Legacy: Epilogue

Warmaster Death · Oct 20, 2009

Musical Score: Act of God - Fear Factory

The skies had darkened in the past five minutes as the survivors hobbled and limped towards the Apokritan queen, the atmosphere seemed to reflect that of the survivors, their hope and determination reflected against the dark sky by bright flashes of lightning and the booming roar of thunder.

Uriel noticed little of this, his eyes focused solely on the monsterous Queen Halictadel, her multilimbed bulk blocking their path to the gate
"why can it never be easy" Uriel muttered darkly to himself, albe now to shamble forwards after the others, though his feet and legs burned like he had run several hundred kilomitres in seconds, his entire body felt like a lump of lead, but the Sergeant pushed on, he had to, Sura and the others needed him to be at his best, or as close to his best as he could be in his present state.

Uriel looked around him at the bloody ruins of the Apokritan swarm that had been cut down by the ISAF, and spared Lamord's blast, a greenish black soul light emenating from the bloodied chunks of man and creature.
Uriel grinned as he slung his assault rifle and reached out to the lights, which leaped into his hands and sunk into his flesh.
Uriel stood like this for a few moments before the burning sensation in his arms and legs began to fade, they began to shake less.
after a minute, the sensation had gone, replaced by an energetic feeling, like Uriel had rested well and his limbs were streached and ready for soem form of excersize.

much of the Corpse light still remained, and Uriel drew this to him as well, sending it to his comrades, healing them of their wounds and empowering them slightly, they would be able to move as fast and with as much agility as they had ever been able to, and Uriel still drew in more energy, and as the others moved forwards, this energy coalesced into a a swirling sphere of necromantic energy, tendrils of black flame licking the corpses around Uriel, which withered and decayed at the touch.

soon the shpere had become bigger than Uriel and with a gutteral roar of dark words and phrases, Uriel directed the wnergy at Halictadel and with an ethereal scream, the sphere unravelled like a ball of string, a thick strand of energy speeding towards Halictadel like a blast from a flamethrower, though it looked to the survivors as it passed overhead to twist and turn slightly, like a snake slithering across the sky.

at last, as the front edge of the strand touched The Apokritan Queen's front limbs the last vestiges of it left Uriel's hands, and the Necromancer Sergeant sprinted as fast as he could towards the others, now some way across the bridge in front of him, unslinging his Carbine rather awkwardly as he did so.

Uriel realises that he can use the corpses and soul energy of the dead Aorkitans and ISAF soldiers to not only heal and rejuvenate himself and the other survivors, but also create a massive surge of necromantic energy, which he sends at Halictadel, his aim to weaken and rot her flesh enough that the weapons of the survivors can injure and hopefully kill her.
the blast of energy looks rather like a gout of flame spat from a flamethrower, though it seems to imitate the slithering of a snake.

Asmodeus · Oct 22, 2009

THE BRIDGE...

The Apocritakan Queen screeched as the dark energy hit and reared back its 60ft body. But the Necromantic serpents shackled her and slammed her to the ground once more. And as Uriel advanced, Aimi flew overhead, slicing at the creature's face with her sword. Sozrosse was not far behind, a swift run bringing her to the Queen's flanks where she hacked with the burning blade of Isodath. As the two women fought with all their might, Uriel's carbine opened up, tearing breaches in the Queen's armoured hide.

Behind them, Grant fell down beside Alex, who pulled him close, propping him against an insect carapace along with the unconscious Sura. "Are you injured?"

"Just a scratch," grunted the Doctor, clutching the wound on his shin.

Alex glanced over Grant's shoulder, back to where the heart of Iwaku was being ripped apart. "Is... is anyone else coming?"

Grant gasped for breath, even as he shook his head. "I'm the last..."

Then they both screamed as a thunderous voice cleaved through their minds like a knife. Aimi reeled in the air and Uriel stumbled, whilst Sozrosse clutched her head, trying to block out the piercing psychic scream of Halictadel.

"My children will be avenged!"

The great length of the creature's body whipped around, knocking Sozrosse to the floor. And as it turned, a savage row of spines extended from its back, slicing into the air. Aimi was caught, her leg skewered like a piece of meat. She dropped her sword, screamed, and fell from the sky as the spine retracted.

"Aimi!" yelled Uriel, even as he struggled to stand.

"NO!" Alex's mind pushed back against the psychic scream. The boy lunged to his feet and held out his hand, forcing his telekinesis through the barriers of pain and exhaustion. Aimi's plummet was cut short, her body slowing to the graceful descent of a feather, and then Alex collapsed, falling back into Grant's arms.

The Queen reared up again, its 60ft shadow falling over Uriel. Seven rows of teeth glinted in the murderous skies, and then like a snake it lunged. Uriel closed his eyes...

...then snapped them open again as gunfire tore from the left. The Queen's head was struck, throwing the jaws away just inches from Uriel's body. It reared back and turned, screeching at the newcomers.

From a great mound of Apocritakan corpses at the edge of the bridge, Commandant Ryker emerged in blood-soaked glory, a machete clamped in his hand and glinting white like his teeth and eyes. Other shapes emerged from the smoke around him - the battered metal forms of Leadfoot and Desolator, Beach Head and Road Rage dragging heavy machine guns, an equally gore-soaked Pliskin, Venom in full werewolf form, and Goleb, dragging an injured Markhor.

"ROUND TWO, BITCH!" screamed Ryker at the top of his lungs.

"HOOHAH!" echoed his grizzled troops.

And then the last charge of the ISAF began. Under heavy cover fire from Road Rage and Beach Head, Ryker sprinted towards the Queen with Pliskin and the Mechaliths, laying into her carapace with knives, cutting blades and bayonets. Venom, meanwhile, circled the beast and pulled Sozrosse clear.

"You got a bug problem, Maam?"

"Really not the time," grunted Sozrosse.

With a shrug, Venom bounded onwards, his werewolf claws digging into Halictadel as he scaled her side. The Queen flailed, tentacles and spines stabbing at the swarming humans, but to no avail. Her eyes were being blinded by the heavy fire of the gunners, and every cut from the assault team immobilized her further. As she reared away, Goleb and Markhor limped in and got a hold under each of Aimi's arms, dragging the Neko-Jin clear.

"NOOOOOO!"

The second scream was ten-fold the power of the first. Ryker and Pliskin dropped, blood streaming from their ears, whilst Venom tumbled down the Queen's body and hit the ground. The heavy fire was cut short and everyone else went prone, assailed by waves of psychic agony.

Only Leadfoot and Desolator remained standing, staring up into the gaping jaws of the Queen.

Leadfoot turned to his fellow mechalith, disengaging his sword and lasers, priming his explosive vest. "Get me up there," rasped his mechanical voice.

Desolator looked back for a moment, then nodded, "Goodbye, brother."

And with that, Desolator stooped and seized Leadfoot by the legs, enacting an old and familiar tactic for the last time. With a powerful spin, Desolator lifted Leadfoot off the ground and swung him up into the air. The Mechalith whirled, bringing in his arms and legs to form the perfect trajectory. He smashed through the first few rows of Halictadel's teeth and struck the back of her throat. Darkness closed in... and was then replaced by fire.

As Leadfoot's suicide vest triggered, the muffled explosion shattered the Queen's skull, showering brain and carapace over the survivors and leaving only a smoking stump. Halictadel's body hovered for a moment before slamming down onto the ground and bringing the psychic scream to an end.

"Did ah say yew could rest?" bellowed Ryker as he climbed back to his feet, dripping in blood and dirt. Waving his gore-soaked machete around, he started barking orders. "We're taking the Mogadishu Mile, straight to heaven, people!"

The ISAF were more like machines now, running on pure instinct and unconscious drills. Goleb slapped a field dressing on Aimi's shattered leg, tying it in a few seconds before Desolator stooped and picked the Neko-Jin up. He then went back to supporting Markhor. Meanwhile, Venom growled at Alex and Grant to get out of the way, before likewise picking up Sura. Road Rage and Beach Head were close behind, ditching their guns and taking up positions either side of Alex and Grant.

"Pliskin, on point!" ordered Ryker. Pliskin, now pure crimson from head to toe, nodded and began hacking a route through the Queen's bloated corpse.

"Are yew Acolytes grateful for us yet?" muttered Ryker as he helped Uriel to his feet.

Uriel managed a smile as he fell into a jog beside the commandant. "I think... at last... you've earned our respect."

"Move!" shouted Sozrosse, who lingered at the rear as the others began running. The flaming light of her sword revealed the bridge behind them, falling away into a great abyss of fire and darkness. Iwaku was collapsing, its crust cracking apart and its atmosphere evaporating.

"DOUBLE TIME!" roared Ryker above the apocalypse. The fourteen survivors of the Legacy squeezed every last ounce of strength into their bodies and began the mile run towards the Gates of Sanctuary.

[SUMMARY: The ISAF return to help the survivors destroy the Apocritakan Queen. In the fight, Aimi is heavily injured and Leadfoot sacrifices himself to suicide-bomb the Queen. There are now only fourteen survivors, and Ryker orders them to start running for Sanctuary as the world around them falls apart.]

Asmodeus · Oct 22, 2009

THE WATERFALL...

His body broken, his wing cut off, his every hope beset by pain.... Lamord lay upon the edge of the waterfall. He could not tell how far he had fallen, but his body was numb, a coldness that could only mean terrible shock and internal haemorrhage.

He awoke to the sound of water crashing over the edge of Iwaku and spiralling into the inferno... and to the sound of sensuous laughter.

"Foolish little bird," chuckled Semyaza, moving closer with his infernal lance at the ready. "Did you really think you would leave with the others? Come now, that's not the way of angels. It is our part to be sacrificed, you should know that."

The old flames of hatred flared inside Lamord. He rolled over onto hands and knees, coughing up blood, and crawled towards the blade of Casepheny that had fallen nearby. The shallow waters rushed around him, dropping off the edge of the world.

"Not that it matters, anyway," continued Semyaza, following his old enemy across the shallows. "Because you see... your precious Sergeant Daryl has doomed you all."

Lamord peered across the draining lake. He could just make out the shapes of the Legacy survivors, sprinting through the gauntlet of destruction towards the shining pillar of Sanctuary's Gate. And further back, the burning skies caught upon the silhouette of the ruined ships.

"But don't worry," said Semyaza as he readied his lance, "You'll be dead before that happens, Lamord. For there is nothing left now but you and me." He pointed the lance at his enemy. "You stole my ship."

Lamord reached beneath the water and took hold of the sword of Casepheny. "You stole everything!" he answered and then with a shout he spun to his feet, striking with the blade. Semyaza parried and forced Lamord back.

The two angels moved along the edge of the great waterfall, exchaging savage blows as the sky burned.

