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Shanar Hezhatin stood in the crater left by the brawling Gods. He had seen the entity that had made the Crater as a sheer display of strength but once. A being of seemingly unstoppable force and serenity in silver armor who'd appeared with a tall Barane of an alternate Tamir III,the species'  characteristic brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes overlaid with skin that in parts gleamed with a metallic hue of remote and strange hues from other dimensions. Humans. Such a strange race. 

He stooped down, looking at stones where the monstrous Starspawn had collided. These might be valuable in his researches. Known as Shadows, these rocks were touched by the essences of the Beyond, infused with marvelous and mysterious powers testament to the Gods that made them. His pursuit of a greater and more terrible weapon was still ongoing, but looking at the aftereffects of his Omegas successfully withstanding a blow from the kind of entity that spawned them Shanar had an uncharacteristic melancholy thought. 

Supposing his Kesheli concept did come to fruition, blending the genetics of the template of the Omega-1 with the strange material he found in the wake of explorations of the Pharaoh Nephren-Ka, the creation of a God among Gods. Holiest of holy relics, pieces of the Soul and Messenger of the Outer God, The first model had easily shown a power of dreadful nature, capable of acting on a multiversal scale. Only a worst-case scenario, his creations entirely victorious in this bloodbath and assuming the role of God-Emperors and Empresses over the whole of the Imperial dimension could motivate it. 

He still took the stones, the melancholy growing. What price success for one who mastered one of the fundamental forces of a universe if the price was these vast craters, bleeding mountains that weeped multi-colored ichor, and rumbling rasping after-echoes that kept percolating into eternity. At times he seemed to catch flashes of the immense green and clawed and silver form of the maddened Worldbreaker, at one point scraping residue that proved promising after an initial scan into a tube. 

He'd looked up and he'd seen the colossal form towering over him, fanged mouth leering straight down at him and he'd raised his hands to shield himself, a glowing sphere of nuclear energy forming by default and dissipating with glass blasted from dust in a circular pattern around him when the illusion vanished. Yes......only at the worst possible case for the would-be master of the New Gods would this happen. In fact, if he could will it at all, there would never be such another abomination birthed in his laboratories again. 

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 Chapter XXII: 

IX Tezelnakazu: 

The Worldbreaker's roars were not those of the silver-armored figure, the juggernaut who casually floored Gods and Monsters alike as was the will of the Outer Gods, their sole condescending recognition that some level of mortality served an unfathomable to it place in the omniverse. They were the bellowing and monstrous echoes of madness, of an entity steeped in death as a means to aid the dying overwhelmed by too much death in too short a time. The Starspawn roared in itself, its monstrous hands smashing into the armored form of the Worldbreaker, the gelatinous tissue splattering and reforming and doing no harm but only serving to make the Worldbreaker still more angry. The collision had driven them over the Pass of Gold to the coast of the immense sea by it. With a sudden overpowering dive, the Worldbreaker hurled the Starspawn down, the impact creating a colossal crater and permanently scarring the coast of the Imperial Bizjarran Throneworld. Registered globally on Richter scales, the impact and the awakened forces led psychics to shriek for years about the burning star that fell from heaven holding the concentrated might and malevolence of unfathomably long-lost eras. 

The oceans balked and broiled around the impact, waves rattled and storming along the coast of the islands of Hataria beyond, the Starspawn growling in pain and agony as its body lay before the entity that in spite of the almost absurd size-difference held it in a grip of iron. The claws resumed their butcher's work, and the Starspawn assailed the Worldbreaker with waves of force that would have annihilated many lesser things. The very invulnerability that made the Worldbreaker wielder of the deadly lightning-infused clouds meant the blows registered with pain but did not scratch the surface. Instead the Smoke roiled out in clouds, searing open entire parts of the Starspawn. Nine suns glowed a terrible blue light, glowing with a deep and deadly hate. 

A monstrous hand lunged forth to grasp the Worldbreaker, whose rumbling howl followed with a vicious squelching sound as the gelatinous hand was thrown beyond in the Valley, smearing itself across a mountain even as it sought to reform. The Starspawn spoke a Word ancient even to its kind, a Word of last resort that was supposed to destroy anything that heard it. Yet even here the invulnerable power of the Worldbreaker held, though the entity briefly stopped and hacked up blood, the hatred growing and blazing with still more power. 

Above them the skies turned to constellations of the sky around the Citadel of Temple Azarath, dreams and visions seared through the mind of those not already affected by the terrible clash in the Pass of Gold, by repeated world-wide seismic patterns, by the realization that entire military forces of millions had been wiped out in a single terrible instant. A figure formed in the wake of the visions, blonde hair whipping as did the billowing light blue cape, the sonic howl of the Starspawn followed by its reassembled hand smashing the Worldbreaker's face down briefly as it reattached to its body, the entity's raw brute strength finally permitting it to jostle the briefly-shaken Worldbreaker. 

Then it paused and gazed in wonder at Zezhelanzanai who formed an Elder Sign known to the entity's rivals and with a sudden twisting and malforming howl of denied vengeance the entity began to shrink and dissolve in a terrible foetid odor as the Worldbreaker's aggrieved bellows continued. As Suvacel fell, green hands grasped her and weightlessness took her, along with a sad and lingering: 

"What have we done to ourselves?" She never understood the question until years later. 

