the position with the same tone he'd address a common stable-hand.
Immediately, my hackles rose, but before I responded, my teachings forced me to calm myself. Words spoken in anger cut deeper than swords. I had read that in another of the Tower's books, and I had taken that lesson to heart.
"She did, sir. She spoke to me of Pel, and of my home." I was no practised hand at lying, but even though the words rang hollow to my own ears, Sir Garik's face immediately fell, and his piercing glare softened.
"I'm sorry, Rezik. I should not have assumed, nor should I have goaded you." I had seen him in this mood as well, before, and I knew he'd mope about in his self-inflicted guilt if I didn't do something to defuse it.
"You worry too much, sir." I flashed him a smile, dropping my ears in a way that always melted his worst of moods. "Anyway, we got our answers, didn't we?"
"That we did." He reached out and tugged at my shoulder. I fell into step next to him, finding comfort in his presence. "That we did, my squire. Come, the Black Tower awaits."
One thing the epics written in the tomes of the White Tower always seemed to gloss over were the little annoyances of adventuring. They always focused on "Then the good knight found the great dragon, feasting on the corpses of his fallen brothers," or "And up from the waters of the swamp rose the tendrils of the Mantrap plant, swaying like whips and tangling like a net." (I especially liked the tale of the Mantrap plant, I always found it strangely exciting. Master Derrin always blamed Sir Garik for my wayward fascinations, though I think it was just my own mind at work.)
No, while we'd hunted down a manticore found preying on sheep on the border of the Great Eastern Jungle, and battled a swarm of snap-necks when we'd left the ill-tended road for the deep jungle, it wasn't those moments that I'd write of, if I were to catalogue my own journey. Instead, I would write of the nightly infestations of crawling, biting bugs that burrowed through fur and irritated skin, so each morning would have us itching all the way to the closest watering hole to drown them. I would write of the leeches found adhered to our thighs as we slogged through marshy bogs, surrounded by foliage so thick that we barely could see the light of the sun. I would write of ground so thick with roots that there was not a good nights sleep to be had at any price.
Though as I woke up this morning, I found one particular root interrupting my sleep that I'd welcome no matter the time of night. Sir Garik stirred restlessly, and the morning excitement I'd grown so used to tending to seemed to have woken up before he had. The wolf knight's strong arm closed around my chest and pulled me close, and I leaned my head submissively back to his shoulder. Years ago, when I'd just finished my apprenticeship, and Sir Garik had chosen me to be his squire, the idea of any kind of submission had seemed so alien to me. Now, though, the slight tilt of the head, baring my neck, and arching my back to grind against his morning arousal spread fire through my veins like no fickle bitch could, or ever had.
The motion seemed to have woken my knight up fully, though, as his muzzle sought my ear, and sharp lupine teeth nipped at the webbing. Fingers spread across my chest and buried themselves in my fur, and Sir Garik's nose poked at my neck as he dropped his muzzle to my shoulder. I felt shifting in the bedroll, and one of the knight's legs latched over mine, and the straining excitement that'd woken me ground against my tail bone. I let out a lustful pant, arching my hips back against his belly and flicking my tail up and against my back.
"You're so eager to fulfil your duties, squire." My ears burned with embarrassment. It was one thing to submit, one wolf to another. It was a whole other story, though, for this submission to be a part of my profession. I flicked my ears back, pinning them to my skull, and Garik let out a hot breath against my neck. "Not just any squire," he whispered, in a conciliatory tone, "My squire." I closed my eyes as the hot tip of his wolfhood pressed against my tail hole, first like a kiss, which left my bare skin wet and cold, then a forceful thrust. I let out a low whine as the pointed tip spread me wide, then the whine descended into a purring moan as the slick length slid quickly into my rectum. I writhed slowly, impaled on his point, as his strong arms curled and held me tightly. I held onto his arms, pushing my hips down against his, gliding eagerly down his knighthood to the knobs of his knot, while his lusty growl wounded in my ears. He licked at my neck, and I felt his hips roll, pushing me down into the root-strewn mess of our bedroll. I whined, knowing he'd next bite my neck, and he would start thrusting...
"You stink." His words sat hollow for a moment, then I felt his shaft slip from my tail end as he stood abruptly. I rolled, looking up at him in agitation, with a hundred words I could never say to my knight on my lips. Before I could make a fool of myself, though, his arms closed around me again, and he lifted me bodily from the bedroll.
"Whuff, Sir, I'm not a pup!" I complained, struggling against his grasp. I didn't need to struggle for long, though, as after a second, his arms swung, and let go. I cartwheeled through the air, too off-kilter to pull into a roll. I curled up, waiting for the unkind ground to rise up to meet me.
