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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:06:27 GMT -6
Expeditious Exordium:
There was no placidity that lasted long in Myth. No armistice or ceasefire that ever lived for a consequential duration of time. For the only state of being that the continent authentically kenned was war. Swords and blood, daggers held behind backs and lies held behind closed tongues.
Myth was dominated by puissant beings, and an inundating portion of them were Gods. Mystical entities that bent and shaped and convoluted the world around them to their whim. Tranquil souls that forfended the land as well as sneering warmongers that ground their opposition into the dirt underneath their boot.
Mortal creatures, beasts and animals as well as humans, thrived in a meager subsistence underneath the rule of the Gods. They learned, over the millennia, to accept these happenings. Afterall, one could be irate at a tornado for eradicating his home, but could he fight the inclemency itself? No man can battle a blizzard with his fists, no man could slay a volcano with a steel blade. And so, the Gods were regarded as forces of nature. Mercurial beings that held sway over Myth. For in a way, they WERE the inclemencies and blizzards, the volcanoes and the forests.
Each God held within him or herself, not a soul, but a Sphere. A Sphere was the true source of a Deity's potency, verbally expressed to dictate their field of domain and their potency, as well as his/her personality. A goddess of the Forest was a benevolently soul residing within the halcyon clearings of the trees, while a Deity of Battle would be a terrifying God to ever face, always at home among the barren wasteland where Gods waged their wars.
And yet there was a force even more puissant. A force so omnipotent that even Gods reverenced and feared. The Royal.
There are many legends about Royals. Many myths and rumors that tell of antediluvian bloodlines, old Gods ascending to power by consummating rituals or consummating prophecies. And yet no one is authentically certain how they procured such staggering potency. They could swat customary gods away like gnats. They bent authenticity on a whim and could perform the greatest (or most terrible) of miracles. The Royals had taken it upon themselves to govern the Gods, keeping them in line and ruling over Myth without any paramount opposition.
Until recently.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:08:45 GMT -6
"-"I pronounce the King... dead." Jarod, keeper of the dead, called out. Some broke out in tears, others ignited and subsequently extinguished. "We all ken, of course, that the eldest son, Aldis, is now the incipient King." Verbalized a diminutive voice, Llian, truth-teller."
The anterior King of Myth had held ascendancy over the realm of Myth for countless centuries, never aging, never withering away as time chafed at the corners of his ocular perceivers and tugged at his limbs. In his time he bore two sons; the elder he designated Aldis, the younger he designated Traxis.
Aldis' Sphere was of Light. Proud and yet humble, he was the fan favorite of the two Royal Princes. His demeanor was what the Gods of Myth desired in a future King: reliable, kind and yet bold enough to confidently lead the denizens of Myth to an era of placidity that just might be sempiternal after all.
Traxis, bearing the Sphere of Tenebrosity, was certainly no Aldis. Whispers and rumors, venomous words and sharp tongues verbalizing his designation with disrelish were punctiliously uttered far away from the auditory perceivers of the Royal Sentinel and the Elites. Brash, insolent, selfish and arrogant, every negative adjective in esse probably applied to Traxis, with the exception of "impuissant". Traxis was just as vigorous as his older brother, in both sheer power and in personality. Royal ichor coursed through his immortal veins as surely as it did through Aldis.
And yet despite all this, the antediluvian laws of heirship proscribed him from becoming King; everyone kenned the rules; only the Eldest obtained the King's crown. And thus Aldis was bestowed the accolade of ruling Myth.
Traxis did not execrate his brother. "hate" would perpetually be too impuissant a word for the emotions that broiled inside Traxis' blackened heart, his Sphere silently brooding and waiting for an opportunity.
He did not have to wait long. Within months of Aldis' coronation the younger Royal apostatized his brother, capturing him with the avail of his Elites. (for it was verbally expressed that no amount of chicanery, no sheer advantage, would ever sanction a Royal to best another Royal alone)
An incipient regime was established on a substructure of trepidation and abhorrence under the rule of Traxis. And albeit some welcomed the vicissitude, mainly those who were virtually as mendacious or evil as Traxis himself, there were many gods who still held their old adhesion to Aldis. Through an elaborate plan, a minute handful of the Elites of Light amassed with the intention of liberating Aldis. Lorea, the Goddess of War, Nyko, the child God of Play, Axial, the God of Lightning, and Uxol, the spherical orb kenned as the Tether of Light, furtively orchestrated to rescue their King from confinement.
However, the task would not be as simple as breaking in and dragging the Royal of Light out of Night. Not only was Night a perilous realm beneath Myth that contained astronomical hordes of demonic creatures, but Aldis was being held in none other than the most secure prison in subsistence, the Chains of Sempiternity. This prison, not only notorious for being infeasible to enter or escape without sanction from Traxis, was in itself a Deity. Mak'Ruth was a sentient building that could not be broken into by any physical denotes.
So a trap was set. Uxol was utilized as allurement, sending out erroneous telepathic messages to all of the Gods that a revolt was taking shape. Approached in his chamber, the Tether of Light was taken by the Sentinels and placed in the Chains of Sempiternity. By maintaining a long-distance communication tether with Axial, Lorea and Nyko, Uxol prospered in collaborating with the captured Aldis, learning of any impotencies Mak'Ruth had, and relaying the information back to the Elites of Light. Lorea amassed a brobdingnagian army as Axial gained the fortification of any Gods allegiant to Aldis. Nyko set about causing as much chaos for Traxis' forces as possible, with booby traps, faulty equipment, swords that stabbed rearwards and aimed directly for the groin, tampering with telepathic communications, etc.
Through the amalgamated efforts of Lorea's assault on the fortress of Mak'Ruth, Axial's following of Aldian Gods, Nyko's antics and Uxol's spying, Aldis was eventually rescued from the Chains of Sempiternity after battling the maleficent armies of Zukra, the Traxian lieutenant who held ascendancy over the Sphere of Night itself, and the augmented monstrosities spawned by yet another living building kenned as Kinacha. The enigmatic being was infrequently visually perceived in combat, preferring to send its arachnid drones instead. Conclusively, Traxis' forces were pushed back and the way to Aldis was opened, at which point he was facilely extracted. The prison of Mak'Ruth sank into the ground after its defeat, not to be visually perceived again.
Aldis returned to his deserved position as King, and Traxis fled into obscurity. Aldis harbored no wishes of chasing after his brother, even after what he had done and albeit the threat remained. The Gods in support of Traxis had forsook Aldis, and some gods struck out on their own altogether.
Myth has become a battlefield. Countless skirmishes are commencing to break out, archaic powers arousing due to the conflict. It is only a matter of time afore a gamut war erupts, engulfing the continent in chaos and painting the land scarlet. Only one Royal can remain. There can be only one King.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:09:36 GMT -6
Night was an inhospitable realm of fire and hate. No plants grew in the rocky desolation and the only creatures to inhabit such a place were the hungry, vicious spawn of Night itself. Demons populated most of the wasteland underneath Myth. Some other, more potent beasts roamed, tearing apart demigods that approached. The only society that disputably took place in Night was the infrequent interaction between the Gods and minor gods that resided in the literal hellhole. There was virtually a sickening, warped version of order: creatures were eaten by more astronomically immense creatures, which in turn were devoured by massive behemoths (thank the heavens they were so infrequent; a fight between behemoths was utter carnage). The Gods that inhabited Night were all adherents of Traxis, precluding any other god from entering. Not like it was much of a tourist magnetization to commence with...
There were very few gods that Traxis entrusted with a home in Night. One such god was in fact on very good terms with the Dark Royal. This was due to his sphere: total command over the lesser denizens of Night itself. The demon lieutenant of Traxis held the highly valuable Sphere of Night. It was he, Zukra, who had forfended against the onslaught of Aldian forces and ultimately failed. And for that, Traxis was essentially grounding him.
Zukra, under orders from Traxis, was currently stuck in his massive palace in Night. This was a sufficient penalization because the God detested being confined indoors, misprized being stuck with the very demons he commanded. For you optically discern, his demons were not precisely the keenest souls to ever subsist.
"senpai!! Frank is cheating again and it's NOT FAIR! Make him stop please."
For indeed, the demon denominated Frank was in fact, glomming all of the poker chips with his forked tail.
"How about YOU make me stop, you unsightly red-faced fuck."
"We are essentially clones. We all look identically homely."
"Oh."
These fifteen seconds of unavailingly futile dialogue incessantly perturbed Zukra's noetic conceptions. Sitting upon his throne and rubbing his temple as he optically canvassed with disdain his minions playing poker on the cold marble floor of his throne room. "Traxis is authentically a cruel being to place me under house apprehend with these piteous cretins. I'd prefer being thrown into Chaos."
A minute shelled reptile reposing to the right of his throne looked up, its wrinkled neck elongating from underneath its shell. "None can even peer into Choas and survive. Only my senpai can."
"One day I'm going to stew you up and drink you straight from the shell. Like a SOUPBOWL, you auricularly discern me? You ungrateful turtle."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:10:17 GMT -6
A lone man leaned against the charred rock wall abaft him. The wall was a remnant of the recent battle. It smelled of smoke, smoldering steel and the blood of the all-too-familiar conflict that perpetually plagued Myth. The wall had been constructed only days afore as a makeshift fortification by the forces of Lorea as she carved a path through the demons. The wall had provided ephemeral shelter and blocked the incoming projectiles from archers and catapults.
