Apotheosis
The beast released a terrible howl, its massive paws ripping the hedge wall to shreds, hurling dirt and stone into the vast garden at their feet. Flint growled, frustration building into anger, as Kauma Gonjodonque advanced with claw and fang.
Flint: "Damn it, Gonjo. She isn't real!"
Gonjo: "Shut up!" The creature was made of flesh and tree limbs, styled in the form of a humanoid tiger, with nothing but a deer-like skull for a head. Twin, emerald lights were the only marker of the intelligence within — given the circumstances, perhaps a lack thereof — and the shred of robes still clinging to one paw. In the background, Lily Sparrow watched the proceeds with a worried mask, but as Flint met her eyes, the illusion of a good woman smiled back, her eyes full of evil. Another barrage of claws swiped at Flint's face and neck, but all of them missed. Flint: "You're not well—"
Gonjo: "I know what's real!"
Flint: "Then why haven't you hit me?!" Gonjo's teeth sliced into an after-image, Flint's natural entropy building and twisting about him, always a second ahead of the druid's movements. Had Flint wanted to kill Gonjo in this weakened state, it would have been over in seconds — he was honed from centuries against Jestyr, while Gonjo had all but retired. But friendships aside, he needed the old bastard, and they owed each other more than a few favors. Flint shuffled his deck, his sword becoming thin and round like a rapier, but without the point at the end. When Gonjo came again — tearing through a set of priceless roses imported from Day — Flint didn't even bother dodging, letting the entropy confuse his opponent. Flint whipped every claw that entered his domain, being sure to crack the sword right over Gonjo's knuckles, and slapped him on the nose after a poorly-attempted bite. The shadow beast howled loud enough to shake cobblestones out of the garden path, but Flint became immune to such parlor tricks long ago, and treated his old friend to a wicked slap across the throat. Gonjo buckled down, a little bit of the fight going out of him, a wicked claw rubbing at his neck. Back near the central courtyard, Lily stepped out from behind the ruined hedge. She smirked at Flint where Gonjo couldn't see, and when she spoke, her voice was not her own. Flint (Lily): "Fine... If I kill her, maybe you'll see reason."
Flint: "Gon—" But the beast inside couldn't be tamed, and despite his injuries, Gonjo tore his way into the air. His leap closed the distance in seconds, a little of his old savagery pouring through. Had it not been directed at Flint, he might have felt a little pride, but instead all he could find was anger. He would have to get serious— Lily gasped, and the garden shifted.
???: "—int! Get up, Flint!" Flint shook the rubble from his hair, his ears ringing from the blast. The garden was gone, replaced by rubble, the trees standing like gravestones at the edge of the yard. A menagerie of figures stood between the trees, their auras across the entire visible spectrum of light. Judging by their shadows... Flint: "Fuck. What happened?" Flint looked to Annabell, and accepted her help up. But as he touched the palm of her hand, his eyes flickered away from the gods sauntering towards them. Annabell was burnt, one half of her black robes in tatters, her silver hair matted on the same side. Her left hand was a crisp, clutching the remnants of a charred wand in a ruined fist. Annabell: "I had to advance the plan. Pharasma knows." Flint groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. As his eyes adjusted, he began to pick out the individuals, protected from the haze of dust by their personal shrouds. Pharasma was first among them, one half of her face burned back to the bone, her remaining eye wild and full of rage. Desna was behind her, shaped into a black panther with its fur marked by stars. Then golden Abadar, wise Ibra, timid Hylax, honorable Damoritosh, and the skulking Lao Shu Po. Flint could sense Triune and Talavet behind him, but there was a hesitance there... Gonjo shuffled up from the dirt, still in his bestial form, but with a deep crack splintering his skull. He looked at the gods with confusion, searching until his eyes found Lily — who appeared only as he searched for her. There was a hesitance in Gonjo too, as his eyes drifted to Flint, and sorrow lit the flames that marked his eyes. Gonjo: "Flint?" The ghost of Lily Sparrow hissed, and the illusion of her faded. Flint: "Sorry, buddy." He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. Black flame began to build over Gonjo, matching the black flame that filled his eyes, and all the color left the leaves and branches about his shoulders. Annabell flinched as Gonjo's body began to flutter between two realities, his heart beating audibly within his chest, until at last his true form was revealed. The Beast of Armageddon screamed, a name invoked between gasps of pain, roiling like rot over its time-bleached teeth. Gonjo: "Centurion!" The gods halted in their advance for a moment, a silence settling in the wake of the Beast's cry. It was all the time Flint needed. Flint: "Achates!" Flint grabbed Annabell's uninjured arm, leading her up the back of the Beast, and his shadow trailed behind him like a cloak. Figures erupted from the darkness, splayed out onto the ruined garden, and the gasps of the gods — save Pharasma — could be heard even at a distance. The Guildmaster came first, looking at the broken garden with disdain, as earth and steel began to build around his feet. Then a ragged dwarf, his hair wild with food and mess, one foot missing and replaced with living iron. Flint had not seen Torag in quite some time, and that time seemed to have done a number on him. Angradd was with him, and the great mass of fur and flesh must have been Oopla. Then the Omens, the Disciple, the Challenger, and the Ritualist — all radiating the mighty power of the Saints. Flint felt the lack of Pulura and Rowan strongly, and was surprised to see Karma not among their number. Altogether, they still paled in comparison to the gods before them... But Flint knew firsthand the strength of gods was not as it appeared. The Beast bucked beneath Flint as he settled in, Annabell's dead arm wrapped around him. The Deck of Many Things extended into a golden lance, and from within her robes, Annabell produced a staff made of seven, rainbow shards. Pharasma shook her head, and raised her hand in signal. The gods advanced.
