End of an Era: Ran vs Magnus!

[FullMetalBoy]

Let's do this, old man.

Ran vs Magnus, the best of two worlds collide!

Not gonna spoil much now, but we have some epic shit provided for the first couple posts. Rules are standard ofc.

(Note: Since people are keen to jump in, this fight is between myself and Guts. Kindly stay out of it.)

[FullMetalBoy]

Gray clouds dotted the sky like ink upon paper, the dreary skies begging to drop their load upon the depraved world below. It was a beautiful place, tall oak trees reaching like arms towards the heavens. Lush green grass sprawling across the floor of the mountain, upon which lilies and various wildflowers dotted and blossomed sporadically.

A lone cabin stood atop jagged ridges of eroded rock, the sides of the structure being built from slabs of ancient stone stretching towards the canopy of the trees towering above. Their leaves dancing in the breeze, a heavy stench of burning wood thick in the air. A rushing river cut through the gargantuan mountain that stood for centuries before and would for centuries more. It's formation seemingly perfect in it's balance, even with the small cabin acting as the only man-made structure.

Few people knew who owned this part of the mountain, as time passed rumors formulated and grew- growing nastier as time had passed. First a dragon, then more recently a hermit whom kidnapped children for the taste of their flesh. The small village which stood at the very base of the mountain had generated these superstitions, portraying the old hermit as a cut-throat murderer. But they had no idea how far off they were with their judgments of the only human living on their “Sacred” mountain.

The name of the old hermit was Ran, a very uncommon name for this age of living. Every person he met and actually spoke to, they scoffed at his ridiculous name often to Ran's chagrin. They also noted his odd appearance, blood-red eyes with lightning blue tresses that spilled across his youthful visage. Freak, they called him. When he visited a town they ran from him, screaming that he was a monster and should be killed for the way he looked. Ran was not from Earth, nor was he from this galaxy. He was from a very far off planet inside a constellation that had not yet been discovered by the human race. His home was very similar to that of Earth, the same lush green grass, the tall snow-capped mountains and beautiful blue oceans stretching as far as the eye could see. His home use to be surrounded by massive sunflowers, covering the entire plane. Such a beautiful world, now naught but a barren, lifeless rock.

Ran was perhaps the oldest living being on Earth. Born on his home world some six hundred years ago, yet he looked... very young. As if he had never aged past the age of 21. But the real secret was because of how many dimensions he crossed, how often he played with the sands of time. He had traveled and stretched the boundaries of life and time, no longer adhering to the rules of life. Ran, in his own right, was a god. Not the kind that demands respect and loyalty, no. Not at all. He was a God because of his immortality, how much power he had grasped in such a short amount of time.

Yet here he sat, gazing into the endless flames which lifted ever higher into the air. Completely consuming the rather large fish impaled on a stick, oh how he envied the sweet embrace of death. Idly wishing that he himself could be impaled on a pike and burned. He had so desired to simply die, how he longed to reunite with his family that was taken from him by his older sibling. Ran closed his eyes in thought, lifting a small round dish to his lips to take a long sip of a white liquid.

Most unfortunately, it had no taste. He had spilled far too much blood for sake to have any flavor to him. His master, the one who taught him how to survive had warned him of this. His path of vengeance was not a road that he should walk, his shishou warned. Yet he did not heed, and so he was forever damned to this eternal life. Maybe one day, someone would be strong enough to erase him from existence. To burn him like that fish, if only if only..

As these thoughts lingered on his mind, he slowly began to nod off. No longer paying attention to the mundane happenings in the real world. Ran slumped down against the stump, onto the grassy floor with his head leaning back against the bark. He had fallen completely asleep, a happy memory flooded to the surface...

It was a crystal clear day, not a single cloud in the sky. Oh how could one even begin to ponder the magic that pulsed through the air. Oh this magic was like no other, it was that of happiness. Of love. A small family sat under a large walnut tree, a female with an ample chest, soft brown hair yet striking gray eyes watched the two children roll around in the grass. Her hand clasped around that of a males whose eyes were as red as blood.

“They look like they are having so much fun...” She spoke, gently squeezing his hand.

“Well, ever since you bought them that ball they've been tossing it and rolling around with it as if they were the ball.” He laughed quietly, watching the two blue-haired children enjoy themselves.

“Are you hungry?” She asked him, turning to him with a wide, happy smile across her youthful visage.

“Let's wait for the kids, I don't want to interrupt them right now.” He spoke softly, turning his head to steal her lips in a sudden deep kiss.

All seemed perfect in this flat domain, birds chirping happily and the sound of childrens laughter breaking carrying in the breeze. Nothing could corrupt this moment, nothing at all.

[Arrogance]

The picturesque vista of the countryside shone like it was out of a painting. A winding dirt path snaked around rolling green knolls until it reached a grove. The spires of the king’s castle breached the ancient oaks that shaded the path to the kingdom. A single walnut tree sat atop a gentle hill, a vigilant sentinel for the glistening pearl spires in the distance. The commonwealth was a peaceful land, as far as anyone else knew. And the alabaster walls of the castle reflected the lands innocence. A doting couple had taken themselves to the serfs land for a picnic, and nature smiled upon them. A gentle breeze was accentuated by the golden wheat-grass shimmering and dancing like strands of gold in the midday sun. A small cottage could be seen near the woods, the serf’s residence who tilled the land.

Whip-poor-wills called from the hideaway of a separated copse as a tall, robust man with a messy straw hat stood above the wheat stalks with a garden hoe in his hand. He sighed wiping the sweat from his brow on the backside of his arm, and idly jabbed the end of the tool into the ground. It would be a good harvest, he thought, with pride. This crop was the backbone of his family, and this year the lord would be quite pleased with his surplus. He looked at the walnut tree he had played on as a boy, when he wasn’t helping his father plow or harvest, and saw a family lounging there. Turning he noticed his wife at the threshold of their home, a woman in her mid-thirties and showing pregnancy—their firstborn. Looped around her arm was a wicker basket, filled with fresh fruit from her personal garden and bread. She smiled as she walked down to the field, and behind her their dog bolted from the house, a shaggy and ecstatic sheepdog that flew to its master. Harrald laughed as the dog leaped to his side jumping all over him licking his hand. After a moment of ruffling the dog’s fur his wife spoke to him,

“We should join them.”

Harrald stopped petting the dog, and looked up at the hillside, frowning. “It is not our place,” he said, sternly. He was a man of strong tradition, and was slow to interact outside of his status, regardless of the monarch being benevolent or a tyrant. She was silent for a time as she thought,

“It would be good for us… for the baby,” she said.

The man stood statuesque, in silent approval. It was neither words nor a gesture that told her it was fine; she had known this man for what felt like forever. He was not a bigot, but he had a habit of being unable to concede a point or grant his boon, instead he sat there in a complete contemplative solitude that angered many into believing he was ignoring them. She walked up to him and took his hand in hers and his gazed warmed as she looked to him, then he nodded. The sheepdog bounded towards the hill on his approval, to play with the children, and Harrald raised his hand.

“He’s friendly! He won’t hurt!” He called out, unsure of how the strange looking man atop the hill would react to his pet.

The dog playfully nudged at the ball, wagging his tail as the husband and wife made their way up the hillside. “My name is Delilah,” she said with a curtsey, “it is a pleasure to meet you.”

The two had never seen the king’s daughter, so they did not know who they were actually speaking to, but by manner of her dress they guessed she was of some sort of nobility. The princess’s garments, after all, were far fairer than their own.

“We did not mean to intrude-” Harrald said,

“But we thought you might like some company.” Delilah interjected. Harrald was a man of great stalwartness, he could plow the land from dawn to dusk, and his back was as strong as an ox, but he was unrefined, socially. Harrald’s eyes saccade as he studied the two, “Yes,” was all he could muster. Delilah smiled, coruscating like a gleaming gemstone. She laid out a blanket across from the others for her and Harrald to sit upon and laid out their fruit and bread as the dog barked happily in the background.

The songbirds were interrupted by the plodding of horse hooves. A caravan of guards rode along the dirt road atop black Arabian stallions, covered in obsidian barding. The men wore fully featured dark plate mail, but it was the peculiarity of their fearsome helms that was most arresting. The visor and parts of the bevor were styled to appear like closing jaws of a demon, and authentic horns of ram twisted out of tops of their closed helmet. Attached to each of their pauldrons’ were large capes of black fur. The soldiers march was measured, and steady, but completely silent, almost lugubrious as if they were guiding a funeral procession rather than leading a diplomat. In the center was a carriage drawn by six horses, larger and stronger than all the others. The carriage had no top, but four guards who flanked each of the corners held up poles to a large black veil, which seemed to magically blot out most of the Sun’s light. There were two in the squad who were unarmored: at the rear of the caravan was a robed, bearded man who brought with him an assortment of tomes, scrolls, and other magic paraphernalia and there was a man in the center cart. In the elaborate carriage the man, who appeared much too ceremoniously dressed to be a common knight, turned and glanced at Ran as they passed by. His pale skin and hair contrasted his garb. The emissary’s long silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and fell over his right shoulder onto his chest. His flesh was so pale he appeared frosted over, or dead. He wore little in the ways of armor, only ebony pauldrons that draped his tattered onyx cape. He reclined in his seat, his hands folded in his lap, with his thumbs pressed together. When he viewed Ran and the princess, their children, he smirked. It was not a smile of joy, or indulgence. It was a pernicious smile filled with secrets. Anyone who knew of politics in the region knew who this man was:

“Count Markus, the Vile.”

Markus recently started a campaign, with a military force that far outweighed the commonwealth’s own. Yet he hadn’t used the strength of his army to encroach on the lands of this kingdom, it was through brutal politics that he usurped the power of the king. The forging of alliances, and betrayals, Markus was a deceiver. He wanted to see this lands people hopeless before he swept in to deliver the killing blow. Rumors spread through the courts that his soldiers fought, untiring, and that his spell casters ripped fear through the ranks of another country he had conquered. He could have washed over the kingdom like a black tide, but he only wanted them to squirm. The king of this land was known for his benevolence, and his economic prosperity; he had no wartime record. Markus likely wanted to take advantage of that by intimidating him, making him appear to be incompetent in front of his people.

And thus, Belial’s game began.

[Totsuka Tenjin]

The moon tugged violently on the Black Ocean's tides, pulling the beast farther into its depths. Panicking, he swished his tail like a rudder, struggling to ascend back up to the water's surface, the giant rock in the sky serving to light his way. It hung there by an invisible string, swinging back and forth like a massive pendulum; every time it reached the zenith of its ascent it paused, remaining stationary for about ten seconds before coming back down and generating a colossal tsunami. Underneath, he could see the undercurrent racing toward him, threatening to drag him up into its trough where he would be surely drowned by its incredible fury. Swimming below, he was barely able to escape, turning around and surfacing to watch as the moon made its second rise and fall, racing to meet the spot where the first swell would appear, and inevitably build up into another destructive wave.

He saw no other alternative but to submerge himself once more, the plates of his exoskeleton closing completely so as to make his body perfectly streamline, greatly increasing his speed. Electric current coursed throughout his body in jagged cerulean arcs, causing him to vibrate with such rapidity that he dispersed the water's molecules, furthering his acceleration. As he approached the moon's nadir, he ascended just high enough for his horns to protrude through the surface, splitting the water into twin-currents like a shark's dorsal fin. An enormous bulge registered in the creature's crimson-sapphire gaze--a sign that he was once again nearing another fluctuation of the Dark Realm's waters and subsequent effecting of the weather.

This is no ordinary chaos... Said a deep, throaty voice, whispering in the back of his skull.

In this place, the moon symbolized emotional consonance, mental harmony, and a general lack of dissonance in the universe; yet that thing had been going off the fritz for a whole week now. Whenever something as chaotic as this happened, the older brother knew that something was off--that something was being disturbed, and that someone was about to be pulled into a world of torment from which they could never return.

It is a vigorous sadness...

Alucroas lunged out then, a maddening howl escaping from his jaws as two sharp bones ripped free from the membrane atop his back, a small spray of sewage green blood being thrown from the wound. With great force and energy to power his ascent, draconic wings strongly flapped, allowing the abomination to fly clear over the rising crest. Behind him, he could see the moon continuing its back-and-forth motions, tugging on the tides, clearing away column after column of sea-water, sweeping it all away as if it were all one big pile of dust. The process repeated itself in both directions. Soon there would be nothing but a seemingly bottomless pit--one that would take years to fully descend. In the meantime, what few continents that were nearby were at extreme risk of being annihilated by the still-growing megatsunamis.

