04-23-2017, 11:58 PM
“Gamil. Your sickle, can it channel hatred outwards as well as inwards?” Tearen asked, standing up in the shredded cab as the curious War Boys clamored and murmured at the senseless damage to the truck they had loaned the visitors from Grooota. The hulking, skeletal warrior glanced down at the ex-enigma with a worried stare.
“Yes, but I protest such action on two level,” The Knight of Hatred said, shoving a ranting and raving half-lifer away from him, “First, my goal here is to gain power, not spend it. Second, enraging these dregs shall have little effect; they already thrive on fury.”
Tearen nodded, then pointed out one of the scuttling Weirdlings that was still picking at a nearby vehicle.
“Those weirdlings, I learned that they are curiously receptive to psychic commands. It won’t take much. I suspect-“ Tearen was cut off as a booming voice came roaring down from overhead. It was Immortan Joe, asking just what in the blazes was going on. Time was growing short.
“Never mind suspect; I know that giving those weirdlings just a taste of hatred will spur them into a destructive frenzy. At least enough to distract these interlopers.” The Shadow said, gesturing to the pale warriors around them. Tearen had been working to prevent them from fully processing the scenario by distorting their perception of the flow of time, but this nuanced technique was not sustainable for long. This made it all the more alarming when Gamil took his sweet time in mulling Tearen’s suggestion over. Naturally, it could have been a ploy to get the Knight of Hatred to spend some of his stored power; Tearen could understand his suspicion. Still, time was of the essence.
“Gamil!” Tearen shouted, in as hoarse a wheeze as his broken voice would let him. The skeletal hulk let out an uncomfortable grunt before hoisting the inverted sickle overhead and letting a network of azure, energetic streamers to spill out of it. These filaments of emotional outrage wound there way around the heads of the collected weirdlings within the Garage. The effect was immediate. The pre-programmed monstrosities suddenly remembered a flicker of their past humanity, however single-minded it might have been. Immediately, the augmented bodies roared into a tantrum of ripped metal and screeching pain. Vehicles and machinery everwhere began to fly apart as the suddenly savage servitors lost any semblance of control. As predicted, the war boys completely forgot about the zone of temporal confusion that sat before them and rushed to tend to their machines.
“Come on!” the ex-enigma coughed, tugging on Gamil’s shoulder as he scampered over the back of the halved driver’s cab. Tearen was aware he was treading on the still-breathing bodies of expended slaves as he did so, but there was only so much he could do at this juncture. A loud thundering sound signaled to the Shadow that the Knight was indeed following close behind. Good.
The Shadow drew in a deep breath before simultaneously shifting into his avian body, which itself dissolved into a cloud of wispy, black smog. The Knight of Hatred cursed loudly as the ex-enigma slipped through a wall directly ahead of them and into the dark innards of the Citadel. There was certainly an advantage in never having demonstrated the extent of his powers to Gamil.
The prudent action at this juncture would have been to find Tyrael as quickly as possible, but as the crow-bodied Prime slipped through the layers of the Citadel like a speeding arrow, he quickly became aware of a hive of minds around him on all sides. The phantom bird alighted on a railing within one of the darkened rooms and extended his awareness, revealing that slumbering slaves surrounded him on all sides. Indecision plagued him only for a moment, before the wrought-iron door of this particular room blew off its hinges. The tremendous bang woke everyone within the malodorous darkness at once, and a quick telepathic urging had them on their feet in seconds.
Freedom! You are free! Release the others as you can, and flee!
Thus, a chain reaction was initiated within the bowels of the Citadel. Tearen took it on good faith that at least some of these poor souls would have the nobility to liberate their brethren. For good measure, the psychic crow demolished a few more holding pens, causing a near constant flow of unwashed bodies to stream down the hallways. Those token few warboys who deigned to try and stop the stampede were duly trampled. None of the frantic escapees dared question who their benefactor was, nor should they; there was only one priority on their minds right now, and that suited the Shadow just fine. The perched Prime watched the slaves file past, scanning their minds for cursory snippets that might lead him to Tyrael. There wasn’t much in the way of specifics; apparently the Immortan had kept the angel’s presence here a secret. A few repeated instances of the thought ‘treasure room’ piqued Tearen’s interest, however. The Prime reached out with his thoughts, seeking the only friendly mental signature in the immense building. Tearen almost gave up after a few minutes of searching, but finally found his friend.
