Elements of Disharmony part 7

>You are Anonymous the Lich
>It had been a whole day sense you saved Shermanator from his conflict with Discord.
>Your home is safe, for now.
>But you have things to do.
>Events have been set in motion upon the next world that you shall target.
>Subtle things, things no one would think twice about.
>You do not tell Shermanator about just what is going on there.
>You are enjoying the show, however.
>A puppet master has taken over by turning Celestia into a willing servant.
>Impressive, but fragile.
>You watched, carefully, from the shadows.
>You never stepped out of the Nether.
>There was too much uncertain.
>Too many factors at risk.
>Another day passed.
>You still watched.
>Studied.
>And as you did, you realized something.
>A glaring fault in your plans.
>It was impossible, that you had lost the game before it had even begun.
>Unthinkable.
>But, it was so.
>You had no chance to turn Sorcerer’s mind around, and make him an ally.
>No chance to deceive him or earn his trust.
>It was too late.
>He was no longer among the living of Equestria.
>You want to rage.
>You want to rip apart this world, bring by brick for denying you what you so desire.
>Above that, above everything, however, you want to destroy that accursed Elf.
>He was directly at fault for what has happened.
>You return from the nether of this world, and emerge into your tower.
>Surprisingly, Shermanator has fallen asleep in your throne.
>You cannot muster the fucks to give over having your throne taken up, the familiarity of your homeland enough to ease your anger.
>You simply walk downstairs and sit in the parlor, waiting.
>Thinking.
>You would not accept defeat.

>You knew there was a way to get back the Sorcerer, but how…
>Now that was the question.
>You idly spin your hand in circles, rotating at the wrist around and around.
>How could you possibly set the situation in your favor?
>There were few options open.
>Surgical removal of the offending parties would be difficult.
>Retrieval of the target would be impossible while the Elves still held control over Celestia and Luna.
>You could not act directly-
>Wait.
>Act directly…
>Of course.
>The Elves had taken over, occupying Equestria.
>Was it not your place, as a creature of Equestria, to rise against them?
>Was it not your duty as but a humble creature of the Everfree to repel the invaders?
>Lies and schemes swirl within your mind.
>You could gain what you needed.
>You knew how to get access to the Sorcerer, and best of all, how to gain his support.
>Yes, it seemed like Equestria was due for an undead apocalypse.
>You would pave your way to the heart of this pesky little problem and rip it out like the tumor it was.
>You feel a malicious joy rising in your breast.
>The shadows across Equestria writhe, sensing your joy and excitement.
>Yes, this would do nicely.
>You would play the part of Equestria revolting.
>You would be the ‘Hero’ that Equestria needed.
>You would suffer not these children to muddle your plans.
>The shadows eagerly grasp for your form, cloaking you in their tender embrace.
>The very nature of the nether pulls you into its realm, and from there you step sideways through reality.
>You could not step foot in reality, that would land too much of a warning.
>You would have to watch and wait, for now.

>A few more days pass.
>The situation is deteriorating quickly.
>The Eldar, as you have learned, are a cruel people.
>They do not tolerate any interference from the ponies, even the most minute.
>In some respects, you enjoy this pain and suffering.
>The mortal game of crying out against fate, the story of a thousand voices struggling for perchase…
>It never gets old.
>But you can’t seem to enjoy it, knowing that such ponies are almost copies of your own friends.
>You are reminded of colgate.
>And you can wait no longer.
>The time has come for action.
>Every breath these mortal worms take is an insult to your magesty.
>They dare inflict pain upon innocent ponies?
>They shall receive a thousand fold the emotional and physical distress they cause.
>You decide to make your purpose known.
>From a realm outside of reality, untouched by this worlds ‘Warp’, the empyrean realm as it is called.
>You were outside of any of their laws and powers, fortunate given you did not use the ‘Warp’ to cast your spells.
>You watch from the shadows, a wraith on the peripherals of vision, stalking.
>Waiting.
>Acting brashly would get you nowhere.
>But you needed to act.
>It was then that fate cast the die.
>You stalked through the nether of this world, when a spark of life flashed in the distant Everfree.
>You spirit yourself through the shadows as if by teleportation, and step foot into this alien world for the first time.
>You are perched high upon a tree branch, and watch as a small, blue pony gallops away, heart filled with fright.
>You had allowed Shermanator to harass her in another world.
>You would not allow further harm to come to her.

