NationStates Jolt Archive

He had no idea what it was when he found it, to his eyes it had seemed to be simply a rather large, unflawed, rough crystal of some description, its blood red color was disconcerting, since he had never seen its like before, but he knew that any crystal the size of his fist, and without visible flaws would be extremely valuable, so he picked it up to take it back to the Holding, where he could sell it. It was only one days walk to reach Holding. It had been a week since he found the Gem… He no longer knew who he was, or where he came from, or even why he was where he was, all he knew was hat there was a voice driving him somewhere, a constant litany about its family, while scenes of incomparable horror ran through his mind…

Diablo, Lord of Terror had been loosed into the world again, after hundreds of millennia he was set free to ravage entire galaxies, not just a single world… And now there were those who would help him in his task, for Chaos thrived where Terror went… No single Zealot could possibly break the hold of this demon from his mind, and, for some horrifying reason, he no longer wanted to…

Ezekial wandered; aimless, driven by the visions that haunted his psychically attuned nightmares. He had seen worlds in flames; entire races burned clean by singular, implaccable will; and yet this...Power....Terrified him; he was spellbound by the scale of it. Yet other visions haunted him; terrible haunting visions. Mountain wracked worlds; a secret hidden in the heart, nestled like a putrescent cancer in the belly of the beast; of chained and bound powers older than mankind, and far more devious...

He moved onwards; seeking that which would make him whole; the horror that haunted his nightmares and drove his waking moments to obsession and insanity. He heard the faint whispers on the wind; heard the hiss in the air; the howl upon the eastern gale...

They would be free....Their chains would no longer bind...

Yet who spoke them? What was this? He could not know; could not fathom....The power of terror

Diablo called to everything, his terror reached across worlds, all would bow to his might in time, but for now he had the only servant he needed, one who would eventually willingly givehimself to Diablo's grasp...

He headed for the nearest port, the images that haunted were not to be found on this world, he knew that, and he knew where his search would lead him, trhough what he would find there was less certain...

Images flew through his mind, a fallen monastery, site of Diablos second fall, deep trackless jungle and a corrupted order, flying peaks and a guardian, a single stone, key to everything, and above it all, a burning visage, Terror personified...

He was weak, so weak, and release would not come, he was gaunt and ragged, and still the stone called to him, cajoling, begging, ordering, until finally he surrendered, and Diablo was fully set free, as the stone blazed upon his skull...

Jyzudelmar...home of the Silver Class mages.

There lived the mages that were the most sensitive to changes in the fabric of the universe, in the balance of powers and the constant struggles each side forced themselves through to try to tip that balance into its favor. Chaos and Order vied, as did Good and Evil.

T'puuli, the head of this class of mage, sat with her two children, watching younger mages train. Soon enough her own children would be sent to other cities, to learn the form of magick that they were best suited for. The only classes they couldn't join were the ones their parents headed...Time and Space. No...that would throw off the balance that they had to work so hard to maintain.

T'puuli reflected on this quietly, watching her daughter play with her son. At that moment, she felt it, as did several other Jyzu'm'elzaren. A great, roiling threat...distant, yet pertinent.

Resa, her Chosen, looked to her. "T'puuli --"

The Silver Class Master held up a hand for silence. "I will contact the Valsharess. Action must be taken, yes, Resa...but not by us."

So she went to the Valshanth.
__________________________________________________________________________
***Two days later***

Anulo, a young Gray-class mage, sat nervously next to the black-garbed mage that was piloting their small shuttle. He had declined to give a name, so Anulo called him the first thing that came to his mind...Isto.

"Very well, then," is all he had said. The dark mage's face was covered in a mask...all that was visible of him were his eyes and mouth.

Now the young healer dared again to speak. "Where are we going?"

The dark mage almost sighed. "Like the Valsharess said...there is a great danger loose in the galaxy. It threatens not only us, but many. So we will go and see if we cannot destroy or disable this force before it becomes too great. Settle in...there is little danger of this shuttle malfunctioning."

And they were on their way...

