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  • Event Lead

THE FORTHBRINGER

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A famous illustration retelling the battle of the Light’s Church. Crippled Empyric Veteran Cornellius II informing of the slaughter of his companions in battle.XLJsBcK.png

[!] Within the Elemental Plane, there lies that of an empty cathedral drenched in the blasting lights of Qhethys’ shine. The church is considered one of the holy sacraments with which the Elemental Pristine Womaness shares to the few materialistic Genasai who worship her. However, on this fine day the place of worship and purity is filled to the brim with that of Empyreans, Brightscales, and Truthcrafters of great revere. Alongside them, Champions of both Flame and Light standing tall and patrolling the grounds as the air within seems unreasonably tense. Of intensive note however, there remains 3 members of notice. Scoria, the first Lightspawn and Priestess of all things Pure to the Elements, Pheon, Celestial Messenger and Hand of Dreidam, and finally Tykrarius, Truthcrafter and Royal General Legionnaire of the protective front aligned in the Elements.

 

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The Church of Gleam: Found in the Elemental Circle of Light
 

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Picturized left to right: Scoria, Tykrarius, Pheon
 

“They would attempt something of such a caliber?” questions the Priestess, her shining grace placing her eyes upon the two foreigners of her home. 

 

Pheon looms up from her cradle of wings, speaking whilst the golden shine of her halo just above her alights with less significance compared to her friend in dialog, “Right now at this very moment, hordes of Greater Daemonic Beings, alongside the most Archaic and Almighty Extinguishers1 are onwards in an attempt to gain you, or one of your kin Genasi. It is heavily recommended that you come with us under the custody of the Celestial Order as to keep your proto-light protected.” During her speech, Tykrarius nods in solemn agreement, busting out loud orders to the nearby Drakoyrs and Demi-Celestials who have come alongside his stead. 

 

“Miss we’ve no time. You must make your choice at this moment. In less than 10 minutes the doors to this chapel will burst in and a FLOOD of destructive kind will not stop until they’ve broken this ground into nothing more but a simple pool of muck.”

 

The words of Tykarius were harsh, and yet the priestess Scoria shook her head. “It does not matter if I would go with you or not Celestials. This sacred ground holds my soul within… I can not depart from such. It is more than certainly why they’ve chosen me as a target for this attempted ‘ascension’ against that of your people.

 

The Truthseeker2 grits his teeth, stewing in his own uselessness before letting out a curse in a Celestial tongue. “In that case there is but no option available to us than the path to fight. - Pheon, send word to the Grande Princes and make them aware that we stand firm here today.” The Truthseeker’s words have a strange sense of absolution to them, yet in what would be considered an adversary whom transcends his morality it is a terrifying statement of suicide to keep himself planted. Pheon nods, writing a sequence of words down upon one of her feathers before it’d spiral off and out of the Chapel to find its way to the nearest webway.

 

Moments later a proclamation is made from the Truthseeker. A speech out to the Champions of this native plane and his own Brothers in Arms. “TODAY, this marks the DAY in which we shall NOT allow any of the daemonic ilk PAST. If The Forthbringer ascertains this Lightkin’s3 person, he will be but a mere SPECK away from achieving his goals to take advantage of the Rapture upon Prime Materia’s webways to ignite a devastating attack on the Conclave. Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES shall we allow that to happen.”

 

“With the gods beside us, we WILL win.”

 

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[!] The Truthseeker’s proclamation inspired a awe filled virtue amongst those gathered, however in the hearts of all they were quite aware of what was soon to come upon them. The Cathedral was barricaded the moment after. Nigh every single Angeulic Boon offered by the Conclave was set up upon that of this shining church to make the horde somewhat manageable. The church itself spanned for roughly 500ft from the entrance to that of the back podium where Miss Scoria was told to keep behind.

 

For every 50 feet, a different line of Demi-Celestials and Genasi were combined and affiliated to their specific rows in an optimal formation. With spells at the ready, Tykrarius stood about 100 feet from the entrance in preparation. Pheon herself laid in the far back with Miss Scoria, the two beings not known for their heavy-handed front range combat. 

 

Minutes turned into seconds, before smashing against the front entrance was a series of loud slams. The wards amongst the church’s anterior stood strong whilst the beginnings of a heightened sense of chill permeated throughout the slivers and cracks in the door. The suspense of this frontal barrage managed to reverb throughout the narrow hall… before the lingering traces of the Greater Extinguishers could be seen just outside.

