Behold the immense power of Argus, our new Champion of Light. Hit that Mortals.

31 Aug 2023, 15:01
Behold the immense power of Argus, our new Champion of Light đŸ’« Hit that đŸ±đŸ± Mortals!

Same news in other sources

2
02 Sep 2023, 00:00
One has to go, Mortals
One has to go, Mortals.
One has to go, Mortals
01 Sep 2023, 07:26
Let me tell you, friends, about a time when chaos exploded into the world. Let me tell you the story of how chaos came and went, and Light’s new champion arose. How do I know? I was there. It was contained chaos, mind you, but chaos all the same. It was a pocket realm, where a portion of Eucos descended into madness. Inside the chaos realm, the domains blended, one becoming indiscernible from the other, the lines between Magic and Light... ...Nature and Deception ...War and Death ...blurring until they were one in the same. I called to Elyrian, and Aeona answered. I reached for Lysander, and felt Malissus’ embraced. Some mortals reveled in the madness, others stood aghast. But one stood firm. Argus, the White Wall. He alone held true, and ventured to the heart of the chaos. With a great threat in front of him, and a great need behind, Argus stood stalwart, his shield raised as he pressed on against the destructive power, advancing to the core of the pocket realm. And at the center, the heart of the chaos, he found a simple eye. An entity beyond our ken. “Why do you resist?” asked the eye as it throbbed, emanating its chaotic mass. “All that is created must end. All that is created is meaningless.” One of weaker will would have crumpled in front of such a creature. But not one as grounded as Argus, no. Argus focused. Finding his mind within the madness by focussing on a singular thing. “It is simply not true,” whispered Argus. “There is meaning in even the smallest act. Bees take honey from a flower, and honey brings me joy”. “Joy is worthless, emotions are nothing but mortal chaos,” stated the entity. The rhythm of its words was overpowering, the chaos: consuming. “It is simply not true,” said Argus again, this time with slightly more gusto. “I am who I am thanks to good and bad emotions. When I was brought down by jests, I was made strong. Where my friends lifted me up, I was made whole. It’s simply part of existing.” “Existence is meaningless!” shouted the entity. Its rage spilling out as the pocket realm throbbed uncontrollably, threatening to expand or implode. Chaos is, after all, unpredictable. “It is simply not true!” yelled Argus, his voice rising above the sound. “Everything has meaning. Even you. "And now is your chance. An end to this chaos would bring meaning to many!” And with that the entity roared and a great energy exploded from it (or did it implode?). “I will end us, end it all!” spewed the eye. “No!” shouted Argus. “You can stop this. You can decide to create meaning, great meaning, for others!” A greater explosion/implosion. But again, Argus stood firm. His determination to protect outlasting his equipment, his shield began to splinter, his clothes began to break, but his will never wavered. His will shone. It is said that through the chaos reached Lysander, God of Light. Argus’ will, his target; a shining beacon in a chaotic storm. Here was a mortal who would give everything to protect, everything to preserve, everything to nurture. It was everything the God of Light had been looking for, all Argus needed to do, was accept. Their eyes met. Mortal and god. There were no sermons needed. No grand speeches. Just a nod between the two, an understanding, that no one should be left behind. Lysander’s light flooded into the mighty felid. Where once things began to shatter, pure Light exploded. Argus’ shield began to glow with a brilliant yellow light; his tattered cape extended to form a brilliant gold; his armor ablaze with power. The White Wall was no more
 but not because Argus perished. Only in name, did The White Wall topple. For here, he became the Champion of Light. Chosen mortal of Lysander. The chaos raged and spluttered. Spewed and frothed. And then it stopped. “Meaning isn’t meaningless,” said Argus, his voice gentle now. The Light around him fading as his clothes returned to their normal state. “It’s just hidden. Sometimes it’s hard to see the truth of things.” And with that the eye blinked, quivered, and disappeared. “You have done a great thing today, friend,” said the new Champion of Light. “May you find your meaning.” And so I watched as Argus swung his shield onto his back and set off into the afternoon, one that made sense once more: sun emitting light, trees growing, leaves falling. Like many others, my mind was only then returning to me, but I like to think the big lug went in search of some honey. A small joy, after a long day.
