Previous Update: Chaos
The Endless Dead Edit
by Montesque64 (edited by Agrofox and CupcakeTrap)
Recently, the inquisitive yordles of Bandle City decided to use a pyrikhos bomb to blast through the magical seal on an ancient Shuriman tomb, the Pyramid of Akhtal. They crept inside, andcame face to face with an insane Shuriman lich corrupted by the creeping contamination of the Void. They escaped and re-sealed the tomb, but they have grossly underestimated Nefara’s powers …
As the life forces of the intruders faded away, the ancient lich queen Nefara subsided back into her sarcophagus. The stone door would present no impediment, now that the curse which had kept her dormant was broken.
These thousands of years have I waited she thought, I must not balk at a few hours more.
She remembered an old trick, one of the first magicks she had mastered, when her limbs were lithe and supple. The ancient liche queen sent out her consciousness, letting it extend from the sarcophagus which engulfed her, to the tomb, to the surrounding desert. Once, this had been the as far as she could power the spell, but now…she felt as if it this massive expenditure of magic was no more than an idle gesture. Gathering herself, Nefara expanded her mind’s eye even further, until she saw, in detail, the continent, and then the entire world in stunning detail.
The lich queen saw strange magics, and miracles which appeared to run on steam and gears, unlike any she had ever seen before. The world was wracked by small conflicts, and in each she saw magicks which completely escaped her comprehension. The mighty workings of the Shurimen were buried beneath tons of sand, but the inhabitants of this future world performed miracles of equal stature, through means beyond her understanding.
Overwhelmed, the corpse-empress withdrew her mind for a moment. This new world was strange…so strange. Was there nothing here that she could use? Nothing that she could comprehend? Surely she couldn’t have been awakened simply to live a pitiful half life, powerless and vulnerable!
But no…she thought. Here was something familiar. Away, on a distant chain of islands, a magic which called to her. Nefara reached out to it, and it for her, and mystically they embraced, a horrid mockery of mortal affection. The necromantic power of the Shadow Isles flowed into the Lich Queen, and she shuddered once more, desiccated skin rattling against dry bones within her tomb.
As she struggled to contain this new power, she sensed sparks of it elsewhere, scattered across the globe. Slowly, tenderly, she reached out to see…
As the corpse fell into its grave with a dull thud, Yorick Mori sighed. It seemed that his quota was, as always, at least one more. His eyes narrowed, suddenly, as he heard a voice. Serve me, noble undertaker. The voice echoed within his skull, and he gritted his teeth. The pull of the voice was seductive and strong, but he felt a great evil behind it. “I will…not!” The voice returned, redoubled in intensity Serve me, gravedigger, and your name will echo through the centuries! For a brief moment, his resolve wavered at this promised fulfillment of his desire. That was all she needed.
* * *
The wretch before him died, his entrails covering the table, and Karthus ceased prodding at them. This one had taught him nothing new about the process by which a living man became undead. Serve me, mage, a voice whispered, and without a second thought the revenant activated layer upon layer of magical protections with which he had imbued his laboratory. Serve me, wise counselor, and lore unbounded shall be yours. Serve me, seeker, and we shall, together unlock the secrets of undeath. The Voice crashed through his barriers unimpeded, and the lich’s eyes glowed with baleful light, his own powerful will as but a leaf blown before the cackling gusts of her own. He would serve his Queen.
* * *
The last of the soldiers fell, and Mordekaiser slung his massive mace over his shoulder, revelling in the screams of their departing souls. Then, a new sound intruded. Serve me, soldier. “No!” Pronounced the death knight, with a roar. Serve me, armored one. “I will not! I am the dark king, the murder king! You will not command me…you will…I will…serve…my…queen…” The Master of Metal turned slowly, his steely soul no match for the ancient whispers which now bound him.
Across the world, undead beings pledged obedience to their new mistress, and Nefara smiled, rotted teeth framing fetid air as she chuckled, a sound like a viper rustling through dry leaves. She turned her attention to yet another place. A specific place. Home of the misguided mortals who had awakened her. Small, and physically impotent they were, though apparently sentient. They would make a fine beginning, and soon their tiny bodies would be hers, to do with as she pleased.
Across the sands of Shurima shapes began to rise from the sand. Ancient armies, clad in bronze armor, straightened, bones pulling themselves together into ranks and regiments. Piltoveran and Zaunite expeditionary forces retreated in horror, as from the black pyrikhos sands, mutated undead forms arose. As one, the undead abominations began to move, hundreds upon thousands of skeletal feet tromping a thundering rhythm into the desert sands.
In perfect unity they marched, for they were controlled by one mind, as were the bright sparks of undead energy belonging to her Champions, which even now she sensed making their way to join her forces. Nefara marveled at the power she now commanded. But against the forces which she had seen, more would be needed. The small, fuzzy creatures would only be the first, but their corpses would swell her ranks, as their magicks would fuel her own, and then, no nation of this strange new world would be able to stand against her, and the power of Shurima, reborn!
Next Update: Get Jinxed