My Beloved Son and Heir | Boss Battle | Susano'o Ezofuji [MYTHIC] {Closed Except for Loola, Dances With Derp, Kouzai}

The man with long dark hair pushed against the veil.  His aim was to break it.  To enter the Frozen Wastes of the Spirit World.  To reclaim what was rightfully his.  His power.  His army.  His people.  He would bring forth Armageddon.  He would be the one to end this world and remake it in his own image.  That is what he had to do.  That is what the whispers in his head told him was necessary.  Told him what had to be achieved to attain true peace.  As he pressed against the veil between the worlds he could hear the voice of his father ringing in his head.


The voice of his father was nothing but a ghost of his past.  A ghost that promised nothing but empty dreams and broken promises.  The ghost of a liar.  Of a traitor.  Who sold his birthright to the youngest son.  Who turned on him when all he wanted was salvation.  His father had been unfortunately narrow sighted.  What was worse...that narrow sight was passed down to his younger brother and sister.  His father's second heir.  It should've been him.  It should've been the me.  Finally, in his boiling rage he felt the veil crack.  He was through.


Susano'o stood on the massive glacier.  Snow fell from the sky.  The sun was blocked out by the grey clouds.  The wind howled through the mountains and the glaciers and up from the howling fjord.  He took a few steps forward, feeling the cold whip around him, feeling the energy of the Spirit World course through him.  He could feel something massive, something powerful.  Susano'o knelt down, and swiped away the layer of snow that covered the massive block of ice and smiled wickedly as he saw what was trapped in the ice.


The voice echoed again and Susano'o stood vindictively, as if he was hoping to show his father just how wrong he was.  Standing, Susano'o drew his blade.  The blade that had pierced his father's chest.  He could remember it like it was yesterday. "What are you doing son?" "Succeeding you."  Susano'o could remember the blade as it crunched through bone, the look in his father's eyes as he died.  The feel of his blood leaking over Susano'o's blade and hands.  Susano'o followed that up by killing two more royals at the first Summit.  Then he finished by killing his brother's girlfriend and lover.  Revenge.  And part of the plan.


The snow hit Susano'o blade and he could see the blood on his blade, even though it was clean.  It was crimson in his eyes, and he smiled.  He had killed Fyre because he had already taken what he wanted.  He took her demon.  Pyro.  He took it, his first and greatest ally, and he used the demon to nearly destroy the Southern Water Tribe.  There he killed his aunt Tekara.  There he killed Queen Skye, his father's ex-girlfriend and ally.  The woman he could've called mother.  There he met his wife, his lover.  The only person he ever cared for.  Tsukaia.  


Rage welled up in Susano'o's stomach as he thought of her.  How she died.  He held it in, his sword glowed a heavenly blue and he drove it deep into the ice.  The ice cracked, glowing with the power in Susano'o's blade.  Behind him the ice shattered, the wind blew outward from him and sent the snow whirling away from him.  The ice shattered.  First one claw, then another, then another.  Then the flames.  Then, there stood the flaming demon, Pyro, behind Susano'o.


Pyro glared down at his master, a wicked smile on his face.  He laughed wickedly and walked behind his master towards the cliff.  Susano'o let a call out on the wind and waited.  He knew they would come.  They would always come.  With a wry smile he laughed as he knew he was right.  Though the sound was lost to the howling wind.


Pyro and Susano'o looked down at the army of undead below him.  They were endless.  They were unable to die.  They were expendable.  They were his.  His military.  His conquerors.  His people.  They always had been.  With them, and with Pyro, he would take the Spirit World, and then the Physical World.  He woul find the Well of the Old Gods, as the whispers of his ancestors told them.  He needed the power of the well.  He needed it to get stronger.  To take what was his.  To bring peace to the world.  Pyro let out a massive roar and the army below returned the call, crying the rattle of death up to their leader and his servant.  It was time.


And Susano'o was.  Now the King would conquer.  He would have a land to rule, and no one could stop him.  His brother was dead, his sister was dead, his family was now none the wiser of his existence.  They too would die, and pay, in time.  Long live the King.

