Cauld Neth's Story

The God of the Dead watched with eerie pleasure as the battle continued. The Nightmare carved it's way through the undead only for more to rise up in the place of their fallen brethren. For every one that fell ten pulled themselves from the Underworld. A fate befallen many an adventurer, hero and demon alike. One Draugar was hardly a challenge for any skilled enough with a blade but ten of them. Twenty, fifty, one hundred, one hundred thousand. To be overwhelmed by the moaning forces of the dead as they come for your flesh was an end many have met to the silent approval of the Lord of the Void. The Nightmare pet of his sister was soon realizing its folly for its tireless work to eradicate the dead only served to bolster their numbers. The horde swarmed around it with wicked looking ancient weapons in their ghoulish hands. Axe's forged eons ago bit into the shifting form of the beast. Rusted blades made in forges long since forgotten to time stabbed the beasts writhing body. Nasty looking bludgeons struck the monster without mercy again and again. The beasts pain pleased the God of Death as he watched on without a word. With the constantly growing horde of the undead fighting beside him Cauld launched his attack with his newly formed blade in his hands. Back in the land of the Dead Arktorius ceased his vigil on the battle with Lilith's creature just long enough to hear his brothers call.

"Brother...YOU have done well brother...Without you, it may not have been possible that we stand in this accursed realm now. When we crush this realm, and the false goddess, the souls of the mortals shall fill your Void, for you to take. The soul of Mora is the only one i require..."

Baron Praxus' voice echoed in the mind of the Death God and a hollow smile of pride etched it's way onto Malakath's face.

"Dearest brother... As passionate as ever..."

He said aloud to no one, his words getting carried away in the cold winds of the Underworld. It was then that his eyes flicked up to stare off into the cold and snow as he sensed the approach of a figure he had not seen since his imprisonment. A celestial being of power that watches over the world. A being of light as well as darkness. The mothermoon herself.

"My Dark Lord, how I've awaited your return."

She spoke, her words a lusty cooing as only a lover can make. Her body adorned with a tantalizing black ensemble. So different from the elegant flowing white one she wore during Arktorius' imprisonment. Malakath's body shifted and became shadow as it darted toward her, speeds unimaginable the Moon Mother was unable to track it with her celestial gaze before he appeared before her. His massive hulking form so different to her lithe, curvaceous one. His hand rose slowly and cupped her cheek as he spoke.

"Luna..."

He said, his voice a dark whisper. She nuzzled her head into his hand tenderly.

"My King of-"

Her words were cut off as the hand that was lovingly caressing her cheek then sent her flying with a rough slap that wracked her body with pain. The Moon mother crashed into an ice mountain with such force, cracks shot up from the epicenter. She collapsed to the cold ground with a whimper as her body trembled in pain.

"You dare enter my realm after that thing you spawned from your womb called itself a God and took part in my imprisonment?"

Arktorious asked, his voice taking on a low and haunting ghost like tone as it drifted to Luna and enveloped her. She gritted her teeth in pain as the blood of the moon dripped from the side of her perfectly lusheous lips and stained the snow of the underworld.

"Words cannot express my shame Great Master of Death. With your absence I lost my way, lost myself. My daughter was a fool. Caylim is... No child of mine if she thinks herself your equal."

The eyes of the Death God glared at her suspiciously. Luna was always much too afraid of him to betray him but during his imprisonment the lack of his dark influence left her free to make her own choices, and her choice was to ally herself with her daughter and the New Gods. She would need to learn her place.

"A fact you can prove to me, in time for when I take Caylim Grace's soul you will have the chance to tell her yourself. Now... what to do with you?..."

He asked forebodingly as he slowly made his way to stand before her. She looked up at him with wanting eyes as her demeanor took on a much more sensual nature.

"Your stresses must be great my Lord after all those years cooped up in that blade, allow me to show you what won me your favor upon our first meeting."

She said seductively as she ran her hands up his thighs to his chest. She started to rise but his cold grip on her shoulder halted her.

"For that.... You should remains on your knees..."

