[M] The Throne of Gods II: Divine Deception (IC)

[RedKayne]

This is Rated M for violence, blood, gore, language, nudity, sexual content, and contradiction of religious beliefs that might be considered blasphemy outside of creative context

This RP is now closed to new players.

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Prologue: Child of the Apocalypse

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In the distant past...

The baby lay sleeping in her arms. The night was calm, quiet, the scent of ripe fruit and exotic flowers drifting with the breeze. Fireflies blinked into and out of existence. Chirping insects filled the silence, a steady hum that soothed the soul.

But not this soul. A mother grieving for her child will not be comforted.

She remembered when she had first realized the pregnancy, and the terrible treachery that had resulted in it. Her shock, her fury, her despair had been too great for words. She had hated the father, hated more than she thought anyone had ever hated before.

But she could not hate the child.

The baby crooned in his sleep. His mother caressed his face, gently, affectionately. He squirmed closer to her breast and fell blissfully silent. The same finger that had stroked his cheek wiped the tear streaking down her face.

She remembered seeking aid and wisdom from Luthious, one whom she regarded with greater respect than even her own faction's Monarch. She had confessed to him what she had learned of the child's destiny, hand already laying protectively over her growing belly. With immense sorrow and sympathy in his eyes, the Lord of Order had told her what she must do for the good of all.

A wolf howled nearby, his song soon joined by others. It had always brought her comfort, a lullaby to soothe her to sleep. Now it only chilled her blood. The baby did not stir, as if he shared in the love she had once had for the sound, lulling him ever deeper into the world of dreams. His mother's steps were automatic, roaming deeper into the blessed Garden.

She remembered the emotional agony of the pregnancy, loving the babe who had come into existence through malicious means, through betrayal and cruelty. She had never considered herself the motherly type, had never possessed even a fraction of a thought of ever having children. Yet, upon feeling the first movement in her belly, the first kick, she had known that there was nothing she could possibly want more than this beautiful child.

And he was beautiful. She reached a clearing and stopped. The tears flowed freely as she gazed at her son, clothed in innocence. Every inch of his tiny body was etched into her memory, never to fade. The wolves sounded again, this time closer. A tremble shook her.

She remembered giving birth. The pregnancy was shorter than that of mortals, but no less painful. She had been alone, no aid to be had, nor accepted. None but the father and Luthious knew of the pregnancy at all. It was better that way.

She remembered the first cry, the feeling of elation at seeing his squealing face, quickly subdued by the horrible dread of what was to come. For two days she wept as she tended to him. She had not known if she had the strength to do what needed to be done.

But he was Damian, God of the Apocalypse, and without her strength, all would fall to death and ruin.

Weeping, Jaslyn set the baby gently on the grass. He slept on, undisturbed. Ahead lay the wolves' den. She would have prayed that his death would be quick and painless, but who does a god pray to? The shaking was uncontrollable, her whimpers unable to be held behind her quivering lips. Nearly blinded by tears, Jaslyn turned her back on her newborn child.

And so it was that Damian, death incarnate for man and god alike, the end of heaven and earth, was left to be devoured by the wolves, and his mother's heart was forever shattered.

...

.......

The howls of the wolves suddenly stopped, and to the departing goddess - it may be due that the beasts finally fell upon the child that was laid in front of their den. However, that was actually untrue.

The wolves at first stepped outside of their den, drool dripping from their hungry mauls. But then, their attention was quickly drawn by the sound of another footstep - and their heads jerk towards the source of the noise.

A tall, dark figure appeared from the woods - striding directly towards them and the baby. Immediately, the wolves quietly whimpered from the presence of the dark figure, and quickly retreated back into their den. Whoever was the dark figure, the wolves of Averas could sense its powerful presence and can only cower before it.

The dark figure soon reached the sleeping infant, bending down and picking up the small being. The figure cradled the young Damian within its arms, before a small - yet wicked smile - appeared upon its lips.

"I know exactly what to do with you... little Damian."

The figure soon turned away, walking away and carrying the child of the Apocalypse within its arms. The two of them disappeared into the night, hiding amongst the shadows... until the time will come when both shall enact their goals.

---

In the present time.

The years have passed, and the celestials realms have forever changed with the death of its beloved Godking - Suriyel. The Fall of the Gods stripped away the powers of many deities, including the Monarchs themselves.

Some of them have returned, and thus regained their full godly power.

But that doesn't change a thing...

Damian, fully grown into a young man, stood upon a cliff-side overlooking a quiet sea. The sun was rising, marking a new day as its rays barely lingered upon the God of the Apocalypse.

