Worst.Holy Day.Ever

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Ben
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Worst.Holy Day.Ever

Postby Ben » Sun Jul 07, 2013 6:28 pm

Erathil rose up behind the large man with the flaming sword and struck him down with his mind before bending down to pick up Quayle's sword...

He'd had visions of Erathil wielding his sword for weeks. Someone had been investigating his past, delving into his psyche and it had awoken something within him, some ability to see the past and future. As a God you could know everything that was currently happening. You could also see the past and various possible futures and originally he'd believed he was seeing the past, Erathil the High King wielding Velnashar's Kiss, but no...he'd made changes to the sword's appearance in the creation of Ruin and now he saw Erathil wielding that. It was disconcerting. He concentrated on the vision and tried to see its beginning and end. He got vague impressions of Erathil slaying someone then picking the sword up. Better make sure someone else is wielding the sword...

The grey robed figure lay dead on the floor, sword beside him, God of Tyranny standing over him and Quayle appeared striking the god with massive blasts of fire and shadow, destroying huge swathes of land for miles around. As the smoke cleared, Erathil stood unharmed holding Quayle's sword. The God of Destruction curled his lip, annoyed.

"You forget Quayle, I was a High Elf, Fire and Shadow were two of the first elements I learned how to overcome." with this the God of Tyranny struck back with a barrage of psychic energy destroying every sentient creature within a hundred miles.
Quayle just stood there and smiled. The High Elf lunged at him, striking out with the sword again and again but it just glanced off the God of Destruction until Erathil lowered the weapon.
"We fought before. When we were both mortal. Nothing you could do could harm me then and nothing has changed. Except that we're both gods of course."
"Of course. Near the cave. Do you know why I couldn't harm you?"
Quayle's smile seemed less genuine now, more a fixed grin. Damn. Erathil's eyes flashed and the scene around them dissolved to be replaced with the Realm of Faith. Erathil made straight for Danahil, slaying him in a single blow as one of his assassins had once done before turning his attention back to Quayle.
"And now that protection is gone." As he raised Quayle's sword once more the pair were joined by others: Varya, Asternia, Mektar and Larweyella now stood beside Quayle against Erathil.
"Surrender now Tyrant. You have broken the laws of the Realm. You have affected the world and killed one here. Stand down." Quayle shook his head slightly at Mektar's words, it was a noble attempt but...he hadn't even finished the thought before Mektar lay dead. This was going to be nasty.
"And unconscious people always count as willing"

Tome of Magic 6.0

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Ben
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Re: Worst.Holy Day.Ever

Postby Ben » Mon Jul 08, 2013 10:52 pm

Asternia and Larweyella danced around Erathil, appearing as a Light and Shadow elf, but otherwise identical. His...what...aunt and...half sister...identical...beautiful...about to die...

Scratch that, they were dead. Varya had been unable to protect them and now was alone. Alone if you didn't count Quayle. Which he shouldn't. Quayle disappeared back to the world, to the sun, he needed power and as he absorbed it, the sky darkened until the sun itself went out. Quayle burned with energy, now time to kick Erathil down a well...

Erathil stood atop the crystalline peninsular where two, no, three wells had met: The Colourful Isle, Brockman Isle, The Bastion of Hope, Coshwood Isle all gone now. With Quayle's sword in one hand and the Staff of the First in the other he dragged the world into the Wastes.

And was punched soundly in the face.

Quayle stood there, his whole body wreathed in fire but his hands glowing like supernovae. They were supernovae. "Burning Hands queynte!"
Erathil pulled himself up, snarling "What did you call me?"
"I called you a queynte, fuccant!" Quayle retorted, readying his hands once more.
"I'll destroy you!"
The pair fought, magic, psionic and weapon but nothing seemed to harm the other.
"I am destruction you piece of scite."
Erathil struck Quayle with the other's flaming sword, driving it against him but all it succeeded in doing was push Quayle back.
"Is that the best you can do?"
"You could do better, I suppose."
"Of course."
"I thought as much."
And Quayle felt pain for the first time in a year, looking down three points were stuck through his chest and though he tried to speak, no words came and he slumped to the ground. Looking up he saw three identical figures looking down at him with dead eyes, each with an identical sword still impaled through Quayle. Of course they had dead eyes...they were dead but there was no glimmer of recognition, nothing, they were under the thrall of Erathil. Damn, he should have dealt with them and now it was too late. A fatal mistake.
Erathil drove his sword down into Quayle's chest and all four swords flared at once, annihilating the God of Destruction.

With a gesture, Erathil destroyed the three copies of Quayle he had been controlling and smiled. Nothing could stand in his way now.
"And unconscious people always count as willing"

Tome of Magic 6.0


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