Environmental Post
The group that travelled forth from the Allied lines was a random assortment in appearance, yet they moved as one beneath the light of the red sun.
Three mounted, four on foot - the company that moved towards an unlikely parley and an uncertain future had not been arranged with balances in mind, but they still came together seamlessly as the unarmed Tutari warriors waited. Barth Krinwulf, commander of mankind’s last alliance and prince of a dead kingdom strode forward with calm steps, his eyes held steady on the brutal would-be emissaries awaiting his presence. He would speak of no doubts or fears, but if one was to look closely they would have seen the shadows of both in his eyes.
Sen the Sister, who in a life long since concluded had been a noblewoman from a respected House, followed along with the others after exchanging a silent glance with her commander. Her mismatched eyes, one of which had been pierced in battle before being touched by the unique influence of two Elder Gods, searched the air for the source of what she perceived as something unnatural, but she could not place it.
Not yet.
Rajah of the Plains, many leagues from his home, moved lightly over foreign soil amongst people who’d only a short time before been total strangers. In the present, however, they were the last hope of his people. Their plight was now his, as the number of miles between the Scorched Plains and the Lebi countryside was rendered meaningless by the need for survival. Alistair, the Knight of Lebidan who understood the authority of no House, but who fought for his land - and himself, although he still did not fully understand what that meant - moved along with the others. The fox pelt draped over a muscular shoulder stood as a reminder of his lineage, and of his father, but in the current time his more notable adornment was the new determination that gripped him as he voluntarily strode forth with the commander’s group.
The First-Captain of the Heart Guard was one of the riders; Daria of Colbyne was no stranger to war, yet the eyes beneath the Thaamin red of her hair had seen things she’d never imagined possible since her arrival at the Battle of Landfall. She was no fool, and expected no peaceful parley, yet she moved forward with the others, representing her company and showing no fear at whatever waited ahead. Behind her was Captain Resuran, newly appointed head of the Red Company, who also elected to move forward as another leader within the retinue. Some among his men were apprehensive of what a group of seemingly unarmed Tutar could be doing there, but the eyes above the braided mustache displayed no such trepidation.
Riding near her prince, Ausan Benthey’s eyes were oddly empty as the distance between the two groups continued to fade. The Maiden of Linden, last of her title, leader of the Sisters would stand at Barth’s side, regardless of what the future held. Yet, if one was to examine her closely they would have discovered a person whose hopes had dwindled into shadow, and who sought out no future joy - whether in personal life, or the battlefield, the bleakness was all-encompassing. Still, the Maiden would lay steel between her foes and her friends, for in that regard she would never lose her way.
Finally, at long last, the group reached the Tutar.
The Chieftain, a hulking brute with no traces of intellect in his eyes, grunted, inclining his head at the prince. There was a tension in the air as the two parties stood in silence, each regarding the other with distrust that was painfully obvious. It was only a matter of time before the peace, uncomfortable and tense as it was, would come to a violent end. Realizing this, Barth Krinwulf took a step forward and opened his mouth only to close it in surprise as a disturbance swept over the field.
The ground underneath them trembled, softly at first, but then violently enough to nearly throw the riders from their mounts as a distant roaring sound drew closer. From where the two groups stood, a series of reddish dots became visible high up in the skies above. The air grew swelteringly hot and there was a faint shimmer in the breeze, as if it carried on it an energy that even eyes untouched by Gods could discern, to an extent.
Cries rose up among the masses, and although suspicion immediately fell upon the group of Tutar, the bestial warriors looked just as alarmed as anyone else. Their fanged mouths hung open as shock clouded eyes that were more accustomed to demonstrating savagery than uncertainty.
The Elder Gods, understanding what the others could not, surged forward. Yorinth raised his hands, intending to cast a fog of protection over the entirety of the field, even as Lydia threw her dice, the small smile now noticeably absent from her ageless face. Gaius Stormbreath alone did not act immediately, as he was more concerned with pondering the power descending into their midst.
Yorinth’s fog fizzled away into nothing, easily overwhelmed by what was coming, and the dice turned black as they returned to Lydia’s hand. She frowned down at them, then threw them once more, only to see the same result. A final attempt was made, and the two stone squares exploded as they reached her, making the Goddess flinch, recoiling. Gaius glared up at the fireballs that were growing larger with dizzying speed, and shook his head before turning to face the remainder of the allied army.
“These can be saved,” he said, his Demigods standing dutifully on either side of him, and he waved his staff, shouting as he threw forth every ounce of his power. The other Gods, along with the entirety of the army were flung back, soaring through the air on the sheet of wind surging out of the length of wood. Many landed painfully, and more than one horse suffered a broken leg, but the bearded immortal did not hesitate as he saved their lives.
