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sparkindarknessThis is getting ridiculous. I am going to have to go on strike and let the muses do their own damn writing.
Ok, back in the past (17th century I think) when Kyernath first stalked the world. His attempts to escape Camaalis' righteous wrath
Kyernath surveyed his forces. They were tiny, miniscule compared to what he had managed to gather when Camaalis had wiped them out. He rubbed a cut along his right temple. They had nearly wiped him out as well. He had taken steps against that. The cut was bloodless now, just a rent in his scarlet and ebony flesh, running across scales and flakes of stone. That was how he would endure – how Camaalis used to endure before it became corrupt and weak – he did what had to be done. He did not flinch, he did what was necessary – what was LOGICAL – no matter what pitiful emotions may demand otherwise. That was what Camaalis should be – what it used to be when it was great.
He had done what he needed to and he was stronger now than ever before, and now he was heading out of the country as well, somewhere to hide safely while he gathered his powers for his return.
He ground his razor teeth together, ignoring the sound of his fangs rattling against the stony plate of the roof of his mouth. He shouldn’t have been able to gather such power. He shouldn’t have been able to improve and strengthen himself as much as he had. He shouldn’t’ have been able to build even this small army. Camaalis should have stopped him. Instead they had their forces tied up in conflicts in Europe all because they were unwilling to close their hands and do what must be done! All because they were weak. He would almost welcome his destruction if it would prove that Camaalis was worthy to continue unchanged. Even now, they must sense him and his forces but they feared moving against him in numbers because he had kept near to centres of population. That alone should tell them that enough was enough, they had to change and return to their logical ways – that they allowed weak emotions to stop them bringing down such a dire threat? Would they let him leave the country unmolested to come against them in the future?
The Undead and daemons that gathered around him started to move faster as his anger and frustration surged into them. He was so lost in his fury that he almost missed the searing blast of magic that burned through the undead at the front of the column.
He blinked into alert and saw the cluster of figures on a nearby hill top, standing among the ancient granite standing stones and the volcanic rock that seemed to grow from the ground like something alive. His eyes narrowed as he identified them, no talismans in their hair, not even long hair or blacker than black hair. No midnight blue eyes and several of them stood tall. They weren’t Camaalis – one of their lackies, one of the Vassal families. His forces surged forwards even as he recognised them. The Crowley family. Power mad sycophants who would almost have a sensible out look if it weren’t for their slavish fawning over Camaalis and their selfish obsession over power for its own sake.
His own hands extended in an orb of pure darkness that flared forwards ahead of the charging army. It flared 3 feet away from the first surprised Crowley who took a step back in shock. Kyernath hissed, they had raised a shield? An incredibly powerful shield? He would never have thought the Crowley family would be capable of such a feat.
Power struck him, the very essence of fire seemed to burn through him, threatening him with utter destruction, almost reducing him to ash - no, to a mere wisp of smoke in less than a second. Only the coursing demon energy vibrating through his unnatural frame bought him the time he needed to tear aside the veil between worlds. It was an almost instinctive action, he used his body as a portal between this world and an Infernal Realm of pure flame. Mortals around the world have pictured and infernal realm where souls are tortured for eternity in fire, this daemonic land reflected all of them,. The essence of fire flowed through him and entered the daemonic realm where it dissipated harmlessly among flames far larger and hotter. Kyernath through back his head and laughed at the shocked look on the Crowley faces, he could see four of them, hands linked, directing the flow of power into him But where did they get that power? He opened all his senses, straining above the sounds of his undead and daemons whittling down the barrier around the fool Crowleys as they started killing the army piece by peice and the thrumming of the fiery power channelling through him... there was a vast power here, a power that was alien to him...
His eyes snapped open and the sound of his teeth grinding together could be heard even over the battle. A Wellspring. They held a Wellspring and were using its power to attach with and to shield, a shield that would have to be beaten down until those who held it released it or the power of the Wellspring was spent. Unless there was a gap...
Kyernath reached across the connection of power that flowed through him. He felt it connect through his doorway into the infernal realm. He took the power of that realm and gently eased it across the that devastating flow of fiery death - just a thin thread running alongside a vast river. That thread connected the power of the infernal realm into the casting Crowleys, connecting the realm to their bodies and minds. A pulse of power flowed down the line, daemonic power flowing towards the Crowleys... Kyernath’s laugh echoed that of the daemon who ran down the line gleeful at the opportunity.
