Rel's Faded Glory III: Glory Reborn (FINAL UPDATE 6/22 - SHE'S DONE, BABY!!)
- Thread starter Rel
- Start date
Rel
Liquid Awesome
Thanks for the comments guys. And look for another update tomorrow (no jobs or babysitting this Friday!). Sorry, Old One, but I figure that if I can't praise you into updating your Story Hour then I'll try shaming you into it. 
Regarding this:
I agree that it was a tough choice. But Cathal was probably among the more pragmatic party members (surpassed only by Marius) and had no strong religious affiliation. If that's what it took to bring his friend out of the temple then he was willing to do it.
Regarding this:
BardStephenFox said:
I agree that it was a tough choice. But Cathal was probably among the more pragmatic party members (surpassed only by Marius) and had no strong religious affiliation. If that's what it took to bring his friend out of the temple then he was willing to do it.
Rel
Liquid Awesome
(Guess what! I'm EARLY with an update! I figured I'd go ahead and post this. Hell, I might even post another update tomorrow! It's Krazy with a K!)
The smell of blood poured into his consciousness and his eyes fluttered open to behold the glowing radiance of The Shining Lady. He felt her voice in his mind, “Rise Shieldbearer, your task is not yet done.” She hauled him to his feet and though her grip was as gentle as one might hold a child he felt that she could crush his arm to jelly if she so chose. Marcus was among the living again and all around him chaos reigned.
He saw movement across the sky as an odd, fluttering rectangle of cloth soared through the air and an explosion of fire and blood ripped across the battlefield in front of him, punctuated by a whoop of joy from the rider of the carpet. His mind struggled to get a hold on what his eyes showed him. Where did that enormous lake of blood come from?!
It seemed that answers and understanding would have to wait for another time because suddenly Lazarius was in front of him, grabbing the front of his armor and bringing his nose within inches of his face. “Listen to me Marcus! We’re all going to die here in just a few moments unless you pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you. We have to get out of here. NOW. I’m going to transform you into a big bird. When I do, grab Marius and FLY AWAY. Do. You. Understand!?”
Marcus nodded mutely. The Wizard had barely waited for his agreement before starting his incantations. In that moment Marcus realized that he hadn’t told the others what his father had told him. About BALE! “Lazarius, wait! Listen to meeeeeeeeeee…” His voice became a screech on the wind as wings sprouted and the Imperial War Wizard’s Polymorph took hold.
The others had not stood idly while this took place. Speaks had Summoned a Dire Bat and it came into being next to him awaiting the bidding of the Druid. Marius and Cathal readied themselves to receive the charge that must be coming as the mob of nearly a score of the Blood Ferals scrambled toward them from the near shore of The Lake of Blood.
Both were surprised when The Shining Lady ran right past them toward the oncoming horde of evil. She held a flaming, two-handed sword that she had summoned from nowhere and she whipped it over her head as she charged to battle in a way that suggested that she knew how to use it. She crashed into a knot of the Blood Ferals hacking through one and into a second. Then suddenly their view of her was cut off as the air solidified into a Wall of Ice. They turned to see Lazarius with his hands outstretched toward the Wall he’d called forth.
“No more time to fight! Let’s get OUT of here!”
But two of the Blood Ferals were trapped on their side of the Wall of Ice. Cathal charged one of them and his blade crackled and sizzled as he cut the creature down in a single mighty slash. The other rushed at the group but the next instant saw it riddled with javelins thrown down by Magdar’s Orcs. It oozed to the ground, its blood disconcertingly flowing back in the direction of the Lake.
Huge wings beat the air and Marcus the Eagle lifted into the sky and awkwardly fluttered over to Marius. The Imperial Explorer knew this was his only way out but still winced as the pair of huge, inexpertly wielded claws descended upon him. “Be caref…OW! Dammit!” His further expletives were lost to the sky as Marcus dragged him skyward with the beating of his giant wings.
Another explosion rocked the far side of the Wall of Ice as Rhys dropped another Fireball into the midst of the Blood Ferals fighting The Shining Lady. He knew that she was warded against such magic and hoped that the creatures of blood were not.
Speaks’ Summoned Dire Bat took his orders and swooped in to grab hold of Cathal. It lifted the Brigante from the ground like a toy and spun in the air turning south toward the nearest wall of the caldera. Speaks was close behind having assumed the form of an Eagle himself.
