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  1. - Top - End - #721
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Lonna's Avatar

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    Pyrene

    Wulfric's willingness to admit his (unconcious?) reaction, and to speak honestly as a result, did a lot to thaw Pyrene's chilly attitude. Besides, keeping it up was simply too tiring. How long has it been since I ate with the Baron? A day? Two? And on top of that I'm exhausted from healing Wulfric. Damn. And no money for food either. I'm too tired for my normal work, and I'd stand out too much begging in this dress.

    Pyrene was jolted out of her thoughts when Wulfric groaned, announcing his intention to get some sleep, and neatly solved her money problem by laying out three gold coins. For an instant after he put them on the table, she looked up and their eyes met. Then he smiled and stepped back, joking about hunting her down if she disappeared on him.

    Was he... about to kiss me? Impossible. To him I am a reminder of happy times, nothing more. But then what...?

    "Don't go yet!"
    she blurted as Wulfric started to leave. "Please, share a meal with me," she added quickly, blushing slightly at her unaccustomed outburst. "I'm not... I don't want to be left alone just now. And frankly, I'm not sure I can leave this room until I've eaten something. I haven't eaten since the day I was... taken out of your custody. I'm not sure how long ago that was, and I've used my magic a few times since then."

    Pyrene shook her head slightly, tucking two of the gold coins into the bandages that hid her prisoner branding, a task which prevented her from seeing Wulfric's reaction to her admission of weakness. "One coin should feed us both adequately, and I'd appreciate the company."

    When she looked up, Wulfric hadn't moved, and his expression was carefully neutral. "I'll just order supper for us then, shall I?"

    Pyrene nodded, feeling a surge of what she refused to acknowledge as relief. However weak she might feel at the moment, she didn't need or want Wulfric to protect her. She didn't.

    The meal was oddly remeniscient of their first, albiet on plainer fare. By unspoken agreement they avoided discussing anything of significant substance, bantering lightly. Pyrene mentioned her desire to spend part of her "nightcap" on expanding her wardrobe - it had been a while since she had had more than one set of clothes at a time - and invited his opinion on whether she ought to purchase breeches or skirts. Wulfric recounted various humorous anecdotes from his time as a soldier, and Pyrene found herself laughing more than she had in months - perhaps years.

    In fact, she enjoyed herself so much that when they finally parted for the evening, she was able to dismiss the memories of her unusually realistic dreams. Even the nagging feeling that Titania would be seeking her again were set aside for the moment. She would have to tell Wulfric about Titania sooner or later, but for now she had two gold coins tucked against her skin and a bed waiting for her.

    Smiling to herself, Pyrene headed for the room she had woken up in, secure in the certainty that anything else could wait until morning.
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  2. - Top - End - #722
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    OverWilliam's Avatar

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    ~Tare

    Tare gasped quietly for breath as his mind rushed back into his body. Without thinking he returned Melcara's grasp, catching her feebly by the wrist in an effort not to fall over backwards. All of a sudden he was sweating as his mind and body both tried to figure out what just happened to them and what should be done next. Finally, though, he managed to wander a short distance in order to get his back against a wall around a random corner and out of sight from the mysterious Scarred figure where he could close his eyes and take a few breaths. "...Something just happened and I'm not sure what. ...That was kinda scary." Tare didn't try to say anything else until his breathing had slowed some, and then sank to the floor at the base of the wall. "...Wait a sec... You said I... "didn’t seem like I was here at all"? What does that mean...? Did I just space out, or did I... literally... y'know... disappear?"

    After Melcara's responce, "...That... has never happened to me before. I saw... something. I think... I think I saw his Past." Tare ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, struggling to cope with this thought. "Is that even possible? I've never even heard of..."
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  3. - Top - End - #723
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Archpaladin Zousha's Avatar

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    Hondshioh

    "I have been sent here to be the eyes and ears of another. We both know that something's rotten in the state of the church, and my allies and I seek to correct that. But I'm sure you and I both know that the church is too powerful to confront unaware of the dangers. So I have come to see and tell what I see. But I am a stranger here. I do not know where to start looking, nor how to keep silent. I stand amid the blinding light of Miriam and Athelion, and as such, I cannot keep to the shadows well. I know that beggars, however, know the shadows better than any. You see and hear all, even when you stand in the middle of broad daylight these people do not see you. What I need is information. I need people willing to help me see and hear in this place where the light of the gods is covered by shadows and lies. If you do this for me, I will make sure you never go hungry again. And I can do the same for others willing to help, if you know any."

    He waits hesitantly for Emma's answer, hoping he'd couched it in enough metaphor to get the point across without openly saying "Hey, I'm a spy trying to bring down corruption in the Council, can you and the other local beggars gather information for me?"
    "Reach down into your heart and you'll find many reasons to fight. Survival. Honor. Glory. But what about those who feel it's their duty to protect the innocent? There you'll find a warrior savage enough to match any dragon, and in the end, they'll retain what the others won't. Their humanity."

  4. - Top - End - #724
    Bugbear in the Playground
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    As Katrina snaps back her venomous response to Korram's attempt at getting her to release Sara, he listens impassively. He had underestimated Katrina's level of rage, and avoiding violence was going to be much harder than he thought. Words are not Korram's strong suit, and he finds himself at a loss for a few seconds as he tries to figure out a way to talk Katrina down.

    Incom takes a more direct approach.

    As Katrina is blasted by the rogue GHAST's wing, Korram whirls on Incom with an enraged snarl. Unable to put his fury into words, he turns away angrily and strides towards Katrina and Sara, intending to separate them. Sara manages to break free before he gets there, and he halts uncertainly. Because of this, he doesn't notice as Incom prepares to decisively end the confrontation until Sara gets in the way. He doesn't move until Incom stands down, then glares at him again.

    He is relieved as Sara tries to reconcile with Katrina, satisfied that he had judged her temperament well. This does little to improve his mood, however. When Katrina leaves, he follows, keeping pace but staying a little ways behind so that she can cool off.
    Truly awesome Ark Tamaeus avatar by Bryn. Full size version here.

  5. - Top - End - #725
    Bugbear in the Playground
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    Grandmaster Ander Windrivver

    Ander's jaw clenches as Crane continues to spin his web of lies. He sits silent for a moment after Crane finishes, allowing himself to digest everything that was said.

    You insult every paladin in this room when you suggest that those who perished in the Crusade threw their lives away needlessly. His voice is a low, measured rumble emanating from deep within his chest. Yes, it is true that many brave men and women died under my command. It is also true that every single one of them knew what they signed up for when they joined the Crusade. The most dangerous assignments were always executed by units who volunteered for the task. Ask Belroar if you don't believe me. The Shields under his command volunteered for some of the most dangerous assignments in the entire Crusade.

    Ander breathes deeply and leans back, steepling his fingers. Crane's story is just that. A story. A few facts from my life wrapped in a web of lies, like so many other things to come out of his mouth.

    However, I do not want this hearing to devolve into the Exarch and I hurling insults across the table at each other. I suggest that we listen to what Grandmaster Milner has to say.
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  6. - Top - End - #726
    Orc in the Playground
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    Sohssal

    Sohssal let out a menacing chuckle at Shanks, since he couldn't really make a mischievous grin anymore. "I wouldn't describe it as opulent anymore...but you may rest there nonetheless, he said. Then Sohssal turned to Omega for a moment. He "sniffed" to briefly examine the state of her magic. "Is something wrong, Omega?" he asked, more out of curiosity than concern.

    Regardless of Omega's state, Sohssal would not choose to rest. He needed to get his sources of magical power back online - there's no way he could repair his lab on his current reserves. Perhaps he'd repair his chambers for..."studying" demons first. He wouldn't mind learning more about Omega's unique condition, and repairing her wouldn't be too draining, either. And even if she perished, corpses were full of information, too.

