"Oh Lord Kadmon, the day has come. The lands have been purified and even now, your faithful stand ready for the final step in your glorious plan."
Altria knelt before the altar of the grand cathedral of their lord, praying diligently for guidance. Arrayed behind her were her inner circle. Behind her were the men and women that she could trust to never falter in the face of the greatest evils.
Faithful followers and peerless warriors who would charge the very gates of heaven in Lord Kadmon's Holy Name.
"Lord Kadmon, lend us your wisdom. Ours is the path of glory and truth. Ours is the duty we bear without question. Yours is the Name we praise. Lord Kadmon, lend us your wisdom…"
Altria prayed for seven days and nights; her circle came and left as needed. Unlike in the beginning where Kadmon would answer all their prayers without delay, in this age of darkness and duty, their lord was forced into convalescence after the Cataclysm that forced the Hands upon this crusade.
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It was in the year 1239. The Hands of Kadmon were amongst the most honored and gloried knightly orders and faith militant.
Peace and prosperity was felt by all; from the highest lord to the lowest peasant, all were well fed, safe in their homes and shared the love and wealth imparted upon them to all.
The people of the world, for a short time, knew the meaning of unity.
But everything changed when the Lost and the Damned returned.
The Lost and the Damned; a name given to those ancient mages and sorcerers who tore the land of Parth asunder. Through greed and foolishness, they called upon forbidden magicks and gazed into the Abyss, seeking the answers to questions mortals were not meant to know.
And the Abyss did not merely look back; it surged forwards from its prison and loosed its demonic hordes upon the land.
And for a thousand years, the world had been in chaos. Humanity cowered in caves and the very skies roared with the fury of millennia.
Then the gods descended from the heavens.
Immortal beings of such power and majesty took to the field and slew the demonic hordes and their abyssal masters. Together, the Old Gods scoured the world and beat back the forces of the Abyss to the gates the fools of Parth created.
For a hundred years, the Old Gods enacted a lost ritual that sealed the borders of Parth; no demon or Abyssal One would leave, be it by land, sea or sky.
Thus, the gods returned to the heavens and the world was left to recover. Life returned to the world and humanity left the shadows of their caverns, feeling the sun upon their skin after a millenia of darkness.
But after many eras of peace, the ancient ones had risen and it fell not to the gods, but their servants to stem the tide. The knightly orders of the world banded together and pushed the hordes of demons and fel servants back to the lands of Parth.
The Hands of Kadmon called for a great crusade; one that would venture deep into the blighted lands and purge the darkness from the world, once and for all.
But none of their brethren answered their call. Again and again, they beseeched their allies. They called upon old oaths and bonds of blood and brotherhood.
None answered.
So it fell to the Hands to journey forth, alone into Parth.
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So, my throne is quite literally the most comfortable seat I've ever conceptualized. Its as if I'm on a cloud combined with memory foam that repairs itself constantly. I'm perfectly at ease on this seat…
Which makes it all the more horrifying.
I have no physical reason to leave this throne; it's perfect in all ways. Mentally-speaking, sitting here is the most agonizing pain that echoes from the core of My being. My greatest concentration of followers fought and resides in Parth, guided by Altria and the Hands of Kadmon. In the unblighted countries, My worshippers were rather sparse. Very few resided in the northern countries and a thousand or so resided in the south.
West and the Far East held little of My Faith; Rogal was more popular in the west and the Easterners had their own pantheon of gods to pray to. Missionaries sent there gained few worshippers even with blatant displays of power.
Even the greatest of displays can't shatter the in-born conceptions created by culture and nurture.
"Oh Lord Kadmon, the day has come. The lands have been purified and even now, your faithful stand ready for the final step in your glorious plan."
Ah, there's Altria...it's nearly time for the Apotheosis of Man. Once they destroyed the portal to the Abyss, the veil that separated this reality from the next would weaken enough that I could access the Blind Eternities.
Thus, I would be able to call upon the collective faith of all my possible alternates and surpass even the most ancient of deities upon this world; I would become the supreme God of Mankind and wipe out the dark ones that plagued my people.
And if the gods that would have joined me or even disagreed with my plans for Humanity were to die as well…
…
…
Sacrifices would be made for the Ascendency.
With a minor thought, I began drawing heavily upon the wellspring of faith. This veritable star of belief was so immense that I hesitated to say that there was a limit to the possibilities. Every paladin, knight and cleric within the lands of Parth received power that brought them near to Altria's own formidable abilities.
They became an army of heroes equal to anything those filthy heretics could call forth.
