Morthos's Story

The city was burning.

Batallions of dark devils, clad in hellforged steel, armed with cruel venomous blades, and formed from malice and Order marched through the city.

Mobs of fiery demons, frothing in madness, screaming in murderous rage, rampaged through the streets.

Chaotic demons and lawful devils clashed in a perpetual riot in the Damned City, creating a waxing and waning tide of power that was neither harmonic nor discordant - and yet both. Their very natures warred against each other like water and oil. The bodies of fallen fiends in various states of decomposition decorated the sidewalks and alleyways. Boiling blood drifted through the gutters like rivers. Every few minutes a desiccated corpse would vanish in a puff of smoke, only to precede the deafening battle cry of a freshly respawned fiend in another part of the city.

Thousands of damned souls cowered in piles of refuse, huddled together in corners, or took part in the mindless slaughter - if only to stave off the boredom of eternity. These were the heretics, pagans, and apostates that dared to curse the name of the Creator through either words or actions - or stand against their own societies as sowers of discord. A constant drone of wailing screams drifted from the Pyres of Haeresis while the looming Temple of Erebuz towered over the city like an ever-watchful tyrant.

This was the City of Dis - the Circle of Heresy.

This was the City of the Damned - the sole metropolis of Hell in all its terrible glory.

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A massive figure floated above the highest tower of the Temple. He emanated an aura of absolute authority that dripped with malice and power, and a living darkness cascaded across His body like an ever shifting tide. Every muscle was like black stone chiseled and polished to unparalleled perfection, yet it was marred into something incomprehensibly wrong. Smokey black wings sprouted out from His back and made flapped lazily to keep Him aloft. They constantly shifted between the beautiful ebony plumage of a raven to the mangy leathery wings of a bat. Two large horns curled above His brow while eyes-

Eyes... His terrible eyes. They pierced through the accursed light and suffocating darkness of the city's damned and drilled into the deepest corners of their souls and minds. The endless Void itself reached out from them - sucking them into His gaze like the blackest abyss of the deepest and coldest ocean. They looked upon the mere mortal souls and simple-minded fiends that dared to even consider being in His presence. A mere glimpse into their depth reflected endless knowledge and limitless understanding of all that was, is, will be, could have been, and could be. The penetrating gaze burrowed through the city and all was laid bare before Him.

The eyes of a God fell upon the City of Dis and all its entities. He Knew. He Understood.

The Lord of Dis smiled.

"Morthos." He Spoke. His Voice resonated with a cosmic power that caused the shadows to quiver in both fear in reverence. It echoed the death of countless worlds and the woeful cries of a trillion souls dissipating into Nothing.

A creature of flame and shadow materialized beneath Erebuz. It was twice the stature of a man, but was still dwarfed by the glory of his Master. Morthos was covered in a hard scaly hide that was the color of hellfire. Two gnarled horns curled above his head while two glowing crimson eyes watched the city below them with a ruthless cunning. Bat-like wings flapped behind his back. A simple brown loin-cloth along with an array of bones and skulls were the only coverings for his body. Morthos held a large spiked mace in his clawed hand.

"Yes, my liege?" Morthos responded. He dared not speak his Master's Name. Such an honor was never bestowed to him, regardless of his countless millenia of servitude.

"It is time." The Lord of Dis stated.

"Your will be done, my lord." Morthos smiled wickedly, revealing a set of razor sharp teeth and fangs that dripped with sizzling venom. He raised his mace into the air and opened his maw in a deafening roar that resonated through the city.

And the City of Dis responded. Tens of thousands of demons and devils stopped in their tracks and looked up to their lords. They raised their bloodied claws, blades, and maces into the air and echoed Morthos's call with their own thunderous battle-cry that shook the Sixth Circle - and the rest of Hell - to its foundations.

The Dark Legion had been called to War.

Morthos, the Scourge of a Thousand Skies, smiled upon the hosts amassed before him. The deafening drone of countless wings - leather and gossamer - thundered through the realm like a growling hurricane. Hordes of rampaging demons stampeded across the ashen ground while a legion of armored devils marched at their heels. Darkness and flame scarred the earth as it trembled.

Packs of balguras galloped apishly at the front. The hulking demonic orangutans pounded their fists into the earth like hooves. Spittle ran down their drooping tusked jaws while their eyes burned with savage madness. Goristros, towering four-armed minotaurs, lumbered through the sea of demons. Their upper arms resembled massive pincers, while their lower arms ended in clenched fists. Dark intelligence burned in their eyes even as large palanquins filled with raving dretches adorned their backs.

