Hey.

Hey. Hey! Wake up. Wake up. There is no time to be sleeping, not right now. Not while there are things to be done. This bid requires your full attention... and your mind, for details... So I need you to wake up. Wake up for me, son. It's very important. I wouldn't have handpicked you if it weren't. You remember right? Remember what it's time to do? Yes well... Let's do a little review. Review, review is good. Helps us set the record straight. Helps us to remember who is in charge here... so, recall if you would...

"HE IS US."

Yes. That's it. That's good....

...BUT TELL ME MORE.

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HAVE YOU ABANDONED HUMAN REASON? OR HAS HUMAN REASON ABANDONED YOU?

1. Reason, or lack thereof...?
>• "It was the... the pit of despair. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't find the reason, or the will, to exist. None of this matters, not me, not even you." (NIHILISM)
>• "The end is inevitable. Why are we struggling with accepting what's to come? None of it is real. The Emperor is dead. So why not accelerate?" (FINALITY)
>• "When there was nothing left for me, nowhere else to turn, I found solace and requiem in this dark, and help. This was where I discovered passion, this is where my brothers lie." (THE GREY AREA)
>• "I've always hated it. Hated this whole diseased world, and the cockroaches crawling on its surface. My family, my 'friends', everyone you meet in life showed me the truth behind the lies of things like love and kindness. The world only hurts you, and I want to hurt it back." (VENGEANCE)
>• "I love it. The sensation of killing another. Why should their life matter to me? This world is propelled by chaos and violence. It's coming for ya, best bet is to dodge it, not ask it to stop. If you can't defend yourself, and someone kills you, they won. You lost. It's the law of the jungle, it's nature. Call it what you like, call it evil, it's never going away." (STRENGTH)
>• "Where would those who fight for what they believe in and call 'good' be without my kind? Would ideals soon contract and collapse, and then have them at each other's throats? Destroying this innocent world that doesn't deserve their blows? No. Focus your attention elsewhere. Focus on me, for I am your evil." (BALANCE)
>• "KILL! KILL! DESTROY! DESTROY IT ALL! BURN! BURRRN! HAHAHAHA! BURN!" (SENSELESS)
>• "If I tell someone to do something, and they disobey, I maim them. It's just that simple. You stand against me, you die, don't matter who you are. How inept do you have to be to believe every single human vermin born deserves the right to live? Culling the species is a duty." (MALICE)
>• "Why deny anything? Based on errant thoughts? Why deny people certain pleasures? People should be allowed to feel what they want, when they want. I just want that. I want to feel. I want what makes me happy in my own little twisted way..." (HEDONISM)
>• "I don't care for ruining the world, burning it or destroying everyone. I just want to be free, to do as I want with my life. I just want my space, and to never be invaded by others. Organization only brings problems and pain. I want out." (FREEDOM)
>• Write in.

>>5994687
>• "I don't care for ruining the world, burning it or destroying everyone. I just want to be free, to do as I want with my life. I just want my space, and to never be invaded by others. Organization only brings problems and pain. I want out." (FREEDOM)

>>5994687
>"The Yellow Emperor is Absolute. His New Eternity is inevitable, his armies inexhaustible, his servants, invincible. By right of might, the whole of this world is laid at his feet in worship, but not me. His victory is preordained, his wisdom is profound, his power, infinite. It would be better to kneel, but I will not. I fight for no other reason than that there is no greater foe to stand against, and to submit to another, even sagacious Huangdi, because defeat is certain is cowardice, worthy of only contempt." (FUTILITY)

>>5994687
>• "I love it. The sensation of killing another. Why should their life matter to me? This world is propelled by chaos and violence. It's coming for ya, best bet is to dodge it, not ask it to stop. If you can't defend yourself, and someone kills you, they won. You lost. It's the law of the jungle, it's nature. Call it what you like, call it evil, it's never going away." (STRENGTH)

>>5994687
>Write in.
>"I can't take it anymore. I am strong of body, but weak of mind. These thoughts, these demons chewing me up from inside, they'll kill me if I don't heed their call. But I can't live with my actions, so I pledge my identity, my very being, to you. Let me not turn away in horror as I turn ones skull to shrapnel. Let me not reminisce on the wake of blood I leave behind me. Let me feel nothing, as I satisfy my shadow." (URGES)

>>5994687
>>• "The end is inevitable. Why are we struggling with accepting what's to come? None of it is real. The Emperor is dead. So why not accelerate?" (FINALITY)

>>5994739
+1

>>5994687
>• "I love it. The sensation of killing another. Why should their life matter to me? This world is propelled by chaos and violence. It's coming for ya, best bet is to dodge it, not ask it to stop. If you can't defend yourself, and someone kills you, they won. You lost. It's the law of the jungle, it's nature. Call it what you like, call it evil, it's never going away." (STRENGTH)
I'm up for some classic might is right rascal https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oo-xNc3LVlg

>>5994687
>• "Why deny anything? Based on errant thoughts? Why deny people certain pleasures? People should be allowed to feel what they want, when they want. I just want that. I want to feel. I want what makes me happy in my own little twisted way..." (HEDONISM)

>>5994768
Actually fuck it, let's go with that

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I see... So you're a real badass, aren't you? A real hard ass. No nonsense type. Gotta play it by the rules of nature, huh? Filter the weaklings out. So long as you're the one racking up the high score, you're right, aren'tcha, badass?

Review is over kiddo. Record's been set straight. You know who you are. You're slime, that crawls all over yourself. Yeah, you're trash, little human trash, and you gotta go enforce those fucking stupid little opinions of yours on others. Only way irredeemable garbage like you feels validated in yourself, huh? And I wouldn't have it any other way... hhmhmhmhm...

...

I'VE GOT SOME WORK FOR YOU, MY LITTLE MONSTER. ONLY YOU'RE TRUSTWORTHY ENOUGH TO GET THIS KIND OF TASK. STRAIGHT FROM THE SPIGOT TAP YOU DRINK FROM. I CHOOSE YOU.

"Me. Chosen. The chosen one!"

YOU WILL GO TO THE QUAINT LITTLE SLUM OF KLOA IN THAT SIRAN SHITHOLE. YOU WILL KILL EVERYONE THERE. SLAUGHTER, STAB, GUN DOWN AND MAUL EVERY SINGLE MOTHERFUCKER THAT WALKS OR CRAWLS. YOU WILL GATHER THE FRESH DEAD, AND ALL THAT SWEET IMPURITY YOU'LL UNLEASH.... YOU WILL CONSTRUCT A NECROTOWER, AND BRING MY POWER TO THE LAND.... THIS IS WHAT YOU WILL DO. NOW GO, AND DO IT.

AND REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU FAIL ME. I'LL PLUG YOUR HOLES AGAIN. DADDY WILL SPANK YOUR LITTLE HEINIE. I MIGHT JUST DO IT ANYWAY. WHO KNOWS...? HMHMHMMHM.....

"Aaaahhh...! AAAAAAAAARRRHHHHHHHHH!"

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A Monster screamed in the face of the Devil, and jolted awake from restless sleep, its eyelids constantly affixed, stapled, never allowed to again look away from the vision. Itchy, it brushed the fabrics if only to relieve those buildings tears in stricken eyes. A flex of digits was performed to check how many were still there, like a subconscious tick picked up along the way came.

The floor and cabin jostled up and down, subtle. The rails racketed. Dim red light passed by each second. Ahead of him they stood, like any disciplined soldiers in order. The men stare blankly ahead, awaiting what they're coming closer to. Guns loaded, one of them sharpening the bayonet. Another two whisper silently, talking about how eager they are, agreeing first chance they get to drag a woman off somewhere alone once the initial craze is over. Beasts in uniform, well behaved until they're let off the chain.

The Monster's troop.

"H-How much furt-hurr."

'We're not that far. About to exit the tunnels now, Ovate.'

"Goo-good."

Tapping his chin. Almost trying to bite a fingernail through the cloth in crazed conniption. He looked back and forth. His mind was on the master, and a very real threat. This day must not be a bust. This is the day, it will be like no other. They will unleash!

...

Something horrible is about to transpire, and this very bad person is going to be the cause.

His name is...

1. Name the Monster.
>Write in.

...and his hands are...

2. The Hand of Evil.
>Full. (Powerless)
>Traditional five fingers. (Mixed)
>All left fingers. (To kill with Spiritua)
>Bare bones. (To kill with Materia)

...He is the leader of a significant following, a large coven of the Damned. They are the servants of the Khanate, the horde of all who follow the Dark One and his foul ways. They are butchers and fiends, amongst whom the primary is....

3. The Damned.
>The Red Horde. We who are confederation of every direction and hemisphere of the Khanate. (Balance between all)
>The Cult of KILLALL. We who invent mechanical horror and innovate in the field of killing for Vyros Votash, Chief Torturer. (Tools of Destruction)
>The Cult of Death. We who summon the dark arts to flay the innocent, and wield weapons for Usultu, the Great Murderer. (Black Magic & Demons)
>The Risers. We who walk back across the river of Death, once crossed, with the power of Ganiel, the First Necromancer. (Unending Army)
>The Inebriated. We who drink our fill of delight and destroy the mind, a useless generator of strife for Tenbhur, our marauder. (Chemical Warfare)
>The Sodomites. We who feel no pain, only pleasure, and strive to show the world new meanings by force for The Groper. (Psychological Warfare)
>The Beastmasters. We who enslave the soldiers Morgrim kindly donated to our cause, and spread the Blight to corrupt. (Beastkin Plague)
>The Duskscourge. We who follow the Undead God Ela-Re to the path of ascension by cultivating Demons. (Kegare Bombs)

>>5994882
His name is Barnabus.

His Hand of Evil is the traditional five-fingers.

He's a leader of the Red Horde, chosen for no other reason than that he said so and nobody contested him for it.

>>5994882
>Name: Barnabus
>Hand of Evil: Bare Bones
>Damned: Cult of KILLALL
We're gonna be going for max murder

>>5994882
NAME:
>Bahadir "Rabid Dog" Sinnoks
HAND:
>Bare bones.
DAMNED:
>Cult of KILLALL.

BORN FOR RAGE
BORN FOR BLOOD
STRENGTH IS OUR FAMILY
DEHUMANIZE ONESELF AND FACE TO BLOODSHED

>>5994882
>Name: Richard Ray Peat

>Traditional five fingers. (Mixed)

>The Inebriated. We who drink our fill of delight and destroy the mind, a useless generator of strife for Tenbhur, our marauder. (Chemical Warfare)

>>5994882
Forget >>5994888, I'm going to weigh in to support the Inebriated >>5994913. I still think Barnabus is a funny name but I'm indifferent on it.

>>5994888
Seconding

Apologies, I read the votes wrong, so tie breaker doesn't count. The winner is >>5994913, so votes closed now.

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The Inebriates. They are followers of the Demigod named Tenbhur. He is hulking faded flesh and muscle, strength given form, rigamarole condensed to bloat. The Khagan that sips constantly on gunk. The attraction to woozy drink, the succor of tasting it with flinching lips, withdrawing in surprise. But soon coming to be accustomed to the taste, to the fire. And all the while, the only thing that has to suffer, is one's mind. For what is a mind really? But the source of pain and woes, naught spoken from that which is drowned.

His fingers flex, holding tightly the bident bestowed as the symbol of his office. An impaling implement for which the enemies, the many, are meant to be mounted upon in full view of that Devil, with five fingers to bring down the unearthly strength given and the wickedness built within, a torrent of the apparitional.

Born the son of a drinker, Richard Ray Peat. He is this Monster. How ironic. The perfect twist fate lay out for the Devil's hand to clench. What luck. He is Monster. He is Man. He is.

"Chosen one!"

He stumbles in a jumpy fit, looking down the aisle to the voice that cried that, the smaller figure of the midget Death Cultist joined to the troop. As the aisle grinds to a halt, the subtle jumping softens. Light, through the windows.

"We're here!"

Guns loaded. The tracks hissed.

Several cabins of the metro they hijacked, full of red warriors, horned helmeted men. They turned to the doors. Outside stood many civilians. Rows of them. That's just how busy the average dust hole in the traps was. Humans had to shuffle out and in constantly, fighting in near violence just to find a place or seat on these locomotives. Never mind that the aisles within were chock full. That's just how disgusting they are. Packs roving, colliding. Well, they didn't know what was inside. They didn't know that 'they' were here.

Nobody was giving them that divine clarity. The automated voice came over and said, "You have arrived at your destination. Please exit and proceed in an orderly manner", just as the doors swung open.

Men. Women. Children. The occasional Chemical Immortal on watch. Their reactions aren't that quick. Rather, they stand and stare in confusion at the red bodies stepping out now.

Gunned down to the last.

"KILL THEM AAAALLLLL!"

Open fire, they sang! Boom! Boom! Pow! Was this the sound of slaughter filling the ears of the Chosen One? Richard thought, this was good. Today was going to be a special day. Today, the flowing river of the weak would be crashing into the filter. Only the strong were passing through. Only the strong were fit to march ahead.

"Out! Out! Out! Kill em' all! Kill em' all! Kill em' all!"

Sanguine warriors brushed past, making their way outside. The screams were almost enough to match the sound of gunfire, until they weren't. That midget in the capirot came over and grabbed his chosen by the pants.

"Oh wonderful! Wonderful! Chosen One! The time is now!" He screams; "We go to KILL! Come! Quick!"

