[M] The Throne of Gods: Memories of Divinity - IC

[Yggdrasil_Hugger]

Sidhe watched with aloof disinterest as the arena slowly filled, even as a pit of dread formed in her gut. She even recognized a few. The goddess of time she'd interacted with on occasion, turning the great wheel of the seasons. Visana had clashed with her more than once. The protector goddess just didn't quite know how to let go. Atrophos was a face she'd seen in the background many times, though she'd rarely had the pleasure to speak to the corpse-god.

The voice of the Hadesian centipede grated on her ears even as it illuminated the gaps in her knowledge. He was Minos, god of judgment, Malphas' pet announcer. The armored warrior was Aegis, god of kings. The twitchy fellow was Ridstus, god of industry. The final god was Silvanus, the fluid-sexed demiurge of magic. A flighty thing of Selrina's high court, she recalled.

The blistering wind spurned by dragonfire ripped her from her thoughts. Like a falling star, the dragon burned to the black sand of the area, exuding heat and light in equal measures. Scales cracked and shifted like the cooled igneous membrane over lava, spewing pure volcanic incalescence from the abyssal fissures between. Wings of solid flame stretched over scorched-skeletal bones, casting a nigh-unbearable heat over the arena. Then, the chains were falling away and Sidhe felt her power return to her. It felt like a cold wind promising a long and silent winter.

Her right hand stretched into empty space and closed on the handle of the Crescent Moon Sickle, luminous and silver in the umbral haze of Hades. The curved blade glinted saliently. Her left hand reached for her true weapon and she found it, taut black strings that hummed when she plucked them. Death.

[Hannelorian]

Saint-Saens Symphony No. 3 'Organ' - Movement 4 'Finale'

Memory was a funny thing, it comes and goes. Some things remain emblazoned in one's mind forever, while other things simply slip to the edge and fall off like it never existed. As Marette stood in her shackles, and watched with an ethereal and perhaps haunting smile, it comes racing back. Like it had never truly left her, a memory that had only slipped under the current waiting patiently for the tide to die down before surfacing. For a split second the roar of the crowds was silenced, the pained look of her fellow deities melted away, and Marette was left alone.

The Goddess sat on the edge of a cliff, legs and feet dangling free, swinging and swaying gently back and forth as a cool breeze caught her, sending the fabric of a red dress in all directions. Her signature white hair flowed freely. In the distance was a view no one could forget, the White City where so many moments of her own life had played out on a grand stage. Now she sat quietly in the ironically named Garden Forgotten by Time. Her home where nature ran rampant, uncontrolled, untended by the Timekeeper. White statues devoted to all things, sculptures brilliant beyond compare came to rest. The world could pass her by while she stood guard over all of Time.

An unknown figure approached from behind, and without missing a beat Marette called out, "My Lord." But she did not look back, she kept her eyes forward on that beautiful vista, the wind carrying the scent of wildflowers.

"A time will come when you will be called to arms." The figure spoke in a deep voice, one she had recognized. A longing sigh escaped her. "I know." Marette responded with no hint of resignation.

"You must fight." The voice said once more leaving nothing hidden in meaning.

"Once and for all." Marette responded, hands planted firmly in the ground she pushed herself upward to stand.

"And all for once." The figure concluded, and like a gentle gust of wind, was gone by the time Marette finally turned around there was nothing there. Only footprints in the soil. There was a feeling of sadness that remained, perhaps an emptiness that panged in the depths of her heart.

The bone shattering voice of Minos rushed Marette back to reality. Each name he called was accompanied by some colourful quip. In all of the years of his life, it was nice to see he still lacked any kind of originality. To hear her own name, and how fallible she was only served to broaden her smile. She would stand in complete defiance, and for once be brought to act decisively. "Foolish indeed Lord Minos." She spoke loud enough to be heard, but the joy in her voice was unmistakable. She was clearly not amused, and her words dripped with sarcasm.

The appearance of the Hellwyrm was not at all surprising. Of course Lord Minos was far too cowardly to face this pantheon himself, so he would hide behind his magical barriers hoarding his own divinity. It wasn't any fun that he had no plans to share. The draconic figure was imposing and threatening certainly, but Marette did not fail to see the humour, she never did. But it was only when Aegis spoke that the mission became clear. The God of Kings of Rulership, the greatest general of the Order faction, the only one who remained was now commanding them to be strong, to fight and persevere. Nothing had broken his spirit, perhaps all hope had not been lost. Aegis the Eternal, what a thought.