"You still don't understand!" snarled Semyaza as he brought Lamord the ground with a brutal kick. "I built the Three Ships so we could find something - a power. And we found it. We found despair and misery. For after all, that is the true power of Iwaku. Only when we are despairing, only when there is calamity do we truly come alive! The Dark Gods understood this... the Dark Shards of Paorou-Sama, the Crimson One, the first Rift Storm."

Lamord got back to his feet, inches from the tip of Semyaza's lance.

"The blood of the universe is screams and tears," smiled the demon. "And you are a fool to stand against this power."

"Then what power is it, after all..." whispered Lamord, "If I can still stand...?"

His foot moved, throwing up a great wave of water mixed with his own blood. It struck Semyaza's eyes, and he staggered blindly as Lamord knocked the lance from his hands. He slashed a shallow wound across Semyaza's chest and then struck wide, cleaving off a wing just as Semyaza had done. The demon roared in pain and was brought to the ground with a mighty splash.

It was over.

Gasping for breath, Lamord stood over the unarmed and one-winged Semyaza. He held the blade of Casepheny in both hands, and lifted it for the killing blow.

"It was always my ship!"

He swung and the blade struck home, tearing through flesh and bone, impaling the body with a dull thump.

Semyaza's laughter filled his ears again.

Lamord stumbled, coming down to his knees, breathless, his mouth hung open in shock.

He had stabbed himself.

He looked down at the sword, his hands still wrapped around the hilt, even as the blade pierced his own stomach.

It had twisted in mid-air, swinging against his will, impaling its own master.

The sword flowed out, leaving a gaping wound in Lamord's stomach as it reverted to angelic form. Lamord looked up, trembling, speechless, as Casepheny stood over him, resplendent in whitest robes.

"I'm sorry," whispered her perfect voice. "I can't let you kill him... I..." There was tears in her beautiful eyes. "I love him."

The despair came like a crushing meteor, slamming into his shoulders and head. Lamord dropped to one side, clutching his wound, half-buried in the rushing waters. And with deepest heartache he watched as Casepheny turned and helped Semyaza up, her hands on his face and torso, her body close to his.

They kissed as Lamord bled, and he did not have the strength to scream.

"Casepheny," whispered Semyaza as he ran his hands down her back, over the curve of her buttocks and thighs.

"I'm yours," she whispered back to him. "Even when he bound me, I was always yours."

They pressed their foreheads together, breathing each other in. Semyaza's hand ran up her stomach, resting over her heart. "Then allow me, my love... allow me to release you..."

His treacherous hand swooped upwards, striking Casepheny with full-force across the face. She cried out, stumbling as she was released from his embrace. Her footing gave way in the water, and she toppled over the edge of the waterfall.

"Nooo!" yelled Lamord, twisting on the ground and lunging out over the precipice. He grabbed her hands as she fell, and she swung down, slamming against the wall of rock. One hand slipped, but Lamord kept hold with the other, his beloved dangling beneath him.

"Lam... Lamord..." gasped Casepheny. The water was rushing around her as she hung there, apocalyptic winds mauling her body. She looked up in wide-eyed terror, begging him to hold on.

"Ours names are everything," said Semyaza from behind them, as if he were passing a final sermon. "LAM-ORD... The Path of Death. Everyone you touch... dies. Yours was always the fated path, and your little Casepheny was no exception. What use have I for love, when I can rather use her to ripen your ripen your final screams?"

The world had come full circle. Here Lamord was again, holding Casepheny by one hand on a fatal precipice. The last time, she had fallen, deep into the chamber where the Legacy was buried.

But this time... this time he would hold her... he would save her, despite all her betrayals and all the heartache she had wrought.... he would save her this time.

Semyaza casually picked up his lance and turned back towards Lamord as he hung over the edge. "Time to bring your misery to an end..."

"Lamord..." whimpered Casepheny, looking up into the angel's eyes. "Let me go..."

"Nooo!" snarled Lamord, his hand dripping with blood and water as he tried to hold her.

"You have to..." she whispered. "You have to let me go."

She slid further, till they were only holding each other by fingetips. The shadow of Semyaza fell over them as the demon placed his legs either side of Lamord's body.

"Goodbye Lamord" he said as he lifted the lance in both hands.

"I..." Lamord looked down into Casepheny's beautiful face. "I love you."

His hand released.

She fell.

Lamord rolled over onto his back.

And in the same instant the light of the Rift Storm Void illuminated the sky. And Lamord saw it... the sword that was falling from the heavens. He held out his hand... the same hand that had just released his beloved, and caught the whirling, red-hot blade.

He struck, cleaving through Semyaza's thigh in a single strike and removing the leg. Semyaza screamed and toppled forwards, falling over the edge of the waterfall and into the abyss. He followed Casepheny into darkness, his one wing flailing in vain as oblivion swallowed him.

Lamord lay upon the edge of the waterfall, clutching the mysterious sword, and as the screams of Semyaza faded there was only the gentle rushing of water and the low rumble of the disintegrating world.

She was gone... and he was dying...

With a painful breath he lifted himself slightly and peered at the ornate blade that had dropped from the skies and into his hand.

"Like ye always said, Cap'n," spoke the voice of Tel'Nein, "An angel's sword will surely find it's master."

For the first time in months, and despite all things... Lamord laughed.

[SUMMARY: At the edge of the great waterfall, Lamord and Semyaza have their final duel. Lamord overpowers Semyaza and is about to kill him when he is betrayed by his own sword and dealt a fatal wound. Casepheny takes angelic form and confesses that she loved Semyaza all along. But as she goes to reunite with him, Semyaza strikes her and knocks her off the waterfall. In a tragic repeat of history, Lamord grabs her by one hand, but Casepheny tells her to let him go. Eventually he lets go, rolling over just as Void lights up the sky. He catches a sword that falls from space and uses it to kill Semyaza. Finally, as Lamord lays dying and alone on the edge of the waterfall, the sword is revealed as the blade-form of Tel'Nein, who was believed lost in the space-battle.]

Asmodeus · Oct 22, 2009

THE TORMENT...

"Well now, that was entertaining," said Raife as he walked past the panting form of Daryl and returned towards his throne. "Pity we have to end it so soon."

Daryl lifted himself up on his hands, blood trickling from his mouth. He watched as Raife reached behind his throne and drew out a long broadsword. The hilt and guard was forged in the style of snakes, devouring their own tails. "Ever since I let you escape, I've been itching to use this. The finest blade of the Dark Gods."

Daryl came up onto his knees, taking up his sword once more. But his strength was exhausted and a part of him accepted his fate as Raife turned with the blade.

But then a voice spoke out from the corner of the chamber.

"Our sword is better."

Raife paused, lowering the blade, and Daryl followed his gaze to the entranceway of the bridge, where three familiar figures stood.

"The Ally and the Trickster, I come." said Jameson, stepping down the stairs and onto the floor of the bridge.

"The Mentor and the Guardian, I join him." added Daryl's father, shimmering in his battle armour.

"And the Shapeshifter and the Herald, I hold close." finished Angela, moving out around the circumference of the chamber.

"Trying to kill me with poetry?" asked Raife, but his smile dropped as Daryl's three friends spoke again in unison.

"We the trinity bless the shadowed hero with the grace of the Counter Guardian."

Jameson, Angela and Daryl's father blurred into celestial light, streaming from the edges of the chamber and in towards Daryl. He felt their energy strike his sword, twisting it and expanding it with layer after layer of light.

Raife lunged forward with his own blade, striking at Daryl's neck as he knelt. But he was too late.

With a choral clash of metal, Daryl blocked with the luminate sword, smashing Raife's blade aside. The Knight came up onto his feet and he brought both hands into the backswing, slicing open Raife's chest and shoulders.

The Torment's captain fell back in the haze of light and Daryl was left standing upright, a new and majestic sword gripped in his hands.

Ragnarok read the celestial runes that adorned the blade. Daryl lowered it slowly, feeling the insurmountable energy that wreathed the weapon. Every muscle seemed to reknit itself in his body, stronger than ever before, while the pain was replaced with burning zeal. His fortitude returned and he stepped towards Raife, who was slumped against the foot of his throne.

"In the name of the Legacy," said Daryl, "Go back to hell."

He lifted the golden blade of Ragnarok and prepared to bring it down upon the head of the wounded captain.

But then something stopped him... something that was not the demons, nor the fires of the Rift Storms... not the guns of the ships nor the hand of exhaustion... It was something simple... something pure.

"Daddy?"

With the blade held in the air, Daryl looked up, to the command deck overlooking the throne. He saw the small hands clutching the railing, the small face looking down at him with helpless tears.

He saw Raife's final trick.

"It's alright, Rosa-May," said Raife to his daughter. "The monster's not gonna hurt me."

Daryl's arm faltered and Raife grinned up at him through bloodstained teeth. "Do you see now, Daryl? Do you understand why you have doomed everyone?"

There was a small whimper as Rosa-May began crying.

"You see, we never needed to kill you all. All we needed... was one more Rift Storm. A Storm greater than anything before. Look at her, Daryl..."

Daryl's eyes lifted again, taking in the features of the innocent girl.

She is the youngest soul in the universe now. I have raised her... I have loved her... and kept her safe from the monsters in the night. I have built a world around her that is safe and magical. I am her father...

"Daddy... please!"

"I am all she has... all she has ever known. And if she were to lose me, her despair would give birth to the greatest storm that has ever lived, and even Sanctuary itself would be torn apart."

Raife shifted his wounded body, hauling himself up into the seat of the throne with a painful grunt. Rosa-May's sobs responded to his every grimace. "So go ahead, Daryl Ragnor. Strike me down before her eyes. Then tell her what happened to her mother. See if she can understand you... see if she will listen to reason, when you are but a monster and I am everything. Slaughter her parents, then try to tell her everything will be alright."

He leaned back into the throne, fully at the mercy of the vengeful knight as he lit up his final cigar.

"Or can you strike her down instead of me... kill the child who would birth the Rift Storm. You'd have to do it quickly, before she can scream, before she can even understand that she is about to die. But what then of your own conscience? Will you not despair just as greatly... and what place will there be in heaven for one who butchers a child...?"

"Daddy..." wept Rosa-May, slumping against the railing in helpless tears as she watched the monster standing over her father.

"Daddy..." echoed Raife in a devilish whisper, his face in the shadow of Daryl's blade as he smoked. "What's going to happen? Why does it have to be this way? Where is the one who's supposed to save me? These are the questions that have driven the voyage of the Legacy. So answer them Daryl... give this child her answer."

[SUMMARY: Daryl's comrades are revealed as the component's of Ragnarok, a sword sent by the Angel Chaos to aid Daryl in his darkest hour. With the blade, Daryl wounds Raife and stands ready to execute him. But then Raife's daughter appears on the bridge, and Daryl realises the final terrible dilemma that Raife has constructed... a dilemma that could spell the entire doom of the Legacy survivors and Sanctuary itself. The fate of all things now rests in Daryl's hands.]

Delnoir · Oct 23, 2009

"....."

