In the middle regions of Val'Ghast, the conversion to the desert wasteland is already well underway, similarly to its wurm-infested neighbor, Amaranthine. Today--and the weeks to follow--will be very pivotal in the rise of what would be a new empire within the ever-changing third plane. Amias sought a new way to advance himself after aiding in the defeat of Zachariah. And how fitting would it be; a monster, ruling over an empire of the most powerful monsters in Axiom.
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Posted: Sat Jun 04, 2016 5:07 pm
So far, it had been a rather simple journey from the west coast of Val'Ghast. Most of the creatures he'd encountered were low-power dragons and arachnid creatures, beings that were already subservient to his will thanks to his training as a Wild Tamer. The occasional group leaders were able to resist his commands, but as a Pagan, making himself appear infinitely more intimidating using Glory to Me was just about as easy as breathing. So it was rather obvious that his journey so far had gone on without consequence. Unfortunately, his peaceful charade couldn't continue forever. He was quickly entering into the main portions of Val'Ghast, where Kamilla and Herod were holding up the fort as the governing forces of the region. If he could convince them to join his side and ally with him...then this conquest would be more than worthwhile. It was a tad unfortunate, but those two were just one half of the completed puzzle. The other--and much more daunting--half would be in Amaranthine. The Wurm Queen lived amidst a complex labyrinth of tunnels, spanning thousands of miles underneath the sands. It would be easy enough to convince one of the lower power wurms to bring him straight to the queen, but what use would that be if she didn't ally with him? Getting out of there would be rather frustrating afterwards if she denied his request. He would need something more before that point. Some way to increase his power and control over these creatures. Likely, it would be better for him to get this increased level of persuasion before he confronted Kamila and Herod.
He didn't have a lot of time before his plans needed to be ignited...Brydent sure chose a shitty time to disappear. This was supposed to be a two-headed conquest, using the power of the Vaet Diabolos to force their hand, lest their society fall into the sea from the combined assault of two powerhouses. Oh dear...how long had it been since Amias had visited Gloria en Valle? So much time had been spent plotting and scheming since then that he hardly remembered when his counterpart first disappeared. The pair worked with that motley crew to defeat Zachariah, where Amias had attained the God-King's black wings, and then they'd gone their separate ways for a short while. The Pagan had spent a fair bit of time within Val'Ghast after that, researching the monsters. Their migration patterns, their numbers...even their sleep cycles, if time permitted. A coerced conversation with a couple of them had even informed him of Kamilla and Herod's precise whereabouts. It appeared that their previous bout hadn't killed them; their empowerment from Zachariah seemed to have left them with a certain number of invulnerabilities. These weren't the only things he'd discovered in his time here, however. There was one other, much more interesting piece of information he'd uncovered.
...A demon. A real one. Val'Ghast had played host to some wicked entities before, but Amias had never considered the possibility that a fully-fledged demon would ever take the deserted civilization up as a potential dwelling. And what's more, his time on the continent had made him privy to the possibility that this was once a continent made for demons. A bit of an excavation voyage had led him to what appeared to be a sacrificial alter, the room itself full of information regarding Incubi, Succubi, Ekylopter, and even Lukhan. It was there that he'd discovered it; the method to bringing about the full force of his incubus powers. How to become a full demon. It was with this diabolic revelation that Amias now had two separate, large goals to accomplish while here on the continent of monsters; take over the continent and become the Emperor of Monsters, and complete his transformation into a full demon. This--like most of his grand expeditions to date--would be much more easily said than done. But the man had spent well more than enough time in deep introspection. Enough, perhaps, that he almost missed the monster arachnid to his right taking a swipe at him with a raked, armored leg. Coming out of his mental fog just in time, the pagan ducked below the swipe before extending his palm, allowing his Lyr to extend forward and clench the monster tightly. Once he was sure that its attention was fully focused on him, the fellow monster began to assert his will as a wild tamer. It didn't take long, and the creature was quickly swayed to his will. How wonderful it was, having an ability that made most combat scenarios completely irrelevant on this continent.
After sending the arachnid on its merry way, a peculiar feeling buzzed on the back of Amias' neck. That strange, sixth sense-like feeling where you know you're being watched. Thankfully, learning this didn't even take him turning around. A quick set of mental communication with his spider made him privy to the presence of a tall, armored figure standing about fifty meters behind. It would be a simple measure to displace himself right next to the being, but he figured it would be much more exciting to let this play out in an entertaining way. So, instead of confronting the man, the incubus simply continued his stroll, making sure to use his newly found ally to keep a careful watch on his pursuer. Oddly enough, the entity seemed to be matching his pace exactly. not wanting to be found. This continued for about an hour or so until the Pagan grew bored of these games.
After expending a small portion of his energy, the mysterious figure let out a surprised yowl as Amias appeared literally inches away from his face. "I see I've gotten an unexpected visitor. To what do I owe the pleasure of being stalked today?" It seemed his pursuer definitely wasn't used to being found out before; the unpreparedly defensive body language, the beads of sweat already forming on its face, whatever it was...it was definitely not ready. Upon closer inspection, Amias was able to quickly discover that this being was none other than a demon. "You seem awfully...daunted for a demon. Why is it that you're prepared to pursue me, but so unprepared for discovery?" The hooded figure leaped back, but placed one foot awkwardly behind them, forcing them to overcompensate in order to land safely.