If, and in fact, the Dark Realm had a conscience it would have surely ended the destruction before it even had a chance to begin--but, however, due to the moon violently swinging to and fro', there was nothing it could do. As was already known by the semi-sentience governing the Dark Realm's existence, the moon represented all of this world's emotions, and the beings they belonged to. When it swung around like that, no one was safe. Animals lost what little sentience they had, and were reverted back into vicious killing machines: creatures who operated on nothing more than basic instinct:

Eat, sleep, fuck, reproduce. Rinse and repeat. No time for forming bonds... no time for love songs... NO time for new plans to be drawn here in this place without dawn.

Come, little brother... we have work to do...

Indeed, those two brothers did have plenty of work to do, and much much more ahead of them both. Alucroas looked down at the now-empty abyss, hovering there for a few minutes to observe his lonely new world. Such an unfortunate fate for the wonderful place he had the good fortune to have fell in...

However.

When heads crack like melons...

When the world fills with Hellions...

When my mind is deprived of catharsis...

By a man named Narcissus...

This was never something I Ran away from...

This was never something I'd leave undone...

My family's population was already very nearly reduced to none...

Calmly and quietly, the dragon flew through the blackened sky, following his brother's explicit orders to go and locate the source of this madness, to end that vigorous sadness, and to bring peace back into the world which had been plunged into chaos.

One atrocity was enough for me...

You better get ready for some animosity...

For I am the Monstrosity...

ALUTROSITY!

[Athanasius]

Centuries had passed since the birthing of a superpower within the Multiverse that had, in its day, rendered all bonds and ties of loyalty useless. Millenia had come and gone since the creation of beasts far beyond the scope of anything seen before, or after. Now they lay dormant, a creation of an all powerful God without a purpose or a place. They had become run-down, useless. Many of their kind had been killed off once mankind had learned of their heinous nature, and developed the weapons to kill them. Only the strongest of them remained, the most powerful of the forlorn force that had almost brought ruin to everything. Now humankind felt safe and secure, knowing that their forces outnumbered those of their enemy, knowing that their weapons outshined their adversaries. They say knowledge is power, and the humans felt quite assured that they were the most powerful.

They were wrong.

Among the ghastly horde a new leader had risen, a new figurehead to interpret the orders of their true master. He was a vile, tyrannical beast who had stripped from many of them their free will and ability to think for themselves. In battle he had earned his stripes, assembling a rag-tag group of vagabonds unlike any the world had seen before. Their kind was more powerful than ever, and they could easily have wiped out the humans in a single day of feeding and assimilation. The new leader of the misfit group had a different idea, though. He had other plans, an idea lain upon his heart by Idea himself. Val’gara was strong, but not yet all powerful. No, for that, they needed two more. Their true leader, Anathema, who had been missing since their war with the Psions - a bittersweet war which had resulted in the loss of the man the new leader considered his father, but the gaining of new lands and people.

Anathema would have to be found, this much The Collective had told Hellion when he allowed him to take up the mantle of General of the Hive-Mind. They had not held back their formerly relentless assaults simply because their numbers were too small, or because they felt that their adversaries were stronger than they. That was not in the nature of Val’gara. They were fitful beasts, who would fight until the end just to get what they wanted. No, their assaults had stopped so that a new mission could be undertaken. A mission to find their forlorn leader, and the other. The other remained nameless to them all, but Idea had assured Hellion that he would know him when he found him. That just looking upon his body, or the body of his avatars, would be enough for him to know what he sought.

The weight of those words had borne down on Hellion with excruciating force. The very conversation had put Hellion in more pain than he could have ever imagined, pain enough that lesser beings would have died. He knew what it must have felt like for Anathema now, all those conversations with the weight of Idea’s words literally crushing down on his shoulders. Hellion’s few, short bits of contact with the God had put tremendous pain upon him, but even that was nothing compared to the pain of contact now.

Still, their search moved on. Sector to sector, grid to grid. The Horde had split up into teams, Brobdingnag had taken many of the lesser Heralds with him, leaving Hellion with the most powerful of them. Of those that remained with him, few were truly with him. Narcissus mind was far in the distance, nearly untouchable by the great Horde’s hive-mind, but Hellion knew he was up to something. For the moment though, it didn’t concern him. Narcissus was one of them, but the man had always held his own counsel, his sinful pride sending him in directions Hellion, himself, wouldn’t have chosen.

Thane had returned to Soran, to assimilate many of his own kind into their numbers. The warrior-men of Soran were strong, powerful brutes. Hellion had witnessed their power long ago, when they had taken much of the planet for themselves. From there, Thane’s orders were to jump straight to the Psion planet, to the Council grounds, and see if he could pick up any new trace of Anathema’s existence, or where he may have gone. Hellion had done so himself on many occasions, and he was quite sure Thane would have no better luck than he, but it got the great brute out of his hair, and that was something Hellion was definitely happy about.

His own search, however, carried him toward more promising lands. His search for Anathema had been broadened to sectors of the Multiverse which, before now, had been relatively unexplored. Idea had pointed him in this direction, sending him off to follow the leads given by other creatures. He followed them closely, with his own tight-knit group of Heralds in tow, his people. They all belonged to The Mist now, bound together by the powerful mind of the creature known simply as “The Collective”. Their minds were bound tighter than any other group of Heralds within the hive-mind, they no longer needed the lesser cataclysm forces to bolster their power. They could do that among themselves better than any number of the lesser beasts ever could.


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Hellion of Val’gara, a beast of the higher Cataclysm that many had sought to equal, but none had ever outmatched. He was a vile creature, borne of hatred and a desire for revenge. His mentor missing, his world collapsing. He’d sought vigilantly for his master, and had yet been unfruitful in his endeavors. He felt no sorrow, though. He had no room for emotions, past the incessant hunger which always lurked just beneath the surface, empowering him and driving him onward to the next bitter harvest. In his wake lay a thousand dead planets, a hundred broken systems. All taken as part of the ongoing search for the man he considered a father to him, to the man who had brought him into the world he now longed to never leave.

The voices incessantly rang out in his head, a dull buzzing behind his eyes that he’d learned to ignore over time. The Heralds messages back and forth amongst themselves did not concern him, he sought only to truly hear the words which concerned him most. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, each holding the forearm of the opposite appendage. His eyes locked on the vast expanse of stars he could see through the mucus-lined, membrane walls of the Scourgebearer that had been retrofitted to be his home away from home.

His dark, pallid gaze boring through the endless expanse of ink-filled space, all the while they drew nearer to the first of the locations he planned to investigate, unless something came along that caused him to change his mind. Which wouldn’t be unheard of, given Idea’s propensity for changing the best laid of their plans.

Moments later, he felt a crushing weight bear down on his shoulders. He shuddered visibly, but there were none around who could have seen.

“Change directions. Head towards Mire, one of whom you seek will soon be within the Astral Realm, and you must travel there physically.”

He stood his ground, unable to move even had he wanted to. His knees were close to buckling from the powerful force which bore down on his mind and body.

“Yes, Master.” Hellion responded, immediately sending out the direction change to the Scourgebearer’s advanced mind. It was obvious the message was received and understood, as the ship immediately turned toward the spot where he knew Mire to be waiting. “Increase speed, get us there immediately,” he told the vessel, whose speed immediately increased to faster-than-light travel. It would take them only a few minutes to reach Mire, for the planet was already moving to intercept them - knowing that its masters were returning.

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Travel to Mire had taken less than thirty minutes, and now Hellion was disembarking the Scourgebearer, with his most trusted Heralds at his side. Carnus The Beast-Reaper, The Necron General, Azaroth, and The Chrysaor walked idly beside him, as they approached a long, thick cylinder that poked up from the planet’s surface. Though it looked natural, it was far from something that had simply grown here. It was old, much older than even The Psions themselves, who had used these totems as their own personal means of transportation - until Hellion had corrupted The Resonance Gate and repurposed them for Val’garan means anyway. Now only Val’gara could pass through the totems into the Astral Realm safely, using their physical world manifestations as a doorway. Others would become infected by the vile, vicious Vesuvian virus. Many a Psion had been assimilated that way, too fool-hardy to work out what would happen to them had they tried.

Hellion looked across his friends. The Collective had arrived at the totem, for these beasts were the puppets of that great mind. The Master of the Mist lay his hand along the totem, and poured his energy into it. A moment passed, and nothing happened. That was expected, the workings of the totem were known intimately to him, he’d used them many times before - most notably when he’d first learned of their power, and used it to follow the Psions tasked with repelling the assaulting force from the planet’s surface, a failed task if ever there had been one.

Suddenly the ground began to shake, as the vibrations of energy deep within the totem spread outward through its crust, affecting the other totems on the planet. The Gate, some mile away across barren landscape, sprang to life. Where once it had shimmered with brilliant, beautiful rays of white light, now only lay a tainted, darkened portal. They could have walked through the gate themselves, but Hellion had fed the power into this totem for a specific purpose. It was the Anchor Totem, the binding of the physical Mire to the Physical World. With it activated, the entire planet would soon transport itself to the Astral Realm, with all of them aboard it.

The Astral Plane was the world of dreams, and once within it all Hellion would have to do is search out he dream he sought - with the help of Idea that would be a simple task. The power from the gate began to seep out, the twisted, corrupted metal bending and breaking. Again, Hellion expected all of this. The totems all across the planet sprang to life, shooting that same tainted, dark light into the sky all across Mire, building a dome of Astral Energy around the planet, a covering which covered every millimeter of the planet’s atmosphere.

Even the Psions, for all their infinite might and knowledge over psychic energies hadn’t been capable of this, hadn’t known the full extent of the totems’ power. Hellion’s lips curled into despicable, evil smile as he felt the planet give one final, violent shudder. Then it was over, the energy receded back within itself, and the totems fell lifeless once more. The Gate, however, remained open for a moment longer before it, too, died out.

A feeling swept over them, as the bright world around shook and violently twisted with the pain and taint their very presence brought upon it. It was a feeling that told them they shouldn’t be here, that their very passing through the veil had been a travesty that the universe could never forgive. That was something all too familiar to The Master of the Mist, for the Spirit World loathed the energy of physical beings inside of it. Still, the feeling of loathing was not the most powerful of feelings that swept over Hellion’s mind.

“My friends,” he began “do you feel that? It is the presence Idea told me about, warned me about when we began our search. The other is here, somewhere. Perhaps not as himself, but I can feel him. Idea says we must find him, he knows where our true master is, and now we have been delivered to him. Praise, Idea.”

They echoed his love for Idea in their minds, and soon had Mire moving toward the source of the presence. Wherein they would find the creature they sought, in the dream of a man Hellion had come across before, a being known as Ran, whom Hellion remembered well from their last meeting. Ran was dreaming, his spirit was within the Astral Realm, upon the dream world that he had envisioned and created with his subconscious mind. The creature they sought, too, was coming from that direction. Hellion could feel them both in the distance, though the one they sought was much fainter than the one he knew. Still, party-crashing was something Hellion had grown very good at, and soon he would crash their little party.

He was prepared for an all out war, he turned to his followers and smiled.

“Today, my friends, we find our master! Today, my friends, my guns will scream their agony song, and rend the flesh from the bones of our enemies! TODAY, VICTORY WILL BE OURS ONCE AGAIN!”

His right hand pushed back the side of his duster, and his hand lay on the grip of his massive pistol, known as the Tyrant Guns. Looking out under the brim of his western-style hat, he smiled a bright, happy smile.

“Now, let us go pay a visit to these creatures. What is our mission, Val’gara?!”

With one voice, they all rang out their answer.

Convert! Consume! Control!

[Odium]

((OOC: We did not mean to intrude, but we thought you might like some company.))

~*~

SOMEWHERE IN THE DARKNESS

Godless and godforsaken, he stumbled across the continent of black ice, moaning soundlessly into winds that stripped flesh from bone and blew through the body to chill the soul. In the sunless world, there was no horizon, only a limitless expanse of faintly glistening ice and the shapes that moved beneath its surface. In his time there, he had learned the true meaning of three words: eternity, loneliness and futility.

Still, he was driven forward. He knew the answers he sought lay here, hidden inside this mnemonic glacier, where time flowed as liquid in slow, cyclical patterns. His other emotions had faded into numbness. The ice was not cold to the touch, but every step drained him of warmth. The only thing sustaining him was his hatred, the desire to see his enemies torn apart atom by agonizing atom, to be spread across all reality and still be conscious of the pain along every micron of the way.