Shadows wrapped around Damian's naked form, covering the lower half of his body. His cold gray eyes watched the sun carefully, as if carefully assessing the bright object.

"You know... I wanted to see her... one last time," Damian stated aloud, a small scowl appearing across his chiseled face. "I wanted to see my mother one last time, before her untimely death," he stated, referring to Jaslyn's death at the hands of one of the demigods - during the epic battle at New York City. Apparently, Damian became aware of the events, soon after causing the death of his own father, Baldramort.

"I wanted to see her one last time... just to let her know how much I hated her," he growled, his words immediately turned into venom as his dark eyes filled with anger. Even the shadows wrapped around him began to whirl a bit more aggressively... violently.

"How could a mother commit such a horrid act," he questioned, one that he actually questioned countless times throughout his entire life. "How could a mother abandon a child... a child to his death?" Whoever raised Damian, has also informed the young deity's tragic beginning... and how he narrowly escaped his own death by the mauls of the wolves.

"I just wanted to see her... I just want to look her right in the eye... and let her know how much I hate her... before shortly killing her. But now... with her death... she will never know that the child she abandoned is actually alive. She will never feel that pain..." Damian shook his head, before taking a step back. "Unfortunate," he simply stated.

There was a sound of a few ruffled footsteps behind him, taking a few steps forward. Apparently, someone stood behind Damian the entire time and listened to him - listened to the boy's anger to the world before him. That anger would serve him well, if they intend to finish out their goals.

"Your mother, Damian, may have been taken much sooner than expected... but the painful death she received is nothing short of what she deserved," the voice called out to him. "Use that frustration... use that anger and hatred... to inflict the suffering of those that deserve it. We still have to continue forth with our plan..."

Damian listened attentively, nodding his head in agreement. "That's right," he said before turning around to face his companion - his savior. He formed a small smile, "The Apocalypse has only just begun, we still need to reach that damn Throne."

His smile only widened, "Well, let's get a move on then, shall we?

---

Chapter 2: Divine Deception

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The majestic view of Metropolis was certainly a dazzling sight. The darkness of the night already covered the realm of Mechanus, yet the lights of the city lit up the entire area. It was like a shining beacon in the darkness, sending a signal to the other realms of its own personal glory.

Before the Fall, countless hovercrafts would fly by and encircle around the tall buildings, before charging off towards their destination. Entities of all kinds would wander in the streets below, bustling to get on with their duties, and others enjoying the luxurious lifestyle. A large crescent moon rose up into the sky, along with the countless stars of the multiverse.

Now, the entire city was mostly vacant… quiet, except for the rustling sounds of robotic sentinels and homunculi patrolling the streets. Many of the celestials were still stranded in the mortal realm of Earth, and only a few have managed to return back. Those that did – have to fight tooth and nail before finding themselves in a realm like Mechanus. At the center of the city, stood the tall skyscraper known as the Tower of Enlightment. There, the Duke's own throne room resided, where he would normally over-watch the multiple ongoing activities of his beloved city.

It was all quiet… and peaceful.

But that peace was soon about to be disturbed… due to the impending siege of the Titans.

The Titans – a large group of gigantic mechanical beings, were a reckoning force that intended to take over the city of Metropolis and rule over the realm with an iron fist. The origins of the Titans were mostly unknown, except for a few minor rumors that these gigantic beings were Harku's first experiments – and his first failures. When the Gods fell from the realm, this left a major opening for the Titans to make their first move after many millennial – and their ambitions include slaughtering all deities across their path.

Zypher, the God of Purification, stood on top of a large wall that surrounded the city of Metropolis like a fortress. The young deity stared down at the plains below, and his eyes slightly narrowed the large army of robotic creatures heading directly towards their way. Standing beside Zypher, were two other deities whom Zypher recently became acquainted with – Argyros, the God of Industry; and Sef, the easygoing and lighthearted God of Cooking.

Several other deities were stationed across the wall, preparing themselves for the upcoming massive battle. Zypher was placed in charge of everyone, since Harku is actually at the realm of Averas right now. The Duke was supposedly working on finding a cure for his comatose sister, Selrina, and a few days after he left Mechanus – the Titans appeared. It was terrible timing, but Zypher took the responsibility, along with everyone else, to formulate several battle plans.

Nameless, Neurus, Bastion, and Rashana were stationed at the front gate – prepared to defend against the frontal assault of the siege along with several other homunculi. At the back gate – Lanaei, Nirvana, and Anaya were ready to take on any secondary/sneak assaults by the Titans.

Zypher himself, and his two other companions, were prepared to defend against aerial assaults. The young deity clenched his fists, feeling a heavy burden of stress upon his soldiers. Another battle was approaching, and that meant the strong possibility of casualties.