This sudden change in momentum, however, easily made the hood fall right off their head. It was within that moment that Amias gazed upon the demon's features. Perfect, pale grey skin. Strikingly purple irises, and a stern jawline were the most prominent features of the young man. Along with his milky, golden brown hair fashioned into a peak in the front. A very modern-looking demon, for sure; likely, he was inexperienced compared to others of his kind. This observation was quickly validated as the being stumbled upon his words in response.
"W-well, I'm not really one to, uh, speak with people. I...I just kind of watch, y'know? Haha...so...what brings you to this part of the world?" Really? An attempt at idle conversation after stalking me? What a peculiar demon this was. All things considered, he didn't seem to be much of a threat, so engaging in a little idle conversation to gauge his value was actually the wisest idea here. Perhaps the boy had some information that Amias could use to his advantage?
"I've come here on matters of business. Soon, I'll be quite busy, so the time I can spend here is limited. If you've got some kind of business other than aimlessly following me, please let me know now so that I can resolve it and be on my way." It was rude, yes, but Amias didn't much care for people who couldn't get to the point. And if this man was yet another one of those, he would be dismissed without a second thought. After an annoying bit of stammering a brainstorming, the young demon retorted with one of the most interesting things Amias had ever heard from a demon's lips.
"Well, I was actually just watching. B-b-but if you want, I could...maybe I could help you?" What. The. Hell. Out of all the things a demon could have said...even if he'd said he wanted to steal, admitted it after being outed, Amias could understand. Such a thing was reasonable beyond a doubt. But a demon straight-up offering their services? No...something about this was amiss. There was absolutely no way this young man was naïve enough to offer himself up in such a way. "I-I mean...if you don't want me to..." There was an expectant, almost hopeful look in his eyes. Was this boy truly some sort of juvenile demon?
"Tell me...how long have you been on this plane, young man?" On the surface, it seemed like a pretty simple-minded question. An inquiry capable of being passed off as a facet of idle conversation. But just that answer would pave the way for so much more. So many schemes could be hatched from this boy were he inexperienced enough. Of course, he would likely be skeptical in the beginning. But the Pagan had his methods of garnering trust from others. Ones that were extremely simple to use.
"Well...I don't know the system for timekeeping on this plane, but I would estimate at least ten years." Perfect. Someone so raw and inexperienced in this plane would make a perfect sacrifice for Amias. "But...before I help you--if you want me to--can I trust you? How dangerous is your work?" More and more, this conversation seemed to be playing into the Pagan's hands like a stacked deck. There was a very simple method he had of proving himself as a demon to others of his kind. Without warning, the irises, pupil, and sclera of Amias' eyes darkened until they were pitch black, giving him those shockingly evil eyes of a pure-blooded demon.
"Look into my eyes, young man. This should serve of all the proof you need; we're on the same side. If you've no other purpose on this plane, I would certainly enjoy having you along on my next journey. If you wish, we will travel to the very heart of Val'Ghast to the abandoned city. There, we shall battle Herod and Kamilla for dominance over the region. Since you are so shortly arrived in this world, I think it would be appropriate for we demons to associate for a little while, at least, before you continue to associate yourself with the rest of this plane. Then you'll step into the world with a powerful ally behind you. Does that sound favorable?" Fancy conversational techniques and a suave attitude would likely sell the deal quickly. Not to mention his carefully timed and calculated use of Glory to Me to make himself appear more benevolent and trustworthy while saying some of the key phrases. During his brief monologue, the demon was nodding along, seemingly on-board with the idea well before Amias had finished his reasoning. "Sounds good, then? Excellent. Let's be on our way." It wouldn't be long after that the pair started some small talk as their short journey together began. The Pagan would come to know the young demon as Dagda. It was peculiar, but he remembered hearing that name somewhere before. This would remain in the back of his mind as a footnote, but not something he immediately addressed. Over the course of the next couple days, the two would travel at a steady pace through Val'Ghast, taking these opportune moments to survey the landscape and identify potential, strategic military points for later use. Even if it were just a kingdom of monsters, any rule over this region would still require outposts and constant communication to keep it safe from the onset of invasion from forces like the Red and Aramil. Though to be honest, Amias had absolutely no intention of allowing those kingdoms to remain unobserved. Both were kingdoms run by humanoid creatures, and to allow them to move freely while they were so close to his domain would be utterly foolish. Perhaps a hellgate would do the trick.
