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The Eye of Terror: End of Terror

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Soul Reaver:
Kitharsis' huge hand claps Soul Reaver on the shoulder - and for a moment, Soul Reaver feels the warmth of real camaraderie, a comforting wisp of conjured memory.  These moments were rare and fleeting, but even through the millenia, they did still mean something.  He returns a smile that says "thank you".

Then Kitharsis launches himself at the Avatar.

Soul Reaver allowed himself just a few moments of contemplation.

Their enemy was a primal force - an embodiment of abstract concepts formed by mortals.  It was the raw stuff of the cycle of life and death, of hope and despair, of all the mad chaos that was life in this universe.

He could see his companions, fighting this horror with fury, passion, hope, and despair, the very concepts that composed this being.

He needed a different weapon.

In his mind crystallized memories of tomes clad in black leather and sealed with chains of lead.  Within were sorceries whose architects had long since been forgotten - dangerous sorceries that Soul Reaver was loathe to wield, for their risk was great.

But as he beholds his companions, each laying their own life on the line to defeat a horror that had corrupted and consumed so many - companions he had unwittingly betrayed through his self-absorbed lack of control - he knows that in this moment, he owes it to them to take the chance.

He sends a mental message to all those fighting alongside him who are not too distracted to receive it.

Stand back.

Soul Reaver's stance loosens and he sheathes Blooddrinker.   His eyes close and he clasps his hands in front of him, one over the other, almost as though in prayer.  Leaden words fall from his lips and are swallowed in silence - no, not silence, but into something even less - swallowed into a place where 'sound' has no meaning at all.

To those sensitive to such things, Soul Reaver's mana reserves seem to boil and then evaporate, as though a vortex of power were sucking everything around him away.  His skin grows cold, frost rimming his eyebrows and creeping over rapidly-cooling skin.

In his mind's eye, Soul Reaver sees the tiniest hairline crack before him.  He reaches out, his imagined fingers grasping and clawing at its edges.  It begins to split.

His heart stops.

Cameron:
Danyael’s echoes explode in a violent shower of spikes that swiftly tear apart Slaanesh’s army of concubines. Their dying shrieks are only matched by the scream of rage that erupts from Slaanesh as they attempt to break away from Danyael.

Mary makes a quick motion with her free hand and reality seems to ripple around her, allowing any errant spikes to seemingly bend around her and resume their previous trajectory once they are safely passed. It is obvious to her now that Danyael had this well in hand the entire time. With her curiosity sated, she simply sheathes her sword at her back and folds her arms, waiting for the end.

Slaanesh shifts their form and shape numerous times trying to escape Danyael’s ire, but it is far too late. The lance Serenitatis strikes true, obliterating the physical form of the Chaos God. Their barrier instantly falls, revealing Mary and Danyael to the rest of the battlefield.

The massive form of the Avatar continues to rain blows down on the equally gargantuan form of Gulgrim, driving him back. A volley of light blasts conjured by Jharm slam into it from all sides, knocking it off balance just as Gulgrim vanishes with a deafening clap of thunder. The countless eyes of the Avatar swirl and search, seeking their quarry. But their attention is drawn by the sudden attack of Kitharsis, Kitharsis’s all out assault appears to be doing some real damage to the weakened Avatar, tearing off swathes of arms and darkening hundreds of eyes in an explosion of gore.

And then, as the Avatar shifts it’s attention once again, Gulgrim reappears behind it. The Avatar is caught completely by surprise and eats the full onslaught of Gulgrim’s attack. All of its remaining arms and eyes are burned from it’s form, leaving nothing but a massive tower of scorched flesh. For a brief and shining moment, all is still, and it appears that the fight has been won.

But then, a flash of blue light, a ripple of changing flesh, and a new eye, as big as Gulgrim's head, opens in the writhing mass of flesh. The eye splits into four eyes, each one representing a Chaos God. Slaanesh’s presence has returned to the Avatar. The four eyes are joined by millions more, all focused on Gulgrim. The burnt flesh begins to reshape itself. And with no warning, a massive spike of cartilage and bone, as big as a city block, bursts from the mass to impale the massive ork and end his WAAAGH for all eternity.

Mary, who has been observing all of this from the sidelines, glances to her right as a warp rift opens. A giant mech, as tall as Gulgrim, bursts from it. It wields a massive two handed blade of energy, which it uses to sever the spike before it can penetrate Gulgrim. The Avatar roars in millions of voices as the mech comes to a halt next to Gulgrim.

