Edena_of_Neith
First Post
Vecna's Catastrophe
Vecna rises in his full might.
Not the old, frail one-eyed man.
Not even the terrible lich radiating fell magic and cold.
Vecna seems to grow, towering tall, kingly, like a God himself, over the slagged battlefield.
His grim visage scours the battlefield, and men and women cringe as his gaze sweeps over them.
He raises his great arm, his staff held high.
Hundreds of massive red lightning bolts flash out of his staff into the sky.
Vecna utters Words of Power, 10th level magic, Great Words of Power not heard on Oerth since the Arcane Age.
The Oerth reels, earthquakes gripping the entire region.
The sky is suddenly filled with thunderheads, and ungodly downpours of rain smote attacker and defender alike.
The buildup of power is awesome, unlike anything felt before.
Vecna, is throwing a catastrophe (as per the rules under 10th level magic.)
Instead of throwing it on a single nation, he is throwing it on the battlefield.
The earthquake builds, and builds, until it reaches titantic proportions.
The ruined cities of the northern Wild Coast shatter apart, buildings toppling, walls crumbling, masonry and bricks smashing down.
The trees left standing wave back and forth, then topple, branches crackling and snapping as the tree slams into the earth.
The earthquake continues to build, until it reaches the incredible proportions of Fantasia (the 1940 film.)
Rocks explode out of the earth, rocket hundreds of feet into the air.
Vast regions of rock thrust up, sundering the earth apart, rising up and forming new hills.
Great cracks open in the earth, miles deep, sending hills, woodlands, and whole towns, and legions of those fighting, screaming into the depths.
The whole sky turns a vivid red, the clouds the color of blood, the lightning jagged streaks of scarlet violence.
The earthquake strikes as Vecna wills it to strike, slamming the defenders, hitting them with devastating force, overwhelming the lesser magic, overwhelming technology and magic, courage and strength.
Tanks and artillery, barricades and fortifications, crumble, smash down, go tumbling into the chasms.
Thousands of men scream as they follow.
Rocks explode out of the ground amidst the defenders, come raining down in ruin upon them.
In the Welkwood, the trees shake back and forth like a titan was shaking the ground.
By the hundreds of thousands, they topple and fall, the screams of elves crushed under them unheard amidst the tumult.
The waters of Wolly Bay roar into the great crevaces where they meet the water's edge.
Water fills the crevaces, then explodes out of them, and tidal waves surge over the defenders, surge everywhere, whelming forts, swallowing armies, scouring the land, stripping the topsoil.
Massive waterfalls are created, as the water gushes back into the crevaces, and whirlpools, where wave meets wave.
Amidst the wrack and ruin Vecna stands, unharmed, while behind him his unholy legions raise their banners in triumph, untouched, and the Shade stand behind them.
Vecna roars, in a voice that is heard for hundreds of miles:
SERVITORS. BEHOLD THE PRICE OF FOLLY.
THERE ARE NONE WHO CAN STAND AGAINST VECNA!
NONE, BE THEY MEN OR BE THEY GODS!
BOW DOWN BEFORE THE MIGHT OF VECNA.
DOWN ON YOUR KNEELS, TO BEG AND GROVEL.
DOWN!
DOWN!!!
Vecna raises his staff, and a thousand lightning bolts streak across the sky, followed by an unearthly, deafening thunder that shakes the Lortmils to the core, rocks Wolly Bay, and sends shivers throughout the entire Flanaess.
DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!
NOW!!!
Vecna rises in his full might.
Not the old, frail one-eyed man.
Not even the terrible lich radiating fell magic and cold.
Vecna seems to grow, towering tall, kingly, like a God himself, over the slagged battlefield.
His grim visage scours the battlefield, and men and women cringe as his gaze sweeps over them.
He raises his great arm, his staff held high.
Hundreds of massive red lightning bolts flash out of his staff into the sky.
Vecna utters Words of Power, 10th level magic, Great Words of Power not heard on Oerth since the Arcane Age.
The Oerth reels, earthquakes gripping the entire region.
The sky is suddenly filled with thunderheads, and ungodly downpours of rain smote attacker and defender alike.
The buildup of power is awesome, unlike anything felt before.
Vecna, is throwing a catastrophe (as per the rules under 10th level magic.)
Instead of throwing it on a single nation, he is throwing it on the battlefield.
The earthquake builds, and builds, until it reaches titantic proportions.
The ruined cities of the northern Wild Coast shatter apart, buildings toppling, walls crumbling, masonry and bricks smashing down.
The trees left standing wave back and forth, then topple, branches crackling and snapping as the tree slams into the earth.
The earthquake continues to build, until it reaches the incredible proportions of Fantasia (the 1940 film.)
Rocks explode out of the earth, rocket hundreds of feet into the air.
Vast regions of rock thrust up, sundering the earth apart, rising up and forming new hills.
Great cracks open in the earth, miles deep, sending hills, woodlands, and whole towns, and legions of those fighting, screaming into the depths.
The whole sky turns a vivid red, the clouds the color of blood, the lightning jagged streaks of scarlet violence.
The earthquake strikes as Vecna wills it to strike, slamming the defenders, hitting them with devastating force, overwhelming the lesser magic, overwhelming technology and magic, courage and strength.
Tanks and artillery, barricades and fortifications, crumble, smash down, go tumbling into the chasms.
Thousands of men scream as they follow.
Rocks explode out of the ground amidst the defenders, come raining down in ruin upon them.
In the Welkwood, the trees shake back and forth like a titan was shaking the ground.
By the hundreds of thousands, they topple and fall, the screams of elves crushed under them unheard amidst the tumult.
The waters of Wolly Bay roar into the great crevaces where they meet the water's edge.
Water fills the crevaces, then explodes out of them, and tidal waves surge over the defenders, surge everywhere, whelming forts, swallowing armies, scouring the land, stripping the topsoil.
Massive waterfalls are created, as the water gushes back into the crevaces, and whirlpools, where wave meets wave.
Amidst the wrack and ruin Vecna stands, unharmed, while behind him his unholy legions raise their banners in triumph, untouched, and the Shade stand behind them.
Vecna roars, in a voice that is heard for hundreds of miles:
SERVITORS. BEHOLD THE PRICE OF FOLLY.
THERE ARE NONE WHO CAN STAND AGAINST VECNA!
NONE, BE THEY MEN OR BE THEY GODS!
BOW DOWN BEFORE THE MIGHT OF VECNA.
DOWN ON YOUR KNEELS, TO BEG AND GROVEL.
DOWN!
DOWN!!!
Vecna raises his staff, and a thousand lightning bolts streak across the sky, followed by an unearthly, deafening thunder that shakes the Lortmils to the core, rocks Wolly Bay, and sends shivers throughout the entire Flanaess.
DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!
NOW!!!
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