I like crossover stories. And to me, the most interesting are those which put stories of utter opposites together.
Chapter One
Since the beginning of time, the angelic hosts of the High Heavens and the demonic
hordes of the Burning Hells have been locked in a struggle for the fate of all Creation.
That struggle has spilled over to Sanctuary, the world of men, and neither angel nor
demon can see the eventual victory.
From beyond even these realms, a new power arrived. A power that has no love for
either Heaven or Hell, and had once already destroyed the world of men.
It was dark, and damp, and dirty. It was cramped; a monumentally unimpressive
collection of tents, palisade walls, wagons, and frightened animals. Depending on where
one chose to pace within, it smelled of rotting wood, manure, drying blood, or of acrid
smoke from the forge. The clear space in the center was a cacophony of smells, but it
was where people chose to congregate, for there burned the campfire. Warmth and light
and security were rare and precious pleasures in those days.
It was easy to loathe the Rogue Encampment. It offered a dismal haven, but to those
arriving the sight (and the distinctive stink) brought only relief.
It was infinitely preferable to the hell happening outside.
For hundreds of years, the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye and their band of Rogues
have held to their monastery. These women warriors were renowned for their skill,
ruthlessness and sheer talent with the bow. Clad in red armor so that blood wouldn't
show, armed with ancient magic and knowledge, they made the Eastern Gate all but
unassailable. From their Monastery atop the Tamoe Highlands they could with
confidence repel any marching army. So distinguished was their warcraft that the
Horadrim, that ancient league of sorcerers who did battle with the Prime Evils, even
entrusted some of their most precious relics to the Rogues.
Certainly such a strong but essentially neutral force guarding the only land route
between them helped keep the peace between the Western and Eastern kingdoms.
Kashya, was leader of the Rogues into battle. She staggered back to the camp, with
volleys upon volleys of arrows singing over her head. It was a welcome she could
appreciate. Behind her undead and foul beasts bled, gurgled and died. She helped the
wounded inside, but refusing to enter safety herself, while others outside still fought.
She was a tall, proud woman, clad in a long shirt of ring mail. She glared out the open
gate, past the heavily-warded bridge, to the group of Fallen cavorting in murderous
glee. They were the lowest of all demonic beasts; red, shrunken, and implike.
"Archers!" she shouted. "Clear the bridge!"
Those on the walls seemed tireless; notch and shoot, each arrow accurate and deadly.
Again and again. Their faces were placid, almost meditative. The bows ached to find
their target.
A Fallen corpse suddenly screeched, and returned to life. Somewhere, beyond range was
a Fallen Shaman. The creatures were simple and barely even dangerous. But that crude
existence was also their strength; always fearful, barely more than beasts, but they
clung to life strongly and selfishly. Fallen could only be brought to battle at threat of
harm. And if killed, they could also be so easily brought back.
The Rogue archers seemed tireless in their efforts, but then so did the enemy appear
limitless. Driven from their monastery, slowly the Sisterhood's numbers were being
reduced by endless hordes of monsters, undead and other foul creatures. They grimaced
as they saw skeletons approach... skeletons clad in honor-red Rogue death garb. No!
This sacrilege was intolerable!
"Enchant arrows!" shouted Flavie, one of the Rogues' finest commanders. She poured
her will into the tip of her arrow, and the metal glowed red-hot. Anger turned into will,
turned into power. How dare they?! Sisters, I will avenge! For now, please return to
your rest.
A great volley launched from the encampment, and where each arrow hit, gouts of
magical flame erupted. Dry, mystically-animated bones fell apart.
It wasn't enough. A few skeletons managed to reach the river. However, as soon as
they stepped onto the bridge, the undead minion simply turned to dust. The wards still
held, no unnatural Evil could touch the camp.
Hours later, though it seemed a lifetime, the assault stopped.