  7. - Top - End - #727
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    WhiteKnight777's Avatar

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    Umber

    Umber sighed a little, wishing for once that he still had Bran along. The boy was a savant-by-design, and if he'd still been possessed of all his magical faculties, he would have been exceedingly useful here. Still, wishes and horses and beggars and all that. He dismissed the thought from his mind and stood back, careful not to actually lean on the filthy sewer wall as he considered his options, trying to clear his mind of the filth and the stench and the aches and pains. Gods, but there were some things he had not missed about mortality. This damned lump of flesh trying to give him orders, afire with a hundred conflicting impulses and irrational needs. It was like riding a half-trained ape riding a rat riding a lizard.

    He sighed again, forcing himself into a state of tranquility. Long years of magical practice and self-discipline came to his aid as one by one, he suppressed his distractions, until his mind was like an enormous, crystal-clear lake. And down he dove, pushing out his mage sight - careful, of course, for traps that would target just such a mental approach. He perused the outside of the enchantment, looking for any sign of what it might be, any weakpoint... and then another idea came to him. Instead of reaching out with his power, he drew it inwards, like a vacuum. He channeled what he remembered of his vampiric hunger, letting the essence of that hunger suffuse the wellspring of his soul - and rather than giving magic out, he began to draw it in, draining away the very energy of the spell, unraveling the threads of magical energy and drawing them into himself. At the same time, he began to weave a spell of his own - an infusion of power and vitality, suffusing his body and mind with a temporary clarity and strength that would - he hoped - aid him in the conflict to come. And, of course, he readied himself in case he needed to discharge the excess...

  8. - Top - End - #728
    Titan in the Playground
     
    The_Snark's Avatar

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    Marisiel

    After uncounted years of fighting against demons, spirits, and even mortals, Marisiel had still not found a way to prepare herself for battle. She sometimes envied Ysora, who had, and Hephestia, whose nature was such that she did not need to. Hephestia was the youngest of the three, wrought after Miriam had seen fit to weave anger into the world, and righteous wrath—the desire and even need to punish wrongdoing—came much easier to her. Her sisters among the archangels were elder, preceding to some degree the creation of anger; and Marisiel, at least, had never become fully accustomed to it.

    Ysora's methods were more to her liking, but Marisiel was unable to emulate them. Thoughts crept in inevitably whenever she tried to clear her mind, thoughts like: why did this happen? What should we have done differently?

    How did it come to this?


    Marisiel glanced sideways as Istomilo echoed what she'd thought so many times before. It was the first thing he'd said to her in some time. Oh, they'd spoken a few times, discussed matters of tactics and asked for advice on the Queen's sorcery, but he'd been speaking to one of the Valkyrie's generals, not to her. There was for some reason a difference, to her mind. And in fairness, she had not been speaking to Istomilo, former Prince-Consort of Phaedra, who'd chosen Heaven and her above his own people. She'd been speaking to a military advisor, who could have been anyone but just so happened to be him.

    She didn't know how to talk to Istomilo the person anymore. It was- there was something about him that made it harder than it used to be, or maybe it was her who'd changed. She didn't know what she wanted to say to him, much less how to say it. So she'd retreated into business; it wasn't as though the war effort didn't demand their every waking hour. In turn, he had made no effort to talk to her, which made her think he didn't want to, which only made it worse...

    Until now.

    "Everything moves so quickly down here," she said, offering her own meandering thoughts. Miriam's anger at the Queen of Phaedra had yet to abate; for Heaven, the betrayal was still fresh. Marisiel, who'd spent the war going back and forth, was beginning to realize just how significant the difference between the two realms was. The Valkyrie's perfectly rational anger seemed an undying, terrible thing down here, and she sometimes wondered if that time differential might be to blame; if the goddess had years to think, perhaps she would find some other way... But then, Titania had had ten years to think, and she hadn't drawn back from the war at all. So perhaps the blame lay on Titania after all, and not on the differences between Heaven and Earth.

    Not much of a conversation, but it was more than they'd shared for years. "I'm glad we don't have to destroy her," she offered, hoping to spark more.
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  9. - Top - End - #729
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kasanip's Avatar

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    Isera Harvent

    Isera nodded when her father offered the information on the contact. A lot of his discussion were things that she had thought of already, and so she thought ironically that it was a good thing she was on the same course.

    The name Cynthia Whitehall was one Isera knew, but she had not heard it for a long time. If it was true she wasn't too far away, then it may be wise to go and contact her. It was always good to have more allies.

    And speaking of allies, Theresea's voice came out, and Isera knew that, though it was not unexpected, she had really hoped Carlain would have made sure not to have been followed. Isera sighed and then mustered a rueful smile before turning to Theresea.
    "Not local children." She agreed. "But we are human, and after you stated your dislike of magic, well...it would have been awkward to tell you we could use it."

    "Of course, I suppose we failed to avoid the awkwardness now. But we aren't a danger to you- actually we came to investigate the disaster in the village. One of our people was here...and died in the catastrophe. But it looks like our journey will point us towards Gast now."

    Isera looked at Theresea curiously. "What do you intend to do now?"
    Kasanip's Sketchbook 2 Thread
    It is difficult to speak English, please excuse mistakes kindly m(_ _)m

  10. - Top - End - #730
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    OldWizardGuy

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    Incom Morgan

    …so easy, one last shot, back of the skull, another enemy gone, keeping her safe, damning me even more…

    Pushing the raging thoughts back into a dim corner of his body Incom staggers slightly as his body slowly starts to repair itself. Still the damage was done, the blows he took would weaken him. Eyeing the wreckage on the ground of the two destroyed GHASTS he expressionless face would have smiled if possible.

    ”Korram, check on Sara throat wound.”

    Kneeling next to the bodies he stabs his hands into them. The Orichalum warps slightly as it was already starting to dissolve now that the power-source of the two GHASTs were destroyed. Yet there was enough time. Touching the Orichalum he feeds himself into it, and slowly starts to draw it away from the wreckage. Flowing like molten metal it washes over Incom, filling in the various holes and punctures from the short yet devastating battle. There was much more than needed however, and with a mental smile he started armoring up further, adding another layer of plating. Along the left arm a shield-shaped protrusion formed and solidified. The ground groaned under him as his mass increased from the additional Orichalum yet as he stood he felt no different, if anything stronger. Laying on the ground was just the metallic framework used as a frame for the GHASTs, still looking evil and scary to a layperson but to Incom they were sadly small and weak looking.

    A glittering blueish light catches his senses and he looks over to the side. Lying among what appeared to be shattered crystals is a small blue one, glowing weakly on the ground. Reaching down to it he picks it up, identifying it quickly as the power-crystal which contains the angel soul which powered that GHAST. Tingling whispers of thought touches across his mind as he holds it, feelings of despair, loneness, futility yet a glimmer of hope that it was over, fear that it would never again know it’s old life.

    ”What has he done to you angel.”

    Whispering to the crystal it seems to shift in his hand, the feelings coming across differently. It was scared, an unusual sensation, dimly muted yet it wanted to help, to strike, to make it’s sacrifice matter. Raising his hand to his chest Incom finds himself slowly pushing the crystal into his torso, the Orichalum folding around it as it slowly inserts until it is fully within his body.

    Within his mind he feels the presence of the angel in him.

    ”Who are you? What is your name?”

    Waiting for the answer he turns around, his bodying moving oddly as he get’s used to his additional armor and mass. Looking down at Sara his blue glowing eyes examine her and he notices that during his upgrading that Korram left.

    ”We need to move. We don’t have much time before more GHASTs arrive. Where did Korram go?”
    Last edited by Pwenet; 2010-07-25 at 12:26 PM.
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    Quote Originally Posted by Inspectre
    I'm good at making you fear the unknown. Pwenet is good at making you fear the known, which had been the unknown five minutes before he pushed you off screaming into the abyss.
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    I'm feeling this real hard now.
    Curse you, Pwenet. Curse you.... You had my hopes up there...