Power pulsed through the sword in Daryl's hand. So this was it? It would end with Raife trying to drag him down to his level again? Doing exactly what he planned? Tricked all this time. As his grip tightened and he raised the blade time stopped like it did on the Legacy before the fight.

"Daryl."

"Chaos!"

The world around him was black and white. The only people colored were Daryl and Chaos.

"Chaos, what am I supposed to do? Where did all this power come from!? What the hell is this sword!? Why did your plan end like this!? Where's Jameson!? My Father!? ...Angela?"

Chaos sat down in a ruined chair and threw his duster at Daryl's feet.

"That sword is, or at least was, once called Ragnarok. Thousands of years ago when Rory died, I fought for a long brutal year against the remnants of Paorou's forces. When finally cornered my knights and I used my ship the Sapphire to go into space until I could live to battle again, on even ground with the Sword of Iwaku. Raife became...a variable in that plan."

Daryl looked at his sword as Chaos explained. The vibrant gold and blue hilt had turned gold and red.

"Its...adapting?"

"Yes. When I left Iwaku, I left behind a golden sphere. Ragnarok's two halves. Light and Dark. The Light I left on Iwaku, the Dark I tossed into the gap between worlds once I learned of Raife's power knowing I could not defeat him. When you obtained the dark half, your world was consumed, and you landed in Rift Town, that was the start of the end. And you met the light."

At this time, power warped out of the sword and reformed into Jameson, Angela, and Leonard.

"Guys! You mean they're-"

"No. Not they're not. Jameson, c'mere."

The mechanic walked over to Chaos and sat down beside him. He looked to Daryl and shrugged.

"Sorry I had to decieve you. It was the only way."

"Wait...then you...that's why Semyaza couldn't control you! Light incarnate! Then, what about-?"

"I just borrowed the power of Angie and your Dad until I could readapt to the sword. Once this lapse in time ends, they'll be with you. I will not."

"So why did you do all this?"

"To bind you to the remnants of the cycle at the last moment! To give you the power to defeat Raife!"

"What about Raife's last trick?"

"Well Daryl. What do you think?"

"I.....I'm sick of playing his games. But what can I do!?"

"Simple. What do you do in a sport when one cannot play?"

".....!!!"

"Yes. You exchange players. You wanted to defeat Raife. And you have done so! Thus I bestow upon you the first of my rewards. Touch my duster before you."

Daryl knelt down and looked at the black duster. He looked over at Angela, a confused look on his face. She smiled and held back a laugh.

"What are you waiting for you dimwit? Go on."

When Daryl placed his hand onto the coat, his armor burst into magical essence and sunk into it before reappearing around Daryl's body. When he looked up, Chaos was before him, holding Ragnarok.

"In my name, I dub thee a Knight of Iwaku. You are a Death Knight no more. You are a force that lies between light and darkness. Rise, Daryl Ragnor."

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bATMzx9Yrsw"]YouTube - "Libera Me" From Hell[/ame]

Chaos tapped each of Daryl's shoulders with the blade. When he stood, Chaos handed Daryl the sword back.

"That duster is your armor now. The magic, the protection, all of it within that coat. With it, the hallowed sword I created thousands of year ago. When Iwaku answered my plea and let me fuse my old sword Lighting Seal with the legendary Banishing Blade it came at a cost. The Cycle made me its counter guardian for all eternity. To protect the world meant doing whatever it took, no matter what it did against my morals. I know not heaven or hell, for I am in eternal purgatory until the world needs me again. I died thousands of years ago only to be summoned back through the cycle. This world, at the brink of destruction, I only have one final chance to atone. You Daryl Ragnor."

"How am I supposed to help you atone!?"

"When time resumes, you will know. Daryl. You may not get what you want. You won't be sung as a hero everlasting. But that's not what you truly wanted is it? What you wanted was to not lose anyone anymore. You may have that wish now Daryl.

As time began to resume, Chaos began to fade and Jameson began to shine golden as he began to return to Ragnarok.

"I'm sorry it came to this Daryl. Its been an honor being your friend."

A small smile crossed Daryl's face.

"I'm never going to see you again am I?"

"No. But so long as you hold that sword, my power will always be with you...Goodbye, Daryl."

"Goodbye, Jameson."

The two friends had time for one final handshake and he disappeared. Leonard quietly stood to the side, a solemn look on his face. Anglea cried quietly next to Daryl. At that moment, time resumed and Raife's taunting voice filled the room.

"Well what are you waiting for, Daryl Ragnor? Choose.

After a long silence, Daryl smiled and looked up.

"Well Raife, you did it. You've put me in a choice I cannot make, but at the same time have to make. I won't play your game anymore."

Daryl looked up, gripped the sword, and threw it past Raife and Rosa, as it lodged itself into the wall.

"Then you doom your friends."

"You misunderstand, Raife. I refuse to choose to save the world because saving the world isn't my job. Its his."

Daryl pointed behind Raife just in time to see Chaos drive Ragnarok into the brain of Rosa-May, the sword exiting through her jaw, killing the girl. She never saw it coming being so focused on Raife. Chaos' face was emotionless as he looked at the captain of the Torment.

"Because he's not the counter guardian of Iwaku. I am.

Raife's face contorted in rage.

"YOU! WHEN DID YOU-!?"

"Pretty easy to sneak in...when you're so focused on Daryl.

Raife yelled in rage and lunged at Chaos with the last of his strength only to see too late what was behind Chaos. Swords. At least twenty of them. Chaos threw the bloody Ragnarok back to Daryl, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers. What came next sounded like cannons firing.

The swords came down, but in a way unexpected. They were easily dodged normally, even in Raife's condition. But he was lunging at Chaos...who had fired the swords through himself. Every sword that pierced Chaos followed through and impaled Raife, pinning him to the ground to take all the other swords that came after them. There was no longer any escape. Chaos had doomed himself to trap Raife. As Chaos collapsed to the ground his body fading, returning to the space the remnants of cycle would put him, he looked to Daryl.

"The sword...is yours now...It is Rangarok no...more...choose...its new...name..."

Chaos hit the floor and his body faded out of existance, his final role as a counter guardian finally complete. Daryl picked up the sword and walked over to the pinned Raife, looking down upon him. He raised the sword which glowed with a golden light and spoke.

"I am Daryl Ragnor. In the name of the Knights of Iwaku, I sentence you to death."

He raised the sword above his head, cried out the swords new name...

"LEGACY: BLADE OF THE KNIGHTS OF IWAKU!!!"

...and brought it down into Raife's skull. The killing blow. Daryl sheathed and turned to leave with Leonard and Angela, stopping to turn back briefly.

"...The nightmare...is finally over. Thank you, Chaos. Thank you for giving me my life back."

Daryl walked off the bridge of the Torment with his father and lover to rejoin his friends.

[Summary: At a loss, Daryl panics. Chaos intervenes and stops time to finally elaborate his plan to Daryl. As Iwaku's counter guardian, he split Ragnarok into light and dark, leaving the dark half to be found by a worthy person. Daryl was that person. The plan was to let Daryl recover the light of Ragnarok, Jameson, and bind him to it to bind the remaining fragments of the cycle in Iwaku. This gave Daryl the power to achieve his goal of defeating Raife. Having done so, Chaos dubs Daryl a Knight of Iwaku and asks that he helps him atone for all the people he'd killed over the years as a counter guardian.

After saying his goodbye to Jameson, whom he would never see again, time resumes. After being mocked by Raife, Daryl throws Ragnarok away, refusing to play his game. This however was nothing more than a way to get Ragnarok to Chaos, who snuck in during the inital fight, to quickly kill Rosa-May with one swift, undetectable action. He then sacrifices himself by firing his swords through his own body to pierce and pin Raife. His final instruction to Daryl is to rename Ragnarok. Settling with the name Legacy, Daryl approaches Raife and brings the new sword down into Raife's skull, dealing the killing blow. He turns to leave with Angela and his father to rejoin his friends, thanking Chaos for giving him his life and declaring that the nightmare has finally ended.]

Blind Hemingway · Oct 23, 2009

"Because of a few who are righteous, the Creator promises to keep things going in continuity from season to season and year to year." Sozrosse kept thinking to herself.

Her mind summed it up this way, "There is but one condition and that is the human condition." What hardship and suffering simply boiled down to was that it opened eyes.

Sozrosse's eyes had become open, for she was no longer merely a fleshie computer. For once in her supernatural filled life, she knew what it was like to feel true hope and hardship. As Paul had made notice during her battle against Nine Days for being an immortal Sozrosse still had a very human spirit to her.

She had never lost her humanity, it had been merely hidden under layers up layers
of knowledge. Since the ISAF soldiers had proven themselves worthy by making the ultimate sacrifice to let others live, she knew that now more than ever showing emotion was important. This was the last noble act in the history of this complex epic.

Sozrosse continued the run on the bridge, by this point there wasn't much else she could do. Taking a quick glance back, whatever remained of the Apocritakan hive was now falling deep into the pits behind them. She had no reason to look back now.

"Come on guys, we've been through hell and back. Let's show whoever on the other side that we are the ones that came there and back again." She said.

The red haired woman pointed Isodath forward, its light acting as a beacon guiding her friends home.

A Little Patch of Blue:

The sage reminded sitting reading a heavy leather bound book. She was smoking an ancient pipe filled with sage, a plant of prayers.

The skies above this being were calm with only a handful of white clouds breaking up the endless sea of blue. She now laid down on her back to look up at the sky. Above her stood her unimpressive house in the middle of a field surrounded by massive windmills.

"Coffee, make yourself presentable. We maybe having guests soon again." She then mentioned after hearing the door open.

"I see."

He then raised an eyebrow, "You know that we didn't get involved other than arming my student. I must say I am somewhat disappointed; especially for how flamboyant you used to be." Coffee said.

"C'est la vie, C'est la vie." The sage responded, "Sozzie got her fancy sword to kill bugs so she could do something other than being bland. I hope. Hrmm...Look at this way; I saved you from getting impaled from a large pointy stick. Because between you and me, having one shoved up your brain freaking hurts."

The sage then went back to looking at the endless sea of sky.

Asmodeus · Oct 23, 2009

This was it... the final collapse. The Cycle was stalling, the great gears that had driven every moment of the universe shattering apart.

On the edges of the firestorm, gravity was collapsing and sending chunks of the planet's core tumbling upwards. And amongst the burning skies black holes were ripping space and time apart.

Daryl, Angela and Leonard stumbled clear of the Legacy as the ground beneath it gave way. With a thunderous crash the ship tumbled into fire and darkness. But it did not fall... instead it hovered amid the abyss, streams of darkness and crimson energy snaking around it. They could hear screams... Raife's... Paorou-Sama's... all of the Dark Gods writhing in unison. As everything else disintegrated the ship remained like a floating cancer, perverting the streams of time and space.