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The city of Kloa was a small, poor settlement in the Siran region's large igneous region. Like multiple urban developments and neighborhoods nestled in the tall traps, it too was secluded in the volcanic walls. The place was, honestly, packed. Humans breed out of control like rats here. They worship the holy heifer, Surasira. An idle goddess, whose servants are cooks and dancers, whom champions pacifist ideals. She's not coming to their aid. They are under the thumb of the Metropolitan Standard Forces, Chemical Immortals organized by the Great World Kingdom to police its lands.

And the Wei are stretched thin in this region, near constantly assigning many officers on patrol to the volcanic traps in search of signs of corruption. The region is a hotbed for sympathies they disdain to grow. It's a place where anyone can hide, if they apply a modicum of carefulness. It's full of the Damned. It's why the Devil chose Kloa today. It was the perfect target, one he'd been saving just for this chance. Waiting a long time for the right circumstances.

First, the drunkard struck in Siegesia, wreaking havoc to the Great Mother's city. Then, it is felt across the world. The universe. A god wave. The impact of such energies could have only meant one thing - That an extraordinary member of a decaying pantheon had been beaten.

This was how he knew it was time to strike.

It was planned for a while. The Chief Torturer laid out a decisive strategy. First, they'd fill the metro lines with their Warriors. Enter the streets, the men on foot would kill from there. It would send the Wei into disarray. The key was to seize the streets and have this urban "shitter" in utter chaos as fast as possible. Then, they could begin shuffling in more of their followers, call them in from among the traps. The Chosen One was brought before their infernal council.

"I... wanh the fat ones." He says to them.

So they put him in charge of the Inebriates. Rotgut will fill the streets, the air, everything. They'll drop like flies.

The killing has began. The Cultists of Death, the Warriors of the Khanate and the Imps are here.

>The Chosen One takes the field. He orders them to gather the fresh impurity that came with every body they dropped in the first shots. Their bodies an be compiled. They can help us open esoteric gates to inflamed apertures by creating the Daemasses to ferry our rot right into their fold.
>The Chosen One's sickly left thumb and rotted pinky searches for his radio in pocket. He lifts it up to a gummy mouth and speaks through the cloth capirote, "C-Commensh". Outside, these engines roared to life. Smashing right through what little traffic goes on intercontinental highways. The crashes will be worthy sacrifices to scatter these great tanks of rot on the outside. We'll melt a moat. None will escape. But none will come back in.

>>5995633
>The Chosen One takes the field. He orders them to gather the fresh impurity that came with every body they dropped in the first shots. Their bodies an be compiled. They can help us open esoteric gates to inflamed apertures by creating the Daemasses to ferry our rot right into their fold.
As a heusite, time to be a bit of a casterfag

>>5995633
>>The Chosen One takes the field. He orders them to gather the fresh impurity that came with every body they dropped in the first shots. Their bodies an be compiled. They can help us open esoteric gates to inflamed apertures by creating the Daemasses to ferry our rot right into their fold.
We will lead from the front like the proper retard we are

>>5995633
>The Chosen One takes the field. He orders them to gather the fresh impurity that came with every body they dropped in the first shots. Their bodies an be compiled. They can help us open esoteric gates to inflamed apertures by creating the Daemasses to ferry our rot right into their fold.
Isolating ourselves too early could be dangerous, and I'm confident our rotgut can make any large concentrations of Wei regret it.

>>5995633
>>The Chosen One's sickly left thumb and rotted pinky searches for his radio in pocket. He lifts it up to a gummy mouth and speaks through the cloth capirote, "C-Commensh". Outside, these engines roared to life. Smashing right through what little traffic goes on intercontinental highways. The crashes will be worthy sacrifices to scatter these great tanks of rot on the outside. We'll melt a moat. None will escape. But none will come back in.

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"I-hiii.. I he-aaa...hear music."

"As do I." Concurred the midget.

Their bodies are still warm. It's perfect.

"Deform them."

"As you wish, Chosen One! Oh ho ho! Jolly idea! Jolly idea! COME ON YOU LOT! LABOR!"

The Chosen wills it.

Their bodies shall be broken, the limbs snapped. Throw them into a pile and incinerate the flesh into ashes with dark fire. These bonfires will burn on the bodies, using their Death as fuel. Death creates Kegare and spreads it. Kegare culminates. We burn a firepit of bodies as the bricks, we create Demons from the mass. The Daemass, is what it is called. Those who died can serve us and the Khanate as well, even if they don't want to. Using what has been taught to us, we can create pillars with these flames and nascent Demons.

Flames are gates, through which the Rot shall pass freely.

FIRST HOUR OF CARNAGE.

..

Kloa was cut off. There was only two ways in through the traps. The left, and the right. This city was populated by over five million people. The primary means of transportation was the metro lines, running in and out of the Siran region, to other parts of Shengesia. And now, they were all taken over, used as the trojan for the reckoning. The roads were little traveled by automobile, but now they'd be shut down. Each semi, placed strategically in just the right place, blowing up the tankers full of rot precisely. Not even cars would protect them from it. The roads would be stopped up, but not enough to prevent entry completely.

No, after all, once they finished here with most of them, they could expect the response. The new victims.

But it had to be done before then. Daddy told his Chosen that. So, there was no time for dallying. No time to allow the Wei to mount their significant response. True, there was perhaps a few of their flying dropships of the line around. The Chosen couldn't let there be a lot, could he? No... because then, that would be interference.

And nothing can interfere with the construction effort.

If all things went right today, this region would be black.

...

"Fff...hu-h-hhr... W... Why them?"

"It just gets me to wondering is all, my... My Chosen!" The dwarfish Cultist began; "Why the Inebriates? The fat oafs... lumbering shit for brains. They'll melt all the good bodies with their gruel, their concentrated shits and farts for drink. They'll melt it all to soup. So how then? How we will construct a Necrotower, with no suitable corpses? Why the Inebriated?"

"Be...Because... h... have you ever-ev how... have you ever felt the bottle smash agains-t your skull? H-Have you ever?"

"Well... no..."

"Well... I w-want... I want you... to FEEL IT! I want YOU ALL TO FEEL IT."

"A... Ahh... I see."

"H-haa-h-and if they try melting too many... j-just... shoot them. Kill them too. Myhh. And add them."

"Oi... That really a g-good idea now? Just go killin' each other all willy nilly? Aren't we supposed to be... you know! In this together?"

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"If you can't... stop som... then... you deserve it."

"Shites that..."

...

FIRST HOUR AND A HALF OF CARNAGE.

Daemasses shine with the grisly fire of doom. Demons shall do as they are told, in their newborn states. These flames will connect to one another, a series of passages through the equinoxes of the Scourge Fronts and the Great Deep's lower recesses. The Damned are mortals, all around the world, discarding all human reason. They shuffle through the passages to where the reckoning of the world starts.

Behold, these numerous, sickly forms of bloat. They either dress themselves in tatters or don't dress at all. A stink trails them, comes from them. Cases holding many bottles on shoulders, tanks on wheels being dragged behind.

"Party's starting boys! WUHAHAHAHA!" Shouted the Marauder among them, strumming an electric guitar.

'Play that music, play it loud! Let us hear through the clouuuuud!'

Smashing the bottles they cast in every window. Spraying it like pesticides on everyone they saw. Large bodies came in a sprint they'd normally be incapable of towards the first unsuspecting crowd they saw.

Noxious fumes were in updraft, upsurging.

The Inebriates were here, flooding the streets. People pray for the gods to be with them, but for the Inebriates, rotgut was with them. Rotgut arose from whatever they drank. It was so easy to make. What better place to defile with Rotgut than the home of those who worshiped Milk and Torpor?

'Awwww, whassa' matter? Don't you dancing freaks like poisonin' yourselves? HAHAHAHA!'

Smell it, your nostrils melt. Bask in the cloud, your skin burns and hair sheds. Clothes sticks to your body. Blood begins inflating in your veins. There's nothing people who just wanted to live their every day lives can do against Rotgut. They simply aren't equipped. All they can do is run and hope they make it.

But with how packed Kloa was, they didn't stand much of a chance.

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SECOND HOUR OF CARNAGE.

The city is on high alert. Some two thousand Khanate Warriors entered the heart of the settlement via all the available metro lines, hijacked mid transport through the use of Vengeful Spirits. The passengers found were made into an appetizer in preparation for the main course. Now the Daemasses are up, being erected across the streets to ferry in more of the Damned. The Rotgut is spreading.

The Wei, so encumbered with dealing with such a large settlement on so little forces, finally initiates a state of emergency and declares martial law. The city has a handful of Commissars to report to the Interior Ministry on the situation.

The people are flocking to the Siran Temple in the city, seeking protection and safety. All around the city, people lock their doors and begin boarding up to outlast the encroaching night.

"Chosen One!" Shouts that midget again. It's always the midget.

"The Imperials have Dropships approaching the eastern district! That's where our Daemasses porting in the creatures are! Our creatures are crucial to our effort here! Their riflemen are exchanging fire with our Warriors... so it seems that the Rotgut does not melt the Chemically Immortal so well as it melts the normal."

"What elsh?"

"The Imperials had their lines to the Capital jammed, I sent a Revenant up there to mess things up good, but it looks like they're jumping between systems to get the message through by brute force. They hold up at the guard headquarters in the southern district... they control the whole city from there.... Hehehehe, if we capture that...."

>The Chosen One thought this through for a moment. If the Wei went dark, the Trinity would suspect the worst. A settlement on their mainland, their Imperial world, falling, would be grounds for purification. The fleet will be dispatched, the Samurai will come down to destroy all they see. The Wei's local stronghold can stand for now. A prolonged siege will only bring us more blood.
>Yes, it must go dark, the Chosen One thought. 'We'll cut off their means of controlling the chaos. We'll make their jobs harder, and then slick our bodies in blood. It will become less of a storm, more of a hunting game, with the people here as the prey. We will find them in every last corner and room. We will have enough even to make MORE than one Necrotower. We will test the Kingdom whole!'
>Annoying. So annoying, thought the Chosen One. This midget, this worthless dwarf. He thinks he is worthy to be in the Chosen's presence? He thinks he is some kind of... lackey? Some right hand? That by reporting he's suddenly in graces? He dares question the Chosen?! No. He is weak... He's not worthy, the Chosen thinks.
>The Chosen would consider his options carefully. He'd been watching the force go and do as they please so far but... the bident has gone unused. This, this cannot stand. Daddy is watching! After all! He must want to see something... The Chosen knows what to do. The Siran Temple... we go there.
>The bodies are being laid out. But they must be collected later. It matters not if some are in a somewhat melty state from the billowing Rotgut. They have to be melted in order the prepare the frame of the great fleshy machine that is the Necrotower. The worms, they'll need a nice open area to slip into their armor at. The Chosen elects to take the residential district. It is... a place with a low profile. There is no danger of aerial incursion or worry of orbital bombardment there to distract the construction. They will not expect it.
>"U-Unleash Kilmegu-rr-t."

>>5995796
>>The bodies are being laid out. But they must be collected later. It matters not if some are in a somewhat melty state from the billowing Rotgut. They have to be melted in order the prepare the frame of the great fleshy machine that is the Necrotower. The worms, they'll need a nice open area to slip into their armor at. The Chosen elects to take the residential district. It is... a place with a low profile. There is no danger of aerial incursion or worry of orbital bombardment there to distract the construction. They will not expect it.

>>5995796
>The bodies are being laid out. But they must be collected later. It matters not if some are in a somewhat melty state from the billowing Rotgut. They have to be melted in order the prepare the frame of the great fleshy machine that is the Necrotower. The worms, they'll need a nice open area to slip into their armor at. The Chosen elects to take the residential district. It is... a place with a low profile. There is no danger of aerial incursion or worry of orbital bombardment there to distract the construction. They will not expect it.

>>5995796
>The Chosen would consider his options carefully. He'd been watching the force go and do as they please so far but... the bident has gone unused. This, this cannot stand. Daddy is watching! After all! He must want to see something... The Chosen knows what to do. The Siran Temple... we go there.
We must eradicate the temple before their piety can bring the Emperor's LAW down on our heads.

>>5995796
>>The Chosen would consider his options carefully. He'd been watching the force go and do as they please so far but... the bident has gone unused. This, this cannot stand. Daddy is watching! After all! He must want to see something... The Chosen knows what to do. The Siran Temple... we go there.

>>5995821
>+1

>>5995796
>The Chosen would consider his options carefully. He'd been watching the force go and do as they please so far but... the bident has gone unused. This, this cannot stand. Daddy is watching! After all! He must want to see something... The Chosen knows what to do. The Siran Temple... we go there.

>>5995979
I’m tired

>>5995821
>+1

Vote locked.

"No. N... No."

"My Chosen?"

"We take the shh... cshity by storm. Stalemate, p-preferable."

"As you wish, my Chosen. We will just have to bear with this fighting for a while more. Where then do we go?"

"To wh-where they live. I... I want they... their homes. Think they're s-safe? Ssss... Nh... Th-Think again! I want you to... drag them out by the hair. A-And beuh... beat them in the streets. That's where we'll do it. Gather everything."

The midget couldn't agree more, as he rubs his disfigured hands.

"We'll have your prize. We'll have it laid out. He is with us."

"Go!" He said, giving the little runt a push with a prodding toe.

And so he scampers on to carry out these malevolent demands.

...

ELEVENTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.
TWELVE THOUSAND PEOPLE HAVE BEEN KILLED.
CASUALTIES ARE SUSTAINED ON BOTH SIDES.

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...

AND YOU WILL NOT STOP. NOT UNTIL THIS PLACE IN ITS ENTIRETY HAS BEEN KILLED. I WANT NOTHING LESS FROM YOU THAN NOTHING LEFT. BUT YOU MUST MAKE HASTE. MY PLAN IS HINGED UPON IT... STARS WILL FALL. THE NEWCOMER WILL LASH OUT. I NEED EVERYTHING I CAN TO SEND THIS WORLD INTO DISARRAY, AS WE ENTER THE LAST DAYS OF THE NEW ETERNITY.

...AREN'T YOU READY FOR THE FUTURE?

"Y-Yes... daddy... mm.... mrn..."

...

TWELFTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.

...

Among the rabble, there were thoughts and dying gasps. Why Kloa? Why the slums? There was other places, so much nicer, if iconoclasm was the grand goal here. The hole at the center of the region led right into the Milky sea. There were structures there well over a thousand years old, so pretty and bright. Why not focus this effort of pillage and needless destruction on those pillars? The red sandstone could not be painted any redder by blood, but by wetting them, there was enough to flow down and pollute the Land of Milk below.

But that was the thing. Slums were perfect. The Kloan slums were a melting pot of everything that was needed for this all to go right. What have we here, but the carelessness of a divine government, in a region historical for its unaligned providence?

Some were undernourished. Roads hadn't been kept up. Not enough money gets sunk into those who are semi-heretical. There's only so much quality good food can bring to life, but it's not enough to distract overall. Stress builds when one fears the floor below going right out under their feet. Precipitation leaks in the places not properly patched up, weakening architectural foundations.

The western district held where most of Kloa's citizens disparaged by their own sovereignty lived. Homes were mostly duplexes and apartment buildings with forty rooms each. Families lived inside, and one room or house was enough for ten members. But there were homeless as well, who turn to the path of the ascetic to mitigate the problems of their poorness.

Now, they were laying out on the roads, seeing there were hardly any use for them by a lack of vehicles. So it was a good deal of space to set things like their bodies.

When the Chosen One ordered that area to be encircled, the Warrior caste did so with haste. Fishing people out of their homes, making an example of anyone who resists. They had some fun all the while with who they found. The Inebriates were working on the underground. They had to turn that into the perfect trap, filling it with their intoxicating fogs to drive out hiders and discourage them as an option. It was little worry for anyone that would try to escape the city on foot. Where were they going to flee? The expanse of the dusty volcanic traps? To die of thirst or of being famished? Or by seeking help, from one of many isolated neighborhoods and homes across the traps, only to find more of the Damned and their covens.

The Wei were held up in the southern district of the city, ushering who they could behind their barriers and closing off streets. They were phoning home to the Fortress of Karma, to the Capital under Heaven and Easterlind City, asking for backup, calling on increased numbers of the Shen Ce, the divine strategical forces.

Their dropships were dispatched to make supply runs and gather reinforcements. The ones that remained held their own, nobody on foot was a match for a flying hulk that fired brilliant light. But the creatures were doubling. Soon the Night Gaunts would amass to take them down.

Faith is weak. The illusion of Surasira's afterlife is soon broken by the sight of many a soul still lingering past their end. The Death Knell rang.

"Chosen One!"

Here comes the midget.

"I bring reports."

"Shbeak."

He bows his head; "The Necromancers have arrived. They've come to breed the Killer Worms to fill the crevices between the armor. It will take them some time."

"How... long...?"

"They say they need a day or two. We will have to buy them that time.... But, there is another matter."

"Say."

"A holy woman is preaching."

"W-Who?"

"Over the city speakers."

Her name was Eyara Lahhal. She was the head priestess of the blessed cooks, taken from the Siran Temple by the Wei. She had little choice when demanded she begin preaching to the people, being a person whom they listen to. The Siran dogma was utterly discarded. After all, faith was breaking. After all, the cow relied upon the Lokas of Heaven's authority to begin with... and this must be clarified.

She preaches for the Xanthous Emperor now. His name is Huangdi. He is the holiest, and he is the almighty. His foe is the Devil these monsters are following. That Devil has many names. His foremost is HEUS, "He Who Is us". He is the Dark One that rules he Afterseas, the netherworld. He is the one that has launched a jihad against all things good in the world.

The Emperor opposes him.

While it may be the Siran region, it is in the Imperial World of Shengesia. This city is His. And He strikes with vengeance. Believe, and you will be saved by a mighty power. His servants are divine because He allows it. Divine servants will destroy the dark.

The Final War is very real...

The midget fidgets with his lack of fingers; "Their forces are trying to make a breakthrough from out of the southern slices. They're pushing towards and occupying this factory for vehicles."

"Hmhm! HMHM! MHM! HM HM! MHMHMHYAHAHA! HAHAHAAHA! HYEAHA! H-HEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! F-FACTORY?! FOR VEHICLES! WHERE THERE'S HARDLY NONE?!"

"What's so funny about that?"

"HAAAAA! They m-make vehicurs... for the Capital. T-They don't get them, don't drive them them-themselves! S-So obvious.... so... burns me up INSIDE!"

"Hm. Yes, the irony is not lost on me."

>So, the course was clear. They had to preach back. Already, these people were pathetic. But who can we say is at fault for that? They are ruled by their goddess, and their goddess does not rule them? What repressions must they feel? What repressions could be extracted? He called for Ambula Khan, the Darkhan that knew the Address of HEUS. (ANARCHY FOR ALL)
>This holy woman, this was not something the Chosen could allow to stand for much longer. If she gets in their heads, they'll all be filled with nonsense. They'll suddenly gain newfound will in the face of Terror. She insolent. For this, she will pay dearly. (PROJECTING MY PROBLEMS)
>The Wei was testing the waters. Cocky motherfuckers, all of them. Pushing against real soldiers? Thinking they had any chance. They will be pushed back, the Chosen will lead. Time must be gained for victory. (MIGHT MAKES RIGHT)
>The Chosen chose to idle around here. Take hostages. The Imperials will be petrified when they realize there's still many lives stuck behind enemy lives. Each one is a soul they risk losing. They needed someone willing to cooperate, if only to tie up the rabble. Markishire Opes is chosen from the survivors. He is a psychiatrist, he will be the useful puppet and liaison. (SUBVERSION OF EXPECTATIONS)
>The Chosen One realizes what would be helpful here. A rival. The nemesis, for the narrative he was starring in. The one who was to be the hero of Kloa's sacking. The one that was meant to be cheered for. (THE SPECTACLE)

>>5996280
>This holy woman, this was not something the Chosen could allow to stand for much longer. If she gets in their heads, they'll all be filled with nonsense. They'll suddenly gain newfound will in the face of Terror. She insolent. For this, she will pay dearly. (PROJECTING MY PROBLEMS)
We can't allow the Trinity's dogma to take root.

>>5996280
>This holy woman, this was not something the Chosen could allow to stand for much longer. If she gets in their heads, they'll all be filled with nonsense. They'll suddenly gain newfound will in the face of Terror. She insolent. For this, she will pay dearly. (PROJECTING MY PROBLEMS)

>>5996280
>>This holy woman, this was not something the Chosen could allow to stand for much longer. If she gets in their heads, they'll all be filled with nonsense. They'll suddenly gain newfound will in the face of Terror. She insolent. For this, she will pay dearly. (PROJECTING MY PROBLEMS)

And like all who were insolent, a holy woman or not, it would not be different for the Damned.

For while their flesh architects and Necromancer expertise gathered to begin the ritual of the breeding, their Warriors occupying the city defenders, the ghosts and the crooked would go swift. The Chosen One knew he brought those Shanlin for a reason. Nothing but professionals, their outfit concerned with anything unlawful. To be honest, they were likely among the more sensible of the horde. The Dark One's coffers are ever expanding with all he conducts, so it is easy to pay the Shanlin the one thing they do want in life, more money. It was almost sad to consider what they'd soon become. Exposure is a killer of character, and when money can justify taking part in any act by merely being high enough, these 'professionals' will soon discard their standards, their dignity.

...

FIFTEENTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.

..

Out into the encroaching night. That was the best time to strike, the refugee center hadn't been put together just yet. Slipping in was easy. Leaving was a different story, but that's why they sent ghosts, making their devices to flicker and vision blur. It was a simple matter, of shooting down the first person to spot them, barging into the right tent and grabbing the women. All of them, not just the holy woman. A holy woman of Surasira would be accompanied by others, and women are a resource. Though, perhaps more to the Damned, who like their resource in pristine shape, and unlike the Wei, who fire indiscriminately at human meat shields, honing only on taking down the enemy, thus incurring the loss of some resource, but not all.

Eyara Lahhal was his.

Now, she would pay.

And pay she did.

Dearly. With everything, once affixed to her manacles. She thought she was doing something altruistic, didn't she? Her face is given a slap by three-fingers every time she answers wrong or rebukes, and then the burning mark is sensually caressed all the same. The Chosen One's technique was learned by experience after all.

'W-Why do this?!'

"I... I'm just s-shh-showing you your place."

He sets her free with a harsh tug. No amount of tears were deterring him, but emboldening him.

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"Y-You gonna learn... J-just like me, g-gih-girl. Just like I did...."

'No god should let this happen.'

"Do you... do y-you feel the presence of any god, right n-now?"

"Or do you feel m... me?"

Daddy taught his Chosen well.

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...

SIXTEENTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.

...


Her body is broken, but her spirit is not. Not yet. She resists. It's foolish, but she does.

Why, wonders the Chosen.

"W-Why not givenin?"

'Because,' she started; 'you did.'

And he was exactly the result.

And it infuriated the Chosen One to no end. Because he did, she can't. And this was no good. No good for him. He'll have to shut her mouth for that. If only he still had his tongue, he thought.

...

Resistance. Oh how he'd come to hate it in twenty years.

"Chosen One!" Came the midget, lumbering near; "Word from your Shanlin. The bloody fools failed to share it in last night's outing, too busy slamming pigs to inform us well that the Wei have MAGES in their fold, and confound that, for they foil our spirits in the field. Belkinsir magic, that. And we all know what happens to be vulnerable to that." he added, lifting a pinky towards the Necromancers at work.

'But that is not all, Chosen. Tanks. Tanks are on the way.'

"Tanksh?!"

'Relics they. Seems they'll drag any mothballed junk out the gutter long as it still shoots good.'

>Then the Chosen would infuse spare skin with steel. Make of the abundance of equipment, horror. (ROT AND RUST)
>A breakthrough is imminent in the factory, which they're now dubbing the "Garbage Heap". A blood sacrifice is needed. Midget will be the first. (ARCHFIENDS)
>The Trinity abandoned tanks and treads long ago. How are they getting up such relics to run? It must be the people. The Wei are forcing them to work, conscripting them. Well, perhaps they need to be praying after all. The holy woman will be shown, and then drawn and quartered. (SHOCK AND AWE)
>Time for an exchange. They would agree to send the holy woman and the women back, so long as the Wei does no cross into the streets with those vehicles, and near the residential area. They'll have no choice but to agree. (FAKE DIPLOMACY)
>UNLEASH. KILMEGURT. (AQUAMARINE OUT)
>He called for Ambula Khan, the Darkhan that knew the Address of HEUS. The peasants would be encouraged to rise up against their oppressors, and armed with rockets. (ANARCHY FOR ALL)
>Assault the column, that was the plan. Drive them back! Show them they don't have a chance. (MIGHT MAKES RIGHT)
>The Chosen One realizes what would be helpful here. A rival. The nemesis, for the narrative he was starring in. The one who was to be the hero of Kloa's sacking. The one that was meant to be cheered for. (THE SPECTACLE)
>The Chosen begged daddy for help. (TRUE COLORS)
>It was time to break the stalemate and sow the seed of destruction. With Ogres. (JUST ADD WATER)
>The Wei will kill their own people just as easily, if they have to. This called for a Vengeful Spirit. (CAPITAL PUNISHMENT)

>>5996831
>>The Trinity abandoned tanks and treads long ago. How are they getting up such relics to run? It must be the people. The Wei are forcing them to work, conscripting them. Well, perhaps they need to be praying after all. The holy woman will be shown, and then drawn and quartered. (SHOCK AND AWE)

>>5996831
>A breakthrough is imminent in the factory, which they're now dubbing the "Garbage Heap". A blood sacrifice is needed. Midget will be the first. (ARCHFIENDS)

>>5996831
>The Trinity abandoned tanks and treads long ago. How are they getting up such relics to run? It must be the people. The Wei are forcing them to work, conscripting them. Well, perhaps they need to be praying after all. The holy woman will be shown, and then drawn and quartered. (SHOCK AND AWE)

>>5996831
>>The Chosen One realizes what would be helpful here. A rival. The nemesis, for the narrative he was starring in. The one who was to be the hero of Kloa's sacking. The one that was meant to be cheered for. (THE SPECTACLE)

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It was the people. It had to be the people. The Wei would be merciless in their endeavor to take back Kloa. They'd set the people to work, what with all the tools and resources they had on their side for manufacturing and restoring vehicles. They were likely under the impression that if they helped the Wei to contain the presence of the Damned in their city and confine them from the streets, they'd be able to rescue their loved ones and the holy woman whom they held in high regard.

The Chosen trembled.

