Above the Skies

[The Afterman]

(Note: This piece wasn't something I planned. In fact, it was rather spur of the moment, and isn't particularly elaborate as my writing tends to be. I cannot honestly say I'm all too proud of this bit, but it was an idea I had to put to paper, so to speak. Either way, it was pretty interesting to write, and I hope its enjoyable at least.)


They sat in the common room, four alloy flagons full of ale sat on a glass tabletop in front of them. They were a company of seven men, under the flag of Her Royal Military. They were the Knights of the Celestial Threshold, a band of brothers-in-arms whose sole purpose was the exploration of the darkest depths of space and eradicate any and all forces of evil or abnormal and vicious monstrosities; a task each of them carried out quite tremendously. Through the window, the oldest of the group, a lieutenant named Kirk Zalestrom, observed the dancing light of the stars as the Steed drifted patiently through the heavens on auto-pilot. His face was a painting of severeness, and solemn disposition. He was never one to overly indulge in merriment, preferring his drink in the solitude of his own head and room, but today the captain decided he wanted to toast this band of brave men, so he decided it best to include himself in their celebratory event. As they all laughed, save Kirk himself, there seemed to be an air of calm and ease, like their troubles were few and far away from them, however close those dangers still were and always would be. They took this time to revel in their latest victory; the Knights encountered a beast unlike anything they'd ever faced, on a remote planet scouted out a few weeks prior to their landing. That creature had been like something out of fantasy: overlarge, towering high above these mere humans, claws and jowls as sharp as obsidian blades. It seemed reptilian, with a rather flat face and a roar that would have stricken fear into lesser men. Its scales were an organic armor that made a mockery of their initial assault. . . . .


Kirk stared, his gaze hardened and his face betraying none of the shakiness and terror his heart pumped through his veins. He looked around, to his brothers, all whom gave him the same nod of resolve. They all stood in their armor, which gleamed in the high sun above, shining alloy suits that provided them with the protection they needed, both from the elements and from enemies. However, staring down this particular foe made them think their armor didn't matter. This wasn't a deterrent, however; they were all ready to die. Every day the possibility loomed over them like the shadow of Death himself. Captain Vence Io, their leader, stared amazed at the monster that towered over them like a fortress of plated armor, bellowing hateful choruses that echoed throughout the plains below. As they stood on that mountaintop, a blackened landmass with a flat zenith; possibly the result of this creature's own redecoration. It burrowed a cave in the side of the mountain, which it clambered out of in order to challenge the Knights. Their Sword pulse rifles were useless against the hard armor of the creature they dubbed "Gezidian," a name which generally meant 'terror' or 'monster' in Archaic. Vence, a younger man at the age of thirty, still a decade younger than Kirk, was a man of boldness and bravery, but knew the limitations of each; he was not a man to carelessly throw either himself or his men into battle.

Directly to his left stood sergeant major Jore Redstone, a hulk of a man, at thirty-seven, made even more hulkish by his dense and bulky heavy armor. Two hundred and nine pounds of solid muscle, made three hundred and fifteen pounds due to his armor. It was blocky, rather square in design on his arms and legs, while the torso piece was rounder. His helmet was stylized like old world raiders, with two downward-facing horns on the sides. Jore wielded a Greataxe, a heavy weapon that hurled large masses of energy projectiles into the chosen target. It was a very impractical and improbable weapon, but Jore utilized it with an artistic style only he could ever perfect. Undoubtedly, he was the "tank" of the band, but he was also an artist on the battlefield. He aimed, firing off one, two, three shots which slammed into the unwavering hide of the Gezidian. This served to further infuriate the already pissed off monstrosity. With a hand that rained down like a storm the beast sought the end of the band of Knights, only to no avail. Captain Io issued a dispersion before they were crushed, ushering the men on his left in right to those direction while he moved backward. The resulting tremor shook the men to their cores, and saw to it that one of them stumbled and fell to their own ass. Irwin Vestabond, a young man aged eighteen, was the newest addition to the Knights, and had never seen monsters such as the ones he'd faced in the Knights before he'd even joined the Order of Celestial Guardians. Before he had been dubbed a Squire, Irwin had been a scout for Her Royal Military's Army. He was mostly stationed planetside, seeing hardly any space travel, which was another new addition upon his initiation into the Knights. He was offered the promotion after exhibiting uncommon valor and uncanny bravery after rescuing his platoon from being overrun by setting and detonating a series of explosives as well as drawing their fire away from the pinned down unit by opening fire from his position from a treeline. He eagerly and very cheerily accepted his promotion, and his inauguration was held a month afterward.