  11. - Top - End - #731
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    Gorgondantess's Avatar

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    She revels in the sensations of the metal, until her captive wakes up. She laughs at Maurice's comment, shaking her head. "No, no, dearie. Not the first, for certain, though I suppose the latter is partially true. I'd rather destroy the whole of my followers than you: this is driven by... that human word...
    Aesthetics. Yes, aesthetics... You see, I respect you, I only respect you. Thus, the artistically inclined part of me desires to spare your life, as a human would likely not destroy a stained glass window. Meanwhile, my pragmatic side tells me that you are a veritable goldmine of information that I might glean from, and the... leader in me knows that, as long as I have you, I have a symbol of my eternal victory against these cruel and vindictive gods."
    She muses as she speaks, pacing the room, but then she turns to Maurice, all seriousness.
    "Of course, for the same reason I respect you and have spared you, I am wary of you. I will bring you along in my travels... but meanwhile, I understand that, at the opportune moment, you could prove critical in harming my cause- I don't believe I can die, as far as the word is concerned, so don't bother with that- but you may force a great victory out of my grasp. As such, understand this: I am a just individual. Acts of subservience will be met with kindness and freedoms. But if you decide to betray me, I won't kill you."
    She bends down, and gouges a stone out of the floor.
    "I won't kill you, because really, that isn't an effective threat. You'll just go to your gods, and I'll be out a stained glass window. If you decide to betray me, I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth- if I can start a cult to destroy Athelion, I can find you...
    And all I ask, now, is that you watch this rock," and here she assimilates the rock, showing Maurice the process in detail, slowly.
    "And I will do the same to you. I will assimilate your being into my own, taking your powers for my own, and not even your soul will escape. Your energies will be mine, and I will use them to strike down your allies, your brethren, and your liege. You won't be dead. You'll be mine."

    She gets up, looking down at Maurice.
    "I've been forthright with you, so I do hope you'll treat me the same. You can start by lowering the pretense.
    Meanwhile, do Angels eat? I can't have my prisoner starving."
    She returns to all smiles.
    Marceline Abadeer by Gnomish Wanderer

  12. - Top - End - #732
    Troll in the Playground
     
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    Dawn’s Hope - Monastery

    Baerdog7

    “And what will that accomplish besides cloud the issue? I’ve already told you that Quincy is the one to blame for all this!” Crane presses, but the protector cuts him off.

    “Let us hear what Grandmaster Milner has to say. There is no harm in gathering all available information first before returning to the . . . ah, spirited debate at hand.”

    Seeing that this was his cue, the grandmaster pushed back his chair and adjusted his papers in front of him.

    “Yes . . . well, we conducted an examination of one of the bodies Grandmaster Windrivver sent to us.” The aged grandmaster began, running the fingers of one hand through his clipped beard.

    “We have concluded that despite the fact that, well, we do have a body, it is unmistakably the body of an angel.”

    A low murmur passes through the assembly for a moment, but unlike the revealations presented by you and Crane, this one seemed to have been expected. After a few moments, the hubbub dies down without any gavel pounding, and Milner continues.

    “We discovered a series of interlocking brands covering much of the skin. They initially seemed to be similar to unholy brands occasionally used by the Forger of Oblivion’s minions to combat angelic regeneration. Obviously, as any normal brands would be erased in short order by the angel’s divine regeneration. What was odd in this case, however, was that the runes seemed to be an odd mix of arcane and holy writings.”

    Milner paused for a moment to peer through the sheaf of papers in front of him.

    “We aren’t sure what all of the runes are for, exactly, nor how they are all supposed to align together. It seems probable that several different effects are created. As the angel had already perished, it was impossible to study the effects beyond residual signatures. Certainly, controlling the angel’s behavior was likely one of them.”

    Another, angrier murmur passes through the assembled grandmasters, but is silenced as Milner holds up one wizened hand.

    “There was also another curiosity that we found, this one inside the angel’s actual body. A magical crystal, implanted just under the ribcage, next to the heart. We . . . have reason to believe that it contains the unfortunate angel’s essence.”

    Now, at last, the entire room breaks into a loud ruckus once more, and this time it takes numerous swings of the protector’s gavel to bring the situation back under control.

    “Please explain that last statement further, Grandmaster. Are you saying that the angel’s soul was trapped in this crystal?”

    After a moment’s pause to consider the question, Milner nods.

    “Without question. Most likely at the time of her death. It is entirely possible that this capturing of the soul was what prevented her body from disintegrating as well. We briefly considered attempting to reverse the process, but were understandably hesitant to tamper with the crystal. In time, we may be able to figure out a way to transfer the angel’s soul back out of the crystal, but for now it is impossible.”

    Before attention could turn away from him, Milner held up his hand again.

    “However! However . . . we believe it may be possible to commune with the angel’s soul, if the council believes such a thing is necessary. It may put undue strain on the trapped soul, and there’s no guarantee the commune with allow actual communication with the angel.”

    At this point, the protector turns to you with a studious expression.

    “Well, Grandmaster Ander? Currently, this is your period of time to make your case before this assembly. If you believe attempting to speak with this angel would be a good use of the assembly’s time, then certainly we should move forward on this. However, I am still not convinced it will be relevant to the matter at hand, particularly given Exarch Crane’s insistence that Exarch Quincy was acting alone. If you have any other, more damning proof of the entire Council’s guilt, now might be the time to present it before we begin investigating these side issues.”

    Archpaladin Zousha

    At your words, Emma gives an appreciative chuckle and a nod.

    “Aye, no one notices poor old Emma. Except, of course, nice young men like yourself.”

    Emma shoots an annoyed glance out at the busy street, full of people moving right past you both. Katashiko as well, although at least a few men shoot furtive and appreciative glances her way.

    “Not that there’s many nice young men left out there in the world these days. But that just makes you all the more appreciated to these old eyes.”

    The old woman pats the back of your hands, while surreptitiously slipping the coins you had initially offered into the folds of her rags. She then offers you one withered hand.

    “Now, why don’t you be a dear and help old Emma up. We can go somewhere a bit more private to discuss things.”

    Letting the old beggar take the lead, you slowly make your way down the street, shortly turning off the main thoroughfare for the back alleys. You note a number of seedy-looking people lurking about in these alleyways. Under different circumstances, you may very well have approached them and questioned them as to their intentions. Now however, it seemed very likely that you would be working with a number of these people against a far greater foe. You still weren’t sure how you felt about that, but couldn’t deny you probably wouldn’t get very far without them.

    Eventually, you find yourselves in what seemed to be what passed for the bottom-most rung’s version of a bar, set up in someone’s basement. Emma was apparently familiar with the establishment here, as after motioning to the man starting behind the “bar, really just several piled up crates, she led you into a small side room and pulled the curtain shut.

    As she slouched into a chair made out of a barrel, Emma breathed a sigh of relief and started rubbing her legs and back.

    “These bones are not so good at traveling anymore, but my eyes are as sharp as ever.” She announces, earning another snort for Katashiko. Even so, your new traveling companion and ward looked around appreciatively.

    “I have to say though . . . this looks like my kind of place. They do serve alcohol of some kind here, right?”

    “Best stuff to put a hole in your stomach!” Emma announces with a wide grin, earning a slight smirk from Katashiko in response.

    “Perfect. You two have a nice chat – I’ll be over there at the bar, pretending to get wasted and toying with the barkeep.”

    After Katashiko moves off, Emma gives you a knowing smile as she inclines her head at the spot the Mistress of Earth just vacated.

    “So, your friend, is she your, aww . . . well, what do you kids call it these days? A “special” friend?”

    Stonefall

    The_Snark

    At your comment, intended to be reassuring, Istomilo gives a harsh laugh.

