Written by Epicstu Wyyvernwriter and Robert Whitmore

Ember, Trace, myself, Leonidas, and Snow walk on viscous ground toward a possessed God. Our God. “Remind me again why our Demon army is not at our backs,” Leonidas irritably comments.

“When they fall they will return to Hell and the Devil will not allow us to call them back,” I make my rebuttal.

“Pip is right,” Snow agrees. “We should save them for when Heaven’s Legions attack, when we will need them the most.”

“This ground is disgusting,” Ember comments on Nyarlathotep’s gelatinous bio-swamp landscape. “Dust, turn it to ash and bedrock.” Dust, Ember’s Wyyvern of the End, flies out from under her hood and spreads their wings, but only is able to terraform half of the battlefield before fear drives them back under her hood again. “Don’t sweat it, bud. Even The End himself turned tail from that horror. We can work with this.”

A grinning smirk grows on the possessed Edward’s face. Taking a moment to examine Zesrial’s now grotesque and rusted blade, “I know, I know,” he says to her. “First we will have some fun.” Trace aims Q and fires a shot that should have gone between the possessed Edward’s eyes, but is instead caught by the Nekolich. Stu manifests a new body before the one that caught the shot even hits forty-five degrees falling backwards. His arms are crossed and his head tilts, ever so slightly, to the side bearing an emotionless face. There is no emerald green, only the auraless eyeless mangy corpse of a dead pitch black saber tooth anthropomorphic cat floating, ever so slightly, off the ground. “Take them,” the possessed Edward orders. 

Stu resurrects his recently dropped body and the two Nekolich’s creep toward us with sinister intent. Groaning in anger at all that has past up until now, Leonidas throws his spear and draws his sword and shield. “Spartan, be careful or he will overwhelm you!” I attempt to warn him as he kills Stu after Stu by throwing his weapons out only to call them back. It is not long before Snow charges in attempting to push through to the possessed Edward, but instead only doubles the Nekolich’s already heavily numbered opulence. “Or we can make this harder than it has to be,” I comment under my breath. “Ember, get Trace to Nyarlathotep before more of our friends show up to play?” I request while drawing both the great sword my Lord Edward had been buried with after his first life and my own great sword. Deathsend was her name. Of a golden colored metal that the Dead can not touch I forged her in my past. I approach the still ever growing numbers of the Nekolich and begin to cull them. All Nekolichs I cut down with Deathsend do not drop bodies and do not resurrect, but Leonidas and Snow have already fed his numbers too quickly.

“Dust!” Ember shouts and Dust flies out again, this time becoming big enough to ride. The Wyyvern of living dust shakes and grunts for her to hurry and get on his back “Trace! Get on!” 

“I know I shouldn’t say it, but this might be too easy,” says Q as they take to the air. Suddenly Dust is pulled down by their tail and thrown back. Their tail bitten off by something as though it had been made of flesh and bone. 

The end of Dust’s tail slides into a large theropod mouth and disappears behind a gulp. “Shit,” a look of concern grows on Ember’s face, “Dust! Get inside! Now!” Dust obeys disappearing into her hood as a the bellowing roar of the Undead top of the Wyyvern food chain shakes the multiverse around them to its core. A sphere of the Wyyvern element known as The End forms and grows to immense size until it burst into a beam that directly hits Ember. In the heat of our battle we fight in silence at witnessing Ember Fray’s end, but then a roar of equal strength sounds as a literal storm of pure The End shoots straight up into the air, shaking the multiverse again, and then ceasing as quickly as it had began. “That was delicious,” Ember wipes her mouth with a toothy grin. “Here allow me to return the favor,” she punches the ground and from it a fist of The End uppercuts the taken Ilean as the massive golem Ember summoned climbs out and bellows angrily at her. Running at Ilean the golem pummels her with massive fists before ripping the top half of her body clean off from her jaw to her tail. Turning around the golem smiles and gives Ember a thumbs up. Then Ilean, her body already resurrected and reformed to its former glory, chomps down over the golem’s head, picks it up, and shakes it as she swallows it chunk by chunk. She roars at Ember who smirks as she lifts her hands ina come at me gesture, “I hope you are hungry,” and seven more golems, each uniquely different in its own rite, emerge from the bedrock landscape, “because I can do this all day.” They surround Ilean, pounding their fists together, bellowing, and stomping the ground, “and you aren’t going anywhere as long as I draw breath.” 