The rhythmic thunder of hellforged iron followed the demonic stampede. Ranks upon ranks of red-skinned devils marched shoulder-to-shoulder with wicked glaives clenched tightly in their gauntlets. Fiery red tendrils spilled out from beneath their helmets like beards. Long reptilian tails swayed in rhythm to the drum-wielding imps at their rear.

If the sun dared to shine upon the Cursed Realm it would have been blotted out by the wretched black demons that infested its sky. The air reeked with death and horror as flocks of gnarled humanoid vultures circled the army below them. They continuously unleashed ear-splitting shrieks in their eagerness for blood. Chasmes, unspeakable crossings of humanoids and flies, flew beside their carrion cousins. A sickening drone rumbled from the combined might of their wings like an approaching thunderstorm. Flocks of spinagons, armed with forked spears and razor sharp spines, flanked the aerial horde. Their sharp eyes peered through the fire and ash of the realm and kept watch over the fiendish army as it marched.

Morthos glanced to his sides where several hooded figures stood behind him. His honor guard, clad in black plate, observed the Dark Legion as it marched deeper into the realm. Oily black wings were folded across their bodies like cloaks. Finally, the Dark Lord turned to address the one to his right.

"Is everything in position?" Morthos demanded.

The figure merely nodded in assent.

"Good." the pit fiend sneered. "Inform the Muhari that it is almost time to strike. Tell them that, when the shrieks of the vrocks and the roars of the balguras begin to echo across the sands, the honor of first blood will fall to them."

The honor guard nodded once more before spreading its raven-like wings and taking flight. Its ebony armor gleamed in the hellfire even as it shot through the air like a bolt of black lightning.

"Come!" Morthos roared as he and his remaining guard spread their wings. "Let us show these foolish Princes the true might of the Dark Legion. Let us show them the folly of standing against the Emperor and all of His glory!"

"For the Emperor!" they cried in unison before taking flight.

Morthos stood at the bank of the Phlegethon. His tyrannical shadow cascaded over the writhing current that contained the shrieking and wailing souls of those consumed by violence in life. He sneered at their misery even as they skittered and slithered away from his fiendish presence. The archdevil glanced to his sides, where his honor guard - ten erinyes, all fallen angels of the Blessed Realm - stood at attention. The demonic vanguard roared and howled behind them. They could sense the climax of the hunt, and their barely contained savagery was only held at bay by the primal fear invoked by Morthos.

Despite their chaotic nature, the demons dared not defy the pit fiend. His word was law, and disobedience was met with a swift and painful death. The consequences were made clearly visible to them - testament to the mangled and dismembered balguras that now drifted through the boiling blood of the Phlegethon.

Morthos's fiendish eyes peered through the red haze of the river to look upon the gnarled and twisted forests beyond. He could feel the silent wailing of its inhabitants - and the dozens of eyes already being drawn to his presence.

It was time to act. The lust for battle could no longer be contained.

Morthos, the Scourge of a Thousand Skies, stepped into the Boiling Phlegethon without a care. He spread his massive wings - casting a shadow over the churning waters - and lifted his mace above his head. The pit fiend opened his maw and unleashed an ear-splintering roar that thundered across the Circle of Violence.

A cacophony of shrieks tore through the air as the storm of vrochs and chasmes surged across the reddened sky towards the Wood of Suicides. The darkened cloud of demons swooped downward towards the ranks of centaurs. Their ominous chorus of wails gripped the air like a noose while the spinagons unleashed a hail of deadly spines and javelins. Meanwhile, Morthos and his detachment of fallen angels shot across the churning waters like bolts of lightning.

The call and roar from the invading army was met with silence. An eerie, unmistakable silence that something was waiting for the army of Erebuz. What they couldn't see was what awaited them. High above in the skies, companies of Harpies flew with claws and teeth ready to rend those who tried to rise above the clouds of the circle.

A Legion of Centaurs rested at the far end of the river, bows raised high with one Commander standing infront of them "Today we devend this Realm from the Invaders. We have trained hard for this day, this one singular battle. Today we prove to our Lady that we are her unyielding soldiers and we will cause as much damage as possible. Ready!" She said and the legion of Centaurs raised their bows high. Their arrows however, were rather different. They wore special gloves with white runes on their tops and were holding Holy Arrows in their hands. "FIRE!" She exclaimed and they loosed the volley of arrows over the river and headed straight for the invaders. Where Eve managed to get Holy Arrows in Hell, no one could say.

Scores of flying fiends fell from the sky as the two barrages collided like swarms of rapid insects. Yet, even as their numbers thinned - another flock took its place. The centaurs' volleys clashed against the demons like a ferocious tide battering against a cliff. Layer upon layer of demons were shed from the mass, but it steadily churned ever closer to their positions.

