Dear lord d, i just spent ages rereading all this, and getting fully caught up, and must say… you have one twisted mind. And I thank you for it, you wouldn’t have been able to come up with half this stuff without it.
Alright, let us resume…
The Final Saga Part 121: Warmonger
By d_Galloway
After several hours of running, Galloway and Weiila finally collapsed, the strain of their exercise too much for their bodies to take. Blue Robe and White Robe quickly went to sleep, while the armored figures continued to remain motionless. “Why…are we listening…to them?” asked Weiila.
“No idea…” gasped Galloway. “If I could…just lift my arm…”
The bemused figure of Lone Wolf soon bent above them, a cruel smile spread across his face. “Hello, down there. Anyone ever tell you full-plate armor is extremely heavy?”
“…Fuck…you,” cursed Weiila.
“No thanks,” said Lone Wolf. “Here, let me help you…”
(ONE EPIC ARMOR-REMOVING MINUTE LATER)
The Saiyan and the Angel laboriously climbed to their feet, their bodies drenches in sweat, their clothes stained beyond repair, their hair matted down like a recently crushed victim of a Thwomp. Both quickly bowed in thanks to the Kai Supreme Master, who nodded in acknowledgment. “Next time, don’t let those two push you around.”
“I know, but we DO have to keep training,” said Weiila. “Naar could begin his attack any minute.”
“We shall return to RPGC in the morning,” said Lone Wolf. “From there, we can properly prepare for the final battle. In the meantime, I must speak with Galloway.” The Goddess nodded and slowly limped her way to a guest building. “Now, we must prepare the ritual.”
“What…ritual?”
“In acknowledgment of your…services, Kai and I are willing to raise your title in the Order of the Kai.” Lone Wolf handed Galloway a small parchment, on which was written a number of strange symbols and letters. “You will commune with Kai, and from then on, will be officially known as Kai Master d Galloway. We may then begin teaching you in the ways of the Magnakai.”
Galloway’s face practically burst with the force of his joy. “You mean…a Kai Master? At long last?” He threw himself onto Lone Wolf with enough force to knock the old master down. “Thank you, master, thank you! I swear I will bring honor to the Kai!”
Lone Wolf pushed the saiyan aside and pulled himself up. “Good to see some joy in your eyes again. Now, during your communion, you will be allowed to ask Kai one question. You have one hour to prepare, while I prepare the meditation chamber. Meet me in the village center as soon as you are ready.”
Galloway quickly slammed his hand to his heart, as a means of enthusiastically saluting the departing Supreme Master. As he did so, however, his hand struck something hard in his shirt. Reaching inside, he found a battered video tape, dinged but otherwise undamaged. Then he remembered his meeting with Ishir, and the mystery revolving around this whole war…
The forces of RPGC returned to their homeland, to find that nothing had changed. Still, it was time to begin for the final battle. And to do that, they would need allies…
After an hour of waiting, Galloway made his way to the center of the village. Lone Wolf had already arranged a circle of torches, with a statue of Kai’s bearded form adorning one end. Lone Wolf was already bowed in prayer at the statue, his temple covered in sweat from his intense mental concentration. As Galloway approached the circle, he suddenly opened his eyes, never turning away from the statue. “Do not stand in the circle yet,” he said. “We must confer first.”
Galloway watched in silence as the Supreme Master lit two bowls of essence, one at each side of the makeshift altar, and then rose and approached the Saiyan. He clasped both of his shoulders, his deep eyes gazing into his young acolyte’s soul. “Are you ready to accept the Kai?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Will you battle Naar and the forces of Darkness, in all their forms, for the sake of all life?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Then enter the circle. Bow before the statue, and empty your mind.” The Supreme Master stepped aside, allowing Galloway to walk past the torches and bow on his knees. He slowly began to empty his mind, no small task considering his defective attention span, and waited for the visage of his god to appear…
Suddenly, he was standing in the Kai Monastery, facing the powerful god Kai, seated upon a massive throne. “Galloway. You have returned.”
