Haha, I suck. I'm so sorry, but here, at last, is the finale to Strength of a Thousand Men- or, at least, the first part. Stay tuned for the end of the week(promise!) where everything will come to a close.

For those that want to view the story in a different medium, click the link here:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/.....it?usp=sharing

<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>

Art ©  eda
Story © Moi
All characters © Their owners

---

Strength of a Thousand Men: The End, Part I
Renard De Fleureaux III


Storm clouds over Virtus. Roland could see it. Something had been untapped in him; a sense beyond sight, sound, or instinct. He could feel the strength, the sheer energy and willpower, of those tied to the Dominion; and their strength was being drained. He knew who was responsible; Edathan. That capricious, ancient god thought long gone, and now come back to life to claim domination of the empire that had the gall to claim the inheritance of Remera, the land that had once worshipped him and his brothers. Edathan considered the Palamani usurpers and thieves; savages that had taken strength that was his to give. And now, he had returned, and was coming to collect.

Only Roland stood in his way.

The souls of seven Imperators were powering his monumental body; watching him storm across the plains and valleys of the Dominion’s heartland was like watching an advancing avalanche; a great, churning mass of pure white, with a flowing mane of blue and gold. His colossal legs left hoof prints deep in the ground, with bulging thighs rolling off one another and pounding into the ground like hammer strikes. His arms were engorged with enough muscle to grind against his chest, pecs larger than a shield wall heaving up and down as his biceps swelled to the size of boulders. The unicorn’s back was a sea of rock-hard flesh, waves of rippling muscle swarming down his spine as he pounded across the land.

Only Nyst could keep up with him; the dragon, his body corrupted and engorged by Edathan, was so overwhelmed by his own muscle, his back so large, that he was hunched to the ground, all four of his meaty limbs digging into the ground.

The adherents of the new God of the Strong were carried on the unicorn and dragon’s strong backs. Nocturne clung to Nyst’s heaving lats while Claudia wrapped her heavy arms around Roland’s head; there wasn’t any neck left on the beast to speak of. Renard, still a shriveled husk, was gingerly cradled in Roland’s hands. The group had travelled without stopping; they couldn’t afford any lost time, and Roland had the strength to keep going.

Unfortunately, Nyst did not. Even as powerful as the dragon was, he was still mortal. He still had limits, and crossing half a continent was definitely something that would push those limits. Roland had to hone his new godly powers, and was feeding the dragon strength and energy to complete their long trek.

“You can’t just give your power away like this,” a voice in Roland’s mind echoed. It was Dominus; one of the seven Imperator souls in his gigantic body.

“Aren’t I supposed to be immortal and unlimited?” Roland muttered angrily back.

“In time, Candar, in time! Your power needs time to grow infinite. You would be so much stronger if you weren’t carrying the burden of so many weak mortals…”

“They’re not burdens, they’re my friends.” Roland growled back.

“Friends who can offer you no help against a god like Edathan.”

Roland snorted, refusing to reply.

“What do you keep muttering to yourself?” Claudia demanded.

“You know, you’re not terribly devout towards your new god, are you? Haven’t you and the rest of the Dominion been waiting ages for me?” Roland shot back.

“I don’t have time to pray and kowtow. Not when we’ve got a dark god to take down. You kill Edathan and show this body isn’t for show,” she protested, hitting his rock-hard shoulder, “I’ll be the first to lead sermons in the Temple of the Strong.”

“Hmph.”

“And…” Claudia’s voice was suddenly softer. “...if you can do something to fix Renard.”

“I’m still not sure how to do that…” Roland looked down at the bone-thin creature in his hands, who had once been the mighty Consul of the Dominion. “But I promise. I’ll do it.”

“Promises are easy to make. Breaking them is even easier.” Claudia replied curtly.

Roland knickered. “Are all my new worshippers going to be like you?”

“We’ve been waiting a long time for you; that tends to build up high expectations.”

“Are we going to see Virtus soon?” Nocturne called up to the unicorn, his face plastered against the dragon’s bulging back.

“We’re ready to fight, friend. We’re strong enough for it!” Nyst rumbled.

“Just keep moving.” Roland said, his face set. “We’re not going to get there faster by talking.” He had a heavy frown etched on his face; Dominus was already voicing his protests.


