Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam W or AD&D. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.
A/N: Many thanks to my buddy Andy for lending me his favorite 2nd edition character for a cameo, despite how much I've tortured that character in the past (yes, I am a diabolical DM. I like to challenge good role players by screwing their characters in amusing ways. What of it?). Thanks for Shardo, buddy o' mine!
A/N 2: As if it isn't predictable enough, another reminder. /magical spell/ And some more notes. Telepathic speech, once again.
-BEGIN FIC-
"I'll not destroy you, mage. Not until I've had the satisfaction of seeing pain and grief and misery and despair written across your wretched heart and face. Not until I know that, for at least one moment, you're feeling the same helpless anguish I've suffered for the two decades you've held me prisoner. I'm not going to kill you until it's qualified to be a fucking mercy killing!"
Vincent VonWinner swallowed nervously, staring at the enraged Solar.
"And if I have to murder every person you've ever held dear to your heart, if I have to demolish every place you are fond of, SO BE IT!"
As one, they looked over the sprawling city that lay beyond the mighty castle's walls. One stared with narrowed slits of azure eyes that veritably glowed with seething hate. The other's tearing eyes looked on in terror.
"Maybe I'll start right here."
"You can't!" Vincent desperately cried, roughly grabbing the winged being's hand. "There are innocents down there! Thousands of-"
"Six hundred and two thousand, five hundred nineteen souls not counting your own."
The elderly Lord's eyes widened. "You wouldn't..."
"You care about their fates."
"But your kind are supposed to be followers of the path of righteousness!"
Yanking his wrist free of Lord VonWinner's grip, the Solar snarled, "This IS righteousness! Righteousness and good are what I determine them to be!"
"You... you're mad..."
"And I've got you to thank for it. Congratulations, Lord Vincent VonWinner; you're not only the first to ever capture one of my kind, you're the first to drive a Celestial insane. How does it feel? How proud are you of this accomplishment?"
Vincent bowed his head remorsefully.
"And now, hundreds of thousands must die for your error."
"Why...?" he softly whispered.
"Because it will hurt you. And I want to hurt you. I want to keep hurting you until you beg me for death."
Turning away from the shivering mage, the Solar grinned, his smile screaming of malice. "Let this city reflect your soul, Noble Lord. Let it fall and burn."
"Say farewell to your beloved City of Splendors!"
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Trowa stared, his emerald eyes huge upon his paled face. All bodily pains forgotten, the acrobat leaps from the back of his magically conjured steed and ran towards the huge structure that made up the East Gate of Waterdeep. His feet raced over the ground, pounding loudly through the lush spring grass. And coming to crest the small hill that gave him the slightest glimpse of Castle Waterdeep's tallest spire he came to a stop, watching in horrified fascination and complete awe.
Moments later Duo and Heero were at his side, both still mounted. Wufei appeared before them but moments later, seeming to simply ooze forth from the shadows of the approaching night.
All four were trapped by the utter beauty and sheer terror that emitted from the sight they watched.
"We're too late," Heero softly whispered.
Nothing could have diverted Trowa's eyes as he watched the lithe, nude boy lift his left hand, right pointing over the City accusingly, giant white wings spread to either side of his lean body. Lifting those huge feathered wings to arc grandly above his blonde head he raised his gaze to the heavens.
Everyone yelped, rubbing their eyes as the flash of lightening erupted from the clear blue skies to meet Quatre's upraised hand then channeled through him to burst from the fingertips of his right hand, arching and sparking gracefully through the air before swinging earth-bound and slamming with devastating force into the sprawling buildings below his perch.
The smell of burning wood and flesh accompanied the screams of the terrified and dying in the clouds of fiery smoke and dust.
"My God," Duo whispered. He willingly leaned back into Heero's suddenly present protective embrace, his body shaking.
Heero remained silent, the only hint of his worry being the tightness of the grip he kept upon the mage before him, forcing their bodies together. His dark blue eyes narrowed, Heero softly said, "He's going to destroy it all. The entire city."
"Why?" Duo asked, still watching in fascinated horror. Feeling Heero shrug, he frowned.
"Revenge."
"Revenge?" Glancing down at the onyx-eyed psionisist, the mage arched a brow.
Trowa crossed his arms. "Yes. Revenge."
"But... destroying the entire city? And everyone in it?"
Snorting, Wufei glanced up at Duo. "What would you do if Heero were slaughtered by a demon? A demon who retreated into its home plane, its home city, to escape your wrath?"
"Kill it."
"And if you couldn't pinpoint it in that city of thousands?"
"Talkin' demons?"
"Yes."
"Kill 'em, too."
Wufei nodded. "Then you can not judge him."
"But they're humans! Elves! Dwarves! Innocent people being slaughtered because Quatre's throwing a snit fit!"
