Elements of Disharmony part 8 Lich

>The thunderous crash of your undead horde ripping through the Everfree is enough to alert every animal for a hundred miles.
>Subtlety was unneeded when you had a Necromantic hammer to smash through with.
>Such was something the now-thralled Eldar had learned the hard way.
>Your entire march had been harrowed by Eldar Rangers who thought that a quick round through your head would end this problem.
>Problem was, that you had nothing of any real importance up there anymore.
>The same problem had come to light when they attempted to pick off your minions.
>Even the Ghouls shrugged off the fatal wounds as though it was nothing.
>And while the Eldar taught you of their tactics, of careful application of force, you taught them of the grave.
>Most of the Rangers knew to stay down wind.
>The smell alone dissuaded a few foolish souls.
>The Ghouls fell upon them with contemptuous ease, and a few even crawled along the forest floor with your skeletal Equine footmen.
>The majority of the skilled survivors knew to cover their tracks, even if the enemy was mostly mindless.
>They were the only ones to survive being ripped apart by the undead kin of theirs who hunted for them.
>Out of the few that came into Your forest, only a select few who were truly skilled managed to escape.
>Most of them did not expect for darkness to so easily cloak the drooling forms of the Ghouls.
>Most of them did not factor in that being down wind made them ignorant to the smell of stalking hunters.
>Most of them stood within your ranks, brothers in death now.
>And so onwards you marched, noticing occasionally the familiar feeling of being watched, as you marched your horde towards Ponyville.

>Ah, yes, you could see the sky through the tree’s now.
>Or, well, you knew it was there.
>The Gravelord was killing all the light that attempted to shine upon your army.
>Darkness, utter and total, a massive blob that stopped all sight.
>It got better further out from the center you got, but still…
>Bang up job.
>But, that aside, you now found yourself looking, bemused, out upon Ponyville.
>The Eldar had dug in, weapons platforms facing the tree line and a few massive, towering constructs high above the linemen.
>You stroll casually from the trees, and look out upon the Eldar.
>This was going to be fun, you could already tell.
>They were no fools, they had overlapping fields of fire and had put the expendable soldiery at the front.
>Rotate the fresh recruits out as the battle goes on, you assumed.
>You extend a hand, and the sounds of rustling underbrush reply.
>As one a massive wall of skeletal Equines shuffles from the brush.
>Their hooves were long gone, leaving only sharp, thin legs.
>They skittered like insects as they moved, rather than galloped, but their speed was not diminished in the slightest.
>They were crouched close to the ground, and chattered and clinked.
>And as the Eldar prepared to receive the charge, you changed the game.
>As your army began to appear from within the forest, thousands upon hundreds of thousands of small, green eyes glared outwards.
>The hulking forms of Skeletal Dragons poked their heads out of the underbrush from high above your horde.
>Chimera’s slowly pulled into position behind your Ponies.
>It was Mid-Day in Ponyville, and night was falling, the darkness choking out the light.

>A wretched shriek from the undead signaled the beginning of the battle
>As one, the ponies surged like a great sea towards the Eldar, sprinting on all fours.
>Without their hooves, they could not gallop, but they instead moved like insects to make up for this.
>Sharp, thin bones punched into the dirt, tearing it up with little pot-marks.
>A shimmering field slammed into the ponies like a horizontal slash of a knife.
>It only served to chip and annoy the undead as they raced towards their targets.
>There was no flesh for the Shiruken Catapults to rend to mush, really.
>With the only sound being the continued firing of Shiruken Catapults and the chattering of bones, the Ponies slammed into the Eldar.
>The ponies could not hold weapons like the Eldar Ghouls, or a human skeleton could.
>They came pre-equipped however with deadly spikes, however.
>The ponies leaped upon the Eldar, sinking their legs into the Eldar.
>The sound of rending flesh was stifled by screams as the Ponies ran in place, rapidly bringing their legs in, then back out.
>They worked like pistons, latching two legs into their target and constantly stabbing with the others.
>It was bloody, gruesome work.
>And the Eldar line began to turn into bastions of fire-power, where the weapon platforms nearest the titanic machines still stood.
>The Ponies were being destroyed, however slowly, and the Wraithguards and the few Wraithlords were the center of resistence.
>There is another shriek, and another wave begins its advance.
>Chimera’s thunder through the thinning Pony charge, stabbing and slashing as they maul the defenders.
>The darkness grows thicker, and you still have yet to suffer harassment.

