Shadows leap with hungry cries!
“““““HOOOOOOH!”””””
Straight, shining stakes pierce through the million hands reaching for them! Radiant points burst through, pluming dust of the dead shooting out when their unlife roars to flames! The men that exhale when thrusting lean forward into their strikes. Whistling falcons take flight above these bent men, then seek the lodge in empty hearts!
Running horrors collapse when vines sprout from their chests. Into the ground the creepers dig, then return the still-trashing enemies far below.
“FYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAARRREEEEE!” A slurring man yells, calling thunder to sweep the earth when the short ones step to the front of the packed spears. All at once the burning shots zigzag through the sea of moving blackness. Each corpse that shatters is a new ricochet, and each one drops the flickers of fire further until snuffing out.
Within the encroaching night, forward is the only destination that matters; for, all around you will you meet the dead, but only ahead is where the waning light of creation lands on now!
“… What lies in cold, alone, calls this End; to fill the dark, our inner light we send!”
“““““FORWARD! WE ARE THE WILL TO PUSH FORWARD!”””””
A heroic army of three races, and ever more as the survivors of the Coming End flee the edge of encroaching darkness to join it, hurries to beat three other foes to the conclusion. That owls now dart at its flanks, yanking howling corpses far into the shadows with hooks to protect them, proves how much it has grown.
(Barbarians name it the land of Castile! But why is this new location this problem’s source!?)
The walled city is immense, filling the lowlands in the east of this nation. Its land parcels beyond the massive gates are already devoured by the dead, the farmers and tennants added to the threat. Skeletal giants of an unknown race rose from the fertile grounds, now tirelessly bashing against the gates while accompanied by the sea of dead. They gather in chase of the western army that led them here.
“Inside! Get inside the city if the others want it!” The western king’s orders are rushed.
Since the endless night began, a ringed city capital has appeared with expansive stone fortifications and infrastructure. Multi-story buildings cram its streets, hosting wealth comparable to the Imperial Capital. Old walls of equally impressive height are what the dead try to climb, but fail to scale due to the sheer distances.
Once endless in numbers themselves, the black-furred berserking midgets that also siege this city’s northern wall poke up from beneath the earth on the other side. They throw themselves into the inner grounds past the outer fortifications, the cold fog filling the inner city parting as their warmth steals from them to leave them shivering.
The quarters they investigate bear the hallmarks of Petripolis in their construction, but choose sun-dried bricks stacked higher than plausible by the use of stone arches to make three-story square houses.
“Past this! To the older walls!”
An infestation of scampering kobolds aim for the inner fortifications rising at the center of the ancient-looking, sleeping city. Here, the breath might be stolen when taking in fifty-foot-high, spiked walls that angle and brace to keep as much out as they might in.
The customary waving emblems before the gates leading deeper are of a tall mountain upon which sits a crown of gold. An ominous coat of arms put to tattered banners are one an Emperor feels a great anger welling within toward.
The music that drives his obsession deepens in each thudding beat.
(No desires of the living, only a vessel waiting for me to claim it!)
Owls reach what they should not taint, too, sending the dead swarming after stars as their dark shapes leap over the walls with the aid of gales.
The moment they touch down, they sweep in to add to the dead!
“Shitbird, kobolds aren’t targets!”
“The blight that brought the dead shall join it!”
Those owls still loyal to their head bird own the city’s shadows. Into its recesses they repeat their atrocities against yapping bands of looters!
(Less opponents.)
Time is of the essence, but so are numbers.
From the sky the Emperor gauges the time left by measuring the encroaching blackness. It has consumed the mountains of the east and the great mountain of the west that held an evil mansion. The frozen north, too, is gone.
Standing against the dark entirely, the great floating continent of Tiahen-liun obeys the pulsating rainbow cross rising from the Imperial Capital. So long as its swirling energies wash over the forests, the blighted forms of wandering night flee in terror lest they explode to ash!
The Emperor’s own spear must thrust, but it will only do so once.
An ominous jade beacon in the sky floats ever closer to this revealed capital of Castile!
While barbarians march, an Emperor directs a fortress ferrying the greatest of those who aim at the heavens. The rest of his people can hide as best they can, chanting His name and hoping for the prize to be claimed.
(The goal has never changed.)
