The Eye of Terror: The Labyrinthine Depths of Chaos (Part I)

[Cameron]

Abbadon is nothing more then a pile of stinking flesh. The daemon blade Drach'nyen and the Talon of Horus have vanished. Nothing of value remains.

As Kalana picks herself up off the ground, the pocket of reality that Abbadon created around this field before attacking finally dissipates. The companions can clearly hear heavy combat nearby. Kalana determines the direction.

"That's coming from the entrance to the main labyrinth. They're trying to open the way for us. We need to go and help."

Garr had just exited the forcefield created by Danyael and descended to the ground. He looks around at the companions as Kalana speaks.

"I do not think that the majority of us are in any condition to provide assistance right now, Lady Ryoki. We may need time to patch ourselves up."

Kalana nods in agreement and raises her hands. She expends a large amount of mental energy, and the companions can feel time slowing.

"There. I just bought us about 30 minutes. Rest, meditate, do what you need to do. But then we have to move."

[Soul Reaver]

Soul Reaver's vision is blurry and his mind almost blank after his victory.  The only thing he can feel is the heat that radiates from Blooddrinker's hilt.  He grasps at it, a lifeline back into reality.

The next thing he feels are the numberless bruises, cuts and burns across his body - none throbbing stronger than his broken shoulder.  He winces as he uses Blooddrinker to pull himself back to his feet.  With a small grunt of effort, he pulls the sword free from the grey, stony ground - the sword is still as immaculate as ever, the razor sharp edges of the blade glimmering softly with an inner fire.  Soul Reaver sheathes the sword at his back, then, clutching his wounded shoulder, makes his was over to where the rest of the companions are gathering.

Around him, Soul Reaver suddenly feels a pulse of energy, and the flow of time starts to feel sluggish.  Even in his current state, he marvels at this: though magic in the mortal plane can be used to manipulate the flow of time, something on this scale would require phenomenal quantities of mana and incredible mental fortitude.  Kalana's powers were indeed fearsome.

Soul Reaver overhears her speaking, and was indeed relieved to hear that he would have a chance to recover.  He dragged his wounded body over to large boulder, where he sat down with the loud clanking of his armour.

Thirty minutes was not much, but it should be enough.

Soul Reaver nods over at the rest of the warriors nearby, silently acknowledging their shared victory and his appreciation for their help.  Then, he closes his eyes, and concentrates.

First comes his broken arm.  The shattered shards of bone slowly realign, then fuse together as though they were never broken.  Damaged tissue and blood vessels knit themselves together.  In a few minutes, he feels strength return to his previously flaccid limb, and he flexes his fingers to make sure that everything is indeed back to normal.

Next come the more superficial wounds, which he tends to in a more general fashion, focussing on his regenerative powers.

At the same time, he tends to his own mana reserves, absorbing the magic from the air around him.  His store of sorcerous energy had almost been competely depleted, so he drank of the sluggish ocean of magic like a man dying of thirst.

When he felt at least partially restored, Soul Reaver turns his attention to his equipment.  His armour was in a sorry state - the black steel was visibly rent and torn in many places, and he sensed thousands more hairline cracks and imperfections, all caused by the vicous battle against Abaddon and its explosive aftermath.

Soul Reaver channels his powers, filling and restoring his armour, the hairline cracks vanishing, the rents fading away in a glow of red energy.

When he is done, he opens his eyes once more.  His armour is restored, pristine and untouched, his magical energy returning, and his body healed.  The black cape once more flaps from his back.  Nonetheless, he has not fully recovered - the battle had been costly, and there was too little time left.  There was a feeling of hollowness within that would not soon be filled.

He turns his gaze to Kalana.

"What of this Labyrinth, Kalana?  What awaits within?"

[Cameron]

Kalana makes her way over to Soul Reaver. She has indeed expended quite a bit of energy to give the companions this time, and she slumps down against the rock next to Soul, catching her breath and resting her mind. After a few moments, she speaks.

"Unfortunately... we have virtually no intelligence on the inside of the Labyrinth. Few people who enter make it out again, and those who have emerged have not done so with their minds intact. Most of the information that we have gotten is raving gibberish descriptions of eldrich horrors which may or may not actually exist. The only thing we do know is that you cannot trust your senses once inside. Things are never what they seem to be."

[Veldanya Venalla]

As the angel touches down near the elementals he goes over to the remains of the Despoiler.  Kneeling down he examines the remains as if to verify that Abaddon is dead and it isnt mearly another of his vile tricks.  Sensing that his presence is gone, Jharm breathes a sigh of relief.

"There. I just bought us about 30 minutes. Rest, meditate, do what you need to do. But then we have to move."

Upon hearing Kalana's statement, Jharm gazes over his battered and beaten armor.  His one shoulder guard crumpled from the flying debris while he fled the explosion.  His helmet crushed and probably vaporized now.  Focusing his power into his armor, the shoulder slowly but steadly begins to reform into its original shape.  With that done he calmly sits down, crosses his massive legs and begins to meditate, connecting himself with the Light and regaining his power and strength, waiting for the rest of his companions to be ready to move and aid the space marines.

[Faidth]

Faidth sheds the multiple layers of defenses that had managed to keep her virtually unscathed during Abbadon's last stand. Bits of bone, rock and debris clatter to the ground around her as the protective cocoon disintegrates. She draws the back of her hand across her forehead to rid her complexion of the dark crimson rivulets that slowly seep from a small wound near her hairline. Marius had taught her to ignore pain quite efficiently and the blood that flows is more of an inconvenience than an actual wound.

She places her hand to her forehead and concentrates upon the torn skin and warm blood beneath her fingertips. Though she cannot create new cells to replace the ones that have been destroyed, moving pre-existing ones does not pose a problem for her. She isolates the correct atoms, moving them into position and effectively covering the wound. Where she has transfigured the cells, the skin is thin and susceptible, but the bleeding has stopped.

The rest of her respite from battle is spent within this anomaly of time in a quiet seclusion. She sits cross-legged upon the battlefield, her eyes closed and her mind at ease. She can practically hear Marius's voice in her ears, telling her to slow her breathing so that she may regain her energy. His lingering essence is enough to bring solace to her and soon her body is replenished, though her thoughts of him still bring a poignant sting to her heart.

[Veldanya Venalla]

As the the massive form of Jharm sits on the ground meditating, his mental form attends a meeting elsewhere in the multiverse.

The scene is of a massive room, the walls crafted of fine pure white marble with massive marble columns holding up a ceiling only barely visible.  There are braziers positioned at each column, but within them are orbs of white light instead of normal fires, illuminating the area far better then any mundane flame could.  The most amazing scene though is what is at the far end of the room.  Jharm can be seen standing before a raised dais with 3 pulpits on it.  Standing behind the pulpits are 3 large (even compared to Jharm) figures, wearing pure white robes.  On the front of each pulpit a word is written....truth, honor, and justice (from left to right).