While the aerial divisions advanced, Morthos and his guard dove, spun, and rolled to evade the volleys. The armored erinyes evaded the missiles with the grace reminiscent of the High Heavens. Some were even daring enough to bat the arrows aside mid-flight with a well-timed backhand. However, a few of the blessed arrows met their mark and caused the dark angels to stagger in their flight. While most recovered immediately, one unfortunate erinye's wing was pierced - causing it to come crashing down into the river with a sickening crunch and scream.

Morthos and his guard quickly approached the first island. The pit fiend snapped his wings open to slow his descent as he unleashed a primal roar. A bead of flame shot from his finger and expanded into a massive fireball that consumed the center of the archers' line. The earth shook as he landed in the dissipating inferno. Before the dust could settle, Morthos lashed out with his mace, tail, and claws upon any centaurs that were unfortunate enough to be within his reach. The erinyes landed at his flanks and struck against any remaining centaurs. Their hellish longswords flashed like blackened lightning and struck like vipers with their venomous edges.

When the island was cleared and the centaur guardians either slain or fled, Morthos peered across the river and studied Violence's defenses. He sneered in contempt at the centaurs' pitiful attempt to curb the endless tide of demons that poured from Heresy. It would only take a single command, and within hours the sky would have been blotted out by their numbers. Who in this realm knew that Morthos had the combined forces of three planes at his command? Tartaruz, the Abyss, and the Nine Hells of Baator all answered the call of the Dark Legion. They all heeded the command of The Unweaver.

Morthos merely smirked as he watched the demons fall like rain. They were doing their duty and occupying the enemies' attention and resources. Yes, he could call upon the full might of the Dark Legion and simply swarm over their defenses like locusts, but why not allow them a little hope?

Let them squirm and wallow a shallow victory until it is too late to see the jaws that have surrounded them...

"But..." Morthos said as he spread his wings and rose to his full height, casting a dark and twisted shadow across the earth. "... Let us ensure that neither of us will go silently into the dark. For every four steps we are pushed back, we will carve our way through five."

"Shebtaan vonah shebta'ai... Abkömri vonah velheit, kelrassen, wa'und aschaad... Davalru dyla shtadfan wa'und himfod mitaal zoxares!"

Morthos's shadow grew with each syllable of the incantation until it stretched across the entire island. Suddenly, the black mass lurched from the earth and formed into a gargantuan titan that slowly rose and towered over the pit fiend. Its body was forged of rolling darkness that churned like a chaotic sea. The creature's eyes were like pits into the endless void that focused upon the centaurs on the opposite bank with detached callousness. After a moment's thought, the titan stooped down and drove its hand into the earth. However, instead of pulverizing the ground, its hand dissolved into a pool of darkness that burned with black fire. The creature returned to a standing position with a large coiling sphere of darkness gripped in its hand like a bowling ball. A tremor shook the earth as the titan stepped back and tossed its encumbered hand backwards in a pitching stance. Finally, with a burst of movement seemingly impossible for a creature of its size, the titan launched the ball of darkness towards the opposite shore with a deafening crack.

The dark orb tore across the river like a meteor - leaving a shockwave and contrail of black lightning in its wake - before it slammed into the opposite shore. An ear-shattering explosion shook the ground within a dozen meters of the impact as a storm of black flames erupted around the crater. However, these flames were neither warm nor burned. They were as cold as the ninth circle, icy as death, and seemed to devour all light within its grasp. Everything that bore any semblance of life withered, blackened, and died in its presence.

Two words echoed within the mind of Morthos minutes after summoning his titan of darkness: "You Dare....?" For a moment the entire titan quivered and rippled like the surface of a lake in which a stone had been tossed. However after only a few seconds, a man appeared beside the Demon Lord, a man of unyielding darkness. Darkness blackened only by the presence of Erebuz himself.

He wore a large military overcoat, his black hair was combed back, and his eyes gleamed red like pits of the deepest part of Hell. He lacked a shadow; it wasn't that he was standing in someone elses, and simply didn't have one, or that there was no light on him. It was that he was Shadow.

"You dare summon such a creature without.......inviting me?" He growled, not moving from his position. Any attempt at retaliation to his presence would merely pass through his body and be covered in a black, goo-like substance that would proceed to fall off whatever it had clung to, and squirm its way back to his body. This man.... He reeked of Erebuz; almost as if the Unweaver himself had smothered him whilst in the midst of a wrestling match. However the only expression he had towards said Unweaver was contempt.

