UnDeath of the Ice King

On the other side of the planet, the ice giant king Raskulous runs through waist high pine trees as a blizzard howls across the Peabluff ice. A warm expression covers his icy face as he tears off his royal cloak tossing it into the wind. The hundreds of pounds of fabric wouldn't go far. He extends his bare arms into the raging storm feeling the snow and ice pelt his skin he breathes heavily. “Isn't it lovely Damnstren? Finely out of that castle, I couldn’t breathe in there.”

 A slightly smaller ice giant struggles to keep up wading through the thick trees behind the giant king. “Sir, I am sorry but this isn’t..” Damnstren trips and falls on his face into the trees, a smaller one going up his nose and snapping off. The ice giant wails and pokes at the protruding stick unsure of what to do.

“Hold Still” the king grabs Damnstren by the head with a mighty hand and the base of the tree with the other. With no warning, he rips the tree out. Ice cold blood pours from the giant's nose as he lets out a giant's scream. 

“You’ll be fine.” Said the king walking away unconcerned. “You see Damnstren I needed you to come out here with me to feel the air and hunt like a real giant for a change. You are too spoiled by the city, if you are going to be my royal squire I need you able to handle these kinds of situations. We are at war Damnstren. We must be willing to struggle and… Damnstren!” The king quickly knelt next to Damnstren pressing his head against the young giant pointing at something through the blizzard. “Do you see it?”

Damnstren looked but saw nothing but a raging blizzard. “No…”

“There!!” pointing more furiously as if that would somehow make him see. “The trees there have been pushed down and the bark stripped, there were mammoths here.” The king smiled, running ahead of the still bleeding Damnstren. “Mammoths Damnstren, hurry up!”

“Sir, with all due respect, I am not your squire, I am not a fighter, I have simply been tasked with making sure you understand these battle plans, and also we just had mammoth. I can get you all the mammoth you want back in the city.”

The king simply laughed and started running towards the edge of the trees. “The city be damned Damnstren, the city be damned!”

The boreal forests of the southern ice caps bordered a seemingly endless tundra. The city of Peabluf sat just on the border and stayed frozen year around. Towering buildings of ice and lights, electricity and industry, this was a very modern city ruled by the ice giants who had largely given up their humanoid slaves for more effective magical and mechanical versions. In the heart of the city, iron hammers as big as buildings cold-roll iron ore into steel by the hands of master craftsmen. Armor, weapons, and magical goods are produced by the cold forges at an incredible rate given the slow speed of their process. Frost Builders, as they are called, are able to create buildings capable of housing a hundred ice giants in hours. Food and drink are magically produced and traded in from all over Cylinder. Magical living objects do most of the menial work of the city allowing the common ice giants to pursue the joys of their more privileged lives than those of their kin. Many criticized Peabluff for its indulgences and opulence, for its fat and lazy citizens, but those same critics spoke highly of King Raskulous. He was a powerful ice giant with deep wisdom and a fierce reputation. After many years of war, however, the king was tired of conflict and death and wished to end the ten millennia of constant warfare that had consumed the lives of generations. The dragons were being defeated by the elves, their old enemies being taken care of by their new ones. Raskulous didn’t want to create another endless war with these smaller races. The storm giant king, the high king of all giants on Cylinder, Goomboa, had lost several cities and the majority of his people that are still alive have been pushed back to the fire fortress Gorthial which is under the control of the fire giant king Therious Hammerhall. Though the king still lives, the Storm Giant kingdom is no more. Their losses were always few but the dwarves kept coming back stronger and the giants did not, therefor they were in a fight for survival, and so far are losing. These were troubling times. 

Raskulous needed time away from the conflict, the losses of the storm giants and cloud giants were not his responsibility. He believed that the best way to end the conflict was to negotiate with the smaller races not to kill them indiscriminately until they submit. He also feels as if there is no point in trying to get across to them how doomed it all was. He feels merely a pawn in a pointless war. A war of pride and fools. At least he can stifle enlistment numbers, shielding some of his people from the horrors of war. At least that's what he told himself. 

