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Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Nemesis Scar, May 20, 2020.

  1. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Chapter 1: Bhavacakra

    Sword-day, axe-time.
    Shields are splintered.
    Snow falls, blood falls.
    Ere the old world’s ending.

    Hither there comes Septimus.
    With the hammer she smites.
    Forth from their halls under the Earth must the Primordials flee.
    The dreadful serpent roars in pain.
    -From the Kolkular Saga

    “Arise, arise now, brothers of the Mark!” Her clarion call echoed over the rocky cliffs of the plateau surrounding Kaon. Proud Septimus stood alone, her hammer Drak A Dron held high to the sky above her. “A dark day, a sword-day!!” Before her, the serpent-thing coiled around the holy mountain of Kolkular, where she and her siblings had first come forth. Hytherion, the beast of ages. Crawling forth from the depths of the planet, it had rampaged through the town of Kaon with reckless abandon. Twisting and writhing through the town, it had finally come to a stop at Kolkular, where a meager fortress had been built.

    Septimus locked her eyes with the Hytherion’s. Its optics were aglow with primal hate. It existed to sustain itself, to feed itself and little more. “You have to be destroyed.” She said to the beast, even though it couldn’t possibly understand her. “It doesn’t matter that you’re just a stupid animal. You can’t be allowed to roam free.”

    Forth came the host of the Mark, horns sounding. Banners flapped in the wind over them, bearing devices of crossed white swords, ursagryphs taking wing, and the holy mountain. Mail clattered and clanged as they came forth. They bore spears, long-hafted axes, and swords. There was unison to their march, yet they did not wholly move in lockstep. Each was an individual, their panoply holding to no uniform standard, but rather to a variety of colors and devices. Lines of overlapping shields bore personal heraldry, with Septimus recognizing those of her son, Ephemeris, and his conjunx, Azimuth, at the head of the host. A short prayer for their survival was all she could manage at the time.

    The beast stirred, and out of its mouth, flew a swarm of Insecticons. Symbiotes of the Hytherion, the Insecticons were legion. Septimus leapt forth with thunderous force, flying into the horde before her. The air around her was thick with the things. Their chitinous black hides and flapping wings beat against her as she flew towards the Hytherion itself. Going past the god-queen, they sped, heedless of her, towards the host of the Mark. Battle ensued behind her. ‘Mechs in the best armor the Primes could muster fell to scything talons, to crushing jaws. Septimus did her best to ignore the screams of the dying. But the Insecticons didn’t do this unscathed. Mighty arms rained crushing blows upon them, battering swords smashed them aside. Shields slammed against their heads, pulping them and spraying Energon over the ground.

    “Push them back, boys!” Azimuth’s voice rose above the din of battle. She was in the thick of it, wielding a two-handed sword. “Put your backs into it! Your lives depend on it!” Her son’s wife was brave. It made Septimus proud to have such courage in her house. “FIGHT!” Beside her, Ephemeris stood, swinging a sweeping axe. Scores of Insecticons died as he swung it, and they crumpled to the ground before the lovers, in a great mound. Her son was just as brave as his conjunx, and this was the cause of much bragging when Septimus and her siblings met.

    Battering aside the laggards, Septimus made her way to where the Hytherion rose to the sky, its mouth gaping. Fire issued from that maw in great jets, yet she did not quail before its might, fearful of its power as she was. Drak A Dron surged with energy in her hands. The hammer had been forged for her, and her alone, by her sister Solus. Slayer of giants, a basher of trolls. She had the utmost confidence in her weapon.

    The Hytherion lunged forth at her, its jaws open wide. Brave Septimus leapt into the air, and swung down the hammer...
     
  2. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Chapter 2: Avidya

    The Dragon Caves, one of Septimus’s favored retreats, were deep underneath Kolkular. In these labyrinthine hollows, slept a great brood of the children of Onyx. Though they might seem at first to be unreasoning, unintelligible beasts, Septimus had found the dragons actually quite intelligent. Their tongue took some time to learn, but it was no less elegant than the tongue the Primes’ maker had passed down to them, and they had passed down to their own children. It was guttural and growling, much like her own voice. It was to her relief that the caves and the dragons within had survived the battle with Hytherion mostly unscathed.