The man was most likely a Deity, for no mere mortal man could traverse Night without the avail of an immortal by his side. He stood up, pushing himself off of the ruined wall. His long ebony robes billowed abaft him as though a nonexistent wind was picking them up and pulling them away. His emerald green ocular perceivers glinted with lassitude. He had fought hard in that battle. Cutting through the soldiers of Lorea with facileness, he had torn his way across the battlefield, all the way to where the Aldian Elite kenned as Axial had been fighting. In the ensuing skirmish, the Lightning God had sent a bolt straight through his armored shoulders, rendering his left arm useless for the remnant of the fight. Sure, it had recuperated after a few days' rest, but Legath had a newborn animosity for Axial, burning with hate every time his shoulder stung.
Legath turned in surprise as a soft whirring sound perturbed his noetic conceptions. To his right, an astronomically immense metallic engenderment of some sort was investigating the barren site of the anterior battle. A scarlet light was swathed over every inch of the ground, as though endeavoring to locate something of paramountcy. Whenever the light encountered a scrap of metal, the white-steel drone hovered over and elongated a diminutive prehensile claw which gingerly prehended the object in question and then recedes back into the hull of the machine.
The drone emitted an echoing warble of radio noise.
"Sounds wondrous. Scavenge consummate for today." A female--no. No, it didn't sound like a person at all. The voice was disjointed, uttering the words as though it(she?) was having trouble composing a cohesive sentence. And yet the words flowed smoothly, virtually calming to heedfully aurally perceive. A certain softness was in her unnatural voice. "Report back to the base as expeditiously as possible. And endeavor to stay out of trouble. It's such a bother having to send another drone to pick up your pieces."
Legath snorted with derision as the drone rose higher into the air and expedited away from the battlefield. "That cold unhelpful bitch again."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:10:48 GMT -6
The drone piloted its way over the cliffs and mountains afore entering a minute rocky hill, where an obnubilated ingress revealed a sizably voluminous cylindrical tunnel lined with high-vigor steel. Flying through the tunnel, the drone silently whirred as it arrived at its stop and rose into the room.
The facility was massive. Machines hustled to and fro as they went about their business, filing away information or maintaining the computers in placidity condition. Screens lined the walls of the chamber, displaying brightly colored maps and betokening where the most robotic personnel was currently required. The scavenger drone peregrinated along one of the designated paths afore one of the screens emitted the voice of its superior. "Authentically, could you come directly to my quarters? The path is being updated now."
As dotted lights lit up an incipient designated pathway, the drone headed for Echo's chamber.
Her room was minute, virtually cozy preserve for the sharp metallic instruments hanging from the ceiling, propped up in exhibit cases and reposing on workshop tables. Hologram projectors displaying half-consummated prototypes lined the room, exhibiting elaborate construction parameters and the requires resources. In the middle of the room, a minute blue light contained within the lower torso of a tenuous humanoid droid sat on a rotating chair. Her external form was simple and yet illimitably intricate, while her inner mechanisms were incomprehensibly intricate and advanced, as well as requiring extensive resources to reproduce or repair.
Because of this, Echo preferred utilizing Proxies. They looked virtually identical to her and sanctioned her to act out her will through them, but proxies lacked the true processing power of her pristine body and posed no threat to her overall condition if ravaged.
Her revolving chair swiveled as she turned to acknowledge the drone. She beckoned with her right hand, the detailed metallic fingernails as sharp as razors. "A good haul today, I'm sure. A battlefield full of discarded metal scraps. These will do nicely." A slot opened up adjacent to her chair and the drone responded by opening a slot in its hull, tossing the contents into the chute. "I cerebrate we virtually have enough for something special."
Echo stood up and ambulated leisurely over to one of the holograms, examining the schematic of a cube with inner workings virtually as intricate as her own. "We are going to kill everything," her soft emotionless voice verbalized as though she was discussing tea time. "That will be frolicsome."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:11:03 GMT -6
A sigh was pulled across the Quarterlands, the wind carrying the sound for several hundred feet. The air was brisk and the wind was algid and puissant, shivering the bones and chattering the teeth of any mortal. However, a mere breeze is no match for a Deity.
The man's cloak shuddered as the wind played with the cloth, tugging at the dark outfit and revealing minuscule concealed weapons: daggers, vials of dense liquid, and other diminutive and lethal-looking contrivances designed to cause an expeditious and painful death. The wind endeavored to pull at his hood, but the man kept it firmly on his head, obscuring his face from the light. In his other hand he played with a minute explosive, tossing it into the air afore catching it, perpetually. Despite his obnubilated countenances, one could tell he was bored. He needed something to fight, to strike fear into their hearts with the very mention of his denomination.
He did not realize, however, just how anon he would get his wish.
The ground shook. Pebbles and stones were flung about and dirt sprayed into the air. The air was no longer brisk; one could feel the temperature elevating ever so gradually. As though the earth itself was taking in a deep breath, the ground sucked inwards as the air funneled into the aperture in the ground. Cracks in the stony surface commenced to spread as the ground perpetuated to shake even harder
And then the earth erupted in a baptism of flame.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:11:20 GMT -6
Chunks of stone and magma rained down across the site. The air was heated to an uncomfortable temperature, scalding any mortals creatures nearby, which expeditiously scamered away in fright. An immensely colossal plume of lava flew forth from the underground chambers below, blazing high into the air and engendering a geyser of fiery might. More sections of the ground were rumbling at this point, causing the section of the Quarterlands to break asunder. Pieces of earth ruptured and fell into the chasm below.
From the reddened depths rose a terrifying embodiment of flame and wrath. It stood at least ten feet tall and growing, surging from the sea of molten rock below. Swirling masses of smoke curled around the being as it arched its back and stared into the welkin. It let loose a roar, the guttural cry reverberating through the ground and causing the earth to shake even more as the last bits of land destabilized and fell into the burning abyss. The being examined itself. It gazed at its form, marveling at itself and its puissance. Turning to the horizon, two burning ocular perceivers of smoldering coal peered across the Quarterlands, taking in anything of consequentiality. Its gaze ceased upon optically discerning the lone figure far below. The man was only remotely surprised to have witnessed this truculent development and was waiting for something especially concerning to occur.
"Tell me, puny one. What God rules the land of Myth in this day and age?" The fiery being verbalized with a crumbly, low voice of dissolving embers and hissing sparks.
"Puny one?" The cloaked figure smirked. "That is a first. Not even giant red beasts have called the Visually examining Ocular perceiver "puny". You ken not whom you verbalize with."
"Hmph. You'll find I am no mere beast," the molten being sneered down at the God. "Feel accoladed. You are the sole man to witness the grand renaissance of Embrax. An incipient era shall now commence. I asked you a question, whelp. I will not ask again."
"And that is just fine," Malyc grinned. "I did not orchestrate on answering it."
"I visually perceive this one wishes to die expeditiously. Very well." Embrax indolently swiped at the impudent God, but Malyc facilely jumped over the flaming limb.
"Someone's a little tired from years of slumber I visually perceive. Sluggish and groggy. Size and power are frivolous if you cannot control it."
"Do not LECTURE me, cretin. Anon you will be a steaming mess plastered against the ground." To prove his point, Embrax evoked an astronomically immense sphere of pristine flame, hoisted it into the air, and tossed it at Malyc's location.
Yawning, Malyc rolled to the side and stood back up, gesturing to Embrax with his hand, as if to verbally express come get some.
With an exasperated growl, Embrax charged.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:11:48 GMT -6
All life has an inception. All of engenderment would not be possible if the macrocosm had not composed precisely the way it should have.
Eons ago a prodigious cloud of energy swirled into being and mystically enchanted Myth with an indispensable gift. The source of Life, the source of Night. The giver of prosperity and death. All have emanate from it, and thus all shall return. The omnipresent guiding light. The beacon of light and heat.
Without the Sun, life on Myth would simply not be. The world would be a barren, freezing ball of sleet and tenebrosity. No animals would scamper across its lands, no plants would poke out from the fertile soil, no mortal men would subsist to perpetuate the cycle of life, and not even the Gods would be present.
And at this precise moment, the Sun had opted for. Glaring down with immense potency, the not-quite-sentient colossal entity kenned as Myth's Sun looked upon the world it had engendered, the life it sustained. It optically discerned all. It auricularly discerned all. It felt all.
And found it destitute.
To remedy this, the Sun opted for. It culled a candidate to bestow staggering potency, to fill with purport and might. The Sun filled the demigod with such power that his body seared and his flesh sang with pain. His ocular perceivers stared into the Sun above, burning with agony and comeliness. Pain and bliss.
It was done. He was a Deity. He held the Sphere of the Sun.
He observed himself. There was an unmistakable difference now. An aura of energy radiated uncontrollably from his form. Immediately the grass withered into ashes and the nearby pond evaporated in a hiss of steam. An overhead tree alighted. Flames leapt up and flickered across its branches. The blaze grew and jumped to another tree. The forest was becoming hell.
The incipiently engendered God was horrified. He could not control his own sphere! Fear crept into the corners of his mind. He silently imprecated. How could he let this transpire? He held his hand out, seeking to culminate the fire with an exertion of energy. The flames simply coughed and sputtered afore perpetuating just as intensely as afore.