Spoiler:

Yami blinked her eyes for a few seconds. Where was she? There was nothing but ice and snow as far as the eye could see. Well, except for a giant army of undead soldiers. That was there. But how the heck did Yami even get there? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in a tree somewhere in the Vermilion Empire, where it's anything BUT cold. How did she get to the middle of a tundra?

Yami stared down at the body shaped indent she had left in the snow. She shuddered as the shape of the indent looked less like her own body and more like a smaller version of Kokuo, a cold reminder that the spirit was always with her, even in her sleep. Her hammer lay next to the indent, and she felt a small spark of relief. She hadn't had a chance to use that hammer yet, and she was glad to have it with her in case that army in the distance ever became a problem.

Yami closed her eyes for a moment, realizing something was different. This wasn't just a frigid tundra. The air was different. It didn't take Yami long to realize that it was spiritual energy. The air was full of it. It was so thick, it almost hurt to touch it. It felt as though she had become a pressure center for the energy, a small amount of it gathering around her. She didn't like it one bit. Kokuo was also restless. [i]I don't like this place. The Spirit World may be my home, but it's not one I wish to return to. Too close to the Spirit King, if you ask me. He probably knows you're here, by the way. Yami made a frustrated face. Nobody but Kokuo could bring the already depressing mood Yami was in even lower.

------------------------------------------------

Cold winds and harsh snow pelted Bo as he rose from the snow covered ground. The last thing he could remember was that he was on his way to steal back some family's heirloom that was stolen. The new lighting made Bo squint. He pushed himself up off the ground and brushed the snow from his clothes and hair. Bo pulled his hood up to give his poor ears a little comfort in the brittle cold.

Not knowing where he was, was the one thing Bo hated the most. He created a small blade from the shadow he left on the ground and gripped it tightly in his left hand. Should anything sneak up on him, he would be right there to kill it. Bo heard a strange noise echo through the blizzard. What was that?

Bo looked to his right and saw a strange girl standing. Why was she here? And what was she looking at? Bo felt a disturbance in the air. Something was off. Bo didn’t know exactly what it was, but he knew that there was an absurd amount of spiritual energy around him. He shuddered at the odd energy. 
The snow became stronger and more angry. Bo lifted his hand to cover his eyes. He could only see so far, but what he could see terrified him. Silhouettes loomed in front of him. Hundreds from what he could tell. Bo raised his shadow blade and anticipated a fight.

Malfurion frowned as he felt a foreign presence enter the Spirit World.  The frozen wastes.  The chanting in the head of this presence was familiar to him.  The same presence in the head of his brother.  The same evil.  The same twisted malice.  Malfurion could see it.  An army of undead raised from the ice.  A massive demon of flame, Pyro, freed and now aiming to burn everything to the ground.  Malfurion had sealed Pyro away personally for the Spirit King.  Locked him within the Frozen Wastes.

Now Pyro's former master had come to reclaimed him. "Susano'o..." said Malfurion to himself.  The presence was unmistakable.  He had returned.  He had returned for his army.  To conquer.  The Kingslayer.  Bane of the Fire Lord.  The Fallen King.  Susano'o was back and Malfurion would need to defeat him.  Malfurion could hear the warning horn blow, telling everyone of the return of Susano'o and the freeing of Pyro.  It was a warning.  Malfurion had a duty now.  He was the keeper of the Spirit World, of Mt. Karabor, of the Frozen Wastes.  It was his job.  He had a duty.

Malfurion bid goodbye to his love Tyrandé and teleported himself to the Frozen Wastes.  There he saw two others.  Both were strong of spirit.  One looked immortal.  Dark Bender.  Powerful though.  Blessed by the Spirit King twice.  Once many years ago, and once just now.  Malfurion could see it with his Spirit Bending.  He could read the Spiritual Energy of the Dark Bender like a book.  Then came the girl.

