Demons
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seen from India
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Demons
John... I require lasaga...
Battle Between Brothers
My breath stops when I hear it. Another person in the monastery. Its footsteps disrupting the quiet peace that's been here for so long. There's a noise from the room where my father made me swear to protect the Golden Weapons. Not Garmadon, not anyone else, because he trusted me only.... I nearly rip the door of its hinges as I slide the door open. I see who it is. I couldn't miss that face I'd poisoned years ago... My brother...
"Brother, Father told us to protect the Weapons!" I growl at him, and he turns around, his red eyes glowing, the Scythe and Nunchucks in his hand. The way his eyes pierce like that. He's gone over. The venom has finally corrupted him.
"What's the point of having them if they're just siting around, collecting dust?" Garmadon hisses at me. I charge at him, knocking the Sword and Shruikens out of his hands. I toss the Shruiken at him and he deflects it out of the way, laughing. "You were always Father's favorite. It won't mean anything now."
Is this why my father made me swear? Was he always to know that Garmadon would try to steal them? Did he know that we'd have to fight? I raise the Sword, a tremble in my arm. Must I really have to face my brother? I look him, and I blame myself once again for what I've caused.
"Put the weapon down," I say, hoping my blade will not blow a fatal blow to him, hoping that words can stop him.
"You mean like this?" Garmadon smashes the Scythe into the ground and the force of the quake crashes me through the wall and into the courtyard of the monastery. He looms over, ready to strike the final blow.
I remember that the Sword is still in my hands, I crash the hilt of it into Garmadon, and he stumbles, recoiling from the burn. I scramble away and get to my feet. "Whatever happened to my dear brother?" I yell out, hoping to the reach out the true inner parts of his mind, not this monster that's possessing him. He stares at me for a moment, and his eyes return into their normal state. Deep green. Calming. He shakes his head trying to shake out what's gotten into him. But he changes back just as quickly, eyes red as the embers of fire. Of darkness. "Nothing's gotten into me. I've been like this ever since what you did." His words burn into me as he raises the nunchuck in the air, and I back away, the Sword my only barrier of protection.
Thunder booms as the clouds turn gray. It strikes Garmadon and the Scythe falls out of his hand, clanging on the floor. A gap begins to open in the earth as he begins to fall backwards, down into the madness of this all.
I’m sorry. my brother. If only things could have been different..
Why not call it the Garmydon?
….. perhaps I am not as intelligent as I once thought.
BRITISH GARMY - WEAR THE BEST
sticker, Camden Town, late 2020