[Truth]: Greetings High Seraphim of the Light.  It has been long since we have spoken.  (The voice reveals Truth to be of female gender)

"I apologize, things have progressed at incredible speed...the one known as Abaddon the Despoiler has been slain."

[Truth]:  Yes,  you have done much for the innocence of the multiverse this day.

The figure standing behind the pulpit marked Justice raises a rand from within its robes, revealing a hand covered in a finely crafted gauntlet crafted of pure white metal with fine golden etchings on it, the gold almost radiating a soft glowing light)

[Justice]:  Now is not the time to pat ourselves on the back and relax.  You have served the Light with great honor Seraphim Jharm, but there is still much evil present.  The legions of Chaos still rage throughout this "Eye of Terror" and what of this "Labyrinth" that you're companion spoke of? (The voice booms in a loud masculine voice, the sound almost echoing off the far walls)

"Unfortunately it would seem you know as much as I do great Council.  I do fear that whatever may lay within will test me and my companions even more then the Despoiler did."

[Honor]:  A test we all feel you will meet and conquer Jharm.  Remember, even in the darkest, most horrific of places the Light still exists and will still come to aid those that do battle to protect the weak and mild. (The voice rings out, sounding both gentle but strong)

Jharm places the head of his massive hammer onto the ground and kneels down as the three figures raise their gauntleted hand and beging to chant, a white glowing forming around their hands and then transfering over to the angellic guardian.

[All three]:  Now go High Seraphim of the Light.  May Truth, Honor, and Justice follow you wherever you go.

With that all 3 figures vanish in a flash of white light, leaving the Seraphim alone until he fades away shortly after, returning to his physical form once more

As his essence re-enters his form, the Seraphim's eyes open up, glowing a soft white light, revealing that he is once again at full strength.  Standing up and hefting his massive hammer onto his shoulder Jharm raises his left hand into the air and places a blessing on his companions, meant to strengthen their resolve in battle and fortify the mind.  He then walks over to Kalana and places his massive gauntleted hand gently on her shoulder.

"Fear not mi'lady.  For the Light is with all of us and shall aid us in defeating whatever horrors we may face within."

[Kitharsis]

Kitharsis glances down at Kalana.  Thirty minutes she said.  Not nearly enough time, but it will do.  The Tirthandara gives a nod to Danyael as he leaps out of the rising forcefield.  A shower of sand follows behind him as he lands heavily on the ground.

"Thank you, Kalana.  This rest is much appreciated."

He sits on the ground and closes his eyes.  The spark of pure energy inside him flares to life as he concentrates on purifying the vast darkness within him.  White light shines out of the corners of his closed eyes, and the numerous tattoos on his body faintly shimmer with white energy.

The composure of his inner self quickly builds like a young storm.  Strands of white swirl around a central point building in thickness and speed.  As time has gone by he has become increasingly more efficient at the purification process.  Soon a mass of pure energy is building within him.  The air around the peaceful warrior becomes more crisp and dry, and a warm breeze tugs at his mohawk.  The tattoos on his body glow brightly with white light.  The many wounds he has accrued in battle follow suit and glow even more brightly.

The skull tattoo on his arm flashes and a tiny skeleton crawls out of it.  It flashes multiple times, and soon a small army of skeletons are crawling over his body.  They place their little hands on the numerous wounds on his flesh.  As they do so their bodies glow with increasing intensity until they vanish in a flash and a pop.  The wound they were standing over heals slightly with each skeleton, and soon his skin is as smooth and unbroken as before.  He still wears the scars from his wounds, they will fade with time.  But there is no more danger from his energy leaking out of the cracks in his body. 

As this is all happening he is still focusing on the darkness inside him, purifying the limitless energy he is so strangely tied to.  He knows that he won't be able to create enough of a reserve to weather the upcoming trials he and his companions are going to encounter. 

Fumbling through the many pouches on his belt, he finally finds the charm he was looking for.  It is a piece of bone with numerous runes carved into it.  Holding it in his left hand, a lazy strand of energy travels from the circle on his palm into the charm.  The runes blink one by one with pings of light, until the charm goes dormant again. 

He doesn't know how Kalana's manipulation of time would effect the power of the runes.  Opening one white glowing eye, he cocks his head and looks into the sky above him.  Shrugging, he closes his eye once again and returns the entirety of his attention to meditating.

[Danyael]

Everything felt so distant; and yet still more familiar than foreign. He had spent countless ages lost within the Warp, and still amidst his newly found friends, he still felt so very lost in time - both in and out of his appropriate place, wherever/whatever that may be. He felt the rise and fall of the streams of turmoil beneath him as the ebb and flow of spectral energies coated his sight. So high did the sphere rise that the defeat of Abbadon (what little part he didn’t play in making it so) felt as little more than a distant memory.

And then, suddenly, he felt the energies of those within the sphere begin to move out of sight, one by one. He watched their auras blend their the veil of the sphere, drifting to some unforseen sanctuary below. He watched as Garr was the first to descend. It puzzled Danyael how the Elemental could just ‘phase’ through a barrier compiled of energies constructed by the wellspring itself. Perhaps there was a chink in the ethereal armor he’d toiled away in making to protect them. He dabbled on the thought no longer, as the young sorceress, who’s name he never knew, was next to descend. And then his friend, poor Kith. At first, he felt as if he’d failed them in some way, unbeknownst to the sensation of new energies rippling outside the barrier.

He looked around to notice a dome of swirling ether, halting the ascension of the barrier just before contact. With the limp Kari gripped securely in his arms, the ascension reversed and he followed his companions back down to the Eidolon Wastelands. The sphere peeled away at itself until the Nephilim Lord and the Water Elemental stood alone in the sky. He touched down softly, quickly enough not to linger and yet carefully enough not to jostle the elemental. The poor girl had been through enough trauma already. Noticing his partial distance between him and his friends, he makes his way over, slowing to cross by Kith, offering a nod and a kindly smile, referencing their exchange of thoughts of Danyael’s prior assurance that he would never stop protecting Kith. His friend would always be first amidst his many priorities.