It had been weeks since the stone had cleaved his skull, or was it only hours? Time no longer held any meaning in his world, each minute was filled with a milleniums worth of fear, and every day was a torment, breaking his will ever more swiftly, horrors came to him and departed, Daemons appeared to him spouting words in tongues not meant for mortal ears, agony filled his every waking moment, and a great beast haunted his nightmares, this was no release, the Stone had lied to him... The only release was surrender, and surrender was death, his body might survive his surrender intact, but his mind would be shattered and wrecked, cooperation was his only hope of maintaining any semblence of sanity, but cooperation would only be a slower death, as his body twisted and flowed to the will of whatever Evil resided within the stone that he bore upon his brow...

-------

Far away from the tortured soul that bore the cursed stone three powers stirred, a Ghost, assasin for his masters, a Dark Templar, master of the powers granted by the depths of space and the cold darkness, and a Zealot, one of the Praetorian, who bridge the gap between Templar and Zealot ranks, master of the martial disciplines and the arts of the psionic mind. They had all recieved the same horrifying dreams, a great beast wakened from lomg slumber, and two other beasts that called to it with the voices of the Ages... Together they departed their world to seek out their enemy, and put him down...

Isto and Anulo set down on a foreign world, and then Isto sat down to wait. The gray class adept looked at the other mage. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, a simple, yet elegant motion. "We were told to wait here. Either the battle will come to us, or there are forces with which we can ally."

"What?"

"Calm yourself, Mith m'elzar. I believe it will be the latter."

The Gray Class pushed his hood back, revealing neat white hair and black skin, as well as violet eyes. "But --!"

"Trust me. Would they only send two mages of two classes if they did not seriously believe that there were not other forces that we could meet up with? Have you no faith in the Jyzum'elzarin? In T'puuli?"

Anulo was subdued by the absolute calm radiated by this black-clad figure.
"I have faith...but..."

"But it is your first time away from the safety of Mithdelmar...the first time that you, with no help, are responsible for the good health of yourself, me, and whomever else we might encounter to help us."

"...Yes..."

"Then have faith in yourself, mith m'elzar. Mith would not have sent you if he did not believe you to be capable."

"There are other forces gathering, we should go to them, join our powers to theirs, since we three together have little chance against Terror Destruction and Hatred set free."

"Indeed, let us seek them out, the darkness will light our path when all other light has failed..."

"The light is already failing, perhaps we should move quickly..."

The trio moved out, they knew the planet they sought, and they would arrive there soon, it was barely 4-5 hours of travel for a Gunship, and when they arrived, perhaps the Darkness would part to reveal a brighter light than any had thought possible...

Isto roused Anulo as the ship set down next to them.

"It would seem, ussta abbil, that we were not misguided."

They were both standing ready when the other three exited their ship.

"Hmm, Darkness indeed, Drow it would seem are our new allies..."

"No matter, we take what Tyrael gives us, and since he obviously told them we were coming, even if they don't know it, we take the help they can provide."

"I will go to greet them, you two may follow once I have introduced myself."

The Dark Templar descended the Gunships boarding ramp to greet the two that would complete their Pentacle

"It is good to meet you, I am Sho'gath, Dark Templar of the 3rd Order, and Guardian of the Pillars, my companions will be along shortly, once they finish checking the ships systems."

"Gre'as'anto lu' verve dro. My companion is Healer Anulo, and he calls me Isto. My purpose to the mission we are on depends on its nature at any given moment."

Dark Templar...interesting. I have heard of them.

"Gre'as'anto lu' verve dro. My companion is Healer Anulo, and he calls me Isto. My purpose to the mission we are on depends on its nature at any given moment."

Dark Templar...interesting. I have heard of them.

The other two trooped down the ramp after securing the ship, it was quite possible they would be here a while...

"These are my compatriots, Ilra'soth, Praetorian and Guardian of the Conclave, and Michael Kamen, Ghost operative of the Terrans, I am a general purpose fighter, if it moves, and is not faster or stronger than I am, I can kill it at close range, Kamen is our ranged fighter, Sniper, and scout, while Soth is our psionicist and secondary combatant. You are here to undo Terror, but you will also face Destruction and Hatred, can you face your darkest fears, the hatred of others, and the possibility that your life might end, and that you personally will cease to exist, body and soul? If so, we have work to do.

"Diablo seeks the Monastery where he first fell, there to raise an army, with that army he will venture deep into the Jungle and raise the youngest of his Brothers, Mephisto, afterwards the two will seek to free Baal from his desert tomb, we must stop them before the Three are all freed."

