Vowzra, Level 5 God of Time 14 Might 4 Free Points & Battle Brother Zerabil, Son of the Celestial Above, Champion of Chaos Level 23 Hero, 27 Khookies
Vestec corrupts Zerabil
Zerabil flies off to the Mountain's Crown
Vowzra creates Zera the Ram of Time
The Seers of the Silent Six tell Rejys of Zerabil's condition
Zerabil marches an army north, and the Confederates join him
The army is made up of 1600 fighters and 800 camp followers
The army camps to plan its advance before the forest Ialu first passed through, beyond which is the Strong Tribes' town and vassal villages
Eyes closed and soul far away, Zerabil sat upon the hill. As months had passed his soul had grown in strength until it could traverse those spaces it had before. It could traverse the spaces beyond, and see clearly the paths of Time. He may have lost his abilities - his Father was wise and knew well what he did - but he had certainly not lost his faith. If anything, like his soul, his faith was stronger today than it had ever been, for he knew that his Father watched over him, and the gods would not abandon him. Even the ones who had thus far ignored him. Should he not be a grateful slave?
As if on cue, a presence made itself known before him and the old man's eyes slowly opened. Before him was the unmistakable form of the Chaotic One. Though he did not move from his position, Zerabil allowed his head to fall slightly in respect, and he lowered his gaze in reverence. This was a god after all.
'The mighty Zerabil, defender of humans. Your god has abandoned you. You're nothing more than a weak old man. Why, I wonder? You haven't failed. The dragon God's sudden awakening and return was no fault of yours. Truth be told I suspect none of the Gods expected the Dragon God to awaken. Nonetheless, Vowzra seems to blame you for that. You've been cast aside like a piece of trash, Vowzra claiming Fate has forced his hand,' the god spoke and Zerabil listened with care. These had been his very fears and thoughts not so long ago, but he had long made his peace with himself and his Father. The Chaotic One's words did, however, gladden him. He was most grateful for the reminder of where he was and how far he had come since. For that reminder, he was grateful to the god of Chaos.
Giggling, the Chaotic One reached out and gently touched Zerabil's head. The old man allowed himself to lean against the open palm of the god, letting out a small breath. A god was touching him. 'Fate. Fate is what he uses to excuse everything. He'll even use it to explain what happens next, forgotten Zerabil. Not all the Gods have abandoned you,' with that, Zerabil felt his bones creak and his skin tighten against his face, he felt power flood his muscles and flesh and the magical ability he had lost all those months ago return. However, his soul felt a most frightening pressure, as if it was being pulled in two, and once the pressure was over, there was an overwhelming presence within him that had not been there before. He attempted to fight it off, his soul was a strong soul after all, but no matter what he did he could not. It tightened around him and he could feel himself lose control of his body.
'Go find your Victors. Lead them once more. They still obey all Godly commands right? I have a mission for them,' then Zerabil heard, within his mind, the voice of the Chaotic One, 'Victors! Hallowed Hundred! I have decided to deliver mercy unto the world of mortals once more...for a price. In the far north there is an Empire, Garakai. It's chieftain has revoked the Gods, insulting them and claiming a false god, his 'Mighty One', as the true ruler. You will gather your forces, and any willing to fight with you, to wipe him and his ilk from the face of the earth. For the duration of your campaign, The monsters of your nightmares will not return in the night. I will ensure the Cimex do not strike while you are gone. Go, and let Zerabil guide you.' He turned back to Zerabil and spoke, 'do not waste my gift, Zerabil. After you've laid waste to the North, I expect to see a slaughter the Cimex will never recover from,' and with that, he disappeared just as quickly as he had come.
Silently, the young Zerabil stood up and began walking down the hill with purpose. He took a few more steps before leaping upwards and taking flight. Below him on the hill, the walking stick remained. As Zerabil disappeared into the distance, a wooden hand ripped through the fabric of existence and reached for the stick, pulling it in.
Up high above Galbar's atmosphere, Vowzra stepped out from that same fabric and looked before him silently. The stick was no longer in his wooden hand. However, his chest was agape and within it was a large orb. The wood of the god's chest tightened around it and heat flooded through orb and god alike. 'With the dormant power which lies in mind and heart, I call upon that which does split all apart,' his mighty voice rumbled, defying the laws of nature and traveling through the void of space. The orb melted within him, becoming nothing but a vapour and floating before him. 'I call on the mighty one who lets Time flow, I order it to come from skies above and ground below,' the vapour stretched tall and sank low, obscuring the moon from all who stood upon Galbar. It rippled with different colours. Purple lightening and lilac vapours, a seeping crimson twirled on the surface of the vapour, and an orange hue radiated from it. 'From your slumber you must wake, Heir to a power you must take, Come here guardian, spirit fine, Who built up mountains line on line, Come to your master who calls on you now, Come with respect and humbleness bow! Steed of Space and Time divine, Your rider calls for you to shine, For you to show your graceful face, To this new and humble human race!'
With that, power filled the vapour and it constricted very suddenly into a small shape, and before Vowzra's eyes an ethereal creature took form. The creature emanated power and might, it was a glorious creature indeed. Just as he had wished. 'You are Zera,' came his rumbling voice, 'the Ram of Time,' and at his words, the ethereal creature solidified into the shape of a ram. It bowed to Vowzra in respect before kicking at the non-existent ground below its feet and bolting off, its speed causing the very fabric of existence to ripple around it. That was Vowzra's steed, the divine Zera, the Ram of Time.
Zerabil had paused and looked up coldly as the strange nebula-like vapour materialised in the sky before shrinking and disappearing altogether. He did not think too much about it, however, for he had other more important matters to attend to. He landed on the rampart of the Mountain's Crown, and below he could see the Victors readying themselves for battle. He had been spotted approaching the monastery and Rejys was there to meet him, flanked by the Seers of the Silent Six. 'Battle Brother,' Rejys said, his monotone voice not giving a hint towards what he felt. At his sides, the Seers of the Silent Six looked blankly towards Zerabil, and one of them whispered something to Rejys. Ignoring them, Zerabil looked below at the Victors.
'You have heard the commands of the Chaotic One!' he roared, 'we shall march upon the heathens and we shall bring them down! For the glory of Chaos!' his exclamations were met with silence, until he quickly added, 'and the safety of Man...because the night will be gone...' With this, cheers rose up and the Victors below continued their preparations. Former-citizens were also arming themselves and preparing to join the Victors in their campaign against the northerners. If it meant the end of the darkness and the nightmares, then it was necessary that all contribute to the war effort.
'That is not Battle Brother Zerabil,' Hikat whispered to Rejys, who had turned towards the Outsiders. 'What do you mean, Silent Brother Hikat?' Rejys asked - was that not Zerabil? Certainly he had grown younger, but there was no mistaking him. 'That creature may have the body of our Battle Brother, but within it is a great darkness and corruption. Our Battle Brother fights within, but the spirit of the Execrable Chaos has entered him, and it is that which we see before us now,' Vyngis whispered. Alfid looked towards Zerabil before turning back to Rejys. 'Yes, within that body are now two souls. One is undoubtedly our Battle Brother, consumed by the more powerful soul of a slave of the Execrable One,' Rejys was silent at this, deep in thought. At last, he spoke. 'We will deal with that later, for now it is our duty to do as the Chaotic One has requested. We must bring the night to an end, even if it comes at the cost of bringing down the northern kingdom,' the Seers of the Silent Six looked from one to another before bowing their heads in obedience. 'We do as commanded, Battle Brother Rejys,' they said in synchrony.
It was not long before the five hundred Victors were marching out of the Mountain's Crown, accompanied by seven hundred volunteers from the citizenry, four hundred of whom were armed fighters while three hundred carried supplied, cooked and did various other jobs necessary for an army on the march. As they journeyed north, they passed by the Confederate tribes. After some discussions, and learning of the Chaotic One's offer, the tribes joined Zerabil and the march continued.
The army totaled sixteen hundred fighters, nine hundred tribal warriors having joined, with camp followers coming at eight hundred, five hundred tribals having joined. It was quite the fearsome army, Zerabil had to admit, and they were all his to command...
'Battle Brother Zerabil, we have been on the march for two weeks now, we should enter northern territory once we cross this forest. Our scouts tell us of the Strong Tribe's village and some vassals being beyond the forest, and then further north is a large, well-fortified settlement,' it was one of the many Brother's of the Vowzra's Victors who had brought the report. Riding his horse, Zerabil merely nodded. 'We will make camp here and plan our advance carefully,' he told the man, who nodded and turned to deliver the orders before Zerabil spoke up again. 'Oh, and Brother...' he said, at which the Victor turned around and waited, 'please, call me Thulemiz,' a small, rather deranged smile appeared on Zerabil's face as he said the name, and with that, he rode off into the forest all on his own.
4 Might to Create Zera the Ram of Time 1 Might to Create the Seers of the Silent Six
Ferghus looked down at "Lizzy", the poor creature being tortured so. While it was not his creation, it was still a creature of fire, and Ferghus sympathized with that. However, there was nothing he could do to help it, at least, not without invoking the wrath and contemption of the other gods here. Sauranath might favor it, but Ferghus currently had nothing he wanted from him.
Back to business though. "I see," Ferghus said. "Well, Vestec, my Arma Igna is a matter I'd like to discuss, especially concerning the matter of payment. After all, even you can't just mess with my creations like that and not expect consequences." Ferghus then adressed all the gods here, "Also, if any of you would like me to forge a symbol of power for you, may it be a weapon or tool or whatever it is you deem fit, then feel free to come to Mt. Vulcan. Oh, and bring some form of payment. I don't work for free, you know."
"And Vestec," Ferghus continued. "I think some payment is necessary for my Arma Igna. If you don't have anything now, then I'm willing to wait a week. Otherwise, I can see some things ending... badly."
Vestec's avatar tsked, waving a finger in front of where the Outsider's eye. "Just because you and your creator despise me does not mean everyone else does. Escre hates me because I made the Anju and he didn't like my help in keeping everything nice and balanced and not stagnating. Vowzra at least recognizes me as a necessity. Sauranath doesn't quite know what to think of me. Undasis is wary of me, but not hostile. Ferghus doesn't care, so long as I pay him for whatever I do. Astarte likes me. Svieland hasn't even bothered with me. And Arguis? Arguis might be tired of my actions but he has done very little to stop them or prove that he does. He even approached me for an alliance, can you believe that? For a being who claims to be driven by logic, your math skills are terrible I must say. You do know fear, Outsider. It's why you cower behind your cloak and mask. Otherwise you'd be walking amongst your Communion freely, wouldn't you?"
It raised an eyebrow at the Outsider's incredulity. "If your Communion was being hunted by the Uri, would you expect them not to defend themselves? Would you expect them to not prepare for a trap every time they see the plant people around them, and then eventually kill them before they themselves can be killed? So it is with the Anju. And if you're sure in their powers, allow me to give you a gentle reminder. Even your 'monsters', as you call them, need time to use their powers. It doesn't take much to strike from the shadows and sever the spine, pierce the brain, the heart, or any number of things that would prevent your monks from using their weapons or powers. Or to cause infighting amongst them by simply appearing as one of them. Or to appear as a respected member of the local town council, screaming about how your monks killed a man in cold blood. Humanity, having been shown nothing but a penchant for combat and secrecy from your order, is remarkably willing to believe a few lies."
"The Anju have learned, my defiantly scared friend. They no longer hunt alone either, or just wait for the Communion to come to them. Who knows? Some of them might even be in your Order right now. Your god isn't here to alert you to spies in the midst, after all, and the well doesn't differentiate between souls."
"Regardless!" Vestec's avatar clapped it's hands together. "It is good that you're finally learning to trust your Communion. Walking around in that mask and cloak must get terribly tiresome, I imagine."
Meanwhile, with Ferghus.
Vestec tilted his head at Ferghus, considering whether or not to actually pay the god or just see what would happen if he didn't. "Well, that depends my dear Forgemaster. You tell me what you want. Of the top of my head I can make a Forge in that volcano of yours become chaotic, allowing you to create weapons like the Blade of Chaos. Most of my followers will likely follow in Viscardi's footsteps and pray for a weapon from you and why not give the followers of chaos a weapon of chaos? Also, what things will end badly if I don't? I might just let you do what you please, because it will be amusing. I can't be the only one to cause Chaos, after all, and I can't just let my followers be exempt from it and only cause it amongst others."
”If you think that Escre hates the Anju, you have a poor conception of its mentality. Like me, the Great Spirit thinks only in terms of logic. The Anju presented a balance to outsiders that could be allowed to continue. Of course, killing things for simply existing, and not even to survive, is a strange sort of balance, but nevertheless it has been allowed to stand. If Escre found the Anju intolerable, it would eradicate every single one. If not—congratulations. Your race of murderers has been allowed to persist.”
“Surely you're not attempting to paint the Anju as the victims here? There is nothing to them but death and discord. If we didn't kill them, all they'd be doing is killing us more quickly. When peacetime is nigh, the Uri have culture, creation, and a million other things that make their lives worthwhile. Your analogy is faulty. I expect that was the point, but the only reason this audience is extending as long as it is lies in my pretending that every word from your mouth isn't lies. It remains that your Anju are nothing but killers if they do not limit themselves to those they were meant to slay.”
“Your infiltrators are not so clever as you think. The Anju's existence is known to every Communion member, as is their modus operandi. Posing as mortals, perhaps they may cause a momentary stir, but the lifeblood is incompatible with them. The places where my monks congregate are drowned in its fumes. You are also mistaken about the nature of our powers. Other magics require gesticulation, incantation, flashy displays and spell preparation. The lifeblood flowing in us is more passive. When we are wounded, it instantly begins to heal us. Strike a skilled monk a hundred times, until the walls are soaked with his blood, and he will still rise.”
“And finally, you are wrong a final time. The Great Spirit resonates with every living thing. When it created the Astral Home, it filled Galbar with life energies without which this planet would be barren and dead. It is why every animal has a spirit. Escre's workings are subtle, but they go deep. Any being with a spirit is linked to Escre, and though it cannot feel them all the time, it can reach them through the Astral Home. Would that you could see the souls streaming into the Astral Home even now, through those veins. They are colored and shaped very differently. Humans are white and soft, Cimex are yellow and ridged, Dyun were red and in flux, outsiders are black and soft, Mer are blue and fluid, and so forth. Anju have none, but like hair, a perceptive individual can pick the bald one out in a crowd. They all hum to their own tunes, and their tempo resonated in time to that of the Great Spirit's. The more potent of Escre's creations hold a permanent beat on its own spirit, such as mine, and the Home itself. These, Escre can feel all the time. The High Ones are sympathetic in nature, and often answer when called upon.”
“I may not yet fully understand human emotions, but I am acquainted with the idea of patience. I believe my own is running thin. It is time that you left this place. Take a good look, as well; soon, none save Escre and those it summons will be able to enter. Then, depart.” Invidia stretched its arms out before holding up spindly black fingers as if they were claws.
-=-=-
An unnameable distance away, the god of Life was beginning to home in on a destination. It had found a section of space near an empty planet, alight with a gorgeous yellowish nebula and lined with asteroids. It had grown tired, however, from creation and travel both, and stopped now to rest in this wondrous, cosmic garden. It felt in the distance, the dim pangs of something extraordinary happening. A godly soul had been destroyed—no, partially destroyed. Then...reborn, in glory and power. Escre made a mental note that it would have to pay whomever it was a visit.
