Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
Broccli_Head said:
Heh Heh!
More Realmsian Dragonstar goodness to come tomorrow.
Knightfall's Realmsian Dragonstar (Updated: Sept 08/10)
- Thread starter Knightfall
- Start date
Heh Heh!
More Realmsian Dragonstar goodness to come tomorrow.
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
Part Three (cont.)
Aboard the Warlock:
Thul Gulokas watched in anticipation as the Warlock moved to close the distance between it and the Victory. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to take Arassil’s ship even with her on the surface. Thul found himself unable to concentrate fully on the Victory through the glassteel windows of the bridge. The world of Toril seemed to call out to him. It seemed to dared him to try and bring under the domination of the Empire. How dare it taunt him so?
The Victory fired a barrage of torpedoes and plasma fire, which the Warlock answered in turn. It was a grand dance for dominance of the space above Toril. Gulokas knew that at the current range the damage done to both ships would be negligible. A plasma blast from the Victory slammed into the bridge’s shields, dissipating in a flash of light. The bridge’s metal walls and walkways rumbled as the shock wave of the plasma blast’s force crept through the shields but did no damage.
Again and again the two vessels traded fire, as the distance between the two slowly closed. The Victory was leading the Warlock away from the Deva Wing, hoping to give the carrier’s captain a better chance against the Firewurm and the Spider Eater. It would be to no avail. The two battle cruisers would soon capture the Deva Wing and her crew. A wounded, lone carrier was no match for a Pirate Brigade vessel.
Gulokas watched the progress of the Firewurm and the Spider Eater through a small vid-screen floating next to him on his left. They quickly moved to flank the Deva Wing without much resistance from the wounded carrier. They would offer a chance of surrender to the carrier’s captain. All would go well.
“How long until we overtake the Victory, Crewman One?” Gulokas barked out to his second-in-command.
“Less than ten minutes, sir.” Crewman One was a model of efficiency. “Less than five if we increase the engines’ burn percentage by 30%.”
“Increase the percentage by only 25%, Crewman One.” Gulokas didn’t like too over tax his ship until it was absolutely necessary. “A few minutes won’t matter. The end result is all that matters.”
“Commander!” One of the fleet management crewmen shouted out from the bridge. “The Deva Wing is gone!”
“What,” Gulokas looked at his vid-screen and saw only empty space where the carrier had been. Worse still the Firewurm and the Spider Eater were under full assault battery mode. They open fired on dead space right across from each other.
“No! Order them to stop. They’re going to destroy each other!” Thul Gulokas seethed in anger as he watched what unfolded.
* * *
Aboard the Firewurm:
Simon Bleaker, Captain of the Firewurm nearly threw his staff through the vid-screen as the transmission from the enemy carrier was cut off. How dare this insolent pup cutoff his speech? Him, a captain and sorcerer of the Dragon Brigade. Worse still the arrogant crew of the carrier began firing upon his bridge. The steel shuddered from the plasma cannon fire.
“Order all guns to fire, Crewman One!” Captain Bleaker rounded on his second-in-command, a half-troll female who stood four feet taller than her captain. “Fire! Fire all weapons! Plasma cannons, torpedo bays, ion cannons!”
“Yes sir!” The half-troll began barking out commands to the bridge crew of the Firewurm.
“Order the Spider Eater to hit that carrier with everything they’ve got! I want it a floating, smoldering pile of rubble in sixty seconds!” Captain Bleaker threw one of his ioun stones at a communications crewman sitting near him. The crewman didn’t flinch as the stone struck him squarely on the head and then began circling his head in an angled, elliptical orbit.
“They are firing along with us in full assault battery mode.” The crewman’s voice strained to be heard over the noise of the Firewurm’s weapons firing all at once.
“Sir,” the half-troll female pointed out the glassteel window of the bridge. “The carrier is disappearing. She is going ethereal!”
“Impossible,” Captain Bleaker couldn’t believe his eyes. The Deva Wing disappeared into the Ethereal Plane. Then it hit him. The two battle cruisers were now firing on each other. They were too close to miss, even without a lock.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Order the Spider Eater to stop firing.” Captain Bleaker dove behind his second-in-command’s large frame, as plasma and ion bolts fired from the Spider Eater slammed into the Firewurm.