The bridge had already gone, and the lake had boiled away. Stranded on a single chunk of fracturing rock, the three survivors clung to each other.

"There!" yelled Daryl, pointing to the edge of precipice, where a single sword had been lodged in the stone.

The final gift of the Angel Chaos.

"Grip the hilt!" he shouted, and as fire and debris rained around them they clambered across the rock and each placed their hand on the hilt of the buried blade. Eldritch forces assailed them, throwing their bodies through the ether between the gauntlets of fire and calamity. Then with a painful thump they landed, each of their bodies rolling across the steaming ground a mile away... at the other end of the bridge.

Daryl landed on his back, staring up at the Gates of Sanctuary. And as he lifted himself, he saw the silhouettes of the other survivors, sprinting across the collapsing bridge. The entire planet crumbled behind them, leaving only the Legacy, floating in a universe-wide inferno, and the small ledge of rock and waterfall that lay before the Pathway.

Everything seemed to slow, as time itself was slaughtered by the million black holes above. Daryl helped Angela and Leonard up, then reached out his hand, catching Sozrosse as she collapsed from exhaustion. The others dropped around them... Uriel, Sura, Aimi, Grant, Alex, and the blood-soaked remnants of the ISAF.

The survivors edged closer to the Gate as the ground behind them fell away. They were now perched on barely a foot of rock between the Gate and the Abyss.

And over mile away, Lamord lay edge on the edge of the waterfall, a serene peace settling upon his face as he felt the ground give way.

It was over. He had done all that he could, and dared so much more. Pressing the Sword of Tel'Nein against his bleeding torso, the angel closed his eyes as the waterfall collapsed.

Down he would go... after Semyaza and Casepheny... spiralling with them through all Oblivion.

He dropped.

A hand grabbed his.

With a violent arrest he jolted awake again, looking up at the figure standing on the edge of the waterfall, holding him by one hand. It was a dark-haired man, coated, a red scarf around his mouth and neck.

"As your advisor, I recommend NOT falling," said Paul, hoisting Lamord back up onto the ledge. The angel tightened his grip, throwing up the sword and using his other hand to pull himself up with the Disciple's help.

"I thought you were lost..."

"I had a demon to take care of," replied Paul as he pulled the angel clear of the precipice.

Lamord's weak grip tightened again around Tel'Nien, while his other hand showed the blood from his stomach wound. "You're too late, old friend."

"Spare me the martyred angel act," muttered Paul as he pulled Lamord up and slung his arm across his shoulder, "You'll see Sanctuary yet." He supported the angel as they began moving. "Besides, Lost Ones are never late."

The two of them slipped and stumbled along the edge of the waterfall, closer to the Gate with every step, the ground behind them falling away with each passing second.

Paul glanced to the side as they moved, eyeing the distant shape of the Legacy, twisting with the rage of the Dark Gods. "An angel has died there..."

"Yes..." whispered Lamord, "Chaos.... I felt it."

"But it's not enough... there's still one part of the Cycle broken."

"I know... and I understand it now..."

Lamord stopped himself, refusing to be pulled any further. Paul watched the angel as he turned and shouted out into the abyss. "VOID!"

Like a birthing star, the light lifted from the abyss, a single raging Rift Storm turning its eye towards them.

"Captain..." answered the voice, like the deepest rumble of the oceans, the cry of the wind.

The angel came down onto his knees at the edge of the waterfall, gasping from breath. And even as he bled he looked up into the heart of the storm, his voice sounding over the end of time.

"It's you, Void... it was always you! The final part of the Cycle."

"I do not understand..."

"You are the First Rift Storm. You are where it all began." The angel's bleeding hand lifted towards the Legacy. "The Dark Gods... they are the parts of a single man... Paorou-Sama... the one who broke this universe. His despair... his bitterness... his hatred... it caused the fracture in the Cycle... it tore out a piece of the machinery."

He reached out, trying to touch the edges of the Storm. "It's you, Void. You are the part that was torn out! You' are the Anomaly that was caused!"

The Rift Storm hung there silently, saying nothing. Lamord's eyes were stung by smoke, streaming tears as he tried to explain.

"That is why your Creator trapped you. That is why you were hidden on the Legacy. And that is why you have felt so alone in this life. But don't you see... Void... this was your test..."

"Test..."

"You are part of him... the last part that seeks redemption. He was a man, who had to learn about the Rift Storms... and you are a Rift Storm who has to learn about us! You were born in despair, Void... but please... please... it doesn't have to end like this!"

More of the ridge collapsed into darkness and Paul moved in, picking Lamord up again. The angel went with him this time, but kept his eyes on Void, shouting out across the space between them.

"Renounce your nature, Void! From despair become hope! Turn night to day and omega to alpha! You can do it! Think of us... all that we have taught you... all that we have loved. Mend the Cycle!"

[SUMMARY: Daryl, Angela and Leonard use a teleportation spell to cross to the Gate, where they meet up with the other survivors. All of Iwaku has now collapsed, save for the tiny ridge around the Gate. Meanwhile, Lamord is rescued by Paul the Disciple, who seems to have conquered the demon within himself. He helps Lamord to get moving, but Lamord stops to call out to Void. He tells the Rift Storm his true origin and his true purpose, hoping that Void can fix the Cycle before the Universe comes to an end.]

Hecatoncheires · Oct 23, 2009

And now I can no longer remember how many I've killed.

What's more, I don't even feel a spasm of regret or remorse for what I did to Teagan; in my eyes, the necromancer deserved to die, and I believe I was right in killing him. It scares me more than anything else, this change in me. When I first killed, the guilt was almost overwhelming, and now I don't so much as feel it.

So much for the Hypocratic Oath, then; I'm a Doctor who's gone back on his word, a man whose purpose is to save lives and yet is taking them, too.

Still, none of this will matter if we don't make it through those Gates. If I survive this, and it's looking likely that none of us will at this point, I can think things over then. Right now, though, my only problems should be getting everyone through those Gates.

With Alex slung over my shoulders in a fireman-style lift, I rush forwards with the remaining crew-members of the Legacy. Around us, the universe collapses, dragging Iwaku with it. I glance ahead to Uriel, who leads the way alongside Ryker, and then to my right, where Venom, still in his werewolf form, carries the still unconsious Sura between them.

So few of us left...

"You want a hand with him, Doc?" I hear a voice call from behind me, and another ISAF soldier falls in beside me, covered in dust, gore and grime. We all must look like shit, it must be said. I nod, and together we begin to carry Alex towards the Gates.

We're getting close now, but there's not much time left. We just need to reach the Gates.

We just need to get clear of this world before the universe ends.

Fluffy · Oct 25, 2009

She hadn't a choice but to depend on her wings for support because her leg had been cruelly tortured with one strike. Her eyes were swirling with multiple colours, the irises unable to decide on one as her emotions were a combination of sorrow, rage and pain. Aimi dearly wanted to escape this nightmare, but knew that deep down... Everyone else had priority over her. The realm which she came from no longer could be contacted nor escaped to - All the other Wruath angels were gone. She had to continue her position as a representation of hope...

"C-C'mon!"

The Neko-jin's voice was raspy as she called out encouragement and urged people forward with her arms. She hadn't experienced a time more difficult than this... At least, not recently. The wars from the past were centuries ago. Her fight for her personal freedom was long before she died the first time. The present - in her current form - was an epic battle she felt honoured to have survived through.

She gazed at the Gate they were approaching, stopping abruptly as her ears absorbed familiar voices and unfamiliar ones as well. Tears began to gather in her eyes, the hilt of her weapon receiving a tight grip with her hand.

"L'mord..." She said softly, a sympathetic pain piercing through her heart. Her fangs bit at her bottom lip before she opened her wings again, staying close behind the other survivors with the blade dragging in the air - Heavy amounts of blood sliding down the metal from her victims.

Aimi whispered a prayer for herself and her comrades, feeling that's all she could do as they struggled for safety. She knew not if it could heal them like she helped those suffering during the epidemic on the Legacy... But it at the very least provided her with a sense of hope.

(( Aimi is hurrying towards the gates by flight since her leg is injured, but chooses to be behind everyone so she can be assured they make it. Along the way, she is sympathetic for Lamord. She also is whispering a healing prayer she doubts will have effect on her friends, but is motivating her. ))

Jack Shade · Nov 2, 2009

The sound of Armageddon did not come in a roar. Strange as it may seem, the ultimate destruction of a thousand worlds, endless dimensions was heralded by crying. The first Rift Storm was born of tears and thus had served its purpose as a starving avenger, an unconquered army to obliterate everything…in such a way that tears may never fall again. Now, swirling above their heads, the wreckage of the Legacy and the Torment locked together as one, Void WAS. No simply verb to denote his action, gods simply existed and thus did Void…agent of ultimate wreckage. No…no…Gods? He had devoured them long ago with what was left of heaven. A year ago he might have been no different than those gibbering Rift Storms above his head…a beast without a leash and nothing more. Somehow…distilled in so specific a human form, Void had existed briefly as a savior not a demon. Trading the scythe of death for the harvest of rebirth, the former Rift Storm guided the Legacy through its walls…its ceilings…and its floors. He WAS the Legacy…for a time.

The sound of Lamord's voice was a tinny murmur in the vastness of his rushing form. There was only the screams of tormented souls ringing out in cacophony, a trillion mouths twisted in grotesque laughter and a trillion eyes pouring black tears into the well of his endless power. One voice whispered to destroy the Sanctuary…to end it all here and create naught but silence once more…the state of nothingness the universe once had been. The cycle had ended, and thus every trace of sentience must be wiped clean from the slate.
And yet…

Lamord smiled, eyes obscured by jagged hair. Fearless captain and as much an angel as any he'd seen, the keeper of the Legacy laughed in one timeless moment.

Sebastian, his mouth stumbling over words of affection once put an arm around Rieme, offering her shoes for their first date. She had spoken then…but only a word.

Agronak, brutish engineer slaved within the tangled mess of the Legacy systems…few knew of him but Lamord visited frequently…he enjoyed that.

MAC, the sarcastic robot…simply a tin man in search of a heart and a purpose beyond the one he was designed for.

Tel'Nein, buccaneer elf cast adrift in a strange flow of universe. He'd found his place among the ISAF and now within his captain's hand, perhaps it had been the 'ship' he had been searching for all along.

Jack, optimistic child gaining the bravery and strength of adulthood. He had defended Void once…called him friend. His grave was among the others now, buried beneath a monument from a time long ago. He had lived and died a hero…it was how he wanted to go.

Gorn, a chieftain set among strange warriors. His rage had been conquered at the end of things…it simply took an opponent like Ithryx to help Gorn realize there were other ways to fight then smash and tear.

Aimi, angel to a godless crew she had cared for her brother and those around her with a singular devotion. Supporting a wounded warrior, she hobbled toward the Sanctuary…her heart shone brightest of all, clear of doubt and fear.