"Without your assistance we have little hope against the Daemon Commanders of Diablo's army, the Warlord of Blood, the Summoner, The Vile Betrayer, Anduriel, who is the Maiden of Anguish, and Izual, the Fallen Angel. There is little hopethat he will not raise his most loyal servants along with his brotherts to destroy us when we oppose him..."

Isto looked at the Gray Class Mage. Perhaps it had not been so wise to bring him...

"I personally do not fear death, hatred, or fear. I cannot speak for my companion...although he may well be the most important of us all."

Anulo shook his head. "I am not afraid...I can face these challenges."

Isto looked at the Gray Class Mage. Perhaps it had not been so wise to bring him...

"I personally do not fear death, hatred, or fear. I cannot speak for my companion...although he may well be the most important of us all."

Anulo shook his head. "I am not afraid...I can face these challenges."

"Then we had best move, Diablo will not wait for us to go, he will already be at the monastery most likely, or at least close by."

"Let's take the gunship, we may have need of its insertion capabilities soon..."

Soth turned to board the Gunship, then looked back, "I hope, for all of our sakes, that we are not too late reaching Tristram..."

Anulo turned to go back to their shuttle, but was stopped by his companion.

"Our need for that vessel has ceased for the time being. I will hide it here, and we will be able to return to it should we require it again."

He let a wispy spell encase the shuttle, and it seemed to disappear.

"We will travel with our new companions from now until this mission is complete."

With him saying that, they also boarded the gunship, with whatever supplies they'd come with.

Far away from the new companions, on a planet whose very name had bbeen almost forgotten to the mists of time, Diablo plumbed the depths of the world, seeking the site of his downfall, a soaring monastery, built by ancients and mainained poorly, the original building was gone, swallowed in time, but the skeleton remained, and that was enough... Goat Demons, Magma Demons, Overlords, Skeletons, Zombies, and the Warlord of Blood all rose from the ashes of a blackened and ruined monastery... While the nearby town burned...

------

The Gunship was nearly a full day out from the planet when Diablo freed his minions, but they would arrive in time to save most of the World, Diablo however, was already departed, leaving the Warlord to wreak his own personal brand of terror across an entire planet...

He is free again, The Warlord of Blood is loose, and Tristram is in ruins again... We must stop him before we continue our search, there may be quite a few of them, but they are generally weak, we can destroy them all rather easily.

"We will land near Tristram and begin the cleansing there, whoever encounters the Warlord first should not try to engage him in battle, but instead wait for assistance fromthe rest of us, if he attacks, try to immobilize him in some way, and run as swiftly as you may..."

Anulo looked at Isto. "Warlord?"

"Greater Demon. Fairly powerful...but if descriptions are correct, his hordes are nothing but target practice."

"..."

"Undead, mith m'elzar. You can kill them."

"Oh. What of the people?"

"There will be injured for you to tend."

Anulo looked at Isto. "Warlord?"

"Greater Demon. Fairly powerful...but if descriptions are correct, his hordes are nothing but target practice."

"..."

"Undead, mith m'elzar. You can kill them."

"Oh. What of the people?"

"There will be injured for you to tend."

"The Warlord of Blood, he was once a powerful servant of the light, but he summoned demons to fight each other, and fell under their sway, now he commands the weakest of hells legions and bathes in the blood of his victims to fuel his armors black powers."

"We are on the ground, to the East is the remains of te monastery, to the west lies Tristram, and north and south is trackless plains, likely filled with the Warlords minions, I intend to seek north, while Ilra'soth seeks south, I would like Anulo to see to any survivors while Michael heads east."

Isto stood. "And I will go with Anulo."

They two mages headed west.

The other three companions split up, heading in their various directions, to the north Sho'Gath almost immediately ran into a pack of Goat Demons wielding enruned polearms, but they were cold meet for his blades, they never even got a hit on him...

To the south Ilra'soth was luckier, just a horde of undead, easily fried with a few psionic storms, though the dark bolts that were sent his way badly depleted his shield...

Kamen had the worst luck of the three, he ran into a pack of Magma Demons, that proceeded to chase him around in a circle, all the while lobbing blobs of liquid fire at him, before he hadthe presence of mind to cloak, hiding himself from sight, and letting him pick them off with his Canister Rifle one by one...