Like Gaius and his Demigods, however, the ones at the center of the field could not be spared.
The boulders that fell were wreathed in fire, and some were nearly the size of mountain peaks as they crashed down into their midst. One landed towards the rear of the Tutari warriors, obliterating them completely — the Chieftain had enough time to let out a high pitched squeal of pain and fear before his entire body was turned to ash. Another projectile landed closer to Barth’s group, sending sprays of dirt into the air as a massive chasm formed beneath its weight. The impacts sent violent tremors through the ground, making it difficult to stay on their feet; a single rock, roughly the size of a pony, flew in at an angle and tore Ausan’s horse out from under her, killing it instantly and breaking both of her legs. The rock would have continued all the way through the army’s main body if not for the Elder God of Wind, who threw everything he had at it. It skidded to a halt, just feet away from the front lines, but the effort left him with a staff that was broken in half. Drained of all his remaining strength, Gaius Stormbreath fell to his knees as his Demigods formed a protective circle around him. Their movements were in vain, however, as they were all crushed by the next boulder, which landed directly on top of them.
Daria and Resuran were both merely inches from a massive impact; the fiery rock left a deep, long trench in the ground, into which the captain of the Red Company’s steed fell. The man atop it leapt from his mount just in time to avoid falling in as well, but the next fireball struck the field just behind him, sending him forward as debris shot up and shattered his collarbone, leaving him to fall close to where Daria was sprawled, her horse nowhere to be seen and her back broken. The rock that collided with Alistair’s chest sent him soaring backward through the air, but before he could land another flaming segment of stone came crashing down on him from above, slamming him into the ground and breaking most of his ribs.
A smaller rock, merely the size of Haman, landed on an uneven stretch of ground and shot horizontally down the field, slamming into Rajah’s lower body. He flipped over like a rag doll, landing on his head and narrowly avoiding a broken neck, although one of his feet was no longer attached to his body when the boulder continued past, crashing into the nearby woods. Sen narrowly avoided that particular boulder, but the next one was much larger and hit the ground just in front of her. Flames scorched her and bits of rock pierced her body, with several fiery chunks hitting her hard enough to shatter her arm at the elbow. Another crashed into her head, if not hard enough to kill her instantly, forcefully enough to send her flying.
Barth stood at the center of a decimated battlefield, surrounded by fire and the cries of the dying. His forehead had been cut open, and blood ran down his face and into his eyes as he stared up at the final fireball, large enough to cover the entire center of the field. He dropped to the ground, and wordlessly turned and stared at his comrades, his half-blinded eyes lingering helplessly on Ausan before looking back to the approaching doom. He opened his mouth, but no words came out as the flaming mountain peak landed, killing all of them.
The Ravine“FLAME, THAT BURNS”
"The Flame burns our enemies."
"FLAME, THAT MELTS"
"The Flame melts our weakness away."
"FLAME, THAT LIGHTS"
"The Flame illuminates the path before us."
"FLAME, THAT ENGULFS"
"The Flame shall fuel us."
"FLAME, THAT ENGULFS"
"The Flame shall ignite our obstacles."
"FLAME, THAT ENGULFS"
"The world will burn.”
The chants rang through the Ravine, the rasped language echoing back onto itself, discordant tones battling futilely for supremacy as Heldrith'thn knelt. The acolytes leading the others in praise were also stooped over, their low voices rising up in a single hum as their eyes remained downcast. The Flame was upon them, among them, and the measure of such an honor was beyond description. If death came to them now, it would be as auspicious an end as could even be conceived. More glorious even than death upon the battlefield, clutching jagged blades caked in the blood of their hated foes.
“You have done well in preparing your people, High Priest. I am pleased with your service.”
He trembled, and tears leaked from the corners of Heldrith'thn’s closed eyes as he accepted the loftiest of compliments. He bowed even lower, his brow touching upon the ashen ground as the figure standing in front of him drew closer, the fire that wreathed it now so intense the glow was visible through his eyelids.
“It is an honor to serve, oh mighty and All Knowing Flame.” “The Flame is all things, Heldrith'thn, and it resides within all things. It lives within each of you, and I am its messenger, its embodiment. You may call me by my true name.” A hand, powerful beyond words, grasped him by the shoulder and raised him, effortlessly lifting the ancient Tutar into the air and setting him down, his spine now straight as he stared up at the towering figure. His hair was long and reddish brown, open about his shoulders, and his black robes billowed around him, displaying the occasional glints of chain mail underneath. A long sword hung at his side, and a fire burned in his dark eyes — he was the Flame, yet he looked like a God of war, now descended to bring glory to the Ravine.
