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originally posted in:The New Dojo
originally posted in: THE DOJO
11/29/2016 3:05:25 AM
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[i]North, south, east, west... Memorize every feature. Remember to make notes later on compendium.[/i] Lucien's attention was solely focused on Fenrir's story. So focused in fact, he was processing the data given to him unintentionally out of pure habit: a sign of his full focus. "What happened to these wolves next?"
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  • Edited by Sanctus Caesar: 12/4/2016 2:38:56 AM
    "[b]They grew up...[/b]" [i]He muttered to himself, a sad smile playing his lips. For a moment, he stops, and the rhythm pauses. Then he shakes his head, resuming the beat of the forest and getting in tuned once more. He waited a few more seconds, then began again.[/i] "[b]The King quickly recognized the boys potential, noting especially the prowess and ability of the Alpha. He recognized it, and understood the danger that it posed. He did as any King would do, and separated them, sending each to a different region to keep their influence limited. He also worried about the king of Dwarves, whose kingdom was within the mountain border of the Kingdom. The two nations worked together, and the dwarves built much of the Kingdom, wishing only for protection. As the Wolves influence delved into the Dwarves forces, their King pressured for further restriction of these warriors. Thus, their separation was made permanent, and given more enforcement. However, this proved to be a mistake, as separate, they gathered more followers than they ever could have if together. They also disregarded orders when called for by their brothers. They would abandon their post, their mission, their duty, and they would face the punishments upon their successful return. And they [i]always[/i] returned successfully. Their legends grew as the respect others had for them did, and they quickly garnered followings within their respective regions. These followings quickly became loyal factions, and their military prowess earned each promotions, until they headed their armies. It was then the King allowed to them specific positions, deeming them 'his' Wolves. Alpha had had the most difficulty advancing, as he was in the Capital, next to the King. However, his ambition won through, until he had climbed up to the General of Armies, a position only surpassed by the King himself. As such, for Alpha, the newly formed position was a demotion, and an insult. The others remained oblivious to this, constantly warring with the neighboring nations and darker threats. To the North were the Savages, men of great strength and durability, wild in their combat and frenzied in their attacks. To the East lay the lands of the Vorstaat, a race of beings corrupted by dark magic and brutal culture into things more beast then man. To the West were the Elves, Fallen angels who had cast their lot with neutrality in the Fall, and lost their wings forthwith. These were fierce enemies, to be sure, but the hardest to rile up into War. To the South lay the other Kingdoms of man, constantly warring among themselves. However, when they joined efforts, they were a force to be reckoned with. The worst threat, though, came from within. Rising as the Wolves did, the Cult of the Melkorian Star rose, pronouncing the Wolves the heralds of the End. They worked in secret, gathering Armies, from the military and the civilian populous alike. These were the foes of the Alpha, and their struggle was mighty indeed, with purges and inquisitions wreaking havoc on the peasantry. This Cult was dangerous, mostly because they displayed an affinity to group multiple peoples together. Cultures and hatreds, religions and rivalries fell, as they united anyone and everyone, secretly. As such, they were fought the hardest, trying to keep them contained and away from the enemies. However, it was inevitable. A sect of mages within the Cult journeyed North, up to the Temple of the Frost, a shrine constructed by the Vorstaat to their dark deity and their only presence in the North. There, they performed a ritual, opening the gates to Hell and unleashing it on Earth. Back in the Kingdom, they pulled taut their web, raising the enemies at the borders in unison. These enemies were stayed only through the valiance of the Armies and the Wolves, their own disunion working against them as they clashed with the singular entity of the Kingdoms Army. As the enemy gathered, the Cult struck heavily, riots springing up to distract the Central Army and prevent reinforcements from bolstering the other Armies. This continued for years as Hell gathered to strike. The North fell with the arrival of the forces of Hell. Omega stood against the tide of demons and monsters, holding off as best he could, but he was overwhelmed. His last act was to order a full retreat of his Army, sending them to bolster the Central Army, even as the others did the same. The Capital would make or break the Kingdom. It was in the city of the Throne that their Fate would be decided. For a month more they held, though wearily. Street by street, they were pushed back, until they were within the walls of the citadel itself. It was then that Sigma used his last ditch effort, at the behest of Alpha, using a dark magic. He tore from the demons their own energy, ripping out the literal life-force of Hell from them. The Vorstaat mages, the elves, the Savage Priests, and the southern Mages, also, were ripped apart as their magic was taken. Sigma prepared his own life, as this would most assuredly kill him as well. He focused the energy onto the enemy forces, ready to obliterate them, and released. However, nothing happened. No, that wasn't true. Something had happened, something he hadn't noticed in his concentration on controlling the power. The target had been...