And found myself with lungs full of cold water. I sputtered and splashed, and my knee bounced off of something hard, leaving the start of an unpleasant bruise. Getting my bearings, I stuck my head out of the water and coughed. The water, just over knee height, chilled my fur, even though the jungle was normally hot enough to make me pant. "Evil, son of..." Those three words made their way from my muzzle before a splash rocked the water, throwing me slightly off balance. Sir Garik, naked and sopping, stood next to me.
"You were saying?" His insipid smile grated on my nerves, but long training as his squire turned my muttered curse into a proper address.
"Improper way for a knight to treat his squire. If the grandmaster heard..." I felt a splash as Sir Garik threw his arms around my waist, one wayward hand wrapping fingers around my tenders. A thumb dipped into my sheath, the sharp claw tracing teasingly over flesh that'd been chased inside by the chill water.
"A knight should not gaze at his squire so!" Sir Garik's chin came up, and his voice dipped into the doddering gait of the elderly, mimicking the grandmaster of our order almost perfectly. "It is unseemly, and unchaste!" The rough and calloused fingers rubbed over my sheath, dragging me back into the mood that the water had all but banished. I let out a snort of a laugh and put my hands on the high bed of roots that served as the shore for this impromptu watering hole. My knight slid behind me with just a ripple of water, and strong hands closed around my waist. His hot flesh touched my rump again, and without hesitation, he rocked his eager length back into my waiting orifice.
I glanced down and was captivated by the sight of our coupling in the choppy water. I spread my legs just slightly, and suddenly, in a calm shimmering between waves, I caught sight of Sir Garik's intensely red pride slipping slickly between my tawny rump cheeks. His hips pulled back, and the length slid until I could see the glittering ridge of his tip, then without missing a beat, the smooth organ thrust deep, until only the throbbing bulge of his knot showed red between his fur and mine. He rocked again, and a wide wave obscured my vision with the strength of his thrust. I gasped, the knight's weapon impaling me deeply.
My claws dug into the roots at the side of the shallow pool as Sir Garik's hand caught the base of my tail. Even though I'd become accustomed to sating his morning needs, the moment of stretching was always uncomfortable until he finished the tie. I let out an involuntary whine as my pucker stretched wide, but only for a moment. I felt the slick thump as his knobs pushed their way past my ring, and his hips bumped mine. He danced within me, hot liquid spilling into my rump, and I heard his ragged panting at my ear.
I glanced down again, and as the water settled, I smiled at the view I was greeted with. His lupine head hung over my shoulder, eyes closed and a smile on his lips. Except for my tawny fur to his grey, we could have been brothers. Our faces had the same gentle shift in fur tone, the same dark marks at the sides of the throat and tips of the ears. My form was lithe and sleek, where his was broad and muscled. Years of training and exercise had us both at the peak of fitness, so I consoled myself with just differences between our bodies that spoke of the dichotomy.
Further down, nestled beneath my swaying equipment, I could see just a hint of red where his hips were connected to mine. I felt him shudder again, and decided that this was my opportunity to see to my own needs. I removed one hand's worth of claws from the roots and ducked it beneath my huddled form. I grasped myself and and hunched a bit, tracing my own expert fingers along my endowment. My pinkie-finger curled around its base and tugged, while my thumb rubbed into the tip. I gasped and shuddered, and clenched around my Knight. I felt a tentative touch to my dangling tenders, and a glance down showed Sir Garik's tail had curled between my legs, and was wagging softly. I grunted, the unexpected caress sending me tumbling over the precipice. Liquid splattered into the pool in jittering spurts, each drop creating a myriad of waves that broke up the peaceful reflection of us. I sighed, and in the bleary haze after my high, watched the droplets of my seed ebb and flow in the pool as the waves bounced against the roots of the shore.
Behind me, Sir Garik let out his own sigh, and the hand holding my tail tugged again. I winced and set my stance as he pulled. Slowly, his knotted member tugged and twisted, until with a wet rush, I felt it slide free of me completely. The water at my legs became slightly milky as my body expelled the liquids of Sir Garik's exuberance, and he stepped back from me. I heard splashing as he began to wash himself, and after a moment to shake life back into my shaky knees, I began to do the same.
We climbed out of the watering hole, fur wet and chill in the morning jungle air. As sun began to stream down through the almost impenetrable leaf canopy far above our heads, though, warmth seeped into the air, and our fur quickly began to dry. I gave a sturdy shake, sending droplets flying into the underbrush. Sir Garik gave me a disdainful glare, but seeing no other alternative (and no one else watching to see his indignity,) he finally followed suit. I covered my eyes to avoid getting droplets of murky jungle water in them.
