Twilight Vs Sartan

Bolts of crackling red and black energy crease the sky in the west as an elongated shadow twists
and turns, barrelling towards the Mhojave.game 8 Bolts of crackling red and black energy crease the
sky in the west as an elongated shadow twists and turns, barrelling towards the Mhojave.
Staining the sands black with blood, Dusk, the Listener succumbs to its wounds, shrieking a
spectral death knell before expiring within the Mhojave desert.

A shard of ethereal chalk appears within the skies, hanging suspended against a backdrop of
sparkling stars.

Guided by an invisible hand, the chalk begins to move rapidly, painting the very heavens with
starlight as a crisscross pattern takes shape; nine squares by nine squares.

Khaibit Kintsukuroi D'Ischai's Pasiphaean voice resonates, "I want to put my x in the middle square
please."

In moments the shard is gone, but the board remains, pulsing with celestial enchantment as numerous
peculiar pieces coalesce into being upon its ephemeral squares.

All Creation groans in agony as a monstrous rift opens in the heavens, a taloned hand emerging to
swipe casually at the board. At once a black-robed figure falls from its square, dispersing into
aught but so much stardust before the daemonic appendage vanishes whence it came.

Thousands of daemons howl and shriek as Sartan, the Malevolent roars above the cacophony, "Did You
really think I would leave Your pawn so close to My rooks, Brother? Your ego blinds You if You did
not anticipate My plan to remove it."

A burst of cold laughter echoes hauntingly across the Prime as the board vanishes. One by one, the
glowing nebulae wink out of existence, replaced by dense, inscrutable darkness.

The silken voice of the Dark Father reverberates from everywhere and nowhere, "This move was made a
century ago, Brother. If Your technique were any better than a child playing with toys, You would
see that a thousand more follow it, doing My Work under Your very nose!"

Thousands of daemons howl and shriek as Sartan, the Malevolent roars above the cacophony, "How
unlike You, Dark One, to make such broad assumptions. Are You -quite- sure I did not allow Your
little toy to remain?"

The silken voice of the Dark Father reverberates from everywhere and nowhere, "You overestimate
yourself, My Brother. Fortunately for Us both, I estimate Your skill precisely - and find it
lacking."

Thousands of daemons howl and shriek as Sartan, the Malevolent roars above the cacophony, "My
estimations are rarely wrong. Are You not the one that has tried, and FAILED to manipulate these
mortals time and time again?"

The silken voice of the Dark Father reverberates from everywhere and nowhere, "Have We not fenced
for eons? You forget who Your real enemy is, My Brother."

Thousands of daemons howl and shriek as Sartan, the Malevolent roars above the cacophony, "You are
ALL My enemies!"

The silken voice of the Dark Father reverberates from everywhere and nowhere, "You begin to sound
like the Fire Sprite, Evil One. How tiresome. Do feel free to sacrifice Yourself to "save us all",
won't you? No, You've not the skills, that is already clear."

Thousands of daemons howl and shriek as Sartan, the Malevolent roars above the cacophony, "Allow Me
to show You first hand how My skills are far from lacking!"

Reality buckles under a sudden exertion of Divine power as the Lord of Evil manifests in the skies,
His physical form awash with daemonic fury. Drawing the infamous Blade of Perdition, the Malevolent
One moves with a speed defying all perception, bearing down upon the cowled and hooded figure of
the Dark Father.

The dread blade sings with murderous hunger as it cleaves through the air, the Dark Lord smirking
with silent confidence before the Malevolent God's advance. At the last moment, the Shadow-God
draws His cloak about Himself and turns away, vanishing in a cloud of black smoke that drinks all
light from the Prime.

The silken voice of the Dark Father reverberates from everywhere and nowhere, "Have we descended to
brawling then, Brother? I would be glad to indulge, though You have shamed Yourself quite well
enough by Your own brutish actions. How effortlessly You are roused to senseless anger, forced to
dance on MY strings as easily as any of Your "Chosen"."

A roar of unfathomable rage tears across all the lands and plains of the Prime, laden with faint
tones of daemonic amusement.