"...what happened to the adventurers?" Kashya asked. Swordsmen and a necromancer
formed the rear guard. Of a few dozen hired blades who set out, there were none to
return. Those who were not killed had fled. "What, all of them?! This is intolerable!" Her
voice dropped, as she beheld the remnants of their once glorious Order. She could hate
the demon queen Andariel, but she would only blame herself for letting it fall. "This is
unforgivable...."
It was their first serious attempt at reclaiming their monastery. Within the camp was a
caravan, filled with riches destined for the East. Warriors and mercenaries were lured to
the camp with promises of glory and reward. The Rogues held them in contempt; for
these women had fought Diablo himself, and saw little that sellswords could add to their
might. However, they no longer had any choice in the matter. The Rogue Leader leaned
against an old stone wall, her only surrender to the weariness creeping into her bones.
Inch by inch, the Rogues were dying.
Evil was walking the land. Prayers did nothing. It seemed as if even the Angels, whose
existence were bound to combatting the forces of Hell, had abandoned them. This
battleground of good and evil was left to the hands of humanity.
They needed steel. They needed warriors. But most of all, they needed a miracle.
---------
What is Hell? Is it torment? Is it pain? Is it uncertainty? Then by that regards, to live is
itself is a form of Hell. By knowing others, by moving with others, we risk pain. There is
pain in not knowing. There is pain in being rejected. There is pain in being fragile and
doomed to decay.
What is Heaven? Is it peace? Is it contentment? Is it comfort neverending? Is it the joy
of seeing others long departed, of knowing others completely and being accepted
utterly? Then, this was Heaven.
This red Earth. This barren, dark and ugly world. This world devoid of all life save for
one. A boy, slight of stature, with dark hair and deep, fearful eyes.
He heard clapping. He heard congratulations. He learned to let go.
And reality broke apart.
---------
Akara, High Priestess of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye was a woman of high
learnings. Her understanding of medicine, magic and lore was unsmatched in the
Westmarch, save by the ancient Horadric Order. From pools of knowledge from east and
west did she dip her curiousity into. She meditated in front of her tent, amongst her
tarnished collection of magical items and potions being brewed.
She gasped, and opened her eyes.
Brightness filled her world. Something clad in shining plate mail, with glowing ribbonlike
wings, hovered in front of her.
The words etched into her very soul. Such purity, such ancient power incomprehensible.
"Yes, I see..." she whispered.öI See it!"
The priestess awoke and hurriedly put on her thicker robes. Outside her purple tent it
was still drizzling. Her Rogues, for lack of a better term, were moping. The attack was
disastrous, and having to face their former friends in combat hit badly to morale. No
matter how corrupted they were, these were the faces they had laughed with, dined
with, and sworn to eternal sisterhood to.
Where was Kashya? The older woman found her, as expected, in the medical tent. The
Rogue leader sat slumping on a crate, her long red hair falling matted in front of her
face. She looked up at Akara's approach. Her eyes were dry, but ringed with fatigue.
"I have been given a vision." the priestess said.
"Where was your vision when we were being cut asunder by the corrupted, the undead,
the GOATMEN?!" Kashya snarled. She immediately regretted it, however. The Priestess
was the closest thing to a mother she ever had. She looked away, but the only other
thing to see was the pain of her wounded Sisters. She closed her eyes and breathed
out. "F-forgive me, Akara. I did not know what I was saying."
"It is perfectly understandable, dear. But now we must act, swiftly or all is lost. Demonic
forces are aswarm in the land, and the Heavens call for balance. We must make haste
to the Cairn Stones, where we shall find aid."
Kasha frowned. "That's in the Cold Plains. I am certain that there are corrupted Rogues
about." She looked around, the only ones conscious there were she and the High
Priestess. "We are hardly in any condition to launch an attack, least of all against
Rakanishu."
"If the Fallen, and all their devilkin could be said to worship any creature, it would be
Rakanishu." Akara agreed with a nod. "Even the Prime Evils, they merely fear." She
looked up and put a hand to her chin. "Odd, indeed. The Fallen exhibit a rudimentary
culture, for all their tiny minds. Their ceremonies and symbolism seem to bridge the gap
between what it is to be an unthinking animal and a sapient creature."