One of the women threw back her head and screamed. She had a few brief seconds of agony before her body exploded outwards in a wave of viscera. The battle paused as the Crowleys tried to take in the sudden daemon in their midst. Kyernathe felt the flow of heat and flame dissipate into nothing as the daemon fell on those around him with a dark savagery.
Kyernath grinned and launched a powerful bolt of Sorcery against the shield. With the Crowleys distracted by the daemon they weren’t holding the shield properly, it shrank a full foot. More power flew from his hands and the shield fell back again. He roared in laughter and through another bolt of energy, the Word falling from his lips as the power burst against the shield again. It retreated a full yard. The Crowleys were looking desperate, their forces split between holding the shield and trying to suppress the daemon among them.
Another ball of Sorcery gathered in his hand, powered by the Words of destruction, death, ending, loss all empowered in it... something grabbed his leg with enough strength to pulverise rock. Kyernath staggered, his ball of power vaporising power slammed into the back of an undead abomination that was reduced to a puddle of mush.
From the floor Kyernath saw the ground was torn asunder by roots and branches and vines, tripping, binding and crushing the undead and daemons. The Sorcerer saw men and women wearing metal plate armour darting in between the pinned and injured forces, they fought with swords and light and fire, cutting a huge swath through the disabled army. He snarled and sent his Sorcery through the crowd, saw one armoured knight go down and another stagger to the floor with his leg rotten away below the knee. A woman in long robes grabbed the lamed knight, her hands glowing with white light as the bleeding stopped and his pain abated. Kyernath snarled and more dark power scythed towards the healer. A figure in leaves and leather appeared among them and they all sank into earth before the bolt hit home, leaving only scared and lifeless ground in their wake.
Kyernath hissed his fury and struck out madly into the crowd of his enemies. Too often they disappeared like mist as soon as they attracted his attention. His army was being decimated by shadows and half seen threats. Every time he gained his feet the land itself lashed out furiously to knock him down again. A thousand times powers slashed across him that would have killed a hundred lesser men, disorientating and distracting him beyond measure. Fire now flared among the army again as the Crowleys on the hill as they daemon had been brought down.
Kyernath closed his eyes, ignoring the battle around him, ignoring even the magic that flared against his own skin. His emotion drained away, leaving him with pure logic - the true answer to all problems. In that moment of clarity among chaos he had the answer
He opened his eyes and lashed out his Sorcery in the same motion. Around him the vines withered and the roots rotted. It wasn’t perfect but it was enough for his shattered forces to rally. He ignored the shadowy and elusive forces, a pulse of Infernal Power and Necromancy together to send all his forces against the Crowleys, his own power smashing against the shield at the same time. He felts his forces being brought down by the knights and nature itself as they charged the hill. Bolt of darkness after darkness hit the shield, forcing it back yard after yard. Cracks suddenly spread, glowing with red flames, across a suddenly visible dome around the Wellspring. Even as he watched more cracks spread and the dome shrank further in on itself. It was shrinking back at the same rate as a man could walk as magic left Kyernath’s hands in a near constant stream of destruction.
It ended all at once. The shield shrunk inwards to nothing all at once, the remaining Crowleys disappearing at the same time, using the Ley Lines to escape. The forces slashing at his army sank into the earth as if they had never been.
Kyernath surveyed the field of victory. if it could be called that. His already pathetic forces were fragments of what they once were and he had no time to rebuild them. He had to escape soon, Camaalis had no intention of letting him survive no matter how their resources were stretched.
********
Hawthorn sat silently in the shade of the trees surveying his companions, trying to keep a frown off his face. Belinda seemed to be trying to emulate him but she couldn’t keep her grief off her face. none of the Brethren of the Heart stood loss and pain very well. Gladius strode back and forth in a clanking of metal, his face set into a scowl enough for all of them. He looked like he was trying to kill Simeon with his eyes. Simeon himself seemed to have bitten something sour. Given that he was a Crowley he was probably worried more about being responsible for a complete disaster and the politics of it more than he was about his dead family.
“What is your excuse? We were supposed to concentrate on his army. We were supposed to keep Kyernath distracted, not try and kill him. You were supposed to wait until we attacked before you launched your assault. You were never supposed to try and bring him down. Your glory seeking cost lives!” Gladius roared in fury, the legendary discipline of Camelot’s Knights washed away in his rage.
“It was a success, even if it did not go as planned.” Simeon growled, trying for icy calm and missing badly.
“People died. People died who needn’t have. That is not success.” Belinda nearly shrieked.
Hawthorn sighed and roused himself. “Camaalis will decide success and failure, praise and blame and future action.” His voice was resonant and strong and reassuring as an old oak.