The Worldbreaker's mindless howls echoed as Zezhelanzanai stood before it with Vincent on her right, recognizing in wonder the Witch-Queen of Domdaniel. As the entity glared at her with an even more intense and almost palpable hatred, the Witch-Queen spoke an ancient incantation: 

That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons, even death shall die. 

The death-madness fled and Deborah stood once more in thin-air, hovering with her eyes closed, tears falling down her face. It had been centuries since last the madness took her and each time it struck with deadlier and deadlier force. 

She felt Vincent's metallic flesh enclose her and the chalky-white skin of the Goddess faded into the light brown skin of the human woman, and then she looked with those same eyes for a window in time at not the maddened wrath of the Azar, a terrible and mindless flame that flailed and absorbed ever more into itself but what the Azar could have been. Her own sister, speaking only: 

Forgive me for whatever I do when I do not remember.....
her hand waved to encompass all around them....the beauty of family, of friendship, and of love. You have nothing to forgive yourself, it was an act of hubris on the part of an Elder God. 

She smiled and said: 

I'll be seeing you. 

The flame of Domdaniel vanished with light already infused by a growing odor and a darker and duller shade of green and as Igna landed in the Citadel, the familiar pattern reasserted itself with an agonized howl as the Azar of Azarath rose triumphant, but saddened in ways never easy to understand. Flashes of memories that never fully formed, but one that haunted it and made it madder and wish to destroy that which was seen: 

a very human light brown face with wavy black hair smiling through a tear-strewn face and saying: Thank you. If there is ever a means to do for you as you have done for me.....

The entity howled and raged and stormed through its citadel, its anger reflected across its dimension in storms of blood and fire and pillars of smoke, things that made its pieces and servants quake and hide. Its anger blazed with heat for a month as the painful memories clawed into its head and it beat its head upon the floor. 

The Pass of the Dead: 

Xaderavcal's eyes were wide with a horror that shook others for the sight that the invulnerable and unconquerable warlord could be so....normal. So frankly terrified out of her wits. An entire Pass strewn with corpses, the wreckage of machinery scattered in helter-skelter fashion. Mountains leveled with casual and brutal ease, and that immense crater that formed a half-moon shape to a degree with aspects like the wings of an enormous flying furry creature from the planet Tamir III. 

She spoke telepathically to the one survivor of the other side, catatonic with horror, shock, and guilt, and to those of her side. Including Vizornii Hezhatin, who stared blankly into space enfolded by the arms of her love, the youthful green-furred Meremi, whose eyes were wide with concern and fear for her loved one. 

You who have withstood the terror of what was once the Pass of Gold shall be honored above others. You have entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and thus this is now the Pass of the Dead. You have survived a terrible Wrath from Beyond unleashed by something dreadful and horrible. Regardless of cause, this is no little feat in itself. 

She remained silent for two more hours. A total of fifty million soldiers from both sides committed to what should have been a decisive moment, and upon the awakening of That Thing within the clone, each struck down with but six survivors. She whistled tonelessly and began laments echoing in voice and mind. 

For as terrifying as what had ensued was, the war was still in full flame, and those who'd drunk deeply of horror would glut themselves more fully still. 
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Chapter XXI: 

 IX Tezelnakazu: 

The monstrous Starspawn of Dread R'lyeh, though a pitiful shade of the entity that was father and maker to them all, still towered a full mile in height. Its wings were vast enough to blot out Shuhar's light and cast the Pass of Gold into shade. Deborah's lancing form of light was dismissed by the enraged wrath of the youthful-seeming female of R'lyeh until two fists collided into the left side of its monstrous tentacle-adorned face. A shrieking howl like the murder of Shuhar combined with the whine of a radio echoed, pulverizing both sides indiscrimnately. The monster staggered back, two echoing footsteps following, as Deborah hovered, eyes glowing with a terrible light. 

You are in the wrong space and time, Starspawn. The Stars are wrong for your kind. 

The creature turned a deep crimson and its eyes focused on her, grasping onto mountains as it leaned forward. Its voice burbled with the malignance and ancient power of Something from the far-off days of the Beyond: 

Wrong for all but one of us, little white thing. You are a cast-off of a warlord, vainly seeking to adhere to a cycle even as you believe you subvert it. My father stormed the gates of the Heavens and the price paid is my perpetual endurance. I do not appreciate little children's temper tantrums seeking to kill my host. 

Deborah snarled in turn and then smiled as she said: 

Your  host chose poorly in taking something not hers to take. 

The Starspawn's eyes blazed hotter and a sudden assertion of the entity's will struck Deborah like a sledgehammer, the entity dismissing the hammer-blows of the Beast that created sonic booms and the rays of Vincent with the greatest of ease. 

Its eyes remained focused on the growing light and many-angled aspect of the form rising before it, a creature of such power that even a Starspawn was as to it as a mere mortal was to the Starspawn. Fascinated at the sight of a forming piece of the entities its dread father had worshiped and conquered existence in the name of in its lifetime the creature some worlds dubbed Cthylla, youngest of the dreadful spawn of Dread Cthulhu, waited with expectancy and desire. 