"We're his demons, Duo."
"W... what?"
Everyone stared at the Easterner as he nodded. "We are his demons. We, humankind, are what drew him from the heavens with magic he could not fight. Humans are what have kept him prisoner upon his dreary, corporeal world of lackluster life and faithlessness, locking the power which to him is as necessary to normal life as breathing is to ours, making that very city before us a jail to hold him. No one would help him. No one would free him. No one would give him their ear to listen to his crying. Humans were wicked enough to keep him as a test subject and trinket rather than simply letting him return home as he wished or giving him the gracious mercy and honor of death. To him, they are as terrible as the most sinister of demons. We are his demons."
"And that's why he wants to slaughter us all."
Trowa bowed his head. "But in doing so, he's reducing himself to our level, committing our sin."
"And slaying thousands of innocents," Heero murmured, still holding Duo tightly. "He must be stopped."
"I don't know if he can be. He appears to be enjoying himself," Duo whispered.
"He can't be," Trowa mouthed.
"Look at him, Barton. He is, as Maxwell said, enjoying himself."
Trowa cringed as he heard the voice of the Angelic being standing atop the East Tower of Castle Waterdeep laugh insanely, his light yet manic tone barely audible over the roar of the raging fires and screams of the panicked people below him that he'd succeeded in creating. As Trowa watched, the Solar flapped his giant wings but once and leapt from the Tower's battlements, catching the hot wind and soaring above. Folding his wings, he dove towards the streets, scimitar in hand, like a bird of prey screaming towards its prey.
"Duo. Can't you do anything?" Trowa softly whispered.
"Against a Solar? Fuck no. They're so beyond me on the power scale that it ain't even funny."
"Heero?"
"I no longer even have a sword, my friend. What could I do? Poke him to death with my dagger? I doubt that it would touch him, as it doesn't carry any hint of magic upon its blade."
"Wufei?"
Arching a brow, the psionisist huffed. "You truly think that I long to tie my mind with that insane brain? Besides, he's my superior in every fashion when it comes to the powers of the mind - it would be like pitting a seasoned warrior against a babe with a wooden sword. And with his marvelous control, he'd be able to direct my actions if I tried to physically attack him if he so desired, making me naught but his tool. I can not fight him."
Trowa stared. 'There's no way to stop him. Waterdeep is going to fall.'
'And when he comes to his senses, he's going to hate himself for it.'
'I've got to keep that from happening. He'll... he'll...'
'I've got to save him from himself!'
Trowa watched as the Angel burst free from the restraints of gravity, giant white wings flapping with huge downward swipes, flashes of gray from the polluting color that laced their spans visible to even human eyes. Arrows flew from the towers and streets below, but were easily deflected by the swirling winds created by the massive wings. With another laugh, Quatre dove. Dust exploded into the air with fire and smoke swiftly following.
The nimble acrobat burst into a run, making his way as swiftly towards the crumbling East Gate as he could.
'I've got to stop you. Sorry, but I've got to save you. Because...'
'Because I love you.'
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"No! Gods, please stop!" Leaning over the battlements, Vincent VonWinner stared with horrified tears in his eyes as his former prisoner ravaged the city he called home.
Are you enjoying this? the Solar's voice cackled in the depths of his mind, The death and destruction? The chaos and misery? The knowledge that everyone here will know that it was your doing that I am here destroying their lives?
"Stop. Please! Stop!"
NEVER!
Lord VonWinner screamed as the Celestial being spread his wings and drew his weapon through the hot, howling air in a bright silvery arc of light to cleanly cleave the head off the body of a small human child that was toddling by before silencing the screaming mother with a burst of /Burning Hands/.
The wizened mage sobbed as her ashes flew on the fire-driven breeze.
Be thankful that I am merciful enough to slay them quickly. Be thankful that I am not so heartless as to make them suffer as I have.
Biting back his retort, Lord VonWinner blinked away the tears that plagued him as he brought his hands forward, fingers spread. "/Death Fog/" he shouted, snarling as the last of the sickly green cloud erupted from his fingertips. The huge cloud of gas crawled over the Solar, engulfing him completely.
Lord VonWinner stared as it faded as quickly as he'd formed it.
Ahem. /Dispell Magic/. Must love that spell, neh?
"Damn..."
Now, let me show you how /Death Fog/ is truly supposed to work!
The elderly mage fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands as that green cloud appeared again, larger and thicker than before, growing to bury the entire city in its deadly fumes.
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Quatre smiled as he heard screams and gagging flow from his surroundings as the /Death Fog/ cloud settled into place.
'They deserve this. Every last one of them. Every last human on this world deserves this for the misery they have caused me.'
Tears tricked from his eyes, even as his grin remained in place.
'We are superior. We are immortal. We are blessed with power beyond reckoning. We have no use for these mortal idiots. Especially not mortal idiots who don't answer cries for help, who turn their backs on the desperate innocents who need their caring. Especially not mortal idiots who would congratulate a man for imprisoning another creature that would have done him no harm provided he'd just let that creature go home. Especially not mortal idiots who'd imprison another being to study it and prod at it. Especially not those who'd just turn away, not those who offer to help with the experiments, not those who want its imprisonment to continue so they can benefit from the atrocities of those experiments as well!'
'I have no use for them! They all deserve death!'
'We don't need peace. We don't need coexistence.'
'What we need...'
'To destroy them all...'
'What we need is a WAR!'
'I'll destroy them. I'll destroy them ALL!'
'Except those four.'
He blinked, letting his /Death Fog/ spell finally fall. Staring at his eerily silent surroundings, his smile fading, he ignored the wet trails that coursed down his cheeks.
'Because, despite everything I did to them, they were kind. They helped me when I needed help. They kept me company when I was alone. They cared when I didn't...'
'Especially him.'
Quatre stiffened as he heard footsteps rapidly approaching him. Eyes instantly hard, he cracked his knuckles. Spreading his fingers, he held his hand aloft, smirking as golden light emanated from it.
'Heh. Guard's coming to attack me, eh? Thinks he's going to have the opportunity to attack me from behind?'
Turning sharply, crying the keyword for the divine magical spell he was calling into being as he pivoted, Quatre unleashed /Holy Strike/ even as he laid eyes upon his would-be 'attacker.'
And he screamed.
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The trio watched the glistening orb calmly, fully witness to the destruction taking place.
"I'm quite surprised that neither of you are attempting to stop this," the hooded golden-eyed observer stated, his tenor voice flowing from the shadows that obscured his face.
Elminster quietly chuckled. "Neither of us are idiotic enough to face an enraged Solar. Only you are foolhardy enough to attempt such."
"Oh really?"
The other older man sporting a gristly black beard and dark, critical eyes nodded. "Yes. As my name is Blackstaff, I do proclaim such to be true."
"Hmph," the cloaked and hooded being grunted. "But don't you two care about all of the innocent people that are being slaughtered?"
"It is an unfortunate loss. However, it is one that was destined to happen," Elminster said quietly. "History has been leading to this."
"Waterdeep has assumed too much power," Blackstaff said, "and thereby sealed its fate. Power and corruption are all that city is in spirit these days."
"It is no longer our City of Splendors. That marvel fell long ago," Elminster clarified.
"Besides, the Solar will not slay everyone," Blackstaff said. "You'll note that his attacks are slowing."
"And you'll note that his lover is going to get himself murdered."
"What!" both older men yelped, leaning forward to peer into the orb's depths.
The hooded man nodded. "Heh. 'So long, Waterdeep.' Fuck that. More like 'So long, Faerun.' Without the promise of having that boy..."
"He'll delve further into insanity," Elminster whispered.
"The entire Realms could be doomed," Blackstaff grunted.
Rising from his seat, the cloaked man snorted. "Meaning he's got to be stopped."
Laying his wrinkled hand upon the hooded being's sleeve, Elminster cocked a bushy white eyebrow. "However, lad, slaying him could make the situation worse than it already is."
"Eh?"
"Solars are-"
"Shit. Communal." Bowing his head, the cloaked man snorted. "Meaning that slaying one rends the barriers that hold them the hell out of our Realms and lets them bring their full numbers upon us, all ready and willing for vengeance."
"Yes."
Shoving back his hood the half-drow turned to Elminster, black bangs settling over one golden eye. "So what do you suggest?"
Elminster bowed his head.
And arching a brow Blackstaff muttered, "It all rests on that boy, doesn't it?"
"Aa."
"Rescue him and we rescue the Realms."
They cringed as they heard the Solar's heart-wrenching scream.
"Too late."
Blackstaff grunted. "Do not doubt, Shard. It is never too late."
"What do you mean?"
"It is never too late to save the soul."
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Quatre fell to his knees, staring straight ahead, tears pouring from his eyes as his shaking hands gripped his shoulders. Wings folding over him, enveloping him in their bloodstained gray-tinged white feathers, he sobbed. "Trowa...!"
The Solar didn't move as the crunch of boots stepping upon gravel approached him.
"Quatre."
Lifting his gaze, lifting a dusty, bloodied hand to wipe the tears from his eyes and thus unintentionally staining his face with smears of brown dirt and crimson vitae, the Angel stared. "Blackstaff..."
Nodding, the mage walked to the focal point of the Celestial's last spell. Glancing down, his heart nearly stopping as the grisly sight before him registered, he grimaced. "What have you done?"
"I... didn't mean..." the Solar desperately began, tears beginning to flow anew.
"You realize why this happened."
Quatre bowed his head.
He blinked as he heard the legendary mage murmur under his breath and felt the twisting of the Weave that supplied all magic surround them both.
A pale flash of white, stained by rays of blood red illumination, burst into being before Blackstaff's feet. "Come here, Quatre," he soothingly called.
Quatre slowly crawled over, eyes closed and wings limply laying in the dirt to his sides.
"Open your eyes."
"No."
"Why not, Angel?"
"I don't want to see..."
"The body is gone, Quatre."
Aquamarine eyes slowly opened. Gasping, Quatre stared.
Where Trowa Barton's mangled, lifeless body had been but moments before rested a clear, pure crystal orb who's center held a blood-red rose in full bloom who's dark green stem, sharp thorns and delicate leaves twisted and swirled behind it.
"What... what did you do...?"
Blackstaff smiled, resting a hand upon the beaten Angel's shoulder. "That orb contains Trowa's soul."
"The rose...?"
"Yes. The very embodiment of his spirit."
"But... why? Why did you do this?"
The mage closed his eyes. "To halt the fall of nobility."
Quatre stared.
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Lord Vincent VonWinner stared as well.
He held perfectly still as he felt the razor sharp edge of a weapon rest upon the back of his neck, its feather-light touch already raising a bubbling rush of blood to run down his skin, tracing along his spine underneath his clothing and staining the delicate silks he wore bright red.
"Who...?" he whispered.
"Rise," the being behind him ordered.
Doing as told, the elderly mage got to his feet, then turned around. He screamed.
Smirking, framed by the barest red light that flowed from the West skies and the sun which had finished sliding into the ocean, the half- drow chuckled and let his grin broaden to display the viciously elongated fangs that marked him to be of the ranks of the undead.
Lord VonWinner stood completely frozen with fright as the vampire with golden eyes stepped forward. "You... you're...!"
"Erik Shard."
"Assa...ssin..."
"Yep."
"But...!"
His fanged smile turning a touch more demented, the half-drow calmly ran his fingers through his black hair. "Worry not, old man. I've been instructed to spare your pathetic life. No feed for the hungry tonight."
"Then..."
"I'm just here to fetch you. There're some high-ups in Mystra's clergy who'd really love to have a talk with you."
Vincent gulped.
"And once they're done with you..."
Standing perfectly still, the mage dared not breathe as the dark-elven vampire lightly caressed his cheek with deathly cold lips, fangs delicately scraping blood-drained flesh and raising angry welts with their passing.
"You're mine."
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"Through this action, you have tarnished yourself. While your reasons are sound and your rage justified, your focus has been completely lost and thus the direction of your anger miscalculated. We know he captured you. We know he held you against your will. We know he tested you, experimented on you, tortured you. We recognize that, against him, your bitterness and desire to slaughter are justified completely. Even one of your kind, of your extraordinary attributes, can be expected to feel this way. Any being, no matter how great or insignificant, would feel the same."
Closing his eyes, Blackstaff sighed.
"However, you blamed all of humanity for the wrongs of one man. And with such, not only have you cast yourself into the same mold as us judgmental mortals, you have made yourself less than even us insignificant humans."
"You have done nothing but learn to hate."
"Trowa was beginning to change that, but your hatred has brought that to an end."
Fighting back tears, Quatre stared at the orb. "What would you have me do?"
"Become yourself."
Quatre looked at him questioningly.
"Solars, while servants of the true Gods, are also the love of the Gods. They do not personify simply their wrath, but also represent their caring. You, being the tender soul that you are, are no vessel of hate or rage. You are one of love. You are one whose appearance brings peace and happiness. Rediscover yourself. Come, once more, to love humanity as you did eons ago. Become the servant of both mortal and God as you were when you were first created."
"Why...?"
"Because then you can regain your happiness."
Bowing his head, shoulders shaking, Quatre shook his head.
"You doubt?"
"Yes."
"Because?"
"I loved."
"And your heart is his, and his alone?"
"And he is dead."
"He can return."
Quatre stared.
Blackstaff smirked. "Become humble once more. Become a servant of mortality once again. Then and only then will you be given the secret of that crystal orb. Then and only then will you find the one mortal who will be able to shatter my spell."
Turning his gaze to the orb, Quatre whispered, "There's hope...?"
"Yes. Your divine magic will never shatter it, but that of a mortal will set him free. Whether or not you will make that boy's life a reality once again is something I leave entirely up to you."
With a slow nod, Quatre tenuously reached for the orb. Laying his hands upon it, he smiled through his tears as he felt warmth flow from its center. And, gathering it into his arms, he clutched it in a tight embrace.
Hot tears splashed against its smooth surface as the human mage vanished.
"Trowa..."
to be concluded...