 

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Just The Greater’s presence alone was enough to have turned the neighboring portion of the Elemental Plane into a blizzard fit to bury the corpses of the Celestial beneath such. The expanded grace of Vilias’ waters4 made a sneering dislike across that of the many Flame Genasi who were gathered there at the land for battle. The creatures pounded and pounded to be finally let in… up until a blasting THUD would send the barriers protecting the occupants within right off the hinges. Immediately a horde swarmed in, mostly to be purified nigh-instantly by that of the Empyreans that had prepared a plethora of spells beforehand. This continued for the next 30 minutes, in which tens upon dozens of Extinguishers were blasted into bits, the strongest Greaters not even making 50 feet within before getting impaled via the multiple of ranged projectiles that the Demi-Celestials had.

 

“Good thing we waited for the slaughtered kin to walk in before us.” replied a dried sarcastic tone from that of the front arch. The chill amongst the church growing just from the dialog stated openly amongst the battlefield, as alongside such did the hearts of most within sink.

 

“As the Forthbringer predicted, the Empyreans would use up all their ammunition in the first round of combatants.” a grizzly voice echoes alongside. These separate dialogs would quickly cause the Truthseeking General amongst the ranks to quickly yell outwards, “EMBRACE MEN!..” though, such a call out was nothing but quickly proceeded by the entire front of the church blasting apart. The freezing chill of outside hit the skin of every within, as standed besides the door were both an Archaic and Almighty Daemon

 

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Dagon the Archaic, The Once Mortal, The Frostbitten Tyrant (left) and Mor'ran The Almighty, The Unbreaking Ice, Frozen Army Firstborn (right)

 

[!] Moments after the arrival of Tyranos’ elite scourge, the Truthseeking captain called out to those present. A cry to keep ready and quickly bare themselves once more. This however, quickly fell upon deaf ears.

 

Dagon the Archaic and Mor’ran the Almighty were known amongst the Celestial army for being two of the reported elite daemons amongst the Frost Steppe. Whilst not entirely impossible to defeat, with an underwhelmed and under-rallied roaster 5 those odds were quickly downtrodden. Still holding out hope however, the Empyreans quickly blasted almost every single magical truth they had into that of Mor’ran’s center mass. The Almighty stands true to its name, a frozen beast of defense as it takes the brunt of nigh 500 different attacks ranging from flames to Empyric arrows, meanwhile still able to send blasts of frost across the rows to rip apart the stamina of the opposition gathered. Creating openings for the few Greaters whom remained, as well as Dagon. 

 

Mor’ran stands as a girthing 20-meter tall being of absolute mass and defense, however Dagon is the size of a typical Gaian male with that of an unhinged sonic speed. Pulling forth a blade fromst behind his back able to sap the heat from the blood of any sliced across, Dagon was able to avoid all attacks flung his way and eviscerate the front line within less than 60 seconds of him being upon the field.

 

Hope which lingered on the battlefield about 10minutes prior at the slaughter of multiple greaters quickly vanished, as some Empyreans quickly thought of the idea of dying in that moment with nothing to show for their existence but the failure which had been presented in the name of their Lord. However, Tykranius was able to keep up with the Archaics movements. Chains spilled from golden portals amongst the floor and walls to envelope the fast-flying Dagon, before a flick of Tyk’s wrist send the golden bounds soaring across the air as to smash Dagon into the floors just affront that of the entrance.

 

A slight delay across the chaos emerges as Dagon quickly breaks himself free of his bounds just in front of the trodden feet of his fire suppressing colleague, facing off against the opponent whom dared to come after him with such a distasteful attack. Amongst the fights, a dialog would commence.

 

“What is your name, Empyrean?” questions Dagon, a sneering grin amongst his face whilst the battle takes place about him.

 

Tyk smashed his hands together, beginning to pull more against the mana within himself as Tear6 quickly spread across his body. “I do not speak with that of the corrupt ilk.” He nigh hissed, quickly shooting forth a volley of what seemed to be dozens of golden bolts which all homed in on Dagon’s position.