“Holy shit! I leave you alone for a few months and you pick a fight with actual Gods?”

The companions instantly recognize the voice of Jihon, distorted as it is by the Triton’s speakers. The massive war machine raises it’s blade, ready to attack again.

“I’m here looking for Cameron and Soul Reaver, but I guess I can spare a few minutes to bail you out of this mess!”

The mass of flesh and eyes that compromises the Avatar of Chaos slinks back, putting as much distance between itself and the companions as it can. Then there is an explosion of power. The mass shifts and grows faster than what should be physically possible. Soon, all the Companions can see before them is a massive wall of teeth, tentacles, blades, eyes, and bone in every direction.

“WE WILL SUFFER YOU FOOLS NO LONGER. YOUR CHANCE TO FLEE HAS ENDED. YOU WILL BE DEVOURED, AND BECOME A PART OF US FOR ETERNITY. YOU WILL CRY FOR DEATH AND DEATH WILL NOT COME. THIS IS THE END.”

The incomprehensible maw begins to close on the Companions. They will have one last chance to fight back before they are swallowed forever,

Shadow Chorus:
'I sure hope dey kept da krooza gud an' close fer dis...' Gulgrim's thoughts seemed unnaturally calm, even to himself, as he gazed at the growing tower of chaos forming in front of his titanic form. Such a thought seemed ridiculously out of place, and incredibly far fetched, considering he knew that his boyz would be keeping close as possible, but wouldn't want to lose their own hides in the collapsing warp rift. Which would also make it difficult for himself and his companions to get out as well. All of these odds seemed to add up to the gargantuan Warboss getting no help from his krew.

But Gulgrim is the Avatar of Gork and Mork, and such things as Odds and Logic mean little when the gods of the Orks are involved.

"Boss!" Gulgrim's cybork eye buzzed with the incoming vox. "We'z 'ere ta 'elp! Big Mek Gazgob ready fer' orders!"

The rumble of massive starship engines begins to shake the surrounding area as the gravitational displacement of an enormous Kill-krooza begins to pulse and pound on what remains of the surface of this place. How something as unreasonably massive as a Kill Krooza managed to slip into this place and not be detected until now is a question for less sane minds to contemplate. What mattered was that roughly ten kilometers of bristling guns and steel was slowly descending toward the battlefield. The Warboss's personal Krooza, the Infinite WAAAGH!!!, had arrived.

"Nice o' you'z ta show up Gazgob." Gulgrim's voice rumbled across the battlefield, heralding the ship as readily as the pressure waves from its slow descent. "Target all da' dakka on dat wall o' spikey good fer nuffin' grot-paste! An' Gazgob, is Gorkamorka still in' da 'old?"

"Yeah boss, why you'z askin? We can't get Gorkamorka down dere ta 'elp out in time 'fore dis 'ole place comes down, we'z gotz' ta kill dis fing an' get goin now!"

"Don't need ya ta drop Gorkamorka. Jus' needed ta know it was dere. An' its big gunz were dere." Gulgrim grinned.

The colossal Warboss raised all of his hands up above his head, as if preparing to brace for something to fall on him. Deep within the most massive holds of the Infinite WAAAGH!!!, the Mega-Gargant, Gorkamorka, slumbered, a colossal titan of destruction that dwarfed even Gulgrim's current scale. And attached to one of the arms of Gorkamorka was a weapon that delivered destruction on a truly incredible scale. That weapon began to spark, to crackle with green lightning, and with a massive -POP-, vanished from the Mega-Gargant's arm.

Materializing into the air above Gulgrim, Gorkamorka's Skullkrusha Mega-Cannon fell onto his braced shoulders. The massive weapon was nearly as large as the Warboss himself, and he held it on his shoulders with all six of his hands like a more traditionally sized soldier would carry a Rocket Launcher. The titanic Warboss grinned, his massive, toothy maw stretching to his ears as he relished the moment about to come.

"If you'z want a ride out o' here on me krooza, you'd bezt get near me, ladz! Da Tellyporta's takin' us up soon as dis fing is good an' proppa frakked! Mista Gazgob! Open Fire!"

The Infinite WAAAGH!!! opened fire, unleashing weapons meant to destroy enemy ships of similar scale and to bombard planets on the tidal wave of chaos flesh before the Warboss, while the Ork himself braced his legs in a firing stance, chuckled, and fired the Skullkrusha. All sound went away for a moment as the weapon went off right next to Gulgrim's ear. Blood began to leak from the sides of his head as his eardrums ruptured from the sheer force of the blast wave, he nearly lost his footing from the recoil, even with six arms to hold the weapon, and a titanic weapon of fortress-leveling destructive capacity fired at relatively short range into the body of the Avatar of Chaos.

