The Dark Realmz

IC Central [RPG ONLY] => "Ayenee Nexus: Where Imagination Knows No Bounds => RP Archives 2005-2019 => Topic started by: Guardian on December 06, 2014, 11:33:32 PM

Title: The destroyer reborn.
Post by: Guardian on December 06, 2014, 11:33:32 PM

Beholden to the king they walked the endless miles, fear radiating in their souls. The hearts of cowards burning thin and without force as they fled the unending wrath of his destruction and will. Long had he slumbered and yet still his name lived on echoing forth into the ageless midnight.  A small sliver of fear forever buried in the past of the darkness and light. Once they said he had been a great hero carrying the will of the gods themselves. Even the hand of darkness incarnate for he was all things and nothing. A ghost a story told around campfires to induce chills in the faint of heart. A epic told unto the ears of young men as they reached for their blades and an inevitable dance with death. Some legends though refuse to die and now on the wind like a rising storm once again his name was whispered. Now the spirits foretold the return of this ancient one in all his glory. His presence building on time and space as if it could not for a moment contain the unfathomable power which he did represent and so they fled. One and all creatures of magical decent by the thousands across Ayen fleeing their homes, their belongings. Seeking refuge from the coming storm. The legends told them. None would be left living in the wake of the wrath of the king of kings.


A chill wind would blow across the great planes, voices twisting upon its currents whispering in the ears of mortal and immortal alike. They spoke of his second coming of the will which would be unleashed, the vengeance which could not be denied. Their prattle nothing more than the disembodied ramblings of fearful spirits bringing warning to the world they had left behind. Amid this chaotic flock of spirits a deathly silence would take root as they finally fled high into the air circling in a storm as their ageless eyes beheld the world with pity and shock. The hand of death returned and the world knew not what was in store for it. Even those who fled stopped their eyes turning to the sky in shock and horror as the world seemed to tremble down to its very core, the fabric of space and time rippling in herald to his coming a beast like this they could not fathom.

Darkness, all consuming and without end the origin of the world. Long before there was light, there was only the dark. A nothingness that dominated all it is upon this foundation that the very world of man is built. The intrusion of light upon the origin shadows forcing their damnation on a world to which they never belonged. In this darkness he waited, the ageless warrior beyond time itself or mortal realization. Here he had slumbered untouched for age upon age. His body dormant but mind active as the world changed around him. Once the benevolent hand of justice, what he saw broke his heart. All of the hero's of legend, those whom had carried upon their shoulders time and time again, the fate of the land. They had all been forgotten, cast aside by those whom had once marveled at their greatness. One by one he had watched them all fade from his seclusion until only a scant few remained, clinging to life. His heart slowly broke,he realization of the futility of his existence setting in. He began to change evolve becoming something new entirely. No longer did darkness or light rule his soul. No there was no longer a sense of belonging or need to serve. There was only the world he had been denied. The memories of the man he had once been circling his subconscious mind taunting him pushing him forward.

The more they forgot the angrier he became. How could they forget those whom had laid their blood upon the soil for the world in which they lived? How could they forget those beings who stood so far above them as to eclipse the sun itself? No he could not have it, the world would pay it would change. He himself would have back every single thing his service to them had cost him and nothing would stand in his way. Forgotten never he could not be forgotten, he would not be forgotten.. Left behind the way She had done him.. no never again. That thought had puzzled him in his early days of solitude. Someone had forgotten him or had he forgotten her? Over and over that thought came to him and yet each time it would vanish like smoke through his fingers. That was what the world had taken from him, that memory and yet even now he could not recall it. There was a wall there and as his body slowly fell more and more of his power slumbering fading into the fabric of time and space it would weaken. That was why he remained waiting for that wall to fade away his own strength to ebb, it had been a dangerous game but finally it had returned to him. What the mortal coil had taken from him was as if the sun had been taken from the sky. Now he would return to the world and find it. With that resolve and his strength returned in the void eyes opened. Shinning blue eyes fierce with the sort of resolve which might shake the universe to its very foundations and with an amused laugh the ageless warrior would tare back existence itself. The void leaking into the physical realm as he took his first glorious steps onto the mortal plane.

With those steps the whispers would rise in a chorus the spirits wailing in horrified unison. Their proclamation found itself once again spoken to the realm of Ayenee as in times passed. One phrase echoed its dominance rebounding with incredible reverberation and effect. Behold the king the king of kings.  Like thunder the words echoed rebounding rolling from corner to corner baring down on the land of Ayenee with force and as the souls of the weak trembled and the mighty began to fear fire split the sky. A ghostly demonic voice filling the air as flames poured out consuming the land its roar a thing of history and a prophecy of what would come again.  The king left none living none able to tell.. The king took their heads and he sent them to hell.

