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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2018 7:46:58 GMT -8
From the tall arched window, close onto eighty spans above the ground, not far below the top of the large tower, Kilik could see for miles. His thoughts drifted to the man who had seemed on the point of swallowing the world, the man who had swallowed entirely too much of it, called by some "The Dark One", sealed by those who said they protected the land. None who supported him could know that the seals were weakening again. His agents, those who served him though they had never seen his face, had a habit of coming and going without warning. Who would suspect that this time he had not gone, but been taken? Something very like a shrill laugh bubbled in Kilik's throat, but he stifled it with gritted teeth. This was no time to lose himself to the madness, not just yet.
He thought of a woman, a demoness. He was her servant years ago, tasked with finding a way to become stronger to be of better use to her. He was faithful, obedient, intelligent and willful. He had sworn to find a way and return to her if she ever called out to him, or if he ever found her again to rejoin at her side. It had taken years of toiling, scheming, conniving and researching ways to exploit the sinful desires of men and women, but he found the way! Now he could return back to her, to the one who he owed so much to.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2018 7:47:15 GMT -8
Suddenly, a ball of pure flame the size of a man’s head arched toward the ground, sizzling and hissing, then another, dozens. Smoke began to rise from burning wagons, first gray wisps, then thickening black pillars.
It had begun, and there could be only one ending.
Not all reached their targets. Balls of fire streaking through the air, some large as horses now, silver lightning stabbing toward the ground like spears from the heavens, sometimes suddenly darting aside as if striking an invisible shield, or erupted violently in midair. Roars and crashes filled the air, warring with shouts and screams.
Kilik stared at the sky in delight. No, he hadn't had a hand in it, but he had predicted it. He had armed men and women with artifacts to use "when fire rains down from the sky" and from the looks of it, the artifacts were being used. Artifacts that bonded with their user and imbued them with great power, but at a price! These people would be confronted with a choice by the spirits within the artifacts, to have half of their remaining lifespan sacrificed in exchange for that life force being multiplied and born anew as supernatural powers.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2018 7:47:42 GMT -8
Those who disagreed would drop the artifact as if burned and suddenly forget what they had even been doing and go back to their mundane lives without ever knowing what they had been offered, or the great power that had forfeited. Those who agreed would feel power welling up inside of their bodies, full to bursting, composed of their minds and bodies being boosted beyond human limits at the cost of a long and healthy life.
And a small fraction of that power, wielded by each artifact wielder, swelled up inside of Kilik, a raging torrent of power, sharpening his vision and enhancing his senses. It required strict control, forcing it to do what you want without succumbing to its seduction and becoming addicted to it. With the power came trickles of memory from those who channeled, with it the lore of the land, of battles won and lost, of treaties signed and of an endless succession of monarchs and powerful religious leaders.
It was only a matter of time now.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 3, 2018 5:59:52 GMT -8
Some men had followers, others born with great power. The man who stood on the docks of the capital city was neither.
Over a hundred people had been bonded to artifacts he had made, gaining superhuman powers and abilities. Each union brought him more power, more memories, more knowledge. Bandits who had tried to catch him off guard when stepping out of his portal from the demon world had been dispatched with greater ease than he could remember ever happening before.
They had not been weak, ruffians of two or more races who slipped through the cracks like so many like them did, young men and women who each could have thrown a grown man around like a rag doll. Fighting him must have felt to them like a child of five summers trying to take down a full grown man. He wasted no opportunity waiting by their fallen forms until they woke up in turn, offering them an artifact to help them become stronger and more powerful.
The payoff was greater than it was with ordinary humans and their power and memories flowed through his entire body, strengthening it and sharpening his senses. The stronger he became, though, the more aware he became of just how high power scaled in this kingdom.
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