“Yes, I have,” said Galloway, his mood suddenly grim. Kai obviously noticed, but seemed to pay it no heed.
“The time is coming, when the final battle against Naar will begin. Many lives will be lost, but remember; only a follower of Kai can actually defeat the dark god. You must train yourself to be stronger than ever, for in your current state you are no match for Naar’s powers. Now, ask your question.”
“Why did you start the war?”
Kai grimaced slightly. Galloway was obviously unnerved. “So, Ishir has revealed everything.”
“I figured part of it myself,” said Galloway. “I couldn’t see you, but I can make out your voice over Naar’s any day. Now, why did you start this?”
“You do not understand Naar as I do,” said the god. “Do you truly think he would abide by the agreement himself? He would just as surely destroyed me at the first opportunity.”
“So…you started a war…that has been raging for countless millennia…because of some small bit of doubt?”
“It does not matter,” growled Kai.
Galloway’s reaction was swift and immediate. “It does to me.”
Weiila approached Lone Wolf, a look of curiosity spread across her face. “I didn’t know Kai Lords prayed.”
“More like meditation than anything else,” said Lone Wolf. “I was hoping to move Galloway’s training forward, in preparation for the battles to come. But now…”
“He’s gonna blow it. Again.”
The Kai Supreme Master sighed. “Most likely. Even so, this is just a formality. The true trials will begin tomorrow.”
Kai rose from his throne, his rage violently shaking the entire hall. “What is the meaning of this? You dare to question your purpose?”
“If you mean that I’ll go along with Naar, then no,” responded Galloway. For once, he didn’t seem to flinch at the god’s wrath; whether this was because of some assurance that he was not in any real danger, or if he was simply feeling like a cocky little bastard at the moment, is up to debate. “He is a monster, and must be destroyed. But…”
“Then why do you find uncertainty in your situation?”
“Because a true hero asks questions,” responded the Saiyan.
Kai was briefly taken aback, but soon managed to regain his former composure. “You are obstinate and frustrating as always, Galloway. I will allow Lone Wolf to train you further, if only because we have no choice. However, and to borrow a phrase from you mortals, I find your lack of faith disturbing. Surely you have received enough of my aid to…” He suddenly stopped. “This is pointless. Congratulations, Kai Master. Return to Lone Wolf with my blessings for the moment. But if you should ever speak in such a way again…”
Galloway’s body was suddenly flung from the altar with amazing force, flying out of the circle and smashing into Yellow Tiger’s still-sitting form with a sickening thud. The saiyan slowly slid to the ground, while the android remained frozen in place, only turning her head to look at the pathetic figure before her. Lone Wolf and Weiila quickly ran to the small bluff, even as Galloway limply climbed to his feet. “Well? What happened?” said Weiila.
“I think I pissed Kai off, but we’re fine for now,” muttered Galloway. “Now…can we please take five? I’ve taken enough abuse for one day.” He then fell forward with a loud thud, followed by a sickening crack. “And can someone please move these rocks next time? I think I just shattered my pelvis.”
THE END OF PART 121
Next time: Old allies return…
POP!
<.<
>.>
Catches up on the story
Enjoys it
Leaves before anyone notices he was here
POOF!
:hahaha;
I tought I taw an old mage… I did! I did taw an old mage.
cough
Wow it lives… ahem I mean nices update d. And I remember that tape, I actually wondered if you had forgot about it since it was mentioned so long ago and all.
is rocking in his corner of the office cubicle Holy crap! So…much…reading!
gets up Well, finally read all of this. >_< And it is no mean feat as there was 120 episodes to read, each over 500 words long…Which equals over 60,000 words!!!
…I need to go back to work. goes back to whatever experiment is next set out for him
The Final Saga part 122: Alliance of Heroes
by d_Galloway
Naar’s massive army stood in absolute formation, their endless lines and battalions stretching across nearly all of the Plane of Darkness. Unspeakable horrors, their shapes alien and incomprehensible for even the most learned and stalwart of minds, waited impatiently for their master’s coming, ever eager to serve his greater interests. For his part, Naar was brimming with anticipation as well. The invasion would soon begin, RPGC would crumble, and once Lone Wolf and Galloway were dead, the Kai Lords would be extinct once and forever. He was about as giddy as a black-armored god of all that is evil could possibly be.