Everybody from Zypher's original group, back when he Fell upon Earth, are either dead or missing. Lucielle and Jaslyn were killed during the battles against the demigods, lead by the diabolic Colonel Hawkins. When Zypher traveled to Mechanus, his group found Harku at Metropolis – and they even discovered a few more deities during their brief travel to Averas. However, they were quickly thrust into several battles with the Titans, and the likes of Kai, Caes, and Danero have been killed during this ongoing war. Spero, a mysterious close friend of Zypher's, simply vanished one night without a trace. Zypher was definitely concerned over her whereabouts, but he simply could do nothing about the matter.

Yet, even with all of these casualties, more and more celestials have managed to find a way to return to the celestial realms, bolstering the forces here in Mechanus. Not only that, but they have been able to destroy several Titans at this point - and perhaps this war may soon reach its ending point with the celestials victorious.

Now, the rag-tag group of celestials made another stand against the Titans and their robotic army, fully ready to take on the monstrosities.

[TheDoctor]

“Damn Carcari, and damn the whelps that inhabit it.”

With another casual wave of the crimson-haired god’s hand, spears of featureless black exploded from the ground and impaled the squadron of demons that approached him. His black leather jacket, now well worn and dirtied, rustled as the bodies fell in a heap on the broken cobble street of the Black City, the tail of his blood-stained white-collared shirt flaring. It was the stuff of nightmares; bodies wrapped in sheets hanging from crossbars, chasms opened in the earth to an endless abyss, screams of mortals and immortals alike from the slender, decrepit buildings along both sides. Even the most formidable of gods shivered when the freezing musty air of Carcari crept across their skins.

But not Vantas. Carcari was a world known well to him, but he found it repulsive. Not frightening, not grotesque, but pathetic.

Legions of daemons poured down the shattered pathway lined by sobbing statues and windowless obelisks, monsters of various size and shape but each disturbing nonetheless. Many of them were at least partially humanoid, hybrids with claws, tails, or toothy maws, but they weren’t limited to bipedal structures. Tall spidery creatures with orange chitin armor and many sets of mandibles and pincers on their underbellies stomped over other demons to reach their prey, and brutish four-legged grey boars charged relentlessly. Despite the fresh coat of black daemon ichor from previous victims, they trampled over the splattered limbs and innards with no concern. The Void God's black-filled eyes lowered upon them and narrowed, unamused and lacking any excitement from the slaughter. There was a time when he derived immense pleasure and delight from the mass murder before him, when the residents of Carcari were both his allies and his toys.

That was before the Fall. That was before Baldramort’s task, before Iravelle. That was before the death of Cruor.

That was before he appeared.

Helplessness was not a feeling that Vantas was used to, but in the moment before Damian's arrival against the Prince of Darkness, he knew it as if it had been present for his entire existence. By the Void, he was simply impotent against the tides of gods more powerful than even he, and it seemed to subtract his very purpose in the multiverse. Ever since their deplorable victory, Vantas withdrew from his companions, seeking both answers and, over anything, vengeance for his pathetic defeat. What gave them such power over him? What could possibly surpass the Void?

With another flick of his wrist, a blade of nothingness emerged before him and sliced one of the boar creatures vertically in half, its remnants sliding ten feet away to a slimy stop. These fodder were hardly an issue despite their overwhelming numbers, but their beastly persistence was quite irritating. Vantas knew that if Carcari’s inhabitants were only these whelps then he would have no trouble overthrowing it. But he had walked across the abysmal planes long enough, and there were a great many more powerful beings than even he.

The Hell Knights were a prime example of such.

When Vantas, Jonas, and Kavi had entered the portal to Carcari by way of Baldramort’s corpse, they were shortly greeted by the three entities. After introducing themselves, the Hell Knights immediately attacked, claiming that it was “their time.” He remembered their names clearly; Ramos, Sin, Kamstormer, names that demanded the Void god’s precious attention. Perhaps alone they were manageable, and Vantas knew that they were still weak from their battle with Baldramort, but in that brief moment the Hell Knights were unstoppable. Within minutes, the three gods had been forced to retreat. Vantas didn’t know how long had passed since then, but with their godly essences finally returned to them, he knew they couldn’t hide from them for long.

He was sick of being hunted anyway. It was time to become the hunter.

Vantas’s blackened eyes rose, his brow rising as a stronger entity flared its aura with a roar. The scythed headless wraith was cloaked in darkness and fire, two torches sprouting from the harness on its back that seemed to stab into its decrepit flesh. It stretched well over twelve feet high with chains across its torso, which connected to two skulls with flaming eye sockets that drifted around it. It spoke with the sound of billowing winds in a whisper louder than the gargling daemons.

