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Date Posted: 12:56:55 12/01/99 Wed
Author: Borg
Subject: What remains of noble blood...


Long before the commotion
he had known about
a soul that lost it's body.
He approach slowly.
The King look puzzled
left out.
Such a crowd
but nobody saw him,
heard him.
He didn't even know
he's dead.
"You...", Borg break the silence.
The King turn to him
relieved to find somebody
he can talk to.
But Borg is not there
to talk.
"This way...", He signal the King to follow
And together they walk
to where the killing
too place.
"Take a long good look at him..."
It was such a joy for Borg
to see the colours in the King's face
change and fade away
like clouds in heavy wind.
"You...", Borg lean to him... sneering
"Are dead."
"Then who... who..."
"Does a name Troy DeVega mean anything to you ?"
Borg ignored his confusion and fear.
The King's eyes move
wildly almost to all direction
as if they're searching
for the name is so familiar
but he can't remember
who or why.
"I suppose not..."
Borg cut off his attempt coldly.
In a mocking tone.
Well he just can't help it.
For the legend just so ironically
NOT funny.
How come a direct descendant
of a warrior who not only
defeated but also driven
the devil himself away from the world
be in the mercy of a demon like himself ?
Where is the power ?
Where is the purity ?
Where's God ?
"Who are you ?"
The King seemed start to accept
the way things were managed to
spit the question out...
"I'm Borg."
Borg's eyes pierce right through The Kings.
"And you're not going to heaven"
"You're coming with me."
Sick and tired of all the intimidation
no soul ever got the nerve to do to him
in his life, The King rebel...
"Like Hell I'm coming with you..."
To his surprise... the smug stranger laugh...
"Like hell it is..."
Watching how the King prepare to fight...
Borg decide he had enough.
"This..."
He's closing in to him... eyes fix on the king's.
"Is..."
The King strike him like a knight.
But all those strength are wasted on thin air.
His target vanished like a dream.
His instinct tell him to turn but it's too late...
An arm... hard like the root
of a thousand years old tree
slide and strangle him... tighter and tighter...
"Not an option..." Borg's whipser in his ear like a father tucking his only son to sleep...
The Kings gasping and twitching to ease the pain.
"Don't worry..."
"I can't kill you..."
"You're dead, remember ?"
"All I can do is..."
Borg stop tightening his strangle.
But the King is experiencing a terror
more than any other terror he ever
encounter... even in his nightmare.
"Keep the pain alive..."
The hand around his neck
is gradually burning hot !!
Red hot.
So he scream... like a cow
slaughtered traditionally.
"Now...
will you or will you not...
come with me ?"
"YES.. Yessarghhhh !!!.. I'll come... I'll come..."
"Wise..." Borg release The Poor King.
And start to walk.
Master's gonna love this.
This.. this...
what remains of a noble blood line...
They both vanished behind the mist of the forest
leaving the crowd
bound by a wicked fate
behind...


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