With her shackles broken, Marette was now free. The surge of her powers unleashed travelled through her body like lightning, all of her nerve endings firing at once. The rush of the voices of those she lorded over, the stories of humanity returned, her memory restored. It was a blissful chaos, something that would drive anyone else but her to the point of madness. She could see it, all of time unfolding before her, she could be there in projection to answer the prayers offered, or ignore them entirely. The divine energy was intoxicating, it was euphoric and all consuming.

Extending her right arm, palm facing upward toward the sky, she smirked. "Come." She uttered the word with confidence and force, an impressive glow formed in the space above her, the Divine Rod of Confluence, her weapon of choice hurtled down, stopping just above her palm, she clasped it. "Minos the Mistaken. You shall bow down before us and face our judgment. The Gods of Order have returned and vengeance is ours, we shall repay." Her voice was loud, it was filled with an anger that raged within. The once quiet goddess focused so singularly on her own duties was here to slay the foul beast before her.

"The Lords of Balance will see to the restoration through your own oblivion." Marette smirked, and looked across the arena at her fellow deities, stories of their triumphs and their tribulations flashing through her mind at a rapid pace. The fall had taken its toll on them, but still they were strong and unyielding. She knew of them all, even if she had never met them. To have Sidhe by her side felt like an old comfort, it was the familiar.

"Shall we begin?" Marette asked, her left hand now extending, a series of orbs born from pure light began to form within and rose to float, her fingertips circling and swirling moving them about as they grew in size. Orbs of pure temporal energy that flowed through her veins. The largest which had formed in the center faded into a pale blue, like the color of the earthen sky. Within it contained memories and visions. Visions of great battles with the Hellwyrm as told by generation after generation, passed down through all of time. It contained the cacophony of voices all speaking at once, screaming and shrieking, pain and suffering unchained. The orb designed to confuse, to overwhelm the great dragon's senses, to show images of battles of eras past, blinding him to the events unfolding. With the flick of her wrist she hurled it at the great beast. The smaller orbs still burning white hot now following suit. Each one bounded with the symphony of slow, little balls of time that existed independent of their world, they would fly forth toward the limbs of the beast, to anchor it and hinder it's movement, to slow him down, increasing the effort taken to lurch forward. Each ball like a chain and shackle.

Marette's eyes shifted toward Silvannus and having a lose understanding of their power, she would call across the field, "take what you need." Offering Marette's consent, her attention now returned to the Hellwyrm. "We shall not rest until you have been cloven in twain."

[Scottie]

“Ironically named the God of Decay.”

That was his title was it not. Once upon a time, he was the God of Decay. Hated by many for bringing an end to their precious creations.

“His touch has brought ruin and destruction.”

With barely a twitch of his eyebrow, he could floor a building. Dust and despair would coat his body as he wandered through settlements and brought them to abandonment. Merely a whisper of the bright love filled community remained, etched on the crumbling walls.

“Bound and feeble, he can now relish in his own impending demise."

He twitched his fingers to see just how feeble he was. Nothing. Not even the dust would drift to him. This horrid place was to be his final resting place. Every spectator knew it. Lord Minos relished in the knowledge that every last one of these deities would find their end in this arena. He had decreed it after all.

Scorch fang, our beloved Hellwyrm of Hades.

The ground beneath his feet trembled in what could almost be interpreted as joint fear to reveal a monstrous beast. Its very form reeked of destruction. He had not heard of this creature before but knew that any champion of Malphas would not be an easy foe. Atrophos let out a long and sorrowful sigh. So, this was the end. Reduced to ash by a creature that looked forged from the very depth of Hades itself.

His moment of despair was interrupted by the rousing words of the regal deity, Aegis, his far left. Atrophos had never truly met the god but the words should have been enough to inspire confidence. The weight of the collar around his neck and the magical runes that were inscribed upon it were a dampener on Atrophos’s thoughts on survival. Perhaps he should just lay down and accept the fate that was coming for him. He knew that eventually a new form would rise from the ashes that his charred body would leave behind.

The collar around his neck slackened. The worn painful skin that lay under the collar sighed in relief after being near rubbed raw by the tight metal. His fingers twitched as the collar tumbled from its shoulders. The metal should have thumped against the worn stone floor, yet it did not hit the ground. Flecks of copper rust drifted from the collar before it exploded into rust dust.

“Ah.”

Something stirred within his chest as the orange glitter swirled around his ankles then his legs to floating above his palm. Power. No longer was he bound and feeble. Slowly tensing his fingers towards his palm, every other collar that had fallen from one of his fellow deities disintegrated. The collars would not be used against them again. Even the magical sigils that lay on the metal disappeared into the ether. No metal could withstand his true power and for the first time in a long time, he could feel his true power returning.

