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Author Topic: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)  (Read 37758 times)

Offline Daccio

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #20 on: August 15, 2010, 10:38:25 PM »
Quote
Drach’nyen erupts with green light that is accented by veins of purple. With a cry of unbridled rage, he directs a devastating blow at the massive, horned head of the daemon. Sepher finds that the unfortunate part of being a creature of immense size, is that it makes him a much bigger target.
 

Abbadon’s sword slams into Sepher’s skull, violently knocking him to the ground. A shockwave of chaos-laden energy erupts outward, causing the ground to shake tumultuously. With the daemon dealt with, at least temporarily, Abbadon turns his unsettling gaze back to the other companions. The Chaos Lord’s overconfidence has been severely punished, but he will not make the same mistake twice.


The world exploded in a brief flash of pain as the sword slammed into the horned daemon’s skull. Echo’s rang in Sepher’s ears as bone and hide chips flew from the wound which he had sustained. Only years upon years of keeping the souls of daemons in check allowed him to keep control of his own mind as his concentration was briefly faltered by the blow.


A small string of black blood strung out from the wound as Sepher’s body careened backwards with the force of the blow, rock and soil giving way as the heavy body crashed into the earth, his hammer remaining in his grip. The daemons eyes remained closed as it lay motionless on the field of battle for just a moment as he rested there on the scorched land. The daemons chest rose and fell slowly at first but soon became more rapid. A loud snarling can be heard and suddenly there is a loud roar that rings out across the landscape, black-flecked spittle leaking from the angry daemon’s mouth as it moves to stand.


Green chaos tendrils burst forth from the ground under Sepher, and there is another unearthly roar as pain lances up his body. He brings forth the mighty hammer down upon the earth, as he does so its shape takes that of a spear. He slams it into the ground, removing his hands from it, to free them. The daemon braces its feet in the roaring inferno under them and holds its hands out in front of him. With a supreme effort of will, Sepher growls, attempting to bend the raw chaos at work here to his will.


Even his muscles cord and veins bulge in his neck as he puts forth all his effort into taking this green flame into a ball in front of him. If this succeeds, he will slam his hands together, forcing a giant bolt of pure chaos energy directly at its source of origin, Abaddon. It would burn with the intensity an angry sun as Sepher moved to pick his spear up once more, the energy safetely away from him.

OOC

Offline Danyael

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #21 on: August 16, 2010, 01:58:34 PM »
The invisible world of energy came all the more clear to Danyael’s eyes. And what he saw now gave him no feelings of comfort. He watched the black energies of the Despoiler blast to the sky as the sparkling energies of his companions swirled around him, each of which providing their own volley of attacks and counters. And then the sickening pale verdigris of Abbadon’s powers made light of the coming foreboding. It didn’t matter what Danyael did at this moment, as he knew he couldn’t escape what was to come. But he knew what he could do after it passed.

He looked to Karl, the elemental both he and Jharm had protected a moment ago. Simultaneously, his sight reached out to Karl and Kith. His will blurred over the landscape as his link with the world itself allowed him the luxury of total omnipresence. Dipping into the wellspring to partake of a taste of the Source, he bid cooperation from the planet beneath their feet to aid once again in their time of need. The cocoon that once surrounded Karl doubled in reinforcement around, if not beneath, him. It was an action made in haste. And if it couldn’t entirely protect him, it could keep him safe long enough to prepare either an escape or another onslaught.

As Kitharsis implores a clever tactic of his own, Danyael’s geokinetic omnipresence reached out to his old friend as the grounds beneath the Tirthandaran took on a scaly surface, reaching deep beneath the roots where the scales would absorb the impact of the flames, each defense dissolving one out of the many scales away, giving his friend enough space to not focus on defense as much as initially needed. The only issue was that this would only serve to add to the coming pain to the Nephilim. So be it, then. He watched the dark viridian comet of Abbadon’s energies streak downward on an impact course with the ground. This was going to hurt. A lot. And then came the pain.

The sensation came quickly, the polar opposite of total ecstasy. It overtook him, smothered him, coated him in an anguish none could ever compare. A quivering gasp preceded a sudden scream of absolute, unmitigated torment as he howled a scream so frightening it could make any seasoned warrior’s blood run cold. He felt his skin curl inward as his knees were forced to buckle, nailing him to the ground. His screams gained in such volumes that his vocal chords almost snapped, and yet he kept screaming, howling, shrieking into the emptiness as if he, and not the world, were on fire. And that, sadly, was just the prelude. The flames curled around him, wrapping him in absolute anguish, twisting torture made physical to coil around him, penetrating him to the core.

He felt his life reach its medium as the physical world began to drizzle away, the emptiness around him beginning to take hold. He felt the warm and cold reach of the other side teetering, the hands of the hereafter reaching for him at all angles. And yet the pain kept him away. The pain kept him centered. The pain kept him... alive. No... the world was keeping him alive. The world refused to let him go. The world refused to let him die. And before he could pull himself free of the threshold, the sudden twinkle of divine light breached the darkness as Jharm’s holy beam punched through the flames. Danyael, through his link with the world, snared the light as it rushed through the flames, allowing the prismatic luminance of the divine anoint the grounds. He forced it deeper until the world devoured it whole; and with it, feeding Danyael.

Danyael’s senses glanced to view his echo, black cloaked warrior identical to himself in almost every way. The echo found itself standing in the very spot where the Nocturne Kenshi had burned an ashen circle into the ground. And it was here where the echo would do what was now necessary. Both swords in hand, he lifted the Fan Blade to the sky, while he held the Culling Blade off to his flank. In a single motion, he cleaved inward, completely slicing himself in half at the median separating the lower and upper torso, letting his blood spill across the engraving as the remains of its corpse dissolve away. The Fan Blade, with no wielder, fell to the center where a whirlwind of crimson vitae screeched across the battlements to engulf the nephilim lord.