The voice echoed boomed and and yet its words would never finish, it was almost as the power that was restrained behind it could be held no longer. Fire and darkness billowed out from within the void a ghostly figure walking through hell fire and brimstone and the spirits began to circle, an earthly wind taring up the ground. He would not be seen only felt as  a black plague of death fell upon the world. The physical entity like pestilence taring up everything that lived, devouring it and growing until the very soil crawled with its existence. The collective in full consciousness breathing of the land living and most of all gathering strength. It would rise high on the wind a living tornado of death as it over took the world devouring flesh and bone  whispering destruction. Foretelling only the end of days and as it split the clouds with its terrible funnel of destruction and from the fire in its core finally he would come. Five foot eight inches clad in full black armor, his stark white hair blowing wildly in the wind. Flesh seeming to crawl and breath. In one hand he carried the personification of fated justice, the fabled blade Akio. In the other a blade of pure darkness and destruction, the legendary blood blighter. Two sides of the same coin. polar opposites never to meet these blades rested in his hands brought to heel by his will alone their power his to command.

The king only smirked wicked intent stirring  behind his eyes. The entity continued to grow its storm miles wide by now and then the other whispers joined its voice. The alter entity churning wrenching at the fabric of Astral existence as it began to swirl gathering particles of Astral energy until  it too raged in image to its physical brother. The two planes beginning to tremble as if they were coming apart. The zero entity beginning to resonate from deep within the spatial construct of existence, drawing raw power from the threads themselves. Pulling them into the universal energy defying the construct of the universe. The energy of the zero entity formed a bridge between the two storms and through them the the planes which were never meant to touch. The storms raging drawing them closer and closer together until the universe itself seemed to rotate spinning in the nothingness of un-creation.  The result was a weakness in the dimensional fabric of space and time. The barrier between moments beginning to break down the threads of passed and future overlapping in a massive tangled mess.

Belgorion would only laugh as he watched. The world begin to flicker around him shifting from one instance to another over and over again. Mountains stood before him one moment only to be leveled the next. The great castle of Ayenee dominated the skyline only to become rubble a moment later, it was as if time could not decide what moment in which it existed. This world sickened him a world of tolerance and temperance where even beings of his strength were expected to hide their power. A place where weaklings dictated the norm and through some foolish thought of grander designs his own kind simply backed away ceding the world to them. Oh if they wanted to see his temperance he would shove it down their throats and pull out their hearts. Power was earned and once earned it was a idiocy not to use it. Pure nothingness would pour out into the world now as existence began trembling apart. Melding with the rumbling storm of the entity and being devoured by its presence, causing it to grow at an alarming rate until it broke into the construct itself. Taring a hole in existence leaving it to spin on the storm faster and faster as history itself flashed by moments changing from one to another in the blink of an eye, faster than the mind could follow.

In the middle of it all Belgorion just stood staring at the destruction around him uncaring. This was what power could do bring the world to its knees and this pathetic place needed a reminder of that. They would all know their place soon enough he would assure it.  The entity would begin to scream resonating on so many different energetic polarities as to charge the air its great storm splitting existence as its molecular and particle structure began to change. The energy of the planes themselves the very universe channeled through the collective as if it were a conduit and it found connection with the nothingness on the other side. A self sustaining storm of energy being born. Suspending what was Ayenee leaving it rotating sideways on its own energetic axis. The world would become one of no walls as time and space ran together in effect all instances becoming one. The past was the present as the two fought for space time conformity and only the future remained untold resting in the Guardians hands.

Beasts and powers from so many ages began to clash all around. They reacted in confusion seeking superiority in the chaos. Great titans from deep within the worlds crust long ago sealed by creation stood up facing down the world and as they did one would gesture at the king. His earthen hands seeming to beg for battle and Belgorion obliged mockingly. Taking one step forward before leaping through the diminishing fire. Akio spun in his hand as he ducked beneath the massive arm that sought to snare him. The green bladed sword splitting the beast in two pieces as gravity carried Belgorion downward in an upside down arc. His form turning to land on its feet as blood blighter came up in his other hand and he took a great leap dragging it through the falling carcass leaving it to fade into nothingness turning to ash.  He had no time for these nothings, he had come for her and her alone. This destruction the lessons he would teach this day meant nothing if he did not face her in battle, if these memories did not become clear.