"Akara, the Cairn Stones, please." The Rogue leader sighed. "I only need to know enough
about the Fallen to kill them."
The older woman switched back to her placid expression, what she hoped was projected
reassuring knowledge, but merely made her seem only seem condescending. Or to the
uncharitable, always half-asleep.
"The Cairn Stones are magic, ancient magic. Magic to warp space and time, the safer
result of that experimentation is in our Town Portals and the Waypoints."
"Do you know what sort of aid we can expect coming out from the standing stones?"
The priestess shook her head. "Sadly, I was uninformed. It is enough that the Eye could
see past the murk of Evil's shadow. We must go and seize it, protect it; the fate of the
world may depend upon it."
"For weeks, your meditations showed nothing. And now, at the wake of our greatest
defeat since being driven out of our homes? Akara, you must realize, this could very well
finish us off!"
"I... see..."
Anguish shone upon her face. "It is not that I do not trust you, Priestess... but we deal
here with Andariel, the Maiden of Pain, a Lesser Evil, true but potent nonetheless. Her
powers are vast. I cannot send my Rogues out to die. I cannot... enough have been
lost! We cannot go off again, not yet, not so soon..."
The slightest of frowns on passed across Akara's countenance. "Do you believe even I
am at the verge of corruption?"
"Gods! No! No, Akara, no I do not mean THAT!"
"You are wise to be cautious, my child. None of us can stand immune to Evil's influence."
"But then, do you say, I am afraid...? My life is sworn to vanquishing evil! To the
protection of our Monastery! I shirk from nothing, Akara!"
"I do not mean that, either." The high priestess folded her arms in a prayerful gesture.
"Take care that in holding onto what you have, you refuse to accept that which is
freely given. Hold on too tightly, and you only strangle what you hold dear."
"All right. I will go. Let me gather a squad of archers, and lend me a scroll of town
portal." She slapped her bare thighs and stood up. ôThis had best not be a foolÆs errand.
Akara shook her head sadly. It was clear that this was a task only taken at sufferance.
It was accepted not for the hope it might give, but for the chance to kill some more. "I
am afraid that will not do. I must come with you."
The younger woman's refusal was vehement. It was too risky, she explained. The
Sisterhood needed her. The wards protecting the camp relied upon her. The wounded
relied upon her healing arts and her potions.
"I know you do not believe I have the capacity to lead the Rogues into war. If you
cannot believe my vision then believe in me.ö For a second, her eyes flashed a bright
purple, a shade higher than that of her robes. Her arts and he philosophies might have
been geared towards the defensive, but mistake not the power there. "At the very
least, I can render us unseen, and avoid needless conflict."
--
They set out towards the Cold Plains, past the Blood Moor. The ground was soaked from
the rain, spongy and difficult to move through. The rain helped their stealth. There were
monsters about, but like most living creatures loathed the icy rain. The undead and the
hungriest of beasts had no mind to discomfort however.
Kashya, Akara and three archers made it through with minimal fighting. Zombies and Quill
Rats unlucky enough to bump into their misty field were quickly dealt with.
Unfortunately, the magics used for their invisibility were impossible for large groups, such
as that which assaulted the corrupted Monastery. If even such a force failed, then any
smaller group was sure to meet destruction.
The Rogues took cover behind a clump of trees. Despite the rain, a large number of
Fallen were milling around the Cairn Stones. Bishibosh, a Fallen with green skin, slightly
larger than the others, spoke in rapid chittering nonsense. The other Fallen seemed to
understand however, as now and then they would screech as if in fervor and then spit
out his name.
"They are crude creatures..." Akara said."But even they can feel the importance of what
is to happen."
"Why not the stronger monsters?" asked Abhaya, one of the Rogues. The tip of her
ready arrow glowing a faint blue.