Even as his heart raced, Private Denrio Jenkins was still able to laugh at the Squire's comeuppance of his own poor footing. Even Kirk chuckled a bit, unheard by the others. "Look alive, private!" Vence demanded. After expelling his last bits of laughter, Jenkins apologized to his captain, pondering aloud how Vence didn't find the event funny himself. "We'll pick on the Squire later," the captain said, smirking. "For now, focus on this beast and how to kill it." Denrio was twenty-six years of age, and an excellent sniper. Armed with a Longbow rifle, he was a deadly force, unmatched by anyone in Her Royal Military. He'd been ordered to come along with the rest of the band rather than plot out a sniping position as he usually did because there was no tactically advantageous place for him to set up a temporary nest: this mountain was a singular structure, bereft of any similar neighboring mountains. It was more like a lonesome stone tower jutting from the ground amidst a deserted plain of whispering winds. Henceforth, Denrio was out of options but to come along, just in case he was needed. "Denrio, you never decide upon a proper moment for your humor, do you?" one of his brothers playfully chided. The words of Havant Dantis caused a smile to creep upon Denrio's lips. Havant was a sergeant, aged thirty-three. He was Denrio's foster brother in their earlier days, even before Havant had pursued a military career. After leaving Denrio at home to go off and serve in Her Royal Military, Havant made a career out of recklessness, which somehow made him one of the best soldiers Her Royal Military had ever seen. He was responsible for many forward charges into unconquered territory, resulting in many victories for the Fifty-First Battalion. While his behavior was crass and often times downright idiotic, his charisma and ability to draw so much bravery from his fellow soldiers, he was recognized as a great asset to the corp. His induction into the Knights of the Celestial Threshold didn't take much time at all, and before he knew it, Denrio was right there by his side.

Opening fire on the monster did no good: it only angered the creature, causing its violence to stimulate and overflow. It swung its massive razor arms at the Knights below his gaze, creating cracks and causing quakes to hurtle through the foundation of the mountain. In one clean sweep, it nearly brought an end to the elite soldiers, a single blink of their eyes and leap of their hearts and life was hanging on the edge by a threadbare rope. Even out in the sun the dark possibility of death hovered. The situation was indeed a critical one. "Oppressive fire" was shot upward at the Gezidian, only for them to witness the energy bolts splatter against the beast's skin like splashing water. Oppressive fire was a term conjured up by the captain, who ordered it in times of unfavorable odds; it was called oppressive fire because it was used in situations where suppressive fire wasn't an option, in those situations where they would either lay waste to the enemy, or call the hole they were entrenched in their deathbed. However, it seemed that even oppressive fire was not yielding results, as the Gezidian was able to shrug off the attacks as if the plasmatic projectiles were flies upon its flesh; bothersome and annoying, yet insignificantly so. Given out by the turn of events and constant evasion of sure split-second destruction, the men were quite exhausted. "Captain Vence," Denrio called out, "If this keeps up, I don't believe we'll last very much longer." He knew the private was correct: they were spread out, which made them harder to hit, harder to kill. However, the men were tired, and this demon was unrelenting. Faced with certain death if he didn't do something stat, Captain Io turned to his last resort option. The comm system in his helmet was quickly engaged, and he relayed contact back to the Steed.

