05-28-2017, 01:13 PM
The elemental power which Kopaka had drawn upon in order to goad the storm had interfered with a process possessing tremendous inertia. As the Liberators fought to gain access to Nebula's mountain lair, the effect rippled outward, colliding with other weather-systems and forces within the ice, a cresting wave of errant arctic energy.
As the Toa of Ice set out into the rapidly-worsening gale thunder rolled, and the clouds, hidden though they were behind curtains of tumbling snow, began to roil.
Fortunately, Keldor wasn't hard to find. Flashes of magic and fire shone even through the driving sheets of windblown ice, and the sorcerer's laughter carried on the wind.
"Nyeheheheheheheheh! Fools! Imbeciles! Still you think you can stand against my power? Persist in this idiocy and you'll end up... on ice!"
There.
The Warlock stood with his back to the bionicle, surrounded by corpses half-buried in the snow and facing down a dozen or more darklings. Tongues of black flame rose from his body.
"Keldor," the Toa called, his voice carrying unnaturally well through the frigid air, "The path is clear. Your task is complete - but we must hurry. Our foes may yet regroup, and the storm grows wild."
The warlock turned, and for a moment Kopaka thought he glimpsed the fleshless face of a stranger - but then the black flames fell away, and it was just Keldor again. Some effect of the dark energies the man had absorbed, perhaps? Or something else?
"Nyeeeehhh! Well it's about time. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me!"
He raised his staff, unleashing a blast of magic, and wall of flame sprang up between him and the darklings. It bought only a moment, but it was enough time for the Warlock to break and run.
The howl of the wind rose to a pitch so high and constant that it formed a single, ongoing, almost musical tone. Snow flew parallel to the ground, great sheets of powdered ice whipping through the air like blankets caught in a hurricane. The two Liberators charged headlong through the gale, the ice elemental calming the weather in their immediate area just enough to ease the passage of his less environmentally-attuned companion.
Snow crunched beneath their feet, but it was almost an afterthought -there was nearly as much of it in the air as on the ground. Even with the Toa's assistance, Keldor struggled, pulling his cloak tight in a nigh-futile effort to shut out the wind and the ice.
It took several minutes to reach their goal, hidden within the shadow of the mountain. When the Primes finally charged down the rocky causeway, past hastily-abandoned equipment and the wreckage of battle, it wasn't a moment too soon.
Within the blizzard, something roared, louder than the storm. A boulder the size of a cottage slammed into the ground, not twenty feet away.
"I THOUGHT YOU SAID THE PATH WAS CLEAR!" yelled Keldor.
"It was," said Kopaka, dodging around a truck half-buried within a drift "and we are within sight of our goal.
Just ahead of them stood the gate, and Weiss stood beside it, hidden from the storm within the lee of one of its massive columns.
The bionicle crossed the threshold first, unslowed by the snow and driving wind. Weiss followed him, already half-inside, and together they watched the warlock stumble after.
Beyond the gate lay a sloped tunnel, three stories high, carved deep into the mountainside and hung with strings of electric work-lamps. Their flickering yellow glow somehow made the shadows seem deeper than they would have otherwise been.
The liberators' next course of action required little debate - though there was some brief grumbling on other topics ranging from courtesy to strategy. In the end though, with weapons drawn, they descended into the tunnels beneath the mountain.
At the bottom of the ramp, they froze.
The tunnel opened up into an enormous underground space - a great hall with a vaulted ceiling that could have easily fit a moderately-sized castle inside. More lamps hung from above by raggedy electrical cables, lighting the space with terribly inadequate little pools of yellow radiance.
Covered flatbed trucks with white-tiger camouflage and snow-tires were parked to one side, in several dozen rows of three. Nearby stood a make-shift loading dock constructed of ancient stone slabs and pieces of sheet-metal - and next to that, a massive pile of white plastic crates.
In another part of the room, a small barracks had been assembled - tents, trailers, and pre-fabricated housing, buzzing with activity. Tables piled with computer-consoles and esoteric equipment were scattered seemingly at random throughout the space. A cold mist clung to the floor, swirling lazily in the currents of the stale underground air.
The remarkable thing however, the thing which drew the eye and dominated the scene, was the Throne.
It deserved the capital letter.
At the far end of the room, opposite the corridor through which they'd come, stood a massive chair, carved into the foundations of the mountain. It was easily ten stories high, and upon it sat a skeleton, equally gigantic, far larger than the giants with whom the Liberators had so recently contended. The corpse wore long, sapphire robes, embroidered with silver and tied with a violet sash. It's boots were dragon-hide, and a national treasury's worth of gold glittered on its bony fingers - gemstones the size of grown men shining in the hazy electric twilight. A rusted sword the size of a jet-airliner lay across its knees, and the scraggly, frozen ruins of a silvery beard still clung to its skeletal jaw.
Between its feet lay a metal ring, slightly smaller than the ones on its hands, standing on-end. It contained a pulsing purple window into another space, the portal adding its own otherworldly glow to the ambient aura of ancient death disturbed.
From the camp, an alarm went up. As the three Primes watched, a duo of titanic black serpents wound their way out of the outsized royal cadaver's eye-sockets, and curled around its booted feet.