Idea. Idea. Idea.

The stars could burn out their hydrogen cores and still he would be waiting there, in a cosmos where his eyes were the stars and the universe worshipped the night.

Idea.
At first, the truth of his hatred had weighed down his soul like a stone. After a time spent sinking and days spent rampaging across the worlds with all the zealotry of a man whose faith is dead, he had confronted it, tried to excise it, reason with it, beg it to go away and let him continue to dream of conquest.

But it hadn’t. It had taken root and flourished. Before long, Narcissus found himself realizing that the Val’gara were built on a foundation of contempt; contempt for others and contempt for themselves, contempt for reality and contempt for fantasy and everything else, all concentrated into a neat little rock of pure petty contempt:

Idea.

The entire universe was built on the same principle, a cauldron of bubbling contempt – the older races for the younger who revel in their revolutions and self-mutilation, and those same youthful cultures for the ancient ones to whom change is anathema. The Val’gara were just a mirror, reflecting the chaotic nature of the universe back at itself, and simply profiting as lesser species were torn apart in the ensuing bedlam. The Val’gara were just the chosen worm in a planet of dirt and excrement, or a band of adolescents united beneath a flag of upheaval and hedonism and contempt.

They were unsure even of their identity. Just who was Idea? Where exactly did he begin and end? Who was and who wasn’t? Were they the purebred, the chosen race, or nothing? Narcissus knew his answer: a mongrel race of federated disgust, striving towards a universe of scorn.

Even knowing that, no matter how far he ventured into his truth, Narcissus would still be Narcissus. He could not change his own repugnance without becoming someone, something else. Still, he could relish his own hypocrisy, atone for himself and escape his self-loathing by destroying the source that had made him into what he was.

How the means had fallen into his hands was coincidence, or destiny. He had warred with the hunters, Alucroas and Alutrosity, since they had first appeared in his dreams some time ago. In their conflicts, he had been introduced to the Dark Realm, the dimension between spaces, where everything was recorded in the primal ooze, although much of it in languages still unknown to anything but itself. Now, through exposure or perhaps acknowledgment by the gestalt being, Narcissus could come and go as he wished.

Eventually, in his forays through the strange realm, searching for some means of using it to his advantage in his great undertaking, he had found this place. A continent of ice-that-is-not-ice, solid Dark Realm fluid, where he could make sense of at least some of the information trapped there. When he had first set foot on the strange island, the only path open to him had been his own. A vein of light flowed through the glacier and he followed it, and in the process went on a painful journey of self-discovery.

In time though, he could see other trails imprinted in the ice. At first only those closest to him: Theo Spyredes, the other Heralds, the fates of entire worlds and those with whom he had done battle. These had eventually found a common nexus, flowing together like tributaries into one almighty river, to form the solid pillar of Idea. As he had grown accustomed to the land’s bizarre properties he found himself almost unable to see patches of ice between the thronged threads of other living beings, most running parallel to Idea’s road, but some weaved in and out, displaying a command over their own destiny that Narcissus envied.

Eventually, his path too diverged from Idea’s, but he did not follow it, both because he feared a forewarning of his failure and because he did not know if he could trust the ice’s predictions. The images he saw trapped beneath the glacial surface were undoubtedly real, for many of them were memories he shared, but they were true in what timeline? In what reality parallel to his own? He couldn’t afford to be smug if the flow of events did somehow lead him to his quarry.

Eventually, he came to an oddly shaped vein diverging from the main flow he had been following. It curled out to a meeting point between its owner and Idea before curving back in a massive and complex arc of events and happenings, some resonating in the ice brighter than others. By focusing on the principle, arcing stroke of light and ignoring the other, lesser events and happenings that spiderwebbed around it like illusions trying to draw his attention away from his goal, he was able to discern something wholly unnerving.

It flowed back to the beginning of the road he stood on. Taking a tentative step onto the new path, images flowed through his mind. Most were irrelevant, albeit impressive: weird and disturbing panoramas of the lowest pits in Hell, of the infernal city, and others of engagements between starships set on a backdrop of stars. The sounds accompanying them registered as nothing but background noise. Nevertheless he forged on, eyes fixed on the slow-moving images beneath the ice.

He saw things that he hadn’t seen even in the most outrageous conflicts between the Val’gara and other civilizations. A singularity in space opening up into a hole within which another universe seemed to be born in a soundless wave of creation, stars sparking into existence like city lights as the sun slips beneath the horizon. He visualized a massive vessel that fended off attacks from an assortment of small but persistent hornets, and a man sinking into its depths while another watched from his throne.

He heard words that gripped his heart in a tight iron claw.

"The samples have been returned to Dis."
"Excellent work... Idea."
"We expect the favor to be returned, Deceiver."
"In due time."
"We shall fall back to your fleet, with the exception of the Herald."
The voice spoke to Magnus after a pause: "Shall we meet again?"
"Most likely not. Unless the council ordains it."
"Then farewell, Belial."

Narcissus paused. For a long second he stood there, alone on the akashic continent. Then his face split into a familiar, but cynical, almost worried grin, and he said, “This gives me an idea.”

~*~

WHERE DREAMS COME TO DIE

Behind him, the doorway into the Dark Realm emitted a faint suction noise as it slowly drained information from another ethereal plane literally brimming with it. It simulated the sensation of a light autumn breeze, and Narcissus wished he had taken a form more appropriate for chilly weather. Glittering fragments of the shattered crystal cocoon that had brought him here lay scattered around him, sinking slowly into the dark mud. There, if the dreamscape’s basic functions had remained unchanged since his last visit, unwary dreamers in for the worst nightmare of their lives would swallow them.

He was dressed for the occasion. Two large crystal shelves jutted up from his neck and shoulders, forming a high collar that passed a few inches over his head, with a wide curve to give his head ample room. His face was cast in shadow by the opaque properties of the crystal, but his blue eyes remained forever vibrant, and the alien sunlight brought out the faint scarlet tinge to his wiry black curls. His complexion, a strange cross of emerald and amber as they warred for dominance across his skin, were only barely visible between the walls formed by his makeshift lapel.

From two crystal clasps on his shoulders sprouted a web of tentacles and black, silky strands that seemed to lay across his body, forming both a cape and a thin mesh over his muscular frame. Besides this, he wore nothing, save a chain draped across his torso that connected to a number of amethyst beads forming a belt around his waist, thrashing tentacles acting as a short skirt to cover his nudity.

Before him lay an ocean, so calm as to give off the illusion of sleep; illuminated from within by long stemmed plants that grew down impossibly from the surface of the water, each separating into hundreds of thin filament fronds that terminated in small glowing orbs.

Theodoros Spyredes, though still reeling from Narcissus’ greatest and final gift to him, was prepared for his own task. Once Narcissus left the corporeal plane, it would be up to his former self to pilot their shared body. Before he could begin, however, he had one last task.

His eyes fluttered shut as his consciousness extended, probing back through the portal into the place he’d come from. Impossibly vast, it should have been impossible to navigate without some sort of map even in its normal state, much less in its current chaos; however, his mind had touched this being’s enough times that Narcissus could sense its presence even from far off, like the distant buzzing of a fly in the back of his mind.

Come, hunter. I believe I have found a solution to both of our problems.

Nothing else was needed. Narcissus allowed his mind to return solely to his body and, eyes focused intently on the silent ocean before him, lifted one hand so that his palm faced the sky. From beneath the motionless waters, a single stalk of one of the plants shuddered and moved. It rose slowly, bending gently as it came above the surface of the placid sea, still dripping wet. At this distance, the orb was much like a snow globe, the image inside just barely visible as a fuzzy blur.

Now that his eyes were trained on his prey, all there was left to do was… wait.

[FullMetalBoy]

The two children simply laughed as the dog nudged the ball with his wet nose, their eyes lightening up in glee as the boy tackled down the dog. His arms wrapping around the dogs mid-section to lift it in the air and playfully toss it to the side. The girl came forward and placed a happy kiss right on its snout, their laughs showing a true innocence.

The Princess gave the two who approached a welcoming smile, her knowing eyes glanced at the others rounded stomach. Ran, however, was staring at them with an air of mistrust. But it wasn't until she squeezed his hand reassuringly did he actually speak.

“You are more than welcome to join us,” He spoke softly, his voice ringing with hospitality in every word. His crimson eyes glowing with what seemed to be happiness. Gesturing towards their basket with his right hand, wordlessly telling them to help themselves. “We have sandwich meats, cheese and a large chicken salad. Please, eat as much as you please.”

The Princess continued to smile towards them, her features positively radiant. Both in happiness and never-ending beauty, parting her lips to address the pregnant female; Delilah.

“How far along are you? Do you know it's gender?” She asked kindly, reaching out to gently pat her hand in both greeting and reassurance. The Princess was a kind woman, when her father was still in control of the entire Kingdom she always acted as a nurse and helped heal the sick and wounded. She had a love for both humans and animals alike.

The children stopped their rough-housing, turning their attention towards the horses that galloped past. The Princess reached over and gripped his hand tightly, it was not an act of comfort. It was a simple warning.

“Now is not the time, Ran.” She whispered softly, looking him dead in the eyes. “A fight with Count Markus is not something you should seek, you surely heard the rumors of his soldiers?”

“Where I did or not,” He gave her a warily look. “is of no concern to me, my Princess. That man is naught but pure evil, he may have taken over the throne without violence but he is a ticking time bomb. I will destroy him and his entire army if he dares try and hurt you or our children.” He spoke evenly, his eyes full of a childish determination.

The Princess merely sighed, squeezing his hand once more and leaned up to kiss him. Ran automatically leaned in, gently pressing his lips to her own. He had completely forgotten Harrald and Delilah were sitting right across from them. Apparently he and the Princess had remembered this at the same time, for they pulled apart with a heavy blush crossing their features. Together they gave an embarrassed laugh as the twins moved over and joined them. The boy had his arm wrapped around the dog, the girl reaching up and holding her mothers hand. She was the shy one, very afraid of other people whilst the brother was outgoing and happy. Despite the Count who was cantering past; there was nothing that could interrupt this perfect moment.

“Tell me, would you be looking for any help on that farm?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Oooh Katon!” A high, shrill voice filled the subconscious of the sleeping Ran, a lithe shadow called. Its hand at its mouth and called out to the darkness. Expecting the other to appear right before it, none could withstand the call of Kishinjiraden.

“Yes?” A second voice came, this time a small child appeared to be bowing at the shadows feet. The person was undefined, yet the only thing one could see would be the snow white hair that clearly spilled across it's features.

“Do you feel that?” The shadow asked in a sing song voice.

“Of course I can.” It spoke with a tone of sarcasm, standing to peer up at the much taller shadow. “How could I not? So many trying to penetrate the bubble of Master's mind. What should we do? Awaken... him?”

“Him? Hmm... That may be prudent, the probability of Ran destroying these interlopers on his own is less that five percent.” The shadow frowned-- or something akin to it seeing as a white crease had formed at where a mouth would be.

“You doubt his power so? With us and Abaremawaru at his side, do you really believe we can lose?”

“Of course, these powers which seek shatter the most ancient protection of Ran's mind are the likes of which we have never encountered. One has already broken the seams of his protection, three others are close. There may, perhaps, be more that try to interfere with this cycle.” It sighed, its head tilting down to stare at the child. “If we are luckly, HE might be able to save us. Go ahead and open the seals, Katon.”

“Very well, Kishinjiraden. When the first interloper arrives, shall I open the gates and give Master his abilities and equipment?
“Oh very well.”

“Thank you.”

Both shadows faded out as the seals that held Ran's darkest, deepest secret began to crack at their seams. He was beginning to awaken, and all that stood before him would become... eradicated.

[Circ]

In the flight of years after SMD’P last coiled itself around the blackened pillars of the Resonance Gate on Mire, its physical body remained undisturbed. Over time, grass sprang from the flame-raped soil and ivy wreathed its monstrous body as it wreathed the arch of the gate—time passed, day fled into night, and night gave birth to snow, rain, wind, seasons, and still more time. With each moment, the hardened spans of its multipartite body crushed into the gate’s stonework and, eventually, where one ended and the other began became indistinguishable and unimportant. Both were one, and together epitomized those archaic, abandoned, and dead monuments that loom over the countryside in defiance of entropy and cliché testaments to some ancient civilizations—by all appearances dead husks, but alive in ways that transcend the baseness of common mortality.