Young, an infant in Malfurion's eyes.  Then again, so was the Dark Bender.  He was ten thousand years old; more than. These humans were nothing in his eyes, but they were here to help.  Then Malfurion saw why the Spiritual Energy of the Water and Fire Bending child was so strong.  Why he felt so much hate coming from her.  Why he felt wrong near her.  Malfurion glared at the child.  Poor child.  Who would do that to you.  Malfurion knew what the humans had done.  He knew what the imprisoned within this child's flesh.  Horrid.

Malfurion calmed his rage and aimed to direct it towards Susano'o.  The three of them looked over at Susano'o and his army and Pyro.  Malfurion cared not of the other stared at him, and his antlers, and his feathered wings, and his green hair laced with vines like his beard, or his purple skin and glowing blue tattoos.  Nor his long pointy ears, or his white glowing eyes, or his bear-like feet.  Malfurion had been changed by the Spirit World.  He was proud of it.  Not ashamed.

He looked back at the two humans, looking down at them from his seven and a half foot tall height.  "The horn has sounded, and I have come as promised. I smell the stench of decay and corruption in our land. That angers me greatly."  That was all Malfurion said to them.  He left it at that.

Yami finally spotted another person with her. She was surprised that she hadn’t noticed him upon her original examination of the area. He looked to be a younger man, probably in his twenties, but it appeared that his appearance appeared to give him that appearance falsely. Yami could see in his eyes that he had been through a lot, had trained a lot, had worked and fallen through his share of struggles in life, and was still standing. Yami nodded solemnly in his direction. She hoped he was an ally. He seemed to give off an aura of power.

Yami jumped back as somebody appeared a few feet in front of her. She gave a surprisingly girly yelp of surprise, covering her mouth quickly. Kokuo was laughing hysterically. Wow, you have about as much grace as a drunken monkey. No, wait, a drunken monkey would be more graceful than- Kokuo stopped, but unlike the silence that she left behind when she lost insterest in talking to Yami, her breathing was still audible. She seemed to be focused on the strange creature that had appeared. No...it can’t be… Yami was curious, but decided she’d better study the being before wondering where Kokuo knew him...it? From.

Yami’s first intuition was that it was a draconiquus, but decided against that notion. From Yami’s various studies into human history, she had come across the mythical creature a few times. A draconiquus was a hodge podge of many different animals, usually with the body of a serpent and limbs of various creatures, with the head of a small dragon. The being in front of her was different. It’s body seemed...almost human. It was as though whatever it was had been a human once, but had changed into its current form.

Yami, do not trust him. He won’t hurt you now, but don’t provoke him. He is no ally of mine. Yami, of course, paid no heed to Kokuo’s words. All she needed to do was not provoke him. He didn’t seem to have any kind of malice towards her, though he did study her intently upon his arrival. Then he said a few words that didn’t really make much sense to Yami. It seemed as though he was speaking to nobody in particular. But the one thing Yami did get out of what he was saying was that he knew what was going on. “Um, excuse me, but can you explain what’s going on here, and how I even got here?”

Trace stood at her forge as she inspected the rare metal that had come out of the forge red flame hot, her welding mask shielding her eyes from the bright glow of the ember-lite hammer. She had to get it perfect, or she wouldn't be taken seriously anymore. Not that her brother took her seriously, but after the tournament prize was announced as her making, the shop had seen more curious customers coming in to look at the different wares. The shield that matched the hammer by request was already in the corner waiting to be picked up, but the hammer was being a bit more difficult. She wanted to forge the metal around the wooden handle without burning or charring the wood or weakening the metal. She had almost had it finished when out of nowhere a gleam seemed to come from the forge. 

At first, Trace believed she had accidentally left something too close to the forge and it caught, or that her clothes had caught aflame. Explosions were common in forges, and she wasn't the only blacksmith using that forge that day. However, when the light disappeared and her sight came back to her, she couldn't find any marking of fire or flame anywhere on her clothes. Looking up at her surroundings, Trace gasped. Had the forge exploded so fast that she was dead? If this was what the afterlife looked like, Trace couldn't believe any of the Air Nation Monks would wish for this life. 