Hours passed as everyone soaked in the anticipation, the growing bloodlust, the desire to spread fear and panic to the enemies of darkness. Finally, Naar marched onto the balcony, his gaze flying over his amassed horde; for once, he was pleased. This was a grander army than even the force that had conquered the Heavens.
“Soldiers of Evil!” shouted Naar. His voice boomed across the stripped plains like cackling thunder. “Today we march to glory. The enemy is great in numbers, but we shall bury them under our massive flood. The enemy is great in power, but we shall strangle the strength from them. The enemy holds the secrets of Kai, but we shall remove it from all understanding forever. We have made the very Heavens cry at our coming. Entire universes have been razed at our hands. Individually, we can be defeated, but together, as one army, as one BEING, we are invincible!”
The forces shouted, growled, hissed, and roared their approval. After allowing the approving gestures for a few minutes, Naar finally motioned to stop. “Soon, the Shadow Gates shall open, and our forces shall pour out like a great sea. We shall conquer this world like we have thousands of others!”
(to be continued)
More tomorrow.
Back in RPGC, the gathered heroes had begun to disperse. Some returned to the police station, to rendezvous with the gathered mercenaries. Still others returned to RPGC Castle, hoping to prepare the guards for war. And even more simply returned to their homes for the time being, weary from their death and ressurection, and feeling rather disheartened by their chances. Only Sinistral remained with the RPGC Task Force, his eyes locked on a nondescript spot on the cold steel floor.
The Task Force, for their part, were seated around him at the meeting table, their heads hung dismissively. Even kiro, the catgirl that would have been filling the entire bunker with scorch marks and spent shells by this time, seemed to lose what little vigor she had left. It was Mabatsekker who finally broke the mournful silence. “So…what do we do now?”
“We do nothing,” said Sinistral.
“I disagree with that notion,” said Beckons. “I mean, we can-”
Sinistral didn’t even lift his head; were it not for his words, he would have seemed completely dead. “In the last few weeks, RPGC’s infrastructure has been completely destroyed. The mercenaries first take over the town, and then the clones cost us valuable time. The zombie attack only hastened things. We are undermanned, underarmed, and almost allyless. Our agreement with the Norse Pantheon is hanging by a thread, and they WILL betray us by the end of this.”
“What about Weiila?” said GG Crono. “I mean, she’s a goddess!”
“That’s not Weiila,” said Sin. Everyone looked at him in half-shock. “That…thing she’s become is cold-blooded, ruthless, and apparently partially unhinged. And now, she’s the most powerful force in RPGC, now that Loki is missing and Galloway was depowered.”
“Is there…any way to win?” whispered kiro, her voice raspy from silent tears.
“Not without more allies,” said Heaven’s Soldier.
That was when inspiration hit, of all people, Glenton, its arch-nemesis and perpetual buttmonkey. That, or he leaned back too far in smug satisfaction at seeing his enemies morally crushed and fell on his ass. Either way, after he pulled himself back up… “I got it! You guys are heroes, right?”
“Of course,” said Heaven’s Soldier.
“And what do heroes do? They save people’s asses! Very grateful people’s asses, I might add!”
The formation of a plan suddenly struck Sin as well. That, or he had a sudden flashback to the Orakian Crusades, causing him to slam his hand on the table with enough force to nearly fracture his wrist. Still… “That’s it! It’s time to call in some favors!”
The rest of the Task Force finally got into the swing of things, but fortunately without the needless special effects. “Crono, are the archives still working?” shouted Heaven’s Soldier.
“Like a charm!” said GG.
“kiro, get ahold of Martinez! Tell him to call up every dimension he’s ever been to!” kiro let out a small salute before dashing up, a helpless Rio in tow. “Glenton, get ahold of the underworld! Let them know that if they sign up with us, we’ll forgive some of their past offences!” Half out of self-serving survialism, Glenton nodded and rushed off. “Beckons! Get every available soldier you can! Tell them to prepare to march!” Beckons bowed and faded away. “And Mabat, get in touch with the Gods! Tell them it’s time they took some action!” Mabat nodded and slipped off.