While the insentient planet turned, forgotten to the Multiverse, the Sounder’s mind was free to go anywhere, be everywhere, listen, watch, travel, and probe. It observed one of Idea’s more chaotic servants grow in power, the secret and slow betrayal of a second, and the confused sojourns of an identity-lost third.

It … ate … Doritos.

Blazin’. Baffalo. Ranch. Doritos.

In a giant bin, deep within Brobdingnag, thousands of other segments devoured billions of the tasty orange snacks and sustained the rest of its masses strewn across the cosmos through psyche-nutrition. Like maggots, they bored through the crushed flour-based food product, crispy crusts all coated in paprika and other fine spices.

Elsewhere, projections of itself delved the mysteries of alternate realities, dimensions, and layers of thought that perspired from dead memories into an ocean of icy darkness. Beyond those, places that could never exist in the conscious mind.

In those places, it found its prey.

Then it took a nap, because it hadn’t been discovered yet.

Night night!

[Arrogance]

Harrald eyed the caravan with apprehension; they surely weren’t the commonwealth’s soldiers. What were they doing here? He stared at them as they disappeared into the tree-line. He didn’t like it. He surely didn’t have as strong of a feeling towards Count Markus as Ran did, but it was more out of ignorance than a lack of zeal. He only caught bits and pieces of Delilah and the other couple’s conversation. While Harrald zoned out, Delilah noticed, and took reigns of the conversation.

“I’m not really sure of its gender… but the baby should be due any day.” There were some magicks in the commonwealth wielded by medicinal seers that could determine the gender of a baby before its conception. Unfortunately for the serfs, they couldn’t afford the coin in a year to pay for a single spell. They were sustenance farmers, knowing little of the pleasures of noble life. Still, despite reminding them of their pauperdom, Delilah remained cheerful. After all, conception was the true miracle of life! She would soon have a baby, boy or girl, it didn’t matter to her. This was something she always wanted—a child.

As Delilah watched the two kiss, and then sheepishly blush almost in simultaneity, she smiled warmly. The two were a cute couple, she thought. She didn’t know how long Ran and his girlfriend had been together, but the two of them reminded her of Harrald and herself, when their relationship was yet still budding.

The dog ripped Harrald back to the present with a big sloppy tongue across the face. Delilah laughed, fully relying on the sheepdog at certain times to break her husband’s intensity. He smiled and turned red, embarrassed at his incognizance. Delilah patted him on the knee before the laughter subsided. When everyone was quiet they snagged Harralds attention by asking about help on the farm. He was actually a bit taken aback that anyone would even think to help them.

“Well, yes,” He said, unsure of where to start, “we could always use some help. The harvest’ll be around soon and I could definitely use an extra hand.”

He was about to continue when Delilah cut in, “Especially with the baby coming.”

Harrald nodded.

“You are quite a ways away from the other nobility, if you like you can stay with us for the night and head back during dawn break. What we have isn’t much, but you’re more than welcome to it.” Delilah offered, knowing that travel to the castle could be a long journey.

***

As the Count’s caravan entered the forest they knew they would meet with their scouts: a group of archers supplemented and led by a wizard by the name of Daedalus. Daedalus specialized in illusions: spells that made him and his allies incognito. He was good at it, too. The scouting squad had mapped out much of the woods, and picked the most remote area to interact with the caravan. Only the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves in the windbreak was heard over the plodding of hooves. A particularly gnarly conifer started to distort along the trunk, its knobs and gnarls twisted silently, forming into a male face made of bark who quietly leered at the caravan. As if some elemental treant, he stepped from the trunk of the old oak, like one would step from behind a curtain. As he unveiled himself his face regained its fleshly color and the woodsman’s clothes regained their hue. He wore a short bow upon his back and a quiver of arrows, but little in the ways of armor.

More men of the reconnaissance team appeared, accompanying their rugged ally. A sparrow dipped from the canopy and exploded in a small poof of smoke revealing another archer, and several men moved silently along the canopy of the trees, wearing the greenery of the shrubs as their camouflage. More men pulled themselves from the ground as if they were surfacing from a lake, all of them archers. It was no wonder they had not been caught this far into the kingdom, every one of them was a master of disguise, and were supplemented by the illusionist. Daedalus, himself, stepped out of thin air in front of the caravan to meet it. He was a young male in his early twenties with short, cropped hair and fuzz grown from a few days without shaving.

Leading the point of the armored soldiers was their captain, Garth, a hardy man who was rumored to grow up in the mountains from birth, raised and wrestled with the wild animals that lived there. “Hail,” Garth said.

Daedalus nodded.

Garth whispered to him, “The rest of the forces lie in wait just outside of the border, just in case.”

Again, Daedalus nodded.

“What have you found out, mage.”

“There are several scouting parties to the north, east, and west of the castle.” He said handing Garth a small map rolled up into a scroll. “We’ve noted their patrol routes for you, so should the Lord wish to avoid them it should be no problem.”

“We don’t have time for them,” Garth snarled, “we have information that should be of great interest to the king, and it cannot be delayed.”

Daedalus nodded, “We shall watch your rear and flanks, what of the princess? We saw her first when we entered the forest.”

Garth grimaced under his helmet, “Use her. If Ran follows us, then kill her, we do not have time to engage with him.”

Daedalus grinned, “As you wish.”

The bearded wizard in the back of the caravan raised an eyebrow. Daedalus’ bloodlust was unbecoming of a spell caster, he thought to himself. It almost seemed as if he learned the arcane arts not because he wished to be a scholar, as all sorcerers should, but simply to quell his thirst for violence. He scoffed; Daedalus was talented, but still far too young. Then the wizard looked to the Count, who calmly sat there throughout the entirety of the conversation. Now there was a man he could never hope to understand, the Counts complexities knew no bounds. The count had such great charisma, yet such a ruthless administration. He sighed, whipping the reigns of his horse as the caravan began to move again, and noticed Daedalus giving him a wolfish grin just before the party disappeared. He regarded the grin with an upturned nose and a scornful “Hmph.”

After some time traveling, and following the map, they finally reached the castle gates. When they finally reached the castle, it seemed far less pristine than it had in the distance. The gravel-gray walls shone dimly, like tarnished steel, never truly clean, never truly perfect. The massive glowing spires in the distance appeared valorous, and just in their erectness. But now the oppressively tall tower seemed portentous and foreboding. The gates were a large stone structure, finely carved by the most talented of stonemasons. Nothing less was expected of one of the most prosperous countries in all the land. But they found the king’s tastes to be odd. The stone gates were open, but a portcullis pulled down separated the kingdoms interior from the rest of the world. The sides of the gate depicted people falling to their doom. A man in the centerpiece of the doorway crouched in serious contemplation, and three figures above it all, regarded the carnage with dismay. The piece displayed such quiescence; the count could never destroy it.

In the distance, a storm rumbled like angry dragons over the mountainous horizon, and a chilling breeze swept across the land peculiarly evanescent, but alarmingly frigid.

[Athanasius]

From the surface of Mire, floating idly through the blank, disparaging Astral Plane, Hellion felt like a God. A creature of divine purpose, impervious to the threats of the outside world - and more powerful than any adversary who might rise against him. It was an inspirational feeling, giving him a taste of what he might one day become. It was wonderful, beautiful even. Yet, it was wrong. It was a defense of this world against the physical intrusion, an attempt to trap him in his own fantastical delusions. He’d long sought the power behind this plane of existence, theorizing that it was more than just a simple dimension. Perhaps, as some had once believed, the Astral Plane was as alive as Hellion - perhaps more so, considering his lack of blood and heart beats.

Still the fantasies filled him, creeping across his mind and delving deep within the chasms of his psyche which, right now, were susceptible and wide-open for any intruder to find. His dark, evil smile only grew with each passing moment the visions were allowed to linger, and on some level he knew he was moments from being trapped inside the controlled manifestations. Sadly, the sights he saw burned deep into his twisted, tormented soul. They revealed to him a side he’d never truly known, he’d never thought could exist.

Within his mind he saw his reunion with Anathema, the man who had brought him into the world he now called his own. He saw the haunted, scared gaze his mentor gave him. A fright-filled look of utter disgust and inner torment:

He reached out to him, trying to welcome his true master home, like the loyal dog he had always been to him. “Come home, Master. We have missed you.” Anathema cringed back from the reaching motion, disallowing his most loyal servant’s attempt to grasp him.

“Who are you? What do you want with me? Why do you call me Master? My name is Jack.” The voice was of a man who had forgotten himself, a confused speech given by a man who was - for now - a shadow of what he’d once been. His eyes held fear for his fate, but also something more. Something hidden beneath the surface. A type of hatred, an utter contempt for the man before him.

Hellion dropped his arm back to his side, letting his hand rest idly against his thigh. “What ever do you mean? Your name is Anathema, and I am The Master of the Mist, Hellion of Val’gara. Jack was your human name, but you and I both know you are much more than this. Stop playing dumb.” Hellion’s own voice was filled with confusion, in all his years he’d never heard his master refer to himself by his human name.

“Anathema…I don’t know any Anathema, I think you should just go. Leave me and my family alone, we want nothing to do with you, we have nothing you want.” Jack’s voice had lost its fearful edge, and something akin to recognition flared behind the haunted look in his eyes. It was as if in that single moment, everything had changed. Hellion saw Anathema within him, he could sense the presence of this man’s former self.

“Your family? These people are not your family. You’re much more than a poor farmer, living on the edge of the galaxy, barely getting buy supporting a whore and her children. You are a leader, a warrior. You will see what you once were, I will show it to you.” The Mist flared out from Hellion’s body, a burst of translucent fog that was much, much more than a simple visual impairment. It snaked along Jack’s body, seeping into his every pore, his every orifice. Overtaking his body, pushing inside of him, soon he would find…

“Snap out of it, you fool. We’ve got work to do.” The voice inside of his head did not belong to any member of the horde, but to The Mist itself. The sentient being snaked through Hellion’s body, coursing through his veins and sustaining his life indefinitely. It, like the magic of this plane, seeped into the chasms and contours of Hellion’s brain, purging it of the vision-inducing poisons. Like a fog being lifted from his eyes, Hellion could once again focus on the world around him. The mission at hand, which was directly linked to bringing his vision to fruition. “In case you were too stupid to notice it yourself, or perhaps too wrapped up in your own idiotic mental endeavors, we are not the only Heralds here.”

Hellion immediately cast his gaze about, searching the sky above Mire for the interloper, but found nothing out of the ordinary. “Not up there, you imbecile. On Mire itself, just turn around and pay attention for once.” With a mental ‘Oh, okay…’ Hellion turned around, and found a familiar face laying on the ground. How he’d gone without sensing The Sounder’s presence, he was unsure. Moreover, how he’d stepped right by the great beast - which wound its way about the Resonance Gate he’d moments ago come through to land on the Astral-Mire - he couldn’t begin to fathom.

As far as Hellion had known, SMD’P had been dead for years now, countless months had gone by without word or sound from the creature - though Hellion had been so wrapped up in his own endeavors it was likely he wouldn’t have heard the beast had it called out to him. They’d never been particularly fond of one another, either, but Hellion saw how his presence could add a certain…flavor to the party he intended, whether he would like the flavor or not had yet gone undetermined. He was certain the beast knew of his presence, if not his full intentions.

He reached out to the creature, using the ever-present mental connection provided by the Hive-Mind to speak with it. “What are you doing here, Sounder? I was sure you’d betrayed us, like that bastard Narcissus,” he sent the beast, his eyes never leaving the creature’s face - with its great eyes closed. His hand wrapped around the butt of his tyrant gun, squeezing down on it with a white-knuckle grip. With the betrayal being passed upon them by one of their kin, and the scattered remnants of nearly every Herald searching for their true leader, he’d become suspect of any who did absolutely nothing.

The Sounder, who lay coiled silently around the Gate, was one whom he was deeply suspicious of, and so he was on constant guard when addressing the beast. “Sounder, what are you doing?” Hellion called out through their mental connection, his ruthless, cold gaze landed on the sleeping beast, knowing his words would reach the creature, or one of its subsidiaries, and be answered.

“Following orders,” came the reply, in a mumbled, hushed tone of mind-voice. Hellion didn’t say anything, only looked at the beast with the utmost suspicion before turning back to face the entrance into the dream. If The Sounder was still following orders, then he knew that he need not worry about himself, or his compatriots. Which meant, of course, that he had bigger fish to fry. Two he sought would soon be within his grasp - though from here anything was within his grasp - and he would have to choose which to chase, if either of them should be caught to begin with. Idea would likely make his mind up for him, and he would consider this tiny moment a waste of his valueless time, and yet waste it he did. Hell, it was better than sitting around waiting for the sentience of the unknown creature who ruled this plane of existence to try and seep into his mind again.