Let me tell you, friends, about a time when chaos exploded into the world.
Let me tell you, friends, about a time when chaos exploded into the world. Let me tell you the story of how chaos came and went, and Light’s new champion arose. How do I know? I was there. It was contained chaos, mind you, but chaos all the same. It was a pocket realm, where a portion of Eucos descended into madness. Inside the chaos realm, the domains blended, one becoming indiscernible from the other, the lines between Magic and Light... ...Nature and Deception ...War and Death ...blurring until they were one in the same. I called to Elyrian, and Aeona answered. I reached for Lysander, and felt Malissus’ embraced. Some mortals reveled in the madness, others stood aghast. But one stood firm. Argus, the White Wall. He alone held true, and ventured to the heart of the chaos. With a great threat in front of him, and a great need behind, Argus stood stalwart, his shield raised as he pressed on against the destructive power, advancing to the core of the pocket realm. And at the center, the heart of the chaos, he found a simple eye. An entity beyond our ken. “Why do you resist?” asked the eye as it throbbed, emanating its chaotic mass. “All that is created must end. All that is created is meaningless.” One of weaker will would have crumpled in front of such a creature. But not one as grounded as Argus, no. Argus focused. Finding his mind within the madness by focussing on a singular thing. “It is simply not true,” whispered Argus. “There is meaning in even the smallest act. Bees take honey from a flower, and honey brings me joy”. “Joy is worthless, emotions are nothing but mortal chaos,” stated the entity. The rhythm of its words was overpowering, the chaos: consuming. “It is simply not true,” said Argus again, this time with slightly more gusto. “I am who I am thanks to good and bad emotions. When I was brought down by jests, I was made strong. Where my friends lifted me up, I was made whole. It’s simply part of existing.” “Existence is meaningless!” shouted the entity. Its rage spilling out as the pocket realm throbbed uncontrollably, threatening to expand or implode. Chaos is, after all, unpredictable. “It is simply not true!” yelled Argus, his voice rising above the sound. “Everything has meaning. Even you. "And now is your chance. An end to this chaos would bring meaning to many!” And with that the entity roared and a great energy exploded from it (or did it implode?). “I will end us, end it all!” spewed the eye. “No!” shouted Argus. “You can stop this. You can decide to create meaning, great meaning, for others!” A greater explosion/implosion. But again, Argus stood firm. His determination to protect outlasting his equipment, his shield began to splinter, his clothes began to break, but his will never wavered. His will shone. It is said that through the chaos reached Lysander, God of Light. Argus’ will, his target; a shining beacon in a chaotic storm. Here was a mortal who would give everything to protect, everything to preserve, everything to nurture. It was everything the God of Light had been looking for, all Argus needed to do, was accept. Their eyes met. Mortal and god. There were no sermons needed. No grand speeches. Just a nod between the two, an understanding, that no one should be left behind. Lysander’s light flooded into the mighty felid. Where once things began to shatter, pure Light exploded. Argus’ shield began to glow with a brilliant yellow light; his tattered cape extended to form a brilliant gold; his armor ablaze with power. The White Wall was no more
 but not because Argus perished. Only in name, did The White Wall topple. For here, he became the Champion of Light. Chosen mortal of Lysander. The chaos raged and spluttered. Spewed and frothed. And then it stopped. “Meaning isn’t meaningless,” said Argus, his voice gentle now. The Light around him fading as his clothes returned to their normal state. “It’s just hidden. Sometimes it’s hard to see the truth of things.” And with that the eye blinked, quivered, and disappeared. “You have done a great thing today, friend,” said the new Champion of Light. “May you find your meaning.” And so I watched as Argus swung his shield onto his back and set off into the afternoon, one that made sense once more: sun emitting light, trees growing, leaves falling. Like many others, my mind was only then returning to me, but I like to think the big lug went in search of some honey. A small joy, after a long day.