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Author Topic: The Eye of Terror: End of Terror (Part I)  (Read 45280 times)

Offline Cameron

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Re: The Eye of Terror: End of Terror (Part I)
« Reply #180 on: April 30, 2019, 08:03:24 PM »
The light radiates from Jharm and consumes everything around it. Bone and teeth are burned away, and the cracks in the walls begin to widen. Nurgle forces in more smog but the light clears it faster than it can form. With a sudden rumble, the walls collapse and are consumed, leaving Jharm free of Nurgle’s influence.

Tzeentch seems to anticipate Kitharsis’s actions, as it fires a volley of magic from behind Kitharis meant to knock him off balance and stop him from deflecting the spell. Fortunately, Soul Reaver’s arrival was not anticipated, and his defenses easily handle the attacks, leaving Kitharsis free to focus on the shields. The twin lances of disruption are reflected straight back at the cone. The sounds of conflicting majiks swells into a roar, and the cone is  consumed. The few remaining staff wielding appendages attempt to swing into the area the cone occupied but are destroyed by Kitharsis’s secondary volley. The remaining spells die off and Soul Reaver and Kitharsis find themselves uncontested.

The view that the three Companions are presented with explains the god’s silence. Only Danyael’s shifting prison of bodies is still intact. Every ounce of the Avatar’s remaining attention is focused on trying to free itself from the grasp of Gulgrim and move away from the WAAAGH!!! Fire that is slowly but surely consuming it. With three of the four gods now fully focused on Gulgrim, the ork finds his arms being pushed backwards. His body is blasted by bolter fire, bolts of lightning, and poison spikes that seem to fire from the Avatar at completely random locations and intervals. He can also feel a great energy building within the Avatar. Something that is clearly meant for him.

Inside the shell of clones and echoes, Slaanesh laughs a melodious laugh, reminiscent of church bells on a  wedding day, as they shake Danyael’s hand.


Slaanesh’s words are cut short as a number of his clones are obliterated by warp energy, creating a gap where only Danyael’s echoes remain. A figure slips in between them, wreathed in warp fire. A voice intimately familiar to Danyael rings out.

“Danyael? What are you doing?”

This is definitely Mary, but a number of things are certainly off. Her polished plate armor is gone, replaced by traveling clothes and a hooded cloak of colors identical to those of Daynael’s own Everworld cloak. The two handed sword she wields is comprised of a deep obsidian material with bright purple veins of energy coursing through it. And her voice sounds older. Even older than that of the Future Mary that recently left Danyael’s side. The extra time seems to have done her well, as she looks better than ever, and extremely well rested. Danyael can also sense that her power has greatly increased. One would expect her to possibly be angry with the scenario laid out before her, but her only expression is an amused smirk.

“This offer of power would be insulting to the man I know. Are you really going to let this pathetic cast-off of a god, who by the way, is desperate for your help because his friends are outside currently losing badly, try to sway you with promises of things you already have?”

Slaanesh snarls. Their facial expression changes their complexion from one of abject beauty to one of almost terrifying perfection.


Some of the clones disengage from Danyael’s echoes and hurl themselves at Mary, crying and shrieking as they attempt to tear her apart. Mary moves swiftly, cutting the first few down with her sword and consuming the remaining attackers with warp fire. Mary grins.

“Come on, Danyael Ilixandros. Let’s kill a god. For old time’s sake.”

Neither Peterson or Cameron have immediately moved to engage each other. Cameron is taking stock of his energy levels and injuries to see how aggressive he can afford to be. Peterson, meanwhile, no longer has the ability to see Cameron’s moves before he makes them, and is thus holding back to avoid being surprised. Mary is not looking at either of them, and instead has turned her attention back to the warp rift behind them.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Is this not interesting enough for you?”

Mary’s mind was elsewhere, back in the Warp. She can feel something is wrong. Something with Danyael. She briefly considers leaving Cameron and diving back in to try and find them, but she knows that she is currently where she needs to be. She makes a mental note to herself to look into this later before Peterson’s snide comment brings her back to attention.

“Oh, fuck off. You haven’t even attacked yet. You’re just standing there, looking stupid.”

Peterson makes a big show of looking mock offended.

“Well now! You’re talking a mighty big game for someone who I’ve already beaten within an inch of her life today. Anything else to add before I finish the job?”

Mary grins.

“Yeah. Pay attention.”

