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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Valdar deftly stepped aside, as another shower of arrows fell. Undaunted, the ranger reached over his shoulders for another arrow, nocking and drawing the planar infused string in mere heartbeats while his eyes narrowed in search of an open spot, any crack or new weakness in his foe's mighty armor. The warlord brought his axe down, slamming into the crowd of would-be-heroes, crushing a score and sending more flying over the mound of corpses that surrounded the black clad figure.

 

He let fly a moment later, the black arrow spinning into the darkness to punch through the foot thick armor, yet another crack in the otherwise smooth surface of the armor. If they did not have a breech soon, this battle would be lost, he decided, taking a moment to glance around.

 

The battlefield was a boiling mass of organised chaos. Of those who had invaded this god's domain, only half yet lived. Another flight of arrows decended, and he cussed as one glanced off a shoulderpad. Valdar quickly retaliated in turn. These archers were not half bad. A moment later, a shriek joined the caphagony of sound as the creature plummeted to the arena floor.

 

Turning back to the matter at hand, he lowered his bow and seized up the situation.

 

Glowing blue strands of mana floated by his face. The threads of reality here were. . .thin. Too much magic in the air. Caught in a dominating command, a massive war-bull lowered it's horns and charged into the thickness of the fray. Elsewhere, a damaged gargoyle slowly spiraled to the ground, shattered stone wings unable to keep it afloat. A dozen more decended on the crowd of casters, tearing through their ranks before the survivors scattered. Another wizard staggered up to him, before collapsing, both magic and life-force drained with an arrow protuding from his neck.

 

The inhuman archers cackled gleefully from above.

 

His eyes traveled to the thickest part of the battle. . .

 

The tattered remains of the raid pushed forward doggedly, war cries issueing from parched throats as their blades rose and fell. Mighty warriors in their own rights, Assasins, Paladins and their nether brethren united for the day against a common, and worthy foe. But they were no match. Again, the great axe fell, cleaving through plate armor as though paper. A thunderous blast threw more dust into the air from beyond his field of vision, as the wizards amoungs their ranks engaged the minions of Rallos Zek.

 

High above the battlefield, the war crows circled. . .

 

A nearby scream caused him to turn in time to see a fellow ranger thrown into the air by a raging bull that had somehow gotten out of control. Rendering himself invisible for a moment, the disoriented bull slowed for a moment, before crashing off towards the already hard-pressed frontline even as the black armored god was illuminated by pure magic in the fog of war.

 

The battle had indeed reached a turning point, and he decided. An unholy glow filled his eyes, as echoes from the other shards poured into his mind.

 

. . .Must proceed. . .

. . .Path to the void must be revealed. . .

. . .Gateway to the Elements. . .

. . .Too much magic already. . .

. . .Must escape this trap. . .

. . .They will not notice. . .

. . .This is the gatekeeper. . .

. . .Must. . .DESTROY.

 

The shards flowed together, and the chant began.

 

Rallos Zek, the God of War backed away from his easy fight in disbeleif as the presence exposed itself to his mind, the clatter of blades on his thick armor forgotten.

 

The language was not native to Norrath, nor was it known to many in the multiverse. For the first time in a hundred thousand years on Norrath, a mortal adressed the gods directly, in their secret tongue of council. It spoke in ritual, and of one of the rituals most feared by immortal creatures. The sentence of banishment.

 

"NO!!!" The god stepped over his direct opponents, crushing several even as the braver amoung their commarades clung to his armor and began to climb.

 

But it was too late. With a cruel smirk on his face, the ranger completed the verse, and judgement. The glowing red eyes of the War god flared in the darkness of his helm, and then went out.

 

The warlord appeared to lean forward, arm outstreched towards the singularity of power before him. . .and then the empty armor pieces crashed to the floor. Valdar stepped around the smoking gauntlets, to stand before the black helm. The stink of magic would linger for days, he decided. Not unusual, for a battle of this sort. His presence would continue undetected, for now, unless his enemies were inspected the traces more closeley. A few survivors raised a cry of joy at the unexpected victory, though most mereley collapsed in exhaustion. Already, arguments were breaking out over the looting of the god's body.

 

The helm stared emptily back, and he shifted his preception.

 

Who are you, to have such power over me?

 

Do you forget me already, Rallos? my companion and I were brash, then, when we foolishly invaded this realm.

 

YOU! I . . .We killed you!

 

We are harder to kill than you think, oh god of war. Your trap was very clevar, I admit. But you were sloppy in not examining more closeley after you pushed us into the timestream. We lost most of our powers, then. . .powers, that you may notice, we have regained.

 

So, will you kill me now? and attempt to assimilate my mind and soul? Become as a god?

 

No.

 

What would you have of me, then?

 

I desire knowlege. . .knowlege of this clevar time-trap you have in place around this planar sphere. Give this to me, and I will grant you gentle oblivion until your powers grow strong enough to resume the mantle of godhood.

 

And if I do not?

 

There is no NOT, godling a new voice imposed.

 

My student has done well, though I had to jog his memory a bit towards the end. I, who have plundered the dreams of eternity, know and mark your secrets well. My soul thirsts for god-essence again, and on god-essence shall I indulge myself should you fail.

 

Your soul is mine, Rallos Zek the Warlord. The voice from the Void echoed through two minds.

 

You are in my limbo now. You have fourteen Norrathian days.

 

-End

 

Writer Comments: :angry:

I wrote this at 3 AM, finished at 4. I'm not too happy with the last bit. Long conversations seem a bad way to end a story, in my opinion. Other than that, it feels like a standard-issue actionhero story you see every-so-often. Problem is, there _is_ an underlying plot, which is the journey of Valdar back into the void. A lot of the 'big' story is not yet written, but if this is your cake, please do enjoy these occational dislocated seemingly pointless stories!

 

Disclaimer for EQ'ers!!!: No, I have not done RZ yet. I will be, soon, however. Time will tell if we win or not. \^_^/

 

Ps: Any feedback welcome!

 

PPs: Yes, he had dreamer intervention. Val is still a bit. . .er, wet behind the ears.

Edited by Valdar and Astralis
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