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Isk Honored Member

Joined: 30 Dec 2003 Posts: 1667 Location: -=Magincia=-
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Posted: Fri Oct 05, 2007 11:49 am Post subject: Hydra |
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If there is one truth to life it is that to the victor go the spoils. And so it was that the Chest of Evil lay in the balance, ready to be seized by means of battle. Molly had no doubt spirited the dark artefact to a safe place and with rumours of new fortifications being built within Castle Blackguard the half possessed Magnate made an educated guess that the second to last piece of his suit was within.
“I only hope our allies win us the day” Isk stated as he sucked in the thick Utopia smoke from his antiquated pipe. He had been at the drugs for most of the day dispelling nervous jitters. His voice changed to a deeper pitch “Our victory is assured. This Sunday will be a day to remember”
As bluish smoke passed from the porcelain lips and nose of Isk’s emotionless mask the Magnate could only nod. “If they keep it at their castle the siege will be difficult…” he said as he slouched down his throne. He suddenly felt like he was collapsing into himself as the drugs massaged his brain. Falling from his chair he released the pipe and let it spill its sweet contents to the sandstone floor. He rolled over to look at the swirling images on the ceiling as he felt a phantom hand lightly press on his chest like a concerned parent.
Suddenly he saw glimpses of the battle ahead, the four banners of his army storming through the gates of an impressive structure. The Matriarch of Umbra laughing as her generals lead the army through the defenders like a hot iron through pig flesh. He saw Cear of the Zog Cabal burning the enemy with liquid fire, the great daemon Tarothin crushing skulls with his bare hands… all three allied to the Magnate, allied to the Hand of Evil artifact. Heads of a massive hydra destined to crush the light.
Still grasping at the strands of the future, Isk saw Smogg, the lord of necromancy, handing the Gauntlets of Evil to him. He saw himself dressed in the entire suit, a tornado swirling around him with crimson blood. Plagues and sickness spreading through the world, the armies of darkness pressing though the lands destroying alliances and burning all in their path. The four headed hydra consuming everything. One thousand years of darkness. |
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Talon Skyfire Seasoned Veteran

Joined: 01 Jan 2004 Posts: 374 Location: Sanctus
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Posted: Fri Oct 05, 2007 2:33 pm Post subject: |
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The Kingdom of Sanctus was nicknamed, "The White Gate." Once again, that name would be put to the test.
A great army was amassing against the forces of light. The groups and nations who formed the ranks were largely unknown, save for the fact that their numbers were endless.
Battle was coming. A Battle not seen since the likes of the great conflicts at Stonegate and the Seige of Britain. The fate of Sosaria herself hinged on the coming conflict.
Sanctus was alive with activity. Soldiers and common folk alike worked tirelessly to enhance the fortifications of Castle Blackguard, ensuring a hellish encounter for those seeking to breach the great stronghold.
King Skyfire walked the ramparts, observing the defenses. Ballista bolts protruded over the edges of the walls like the teeth of some great beast, ready to devour the forces of darkness. Kegs of flammable liquid stood poised to spill their inferno on the aggressors.
Banners from allied nations began to dot the landscape as whatever help could be offered arrived.
Talon made his way to the bowels of the castle, down to the vaults. There, behind a great steel door, was kept the catalyst of everything to come: The Breastplate of Evil.
The irony of the situation was almost unbearable. The fate of the world, to be decided by a peice of armor. _________________ ~Lord Talon Skyfire
King of Sanctus
Lord Protector of Malas |
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Darrien Church Honored Member


Joined: 06 Jun 2004 Posts: 1810
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Posted: Sat Oct 06, 2007 1:48 pm Post subject: |
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Deep in the recesses of Covetous in a dank and dark throne-room once belonging to it’s former teacher the Lich-Lord once called Darrien Church in life sat motionless clutching an ornate mirror close to his chest.
The green energy vortexes composing his eyes threw a sickly pale glow about the chamber to reveal it covered from wall to wall, floor to ceiling in ancient texts methodically organized as well as a great multitude of relics laid out in a careful order.
It was there physically but his eyes were turned elsewhere.
True it thought musing over it’s most recent success…it had completed it’s great work, it had purged Sosaria of every form of heretic that dare consider itself a child of Oblivion…The Lich went so far as to turn his power on it’s own “unworthy” minions after their dark tasks.
Nearly a lifetime of work, and thousands of hours spent scheming against the very Order it swore itself to had left him so close to his ultimate goal, the extinguishing of every and any form of life on Sosaria, a glorious tribute and fitting holocaust to the Abyss, and the Stygian Empire.
It sensed the Magnate’s essence being corrupted, it heard reports of the impending darkness to come…
The appointed hour to plant the seed…
What was broken, defiled and led to ruin shall be made holy once more…
Now, it alone possessed the knowledge...
Now, one of suitable corruption would rise…
Yes…it knew it to be true…it did not make mistakes…it’s logic flawless it’s intelligence unmatched…for years it studied the prophecies.
This one…this magnate was the one prophesized…the one destined to restore us…the messiah…Morgaz incarnate!
It…it had cleansed Sosaria as the prophecy directed…it had appeased Oblivion’s anger by laying waste to the lost sons and daughters of the Skull.
The appointed hour draws near…
With a sudden jerk of it’s left arm the Lich thrust it’s open palm into the air…slowly faintly at first a pale violet glow began to over-power the putrid green light flooding from it’s eye-sockets.
An image slowly took shape glowing through the bone of it’s palm…
Turning it’s head slightly seeming to become aware of it’s surroundings the Lich Lord glanced to an ornate yet familiar pedestal a few feet in front of it...
Lowering it’s palm as to be level with the pedestal’s flat surface it gazed in a second mirror across from it and began to screech with untold pleasure it’s eye sockets swirling violently.
Hovering gently atop the pedestal glowing brightly upon it’s palm…The Ebon Skull. |
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