Takumi
Member of the Yato Club
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.
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.
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 once 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
And so it finally begins.
Is this what Bison had expected? Had he known that leading the Society into his little game wouldn't end well, or had he hoped the brothers would be destroyed before then? Clearly, the man knew nothing of the bond of blood...which is why everything was now falling apart around them all. A volatile, broken Doll had been reborn from the ashes of her beloved sister...perhaps that, then, is Bison's weakness? Physicality is only half of a human being's power. The psyche, the mind and emotions, are factors one must never take out of consideration. Bison is just another on a long list of would-be conquerors that the world has seen and will see time and time again; it's this very balance that keeps the Society alive after every hopeful dictator stops breathing.
But for now, it was imperative to still the fears of their allies in this journey. Though leaving just Urien alive was a possibility, mankind can prove useful when push comes to shove. And push did come to shove quite literally as Urien "saved" Gill, though the Emperor had anticipated the glass on his own. But perhaps it would be best to let Urien feel a bit useful... "I thank you, Urien. Allow me to return the favor." As doon as he spoke, Gill materialized a thick shield of ice above their heads, one meant to protect them as they moved through the onslaught in pursuit of Decapre. "Fear not Bison's attacks. They only seem impossible to beat because we have made him afraid. Stay strong and persevere, and freedom will be within our reach by sunrise."
@Sark @Minerva @Takumi @Capri
What was a dragon goddess to do, when in a situation such as this? Mila didn't blink, didn't falter as she ran, straining her senses in the chaos to keep track of Decapre as well as their group all while keeping a steady pace. Her gaze darkened the longer they bickered. Tough choices all around, hm?
"I'd prefer if we tried to stay together." Mila spoke up, a bit dismayed at the whole situation. With the arena falling a part like it was, who could say what would happen to those left behind? For now, she ran, having every intent of seeing Bison's head roll.
Right now though, her main intent was ensuring that none of her own died, she's lost too many who followed under her name, the Earth Mother didn't plan on losing anymore children if she could help it.
@Sark @Minerva @Yun Lee @Capri @Arena
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.
And so it did.
Fire and brimstone dominated the battlefield just as the rule of Chaos - the absence of all rule - took the tortured landscape of Hell so long ago. A torrent of screams and agonized, wailing tones rose over the red horizon as if the land itself had come alive to welcome those who still slept - those who did not accept the truth. Hell would open her gates for the beautiful people to come in and take stock of all the sin they've yet to see done unto the world. However, such grand thoughts weren't at the forefront of their minds- of neither the innocent nor the corrupt. To take in the great weight of Hell meant focusing on the little things.
A roar of encouragement among the men who remained, and a rising pain in their lobes, as if someone was driving a stake into their heads. The ground convulsed beneath their steps as the forefront of the Goddess' forces clashed with the roused hordes of Hell. The landscape was one out of a nightmare - the air was scalding and filled with specks of fallen ash and brimstone, and the ground was blood-red in tone, rocky and uneven and formed into jagged spikes and cliffs that rose into the swirling chaotic sky over their heads. In the distance, one could see buildings - darkened Gothic spires of blackened stone standing stark against the red, as if they'd risen from the ground, which bubbled and seemed to warp each time one looked at it. At first, it was stone. Then, it was flesh-like walking on piles of bodies. Then, it was bone. Then, it was stone again.
The stake continued to dig into their minds. Yet, the men of the Goddess had their own breed of madness that couldn't be turned even if the land itself had come alive to pull them into the mire. So the battle lines naturally formed, and those few who'd managed to break free of the Goddess' control found themselves standing right at the tip of her spear into the forces of Hell, where distant shadows of what appeared to be people flung bullets and lasers in their general direction.
Valkyrie would be the first to see the face of just one of her many enemies - a bright lance of red light punches into the ground near her, as the indiscriminate fire from the darker side of the field fell upon her. A plume of red dust sprinkled the dirt around her, and was she to look; she'd see just one man among many.
