"Elements of Disharmony part 9"
By Commander_Xillian (https://pastebin.com/u/Commander_Xillian)

URL: https://pastebin.com/5bxKbkzq
Created on: Saturday 21st of April 2012 02:42:03 AM CDT
Retrieved on: Friday 23 of October 2020 08:09:48 PM UTC


>The warp parts before you, and you release the protective wards around your friends.
>This was not where you had intended to teleport to.
>You are immediately alert, scanning the dark room.
>You grip your swo-
>”Ah, I see you have arrived.”
>You can’t find where the voice was coming from, but you can tell immediately it was nearby.
>It almost sounded-
>”Good, good. I have been waiting a very, very long time to finally meet you, Anonymous of the Thousand Sons.”
>Alright, whatever it was that was talking, knew you.
>”But, please…”
>Candles are lit across the room, and you can see you are in your house.
>Not at all your target for the teleport.
>”Have a seat.”
>Your eyes adjust instantly, and you can tell that your living room is fully lit, save for one particular spot…
>You raise your sword, pointing at it, as you gather the warp.
”I don’t care what you are, but I demand you step forwards.”
>There is an echoing chuckle.
>”Do not try us, creature. We see you for what you are.”
>You look at Luna, who’s a shade paler.
>”Oh, forsooth?”
>There’s a creaking as the shadows themselves shift and pulse, before spitting forwards a humanoid figure, about six feet tall and totally concealed in a thick black robe.
>The only sign of anything inside those robes are two small green flames.
>You turn your hand towards the Necron and unleash a barrage of Doom Bolts.

>The robe sleaves do not show the creatures hands, but it raises one of them, a blue mist focused around its hand, and with a batting motion, the Doom Bolts falter and disperse harmlessly.
>Luna’s horn glows, as does Trixies.
>In a swirl of motion, glowing sigils form in the air, as, surprisingly, the glows violently falter.
>”Please, may we dispense with the hostilities? I can negate your capabilities all day if I-“
>Pinkie.
>Right the fuck out of nowhere.
>”Stop!”
>You look down at Pinkie, who’s practically sitting on your arm.
>How she got up there is a Mystery.
>Must be all the exercise she gets bouncing everywhere.
>”Thank you, Madame Pie.”
>Pinkie glares at the intruder.
>”Start saying words.”
>The figures hands are burrowed back within its robes.
>”Of course, but first I must request that I be allowed to sit. I have-“
>You cut him off.
“Now.”
>The figure pauses, and twitches.
>”As.. You wish, mighty Sorcerer.” 
>It was slightly perturbed, but you couldn’t get a feel on this thing.
>It was about as expressive as a rock.
>Even its tone betrayed no emotion.
>If this wasn’t a Necron, you were a Hrud.

>”Where would you like me to begin? There is much to discuss.”
”What did you do to divert us here?”
>The witchfires in the eyes move, slightly.
>Hillrious, it tilted its head at you.
>”Explaining the ritual would take far too long. Instead, look up.”
>You look up, as instructed, and see scorch marks on your roof.
>What in the hell?
>”It was a simple trap. The moment anything attempts to Teleport-“
>The runes come alight with shifting colors, blues and greens dancing through them.
>”-They are diverted here. Next question?”
>You look at this thing.
>You wanted to ask “Have I turned into a Hrud?”
>Instead, you think of something more productive.
“Explain to us what you want.”
>The figure cocks its head in the other direction.
>”Isn’t it obvious, Anonymous?”
>There are no words passed for a tense few seconds, before, with a sigh, the figure finishes.
>”I want you.”
>There is a lengthy pause.
>Then, a whirlwind of talking.
>”Hold on there, stranger, what do you want Anon for? We kinda need-“
>”-has been a Champion of the Realm, above and beyond what anyp[spoiler][/spoiler]ony could expect-“
>”-Still hasn’t taught me how to do anything more advanced than just a basic Doom Bolt!”
>The figure simply looks at you.
>You look back.
“When the Warp swallows the Galaxy. Then, I’ll come with you.”
>The three friends silence themselves almost instantly when you begin to talk.
>You glare daggers out at this… thing, from behind your helmet.
>”Despite the fact that your Ponyville is clean of Eldar?”
>”What do you mean.. Clean?”
>Luna almost looks as white as Celestia.