“Drag their celestial corpses to the depths! Let the Forgotten gnaw on their bones.”

So that one’s in charge, then.

With a humph, Vantas side-eyed Jonas, his dark gaze speaking of boredom. “Don’t kill that one, boy. The daemons are yours. Try not to get killed.” He waved his hand again, and a wave of darkness flattened one of the spider demons against the wall in a sickening crunch. “I’m getting some answers.”

He started walking calmly towards the daemon horde, his eyes pouring with black mists. “Kavi! We’re taking the big one.” A phantom circle of darkness surrounded his feet as he shouted over his shoulder. "I’m gonna make him talk."

---

Standing on top of one of the tall, black buildings of Carcari - were group of shadowy figures staring down at the mass of Daemons gathering and the celestials they were fighting. The deities - Vantas, Kavi, and Jonas - made a great stand against the grotesque creatures. They slaughtered countless numbers of them, but they were simply arriving in great multitudes.

Azazel, standing near the front of the pack of shadowy figures, took a step forward to take a closer look. The Corrupted god predicted that they three deities below them, could stand on their own for quite awhile. However, with the arrival of the wraith, Azazel wasn't so sure anymore. Especially if it was one of the three infamous Hell Knights of Carcari.

His eyes narrowed at the wraith, recalling the words of Erebus and his warning about the Hell Knights. Three creatures of immense power... personally working for the mysterious Daemon Lord - who now ruled the Black City ever since the Fall. With the absence of Baldramort, the Daemons made their move and took the city for their own, but now the celestials have returned - and some indend to take it back.

Azazel glanced back at the group behind him - the cautious Lucifer, the God of Deceit; they silent Xist, the God of Will; the passionate Firefly, the God of Fire; and the mysterious Requiem; the Goddess of Death herself. All of these beings were recruited by the enigmatic Diz, for one reason or another, and had their respective reasoning to work for him. Such as Lucifer, who reluctantly joined Diz's cause in order to obtain information on the whereabouts of his beloved Aurora. Everybody else, Azazel never bothered questioning - for all he knew, they were willing volunteers for his new order cause, reluctant soldiers that only had a temporary alliance with him, or even threatened and coerced to work for the God of Ruin.

Regardless, now was not the time speak to one another and get to know each other. They had a mission, given by Erebus, the God of Terror - their liaison for Diz. They were to find the three celestials wrecking havoc for the Daemons in the Black City, and possibly rescue them if need be.

Azazel's gaze then fell upon the redhaired goddess, known as Kavi. He formed a slight scowl upon seeing her, Damn it, Erebus. You could have told me that one of those deities was her. He let out an exasperated sigh, probably confusing those behind him. He turned his head to them, before giving a brief nod - "Alright, we found them." He then formed a small, devious smile. "Let's get down to business," he stated, before drawing the small sickle strapped to his waist. It was time for battle.

He and the rest of the deities jumped down to the street below, jumping right into the fray of combat to aid their fellow celestials, and take down these blasted Daemons.

[Salroka]

Previously on Throne of the Gods

The Fall. A dark time for the multitudes of deities who loves in the realms beyond Earth. With the seat of power disrupted and all the gods forced into the mortal realms as shadows of what they were before, many were unable to adapt or find a safe haven. Others sought conflict willingly and were ultimately consumed by it. Regardless of how one finds it, the result of such conflicts for these unfortunate gods was death. Death for a god meant one thing and only one thing... the terrifying prospect of Pandemonium. This is the tale of a group of unlucky gods whose lives were taken during the fall.

Some time after the fall...

Dead. Cruor was dead. He'd been slain in combat against a Monarch. But if that was the case, why was he still... alive? No. Alive wasn't the right word. But then again, neither was dead. He and this new group he'd come across were between life and death. That was the nature of this realm, after all... a chance to return to life. "Yeah, fat chance of that shit." thought Cruor as the group trudged along through one of the few ruined towns that dotted the realm. It was definitely a place that felt like a dead realm... with ruined buildings, barren landscapes, and the shrieks of the Tormented... it was easy to see why no gods had come back from this place just by the atmosphere and feel of the place.

During their time together in Pandemonium, the gods had all gotten to know each other to a degree. Cruor was the young God of Bloodshed, Jaslyn the Goddess of Indulgence, Hyperion the eccentric God of the Stars, Atrophos the God of Decay, Ayano the Goddess of the Moon, Maiara the Goddess of Literature, Meira the Goddess of Day, Shemesh the God of the Sun, and Lillith the Goddess of Malevolence. A ragtag group, to say the least. What landed each in Pandemonium was ultimately the same, but Cruor hadn't bothered to ask how each had died. It didn't matter anyway. What mattered was making it to the tower that seemed to reach all the way to the blood-moon. Everyone agreed that it was the most obvious place to seek answers, if nothing else.