They subsided grudgingly. Camaalis would decide.
Ok, back in the past (17th century I think) when Kyernath first stalked the world. His attempts to escape Camaalis' righteous wrath
Kyernath surveyed his forces. They were tiny, miniscule compared to what he had managed to gather when Camaalis had wiped them out. He rubbed a cut along his right temple. They had nearly wiped him out as well. He had taken steps against that. The cut was bloodless now, just a rent in his scarlet and ebony flesh, running across scales and flakes of stone. That was how he would endure – how Camaalis used to endure before it became corrupt and weak – he did what had to be done. He did not flinch, he did what was necessary – what was LOGICAL – no matter what pitiful emotions may demand otherwise. That was what Camaalis should be – what it used to be when it was great.
He had done what he needed to and he was stronger now than ever before, and now he was heading out of the country as well, somewhere to hide safely while he gathered his powers for his return.
He ground his razor teeth together, ignoring the sound of his fangs rattling against the stony plate of the roof of his mouth. He shouldn’t have been able to gather such power. He shouldn’t have been able to improve and strengthen himself as much as he had. He shouldn’t’ have been able to build even this small army. Camaalis should have stopped him. Instead they had their forces tied up in conflicts in Europe all because they were unwilling to close their hands and do what must be done! All because they were weak. He would almost welcome his destruction if it would prove that Camaalis was worthy to continue unchanged. Even now, they must sense him and his forces but they feared moving against him in numbers because he had kept near to centres of population. That alone should tell them that enough was enough, they had to change and return to their logical ways – that they allowed weak emotions to stop them bringing down such a dire threat? Would they let him leave the country unmolested to come against them in the future?
The Undead and daemons that gathered around him started to move faster as his anger and frustration surged into them. He was so lost in his fury that he almost missed the searing blast of magic that burned through the undead at the front of the column.
He blinked into alert and saw the cluster of figures on a nearby hill top, standing among the ancient granite standing stones and the volcanic rock that seemed to grow from the ground like something alive. His eyes narrowed as he identified them, no talismans in their hair, not even long hair or blacker than black hair. No midnight blue eyes and several of them stood tall. They weren’t Camaalis – one of their lackies, one of the Vassal families. His forces surged forwards even as he recognised them. The Crowley family. Power mad sycophants who would almost have a sensible out look if it weren’t for their slavish fawning over Camaalis and their selfish obsession over power for its own sake.
His own hands extended in an orb of pure darkness that flared forwards ahead of the charging army. It flared 3 feet away from the first surprised Crowley who took a step back in shock. Kyernath hissed, they had raised a shield? An incredibly powerful shield? He would never have thought the Crowley family would be capable of such a feat.
Power struck him, the very essence of fire seemed to burn through him, threatening him with utter destruction, almost reducing him to ash - no, to a mere wisp of smoke in less than a second. Only the coursing demon energy vibrating through his unnatural frame bought him the time he needed to tear aside the veil between worlds. It was an almost instinctive action, he used his body as a portal between this world and an Infernal Realm of pure flame. Mortals around the world have pictured and infernal realm where souls are tortured for eternity in fire, this daemonic land reflected all of them,. The essence of fire flowed through him and entered the daemonic realm where it dissipated harmlessly among flames far larger and hotter. Kyernath through back his head and laughed at the shocked look on the Crowley faces, he could see four of them, hands linked, directing the flow of power into him But where did they get that power? He opened all his senses, straining above the sounds of his undead and daemons whittling down the barrier around the fool Crowleys as they started killing the army piece by peice and the thrumming of the fiery power channelling through him... there was a vast power here, a power that was alien to him...
His eyes snapped open and the sound of his teeth grinding together could be heard even over the battle. A Wellspring. They held a Wellspring and were using its power to attach with and to shield, a shield that would have to be beaten down until those who held it released it or the power of the Wellspring was spent. Unless there was a gap...
Kyernath reached across the connection of power that flowed through him. He felt it connect through his doorway into the infernal realm. He took the power of that realm and gently eased it across the that devastating flow of fiery death - just a thin thread running alongside a vast river. That thread connected the power of the infernal realm into the casting Crowleys, connecting the realm to their bodies and minds. A pulse of power flowed down the line, daemonic power flowing towards the Crowleys... Kyernath’s laugh echoed that of the daemon who ran down the line gleeful at the opportunity.
One of the women threw back her head and screamed. She had a few brief seconds of agony before her body exploded outwards in a wave of viscera. The battle paused as the Crowleys tried to take in the sudden daemon in their midst. Kyernathe felt the flow of heat and flame dissipate into nothing as the daemon fell on those around him with a dark savagery.
