Post by Xsut'Ja on Dec 24, 2006 0:51:20 GMT -5
The Searing Nucleus
Xsut'Ja, the Harbinger of Pain, stood upon a large, burning platform in the heart of the planet. The air was visibly hot, and the air near the core itself caught aflame, much as the stone in the area. It burned, as bright as a star, and almost as hot. A single platform hung over it, allowing anyone standing upon the nearly molten rock to peek over the edge and look down at the smooth, bright orange orb. The rocky path wound up and away from it. It was narrow to permit the rock to cool enough to avoid becoming molten like the rest of the region. But that bothered the Firelord not.
"You grow restless. Only a thousand surface years ago, you brought about the destruction of an entire continent. Do you seek to bring about the destruction of another continent, merely to appease your ego? Here you are feared. There you are seen as a travesty to the gods, and they make you their target. Do you truly wish to go?"
The figure that spoke resembled a towering wall of flame, clad in strange, blackened armor, with a matching helm. The armor and helmet were adorned with wicked-looking spikes that had no practical purpose -- no living being ever touched the Firelord. He was the master of the heart of the planet, the heart that churned and burned. He fought wars with every elemental race on the elemental plane, yet fashioned his home on the Plane of Fire after his one in the physical, living world. He glared down at his heir and aggressive son. He was an equally impressive behemoth, of living fire with wisps of darkness swirling about him. He held, in his hand, a three-pronged spear the same dark red hue as his father's massive hammer. These two dominated the entire Plane of Fire, despite there having been three Elemental Lieutenants of Flame in the olden days. The other two tore each other apart as the last remaining lieutenant, Sulfuras, laughed.
"Well, my brash little pyroclasm, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Darkness beckons, Firelord. Both of Ne'Vi and of the hearts of Man. I will corrupt more, and I shall relish in every bit of it. I will slay them in your and my name, and the world shall tremble once more. Vrdeg was an experiment. We have the reaction of the Elemental Lords. This time, the race of Man and the sub-race of Orc will worship me. If they do not... by fire be purged."
The Firelord grinned at the response, as much as an entity of pure fire can. Without a word, he simply floated back into the burning core from which he had emerged, to surround himself with the beating heart of the planet. Knowing his son, he would bring about a final assault on the Waterlord before he emerged onto the Mortal Plane. 'twould be an interesting display, to say the least.
The Shroud of the World
With a bang, the second Firelord emerged on the Plane of Shadow. He towered above the worthless shades that scattered at his sudden appearance, and his shadow-shrouded, burning appearance made all keep their distance. He stood not far from the Queen of Shadows, Ne'Vi, the undisputed overlord of the Plane of Shadow. A figure, not much taller than an elf, clad in shadow with a long, flowing robe to match her long, flowing hair. Two red eyes, a sharp contrast to her fair skin, turned to regard the intruder.
"Yet again, Ruin, you enter my domain and scare my peons away. Yet again, Ruin, you disrupt their work. Must I whip them again, or have you learned your lesson yet?"
The always-silent plane, disrupted by its Mistress' words, strained to hear as she spoke, then quickly fell silent again. The only movement in the massive area that surrounded her throne of bone was the swirling flames of the 'intruder'. Awkward seconds passed as servants and slaves glanced at one another, unsure of what to do, as both the 'intruder' and mistress burst into laughter. A short laughter, that, as soon as one of the sycophants started laughing, ended. The Firelord spoke next:
"By Hell's sweet Lint Golems, by the Void's Many-Eyed Cow, by the Ocean's Dragon Ferret, and by the Wind's Dread Platypus, I have not! I come to reclaim my Army of Darkness, Shadow Queen."
Ne'Vi chuckled ever so slightly as the pillar of fire made strange gestures to accent his insane rant, and shook her head.
"Always with the cliches, Shadowkhan? Your Army of Darkness has hardly moved. Of that you are aware. What do you intend to do with it?"
"Make the world tremble, my Queen."
"Send another continent to the bottom of the ocean, for the Water Elementals to toy with?"
"Perhaps."
"Then go. I love the look on the Neptulonian's face when a continent falls on his head."
The Firelord grinned as much as his father could, bowed, and shuffled towards the entrance to the hall. Where he had been standing even the shadowy floor had caught aflame, and the fires spread to every location he stepped on. Before long, shades were casting themselves on the fire to put it out and fade into the floor, only to be reborn moments later, having found a very slight use for their queen, which only pleased them.