Without a sound, he made his way to the elementals, giving an additional nod of recognition to the Seraphim before he offered Kari, still wrapped comfortably in his cloak, to Garr. There was nothing to say. There was nothing worth saying. The fact that the girl lived was what he cared about most. He remembered that the elementals didn’t trust him. He knew the possibility that his behavior at first meeting was not the best of first impressions. Perhaps he would redeem himself in their eyes. Perhaps he wouldn’t. But at least the girl that tried to save him, unneeded as her help was however, was alive. At least he could return the favor to her.  He remembered the one who erected the time bubble mention that the companions had half an hour to rest. More than I need... he thought with a half smile after turning from them and walking away. Still in silence, he walked on, each step acting as a moment in time for him, rebuilding what he had lost from the previous battle, feeding from the warp energies, condensing them to such a degree as his body began to conduct the invisible forces around him. He drank of the energies in silence, replenishing what was expended with intense alacrity. Looking for a familiar face, as he left the connection to the wellspring open, he walked past Faidth, patting her gingerly on her shoulder before finally settling down in meditative sitting a yard away from Kith.

Another fine mess, he thought, treating himself to a chortle before returning to stern quietude.  A soft exhale brought him to the proper state of mind where all thoughts coexisted in the same time and space, all blended together into a single portrait where he traced back through his memories to find that point of oneness that would bring about the anticipated rush of energies. As a nephilim, he always had a strong connection to the Divine. As a lord of the Imperium Sanctus, he had a connection to all of its territories. And as himself, he had a connection to everything he held dear. He closed his slanted, catlike eyes for but a moment. But the moment outside of his mind was as hours within his subconciousness, drinking of the wellspring as its bountiful endlessness coursed through him in ripples of conciousness. He felt the ground beneath him diminish as he floated inches above the dirt. After the fractions of time, Danyael, moderately satisfied, took another inhale, then exhaled as he opened his eyes to look back toward Kari. He would offer to heal her, if she needed healing, but thought better of it. The memory of his previous barbarism was still fresh in the minds of her friends. He'd not wake their ire for a paltry offering of aid. 

And so he took stock of the remaining companions. Of the young sorceress, whose name he didn't know. He didn't know why, but he liked her; as if any of that mattered when copared to the grander scheme of things. He looked to his old brother in arms, Soul Reaver, to whom he still held a lingering respect and then looked to the great Seraphim, whose name he also never had the pleasure of knowing. In some ways, he was more foreign to these people than they were to him. But those were thoughts better left unspoken.

[Cameron]

Gar nods a silent thanks to Danyael as he accepts Kari from him. The Elementals tend to her, and soon enough she is upright, using her own recovering energies to aid her healing as well as assist in the recovery of Karyl, who had taken a serious blow during the fight with Abbadon.

Kalana nods and smiles at Jharm when he speaks, and speaks a brief "You are welcome" to Kitharsis when he offers his thanks. She herself is rebuilding the mental energies she spent on creating the time bubble, hoping to at least be at half strength again by the time it wears off.

And in what seems like a matter of moments, the half an hour is up. The companions can feel reality normalizing around them, and with it come the sounds of battle. Bolter and las fire mix with explosions and screams, both human and inhuman, screams of rage and pain from both sides. it is in the direction of this cacophony of violence, holding a hand to the vox bud in her ear.

"We must hurry. The front line has reached the gates, but they are being pushed back. Abbadon has kept us occupied for way too long."

Kalana beckons to the companions to follow as she and the Elementals gather their equipment and move towards the battlefield.

After a few minutes, the group crests a hill and looks down on the carnage below. The gates to the Labyrinth are here. Massive black gates that at first glance appear to be wrought from black iron. Closer inspection reveals something more sinister. The great gate is actually made of the blackened, living flesh and bone of slaves from many human and alien races. They have been crafted into a solid biomass of squirming, stinking, wailing corruption. As stray bolts from the battle strike this massive construct, it shudders and screams and bleeds, but holds fast.

In front of this gate are the amassed forces of Chaos. Chaos marines hurl purple-tinged bolter fire into their enemies. Noise Marines line the steps leading to the gate, blasting their sonic weapons at any unfortunate soul who comes too close. The power of these can melt even a Space Marine's eardrums and boil his brain inside his skull. Plague Marines hurl cocktails of exotic, never before seen viruses into the fray, causing many a Marine who neglected to wear a helmet to suffer maladies ranging to minor mutations to full blown cellular breakdown as their flesh sloughs from their bones. The Khorne Berserkers lead the  defense, entrenched in melee combat with Assault marines and holding the front line fighters at bay with chain-axes and blood-curdling screams.

Opposing them are the remaining Space Marine forces, representing all available chapters, including the newly returned Dark Angels. Chapter is largely forgotten at this point. Black Templars fight back to back with Imperial Fists. An Ultramarine pulls a wounded Blood Angel out of the fray while another Blood Angel and a Dark Angel leap in to cover their retreat. Mixed through all of this are flashes of bright steel, the armor of the Grey Knights. They lash out with their Nemesis weapons and pour bolter fire into their foes. Terminators clash with their dark brethren In the sky, Assault Marines take on their  Raptor counterparts, pouring promethium from their jet packs as they spill the blood of their mortal enemies. In the midst of this, Tanks from either side spill missiles, autocannon blasts, and las-fire into the enemy lines.

The sight of this is impressive. Each side still boasts thousands of troops, and they all have converged on this same spot. Even now, stragglers from both sides rush in to join the fray. Not since the Horus Heresy have these two foes amassed such a force against each other. Yet it is plain to see that the Chaos forces, with their dark gate at their back, have the advantage. They are slowly but surely driving the Marines back.

Kalana summons her energy blades, and the Elementals unsheath their weapons. With a combined cry, they leap into the fray. As the surprised Chaos forces look up, they see the approaching Elementals, and the companions still on the hill.

Reinforcements have arrived.

[Soul Reaver]

Though he still feels drained, Soul Reaver notices that time has run out.  There was a battle ahead of them, a spectacular whirling conflict on land and in the air, lances of technological fire sizzling back and forth and the multilayered, constant staccato boom of gunfire.  Death and conflict was everywhere, and the allied marine forces were losing.

The Elementals charge ahead.  No words were needed - this was the cue to join the fray.

Soul Reaver hefts Blooddrinker, the sword unnaturally light in his hand.  It was drawing him forward into the fight, so eager was it to consume the tainted flesh and blood of Soul Reaver's enemies.

Keeping the blade low and behind him, Soul Reaver gives a battle cry and sprints headlong toward the battle.  In moments, he is in the midst of the combat.

Stray Bolter shells crack and explode around him, throwing up dust and hot chips of rock.  Nobody seems to be targetting him directly, but the sheer mass of gunfire is overwhelming.  Ducking behind the smouldering wreck of an allied Rhino transport, he closes his eyes, murmuring magical syllables and gesturing with his free hand.  A soft white glow suffuses his hand, then pulses outward, forming a white sphere around him that then swiftly fades from view.  The Protection from Missiles spell should keep the worst of the enemy gunfire at bay.

