In commemoration of our Round 3 results, a somewhat fractured tale, presented with passion, imbued with darkness and jokes made in poor taste. Behold!
Spoiler for The Tale Begins...:
The encampment at Mount Dusk was writhing with activity. Devourers scurried to and fro with message bound for the border forts, leaving the camp's protective cloak at an alarming rate. In the wilderness, they would be slaughtered, their essences returning to the night, the orders lost. But enough would survive, and the commands would go through. Gargoyles perched upon the ramparts, standing vigil with stony gazes even as the vampires below drilled themselves in formations. Behind them, shadows ascended into the sky, a tower of obsidian imposing its will upon the fortification in the heart of the Realm of Darkness.
It was here where Physsion, Master of Darkness, conducted his winter affairs in relative solitude, sequestered in this tower. For two years, the Elemental Empires had been at War. The armies of Darkness had been relatively successful, claiming victories at every turn. His lieutenants had done well. He himself had bested his counterpart in the Earth Kingdom and an invading army from the Realm of Water. Darkness was strong, and her enemies feared her. But total victory, true victory, had eluded his grasp, his plans thwarted at the last second by some stroke of misfortune twice over. Pondering this, his hands grasped the faded ancient inscription on his desk once more...
Of course! How could he have missed this? He scanned the lines again, brow furrowing as he traced the ancient letters. Yes, Darkness would be unstoppable! He frowned, momentarily. More devourers would have to be sacrificed. Pity.
Hours later, he encoded the final message, and retired for the night. It was time for his nightly vial of liquid shadow, accompanied by the tales of the One RNG...
* *
Origins of the Black Dragon
War had come to the shadow drake's black nest,
Wrought with chaos and wrath in deadly contest.
Twice the flames spread, ringing with light, crackling with roars of rage.
Thrice wings ascended, black as night, rallying to the cry of lightning.
The battle was fierce in the shadow drake's barren nest,
Waged with dragon and flame in terrible contest.
Twice the flames spread, ringing with light, crackling with roars of rage.
Thrice wings ascended, black as night, rallying to the cry of lightning.
The fire was burning in the shadow drake's ashen nest,
The wails of drake-wings chasing in deadly contest.
Thrice wings ascended, black as night, rallying to the cry of lightning.
The thunder fell, crashing upon the smouldering ruins of the land below.
The dragons flew, beating wings upon the rising smoke from the dens below.
The flames withdrew, leaving naught but ash in the shadow drake's nest.
* *
Commentarii Et De Bellis Et De Armis Elementarum
Translation, 6th edition
The time was nigh, and the challenge was to be settled. Whose labour had crafted the better arms? Whose shield could withstand the most blows? Whose spellcraft was the most potent? A gleaming black dagger, imbued with the powers of a Vampire Lord. A glistening fang, whose poison could fell even the mightiest of Dragons. A shield crafted out of the very Shadows themselves, and a wall of ivory, grown with generations of Death. A spell that could drain the very life force of others into oneself, and a ritual sacrifice that could produce a multitude of replicants, each as powerful as the original. Cunning Darkness and Mighty Aether were at war, and only one would emerge victorious. Two soldiers had been selected, pure of heart and strong in body, their minds imbued with elemental vigour. The time was nigh, and the two warriors were eager to start the duel.
The arena was large and grassy, decorated with great fanfare and cheer. On one end, the implements of Darkness stood, shrouding the field. It was here where Aves stood. On the other end, the chosen tools of DeathAether were displayed prominently, symbols of might and pride. Sumtwig07 made his stand there.
As custom dictated, the two champions bowed. Then, they waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And then, something happened. To this day, nobody knows what it was; perhaps a rotten tomato finally found its mark, or an owl emptied its gizzard at just right moment. Regardless, the result was the same; one duelist lost his nerve, and broke out into a run, reaching for his artifacts. A cheeky cheat! The custom broke, and the crowd roared. Each raced for his tools and armaments, his spells and artifacts, knowing that whoever won the race, whoever grasped his chosen tools first, would be victorious...
