To control chaos or be controlled by it. Leon refused to accept there was one single being who stood on even ground with him. The skies thickened, roaring above as they punished the city of Meridian. Chunks of stone were ripped forth from the ground and city, pummeling the terrified inhabitants without mercy. Such power was intoxicating. Light feet left the ground as Leon lifted upward, hovering in thin air. Arms swept about, mimicking the lead of an orchestra while the necromancer enacted destruction. There was a certain beauty about it, how frighteningly powerful nature could be when manipulated. Entire foundations were destroyed. Walls shook and broke apart from the deadly winds which were strong enough to cut skin if caught in it. Meridian would fall. Not today, nor tomorrow. The sole purpose of this demonstration of power was to show the difference between the Defiants and Leon. They would attempt to resist just like everyone else. Even as they worked together to create a barrier to block the storm above, one thing became evident.
There was no stopping this storm.
Pronged fingers gripped and twisted while aimed at the black clouds, slashing downward as an opening came through the obscurity. Bright green, a massive bolt of lightning shrieked all the way from the sky to the Defiant's magic barrier. With their power combined they still could not match Leon's potential, the center of their beloved city suffering a massive crater when the lightning pierced their shield. People were flung from walls and ramparts through the air, ragdolls, helpless. Many were crushed and pulverized by the explosive debris, pasted along the courtyard like a sanguine painting. Leon did not care how many people he killed. He didn't care about their lives, their stories and families. They were insignificant in the face of his quest. If they would not willingly join his army he would force them to join the undead ranks. Part of Leon wanted to see the Defiants react to his assault, for them to desperately lash out at his developing empire. War had become an insatiable thirst. If power was endless then so was his hunger. So long as there was living there could be dead. All of the dead would rise. All of the dead would serve the Mannus dominion.
"See what I've become!"
Leon roared, blonde locks lifting in the air with him. The storms merged. Tornado borders melded together until one massive twister was centralized around the Defiant capital. In the heart of the inclement they were safe, or so it seemed. Outer edges of the gust tore the ground apart around their capital, removing trees by their roots and tilling the ground up as if fresh. Before long a ring began to etch itself around the perimeter of the city, dug deep like a deadly trench. Leon was trapping them in their last bastion of defense. Their beloved home was lost inside it, obscured from the world around. On the front lines Leon's undead armies jeered and gave warcries while watching the event take place. They were insatiable, just like him. They knew no fear. They did not tire. To serve was their single purpose in this second life and they did it well. That was not all that Leon had to fight his wars with. With Gloamwood completely corrupted it had become a breeding ground for great beasts. Horrific creatures stalked the tainted forests, waiting to be unleashed, waiting to feast on the flesh of the living.
"Telara will bow to me. The Inquisition shall fall.. and my revenge will come to fruition!" Long exiled from the once prestigious order because of Pfifer, Leon held a hatred stronger than anything else. They had treated him like an outcast for consorting with an evil creature. Torn between the righteous path and the desire for power, Leon became a blank slate. Pfifer had rebuilt him, honed him and directed him. For a time he was his beloved's instrument of discord. He knew no better. For so long he wanted to crush the Inquisition for how they cast him aside and marred him with white fire. At that time he didn't possess the power to be capable. That had changed. It was an endless cycle Leon wrapped himself in. From the Inquisition, to Pfifer, to the wanton powers of chaos- he was being manipulated without even knowing it. Pulses thrummed. Not like a heartbeat, but more violent. With every occasion that Leon drew power from the chaos nexus he obliviously weathered the barrier between this world and that plane thinner than before. In his arrogance and thirst for power he had lost himself, or perhaps he was always lost.
Leon could not save anyone, for Leon could not save himself.
The winds began to calm in tandem with Leon's body slowly lowering back to the tower he perched upon. Arms came to hang at his sides when heels met the surface of the summit, locks fallen messily along his shoulders. Dissipation of the inclement left a fractured and damaged city in its wake. Bodies were scattered across the streets, some trapped under fallen pillars and wall fragments. No vegetation was bound to the ground within four hundred meters of the capital. The city had not collapsed, but the infliction upon it was enough to leave an unforgettable mark. Soon it would not matter. Soon they would all be serving among his cohorts. Even in his post surge state the necromancer stood tall, stoic and cold to the world around him. Every time Leon yanked on the tethers of chaos he felt his vessel grow even stronger. It was an addictive feeling he wanted no freedom from.
Power did not last forever, even when stolen from an infinite plane. Leon was becoming corrupted just like the lands he controlled. The image of his scarred face mirrored that of Telara. It was not the same as it was before. All of the Rifts were of death these days. No fire or water, air or life. No earth. There was only death. For this was an age of darkness and Leon the occupant of a throne too cold.
Chaos always beckoned.
There was no stopping this storm.