The rust swirled around his fingers from every collar in the arena and morphed into a long thin gnarled staff. His fingers touched his palm and made contact with the thin shaft of the staff as it formed into a physical object. Every other deitiy had created their weapon and found themselves in their chosen defensive stance, preparing for what was to come. Atrophos scanned over the group. Aegis, the God of Kings and Rulership, would not look amiss on the front line of any regiment stood ready to his left. The ethereal magical deity of Silvanus, who was facing this threat on with a cockiness that Atrophos could only dream of was to his right.

The worn looking staff looked like forgotten worthless scrap metal compared to the weapons conjured by Ridstus the God of Industry. The Goddess of Autumn’s weapon sparkled in the darkness of the arena inspiring hope to any who glanced their way. Atrophos’s grip on his staff tightened as Marette, the Goddess of Time, summoned orbs of pure light to come to her aid. They were all inspired to fight. The shackles of their imprisonment had sighed free and they were able to truly fight and protect themselves.

Their acts forced hope to wrack through his frail body. Raising the staff barely two inches from the ground, he tapped the stone floor and let his power trickle through his veins. The slightest of tremors rumbled beneath his feet, barely registered by any of the deities nor the horrendous creatures who bayed for their blood. The arena was comprised of stone, presumably coated in some form of mortar…that could be cracked with the right level of pressure from deterioration.

Fixing his gaze on the creature before him, his thumb rubbed against the new staff and flecks of copper rust danced away from Atrophos. Concentrating, he forced the rust to join with some of the dust that lay on the floor of the arena. Together they twisted in an intricate waltz towards the beast, aiming for the nostrils…the ears, the mouth…anyway to get inside that massive skull. The true destination was the dragons left eye. Decaying the tissue, forcing a light layer of cloudiness to blind the eye and bring about a thin cataract.

All he needed was for the dragon to breathe in the rancid dust.

[Azazeal849]

“Visana, the Goddess of Protection!” his legion-like voice dripped with venom. “How laughable, a goddess incapable of safeguarding her own pride!”

“Pride…” the goddess echoed in a low whisper. The sin-reaper thought that pride mattered to her now? But of course - the lords of Hades only valued strength, power, personal dignitas…they couldn’t conceive of fighting for anything else.

Visana looked up. The hell realm had no sky that she could see, only a smothering blanket of pyroclastic clouds, roiling and blood-shot. No way out, no way back. She had lost her wings in the Fall. She tried to picture the sky on Earth, before the Fall had scorched it red. She tried to picture the Elysian sky that she hadn’t seen in…how long had it been?

And then a burning shadow roared across the black clouds. The very air seemed to grow thin, as if the world had sucked in a gasp of horror. The ground trembled as the colossal creature crash-landed onto the brimstone floor, towering over the walls of the arena. The hellwym’s scales bathed them all in a magma-red light, dense and malevolent, and when it beat its wings the heat of them burned Visana’s skin. Minos was gloating, but the dragon’s roar drowned out his words.

There was a click, and at some demonic word of command the manacles fell from the gods’ wrists. Visana looked down at her unshackled hands, almost wary to believe her own eyes.

“Arm yourselves, everyone,” Aegis stated, preparing himself into a battle stance and pointing the lance toward their common enemy. “I don’t have the intention of letting any of us die today.”

Visana felt a tingle in her hands, a prickling that jumped and traced across the prayers covering her skin. No longer suppressed by the runic chains, it spread along her arms and through her chest, filling her with warmth - not the relentless, hammering heat of the hell realm; the warmth of returning power. The power she hadn’t felt since being dragged down here.

She glanced at Aegis and the others. She couldn’t hear humanity, not down here, but she could read the resolution in her companions’ faces. To protect, one needed to first hope that it was possible. She clenched her fists.

The dragon roared, flames weaving between its blackened teeth.

Not just a hellwyrm - the hellwrym. They could fight, but could they kill this thing? Visana knew that the scorched landscape of Hades was littered with the bones of demon lords who had tried. And how many gods had this arena claimed?

They needed to escape - but Minos’ wards hemmed them in. The demon lord grinned down at them from behind the shimmering barrier, the legions of lesser hellspawn capering around him in a seething tide.

Silvannus, Sidhe and Ridstus glowed with their newly returned power, readying their chosen weapons. Marette struck first, throwing out motes of light that ribboned around the hellwyrm’s claws and dragged them down. That was good - it would slow the monster, buy them time.

Borrowed time. Visana looked again at the others; they might not be well known to her, but they were her only allies in this arena - for all she knew, in this whole realm. She needed to lure the monster’s attention away from them, somehow draw its fire.