Deborah fell headlong but righted herself in mid-air. Growling as the entity's claws dragged into the mountain-side, carving weeping wounds that brought rocks and an eerie substance of glistening light down with them, and the entity seemed to either be bowing or preparing to attack, she called to herself the most dreadful of all of her powers, the Black Smoke. Not the whisps that formed automatically as a part of her honed reflexes in combat, the unleashed power of the darkest and most gruesome aspects of what the would-be healer and redeemer aspired to. 

For a wonder the Starspawn's gaze was diverted. It seemed almost amused at the sight of a growing cloud of darkness enveloped by crackling blue lighting, the effects creating weird and eerie aspects. The entity's will casually unleashed a massacre of all save a very few in the Valley beyond its power to protect, including the Generals, who it spared to see the ruin of both sides brought by a God. By tens and hundreds of thousands had both sides fought. By tens and hundreds of thousands did both sides die, a harvest wrought by the unleashed power of the Ancient Ones, whose tombs marked the contours of all that was or would ever be, entire wings of existence dedicated to pinning them off, the fell cycle of dying and rising the melody to lull the dreaming Gods to endless dreaming Death. 

The power that had caused stars to burn or that had struck entire universes in darkness of smothering Void that had naught but nothingness within it. Entire peoples and weapons and lesser forms of life stood rigidly still, machines suspended in mid-air or even in mid-points of frantic blind loading and firing. Then a wave of tremendous and corrupt power seared forth and as one they died, leaving a valley strewn with the burning husks of crashed and exploded machines, with armor that shielded against the dreadful rays of the Imperial Army's lightning or plasma firearms and at least partially against the sheer raw power of the metanormal for those not born or shaped thus, be they children of the harshest military discipline or metanormals of great and dreadful power themselves, capable of fracturing worlds in death-throes if killed violently. Death consumed them all with the methodical ease of a farmer's scythe. 

The rolling wave coursed around and struck Deborah and she screamed with a terrible and rending sound that was accompanied by the wrathful laughter of the Starspawn, its hands extended in a blasphemous gesture of beneficence, its echoing sonic/psychic/mystical overtones smashing Vincent and those shielded by the entity that lurked within Vizornii Hezhatin around like ragdolls. The power that led her to scream led the awakened child of the Silver Key, the Umr' at Tawil known in other times and cycles as the Yog-Sothoth, simultaneously existence and the key to manipulating it to stop in its tracks.

The madness of uncontrolled death roiled upward, assailing the Psychopomp veiled by her own cloud with such overpowering force that as she screamed her eyes glowed with an eerie hell-light and her muscles began to rasp with the sheer force that had been unleashed. The Starspawn in its ancient malevolence leaned forward again, its body now a silver of supreme arrogance and confidence. All it took to unbalance the New Ones was a mere massacre? The jest of the Outer Gods to the Ancient Ones was one in poor taste indeed, and she looked forward to her father's rising and the resumption of his imperium with new goals directed at the ones who'd betrayed him. 

The scream stopped and a monster fell from the cloud, clad in an oversized variant of its own armor, still wearing the cape and loincloth without. Its face now resembled that of a fanged Ceratopsid, the same nine golden suns that blazed on a white face torn in pain and agony blazing still hotter, a brilliant and terrible blue light searing from them. What disconcerted the Starspawn was that while still immensely shorter than itself, the entity stood some hundreds of meters tall and it was looking at it with not the eyes of serene confidence expected from the Lightdancer but with the rasping muscles and rumbling breath of something much more dreadful. 

A Worldbreaker, a figure of towering fury and dread sufficient to make even a Starspawn pause in its arrogance and assumptions, and as Cthylla looked, the very furthest tip of the entity's claw lovingly brushed the unconscious Vincent, relieved to see that its love was shaken but unharmed. Then the entity lunged upward at the Starspawn, a mountainous bulk moving with the swiftness of light itself hurling amidst the immensity of the outer abysses. 

The impact scattered corpses in a cyclonic wind and the Starspawn flexed its tremendous wings and hurled itself into the sky as the Worldbreaker's claws rent into it in a primordial and savage fury. Roaring echoes spoke into the brain of the Starspawn. The very dangers of slipping control of a psychopomp whose very heroism was as much a means to forestall its own pain as otherwise, and the rather difficult problem that something completely indestructible was now extremely furious and in direct wrath at it. 

The child of the Silver Key transformed back into Vizornii Hezhatin. It had one task first, to ensure all left alive were removed from the ruined Pass that would soon be redubbed in reflection of the horrors that had been unleashed there, to purge their minds of the horrors that had been witnessed and felt. And then if needed to force the Worldbreaker and the Starspawn back into their cages with brutal force, if necessary. The unconscious, some bleeding, some raving with eyes closed and swatting at invisible foes and screaming at eyes that would not close and gnashing oozing mouths, felt peace as dark green hands closed around them and they vanished in weightlessness to peace, to awaken days later in an Imperial infirmary. 