Finally walking forward, boots crunched the ground as he looked to the skies and took in a deep breath. His own body seemed...mist like, though again, when touched, would revert to the goo-like substance. He let out a long, growling sigh as he turned to Morthos, beginning to mutate hideously as wings began to spread from his shoulder blades. "I will clear a portion of the Shoreline for your armada."

And with that he was off, darting straight for the clouds.Once in the air he then darted straight for the Darkside, gritting his teeth as his eyes began to glow. There were so many Shadows here; so many that he could steal. As he flew low and fast over the surface of the river, Draco pulled the shadows from the Centaurs without their slightest knowledge, growing in size and shape whilst his Draconian body began to take form, wings spread wide and tail snaking back and forth slowly as if to rudder his course. As his body grew to its full sized, his maw widened and he let out a massive, thundering roar that rippled the water of the very river for miles upon miles up and down the water, and echoed and rumbled the very air itself.

With a great flap of his wings the entire River halted for a mere second while his body rocketed sky-ward once more in a sort of backflip. Then it adjusted course, and whilst folding his great wings against his body, Draco corkscrewed down until the slammed into one of the fortifications upon the beach, his body splattering like that of a wad of snot against the windshield of a moving car.

And for a while it remained that way.

Then it began to stir, bubbling and oozing and shifting around as if a heat had been lighted beneath it. Bolts of purple lightning roared from the surface of what was left of his body and from it rose many figures, all formless at first before taking the appearance of some of the most hideous demons ever seen, wielding axes and swords and maces of all shapes and styles. For awhile they marched like zombies to and fro across their spawning place, but as soon as they found their enemy; the enemy of the Unweaver; they began to moan, scream, groan, hiss, roar, and bellow with the pain of a thousand souls being snatched up at once and silenced forever, charging their enemies weapons flailing and bodies hardening for devastating blows that were strong enough to tear damn near anything half with a single swipe.

And in the center of it all stood the same man that had appeared behind Morthos not five minutes before, a smirk upon his face.

The Centaurs kept on firing, hell bent to halt the line of advancing aerial combatants with fervor and gusto. The leader of the Centaurs continued to rally her troops by shouting words of encouragement. They had been training for this for two years. Honing their skills, testing their mettle and their resolve. They did not waver nor did they cease their actions for even a moment. Pride beamed through the army as their holy arrows halted the advance of the beasts from above and with the army so far away, having to need hours to reach them: They felt like that had the upper hand.

Even as the huge ball of chaotic magic and fire rained down upon them, taking out at least a few hundred of their number, their resolve did not waver nor fault in its stead. But then, the glop of Dragon landed upon them and the demonic shadows began to form and charge. This was ahead of schedule and they didn't have much time to react. Several fell to their onslaught but they had anticipated for the enemy landing on the shores. "Retreat!! Phase two!!" The leader yelled and at the same time, the Centaurs halted their firing and as one fled into the trees of the Woods of Suicides. Their first task was done and now it was the turn of the Woods's denizens to carry on the task. Once inside the tree cover, a runner was dispatched and given a small stone by the Leader of the Centaurs. Something was going amiss in this conflict and they needed to alter their strategy. The Lord of the Circle had to be consulted. But at once, the arrows stopped flying.

All around the armies, the screaming of the dying and the damned: There was a very odd thing. While the screams and wails would normally be loud and as clear as day, the air shifted, a light breeze flicking past the host and the screams all fell silent. It was a deafening silence and the ground underneath their hooves and claws started to become a shade of grey. To the untrained eye, it was nothing. But to those who could see it, the color from the world was being drained away. The color moved towards the Abominable Sands.

The seemingly endless cloud of flying fiends doubled its pace towards the shore as soon as the arrow barrage ceased. Now that the centaurs were no longer present to quell their ever-swelling numbers, the storm would block out the sky above the river within hours.

Morthos took Draco's appearance in stride. He had heard tales of the latest edition to the Dark Legion's ranks. The pit fiend sneered at the destruction wrought by the shadow dragon's incredible power. Clearly, he would be a useful tool for the Emperor - and a worthy weapon for the Dark Legion.

He looked up to the sky to see his armada swarming overhead. Morthos sent a telepathic command to secure the opposite shore and await reinforcements. The command echoed through the ranks, and within moments the entire flock resumed their flight across the Phlegethon.

Morthos spun on his heel and knelt onto the sand of the island. He placed his mace on the ground and inclined his head towards Dis.

"My Most Honored Master..." he communed. "The river's forces have been scattered, and we are ahead of schedule. I beseech you for aid, great God-emperor and Lord of the Void, in order for your army to cross the channel..."

"My most loyal servant..." Morthos's body quivered in ecstasy as his Master's voice reverberated in his mind. "Hearken, and look now upon my glory. Gaze upon the power that so easily brought your former master to heel!"