Then--after what seemed like weeks on end--the pair arrived. The well of souls located within Val'Ghast, and the domain of Kamilla and Herod, the rulers of this space. Taking them down would be by no means an easy fight, but with a demon as ally, the odds were more even than they would have been. That is, if Amias were planning to kill these particular creatures. No...Amias wanted them to obey. To make them subservient to his commands, and to the will of the Empire of Monsters he was henceforth trying to build. Though--oddly enough--the duo of powerful monsters seemed not to be here. Despite that, Dagda seemed oddly fascinated by something in front of them. By the time Amias realized his scheme--however--it was almost too late. The Wellspring of Souls, the very same pool of power that their previous foe, Zachariah, drew from. With that as a a potential, additional means of power, even that previously weak demon from before would become more than just a significant threat. As he lunged, Amias began to make a peculiar, drawing motion with his hands, lyr circling around in a number of different patterns across the room. It would take a short while for the demon to grow accustomed to the power of the souls he would absorb, so this would likely be the Pagan's only chance to do some real preparations before the battle began. How unfortunate it was, though, that his time would be cut short. "I suppose now would be as good a time as any to tell you, friend." Dagda turned as his palm extended to the pit of souls, the power already being siphoned at a frightening rate. There wouldn't be nearly as much time to prepare as the Pagan had previously anticipated; this man was already experienced in the ways of pulling the power of souls. "I'm by no means a young, naïve demon. I wasn't lying when I said that my time on Axiom was very little; I've spent a great deal of time scouring Val'Ghast to find this place and pull the power of these souls from their prison. To be honest, my search hadn't brought me nearly this far yet, but when I saw you, the pieces of the puzzle came together. Amias Nicht, the Pagan God of Nothingness, and one of the creatures on this plane responsible for killing Zachariah. He drew his power from this well, and that power made him near invulnerable, even while on the plane. It didn't take long to put two and two together; in order to kill him, you would have needed to cut off his power supply; the well would have needed a disruption, no matter how brief. I see now that you greatly damaged it in that battle, and most of the souls have escaped. But that's no matter. The power I wield now is only matched by the remaining gods lurking around this plane. And soon, even that won't be enough." While he absorbed the remaining power in the well, it seemed that the power forced him to remain tethered to the well, as though his mortal frame wasn't truly strong enough to retain the power without sustaining the link. That made things possible. Annoying, but possible.
What made things truly seem hopeless was when the other two trudged menacingly into the antechamber; Kamilla and Herod, the guardians and rulers of Val'Ghast and the well alike, had returned. They stood, wordless but angered, as the demon finished his work. Taking the chance, Amias glanced over towards the pair, his eyes turning that familiar, full-black hue once again. Telepathy was a power he'd practiced for a short while, but here and now would be the deciding factor; would this be a battle royale, or 3 vs 1? 'My name is Amias Nicht. We've met before, though you were under the influence of the god king, so I'm not sure that you remember. I came here to unite the monsters of Val'Ghast and Amaranthine to create a monster Empire capable of standing toe-to-toe with the other great nations. This demon has--however--thrown a wrench in these plans, and now threatens to destroy Val'Ghast as well as the rest of the plane. Will you ally with me, so that the three of us can destroy him?' The pair looked rather unsurprised with his telepathy. Likely, Zachariah had communicated with them in the same way before taking over their wills, likely using force instead of diplomacy. This time, however, it was Amias' turn to breathe a sigh of relief as the pair nodded and readied themselves for combat. By now, his Lyr had spread far enough, ingraining itself into the ceiling, the floor, and one particular, rather complex formation outside. The cogs were turning in the Pagan's brain, and it would likely be their only chance of felling this powerful adversary.
Lashing his hands forward like a whip, Amias was the first to attack. The tendrils of Lyr had performed their task, and were now soaring at Dagda like swirling spears. He predicted an attack like this to be rather simple to avoid; its purpose would become clear in due time. With a meager wave of his hand, Dagda batted the tendrils aside, rendering them useless for the time being. To his right, a barrage of powerful ice and blood magic from Herod forced him to move, the two monsters evidently not afraid to expend more energy to keep the fight short and sweet. Despite the sudden influx of power, it was likely that the demon was still getting used to all the strength within his body, and for a short period, that would bog him down severely. This was their only chance.
From behind, Kamilla was already attacking with some form of magnetically charged strike. If it were anything like what he'd faced last time, attacks like this were meant to attack the opponent internally instead of externally, and were much more difficult to dodge compared to regular attacks. Hopefully, this kind of skill would be useful against an enemy who had absorbed so much power from the well. Though it was likely that his internal organs were guarded by some sort of soul-driven power; the attacks would likely be more ineffective than physical strikes. 'An opponent that can negate internal damage, and outward power is much less effective...' It only took a few short moments for him to reach a decision. Though his preparations weren't exactly the greatest, it seemed that the only solution would be to hit Dagda with a skill he wouldn't be able to escape, one of immense power. So it would take a fair amount of preparation, but Amias had his plan. The most important step was to count on Kamilla and Herod being able to distract him for just a couple more minutes. Just long enough for him to 'blip' away and make a series of drawings in an area relatively far from the well. Long enough to use Glory to Me, warning all monsters within the near-immediate radius to clear out. Hopefully, they could hold out for that long.
When he ported back, it seemed he'd expended all his free time; Dagda had Herod smashed into the wall by his throat, and Kamilla wasn't much better off; demonic tendrils were restraining her, choking her to death along with her summoned familiar. Throwing out his palms, a vicious, crimson ritual circle would form in front of him with a powerful surge of Hell's energy. Sensing this overly familiar energy, Dagda turned with a surprised expression playing across his face. Normally, creatures of the third plane weren't able to access this highly restricted energy. He would quickly find--however--that this wasn't the only form of hell energy Amias could use. The pair of seeking salamanders erupted from his ritual circle, closing in on Dagda with freakish speed and power. He leaped around at an abnormal speed, Amias just barely keeping track of him while using his creations to manipulate his foe to one other spot. Once there, a pair of ritual circles, as well as a number of pentagrams, would activate simultaneously. The first skill, Godless Starlight, would activate immediately. The other two would require a little more prep work, however. A barrier of dark power would rise in a triangular shape along the lines of the pentagrams, with what appeared to be a void of hellish energy adorning the top. From this void, a near-infinite rain of dark energy would pour down upon Dagda, forcing him to constantly remain on the defensive. It wouldn't be very long until his body's adjustment to the power of the well was complete, and he would be at full power; This was Amias' only chance to seal the deal. Two chants--and a whole helluva lot of energy--later, the pair of viciously powerful skills he'd prepared before would come to life. "Vaet feuer, tekra anthak sik devol. Maret ekke lekte ankhe. Imnit lovok, zarek lovok, Ekret Lovok!" The first, a tremendous sphere of hellflames rose from the ritual circle. It would immediately begin blasting a continuous stream of hellfire at Dagda, pairing with the rain of darkness. "Krum danva, anthe kre yter krum danva. Laktor ekrut antha mertor, dissit akrem, Vaet.Ashkra!" The second, a large sphere of darkness. It would rain a much more focused, powerful stream of darkness blasts upon Dagda. With three different attacks focused on him within a concentrated area, dodging was all he could do now. Darting around with inhuman speed, Amias was ready to put the final piece into place.