"I can't stop it!" he cried. "I am no God. I do not deserve such a gift!" Staring into the Sun, he was maddened by despair. "I am unworthy! Reclaim your benediction. End my --"
"Tace et obmutesce.
Tace. Rem cognosces."
A soft feminine voice verbalized firmly against the roaring of the fire. The demigod turned to witness a woman step out of a secret doorway carved into the mountainface. Obnubilated by the blackened husks of the trees. She gradually stepped into view. A loose white gown fluttered around her body, swaying in the breeze of the now-dying fire. The trees were still damaged, but they would regrow eventually. The flames had been extinguished by the words that the woman had uttered. A book hung by her side, cradled in her left arm.
The Demigod-incipiently-become-God commenced to verbalize. "Who and how--"
The Goddess smiled and held a hand to her lips. "Everything shall be answered in time, Muran. Be patient, for Sapience is not simply given, it is earned." She beckoned to her mountain ingression. "Come."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:12:28 GMT -6
Embrax swung his claws at the jumping and ducking Malyc, unable to land a blow on him.
"Stay still. I'm endeavoring to CRUSH you!" the giant God of Fire cut down with his outstretched hand, slicing through the earth. Where his hand had struck the ground, lava was commencing to pour from the crevice. Malyc simply optically canvassed.
"Temper, temper. You won't get anywhere with moves like that. Sizably voluminous gawkish fellow you are, hm?" He taunted.
With another roar, Embrax burst forth from the ground and stepped out of the chasm, standing a full fifteen feet. His lower body was circumvented by smoke, giving his legs an immaterial look. His ocular perceivers smoldered with regalement.
"We'll optically discern just how far I get now, you puny imp. You dare taunt me?" With a stomp, Embrax brought his foot down on Malyc's location, steampressing the ground and turning the sandy ledge to superheated glass that glinted in the sunlight. Verbalizing of the sun, Embrax felt for a fleeting instant that the intensity of the sun had incremented, marginally, and just for a moment. However, this was of no concern. He had more engaging matters at the moment, such as ending the life of this insolent fool.
This insolent fool was now perched on the Fire God's back. taking out a silver dagger from his many rows of pockets, Malyc drove the minuscule sword into Embrax's back. More exasperated than hurt, Embrax convoluted around and threw the God off of his body. How the cloaked god was able to prehend his molten form without getting burned, Embrax was not sure. Even more puzzling was how his ploak had not even been singed.
"So the little one has many little surprises. That is good. I can be regaled whilst I culminate your life."
Malyc's grin had not faded. "You haven't a clue, Fire God."
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Ask not the Sun why she sets.
For every hero, every protagonist, there is the allegiant friend. The one with unquestioning trust and comradeship. The faithful sidekick, the caring brother who will always be there.
Why She shrouds her light away.
No matter what transpires, true amity is never gone. It fades and flickers, vanishes like a hushed flame. But the candle remains. It can still be relit.
Or why She obnubilates her glowing gaze
Sometimes, however, the candle is discarded. Discarded. People grow trepidacious of what would transpire if they lit it again. Better to cast it off, forsake the amity and wallow in dolefulness and solitude.
When night turns crimson gold to grey.
Apostasy. Lies. Ocular perceivers that can no longer meet the gaze of those whom were once friends, allies, family.
For silent falls the guilty Sun
It was his fault. It was always his fault and it still is. He relucted to mend the gap. He is the true apostate.
As day to dark does turn.
I ken his true nature. He is selfish. He cares no longer for me, for our past. He believes he is preponderant, superior, and that I am unworthy.
One simple truth she dare not verbalize
But I ken. I ken it all and I am certain. More certain than anything I have ever felt in my entire life.
Her light and only blind and burn.
I am the executioner, the bringer of equity. I will enact retribution.
No mercy for the guilty.
He has become a Deity? That is no matter. I have power as well. I was opted to establish holy change.
Bring down the lying Sun.
It is my desire. My purport. My fate. Nothing shall get in my way.
Blood so silver ebony by night
We shall visually perceive if an Immortal still feels pain, agony, guilt. He shall be penalized.
Upon their faces pale white.
I am opted for. I am a Deity. He is nothing. He is a heretic to be crushed. Our amity denotes nothing.
Cruel Moon, bring the cessation.The dawn will never elevate again.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:12:48 GMT -6
Muran climbed the winding spiral staircase, virtually tripping on the antediluvian stone steps in their state of decay. Moss grew on the walls, flourishing in the cracks etched into the marble. The Goddess was a flight ahead of him, gradually but steadily elevating up and up. There were no windows, and yet the staircase was lit by some unknown betokens. There weren't even any shadows. What kind of place was this, precisely? Muran was troubled but felt no immediate reason to distrust the Goddess.
She ceased upon reaching an old wooden door. Turning back to Muran, she smiled. "Thank you for lighting the way," she verbalized, afore grasping the knob and pushing the door open. That was when Muran realized; he was the source of the light. The cryptic power bathing the customarily pitch ebony staircase in effulgent light had authentically been him emitting an aura of potency. And yet he had not even descried? Some God I am, his phrenic conceptions turned acrid. Cannot even control my sphere.
"Fear not. That will come in time. This is all incipient to you, Sun God. It will take adjustment to achieve sapience and balance."
Muran was alarmed. "You can read cerebrations?" He asked in surprise.
astalia shook her head. "Your face reveals everything. Like an inordinately fascinating book." She nodded to herself. "Affirmative, like a book," she reiterated. Stepping into the threshold, she entered the room. Muran hastily stumbled in abaft her.
"Welcome to the library," astalia beamed.
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"senpai!!!! Frank just VICTUALED the chip! That's scarcely licit! Make him expectorate it back up!"
"Erroneous! 'victualed' implicatively insinuates that I utilized my mouth, when authentically I stuck it up my--"
"When I'm culminated with the both of you, you'll be expectorating up far worse than just a chip." Zukra's threat hung in the air, followed by silence. Neither of the demons dared to break the quiet of the throne room, persistently optically canvassing the ceiling or at the floor uncomfortably. And then Frank farted.
With a growl, Zukra leapt off of his throne and brandished his weapon, striding towards his minions as they cowered in fear and flatulence. Afore he could skewer Frank, a voice perforated the air of the chamber.
"As regaling as this is, I regret to cut the recreational time short." It was the voice of Traxis. "You are required in the palace. You'll have time to slaughter your demons later."
Zukra lowered the spear. "When I return, Frank..... this throne room better be precisely how I left it. If I so much as find a single shitstained poker chip just laying on the floor..." He did not have to consummate the admonishment. Frank got the message and nodded shakily.
-------------------
Traxis frowned. "I'm veraciously unsure as to why I keep him around. I should just kill the imbecile and take the sphere." He gradually shook his head. "But he's the only one with enough patience to abide those imbecilic demons."
The Dark Royal turned to face the three giant obsidian sundials latched onto the wall. Grim designs marked each one with indecipherable symbols. The sundials were arranged in a vertical line. The uppermost disc had been divided by symbols into three sections, the middle disc exhibited four, and the final one was undivided.
"Every God plays a component. Every sphere has its purport. Every death has its vindication." At the word "death", the dust coating the antediluvian stone tiles on the floor swirled and condensed as a scythe rose from the floor.....
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:13:46 GMT -6
"It's a pulchritudinous day!"
The light of morning poured into the Terrace, causing the Royal Palace to shimmer and the mountain plains to glisten with dew. A giddy God had jumped out of his window, perched on his roof.
Two other gods, identical to the first, leapt from the window to join him on top of their house. They gazed with glee out at the waking town.
"Affirmative, It's a rather nice day," one of them acceded lethargically.
"Another day in the Kindgom of Aldis!" Zunes proudly declared.
"A war draws near, to be impeccably clear," Funes points out.
"And the victor shall surely be Aldis!" Zunes sung.
"Traxis has his orchestrations. He is furtive and cruel," Funes replied.
"Surmising Aldis would be without the avail of his Fool!" Lunes assured Funes.
All three joined in musical composition.
"And despite everything, every last little thing, every single minute microscopic little thing that maaayyyyy........."
"Aldis shall acquire victory!" Zunes declared triumphantly.
"An ineluctably foreordained feat," muttered Funes.
"Aldis shall victoriously triumph!" Zunes cried a second time.
"Victory shall be saccharine!" Lunes proclaimed.
"He'll culminate this horrid war for Royaltyyyyyyyy...."
"I optate Traxis to fall!" Funes admitted.
"Well don't we all?"
"A Kingdom of placidity and benevolence!" Zunes envisioned.
"In lieu of "Aldis", it'll be "your highness"," Lunes pointed out.
"It's a glorious thing, to have a wondrous King, the prizes he'll bring......
O the musical compositions we'll sing!"
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The stalagmite rose high into the air, evanescent in the mist above Night, suspended in the cavernous space that dominated the realm. Beneath it, two masks were circling it in despair. One such mask was thoroughly white and plagued by apertures of insects that burrowed through it and composed a cloud with sheer quantity. The second mask had a smile that rotated into a frown (much akin to those Comedy/Tragedy masks visually perceived at performances).
The woebegone mask sighed.
"It's a terrible day."
"Oh, don't be that way," the insect-covered mask groaned.
"It's a terrible day for Traxis." the pessimistic mask responded.
"It's a doleful, woebegone defeat we sustained back there," the bugmask admitted.
"Such a major setback for Traxis!" The pessimist cried.
