“So you are
leaving now?” asks Sorbar Tris, but despite phrasing his words as a question,
they come out more as a statement.
“Yes,” replies
Nirea, as she hefts her bag onto her shoulder, “Are you sure you don’t want to
come with us?”
“Yes,” says Sorbar with a weary, humourless smile. This is far from the first time they had this conversation or a variant of it.
It has been three and a half years since Nirea, Giarth and Korica began their training under him. And in that time, he has grown to see them as own children just as he has with Sarkira.
Actively working towards a desirable and achievable goal has been good for Sorbar. He has had the motivation to do his best for the first time in at least a century and that has shown through his actions. Not only has he trained the kids, but he expanded his home into a full-fledged training camp.
Furthermore, he has even crafted items, armour and weapons for the kids so that they will have a chance against the Antera. Combined with the skills and knowledge that Sorbar have given them, they should have a decent chance. The very least they won’t get utterly crushed when they attract the attention of one of the Antera.
Sorbar would like to help them gain a fighting chance against their foes, but the Antera are gods and not even he has the raw power to match a member of the Antera in a straight up fight. No one does. Not in this day and age.
No, that isn’t true. Anthea could match anyone of the Antera. And outclass all, but the strongest of them.
“Goodbye,” says Sarkira as she gives Sorbar a hug and he embraces his daughter in return.
Despite having spent for as long as she can remember up here, the Jorman girl is going to aid her Lari siblings. Leaving Sorbar all alone in these mountains once again.
“Good luck darling,” replies Sorbar as he kisses her on the forehead, “Good luck all of you.”
“Yeah, we’ll need it,” Korica agrees solemnly.
The last of the goodbyes don’t take long, a few hugs and words exchanged before Sorbar’s four children set off on their journey.
Sorbar’s face is passive as he watches them head down the path. Perhaps he should have given them Ang’Jun. They will need every advantage they can get, but Sorbar couldn’t bring himself to part with his Linx Sword. It is his most prized procession.
Time for one last set of words for his kids.
“My son and daughters!” says Sorbar, amplifying his voice so echoes throughout the mountain and the four kids look back up at him, “No matter what threats you face or what foes may be hunting you, you can always find sanctuary here! Even if the entire might of the Antera is bearing down on you!”
***
Two years. Two entire years. Two entire years ago on his day, his children set out on their quest to bring the Antera to justice.
And every single day, Sorbar Tris has worried about them. None are dead or worse as he has his systems set up to alert him if any such things had occurred.
But the old man is restless. With his children out there, Sorbar just can’t relax and enjoy his life of solitude as he used to. His thoughts keep straying to what trouble might be befalling his children.
He spent three centuries being the hero and it got him nowhere. But for all the trouble he got into and all the hell he had to go through, Sorbar has never regretted those days. Even he complains and grumbles about them all the time, not once has he truly lamented the time he spend as a hero.
Perhaps the time for him to be the hero has come once again. The kids are out there fighting the Antera and they could use his help. He did kill Oorkbine back when he wasn’t even a proper adult yet. And Sorbar has not once feared dying fighting the good fight and that has yet to change.
With a weary sigh, Sorbar picks up Ang’Jun and decides to get his old set of power armour of storage.
As he thinks back to his glory days, Sorbar lets a genuine smile form on his face for the first time in two years.
***
Clad in a black skin-tight suit and green plate power armour, Sorbar keeps his hand on the hilt of Ang’Jun, ready to draw his weapon at moment’s notice as he waits crouched on the ridge overlooking the besieged city.
The citadel-city of Eth Pandor lies within his sight. With an impressive citadel dating back to long before the Antera at its centre, there are several layers of defensive walls and strategically placed bastions throughout the city, giving Eth Pandor a well-deserved reputation as an impenetrable fortress.
Normally a glorious sight to behold, the magnificent city is under siege by the forces of Vrondrunt and Otholfrox surrounding Eth Pandor.
The main uprising is holed up within the walls of Eth Pandor and while his children are not the leaders of the uprising, they do command its warriors and soldiers.
And a fine job they have done so. They have won almost every battle that they have fought and have easily outmanoeuvred their Anteran opponents when it comes to strategy.
