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@murder-emperor
“A common misconception. In life, I was an averagely sized man. In death, my size is completely dependent on whichever suit of armor I choose to inhabit. My current favored set, modeled after the suit I wore in life stands only at 8 feet tall. Granted, I have had larger ones constructed for more... intimidating purposes. But none are over 12 feet tall or larger.”
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“You mortals and your obsession with height....”
"Are you prepared for an eternity of suffering, my dear Veigar? I have let you go once, only to give you hope for but a fleeting moment. We both know where your true place is. Not as conqueror... but the conquered."
“I can and will exile you into space, dear. You may be unkillable, but even you can’t force yourself to move in the true vacuum of the cosmos. I will rule, and not even you can stop me anymore.”
“And I know you were tricked, I escaped through my own means, FOOL.”
“Amusing to see you think so high and mighty of yourself. Living in the shadow of greatness warps the mind, I see. Especially for small, furry vermin such as yourself. Worry not though, Veigar. For even you play a role in my grand scheme for this world and all that lie beyond. When I need you- when it’s your time to join my side once more, I shall seek you. Until then, enjoy playing your childish little game of conquest and blabbering the ears off mortals with that shrill, annoying voice of yours.”
Exile him to space? A humorous thought. Mordekaiser had free reign and passage between this realm and his own. Even if Veigar’s threats were carried out, the lord of death would not be so easily banished again. This time? He was here to stay. Veigar would learn to fear Mordekaiser once again, as would the rest of this wretched world. All in good time....
"Still nothing more than a bloodthirsty barbarian I see, Pantheon. Good. The more you slaughter, the more I can recruit into my army of the damned."
“Nothing more than a bloodthirsty barbarian?” He mused, gleaming eyes narrowing as he glared at Mordekaiser, his searing eyes drinking in the others statue. It was rare to gaze up at someone, Pantheon welcomed the change.
“That’s rich coming from you, ancient Barbarian lord. Remember that I was there when you first walked this realm. I was present when you perished and when you came back. So too shall I be present when you lead your legions into battle once more. Until then rest assured that as long as I walk your populous will choke on death, you’re undead realm will be flooded with more souls and spirits than you could possibly know what to do with.”
He grew silent for but a while glancing at the spectral armor with the unholy green light lingering inside, the essence of the ancient warrior lingering, never truly refusing to fade. Such a man could call the war gods respect his. A mortal who had transcended mortality by sheer force of will alone. An effort that had to be commend.
“Do not take me for your enemy in this theater of conquest. War and death are natural allies.”
“You are but one of the few who actually remember my mortal name, as well as the way the world trembled at its mentioned during the days of which I still had flesh. Now I am... something more. The world may have forgotten me, but that just gives me all the more reason to give it reason to fear once more.” The two of metal spoke, glaring down into the crimson eyes of the war god. Mordekaiser could feel nothing behind them. No sympathy. No happiness. Nothing. Nothing, except rage. Hatred. Contempt. Pantheon was truly one of the few beings who could match Mordekaiser’s strength blow for blow. And dare the revenant even say? A threat. One that he would always have to keep a close eye on, regardless of what words he may sprout today. Words were weak. Actions were a warrior’s only true way of communicating to his peers.
“We shall see all in due time, aspect. Even if you fill my ranks with the souls of the weak and pitiful, we both know your lust for war and battle would eventually overtake you. Even when I eventually conquer this realm once more, we both know that this frail alliance we have right now would shatter as you throw yourself upon my ranks of the dead, seeking to face me in combat. Your rage knows no bounds, Pantheon. One day, it will be the reason why Nightfall shall clash with your spear. I hope you are prepared for that day, Pantheon. Because I shall show you no mercy.”
"I have heard a great deal about you, but am uncertain how much is true and how much was...embellished. As someone who is rather experienced with a different type of necromantic force, I would be grateful to know how, beyond the possession of a singular will, you differ from the Black Mist." (falsecalling)
“My name has been far spread across history and the land itself for good reason, Lich. I differ from your petty mist in the way that I require only myself to conquer. To enslave. I can appear within Runeterra at any given moment... on any given day. I am an unpredictable, unkillable force that even the gods themselves have grown to fear. If your petty ruined king wishes to eliminate me, then feel free to send him this message: You are welcome to try.”