To the East, there was nothing, the town seemed abandoned, and undead prowled the streets, screams and cries for mercy could be heard in the distance, but they always cut off with a disturbing finality before much time had elapsed... Tristram was a ghost town once again, and the Warlord lurked within its shattered walls...

Anulo took in the sights and sounds in horror, but then rage began to burn in his eyes.

His hands came up to cast a spell...this was a lethal combination...a spell to immobilize the undead, and to destroy whatever minor demons there were...a neurotoxin to them, but it wouldn't have any effect on humaniods.

He cast it, sent it through town.

"Let's go...I want to find survivors."

Isto nodded, and they went off.

Goat Demons collapsed in heaps of ragged flesh, Magma Demons fell to the ground and bubbled spitefully, as though they resented their destruction, Overlords flesh sloughed from their bones as the horrible racks of bone that held them together fell to pieces, and undead crumbled to destruction... Apparently the little Healer was more dangerous than appearances might suggest, but no matter, there could be no hope for survival against Bartuk the Bloody, The Warlord of Blood...

Ilra'soth was already headed back towardsTristram, taking an aproach that would bring him there fastest, and Sho'gath headed back in that direction almost as quickly as his companion, unfortunately for Kamen however, there was a problem, he had stumbled onto a pack of Overlords, directing Fallen Ones in their depredations, with the help of a Fallen Shaman, unfortunately those activities mostly involved the surviving females from Tristram, and that could not be allowed to continue...

He opened fire, cutting down a pair of Overlords with the first shot, but then they were on him, shell after shell cracked out, cutting down fallen in pairs, trios, and by the handful, but they kept coming, a bolt of fire struck himin the side and he faltered, but he kept shooting, finally tagging the shaman with a direct shot, blowing out the creatures insides in a welter of gore, and sending the rest of the creatures scurrying in fear, for a moment, then they returned, and there were still dozens of them, now he was lobbing grenades as well as blowing off limbs and various body parts, the survivors were being peppered with shrapnel, but it was relatively light once it had hit 3-4 fallen, but 3 of the survivors were killed by flying shards of metal that had not been slowed or stopped by intercepting Fallen bodies. Finally, after almost five minutes of continuous combat the Fallen were all dead, and the women and, apparently all of the children, were safe, though how they would make it back to Tristram was another question entirely...

Isto sensed this presence, and had a spell in his hands. He had once walked the very plains of Hell...this spell burned brightly...but the part he held in his hands was only the first part. As soon as this foe made himself known, he would face Isto's wrath...but for now, Anulo looked for survivors.

They found their first survivor approximately five minutes after Anulo's attack, a man, his upper thigh was chewed to the bone, and he seemed to be unconcious, while the Zombie that had done the chewing was draped over his limp form. They were in the town square, and there were at least six more survivors scattered about the area, though four were unconcious, and the other two were keeping quiet lestthe draw more undead. They had no way of knowing that Tristram was all but cleansed of the Blight...

Anulo motioned to the survivors. "Come on...and bring your wounded. I can help you."

He moved the zombie corpse off of the man and with a small spell that seemed to glow gently, started healing his leg. Muscle regrew, and blood vessles regenerated. Any that had medical training could see the granulation as capillaries reformed. Finally, skin recovered the area, and Anulo set a spell on him to let him regenerate his blood supply faster.

"Come on, bring the next most grieviously wounded."

Isto had stood silently on guard the entire time.

The two survivors seemed comforted by his voice, and his obvious willingness to help them, they began dragging the other four, those that were unconcious, over towards Anulo, but the first didn't even make it half way before he was pierced by an ebon shaft, seemingly pure darkness, it sliced through viscera, bone, muscle and skin with equal ease, and the Warlord stood revealed.

He wasn't extremely tall, but other than that he was an impressive sight, armor that had once been black now gleamed a dull crimson over the rust red of dried blood, testament to those who had died by his hand, hissword was blacker than the darkest night, seeming to absorb light, and darken the world simply through its existence, his gauntlets were dripping, and the spikes on his hands and arms were soaked a horrible shade of red, gleaming sullenly in the daylight. The only part of him not covered by his armor was his face, not a truly terrifying face in and of itself, but the hunger and hatred etched indelibly into it made it more frightening still. That, however, was just about his only weakness, his arrogance in leaving his face uncovered had been his downfall, allowing his brother Horazon to remove his head in battle, and, once head and body were seperated, he could not regenerate whatever part of him it was that he had lost, specifically that most important part of all, his throat...