Out of the hall, a shimmering portal greeted the Firelord, flanked by his army. The Firelord turned to his right, to regard Itliel the Slayer, a shadow elemental that hovered several inches above the ground and, despite glowing purple, appeared to be a stereotypical ghost.
"Itliel, I want to enter the world once again with a bang."
The voidwalker would have shifted its weight between his feet if he had them. He reached out with his mind, probing for answers to his questions.
Where, Firelord, would you like to go?
Somewhere near Orsinium. I care not. Just not that city itself.
Date, Lord? I have a novel idea to terrorize the populace.
Acceptable. Let's do this.
So, without hesitating for even a second, the Firelord strode into the portal, his army rushing to follow him. Itliel would've laughed if he could, but he couldn't, so he glided his pulsating purple self over to a scrying crystal, where he'd watch and then act.
Your Unpredictability is Killing Me
The world burned, and churned inside the mountain. Darkness and heat overcame all other senses, dulling feeling and hearing. Were they not given a temporary protection against the Firelord's rage, they'd be burnt into nothingness.
Suddenly, the earth shook, heaved, and exploded. The top third of the mountain exploded, showering the surrounding area with a deadly wave of rock and ash, wiping out all life within miles. Lava flows erupted, hurling the Firelord and his army down into the valley, where the area was once dominated by a lush forest. Still more lava defiantly shot out at the ocean, a blind assault on the Waterlord's domain.
After nearly an hour of being unable to control his course, the Firelord and his army came to a halt as the last bit of power of the lava flow diminished and faded away. They were left in an area covered by several inches of ash and dust, inhospitable to even the dead. Grinning, the behemoth rose and stretched his wings out, as he hadn't done in many a year. Drawing his sword from its extra-dimensional home, he turned towards his men and rammed it into the ground. They looked much different than they had on the Plane of Shadow, just as he did. His towering body of flame was replaced by a demonic body, with the remnants of wings and a long, sleek tail extending past his two legs and out behind him, lashing one of the fallen, grey trees.
He regarded his men, many of whom had literally followed him from hell. They were an assortment of demonic creatures, from satyrs to hellspawn themselves, carrying a crude but effective assortment of weaponry. The most common of which was a cruelly hooked longsword, which most of them had handled in battle, where they'd proven their worth against mortals.
"My Army of Darkness! We have arrived once more at the Human realm! We shall travel north, get our bearings, and find a near city. We shall make them worship me again! As the Vrdeg before them, this realm shall obey me!"
Many of the creatures rose and cheered at him, for they had been worshipped as demigods by the Vrdeg, and pampered almost as much as the Firelord and Shadowkhan himself. Without another word, the army fell into formation and began a long, silent trek to the north, where they'd find what awaited them. Just where, in the Nine Hells, had that floating imbecile Itliel placed him? This didn't look like Orsinium or any surrounding area, but, by the Gods, how could he recognize it even if it was? Ash was up to the ankle at some places, and it was hard to avoid breathing it in. But it didn't bother him. He had grown accustomed to the smell and taste of death, only as one who creates a deadly mist can.
Not a single creature was met for miles. It was obvious that they had managed to travel far from the volcano and far from the ash-encrusted land in a single day, but how far would their feet take them? A battered signpost pointed to the north, reading "Date - 2". Two days, two weeks, two miles, what? It mattered not. The Army and its Overlord were feeling nothing but energy. For the better part of a millenium they hadn't set foot on the mortal plane, and now, by all that smolders and dies, they were going to make it worth it. What's a ninty mile march overnight to beings that needn't fear death?
Gradually, their pathing began to rise, and soon they were overlooking the town from a cliff. It was Date, this overrated place far from the capital of Orsinium. But, was it worth it? Who named their city Date, anyway? Was there a Time nearby?
A satyr walked towards his Overlord as Xsut'Ja looked at the town, rubbing his chin in wonder at what he could do. He regarded the satyr, who stood, silently, waiting to be acknowledged. Xsut'Ja nodded to him, and he began.
"Shadowkhan, if this is Date, it is not far from where our Agents stored methods to create the plague. In fact, it may be in a nearby cave. It would be wise to ---"
"If it's near here, then you needn't convince me to search for it, X'thun. Take Rym as your Second and divide up the army, leaving a hundred here to help me find a basecamp and set up. Go. Now."