Lazarius decided that it was high time he too took to the air and he wove one of his last magics as he Altered himSelf, sprouting large wings from his back. He struggled into the air, noting that Rhys was maneuvering his magical carpet almost directly at him. Like he was fleeing…
The next moment showed Lazarius the cause for Rhys’ hurry. At least two score of the Blood Ferals now surrounded The Shining Lady where she fought on the edge of The Lake of Blood. Knowing that it wouldn’t win the battle for her, Lazarius still found himself trying to help her in her desperate struggle. He unleashed one of his few spells and sent a Fireball shooting into the swirling melee.
It detonated with a thunderous crash sending Blood Ferals flying in all directions. As Lazarius continued to flap his newborn wings, clawing at the sky for altitude, he saw cracks form all along the shore of the Lake. Surely his Fireball hadn’t caused that! Had it? He spared a glance below to see that Rhys had pulled Scar, the Half-Orc, aboard the Magic Carpet and now went rocketing past him screaming something about “outa heeeeeere”.
Suddenly the Wizard found his heart filled with hate. Hate and a lust for destruction that would not be sated until everyone paid for all the wrongs that had been done to…HIM.
The world spun as Lazarius forgot to fly for a moment. The ground started to rush up toward him and he focused his mind as he’d been taught. FLAP YOUR WINGS. FIGHT DOWN THE HATE. IT CLOUDS YOUR JUDGEMENT AND FOCUS. PUSH IT AWAY! And he did. He pushed out the hate forced on him by a long dead godling. He pushed it away and it seemed to concentrate into a distant pinpoint. A single black point of hatred and destruction that was focused…right in the center of the Lake.
He flew away but continued to look back at what he fled from. There was the Hate, emerging from the Lake, now a solid ball of the darkest, most otherworldly blackness he could imagine. It rose from the Lake on a thin spire of a staff. And then the swirling blood seemed to gather and rise up to push the staff upward in a pillar. A pillar that became an arm attached to a body and the body was the enormous form of Bale.
Reborn.
The smell of blood poured into his consciousness and his eyes fluttered open to behold the glowing radiance of The Shining Lady. He felt her voice in his mind, “Rise Shieldbearer, your task is not yet done.” She hauled him to his feet and though her grip was as gentle as one might hold a child he felt that she could crush his arm to jelly if she so chose. Marcus was among the living again and all around him chaos reigned.
He saw movement across the sky as an odd, fluttering rectangle of cloth soared through the air and an explosion of fire and blood ripped across the battlefield in front of him, punctuated by a whoop of joy from the rider of the carpet. His mind struggled to get a hold on what his eyes showed him. Where did that enormous lake of blood come from?!
It seemed that answers and understanding would have to wait for another time because suddenly Lazarius was in front of him, grabbing the front of his armor and bringing his nose within inches of his face. “Listen to me Marcus! We’re all going to die here in just a few moments unless you pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you. We have to get out of here. NOW. I’m going to transform you into a big bird. When I do, grab Marius and FLY AWAY. Do. You. Understand!?”
Marcus nodded mutely. The Wizard had barely waited for his agreement before starting his incantations. In that moment Marcus realized that he hadn’t told the others what his father had told him. About BALE! “Lazarius, wait! Listen to meeeeeeeeeee…” His voice became a screech on the wind as wings sprouted and the Imperial War Wizard’s Polymorph took hold.
The others had not stood idly while this took place. Speaks had Summoned a Dire Bat and it came into being next to him awaiting the bidding of the Druid. Marius and Cathal readied themselves to receive the charge that must be coming as the mob of nearly a score of the Blood Ferals scrambled toward them from the near shore of The Lake of Blood.
Both were surprised when The Shining Lady ran right past them toward the oncoming horde of evil. She held a flaming, two-handed sword that she had summoned from nowhere and she whipped it over her head as she charged to battle in a way that suggested that she knew how to use it. She crashed into a knot of the Blood Ferals hacking through one and into a second. Then suddenly their view of her was cut off as the air solidified into a Wall of Ice. They turned to see Lazarius with his hands outstretched toward the Wall he’d called forth.
“No more time to fight! Let’s get OUT of here!”
But two of the Blood Ferals were trapped on their side of the Wall of Ice. Cathal charged one of them and his blade crackled and sizzled as he cut the creature down in a single mighty slash. The other rushed at the group but the next instant saw it riddled with javelins thrown down by Magdar’s Orcs. It oozed to the ground, its blood disconcertingly flowing back in the direction of the Lake.
