This will eventually have multiple pairings, but the main focus will be EriSol. It's Alternate Universe, no SGRUB, no Doc Scratch or Lord English, or Felt. The humans exist as what I call 'emissaries of the elements' and that will be explained later on. The rating may go up as chapters come in. Please bear with me, it's been a long time since I wrote something on this scale but I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
Turning Tides
By B100b100dedCentaur
Prologue ~
The Sufferer, he had wanted to change the pain and heart ache he saw every day. To help those who lived in fear and terror and hatred find a better way, a better life. He preached words of hope and change to the masses, and the masses listened. The aristocracy had also heard his messages, and the rumbles of displeasure rippled through their ranks till a decision was made.
He had been the ultimate sacrifice. The payment for the changing of the world, the irreparable crack that would come to shatter the very ideals on which their culture had been founded. His execution had been a final, desperate attempt by the royals to squelch the swelling tides of his message; it failed. The united front of followers had grown in strength and courage, upbraided by a new leader that held no qualm for physically opposing the old traditions and laws. A vicious battle raged between the opposing sides, blood saturated the land and seas, the sky glowed with flame and sparking lights. Heavy losses were taken by both forces; still the whispers of unity and equality continued to gather strength, escalating to chants and shouts that nearly shook the walls of the imperial castle.
At last she had no choice but to destroy the usurpers herself. Drones had proved worthless, her powerful subjugglators had been unable to control the turning tide of battle, and now she was forced to calm the rabble with her own hands. Standing upon the outermost parapet of her towers, she gazed with cold eyes upon the masses of rebellious trolls; a myriad of blood colors intermingled with the absurd hope for what was strictly forbidden. Unity was impossible, peace and equality were delusions for weak minded cowards. With these thoughts drumming incessantly in her mind, she raised her right arm, her jeweled fingers curling and clawing through the heated air about her as her voice rang out, sharp and terrifying in its summoning cry.
All was deathly still, the hush echoing the call of the Condesce to her mighty destroyer felt heavy against the hearts of the armies gathered below her. A sickening groan was the first sign of recognition; the steady rumble of land and the slow surge of the tide water flanking the castle the only warning offered before the beast attacked. Great sprays of crystalline sea water crashed over the waiting army along the cliff side, sweeping many into the merciless churning tide below to be dashed against the rocks. Thick cords of sinew and muscle rose from the depths, tangled in scraggly ropes of kelp and reeking with foul odors. In panicked terror the masses watched the undulating arms twist high above their heads; reaching into the sky as if they would pluck the very stars from the heavens to hurl them down as burning weapons. As the Condesce held her own clawing hand above her crowned head, poised for devastation, so too did the tentacles hover, awe striking in the breath before the blow. They fell in tandem with her sweeping arm, her violent pleasure sated more with every crushing sweep across the cliffs. The shrieking of her enemies was nearly drowned out by the cacophony of garbled roars and gurgles that her pet made as it answered her command. All was surely lost.
Amidst the chaos there stood two unyielding rebels. Spattered in grime and blood, soaked through and scarred to their very cores, they stepped forward to meet the writhing desolation before them. Boots tromped heavily upon the sodden ground a few steps before great wings spread wide, lifting his body as a beacon to the floundering masses below. The Summoner brought all his abilities into focus, straining his mind to seek connection with the twisted mass of sea spawned horror. If he could but turn its focus, merely shift its rage to another direction. The bond between beast and master was unlike any he had encountered before, ancient and terrible in its perfection. He snarled against the pressure building up within his mind, the very synapses in his brain shuddering in duress and threatening to explode within his skull. The screams of the monster bellowing in his ears, echoed by her horrible laughter. He could feel the weariness eating away at his resolve; their bond was too deeply rooted for him to force through alone. Then it came, the wash of mental strength, the bolstering of his powers, and the unrelenting noise of their foes began to fade. He didn't need to look to see her below him. He could feel her mental presence, could shoulder the task again because she was united with him in this cause; bearing away what distractions she could from his mind and offering him the boost in psychic strength needed to slam against the mental tether joining ruler and beast. He felt it shudder against their combined effort, heard the terrible roar of confusion from the monster and the answering scream of rage from the castle tower. They were close, if they could hold out a little longer without being crushed by one of those massive waving arms they had a chance for success. Again they charged into their foes with all the psychic energy they possessed, desperately trying to chip even the smallest chink in their bond.