Gonjo: "Shut up!" The creature was made of flesh and tree limbs, styled in the form of a humanoid tiger, with nothing but a deer-like skull for a head. Twin, emerald lights were the only marker of the intelligence within — given the circumstances, perhaps a lack thereof — and the shred of robes still clinging to one paw. In the background, Lily Sparrow watched the proceeds with a worried mask, but as Flint met her eyes, the illusion of a good woman smiled back, her eyes full of evil. Another barrage of claws swiped at Flint's face and neck, but all of them missed. Flint: "You're not well—"
Gonjo: "I know what's real!"
Flint: "Then why haven't you hit me?!" Gonjo's teeth sliced into an after-image, Flint's natural entropy building and twisting about him, always a second ahead of the druid's movements. Had Flint wanted to kill Gonjo in this weakened state, it would have been over in seconds — he was honed from centuries against Jestyr, while Gonjo had all but retired. But friendships aside, he needed the old bastard, and they owed each other more than a few favors. Flint shuffled his deck, his sword becoming thin and round like a rapier, but without the point at the end. When Gonjo came again — tearing through a set of priceless roses imported from Day — Flint didn't even bother dodging, letting the entropy confuse his opponent. Flint whipped every claw that entered his domain, being sure to crack the sword right over Gonjo's knuckles, and slapped him on the nose after a poorly-attempted bite. The shadow beast howled loud enough to shake cobblestones out of the garden path, but Flint became immune to such parlor tricks long ago, and treated his old friend to a wicked slap across the throat. Gonjo buckled down, a little bit of the fight going out of him, a wicked claw rubbing at his neck. Back near the central courtyard, Lily stepped out from behind the ruined hedge. She smirked at Flint where Gonjo couldn't see, and when she spoke, her voice was not her own. Flint (Lily): "Fine... If I kill her, maybe you'll see reason."
Flint: "Gon—" But the beast inside couldn't be tamed, and despite his injuries, Gonjo tore his way into the air. His leap closed the distance in seconds, a little of his old savagery pouring through. Had it not been directed at Flint, he might have felt a little pride, but instead all he could find was anger. He would have to get serious— Lily gasped, and the garden shifted.
???: "—int! Get up, Flint!" Flint shook the rubble from his hair, his ears ringing from the blast. The garden was gone, replaced by rubble, the trees standing like gravestones at the edge of the yard. A menagerie of figures stood between the trees, their auras across the entire visible spectrum of light. Judging by their shadows... Flint: "Fuck. What happened?" Flint looked to Annabell, and accepted her help up. But as he touched the palm of her hand, his eyes flickered away from the gods sauntering towards them. Annabell was burnt, one half of her black robes in tatters, her silver hair matted on the same side. Her left hand was a crisp, clutching the remnants of a charred wand in a ruined fist. Annabell: "I had to advance the plan. Pharasma knows." Flint groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. As his eyes adjusted, he began to pick out the individuals, protected from the haze of dust by their personal shrouds. Pharasma was first among them, one half of her face burned back to the bone, her remaining eye wild and full of rage. Desna was behind her, shaped into a black panther with its fur marked by stars. Then golden Abadar, wise Ibra, timid Hylax, honorable Damoritosh, and the skulking Lao Shu Po. Flint could sense Triune and Talavet behind him, but there was a hesitance there... Gonjo shuffled up from the dirt, still in his bestial form, but with a deep crack splintering his skull. He looked at the gods with confusion, searching until his eyes found Lily — who appeared only as he searched for her. There was a hesitance in Gonjo too, as his eyes drifted to Flint, and sorrow lit the flames that marked his eyes. Gonjo: "Flint?" The ghost of Lily Sparrow hissed, and the illusion of her faded. Flint: "Sorry, buddy." He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. Black flame began to build over Gonjo, matching the black flame that filled his eyes, and all the color left the leaves and branches about his shoulders. Annabell flinched as Gonjo's body began to flutter between two realities, his heart beating audibly within his chest, until at last his true form was revealed. The Beast of Armageddon screamed, a name invoked between gasps of pain, roiling like rot over its time-bleached teeth. Gonjo: "Centurion!" The gods halted in their advance for a moment, a silence settling in the wake of the Beast's cry. It was all the time Flint needed. Flint: "Achates!" Flint grabbed Annabell's uninjured arm, leading her up the back of the Beast, and his shadow trailed behind him like a cloak. Figures erupted from the darkness, splayed out onto the ruined garden, and the gasps of the gods — save Pharasma — could be heard even at a distance. The Guildmaster came first, looking at the broken garden with disdain, as earth and steel began to build around his feet. Then a ragged dwarf, his hair wild with food and mess, one foot missing and replaced with living iron. Flint had not seen Torag in quite some time, and that time seemed to have done a number on him. Angradd was with him, and the great mass of fur and flesh must have been Oopla. Then the Omens, the Disciple, the Challenger, and the Ritualist — all radiating the mighty power of the Saints. Flint felt the lack of Pulura and Rowan strongly, and was surprised to see Karma not among their number. Altogether, they still paled in comparison to the gods before them... But Flint knew firsthand the strength of gods was not as it appeared. The Beast bucked beneath Flint as he settled in, Annabell's dead arm wrapped around him. The Deck of Many Things extended into a golden lance, and from within her robes, Annabell produced a staff made of seven, rainbow shards. Pharasma shook her head, and raised her hand in signal. The gods advanced.
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