Huge wings beat the air and Marcus the Eagle lifted into the sky and awkwardly fluttered over to Marius. The Imperial Explorer knew this was his only way out but still winced as the pair of huge, inexpertly wielded claws descended upon him. “Be caref…OW! Dammit!” His further expletives were lost to the sky as Marcus dragged him skyward with the beating of his giant wings.
Another explosion rocked the far side of the Wall of Ice as Rhys dropped another Fireball into the midst of the Blood Ferals fighting The Shining Lady. He knew that she was warded against such magic and hoped that the creatures of blood were not.
Speaks’ Summoned Dire Bat took his orders and swooped in to grab hold of Cathal. It lifted the Brigante from the ground like a toy and spun in the air turning south toward the nearest wall of the caldera. Speaks was close behind having assumed the form of an Eagle himself.
Lazarius decided that it was high time he too took to the air and he wove one of his last magics as he Altered himSelf, sprouting large wings from his back. He struggled into the air, noting that Rhys was maneuvering his magical carpet almost directly at him. Like he was fleeing…
The next moment showed Lazarius the cause for Rhys’ hurry. At least two score of the Blood Ferals now surrounded The Shining Lady where she fought on the edge of The Lake of Blood. Knowing that it wouldn’t win the battle for her, Lazarius still found himself trying to help her in her desperate struggle. He unleashed one of his few spells and sent a Fireball shooting into the swirling melee.
It detonated with a thunderous crash sending Blood Ferals flying in all directions. As Lazarius continued to flap his newborn wings, clawing at the sky for altitude, he saw cracks form all along the shore of the Lake. Surely his Fireball hadn’t caused that! Had it? He spared a glance below to see that Rhys had pulled Scar, the Half-Orc, aboard the Magic Carpet and now went rocketing past him screaming something about “outa heeeeeere”.
Suddenly the Wizard found his heart filled with hate. Hate and a lust for destruction that would not be sated until everyone paid for all the wrongs that had been done to…HIM.
The world spun as Lazarius forgot to fly for a moment. The ground started to rush up toward him and he focused his mind as he’d been taught. FLAP YOUR WINGS. FIGHT DOWN THE HATE. IT CLOUDS YOUR JUDGEMENT AND FOCUS. PUSH IT AWAY! And he did. He pushed out the hate forced on him by a long dead godling. He pushed it away and it seemed to concentrate into a distant pinpoint. A single black point of hatred and destruction that was focused…right in the center of the Lake.
He flew away but continued to look back at what he fled from. There was the Hate, emerging from the Lake, now a solid ball of the darkest, most otherworldly blackness he could imagine. It rose from the Lake on a thin spire of a staff. And then the swirling blood seemed to gather and rise up to push the staff upward in a pillar. A pillar that became an arm attached to a body and the body was the enormous form of Bale.
Reborn.
Jon Potter
First Post
Rel said:
Is it wrong to ask for both?
Rel
Liquid Awesome
Jon Potter said:Is it wrong to ask for both?
You'll get more story for certain. As to whether it is wrong to ask for more insane gods of Hate and Destruction, at the moment the party has one more than they'd prefer already. So while not precisely wrong it might not be considered polite either.
Rel
Liquid Awesome
(Here's a short update. I might post another later today but if not then definatley by Monday.)
The cries that came from the blood-bathed throat of the reborn godling were unlike those of any infant in the history of the world. And they resonated in the minds of the mortals nearby, summoning up a desire to destroy whatever was within their reach. They felt his will to destroy the world and it threatened to become their deepest desire as well.
The wings of the party clawed at the sky, fighting for speed and altitude. The hot breath of Hate was at their backs and thoughts of Destruction clawed at the edges of their consciousness. They were not Bale’s creatures yet. Not born of the mountains that were stained by his blood. But they had drank of its waters and eaten food taken from its slopes and that was enough to allow them to hear his call to destruction if not succumb to it. Here, in this place bathed by his blood and consecrated by his brother, Bale’s voice demanded attention and obedience. All that mattered was getting beyond its reach.
But even as they struggled forward, they found themselves looking back. There, standing atop the roof of the Temple of Bane, were Ilrath, Magdar and his Orcs who had fought so valiantly to free their brethren from Bane’s corrupting grasp. They all gazed skyward, not waving or saluting, but simply looking to those they had helped to rescue when things were most bleak and hoping that they could figure out a way to save the rest of the world from the fate about to befall them. Whether it was some moderating influence from the Temple itself or their previous contact with The Shining Lady, they too appeared to be resisting the call for death and destruction.