He put his mighty staff behind him drawing his crossbow. A large ballista for a medium sized creature, the huge crossbow was able to fire thin metal bolts at amazing speeds taking down ships and dragons. He lowered his body into the trees, having to crawl to hide beneath them. He snapped thick trunks with his every movement. The heavy blizzard obscured his sounds making him able to be more stealthy for the hunt. Damnstren sighed and got down on his arms and legs to follow his king silently moving behind him. 

At the edge of the forest, the king removed his crown to keep it from popping up over the trees. Damnstren sees the king's bald head for the first time. He has seen him naked at the fertility festivals but he has never seen him without his crown. The glow in the king's eyes slowly dims as he tucks the crown into his arm. He pushes forward in the trees, carefully trying to avoid making too much noise. Crossbow at the ready, he peers into the vast empty planes of the ice flats. Off in the distance he sees a group herded together. The tight mass of brown fur was easy to spot in the white landscape. Something was off. He could see the tusks sticking out from the central mass as if the group was facing outward defending their young. Then he heard it on the wind. The bellowing mammoths, and the hunting cries of the primitive humans surrounding them. They were outside their normal territory. Usually, the tribal humans of the southern ice would stay far away from the giant city. They must be lost in the blizzard. The king looks back and smiles at Damnstren before carefully returning his crown and standing. He quickly charges drawing his sword and putting away his crossbow. Suddenly, he charges the unsuspecting mammoths and humans.

The blue glow of his eyes, crown, and 15ft blade of ice come from the storm just as the booming footfalls of the ice giant king quiet the battle of the mammoths and humans. Raskulous, screaming and leaping through the air in true barbarian fashion. He lands rolling off his shoulder into the deep snow with his blade impaling mammoth. He sets his feet and expertly throws the mammoth toward the rest of the herd knocking down several in the defensive huddle. Vines explode from the ground around Raskulous pinning his feet. A weak enchantment but catching him off guard the giant stalls for a moment. An old human steps forward from the group of primitives. Not covered in tightly wrapped firs like the others, he stands naked in the blizzard chanting into the storm. Raising his hand the snow and swirling ice coalesce around him, glowing tattoos spread and cover his body as his voice carries into the storm, a cyclone rages around him that he sends to the caught off guard warrior king. The sharp shards of ice pelt Raskulous cutting into his skin though not enough to draw blood. His feet still stuck to the ground, Raskulous turns, he has to strenuously move his legs one step at a time pulling up ice and vines as the cyclone stays with him covering him in tiny cuts and building frost. Raskulous crown of ice and his eyes start shining a bright blue, and in the distance, a light atop the city shines with him giving him power. 

 The human shaman still chanting moves backwards away from the the nearly unfazed approaching giant. His companions also backing away unsure if they should fight or run. A bolt of lightning shoots from the shaman in a desperate attempt crackling across the giant king's skin and leaving black charred marks. Raskulous felt that one. Enraged he takes the last few huge steps unencumbered tearing through the vines towards the shaman and smashes his sword with such force the body explodes and the ice cracks beneath. The other humans splattered with blood scream and run in different directions. Raskulous still raging swings his sword cutting two in half, another he charges as they run towards the trees, Raskulous quickly overtakes and smashes them with his fist cratering the bloodied ice. Raskulous roars into the blizzard, the blizzard roaring back in tandem. Several deep breaths, Raskulous begins to calm. Damnstren, hiding from the raging king, pokes his head up from the trees asking, “Are you all right?”

“Damn it Damnstren. First the elves, then the dwarves, now even the humans defy their place in the world!? Will the orcs be next?! The cows and pigs?! When will it end Damnstren!?” Raskulous sheds tears into the storm realizing that the mammoths were gone and he had ruined his one moment to get away from it all. ”I just wanted a moment Damnstren. Was that so much to ask for? One hunt before the next war. These smaller races just won't stop unless we stop them…” Raskulous stares into the emptiness as he often did leaving others in suspense, the raging blizzard seems to gently calm down with the king. 

“I am with you, as always, my king. We all are.” Damnstren lost all thoughts of the upcoming battle in the moment. A mistake that he will attribute to the end of the world. 