>You hear a scream, and a tall, armored figure flies from the undergrowth, pouncing after the pony.
>It lifts its blade high, ready to cut the pony in half.
>With a word of power, you cause a concussive force to knock the pony away, the blade missing.
>She struggles to escape, as the Eldar close around her.
>Four wielding guns, one wielding a pistol and a double-sided blade, and another with two swords.
>They all circle the pony, as the Banshee prepares to finish it.
>With a ‘clack, you step from your branch and crash into the ground.
>They wheel around leveling their weapons upon you.
>You rise, your gaze hidden behind your hood.
>”Begone, creature, or we shall…”
>The one with the double-sided sword pauses, his face hidden behind his helmet.
“I am afraid not, Eldar. You see, you have attempted to kill one of my ponies.”
>You look up, blazing witchfires burning within your eyesockets.
“And I very much so doubt you will have much of anything to do about my crushing of your lives.”
>The scene explodes into action in but a heart-beat.
>Shiruken catapults lance out shimmering stars small as sand.
>The Banshee leaps at you, screaming.
>You cannot muster any fucks to give.
>You wave a hand, black whisps clinging to your fingers.
>There is a scream from below, as a skeletal hand reaches upwards, exploding through the soil and grabbing the Banshees leg, tripping her.
>The leader raises his hand, lightning surging along his form.
>You call upon the mana of this plane and with a mental incantation and a few finger movements, there is a blue mist that clings to your opponents hands.

“Your spell has been rendered ineffectual.”
>You casually walk closer as more and more hands grope and drag the Banshee down, her swords discarded from a few improperly timed attacks.
“It was, however, very pretty. I applaud you for that.”
>The others are becoming an annoyance.
>Casually, you grip the Banshee’s helmet.
“Tell me, Child, of your people.”
>Blue mana condenses around your hand, a dark aura surrounding you.
>The Banshee screams again as you rip into her mind, stealing everything you need to know, and discarding the rest.
>Exhausted, she drops to the ground, and is accepted into the earth by countless hands, the soil parting for her.
>Guardians, and a Warlock.
>You turn to them.
”I believe I have had enough of your pesky attacks.”
>To accent your point, a rib shatters and bone fragments fall upon the ground.
>You were taking some serious damage, even if nearly all of their attacks missed anything.
>You raise a hand, and point it at the first Guardian.
>From your palm springs a torrent of flames, immolating the poor fool.
>He screams as the fire consumes him, falling to the ground writhing.
>Relentlessly, you walk closer to the Warlock.
>One of the brave souls decides to try and bash you with her weapon, seeing the shooting having no effect.
>You were uninterested in getting your head spun around, and decide to get some assistance.
>There is a pulse of power, then a flash, before Shermanator stumbles awkwardly from his sudden shift from planes.
>The Eldar, unable to account for the pissed off human, collides with him, and they both tumble to the ground.
“Take care of that pest, would you, Shermanator?”
>You don’t listen for an answer as the Warlock closes, the other Warriors rushing to his aid.