Atrophos unleashed a twisting stream of dust. As he snapped his staff into the ground, a ring of soot and grime rippled out across the arena. A hairline crack zagged its way up the side of the cliff below Minos, chips sloughing away to rain down into the arena.

A plan came to her.

Heart hammering, she began to run, willing her prison-numbed muscles to work. She jinked right, to the dragon’s left side, under the eye Atrophos was attempting to blind. She stumbled and rolled clear of a clawed forelimb that was trailing orbs of Marette’s light, narrowly evading a talon the length of her arm. She pushed up off her hands, kicking up dust. The stink of brimstone filled her nose.

Her vision locked onto the cracked arena wall; the wall that was still bleeding shards of volcanic stone. She could feel the runes on her skin, humming. Sprinting now, she threw a hand forward and an orb of blue light hurtled away from her towards the wall, stretching and becoming a sword. The point struck the wall and bit in deep. Visana ran and leapt, pushing off her left foot, planting her right on the flat of the blade. She threw herself upward, digging her fingernails into the cracked stone.

One more time, she began to climb.

Behind her the dragon roared, shaking the ground and crazing the wall above her with spider-cracks. Visana hauled herself upward, jamming fingers and toes into the crumbling stone. She had lost her wings in the Fall, and she sorely missed them now.

She could see the faces of demons looking down, their eyes glowing with murder-light. They were shrieking and throwing curses, some raking their claws across the barrier, tracing lines of sparks. She was almost grateful for Minos’ caution, otherwise the Consumed would be swarming headfirst down the wall to stop her. She could not both climb and fight.

She hauled herself up again, and this time hooked a forearm over the lip of the arena wall. The barrier crackled, raising goosebumps on her skin as she dragged herself up onto the battlements. Beyond the ward was a screaming sea of demons, fighting to get at her and throw her back down. They couldn’t reach her, any more than she could reach them.

The barrier was proof against Fallen gods…but was it proof against a god-killer? She was about to find out.

Quickly, hands darting, she began to weave together a barrier of her own, streamers of blue light trailing from her fingertips.

“Hey!” she shouted, arms running with light as she tried to grab the hellwyrm’s attention. Come on, demon! Burn me! “Over here!”

[Yamimoon]

A week, A month, how long had he been stuck in this hell called Tarturus? How long has he been forced to watch as Gods fought, died, and then their weapons shattered? How many voices has he heard scream as their life was ended for no reason?

Lunae has been stuck in a small cell for who knew how long. It was driving him up a wall. Though not for reasons one might think. The heat was nothing to him. The fires of his forge burn hotter. The stench of brimstone didn’t bother him because he was used to smells that would bring normal Gods to their knees. What bothered him most was the screams. The screams of the damned in this place were a constant reminder of the screams he has been forced to hear in the Arena.

Lucky for him she has yet to find a god that has been blessed by one of his children. There have only been a couple of hands full of Gods that have been worthy of possessing a weapon made by him. Giving a sigh he returned from his thoughts and back to the reality of his situation. He was hanging from his wrists from the ceiling of his cell. His clothing was tattered and coated in dried blood. There was even a spot on the ground where his blood stained the floor.

Unlike the other gods that have been imprisoned here his power was not as strong. As long as they could keep him from getting a hold of any of his weapons, he could be considered a weak god. In fact he is one of the weakest gods without his weapons. The collar that he wore was imbued with runes to block the only ability they needed to. This completely made him easy to handle.

However, his attitude towards the Duchess was what ended him up in his current predicament. He had called her a Bitch, and that she should just give up. Because he was never going to give her what she wanted. He would rather die than to surrender to her will. That little outburst wound him up being tortured by one of her followers. He didn’t know if it was on her orders or not, but he didn’t care. He would rather be killed than to live like this, and he just told her the truth.

Yet this moment of peace was ruined by the arrival of the grotesque minions that followed the Dutchess. These creatures looked like twisted forms of what used to be human’s missing limbs, skin that looked like it had been melted off their bones, and then stuck back on. What unnerves him the most is these specific creatures never talked. They only made clicking noises.

These creatures went to work on lowering Lunae to the ground. The creatures went to work removing his restraints. They pulled their swords and pointed them at him. Making a clicking noise talking amongst themselves. One of the creatures poked him with its sword to start the man walking.

Lunae limped forward as the creatures led him down the hall. The reason for his limp was because of him trying to defend his home, and the gods that had followed Malphas to his home were there just in case something went wrong.

A massive battle started, and in this fight a fire was started. He was no match for all three of the gods at the same time, and they were able to subdue him after a long fight. They took him before their master, and that would be the last time he would walk normally.