>You stand, open, on the front lines, and the Eldar have yet to dispatch a strike team.
>You were disappointed.
“You fight well, Eldar,”
>Your voice echoes from everywhere and no where, transmitted through the shadows.
“But not well enough. Your limbs will grow tired, your reactions will become sluggish. You will not survive forever. And when you do fall..”
>On que, Shiruken fire rains out from the forest…
>… Upon the defenders.
>Your Ghouls heft their weapons, taking aim, and open fire.
>The Seers under your dominion retain some vestige of intellect, and command their fallen brothers as they did in life.
>They strategically move into the Eldars defensive lines, joined by the reanimating remains of the slain.
>Fire Platforms are re-manned and turned upon the defenders.
>D-Cannons, powerful Eldar weapons, open fire upon the living.
>The casualties are mounting when the Eldar make their real move.
>The pockets of resistance begin to push back, as a spear-point of Eldar howling Banshees and Striking Scorpions charging through your sea of the dead.
>Banshee’s effortlessly dancing around the Ponies, who, for all their unthinking savagery, are no true match.
>Even the monstrous Chimera’s cannot halt their attack.
>Wraithguard descend upon the Ghoul-manned weapons batteries, eager to wrest them out of your control.
>Now, you can’t be having that.
>It was time to show these fools who they were dealing with.
>The time was 14:22 in the Afternoon, but it grew as dark as if it was Midnight under a starless and moonless sky.
>The thunder of crashing footfalls announced something entering the fray.

>Those Eldar far enough back to still see clearly, watched as a bolt of orange energy skewered and crippled a Wraithlord.
>Explosions racked its body as it tried to regain control, but a second blast through the stomach stopped all resistence.
>A wing of Dragons fly from the darkness, and spin in the air, coming about to rain desolation upon the Eldar once more.
>To the credit of the Eldar, they had a plan for this.
>That would be the Warp Spiders who just appeared all around you.
>You wait as they level their Mandiblasters upon you.
>You hear the whine as they power up their Warp packs, ready to jump after they destroy you.
>You also hear the sound of them being cut in half as Nito slices two of them in half with a single slash.
>They’re not focused on you any longer now, instead, the mass of skeletons wrapped in a shawl of darkness and screaming faces.
“Running would be very highly advised.”
>Your suggestion goes unheeded as they open fire.
>The Gravelord creaks and groans, they most likely think from their weapons effectiveness.
>You know well enough what is coming.
>With a shriek from beyond the grave, a massive surge of inky energy ripples outwards, blasting the Warp Spiders in every direction.
“I shall leave you to get better aquainted with them, Gravelord. I have business to attend to.”
>You don’t even really have to exert yourself to step through the shadows.
>So dark is it, that you can appear almost anywhere.
>And you choose to appear in the center of town, in the middle of the Warlocks guiding the defense.
”Good afternoon, and evening, Gentlemen.”
>You raise your hands, a Staff appearing in your waiting grip.