He glances out from behind the Rhino, assessing the situation.  Behind the screaming berserkers, the enemy was entrenching a strong - but stationary - fire support line.  With the berserkers keeping the assault marines from closing in, this would be a major issue.  It was time to offer some assistance.

Soul Reaver vaults onto a jutting piece of armour, magic welling up around him as he focusses on the intended target area.  He speaks syllables of magic, mana pouring through him like cold fire.  He is fusing two spells into one, determined to cause as much damage as possible to the tightly-packed masses of heavily armoured chaos infantry and vehicles.  Soul Reaver extends his free hand as several bolter shells ricochet off the white barrier around him

The air above a concentrated mass of Chaos marines shimmers and crackles, then bursts into dark life.  A sphere of black lightning hovers ominously overhead, popping and screeching deafiningly.

Only a few marines raise their helmeted heads upward in time to see it before it fires.  None had a chance to hide.

The Shadow Lightning Storm unleashes a horrific payload, sending down arcs of jumping, searing darkness.  The Shadow Lightning bolts unerringly strike at several of the marines below.  Their unholy armour offers no protection as the deadly energy courses through them, their organs frying in their bodies, acrid smoke puring from the slits in their helmets.  Their bodies jerk and shudder madly.  Several bolters explode as their shells ignite, taking out the hands and forearms of the marines holding them.

Soul Reaver stands stock-still, overseeing the carnage, his hand still outstreched.  He was not yet done.

As the first bodies start to fall, the crackling electrical energy that suffuses them leaps like a predator to another target.  A plague marine attempts to escape, only to have the bolt slam into his back.  A chaos Predator tank attempts to level its turret, only to be struck by three bolts simultaneously, blasting apart its main guns in a massive black mushroom cloud.  And yet more arcs burst from the central sphere, pouring into the defending Chaos marines below it.

The chaos soliders are decimated, fifty or sixty already lie dead or incapacitated as the Shadow Lightning Storm screeches and screams.  Soul Reaver continues to stare at the target, hand outstretched, beads of sweat running down his brow from directing the ever-increasing number of Shadow Lightning bolts.

Then, a burst of red lasgun fire strikes the ruined transport beneath Soul Reaver's feet, narrowly missing him, and heavy bolter fire begins to pour at him in massive waves.  He had certainly attracted attention.  His protective barrier was fizzing bright white, working overtime to deflect the incoming fire.  He knew he had to stop, or risk being cut down by the sheer amount of incoming shots.  He drops his hand, and the lightning storm dissipates into a cloud of dark mana.  The remaning Shadow Lightning bolts arc harmlessly into the ground or crackle out of existence.

But his first blow had struck, and it must have hurt.  He had punched a sizable hole into the chaos support forces at his location, and managed to redirect a lot of fire from elsewhere as well.  It should open the way for the allied Marines here to surge forward and establish a foothold.

As he drops down behind the cover of the Rhino again, he already starts formulating his next move...

[Veldanya Venalla]

Jharm quickly follows the Elementals and observes all of the activity, his eyes settling on the horrific gate and the horrifying buildings "blocks" used to construct it.  He watches as Soul Reaver launches the first attack, lightning surging through Chaos Marines, obliterating anything in its path.

The Seraphim knows that more is needed then simple firepower.  With this in mind he hefts his massive warhammer in one hand and launches into the air, white light beginning to radiate from his body, slowly growing brighter and brighter until he is a glowing white beacon in the sky the light blinding or atleast impairing any evil foe who gazes upon the radiant figure soaring across the twisted sky while bolstering and strenthening the resolve of any friend of the mighty Seraph which is only made stronger by the battlecry thy he emits...the very strength of the word diminishing the terror caused by the unholy epithets and screams of the Chaos

"Stand fast fellow soldiers!  The Light is with you this day!"

As he flies over he works his healing and protective magic, helping to reinforce the Marine line, every once in a while launching beams of light to cut down Chaos forces that threatened to punch through.   He continues this work, trusting in his companions to focus more on assaulting the vile Chaos minions.

[Kitharsis]

Kalana's time bubble dissipates around them.   The sound of battle rouses Kitharsis out of his meditation as he groggilly shakes his head and opens his eyes.  His tattoos stop glowing and his previously glowing white eyes have returned to normal.  With a stretch he stands and adjusts the belt at his hips.  Squinting, he pulls up the bone charm that he had activated earlier and inspects it.  A sigh escapes his lips as he stuffs it back into a pouch.

"It seems our moments rest is over, my friend."  He says to Danyael.  Kitharsis moves to offer his hand to help Danyael up, a courtesy moreso than him needing it.  Yet he stops mid bend and mutters, "Finally..." under his breath before straightening and looking up. 

Catching himself he offers an, "Excuse me," to Danyael then returns his attention to the sky above him. 

A small portal opens a yard above his head.  A skeletal head pokes out of it and spins three hundred sixty degrees before finally looking directly below.  It sticks an arm out and gives Kitharsis a wave as it pops back in.  The portal expands a few more feet as a huge tan jug falls out of it.  The jug is quiclky caught by Kitharsis with a grunt.  It is wider than his chest and comes up to his hips.  There is a strap wound tightly around it that Kitharsis pulls tight as he slings the gigantic pottery over his shoulder.

He looks into the portal and nods as it snaps shut.  With a grin he pats the side of the jug resting on his back.  "More ammunition."

With that he lumbers off towards the battlefield, the jug swaying behind him as he gains momentum.  Clearly it is quite heavy, but with each step Kitharsis becomes less and less encumbered.  Before long he is running normally, the jug on his back looks to be moving with him, rather than holding him down.

The Elementals have already entered the battle, Jharm was flying above and Soul Reaver was crouched behind a tank.  It looks like Soul Reaver has already done a number on the chaos marines.  They were aiming their fire at him and his tank.  The vehicle was holding up for now, but it was being torn apart rapidly.

The lid of the jug comes off with a "Pop!" and hangs loose swaying to the side.  The air grows warm and dry around Kitharsis as he inhales deeply.  Sand pours out of the jug and swirls around him.

Focusing on the Chaos forces preoccupied with attacking Soul Reaver, Kitharsis thrusts his hands forward.  The sand gathered around him shoots off into their direction.  During its flight the sand gathers into long twisting spikes spinning like drills.  The spikes crash into the Chaos marines, punching through their armor and grinding through the group.  Their attemps to shoot at or slice through the sand only scatters it for a moment before it collects itself back into the twisting, grinding spikes.