At the ice gates of Peabluf, a hundred royal guards stand waiting. The king had asked them to wait for him while he went hunting, too loyal to simply leave him be they stood at the gate ready for his return, Damnstren being the only one whom the king requested. A large heavily armored ice giant rides a colossal frost salamander beside Raskulous as he approaches the gate. 

“Only half a mammoth sir? I’d expect you to come back with food for the whole city the way you charged out of here the first moment you could.” The First Captain Geriyald laughed but quickly saw the scorch marks and small cuts. “Did something happen sir? COMPANY!!!” the royal guard waiting snaps to attention, dozens of other ice giant warriors come running to their spots in line. Most have been serving the king for a hundred years and have seen a thousand battles alongside their warrior king. They were the very best.

“No, well yes but I easily handled it.” A quick runic hand movement, and the crown of ice on the king's head glowed a pale blue, the slight wounds the king was ignoring healed, his clothing repaired itself and even his royal robe fell from his shoulders again restoring him to his kingly image after his stolen moment of barbarism. 

“Some humans, they must have been lost in the blizzard and been tracking the mammoths for days, one of them had some magical talent.” The king smiled feeling the blood still on his sword. “They attacked. Foolish creatures.”

“Should I send some men to track them back to their camp and irradicate them, sir, just in case?”

“NO!” The king barked stopping where he was. Even atop the colossal frost salamander, Geriyald was face to face with the king. The king stood a full 20 feet taller than any normal ice giant. “They attacked me out of ignorance I will not retaliate in kind!” The glow in the king's eyes reflected his right of domination over other ice giants, a power given to his family by the night hags of hades. The giants did not wince in pain as he flared his power given by birthright, rather the light filled them with admiration and a love for their king. He could force them into submission but instead, he chose to be a beacon of light for them to follow, and his men did so willingly. Not all ice giants were as happy with their king, however.

The skyscrapers of ice let off so much light that there was little difference between day and night. A hundred thousand ice giants flooded the streets as magical animated vehicles and tools scurried around them preparing for the festival. Music and dancing of the 40ft ice giants could be heard for miles around if not for the blizzard the gathered ice giants conjured. This was the celebration of blood, Oakinteir, a yearly giant festival of feasting on living creatures. Cages of ice being ushered around the city held the frightened beasts. Mostly livestock, though the magical, wild, and rare could also be found. And though taboo, many humanoids and sentient creatures in cages could also be found by those who knew where to look. Peabluf was a very large capital city of the ice giants, it spread for 50 miles in all directions and grew by the day. Magical food and drink were produced by the ice giants' schools of magic and magical industry. Portal travel in and out of the city was becoming so common that the ice giants were slowly creating Cylinder’s first interplanar trading organization. Unfortunately, this has always singularly served the war effort and so its potential has never been seen. Still, most giants of different types saw the ice giant city as a city of luxury and excess. 

Raskulous walked the market street, surrounded by his much smaller royal guard clad in armor holding weapons and shields of immense power, as the king walked covered in nothing but his robe, loincloth, and a variety of weapons as he always did. Towards the center of town, the people were gathering for Rashicba, the feeding dance. Raskulous and his hundred men were met with cheers and gifts of living animals in cages. A royal guard at the edge lifts his helm for someone feeding him by hand. He quickly eats the screaming living pig and snaps his helm back on getting into formation. Some of the more promiscuous giants would hold the animals in their teeth to feed them. Though while in uniform this was all frowned upon, they were meant to be stoic. Giants in the square leap into the air spinning around to the deep resonous music, like impossibly articulate pipe organs and endless explosions, ice flutes twenty feet long, and drums the size of buildings play a lively song. The laughter and lights came just before the intense smell of blood. Raskulous wanted to move to music, drawn to the festival. He resists and continues, he has work to do in the nearby capital building. As Raskulous and his guard pass envious, blood covered ice giants pick up crates of livestock readying them for the dancers. Taking the crates to sparkly circles in the town square drawn with magical starlight chalk, the cages of ice are broken and the cattle and pigs float running in place. Their screams are muted by the field as they toss in turn in zero gravity. Dancers, still moving in in a hypnotic and endless spinning, grab the creatures and feed themselves and others. The giants smile and present the crushing of the beasts between their teeth as the crowd cheers. With each crunch a flood of blood and body parts spill to the ground below covering everything in a layer of frozen red that gets trampled and spread across the city by the crowds. Raskulous wished he could join. So did his men. But there are more important things than festivals.