“Too late!” Captain Bleaker’s second-in-command cried out in pain, as several torpedoes impacted the bridges weakened shields.
The glassteel windows did not hold. The bridge exploded in a ball of flame consuming half the bridge crew and sucking the rest out into the dead of space.
* * *
On the Ethereal Plane:
Commander Madden watched from the Ethereal Plane as the two Brigade battle cruisers laid waste to each other. The plan had worked, barely.
“How long can you hold us here,” Madden looked a Railer hoping the news would be good.
“Ten minutes at most,” Railer shook his head. “Not long enough to repair very much. And we won’t have a lot of energy for shields and weapons once we return the Material Plane.”
“This is unnerving,” Badier watched as the firing ceased from the two Imperial ships. “I can see right through the bulkhead like it isn’t there.”
“Don’t worry,” Railer chuckled. “It’s there. Just not for those Imperial dogs and their weapons.”
“Railer, get us as far out of range of those two ships as you can. Head for Toril’s moon. We’re going to try and use it to shield us from them. Keep us Ethereal for no more than five more minutes and send repair crews to all decks. Have them concentrate on weapons and breaches in the hull.”
“Yes sir,” Railer tapped the console in front of him. “And Commander, we were able to scavenge about a dozen torpedo warheads from the ruined torpedo bays. It’s not much but if we could find a way to use them.”
“Interesting,” Madden had another idea. “How’s the structural integrity of the hanger bays?”
“Not bad,” Railer tapped the keypads of his console again. “Structural damage is at roughly 45%. They won’t be used for bringing in our interceptors anytime soon. If there are any left out there.”
“Send a weapons crew to the hanger bays and plot your course to the moon close enough to the asteroid field so we can tractor in some of the smaller asteroids. I’m assuming the tractor beams still work?” Madden knew the specs and hoped the weapon crews could build at one before the battle cruisers caught up with them.
“Yes sir,” the dwarven spacer scratched his head in confusion. “But I don’t understand.”
“We’re going old school on these Imperial bastards, Railer.”
“If you say so, Commander.” Railer still didn’t understand but trusted in the knowledge of his commander.
“And don’t worry about Fathom Wing, Lieutenant. They can take care of themselves.” Madden looked out into the Ethereal Plane towards Toril’s moon. The planet looked like a giant round ghost through the ethereal mist. Madden dared to hope he was right.
* * *
Aboard the Warlock:
Thul Gulokas watched in anticipation as the Warlock moved to close the distance between it and the Victory. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to take Arassil’s ship even with her on the surface. Thul found himself unable to concentrate fully on the Victory through the glassteel windows of the bridge. The world of Toril seemed to call out to him. It seemed to dared him to try and bring under the domination of the Empire. How dare it taunt him so?
The Victory fired a barrage of torpedoes and plasma fire, which the Warlock answered in turn. It was a grand dance for dominance of the space above Toril. Gulokas knew that at the current range the damage done to both ships would be negligible. A plasma blast from the Victory slammed into the bridge’s shields, dissipating in a flash of light. The bridge’s metal walls and walkways rumbled as the shock wave of the plasma blast’s force crept through the shields but did no damage.
Again and again the two vessels traded fire, as the distance between the two slowly closed. The Victory was leading the Warlock away from the Deva Wing, hoping to give the carrier’s captain a better chance against the Firewurm and the Spider Eater. It would be to no avail. The two battle cruisers would soon capture the Deva Wing and her crew. A wounded, lone carrier was no match for a Pirate Brigade vessel.
Gulokas watched the progress of the Firewurm and the Spider Eater through a small vid-screen floating next to him on his left. They quickly moved to flank the Deva Wing without much resistance from the wounded carrier. They would offer a chance of surrender to the carrier’s captain. All would go well.
“How long until we overtake the Victory, Crewman One?” Gulokas barked out to his second-in-command.
“Less than ten minutes, sir.” Crewman One was a model of efficiency. “Less than five if we increase the engines’ burn percentage by 30%.”
“Increase the percentage by only 25%, Crewman One.” Gulokas didn’t like too over tax his ship until it was absolutely necessary. “A few minutes won’t matter. The end result is all that matters.”
