Written by The MunchKING
"JAFFA!! YOU DID WELL LEADING US HERE!! BUT NOW YOUR USFULLNESS TO THE OVERLORD'S DOMINION HAS ENDED... WE SHALL CRUSH THE REBELS HERE... AND YOU MY FRIEND, SHALL HAVE NO MORE USE AS A SPY. THERE WILL BE NONE TO OPPOSE US!! FACE YOUR DESTINY!!"
*The MunchKING reached over his shoulders and pulled out a Katana, and a large broadsword. The rampaging Legions of Doom Fade to the background, as he advances menacingly upon the cowering Rebel.*
Written by Tanith
He was the one that betrayed us... betrayed me...
The thought taunted her with the bitterness of betrayal. Disbelief gave away to anguish, which was immediately swept away by a wave of all encompassing rage.
Before she could think twice about what she was doing, she had translocated just a short distance away from Jaf-- from the traitor. MunchKING stopped short at her appearance. Jaffa turned around too, and gulped as he saw the mask of fury before him. He had seen Tanith truly enraged before. It had not been pretty.
"You want him, MunchKING?" she hissed, though her words were clearly heard by both. "Then you can have him!"
At that last word, she released the rage-fueled gathering of Will into her Word of Command, tapping as well into the fount of power that was her Quickening. Her power slammed into Jaffa, pausing only a moment to penetrate his shields before throwing him into the air like a burning rag-doll before crashing into the ground right in front of the MunchKING.
Exhausted, and having spent far too much energy into that single blast, Tanith collapsed to the ground. With weariness, came despair also, like a blanket that suddenly engulfed her. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her head, averting her gaze from the slaughter she knew was about to occur.
I will not cry, I will NOT cry...
Again and again, the silent mantra reiterated in her mind, even as a single tear drop slid down her cheeks.
Written by The MunchKING
Jaffa blurred back together. "HAH, I am a shape shifter, slicing me won't help!!"
"VERY WELL THEN!!" The MunchKING said, voice going deep. "LOOK UPON YOUR DEMISE, MORTAL!!! KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND, ARISE!!!
Twelve giant Etheral Knights emerged, hit Jaffa with their immensly powerful weapons of mass destruction. Jaffa explodes messily, showering everyone around with gore, except for some odd reason the MunchKING.
LEGIONS, ADVANCE!! The MunchKING gestured over the Hill. Then he looked at the female Rebel. He had seen her before... She was beautiful... He advanced on her blood-spattered form.
SURRENDER NOW, REBEL!! SURRENDER, (Here his voiced dropped back to conversational levels) and I will grant you the Utmost Mercy. You will merely be a prisoner, as opposed to Eliminated as that traitor was...
Written by Tanith
"I will never surrender. Not to you. Not to that demon of an Overlord you serve. And not to your dark Empire." She spoke each word calmly, but with the full conviction of belief behind each and every word. "As long as I live, I will do my utmost to stop you and everything you stand for."
There, she paused. Even if she had not spent herself in her previous outburst, she knew that nothing she had could really harm the powerful foe before her. Her words dropped to barely a whisper. "So you'll just have to kill me, I guess."
With that, she gave the MunchKING one last defiant stare, before closing her eyes in anticipation. As she waited for his blade to fall, she couldn't help but remember times long past, before the spectre of the Dominion crept over the multiverse. Back then, she had considered the fearsome being before her a friend, even at the repeated cautions and skepticism of many others, who had deemed him a danger and threat.
Ironic. It seems that the Metaphysician of Earth 2.0 had been right after all.
Silently, she waited for the blade to fall.
Written by The MunchKING
"We will meet again, my sweet Rebel, our destinies are not untangled yet..."
So saying, he turned and ran up the hill.
"KEEP GOING YOU FOOLS!! WE SHALL TAKE THE SPACEPORT WITHIN THE HOUR!!"
Written by Tanith
Tanith shook her head to clear her mind. It was too many emotions in too little time. She needed time to assimilate it all.
Quickly, she got to her feet. A swift check of her personal teleporter informed her that the spacial warping around Khazan was too much for the small device. But there was another method.
Swift as the wind, she raced toward the outskirts of the city, where the least amount of Dominion troops were gathered, as forseen. As she ran, she used what little remained of her power, combined with judicious aid with her gelsuit's effector to "persuade" the enemy troops that milled around her to ignore her presence.
Finally, she reached the outskirts of the city, in a small closed in area that the Dominion troops had not covered. She stopped there to get her bearings.