 

With an idle flick of his wrist, the Daemon was able to smash apart and intercept all projectiles sent his way with heightened reflexes and speed. It spat out a chuckle, before zooming throughout the center of the rugged gallery as to meet its sword among Tyk’s. The Celestial’s body entirely buckled, as alongside his strong-will, sweat amongst his brow would freeze to his skin from being forced face-to-face with this beast. “Cmon now Lightblood, get angry for me. It makes this so much more fun.” screeches the once humane creature. A ray of sharpened teeth presenting itself as to show a transfigured abomination of insane giddiness to such, before Dagon sweeps his hand left as to swing Tyk’s sword away from his body. The movement that follows would swing quick, in which the Archaic goes and smashes the blunt of its sword straight across Tyk’s gut. The armored Seeker sprays a chunk of light blood from its mawl as its sent soaring across the galley only to lay restless among the floor.

 

“How disappointing, you won't be impressive for the Prince’s collection…” Dagon says, a smile fading at the weakened General. By this point only merely 2 minutes had passed since entrance of Tyranos' Elite and the Celestial forces had dropped by 30% and moral tanked. The Archaic pulled up its sword, ready to hammer the nail into the coffin of defeat the church had shown here today… before a low rumbling conjecture rung from Tyk’s lips. 

“You misunderstand the Light’s resolve.” would nearly growl from the Soldier, swinging forth its hand which had recently grown nigh rabid with Tear all throughout his arm. “I just needed you to stand still there…” and on beat, the General slams his hand down upon the floor infront of him. Moments later, the golden hues spring across the floor and send forth a volley of chains from every single angle of the church. 

 

The Archaic’s eyes widen, twisting about to watch as the Priestess and Pheon had been gathering forth energy. The Messenger spiraling a multitude of her feathers along that of Scoria’s light as to create a gigantic beam, aimed straight down the central hall of the galley. “You said us Empyreans like to waste our big guns, though we were waiting this whole time for you cretinous scat. Be PURGED unto light.”

 

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[!] The blast rang out for miles, its radius completely enveloping the daemon whom had been pinned as Dagon flailed about his arms in defense. The beam went shooting him straight off his feet and broke apart his binds in an instance as it kept its trajectory right onto that of Mor’ran. The slow Almighty couldn’t move, taking the blow straight in the chest as finally the Extinguisher had been hit with an attack that hurt. A small embedded sear burst through the Daemon’s chest, causing it to slowly stagger back out of the Church and unto that of its rump just outside. Dagon meanwhile finally flung from the course of the beam as he landed roughly 10 meters outside. The Archaic left unconscious with its arms almost entirely melted straight off, and the Almightly floored upon its rump as it was forced to find time to recover.

 

This grand feeling of overcoming had left the remaining forces amongst the church with a savage level of excellence for their superiors, and quickly began to fend off that of the remaining Greaters that were brought on. At the current rate that the battle was headed the Cold Front would be forced into a retreat. Though, fate is not as forgiving in actuality.

 

“The people who cling to their fantasies shall be buried below their failings.”

 

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[!] 10-20 minutes now have passed in the battle as the Hordes of Extinguishers continue to fight through and fall before their counterparts. Whilst not having the same stockpiled power, the anti-daemonic force is able to hold strong quite well given the momentary dispatch of both Dagon and Mor’ran. Tykrarius, weakened after his encounter with Dagon, would fall back to the back lines alongside the Priestess and Pheon as to get an update.

 

“If we keep up this steady rate, we should be able to dispatch and fend off the scourges until the Conclave’s armada can send in enough reinforcements to bounce back the Almighty. Mor’ran is felled for now, however it may only be about another 5 or so minutes up until he’s back on his feet. If the Archaic isn’t dead… 30-40 for him. I believe that with our combined efforts we could hold back Mor’ran for about… 10-20 minutes whilst keeping 20-30% of our manpower. If the others can make it to us within that time then I truly believe…-” Tyk cuts himself off, noticing a strange downtrodden and under influenced Pheon nearby reading through some of her messenger feathers. Piping up, she decides to speak-

“They aren’t coming.” the winged womaness exclaims.

 

Both the Priestess and Commander squint their brows, “What do you MEAN they are not coming?” the chaos behind him attempts to obscure his dialog, causing his entranced stare upon Pheon only to grow in disappointment and disbelief.

 

“I mean that they aren’t coming. The Empyrean Grand Commander has instituted that this battle is at a loss from the scouts which are reporting amongst the flanks.”

 

“So we are just supposed to DIE?! Allow these goons to capture the Priestess…?!” Tyk’s words only grow in frustration, a seething hiss in his own disbelief. Turning to face his men fighting tooth and nail to not break the lines. The Priestess pipes up herself- “This is the Might of the Empyrean Strategist? Sac off men in a suicide mission and let us ALL fall to the slaughter?”