The prize’s name?
[Conquest].
Even if the rules become distorted, “to win” means “I have won”. Games end with a single victor to meet the sun.
“Forsake hatred!”
The only king to disobey the Emperor’s rules dares a last plea.
“My kin! Join us against the End! Add your will ever young, to make the old of spirit stronger with love!”
On her leaf, she comes within striking distance of the cardinal north, her eternal enemy.
“No love, only hatred! For, war is hatred!” This murdering owl sneers at the offer. With a sweep of her dark-clothed hand, she orders the owls at her side into flight. Once airborne, they swirl into living shadows of nightmarish proportions!
“War never ends! Neither does hatred!”
Bladed wings and talons that glow poisonous green, these screeching demons blur as they strike. One by one, every muscular protector merges with the shadow blades to knock toward the earth with the shriek of a violin quartet!
“From my own, luring away with promises so false…”
Every adviser leaves them both, and suddenly the kings are alone.
“… a song unsung by all should’ve never sought to be heard here, one whose lyrics idly spread contempt and faithless brotherhood. To meet is to despise, for instinct has become only this that we feel toward the doomed!”
“Even if unwanted, the song must be sung!”
“In NO Age would kin stand with despoilers!”
Two leaves circle the other, the cries of their kings rising!
“From first to last chime, these notes be rung!”
“Each claim is a distortion in water rippling! Seeing good in the reflection with those standing behind, mistaking how there is no other your hearts sees but yourself!”
One great, spinning leaf rips apart.
Who stood upon it now lands upon another.
“… From every race, in the Second Age, this alliance was sprung! Not alone, peace sought, a longing in all hearts begun!”
“Bringing death in form, our enemy from beyond!?”
Over shining scales this childlike hunter steps. Up onto another’s self, the two trees from different woods, one dark and one deep, face each other without pretense.
“If hearts all noble, how could this insult have spawned!?”
“Plucked Elf’s complaint is very dumb, because these ‘rules’ aren’t what Kol expected from the start.”
The cause of this disaster speaks errantly, bringing a fury that cracks the owl’s fingers and calls her to also rhyme with mockery.
“All this darkness, be as thy willed?”
Razor-sharp and covered in blood, a serrated blade whips up to the neck of another.
“This fell future, by these hands: killed.”
A stroking of drums starts up in the silence after every instrument crashes!
(The rules have gone awry, but this is…?)
“NAH!? Sneaking attack!? DARE ELF AGAIns—!?”
In a moment near murder, all sounds go still except the fast drum beats and the elves.
(This is proper regicide.)
Because it is proper, there is no rainbow to lash out even if the Emperor has lifted his cross toward these two that are now encircled by a bright spotlight on their scene.
Watching and waiting, tempting with words, the Emperor’s true enemy, this owl, has finally taken her eyes off of him.
But not her sight. Like Him, she “sees” all that is around her as changes in the circulation of the air caressing her skin. Invisible mental threads are the white-hot anger trying to choke out his own indignation.
This beast called “Aelf” is…?
(Strong in aura sensing, elves know the barest minimum of my Truth!)
Precisely because a pet who has always shaken in terror of conflict, run screaming from it in fact, does not even flinch now when oppressed, the Emperor has not struck.
Silent, unbowing, and a ever-smiling, the immaculate beacon of light in a dying world lifts one fanciful hand to her opponent’s hidden face.
“Future, unknowable; past, only guide…!”
One touch upon the owl’s bird-headed cowl sparks a rush of vibrant green from an elf’s milky fingertip! The dour gray-black of the cloak shines when it should be stealthy as this transfiguration spreads down it, and the Emperor hears the rustle of its feathers that should be silent!
(A Technique?)
A second hand touches the saw-blade, which shines so bright that the owl whips it away.
It sings when it slices the air!
“… in thy heroism, my own destiny be tied!”
Overtaken by the spreading bubbles of color that wash over her, an evil northern king stares in awe at the long, metallic forked rod she holds.
“Hide no longer, recall spring’s joy, and never again be alone!”
The snake moves her finger through the rod’s gap. A ghostly, vibrato tune plays depending on where it moves, then adds another tone with a new finger pushed through to also glide.
“As Pellaeon’s own, let us return the light, together, to his throne!”