“You may call me Malinar.” A distant rumble sounded as the name was given, and to the priest it felt as if the world itself shook upon recognizing its speaker. Such power had never touched upon Soluunar before, and as the Tutar gazed, enraptured, he knew such a thing would never happen again.
“Yes, my Lord Malinar,” he whispered, standing quickly aside as the God strode forward with long, loping strides. He followed eagerly behind him, the chants of the Ravine still ringing chaotically behind and around him as they entered the sacred Temple. The large bowl atop the iron pedestal was a beacon, pointing out the throne behind it, and when Malinar approached it the flames within the vessel rose, becoming a narrow pillow of white-hot fire that nearly reached the ceiling high above.
Heldrith'thn flinched, shielding his eyes from the sight; when he was finally able to see again, the fire had died back down to its usual state, and Malinar sat upon the black throne. The crude steel construct looked uncomfortable, yet the God sat at his ease, looking formidable and regal as he gazed into the distance, seeing things Heldrith'thn could only imagine at.
“The sacrifices are no more,” he said, now fixing his stare on the priest.
“The enemy has suffered a blow.”
“By your grace,” Heldrith'thn breathed in response, and the Flame nodded. The tremors running through the surface of Soluunar were undeniable; he’d laid waste to the field, as was promised in the bloody, burning visions the priest glimpsed during his tormented prayers. The Flame knew all, and it never failed to keep its promises. So long as one remained loyal.
“Yes. And now I have a task for you. Tell me, how many chieftains are within your people’s ranks? How many tribes yet have leaders?”
“Twelve remain, after Roumjain’s sacrifice, my Lord.”“Too many,” the mighty God replied dismissively, once more staring into infinite depths. The fire smoldering in his eyes was edged with the promise of pain and death, and there was something in the set of his strong jaw that made it clear the Tutar could only imagine at what he had in store for them.
“Have them brought to me. And then have them fight to the death. They will stop once five remain, for I only have need of that many.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and a small smile became visible on his ageless face.
”They will be my Chosen.”
Upper RegionsThe screams rang in Rolyn’s ears, but he knew something was wrong even before the desperate prayers reached him. The same power that had been alluding him, deceptive enough that even Phyrexus could not locate it, had erupted beneath him. But Malinar’s power was not as it should have been. It was unleashed, wielded without reservation, yet it was also closed off, a world away. And there was only one explanation for it.
“He has broken the Sacred Oath.”The faces that stared back at him were masks of shock; Valiya looked even paler than usual, and for the first time in many years Freiya's eyes had widened as his words washed over them. Lorkhan nearly fell from his seat. “Wh-what? That’s impossible!”
There was no time to argue the point. Without another word Rolyn whirled around and moved quickly out into the open space outside of the Conclave’s building. He heard words pursuing him, but he ignored them as he watched the proceedings down below. The fireballs rained down onto a field that held the last hopes of mankind. Leaders among the allied forces, some with large followings, others sources of immeasurable inspiration or potential, all on the brink of destruction. The Skyhand stared, helplessly looking on as the strength of the Elder Gods failed in the face of Malinar’s tremendous power. Against such a force they were miles out of their league.
That wasn’t enough to stop Gaius from trying, however.
The unsmiling voice of the righteous. Always that was you, Stormbreath, he thought numbly as the Elder God saved countless lives, throwing them recklessly out of harm’s way while placing himself in danger. The bearded immortal could move the army, but he couldn’t contend with Malinar’s power. None of them could. And while Malinar was upon Soluunar, not even Rolyn Firstborn could stop him. Not from the Upper Regions. Not without violating the Oath and sentencing himself to an eternity of torment within the vast emptiness of the Void. And even if he was of a mind to make such a sacrifice, there was simply no time.
The Elder God of Wind was crushed, along with his Demigods, and seconds later there was a stirring in the space behind him as Gaius and the others appeared, in a crumpled heap on the pristine white ground. They were now Fallen, stricken of the ability to exist in both realms; either they were confined to the Upper Regions, or they would forsake them in favor of Soluunar, the land currently being ravaged by the horrific power of a Circle God.
“I could not save them,” Gaius’ solemn voice uttered as a fireball the size of a mountain peak descended into the midst of Barth Krinwulf and his companions. Against Malinar, there was no one who could stand up. There could be no turning back the carnage that was to come, and the mortals below would be cheated of life, robbed of the chance to defend their people. The alliance would fall, and all because of Malinar. All because the most powerful of all the Gods had descended into their midst, his mind intent on malice.