With the ritual complete, he began the next stage as the bloody tornado swirled to a halt, splattering the grounds around him with blood. He lifted his hands to the sky, and the sudden change of alteration could be felt among the clouds. The change was slow at first, only to snap to life in an instant. He yanked his hands down and all gravity around Abbadon found itself displaced with a force so strong around the Despoiler that it was a vacuum of pure geokinetic force, aiming no where but straight down.

Imbued with the very fury of the planet itself, a great maw opened beneath Danyael, vomiting an enormous,  ichorous ooze in an erupting pillar. The vitae burst into a spreading flock of multiple tendrils of their own, many of which doubly as large as the tongues of green flame. They catapulted toward Abbadon with immense speed, the sudden likenesses of Danyael materializing at the tip of each, shrieking with pure insanity as they careened and twisted around each other, some even smashing into and merging with one another only to sprout just as many copies as before, the screams growing louder and louder so much so that their voices were doubly as intense as Danyael’s previous assault of sound made deadly.

The Nephilim Lord spread through the living nightmare, a new set of weapons readily brandished in both hands; a long, triple bladed staff formed in the likeness of a “Y” and a long, curved, menacing sword forged in the likeness of a bladed feather. While the sword pulsed with an aura of outward violence, the staff gave off an aura of inward emptiness. An essence of eerie hollowness surrounded the staff, standing as the more menacing of the two. It was best Abbadon stay as far away from Danyael as possible now. For if the nephilim lord came within striking distance, his weapons, imbued with the most forbidden essences of his nation, would feed off of the Despoiler; both flesh and soul alike. With a silent command, the tendrils doubled in number before railing toward Abbadon in an explosion of speed while their semi-divine master also vanished in a blurr of hypnotic alacrity, unleashing an unending volley of bladed attacks from every direction around the Despoiler. The consistent, ever growing shrieks around only serving to empower their master while dealing additional adverse affliction to Abbadon's armor, both physical and mental.

His face, like the those of the hundreds of tendrils sprouting through the sky, was frozen in an eternal scream, so defined that his features no longer held the beauty of the nephilim, but the sheer horror of the warp itself. His eyes, now two different shades clashing against one another, mirrored the very chaos of the warp, his prison for so long he no longer counted the days or the weeks or the years, but millenniums in a place with no doors and many doors, no future and many futures, no life and something beyond such. The voices of thousands of presences screamed from the reflection in his eyes alone. And so was it now true that it was more than just the Nephilim that Abbadon was fighting.
« Last Edit: August 20, 2010, 11:44:08 AM by Danyael »
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Offline Veldanya Venalla

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #22 on: August 31, 2010, 01:21:05 PM »
Jharm allows a slight grin as the tendrils harmlessly bounce off his shield.  He doesn't allow himself any time to celebrate for he knows that every second that Abaddon is not under attack is another second he has to unleash more of his twisted power.  With this in mind he closes his eyes and begins to utter a chant to the Light.  As the chant continues, his entire body begins to glow white as he gathers the power granted him by the Light, extending it down his right hand so that the head of his massive hammer also glows a bright white and a sphere of bright white light forms around his left hand.  Suddenly he ends the chant and soars down towards Abaddon.

As he gets close to Abaddon he lands on the ground and continues the charge on foot, raising his left hand and releasing a massive flash of light, focusing on Abaddon's eyes with the intention of burning his eyes and at the least blinding him temporarily.  The moment he reaches melee range he brings his massive hammer down towards Abaddon, aiming for his limbs and proceeds to unleash a string of attacks, the hammer emitting a humming sound as he focuses more Light into the head, the purity of the Light causing further damage wherever it makes contact with Abaddon's twisted visage.  The Seraphim is intent on crippling the vile monster before he can unleash more terror and pain on his companions.
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Offline Cameron

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #23 on: September 08, 2010, 04:20:21 PM »
The urgency of the thought is not lost to Soul Reaver, and the musclesin his legs tense before he launches himself into a mighty leap, highinto the air.

At the same time, the many daemonic constructsthat had been spinning around behind him rush to the space now belowhim, clicking together as they form a huge disc of seething, screechingmetal blades.  Once the flames burst from the ground, the constructsare prepared to suicidally fire themselves straight at them,suffocating and crushing the tendrils before they can escape.

SoulReaver meanwhile somersaults through the air, holding his legs tightlyup to his chest.  At the apex of his leap, he spreads his limbs againin preparation for his landing.  Already, words of dark magic flow fromhis lips, his eyes locked on Abaddon below.  He extends his free handtoward the Chaos lord, and casts a powerful Flesh Blister spell on him.

Thespell will bubble and scorch his flesh, causing it to slaugh off inburned lumps... and more importantly, will inflict indescribable,incapacitating agony as it does so.

Blooddrinker in-hand, Soul Reaver begins to fall toward Abaddon...

Soul Reaver’s whirling metal constructs are more than powerful enough to smother and kill the tendrils of flame that leap after him, although they are all destroyed in the process.

Abbadon expects a counter attack from Soul Reaver, and his heightened senses pick up the whispers of dark magic on the wind. As Soul Reaver locks his gaze on the Despoiler, he can see Abbadon whispering himself, speaking a long lost language. The words of arcane power practically fall from his lips, twisting and corrupting reality to the Despoiler’s will. As Soul Reaver’s spell is cast, Abbadon counters with his own. Sinister runes form in the air around the Chaos Lord, and Soul Reaver finds his spell reflected back at him. If he does not move quickly to dispel it, he will suffer a corrupted version of the fate he had intended for his foe.
« Last Edit: September 08, 2010, 04:22:17 PM by Cameron Aileron »

Offline Cameron

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #24 on: September 08, 2010, 05:00:49 PM »
"Right back at you!"  Kitharsis shouts as a multitude of his crimson tendrils launch themselves at Abbadon.  There is a mass of them, and they've spread out to cover a large area.  It will be difficult for Abbadon to not be caught by at least a few of them.