"If what Akara saw is correct, then surely such an event must be hidden from the
Great Evil that would most be harmed from it." Unlike the others, Kashya carried a
bundle of javelins. It might not have the range or speed of an arrow, but the heft of
wood was easier to infuse magic into. She squinted at Rakanishu, and his chipped
scimitar. Though the monster had no shield, he could take more than a few arrows.
"Be quick." the High Priestess whisperted. "The event is at hand."
The Cairn Stones; tall, standing massifs of strange graystone began to hum. Runes
etched into them flared a bright blue. The air seemed to stiffen and small sparks
flickered between the boulders. A few Fallen screeched in pain, as they were hit by
several small shocks. Rakanishu, being a creature of lightning himself, cavorted in joy.
A glimmering yellow portal formed at the center of the stone formation.
"Now!" Kashya yelled, surging friom cover. She rapidly hurled a succession of javelins at
Rakanishu. The first two missed. The third impaled him right on the chest. Rakanishu
screamed. Blod spurted out, and in the air burned, becoming silvery. Droplets coalesced
and turned into charged bolts of lightning. Five sharp threads of electricity spun through
the air, cleaving anything in their path.
Kashya threw another javelin, this one leaving green trails of poison behind it. It hit
Rakanishu very close to the earlier javelin. More blood gouted out from the monster's
body, and he seemed to explode into shards of lightning.
The Rogues ducked as trees around them were shorn of branches. The Fallen, seeing
the damage to their hero, let out a feral yell and charged. Cooly, the archers picked
them off as they approached. Akara begam to mumble something, and moved her hands
in front of her face. Finishing, she opened her palms outwards and a grand fireball shot
out. Screams and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Rakanishu fled, still bleeding, still sending out an occasional charged bolt even as his
monstrous healing worked feverishly. The portal energy was getting stronger, and it was
somehow... repulsive to him. He screeched something incomprehensible, and warily the
Fallen also retreated.
With one final burst of energy the portal disgorged something... three things. It flashed
out of existence, and all was silent once more.
The Rogues approached, but ever watchful. Upon seeing what mysterious aid from
beyond was given them, they relaxed a fraction. However, they were also perplexed.
There on the cold, wet ground were three naked and unconscious children. Two girls
with unnatural hair, one with deep orange-red and the other an unnaturally pale shade
of blue. The third was a boy, thin and black-haired.
"Children?!" Kashya yelled. "We stand upon the brink of destruction, and we are given
children?! This is worse than no assistance at all!"
Akara could not hide her own disappointment. However, mysterious indeed were the
ways of Heaven. If one could not trust those Above to combat the legions Below, then
who else was there to look to? She had to hope there was more to this event than what
meets the mortal eyes. "Indeed, they are children. That only means we must hurry
before they come to harm."
She reached into her belt and took out a bound tome of dyed blue leather. She opened
it and tapped a page, while murmuring a unique incantation. Instantly a glowing blue
portal flashed into being in front of her.
"Quickly now. This Town Portal will not remain active for long. We must go before our
magical defenses are breached." The Rogues hurried to comply, each taking a child. The
Town Portal allowed a warping of space and time between two points. It might allow
chasing monsters to get to the Encampment as easily as it would transport them. Akara
had not yet finished setting up the wards that would make it one-way for all but
those who cast it.
Kashya said nothing, but the accusing glare she gave the Priestess was enough. Akara
shook her head. Unfortunately, she had no answers to give.
--------------
Yeeeah, the Children fought Angels before. Now let's see how they face up to Demons.
^_^
Guess what classes I'm assigning to them.
As I said above, the crossovers I like best are so opposite and so WTF, that it actually FORCES the writer to think a little deeper when writing, more than just the thought of cool scenes and pwnage. I tried a little about Bleach/history in this forum (abandoned, ack) but one of the earlier thoughts I had before deciding on Shinji and Warhammer40k was.... Robotech/DnD (specifically, Icewind Dale II). Like the fic I'm going with now, it would have started with an ungodly long prologue, then end up retelling the story we've already seen.