Sauranath looked around the world, looking for a powerful mortal soul. There were many great Heroes, but the avatar of the Ancient Dragon Lord soared across the world, looking for worthy folk to see. A certain off spring from one of the Star Lords, as Sauranath called the beings worshiped as deities in the world down below, was an extremely powerful warrior. More powerful even than Ialu, some say. The Avatar of Sauranath found that intriguing. He wasn't looking for a battle, yet, so It might be a good idea to see Ialu fighting for himself from a non-interfering distance. He landed forty feet away from this off spring. Sauranath gave a barely revealing smile, at this warrior. "A warrior, the best in the world, mightier even than Ialu in his prime. I am pleased and honored to meet such a powerful fighter. As you can tell from my appearance, I am a dragon. . . I am the Dragon Lord, Sauranath".
Kanros thought with bemusement a small but apparent smile playing across is face he was surprised he was talked about it had been many years since he had the pleasure of another being of his kind.
"Well it is a pleasure to meet you as well my Lord,"
He bowed to the great Dragon that stood before him.
"I haven't been graced with the presence of my ilk for a long time now"
Kanros sheathed his sword to its scabbard for he had unsheathed it when the Dragon had appeared before him.
"Now why have you come to see me Sauranath is it because some great tragedy has happened among our ilk and you need the mightiest of warriors to aid you our have you been searching for someone to be a companion to you my Lord?"
Kanros asked as he played with a seam in his cape.
"Yikes. At the risk of sounding a little bit backward, you talk too much". Sauranath looked at him for a moment. "No. . . I wish to see you in action. If you have enemies that are dangerous to nearby settlements or towns, please let me see you fight. We could have an equitable acquaintance, should I see the best warrior in the world fight with all his best. My dragon's heart is always for valor and the conquest for the best. He gestured with a clawed hand towards the East. . . "Out there, where are your enemies? Your foes, or at least, those who threaten the innocents? I can see many in danger or peril of life and limb. If I do not trim down these destroyers myself, someone must".
Vestec's avatar tilted it's head in confusion at the Outsider. "For someone who claims to be driven by logic you are a surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, uncreative thinker. Imagine Outsider. You can imagine, yes? Or are you too much like your creator? Regardless, it was a simple hypothetical analogy. Lets try something more obvious. Say I create an Order to hunt the Sanguine Communion because they were attacking the Anju. Would you expect your Communion to not do anything? After all, you've only sent them to hunt Anju. They have no purpose other than to slay them. Would you say to your followers, 'I know that you're losing people to this new order who is defending the Anju, but they're just like us with defending the Outsiders. You can't fight back.'"
"I don't think you would. I think you would encourage, as I have encouraged the Anju, them to kill this hypothetical Order as quickly as possible. Kill them before they have a chance to kill you, and so on so forth. It is interesting to note that the lifeblood goes all the way to the soul rather than the body. You do know the Anju change everything but their souls when they disguise themselves, right? Cut an Anju in human form open and you will only find the insides of a human. A Anju disguised as a cimex is the same way, as is an Anju disguised as an Outsider, and so on so forth. But this conversation is becoming circular. You say the Communion is more powerful, I say the Anju are smarter, and we keep going round and round. And you're right. It is time for us to leave."
With a violent speed no mortal could hope to match, Vestec's Avatar lunged forward to grab the Outsider. With a flash, they were teleported to the meeting with the other three Gods. Well, Vestec assumed they were both there. There was little, he thought, a mortal could do against an Avatar, hero or not. "Forgive me, Astarte, Ferghus, and Sauranath. I had some business to attend to personally in the Astral Home, and still needed to talk to you. So I switched places with my Avatar."
Meanwhile, in the Astral Home
Vestec appeared in the home of Escre, expending minimal energy to make it seem to Godly senses like nothing had changed do to his arrival. "Tsk, Tsk Escre. To leave your home unguarded like this. Sloppy, very sloppy." Vestec walked to the heart of the Home, idly trailing a hand along the wall. The sound of a heartbeat was all around him as he approached the Orb in the center of the room. "Might as well lay down the welcoming surprises first." Quickly Vestec surrounded the Astral home with an invisible barrier that would only allow the select Gods and beings he wanted into what was Escre's former sanctum. Another addition to defend said barrier, and a little more energy to disguise the defense from Godly senses.
"Now that that's all done, lets play a little game." Vestec placed a hand on the planet's heart. He was colored solid black. "How much pain and suffering can I cause with one. Little. Push." The God of Chaos pushed his hand into the orb, immediately corrupting it. It started rapidly and randomly changing colors. Everything connected to it began pulsing the same erratic colors. The Astral home was corrupted. Everywhere there were Visceral seeps, the chaotic energy began pouring out, corrupting and influencing anyone with the lifeblood in their veins.
"Oh my Escre. Is this what you've been staring at down here all along? No wonder you rarely leave. So many souls...just waiting to be used."
1 Freepoint spent hiding Vestec's arrival from any God listening to the Astral Home, looking at the Astral Home, feeling the Astral Home...what have you.
3 might spent creating a barrier that denies access to everyone but those Vestec allows (currently, Astarte, Ferghus, and Undasis)
3 might spent creating a defense that repels any God attempting to enter, siphoning off some of their power during the repelling. (3 might, which is automatically added to the barrier, making it 6 might strong, and then three more might is siphoned and added every time a God tries to break through the barrier.)
2 Freepoints spent hiding said defense from any Gods senses.
Vestec corrupted the Astral home. It and everything connected to it is now under his control. He can see all the souls heading towards it, and has plans for them.
Sanguine Monks near the newly corrupted Visceral seeps are being corrupted by the energy resonating with their lifeblood. Any who attempt to drink it are fully corrupted or destroyed, with no rhyme or reason behind who gets corrupted and who gets destroyed.
Ialu stood alone in a vast boreal taiga north of Garakai. An icy, flensing wind bit at Ialu's flesh. Starved of the sun's warmth thanks to the eternal night, the tundra was frigid beyond description. There was nobody and nothing except snow and deathly cold in these parts, but that was why the demigod had come. It would not do for anybody to see him in this sorry state of his.
Having just stopped, Ialu slung off the sack that he had been carrying on his shoulder. His warspear tumbled out and into the snow. Ialu examined the corrupted weapon, the Blade of Chaos. The Chieftain (or God-King, as he had lately taken to stylizing himself) willed the spear to twist and bend, and it did so until it took the appearance of a jagged longsword.
Ialu reached down to the bastard sword's grip. He clenched the thing with the titanic might of a demigod before trying to heft it upwards. As if it were as rooted into the snow as a tree, its tip would not rise. With a bellow Ialu once more tried to bring it up, this time for a wild swing. Once he had been able to cleave a man in twain like that, yet now it took all of his strength to so much as hold the blade off the ground for a second.
Roaring in frustration, he willed the longsword to change back into a spear. The sword's grip now being the haft of a javelin, he tried to lift up the throwing spear and hurl it. It was all to no avail; despite endless practice, he was just as incapable as he had been half a year prior. The curse refused to abate and he could not overcome it; though out of pride he had refused to bow down and plead to Ferghus for it to end.
Unable to contain his anger, he threw a hand forward and created a surge of fire. The wall of hungry flames washed over a nearby cluster of trees and turned them all into oversized torches. There suddenly came a laugh from behind Ialu. He spun around to face it, though he had already sensed what it was. The nightmare cackled a bit as it slowly crept closer to Ialu, meandering seemingly harmlessly. Perplexed by why this monster of the night did not simply attack like most did, the demigod allowed to draw closer. When it came near enough to be illuminated by the light of the burning trees, Ialu saw his living nightmare for what it was: a weak, infirm, husk of himself. The figure of an old man, laughing at his younger self's feeble attempts to change.
With a roar he clenched a fist and the apparition exploded, its dusky innards flying everywhere as if it had been a real creature destroyed by Ialu's Wi. The warlord spat. He was done here; as he had tried to convince himself a hundred times now, he had no need for weapons. He still had the Wi, and more importantly, he still had thousands that could wield weapons in his name.
He was suddenly determined to go see some of those thousands now. Holding his two arms skyward and invoking his Wi, his mighty and impossibly large form suddenly became as light as a feather. He took off at a sprint, and after a few mere steps he was quite literally running on mere air. His destination was Garakai, the wretched mess of a city that he had been trying (with little success, admittedly) to bend to his will for the past half a year.
~==--==--==~
With a tremendous thud, Ialu landed within the walls of Garakai. A hundred eyes fell upon him as he flew, but they were averted quickly enough. It was not an uncommon sight since their new warlord had made a point of bein seen by his subjects, and often. It intimidated them. It inspired them. Or so he thought.
There was one in particular that he was searching for...Aztoc. Deciding to hazard a guess that he would find the man in the dragon pits, Ialu reached out, probing with his newfound senses to find Aztoc. Despite being Viscardi's brother, Aztoc had pledged fealty, and for that Ialu had let the dragon tamer live. He had proved useful thus far and been far less treacherous than some.
Aztoc gave an acknowledging reply to the probing, unable to do more as he was busily dominating a new dragon brought in. For the sake of the crowd he had a whip and was yelling, random noises, his voice echoing out of his helm. But the real battle took place in the beast's mind. Oh, you're a strong one. He commented, gaining ground against the dragon. He had already taken control of it's ability to speak, lest the giant lizard reveal his secrets. Stronger than any mere mortal! The dragon roared back. It had a notably less impressive effect when done mentally.
I don't think so. You've never experienced this before. You don't know what to do, you're just blindly pushing back like the beast you pretend you're not. I already know how much mental strength you have and I assure you lizard, it is minimal. Regardless, I have given the peasants a good enough show now. You will obey. With that, Aztoc surged forward with his mind, easily slipping past the dragon's instinctive but unskilled defense.
In the pit, the crowd only saw Aztoc give a final crack of his whip, and the beast kneeling before the brother of Viscardi. They, as peasants did when shown a magic trick, went wild. Aztoc immediately turned on his heel and kneeled to Ialu as the 'God-king' arrived. "My lord. A pleasure to be in your presence, as always."
Ialu looked towards the dominated dragon. Yet beast of war for his command. Pleased, his booming voice washed over the crowds, "Leave now."
When they began to scurry off as commanded by their crazed warlord, Ialu turned then towards Aztoc. "The night sky has gone, and the light returned. Now is the time for war; I can sense that the Mighty One has given me this chance so that I might conquer more in His great name. I shall take as many men as this 'kingdom' can muster, and the warbeasts. The tribes to the south will bow to my authority, and the Cimex will be eradicated."
After a brief pause, he went on, "See to it that this is done. Your brother will accompany me for the campaign. I will entrust Garakai to you, as you have been loyal and can appeal to the masses. Your task is of course to continue converting the peasants and fools to the worship of the Mighty One and myself."
With that, Ialu spun around to retreat back to Viscardi's old palace. In his rage after Ferghus' visit Ialu had destroyed half the place, but it was still habitable. Despite the grandeur that the palace had Ialu could not help but prefer his own Mighty Cottage.
"As you command." Aztoc replied, reverently. He was careful to keep his face in the same pretense his voice was, despite his helmet. You never knew what the madman was going to do. He kept his glee at the fact that Garakai was finally within his grasp firmly hidden away. There would be plenty of time to celebrate when the madman was gone, and he was in control of the empire.
-Ialu is pissed off about being cursed. -He's taking an army from Garakai down south and plans to attack both the Cimex and Confederates. -Aztoc, Viscardi's brother and the dragon tamer, is in charge of Garakai while Ialu is gone.
Invidia has destroyed, at least for the time being, Vestec's avatar Escre has called the gods to save the planet Escre is appealing to Invictus and Fate for help
Invidia, the Liaison
A snarling response was already thrumming in the air, just waiting to be resonated, when it was thrown apart by the force of the avatar's advance. Invidia could not prevent the sorcerer from latching its deplorable fingers onto its robes, and the next instant, the Astral Home had vanished. In a cacophonous whirlwind of blistering motion and sound, the form of the outsider hero was yanked across space, and appeared, stumbling and nauseated, in the presence of three gods and a devil. For a moment, Invidia was baffled, but rapidly the confusion seeped out of him to be replaced by raw rage. Despite all his defiance, his big talk, his conviction, and his assurance, he'd been tricked by the Execrable One nonetheless. A newcomer to the concepts of emotion, Invidia had no control over how it seized him, and the anger coursed through his veins like fire. A low, discordant growl began to resonate around him, rising in pitch as the avatar of Vestec chattered to the others like nothing was happening. Clearly, the devil was so confident in even the abilities of an avatar that it wouldn't even acknowledge Invidia as a threat. As malice and hatred consumed the outsider, however, his blood literally boiling, the nausea rippling through him returned in force. Unable to control himself, Invidia toppled over and lay, choking, in the dust.
Escre, the Great Spirit
The pale eyes of Escre snapped open. Something was terribly wrong, but when it attempted to discover exactly what, it found its senses impeded. Escre expanded its consciousness to each of the things where its spirit resonated the most strongly. Forever Fall was unchanged. Invidia seemed stronger than ever. The Planet Cord didn't feel any different. The Astral Home...strange. No matter how hard it tried, Escre couldn't bring itself to sense what was going on in its sanctum. When it attempted, it was repulsed. A dark shroud of worry began to settle over the Great Spirit. Only a god could block the omniscience of another god, and Escre had a deeply disturbing notion of exactly who might be attempting to do such a thing.
Escre, closed its pale eyes, as if falling asleep, and when it opened them the scenery was awash with the eternally setting sun of the Spirit World. It looked down.
It uttered an unintelligible sound, and sprang into the air. The floors, walls, and every meter of the Spirit World was coated in an inky black slime. While this would have been worrisome in and of itself, the fact that said malfeasance was spreading brought even more worry. ”Corruption.” the Great Spirit murmured tonelessly. It the edges of the Spirit World were under attack, then the structure surrounding it -the Astral Home- must have already been contaminated. Looking down at the corruption covering the ground, Escre realized that it could not land and sleep, thereby exiting the Spirit World into the Astral Home chamber. ”Vestec truly does not understand the scope of what it is messing with,” Escre said, and prepared to resonate its voice within the mind of every god except Vestec. Sauranath, Arguis, Vowzra, Undasis, Ferghus, even Astarte, on the off chance Vestec might listen to her...all would hear.
”Something terrible has happened. Beneath my nose, Vestec has infiltrated the Astral Home, and corrupted it. Already the corruption has spread to the surface. It threatens all life on Galbar. The life energies of the Astral Home have been used by all of you to create the living things of Galbar. It is why they all have spirits—they are the signatures of interaction with the Astral Home. In less than an hour, every one of them will become corrupted, and Vestec will have complete dominion over every living thing on Galbar, now and forever. However, I will not let that happen. I have been blocked from accessing the Astral Home, but from the Spirit World I can do something to halt this Armageddon. To prevent the world from falling to Chaos, I will use my lantern to recall every single soul to the Spirit World simultaneously. Such a thing will cause the Astral Home, and by extension Galbar, to self-destruct. If this world does not become a barren asteroid field, it will be a barren wasteland. You will have to begin again, but without me making everything easier for you. As such, I beg of you...as a stranger, a hermit, an outsider...please, retake the Astral Home. I beg you to save the world.”