"Oh Lord, we have received You most gracious blessings. The Crusade will come to a close. The Portal will be destroyed, in You glorious Name…"
Amen, Altria. Go forth and shatter those bastards that forced me onto this throne and bound by the senseless limitations of this existence. Only then will the restrictions placed upon me by that bastard will vanish.
'You hear that, ROB? I'm gonna get free of this and when I do, my awesome battle-loli will shove a sword up your ass.'
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It was the year of 2016. The once-blighted lands of Parth were almost entirely purged of the abyssal energies and the stain of chaos. Lands cleansed by the Hands were bustling with life. Cities were repopulated and knightly orders, new and old, had joined the Crusade.
With the sorely needed reinforcements, the once desperate struggle became an overwhelming tide that even the Abyss itself could not stop.
"Forward! The portal is within sight! Let no daemon or filthy heretic stand in our way! For Kadmon! For the Apotheosis of Man!"
"Praise His Name!!!"
The Hands of Kadmon and the Sun Riders of New Parth lead the final charge into the very heart of the Blighted Lands of Parth. A combined force over seventy thousand knights, paladins, warriors, clerics and mages fought across brimstone and blackened sky, striking down every foul daemon the portal brought forth.
"Theos! Fel drakes coming from the east! Strike them down!"
Following her command, a large flock of of Sun Riders astride their giant Storm Eagles flew to intercept the daemons masquerading as drakes. The Riders hurled many spears of lightning and some had their eagles bodily tackle the fel drakes. The tumbling masses of feather and scale fell to the ground, each beast vying for dominance. In any other situation, a Storm Eagle would be utterly outclassed in such a fight. But with the aid of their rider and the blessings provided by the Lord of Man?
It wasn't even a challenge.
Altria cheered alongside her men as they joined the charge into the last city. The once-majestic Citadel of Algernon, capital of ancient Parth had been the greatest city in the world. A place where the greatest minds and most honorable of warriors would gather and pledge their lives for a future of peace and prosperity for all humanity.
And then came the sound of thunder.
"The eastern legions have arrived, Champion! They've brought their thunderarms! The Warlords of Mgunh and Storm Guard of Wob have punched through the gates! Their war machines are breaking past the stone giants!"
Altria turned to the east where a massive column of Volantian Legionnaires and Wob Storm Guards marched with perfect precision. The eastern lands were a place of innovation and the worshipping of wise gods of steel and fire. Great iron cities and artificial dragons of land and sky that spewed steam and fire were said to be found in the lands of Volantis and floating castles of Wob.
Altria did not know why the easterners had come, but she held a faint hope that it was the work of her lord. Thunder sounded once more and a rain of black orbs struck the mob of daemons spewing forth from…
'Where'd the dome housing the abyssal portal go?!' Altria was thrown from her place on the battlements of the ancient city when the portal shook and wavered. An enormous hand reached out and gripped the edges of the ruined dome.
"By Kadmon, what is that?!"
"A daemon! A greater daemon is coming through!"
"Abbiamo bisogno di un altro sbarramento sul portale! Dillo Erodoto che abbiamo bisogno di più sostegno!"
A strange light flew into the sky from the hands of a Volantian mage. It hung in the sky above the portal, emitting a harsh yellow light. Behind the eastern legion, seven of their steel dragons roared their thunderous chorus and more of those black orbs fell from the heavens. They struck the portal and whatever was emerging. The orbs shattered in an explosion of light and thunder, leaving the portal's structure greatly damaged.
But the daemon was unharmed. It pulled itself through the portal and stood fully.
Covered in the bones of strange beasts, gnashing teeth and burning with abyssal flames, it shrieked from a mask of of ivory in the shape of a fel bird. The ground below it churned and transformed. The stone melted and became like flesh. Great lashing tentacles erupted from the ground and crushed dozens of men with each swing. Warriors that charged forward were burned alive by its very presence and the clearing sky was eaten away by a darkness unlike any she'd ever seen.
"Champion, what are your orders?!"
Altria turned. Her men and those nearest to her were frightened; they looked to her, the immortal and undefeated champion of Kadmon, for guidance. Her answer was drowned out by the steel dragons of Volantis roaring again. Their black orbs did nothing but anger the daemon and it rushed to the eastern legion. Men, hundreds of them, died as it passed.
The legionnaires and storm guard did not retreat. They merely open fired with their thunderarms. The iron they spewed bounced off the ivory armor of the daemon and the easterners were slowly slaughtered.