More shrieking off in the distance. More Tormented writhing in agony as the realm ate away at their forms slowly but surely. Cruor had been oddly quiet lately, considering the prospects for himself and this new group should they fail to reach the tower and get answers. They would eventually become Tormented as well. They would wander this desolate place until their essences withered into nothing. Taking a seat and leaning against a dilapidated building, Cruor spoke up for the first time in days.

"So what the fuck are we even doing beyond 'Oh let's go to that there spooky tower, gang!' and hoping for the best?" The word 'fuck' was accentuated by Cruor's fist slamming into the wall behind him, then the sound of splintering boards. Granted, he hadn't put forward any other ideas... but he was very uncomfortable with the thought of being dead. Honestly, he wasn't even really leading the group despite his endurance and difficulty to kill. Still, he wasn't wrong in thinking they should develop a more solid game plan. They'd been walking for several days at this point and done little else, so maybe discussing things was for the best.

Meanwhile, in the realm of Mechanus...

Sef had went to Mechanus to get answers, and ended up involved in a battle against creatures known as Titans. He didn't exactly WANT to fight, but he couldn't just sit by and let the things slaughter the homunculi and his fellow deities. Having been stationed as a front-line defender to keep airborne targets at bay, Sef was at least happy he could keep others safe from the attackers they could not handle themselves.. Really, he WAS more suited to front-line combat than many other gods... but he hated the fact they had to fight. Were it up to Sef, they would all sit down over a delicious meal and discuss things. If it fell to fighting AFTER that, then he would be all too willing to engage in combat.

"Hey, Z. Don't suppose there's a way we can convince these things to negotiate over dinner, is there?" said Sef with a chuckle as he prepared himself for the inevitable. Shame that it had to come to blows, honestly. Still, he couldn't really just back out and let everyone down. If he did that, how many more people would die and miss out on the incredible victory feast that he would no doubt prepare? Oh well... for the time being he would just take out every airborne enemy he could.

Zypher gave a small chuckle, slightly shaking his head towards the lighthearted Sef. "I doubt these minions of the Titans would like to have a sit-down dinner with us." He stated, managing to form a reluctant smile despite the dire circumstances. The majority of the robots heading towards Metropolis were simply minions of the Titans, artificial intelligences that were created by even greater artificial intelligence. He could already see the Vanguards approaching the front gate, robotic power-houses that specialized in close-arm combat. Then there were the Slayers, agile and deadly A.I.s that were already routing around towards the back gate. Finally, there were the Wasps, flying robots - armed with futuristic assault rifles - and heading directly towards Zypher and company.

"Best get ready." Zypher stated, already forming a small golden fireball in his right hand. Sef nodded and cracked his knuckles. In under a minute, the hordes would be upon them. If any of the gods failed in their task this day, then chances are they would all be overwhelmed. Sef was determined to not let that happen. He may not have been a 'warrior', so to speak... but he was not a pushover and he would not let his allies down so long as he still drew breath. His only hope was that the others would perform favorably against their foes and keep the heat off of him as much as he would keep it off of them.

[Iwazuma]

Even as he eyed the horde before him, Jonas let a thin smile come to his lips as Vantas gave him an order. "Can it old man...you can't tell me what to do." He spoke in jest, of course; Jonas and Vantas, despite their differences, had made quite the formidable pair deep in the hellscape of Carcari. Jonas, prior to the deception from its ex-ruler, Baldramort, had never visited the city before, despite three-fourths of his family technically supposed to live here. But Belladonna had become a wanderer after he was born, Petos was...well, who the fuck knew where he was, and Cruor....

Jonas gulped and bit his lip to stop himself from tearing up. He'd call me a pussy if I cried. Well, I'm not going to let him ever have that opportunity. In the time since they had arrived here, after being chased by the Hell Knights, Jonas had fallen quite silent for much of his time with the other gods, Vantas and Kavi. Though the three stuck by each other for necessity's sake, a sort of unspoken bond had formed between the three; each could depend on the other when they needed it most. Then again, the death of your group's comedy backup could do that to you.

But it had been more for the young god. For Jonas, Cruor's death had been a turning point. Turning to WHAT, he was not certain. But gone were the psychotic, frenzied movements, the maniacal giggles, the unpredictability of his character. No, Jonas had settled down, become more somber and stoic, as he contemplated just who he was, who he wanted to be. Was killing Cruor...was it truly his fault? Could he ever forgive himself? He just didn't know. Even as he ran, he thought nonstop. That, of course, didn't stop him from unsheathing Exterri whenever things got hairy. Like now.