    The Grey Prime sat with legs crossed, stroking the head of Predaking, the largest and most powerful of Onyx’s spawn. “The thing is dead,” She told him in dragon-tongue. “I killed it myself, with a stroke from Drak A Dron.” The hammer’s name literally meant “Dragon of Thunder”, a fact that amused her siblings to no end.

    “Hrm. It is good that the Hytherion is dead.” Predaking’s voice was a loud basso. It filled the room, overwhelming all lesser sounds. “Your children and ours will not be the only ones to rejoice, either.” A sly smile appeared on his face. “I hear that the Primordials have fought many wars against it.” He referred to the Firstborn of Primus, the squat horned creatures that lived under the surface of Cybertron. “Of course, they would rather see some of my erstwhile kin dead.”

    Both laughed nervously. It was a problem in their relations with the Primordials. Every so often, one of Onyx’s children - usually, a younger one - would strike out on their own. Being the type of creature they were, they would generally seek out a home underground. This was much to the chagrin of the Primordials, who had made their home in such spaces. So far, the Primes had kept the Primordials from killing any of them, but the loss of life such confrontations brought with them made it hard to talk them down. To make matters worse, Galimir the Golden, the king of the Primordials, was not a particularly forgiving creature. Every time such a confrontation took place, he rightfully raged about it.

    “I see you’ve retreated down here again.” A stern voice and loud, heavy footfalls filled the air. Predaking reared up, then stopped once he saw who it was. It was the Alpha Prime, Prima. His armor was a marbled white, and his hands were folded behind his back. “Megatronus is easy to find. Wherever the darkness encroaches, he will be there. Solus sticks to her forge.” A click of his tongue followed this. “But you? You’re more difficult to find.”

    “I stay with my people.” Septimus rose to her feet. “And with Brand, of course.” Her husband, father of her child, was mortal. Not like them. Not a god. Prima was bemused by this. His belief was that they should stick to their own, so to speak. And as Alpha, he held quite some sway over them. “What of it?”

    “Truth be told,” Prima’s face turned dour. A frown appeared on his face when Predaking made eye contact with him. He found Onyx’s creations distasteful. “I feel that we have strayed from our purpose. You have often said we were to carry out our creator’s will.”

    “His will is for us to guide our people.” Septimus said flat-out. She was not one for philosophizing about this. That was the domain of Alpha Trion, or the Liege Maximo. She knew it in her spark to be true, and introspection did not come to her easily. “I am obeying his will.”

    “Then what of Quintessa?” An eye-ridge was raised on Septimus’s part. She knew Quintessa mostly by rumor. They had never talked much, and her domain was far from Kaon. “She has her tribe to guide!” Prima’s voice became louder. “Then why has she created something else, something outside of his plan?!” The Alpha slammed his fist against the wall of the cave, and two of his tribe came in.

    They were dragging something in a null-net behind. Something bulbous, something tentacled and oozing slime. Septimus found it unpleasant to look at. “These abominations are what she has busied herself with, sister.” Prima told her. From a scabbard at his side, the Alpha drew his Star Saber. Septimus averted her eyes, but the sounds told her all she needed to know.

    “Septimus, this means war. Will you be on my side?”
     
  3. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Chapter 3: Asura

    The frozen energon lake stretched out before the dragon-riders as they bore down upon the citadel of Quintessa. Banners flapped in the howling wind, hung from long lances. Septimus was at the head of the host, atop Predaking. Flanking her were Azimuth and her son, on two lesser winged dragons. Below her host, were arrayed the wingless drakes of Megatronus’ thanes and levy. While not possessed of flight or the burning breath of her dragons, these drakes were still children of Onyx. Megatronus and the Liege Maximo had bred them for strength, and for sheer weight. This made them potent cavalry, perhaps even better than the dragons. For his part, Prima had not deigned to take the field, leaving them with their orders. “Coward.” Septimus growled to herself. “Leaving me and Megatronus to fight the battle.”