Conall

Any chance of someone explaining things was a lost cause the wolf had decided. So much he did not understand was taking place and he was smack dab in the middle of it all. Just earlier he was enjoying the pleasantries of a little village, now he was experienceing the horrors of Hell it seemed. Maybe he was going mad. Never had he seen such creatures before: living ooze a screaming swrod.. What had he done to witness these things? He was quickly regretting his prior hopes in discovering something new. That which he first thought to be a miraculous blessing had quickly spoiled.

He watched with a grimace as the unmatched battle took place. Ears laying flat upon his head as his legs remained locked. It wasn't only fear which kept him still. Like a patient watching their doctor perform upon them, he was sickly curious to see what would happen next, knowing that even this may be his last hours. The battle, if you could call it that, was horrible and fast. The man, he assumed was insane, went down quickly, playing a fountain for his own blood. He assumed the ink-like creature had some sort of psionic abilities, from the way it spoke and seemed to attack without attacking. Things were definately going downhill. So much for a walk in the woods, so much for getting lucky, no he had to deal with some crazy bastards and living, overpowered jelly..He was getting a headache.

Tearing his eyes away from the others, they flit over to the woman. What was it about the female species that always had to make things complicated?

Changes.

The undead kept coming. Nox could kill them all day, but it was boring. Instead he sends a message to Lilith, and turns to focus on Cauld.

Got yer second wind, eh? Should have stayed down kid. Might have survived. the being sighed into the mind of Cauld, simply watching the man rise, filled with new power it seemed. The armor's damage revealed a human eye amidst all the monster ones- and showed a critical flaw. Timing had to be perfect, aim had to be beyond that. Nox could pull it off though. Let's play a game I invented. It's called Choroidal Melanoma. Here is how it goes..

Nox waited, the other rising and charging- reckless, the actions of a fool. Not bothering to plant his mass before swinging the sword had left the human with a wide open gap in his defense, one Nox planned on exploiting. The sword's magic cooled the air, both before and within it's wake, this would have been swell should the fool prepared his swing better. As it were the beast had an easy solution for the clumsy strike.

With a wet sound the being splits- dividing along the path the blade passes, separating Nox into two halves. Unexpected as this move is, the man's wind swing would pass through and beyond Nox...and into the ground below. The human had no doubt expected impact...resistance from the mass of Nox...but with there being none the wild swing would carry onward, as the charging form rushes to harm Nox. In missing so fully, and in not stopping his head-long rush, Cauld had screwed the pooch- the sword would become stuck in the ground for even a moment, as the forward momentum of it's wielder would push it's point in slightly deeper. Stopping the rush. This would also require the man to pull the sword free, a simple action- but one that would take even a second to accomplish, before bringing it to bear upon things once more.

Divided as it were, the two halves of Nox remained connected through a shared link- It was still one mind, one being...just divided; Left Nox and Right Nox.

Already however the halves were in motion.

As sure as one knows time stops for no man...time had not stopped as the fool swung and missed, his steps carried him into a carefully planned trap...that sprung just as his exposed left eye was in range.

Right Nox(Cauld's Left) twisted into a spire and extended. Faster than an average arrow's shot, faster even than those cumbersome blunderbusses the Dwarves worked on, the spike of mass snapped upward...on a direct path into Cauld's eye. Even should the human somehow dodge the killing blow of taking a spike through the eye and into the brain, Nox was sure to leave a mark. The sharpness of the twisted point was immeasurable with even the finest glasses Atherea possessed- one would need higher tech to see the microarray of ridged edges and sharp scales coating the spike. Even a glancing strike would be enough to shred steel like paper.

But what of the zombies?

Lilith had heard the whispered message of her servant, and nodded a slight agreement. It was time for her to dirty her hands.

While the horde of undead may have posed a challenge for a monster even such as Nox..they were leaves in the wind once Lilith got rolling. Wet sounds fill the air, as an extra pair of arms erupt from her sides, her long legs fusing into an armored serpentine body while her wings slid out further to become a set of bat-like limbs. She was grinning savagely as she turned to face Conall with a wink.