Yes, dammit, it would have -worked-. ^_~
Chapter One
Since the beginning of time, the angelic hosts of the High Heavens and the demonic
hordes of the Burning Hells have been locked in a struggle for the fate of all Creation.
That struggle has spilled over to Sanctuary, the world of men, and neither angel nor
demon can see the eventual victory.
From beyond even these realms, a new power arrived. A power that has no love for
either Heaven or Hell, and had once already destroyed the world of men.
It was dark, and damp, and dirty. It was cramped; a monumentally unimpressive
collection of tents, palisade walls, wagons, and frightened animals. Depending on where
one chose to pace within, it smelled of rotting wood, manure, drying blood, or of acrid
smoke from the forge. The clear space in the center was a cacophony of smells, but it
was where people chose to congregate, for there burned the campfire. Warmth and light
and security were rare and precious pleasures in those days.
It was easy to loathe the Rogue Encampment. It offered a dismal haven, but to those
arriving the sight (and the distinctive stink) brought only relief.
It was infinitely preferable to the hell happening outside.
For hundreds of years, the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye and their band of Rogues
have held to their monastery. These women warriors were renowned for their skill,
ruthlessness and sheer talent with the bow. Clad in red armor so that blood wouldn't
show, armed with ancient magic and knowledge, they made the Eastern Gate all but
unassailable. From their Monastery atop the Tamoe Highlands they could with
confidence repel any marching army. So distinguished was their warcraft that the
Horadrim, that ancient league of sorcerers who did battle with the Prime Evils, even
entrusted some of their most precious relics to the Rogues.
Certainly such a strong but essentially neutral force guarding the only land route
between them helped keep the peace between the Western and Eastern kingdoms.
Kashya, was leader of the Rogues into battle. She staggered back to the camp, with
volleys upon volleys of arrows singing over her head. It was a welcome she could
appreciate. Behind her undead and foul beasts bled, gurgled and died. She helped the
wounded inside, but refusing to enter safety herself, while others outside still fought.
She was a tall, proud woman, clad in a long shirt of ring mail. She glared out the open
gate, past the heavily-warded bridge, to the group of Fallen cavorting in murderous
glee. They were the lowest of all demonic beasts; red, shrunken, and implike.
"Archers!" she shouted. "Clear the bridge!"
Those on the walls seemed tireless; notch and shoot, each arrow accurate and deadly.
Again and again. Their faces were placid, almost meditative. The bows ached to find
their target.
A Fallen corpse suddenly screeched, and returned to life. Somewhere, beyond range was
a Fallen Shaman. The creatures were simple and barely even dangerous. But that crude
existence was also their strength; always fearful, barely more than beasts, but they
clung to life strongly and selfishly. Fallen could only be brought to battle at threat of
harm. And if killed, they could also be so easily brought back.
The Rogue archers seemed tireless in their efforts, but then so did the enemy appear
limitless. Driven from their monastery, slowly the Sisterhood's numbers were being
reduced by endless hordes of monsters, undead and other foul creatures. They grimaced
as they saw skeletons approach... skeletons clad in honor-red Rogue death garb. No!
This sacrilege was intolerable!
"Enchant arrows!" shouted Flavie, one of the Rogues' finest commanders. She poured
her will into the tip of her arrow, and the metal glowed red-hot. Anger turned into will,
turned into power. How dare they?! Sisters, I will avenge! For now, please return to
your rest.
A great volley launched from the encampment, and where each arrow hit, gouts of
magical flame erupted. Dry, mystically-animated bones fell apart.
It wasn't enough. A few skeletons managed to reach the river. However, as soon as
they stepped onto the bridge, the undead minion simply turned to dust. The wards still
held, no unnatural Evil could touch the camp.
Hours later, though it seemed a lifetime, the assault stopped.
