In Warhammer Fantasy as my ERP Character

47

I looked at the warning incredulously as I watched the fight between Taurox, Druig, and a giant werewolf. Were there more werewolves? The only werewolves near here are… I fly above the battlefield. Pungent rotting smell immediately assaulted my nose. Then the chaos of the battle. The Slaughterhorn minotaurs and even my children are afflicted with something. But the werewolves are turned into red with burning fangs and claws, fighting anyone near them. Again I am caught off guard. I looked around on who is meddling and what I can do.

A bright flash from behind. Ducked and landed just in time. Then I saw him. It is Malagor, though he is in a worse state. One of his horns, wing and eye are missing. I shoot forward with the force of my hooves and wings. My hoof landed on his face with all the force. Yet he stood still as if not feeling any of it.

“The fuck!?”

But Malagor has finished channeling his spell. Gathered into his throat and unleashes Bray Scream spell. His howl louder than any thunderstorm and sonic boomed in front of his jaw. The giant trees of Drakwald sundered, uprooted, and were thrown away by the force like leaves in a hurricane. For Valariel, her eyes ruptured by the pressure, she felt her flesh, her bones, her organs, her very existence vibrating, roaring in pain as she was thrown away. Blood gushes from all her orifices.

“Regenerate.” She focused, healing her body and senses as soon as her clarity returned. With the spell power tripled, her eyes and ears restored quickly. She saw winds of shadow magic gathered on Malagor’s left hand as he chants before disappearing. Then he swings his hand. Valariel jumps up in time with her hooves and wings. The trees that are not sundered are now cut cleanly in the middle. Falling slowly like giant pillars that shook the earth as it reached the ground.

So that's the Penumbral Pendulum spell in action. My body regenerates quickly with my mutation and my regeneration spell. My turn.

“Fire, explosion, spread.” A fireball conjured on my hand, expanded then divided into multiple smaller fireballs. I throw them and like thermic beams it shoots down. Exploding as soon as it touches anything. Surrounding trees turn into ashes, rocks molten immediately and Drakwald starts burning.

But Malagor managed to cast a spell just in time. Death magic woven into a wide cloth around him. The flame grows cold near the cloth and dies as the air grows colder instead.

“Spear, rotation, pierce.” A spear of pure magic thrown from Valariel’s hand. Piercing through the death cloth and devastating everything directly behind it. The cloth disappears but Malagor is gone.

While within the death cloth, Malagor has channeled enough magic. He casted shadowstep and shadow cloak to hide himself a distance away. Malagor channeled the winds of magic again as he wheezed for breath. Casting spells over and over with just one lung is no easy task. The Golden Daemon has little to no experience of magic duels though his envy burns ever brighter on how freely and naturally she can cast spells unlike him or any other wizards.

“Dispel.” Valariel cast over the wide area. Revealing Malagor from his hiding. Immediately her finger pointed at him.

“Power, word, Ki-” But before Valariel could cast, Malagor cast the prepared spell twisted from Verena’s miracle. Bounding her in place with divine chains of truth and forbidding her to chant more spells for as long as she is bound. Malagor did not know what kind of spell the Golden Daemon almost cast but he instantly fears it and uses one of the three twisted divine spells immediately. But as the chains hold her in the middle of chant, the surrounding winds of magic grow chaotic, running amok without direction and unfinished instruction.

For Valariel this is the second time her insides explode in pain. Malagor felt all his internal organs rupturing and his only lung flooded with his blood. The battle between the Golden herd and the Slaughterhorn tribe now accompanied with heads or bodies exploding randomly on both sides. Adding more into the already chaotic battle.

Valariel struggled against the divine chains through her own willpower and divinity. Malagor coughs blood and can’t breathe, then he pulls out his carving knife, plunging it into his chest so that the blood flows out and not drowning his lung. Loud thunderous crack sounds as Valariel struggles against the divine chains. Malagor could only channel and gather magic as he tries to stabilize his breath, unwilling to tempt more of Tzeentch’s meddling if he miscast.

With a loud ringing sound does the divine chains of Verena break. Malagor, having calmed his breath, began chanting again. Valariel stretches her hands and wrestles the gathered magic as Malagor chants. Like what Teclis has done back in her first battle.

“Lightning, Divine, Chase.” With all the magic Malagor painstakingly gathered she chants her spell. Lightning gathered between her two hands. Thousands of thunderous roars accompany every blinding, blinking flow of the lightning. Louder, then brighter, then ever louder, and ever brighter as Valariel overcast the mighty spell with her own divinity. Determined to leave nothing behind Malagor's wretched existence.

True fear that rivals his fear of the Dark Gods appears in Malagor’s heart. Knowing that not even his very soul will remain if the spell hit him. Valariel shoots her spell, the lightning of annihilation that will chase him to the very end of the world. Malagor cast the second twisted divine spell with the little bit of magic he had left. Shallya’s miracle Martyrdom, to suffer in one’s stead twisted into a spell of Vengeance to strike back the enemy with equal hatred. A chaotic vortex stands in between Malagor and his annihilation. Inaudible is the sound that deafened and silenced the world as both divine spells made contact.

The Vortex of Vengeance, unable to withstand the power, begins to crack and Malagor looks up and begs for help. Only to find none of the Dark Gods he has served so zealously have their attention on him. The human Gods temples he have razed and desecrated, their priests and priestesses he has slaughtered and debased amount to nothing as in his last moment his soul perceives the Dark Gods. Khorne was vilified by Tzeentch’s meddling, Tzeentch more interested in the spell the Golden Daemon had cast, Nurgle smiled as his attention was elsewhere, and Slaanesh left, bored from the expected outcome.

The Vortex breaks

The lightning strikes

Malagor, the Dark Omen cease to exist