"Charles! Charles, are you there!?" the captain yelled over the roars and swipes of the Gezidian. There was silence for the longest eleven seconds Vence had ever counted through in his life. "I'm here Captain. What's the situation?" Charles Fenzend, thirty-nine, second lieutenant and helmsman of the Steed, had been ordered to remain on ship in case the Knights needed a quick escape. However, what the captain had in mind was much more dire, and even much more risky. "I need you to fire up the Lances, and you'll be coming in hot. I need you to blast this thing into Oblivion!" More silence, and before the captain even knew what had happened, their ship was there, hovering at the edge of the mountain's zenith, just out of range of where they were. It was as if time had jumped ahead in this madness. Or maybe Charles had been waiting all along for this moment. Either way, the blinding blue pulsating light emanating from the Lances at the sides of the Steed were beginning to heat up the already scorching air. The reflective light could be seen in the demon's eyes as it roared, just before all hell was unleashed on the damnable creation, eviscerating its tough outer armor and exposing a tender, pinkish skin that the Knights began to fire upon. This caused the beast to shield its face with its arms. Finally, in frustration, it raised its arms, ready to pulverize the band of Knights into the dusty ground they stood on. A loud crack erupted through the air, and a spurt of blood ejected from the Gezidian's face. Everyone looked to Denrio, who had still been peering through his scope as his target stumbled, fell, and finally vanished from sight. There was a quake that shook the base of the mountain all the way up. The Knights felt it in their feet. Charles landed the ship, opening the loading doors for the men to usher themselves into. The captain silently thanked the helmsman with a clap on the shoulder, and the pilot raised the ship from the mountain and sped off toward the stars.


It was only another mission, just one of many. If he were going to be honest, Kirk would have had to say that this time hadn't even been the most dangerous thing he'd ever done while under the banner of the Knights. And he was sure he would face greater dangers in the future. So long as he kept his nerve, which he feared was slowly slipping from him. He felt he hadn't contributed to the battle at all; he'd hesitated, frozen in his tracks by fear, he just barely evaded the first bombardment of the Gezidian's fists. He also feared his captain noticed his faltering, almost expected it. His mind was alive with doubts. He found no solace in staring at the stars either, and only found emptiness in the shadowy expanses of deep space. He brought his mug to his lips, trying to drown his worries in the ale. He avoided the gaze of Vence as if he'd catch the plague from it, as if his souls would be pulled out for his slackness. Kirk's hands trembled, fearing not only relief from duty, but also ridicule. He feared the insults he'd receive if the Order decided his time in the Knights was concluded, for this was only one of his building number of slips, and he fretted thinking that the end of his Knighthood was drawing near. For now, he buried himself under alcoholic influence, and when his drinking was concluded, he silently slipped out, marching to his room in defeat, even as his brothers sang songs of victory.

He felt feverish as he tried to sleep: he'd neglected to inform anyone that he'd been clipped by those horrid scales of that monster, a pretty ugly wound to his right arm. His head felt heavy, and the ale didn't aid him in the least. As he finally drifted to sleep, he dreamed, mostly of his failings. Tossing and turning, he was fighting his conscience whilst he still slumbered. Unseen by him, his blood flowed, black as the abyss, from his arm. It rolled from his skin, onto his bed and down the sheets, leaving no stains as it flowed and hit the floor. Bubbles erupted and burst from the liquid's surface, and it began to slither across the floor. It sensed life all throughout this strange vessel. It hungered, too, hungered for sentience, for knowledge. But most of all, it hungered for Death, to spread it like a virus, and to obtain knowledge of the workings of the world through Death, and how better to extinguish life. Oh yes, it hungered, and wouldn't be stopped until it was satiated.

And the hunger was endless.


(Afterthought: If you wish to voice your opinion of this piece, then by all means, feel free. Again, this little bit isn't as detailed or elaborate as my other works, especially as far as character design is concerned, which is usually a big deal for me. I don't know if I want to expand upon this idea or just leave it where it lays, as an obscure and pretty bland (in my opinion) bit of prose. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the read, and if not, I understand. It's not my best, so I won't take offense if you tell me you hated it. Haha.)

[VindicatedPurpose]

This is a very interesting piece. It came to my realization that these guys were space knights and this was a science-fiction fantasy mash up. An eccentric combination, I'll admit, but it was an entertaining read. Even if this was a spur of the moment piece, it was well-written, and shouldn't be brushed aside. The potential is present.

Overall interesting, I enjoyed reading it. Thanks for sharing.