The earth shook on Heresy's side of the river. Demons screamed in terror as every shadow quivered in both fear and reverence. A deafening roar sent tremors through the air as a pillar of black flames erupted from the ground. Scores of demons were obliterated by its touch. The flames slowly churned as the dark miasma took form into a monstrous titan.

Its flesh, likened to onyx chiseled to perfection, was blacker than a moonless night. Muscles the size of boulders flexed like steel beneath flawless skin - skin marred with countless scars that blended seamlessly together like paint on an artist's canvas. Two gargantuan wings spread out from the titan's back and cast an endless shadow upon the river. Raw and pure darkness cascaded over the appendages and covered the glorious ebony plumage like a shroud. The wings would gradually shift from the magnificent wings of a raven to the mangy ones of a bat, and then back again with a barely perceivable transition. A pair of horns, like charred mountains, protruded from the giant's forehead, but its eyes... His terrible eyes... They were blacker and deeper than the most crushing abyss. A thousand eternities rested within their depths, and they radiated an unfathomable power that would give most deities pause. Those all-knowing pits narrowed their gaze upon opposite shore of the Phlegethon, pierced through the Wood of Suicides, brushed aside the storm of the Sundering Sands, and looked upon the Temple of Paradise Lost.

The Avatar of the Dark Emperor Erebuz, the Great Unweaver and Destroyer of All Things, sneered in amusement.

Erebuz, without breaking His gaze from the Temple, lifted His clawed hand to waist height with His palm facing upward. With the slightest flex of will, the great elder-god caused a large chunk of rock with several lesser demons on it to be ripped from the earth and float above his grip. The demons flailed as they and the rocks drifted helplessly in orbit around the central chunk. They gradually spun faster and faster until they began slamming together at blurring speeds. Though the demons were all dead, Erebuz clenched his hand slightly and they spun even faster. However, though the velocity increased, they were drawn inward towards the massive stone. Soon only a cloud of gore and dust were left of the demons, yet Erebuz continued. He clenched again, and the maelstrom in his palm glowed from the invisible pressure. Blood ignited form the heat while bone was crushed and rock melted.

Yet the pressure intensified.

A deafening roar thrummed above His palm as the on-looking demons and devils gazed upon their Master in awe. Now the ball of molten dust and flesh was merely a sphere of super-heated matter that continued to spin at Erebuz's whim. It was only with the barest of will that He crushed the sphere of turbulent matter. A strong breeze blew around the elder god now, centralized upon His creation, that steadily grew into a whipping gale. Suddenly, with a thunderous crack, the ball ignited into a blinding light that burned like a furnace. Even the closest demons screamed in agony as their flesh ignited from the heat and boiled from the radiation...

They fled from the young star that was born in Erebuz's palm...

Yet the pressure intensified.

The burning white-hot star was only the size of an elephant now, yet it burned with the same fury of the fiendish creatures it was forged from. A moment passed, it shifted blue, and then to red, yet His will on the celestial object was absolute. With a growl that sounded like mountains shifting, the God-emperor flexed His hand one final time - and the star died with a scream as it was crushed by His power. The sphere vanished, only to be replaced by a coin-sized void. Suddenly the powerful gales increased tenfold as the circle of darkness expanded millimeter by millimeter.

Finally, with a flick of His wrist, Erebuz tossed the black hole a hundred meters away over the Phlegethon.

"Come forth, my servants." He Spoke. "It has been too long since you have witnessed the Realms of Light. Come forth, my beloved Erebim, and pillage the cosmos once more!"

Several looming black shapes slid out from the crushing darkness of the void. They were vessels, floating just above the river's surface, and black as starless space. A score of them emerged from the black hole, one by one, until they were erected in a line by the shore. The hulls hummed with an eldritch energy that was foreign even to the Cursed Realm. Finally, hatches opened and ramps made of the strange black metal slid onto the beach - allowing the demonic army entry into the transports.

The Avatar of Erebuz smiled as His gaze remained fixed on the Temple. Once the vessels had fully emerged, He folded his massive wings and vanished like a cloud of smoke in a strong gust of wind.

The color, now moving at a feverish pace, began to drain away from the circle. The sands and waves of the river and beach underneath Morthos's feet began to turn to a brittle lifeless grey and black. The sea that now stretched before him was black as a moonless night. Eve was rushing and the screams of agony coming from her could be heard throughout the Circle.