Soul Reaver:
Even universes can die.

In most Planes, all reactions eventually slow and stop.  Conversions of energy and mass come to an end.  The universe continues to expand infinitely, tearing itself apart, leaving an endless expanse of nothing.  This void is always there, between the cracks of reality, and the inexorable march of time draws it forth until time itself ceases to have meaning.

That void is devoid of life.  Devoid of change.  Devoid of Chaos.

In death, Soul Reaver is able to reach into that void, splitting apart the world and plunging his hands into it.  The cold of absolute zero engulfs him - the cold so intense that all random movement ceases at an atomic level.

His heart has stopped beating, and it is only his magic and a supreme effort of will that keeps his soul from escaping his body.  Every muscle screams in agony as he closes his fingers.  It feels like trying to move through solid lead, but somehow he manages to close his hand into a fist - and grasp a shard of the void.

With a piercing jolt his heart beats and his glazed eyes focus.  He has not moved since he began the casting, but now the spell is complete.

What manifests from Soul Reaver's clenched hand is hard to describe.  It resembles a blade over ten meters long composed of purest midnight.  Its edges twist and crackle like a captured bolt of black lightning as it swallows and annihilates all light and heat around it.  But that is just how those around Soul Reaver perceive it, for by its very nature it is an absence of form.  It is the Voidblade, a fragment of the end of everything.

Soul Reaver beholds now the towering mass of twisting flesh that is the Avatar of Chaos.  It is a hideous mockery of life, an amorphous terror that would have driven ordinary men insane.  But even in the face of such horror, Soul Reaver found it hard to muster any emotion at all, the proximity of the Voidblade being its antithesis.

Before he can engage, Soul Reaver senses a powerful Warp Gate, and feels the flare of a familiar spirit enter the battlefield.

Jihon's triton mech bursts forward and the voice of his old companion is heard amplified across the battlefield.  With the Voidblade in-hand, Soul Reaver's emotions are suppressed, but for a moment even it cannot hold back the surge of courage and comraderie that swells in his heart.

The Voidblade would swallow the sound of his voice, so Soul Reaver sends a mental message instead.

It is good to fight at your side again, old friend!  You have arrived just in time!

But Soul Reaver is not in a position to enjoy his reunion - not with the death of entropy in his hands, and the Avatar of Chaos roiling toward him.  The voice of the Avatar of Chaos booms forth its proclamation of the companions' doom, yet Soul Reaver is unmoved.  He fixes his target in a steely gaze, braces his feet and runs to meet his fast-approaching foe, the Voidblade held two-handed at his side.

A sonic boom and blast of hot air washes over him as Gulgrim unleashes the Skullkrusha and torrents of weapon fire from the Infinite WAAAGH!!! to bombard the Avatar of Chaos.  Even at a respectable distance, the shockwaves almost make Soul Reaver stumble - a mistake that could well proven fatal.  Fortunately he maintains his footing, and now finds himself in range.

Nothing can truly defeat Chaos.  And it will.

A blaze of red lightning crackles over Soul Reaver as he swings the Voidblade in fast, sweeping arcs, intent on carving his way through shifting flesh to get at the four central eyes of the monstrosity.  He will advance inexorably until victory or death.

Kitharsis:
The maelstrom of sand and crimson energy roils around him still.  On the defensive, Kitharsis quickly jukes out of the way as the massive spike of bone and cartilage bursts from the Chaos Gods.  It wasn't directed at him, but the sheer size of it was a threat not to be taken lightly.  Even so, the spike is unexpectedly cut short as none other than Jihon leaps out of a warp gate piloting his Triton.  Kitharsis smiles from inside the storm.  An unexpected arrival, but a welcome one.

But there is no time for happy reunions, as the Avatar of Chaos quickly pulls away from them.  What follows is an explosion of bone and teeth and whatever else the Avatar can muster from its twisted form.

“WE WILL SUFFER YOU FOOLS NO LONGER. YOUR CHANCE TO FLEE HAS ENDED. YOU WILL BE DEVOURED, AND BECOME A PART OF US FOR ETERNITY. YOU WILL CRY FOR DEATH AND DEATH WILL NOT COME. THIS IS THE END.”