Bale came at them, his torso glistening with muscles and sinews seemingly made from blood itself and his lower body becoming one with the Lake of Blood. He moved forward in the same manner as a slug, trailing a river of blood behind him. But he did not move at the speed of a slug. He covered the distance between the edge of the Lake of Blood and the Wall of Ice in seconds and brought the head of his Black Mace down upon the barrier.
The swath of wall that his weapon touched was erased from existence. In fact, it was so completely destroyed that those who beheld its destruction had a difficult time recalling that it had ever been there at all. On came Bale, surging forward toward the gates of his brother’s Temple. He bellowed his hateful howl into the sky and lay about himself with the Black Mace destroying flagstones by the hundreds as a small army of Ferals called from within his own blood surged around him. Those atop the Temple fell back from the edge, hopelessly looking for an escape that simply did not exist.
Then she was among them, bathing them in her light and gathering as many around her as she could. Tears streamed down the face of The Shining Lady, knowing that she could not save them all and she might not be able to save any for long. But she would try. The Shining Lady and the knot of those closest around her vanished leaving a couple handfuls of Orcs behind. An instant later a huge, bloody hand gripped the top of the Temple and Bale’s Black Mace swept them from existence.
The party heard his cry begin to fade as they cleared the top of the caldera and started to descend toward the treetops below. Each flew in a panic, going as fast as he could and none blamed those who surged ahead. Evil incarnate was at their backs and he was out of things to slay.
The cries that came from the blood-bathed throat of the reborn godling were unlike those of any infant in the history of the world. And they resonated in the minds of the mortals nearby, summoning up a desire to destroy whatever was within their reach. They felt his will to destroy the world and it threatened to become their deepest desire as well.
The wings of the party clawed at the sky, fighting for speed and altitude. The hot breath of Hate was at their backs and thoughts of Destruction clawed at the edges of their consciousness. They were not Bale’s creatures yet. Not born of the mountains that were stained by his blood. But they had drank of its waters and eaten food taken from its slopes and that was enough to allow them to hear his call to destruction if not succumb to it. Here, in this place bathed by his blood and consecrated by his brother, Bale’s voice demanded attention and obedience. All that mattered was getting beyond its reach.
But even as they struggled forward, they found themselves looking back. There, standing atop the roof of the Temple of Bane, were Ilrath, Magdar and his Orcs who had fought so valiantly to free their brethren from Bane’s corrupting grasp. They all gazed skyward, not waving or saluting, but simply looking to those they had helped to rescue when things were most bleak and hoping that they could figure out a way to save the rest of the world from the fate about to befall them. Whether it was some moderating influence from the Temple itself or their previous contact with The Shining Lady, they too appeared to be resisting the call for death and destruction.
Bale came at them, his torso glistening with muscles and sinews seemingly made from blood itself and his lower body becoming one with the Lake of Blood. He moved forward in the same manner as a slug, trailing a river of blood behind him. But he did not move at the speed of a slug. He covered the distance between the edge of the Lake of Blood and the Wall of Ice in seconds and brought the head of his Black Mace down upon the barrier.
The swath of wall that his weapon touched was erased from existence. In fact, it was so completely destroyed that those who beheld its destruction had a difficult time recalling that it had ever been there at all. On came Bale, surging forward toward the gates of his brother’s Temple. He bellowed his hateful howl into the sky and lay about himself with the Black Mace destroying flagstones by the hundreds as a small army of Ferals called from within his own blood surged around him. Those atop the Temple fell back from the edge, hopelessly looking for an escape that simply did not exist.
Then she was among them, bathing them in her light and gathering as many around her as she could. Tears streamed down the face of The Shining Lady, knowing that she could not save them all and she might not be able to save any for long. But she would try. The Shining Lady and the knot of those closest around her vanished leaving a couple handfuls of Orcs behind. An instant later a huge, bloody hand gripped the top of the Temple and Bale’s Black Mace swept them from existence.
The party heard his cry begin to fade as they cleared the top of the caldera and started to descend toward the treetops below. Each flew in a panic, going as fast as he could and none blamed those who surged ahead. Evil incarnate was at their backs and he was out of things to slay.
Similar Threads