Sinistral let out a small smile. “You really think they’re going to all come?”
“Not everyone,” said Heaven’s Soldier. “Some are ungrateful, some don’t remember us, and a few probably don’t even know the danger they’re in. I’m just banking on those that DO being powerful and aware enough to give us an edge.”
“And what about Weiila?”
“She’ll be here. She may be a goddess, but she’s still the person we all knew her to be…”
Mabatsekker was halfway to the dimensional portal when everything suddenly faded to white. Within seconds, he found himself standing in a large Roman pantheon of sorts, staring straight at all manner of gods and mythical beings. The Norse Gods were in attendance, of course, helmed by Freya, but it seemed like damn near every other pantheon, even ones he didn’t recognize, were all seated before him.
After several agonizingly silent minutes, Mabat finally cleared his throat. “Wh-What just happened?”
“We’ve been watching you since the first Naar incident,” said one of the gods. “We knew you were trying to find your way here. Thought we’d spare you the trip.”
“Then…Then you know why I’m here?”
“Of course we know!” said another. “Kai has beseeched our aid for centuries. He will not get a drop of my followers’ blood!”
“Nor mine!”
“I will not lose what few worshippers I have!”
“You have our answer, mortal! Now leave our-”
Even before the words had left the god’s lips, Mabat had an idea. It was wild, absurb, and totally stupid. He knew he was probably going to die, but if he understood his powers properly, and his body could take it, AND the whole universe wasn’t going to die, he might have a chance. “Alright, so you won’t help us now. But what’ll happen down the line?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you think Naar’s gonna be happy stomping out one little threat?” said Mabat. “The bastard’s rushing through one universe after another. The only thing keeping him at bay are the Kai and his TWO true followers. Once he’s wiped them out, what’s he gonna do next? He’ll start on the next universe, and the one after that.”
“That is against our order. The universe was divided fairly when-”
“When everything was born, yeah yeah yeah, we went through this last year. Do you really think Naar cares anymore? The guy’s evil distilled into its purest form. From what I’ve heard, he had the same deal with Kai, backstabbed him, and then simply corrupted what he couldn’t take by force. We’ve seen his handiwork better than any of you. And frankly, I’m sick of you bastards hanging out up here and not doing a fucking thing to help!”
“…Our answer remains unchanged. We can defeat Naar easily.”
“Oh, yeah? Didn’t he kick your ass no more than a few weeks ago? His MORTAL forces crushed your precious, hand-picked disciples. And that wasn’t even his main force; he was REALLY after a several thousand-year-old blonde guy and a saiyan. Imagine what he’ll do when he comes back.”
“This is a mortal-”
“Mortal my blue mage ass! You’re supposed to be the fucking gods, the beings that control everything from the cosmos. So far all I’ve seen you do is bitch and moan about your supposed subjects and why they don’t deserve your help! Here’s a guy from a world NONE of you bastards control! You can’t shut me up without pissing off your own precious control! And if you want to save your asses, then you’ll give us some fucking support!”
Glenton suddenly felt very unsure of himself, standing in the middle of his old hangouts. RPGC’s most run-down of districts, rampant with slum housing, crack houses, and seedy brothels, was once a stomping ground for thieves like himself. Now was different. He was supposed to play the part of hero, giving the same olive branch to the thugs and punks that he had himself rejected hundreds of times over. And even if he did betray them and escape, he could never really return. Something had changed in him, a kind of caring had formed in his dead heart. And it sickened him.
His musings and self-monologing finally ended when the gangs he had called together arrived. He had been as careful as possible, keeping rivals from being too close to each other, while also making sure they realized he could “drop” live grenades in all their pants without a moment’s provocation. And he probably would afterwards, just to blow off some steam. In any case, negotiations weren’t going to be as hard as television made it appear. For all their gruffness and seeming power, these weren’t real professional criminals. They were little more than little violent brats, and would have an easier time pushing little girls around the playground than take on the “big boys” of the Mafia, or Yakuza, or even the Triads.