"We should be off, Zeek" I scowled at the nickname. "Come, armor me up. If your scouting was right yesterday, we'll need to be ready."
Again, my training forced me to restrain the comment that of course my scouting was correct. Angry words cut deeper than swords. I bit my lip and nodded, fetching the soft leather corselet that Sir Garik wore under his shining mail hauberk. As he stood, I first tied his modesties around his waist, to cover and protect the anatomy I was just previously so familiar with. Over that went the layer of smooth, unadorned leather, that kept his beautiful grey fur from being caught in the rings of his mail. Over that went the heavy ringed hauberk. Last night, like every before it, I had spent the time to polish the visible rings with pig fat, to keep them moving smoothly and free of rust. Finally, over that went the tunic of the White Tower Wolf Knights, with the silhouette of a lupine face over a green field. The tunic was frayed at the edges and showing the stains of our travel, which no amount of scrubbing last night at the small water hole would remove.
Adorned in his armor as a true knight, he turned and retrieved his sword and shield, waiting for me to finish my morning chores. First, I broke camp, gathering our bedroll and few travelling possessions into my carry-sack. Next, I quickly donned my modesty and cured leather cuirass. By the time I was ready, Sir Garik was waiting impatiently by the trunk of a massive tree.
"Drop the pack, Rezik, I'll give you a hand up to make sure we're on the right path." Inwardly, I cursed. I hated climbing, and I was sure where I'd seen the tip of the Black Tower yesterday. I saw the wisdom in his words, though, and dropped the carry sack at his feet. With a boost, I scrambled to the first branch of the tree, and quickly felt my way from gnarled branch to branch.
I moved carefully, testing my weight on each branch before moving on. Splinters caught in my paw, and were quickly removed by my teeth before I reached for the next branch. After a few minutes, I'd climbed out of sight of Sir Garik beneath me, and I heard him call up, "Do you see it yet?"
I was still far from the canopy, so called down, "Not yet, sir. Just a few more moments." I sighed to myself and grabbed another branch, pulling myself up another foot.
Brilliance blinded me as I cleared the canopy, the tree I'd climbed towering another twenty feet over the next closest tree. In the direction of our travel, not more than half a mile away, the dark sides of the Black Tower stood in contrast to the surrounding green. The tower was constructed of smooth features, onyx or basalt blocks climbing one on top of another and gleaming in the sunlight like an ebony knife. Appropriately, there were bass reliefs of twisted gargoyle shapes in its exterior, giving its foreboding presence an equal malignance to the grandeur of our own White Tower. I regarded the tower, knowing that if the oracle's words were true, I soon had a difficult choice to make.
There were no outward-facing windows, though so the extent of my scouting could only confirm its presence, and the enormity of its size. I quickly descended, sure now of our position. I swung from branch to branch in a way I'm sure I would have enjoyed, had I not already had fingers full of rough bark and thighs chafed by gripping gnarled branches.
"I see it sir, just where it's supposed to be. Half a mile from here, I'd estimate." I landed heavily on the ground next to Sir Garik. As I picked splinters carefully from my palm, he ruffled my ears, as if I were an obedient boy.
"Good. Then let's be off." Turning, he led the way through the twisted undergrowth.
In the jungle, while progress crawls at snail's pace, peril strikes swiftly as an arrow. One moment, we stomped into sight of the dark foundations of the tower, the next, we were surrounded. Dropping from the trees, small shadows with all the grace of a marionettes with their strings cut swung down from the trees. They had us trapped, blocking all escapes between the broad trunks of the jungle trees. Within a heartbeat, Sir Garik's sword jumped from his scabbard to his hands, and a heartbeat later, I drew my own with a flourish. The years of harsh training took hold, and I instinctively pushed my back to Garik's, our tails touching at their base. The shadows began to close on us, and by their large, flapping ears, I recognized them as Nik-Niks, the goblin pests that made their homes in the jungle.
"To the left, low sweep." Sir Garik's voice floated calmly over my shoulder. I ducked quickly as his sword arm flung over my head, then dove forward in a brutal slash to my left. The wicked point of my sword found goblin flesh and tore, and acrid blood stained the ground as two of their number fell flailing to the mossy jungle floor. I heard goblin cries behind me as Sir Garik's own sweep caught them unawares.