The sun had not shone on Virtus in days. Dark, unnatural clouds hung over the mountains that Virtus was carved into, casting the city of stone and marble in a sickly pallor. Even fires seemed to give little warmth and light in the gloom that had been cast over the Palamani capital. The legions, for the first time since the death of the first Imperator Valentulus, had been recalled from the front, and were coming home. But if they knew what awaited them, the brave soldiers of the Dominion might just stay in the thick of battle. There, at least, they would not be subjected to the capricious whims of their new god.

The city, once a burgeoning center of trade and a mighty capital, now had empty streets. Everyone, from the lowliest slave to the most powerful Senators, now found themselves gripped by fears. Bringing sacrifices to the temple were no longer enough to sate Conner’s appetite; people would simply disappear, only to appear once more, thin and sickly, and then seem to fade away. No one asked why they no longer saw friends, relatives, or acquaintances. There was only one answer, and one that no one ever spoke. And while it seemed the new god only ever took, it didn’t take long for the most devout of the new faith to be rewarded; they were called the Justicars, and these warriors of the new god were perhaps the most frightening thing in Virtus.

Like the thin and sickly victims Conner left in his wake, the Justicars were the people of Virtus, but they were engorged to such a massive size that no one dared get in their way. They took the Palamani admiration of size and strength to its ultimate conclusion, and distorted it. There had been Palamani in the past that had over-indulged, but these Justicars were something else. They lumbered about the city, taking up the entire street, only having to move, like an approaching glacier, to crush the citizens underfoot. This was the city Roland and his companions came upon.

“We’re too late,” Nocturne frowned, as the red banners of the Dominion were replaced with green rags, stamped with a swirling black symbol. Every voice in Roland’s head screamed when they saw it.

“Edathan!”

“Do it now! Take these weaklings strength, and throw out this usurper from your empire!” Dominus shouted inside Roland’s head.

“Shut up!” Roland snarled, eliciting stares from everyone. Grimacing, he gently laid the crumpled form of Renard down on the ground, and began pacing, his gigantic thighs rolling off one another forcing him into a lumbering gait.

“Roland…?” Nocturne asked, but Claudia held out her arm, stopping the hybrid in his tracks.

“Don’t say anything,” she muttered. “This has happened before.”

“...We shouldn’t do something?” Nyst asked, sitting on his massive haunches.

“Just… be prepared for anything,” Claudia hissed.

“Edathan has made himself known,” Valentulus, the first Imperator, noted. “It is worse than I feared. He is far stronger than you, Candar.”

“You’re joking,” Crystalla, another Imperator, spat. “You can’t suggest that he sacrifice his companions for this.”

“Is friendship worth sacrificing the entirety of our glorious empire?” Dominus snarled back.

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Roland snorted.

“You aren’t strong enough, and you don’t have time to grow more, Candar. You are a God now. You have a responsibility of the greatest importance,” Valentulus answered. “Whatever you do, Candar, you cannot let Edathan win. He’s mad. In his world, he decides who is strong and who is weak. Merit and honor will mean nothing. And even if you care nothing for the Palamani after all this time, think of your home. Think of Candaren. The Palamani will one day invade; would you rather you lead those legions, or Edathan? He’s ground the Palamani to dust, here. How will the Candars fare?”

Roland frowned. “Hello?” he asked after a long pause, shifting his tremendous shoulders and swelling up his mammoth chest as he took a deep breath. There was no reply. The Imperators were silent.

The unicorn turned back to the slightly concerned faces of his companions, and then looked up at the towering city enshrouded by the inky black clouds overhead. “...I’m not strong enough.”

“What? You’re joking!” Claudia huffed, an indignant sneer on her face.

Nyst’s face fell. “What do you mean, friend Roland?”

The unicorn’s boulder-sized shoulders bowed. “Edathan. Now that he’s so entrenched, he’s too powerful. I can’t win against him alone.”

Nocturne’s jaw dropped. “So, that’s it? You give up?”

“You coward!” Claudia roared, and the hyena tensed her overwrought arms before she charged Roland, her rock-hard fist connecting with his abs, as that was all she could reach of the titanic beast. It was like punching a mountainside, and Roland’s brick-sized abs barely budged.