Commanding them to throw him down to the ground and hold them there, the Dutchess decided that she wanted to make it where he would never be able to run from her. So, she took one of his sledgehammers and slammed it down on his right leg multiple times. The sounds of crushing bone and the smell of blood were mixed together with his screams of pain. The bones in his leg were shattered, and he had passed out from the pain.

By the time he woke up his power was bound, and his leg had been slightly healed. However, he was unable to walk on it normally. So, because of this he was abnormally slow compared to what he used to be. He also doubted he would ever be able to heal the wound completely. As he limped down the hall he felt a blade stick into his back trying to make him go faster. Yet he just ignored the piercing pain of the blade sticking into his flesh and continued to walk trying his best to hide his limp.

It took them longer than expected to lead the man to the fork in the road. One hall led to the arena, and the other led to where Malphas would be waiting. However, he was surprised as the underlings forced him into the hall leading to the arena. A low chuckle left his throat as he walked.

“Has your master finally given up on me?” Lunae asked as he continued to chuckle. Finally he would be able to leave this place. Granted it would be through death, but at least he would be free. He walked to the podium that was meant for him. As he ignored the rest of the gods. He would probably not know any of them. They were probably trash gods that she had chosen to have him die alongside. Now he was one of those pieces of trash. Thrown away, yet where the other would fight for their lives. He was resigned to his fate.

As Minos: God of Judgment spoke about each god and goddess. He never learned the names of any of his fellow deities. Because of this he didn’t know any of their names. He only recognizes them by the weapons that they possess. So, he could have cared less about being skipped in the introductions. None of the gods here would have probably heard of him. He is just a smith after all. So, he didn’t mind as the battle for their lives began. The god of judgment summoned a Hellworm to fight the gods, and he only chuckled once more. An Hellworm was nothing in the face of the right weapon.

He had a couple of weapons that would be able to do some damage to the thing's scales. Yet, at the same time even if they wanted to kill the creature, it would be a difficult task even if all of the god and goddesses here had weapons made by him to fight a creature like this. He knew why she was using something like this. That was because she knew it would definitely kill the lot of them.

Taking his eye off the God of Judgment he looked straight at Malphas tower and smiled. Even if she wasn’t watching these events he didn’t care. He knew her underlings would tell her what he did. It was meant to be his last act of defiance of her expectations. He knew that she was at her wits end with him and decided that having one of his weapons was not worth the verbal abuse she had been enduring from him. His smile might piss her off more, but he didn’t care. When the red barrier appeared, he looked back down at the Hellworm. His smile never left his face as the restraints were removed. He just limped to the wall and sat down leaning against it. He would just wait for his end to come. He closed his eyes, as the voices of the weapons that were summoned reached his ears.

Each weapon was ready to fight to the bitter end for their masters. However, there was a voice that he recognized. At least one of the weapons here was one of his children. He opened his eyes and looked at each weapon present.

[RedKayne]

"And my sincere apologies, I forgot to introduce our last measly deity," Minos's cackling voice echoed across the hellish arena. "Lunae, God of Forging and Skills! A so-called master crafter of the most divine weapons, but he shall bear witness to his own creations, and his own body, incinerated before the hellfire wyrm's magma breath!" The crowd cheered as the battle commenced between the captured deities and the champion of Malphas.

The battle began with Marette, the Goddess of Time, creating temporal orbs of light that darted toward the gargantuan creature. The orbs shackled around the dragon's legs, intending to slow down his movement and reaction time. This allowed the critical opportunity for Atrophos, the God of Decay, to send a swirling mist of dust and rust toward the wyrm's left eye. The dragon's keen senses knew something was amiss and attempted to back away from the incoming attack. However, the echoes of the past fights and the temporal orbs were enough of a distraction to impede the creature's movement. There was a hellish roar as the dragon inhaled the dust and the effects were immediate, a thin layer of cloudiness erupted onto its left eye, effectively blinding that side.

Aegis, the God of Kings and Rulership, silently took the open opportunity and charged straight to the monstrosity. He leaped into the air with an upward arc, his lance in hand as the distracted dragon shook its head as if in a vain attempt to get rid of the blindness. Those few seconds were critical as Aegis drove his Scepter into the dragon's left eye, gouging out the orb with a spray of crimson blood and embers. The thunderous roar of the Scorchfang reverberated across the arena as if a devastating earthquake was occurring. The Hellfire Wyrm's rage met no bounds and with one swift movement, the Marette's temporal orbs of light shattered into billions of pieces and its claw gripped onto Aegis, its talons piercing into his crimson armors as blood trickled down from his fresh wounds.