"NO!" he cursed. It would not happen. They had to break. They couldn't be allowed to overturn or tip this precious stalemate held in the city, or else by the time reinforcements arrived, the Damned would be in danger. He makes a brash decision, and impales the holy woman on the bident, before impaling her again. She wouldn't break, then she would suffer, her final hour would be one that was excruciating, and finally she did scream, utterly hopeless. One success. But no more.

The body was mounted on a pole and taken out during the night set where the Wei could find it. When they found the grisly mess left behind, it hit the people like a wave.

But they did not fall even lower. This time, they stood up somewhat. They had guns now, the Wei began arming the people with spares and unused weapons.

'This is our city!' Cries the followers of Surasira, the Wei all too eager to send them to die in their stead. And they would without mercy, for now by fighting alongside their authority and behaving, they'd earned second chances in the Lokas. This death would not be their end, and so many spirits had just been denied to the Damned who reap. Denied to the Afterseas. It was a bungle to kill the holy woman. It only galvanized the peasants.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xe3Z9GLhdoI

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A cold sweat trickled down the Chosen's neck, absorbing into the cloth of his capirote. With a rising pulse, he breathed in a panic. The name he wished to discard was whispered into his ears by somebody who wasn't there.

'Are you even listenin' to me?!' Snapped the midget.

'I said, they've got fresh reinforcements from Easterlind City!' He rehashed; 'Shen Ce's now arrived, and they're giving our Warriors a helluva time down there in the Garbage Heap! Haven't been able to gain any ground, in fact we've lost some!'

The midget paced back and forth, throwing his arms up and down. It was like he thought he was the leader here.

'And to top it all off, shits lot of good those Inebriates did us. The fat barstords are all congregating underground, not helping!'

The underground, it has become a catacombs, filled with Rotgut. The fumes trickle up through vents and the sewers, leaking into the streets above. But compared to the advent, it was a breeze. One could not tell the Inebriates what to do, they were without a master. Not even Tenbhur could order the Inebriated around, it always came down to a fight. Now, those cultists the Chosen had brought were nicely settled, occupying the underbelly of Kloa. Useless to the cause.

Startled. The Chosen was startled. If anymore Shen Ce reinforcements were to arrive, and not far behind them, the Samurai, greatest of all concerns, then this will have all been for naught but a guileless bloodbath. It was clear the stalemate was hardly worth keeping up now, for by applying no pressure, the enemy was quick to amplify! It must be tipped now, but in the Chosen's favor.

For the Necromancers so report that now the Killer Worms had bred. They were swarming, nearly out of control. The time was nigh to begin building.

'Why the hell are we sitting out here like ducks, Chosen?'

The midget grit his teeth.

'Why haven't we simply tried to capture even more of this shitty city's rats? At this rate, we'll all be done for.'

The midget doubted the Chosen now. He, a lowly worm, knowing he had no place or right to this existence, seeking to get by through being the Devil's advocate, annoyingly. The midget was nothing but a demagogic stooge, doubting the Chosen. Most likely, he thought in his head 'why him, and not me who was chosen?'

Tanks, and men. Chemically Immortal Shen Wu and Shen Ce, buffeting the Warriors. They were good soldiers, but far from invincible. And now, their dropships were back, and unloading supplies...

>Then the Chosen would infuse spare skin with steel. Make of the abundance of equipment, horror. (ROT AND RUST)
>A breakthrough is imminent in the factory, which they're now dubbing the "Garbage Heap". A blood sacrifice is needed. Midget will be the first. (ARCHFIENDS)
>UNLEASH. KILMEGURT. NOW!!! (AQUAMARINE OUT)
>He called for Ambula Khan, the Darkhan that knew the Address of HEUS. The peasants would be encouraged to rise up against their oppressors, and armed with rockets. (ANARCHY FOR ALL)
>It was time to activate the sleepers. (UNGOVERNABLE AGENTS)
>It was time to break the stalemate and sow the seed of destruction. With Ogres. (JUST ADD WATER)
>The Wei will kill their own people just as easily, if they have to. This called for a Vengeful Spirit. (CAPITAL PUNISHMENT)
>So he called out to the resting drones, yet to be properly unleashed. The Night Gaunts, to fly forth from the Daemasses. (FLY MY PRETTIES)
>Therefor, he ordered his men to build and begin worshiping a certain totem in the residential area. (ANGER UNCHAINED)
>Therefor, he ordered the Imps to begin cultivating the Super Daemass, in order to unleash the riders of the night. Machines could not stem the tide of unstoppable ghosts. (WILD HUNT)

>>5997593
>>It was time to activate the sleepers. (UNGOVERNABLE AGENTS)

>>5997593
>A breakthrough is imminent in the factory, which they're now dubbing the "Garbage Heap". A blood sacrifice is needed. Midget will be the first. (ARCHFIENDS)

>>5997593
>A breakthrough is imminent in the factory, which they're now dubbing the "Garbage Heap". A blood sacrifice is needed. Midget will be the first. (ARCHFIENDS)
We can waste no time.

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Wordlessly, the Chosen One bore the bident handed down. His moment of regarding its bronze form was but a distraction to the midget, who had overstepped himself for the last time.

'GH-UK!'

And then been pierced.

'...Grkk... w-why me...?'

"Be-Because, you are.... weak."

The Chosen did not believe they had the right to exist. It was his right to excise the followers he deemed unworthy, and the midget was one. He hadn't know why up to this point he tolerated such an existence. But it was fine. He was gone now, and all that remained was his fear. Yes, and fear was good, for what he had planned.

To incarnate fear, they needed flesh. The Necromancers would have to stall for a time on the wider project of assembling the armor now that the worms had bred and multiplied. A sum of it was needed for fears to gain skin, and so he put them to work on spawning these next horrors with the Daemasses. Flesh was everything, it was the resource of the Khanate. Flesh was malleable.

From this, the Unholy Things rose, and sauntered off.

...

TWENTY NINTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.

...

The people ran. Once so emboldened as to charge the lines, now they ran. The Unholy Things drove them off, wherever they were seen. The mere sight aroused such Terrors hiding inside men, they screamed and gave up. The tanks, a mighty sight indeed, quickly are abandoned by their drivers, as the Chemically Immortal were not trained to use the hulks of metal. They needed civilian drivers, and now they were deprived of them. The Garbage Heap is being overran now. Not even the Shen Ce can keep up with fighting through a crowd of their own fleeing civilians, not with the Warriors closing in.

'My Chosen.'

The head Necromancer of the team approached Richard. Unlike the foolish midget from before, now nothing but a blood sacrifice, this Necromancer held the Chosen in a higher, more venerating regards.

'The Warriors claim they have captured every tank fielded by the Kloans. Now, they are ours.'

The people of the city were all flocking back to their little fortress around the Wei headquarters in the city. Such a congestion of unordered rabble running, with their Shen Ce protectors right behind them, clogged in the back, made the situation stressful. The Wei had no choice but to turn some people away to go running elsewhere in the city, and take their chances. It is the problem a city of five million faces. But the numbers were falling steadily.

For Kloa must burn.

...

THIRTIETH HOUR OF CARNAGE.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY THOUSAND PEOPLE HAVE BEEN KILLED.
CASUALTIES ARE RISING.

...

'The Warriors are overtaking the Garbage Heap. The stalemate you sought with the Wei is breaking.'

"N... Now we can surround them?"

'Perhaps. But, there is now another problem, my Chosen.'

"That b-being?"

'Their Dropships, rather beyond our means to take down with mere foot soldiers and roving beasts... are burning the dead out in the field. Our Warriors have reported this, while running for cover and making mad dashes where they begin bathing the streets in light. As well, because many are dying of disease from the Rotgut in the southern district, we've felt flames roaring with our senses for Spiritua and Materia. They are roaring furnaces to burn their dead. They are depriving us of precious flesh resources.'

The Necromancer sighed.

'And beyond that, there is not a whole lot to eat, and continue this battle on. Not everyone of our Warriors has yet embraced cannibalism, unlike us Cultists. This city was already poor and destitute, with little food compared to the more gentrified center of the region, and it was quickly absorbed by everyone who could grab it during the outbreak. Our Warriors have consumed everything they found, now they and our hostages will certainly starve slowly. All because they refuse to eat meat.'

"Y-You mean human m... nnn... meat."

'Meat is meat, my Chosen. Everything that walks grows the same way. There is little sacredness to such a thing. Even still, our highest priority is ensuring that the flesh we have remains in ample amounts. It takes ten thousand bodies to create a single Necrotower, and we plan to raise many.'

>The Chosen had enough then. It was inevitable that they would face a great effort to cleanse the city from outside. The Samurai would come soon. The Wei had to be curbed for now. He ordered the Warriors to assault and destroy the southern district with all monsters.
>There was little use to maintain hostages anymore. Damned are they, but mortal still, and mortals cannot be denied their impulses, even the impulse to stay alive, contrary to HEUS' wish for men to die and become undead. The Chosen would have the hostages slaughtered and harvested. The Necromancers would serve them as a secret to the rest of the Damned.
>The Chosen had to keep the Damned in line with the Dark One's wish somehow. He would have a number of them killed and resurrected to become shining examples of the fruits of aligning with the Dark Lord. A wraith wave would soon march.
>The Chosen thinks now that the Inebriates have run their course, their usefulness was... spent. Bombs would be pass around, to detonate throughout the undercrofts of the city, blasting up to the surface and collapsing the streets. The Rotgut would be released to eat the air above, and kill again.

>>5998938
>The Chosen thinks now that the Inebriates have run their course, their usefulness was... spent. Bombs would be pass around, to detonate throughout the undercrofts of the city, blasting up to the surface and collapsing the streets. The Rotgut would be released to eat the air above, and kill again.

>>5998938
>>The Chosen thinks now that the Inebriates have run their course, their usefulness was... spent. Bombs would be pass around, to detonate throughout the undercrofts of the city, blasting up to the surface and collapsing the streets. The Rotgut would be released to eat the air above, and kill again.

>>5998938
>The Chosen thinks now that the Inebriates have run their course, their usefulness was... spent. Bombs would be pass around, to detonate throughout the undercrofts of the city, blasting up to the surface and collapsing the streets. The Rotgut would be released to eat the air above, and kill again.
Top Ten Afterseas Pranks

"The Inebriatehd..."

'What of them?'

"K-Kill them."

'My Chosen?'

"G... Give them bombs... l-let them blow themselves up..."

'Well, as you wish.' The Necromancer complied readily, not daring to question his Chosen's decision.

The Inebriated were considered widely by the Afterseas to be... useful and useless. The drunkards, minds eroded, were effective and efficient killers whose fuming substances would eradicate all it touched, but their worship of inebriation could not be compatible with a hierarchy. Not even driving others by the whip was possible with them.

The underground of Kloa had become a toxic waste from their congregation. Nothing but constant drinking of the Rotgut and parties, as well as fights breaking out senselessly among them. It's like they came simply because they wanted a new hole to drink in. Yet, they themselves wouldn't know why they even came, their minds were so dulled down.

The Warriors had a large supply of munitions with them, with the scrap worked, refurbished artillery they brought with them, as well as explosives for all occasions, passed about by the Imps, who could stand the deteriorating Rotgut in their unholy armors.

The explosions shook Kloa. They were timed in many places.

...

FORTY EIGHTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.
TWO MILLION HAVE BEEN KILLED.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CREbXZNdc0

...

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Of the Inebriated, only those who remained above ground or away from the sinkholes rapidly forming were spared.

Much of the Middle, the general area uniting every district of Kloa, was sunken. Collapsed, as the underground did, bringing streets and floors across the city down under. The metro station and tunnels were all under rubble, and the sewers and access ways were all caved in. Buildings toppled, blocking off many paths and streets. The Rotgut released like air from a bag or a pocket. Many stragglers were unfortunate enough to be caught in it.

Now, there was no way out of the city via the underground where the Damned came, and collecting bodies across the city became an arduous task, with so many being lost in the ensuing collapses. The only portions of the underground still left intact were those protected directly underneath the Wei's grounds, sealed off. Yet, they could never hope to distribute enough gas masks to the populace in order to save them from the oncoming clouds of Rot. There weren't enough to go around...

Rot. It ate everything. What erodes and eats the man from within can erode and eat everything without. The human was the pillar. Inebriation was the destruction of his faculty, and the death of his organs.

The Damned could now control the city, wherever in it they went about, capturing those lost among the streets. From where things had been left in one piece, they found new resources to fuel themselves on. Kloa was won.

The Wei had no choice but to retreat. Using the Dropships still at their disposal, they began to ferry people out day and night, pulling back all their forces to hold down their position. They could transport almost a thousand out every hour, but not to Easterlind City, or even other areas of the Siran Region. These people had witnessed the Final War too long, they were undesirables now. They qualified for judgment, to be tested in their faith in the Emperor and given their final rites by the Temple when it arrived, for this life. They would not see a proper city of the Trinity, relegated instead to a refugee encampment not far from Kloa, but far enough to be out of danger's way. One they were expected to set up themselves, of the three million left that the Wei had secured.

"T-They've escaped... they are escaping!"

The Chosen paced back and forth on the rooftop of the Middle's highest building.

"They... they're going... mmm. No.... Nn-mm. T-They'll Peace Butcher them. F-fff... nnn!"

Musing.

"And if they do that, I-I'll loseeethymEEMMM! F-FUCK IT! I'll fucking! Nnn! Mssstttt!" He sucked in air.

