September 8th, OE 102
The Fabula Forest
Throne of the King of Ruin
8:20 PM
The frigid air met Gail - or rather, Perfectio's skin. The light shone overhead, illuminating his fair features as the white expanse before him stretched out. Behind him lay the body of Johan, his purpose now fulfilled. And before him?
Was fate.
The Lord of Ruin, destruction incarnate, began to walk.
Every footfall was purposeful, leaving a deeper and deeper imprint in the snow behind him. A dark aura glowed about his frame, streaming off his body, a drop of oil in an ocean of bleached stillness. He reveled in it. Drank it all in. All of the power that his subjects had so painstakingly harvested for him, all for this moment. For he would not be content to sit and wait for the humans of this world to force their way past his doorstep, oh no.
Even if his fate was sealed, he would not accept it lightly. Only he and he alone was privy to the secrets of this world, and those who tried to suffocate them, to silence him, would pay dearly for their arrogance.
As he walked, there was a thunderous crash. Then another. And another. One by one, his legion fell in behind him, matching his pace, the sound of their titanic footfalls echoing his own, until even the mighty Fatum rose in his wake, shearing through the ice, the hail, to serve its master. His hands moved, twitching at his sides, and he closed his eyes in silent jubilation, teh conductor of a silent orchestra that none could hear. The Keeper of Memories smiled.
His black heart sang, and all the Ruina sang with him.
It was a good day to die.
With a flick of his fingers, the tide of horror surged toward the sky - and vanished.
September 8th, OE 102
Antarctica, Alkahest Base Camp
8:30 PM
The Dimensional Storm churned and whirled. It was, for all intents and purposes, quite the cushy assignment from the perspective of an Alkahest employee: ever since the "Incident" that had taken place some six months or so ago, the El Millennium had been inert - sheltered by that terrible maelstrom overhead. Their routine was much the same every day - observe and report. Whoever had placed it there - the intern thought - had clearly meant for the beast below to never awaken, ever again.
"Hey... Look..." Mumbled a voice nearby, some other poor soul forced to monitor this Godless wasteland.
He scowled, and rubbed the snow clear of his visor. Nothing ever happened-
But it was true.
Telltales winked on and needles clicked back and forth rhythmically, the sign of instruments being forced to measure a payload far in excess of what they were designed to. The two craned their heads to the sky - just in time to see the rolling blackness that billowed forth, forming a dread cloud over the storm that eclipsed it in size. There was only a brief pause, before the reality of the situation asserted itself - and someone spoke the truth, the word they were all afraid to hear:
Even knowing that these were what fed them, what the terrors from beyond fed upon, there was no denying it. The survey team scrambled what weapons it could, the Masouki rising to their feet-
But they were not the target. Not this time, at least.
With a horrible noise, like the vomiting of a thousand story tall monster, the black portal disgorged its contents into the storm below.
Ruina. Hundreds - Thousands - of them. Charging into the breach. Pushing. Forcing aside the barricade. Not even that imposed by their "betters" would stand before them.
And above, looming over it all, directing the fray - was the Lord of Ruin himself. His expression wild, watching the devastation below as so many of their number were ripped apart - surging ahead, concentrating all of their will toward their ultimate prize.
Today, they would not be denied.
The Fabula Forest
Throne of the King of Ruin
8:20 PM
The frigid air met Gail - or rather, Perfectio's skin. The light shone overhead, illuminating his fair features as the white expanse before him stretched out. Behind him lay the body of Johan, his purpose now fulfilled. And before him?
Was fate.
The Lord of Ruin, destruction incarnate, began to walk.
Every footfall was purposeful, leaving a deeper and deeper imprint in the snow behind him. A dark aura glowed about his frame, streaming off his body, a drop of oil in an ocean of bleached stillness. He reveled in it. Drank it all in. All of the power that his subjects had so painstakingly harvested for him, all for this moment. For he would not be content to sit and wait for the humans of this world to force their way past his doorstep, oh no.
Even if his fate was sealed, he would not accept it lightly. Only he and he alone was privy to the secrets of this world, and those who tried to suffocate them, to silence him, would pay dearly for their arrogance.
As he walked, there was a thunderous crash. Then another. And another. One by one, his legion fell in behind him, matching his pace, the sound of their titanic footfalls echoing his own, until even the mighty Fatum rose in his wake, shearing through the ice, the hail, to serve its master. His hands moved, twitching at his sides, and he closed his eyes in silent jubilation, teh conductor of a silent orchestra that none could hear. The Keeper of Memories smiled.
His black heart sang, and all the Ruina sang with him.
It was a good day to die.
With a flick of his fingers, the tide of horror surged toward the sky - and vanished.
September 8th, OE 102
Antarctica, Alkahest Base Camp
8:30 PM
The Dimensional Storm churned and whirled. It was, for all intents and purposes, quite the cushy assignment from the perspective of an Alkahest employee: ever since the "Incident" that had taken place some six months or so ago, the El Millennium had been inert - sheltered by that terrible maelstrom overhead. Their routine was much the same every day - observe and report. Whoever had placed it there - the intern thought - had clearly meant for the beast below to never awaken, ever again.
"Hey... Look..." Mumbled a voice nearby, some other poor soul forced to monitor this Godless wasteland.
He scowled, and rubbed the snow clear of his visor. Nothing ever happened-
But it was true.
Telltales winked on and needles clicked back and forth rhythmically, the sign of instruments being forced to measure a payload far in excess of what they were designed to. The two craned their heads to the sky - just in time to see the rolling blackness that billowed forth, forming a dread cloud over the storm that eclipsed it in size. There was only a brief pause, before the reality of the situation asserted itself - and someone spoke the truth, the word they were all afraid to hear:
"...Ruina! The Ruina are here!"
Fear.
Panic.
Terror.
Fear.
Panic.
Terror.
Even knowing that these were what fed them, what the terrors from beyond fed upon, there was no denying it. The survey team scrambled what weapons it could, the Masouki rising to their feet-
But they were not the target. Not this time, at least.
With a horrible noise, like the vomiting of a thousand story tall monster, the black portal disgorged its contents into the storm below.
Ruina. Hundreds - Thousands - of them. Charging into the breach. Pushing. Forcing aside the barricade. Not even that imposed by their "betters" would stand before them.
And above, looming over it all, directing the fray - was the Lord of Ruin himself. His expression wild, watching the devastation below as so many of their number were ripped apart - surging ahead, concentrating all of their will toward their ultimate prize.
Today, they would not be denied.