With another swift movement, Scorchfang launched Aegis across the arena to the other side where he crashed into the wall, debris flying out everywhere as a storm of dust covered even the silhouette of his body, leaving his fate unknown. The dragon's head viciously turned to face the majority of the group, a trail of blood and fire trickling down from the remnants of its left eye as if backed onto its hind legs and inhaling a large breath - signifying the upcoming devasting attack. The dragon released its breath attack in a torrent of flames and magma toward the group of deities.

"Hey! Over here!" a strong female broke through the chaos of the attack and interrupted Scorchfang's assault. He paused with his magma breath and ignored whether the deities survived his initial attack or not and tuned his serpentine neck to face Visana, the Goddess of Protection. He growled in annoyance before taking another deep breath and unleashing another powerful torrent of flames and magma.

---

Minos, the abomination of a god, overlooked the arena from his floating platform. Peculiar, very peculiar, the God of Judgement scratched the jaw on his torso, thinking to himself. How did they free themselves from their restraints? The overseer was taken aback when he noticed that all of the chained deities were freed from the rune chains and regained their full divine power. However, there may not need to be an intervention, seemed that the crowd was eating up every second of this battle and that the deities actually thought they had a fighting chance against the Hellfire dragon.

He slightly grimaced when he witnessed the dragon's left eye gouged out, but he trusted that the wyrm's devastating breath attack should immediately incinerate the deities. "Now what is she doing...?" the simultaneous low grumble and high piercing voice questioned aloud as he observed Visana climb onto the arena walls. Minos's torso-jaw dropped wide in shock as he quickly realized her plan. "Scorchfang! Wait! You'll-"

It was too late as the dragon's torrent of flames and magma collided against the ethereal wall separating the crowd from the actual fight. Some of the demons in the audience immediately recoiled back in fear of their lives. The flames eventually dissipated but Minos was hardly concerned for the fate of the Protection Goddess. There was a haunted second as the God of Judgment observed if the barrier was intact... and it stood standing and unblemished.

He released a sigh of relief.

Crack!

His arachnid body froze in place as he witnessed the ethereal wall cracking with a crimson light from the impact of the breath attack. A sudden silence cut through the arena as the audience realized that the barrier was weakened and their very lives may be in danger if the dragon released another similar attack against the barrier.

"Enough!" Minos's legion-like voice called out in anger. "I sentenced you all to a very painful death, and I intend to keep that sentence!" Angry veins visibly bulged from every single muscle of his grey-skinned body. He clasped his hands together as he called upon his celestial might and each and every single gladiator in the arena felt a piercing pain on their right shoulder. They were branded with the hellish mark of Minos, a circular pattern of lines that resembled a maze. The God of Judgment used his own divine powers to make them more vulnerable and susceptible to pain against any fiery attacks, ensuring their deaths for the remainder of this fight.

[Dire Hoef]

The throes of combat were chaotic to say the least.

One moment the hellbeast was staggered and then the next its left eye was removed, forcibly. All of this happened within a matter of seconds, Riddy's eyes tracking the whole series of events. However, what brought him into focus was the coming flood of fire and magma.

He activated every gear and cog in his legs, where he planted one feet and pushed with the other. He slid several feet to the right; side-stepping the gout. However, he took some heat; some of that fire singed his expensive clothes. He stared down at the scarred clothing and yelled, "THAT WAS GUCCI YOU OVERGROWN FIRE LIZARD!!"

He activated those same gears again, this time moving to get a more viable shot. Once his targeting software locked in on that left eye the other gods had opened up, Riddy proceeded to mag-dump; sending several titanium-tipped rounds zipping down range. No one, not even the lowlifes in the aubience, got between him and fashion. The mere fact that this beast had zero sense of fashion was criminal, and thus punishment was due.

Although he mag-dumped the monster, a mark appeared on him that caused his HUD to fluctuate. Suddenly a piercing pain shot through his right shoulder, to which he immediately turned off his pain receptors to avoid the shock. He looked over and up and shouted. "AGAIN, THE GOD OF JUDGEMENT BEING BITCH MADE!!!" Riddy cackled like a maniac, deciding to keep his pain receptors off. Although he couldn't exactly shake the static in his vision.

"Damn Minos and his magic bullshit.."

He turned his attention back to the wyrm, the pistols already in the process of reloading themselves.