The lands of Violence had seen better days. The world was lifeless and grey, and not an ounce of color remained upon the Circle's landscape. But as it was grey and dull, a voice boomed out from the Sands

"By all means!! Enter my Sanctum!!" She yelled as the River rocked and groaned as the width of it instantly shrank to that of a running stream. The woods crumbled as if made of dust and the sands flattened down to the bedrock. The entire plane was flat as a plateau with a lone figure standing at the far end. Eve, wielding a long staff of bark and a single dagger in one hand, with arms crossed, waited patiently for the armies - and Erebuz by extension - to begin their charge. No more tricks. No more traps and surprises. Eve was ready to finally end this battle.

Thrum thrum thrum thrum thrum...

Thrum thrum thrum thrum thrum...

And it came to pass that after the flattening of Violence, Morthos commanded his legions to abandon their vessels and march across the scorched wastes of the Sundering Sands. He marched at its head, mace hanging over his shoulder and gripped tightly in his clawed hand. His honor guard of fallen angels marched at his side, clad in hell-forged steel and cloaked by their black feathered wings. The horde of demons charged across the landscape like a tide of chaos. Balguras, goristros, and glabrezus rampaged across the sands while several legions of armored devils marched lock-step behind them. Tens of thousands of demons blotted out the the sky as they sang their discordant song of despair and woe.

Slowly, the thick overcast of demons began to form a spiral in the sky. The flock spun like the eye of a hurricane, guided by a maelstrom of chaotic eldritch energy that further darkened the sky like a depthless portal to the Void. Finally, with a roaring thunder clap, the Dark Emperor Erebuz emerged from the eye of the storm like a meteor.

His massive wings snapped open as He slammed into the ground. The earth shattered beneath the weight of His malice, sending bits of bedrock and torrents of sand shooting in all directions for a hundred meters. He stood, kneeling on the ground, as a maelstrom of darkness churned around His avatar. Suddenly, two bolts of black lightning dropped from the heavens and landed at His sides. Erebuz wrapped the ends - handles - in His titanic grip and ripped the two gargantuan blades from the earth.

The blades of the twin greatswords were blacker than the darkest black hole, and one looking closely could glimpse eternity within them. Those uncomfortably close to His swords would feel a strong breeze being sucked into the weapons.

"C̸̶̱͖̦͉͙̹̝ͤ͆ͦ̑̎ͨ̐̄͋͞g̦͚̙̈́ͣͦͬͧ̆ͨͯ̀͢Ò̵͚̣̲̝̺̔͂͟͠ͅn̵̡͈͈̗̠̠͊ͥ͐͛̒͐Ṁ͙̣̖̰̜ͫ͗̽̇i͌͆͐́҉̖̫̫͠Ë̵̸͇̜̰͕̗͔́͑̾n̲̳̓ ̥̙̥̯̮͗͌ͭ͒̈́ͮA̷͙̥͙̫͈̒̄ͭͯ́ͅo͕̰̗͔͉̻͙̟̞̎͒N̯͍̗̺̱̰̤̝̘̎̉̅̕ḳ̢̭͗̑̓̓̋̌̾͑ͅD͈̐̂ͯ̄ͧ̊̾͑ͪͅc̤̰̗͉ͪͣ̓̿̓͑̐͘ ̪̞̭̰̝̝̘̼͉̈́ͧ̉̚͜M̗̼̯̺̞̼̅ͪͬͣͮ̓ȇ̡̬͙̠̙͛ͫ͒̇̊Ḙ̪̜ͮ̏̌̾ͬ̓̎ͧ̆͘r̢̺̭͇̼̘̟̭̐̃͟͡Ě̴̳̫̻̃͠͞r̢̞̗ͥ͐ͥ͂͜Ṯ̳̓͊̔͊͒ͦ̓ͅu͍̟̎̈́̋̐ͪ͑ ̻̓̍ͪͫ̊ͭͧ̎͡͞Ȳ̱̺̞̊͒o͖̊̇̎́ͩͮ̚͞O̜͍ͣy̸͙͓̰̲̻̺͉̠̪̔͌̿ͩ̈́ͭ͂͜Ṳ̴̲͛ͥ̍̈́ͥ̌ͨ̿ͅť̷̗͓̠̱̥͚̥̹̭͒̌̒͆͂̕̕R̙̬ͣ͗ͨ̉͊́̃̒̋e̲̜̼̬̖̠̻͊̃̃͑̇̍ ̨̲͔̬̭̗̩̟̉͋̓ͮ̈́R̜̤̲͓̣ͨͫ͝é̠̻̇͜Ě̡̪̣̯̺͈̗̘ͥ̆͌͒͘m̦̳̞̜͖ͪ́͒̄ͫ͌̏̊ͫ͘͟C̉̓͐ͥ͌ͧ́͜͏̬̗̙͔͎̠͍͍d̡̹̻̮̰͕̉̆ͣ͗ͧ̽ͩ͒Ḱ̬̺̱̲̬̅̇͡n̮ͬ̐ͥͨ̄̍ͩ̈͢O͔̪̰͋̒̐͊͡ͅa̖̳͚̥̯̫͉̋̔̌̀̚̕Ņ̝͓̉̓ͪ̿ͩ̆͑ͣͨͅe̴̙̗ͤ́͂̓̍ͦ̉I̸͈̹̠̥ͣ̽̋m̸̗̥͍͎͛̇͘Ṋ̵̠̥͊̑̔̔ͧ̕͟ó͓̤͓̗̓̓̀G̵̢̯̞͇̖͋̈̋ͦ̾̓́c̸͓̹̪̖̫͔̙͙͍͌ͦ̑ͤ̚!̛̪̭̟̤̃́́" Erebuz thundered as He spun His blades.