“It was unintentional you see. We all picked the wrong straw. New information has come through in whic-”

 

[!] Pheon does not have the moment to finish her thought, as a roaring CLASH of debris would ripple across the church. Candles, seats, furniture all torn to the wayside as the very front underwent such a sudden chilling boom that it felt as though a meteor had gone and smashed right through the front archway. The entire ceiling of the church broken apart leaving nothing but supports and the interior to get pelted by both snows and hailstorms. Standing tall at the center would be a roughly 15 foot tall beast of frozen spikes and rocky plate armor. Its mannerisms slithered almost snake like, and the gusts of the frozen winds bounced around its very gestures.

 

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Agillen the Frost's Hand, The Blizzard of Tyranos, The Frozen Army's General

 

[!] In merely its arrival alone, dozens of the Genasi were extinguished of life, and multiple other Empyreans were rendered unconscious and immobilized. Making matters worse, just behind the being stood Mor’ran and Dagon, revitalized if not sluggish from their wounds. Moments later, Agillen would speak.

 

“If the Commander of this unit would wish to fight themselves and fall here today… via Tyranos’ unending grace, The Forthbringer shall allow the rest in here to leave as Foresaken. The only thing the Cold Front needs is the Priestess. Otherwise, all here shall perish today.”

 

As if to only bring about more stress upon Tykrarius, he looked in front of him only to see an abominable death-sentence. Very clear in his absolute inability to defeat The Second-Hand Demon just before him, he took a deep breath. “Pheon, it has been an honor to fight by your side. Hide the Priestess whilst you can.” he informs, slowly fumbling down the halls as he raises his voice. “Scourge of Frost, I, Tykrarius the Absolute, Commander of the Elemental Front and Truthseeker Magi, pronounce that you shall be dispatched. Whether it be by myself, my men, or my brothers… you will no-”

 

Tykrarius was unable to finish. In the blink of an eye the Second-Hand was standing right before Tyk. The demon’s claw had been flung straight through the Empyrean’s Solar Plexus… leaving a soaking pool of Celestial blood to drench down the Daemon’s forearm. The Commander’s oxygen froze from air to ice straight in his lungs, as the corrupt freeze would slowly twist the pale skin of the man into a desaturated grey. With a flick of Agillen’s wrist, the Commander is ragdolled across the room and into a nearby wall support. Propped up to choke on his words as he’s left unable to breath or speak… yet freakishly left alive.

 

Pheon let out a terrible shriek, gasping as suddenly her friend and Commander had just been taken out. Quickly, the Messenger began to channel forth calls in her Celestial tongue to her Patron Lord above. Meanwhile Scoria sent forth a beam of solidified light, burning and brightened upon that of Agillen’s facade. The Hand, without even looking found himself able to bring up his clawed arm and grab the attack before it met his figure. “The second target has been acquired.” it announced, soonafter the entire beam freezing as the stagnant cold would meet zoom down along its form and snag onto that of Scoria, turning her into a bright popsicle.

 

Every remaining Empyrean within looked upon with awe, dread, and fear as their very lives could be felt soaking from them. All within having a hard time breathing as the air had become so thick and cold that regular functions were choking them and leaving all within immobilized. Pheon herself began to weep, as tears of gold leaked down her cheeks amongst the floors just below her at the cause having been lost today. Her feathers would begin to glow, as with the trio of blessed Daemons coming to rid her of life she called out.

 

“To my Lord, the death of these Empyreans is unjustified. Do not let the souls of those whom fall here today be in a vein…”

 

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Spoiler

 

[!] Following her call, the Celestial creation’s wings would begin to flow with an unnatural hue of light. A chorus of sounds and notes would fill the completely ruined church. The Empyreans within are left awestruck, as when looking through that of the broken roof one could see the clouds parting to send a beam of a white light amongst that of the church’s back.

 

Pheon’s feathers would instinctively part, and she looks upwards onto that of the clouds in recognition of the choir which speaks to her ears. Hoping herself to not be deceived as a trick of her failing mind, she turns to the skies.

 

Alongside Pheon, everyone else gathered looks in unison at the divine shimmer which has broken through the veil of freezing cold corruptive energy in this battlefield. Some of the mindless Extinguishers even left for a moment in shock and fright at the display which has overwhelmed that of Agillen’s presence.