[Salroka]

Enter the Hunter
click above for musical accompaniment

The show had gone on long enough. Using both visual camouflage and sensory camouflage abilities, Mahisu had scouted out the arena and found three distinct points where energies were being focused. The large runes arranged in a triangular formation at the top of the arena walls. They were made fairly obvious, as it seemed no one even dared go near them. That made the God of the Hunt raise an eyebrow. Surely, he pondered, if one wished to hide the significance of such things, then they would not make them so conspicuous. In any case, it was not his arena so it was not his problem. Well... it was, in a sense... but not for much longer. This arena would soon have much larger problems than poorly-concealed magical focal points.

First, a distraction was needed. It seemed there were a few other gods in attendance at this raucous display of blood sport. One of them in particular stood out to Mahisu. Khrag, the Lord of Torture. If one didn't know better, they would mistake the deity for one of those Orks from a fantasy game. He was large, incredibly muscular, covered in scars, and had ashen grey skin. That would be Mahisu's distraction. The divine hunter would dispatch the master tormentor in a single shot. Concealed against the arena wall beneath one of the runes, Mahisu drew his bow and mouthed the fatal incantation:

"Kammusu dara ina qereb Ersetu."

The arrow was set loose and buried itself in the ribcage of Khrag. A painful and potentially mortal wound under most circumstances, the shot was dramatically enhanced by Mahisu's vicious curse. The others around the large god did not seem to immediately understand what had happened, confused and taken aback by the sudden sound of an arrow hitting and the spatter of divine blood over their surroundings. It would be a lie if Mahisu claimed to take no pleasure in this kill. Khrag had been known to hunt now and then, but torment his quarry and cause unnecessary pain and suffering rather than ensure a quick and clean kill.

In short order, the demise of one of the divine spectators caused chaos to erupt in the crowd. In the confusion, Mahisu would take his chance to destroy the rune above his head. The surge of energy from its destruction would no doubt disrupt his camouflage, but that bridge would be crossed in due time. Dismissing his bow and recalling his knife, Mahisu lept into the air and drove the blade into the runestone with all his might. Being forged from the bones of a divine beast, the blade easily pierced the stone and magical energies contained within. Extremely bright light erupted from the stone in multiple directions as Mahisu pulled his knife from it and landed upon the empty spectator's bench below. The stone quickly burst and unleashed a torrent of raw magical energy onto the immediate area, breaking Mahisu's stealth and revealing the stoic God of the Hunt in all his glory.

[RisingPhoenix]

The battle had truly begun. Silvannus levitated as his eyes took in what was happening. First, the Goddess of Time created beautiful orbs of light. A marvelous display of her power over time. The orbs that she had produced launched toward the Hellwyrm. His ears picked up her voice as she spoke to him directly, telling him that he could take from her what he needed in order to assist them in battle. The words echoed like a thousand angry hornets as his eyes illuminated. His mouth opened and from it, he spoke one word. Though not loud, the word was etched into the Grand Grimoire as a spell. With her blessing, Silvannus had created a spell that granted him access to the power of time, but only briefly. The spell had a time limit of 30 - 60 seconds. He closed his eyes and the illumination faded. His head turned to the God of Decay who had managed to produce a cloud of rust and decay. Impressive were those who stood next to him in the arena. Another, the Goddess of Protection had begun to climb a nearby wall and he wasn't quite sure what she was going to do, but in his distraction, the God of Kings had somehow managed to wound the great beast by driving his weapon deep into the left eye.

The roar was near deafening and yet Silvannus could only tilt his head in annoyance and smirk. His eyes shifted to the direction Minos was perched. How he wished to end the life of the God of Judgement. Suddenly, there was a loud crash. Silvannus' eyes widened as he watched Aegis soar through the sky and crash into the wall. He hoped that Aegis had survived the rather forceful throw from the Hellwyrm. Looking over at Lunae, he couldn't shake the familiarity he felt being near him. He couldn't recall ever meeting him, but part of him was drawn to the God of Forging and Skill. This concerned him and had distracted him to the point that he hadn't noticed the plumes of bone-destroying flame heading in their direction.

The dragon had managed to rip away from the restraints that the Goddess of Time could be thanked for. There was no doubt this battle with this creature would be one they would all remember, but it was not his time to die. His divine senses caused his head to turn as the great flames neared, and at the last possible second, Silvannus vanished. Reappearing next to Aegis, Silvannus looked down at the God of Kings. He could smell the blood. Silvannus ethereal fans flew around Aegis, revolving in a circle.

"Try to stay still. I can mend the wounds, but I cannot take away the pain," Silvannus said, but just as he was about to speak, a searing pain filled his senses and he groaned, his feet nearly touching the ground, but his will overpowered the pain and he spoke in an ancient tongue. The fans transformed into beautiful ribbons that slowly began to wrap around Aegis' wounds.

