The Last Immortal

"I don't know how I feel about this, it was more mental conjecture than an actual story format, I may flesh it out eventually." -Alexi

The rain has begun.

It always rains.

The jet black clouds rolling in from west, cresting and building. The shouted epithets, battle cries and clashes of steel on the plains below me being drowned out by the deep rumble of thunder.

Slowly, a few drops darkening the color of my armor, and then the torrential downpour begins, the skies open up and weep at the coming battle, the lives that will soon be lost.

All for the sake of greed and power.

As the rain continues, I look out at the armies massed before me. The Dakre, Velosh, Mercers and even the Order of Sun. For hundreds of years, they were enemies to each other. War after countless war with each other. Each convinced of their own superiority, that their way of life the better.

But they are all the same.

Corrupted nobles, who exploit the people of this world. Poverty, disease, and crime run rampant. Slavery and exploitation of anyone, the weak, the children, the defenseless, the innocent. Those repressed, repress those even further down the cycle than them, and so it continues.

Compassion is dead.

It always comes full circle back to the rain.

I have stood here, in this place, against the armies of all that would uphold their own corruption, every thousand years. The names change, but the anger and sentiments are the same. They know what we are, and what we bring.

They know that every thousand years, the Cleansing comes.

The cycle of Cleansing has continued for eons, with my knights always standing vigilant for when the catalyst must be protected. We were the Guardians of Life. But now we are I, and this time, our order may fail.

The forces before me are the greatest, most ruthless armies I have ever seen at the fight of the Cleansing. The forces of corruption have bolstered their ranks beyond even our imagining. And they have spent the past thousand years hunting down, and killing all that stood against them. A great alliance. My kind has been killed, slaughtered mercilessly. These humans do not heed the numbers they must allow to be slaughtered to kill one of us. They think only of their goals, the success of their mission. Their greed in a world without us. To prevent us from aiding the catalyst in the final sacrifice, that is what they endeavor towards now.

If we succeed, we can hope, as we always do that no semblance of the corruption will remain to spread again, for after this there will never be another Cleansing. A blood sacrifice is required, the blood of my kind.

I am the last.

If we fail, this world will fall into ruin, the fighting will continue until all are
either dead, or under the rule of the strongest of the corrupt.
However, if we fail, then they will always remember this day, and the cost it took for their victory, and maybe that will be enough for hope of a better world.
The come now, to bring their battle to me, their brassy sound of their horns trumpeting over the storm, the resounding call of the war drums, the screams and cries of anger tinged with fear. They know who they face, they know, but they know I am the last of my kind, the last Immortal guardian. It is a good day to join my brothers and sisters in death, and so the battle will begin.

For thousands of years, on this spot, at the time of the Cleansing, it rains. Perhaps it is, as they say, the Keeper of Life, weeping for the loss that must come about. I do not know, nor do I know if there is a Keeper, for I have never died.
I shall know soon, but I intend to bring a great many with me.

Let it begin.