[i]shifted[/i]? With a surge, the energy rushed into the being who had orchestrated this entire thing, who had headed the Cult, gathered the enemies, and sent the sect of Cult mages to the North. The collective energies of five legions of Hell, and the Mages of all the enemy forces now resided within one man. The Alpha. In the moment of casting, he had used his magic, minimal though it was, to shape it a little differently. And now, now the Alpha was the single most powerful being that walked the Earth. However, this wasn't the end. Even as the Alpha seized the Kingdom, the Armies, the Enemies, and the peoples under an iron grasp, the Wolves still stood. Rumors spread of the Wrath of the North, a force against which, the reinforcements from Hell were shattering. Quickly, the remaining forces of Man moved to the North. The Alpha quickly turned his gaze there, organizing his now vast forces to assault this new threat. As the Wolves arrived, they found both dwarves and men. These were outmatched by the Alpha 10 to 1, but still they fought, and more dissenters worked the courage to journey there each day. Unfortunately, Theta was captured, and as Alpha still considered him a friend, he was kept, as something of a pet. In a fit of madness at his failure in keeping their nature's true, Theta tried to kill Alpha with a bomb he had constructed, but only killed himself, Alpha's newfound power keeping him alive. The last Wolf, Beta, successfully managed to travel to the North, joining the Wrath there and merging it's forces and his. As he arrived, he quickly found the figure around which they had gathered. A sort of pilgrimage began then, a quest to close the gates, which they hoped would shut off the majority of Alpha's new power. Even then, with them putting constant distance between them and gaining more men each day, they were caught on a frozen plane near the Temple. The Alpha met them in battle, and when challenged by Beta, immediately killed him with a blast of power. It was then that the Wrath of the North was revealed. The Omega. In his dying, he had been saved as the Hellspawn passed, retrieved and healed by dwarves under spells of invisibility. He had been imbued with magic that he would survive, and those same mages now gathered their own magics to enact the final plan of the Beta. In the final days before the confrontation, the Wolves concluded one thing. The World was doomed. The Gates, according to lore, could not be closed, and Hell would overcome the Earth. Ironically, the fiction of the Alpha's cult proved to ultimately true. As such, they decided to settle with sealing it by destroying the universe. The Mages used the light version of Sigma's final spell, all the forces of the North except for the Omega volunteering the lives to the spell. This power was granted to the Wrath of the North, and as all the others faded, he fought. He slaughtered the Alpha's Army, drawing in their energy, until he stood on par with his old friend. The two stood in silence, staring at each other. 'Why, Vrael?' Said the Alpha. His voice was genuinely sad, and his mind overrun by memory. '[i]Why?! You slaughter our men, destroy our King and Kingdom, and become the Herald of Hell, and you have the audacity to ask WHY?! Cecil, you did this yourself, and you WILL pay, the World be d*mned![/i]' Was the Omega's only retort. Their struggle was Titanic, shaking the foundations of the Earth, and rupturing its surface. Neither could gain an upper hand, even as the sky sundered and the Gate of Hell expelled more and more of it's forces, who were quickly consumed and converted into energy for either of the Wolves.[/b] [spoiler]Part 1/2[/spoiler]

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  • [spoiler]Part 2/2[/spoiler] [b]Speed and Skill vs Strength and Ability, the two fought on for what seemed like centuries, parrying, countering, wounding, healing. They never tired, they never paused. Eventually, however... The Alpha''s blade slipped going down an inch further than he wished. The Omega, who had now fought him for an eternity in his eyes, saw the advantage, and took it. He slammed the blade, sending it flying out into the cracked Earth, and the lifeblood of the planet that now streamed the surface. With that, he stabbed the Earth, a rumbling coming from the planets core as the artifact was consumed. He proceeded to beat the Alpha, his Strength pummeling the shell of a man to a pulp. Knees, fists, elbows, feet, he used them all, breaking every bone and crushing every muscle and nerve the his friends body. Even then, the Alpha refused to die. Grabbing him by his now ruined chest plate, he threw him into the Hell Gate. Even then, the Alpha weakly grasped the sides, looking to his friend as his hands barley held either side of the frame. 'Please, Vrael, not this! D*MN YOU, NOT THIS!' The Omega merely looked at him, and said, '[i]For them, Cecil. For them.[/i]' and promptly kicked the Alpha in the chest, d*mning him to Hell. He walked back, overlooking the ruin of the planet, the seam of it's crust even now bulging, ready to split and explode, destroying his home. He retrieved his sword, turned, and focused all of his power into it, including the surge from banishing the Alpha. He slashed, cutting the Gate in half, and smiled grimly as all things ended, and the universe itself collapsed around him.[/b]" [i]His smile, still sad, turns to grim satisfaction as he stops, pointing the blade up into the air. It is now sharp, its imperfections burned away. His hand ceases to burn, and the blade dissolves into blue fire. He cleans up, then looks to the older man.[/i] "[b]Was that adequate, old soldier? I apologize if I make a poor story teller, but I appreciate your attention throughout.[/b]"

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