"Give it a few minutes and your wounds will be healed. I swear it's always 'charge in first' with you muscleheads. If you don't start using your brain, so help me." Silvannus scolded Aegis as if he were close to him as if they were friends, but beyond the walls of the arena, Silvannus did not know him, but he did know of him.

His attention snapped back to the great dragon when the sound of an explosion rocked the barrier. At first, he held his breath thinking it was futile to attack such a strong barrier, but then it began to crack, and that crack in the barrier was a sign that it was no longer strong and unyielding. Now it was weak and brittle. He began to think of ways to help the other deities. His Ethereal Fans were out of commission for now, but there was something else he could try and at that moment the God of Industry began his assault on the dragon. Silvannus continued to hover returning his gaze to Aegis.

"What do you think we should do? You are the God of Kings and Rulership after all."

There was no time for a response as another explosion rang out, this one louder than the first, but it was not the dragon this time, The bright light filled the area and Silvannus felt magic, torrents of it, flood into his being as if upset to be held captive within the vessel that held it. He blinked a few times and wondered what could have caused such a disruption.

"I do not believe we are alone in this great warrior. I suppose we should at least finish the beast and get out of here."

[Hannelorian]

Cooperation was the essence of survival, as was a general attitude toward action. Both things Marette was generally unfamiliar with or unwilling to engage in. To interfere and manipulate the threads of time was an action that would forever change the course of history, not giving the timeline itself a chance to play out as it was intended. This was irresponsible. Thus her role was a solitary one, and often left the Goddess of Time with a profound sense of solitude, and the weight of responsibility upon her shoulders. To have the power to change the course of time was an awesome one, and one that had to be protected from those who would seek to control it for themselves.

As above, so below.

As the Gods above fight for power, control, for justice, for the forces of divine light, or wretched darkness so did the mortals on the lower plains of existence. The same dramas were mirrored, only this remained entirely in focus on a macrocosmic level. If these Gods and Goddesses were to die, there was no telling what it would mean for the heavens, the realms and to every single fiber of every single being. The repercussions were enormous, and so Marette would choose to continue to act, where otherwise she would sit idle.

It did not take the Hellwyrm long to rid itself of Marette's bindings. She smiled faintly, and watched on as suddenly Aegis was thrown to the barriers, devastatingly injured. "Aegis!" The Goddess cried, it took not a moment for Silvannus to quickly see and tend to his wounds. Much as Marette felt a kinship with Siddhe, she too could feel a sense of kinship forming with this newly acquainted deity. Her power had been used wisely, responsibly. Something Marette approved of, it took a great deal of wisdom to use the powers of time, it was easy to abuse. Respect, perhaps that was what was emerging. "Our virtuous leader must learn the lessons of patience." Marette was not admonishing entirely, though she was serious. If he was to continue to rally and lead, he would need to act with forethought, and not entirely out of instinct.

The violent crack in the arena wall garnered her attention. "Oh Minos... not nearly as clever as you think you are." Marette spoke to no one in particular, this however, was a remarkably important turn of events. It meant they could escape, and that even Minos was now on edge, ready to turn tail and run if the situation grew any more dire. It was rather a shame that such flaws could be so easily identified and exploited. Minos had too long allowed his ego to control his actions, and gone were the days were he would take this time in the performance of his duty, assuming he was smarter than all who he saw judged, found guilty and executed.

The wyrm now missing the gift of sight had turned it's attention to Visana and in a moment, Marette extended the rod of divine confluence, with a swift motion, more orbs of light emerged and flew toward the flames, each one bursting as it made contact with the immense heat, exactly as planned. The particles that remained, like grains of sand turning to glass would expand, and with the careful pulling of Marette's finger tips she coaxed time itself to slow down further, much as it had done earlier., isolated to the areas of flames alone. Though even she could not stop the entire stream, she would slow it sufficiently to allow for time to prepare for either an impact, or to avoid it all together. "Try my patience any more, and I shall send you back to your first days of life." Marette would not interfere so greatly, but for a moment she allowed herself to indulge in the quiet rage building within her.

Then a sharp pain struck in her right shoulder, beneath the tattered remains of the black robes of mourning which attempted to protect her. The mark of beast was carved into her flesh. "Be careful everyone! The bastard just turned up the pain." Marette exhaled deeply, taking a moment to center herself and shake off the pain. Unbeknownst to her, a similar chaos was developing in the spectator's boxes. They were not alone in this fight, it extended beyond the arena. It seemed someone was smiling upon them. A strange sensation unfolded, as though the tides were finally beginning to turn.