"Anulo, get them out of here. I will deal with him."

Anulo looked at Isto. "Now, Anulo."

He motioned to the others as magick started swirling in deadly patterns around Isto.

Isto cast a powerful spell, into which another spell was woven.

The first, if it hit, would utterly destroy most demons and undead. If it didn't destroy him, the other spell would tell Isto what sort of daemonia he was facing...and thus, how to get rid of it.

"Anulo, get them out of here. I will deal with him."

Anulo looked at Isto. "Now, Anulo."

He motioned to the others as magick started swirling in deadly patterns around Isto.

Isto cast a powerful spell, into which another spell was woven.

The first, if it hit, would utterly destroy most demons and undead. If it didn't destroy him, the other spell would tell Isto what sort of daemonia he was facing...and thus, how to get rid of it.

There would be no easy victories here, the spell struck the armor, began to take effect... and fizzled, Bartuk was the last of the Horadrim Warrior-Mages, and there was very little that could break though his armor, ensorcelled through the deaths of a thousand weaker mages, his armor had so many wards on it that when he was first killed they could not even burn the corpse within the armor, because it still protected him, even after death...

Bartuk advanced, his sword glowing darkly(ooc: how something glows darkly is beyond me, but it sounds cool, so I'm using it...) and bolt of darkness, identical to the one that had transfixed the civilian leapt out towards Iston, unless the mage was versed in Blood Magick there would be almost no way to stop it, other than an extremely powerful spell of light.

Sho'gath and Ilra'soth hgad entered the town by now, and could hear the moans of the horribly injured man, he was not yet dead, though the attack had effectively gutted him, but that didn't matter, all that mattered was that The Warlord was obviously involved...

He is here, and we let the healer and the mage venture here alone, that ws rather foolish of us, the two least physically able members of the party, and the two we can least stand to lose, and we left them unsupervied...

Indeed my friend, I believe wqe may have underestimated the mage though, he does not sound as though he was dead yet, andthe same for the healer, I think it will simply require one of us to decapitate him, while the mage and the healer break his wards and exorcise him.

Isto did know blood magick...but that wasn't the point, really.

He was more worried about the blade, and conjured two of his own...shorter, but just as heavily enchanted. His first one came to parry his opponent's blow, while the second slashed at his neck.

Anulo stepped forward, and focused on the dark bolt. He knew the properties of both blood and magick...his class had to. To combine the two in theory was very easy...every living thing had tupora fashka...and the things with the most powerful tupora fashka let it be carried in their blood.

The spell he shot at it was a combination of a spell to diffuse fashka...but also one that was used to separate blood into its component parts.

"You really think you can beat me, little Drow? I am old, older than even the eldest of your race, I was old when your people first began using stone tools, and I will be still older when your race dies..."

Bartuk's spell slammed rather spectacularly into the coumter Anulo had put up, splashing outwards like a spray of ink that has just hit a glass wall.

The blow ws blocked by a swiftly interposed forearm, he would not be killed so easily as the Drow obviously hoped, and his blade leapt back to slice again at Isto's body...

Well, it seems the Drow needed our help less than I would have suspected, but I think it is time to add our weight to the fray. Isto suddenly seemed to multiply, where omnce there had been only one, there were now four, all intent on engaging Bartuk, and parroting the attacks of the original.

Indeed, we shall destroy him as he so truly deserves... Sho'gath disappeared from sight, cloaked in the darkness that was his to command. All that would give away his existence was the ripple of his passing, and the strikes he left behind...

Mild annoyance flitted through Isto...he hated the smoke and mirrors "multiplication." But he'd work with it.

He danced lithely back from the blow, before darting back in to attack.

Anulo, seeing reinforcements arrive, went to help the man who had been disemboweled.

I hate working in field conditions...

He gently arranged the man's organs as they should be, healing them as they went back into place, and allowing flesh to regrow and blood to regenerate. He then carried the man away, and started working on the others.