Kitharsis’s tendrils meet Abbadon’s tendrils, and the tendrils of green fire are smothered and destroyed by the crimson energy. However, the tendrils are not nearly as effective on Abbadon himself. A stroke of bad timing quickly reverses Kitharsis’s fortune.

Abbadon is not aware of Kitharsis’s impending attack, nor is he ready for it. Unfortunately, the massively powerful counter-magic responsible for deflecting Soul Reaver’s attack seconds earlier is still very much active, and as the crimson tendrils collide with the runic barrier, they are instantly halted and corrupted by the dark sorcery woven through the very fabric of reality surrounding the Despoiler. The corruption races back up the tendrils towards Kitharsis. Should the corruption make it to the warrior, it will attempt to enter him, twisting and corrupting the energy within him and attempting to turn it against him.

Offline Cameron

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #25 on: September 08, 2010, 05:10:30 PM »
The space that was once occupied by Faidth is now vacant, and the Fyrellian finds herself suspended in mid-air, once again, teleported without her knowledge. These constant fluctuations in her position are exceedingly rapid and each time it occurs,  she feels as if she is being yanked through time and space. This sensation nauseates her and sends her reeling. She continues to reappear and disappear at different places in the battlefield, likely making it very difficult for these sentient flames to seek out their target.
Faidth’s teleportation leaves the tendrils that were directed at her confused and aimless. They eventually seek her out again, only to have her disappear again. After a few minutes of this, the tendrils do not have the energy to maintain their shape, and they collapse into green flame that falls from the sky and extinguishes itself on the dusty ground below. Faidth finds herself out of harm’s way for the moment, with the Despoiler’s attention firmly fixed elsewhere.

Offline Cameron

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #26 on: September 08, 2010, 05:41:48 PM »
Even his muscles cord and veins bulge in his neck as he puts forth all his effort into taking this green flame into a ball in front of him. If this succeeds, he will slam his hands together, forcing a giant bolt of pure chaos energy directly at its source of origin, Abaddon. It would burn with the intensity an angry sun as Sepher moved to pick his spear up once more, the energy safetely away from him.
Sepher’s attempt at trying to wrest control of the green tendrils meets with success, as Abbadon is not focusing his attention on maintaining the attack. The large demon is easily able to form the fire into a ball, and he hurls it in a bolt back in the direction of its creator.

Abbadon is still focused on his anti-magic barrier. He hears the crimson tendrils of Kitharsis slam into the barrier behind him and is about to look in that direction when he detects a large amount of Chaos magic coming back towards him. With the anti-magic barrier fading, Abbadon turns and witnesses the huge green bolt of chaos energy swiftly closing on him. A horrible rictus forms on his lips and a low, dark laugh can be heard ringing across the battlefield.

The last of the barrier crumbles away just as the bolt of chaos energy reaches Abbadon. He simply holds up his gauntleted fist, and the chaos power is absorbed back into it harmlessly. The Talon of Horus crackles with newly regained energy, and the Despoiler pulls some of it into his other hand. With this hand engulfed in green flame, he opens his palm and extends his arm towards Sepher. Grinning wildly, he crushes his hand into a fist, and the fire snuffs out.

Sepher suddenly finds himself within the grasp of a giant flaming hand. When Abbadon closes his fist, the massive fist closes on Sepher, engulfing him in magical fire that burns with the intensity of an angry sun. Abbadon now has his attention focused on the attack, so this will be much harder to control.

Offline Soul Reaver

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #27 on: September 08, 2010, 05:59:23 PM »
Soul Reaver, still in mid-leap, curses in fury as he senses his spell being reversed by Abaddon's dark runes.  Although he begins to cast a Dispel Magic spell, he quickly realizes there isn't enough time - the tightly-woven strands of sorcery are too complex to be disassembled.  Like a sudden burst of hot, feotid wind, the spell strikes home.

A burning pain shoots all over Soul Reaver's skin, from head to toe, and he grits his teeth to suppress a cry of agony.  A patch of flesh on his upper arm blackens and bubbles, and acrid smoke begins to rise from it.  But there is no time for him to respond to this now - he is falling straight towards Abaddon!

In his current state, Soul Reaver is at a disadvantage, and he decides he needs to make a temporary retreat.  As he approaches the Despoiler, Soul Reaver somersaults in the air, bringing Blooddrinker down on the ground in front of Abaddon in a massive, two-handed overhead strike.

The earth beneath everyone's feet shudders as the shockwave from the impact ruptures the ground, pushing a sheet of solid rock diagonally upwards between Soul Reaver and Abaddon - unless the despoiler steps back, it will likely smash him backwards as it impacts on his face.

In a single quick movement, Soul Reaver braces his legs against the newly created sheet of rock and launches himself away from Abaddon, somersaulting once more through the air and skidding to a halt behind a large pile of rubble.

Soul Reaver still feels the searing pain enveloping him as a piece of his skin blackens, crumbles, and falls off, but he knows he has little time before Abaddon resumes his attack.  With an intense act of will, Soul Reaver clears his mind, concentrates on his magic, and carefully begins the process of unweaving the Flesh Blister spell affecting his body...
« Last Edit: September 08, 2010, 06:01:38 PM by Soul Reaver »

Offline Cameron

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #28 on: September 08, 2010, 06:16:38 PM »
The earth beneath everyone's feet shudders as the shockwave from the impact ruptures the ground, pushing a sheet of solid rock diagonally upwards between Soul Reaver and Abaddon - unless the despoiler steps back, it will likely smash him backwards as it impacts on his face.