The owl’s own ire evaporates when she adds her free finger to the snake’s two.
What can almost be a song starts to play when they dance them between the metal forks.
“To be… hero…?” When the whiny girl whispers more, what she says is nearly completely missed.
“… impossible…
dark woods, beyond…?”
A flash of bloody red brings the Emperor to squint, for in the impossible colors of aura that he penetrates with his sight, this color is not one he recognizes.
“… fearful…”
It stains both figures, the red deeper than all other fanciful floating lights that were gathering around these two dreamlike kindred…!
(Hmmm?)
Then, it’s gone.
After looking away with a pained denial, the owl seems to have stunned the eastern king into a stupor that darkens the overhead spotlight to almost a pinprick.
“Impossible to be impossible! A wide world awaits your journey!”
“… eh?”
But then the snake yells with unusual bravado, causing the grace overhead to explode into a cone that shines over every warrior below, too!
“When you call the wind, you are an elf!”
Jubilantly, the snake whips the owl to face away from her. Sliding her arms around and over the winged cloak, the eastern king starts to point…!
(Remind her of what is truly scary.)
The Emperor adjusts the collar of his heavy robe, prepared to accept the role he took on so long ago.
“[When you fight for justice against the true evil…!]”
The snake’s tail lashes out, striking a white, spinning object that aims for the owl!
(Yes, Four Seasons involves recognizing the true threat!)
For a moment the Emperor expects to nod in agreement, that they should team up against him despite disparaging him as “evil”.
“[… you are always the hero no matter what else, and that evil is now appearing!]”
A non-aligned enemy shall be removed after such a claim, no doubt by their joint efforts.
Yet, the Emperor’s aim is to be that evil they will claim he is!
(Better for you to fear me than what’s beyond the black clouds.)
For only one can protect them from what shines through the hea—!
“HAVE THE FOOLS WHO SACRIFICED THEIR ESSENCES FOR SO LONG TO ME FINALLY NOTICED?”
(That is not My voice doing the gloating!)
“Hah!? Falling, above!” The western king points at the white meteorite streaking downward!
Kobolds and owls both fly off their feet when the enormous true evil lands in the inner city to disperse its gloom. Glaring down at them is the high, hungry visage of an alpha predator standing upon a great cathedral with mighty columns!
“A THRONE OF BONES SHALL I, [THE WHITE TIGER OF EVIL WISHING], MAKE OF YOU ALL!”
Massive paws curl out their claws, inviting the would-be conquerors of Zennia to the capital which it claims! Like the western king, it chooses to bear the heavy weight of gold bracelets, vestment, and a deshret headdress with the name of “Zaarin” written vertically into it.
“[THE END] HAS ARRIVED IS AS I INTENDED, YOUR WISHES TWISTED TO AID ME IN MAKING A LAND OF ENDLESS DEATH!”
The Emperor’s brow twitches.
“Behold, the true evil that revived the dead! The servant of fearful death, in league with the great evil ‘Avarice’!” The holy snake of the east screams out, her sweet voice causing the tiger warrior to shudder with pain.
“KUH!? FAR TOO LATE IT IS TO SIMPLY REJECT MY POWER BY MY TRUE NAME! YOU FOOLS WHO SOUGHT TO MAKE WAR UPON EACH OTHER FOR EQUALLY FOOLISH REASONS! YOU MADE YOUR PEOPLES’ HEARTS OPEN TO MY LURE OF FALSE ETERNITY!”
From within, the Emperor feels a twinge of pain, then grinds his teeth.
“THERE IS NO JUST WAR!”
The bipedal hunting cat whose muscles ripple with power flexes proudly, swooshing its long limbs to cup them toward the two elves as if gathering a mighty power!
Its eyes bulge, arrogantly glinting!
“ONLY THE MARCH TO [THE END] THAT SATES MY ULTIMATE HUNGER!”
Blackness of night pulls from the inner city, ancient ruins that are marked by endless graves and crosses!
Upon the white tiger’s fur the blacking-purple of death wisps like the lights of the swamp!
“BE DEVOURED, DOOMED CHILDREN OF THE SUN, BY NEVER-ENDING LEGIONS OF MY CHILDREN!
KAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
“…”
In the silence after, a disciple’s squinting eyes slowly wander from this monstrous tiger that walks like a human beast to an Emperor that floats in the south.
(Do not… DARE compare us.)
“Kin! Hurry we must, to be the ones who send away the dark!”
The eastern king hugs the northern one, both now portrait-perfect visions of the beauty of nature. Colorful and resilient to the dark!
An owl that once tormented and teased is quiet, only nodding fervently before they fly on the leaf toward the city!
“Kol has many problems with this outcome!”
The western king spins violently on her leaf, unable to control it as her followers howl in terror while gripping the edge!
(This is not correct!)
No leaf is required for an Emperor!
Only for the grand pagoda which descends upon the city to come to hover over the ancient cathedral at the center of it.
The architecture of Xin unfolds at its bottom to clamp on, and then…!
A cascade of rainbow slams into the polished, dirtied tiles of the inner sanctum. The ceiling collapses around the stream, then disintegrates into the rainbow.
Out from this constant deluge strides a single man who requires no armor, followed swiftly by the clanking leader of every cadre in his service. They suppress the urge to turn on each other and satisfy the battle oaths they’ve made, biting their tongues as they bow in reverence of one worth more than all.
Once his entourage are all through, the Emperor withdraws his focus on the transport beam. He follows the old rivers of blood to the pile of dead at the center of this desecrated worship hall. Hundreds of bodies climb over each other in a desperate, soulful attempt to reach what must’ve meant far too much to them.
“Hoh, you’re quite at home already.”
They are all frozen reaching for a banner pole rising at the top, while those who died away from the pile dragged themselves as far as they could to join it. As if it is a consecrated treasure, the empty braziers and oil burners arrayed around the pile flare with spectral flames in sequence leading toward it.
“HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE WORSHIPED, BEYONDER!”
Zennia’s center of cold radiates as a chill flowing down from a mountain from this throne a man-walking tiger fiend seats upon. Death itself must be enshrined in the pile, for the immortal Emperor feels a tug at his unassailable vitality that has also left his sworn breathing harshly.
The tiger lifts a paw to point at him, gathering the mortality-stealing flow upon itself.
“YOU SHALL SPEAK MY NAME, NOW!”
“Demonstrate for Me how Zennian ‘gods’ die.”
Rainbow cross against extended paw, two prepare for the final war!
“Kol will help with that!”
A loose set of tiles in a far floor rockets toward the ceiling, then a septic backflow of black creatures storm the chamber!
“Black Tide, for all kobolds everywhere… learn to beat up evil god!”
“ “ “ “ “BET WE CAN!” ” ” ” ”
Rusty blades, pokers, and chipped axes are hardly god-killing weapons, but what’s left of an infinite horde is still infinite when rushing the distance! Their fur and skin freezes and cracks, but they feel no pain!
(Competition!)
“Back, slaves!”
“ARGH!? SHITTY BIRD ELVES, MORE!?”
Hooks halt this charge, an ingrained wariness of being pulled into being butchered pitting kobolds against what emerges from the shadows!
And the moment ancient beings exit the shadows, those vanish into the divine colors spilling forth from two of them!
“Evil intentions may never evil destroy!” A passionate godling snake extends her hand toward the kobolds, her fine face distraught. “Death cannot be killed! Only rejected by life!”
“Kol, feels like explanations keep failing to explain!?”
“Join us, oh western tyrant! Forsake conquest, and instead join the Will!”
“Why would Kol want to not win as one in charge?”
“Without joining, never may we defeat it! Only together have we enough to win!”
“Nah…?”
At that statement, the cathedral shakes violently. Moans grow louder from outside.
“HEY! LEADER! COMING THROUGH TUNNEL!”
The kobolds at the back of the pack start to howl with alarm, then fighting breaks out as something else rises from their massive tunnel.
“… Umu, Kol, can agree with that! Kol is in the Will thing!”
“The sun accepts you not!”
Stepping wickedly before the snake comes an owl, now shining with the colors of dawn as she screams at the enemy!
“What is tainted brought that taint, seeks no solace nor comprehension!”
A mithril-tipped hook aims at the western tyrant.
“Bringer of the dead, source of woes: join them.”
“But…!? What happened is then, what is now is—!?” A holy saintess intercedes.