>You whip your staff up as a blade flies towards you.
>You cackle as the Seers and Warlocks turn upon you, the various aspect warriors raising their weapons.
“No no, please, don’t hurt me. I am but a wandering mage, you see.”
>You raise your palm, and call upon the energies of the distant sea.
>A powerful concussive burst blasts away numerous assorted Eldar, sending them flying to the ground.
>A roaring blade screams into your side, and you quickly use your remaining energy to conjure an illusion.
>You fade into the darkness as your puppet buckles under the blow.
>It falls to its knees, before screaming towards the sky.
>Green flames erupt from the chest, spewing forth in a gout of emerald fire from the skull.
>You emerge as the Eldar begin to lower their guard.
>”That.. That, was what ki-“
>The Banshee in question who spoke does not finish his sentence as a blade of Nether energy cuts the head from his neck.
“I’m sorry, were you expecting me to be so straight forwards?”
>You spin, tossing your staff to your right hand, and extend it infront of you one-handed.
>The tip becomes the focal point for a mass of red and black energies, writhing and churning.
>With a mental command, it rips into a portal from which a massive beast surges out of.
>It was reptilian in appearance, and undead beyond a doubt.
>Lightning lanced off of its form as it charged, screeching a fearsome cry for blood.
>You simply snicker as the few Eldar in its path dive aside, horrified by the electrified foe barreling at them, as if called from the warp its self.
“What’s that, little ones? Afraid of a little zombie?”
>”Stop scrambling around and Open Fire!”
>That’s about when they got their shit together.

>Shots richochet off of your shadowshield, a black aura you raise between yourself and the offending Eldar.
>Already, Howling Banshee's are upon you, swinging wildly to try and score a hit.
>You are fragile by comparison, and rather than chance a hit, you decide to keep from holding back.
>It was almost time to show your hand totally.
>You let a powerful wash of flame flash forth from your open palm as you point your staff towards the bracing Eldar councel.
>You slink into the darkness, melting into nothingness as a massive fireball leaps from your staff.
>The Seers block it with a telekinetic shield, a thick oily smoke splashing outwards from it.
>You emerge across from them, and raise your staff to the sky.
>Energy condenses around it, as you level the head.
>With a scream, a surge of spirits explode from the shadows, rising from the ground.
>Ghosts of the slain.
>Ghosts of those who have suffered at Eldar hands.
>You're frankly a little surprised at how many answer your beacon.
>Thousands of incorporeal hands grab for the Eldar, as they slash wildly, trying to get the phantoms away.
>Raking swipes ignore the flesh and scratch at the soul as a Seer is pulled down, before his spirit is ripped from his body and dragged to the Nether.
>Even the powerful soulstone could not stop it from being rip right from the body prior to death by so many vengeful hands.
>You guffaw at the sheer scale of hell the Seers have whipped up for themselves.
>If they were any greater fiends, you might be out of a job.
>As a friend many ages ago had put it;
>"Evil Overlordin' Ain't Easy."
>Wisdom.
>Flames fill your free hand as you charge into the fray, and unleash a gout at your enemies.
>You spin and level your staff as the short blast flares, and slam the butt into the ground.
>A massive, earthen hand explodes and grabs for anything living, wrapping its fingers around one of the Seers.
>You turn to finish the rest off, when Lightning tears through the darkness.
>True pain, the first you've known sense your battle with Mollestia, fills your mind.
>Impossible.
>But it is true.
>You scream out in anger as a hole is torn in the darkness.
>For a brief moment, it remains, a tunnel where the light of the mid-day sun can be seen.
>All too swiftly, however, tendrils and writhing masses begin to knit together the scar.
>The unnatural darkness, the Eldar quickly realized, was very much so alive.
>Your hand had been shown.
>You could afford no more precision, in favor of hiding your secrets.
>You still had one ace in the hole however...
>You rise, swiping at your enemis with a burning staff, catching an Eldar in the helmet.
>A blade slashes into your rib-cage, breaking multiple ribs.
>You were out numbered by powerful enemies.
>Time to stack the odds in your favor.
"Restless Dead Arise!"
>You scream out in the Black Language, the unknowable sounds intended only for the dead.
>The Eldar, to their credit, survive.
>You remidy this when the recently slain Eldar scramble to their feet, howling as green fire suffuses their bodies.
>The battle becomes all the more hectic for it
>A fallen Eldar Guardian shoves you to the side, taking a lance of lightning through the Stomach.
>The Seers had learned that melee weapons were useless, and were resorting on using their flashes of light to rip apart the nether-manifested darkness.
>You fade from reality and stand on the other side, readying a surprise.
>The Eldar have weakened the grip of darkness in this area, they think they are winning.
>They can actually feel the suns light.
>With a scream, power flooding your form, you call to the Nether all around you.
>The shadow-world responds, and grips you tightly.
>With a spell meant to allow for trans-planar movement, you rend aside the walls of reality.
>The Eldar look to you, the darkness growing.
>They gaze upon the shadows of a world not meant for mortal eyes.
>And as they do, the shadows gaze back, looking hungrily upon them.
"Let the Feast of Souls begin!"
>You raise your hands to the air in a dramatic sweep, and on que, creatures from the nightmares of madmen spring forth.
>Comprised of the shadows, bound by life-force and filled with your purpose, these fiendish shadow-creatures move with an impossible gait.
>They more closely resemble Daemons than they do mortal creatures.
>But the relations stop at the simple nature of their place as outsiders.
>Where the Daemons are creatures of emotion, these are manifestations of one thing, and one thing alone.
>Evil.
>They were the darkness that tainted Nightmare Moon.
>They were the hate that created war.
>Where the Warp was of creation and destruction, pure chaos, these were entities of total stillness.
>They were your agents of Death.
>And they exist solely to cease.