"...what happened to the adventurers?" Kashya asked. Swordsmen and a necromancer
formed the rear guard. Of a few dozen hired blades who set out, there were none to
return. Those who were not killed had fled. "What, all of them?! This is intolerable!" Her
voice dropped, as she beheld the remnants of their once glorious Order. She could hate
the demon queen Andariel, but she would only blame herself for letting it fall. "This is
unforgivable...."
It was their first serious attempt at reclaiming their monastery. Within the camp was a
caravan, filled with riches destined for the East. Warriors and mercenaries were lured to
the camp with promises of glory and reward. The Rogues held them in contempt; for
these women had fought Diablo himself, and saw little that sellswords could add to their
might. However, they no longer had any choice in the matter. The Rogue Leader leaned
against an old stone wall, her only surrender to the weariness creeping into her bones.
Inch by inch, the Rogues were dying.
Evil was walking the land. Prayers did nothing. It seemed as if even the Angels, whose
existence were bound to combatting the forces of Hell, had abandoned them. This
battleground of good and evil was left to the hands of humanity.
They needed steel. They needed warriors. But most of all, they needed a miracle.
---------
What is Hell? Is it torment? Is it pain? Is it uncertainty? Then by that regards, to live is
itself is a form of Hell. By knowing others, by moving with others, we risk pain. There is
pain in not knowing. There is pain in being rejected. There is pain in being fragile and
doomed to decay.
What is Heaven? Is it peace? Is it contentment? Is it comfort neverending? Is it the joy
of seeing others long departed, of knowing others completely and being accepted
utterly? Then, this was Heaven.
This red Earth. This barren, dark and ugly world. This world devoid of all life save for
one. A boy, slight of stature, with dark hair and deep, fearful eyes.
He heard clapping. He heard congratulations. He learned to let go.
And reality broke apart.
---------
Akara, High Priestess of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye was a woman of high
learnings. Her understanding of medicine, magic and lore was unsmatched in the
Westmarch, save by the ancient Horadric Order. From pools of knowledge from east and
west did she dip her curiousity into. She meditated in front of her tent, amongst her
tarnished collection of magical items and potions being brewed.
She gasped, and opened her eyes.
Brightness filled her world. Something clad in shining plate mail, with glowing ribbonlike
wings, hovered in front of her.
The words etched into her very soul. Such purity, such ancient power incomprehensible.
"Yes, I see..." she whispered.öI See it!"
The priestess awoke and hurriedly put on her thicker robes. Outside her purple tent it
was still drizzling. Her Rogues, for lack of a better term, were moping. The attack was
disastrous, and having to face their former friends in combat hit badly to morale. No
matter how corrupted they were, these were the faces they had laughed with, dined
with, and sworn to eternal sisterhood to.
Where was Kashya? The older woman found her, as expected, in the medical tent. The
Rogue leader sat slumping on a crate, her long red hair falling matted in front of her
face. She looked up at Akara's approach. Her eyes were dry, but ringed with fatigue.
"I have been given a vision." the priestess said.
"Where was your vision when we were being cut asunder by the corrupted, the undead,
the GOATMEN?!" Kashya snarled. She immediately regretted it, however. The Priestess
was the closest thing to a mother she ever had. She looked away, but the only other
thing to see was the pain of her wounded Sisters. She closed her eyes and breathed
out. "F-forgive me, Akara. I did not know what I was saying."
"It is perfectly understandable, dear. But now we must act, swiftly or all is lost. Demonic
forces are aswarm in the land, and the Heavens call for balance. We must make haste
to the Cairn Stones, where we shall find aid."
Kasha frowned. "That's in the Cold Plains. I am certain that there are corrupted Rogues
about." She looked around, the only ones conscious there were she and the High
Priestess. "We are hardly in any condition to launch an attack, least of all against
Rakanishu."
"If the Fallen, and all their devilkin could be said to worship any creature, it would be
Rakanishu." Akara agreed with a nod. "Even the Prime Evils, they merely fear." She
looked up and put a hand to her chin. "Odd, indeed. The Fallen exhibit a rudimentary
culture, for all their tiny minds. Their ceremonies and symbolism seem to bridge the gap
between what it is to be an unthinking animal and a sapient creature."