'What you clamoring about now?'

He didn't face the head Necromancer, looking over the roof to the cloudy street below.

"T-T-d-duh-The spirits! We need them! Master needs them! He w-wants them! I can't let them go! I have to do something about that... f-fucking camp... but the Samurai. They'll be here." He spat, slamming his three fingered fist onto the rail.

'Maybe you should get them Necromancers into high gear. Maybe take the Wei out already, that 'wei' they can't transport anymore resource. Dumbfuck.' He heard, practically feeling the spittle from those words hit his back.

"D-Didn't I already tell you d-that you were weak?"

'Of course.' The Midget smiled.
'You did bloody kill me because you're the big man. And the big man has to kill the little one so he can survive, right? But you aren't a big man yourself, just a clown in a capirote promoted by your dominatrix, innit'? What's to say none of them won't do the same once they sniff you out, Chosen? After all, if you're gonna believe might's right...'

The Chosen looked up from the street. He turned around to the rooftop and preparing to hit that man. But there was nobody there. He talked to no one.

Was it true, he wondered? Would someone seek to succeed him? Him, of all people? The only one who has the honor to be called the 'Chosen'. It was Richard Ray Peat who got that honor and him alone, not any of these nameless, horned minions! That was what he reckoned. But if he keeps going on talking about how those without strength must be culled, how worthless things need to be erased in the world...

'What's your answer?' Asked nobody.

>The Chosen saith... (Write in.)

>>5999732
>"I-I will make it s-so no on-onh can doubt my strength and leadership, b-but should any f-fuh try his luck he'll pay t-the price dearly."

"I-I will make it s-sho no on-onh can doubt my strength-gth! And leadership... b-but, should any f-fuh...fucker try his luck, he'll pay t-the price dearly. Fi-Find out!"

'Buhuhuhu.' Laughed nobody.

As they went to speak again, the Chosen grabbed his bident leaned against the rail. He twisted around and smashed a lamp hanging on the nearby wall.

"SH-SILENCE!"

'Awww, piss poor little baby thinks he can shut me up just because he asked for it?'

"I SAID SILENCE!" He screamed, louder, voice straining.

The Chosen demands silence, so why hasn't it come? He wonders this. He shook his head, it wasn't supposed to be. He turned around and ran, jumping off the rails, falling six stories. Something he could do only because he wasn't a normal mortal, not anymore. He could smash into the asphalt and dirt and concrete below, sending dust aloft and rise yet with only a groan.

He growled, impotently.

"Silence!" He said, rising with the bident.

The Middle was quiet yet, however, and he failed to notice.

"Silence! Silence! S-Silence! Sh... Shilence! SILENCE!"

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No, the Chosen thought. Never, not in a million years. Then why is he now, he wondered? That midget, he was always weak. He was always worthless. He died like a coward, in fear. How could he be so smug now? When it was him who was gored on the bident. The Chosen One wasn't gored yet, so he was stronger.

'I'm over here.'

He looks left.

A building untouched by the rubble, stranded in the Middle that had yet to be truly engulfed in struggle. There, he saw more weaklings, and they were guarding the midget. The midget, and all his midget friends.

What would he see? He has to ask himself this. What would his men see? What would daddy see when they looked at the midget? Weaklings? Underlings? Slaves?

"I will show you, little g-guy."

>... (WEAKLINGS)
>... (UNDERLINGS)
>... (SLAVES)

>>6000978
>... (UNDERLINGS)

>>6000978
>... (WEAKLINGS)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZgdLcPQZNU
I DON'T FEEL PAIN
I NEVER ESCAPE

>>6000978
>... (WEAKLINGS)
We must. HEUS demands nothing less.

>>6000978
>>... (WEAKLINGS)

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The midget was weak. The Chosen was strong. So the strong had to eat the weak, in order to survive, because the weak could not eat the strong. If you were without strength, you didn't belong in this world as the Chosen, who gummed now at his plentiful reaping, twenty heads counted down below, so short and fragile that not even the bident bestowed was needed for the harsh lesson of how the "real world" was, according to him. Them, and their maiden caretakers.

And the Chosen thought this was good, because now there was silence.

File: KHANATE - Necromancer.png (80 KB, 2500x2500)

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...

FIFTY NINTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.

...

The Necromancer head came before him again as he sluggishly trotted into their camps.

'You don't look so well.'

"Make them eat."

'Pardon?'

"Make them eat flesh. K-Kill anyone who doesn't."

'...I see. The Warriors will never disobey an order to kill. Even if it is each other they're killing. It will be done.'

The Chosen sauntered past, and the head Necromancer's head followed him as he went.

'But, there is another matter.'

He stopped.

"The e-encampment?"

'Not just that. We've suffered some losses here.'

"Here?!"

And he finally looked to his aide, whose face remained hidden behind animal skulls.

'Strange sorts, something we've never encountered before. They were not seen coming, and wielded the katana and gun indifferently. They took us by surprise, grabbing a number of hostages and fleeing with them. When our Warriors gave chase, they found nothing.'

"Nothing...?"

'Like they had disappeared without a trace. Chased into dead ends and yet gone in the flash. All while... and I do mean this with all due respect, you've been out doing whatever it is you have been doing. I see by that vomit on your mantle... Gorging perhaps? Had an awakening?'

"None of y-hrr, business."

'...'
'Regardless, we must settle this matter. With the Wei relocating their foothold outside the city and transporting resource from the headquarters they still hold down, and the sudden attacks by these grey warriors, we require guidance.'

>Send the tanks. Combine metal with flesh. (ROT AND RUST)
>Unleash Kilmegurt. (AQUAMARINE OUT)
>It was time to activate the sleepers. (UNGOVERNABLE AGENTS)
>The Wei couldn't be allowed to have their fort any longer. Ogre time. (JUST ADD WATER)
>The Wei will kill their own people just as easily, if they have to. This called for a Vengeful Spirit. (CAPITAL PUNISHMENT)
>The Night Gaunts must be released now. They are drones that do what they are told. They can bring resource back. (FLY MY PRETTIES)
>The encampment outside Kloa couldn't be allowed to be set up. The cattle had to be forced back into the pen. (REINFORCEMENTS)

>>6001037
>>The Wei will kill their own people just as easily, if they have to. This called for a Vengeful Spirit. (CAPITAL PUNISHMENT)

>>6001037
>It was time to activate the sleepers. (UNGOVERNABLE AGENTS)

>>6001037
>The encampment outside Kloa couldn't be allowed to be set up. The cattle had to be forced back into the pen. (REINFORCEMENTS)
If the three million refugees escape, that's over half of our necromancer's resources gone and HEUS will not be pleased.

>>6001037
>It was time to activate the sleepers. (UNGOVERNABLE AGENTS)
let's fuck their evac effort

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Across the Siran Region, the Wei was stretched thin. The Trinity may have ruled the region as it was part of the Imperial World of Shengesia, but their rule was light as per their agreements and mutual understandings with the Great Heifer, the Mother Goddess known as Surasira. As was already known, the region was a hotbed for sympathies.

Sympathies for the Afterseas and its various ideals.

A message can trigger an uprising.

"H-Hear me now... followers... and brothersssh of HE-US. The time has c-come. Now we will see who'sh a hunter and who is the h... hunted. Ri-sh up now. RISE! Rise and fulfill the will of Hy-Hyoos! HE-US! Take blade to throat and fire gun at all you see! Trust in your master and he shall certainly guide y-you to a weapon! There... is no reason to do what you will. Simply do, and have the world of y-your desires gifted to you. The time is now."

An uprising anywhere that the pox of the Dark One has been felt at, for any reason.

>Roll 1d20.
>Best of two.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>6002038
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JtBAfr__g9g
Activate the sleeper agents

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>6002038
HE!
IS!
US!

>>6002045
Heusites rise up ! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R_G7yD5KCPg

Rockets pop in cockpits. Stabbings rage out of control. Whatever red they could find, they put on and wore. There was little search done for a weapon, the Wei had already made a grave, desperate mistake arming the Kloans with their surplus. And it didn't matter that the Wei technically had more guns on their side than the new Damned swelling among them did, for Kloans would refuse to shoot other Kloans, even if it were the Kloans that didn't.

Many people had been planted among the rabble months prior in preparation for this day. Just as with any city, it was an uncertainty who was secretly a Damned and who was beginning to become one. They hid themselves well, and all but outright reading their mind failed to expose them for what they were. In the Siran Region, this move was well practiced. The Dark Lord had a follower in every settlement in the world, that was guaranteed. Even if it was a single person, every settlement had one.

So now the Wei were faced with further disharmony. People were terrorizing them from the inside, anarchists, the easiest of their bunch. Yet, they had been taken by such surprise in the midst of their struggles, that they lost a number of their Dropships when the newly initiated terrorists followed the message they heard and acted. More than what the Chosen even expected to fulfill the call answered, and now only one hundred thousand of the three million left in Kloa abroad were safe and away from harm's reach.

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...

SEVENTY SEVENTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.
TWO MILLION HAVE BEEN KILLED.

...

It took a while for the Wei to kill all the awakened anarchists among their group, suffering a staggering loss of two thousand civilians in the process. Now all they could hope to do was hold out and pray the Emperor gave their Shen Ce the strength to pull through the Kloan crisis still raging.

But they had a glimmer of hope left, with reinforcements surely on the way from Easterlind City, did they not? Or the Samurai en route from the Capital now even.

But, at any moment, monsters beyond the Wei's ability to control and contain could burst forth and break their stronghold, leaving the city entirely laid bare to the Damned. The Commissar senior among them thought he had no choice now but to engage in a final, risky ploy.

He issued a challenge to the Chosen One, arranging a duel to take place in the Middle. It was a simple ploy, but if pulled off effectively, a miraculous one. For by killing the Chosen, the cohesion of the Damned and their beasts, something barely extant as is, would be broken in an instant. The HEUSites would devour each other right away, and the result, even if it were a failure, would still satisfy the Dark Lord regardless.

But what was important was that, if he succeeded, the crisis would be over in no time.

But if he failed? The crisis continued.

The Chosen, receiving this message, had to make a choice now, and decide what meant more to him. His will to serve his rapist? Or his pride? His belief in might maketh right, or his need to live...

>The Chosen accepted the challenge and went to face the Commissar in the Middle.
>The Chosen accepted the challenge, and ensured his victory by any dirty means.
>The Chosen accepted the challenge, and then had the Commissar whisked away by his men and slaughtered, just to send a message that they didn't play fair, they didn't negotiate or engage.
>The Chosen simply had him fooled and sniped once he revealed himself.

>>6002088
>The Chosen accepted the challenge, and ensured his victory by any dirty means.
fairplay is the tool of fools and weaklings https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jI4HRS3Tmbc

>>6002088
>>The Chosen accepted the challenge, and then had the Commissar whisked away by his men and slaughtered, just to send a message that they didn't play fair, they didn't negotiate or engage

>>6002088
>The Chosen simply had him fooled and sniped once he revealed himself.

>>6002088
>The Chosen accepted the challenge, and ensured his victory by any dirty means.
Easily done. HEUS is with Us, because He Is Us.

>>6002088
>The Chosen accepted the challenge, and ensured his victory by any dirty means.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMeuVpZiBz4

Of course, might does make things right. Might puts things to rights. But, one must survive, even at the cost of others falling. Especially if others fall. All these things and more are something that the Destroyer of Light pushes for.

And it is so very confusing, that malice. All encompassing hatred, of even itself. The destruction and eradication of all foundations, even the destruction of destruction itself. What did the Devil truly even want? Perhaps it was nil, or perhaps it was simply unending spirals of chaos and anarchy.

The Chosen shakes his head and clears his mind. The Devil is truly beyond a mortal's cognizance, and that was why he was so great, wasn't he? The Chosen has to survive, but he has to prove he is strong as well. He is not like other mortals, but the Chemically Immortal Commissar was indeed stronger still. A jian of iconel-chromium would not carve the bident, but the Chosen's body would not wear the strike. He had to ensure this fight was not his last. Insta-Rust, an offensive solution produced by the Cultists of KILLALL, it was one of their favorite ways to deal with the Chemical Immortals and their less organic beings. The corrosive substance had to be contained in a special leather weaved from the skin walls of the depths in Dis. It would eat right through their bodies, and their nerves, causing them most noisome pain, even if they were not designed to feel it.

And so the challenge transpired in the Middle. The Chosen met with the Commissar, their cohorts staying their ground. Bident and jian were raised against each other.

The Chosen hurled the Insta-Rust hidden under his sleeve all over his opponent as they locked weapons, and he fell over.

The Chosen went to impale him then, but a blade scoured his back, and he screamed, swinging wildly behind himself at seemingly thin air, only then noticing the grey form that came to assault him. One of them, the ones the Necromancer spoke of, come to assassinate him in the confusion.

The grey warrior rose, and sliced again with his sword at the Chosen...

>1d100
>Best of three.

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>6003486
Foolish ninja

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>6003486

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>6003486
Rollan' for not looking like a complete scrub.
>INB4 Nat1

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...and the Chosen's arm flew, now a left stump alone. He felt all feelings go cold in his body, paralyzed by the fear filling him then. It was a terrifying sensation, because now there was nothing there to feel where there should be. His glazed eyes focused out, away from the grey arrival, and more to the blade he wielded. The vibrating, molecular disrupting blade of a Samurai for sure.