With a simple use of his Lyr, the space where Dagda's foot would land next disappeared without warning. With his attention so focused on dealing with three separate assaults, the momentary distraction was more than enough; the demon was slammed down into the ground by the three blasts, the Salamanders from before having been easily dispelled on contact. It didn't take Dagda a very long time to respond, however; another flare in the well's energy allowed him to blast the attacks aside with a fair amount of effort, and as the smoke cleared, Amias noticed something important; the veil of energy that surrounded him before was much weaker, almost nonexistent. When it came to advancing the rest of his plan, it appeared that it was now or never. He had the hellgate circles prepared at both locations, but how to get Dagda to take the bait? A quick glance was all it took to notice both of the sigils glowing vibrantly on his adversary's body; all the pieces were in place.
"I'm not surprised that you survived the attack. The power you gained from the well is surely more than I anticipated. However...I think you'll find that I'm still more powerful than you, Dagda. Your body can't handle all that power. So maybe you should give this up, and let me hold onto that power for you, eh?" It was a feeble taunt, and nothing more than a conversation starter against this demon. From the start of this battle, the Pagan knew that simple taunts wouldn't be very effective at all. But at this point, he wasn't even greeted with a vocal response. Merely a shrug. It was time for him to take advantage of the situation...and Dagda's positioning. It seemed that--even after all that--the experienced demon still hadn't taken noticed of the lightly carved circles and pentagrams pressed into the ground below him. Pretending to be aggravated by the lack of response, Amias put on his best show of gritted teeth and balled fists, launching forward with an absurd amount of energy traveling into his right foot. Gearing up for a rather powerful kick, Amias' mind was swirling with calculations. With the gate at this position, and his displacement ending there...yes! Everything lined up perfectly.
Being easily able to counter, Dagda would begin his lunge forward, aiming to shatter Amias' kneecap with a concentrated, powerful jab. By the time he realized the trick, the one-person hellgate had already sprung to life, sucking him in through the floor. In that same moment, Amias vanished mid-movement using his own form of displacement.
And when they both appeared in that spot of preparation from before, the pair continued in their movements as before, with one exception. Amias had placed himself well, appearing behind the now punching Dagda, aiming his falling path right into the final setup. A powerful kick from a mage sent the Demon hurtling right into the radius of the ritual circles. Without hesitation, Amias began the chant without giving his opponent time to recover. "Akreen lavok danak, vaet ashkra, kre ekret lovok. Dik skret anthe maret. Dik skret anthe likve enkret mikret. Tikvet lovek, sibek navak lovek! Tempek Rakrent!" From the moment the chant began, Dagda could recognize the demon language being used. And from what the Pagan was saying...it didn't bode well for him. He quickly recovered and tensed his legs for a high speed launch...only to find himself locked in place. Even his energy seemed to be frozen around him, the holes in his well-given area now frozen and wide open. "It's time for you to die, Dagda. Fall before the powers that spawned you. Unholy Magic, Fallen Down!"
The resulting spell was absolutely catastrophic. Easily the largest show of power Amias had ever displayed, a viciously potent eruption of darkness and flame roared upwards into the sky, filling the entire shape of the ritual circles and pentagrams he'd prepared. The earth shook with the power of a magnitude 10 earthquake, the ground cracking and tearing far past the already wide vicinity of the spell. The skies darkened, and the air temperature heightened substantially for miles around the unleashing of the spell. With destructive power on par with Vermillion Drive at its largest vicinity, using a compressed version like this, and honing more of that destructive power to a single point? The damage would be irreparable, even to a superior creature like what Dagda was now. The holes in his veil would be his downfall.
And so, when the shaking stopped and it was finally over...the broken shell of a demon laid motionless on the ground. The battle with Kamilla and Herod had taken a surprising portion of his strength, and taking those huge hits from Amias had put him well into execution range from such a powerful spell. Without hesitation, Amias performed what was to be the last portions of the unholy ritual; he consumed the flesh of the dead demon. The immediate surge of power was satisfying, but it felt...incomplete. Likely, it would take time for his body to get completely adjusted to the changes, much like it did for Dagda's body to get used to the well's energy, though he never quite made it there. Upon death, Dagda's body seemed to return to what appeared to be its true form; a much larger head, larger horns and an armored body sheathed in black. After briefly cutting off the head--which Amias would later use to create a powerful artifact using his newly found Incubus powers...