Suddenly, her enhanced hearing picked up a faint sound that stood out from among the deafening-blasts that covered the area. She tilted her head to better listen for it. The sound seemed to be getting closer. And she could almost make out...
"...aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
*CRASH!!*
Tanith jumped aside as something human sized crashed into the ground not far from her position. As the dust cleared, she could make out the form of...
"Drunkard Kid?! Is that you?"
Coughing from the remaining dust cloud, Drunkard Kid staggered to his feet. The force field around him that had protected him from his landing shimmered, and was then retracted at his mental command. As he stumbled towards Tanith, she could see that in one hand he held a familiar hammer.
"Moljnor?" Despite the gravity of the situation, Tanith could not help but smile. Shaking her head ruefully, she got down to business once again. "The teleporters aren't working. It seems we'll be using your... ah... backup, after all."
Shaking off the last of his dizziness, Drunkard Kid nodded as he un-summoned Moljnor into a paper drawing once more. With his right hand, he linked hands with Tanith. Then he raised the palm of his left hand before his eyes. On it was a tattoo of a boom-tube-like portal, except in a swirling design and with something in the center, something so detailed that the normal human eye could not make anything out of the multicolored dot.
As he activated his animation powers, the tattoo design began to shift and move as if alive. It also began to expand, and the dot in the center enlarged to a complete picture... of his room on board the Andromeda.
Meanwhile, in said room on the Andromeda, a picture of a large swirly boom tube that was painted on one of its walls began to move and shift as well. The multicolored dot in the center of that design began enlarging as well...
Soon, a gate formed between the two designs. It shimmered as if slightly unstable, before suddenly solidifying into reality. Immediately following that, Tanith and Drunkard Kid hopped through the gate, right onto the Andromeda.
As Tanith immediately headed for the bridge, calling out for a report from the Andromeda AI, Drunkard Kid turned around and sealed the portal. Then, he too headed for the bridge.
They weren't out of danger yet.
Written by Locke
Come Ninrevh,come Tyre.
Nanking.
Berlin.
Troy.
Ah yes...A single death is a tragedy.A million deaths is a statistic.
Oft-quoted.In truth he had never agreed with that hoary adage.
In these moments as of old he returned his thoughts to the bloody spectacles of a world to which he never intended to return.And in the pages of sacks without number one might find horror without equal.
No the old man was wrong.A single death was not a tragedy.
A single death was a pleasure to be savored.
And it is a pleasure beyond the mindless spiritless dolts that served him...in truth the techno-zombies had had more life to them more spark.
Take now the Imperial commander who stands forward insistently,doubtless emboldened by whispered rumor that the Grand Vizier's days were surely numbered.
He stands the bemedalled fool with his quantum data chips and speaks without leave...
'the tactical Situation....my Lord...we fear the rebels
*Traitors you mean...*
' the ..traitors Lord...Andromeda has not yet fallen...we fear she fights to cover some deeper purpose..."
*Yes idiot I'm aware....this scenario is as I anticipated...they seek to deny us Khazan itself...that much is within their power.*
'the Traitor Tanith...we estimate she has executed a successful escape and evasion to her ship...i remind you we are not fully aware of-
*Enough.It is of scant consequence.Observe our viewcreens...
'The killing pits...Lord..'.
*Very good.Astounding powers of obsevation the Academy turns out in it's honor graduates."
*Yes the killing pits.It is why I am here.*
This he had insisted upon and would not be gainsaid...
Who could measure that moment...
In a thousand gulches and ravines he had ordered this...
No man was permitted even the dignity of the smallest rag...no woman have even the pretense of modesty..
Naked they were prodded forward in lines that snaked for scores of miles on what remained of the City's roadwork...lines of mewling shambling sheep to be prodded and lashed and tormented...
And it was done as he had always done upon every world where this had come to pass...
Blaster fire had scoured the pits from the earth...
Every other victim went dead in the manner of old...seized by troopers...forced to the edge....this he had always done and always would
A single shot..a killing shot it must be in the interests of time of expedeiency..
That was every other casualty...the alternates of course were merely tossed in yet living...
The camera-men who filmed such scenes knew little of sanity after such nights...
Hard to turn his gaze from the sight...
*The Houses Of Worship?*
'As you ordered Lord...
He wondered what God heard those pleas...
He wondered to whom they prayed in this their hour of need....
No chapel had escaped...no mosque,no temple...no church...
All had been targeted...
