04-16-2016, 02:29 PM
Everything was in place.
Pieces had been carefully positioned on the sham, imitation chessboard landscape of the Omniverse. Months of planning, delays, and unexpected turns of events had ever stood in the way of the God-Mind’s progress. Despite it all, despite this sickened universe’s refusal to cow itself to everlasting change, Nealaphh was finally in a place to launch a direct blow to the farce that The Smiling One had put in place.
The night prior had been an interesting one.
Okor and Red Hood had ventured away from the camp in the darkness on the auspices of a security sweep. Nealaphh had been dubious of the necessity of such a thing, but the results could not be disputed. Out of all the Primes that Ambrosia had to offer, at the very least, The Strongest Prime had stumbled into Nealaphh’s orchestrations. Words would have to be had with the Princess at a later date, but for now, Nealaphh did not have time to worry about the petty nuances of politics.
The wizard had been surprised to see the God-Mind, to say the least. The last time they had met had ended in blood, and though the battle was fierce, both Primes had left with their lives. Perhaps it was the fact alone that Nealaphh had spared Gildarts that the wizard was even willing to consider assisting the God-Mind with their doom-driven task, but after explaining to the man that a pact had been forged with his chosen leader, Gildarts had fallen into line, if silently. Something still plagued the Prime, however; Nealaphh could sense it. Whatever illness had gripped Gildarts before now had dissipated, but this new blight had somehow added…depth to the wizard’s mind. A dark, consuming depth that reminded Nealaphh of something that could only be equated to home.
Erik Vrell was an interesting sight to behold. The last Nealaphh had seen of the man was his desperate last stand in the burning streets of Nippur. Before that, he had been beaten down by the blighted hand of Nealaphh’s most trusted follower. A smattering of fear speckled itself across the psionically luminant landscape of Vrell’s mind. The boy would be an asset, for now.
He, along with many of the other Primes assembled, had retired to the makeshift shelters that Nealaphh had spent the day constructing. The entire camp sang with anticipation and excited fear across the psychic medium, except for a notable few. Tom had gone missing, per se, shortly after the group of Primes had chosen to disperse, and the signature blankness of his mind was absent from what the Enigma could feel on Death Mountain that night. It was odd, but perhaps the presence of so many other arcane practitioners had put Riddle on edge.
Thor Odinson had been the last of the Primes to retire to bed, if the table of the Gorons’ feast hall could be called such a thing. Though the Gorons themselves drank only water and ate only rocks, they did keep a decadent stash of more human fare and drink stocked deep within their basalt larder. Darunia himself had chosen to join in the revelry, for the Gorons were nothing if not proud and boisterous. Their friendly nature immediately had won the God of Thunder over, and by the following morning, they too were calling Thor a Brother.
Colonel, Zack and Miranda had spent the night conversing, and catching up. At least, the first two Primes did. Even from across the Goron Village, Nealaphh could sense her deeply troubled mind. What, exactly, was bothering, was something that Nealaphh could only guess at. Hopefully, for now, whatever it was would not distract her during the coming battle.
It was still quite early in the morning on Death Mountain, a fact punctuated by the groggy look on more than a few of the gathered Primes’ faces. Darkness enveloped the landscape, and looking out from the side of the high slope, the fire-specked landscape of the Ashen Steppes illuminated ebon blanket like a field of warped, dying stars. Looking behind, the summit of Death Mountain served as the proverbial sun. A wide field of pulsating orange blossomed from behind the silhouette of the peak’s caldera, and seemed to beckon with an almost organic scintillation.
Presently, the gathered Primes stood before Nealaphh in much the same way they had the evening prior. Their collected eyes glinted in the darkness, the flickering of the fire-soaked summit catching their humors like predators in the night. It was not entirely an inaccurate comparison, for this morning, they were indeed the hunters. Klee and Shen had taken their dutiful places at Nealaphh’s side, but this morning, the God-Mind chose to speak to the Primes directly. Its telepathic voice rang clear in their thoughts, deep and resonant.
Good morning, treasured friends and allies. Though it is a dark morning in the Steppes, it is a bright day in the Omniverse. The Smiling One would have us amble across his sculpted world, suffering and dying in vain hopes of a world we can call home.