The Citadel of the Temple Azarath: 

Zezhelanzanai gazed into her pool in shock. The very nature of what was seen on that world, the unleashing of the most dreadful sides of the one truly heroic of their whole brood, going back to their titan Godlike Father had jarred the Azar so much that for a moment she was lucid again, but flush with the power of millennia. It was a rare chance to aid and not to harm, and Zezhelanzanai sought to make the best of it. As Azarath briefly flexed and for a moment within time across countless worlds lived up to the soiled promises of decency and honor therein, the green armor of the Azar vanished in a cloud not of sickly smoke but a flashing of brilliant neon-green light. 
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 Chapter XVIII, 

XIX Tezhelnakazu: 

Suvacel's body outwardly rested in slumber, save for surges in the night that rocked the camp like minor earthquakes. Even so, outwardly, there seemed peace. The body rested in the land of Waking. In the land of Dreaming, however, the monster that had stalked her dreams the last two nights and had haunted her day with taunts and barks of fell laughter, a beast in armor that had at the ready a terrible swift sword of lighting and power and which was a primordial fear. She was not religious, none who had the power with hands to do what others did with the witch-fires of the mind would be religious. 

But the terrifying Force in these dreams was less a person and more a living storm made manifest, a verifiable tangible God confronting Its Creation, a predator that stalked its prey at the jungle's edge. In the strange chants and incanations, the blasphemous I-Nishi-Azarath! and the name Zezhelanzanai! there was monstrosity, a lurking horror that turned the pleasurable light of understanding into a balefire that blinded and scoured and scarred the eyes. It was a light that gleamed and scarred, a voice that echoed with the remarkable malice and understanding. She was not religious, but the voice seemed to echo as more than a mere voice, as the very power and unholy force of something that was more than flesh and blood, or if it had ever been had long-since ceased to be. 

Then that night the creature finally took its full manifestation. A brilliant and terrifying light seared her eyes and that mocking voice echoed, not with barely coherent thought-speech, but with a purpose: 

I am come to light a fire in the earth and even now it is kindled! 
I have found the clay and formed of it flesh, and the flesh has been given the breath of life! 
The force and the strength that is my will pours in light into darkness, it separates the good from the evil! 
To me has been given to stand with a scythe and to harvest the weak from the strong!
Of skulls of the harvested shall a throne be built, of blood that flows unhindered shall redemption come! 

A figure formed from the light. It was built like the Baranir of Earth, those strange creatures with long lower limbs, shorter upper ones, the only creatures of such kindred without heavy ridges on the face. Well, to a degree. The face was unnaturally round, almost dish-shaped with massive eyes with crystalline sclera that formed an eerie pattern like the cells upon stars. The monster towered over her, and even at her height that dwarfed the true Baranir, the beast grinning with an unnaturally wide smile that flowed with an eerie bonelessness. 

A mocking baying howl that split stars followed: 

As I stand I burn what I will heedless of what is consumed in ashes. 
In the future I shall howl for blood and care not from whence it flows
In the far future I shall stand an idol of dreams fulfilled in the most cruel of fashions. 

She was expected to whine and clutch her ears but her eyes glowed. 

"I've seen you in flashes of memories from my sisters and gene-sire." 

The monster laughed.. 

Of all my creation, it would be the weakest and the stupidest to seek to defy me. 
I who hang stars alight and set them to glow with time unhindered. 
I who formed you and those like you, the power and the glory that is mine to wield, mine to claim. 
I set stars to glow, I form the wine-dark sea. 
Mine the hands that heal, mind the hands that kill, mine the hands that sow, mine the hands that induce famine. 
Mine the song that makes the wind and the feline howl. 

The tall monstrosity in armor strode to her, lifting her effortlessly with a single hand by the throat, baying with the voice of a mad god that howled on a throne of skulls and then became eerie forms that shifted in no consistent pattern. The foundation-stone of Chaos: 

Not perhaps in full. Chaos is itself, there is no predictability. I am the firstborn and yet there was another who preceded me. 

The creature laughed and then hurled her with a minor flick of its wrist. She stopped in midair, hovering. 

"I hear idle boasting and the winds of madness." 

The creature gazed at her. 

So speaks the will of one who is arrogant, a simple-minded tank-brain. 

Suvacel laughed. 

"You call me simple?" 

The beast stopped and gazed at her, indecision on its face. 

"To you is given omnipotence, omniscience, ominpresence. The power to break and forge entire universes anew. This you use to appear in the land of dreaming because you are too brutal and straightforward with it to challenge the Lightdancer." 

Suvacel laughed with a terrible sound. 

"You call me a simple-minded tank-brain when you have the power of a God and wield it for petty things that are beneath many and many an ordinary mortal which you decisively are not. I do not wield psychic witchery because I need it not. My hands are the great tools I need. If I can achieve with the flesh great things, what need have I to invite Outer Light or Darkness alike? I am myself and I need be none other." 

The monster hissed. A finger beckoned and the eyes shifted, visions of infinite space that held her spellbound, a voice that rumbled with anger growling into her ear, causing her nerves to shriek in agony. 