Abbadon finishes his attack on Sepher just as Soul Reaver lands in front of him. Seeing the huge sheet of rock pushing up out of the ground and threatening to impale him, the Despoiler unsheathes Drach'nyen and pumps chaos energy from the modified Talon of Horus into the blade.

With a one-handed slash quicker then any mortal eye can detect, Abbadon cleaves through the solid rock face, allowing it to fall into two pieces on either side of him. He then lashes out with the Talon of Horus and the chunks of rock are obliterated, leaving only a mound of fine dust at Abbadon's feet. He looks to retaliate against Soul Reaver, but the immortal warrior has already leapt out of range.
« Last Edit: September 08, 2010, 11:49:44 PM by Cameron Aileron »

Offline Cameron

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #29 on: September 08, 2010, 11:50:39 PM »
The Nephilim Lord spread through the living nightmare, a new set of weapons readily brandished in both hands; a long, triple bladed staff formed in the likeness of a “Y” and a long, curved, menacing sword forged in the likeness of a bladed feather. While the sword pulsed with an aura of outward violence, the staff gave off an aura of inward emptiness. An essence of eerie hollowness surrounded the staff, standing as the more menacing of the two. It was best Abbadon stay as far away from Danyael as possible now. For if the nephilim lord came within striking distance, his weapons, imbued with the most forbidden essences of his nation, would feed off of the Despoiler; both flesh and soul alike. With a silent command, the tendrils doubled in number before railing toward Abbadon in an explosion of speed while their semi-divine master also vanished in a blurr of hypnotic alacrity, unleashing an unending volley of bladed attacks from every direction around the Despoiler. The consistent, ever growing shrieks around only serving to empower their master while dealing additional adverse affliction to Abbadon's armor, both physical and mental.

As Abbadon prepares to leap after Soul Reaver, his attention is suddenly caught by a huge force heading directly towards him. Upon seeing the figure of Danyael and the wave of tendrils approaching him and attempting to overwhelm him, his first reaction is a strange one to him… fear. The Despoiler has not felt fear in ages, and he knows that this cannot be natural. He quickly shakes it off and recovers his composure. Moving swiftly, the Chaos Lord draws a circle around himself in the dust with the tip of Drach’nyen. As he completes the circle, the ground beneath him buckles and cracks from the force of something pushing up from the ground underneath him.

The Despoiler rises from the dust, and just as the nephilim’s attack falls on him, a wall of corpses explodes from the ground and surrounds him. Souls imprisoned in Abbadon’s soul aura for millennia inhabit these corpses, and soon the Despoiler is surrounded by an impenetrable dome of living, wailing flesh. Danyael’s attacks cut into the living corpses. Blood gushes in all directions and the screams of the tortured souls being brought back to life only to die again ring across the battlefield, hurting the very heart and soul of any living being who hears them.

And as the nephilim’s attack washes over this corpse mound like a wave, Abbadon appears in the sky well behind him, held aloft by transparent glowing daemon wings that he has crafted out of chaos energy. He watches the living dead die their second death, feeding off the pain and suffering and re-absorbing the bound souls as they come back to him. He waits for the next of his opponents to be foolish enough to strike out at him, the words of dark magic already forming on his lips.

Offline Faidth

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #30 on: September 12, 2010, 10:18:39 AM »
   The plaintive, agonized cries of the living dead resound through Faidth’s ears and nearly bring her to her knees in empathy for the terribly afflicted creatures before her. However, her sorrow for the twisted husks quickly transforms into anger towards the grotesque puppeteer, who would dare to inflict such travesty upon others. She watches as they are all obliterated by the Nephilim’s attack.

   It seems that Abbadon has his hands quite full and has forgotten about Faidth for the time being. She uses this as an opportunity to draw his attention away from the other companions. She takes stock of the numerous marble pillars and cracked marble stairs that litter the field of battle. She feels the components of this metamorphic rock and finds that there are underlying veins of iron oxide. She quickly extracts the chemical compounds and sends the cloud of rust towards the Despoiler.

   The accelerated rust particles latch onto his armor, penetrating the cracks and crevices, and wearing away at the electrical components. A cloud of particles hang around his head like a reddish-brown halo and pervade his nostrils and seek to irritate his eyes, or inhibit his breathing.

   If nothing else, the damage to his armor should severely impede his mobility, perhaps even interfering with the defenses provided by his suit. In addition, the collective cloud around his face should irritate his eyes and make it very difficult for him to breathe, disorienting him and making it more difficult for the chaos lord to exact his revenge upon the companions.

Offline Danyael

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #31 on: September 16, 2010, 12:42:51 PM »



Perhaps the warmaster didn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation he’d now dug himself into. The very bubble of gravity Danyael had formed around the Despoiler remained, likely from Abbadon being so occupied with the offense from the companions. The streams of energy screeched through the sky as Danyael’s eyes traced Abbadon’s movement exactly. So long as the warmaster used energy, he would never be out of the Nephilim Lord’s reach. The assault stopped promptly, his weapons glowing an unnerving swirl of differing hues just as a mad smile gleaned through his lips as it cracked his skin, broadening the grin from ear to ear and he disappeared within the living nightmare, its screams around him having acted as a defense of their own, muting out the screams of Abbadon’s corpse wall to nothing more than a quiver of ignorable silence.