Kyernath grinned and launched a powerful bolt of Sorcery against the shield. With the Crowleys distracted by the daemon they weren’t holding the shield properly, it shrank a full foot. More power flew from his hands and the shield fell back again. He roared in laughter and through another bolt of energy, the Word falling from his lips as the power burst against the shield again. It retreated a full yard. The Crowleys were looking desperate, their forces split between holding the shield and trying to suppress the daemon among them.
Another ball of Sorcery gathered in his hand, powered by the Words of destruction, death, ending, loss all empowered in it... something grabbed his leg with enough strength to pulverise rock. Kyernath staggered, his ball of power vaporising power slammed into the back of an undead abomination that was reduced to a puddle of mush.
From the floor Kyernath saw the ground was torn asunder by roots and branches and vines, tripping, binding and crushing the undead and daemons. The Sorcerer saw men and women wearing metal plate armour darting in between the pinned and injured forces, they fought with swords and light and fire, cutting a huge swath through the disabled army. He snarled and sent his Sorcery through the crowd, saw one armoured knight go down and another stagger to the floor with his leg rotten away below the knee. A woman in long robes grabbed the lamed knight, her hands glowing with white light as the bleeding stopped and his pain abated. Kyernath snarled and more dark power scythed towards the healer. A figure in leaves and leather appeared among them and they all sank into earth before the bolt hit home, leaving only scared and lifeless ground in their wake.
Kyernath hissed his fury and struck out madly into the crowd of his enemies. Too often they disappeared like mist as soon as they attracted his attention. His army was being decimated by shadows and half seen threats. Every time he gained his feet the land itself lashed out furiously to knock him down again. A thousand times powers slashed across him that would have killed a hundred lesser men, disorientating and distracting him beyond measure. Fire now flared among the army again as the Crowleys on the hill as they daemon had been brought down.
Kyernath closed his eyes, ignoring the battle around him, ignoring even the magic that flared against his own skin. His emotion drained away, leaving him with pure logic - the true answer to all problems. In that moment of clarity among chaos he had the answer
He opened his eyes and lashed out his Sorcery in the same motion. Around him the vines withered and the roots rotted. It wasn’t perfect but it was enough for his shattered forces to rally. He ignored the shadowy and elusive forces, a pulse of Infernal Power and Necromancy together to send all his forces against the Crowleys, his own power smashing against the shield at the same time. He felts his forces being brought down by the knights and nature itself as they charged the hill. Bolt of darkness after darkness hit the shield, forcing it back yard after yard. Cracks suddenly spread, glowing with red flames, across a suddenly visible dome around the Wellspring. Even as he watched more cracks spread and the dome shrank further in on itself. It was shrinking back at the same rate as a man could walk as magic left Kyernath’s hands in a near constant stream of destruction.
It ended all at once. The shield shrunk inwards to nothing all at once, the remaining Crowleys disappearing at the same time, using the Ley Lines to escape. The forces slashing at his army sank into the earth as if they had never been.
Kyernath surveyed the field of victory. if it could be called that. His already pathetic forces were fragments of what they once were and he had no time to rebuild them. He had to escape soon, Camaalis had no intention of letting him survive no matter how their resources were stretched.
********
Hawthorn sat silently in the shade of the trees surveying his companions, trying to keep a frown off his face. Belinda seemed to be trying to emulate him but she couldn’t keep her grief off her face. none of the Brethren of the Heart stood loss and pain very well. Gladius strode back and forth in a clanking of metal, his face set into a scowl enough for all of them. He looked like he was trying to kill Simeon with his eyes. Simeon himself seemed to have bitten something sour. Given that he was a Crowley he was probably worried more about being responsible for a complete disaster and the politics of it more than he was about his dead family.
“What is your excuse? We were supposed to concentrate on his army. We were supposed to keep Kyernath distracted, not try and kill him. You were supposed to wait until we attacked before you launched your assault. You were never supposed to try and bring him down. Your glory seeking cost lives!” Gladius roared in fury, the legendary discipline of Camelot’s Knights washed away in his rage.
“It was a success, even if it did not go as planned.” Simeon growled, trying for icy calm and missing badly.
“People died. People died who needn’t have. That is not success.” Belinda nearly shrieked.
Hawthorn sighed and roused himself. “Camaalis will decide success and failure, praise and blame and future action.” His voice was resonant and strong and reassuring as an old oak.
They subsided grudgingly. Camaalis would decide.