Returning through the still open hellgate, Amias went to check up on Kamilla and Herod. "I'm glad to see you're both still alive...that's good. If you need more time to rest, that's fine, but I would like to quickly come to an accord on whether or not you'll be accepting my leadership over Val'Ghast." Honestly, it didn't take much more of a conversation; they witnessed--and felt to a very significant degree--his power. And above all other things, power spoke volumes in this realm of monsters. There were many monsters who'd witnessed him perform the frightening, hellbound super-magic, and it hadn't taken long between simple communication before his name was known throughout Val'Ghast.
Amias had spoken the language of power, and with it, brought both Kamilla and Herod under his accord. But there were other creatures on the continent who understood the significance just as well. The Wurm queen stirred in her slumber, her children growing anxious and eager to battle this newly discovered threat.
As for his spell...well, talk didn't just spread in this region. The use of the spell wasn't just visible from Nocturne; citizens of Aramil would start talking as well. And with traders moving to and fro Aramil, Kusana, and the rest of Fraxon, word of the earth-shaking pillar of fire wouldn't take very long to spread.
Energy 4475/4475 Stats 10/13 [10/15 When Flying] Equipment Gauntlets Passives
• Glory To Me Pagans are very... noble. They have the air of a King or Queen about them; even a divine. This comes from this particular ability. 'Glory To Me' is a mental allure that they constantly release from their vessel, similar to an Incubi's seduction, but weaker. Rather than seducing people, this ability fools their mind. It can make them see things that aren't real. In fact, they can even feel these things. This ability is literally impossible to ignore or break out of, but it serves little benefit other than prestige. A Pagan will often use this power to make themselves appear divine; the sun will rise behind them, their clothing will flow and shine with the breeze, they'll just seem so... God-like. They can even change their appearance using this, although it's a temporary thing. This ability can have some uses in battle, though. For example, if a Pagan is to cast a shadow over themselves, it'd make them harder to see. If they make the sun shine behind them, they can make their enemy flinch away from the overbearing light. They can also fool enemies into thinking they've struck a shield or something like that, although that sort of manipulation over reality is something that only Pagans who focus on this type of power can do.
• The Game This can only be applied to someone the Incubus has met before. Since Incubi appear simply as men, it's impossible to tell them apart from others. The moment you interact with them, they can register your desires. They'll remember you, and discover the aches and wants of your body. They'll know what sort of kinks you're into, and what type of person you like. They can use this to seduce you in person, or they can use it to manifest in your dreams. They'll send a little fraction of themselves to wherever you lay your head at night, and corrupt your body with their touch. When a victim is stronger and more able to resist them, they'll stick to beautiful and elated imagery to keep you hooked on your fantasy world. Timid and fearful victims will often be tormented with their desires, controlled by them rather than gifted them.
When a victim is truly infatuated with their fantasies, or crippled into submission by them, the Incubus has the power to manifest their spirit completely. They will then loom over them, and please their bodies however they want. This is most often used simply for the personal satisfaction of an Incubus, but can also be used for assassination purposes; ie, if the Incubus has reason to kill the target he's seduced, he will. The Incubi cannot use this ability to teleport to people while in combat, or to teleport to people who are in combat. The opponent will not suddenly be alarmed by the Incubi, but worked into it. They'll know they're coming, and will eagerly await them.
Somehow, it always seems to turn out like this. Even in my early days, the rise and fall of great powers seemed to be something you could look out the window and see, as though every day was just another rollercoaster for power. See...when I was a young man, which I do of course say subjectively, I was just a greenhorn. We all were, to be honest. Sariel, Amala, Genesis...even me. The Pagans of the era...we were powerful, nearly limitless in our prime. Most of the creatures that exist in Axiom even now would pale in comparison to the near limitless strength we possessed. Back when we were the only things standing between the humans and monsters. Back when we were the defenders, the protectors of all sentient life on Axiom. The humans gladly took our services of protection, and in return, they offered us power; their worship and admiration was a nigh-infinite pool of strength for my kind. The humans loved us. The humans feared us. In my day, i was known as one of the most bloodthirsty Pagans of all...would you believe that? Me, the Great Dayfly, one of the most powerful and prodigious Pagans of all time? I guess that explains why I'm still alive. My battles with Amala and Genesis were awe-inspiring; I still find the irony tangible in the whole situation, the Pagan God of Nothingness at a stalemate with the Pagan God of Beginnings. At that time, our powers were at their peak, with each battle requiring much more than a simple redrawing of the maps. We scarred landscapes, upended mountains, and even split the oceans around us. Human worship made us strong, it made us limitless; I'll never forget the obscene power we once held between us.
Of course...all good things come to an end. The first time the darkness showed itself, we thought little of it. Just a bunch of dark clouds passing over. Never mind the fact that they were larger than all of what would become 'Nocturne'. Though to be honest, I wasn't as concerned with my home territory at the time; I was busy doing battle with the southerners. A particular morsel--Lensley was his name, I believe?--seemed to take an interest in my abilities. I daresay the man copied me! Such nerve. But, I digress. By the time I returned to my country, I found that my power had already waned, even if only a little. This strange phenomenon in the sky had brought about a strange new kind of monster with it; a species called demons. Even with my power, I found it quite difficult to stand against them. Some of the weaker Pagans were forced to retreat to the south, where they were murdered in cold blood by the already reigning humans. Those of us with enough power stayed as long as we could, though even Achaemid was forced to retreat eventually. My abilities in particular made me much more difficult to kill than the others; as such, the followers I had actually began increasing again, even in those dark times. With powers that now surpassed all others, I was able to retain my country, and seize control of the capitol of what is now called 'Nocturne'; Vas Kaham.
