The nine sorcerers of the Tolkeen High Council were in their private throne room, each sitting on a gilded, bejeweled chair. On the floor was traced a pentagram in chalk, which the thrones lay inside of. The only light was provided by dozens of torches on the walls. Other than that, the cold, stark room was empty. Sweat beading on their faces, the wizards each looked slowly at each other.
Four of the Council Members were humans, three men and a female to be precise. They were all in either middle or old age, and all of them were wearing identical, rune-covered robes. One of the men nervously sucked on a cigarette, its blue-grey smoke mingling with the dark fumes of the torches.
One of the Council Members was a cocky, yet powerful godling. His handsome and youthful features belied his incredible age and fantastic powers. He was the only one of the wizards to enjoy or appreciate human fashion. The godling wore faded jeans, an open leather overcoat, and a pair of sunglasses. The only signs of his mystic orientation were the numerous pendants hanging from his neck and the Necronstaff clutched in his hands.
Two of the Council Members were Lizard Mages. They were brothers, in fact, and best of friends, who had traveled the multiverse for millennia. They sat facing each other, looking coolly into each other's eyes. Occasionally their iguana-like faces would twitch with anticipation tempered by fear.
One of the Council Members was en elf. He was young and actually rather inexperienced. Recently, his father, the former holder of his post, had died of a heart attack, allowing the young sorcerer to inherit the lofty post. He looked the most nervous of the lot, and constantly looked at the others, sweat pouring from his brow.
The final, and most important, member of the Tolkeen High Council was an ancient ice dragon. It sat in its enormous throne, in the very center, quietly running its claws up and down a rune-covered Sword of Atlantis, touching and feeling every inch.
"It is time" said the dragon, its voice like rolling thunder. "Let us begin the Gathering. Remember, if we do not succeed, then Tolkeen shall surely fall."
Each of the Council Members nodded in unison. The smoking human tossed his smoldering tobacco away. Then, they began to chant obscene, unknowable syllables, carefully pronouncing every word of power.
The ground beneath them began to shake. Many of the torches suddenly extinguished, leaving the throne room in near-total darkness. But still, the chant continued. And soon, there was light again, as the very floor began to glow with a fey, blue energy. Bolts of the power shot up the legs and bodies of several of the chanters. Gritting their teeth against the pain, they continued their chant.
The spell continued on for about fifteen more minutes, at which point the ground began shaking. Indeed, there was a powerful tremor in the air itself, which ripped bits of gold from the thrones, and hurled the dead torches from their sconces. The sorcerers gripped onto their armrests, and tried not to be thrown from their seats.
The light emanating from the floor became so bright as to be painful to see. All of the wizards save the godling and the dragon closed their eyes to save themselves from retinal damage. The former had his sunglasses and a natural toughness. The latter had only an indomitable will to continue.
Soon, it became noticeable that there was a type of magical vacuum in the throne room. Each of the wizards felt it, an invisible impulse trying to wrest their magical reserves away from them. The vacuum was almost impossible to resist. The young elf, able to stand no more, gave in, and then gasped in shock and horror as a large part of his soul was wrenched out of him. Unconscious and nearly dead, he lay slumped in his chair. Not a single one of the other Council Members raised a finger to help him.
"Be brave," the dragon urged mentally to the others, its voice resounding in their heads. "The demons will be here soon." The others, heeding his request, tried to gulp down the pain and continue.
After a few more minutes, the tremors had grown too great to ignore. Two of the humans were thrown from their chairs onto the floor, where they were enveloped by burning magical energy. One of them managed to keep on chanting, and got back up to his throne. The other did not, as the shock had knocked him unconscious. After a while, the mystical flames began to burn and scorch his flesh.
The dragon suddenly grabbed its rune sword, and plunged it into the floor. In an instant, the bright magical energies dancing on the floor gathered into the sword, and shot through the blade and hilt, creating a beam up towards the ceiling. The tremors also gathered around the weapon, and created an area of shimmering, vibrating force around it.
"The moment of truth has arrived," announced the dragon, via telepathy to the others. "It is time."
The wrenching sensation became even stronger than before. One of the Lizard Mages was suddenly wracked with spasms as his mystical energy was drained too fast. He stayed conscious and kept on chanting, but was on the verge of death.
The sword began to quake with a terrible ferocity. A swirling, inky blackness was slowly brought up through its blade, then shot up to the ceiling, which it passed through. Then, a second one came. And then a third. And so on.
A total of nine patches of darkness were invoked by the spell. After the ninth had passed through the ceiling, the Sword of Atlantis shattered with the force of a grenade. Razor-sharp fragments of it scattered all over the room, some of them imbedding in the ice dragon's flesh and drawing blood as cold as liquid nitrogen. The wyrm seemed not to notice or care. The blue light generated by the blade went out, leaving the room in darkness. The chanting stopped. Many of the Council Members let out sighs of relief. One of the Lizard Mages began to light some torches with a minor spell. The godling tried to rouse the sleeping elf. One of the humans gently shut the eyes of the fallen Council Member, who resembled a piece of well-cooked meat after his burning by the mystical flames.