A hoarse, modulated chuckle came from Okor.
By now I trust you have all reviewed the plan of operations for this morning. As such, I will now assign you to your squads. Gildarts Clive, Zack Fair, Okor Paleblood, Thor Odinson, Tom Riddle; you have been assigned to Alpha squad. Your task is nothing short of killing a god, and I would have no one else in this false world attempt such a thing.
“You choose wisely, Nealaphh!” Thor bellowed, brandishing Mjlnor.
“Hey, I’ve done nothing but kill dragons since I got here. What’s one or five more?” Zack said, only half-sardonically.
Okor, I entrust the Gigaton Hammer to you.
The monolithic revenant stomped towards Nealaphh, and reached out to take the proffered implement. It floated greedily into the plague marine’s ancient grasp, not entirely of Nealaphh’s own power. There came a sharp splintering noise as a shudder seemed to run up and down the length of the polished haft. As if responding to Okor’s touch, the Gigaton Hammer took on a violent, jagged appearance, crusting over with verdigris and rust. A fiery orange beacon blistered open on the head, mirroring Okor’s own cyclopean gaze.
“A true honor my…lord. But was not the….Goron chieftan to wield the Hammer?” the Plague Marine wheezed. Nealaphh shook its head ever so slightly.
That was my original intent, but such plans do not always fall into place so neatly. The important element is that it has a worthy master.
Conceding, Okor took a step back and ran a gauntleted hand along the weapon, the closest thing to affection he was capable of. Tom rose an eyebrow at the display, making a small note in his diary. Neither he nor the shadow had designed the hammer to adapt to the will of its wielder. It would have to be studied more closely later. Gildarts remained resolutely silent, keeping his eyes fixed on Nealaphh. Again, the God-Mind sensed a darkness fomenting the wizard’s soul, but there was no open thought of hostility.
Erik Vrell, Red Hood, Darth Revan. You will accompany me into Volvagia’s lair to make preparations for the death blow. You have been chosen for your demonstrated cunning.
“Demonstrated how?” snapped Revan. All she had done was walk/fly up the side of the mountain. How could Nealaphh possibly know anything of what she was capable of?
No simple mind can block my scrutiny, Revan. If you have such an implicit discipline, I am sure you are a sight to behold when you put it to active use.
“…fine then.” She muttered, he claws tapping impatiently against the silvered pommel of her lightsaber. Red Hood glanced over at Thor for a moment, and Nealaphh could feel a pang of longing for the man’s comrade, but ultimately, Hood acknowledged his duty.
“So long as I’m far away from that freak.” Erik muttered, glancing over at Okor. Just about everyone heard him, but now was not the time to take grievance at such remarks.
Connor Hound, Miranda Frost, Harry Dresden, Colonel. You will keep the rest of us safe, in a manner of speaking. We all owe you a great debt.
“Affirmative.” Said Colonel in his abrupt tone. Miranda’s crimson gaze betrayed no emotions whatsoever, and she simply folded her arms. Connor, on the other hand, gleefully cocked his gun and flashed a grin at Nealaphh.
“First real job since I’ve been here. Gonna make it good, you can count on that.” The mercenary said with nothing short of a cheery tone.
“Hey, no pressure right? By the way, we're gonna have to talk about that 'mental scrutiny' thing later.” Harry snorted, tapping his staff on the ground impatiently. Nealaphh paid the wizard no heed, and continued speaking.
Darunia has allowed some of his Gorons to assist us in our endeavor. Gamma team, I leave you with twenty of them to aid you in your fight. We will take five to help guide us through the caverns inside the mountain. Alpha team, I am afraid I cannot put Secondaries right in the sight of one of the Omniverse’s most powerful Primes.
The gathered warriors expressed their understanding, and thus, the Battle of Death Mountain had officially begun. They met with the pack of thirty Gorons on the road out of the village, up the mountain. Tom had scouted the path the day prior, and found no other way up to the summit. Nealaphh had no doubt that Volvagia knew they were coming, and that it was only a matter of time before his brood fell upon them…
Pieces had been carefully positioned on the sham, imitation chessboard landscape of the Omniverse. Months of planning, delays, and unexpected turns of events had ever stood in the way of the God-Mind’s progress. Despite it all, despite this sickened universe’s refusal to cow itself to everlasting change, Nealaphh was finally in a place to launch a direct blow to the farce that The Smiling One had put in place.