As the Toa of Ice set out into the rapidly-worsening gale thunder rolled, and the clouds, hidden though they were behind curtains of tumbling snow, began to roil.
Fortunately, Keldor wasn't hard to find. Flashes of magic and fire shone even through the driving sheets of windblown ice, and the sorcerer's laughter carried on the wind.
"Nyeheheheheheheheh! Fools! Imbeciles! Still you think you can stand against my power? Persist in this idiocy and you'll end up... on ice!"
There.
The Warlock stood with his back to the bionicle, surrounded by corpses half-buried in the snow and facing down a dozen or more darklings. Tongues of black flame rose from his body.
"Keldor," the Toa called, his voice carrying unnaturally well through the frigid air, "The path is clear. Your task is complete - but we must hurry. Our foes may yet regroup, and the storm grows wild."
The warlock turned, and for a moment Kopaka thought he glimpsed the fleshless face of a stranger - but then the black flames fell away, and it was just Keldor again. Some effect of the dark energies the man had absorbed, perhaps? Or something else?
"Nyeeeehhh! Well it's about time. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me!"
He raised his staff, unleashing a blast of magic, and wall of flame sprang up between him and the darklings. It bought only a moment, but it was enough time for the Warlock to break and run.
The howl of the wind rose to a pitch so high and constant that it formed a single, ongoing, almost musical tone. Snow flew parallel to the ground, great sheets of powdered ice whipping through the air like blankets caught in a hurricane. The two Liberators charged headlong through the gale, the ice elemental calming the weather in their immediate area just enough to ease the passage of his less environmentally-attuned companion.
Snow crunched beneath their feet, but it was almost an afterthought -there was nearly as much of it in the air as on the ground. Even with the Toa's assistance, Keldor struggled, pulling his cloak tight in a nigh-futile effort to shut out the wind and the ice.
It took several minutes to reach their goal, hidden within the shadow of the mountain. When the Primes finally charged down the rocky causeway, past hastily-abandoned equipment and the wreckage of battle, it wasn't a moment too soon.
Within the blizzard, something roared, louder than the storm. A boulder the size of a cottage slammed into the ground, not twenty feet away.
"I THOUGHT YOU SAID THE PATH WAS CLEAR!" yelled Keldor.
"It was," said Kopaka, dodging around a truck half-buried within a drift "and we are within sight of our goal.
Just ahead of them stood the gate, and Weiss stood beside it, hidden from the storm within the lee of one of its massive columns.
The bionicle crossed the threshold first, unslowed by the snow and driving wind. Weiss followed him, already half-inside, and together they watched the warlock stumble after.
Beyond the gate lay a sloped tunnel, three stories high, carved deep into the mountainside and hung with strings of electric work-lamps. Their flickering yellow glow somehow made the shadows seem deeper than they would have otherwise been.
The liberators' next course of action required little debate - though there was some brief grumbling on other topics ranging from courtesy to strategy. In the end though, with weapons drawn, they descended into the tunnels beneath the mountain.
At the bottom of the ramp, they froze.
The tunnel opened up into an enormous underground space - a great hall with a vaulted ceiling that could have easily fit a moderately-sized castle inside. More lamps hung from above by raggedy electrical cables, lighting the space with terribly inadequate little pools of yellow radiance.
Covered flatbed trucks with white-tiger camouflage and snow-tires were parked to one side, in several dozen rows of three. Nearby stood a make-shift loading dock constructed of ancient stone slabs and pieces of sheet-metal - and next to that, a massive pile of white plastic crates.
In another part of the room, a small barracks had been assembled - tents, trailers, and pre-fabricated housing, buzzing with activity. Tables piled with computer-consoles and esoteric equipment were scattered seemingly at random throughout the space. A cold mist clung to the floor, swirling lazily in the currents of the stale underground air.
The remarkable thing however, the thing which drew the eye and dominated the scene, was the Throne.
It deserved the capital letter.
At the far end of the room, opposite the corridor through which they'd come, stood a massive chair, carved into the foundations of the mountain. It was easily ten stories high, and upon it sat a skeleton, equally gigantic, far larger than the giants with whom the Liberators had so recently contended. The corpse wore long, sapphire robes, embroidered with silver and tied with a violet sash. It's boots were dragon-hide, and a national treasury's worth of gold glittered on its bony fingers - gemstones the size of grown men shining in the hazy electric twilight. A rusted sword the size of a jet-airliner lay across its knees, and the scraggly, frozen ruins of a silvery beard still clung to its skeletal jaw.
Between its feet lay a metal ring, slightly smaller than the ones on its hands, standing on-end. It contained a pulsing purple window into another space, the portal adding its own otherworldly glow to the ambient aura of ancient death disturbed.
From the camp, an alarm went up. As the three Primes watched, a duo of titanic black serpents wound their way out of the outsized royal cadaver's eye-sockets, and curled around its booted feet.
Quote:Challenge complete!
Damage Report:
-- Kopaka suffers 1 damage
-- Weiss suffers 2 damage
-- Skeletor suffers 3 damage
The portal to Nebula Space awaits you. You merely have to get past the final obstacle and pass through it. You have five days and one post, up to 1000 words each, to do so. Best of luck.