>The Warlock slashes at you, and you move to dodge, but he counters far quicker than you expected.
>Your right arm flies off, clattering against the ground.
>Alright.
>Time to test something.
>Blue mists flow from your remaining hand, as you cast a vision of the future into your enemies head.
>You dip to the left, and he moves to intercept, before slashing back to the right.
>He was a chronomancer, as well as a combat mage.
>This would be annoying.
>You raise your remaining hand, and call upon your shadow.
>Your actions say you are going to cast a spell.
>The Eldar reacts by raising a telekinetic shield.
>Your shadow, thusfar ignored, leaps up, splashing through the shield and enveloping the Eldar.
>He tries to scream, but you put a skeletal hand against his mouth as his soulstone is ripped from him.
“No words, no thoughts. Only my will.”
>He falls silent, and the shadow sinks into his armor.
>His muscles spasm, before he lets out a low moan of pain.
>Blood begins to run from the cracks in his armor, as he turns around.
>The Guardians look onwards in horror, uncertain of what they have seen.
“Kill them.”
>With a feral howl, the Warlock leaps at the warriors, slashing madly.
>Warp energy boils off of him wildly as he uses his innate abilities with only a basic understanding of his power.
>You watch as he carves into his once-allies, who let panic take hold and try to take down their insane commander.
>You simply laugh at their peril, the mortal drama unfolding before you so splendidly.
“Oh, oh yes…”
>You turn back to Shermanator as he lands a thunderous round-house the the last remaining Eldar, sending her flying to the ground.

>You slowly stalk towards the remaining Eldar, Shermanator wiping blood from his mouth.
>The Eldar squirms under your gaze, trying to drag herself backwards.
>Your haunting laugher is mocks her feeble attempts
>She looks desperately around, searching for something, anything.
>Shermanator grabs her by the neck, lifting the battered creature up.
>"T.. There are more.. Of us coming."
>Her voice is seized with fear, choking the words as they come out.
"I am counting on it, little one."
>You rip her helmet off, and she meets your emerald flames.
>Purple blood ends in bluish crystals around her mouth, a long streak of blood running down her face.
>"I.. I will tell you n-n-nothing."
>You sigh, and gently run a finger down the side of her lithe face.
"Poor child. So eager to die for something, or in honor."
>You laugh, the whisper echoing through the forest.
"No, you will not talk. You will scream. You will scream until your lungs burst, and the worms consume you."
>You draw back your hood.
"Drop her."
>Shermanator lets her fall, her broken leg sticking out at a wrong angle.
>She screams, as you said, but stifles it quickly.
>Her eyes widen as she watches her allies, other Eldar Guardians, stagger and rise.
>You leave her to the ghouls.
"Come, Sherman. We have work to do."
>He grunts, and follows, not sparing the Eldar a second glance.
>At first, it is a cry of anguish, of horror.
>Then, it turns to fear, as the Ghouls begin to rip her armor off.
>Finally, the sounds more distant, they become sheiks of pain, before being cut harshly off.

>”What was that about?”
>Finally, after fifteen minuets, Shermanator speaks up.
>You refrain from answering immediately.
>Truth be told, you cannot answer immediately.
>You are too consumed with your plans, your prospective actions, to really focus on him
“I watched them as they chased down a…”
>A friend?
>You could not reveal your guilty conscience at feeling the need to act
“… An innocent pony, and attempted to kill it.”
>He looks at you sideways
>”You know, you can be pretty creepy sometimes.”
>You give him a sideways glance.
“That would often be the feeling one gets when speaking to an undead skeleton.”
>He nods
>”True, I guess. So, where are we headed?”
>You don’t bother answering.
>He will see soon enough.
>You enter into a clearing, a cliff in the distance.
>A massive gorge lies beneath you as you come to the edge.
>”Hey, isn’t this the same place your tower is?”
>You nod
“So it would seem. What a delightful coincidence.”
>You reach out, and the mana of this world sings to you.
>Yes, you can feel them, down there, below the earth.
>Still resting.
>Still waiting for your command.
>A memory of three years ago comes to your mind.
>It was time for them to rise once more.
“Rise, my beloved. Rise, and spread your wings.”
>Energy begins to gather around you in a massive maelstrom of power.
>The shadows grow heavier.
>Emeral lights begin to wind and snake through the earth below.
>And in a chorus, you hear the long-dead call out in a scream of anguish.
>They feel your pain, your anger, your hate.
>And they will not abide it.
“Come to me, Wyrms! Rise from your ancient resting places!”
>A cascade of haunting, green flame belches forth into the sky, a beacon for all to see.

