I made a beckoning gesture to my sister, who grinned again with that hellish smile and seemed to disappear in a blur lunging to where she expected me to be......
As the flames began to ignite and the fireball formed in my mouth, I saw hurling down from the skies now a streak of red light. Atrocitus. My next target. It seemed that a mere manipulation of probability really was all it took to draw together the leaders of these corps......
That's enough, Lightdancer! You are a God among insects here, why wage a war with one of them?( cut for lengthCollapse )
Within the Monarchist Camp:
Suvacel grinned as the pieces of the Lightdancer's armor began to hover and whirl around her. It would be amusing to take this and develop a device that would assure her place in perpetuity as a ruler, to be sure. But if you commanded the armor of a God, who needed ruling? With power like this in her hands, she could destroy and burn to her heart's content. She would ascend to higher spheres, would set her throne above the mountains of the Gods. All would kneel before her in the assembly of the masses across an Omniverse whose existence was confirmed by not just the sinister Shadow-woman of the Jehexaderavcal Moon but by the Lightdancers. She would be Most High, Ancient of Days, before whom all that is or would ever be would tremble.
Not a ruler, but a primordial force of destruction. The God and the Monster of primordial myth walking among mortals, now not merely God from the Machine but God empowered by the Machine.
The glowing energies cast eerie shadows as the armor was reforged and grew in size, a colossus forming. The light reflected in her eyes, now pools of eldritch and unnatural light that laughed with the mocking and baying howling of demons......
Arsharzin Hezhatin looked at the immense crater the impact of the battling godlike entities had made and then felt a familiar transformation beginning. As his eyes turned completely yellow, he cried in a voice that commanded even the attention of the Lightdancer:
Nothing can stop the Beast! The Beast is the strongest one there is!
I saw walking toward me the familiar and indeed hateful form of Zazhalanzanai, or so it would seem on the surface. Tall and monstrous looking, the dished face with its seemingly swollen features that was neither anthropoid nor simian, but some hellish thing in between. Her form, but not her voice. The voice was deep and rumbling, the speech from other stars to our own:
( cut for lengthCollapse )
I remained hovering, pondering these questions.
Xaderavcal then grasped her in a telekinetic hold that kept the Shadow-woman ramrod-straight, arms clasped against her body, legs together, and then took off in flight. Even as she did, she took a deep breath. This started easily enough as fights went, but she knew deep down that it was easier to start something like this than to end it.
It was with questions like these roiling through my head that I temporarily passed out from bloodloss on her shoulders and felt the sense of weightlessness as the Lightdancer took me to the Fortress of Eternity.
“You are just in these judgments, O Holy One, you who are and who were; for they have shed the blood of your holy people and your prophets,
and you have given them blood to drink as their due”-Revelation 16:5-6.
The Azar smiled as the combatants landed in the Citadel of the Temple, the Shadow-woman throwing a massive blow into Whateley's face and toppling him even as his brother sought to activate once more his cloak of invisibility and found the attempt unavailing.
Welcome to the Temple Azarath, O Immortals, who now enter into the realm where I live, I the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. I am the one who hung the stars themselves, who separates light from darkness! All shall kneel before me!
Whateley, rising from the thunderous impact of his body on the golden pavement, growled and then unleashed a spell from the Al-Azif, invoking the name of his dreadful father, and was gratified when the egotistical monster before him was blasted heels over head, landing on her face. Then, smiling, Whateley began to launch lightning from his fingers only to see a vast wall of black smoke absorb the lightning and then as the smoke failed the rising and angered face of the Azar absorbing a sudden blow from Deborah's fist that led to her being hurled toward the Whateley brothers, who in the event were smashed together by the impact. Grinning, the Azar then rose and prepared to unleash the Trombone again only for Whateley to grasp her leg and hurl her downward, face impacting her own citadel, causing it to jostle with the impact as the Shadow-woman began to form ribbons of darkness about the vast multi-mouthed egg-like form of the younger Whateley brother. Hundreds of mouths gnashed and spoke rumbling blasphemies in choked-up voices, but found themselves incapable of biting the darkness, which simply seemed to dissolve the teeth that sought to bite into it. As the same corrosive aspect began to work its way into the vast ropes of tentacles, the darkness then pooled on the ground and from it began to form the vast cape of the Shadow-woman and armor of gold emblazoned with a symbol the Azar did not recognize, her skin once more a light olive and her hair white with her eyes white.
The Azar then turned to Wilbur Whateley, gaping in astomishment at what was happening to his brother, and kicked him into the walls of her citadel with a sudden blow that led to him impact with a rubbery bounce that astonished her and led to him moving right back to her and throwing her against her own throne, at which point the right on her ring finger of her left hand glowed and Whateley withdrew his hand, screeching in an inhuman voice of agony. When he withdrew his hands, the Azar then willed that the very Throneroom itself began to assault the Whateley brothers, the younger's body nearly healed altogether from the corrosion-effect that had dissolved the teeth altogether in three dozen of his mouths and now screeching anew as rolling energies began to slice into him. So, too, did Wilbur. Yet both Deborah and the Shadow-woman merely proved to stumble at first and then both turned toward her, eyes unleashing waves of light that arced toward her, slicing into her armor with sufficient power to disorient her and then to halt her unleashing the rippling waves of destruction. Meanwhile, Vincent had quietly anchored his feet into the ground and prepared a specialized type of mortar to unleash a shell that gleamed and held the Azar rapt with fascination and fear, before it landed on her with a glowing brilliance that led all Azarath itself to likewise be veiled in light.
The Whateley brothers yelled now in anger at being blinded, but the Lightdancer then called to the Azar,
"Behold! The form of humanity shall be that which ends this futile struggle! All that you have done, O supposedly omnipotent one, is delay and further enhance the egoes of those beneath us, and all you have done likewise is wear yourself down to a point that you flee once more to this charnelhouse beyond space and time. No more, O egotistical Godling, shall this be done!"
Azarath itself responded with an unholy dissonant clamor that echoed from all that was or would ever be within it:
I am the Alpha and the Omega, the greatest who has ever been or will ever be. You speak of humanity? Humanity is but the maggots that swim on Putrescent Filth, we are their superiors, and to them we shall dictate!
Deborah then smiled and as the Azarath itself began to force an overpowering wave of immense force, called upon her shield and sword. As the immense clouds of the immovable object collided with the unstoppable force, Deborah spoke once more:
"Now we shall see who of us is the greater! Just as we did on that day in the desert!"
With a savage roar, the colliding forces impacted with a wave of force that caused blackness to swallow everyone in the throneroom, all save the Azar vanishing as though they had never been...........
Three days later:
The Azar of Azarath awoke and saw that in her Empire all was darkness and remained so. Once more the great immortal warlord felt an unusual feeling that would begin to become a common aspect of her life: fear. Because she knew, instinctively, that all her foes lived. The Whateley Brothers, fortunately, had all memory of their latest quest driven away, yet she, the omniscient center of many universes sought to focus on the Fortress of Eternity, a mere atom in a vast and unrelenting Omniverse, and saw nothing. For the omniscient, to discover that her power had limits made her also begin to long for something she had been told once in a dream was impossible and might even be possible: perhaps the Azar of Azarath could die, and with strange aeons, Igna of Domdaniel could be restored and gain access to all that she had once her body had altered.