Cypher was not the image of power Logos had envisioned. He was the antithesis of magnificence, frail and worn. Regardless, Logos trusted the Goddess of Life and proceeded to ask for help.
Unknown to Logos, Akara had already approached Cypher and had told him of the opportunity to destroy the other two Gods. "You should kill Pathos first," she advised Cypher. "Logos is idealistic and weak; him you can kill at your leisure."
In preparation to confronting Pathos, Logos reached out and drew the clouds around him. From the clouds he fashioned a blade so beautiful it masked its deadliness. This blade he gave to Cypher, and together they journeyed to the deepest valley of Carnac where Pathos resided.
As they approached, Pathos stepped out from the shadows and brandished a spear of supernatural wood. It radiated life itself and there was a feeling of serenity that came from it. There was only one who could have created such a weapon, and she watched from a distance.
The battle was swift yet furious. No words were exchanged by the combatants as Cypher charged, his gleaming sword held high. Pathos blocked blow after blow. Logos watched the fight unfold, praying Pathos would meet his end. Evenly matched, the gods turned to their individual powers to give them an edge. Pathos swept away the sun and the stars sending the world into darkness. Cypher was momentarily blinded. Pathos lunged, his spear grazing the shoulder of his opponent, and the spear glowed green. Yet the light from the spear gave Cypher the vision he needed and he severed the left arm of Pathos.
Pathos thundered in pain, and fell to his knees, his lifeforce draining out of him. While Cypher and Logos looked upon him triumphantly, subtle changes occurred within Pathos and Cypher. Although appearances did not change, lifeforces changed places, transferred from one to the other. Pathos through the means of changing magic now resided in the body of Cypher, whereas the essence of Cypher now lay in the torn body he had wounded only moments earlier.
Though in great pain, the spirit of Cypher refused to die. He hurled the spear he clutched at what had once been his own body. Pathos was so caught up in celebrating his own genius with changing bodies that he did not see the throw. The magical spear went through the God's heart, and destroyed him.
Pathos lay dead, while Cypher lay dying. Cypher then realized his powers were no longer confined to destruction. Because of the change of souls, with some effort Cypher could induce change much like how Pathos once could. Focusing his fledgling abilities on his severed arm he first stopped the blood from flowing. He then pulled at sinew and bone making them expand until they eventually took the shape of the missing limb.
Fully recovered, he stood, and with new strength he shouted for all to hear, "I am reborn! Fear me for I am now unmatched!"
As a display of strength he shattered the valley and out of the rubble fashioned a monument not of stone but of glass. Its sharp edges reached out in all directions.
In time, humans flocked to marvel at its construction and pay homage to its creator, the new and powerful Pathos-Cypher entity.
0
In the disturbing wake of the battle between Pathos and Cypher, and the coming into being of the Pathos-Cypher entity, Carnac itself began to show signs of change. Flowers lost their scent, the seasons became unpredictable, and ground water occasionally rose up brown, as though rusted. And more changes were coming.
All these things were not the doing of Pathos-Cypher. He was too busy enjoying the attention of his new found subjects.
Years passed, and over time humankind divided into six great Kingdoms: war monger Hellsgarem of the Deserts; Buegrant with its ports and ships of steel; the white city of Arrdeam; Planisad, famous for magnificent harvests; Brisbia, the center of commerce; and finally El Morad at the farthest end of all the Kingdoms.
As these Kingdoms formed, changes in the world affected not only existing creatures, but� other things. With each passing year, there were more and more sightings of enormous creatures that looked like wolves and bears but were more terrible and more violent. Even more surprising were beings of stone and magic. Worst of all were the animated corpses bent on bringing all life to the level they understood: un-death.
Before long, these hellish creatures had increased to such numbers that even human cities with their high walls and staunch defenders could not repel them. The first to fall was Planisad, thus food resources were scarred. Soon after, Brisbia and Arrdeam fell. Even the mighty barbarian Kingdom, Hellsgarem, did not survive � it was they who torched their own city instead of letting it fall. The survivors flocked aboard the ships of the Buegrants who themselves were abandoning their city, fleeing for El Morad.
King Manes, ruler of El Morad, took in the refugees without prejudice. Those able were given places in the army, further bolstering the defenses of the only city which had yet to be attacked. New battlements were raised, supplies were brought in, and more weapons were forged. The citizens of El Morad were determined not to let their city fall and those who had already fled were resolute in their loyalty to their new home. El Morad had become humankind's last stronghold. Should it be lost, humanity would be doomed.
For seven long years they fought the undead masses and other monsters and all those years King Manes prayed to the gods who seemed to have turned a deaf ear and a blind eye. Meanwhile, the people withstood, and even became stronger.
After the first two years of fighting, those in El Morad had grown accustomed to attacks. Their position was strong and they improved in the ways of war. Eventually, they dared to venture beyond the safety of the walls. Tunneling into the mountains behind the city provided metals, and wood they harvested by sending armed bands into the forests. Food proved a challenge at first, but by relocating much of the populace into the mountains and underground, enough space was vacated within the walled city for crops to be planted.
By the third year, seasoned veterans began hunting the monsters, rather than just waiting to repel attacks. These warriors brought back stories of adventure and glory. Soon these parties organized themselves into what would be known as the Knights. They lived apart from El Morad and dedicated their lives to their duty; some of them would even learn the arts of magic and healing. The years passed, and the Knights grew in power.
On the last night of the seventh year, something extraordinary occurred. Red rain began to fall upon El Morad. Far away, a green fog appeared and inched closer to the city. A warning had sounded. For the first time in years, all had run for the gates, and more than one would admit that they were afraid.
Sun Jun 15, 2014 9:04 pm by ulphrlanet