>The figure stands, before motioning to the door.
>”Simply gaze outside, and you shall see.”
>Luna doesn’t move.
>”You.. You..”
>Luna doesn’t move.
>”You.. You..”
>”Yes. I did. And now they rise from their shallow graves to serve me. Does that answer your question?”
>You had only ever seen Nurglite plagues raise the dead, before.
>Never before had you seen something in this condition that could command the dead.
>The figure draws closer and finally you can see some features.
>The lights dancing in the hood are small fires, set within what you guess to be a human skull.
“If I were to come with you, what-“
>”Would I give in return? It’s simple, really. I will not give you the Farseer, nor shall I interfere any further.”
>It fidgets in the furrows of its robe, looking up at you.
>”I have knowledge, more knowledge then you could possibly fathom, all there, open to you, if you but aid me. Once the Eldar have been dealt with, I shall collect you.”
>The creature crosses its hands behind its back and walks past you, towards the door.
>” I do not expect you to abandon your friends, Anonymous, but I require your aid.”
>It turns to look at you.
>”It is your choice if it is given willingly.”
>It raises a finger to its mouth, and there is a slight ‘blowing’ sound, as all the candles in the room go out.
>Its green eyes linger, for a moment, before going out.
>Even you had to admit, that was well executed.

>You return to the land of the Living with a flourish of shadows.
>Shermanator looks up, grinning his shit eating grin.
>In his hands is a pie, a fork stuffed in his mouth.
“Shermanator, did you properly pay for that confection?”
>”Nuh, buh ah pud sum monnhay in th’ registger.”
>You sigh
“Swallow before you speak, you troglodyte.”
>He takes an almost painful gulp.
>”Sorry. I paid for it, don’t worry Mr Bones.”
“My name is not Mr Bones.”
>”Skeletor.”
”My name is not Skeletor.”
>He eyes you wearily.
>You catch his meaning immediately, and glare at him.
“My name is not the Witch-King of Angmar either.”
>He nods, forking another load of pie into his mouth.
>”Hokay, just checkin.”
>You leave him, and head deeper into your makeshift lodgings, an abandoned cave, sitting down cross-legged.
>Soon, very soon, you would leave this place, and take this Sorcerer with you.
>All he needed to do was finish some business.
>Your part here was played.
>The pieces were set.
>Now?
>You simply had to wait to act.
>You feel a soft hand run up your ribcage, and return to the present, looking up to see a clean face on your shoulder.
>Very clean.
“My dear, I take it you were successful?”
>Green bile gurgles from her mouth as she clears her airways.
>”Yes, master. I have ensured everything is as you require.”
>You gently cup your beautiful child’s face, and return her gentle affections.
>The Brotherhood of the Grave forsake none, a fellowship that was denied to her when she once lived.
>If you felt true love for anything, it was a slight, fatherly connection to your tools.

>And so you waited.
>Your newest acquisition simply stayed in the darkness when the Pugilist was around.
>For the later part of the night, events proceeded fairly evenly.
>The Flayed Ones hunted, and were destroyed as the Sorcerer and his allies fought to the Farseer.
>You watched from the darkness as the final battle took place.
>In the midsts of the battle, the Farseer slipped away, attempting to escape from the brewing danger.
>He retreated to his Lords inner chamber, ready to sell his life.
>You chose now to strike.
>The darkness in the entry chamber darkens.
>The halls grow longer as chittering things claw at reality.
>The shadows lunge and writhe.
>Faces scream out as horrors not meant for reality struggle to get through.
>In the deepest of the darkest shadows, a familiar figure slowly limps out.
>A Warp Spider, a gaping wound in its chest, falls to its knees, blood oozing from the hole.
>”F.. Farseer… We… We have..”
>The Farseer recognizes the voice, and recoils.
>”You… You should be-“
”Dead?”
>You set a skeletal hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.
”You should know well enough, such a fate is denied as long as I yet reign.”
>The illusion dispels to the Spiders cackling laughter as she rises, the false armor fading, the purple blood turning a fizzling green.
”Enjoy yourself, my dear. He is all yours.”
>With a famished screech, the undead Eldar leaps upon the Fallen Farseer, her acidic blood oozing from her muscles, melting everything it touched.
>It was a scream of physical hunter, but also one for retribution.
>She had been spent like a “Mon’Keigh”.

