Fiction:Tales of Champions/Orichalcum Age

Kinmorunddraver: Hand of Retribution
"Kings, queens, tyrant or peasant; wrath cares not what victim it claims. But the hand of wrath is the hand of retribution, and those fit for retribution shall receive it in due course. All those that Isiris' eyes look upon are the chosen of this world, and it will be shared among them equally."

Date: 14,716 BNA

The wide-set and tall walls of Sarisanelium's palace flung open. A party of eighteen Orichalcum Elves, each one of them clad in armour coloured in both black and gold, ornate almost to the point of lunacy entered the room. These soldiers were guardsmen to the tyrannical empress Misericordia Castus - who ruled over the world - her world with a fist so hard cast that it shattered the minds of the strong and was decorated in opulence so vast, much of which was plucked from the lifeless hands of her former enemies. The throne room of the Empress - so desecrated by this unjust wealth was the pinnacle of civilisation for tens of thousands of years, and was brought down so heavily by the tyranny of Misericordia and her father, Micaelis, that hundreds of thousands of the Imperium's civilians starved and died at her whim. These men however that had entered the room had brought with them the World-Walker - his hands bound behind his back in golden chains and forced forwards as the guards held him at spearpoint. Misericordia herself, savagely beautiful as she was, looked towards the Phoenix held in chains and almost burst out laughing - instead, she danced a dance of victory as to not sour the occasion. Kinmorunddraver however, his feathers iridescent with nocturnal light, remained silent and his eyes furrowed as was normality. There was no hint of apprehension or fear on the Phoenix' face, which did not seem to faze the Empress in her madness.

Scantily clad herself, with only well-spun red robes covering a majority of her features, the Empress held a chalice of wine in her left hand, which in itself was clad with rings of multiple former nobles, and in her right hand suddenly emerged a small dagger that she ran across her own face - careful not to make herself bleed, but her mouth filled with perfectly white teeth suddenly emerged. It was enough to unnerve anyone who laid eyes upon her; entrancing as she was, there were little around her that considered her a presence of safety. Kinmorunddraver nevertheless remained stationary, although the guards behind him knelt down in the presence of their Empress. Misericordia's smile suddenly disappeared as she saw Kinmorunddraver remain standing - approaching the phoenix, her eyes meeting his, she moved in as close as perhaps the distance of two lovers would be. She may have been enamoured by the presence of the Phoenix, although Kinmorunddraver was not of the same mind.


 * Misericordia - Would you not bow before your Empress, Phoenix? It is only customary. And wise, as a matter of fact.
 * Kinmorunddraver - The last time I set foot within this palace, it was Leolinus that sat within that throne. How far the throne has fallen that a little girl, with too much power within her hands now sits upon the world's apex.
 * Misericordia - I suspect you were not in chains then, were you? It seems that you are now on the wrong side of history.
 * Kinmorunddraver - You would be a fool to assume history is the only factor in time.

A slight pinch came from Misericordia, as she plucked out a feather from Kinmorunddraver's neck. It was amazingly soft - similiar to that of a dove, but as she examined it, a sonorous tone came from the feather as it wove around in her grasp. She looked to the phoenix and back to the feather multiple times, whilst Kinmorunddraver remained mostly the same, although his eyes had took to observing his surroundings.


 * Misericordia - They say that the feathers of a Phoenix were a gift from Kaur-arān. They say that you were made in his image. Or are you Kaur-arān himself, descended from the heavens?
 * Kinmorunddraver - I am what you deem me, 'Imperatrix'.
 * Misericordia - Then you are a relic of a time long past. You have been set to wandering this world for years beyond count, during the time of my grandfather's grandfathers. Is there not a better purpose to your existence? ...Perhaps your very body to serve my purposes?

The guards that had brought him in suddenly spurred into motion. Taking their weapons into their hands, they encircled the Phoenix, still bound in chains. Many of them took to holding their spears at his neck, whilst Misericordia's dagger was pressed against it also, her face still uncomfortably close to the Phoenix' own.


 * Misericordia - Your body could be mine, Phoenix. I would wager that the blood that runs through your veins could sustain my life until the end of time itself. You could help me refashion this world into my own...and perhaps even a space for you as my Imperator if you would so let me. Children, cast both in flesh golden and divine to see the new world come into motion.
 * Kinmorunddraver - The crevices of the void will pull you in before such a thing comes to pass, mortal.

The Empress, enraged by his words, plunged her dagger into the Phoenix' neck. No blood seeped from the wound, although the blade itself turned black as it was lodged in Kinmorunddraver's flesh. The blade crumbled not unlike sand at the hilt, and the spectacle caused Misericordia to relinquish its grasp in pure horror.


 * Kinmorunddraver - Too long has your existence come to bear sour fruit on this earth, Misericordia Castus. See as you plunge your blade, it crumbles in your hand. Your time is short. No fruit can be harvested from this field; the tree that was planted by your father is doomed to rot.
 * Misericordia - L-lies! Guards! Kill the Phoenix! Kill him!

Before the guards could even move their spears forwards, the very course of time began to grind to a halt. The very hearts and minds of the guards suddenly fell into disarray as their bodies slowly strayed out of their control, and Misericordia, bearing witness to the Phoenix' magic, did what she could to run, although her body forbade her to move fast enough. Kinmorunddraver's chains shattered as his arms moved forward - the left hand gestured close to his head, bearing a white light as bright as the sun, whilst the right gestured near his waist, a light that sucked in all other light around it. As he brought the two hands together, the very energy of his being - both benevolent and malicious eviscerated the very flesh of the guards surrounding him; the armour they wore bore no protection as it and the rest of its wearer faded into matter so fine it could not have been held in ones hands. The golden etchings of the palace was wiped of its beauty as it was left with the cold and hard rock that constructed that very building, now set to crumble by the destructive power of the Phoenix as he sought to bring retribution on the Empress.

Kinmorunddraver walked forward in this timelessness - Misericordia's eyes motionless but animated with sheer terror as the divinity approached her in turn. His right hand, bearing the consuming energies of his own soul, planted itself upon Misericordia's face. Though she could not scream in fear nor in pain, her very being burned with the power that Kinmorunddraver cast upon her. It was there that she saw it - amid the terrifying might of the Phoenix, that she saw her own death occurring. She knew that, despite it not having come to pass that it was her own son plunging a blade through her heart. She could feel the shock of the blade piercing her, although she saw herself being stabbed. Although this had frightened her, the voices that surrounded this event - countless upon countless voices plaguing her with the truth and the immutability of the matter. No matter what would come to pass, Kinmorunddraver had set a path in motion that would leave Misericordia maddened and broken. He removed his hand from her face, leaving a burnt impression on her once beautiful visage that would never be removed.