The Voyage

Venessa growled but fell to her hands and knee's.. coughing up blood. Bullet holes littered her body as her blood stained the brown sand black, she moved her head to look at Jon, glaring at him as blood ran down her lips "Do it!" she half-way coughed, wondering why he had not killed her already

Venessa continued to glare at the man, only growing angrier when he did not kill her, she tried to stand, but her body would not let her. Finally, he spoke... "What..?" was her response at first.. her name? Why would he want to know her name..? Veneassa's glare turned to a look of confusion for a split second before it turned sinister again

"Why is t-that a concern of yours, mortal" she spat back

Venessa continued to glare at the man.. Jon, her legs and arms began to shake as her vision moved in and out of focus... a medic.. why was that so familiar to her? She had never cared for anything but the death of others... or did she..? She shook her head, her injuries too extensive to think clearly. She looked back to Jon "..V-Venessa.." was all she was able to say before she collapsed into the sand, the world around her slipping into darkness.

Their leader had been devoured but it seemed that he had let these Runeterrans gain the upper hand far too steadily. They had had their fun for now. It was time for reality to come crashing down upon them.

Another portal ripped open violently, roughly 100 feet away from the group and something forced its way through the ether into their world. It was large, inhumanly so and quickly came into view with a violent charge.

What appeared to be a mounted warrior tore through the purple vortex. The beast he rode on was covered head to toe in black short haired fur and had the build of something like that of a minotaur. Small spikes protruded here and there upon its person, its head was long and boar-like. Three large horns protruded from its face, two from the side and one from the front. Its eyes were wide with a frenzied rage and radiated with a signature void purple color. Rows of razor edged teeth could be seen from its’ a gape maw. Worse yet was the stench that came with it. Even from their distance they could smell it; it reeked heavily of decay.

A faint miasma emitted about it, slowly eroding the environment around it. Fumes seeped out from its snout and from its ajar mouth. The foul gas fell heavily to the ground and trailed beneath him. The creature itself had to have been at least twenty feet in height.

Upon it rode something much smaller. A seven foot tall, mostly armor clad figure with black decrepit wings emitting from its back. What skin was revealed was grey and dead in color. Beneath that of a cylinder styled helmet was pitch blackness and a single red eye that pierced the abyss it was set in. He wielded a pair of twin long swords, ones that could have passed for bastard swords, that were as black as night. The air around it was noticeably colder. His sights were set upon Jon.

“The harvest begins…”

[/Size][/Center]

Pantheon managed to avoid the majority of the blast, but did not come out unscathed. After his feet touched upon the ground, he felt the familiar sensation of pain coming from his calf. There, lodged in his skin, was a roughly triangular shaped piece of metal, shrapnel from the blast. A small trickle of blood flowed out from the wound. However, the pain did not bother Pantheon, not in the slightest. He crouched down, and wrapped one of his hands over the metal shard, and with a single yank, separated the fragment from his skin. He tossed it to the side, and then returned to his feet.

A quick survey of the battlefield was all that was needed to tell this battle was not yet over. A lone rider came charging from the void lines, his target, Jon, the medic. Soraka had already intervened, but she was a healer, not a warrior. Pantheon doubted that she could take the rider on by her own. The surge of energy still flowing through his veins, Pantheon again mustered the strength needed for another jump, landing mere feet away from Jon and Soraka. The moment his feet touched the ground he broke into a full on sprint. He stopped his sprint, and slid the remaining few feet, placing himself between the rider and the medic. He planted the butt of his spear into the ground, and pointed the tip toward the chest of the horse the rider was mounted upon. He braced himself, and waited.

When the aura hit the Starchild, she felt filled with immense power. She reverted back to her original form, a creature of pure beauty. For the first time since she lost her immortality, she heard her precious stars speak to her.

"That thing does not belong here, be rid of it. Do not worry of your physical well-being, you have temporarily been reverted back to your immortal state."

She ran to the evil being, screaming as she seemed to glide over the sands now. Her ebony black hair flying wildly and her golden eyes burning. She called upon the stars to attack this great evil. The sky exploded into a million brilliant purple lights as the stars rained down on this new foe, piercing it's disgusting flesh.

[OOC NOTE: Give everyone a fair chance to respond. I'm sleeping for a while now. It's hard being evil.]





The two were upon Pantheon within seconds of his action. As he advanced the mighty Targon warrior felt something horrific, as if his very life were being snuffed out by even being close to the abomination. The feeling was suffocating, as if someone were piling stone slab upon stone slab on his chest.

While his maneuver was admirable there was thing he forgot to consider, that the beast he was riding upon might be intelligent. It pounced, leaping into the air through the use of his mighty hind legs. The Knight spread his wings, reaching a span of about 15 feet wide before he leapt off. Both blades were gripped in hand with ease.

It stuck its landing with a heavy crash before Pantheon, opening its terrible maw as it roared. And from it, it unleashed a terrible cloud of miasma. The stench of it was overwhelming, nauseating. But the cloud itself was more terrible as it enveloped the warrior after the breath weapon crashed against shield. It corroded, decayed what it touched. Metal would rust, flesh would burn and rot. And it spread about easily.[/Size]




Stars fell from the sky, raining down upon the Void Elites like artillery would upon any other battlefield. But it was a beautiful and powerful display, something an onlooker might look on in awe upon. They were accurate, pummeling and searing the dead flesh to The Grey Knight. His eyes fell upon the celestial being and set his sight upon her. His eye intensified within the darkness and then dimmed. The orb shrunk, though it glowed eerily beneath the helmet.

Soraka would know the first feeling. Silenced. Though this was a powerful one, it was just as familiar as that which she inflicted upon others. However the second feeling that came with it felt as if her blood had been replaced with gasoline and then lit a flame within her. It was as if she stuck her arm through a door, to reach for some kind of guidance and the door was slammed shut with no mercy in order to hold down her arm, to snap it and ultimately leave her there helpless.[/Size]