    “Yes, instead she will merely be imprisoned for all eternity. My daughter is the one who will be destroyed without “mercy”.” The bitterness in Istomilo’s tone drips from every word. The broken traitor shakes his head. “I am sure Titania would rather be ripped apart in the most agonizing fashion imaginable, if it meant she wouldn’t have to remain forever as a trophy on the Valkyrie’s window sill!”

    Istomilo runs his hands through his hair and sighs, shooting you a sheepish sideways glance. “Forgive me – this is not your fault. I am the one who came up with the idea. I just . . . I don’t want to see her wiped out of existence. Even if it means inflicting upon her the worst fate she could imagine, I want to hold on to the hope that someday, somehow . . . she’ll come around and everything can go back to normal. Is that . . . is that wrong?”

    Istomilo awaits for your response, and then softly chuckles.

    “You know, I’ve never forgotten that night all those years ago, the night Titania ascended to the throne and we first met. I suppose to you, it happened only yesterday, but it’s been almost twenty years for me. I can still remember it clearly though . . . I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Do you remember that night, Marisiel? Do you still have my gift – that silly little flower I made out a wineglass?”

    A few moments later, Hephestia swooped up to join you. She does not even acknowledge Istomilo’s presence, her attention entirely on you.

    “My sister, the final preparations are complete. We will be starting the assault within moments. Considering you are most familiar with the layout of the palace, perhaps you should lead our strike force? It would not do for us to become lost in the palace’s labyrinthine quarters, dragging out the battle longer than necessary and causing additional human deaths.”

    An ever so slight smile crosses Hephestia’s lips – she is aware of your dislike of battle, and your feelings for humans in general. She is still an archangel of Miriam, and thus beyond reproach . . . but that didn’t stop her from occasionally putting you into uncomfortable situations. Perhaps it was her own misguided way of trying to help you overcome what she saw as “weakness”.

    The Island of Dr(?) Sohssal

    Iethloc

    Examining Omega, you note that her aura does seem diminished from what it once was. Worse, it seems to be fluctuating, and ever so gradually, almost imperceptibly, waning.

    I am tired. Rest should help.

    A moment later, Omega added to that statement.

    No, I suspect I am more than tired. Perhaps maintaining this mental link has been a greater drain on my body than anticipated. Or, perhaps . . . something else has gone wrong internally. Do you have the equipment to conduct an examination of my body?

    There’s an invitation if I ever heard one.

    Most of your lab was still currently underwater, which meant either fixing that first or conducting a substandard observation of Omega’s condition using the one secondary lab currently not flooded. Being closest to your manor, of course, it contained the least dangerous specimens and thus had the least amount of equipment that would be useful in this matter. Theoretically, you might also be able to grant Omega the ability to magically breathe underwater, but that would expend some of your precious remaining reserves. And you had a lot of work to do before you could return everything back to normal, at which point you would have almost limitless magical reserves, being able to summon more elementals/demons for draining as needed.

    Outside the Capital

    Pwenet

    Aware of your own design, at least enough to understand the basics of how you are constructed, you know that in the event of catastrophic failure the GHASTs are equipped with levers designed to crush the crystals into power. The fact that this crystal escaped intact was likely a fortuitous result of you bodily tearing it out of the not so fortunate GHAST. Future attempts might not be so lucky, but at least now you had an additional angelic power source.

    More importantly, this so-called power source was not surrounded by layers of safeguards – which one corner of your mind was still slowly trying to unravel – and thus exposed to outside contact. As you examine the crystal, you feel a faint presence tentatively come into contact with your own mind. This isn’t entirely unexpected – the “angelic power source” was in fact the soul of an angel, twisted and harnessed for the sole purpose of animating your construct body. Without the safeguards in place, it would be entirely possible for some fragment of the angel’s “essence” to drift into contact with your mind.

    But . . . then the presence recoils as you insert the crystal into your chest plating. It responds to your queries by attempting to flee, scurrying back away from your mind and looking for a way out - any way out. Which of course, there was none, but that didn’t stop the waves of unabated fear from continuing to seep out of the crystal. Likely this was the reason for the safeguards in the first place, to stop these emotions from contaminating the GHAST’s thought processes as it went about its business of murdering and destroying. But now you knew that there was another reason as well.

    If the power source crystal merely contained a soul, it might have some lingering emotions or sensations attached. But it would not be capable of responding – only the mind could do that. Which meant that your design schematics were lying – these crystals didn’t just contain souls. They contain souls and minds, albeit the shredded, broken thing now crawling around in the dark corners of your mind could hardly be called a “mind” anymore. How typical of the Baron to rip and tear, and then trap the remains, sadistically forcing it to remain, to look on what had been done to it, and watch as it was used to do the same to others.

    Apparently now aware that it was not able to escape, the angel finally responds to your question. It is disjointed and fractured, more a sensation than actual conscious thought, but put into words it would most likely be something along the lines of:

    don’thurtmedon’thurtmedon’thurtmedon’thurtmedon’th urtmedon’thurtmedon’thurtmedon’thurtmedon’thurtmed on’thurtmedon’thurtmedon’thurtmedon’thurtmedon’thu rtme

    Along with the half-formed thought, the angel’s emotions shift again, to submission and despair – there was no chance you would honor its request.

    Meanwhile, the rest of your mind was still associating with Sara, who was checking her bandaged leg and gingerly holding the bleeding spot on her neck. Thankfully, those wounds were minor scratches, and should not require medical treatment unless they became infected – much like her leg, really. As always, Sara seemed to have a supernatural amount of luck in avoiding serious injury.

    “He moved off into the forest, after Katrina.” Sara reported, turning to point off into the woods. Beckoning you to follow, she immediately begins to stumble off in the opposite direction, her leg still not in good enough shape to properly support her weight.

    “We should go this way! My father is going to send more GHASTs after us, and it’s clear they will kill Korram and Katrina if they get the chance. Hopefully by going in different directions we can draw most of the GHASTs away from them!”

    Sara pauses, stopping almost in mid-stride and teetering precariously as she turns back to look at you uncertainly.

    “At least . . . I *think* that’s a good idea? I’ve never really done this before. I’ve never really wanted to do this before . . .” Sara whispers, lowering her head a moment. Her gaze snaps back up to you as a sudden thought occurs to her.

    “Mother is alright, isn’t she? You . . . you didn’t really do those things you said back there . . . did you?”

    Dorizzit

    After the confrontation comes to a decisive end, you follow Katrina off into the forest. She does not seem to have a destination in mind, but simply plows straight through the forest at a determined pace. Considering the probable response the Baron was mobilizing right now, it was probably a good idea to get as far away as possible before those surviving GHASTs report back. Every now and then, Katrina pauses, grunting as she stops to flex and examine her badly burned shoulder. Or, the hem of her frilly pink dress catches on an exposed root, and she has to tear her way free, often with several sharp curses.

    Finally however, she does stop, breathing heavily as she leans against a nearby tree for support. Suddenly, she snarls in rage and delivers several furious punches to the trunk of the tree, stopping with a gasp of pain as at least one of her fingers gives way before the tree does. Cradling her freshly injured hand, Katrina slumps to the ground, turning to place her back up against the trunk a moment ago she had been furiously assaulting.

    Leaning her head back to rest against the trunk, Katrina closes her eyes and sighs, grimacing as the uninjured hand of her burnt shoulder continues to cradle her half-broken hand. Then, her entire body seems to shudder as her shoulders start to rise and fall rapidly. So out of place is the sight with what you’ve come to learn of your daughter that it takes until the first silent tears begin to streak down her face for you to realize that she is crying.

    Lonna

    As you are traveling back to the inn room, you are shaken out of your thoughts by a . . . strange feeling. It is difficult to describe the sensation – certainly you had never felt anything like it. A sort of electric jolt tingling down your spine, mixed with an odd sense of déjà vu. Your eyes come up to focus on a horse-drawn carriage just pulling up to your inn. The curtains are drawn over the windows, preventing you from seeing inside, although you do note one of them fluttering as if recently moved aside.