[Totsuka Tenjin]

Come, hunter. I believe I have found a solution to both of our problems.

The dragon's eyes bulged in their sockets when he heard the message, his gut tightened, nostrils flared as he released a bass roar, so deep and so loud, that it caused the surrounding darkness to ripple outward--like a body of water that had just been impacted by an asteroid. He wanted... no needed to find the source of this wickedness, for both the Dark Realm as well as his own sake. After all, his very sanity was dependent on it, and unfortunately for him, Alucroas' older brother was far too insane to care about his younger sibling's health. The only thing that mattered to the monster at this point was brutalizing the one who had not only woken him up, but roused his blood lust.

Twitching as he flew through the endless night, Alucroas closed his left crimson eye, leaving the sapphire right to gaze into epicenter of those shock waves he had created a few minutes ago. A coruscating beam of red light which scintillated with electrical discharge caught his attention, though only temporarily, for the creature quickly ignored it - possessing more than enough mileage here to know how to navigate this place. Where he now traveled could easily be considered one of the most confusing sectors of the Dark Realm's vast expanse: the world of the subconscious - a place in which the ego was absent and where repressed thoughts, feelings, and emotions lie.

He had literally entered the world of the shadow self; a sub-realm where there was little to no logic, where the mind was fully capable of spawning inorganic as well as organic constructs that were simply incapable of existing on the Dark Realm's upper-levels.

~*~

"Is he ready for deployment?" A slithering voice asked, staring at the red-eyed experiment he had strapped to a cold metal bed, its face hidden behind the steam that stained the mouth-piece of an enormous breathing apparatus.

Insufficient Data

The creature let out a gurgled sigh, dragging his pathetic-looking body across the pitch black room, secreting a thick coat of slime everywhere he went. Hundreds of tendrils covered his entire being, obscuring his facial features with the exception of a rather long, horizontal mouth, and a fleshy proboscis that slurped at the shelves lining a ventilated wall where frigid air flowed through. Resting on those shelves were transparent capsules containing a wide array of organic samples, all of which were collected for a single purpose: selecting a suitable... soul mate.

For a moment the creature jerked its head back, the tip of its sniffing appendage widened, revealing a pair of stark white lips wrapping themselves around the capsule. He inhaled quite a bit of the scent as he turned around, his tendrils flailing wildly about; he shuffled passed medical trays, swiping a syringe off one, and a bottle containing a brown liquid off the other. His other tendrils wrapped around several knobs built into the table and turned them all, tilting it back so that he could operate more efficiently.

Ah... I remember him...

Right now Alucroas was little more than a spectating specter, hardly able to interact with his environment aside from the occasional nudge of a desk should he exert himself enough. He was currently "perched" on a support beam with minimal light, his counter-colored eyes illuminating the darkness which surrounded him. Every movement the scientist took, Alucroas quietly followed with his entire head - like the curious gaze of a dog watching his master conduct business with a friend or associate.

It gently set the capsule down, admiring the white flesh that spazzed within, red and blue sparks jumping from the skin before dissipating against the glass.

He watched the good doctor fill his syringe and give it a few taps, squirting some of it onto the floor where it became lost in the transparent slime he trailed everywhere. What he injected into the experiment was called a Gene Wedge, engineered for the purpose of taking genetic codes and forming a gap between them. This allowed new codes to be implanted - bridging the gap, and essentially adding onto the DNA helix until they were finally complete.

The scientist set the capsule vertically between two bowl-shaped devices that quickly cupped and unscrewed it, fully revealing a chunk of white skin and red flesh. Admiring this planet's life-forms, he started poking and prodding it, taking note of the skin's multiple dense layers, quietly praising how the muscles it was attached to seemed to tighten up; something that when placed under a microscope only pulled the sample's epidermal cells closer together. A worthy candidate, indeed, the good doctor thought to himself.

"Display Subject #27's psychological profile."

A generally calm, reserved beast.
Slow to anger, even tempered.
Maintains a moderate-to-high degree of disciplinary mannerisms.
Subject has been known to display a rather "explosive fighting-style".

"Yes... definitely a compatible mate for our little Aludon."

Alucroas recoiled at the startling similarity in names, his jaws snapping as he sought out an answer from Alutrosity, who at the time, wasn't entirely focused on the scientist and his experiment.

From halfway across the room, just above the exit, he observed a beast - much larger than Alucroas - whose appearance bared a striking resemblance to Zucroas before the Aptosites had attempted to conquer Liaita. Smoke billowed from his nostrils, but the creature - busy with his work - did not seem to notice as he silently watched. His chance would come soon enough, for now it was merely a matter of patience.

One of the scientist's tendrils extended, and with one clean whip-motion, sliced clean through the rib-cage, dropping the white flesh directly into it. Pressing the ribs back together, he creature swiped a tube of gel and squeezed it along the cut-line, cauterizing the wound with a loud hiss, that billowed voluminous amounts of smoke into the air. Must have been an unexpected reaction to the gel interacting with Aludon's acidic blood, he thought. Nothing worth worrying himself over, he could still see just fine.

By now, the beast who was perched atop the exit had vanished.

Soon brother, you will understand the source of my violence...

"Release his restraints." The scientist ordered, starting to pace about the room.

The Aptosite's head immediately shot up, snapping the breathing apparatus, and nearly ripping out a chunk of ceiling as he leaped from the table, freeing himself from the intravenous needles he had been stuck with. Aludon shrieked frantically, confused about where he was, and why he had been trapped in the same room as that cruel scientist. His nostrils widened, sniffing at the floor in an attempt to find the exit, only to smell more of the disgusting doctor's scent staining the floor like a gooey carpet. He swung himself around, his tail slammed into the table, uprooting it a few inches off the ground.

"Poor poor creature... missing your mate already, are you?" He asked.

Aludon turned around, his red eyes glowing in childish curiosity, viewing the scientist before him as a parent, despite his clear lack of affection for him.

"He's fighting even as I speak," he paused for a moment, thinking to himself, "open the door."

A steel frame had been built around the twin-doors, its bars grinding against each other as they slid back into the walls for the two doors to part. The smaller Aptosite calmly stepped through, Aludon cautiously following him into a brightly lit hallway. He was nearly blinded by the tubular lights built into the spot where the walls met the ceiling, extending down the hall in a seemingly endless row.

His instincts told him he should retreat back into the laboratory, but the door had already closed behind him, the steel bars sliding back into place.

"Come." The Aptosite said, dragging himself down the hallway.

In the light, one could truly see why Aludon had been chosen. Twelve feet of long sinuously defined muscle stalked the hallway with feline grace, his tail pointing straight out, swaying to and fro like a reptile's. His skull was rather large in particular - made so to accommodate his impressive jaw size, more than powerful to crush the good doctor's head like an apple.

"Prepare Aludon for deployment. I believe he's ready."

After a few minutes of walking, the pair had reached their destination: a drop-pod with Aludon's name engraved in the center. Something inside him... a voice in his head told him it was alright to step in, that he would fulfill his purpose and become one with the dragon battling below.

Aludon leaped inside, the pod sealed shut, and a screen descended before his face, giving him a real-time display of exactly what he was in for.

--

He saw a white beast, its body teeming with electrical discharge crackling all over its body, his eyes a translucent blue, matching pearly white teeth. Two scars streaked down his arms, starting at the triceps before ending at the underside of his forearms, no less than a few inches from his elbows. Its frame was bulky and humanoid, though still managed to retain substantial detail which that pointed at his true race: dragon.

His name?

Zucroas.

His claws were currently caught wrist deep in the elongated mouth of a fellow Aptosite - Raizer. Zipper-like teeth lined both sides of every limb, including a special surprise one hidden behind his ponytail. His features were sharp and pointy like a kingfisher's crossed with a komodo dragon's, only shorter and more narrow, his thin tail threatening to lash his enemy across the face.

The dragon's body surged, his maw wrenched open as he bit directly into Raizer's throat, then jerked up, slinging him into the air. Not one to be outdone, however, the Aptosite dug his hands directly into the dragon's shoulders, swinging forward with all his might and then wrapped his shins firmly around the his opponent's upper-ribcage, biting and squeezing with his powerful teeth.

The beast fell forward, driving Raizer into the ground with enough force to form an outline of his body in the ground. Rage overcame Zucroas then, both scars secreting a gel-like substance, containing vast amounts of searing electricity, that the dragon smothered him in, through means of a bone crushing bear hug, nostrils widening as he took in the scent of flesh being reduced to mere ashes before him.

He was now ready to deliver the finishing blow, but he had one final trick up his sleeve. His mouths had ingested the gel, diluting it down into something he could safely drive back into Zucroas. They vomited it up all over the dragon, only this time they contained small bacteria which devoured Zucroas' lightning, and released it back into him, only in such vast amounts that he would end up overloading himself.

Zucroas screamed then, his roar nearly blowing out Raizer's ear-drums as he fell to the ground in a twitching heap, both warriors spent. Raizer let go, rolling over a few times. He had accomplished his mission... and so, it was time for a well-deserved rest.

--

Aludon's drop-pod slammed into the ground, forming a small crater as it threw chunks of dirt and grass into the sky.
He stepped out then, almost crawling along the ground as he carefully placed one claw before the other, examining his exhausted new friend. His tail rose up, beating against the ground in an attempt to wake the dragon up -- he wanted him to know what was coming, and embrace it.

The only thing there for Zucroas to see, however, was the shadow of a monster looming over him, and before he knew it, he had already fu--

~*~

WAKE UP!

Alucroas screamed, shrieked, hissed and roared as he tumbled through the abyss, unable to control his fall. Although his wings flapped, his muscles refused to cooperate, exoskeleton splintering as a bulge formed on his back. The pain was unbearable - whipping his body back and forth as a second tail formed from the original, splitting off and still growing. The process repeated itself several times over, it felt like something was tugging the cords wrapped around his brain, guiding him like a horse.

Ah...

Mitosis ran rampant throughout his body like wildfire, everything was dividing, breaking off to form new bones, new flesh, new structure. Before he knew it, Alucroas could hear the cry of his brother -- not from the inside -- but right there next to him.

Alutrosity's enormous head sprouted from the back of Alucroas' neck, their flesh still stuck together, but not for long as the older brother pushed down on his siblings shoulders, making room for his ribcage. Had he not gone through so much already, Alucroas' spine would have surely been broken by the force of Alutrosity's foot slamming into his back finally freeing himself.

--

Far above Narcissus two black outlines were falling from the sky, leaving only the crimson-sapphire glow of their eyes visible. The smaller of the two managed to gain control over its fall at the last possible second, swooping right passed the Herald as he landed on the muddy ground and kept on running, shrieking and howling along the way, before disappearing into the darkness of the dreamscape.

Alutrosity landed a mere split-second later, his knees nearly buckling as he impacted the semi-solid ocean, immense waves blasting off in all directions.

"I'll be sure to never let him pilot our body through that place again."

A split-second later, his eyes were downcast onto Narcissus, lips twitching as he contemplated ending the monster for having him go through all that chaos.

[FullMetalBoy]

The Princess gave them a very warm, grateful smile. Gently squeezing her daughters hand before reaching into the basket and pull out a very fat sack of gold. Offering it to the friendly farmer and his wife.

“Please, take this in exchange for two bags of your finest crops when it is ready. I believe thirty thousand gold should cover that, yes?” She asked, a coy smile spreading across her features. Planning on refusing any denial of this generous donation.

“Oh yes, please accept it. I have heard many great things on the quality of your crops. I would also like to extend a hand of... employment.” He spoke with a look of amusement plastered across his face, rather enjoying the bamboozled look on the farmer and his wifes face.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Shadows loomed over the pure black figure, defined only by a lithe outline. Large golden, seemingly iron wrought in design. Emeralds lining the large stone columns on either side, behind these gates rested a single crimson eyes. Staring at the outline with what one could easily describe as loathing, the slanted pupils glaring at it.

“Well, aren't you a bit... irritated.” Said the outline, glancing up at the hate filled eye with a fleeting look of boredom.

“KISHINJIRADEN!” Its disembodied voice echoed through the void, causing the.. ground? To vibrate.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here, you filthy piece of garbage!”