Suddenly a 1000mm cannon ball strikes Ember and she slides back barely able to keep her footing. Shaking off as the solid graphene tank pulls along side of her and a little girl with a creepy grin emerges from the unsealed cockpit, “What’s the matter coyfox, you look tired.”

Returning to her feet with an irritated grunt Ember scoffs before bellowing a roar of storming The End that causes Mad’s tank to decay and become inoperable. “Mad, you really should take better care of your vehicles.” 

“Betty!” Mad grones, “grrr, you’ll pay for that!”

“You are outmatched runt,” Ember warns her. “The golems I have summoned are of the seven seals that hold The End himself and non-elemental. Ilean can not eat them and she is not getting past them. You need to fight Nyarlathotep’s…” 

“She is not strong enough!” a twisted multi-voice echoes from Mad’s lips. “Your friends are being overwhelmed by my Nekolich and soon you will lose. My victory is all too easy and I still have more to assault you with awaiting my call. You have nothing… ah… irritation!” 

Trace, having reached the possessed Edward, was attacking him with everything he had. “That wall is impossibly resilient,” William comments. 

“Needs to be nerfed,” Q agrees.

“Hahaha,” the twisted and maddening multi-voice of Nyarlathotep and his Edward and Zesrial echo with cackling glee. “I never expected you, Yog-Sothoth, to be so foolish. You cannot hope to win against me head on.” 

“I’m a Wyyvern Knight,” Trace replied with his first words in millenniums. “Standing against the hopelessly impossible is my job.” 

“Then die doing your job!” the possessed Edward shouts. The Nekolich overwhelms Pip, Snow, and Leonidas as they fight hard to their inevitably approaching end when suddenly the Nekolichs turn to dust and return to their original corpse. A cage of sky blue energy surrounds him. Ilean lets out a roar that causes Mad to drop, no longer under Nyarlathotep’s influence. “What is this, who frees the Dead from me! Who cages my Nekolich!”

“I am sorry I could not free you, Stu. You are stronger in Will than I and he uses Madness to twist your Will against your own. You must free yourself,” he says as he walks past the caged and still possessed Nekolich wearing the wooden sandals of his long nonexistent mentor. “Until then I cannot allow you to harm your family any longer.” He is a tall slender man wearing a light brown wizard’s hat and light grey robes that is old yet untattered. In his left hand he grasps his walking stick, a jagged staff of silver forged from a fallen Agent’s Wyyvern with a crescent moon shaped blade resting at its peak and a sharpened point at its end. In another left arm, Undead and stitched into the flesh of his left underarm, he holds a large book containing everything on Necromancy both magical and scientific written in a tongue that can only be read by the Dead. His right hand glows with sky blue Willpower and the expression on his face is focused righteous anger. “Nyarlathotep! You enslave, mistreat, and bend the Dead to vile purpose.” The Dead were the only family he had ever truly known, “You will answer to me.”

“And who, pray tell, are you to oppose my Will?” the possessed Edward inquires. 

In unison all Dead and Undead of the Multiverse apart from the Nekokich and those Wyyvern Knighted or Forged proclaim, “This is Michael of the Dead! Our Living Brother! Our loyalty to him will not be compromised!” and with them Ilean roars the same proclamation. 

“Fine then,” the possessed Edward exclaimed in irritation. “Let us see how you contend with my Wyyvern Knights.” As they drop in before Michael, myself, and the others as horrific and maddening versions of their original persons the possessed Edward chuckles maniacally. “They are your friends. What will you do now if not harm them.” 

“Kill them. The Undead first and then the Living last,” Michael did not hesitate his words. “If we can beat Nyarlathortep in less than twenty-four hours, then I will be able to bring the fallen Living back to Life in full.”

“A time limit?” Mad sighs. “Great.”

A fifty caliber shot ricochets off an Undead aura protecting Michael followed by several others in rhythmic succession. “Ember, I do believe your boss wishes to include himself in this, our little war.”

“I see him,” Ember replies. “Mad, think you can help me with Pillowyspu?”

“Betty was my only two seater,” Mad replies with crossed arms and expression.

Ilean leans down and gestures them to get on her back, “you do have an intelligent and Undead Tyrannosaurus Rex,” Ember rebuttals. 

As they mount Ilean, “that’s Wyyvernsaurus Rex,” Mad chuckles at her clever word play as Ilean bolts full speed toward where the shots are coming from and Dust deflects the shots away from Ember and Mad.