With a snap of Kitharsis's fingers the spikes burst into a cloud of sand.  The cloud pulls away from the battlefield and gathers around the Tirthandara once again as he charges down the hill.  A barrier of sand deflects any fire that he can't dodge, and the jug at his back proves to be an exceptionally good shield.

With warhammer raised, he bowls into the group of chaos marines.  Spikes of sand peircing and warhammer crushing as he mows through the survivors of his earlier barrage of spikes.

[Danyael]

The respite was too short and ill-enjoyed, though some solace from Kith made the moment a fine one. “Yes.” Danyael said in response. “So it seems.”
 
“Finally...” he heard Kith say as the Tirthandara’s gaze focused on the chaos over the hill. As Kith excuses himself, Danyael gives a soft smile and nods as he watches his friend ready himself for battle and dash into the foray. The Nephilim Lord vanished, setting himself atop an uprooted pile of earth just in time to witness Soul Reaver’s lightning attack. The rush of brilliant lights from magic roaring around him was truly a sight only he could see in real time. The sudden arrival of the Seraphim’s aid was one worth experiencing, as he rained down holy light upon what was assumed to be their allies. Danyael’s eyes watched the energies rage against one another, the negative suddenly no longer as prevalent against the positive. Truly was it a picture perfect portrait of light against dark. And for the moment, the light was making its comeback.

A stray bolt seared through the air, whizzing past Danyael. With a sigh, he vanished once more, reappearing at the vanguard of the Space Marines, walking through the warring Chapters as if they were air. Though he could see the raging energies from the battle rock the landscape, his sense became all the more acute when closing his eyes, opening himself to the sensations of the land. Thousands of auras flaring and clashing against each other in a dazzling theater of spectacles and sunfire.

The chorus of carnage around Kith lessens to little more than a hum, muted out by a soft whistling. Refractions of sky light make out the shapes of five massive, glimmering, ghost-like swords; to each their own eerie, alien design. The same eerie wall of swords began to manifest around Soul Reaver as well, accompanied by a soft murmuring of whispers. “To buy you time...” the voices said, all belonging to the one who’d summoned them in the first place.

And now it was time for the Nephilim Lord to act. He vanished in a burst of speed, dashing past the armies as they blurred by him in a clashing spectacle of colors until he was directly in the midst of the enemy. His reflection in the armor of the marines glared back at him with wrathful vehemency, preceding the sudden change. The marines rushed Danyael with a warrior’s lust, their greed at such an easy kill unnaturally attracting them to him, unwitting in that their minds were in fact being lured with incredibly vivacity, the Nephilim Lord’s reflection gleaming in their eyes. Just as they were ready to set about upon him, they found they couldn’t move, the closest of them horrified to see their weapons mere inches from Danyael’s face.

And then the horrors were made anew. A fist burst through the chest of the closest marine, while another handful crumpled in on each other by forces beyond normal sight. The third wave contorted in convulsions beyond their control before being shredded from the inside out as blood red manifestations tore their way into the living world. The many who were ‘touched’ by Danyael’s reflection were soon left as nothing more than husks of pulp and pussing cruor.

The sickly forms shrieked in curdled screams with such furor that what marines lucky enough not to catch Danyael’s ‘touch’ were forced to finally step back in retreat. But one of the figures’ faces snapped to attention at the first marine to step back, saying. “No... There’s no escape.” and the creatures exploded into a blinding, bloody rampage, cleaving through enemies as if they were wheat to a scythe. From each corpse hatched another beast to continue the assault, feeding off of the prana of the dying vessels in order to sustain the forms of the beasts on the mortal plane. The more they killed, the more the number of beasts doubled, spreading rapidly through the enemy numbers in an expanding wave of death and violence, tearing a bloody swathe of terror through the enemy.

“I doubt it’s this easy.” Danyael’s voice said, oddly enough, directly next to Soul Reaver, leaning against the Rhino with arms crossed and his head down. How he got there from the battlefield, or if he had always been there was never important. Though his seemingly laid back body language suggested a lackadaisical state of mind, beneath it all he was anything but. The sight of the fleshly structure the chaos marines were trying to protect never escaped his notice. And appearances notwithstanding, he was more than prepared, albeit from plans within plans, for whatever might possibly come through it. Or so he hoped.

[Faidth]

The stench of evil in this place was practically palpable. Never before had she seen a gate of such horrific construction, and never before had she seen such creatures as these. She had encountered so much in such a short period of time. Some of it was awe-inspiring, but most of it was jarringly awful and sent her senses reeling.

Marius was a firm believer in that there was much more in the universe than the Oslow, the Trobiaks, the Borillians and the natives of Fyra, but Faidth had never in her wildest dreams surmised such beings and such places could exist. Seeing these harbingers of chaos, these corrupted creatures of pure evil, desperately made her yearn to be amongst even the Oslow again. The screaming gate and writhing mounds of sentient flesh that resided within, made her homesick for the sands of Fyrellia.

She watchs as her companions clash with the threat before them. She knows little of the conflict between these two armies, save for what the silver-clad warrior, Cameron, had told her. However, it was apparent which were the enemy here.

Instinctively, Faidth begins to spin the Skeerya within her hands, and launches herself forward into the fray. This time, when the flames erupt from her shoulders, trail down her arms, and finally grace her weapons, she is almost prepared for the conflagration that surrounds her. She still does not know from where the fire comes, or why Marius had never made mention of it in all their years of training, but she resolves to use this gift against those who threaten her or her companions.

Her weapons tear through the armor of any foe she comes upon, sending spouts of blood and heaps of disembodied limbs falling to the ground. For some of these creatures, there are many limbs to contend with. Some have eight arms, others bear two heads, and many have other unspeakable mutations.

 Her gaze falls upon several collections of enemy soldiers clad in impressive armor and carrying immense weapons. Huge spikes adorn their massive pauldrons and skulls, perhaps trophies of those they have slain, hang from the armor like macabre mementos. Knowing these creatures will surely pose a substantial threat, she charges forward to lay waste to them.

Seeing the ball of flame and flashing weapons hurtling towards them, the Chaos Terminators turn their weapons towards Faidth. Those armed with heavy flamers see that this foe will be impervious to their weapons, so those armed with autocannons and plasmaguns try to succeed where their companions have failed. Faidth slams her Skeerya through the barrel of a plasma gun, and thrusts the other half of her Skeerya through its helmet and embedding it into its skull. She tears the weapon free, the head of her foe still embedded upon the end, and swings it forward to clobber another enemy. Ferociously, she swings the weapon forward again and again, effectively beating the creature to death with his companion's head. Meanwhile the plasmagun overloads and Faidth, sensing the influx of energy, feels herself being yanked backward as her teleportation takes effect. The weapon explodes, smattering nearby chaos marines in a spray of plasma.