Peterson has just enough time to look confused before Cameron’s armored boot strikes him directly in the face. He howls in pain as he falls. His few remaining chains dig into the earth and yank him upright and backwards, barely avoiding a downward slash from Valermos. He lands a few feet away.

“Oh, so very fucking CLEVER. Come on, Cameron. Stop fucking around and fight me face to face!”

Peterson takes a step back before lunging at Cameron, who also lunges forward in response. Now the fight truly begins.

Offline Jharm

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Re: The Eye of Terror: End of Terror (Part I)
« Reply #181 on: May 13, 2019, 06:11:41 PM »
The Seraphim floats down to the ground, light still radiating from within him.  His gaze settles on the struggle between Gulgrim and the Avatar.

"Well...three against one.  That certainly doesn't seem to be very fair now does it?  I believe it is time to rectify this.  It seems clear that your...Gork and Mork are quite formidable, you need not face this alone any longer my friend.  The Light, as always, stands with you."

Jharm raises a hand upwards.  From above them a multitude of lights seem to flicker into existence.  The small lights quickly begin to get bigger and bigger as the orbs scream downwards, all focusing in on the Avatar from every direction.
When you can't crawl...when you can't find someone to carry you.

Offline Danyael

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Re: The Eye of Terror: End of Terror (Part I)
« Reply #182 on: June 02, 2019, 12:16:02 AM »
A single finger from one of the echoes lifted to touch Danyael’s lips as he voicelessly uttered a ‘Shhhhh’ ever so gently. Whether he was addressing Mary or Slaanesh wasn’t clear. “You mistake me.” Danyael said, his voice eerily calming in the presence of the now hostile Slaanesh, his grip hardening all the more as the bond between the Prince of Pleasure and the Nephilim Lord of the Imperium deepened. Soon, the forms that were once their ‘arms’ seemed almost indistinguishably similar, as if they were now the same limb linking the two beings together.

“You see… I asked what you offered.” his voice croaked raspy, inlaid with sonorous reverberations following closely after every word. The hold deepened from Danyael’s side. “I never asked you to give me anything.” The shadows that were the echoes quivered with their white light eye slits thinning in shape a bit more, signifying an eerie, unified grin. “And I told you to show me.” Gently, with a croon, he pulled Slaanesh closer.  “I never said I’d accept.” His face instantly now nose tip to nose tip with Slaanesh. “Because you were so wrapped up in thinking you had me, that you didn’t realize…” the chanting whispers now becoming a chorus of bass hisses in the undecipherable language used on Abaddon. “…that you accepted my offer instead. All I needed…” the chanting boomed louder as the shell quaked in continuous reverberation. “…was a willing handshake to seal the deal.”

The air around grew heavy as sound began to pump and pulse with the chorus of voices. With every syllable did Danyael’s very presence become all the more overwhelming, his growing power becoming all the more present in this moment, as if vampiring strength away from the Prince of Pleasure. A sadistic grin stretched across the Nephilim Lord’s face, streaking now from ear to ear, displaying an array of knifelike wolfen fangs as the grin changes into a predator’s snarl. He heaved a deep continuing breath once more and his power grew, almost virtually becoming larger than the prince himself. Then another and another.

The echoes, eyes now flaring hostile in brilliant platinum, turned feral, now screaming their language – now taking a darker more guttural tone – with bestial uproar. At the very instant, the echoes, all interlocked with one another, dissolved into an ichorous mass – then suddenly exploding into dizzying array of inverted spikes that would impale everything within reach – in this case, all of the clones of Slaanesh. At the same moment, Danyael pulled Slaanesh closer, his own pull far beyond anything physical. It was as if all gravity became magnetized, pulled into a vacuum for which the Nephilim lord was its epicenter. His other hand opened wide, where five points of light extended from his fingertips. The collected power from before now pooling into the central point of the five lights, at the core of his palm where, in that very instant, did his lance, the Serenitatis, once again materialize into the world on a straightaway launch toward Slaanesh’s core.
« Last Edit: June 03, 2019, 03:24:01 PM by Danyael »
"Yeah, well, ya' better have a spatula where we're goin' cause my ass is frozen to this yak!" :o

Offline Shadow Chorus

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Re: The Eye of Terror: End of Terror (Part I)
« Reply #183 on: June 02, 2019, 05:51:12 PM »
Gulgrim's feet slowly slide back, kicking up boulders of earth and rubble as his gargantuan form inches across the ground under the assault of the chaos gods. Gulgrim seems to be putting everything into defending himself, sparks of green energy crackling and bursting against attacks coming his direction, his massive arms struggling to deflect and defend against incoming blows. As the focus of the three chaos gods honed in on his current location, the Ork Avatar seemed to be taking real damage, soaking up the combined offensive of three gods of chaos.