Roland stared down sadly at the hyena as she nursed her fist, grumbling madly to herself. His eyes then trailed down to Renard, still wrapped in his former clothes like a burial shroud. Slowly, the inklings of an idea began to grow.

The unicorn knelt down, and tilting his torso to see over his own chest, he laid his hands on the hybrid’s skinny chest, breathing shallowly.

“Be strong.”

There was a sudden rush, as if a breeze had picked up. Sheer energy was pulsating out of Roland’s hand and into Renard, seeping into his body. The others watched as doubled, then tripled in size. His chest and arms swelled with newly engorged muscle, as his torso and legs slowly expanded. Finally, he was whole again, and perhaps a mite bit larger, as well. Slowly, he sat up, as Claudia pushed her way to the front.

“What… what happened?” the hybrid spoke with a slurred voice, clutching his head.

Claudia rushed forward, throwing her arms around him and jerking Renard into a standing position. Still rather stunned, Renard looked down at her as she rested her cheek on his bulging pecs. “I… suppose we’re not fighting right now?”

“No.” Claudia squeezed her arms around Renard tighter, her tensed biceps digging into his surging flanks. “I’m tired of it.”

“...Me, too.”

Nocturne approached, punching Renard in the arm. “And to think, I was this close to getting revenge for every short joke you’ve ever told,” he grinned. “Welcome back, partner.”

They all turned to Roland, who was panting heavily, and cradling his head.

“Roland…?”

The unicorn waved his hand. “It’s… it’s nothing.” He stood straight, casting all four of them in his shadow. “We have a city to liberate.”

“...Just the four of us?” Renard asked, as he re-faceted his armor on, with Claudia’s help.

Roland shrugged, his shoulders temporarily enveloping his face. “I don’t see anyone else. Your legions would’ve been recalled, but they’re still weeks away…” He glanced back up at Virtus, to the peak of the city, where the Citadel of the Imperator and the Temple of the Strong pulsated with a sickly green light. “And I don’t think we have that long.”

Renard, Claudia, and Nocturne exchanged glances as Nyst moved to join them. Renard saluted in the Palamani fashion, pounding his fist against his massive chest. “We follow your lead, then. Victory, no matter what.”

“There’s only one road leading up to the Temple, where I need to go.” Roland’s eye travelled up the Palamani capital. “There’s no round-about way, no secret passages?”

Claudia shook her head. “By design. If anyone takes Virtus, they have to take it by force and strength, and they have to take it head on.”

The unicorn frowned, but nodded. He stroked his chin, but his eye kept wandering to the cliff-face the city was carved out of. “Nyst? How good are you at climbing?”

*****************************************************************

“Renard…” Nocturne began, his head tilting up as he stared at the monumental gates of Virtus. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” The Ramsky was armed to the teeth, brandishing a sword and shield, his armor groaning under the weight of his expansive muscles.

“Well, I don’t have any others, so by default, it’s the best idea.”

“It’s also the worst by default,” Nocturne shot back.

The lolf shrugged, gripping his two swords tighter. “Eh, semantics. Are we ready?”

“I’m ready,” Claudia hefted her greataxe. “If you’re certain you can keep up with me.”

Renard smirked. “For the Dominion!” he roared, and together, they charged the gate. It took all three of them combined, claws puncturing the bronze gate, pecs swelled and threatening to dent their armor, every muscle swollen and tensed, to slowly pry the gate open with a deafening scrape. Panting heavily, Renard led the way in. Quite a few of the people of Virtus had dared to glance out of their houses, if only to see what was making all the noise.

“Virtus! Rise up, sons and daughters of the Palamani! Your Consuls return!” Renard declared grandly.

“Show us your strength! Take your city back from this false god!” Claudia demanded.

What they could see of the Palamani, cowed and frightened citizens huddling in their doorways, it seemed that no one was going to answer the Consuls’ demands.

And then, they saw why.

At the end of the grand square was a procession, two dozen strong. All of them Conner’s overgrown Justicars. Renard could just barely match the smallest of them.

“Oh, dear,” Nocturne muttered, raising his shield.

“Well… what do you think our odds are?” Renard asked.

The shorter hybrid blanched. “Against them? You don’t want to know.”