Mere minutes are receiving the call, Martinez was already buried under astral charts, old memoirs, ancient journels, golden keepsakes, and various other memorabillia of his many, many adventures. He had also managed to finish recording the exploits of the last Task Force just before Val’s murder, meaning he had access to THEIR accomplishments, as well. In any case, it wasn’t going to be easy to get everyone on their side. Of the universes the Task Force had ventured to, only Matriarch Deralin of Iona was willing to send her forces. That was when he realized the truth.
“Nobody believes us,” he sighed. “I…guess I’ll have to stick to places that Naar personally attacked. Maybe THEN I cam get some help.”
“Who are you talking to?”
Wil turned around to see Nelimar, her eyes half closed from a lack of sleep. “Um…nobody. You see, when you become a superhero, you have to externalize everything that ever crosses your head. That way, everyone knows what’s going on without having to actually show it.”
“And…why do you do this?”
“Because we’re very, very lazy.”
Beckons easily managed to drag his allies out of their beds, cursing himself for not getting the best assignment.
Before long, Beckons and Glenton arrived at the RPGCPD, followers in tow. Sinistral and Heaven’s Soldier were already there, as was GG Crono, the latter being currently in the station. “Alright, that’s two down,” said Sin.
Suddenly, Martinez also returned…followed by about several thousand figures from across the multiverse, running the entire gambit of size, shape and species. “It was a pretty productive night, I’d say,” said Martinez.
Finally, Mabatsekker returned…with nothing at all. “Sorry. They weren’t willing to listen.”
“I knew that,” said Sin. “But we have enough to win this thing, I think. Now, everyone is to get ready for battle. Tomorrow…the real war begins.”
THE END OF PART 122
Next time: Nyarlathotep’s Requim
HAH! Who’s The Man with the Connections? Who??
Er… I mean, nice work, d, as usual. Looking for to the next installments. Ohh, Nyarl’s gonna be back, neat!
But I do SO not think out loud all the time. I do not! I do not, I SAY!!
Uh… I’ll go back to writing my story now. Toodles! 
Arch nemesis of inspiration, eh? Am I that draining of your creative process, d? :mwahaha:
And… I am getting a heart? Ok, that does it… someone give me a box of kittens, I need to earn some bad karma.
But, a good read, d. And very enjoyable.
Oh yeah… look who’s giving out the orders. Alright.
ahem I mean… bout time we called in all those favours we mounted up of the years.
The Final Saga Part 123: Nyarlathotep’s Requiem
By d_Galloway
Deep within the frozen confines of Hel, Mox sat on his skull throne, clutching his terrible flaming sword. All around him, whatever stray demons his minions had managed to pick up and bring to his domain were quickly being subdued and reassigned to their new purposes. Meanwhile, Nyarlatothep, the once mighty personification of mankind’s evil, was chained to the floor immediately in front of the Dark Demon, his occasional throes and squirms providing the former’s only entertainment in this entire accursed realm.
However, while Mox simply continued to remain perpetually bored out of his skull, Nyarl’s thoughts were focused on pure anger and hatred. First, Martinez manages to defeat him not once, but twice. THEN, when he believed he had been rescued by Naar, he had really been reduced to the errand boy of a far more powerful deity. NOW, he was stranded in the netherworld, tortured for laughs by a power-crazed sorcerer. In but a few years, he had gone from the world’s greatest threat to a failure of a being.
Mox’s ears suddenly perked up. “It’s begun.”
“What’s begun, you miserable mortal?!” screeched Nyarl.
The sorcerer waved a single dismissive finger at his prisoner. “Nah nah nah, no speaking out of turn, Theppy!” The gargoyle-thing gave only a strained growl in reply. “RPGC has finally mobilized itself into a formidable force. At this rate, they may actually win.”
“And now you’ll let them fight it out, sweep in, and kill them all when they’re barely able to stand up,” said Nyarl. “I’ve seen that a thousand times, Xian!”