>Lightning surges towards you.
>The darkness literally screams in pain at the combined barrage.
>You feel something akin to when you were forced to watch Molestia harm your friends.
>The Darkness pools around your feet, hugging close to you.
>The wraiths scramble away, afraid of the light.
>You raise your staff, and in a surge of mana, a turquoise shield flashes into existence.
>The Lightning slams into it, cracking the shield, but it holds.
>With a shove, you send it flying at the Eldar, the shield turning into a concussive blast of air.
>The wraiths move in.
>They attack from all sides.
>As an Eldar launches Warp Lightning, they skitter and fade into smoke, reappearing elsewhere in the all-consuming darkness.
>You walk towards the Eldar, launching a claw of darkness at one of them.
>With a yell, the Eldar in question launches a bolt of Lightning at it, piercing the shadows and banishing them.
>You bombard him with a trio of ice shards, the first of which nails his leg, but the other two crash against his Kineshield.
>You march inexorably forwards, your eyes burning with a warmthless flame.
>You watch as an Eldar spears a wraith through with a bolt.
>The spirit screams as its essence is ripped apart.
>The Eldar spins in time to catch another with a sword blow, before a surge of lightning ends it as well.
>The pained screams of the wraith dying do not give your still heart any pleasure.
>On the other hand…
>A wraith grabs the offending Eldar by the should and spins him around.
>With a strike of its claws, the helmet flies from the Eldars face.
>The wraith sinks its blades into the Eldars shoulds, and puts its feet on the aliens waist.

>With a screech, the wraith locks its mouth around the Seers lips.
>The seer twitches, screaming for a few moments.
>He flails around ineffectually for a few more moments, before gouts of witchfire begin to burn through his armor and robes.
>That scene, on the other hand, brings you great satisfaction.
>You whip your staff up, a black blade slicing forth.
>You smile as the Eldar attempts to negate it with a bolt of Lightning.
>The Doom Blade bisects the Seers, killing him instantly.
>You reach a hand out, and your shadow leaps forwards.
>The body twitched as you rip its mind apart, searching for information.
>You are broken from your revery by the sound of a steel blade slowly clacking against your ribcage.
>You look up, and find that a pair of wraiths hang on you, nuzzling your form and gently caressing you.
>You lay your head on one as you return to your work, the desperate cries of the Eldar that remain drowned out by the rising moans of the undead.
>You find what you need in the Eldar’s last thoughts, and with a gentle shift, the wraiths release you and follow closely behind.
>You watch as wraiths drag the dead and dieing through the streets, reveling in their pain.
>The peace of the grave was denied tonight in Ponyville, at the sunset hours.
>A darkness unlike any other settles over Equestria, and you absent mindedly notice that, not long ago, this had been your plan for your own version of Equestria.
>Perhapse, once this was over, you could live out your dreams of wading through a sea of pony bones.
>Perhapse, but you are unsure you could bring yourself to enjoy killing the doppelgangers of your friends.