There was a bit more than "smoke and mirrors" to a Templars Hallucination, the images created had corporeal form, not just an image that disappeared when struck, and, while they were infinitely weaker than their projenitor, they could at least inflict some harm.

The Warlord was becoming aggravated, his targets were fast, but hoefully they'd make a mistake eventua- He never saw the blow coming, distracted as he was by the attack from Isto, one of the Hallucinations cut deeply into his face, unfortunately, it wasn't enough, a backhand destroyed the figment before it could do more than superficial damage, but that backhand left him wide open, and Isto's attack struck home, scraping along the helmet before cutting deeply into Bartuks throat, not a fatal blow, but damaging nonetheless.

It seems the Warlord and our allies are more dangerous than appearances would lead us to believe... He cut off his thoughts with a shake, and entered the fray himself, Bartuk was distracted, and his back was turned, making this an opportune time to strike, but his hits came crashing down on armor and empty air, his left missed entirely, while his right hit the back of Bartuks plate at a poor angle, preventing him from even sliding his blade up under the helmet to make the kill.

Overly hasty my friend, watch and wait, pick your time to strike... Sho'gath held back, waiting for the opening he knew had to come, then he would move, and show everyone, once again, why staelth beat brawling nine times in ten.

Anulo kept a watch on the battle...but his greatest concern were the injured. He got them into one place and then began to treat them...it was easiest that way.

Isto, while attacking with his blades, had been moving his lips in part of the focus for yet another highly destructive spell, which he released at his attacker the second it was ready...and as soon as he was sure that none of his current allies were in the way.

Anulo kept a watch on the battle...but his greatest concern were the injured. He got them into one place and then began to treat them...it was easiest that way.

Isto, while attacking with his blades, had been moving his lips in part of the focus for yet another highly destructive spell, which he released at his attacker the second it was ready...and as soon as he was sure that none of his current allies were in the way.


Sho'gath was still hanging back, waiting fo Isto to make whatever move he intended to make, while Ilra'soth seemed to have the Warlords full attention, meaning that he was wide open to whatever Isto was going to do...

The Warlord was not happy, his enemies had backup, and now he was stuck between two opponents, this could get messy, but, if he killed, or even crippled the one, the Drow would be cold meat...

In the depths of space, a silent evil approached, something no one had ever witnessed before, created by some distant civilisation that now no longer exists, probably destroyed by their own creations, in deep space this craft approached, a gigantic craft, slowly moving towards the tiny planet that people went about their business, waring over territory, fighting for possetions miniscule in comparrison to the sheer size of this vessel...

The Krakken... this ship was simply known as, it was not the name of the vessel nor was it the name of its captain, it was simply known as the Krakken...

An ancient evil, approaching this planet silently contemplating its destruction, preparing its forces for the comming conflict...

The Craft powered by some unearthly force, something unknown, something uncaring, cold and emoitonless, a source of pure evil? or a source of good? like all things in the universe, its purpose and intention was unknown until it finally choose to reveal itself...

time passed by, relentlessly, even as the hours ticked by, the craft approached closer and closer...

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v399/HorusGodEmperor/KrakkenGalacticSystemHarvester.gif

Sho'gath was still hanging back, waiting fo Isto to make whatever move he intended to make, while Ilra'soth seemed to have the Warlords full attention, meaning that he was wide open to whatever Isto was going to do...

The Warlord was not happy, his enemies had backup, and now he was stuck between two opponents, this could get messy, but, if he killed, or even crippled the one, the Drow would be cold meat...
The spell centered itself on the monster's throat...best level for the mage casting.

It was a spell that in all forms was designed to rip matter asunder, molecule from molecule, atom from atom. Designed to travel through the blood of its target, so long as it had blood contact when it touched the target.

The spell centered itself on the monster's throat...best level for the mage casting.

It was a spell that in all forms was designed to rip matter asunder, molecule from molecule, atom from atom. Designed to travel through the blood of its target, so long as it had blood contact when it touched the target.

Flesh parted, skin and muscle liquified under the assault of Isto's spell, and the armor collapsed, the evil within still lived, but that was what exorcisms were for...

Well, that was disgusting... Effective, but disgusting... Ilra relaxed his guard, the Warlord was effectively done for, he could afford to stop and breathe now...

Sho'gath appeared from nothingness where he had been standing, right next to Anulo...