“Commander!” One of the fleet management crewmen shouted out from the bridge. “The Deva Wing is gone!”
“What,” Gulokas looked at his vid-screen and saw only empty space where the carrier had been. Worse still the Firewurm and the Spider Eater were under full assault battery mode. They open fired on dead space right across from each other.
“No! Order them to stop. They’re going to destroy each other!” Thul Gulokas seethed in anger as he watched what unfolded.
* * *
Aboard the Firewurm:
Simon Bleaker, Captain of the Firewurm nearly threw his staff through the vid-screen as the transmission from the enemy carrier was cut off. How dare this insolent pup cutoff his speech? Him, a captain and sorcerer of the Dragon Brigade. Worse still the arrogant crew of the carrier began firing upon his bridge. The steel shuddered from the plasma cannon fire.
“Order all guns to fire, Crewman One!” Captain Bleaker rounded on his second-in-command, a half-troll female who stood four feet taller than her captain. “Fire! Fire all weapons! Plasma cannons, torpedo bays, ion cannons!”
“Yes sir!” The half-troll began barking out commands to the bridge crew of the Firewurm.
“Order the Spider Eater to hit that carrier with everything they’ve got! I want it a floating, smoldering pile of rubble in sixty seconds!” Captain Bleaker threw one of his ioun stones at a communications crewman sitting near him. The crewman didn’t flinch as the stone struck him squarely on the head and then began circling his head in an angled, elliptical orbit.
“They are firing along with us in full assault battery mode.” The crewman’s voice strained to be heard over the noise of the Firewurm’s weapons firing all at once.
“Sir,” the half-troll female pointed out the glassteel window of the bridge. “The carrier is disappearing. She is going ethereal!”
“Impossible,” Captain Bleaker couldn’t believe his eyes. The Deva Wing disappeared into the Ethereal Plane. Then it hit him. The two battle cruisers were now firing on each other. They were too close to miss, even without a lock.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Order the Spider Eater to stop firing.” Captain Bleaker dove behind his second-in-command’s large frame, as plasma and ion bolts fired from the Spider Eater slammed into the Firewurm.
“Too late!” Captain Bleaker’s second-in-command cried out in pain, as several torpedoes impacted the bridges weakened shields.
The glassteel windows did not hold. The bridge exploded in a ball of flame consuming half the bridge crew and sucking the rest out into the dead of space.
* * *
On the Ethereal Plane:
Commander Madden watched from the Ethereal Plane as the two Brigade battle cruisers laid waste to each other. The plan had worked, barely.
“How long can you hold us here,” Madden looked a Railer hoping the news would be good.
“Ten minutes at most,” Railer shook his head. “Not long enough to repair very much. And we won’t have a lot of energy for shields and weapons once we return the Material Plane.”
“This is unnerving,” Badier watched as the firing ceased from the two Imperial ships. “I can see right through the bulkhead like it isn’t there.”
“Don’t worry,” Railer chuckled. “It’s there. Just not for those Imperial dogs and their weapons.”
“Railer, get us as far out of range of those two ships as you can. Head for Toril’s moon. We’re going to try and use it to shield us from them. Keep us Ethereal for no more than five more minutes and send repair crews to all decks. Have them concentrate on weapons and breaches in the hull.”
“Yes sir,” Railer tapped the console in front of him. “And Commander, we were able to scavenge about a dozen torpedo warheads from the ruined torpedo bays. It’s not much but if we could find a way to use them.”
“Interesting,” Madden had another idea. “How’s the structural integrity of the hanger bays?”
“Not bad,” Railer tapped the keypads of his console again. “Structural damage is at roughly 45%. They won’t be used for bringing in our interceptors anytime soon. If there are any left out there.”
“Send a weapons crew to the hanger bays and plot your course to the moon close enough to the asteroid field so we can tractor in some of the smaller asteroids. I’m assuming the tractor beams still work?” Madden knew the specs and hoped the weapon crews could build at one before the battle cruisers caught up with them.
“Yes sir,” the dwarven spacer scratched his head in confusion. “But I don’t understand.”