You have no authority to speak against me. I formed you out of nothing. If it were to amuse me I could kill and resurrect you in a spiral until that flesh you boast of smashes entire planets in throes of madness. 

Then she awoke to find the monster holding her by the throat, physically, a bejewled gauntlet digging into her, the rumbling power of madness oozing from its voice that wormed through her thoughts. 

You alone of my creation have achieved the theft of something of the Lightdancer's. 
I shall let you fight her, tank-brain. 

The beast laughed, an echoing sound of cruelty and madness that flayed and infected the souls and minds and bodies of those who heard it. 

Oh, yes. You shall fight her. And when you fail this next time, the Creator shall take its Creation and give you the experience of what you were meant to be. 

Do not mistake my allowance of amusement as a potential to threaten me. 

Placed gently onto her feet, she then heard a psychic assault of such power that she yielded to it unthinkingly, one word that achieved its goal with not just her but all the camp. 


An army knelt, and before them stood in glowing terror of eldritch nature a figure in green armor who extended her right hand, palm upward, eyes gazing with not malice but a strange kind of detachment. 

They heard a voice that taunted them: 

Now you know what true power is. 


The Lightdancer smiled in meditation, a smile that sent a deep chill through the eyes of those who saw her. 

Her own voice echoed with the unfathomable power that united existence itself. 

So at last is the true puppetmaster revealed. How simple it is to manipulate those who see power only in the image of the mailed fist. 

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 The Restorationist Camp: 

Looking at Hezhatin, the Lightdancer's eyes suddenly narrowed. 

You said your father told stories of me in Azarath. Answer me a second question, is this Arsharzhin Hezhatin, or is it Shanar? 

Vizornii blinked. 

"My father is Arsharzin."

The Lightdancer blinked in turn. 

That does explain things. 

She favored Vizornii with a cryptic smile before saying: 

I have such things to show you.....

With that the universe seemed to warp and wend and twist, a strange sense of weightlessness jarring her instantaneously to a strange place. It was an eerie extension of the universe that seemed: 

"This is a fortress."

The Lightdancer retained the cryptic half-smile and then said: 

My Fortress of Eternity. From here the Iron Fist of the Universal Empire assails forth to confront the darkness that clusters and jibbers and aims for the throats of mortals of any level of sapience.

Looking around, Vizornii Hezhatin blinked, unable to tell which was up or down, or which angles were convex or concave. 

I brought you here to ask you a question that I must know the answer to, in a realm where the Truth shall set you free. 

The Lightdancer, casting off the armor assumed a brilliant, almost checkerboard-pattern dress with merely a slight gleam of her eyes. 

You have seen beings like me before. I could see in your memories familiarity with my sister, Arazakanu. The one you fought on the Jehexaderavcal Moon. There is another like us, who strides forth, who moves from time to time amongst mortals. You know of Azarath since you know of her. 

Her eyes narrowed. 

You and the red-skinned creature that look like you look physically identical to one of my kindred, we call her Zee. I take it that she is a parallel of yours, and I know what secret she hides. You........you are somewhat different but you all reflect a design. That of the monster that in origin was my kindred, whose power extends into the very fabric of existence itself as a festering virus coursing through both existence and its immensity with a terrible and debilitating fire. You have convinced me that you are not her work, in full. But having experience with Azarath, I have brought you here to see that her kindred are not all like her. We, all of us, are above Gods and Mortals alike-Hezhatin's breath caught with the casual utterance of what seemed profound blasphemy but had an undeniable kernel of truth to it that made the sensation choking her no less powerful-but we are not all giggling lunatics boasting about ourselves turning that power to work ill. 

And-Hezhatin looked as she saw a very tall and armored Barane moving, sharing with most of his kind the odd faces of that world, and she realized, too, the strange protuberance on the chin that made the Baranir unique-I have come for my closest ally and for a few weapons. The curse of bearing and using the black smoke is that as I am invulnerable to whatever forces others assail against me, so are my own creations in the hands of those other who seek to wield them, for good and ill alike. 

With that, the Lightdancer went to her compatriot and the two spoke in the coughing and sometimes throaty sounds of the Baranir, as the Lightdancer gathered a few strange devices, some of which were clipped around her belt, others seeming to vanish into thin air. 

Returning, the Lightdancer smiled with a more than cryptic and somewhat-sinister smile given the width and breadth of that smile across her face. Holding the hand of her compatriot in what seemed a Baranir gesture of affection, space warped and wended and there was that oh so strange and terrible sense of disorientation and she returned to the camp. Expecting to be arrested for going AWOL, she was shocked to see her timepiece registered a real-time passage of less than two seconds. Shrugging, she then saw her father going over to herself and the Lightdancer, and was shocked when instead of returning to the Beast at the sight of her with one of the Beyond Ones, her father embraced the Lightdancer in a hug that for most would have literally taken their breath away but for her was simply friendly, and then greeted the metallic-organic Baranir with a friendly nod. 

"You've come to help with Suvacel, then?" 

I have. The Lightdancer smiled. 

