Let it come

A large double oak door stands in the middle of the wall.

A thick beam sits across the heavy iron banded structure, sealing everything in... or out.

A thousand voices from a thousand scenes whisper on the other side... and suddenly that thick bar of fire hardened wood doesn't seem so thick anymore.

3 weary men stand before the door, holding battered weapons they wait.

Another walks in the room and eyes the 3 guards one by one before speaking.

Titus Titanium, you were lost in a storm some months ago. Relinquish this postion, this is no longer your posting.

With that he touches the black and silver pommel of the guard's rapier, and the other disappears into smoke and ether.

Turning to the next man in line.

Imperfectia Silver, you were lost in flames and can on longer hold this postion.

A brief brash across the beaten silver basket of sword, and in a shower of silver grains the guard vanishes.

The last guard shuffles nervously in his place as the man stops in front of him.

Sir, who are you? he asks the inquisitor.

Ignoring the question, the inquisitor draws from the well worn sheath at his side.

Me? I am just another guard posted to hold this gate, and until the next inquisitor comes to take my place. I claim no name.

Yessir

The doors buffet and creak a fraction in their seats as the whispers rise on the other side before subsiding again.

The 2 men stand on the other side of the door, praying that that thick wooden bar is thick enough