“And they say I like imagination,” muttered Mox. “No, my simplistic hate-monger, I have a better plan. One that involves you, in fact.”
Naar’s forces stood poised at the swirling mass of Shadow Gates, patiently waiting for the stars to align just right. It wouldn’t be long before they could wander into the fields of RPGCity, destroying everything in sight, just like old times. Naar, for his part, was sitting in his tower, clutching his terrible black steel sword. Once his forces had gained a foothold, it would only take a few tweaks to get the rest of the castle into the RPGCVerse…
His thoughts were interrupted at the sight of his blade, still dulled from all its recent use. “Belladonna!” he shouted. “Bring me the oil!”
(More tomorrow. I just need to get the words “Naar” and “oil” out of my brain.)
I think you mean “lack imagination” Gallo (damn those typo gremlins! ) Otherwise, a cool setup so far. (Is that an intentional contrast between Mox and Naar? Hmm.) And I fear to think what’s going to happen to my character once Nyarl gets loose…
:eek:
Wil: Basically, the idea was to contrast the nature of evil amongst both Naar and Mox. Mox’s take on villainy is basically running over puppies with his car, then backing up and doing it again, and then running over the kid. And then burning their corpses. And peeing on them. Because he was bored. Naar does things because they serve a higher plan. If that puppy could potentially be a threat to him, he’ll run him over, but other than that, he simply advances his schemes in the background until he’s certain he’s required.
I know, my writing sucks so bad I can’t get this message across. But whatever. In any case, that scene was for laughs, and because I wanted to sneak in an “Orcus on his throne” joke for years, while also traumatizing anyone unfortunate enough to grasp the innuendo.
And as for Nyarl escaping…well…
Nyarl sneered to himself; he liked where this was going. “Ah…does this involve the death of that cur Martinez?”
Mox, back still turned to his nemesis, rolled his head slightly. “You…can say that. In fact, all your enemies will soon be but mere memories…”
“AH!” shouted Nyarl. “Tell me more! Tell me!”
The undead demon-mage let out a small sigh. “Impatient, aren’t you. All right, I’ll give you the whole scheme, but only if you agree in advance.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, you’ll be stuck here a whole lot longer.” He turned around on his heels, pulling out a small piece of paper from his coat pocket. Scrawled across the header were the words, “Contract,” followed by a long series of scratches in a long-dead Black Mage language, all leading to a single blank line. “If you want to be part of the deal, you’ve got to sign.”
Nyarl considered his position for a moment. On the one hand, he had no degree of trust for his mortal upstart of a captor. He couldn’t even fully understand the document; so unfamiliar were these non-human Black Mages to him that he had no inkling of their true nature. The base thoughts of revenge, however, quickly overtook his reasoning, and before his eyes, his name was scorched onto the line. Mox looked the paper over, nodded his approval, and put it away.
“All right, now that the…legalese is out of the way, let’s continue.” The mage clapped his hands, and a sudden rip in reality appeared next to him, a shimmering diamond-shaped hole in the very fabric of the universe. Within was a milky picture of the Soul Collective, still partially in ruins from their last battle. “I trust this place is familiar to you.”
“Of course! I depend on its existence!”
“Indeed you do. That is your one advantage over Naar; you can feed your power anywhere, not just in one isolated plane of existence.” He snapped his fingers, and the image shifted to Philemon’s last few moments. Nyarl sneered at his counterpart’s agony, enjoying the spectacle beyond belief. “Now that Philemon’s out of the picture, you should be free to feast upon the evil of all of humanity, completely unwatched.”
Nyarl smiled. Of course he would do so the minute he was free. With his powers greatly enhanced, he could crush anyone that opposed him with but a single wave. Even Martinez would be helpless, and with his obnoxious foe’s death, the mage would have no one to crawl back to. Hell, he could take on NAAR with this!
Mox snapped again, and the picture changed to a split screen; the right half showed the base camp for the forces of RPGC, while the left showcased Naar’s armies in the Plane of Darkness. “Tomorrow morning, the Shadow Gates connecting RPGC and the Plane of Darkness will open just enough to allow our former master to break through. His armies will descend like a locust swarm, while RPGC’s forces will hold out to the bitter end. I actually think they have a good chance, don’t you?”