"Good." And with that, Arsharzin nodded to his daughter, who nodded back. The Lightdancer then calmly levitated, legs crossed, and began to check her weapons for both maintenance and performing any needed, as well as zeroing them in. It was a fortunate aspect of her own designs that they did not need to be maintained in the same sense that the manufacturing of mortal minds did.....
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Chapter XVI: 

cut for length )

Good answer. Now, I shall see how I may set things to rights.

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Chapter XV: 

As the Lightdancer hovered over the Crater, Suvacel snarled likewise. The seeming stalemate was broken when the  Beast lunged toward them both, kicking Suvacel on her back and tackling the Lightdancer, hurling her likewise and then fixing his hand on her throat.

That's enough, Lightdancer! You are a God among insects here, why wage a war with one of them? 

cut for length )

Within the Monarchist Camp:

Suvacel grinned as the pieces of the Lightdancer's armor began to hover and whirl around her. It would be amusing to take this and develop a device that would assure her place in perpetuity as a ruler, to be sure. But if you commanded the armor of a God, who needed ruling? With power like this in her hands, she could destroy and burn to her heart's content. She would ascend to higher spheres, would set her throne above the mountains of the Gods. All would kneel before her in the assembly of the masses across an Omniverse whose existence was confirmed by not just the sinister Shadow-woman of the Jehexaderavcal Moon but by the Lightdancers. She would be Most High, Ancient of Days, before whom all that is or would ever be would tremble.

Not a ruler, but a primordial force of destruction. The God and the Monster of primordial myth walking among mortals, now not merely God from the Machine but God empowered by the Machine.

The glowing energies cast eerie shadows as the armor was reforged and grew in size, a colossus forming. The light reflected in her eyes, now pools of eldritch and unnatural light that laughed with the mocking and baying howling of demons......

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Chapter XIV:

The Pass of the Dead, VII Telnakazu:

The boot collided with a sickening crunch that sent Suvacel careening into the ground, and with the impact, the Omega Program automatically sent her into a landing pattern designed to roll with the speed, not simply to crash into the ground with overwhelming force. Even as she began to rise to her feet, the being that hovered over her gazed down, body now once more white as snow, golden eyes all zeroed in on her.
Suvacel roared, calling to herself the same glowing energy. As her armor began to glow and her healed flesh became translucent, but now an appalling sickly green instead of the brilliant blue. Glowing once more with the eldritch power that made her semi-translucent, Suvacel roared a challenge as she hurled a fist at the Lightdancer. In response the Lightdancer simply made a fist of her own, catching Suvacel's punch with a punch of her own. The resulting shockwave disintegrated altogether troops and machines in the blast zone, and hurled everyone in the armies around like ragdolls, leaving only Vizornii Hezhatin standing, and one other in the field.

Arsharzin Hezhatin looked at the immense crater the impact of the battling godlike entities had made and then felt a familiar transformation beginning. As his eyes turned completely yellow, he cried in a voice that commanded even the attention of the Lightdancer:

Nothing can stop the Beast! The Beast is the strongest one there is!

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Chapter XIII: 

The Pass of the Dead, VII Telnakazu:

For all who survived the oncoming horrors, their initial signs were fairly straightforward. cut for length and content )
The familiar sensation of the Omega Program surged again, the world became clear. Light and darkness, friend and foe. And the monstrous creature over her whose foot was careening for her chest with a speed that her abilities could just barely detect in time to form a shield hopefully strong enough to resist the impact of that dark silver boot on her armor.......

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The Ruins of Omega Base, VII Telnakazu:

Shanar Hezhatin grinned as he stepped over the bloodied and charred corpses of his unexpected guests, kicking the helmet of one out of the way with a mocking, barking laugh. cut for length )


The Fortress of Eternity, VII Telnakazu:

That's interesting. Why would my old suit of armor appear in that kind of form? I believe I shall see just what manner of being decides to try to use technology that is not theirs to claim.


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The Vozhondil Pass, VII Telnakazun

As the armies began to prepare their opening bombardments, both timing them as events proved for a simultaneous mass firing, Suvacel clung to the peak of one of the mountains at the top of the pass single-handedly, espying from above the location of Vizornii Hezhatin. cut for length )
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Dawn of 28 Nizaku, Restoration Alliance Joint Forces Command Center: 

cut for length )

Very like that monster I encountered on the Jehexaderavcal Moon.

A brief memory flashed of a figure in odd red armor that had appeared out of shadows and taken her strongest blows and those of an unhinged and still-greater in power, cruelty, and madness Suvacel without harm. The memory passed but in a day of reorganization where a few brigades were castled to the right she could not but suppress a shudder. Then she noticed that Xaderavcar had detected her detection and cocked her head in interrogative fashion. Smiling a sickly grin, Vizornii Hezhatin attempted to move away and the Royal simply made a derisory rumble somewhere between a laugh and a snort and went on about her business.

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Dawn of 28 Nizaku, Independent Alliance Planetary Command Post:

"Do you have any idea what the little stunts you pulled last time mean for my own superiors? I have to justify working with this monstrous thing that's perfectly happy to turn on our own soldiers, someone who literally will make my best men turn and run if they think remotely that you might turn on them!"