In that next moment, those whom looked into the skies couldn’t even keep up with the movements as a figure shot down at a sonic speed. The Empyreans and crowds of broken individuals jerk their heads down to see a figure within robes of white smashing Agillen straight within his chest. The Second Hand’s armor cracking as he’s rebounded back nearly 200 feet to the outside. 

 

Dagon and Mor’ran struck with amazement don’t allow such to stagger them, immediately jumping forth to try and slay this beast whose disrespected their superior, only for the robed angelic creation to outspeed them. The robed being flicks their wrist rightward, sending forth what seems to be thousands of chains from the depths of their robe to grapple upon Dagon- constraining him in a painful burning sensation.

 

Mor’ran’s figure roars at the disrespect to his Archaic companion, only to have what onlookers could only describe as a golden ballista bolt piercing straight through his chest from out of nowhere. A blue ichor spills from Mor’ran’s mawl, only for the bolt to then arc at 90 degree angles and shoot back and forth to continuously blow chunks out of his mass. It takes less than 5 seconds for the Almighty to be turned into swiss cheese, before the robed beast’s cloak flings outwards and completely surrounds Mor’ran in a glowing prominence. Seconds later, a singular Celestial word is said before the cloak (and Almighty in toe) are blown into that of rocks, bone, and viscera.

 

Standing before the army now stands what most consider as one of their True Celestial Princes. 10 feet tall with a brass ring as a head and multiple winged doves and arrows around their person, The Lesser7 Celestial Prince reveals himself.

 

“With my grace I command it, no more of the Empyric Unit shall die.”

 

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Dreidam, Lesser Celestial Prince, Prince of Flight, Arrows, and Courage

 

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[!] Following the abrupt entrance of the Greater Celestial being, Tykarius watches in awe. Pheon herself moved out of the way as they gazed on. None of the regular Extinguishers dared to venture forth at what seemed to be an instant victory on the Front of Light. Dagon the Archaic merely hisses as his entire body seers from the holy burns which smolder a disgusting scar tissue amongst his center mass.

 

“I speak with a calm grace, the Daemonic ilk here before me all are marked with the Celestial Brand. Your lives are forfeit to that of the eternal campaign set upon you. The mightiest pity able to be afforded to that of your kind is a quick purge from this world.” the absolution of the divine’s words hits that of every singular demon in the room. An unknown response, a survival instinct thrown amongst their souls as a form of survival instinctive fear. Even the Empyrean Unit itself is still struck in their own stances, blown away by the feat. That is until one figure does manage to keep its actions continued.

 

“How lucky I am that I will have a Prince as my opponent. I will rip apart that ring amongst your head and turn it into a grand trophy for Lord Tyranos.” Deidram twists with grace, facing the center of the church once more to onlook Agillen once again. His armor cracked, a terrible fuming chill exploded out with a pressurized force. The cold is of such an intensity it freezes the air about it, causing nothing but a stream of ice contorting from Agillen’s figure. “Today shall mark as a trail, my ascension into divinity alongside my Lord. In such I shall soak my blood in the name of a god and transcend alongside such.” 

 

[!] On Agillen’s queue, the pressured breaks within his armor would shatter. The whiplash of air shooting outwards causes an extreme propulsive force, enough to send the figure at hyperspeeds at the Celestial. Dreidam able to bring up his mitts to guard would suddenly then be shot from the grounds, now soaring throughout the hued skies above. Onlookers could only see the two as rapidly moving lights of blue and yellow fighting amongst the heavens in an intense fervor.

 

Meanwhile on the grounds, Tykarius would finally be able to pull himself to a stand. The General stays unable to truly breath as he hobbles on over in the direction of Pheon. Pheon herself keeps her eyes glued to the skies, hands in prayer in hopes for the success of her patron and devout being. Throughout the battle within the skies, there’s a voice which reverbs amongst the hearts of those on the ground. A growing hope attempts to blossom as the people in speciation cry. “To thou holy Princes, win for the sake of those whom’ve no chance in such other cases.”

 

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Agillen, The Center of the Blizzard, The Uncontained Chill

 

[!] Within the sky, that prayer would be able to be heard. Agillen’s might and speed were true, able to grasp amongst Dreidam and tunnel him straight through mountains, blast multiple blows amongst him, and even embed him into the earths of the scattered islands in this plane. The Prince meanwhile mostly played in a sense of defense, calling his form to grow panels of light and feathers to help with his maneuverability and durability. As such, a growling taunt is throw his way.