"This is the end, that is certain.  But for who?"  Is Kitharis's reply.

The Avatar of Chaos advances.  The incomprehensible maw closes in, engulfing his vision and the rest of his senses.  It not only seeks to end Kitharsis's life, but all of those who would resist the forces of Chaos.  It cannot be allowed.

The storm around him grows calm.  The whirling crimson sand falls away, carried off with the winds of battle.  His crimson whips, blades, and clubs fade away as the tattoos on his body cease channeling the purified energy inside of him.

Staring at the approaching, endless maw of the Avatar of Chaos, Kitharsis sees no other way.  His reserve of purified energy is vastly depleted.  Not nearly enough.  Any attack he could muster with it would be like a pail of water on an inferno.  He would not survive.  That much is certain.

Ever since he changed into a Tirthandara, the dark well of power has been ever present within him.  And from the first moment, he knew it was pure destruction.  Seductive, addicting, destruction.

Never tap into that fearsome power, Kitharsis.  It will mar your soul, it will grab ahold of you and pull you down into it.  And you will not surface the same, if you do so at all.  The Shaman warned him many years ago.  Even going so far as to threaten his life if Kitharsis even considered it.

He grits his teeth, searching, grasping at anything he has it his disposal.  His ship is too far away, his runes and artifacts all spent or destroyed by now.  He could summon another desert, tenfold deserts, but they would not reach here in time.  He is uncertain if they could even break through the eye in the first place.

In order to save himself, and the rest of the whole Multiverse, he must not fall here.  There is too much more to do.  Too many things he needs to finish before he is done.

He will not fall.  He cannot.

He looks inward.

Kitharsis focuses on the darkness.  As he betrays the vibrant, pure spark within him, the most frightening part of it all is how easily the abyss rises to his call.  It is like stepping in a drawn bath after the longest day.  The veil is lifted.  The lie he has been telling himself for so long given truth.  With no resistance he crosses the threshold, and dives in.

As he plunges himself into the abyss, all of his aches from battle disappear.  Cracked bones, scarred and raw skin, torn muscles and strained tendons, all become wonderful and even better than they ever were before.  The sensation is overwhelming as he draws upon more and more of it, gorging himself on what he once believed was the most vile, most taboo of substances in the universe.  It was bliss.  He gives in completely.

He laughs.  A deep, bellowing laugh that pulls his face into a crazed grin.  The dark power courses through him, building and building.  The crimson of his eyes has given way to darkness.  His unkempt mohawk is drained of its color as it shifts to a platinum grey.

He looks down at the tattoos snaking up his arms.  The straight, clean edges of them crack.  Slightly at first, then all at once they crack and tear and ruin his stony grey skin.  The outer layer shears away as easily as a handful of sand tossed into the wind.  His stony skin now resembles smooth charcoal.  Dull and Dark.

He raises his hand in front of him, clenching his fist.  Dark energy effervesces out of it, lazily floating into the air.  In an instant, his entire body erupts in a cloud of dark energy.  It coalesces around him, hanging thick in the air.

The advancing Avatar of Chaos before him is nearly an afterthought.  His lips curl back into a tight, savage grin as he focuses his attention on the God before him.

The coalescing energy around him explodes forward as he throws his arms wide.  Wicked elements of destruction pour forth from Kitharsis as he roars intensely.  His will, engulfed in darkness, manifests into any weapon he can imagine.  Spears of bone, pulsing with untold energy, rocket toward the Avatar of Chaos.  Blades of enormous sizes sail through the air, their wicked edges keened by the dark power.  Countless obsidian weapons fire at the Avatar of Chaos, their velocity creating sonic booms as they fly.

Yet not only weapons pour forth.  Skeletons of all shapes and sizes clamber forward, empowered moreso than any Kitharsis has created before.  They are relentless in their attack on the maw, reforming as quickly as they are destroyed.  Stabbing, slashing, exploding in bursts of foul magical energy.  Their assault spreads as their numbers continue to increase, threatening to eclipse the size of the maw itself.

Blasts of intense dark energy rain down upon the maw, erupting rapid fire from Kitharsis's position.  He laughs uncontrollably as each manifestation of his power is brought forward.  Each time is better than the last.  He can't help but draw upon more and more of it.

Kitharsis remains, engulfed within the darkness.  Out of his mind with power.  He will not be stopped here.  He will not be stopped ever again.  The darkness rises to his call, eager with its gifts.  He dives deeper into it, the seemingly endless abyss.  Never wanting to surface again.

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