Beauregard Lionette, Jester Lavorre, Caleb Widogast, Sprinkles and Frumpkin- Better Than These Broken Parts
Caleb certainly felt like he was breaking through his friends, but he needed to tread carefully. " I believe you guys are strong enough to beat this." Caleb would snap his fingers and blimp something into existance. It moved fast and stood by Beau and Jester's feet.
" Meow." One thing.. triggered a memory. The cat ran off to the Goddess.
" Frumpkin," Beau said, as she choose Heads.
Silque frowned as they were given a choice between heads or tails, her brows furrowing.
"Heads," She said, watching Valkyrie's controlled body warily as it had disposed of her spells and floated above them.
Heads. A golden light burned the retinas of Beau and Silque. With the light, came heat. With heat, came agony. Screams filled their lungs. Terror filled their hearts. After one, final, seemingly endless moment of life, the spark of the Goddess that lingered within the pair was extinguished like the light of a candle pinched between two great, golden fingers. With their light stolen, the emerald foundations that held their souls in place came tumbling down.
They saw nothing. They felt nothing. They thought nothing.
Yet behind the silence.
Behind the numbness, behind the void...
They felt a certain longing.
A certain sensation.
If they focused the faint afterglow of his essence...
They could hear the hum of a distant war...
A war that had been raging in the dimming heavens for the past 7 years.
They found themselves drifting towards the site where it had all began.
They found himself Hellbound.
Silque and Beau have fallen. Long live Silque and Beau.
Henry's story will continue with the Old Gods in Chapter 5: The Chaos War.
"Oh my sweet Sprinkles," Jester replied, as she choose Tails.
Frumpkin would shoot a glare at the Goddess. She could tell he was Fey in nature and didn't like her.
Sprinkles looked at the Goddess happily. If it got his master to not torture him, she was good in his book.
Tails. A golden light burned the retinas of Jester. With the light, came heat. With heat, came agony. Screams filled their lungs. Terror filled their hearts. After one, final, seemingly endless moment of life, the spark of the Goddess that lingered within the pair was extinguished like the light of a candle pinched between two great, golden fingers. In the absence of the Goddess' light, a vacuum formed. They breathed in deeply. A cold wind flushed through their lungs. With a cough and a splutter, Jester's eyes recovered. Jester had survived. The Goddess hold over them had, at long last, been broken. They were free.
"Yeah, well, my mother wasn't the best and you're really not anything better. As for Crimson, I don't need his promises to fight against you." Alice ground out. Admittedly, she had almost forgotten about the lantern, yet subconsciously kept it close and on her person ever since touching it, something compelled her to keep it close.
When Seteth had stabbed through the Goddess's chest, Alice had reacted by attempting to drive her knife into the Goddess's skull, her words hitting a nerve deep down that made her control over the candles in the room stop as she focused on using her abilities to set the divine being in the husk of a host once known as Izana ablaze from the inside out. Though, with Seteths's weapon taken from him, she moved between both him and the Goddess in case she retaliated with the weapon in question.
The Goddess raised her hand to deflect Alice's attack. For a being as Divine and Radiant as she, enduring a strike from a flaming knife was as simple as saying the right word, or thinking the right thought. It was simple. Easy. And yet, when she raised her hand to brush aside the Phoenix's strike, no invisible shields came to her aid. No great winds rushed to her defense. There were no fireworks. No miracles. Alice's knife pierced Goddess' hand, pinning his wounded appendage to his forehead. An'Lu'Munus' jaw swung loose. Her eye grey eyelids twitched. As flames crept across her stolen face, sizzling the decaying flesh of the man o
nce called Izana, the supposed deity could only muster an utterance of confusion.
"How...?"
Alice's Lantern burned with a greater vibrancy than it ever had before. It's crimson steel casing smoked and rattled against the Phoenix's side. Despite its rapidly its rapidly raising temperature, the flaming cruicible brought her no pain. Only power. Raging, burning, hateful power.
"HOW?!?"
A snappy retort was brewing in the snarkiest depths of Alice Swayne's mind. Before she could share her much-anticipated comeback, however, a new sensation besieged her; brain freeze. A numb, stabbing pain seized her thoughts, throttling them before they could reach her tongue. Her teeth chattered, her chest grew heavy. In a matter of seconds, an icy prism had encapsulated the Phoenix. The chill extinguished her flames.
Fire had met ice. Alice had met Kolin.
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"Crimson has been silenced," Kolin remarked with an attitude as cold as the element she commanded. She discarded her bloodstained gloves indifference, and made her way to the Goddess' side.