More terminators advance upon Faidth with lightning claws while others begin to unload their autocannons upon her. She slams an open palm on the ground before her, sending arcs of shooting flame through the ground where it erupts beneath the feet of her foes, knocking them on their backs. Before they can rise to meet her again, she charges forward, her Skeerya flashing as she brings it down upon each one, penetrating the armor and severing the flesh beneath.

[Faidth]

GOD-MOD FOR SEPHER (#1)

Sepher's black trenchcoat billows around him as a foul wind permeates the battlefield. He turns his piercing blue eyes to the carnage before him and unsheathes his seemingly mundane blade, Crimson Wind. The lack of adornment and grandeur of the blade belies its true purpose. It is a weapon with an impressively sharp edge that can be reforged at will.

Sepher joins the rest of the companions on the battlefield. His katana slices through foe after foe, leaving heaps of dying Chaos soldiers to gargle their last breaths at his feet. An enemy Captain catches sight of Sepher... and then his recently fallen charges littered around him. The Captain charges forward, the anti-matter fields on his lightning claws crackling as he seeks to embed them into Sepher's skull.

However, before he can close the gap, Sepher mutters a few words under his breath, and his katana instantly transforms into an immense, spiked mancatcher. Sepher thrusts the weapon forward, ensnaring the Chaos Captain. Before the Captain can turns his claws to the task of damaging Crimson Wind, Sepher hoists the mancatcher into the air, and drops the end of the weapon, and the shocked Chaos Captain onto another group of advancing enemies.

[Cameron]

The Chaos forces are caught off guard by the sudden, violent assault of the companions. Finding their ranks decimated in places, the remaining forces do their best to regroup. Regrouping forces start focusing their fire away from the Space Marines and onto each of the companions, trying to slow their progress.

The Elementals stay airborne, swooping in and dealing with the Chaos Raptors. They manage to kill a few squads of them, allowing the Assault Marines to regroup and push forward. Kalana pops in and out of combat, performing quick strikes anywhere she sees a wounded soldier requiring assistance. She quickly pulls rank and gathers a small group of Terminator Assault marines from various chapters. They use their localized teleporters to bounce in and out of combat with her in devastating hit and run strikes that leave the enemy force reeling. Foes quickly drop in their path, lacerated by lightning claw and psy-blade alike.

From the back lines, near the gate, Chaos Sorcerers see the changing tide of battle and enact ageless sacrificial rituals. Soon a large pack of Bloodthirsters lunge into the fray, scattering allied and enemy troops alike. Not since the Horus Heresy have this many Bloodthirsters been called into service at once. They scan the battlefield and target the companions, with one of their number splitting off to target each companion individually. The greater agents of chaos take flight on giant wings and attack each companion with a downward swing of their massive axes.

[Veldanya Venalla]

As Jharm flies over the frontlines he watches as the marines slowly seem to be gaining ground.  Suddenly the Seraphim senses massive waves of evil radiating from nearby the portal.  Upon glancing over he spots numerous Bloodthirsters materialize and take flight toward each companion.  As the demon reaches Jharm he attacks the Seraph with his massive axe, the head slamming down into the shaft of jharms hammer causing bright sparks to appear as neither weapon wants to budge.  The two beings struggle against each other, vying to see who will win out.
     It would seem that of the two Jharm is stronger for with a twist to the side he manages to throw the bloodthirsters axe out to the side allowing Jharm to raise his left hand and blind the demon with a massive flash of light.  The next thing the demon feels is a massive force articling it from above as the Seraphim slams him with a downward strike, the force sending the massive creature crashing down to the ground crushing a sqquad of chaos marines unfortunate enough to be below the aerial flight.  Out of the cloud of dust and dirt the bloodthirster comes barreling,  his armor crushed by the Seraphims attack.  Before Jharm can react the bloodthirster manages to grab him and begins to try and crush him to death.
    Suddenly Jharm begins to glow as he begins to channel the Light through him, the holy power coarsing through him and into the demon, and begins to "purify" him from the inside out.  Realizing his mistake the bloodthirster attempts to release the holy being but finds that his clawed hands have fused to Jharm, trapping the demon.  Knowing that the trap is now complete Jharm focuses inward, increasing the power flowing into the demon tenfold.  Suddenly the bloodthirsters eyes begin to glow white and cracks appear all over his body as beams of light erupt out of him, then suddenly in the blink of an eye a massive explosion tears across the sky athing the area in a bright glow as the demon explodes, his entire body being vaporized leaving naught a trace behind.  With the immediate threat ended for now the Seraphim returns to his work of healing and protecting the marines below him.

[Soul Reaver]

Soul Reaver watches with grim satisfaction as the Elementals and the rest of the Companions crash into the chaos line.  Above, Jharm lends support as beams of light heal the allied forces and burn their enemies, while Sepher advances into the thick of the battle, lopping off limbs left and right.

Heavy gunfire still hammers against the wreck of the Rhino, threatening to tear through the barricade, when Kitharsis suddenly thunders into battle to provide relief.  Lances of animated sand punch into the Chaos ranks, exploding outwards and scouring flesh from bone.  Before they can recover, Kitharsis is in their midst, his hammer slamming into their armoured bodies, alternately smashing them into the air and pounding them lifelessly into the dust.

Suddenly, five ghostly swords materialize near Soul Reaver.  His momentary alarm abates when he hears Danyael's voice.  Obviously this was the doing of his ally.  Amidst the gunfire, he can hear more screams as Danyael does his bloody work.  And then, out of nowhere, Danyael is standing right next to him.

"I doubt it's this easy," he says.

Soul Reaver flashes Danyael a quick glance, his face impassive.  "We caught them off guard, but they will regroup if we let them.  We must drive the attack home."

With Kitharsis bowling through the nearby Chaos marines like a battering ram, most of the fire directed at the Rhino has abated, and so Soul Reaver leaps from behind it, ready to rejoin the battle.

He spots Faidth in the midst of the enemy, tearing apart Chaos Terminator Marines, one just now detonating amidst a surge of flame, and Kalana rallying the Assault Terminators against her foes.

However, the forces of Chaos are still legion, and Soul Reaver notes that they have already taken stock of the new threats.  Their gunfire is starting to shift away from the allied Marines and concentrating on the Companions.  Faidth, Sepher and Jharm all seem to be dangerously exposed.  Even now, Chaos Terminators were levelling their autocannons toward Faidth.  And from the rear of the Chaos lines, baleful energies wash over the battlefield.  Soul Reaver’s brows furrow.

Foolishness!  They will be shot down at this rate!

“Danyael, see what you can do to guard Jharm!  I will try to help Faidth!”