"What if our Lord authentically LOSES this war?" Morbus raised the question.
"A horrible notion, pursue it no more."
"Yet despite everything, every last little thing, every single minute microscopic little thing that maaaayyyyyyy........."
"Traxis will victoriously triumph!" Jorus verbally expressed it solemnly, not even switching to Optimism to verbally express it.
"Lower your voice!" Morbus chastized.
"Traxis will acquire victory!" Jorus accentuated for a second time.
"Does he even have a cull?" Morbus queried.
"He'll divest his brother of Royaltyyyyyyy......"
"He'll appease the Olds.
"The Ancients additionally."
"And who would have conjectured, in a million years?"
"That Aldis will be faced, and sempiternally disgraced!"
"And Traxis shall claim his rightful place........"
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astalia wondered leisurely over to one of the ornate shelves, gingerly pulling an astronomically immense book and carrying it over to the table in the center of the library. "Let's commence."
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Jorus peered at Morbus, the two masks hovering in front of each other. Jorus commenced verbalizing again.
"War is something Aldis can't do. He's complacent as a feline."
"You'd cerebrate his old life as a Prince might have edified him that....
...yes, it should have edified him that."
"Everything shall be impeccable," Morbus shouted with resolution.
"Everything shall be impeccable," Jorus joined his chant.
"IMPECCABLE! IMPECCABLE!"
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"And despite everything, every last little thing........" Zunes, Funes and Lunes sung in the morning light.
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"Every single minute microscopic little thing that maaaayyyyyyy......" The masks chanted with fervor.
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"ALDIS WILL ACQUIRE VICTORY!"
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"TRAXIS WILL VICTORIOUSLY TRIUMPH!"
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:14:21 GMT -6
As Zukra materialized into the presence of Traxis, the Dark Royal visually examined as the reaper rose from the floor. Ebony emaciated wings hung from Death's back. The scythe twirled in midair as though waiting for him to take it. Elongating a bony hand, he reached out and grasped it, when it promptly ceased moving on its own.
"The prisoners have been secured. Even now Mak'Ruth inhibits their potencies from breaching the walls." Death verbalized with disinterest, as if the matters he discussed were nonessential to him, or frivolous.
Traxis simply nodded with a grimace. "That makes three in total, so far?" He glanced back at the obsidian dials. "What of the fourth?"
Zukra verbalized up. "My demons have already discovered his recent emergence," he gasconaded. "He has wandered Myth for mere minutes."
Death looked unconvinced. "And what of the other a moiety? Have any of THEM been located? Or have you prospered in missing their presences just like those of the prisoners?"
Zukra tightened the prehension on his spear. "What does it matter? The prisoners are ours now."
Traxis reached out telepathically to the prison itself. "All goes well?"
If the structure could grin, it would have. "Of course. They are resisting, but doesn't everyone? They will be broken like the rest."
Traxis scowled. "I require them impeccably functional. Both physically AND emotionally. You'll have your fun once this is all over."
Mak'Ruth seemed gratified with that promise. "Very well."
Traxis turned back to Zukra. "Apprehend this fourth being. Vigilant the others if you encounter one of the Gods required for the second ceremony."
Traxis didn't require to integrate: if you fail, your head will mount your own spear.
Zukra wordlessly bowed and commenced to channel a teleportation.
Mak'Ruth returned his attention to his guests.
"Welcome to the Chains of Sempiternity," he cackled as Amanzi, Umoya and Ramikorn struggled against their restraints.
-------------------------
Exotic opened his ocular perceiver. Uxol brightened.
"They have set their orchestration into kineticism," The Ocular perceiver of the Soul admonished.
"The God of Night has been sent to apprehend the Fire Elemental," Uxol droned.
The members of the Inner Circle glanced nervously at the Elites of Light. Here in this council room they were supposed to be cutting off Traxis at every turn. But he had already prospered in capturing three of the Elementals. For what purport, nobody kenned. However they were convinced that it was imperative to obviate him from claiming all four under his control.
Aldis stood at the head of the astronomically immense table. "The course of action is pellucid; we must recruit or bulwark the last elemental. We must not hesitate. Axial, you must go alone. The other Elites, including Lorea, are too diligent accumulating support elsewhere."
Axial nodded. "But what of this "second a moiety"? Traxis conspicuously plans to capture more than just the Elementals. How can we bulwark them if we do not ken who or where they are, or even how many of them are out there?"
Aldis glanced back at Uxol and Exotis. "You two concentrate your efforts on determining anything you can. Location, number, identity.....anything."
Axial knelt and commenced to teleport to the Quarterlands.
"Caution advised," Exotis intoned. "It appears the Elemental is already fighting a Deity."
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Curiosity. Discombobulation. Vexation. Grief. Solitude.
Void. Dark. Nothing. Everything.
Light. Lights. Many.
Comeliness. Home. Tranquility.
Voices. Acquisitiveness. Puissance.
Fire. Rock. Slumber.
Aroused. Soft. Effulgent.
Land. Empyrean. Myth.
Visually perceive. Feel. Ambulate.
Consume. Devour. Learn.
Eight. Eight. Eight.
Weave. Remain. Ascend.
The meteor split open. The Stars ambulated forth.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:16:09 GMT -6
Blood of the Royals Part 2: Eve
Malyc grunted as he jumped to the side once again to eschew the massive limb of Embrax bearing down. Slamming into the earth, the fiery hand clawed its way through dirt and angrily threw it to the side. "The most minute of mice can elude eradication. That does not mean they victoriously triumph!" Embrax held his hands in the air and commenced to concentrate. A lethal nova of flame commenced to compose above his head—
The ball of puissance was extinguished. Both Embrax and Malyc were jolted in suprise and turned. A thick scent of ozone had filled the air. An effulgent light erupted from several yards away. In it could be optically discerned a kneeling figure, circumvented by coursing electricity that sent off wild Sparks and crackled with energy. Standing up, Axial optically canvassed Embrax, then Malyc, then back to the FireBorn. "Aldis requests your presence. We mean no ill intent and seek to renovate your counterparts to liberty. Ignore the other God and come with me."
Embrax relaxed his position and sat back, musing. "How comically nebulous. Fifteen seconds and a mere three sentences was supposed to convince me to dash off with a cryptic little stranger? How about after I squash this pest into the rocks, I'll—"
"Pest? That's all you have to verbalize about me?" Malyc crossed his arms. "I'm fairly certain I was winning that fight. You hadn't even laid an immensely colossal, maladroit hand on me."
"I could fry you to a cinder."
"I'd dote to visually perceive you endeavor. Oh wait. You've been endeavoring for the last seven minutes."
Axial raised his voice. "You can preserve your little skirmish for later. We must move before—"
"Afore what, Second Elite?" Zukra twirled his spear in one hand. "I'd verbally express that 'later' just became 'now'."
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"Axial has already met Traxian resistance." Exotis' single ocular perceiver squinted. "The being anteriorly engaged in combat with the Fire Elemental is presumably a neutral entity but is possibly Traxian as well."
Uxol was fixated on other is paramount. "Aldis.Astrals have awoken."
Aldis leaned more proximate. "We cannot waste any time. What can you sense?"
The Tether of Light dimmed momentarily. "One currently resides in the Sanctuary of Sapience. A second is currently reposing in a remote corner of the Quarterlands. And another—" Uxol hesitated.
"Another is already peregrinating to the Sanctuary at astounding horizontal velocity."
astalia gently skimmed the contents of the archaic book, glancing momentarily at several pages wistfully. The book was filled with passages scrawled in a language that Muran could not understand, and dotted with cryptic symbols and images. Some of the images depicted wars, assassinations, and tragedy, while others showed two potent gods joining hands.
astalia expeditiously blinked and opened up to a different page. "Here," she verbalized. "This may shed some light, so-to-verbalize."
Muran glanced at the passage. Again, it was in a language he could not interpret. He shook his head. "Those letters emanate from some other time."
Now it was astalia's turn to shake her head. "No, these letters are sempiternal. The language is sacred. Any God can read them if they concentrate."
Still skeptical, Muran looked back at the book. The letters virtually seemed to shimmer and glide along the page, exhibiting him pictures rather than telling him. He could not read them, but he understood that wasn't the point; the Goddess was right, the letters were perpetual because they conveyed emotion and soul. And so he felt:
In the commencement there was nothing. Less than nothing, for even nothing suggests vacuousness or vacancy, like a bare room. But in the commencement there was no room. In the commencement, there was not. It was a bleakness so deep and encompassing that one could call it a being.
The being looked upon its own nothingness and was displeased. Dissatisfied. Bored. It wanted SOMETHING. Something at all. And so it engendered everything.
The deafening quiet of Nothing was obliterated by Everything. Galaxies were engendered and subsequently extirpated. The kenned realm of esse was a terrifying commix of anything imaginable and even some of the unimaginable. There were no laws of physics or any semblance of order: any life that managed to compose was crushed by its own power within milliseconds.
The being was just as dissatisfied with Everything as it was with Nothing. A conclusion was come to; Everything provided chance, originality, engenderment and purport. Nothing was the source of order, entropy, illimitable cycles and silence. Only with both could subsistence thrive.
So it set out fine-tuning this torn world. The Nothing was integrated back and balanced against Everything. Order was sanctioned to reign alongside Disorder. But where would this Order emanate from? Where would Disorder be procured?