My right foot stepped over my left, I pulled my sword back into a high guard, then stepped back. I felt Sir Garik's arm nudge me under the ribs and his tail thump my buttocks as our backs met again. The goblins halted their advance, unsure of their quarry now that we'd shown ourselves to be a deadly match. One dark goblin, his raggedy vest festooned with tattered ribbons, slunk forward and jabbed with his spear.
"Mid!" I called, and I felt Sir Garik respond. He ducked and stepped to my right, as my sword came down out of the guard to parry the spear. Its wooden haft shot past my shoulder, and the goblin holding it stumbled as he over-extended. My sword spun at waist-height, arm swinging freely where Garik had been just a moment ago, and the sharp edge caught the goblin across the neck. With a gurgling howl, the goblin dropped its spear and fell, clawing at its neck. I finished the manuever, the blood from my sword splattering the goblins in front of me as I settled into a low guard, Garik's elbow tickling my ear as he fell back into place behind me.
The goblins surrounding us fell back, then with gibbering cries, scuttled back up into the trees. They left behind slowly spreading swathes of black blood underneath their dead companions. Garik and I held our pose for a few more moments, making sure that there was no unexpected counter-attack, but as the cries scampered away in the treetops, I felt him relax behind me. I reached my hand back to him, and felt the pommel of his sword being pressed into my hand. At my feet, where my carry-sack had dropped prior to battle, I retrieved a rough swatch of ruined cloth and cleaned Garik's blade.
"Goblins." Garik spat. "There'll be traps, then. Keep an eye out for snares." I turned and handed his sword back to him, ornate hilt first. The cross guards were styled and engraved, like the rest of his sword; the true weapon of a knight. He sheathed it, and I saw to my own sword after, the plain blade no less deadly for its lack of ornamentation. As I finished, I turned back to him, and found him staring at me longingly. I had no doubt what urges were pushing against the front of his modesty. I felt the same rush, adrenaline pumping through my veins, and the hot rush of arousal that always followed a fight. He let out a soft grunt as I sheathed my sword. His paw reached for me, but before it reached me, he pulled it back. "Damn, they may be back at any moment."
I sighed and nodded. His battle-lust would have to wait, as would mine. I shoved the sword home in its sheath, jamming the cross guard in frustration. Without further comment, I led towards the tower, careful on every foot step for traps or snares.
"Could you tell any kind of 'front' from the treetops, Rezik?" He gazed up at what little of the monolithic structure we could see.
"Sorry, no. It had all the sculptures and inlays from the drawings, but the drawings never showed enough to see which way was front." I answered, re-shouldering my carry-sack and stepping ahead so I could peer around the corner ahead of Garik. Halfway down the length of the tower's side, I saw a raised dais and portico. The entrance loomed wide, at least three or four lengths tall. I swallowed my anxiousness. Somewhere, soon, I had a sacrifice to make. "I don't think we need to guess, though. Looks like it's here."
"Any guards?"
"Not that I can see. Those goblins may have been them." I responded.
"Let's hope." He stepped past me, drew his sword and shield with a smooth motion, and started to pace carefully towards the entrance. I followed close after, shadowing his footsteps.
"Snare, three steps forward, one left." He called back to me. I followed our path with my eyes, and spotted the snare hidden deftly in a root hollow. Figuring that they may use the same trick again, I looked around for similar protrusions.
"I see, sir." I called, then spotted another. "Another, ten paces forward, two to the left." The second snare was disguised to look like a root tangle, but I could see the vine-like rope heading incongruously into the tree.
"Looks like the goblins were it, then." I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see me, then sheathed my sword. I reached into the carry sack on my shoulder and felt for the hard rods sewed into one side of the fabric. I pulled one free and handed it forward to him.
Sir Garik took the rod and rapped it sharply on the solid wall of the tower. The rod sparked, and then bright, unforgiving light streamed from its tip. He held it in his shield hand, the rod glaring in the edge of my vision like the sun reflecting off of water. As we ascended the dais, we glanced around alertly, fully expecting an attack from any quarter.
I let out a growl as we reached the archaic and portalled entrance to the tower. "Quiet Rezik" Sir Garik scolded. There was no door or portcullis, but the inside seemed clean and well kept, even as open to the elements as it was. "Unnatural place" I heard the mumble as Sir Garik held the shining rod aloft. "Let us do our duty and be gone."
Wholeheartedly agreeing, I followed him through the gateway.
Inside, the tower seemed cavernous. The ceiling was more than five of my body heights above us, and the walls too far away to see clearly in the glare of the rod-light. As we stalked further into the tower, the light from outside dimmed and shrank, even though we were well within eye shot. "It's playing tricks on your eyes, Rezik." I heard Garik mutter, and shook my head. Sure enough, just twenty paced behind us, the door outside stood in clear view. "Don't let it get into your head."