“We’re going old school on these Imperial bastards, Railer.”
“If you say so, Commander.” Railer still didn’t understand but trusted in the knowledge of his commander.
“And don’t worry about Fathom Wing, Lieutenant. They can take care of themselves.” Madden looked out into the Ethereal Plane towards Toril’s moon. The planet looked like a giant round ghost through the ethereal mist. Madden dared to hope he was right.
* * *
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Broccli_Head
Explorer
Very cool!
Buddha the DM
Explorer
The last couple updates to the story absolutely rock!
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
Thanks guys! But wait... you haven't read anything yet. Heh!
I'm hoping to post more later tonight or tomorrow. My goal is to finish Part Three of Book Two very soon.
Cheers!
KF72
I'm hoping to post more later tonight or tomorrow. My goal is to finish Part Three of Book Two very soon.
Cheers!
KF72
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
nobodez said:
Um, well I'm only up to the halfway point of Part Three of Book Two. There will also be a Part Four and Part Five. But then sometime in the new year I will start Book Three. (No I'm not kidding), which will also have five parts.
So... you going to have to wait a while for the big finale. Although I will say the conclusion to book two will be HUGE!
Cheers!
KF72
p.s. More tomorrow.., I'm on a roll.
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Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
Part Three (cont.)
On the Warlock:
Gregory Farhand felt like his life was over and, technically, it was. The new soulmech looked at his reflection in the mirror of the quarters he had been given. It was little more than a cell with a couch, vid-screen, and table. No bed, no conveniences of any kind. It even came with two guards outside to make sure he didn’t wander around the ship unattended.
Farhand brought his arm up toward his torso, running his metallic fingers across his chest and face. The outer artificial skin was smooth to the touch. Farhand found it odd that he could still feel sensation at all. He looked at his cold, gray reflection again and hated what he saw. His people would never respect his accomplishments now. It didn’t matter if he someday became a Fleet Commander or the Head of the ISPD. Not that either of those titles would or ever could be bestowed upon him now.
He was a freak, an artificial lifeform, and an aberration against life.
“Gregory Farhand is dead,” the words rung out in his small cell-like room. The words were his voice in his head but the voice that spoke them aloud was alien to him. “I am simply Farhand now.”
Farhand the Soulmech punched the mirror in front of him shattering it into hundreds of pieces.
“Seven cycles bad luck,” it was an old proverb that he’d always been fond of reminding others of. “I don’t believe in luck anymore.”
Farhand grabbed the cloak that had been laid out for him and wrapped it around his metallic body. He was ashamed of this metal frame, as it bared no resemblance to his previous body. Once the crisis on Toril was over, he’d have a custom built body readied for him. It would look as he did, as close as he could make them design it.
Farhand tapped on the control mechanism for the door. It slid open with barely a sound. The guards came to attention outside, ready to escort him wherever he chose to go. For while he felt like a prisoner he had high enough clearance to know the truth about Thul Gulokas and the Dragon Brigade. He knew that they were the Emperors own personal group of privateers. Farhand found it amusing that Gulokas thought so highly of himself. He was little more than a brigand and a thief in the eyes of the Fleet Commanders and those few Captains, like himself, with high enough clearance to be in the know.
“Come with me,” Farhand poked his automated head out from under the hood of his cloak staring coldly at the guards as they stood in front of him. “We are going to the bridge. I must speak with Commander Gulokas about the current crisis on the planet.”
“Sir,” one of the guards shifted uneasily under his gaze. “Commander Gulokas informed us that you were restricted from certain areas of the ship until the crisis is averted. You are not allowed to go to the bridge.”
“Now you listen to me, pup,” the guard who had spoken was a human male barely out of his teens. “I am a Imperial Captain and my clearance has been authorized by the Emperor himself. You and I both know that this Pirate Brigade ship of yours secrets works under the Imperial flag. Your Commander does not have the authority to force me to remain off the bridge of this ship. In fact, he shouldn’t even be commanding this ship personally with the rank of Commander. That is what Captains are for.”
“B-but sir,” the boy looked like he was going to relieve himself in his pants. “The Warlock Aspect personally choose Commander Gulokas to lead the brigade and captain this ship. It is a special case, sir. You don’t understand. Gulokas’ word is law on this ship, not the Emperors.”