“Well... I am here to negotiate the terms of your release.” He spoke blandly, twirling his finger around what appeared to be a strand of shadow-esque hair.

“My release?”

“Yes you giant eye. Your release. Do you want to listen?”

“Speak now or die.” He snarled, the ground rumbling from the pure power behind it.

“Calm now, no need to be so angry. The terms are simple, we let you out and you offer Ran your power. If you can't do that, we'll see you right back up and you can watch Ran and the Princess procreate. If you do this properly, we'll give you more of a free reign and allow you a body to wander Ran's mind. You'll still see everything from behind a protective veil, though.”

“Why in all of Earnial should I even think of helping Ran?”

“Because you get to stretch your... eyelids.” It chuckled slightly, enjoying his little joke.

It snarled its reply, indicating its agreement as the golden gates seemed to crumble. No, not crumble. Dematerialize. Yes, that was the better word. The eye seemingly shook as the scene faded away, turning back to Ran, The Princess and the farming couple. Back to the serene happiness of the picnic, the children laughing as the dog licked their faces. So far, everything was completely perfect.

[Odium]

((OOC: For the sake of clarity, I just wanted to clarify that the flashback in this post was briefly mentioned in my intro. It all takes place at the same time, but in order to split it up and keep it from getting too big (and it seemed appropriate given the content as well) I wedged the part of my post set in the present in the middle. It was a stylistic choice, nothing more.))

AFTER DARK BUT BEFORE DREAMING

Wake up, Theo.

“Hnng?”

Wake up, Theo. It’s time to get up now.

Theodoros felt like a boy waking up on the Friday before a vacation, still faintly covered in the dream-dust of a long and restful sleep. He squinted his eyes against the bright light assailing them, rubbing the sand away with thumb and forefinger while he struggled to sit up. His limbs felt stiff from disuse. How long had he been asleep?

So long, Theo. Too long. Stand up. Face the light.

He pushed himself to his feet. The ground lacked texture. He expected the soft, pliable touch of his mattress, or maybe even grass between his fingers, or at least the rough friction of concrete… nothing. Overhead, the light intensified, growing from a star into a window into a massive disc, but no matter how large it became, it never seemed to illuminate the darkness surrounding him.

So he looked up, unsure of what he expected to find there.

In an instant his eyes boiled over like the oceans beneath an asteroid, sizzling and burning as if had stared at the sun for too long. He let out a half-groan half-scream of pain and surprise and looked away, vision instantly refocusing to the cool shadows encircling him. Soothing, so comfortable, so friendly. Vague impressions of shapes and depth surrounded him, and in the distance, he thought he heard the sounds of breakers on a midnight shore… somewhere so tantalizingly close, but too far away to distinguish clearly from the silence.

I know you can feel it… the cold blade of rejection slipping between your ribs, the needles playing pincushion with your eyes. The country of light you cling to has rejected you, Theodoros Spyredes… You looked up in search of salvation and were forced to turn away. I know what it’s like. I’ve felt it too…

Before, Theodoros had feared the thing behind that chilling, birdlike voice. He had feared the incredible madness bound inside an almost human body. Now he felt numb to it. He was still afraid – it was difficult not to be, alone in the dark with only his shadow to keep him company – but he had known the same fear for too long to be truly aware of it anymore. He didn’t sweat or cry or shake, his heart didn’t beat as frantically as it once had. Sometimes he couldn’t feel it beat at all.

“What do you want?”

A patch of darkness in front of him twitched and quivered, opening up like an eldritch flower. Eyes with the color and depth of a glacial crevasse leered at him out of the dark. Lips the color of wine fine hovered below them, pouting then smiling, frowning and parting in silent laughter. Theo had seen those eyes - looked through them himself - often enough that he could almost read the expression of the expressionless.

Was it fear he saw? Or anger?

Once I offered you a place inside my heart, Theodoros. I offered you my own kind of light, what little I could… but there’s no light left, Theo. Not in me, anyway. Instead, I’ve come here as a king and a teacher. You will do what I ask of you now, but you will not do it in ignorance. You will do it despite your hatred and your revulsion, not because I am forcing you to, but because you will see that it is right.

“Go away. I’m sick of you and your lies.”

No lies, Theo. Not anymore. Only the dim light I must show you while I still can. It’s borrowed light, Theo, borrowed from the past, but we make do with what we have…

Theo opened his mouth to retort again, but before he even had a chance, those glacial eyes expanded and grew like another ice age, until they dwarfed him by cartoonish caricature proportions. They centered on him, nearly crossing and adding even more to the gross absurdity of the whole situation. Pale blue television light covered his face.

Then those giant eyes winked out, and for an instant Theodoros was alone again, till a totally different image replaced them on his own private mental I-MAX. He was standing just before the beach, looking out onto a vast shimmering ocean that stretched far back into the horizon. A thin film of algae covered the entire expanse, and without touching it, Theo knew it would have the texture of slime.

The sand remained totally undisturbed. Besides the very occasional waves and a residue of dead primordial soup, nothing had touched it for thousands and thousands of years. However, the tilt of the unseen camera moved forward, so that it showed, for the first time in all the planet’s long and turbulent history, two primitive arthropods ascending to the surface. They scurried blindly towards the light, leaving the first tracks that any beach would ever be marked by.

Then, willed by some strange animal impulse, the trilobite turned and latched its primitive mandibles in the exact weak spot of its brother’s carapace, killing it instantly. It hesitated for an instant before, as if nature had decided it wasn’t quite ready to move forward just yet, scuttling back down into the Cambrian sea.

The first sin of many. Watch…

The scenes flew by in a whirlwind and Theo could do nothing but watch as he had been told to; it left him mesmerized, jaw slackening and hanging ajar in dim apelike awe, as his shadow led him into the light.

~*~

WHERE DREAMS COME TO DIE

Narcissus scrutinized the evolving dream, intrigued by the strange laws that bound it. The portal behind him slid shut as he sensed the guest he had invited would be arriving through other means. While he waited, he observed the little globes and the transient worlds developing inside them. As he watched the ocean, however, his attention was drawn away by the aerial clash erupting far above the sea of cords connecting dreams to their respective dreamers.

He caught only a glimpse as a shape detached itself from the hulking creature and went fleeing into the distant mists. He didn’t react as the remaining monstrosity plummeted to the earth like an asteroid, impacting the water. The resulting tidal waves seemed to phase through the dreams, for they went undisturbed, and the water itself parted to accommodate Narcissus.

His tentacles thrashed as he listened to Alutrosity’s deep, guttural growl. Despite his repeated confrontations with the beastly pair, it was his first time ever talking to this aspect of the being in person. He met the red-blue mismatched stare expressionlessly.

“I imagine that will be so, provided either of us see our second selves again in this lifetime.” Even as he said the words, the flesh on his chest opened up to reveal a grotesque maw full of razor sharp teeth, spittle sliding between them and trailing down his torso obscenely. His jaw worked itself off its hinges, the bottom part stretching out so that he could vomit up his humanity without damaging its fragile skin.

A shape emerged from deep inside the cavernous pit behind the mouth as Narcissus hastily disgorged Theodoros Spyredes, who had long thought himself lost forever. When his blue eyes opened for the first time in millennia, he did not scream as he saw the two horrors he was caught between; he stood up, brushed the saliva off himself as best he could, and looked at Narcissus inquisitively. Even as he did, Narcissus himself seemed to lose some of his corporeality, becoming a shade more translucent than he had been before.

Tentacles wriggled free from Theo’s soft body, which he doubted would be human for much longer.

“Go.”

Theo nodded obligingly, opening his mouth to speak but in the end saying nothing. Two massive, leathery wings split the skin on his back, and after a few probing flaps he took flight, soaring high up into the air in the direction that Alucroas had taken when he fled.

“I suspect they will be drawn towards the second source of chaos. When I came here, I noticed the Dark Realm’s strange reaction to this entire situation… It seemed like those massive waves were crashing up against something, or stretching around it, like skin being pushed apart by a tumor rising up through to the surface.

My better half already knew he would need to investigate. Partly I think he is being complacent because he knows that the worst that could happen is he will die and be free of me forever.”

He smiled bittersweetly and raised a slender hand up. Like a wilted flower returning to life, the dream that contained their quarry floated up so that the orb dangled just in front of Alutrosity’s face.

“Snip the vine and slip inside. Our enemies fight their own battle within the dream itself. Before you do, however, I suggest you contemplate your purpose for being here. I go because fate demands it, and I’ve called you here because only their deaths will restore relative peace to the Dark Realm. Decide on your own whether you will throw your life away in search of that peace.”

~*~

AFTER DARK AND BEFORE DREAMING

“I see.”

He could say nothing else in the face of what he had just witnessed. His mind begged for rest and his eyes were bloodshot and dry from the strain, but his body longed for satiation.

I have not shown you everything. We don’t have time. Now, however, you understand what you must do.

“Yes.”

You will do it.

“Yes.”

Then I have but one more thing to add.

A hand reached out of the dark. Theo recoiled instinctively, raising a hand of his own to swat it away, but Narcissus’ index and middle finger merely touched his forehead before receding back into the shadow, leaving a faint crystal speck between his eyes. It glowed, and for an instant all the blood vessels, capillaries, veins and arteries in Theodoros’ face were highlighted as the information coursed through them, filling not only his brain but his entire body.

Despite himself, his lips curled up into a rare and much needed smile. “I see.”

[Circ]

A dream cradled a nightmare, and, upon the former, columns of pale mist scraped the crowns of the few whitecaps that rose from the icy slurry of a frozen sea. A sea that, for all its heaviness, was not calm, but defined by an uneven turbulence that precipitously crashed into trenches and assaulted the storm above when its currents battered futilely against the staggered shelves of submerged reefs. Certainly it was tumultuous, yet silence, cold, and the terror of inexorable death pervaded its surface. Even the frequent clash of thunderheads in the violent sky came as a distant and forgettable din—a white noise that, infused with the bitter chill, numbed the mind and induced the soul to still deeper and troubling dreams.

For both violence and silence were causes; not semi-corporeal vagaries, but absolutes: the collision of monster with nature and the dread of a dream becoming a nightmare becoming reality.

Like driftwood from an ancient wreck, the Sounder contrived to appear wooden, lifeless, and frail. Its entangled segments were blanketed under a heavy layer of hoarfrost, crystallized salt, and sinuous bands of algae. No more real than the stench of brine, the wetness of the place, or the way distance faded into an indeterminate haze, the pieces of its form drifted capriciously, froze into bergs, thawed, rode the torrent of a risen tsunami, and washed ashore on ice shelves—only to later be reclaimed by the tide. Over what seemed like ages, this timeless ebb of sameness amidst the subtlety of change swallowed SMD’P whole as it stalked, watched, and waited for Idea’s will.

Again, its segments washed ashore like driftwood.

Again, it was not alone with those who thought they were alone.

Then, with vulgar familiarity, the whiteness of the mist above SMD’P darkened, like virgin’s blood on a wedding gown, and a voice—no, not a voice, an impression—nibbled at the backdrop of its thoughts.

“What are you doing … betrayed … Narcissus” came the words.

Without question, it, the Sounder, knew they came from Hellion just as it had known that Hellion was near the Resonance Gate on Mire; that warm light spilled on it in the corporeal plane; and that, just as assuredly as Narcissus betrayed the Val’Gara, it was guided to this metaphysical place by Idea to mete out justice and reclaim the life, hunger, and power awakened in Theodoros Spyredes.

One word—an accusation—taunted SMD’P, obnoxious as a drape of dead flesh still strung to a severed, but still vital, limb.

Betrayed ...

Hellion continued to talk, and talk, and not shut up.

Betrayed …

What Hellion said no longer mattered; his words weren’t worth the neurons that fired them.

I … betrayed?

The silence the Sounder fed back was rife with malevolence and more poignant than being thrown and raped on a bed of needles. Steadily, it congealed into a dull buzz, which thickened, nagged almost imperceptibly at the subconscious mind, and swelled into a drone that twisted, split, and became increasingly potent. Just when the noise became discernible, a pentasyllablic reply was given,

“Following orders,”

… and, all at once, the torrent exploded into Hellion’s brain with the shock of a neutron star going super nova. Sound—no, not sound; rather, pyschic pressure—throbbed so profoundly that thought and the psi-link overpowered all other senses and plunged the self-assured horror-wrangler into blindness, deafness, and drowned even his sense of touch in co-mingled hate-chants of stygian torment. It was profane, not only in its content, but in the fact of its execution—an unprecedented and treacherous abuse of the psi-link, such as would be employed by a cast-out Herald.