    You aren’t sure you like the sight of the carriage at all, and certainly this bizarre sense of familiarity is disturbing you even more. Your paranoia kicking into high gear, you begin to turn around and head off further down the street. There were other inns in the hamlet you could stay in – the place was built off of travelers to the capital, after all. Before you manage two tired steps, however, you hear a voice call out behind you.

    “Excuse me! Miss!”

    Glancing over your shoulder, you see that the carriage’s driver has rapidly descended from the carriage, and his now approaching you. As he nears, his pace slows, and you note an odd stiffness to his movements. Perhaps it’s just an aftereffect from sitting still, riding over bumpy roads for hours on end.

    “Miss, milady saw you walking down the street. She wished me to compliment you on the fine choice of dress. She was also wondering if you wouldn’t mind having a late repast with her, and discuss what tailor you hired to construct it.”

    The dress was certainly of fine make, and despite your escape from the Baron’s clutches, and held up relatively well with only a few minor tears. Still, the hem was rather dirty, and it really wasn’t the sort of thing to be venturing around in – hence the desire to purchase some new clothes in the morning. Apparently, it was too late for that, as you had already been noticed by someone.

    “Please.” The man groans, and you suspect that this invitation was not voluntary. Which meant, to your paranoid mind at least, that this conversation was not going to be about the dress at all but you instead. There were few people out on the street at this hour, and even if it were midday you were smart enough to doubt anyone would come to rescue if things got violent. You might be able to turn and run before the driver could react, but that might just get you shot in the back by whoever was in the carriage, and you were rather tired. You wouldn’t be able to flee long if this turned into a sustained pursuit . . . and frankly, you’d had enough of running for your life lately. And it was entirely possible that despite the oddness of it all, you were just imagining the worst, and it really was someone simply curious as to how you came by such a lovely dress. If only you weren’t Pyrene the Temptress, that might actually be a believable lie.

    Dark Falls

    Kasanip

    Although you turn to face Theresea’s voice, the demon huntress does not make an appearance. Your Phantasmal Descrying Eye, having just recently come back, was not able to discern anything, save the presence of magic not your own in the area. Apparently, despite her disdain of magic, Theresea was not above using an Invisibility spell of her own.

    “So you lied to me. Not entirely unexpected I suppose, given the situation.” Theresea’s voice calls out, now coming from off to your right.

    “But it does mean that I have no reason to trust anything you say! For all I know, “your man” could have been one of the damn demon worshippers! You mages are all the same.”

    “Well maybe if all you non-mages weren’t so quick to shout, “It’s a witch! Burn her!” we mages wouldn’t have to be so secretive.” Carlain spits back.

    For now, Theresea seems to ignore Carlain, focusing all her attention on you. At your question of what would happen now, Theresea pauses a moment, perhaps choosing her words or perhaps thinking what she does want. Again, now even further off to your right, but a little closer now, her voice calls out.

    “I want answers! You will tell me who you both really are, who you work for, and who that was you were just speaking to. You will tell me why your cabal is so interested in the destruction of Darkfalls, and how you knew about the destruction so quickly! And anything else you might like to add to convince me that the two of you are merely foolish, and not dangerous mages meddling in affairs far beyond your station!”

    “And if we refuse, I suppose you’ll just kill us?” Carlain scoffs, flexing his fingers as if getting ready to start throwing fireballs around. Probably a bad idea in the middle of a forest, but then Carlain had proven to be rash, particularly when provoked.

    “No.” Answers Theresea. “I merely get my answers in a far less polite and pleasant way – for you.”

    Carlain seems about to open his mouth, and then wonder of wonders, he stops and glances over at you. Perhaps the boy was capable of learning something after all. Although, it seems likely that your response to Theresea’s ultimatum would have a strong influence on his future development. If you refused, would that reinforce his antagonistic behavior? And if you agreed, would that then teach him to cave in to demands under pressure?

    The Capital

    WhiteKnight777

    Cleansing your mind of the obnoxious facts of existence as a human, you carefully stretch out your senses. Fianna could not be underestimated, and even though the magic imbued into the door seemed relatively minor, that could simply be because it was merely a trigger for a far worse result. Surprisingly, the spell itself seemed fairly innocuous – merely an alarm spell. Apparently, Fianna was relatively confident in the area’s complete secrecy to keep intruders out.

    Taking no chances, you drain away the magic of the spell, absorbing its energies into your own body. It wasn’t nearly as efficient as the efforts of that ghost mage you encountered, Sohssal – now there was an interesting fellow – but it did the job all the same. Using the excess magic to boost your own spell, you strengthen your body for the oncoming fight.

    Then, confident you were ready as much as possible for Fianna’s welcome, you check the doorway once more for traps before throwing the door open. As was typical for this night, you were to be disappointed. Short of lurking invisibly, Fianna was not present in the sparse living quarters beyond the door.

    It was immediately clear that this was not Fianna’s home – her main base of operations within the capital, certainly – but not her own personal lair. That may very well still be far to the north across the sea, in the frozen wastes. Or, it could be some other secluded location, possibly even the caverns beneath Ironheart, considering for a number of years she was the Hierarch’s creature. It seems she still had the foresight to have a backup plan for extinguishing herself in the event destroying the entire world didn’t work, however.

    Judging by the state of the room, Fianna had not left in haste, so she still probably wasn’t aware you were still on her trail. Where that trail might lead, however, was perhaps a bit more prickly of an issue – there was no indication of where she had gone, or even when she had left, and of course, whether or not she planned to return.

    All of these questions and more, however, might have answers forthcoming – sitting tauntingly on the small writing desk in one corner of the cramped but clean room was an envelop. The way it was positioned in the middle of the desk suggested it had been left there deliberately. The fact that it had your name scrawled on it in Fianna’s precise lettering was also a major clue that this had been left for you.

    There did not seem to be any magic within the room, or the envelope or presumably the letter contained within. However, that did not rule out contact poison or some other sort of devious mechanical trap set up within the room – you had observed all this from the safety of the doorway.

    OverWilliam

    After a dramatic pause of just staring at you, Melcara chuckles.

    “No, you just blanked out, as if your mind was somewhere else entirely.”

    At your next question, her expression turns somewhat more serious.

    “It is possible, at leave vaguely. Angels, for example, can often divine most of a person’s sins just by looking into their soul. It’s not viewing their past exactly, but we can at least know what they have done.”

    A slight flush forms on Melcara’s cheeks as she hurries on.

    “I haven’t used it on you, of course. Can’t, really – I lost that power long ago. But I wouldn’t if I could – I respect your privacy.”

    Melcara coughs, switching back to pure business.

    “In any event, that’s not actually looking into the person’s past. I suppose various sorts of human magicks could potentially show such things, but it’s very rare. Certainly not accomplished by simply staring at someone like you just did. That was . . . well, that was similar to how the angels examine a person’s soul, minus the blanking out. But then, they aren’t actually experiencing the events personally. I imagine it’s similar with the human magic – merely a display of events, rather than putting your whole mind into the middle of it!”

    Melcara shakes her head and examines you curiously.

    “Are you sure you’re alright? Was what you saw any help in determining why this man is here?”

    A Meaningless Speck of a Town Soon to be Even Less

    Gorgondantess

    Maurice watches you silently as you pace about the tiny room, explaining your intentions. She likewise watches with growing curiosity as you melt the rock, absorbing it. At your mention of doing the same to her, she does not seem impressed – until you mention her soul. There, she reacts with a look of shock, as well as something else . . . something beyond fear – horror, perhaps. For a long few moments Maurice looks down, silent. But then she looks up, and on her face plainly is defiance.

    “You attack me without provocation. You steal my belongings, and even my freedom. And now, you threaten me with . . . with the worst sort of . . . violation! And you think this will all convince me to help you?”

    Maurice shakes her head and sighs.