“Really,” Farhand was ready to kill this stupid guard and be done with this trivial banter. “Does that include destroying Imperial vessels, sailor?”
When Farhand had heard that Gulokas had destroyed both the Basilisk and the Scorpion in cold blood he’d been furious. Gulokas’ mission was to put down insurrections before they started and cull the rebel fleets operating in this sector. He was not supposed to be destroying Imperial vessels. Later he had learned that there had been a spy aboard the Basilisk, but that did not give Gulokas’ carte blanche to destroy both vessels. At most he should have crippled their weapons or captured them to learn more about whom the spy had been and how he’d breached security.
The sailor looked at him dumbfounded.
“That’s what I thought,” Farhand moved past the two simpleton guards and headed for the lift. “Now are you coming with me or are you just going to stand there the morons you are.”
Then the guards did something he hadn’t expected. They opened fire from behind. One of the laser blasts impacted his back. The weapon had been on stun. He was immune to the effect in his new body.
Farhand turned around glaring coldly at the two guards, their weapons trained upon him. He was seething inside but his metallic exterior showed no signs of anger.
“That was only a warning shot, Captain. Gulokas’ word is law on this ship. You will not question your place again.” The other guard spoke to him matter-of-factly. He was older than the other guard and had some dragon in him.
“Perhaps your right, sailor.” Farhand glided back towards the two men without a sound. “I’m sure the Commander has his hands full at the moment.”
Farhand was still angry but needed to get rid of these two trigger-happy lunatics as quickly as possible. He hopped his new soulmech body was up for what he was about to do. With surprising agility, Farhand rushed the two sailors knocking the half-dragon man sprawling while grabbing his weapon. The other sailor fired again, point blank. He missed. Farhand leveled the laser blaster at the Brigade sailor and fired twice. It was still on stun and the boy fell to the ground unconscious.
“Impressive body,” Farhand flexed his arms and legs. “Perhaps I’ll keep it after all.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the half-dragon snarled as he picked himself up off the deck. “Now you’re going to spend the rest of your time here, in the brig.”
The half-dragon sailor pulled out a dagger and moved toward a Comm panel on the wall.
“Oh please,” Farhand switched the weapon from stun to kill and shot the reptilian man three times. The look on the sailor's face had been priceless.
“Now that the pleasantries are over with I am going to the bridge.” Farhand tucked the blaster under his cloak, turned back down the corridor, and glided towards the lift with only the sound of his joint servos quietly humming to mark his passage.
* * *
On the Warlock:
Gregory Farhand felt like his life was over and, technically, it was. The new soulmech looked at his reflection in the mirror of the quarters he had been given. It was little more than a cell with a couch, vid-screen, and table. No bed, no conveniences of any kind. It even came with two guards outside to make sure he didn’t wander around the ship unattended.
Farhand brought his arm up toward his torso, running his metallic fingers across his chest and face. The outer artificial skin was smooth to the touch. Farhand found it odd that he could still feel sensation at all. He looked at his cold, gray reflection again and hated what he saw. His people would never respect his accomplishments now. It didn’t matter if he someday became a Fleet Commander or the Head of the ISPD. Not that either of those titles would or ever could be bestowed upon him now.
He was a freak, an artificial lifeform, and an aberration against life.
“Gregory Farhand is dead,” the words rung out in his small cell-like room. The words were his voice in his head but the voice that spoke them aloud was alien to him. “I am simply Farhand now.”
Farhand the Soulmech punched the mirror in front of him shattering it into hundreds of pieces.
“Seven cycles bad luck,” it was an old proverb that he’d always been fond of reminding others of. “I don’t believe in luck anymore.”
Farhand grabbed the cloak that had been laid out for him and wrapped it around his metallic body. He was ashamed of this metal frame, as it bared no resemblance to his previous body. Once the crisis on Toril was over, he’d have a custom built body readied for him. It would look as he did, as close as he could make them design it.