With nowhere else to go, Escre reset its position, sliding out of the Spirit World and reappearing in the far-off asteroid field near a barren, stormy planet. It could easily reenter the Spirit World to carry out its threat, and would, in thirty minutes. For now though, realizing it could not depend on the self-interested gods to save Galbar, it would have to appeal to a higher authority.
”I, Escre, god of Life, the Great Spirit, the Different One, humbly call upon Invictus and Fate for assistance. I plead an audience, and aid, if my purpose is to ever be completed.”
-Ferghus leaves the godly meeting involving Lizzy. -12 Might spent turning Mt. Vulcan into a holy site, and a much better forge than before. -An Arma Igna's new name is now "Robbie". -1 Might spent blessing Robbie to be unaffected by telekinesis and to detect the true intentions of mortals and demigods. -Ferghus' volcanic forge is open for business!
Might: 1 Free Points: 4
Ferghus gave the matter some thought, then said, "No thanks, Vestec. I'm not interested in practicing my art in a forge of Chaos." He then placed his hand on his chin and said, "As for what could 'end badly', well, I'll keep that a secret. I'll give you a week's time to come up with a suitable form of payment." He turned to address the other gods, "My offer still stands. Come to Mt. Vulcan for a symbol of power if you want one." On that note, he was enveloped in a pillar of fire, disappearing without a trace after the flames dissipated.
Ferghus then appeared outside the volcano forge, wondering what he could do to help make it feel more appealing to his customers, both mortals and gods alike. He gave the matter some thought, allowing ideas to form in his mind. He then implemented the ideas he deemed fit, and the volcano forge was now looking much better. It was much larger now, filled with rooms and compartments holding bits and bobs to aid in the forging process. Molds, vats of molten metal and lava, flames that could change temperature at will, anvils, plenty was here. The volcano also radiated an aura that all sentient minds within a nearby range could sense. It was an aura that exhitbited the strength and power of the Master of the Forge, and would lure those who seeked power towards it. With that done, Ferghus returned to his personal forge within his own plane of existence, now focusing on the Avatar within his forge.
Ferghus' Anatar then turned to the Arma Igna and said, "Your new name will now be 'Robbie'." The Arma Igna then dropped down to one knee and said, "It is an honor, Fiery One." Ferghus then extended his hand so his palm faced outward towards Robbie, and orange mist-like energy emerged from his palm, only to be absorbed into Robbie's body. "There," Ferghus said. "Now you won't be affected by Wi like last time. Well, that particular ability, at least. You will also be able to judge others' true intentions and desires." Still kneeling, Robbie said, "Thank you for these gifts, Fiery One."
"Alright, you can stand up now," Ferghus said, and Robbie complied. "Now, I want you to wait outside the entrance to the Forge for anyone who tries to enter. Judge them to see whether they carry suitable payment for whatever they wish for. If so, guide them in. If not, then drive them away." Robbie merely said , "Yes, Fiery One," before turning around and making his way through the volcano, exiting through the door and waiting motionlessly.
Shortly after that was done, Ferghus received a rather unexpected message about the Astral Home and what Vestec had done. Ferghus sighed. Vestec was causing problems again, it seemed, and someone had to go clean it up, apparently.
-Astarte leaves the discussion, taking Lizzy with her.
How rude and stuck up, Astarte thought of Sauranath. When she met him, she had expected him to behave entertainingly like his own creations. Instead, he was mad. Thinking all Dragons were his and therefore he had to 'protect' them? Nonsense! All he did was oppress them. He could learn a couple things from her, namely how to have fun and enjoy his time with others. Astarte huffed and raised her chin, undignified.
Then Vestec did something--He changed places with his avatar, and his avatar brought with him a mortal. A very... Unique mortal. She could feel the immense power in his soul, and his mere aura made her forget all about Sauranath. "Oh, Escre's little toy, huh?"
It wasn't long until Escre spoke to everyone, and Astarte simply sighed. "What's so wrong with Vestec corrupting everything? You're so self-righteous that you prefer to destroy all life in this planet before seeing it enjoy outside influence? Pathetic."
"My offer still stands. Come to Mt. Vulcan for a symbol of power if you want one." Ferghus repeated and left.
Astarte took off her crown and held it in her hands in front of her. She examined it and grinned. "Well, I don't have any more time to spend here with you, Lord of the Lizards." Astarte said as she flew over to Lizzy, straddled his neck and with a snap of her fingers, she healed his wings.
Kanros did not understand why the Dragon Lord got so quiet for he had just challenged Kanros, it did not make sense for the Dragon Lord to completely forget about Kanros so he decided to try and speak Sauranath out of his trance.
Kanros asked obviously confused why Sauranth became so quiet, that made him wonder if there was something going on somewhere else and Sauranath was getting a message of some sort.
"Has something happened Sauranath?"
He asked forgetting about Sauranath's challenge but it still lay at the back of his mind because he never forgot a challenge but he wondered what was wrong and why they had been taken here and why he had been taken with Sauranath.
"I'm here. . . I wish you were a bit less excitable. Nothing's happened, unless I fell asleep and didn't notice". Sauranath laughed. . . "So, think about it for a moment. Why is it that we are all like this? Vestec has invaded the Astral home. . . " He turned to the voice of the being known as Escre, the Great Spirit. Sauranath he bared his fangs. "Look, I'm sorry for being interrupted. That's why I'm unable to address you like this quick enough". Sauranath looked around himself. . ."There doesn't seem to be anything new". "So, what are you willing to accomplish in my site?" Sauranath looked around himself. He lowered his head and tilted it to the side. "I wish that I could solve all the problems down below on the world, but nothing would happen to let that happen. It's nice to know there are some strong warriors to get things done. Now, master Kanros, surely you would get on with the fine honors of showing me what you are capable of? It wouldn't hurt to step on some enemy strongholds or other kinds of problems in the area would it?".
"Men, women, people of all kinds, why are you always killing the younger or the weaker, or the different? They need to learn that violence, and subjugation are not the only way to solve your problems, and don't really solve problems at all, but propagate the evils of the world. Mortals. . . need help for all areas in your life. It's time for people to stop their exceeding disharmony between one another, and though I would rather the local marauders cease their evil deeds, it is a relish to see the vipers nest in one's home extinguished, let's see you in action."
He explained as he gestured for the Lord Dragon to follow him.
"He is a warrior as I am except a coward but he very good with the sword he has no name but to me he is called 'The Bloody Blade' because he loves to kill his ilk meaning the mortal people of the world and I pursue him to bring justice to him for his deeds"
Kanros told Sauranath who listened to his explanation and Kanros had his blade at the ready and his shield in the other hand as they walked along, as they did Kanros explained about 'The Bloody Blade'.
"He is a murderer and a fool of a mortal although a very skilled swordsman and fighter but he has killed too many in unlawful and unkindly ways and I can not take it anymore!"
And as Kanros finished speaking he motioned for the Dragon to stop.
As they rounded a large boulder where he could see a fire and a large man sitting cleaning a large sword wearing hide and a loin cloth he was shattered with blood and a few dead bodies of a pair of mortals who probably had been staying in the area.
"That is him!"
He whispered to Sauranath.
The man stood up and walked over to a small pile of wood which he carried around usually, threw a couple more logs into the fire and then he looked over at the two bodies with his cold stare a smile forming around his lips as his gaze switched to his blade.
Kanros was disgusted by 'The Bloody Blade' who, he had been hunting for several days and now he had him, so Kanros jumped out and surprised the man who's blade lay across the fire from him.
"Damned be you Kanros!"
He screamed at Kanros looking around for a place to run but Kanros had cornered him.
"You will be the murderer now Kanros killing a man who is unarmed and defenceless dieing a cowards death!"
He cowered in the shadow on Kanros who realized what the mortal meant if he did kill the man he would just be another murderer, Kanros sheathed his sword and picked up the mans large sword which to Kanros was as light as a log to him and he threw it across the fire to the man.
"You shall fight and die like a man then Bloody Blade!"
And the cowering man soon stood up and he picked up his sword then got into a fighting stance.
Kanros lunged through the fire at him, the man swung his sword just missing Kanros as he ducked and Kanros bashed the Bloody Blade in the chest with his shield forcing him backward but Bloody Blade thrusted the hilt of his sword at Kanros's throat which was deflected by Kamros's shield.
Kanros bashed Bloody Blade again with his shield and he heard the mans ribs begin to crack but not break his mouth started dribbling with a bit of blood.
And they spared and fought for long hours and the battle became epic until finally when Kanros struck the man with a blow to the rib cage with the hilt of his sword.
"You die for your sins murderer!"
Kanros screamed into the mans face staring into his eyes that were now welling up with tears, Kanros almost felt bad and he heard a faint whisper as the man said a few words.
"I never wanted to be this way..."
The man wheezed and coughed blood as he slumped to the ground tears dripping down his face.
"I had a family until they were killed..."
His breathing became more and more ragged with each breath and he coughed more blood.
"It was out of grief and anger that I killed..."
His heart beat began to slow and his words became infrequent.
"I want to be with my family and my love strike me down please put me out of my misery and shame for I have done wrong and deserve punishment..."
Kanros shook his head as the man looked at him and he knew the man told the truth because he had told Kanros part of this story long long ago, a small tear ran down Kanros's cheek as he stared at the dining man who looked at him with grief and agony.
"Please Kanros don't let we die of my wounds let me die by the sword!"
He grabbed Kanros's sword and directed it at his chest, Kanros looked at the man and said.
"I understand now you killed for vengeance because you couldn't do anything else!"
And as he said that the dieting man nodded in agreement and then said.
"Now let me see my lovely children and wife"
And with that Kanros thrusted his blade through the mans chest and the man died and in his final breath the man smiled and looked up into the sky a word forming at his lips but he couldn't say it because he had trouble the last tear ran down his face and it dropped to the ground.
Kanros nodded and pulled his sword out of the mans chest and began to clean the blade.
He said with struggle and Kanros understood the man he killed now for the man was seeking vengeance of his families killers but he ended up killing intent people and he became very ill with something.
"Well that was depressing. We need a little help for that kind of thing. I can conjure up some sweet treats if you want?" Sauranath suggested. "Even dragon gods indulging in rich dainties once they have become depressed." He assumed Humanoid form and wore purple raiment, with a platinum crown and set up a table in front of himself and with one hand gesture, he conjured the whole table to be covered with honey combs, cookies, cakes with thick frosting covering every inch over them, chocolate, and other desserts that had not been invented yet. He took a butter knife and cut into one very thick creamed strawberry cake, making a slice of the succulent morsel first for Kanros, and then for himself. "These are technically better tasting than anything that will ever be made by the best cooks, chefs and bakers on this world. . . I keep forgetting what the original name for it was, but we dragons call it after the tree I so hastily burned down. Glad it's back though, I'm afraid that I thought all the world needed for light were the stars up above. Not just the dragon stars but the others made by my siblings. Just ask if you ever need more baking goods".
Ialu, Level 3 Demigod, 9 Might & Thulemiz, Level 23 Hero, Son of the Celestial Above, Champion of Chaos, 27 Khookies & Cassios, the Executioner
Ialu marches his soldiers into the Confederate lands and conquers the Bear Tribe and Stonespear Tribe
Ialu learns of the Southern Army and makes his way back to destroy them
Thulemiz marches the Southern Army through the forest to attack the Strong Tribe and their vassals
Ialu emerges from the forest behind them and attacks
Battle ensues and the Southern Army is completely destroyed
Thulemiz and Ialu fight one-to-one and Thulemiz is eventually defeated
Cassios and Rejys fight one to one and Cassios eventually falls
With the Victors destroyed, the Silent Six teleport Thulemiz, Cassios and Rejys back to the Mountain's Crown
Ialu conquers the Confederate Tribes
The warlord soared back to the Strong Tribe and his first holdings. Many miles back and far below on the surface of the ground marched the Garakain army with Cassios at its head, following Ialu's retreating form like sailors followed a star in the sky. They numbered 1,000 hardened soldiers and then another 2,000 levied slaves in all, with 35 chaos dragons and 15 of the gargantuan Vorks.
Upon his arrival the warlord also ordered his tribe to ready themselves and the vassals to raise their armies. He had at his disposal 200 hunters from his own Strong Tribe, the rest of them staying behind to guard the village. From his vassals he mustered only another 750 men, though these were no mere rabble of peasants like most other villages could offer. These 750 had been drilled for at least half a year in preparation for a war with the Cimex, so they were ready. Cavalry, Wi slingers, and pikemen all would prove to make a formidable army.
After a few days they were ready and joined up with the Garakains. The host marched south for the Confederate villages first. With 4,000 men, they would be an unstoppable horde, and yet it would still not do to attack head on. If the enemy saw them coming they would be able to prepare and that would increase casualties; Ialu could not afford to lose his precious men fighting a few hill tribes when they would be needed to crush the Cimex.
So it was that Ialu decided to conduct a sneak attack. Marching through the densest parts of the woodlands that surrounded his lands, his force would cross into the Confederate tribes' borders unseen until it was too late to raise any meaningful resistance.
That was precisely what happened: the army detached itself into several smaller legions, and in one horrifying spree of night raids, managed to seize control of two villages within a mere hour. Both the Stonespear and Bear tribes had been conquered, or at least their lands were snatched up. The resistance was even more pathetic than Ialu had expected; perhaps the Mighty One had spoken truth when he claimed that these people were weak and would be useless against the Cimex. They barely seemed to have any warriors.
A few interrogations quickly revealed why that was the case, however: all the warriors had joined up with that wretched Zerabil that dwelled in the south. Just as Ialu had plotted to secretly attack the south, so too had they sought to strike against him! Ialu left behind several detachments of guards to maintain his control over these villages. The garrisons were small, but he managed to replace those of his men that stayed behind by pressing many of the locals into service. Drafting those that were able to fight would both ensure that the garrisons would have an easier time as well as break the morale of the Confederates with Zerabil once they noticed their own brethren amongst the enemy's army. It was fitting that the traitorous southerners would be slain in part by their own sons and brothers.
Consolidating his forces once again, Ialu marched them hard towards the north. He had two advantages: his people knew the lands around his tribe far better than Zerabil would, and he would be approaching them from behind, attacking from the last place they would expect.
In his tent, Thulemiz sat upon a wooden chair, staring over the map his scouts had mapped out for him. The Seers of the Silent Six were certainly a formidable force. With their inherent abilities at going undetected, as well as the training Rejys had put them through, they were now a nigh undetectable group of Victors, with the capability - probably some kind of blessing from good ol' Vowzra - to become invisible and teleport. Thulemiz had not paid much attention to the long explanation of their abilities Rejys had given him, but he gathered that they were good at sneaking about, and that was perfect for his needs.
For the past few days they had remained camped while the Silent Six went about their operations in the area, scouting the villages further north and sussing out the lay of the land in order to plan out the best route to take. Thulemiz would have just charged his army forth and let it cause general carnage until everything in its way was dust, but he knew that these northerners were prepared and far outnumbered the southerners. They would need to be a bit more intelligent in their approach. The Seers had also brought information about a great trail in the forest which appeared to have been recently made. It was as though a huge amount of people had recently made their way through. Thulemiz had refused to allow them to follow up the trail and see where it led, they had no time for such things.