Uriel, loyal friend to Lamord and a practitioner of darkness. Despite his association with the dead, his will to live exceeded most. Even now his weary eyes were set upon the Sanctuary looming before them.

Alexander, the psychic boy with uncontrolled powers. In the end he had helped to end the Torment, and still he drew breath…his heart encased in fear but mind alive in drive.

Grant, human first and doctor second. He had lived through it all and still struggled with the hope inherent in all his kind. Perhaps he would find redemption from those he couldn't save beyond the gate…perhaps forgiveness.

ISAF, most of their number slumbering in the abyss of death. Who but they, the remaining few of their howling force would know the meaning of life? Of existence? They had all been fighting since the beginning…and would continue to the bitter end.

Daryl, estranged son of destiny had finally become what he had always struggled to be. A hero…a man set aside from his dark abilities and a force to bring down even the most vile of villains.

Jin, seer and Gogyo…her wisdom had spread throughout the crew and by her conviction lives were saved. What did she see one wondered…what future could she perceive of this chaos?

Finally…Asmodeus…the man called Atrian, creator and gaoler of Void in the time before time. Irredeemable it seemed, a monster of ambition…but he had smiled once and called him 'son'…and beneath the madness there once was a common soul…and it strove to be free.

So what was he? Born of despair and perpetuated on the collective misery of the ending universe, Void was a means to an end. And yet…and yet…somehow he had become more in those months spent with the Legacy crew. Within his being, he knew something had changed. The countless lives he had absorbed may be shouting, but now he could hear laughter within their timbre. With a sense of exultation he could FEEL the collective optimism in the universe…faint, but glowing like a beacon in this sea of unrest. At the end of things if the remnants of existence could still look upon the might of the Eldest Rift Storm and yet believe things would turn out for the best then perhaps tigers could change their stripes. They trusted Void and in the end, he was still their guide and protector…he could scarcely shirk his duties now. Perhaps…perhaps there was more to the sentient races then their hatred, their sorrow. Perhaps in light of every atrocity committed…the smallest act of charity could pull the sun from the clouds and a smile from the destitute. The opposite of SORROW was JOY as the opposite of DESPAIR was HOPE. And though they were different, both were reverse sides of the same coin, the sentient experience. Life did not simply constitute of either but BOTH, and the ability to persevere beyond the hardship was what made these people strong…is what made these people worth saving.

Drifting downward, Void pulled the pieces of the Legacy around him. Like old skin, the leviathan of scarred and pitted steel rose from the tendrils of the Torment and soared upward toward the light of the Sanctuary. The Cycle was broken. Clockwork squealed and squalled as Void drew closer. Perhaps it was only he who could see the universe falling away and the metaphysical machinery to appear around him, stuttering in their failing function. He knew where to go, was almost led by premonition as the Legacy reshaped itself. Steel gave way to a shining expanse of multi-hued splendor and settling within its dusty place it became but another cog…the last piece of the Cycle returned at last. With almost a sigh, the machine began turning back time…the world falling apart and rebuilding around the survivors. Those remaining would need to reach the Sanctuary…but even when completing the reconstitution of the world, Void allowed a glowing bridge of what appeared to be azure feathers stretch from the remaining survivors to the gate…an invitation within as the world was remade around them. God of unmaking he had been born…and now he would complete the Cycle and become God of Making as he once had dreamed.

"Thank you everyone…god speed to you from here…it was an honor serving with you."

And then he was gone, a collective conscious swallowing a content soul finally at peace with his purpose and existence.

Summary: Void realizes his purpose and becomes the missing piece of the Cycle. The universe is being remade around everyone but they must still get to the Sanctuary.

Asmodeus · Nov 2, 2009

* * * * * * *

EPILOGUE

There was a man waiting by the roadside. To his left, a valley stretched in mist before the golden city on the hill.

As Lamord came closer, his footfalls drew the man's attention, and he turned, pulling back the hood of his robe.

"Hi."

Lamord's answer came faintly. "Hello. I..." He glanced to one side and frowned, vaguely conscious of the light behind him, and of the same light beneath his ribs, where all feeling had gone. "I don't remember..."

"It's alright," said the man, smiling as he scratched through pale brown hair, "Void got you all out. He did what he was meant to. So... you did it."

"Am I in Sanctuary?"

The man looked out across the valley. "Well actually, you're um, you're sitting on the bridge of the Promise, with the other angels. You all are. But... in your mind you're here with me..."

Lamord pressed beneath his ribs, the memory of something nagging at his clouded mind.

"Sanctuary is a place of paradox, between the start and end of the Cycle," continued the man, his deep voice sometimes stalling on certain words so he had to concentrate on pronouncing them. "What Void did has given us time... y'know, time to be here... you and me."

Lamord looked up, focussing on the man. He was perhaps in his twenties, a foot shorter than the angel and averagely built. He didn't maintain eye-contact for long, and seemed to look at the floor or twiddle his fingers when he wasn't talking. He reminded Lamord a little of Sebastian.

"Who are you?" asked Lamord, his voice seeming to echo around the valley.

"Greg," replied the man, with a somewhat nervy smile. "I'm your... erm..."

"My God?"

Greg shrugged and played with the sleeves of his robe. "I suppose... in a way." He looked up at Lamord. "You were the only thing that really made sense, you know? When I made you, I wasn't alone and... things would get better."

Lamord reached out and ran his fingers over the drystone wall at the roadside. It was warm, the crystal rivulets of rainfall like beautiful diamonds in the cracks. "So what becomes of us now, Greg?"

Greg perched on the wall beside him. "Because of Void, the Cycle is restarting. So... the universe is being born again. Everything... restarting. And the paradox of it all means that... for a while... Sanctuary exists for everyone on the Promise. We're floating between Heaven and the New World... in a vanishing space. That's why it's called the Promise... cos of the greatest promise of all... the promise that one day, in the end, after the torment of our lives and the legacy our pasts, we'll all have a choice, and nothing will affect that choice. It's free will... a perfect crossroads. But we don't have long..."

Lamord sighed and sat beside him. "Tell me."

"There's three choices, really." Greg looked over his shoulder, towards the perfect city on the hillside, wreathed in gentle sunlight. "Eternity. You can carry on walking. Casepheny will be there, and Sebastian, and all the ones you've lost. Of course, the city is just an image in your mind at the moment. I can't tell you what will really be there, in Heaven. But... I know you'll be happy at least. Happy forever."

He turned back and reached out his hand, watching his fingers play through the valley mist that rose beside him. "Rebirth. You can fall and forget everything that's happened. You'll go back to a dimension in the new Cycle - your own homeworld and time. And your life will continue as if the Rift Storms never came. Everything will be as it was before you started your voyage."

Lamord folded his wings around him, noticing that one of them was fully made of celestial light. He was starting to remember... his injuries, the fight with Semyaza... Paul pulling him through the gates as the universe fell apart into light.

"And what is the third choice?" he asked softly.

Greg breathed in, a deep inhale as he looked at the road. "Transcendence. You can wake up now, back on the Bridge of the Promise, with the angels who survived. And you can finish the journey of the Third Ship."

Lamord looked over at the boy. "Where is it going?"

"To Iwaku. Not the one that you remember, or the one that was destroyed. The true Iwaku. The Meta-Narrative."

"The what...?"

"It's a realm of stories, a place where art and writing from all dimensions comes together. It's where the mythic stories of all the worlds reside, and where the muses drive the lifeblood of the universe. It's the Heart of the Cycle, I suppose."

"And what would I do, in this... Meta-Narrative?"

Greg scratched his pale hair again, "The Cycle has broken down before, many times. I'm not sure how many times. But it's always the same... an anomaly caused by something in the Cycle. This time it was Paorou-Sama and Void... and the Rift Storms. But now a new Cycle has begun and... and no one can predict what will happen this time. All we know is... the Anomaly will return, and the fate of all things will hang in the balance again."

Greg stood up again. "If you go through to Iwaku now, you'll become a Cycle Guardian, like Chaos and Coffeecake and Rory - all the ones that helped you on your voyage. And you'll do what they did... fight to save the Cycle... to prevent despair and chaos, like the kind that claimed Paorou-Sama and brought the Rift Storms."

Lamord smiled as he listened, finding traces of himself, Casepheny, Sebastian, even Atrian Des and Semyaza in the boy's voice. And when Greg had ended, Lamord pressed his hand back to his ribs and looked up.

"I'm dying... aren't I?"

Greg's face became a picture of deepest sorrow. "Yes... I'm sorry."

"If I go through... to Iwaku... how long will I have...?"

Greg moved closer, a tear breaking from one of his dark blue eyes. And he whispered weakly. "Long enough..."

The angel's smile held. "Then... you know my answer, Greg."

The boy wept freely, putting his arms around Lamord and shaking with helpless tears. The angel returned the embrace, burying his head in Greg's robes and closing his eyes with a final whisper.

"You were never alone."

And with that, Lamord woke up on the bridge of the Promise, bathed in the billion-fold light of birthing stars.

Warmaster Death · Nov 3, 2009

the freezing chill of the final confrontation faded and all went silent and white for a few moments, Uriel's heart began to pound in his chest, fear taking hold before a sense of warm calmness washed over the Necromancer Sergeant, and as his vision returned, Uriel saw that he was sitting in front of a glass and steel table, he looked around and noticed two figures
the first was a the large man he had seen previously, the tall armored warrior looked to Uriel with a smile of gentle understandin before nodding over Uriel's shoulder.

Uriel turned quickly, though from his sitting position the movement was rather awkward.
"Uriel, Nice ta finally meet yeh face ta face" the other figure, a short, overweight boy of no more than twenty grinned at the sergeant
The boy smiled at Uriel's concern
"Your still alive my freind, though as when you met the Warmaster last time, time has no real meaning for you" The boy lifted a cigar to his lips and for a moment it looked as though he had just bit a lemon
"What happend?" Uriel asked, still rather shocked, though it was the armored figure who responded
"your ally Void fulfilled his purpose and saved your lives, you could say that one part of your journey is complete" the boy blew acrid grey smoke and nodded with another grin, pointing with the cigar out into the starlit night that lay before the three
"Your actually on the Promise, but lets get back to the business at hand, May i Introduce your Guardian angel,Warmaster Death" the boy pointed to the Space Marine, who nodded and bu remained silent
"as for me, you could call me your god, creator or some shit liek taht, but I prefer Mick meself" the boy sucked on the cigar again, smoke flowing from his mouth as he continued
"this place is me folk's backyard, in a little suburb in Melborne, and Uriel, these past months have been an adventure for all three of us, even if it was you who bore the brunt of the danger" a sort of regret mixed with pity pased through the boys face, and he looked as though the words had stuck in his throat, he gestured agressively for WMD to continue for him, the cigar in his hand still sending a small trail of smoke wafting towards the decking above.

