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| − | By MunificentPerception
| + | #REDIRECT SaltLotus/SaltLotus |
| − | Back to: [[/Dawn]]
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| − | '''Some days later, to the west…'''
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| − | His name was Holvic Kagi, and he was angry because the dawn had not come. There were only the dead under the leaden sky, scrabbling at the fortifications and pulverizing the mortar in the gaps between stones with unfeeling fingers. They had already undermined one portion of the mining camp’s stone-reinforced earthen walls. The outer layer had crumbled there and allowed the restless dead to tear into the tamped soil of the wall’s inner half. As the dirt slumped and collapsed, the first of the shambling corpses forced their way up and over the mound.
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| − | Holvic had positioned himself in the middle of that gap. He was a giant of a man, a dusky-skinned, black-haired descendant of southern soldiers wielding a great sword named Enlightenment. The two-handed weapon had been carved from of a shard of the translucent, dark-red First Age glass that made up the ancient toppled towers of the city of Chiaroscuro. There was weight behind the two-arm span of the blade’s sharp edge. Enough weight to smash through bone, pierce corpses and sever unliving spines. The dead lay two deep round Holvic when a zombie finally managed to lunge past and clutch the banded plates of his lamalar armor, seeking to drag him off his feet. There were few living men capable of withstanding the might of the dead, and Holvic was one of them. He leaned back, widened his stance and with one hand punched the pommel of Enlightenment into the dead thing’s face. Bone collapsed under the impact, and Holvic pulled himself free.
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| − | Behind him, the tired men and women of the besieged Kagi mercenary company stood awestruck. They were elite foot soldiers, heavy infantry for hire, trusted by the Seventh Legion to operate from the city of Lookshy. It had been at the urging of the Legion’s General Staff that they had taken work with the beleaguered city-state Thorns to gather intelligence, and now they found themselves facing the undead warriors of The Mask of Winters as the Deathlord’s troops erupted into the lands of the living.
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| − | Even before this dark day, there were none among the Kagi ranks who were not already impressed by the son of their captain and commander. Holvic was among the truly gifted. Physically adroit, perceptive, fast to respond and utterly fearless in the press of battle, his devotion to the way of the sword was such that the elder Aric Kagi had given the family blade over to him, the youngest son, well before his own retirement. Many of the soldiers knew that Holvic's dedication would have likely set him on the path to becoming one of the warrior-monks of the Immaculate Order, if not for the family’s devotion Eastern and Southern gods of war.
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| − | Now they watched his death struggle, the final battle of his life. There could be no retreat, for the sheer numbers of the moving dead would not allow it. The enemy poured in two at a time, and any attempt to change out, to let another to take his place, would provide the opening needed for the zombies to push past. As it was, there were already too many of his father’s soldiers laid out on the ground behind him with their limbs green and rotted where the claws of the dead had scored their flesh in earlier skirmishes. Now there was only the motion of destiny, the cleaving of unliving foes and the perfection of the way. Holvic’s arms ached and threatened to cramp as he devoted himself to discovering if victory could be won through force of will alone.
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| − | Then the Nemissary smashed him to the ground with its cold iron mace. One moment there had been only the unthinking attacks of shambling corpses, and then the giant had appeared in their midst. A hulk of rotten flesh encased in black iron, it was animated not by some sorcerer’s necromancy but by the sheer will of one who had died and yet refused to give his body over to the earth.
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| − | Holvic screamed. His crushed ribs sang with pain as the javelins of his companions split the air over him. The leviathan refused to be slowed by the attacks, and the darts glanced off the dark plates of its armor. It towered over Holvic, raising its black mace, and the wounded man thrust his sword up in a motion of defiance. In that moment the Nemissary was immolated. Light like molten gold poured over the creature of the underworld, slagging its armor and causing its bones to shine radiantly from within the tattered casement of its flesh.
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| − | Holvic rolled away, shielding his eyes as the dead thing flared brightly and burned away in boiling streamers of oily smoke.
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| − | “You.” The voice that spoke was one of roaring surf and angry armies, and Holvic felt sick as his existence resonated with its power. “You who have followed the sword, you are my Chosen now.” Holvic shook uncontrollably. “Know that I turned my eyes from this world out of wrath and wounded pride. No longer is this so. You are my priest. Go with my light and better this world as you see fit.”
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| − | With that, Holvic opened his eyes and stared upwards at the black, unnatural clouds that shielded the battlefield from the day. Essence, the life blood of Creation sang through him as he pulled himself to his feet. It flowed through his armor, making it as light as a cotton robe and eased the throbbing of his abused body.
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| − | Behind him, his companions were nearly blinded by the brilliance of the noiseless white and gold flame that burned around him. In the air above, the holy image of a golden bull raised its head and bellowed to Heaven as Holvic Kagi strode forward into the ranks of the dead.
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| − | Next: [[/Twilight]]
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| − | Back to: [[/Dawn]]
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| − | Back to: [[Salt Lotus]]
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| − | ''This is a work of fan fiction set in White Wolf’s Exalted fantasy setting and is no way meant to challenge White Wolf’s copy rights or trademarks. The characters Joyous Gift, Mirror Flag, Ribbons of Sorrow, Shield of a Different Day, Spinner of Glorious Tales and Weaver of Dreams of Victory, as well as the city Great Forks are trademarked White Wolf Property.''
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