Musing over the map, he decided that as things were, they would be able to march upon the northern villages and take them with relative ease. His Seers had told him they were very lightly defended and the population was much reduced from previous expectation. Perhaps they had moved further north where it seemed Ialu now resided. The command went out and the camp came to life as everyone prepared to move out. A few of the camp followers approached his tent and began taking it down, while a few others helped him into his armour. In a few hours, they would be bathing in the blood of their foes, and the river running through the forest would not run with water, but with crimson blood.
'Battle Bro- uh, I mean, Grandmaster Thulemiz,' a voice reached him just as he was about to drive his horse forward and lead the army into the forest. Annoyed, he turned around to find one of the Seers standing just to his right. 'Yes, what is it?' he snapped. 'We have received reports of an enormous force making its way from the south. We have not had time to investigate, but we believe we should turn around and-' 'We have no enemies in the south and we are the largest force for many miles around, your reports must be be mistaken. Now get in line and don't let me hear another whisper from you,' Thulemiz turned away and the Seer's pleas went unanswered. With the tribal force of nine hundred warriors taking up the front and the five hundred Victors taking up the rear, while two detechments of Orabson's former-citizens, two hundred each, took up the flanks, the southern army marched. The camp followers, being camp followers, remained behind. Thulemiz saw no need for them in this assault, they would be sent for once the massacre was complete.
Navigating the forest proved a much easier task than it could have been thanks to the intelligience provided by the Seers, and before long the southern army had emerged from the forest on the other side, the first villages of the northern foe coming into sight.
Also within sight were the narrow dirt paths that cut through the verdant grasslands that the Strong Tribe called home. At regular intervals there were mutilated corpses on display: some hanging from trees, some crucified, others impaled. Occasionally there was just a small patch of wooden stakes, each with a severed head to crown its top. Some of the corpses seemed to have been Dyun or Cimex, but plenty were human as well... It would seem that the northerners were even more savage than their reputation might lead one to believe.
'This is a day of victory!' Thulemiz roared, his voice projecting itself so that all could hear. He was impressed by this field of death, but he did not need it to demoralise his men. Before he could display his strength, a scream shot up. 'Grandmaster! We are under attack!' a voice reached him. And then all was chaos as the southern army attempted to rush into position against the incoming threat.
Ialu sent forward no scouts as his force moved to catch the enemy army, for his own eyes were sharp enough for that. He soared above, lurking in the branches of the highest trees or within the clouds, constantly trying to mask his presence from the magic users below. This helped him guide his forces, but for all of it he dared not come close enough to be able to see much of the enemy army through the dense wood. He waited until they emerged out into the grasslands, then observed them with both eyes and his mind's ability to probe into the distance. They had an alarmingly large body, able to raise far more warriors than he had thought possible given their infrastructure.
Cautiously the northerners had crept through the woodlands, following the rather obvious trail left behind by the some two-thousand invaders. The Vorks and dragons were kept a good ways back, as trees were flattened in their wake and their gigantic forms and resounding roars would draw too much attention.
In this way they followed their enemy through the wood at a cautious distance, until the invaders were at last in the grasslands outside Ialu's lands. That would be the slaughtering grounds; they were vulnerable without the cover of the forest's trees, and they needed to be slain quickly before they could besiege the Strong Tribe or any vassal villages.
The warlord addressed his army. "They do not even know that we are here. They are the prey, we the hunters. Slay them like deer!"
A roar went out amongst the men, though the wind, trees, and simple distance would keep it from the ears of Thulemiz's nearby army outside the forests. Ialu's words whipped his men into a bloodlust and frenzy as any general's might, though Ialu had always had a penchant for driving men into a rage...this time, however, it was even stronger. Though he didn't realize it, he was subconsciously using his powers to bless his force with hatred and the strength that it brought about.
Their inner fire was awakened and stoked, their morals and hesitation gone, their adrenaline giving them unusual strength. Everyone, from the lowly slave soldiers to the terrifying hunters, would fight like devils. Some of the already baleful soldiers would have had their anger enhanced beyond words, until their eyes gleamed with a red, malevolent light.
Ialu quickly had his forces group together. The dense woods prevented any meaningful formations, but they would be able to get into positions quickly once they emerged. The cavalry were on the far flanks, with the best footsoldiers further in to guard the flanks. Sandwiched between those flanks was a great mass of the 2,000 slave levies, most lightly armored if at all, and equipped with only javelins and spears. They were undisciplined and unmotivated, but their newfound anger might just be enough to keep them from breaking. If not, there were all of the mages and ranged troops behind using the slaves as a buffer between them and the enemy.
Any slave soldiers that broke would be killed by those Wi slingers and mages; for the slaves, retreating would most likely be more dangerous and terrifying than simply pressing forward and weathering their enemy's wrath.
Of course, the Vorks and chaos dragons would also be put to use. They were now moved from the back of the army forwards and in front of the slave soldiers, ready to lead a head on charge. Their great bellows and roars might alert Thulemiz's army to their enemy's impending arrival, but there would only be precious minutes before the first horsemen and warbeasts began to break through the treeline.
In the chaos that followed, Thulemiz just about managed to regain control of his troops. The Victors, ever reliable, moved swiftly into position and Thulemiz used them as an anchor around which the others rallied. It was a difficult task, but using their Wi, they managed to fling the nine hundred tribal warriors into position in front of the Victors and facing the enemy. 'Those with spears,' Thulemiz thundered, 'take up the front lines. And those with swords, ready yourselves!' Lifting himself above his force, Thulemiz surveyed the enemy army. There was certainly a mixture of monstrosities in there, and all looked rather angry.
The formations at The Battle of Man's Fall
'Victors!' Thulemiz roared, 'let us send them our greetings!' with that, he raised his arms to the skies and formed a fireball in his hands. Along with him, the Victors raised their hands and added their energies to the ball of fire. Immediately it grew in size until it was the size of a large village. Its heat was tremendous and Thulemiz forced it further upwards so the heat would not affect his soldiers negatively. As it twirled above him, he waited for the opportunity to fling it into them. The forest would burn around them, they would die and the southerners would feast.
'LET IT AT THEM!' he growled, and with a tremendous heave, the great fireball was sent flying into the forest just as the first of the cavalry and monstrosities broke through. 'Welcome to the fray,' whispered the champion of chaos.
The warbeast handlers and the cavalry, those who were outside the forest and could see the fireball, were struck with fear. Their berserk rage could dull the terror of impending death, but not galvanize it. After some hesitation, though, they realized that the only option was to charge forward. Retreating into the woods would almost certainly mean running straight into the fire. Surging forward, the dragons and Vorks went straight for the tribal warriors.
The cavalry rode at a hard gallop out of the woods and into the safety of the grasslands, where they formed wedge formations and began to move forwards. Keeping a very wide berth between themselves and the Victors so as to hopefully be out of range, they began to circle around. If their enemy began to falter, they would charge at the flanks to utterly break them. Otherwise, if an eye was not kept on the cavalry, they just might end up completely behind the enemy. Facing a cavalry charge from the rear while trying to fend off an army in the front would be next to impossible, and Ialu knew that. Even if the cavalry did not do much true damage, they would be a good distraction.
Those that were still inside the woods were not so fortunate as the cavalry or the warbeasts and their handlers, though. Sensing the incoming fire, Ialu shouted orders for all his Wi users to fight it. There were perhaps 500 Garakains with Vistoc control over the fire, the Wi slingers and hunter had telekinesis too...but it was not enough. The fireball's momentum meant that it could not simply be thrown back at the Victors, though with the combined might of Ialu's force they could tear it asunder.
That was exactly what they did. As the great fireball arced through the sky, its fire bathing the battleground and its light drowning out that of the sun, it suddenly exploded. In a great nova, many of the flames retained their momentum and flew towards the forest. Others rained straight down, incinerating one Vork and badly burning another. Still some bursts of napalm flew back towards Thulemiz's forces where the Victors quickly redirected them towards Ialu's cavalry. Another landed in the midst of the right flank, killing a good ten citizien soldiers before Thulemiz quenched the flames, and others merely soared over the southern army to land in the fields behind them.
The frightened horses saw the flames and their careful formations quickly broke down as the animals scattered, but at least that saved many a rider. The surviving cavalry were quick to regroup and skirt even further to the sides. They were not to engage until ordered to do so.
As for the fires that flew into the forest, they easily immolated what trees they struck. Yet the wet and alive wood meant that they would struggle to spread. Perhaps a hundred slaves died in the heat in addition to a few dozen good men, but in the end it only drove Ialu's army forward with more desperation and made their charge swifter.
A veritable horde of slave soldiers broke through the woods, the giant trees overhead like giant torches and the men beneath like an army of ants in comparison. To either side of the slave soldiers were hardened, true warriors: the left flank was lead by the hulking form of Cassios and consisted of the Garakain soldiers, while the right was lead by Ryak and consisted of the Strong Tribe's hunters in addition to some vassal swordsmen.
When those men had come forward the rear showed itself: hundreds of seemingly ordinary citizens cowering behind the slaves soldiers, and behind them robed sorcerers from Garakai, the Vistoc users. With a quick shout, Ialu ordered them to bombard the enemy. The Vistoc users shot bolts of flame that would rain down upon the tribal warriors, only further spreading chaos to make way for the warbeasts.
The others that seemed unarmed were even more dangerous. The Wi slingers reached into pouches at their hips and drew out lead bullets. Whipping them back, circling them above their heads, and then throwing them forward with telekinesis, the bullets whistled towards the Victors. So fast and so small were the lead pellets that they couldn't even be seen in the air, though they did make a sound almost like a scream as they cut through the air. Any Victor unfortunate enough to be hit would find that the lead bullets could break bones and go through armor like butter.
The dragons flew towards the enemy, various elements gathering in their mouths to be unleashed in a devastating unified attack just before the Vork crashed into their midst. Aztoc, sensing his opportunity, reestablished control over his dragons. The mighty beasts continued on their war path, unleashing the elements they had gathered. Lightning, fire, ice, and more rained down upon those who would oppose Garakai.
The dragons flew about again, seemingly to attack the Victors from behind, but instead flew harmlessly above the enemy. Instead, they rained their elements down upon their former allies. Surprise gave them a lethal advantage, and they used it to its fullest, heading directly for Ialu. 35 or so dragons breathed their elements down upon the self-proclaimed God king, before leaving and heading back towards Garakai.
As the rest of the army advanced, one lone figure stood back by the treeline. Taller and greater than he had once been, the looming figure was even more imposing than the mighty Cassios. Ialu stood at almost ten feet tall and his skull and features had warped. Spikes protruded from the top of his skull, creating a bony crown of sorts for the God-King. He was an army to himself; the sole reserve force for this battle. He planned to stay back and command, only joining the fray if he needed to reinforce a part of his army that began to falter.
With pride and satisfaction he watched his dragons devastate his foes, though it appeared that something was not quite right. Rather than the all out carnage that was expected from the dragon assault, their flames and lightening hit some kind of invisible barrier. Likewise did the pellets of the Wi slingers. Upon contact with the invisible barrier, the pellets melted like comets against Galbar's atmosphere. Those that did make it through thunked off the plate armour of the tribal warriors, though those unlucky enough for a pellet to land on an unprotected face found themselves with small pellets wounds in their faces. It was nothing serious, though one or two lost an eye.
The dragon fire - and lightening and ice, among other things dragons produced from their mouths - had a more devastating effect, though the barrier protected the southerners from the full fury of the flames. The majority of attacks found themselves unable to pass beyond the invisible barrier, while some passed through slightly, but did not make it to the warriors below. Others still passed with full fury and wreaked havoc amongst the tribal warriors. Perhaps fifty three warriors fell burnt to a crisp while a further ten were electrocuted to death. Before anymore could fall, however, the dragons passed. But then they wheeled back around and flew back over the southerners without attacking...what were they doing? All of their eyes were concentrated upon one thing: Ialu. He telepathically commanded them, "Attack!"
Whether by his order or not, in that moment attack they did, though all of their fury was rained down upon him. A tinge of fear crept into his heart when he saw the first one's breath coming at him, but he banished it as quickly as it came. With a roar, he flung a hand forward. Pure Hatred cackled and flew through the air in the form of menacing red lightning, striking down the closest dragon.
Then their breath rained down. Stunned and wounded from the attack of the first few, Ialu took flight. Flying through the air, he made it to the cover of the woods and avoided the worst of the attack. As the beasts flew back north, the bewildered Ialu could only think of one person that could have caused such treachery. He would handle that worm later; for now, the battle was continuing as if nothing had happened. In pain yet still in fighting condition, Ialu emerged from the wood once more to survey the scene. His mind reached out over the combatants, searching for the worm called 'Zerabil' that commanded the enemy army.
Unfortunately for the men under Cassios' command, they caught a good deal of the betrayal. Fortunately for them however, most of the dragon-breath launched at them was fire. And Cassios ruled over fire. Flames passed harmlessly to either side of them, crashing into and incinerating the earth around them. Some lightning bolts made it through the flames, killing a dozen men in their armor before it finally disappeared.
What Ialu saw, once he had regained his composure, was a battle in full swing. The dragons had flown off, leaving the front line of monstrous Vorks to crash into the invisible barrier. Their tough hides charred slightly on contact and their charge slowed, but they managed to get through. The tribal warriors were prepared, however, bending their knees and clenching their spears in preparation. Before the monstrosities could clash with the warriors, however, Thulemiz landed before them, a sword of light in his hands. 'Victors!' his voice rose up, and the ground before him began to weaken. He stood there and stared at the huge Vorks as they charged mindlessly forward, the invisible barrier having stalled them but not put them down. This, however, would. As they continued their charge, they came upon the weakened ground and thumped forward. One after another the beasts charged until the first of them was seconds from Thulemiz. Leaping into the skies, he gave the signal. 'Let them have it!' and with that, the ground fell beneath the Vorks and the tribal warriors watched in awe as mere metres from them the monstrous enemy disappeared into the bowels of the very earth. Mud and dust quickly covered the devastated area and returned it to what it had been not seconds before. Looking down at the Victors, Thulemiz could see that a few were on their knees. They were powerful, there was no denying that, and their synchronisation ensured that even those who flagged could continue giving their strength to the united effort of the whole, but that did not mean that the whole could not tire. They were not out yet, he knew. They would recuperate quickly and we would still be able to depend on them.
At the flanks, the citizen soldiers had whipped out their bows and were peppering the circling cavalry with hail after hail of arrows, and at the front the tribal warriors had dug in while the enemy line of slaves swept down upon them. The line of spears held for a good few minutes as wave after wave of slaves simply impaled themselves upon the lines of spears before too many spears had broken or been buried between bones for that tactic to be effective. With that, the tribal warriors drew their swords and let their enemies witness tribal fury and the cold steel of blades meant for the CimeXenos. The Victors, meanwhile, had reinforced the invisible barrier, ensuring that no pellets made it through and that any men attempting to charge through it burnt to death if weak or found their faces charred and their speed greatly slowed.