 

“You will be unable to win if you do nothing but block, DREIDAM.” the beast screeches, lunging forth as it hooks an overhead slam across Dreidam’s head. This blow packed the force to ricochet the Prince across a multitude of the various scattered isles in this Plane, to which Dreidam’s response would be calling forth more golden chains- thousands at a time to fling from the skies and grapple onto Agillen’s hand. Despite the ease ensnaring foes it had shown in other instances, the moment the chains would snap on Agillen, the links would freeze into a brittle nothingness and snap. “The ability of sheer cold, the power to freeze any and all matter… including the metaphysical.” Agillen’s mawl grows into a smile, as an overconfidence catches the tongues of the Frozen Beast. Moments following his explanation the Daemon reels a hook right into the Prince’s stomach, flinging him hundreds of feet hurtling into the air. Freezing winds blast from the whiplashed currents of air from such a boom, as Agillen continues to break the thousands of chains which desperately try to ensare him.

 

Agillen’s path brings him up at the same velocity of Dreidam’s bound within the skies, following with a chilling source of harded cold amongst his fist ready to pierce through the Prince. Meanwhile, the hundreds of thousands of chains seem to swirl and follow the battle, broken apart as their links of golden metal fling along throughout the air with the current of the battle. "You should be aware Dreidam, your binds can NOT capture m-” is what Agillen begins with, before all the different parts of the broken chain's links fling throughout the air and smash into his figure. All the small parts quickly grow to encircle the Daemon. Dove feathers carry along as well, helping as they begin to wrap amongst and cover the beast. A circular formation grows nigh exponentially within the seconds, ending up to be about 100 feet in radius would be a gigantic ball, wrapped and containing Agillen as a core. Throughout this process, the Prince charges their figure with a hand extended amongst such- “Your ilk never looks past the simplest of rouses… you walk blindly into that of your own demises…”. The minute in which the new mass of chain lays within the air, Dreidam flings forth and presses both of his hands and announces a simple name spells incantation. Following the words, the entire mass would explode into a bright grace akin to the stars. A burning heat which would have a screeching voice from its mass, the sound of Agillen being the center point for an entire star’s burning flame.

 

“IS THAT ALL YOU’VE GOT?!” the voice commands from within, the sound a terrible growl of insane hissing and gurgling as Agillen is obviously thrown into an immense pain. “Not quite.” responds the Prince, slowly flipping about as he calls a single double-helixed blade with his hands, commanding forth a spiraling bolt of pure Celestial energy. The projectile would seem to span almost 25 feet in length, and 5-8 in girth as it points straight upon that of the sun just before it.

 

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A small pendant version of Dreidam’s Arrow: A double helixed sword which can only be shot from the mightest bows. Due to its architecture, it is said to be able to split whatever it hits in half.

 

[!] In that next moment, the arrow is flung from Dreidam’s side right into the sun. Its trajectory hits the center with absolutely no sense of deviation, a perfect shot. The arrow comes out the other side, and with a satisfying slice the entire star would begin to explode into a vibrant burst of flame and light.

 

Those watching need to shield their eyes from the intensive brunt of force which just expelled from such, Dreidam himself being lost in the blinding area of effect which had just taken up the entire skies. The sheen lasted for a solid 30 seconds, before finally a dimmed silhouette could be seen within the heavens. Falling down to earth, the defeated husk of Agillen leaves an embedded crater within that of the now ruined Church of Gleam. Agillen lays, unconscious and sizzling as his freezing aura has nearly fully melted away. 

 

Every Extinguisher present lets out a roar, backing off as they not even dare believe themselves able to touch that of the nigh-dead Empyrean unit amongst that of the church given their general had just been dispatched by this golden being. Dreidam himself would follow down amongst the church, his feet plopping on the stones as he brings up his arrow alike a sword just above him.

 

“As I proclaimed. Your kin will not ruin those without a fighting chance.”

 

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An artist’s depiction of Agillen being turned into the core of a miniature supernova.

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[!] The silent moment wouldn’t quell the sensations of most. Dagon the Archaic watched on as his accomplices and past superiors laid either dead or defeated before him. The burning chains melting deeper into his gut by the moment. Dagon nearly filing down his own teeth via the jagged snarl of grinding ivories within his mouth from the pain and overwhelming emotion.