“Unacceptable…! This… there is no contrition in arrogant kinds…!”
“‘Contrition’!? A sad day of now, full of mistakes, is not a weight that drowns all days ahead!”
Dissent breaks out in the Will, for the snake and owl start to rapidly argue.
In the darkness of the passage leading into this chamber, something breaks through and a stampede can be heard!
“HAHAHAHA! SO QUICKLY THE LIVING TURN ON EACH OTHER!” The great tiger that bathes itself in death mocks them while more living corpses dig up from under the stone walls around them.
“Nah!? Kol… isn’t ok to join!?” The western tyrant looks between the fast-talking elves and the Emperor, clutching her head while whipping her tail around.
“No, no, no, thinking about WHY is important…!
Elf says Kol caused dead problem? Kol wants to solve problem, though? But, Kol can’t be part of solution since Kol is Kol? Yet, if Kol wasn’t Kol, Kol could…?”
Her horde is still screaming, but the pretty knight slaps her fist into her other hand and nods.
“[Kol, will just not be this Kol!]” The insane tyrant hurls one of her own crying kobolds at the tiger, bouncing the poor now-deceased soul off the back of the irate monster’s fist.
“HAH!? Too much losing of others!” A sycophant beside the tyrant unsheathes a blade and ceases to cringe, instead plunging it between her shoulder blades! “DEATH TO TYRANT!”
“ “ “ “ “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” ” ” ” ”
Her own horde leaps at her to swing down their own!
(W-What?)
The Emperor own Xin’reh jump before him when he steps forward to save her, but only her arm is visible with the dogpile of kobolds delivering hundreds of strokes in the span of a few Turns. Black Vigor coats upon the betrayers and the floor as the bickering elves stare in disbelief when they draw back from their crime.
“OKAY! Problem solved, kakakaka!”
A random attacking kobold with a hand axe yanks the dead tyrant’s wolf-headed helmet off. Dripping Vigor onto her face, this assassin strikes a daring pose with both hands on her hips and chest out!
“Kol the Tyrant has been punished by kobolds, others just did what were told, did nothing wrong, not responsible, nope~!”
This suspiciously pink eyed and white haired apologist coughs into her hand, clearing her throat before a pronouncement.
“Kol the Second, Liberator of Kobolds, will join in alliance with fancy elves! All who agree, say ‘Aye’!”
“ “ “ “ “AYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEE!” ” ” ” ”
“Okay, we’re allied~! JOIN UP! RANKS FACE OUT!”
The kobolds run from the undead chasing them to the elves’ side, right in front of the evil tiger that stares down in disbelief.
“Who do kobolds hurt!?”
“ “ “ “ “ANYONE WHO ISN’T US!” ” ” ” ”
A new Alliance of the Will now consists of a tight defensive formation of kobolds facing their stolen weapons at a great evil tiger, boxing in a dozen mystified owls and a snake that seems to have gone blank of emotion while staring at Kol the 2nd.
(Absolute traitor.)
The Emperor cannot find the spirit to begin his dressing down of his disciple, if his disciple even still lives. He’s shaken by the impossible feeling of losing something that leaves him chilled far more than the aura of death the tiger cultivates.
“That… is certainly one solution…
AH! Emperor of Black!”
A honeyed cry for his attention comes from the ringleader of this growing farce.
When she lifts her arms as if to embrace him, the darkness of this cathedral gives itself up to the growing radiance of the overflowing mercy she exudes.
Bombastic playing heightens the impression that this is the climax, for flutes whimsically tweet behind her, while behind the Emperor he can hear a snare drum and the sound of rumbling like a storm.
“[Only together can we conquer death! Only love can forestall The End!]”
Her confidence drys his throat, then he pales when she twirls and then throws a beater stick. It hits the tiger’s head for no damage dealt.
In this moment he realizes, for the first time since he resolved to rule all, that he has discovered an enemy who uses no guile, nor shows pretense, nor holds true ire toward him.
The Emperor is made wordless by a shining offer that stuns even the dead legion swarming around them. Glancing to his side, he finds that merciless men, too, are just as awestruck. Though they should know it means execution, they insolently return His gaze with doubt causing their Inner Expanses to quake.
Only His response matters to them, and it is what the kind cone of light overhead widening over him anticipates.
