#malzahar

Getting back to the roots of the first league ship I loved

voidsought:

runic-scars​ / o’ rune mage; will you fight to see your world burn a second time?  

“Your false claims will not make me falter.” He responds, holding his ground. Still, the eerie way this so called prophet spoke was beginning to get to him. “And what of the last one to try and steal a rune from my grasp? Do you know its fate?” The last creature he had fought with for a rune had nearly beaten him, sure, but he did not mention that. No, he had destroyed it within its own realm, though he still bore the scars from the encounter.

‘ false claims? oh, we have never lied nor seen wrong. choose to believe all you like, little mortal, the world will not change simply because you pretend otherwise. ’ their voice was almost chiding, the tone laced with pity. a twisted condolence towards mortals who fought all they could against the hands of fate. but that was how things were, unfair, and all going to eventually end. ‘ that one served its purpose. it touched, it tasted, it learnt. destroyed it might be, but infinites remain. infinites searching for one one discovered. ’ 

“Seen?” The old mage scoffed. “Hoped more like. I don’t force the world to my whims with corrupt and alien magic, unlike you and your ilk.” Ryze’s distaste for Malzahar and the voidborn practically dripped from his tongue as he spoke.

The prophet’s final words made him frown even harder, if possible. “So, you’ve been hunting me all this time? Your minions don’t stand too much chance against me, and you seem the type to command instead of fight your own battles. I’d say you’re outmatched.”

voidsought:

runic-scars‌/ o’ rune mage; will you fight to see your world burn a second time?

“No.” The reply was nearly a growl. Ryze squared his shoulders and met Mal'zahar’s gaze, vibrant purple eyes betraying no fear. The way his jaw set, and the occasional flickering blue trace of magic through his runes, might hint his willingness to fight to protect the runes. “You, of all creatures, do not need the power of those runes. I do not care how many voidborn or void touched I must kill to dissuade you and your twisted flock.” He refuses to acknowledge the mention of his past, knowing that the memories might be a weakness.

          ‘ no?kill us? ’ the prophet laughs, the sound crude and echoing. one might expect his voice to be muffled by the cloth of his mask, but only one of a thousand tones seemed to be, the rest spoke from formless tongues and approaching chattering maws. mal’zahar extended his hand, its shape more claw than hand, reaching for him and all he has. ‘ kill as many of the shayatin as you may, rune mage. there will always be more. for all who bleed and die within our reach will grow, more will born from every lost life. you cannot stop us, never all of us. ’

“Your false claims will not make me falter.” He responds, holding his ground. Still, the eerie way this so called prophet spoke was beginning to get to him. “And what of the last one to try and steal a rune from my grasp? Do you know its fate?” The last creature he had fought with for a rune had nearly beaten him, sure, but he did not mention that. No, he had destroyed it within its own realm, though he still bore the scars from the encounter.

voidsought:

          ‘ oh, so much destruction and chaos. we can taste it on your echos. the past you lived. all the futures you might bring. ’ the prophet hums, their reverberating voice bringing what could have been a pleasant sound to an agonising chorus. mal’zahar’s eyes gleam with malicious intent, with hunger, with desire. a dark sun burns behind them, and if they could, they would force his many arms through them and take what is rightfully theirs. not yet, but soon. ‘ these world runes, the power and ruin they bring. we want them. all of us want them. ’

@runic-scars–sc!

“No.” The reply was nearly a growl. Ryze squared his shoulders and met Mal'zahar’s gaze, vibrant purple eyes betraying no fear. The way his jaw set, and the occasional flickering blue trace of magic through his runes, might hint his willingness to fight to protect the runes. “You, of all creatures, do not need the power of those runes. I do not care how many voidborn or void touched I must kill to dissuade you and your twisted flock.” He refuses to acknowledge the mention of his past, knowing that the memories might be a weakness.