The being pooled Nothing into a single realm from which his most incipient engenderment could draw on. The source of Nothing, the End, the Entropy. The Void was born.
The being pooled Everything into a wild realm of its own, from which his most incipient engenderment could additionally draw on. The source of Everything, Engenderment and Ravagement, the Wild, the Energy. The Chaos was born.
In this incipient macrocosm of both order and disorder, child of Void and Chaos, heir to Nothing and Everything, the being kenned as Myth was content.
Muran shuddered and leaned away from the book. His palms were sweaty. astalia only nodded gravely. "It takes practice to be able to hold out against the onslaught of the letters. That particular legend has been kenned to incinerate the spheres of several minor gods when they laid ocular perceivers upon it."
astalia turned to a different page. "Perhaps some lighter reading now."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:16:28 GMT -6
Legath clutched his blade and exhaled sharply. Axial was there fighting, he could sense it. Afore he could get any conceptions, the voice of Traxis breached his mind. "No. That is the Demonsenpai's fight. I have something special in mind for you."
Legath hesitated indigantly, still clutching his blade and prepared to teleport right into the fray. "A special errand, just for me? Only the fifth special errand this week."
"Watch your tongue afore you bite it off." Traxis' voice gained a stern edge to it. "This is consequential. You are acclimated with the Sanctuary of Sapience, I take it."
Legath's ocular perceivers narrowed. "Of course."
"Two beings of interest are there, and are about to ravage each other. Retrieve the Sun and Moon. Preferably in one piece."
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Traxis traced a hand over the obsidian dial, over the three glowing runes of blue, white and green. The final rune, shaped like the flame of a candle, remained dark. "Like puppets," he breathed, turning his ocular perceivers to face the second dial, where the three symbols of a sphere, crescent and five-pointed star sat inert.
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Muran commenced reading an incipient story.
In this incipient world of order and disorder, only the simplest of life had taken place. Rudimentary engenderments of single cells, plants and simple grazing beasts populated the continent of paradise, designated after the being kenned as Myth. Myth was gratified with his engenderment, his melding of Void and Chaos to engender something pulchritudinous, something lasting.
And yet he longed for something more.
He wished to optically discern the land transmuted, not by his own hand, but by the hand of others. To visually perceive his own engenderment become an engenderer, that was Myth's zealousness and dream. But he kenned not how to make this be. He endeavored many times.
His first endeavor was ghastly. Colossal, hideous beasts that ravaged the land and fought one another, they threatened to tear the continent asunder. They were scrapped, labeled a failed project, and ostracized to Chaos, where they more or less were just as content.
His second endeavor was delectating. Affirmative, they were immensely colossal, but they understood Order and Disorder. The Ancients could be trusted to establish change and be engenderers. Their potency could sculpt the land and indite history.
And yet they those not to. The Ancients reveled in their potency, basking in it. They sought to transmute nothing, to keep their perpetual domain and sanction nothing that they disdained to ever subsist. They eliminated chance and opportunity and froze the world in a cold tyranny. Myth sought to ostracize them to the Void.
But they had grown too vigorous. They clinged to Myth like a disembodied hand, their nails digging into the soil and the muscles stiffening, relucting to let go even after their era had the right to culminate.
So Myth endeavored one last time. An engenderment that was additionally an engenderer, and yet apperceived the paramountcy of both Order and Disorder, capable of imperfections and capable of resplendency. Seven Spheres of puissance that could manipulate the world of Myth and establish tradition as well as change, cessations as well as commencements.
The great beings of Fire, Dihydrogen monoxide, Earth and Air held a deep connection to Myth and utilized their puissance and erudition to sentence the Ancients to the Void.
The abstruse harbingers of the Astral bound the Ancients in their incipient domain. The Sun gave life and ecstasy to the continent. The Moon bestowed wonder and comeliness. The enigmatic Stars, however, sacrificed much more. The billions and billions of stars were required to seal the Archaic's prison, sending down their avatars to weave a seal vigorous enough in order to lock away the Ancients of good. The weavers, of course, could never return from the Void. The energy of their lives was required to bind the prison perpetually, crushing their bodies to atoms.
And so the Stars became dormant. To grieve, the Sun and Moon payed their venerations by going into dormancy as well. The Elementals followed. The Seven left the world of Myth as the being himself engendered more Spheres, letting them prosper and engender, despair and relish this hard-fought world.
Until recently.
Muran was thrown from his seat against astalia. They plummeted into the lower floor of the Library as an explosion rocked the structure. Chunks of marble debris had commenced to tear from the wall as the Sanctuary collapsed from the assailment. astalia endeavored to hoist herself but fell with a groan onto her back. Muran staggered to his feet, shaken but mostly unharmed.
Kneeling in the center of the room, with ocular perceivers narrowed at Muran, a long figure gradually rose from his position and unsheathed an immensely colossal crescent blade.
"Hello," Riasond breathed. "Brother."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:16:40 GMT -6
Axial frowned with disdain at the Night God. He had been expecting resistance, of course, but he was none too agog to face one of Traxis's higher-ups so anon.
"What, has Traxis run out of pawns to throw at us and do his dirty work? He's resorted to utilizing the more astronomically immense pieces on his chessboard?"
Zukra ceased swirling his spear idly in his hand. "I'm flattered. I'm additionally required to slit your throat when this is over and done with. As much as I dote taunting each other and sitting around accomplishing nothing...." Without culminating his noetic conception, Zukra initiated with a downward thrust of his spear as he charged at Axial.
Axial had ample time to dodge the assailment, but it was conspicuous Zukra was simply warming up. The Lightning God expeditiously pulled his blade from its sheath as the Night God brought down his spear once again. Axial lunged directly to the side and drove his sword into Zukra's side. Expecting an exclamation of pain, Axial jumped into a standing position to find that the wound he had inflicted was not, in fact, on Zukra. What stood afore him was a very perplexed, very irate demon clutching its side. "What?" Axial immediately looked around. He was positive Zukra had not ben limber enough to dodge that attack, and he limpidly hit something. So how had he been superseded by this nonessential minion?
He expeditiously dispatched the demon and turned to face another demon elevating from a minuscule portal in the ground. Sneering, Axial strode forward to culminate another life. "Obnubilating behind meat. How very Traxian, you cowa-"
The demon's form shifted, grew more pronounced, and spawned Zukra's spear in its hand. Axial and the demon connected their weapons, locking them together as they pushed against each other. The demon had plenarily shapeshifted into Zukra. Discombobulated but unfazed, Axial verbalized through gritted teeth, struggling to liberate his weapon. "Edify me your little artifice, Demon."
Zukra smiled. "The demons are, to an extent, me. I can possess the body of any one of them whenever I optate. Whether it is simply to eschew attacks or trick my opponents--I can be anywhere. You should optically discern me in Night, little cloud god."
At that last denomination, Axial snorted and shoved Zukra away from him afore swinging again. Axial prospered in landing another blow--on a demon, of course. Grunting in frustration, Axial turned to visually perceive another demon elevate from another portal only yards away. Cerebrating rapidly, he tossed his blade, which spun through the air and crackled with electricity, transfixing itself directly in the demon's chest.
"Fool," the demon expectorated afore it crumpled to the ground.
Axial wildly spun around, his ocular perceivers darting to the Elemental, to Malyc, and back to the ground. "Show yourself. Enough running! I can kill a hundred of your auxiliaries if I must, and I would not be any more proximate to to vanquishment."
"That can be arranged."
Scores of more minuscule creatures clawed their way out of incipiently composed portals, all jostling for a chance to sink teeth into divine flesh.
"Oh, for fuck's-." "I don't have time for this." Axial swung his sword above his head, not unlike you often optically discern a certain Norse God doing, and evoked a blast from the firmament and directing it at the portals. The surge of puissance sent charred demon corpses sprawling in every direction. "What was that supposed to be? Your demons are impuissant and useless, Zukra."
"Impotent? But you optically discern, they make the most excellent of diversions."
Axial's ocular perceivers widened. "What?" facilely keeping the alarm out of his voice, he turned to visually examine where Embrax remained. A horde of demons had circumvented the Fire Elemental. Every dozen he incinerated, two dozen took their place. Eventually, an obsidian dagger was pulled from an obnubilated sheathe and driven into Embrax's back. Despite the meager size of the weapon, the giant God howled, scraping away six more demons climbing up his arms. A portal sizably voluminous enough for Embrax to fit into was in the process of composing above him.
Axial turned again just in time to feel the spear perforate his shoulder underneath his collarbone. Shrugging off the pain, he turned further to face Zukra.
But conspicuously he could not shrug off the axe in his neck.
Axial stumbled to the ground, pullnig the spear out but expeditiously losing vigor. His arms flopped helplessly as his neck was swathed in sultry blood gushing from the cut. Already Zukra's Night aura made the wound fester and fill with necrosis, the flesh turning green and ebony.
Zukra bent close and whisperedas he knelt in juxtaposition of Axial's spasmodic body, pulling out the axe;
"What did I admonish you about getting diverted?"
Standing up, he optically canvassed as Embrax was driven insensate by the Binding Blade. "And now, Lightning God," he verbalized, not bothering to obnubilate the regalement in his voice, "Those "useless" demons are in fact "useless and HUNGRY" demons. As you are about to discover."
The horde advanced down the hill towards Axial's position.
Zukra channeled a teleportation simultaneously with the portal swallowing Embrax.
"Not to mention; they relish playing with their aliment first."
