The smell of decay hung heavy in the air inside of the Mullonde Cathedral sanctuary. The cold stone room was dark, illuminated only by the candles around the altar. Ramza charged forward into the room, eager to face down his foe and rescue Alma from his clutches. With his army of loyal allies behind him, he felt confident about facing whatever horrors the Lucavi-bearers called forth.
“I fear I’ve no more time to waste on you,” the man standing behind the altar called out to him. “Would that I could bid you farewell here, but I suspect you’d not part ways so easily. I suppose you must be returned to the Father after all. My thralls will delight to guide you to His keeping. This sanctuary even holds a sarcophagus. It’s as though Fate lends her hand.”
The man held forth his hand, and a golden light began to glow bright in the room, blinding those within for a moment. An Archaeodaemon stood where the light had flared. A second flash on the other side of the sarcophagus produced a second archaeodaemon. A third summoned forth an Ultima Demon.
But Folmarv did not stop there. With a disdainful look at Ramza and his allies, he spoke again.
“Of course, death is sooner served by steel. I shall let this one be your foeman as well.”
A fourth pillar of light appeared, and as it faded, a kneeling form came into view. It stood, looking sickly pale and withered. It was plain to see that this was a corpse walking.
“Zalbaag!” Ramza cried out, confusion evident. He had not thought he would look upon his brother ever again. But this was no happy reunion, not with Formarv pulling the puppet strings.
Formarv snorted at that outburst. “Once he was your brother, but he is reborn unto us now. You’re a heretic already. Why not a kinslayer?” The Templar chuckled at that, amused at the anguish on Ramza’s face as he looked into familiar eyes that no longer recognized him.
With the scene set to his satisfaction, Formarv raised his hands and cast the spell to teleport himself safely away.
“Ever the coward!” Ramza hissed at his retreat.
Formarv’s voice rang out from beyond the sanctuary, echoing against the stone walls. “Zalbaag! Deliver me the head of the young man before you! He must not leave the cathedral alive!”
There was a groan from something monstrous following his words, marking the speaker as no longer human. And then, for a moment, silence.
And then the demons shifted in the darkness, stepping forward to slaughter whoever they came into contact with.
Ramza's Memory
“I fear I’ve no more time to waste on you,” the man standing behind the altar called out to him. “Would that I could bid you farewell here, but I suspect you’d not part ways so easily. I suppose you must be returned to the Father after all. My thralls will delight to guide you to His keeping. This sanctuary even holds a sarcophagus. It’s as though Fate lends her hand.”
The man held forth his hand, and a golden light began to glow bright in the room, blinding those within for a moment. An Archaeodaemon stood where the light had flared. A second flash on the other side of the sarcophagus produced a second archaeodaemon. A third summoned forth an Ultima Demon.
But Folmarv did not stop there. With a disdainful look at Ramza and his allies, he spoke again.
“Of course, death is sooner served by steel. I shall let this one be your foeman as well.”
A fourth pillar of light appeared, and as it faded, a kneeling form came into view. It stood, looking sickly pale and withered. It was plain to see that this was a corpse walking.
“Zalbaag!” Ramza cried out, confusion evident. He had not thought he would look upon his brother ever again. But this was no happy reunion, not with Formarv pulling the puppet strings.
Formarv snorted at that outburst. “Once he was your brother, but he is reborn unto us now. You’re a heretic already. Why not a kinslayer?” The Templar chuckled at that, amused at the anguish on Ramza’s face as he looked into familiar eyes that no longer recognized him.
With the scene set to his satisfaction, Formarv raised his hands and cast the spell to teleport himself safely away.
“Ever the coward!” Ramza hissed at his retreat.
Formarv’s voice rang out from beyond the sanctuary, echoing against the stone walls. “Zalbaag! Deliver me the head of the young man before you! He must not leave the cathedral alive!”
There was a groan from something monstrous following his words, marking the speaker as no longer human. And then, for a moment, silence.
And then the demons shifted in the darkness, stepping forward to slaughter whoever they came into contact with.