"What Michael is trying to say is that we were with you every step of the way, though it was you who overcame all that was thrown against you, with sacrifice and determination, though your story is not yet done, for you have an important choice ahead" the Space marine said calmly and clearly, though he paused adn looked to the boy, who had by now overcome his emotions
"you have three choices Uriel, my freind, Firstly you've got Eternity where basically you die and go to whatever afterlife you beleive in, and there you spend the rest of your conciousness doing whatever it is you wish, not a bad deal, but let us tell ya the other choices before you make up your mid" the boy punctuated the sentance with another puff of the cigar, the grin having subsided to a mask of pride
"the second choice is Rebirth, basically that one lets you go back to before the rift storms ever happened, and live your life that way, to be blunt man, that seems like a fuckin copout" WMD bristled and gave Mick a sharp look, and he looked sheepsihly at the ground for a few seconds before looking back at Uriel, dropping the now spent cigar to the ground and crushing it underneath his sandal
"the final choice, the third option, Is Trancendence, basically Uriel, if you choose this you go with WMD into an Iwaku as you've never before seen it, a whole new universe that is only limited by the imagination of people like me, whether we be writers, roleplayers or just forum dwellers, if you choose this third option Uriel, you have a chance to shape the future and stop horros such as those you faced from happening again" Michael smiled faintly, and bent over the arm of his chair, as though looking for something, taking three cans and placing them on the table with a sly smile
"but first, I'd like you two to take a canadian club an' allow me to raise a glass to two of the finest bastards I've ever had the pleasure to write about" both Uriel adn WMD looked at the boy with some measure of suprise, but Uriel felt that he already knew what he would choose, and so he simply raised the can and smiled.
"I choose Transcendence" he said, and Michael's face split into a massive grin
"Your a good bloke Uriel and I wont forget the sacrifice your making in choosing this, but before you two head off, remember that i may write what happens, but you guys make your lives what they are with your choices" as he spoke Uriel and WMD stood, and once more the world faded into blackness.

Hecatoncheires · Nov 3, 2009

Void is gone, and the Universe is suddenly shifting and changing.

Not that it changed much for us; the gates to Sanctuary stand before us, becoming ever-closer. Our goal is so close we can almost touch it. Through all the struggles, battles and hardships, we had just about made it.

I can barely feel the wound upon my leg, barely hear anything around me; the only thing I care about is moving forward, reaching those gates with everyone else, and the promise of safety just beyond them. Safety... after so long, I might feel safe again...

We cross together, the remnants of the Legacy's crew. Through the Gates we run, escaping the dying universe behind us, unsure what may be beyond but knowing it can only be better than what we are leaving behind.

The light rushes up to meet me, and suddenly I am standing on my own. The sounds of a dying universe vanish, and silence prevails. Then it grows dark, and I am standing before a wooden desk covered in everything from empty bottles to cereal cartons and books. Sitting before a laptop at the desk is a teenage boy, dressed in a dark shirt, a waistcoat and dark jeans with a fedora perched on top of his head.

He doesn't notice me, and I guess why when I see the headphones connecting his laptop to his ears. I stand there for a moment, taking this bizarre scene in, then I say,
"...Um, hello?" Startled, the boy jumps and wrenches the headphones out his ears, looking up at me.
"Fuck! Sorry, mate. Didn't see you there." He chuckles, "Gave me a bloody heart-attack there, you did."
"Sorry."
"Not your fault, old boy. I should have been paying more attention." He stares at me intently for a moment, scrutinising my features, then smiles. "So you all made it, then. Got through those pearly gates and now you're wondering where the fuck you are, who the fuck I am and where the fuck your friends are."

I chuckle.
"That about sums it up, yeah. Is that a Perthshire accent I hear, by the way?" The boy nods.
"Is indeed." He rubs his hands together and leans back in his chair for a moment, muttering to himself, "Fuck, how to explain this..." Looking back at me, he takes a deep breath and begins to talk.

"Right, in answer to your second question, my name's Dave, and I created you. As for your first question--"
"Wait, what?" I interrupt him, "You made me? What the hell does that mean?"
"Another way of putting it is...well, uh, I'm your..." Dave pauses to chuckle to himself, "Christ, this is gonna make me sound like a psychopath, but you could call me your God. But that sounds crazy, even to me, so let's move on. We don't have a lot of time, old boy.

"Anyways, as for your first question, you're sitting on the bridge of the Promise with the rest of the crew, but I thought it was important you and I have a little chat first, so you're here as well."
"Where's 'here'?"
"A place between places," Dave says cryptically, "It doesn't have a name. But you and I need to talk, cause I need to explain some stuff. I've put you through a lot of shit lately, after all. It's not easy for a doctor to become a killer."

I stare at him for a moment, then ask a single question.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you... make me kill those people? Why did you turn me into a murderer?"
"Simple, old boy; development. In order to survive, you had to become something more, you had to change. Stock characters never make it to the end of the story, old boy. Through your suffering, through the challenges that you faced, you became stronger, and thus you and I are having this conversation, as opposed to you lying dead in that Coliseum. I wanted to explain that to you, so you understand. Trust me, man, I know how hard it was for you; I've been with you throughout your experiences."

Dave and I look at each other, before finally I speak again.
"So what happens now, then?"
"Simple, really; you've got to make the Choice."

The boy raises his hand and clicks his fingers, and suddenly the darkness around us shatters like glass, and we're in the entrance to Ninewells Hospital, Dave still sitting behind his desk. I can see orderlies and GPs moving around us, but none of them seem to notice us.

"Choice number one," Dave says, "Rebirth, we're calling it. I send you back to your life before the Rift Storms, and you carry on from where you left off. Rift Storms'll never happen; you can live a normal life again, but the memory of everything that happened to you, everything you did, won't go away. You aren't the same Doctor Grant Page who worked in this hospital before the Rift Storms."

Again, Dave clicked his fingers and the hospital shattered around us. The ground reflected us, and the world swirled and shifted.

"Choice number two; this one they're calling Eternity. You pass on and go to what you could call Heaven, essentially. You live happily ever after, with no troubles, no worries, and you'll see Doctor Wright and all the others who didn't make it again. Of course, that means that you and I will be parting ways, because your story will be finished."

For the third time, Dave clicked his fingers, and what he called Heaven shattered around us as the hospital had done, the shards vanishing as a new scene took it's place. I find myself standing on a road that stretches off into the distance and out of sight.

"And the final Choice; Transcendence." At this, Dave paused to chuckle to himself again. "Fuck, Greg, you did roll out the fancy names for these. Anyways, yeah. Transcendence. You wake up with the others aboard The Promise, with the angels, and you go on to Iwaku, the True Iwaku. They're calling it 'The Meta-Universe'."
"Why are you giving me this choice?" I ask.
"Because it's the most important, Grant. You've seen what happens when the Anomaly occurs, when the Cycle breaks down and the Rift Storms come. There's no guarantee that this will not happen again. You go on to the True Iwaku, and you'll become a Cycle Guardian. You can stop the Anomaly from coming to pass once again, Grant; you can save lives, and maybe find the redemption you're looking for. It won't be easy, trust me; Iwaku's nature means you'll have your work cut out for you. But you'll be saving people from having to go through what you have, and that's no small prize."

I stand there, for how long I don't know, think to myself. When I look up at Dave, I smile.
"If it means stopping this Anomaly thing you keep talking about, and making sure the Rift Storms never happen again... then I choose Transcendence, Dave." The boy grins.
"Thought you might."

The scene around us begins to fade and break up, and I see the darkness that we stood in at the start attempting to push itself back to dominance again.
"Bollocks," Dave curses, "We're almost out of time, old boy, so I guess this is goodbye, and good luck." He rises from his desk, moves round it to stand before me, and looks me up and down one final time. "This is beyond weird, man, I gotta say. Never thought I'd be standing having a conversation with one of my charac--" The darkness is all around us now, the road having completely vanished.

"None of this is real, is it?" I ask the boy, "This is all in my head, right?" At this, Dave begins to laugh, even as he begins to fade as well, along with his desk. He has to shout for me to hear him.
"To quote from the final book of a series that got me writing, of course it's all in your head, you daft fuck, but why the hell does that mean it's not real? Now, fuck off! You've got a world to protect!"

I watch as Dave vanishes into the darkness, then, for the final time, the darkness shatters, and I find myself lying on the bridge of the Promise.

Let's hope I made the right Choice.

Arsenal XA4 · Nov 3, 2009

Fluffy · Nov 3, 2009

Everyone Aimi was helping push forward had disappeared. Even so, she continued to flap her wings faster than she remembered doing in a very long time. A white light began to consume her, instantly flashing into a darkness as she collapsed from a few feet in the air to soil ground she could not see. She laid there, no longer feeling threatened or in pain. When she caught her breath, Aimi sat up and observed her surroundings - Nothing. That was, until a ginger touch was put to her shoulder. Ears erect, the angelic feline looked to her shoulder to see a white hand with long, black nails and a soft glow surrounding each finger. A warmth spread through Aimi as she stood, standing face to face with another angelic being who was slightly taller with flowing red hair, golden eyes and wings with not only white but teal fathers. She also spied a pair of black feline ears on the woman's head, her shape looking very fragile beneath her robes.

"Aimi." The stranger spoke, removing her hand from the shoulder.

"Yer..familiar..." Aimi said under her breath, continuing to gaze at the figure with a pair of hot pink irises.

The winged stranger chuckled softly, making a slight nod of her head. "My name is Engel. I am the incarnation of Iwaku's Goddess. I'm afraid I don't make as many appearances as I should... I can only listen to their prayers and aid them from afar."

Aimi's head tilted to its left, examining this Goddess even more closely. She believed her... Yet, did not quite understand why it was she that was standing before her. Suddenly, she had to ask,

"D'ye know anything 'bout m'son? 'S he okay? What about th'angels in Paradise? D'they know what 'appened?"

Engel made a calm sigh, apparently expecting this many questions. She was obligated to answer,

"Oliver, he's alright - I promise. You will see him again someday. He's not mentally mature but is still a grown man... He knows what he's doing."

She smiled after she said this, taking Aimi by one of her hands.

"As for your realm of angels, Aimi, they no longer exist. There's no place for you now. You must choose a path from here. Your work as a Messenger is finished..."

Astonished by this, she looked down at her bony hand as it was touched by the faint glowing fingers of Engel. When she looked back at her, she swallowed a lump in her throat and made a questionable look.

"Aimi Wruath, a decision is to be made. Firstly, you may choose the path of Eternity, which sends you to the Heavens where you can be happy for the rest of your days. It's not entirely like your Paradise where your dead would be sent to, but I assure you - You'd be happy."

Aimi nodded, waiting for Engel to continue. She at this point couldn't think of anything to say...

"Second choice is Rebirth. You may choose to go back to where your life began, as if there were no Rift Storms. Everything will be the same before your journey with Lamord. Lastly, you can choose the path of Transcendence. You will be sent to Iwaku, the land I and many others have lived in. In Iwaku, there is a place for everyone."