“Michael,” I respectfully address my oldest rival. “I’m sorry for all I’ve done to you and your…”

“Allow me to stop you there, Pip.” Michael interrupts without even turning to look at me. “You tore the first of the Dead to take me in. My mentor and for all intensive purposes, my father.” Then he turned his gaze to me and smiled, “that being said, I forgave you long ago. It is good to fight by your side rather than at your front.”

“Did you bring Mirrors?” I ask. 

“How else will we hold back Loki,” Michael replies. “We have nothing that can best his armor, so we must match his defence.”

“This is going to be a long fight,”  I comment and Michael nods in agreement.

*          *

Smashing my face one more time by Finwe from tossing me after my last attack. as he steps past me. My inner rage seething to destroy him from the constant training and berating he keeps doing to me. Egil is the only one among the Elves Dwarves and humans that seems to understand me and let me have fun here and there. Our drinking competition the other day was amazing. For the first time in my new life someone out drank me. Finwe looks at me on the padded floor with a look of  Pity emanating from the depths of age. He extends his hand once more for me to take as he lifts me up once more. In the process he explains again. 

“You must control you self more bring all your feelings and movements into balance. As aggressive as your fighting style is. It can not win every battle. There is always a careful balance of aggressive and defensive. Step back further and wait for my first move. Then counter it.”

Asking him. “My fighting style has worked against all my opponents but not you. I really wish to pummel you until you beg for death now from all this Humiliation you have caused to me.” he smiles a short bemused smile back.

“You let your rage and anger cloud your thoughts right now. Clear your mind. The opponents you have faced before have not been alive more than 1 hundred years. I myself am over 5,000 years now and have been training since I was five years old. Plus I am not a full blood elf. My mother Avisern is the very living force of our Island home. My reaction time and skills surpass many among this ship. But instead of flaunting my skills over them all I have Pursued the path of a Teacher and Guardian of my kin and all others who fight alongside us. That is my goal in life and with it I can focus my mind and bring inner peace to myself inspiring others in the process. What do you wish to pursue as your life goal?”

The thoughts of my goals surge through my mind. To Be able to free my God Edward and serve him. Also to finally have a family, a loving Husband and children. 

Finwe looks at me as if reading my thoughts. Raising his training sword and standing defensively.  Looking quickly to Egil on my right who smiles directly at me through his big brown beard. He raises his fist and nods to me in a you can do this gesture. Preparing myself stepping forward for once instead of lunging like that last dozen times. He counters my move speaking at the same time.

“Finally she begins to understand and change her style.”

Stepping 3 steps back. He steps in closing the distance. Beginning to twirl his sword. He charges me for the first time ever. Spinning himself and his blade at the same time creating a full shield where I can find no point to penetrate his defensive attack. Instead of meeting his attack. Dodging away from him I throw my own training sword at his feet. He leaps off the ground still in mid spin. Unwrapping my long tail from around my waist I whip him with my tail as he lands. Deftly catching my tail before it could connect with him. Before he could try pulling on my tail I shout out “IRON RAM!!” headbutting him full on the chest his eyes wide with awe as he lets go of my tail and sails away from me. Landing with a large thud his body goes limp. 

Vladimir hears the commotion from his gun range and dashes over his new Laser rifle still in hand. Galadriel and Nëastar walk over to view their fallen Brother. I too go over looking down On Finwe’s fallen body. The Magical blue aura around him beginning to fade turning white. Galadriel crouches next to him and places her hand on his chest.

“Hmmm you just killed my Husband …Interesting.”

Commenting back at her.

“I just killed your Husband and your not even mad. The least I expect you to do is try killing me to Avenge Finwe. His soul will now be used by hell.” Nëastar giggles. 

“You don’t understand do you.” shaking my head she continues telling me. 

“We are not of your Multiverse and thus if we die here our souls can not be used by any of your gods. That and Galadriel, Finwe and I share Avisern’s blood. Only Avisern herself can decide when we meet our end and finally experience full death.”

Looking very quizzically at both of them. The Light from Finwe’s body then explodes pure white. Covering my eyes just enough to stop getting blinded as Magical Blue Symbols streak into him. Finally the light subsides and his skin shins blue once again. With a deep breath he opens his eyes. Looking up at me.

“You did it you passed your test. You found how to control yourself. Next you just need to focus your skills to not kill immediately.” 

“So you are not mad that I just killed you?”

“A few years ago before my second awakening I would have remained dead. I think you are ready to fight along with us for now. Though one is never done learning and improving one self. Go rest for now. I will call for you onto the bridge later.”

Going over to the weapons stand placing the training sword on. Egil and Vladimir follow behind me out of the training room.