"Let us tend to the wounded in a few moments," suggested the dragon, rising from its throne. "We must first see the results of our work." The other Council Members rose from their seats, and followed the wyrm out of the room, through its rune-decorated gates.
They walked up a ramp, to a door of compounded ceramics three feet thick, covered with runes of protection and carefully sealed with a complex electronic lock. One of the humans quickly punched in a number on a keypad. Then, with a hiss of hydraulics, the door slowly began to swing open, letting in the bright light of day.
The Council Members stepped outside, into the fresh air of the city streets. They stood at the foot of a great pyramid, one which rivaled anything produced by the Egyptian kings. Orbiting around the top of the structure were nine crystals, each at least 30 feet tall. In the center of each gem was barely visible a patch of total and utter blackness, a swirl of dark out of which strange shapes occasionally formed.
"We've done it!" exclaimed the godling, with an impish grin on his face.
"Yes," said one of the humans breathlessly, lighting up a cigarette with trembling hands. "The Nine Weirds are in their proper positions. And may God have mercy on our souls."
"Whatever gods you may believe in have little say in this matter," boasted the ice dragon imperiously. "Even they will be powerless when we decide to burn Chicago."
Meanwhile, on the borderlands of Tolkeen, Elizabeth Perrin waited anxiously, her finger on the controls to her C-TX60 Laser Cannon. "Where could they be?" she asked nervously, talking to no one in particular. "Jack and Karny were supposed to have herded that elemental over here by now!. I hope nothing bad's happened to them."
"Don't worry," chuckled Pierce, her gunner counterpart. "You know how those two like to make an entrance. They'll probably swoop in out of the horizon any minute now, guns blaring and rockets launching every which way, with the elemental running right into our kill zone."
The two of them sat hunched over laser cannon controls in a "Line Backer" tank, wearing identical light combat armor. They were in elevated chairs in order to reach their consoles, which were some nine feet off of the floor. The other six crew members sat all around in fairly cramped conditions at the bottom.
The tank sat in a forest, behind a large oak tree, with a camouflage sheet draped over it. There were two other of the war machines as well, one sitting in a ditch with a sheet over it, and the other one carefully hidden behind a veritable wall of large saplings. There, they waited in ambush, for one of the most powerful entities in the multiverse.
Jack Perrin's Scout Cycle swooped over a grove of trees, its intake vacuum sucking up several leaves and tearing them to green shreds. His partner stayed carefully on his Jack's left flank, keeping a keen eye out for trouble.
"Well," muttered the wingman over his radio. "We've been out here for nearly an hour, and still no sign of this elemental HQ said was supposed to show up any minute now. Why're we after this goomba, again?"
"He's been a naughty monkey," replied Jack. "He's been preying on our installations up here. So HQ, in its infinite wisdom, decided to hunt the hunter. And you know what happens to naughty monkeys."
The two friends simultaneously yelled, "They get spanked!" at the tops of their lungs, and then began to laugh deliriously. It was an old, inside joke between the two of them. The two friends buzzed over the top of the forest, laughing and talking and flying. They did not know that they were being watched from below. There, from beneath the leafy canopy, a slab if granite in the shape of a man with two white, glowing eyes, sat, hidden from view. Seeing the two Scout Cycles fly overhead, it got up to its feet, and began chasing at an impossible speed.
"Hey, man, did you see Rutger's Comedy World last night?" asked Jack.
"Yeah," replied Karny. "Didja see that skit about the Lofty who went to the Burbs for some smokes?"
Suddenly, the elemental leapt up at them. It brought both of its hands down into the intake valves of Jack's Scout Cycle. With an explosion of sparks and flame, the jet engine shattered, causing the hoverbike to spiral downwards in a shroud of flames and smoke. Before he knew what was happening, Jack Perrin was in a freefall to the hard ground below. His Scout Cycle had fallen out from underneath him, so he just fell. There was a quick jolt of impact as he fell through the forest's canopy. Then, a much harder, more severe jolt hit him as he crunched down into the ground. Dull pain shot through his back and shoulders, and his vision swam with colors. For a few moments, he was too dizzy and disoriented to do anything. Finally, he got up, and looked at the nearby burning wreckage of his bike. Looking up, he realized that he had fallen nearly fifty feet. At no other moment in his life had he been so grateful for combat armor.
In the distance, he saw the elemental chasing after Karny. It left me for dead, Jack thought. Then, he saw the direction which his wingman was leading the monster, and chuckled. Good ol' Karny, he thought. Leading that bastard straight into the ambush.
Pulling his walkie-talkie out of his utility belt, Jack set it to the frequency of the tanks. "Get ready for company, cuz an earth elemental's coming to dinner!" he laughed. "ETA about a minute. Bastard downed my cycle, so I'll have to hoof it. Be there in a little while."
The familiar voice of his wife crackled back, "We'll set an extra place for you, honey." Smiling broadly, Jack put the walkie-talkie away, and began to stroll towards the ambush. He felt every bit of confidence, knowing that the elemental was walking into a death trap.
After all, he reasoned. Not even a greater earth elemental could withstand three tanks at once.
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