"I'd worry about yourself if you're fighting THAT. I'll do cleanup and help out in a minute." Jonas ignored the wraith and all its fury, instead focusing on its minions. In the eternal darkness of Carcari, this entire world was Jonas's playground, and he knew he could abuse it to his will. He took a step forward, and shadowy hands rose out of the ground, powerfully gripping three demon boars by the throats. He calmly stepped forward, decapitating each in turn with a single, silent strike. Their heads rolled off their bodies, ethereal blood spewing from their neck stumps as countless more of their mates snarled, growled, and screeched their impotent rage at the killer before them.

This had come as a bit of a surprise to Jonas. Whenever he found the cacophony of thoughts in his head too much to bear, when he thought he was going to explode, the mindless slaughter of a demon was...surprisingly cathartic and enjoyable. Perhaps the Maldor in him was just finally coming to the surface after all. Maybe this is why Cruor was always so happy and carefree? He didn't know. But when Exterri bathed in the blood of its enemies, he felt his mind empty, and nothing but pure enjoyment and excitement rush through him. During their trip through Carcari, he had had many opportunities to destress. This was just one with a boss enemy.

"Well then, come at me. The night welcomes you all." Jonas's smile grew as the horde approached him. This was going to be fun.

[Derpnaster]

Nirvana was struggling, ever since Masecha died she had a hole in her hear that just would not close. And now on top of that the closest thing she had to a mother figure lay in a comma unable to act, or even speak. It stressed her out to no end and was only made worse by the rather sudden appearance of new gods whom claimed they were friends, for the most part. Nirvana didn't trust them at all, not yet anyway. Still, they were better than crumbling in a corner somewhere and crying. That would do nothing, fix nothing.

Glancing around Nirvana swallowed her nerves and drew her sole weapon. A little battered now but in good condition for what it has seen, the small weapon felt heavy now, perhaps it was the stress getting to her. A magazine slid into the grip and a shaking hand pulled the heavy steel slide back.
For a moment Nirvana's mind flashed to a distant past, a cold wet night spent in a muddy trench comforting soldiers both living and dying, whispering silently words of peace and calm. Yes clam, Nirvana snapped back to the present only to realize she was breathing slowly and deeply, her hands squeezed the grip of her little gun and pointed it toward the ground, though her finger was not on the trigger yet Nirvana had already had a few close calls by making the mistake of pointing a loaded weapon where it didn't need to be.
"Why must it always come to battle, can't we just live in peace anymore?"
Nirvana wondered aloud, she already knew the more violent and battle hungry gods would disdain such an existence, but to Nirvana, that was all she really had left to live for. Peace, and hope for recovery.

---

Ayano shot Cruor a look when he slammed the building.
"Will you please not destroy or damage every town we come across? What if we have to sleep here?"
Ayano was however, not at ground level, rather she was on top of roofs, fences,
places where she could see the farthest. Ayano had no apparent reason to be in such unusual places, and always she seemed more to float or glide up than climb, not that she could float or glide to begin with. However Ayano had her reasons, for one because it was hard to get such places Ayano could for a short time take a break from the others, and still be high enough up to spot the group and return before they got too far away, for another someone had to keep watch, who better than the girl who had been watching for most of her godly life.

After some time Ayano pulled out one of her Manga volumes, then she joined the rest on the ground so she could with more safety read those glorious human made stories. Perhaps that was one reason she hadn't started to dislike everyone,, she had plenty of distractions if need be, and distractions were important in small groups, the more you spend time with them, the more likely you want to kill them, or you learn to love them.

[.Karma.]

"Let's get to that spooky tower gang, and..." Lillith smirked a little looking at the decaying building around her. She could certainly see why the dead came here. Everything emanated with decay including the structures. "...and get the fuck out?"

Her dark blue eyes shot to Cruor as he bashed his fist against the wall. She could feel his anger, and really felt no reason to put his mind at ease about it. What else were they supposed to do? There were no other ideas, they had kind of just threw themselves at the one idea that seemed to make sense. If it didn't work, then they could try and figure something else, but for now... this seemed to be it.

Lillith's death had been less than glorious. Murdered at the hands of a man who believed her a sinner, he was not wrong. She surely felt stupid though.

Another voice was heard, and her eyes moved upwards, trying to avoid rolling them after Ayano spoke. "Yes, Cruor, do not damage the collapsing buildings." Lillith's voice again dripped with sarcasm.