A blaze of white light cut through the sky, illuminating the night in blinding horror as it burned the very air around it and seared a scalding path through the out spread wings of the Summoner. He lurched wildly from one side to the other, a sharp howl of pain trailing his body as he careened into the rocks below. His companion was by his side in an instant, her sword drawn, dice curled between her long fingers and her hateful cobalt gaze leveled at the riffle bearer silhouetted against the burning outer wall of the castle. The curl of her sneer was as twisted as her emotions; the very sight of him was gut-wrenchingly painful and almost nauseating. She had thought him slaughtered by one of the Condesce's mirthful subjugglators, yet he stood there before her, weapon humming with the building charge of energy that would surely rip everything it pierced to shreds. Even with luck on her side, she knew the chances of deflecting his strike were small to nonexistent. It wasn't supposed to happen like this; how could things have gone so horribly wrong at the end? She bit back the cry of outrage that threatened to spill from her lips, she wouldn't show hopelessness in his face, wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Vaguely, she thought she heard the Summoner praying on the ground behind her, half choked pleas for a miracle. Miracles couldn't save them now. She spat on the ground, shifting her weapon hand back as she prepared herself for the charge. Her boots kicked forward, propelling her across the broken ground in a fierce rage of arcing motion. His blast raced out to meet her advance, snapping with hellish heat and power as it crackled and roared through the air. She didn't see anything but his violet eyes, mocking and proud, challenging her to meet him in close combat; so lost was she in his gaze that she never noticed the undulating tower of coiled tentacle haunting her feverish steps, racing to crush her before she could ever draw near her target.
Painted lips pulled back over jagged dagger fangs, the smile of victory over confident and entirely premature. Her Imperial Condescence was poised for her final blow, her arm out-stretched across the land, ready to decimate the leaders of the revolt and destroy her people's hope for change once and for all. Her jeweled fingers trembled, white knuckled as she strained every muscle in her arm for the force of her strike; it never came. The unexpected attack to her flank was shocking, and more so damaging to her pride. Never had she been caught off guard by any foe before. Blazing fuchsia eyes like polished gem stones gleamed in venomous fury at the hovering form daring to assault her tower. None had ever been so bold as to attempt single combat with her, not in centuries of her rule had any troll considered such a foolish course of destruction. She faintly conceived some ghostly form of recognition for this troll's identity. The whisper of her name was hazy in her mind, but it was of no consequence; she would lay waste to all who opposed her rule. Readying her trident, she brought her arms up high, springing through the air with a great war cry, her weapon catching the light of the fires below in its golden surface, gleaming wickedly at the sharpened prongs.
She was silent as the sea troll readied herself for attack, watched with detached disgust as the Condesce began her lunge. So foolish she was; in all her long years she had not learned how to read the flow of time and change. Never had she come to understand that the shift of power was natural, like the ebb and flow of the very tides she claimed to control. This would be her final stand; it would be the final act for both of them, the Imperial Condesce and the Demoness, the Handmaid of the Underworld. She had lived long years out of reckoning, charting the paths between life and death, communing with the emissaries of the very elements of life itself, and she had learned how to call them to her side. The price for their assistance was heavy indeed; this would be the last time she would ever summon them.
The flash of brilliant colored lights exploded between the trolls, driving the Condesce back to her knees as the eruption of blinding prismatic beams swirled and shifted, bolts of multifaceted lightning broke through the sky; as if the very foundations of their reality were being split asunder. A hand thrust forward from the storm of light and color, tendrils of orange tinted wisps curling up from its flesh as a figure fully emerged from the slender rift; standing before the Condesce arrayed in regal robe and glinting armor, the silent male placed a hand against his chest and clenched his fist. Orange light rushed forth, a narrow cavity splitting his breastplate as a sword hilt shot forth into his waiting grasp. The Condesce watched in growing confusion and awe as the blade emerged completely, long and terrible, glowing with an ethereal light that stung her eyes and made them water. She clutched her trident, sprang forward in an effort to lay waste to her glowing enemy. In that instant the blade rose and fell with a sudden flash of light, the blinking of an eye all the time it took for sword to pierce flesh, cut through muscle and sinew and sever the throat of the proud sea queen. Tyrian blood sprayed out upon the castle towers in a fountain of victorious death. The ghostly champion of the Handmaid turned to regard her, burning orange flames licking at his heels and along his legs as he began to return to the world beyond, the rift splitting open above his head to receive him.
She acknowledged his departure with humble acceptance and gratitude. He would await her arrival on the other side; it wouldn't be long before she joined him. Retrieving the head of the fallen queen from the parapet, she cast her gaze below at the turning battle. Gl'bgolyb, the horror of the seas, writhed in mindless agony, its tentacles lashing out in violent confusion against everything around it. One great arm crashed into the rocky terrain between the fierce dual of Mindfang the Gamblignant Commander and Dualscar, the Condesce's fleet commander. Both combatants were thrown yards apart in the resulting explosion of rock and rubble; Dualscar vanishing completely after the dust had settled. Mindfang sought him only briefly, seething at his cowardice as she turned her attentions to locating and joining the Summoner to watch Gl'bgolyb tear apart the very castle his master had inhabited. The undulating mass of tentacles tore brick and stone asunder, seeking some form of solace for the crippling pain of its cloven psychic link. The shuddering explosive destruction culminated in a final thundering roar as the castle collapsed upon the beast; heavy chunks of the castles once striking towers falling to pierce and crush the screaming terror and plunge its bleeding carcass back to the depths. In the aftermath, the Handmaid lingered long enough to extend her arm and let fall the head of the Condesce; the bloody visage still frozen in unbridled fury as it struck the ground and shattered, pieces of skull and flesh splattering in all directions with violent finality. As the summoner and Mindfang looked from the shattered remains upward, they watched in stunned silence as orange light erupted around the Handmaid, a pair of unknown arms bursting forth from a narrow tear in the sky to envelope her waist; then she was gone.
Three centuries had passed since the great uprising, as it came to be called. The caste system had been denounced, and all blood types could freely interact and choose their own futures. Initial dissension amongst the trolls had brought about the development of a Trifecta contingency of ruling leaders. The Helmsman, former slave of the Condesce, had established himself as a wise, highly cautious and powerful leader, and took up command of the western territories of Alternia. Red Glare, the head of the legislacerators and a secret ally in the uprising, took command of the central territories, appointing various trolls of all blood types into both judiciary and governing positions in the provinces surrounding the central city. The Summoner and Mindfang jointly commanded the eastern territory, though Mindfang was often at sea, hunting an elusive enemy that continued to plague their society every five sweeps.
Dualscar had survived the destruction of the uprising. His whereabouts were unknown, but he haunted Alternia like a ghostly plague. Ever since the Trifecta had been established, the Dolorosa and her companions had been tasked with delivering newly hatched grubs to the various capitol cities via hidden caravans. Grubs of all blood types would be delivered together, and raised by elder trolls willing to take them in, develop their minds and abilities and teach them the history of their culture and the importance of the Sufferer's teachings. At first there had been unease when the new batch of wrigglers contained sea dweller grubs, but the Trifecta had insisted they be treated as any other troll. Culling had been reserved as a punishment only attainable through grievous offenses and the judgment of a high court, and was not to be spurred to use by fearful whispers of the old aristocracy. Though spared, not all the sea trolls were safe. While the only two tyrian bloods to be hatched had been secreted away to hidden hives; every violet blooded sea dweller hatched was somehow stolen from its caravan before delivery. The continual cycle of grub snatching caused great alarm throughout Alternia's three kingdom's and struck deep concerns in the hearts of the rulers.
Eventually Mindfang came to suspect her old foe at the root of the disappearances, and set off to find his hidden stronghold. She put into port every ten sweeps, each time looking more haggard and weary than the last. After her fifth voyage she did not return, leaving the Summoner to mourn her disappearance in long nights of lonely agony. Still, the violet blooded grubs continued to vanish without trace, despite every force arrayed and placed to ensure their protection. The Trifecta met repeatedly on the issue, whispers of concern freezing in fear as a declarative letter was presented before them one bitterly chilly evening. It stated in bold announcement that Dualscar, the Orphaner, as he now called himself, had denounced the new laws and had established his own kingdom in the frigid northern sea islands; a kingdom of violet blooded sea dwellers who would openly oppose the new rule and spend their lives causing pain and suffering to all trolls who lived under the laws of the Trifecta. Dualscar would lash out till his dying day as a new terror, a hellish sea spawn in his new kingdom of Aquaria.