“That makes it more fun, then. Fighting side by side everything you hoped it would be, Claudia?” Renard smirked at the hyena.

She snorted. “We’ll see once they’re all dead. For the Dominion!” Together, all three charged, hitting the justicars like a battering ram.

Too far away to hear the din of battle, Nyst and Roland were making their way up the mountain. Their powerful limbs and backs as wide as the mountains they were straddling kept them in place; Nyst clawed deep into the stone, creating purchases in the sheer cliff for Roland to hold on to.

“We charge in together. This is the only clever part I could get, honestly… after this, it’s just a good old-fashioned brawl.” Roland shouted up at the dragon.

The great scaly beast rumbled. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. I owe you my mind, friend.”

The climb was arduous, and Roland was beginning to feel it. He had parted with a good deal of his own strength to bring Renard back, and it wasn’t coming back like he thought it would.

“Look at the dragon, Candar,” Dominus’ voice came back, sounding desperate. “He’s full and plump with muscle like ripe fruit. Take his strength! Do it!”

“Shut UP!” Roland roared.

“Friend Roland?” Nyst tried looking over his own bulging shoulder to look down at the Unicorn.

“Just keep climbing,” Roland snorted.

Their climb continued in silence, until they reached the summit. The Temple of the Strong loomed over them, with a sickly green light pouring out of its yawning entrance. Above the main entrance, flanked by marble columns, a monumental statue was being carved out of the summit. There were no features on the face, but whatever it was, it was monstrously huge.

Both Roland and Nyst readied themselves, but the unicorn looked down at the dragon lumbering along on his burly limbs. He shouldn’t have been dragged into this… perhaps, if he was just a little stronger…

“Nyst?”

The dragon stopped, craning his pillar-thick bullneck.

“There’s something I need you to do before we go in… just stand still for a moment.”

“Yes! Do it!” Dominus roared.

Roland approached the dragon, and placed his hand on Nyst’s shield-sized shoulder. “Be strong.”

The same energy emanated out of Roland’s hand, and Nyst growled as he felt himself grow wider and thicker, if only a little bit. It was nowhere near the transformation Renard underwent, but Nyst felt stronger, as his biceps tensed a little larger, his chest pushed his torso out a little wider.

Roland huffed as he finished. He felt like his horn had been torn off.

“...Friend Roland? What did you do?” Nyst asked.

“Just… just trying to help.” Roland steadied himself. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

The two charged their way into the temple, but Roland stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the figure on the temple’s altar, the monstrously huge false god he had come to overthrow. It was a raccoon, so overgrown, so bloated with muscle, it seemed wedged into its monumental throne. Its legs, thicker than Roland’s chest, were smashed together, its arms were thicker than the pillars holding up the great temple, and his chest and shoulders were so swollen, his face was half-buried, but Roland instantly recognized that one strand of hair jutting from the top of the head.

“...Conner?”

The raccoon shifted, if only just. “R-roland!” Conner gurgled. “Stop! No! G-get out of here!”

“Conner, what have you done?” the unicorn took a step forward.

“No, please! Get back to Candaren! Warn them! P-please, I--”

Roland was catapulted back by a burst of magical force until he hit the temple wall, knocking a hole through it. As he clambered over the rubble, and Nyst had come to his side, the great dragon bearing his teeth and snarling. Conner was disappearing. His body seemed to be unravelling, and at the same time growing. A sickly green growth was consuming him, until a monstrous face absorbed him. Its mouth breathed toxic fumes, and six eyes glared down at Roland.

“Insect! Petulant usurper!” Edathan’s voice shook the temple. “Obey!”

The abominable creature shot out a hundred barbed, tentacle-like appendages, slick with an oily, viscous skin, immediately wrapping around Nyst and Roland. Nyst immediately grappled with the creature, snapping his jaws and tearing them off him, but still they came. Roland summoned up his reserves of strength, and grabbed at the tentacles strangling his mammoth torso, snapping them off like they were twigs. Too many came; for every one of the barbs Roland or Nyst broke off, two more came. There were no words in the unicorn’s head; the souls of the Imperators powering him were roaring with a mixture of rage and panic.

“Everything you are, everything you have, it all belongs to me! Suffer, usurper, and die!”