“Possibly,” said Nyarl. “But in any case, what does this have to do with us?”
“If the situation grows desperate enough, Naar himself will enter the picture. When he does, so will the Kai Lords Lone Wolf and Galloway. Naturally, they will zero in on each other and start to duel. My plan is to interrupt and destroy all three fighters, thereby throwing both sides into disarray and leaving ample room to seize Naar’s throne.” He clapped his hands, and the rip suddenly healed itself, as if nothing had happened. “Any questions?”
“Yeah, I have one,” said Nyarl. “When do we start?”
The mage’s face twisted into a cruel smile, and for the first time in the conversation, Nyarlathotep suddenly felt a sense of horrible unease. “We begin right now. The first step is to open up the Soul Collective so that I may feast on its innards.”
“WH-WHAT?!” screeched Nyarl.
“Of course, if all goes well, this shouldn’t pose a-”
“YOU ARE A MORTAL! You cannot access the Soul Collective!”
Finally annoyed at his “guest,” the mage deftly raised his right hand. A cruel bolt of lightning suddenly leaped out and struck him across eye, practically gouging the cruel instrument from its socket. Now, for the first time in an eternity, Nyarl knew true fear. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you? I have survived thousands of years of pain and suffering, cursed with a suit of armor of my own design. I have been killed and resurrected, each time stronger than the last. I have endured torments that would baffle even one such as yourself. And now, I am going to take what is rightfully mine.”
“Martinez…curse him!”
Another bolt crossed Nyarl’s chin. “You whiny, impudent moron! Why blame Martinez for your own failures! You have had the entirety of your universe’s existence to plot and scheme, to enact terrible vengeance upon all that dared to oppose you. With the evil in humanity’s hearts, you could have even stood up to Philemon, crushed him, and then taken over the totality of existence! But you never took your chance, did you? Instead, you wasted your time with small schemes, none of which led ANYWHERE! And even then, you were defeated at every turn!”
“No…it’s not like that, you-”
A series of crackling beams suddenly enveloped the fallen god’s body, pinning him completely. He screamed as a million little agonies ran up and down his very being, like razors screeching across a man’s body. “Mortal, you were going to say? I may have been that way once, but I’ve changed. Even Naar has evolved over time. You haven’t. You cling to your little desperate vendetta, never realizing the whole time it was YOU that was the problem. Your plots were undone by your own short-sightedness. Nyarlatothep, the god of humanity’s evil, never understood the very mortals he professed to ruling.” A small cackle elected themselves from Mox’s lips. “I love irony.”
Nyarl managed to fight through the pain, exerting himself for what would be the last time. “Human hearts are filled with evil! Hate, malice, lust, greed…I swallow them all! I am the very essence of their being! And you…you are but a very clear example of this! Even Naar knew this. That was why he chose me as a general!”
“And why you’re writhing here now,” finished Mox. He increased the power, once again hurling Nyarl to the ground. “You and Philemon saw only what you were meant to see. Mortals such as humans are BOTH good and evil. That dissonance is what makes us so effective as minions; we have the true capacity for both. You gods are so…locked in your alignments that you cannot comprehend anything outside of your sphere of influence. I loved, I hated, I admired, I feared, and in the end, I became stronger. You could merely hate, and grew weaker as a result.”
Nyarl struggled, but to no avail. His strength was fading fast. “I will take your place. I will become a vassal for humanity’s evil. I have no doubt I cannot contain as much raw strength as you, but I will manage. You see, I haven’t quite extinguished that last sliver of good in me. I can feed off both energies at once, unlike yourself. With my power, I will destroy Naar, unseat him as the God of Evil, and bring about true corruption.”
The former god moved his mouth slightly. “What’s that about a last sliver, you ask? Why do you think I kept you alive for this long? I allowed you to lament, to figure out what went wrong. I even gave you a choice. But you signed the contract, you stated your intention to let me take your position, and in the end, I won. Like I always do.”