The capital building was easy to find as it was the tallest building in the city. It was surrounded by capital street which housed some of the best the city had to offer. Raskulous passed a group of soldiers marching in formation in front of the palace forges. The ringing of cold steel and the smell of the training made Raskulous smile. This is the world he had always known. The endless wars that have consumed his life. He wondered what the world would look like if he succeeded in ending this war for good. What potential his people would find. He wasn't sure if he would be the right king for such a world but that was alright with him. Swirling planner gates on the side of the street crackle with energy as vehicles of ice and steel come through. Dozens of other vehicles and tanks, and even the great flying ship Frostwake are here docked alongside the capital building. This was odd to Raskulous. Was this all for the festival? Most of these soldiers should still be on deployment. He made a mental note of it and continued toward the gates of the capital building. The entrance gave way to the main chamber a room surrounded by stairwells and smaller offices that rose thousands of feet into the air to the top of the building which was capped with a roof of crystal ice that shined a light into the chamber. Magical flying platforms act as elevators flying all around the busy building. On the floor, hundreds of desks held the many ice giant office workers who kept track of the needs and logistics of the military. The building was crowded, even more crowded than the streets. The royal guard pushed their way to create a path for the king. Puzzled by the variety of soldiers, Raskulous walks to his royal elevator. The various military members handling paperwork stopped to salute as the king passed. Raskulous sees members of the Mentitian, the ice giants psychic warfare unit. Why would THEY be here? Raskulous hurried, he felt unsettled by not knowing that such a force was supposed to be here. Then the king realized too late stepping onto his platform. He points to one of the guards. “Damn it! Bring me Geriyald!”

Atop the capital building the crystal ice shined a bright blue with the magic of the festival. The dark necromancer Udamance weaves a spell of dark divination. A pentagram on the floor of the ice chamber glows with a crackling sickly green lightning. Several dark forms appear as vestiges of other necromancers surrounding the pentagram wearing dark hoods. Udamance pulls his hood and sits at his spot in the circle. In unison, the forms around the circle begin chanting with Udamance and lift their arms. The center of the pentagram glows as blood and ooze begin bubbling up, an eyeball and teeth begin to form from the fleshy summoned blob, and sounds of gurgling and forming snapping flesh and bones seize into a homunculus that begins screaming and twitching as new limbs begin to form. In seconds a winged and horned devil of a creature lies hacking up blood shivering and choking on the air as Udamance and the hooded vestiges all continued chanting. The body stops moving, the light falls from its eyes which go grey and lifeless. “It is time.” The dead creature begins to speak black smoke coming from its mouth as the body lies still. “My time is at hand, let the world rejoice in the beauty of death. Where is the form that I shall inhabit? This creature is weak and can not sustain me.”

“Your new body is coming. First, we must prepare you for the process of possession.” Udamance stands and walks to his apothecary table. The crystal blue table was filled with different substances that lie embedded in the crystal. Udamance waves his hand and Severas Root and powdered jade rise up to the tabletop stored inside small crystal containers. Another wave of the hand the ingredients begin mixing on their own into a fine powder that Udamance takes to the dead devil. The chanting starts again as Udamance lifts the crystal bowl holding the powder high in the air. The shining light of the tower focuses on the bowl and the chanting gets louder. The vestiges now almost yelling stand dropping their robes. Amongst them is Gleamstiglil the Coruptor who now wears the crown of chromatic domination. The powder in the bowl lifts into the light glittering and popping before being shot down at the devil's body. Crystals begin growing on the corpse that connects it to the tower and a blue light begins glowing from the eyes of the still unmoving creature whose mouth is now black with thick smoke creeping out. Its lips and cheeks were completely dissolved by the breath of entropy which now poured out of holes in the throat and chest.