Be it a single room ever so obscure...Khazan's archives had been interrogated and yielded up their names their places...
And all had been purged by fire that knew no mercy...
Let them pray.Let them beat at the doors locked tight...
There is a God indeed my witless fools the Vizier thought...
Waste not your pleas...He long ago measured your fate in the pitiless balance and found you wanting...
And death will be no escape for you...My Overlord's reach extends beyond even the Grave...
On ten thousand worlds he had ordered this done...withut fail.
Never had the Heavens fallen and justice been done for those who screamed in the fire...and as well he knew never would...
For His God the Overlord smiled upon his labours...
*The Prisoners?*
As he had ordered...the old routine so well established...
Decimation in the fashion he preferred.
One in ten would survive to be set free if such a word could be used...
And he who has been to so many worlds..so many times...still this he prefers aove all others the fate to be meted out to those who would serve as example of the price to be paid for opposing the Overlord.
None will emerge from the prison hulks... as quite themselves...
He has always found that the shambling shuffling faceless handless leper a peculiar horror...and ages ago he had seen to it that the leprosy strains his physicians had... perfected were incurable...
Let these few of Khazan attest to the folly of resistance...on a thousand times thousand worlds this they would remember...
The rest...
Some few might be suitable entertainment...
The weak and the ill would labour til they died...
The healthy would die in the killing pits upon Khazan...no material for resistance could be permitted...
But this scant brief moment of pleasure must pass..
In all the rack and ruin of Khazan but a single facility had by design been spared....
This was the Archive of Khazan...the Archivium of Her legendary Arena...
He had always known such a place must exist and the analysts detailed to find that temple of academia had done their job..
As had the Team he had sent forward into the inferno...
He cared not that gallant hard-fighting front-line units must be denied re-supply or if the wounded choked to death in their own blood.They were replaceable.
That which the commandos stacked in anti-grav lifts was not.
The recordings of every battle ever fought in the arena..the commentary and analysis...aye this would be a treasure to lend solace in those lonely hours when he awaited the Overlord's pleasure...
Aye indeed this alone was worth the torment of knowing the Overlord's favor might be denied him...
The staff of the archives would never know death...their fate was interrogation without end...not a single detail must be overlooked from these who had been privileged to witness the champions battle...
Almost done now...
They fire in precise manner from the Heavens he commands by leave of the Overlord...
The calculations he had done himself...
And what the lightnings of Heaven carve with surgical precision upon the face of the land is visible from orbit...
It is the face of one who imagines herself a champion of peace,of justice,of mercy...
It is the face of Tanith the rebel...Tanith the traitor.
And that face even now threatens to break asunder...
But it will hold long enough...for there will be nowhere in all the world who do not know that Khazan was remade in the graven image of one who sacrificed without hesitation a world to conceal the mark of what her folly had wrought.
The Face Of Tanith they would remember...Tanith the Fool...Tanith the Smiling.
Would Rune the brat ever know a night's peace in all the years she might be heir to...
Her dreams would betray her always as had in truth her sister to sacrfice so much for one...a world charred and burnt and struck by the firy Hand of the Overlord and for what...so Rune the spratling might live...
The old man had been wrong. A single death is not a tragedy. A single death is a pleasure to be savored and not all deaths are of the flesh.
Khazan they must flee leaving behind them that terrible place... but memory is not so easily abandoned...
But he had of course no desire to take leave of his memories...
No indeed...in those recollections in sooth he dwelled...
Let us leave him there now on the bridge of that terrible dreadnought gripped in the gore soaked madness that even his Master might quail at...
Come Ninrevh,come Tyre.
Written by The Watcher
Every single file, every bit of data, erased into nothingness, where even the Overlord could not recover them. For deep in the heart of Khazan's institutions moles had lurked undiscovered. Deep cover agents who had been lying in wait since before the rise of the Overlord. Ones who had standing instructions for every potential contingency, including the then nearly unthinkable fall of Khazan.
Acting on plans long made and prepared for, they came like a thief in the night during the time of chaos, and wiped the archives clean with hidden commands and programs prepared and embedded months before. The only copies left in existence were the ones painstakingly made over the long period of time the infiltrators had been in place. Eventually they would be delivered into the hands of their master, who would have them thoroughly analyzed to see what arcane, scientific, and strategic secrets could be cleaned from the data. The detailed medical information on combatants revived post-game alone was worth the effort put forth to obtain them. And thus the prize the Grand Vizier desired had slipped through his fingers like the ash of his victims.