A sudden shaft of pure white energy emerged from Mox’s palm, spearing Nyarl’s black heart. Within seconds, the former champion of destruction had crumbled into dust, leaving only a slight stagnation in the air to mark his ever being there. At the same moment, Mox’s body was hoisted into the air, as clouds of black mist assaulted his every form. He screeched and bellowed in pain, but soon after, the same cocky smile returned.
When he finally landed, his entire being was glowing with black energy. His physique has expanded considerably, his arms and legs now thickly muscled in comparison to their previous slender appearance. His eyes were shimmering, even as the same mist continued to rise from every inch of his body. He finally spoke, his voice unnaturally scratchy and echoing.
“I am a God…I am a God!” He leaned back to the cavernous ceiling above, laughing madly all the while.
The entire heavens were suddenly shaken by a small tremor. “What happened?” shouted Tyr.
Suddenly, a red portal opened, revealing a fiery pit. The flames roared as a voice below bellowed. “The traitor Mox has slain Nyarlathotep. He has stolen his godhood!”
Mox continued his reverie, still laughing all the while. “Naar, Galloway, Weiila! Hear me! I am complete! I am ultimate! I am unstoppable! And it’s all thanks to you!” His laughs suddenly escalated in volume, until nearly all of Hel was shaking. “FOR THAT, I’LL GIVE YOU A SMALL GIFT! WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, <b>YOU’LL BE THE FIRST TO DIE!”</b>
THE END OF PART 123
Next time: Eye of the Tiger
Pretty good, d! I completely agree with your assessment of Nyarl. He was the embodiment of ALL evils- and that includes not only such things as hate or greed, but also such things as pettiness. His obsession with my character was due to that. Honestly, my character only beat him because he found himself in the right circumstances to do it; other heroes could have done it as well. But because he had been the first hero to REALLY beat him, as opposed to just foiling his plans, Nyarl became obsessed with revenge. He couldn’t help it, really. And it eventually led to his final destruction, now. Good stuff.
I still hate your sig though.
You’re never happy about my sigs, are you? There, it’s different. HAPPY?! No, of course you’re not!
Actually, I am. This one is actually funny. 
The Final Saga part 124: The Thrill of One Bite
By you should probably know this already
Morning came to the Black Mage village like it did anywhere else: like a hundred angry winged midgets lifting you via your sheet covers and tossed you forehead-first into your dresser, while the Easter Bunny did unspeakable things to your innards. For Galloway, this was coupled with a feeling of impending doom, as if the Sun God himself was cursing him for his disobediance, and if he didn’t watch his step, he would be fried up faster than a vampire out for a tan. As for everyone else…they were still asleep. Except for Tiger, who was simply shut down, which may count as sleep depending on your point of view.
As the young kai lord walked out of the small guest house, he was greeted by the unwavering gaze of Lone Wolf. The Supreme Kai Master’s arms were disapprovingly folded, his eyes narrowed in righteous anger. “Um…hello, master,” said Galloway.
“You overslept. We have hours of training to make up for.”
Galloway, for his part, was unfazed. “Come on, we can do this. What’s a lost hour or-”
Lone Wolf’s fist slammed into the saiyan’s nose with the speed of a F-1, smashing bone and cartiladge alike and sending the hapless victim hurling about three feet back. Even as Galloway was starting to pick himself up, cursing and bleeding all the while, Lone Wolf’s sword was at his throat, hovering so close the hairs on the back of his neck were sliced neatly in half. “Naar will not show you this much mercy, and neither will I,” said Lone Wolf. “We are not fooling around anymore. We are going to train from this moment to dusk. You will learn what few skills you still have time to gain. And when the day is done, you will return to RPGC and pray to Kai that Naar doesn’t crush you into a fine powder. ARE WE UNDERSTOOD?!”
(to be continued)
Sometimes I wonder if Galloway has got a masochistic streak, given how often he writes his character getting beat up…
:hahaha;
Still, nice as usual, d. 
The rest of the update will be coming next week.