The satyr bowed, and ran off back into the army, finding the one named Rym and assigning men their duties. Before long, the Army of Darkness was swarming across the hillside, finding firewood, chopping down errant trees, and searching for the plague materials.
Ninty-nine bottles of triple-cherry 'shroom on the wall, Ninty-nine bottles of triple-cherry 'shroom on the wall...
Later that night, in the camp of the Army of Darkness, in the mammoth tent dubbed the Chateau d'Shadow by a drunken satyr, the Overlord stared down at an iron-and-oak table, covered with maps. He scowled at it, wondering why the plague materials hadn't been discovered. They'd been placed within a quarter mile of his location. What were his men doing?
As he began wondering how to punish X'thun, Rym came running into the tent, saluting him and breathing heavily. He began to spew his thoughts:
"Ravager, we have found the materials. The maps were wrong. They were nearly half a mile away, and it was only by taking a wrong turn that I found it. I apologize for my failure and report success."
"Were you not reporting success, I'd punish your failure. Bring the materials here, unbroken, and I shall consider rewarding you for your actions. And find me a herald. Now."
Has Your Innocence Faded Yet?
The satyr muttered something incoherent and rushed off. A herald rushed in, saluting the Overlord and awaiting a response.
"Herald, go to Date and announce yourself as the Herald of the Forgotten One. Have them send an envoy or herald or a useless politician to the hill we passed, where I will meet with him. Understand? Good. Get going."
The herald had long served the Harbinger of Pain, and knew that it was enough to merely bow and rush off to carry out his duty, so he did just that. But what would the result be. He rushed across the camp, pulled his cloak tight about him, and hopped on top of one of the horses they'd taken from a far-off stable, originally as food. The last one was a fairly healthy, white horse, who happened to be incredibly fast for the herald. What was he, Kerzit, doing as a herald, anyway?
He approached the city, his cloak close about him so the guards would, with luck, not know he was a demon. He hardly looked the part, anyway, being little different than a human with a slightly bronzed appearance. He hailed the gate guards, who had left the gate closed, for whatever reason.
"Hail! I am the Herald of the Forgotten One, Qune'Caj! He would like to speak to an envoy on the ridge to the south! What say you?"
Xsut'Ja, the Harbinger of Pain, stood upon a large, burning platform in the heart of the planet. The air was visibly hot, and the air near the core itself caught aflame, much as the stone in the area. It burned, as bright as a star, and almost as hot. A single platform hung over it, allowing anyone standing upon the nearly molten rock to peek over the edge and look down at the smooth, bright orange orb. The rocky path wound up and away from it. It was narrow to permit the rock to cool enough to avoid becoming molten like the rest of the region. But that bothered the Firelord not.
"You grow restless. Only a thousand surface years ago, you brought about the destruction of an entire continent. Do you seek to bring about the destruction of another continent, merely to appease your ego? Here you are feared. There you are seen as a travesty to the gods, and they make you their target. Do you truly wish to go?"
The figure that spoke resembled a towering wall of flame, clad in strange, blackened armor, with a matching helm. The armor and helmet were adorned with wicked-looking spikes that had no practical purpose -- no living being ever touched the Firelord. He was the master of the heart of the planet, the heart that churned and burned. He fought wars with every elemental race on the elemental plane, yet fashioned his home on the Plane of Fire after his one in the physical, living world. He glared down at his heir and aggressive son. He was an equally impressive behemoth, of living fire with wisps of darkness swirling about him. He held, in his hand, a three-pronged spear the same dark red hue as his father's massive hammer. These two dominated the entire Plane of Fire, despite there having been three Elemental Lieutenants of Flame in the olden days. The other two tore each other apart as the last remaining lieutenant, Sulfuras, laughed.
"Well, my brash little pyroclasm, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Darkness beckons, Firelord. Both of Ne'Vi and of the hearts of Man. I will corrupt more, and I shall relish in every bit of it. I will slay them in your and my name, and the world shall tremble once more. Vrdeg was an experiment. We have the reaction of the Elemental Lords. This time, the race of Man and the sub-race of Orc will worship me. If they do not... by fire be purged."
The Firelord grinned at the response, as much as an entity of pure fire can. Without a word, he simply floated back into the burning core from which he had emerged, to surround himself with the beating heart of the planet. Knowing his son, he would bring about a final assault on the Waterlord before he emerged onto the Mortal Plane. 'twould be an interesting display, to say the least.