"Heh." Gulgrim's voice was low, and quiet, almost impossibly so for such a massive mouth making the sound.

"You'z got a lotta fight in ya', spikey gits. You'z got some right brutality." The orks eyes lock with some of the many, many eyes across the chaos avatar's form.

"If I'z was ta fight ya alone, wif all o' me strength, I'z fink I'd actually lose. An' dat'd be a real shame. A first for da hist'ry books."

The Ork's massive maw slowly curls into a fanged, predatory grin.

"But I'z an Ork. An' Orks fight wif more den' just brutality. We'z Kunninly brutal, an' brutally kunnin'."

Green energy sparked across the gargantuan warboss's frame, his eyes glowing an eerie emerald.

"An' dere'z nobody more kunnin' dan' ole Gulgrim!" The warboss bellowed, his massive, titanic form vanishing in a thunderclap unlike any other.

The rush of displaced air his entire form's teleportation left behind was like a sonic bomb, air rushing in and then blasting out in a shockwave that sent debris flying in all directions as he reappeared on the opposite side of the avatar, neatly cutting through the constant barrage of attacks and positioning himself in what passed for an opening on this towering mass of flesh.


Gulgrim's six arms crashed forward, torrents of warpfire blasting from his eyes and mouth, green lightning cascading across his form as he gave his all into this surprise attack.

Offline Kitharsis

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Re: The Eye of Terror: End of Terror (Part I)
« Reply #184 on: June 03, 2019, 09:41:05 AM »
"Thank you, Soul Reaver.  I fear I underestimated the persistence of this Tzeentch."

Now outside of Tzeentch's grasp, Kitharsis sees the happenings of the main battle.  Gulgrim has grown in size considerably, and was contesting the Avatar of Chaos by himself.  Jharm was firing a volley from a distance.  While Danyael seems to be stuck in the grasp of the Avatar still.  Kitharsis thinks to come to his aid.

Yet, a large build-up in power proves that Danyael was faring just fine on his own.  And it seems that Mary was somehow assisting him already.

"I'm going in."  He says.  "Jelly candy won't cut it once this is over."  Kitharsis puts a hand on Soul Reaver's shoulder.  "May we find a strong drink, and a place of peace for just a moment."

Kitharsis gives a nod, before taking off toward the Avatar of Chaos.

"Allow me some space!"  He shouts, before the tattoos on his body burst into life with crimson energy.

With each step they seem to glow brighter and more intensely.  Crimson specs of sand materialize in the air around him as he runs.  A bellowing shout echoes across what is left of the spire as Kitharsis leaps into the air.

As he leaps crimson sand explodes into existence around him, completely engulfing him in a wild and twisting sand storm.  Its size rivaling the immensity of the Avatar of Chaos.  Brilliant crimson tendrils of energy lash out around him as he sails toward the Avatar of Chaos.

Gulgrim attacks from behind in a surprise attack, and Kitharsis rains down blows from the Avatar of Chaos's flank.  The tendrils lash out like viscous whips, and strike like lances.  The crimson sand grinds and twists, while also solidifying to strike like fists and hammers.  Kitharsis's body is obscured by the massive storm of sand, which acts as much as a defense and an offense.  A central mass of crimson sand and energy protects him and the tiny mage inside the violent storm.
« Last Edit: June 03, 2019, 09:45:02 AM by Kitharsis »

Offline Soul Reaver

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Re: The Eye of Terror: End of Terror (Part I)
« Reply #185 on: June 11, 2019, 04:48:34 AM »
Kitharsis' huge hand claps Soul Reaver on the shoulder - and for a moment, Soul Reaver feels the warmth of real camaraderie, a comforting wisp of conjured memory.  These moments were rare and fleeting, but even through the millenia, they did still mean something.  He returns a smile that says "thank you".

Then Kitharsis launches himself at the Avatar.

Soul Reaver allowed himself just a few moments of contemplation.

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

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

He needed a different weapon.

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

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

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

Stand back.

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

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

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

His heart stops.
« Last Edit: June 12, 2019, 01:37:46 AM by Soul Reaver »