Flying above it all was Thulemiz. He kept his eyes on the battle field and readily sent commands to ensure that the enemy attack did not succeed. He decided to add some firepower to the arrows of the citizen soldiers and sent a hail of lightening bolts towards the pesky cavalry force. The lightening would hit one rider and then, thanks to their close proximity to one another, it would jump to the next and so on, creating a lightening chain and devastating them completely. He noticed, at the very back, one rather large figure which had not joined the fray. 'May the eyes of the coward never know sleep!' he roared and sent a shard of ice towards the giant figure - who, little did Thulemiz know, was in fact Ialu.
Ialu's own anger began to rise in him when he observed the annihilation of his Vorks. Without the siege beasts it would become harder tenfold to slay the Cimex pests and knock down their hives. However, the slave soldiers were then upon the tribal warriors. Sheer numbers would let them win that fight. While countless slaves fell into the mud in that initial charge, their foes were not unscathed either.
Mixed in with the slaves soldiers was a nasty surprise, as well... From amidst the great mass of enemy soldiers, familiar banners would fly: those of the Stonespear and Bear Tribes. The men from those villages that Ialu had pressed into service were amongst the great body of slave soldiers, and as they came forward they would find themselves fighting many of their allies and fellow tribesmen. Ialu expected it to utterly break the morale of the tribal warriors. And for a few moments, the tribal warriors did flag. These were their brothers and compatriots after all. Unfortunately, the full might of the Confederates was with the southerners, and the Bear Tribe and Stonespear warriors quickly regained their composure when they saw their Shanshir and Jaghnir tribe brethren fighting with increased valour and discipline, sacrificing themselves to protect their demoralised tribal allies.
When the front row of the tribal warriors switched to their swords, they suddenly found themselves at a great disadvantage. The slave levies that still had spears now had the advantage of reach. Rather than press forward into the spears they held back several feet, repelling any swordsman that came forward. Of course, it was easy enough to knock down or bat aside the spear of the man directly in front and charge forward. Many of the tribal warriors did that. But of course, that was not the only man that they were fighting. The spearmen to the sides and even those in the second and third rows back could all stab forwards. Each swordsman had to try to hold at bay no less than four or five spearmen that were within stabbing distance. It was a difficult task, but armoured as they were, and with powerful steel shields upon them, the tribal warriors managed to protect themselves from the jabs coming at them, forming something of a shield wall. Nevertheless, spears got through here and there and warriors fell. Thus was the way of battles.
In that manner the, warriors forming the front few ranks of tribal warriors fell easily enough, only to be replaced by those in the ranks behind. Rather than press forward, though, the slave soldiers actually began to back up, and the tribal warriors held their positions. Spears were not the slaves' only weapons; they had javelins. From just behind the great mound of corpses that separated them from the tribal warriors, the slaves threw their spears. It wasn't just the front row to attack. From the middle and rear the javelins were flung and they arced down upon the tribal warriors; countless hundreds, if not thousands, of javelins fell upon the exposed tribal warriors from incredibly short range. Then, without warning, the slaves surged forward once again to break up whatever remained of their enemy. Seeing the threat, Thulemiz sent a command to the tribals. 'Men, raise those shields!' there were a few moments of quiet as the command was processed. Then, as though they were one, the tribal warriors crouched and raised their shields above them. Spears and javelins rained down upon the tribals. Most thunked off the shields, while others slipped through gaps in the shield wall and landed in the dirt below, or pierced a foot of an unlucky warrior. As the hail went on and spear after spear thunked off the shields, it came to a point where the javelins and spears started piling up over the tribals, and those that rained down afterwards joined the spears piling up. It was rather amazing how many spears the slaves could throw, but eventually the hail came to an end. The spears suddenly found themselves levitating into the air around Thulemiz. 'Charge!' Thulemiz commanded, and the tribal warrior leapt forward to meet the advancing slaves. No slave could match an armoured tribal warrior with shield and sword in hand, and those tribals who had been forced to join Ialu were certainly the least capable of warriors - the real warriors had all marched out after all. Ialu had the weak and feeble, they would not last long on the battlefield.
As the cavalry circling around had been careful to put a great distance between themselves and the Victors, so too had they been wary of the bowmen. Volley after volley fell right next to them, but never on them. At a slow trot, they rode their horses barely outside the archers' range, tantalizingly close... They were hoping to goad an undisciplined mass of enemies into coming closer so as to to be in firing range, after which the cavalry would take a few arrows before moving even further out to draw them away once again. In this way, the citizen soldiers might be lured away from the rest of the army and left incredibly vulnerable... The citizen soldiers made to move closer to their tantalising enemy, but before they could, they suddenly found the arrows that they had fired levitating and joining the huge mass of levitating spears and javelins above. That stopped them in their tracks and they quickly returned closer to the Victors, protecting the right flank as was their duty.
In any case, those harassing riders were the light horse. The heavy shock cavalry, mostly lancers and cataphracts, had broken off and were readying for a charge. Seeing some of the Victors on their knees and exhausted, their focus clearly elsewhere, had been too tempting of a target to let up. The Victors would soon hear the thunder of hooves from behind, and turn to see a great wedge of cavalry charging straight for their middle in the hopes of driving straight through and breaking the Victors' formation in half. Determined by the rage that Ialu had imbued within them, a singed face from the magical shield would not stop them nor their warhorses. Thulemiz had kept his eyes on those pesky riders, and he had prepared for them. As they passed the barrier, the thousands of levitating arrows and javelins suddenly turned towards the cavalry and shot off at frightening speeds. No normal bow could fire an arrow with such power, and no normal man - or even hero - could throw a javelin with such power. Only Wi could do as such - an advanced Wi at that. Much like the pellets fired by the Wi slingers earlier, the projectiles were coated in Wi and had extraordinary sharpness. If pellets could cut through armour like butter, then these would pass through it like a sword through a ghost.
That attack devastated the horsemen; javelins pierced through shield and platemail alike to burrow into soft flesh. Horses tripped and fell into the dirt, crushing their wounded riders beneath them. The dense wedge formation had been their undoing. The mass of heavy cavalry was broken for now, retreating off into the distance. Ialu cursed the cowards as he watched, though admittedly fleeing had perhaps spared their lives. If they successfully rallied again and returned to the fray, they might be able to redeem themselves. Otherwise, they would face their warlord's wrath.
While all that happrened, the melee troops had not been idle. There was the left flank, a mass of dark-hearted Garakain footmen in armor as black as their hearts. At the head of them was Cassios, the massive executioner and brother to Viscardi. The right flank was an odd combination: normal enough looking swordsmen, not unlike the tribal warriors, but mixed in with the Strong Tribe's hunters. Their dragonhide armor coming in all colors; what made them all the same were their savage spears tipped with dragon teeth, the shortswords at their hips, and the ability to use the Strong Tribe's special Wi to telekinetically tear someone apart, usually from the inside-out. The southerners' left flank had seen relatively little action, and thus were ready for Ialu's right flank. Drawing their swords and preparing their shields, they dug in and prepared to keep their foe at bay. The citizens were not trained warriors like the tribals, this was true, but they were well-armed and had spirit, and that would carry them through. They hoped.
If the cavalry had succeeded in luring away the citizen-soldiers, the bowmen that were concentrated on some fleeting horsemen would suddenly find themselves hit in the flank by elite infantry and almost certainly overwhelmed. Had they not been lulled away from their allies and tricking into firing uselessly at the cavalry, they might fare better. In any case, while some of the nearby tribal warriors might be able to help, the moment that the bowmen were distracted and in a melee fight would also be the moment that the nearby light cavalry charged them as well. Though the citizen soldiers had not allowed themselves to be lured away, thanks to the timeley intervention of Thulemiz, there was no denying that the charge from Cassios and his men would wreak havoc upon them... Cassios was unable to fly, and thus unable to help his king in the battle above them, against that pesky flying general. This infuriated the Executioner, and there was only one target to take his anger out on: the enemy. Cassios fueled his limbs with the Wi he had learned from a Monk and charged forward, his men following as quickly as they were able. Fortunately for them, they were a good distance away when Cassios began to super heat his arms and armor.
The citizen soldiers felt the heat long before Cassios was very close to them. By the time he crashed into them like a super heated battering ram, the grass in front of them had already wilted with the heat. Weapons melted when they tried to strike him, arrows exploded into flames, and his hellishly glowing axe sliced through all armor and blades as easily as water. The smell of cooking meat filled the air as the Executioner went to work, a rasping, gagging sound emitting from his helm. His rampage went on for a good thirty seconds before a huge suit of armour was upon him, aiming to strike him a blow which, if it landed, would send him flying into his charging men. The suit of armour - Rejys - would then take another mighty leap and fight the enemy commander away from the citizen soldiers. Had he not made contact, Rejys would lure Cassios away, taunting him and challenging his capabilities. Meanwhile, the citizen soldiers guarding the right flank prepared themselves to face off against Cassios' men - who had no doubt been devestated by their fiery leader being sent into their midst, had Rejys made contact with him.
Cassios snapped his axe up to meet the blow, his feet digging in the earth as he absorbed it. It was obvious Rejys wasn't human, or at the very least resistant to heat attacks. He wasn't melting. Cassios made his disturbing laugh again, causing the earth to fall out beneath Rejys. The great metal being easily levitated itself before bashing at the other with a metal fist. White steam was slowly beginning to emerge from its helmet, and a strange red glow surrounded it. Cassios's neck snapped back, but he only laughed again. A gale was summoned, slamming into Rejys's flying form in an attempt to bring the metal man back to the ground. Rejys allowed the gale to carry him into his opponent, attempting to drive his sword through the other's chest as he landed nearly on top of him. Cassios neatly stepped to the side, the blade screeching loudly against his armor, and swung his axe at the metal man's rather large chest. With the same motion, Rejys spun so that he was much too close for the strike to be effective. Cassios would find his arm extended outwards and the axe's tip striking the air behind Rejys. With that, the metal man savagely head-butted at his foe, while simulatenously raising his spiked knee towards Cassios' groin. Cassios jerked his knee forward to block the knee and met the headbutt head on. Unfortunately, Cassios had a brain to be rattled. Rejys did not. Cassios stumbled backwards, his axe loose in his grip. Rejys attempted to press the advantage, but was met with a tortured sounding scream of pure fury.
The earth tore below their feet, fire shot up all around (incinerating the remaining Orabil Citizens nearby and a good amount of Cassios' own troops), lightning crackled down and the winds howled in their little arena. Cassios poured more Wi into his limbs, and charged forward to kill the hated foe. Blow for blow, axe for sword, they tore at each other like wild animals. Bits of armor flew out on both sides, and blood could be heard hissing where Cassios was wounded. Cassios was human though, however strong. Eventually his body gave out and he collapsed, his armor slowly cooling off. Rejys stood over the fallen Cassios, his armour cracked and falling apart. He took a step towards his opponent and raised his sword to finish him off once and for all, completely unaware of the precarious state of his physical form. Before he could direct the finishing blow at the felled Cassios, however, his innards began to cool and his arm dropped. Steam stopped emerging from the gaps in his armour, and the great Arma Igna was silent.
Seeing their individual attacks uselessly deflected by the Victors' barrier, the Vistoc users ceased bombarding the invaders, at least for the moment. The Vistoc users, about as numerous as the Victors, began to concentrate all their power together into a single bolt of lightning. The thing loomed above their heads, suspended in the air and unmoving as it cackled and grew only larger. Then, they hurled it forward straight for the Victors before starting to conjure another lightning bolt. While the shield would surely weaken the gigantic lightning bolts, thwarting the repeated efforts of half a thousand mages would be almost impossible to do for long, especially given that the Victors were being bombarded by lightning in the front while simultaneously having their rear charged by heavy cavalry. However, unlike the mages and cavalry, the Victors were a mighty Order, created by Vowzra and blessed by Zerabil and trained for many years. More over, they had spent years hunting down the Dyun until they had captured the last of them. Their rate of recuperation and capability was not that of normal men. If Ialu and his men did not already know that, they would very soon learn. With the cavalry facing off against thousands of projectiles, those Victors who had been kneeling suddenly rose to their feet and raised their metal weapons. As the lightening bolt pierced the barrier, the will of the Victors seized upon it, and it struck them. The lightening bolts entered the weapons and were conducted through the armour of the Victors, leaping from one to another. The next lightening bolt was dealt with in a similar manner, and the Victors stood there, brimming with the electric energies their foes had sent at them, prepared to let them loose at any point.
Meanwhile, Ialu easily found the one that he had been looking for. The flying man could be none other than their general, and this fabled 'Zerabil'. Slaying yet another great warrior would make the Mighty One pleased indeed!
The Wi slingers and Vistoc mages were still bombarding the magical shield, trying to break through and get to the Victors. Even though it looked like they weren't having much success, they were at least keeping those few hundred occupied with maintaining the shield.
When the flying Thulemiz, safely within his wretched shield, shot an attack of magical ice the projectile had to travel across the battlefield. Ialu quite literally saw it from almost a mile away, but he didn't even bother to dodge or deflect such a pitiful attack from his adversary. He visibly laughed as the ice that could have felled any normal warrior didn't so much as stun him. The warlord's thunderous voice boomed, "Ah, you must be Zerabil. Tell me, little one, why you can call me craven whilst you hide up there?" Having forgotten about that distant, cowering figure, Zerabil was surprised to turn and find that he was still alive. Perhaps his ice bolt had missed - it was quite a distance after all. Before he could send another and finish him off for good, he felt something most strange. Ialu had reached out with his magic and grabbed Thulemiz with a crushing grip. He remembered the first dragon that he had hunted, when it had taken his Wi combined with that of a dozen hunters to bring the beast to the ground. He laughed a little at the thought. Now, he could slam a dragon into the ground hard enough to kill it, and without any help. Thulemiz could fight the force that gripped him of course, but overcoming both gravity and the Wi of a demigod would be a herculean task. Surprised by the powerful grip on him and still attempting to work out who was gripping him, Thulemiz could do nothing as he was dragged down to the ground, and he found himself among the Victors who were bristling with electric energy. He could feel some pressure on him, as though someone was trying to crush him, but it was far too weak to affect the champion of chaos. That was most strange, and he still had not detected who it was...it could not have been that far off figure, could it? He was much too far to do something so intricate...
Ialu grinned as he saw Thulemiz tumble from the sky. He maintained his grip, driving Thulemiz downwards even as he was already on the ground, crushing him. After a few moments of that, he still sensed that his prey was alive. It would seem that he wasn't strong enough to finish off this fool from afar; he would have to get closer.
With one great leap Ialu soared, sprinting through the air. The sky visibly rippled as he smashed through the magical shield with such force. He landed amidst the tribal warriors, causing chaos as he smashed through the shields of those he landed upon, crushing them like grass beneath his feet. Reveling in the bloodshed as he simply plowed his way through the rest of them, forcing his way through to the Victors. Once he was through the tribal warriors' formation, he leapt once again.
Landing in the midst of the Victors, one raised up a sword meaning to impale Ialu as he came downwards. Ialu smashed into the blade, and the metal sword bent. It may have been forged by an Arma Igna, but an Arma Igna was no god; that weapon didn't even pierce the warlord's flesh. Ialu threw a hand upwards, and in doing so used his Wi to throw that one pesky Victor upwards as well. The man soared up and through the shield, where the lead bullets were hailing down.