    Predaking dove down and slammed to the ice below, creating a spider-web of cracks in it. For his part, he was quiet. Beside her came Megatronus on his own mount, and beside him, his standard-bearer, Steelbane. “We should attack!” The thunderer was blunt, to a fault. He was ever fighting the various threats to their realm, more so than even Septimus did. With this came a disdain for subtlety. “The impetus of our charge will break the defenders. Look, they come to fight!” He extended a finger to the citadel, and Septimus saw for herself that Quintessa’s tribe was sallying out.

    “Indeed.” Septimus responded. “Azimuth, Ephemeris, follow me.” Spurring Predaking onwards, she took wing towards the citadel itself. Behind her, her son and daughter-in law struggled to keep up with them. Below, Megatronus’ cavalry formed up around their liege lord, racing towards the defenders. Couching her lance under her arm, the Grey Prime let out a keening death-cry.

    The drakes smashed into the defenders’ shield wall, the sheer weight of the armored riders and drakes tearing through their shields. Panic began to set in amongst their foe. It only worsened when the dragons landed, their riders slamming their lances into the enemy, and let loose with their breath. Streams of licking flames consumed Quintessa’s people, melting them alive. She tried to ignore their screams as she directed the slaughter. Predaking surged forth, clawing and snapping at the warriors, helpless to stop him. Azimuth’s dragon, Ripclaw, was particularly savage, her jaws clamping around a ‘mech and tearing him in twain.

    “This is getting out of hand.” Predaking noted of the carnage. In front of them, Ephemeris’s dragon, Grimwing, was gnawing on the dripping blue remains of a limb. “Rein them back in, milady.”

    “Forward!” Septimus ordered her dragon-riders. With her guttural call filling the air, they had no choice but to listen. Their mounts followed suit, with some reining in from their riders. Even the mighty Predaking answered her call. “Forward to the citadel, brothers and sisters!” Just as she said it, Septimus saw her atop the tower balcony. It was then she knew the battle was lost.

    Quintessa was lithe and tall, beautifully so. She leaned against a gnarled staff, its head glowing with light. She spoke. And when she spoke, words of power exited her mouth. The ground beneath Predaking heaved and shook under Quintessa’s speech. Storm clouds began to roll in, and lightning struck the ground. Septimus looked up at her, and as she did so, she was thrown from Predaking’s back, flying into the air. She could swear, as she fell through the broken ice and lost her grip on consciousness, that there was a smile on Quintessa’s face.
     
    Last edited: May 22, 2020
  4. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Chapter 4: Astra

    Septimus awoke fitfully, in steps at first. She was not deceased, she knew that much. The four walls around her certainly didn’t look like the Halls of Order. It wasn’t the bottom of the frozen energon lake, either. The sight of Quintessa at the foot of her bed told her that much. “So. You captured me.” She said to her sister, matter-of-factly. “What now?”

    “I just want to talk, Septimus.” Quintessa spoke in a stately, dignified tone. “You think I am against the will of Primus. You think I am creating abominations here, in my citadel Tor Quintess. I am not.” Her sister said flat-out, raising her voice as she did. All the while, she kept that stately tone. “You’ve been deceived by Prima!”

    It took a few seconds for this to sink in for Septimus. She had been deceived by the Alpha Prime? She had drawn energon in vain? She was in the wrong, then? “How can I know that you speak the truth, sister?” The Grey Prime was skeptical, to say the least. Her thoughts returned to the thing in the Dragon Caves, and disgust filled her mind again. “I need proof of these things.”

    “And proof you will have.” Quintessa rose from the bed, and bid Septimus to follow. “Come.” She did not walk, but rather floated a few inches above the floor. As Septimus willed herself out of the bed, she could not help but be impressed by the so-called Prime of Life. There was a grace to her that Septimus lacked, being the roughest of the three female Primes. Solus was kind and nurturing, and Quintessa obviously busied herself with new life. But Septimus’s craft was death, and the bringing of it. Though she and Brand had produced a son, she couldn’t help but feel that it was her purpose to kill.