>As expected, not five minuets later, multiple Eldar began to appear along the clearing.
>You could see them clear as day, the darkness hiding nothing from your sight.
>You continued on, acting as if nothing was the matter.
>You looked all the world like you were alone, not even the most advanced magics could find Shermanator.
>You had seen to that.
>The emerald flames over-take the sky as great clouds begin to form.
>The ground below cracks and writhes, monoliths of stone being forced upwards at odd angles as your ritual scars the land.
>You have attracted the eyes of your targets.
>Good.
>You will need the Eldar dead if you are to take the field.
>As expected, a thin, small piece of sand punches through your skull.
>As if it mattered.
>You ignore it, and with a flourish, the ritual excellerates.
>There is a roar from beyond the grave.
>The cliff begins to crumble under the quakes of something moving below the earth.
>The Eldar spare no more time, and charge for you.
>Their Banshee’s howl in their boisterous, flamboyant way, in an attempt to intimidate you.
>Your fucks shriveled up eons ago, and there are none for you to give them.
>You spin lazily in the air, and extend a hand.
>The darkness rises up around them, and they move to block and counter.
>The Tendrils writhe, not truly attacking, simply keeping the attention off of you.
>Shots from the forest line go wide as those within attempt to hit you.
>Enough playing.
>You extend your hand, this time at the tree-line.
“The Carrion Lord bids you rise! In the name of Alzikon, Dread God, Serve me!”
>There is a crash of thunder, and a roar.
“Destroy these Eldar, and leave me their corpses.”

>The sky is suddenly host to hundreds of skeletal dragons, their rib cages burning with eldritch fire
>Their baleful gaze turns upon the Eldar both in the open, and in the forest, and with a scream of hatred, they descend.
>Red flames consume the forest, the unnatural fire within the Dragons turning to savage fire as it splashes upon the field.
>They scream in panic and agony, and try to rally.
>You return to the ground, and with a motion, the Banshees are consumed by the darkness.
>The oily fires give little light, but generate enough heat to roast the Eldar alive.
>The flames will give them no solace from the coming darkness.
>A number of Warlocks have gathered, ready to destroy you.
>You tilt your head in confusion.
“Ten of you, and only one of me? I think someone is out-matched.”
>The darkness congeals and snakes forwards, forming a metallic staff.
“You should have brought more mages. This will be amusing.”
>”Silence, Mon-Keigh. You have stolen a Soulstone from us. You will return it!”
>You levitate the Soulstone up, and gently run a finger along it.
“Oh, this little trinket?”
>You tap it, and the gem shatters.
“I consumed his soul long ago. It’s his corpse you should worry about, though.”
>You motion behind the Warlocks, just as a barrage of ice shards slash through the air.
>A howl pierces the night sky, joined by the circling Dragons.
>The slain Eldar convulse, stumbling to their feet again as your shadow slithers into their armor.
>The ghouls from earlier race through the forest on all fours, and pounce from the brush, their armor cracked and in some places missing, their helmets discarded, revealing dead eyes covered in crystallized blood.

>Their teeth are smeared with Eldar flesh, as they race towards more living prey.
>They are even joined by a half-eaten, female Guardian, who howls in hunger.
>All across the clearing the dead and dying are rising and turning upon their allies.
“Do not worry, Warlocks.”
>The snarling, hungry forms of six Howling Banshees stalk behind you, blood dripping from their armor.
>Their blades glint in the faint light.
“You shall be spared this fate, to feast upon your own kin, fully aware of what you are doing.”
>You laugh
“No. You shall be a sacrifice. Your bodies shall become host to the Gravelord himself.”
>They stiffen, and form a circle, guarding themselves.
>”You will have to take us first, daemon.”
>You recoil
“Demon?”
>Your bellowing laughter whispers through the forest and into far distant ears, a contradiction carried not on the air, but from shadows.
“I am no demon. I am death its self.”
>You cast back your hood, revealing your skeletal frame.
>You waste no more time on words, as an arcane torpedo flies from your staff at the Warlocks.
>You expected a ward of some sort, but, oddly, they seem to not grasp the full nature of your abilities.
>Rather, they meet it head-on with a counter-attack.
>Amusing, very amusing.
>You simply wave your hand, and with an unholy scream, the dead charge forwards, the Howling Banshees, robbed of their souls yet still tied to their bodies, howl out with the force associated with their cry.
>Picking through the stolen Eldar memories, you wish you had raised some Dark Reapers.
>The irony would have been delicious.