Anulo was seeing to the health of the survivors. The appearance of the Dark Templar next to him didn't phase him in the slightest. After all...they were working together.

The evil didn't concern Isto too much. If left to its own devices, it would either seek out another host, in which case he'd have to just destroy it, or it would dissipate on its own.

Inside this unearthly craft, a slimy gland spasmed, quivered before mucus slowly dripped down from opening as a vast egg sack dropped onto the soft mucus covered floor.

The sack moved and writhed with unearthly life as what ever was inside struggled to break free, struggled to break into the material world, struggled to breath, to break into life...

Suddenly a large talon sliced through the sack, splitting it and allowing the creature inside to break into the world, its golden yellow eyes opening for the first time surveying all around it, it slowly rose to its taloned feet as the creature took its first steps...

Its head was elongated, with two Ivory horns that rose up into curves, its maw was filled with long fangs, that dripped and slavered with mucus, it took its first breath its obsidian black chest expanding and contracting as it used its unearthly lungs for the first time, its multiple limbs unfolded as its claws and talons flexed and moved, as though it was testing out its new form...

it was a Dreadmire, the first of many... it was a Deamonstalker, designed as a primary scout unit, it would go ahead of the main force and spread fear and panic, sum up enemy forces and prepare to spring surprise attacks on enemy convoys and colums, it was an expert stalker and had expert camoflauge able to blend into the background by changing the colour of its skin to match its surroundings....

Anulo was seeing to the health of the survivors. The appearance of the Dark Templar next to him didn't phase him in the slightest. After all...they were working together.

The evil didn't concern Isto too much. If left to its own devices, it would either seek out another host, in which case he'd have to just destroy it, or it would dissipate on its own.

Isto, can you or Anulo exorcise that armor? The evil within is already seeking a new master... That would be unpleasant to say the least...

Michael had finally managed to get the remaining women and children back to town, now their injuries needed healing, there were nearly 20 of them, andd they were all wounded to some greater or lesser degree.

There is something up above us, something evil, and something old, not truly connected to The Three in any way, but still there, and still evil...

The Craft hung low in orbit, its biological mass slowly rotating around the planet as each day cycle continued unaware of the evil above...

Slowly the dreadmire slid into a sack, it was a mucus membrane, and as the creature slowly slipped into the protective cacoon that was the Spore, the cytin protective layer quickly grew covering the spore in a layer that would survive the immense temperatures of Entry and the impact later on....

The Dreadmire was curled up in the fetal position as fluid protected it from harm...

The Gland spasmed, begining to shake, then with one violent expulsions the Biological Craft spat the Spore into the atmosphere...

The Spore hurtled towards the planet below... leaving a trail of fire like a comet...

Isto, can you or Anulo exorcise that armor? The evil within is already seeking a new master... That would be unpleasant to say the least...

Michael had finally managed to get the remaining women and children back to town, now their injuries needed healing, there were nearly 20 of them, andd they were all wounded to some greater or lesser degree.

There is something up above us, something evil, and something old, not truly connected to The Three in any way, but still there, and still evil...
Anulo frowned. "Excorsism isn't really in my line of work..."

Isto was already casting. Exorcism, banishment of an unwanted sentient ethereal force...same difference.

It would be gone soon.

The Armor crumpled, folded, and shrieked with the loss of its inhabitant, what remained when the spell was complete was simply a pile of glowing metal, semi-molten from the release of power that had occurred just moments ago, but already giving off the distinctive pings of cooling metal.

Thank you for that, the presence of the Warlord in my mind was most unpleasant...

Hmm, there is definitely something out there my friend, for example, that track of fire in the sky is decidedly unnatural...

"What do you trhink it is guys?"

Well, ata guess, I'd say Harvewsters, a race we have not seen in many millenia, so many that they are nearly mythical, but that is the only real possibility, it does not feel Tyranid, and it is certainly not Xenomorphs or Zerg, so it must be the only Biological race left, the Harvesters... We can take them, depending on how many there are though, we may need backup. Michael Kamen, please call Colonel O'Niel if you will, and try and get into contact with Jim Raynor while you're at it, he has command of Task Group Pestilence at the moment...

The Spore continued along its arc, tracing the tragectory of the planet until suddenly there was an immense roar as the spore impacted into the crust it traveled 3 quaters of a mile, tearing up the earth and gouging out a massive trench...