Calio was always about theory anyway, muses Sorbar, they always relied upon me to fight our battles when it came down to it.
Disciples of Beast and Undeath harry the outer wall with their Apostles hanging back, ready for a breach in the defences before committing their considerable might.
A breach that is about to be created by the raw, unadulterated power of Vrondrunt as the god prepares to smash a hole in the fortifications of the defenders.
Sorbar’s children have done well, but ultimately, the might of the Antera was too much for mortals like them to overcome and the Fall of Eth Pandor could easily end up being the last stand for the uprising and the death of his children.
Fortunate shines on Sorbar for he picked a very good time to return to the fray.
“System Go,” whispers Sorbar as Vrondrunt gathers up his power.
Accessing his Cyber-World, Sorbar mentally places several shield generators in the shadow dimension of his world, positioning them so they will form a barrier between Vrondrunt and Eth Pandor.
“Power On, Device Activate,” continues Sorbar, powering and activating the shield generators as Vrondrunt fires.
As the misty bolt of black magic soars through the air towards Eth Pandor, a circular shield of white-green energy forms in its path at the last moment possible. The black magic bolt slams into the green energy shield and there is a near blinding flash of light as the bolt struggles against the shield.
But despite Vrondrunt’s might, the shield prevails for Deltaen technology does not fail easily. Other than two shield generators getting close to overheating, Sorbar and the defenders of Eth Pandor is no worse for wear after Vrondrunt’s attack then they were before it.
“Greetings!” says Sorbar in a calm, collected and very confident voice as he stands up to his full height, amplifying his voice so that everyone will hear him, “Sveif! Tiof! I have a bone to pick with you two!”
There is total silence as attacker and defender alike turn and stare at Sorbar. In particular, Otholfrox and Vrondrunt are dumbfounded as they gawk at the old hero.
Vrondrunt and Otholfrox look the same as Sorbar remembers them. Otholfrox is a large, hairy wolf-man with bulging muscles, blood-red eyes and no clothes. Fortunately, thick black fur covers his entire body so nothing too disgusting is visible.
Vrondrunt is a tall, thin man with black robes. His skin is a deathly pale whilst his eyes are pure black. His black hair is slick and combed back so it stick close to his scalp.
The two Anteran gods are a far sight from the two blonde, handsome wizards that Sorbar once worked with.
“Sorbar Tris,” growls Otholfrox, recovering before his brother does.
“In the flesh,” replies Sorbar as inclines his head in acknowledgement.
“What are you doing here?” demands Otholfrox.
“Fighting the good fight,” answers Sorbar, “Saving people, slaying evil and killing the Antera. Basically the same stuff I used to do back in the day”
“You think you stand against us?” hisses Vrondrunt as he recovers from his shock, “That you dare to have a chance of defeating us?”
“Oorkbine expressed the same opinions as you do now,” replies Sorbar as he draws Ang’Jun from its sheath.
“But he was only one,” rumbles another voice, one that Sorbar recognises as belong to Ulsorgrok, the King of the Antera, “And you face the entire might of the Antera.”
Sorbar looks around as several other members of the Antera come into existence around Vrondrunt and Otholfrox, no doubt drawn by his unexpected and completely unforeseen presence.
There is Ulsorgrok, God of the World and King of the Antera, of course, but there is also Anketa, Goddess of War, Elgos, God of Crime, Yorranx, Goddess of Slavery and Ryocton, God of Deceit.
“Not the entire might,” replies Sorbar unperturbed by the forces amassed against to him, “Exula and Izlox aren’t here. Neither is Anthea, which is fortunate for you.”
“You are not taking this seriously,” rumbles Ulsorgrok.
“Not particularly,” agrees Sorbar nonchalantly, “Oh, I will once the fighting starts, but not while we are still talking.”
“You seem to have his disillusion that that will be a fight instead of you just getting crushed,” snarls Anketa.
“I am a Knight of Deltae,” declares Sorbar as he prepares his Cyber-World for war.
“Then you shall die!” roars Anketa as she charges at him, summoning a weapon in each hand.
“Perhaps I
shall,” agrees Sorbar as he readies Ang’Jun, “Just I shall die as a hero.
System Go!”