With a scream of pure joy she fell into the throng of undead, her powerful limbs sweeping through groups of two or three at a time. Mighty sweeps of her tail took away heads, limbs and torsos with the barest of effort. While she was a goddess of passion and sex...one should never forget that violence and passion, violence and sex...the all share a thin red line. Lilith was that red line.

Far to soon, and far to easily she was done...twitching heaps of flesh and bone littering the ground about her, as she pouts, "They always finish before me..." her voice husky with restrained emotions. Killing always got her excited..and left little to satisfy her. A pity. Her eyes find Conall again...he DID want to get lucky before, she thought with a grin.

Conall

As if things weren't bad enough, now he had to deal with living corpses? The once pleasant air now reeked with the smell of decomposition. He snorted and shook his head, but nothing could be rid of the overpowering stench. He had just about had enough of this. Things were already out of hand, now even the earth seemed to partake in the joke, belching out a continuous flow of death. The ink-being, of course, seemed to have no problem fighting off the horde. Not much could be done against something which had no flesh, he guessed. Though, with the amount of dead which was sprouting, he wasn't sure the creature would be able to handle them all- which sucked for Conall because he didn't want to go anywhere near those things. It took a bit of time, but it seemed he was finally able to absorb his recent situation- he was in Hell. That was all there was to it and now that he understood his predicament he could react justly. His legs, though a bit shaky, found movement one more and took to slowly retreating towards the woman. In the event that death wasn't eminent, at least he had the possibility of something good coming from this. Who knows, maybe acting as a bodyguard or savior of somesort would score some points. Chicks were always grateful for a little help here and there and rewards were a beautiful thing.

However, to the wolf's dismay, it seemed she too would partake in the nightmarish scene. What once was a body of awe-inspiring beauty transformed into a terrific daemon of somesort. He yelped as she sped pass him and threw herself into the mix. Her violence left nothing unscathed and her laughter quickly overcame the disgusting wet moans of the once more dying dead. He slumped watching the mayhem take place, all fantasies of the woman shattered. She wasn't just some beauty, or a simple summoner, she was a beast herself. Why couldn't things just be simple for once? No, the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon was also the most terrifying.

"They always finish before me..."

He shivered at her comment. Hints of sex coming from that body..was awful. Just awful. He could never have sex again witnessing what he had today and that angered him greatly. As if women weren't already enough of a pain in arse, now every female he'd come across he'd have to think twice if they were some sort of horrific beast or not. He watched the twitching displays of meat which surrounded the female in a mixture of awe, disgust and fear. He really hoped he wouldn't be added to bloody soup. It was then she locked her mischievous eyes with his and his insides twisted. Then again there were worse things..

(Sorry for the delayed post)

Cauld watched the creature split and his sword smashed into the ground. It was stuck pretty well. He knew he had to get free quick but he was connected to the sword physically. He struggled, grunted, and cursed at his lack of thought. Then it happened before Cauld even knew what was happening. The spike of the half creature shot towards his eye. It stopped for a second pressing against a magic barrier. As he watched the spike his eye twitched and his pupil contracted to a tiny dot. The spike pierced the barrier and shot into his eye, through his brain, and out the back of the helmet. The spike retreated unleashing a spray of blood from the hole and taking his eye with it. Cauld dropped to his knees then to his face as blood pooled around body. His Void Mantle stopped glowing the blue runes then burst into blue fire slowly burning away to black dust. Cauld's last thought was still of his foolishness and how he'd never should have challenged the god. The last breath left Cauld's body in the pool of blood. Void Splitter rested in the ground it's eyes closed and the magic fading.


The Void
Cauld's spirit sat next a pillar of ice his back leaning on it. His knees were brought to his chest and his arms holding them. All his tattoos were gone, his skin had returned to its original pale alabaster white, and his one eye was now just regular blue no longer burning with magic. The now gaping hole of his left eye cried a waterfall of crimson blood down his cheek. He no longer had clothes and he was freezing cold. He sat there staring at the permafrost of the ground eternally feeling the foolish regret he had at his death. Soon a brilliantly white fox came and stared at him. Cauld looked at the fox and sighed.

"What do you want fox? What would anything want with this fool?" He looked back down sighing again.