A sudden surge of energy caught a portion of Danyael’s focus - a reversal of energies against one of his own. Though he didn’t speak with words, Danyael’s mind reached directly out to Kitharsis, the a telepathic tapestry of images rushed through in a plethora of patterns, all giving Kitharsis the same message: Get off the ground!

A tone rippled through the sky as a shadow suddenly loomed over the battlefield, preceded by vivacious thumping, its bass even muting out the screaming of Danyael’s living nightmare. And suddenly the real reason Danyael spent so much time in the sky from the start of the battle came to sight. A globular, throbbing mass hovered high above Abbadon, pumping sluggishly with the drab rhythm of a heartbeat. With each thump, the mass grew larger, until it blotted out the radial view of the sky around them. Sappy ooze bubbled and vomited through its veins, dribbling sloppily back to the surface as the rain of vitae sloshed and splattered across the battlements. The death wails of the thousands of presences living within Danyael screamed into the living world, combining with the unending shrieks of the living nightmare thriving below, now creating a physical reaction. As the spherical mass throbbed to greater sizes, the living nightmare arced upward toward the bulbous structure and thus too began to grow. And grow. And grow. And grow until it plugged itself into the dead sphere suspended in the heights of the sky.

It was true, this creature of a man is by far one of the most dangerous adversaries the Nephilim Lord had ever faced. But the warmaster made one small mistake, if even for a fleeting moment. He showed fear. It didn’t escape Danyael’s notice. And how could it when at the time Abbadon showed fear was while he was standing on the ground. The ground of the very world Danyael, like all other worlds, was connected to. Even more so that the Nephilim Lord’s bond with the planet had heightened exponentially thanks to Abbadon’s recent attack that brought it all about in the first place.

Perhaps it was time to exploit that psychological loophole. Faces began to appear across the hovering mass, struggling to maintain a presence in the land of the living. One stir of voices crooned sloppily, gurgling in a fluster of echoes. They moaned a second time, their accent gaining a stronger foothold on the laws of the physical realm as it’s visage coated the dead sphere. The thousands of faces took on the same countenance to a face Abbadon could never forget as the faces of the many betrayed by the Horus Heresy howled into existence, accompanied by twisted faces of Ignance Karkasy and Garviel Loken, notable remembrancer and space marine respectively, grimaced in unending suffering. But none stuck out so much as a face that dominated the others as a massive polyp of a shape revealed to be the face of Warmaster Horus himself. No words were necessary to voice the open rage of betrayal as empty, lidless eyes bore into the Despoiler harder than any blade or bullet could inflict.

Within the sprawl of chaos made physical, Danyael’s eyes watched Abbadon. One might have questioned how he knew these men’s faces, having not met them during the time’s of their death. The better question would be, how could he not, having spent so much time in the warp, so close to the Eye of Terror. Having been a temporary resident of Aileron’s Universe during the elemental’s campaign, he was subject to a great many things while trapped within the warp, one such being the pasts of the Eye of Terror. Visions connected to visions, connected to more visions. One in particular being that of a man known only as the Emperor and the predators of a great force known only as Chaos. During his time of imprisonment, he couldn’t make sense of what he’d seen. But when he saw the one known as Abbadon, all of it made sense. All of the faces. All of the voices. All of the visions. And what better way than to share his experiences of imprisonment than a fellow traveler of the warp?

The face of Horus rippled and grimaced, trying to maintain its form in the physical world. It spit curses of betrayal at Abbadon, his voice accompanied by another stir of despoiled echoes; their voices, combined with the increasing screams of the living nightmare, taking on such intensity that they came to physical blows against Abbadon, sending wave upon wave upon wave one after another with the force of a meteor storm. All the while, the dead sphere spread in size over and over again.
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Offline Kitharsis

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #32 on: September 16, 2010, 01:55:01 PM »
Kitharsis gives a mental nod to Danyael as he reinforces the ground beneath him, relieving him some of the concentration needed to thwart the green tendrils beneath him.  It was thanks to the Nephilim's act that he was able to focus more directly on Abbadon. 

His crimson tendrils clash with Abbadon's counter-magic barrier and instantly halt.  This stops Kitharsis in his tracks as the tendrils bend and contort as the dark sorcery of the barrier infects them.  Danyael's message comes into his mind as he instantly closes off his tattoos, cutting off all of the tendrils trailing out from his arms.  If the dark energy reaches his body it would spell disaster, mixing with his own sinister energy.  Regardless of Danyael's warning, the ground is a better alternative than allowing himself to be tainted.  The Tirthandara falls to the dirt as Abbadon's dark power fully infects the tendrils that came in contact with the barrier.

The tendrils flail wildly in the air around Kitharsis.  He quickly throws up a shield from the triangle on the back of his right hand but does not have time to solidify it.  The shield is shattered by a corrupted tendril moments later, the force of the blow sending him directly into the path of another. 

Pain shoots through his body.  He can feel the twisted power trying to influence the energy inside of him.  The dark, unpurified Tirthandaran energy bubbles beneath his skin, relishing at the though of mixing with this dark sorcery.  Thankfully his skin is resilient enough to not let the dark energy in or out, and he falls to the ground before the sporadic movements of the corrupted tendril can twist and wrap around him.

He hits the ground on his feet in a crouch, but quickly doubles over onto all fours.  There is a dark burn still smoking across his back from slamming against his corrupted tendril.  The ground rumbles beneath him as Soul Reaver's shockwave erupts with a sheet of rock aimed at Abbadon.  With clenched teeth he scurries away as The Despoiler cuts the wall to pieces.

And then the screams come.  The sight of reanimated corpses being torn asunder and their souls being sucked back into Abbadon was nearly too much to bear.

