Pride of the Wardens
If this is the afterlife, it kind of sucks.
The alleyway I'm in right now certainly doesn't feel like heaven at least. The walls are made of cracked stone bricks, with moss peeking through the holes. Blood is slathered on the walls, and roars ring through the cobbled streets of this city.
'What's it called again?' Looking for the note in my pocket, I realize that my clothes are completely different. my coat is long, and reaches to the back of my boots. A faded symbol is on the breast of the coat, depicting a spider-like being standing on it's hind legs and holding a spear to support itself.
Another loud roar rings from the left side of the alleyway exit. Creeping up to the side of the wall to take a look, I can see an axe on the wall. Rust covers the head, but it's unusually long and looks useful enough to warrant the risk.
I pop out from my cover, snatch the axe and quickly look from left to right to assure my safety. The axe is fairly light, with the head being the only exception. No beasts are visible from the center of the street, and the buildings are all in the same state of disrepair as the alleyway.
In contrast, a pristine church lies at the end of a long street. Stained glass windows and tracery lay unharmed by whatever befell this town. The church is accompanied by a gargantuan clock tower to its right. The clock was at 12, exactly. The moon was visible behind the tower, and I would've said it looked orange if I didn't know better.
I stood entranced by the clock towers size for a few minutes, until I realized the hand isn't moving. For the past few minutes, the small hand had been stuck on XII, and hadn't moved.
Trying to ignore the implications that presented, I started walking briskly toward the lightly glowing church. The city was filled with alleyways and 3 floor residences that all appeared to be uninhabited and overall, felt very foreboding and eerie.
Picking up the pace, I started lightly jogging towards the church. Before I reached the cathedral stairs, a throaty growl was heard from my left. A beastly figure leapt out at me, but instead of the dog I had encountered at the clinic, a man with bloodshot eyes and a pale complexion was the culprit. I stepped back, and the man slowly got up and drew a flintlock from his torn coat and tried to shoot me.
Luckily for me, he hadn't loaded it properly. I grasped my axe in both hands and raised it above my head. But before I swung, it let out a pathetic growl, almost like a whimper. My arms sagged and in my indecision and pity the man capitalized on my mistake.
It freed a slender dagger from the opposite side of its coat and leapt towards me with it primed to plunge in my chest. No longer hindered by my inaction, I swung down my axe and split its head in half. I ripped my axe out of the man's head and fell to my knees. Not from exhaustion, but from the overwhelming sense of guilt I felt for what I had done. Flipping the man over, I looked upon his deformed face in pity.
I pushed myself onto my feet, and carefully trudged myself up to the church steps. Quiet voices could be heard from inside the church, and I crept up to the ornate door. The door was decorated with glasswork showing a collection of symbols, looking like a runic language of some sort.
I listened for a few more minutes, but I couldn't quite make out the words of whoever was inside. After some internal debate, I overcame my anxiety and lightly knocked on the door.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Come in" A raspy voice invited. I creaked open the door, and was met with a rustic but lavish lounge. Seats were decorated with velvet and the rugs were decorated with exquisite patterns all across the massive room.
But on the left side of the room a man sat on a rug. He was wearing a red cloak, with an over sized hood covering his face. His arms were slender and remarkably pale.
"Come, Good Warden, sit with me. Pull up a chair if you wish". I kept an eye on the suspicious man as I lifted a chair and turned it towards him, making sure to keep myself a safe distance from him.
"I should've known you would be scared, rather dangerous out tonight. But have no fear! I am but an old man, trying to make my way through this twisted world". The man let out a cough, and took a minute to catch his breath. "Come on then, I've been talking to myself for long enough. Why have you come to the Warden's Cathedral?"
"Warden's Cathedral?" My voice cracked slightly as it left my throat, not many people to talk to here after all.
"You've been here quite a bit, haven't you? You are a warden after all". The man seemed to think he was a "Warden" Whatever that means.
"I'm sorry, but I don't believe I am a Warden sir". The man scoffed at my words, and cleared his throat to speak again.
"What are you then? If you aren't a Warden, then why are you here?" The man said in a knowing tone. To be honest, I'm not sure why I'm here either. But no way in hell I'm going to let him know that.
"Let's say I am a Warden, what does that entail?" The man shifted in his seat a little bit, and cleared his throat once again.
"Look around you, for Lorian's sake. What do you think a Warden is supposed to do?" I could hear the cocky smirk on the old mans face, without even having seen it.
"So, how do you expect me to kill all of those beasts?" The old man slowly clapped at my realization.
"You'll figure it out as you go along, I suppose. You must have realized your predicament by now". The old man let out a dry cackle at my confusion
"You can't die yet silly! The clock will never strike one, unless you make it". The old man let out another dark chuckle.
"Those beasts on the streets? They sat there too boy. You aren't any different from those poor men and women". The monster lifted up his hood, to reveal the face of the spiderlike figure on his uniform.
"This world is a prison, and you are the Warden. Go on then, bring justice to your prisoners, or you will end up the very same". The monster laughed hysterically, and slowly faded away to nonexistence.
Left in the room alone, The Good Warden slouched back in his chair, just another burden placed upon his weary shoulders.