“The cowardly are scared into obedience, the brave are twisted to Idea’s will, but for those with minds such as Narcissus’—corrupt, warped, and malignant—there is only one thing to be done for such minds before they can be brought back into the fold:”

In the midst of that mental induction, a segment of SMD’P tore loose from the Resonance Gate like a whip made of rebar and twisted around Hellion’s throat. It tightened assiduously and from its creases dripped acid that steamed when it struck the Mist. The tip stabbed into a nostril, burrowed ferociously until Hellion’s face bulged outward beneath an eye, and twitched to a rest next to his tongue.

“YOU CRUSH THEM.”

Before a hummingbird could flap its cute little wings, Hellion was rammed face-first through the blur of the Resonance Gate and into the frigid dream that would give birth to a nightmare. Without, a trail of infernal red Mist drifted like a sanguineous queef around the clitoris-shaped knot of a mucus-covered segment that grasped a mass of tongue.

Steadily, the Mist dissipated, the segment returned to its former guard, and Mire turned its face to a more distant star. In the place of light was night, and nightmares, and the dreamy surreality of the astral plane through which SMD’P—and, now, Hellion—traveled into the Dark Realm and, deeper still, into the malignant anachronism of half-thoughts and others best abandoned beyond reach or recall.

A disembodied voice, piercing, singing, playful, and inviting waltzed the waves of that false place and pleaded, ‘Narcissus! Come play with us, Narcissus. Oh, Narcissus, come play with us!’.

[Arrogance]

Snivel Greedskull salivated as he followed the fat sack of wealth with his eyes. He was a coin connoisseur, as his name betrayed, and he could roughly tell the amount of money in a container just by the shape or weight of it. Daedalus had enchanted all of the scouting party’s vision, and with the order for them to fall back and cover the flanks and rear, they were mostly keeping an eye on Ran as well as the patrols. Greedskull slunk out from his magical camouflage, kneeling into a bush that was near the tree he melded with. Silently, he withdrew his bow and knocked two arrows. His eyes followed the bag and his lips smacked.

One of his colleagues took notice of his actions—coming out of hiding—and addressed him. “Snivel…? What the fuck’re you doing?”

Snivel’s sharp rat-like features and his treacherous nature made him one of the least-liked members of the entire party. He was rash, cowardly, and worst of all greedy, greedy to a fault. Some thought Snivel would sell out his own mother and father for a sixpence, and they weren’t far from the truth, but he had his uses. Snivel was an excellent liar, a formidable spy, and good with numbers. However, he was a lousy shot. All the more reason his cohort was alarmed. The scout next to him saw the same as Greedskull had, and knew his comrade well enough to guess what would happen next.

“Snivel? Snivel!” he exclaimed in an angry whisper. “Put the fucking bow down. Now.”

He went ignored as Greedskull knocked a second arrow and drew his bow in the cover of the bush. Snivel muttered to himself like a madman, fully focused on the prize, whilst ignoring the consequences that would surely follow. The other man gritted his teeth in anger. Ordinarily, their arrows wouldn’t reach this far, outside of a volley, and the sudden blast of wind would make even a volley a difficult shot. None of that mattered, however. Daedalus enchanted all of their weapons to fire as far as their eye could see with unerring accuracy. It wasn’t a question of whether or not the bow could make the shot; it was more of a question if Snivel could, himself.

Snivel smiled, his eyes tearing with anticipation. The golden doubloons were so close he could actually taste their metallic coating. His associate’s voice seemed like it was a million miles away as he drew a bead on his target. Two arrows were better than one, right? It doubled his chances of nabbing the coin purse. He rationalized it all in his head.

However…

He knew he had made a grave mistake the second he let go.

***

“Bamboozled” was not the word to describe the look upon Harrald and Delilah’s faces when they were presented with the small fortune dangling from the Princess’s fingers. The entire picnic went silent. Even the dog tilted its head, unable to utter a timid whimper. Only the rumbling of the quickly-encroaching storm interrupted the awkward silence; they would all forgive its faux pas. A piercing mistral penetrated the hillocks, rustling the blades of grace in a shrill whistle, and then groaned as the boughs of the old walnut tree reverberated in a frantic shiver. The princess sat there with the sack of weighty gold which swayed like a pendulum in the sudden breeze. The magnitude of such coin would forever alter Harrald, Delilah, their child, and even their dog’s lives.

The two sat there, slack jawed, staring at the purse. Delilah thought her water would break any second. Harrald had never earned that much money in his entire life. The culmination of all his worldly wealth could not amount to the sack the Princess so flippantly exchanged for wheat. Their wheat. Wheat. Harrald and Delilah’s lowly crop, that the two could and routinely did sell for copper on the pound, just made them a small fortune. How different their lives would be had he not decided to listen to his wife?! How different would her life be had she not convinced her husband?! How different would their lives be had they not married, or had they sold their farm to the fat-faced noble for seventy gold, or had Harrald become a watchmaker (like he wanted to when he was a child), or had he decided to harvest one week prior. Harrald’s entire life played before his eyes, from the moment of his conception until this very second. And an argument could be made whether Delilah had slipped into a coma or not, judging by the vegetable-like stare she gave the sack.

The dog noticed something was amiss and finally offered them the guerdon for their silence: a long whine.

It was unfortunate for them, however, that they would not even be able to enjoy their gifts. Two arrows whiffed through the air and landed, one embedding into one of Ran’s children, killing him instantly. It was a painless death, hitting the child in the spinal column would cause him to black out and never awake from his slumber. The other arrow pierced their dog, and it let out a short-lived yelp. Their companion’s death would be quite a bit more excruciating, as the missile buried itself in the dog’s abdomen. Thunder welcomed the inevitable combat; the blood of the slain wrought fertile land to fallow field. All would suffer to what was to follow.

***

Hephaestus, Markus’ archmage, made his presence known with a quick incantation that would open the castle gates. Two spectral giants manifested themselves underneath the portcullis as shadowy, misshapen clouds that slowly gained humanoid forms as they raised the gates. Taking full figure the giants knelt to their liege and bore the gateway like atlas burdened the world. The caravan entered, and was met by the blades and bows of the castle guard. Were they to force their way to the king, they would surely be met with heavy resistance and casualties. Above, the darkened sky cried upon the kingdom, it had already fallen; they just didn’t know it, yet. Storm clouds roiled as lightening streaked across the sky and a sickly green hue backlit the temperamental ebony clouds.

“Stand aside, you miscreants,” Hephaestus announced. “We must have word with the king.”

The mage waved his hand and the soldiers, like faithful drones, parted the way to the castle. The carriage rode in, unopposed.

[Totsuka Tenjin]

The Monstrosity's lips slowly stopped quivering as he listened Narcissus' speech -- as much as he hated to admit it, there had been some truth behind his words -- even with his brother's sense of calm now scattered to the wind, he had faith that his newfound insanity would lead him down the right path.

His gaze shifted to the upside down tree, exoskeletal plates parted to reveal a vast number of tendrils woven deep into his flesh, which ended in barbed points around his wrists, buzzing with electric current. All at once they began to probe the water, poking and prodding at the other dreams, before peeling them apart like onions. In one he saw a man living out his wildest sexual fantasies, in another he observed a scrawny nerd wailing away on a group of jocks who had likely been bullying him, and in the last he witnessed a girl jumping up and down on some fat man's stomach as if it were a trampoline.

"The multiverse is so bizarre," he commented to himself, "almost as much as you are."

Alutrosity raised his massive head, scrutinizing the orb which dangled before him. His gut told him that Alucroas was headed in the right direction, and yet his instinct told him he should be taking Narcissus' advice and head into this little dream, soon-to-become a contagious nightmare.

"Very well," he said with a sigh, "I shall follow your lead for now, if only because I have no other leads to go on."

He yanked all but one of his tendrils away, paying little heed to the damage those slime-covered barbs may have caused to the dreamers as he retracted them back into his exoskeleton. A mere whiplash motion was executed, and the vine had been severed, causing the orb to expand and accommodate the entryway which he promptly began to step into.

He stopped halfway inside and turned around to face his new "ally".

"Be wary, for if this is a trap, I'll pluck those little petals off you, one by one."

~*~

In no small way, Alucroas' mental state had been reduced to that of a child, a little boy running lost through an endless playground in search of his parents. However, as he had learned through many years, he was never alone. As always, they were by his side in spirit, their presence made known by the dark-green scars which streaked his triceps and came to a halt at the inner-side of his forearms.

Small eyes -- the same color as his own -- developed within those marks, and soon, there were horns protruding outwards, the mouths of draconic serpents followed suit as they slithered their way out. The two parental figures had no trouble keeping up with their son, black wings sprouted from their backs to carry them up into the sky, their shadows just barely visible to Alucroas, who now released an exalted sigh of relief.

For now, he was once again calm, but the peace was not to last.

Overhead he could see a multitude of dimly glowing portals, slowly increasing both in size as well as the intensity of the light they emitted. Behind him, a lengthy bulge rolled across what he perceived as a the ceiling, droplets of Dark Realm fluid falling from the sky and splashing him across the face. It almost resembled the beginnings of a storm moving above him, its severity growing more dangerous by the minute until, finally, almost eerily... it passed -- and rather than fading from view, appeared as if the cloud which it had spawned from emptied itself out.

The beast almost decided to dismiss it as a strange anomaly of the dreamplane, but then something even stranger happened. A colossal swell started rising in the distance, moving just slowly enough for Alucroas to keep up with, but the closer he got, the father away it seemed to move.

It was picking up speed!

Soon, it would become quite evident that those megatsunamis from before were not just random fluctuations of the Dark Realm's chaotic state, but rather those waves were searching for something... guided by the world's semi-sentience. The deluge from a few seconds ago was merely the tsunami's way of seeping onto the dreamscape undetected, disguising itself as a simple waterfall.

If Theo were paying any attention, he was about to receive his first lesson in how to keep up with a fast-moving object, especially when one was covered in the liquidy substance of the Dark Realm. A portal opened on Alucroas' face, formed from the raindrops he had been splashed with. Alucroas jumped into it, and seemingly disappeared only to leap out behind the swell, which -- in actuality -- was the same megatsunami he had witnessed earlier, only it had just finished taking advantage of Alucroas' entrance into the dreamscape to manifest itself as a downpour of biblical proportions.

The abomination had discovered his path, just as his older brother had predicted he would. This megatsunami was directing itself, steering its way toward its destination, making it quite difficult for Alucroas to keep up, or so one might think. He merely utilized the same tactic, forming a portal from yet another raindrop that had fallen on him earlier, once again leaping through and exiting out the back of the tsunami and turning around so as to continue following.

At times, he'd enter into a portal on the side of his body, and be forced to barrel roll into it, at others, one would appear on his tail and he'd nearly miss, being forced to leap into a back-flip, so as to make it in, only appear on the other side like an upside down lion who had just dove for his next meal.

~*~

Time seemed to slip away while his progress remained infuriatingly slow -- already he could feel his blood begin to boil. Every step the Monstrosity took was plagued with caution, partially for himself, but more so for the cretin who followed behind. Alutrosity wanted to make damn sure he wasn't being led astray, his luminous eyes alight like a crocodile's as a different kind of light worked its way into his eyes.

Slowly the light began to form colors, and those colors began to form shapes; a vast mountain range overlooked a gorgeous vista, where men plowed fields, a horse-carriage wheeled by, a group of strangers were getting together for a picnic. Had he not been on a mission, the colossal beast might have even felt guilty for havoc he was about to wreck upon their poor little home.

Eventually he came to a transparent wall through which he could view everything going on in crystal clear definition. Alutrosity pressed his claws against the wall in attempt at easing his way in... After all, he wanted whoever was creating this chaos to feel the same, bone-chilling fear that he, himself had felt, and was currently engulfed in.

Fear that he might never see his brother again after this fight.

Fear he might die for real this time.

And fear he that his all his efforts might be in vain tonight.

His eyes... now like perfect circles narrowed just a bit as he focused on his new objective: shattering the wall before him like a locomotive derailing into a skyscraper made entirely out of glass.

The Monstrosity bent his knees and curled his tail into a mighty arch behind him, electricity showering his entire frame as he prepared to throw that w.m.d of his forward. The rigid muscles of his tail tucked tightly into one another, his right leg planted solidly in front, with the left planted firmly behind, his body now streamlined. Then, with the force of a wrecking ball with rocket-engines attached to the back, he slung it forward, listening to the sharply curved bone at the end split the air in two before driving hardly an inch into it.