Before that wretched man cast Vaet Nocturnum over the whole damn place, my rule was going as smoothly as silk. We had the demons on the defensive, and pushing them back to hell was actually starting to work. But even that was short-lived. When HE came back...Azazel. By some work of fate, he'd become something I'd never seen before. A creature of physical prowess far surpassing the demons of the time, with the technological ingenuity of the human he'd once been. Azazel and I came to do battle, and it didn't take very long for me to realize I'd been bested. Now...it's taken a long time for me to come to terms with my foolish pride, to admit that it's a part of me that will never completely leave. And yet, to this day I haven't forgotten the utter shame I felt on that day. To have everything in front of me on a silver platter, a feast fit for an emperor. Imagine it. You've made the entire feast, spent days--no--years in the mess hall throwing together every ingredient you possibly could. Sure, you've got hundreds of other chefs pushing and shoving, but somehow you manage to get the best ingredients in the highest quantities. So you're at the top of the world, and you make this feast absolutely fit for a god. Yeah...it feels amazing, making all that food and then getting to watch while someone else eats it. For CENTURIES, I established my power. I built a solid foundation of strength, and advanced my abilities to what I believed to be near-infinite. And yet I was dethroned so easily. Fate had decided I wasn't worthy of that divine steppe, that I was to serve. And so on that day, I made the most embarrassing choice I've ever had to make.
I, Amias Nicht, the strongest Pagan in the world, bent the knee.
I was humiliated beyond repair. Before long, the humans were simply fodder without their protector in power; the vampires devoured nearly all of them, and one fell swoop, all my power with them. They saw me as a stain, a weakling that required the sustenance of worship to be powerful. For years, I endured their taunts, their jeers, and their abuse. I was made to be a laughing stock and a living testimonial to all other Pagans alive. When they discovered my...immunities, they would try all kinds of methods of killing me. Burning at the stake, drowning, shooting, impalement...you name it. Obviously, none of it worked, but being put on public display as a torture doll wasn't exactly the most prideful thing in Axiom. I would hand on the pyre for hours, the fire burning away at my body with no visible results. Naturally--given that it was symbolic for the time--I would have all sorts of thrown rubble and dirt across my body, coming from all sorts of sources. Fruits, vegetables, soups...you name it, I've probably been coated in it. But regardless of the circumstances...I kept my head low, I suppressed the monster within me to save my skin. And honestly...that hurt more than anything else, at first. To know that I was something much more than I was made out to be, and to have to conform to a limited version of myself to keep my life intact was even more humiliating than anything else I endured while in the 'care' of Azazel. It remained like this for a very long time.
Until Eklyopter. The second of the long chain of men who I came to bend the knee to. After the death of Azazel at the hands of his own men, there seemed to be something of a power vacuum. Coming from the south, Elkyopter brought an ultimatum with him to Nocturne; unite or die. With those particular abilities of his, the man had little difficulty uniting the nation under his feet, a quality I was always quite jealous of. Furthermore, in terms of combat abilities...he was monstrous. To this day, I can hardly say that many could fare well against Eklyopter in single combat. To say he was one of the greatest warriors of all time would be a vast understatement of the truth; likely, he was either the best, or damn close. However, his message of unity within Nocturne didn't seem to apply to Pagans, as I was unceremoniously appointed to be his...housekeeper. Using my abilities, my sole purpose for the next century was merely to eliminate any rubbish, dust, or debris from his home. As I didn't require sleep, my liege established this as a full-day duty, every single day. I can say without hesitation, it was the longest century I've ever experienced. That was--of course--until his untimely downfall at the hands of House Naxos, some of the most conniving, evil bastards I've ever met. Particularly, Adra Naxos, the head of the house and the leader of Nocturne. More often than not, he and I would bump heads. Naturally, I was relieved of my duties as housekeeper, as the man had...other uses for a man of my abilities.
I was never truly fond of assassination. And yet, it always seemed that I got involved in the things I didn't want to do. There I was, in the middle of Yuran, under orders to guard Lord Dagon Naxos, and ensure that no counter-attempts of assassination were made on the lord. And so, I waited on him day and night; fetching him water, alcohol--having the latter thrown back at me more times than one--and tending to just about every other need he had until he ascended to the throne and received his kingsguard. Like most other members of House Naxos, Dagon was particularly foul, reeked of alcohol, and was incorrigible when it came to most any common sense-related topics of discussion. Serving him was likely one of the worst experiences I've ever had...and with a story like mine, I'm sure you can understand the weight of that statement. And yet...somehow, the worst was yet to come.
Upon returning to my post in Nocturne, I was chosen for a 'specific task'. Little did I know, word of my abilities and their inner-workings had spread to King Adra. He was apparently so intrigued that the king decided to test it for himself. And really, in quite an unceremonious way, too. I was marched to the center stage in front of a gigantic, cheering crowd. At first, I figured I was going to perform some forms of magic tricks; disappearing and reappearing objects was a fundamental portion of my abilities, and definitely enough to appease the general populace. It was at that moment, however, that the clean slice of a sword removed my head from my body. Thankfully, the abilities I possessed at the time allowed me to quite easily survive the surprise attack; .but when my head regrew, it took every last cell in my body to keep me from slaughtering the crowd. They were playing with it. Throwing it around like a ball, playing one-thousand-person-catch...with my former head. Playing around with a piece of me as though I were nothing more than street trash. I can tell you this. If I had blood in my body, it would have been bubbling out of my veins. It was at this point, I knew; I was nothing. I was nothing more than a toy to these people. A freak you stand in line for at the circus, just to point and laugh at. Any place I'd once had in the world had gone.