* *
The Next Day...
Calindu, second in command of the Armies of Darkness, stood upon the balcony. As he looked below, the desert sands slowly crept forwards, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, heralding the approach of enemy forces. Time was approaching, and his preparations were nearly complete. The fortress, once a bastion of Light, had fallen into his influence. The grand sanctuaries and monoliths of the fortress now flew the Great Sigil. The great walls and gardens of the sanctuary lay in the hands of Darkness. Her inhabitants, the remnants of the old garrison, had fled, seeking refuge in the approaching army from Time. Hope had fled the sanctuary, and now they were to be pitted against one another. He smirked. Time was sure to have tricks in its arsenal, and they may very well have outnumbered him 10000 to 1. Poor odds, for poor fools. He was worth two armies, and to send merely one against his lone self was uncharacteristically bold of his enemies. What hubris!
Something poked his leg, and he glanced down. New orders from Physsion? Was he to abandon the place? Surely not, for its capture had been hard earned, the battle fierce, the prize of great worth. Sneering, he drew a dagger, spearing the poor messenger leech... Ah.
ONE RNG TO RULE THEM ALL, ONE RNG TO FIND THEM,
ONE RNG TO BRING THEM ALL, AND IN THE BIND THEM.
* *
The walls surrounding Death's Domain towered above its sullen grey clouds, preventing access from any living being, be they dragon, elemental, or immortal. Erected in the distant past, they stretched beyond the horizon, enveloping the dead kingdom in Death's embrace. Skeletons manned the gates, the large, gaping jawbones of Otyughs creaking with strain as they opened once more to release another army. For two years, General rob77dp had defended his domain, and no attacks had penetrated the mighty walls of bone. To wage war on Death, one would have to do the unthinkable, and breach the unconquered walls.
The Abyssal Lakes Regiment had set up camp three miles from the outer perimeter. Tents were planted, palisades erected, and the vampires were doing their best not to feed on the octopi. The poor things tended to get skittish about that sort of thing. The Regimental Commander, Trashduke, glared at one such offending pair as they eyed one, and they hurriedly went back to their posts. Something poked his leg, and he looked down to see back at a message bearing devourer. "What does the old drunk want now?" he muttered, and crushed it beneath his boot. A wisp of energy boiled out into the air, and he reached out, absorbing the into himself. He blinked.
ONE RNG TO RULE THEM ALL, ONE RNG TO FIND THEM,
ONE RNG TO BRING THEM ALL, AND IN THE BIND THEM.
* *
Elves! Blasted, damned elves! Physsion bit out another curse as another frog jumped on his face. Bah! HOW? How had the dirty sneaks had found their way into HIS tower? Okay, maybe he'd had a little too much liquid shadow last night... and maybe sharing with the garrison gargoyles was a bad idea... OW! The frog had jumped off of his face.The animals were everywhere! Frogs hopping on the ramparts! Cockatrices in the dragon nests! Abominations harassing vampires! Discord and chaos, madness in the halls of Mount Dusk! This was a mess! An insult! A growl escaped as he came upon his desk, littered with graffiti, his office painted in hues of bright pink and lime green.
Enough was enough. A scream rang out, echoing in the tower, permeating into the void and the aether...
"DRAGONS! DEAL WITH THESE INTRUDERS!"
* *
Chrispybacon84 flew past the flames.
Lightning followed in his wake.
* *
Aves dueled, parrying fang with shadow.
His dagger struck bone.
* *
Calindu waited at dusk, and grinned.
His first strike would end it all.
* *
Trashduke patiently plotted the assault.
They charged the walls at dusk.
* *
Physsion wiped frogslime from his face.
There was dragon dung all over the place.
And so it came to be, that RNGeesus Darkness conquered the third round of War, and Physsion had to do more laundry.
ONE RNG TO RULE THEM ALL, ONE RNG TO FIND THEM,
ONE RNG TO BRING THEM ALL, AND IN THE BIND THEM. Edit: Minor update to graffiti. Courtesy of Discord.