>You move through the darkness, cackling excitedly as you strut your stuff.
>These Necrons were flippin’ beautiful.
>They were everything you could ever want in perfect minions.
>They were dumb shit
>Tough.
>Got back up when killed
>Didn’t care if they stepped in something!
>Oh, this was magnificent.
>You grab one through the darkness, and drag it into the Nether.
>Wraiths set upon it, dismantling it for later study.
>You return to the physical world, and wish you had a face for the first time in a while.
>The Warriors don’t even notice you, to them, you’re invisible.
>You lean on one, and watch contently as the fight takes place.
>Between watching the Farseer get torn apart by your pawn, the Necrons moving with perfect precision, and Celestia’s screams of pain…
>Oh, this was a perfect world.
>You would have to return here some day and conquer this Universe.
>From what you have seen, it would be quite the fun experience.
>Until then, you simply watch and wait, occasionally sending a Necron falling into the abyss of the nether, mostly on a whim.
>It was fun hearing their metal be shorn apart from the shadows all across Equestria.
>You watch absently as you hear a metallic clanking to your side.
“Finally bothered to come and see what the fuss was?”
>You look over at the Overlord, who watches below with you.
>”I can tell you are here, yet cannot locate your position. Tell me why.”
>You rise and stand infront of him.
“I do not wholly exist in this realm. I exist, one foot in and one foot out, so to speak.”
>It thinks for but a fraction of a second.
>”You are no creature of the Warp.”
>You liked this guy.

“No. I am from another dimension, one which has no interest in the Material. The Nether.”
>The Lord begins to walk away, and you walk with him.
”Tell me, are you afraid? Knowing you are about to die, at long last?”
>The Lord does not respond.
“I was too, the first time. But I’ve died a lot. I thought I was above fear, too.”
>You remember the second time you truly died.
“It was… Interesting, to know that not even power can stop death. It put perspective on things.”
>”And you think I view it differently.”
>It was a statement, not a question.
“Oh, I know you do. You see, you never even faced your first real death. How could you understand it?”
>You stop him, mostly with some arcane magic, but also with a hand on his shoulder.
“You cannot stop him. No matter what plan you have in place, no matter what stratagem. You will fail.”
>”And, why would that be, Phantom?”
>He looks in the direction of your hand.
>You simply release your grip.
“Because, you cannot cheat death forever. And I do so dislike being cheated.”

>A few days had passed sense your engagement with the Necrons.
>Shermanator had sense returned to the tower, content to await your return.
>It was now you decided to approach the Sorcerer.
>You wait until mid-day, simply to get the drop on him.
>You find him in the Ponyville market, browsing various random items.
>The Nether hides you well enough, but you need to get closer.
>You jump into his shadow, hanging just on the edge of control.
>Tenuous grip, yes, but you did not wish to alert him.
>Not yet.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your time.”
>You whisper in his ear, just another shadow walking alongside his own.
>You slowly rise from the darkness of an untended stall, and come to a stop facing him.
“I hope you have been considering my offer.”
>He clanks to a stop, and pauses, before looking down at you.
>”You have no reason to return me here, should I come with you. Even if I did, this is my place.”
>You tilt your head.
“Perhaps.”
>You snap your fingers, and your staff melts into existence.
“But that can change in an instant.”
>You produce a pale, almost clay-colored pendant.
”Do you recognize this?”
>He nods
>”That would be… How did you get that?”
“This is what will befall your world unless you help me. There is a threat that will sap the life and color from your entire world. It shall become a void of personality and life.”
>You extend the butterfly pendant.
“Sorcerer, I will be frank with you. Your entire world is at risk. Your friends, your ponies, even your very life as you know it.”
>You put it into his hand where is begins to vibrate and shimmer.
“Come with me. I will answer every question you have, show you knowledge beyond whatever you could imagine, if you only help me.”
>After a long pause, the Sorcerer looks up.
>”Deal.”