@falsecalling
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What are the buildings in Mitna Rachnun for if everyone's too busy standing at attention all the time to use them?
“The petty souls that serve me do more than just stand at attention and slaughter in my name. Whenever I am not within the walls of the Mitna Rachnun, those who have earned the right to keep their physical form may traverse anywhere within my realm and do as they please. Their physical forms are not the only gift I have bestowed upon them. Let it not be said that I am not a generous god.”
murder-emperor started following you
“So, you return once more.”
“I was never truly gone. Merely... delayed. I was always an inevitable force, Pantheon. You of all beings should know this.”
Unrelated to blog/RP below.
I finally made it to gold. Me and my partner both in the same game.
It feels... good. And I played Morde no less!
' ah, master. you've dropped your . . . your . . . ' wait. what is this black notebook doing in the middle of the Isles. what is the purpose behind the title "DEATH NOTE" on the front cover? // sculhuntr
“Kayn, your attempt at humor is neither appreciated nor enjoyed. You continue to be a disappointment and a failure. Why you insist on being bothersome is beyond me.”
You've made it clear that the souls who constitute the matter of Mitna Rachnun mostly just sit there and suffer all the time, but what about the people who get to stay mostly people-shaped? What do the worthy souls do when they're not conquering in your name?
“Those who have the honor of retaining their physical form do whatever I tell them to do. Which, as you gathered, is correct. Conquer. Find fleeting souls of interest that could benefit my army. Other than that? They stand at attention, lining the Mitna Rachnun, awaiting my order. Never tiring. Never questioning my decisions. They don’t even stare at me as a I walk past. They exist simply because I allow it. They all do well to remember that. Yes... even the most defiant of souls in life are no more than mere pawns for me to play whatever game I desire with in my realm. Put simply, outside of that, they serve no purpose but to stand around as living trophies; monuments to my greatest victories over even the most valiant of heroes that the living have to offer. That... is their sole purpose for getting to keep their physical forms. No other deeper meaning, curious little grey spirit.”
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(Cont. from x)
Glaring down at the whelp as the other continued to sling out insult after insult, the Revenant simply allows him to continue to talk, giving him the gift of not immediately being crushed under Nightfall’s weight. He had heard it all over the centuries from would be heroes and villains alike. They were all dead. He was not. If words were this whelps sharpest blade, then Morde would need not worry about this one.
“Are you done, boy?” The tower of iron asks the small boy before him, lowering the mace just as big as he to his side, testing its weight in his hand as he continued to glare, unflinching at the unruly brat before him. “It seems like you have a lot of pent up anger and aggression within you. To approach a lord of death and engage in verbal combat with him. I am unsure whether to be amused by your bravado...” Rolling the shoulder that held Nightfall, the titan releases a quiet chuckle. “Or punish your reckless and foolish behavior.”
Despite his words, the lord of death was amused with this child, and wanted to see the true edge behind his words. The strongest talkers always made for the most amusing of victims within the halls of his citadel, after all.
“Without my powers?” He repeats the words back to the shadow disciple. If he still had lips, they’d up upturned into a malicious smirk. “Sahn-Urzal. Pick up a history book and read up on him, boy. That is what I am capable of without these ‘powers’ as you so delicately put them.” The world had long since forgotten his mortal name, and all that he accomplished during the years he still had flesh. A pity. No matter. It just meant that he could to re-educate the world one soul at a time of the true terror he was capable of inflicting.
@umbranatus
What exactly do you gain from the suffering of your soul-based architecture? I understand that Mitna Rachnun has to be made out of *something*, but is there any benefit to having the construction materials be constantly miserable? If you have absolute power over them, why not just make it that they enjoy being bricks? Then they get a break and you don't have to listen to them moaning all the time. Win-win!
“The only benefit is my amusement, worm. If your tiny, fragile mortal mind is unable to wrap itself around this very simple concept, allow me to slowly spell it out for you in a way you’ll understand. I was a conqueror in life. And now, in death? I am still a conqueror. What I want, I take. If it comes willingly, then it shall be rewarded by simply not being lumped in with the rest of the rabble where it shall serve. However, if it chooses to resist? Then it shall be beaten into subjugation, until it learns to call me master, and heel whenever I so demand it.”