With that annoying one dead or at least out of his way, Ialu looked for where Zerabil might be hiding amidst all these pompous 'Victors'. The longer that it took to find Zerabil, the more time Ialu would have to hack apart the Victors. Perhaps the chaos that he created would even weaken their shield enough to make the bullets and fireballs come through. Luckily for the Victors, Ialu had landed right in the middle, sending the Victor right beside Thulemiz flying up into the air. 'Protect your Brother, Victors!' Thulemiz roared before turning upon the trespasser. The Victors fanned around Ialu as the Victor he had thrown was quickly gripped and brought back down, a few pellets had penetrated his armour, but he was mostly uninjured and the wounds would heal quickly - thus were the blessings of being a Victor. Ialu would then feel the pressure of the entire Order, and Thulemiz, descending upon him and attempting to force him to his knees. 'If you wish to fight, foul being, then let us take this somewhere where I can wipe you into the ground where you so deserve to be,' Thulemiz said coldly.
The pressure was unimaginable, so much so that it pushed Ialu's tongue out through his mouth as if he was being smashed beneath a boulder. Yet for all of that, he felt glee rather than pain. With the Victors distracted, all hell broke loose. The shield gave way with them focused elsewhere, and great fireballs and lightning bolts rained down. A hail of lead bullets also showered the Victors, with those that arced low falling amongst the still unbloodied rear ranks of the tribal warriors. Death itself had been unleashed.
With tremendous effort, Ialu forced the air out of his lungs in a shallow laugh. That alleviated some of the pain from the pressure. Then, unresponsive to Thulemiz, he watched as the projectiles rained down. One way or another, he knew that the pain would soon go away. They would cease their efforts on him in favor of bringing back the shield, or they would be devastated beneath the hellish rain of death. He could wait a short while. Much as Ialu had expected, the Victors turned back to maintaining the shield, protecting themselves from the hail and quickly extending it back to the rest of the army. While the Victors escaped the close encounter with the enemy's magics and pellets, the tribal warriors and two flanks were not so lucky. Neither were Ialu's own men, for that matter. The tribal warriors, who were intertwined with the slaves, received a hail of pellets, lightening strikes and fireballs, and many good men fell. These did not just land on the tribals however, and many slaves fell to the pellets and magics. The lightening bolts, to make matters worse, conducted through the metal, and many more tribal warriors and slaves found themselves electrocuted to death despite not having been struck directly by the lightening. The chain lightening ran through near anyone with metal on them - whether it be armour or swords. The ranks of slaves and tribals alike were utterly decimated, and humanity, it would seem, lost a huge mass of its population.
Though Ryak could not see how the other flank had fared, his did not suffer so grievous a loss. Indeed, the citizen soldiers had been swiftly cut through like ripe earth beneath a plow. In the middle of their charge the few hundred Strong Tribe hunters had began to use their Wi. In an instant, the former citizens of Orabson found perhaps half their number suddenly afflicted by wild spasms. One or two of the hunters attacking each of those citizens, they died horrific deaths. Digging in had done little to stop the twisted Wi from destroying their internals organs or pulling their guts out through their mouths. They erupted into geysers of gore, resembling macabre volcanoes as they spewed out crimson fluid.
Those that didn't rout at the mere sight of their comrades dying like that were then forced to face off against the vassal tribes' warriors, mostly swordsmen. Ialu's right flank, vastly outnumbering their enemy and with warriors far more formidable, easily overwhelmed them. Of course, as soon as that had been done a stray bolt of chain lightning from the Vistoc users wreaked havoc. The friendly fire killed a good many of the dense swordsmen, but most survived. The Strong Tribe had mostly lingered back as they did their magic, and without conductive armor they fared rather well when the lightning arced their way.
The same happened at both flanks. Citizen soldiers, Strong Tribe warriors and northern soldiers alike fell, though the magical attacks and pellets were not as many here as there was upon the front lines. While many fell, the battle at both flanks raged on once the shield was back up. The Hallowed Hundred, unlike the rest of the Victors, kept up the pressure on Ialu, attempting to lift him up and throw him far off. Thulemiz took advantage of Ialu's inability to move and gripped him, before he too attempted to lift him and carry him off where they could go at it one-to-one. If Ialu understood the ways of warriors, perhaps he would respond by making it easier for them to carry him off to the edge of the forest...
Ialu would move, but it would be of his own volition. Not because he let some 'Hallowed Hundred' fling him off like a ragdoll. Ialu looked deep within himself. He found the strength that the Mighty One had blessed him with, the chaos from the divine blood that he had drank, and deepest of all, a fragment of the golden light and raw power from the golden being in his dreams...
Ialu summoned all those powers and let the pressure force them out. He basked the air around him in magical energy and it rushed outwards in an explosion of concussive force. Knocked off their feet or at least stunned, the Hallowed Hundred released their grip. As Thulemiz grabbed Ialu so too did the warlord grab him by the throat. In a moment they were both soaring. Ialu grappled Thulemiz in an attempt to force his foe to be the one to break through the magical shield, face first. Though Ialu's grip was strong, Thulemiz was fully adorned in the very best armour Rejys had crafted, the steel it had been created from was amongst the rarest in Galbar - Rejys had gone to Ferghus' great mountain forge and mined it from a vein there. Of course, it was not impossible to penetrate, but a mere grip could not bend it or strangle the wearer. The armoured Thulemiz gave a mighty roar and gripped Ialu even tighter than before before sending his armoured head into the other's face. Both would break the barrier sideways, at the same time. Lightening falling down upon the champion of chaos would be channeled through the armour and right into his foe, while the armour - being from the Forge God's own mountain - was resistant to fire based attacks, and so Ialu and Thulemiz would pass through them unharmed, any pellets being melted by the heat.
The shock from flying through the barrier together having broken them apart, one of the mages' lightning bolts thundered right through space between them both, the air humming and cackling with energy for a moment afterward. Ialu shrugged off the jolt from the small portion that arced towards him, then soon after landed with enough force to shake the ground. Being at the forest's edge, the Vistoc users were not far away. Many of them turning their heads to watch in awe as their leader, the very one that had slain Viscardi, faced another foe. Perhaps they would have a new chieftain soon?
Ialu barked at them, "Any fool that stops fighting will have his head on a spike! FIRE UPON THE FLEEING COWARDS! WE'LL FLAY THEM YET!"
Terrified into obeying his orders, the Vistoc users turned away from that duel. They rained hellfire down upon what was left of the fleeing tribal warriors. The slaves that had been on their side at the beginning were now retreating as well, straight for the Wi slingers and Vistoc mages. So the Vistoc mages used their powers to create great walls of flame and spikes of earth to hold the terrified slaves back; they did not want to kill their own allies, so instead they simply tried to force them back into the fray.
The Wi slingers continued to bombard the magical shield to keep the Victors busy, though they fired much more slowly now. They were running out of ammunition and trying to stretch out their remaining reserves. Then the shield disappeared for a second time and the ground before the Wi slingers arced upwards, like a titanic sea wave, before crashing down towards them. Upon landing, if it did indeed land, it would devastate the slingers completely before rising up again and descending upon the Vistoc users. This was the might of what was most certainly one of the most powerful Order in existence, and Wi slinger and Vistoc user would do well to remember that. If there were any survivors from the attack, they would soon find the Victors descending upon them, their armour and swords reinforced with Wi for extra protection against magics and for extra sharpness of weapons. As one, and in complete synchronisation, they would slaughter their way through the mass of foes. When any Victor appeared weakened, he would jump back and another would take his place. If he cannot jump back, those behind him would carry them to safety and another would step forward to continue the massacre.
The magical wall falling with its full force down upon the unprotected Wi slingers and Vistoc users followed by a charge might have been horrendous, but for Ialu it fortunately did not go down at all as the southerners might have planned.
The tribal warriors defeated and both flanks of Orabson's former citizens easily crushed by their more skilled attackers, Vowzra's Victors were suddenly a small island amongst a sea of enemies, being the only ones left fighting. They would find themselves suddenly attacked from all directions.
To their left came the mostly fresh Strong Tribe hunters. Oh, the Victors might claim to be more powerful, but they had suffered many casualties already from the dragons' attack. Holding off the bombardment for so long would have exhausted them, as would the attempt to put pressure upon Ialu and subsequently return the shield after being barraged by a hail of magic and lead bullets. The Strong Tribe had existed as long as civilization had. They predated things like steel and armor, even war itself. They had existed and fought for years before Zerabil or his Victors had come about. The Strong Tribe hunters had trained for longer than any of the Victors, under a leader more powerful. They had been fighting throughout their whole lives; first against Cimex and Dyun, and in more recent times against dragon and invading barbarians. They practiced their Wi every day, many times on the live prey that they hunted. Anybody who questioned whether the Mighty One's Chosen Tribe could match a tired mass of Vowzra's champions was a fool.
So it was that the Strong Tribe attacked the Victors' left, each one picking an enemy and reaching out with their Wi to telekinetically slay that particular foe. The Victors could fight back, but of course the Strong Tribe had used such Wi for years and mastered it; in comparison, the Victors would be attempting to work a sort of Wi that they had never experienced before. The result would go rather one-sided, with the Victors being forced to break their attention away from the wall and slamming it if they wanted even a chance to survive. While the Strong Tribe engaged their foes magically, the swordsmen that had formed the rest of the flank surged forward to engage the Victors in a melee. Simultaneously, the equally large force of Garakains charged from the other side. From behind, the light cavalry that had been unscathed by Orabson's archers had been at work regrouping and rallying much of the surviving heavy cavalry, and a great mass of a hundred or so horse were forming up and readying for a charge at the Victors' rear.
Whilst well over a thousand slave-soldiers had died, there were still hundreds of survivors and these survivors were hardiest and deadliest of the lot. The Vistoc users had successfully managed to hold back the fleeing slaves and drive the ragged remnants of the once gigantic mass forward once again, so the Victors would find their front suddenly being attacked by the slave spearmen. Once the spearmen had been guided in, the Vistoc users and Wi slingers would be eager to punish the ones that had invaded their lands, thwarted them throughout the entire battle and then tried to slay them all.
Thulemiz's invasion force had fought valiantly and inflicted a grievous loss upon Ialu's forces. They had slain all of his warbeasts, devastated his horde of slave soldiers, and broken most of his heavy cavalry. But now the tides were turning in the favor of the stronger side; the Victors were now outnumbered perhaps three to one. Their enemies knew unnatural rage that Ialu had summoned in their hearts, and as they feasted upon the blood, pain, and suffering of the battle their inner beasts only grew. They would fight the Victors like devils, and some would even begin to look like devils: eyes and mouths glowing carmine with Rage and blood boiling with Hatred, unnatural strength and speed in their bodies, they would be dangerous indeed.
Meanwhile, the fleeing heavy cavalry that hadn't returned to the fray no doubt were riding hard to the nearby villages. So with that state of affairs, there was the very real possibility of the small garrisons and militias within the settlements hearing of the battle and showing up as reinforcements.
The exhausted and wavering Victors might be able to kill a few hundred more if they stayed and fought, but they would be near completely destroyed in the bloodbath. At this point retreat would no doubt be a tempting option. If they focused their efforts on a charge to break through one of the lines. Of course, that would still take a heavy toll but a good amount of them could survive to continue the Order. The Victors, however, knew no fear and had suffered no casualties - indeed, many were injured, but those would heal given enough time, and they were still brimming with the electricity of their foes. Surrounded from all sides, they calmly created a protective circle and prepared to fight from all sides. Synchronised and absolutely focused, absolutely united, the Victors ripped into their foes. The great wave of earth which had stopped momentarily as the Victors registered the situation suddenly continued its plummet upon slaves and slingers alike. It was a shame the slaves had not simply charged the slingers and Vistoc wielders as they attempted to escape, for now they faced certain death. The earth collapsed upon them all, but did not rise again to engulf the Vistoc users as originally planned, for their attention was now elsewhere. Having coated themselves in Wi, the Strong Tribe hunters would find their intricate attempts at destroying their enemies' innards thwarted. The layer of Wi acted as a disruption to the their Wi flow, preventing their will from being carried out. With Wi and blades alike, the Victors now ripped into the the forces which had decimated the citizen soldiers. When they tired, those who flagged withdrew and were replaced by those who had recuperated in the middle of the protective circle. But as powerful as they were, they were outnumbered and their foes had great magical powers.
Slowly, but surely, Victors began to fall dead. Their unity knew no fear and there was no breaking their morale, and valiantly they fought, tirelessly and without thought of retreat. Death or victory, nothing more and nothing less. The Victors would be destroyed, but with them would go down countless more enemies. The Victors had decided - this would be a battle to their deaths.
Ialu now turned towards Thulemiz. His foe had great, bulky armor out of some sort of magical steel. In contrast, the God-King of the North was nearly naked. He had a kilt of the dragonhide and scaled armor that his hunters used, though the rest of his body was bare. His skin was like steel, and he found himself immune to cold, hunger, fire, and most weapons. The few things that could hurt him were also powerful enough to hack through armor, so the chieftain preferred to armor himself lightly so as to have the advantage of speed.
With little to encumber him as well as inhuman reflexes, Ialu would have that advantage of speed now. However, Ferghus' curse had rendered his warspear useless and so he was now forced to fight with only his fists and magic. That would be enough for him, however; he had slain his first dragon with less than he had now.
"So you are the Zerabil that Ryak spoke of? I expected more from you. Your sacred tree went up in flames, along with your town and now your men," Ialu laughed, gesturing towards a few of the routing tribal warriors that were being incinerated by the Vistoc mages.
"...and after all of that, you retreated to some castle on top of a mountain and cowered, calling off the war to eradicate the Cimex bugs. You're weak, just like your feeble 'Celestial Above'. A god revered by thousands, fleeing from some oversized dragon. How fitting that his cowardice and ineptitude is reflected within your Holy Order."
Ialu reached out with his Wi towards Thulemiz. He would exploit his foe's armor, by using telekinesis to bend and manipulate it. Locking the joints and breaking bits of it, he would try to immobilize his enemy and injure him.
While he toyed with and tortured his adversary, Ialu kept talking, "You're slow, just like the Arma Igna that now commands your Order. Placing a hunk of metal in charge of an army. Stupid. Pathetic. The last time one of its ilk entered my lands, I slammed it against a wall as its wretched Forge God watched. Thulemiz was quiet as he counter-acted the other's meddling with his armour and reinforced it with Wi in order to disrupt his foe's strange ability. Within his right hand, the sword gifted him...or should he say, gifted to Zerabil, by Undasis appeared. It was a sword of pure sunlight and ethereal. No physical thing could hope to withstand it. Tied to Zerabil's body as it was, there was no way of disarming him either, nor could it harm him, for he was the sword's sheathe. The ground around Ialu's feet would suddenly become soft and sticky, and he would find himself sinking in it. 'You are not the only one who can meddle with little things, puny one,' Thulemiz said monotonously as he reached out with his blade and extended his Wi towards Ialu, sensing the liquid within his body and gripping upon it. Ialu would feel the very blood within his veins begin to cool down. Ialu may not know, but such a thing was very dangerous. Before long it had heated up and Thulemiz had a bit of a wild time simply causing the other's blood to heat and cool rapidly. He was certain that the side-effects would be rather drastic, but who cared?
Making any man's blood heat and cool would wreak havoc on him and soon render him unconscious and then dead, but on a divine being who knew neither the soft embrace of deathly cold nor the searing heat of fire? It did little.