There was destruction all around her, the demon looking creatures standing in front of her reeking chaos on the ice and it's people. Two people stood in front of her, looking at the creatures with her. "I've died. I've done something incredibly stupid and died before finishing that stupid hammer. Well, nothing I can do about it now, I suppose." Trace said as she walked toward the other two people standing there. "What do you mean, what are we going to do. We are dead, there's not much we can do." 

Trace looked at the both of them and realized they were ready to fight something. "Unless, we aren't actually dead...." Trace thought about the idea for a moment before a wicked little grin came across her face. She pulled out her wrench from her pocket and looked back at the demon creature. "So, if we aren't dead then that means....." Trace's smiled began to get a bit bigger as she looked over everything. "All I have to do is kill that thing to get back to work on that stupid hammer!!!" 

Malfurion stroked his large, green beard, fingering several of the vines and leaves like they were strands of hair.  He curled them upon his large purple finger.  These humans could only have been brought here to the Spirit World by one man.  The Spirit King.  But would they remember the Spiritborne man they encountered?  The Spiritborne spent thousands of years erasing traces of themselves throughout history.  They were a private, secretive people.  They did not like humans coming into their lands.  Destroying.  Taking.  Burning.

But at the same time, the Spirit King knew this, and would not send these humans here if they were not trust worthy.  Even Malfurion had to admit, he could not take on Susano'o, and undead army, and the former highest ranking general of Lord Magmaros' Burning Legion.  With a sigh, Malfurion looked down from his seven and a half foot height to his new temporary allies.  "You are in the Spirit World," he started off plainly and simple.  His voice was a mix between a stern tone and a gentle whisper.  His voice was strong, deep yet calm, relaxed and warm.  "You were no doubt brought here by the Spirit King to fight against Susano'o."

Malfurion raised a large, bushy brow.  "You do know who Susano'o is correct?" he wondered; just to be safe he would give them a bit of back story.  "He was once the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation.  Son of Fire Lord Kouzai II, brother of Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi, two future Fire Lords and heroes in their own right.  But he was corrupted from a young age by old and dark magics.  Dark powers that you cannot begin to comprehend or understand.  He became a traitor to the world.  A murderer.  He bound the demon Pyro to him, taking from Lord Magmaros his greatest champion.  He murdered Skye, queen of the Southern Water Tribe and burned the tribe to the ground.  He killed his aunt, Tekara.  He slaughtered his father at the first Six Nation Summit.  He slaughtered his uncle, Hei Shao.  He slaughtered the Air Queen, the Dark Lord, and the Elemental King.  He murdered Fyre, his brother's lover, just to spite his brother."

Malfurion's eyes dimmed as he remembered how his brother tried to take Tyrandé from him in a similar way.  How he slaughtered their own people and tried to kill Malfurion and Tyrandé in his madness.  Malfurion conveniently left out the fact that that power was known as an Old God.  He was certain the humans nowadays did not know of them.  He was certain the Spirit King would also not want him to scare his champions with stories of uncontrollable, unkillable gods running about in another universe, trying to break into this one in order to conquer it.  The Old Gods wished to destroy the world and remake it for themselves.  They were so powerful they have bent reality to their will, and turned the very wardens of the elements against the path of good.

The Elemental Dragon Lords.  Once tasked by the Gods to guard the elements; not twisted traitors who lead armies in the name of the Old Gods.  People have had their minds corrupted as well.  Susano'o.  Ozai.  Sozin.  Rekka.  The Ezofuji family was not the only one to face the Old Gods though.  The Dark Lady Maki and her descendants.  Earth King Li, of the House of Peng.  Even Malfurion's own...no, no he was gone.  He was imprisoned forever.  He would not be back.  Malfurion pushed Illidan from his mind.  No more thoughts of him.