Shaking her head, she looked over their ragtag group. Why was Cruor sitting? They would never get to the tower if they just sat and punched things. "Sitting and pouting definitely isn't going to get us there." Cruor hadn't spoken in days and now he wanted to be pissy? Fuck that.

Lillith considered just continuing on without him, but honestly she had no idea what to do when she got there. It was best to have more minds and bodies than less. So, she was forced to sit here and wait and be annoyed. Annoyed by what though? Cruors irritation? The petty things people were getting upset about? Or annoyance that she was dead?

It was probably the latter of the three, but she would take it out on whoever she saw fit, it didn't bother her any.

[Bionicllama]

Mechanus was truly a strange place. In its time the realm boasted flying cars, androids, and everything you could imagine from a science fiction movie and more. It used to overwhelm Bastion with its great wealth of people and technology, but now it lay as barren as the arctic with the exception of a few homonculi moving around and his fellow gods standing on the walls. Before he may have enjoyed the peace that the quiet brought, but now it only sounded like dread. The Fall has been hard on everyone and it seemed that Mechanus, in all of its technological glory, was not spared. And now he looked forward from the wall, he saw the beings that would try and prey on their apparent weakness. It made him sick to be reminded that such things existed.

The warrior assessed their numbers from where he was. They had amassed a good sized army, one that even he would have trouble taking on alone. This made him glad to have the deities around him willing to protect what was still here, this reluctant coalition of gods was all that stood in the way of the Titans and the destruction of Mechanus. Most other gods would think this a lost cause, but Bastion was either too confident or too ignorant to come to that conclusion. In the end, what's the difference?

He unsheathed his weapon, Malfice, and willed it into a large spear. His shield, El Cid, was also willed into a knight's kite shield. The promise of battle started to thrill him to his core. It was been too long in his mind since he has been able to wield his weapons. Now, with them back in hand, it felt right, as if he had recovered a lost part of himself or reunited with an old friend.

"Come, friends, today we fight for peace, glory, and this magnificent city! Let's destroy some fucking tin cans!" He let out a hearty laugh and banged his spear against his shield. He was ready for a fight and welcomed the incoming enemies, looking forward to the battle to come.

[Juder]

Rashana cringed at Bastion's crude language. She did realize that they were in the middle of a huge battle, but...oh well.

Looking at her surroundings, she couldn't help but miss the peace and quiet of her mountains in Elysium. Everything was just so beautiful and majestic there. It was also very serene: mostly it was just her and the splendor of her creations. Every once and a while her mentor, Luthios—the only other immortal she felt comfortable around—would come visit her. God, how she missed him too! Luthios had been like a father to her. He had taught her many things about herself and her abilities, and had comforted her through the loss of her dear friend, Amod. Amod...

She quickly put a stop to the train of thought; it would only bring her to tears, and that would distract her from the task at hand. As much as she hated conflict, she couldn't allow these wretched titans to destroy the lives of the people who called this place home. She turned back to her easel and proceeded to work on her painting, despite odd looks from the other gods sharing her station.

She understood. Who, after all, would pull out a paint brush in the middle of a battle? That was just how it was. Her abilities had never been suited for combat. Instead, they were intended to create beauty and inspire wonder in the people around her. Whatever. She would do her best.

As soon as she put the finishing strokes on her work a large wall formed over the head of Nameless and blocked a Vanguard's fiery sword. The image on the canvas faded as soon as its purpose had been realized, and Rashana swiftly worked to paint something else. She eventually made a small but sturdy sword that would allow her to defend herself. Not that she knew a lot about swords or weapons of any kind.

She looked around nervously as a group of vanguards made their way towards the front gates. They'd gotten closer, and while she was fast, she certainly wasn't that fast.

"Batch of cookies," she muttered under her breath. "Someone back me up!"

As soon as she uttered the sentence she rushed one of the ugly creatures and stabbed its robotic eye.

Here goes nothing.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Previously On Throne of Gods...

Originally posted by RedKayne

Darkness...

Oblivion...

There were no thoughts, no sounds, and no images. There was no past, no present, and no future. There was only the embrace of nothingness.

Yet, even that proved temporary.

Sounds of thunder and lightning caused Jaslyn’s eyes to snap open. There was a loud gasp, as she tried to regain her breath. Her lungs filled up with air, and Jaslyn's heart pounded against her chest. Coldness struck her body, and she looked down and noticed that she wore no clothing.

Her body shivered as she picked herself up, nearly falling a couple of times as if she completely forgot how to use her motor skills. Finally, she stood up on the ground, which appeared to be a gray mud-like substance. Jaslyn’s arms wrapped around her exposed body, in a feeble attempt to keep herself warm.