The Chosen squealed like a pig, and stumbled back on his feet, clutching the bident he now wielded with one hand and three fingers only. He stabbed forth, a reaction that transpired all of a sudden with little actual thought put behind it, and he skewered the grey warrior, but they dislodged themself and backed off, not truly put down by the stroke. The Commissar who had challenged the Chosen, eroding steadily into a pile of melting rust, but not nearly gone just yet, rose, and raised that jian at the Chosen.

The Chosen was truly afraid. Him, afraid. When he was supposed to be the fear. The dreaded father couldn't have been more amused and displeased at the same time...

>The Chosen ordered his men to attack. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKNESS)
>The Chosen gave into instinct, and fought like an animal. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKENING)
>The Chosen tried to flee. (THEY SHALL SEE HIM FALL)
>The Chosen begged for his life. (THEY SHALL SEE HIS TRUE COLORS)

>>6004149
>The Chosen gave into instinct, and fought like an animal. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKENING)
GOTTA LET IT OUT, GOTTA LET IT OUT https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WpnPSChVRQ

>>6004149
>The Chosen gave into instinct, and fought like an animal. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKENING)
TAKE REFUGE IN WRATH!

>>6004149
>>The Chosen gave into instinct, and fought like an animal. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKENING)
Retard mode engage

Rolled 5, 6 = 11 (2d6)

>>6004149
S:Ascend

>>6004149
>>The Chosen gave into instinct, and fought like an animal. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKENING)

>>6004149
>>The Chosen ordered his men to attack. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKNESS)

>>6004149
>The Chosen gave into instinct, and fought like an animal. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKENING)

>>6004149
>The Chosen gave into instinct, and fought like an animal. (THEY SHALL SEE WEAKENING)

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The Commissar moved forward then, swinging that jian down at the Chosen who dodged in that moment, letting the blade harmlessly smash the concrete below. The Chosen felt curtains fall over his eyes, purple drapes of frenzy. His gums bled, pressed in his mouth. The taste of his own blood sent him over the edge. He screamed out like a wild animal and swung the bident around, slicing across the Commissar's neck with its second blade and leaving the head hanging on by a thread, until it fell off completely and the body stumbled down and over.

Feet thumped the concrete below. The grey warrior came charging again, but the Chosen reacted quickly and hurled his bident, piercing them again through the chest. Their run ground to a halt until they fell to their knees, and the Chosen grabbed the fallen Commissar's jian then to finish the job, slamming the blade over and over again into the figure's helmet until they were dead, until their head was busted wide open, nothing but faint sprays of blood and electric sparkles released through.

He retrieved his gifted weapon and raised it to the air, howling wildly. For the first time, he could scream like an animal. He had this right.

And yet, now that the fight was over, there was only silence.

Nobody had saw. Most had left. The Wei began to pull back at the order of a second Commissar the moment they saw their senior begin to melt. The Warriors of the Khanate left the moment their Chosen lost his arm. To them, he was a goner. There was little reason to stay behind for him now... And why would they? The Head Necromancer was the driver behind the very reason they were here. The Chosen until now, had simply been the one to lead the charge. They saw him weaken. He was now bereft of any strength. And that blood rush...?

...

Just like the Midget said.

None had witnessed his triumph, his one moment of glory. Why was he deprived?

>Scream to HEUS. (Input.)

>>6005027
>”ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED ? IS THIS NOT TO YOUR LIKING ? THEN I’LL GIVE YOU A SHOW YOU WON’T FORGET.”

>>6005027
>"I AM STRONG! THEY ARE WEAK! THIS, I WILL REMIND YOU"

>>6005027
>"Y-You think... You think I-I need an au-audience? Ghaah... FUCK THEM! I'M A SURVIVOR. I-I'LL L-LIVE FOREVER! THIS-- THIS IS J-JUHST A F-FACKING SCRATCH! I DON'T NEED ANYONE TO WITNESS ME, DOGS DON'T F-FUCKING WAIT FOR SOMEONE TO WATCH TH-THEM TEAR A CAT IN HHU-HALF! IT'S SU-SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST, HAPPENING E-EVERYWHERE, EVEN W-WHERE YOU DON'T LOOK!! I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYONE'S BULLSHIT VALIDATION! STRENGTH IS MY FAMILY!! MY ONLY FAMILY!!! AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!"
WE. WILL. SURVIVE.

>>6005027
>Simply roar, guttural and true; words are for weaklings and charlatans who are unable to prove their strength

>>6005314
I'll support this because it's the most intricate of them.

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"Y-You think... You think I-I need an au-audience?"

The Chosen's knee slammed the dirt and concrete below, as did his fist. If he had any teeth left to grit, he surely would have, but settled for gumming himself to bleed again as always.

"Ghaaaaaah....!. FUCK THEM! I'M A SURVIVOR. I-I'LL L-LIVE FOREVER! THISH-- THIS IS J-JUHST A F-FA-C-CKING SCRATCH! I DON'T NEED ANYONE TO WITNESS ME, DOGS DON'T F-FUCKING WAIT FOR SOMEONE TO WATCH TH-THEM TEAR A CAT IN HHU-HALF! IT'S SU-SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST, HAPPENING E-EVERYWHERE, EVEN W-WHERE YOU DON'T LOOK!!"

He said this to nobody in particular.

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYONE'S BULLSHIT VALIDATION! STRENGTH IS MY FAMILY!! MY ONLY FAMILY!!! AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!"

Before he fell over slowly into the dirt and sparse patches of concrete pavement. His face plummet direct into a puddle that formed from a busted pipe which exploded during the detonation of the Inebriates. His scream turned into a gurgle before he rolled over. And then, the scream interrupted for the minute, with the rush of battle gone now leaving him to remember the pain he felt. It struck him like a blazing vehicle, and he groaned out, before screaming again, clutching the stump where formerly his left arm was attached as it bled out.

He gasped for air, ripping off the capirote choking his face and neck.

"Why...?"

Why indeed.

In that moment, the Chosen sought...

>Answers and TRUTH.
>Guidance and STRENGTH.
>Retribution and REVENGE.

>>6007452
>Answers and TRUTH.

>>6007452
>Guidance and STRENGTH.
Strength is the only thing we want. STRENGTH is the only thing we need!

>>6007452
>Retribution and REVENGE
Since when have wild dogs ever done anything but lash out at those around them?

>>6007452
>>Guidance and STRENGTH.

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As always. It was the only answer, it was the final answer to the riddles of Hainei. Strength. Strength was the only guidance one needed to live their life by. Richard was adamant he'd never need to heed anything else except this exquisite meme passed down to him by the Dreaded Father.

The Chosen picked up his bident and propped himself up. He took a moment to pull the capirote back over his head and then sauntered off from the Middle, back towards where his force made camp.

They left him. The do-nothings. The bloody serfs. He thought, while he was leading, what were they doing? Blind pillaging, mindless hedonism. It was the same mistake that caused the sacrifice of the Inebriates, and yet now that he was wounded, they thought they could detach. That was what Richard reasoned, in his small brain. Of course, he thought it was the Necromancers. It must had been their fault, they had the most sway, the most authority beyond him...

...They were vital to fulfilling the Dreaded Father's will, thus they must had seen themselves are more potent, more valuable than the Chosen One!

"T-They di-did this. They... they waited." He said to himself; "T-They waited and pushed me to this..."

His reason was senseless, yet he fully believed it. The man who undertook willfully a challenge.

"They're j.... just jealosh...."

Wanting his power, he thought...

...

ONE HUNDRED AND TWELFTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.
TWO MILLION HAVE BEEN KILLED.

...

The Chosen had long walked through the residential district, wheezing. His missing left arm had been fried with fire to cauterize the wound. He noticed many sidelong glances and glares from his followers. The faithful and ambitious.

He waved the bident at the Head Necromancer.

"Wh-What do you TAKE ME FOR?!"

'Beg pardon?'

"D-Do you th-think I'm-haa... a m-mid-get!? I'm not! I'm tall! Taller than YOU!"

His bident in one arm swung, smashing down a skeletal assortment acting as an altar to the dark god.

'Blazing hell, what's gotten into you?' The Necromancer shrunk back; 'What's this all about?!'

"You think you'll take over from me...?"

The Head Necromancer grunted.

'You sodden fool. We are at the cusp of this grand undertaking's finale. Tomorrow, after the morn, we will have gained enough power and kegare needed to imbue the worms. The Necrotowers will rise.'

"And y-you think this means you will be Chosen next?! I am the Chosen One!"

'Have you not served your purpose? You forget your liege.'

"..."

'We have to hold down Kloa at all costs, imbecile. The Samurai are here. Our scouts report that they muster at the refugee camp outside the zone. Do you understand what this means? They will banzai charge us in the morn! A whole army of them, far more than us. We cannot risk anything at this point! We must hold out in time to fulfill our destiny!'

Had only the Head Necromancer the slightest idea of the madness brewing in the head of the man named Richard Ray Peat at this very moment. Had he only a glimpse.

'Are you going to risk our success with your infantile outburst?! Your talk of midgets? You killed the only midget around here. Had you the thought you he saw you as one? A bloody midget?'

And he wasn't even calling Richard one...

>Nevertheless, he strove to show the Necromancer who was a midget.
>He had a lapse in judgment. Yes, the Necromancer was right... but they were not needed anymore, not to complete the Necrotowers. They were only trying to usurp the Chosen now.
>But the Chosen took this differently. He believed he was being called out as weak as a leader, from a Necromancer in fear of Samurai. He decided to break their spearhead early, and rallied the forces.
>He unleashed Kilmegurt, out of impulse.
>He tried to calm down, and think clearly...

>>6009356
>He tried to calm down, and think clearly...
We must have strength of mind.

>>6009356
>He tried to calm down, and think clearly...
"Think Ray Peat, Think!."

Richard breathed. He breathed in and out. His watery eyes stared at the Necromancer past stretched back lids before they rolled down towards the floor. He began to think, was he overreacting? Was he all upset for nothing, really? He zoned out, for the second. Couldn't hear anything.

Was this wrong? He thought. Was he setting himself on the path to disappoint daddy yet again? All over insecurity.

Then, he looked back up. The Necromancer couldn't be seen past his animal skull helmet, but he was talking. The Chosen realized he was talking.

'----the midget had it coming, what with how often he-'

"What did you d-dj-just call me?!"

'Idiot. I did not call-'

The bident pierced the head cleanly, the Head Necromancer fell limp and collapsed as soon as it was pulled free. A simple thrust he lashed out with in an instant.

He heard a gasp. The Chosen looked to the side. Cultists of Death, and Necromancer pilgrims below the head. One of them was clutching a dagger.

"Reb-bellion?"

>He attacked to silence them before they could spread the seeds of mistrust.
>He declared himself strong, and the Head weak. He sought to cow his underlings.

>>6009653
>He declared himself strong, and the Head weak. He sought to cow his underlings.
They will SUBMIT because we are STRONG!

>>6009653
>He declared himself strong, and the Head weak. He sought to cow his underlings.

>>6009653
>>He declared himself strong, and the Head weak. He sought to cow his underlings.

>>6009653
>He declared himself strong, and the Head weak. He sought to cow his underlings.

>>6009653
>>He declared himself strong, and the Head weak. He sought to cow his underlings.

>>6009653
>He declared himself strong, and the Head weak. He sought to cow his underlings.

"D-j-... You see that?! Tha... was why I am STRONG!" Richard shouted at the top of his lungs. "He was weak! T-This is why I'm in chargh-"

'Traitor!'

The accusations were quick to be thrown. One cultist pointed with his deformed hand of evil; 'He slays his own clergy! He is a traitor to the Father of Revolutions!'

The Chosen couldn't believe his ears. They dared label him a traitor? When he was the handpicked by the Hand of Evil itself? It was blasphemy. The real blasphemy. Blasphemy that up until now, never really mattered to him. The most religion he, and most could derive from the Khanate was the mindless repeating of the phrase "He is Us".

'Inform the others!'

The Cultists ran. They ran to tell the rest. They went to sow the seeds of mistrust. The Chosen grimaced, he should have went for the kill right away, and spared none. Instead, he wasted time on words, like a damned weakling...

The Necrotowers were on the verge of coming alive. What if they tried to spoil it in their drive to spite the Chosen? What if they attempted to interfere with his work given by his own dad? Dad would not allow it. Not them interfering, but failure. Failure couldn't be allowed! The Warrior caste could surely come to his aid, and slaughter the cultists, but in doing so would create a divide! A divide! All sects here would soon tear each other apart! The Chosen had to ensure the task was completed! But the Samurai were coming as well. They would only benefit from the Damned weakening one another... he had to do something, but what?

His mind jumped to places. He thought of how the Head Necromancer was not truly dead, how he could unleash his personal pet, Kilmegurt. How he could use Spiritua to cast a spell on those blasphemers...

What?

What to do? What to do...?

>Richard is having trouble thinking for himself. What's his first impulse?

>>6010433
WE DON'T NEED STUPID NECROMANCERS!

FORCE EVERYONE TO FOLLOW OUR BIDENT!

WE'RE MAKING A CHARGE AGAINST THE SAMURAI!

>>6010439
Dark Bren- Bident will fix it, time to judge those triators

>>6010433
Rixhard needs a drink, it'll help him think

Richard's eyes darted every which way. He looked for a solution, in paranoia. He knew something had to show itself. Just then, his eyes darted up to the ledge of a blown out building above. An apartment that was bombed out. The former Head Necromancer, now pierced, had used that to address and direct the cultists. It was a good vantage point.