He tastes a sweetness he’s not had before, of innocence and the desire for a peaceful world. The uniqueness of a being that was not born to war.
When this elf maid bats her eyes at him, her ponytail bouncing a bit when she invites him with her lifted arms, he almost wants to consider shedding the first tear he’d ever had cried.
“One sky.”
After blandly pronouncing this, the Emperor raises his cross again.
“… One… one sky.” The Emperor’s First Sworn stomps forth. An absolute juggernaut sweats under his armor, shaking in the rage that he can feel escaping his Emperor.
That rage firms him against both his fear of failure and the foes before him!
“ONE EMPEROR!”
After this monster screams this, the other cadre leaders begin chanting, too!
“ “ “One sky! One Emperor!” ” ”
Aura blazes to existence with the many shapes that mighty minds grant it!
“If you run out of space to bury what doesn’t die, your Emperor will send the rest beyond the clouds.”
Every rainbow blade, spear, bow, and other death-dealing device flares up with a longing to honor the Emperor’s mocking rhyme!
“KILL THEM ALL! ASCENSION IS AT HAND!” After the warcry, the First Sworn hurls his giant body straight at the magical wishing death tiger!
A silent chorus erupts with passion, chanting without words the need to kill!
“Eh?” The snake charm blinks when Techniques incinerate or rip apart the kobolds in front of her. In the span of a moment, her jubilant offer of friendship explodes so beautifully that the cathedral’s ceiling starts collapsing.
Chunks of heavy stone crush the undead and dying, while a white tiger lashes out with waves of purplish-black decay from its corpse throne.
“FOOL! DEATH CANNOT DIE!”
“Let us test your truth with Mine.”
The Emperor takes his time approaching the throne, letting his sworn get torn apart by the innumerable strange deathly effects that rot them from the inside out.
Every attempt at its life is one more little bit of knowledge for the Emperor to dissect.
“Protect the Priestess!” The once-owl king screams for all of their followers to sacrifice for the holy snake, a girl who stares at the Emperor as if seeing a fish that jumped up on the dinner table, and started dancing and singing for people to eat it.
“… But, it seemed like we were going to join together as friends…?”
(I — AM GOING TO WIN THIS GAME.)
The Emperor gathers all of his might from across space.
He can see in His mind’s eye the great emanator at the Imperial Capital which converts the power of beyond into Truth, and how it longs to shine upon the dark!
From every home, the prayers of his terrified people gather at His name inscribed over their door!
“Oh? Too much violence! That’s it, it’s too stimulating for my prince in only one way…!”
A snake elf slithers between the roaring kobolds, owls with sawblades, copper-clad aura masters, and multitudes of decaying bodies without concern.
“Games should have variety!” She gets within hearing distance of the Emperor who has become a living storm of rainbow and shouts at the same time that his cross starts to focus it!
“[If it’s love we’re looking for, then… why don’t we just do the fun thing that elves do to feel closer and one with nature, and ‘frolic’!? (PLAY TOGETHER FREE FROM RESTRAINT)]”
(What is your mental disability, my pet?)
Lifting up her tail, the king of the east slaps the rampaging death god tiger in the eye.
“GRAH!? LOVE…!? LOVE IS…!?”
What explodes when the music abruptly becomes sensual is not rainbow, death, or flesh.
Instead, the king of the east’s slender nakedness draws the Emperor’s gaze when her shining sashes expand into light, then shrink back to her skin as green leaves artfully placed over her teats, and a larger leaf at the delectable junction between her human and snake halves where nature has made a slight cleft.
“…
… Hmmm, mmm!?” She startles at the change, using her hands to test the absence of material at that cleft. “Yeeeah!?” Her tail pushes out there when she moans upon touching to present her angled passage. “I’m not excited by this…!”
“Oh, Kol is also naked, this seems pretty usual by now.” A new kobold leader has only small leaves to cover her boobs, too. “Missing even cloth armor is bad! Hah, lower survival…” When she clicks her tongue and pulls the big leaf from her crotch, it seems to be too much for the also naked kobolds around her.
“L-LEADER!”
“Nah? HAAH!?”
One of the naked males leaps at her, earning a fist to his chin that snaps his neck to a clean ninety-degrees. Foaming at the mouth when collapsing to the ground, more eye the kings that this one failed to accost, then other kobolds and owls, and even…
(What in My name is this!?)