The Spore continued along its path until comming to a halt...

The Cyitin armour began to disintegrate, burnt away from the entry as thick purple ichor began to seep from the cracks as the spore slowly opened..

Inside the dreadmire began to move, it rose itself up, using its large talons to tear itself out from spore..

It rose itself to its full height, its lipless mouth quivered and slavered as snake like tentacles, writhed as the clumsy body heaved and pulsated..

The Dreadmire was now out of the spore, it lay apart.. cut open thick ichor lying all over...

The Dreadmire lept from the spore, running with frightening speed, its black obsidian skin changing its colour to match the surroundings..

With one massive bound the Dreadmire lept into the trees, awaiting for prey to come and visit its Crash site....


It had begun...

The Armor crumpled, folded, and shrieked with the loss of its inhabitant, what remained when the spell was complete was simply a pile of glowing metal, semi-molten from the release of power that had occurred just moments ago, but already giving off the distinctive pings of cooling metal.

Thank you for that, the presence of the Warlord in my mind was most unpleasant...

Hmm, there is definitely something out there my friend, for example, that track of fire in the sky is decidedly unnatural...

"What do you trhink it is guys?"

Well, ata guess, I'd say Harvewsters, a race we have not seen in many millenia, so many that they are nearly mythical, but that is the only real possibility, it does not feel Tyranid, and it is certainly not Xenomorphs or Zerg, so it must be the only Biological race left, the Harvesters... We can take them, depending on how many there are though, we may need backup. Michael Kamen, please call Colonel O'Niel if you will, and try and get into contact with Jim Raynor while you're at it, he has command of Task Group Pestilence at the moment...
"How much of a threat are these things?" Isto's voice, flat and sharp like a knife blade, cut into the group's conversation.

"How much of a threat are these things?" Isto's voice, flat and sharp like a knife blade, cut into the group's conversation.

OOC: Sorry for the delay, computer problems...

IC:

"Well, if they're biologicals, I'd guess that individually they're relatively weak, its generally when the other 300-odd beasts swarm you that it gets bad, but, that's just the beginning, if these are what I think they are, then we have a referent too... Back a few hundred years one of the Umojan Protectorates worlds was effctively destroyed, the single surviving Battlecruier, the direct precursor to General Dukes NORAD III by the way, was named NORAD, it was a bleeding hulk when it reached Tarsonis, but the point is, contained in its logs records of a hostile biological race, unlike anything we'd encountered before, moderately powerful, fast, and with greater numbers than we had, we blockaded the system with the very first Metal Militia prototype, and sent in the fleets, by the time we arrived, the world was shattered, and they were gone. If those are the same enemies we faced before, then the five of us alone likely do not have the firepower to stop the incursion, not and stop Diablo at the same time..."

OOC2: Might I suggest that once our people depart the planet that we move this incursion to another thread and duke it out Kraven? You can come too if you want Kay...

"Then the answer is simple. We go after the primary objective and leave the creatures be until after the goal has been attained. Then, if this new threat is still a threat, we attack them."

Anulo shook his head. "No...we can't leave these survivors to a worse threat. If the planet were evacuated, sure. But not as is. If I can see this thing, I might be able to design something to keep it out...away."

"Then the answer is simple. We go after the primary objective and leave the creatures be until after the goal has been attained. Then, if this new threat is still a threat, we attack them."

Anulo shook his head. "No...we can't leave these survivors to a worse threat. If the planet were evacuated, sure. But not as is. If I can see this thing, I might be able to design something to keep it out...away."

"Well, I think it landed well over that way," He points to the west, towards a forest...

Well then, lets be about it my friends.

Indeed, I think that eliminating this threat takes temporary precedence over our major quest.

As they left the village, Isto set a barrier around the district the survivors were in...temporary protection from whatever this may be.

Anulo kept an eye on the local plant life...trying to discern just how long the planet had been in demonic hands.

The Demons in the area of the town were routed, they would not be attacking Tristrams survivors any time soon...

The plants had not changed much, the planet had only been in Demonic hands for a day, maybe two, before they had arrived to cleanse the place. A few of the trees seemed to move, but it was mostly illusion, and those that were truly moving posed no threat to the party as they sought out their quarry.