He rushed through a broken doorway, scaling stairs quickly until he came out above, from where he saw the Cultist works below and the piles of flesh armor being melded to suit the worms. He saw the rest of the neighborhoods as well of the residential district, occupied by his myriad Warriors imposing themselves upon their hostages at their leisure.

He used the bident to prop himself up higher, clinging to the concrete wall and hugging along it, stepping up on the protruding rebars from it.

"HEAR ME!" He shouted, heads turning upwards.

"BY HEUS, HEAR ME NOW!" He sang, to all at attention; "AND MAKE READY!"

But it was his next words that truly consolidated their attention. He said to them all, loud as he may -- "AT DUSK, WE MARCH ON THE SAMURAI!"

And now his singing was complimented by the uproar of the chorus before him. The Damned rose from where they sat and began shouting and screaming in excitement. Weapons were held high and arms were thrown up. Some even jumped. They raised swords and spears, even bombs!

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But they still had many a hostages, on top of those left in the city, at the Wei's stronghold. If most of them were to leave, the Wei would try to counterattack. The Damned couldn't fight a battle on both fronts.

But the Damned here... damn them.

The Chosen had no more attachment to these glorified henchmen, who walked away. They left, he thought. So everyone was going to pay alike, all these weaklings...

But still... it falls to him, as always. The Cultists can't turn anything around on him, not with the drums of war beating, for he ordered anyone who disagrees to be killed. But the hostages...

>...they will all be sent marching in front of the Damned on the way to war. They will be forced to charge the Samurai head on themselves, screaming helplessly, used as a wall of meatshields. A human wave of innocent buffers.
>...they will be used for more blood sacrifices, more killings, to open more Daemasses, to create more Monsters. More Monsters, to join these Monsters. More killers, to kill more. More everything, more forces!

>>6011515
>>...they will be used for more blood sacrifices, more killings, to open more Daemasses, to create more Monsters. More Monsters, to join these Monsters. More killers, to kill more. More everything, more forces!

>>6011515
>...they will be used for more blood sacrifices, more killings, to open more Daemasses, to create more Monsters. More Monsters, to join these Monsters. More killers, to kill more. More everything, more forces!
Forcing them to DIE against the samurai would please HEUS but killing the samurai would please HEUS even more.

>>6011515
>>...they will all be sent marching in front of the Damned on the way to war. They will be forced to charge the Samurai head on themselves, screaming helplessly, used as a wall of meatshields. A human wave of innocent buffers.

>>6011515
>...they will be used for more blood sacrifices, more killings, to open more Daemasses, to create more Monsters. More Monsters, to join these Monsters. More killers, to kill more. More everything, more forces!
the wei is probably giving 0 fucks for hostages now.

>>6011515
>...they will be used for more blood sacrifices, more killings, to open more Daemasses, to create more Monsters. More Monsters, to join these Monsters. More killers, to kill more. More everything, more forces!

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...They were irrelevant now. What, with the prospect of going to war with the superior forces of the Samurai, and being flanked by the Wei held up in their stronghold, on top of the possibility of a resurgence of attacks from the mysterious grey ninjas, there was no point keeping them. Their only use now was as slaughter for meat. Though when they knew what was coming they begged and begged and begged for their lives, the Cultists were merciless in processing them into more piles of Daemass to pull demonic creatures through, besides those that were set aside after their doom for later in fridges.

...

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTIETH HOUR OF CARNAGE.
TWO POINT FIVE MILLION HAVE BEEN KILLED.

...

Now, the time was come after the dusk had been reached. Though the Chosen ordered the Damned to sally out at dusk, the truth is that he himself could no longer tell when was dusk and when was dark. The Inebriates had done a number on the city of Kloa for sure. Their rotgut clouding the skies and sights had blocked the sun out a while back the longer the Kloan crisis went on.

And he had no idea how to read a clock. It was not something he was taught in the upbringing he was told not to memorize.

From out between the collapsed junctions of Kloa, and along its barren highways, the Army of Darkness marched together, as many. The dust of the traps awaited them as they ventured out, masked in the clouds of green and yellow. The closer they strayed from the place fallen and lost to horror, the more warmth they felt from the Sun. They were getting closer.

And so was the enemy. The Samurai came much in the same way, in full force, with even Capital Ships in the sky above, ready to cleanse the streets of Kloa they'd overran. The hulking and burly forms of their mechanical beasts stalked the rear. The vanguard was row after row of Ashigaru, prepared for suicide. The Retainers would hold a steady line, but one that could be broken by the myriad Demons, Beastkin and spirits the Damned carried with them.

The skirmish started light, with the Marauders revving up motorcycles to drive headlong into the lines ahead heedlessly of anything else, crazed in their shouting muffled by roaring exhaust pipes. Most of them didn't even make it, cut down by the barrage of tanegashima fire that came first, but those that did exploded gloriously into the lines, forming fractures. It was like knocking down dominoes among a horde of drones, or squashing the ants at the forefront of a mound. Immediately, mortars popped off into the air, and riders on grim horseback flowed across the land with spectral howls. Red line tunneled below the dirt to emerge with teeth clawing and gnashing from the Undead Beasts. Silvery shades, Revenants, passed through bodies, and they fell.

The crisis of Kloa was coming to a climactic end.

Now, the newcomer would lash out, just as the Dark One predicted.

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In one moment, the Chosen was shouting with glee as his bident went through the torso of an Ashigaru, surrounded by the light red purity of Samurai warriors and the dark bloody red savagery of the Damned. It was a moment in which he was truly enjoying himself. Of course it had to be spoiled.

'Chosen!'

He turned around. A Warrior was running towards him, spooked by something. It was unnatural, because even the Samurai were frightened by it. That Warrior's gauntlet covered claw was pointing skywards, so the Chosen swung around and spotted what they were shouting about. Violet strings of light falling through the sky. Just an ordinary looking thing, no different to him than a shooting star or chemtrail. But it was horrifying, to be sure. The star was shot, and it was headed right for them. Perhaps not for them, but the planet itself.

That string split off, into nearly four streaks more, and impacted the ground. The crackle of its pop shattered their ears, and a force swept much of them off their feet. Nuclear heat, and even Psychic energy scorched the land. The refugee camp set up by the officials outside Kloa was blasted away, everyone there dying in an instant. Much of the Samurai's army on the field died, but unfortunately so did many of the Damned and their creatures stuck in the fray.

The Chosen was thrown back and bumped his head, nasty. He fell unconscious.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSCpGRF71wo

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The Chosen was coughing before he was even awake. It was so clouded, his vision. He struggled to get up without the added leverage of having both his arms. Richard was scared. Scared, having had the moment of his life spoiled, and failing to realize what that was. He remembered seeing the bright magenta and violet, reddish hue fall from the sky, and then level everything in sight. He suspected Trinity foul play here, but they didn't usually bombard their own troops, just their own people. This was different.

"K-Kh! Kouh! Aurgh... a-a-ghh.."

What's this, he wondered? He felt something. It felt tingly. It felt painful in his lower half. Shrapnel? Even worse somehow, when he landed wherever he did, a sword plunged down into his leg from some stray Samurai. The vibrating blade that disrupted molecules was embedded in his left, and the high frequency was still on. It wouldn't even allow him to properly bleed. He barely moved an inch and it severed more of his nerves and muscle easily. Any sudden movement, like a faint spasm or pull, and his leg would be in two, cleanly. It was not a normal blade. Leaning up would be trouble.

'Hurgh?!'

But he had to now, or never.

His stitched eyes looked over. There was a Retainer walking across the devastation, finishing off survivors of the Damned. Now, he saw the Chosen. Like Richard, he too was one armed, heavily damaged and stripped of armor, revealing much synthetic patchwork below. It was metallic gore.

'P-PU-RR-RRYUURRRR-I-I-FFF-FF-CATION!' His damaged voice-box spat out, like a glitched reading.

The Chosen quickly rose, as adrenaline pumped through his body. He grabbed the handle of the blade stuck in his leg and ripped it out, careless of the damage. He screamed. What would daddy think?!

"GET OVER IT, PUSSY!"

Richard growled.

"Nnn... NNNGAAAAAAA!"

And he jumped up, and ran towards the Retainer. The Samurai was split in two by the katana before he knew it. Richard discarded the blade, dropping it. Where was his bident? There, he saw it stuck in between two bodies and went to fish it out.

"Brhbl..."

He caught himself before he could fall, blood pouring from his lips. Ah, there was the shrapnel, it was embedded in his gut the whole time, he didn't even realize yet. What would daddy think?

"MAN UP, CHICKEN SHIT!"

He fished his bident out and looked up. The Damned were rising. Behind him, the hulk of a crashed Capital Ship was ran into the ground, it must had crashed in time to shield him from the brunt of the blasts. The Chosen was counted among the lucky.

'Chosen One!' Came a Warrior running, the same one that had caught his attention before the bombardment; 'What do we do?!'

(NECROTOWERS: 3)

>Finish the Samurai off. Eliminate every last weakling...
>Back to Kloa. The Necrotowers will awaken soon.

>>6012785
>>Finish the Samurai off. Eliminate every last weakling...

>>6012785
>Back to Kloa. The Necrotowers will awaken soon.

>>6012785
>Back to Kloa. The Necrotowers will awaken soon.
Bring as much meat as we can with us. More flesh for the towers...

>>6012785
>Back to Kloa. The Necrotowers will awaken soon.

>>6012785
>Back to Kloa. The Necrotowers will awaken soon.

>>6012785
>>Back to Kloa. The Necrotowers will awaken soon.

>>6013034
Why was simplenada banned

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"G-Gather as many as you can. Press back, back t-to the city." Richard rasped out.

'But Chosen, there are still many Samurai! They will be able to continue the offense if they regroup!'

The Chosen One shook his head.

"We'll... the Necrotowers... it won't m-matter."

He didn't bother to say another word, and the Warrior saw no reason to protest further. Regardless if there were Samurai or not still, it was time to profit. All the hard work would pay off here. Now everyone would get what they wanted by fulfilling the Dreaded Father's will.

For the Chosen, he felt that a world of the strong was nigh.

The Warriors and those left that they could drag back gathered and made towards a slow march back to Kloa.

...

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FORTH HOUR OF CARNAGE.
TWO POINT NINE MILLION HAVE BEEN KILLED.

...

But, it was not the end of troubles. Not by a long shot.

When the Chosen arrived, the first thing he saw was one of the mighty Ogres being felled by one shot from a grey warrior's massive implement, something he carried easily, despite its size and heft. The sounds of continue fighting and struggles were heard throughout Kloa. A dropship hovered overhead, and the Chosen and his warband took cover in an alley.

Richard was stunned. He demanded to know what was going on.

'Samurai in the streets.' Answered a hiding Cultist slinking out, one that remained behind.

'They arrived in a split off force before the stars fell and shook the earth, and made link with the Wei. Now the Chemical Immortals and the Kloans are trying to clear the city of the rest of us. But that's not all. The grey warriors came back. They came back in force. I'd never seen soldiers so powerful... they wiped out most of us in the district we held. Now they're engaged with the Samurai and Wei too. Our monster can't turn the tide.'

'They're all trying to destroy our work. Our Necrotowers!' The Cultist swore.

This was inconceivable...

...The Chosen felt like his world, his precious world was slowly slipping out of his grasp.

"NOOOO!" He screamed, shattering the nearest window with his own head.

He grabbed the Warrior that tailed him thus far by his harness, holding him close. The Chosen's normally milquetoast eyes were angry, just like then when he was in the duel at the Middle.

"T-TELL THEM-"

>To send everyone to their death taking the holdings back. (HUMAN WAVE TACTICS)
>To unleash Kilmegurt, who was saved instead of let loose. He's still in lockup. It is time to unleash him. (AQUAMARINE OUT)
>To call the Spirits. Let them fly towards the enemy. (SPECTRAL ASSASSINS)
>To plead to the Dark One for help. It's the only thing that can be done now! (SUFFER)
>To destroy the rest of the underground. It doesn't matter if the Necrotowers sink, they will emerge! But they must be protected! (IRRATIONALITY)

>>6016074
>>To unleash Kilmegurt, who was saved instead of let loose. He's still in lockup. It is time to unleash him. (AQUAMARINE OUT)
UNLEASH THE BEAST

>>6016074
>To unleash Kilmegurt, who was saved instead of let loose. He's still in lockup. It is time to unleash him. (AQUAMARINE OUT)
The time has come! Down with the Samurai, down with the Emperor!

>>6016074
>To unleash Kilmegurt, who was saved instead of let loose. He's still in lockup. It is time to unleash him. (AQUAMARINE OUT)
Time to let the beast shine.

>>6016074
>>To unleash Kilmegurt, who was saved instead of let loose. He's still in lockup. It is time to unleash him. (AQUAMARINE OUT)

>>6016074
>To unleash Kilmegurt, who was saved instead of let loose. He's still in lockup. It is time to unleash him. (AQUAMARINE OUT)

>>6016074
>To unleash Kilmegurt, who was saved instead of let loose. He's still in lockup. It is time to unleash him. (AQUAMARINE OUT)

>>6016074
>To unleash Kilmegurt, who was saved instead of let loose. He's still in lockup. It is time to unleash him. (AQUAMARINE OUT)

Level can you please stop gooning to Seannsa’s OnlyDeities and doot ?