Eve stood, unwavering and unflinching at the great show of power from the Elder God. Confidence radiated from her form, bristling with untold power and potential...filled with Hope. A hope that there will be a brighter tomorrow as the Light of Creation surrounded her...and she felt her Father's love. She took a single step forward, then another and another until she was at Erebuz's form then.... side stepped Him.

She completely ignored His challenge and continued to walk past Him "Before we fight... There is something of an annoyance I wish to deal with first. Since I know you care nothing for them... Why should I?" She asked and faced the army now charging towards them and raised her staff high.

"G̙̲̟̠̗̭̞̈̓͋ͧ̀ͨ͐̎̒ṵ̶̜͕̞͉ͯͧͮ͆ͦ̎̋̔͢r̋ͭͩ͑̍̒̿͟͏̰͖̰̙͝z̶̰̭͇̖̺ͮ̍̌͑͛͂͆̈́ͅ ̛͖̪̹̤͍̰̅͌̆̌ͬ̾ͅl̺̪̤̦̓̐ͅa̪̝ͨ̎͜ͅş̶͖̮̯̙͓͔̥̯͚ͣͥ͒̊̽͟ ̶̨̰̻̖̲̀ͯ͟ͅU̴̥̙͕̟̝͍̩̔͑̓̽͆̈̿͡͞k̝̑ͦ̑̔̌͡ ̲͓̤̦̜̟̒͜n̵̢̤͚͖̟̳̩̄a͎̮̗̹̲͒̄̏̉ͣͤ̏̔͢͡͡z̵͎̼̲͖͈͎̤̭̺̒̀̒͒͞ ̻͕̞͈̳͗́ͬͥ̈́T̡́̂ͬͮ̉ͩ́̚҉͙̻͍i̛̻͎͚̯͓̘ͥ̓ͮ̑͟͡ŗ̞͊̏ͥ̇͒ͨ̌̅͢d͇̮̯͚̝͊ͫ͆͠ö̵̧̦̣̘̞̣̞́̓ͮ͂ͮ̂͐̋ͪr̛̝̤̰̳̬̖͓̓̊͂̇͋̎́ǘ̷͚͉̦͓̊̂̎̊͊̅̚͠z̵̪̳̗̦͋ͩ̌ͧ͑͢ ̨̋̅͒ͨͩ͊̍҉̟̦̫̬Ķͫ̔ͤͦ҉̢̘̻̼͇a͒̎̍ͨ̐͛́͏̰̩̥a͑͗̉҉̻̼͈͇͔̲̠̫̺z͓̘̞̤̖ͭͫ̇̐͗͑͑̚͞g̴̯̥͓̳͓̰͇̒ͪ̆̂r̸̯̎ͧ̐͆̐ͫ͑̿ͬe̢̝͉ͫͤ͗͡D̫͕̩͕̙̭̱̒̑̈́̑̋ͧa̡̢̳̗̖̖̳͔͍̥ͮ͐̌ͤ̅̃ͥ̓̀m̟͕̤̞̥̙̗̭̉̓͗̿̾͂͛͊ͅḙ͖̪̭͈̰͛ͯ̀̕d̡͍̯̲̓̄ͣ̆̑͞ạ̲̠̣̬͉̾́͡ͅͅsͨ͌͆̈͛ͣ͑҉̠̮͙!"

The words ripped through the air,. The foul unheard words erupted from around her as she slammed the staff's butt into the ground. A wave of necrotic energy fueled by the sum of all of the power of Violence washed over the army, both high and low, like a wave. The demons, devils, abyssals eroded into dust and ash and broke upon the wind. The winged demons overhead evaporated, clearing the skies that were darkened. The hordes of soldiers charging alongside Morthos disappeared in a sea of blackened ash and debris. Armor and Weapon were not spared as the entirety of Erebuz's forces were laid to waste there up on the ground.