He shakes his head, vainly trying to get the sound out of his ears.  Kitharsis knew the Nephilim didn't intend what had happened.  The attacks of The Despoiler were more than physical, and Kitharsis didn't know which was worse...

The diamond tattoo on back of his right hand springs to life an a long glowing blade slides out of it.  He unsheaths his warhammer and holds it in his left hand.  The long spike is pointing away from him, ready to pierce into Abbadon's flesh.

The life-like skull tattoo on his left forearm starts pulsating with energy.  Red arcs of light twist over the surface of it as he raises his arm into the air.  A flash of light engulfs the area around him.  As it fades the air around him is dry and hot, with specks of sand being whipped around by the wind as they fall to the ground.  Two red, glowing skeletons hover in the air next to Kitharsis.  They are about 5 feet tall with curved horns jutting from their head and fingertips and toetips ending in long, sharp points.  Their hands and toes are alight with red flames that lick at the air around them.

Kitharsis and his new blazing skeletal companions charge forward towards Abbadon, but their trek is cut short as Danyael's attack comes to fruition.  The huge mass in the sky was unsettling, and their screams were sending down waves of blows upon Abbadon.  Thinking better of charging into such a maelstrom, Kitharsis paces around the outskirts of the storm.  Patiently waiting for an opening to strike with his skeletons.
« Last Edit: September 16, 2010, 05:09:05 PM by Kitharsis »

Offline Soul Reaver

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #33 on: October 12, 2010, 05:07:09 PM »
The enchantments of the Flesh Blister spell unravel beneath Soul Reaver's concentrated assault - it seems his companions have bought him sufficient time to complete the Dispel.  As the last threads of dark magic drift away into the ether, the burning pain ebbs from his mind and Soul Reaver feels his flesh knitting itself together again.

Yet as he is about to stand, screams of anguish and agony rend the air.  He winces at the pained chorus as Danyael slices into the barrier of flesh that Abaddon has erected... and yet, strangely, part of him relishes the sound.  As the screams reach a crescendo, the desire to hear more of them only seems to grow.

Looking up at Abaddon, Soul Reaver sees streams of souls rising from the tortured, maimed corpses and being absorbed.  His lips twist into a smirk.  This was going to be a petty gesture, but Soul Reaver was feeling vengeful.

As Danyael summons the face of Horus to taunt Abaddon and Kitharsis prepares his burning skeletal minions to attack, Soul Reaver formulates an assault of his own.  His arm draws back Blooddrinker, muscles flexing as he prepares to throw the blade.  With a shout, he sends the sword spinning from his fingers, the crimson blade appearing as a flattened red disc as it whips through the air.

But the weapon is not aimed at Abaddon.  Instead, it aims at the large mass of flesh still piled below him.  The blade curves through midair, unerringly slicing through the remaining bodies, drawing forth more of their horrendous screams.  Soul Reaver does not seem to care about the effect this will have on those around him - instead, he is concentrating on one thing only...

Steal from the thief, then use the spoils to make him pay!

His gauntleted left hand is extended as Soul Reaver uses the power that is his namesake.  His eyes blaze red as the remaining souls, freed from the fleshy confines but not yet drawn back into Abaddon, are suddenly, violently pulled toward Soul Reaver.

His eyes unwavering from the targets that remain unseen to his companions, Blooddrinker curves back towards Soul Reaver like a boomerang, ending its arc with a loud 'clang' in Soul Reaver's raised right hand.

Offline Faidth

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #34 on: October 12, 2010, 05:29:08 PM »
   Jharm, the benevolent Seraphim, attempts to debilitate Abbadon by temporarily blinding the Chaos Lord, using nothing but the sheer force of the angelic being’s command of Light. Abbadon, his attention being elsewhere, is momentarily disoriented as he is forced to bring his arm over his eyes to block the Light.

   In the meantime, Jharm delivers a flurry of blows directed towards the creature’s extremities. Abbadon struggles to regain his might as Jharm’s hammer catches him in the shoulder. The hammer hums as the angel forcefully continues to pummel the Chaos Lord.

   Abbadon, his patience wearing thin, strikes forward with the Talon of Horus. His strength is heavily augmented by his boundless rage, Abbadon easily finds his mark and the warhammer is unceremoniously knocked out of Jharm’s hands and clatters to the ground.
   


   Faidth blindsides Abbadon with a well-placed Atom Transfiguration. The rust particles explode forward and latch onto the Chaos Lord’s armor. The accelerated particles invade the joints of his armor, making it a bit more difficult for him to move. A cloud of rust gathers around his head where it is inhaled by an infuriated Abbadon.

   He coughs heavily as the particles enter his lungs, slither up his nostrils, and burn his eyes, but this setback only fuels his rage and he plunges the Talon of Horus into the ground, sending a shock of chaos energy through the earth and towards Faidth. If she does not move, or find some way to block the attack, she will be thrown off her feet and heavily injured by a powerful shock of chaos energy.
   


   Danyael, hoping to affect the Chaos Lord with vestiges of his heresy, even the very face of Horus himself, are met with contempt by the Chaos Lord. Abbadon’s cracked lips part in a horrific smile, and a strange sound begins to emanate from somewhere within the recesses of his corrupted soul.

   The Chaos Lord is overcome with laughter, and had he still the ability to cry, he would have wiped tears of amusement from the corners of his eyes.

   “You fool! You dare to threaten the Avatar of Fear and Agony itself with these paltry offerings to a weakness that I no longer possess!” Abbadon lets out a roar of indignation and holds the Talon high above his head. The lightning claw crackles with inordinate amounts of chaos energy that are sent upwards, towards the bulging, grotesque mass that Danyael concocted to taunt the Chaos Lord.