"Akara, the Cairn Stones, please." The Rogue leader sighed. "I only need to know enough
about the Fallen to kill them."
The older woman switched back to her placid expression, what she hoped was projected
reassuring knowledge, but merely made her seem only seem condescending. Or to the
uncharitable, always half-asleep.
"The Cairn Stones are magic, ancient magic. Magic to warp space and time, the safer
result of that experimentation is in our Town Portals and the Waypoints."
"Do you know what sort of aid we can expect coming out from the standing stones?"
The priestess shook her head. "Sadly, I was uninformed. It is enough that the Eye could
see past the murk of Evil's shadow. We must go and seize it, protect it; the fate of the
world may depend upon it."
"For weeks, your meditations showed nothing. And now, at the wake of our greatest
defeat since being driven out of our homes? Akara, you must realize, this could very well
finish us off!"
"I... see..."
Anguish shone upon her face. "It is not that I do not trust you, Priestess... but we deal
here with Andariel, the Maiden of Pain, a Lesser Evil, true but potent nonetheless. Her
powers are vast. I cannot send my Rogues out to die. I cannot... enough have been
lost! We cannot go off again, not yet, not so soon..."
The slightest of frowns on passed across Akara's countenance. "Do you believe even I
am at the verge of corruption?"
"Gods! No! No, Akara, no I do not mean THAT!"
"You are wise to be cautious, my child. None of us can stand immune to Evil's influence."
"But then, do you say, I am afraid...? My life is sworn to vanquishing evil! To the
protection of our Monastery! I shirk from nothing, Akara!"
"I do not mean that, either." The high priestess folded her arms in a prayerful gesture.
"Take care that in holding onto what you have, you refuse to accept that which is
freely given. Hold on too tightly, and you only strangle what you hold dear."
"All right. I will go. Let me gather a squad of archers, and lend me a scroll of town
portal." She slapped her bare thighs and stood up. ôThis had best not be a foolÆs errand.
Akara shook her head sadly. It was clear that this was a task only taken at sufferance.
It was accepted not for the hope it might give, but for the chance to kill some more. "I
am afraid that will not do. I must come with you."
The younger woman's refusal was vehement. It was too risky, she explained. The
Sisterhood needed her. The wards protecting the camp relied upon her. The wounded
relied upon her healing arts and her potions.
"I know you do not believe I have the capacity to lead the Rogues into war. If you
cannot believe my vision then believe in me.ö For a second, her eyes flashed a bright
purple, a shade higher than that of her robes. Her arts and he philosophies might have
been geared towards the defensive, but mistake not the power there. "At the very
least, I can render us unseen, and avoid needless conflict."
--
They set out towards the Cold Plains, past the Blood Moor. The ground was soaked from
the rain, spongy and difficult to move through. The rain helped their stealth. There were
monsters about, but like most living creatures loathed the icy rain. The undead and the
hungriest of beasts had no mind to discomfort however.
Kashya, Akara and three archers made it through with minimal fighting. Zombies and Quill
Rats unlucky enough to bump into their misty field were quickly dealt with.
Unfortunately, the magics used for their invisibility were impossible for large groups, such
as that which assaulted the corrupted Monastery. If even such a force failed, then any
smaller group was sure to meet destruction.
The Rogues took cover behind a clump of trees. Despite the rain, a large number of
Fallen were milling around the Cairn Stones. Bishibosh, a Fallen with green skin, slightly
larger than the others, spoke in rapid chittering nonsense. The other Fallen seemed to
understand however, as now and then they would screech as if in fervor and then spit
out his name.
"They are crude creatures..." Akara said."But even they can feel the importance of what
is to happen."
"Why not the stronger monsters?" asked Abhaya, one of the Rogues. The tip of her
ready arrow glowing a faint blue.