>With a wave of your hand, you open the door to Twilights Library.
>Within, a small crowd of Nether wraiths wait, stalking the lightless hallways and rooms.
>You make a motion, and the equine bust is tossed across the room by a wraith.
>You make no other commands, the wraiths already act.
>A specific corpse of a Warp Spider is produced, and lain upon the table.
>A glowing soulstone is the only source of light, even then, it illuminates nothing save its own flickering self.
>Your bony fingers dig the small gem out, wrenching it from the Eldar corpse.
“Hello, my dear.”
>Your shadow digs in to the gem, the light flashing and strobing.
“Please, I am not here to harm you. I only wish..”
>You produce a long knife, as the armor is peeled away from the body.
>Blood oozes forth as you dig into the Eldar, and begin the process of flensing the body.
“… To help.”


>You turn back to the body, as the shroud moves away, Shermanator leaving.
“She was a young girl. Much like you, my dear.”
>It had taken some coaxing but over the course of an hour you had nearly fully flayed the corpse completely, revealing the muscle and bone beneath.
“No no, you see…”
>You pause, listening to a voice that does not speak.
>You can’t hear the words, but you feel them.
“She died. Long ago.”
>You can feel accusation in the soul, as if to condemn you.
“Now, listen here, I will not take that tone. Remember who you are dealing with.”
>The feeling passes, as you look over your work.
>With a motion, the ribcage is wedged open by shadowy claws, the heart and lungs removed long ago.
>You shove the soulstone into the cavity, up into the base of the esophagus, and allow the meaty shell to close.
>The process was done.
>You had flayed the last of her Eldar features from her body.
“Now, my dear, I am going to make you an offer.”
>The body slowly moves, the lidless eyes turning lazily towards you.
“You died in the service of your craftworld. Now, I am giving you a chance to live again, your duties done.”
>Runes engrave themselves in the floor, as dark magic begins to flow from your hands.
>The shadows close around the skinless corpse, which bucks and convulses.
>A psyching scream of pain rings out.
>The Warp Spider’s soul was filled with hate, with rage, with malice.
>It did not take much to twist and corrupt it, turning it to your ends.
>It had already done most of the work its self.

>The corpse falls still, the runes turning to scourchmarks on the floor, marking out an intricate pentagram.
>It twitches, before slowly rising, leaving a bloody smear on the table.
>Its eyes glow with a green energy, its feet landing gracefully on the floor.
>”What…”
>Its voice rattles and is grating, as a green ooze begins to slowly seep from its muscles.
>It kneels before you, turning its eyes down-wards, its spittle landing on the wooden floor.
>The corrosive bile burns the wood where it drips, a lack of lips keeping the undead creature from ceasing the flow.
>”… Is thine bidding, my master?”
>You are pleased with your work.
“Go, dance through the shadows of this world, and prepare to strike on my command.”
>Wordlessly, the fallen Eldar melts away, leaving a pool of blood where it knelt.
>It was time to finish this game.
>The Farseer had played well, but for all his abilities, for all his skill…
>He never stood a chance.
>You had more important things to do than kill him.
>All you needed was Twilight Sparkle, and his death was assured.
>That, would be the fun part.
>You step from the Library, the sound of the bust being replaces on the bloody pedistool making a mix between a ‘Thunk’ and a ‘Squelch’.
>It was a beautiful night.
>Tonight, you ended this, and got what you came for.