I had gone from near-godhood to being the laughingstock of a nation. Never in my life had I felt such shame. Not even when I swore fealty to the first monster to sit in MY throne.
See...back then, I didn't realize just how much damage had already been done. Vaet Nocturnum had already taken quite a toll on the human population by the time Azazel came around to take the throne. If I had been at my full power, with the full might of my worshippers behind me, it's likely that Nocturne would never have left my rule. I could have recruited more followers from the south, and eventually gained the power to smash the darkness above with merely a thought. I could have been a GOD. For all the good the gods have done me. But I suppose, even the gods couldn't have stopped the evil that came to our world next. It was a single man, and yet he was such a blight on the world that I still remember his name and face to this very day, in picture perfect quality. Though...I suppose seventeen years really doesn't make that much of a difference when you're stacking it up to someone like me. Someone as old as Axiom itself. But this young fellow, this Fenrir Graveheart, was beyond normal comprehension. Through some form of ritual or abuse, I'm sure, he managed to increase his power to a degree that no other mortal was capable of contesting at the time. If I recall, it took a particularly crass woman, sporting the power of three sins, to finally finish him off. Though, I can't necessarily speak much of his rule over Nocturne. Unlike many of the kings that came before him, the man rarely spoke to me, let alone acknowledged my presence. In this, I can be thankful; I'd rather be ignored than made a fool of.
After Fenrir came another modest king by the name of Srin. Really, this was when the world had started to settle down, and I was able to repress that oh-so-bloodthirsty side of myself with more precision than before. Despite my internal urges, I had formed myself into the perfect, emotionless servant. Unfortunately, it wasn't long until Srin was killed, and I was forced to test my visage on another king; Alistair Maric. I'm sure you know him, the king-turned-god of Nocturne. In his early days, Alistair was harsh, dismissing my usefulness before hardly speaking to me. It took a long time under his rule to finally gain some credence from him, though I daresay all that work was for naught; between Zachariah usurping the throne and his resurgence, I was hardly able to increase my might at all before the Hybrid King became the God of Contracts. Though I suppose that's my axe to grind, a punishment for my laziness.
Now, Nocturne lies in chaos. The power vacuum left by Alistair's disappearance has caused something of a civil war, with each side vying for unchallenged power and control of the country. If my attentions weren't so focused on the struggle in the east...well, I may have been there myself if that were the case. it seems as though I've bored you with a lot of deep introspection, however. But, there is something to be said in all of this.
It's always a good idea to look behind you before falling; at least then, you can think about everywhere you've been on the way down.
After another successful training exercise, Amias had decided it was time to return to Kamilla and report his successes on the field. Every day, the army inched closer and closer to perfection; the man suspected that even now, they would be able to pose a solid threat to the Wurms with their combined might. At this point, they were honestly just waiting on the signal from Akeem, in that their human and monster armies would merge into a military force beyond compare. Using this brave army, they would smash through the ranks of the wurms, kill the wurm queen, and set their sights on Geshan. Though the plan was hatched just a short year ago, the group had made incredible strides when it came to preparing their military for the optimal style of fighting; MMC was their abbreviation for Mounted Monster Combat. Amias--being a Dragoon--was able to demonstrate many of the perks associated with MMC using his incredible synergy with Omnath. In the beginning, he wowed his spectators by pulling off unrealistic feats with dragon and spear, though it didn't take long for his brightest of students to catch on to the ideas. Though it had been a long time since the demon functioned like this...it almost felt like his days as a Pagan.
Though he never did teach them to fight with magic, only with martial weapons. This coalition would use a glorious mixed bag of it all; magic, summons, monsters, weapons, stealth...the variety of humans and monsters within the army was set to create an ever-evolving combat force. They were in the best possible scenario right now; the three of them just had to give the order to march, and Amaranthine would burn. Geshan, however, was another story. It hadn't taken long for word to reach them--or rather, for Dominus to fly over them--about what happened to Dominus in his battle in Geshan. Though the exact details of their struggle were unknown, it was concerning enough that the god-beast hadn't come back for round two. At the thought of Dominus, Amias couldn't help but grin; his presence was proof enough that yet another one of 'that' group was at the bottom of the ocean. It seemed that all his former allies had ascended to godhood when he wasn't looking. Truth be told, it frustrated him to no end, but he wouldn't comment on it. Instead, he looked upon the temple where Kamilla and Herod had chosen as their roost. The structure had been partially buried by countless sandstorms, and as such, Amias needed to duck his head to enter through the partial doorway. Unless he wanted to waste his stamina and teleport, of course.