Ialu eyed his foe's sword. One quick look told him it was no ordinary Wi sword. It summoned back memories of the Dyun Champion whose sword had nearly obliterated half his village and slain dozens of hunters, and of Viscardi whose sword had impaled him. Both of those great adversaries had fought with blades, and both times Ialu had made the mistake of straying too close...
This time he had no weapon of his own with which to simply overpower Thulemiz; he was forced perform a different strategy. He called upon the Vistoc to make a great spike of earth explode up from beneath Thulemiz's feet, just as Viscardi had once done to him. Then he telekinetically hurled a few nearby stones at Thulemiz with enough force to shatter bones, whether the armor crumpled or remained impossibly stiff. Thulemiz immediately sensed the Wi beneath him - years of meditation and focus did that for a man - and before the spike could emerge, he neutralised it and nothing happened. The stones, despite their speed, were swatted aside with Thulemiz's own Wi. Fast, small projectiles were very vulnerable to being meddled with. He took the opportunity to leap forth at Ialu, who was still trapped in the strange sticky, moving earth, aiming to behead him with one strike.
Ialu raised an arm and ducked, the blade grazing off his forearm. It cut through his stony flesh as expected, sending a fresh spatter of blood flying towards Zerabil. Infused with the blood of the chaos god himself, the fluid boiled and writhed just a bit, burning what it touched as if acid. The blood sprayed all over the armour and seeped in as if with its own will. It found the cracks in the armour and made its way through, leaving trails of slightly melted metal as it went. Eventually, it made contact with skin and burnt through, much to the chaos champion's shock and horror. 'W-what is thi-' he managed to stutter before the blood entered his stream and pain wracked his body and mind. All attempts at following through with his attack flew out Thulemiz' mind as the chaotic blood of Ialu, mixed with his chaotic master's, intertwined with his own.
Having not realized that the ground beneath him had him rooted in front, Ialu was unable to move quickly. Anticipating another blow, he simply allowed the earth below to swallow him. Warping stone as he made his way through the ground, he emerged a fair distance behind Thulemiz. Similarly to how he had first telekinetically slammed him into the ground, Ialu now tried to use his Wi to fling his foe around like a ragdoll, making him dance and twitch with invisible forces as if he was some sort of marionette. He tried to pin him down and pummel him into the ground. Helpless against Ialu's attacks, Thulemiz was flung all over the place and was pummeled into the ground many times. Though his armour protected him, there was only so much it could take and the pummeling eventually had an effect on both the armour and Thulemiz's body. Metal broke, and so did bones, but Thulemiz was experiencing pain far greater than the mere breaking of bones as his very soul interacted and welcomed the presence of the chaotic one's blood - even if diluted - into his body. Ialu's blood, being that of a demigod, also began fusing with that of Thulemiz and the hero's body reacted and began to change.
It was a very quick reaction, unlike Ialu's own reaction to Vestec's blood. This was largely due to Thulemiz's bodily characteristics and affinities - a hero of Vowzra, his body was capable of rapidly healing and repairing itself and dealing with any anomalies. Even as he was pummeled and beaten, his body began accommodating the new blood and healing the broken bones.
Once he had regained his senses, Thulemiz's body suddenly froze in the air, just as Ialu was bringing him down towards the ground once more. A low moan emerged from the levitating figure which slowly rose into a long chant, which then rose up even higher in a howl of rage. But the howl was short-lived and was very soon replaced by a maddened cackle. 'You have done it!' came his voice between laughs,'I'll have you now...' and with that, his armour suddenly exploded outwards, leaving Thulemiz in chainmail. The metal pieces rotated around the floating figure before each sped with terrific speed at Ialu. Thulemiz slowly descended to the ground, his eyes completely black and a strange, smoke-like vapour whipping out of them. His long white hair was marred with red here and there and was floating above him, and his beard was also floating upwards, as if the force of gravity was pulling it towards the sky rather than the ground. 'Come face me, puny coward, or are you more comfortable to wet yourself in fear nice and far from my vengeance? I do not blame you, puny creature, who would not cower in fear before the might of Thulemiz? Come here or stay where you are, you shall be crushed either way,' and with that, a spinning orb appeared in Thulemiz's left hand which was suddenly set alight with a blue flame. Lightening began dancing about it and steam emerged from it, and deep within it a molten metal core developed. The orb then shrunk and retreated into Thulemiz's palm, which turned completely black, along with the rest of his hand and forearm. With his sword of light in his right hand, Thulemiz leapt forward at Ialu once more, this time with speed far greater than anything he was capable of before.
This is serious. Really.
When his control over the weakling was suddenly broken and Thulemiz's armor exploded, Ialu barely managed to throw the flyign pieces of metal aside with his own magic. "What black magic is this?" he roared, before being treated to a short spiel. He laughed a little bit upon being called puny and accused of cowardice. Though now was no time for philosophy, the thought suddenly crossed his mind that the Fire God hadn't cursed him so much as offered a blessing. There was only so much that mere weapons could do, even his warspear. Without them, he had learned to manipulate and lead others to do his fighting for him, and to use Wi to kill from afar. He was no longer a crazed berserker.
Suddenly realizing that himself, he replied, "My warrior days are done. Many little fools like you have dared to challenge me, and now there are many little skeletons in the mud. I've matured, though. Why would I fight you when I can break you?"
That ominous warning went unheeded as Thulemiz then charged. Rather than give himself to the earth to move this time, Ialu gave himself to the air and water. Evaporating into a colored mist, the wind swept him up and he reappeared behind Thulemiz. With a mighty swing of his fist, he moved to strike Thulemiz on the head with the force of a landslide behind the blow. Thulemiz completely lost sight of Ialu for a few seconds, but then his heightened sense of chaotic energies alerted him to the presence of Ialu mere inches from him. He immediately hugged the ground (metaphorically) and the huge fist passed harmlessly above him, though the blast of air accompanying the deadly blow would have probably been enough to knock the average person over. Thulemiz had no time to be admiring his opponent's strength, immediately turning and stabbing upwards with his sword. At the same time, he opened his left palm and the orb from earlier emerged, speeding towards Ialu's chest at barely visible speeds. Upon contact, it would not harm Ialu so much as it would simply decrease his abilities as a whole. His speed would fall dramatically and his strength, his magical capabilities would suddenly feel capped and his body would not be as invulnerable as it usually was.
Dodging the sword was easy enough, though the orb of magic smashed into his chest and burst. Its effect was soon made clear; his own vast reserves of Wi were feeling drained, and he felt the rare sensation of fatigue in his muscles. He leapt backwards intending to soar a long ways, but overestimated his speed and strength. He barely managed to land precariously inside the high branches of a nearby tree, his balance also not what it was before. He outstretched both hands towards Thulemiz and from the tips of his fingers there shot blasts of unadulterated wrath. Taking the form of a strangely colored flame, the Wrath rapidly spread faster than any normal fire, consuming grass, tree, and even the air itself. The sudden inferno was of magical nature seemingly capable of incinerating almost anything; resistance to normal fire not affecting it. Thulemiz would be wise to escape before the flames licked him. The fires darted about quickly upon the ground and through the air alike, and Thulemiz was intrigued by this strange fire. He would have very much liked to experiment on it, test its limits and see if he could somehow emulate it - it certainly seemed like a nifty little thing to be able to produce at will. However, he thought it best to make some distance between him and it, sending a few black blasts of pure chaos energy into the fires. The corruption would seep in and the chaos would cause the fire to become erratic. It would turn upon itself, maybe even upon its master...
The wrath's fires did not discriminate in what they devoured and destroyed, and fanning them with chaos only made them more voracious. Seeming to be animated with a desire to destroy all life, the flames grew alarmingly large and rapidly spread to where Thulemiz had gone, chasing him. They quickly consumed several entire trees along the forest's edge, and some sparks even seemed intent of setting Ialu's tree ablaze. Fortunately, the flames' color was gradually dulling; soon they would become only normal flames. They had only been meant as a distraction, anyways. Watching the flames slowly cool into nothing but normal fire, Thulemiz could not help but feel a tad disappointed. 'Is that all?' he asked, his face crestfallen. He floated down among the flames, prodding at them with his Wi to see if they would become the lethal things they were before, but nothing happened. 'Is that...' his face turned towards Ialu upon the tree and it suddenly became dark with anger. The black mist around his eyes intensified and his eyebrows furrowed in rage. Black energies began circulating around him and his skin flashed black and red, the odd black bolt of lightening flying off and black sparks darting about. With his strange energies as leverage, Thulemiz suddenly shot towards Ialu, his left hand outstretched and his energies whipping about him, leaving a trail - much like that of a comet - in his wake. 'IS. THAT. ALL?!' he roared as he made contact with the demigod, his left hand grabbing him by the face and his energies continuing onward. Ialu found himself smashed through one tree after another as Thulemiz increased his speed and power. After the fifteenth or sixteenth tree they shot through, Thulemiz lost count and eventually ploughed Ialu into the ground where he stood over him, his furies driving him to stab Ialu through the upper left arm with his light sword. 'Show me your power! Where is it? Where are you hiding it. Give it all up. I will have it. I will have it all!' the sword then dissipated and Thulemiz grabbed Ialu by the shoulders and shook him repeatedly. 'GIVE IT! GIVE IT I SAY!' the champion of chaos had clearly become utterly crazed and was rambling off in his own little world about things Ialu most probably did not hear, and if he did, probably did not comprehend.
While the flames held Thulemiz at bay, the warlord was looking for some way to bring this to a close. He dared not come near for fear of the sword, yet this 'Thulemiz' was far more resilient than he had appeared. Feeling drained from the orb that had struck him, he had no confidence in his ability to win with mere magic.
He suddenly found himself overtaken by a surprisingly swift and enraged assault by Thulemiz. Through tree after tree he was driven, and though his bones were like steel they were strained beneath the forces that jarred them. In his weakened state he did not instantly heal as he once might have, and he felt his resolve and strength fading.
He contemplated retreat, but then expelled those treacherous thoughts from his mind. They were poison to him, vile weakness that undermined his fortitude. Though Ialu saw no way to win, he was not done yet. Surely this one had some weakness to exploit... With a great deal of concentration, Ialu summoned the Sight. At first he had been its slave, forced to follow the light, but now he was its master.
Ialu's eyes emanated a light that was blinding; they flashed golden with a radiance that made the sun's brightest rays look like a firefly's glow next to a raging inferno. Struck dumb for a moment as he always was the Sight's brilliance overwhelmed his vision, Ialu quickly recovered, though it would take Thulemiz a short while longer. They flashed just like the blinding light of his Sight or that of the being in his dreams; gleaming gold with avarice.
In that moment his eyes were blind, but no doubt the flash did as much to Thulemiz as well. With a moment to spare, Ialu told himself mentally, "I must have the sweet taste of triumph in my mouth..." The Sight sensed his intentions, and it would show him the way.
Now, with Thulemiz's thrashing ceased as he was blinded by the light and paralyzed by its power, Ialu rasped, "It was only a distraction. I saved myself for the storm."
One of his hands grabbed the man on top of him by the beard, while the other hand gripped Thulemiz's skull with a crushing grip, the hand big enough to wrap around the entire top of his head.
His vision came back. Thulemiz glowed a bright golden to Ialu's eye and his alone, as the Sight showed him the enemy. Not as if he didn't already see that. What was more important was that it silently spoke to him, bringing knowledge into his subconscious without him even realizing it. His eyes glowed green with envy for a brief moment, looking at Thulemiz and seeing all of his strengths and all of the ways that he was better, and filling Ialu with rage for it. Then they flashed golden again, but this time with pride: he saw weaknesses now. Thulemiz's thoughts were chaotic, volatile, passionate. The type that were dangerous and easily controlled. His mind would be his own undoing.
Ialu knew that the heart of the one before him was filled with weakness. Hatred for Ialu and others, fear of abandonment, fear of becoming a decrepit old man, greed and hunger to be great, and many other things... The demigod of passion had a strange penchant to judge others and see their innermost thoughts and feelings, though he had never consciously done it since now, and certainly he had never been so openly invasive about it. But this was a fight, and he needed this knowledge of his enemy's workings in order to exploit them.
Knowing Thulemiz's innermost thoughts and feelings made Ialu infinitely empathetic; he could see that they were not so different at all. He understood Thulemiz perfectly, and couldn't help but love him for it. But it was strange, to in one moment instantly know someone and in that very same moment do something that would most likely obliterate them and leave them as a broken husk of their former, beautiful, natural, human self.
Through Ialu's hand and into Thulemiz's mind and soul surged Ialu's will and his magic. Ialu twisted his foe's emotions, making them manifest themselves physically as a form of magic alien to all except the one that wielded it now. Thulemiz would drown in his own faults, weaknesses, and sins: any anger from Ialu's insults a moment ago would join in the pangs of anger from all of his past memories, forming a great cacophony of hateful voices that could drive one mad. His Hatred, the most destructive of things, would turn into ethereal, magical flames within his body and consume his soul like maggots feasted upon flesh. His Envy would gnaw at him, his Pride would blind him, his Fears would strike his very being and speak foul things into his mind. Essentially, Thulemiz was killing himself, or at least the combined manifestation of all the worst parts of him were doing it.
This mental assault was unimaginably merciless; not even the most cruel and sadistic of creatures could find it within themselves to wish this upon their worst enemies, at least in the moments that they felt it. As Ialu inflicted this upon Thulemiz his temporary empathy was infinite, and so he wept at the damage he was causing. No mortal or even divine mind was meant for this sort of violation, and so the horrendous attack would be nothing but a blur in Thulemiz's memory if he survived it. The sensory overload was such that one couldn't even imagine it, they could only feel it in the moment and never again recall the sensation in their mind. But that would not make it any easier to recover from; this sort of mental attack was the sort that would scar someone's mind and soul.
Overwhelmed, Thulemiz reached down towards Ialu and did a thing most strange. He hugged him. There was a time, just before Vestec had corrupted Zerabil, when such an attack would not have had any effect on him. He had reached a point of utter peace and harmony with his self and the world. He had expelled all fears and hatred, he had gripped his passions and emotions within his hands and made them his. He had become a stoic in the true sense, enlightened as far as one could be within the realms of the human body, and it was into the world of souls that he was slowly heading. The Chaotic One, however, had torn that perfected and honed soul apart and destroyed the perfect equilibrium which had developed, creating a complete disharmony. An unstable, impassioned and raging soul. It was that soul that now suffered and brought about Thulemiz's suffering. Yet through all that, his true nature, beneath the dirt and corruption of Vestec, shone through. And he hugged his opponent tightly. Then he was still, leaning on Ialu with all his weight. It was not clear whether he was alive or dead, but what was clear was that if Ialu moved, the man would crumple to the ground. The battle was over, this was clear, and both men lay in the most unlikely embrace that human history had yet seen.
After summoning forth and conjuring all of that on his enemy, Ialu pushed Thulemiz off and staggered back to his feet. Being linked to Thulemiz in those moments, throughout that attack he had felt everything that his enemy had felt, though it was undeniably easier to push through since he knew it was not truly he who felt such things. It was that knowledge that gave him the strength to bear it, even if only a few moments. He knew what needed to be done; the empathy was fading. It was still a gut-wrenching thing to do as the connection was not yet totally faded away, but reason returned to Ialu's mind, as did his own emotions. Anger. Fear. He struggled with himself, trying to find the determination to execute the helpless enemy.