The Shroud of the World
With a bang, the second Firelord emerged on the Plane of Shadow. He towered above the worthless shades that scattered at his sudden appearance, and his shadow-shrouded, burning appearance made all keep their distance. He stood not far from the Queen of Shadows, Ne'Vi, the undisputed overlord of the Plane of Shadow. A figure, not much taller than an elf, clad in shadow with a long, flowing robe to match her long, flowing hair. Two red eyes, a sharp contrast to her fair skin, turned to regard the intruder.
"Yet again, Ruin, you enter my domain and scare my peons away. Yet again, Ruin, you disrupt their work. Must I whip them again, or have you learned your lesson yet?"
The always-silent plane, disrupted by its Mistress' words, strained to hear as she spoke, then quickly fell silent again. The only movement in the massive area that surrounded her throne of bone was the swirling flames of the 'intruder'. Awkward seconds passed as servants and slaves glanced at one another, unsure of what to do, as both the 'intruder' and mistress burst into laughter. A short laughter, that, as soon as one of the sycophants started laughing, ended. The Firelord spoke next:
"By Hell's sweet Lint Golems, by the Void's Many-Eyed Cow, by the Ocean's Dragon Ferret, and by the Wind's Dread Platypus, I have not! I come to reclaim my Army of Darkness, Shadow Queen."
Ne'Vi chuckled ever so slightly as the pillar of fire made strange gestures to accent his insane rant, and shook her head.
"Always with the cliches, Shadowkhan? Your Army of Darkness has hardly moved. Of that you are aware. What do you intend to do with it?"
"Make the world tremble, my Queen."
"Send another continent to the bottom of the ocean, for the Water Elementals to toy with?"
"Perhaps."
"Then go. I love the look on the Neptulonian's face when a continent falls on his head."
The Firelord grinned as much as his father could, bowed, and shuffled towards the entrance to the hall. Where he had been standing even the shadowy floor had caught aflame, and the fires spread to every location he stepped on. Before long, shades were casting themselves on the fire to put it out and fade into the floor, only to be reborn moments later, having found a very slight use for their queen, which only pleased them.
Out of the hall, a shimmering portal greeted the Firelord, flanked by his army. The Firelord turned to his right, to regard Itliel the Slayer, a shadow elemental that hovered several inches above the ground and, despite glowing purple, appeared to be a stereotypical ghost.
"Itliel, I want to enter the world once again with a bang."
The voidwalker would have shifted its weight between his feet if he had them. He reached out with his mind, probing for answers to his questions.
Where, Firelord, would you like to go?
Somewhere near Orsinium. I care not. Just not that city itself.
Date, Lord? I have a novel idea to terrorize the populace.
Acceptable. Let's do this.
So, without hesitating for even a second, the Firelord strode into the portal, his army rushing to follow him. Itliel would've laughed if he could, but he couldn't, so he glided his pulsating purple self over to a scrying crystal, where he'd watch and then act.
Your Unpredictability is Killing Me
The world burned, and churned inside the mountain. Darkness and heat overcame all other senses, dulling feeling and hearing. Were they not given a temporary protection against the Firelord's rage, they'd be burnt into nothingness.
Suddenly, the earth shook, heaved, and exploded. The top third of the mountain exploded, showering the surrounding area with a deadly wave of rock and ash, wiping out all life within miles. Lava flows erupted, hurling the Firelord and his army down into the valley, where the area was once dominated by a lush forest. Still more lava defiantly shot out at the ocean, a blind assault on the Waterlord's domain.
After nearly an hour of being unable to control his course, the Firelord and his army came to a halt as the last bit of power of the lava flow diminished and faded away. They were left in an area covered by several inches of ash and dust, inhospitable to even the dead. Grinning, the behemoth rose and stretched his wings out, as he hadn't done in many a year. Drawing his sword from its extra-dimensional home, he turned towards his men and rammed it into the ground. They looked much different than they had on the Plane of Shadow, just as he did. His towering body of flame was replaced by a demonic body, with the remnants of wings and a long, sleek tail extending past his two legs and out behind him, lashing one of the fallen, grey trees.
He regarded his men, many of whom had literally followed him from hell. They were an assortment of demonic creatures, from satyrs to hellspawn themselves, carrying a crude but effective assortment of weaponry. The most common of which was a cruelly hooked longsword, which most of them had handled in battle, where they'd proven their worth against mortals.