"I encountered resistance. I... dealt with it."
"Ah... Kolin..." The Goddess wheezed, falling upon her servant's shoulder for support.
"I exalt you."
"You're hurt, Mother..." Kolin fell silent, disbelief consuming her.
"She hurt you."
"It is nothing, my child." The Goddess cooed weekly.
"It's only this body, it's only this vessel, it's only Izana. The Chaos War... It demands my full attention. My True Body calls to me once again."
"Of course, Mother. These Wayward Sons... they are unworthy of your attention." The Servant hissed in obedience.
"Allow me to tend to your garden. The Chosen and I, we can---"
"Kolin, Kolin, Kolin..." The Goddess hummed.
"You honor me. But those who linger here... they're are unworthy of even the least of us. Do not hate them. Pity them. They'll see the error of their ways soon enough. In time, they shall all be Chosen."
"It Shall Be As It Is Willed, Mother."
"Their ranks have been thinned enough. We have gathered their fallen for the battle to come. The Wings of their Rebellion have been clipped--" The Goddess snapped her fingers. Her hold over Flayn and Eli faded. The pair struck the cracked concrete of the Great Hall with an unnerving
crack.
"We came here for a reason greater than some... senseless slaughter. Leave them be. We're going."
"Of course, Mother..." The Cryomancer knelt before her Lady.
"Of course."
"Let this me a lesson to you all..." The Goddess trumpeted, her strength returning.
"I am Mistress of Mercy, untouched by malice. Tonight, I grant you your lives..." The Moon returned to its place in orbit.
"Tonight, I grant you your freedom. I do so with the knowledge that you will one day choose the chains of servitude I once offered you. I do so with the knowledge you will one day beg for the Order I bring. Until that day comes, go and lick your wounds. Bury your dead. Our paths will cross again soon... I swear it...."
In a flash of emerald, the Goddess and her loyal chosen vanished from view. A chilling silence crept across the hall. The once vibrant and lively hall was now all too quiet and
dead. Eli brushed the soot and filth from his jacket.
"Who do we have left...?" He coughed, raising himself up off of the floor with his one, good arm.
"Who do we have left, damn it!?"
___________________________
Fate of the Old Gods
CHAOS WAR
EPISODE IX
THE CHAOS WAR
FINALE I/II
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Beneath the veil of the heavens, there exists a place of wickedness. It's a place of torture and torment, of sin and selfishness. Ruled by the vile and mad, this world is know to most as 'the Earth'. Beneath the crust of that detestable place lies a place fouler still. This place is reserved by those set themselves apart from the masses of evildoers who roam the worlds above. Those who slip down bellow are reprobates. Through their twisted deeds, they have removed themselves from any promises of salvation, sanctity or forgiveness. This place is known to most as Hell, though such a name is scarcely used nowadays. Not since the Chosen came. Not since Big Mother plunged the already mad world into an even deeper state of madness. The Chosen turned Hell into a battlefield. It's endless, dry planes had the yoke of strategic importance thrust upon them. The Home of the Worthless was suddenly invaluable to an unseen faction or two.
To the Goddess, this land is known as the N3, the Third Negative Dimension. The Souls claimed by those loyal the Goddess are damned to the depths of the N1 to live out the rest of their endless existences under the thumb of her heartless Inquisitors. Whilst the dogmatic followers of An'Lu'Munus see a city under the absolute, undefinable rule of the Goddess' Emerald Law as a virgin paradise, those who find themselves unwilling to comply or submit find themselves trapped beneath an iron fist.
Many submit to the law of the N3 out of an insurmountable fear of the horrors that lurk beyond the city's walls. In Mephsito's absence, new powers have risen to fill his vacuum. Beyond the city's walls, Chaos walks, and Chaos kills.
When the Goddess called for her righteous to expand the borders of her Timeless Realm, what pious followers could refuse? It was the Goddess' will; it wasn't their place to question it, only to see it done. Propelled by some twisted sense of manifest destiny, the forces of the Goddess' Crusaders have marched westward against the forces of Hell and their Leader, a creature who's name they dare not mutter.
At the head of this army stands a band of Inquisitor ready to repel all who defy the will of their Lady. Once rebellious and vain, the sinners were forgiven by their Emerald Queen. Their minds were 'fixed'. They were reborn in her grace, loyal, obedient, zealous and good.
But all of that is about to come to an end. Somewhere, out there, in the wild and wondrous multiverse, a knife as been plunged into the forehead of one of the Goddess' mortal hosts. The Emerald Empress is distracted. With her endless intellect drawn away from her war down bellow, its only natural that a soul or two might slip between her fingers.. Its only natural that a soul or two might be set fr---
[BOOM!!!]