The Night God vanished from Axial's fading vision as the first wave of demons commenced their repast.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:17:12 GMT -6
Riasond traced a finger along the engravings of his crescent blade. "It's quite comical, isn't it." he verbalized gradually, conspicuously relishing the moment, reveling in what will ensue. "Intoxicating, virtually. This potency. It opened my ocular perceivers to the possibilities...and to a conclusion."
Muran availed astalia to her feet and glared at Riasond. "What is your purport? I have no reason to fight you. Not here, of all places. Please understand--"
Riasond's laugh was long and travestying, echoing throughout the ruined chamber and evanescent through the shattered walls. "Obnubilating away with your nasal perceiver in a book, desperately endeavoring to deduce how to control yourself? It's incredible, how the tales have turned." Riasond took a single step forward. "You were always the superior child, weren't you."
"Do NOT start this again!" Muran shouted. "I've always valued you as a brother. So did anyone else! No-one ever cerebrated of you as inferior, certainly not me."
Amother travestying laugh. "Are you lying or just incoherent? They loathed me. They adored you. But all is well. For I have edified them their mistakes and forgiven them. Their edifications shall never be forgotten; certainly not by the people who had to emaculate the mess up afterwards."
The Sun God clenched his fist. "You....you--?"
"AFFIRMATIVE! I did. Don't look so shocked. You're an immensely colossal boy, Muran, you can handle living without Dearest Mommy and Daddy. They're in a better place. As well as the rest of the village."
Muran was speechless. Whether it was the news he was receiving or the ill effects of reading the sacred scripture, his stomach churned.
Riasond commenced to kneel. "I shall send you both now; I shall send them all to a better place."
And with that, he charged in a pale rush of light, hurtling towards Muran and astalia.
Riasond pellucidly had not anticipated the sentinel of a blade to strike him in the forehead and send him careening over Muran and into the antithesis wall, where he recuperated to glower at the outlandish newcomer.
"Good to visually perceive you're both still in one piece," Legath smiled. "Now, if you'll only come with-"
"Intriguing."
The voice entered the minds of all four deities, probing and invading their consciousness.
"Your emotions and phrenic conceptions. Your vexation and conflict. It intrigues me.."
astalia visibly grew pale. "Now, of all times? Please, no..."
"Lamentably, you have just defiled a place of cognizance. Sacrilege. You have mindlessly wasted the most potent resource in subsistence. You, Sun. You seek this resource, within this Library."
"As do I."
A green beam of energy tore through the wall, blasting Legath off his feet and sending him sprawling underneath a pile of rubble. Where Legath had stood, a green fire now blazed, gradually spreading across the floor. There was no fuel for the fire to aliment on, and yet it grew immensely colossal and more astronomically immense, consuming the papers and strewn books. Whenever a book was engulfed by flames, the ashes rose into the air through an aperture in the ceiling. Muran looked up and looked upon the being responsible.
A massive floating structure loomed over the mountain, doors opened to receive the levitating remains of books and scrolls, maps and posters that flowed into the threshold like a back aperture sucking in the remains of a dying star. Braziers of green fire lined the building, giving the impression of countless flickering ocular perceivers against the blackness of the welkin, shrouding the moon and stars from view. The entire structure moaned and shuddered like an old pirate ship rocking in the breeze. Kineticism could be visually perceived behind its windows; flickers of more greenish light.
The green fire perpetuated to spread, cutting off escape and choking the demolished Library with smoke and flame. Debris perpetuated to rain down, threatening to bring the entire chamber down and crushing them all.
"I humbly thank you for your..contributions."
The Keeper commenced to increment his accumulation.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:22:18 GMT -6
Traxis had just been contemplating utilizing Zukra's disembodied head as a urinal when the Night God himself arrived back in the palace with a grin on his face.
"I take it you prospered?" Traxis asked with a allusion of jejunity in order to conceal his surprise. Veraciously he had postulated Axial would minimize work of him. Would've made matters much more facile, to be frank.
"Of course, my Lord. The Lightning God is dead and the Fire Elemental has been chained up along with the others. Even now, all four struggle to elude the prison of Mak'Ruth."
Death stood idly in the corner, persistently optically canvassing the ground. "She has not awoken yet."
Zukra and Jorus exchanged glances. They had not been apprised of this 'she'. "You mean Echo? That chunk of junkyard scrap is integral to our orchestrations?" Jorus laughed.
His cachinnation was cut short by the disintegrated mask flying through the air and shattering against the the antithesis wall of the chamber, the fragments clanking to the floor. Jorus's dying frown froze in dismay as the soul and sphere evaporated into the air.
Zukra immediately swallowed his cry of alarm. Death gradually looked upward when he auricularly discerned the clanging of the mask hit the floor. Traxis lowered his outstretched hand, the energy within his palm beginning to fade.
"Let me make this very pellucid:" the Royal verbalized in a hushed whisper.
"This is not our orchestration. It is MY plan. None of it belongs to you, or anyone else preposterous enough to suggest such a thing."
Zukra nodded. Death merely visually examined. If the Reaper could smile, he would have.
"The first stage is consummate and has been done so with relative facileness. The next step involves the Astrals. But things have gotten messy. Legath has encountered resistance from both the Librarian and the Keeper of Monstrosities. It is highly probable the Sun and Moon will fall to Aldis's hands, or worse; to a third, neutral party, perplexing this whole ordeal. If Legath returns empty-handed, he will join the mask."
"And as for you," Zukra winced as Traxis pointed his still-glowing hand at his chest. "Consult the Tendril, then Echo. Let them ken I will not abide shortcoming. There will be no second chances. Least of all for that shadowy slimeball."
Zukra bowed. "Then we shall not fail you, my Lord. Ou-" he virtually choked. "Your orchestration shall experience no further shortcomings. You have our word."
"Then be off." Traxis turned towards Death as Zukra channeled a teleportation to pay a visit to Echo.
"How anon until she is revived?"
Death turned back to face the floor as though mourning. "A few hours, at the least. She is more vigorous now. The duel will be arduous."
"I am counting on you. One slip-up and you can forget the deal. She is vital for all of this to work."
Traxis turned towards the obsidian dials. "Pun intended."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:22:47 GMT -6
Muran and Riasond dueled within the flaming confines of the eradicated Library. Riasond was like an animal; hacking and slashing wildly, with ardency or with bloodlust it was hard to tell. Muran was doing his best to parry and counterstrike when an opportunity presented itself, but he could feel he could not keep up. Why? he wondered. Why does my Godstrength not avail me?
"Because you lack conviction,' Riasond snarled, ostensibly reading his mind. "You haven't the heart to kill me. And if you'll give me a few more minutes, you won't even have a heart, additionally!"
Another green laser barreled through the structure, causing everything to shake. The mountainside Library was in consummate shambles. The dust from the books had ceased to flow up into Kinacha, whom now waited silently above, hovering in front of the burning ruins. Was he spectating or simply diligent with some other noetic task? It was infeasible to tell.
Riasond pushed Muran to the ground, sauntering over and raising his blade high into the air. Swinging it like an axe, he plunged it through Muran's neck. Or so he would have, if it had not been intercepted by an armored hand emerging from a pile of rubble and wrenching it from Riasond's grasp. The Moon God reeled back in surprise as he regained grip on his weapon. The pile of rubble exploded into smithereens as tenebrous energy snaked outwards and dispelled the pieces of marble.
Legath picked up his sword and pointed it at Riasond. Grinning with triumph, he commenced, "As I was verbally expressing-"
A book slammed him over the head and knocked him out cold. astalia, clutching the book in her hands, inspected his insensate form and smiled, afore another barrage of green light sent her tumbling out of the building and out of visual perception.
Muran's nostrils flared. "NO!"
Riasond grimaced as the light assaulted his ocular perceivers. Hoisting a hand to cover his face, he was extemporaneous for the shield to bash him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground and sliding across the ruined floor.
The Sun God radiated a golden light as he hefted the ornate shield. The shield was swathed with energy and covered in sunlike symbols and designs. He shook away his shock expeditiously enough to recollect astalia. Leaping from the building (the shield was remarkably lightweight for its size and density), he fell from the mountainside just as an explosion of green fire struck him square in the back. Gasping in surprise, Muran fumbled through the air as the ground raced up to meet him.
His vision went ebony.
---------------
Uxol and Exotis were solitary in the Circle's meeting chamber. The rest of the Elites had filed out of the room via teleportation or by simply ambulating, leaving the two eccentrically kindred spheres of light to their business scoping out potential information or threats. They verbalized in expeditious concise sentences, just enough to relay what was compulsory.
"Energies consistant with that of the Sun, Fire, and Moon are currently unlocated." Uxol reported.
"Sun and Moon suspected of being detained by Verboten Erudition." Exotis replied.
"Sapience was briefly revealed. Now missing. Shadows has disppeared from detection as well; surmised dead." Uxol perpetuated.
"Traxis has every Elemental."
"If Traxis procures Verboten Cognizance he will gain two Astrals."
"Current location of third Astral: Idle in Quarterlands."
"Recommended course is to detain third Astral."
"Let us depart."
And so they did.
-----------------------------
Muran's ocular perceivers flickered open. The tenebrosity was overbearing. He could remotely visually perceive his fingers when he stretched them in front of his face.
And then he fell from the floor and struck the ground below. He auricularly discerned a crack and prayed it wasn't his skull.