“UDAMANCE!!!” The king stormed in with four of his trusted palace guards. Drawing his crossbow he charges forward toward the ice giant necromancer in the middle of some dark ritual. The king didn’t know what was going on. He also didn’t care. Goomboa, the king of all giants, gave Udamance unprecedented powers in his military, so Udamance was the only one who could have brought all these soldiers. Whatever was going on in his tower just made him more convinced that he needed to kill him. Talking was often useless the king found. While running the king fires a shot discarding the crossbow in the same motion to draw an axe and his sword of ice. The barbarian roar of Raskulous is met by the armored ice giant warriors’ roars who hurried to keep up with their king who predictably was charging ahead.

“I am sorry my king. If only you were smarter, you would have seen this coming.” Udamance stops the balista sized bolt with a wave of his hand and a wall of energy rises behind Raskulous as Udamance wreathes himself in the magical energy of the tower. Spectral arms grab hold of Raskulous as he pushes forward ripping them from the ground. Chanting begins again from the dark vestiges and the black smoke coming out of the dead devil turns blue and begins emanating the same sickly green lighting coming from the pentagram while coalescing in the air. “The only path to peace is through war. If you are too weak to do what must be done, then so be it. And if our people can not accept what I must do, then so be that as well.” The royal guards begin yelling and pounding on the energy barrier with their weapons unable to get to their king. The green lightning of the pentagram and hovering blue smoke begin emanating from the top of the tower. Outside, the surrounding blizzard suddenly changes direction as the music stops and a green glow overtakes the blue magical energy of the festival. 

Throwing his axe, the king finally succumbs to the necrotic energies of the spectral arms, his men pounding ever harder on the energy wall separating them. “They will kill you for this!” The king's eyes start to glow blue as his crown, made of the same crystal as the tower, grows and shines brightly on his head. Raskulous’s muscles swell and he explodes from the spectral arms. Again, Udamance waves away the weapon effortlessly. His eyes similarly glow but with a green and sickly color. He snaps his fingers and teleports across the crystal chamber, still inside the energy barrier, just as the king’s ice blade sweeps across the platform Udamance was standing on. The king screams in pain as dozens of spectral arms and large bolts of green energy scatter across his skin. The blue light of his crown turns green as the king resists and pulls upwards away from the arms. The devil corpse, now little more than a black and blue crystal covered and smoking skeleton, lifts a finger and points at Raskulous. The King meets the gaze of the empty sockets as in unison the king’s eyes turn green and arms slouch to his side as the skeleton crumbles into ash. Outside the barrier one of the king’s men runs for the door to call for aid as Daskres, the royal magister warrior, begins activating a magical explosive device and diving behind a crystal spire with two others of the king’s guard. The explosion brings down the barrier just as devilish stone horns grow from Rasculous’ crown and shards of ice return to their original blue though with a sickening tainted hue. Extending an arm the now skeletal face of Raskulous yells “Halt” commanding the royal guard to stop. The three warriors freeze, kneeling unable to resist the crown of domination that they had sworn fealty to and the light of the tower that shined down upon them. “Rise” Raskulous tightens his fist and green lightning from the floor overtakes the four warriors who fall to the ground and begin sprouting horns and claws and wings. Their weapons enhance and twist and their armor warps to accommodate their changing forms. Daskres, the king's loyal magister warrior, cracks as he bulges with rotting blood spilling and growing tusks and a protruding distended stomach that splits spilling rotting guts and insects continuously stitching itself back together into a hideous necrotic form that squeals through the twisted rows of razor sharp teeth and a snouted face. Lifting his staff a cowl of obsidian draped across his shoulders and the creature joined the chanting of vestiges, still in a feverish meditation.

The messenger gets away making it to the door not turning back to the sounds of his screaming mutating brothers. Pushing open the crystal door into the shining light of the corridor he screams “CAPTAIN GERIYALD!!”. Down below, the first captain is already readying his weapon and mount after the powerful waves of magic and the sounds of battle moments before.

“WITH ME!!” The captain Geriyald rides his colossal frost salamander up the inner sheer walls of the central chamber of the capital building his fifty foot glave in one hand and the saddle horn in the other. The frost salamander makes light work of the terrain with its eight arms climbing with better speed than expected for such a large creature. Beside Geriyald, frost giants wearing flying armor and other means of ascending the chamber fly towards the top as the blue light shines down from the peak and the sounds of explosions are replaced by inhuman screaming.