    To kill the enemies of the Primes. To crush people like Quintessa. She wondered if Megatronus struggled with the same daemons. They exited the room and came into the balcony overlooking a rotunda. Below them was a pool of unusually clear Energon. None of the usual slag and impurities were present. “There are untold numbers of worlds in the galaxy,” Quintessa pointed her staff at the pool and whispered a word of power. In the Energon, appeared a starfield, and the head of the staff glowed. “Some of these, a fleeting few, have the potential for life.” Another word of power, and the scene shifted. Septimus saw an ocean, though not one of Energon. Its waters were just that - water. A fleeting substance on Cybertron, it was seemingly common on this other world. Within it, swam strange, chitinous creatures. “But if left to its own devices…”

    “Life will die,” Quintessa spoke mournfully. The scene became an ossuary, a graveyard of the bleached bones of the creatures piled upon one another. “Destroyed by the cruel hands of chaos.” A bearded face appeared in the water, a cruel one, and Septimus knew its name well, for she had fought it. Unicron. “That is why…I created them. My Quintessons.”

    Out of the energon, burst several creatures. They were like the creature in the cave, but more beautiful, more sleek, covered in shining metal plates like her people’s. From their tentacles, hung a variety of bladed weapons. “An army?” Septimus asked Quintessa, turning her head to face the Prime of Life.

    “Nay. They will be all-seeing saviors and shepherds, not conquerors of worlds.” Quintessa replied. “Guardians of all they survey.”

    “Then I have been deceived.” Septimus said dejectedly. “This is in accordance with his will.”

    “Indeed. And to show I am genuine, I have a gift.” Quintessa waved her staff over to a nearby alcove in the wall of the balcony. Within lay a leather bundle, with something swaddled inside of it. She drew the staff back, and it floated over to her open hand. “I have found this within the depths of the planet, beneath the citadel. It is the Ur-Sword, the Sword of Primus. It was meant for you, I know this, Septimus.” With a bow, she presented it to Septimus.

    Septimus greedily unwrapped the bundle and found an arming sword within. Its blade flashed like fire, and with a shaking hand, she reached for the haft. “With this sword,” She swore before the watching Quintessons and Quintessa. “I will strike down all evil!”
     
  5. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Chapter 5: Adharma

    I heard tell that warriors met in single combat.
    Septimus and Brand, between two armies.
    Husband and wife, prepared their armor - made ready their battle garments - girded their swords.

    -From the Septimusliad.

    Septimus was at the head of the host, marching towards Iacon and Prima’s fortress, the Decagon. Behind her were the teeming throng of Quintessa’s people. These were not warriors by profession, not one bit. A motley collection of scientists and workers, they were nonetheless armed as best as the Prime of Life could muster. Together, they marched to defeat the host of Prima and to bring back the Alpha Prime in chains.

    A tall order, Septimus thought to herself. Before them, in the distance, stretched the enemy host, consisting of Iaconian legionaries, along with auxiliaries from Vos and Nova Cronum. She knew of these warriors. Some of them, she had trained herself. She despised this immensely and vehemently. Because of Prima’s deception, many of those legionaries would have to die for nothing at all. Worse still would be the scores of maimings. Some would never be able to walk again, or to do anything but sit - trapped in their own minds.

    But the odds were not wholly in Prima’s favor. She had the Ur-Sword in her hands, and power radiated off of its blade, like a blazing sheath of fire. “Can you hear your people cry?” She asked Primus but knew there would be no answer. He had faded into sleep long ago. And with him, a promise to return in their darkest hour. “Help us, o Lord of Light! Hear my prayer, deliver us!”