    “I wish me to be forthright with you, and so I say that you are truly mad if you believe such things will ever convince me to aid you in any way. While I . . . do not doubt you are capable of what you claim, and will admit that such a fate . . . frightens me –“

    Here Maurice pauses, closing her eyes and leaving them shut as she takes a deep, steadying breath before finishing.

    “I am a servant of the gods. I was created to serve them, I live to serve them, and if I must die to serve them, then so be it. I will never side with you against them.”

    Slowly, Maurice opens her eyes to regard you, a look of resignation on her face.

    “Nonetheless, I will admit I am curious about you. Clearly, you are not human, and you are unlike any demon I have ever encountered or heard of . . . yet you hold such hatred for Athelion. This I do not understand – you are like some humans I have met, who hold such irrational hatred for the Gods who created them. If I am to die, will you at least explain to me why you hold such hatred? Can you even explain it yourself?”

    A brief smile fluttered across Maurcie’s lips.

    “And in answer to your question, I do not require sustenance. I am, however, perfectly capable of consuming it. I would not be very good at blending in with the humans if I was not able to eat.”
    I didn't actually intend to kill EVERYONE. It just sort of happened.

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  13. - Top - End - #733
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Archpaladin Zousha's Avatar

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    Hondshioh

    Hondshioh rubs the back of his neck and sighs.

    "No. No she isn't. She's on the run from a...complicated situation, and I volunteered to serve as a kind of chaperone for her. Technically she's a prisoner under my supervision, but she actually has a great deal more freedom in my custody than she did in her previous situation. I have nothing more to say about her, and would advise you to act with caution around her. Not more than a few minutes ago she was asking for the opportunity to end your life simply for her amusement. She was not simply jesting. She has served time in Ironheart."

    He orders a drink and then turns back to Emma.

    "Now that we're in more...amicable company, is there anything you know that can help me right now? Who are the people I should speak to for information?"
    Last edited by Archpaladin Zousha; 2010-08-15 at 01:35 AM.
    "Reach down into your heart and you'll find many reasons to fight. Survival. Honor. Glory. But what about those who feel it's their duty to protect the innocent? There you'll find a warrior savage enough to match any dragon, and in the end, they'll retain what the others won't. Their humanity."

  14. - Top - End - #734
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kasanip's Avatar

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    Isera Harvent

    Isera held her hands in an open gesture, attempting to reduce the tension.

    "Look, everyone calm down for a minute and let's be rational about this. First, you are right- you have no reason to trust anything we say.

    Though it should be said that you are using magic yourself to spy on two children in the middle of a forest. Not to mention being a supposed 'demon hunter' in the middle of a destroyed city. There seems to be pretty good reason for us not to trust you as well."
    She pointed out, being careful to not sound insulting with her words.

    Seeing Carlain flexing his fingers, Isera took his hand into her own (real one). At least that way he'd have to untangle his fingers from her's first before doing anything rash. And Isera, knowing her psalmic spells, could work without using her hand anyway.

    "Anyway, I am grateful you are willing to trust us enough to ask for answers. Let's see if we can't make a compromise?

    My name is Isera, he is Carlain. We work for, and were just speaking to my father, who sent us here on the mission to investigate the destruction of Dark Falls. We knew about it quickly for several reasons. The first reason is that there are magi very sensitive to the use of large area destructive magic. The second is that, as I am sure you know in your profession, this kind of evil, corrupt energy also leaves a strong resonance that, if you scry for, is not hard to find."


    Too strong. Isera thought ruefully, wishing her would recover faster. She took a breath and then continued.

    "And the third reason is, as I briefly explained earlier, that we had an agent who also worked for my father, who was here investigating the rumor of a cult, and when he did not report back, some investigation revealed this current state - and of that background I don't know very much. To be honest we were only told yesterday and then sent out here to investigate and report back - and that's what we just did.

    Why interested in Darkfall? I'd ask you the same thing. Why are you here? I have a feeling our 'interests' aren't so different... But then again, we know nothing of you, which is of course why we're reluctant to tell you anything."


    Isera gave Carlain's hand a gentle squeeze. She had told Theresea as much freely as possible, though there quite honestly wasn't much else she could say. It wasn't really a lie to say she worked for her father. The complexity of that situation didn't need to be explained to Carlain, much less to this invisible hunter.

    "As for being foolish.... Well, I think that we qualify more for the 'dangerous' category. But I'd rather not us come to blows, since, assuming you are someone we can trust, we aren't enemies. But in terms of ''affairs' this is quite clearly the 'affairs' of magi, because it clearly was a group of misguided ones who committed the terrible crime that made this catastrophe. "
    Kasanip's Sketchbook 2 Thread
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  15. - Top - End - #735
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Lonna's Avatar

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    Pyrene the Temptress

    The invitation was a trap, Pyrene was almost sure. However, she had exhausted herself magically and physically, so her chances of avoiding it were slim. That left just one option - spring the trap, but on her own terms.

    "Please tell your Mistress that while I have only just finished a fine meal, I would be glad to speak with her a little. I have lodging at this inn, and she is welcome to join me there, or if she will have a bit of patience I will tell my fellow travellers of her kind offer and rejoin her in but a few moments."

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    OOC: I suspect that the stranger in the carriage will not want to come into the inn, but if she does Pyrene will try to stay in the common room, or at least make a point of being noticed as they pass through it. If she doesn't come in, Pyrene will proceed as below.


    Strolling casually past the carriage, Pyrene nodded politely to the curtained window and entered the inn. Procurring ink, quill and paper from the innkeeper, she retreated to her room (shutting the door firmly in the face of the coachman, if he attempts to follow her), and quickly wrote out a quick note.

    Wulfric,

    If you are reading this, my instinct was right and the passenger of the coach that stopped me on my way here was not simply interested in my dress. I suspect she may be a magician. Please know that I did intend to be here in the morning.


    She hesitated a moment, then signed, Jaqueline.

    Indulging her paranoia, Pyrene then copied the note and hid one copy under the pile of tools that she had used to remove her collar, adding the collar and lock for good measure. Folding the other copy carefully, she tidied her hair and washed her face and hands before taking it down to the innkeeper and bribing him with a silver (change from the cost of supper) to give it only to "the man who was with me when I first arrived, or to myself in his presence."
    I started a blog!
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  16. - Top - End - #736
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    OverWilliam's Avatar

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    ~Tare

    Tare needed a moment to digest all of this. Without thinking his legs curled up under him and made him look very small and very confused sitting with his back against the wall. ...How can that make sense? The word 'impossible' was rapidly disappearing from the boy's vocabulary, but that didn't make what had happened any more likely, or any easier to accept. Even if that trick was strictly speaking 'possible', how in the nine hells am I able to do it without serious training? Looking through time... holy crap. That can't be an easy thing to do. While the moment was still fresh, Tare burned as solidly into his memory as he could exactly what it had felt like and exactly what mental effort he had pushed against the moment before it happened. Melcara's question about what he'd seen brought him out of his meditation.

    "It... didn't make a lot of sense. I didn't have context for anything, so most of it just... went right over my head." Tare furrowed his brow and thought about it some more. "...He was being attacked by a group of people. He was trying to keep them out of somewhere, I think. I saw how he got that scar. ...He may have been betrayed, I'm not sure."

    Tare's mind drifted back to the fact that he had seen it at all, and then he realized that something else had been tickling the back of his mind, waiting for him to put something together. Something about Melcara's explanation... When she had told him that she hadn't looked at his soul even before she remembered that she couldn't. As though she was worried he would judge her for doing such a thing... "I respect your privacy," She'd said. And then it clicked. She had no such guarantee from him. Wheels began to turn. That's what that sound in her voice was... the tables were turned. Always before it had been her looking at a Mortal's sins, and now here was a Mortal that, somehow, possessed the ability to look at her own. The way she met his gaze with her own... If he chose, he could look right past every defense she had, search unerring into the very currents of time and behold, with his own eyes, the deeds that had so stained her conscience that she was willing to endure another thousand years of torture because she thought she deserved it. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. He could Steal the truth from her-- and that is what he was, was he not? A Thief? And it would destroy her. But she must know this. The moment she discovered that Tare was capable of this, she could have left the room. Fled entirely, left him behind and secured her past to herself alone. But just by sitting there, in the same room with him, she was trusting him, again. It had to be terrifying.

