The Okob Imperium, the Six Towers, and the Marble Horses

1st Day – The Neverending War & The Old Man

The Okob Imperium could not be defeated. It had stood for as long as the people could remember.

The old gaunt man stood looking upon the Six Towers that comprised the capital city of the Okob Imperium. There were three walls circling the capital. The walls had never been breached. There were 11 Gates scattered along the three walls. Each Gate was well guarded and fortified with special metal alloys blessed by the spells of the grand magicians of the six towers.

The old man thought back to what his father had said when he had set out on his journey.

The Okob Imperium cannot be defeated.

It had taken the old man 17 years to build up his army of free men and women. His father and brothers weren’t part of it – he suspected even 100 years wouldn’t be enough to convince them his war was winnable.

The old man turned back towards his army and spoke. The words flowed out with the weariness of age and the magic of hope. His blind faith and charisma turning them into sounds more melodious than the songs of angels.

His soldiers had been ravenous – the days of marching and adrenaline setting them on edge. His words stoked the fires in their hearts. The old man looked upon them one last time and then gave the command.

The army rushed forward, pouring upon the capital like the darkness of eternal night.

227th Day – The Neverending War & The Decision

The meeting of the Grand Wizards had been hastily arranged. Two of the walls were down. The gates of the third wall were at breaking point.

How long would one solitary wall protect the six towers?

The Imperium Council sat behind their ornate desk. The five of them resplendent in robes built upon the blood of millions of peasants.

There’s no other way. We have called upon the Dark Wizardesses. The Marble Horses have been readied.

A shudder passed through the hearts of the Grand Wizards. They were as children in front of the Dark Wizardesses. They had given up something, perhaps their souls, for powers that exceeded the imagination. The Dark Ones would win them the Neverending War … but at what price?

We have no other choice. We have no other choice at all.

253rd Day of Battle – The Neverending War & The Marble Horses

The old man had just lopped off the head of an Imperium Soldier. The third wall was there for the taking. Its southern gate was beginning to crack.

A slow smile flitted across the old man’s face. The Neverending War was about to end. As the old man envisioned what it would feel like to tear down the Towers, a screech pierced the air and stilled the fighting.

Soldiers from both sides stopped and looked back towards the outer fields. There were 7 great marble horses there. The Old Man had tested them – they were all solid marble. No seams. No surprises.

Nothing for a few moments. Then the marble horses shook themselves.

The giant marble horses had come alive. The old man crossed himself. What manner of cursed magic was this?

The ground around the marble horses began to move. Ghastly dark soldiers dug their way out of the ground and stood by the marble horses. Then, without warning, the marble horses and the dark soldiers started rushing towards the battlefield.

578th Day of Battle – The Neverending War & The Horn

Two of the marble horses still stood. Thousands of the dark soldiers were still fighting. The Imperium had hardly any soldiers left. The old man’s army was almost gone.

The old man stood by the southern gate, which still stood. His army was surrounded on all sides and defeat crept ever closer.

This is what it had come down to. The Six Towers and the Imperium would win. The old man felt the last gasp of hope leave his body as one of the remaining Marble Horses brushed aside his guards and approached him.

Then a horn sounded.

The Old Man looked towards the South. Everything stood still for him. The Marble Horse stopped … taken aback by the change in the old man’s eyes.

The horn sounded again.

The old man looked more carefully. A dark line was forming in the South. It grew from something amorphous into a line of people. It stretched as far as his eye could see. He smiled. The people. The idiots. What could they do against dark soldiers and Grand Wizards? Yet he smiled wider.

They could not stand against the swords and shields of the Imperium. They could do nothing against the Dark Soldiers. If his army, trained painstakingly and equipped magnificently, had lost – what hope did some peasants have?

Then he saw the second line. Then the third. Then the fourth. Slowly despair crept into his soul. It would be a massacre. The peasants could not hope to take on the Imperium and survive. Yet, the never ending lines of peasants and villagers kept marching forward.

The End of the Neverending War

The old man’s army, the little of it that remained, the dark soldiers, the last two marble horses, and the few remaining Imperium soldiers – all stood and looked upon the endless rows of peasants.

The first line stopped 80 paces from the edge of the battle. 4 young girls stepped out of the first line. They were dressed in black, faces painted white. The mark of the angels were carved into their dresses.

The old man thought back to the legends and shivered. Surely, those were old wives’ tales.

The girls raised their hands and started chanting. Lighting bolts started raining out of the sky.

The old man knelt down and wept. He had lost. Yet, the Six Towers would be defeated. He looked back as the southern gate cracked and fell. Then cries rang out and the endless lines of peasants rushed towards the Towers.

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