    As if in answer to her prayer, the host of Prima parted. Shouting and cheering legionaries made way for a lone figure, clad in a suit of burnished black plate. On his left, he bore a shield with the round device of the Creation Matrix, which had given life to all Cybertronians. In his right hand, was a wickedly curved sword. “Come now, Septimus Prime!” His voice echoed loud and clear, and she couldn’t help but find it familiar. However, she couldn’t place it. “Let us not spill the blood of thousands this day! Let us decide this by champion!”

    “Indeed.” She raced forth, ranging far ahead of the host behind her. “I shall combat you, brave one!” As a Prime, her strides were massive, and her blows quaked the earth. For a mortal to challenge her was brave indeed. All around the two champions, gathered their respective armies in a vaguely ring-shaped formation.

    Prima’s champion was the first to make a move. Lunging forth, he thrust his sword at Septimus, who weaved out of the way with a split-second to spare. She countered with a step backwards, and a swing of the Sword of Primus. Raising his shield to absorb the blow, the black knight was driven back by the sheer force behind her swing. Septimus took this opportunity to press her advantage. Taking the ground before her, she leaped forward, stabbing her sword towards his head. The knight rolled to his side, huffing and puffing out of fear of the blow connecting.

    “You’re good.” Conceding her skill, the black-armored champion rose to his feet. “I know that much. We’ve sparred before, and that was obvious.” He paused for a moment, gripping the hilt of his sword more tightly. “But I refuse to lose!”

    The black knight rushed forth. What followed was a flurry of attacks, swift swings of his sword and a shield bash or two. Septimus was consumed by one question as she dodged and parried them. Who was this warrior? He had said they had sparred before, but under all that armor, he was nearly unrecognizable. Whatever the answer, she had to quickly regain her advantage, lest she lose.

    Septimus gritted her teeth. “You haven’t won this yet.” She told the brave warrior. With that, she swung her sword overhead with great force. Surprised by the sheer suddenness of the blow, he had no time to dodge, parry with his sword, or raise his shield. All he could do watch as the blow came down upon his head. “It’s over, I wi - “

    Septimus had her answer now. And as the helm split, tears dripped down her cheeks. She watched as her husband, Brand, reared back and fell, fatally struck. And with that, she heard a loud howling. She looked down. The once white Ur-Sword was now black, slick with his Energon and the betrayal it represented. “Prima will pay for this,” She swore as the host dispersed, leaving the road to Iacon clear.
     
  6. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Chapter 6: Vajra

    “Forge it.” Prima’s command was absolute, and his tone when he issued it to Solus made it clear that he knew it. In the days since Septimus had failed to bring back Quintessa and defected to the Prime of Life, the toll it had taken on the Alpha had become more and more obvious. He had stomped around the Decagon at odd hours of the night, sleepless and ragged. Some of the palace guards had confided in the Prime of the Forge that he was talking to himself, or some invisible other. So when he had made his way to her, the Creation Matrix in hand and a plan in his mind, she was already expecting something to happen.

    “This is nothing but sacrilege,” Solus told him outright. “Mating the Creation Matrix to something meant only to kill. He would not approve.” Her words fell on deaf audio receptors. Prima was the keeper of the Matrix, and it was his to do with as he wished. “How can I resist?” She sighed, exasperated. “You’ll have your sword, Prima.”

    “This weapon will ensure that Quintessa’s filthy creations do not leave this planet.” He gloated to her. Solus ignored him and raised her Forge, drawing a block of Cybertanium to her. “And that the traitor Septimus meets her end.” Beating the block with the Forge, the shape of the blade began to slowly take shape. “Nothing will challenge my rule again. Nothing!”

    What had they done? Prima was clearly mad, she thought. She feared for their future. Solus turned to look at her beloved husband, Megatronus. He was standing in the corner of her smithy, and intently watching Prima with a narrow, red gaze of apprehension. He said nothing to challenge the Alpha, but merely clutched tightly the haft of his own blade, Requiem.

    But then, he spoke. “I knew Brand, Alpha. He was a good ‘mech.” The Dark Prime’s gravelly growl filled the hot smithy air. He did not lock eyes with the Alpha, but rather watched his wife forge the sword she had been asked to. “You deliberately chose to send him out to face his wife.”

