In the final battle of Ironfall, the swords of the Mayor and King clash atop the highest tower. Battles untold have led to this moment. Even now, in the sea beyond the horizon, the Tempersian fleet lays in wait for the signal. Hand to hand combat below roars as enemy artillery explodes on the walls, attempting to take the tower down before the Beacon can be lit, summoning the fleet and spelling doom for the city.
No words are spoken between the mortal enemies. The dead litter the rooftop, and the Mayor forces the King to the edge of the tower's rubble of battlements. A flight of arrows flits past as the King swings the Mayor around as well. They struggle for a brief moment, their swords forgotten, too close to swing. The King sweeps the Mayor's feet out from under him, stumbling on a rock. The Mayor plummets, taking the King with him. They drop like a stone towards the combat below. And then...
They are halted, and the giant visage of the Wizard appears, hovering over Ironfall.
He sneers. Having disappeared four months ago, he was assumed dead, and looks much the worse for wear. A fresh scar skips down his face on a side as he glares at the pair, arrested in midair. "You two never knew when to let well enough alone, did you?" his voice booms out across the midday sky. "Well, let me show you a trick."
His size grows double as he thrusts out his hands. Off on the horizon, a giant wave of water erupts, decimating the fleet. It rushes towards the coast, swamping homes on the edge of the sea as it comes forward. Towards the sun, he waves, and it slowly begins to move... spinning faster... until it is a blur across the sky, and a band of light blazes at the level of dawn.
He chuckles. "Ssss." Another wave of his hand, as his ropes flap around his bony ankles. Over towards the west, the city of Tempersia rises through the air, towers and battlements shattering and plummeting towards the groud below as it is ripped from the living earth, encased in a shimmering orb. An explosion sounds in the crater, sounding louder. The King and Mayor look up as the Moon itself begins to descend towards them, darkening the sunband.
"I'm tired of you," shouts the Wizard, over the sounds crashing throughout the land as darkness and the Moon descends. "It is time to recreate this world- in my image! Ahahahahaha!" Orbs, containing the wonders of Briktopia, begin to rise behind him and as far as the eye can see. The warriors below, their combat halted, drop their weapons in shock as the ground shudders. A shield encases the city as it begins to rise. The Moon is noticeably louder, and all can hear the growing sound of recurrent explosions as the ground erupts below. The Wizard grins, his face swelling to enormous proportions as a single eye flicks between the King's and the Mayor's. "And the world ends, with you in a snowglobe of my own design-"
He cuts off his sentence as a blaze of light pierces the shield and buries itself in his chest. The King and Mayor look down, as The Rogue draws another bolt to his chest. "Begone, spirit," he says, his voice carrying clear as a bell. "You are no Wizard, and we shall have none to do with you." He grins slightly, taking aim. Buildings crash around him and he seems untouched, as the Wizard's rage fails to reach him. Another bolt pierces the orb and the giant's eye. He roars in pain, and the darkness around him begins to swirl, the creations of the Age of Empires in their cages clustering together. "You mortal," he bellows, sending all but the Rogue to their knees, clutching their ears. "You cannot challenge me!" "Try me," says the Rogue, his smirk undiminished.
The final arrow is drawn to his chest, and a blaze of light and color surrounds it as the Rogue spins, releasing it. It flies, straight and true, to pierce the Tower and the crystal within.
The light, stuttering beyond the Moon, stops, and begins to grow.
The Wizard, his eyes rolling up in his head, diminishes and shrinks rapidly, disappearing as the orbs begin to fall.
You pick yourself up and look around at an unfamiliar landscape. Witness to the final battle? No matter. Your enemies and allies lay around you, picking themselves up in a disorderly manner. The Mayor and the King are drawn up in the sand, staring at the remnants of the Crystal, former beacon of power and signal of the wealth of Ironfall, now half-buried in sand and cracked in half. A sibilant tone echoes from it as the arrow disappears, the sun overhead blazing forth with vigor.
The King looks about for his finely crafted sword of the highest caliber. It is nowhere to be seen. He sighs, removing his crown, and looks at the Mayor. "Was it a dream?" The Mayor shakes his head. "Nay, I would say not. Too vivid... too... real." They stare at the crystal, then the King looks up again. "Where is the Rogue? I did not realize he had such power." "I didn't realize either, but now it appears it is too late. He has vanished yet again." The Mayor regards the King's face, and a smile twists onto his lips. "He always did say he'd get the both of us eventually though." The King laughs. "That he did." Rising to his feet, he prooffers a hand to the Mayor. "It appears that we are stranded, with nothing more than what we had before or less. Shall we decide on peace?" The Mayor lets the King help him up, saying, "Aye, peace is preferable at the moment. We must gather power again on the chance that the Wizard is not, in fact defeated. And to do that, it looks like it's time for..."
He looks about at the gathered warriors and the unblemished land beyond.
Hehehe, that got way longer than I intended. Woo, fanfiction!