Myla. Treasure room. Location?
A few moments passed.
Meet me on balcony. Still alive by the way, thanks for asking.
Tearen chose to ignore the ribbing for the time being.
Rendezvous in two minutes.
The crow shot off like a rocket, and exactly two minutes later, alighted on the railing of the sandstone balcony. The scene below was absolute chaos, with hordes of filthy, pale slaves streaming past the overwhelmed War Boys, who couldn’t decide between containing the jailbreak or trying to neutralize the rampaging weirdlings. Several moments passed, and Tearen began to grow worried that something had happened to Myla, but was reassured as the succubus slinked onto the lushly decorated reception area with a grin. Tearen shifted back into his hooded, burlap robes in a whorl of black smog. Myla jogged up to greet him with a big hug before immediately taking the ex-enigma by the hand and dragging him towards a staircase directly opposite of the balcony railing.
“There’s only one thing Joe considers his ‘treasures’; concubines and stuff. But, it’s the most secure place in the Citadel, so it would be the first place to look.” Myla said in an excited, hushed voice. As they ascended the spiraled, sandstone steps, the intrepid pair stepped over the bleeding, emaciated body of Immortan Joe’s lieutenant, Schemadness. Myla did not mention the corpse directly.
“I wasn’t able to find anyone with the information to the entrance code, but I’m guessing you’ve got some fancy Prime way of getting inside…” Myla said as they arrived at a small room that was built almost like a chapel. More plants and water features decorated the small room, and an immense vault door set into the wall. Tearen took a few steps forward, and touched an incorporeal hand to the heavy black metal. Much to his surprise, it sunk straight through the material, much like any other solid obstacle. The Prime had fully expected the vault to be constructed of some ghost-proof admixture of arcane metals, but evidently Joe was more concerned with keeping his treasures from getting out, rather than preventing ingress. The Shadow chuckled. Hubris never ceased to be useful. His levity was cut short as he remembered a promise, and he turned around with a grave expression on his glass face.
“Myla, we may not get another opportunity. Now would be a good time for me to absorb you.” Tearen said in a flat tone. He had been trying to think of gentler ways to put this morbid reality, but had devised none. Now was not the time for beating around the bush. Myla, understandably, balked slightly.
“I…dunno T. This is still kind of sudden and-“ the succubus was cut off as the sound of shouting came bouncing up the spiral staircase. The unmistakable growl of Immortan Joe’s filtered voice barked in indistinct rage, heralding his advance. Myla shoved Tearen away from her.
“Go! Find the angel. I’ll stall them.” She said, looking at the landing of the staircase. A flash of imminent events ran through Tearen’s mind as she said this. There was much that he could say to forestall the inevitable, but he had to remember his priorities.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and squeezed her hand before slipping through the black metal of the vault door. The inside of the Vault was even more lavish than the reception room. If Tearen didn’t know better, he would assume he wasn’t even in the Underverse, rather, the most palatial summit of Nippur. The ethereal, beautiful creatures within looked up with sleepy eyes as the foreboding black cloud drifted through the metal door. Their doe-like gazes widened with adrenaline as it dawned on them what was happening.
“He’s not a War Boy!”
“I can smell it! Prime! He’s a Prime!”
“Did Myla send you? She said she’d send someone!”
“Please! Please!”
Their frenzy was so great that Tearen had to slow the local flow of time and try to acquire his objective. Nearly everything in the room was of polished silver or red velvet, so the large, blinking slab of carbon hanging on the wall stood out like…well…an angel in hell. The Shadow had heard of this process when he had been reading about legal repercussions of resisting the empire. Carbonite; a process of indefinitely preserving living biomass, or anything else, for that matter.
Much like the phantom he was, the Shadow brushed past the clawing desperation of Joe’s unwilling concubines. He swept towards the control panel of the preservation unit, and frowned. The angel’s face was stoic and grave, even in the black, gleaming sheen of the carbon coating. There was no time to try and analyze the mechanical structure of the device. The only thing Tearen could think of was to try and reach into Tyrael’s mind, and awaken the Prime within. Surely, once he was awakened from his hibernation, the most legendary warrior in the Omniverse would have the strength to break free from this all-encompassing bondage.