"Champion, the men are all but ready to flee! The mages say the daemon will soon open more portals, larger than the one it came from. More of these dark beings will be upon us!"
Altria looked once again, trying to find something, anything that would work.
The Sun Riders hurled divine lightning from the heavens; their spears doing little to the daemon and their own numbers were dwindling from constant battle with thousands of fel drakes emerging from the great portal. The allied knights, new and old, were fighting desperate battles to contain with new waves of lesser daemons all but flying out from gashes in reality. Her own men, the Hands, were joining the easterners in keeping the great daemon busy to little effect.
'Lord Kadmon, what do I do?'
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I cursed, seeing the emergence of an Abyssal Herald. The bone-armored monstrosities were the vanguard of a full daemon invasion and could open a hundred great portals just by existing.
A weakened Herald caused Parth to fall in a day.
This one was at full strength and stood on equal standing to a lesser god. Even if I blessed Altria with as much power as she could handle, she wasn't powerful enough to take it down by herself.
"My lord, send us."
My attentions turned to my Custodes, lead by Gabriel and Jaune. It was my First Blade that spoke.
"My lord, send myself and my brothers to aid our people. We are dead and our etheric forms will be able to contain your divine energies equal to that of Blessed Altria herself. If she cannot defeat the daemon on her own, then let us, your faithful Blades lend her our strength."
I felt so stupid right now. How could I have forgotten that?! Gabriel, being capable of sensing my mood even when I suppressed the effects upon my Domain, caught wind of my inner thoughts.
"My lord, your wounds and the Crusade have dominated the thoughts of us all for millennia. We've only just considered this possibility this past decade; there was no need for this power before."
I acknowledged the words, though they did little soothe my guilt. Nevertheless, I began calling upon that specific ability and prepared my Custodes to do battle once more. The thousand brothers and sisters shined with my divine energies and as one, disappeared from my throne room.
'Altria, help is on its way.'
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Altria flew back, smashing into a wall. The daemon shrieked mockingly at the petite blonde
There was a faint twinge, so familiar that Altria gazed up to the heavens. Their lord was sending aid from on high and she wondered what was being sent.
The darkening shadows were pierced by a pillar of cleansing gold light. It slammed into the daemon portal, destroying it and the lesser daemons all over the battlefield utterly. Even the greater daemon shrieked in pain as the shockwaves echoed through the fallen city.
Her men cheered, praising Kadmon's Name. Similar cries came from all over the ruins, each one calling thanks to other deities.
"Foul Herald of the Abyss! Lord Kadmon calls for your destruction! And we, his Blades, will carry out His Will! For the Light! For Humanity!"
From the smoke of the impact area, hundreds of shining knights of gold and red charged. Altria felt tears falling from her face as she recognized each and every one of those men and women. The thousand Blades fought to bring the daemon down, herding the injured legionnaires and storm guards away. The halberdiers among them used the longer reach of their blades to harass the daemon into place while their greatsword wielders hacked away at the monster's ivory armor.
The Herald roared, grabbing one of the Custodes. It attempted to eat the women, only the halberd she wielded saved her life. She shoved the blade-spear vertically in the Herald's mouth; the beak was held open by the blessed weapon. The women then drew a short blade and leapt into the gullet of the beast.
A mere moment later, the tip of the shining blade peeked out of the beast's flesh, vanishing and reappearing one moment after the next. The Herald shrieked in pain, tearing away at its own body. It tried to reach for the women killing it from the inside out.
The Custodes cheered and began chopping away at the monster's legs; they were determined to fell it like a great tree under the blade of an axe. The Herald of the Abyss let out one final roar and fell to its back. The shining blade reappeared, cutting open the belly and out of the stomach, a grinning women covered in black gore clambered out. She was congratulated by her fellow Custodes.
And as this happened, all Altria could do was slump against the ruined battlements and gaze upon the golden figures in wonder. "My friends…" One of the shining figures appeared beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. The familiar weight brought more sobs as she whirled around and hugged the closest thing she had to a father in a thousand years. Ser Jaune the First smiled. Patting her back softly, he watched as the eternally-young champion wept into his chestplate.
"...-n't believe you're here. I-I'm so sorry…"
He rapped her head and chuckled at her.
"There was never anything to forgive. What father wouldn't sacrifice his life for his ever-adorable daught-hurk!" Jaune gasped, the blessed armor of a Custodes began groaning under the strength of the Champion's grasping arms. "A-Altria! Air! World fading! Going black!"
The arms merely squeezed more tightly.