    Once again, Tare was baffled. As this final realization settled in with all of its weight, Tare leaned his head back against the wall behind him and stared with an unreadable expression at the fallen Angel before him. He thought of his own past and how betrayed he would feel if someone else ripped it from him that way. How on earth can she trust me so much? Tare dropped his eyes to the floor. Ostensibly, it might have been so that the prolonged eye contact would not get uncomfortable. Really, though, it was because he was too ashamed to look her in the eye. ...If she did still have the ability to look through me and see everything that I've done... would I still be sitting in the same room with her? Could I risk what she is risking?

    Seconds went by. ...I would like to.

    "...Melcara? I want to tell you something. Something I've never told anyone. ...A deep secret. We don't have time right now, but I want you to know it, once things quiet down and we get a chance to talk." He looked up at her from his seat on the floor. "I know what I have to do. I wish there was any other way, but if there is I can't see it. We have to go now, or Adame' may be dead before we get back. I swear to you that I will help you find out where this Angel Blood is coming from and whatever else you want to do after we find it. But right now, time is against us. We have to go."
    Deo Soli Sit Semper Gloria

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    Its offical. Overwilliam is Duke Devlin.

  17. - Top - End - #737
    Orc in the Playground
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    Sohssal

    "Yes, I do have the proper equipment...underwater. I might be able to make do with one of my smaller, drier labs, but I think it's more serious this time," Sohssal replied. Then he fell silent for a moment, thinking. "I could give you the ability to breathe underwater. The equipment I have down there should be good enough to prevent any complications from working underwater," he said. And even if it wasn't, he'd still learn a lot from this.

    The spell was a simple one, and Sohssal made sure to cast it correctly, a brief blue aura playing about Omega before dying down as it took effect. As long as no one invaded his lab again, he'd have enough to get by. "Come, Omega. We have no time to waste. And you two...make sure to warn me if something nasty comes while I'm busy," he said, then floated down into the water again to search for the appropriate section of his waterlogged lab - or at least the most suitable intact section.

  18. - Top - End - #738
    Titan in the Playground
     
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    Marisiel

    Perhaps she ought not to have been surprised at Istomilo's vitriol, but she was. It was... not a side of him she'd seen before. But then she had never seen him in battle before; they had met in the aftermath of the last war, when Phaedra still seemed like a glorious dream made real to humanity; and even during that last war it would not have been like this. There could not have been any regret over opposing the demon army, no wistful desires for peace with them. Mankind had battled the demons with a fervor bordering on madness, fighting for survival and a world without pain. This was much more confusing, even for her. The humans were not minions of Azguloth, and as heavy as their sins were, they could not compare to what the servants of that black god had done. It seemed logical, then, that their punishment should be that much lighter; but she could not begin to figure out how this would happen. Oh, the humans would be given a chance to surrender before they were as thoroughly destroyed as the demon armies had been... but what if they didn't? Against all reason, they had fought against Heaven's armies this long; why would they start listening to reason now?

    Might Istomilo have doubts as well as regrets, she wondered? Could he have agreed to accompany this last attack with intent to... no, that was unworthy of her. He had remained faithful to the gods even when his people, his life's work, his daughter and his wife turned against them. She refused to repay him with suspicion. But it was clearly hard for him to do all of this, and she could not help but think that it would grow harder. In his place...

    ... actually, in his place, she wasn't sure she'd have had the courage to turn against her mother and sisters like that.

    Hephestia's arrival cut short her answer, saving her from having to think of what to say. Marisiel wasn't sure why, exactly, that was the case. Her sister's presence shouldn't have inhibited her at all—it wasn't as though she kept any secrets—and she would not have minded making a point of being grateful to Istomilo. Hephestia meant well, she was sure, but... well. In any case, it did matter. For some reason, she felt reluctant to speak to Istomilo in front of Hephestia. Was this what humans felt when they decided to keep secrets?

    Besides, Hephestia had chosen her words well—she might be lacking in empathy and tact, but no-one could claim she did not know how to drive at a weak point. Marisiel would never put more lives at risk merely for the sake of her feelings. Especially when she couldn't even figure out what those feelings were. She nodded and drew her sword, turning her gaze to the city beneath them. "Of course."

    She surveyed the city with impassive eyes. The time for doubt and regrets was over now, had to be over. This was a thing that had to be done. She would do it with neither joy nor sadness. "Istomilo, you may accompany me in the vanguard if you wish," she said, allowing him the choice. She could give him that much: he could stay with the bulk of the army if he didn't want to see what would happen, or go with her if he wanted to face it. Or if he wanted to see his wife one last time. And it would be the last time; Marisiel hadn't wanted to dash his futile hopes, but she was sure Titania would never be released. If Titania had been the sort to recant and beg forgiveness, she would have done it already, and Miriam would not bend until that happened. It might as well be death; a strange sort of in-between death, not so painful as Hell but worse than Heaven.

    Perhaps that wasn't such a bad fate, after all.

    With this thought in mind, Marisiel raised her sword, and signaled the army to descend onto Phaedra.
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  19. - Top - End - #739
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    OldWizardGuy

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    One Thread of Incom Morgan

    Listening to the angelic presence within him scream and beg for mercy Incom could not but help to feel sorry for it. Here in a distilled and twisted form ass a divine being, which most likely went though events that would make the past several decades of Incoms life seem like a pleasant afternoon nap. He would not be surprised that it would react like he did back when everything went crazy.

    It's okay. I am a friend. I am different. Look into my mind....

    Opening up mental pathways Incom guided the terrified presence through his memories, letting the angelic presence absorb at it's own pace Incoms life as an observer, to helpl build a bridge of understanding. at the same time he provided an anchor for the angelic presence, helping it keep what little grip on sanity that had not bee destroyed intact and to help nourish it.

    I am going to stop the one that did this to you, to your brothers and sisters. Can you help me? Do you want to help? Don't worry if you do not want to help, I will not hurt you and will try to ease your suffering.

    Another thread of Incom Morgan
    "Your mother is fine. It was an attempt to distract your father, which may or may not have worked. He does not care for her in the least from what I can tell. To him she is but a prize he won long ago."

    With Korram and Katrina gone it would take time to find them, let alone additional time to subdue Katrina and time was a precious resource that they did not have in earnest.

    Picking up Sara Incom continues along in the direction that she indicated. truth be told he did not know which direction would be better over another however Sara seemed to have a knack for knowing what to do. In cases like this is Mae sense to Incom to trust her.

    Still yet another thread of Incom Morgan
    Thoughs raced through his head like flashes of lightning striking at the same place along the same paths. Incom felt both a massive headache and eternal peace. Aware of him working to communicate with the angelic soul, aware of himself speaking with Sara, aware of himself runnings hundreds of tasks for preparing his body for battle it seemed insane that this symphony of thoughts we coming from one mind, one soul, one body.

    "What is happening to me?"
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    I'm feeling this real hard now.
    Curse you, Pwenet. Curse you.... You had my hopes up there...

  20. - Top - End - #740
    Bugbear in the Playground
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    Grandmaster Ander Windrivver

    Determining whether or not the Council is truly responsible for these angelic abominations is a side issue? Ander asks incredulously.

    Ander stands up and gathers the angel corpse from the center of the table.

    I have two more witnesses I would like to call upon but unfortunately they are unable to visit us directly. They must be contacted via ritual and may be able to commune with that soulstone more successfully than any of us.

