One did not need to be an elf to hear the demon's roar, but it did help. From his spot near the summit of Barrow Hill, Nalifan turned and gazed down upon the battlefield. He immediately recognized the vrocks circling in the sky and the hezrou demons advancing across the ground but it was the giant goristro that held his attention. The Abyssal monstrosities were frequently used living siege engines by the demon lords that owned them. It was no mystery to him what it would do to the gate, the walls, the army on the walls, and the city beyond. Not to mention the people inside, although the painfully intense brightness above the gate might have something to say about it.
The drow turned his attention back to his spell while the Outsiders clashed at the foot of the hills. The earth groaned and shook as Nalifan invoked elemental binding earth and stone to his will. A giant sheet of turf and sod tore itself free from the hillside as if the flesh on a giant limb was being degloved. Nalifan flayed the earth from the surface of the hill, tearing up grass, rock, and soil. Tearing open the resting places of countless dead and spilling dry bones and rotting corpses into the mix. Ten thousand graves were violated in a dozen heartbeats. The wave continued to grow.
Above the gatehouse the wheel of eyes glared at the host before it with the fraction of divine wrath that was its to hold. Vrock demons fell from the sky, ablaze with celestial fire. The silver spears flew from the hands of celestial hierarchs in lines that were ruler-straight, pithing hezrou demons like frogs on a vivesectionist's board. After each strike the spears reversed their flight and flew straight back into the hierarchs' hands for they were subject to their masters' will in accordance to their making and the law. The spears flew again and again, leaving demons to writhe and dissolve into primordial slime.
Four voices rose from the four throats of the celestial imperator. Each spoke of the law as it was in the beginning, when the universe arose from the chaotic spew of the Abyss and barriers were raised to separate what was wholesome from the filth that sprung from the primordial source of creation. The law bound, the law separated, and the law conferred Authority. Authority that was Sarabiel's to invoke and to wield.
The cyclones tore themselves into gusts and gales and the earth titans crumbled back to soil for the law had Dominion. The nalfeshnees huddled in the goristro's shadow as the ranks of vrocks and herzous were decimated. The huge demon surged forward, too ignorant to recognize the foes that it faced and too stupid to comprehend that it should know fear.
Rays of of celestial fire scorched its skin, but an Abyssal siege engine would not be much use if fire could easily destroy it. The goristro roared and continued its advance. Spear spears pierced its unholy flesh, but they were little more than pin pricks to giant demon. It neither waved nor slowed. Behind, marching intently but on legs a fraction of the goristro's, advanced the King of Tribes wearing the bronze harness of a barrow-king.
Sarabiel raised his rod and pointed at the goristro. Thunder roared, louder than the demon's roar, and the great beast staggered back. He lashed out with scourge and the strands stretched for a hundred yards so they could reach the demon. Black blood splattered through the air as the star tipped strands tore open unholy flesh. He gestured with his empty hand and three mouths muttered spells. Blue-white lightning flashed. Gold glyphs burned in the air around the goristro. Sky blue runes blazed into existence around Sarabiel. The demon roared and shook its head, but did not yield.
One of the nalfeshnees raised a talon-paw haloed in crackling darkness and the gold glyphs flared and died. The launched a beam of narcerous green mixed with hell-red, acid yellow, and midnight blue light at the hierarch on the left. Armour corroded under its awful mark and golden ichor boiled from the wound.
The spears sang. One missed and the other pierced a nalfeshnee in the shoulder. The wounded boar-demon roared and closed. The hierarch awaited him with the Spear of Law returning to his right hand and the Sword of Death in his left. The other unleashed a crackling ball of black lightning from between its paws. The blast staggered the wounded hierarch, but did not down him. Light blazed in its eyes and it spoke a word of law and the demon fell the earth, stunned.
The other nalfeshnee charged the celestial hierarch. The spear took the wounded demon low and the sword struck high. The demon blocked with its arm and the blade cleaved through, down to the bone. Black blood sprayed from the wound as the demon pushed forward, driving the spear through its body and through its lower back. It raised its other paw and smashed the hierarch out of the air. The ground shook with the celestial's impact. The demon fell upon hierarch to rend, to tear, to gauge open, to feast.
The Sword of Death tore through its mouth and out the back of its skull. The hierarch threw the half ton mass of demon of its body like a raider throwing a baby against a wall. The celestial rose to its feet and ascended into the air as if it was being pulled up on invisible wires. The hand of the goristro closed upon it.
The mighty demon tore the celestial apart like a cruel child tearing apart his younger sister's doll. Angelic blood boiled into golden vapor and inhuman flesh transubstantiated into shimmering light that faded into nothingness. The hierarch's death was not without cost. As the goristro turned its attention to shredding the wounded angel, Sarabiel was left unharried. The wrath of the Warden of the House of the Trinity fell upon the demon lord's fist.
The other hierarch sung a spell of banishment and a dark rift opened behind the surviving nalfeshnee and sucked it in before closing and vanishing. Sarabiel spoke with all four mouths and struck with all four hands. The Rod of Authority shattered the goristro's left hand. The jagged ends of broken bones protruded from the ruined mass that was once a hand that could punch a basalt wall without suffering harm. The scourge took the demon's left eye in an explosion of light and wrath.
Golden chains materialized to bind the goristro's limbs. Others anchored the demon to the earth and more bound him to clouds in the sky. The demon threw back its head and screamed. Massive muscles flexed and heaved. The earth shook. Horsemen in the Khaduli lines struggled to control their steeds while the King of Tribes stumbled and fell to his knees. Two chains from the sky were torn free and dissolved away. Sarabiel flew close to the struggling demon. The Sword of Death swung. The mammoth head toppled from the demon's shoulders and fell to the ground.
Krazad watched the Outsiders tore each other to pieces. The enemy had brought stronger beings to bear than expected but perhaps that was to be expected. With so many of their nations having fallen, the house dweller gods were as desperate as their worshipers. But where was the elf? Tzerika and the others could smash the walls and assist the King of Tribes, but where was the elf's hand. He should have aided the celestials. It would be a foolish waste not to and the elf was no fool. Where was he?
He felt the magic first. Strong and growing stronger and not coming from the city, but close enough to matter. He turned his head and saw. He spoke a spell and his sight became clearer, piercing through the distance to see exactly what the elf, and it had to be the elf, had raised.
He had flayed the hill, turning the mass of earth and tone into a titan of moss and grass and moist black earth. Broken tree limbs and tombstones protruded from the vaguely humanoid mass but that's not what caught his eyes. Skulls and femurs, ribs and spines, bloated and emaciated corpses were part of the ghastly mix. Elemental magic might have been used to raise this horror but it was necromancer that fed. A city's worth of violated graves were mixed into the obscenity. If Krazad's hands were less stained by atrocity he would have been rendered speechless.
The giant took a step. It was slow, but the immense length of its stride made it deceptively fast. "Tzerika," Krazad called out with a messenger spell. "Forget the gate. Look to the left. Kill that thing."
There was no response for a moment. "Then," she sent, "this thing is of the elf. Yours to kill."
"The elf is mine to kill. Deal with this, I will deal with its maker."
Last edited by LadyTevar
on 2017-01-30 10:46pm, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: ImpFeline fixed typos
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.Librium Arcana