Blackness swept over once again.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:24:34 GMT -6
Zukra scowled as the automated drones welcomed him into the facility. The network reached astronomical depths underground, spiraling miles below the surface of Myth and stretching on and on. It was quite possible that Echo's facilities reached underneath a majority of the continent and beyond. Drones ambulated, rolled or flew this was and that conveying goods, conducting maintenance, experimenting, scrubbing the walls with steel-haired toothbrushes, incinerating trash and woodland animals ill-starred enough to have wandered in, containing time paradoxes, etc. It was like stumbling across a gargantuan beehive: millions of workers all carrying out their categorical assigned obligations to ascertain efficiency and injuctively authorize. And of course, all commanded by the engenderer, the queen bee.
Verbalizing of which, Zukra would anon find himself being propelled forward by a conveyor belt into the abode of the Technology Goddess.
She didn't require to turn and face him; she kenned by the DNA sample that had been pulled from him milliseconds after he entered the facility who this was.
"A congenial surprise. I am infrequently greeted in my workshop. I marginally receive visitors. Mostly it's just me..and my children..and the minuscule forest creatures that I test on. They make the most charmingly resplendent little beady ocular perceivers as they are vivisected."
Zukra surpressed a perplexed look. His ocular perceivers had glazed over from all the machinery that he couldn't comprehend. Zukra was the type of God who wouldn't be able to steer a boat, so the concepts of conveyor belts, miniature ebony apertures and soap greatly alluded him.
"Affirmative, sure. Whatever. Just keep your freaky little toys away from me and this will go smoothly. I'm sure you're wondering why I'm h-"
"To pick up the Nexus."
Zukra blinked. He, personally, did not genuinely ken why he was here, and was in fact asking Echo. "The, um, next what?"
Echo giggled, a sound like a metallic woodchipper leaving her vocal processors. The Night God couldn't avail but wince at such a rigorous noise.
"The Neuro-empathetic Xenograph Ultrasonic."
The demonlord squinted. "Whut?"
Echo spun around, her upper torso swiveling to face Zukra but her lower body remaining seated. "The Cube, you primitive. It's by the macrocosm simulator." Without bothering to ascertain he found it, she turned back to her work. "Ascertain not to damage, press, pull or turn infelicitous buttons, levers or dials respectively, expose it to an inordinate amount of light, or tenebrosity for that matter, drop it, put it in your mouth, victual it an extravagant amount of Godly energy, relinquish the nexusmatter inside it, breathe on it, scratch the chrome paint, or utilize it as a doorstop."
"Or else what?"
"Or I die. My life force is connected to it. Have fun with that responsibility."
Zukra rolled his ocular perceivers and commenced to teleport to the Tendril.
---------
Echo turned back to her work. "Resume Tribulation 43; Experiment of Determining Effect of Blunt Physical Trauma on Mortal mortal with veneration to Intensity of Force. Revise hypothesis: Maximum safe force while maintaining consciousness of subject through adrenaline is 357.14 newtons applied to right side of skull."
The steel wrecking ball splattered bone tissue and skull across the room. The scream echoed out, followed by crying, then hushed whimpering and gurgling.
Echo smiled and placed a finger on her face where a patch of blood had landed on her. "Revise hypothesis to 358.14 newtons."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:24:52 GMT -6
'Twas the night afore Mythmas, And all through the pad,
Not a Deity was stirring, Not even Drago's dad.
The stocking were hung by the Palace with care,
In the hopes that St. Mytholas would anon be there.
The Gods were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of more spheres danced in their heads.
And Traxis and I, after culminating a rap,
Had laid down to repose for a pre-war nap.
When out in the Terrace there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to visually perceive what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Ruptured the shutters and threw up the sash.
The Moon on the breast of the incipient-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering ocular perceivers did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight minuscule Myth-deer,
With a little old driver so effervescent was with,
I kenned in a moment he must be St. Myth.
More rapid than Quikk his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Deli! now, Death! now Drago and Vraxx!
On, Kasastor! on, Clo! on, Dominick and Bash!
To the top of the Palace! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As leaves that afore the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstruction, mount to the firmament;
So up to the Palace-top the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of spheres, and St. Mytholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, I aurally perceived on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Mytholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his habiliments were all tarnished with blood and soot;
A bundle of spheres he had flung on his back,
And he looked homogeneous to a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nasal perceiver like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a BALLOOON full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I optically discerned him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his ocular perceiver and a convolution of his sphere
Anon gave me to ken I had nothing to fear;
He verbalized not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nasal perceiver,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they channeled like the down of a thistle.
But I auricularly discerned him exclaim, ere teleported out of sight—
“Happy Mythmas to all, and to all a good Night!”
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:25:31 GMT -6
Aldis turned in surprise to visually perceive his two favorite floating spherical gods appear in his outer sanctum, depositing a dead Tol unceremoniously on the floor.
Aldis's ocular perceivers widened.
"That was expeditious..." Aldis checked his time exhibiter to find that only 7 minutes had passed. "Good job killing the Third Astral afore things got out of hand. Imagine if he was the last Astral alive, and ended up getting the three Astral Spheres! I mean, what kinds of cretins would just let him get all three? Fantastic work, but I'm trepidacious the other two Astrals are still unable to be located."
Uxol and Exotis nodded. "All three Astral spheres.....what a disaster THAT could have been."
--------------------
Zukra stood up from his kneeling position as the teleportation culminated channeling. As exasperating as the Goddess of Technology was, he was certainly in no rush to have a conversation with the Tendril. Glancing at the whatever-it's-called cube in his arms, he tossed it into a minuscule portal of his own engenderment, depositing it in his castle in Night. He'd recollect to pick it up and bring it to Traxis when this was all over. Verbalizing of whom, the Night God was still uneasy about what Traxis had not told him; about the role Death was supposed to play, and who this "she" was supposed to be. It couldn't be the promiscuous female, she never quite contributed to anything of Traxis's.. He would dwell on it later. Perhaps once his task was consummated Traxis would be willing enough to tell him. Zukra snorted at his own ingenuous cerebrating. As if Traxis was ever "disposed" to do anything.
Coming upon the immensely colossal urn sitting in a wasteland, Zukra unhesitatingly picked the relic up and smashed it. A sizably voluminous, booming voice declared from the firmament. "Who has the temerity to break my sacred vase? Thou hast liberated me from my perpetual slumber and hast been granted three wi-"
Zukra, without so much as a transmutation in expression, yawned as he reached out and curled his fingers around some invisible object. The voice ceased and commenced to choke.
"You aren't comical," the Night God sneered.
Nulmik's invisibility faded, his hands clutching his neck as the Night God hoisted the shadow into the air afore dropping him. Despite the toss, Nulmik landed quietly and gracefully on his feet.
"Well I cerebrate it was pretty comical. You wouldn't believe me when I told you how many demigods have been illuded by that." Nulmik gestured, abstracting the invisibility from the thousands of smashed urns littering the wasteland, as well as the skeletons of demigods.
"I wouldn't believe you no matter WHAT you told me. You ken this, everyone kens this."
The Tendril fidgeted nervously with his shadowy clawlike appendages. "Occupational hazard. What do you require.....and furthermore, what is it you optate?"
"The Museum has presumably taken the Moon and Sun. You're the only one who converses with the overgrown outhouse; order it to distribute the Astrals to Traxis immediately."
Nulmik looked bored.
Zukra frowned. "What?" he scowled.
"That's it?" the Tendril consistently visually examined his own fingers as he opened and closed his hand.
"What do you betoken "that's it"?" The Night God took a step more proximate, evoking his spear from a portal to his right.
Nulmik held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing, of course.....I just thought that with HER arousing and all, that might not go so well..."
Zukra hesitated. Nulmik visually perceived this immediately and hungrily commenced cerebrating. Opportunity had presented itself.
"What? Didn't the Lord tell you of his orchestration? Or did he only give you components of it? Classic Traxis. Doesn't believe in giving his pawns all the information."
"I am no pawn, Shadow. And YOU are bluffing. Surely Traxis hasn't told you everything, either."
"I never verbalized he TOLD me. I have my ways."
"How many oaths did you break to get this information?"
"None.....yet."
"Verbalize with the Keeper. If he does not comply we will be coerced to kill him. Is that simple enough a message to relay to him?"
With an aggrandized bow, Nulmik vanished.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:25:48 GMT -6
Muran awoke with a commencement, jumping from his lying position on the ground and immediately checked his circumventions. His ocular perceivers blinked furiously to adjust, until he realized he could simply engender light because he was a fucking Sun God. "I genuinely need to get utilized to doing that..." Muran commenced to glow and illuminate his circumventions.
At first he simply had no conception where he was. The room was diminutive; a square chamber about fifteen by fifteen feet. The walls were brown and musty from age or neglect. Spiderwebs dotted the corners of the floor and ceiling. There were four doors, one on each side of the room; all open, all beckoning for Muran to enter. There were no denotements, no sounds, no visual denotements of any kind which way was that. Muran adjusted his posture and set off down one of the doors.
Upon entering the next room, Muran descried it was the exact same shape; a square room of fifteen by fifteen feet. He expeditiously glanced back; had he authentically entered a different room? "What in Night is going on here?" Muran shouted. "Where am I? Is anyone here?"