"I won't, sir." I responded. I followed him forward, stepping carefully in the dancing shadows in the light of the glaringly bright rod. As we moved, the room's contents came into view. My eyes started to become accustomed to the relative darkness, and with difficulty, I could see all of the walls at once. In the center of the room stood a dark and foreboding circle of stone, standing vertical like a disembodied gateway.
I had read about the Gray Portals, and everyone who was anyone had seen the one on the ground floor of the White Tower. It was the mirror of this one, dark grey stones embedded with runes too old to understand. In the white tower, it was ringed about with bannisters, to keep anyone approaching it. Though it hadn't happened in my lifetime, it was said that anyone who attempted to go through it now would die a terrible death, to roam the halls of the White Tower forever.
"I don't understand. Where's the guardians?" Sir Garik growled under his breath. Again, I caught my tongue before I scolded him back to be quiet, as he had to me just moments before. He was right, though. In all of my readings about the two towers, there was a guardian for each portal. In the white tower, there was a wyrm, half again as tall as a Wolf Knight, who slumbered peacefully near the circle.
"Sir Garik, I don't trust this." I was starting to feel nervous, like we were missing something obvious. I turned away from the Gray Portal, eyes scanning the sides of the room.
"Neither do I, squire. It's like they forgot to put the challenge in this challenge."
Suddenly, the words of the oracle came back to me, and my feeling of uneasiness solidified into a cold lump at the bottom of my stomach. "Say that again, sir?"
"What? This is a challenge that's no challenge! They could have sent a peasant to conquer this tower, let alone a full Wolf Knight. You could have done this alone!" As much as it burned to be compared to peasantry, he was right. This evil edifice should be brimming with monsters of demonic countenance, like the stories of old. Instead, we'd found half a band of goblins squatting in an abandoned tower.
"This seems pointless" I remarked, and gathered my wits. I was sure, without a shadow of doubt, that this was the moment the oracle had spoken of.
"You can say that again. Fine, let's find the stairs up and clear out the rest of this place." He held the rod above his head, searching for a stairway or exit from the huge room.
Pointless indeed, but did I trust the oracle's words? It'd seem so simple, then, but now that I was faced with it, did I have the will to do it? I stepped towards the Gray Portal, hovering in indecision.
"Rezik? Come away from there, we need to find the way out." Sir Garik was watching me, waiting for me to follow him, the obedient squire I am.
At that moment, my thoughts crystallized. Things here must not be as they seemed. This was no challenge, this was a trap, a more elaborate one than any goblin could craft. We were walking to our doom, or would be, if I didn't make up my mind now. My breath caught in my throat, and I knew that if I delayed, I would never have the will to go through with it.
"I'm sorry, sir." I whispered, though the words carried well enough in the empty room. Sir Garik's eyes shot wide, and he broke into a sprint towards me.
He had ten paces to reach me, though, and I only had two before I passed through the forbidding stone circle of the portal. I felt a slight resistance as my foot stepped through, and there was a shimmer in the air of repressed magic. It felt like I was stepping forward into a cold spring. As I stepped forward, I heard Sir Garik yelling at me, coming close. Not quickly enough, though, with a small hop off of my back foot, I leapt through the circle.
I felt an explosion without sound, as if I'd run face-first into a wall. I landed on the far side of the portal, still standing. I looked at Sir Garik, who was glaring at me with unrestrained fury, and gave him a little smile. Then, slowly, tingling started spreading up my fingers and toes. Sir Garik started yelling again, but now it was as if he was very far away. I felt a very soft shudder pass through my body, and the tingling disappeared. In its place, nothing. My arms and feet went numb, and energy drained from my limbs as I fell to the floor. Sir Garik's mouth was still moving, I think he was calling my name. Then he was at my side, holding me up. He looked like he was still angry.
The last energy drained from my chest, and dark clouds edged into my vision. I know I still had a smile on my face, clasped in Sir Garik's arms. The oracle would be right, I knew without a doubt. I held on to that surety as the darkness closed in. My sacrifice would be Sir Garik's salvation, and the completion of our quest was in my hands.
My cold, lifeless hands.
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(Fin! Rezik, Sir Garik, and all the monster's they're about to slay are (c) Kandrel. Any resemblance to other characters is only incedental and unintentional. Reposting is permissable, however, all reposts must be in original form, and must contain the author's name unaltered.)
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