>The first wave of Eldar Ghouls are cut down with practiced blade-strokes, honed by centuries of training and experience.
>That did not protect the Warlocks for the fact that being chopped in half did little to limit the Ghouls hunger, or drive.
>They grabbed hold and began to bite, being tossed off by magic and rough shoves.
>That bought the next wave time to get in close.
>The Warlocks, to their credit, fought with skill and grace.
>That did not halt their undead brothers and sisters from attacking like rabid dogs.
>Slashes and stabs did nothing to halt the onslaught, the Eldar ignoring pain, dismemberment, and all but being chopped into too many pieces.
>You watched in amusement as they were dragged down and ripped apart by teeth and nails.
>Three fell to the Eldar ghouls before the Warlocks finally found respite.
>Their deranged and damned brothers and sisters littered the ground all around them.
>You applauded slowly.
“Very impressive. Good form. Round two?”
>You ‘Ask’, as they size you up, ready to finish this.
>You raise your hands to the sky, brackish energy condensing around your fingers.
>You slam them into the ground, the energy draining into the soil.
>With a scream, the Ghouls return to conciousness.
>Their legs vanish in oily smoke, reattaching themselves.
>Severed arms scrabble towards their hosts, as the ghouls rise up as one, staggering.
>The slain Warlocks writhe on the ground, ripping their helmets off, revealing bellicose veins as they struggle against their reanimating bodies.
>”What.. What is this?!”
>You laugh in their faces.
“Are you so primitive as to have never witnessed Necromancy? You poor, poor Children…”

>You extend an open palm, the air around you whipping up from the intensity of your spells.
>The Ghouls stand back, watching, hunched over and salivating.
“You treat death as the end, don’t you? You have yet to master it. You see, death…”
>A lance of energy flashes from your finger, incinerating a weary Warlock, leaving only a dancing Skeleton.
>It’s eyes light up with green Witchflames, as it brings its blade around.
“… Is just another tool to be exploited.”
>Your palms fill with energy, as you leap into the battle.
>You swipe upwards, a flare of light blasting out in a searing blast.
>Their shields are battered away by the intensity of the blast, but it bleeds all of the harm the powerful light would have done.
>It also leaves them open for a flaming hand gripping one of the Warlocks helmets.
>He screams as you set him to the flame, and with a rough shove he falls back into the waiting arms of the Ghouls.
>You spin, a blade slashing at you, going through your robes.
>With a thought, your robes reform around the blade and grip it.
>The shadows obey, and extend, swallowing the sword whole.
>It is ripped from the Warlocks grasp even as you toss a spear of frost at another Warlock.
>Lightning flashes at you, but you negate it once again as before with a slight surge of mana within the Warlock, causing his spell to fail.
>A fist flies towards your skull, you let the impact toss you back, and you hit the ground, exploding in a gout of flames and oily smoke.
>The shadows swirl around the Warlocks, obscuring their vision.
>They draw closer together, watching the wall of darkness.
>They don’t bother to look within their loose circle.