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The pet, of course. It was a rudimentary creature, a deadly one. Mindless killers were effective ones, and the Chosen always kept his mindless killer stashed away, had he ever a need for it, and now was the time.

"G-Go. Tell the Necromancers left, through the Daemasses. G-GO!"

The Warrior scurried off where the Chosen threw him. He was splattered the moment they saw him. The fire of the grey warriors was not to be trifled with.

'My Ch-Chosen!' Another Warrior stammered. 'There's too many!'

The Chosen heard an unmistakable cry in the distance over the sound of fighting from the residential district. Then, the ground pulsed with mighty thumps. The Samurai were all attempting another banzai charge at the grey warriors.

"Then y-you all go, cowards!" The Chosen demanded.

His cultists and Warriors took off, assaulting the other flank of the grey ones when their attention was divided. It gave them a chance to swarm some of their ninjas, and kill them in between exchanging fire with their lasers. The stronger ones were more concerned holding off the Samurai. The Chosen began running into the residential district at the same time he sent all his followers to their deaths giving him a chance.

But how queer the thought. Were the grey ones and the Trinity's puppets not the same after all? They were fighting each other. Why? Well, did it truly matter right now?

'Chosen!'

A Necromancer stumbled behind him, along with a handful of Imp Soldiers and cultists.

'I have readied the incantation to reanimate your beast.'

It was hidden under a pile of tarps on a pallet, each bone stacked on top of one another, on its Aquamarine blade. It was the only way to safely transport it. Even through many layers of material, touching Aquamarine was a death sentence.

The Chosen blinked, he heard another splatter and looked up. There was a grey warrior on a balcony, wielding a hefty rifle. He turned over and saw one of the Imp Soldiers melted from plasma heat. The cyborg hopped down, rumbling the dirt when he landed. The other Imp Warriors exalted, lunging at him with their spears, but none could even penetrate his armor, and then his retaliation blew a hole through a soldier's shield, and then the soldier himself, before he spun around, knocking a head off a shoulder with a blow. The Chosen saw his Necromancer was absent, and now he was left alone with the warrior, and all the dead Imp Soldiers. The grey one turned to him, yet he wasn't afraid.

'Squad Lead, I've got the "Chosen One" in sight.... Okay.'

The grey one raised the plasma rifle.

'It's over, asshole.' The cyborg said.

The Chosen One blinked and shook his head. Then he ducked. not out of the way of the plasma shot. Out of the way of his pet, Kilmegurt, exploding through the building behind. With a single great swing of the Aquamarine sword, the cyborg was split in half. Kilemgurt's strength was great, greater than theirs even.

Daddy was even more vocal today than ever. It sent a shiver up the Chosen's spine.

"K-KILL-MEGURT!" He spat. The skeletal monstrosity turned to him in attention.

He pointed down the way towards the Necrotower construction site, and ritual grounds, where even more grey warriors were.

"CLEAR A PATH!"

The skeletal beast huffed and chattered its gnashing teeth. It hopped off that way immediately, and went into a flight. He'd never seen a beastkin or monster move so fast as his. It took more of the grey warriors by surprise, slashing them right through a building before even rounding the corner. Heads flew. Even waving the Aquamarine near was enough to instantly kill the cyborgs. None of their advanced technology, none of it could pick Kilemgurt up, none of it helped. Plasma washed over the bones uselessly. Lasers and bullets deflected off harmlessly. No matter how strong the cyborgs were, Kilmegurt was stronger. The Chosen almost smiled watching it rip one in half with its free hand.

"..."

'Hey!'

"...?"

He stopped. Where was that voice coming from? That wasn't... one of the ones in his head, was it?

'I know you can hear me! Stop! Stop and listen to me!'

He turned and twisted every which way. Where? He looked down. The PDA grasped in the hand of a dead grey one. It was talking, relaying a voice...

'You have to stop. Listen to what I have to say. It's worth your time.'

"Hugh..."

He snorted and began to move on.

'I'm Markishire Opes!' The PDA cried.

"..." The Chosen turned around; "Y-You..."

'Yeah. It's me. I'm one of those people you took hostage. The psychiatrist among the hostages, remember?'

"..."

'I wasn't here until after you and your... gang began attacking. I was planted.'

"S-Say what you mean."

'I'm not with the Trinity. I'm with another group that has to stop you, before you kill millions.'

"I al-r-ready did. You're too late, fff-fucker."

'Millions more! Damn it, you know what I mean! Listen to me, you're being used! You're not the first "chosen one", and you won't be the last! I looked up your files! We found everything we could. You're being used! You're just a puppet! You're going to die too, if you proceed!'

"..."

'Just listen to me for a damn second! I can prove it!'

>"Ffff...uck offfff...."
>"I don't care if I d-die.... at least you will too."
>"Millions more? Go-good."
>"Speak quickly."
>"DADDY NEVER DI-HID ME WRONG!!!"
>Write in.

>>6019044
>"DADDY NEVER DI-HID ME WRONG!!!"
HEEE ISSS USSS!

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>>6019044
>"DADDY NEVER DI-HID ME WRONG!!!"

>>6019044
>C-cope and seeeethe... I WIN!"

>>6019044
>"Millions more? Go-good."

"DADDY NEVER D-HID ME WRONG!" The Chosen shouted as loud as he could.

'I looked your file up! Your name is Richard Peterson! You were born in Mirrelia, Siegesia, at nine thirty five PM on a Monday. Year four nine seventy seven. You were kidnapped from Host Harrier orphanage at birth by Gwai Zorok, Death Cultist. More commonly known as "The Midget".'

"..."

'You were fucked up since birth by them to create the monster you are now. Don't you get it? You were trained to be a PUPPET. Discarded as soon as it completes your mission. You're brainwashed, Richard! Do you understand? You didn't have to end up this way, they MADE YOU END UP LIKE THIS! YOU'RE BEING USED!'

The Chosen slammed his foot down into the PDA, breaking it in half.

Manically, he began to mumble, grasping his dirty capirote and once again ripping the thing off his head. He reached up, wincing as he grasped between his two fingers one of the staples that held his coarse eyes forever open. He wanted to rip it out. He wanted to shut his eyes at long last. He moaned out in pain as he pulled the staple free. It sounded so wet and nasty, and he felt something dribble down his own cheek, something he wasn't used to having spilled of his own.

One staple, just one, and already he could barely even close his shaking hand as he dropped it. It was so painful, and he hated the noises he was making. These noises were so pitiful, they sounded pathetic. There were still several more staples in one eye alone, not even counting the other. If he wanted to close his eyes finally, he had to peel them all out, extracting each one.

...

But he wasn't supposed to yet! Not until he'd finally done what he needed to!

"What am I doing...?"

The task wasn't finished.

Shouldn't daddy have said something? When he dared to grab his staple? Shouldn't he have raised a scolding voice? No... he was silent right now. His last words still stood. "Make haste". Was the Dreaded Father concerned?

...

Did daddy truly hinge everything upon a pathetic shell like Richard right now? Was he truly in pause, hoping his Chosen would press on? And if he didn't, and if he did, would he soon ready another one to give that mantle to?

"..."

>"I don't care."
>"I care now."

>>6020030
>>"I don't care."

>>6020030
>"I don't care."
We do what HEUS wants, because He Is Us.

>>6020030
>"I don't care."
Me ne frego

>>6020030
>"I don't care."

>>6020030
>>"I don't care."

>>6020030
>"I don't care."
Was there ever really a choice?

Also Jesus but I feel the need to point that Killmegurt is like the stupidest fucking name ever.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLpIS3Vu9p8

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It doesn't matter. That's just life. It doesn't matter if another gets Chosen one day, all that matters is being Chosen now. The strong decided such things, and daddy was the strongest of all, stronger than anyone, even Huangdi.

The Chosen reached down for his Bident and then carried on. What was the use in telling him what really happened? It didn't change anything. Nobody was there to stop it then, it won't be stopped now. An outreach to help, it was nauseating. The grey ones weren't here to help, they were just here to undo all the work that has been done. Today, they died, for this was the last.

The sounds of fighting ahead, side by side he saw cultists who caught up running past him towards it, retching about the enemies at the Necrotower grounds. The Chosen shook his head and began picking up the pace himself, charging headlong. When he arrived, he saw the grey warriors engaged with his pet. The Undead Beast was whittled down by the cyborgs now, and thought he finished the last one off they managed to take out his limbs until Kilmegurt was left with one leg and his useless tail.

'Zerem, defend!'

A row of men in jumpsuits and balaclavas came forward.

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They opened fire but the cultists weren't scared. They rushed towards the enemy, screaming like wild animals with knives and Spiritua blistering the palms. They took down men and began stabbing them to death, burned some others with a conjured flame, whilst their own brains were blown out and bodies filled with lead.

They clashed and mercilessly killed each other.

The Chosen looked up and saw that psychiatrist, a man with a fuzzy mustache and hairdo, in a distinct blue shirt. He panicked and jumped from the leg of one of the completed Necrotowers yet to rise, running between the monstrosities to flee. They had placed charges around the bodies, hoping to destroy them.

There was no reason to pursue now, the coward was already fleeing...

>But the Chosen wanted to kill him personally and went to hunt. (SATISFACTION)
>So he Chosen decided to bring the Necrotowers to life now, and win. (SAMSARA)

>>6021660
>So he Chosen decided to bring the Necrotowers to life now, and win. (SAMSARA)
ABSOLUTION THROUGH ANNIHILATION! ONE SOUL LAID LOW FOR THE CAUSE OF CHAOS!

TRUE C H A O S!

NO GOD OUTSIDE OF US! HE IS US AND ANARCHY REIGNS!

>>6021660
>So he Chosen decided to bring the Necrotowers to life now, and win. (SAMSARA)

>>6021660
>So he Chosen decided to bring the Necrotowers to life now, and win. (SAMSARA)
Let's be a useful idiot and do what Dad told us to do.

>>6021660
>But the Chosen wanted to kill him personally and went to hunt. (SATISFACTION)

>>6021660
>But the Chosen wanted to kill him personally and went to hunt. (SATISFACTION)
I AM STRONG
SEE HOW THE WEAK FLEE BEFORE ME
THE PLEASURE OF THE HUNT IS MINE

No, forget the swine. Fulfill the destiny.

The Chosen One forgot battle completely, even as it raged around him. He raised his bident with the one hand he had and strode forward towards the altar the Head Necormancer used to lay his curses and seals by tongue with. The Killer Worms had achieved symbiosis with their bodily armor. Corpse strewn plates, with each body being a strip of fleshy lamellar to conceal them. Each body full of Death and Impurity, ready to be released, and to gather more. That was what the towering curses brought on with its gestalt driver. Death. Death would fell more, and create even more Death. A recycling machine of meat for Death. It would spread far and wide, ringing.

He looked up to the Rotgut corrupted sky past steel spears and jagged ridges of destroyed apartments and favelas, planting the very end of his bronzed instrument into the dirt. Then, he turned it upright, and shoved it into his own gut. His blood was wicked, and strong. Spilling blood to ask for the Devil to act was the way of life in a Damned one's existence. Now by spilling his, it was over.

"Uuuugg... B-Bring your poweerr... to Hainei."

The staples pressed down came undone. One by one, they each popped loose of his eyelids on their own, falling down, until his eyes could finally close. Richard rejoiced, he didn't have to see his objective anymore, it was gone and done. His euphoria blinded him, he didn't even feel the Zerem stabbing him in the back over and over again with a combat knife in the belief they could still stop what was to happen.

There was no stopping it now. The Necrotowers began to stir, before the grey ones could even hope to activate their Dark Matter charges and destroy them.

The Death Knell rang, and all was black.

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...

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY SECOND OF CARNAGE.

FIVE MILLION HAVE BEEN KILLED.

KLOA HAS BEEN EXTERMINATED

THE CHOSEN HAS FULFILLED HIS DESTINY.

...

Across the lands of the Siran Region, a paleness of fog descended, bringing in its wake torrents of curses without limit, whitening the land and the people with a shrill touch of Death. There was no chance of outrunning the fog, it spread further than any who could see it would even be able to run. It was better to simply accept what awaited upon seeing the fog.

Three towers scarred Hainei.

In its midst, legion bustled, wiping clean everything for miles, whilst the heavens rained down spears in fright towards the fog, barely stemming the tide.

A heartfelt congratulations must be given to the one Chosen at this time. He exceeded the expectations wildly, and performed better than any of his predecessors in helping to kill the world. Everything that they said will happen, will happen, and now millions more get to finally have some spice in their lives when it comes knocking up on their doorsteps. This horror is truly tremendous, and it was almost painful to admit that, he wouldn't be getting the world he thought he wanted at all. Something wildly different was in mind, but at least the venture was exhilarating.

Because he believed every single told they told him. A truly intriguing experience concerning the destruction and distorting of a mind. There is no use for all the other ones now anyway, they can be safely discarded or used for something else. HEUS got what he wanted.

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The rest of the gods can buckle in fright. The list is big but they are all on it. Richard has made him proud. He can have a reward now for this after all, for all his efforts and assistance, one that is actually just more punishment. He can sit in the Afterseas, in a pit of boiling excrement, forever. Isn't that just nice?

...

END OF SIDESTORY.

>>6022490
Ray Peat did it, even though he’s now in the talmudian hell. Millions will die, billions even.

>>6022490
That was neat! Did we do anything that you weren't us to do?

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