Engel was finished listing Aimi's decisions, so she smiled again and released Aimi's hand. Her hands joined together, resting on her stomach while she patiently awaited a response. It looked like Aimi was putting a lot of thought into it...

"Engel, I.. I wanna keep 'elpin' people. Kinda jus' somethin' that grew on meh." She said, making a sheepish grin. Engel was aware of Aimi's past life as a lonely mortal when she was enslaved for showcasing and service to a greedy king until a human she fell in love with freed her. As well as how she died and became angelic...

"You may if that is what you desire." She replied, assuring Aimi that if that is what she wanted, that would be within her power given she made the right decision.

"I wanna Transcend, Engel. But... I wanna do so in yer service. Lemme 'elp ye in Iwaku."

Engel touched her lips with some of her fingers, pondering the decision. Aimi had definitely done more than prove herself... The proposal surprised Engel, in fact - Though, it was not noticeable.

"If that is what you wish. It would be an honour to have a heroine such as yourself serve under me. But, you must commit no wrong. Is that understood? You cannot live the way your people did. I had to do the same when I became what I am..."

"Y'ave m'word, Engel. Aimi Wruath's ready fer change. Fer the better."

Engel nodded sagely, making a warm smile as she made a wave with her hand. The blackness turned white once again, stream of silver glistening around them as Aimi's form began to undergo drastic changes.

"You will board The Promise now. We'll meet again."

Before she knew it, she was drifting above the Promise, making a soft approach for it.

Blind Hemingway · Nov 3, 2009

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUecKlyfQEs"]YouTube - Last Exile OST2 - A New World Has Come - Hitomi[/ame]

There was the smell of tobacco, the stuff a kindly old grandfather would smoke. There was a certain homeliness to it.

"Welcome back." The sage's voice spoke.

"Hrmm…" Jin mentioned as she felt a finger poking at her side. Rubbing her eyes for a few moments, the young woman quickly shot up when she realized she was no longer in the valley of death.

"You're here… Does that mean I'm dead? Am I in the Jade Heaven?" Jin asked with a slight tone of fear.

"Depends; do you assume you are? If so, then I really don't need to waste my time speaking to a corpse." The sage said.

Jin looked around, the home of the famous sage was messy. Upon the walls sat shelf upon shelf of Middle Eastern influenced hats and clothing. The wallpaper was somewhat peeling, but Jin could easily tell the figures were from some Semitic language. Finally, upon the floor sat bounds of old books; giving the room even more of antiquarian feel to it.

"So wait; I went through all that…Just to come back? Here of all places…" Jin asked.

"Yep, life is like that. You go on an adventure and at the end you return home; where ever you feel that is. I'm flattered that you like my home that much. The Fine Blessing Inn, such a nice little place after all." The sage then smiled.

"Did you learn what you needed to?" She then asked, as she saw Jin moving some of her long red hair away from her eyes.

"Yes; I have one simple question for you…" Jin was about to ask when the sage interrupted her.

"You are going to ask if I am Rory. I guess in some sense I am; in another I am not. You see, as a Cycle Guardian the universe has a weird ways of keeping us around. My soul is automatically transferred to a new body each time the current one is destroyed. The original's consciousness and personality already fizzled away when I found myself here. However the original memory, knowledge, and power still remains forever expanding."

Jin raised an eyebrow.

"I guess the best way to sum it up is that as an angel, they never truly die; they just change form. This is the role of a trickster; breaking boundaries and questioning everyone and thing that crosses our paths; this even includes death."

"Actually I was going to ask what happens from here."

"Ah, not interested in my tale; that's too bad. Anyways, you have three choices before you now. Rebirth, Eternity, and Transcendence. You're smart enough to figure out what each means…"

"For once I want the choices explained to me. All too often I was forced to make decisions on a whim. Since you are here, tell me things for once. I don't want riddles, I want the damn truth set in front of me."

"Alrightie then, the option of rebirth is kind of out for you. You'll go back to your own home world and time but seeing as it's Iwaku; it's always changing around. There's Eternity; the whole paradise with little angels playin' their harps kind of deal. Finally, there's transcendence; which in the grand scheme of things doesn't really help you either. Mostly because you went through all the same issues I did in my past lives; except for the whole Infinite Crisis on Infinite Earths thing."

"….So you are saying I have no choice in the matter?" Jin asks.

"No you have the three choices before you, just they'll end up leading to the same conclusion. Except for Eternity:"

"Well, I am not in the mood to have gone through all that just to end up dead." Jin responded.

"Exactly, my point." The sage adds.

"Then it's not really much of a choice, now is it? However, I am going to choose to transcendence."

"Perfect. At least you'll be able to help teach people like you always have desired."

"True..."

"Well, since you made up your mind, let's get going then."

The world around Jin and the Sage shatters into thousands of tiny shards; only to be replaced by thousands of stars and comforting light. As far as the Shinzui could see, the reality around them was tranquil and still. She looked down; it was clear they were walking but at the same time it was if they were being gently pulled along.

"You're coming with me?" Jin asked.

"Oh, but of course. Do you really think I'm going to miss the creation of a new realm? I've yearned to see such a spectacle ."

"But won't your presence cause a paradox?" Jin asked her companion.

"Metaphysics, simple as that. You said you wanted no more riddles. The Trickster lives inside and outside of Time. He is of our world, yet not of our world, so our laws will not always apply. Or as I see it, reality is a dual thing, if the male aspects exist, then I too exist as the female."

"So in other words, you play the role of a god. Interesting."

"Na, I'm more of a boundary dweller; I find expression through human imagination and experience. Stuff of that nature. I'm just an angel with too much time on their hands; that's all."

With that Jin and the Sage found themselves near an open door.

"Here's our stop."

Jin then looked up at the angel. For the first time, the tricksters' wings could be seen.

I remember all that happened, and I'm not going to forget. Worlds lived, worlds died. I lived, I died, I came back. Nothing will ever be the same. But those were great days for me...

Delnoir · Nov 4, 2009

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRF4Rz8vhJk"]YouTube - Gurren Lagann OST - Love Conservative[/ame]

Reaching Sanctuary had a different effect for Daryl, Angela, and Leonard than it had for their friends. Unlike the other Iwakuian guardians, Chaos died to give Daryl his opening. To end the nightmare. When they reached the gates the newly dubbed Legacy reacted with a quiet glow, and all went black. And in the blackness, there was a voice.

"You are...quite the anomaly. To be here, but to carry the remnants of another cycle. And this sword...my my, we seem to be birds of a feather, don't we?"

Daryl and Angela woke to being in a large ruined building. When they looked up, they were greeted by a young man sitting in a chair across from them. Shaggy brown hair, two eyes of a green and brown central heterochromia, the duster, the sword...there was no mistaking it.

"C...Chaos?"

"Well, that's my name among the others yes. My real name is Justin. Have we met?"

As the knights staggered to their feet, Daryl recognized the ruins as the ruins he had explored in Rift Town before the journey on the Legacy. Angela smiled softly.

"Kind of..."

There was no doubt. His face didn't bear the scars of thousands of years of battle, and the weary tired aura was full of life and energy, but this was Chaos. This was Iwaku. When the people of Iwaku had stopped Paorou. When the Rift Storms didn't exist. Sanctuary had resonated with Legacy and sent Daryl and Angela to its sister sword. For the next five hours Daryl and Angela recited their tale to Chaos. When they were done, he smiled.

"So I made Daryl a Knight of Iwaku, gave him Ragnarok, and sacrificed myself in the end? Well...from the sound of it the other me planned to send you to me in the end anyway. Come you two. The older gentleman with you has already set out for the capital, but you...should see this."

The Counter Guardian led the two knights to the top of the Temple of the Past and stood out on the balcony. The two stared out at the first sign of nature alive and well in what felt like years and years.

"...Wow..."

"Our meeting wasn't chance...you two said...you wanted to see to it that something like that never happens again. Tell you what. Go find your friends. Bring them to me. We'll bring back the Knights of Iwaku, and protect this land."

"....."

Chaos' answer was met by two nods. He smiled to himself. He had locked himself away on this island to watch over Iwaku alone. Now...he wasn't so alone anymore. The Knight of Iwaku: Knights to protect the land. To guard the cycle. To rise up where other back down. So long he had wanted to create them again. Now he had that chance. He took his place by the knight and the paladin and looked away off of the island, toward Iwaku Castle. For the first time in ages, the two could take their guard down. For Daryl and Angela, one story had ended

"Welcome to the Knights of Iwaku."

...and another had begun...

Asmodeus · Nov 4, 2009

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And so, the universe was being reborn.

And amongst the birthing spheres of new worlds, The Promise hung. It no longer looked like a ship... but simply a disc, spinning like a wheel in the heavens. Golden words trickled like water across its surface and tumbled away.

And as the survivors awoke, sitting up or rising to stand, white lights lifted away from them. The other angels of The Promise were departing, lingering as if to embrace the survivors one last time, before rising into the beautiful canopy of cosmic light. They would become the muses, the inspiriations - all the myriad facets of sentient thought, in the Cycle to come...

Lamord was helped up by Paul, who supported him as they gazed upon the wheel-like stage. There was still a patch of light around Lamord's abdomen, where he had been stabbed, but it was hard to make out against his robes. He, like Paul and all the others, had assumed a perfect form, all blood and dirt cleaned from his skin, his clothes and hair immaculate. The sword of Tel'Nein lay strapped across his back, the steel warm against his regrown wings.

Grant was there too, and Daryl, and Uriel. Lamord squinted at another two forms beyond them, who still seemed to be carrying their light with them. It was Sozrosse, and Aimi.

There was no sign of Alex, or Sura, or any of the ISAF. What choices they had made would never be known, and all that was certain was that they weren't going to be coming.

And so this was it... the last of the Legacy. An angel, a sword, an ethereal, a disciple, a messenger, a knight, a doctor and a necromancer. Eight people. It seemed the universe was not without a sense of humour, for in any story there are eight archetypes - the hero, the shadow, the guardian, the shapeshifter, the trickster, the ally, the herald and the mentor.

As to which survivor was which archetype, perhaps it would never be known. Or perhaps the future would tell...

Up ahead, as the wheel spun its way through the birthing orbs, a light was approaching...

"What now?" asked Lamord, barely masking the pain in his voice. His words echoed around the void, following the stream of words and the departure of the Iwakuan angels.

"We go back in time," answered Paul, wrapping his red scarf tighter as he supported Lamord. "Back to when the timelines diverged. And we make sure that the timeline of the Rift Storms never happens, and that the Meta-Narrative continues beyond the Anomaly."

"Wait a minute!" said Grant, causing the others to turn, "So let me get this straight... we're going to CAUSE the timeline we're arriving in by DESTROYING the timeline we came from?"

Lamord and Paul looked at each other, then shrugged with gentle smiles.