Long during his slumber he had observed watched as the once ruling Darkfire dynasty had fallen to ruin. Even then a singular being pushing onward striving to save their fading existence. There she had shown herself to him. Mingling with foolish commoners tangling with their egos and arrogance. Even in that form the memory had finally broken filling his mind and  he had understood. He had not found her by accident he had followed something an object she possessed. His symbol his ankh his guardian cross, the symbol of his power. When a guardian became a man at age one hundred they were given a cross. The sign of their order and that cross unlocked their full potential it held another purpose. The artifact was given to the one who held the guardians heart and in their hands it would forge a strength for that guardian beyond anything. He had wandered why she possessed it sought the answer within himself and now he knew.

He had seen so many things in his slumber but one thing had been most valuable. He now knew where the home of his memory lay. A single step through tattered existence carried him leagues through void and time itself until he stood before a temple of origin none could possibly know. His hand falling to his side as he lay his fingers upon the earth. His hands upon the very thread and heartbeat of the land as he summoned a small bit of energy drawing the particles of this place into the stones beneath his fingers. Until the entire structure had fallen into the earth. The guardians fingers would reach deep into the soil pulling back with a black diamond curled in them. His eyes staring into its onyx surface with a hint of amusement as the very structure he had briefly beheld was reflected in the stone its particle structure absorbed and recorded in it. He placed it in side his armor, and tilted his head waiting. " Oh I always did admire good architecture .. perhaps I will make this place my out house?" He mused out loud almost as if he were speaking to a silent party.  Even as he waited the world was falling apart, dragons raged against full space fleets in the skies around him. Beings which had never drawn breath in the same era collided in final and cataclysmic battle. This was the lesson of life, change was built on the spoils of war. The path greased with blood and the king of kings would return that balance to the world. This was the world in which he thrived and yet still the entity whispered blasphemy in his ears the stone deep in his armor had a heartbeat and the collective wanted to eat it. A one track mind that parasitic colony had feed and feed he had other plans fortunately.

Title: The destroyer reborn.
Post by: Guardian on December 21, 2014, 02:03:06 PM

Fated blue eyes  fell upon the vision of intriguing shadow and yet seemed so unimpressed as if they had but fallen upon a stone upon the ground. A disinterested roll of the eyes to mark her coming. A slight frown to gather her words as they moved slowly through the mind of the guardian. Ages he had slumbered in shadow's not even a word spoken to stimulate his cortex and her words rolled off his consciousness as if they were water on the tide.  Their meanings were absorbed information dissected but their tones treated as nothing. There was no emotion in those eyes, no lust or thought of flesh.  Only a single objective which stood undaunted behind those ageless orbs that sought only to stare into her eyes seeking what lay deep within her depths.


Wind swept through the land churning up the ground as it began to tremble. The unstable axis upon which the universe now hung causing the very fabric of molecular existence to tare. Energy masses coming apart on an atomic level as they split and feel to nothing their energy released into the universe.  The very air around them would begin to bleed  and fade as darkness remained where it had once stood. The very dimension in which they now stood was coming apart like all of the others.  The point in time and space in which they existed becoming nothing but an abstract thought with no physical baring. The rotating axis becoming like a storm drawing in the loose particles of pure energy as they dispersed from solid form. A vacuum of energy forming dissolving all solid mass around them until even the ground under their feet would crumble.


The zero entity if left undeterred would dissolve into this mass manipulating it sacrificing its own mass to form a dimension of pure emptiness an energy filter as the now all encompassing mass of energy would find itself drawn into this pocket dimension compressed beyond all reason until it became a mass of particle fusion and collision. Raw potential energy pushed into a microscopic confine until it became impossibly dense.


The alter entity gathering the astral and corporeal particles of energy remaining after the destruction of ethereal essence.  In an inward spiral as it drew it into itself its own mass dispersed as the zero entity had previously only now it would be channelled on one point amplified and focused down to the tiniest of levels before being  poured with almost laser precision into the universal hohlraum, the entity had created. The result the transformation of energy into solid matter all of the energy in the universe becoming  raw physical material draining the energy from the universe itself as the artificial dimension closed off leaving only a single particle of the physical entity alone as it began to feed on more physical matter than had ever been meant to exist. The very little energy remaining from the reaction still sealed within.


The result an existence of nothingness all of the energy in the universe concentrated in one super dense mass  and sealed away from creation. This was neither void nor vacuum or space it was truly nothingness.  A substance none could truly know pre creation what the world must surely have been like before even energy itself a static or abstract world lacking even the slightest action or reaction.  This was the only true way a pure fight could exist between those of their kind. With the universe they had become accustomed to manipulating nullified.  From this moment on any actions they took would be at the expense of whatever power they possessed within their person. Their two strengths alone clashing.