Pronged fingers gripped and twisted while aimed at the black clouds, slashing downward as an opening came through the obscurity. Bright green, a massive bolt of lightning shrieked all the way from the sky to the Defiant's magic barrier. With their power combined they still could not match Leon's potential, the center of their beloved city suffering a massive crater when the lightning pierced their shield. People were flung from walls and ramparts through the air, ragdolls, helpless. Many were crushed and pulverized by the explosive debris, pasted along the courtyard like a sanguine painting. Leon did not care how many people he killed. He didn't care about their lives, their stories and families. They were insignificant in the face of his quest. If they would not willingly join his army he would force them to join the undead ranks. Part of Leon wanted to see the Defiants react to his assault, for them to desperately lash out at his developing empire. War had become an insatiable thirst. If power was endless then so was his hunger. So long as there was living there could be dead. All of the dead would rise. All of the dead would serve the Mannus dominion.
"See what I've become!"
Leon roared, blonde locks lifting in the air with him. The storms merged. Tornado borders melded together until one massive twister was centralized around the Defiant capital. In the heart of the inclement they were safe, or so it seemed. Outer edges of the gust tore the ground apart around their capital, removing trees by their roots and tilling the ground up as if fresh. Before long a ring began to etch itself around the perimeter of the city, dug deep like a deadly trench. Leon was trapping them in their last bastion of defense. Their beloved home was lost inside it, obscured from the world around. On the front lines Leon's undead armies jeered and gave warcries while watching the event take place. They were insatiable, just like him. They knew no fear. They did not tire. To serve was their single purpose in this second life and they did it well. That was not all that Leon had to fight his wars with. With Gloamwood completely corrupted it had become a breeding ground for great beasts. Horrific creatures stalked the tainted forests, waiting to be unleashed, waiting to feast on the flesh of the living.
"Telara will bow to me. The Inquisition shall fall.. and my revenge will come to fruition!" Long exiled from the once prestigious order because of Pfifer, Leon held a hatred stronger than anything else. They had treated him like an outcast for consorting with an evil creature. Torn between the righteous path and the desire for power, Leon became a blank slate. Pfifer had rebuilt him, honed him and directed him. For a time he was his beloved's instrument of discord. He knew no better. For so long he wanted to crush the Inquisition for how they cast him aside and marred him with white fire. At that time he didn't possess the power to be capable. That had changed. It was an endless cycle Leon wrapped himself in. From the Inquisition, to Pfifer, to the wanton powers of chaos- he was being manipulated without even knowing it. Pulses thrummed. Not like a heartbeat, but more violent. With every occasion that Leon drew power from the chaos nexus he obliviously weathered the barrier between this world and that plane thinner than before. In his arrogance and thirst for power he had lost himself, or perhaps he was always lost.
Leon could not save anyone, for Leon could not save himself.
The winds began to calm in tandem with Leon's body slowly lowering back to the tower he perched upon. Arms came to hang at his sides when heels met the surface of the summit, locks fallen messily along his shoulders. Dissipation of the inclement left a fractured and damaged city in its wake. Bodies were scattered across the streets, some trapped under fallen pillars and wall fragments. No vegetation was bound to the ground within four hundred meters of the capital. The city had not collapsed, but the infliction upon it was enough to leave an unforgettable mark. Soon it would not matter. Soon they would all be serving among his cohorts. Even in his post surge state the necromancer stood tall, stoic and cold to the world around him. Every time Leon yanked on the tethers of chaos he felt his vessel grow even stronger. It was an addictive feeling he wanted no freedom from.
Power did not last forever, even when stolen from an infinite plane. Leon was becoming corrupted just like the lands he controlled. The image of his scarred face mirrored that of Telara. It was not the same as it was before. All of the Rifts were of death these days. No fire or water, air or life. No earth. There was only death. For this was an age of darkness and Leon the occupant of a throne too cold.
Chaos always beckoned.
Forever?
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
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The Chronicles - by deific - 07-21-2016, 07:53 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-23-2016, 12:47 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-23-2016, 04:00 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-24-2016, 06:45 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-25-2016, 12:48 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-25-2016, 12:58 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-26-2016, 01:09 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 07-30-2016, 04:08 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 08-06-2016, 12:41 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 08-09-2016, 08:56 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 08-10-2016, 08:44 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 08-11-2016, 01:02 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 09-01-2016, 05:43 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-03-2016, 11:11 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-03-2016, 01:47 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-08-2016, 03:03 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-08-2016, 09:23 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-11-2016, 01:21 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-17-2016, 04:15 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 10-31-2016, 05:27 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 02-15-2017, 08:33 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 05-13-2017, 03:35 PM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 05-26-2017, 05:55 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 05-26-2017, 07:01 AM
RE: The Chronicles - by deific - 06-10-2017, 12:37 PM