>You grab one of the Warlocks heads with both hands, and he screams in shock.
>That quickly turns to pain, and your hands glow with energy and you shred his mind, destroying memories and personality information.
>You spin, ducking under a swung sword, and slide your bony finger up under the Warlocks front armor piece, setting a hand on his chest.
>His heart beats once, twice, then goes still.
>Your extended arm is lobbed off as the halved Warlock team struggle to counter you.
>Once more, you fade into the shadows, regrowing your arm with the negative energy saturating the air.
>You emerge not even a second later, and launch a fireball from both hands.
>They are learning, that much you can tell when a magically-charged blade flies up and intercepts the fireball, sending it into the sky.
>You counter with another barrage of spells.
>Lightning flashes as you trade salvo after salvo with the Warlocks.
>They are tiring much faster than yourself, even with their combined might.
>Time to end this.
>You call out in the Black Tongue to the Netherwraiths, and the shadows dance.
>The Warlocks shield their ears from the hurtful cylables.
>You feel the shadows begin to cloak you, and close upon the Warlocks.
>You harrow them with an impressive list of attacks.
>Gouts of flame.
>Strobes of Lightning.
>Lances of frost.
>beams of pure entropy.
>You let loose spell after spell, your hands flashing as you effortlessly barrage your enemies.
>To their credit, these were not some novice party of mages.
>They still did not impress.
>You had faced far better before.
>They hardly even matched the level of Arch-Magos that could cause you to worry.

>Your Fireballs land upon their shields, black smoke smothering all sources of light.
>The darkness was swallowing them whole.
>Litterally, for one Warlock who get too far away from the other four.
>With a scream cut short, he was dragged away by unseen hands and tentacles, your menacing laughter confirming his death.
>You pause your attacks, and let the smoke clear.
>You levitate above your awakened army, as the four see they are surrounded on all sides by skeletal ponies, Chimera’s, and dragons.
>Green witchfires burn in their eyes in absence of a soul.
“It has been fun, Eldar Warlocks.”
>You bow to them
“But you have finally met your end. You see, while you were busy playing this duel, you forgot one critical thing.”
>You extend your hands, as if to control the strings on a puppet.
>The Warlocks tense up, and grunt.
“You forgot to watch your shadows.”
>The moon is behind you, yet the Warlocks shadows go against the light, towards you.
>You can feel their panic, their every movement yours to command.
>When the darkness begins to boil about their feet, you let them gain control of their necks.
>When the shadows begin to climb their legs, thick, tar-like tendrils wrapping around their arms and shoulders, you allow them to scream.
>And when the Gravelord drags them in, their flesh flying into the ravenous hordes, you simply laugh.
>Their last, painful moments were spent as they should be.
>Dieing to further your goals.
>From the site of their last moments, thousands of skeletal hands and limbs grope for perchase.
>The Eldar Ghouls toss their soulstones into the writhing mass of shadows, their souls being devoured by this rising beast of the Nether.

“Gravelord, Regent of the Carrion Lord of the Dead.”
>Your tone is reverent, befitting an agent of the deity of the Undead.
“Come forth into this world, come forth and spread the shadows of the Master of Undeath.”
>The mass of Skeletons rises, a massive blade where the right hand should be.
>The Skeletons chatter a chorus of prais, the Eldar Ghouls joining their moans in to a symphony of unhallowed evil.
“Do my bidding, master of the Veil!”
>The light seems to be squeezed out of the air as the Gravelord shoulders a great shawl of pure darkness, the light afraid to pierce its darkness.
>You gaze upon it through the veil of darkness, the shadows hiding nothing from you.
>Even this powerful avatar of undeath held less favor with the darkness than yourself.
“Gravelord Nito, let us carve our way through the Eldar who dare interfere.”
>With a raspy clack, the Gravelord begins to march, the undead all around you taking step with it.
>You take to the air, watching as the forest falls silent from the unnatural darkness of this night.
“Farseer of the Eldar…”
>You turn your gaze upon the direction of your undead horde.
“Prepare yourself, for not even your craftiest of machinations shall stop the silent march of the dead.”
>YOU WOULD THINK THAT.
>You ‘smirk’ mentally.
>WE HAVE STOPPED THE NECRONS BEFORE. WE SHALL STOP YOU HERE.
“You think you can beat death, and deny a Lich his prize.”
>You send a feedback bolt through the mental connection the Eldar established, before sending him a missive directly to his mind.
“HOW QUAINT.”