"If what Akara saw is correct, then surely such an event must be hidden from the
Great Evil that would most be harmed from it." Unlike the others, Kashya carried a
bundle of javelins. It might not have the range or speed of an arrow, but the heft of
wood was easier to infuse magic into. She squinted at Rakanishu, and his chipped
scimitar. Though the monster had no shield, he could take more than a few arrows.
"Be quick." the High Priestess whisperted. "The event is at hand."
The Cairn Stones; tall, standing massifs of strange graystone began to hum. Runes
etched into them flared a bright blue. The air seemed to stiffen and small sparks
flickered between the boulders. A few Fallen screeched in pain, as they were hit by
several small shocks. Rakanishu, being a creature of lightning himself, cavorted in joy.
A glimmering yellow portal formed at the center of the stone formation.
"Now!" Kashya yelled, surging friom cover. She rapidly hurled a succession of javelins at
Rakanishu. The first two missed. The third impaled him right on the chest. Rakanishu
screamed. Blod spurted out, and in the air burned, becoming silvery. Droplets coalesced
and turned into charged bolts of lightning. Five sharp threads of electricity spun through
the air, cleaving anything in their path.
Kashya threw another javelin, this one leaving green trails of poison behind it. It hit
Rakanishu very close to the earlier javelin. More blood gouted out from the monster's
body, and he seemed to explode into shards of lightning.
The Rogues ducked as trees around them were shorn of branches. The Fallen, seeing
the damage to their hero, let out a feral yell and charged. Cooly, the archers picked
them off as they approached. Akara begam to mumble something, and moved her hands
in front of her face. Finishing, she opened her palms outwards and a grand fireball shot
out. Screams and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Rakanishu fled, still bleeding, still sending out an occasional charged bolt even as his
monstrous healing worked feverishly. The portal energy was getting stronger, and it was
somehow... repulsive to him. He screeched something incomprehensible, and warily the
Fallen also retreated.
With one final burst of energy the portal disgorged something... three things. It flashed
out of existence, and all was silent once more.
The Rogues approached, but ever watchful. Upon seeing what mysterious aid from
beyond was given them, they relaxed a fraction. However, they were also perplexed.
There on the cold, wet ground were three naked and unconscious children. Two girls
with unnatural hair, one with deep orange-red and the other an unnaturally pale shade
of blue. The third was a boy, thin and black-haired.
"Children?!" Kashya yelled. "We stand upon the brink of destruction, and we are given
children?! This is worse than no assistance at all!"
Akara could not hide her own disappointment. However, mysterious indeed were the
ways of Heaven. If one could not trust those Above to combat the legions Below, then
who else was there to look to? She had to hope there was more to this event than what
meets the mortal eyes. "Indeed, they are children. That only means we must hurry
before they come to harm."
She reached into her belt and took out a bound tome of dyed blue leather. She opened
it and tapped a page, while murmuring a unique incantation. Instantly a glowing blue
portal flashed into being in front of her.
"Quickly now. This Town Portal will not remain active for long. We must go before our
magical defenses are breached." The Rogues hurried to comply, each taking a child. The
Town Portal allowed a warping of space and time between two points. It might allow
chasing monsters to get to the Encampment as easily as it would transport them. Akara
had not yet finished setting up the wards that would make it one-way for all but
those who cast it.
Kashya said nothing, but the accusing glare she gave the Priestess was enough. Akara
shook her head. Unfortunately, she had no answers to give.
--------------
Yeeeah, the Children fought Angels before. Now let's see how they face up to Demons.
^_^
Guess what classes I'm assigning to them.
As I said above, the crossovers I like best are so opposite and so WTF, that it actually FORCES the writer to think a little deeper when writing, more than just the thought of cool scenes and pwnage. I tried a little about Bleach/history in this forum (abandoned, ack) but one of the earlier thoughts I had before deciding on Shinji and Warhammer40k was.... Robotech/DnD (specifically, Icewind Dale II). Like the fic I'm going with now, it would have started with an ungodly long prologue, then end up retelling the story we've already seen.
Yes, dammit, it would have -worked-. ^_~