Farhand tapped on the control mechanism for the door. It slid open with barely a sound. The guards came to attention outside, ready to escort him wherever he chose to go. For while he felt like a prisoner he had high enough clearance to know the truth about Thul Gulokas and the Dragon Brigade. He knew that they were the Emperors own personal group of privateers. Farhand found it amusing that Gulokas thought so highly of himself. He was little more than a brigand and a thief in the eyes of the Fleet Commanders and those few Captains, like himself, with high enough clearance to be in the know.
“Come with me,” Farhand poked his automated head out from under the hood of his cloak staring coldly at the guards as they stood in front of him. “We are going to the bridge. I must speak with Commander Gulokas about the current crisis on the planet.”
“Sir,” one of the guards shifted uneasily under his gaze. “Commander Gulokas informed us that you were restricted from certain areas of the ship until the crisis is averted. You are not allowed to go to the bridge.”
“Now you listen to me, pup,” the guard who had spoken was a human male barely out of his teens. “I am a Imperial Captain and my clearance has been authorized by the Emperor himself. You and I both know that this Pirate Brigade ship of yours secrets works under the Imperial flag. Your Commander does not have the authority to force me to remain off the bridge of this ship. In fact, he shouldn’t even be commanding this ship personally with the rank of Commander. That is what Captains are for.”
“B-but sir,” the boy looked like he was going to relieve himself in his pants. “The Warlock Aspect personally choose Commander Gulokas to lead the brigade and captain this ship. It is a special case, sir. You don’t understand. Gulokas’ word is law on this ship, not the Emperors.”
“Really,” Farhand was ready to kill this stupid guard and be done with this trivial banter. “Does that include destroying Imperial vessels, sailor?”
When Farhand had heard that Gulokas had destroyed both the Basilisk and the Scorpion in cold blood he’d been furious. Gulokas’ mission was to put down insurrections before they started and cull the rebel fleets operating in this sector. He was not supposed to be destroying Imperial vessels. Later he had learned that there had been a spy aboard the Basilisk, but that did not give Gulokas’ carte blanche to destroy both vessels. At most he should have crippled their weapons or captured them to learn more about whom the spy had been and how he’d breached security.
The sailor looked at him dumbfounded.
“That’s what I thought,” Farhand moved past the two simpleton guards and headed for the lift. “Now are you coming with me or are you just going to stand there the morons you are.”
Then the guards did something he hadn’t expected. They opened fire from behind. One of the laser blasts impacted his back. The weapon had been on stun. He was immune to the effect in his new body.
Farhand turned around glaring coldly at the two guards, their weapons trained upon him. He was seething inside but his metallic exterior showed no signs of anger.
“That was only a warning shot, Captain. Gulokas’ word is law on this ship. You will not question your place again.” The other guard spoke to him matter-of-factly. He was older than the other guard and had some dragon in him.
“Perhaps your right, sailor.” Farhand glided back towards the two men without a sound. “I’m sure the Commander has his hands full at the moment.”
Farhand was still angry but needed to get rid of these two trigger-happy lunatics as quickly as possible. He hopped his new soulmech body was up for what he was about to do. With surprising agility, Farhand rushed the two sailors knocking the half-dragon man sprawling while grabbing his weapon. The other sailor fired again, point blank. He missed. Farhand leveled the laser blaster at the Brigade sailor and fired twice. It was still on stun and the boy fell to the ground unconscious.
“Impressive body,” Farhand flexed his arms and legs. “Perhaps I’ll keep it after all.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the half-dragon snarled as he picked himself up off the deck. “Now you’re going to spend the rest of your time here, in the brig.”
The half-dragon sailor pulled out a dagger and moved toward a Comm panel on the wall.
“Oh please,” Farhand switched the weapon from stun to kill and shot the reptilian man three times. The look on the sailor's face had been priceless.
“Now that the pleasantries are over with I am going to the bridge.” Farhand tucked the blaster under his cloak, turned back down the corridor, and glided towards the lift with only the sound of his joint servos quietly humming to mark his passage.
* * *
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Broccli_Head
Explorer
Was Farhand introduced earlier in your saga? His name sounds familiar but I can't remember where or who he was before.
Nevermind...I found him. Captain of the Centurion that was destroyed by the Sabre when it rammed the bridge....back in Book One.