"My Army of Darkness! We have arrived once more at the Human realm! We shall travel north, get our bearings, and find a near city. We shall make them worship me again! As the Vrdeg before them, this realm shall obey me!"
Many of the creatures rose and cheered at him, for they had been worshipped as demigods by the Vrdeg, and pampered almost as much as the Firelord and Shadowkhan himself. Without another word, the army fell into formation and began a long, silent trek to the north, where they'd find what awaited them. Just where, in the Nine Hells, had that floating imbecile Itliel placed him? This didn't look like Orsinium or any surrounding area, but, by the Gods, how could he recognize it even if it was? Ash was up to the ankle at some places, and it was hard to avoid breathing it in. But it didn't bother him. He had grown accustomed to the smell and taste of death, only as one who creates a deadly mist can.
Not a single creature was met for miles. It was obvious that they had managed to travel far from the volcano and far from the ash-encrusted land in a single day, but how far would their feet take them? A battered signpost pointed to the north, reading "Date - 2". Two days, two weeks, two miles, what? It mattered not. The Army and its Overlord were feeling nothing but energy. For the better part of a millenium they hadn't set foot on the mortal plane, and now, by all that smolders and dies, they were going to make it worth it. What's a ninty mile march overnight to beings that needn't fear death?
Gradually, their pathing began to rise, and soon they were overlooking the town from a cliff. It was Date, this overrated place far from the capital of Orsinium. But, was it worth it? Who named their city Date, anyway? Was there a Time nearby?
A satyr walked towards his Overlord as Xsut'Ja looked at the town, rubbing his chin in wonder at what he could do. He regarded the satyr, who stood, silently, waiting to be acknowledged. Xsut'Ja nodded to him, and he began.
"Shadowkhan, if this is Date, it is not far from where our Agents stored methods to create the plague. In fact, it may be in a nearby cave. It would be wise to ---"
"If it's near here, then you needn't convince me to search for it, X'thun. Take Rym as your Second and divide up the army, leaving a hundred here to help me find a basecamp and set up. Go. Now."
The satyr bowed, and ran off back into the army, finding the one named Rym and assigning men their duties. Before long, the Army of Darkness was swarming across the hillside, finding firewood, chopping down errant trees, and searching for the plague materials.
Ninty-nine bottles of triple-cherry 'shroom on the wall, Ninty-nine bottles of triple-cherry 'shroom on the wall...
Later that night, in the camp of the Army of Darkness, in the mammoth tent dubbed the Chateau d'Shadow by a drunken satyr, the Overlord stared down at an iron-and-oak table, covered with maps. He scowled at it, wondering why the plague materials hadn't been discovered. They'd been placed within a quarter mile of his location. What were his men doing?
As he began wondering how to punish X'thun, Rym came running into the tent, saluting him and breathing heavily. He began to spew his thoughts:
"Ravager, we have found the materials. The maps were wrong. They were nearly half a mile away, and it was only by taking a wrong turn that I found it. I apologize for my failure and report success."
"Were you not reporting success, I'd punish your failure. Bring the materials here, unbroken, and I shall consider rewarding you for your actions. And find me a herald. Now."
Has Your Innocence Faded Yet?
The satyr muttered something incoherent and rushed off. A herald rushed in, saluting the Overlord and awaiting a response.
"Herald, go to Date and announce yourself as the Herald of the Forgotten One. Have them send an envoy or herald or a useless politician to the hill we passed, where I will meet with him. Understand? Good. Get going."
The herald had long served the Harbinger of Pain, and knew that it was enough to merely bow and rush off to carry out his duty, so he did just that. But what would the result be. He rushed across the camp, pulled his cloak tight about him, and hopped on top of one of the horses they'd taken from a far-off stable, originally as food. The last one was a fairly healthy, white horse, who happened to be incredibly fast for the herald. What was he, Kerzit, doing as a herald, anyway?
He approached the city, his cloak close about him so the guards would, with luck, not know he was a demon. He hardly looked the part, anyway, being little different than a human with a slightly bronzed appearance. He hailed the gate guards, who had left the gate closed, for whatever reason.
"Hail! I am the Herald of the Forgotten One, Qune'Caj! He would like to speak to an envoy on the ridge to the south! What say you?"