Soul Reaver raises his left hand toward Faidth and focuses her in an intense gaze.  He murmurs an incantation, and another Protection from Missiles spell snaps into life around her.

But the momentary distraction could prove costly.  The roaring of the wind under black wings alerts Soul Reaver only at the last moment as a massive Bloodthirster plunges from the skies straight down toward him.  Uttering a curse under his breath, Soul Reaver somersaults backward as a massive bronze axe-blade embeds itself a metre into the rocks on which he had just been standing.

The towering, blood-spattered form of the Greater Daemon bellows at Soul Reaver, its foetid breath washing over him, thick with the cloying stench of death and gore.  It’s stance low, it sends a barbed whip streaking toward Soul Reaver’s face.  Soul Reaver ducks lightning fast, sending the whip whistling past overhead.

 But unfortunately this is not the end of the Bloodthirster’s assault.  Like a sinuous, living thing, the whip wraps itself around the torn remains of the Rhino that had given Soul Reaver shelter.  Roaring, its muscles flexing beneath sweat-streaked fur, the Bloodthirster hurls the entire Rhino straight at Soul Reaver.

And then, Blooddrinker is in Soul Reaver’s hands, hot anger washing over him.  Soul Reaver makes no move to avoid the incoming projectile.  In a single, vicious upward slash, Blooddrinker cleaves the Rhino right down the middle, the two halves flying apart, one to each of Soul Reaver’s sides.

The Bloodthirster is already following up its assault with a flurry of axe strikes.  Despite its massive size, it is incredibly fast, its giant axe a veritable blur in the air.  Soul Reaver parries with equal fervor, showers of red sparks bathing warrior and Daemon alike as the weapons impact upon each other.  At first, several blows still get through, leaving bloody cuts along Soul Reavers arms and one almost smashing off his armoured left pauldron.

But as the melee continues, the tide of the battle seems to turn.  Soul Reaver seems to be able to predict his enemy’s attacks, Blooddrinker meeting the axe, twisting its blows aside with ever-increasing ease.  As the Bloodthirster’s whip uncoils again, it is sliced through by a deft swipe from Soul Reaver’s blade.  This only serves to increase the Daemon’s maddened fury.  It lunges forward, its axe held in both hands, sending down a brutal overhead smash.

But the curved blade does not connect.  Soul Reaver, legs braced, intercepts the blade with his own.  Arcs of power crackle from his body as he strains against the Bloodthirster’s might, the Daemon howling with anger as this one man holds all its strength at bay.

And then, with a rapid succession of wet thwacks, Danyael’s five ghostly blades lunge forward and embed themselves one after another in the Daemon’s chest.  It’s roar of anger changes to one of agony as the blades pull free.  It takes a step back onto a cloven hoof, a hand clutching over the gaping, bleeding holes in its brass armour.

But Soul Reaver allows it no escape.  With a cry of furious triumph, Soul Reaver leaps at the Daemon.  His steel-shod boots slam into the furred flesh next to the Daemon’s neck, finding purchase amongst the intricate, twisted runes that adorn its armour.  Bolter fire whizzing just past his face, Soul Reaver looks down at the Bloodthirster with a malevolent rage to rival that of the Daemon itself.  Blooddrinker’s point hovers above the Chaos Daemon’s face, Soul Reaver holding the blade downward in a two-handed grip.

“This is the end for you, upstart!”

Blooddrinker plunges downward, with the grinding of metal on bone as it slides into the Daemon’s face.  Thick spurts of dark blood spray from its ruined visage, and its roars turn to a choked gurgle.  Finally, the sinister light in its eyes goes out, and the winged giant topples backward.

Soul Reaver withdraws the sword in a quick, fluid motion, and leaps off the Bloodthirster just before it thuds onto the ground and evaporates into raw chaos energy.  Soul Reaver performs an agile roll over the dusty, dead soil and back onto his feet, his eyes scanning the battlefield to see how his Companions have fared…

[Kitharsis]

Sparks fly and screams of anguish and terror bellow out around him as he wades through the unfortunate Chaos Marines who are in his path.  Five swords appear spinning around him as a shield.  With a grunt his warhammer smashes the helmet off a Chaos Marine directly in front of him.  The wretch barely has enough time to scream before a torrent of sand slams into his face and fills his throat.  Kitharsis kicks him out of the way as the sand explodes outwards.  An upward swing launches another chaos marine into the air to be assaulted with grinding spikes of an angry desert.

Whoever erected the shield around Kitharsis was due appreciation, but smack dab in the middle of a legion of Chaos Marines was no time to stop for a handshake.

Kalana and her Terminators blink in a few meters to the side of him.  Their precision strike was quick and deadly.  They were gone as quick as they had arrived.  Kitharsis can't help but smile as he yanks his warhammer's spike out of a Chaos Marine's chest armor. 

It was then that the sky turned black. 

The Chaos Marines around him scatter at the sight of the gigantic wings overhead.  A huge two sided axe catches the light as it falls from the sky.  With the jug of sand weighing him down Kitharsis barely leaps out of the way as the shield of swords deflects the mighty blade.  The axe cracks and crumbles the rocky ground, sending a shower of rocks into the air as it hits.  Rising to his feet, Kitharsis faces his monstrous foe.  The Bloodthirster yanks its axe out of the ground and in the same motion raises it for another attack.  Axe meets warhammer mid swing as Kitharsis retaliates with a heavy blow of his own. 

The Bloodthirster roars as it launches into the air and tries to lop off Kitharsis's head with its axe.  He ducks and rolls in time, the jug making his movements awkward.  As he rises to his feet a thick barbed whip wraps around his legs and yanks him into the air.  The strap on the jug snaps leaving it sitting on the ground below as Kitharsis is lurched upwards.  The barbs dig into his skin and threaten to wear their way through his thick exterior.  The Bloodthirster rises higher into the air, jerking Kitharsis around like a ragdoll.

A thin blade of red energy slides out of the diamond on Kitharsis's hand.  With a wide swing he cuts through the whip and begins tumbling towards the ground.  The Bloodthirster roars in annoyance and dives down to collect it's prey, axe raised above its head.

A geyser of sand erupts from the jug.  It shoots into the sky and catches Kitharsis, propelling him upwards in a crouch.  His warhammer is raised above his head and is charged, glowing intensely with Tirthandaran energy.  Axe meets warhammer again as the two crash together in the air.  An explosion of red illuminates the sky as Kitharsis's warhammer releases its charged energy.  The torrent of sand continues upwards and explodes outwards in millions of tiny glittering pieces.