 

Meanwhile the other Empyric figures would all begin to savor a moment of extreme emotion, cheering onwards towards the being who had just saved them all. Tykarius chokes on his own astonishment, as every Demi-Celestial raises their hands in honor for that of the Prince before them. Seconds later, Dreidam instates his beliefs down to Agillen once again.

 

“Weakened Blizzard, you lost the moment you dared to bring your wretched soul outside the Steppes. Your life would have been most fulfilled within the corruptive depths you’ve spawned from.” judged the being, slowly preparing their weapon above that of Agillen as to put the quasi-beast out of its suffering. “FphuCk yEw..” would drool out of its mawl, bubbling within the creature’s throat as it stays entirely splayed out and motionless. The Prince doesn't offer a chance at a response before then flinging down its sword. It’s such a fast action, that the only thing most people process is a loud burst, and the sound of blood spraying heavily from a creature. Though, fate would impart that this existence is a cruel one, not brandishing the ideal of a perfect happy ending.

 

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Tyranos, The Forthbringer of Winter, Demonic Prince

 

[!] In that moment, there’d be a new mass besides that of the fallen Agillen and proud Dreidam. Alongside the sound of ichoring bursting from one’s form, the image of a gigantic armored beast holding a sword through that of the Celestials stomach could be clearly gathered for all to see. A hulking stature of a Demon, whose very arrival not only flung forth his chilling cold aura to dispatch all Celestial Material Creations made alongside the area, but also froze over the hopes of any inside the Empyric Unit at once.

 

Dreidam would stand in a form of complete shock, as an unfamiliar sensation of Daemonic Corruption began to flow throughout that of his pureblooded Angeulic origin. Meanwhile, Tyranos hushes out a low tone to that of the Prince, “From the cosmos in which you came, return as the sheep you are. A being since the beginnings of time, you lay as a reminder as to the wrongdoings of the many universes. Parabos’ ire fills your kind in all facets… relish in your failure in that of the Horde.” Throughout his words, the Forthbringer’s hands would raise to grasp at the side of Dreidam’s ring of a head on either side. An intensive pressure would begin to jarr across the golden material, looking to break it apart. A scream in Celestial tongues pierces the airs, as Tyranos yells out an order. “DAGON, retrieve the Priestess.”

Moments later, the newly freed Dagon would respond to that of his master in an assured tongue. Despite missing both his arms from the match prior, a chilling layer of ice would grow out in his stead as to allow him some maneuverability to fling by and grab the ensared Lightkin, moments later flinging off to the back reaches of the frozen ranks.

 

Pheon and Tykarius attempted to stop such, however most everyone involved was not only floored due to wounds and the corruptive freeze of the Forthbringer’s mass… but the situation captivated and glued everyone to that of their savior. Dreidam’s unnatural cosmic scream which sounded akin to glass shattering and reverbing amongst a hundred walls. Tyranos’ face could not be seen behind a heavy-structured armored helm of frozen ice, however he’d spit out a colden phrase “Parabos, this is all you can send against me?” Moments later, Dreidam’s head would entirely snap. A chained whiplash of golden energy would ripple outwards from such, leaving those all about in a breath taken horror. 

 

Tyranos would turn however, not all seemed right with such. Dreidam layed motionless on the floor, and yet his feathers in the air still moved with their own beauty and grace in the wind. Moments later Pheon would be addressed directly by the Forthbringer “Your Patron is defeated, your attempts at obscuring me via the manipulation of his remains is quite the stunt.” the large Daemon then began his trek forth onto that of Pheon. Pheon herself, having completely drained herself of tears at the sentiment of her mentor having fallen to that of the golden dusts would respond in a strained exasperation. “Dreidam’s will is not complete fiend. He made a proclaimation once he arrived here, do you not remember?”
 

Moments after such, Tyranos would look onto that of the skies. Golden portals, millions upon millions ranging from half a foot to 5 feet in diameter laid everywhere, for miles. Filling the entire sky, they all lit up that of the frozen airs, pointed straight down upon Tyranos. “His will would carry on… you are nothing in comparison.  Those who create have a neverending stockpile to use against the ones whom will always corrupt.” Her words are a ruthless tone despite the malevolent being before her. However, Tyranos would merely begin to prepare himself in a stance. Moments later, every single portal would have hundreds of arrows shoot out from such.