   The chaos energy strikes the orb, eviscerating it from the bottom to the top, and leaving it little more than a putrid, slime-ridden husk. Abbadon’s eyes become slits as he levels his gaze upon Danyael. He begins to mutter a spell under his breath, and the ground beneath him begins to shake with tumultuous reverberations. Shards of bone, haphazardly strewn across the field of battle, begin to collect at Abbadon’s feet. The last word of the spell erupts in a bloodcurdling cry that causes the bone shards to rise into the air, where they begin to forcefully hurtle towards the nephilim. 

   Kitharsis, flanked by his skeletal minions, is presented with an opening that is impossible to ignore. Should he choose to strike now, he will certainly have at least a fleeting advantage over Abbadon.

   Soul Reaver uses his Soul Control ability to harness the souls that Abbadon had imprisoned in the writhing, tortured piles of flesh below him. These are the souls of the victims of Abbadon, hapless, vacant refuse left over from once vibrant, animated creatures of all walks of life. As Soul Reaver absorbs these piteous abominations, corrupted from a millennia of agony at the hands of their tormenter, the insanity that had been building within Soul Reaver roars to an astounding crescendo. Such corruption will surely draw the attention of the demon-blade that Soul Reaver wields.

   Abbadon makes no move to intercede to preserve the souls that he had temporarily relinquished back to the earth. A smug twitch of a smile affects the corners of his lips as he feels them being drawn from existence and into the virtuous warrior.

Offline Soul Reaver

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #35 on: October 12, 2010, 06:04:37 PM »
Soul Reaver is unmoved as the pitiful souls are drawn into him - his millenia of experience protect him well enough from the suffering within these souls.

But it is nonetheless this suffering that he is after.  The moment the last of the souls disappear into Soul Reaver's hand, his face forms an expression of intense concentration.

He reaches DEEP into the newly aquired souls.  These ragged, pathetic things have suffered for centuries immemorial.  Oh, how they must hate, hate, HATE the one who did this to them.  How they must wish for vengeance.  How they must BEG for a chance to have him share their pain, even for a moment.  And now, at last, that one chance...

Soul Reaver's left fist closes over Blooddrinker's blade, and the tortured souls within Soul Reaver pulse with new life, the pyres of rage burning and roaring.  Their suffering, and hate, and despair flow through Soul Reaver's arms, channeled by his concentration, focused and bound by his sorcery.  A writhing mass of sinister black energy suffuses Blooddrinker's blade.  Tentacles of energy flail around the weapon, which gives a deep sigh of approval.  This would be glorious, yes, glorious indeed!

Soul Reaver's gaze snaps upwards, toward Abaddon.  Kitharsis was moving in to attack, and Abbadon was distracted with Danyael.  This mistake would cost him very dearly.

Red lightning crackles from Soul Reaver's body as he hurtles forward.  His steel-shod boots crack the ground as he runs, his whole body a blur.  Both fists close over Blooddrinker's hilt in an iron grip, and he draws the sword back to his side for a massive swing.  Kitharsis was closer to Abaddon than he was, and this was ideal - he would attack from Abaddon's flank and time his strike to coincide Kitharsis' own.
« Last Edit: October 12, 2010, 06:15:24 PM by Soul Reaver »

Offline Kitharsis

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #36 on: October 12, 2010, 09:54:41 PM »
Abbadon is distracted.  The attacks of his companions draw his attention and leave an opening for Kitharsis to strike.  Without a word he charges forward, the blade on his right arm glowing fiercly and his warhammer charging Tirthandaran energy of its own.  His skeletons were flying ahead of him, their appendages trailing with blazing red flames.

The skeletons reach The Despoiler and their entire bodies burst into intense flames.  The pair circle Abbadon, surrounding him in a cyclone of flames.  They latch onto him as Kitharsis crashes through the flames, his blade held above his head.  With the skeletons hopefully hindering Abbadon's movements, Kitharsis lets loose a vicious cry and brings the blade down.  He aims for Abbadon's arm holding the Talons, intending to remove it from his body.  He follows up with a heavy blow with his warhammer.  It is fully charged with Tirthandaran energy and upon impact it will explode with great force and knock Abbadon into the air, if not destroying part of his already weakened armor in the process.

Offline Faidth

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #37 on: October 12, 2010, 10:25:19 PM »
   Abbadon finds himself stuck between a Tirthandaran rock and a Soul-infused hard place. Abbadon, his attention split in many directions at the same time, is not fully prepared for Kith’s attack, and even less prepared for the strategic flanking carried out by Soul Reaver. Soul Reaver, his body teeming  with the energy of countless vengeful souls, launches himself towards the destructive harbinger of Chaos.

   Soul Reaver’s massive swing connects with Abbadon’s chest, and the enormous pulse of energy released by the long overdue catharsis of these souls, is enough to unbalance the Chaos Lord, and send him careening in the opposite direction.

   However, Abbadon makes it only a few feet when he is assailed from the opposite direction mere moments later. The skeletal minions commanded by Kitharsis surround him in a cyclone of flames, causing him to become more disoriented as he struggles to regain his balance. The creatures latch onto the Chaos Lord as the Tirthandaran hurtles through the flames, his blade trained upon this horrific creature of darkness.

   Unfortunately, the blow from Kitharsis’s blade is rendered obsolete as Abbadon seizes the blade and holds it firmly in the vice-like grip of the Talon of Horus. His eyes wild with a mixture of rage and desperation, Abbadon reaches into the depths of his blackened soul to surmise some way to put a final stop to this insanity. As Kith’s warhammer slams into his body and launches him into the air, Abbadon is able to contain his composure just long enough to utter another spell.