“So the only so called, ‘victory’ in this situation, as you so charmingly called it, is to remind the weak of their own frailty and failure with an eternity of suffering and sorrow. What better way to lament ones weakness and pathetic existence than by serving as a building block to something much grand and powerful than oneself? So to put simply? I enjoy the wails, screams and cries of anguish from every single delightful little soul that I have built my kingdom upon. But I wouldn’t lament over it for too long, curious grey little spirit... for you shall be added to that cacophony of screams soon enough.”
"what do YOU know about darkness, you oversized can?"
“More than you or your pathetic master shall ever know, boy. You masquerade as a disciple of the shadow arts, yet know not of the true power a master of the dark arts can wield. Can you or your master raise the dead? Can you or your master enslave the very soul of a being into eternal servitude- or cast it down into a pit of anguish, the likes of which would shatter the very frailty of a mortal mind? No. You and your silly little order are naught but an inconsequential band of children running amok in pajamas, playing with magics they do not understad.” Chuckling deeply, the towering revenant kneels closer to scythe wielding mortal.
“And that incessant, prattling tool you wield? A... ‘Darkin’, if what I was told is to be believed as true is nothing more than a twisted, malformed abomination parading as a god. Blood magic... how adorable.” Standing back up to full height and glaring down at the tiny man standing before him, Mordekaiser releases yet another dark chuckle.
“You have accomplished one thing today however. You have amused me and shown me that you, unlike other mortals, have a spine. You will make for a nice servant once your soul is within my possession, boy. And after this act of insolence? Not even your master Zed will be able to save you from my iron clutches once I deem it your time to serve. Until that day comes, count your days. Hours. Minutes. Relish every moment that you have flesh and a beating heart. For one day, you will have neither... not even your soul. And then you will know what true darkness is, and that will be my final gift to you.”
Pardon me, but who exactly is the "they" who can hear us scream in the realms of death? Just wanted to know so I can plan for the future.
“Everyone... every single lost and departed soul that has ever entered my domain. They are mine, and mine alone to do with as I please. Some beg. Some cry. Some scream. Some simply accept all that is to come, and wish to bind themselves to me in eternal servitude as part of my army of the damned. There is no planning for what I am. For what I can do. For death is inevitable for every living creature, and I? Am the lord of death. It is my weapon. To mold. To shape. To wield. So go ahead and do your petty little scheming, mortal... it will not save you.”
"You think you know true darkness?" The tower of iron lets loose a dark chuckle, slamming the head of his massive mace down into the dirt as he kneels down towards the harpooner so that they were face to face, his ghastly green eyes peering deeply into Pyke's own. "I can show you a darkness so black that it makes the bottom of the ocean look like a light show on a warm summer night." A deep, rumbling voice emanates from the suit of sentient armor, the menacing eyes behind the helmet narrowing.
“Don’t try.”It wasn’t defiance on his voice. It was something far… far worse.Defeat. Fear? Not of Mordekaiser. Of what lurked at the depths… beyond this world. The thousands of voices. The beaks, tentacles and teeth. Waiting. Bidding their time. Mordekaiser was but one. They were… too many. Too big. Too powerful.Leviathans.“Don’t.”
Unwavering as the other being seemed to lament over... something, Mordekaiser could only assume that he brought horrid memories of eternal darkness and weightlessness back to the other’s mind.
“I cannot even begin to imagine what you must have seen...” The revenent starts, nearly sounding sympathetic before another dark chuckle arises from his chest, the eyes in the helmet upturning, as if a mouth unseen to the eye was upturning in a sadistic grin. “Because the things I have seen? Are far worse than some mere snapping creature that resides within the murky depths below. Take a fish out of water, and what becomes of it? An oversized carcass, flopping around in fear, searching for its home.” Standing upright and staring down at the tiny drowned one before him, Mordekaiser lifts Nightfall before slinging it over his shoulder.
“I suppose however, the blackened abyss of the sea and the blackened abyss beyond share many similarities. The only difference? They can hear you scream in the realm of death. They can hear you scream... and they relish in it. When it is your time once again, we shall see if you still believe the two are incomparable.”
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