 

All arcing throughout the sky, ballista bolts, magical arrows, tribal quivers, arbelasts ammo, every single projectile of such a caliber would fling out all at once. Trying to keep track of how many there were was impossible, as hundreds of millions shot with such a speed that most any Extinguisher left at that place would get riddled into nothingness. Each piece programmed with a specific action, and some even shooting amongst the arrow the softly clip upon the scruffs of the Empyric front’s cloths to bring them into the skies and fling them away from safety. Tykarius and Pheon would attempt to resist, not wishing themselves to feel underwhelmed by what was a form of forced retreat, however both knew inside that a mindless death would bring about nothing but a harsher acceptance of the fact which had just happened.

 

Tyranos, Agillen, Mor’ran’s corpse, and Dagon all disappeared underneath that of the endless barrage. Despite acting as a beautiful distraction, such a move would certainly not have killed Tyranos at the very least. And what was assured, was that the Priestess had been taken away towards that of the frozen tyrant’s lair. Left with nothing but regret, a report would be made to the Celestial Conclaves soonafter.

 

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A fraction of the barrage of golden arrows flung towards the Cold Front

 

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To The Celestial Conclaves Scattered Across The Worlds

As of today, we’ve lost an important member of our society and order since its very beginning. Dreidam was a mentor to many, and failure to none. In his own ordnance, the Prince decided himself to confront that of Tyranos the Forthbringer and his army by himself against that of the Celestial Court’s opinions. This decision was said to arise last minute because of Dreidam’s personal attachment to that of the soldiers who were sent into a mission which was reported to have been a death wish for all involved otherwise. As a result of his appearance, thousands of Daemons were purified, Almighty and Archaic creations were defeated, and Lord Tyranos was left unable to slay the unit of Empyric War. 

 

As a result of this, Tyranos is said to be now merely 1 step away from an ascended power which can truthfully rival the Celestial Conclave and remaining Empyrean forces. The Raptures of Anoma have caused an absolute nuisance in terms of a endless wave of Demonic threats invading our holy gardens and governance, however this is not an excuse for failure.

 

We shall overcome.

We shall adapt.

We will rise in vengeance.

 

The Celestial Conclave will not hide in this face of challenge. We look forward to renewing our courage and purpose once more.

The Judge, Parabos

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Appendix

1 - It is a practiced tradition and strange structural proceeding within that of the Steppes for each Daemonic lord to have 5 Elites. A Second Hand, Two Almightys, and Two Archaics in order to their respective rank within the legions of their Superior Lord.

2 - Truthseekers are a shorthand for Demi-Celestials whom hold a portion of Celestial grace within them. The range of power which Truthseekers can access is heavily variant upon whichever source of magic they call from, but almost always any whom ascertain such magic are able to stand alone as a general themselves.

3 - Genasi are a form of quasi-humanoid Elemental which are molded in the shape of the respective Lord. Whilst Darkspawn are the most widely spread Genasi and often bring with them ravage feral desolation, Lightkin, Fireborn, Earthtounged, etc. It is often rumored that the first Lightkin laid the structure for how Empyreans would come into being.

4 - Unlike most Planes, the Elemental Lands are often considered very open in their allowance of Extra-Planar beings, especially if it’d lead to the downfall of their enemies. Something such as a creature that arrives in the Elements which can call forth and expand a Lord’s domain into the other’s realms (such as Extinguishers throwing the Ralios’ burning hellscape into a blizzard) will often not be stopped by the other Lords.

5 - Empyreans ever since the last Daemonic War have been extremely understaffed. With the slow reproduction rate of Empyreans, alongside the need to strategically staff a multitude of different webways across different planes, it is not uncommon for their to be expeditions which are staffed to fail from the start as to allow more troops to be placed in a different battlefield.

6 - Truthseeking, akin to most other quite intensive magics, call upon that of Tear to power. Whilst expanded beings can often undertake Tear much easier, even the Gods themselves can undergo the cracks of reality breaking should they do something too drastic.

7 - The Celestial Princes have often been a strange prospect amongst Empyreans. By definition, there are only Three Celestial Princes: Parabos, Treida, and Phalarsm. However, some more virtuous Empyreans also like to contain the grand accomplishments of the Lesser Celestial Princes of time. As of concurrent there are 3: Dreidam, Belador, and Sephradoir. These are Greater Celestial Beings on par with that of the Princes, whom have had sway over the affairs of Parabos and the multitude of other Celestials, however have not been alive since the beginnings such as the main Three.

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Spoiler

The beasts whom dare to enter my realm are onset for ruin.

None, none, attempt to ruin my land of slumber.

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