Nevermind...I found him. Captain of the Centurion that was destroyed by the Sabre when it rammed the bridge....back in Book One.
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Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
Part Three (cont.)
On the planet below in Unther:
Kelemvor and Horus-Re battled across the lands of Unther, from the Black Ash Plain to the Smoking Mountains they fought – avatar versus avatar, blade against blade. Kelemvor had destroyed three of the Mulhorandi god’s avatars and had only lost one in turn. Two avatars of Tempus fought of Mulhorandi avatars of Anhur, Osiris, and Set one after another. Nearby, Tyr and Bane fought together against avatars of Isis and Sebek, while mortal warriors, in the thousands, clashed with each other on the Black Ash Plains.
It was chaos not unleashed on Toril since the Time of Troubles. Kelemvor noticed two avatars of Thoth surrounding a single besieged avatar of Gond. With a second’s thought Kelemvor switched one of his other avatars to the battlefield to block one of the Thoths’ strikes with Knowledge Keeper. Kelemvor then beheaded one of the avatars of the Mulhorandi God of Knowledge. Gond destroyed the other avatar by bringing his godly hammer, Craftmaster down upon its head.
Helm and Talos fought back to back against several unknown Aspects of the Unification Church. They weren’t Mulhorandi aspects but they were similar in dress and mannerisms. Kelemvor had this feeling of uncertainty, like he and his fellow gods were battling against the entire universe. One of the Imperial aspects put a huge longspear through both Helm and Talos. The two avatars flashed out of existence. An avatar of Bane bellowed in anger rushing the Imperial aspects. Kelemvor sent two of his own avatars to help the Black Lord.
“I will destroy you all for this outrage,” Bane’s voice carried a sound of darkness and hate across the battlefield. “None shall conquer Toril except me!”
Kelemvor wasn’t surprised by the words of the Lord of Darkness. He had long wished the position that Kelemvor now held and would be the first to take the leadership of the Faerûnian Pantheon if Kelemvor should fall.
“Beware Bane,” Kelemvor wondered if he should relinquish the mantle of leadership to Bane. After all, despite his recent death, Bane had been a god long before Kelemvor even existed as a mortal. “Hathor and Anhur move to flank you.”
“I know they’re there,” Bane answered back the thoughts of the Lord of the Dead. “You worry about yourself, Lord Kelemvor.”
Kelemvor noticed a hint of sarcasm in Bane’s thoughts, but he didn’t care. He only cared about Bane’s ability to deal out death to the Mulhorandi Gods. Kelemvor heeded Bane’s warning and reformed one of his avatar’s godly bastard swords into a spear. He launched it across the battlefield towards an avatar of Set trying to surprise one of his other avatars from behind.
The weapon skewered the Mulhorandi God of Evil just before it could thrust its plasma-touched shortspear through his other avatar. The other Kelemvor reached back pulled the spear from the dissipating mass of energy that had been the avatar of Set. In a flash that avatar transferred its sword version of Fatal ouch to the avatar that had thrown the spear version of Fatal Touch. The spear reshaped back into a bastard sword just in time to parry a blow from an unknown aspect of the Unification Church.
“You cannot win, Outlander,” the aspect spoke to him as if he were a child. “We are never ending. Destroy ten of us and ten more will take our place.”
“Then I will destroy those ten and the ten after that until the end of time,” Kelemvor would not be beaten. He had the faith of an entire world behind him. “The souls of Toril belong to the Faerûnian Pantheon and its allies.”
“You have none, Outlander!” The Imperial aspect shifted to that of Cyric, its features enraged. “Even your own gods betray you!”
“Anger is irrelevant,” Kelemvor split the Imperial aspect in two. “Death is all that matters. It takes everything eventually. Eventually it will take this Empire you all serve. Then you will serve Death.”
“Death serves the Empire, Outlander.” Kelemvor heard the dry voices of billions of dead souls.
He shifted his avatar to face this new foe. He brought up Fatal Touch in time to parry a blow from a plasma-touched scythe. He looked at the form of an Aspect of the Reaper. Its face was the rotting face of those same dead souls calling out to him.
“You shall not prevail,” the Reaper brought its scythe down across Kelemvor’s chest.