Affirmative, there was. The shadows on the wall flickered. Muran turned his light towards a corner of the room where a brobdingnagian spider hissed and jumped at him, its legs propelling the beast through the air. The creature was facilely the size of a wolf, thoroughly ebony preserve for its glowing ocular perceivers, which dimly glowed with a dark red hue. Muran unseathed his blade to intercept the spider, which he cleaved in half as it flew towards him. Squirming and writhing on the ground, it turned to visually examine the sword plunge into its bulbous face.
You are inside the gauntlet, little god.
Muran looked around. The voice from all directions, shaking the room and causing the walls to open up, shuffling books around that were obnubilated abaft the musty wood. The shelves expeditiously rearranged themselves and the walls closed.
The gauntlet of Verboten Cognizance has claimed innumerable victims and has yielded no survivors.
three more doors stood open for Muran. One was marked with gilded edges, one was plain and mundane, and another was lined with teeth. The door with a mouth snarled and gnashed whenever Muran came close.
Now die for my regalement.
--------------------
Riasond ambulated up to the pedestal, picking up the scroll.
An intriguing cull. Call upon havoc whenever you optate.
"Shut up," Riasond snarled. "You verbally expressed Muran is in here too; in this "Gauntlet". Where? SHOW ME SO THAT I CAN RAVAGE HIM, AND THEN YOU!"
Exiting the gilded room, Riasond turned towards the other three doors. "Whatever it takes."
-------------------
More chunks of marble were blasted aside as Legath shoved the debris away. Staring up into the vacuous empyrean, he glanced at the remains of the demolished Library. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he had no conception where the Astrals were, and all he could do now was return to Traxis empty-handed.
>return to Traxis empty-handed
>empty-handed
>Traxis
"Oh, fuck."
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:29:11 GMT -6
Legath was no poltroon; he was no Nulmik. However, any imbecile would ken that returning to Traxis without a prize, especially after his admonitions of what would come if Legath returned in defeat, would be lethal.
Struggling to keep his composure, he bowed in front of Traxis. A bead of sweat trickled down his face. Traxis visually perceived it immediately.
"Verbalize. Explicate why I do not visually perceive the Astrals in chains contiguous to you."
"The Museum of Monstrosities interfered and took both-"
Legath hit the ground afore hie ocular perceivers could settle on the hand transfixing his chest.
------------------------------
Legath was no Poltroon; he was no Nulmik. However, any imbecile would ken that returning to Traxis without a prize, especially after his admonishments of what would come if Legath returned in defeat, would be lethal.
Sauntering in with an erroneous air of confidence, he knelt afore Traxis.
"Verbalize. Expound why I do not visually perceive the Astrals in chains in juxtaposition of you." Traxis's prehension incremented on the throne, his clawlike hands digging into the ornate seat. The wooden armrest crunched under the pressure. Traxis perpetuated to consistently visually examine Legath, who probably would've vacated his bowels right about now.
"You optically discern, My Lord, i was coerced to slay them both. The Sun and Moon relucted to stop battling each other...in the crossfire I claimed both their lives. The spheres are ours."
Traxis leaned forward gradually. "I needed them alive." He stood up.
Legath hit the ground afore his ocular perceivers could settle on the hand transfixing his chest.
------------------
Legath ran in. "Please have mercy. I do not ken of their locations but I am positive that-"
Legath hit the ground afore his ocular perceivers could settle on the hand transfixing his chest.
--------------
Legath marched into the chamber, as Nulmik, Zukra, Echo, and the Elites followed him.
"It's about time the era of Royals ended. We're here to-"
Legath hit the ground afore his ocular perceivers could settle on the hand (this time it was Nulmik's from behind; that slimy cunt) transfixing his chest.
-------------------
"Damnit!"
Every scenario that Legath ran through his mind ended with his corpse on the chamber floor. Every so often he'd glance at the horizon, hoping desperately to visually perceive the silhouette of the Museum in the distance. No matter what, Traxis would penalize failure with death. There was no other way it would turn out. Considering recruiting the avail of a neutral party that would possibly spare his life, his clouded cerebrations were interrupted by the sound of a book being smashed against his head.
He hoisted his hand up, effortlessly catching astalia's arm without even looking abaft him. "Delicately comely, but I'm not falling for that one agai-"
He winced and dropped when she kneed him in the precious region. Recuperating from the dirty blow, he swung out his foot and tripped the Sagacity Goddess over, who hit her head on a jagged piece of marble. She gasped as her pupils rolled up her ocular perceivers into her forehead, and then she lay still.
Peering over the insensate goddess, Legath ascertained she was plenarily out afore picking her up. Cradling his balls, he channeled a teleportation to the Embrace.
"This will do," he verbalized.
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:30:06 GMT -6
Death drove his scythe into the musty chamber floor and rose. "She's aroused. I will be back."
Traxis didn't even bother to optically canvass him as the Royal stretched from his cross-legged rumination. "Then it is time to set everything in kineticism."
Reaching for the archaic blackened sundial depicting a skull and a leaf on antithesis sides, he struck the relic, sending it spinning in place as energy hummed around it.
"All-flesh: intercept Kinacha. I sincerely doubt that Nulmik has the brains, guts or spine to do what he is authoritatively mandated. If you encounter either of those two, feel in liberty to ravage them both. The Astrals will remain alive and be distributed unto me."
The ground writhed with clammy bliss.
"Alive and lucid, unless you optate your tissue burned clean off when you get back."
"I FEEL THEM. I FEEL ALL. AND SO SHALL THEY."
"Spare me the theatrics, Krom."
COMING ANON: Blood of the Royals 3: Obsidian Welkin
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Post by Edgelord on Sept 18, 2015 18:31:37 GMT -6
Further and further, Muran was urged forwards by the voice of Kinacha.
I am impressed you have progressed this far. No mortal has ever-
"Wait, sorry, what? I mentally conceived you kenned I was the Sun God." Muran glanced back at the doorways full of gnashing teeth, the zombefied corpses struggling to stand with their legs severed off, the pedestals of eccentric archived artifacts that were too old or cryptic for Muran to make them function felicitously, the evil flying books, and so on. "Veraciously I cerebrated, with the way you were hyping this Gauntlet up, that I would go through this long, arduous journey and sustain a bunch of wounds along the way afore I conclusively met my cessation by some abominable pet of yours locked away. But it's just been miles of rooms of monsters and traps! What is this, a storybook? I mean for-"
SILENCE! I had not forgotten. I was just so acclimated to demigods being my victims that I simply fell into the routine and-....I don't require to explicate myself to you. Keep peregrinated, the voice in his head commanded, conspicuously vexed and the slightest bit disconcerted.
"No, earnestly, I'm glowing," Muran relucted to put the topic down. "My puissance has been incrementing ever since I discovered I was the Sun God and veraciously? I'm sufficiently certain I can cut through whatever beasts you have waiting for me. Especially after what transpired back on the fifth catacombs."
Nibbles was having an off day and you ken it. That was a fluke.
"For a flying ink-leviathan having an off day it sure looked irate and salubrious."
Ostensibly your mouth and ego have swelled along with your potency. Where was this confidence as I tore apart the Library and killed your friend? I'm sure she would have appreciated the assistance afore the debris mangled her body and ruptured her ribs.[/font][/i]
Muran punched an irate doorway with a balled fist of golden energy. "I've never auricularly discerned you verbalize for this long, Keeper. You must be bored."
Your Lunar obverse is not providing much regalement. Ever since the fourth catacombs he just commenced screaming "MURAAAAAN" perpetually. He hasn't ceased and it is giving me a headache.[/font]
"You don't have a head. Heh, conjecture that signifies you don't have a brain, either."
Whatever I have is much more astronomically immense than yours; you can be sure of that.[/font]
"Verbalizing of Riasond...where precisely IS he? I haven't visually perceived or auricularly discerned him at all. I expected to encounter him, but I suppose you've been keeping us separate until you feel the desideratum to throw us at each other in a desperate struggle to survive."
Essentially.
After ramming his foot into the skull of another paper zombie, Muran looked around, bemused. "Wow. You genuinely ARE feeling chatty today, Keeper. You're commencing to give ME a headache. But please, keep peregrinated."
These halls can give you things much, much worse than a headache. Do you not understand? I am an ambassador of timeless secrets. The relics, the entities, the records contained within my shelves can shatter stoutheartedness and set the mind ablaze. It would take three sacred syllables implanted into your brain to send your Sun-God grey matter oozing out of your WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Prying away a lock with his sword, Muran hopped through the threshold and ran through the restricted section, tearing down doors with slashes of his blade as he peregrinated towards a limpidly marked exit.
=======================
"Hey David wanna visually perceive something cool?"
"What do you-...oh my Gods."
Frank let out a giggle, which grew to a snort and determinately into full blown wheezing cachinnation.
"You authentically smeared shit all over the throne room."
"You would not believe how much time this took."
"I don't optate to ken how much of ANYTHING this took."
"Pretty rad, huh?"
"He's going to fucking gut us."
"Wha-?"
"YOU IMBECILE! WHEN HE OPTICALLY DISCERNS THIS HE'S GOING TO GUT US LIKE PIGS!"
"I'm gonna be thoroughly veracious: I did not consider that."
"What possessed you to even do this? Why did this seem akin to a good conception?"
"All the best conceptions are the deplorable conceptions."
"I fucking loathe you."
"You should optically discern what I did to his wardrobe."
"Holy shit."
"Wow, good conjecture."
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