Ultimate Brodown

"This is the greatest day of my life!" Seregon shouted as he impaled the lungs of another demigod on his paired spears while he allowed his siblings - even the more eccentric Tinnedir - to cover his flanks during such a committed move in such a hectic battle.

Uanor cleaved open the chest of a jaguar clad warrior in front of him and delivered a backstep thrust through the man's mouth open in anguish. He marveled at his current strength and speed, so far beyond his normal capacity due to the inherent magic behind their summoning to this brutal world.

Up above it all on a grand stage his father banged out the marching orders on his drum set, the blistering pace of his strikes carrying the forces of Mordor to greater feats of arms. All around them, warriors of legend straight out of their fathers stories shared the field as they rolled over the enemy horde.

Before them beings of incredible might and valor constantly fell, unable to withstand the might of the armies led and empowered by the song of the pantheon of his fathers. With each passing moment Uanor felt his power growing, both the supportive power of this world and the song, and his own personal power that strengthened more and more as the ball of fire overhead grew and coalesced into his primordial grandfather Ormagoden.

He felt it in his flesh and blood, the power of his deific ancestry, his birthright of Fire, Metal, Blood, and Noise.

His joyous laughter healed his allies around him, and his cursed curved sword burst into flames. The wounds of his enemies struck his toughened flesh and failed to bite deeply, and healed before his very eyes.

The battle stilled as the song reached its climax and Ormagoden reformed.

"MY SONS AND DAUGHTER." the Eternal Firebeast spoke, his voice deafening all other sounds, "YOUR BRUTAL SOUND HAS TURNED BACK MY MOST IGNOBLE FATE AND RESTORED ME. ROCK ON CHILDREN OF ORMAGODEN, THE NEW GODS OF METAL."

With that he disappeared in a flash to go be awesome elsewhere.

Uanor felt his might reach a new peak as the fullness of his divinity awoke along side that of all his siblings. With a mighty roar they burst forward and slew all before them in an unstoppable tide of bloodshed. Like a hurricane of razors they disassembled their foes, sparing only the good looking women.

Cause without double standards, they wouldn't have any at all.

Their enemies slain or in chains, the armies of the New Gods of Metal called out the victory cry, and up on the stage a four armed hellbeast of a giant space lizard man stabbed the mythic Horn of Party Hardy into the life sized statue of his grandfather and brought forth a torrent of glowing mead that flowed a river through the blood soaked sands of their battleworld.

He ordered the butchers work and a feast upon the divine flesh of their foes and the lesser meat of their followers.

The forces of Mordor required no further invitation and began ripping and tearing, saving time by eating the meat of their foes raw. The oldest of the Black Elves followed his nose to the outdoor kitchen and tables of a the lead singer of his father's pantheon, the pale mountain of muscle adorned with a fine rack of horns and a braid of silver hair so thick and long the Elf would have been sure it was fake if not hanging from a version of his father.

Never underestimate the thickness of a Thrag Alter.

The Elf sat himself across from a silver masked woman in an elegant draped blue silk and samite dress with a pair of small circular golden angel wings affixed to her back. At her table sat many similarly masked courtiers and noblemen and women.

"Elf, you sit in the presence of Empress Celene Valmont, the Lioness of Orlais…" the courtier bit back his words at a gesture from the blue clad woman.

"Stephan," the Empress cut off the courtier, "Refrain from such a… haughty… tone while we are here. We are in the presence of many beings of high standing, even from our own world."

Uanor smiled faintly at the woman's tact. Arrogance is typically so ingrained that even situations as spectacular as this can fail to instill the proper caution.

"Well reasoned, your majesty." the Black Elf gazed upon her exclusively, seeing in her his true folly.

Uanor dreamed of impregnating a Princess and causing an international scandal. A good dream, he thought, but now the scales fell from his eyes and the truth burned brightly before him. He dreamed too small. For what is greater than impregnating a Princess and causing an international scandal?

Impregnating an Empress and causing an interuniversal scandal.

Uanor's eyes glowed brightly at the opportunity to live out his dream in an even grander fashion from the hints of anti-Elf bigotry he picked up on from her entourage, "I am Prince Uanor of Mordor. Son of King Thrag the First-Father and Queen Consort Eltariel, the former Blade of Galadriel."

The Empress gave her courtiers and nobles a severe glare briefly to further instill her command with this newest example.

A hooded and cloaked servant brought him a cross cut of shank braised in vegetables, white wine, and broth over a risotto bed garnished with a green sauce composed of… parsley, garlic, and lemon zest. Little could hide from his nose.

It came with a chalice of chilled full bodied red wine.

Delightful.

"Ketojan's forces are quite different from those of my other fathers." Uanor led the conversation with an opportunity to speak of herself.

"Indeed." the Empress nodded, "Ketojan is far more secretive and circumspect than the other incarnations of your father seem to be. He is rather reviled publicly in our world, but we understand that to be entirely of his own choosing, and after seeing just how far spread his cult has become, we know that to now be entirely the truth. There are a great many royals and nobles from many lands here at His Table."

"But none so high as the Empress." a man in a shining bronze mask noted much to the face level happiness of the entourage.

"So he leads a secret cult of cannibals?" Uanor chuckled.

"Among other things." the Empress responded.

Uanor's eyebrow rose and he smirked, "How could I forget the sex in your secret cannibal sex cult? How silly of me, the secret part must have thrown me for a loop. My father is a very direct being after all."

The Empress merely gave him a faint smile.

Even with their time as cultists of Ketojan's Table loosening their uptight sensibilities, the Orlaisian courtiers and nobles did not like at all the predatory grin exposing Uanor's sharp white teeth as he gazed so fixedly at the Empress.