"In the whole damn voyage, that's the stupidest thing I've heard yet!" declared Grant.

Uriel slapped the Doctor on the back and moved past him. "The Cycle has a funny way of defending itself." The Necromancer perched on the edge of the Promise, looking out over the cosmos.

"But how?" asked Aimi, "How're we s'pposed to change the timeline?"

"Quite simple really," answered Sozrosse. "The dark future was caused when Paorou-Sama defeated the other angels, led by Rory." She saw Grant frowning. "The king of Iwaku," she explained. "Rory was trying to create a Mirror Realm to save Iwaku, but he was too late, and Paorou brought the Rift Storms into full-form."

"So all we gots to do..." spoke the voice of Tel'Nein, "Is buy this Rory fella enough time ta defeat this Paorou scab?"

Paul nodded. "Yes. In the dark future, Rory was stopped when one of Iwaku's false gods intervened. A creature called Homac. It injured Rory, and then Rory was too weak to stop Paorou from killing him. But... if we stop Homac from intervening, the timeline will play out as it was supposed to."

"And then what?" asked Aimi, "What're we s'pposed to do in this 'Mirror Realm'?"

"The Knights of Iwaku," muttered Daryl, who had remained silent till now. The knight crossed to the centre of the wheel and glanced at his newly formed sword. "There is a man we can go to - a knight. He will help us find a new place in this Iwaku... a new quest."

"Then it seems we are resolved," said Lamord softly, more of his weight falling onto Paul's shoulder. "We enter Iwaku and we strike the face of their false God. We give this... Rory... the time he needs to save Iwaku."

"It might've helped to have the ISAF with us," muttered Grant.

"After all we've been through," smirked Uriel, "You're afraid of a little God?"

* * * * * * * *

IWAKU.... THE FINAL HOURS OF THE ADMIN WAR

Paorou was still seated on his throne of stone slabs. The scenery around him shifted, vividly, but one thing remained constant in this wild, chaotic battlefield. The sword of Iwaku drilling into the earth.

"Good bye, Rory." Paorou remarked as a beam of gold was flung and faded instantly into the darkness.

"I can't beat you here... but...!" A voice suddenly squeaked from below him. Paorou's single wicked eye turned downwards to see a red-haired kid flying upwards at him.

"Let's see you do these tricks somewhere else!" Suddenly, Jack tackled Paorou off his seat and into what seemed like a worm hole.

"Rory can end this - just give him time!"

"Silence!" thundered Homac, sending a ripple of destruction through the walls of the corridor. Orochi and Kitti dropped to their knees, clutching their ears as blood trickled between their fingers. Dandelion whimpered again, and Soulless pulled himself against the lion, trying to bury his head.

Kitti and Orochi fell apart and Homac stepped through them, shaking the castle as he passed through the ante-chambers. He threw wide the doors of the throne room and stormed through them, leaving the survivors huddling in the rubble and rain.

Homac stopped, a haze of fire and lightning hanging behind him like a beast waiting to pounce. He tilted his armoured head.

The chamber was empty.

But there was one soul he could feel.

His sword still dripping with Asmodeus's blood, Homac raised his other hand, his fingers flexing as they had when he felled the Teknikan fleet. The throne room shuddered, like an image on a disintegrating film reel, and then Rory appeared. The prince was writhing like a fly, caught in a spiderweb of golden light.

"The games are over!"

Rory felt the pull of the Deity's power. It was Confluence... it was Reality Bending... it was the Absolute - a trinity of all the powers that governed Iwaku. He fell out of the golden web, his clothes singed and his flesh wracked with bleeding scars. He had enough time to get to his knees before he was wreathed in holy light, his whole body going rigid.

"Rory... for your insolence, your presumption and your disrespect. For your arrogance and your desecration. For aspiring beyond your station and trangressing mortal affairs... I find you guilty."

Homac lifted the sword, but then halted

On the opposite side of the chamber stood the throne and the great shaft of green light beside it where the Sword of Iwaku burrowed into the core of the realm.

Delaying Rory's judgment a moment longer, Homac stepped over his body and crossed the chamber, closing on the throne and the great hole beside it where the hilt of the arcane weapon trembled.

Entering the green glow, he reached out his gauntlet to grip it.

And then a force swept into him from the side. Paorou-Sama, bruised and bloodied, lunged against the 10ft giant, half climbing him, headbutting dents in his silver armour. He had come from nowhere, just that second returned from another realm where the Deity could not sense him.

"FOOL!" yelled Homac, gripping hold of the madman and flinging him across the room. Paorou slammed into the wall, dropping with a crunch and as silence fell Homac's snarl echoed around the castle.

Turning back to the throne, Homac reached again for the Sword.

But then suddenly the air rushed up from his lungs, cutting through the throat with a horrible and resonant gasp.

"Uuuugh....!"

The Sword wasn't there.

Lamord looked up into the eyes of Homac with a victorious smile. He pulled the Sword of Iwaku from Homac's body and spun, passing it to Daryl, who likewise spun and passed it to Uriel. Homac watched in horror as the Sword swirled away from him, passed from hand to hand in a rapid arc around the eight strangers who had appeared. It went to Aimi, then to Grant, the finally to Paul.

Paul then knelt down, pressing the Sword into Paorou-Sama's hand. The crimson king, dazed by his collision of the wall, had only the vaguest sense of something being there. And as he took hold, the Legacy survivors pulled back into the shadows, unseen by Paorou or the half-conscious Rory.

His face twitching, Homac looked down. From beneath his breastplate a thin rivulet of blood ran out, brilliant scarlet against the silver. It parted and trickled, running between the lines of his armoured plates as if to paint him anew.

And over by the wall, Paorou rolled onto his back, the Sword of Iwaku in his hand.

The tip of the Sword was dipped in green, like the light from the shaft.

Homac dropped to one knee, clutching his chest and slumping against the throne. His golden eyes blinked in disbelief, knowing that only one thing could have happened.

The Core of Iwaku had been pierced.

Beneath the helm, the God's face twisted into the most infernal and apocalyptic rage.

"YOU WILL SUFFER FOR THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!!!!!!!!"

By the wall, Paorou-Sama gripped the Sword and smirked.

"It is done."

Rory now laughed. His body still aching with intense pain. However, he continued to laugh. The world had delivered the ultimate joke to both the creator and destroyer. It had worked. The great Exodus had been accomplished.

The survivors hurried down the long and winding path that led from Nerf Castle. The ground around them was falling away, leaving only green and dazzling light. And behind them, as Rory and his allies fled in the other direction, the walls of Nerf Castle fell in upon Paorou-Sama and the corpse of the false god Homac.

Overhead, the two surviving vessels of Iwaku, the Felicitas and the Barship, lifted into the shattering skies, following the streams of green light that led to the Mirror Realm.

Paorou had broken the bounds of Iwaku, and Rory had built a Mirror Realm to escape to.

The War was over... the Dark Future averted.

"Follow the light!" shouted Paul as he ran at the head of the survivors. Up ahead, a trail of green light was waiting to carry them to the new Iwaku. Aimi and Sozrosse were beside him, followed shortly after by Daryl.

But behind them, Lamord dropped.

Grant and Uriel saw him fall and turned, reaching to help him up.

"No," said Lamord, pushing their hands away. "Keep going. I'll follow."

Grant saw the blood trickling out from the wound in Lamord's stomach. He tried to get hold of the angel again. "Come on, you can make it!"

Lamord gripped both of their wrists, holding them at a distance. Further up the path, the other survivors had stopped and were looking back, their faces pale and sorrowful.

"My last order as your captain... go." Lamord's clear blue eyes held each of them, a look that could not begin to speak of all that they had shared.

So many months, so many worlds and adventures. They had flown through fire, endured mutiny, fought and bled together, battled angels, suffered at the hands of demons, rescued each other from darkness, seen paradise gained and lost, and stood together at the end of all things.

And there was just not enough time... not enough words nor tears in the whole universe.

"I'll be right behind you," said Lamord. And he let them go.

Uriel and Grant backed away, their gazes lingering on the angel till the very end. They too had nothing left to say. A final salute of silence and smiles... and nothing more.

The six remaining survivors turned and rushed with the others into the stream of celestial light.

Alone now, Lamord lay back upon the rocky path, his blood flowing freely and staining the ground around him. He watched the sky of old Iwaku fall apart, and the spirits rise to their new lives in the Mirror Realm.

With the last of his strength, he eased the sword of Tel'Nein from his back and placed it on the rocks beside him.

This was where he was meant to be. Where he had always belonged.

A pair of hands gripped the edge of the pit beside him. With half-open eyes, Lamord smiled and watched a bedraggled figure haul himself up onto the path, dark hair hung over his face, wings torn and reduced to bloody stumps.

Another angel. He fell down, gasping for breath, one hand clutching at his own neck as if astonished that his head was still there, while the other hand dropped a broken sword near Lamord's feet.

The dark angel coughed violently.

Paorou's last gift to Iwaku... the final use of his power... the resurrection of all who had fallen during the War.

"Hello... Asmodeus..."

The dark-haired angel lifted his head, bloodshot eyes glaring at Lamord. The Dark Prince's voice was broken and rasping, so alike to the voice of Atrian Des, who Asmodeus would one day become... if left without redemption.

"My ship-builder...?"

"Just listen... please..." Lamord's failing voice interrupted. "I've met him... our creator... and now... I've come to save you..."

Lamord's hand came away from his wound, pointing bloody fingers to the vanishing shapes of the Legacy survivors. Asmodeus turned to look at them.

"They are my friends, but I cannot go with them. I have no time left in this world..."

Beneath the strands of his dark hair, the Prince's eyes understood all they needed to. Lamord was dying, the last of his blood draining out. And all the grace that the heavens and the gods could grant this angel had now been spent.

This was the end.

Lamord reached out, picking up Asmodeus's blade, Metatron and placing it on top of the Sword of Tel'Nein.

"Go with them, Asmodeus. Help them... and become a force for something better in this world. They have... fought... so hard... suffered so greatly... But they are hope, Asmodeus. If there is but one thing I am sure of... they are what you have searched for... all your life..."

Lamord lifted a single sword, Metatron joined with Tel'Nein, repaired in all its splendour. A tear broke from the mad prince's trembling eye, cutting a line down his dirt-smeared cheek. He was starting to shake, the weight of all his attrocities returning to crush him. But despite all of this, Lamord still smiled upon this monster as the last of his life gave out.

"Things are so confusing now..." he whispered, "But hold on... in all things, we must find grace."

Their fingertips touched as Lamord passed the sword to Asmodeus. And as it left his hand, Lamord collapsed back against the rocks, his final breaths expelling.

"It is time for me to leave you..."

Memories returned to him, a flood of colours, faces and adventures. He smiled.

"But first...

He looked up into Asmodeus's eyes.

"... first... I want to tell you a story."

THE END

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