"This power is what gives Susano'o the will to return always, and seek to destroy his enemies and bring 'peace' to the world.  Ha!  Peace," hissed Malfurion, spitting into the snow at his feet with disgust.  Wretched things humans could be.  Peace.  Not the way Susano'o did it.  "In our language, we call Susano'o Xaxas," explained Malfurion, "It means chaos.  Discord.  Betrayer...only three have ever held that title in our tongue.  Susano'o, Lord Magmaros and my...the Betrayer himself, Illidan."  Malfurion dared not mention his relation to his brother, and caught himself quickly.  "Come, let us stop talking, friends," stated Malfurion grandly, wielding his great, wooden staff, summoning the spirits of the woodland realm of Ashenvale, his now distant home across the Spirit World, "We attack!"

Susano'o looked into the distance, frowning at what he saw.  It was inevitable he supposed.  Malfurion was there.  He remembered Malfurion.  The bastard tried to turn the Spirit World against Susano'o when the latter slaughtered the previous Spirit King, the winged lion, and took the throne for himself.  Susano'o was the first mortal to take the throne, and started a long tradition of Ezofuji's on the Spirit King's throne.  The winged lion was the first Spirit King, and was once a demi-god; the son of Sceter and the Oina, Kushinada.  His brother was the first Avatar, Katsu, also the first Emperor of Nippon.

Susano'o pointed on the horizon with his glowing sword; aiming the tip towards the charging attackers.  "Pyro, take a battalion with you.  Wipe them out," he said calmly.  Pyro nodded, doing as his new master bid.  He roared a great demon roar, his flaming body igniting brighter than ever and he led the charge of undead soldiers towards the three pitiful enemies.


Pyro was once the Champion of Lord Magmaros.  Highest ranking General in the Burning Legion.  The Destroyer of World.  Burner of Countries.  The Great Destroyer.  Hand of Magmaros.  Pyro was then sealed inside of a girl by some over-active, over-zealous rebel leader who wanted to destroy the Fire Nation.  Pyro hated being trapped within the girl; disallowed to leave and be free to do what he did best and loved most: destroy.

Susano'o was the one who freed him.  Even after Magmaros had forgotten and abandoned him.  Susano'o allowed him to destroy again...destroy and ruin everything.  The Southern Water Tribe.  Their leadership.  Their people.  Their contorted faces as they burned to death.  Pyro twisted his grin into a wicked smile.  He reveled in the destruction.  Raising his broken sword, he pointed towards the enemies that neared them.  "Charge soldiers of the Undead!  Destroy our enemies!"  They did as they were told.


The enemies charged towards the armoured undead soldiers with their broken spears and swords and tattered shields.  Warriors of times past.  A collection of arms and armour from all eras.  From the days of Roku.  From the Hundred Year War in the time of Aang and Ozai.  From Avatar Kyoshi and Chin the Conquerer's day.  From the time of Konoe and the founding of the Four Nations.  From the early days of Nippon.  From the Ullondorian Crusade.  It was all there, ranging thousands of years.  Soldiers and heroes who once died for their country, now served the very beings intent on destroying everything they fought to protect.

((OOC: You will be attacked by and attacking the undead soldiers for now.))


Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :

10

Attack Strength (x5 Multiplier)

Random number (1,1000) :

990

Defense:

Random number (1,10) :

5

Spoiler:

The strong smell of death in the air nearly made Yami vomit. As the five soldiers charged towards her, or rather shambled briskly, Yami's eyes watered. It wasn't the first time in her life she wished her sense of smell wasn't heightened. She resisted the urge to cover her nose, instead gripping her hammer, trying not to breathe more than she needed to. There were five of them, and only one of her and, despite her best efforts, many of their attacks got through. Yami found herself covered in a few minor wounds.

She was mad. She had just patched up her cloak and they had torn it up once again. A deep growl rumbled within her chest. She began moving faster, dodging and blocking her opponents' attacks. She held her hammer out, pouring her chi through the mysterious weapon as her cyan fire spewed from the dragon's "mouth". She spun around, holding out the hammer as she attempted to hit all of the soldiers in one swing.

Accuracy:

Random number (1,10) :

5

Strength:

Random number (1,10000) :

842