The ex-enigma was halfway through this process when the door to the vault slammed open. Tearen managed to glance around just in time to see Myla stagger through the metal-coated passageway, a bloody hand covering her gut. Her eyes went unfocused, and the succubus collapsed to the floor, uttering only a weak gurgle. The Shadow’s eyes went wide, despite having already seen these events a few moments prior. Tearen rushed to her side as Immortan Joe stomped into the vault, along with Gamil, Knight of Hatred.
Immortan Joe started to gloat about how Tearen had been so cocky as to think that he himself could not be double-crossed, and how eternities of agony were in store for him. The Shadow didn’t really pay attention. His focus was on Myla, and her ebbing life. She was fading too fast; he wouldn’t be able to absorb her living Omnilium fast enough to create a perfect replica of her body. Droplets of rainbow brilliance drifted up through her face as Tearen did what he could to salvage her darkening mind. Once she had gone completely, only then did the Prime rise to his feet and face his malefactors.
“…and so, it comes to this, your quest failing with victory just out of reach.” Joe said, finishing an apparent diatribe. The ex-enigma’s viridian glare flicked back and forth between the face of Gamil and Joe, anger swelling in his gut. He was not beaten yet; not by a long shot. The Shadow held out an arm and called the halberd, Enigma, to his hands in a flash of pinkish light. When next he looked at Immortan Joe, however, the armored geriatric warlord’s eyes were not fixed on Tearen. The escapee Prime followed the demon lord’s gaze to Tyrael’s makeshift sarcophagus, to see large tendrils of white power weaving their way out of the black stone.
Immortan Joe was only able to manage a curtailed ‘No…!’ before a streak of holy power burst out of the carbonite and slammed fully into the warlord’s pale bulk. The entangled pair of legendary Primes crashed through the far wall of the adjoining lobby, and from the sounds of it, several walls after that. This just left Gamil and Tearen standing alone in the treasure vault as the last of Immortan’s sex slaves scrambled past the dusty bulk of the Knight.
“I should thank you…” Tearen said, bringing the head of Enigma to bear against the colossal grave knight. “It’s only thanks to you that I was able to get this far.” Gamil sneered at the comparatively miniature Prime.
“There’s only one thing I want from you, old boy.”
Tearen offered a malicious grin in return.
“I know.”
“Yes, but I protest such action on two level,” The Knight of Hatred said, shoving a ranting and raving half-lifer away from him, “First, my goal here is to gain power, not spend it. Second, enraging these dregs shall have little effect; they already thrive on fury.”
Tearen nodded, then pointed out one of the scuttling Weirdlings that was still picking at a nearby vehicle.
“Those weirdlings, I learned that they are curiously receptive to psychic commands. It won’t take much. I suspect-“ Tearen was cut off as a booming voice came roaring down from overhead. It was Immortan Joe, asking just what in the blazes was going on. Time was growing short.
“Never mind suspect; I know that giving those weirdlings just a taste of hatred will spur them into a destructive frenzy. At least enough to distract these interlopers.” The Shadow said, gesturing to the pale warriors around them. Tearen had been working to prevent them from fully processing the scenario by distorting their perception of the flow of time, but this nuanced technique was not sustainable for long. This made it all the more alarming when Gamil took his sweet time in mulling Tearen’s suggestion over. Naturally, it could have been a ploy to get the Knight of Hatred to spend some of his stored power; Tearen could understand his suspicion. Still, time was of the essence.
“Gamil!” Tearen shouted, in as hoarse a wheeze as his broken voice would let him. The skeletal hulk let out an uncomfortable grunt before hoisting the inverted sickle overhead and letting a network of azure, energetic streamers to spill out of it. These filaments of emotional outrage wound there way around the heads of the collected weirdlings within the Garage. The effect was immediate. The pre-programmed monstrosities suddenly remembered a flicker of their past humanity, however single-minded it might have been. Immediately, the augmented bodies roared into a tantrum of ripped metal and screeching pain. Vehicles and machinery everwhere began to fly apart as the suddenly savage servitors lost any semblance of control. As predicted, the war boys completely forgot about the zone of temporal confusion that sat before them and rushed to tend to their machines.