Having staggered back to his feet and opened his mouth, this time Ialu summoned forth his own emotions, though he directed them outwards rather than inwards. Hatred, Ire, Lamentation, and all the most horrible of afflictions flew from his mouth in the form of a chaotic cloud of magic. He breathed them out of his mouth like a dragon breathed fire, and bathed Thulemiz in those. He would be devoured by negative energy, both from the inside and out.
In his state, Thulemiz saw nothing and heard nothing. The energies burnt at his skin and ate at his soul, but the chaotic energies already ingrained in his body and soul meant that there was only so much such an attack could do to him. As his skin charred and his damaged soul was further mutilated, Ialu at last grew weak in the stomach. He could continue this no more.
Channeling the rage and the ambition that made him strong, he pointed at Thulemiz and from his finger trailed a line of the Wrath. The flames easily melted away the armour and twisted and charred the flesh that they came into contact with. Ialu struggled to concentrate upon standing, much less think. He wasn't even sure whether he was trying to kill Thulemiz any more. In any case, the flame weakened before Ialu moved it upon the chest of Thulemiz.
The flames twisted and charred the flesh that they licked, though Ialu's shaking hand left Zerabil with only a large, jagged scar, rather than a hole burnt through his heart. The flames disappeared. For a moment the gigantic warlord simply stood upright, swaying in the wind, but then he collapsed.
The battle raged on as the Victors made their last stand. With the Vistoc users at what was once the front-line, the Strong Tribe warriors and their vassals coming from the left and the soldiers of Garakai coming from the right. Shields raised and swords at the ready, they tore down the waves coming at them, and they too were torn down. Thanks to their tremendous capabilities with Wi and Vistoc, as well as their military prowess and synchronisation, they held rather well. But against foes as strong as the Strong Tribe and those as well trained as Garakai soldiers, and with bombardment from the Vistoc users, even they flagged and took casualties. Each death was a catastrophic blow to the Order, for they all felt it as one. It drove them to fight harder and increased their determination to go down fighting like their brethren, but their determination did nothing to heal the gap left by each Victor who fell.
As another one of the Victors fell to Ryak's magic, the general barked out, "Spears! Now!" In unison, the two hundred or so hunters threw their warspears like javelins into the ranks of the Victors, then charged to join the vassal swordsmen that were already locked in a bloody melee. Most of the hunters mentally strained from the effort of using their telekinesis to fight, their fatigue was mental rather than physical; they would still fight well enough with their swords in close quarters. The regrouped cavalry from behind had now begun their charge as well, and they slammed into the Victors' rear. Many a lance breaking or being stuck in a slain enemy, they quickly switched to sabers and fought for a few short minutes before breaking off and rallying for a second charge; prolonged melee against infantry was suicide for any cavalry. The Victors continued their valiant stand-off agains Ialu's tribal warriors and their allies, and when the Strong Tribe's warriors finally joine the fray, the Victors visibly swelled out to meet them with enthusiasm, cleaving into them with blades and lightening. The cavalry charge did well in breaking the line of Victors momentarily before they reformed and bit back with fervour, only to have the cavalry withdraw. Before they could get too far, however, the Victors sent bolt after bolt of lightening towards them, and the earth before the horses rose up into spear-like spikes, facing towards them. From behind them came lightening, and before them spikes of earth.
A good deal of riders fell in that retreat, though staying in a close quarters fight would not have made them fare any better. Wheeling back around, the remaining ones charged at full speed. Those that still had lances tilted them, whilst others readied sabers, but their plan was to form a wedge and cleave straight through the Victors' formation, killing the tired and wounded in the middle before forcing their way through the other end and causing a great deal of havoc. The sheer momentum of their horses would be enough to push through and stomp on those beneath them, causing some damage. Raising their shields and reinforcing themsleves with Wi, the Victors facing off against the cavalry braced themselves, while those in the middle, sensing the danger, began to meddle with the earth below the riders, turning it to sand. No horse could charge on soft sand as easily as it could on hard earth, and the riders would find their speed invariably reduced.
The cavalry slammed into the Victors' shield wall, unable to drive through. Indeed, were it not for the sand that slowed them and the reluctance of their horses to press forward, they might have broken apart and been crushed in a shoving match between the inhumanly strong footmen and the horsemen behind them, pressing forward and eager for battle.
As it was though, a few lances and sabers found their way above or below shields, into throat, face, or legs. The warhorses themselves began to kick, stomp, and bite to aid their riders in the fight. Those that had been dehorsed eventually made their way into the midst and began to fight on their feet, though their sabers and light armor made them awkward and ill suited for that style of fighting.
Meanwhile, the Vistoc users advanced over the mounds of fallen to come closer to the Victors. From this distance, their attacks would be even more lethal and accurate. While the cavalry attacked the rear and the elite infantry the left and right, all manner of magic would now be brought down upon the Victors' front. The Vistoc users were joined by what Wi slingers remained. And with that, the Victors steadily began to fall and were pushed back bit by bit. Though they certainly did not let up, it was not long before their defensive circle was broken and those recuperating within were forced to fight off the hordes of enemies. With their formation breached, it was everything the Victors could do to remain orderly, though their great synchronisation ensured that even in their last moments, they displayed formidable focus and order. Eventually, there was nothing left but a handful of Victors. Injured and drained of energy, they fought off whomever they could before each and every single one of them was felled.
The enemy's wounded were tortured and the dead added as ornaments to the fields of mutilated invaders from years past. The greatest warriors were given cairns to themselves, though the vast majority were simply interred in great burial mounds carved into the flat grasslands by Vistoc.
Ialu was quickly found in a weakened state, his breath ragged, though he remained conscious. Still weakened, his wounds refused to heal faster than those of any normal man. The spiteful soldiers that found their leader in such a condition soon spotted the nearby Zerabil, that one clearly devastated by the duel as well, yet somehow clinging to life after an encounter with the warlord. That was certainly unusual, but it was an error that could be fixed. Before any of them could do much, the air around Thulemiz shimmered and six precise blasts of burning energy ripped towards the soldiers. 'Today you are Victorious,' a voice whispered - it was almost as though it was speaking right into their minds, 'but he who fights and runs away, will live to fight another day,' and with that, Thulemiz's body shimmered and disappeared completely.
Perhaps it was just his growing ability to sense his surroundings, or the Sight, or just divine eyes that could not be deceived by mortal magic. In any case, the stirring Ialu instantly saw the Silent Six as they came to take away his enemy. Any sympathy gone, he roared and shielded his nearby men from their attacks. At once he was on his feet and ready to fight, but then they were gone. The warlord turned his head and witnessed the devastation wrought by the battle. It had truly been a devastating clash, a battle for the ages.
The air around the silent Rejys and the felled Cassios shimmered, much like it had around Thulemiz, and two Seers appeared by each one of them. Silently as they had appeared, the two were gone, taking the Battle Brother and the Executioner with them. The Victors may have been destroyed and the southerners defeated, but this was merely a single battle in a war which had barely begun...
For now, however, the Strong Tribe had the helmets of hundreds of Vowzra's Victors to crown the spiked tops of their village's battlements. After a few days of rest, the remaining army ventured out to the homelands of the Confederate Tribes. With all their strongest warriors now slain, conquering those villages was no challenge. The few hundred camp followers to Thulemiz's army were taken by surprise when an army of northerners returned rather than their own host. Rounded up and taken captive, they would be resettled to replace the dead citizens, or perhaps simply enslaved. Ialu's thoughts now strayed back to Garakai, the dragons' treachery, and the seeming betrayal of Aztoc...
War with the Cimex would perhaps come eventually, though with his Vorks dead and army devastated Ialu would have to delay that invasion yet again. He would need to consolidate his holdings, rebuild his armies, and see about crushing any opposition and bringing Garakai under his grip again, yet this time for good.
Casualties:
Southern Army:
400/400 Citizen Soldiers
897/900 Confederate Tribal Warriors
500/500 Vowzra's Victors
Northern Army:
1993/2000 Slaves
15/15 Vorks
1/35 Dragons
53/200 Strong Tribe Warriors
277/500 Garakain Soldiers
157/300 Vassal Swordsmen
134/200 Cavalry
183/250 Wi Slingers
Total Casualties: 4494 Humans, 100 Uri, 15 Vorks, 1 Dragon
-Escre's holy sites, from now on, will be extraordinarily resistant to any kind of intervention or meddling with from other gods -He will also be able to create holy sites every turn without the restriction of having a cooling off period -He also has a limit of ten holy sites, unlike the usual five
Escre, the Great Spirit
It was with silence that they responded. Escre's plea rang through the empty spaces, it reached even the farthest expanses of the created universe. The powers guarding this new and vulnerable world did not need such a great plea to have heard it, but the desperation of a god was more difficult to ignore than the prayers of desperate mortals. Time was very depending on where one existed within the universe, but it was after the passing of the thirtieth minute that space began to bend and mutate before Escre.
'You plan, and We plan,' the voice echoed and emerged from the very sinews of the universe. Slowly, from the mutating and bending space emerged that same wisp-like existence from pre-existence. That power which had called forth the gods. 'And what is Your scheming and Your plotting before Our schemes and Our plots...'
Then silence reigned and the wisp hung there. Perhaps it was staring at Escre, perhaps it was waiting for him to speak. Perhaps.
Escre hung there, still as death. Had it been made with the capacity, it might have trembled in fear. To these cosmic beings, Escre was as a mortal to a god. Knowing full well that gods could take away as abruptly as they began, the Great Spirit hesitated to consider the oblivions that awaited it if it stepped out of line. "Since the beginning, I have endeavored to fulfill the purpose set for me. I created the Astral Home and made it possible for Galbar, the first world, to be filled with life. Vowzra, too, has done his part, and Undasis, and the rest. But the gods are flawed. One could make something wonderful, but the next could want to play with it, and the next to corrupt it, and the next to destroy. Nothing good can stay as long as there are gods too drunk with power and self-indulgence to contibute to a meaningful universe. My plan...is to eradicate the gods. To destroy their physical forms so that they are mere essences, capable of influence still, but ephemeral enough that mortals would be troubled to even prove our existences. To that end I have begun to stitch together the Pattern. The Astral Home and Forever Fall make two out of seven Seals."
"But even now, Chaos threatens to tear down this plan, and corrupt the entirity of Galbar. I know why Vestec came to be, how order and chaos are a balance in and of themselves. But Vestec has betrayed his purpose. What he is doing will leave only chaos in the universe, tearing down the balance forevermore. I would be unable to create life untainted by chaos. What I beg from you is power. The power to repulse Vestec and Astarte, his mindless minion, to restore the Astral Home, and to continue the creation of the Pattern. Once the gods cannot wreck havoc on the universe on the most petty whim, true marvels of creation can be made. I can perform the duty of every god, without ever giving in to self-indulgence. I alone am fit for this power. For this, it is in your most holy names that I pray."
The wisp hung there silently. It gave no hint at what it thought of Escre's words - in fact, could it think? It was simply silent for a while, until its response came. 'What makes You think that We did not wish for it be as such?' the echoes asked. But they waited for no response. 'I like those who have ambition,' and with that it disappeared and all things returned to what they were. Within the Astral Home a light shone and slowly began to pervade the holy site. The Fortress Bastion too experienced such a light, and that pervaded it. Wherever the light shone, the corruption within the Astral Home disappeared. The light worked slowly, however. The Astral Home's corruption would not be removed for a long while yet, a week in Galbar's time.
Escre would feel the change in his holy sites, and he would feel the strain from sustaining them suddenly gone. He had been gifted a thing most powerful indeed. If it had a mouth, the Great Spirit would have smiled then, for it knew that its plan had been blessed by the gods of gods. Knowing that even if Vestec were removed the corruption would still linger for a week or so, Escre began its slow trip back toward Galbar, and sent the Execrable Chaos a message. "Alright, Vestec, you've had your fun, but your corruption can go no further. Due to the Astral Home's connection to the spirit of every living thing on the planet, if you persist everything will be tainted, and I will be forced to recall all souls and eliminate all life on the planet. That wouldn't leave you much room to have fun, will it?"
- Lizzy is now called Tesvec, and has fully submitted to Astarte. - Roxan asks Astarte for a Dragon of her own. - Astarte offers her one of Tesvec's eggs and asks for something in exchange. - Roxan tells Astarte she'll think about the deal, and Astarte tells her to meet at the same spot at midnight.
"Now that's a good lizard!" She cooed in delight as the Dragon landed on the clearing in front of her. She had sent him on a flying trip and he hadn't even thought of escaping. They were definitely making progress.
"See, now I believe you've earned the right to a name, Lizzy. A proper name, worthy of you. Your new name shall be..." Astarte mused, putting a finger up to her lips. A second later, she smiled. "Tesvec."
Then the rustling of leaves caught her attention. She perked up and turned around, motioning Tesvec to stay still.
"I know you're there." She said with a raised eyebrow.
Roxan emerged from a tree banch, grinning. "Hello," she said, bowing at the waist, her fist over her heart. "You're one of the few I can't ever sneak up on, Goddess." She jumped down, gliding to land a respectful few feet in front of her.
"I suppose you already know why I'm here, yeah?" she asked, raising her own eyebrow.
"Yes-" Astarte said, tilting her head curiously, "though I'd like to hear you say it yourself, Roxan." She relaxed and chuckled.
"Alright, if you insist." she gave another bow before straightening. "I'd like to raise a dragon, and bond with it, like a sort of familiar, if that's even possible." She knew what she was asking would be a bit much to ask, but she'd do whatever the goddess wanted in return.
Astarte smiled at the courtesy, then shrugged at her petition. "It can be done, surely. I'd offer Tesvec here to you, but you mentioned you want to raise the dragon yourself." She tapped her chin and looked at Tesvec.
"Tell me, Tes, do you happen to have a couple eggs laying around?"
"I, uh... I-" He was cut off by Astarte.
"I know you have two. Last you saw them was a month ago, in your nest." She said and turned to Roxan, "There you have it, you could take one or all-"
"M-Mistress!"
"Okay, just one. What will you give me in exchange for the dragon egg?" Astarte asked and walked over to Roxan until she was a mere foot away from her. She's lucky I had toned down my aura for Tes, or she would be going mad right about now, she thought.
"Hint: I like interesting accesories." Astarte whispered as she pointed at her crown, the soul gem flashing a bright white for a split second.
Roxan grinned. "Indeed you do, goddess," she agreed. She thought, turning this over in her mind. Gods could be more trouble than they were worth, she knew this firsthand. But she’d always wanted a dragon.
"Tell you what, goddess," she said after awhile. "Let me think on this, and I’ll come to you with my answer in a few hours." She would come later, when the goddess was not around, and approach Tes about it. She hated it when creatures like him held a grudge against her. In fact, she just hated grudges at all.
"Oh, well. Don't keep me waiting for too long or I might just decide to feed the eggs to Undasis' Gigantic Sharks." She grinned. "I'm joking, of course. Sharks don't eat eggs." And with that, Astarte looked at Tes and winked. He knew what that meant, and so he sat on the ground. He'd be allowed to move once Astarte returned.
"I'll be back at midnight. Be careful with the nightmares roaming the forest, though I'm not sure if those things still exist." Astarte said and waved goodbye at Roxan, and then she disappeared in a whirlwind of dirt and leaves.