This would be a double edged sword, the alter entity and zero entity had been sacrificed and with no physical matter left to feed it all that remained of the physical entity was the part of the collective which was within Belgorion's own body once this was exhausted he would no longer be able to call upon the collective.  There was also no longer a pattern of existence to manipulate thus no threads for him to pull meaning he could only manipulate the physical construct of the few objects that remained on his person as the design of his pattern manipulation meant it could not be used on the person of another directly unless they believed it could. In truth this was  going to be a true show down just the way he wanted it fact to face and blow for blow if they were struck.


There was no remorse in the guardian's  eyes not even a thought for what he had done. No he had allowed the fallacy of existence to go on long enough. Now was his time to do what must be done. Even all the magic's he had woven in his life time had been dissolved now as all they had been bound to no longer existed.  The whole time Belgorion would not have moved those words still echoing in his mind but when he responded it was with brilliant white wings that burst from his shoulders. His words carrying so much meaning and yet giving no answers.  " My heart is such an abstract thing easily forgotten apparently by my own foolish designs... The paths I walk the things of legend and yet nothing to the shame that devours my insides. You speak of corruption and yet what is truly corrupt the man who turns on the world, or the world which denies him his peace and spits on the honor he once showed?  Now I seek no path save the remembrance of a singular entity to right one wrong.  The world be damned for the price it dared ask of me for it was too great and greedy in its design. "


Heartache and sorrow so profound leaked from the guardians very pores as if in this world of nothing memories could know no confines simple thoughts having no bindings filling the air. He closed his mind off as memories threatened to betray him and yet still that sadness lingered a loneliness that was spoken not by the coldness on his face.  His fingers fell with clever quickness to the hilts of his blades as they spun in his grasp. One shinning with all that was left of justice and yet somehow tarnished. The other as black as the darkest soul evil intent radiating out from it. He looked at her for the longest moment and if she chose she might have taken the advantage of the first attack, if not  he would strike. His left arm moving outward beside him so that the blade of blood blighter was pointed behind him as he  drew Akio underneath and leaping off his back leg struck at her chest with a strike that would bring the blade forward and fan it outward attempting to drag its razor sharp edge along the sternum of the incredible dark beauty before him.


All that had once been power and legend was gone. There was only this moment this time and a clash between two warriors nothing more nothing less. Perhaps one of them had forgotten the true meaning of combat but it was doubtful for in the warriors true spirit the call to battle never died. For countless ages he had been the saviour of the mortal masses but now he had chosen a different path and this battle would determine the true fate of the world as it should be .. a battle of blood and skill.

Title: The destroyer reborn.
Post by: The End of All Light. on December 17, 2014, 04:51:22 PM

Existence. So subjective, it has no designs or patterns save for what it is imagined to be after staring at it for too long. No meaning save for what is choose to be necessitated. These rudderless universes, are not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not Gods who kill the children of these worlds. It is not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the darkness.

Eyes shone with a glittering obsidian which rivalled the most flawless of nocturnal splendours. Stars bejewelled an Orient sky, stretching beyond this world, time and the mundane dimensions that merged and extended from its metaphysical nucleus. Once a place of power, intrigue and beauty... if one brought such feeble wonderment using base descriptions of humanistic sentiment. However it was 'tainted' power, lying idle in the hands of ingrates and shattered armies of war like wasted ammunition. Sojourn, were these fated days of once a great Empire, nothing now than a slave to the past. Listlessly Ayenee's people fell to death-kneel before dead deities and feeble Overlords deeming themselves as formidable and mighty due to narcissism, self-delusion or they possessed the ability to tug at the strings of fools. That did not make them emperors let alone gods.

Long ebony spider-silk locks elegantly cascading in tempting ways over smooth silken shoulders, rivulets, shifting every so often as if coerced by sentient ghostly breath or of an animate life itself, causing ravenesque tresses to shape more to the manner of motion and hip way in fluid march. Boot-fall ethereal in every step passing what little remained other than collected dust and ruin. Taking all in, the attempting to place a logical response forth as opposed to a sarcastic one; contrite to how everything else was more than content to throw themselves into the fire's of chaos or the necrotic eddy of the void. "I have great faith in fools. At least they are consistent."