All across the world of Toril, Kelemvor’s avatars screamed in pain.
* * *
On the planet below in Unther:
Kelemvor and Horus-Re battled across the lands of Unther, from the Black Ash Plain to the Smoking Mountains they fought – avatar versus avatar, blade against blade. Kelemvor had destroyed three of the Mulhorandi god’s avatars and had only lost one in turn. Two avatars of Tempus fought of Mulhorandi avatars of Anhur, Osiris, and Set one after another. Nearby, Tyr and Bane fought together against avatars of Isis and Sebek, while mortal warriors, in the thousands, clashed with each other on the Black Ash Plains.
It was chaos not unleashed on Toril since the Time of Troubles. Kelemvor noticed two avatars of Thoth surrounding a single besieged avatar of Gond. With a second’s thought Kelemvor switched one of his other avatars to the battlefield to block one of the Thoths’ strikes with Knowledge Keeper. Kelemvor then beheaded one of the avatars of the Mulhorandi God of Knowledge. Gond destroyed the other avatar by bringing his godly hammer, Craftmaster down upon its head.
Helm and Talos fought back to back against several unknown Aspects of the Unification Church. They weren’t Mulhorandi aspects but they were similar in dress and mannerisms. Kelemvor had this feeling of uncertainty, like he and his fellow gods were battling against the entire universe. One of the Imperial aspects put a huge longspear through both Helm and Talos. The two avatars flashed out of existence. An avatar of Bane bellowed in anger rushing the Imperial aspects. Kelemvor sent two of his own avatars to help the Black Lord.
“I will destroy you all for this outrage,” Bane’s voice carried a sound of darkness and hate across the battlefield. “None shall conquer Toril except me!”
Kelemvor wasn’t surprised by the words of the Lord of Darkness. He had long wished the position that Kelemvor now held and would be the first to take the leadership of the Faerûnian Pantheon if Kelemvor should fall.
“Beware Bane,” Kelemvor wondered if he should relinquish the mantle of leadership to Bane. After all, despite his recent death, Bane had been a god long before Kelemvor even existed as a mortal. “Hathor and Anhur move to flank you.”
“I know they’re there,” Bane answered back the thoughts of the Lord of the Dead. “You worry about yourself, Lord Kelemvor.”
Kelemvor noticed a hint of sarcasm in Bane’s thoughts, but he didn’t care. He only cared about Bane’s ability to deal out death to the Mulhorandi Gods. Kelemvor heeded Bane’s warning and reformed one of his avatar’s godly bastard swords into a spear. He launched it across the battlefield towards an avatar of Set trying to surprise one of his other avatars from behind.
The weapon skewered the Mulhorandi God of Evil just before it could thrust its plasma-touched shortspear through his other avatar. The other Kelemvor reached back pulled the spear from the dissipating mass of energy that had been the avatar of Set. In a flash that avatar transferred its sword version of Fatal ouch to the avatar that had thrown the spear version of Fatal Touch. The spear reshaped back into a bastard sword just in time to parry a blow from an unknown aspect of the Unification Church.
“You cannot win, Outlander,” the aspect spoke to him as if he were a child. “We are never ending. Destroy ten of us and ten more will take our place.”
“Then I will destroy those ten and the ten after that until the end of time,” Kelemvor would not be beaten. He had the faith of an entire world behind him. “The souls of Toril belong to the Faerûnian Pantheon and its allies.”
“You have none, Outlander!” The Imperial aspect shifted to that of Cyric, its features enraged. “Even your own gods betray you!”
“Anger is irrelevant,” Kelemvor split the Imperial aspect in two. “Death is all that matters. It takes everything eventually. Eventually it will take this Empire you all serve. Then you will serve Death.”
“Death serves the Empire, Outlander.” Kelemvor heard the dry voices of billions of dead souls.
He shifted his avatar to face this new foe. He brought up Fatal Touch in time to parry a blow from a plasma-touched scythe. He looked at the form of an Aspect of the Reaper. Its face was the rotting face of those same dead souls calling out to him.
“You shall not prevail,” the Reaper brought its scythe down across Kelemvor’s chest.
All across the world of Toril, Kelemvor’s avatars screamed in pain.
* * *
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