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Alutrosity swung his tail back and drove it back in over and over again, endlessly repeating the action only to take out naught but a small chip of the wall before him. It was frustrating him, his claws balled into fists, his double-jaws firing out from his mouth, his tendrils which were little more than an excess of fleshy veins pumping his very blood that carried enough acidic potency to melt through steel...

And yet, it still wasn't enough.

"AAAAAAHHHHH...break, goddamn you!"

Perhaps something had heard the beast's cry, for when he made that last shout, he heard a distant rumbling noise coming at him from behind. The crashing of waves flipping over one another as they rushed down the hall, as one, concentrated, gargantuan megatsunami, separate from the one Alucroas and Theo were now in hot pursuit of.

It slammed into Alutrosity who was quick to brace himself, tendrils anchoring themselves to the ground he stood on, wings folding in front of him to form a protective shield, only for both to be wiped out almost instantaneously. In a moment of irony, it was the wave itself, slamming his body into the wall before him that formed the fracture which would prove advantageous to him.

Submerged deep underwater, his form obscured by air bubbles escaping from the newly formed fissures, Alutrosity was somehow able to maintain focus, and overcome the pain coursing through him. He reared his tail back once more, this time succeeding in causing the fracture to expand. Again he bit down, ripping away chunk after chunk of the dream wall, tendrils pumping acid-blood which corroded away at the cracks, until finally, whatever bastard who had caused this whole mess could see a gigantic, fourteen-hundred foot tall behemoth, whose sheer girth nearly eclipsed the sun behind him, his crimson sapphire eyes appeared as ripples beneath the massive waterfalls of the stuff composing the Dark Realm. His body was sheathed in a plated exoskeleton, baring a striking resemblance to armor, due to the way it seemed to expand and grow slightly hollow at the ends of each limb, especially at his neck where it seemed to collar out and upwards.

Obsidian claws wrapped themselves around a broken fragment and tore it free, right before he kneed another piece and stepped forward, thrusting his foot into the last chunk, annihilating it with such force that it sounded like glass breaking. Pure destruction followed his every footstep as he trudged his way down the mountains, half-stumbling at certain points as he gradually accelerated into a vicious charge.

Trees were nearly uprooted by the blast-wave of his throaty roar, and the powerful gust that came from his wings flapping themselves dry, only to be torn right out of the earth by the ensuing flood which rushed down between the Monstrosity's legs. Hefty portions of land were violently ripped out, washed away in gushing torrents of water that came from a world which had been plunged into a state of dissonance, and now carried a plethora of creatures whose minds were just as unstable.

Finally, and quite abruptly, he ceased his charge, staring both giants dead in the face from afar, his tail smacking against the ground, pulverizing the mountain rubble he'd left in his wake. Surely, with the death of two children and a beloved dog, Alutrosity's presence here, preceded by his startling entry would've let all who dwelt here know that every, single, one of them was about to receive their first bloody baptism, courtesy of the beast.

"My whole family once got fucked.

My whole mind is STILL fucked.

My whole world just got fucked.

My BROTHER might just be fucked.

So... which one of you wants to get fucked first?"

[Athanasius]

“Following orders,” the words of The Sounder resonated in his mind, cascading through the thoughts which had previously surrounded him. The Mist reacted instinctively, preparing to mentally shield his body from whatever The Sounder might be contemplating, whatever orders he was following. It spread through the cracks and crevices of Hellion’s decayed, corrupted mind. It covered the surface of the fiend’s thoughts, trying in vain to guard them from the assaults they both knew SMD’P was more than capable of unleashing upon them.

It was a futile effort, but Hellion would later commend it as a gracious, wondrous thing to be done. The Sounder’s psychic storm rumbled in his mind and broke down his body. Heavier than all the words of Idea, the pressure rent Hellion useless. His mind seemed to shatter, and even the half-sentience of the Astral Plane could not have done so much damage so quickly. His hands, though useless for grabbing or clutching, tried to shield his ears - even as he knew they were not the source of the forlorn noise’s intrusion.

His knees touched the broken, cracked ground around the Resonance Gate, his eyes closed and his mouth released a blood-curdling scream of wrath and pain. Throughout the pressure, the static-noise pulsating through every molecule of his body, came the voice of The Sounder. Its words struck something inside Hellion, perhaps the remnants of the kind heart Jamal Noechra had once held - long before his assimilation into the horde.

“The cowardly are scared into obedience, the brave are twisted to Idea’s will, but for those with minds such as Narcissus’ - corrupt, warped and malignant - there is only one thing to be done for such minds before they can be brought back into the fold.”

Even as the great beast spoke, the words seared into Hellion’s mind and body. Its tendril of body wrapped about his throat, only to disappear into his nose and come back out of his mouth. His entire body was in pain, even The Mist was screaming in agony at the touch of the beast. It broke through Hellion’s flesh in dozens of places. Hellion tried to contain it, to use it to protect himself but it was for naught. The Mist had long held a sentient mind of its own, and Hellion was but its toy puppet on a string. A bargain between them had been kept for many, many years, and now The Mist was making good on its end. It was trying to leave Hellion, so that he may die on his own.

“YOU CRUSH THEM!”

The Mist stopped fighting, realizing the futility of trying to escape the Sounder while such a mental assault was being played out. None were immune to the burden the monster had set upon them, and fighting would only make it worse. Hellion couldn’t move his body, and he could barely comprehend the voices in the psi-link, but they remained intact. He could still sense The Sounder, could see through his eyes. He saw how pitiful he looked, sitting there on his knees before the creature in such agony and despair. He saw the dreamscape, the world through which Narcissus and Alutrosity - if his memory served him and that was the monster he saw with the traitor - swam. The Dark Realm, which seemed no different from the dreamscape. He could see it all, and the lives of a million beings flashed before his eyes.

Then it was all gone, and for a moment he feared he had finally, truly died.

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The remaining members of The Collective, the creatures linked specifically to Hellion - which spawned from Carnus and Isaak to Azaroth and Hellion - did nothing to intrude upon their master’s parley with The Sounder. Idea had forbidden it, even as it’d begun. Their tasks had been changed, and each knew it without question. Hellion was to go with The Sounder, he was to take on the traitor and his pet monster. Isaak was to find entrance into the dream, a way to get to the wayfarer whom Hellion sought out. The others would remain upon Mire, protecting the gate until they felt their comrades complete their mission.

Even Azaroth, who had yet been unseen, was to make his way to Mire. Protection of the Gate was pertinent to their return, for if Hellion and Isaak were to fail none but Mire could return them to their world. Isaak shifted his stance, turning his face toward the astral-wall protecting the dream from outside intrusion. Yet, another had found his way in. Not through the doorway before him, but through another entrance. Isaak could see the great monster as he crashed down the mountainside, he saw the arrows fired from the trees as they took out the child and his pet.

It was a prophecy of sorts, the death of a pathetic, worthless youngling and its beloved creature. Isaak saw it as the foretelling of Narcissus’ demise, in which Hellion would ring the victory bell - having destroyed the child Narcissus and its pathetic, useless pet Alutrosity. Time in the Astral Plane meant nothing, but even still Isaak could tell he had but only a moment to spare. He called out through the nothingness around him, his mental voice screaming at the monster he could sense within, the one he and the others had been sent to find.

“Wayfarer, give me access to the dream - for I have come in search of you. Idea has sent us to find you, and we have. Allow us to converse openly, face-to-face,” Isaak called out from his mind, sending the thought projection through the wall between them, and letting it echo throughout the dream. It was an open thought, all who could hear it would hear it. For a million light-years the thought would project itself, from one dimensional plane to the next, until the one they sought heard its call.

Isaak pressed his perfectly manicured right hand against the glass-like wall between himself and the mountains directly opposite the monster Alutrosity. And he pushed. Not just with his physical self, but his mental and spiritual body as well. He pushed through the glass, his body phasing into it. Adapting to its structure, until he was one with the substance itself. There he could have stayed forever, protecting the dream from other intruders, but one had already made it in. A great monster who, despite his desire to remain, had to be stopped.

His body fell into the dream, where he landed midways down one of the mountains. Trees lined the ground all around him, and the forest was dense with wildlife and plants alike. A lesser being could have marveled at the unequaled majesty, the unparalleled beauty. Isaak was not a lesser being. With a quick leap of his body, and a redirection of the energy flowing through him, he took flight. A flight that carried him clean into the valley below, where he crashed into the ground just out of Alutrosity’s reach.

“Your presence here is upsetting, and unneeded, monster. We have seen memories of you through our brethren, and we know what you’re doing here. You will not succeed, turn away now before we are forced to cause you untold harm.” Isaak’s voice was cold with hatred, chilled with raged and tempered with the fiery passion of a murderous vagabond. The spikes on his elbows extended, leaping up over his shoulder as his oversized forearms hardened to nearly indestructible shields - though not growing much in size.
The bladed spikes on his elbows would surely rend the beast’s flesh from its body, even its hardened exoskeleton would offer little in the way of protection from Isaak once the first blow rang against his body. He was giving the creature a chance, but only a single one, to save its own life and leave the treacherous dream which it had entered. Yet, despite the consistencies in Isaak throughout all the years, something was different about him. Any who knew him would spot it immediately, but Isaak had yet to come face-to-face with the monster in his past.

His eyes held the same, malicious look of utter destruction as they always held, but they were discolored. Where once had stood a fiery red, or a disdainful black, remained only a pale, translucent grey. All The Collective held these eyes, as it was a mark of their Master, a mark of The Mist. It was empowering.

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Hellion’s eyes sprang open as the pain ceased, and The Mist retracted back into his body. The distance between him and his companions was far, yet he could still feel them so very close to him. It was like they stood on the exact same spot, only a plane of existence apart. He could feel their power running through him, as surely as they could feel his power flowing through them. He turned to the Sounder, whose tendril had finally released him.

“What are we doing in The Dark Realm, Sounder? What is there for us here?”

The Sounder’s eyes focused on Hellion for only a moment, its great maw curling into what Hellion could only assume was a smile of mirth. “We’ve come to kill Narcissus,” it retorted, before it made its weary call into the open air. The call went through the psi-link, which Narcissus - despite his betrayal - still shared when another Herald opened him to their call. It was the call of a madman, stalking his victim through the abandoned factory they sought to escape from. It was a call to come and meet his demise.

It was useless. Narcissus could hear it, of that all were certain, but Narcissus was also a coward. A snake who was afraid of open combat, who hid in the darkest recesses and sought to work his influence from those shadows. Hellion knew it, and so did SMD’P.

“We must continue onwards, he is not here. Follow his path, mutt” Hellion’s scathing reference to the Sounder was brought about by annoyance, and a slight bit of anger, at having been so readily manhandled by the beast. Yet, Hellion spoke with the authority Idea had afforded him. The authority of the Anathema’s heir could not be denied, and the beast would be forced to do as he was told - no matter what he didn’t like about the order given to him.

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Carnus and The Necron Reaver - an unlikely pair to say the least, given their history in the battle for The Resonance Gate, wherein they’d stood on opposite sides of the field - sensed the disappearance of their comrades more than they saw it (especially in Carnus’ case). They did not move to follow, their orders were clear. They were to guard the Gate, protect Mire. They were to, in the worst of scenarios, return to the Horde while the rebirth of their comrades was processed and completed.

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Far from the scene of the battle, two great beings sat upon thrones of skulls and bones. They watched the events unfolding through the eyes of the Heralds, and through the eyes of all things. Their infinite wisdom was equaled only by one another, and deference was shown only through respect. On beast, an imperceptible figure with no discernible features, turned to the other, and his voice projected through his thoughts.

“This is going to be interesting, my friend. Let’s see what our boys are capable of, hm?”

When that awe-inspiring voice rained down upon Hellion, it brought him to his knees. Sent him shivering in pain and despair at the weight it placed upon his body, but the one who heard it now only smiled. His pallid, dry lips curling into a malevolent show of his euphoria at how things were turning out.

“It’s all according to plan, Master.”

“Indeed, Azaroth. All according to plan.”

In unison they folded their hands together, elbows resting on the massive armrests of their thrones, and watched everything unravel right before their very eyes.

[Athanasius]

Due to Tenjin getting himself banned, and his part in this fight being quite central to the main story/RP that's behind it; the fight has been moved to Lagedorre Forums. All posts have been transferred, and the fight will continue there.

We apologize for the inconvenience this may cause any of the readers out there enjoying this test of might.