Chin rising with that famous notorious haughty fashion; not out of disrespect, perchance more to rise above sentiment. Variable directions of subtle light caught themselves upon the mirrors of her eyes behind lustrous lashes. A gaze intractably purposeful; where void-infeused energies displayed the fabled ‘Soulless One’- the misleading percolating of her primal and innate ‘quintessence’. To the fearful, the uneducated plebeians inhabiting this clump of spacial excrement,  she was the Monarch of Darkbane, ‘The Malevolent- Harbinger of Death’, the horrors and nightmares of their own evils trying to claw their way out from beneath her flesh. But to ‘others’, she so much more.  It had always come down to these precious double-edged blades which sliced through veins rendering perfection to bleed.

And thus... reaching out from the energies, unravelling them through the strands of dis-harmonic intonations and the decadence of the temple in its throngs of destruction or ‘evolution’. Responding in dulcet sultry lilt, where the words rolled from Atra’s lips in salacious sonata in retort to his rhetorical statement, "Oh I always did admire good architecture... perhaps I will make this place my out house?"  Deviously Atra's gaze diverted to the ground as a crimson smirk rolled over coquettish apertures.  "Ah!" And thus came the first of sound to be noted before words of retort followed with a purred and archaic accent in synchronisation with the physical manifestation of an appearance, "Home is where the heart is."

There was now something else in the connotation of the velveteen venom that dripped ever so cordially from that silvered tongue, while pure black eyes glanced over this warrior’s form. "Or it is just that you pursue corrupted steps upon broken paths?" Awareness extended beyond the cognisant, nor did Atra’s attention depart from the stranger. Did he have matters of interest in which to speak of or was it some grievance? Nonetheless, there were certain ‘rules’ that applied when entering the domain of another and scalpel adornments clicked against the hip of constrictive swathed leather which surmounted limbs with toile and iridescent pelage; argentation of polished silver over black only adding more contrast to that of Atra's phosphorescent splendor.

A slight smirk spoiled the smile that had dawned over perfected symmetrical horizons. Timbre and stature darkening in response to the subject, and the inkling of hints behind it suggesting boldly in which direction this interlude was venturing, hinted boldly by the inflection of husky yet feminine tones, and an accent that grated along the honeycomb to demonstrate indeed the poison within the honey. "Do you foresee the silent blackness between the stars, every hell and all the heavens?" Atra stated further solicited tones that musically entwined within the sorrowful choirs of the temple that resonated from a single ‘precious’ jewel? "Besides this, you throw upon this place, the  voids, the subliminals and dimensions reminiscent to a tantrumming child,  throwing a toy. Careless is your wrath...displaced is your nostalgia." 

Striding forwards, hypnotic in sway, body accentuated by the motion of shoulders. Mellifluous and fluid as right hand slowly unsheathed weapon, the forged sword of some ‘peculiar’ black metal that formed intricate patterns in the reflection of its lustrous surface.  Pommel fashioned in the naked form of an abysmal seraphim with sharp-edged wings in a striking pose. The 'Poison of the Black Abyss' adorned with mysterious sigils and glyphs unknown to any outsider. Specific runes summoning the essences of both darkness and malady. Branded with the 15 glyphs of death and entropy, fullycapable to extract opponents physical energies despite their shields, wards and fortitude. Soul/Essence Extraction/Voidic-Diablerie, especially lethal Voidic/shadow creatures. This unique Divine Templar Sword, an anathema on the unholy and holy alike.

Reputable was this dreaded 'holy' blade (that belonged to her father, that would ideally cause fear in most lesser creatures 'on sight'. Responding to her touch, a tingling sensation crept across the palm of her hand as fingers tightened around its pommel. The lingering essence of sorrow and pain seemed to grow and more with each passing moment; each footstep and every breath. For all the death and blood, for all the broken bones and skulls, all the bodies and souls that very blade had claimed. Miasma spiralling around limbs, greyish ribbons to decorate in death shrouds. Voices softly emerged through the ash imbued winds only just as quickly to disperse. Physically they could not harm, elementally their powers were limited to that of air and earth. But no doubt this stranger would detect these were the souls of those who had died here, slaughtered in battles.

Energies vibrated and reverberated all around, electric magnetic waves, temporal foreshocks, as if the planar barriers were toppling and time was slipping ahead or behind its normal pace, then snapping back with a substantial shockwaves.  Such a cataclysmic effect, the past and present clashing and empires fell upon the other like dominoes. Howling winds circled, whipping through the mantle of obsidian black hair billowing like a murder of Crow's in fugue. Delicate porcelain flesh revealed through the separated fabric that had merged between the swathed tourniquets of raven-black leather and gossamer silks. Ruby-lustrous apertures blossoming into a roguish leer, the corners of her flagrant mouth rising like a crescent moon within the ruptured heavens and the energies in coalesce, inate to her nature and imperial status.