The night prior had been an interesting one.
Okor and Red Hood had ventured away from the camp in the darkness on the auspices of a security sweep. Nealaphh had been dubious of the necessity of such a thing, but the results could not be disputed. Out of all the Primes that Ambrosia had to offer, at the very least, The Strongest Prime had stumbled into Nealaphh’s orchestrations. Words would have to be had with the Princess at a later date, but for now, Nealaphh did not have time to worry about the petty nuances of politics.
The wizard had been surprised to see the God-Mind, to say the least. The last time they had met had ended in blood, and though the battle was fierce, both Primes had left with their lives. Perhaps it was the fact alone that Nealaphh had spared Gildarts that the wizard was even willing to consider assisting the God-Mind with their doom-driven task, but after explaining to the man that a pact had been forged with his chosen leader, Gildarts had fallen into line, if silently. Something still plagued the Prime, however; Nealaphh could sense it. Whatever illness had gripped Gildarts before now had dissipated, but this new blight had somehow added…depth to the wizard’s mind. A dark, consuming depth that reminded Nealaphh of something that could only be equated to home.
Erik Vrell was an interesting sight to behold. The last Nealaphh had seen of the man was his desperate last stand in the burning streets of Nippur. Before that, he had been beaten down by the blighted hand of Nealaphh’s most trusted follower. A smattering of fear speckled itself across the psionically luminant landscape of Vrell’s mind. The boy would be an asset, for now.
He, along with many of the other Primes assembled, had retired to the makeshift shelters that Nealaphh had spent the day constructing. The entire camp sang with anticipation and excited fear across the psychic medium, except for a notable few. Tom had gone missing, per se, shortly after the group of Primes had chosen to disperse, and the signature blankness of his mind was absent from what the Enigma could feel on Death Mountain that night. It was odd, but perhaps the presence of so many other arcane practitioners had put Riddle on edge.
Thor Odinson had been the last of the Primes to retire to bed, if the table of the Gorons’ feast hall could be called such a thing. Though the Gorons themselves drank only water and ate only rocks, they did keep a decadent stash of more human fare and drink stocked deep within their basalt larder. Darunia himself had chosen to join in the revelry, for the Gorons were nothing if not proud and boisterous. Their friendly nature immediately had won the God of Thunder over, and by the following morning, they too were calling Thor a Brother.
Colonel, Zack and Miranda had spent the night conversing, and catching up. At least, the first two Primes did. Even from across the Goron Village, Nealaphh could sense her deeply troubled mind. What, exactly, was bothering, was something that Nealaphh could only guess at. Hopefully, for now, whatever it was would not distract her during the coming battle.
It was still quite early in the morning on Death Mountain, a fact punctuated by the groggy look on more than a few of the gathered Primes’ faces. Darkness enveloped the landscape, and looking out from the side of the high slope, the fire-specked landscape of the Ashen Steppes illuminated ebon blanket like a field of warped, dying stars. Looking behind, the summit of Death Mountain served as the proverbial sun. A wide field of pulsating orange blossomed from behind the silhouette of the peak’s caldera, and seemed to beckon with an almost organic scintillation.
Presently, the gathered Primes stood before Nealaphh in much the same way they had the evening prior. Their collected eyes glinted in the darkness, the flickering of the fire-soaked summit catching their humors like predators in the night. It was not entirely an inaccurate comparison, for this morning, they were indeed the hunters. Klee and Shen had taken their dutiful places at Nealaphh’s side, but this morning, the God-Mind chose to speak to the Primes directly. Its telepathic voice rang clear in their thoughts, deep and resonant.
Good morning, treasured friends and allies. Though it is a dark morning in the Steppes, it is a bright day in the Omniverse. The Smiling One would have us amble across his sculpted world, suffering and dying in vain hopes of a world we can call home.
A hoarse, modulated chuckle came from Okor.
By now I trust you have all reviewed the plan of operations for this morning. As such, I will now assign you to your squads. Gildarts Clive, Zack Fair, Okor Paleblood, Thor Odinson, Tom Riddle; you have been assigned to Alpha squad. Your task is nothing short of killing a god, and I would have no one else in this false world attempt such a thing.