    “So I did.” Prima admitted. He shrugged. Solus hated him more than ever in that moment. “I knew one of them would die, and hopefully, I would be rid of that turbulent Grey Prime! That, sadly, did not come to pass.”

    “So you sent a husband to kill his wife, knowing that he would die.” Megatronus stated the thinking behind this choice rather matter-of-factly. He roared in fury. “YOU SENT HIM TO HIS DEATH!”

    “So I did.” Prima once more admitted. “What are you going to do about it? I have the power now, Megatronus. I am the master now. You are just a dog of war - to do as I command, or die beneath my heel!”

    What were they going to do about it? As she committed a sacrilege, Solus whispered a prayer to herself. “Oh, Lord of Light. Deliver us.” She said breathily. “Deliver us."
     
  7. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Chapter 7: Nagaraja

    They had set up camp outside Iacon, on the banks of the Trannis Fork. Quintessa herself had emerged from her citadel when she had heard of Brand’s fall, and with her, came much-needed reinforcements. They were Allicon and Sharkticon warriors, strong and stocky. But as Septimus watched the flames of Brand’s pyre waft into the night sky above, she felt nothing but despair. It had not occurred to her before that Prima could exercise such evil intent.

    “I can’t imagine how it must feel, Sep.” Quintessa looked as mournful as she did. Flanked by a bodyguard of Allicons, the Prime of Life stood beside her. “I was never given a partner as you and Solus were.” Septimus felt sad for her. She and Brand had been close, but apparently not close enough. And yet, she couldn’t imagine life without him. “I had to make my own playmates, from the building blocks of life. Mere amino acids, paltry hydrocarbons...these were as dear to me as any partner.”

    “It’s getting late, Quintessa. Battle awaits us tomorrow.” Septimus did not follow the line of conversation Quintessa was guiding her down. “It would be better for us all if we slep- .”

    “Wait.” Quintessa cut her off there. “I don’t think you understand.” Her optics widened, becoming globes of blue. “I thought I could just create companions, but now I realize…” Before she could finish that sentence, a thunderous noise filled the air. It was footfalls and the clanging of mail, and Septimus recognized these.

    Armored Primordial warriors. Septimus’s hands went to the sword at her side. Had they been sent by Prima to finish the job? Or were they allies in their cause? Her answer came with a loud, boisterous shout. “Hail, brave Grey Prime!” Galimir the Golden stood atop a massive shield, borne aloft by two Primordial warriors. His glittering beard streamed down from his flushed face, and two great horns jutted out into the air before his temples. Behind him were a Primordial war throng, bearing great axes and round shields.

    Heartened by the Mountain King’s arrival, Septimus turned away from the smoldering pyre. She raised a hand in greeting. “Hail, Mountain King!” She responded. “What brings you here, o great Galimir?”

    “Prima has gone mad, Septimus.” Galimir put his fist under his chin. “Committed sacrilege with the Creation Matrix, bonding it to a sword of Solus’s making. The Creator’s power, in the hands of a mad ‘mech!” To mate the source of all life on Cybertron with a weapon was unthinkable. What was Prima thinking? And then she knew. He was obsessed with putting an end to Quintessa’s plans, to her rebellion. “To stop this madness is all I want. We will guide you to the undercity of Iacon, and help you once you emerge. And you’ll not be alone, Septimus...”

    Galimir took something from his belt. Septimus saw it was a battle horn, used usually to signal to one’s troops in the chaos and confusion of battle. The king of the Primordials blew, and from the sky, came a familiar black shape.

    “Predaking.”
     
  8. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Chapter 8: Kalki

    Septimus, atop Predaking, emerged from the caverns under Iacon with aplomb. Behind her, out surged armored Primordial warriors, with biting axes and interlocked shields. She arose in might, making sweeping, crushing blows with the blackened Ur-Sword against the legionaries that dared stand in her way. “Beware! Beware! Vengeance and dark deeds awake!” Crying out with a loud voice, she spurred Predaking onwards, towards the Decagon. He obeyed, rising from the ground and flying on swift wings. “Prima, your doom is at hand!”