   The ground beneath Soul Reaver and Kitharsis begins to shake violently and long, undulating tendrils erupt through the surface. The tendrils, their might great and their grip unyielding, wrap about the limbs of the two companions and hoist them high into the air where they are dangled gleefully like a child’s plaything. Six-inch thick shards of bone emerge from the ends of these tendrils and dig into the flesh of Kitharsis and Soul Reaver.

   A smile of satisfaction crosses Abbadon’s lips as he gazes skyward towards his opponents, not just because of their current situation, but because of the knowledge that if they do not somehow escape, the bone shards will begin to channel a powerful, virulent, chemical agent that will slowly kill his adversaries.

Offline Danyael

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #38 on: October 13, 2010, 03:55:00 PM »
Abbadon should have paid closer attention to what briefly surfaced from Danyael’s eyes, then he would have seen that it wasn’t just the greater souls of the long fallen that inhabited the Nephilim Lord, but the very antithesis of celestial order. In his time of exile did Danyael encounter, and master, what Old Earth knew as the Gerasene Demon - best known as “Legion”. By the divine blood in his veins did he claim the entity for himself, molding it to his will to do as he deemed. As the Talon of Horus ignited with chaos energy, the orb of grotesqueries rippled with anticipation, opening itself to the energies as the mouths of the many faces, cackled in a cacophony of mad. The faint grin of satisfaction pierced their insanity before the globe exploded from pole to pole. Alas, Danyael was nowhere to be seen.

The field of gore began to quake and shutter and a snaking funnel slithered into the sky where the remains of the orb began to sew itself together. Choruses of voices came in rivulets of sound, curving around the air, chanting in vague gibberish. They raised an octave, screaming the dark lingo none could translate. And then the chanting stopped and the sphere exploded; having done its deed by incubating the creature meditating within.

The cocoon splattered below, sloshing in thick gore that spread across the radial distance, leaving something eerily phantasmal behind. There Danyael hovered amidst the emptiness, the upper half of his wardrobe burned away to reveal the fleshly tapestry adorning his skin. His face looked, for lack of a better word, empty - hollow. Black, soulless eyes looked up to Abbadon as the Nephilim Lord clenched his fists in preparation for the coming attack. He watched quietly as the missiles of bone streak toward him. A pop of his neck and he vanishes, with a platoon of Nocturne Kenshi hovering in his place, just barely taking the hit for him. Reappearing mere meters from the assault, he prepared to rush the Despoiler head on.

Before he could act, however, he noticed a certain tinge to the flux of energies and his sights focused immediately on two of his comrades. He watched from his haven in the skies as the grounds beneath Kith and Soul were suddenly overcome with another of the Despoiler’s snares. He looked once to the Despoiler, yearning for engaging the coward head on, but looked back to the men, or at least one of them, that he called friends. A deep snarl curled up his throat and he chose an option any would deem foolish. A sudden will of speed brought him directly over his companions where, with claws protracted, he sliced his hand across his chest in a blood sacrifice. As the warm red ick gushed from front and behind, he his hand free, letting the eruption of crimson splatter into the air. Arms and legs formed from the thick red where Nocturne Kenshi in the forms of bloody phantom limbs of their own. peaked once more into the living world. As these were directly connected to him through a physical bond, the risks were far greater. But he didn’t care. If he could save them both, great. If he could save only one, that was better than none.

The blood creatures embraced Kith and Soul, yanking Danyael into the fray as he set himself between the two. And then he let the pain take him. He took a sipping breath through his lips and allowed the flow of Qi to course through his skin, letting it vibrate and envelope him while the limbs of blood attatched themselves to the tendrils, extending, expanding and multiplying, pushing the amount of blood in his body to ridiculously fatal limits. The influx of energies began to spin, whirling around him in a sphere of prismatic light that forcefully shrank with each whirl. And then when he could hold it no longer, he let the build up explode in a shimmering, globular burst, the energies of his own power completely merging with the strength of Abbadon’s spell.

He folded moments in time into simple seconds, taking in the structure of the tendrils to where he could feel himself inside of them. As he felt his essence expand throughout the tendrils, he could physically feel Kith and Soul. The virulent properties of the tendrils proved more overwhelming than prior anticipated, though not all a surprise. He knew he wouldn’t come out in one piece from this one. The next surge of energy came from within once more, this time forcing him to tear both men away, forcing himself in the hopes of taking their place amidst the tendrils instead.

He mentally swore at the situation, but knew that no manner of power would ever be able to place on the value he put in his friends. And if that meant he couldn’t unleash deadly force against Abbadon, then that is a price he will gladly pay. Such as right now.
« Last Edit: October 15, 2010, 10:47:46 AM by Danyael »
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Offline Faidth

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Re: The Eye of Terror: Battle of the Eidolon Wastelands (Part III)
« Reply #39 on: October 13, 2010, 05:26:04 PM »
As Danyael effectively intercedes on behalf of Kitharsis and Soul Reaver, the Tirthandaran and the warrior find themselves discarded, freed from the clutches of the tendrils.

   However, Abbadon is not about to let them escape unscathed, and as the two plummet towards the ground, the Chaos Lord stomps his heavy, Ceramite boot upon the earth. The area beneath the tendrils erupts in a field of long, skeletal stalagmites, waiting to exacerbate the situation and impale Abbadon’s quarry. 

   Danyael, having successfully freed his companions, finds himself in the crushing grip of the tendrils. The long, tentacle-like appendages readjust themselves to acquire a better hold upon Danyael. Several wrap around his legs, and the creations continue to inject their venomous bile into the nephilim through the use of the bone shards. More tendrils hastily seize Danyael’s arms, digging painfully into his wrists. In a coordinated motion, each set of tendrils begin to pull in opposite directions, intent on tearing Danyael apart.