To moans and cries of pleasure, what once killed falls under the omnipresent glow of pink heart-shaped leaves falling from above!
“Stay away!? I REALLY HATE KOBOLDS!”
“Only mate if strongest!”
The Emperor’s rage peaks, but his gathered rainbow has dispersed with the shock that hit him at the scene of armies rutting each other in dire earnest! More furious than with blades before do they sweat and grunt now.
“AGH!?” It’s a shell of black fury exploding from within the eastern and western kings that annihilates any erect males approaching. They’re flung into the nearest aroused participant.
(My sworn!?)
Copper-lamellar has given itself up to the fairy lights, for only tanned muscular men and women in loincloths are found among the orgies ongoing. Totally confused by their plights, Xin’reh cannot be seen directing any Techniques outward. Instead, the now beautified dead pile up to them like a harem of the passed, as lustful and renewed as a vivacious ghoul that flits through the Emperor’s mind.
After monk-like attempts to resist the caresses, even the enormous First Sworn screams out with an uncharacteristic exultation and then dives into a pile of human, elf, and kobold women.
“This fancy… none would have, should…!? But… WOULD, and THIS IS ITS REVELRY!?” Dicks and pussies, boobs and tongues, it’s a carnal assault in every direction that only an owl king manages to stay out of through skittish, acrobatic rejections. A black bodysuit abandons its stars, which stay on a slender sex-toy’s limbs as painted ones. Only the feather cape which shortens by hidden hands continuously plucking it remains to hide her.
A pleasure palace would have more order, but still none are brave enough to lunge for an Emperor until a beast growls.
“SO… YOU SEEK TO DESTROY MEEEE!?”
The Emperor’s spine chills when he detects a feminine hunger. He witnesses a white-furred-and-haired, gold-clad amazonian beast step down from her pile of erect and moaning bodies. Her curly, casual ponytail hangs so low it invites aggressive hands to try to yank it back.
“THAT CANNOT BE ALLOWED… BUT, YOU WIELD WHAT’S DESTINED TO SEEK MY END…?” A western nose and cheeks give her a fierce, but also lurid, personality when she winks at a low-hanging fruit.
Breasts so large that they wobble like sloshing melons are offered to him as a temptation that has his manhood defying the timeless discipline of a god.
This white tigress who is naked as the day she was birthed widens her stance, then leans back and thrusts her sopping cunt at him in such a needy, ugly fashion. Hairy but trimmed over the entrance, her muscles alone make the depths wink at him!
(Such a personal attack upon my tastes!?)
Death should not take the form that mashes so many of his high points in women together!
“I SHALL ENJOY YOUR GODSLAYER STABBING INTO ME, YET I WILL NOT PERISH WHEN ‘DYING’ FROM IT! KAHAHAHAHA!”
(… Do not…)
A babbling snake slaps at anything near her, while a white kobold uses other kobolds to smash what ruts in front of her. They both try to reach the Emperor, but are quickly hidden by the orgy.
The sensual screams of the violins in the Emperor’s ears, along with the giggles of voices, lift him toward this copulation! His mighty scepter is freed by invisible hands pulling off his loincloth!
(Do… NOT…)
No matter how much he’s soaked in under this mind-rending deluge of pink, it will still never be enough to quench his burning heart!
That a pretty-faced tigress touches her tongue to the tip of her chin in anticipation of him is revolting in its hungry arrogance.
“DELICIOUS! LET ME DEVOUR YOUR GRE—!”
“You…”
All of the rainbow of creation…!
What gathers should be rainbow, but is instead a storm of black which twists and sends the gathered painted colors of fairies fleeing from it!
The music discombobulates into disparate instruments that wildly play!
“[… shall not piss on my favorite game, WHORE!]”
“AAAGGUUAAAH!?”
Ringing bells scream out instead of the usual disintegration when announcing his true name, followed by the sound of glass shattering.
“[I AM XIN!]”
The band crashes with their instruments, crying out as whistles, swishes of leaves, and crackling!
Slamming the pitch-black cross against the giant tigress’ head banishes every scent, sound, and color in sight into a spray of bubbles that pop one-by-one until the Emperor falls through them.