“Come on!” the ex-enigma coughed, tugging on Gamil’s shoulder as he scampered over the back of the halved driver’s cab. Tearen was aware he was treading on the still-breathing bodies of expended slaves as he did so, but there was only so much he could do at this juncture. A loud thundering sound signaled to the Shadow that the Knight was indeed following close behind. Good.
The Shadow drew in a deep breath before simultaneously shifting into his avian body, which itself dissolved into a cloud of wispy, black smog. The Knight of Hatred cursed loudly as the ex-enigma slipped through a wall directly ahead of them and into the dark innards of the Citadel. There was certainly an advantage in never having demonstrated the extent of his powers to Gamil.
The prudent action at this juncture would have been to find Tyrael as quickly as possible, but as the crow-bodied Prime slipped through the layers of the Citadel like a speeding arrow, he quickly became aware of a hive of minds around him on all sides. The phantom bird alighted on a railing within one of the darkened rooms and extended his awareness, revealing that slumbering slaves surrounded him on all sides. Indecision plagued him only for a moment, before the wrought-iron door of this particular room blew off its hinges. The tremendous bang woke everyone within the malodorous darkness at once, and a quick telepathic urging had them on their feet in seconds.
Freedom! You are free! Release the others as you can, and flee!
Thus, a chain reaction was initiated within the bowels of the Citadel. Tearen took it on good faith that at least some of these poor souls would have the nobility to liberate their brethren. For good measure, the psychic crow demolished a few more holding pens, causing a near constant flow of unwashed bodies to stream down the hallways. Those token few warboys who deigned to try and stop the stampede were duly trampled. None of the frantic escapees dared question who their benefactor was, nor should they; there was only one priority on their minds right now, and that suited the Shadow just fine. The perched Prime watched the slaves file past, scanning their minds for cursory snippets that might lead him to Tyrael. There wasn’t much in the way of specifics; apparently the Immortan had kept the angel’s presence here a secret. A few repeated instances of the thought ‘treasure room’ piqued Tearen’s interest, however. The Prime reached out with his thoughts, seeking the only friendly mental signature in the immense building. Tearen almost gave up after a few minutes of searching, but finally found his friend.
Myla. Treasure room. Location?
A few moments passed.
Meet me on balcony. Still alive by the way, thanks for asking.
Tearen chose to ignore the ribbing for the time being.
Rendezvous in two minutes.
The crow shot off like a rocket, and exactly two minutes later, alighted on the railing of the sandstone balcony. The scene below was absolute chaos, with hordes of filthy, pale slaves streaming past the overwhelmed War Boys, who couldn’t decide between containing the jailbreak or trying to neutralize the rampaging weirdlings. Several moments passed, and Tearen began to grow worried that something had happened to Myla, but was reassured as the succubus slinked onto the lushly decorated reception area with a grin. Tearen shifted back into his hooded, burlap robes in a whorl of black smog. Myla jogged up to greet him with a big hug before immediately taking the ex-enigma by the hand and dragging him towards a staircase directly opposite of the balcony railing.
“There’s only one thing Joe considers his ‘treasures’; concubines and stuff. But, it’s the most secure place in the Citadel, so it would be the first place to look.” Myla said in an excited, hushed voice. As they ascended the spiraled, sandstone steps, the intrepid pair stepped over the bleeding, emaciated body of Immortan Joe’s lieutenant, Schemadness. Myla did not mention the corpse directly.
“I wasn’t able to find anyone with the information to the entrance code, but I’m guessing you’ve got some fancy Prime way of getting inside…” Myla said as they arrived at a small room that was built almost like a chapel. More plants and water features decorated the small room, and an immense vault door set into the wall. Tearen took a few steps forward, and touched an incorporeal hand to the heavy black metal. Much to his surprise, it sunk straight through the material, much like any other solid obstacle. The Prime had fully expected the vault to be constructed of some ghost-proof admixture of arcane metals, but evidently Joe was more concerned with keeping his treasures from getting out, rather than preventing ingress. The Shadow chuckled. Hubris never ceased to be useful. His levity was cut short as he remembered a promise, and he turned around with a grave expression on his glass face.
“Myla, we may not get another opportunity. Now would be a good time for me to absorb you.” Tearen said in a flat tone. He had been trying to think of gentler ways to put this morbid reality, but had devised none. Now was not the time for beating around the bush. Myla, understandably, balked slightly.