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The forces of Hell were men or something shaped into the form of a man. They scavenged their armor and crude, pieced together from remnants of cloth and plating bolted to their forms like it was a part of their skin. Among some of the plating, a sigil of the Emerald Empire was clearly emblazoned in the steel, scratched, defiled, and carved over with the sigil of an eight-pointed star. The soldier that shot at Valkyrie didn't let up, joining at least a dozen more - hundreds, maybe thousands - in the horde that met the Goddess' forces just outside the premises of the distant spires that suggested a castle of some description.
A nearby explosion goes off, raining red dust over the Inquisitors. One of the "renegades" lunged at Valkyrie without so much as a battle cry, his crude gun fastened with a rusty bayonet. A wayward shot from someone behind her lodged into the man's gut, spilling out a torrent of blood into the soil as he collapsed near her, a muffled scream of pain forcing itself out of his mask.
Assuming she didn't move to finish him off, she could hear this one soldier over the chaos of the battle surrounding her. A quiet, muffled tittering noise rose into pained laughter.
"He- nnff-- hee-he he. He ha HA- HA."
The renegade let out a wet cough, rolling over and frantically clutching the underside of his mask before peeling it away, revealing a pallid grey mouth fixated into a bloody, full grin. He bit down, still laughing amidst the grunts and watery gurgles of the blood filling in his lips, his expression fixated on her. He was looking directly at Valkyrie - as if he was laughing at her. The man let his head fall to the ground as his laughter rose into a howling torrent of sound - a screaming cackle that soon spread to the rest of the renegade forces. Even as they continued to fire, and stab, and operate machinery, and die - they laughed.
The sound of fabric tearing open suddenly flooded the area directly in front of them. The punchline came in.
An untold number of gaping holes tore open the reality surrounding the battlefield, splitting open with a horrible sound and a baleful light that washed over the battlefield. The darkness that occupied these gateways was swiftly banished with flashing bursts of bolter fire. Goddessian soldiers began to scream and crumple in an instant as they realized what had just arrived. The Inquisitors saw the first victims - human bodies were suddenly blown apart like buildings in a hurricane, steaming remains of quivering flesh slumping to the ground as the bullets struck them. Hulking shadows gripped the edge of the portals with armored hands.
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The silent giants took no time to introduce themselves as the tide of the battle turned in an instant. How many had emerged wasn't immediately apparent. However, the Gods could see most of them immediately near them - as if they were carving a path through the Godess' army for one particular target. A Chaos Marine closest to the Inquisitors sank his chain-axe into the neck of a fleeing soldier, sawing into his shoulder until the screaming stopped. Then, tearing his blade free from the twitching, wide-eyed meat left at his boots, the armored giant lifted his head to Valkyrie - and the rest.
"HE SUMMONS YOU TO HIS COURT. GO."
The giant lifts his armored gauntlet, pointing to the tallest spire in the distance. Then, he turns away, lifting a pistol from his hip and hosing another contingent of fleeing soldiers with indiscriminate gunfire, as several more of the armored hulks appeared by his side, continuing their slaughter. With each passing second, it became more apparent that none of the giants had turned their weapons on the so-called "Inquisitors."
They were left with a choice.
@Jeremi @Takumi @Lucky @Capri @Sark
"..."
From unbearable pain, to finding herself in the middle of two opposing sides once she returned to her senses, Silque was no stranger to war. It felt as if she was pulled from one and thrown into another even if it was across multiple dimensions. She was tired of it. The Cleric watched the death and destruction around her with pursed lips, unsure of who their enemies were in this instance as she held her hands up, glowing and at the ready to cast a spell in an attempt to defend herself and those with her.
"?!"
A sound of confusion came from her at the arrival of the Chaos Marines, hands raising slightly in case she really needed to defend herself and their group from the new arrivals on the battlefield. With the Marine speaking to their group and pointing them to a spire she frowned. It'd probably be best to follow and stick with the group, so she followed after Atlantiades. This whole situation left a bitter taste in her mouth.
@Sark @Crunch @Jeremi @Lucky @Capri
