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(I was reading a few of the League Judgments, and thought Id make one, just for fun. If this is affiliated in a contest somehow, I apologize. This was just meant as a brief little writing.)
The ground shakes with the heavy tread of bronze footsteps. The stride belies several conflicting emotions and feelings, fortitude and desperation, determination and hopelessness. It has no rhythm, no measured step. It is only the tread a of a tired, wistful soul, a being whos sympathies and worries have been flayed away, all thought being pressed in to a single desire. It is a Titan of the Depths, once a person, now nothing more than a collection of heavy, rusted armor, consumed by rage.
It continues its long march, a march that had begun in the inky blackness of the sea, and had not stopped since. Armored boots strike the metal, the dirt, the sand. The being does not focus on such matters, for the terrain has always shifted on his long travel. It takes no notice of the change in scenery, as the blue of water becomes the green of forest, which in turn becomes the hard stone of a long hall. The simple, all consuming rage that is the Titan only cares to notice a brief inscription above a tall brass door;
The truest opponent lies within.
The small scrap of understanding within the bulky creature screams in agony as it recognizes the truth of the words, before being overwhelmed by the hatred that fuels the being. Without stopping, it walks in to the door, forcing it open simply by refusing to halt. With a soft sigh, the creature enters through the doorway.
Immediately, the Titan feels itself dropping, as its heavy armor carries it to the bottom of the ocean floor. Its metal hands claw at its guarded throat, as water invades its lungs. For a moment, the rage of the being gives way to fear, as it realizes that no one will save it. Its red, spotlight eyes close and reopen, giving way to eyes of brightest green. The armor seems to become heavier, as the creature feels its body becoming what it once was. Human limbs now fill the bulky diving suit, flailing weakly as the ocean crushes down upon them.
Suddenly, the weight is lifted. Black tendrils, neither solid, liquid, nor gas, press around the man, encasing him and protecting him from the sea. At first afraid, the man soon realizes what the tendrils are doing, and surrenders as the embrace him, taking him over, and changing him in to the creature he knows himself to be. The Titan stands, red eyes blazing once again, metal feet planted firmly in the sand.
Its fingers brush a familiar object, and the being grabs the shaft of the anchor. Its eyes travel upwards, following the chain, the red orbs narrowing as it recognizes the ship the anchor is attached to. With a roar of rage, it tears the anchor away, gathering the chain and hurling the iron object in to the side of the ship. With a strength born of vengeance, the creature hauls in the chains length, watching as the ship eventually gives way, sinking toward the Titan.
The being watches as the ship collapses in to the sand floor, sending plumes of brown silt in to the depths. Already, the creature is moving, marching for the deck of the ship, where it knows revenge will be taken. However, as it reaches its destination, all that is there is a robed figure, seemingly unperturbed by the swirling water. Without removing its hood, the figure looks toward the Titan and asks;
Why do you wish to join the League, Archtev?
The being pauses as it recognizes its former name, the name of a man long dead. With trembling fingers, it releases its grip on the metal chain, collapsing as memories of its former life come rushing back to it. The ship, the sailors, his captain, the tendrils the betrayal. Betrayal.
The Titan stands suddenly, taking hold of the chain and whipping the anchor toward the ship, destroying every plank, every scrap of wood and metal. Its anchor is a vengeful strike, crashing down on the very memory it wishes to be rid of. Finally, after a moment, the Titan stops, glaring at the hooded man who had simply stood by while the destruction had happened. The creature spoke, then, its voice the terrible black of the abyss.
My name is Nautilus, it says simply, bringing the anchor to rest upon its immense shoulders.
The hooded figure simply nods, saying, How does it feel, exposing your mind?
The creature takes a shaking breath, before saying, in a quiet, weak voice, Terrible.
After this has been said, the sand seems to rush up, and the water seems to recede, until the Titan stands upon a simple wooden floor, not unlike the deck of a sailing ship. In front of the being, a tall doorway swings open, and Nautilus, the Titan of the Depths, enters, its anchors chain swinging back and forth as it marches.