Suvacel, idly picking her teeth and slouching on a couch in perfectly insubordinate fashion turned to the Cthol: 

"Did your men ever tell you why I was kept in a minimum security prison?cut for language )

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Vizornii Hezhatin, recognizing what Suvacel was up to, briefly dispelled her shield, her eyes glowing.

"You call yourself a God, but you are merely the schoolyard thug given the power of a God, lacking the driving will and iron force to wield it properly!" 

Her voice echoed with an awe-inspiring resonance that brought everyone save Suvacel, even Yerzhin Hezhatin, to his knees, clutching their ears, wailing in agony as the sound seemed to claw at their very souls.

"This is what you call a God when it is wielded properly!" Hezhatin's hands glowed and seemed to form gauntlets of a crackling bluish-white lighting flame, Suvacel's eyes narrowing with suspicion and then the gauntlets struck her with seismic force, hurling her into the mountainside she had begun to crumble. Such was the impact that the mountain fell upon her, and Suvacel's eyes could briefly be seen getting very wide and then narrowing in extreme anger, the smoke and rubble of the falling mountain shrouding the day in blackness. Vizornii Hezhatin, meanwhile formed the same energetic-pattern into an equivalent to a strange kind of armor, the whole giving her normally green skin a semi-transparent bluish coloration, and her motions leaving traces after them in the air, retaining her bi-location now likewise clad as a back-up.

A deep and horrendous roar like the grinding of two boulders together echoed from the mountain, as several chunks of the mountain miles long were tossed into the air and Suvacel rose from the mountain, unharmed save for a dust-covering, eyes now glowing a deep and brilliant crimson hue. Suvacel stood amidst the crumbled ruins of a mountain, and then hovered into the air. Looking at the twin Vizornii Hezhatins, eyes glowing with fell light, she hissed:

"Very convenient, isn't it? They make us gods and then condemn us for daring to act as is our natural right! How can mortals make gods and then demand us act like them? We ceased to be them when we stood up and cracked Heaven and subdued the infinite darkness of the land of the dead!"

As the Vizorniis merged, Suvacel smiled and then turned to Yerzhin Hezhatin, who flew up to her and struck her with a wave of telekinetic force.

"As I said, all that power and a mind beneath the strength at your disposal. Disgusting."

Whirling around, Suvacel snarled.

"I am a god! You are an insect, a mewling whelp beneath me, to a point that I need only descend upon you in power and in glory and send you to the land of the dead! Go now, while I still allow it."

Yerzhin's eyes flashed and Suvacel's eyes widened. The telepathic scrambler was such a simple move, really. And it was this that set her off finally.

Before he could react, Yerzhin Hezhatin felt a massive piledriver-like blow that carried with it a shock wave that manifested in the air, visibly, barely forming a telekinetic shield around himself that enabled him to land only winded, creating a massive crater. The monster that stood over him then roared, falling to the ground and becoming quadrupedal. The armor around it mutated, becoming like a secondary skin, and the monster's face changed. The ensuing hulking creature with its monstrously Xentenir-esque mouth towered over Yerzhin and over most of the battlefield, reaching the size of the great armored behemoths that made up the best exploiting arm the Imperial Bizjarran Armed Forces could offer.

Her voice rumbled:

"Behold, the God you have made now turns to you in judgment."

With that, her form disappeared into a blur and armies on both sides howled as soldiers' bodies were crushed by an overwhelming force they could not see, artillery and armor shattered into firey ruins, the flames illuminating the path of the lighting force consuming them, planes attempting to prepare to fire and doing so uselessly. Vizornii, now truly angry, formed a third bi-location, more swiftly clad in the glowing energetic-armor than the other two, and they all three zoomed in on Suvacel as her monstrous form tore through yet another armored fighting vehicle, laughing maniacally with the throat of an animal with a sound akin to the sinister baying of a monstrous creature from beyond the stars.

Suvacel then rose up, the monstrous form of the oversized Limb-Crawler roaring in a deep foghorn-like bellow as its twin-pronged, heavily-fanged lower jaw widened, forming a kind of energy from its throat. The three Vizornii Hezhatins instead moved around it, one in front of the monster, one on its side, one behind it. Each formed weapons, the first forming a shield and a massive mace, the second two forming spectral weapons akin to the VG-class plasma rifle. The Limb-Crawler seemed to grin and then prepared to unleash the flames growing in its throat when the spectral mace of energy smashed into one of its eyes, causing the creature to fire the blast into the air, taking down the central co-ordination airplane of the Monarchist side, and then the spectral VG-class weapons unleashed a glowing blast akin to the discharge of the plasma rifle. Suvacel, the rest of her undamaged eyes widening at the horrifying nature of pain that she had seldom, if at all, felt hitherto, then transformed back into her own form, and decided that it was now time to listen to her own Program which was indicating that a tactical retreat was required.