“You choose wisely, Nealaphh!” Thor bellowed, brandishing Mjlnor.
“Hey, I’ve done nothing but kill dragons since I got here. What’s one or five more?” Zack said, only half-sardonically.
Okor, I entrust the Gigaton Hammer to you.
The monolithic revenant stomped towards Nealaphh, and reached out to take the proffered implement. It floated greedily into the plague marine’s ancient grasp, not entirely of Nealaphh’s own power. There came a sharp splintering noise as a shudder seemed to run up and down the length of the polished haft. As if responding to Okor’s touch, the Gigaton Hammer took on a violent, jagged appearance, crusting over with verdigris and rust. A fiery orange beacon blistered open on the head, mirroring Okor’s own cyclopean gaze.
“A true honor my…lord. But was not the….Goron chieftan to wield the Hammer?” the Plague Marine wheezed. Nealaphh shook its head ever so slightly.
That was my original intent, but such plans do not always fall into place so neatly. The important element is that it has a worthy master.
Conceding, Okor took a step back and ran a gauntleted hand along the weapon, the closest thing to affection he was capable of. Tom rose an eyebrow at the display, making a small note in his diary. Neither he nor the shadow had designed the hammer to adapt to the will of its wielder. It would have to be studied more closely later. Gildarts remained resolutely silent, keeping his eyes fixed on Nealaphh. Again, the God-Mind sensed a darkness fomenting the wizard’s soul, but there was no open thought of hostility.
Erik Vrell, Red Hood, Darth Revan. You will accompany me into Volvagia’s lair to make preparations for the death blow. You have been chosen for your demonstrated cunning.
“Demonstrated how?” snapped Revan. All she had done was walk/fly up the side of the mountain. How could Nealaphh possibly know anything of what she was capable of?
No simple mind can block my scrutiny, Revan. If you have such an implicit discipline, I am sure you are a sight to behold when you put it to active use.
“…fine then.” She muttered, he claws tapping impatiently against the silvered pommel of her lightsaber. Red Hood glanced over at Thor for a moment, and Nealaphh could feel a pang of longing for the man’s comrade, but ultimately, Hood acknowledged his duty.
“So long as I’m far away from that freak.” Erik muttered, glancing over at Okor. Just about everyone heard him, but now was not the time to take grievance at such remarks.
Connor Hound, Miranda Frost, Harry Dresden, Colonel. You will keep the rest of us safe, in a manner of speaking. We all owe you a great debt.
“Affirmative.” Said Colonel in his abrupt tone. Miranda’s crimson gaze betrayed no emotions whatsoever, and she simply folded her arms. Connor, on the other hand, gleefully cocked his gun and flashed a grin at Nealaphh.
“First real job since I’ve been here. Gonna make it good, you can count on that.” The mercenary said with nothing short of a cheery tone.
“Hey, no pressure right? By the way, we're gonna have to talk about that 'mental scrutiny' thing later.” Harry snorted, tapping his staff on the ground impatiently. Nealaphh paid the wizard no heed, and continued speaking.
Darunia has allowed some of his Gorons to assist us in our endeavor. Gamma team, I leave you with twenty of them to aid you in your fight. We will take five to help guide us through the caverns inside the mountain. Alpha team, I am afraid I cannot put Secondaries right in the sight of one of the Omniverse’s most powerful Primes.
The gathered warriors expressed their understanding, and thus, the Battle of Death Mountain had officially begun. They met with the pack of thirty Gorons on the road out of the village, up the mountain. Tom had scouted the path the day prior, and found no other way up to the summit. Nealaphh had no doubt that Volvagia knew they were coming, and that it was only a matter of time before his brood fell upon them…
Quote:Writers will have another day or so to write as a total group before I divide the event into three separate threads. Standard calling rules apply. This is due to the fact we do not yet have a moderator volunteering to write as Volvagia.
Please subscribe to the discussion thread so that you can remain advised of any changes in plan.
And, we dream of home I dream of life out of here Their dreams are small My dreams don't know fear I got my heart full of hope I will change everything No matter what I'm told How impossible it seems We did it before And we'll do it again We're indestructible Even when we're tired And we've been here before Just you and I
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued