Occult Progression First Sunrise Of The Void

Heeding the vision of the Black Dragon, people from all walks of life, though mostly shared around Draga Ifrit, arrived near the Emporium. Above, the Black Dragon, now commonly known as the Avatar of Draga Ifrit, still looked weak and in a tired posture atop the spires. It craned its head downwards as if it was about to expire, only to open its mouth, and spew forth a black and red bile that crashed onto the floor below, like a waterfall. The spectators took a few steps back not to touch this unknown substance, even if some might have had that funny little voice in the back of their head tell them to jump into or lick the substance.

Amari Sannon, Sevrince Valwroaght, Valas Dyrr, Sylvius Umbra, Hessolis, Kauket Ravajor’elle-Lykke, Argo Drrsal, Wasa Singhateh and Coren Isil were first to arrive, watching the pool as nothing but a fizzling and bubbling red and black tarpit. Then as the Archbloods Camilla, Avaineiral Rilynnlues and Breothric arrived, the pit started undulating, the mass appearing as if there were hands and faced trapped underneath that attempted to escape but could not piece the elastic surface. Alek Silver-Tongue reached around a corner, scanning the faces of all present. It was not only the mentionables that were familiar, the Archblood and Rokhaal, but also entirely unknown people, average citizens who had gotten caught up in the Vampiric events, and switched allegiances.

It was then also that the other Vampires arrived, Reimar of Calembergh and Haqet, trailed by smaller groups of Vampires who had thrown their lot in with Draga Ifrit following the events of the Sanguine Ocular. And finally, Osira Braewanyir, Nkosi and Liara Mogun arrived, just in time to watch the Avatar of Draga Ifrit atop New Crookback Emporium expire properly, seeming exhausted and spent, the Dragon’s body disintegrated into ash and rained down in a gentle almost snow-like flurry, blanketing the area, but also making the coalescing winds visible as they approached the pond it had puked onto the ground below.

The surface finally ruptured, a single clawed hand reaching out, before the whole of Draga Ifrit climbed from the pool, long hair clung to his shoulders and back, and the radiant light emanating from the shards of red crystal where his wings would have been, as if they were clipped a long time ago. After taking his first breaths, he formed a crystalline crown over his skull, the shape of horns turned back, and a bright red glowing crystal set on his forehead, before he gazed to those present, the heat as if birthed from a volcano still steaming off of him.

For his imposing presence, Draga Ifrit spoke with a slippery and melodious voice, not one of rough and gruff drawls, but a smooth and silky voice that one could fall asleep to telling tales of lands far away. The first words he uttered: “Eleven thousand years, eleven thousand years I’ve been trapped in this infested putrid prison, and finally, the long plan comes to fruition.” He raised his hands, creating a mirror above him large enough from which all could see. When this mirror was made, Void Mages, Void-Attuned Ezekiel, Void Corrupted Archblood and Primal Mages all received the same vision of what was happening here, and from this point onwards.

The surface of the mirror rippled like a still pond in which a stone was hurled, to the image of a deep and dense jungle, large wooden structures with spiraling roofs and colorful feathers adorned. In the distance, an acidic lake, its water yellow green of bile, having eaten away at the plant matter around it. Yet in the middle, reflections of golden-clad temples and palaces, rooves of a city long abandoned and murdered into nothingness, from which no lights or bustle would come, choked by the noxious gasses that surrounded this place of wonder. The viewing point panned to the other side, two massive bone Dragons the size of mountains, held together by wrappings of Void curses and twisted flesh, acid leaking from every orifice and notably their empty eye sockets, curled around an altar behind which tens of thousands of Allar stood, some in ceremonial Void-Allar armor, some in chains. It was unmistakable to those who had been in the defense of Hadar, they were watching the prisoners from the islands the Sendrassians had taken, and the deluge that was about to befall the Void-Allar, though they did not yet know.

Priests at the altar initiated some kind of ritual, the Dragons moving in tandem seemingly casting all manner of twisted Primal spells, and in that moment a cacophony of agony and screams arove, the Allar prisoners died in the tens of thousands on the spot, their souls ripped from their bodies in twisted fear, The souls turned visible, wisps of white dragged to the altar, turning red as they went and gathering into a large ball of red light around which the Allar priests chanted and summoned. They seemed to just be ready to complete the ritual until an interruption came, Void-Allar horns blew, and from the tree line a massive wave of Silverlances rode forth, a cloud of white dust in the wake of the hooves of their steeds, bright white-glowing lances trained forward as a hail of blue glowing arrows flew overhead and mowed down the first rows of Void-Allar that tried to form up ranks.

The Silverlances cried out to Talea as they crashed into the ranks like a wave of pure white light, Void-Allar breaking left and right, though the corrupted Dragon bones responding from behind and descending onto the Silverlances. From the sky, great thunder-birds carried gondolas filled with mages, casting fire and water down at the Dragons from above, and from below, Altalar soul-rend cannons moved into position to open fire a barrage on the nearest Dragon. Yet, Draga Ifrit made clear that this was not a watching match to cheer on the victory of the Altalar. He moved his hand, panning the view of the mirror to the altar, where the Allar priests continued undisturbed, completing their final incantation, sending a shockwave across the battlefield that was unfolding before them, and causing a bellowing rumble to overtake all other noises. The ball of red light shot to the sky where it crashed into the night sky like a cannonball on glass.

It flung in the direction of Oxoron, the purple Celestial body in the sky, causing a violent explosion that caused part of the sky to fracture like a mirror breaking. The Altalar despaired, whatever they had come to halt had in fact happened anyway, and they started a disorganized retreat, Silverhelms falling into the dirt and being crushed by Dragonbone as they fled. The mirror’s view panned then and moved with great speed across the horizon, following the crack in the night sky, of which the Celestial Body Oxoron was the epicenter. The crack formed further and further, the mirror flying over Hadar, the Slizzar city of Sassrakkand below, the Ailor Moors, until at the very southern tip of the Regalian Isle, where the crack seemed to halt, a tiny crack still visible only at night. Draga Ifrit pointed at it, then bellowing “Here is our chance”. And just like that, all those present detached from the ground, as if gravity had ceased, pulled towards the crack with ever increasing speed until all, including Draga Ifrit were flung into it, and everything went black.

The Mages left behind felt it all, the Veil break, the sudden flush of Void Essence into the world, and especially the Primal Mages were hardest hit. Such massive ritualistic death all in a single second weighed heavy on their hearts, like a heart attack that they survived but still felt all the pain of, an inexplicable sense of dread in the air around them and an inability to look in the direction of the crack in the sky. But their ordeal was not yet over. Just like the other Void touched (Void Sorcerers, Void Mages, Void attuned Cratos, Ezekiel and Crimson witches etc), Draga Ifrit made them watch what was about to happen next.

Wasa Singhateh existed in a state of non-existence. He tried to speak, but no sound came. He tried to touch, but found he could not even find his limbs. He tried to see, but only darkness existed. All senses were devoid of reaction, but even worse. The experience could not be described in a way that Alorians could understand, as this realm was so alien to theirs. It was not as if a blind person could not see, but as if the concept of optical reality simply did not exist. What they “saw” was not so much darkness, because darkness implied the absence of light, but instead they “saw” non-existence, a black darkness that was fabricated by their mind to attach understanding to the unexplainable.

And in this nothingness, there was suddenly a single light. Draga Ifrit’s crown lit up, and shortly after his whole body became visible, devoid of color, sound and warmth, but with light and shape nonetheless. He opened his mouth, and while no words flowed at first, sound eventually formed and then words. The light on his crown radiated brighter, and where there was no sense of cold or warmth, heat could suddenly be felt. His position in this black nothingness suddenly declared an orientation, an upright and a downward. It was as if the realm they had suddenly come into, was forming the concepts and laws of reality based on Draga Ifrit’s presence.

Before long, senses returned to those who had come with. Their eyes felt like eyes again, and their senses trickled back to existence one by one. The light on Draga Ifrit’s crown burst brighter, and a surface was created, at first shards of red hot glass, which then hardened and dried out to residual soil. Draga Ifrit stepped down onto this surface, as did all others, the surface being formed underneath them as if reality obeyed the need for something to stand on purely by the weight of their presence.

It was perhaps Osira who first of all realized what was going on, always asking questions and coming up with theories whether right or wrong. A curiosity in the back of Orisa’s mind spoke “Are we in the Void?” and indeed, Draga Ifrit seemed to confirm as much as he spoke of the non-exsistence he had suffered for eleven thousand years. It was also there that the Isldar present could see, the crack from which they came between dimensions, and in which Draga Ifrit had bent one of the Soul Rivers to inject Alorian Soul Essence into the Void, the very matter of Alorian reality that was now reshaping the laws of existence in the Void. Much like how Void Essence leaked into Aloria and broke the laws of physics there, Soul Essence now leaked into the Void, and enforced the Alorian laws of physics there.

Draga Ifrit finished his dramatic speech to those present by stating that “For thousands of years we watched as the Void took endless lives, billions upon billions caused by the infection of its own existence. Today is the first day of our revenge, today is the first day of the Void, today is the first sunrise of the Void. Today, is the first Primal invasion of the Void, vengeance for aeons of terror and corruption brought about by this fetid realm. Revenge is ours.” And with that, he threw his crown up into the sky, the light burning brighter and brighter until it emulated the sun in the real world, glowing with an eerie red and pink light, but its brightness casting rays of reality onto the landscape below, rapidly forming the landscape and its features, but also manifesting Void Essence around them.

This is what Draga Ifrit had brought his supporters in for, to fight, and be the first champions of the Primal Invasion of the Void. The Void Essence in the distance started coalescing, much like the ground underneath them taking shape based on the perception expectations of those present. Some of the essence shaped humanoid creatures but with horns and tails and claws, others yet formed around Avaineiral’s expectation of Morrlond’s Daphalar with fish-like features, and others yet formed around the childhood tales of Wasa, machines made out of magic and gears that ground and consumed flesh as they moved to power themselves. With their purpose clear, all those present geared up to defend the beach head from which Draga Ifrit was summoning more to push further, and create a foot-hold into the Void for his own plans.

Kauket led the charge, his magitech tower shield held forward as he bull rushed in, the smaller demonic entities in front of him being cast aside like a train without stopping. At its apex, he halted, revealing both Hessolis and Amari were charging in behind his shield. He tilted his shield to a 45 degree angle, allowing both Hessolis and Amari to jump off of it, leaping forward and arching their landing with furious punches, amping up their bodies with their powers to such force their punches split the demon faces in half. What followed was a fury of punches and kicks, intermittent with a massive slam of the tower shield back and forth, pushing back hordes of smaller creatures that tried to rush at the trio.

Further up, what looked like demonic archers with twisted crossbows formed up, only to be interrupted by Sevrince who blinked in from behind, impaling the nearest demonic crossbowman with his greatsword made of shadows, and just before he would pull the sword out, blinking to the next target, his sword already formed inside their torso and cleaving them in half. It was here that Valas also joined him, a cloud of dust forming from which he erupted, dagger poised with which he cut the arms and legs of several Crossbowmen, sliding underneath them, before disappearing into a puff of dust at the end and then re-appearing elsewhere to do the same again.

Reimar pushed off several demonic creatures at once, until he threw his greatsword at a nearby demon, then slamming both fists into the ground and slowly dragging them up, rivers of blood emanating from the demonic corpses, forming a mist of blood around him. He then formed them into pillars of blood mist from which Camilla, Alek and Osira were launched up into the air, and held atop pillars of blood by Reimar, giving them vantage point over the battlefield.

Camilla unfurled her crossbow, empowered by Draga Ifrit’s magic, each shot without needing a reload, sniping demons one by one as they rushed across the field to try and attack their allies. With each shot, the demon exploded into a cloud of black smoke. Alek meanwhile summoned circles of red-colored water which then turned to sea water, the first substance with a different color, before his sword slashed through it, unleashing waves of water to below with such force that spouts of water erupted from beneath the demons, where they were launched in the air and became excellent targets for Osira’s beams of dark and red void energy, intermitted with missile-like projectiles that picked off each opponent as they reached the zenith of their jump.

Wasa had unfurled his flaming hair, teaching the Void the meaning of fire, as his spear thrust into Demon after Demon, with Laria covering his back. Each time a demon tried to ambush him, she would grapple and smash it into the ground, before twisting and turning, ejecting throwing knives in all directions to those who might even consider try and approach her from behind, while Sylvius dashed by, pile-driven by several Demons into a corner, yet erupting to wield dual shadow swords with which he eviscerated the enemies that tried to outnumber him.

Argo formed a Sollerian Mist though which he provided cover for Coren, who traveled the battlefield rending Demon after Demon and converting their corpses or near-death bodies to aid their side. With each rend he grew, while Argo’s weapon song caused multiple weapons to appear, dancing around Coren to any demon lucky enough to find him in the mist.

Before long, one of the greater Demons appeared, unmistakable Abaghellon, the beast whose skull was like that of a hound, its chest a massive maw rowed with teeth and a body poised for battle. It was massive, far greater than any of those present and even Draga Ifrit, but Coren was able to match, having rended so many that he could initiate a wrestling match with the Void God, empowered by Draga Ifrit, blessing him to distract Abaghellon for his master.

Just as Abaghellon seemed to be gaining the upper hand, striking massive-Coren with his tail, a shield flew in with great speed, hitting Abaghellon in the head and cracking part of his skull-like visage, casting him to the ground. Breothric caught the shield on the way back, and then proceeded to bash in the skull of a nearby Demon. Flocks of cat and dog-like ravens flew by, with bodies of cats and dogs but heads and wings like ravens, clawing at the demons, and in the middle, a furor of attacks and slices as Haqet had been beset with a bloodlust to fight all on their own, surrounded by the maelstrom of fur and feathers that danced in tandem.

Finally, it was Avaineiral facing off against another greater demon, its fiery eyes locked on him and its claws poised. As battle commenced, Avaineirall’s tail unleashed a flurry of paralyzing stabs, the creature recoiling while his sword hammered at the demon’s hard armor. Then just as he had the demon on the backfoot, Nkosi came from behind, clawing his way up the Demon’s back, before snapping its neck from behind, gliding down with the body as it fell, and then slamming its head into a pulp in the ground for good measure.

All played their part in establishing the beach head. Other Vampires and Rokhaal as well as Draga Ifrit cultists formed ranked around Draga Ifrit who continued to push more Primal Soul Essence into the Void to create a reality around them, vegetation and critters, weather and air, water and sand, a whole world was unfurling around them. The Void was forced to have shape and laws of reality, and the Void Essence hated it. It coiled and screamed in protest to reality being forced upon itself, and violently bit back as it continued sending waves of Demons.

After several hours of fighting, the beach head had been established, and Draga Ifrit’s creations could continue fighting on their own. Rokhaal from the Oscithar lands had also appeared, as portals opened in their homelands to bring forth more soldiers, and his first called to arms were given reprieve, sent back to Regalia through the crack where they could rest and recover, confident in the knowledge that Draga Ifrit had now well begun the Primal Invasion of the Void. Something that had never happened in the existence of ever. And all because a single individual decided that they wanted to change the course of history, and give the Sanguine Ocular to someone who others had disavowed.