In the wake of the tremendous devastation unleashed by the Omegas, the two sides in the Valley of the Dead called a halt to operations in a mutual truce that would last a Standard Week, the time just sufficient to bury the dead and for each side to begin to reappraise its place. Vizornii, however, turned down an offer of leave-time knowing that if she did so, the monster on the other side would immediately disregard the truce and crush its enemies like a juggernaut from the Dark Realms. For both sides, the ensuing Standard Week would prove a vital time to rest, recuperate, and decide how strategies could work when individuals worth the entirety of the rest of the force could easily derail the best-laid plans and strategies. In addition, there was the rather more mundane business of allotting ammunition and establishing fire plans for the next phase of the campaign.

On the first evening of the campaign, Vizornii Hezhatin learned from Yerzhin that the commander of the Imperial Throneworld Sector, High General Felakazundu, wished to see her and that while the request was phrased as a wish, that it was an order. With hesitation, Vizornii teleported to the General's HQ, there waiting outside of it patiently while learning he was with a distinguished guest. When an orderly told her to go in, she did enter, and her eyes widened.

"Hello, Father." she said.

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As Suvacel's power surged forth, Yerzhin Hezhatin began to laugh. The laugh began with a few gasping sounds and then grew into a deep, sinister rolling sound that seemed of both ear and mind.
cut for length )

halialkers: Red Rosa Luxemburg. Woman with round face and big hair (Hadassa)
Outskirts of Ekevanzhir Prison, Hataria, Dawn of 27 Nizaku: 

The Task Force paused outside the prison. While under orders to maintain strictest silence in communications, that didn't stop the soldiers from griping in earshot.

cut for length )
halialkers: Victor in semi-profile position, civilian mode. (Victor)
The Pass of Gold, the Dawn of 27 Nizaku: 

In the wake of the first and most devastating battle thus far fought on the Throneworld during the war, both sides spent time retooling their intended strategies. What had seemed a matter of hours before this began soon slid into days, and it was to be two Imperial Standard Days after the intended nighttime preparation that the attack would finally go in. This time the intention was to unleash the newly minted sergeant with the aerial strike force which would be unleashing a softening-up set of raids, before the infantry would begin an offensive much more properly co-ordinated than the first one, due to having integrated self-propelled artillery of the regular and the missile variety to bolster firepower.

The aerial battlecraft took off that morning, and Hezhatin, after focusing consciously on the exercises her cousin had taught her, soon entered the entranced-like state of the Omega Program, taking off into the air with the impact of a hypersonic shockwave following her. The aerial battlecraft began to swoop down on enemy positions, following track records identified by Lord Hezhatin, but as their missiles and bombs began to fall a curious kind of firey energy-shield warded away the strikes so that they detonated outside the region where the blast would affect the dug-in position. The Omega Program soon identified the source and the nature of these shields, and covering Vizorniii Hezhatin's body in that lightning-fire like energy, she zoomed through one of the shields with an impact like the eruption of a volcano. Landing, Hezhatin's energy-shielded body faced a gigantic being which, displeased at the impact on its magic, had transformed into a 30-meter tall figure of fire and molten lava, its voice roaring with a sound like boulders grinding against each other. The creature created forms of what seemed like molten rock sheathed in flame, which consolidated into a gigantic maul and shield suiting a thirty-meter tall monster of lava and flame and rock. As it launched itself toward her, the Omega Program created a more consolidated shield around Hezhatin, who proceeded to zoom toward the Fire-Jotunn with a set of lighting-fast blows that sounded like peals of thunder. The blows successfully smashed into the shield, forcing the Fire-Jotunn back, while Vizornii sensed the power of Yerzhin Hezhatin's mind now turning toward other Jotnar.

As Hezhatin then moved further for a set of what appeared to be more blows, the Jotunn braced itself, until Hezhatin began to zoom around it at super-speed, accelerating faster and faster and faster to the point that she proceeded to make a kind of anaerobic small vacuum that choked out the flame of the Jotunn, which returned to a human-like size, attempting to assert its power through the cyclone, and failed. As it did so, a mass wave of artillery using counterbattery fire eliminated this one battery. As the other Jotnars' power wavered just for a few seconds, more directed firepower launched itself onto the various batteries, removing some of them, the Jotnar in other cases shielding the artillery. The strikes continued, as Vizornii replaced the individual attack approach with a massive set of Omega-bombardments, individual small masses of energy splitting into more masses, the resulting scatterized attack disrupting more artillery and stunning some of the Jotnar, while angering others.

Though the artillery was not as devastated as the Army Group Commander wished, he decided to authorize the immediate launching of the first wave, organized in a set of joint-arm breakthrough task forces, heavily tilted to firepower, the infantry riding in the more heavily armed and armored, albeit slower, personnel carriers and joined by armor and artillery in an attempt to force by firepower the result, the soldiers on both sides showed a relief at an ability to have a more or less 'ordinary' fight, the kind of battle that they were prepared for. The artillery and armor began further softening-up firepower as the first infantry equipped with anti-armor weaponry opened fire in their own right......

halialkers: Victor in semi-profile position, civilian mode. (Victor)
Hezhatin's eyes glowed as his deep voice continued to rumble:cut for length )

While the commanding officer of the Monarchists privately wrestled with doubt, her Jotunn subordinates simply acted in confidence. If she was wrong, they had a plan up their sleeves. After all, victors were never court-martialed......


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September 2017

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