Her crimson-red hair was dirtied by the gray mud, which slowly dripped from her hair strands and back on to the ground. She continued shivering, before looking up and examining her surroundings. There was a dark red moon high above the dark sky, and the world itself appeared to be a barren wasteland except for a few empty villages at a distance. However, the one thing that caught Jaslyn’s eyes was a tall tower. It appeared to be hundreds of miles away, but the tower itself reached towards the sky, and black clouds surrounded the upper portions and masked the top.

Welcome to Pandemonium.

A dark voice whispered into her ear, causing Jaslyn to jump. She quickly looked around, searching for the source of the voice, but there was no one else nearby. The voice itself chilled her very bones, it basically breathed malevolent intentions. The voice itself was somewhat familiar, and Jaslyn hoped against hope that it was purely her imagination.

She gulped, feeling fear creep up into her core for the first time in a long time. The last thing she remembered was her battle against Ember, and the sting of death as the inferno consumed her. Now, she stood in the middle of a gray plain beneath a mysterious sky. She had no clue where she was, and the atmosphere of this world terrified her.

“Where... where in Suriyel’s name am I?”

Present Day

Jaslyn was plagued by nightmares. She had expected death to be a release, an end to her suffering, yet now Baldramort proved even more harrowing in death than he had in life. Whenever she closed her eyes and let slumber take her, she saw him. He taunted her, tormented her, harried her like a dog nipping at cattle. Images of her infant son being devoured woke her, drenched in sweat and trembling.

The mournful wails of the Tormented hardly bothered her anymore. She thought their fate might be kinder than her own.

She wondered if this was where Damian had ended up after his death. She wondered if he had become one of the Tormented. The distant shrieking suddenly sounded akin to a crying babe in her ears, and she shivered.

Just like that, the wailing bothered her again.

Jaslyn was pulled from her reverie by Cruor's sudden outburst. Of those present, ironically, he was the one she knew best, and that was not saying much. Several of her new companions hailed from her own faction of Balance, but she had kept mostly to herself in Eden, shunning the company that she had, oddly, begun to crave, if only to draw her mind away from her own troubles. The God of Bloodshed's current demeanor was a far cry from when she had last saw him, leaping naked and jaunty from an airplane back on earth. He had made a suggestive remark while dangling free, and she had flipped him the bird.

He was strangely endearing.

Jaslyn ignored Ayano's indignation and opened her mouth to speak, but Lillith nearly quoted her impending repeat of Cruor's own comment word for word. Jaslyn's mouth closed and she looked at the Goddess of Malevolence wryly. That one was growing on her, too.

"There's nothing else to do besides keep moving," the fiery-tressed goddess said mildly, jade eyes resting on Cruor, a hand alighting neatly on her hip. She was no longer naked, as she had been when first waking in Pandemonium. In the same manner that she could call her claw-bladed gauntlets to her, she had materialized clothing akin to what she had often worn in Eden: brown leather pants and a forest green top that served only to cover her bosom, leaving her lean midriff bare. A simple fur vest of tan and brown hues lay overtop that, front open. "That tower is the only thing in this entire realm that stands out, which means it must be important."

As she finished speaking, her gaze roamed to the aforementioned tower, seemingly so distant as to be unreachable. A frown marred her deceptively delicate features, face troubled.

[Cfavano]

It was quiet, more or less, in Nameless's mind. How long had it been since this was so. He could think clearly, the screaming of Humanity's sins but a murmur in the corner of his mind. If not for the impending doom, he would enjoy the quiet. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, breathing in the stale air that came off of the city. So similar, and yet also so dissimilar to earth, it was. If not for the quiet and his own eyes, he may have fooled himself into thinking that he was in the realm of man. The stench of metal and the byproducts of industry were rank in the air. His vision took him here, one of death and blood and violence. He nearly clawed his own eyes out at its revelations. But why, for what reason did whatever sends him these horrid things tell him to abandon his necessary work? Only time can tell. He checked to make sure his widowmakers were within reach for him to throw before turning his attention back to the horizon.

"Wryyyyyy!" Nameless cried as he flung himself at the Vanguard robots, putting his fist through the chest of one and flinging it into another. Two, three, four robots fell at his mighty blows, as sparks flew and metal fragments clattered to the ground. His hands bececamle slick with their black, oil-like blood, and it splashed his clothes and face. Killing these...puppets did not grant him the same feeling of satisfaction that ending the lives or mortals did. Whether it was because they had no sins, and therefore did not make him suffer by existing, or they simply were not truly alive meaning that there was no life to take. It mattered little.