Morthos braced himself against the tide of energy. He roared in defiance as he crossed his arms over his face. Suddenly, the hurricane winds forced a single wing to snap open, and he vanished over the horizon. As the tide made its way towards Draco, he merely closed his eyes and accepted his defeat. As uncharacteristic of him it may be, he knew when he was bested; whether it be in battle against a singular opponent, or against something that he at the moment could not possibly comprehend the limits of. And with his own power locked away within his body back in the land of the living, he had no hope of trying to fend off this attack. And so, he simply began to break apart, and fade away, flake by painful flake, into the Abyss.

Erebuz merely pursed His lips and brought His blades forward. They spun in his hands like twin whirlwinds of shadow. He had felt the titanic wave of power and was sure He could push through unscathed, but something was blocking His perception of the Great Weave. A great cataclysm was coming, and He wanted to be ready for it. So He spun His blades, and the energy directed towards Him was simply sucked into their blackness - and ceased to be.

Eve then nodded to herself in approval of her work as the transformations of her body receded. The demonic form and beauty faded away while the blue flame in her right eye socket became fleshy as a normal eye but a brilliant blue. Claw and horn and blackened skin evaporated - leaving Eve as she had been made so many eons ago. A woman of purity wielded the stone dagger, coated in the blood of her former husband, and a branch of the tree of Eden.

A bright smile took hold of her face as she stared at the lord of Shadows and Chaos as she took on a more defensive stance, holding the staff outwards ready to parry His oncoming blow. She would give Him one chance - just one - before ending this fight all together.

"Now that your army is nothing but ash and dust...I'll give you a chance to strike me. I am pure, I am as I was... Surely you could defeat me alone, couldn't you?" She asked with a sickeningly sweet, warm smile on her face "My dearest Brother......"

"Impressive." He sneered. "I sense your second wind will finally bring me a challenge. It has been a long time since I have swung my blades... Let us see how well you fair..."

Before He finished uttering the final syllable, Erebuz shot forward in a blur. A scar of distorted space followed in His wake before He suddenly vanished in a puff of smoke. However, He materialized behind Eve just as quickly as he disappeared, swinging one of His blades down upon her pelvis with a blow that would crush a mountain.

Eve was prepared for this. Trickery and deceit were always in the portfolio of the Unweaver. She spun to meet His blade with the dagger. The force of the impact stopped cold. The blow was easily matched by Eve - who just smiled then tisked at him three times. She then lifted up a little and flew backwards as the force resumed and landed on her feet. She then stood proudly and raised her staff again before bringing it down to bare as several powerful beams of light fired from it in His direction. Then she followed it up by slamming her staff down into the ground. A shockwave of holy Light exploded towards the Darkness. Eve was simply waiting - biding her time - and savoring every single second of this fight.

Erebuz snarled again as He vanished in another blur of impossible speed. He swung His null blades up, and the beams of light vanished into their fathomless depths. The Unweaver once again appeared behind her, swinging again, before appearing at another angle and thrusting. His slashes, thrusts, and feints grew more frequent and wild until it almost seemed as if He was attacking her from multiple directions at once.

Then again... Perhaps He was.

Eve's body ducked and weaved as she dodged His blows, using her aura from her staff whenever she thought He would get too close. No chance she could speak the words she needed to say. Not yet... She had to lull Him down, and wear Him to the point of defeat. Eve encompassed her staff in a holy aura and used the end to deflect His blows with the power of the Spark within her. She was already drained of much of her magic. The defeat of His entire army took a great deal from her body and she nary had much to draw upon. Lillith's soul was her sole power source... The Spark was still too small and it played too much of a key in her plan.

With grace, she casted a teleportation spell and appeared behind the Lord of Chaos, using the dagger to strike at His back before disappearing away. Erebuz deftly spun one of his null blades behind him to parry the blow.

"Its been too long since I last fought something like you..." She said panting. Eve looked down at the dagger that was slowly rotting away. She threw it down to the ground and watched it fizzle out of existence. Grasping her staff, she threw whatever energy into it she had left and stood her ground, waiting for the right moment in which to do what she needed.

K'gara blinks and looks around blearily

K'gara is afraid

K'gara sniffles as she starts to cry, letting out a mournful howl

Bian Linh Vu hears someone crying and follows the sound

K'gara is trembling with fear, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings (what does it even look like here? The description is very vague) with her once proud ears folded flat against her head

Elanna Torres looks around, taking in her surroundings.

K'gara is sitting cross legged on whatever passes for the floor here, just sobbing mournfully