The sky clears, revealing a wounded Bloodthirster tumbling through the air.  The axe it is holding is destroyed and useless.  One of its wings is irreparably torn, sending it into a flailing spiral as it falls.  Kitharsis is falling after it with warhammer poised.  He slams the spike down into its chest and tears it free as he leaps away.  Blood pours out of the wound as the Bloodthirster lashes out with its claws.  It catches Kitharsis on the leg and sends him head over heels.

The Bloodthirster hits the ground hard, punching a crater into the ground.  The glittering sand from the explosion gathers and slams down onto the helpless Bloodthirster, grinding it into the rocks below.

Kitharsis lands heavily on the ground.  His leg gives out under him and causes him to slam down on his side.  He slides a few meters before coming to rest at the base of his jug.

The sand grinding away the Bloodthirster pulls away and returns to protect Kitharsis. 

No trace was left of the greater demon except for a smooth crater in the rock.

[Danyael]

“Danyael, see what you can do to guard Jharm!  I will try to help Faidth!” he heard Soul Reaver call out. All the Nephilim Lord could do was look up, and quickly thought otherwise of following his companion’s orders. Something was coming. And it was big, deadly and powerful enough to convince Danyael that just this once, it was better to watch his own ass for the time being.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any more desperate for the enemy, they sent their best at the companions. He’d heard of these beasts, these Bloodthirsters as they were known, but never encountered one directly during his time in exile. What he’d heard of them was more than enough to take them seriously: combatants without equal - every crack of their whips or swing of their axes claims another skull for their god. They know neither fear, nor mercy, living only to fight and conquer in the name of their deity.

One of the hulking titans gets its hands on the Rhino as Danyael slowly turns to face the creature. When watching Soul Reaver ready himself for the defense, the Nephilim Lord resigned himself to let the spirit master take the creature on himself. He stood calm against the torrents of anarchy as the beast hurled the Rhino back at them. And then, in a hailstorm of sparks and embers, Soul reaver had completely cleaved the machine in two, both halves clattering and clanking harmlessly past the motionless form of Danyael all the while. When watching the spirit master do his work against the beast, Danyael had to whistle his approval in a long keening note of amusement, even moreso as he watched the Somnus defend its charge.

And then he felt unlife glaring at him from behind. Slowly he turned again, the weight of the world moving with him, as he glared back into the eyes of the very sins of war made manifest. The walking demi-god, by its presence alone, drove the surrounding marines into a howling frenzy, and Danyael watched through his energy-exclusive eyes as he saw the aura of the beast consume the minds of the lesser beings in its path. But rather than rush the demon head on, he had a different tactic. Perhaps an experiment was in order.

He outstretched his hand to his right, seizing control of the chaos marines by way of psychokinesis. He raised his grip and a handful of marines lifted uncontrollably into the air, their limbs flailing while firing off their ordinance in wild panic. The beast, free-thinking as it was, watched the group curiously before Danyael hurled them all directly at it in breakneck speed. With a slashay of its whip, the Bloodthirster had already viciously minced them to chunks of smoldering vitae.

With an inviting hand by the nephilim lord, the Bloodthirster rushed him with a speed belied by its size, crushing its waraxe hard against its target, knocking Danyael back a good distance, kicking up smoke and debris in the wake of the assault. As the smoke cleared, however, the demon’s lips quivered with frustration to see the nephilim lord still standing, the blow simply knocking him back without knocking him off his feet, examining the trail of dented earth before its enemy. And once again, it was Danyael’s turn to act. He hadn’t forgotten about his recent creation of wailing abominations wreaking havoc across the battlefield, shredding up the enemy as if the marines were mere playthings to break and re-piece again and again.

A silent command brought their onslaught to a very swift halt, and they vanished through the earth, collecting into the shadow of their master, each one laughing at their turn until their laughter became Danyael’s laughter. The Bloodthirst didn’t wait to see what would happen next, and rushed Danyael promptly, whirling both weapons with berserker fury. But it hit at nothing but air, as Danyael vanished and reappeared again and again in bolts of uncanny speed. And soon, it began to hit invisible defenses that battered back the attacks with calculated strikes and parries. For every attack, the invisible defenses countered four times more. For every combination, the defenses parried and countered four times as quickly, and four times as harsh.

The attacks and counters continued on in a death defying dance of sparks and ghostly apparitions that soon began to grind up the very vicinity around them. Whenever the Bloodthirster felt it had the upper hand, it would be one-upped by Danyael who would use speed and phantasms in unison against it, moving in and out of reality as the surge of attacks frequented the duel.  And all the while, the champion of chaos didn’t notice that the screaming abominations, their sounds muted out by its duel with Danyael, were still merging with their master. The exchange continued back and forth, the Bloodthirster unleashing one devastating attack after another, while the Nephilim Lord's parry and multi-strike tactic forced back the opposition with expanding intensity, until finally, the color of blood painted the grounds beneath them and the limp form of one of the Bloodthirster's arms clattered helplessly across the ground.

Danyael then stood hunched as if he were a predator ready for the killing pounce. He felt his hands in the earth. He felt his breath on the air. He felt his feet in the dirt and his heartbeat in the drum and bass vibrations around the battlefield. He was the battlefield. Opening himself up to the dead forces deep within the firmament of the land, he allowed the ritual to complete itself. All around his sight went black, colored by the golden spectrum of fading life clashing around him. He felt his own life, his prana, dip deep into the void, into the blackness, spreading out across the seams of reality as time around him began to slow into stillness, until none moved at all. A single, figure, solid black and reflective of the battle around it, approached Danyael, moving through the warring soldiers, now frozen in time, as if it were walking through a mist.

“You called?” the figure asked, suddenly standing before him, looking upon the kneeling form of the nephilim lord with indecipherable expression, shifting infinitely. It could see the ritual had weakened its master. “Another puppet for your collection.” Danyael said, nodding in the direction of the Bloodthirster. But the figure saw many Bloodthirsters. “I can take only one.” it said, its voice cold, yet obedient. Danyael acknowledged, “One it is.” and time caught back up with him just in time for the Bloodthirster to come close enough, still brandishing its whip with its good arm, charged Danyael for one final defiance, carving up ally and enemy alike. Good. Its ebony hoof slammed down on a glitch in reality not inherently seen, causing the ripple to open into a blaring fissure. Beyond the threshold of rippling currents of energy was a realm of voices without origin. Shadowy limbs began to sprout from the heights.

The claws and talons latched onto the demi-god with ravenous ferocity, hungering for the newest soul to be added to their collection of abominations. The more the creature ripped and tore asunder, the more that would latch onto it with double as much might, pulling it into the portal where endless the endless darkness awaited it. Needing nothing to say, he vanished back into the earth, both anticipating the next assault, and rejuvenating from calling on one of the forbidden techniques of his country.