At the top, the undead Raskulous stands and processes its surroundings. Not Raskulous, and not the undead god that it was a moment before. It was now something new. Something of both. Hate fills its heart as its skeletal face curls before its breath of entropy. The knowledge of ten thousand years of drifting in darkness overtakes all experience that Raskulous had to contribute. It was Raskulous. Now it was simply Rask and the need to end all life filled its every thought. Lifting its head and letting out a heavy sigh more horns began to grow on its shoulders and armored plates spread to cover some of its exposed areas. It was the barbarian, now it is also the warrior, and a balance was found. This moment of realization of how much the king had changed the undead devil made the creature repulsed by itself, which was reciprocated from its other side, and an unanticipated self-loathing overtook it as it wails and falls to a fetal position sobbing. It claws at its face as its wails become a roar of awakened evil. Memories overtook Rask of undead worlds, conquests of billions of souls damned and consumed in endless agony, and its savored malevolence and gluttony towards the ending of all. And something unbreakable, loyal and true, and with the power to stand before all creation with stern resolve. Rask crawled to its knees and laughed still sobbing spreading its arms and waves of infernal and necrotic power tore at his flesh and shattered the ground around him. 

Udamance looks in horror at his creation falling apart in psychic shock, the king and the devil in conflict threatening to tear themselves in two. “Not now!!” Udamance grabs his staff and sends spectral arms from the floor at the messenger in the doorway. The messenger's legs are taken out beneath him and the body is pulled down. Terrified, he yells and crawls for the edge while his flesh boils and comes off in big decaying chunks at the grasp of spectral arms that push through his armor rusting and rotting it as well. He is able to fall from the crystal platform with his last efforts, seeing his legs and lower armor falling away from him as he descends mostly a spray of viscera into the chamber past the rising Geriyald and the other flying warriors. Udamance turns his staff towards Rask “I am Udamance Neithrigar and I have summoned you here, your will is bound to me!! I command you, turn those who are sworn to you to undeath and lead your armies to Gorthial to fulfill your duty and destroy the enemies of the giant empire!!” The king opens his blue dead eyes and breathes a black smoke his arms still towards the crystal spire and its sense of duty overtook it, the sickly blue light that had overtaken his crown resonates with the crystal peak of the capital building and emanates through the city with a sudden intensity.

Captain Geriyald, near the central chamber hugging the walls on his mount, narrowly avoids the light that strikes other warriors rising to the top. They scream as their bodies begin to change. Loud cracking, shifting, and rebuilding of their flesh and weapons was followed by an imidate lunging strike giving Geriyald little time to respond. An undead ice giant knight attacks for the head of the frost salamander but Geriyald leaped upward out of his saddle to meet the blade that was shifting and growing with infernal magic. The silvery metal of the undead warrior's armor extended into long blades that struck out from the undead mass of limbs and steel. Geriyald summons his shield into his hands which appears in a glittering flash just in time to catch the flurry of blows coming from his former ally. Geriyalds mount, feeling his rider leap from the saddle, snaps at the attacking undead grabbing it by one of the protruding weapons and smashes the knight into the wall. As it fell, the undead knight was able to cut the salamander's face which heals as fast as it was injured. Geriyald finds his footing on a balcony a few floors from the top with no way to proceed without stepping into the light. More screams and intensifying battling can be heard as more undead begin crawling over the railing towards him. Behind him through a window leading to the city already in flames, dark winged figures begin to rise and crawl across the tops of buildings as the undead march on the capital building and the living fight back from the shadows. 

The crawling weaker undead coming over the railing are enveloped in a distorting psychic wave picking them up and throwing them to the side. Captain Orton of the Mentitians levitates above the railing bending the light around himself. Orton sends Geriyald a glimpse into Rask’s mind feeling the chaos and twisted evil within and of him. “There’s no time, I will get you to the top. We must kill Udamance before he takes the city, the necromancer has done this. I see it now, we have all been blind!” Squeezing his fist the pinned small undead office workers crushed like grapes against the ice walls. Geriyald signals to his mount to stay where it is and runs to Orton who levitates him to the upper crystal platform. Orton Bends the light around them in a sphere of twisted fisheyed psychic energy. While Orton steps onto the platform the intense evil and psychic energy of Rask builds to a deafening level. His arms clasp his head and he he falls to his knees crying out “I can't hold, get closer, destroy Udamance, and then kill the king! It's our only chance!” Reaching out his hand Orton envelops Geriyald in a protective field. “I can only give you moments, RUN!”

