MultiGunner
Plantera
Placeholder draft for the final entry: Story
Written as a part of my terrarian lore, this is the battle between the Dark god and the last human hero, the last of our characters in terraria.
The ancient darkness awoke from his long slumber, the time had come again for another to sate his thirst for blood. He laughed now in a low and sullen voice within his halls of jagged iron, and miasmatic dread. How foolish this… hero, for without the powers of his sister there is none that can take on the king of Night. His army jeered as they descended from the world’s beyond, the end was at hand. His ancient host of Darkness gathered at his side, cloaked in the raiments of fire, light, storm, and in the essence of the night. Amidst anticipation and impatience Nechariyel opened the gateways upon his realm, and in a storm of looming darkness and dread his armies charged, an unstoppable tidal wave of dread and demise. The stars of the night sky waned as the army of darkness marched into the mortal world. The end had come for Emily, or Amarath the chosen. Her father had died here in a bid to protect his friend, and so too now she will stand against the darkness like him. With the sword of Night clenched in her hands the will of the countless dead poured into her, the power of ancients, both living and dead was given to her, the time had come for her to take up the mantle as a hero of mankind. But unlike her father she was not alone, her friends stood by her side, bound by the same will to end the curse of Man. She could feel it, the fire that rests inside her heart burned only brighter, the power of her forefathers was awakened.
From his black throne upon the twilit realm of the moon, Nechariyel threw down the pillars that sealed the foolish God of light, little more was his brother now than a pawn in his hands. Time had come to end all things, the plagues of the world means little to him now. His cold laughter ringed endlessly as the little trope of “heroes” downed the pillars, in the false belief that this would save their little world. He was a god, the greatest amongst all things, and there will never be a human that can break his curse. The false light of Annatar blinded the world as he escaped his prison of septimal darkness, his spirit manifesting into his other name; the monster of the moon, Cthulhu. Ripped of his mortal body he was little more than an overgrown wraith, but still the power of a god was to be reckoned with. His anger pulsated in him, the fierce desire to control the world overpowered his sanity. The monster of the ancient wars rose from an endless sleep, the Power of light fused into his three false eyes. The end was at hand.
Amarath’s sword danced in the wake of her powers, as if the flight of birds or the breeze of spring it flew and struck. It couldn’t be happening, Necharyiel was, for the first time in ten thousand years, afraid. He had seen her before, yes, in her hands held a sword he has seen before, and in her hands the power of the cursed mortal Annareth. As her sword delivered the final strike on Annatar, the king of Night fell from his throne, cowering in the same fear he felt too long ago. She couldn’t be a human, she had to be an incarnate of Her… yes, no living human could hold the sword of heroes, he made sure of that long ago. But the power of Vana pulsed inside this mortal human, a power not even his darkness can overtake. Her sword was raised at the black god, she was ready to take on the impossible.
“Are you ready to dance?”
From his black throne upon the twilit realm of the moon, Nechariyel threw down the pillars that sealed the foolish God of light, little more was his brother now than a pawn in his hands. Time had come to end all things, the plagues of the world means little to him now. His cold laughter ringed endlessly as the little trope of “heroes” downed the pillars, in the false belief that this would save their little world. He was a god, the greatest amongst all things, and there will never be a human that can break his curse. The false light of Annatar blinded the world as he escaped his prison of septimal darkness, his spirit manifesting into his other name; the monster of the moon, Cthulhu. Ripped of his mortal body he was little more than an overgrown wraith, but still the power of a god was to be reckoned with. His anger pulsated in him, the fierce desire to control the world overpowered his sanity. The monster of the ancient wars rose from an endless sleep, the Power of light fused into his three false eyes. The end was at hand.
Amarath’s sword danced in the wake of her powers, as if the flight of birds or the breeze of spring it flew and struck. It couldn’t be happening, Necharyiel was, for the first time in ten thousand years, afraid. He had seen her before, yes, in her hands held a sword he has seen before, and in her hands the power of the cursed mortal Annareth. As her sword delivered the final strike on Annatar, the king of Night fell from his throne, cowering in the same fear he felt too long ago. She couldn’t be a human, she had to be an incarnate of Her… yes, no living human could hold the sword of heroes, he made sure of that long ago. But the power of Vana pulsed inside this mortal human, a power not even his darkness can overtake. Her sword was raised at the black god, she was ready to take on the impossible.
“Are you ready to dance?”
Written as a part of my terrarian lore, this is the battle between the Dark god and the last human hero, the last of our characters in terraria.
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