“I…dunno T. This is still kind of sudden and-“ the succubus was cut off as the sound of shouting came bouncing up the spiral staircase. The unmistakable growl of Immortan Joe’s filtered voice barked in indistinct rage, heralding his advance. Myla shoved Tearen away from her.
“Go! Find the angel. I’ll stall them.” She said, looking at the landing of the staircase. A flash of imminent events ran through Tearen’s mind as she said this. There was much that he could say to forestall the inevitable, but he had to remember his priorities.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and squeezed her hand before slipping through the black metal of the vault door. The inside of the Vault was even more lavish than the reception room. If Tearen didn’t know better, he would assume he wasn’t even in the Underverse, rather, the most palatial summit of Nippur. The ethereal, beautiful creatures within looked up with sleepy eyes as the foreboding black cloud drifted through the metal door. Their doe-like gazes widened with adrenaline as it dawned on them what was happening.
“He’s not a War Boy!”
“I can smell it! Prime! He’s a Prime!”
“Did Myla send you? She said she’d send someone!”
“Please! Please!”
Their frenzy was so great that Tearen had to slow the local flow of time and try to acquire his objective. Nearly everything in the room was of polished silver or red velvet, so the large, blinking slab of carbon hanging on the wall stood out like…well…an angel in hell. The Shadow had heard of this process when he had been reading about legal repercussions of resisting the empire. Carbonite; a process of indefinitely preserving living biomass, or anything else, for that matter.
Much like the phantom he was, the Shadow brushed past the clawing desperation of Joe’s unwilling concubines. He swept towards the control panel of the preservation unit, and frowned. The angel’s face was stoic and grave, even in the black, gleaming sheen of the carbon coating. There was no time to try and analyze the mechanical structure of the device. The only thing Tearen could think of was to try and reach into Tyrael’s mind, and awaken the Prime within. Surely, once he was awakened from his hibernation, the most legendary warrior in the Omniverse would have the strength to break free from this all-encompassing bondage.
The ex-enigma was halfway through this process when the door to the vault slammed open. Tearen managed to glance around just in time to see Myla stagger through the metal-coated passageway, a bloody hand covering her gut. Her eyes went unfocused, and the succubus collapsed to the floor, uttering only a weak gurgle. The Shadow’s eyes went wide, despite having already seen these events a few moments prior. Tearen rushed to her side as Immortan Joe stomped into the vault, along with Gamil, Knight of Hatred.
Immortan Joe started to gloat about how Tearen had been so cocky as to think that he himself could not be double-crossed, and how eternities of agony were in store for him. The Shadow didn’t really pay attention. His focus was on Myla, and her ebbing life. She was fading too fast; he wouldn’t be able to absorb her living Omnilium fast enough to create a perfect replica of her body. Droplets of rainbow brilliance drifted up through her face as Tearen did what he could to salvage her darkening mind. Once she had gone completely, only then did the Prime rise to his feet and face his malefactors.
“…and so, it comes to this, your quest failing with victory just out of reach.” Joe said, finishing an apparent diatribe. The ex-enigma’s viridian glare flicked back and forth between the face of Gamil and Joe, anger swelling in his gut. He was not beaten yet; not by a long shot. The Shadow held out an arm and called the halberd, Enigma, to his hands in a flash of pinkish light. When next he looked at Immortan Joe, however, the armored geriatric warlord’s eyes were not fixed on Tearen. The escapee Prime followed the demon lord’s gaze to Tyrael’s makeshift sarcophagus, to see large tendrils of white power weaving their way out of the black stone.
Immortan Joe was only able to manage a curtailed ‘No…!’ before a streak of holy power burst out of the carbonite and slammed fully into the warlord’s pale bulk. The entangled pair of legendary Primes crashed through the far wall of the adjoining lobby, and from the sounds of it, several walls after that. This just left Gamil and Tearen standing alone in the treasure vault as the last of Immortan’s sex slaves scrambled past the dusty bulk of the Knight.
“I should thank you…” Tearen said, bringing the head of Enigma to bear against the colossal grave knight. “It’s only thanks to you that I was able to get this far.” Gamil sneered at the comparatively miniature Prime.
“There’s only one thing I want from you, old boy.”
Tearen offered a malicious grin in return.
“I know.”
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