Geriyald bursts through the doorway, in the center of the chamber the king kneeling holding his hand towards the crystal spire, surrounded by armored barbed devil ice giants formerly of the royal guard, and Udamance holding his staff towards the king trying to hold back the powerful necrotic energies destroying the world around the still awakening Rask, the dead eyes of the ice king shined the light of his devil horned crown of ice as he pointed his sword at Geriyald. “Kill” the words spilled out like a hacking cough as thick black smoke spilled past teeth worn to fang like spikes protruding from its skeletal face. The two barbed devil warriors split to either side of Geriyald, their armor and weapons shifting and mutating ready to attack as the warriors move with incredible speed and dexterity in perfect unison without the need of orders or communication. Geriyald took one last breath to steady himself before his next actions, a gesture and two weapons flashed to his hands with a glittering summons. Throwing both summoned golden glaves at each of the undead attempting to flank his approach, Geriyald summons two shields to his hands and a light of magical power emanates from his chestplate as blasts of fire and lightning come from the undead magister Daskres, seeing Udamance still concentrating on controlling holding Rask together as its entropic power tries to tear apart reality, Geriyald redirects towards him shields at his side in a last and desperate strike.

Orton feels his skull sprout horns and new teeth push outward into a maw of needles as he meets the gaze of the king. More screaming overtakes him as he mentally partitions his experience from his actions trying to maintain focus and protect Geriyalds against the corrupting light while forsaking himself. His mind splits as the tissue of his brain begins to be overtaken and enhanced with necrotic energy. He focuses only on holding up the spell as a dark shadow like a storm of malevolence overtakes him. His shattering thoughts betray him as the bones of his hands contort and grow into long claws, finally his spell fails and the light goes out in his eyes, and a new creature rises. Levitating, its scull splits and grows its wet pulsating brain spilling out and sitting on its shoulders to become wrapped in thin rotting skin. Long gangly arms reach out claws and psychic waves extend for Geriyald to constrain him. 

The two golden glaves parrying blows at his sides, Geriyald is grabbed by psychic chains, his arms and legs are pinned backward as he actives the magic of chestplate. Growing twice as tall, Geriyald filled the chamber and overpowered his restraints. He lets out a deepening roar as he raises his hands summoning his mighty axe which scraped the crystal ceiling as it fell onto Udamance just a few feet away from Rask. Making contact with the ground Geriyald cuts Udamance in half below the shoulders and shatters his staff. An explosion of concussive force from the blow along with the released energy of Rask and the magical release of the shattering staff all throw the gargantuan Geriyald across the room his summoned weapons disappearing as he shrinks back to his normal size.

What was Daskres, holds out trotted hands and through a snouted pig-like face with blue glowing eyes and chants spells of ice that grow over Geriyald. The psychic chains of what was Orton grab hold. Geriyald knew that he was defeated but put up what resistance he could, fighting but fully restrained. More shadows crawl up the windows of the crystal spire and the skies begin to fill with devils and undead. Rask walks off the transformation platform to the dead Udamance. “Your reward.” A wave of Rasks hand and the necromancer is stitched back together and breathes unlife as small horns sprout from his head. Walking to Geriyald who thrashes back and forth against the light, Rask places his hand on his face to watch the last bit of Geriyald pass. “Death becomes the world.” Says Rask to the very last of the world Raskulous had built. Throughout the city a hundred thousand undead rampage through the streets past screaming individuals being dragged into the light, and through the air and across the building towards the waiting ship Frostwake the horde moved with a collective consciousness bent on the consumption of all life. Rask walks and pushes open the doorway to the outer balcony to greet his undead armies. The cacophony of winged devils and horid mutated undead before him Rask calls his first order his crown of domination glowing with coruption behind his devil horns, “TO GORTHIAL!!”