"Amias, your timing is impeccable. We were just about to call for you." The metallic voice of Kamilla was distinct and unmistakable; it vibrated in his ears, as though someone had just smashed a base drum. But...they were about to call for him? Very rarely had either one of them taken time out of their day to request his presence specifically; normally, it was some sort of lower-ranking monster that they would just end up eating for sustenance. Few and far between were the times when he himself was called to this space. "There are some final preparations we must make before we're ready to move on Amaranthine. As you know, the Wurm Queen has already dug herself a nice hole to live in, one that's impossibly deep. The hole will be closer to the center of this world, and as such, it will be extremely hot. Over the next few days, Herod will be creating a simulation of this effect with his fire magic." As soon as the metallic whispers ended, Amias would open his mouth to speak; Kamilla rose her pointer finger to silence him, as she wasn't done speaking quite yet. "You may be wondering why I've called you here to explain such a simple thing. And to be honest...I felt like you deserved a break." For the first time since they'd been working together, Kamilla gave him a sly, conniving sort of grin. "But...this isn't the kind of break you were expecting. You see...after you go and inform the Heads of Hierarchies about this special regimen, you'll be dismissed from the ranks of Val'Ghast, and hereby banished from the region." Again, Amias opened his mouth to speak. However, it was a suffocating energy that held him captive this time; a show of power from his 'partner' to prove her point. "You've served this country well, especially in your peacemongering with Akeem and his boys. So I'll have you tell the Heads of Hierarchies, and then you'll go to Aramil and report your secession from the ranks of my military. Once the Aramillan forces know that you're no longer of any value to them...I suppose you can go on vacation. Take that break you oh so surely deserve, and never return to Val'Ghast; You've more than expired what little usefulness you had." This was something of a final mercy from Kamilla. According to the pair, Amias had expired his usefulness. He knew better than to argue with powers far surpassing his own; he wouldn't have survived this long if he hadn't. He wouldn't have survived under the thumb of callous kings who delighted in tormenting him for his long. He wouldn't have survived centuries of public hatred and ridicule.
No...the demon knew exactly what he had to do. And with those deep, brooding thoughts in his mind, Amias left the cathedral without a word. To be truthful, he was dumbstruck; never had the pair showed any signs of discontent with his work. On the contrary, they'd always been appreciative of what he'd done. But now, his eyes wide with rage, the man's wings spread no sooner than he'd gotten outside, and he lifted off into the air at vicious speeds. The Heads of Hierarchies wasn't very far away, and unfortunately...he knew exactly what was coming.
The Heads were all very big, bolstered egos. Their enlistment as powerful military leaders by Kamilla had inflated their heads to incorrigible scale, and with his banishment now set in stone, Amias would likely never get to shatter those egos on the battlefield, like he'd so been looking forward to. Upon first glance, their meeting place would simply look like a representation of Stonehenge, on a much more massive scale. Dozens of gigantic boulders lined up in a ring, with a much smaller podium in the middle. A formation designed specifically so that either Amias or Herod could come and lecture the Heads in either foreign or war policy. Though they often slept through the former.
No sooner than his feet touched the podium, the Heads would slink out from under their specific boulders, having been roused from their nearly perpetual sleep. Soon...they wouldn't have any more time to sleep. Clearing his throat, Amias spoke calmly, though his voice would occasionally shake in that unbridled rage kind of way. "Starting tomorrow, Kamilla and Herod are having every member of the military undergo a simulated heat training. In order to withstand the hotter temperatures further under the surface of the ground, they ask that all of you attend, as well as your respective hierarchies." It came out nearly in one breath. The aged man was struggling within himself, not sure whether to just kill these foolish beasts or to leave them in the chance that they might actually contribute to the war effort. Ultimately, he decided to spare their lives...though that sentiment would be very hardily challenged very soon. "That's all, so make sure--"
"Are you SURE that's all, Amias?" The smug voice of Kolaghan, the Head of Dragons, filled the air. "See, Kamilla told us something else very interesting today. Of course, I wouldn't want to believe it's true without hearing our fearless, wise lecturer tell us firsthand." The Vaet Diabolos felt a vicious shiver up his spine. Blood started rushing to his head, and he could see the corners of his vision turning red. Oh, how easy it would be to revert, to slaughter all these arrogant beasts in cold blood...he had the power now. Before he could go any further, the visage of a lightning bolt tore through his consciousness; a solid reminder from Raphael as to what he was now. Those days were behind him. So, with the smug look of the dragon in front of him, Amias would finish his 'lecture' as instructed by Kamilla.
"And as of now, I am no longer a representative of Val'Ghast. Kamilla and Herod informed me that my use has been fulfilled, and that after informing you of their final training exercise..." His head drooped, the reality of the situation pressing down on him; why did it always turn out like this? "...that I am to leave Val'Ghast immediately to begin my banishment." The man barely gave them time to respond before his wings flared outward. He was in the sky by the time the laughter started, though it didn't stop him from hearing the booming, taunting, sneering, vicious laughter of that b*****d Kolaghan. The sound of that booming laughter would haunt his subconscious for weeks. It had been a long time since Amias had been made a fool of in this way; Kamilla would get hers in time.
But for now, as he made the trip to Aramil, Amias' mind was an absolute torrent of emotions. Rage, hatred, anger, resentment...envy. It always seemed, no matter what the situation was, his prosperity was right in front of him, always ready to grasp like a juicy fruit hanging from a tree. Ceremoniously, it seemed that there was always....ALWAYS someone whose reach was just a little bit longer. Someone who would pluck that ripe, bountiful fruit right out of his fingers and devour it while he still laid eyes. Kamilla would pay for this.
Thankfully, Amias had one last Bastion to rely on for assistance. Aramil was also involved in the war, and if he could just be accepted into their ranks...he could still make a difference. He wasn't lost yet. He could still fix this.