Fire and brimstone shatter the ridge before you. Blood and soil splatter across your face. For the first time a century of timeless warfare, you find yourself flinching, hesitating. You cough. You wheeze. You wipe the dirt from your tongue as best you can. You turn to the Crusade to your right for support, for some extra ammunition. He doesn't respond. You turn him over. You barely recognize recognize him beneath the scars and shrapnel that stain his once oh so beautiful face. You let him go. His lip body slides down the hill. Another Crusader takes his place, throwing his shoulder against the bloody stain your comrade had once laid upon. He screams something in you general direction. You stare straight through him.
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"---! ----! ----!"
He grabs your shoulder. He's trying to shake some sense back into you. Your eyes are still glassy, still hollow. You can barely remember where you are, where you're fighting. Before you can ask the Crusader, another burst of fire shakes the battlefield. A bullet catches your brother in arms. His injury seems slight at first. He barely reacts. Not until its too late. His grip upon you weakens. He falls back into the dirt, his empty eyes pointing skyward, searching for a Goddess who never showed up. His lips flutter into a silent pray. A heart beat later, he's still.
One look in his eyes is all it takes. It all comes flooding back to you. All of it.
The War in the Arena. The War in Valla. You remember it all.
You remember your death. You remember your failure. Your damnation.
Weapon in hand, you march of the ridge. In the corner of your eye, you see some familiar faces. You see the Gods, alongside whom you had defended Atlantis, alongside whom you had died in Bison's arena. You see the Returned, alongside whom you had cheated death once before, alongside whom you rescued Flayn from the heart of the Empire, alongside whom you had fallen in Valla's Great Hall. They're senses are returning to them too. They're remembering who they are.
They're remembering who's side their on.
You're free from the Goddess' control. You're no longer her slave. You'll fight her war no longer.
The Legions of Hell stand before you. The Legions of the Goddess march behind you.
Alone you stand, trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea.
Fate has left you with naught but one option;
Fight.
The Chaos War has begun.
@Jeremi - Atlantiades
@Jeremi - Valkyrie
@Takumi - Silque
@Lucky - Beau
@Lucky - Shazam
@Capri - Jeff
****
__________________________________________________________________________________________
In the Land of the Living....
"Run!" Roy roared, half sprinting, half stumbling away from the clearing.
"Run!"
"We are!" Damian spat in response.
"We have been, and we are!"
Boots pounded against the underground. Hearts pounded. Lungs heaved. Despite its volume, the symphony of retreat could not drown out the ungodly screech of thousands upon thousands of distant wings. The Horde had already swept through the allies from another time sent to aid Mila. Their attention was now focused, completely, utterly, and unshakably, upon the surviving Gods. Under orders from Gill, Decapre had broken the arena, and with it, the game. Sprinting like a beast, the Doll blazed a purple trail through the woods, a trail which those left alive could follow. Towers of glass tumbled down from the arena's screen ceiling, striking the Gods' path like heaven-sent spears. It was as if Zeus himself had personally come to watch the last of them fall. Inches away from a skewering, the hand of Urien pushed his brother out of death's path with a frustrated grunt. As much as the thought detested him, Urien
needed him alive, at least for a little while longer. Despite the agony is brought him, it was this
need that provide Urien with an excuse for passivity. It was this excuse that kept him sane.
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"We need to find shelter!" Roy screamed.
"We need to escape the Glass! Escape the Demons!"
"If we wait for so much as a moment, the distance between the Doll and us will widen ever further than it already is!" Urien howled across his psychic wavelength.
"If we lose her trail, we're damned! She's our one shot at making it out of this infernal place alive!"
"And if we keep pushing, we'll be lucky if even one of us makes if out of this jungle without a spear of glass through their back!" The Archer wailed.
"We need to hide! We can't face the Demons again! We can't!" The confidence that had once inhabited the Archer's voice was gone. His voice cracked.
"Bison only releases the Demons when she's looking to purge the arena! When she's looking to purge it of us! We're not supposed to take them on! We're not supposed to fight them!"
"We're not supposed to blow a damn hole in the ceiling either!" Urien roared.
"Hell! We're not even supposed to be here! Damn Bison's rules! I shan't die on my knees! I shan't spend another night cowering in some filthy hole, waiting for the Sun, like a child afraid of the dark! Bison dies tonight! Bison dies tonight!!"
Hide. Run. Fight. The choice is yours
.
Bison dies tonight.
@Takumi @Yun Lee @Minerva @Capri