    Climbing over the Decagon, Predaking then made a sudden descent, a sudden dive into its courtyard. Septimus dismounted, and the king of the dragons flew back to aid in the battle outside. The Alpha was there in the center of it all, waiting for them under a white tree, stooping on his newly-forged weapon. “So you’ve come to die,” He gloated to her. Rising with sword in hand, he smirked as he assumed a guard stance. Blue plating shone in the soft green light of the Creation Matrix. “To die by my saber of the stars!”

    “Nay. I have come to avenge my husband, and to put an end to your treachery, along with your tyranny.” Septimus shot back. They orbited each other, pacing along the radius of the courtyard garden. She surged forth, her blows falling like a Primordial hammer, sending the Alpha back, inch by inch. “And to hammer home to every would-be despot that tales of tyranny end with me! That freedom is the right of all sentient beings!”

    “Nothing will challenge my rule! I will rise to the top of the clouds!” Prima cried in response. His riposte was swift and sudden, matching strength with strength, power with power. Septimus was surprised at how much power was behind those blows. Such arrogance, she thought. “I shall have dominion over all things! I will make myself like the most high!”

    She was on the backfoot now, only barely dodging the Alpha’s attacks. Each dodged blow, each parried strike seemed to sap her strength. The Ur-Sword’s power, too, had failed her. It was as if Brand’s death had robbed it of its divine qualities. If she didn’t take the advantage soon, she would fail in her quest. She would fail Quintessa! And for some reason, that was the most grievous pain of all.

    As she thought this, she realized she had been lost in thinking, so much so that she didn’t see the blow falling upon her. Too late, she tried to parry it aside. It connected, and Septimus let out a howl of pain as it bit into her shoulder. Not just physical pain, but spiritual pain. She could feel the pain of the Maker in that strike, the defilement of his essence adding to her own anguish. As she crumpled to the ground, she tried to rise to her feet.

    “Always the bravest of us, Septimus. A shame you were doomed to fail.” Prima gloated, circling her. “We are gods, all of us, but here...there can only be one!” He raised his wicked sword to strike the fatal blow…

    And was struck mortally himself. Septimus saw Megatronus, behind the Alpha, stab into his master’s chest with Requiem. Ripping the Star Saber out of the blasphemer’s hands, he grabbed Prima’s chin and twisted his head around to face him. “But you will be brought down to the Pit,” He told his brother in a spiteful tone. “And, all those who see you will wonder: can this be the one who shook the nations and kingdoms of the world?” As Prima blackened and died, Megatronus tossed him aside. Blue plating shattered against the wall of the courtyard, and energon leaked onto the stones of the floor.

    “Septimus.” He said in a softer tone, kneeling beside his shocked sister. “Are you wounded?”

    She rose. Doing so was painful, but not intolerable. "Yes." She admitted. "He got me towards the end. Thank you, brother."
     
  9. Nemesis Scar

    Nemesis Scar Combatrona a'den mhi, Vode An!

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    Epilogue
    Deep in space, far beyond the ken of any of the Primes, something stirred and opened its solitary eye. It was ancient, and unknowably evil. In the light of its one, massive lidless eye, it beheld the scene of death in the Decagon and smiled to itself. "Come forth, o mighty Prima." It spoke in a booming voice to the spirit that now burned within its Pit. Usually, it would burn for all time, but this was a special case. In the light of that horrible eye, blue became black, and the flames of the Pit left their mark. "It will be time for revenge soon enough, my Fallen."

    Though none could hear it in the soundless void of space, Unicron laughed.

    --- --- ---

    And thus ends Steelgods. I understand that this was a different take on the Mythos of the Thirteen, but I hope you liked it! I must shout out my now-girlfriend, @agentSAP2006, as this was based on concepts we hashed out together on Discord! 'Til all are one!