“I will not allow this,” Rolyn said, now raising both hands into the air. He had not been entrusted with the protection of Creation only to stand by as an oathbreaker wreaked havoc on humanity’s last chance. Whether they knew it or not, the fate of Soluunar was hinging upon the people who were about to be destroyed, and their deaths would spell the beginning of the end. He couldn’t contend with Malinar’s power, not from another realm, but there was something else that could be done.
“Worthy, every one of them.” He knew no one had ever attempted to Uplift so many at once - Galaia had done two at the same time, and the act nearly killed her - but he also knew that it was within his power. A blue light enveloped him, as at the corner of his vision he began to see figures gathering, looking on as the Circle God slowed the passage of time all around him. A bead of sweat dropped from the jawline of one of Gaius’ Demigods and fell slowly to the ground, its progress taking nearly half a minute as Rolyn collected his power.
Everything slowed to a crawl, the soldiers on the field, the screams of the dying, and even the fiery mountaintop’s plunge slowed down as the Skyhand's power surged downward. A blinding blue light surrounded the figures below, and Rolyn knew he’d done it.
"A second chance,” he said softly, as they all perished far below.
Barth’s eyes opened and he saw only a vague pale color, which somehow looked oddly familiar. It took some time, but eventually he identified it as skin. Still, he had trouble understanding what he was looking at, and why.
Odd, that the afterlife would be entirely flesh colored. This is strange, he thought, even as the possibility that he wasn’t actually dead occurred to him. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
Sen’s mostly unconscious form was shifted off of him, her neck leaving his face where it had been pressed up against his eyes when he sat up. Now able to see, he found himself blinking rapidly as his eyes were assailed by a flood of white light. Everything around him seemed to be glowing, and the terrain was completely unlike anything he’d ever seen. The ground was white and unmarred, and everything around him was clean and pure, looking untouched by both war and the passage of time. Every structure within view was made of some kind of smooth, white stone, and the people there-
“Gods,” Barth whispered, and then he saw him. They were all there, Ausan, Sen, Rajah, Daria, Resuran and the Lebi knight he’d seen accompanied by a wolf, all of them who’d moved forward to meet the Tutari warriors, all of them in a heap on the ground. And in front of them, stood Rune.
There was no mistaking him; the God’s likeness had been carved into the sides of many an ancient temple, and the resemblance was uncanny. Barth pushed himself to his feet, even as he began hearing the others stirring behind him.
“What is this place? What happened? I thought we died,” he said, his voice scarcely louder than before, and the God nodded solemnly, his face unsmiling as he surveyed the newcomers.
“You did. But you were also made Demigods, right before your deaths. My Demigods,” Rune added, as a murmur swept through the massive assembled crowd that Barth was only just then noticing.
“You are now Fallen, and can remain here for the remainder of your days. Or you can forsake this place so you may go back, and fight,” he added, turning to face a group of Gods standing behind him. There were three of them, and something about their appearance made Barth certain that they were of some importance.
“The decision is yours, but I have other matters to attend to.” He moved away, blue robes swirling around him as he followed the other three into a small building not far away.
“I… don’t understand,” Barth said, rubbing his head wearily as the surrounding people continued to stare at them all as if they had three heads.
“You are immortal now. Nearly,” said a voice he recognized, that was laced with a grim note that was growing all too familiar. “You are Demigods, by the hand of Lord Rolyn himself, and no Circle God has Uplifted a Demigod in many millennia. You possess greater speed and strength than ever before, and you can heal from most hurts with little trouble. But you had better learn how to use your powers soon, for I fear time runs short,” Gaius said, looking odd without his usual staff.
Barth shook his head, struggling to come to terms with what he was being told. There was simply too much new information coming his way, and none of it was even remotely believable. So now they were
Gods? And Rune himself saved them? None of it made any sense.
“Why did he do it? And who caused all of this? Who killed us?” he asked, and the bearded man’s face suddenly housed a very dark look as he spat on the ground near his feet.
“Malinar Oathbreaker. The most powerful being in existence has descended upon Soluunar. You are lucky your entire army was not destroyed.”
Barth opened his mouth, then closed it, deciding his comprehension wasn’t as important as figuring out what would be happening next. If the God was right, and he suspected he was, then they needed to get back to their people before anything else could go wrong.
“What now?”“You collect yourselves, and you wait,” Gaius replied, turning to glance in the direction of the building into which Rune - or Rolyn, apparently - had disappeared. “Things have been set into motion, and I believe the next few moments will determine the fate of humanity itself.” There was still much Barth didn’t understand, but the direness of the situation was difficult to miss. For the time being, he was content with fixing the others with a look of profound confusion as an ominous feeling of impending doom settled over the vicinity.