    He turns to the abbot. Please, take us to your largest ritual chamber.

    ((In the interest of speeding things up, the following part of this post assumes that everyone agrees to partake in the ritual with Ander.))

    The abbot leads the assembled Grandmasters and Crane to the largest chamber where Ander begins creating a much larger version of the transportation circle he used to travel to heaven. This circle would easily work for the 8 members of the summit.

    There, the ritual circle is complete. I apologize for the delay, it's a rather complicated one. Please, everyone step inside so we may finally lay these issues to rest. With everyone inside the circle, Ander begins the incantation and soon they are bathed in golden light as the spell takes hold.

    ((Again, this is assuming that everyone cooperates.))

    After a blinding flash, the assembled party opens their eyes to find themselves in the Holy City of Heaven. The city is as empty as it was on Ander's previous visit and most of the remaining angels keep a cautious distance from the odd group of mortals that just entered their realm.

    Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the Holy City. Follow me please. Ander says, leading them through the quiet streets. There was a time when these streets were bustling with angels and spirits of the deceased. Even mortal heroes on their way to the Crusade. As you can see, things have changed since angels have begun to disappear without warning. Keep an eye out and you may see it for yourselves.

    Eventually the group arrives at the Palace of the Sun. Ander leads them up the steps and through its holy passages to the central chamber. With a grand gesture Ander throws open the huge double doors and sweeps into the room. Setting the angel-thing corpse down in front of him, he kneels.

    Father Athelion, Mother Miriam, I bring you the men who will cleanse the Church.
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  21. - Top - End - #741
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    Gorgondantess's Avatar

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    She twinges at Maurice's indignation, looking almost hurt. Of course, she in turn shows her own indignation at Maurice's assumptions.
    "I do not hate your gods, and it's certainly not irrational. Does the bear hate the hunter she chases down and mauls after the quarrel narrowly misses her heart? No. And I do not want vengeance against the gods- my wrath is reserved for one. I was assaulted- without provocation- and for the first time in my life, I felt something, and that was agony. I may not be able to be killed, but I have no doubt some sort of oblivion was near. All at the hands of the servants of one Lord Athelion the Lifebringer. A being who I had never had any knowledge of before that day.
    These men were fanatical, preferring to kill themselves with their own profane tools than be questioned, and I have no reason to believe their attacks will cease. So I will hunt my own hunter. I will march to this Athelion, this butcher who sends broken men to do his own deeds while he sits back and watches, and I will give him one chance to beg my forgiveness. And if he does not, I will kill him. So you see, my vengeance is not irrational. Quite the contrary, my vengeance is extremely rational. There is nothing but rationality in my quest."
    She finishes, and opens the door, casting a shadow on Maurice in her darkened cell.
    "Then if you don't need sustenance, you can just rot in here."
    And she slams the door.

    Stalking out of the church, she ignores the fawning of her cultists, and takes off into the air, boiling with... emotion? She'd never felt anything like this: even before, while she was planning against Athelion, her mind was clear, but now... it was as if a cloud had descended over her mind, looping the same thoughts over and over. It was surprising that that one person could get her frustrated: her mere denouncements hurt almost as much as the stony knives. She remembered, vaguely, of her life in the village, crying when... something bad happened. Shouting. She tried to do so, but nothing came of it.

    After flying for a good few hours, losing several pounds of mass, she returned to the village, calling a congregation in the church main.
    As soon as they are all there, she scans through the mass, looking for somebody. She doesn't discriminate by age or sex, but looks for someone powerful, forceful. That edge in the eye, the high shoulders. She looks for this person, and approaches them, and brings them up to the altar.
    Laying a hand on their shoulder, she looks them in the eye. "You will be my priest of this town. You will carry a portion of my authority: for now, your word is to be obeyed."
    Turning back to the congregation, she speaks out. "Those who choose to remain behind will treat this person as you would treat a holy (person). Meanwhile, any who choose to accompany me on my quest as missionaries, we leave tomorrow."
    Marceline Abadeer by Gnomish Wanderer

  22. - Top - End - #742
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    WhiteKnight777's Avatar

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    Umber

    The vampire lord growled in frustration. His head ached, and he tasted something bitter in his mouth. And the stench - the stench was almost more than he could bare. But really, all that paled in compared to the dismal anticlimax. He wanted to see Fianna. He wanted to hold her again. He wanted to smell her hair - but more than anything, he wanted to see her smile again. Hear the silver bells of her laughter. He wanted her to feel happy. To feel anything at all. He finally had the power to do something about her condition. He wanted to share his life with her again, but at every step a new roadblock occurred, some new triviality barred his way.

    But enough of this whining. He steeled himself, drawing in a deep breath of the stinking, fetid air, and spat on the floor. He was Umber, damnit, and a Lord of Blood. He would not stop. He would not be defeated. He would not cease his efforts, no matter how far Fianna ran or what plans she enacted.

    He stretched out a hand, and lifted the letter with a whisper of his will, pulling it close to his face and unfolding it - at the same time, he began to weave another pair of spells - one of protection, to ward against any stray magical traps - and another to trace Fianna's arcane signature, to determine her path from this place.

  23. - Top - End - #743
    Bugbear in the Playground
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    Korram Alstan

    Korram struggles to keep up with Katrina, feeling his age as exhaustion soon sets in, and he pants heavily as he pushes through the undergrowth. The pain from his arm stump is growing steadily worse, but doesn't feel like an infection. At first he is worried about the response likely coming from the Baron, but eventually even this is pushed out of his mind in his focus. Only Katrina's repeated delays allow him to keep anything resembling pace with her. When she finally grows tired and halts her running, Korram slides gratefully to a stop and grabs a tree for support while his breathing normalizes.

    He doesn't interfere as Katrina vents her rage on the tree, but only because he didn't expect her to break her hand in fury. When she does, he winces in sympathetic pain. He remains mute as her rage dies down and she finally sits against the tree. What happens next leaves him confused and uncomfortable. Katrina's sobs pierce through Korram, but he has no idea how to react. His dilemma has been consistent since he met Katrina: he wants to be a good father, or at least as much as he can given his unforgivable mistakes as one, but he also doesn't want to seem condescending and risk making the gap between them even wider.

    As he cannot continue to sit and do nothing, Korram takes a few uncertain steps forward and kneels in front of Katrina. Slowly, hesitantly, he begins to reach out a hand to her, but stops and lets it fall. His expression shows just how uncomfortable he is with the situation, but he still tries to do something.

    "Katrina...I...how can I..."

    Unable to put the powerful emotions he feels into words, Korram lapses into guilty silence.
    Truly awesome Ark Tamaeus avatar by Bryn. Full size version here.

  24. - Top - End - #744
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Inspectre's Avatar

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    Dawn’s Hope - Monastery

    Baerdog7

    The proctor returns your annoyance with some of his own.

    “Grandmaster Windrivver. This council is to determine whether or not your claims that the entire Council of the Church has fallen into corruption have any validity. Furthermore, this council is then to decide what must be done should such corruption exist, and how.”

    Pausing, the proctor rubs his eyes in irritation.

    “Understand that such an accusation has never been aired in the Church’s entire history. The very idea of such a claim is so inimical to the entire Church that to seriously consider it is the first step to madness. The fact that we’re even here discussing it today is solely due to your previously exemplary record as Lord General of the Crusade. I hope you understand the full consequences of your accusation.”

    “Of course he does.” Crane comments, making a tearing motion with his hands.

    “Keep flapping your jaws. The more your mouth is open, the better my chances of timing my punch just right to ram my fist down your throat!” Belroar growls, in turn earning a bristle from Odlak before the proctor slams his gavel down.

    “WE WILL HAVE ORDER AND CIVILITY HERE!” He announces, underlining his point with a withering glare at all present. A moment later, and the man has regained his own composure. “Now then, Lord General. If you have any other evidence to present . . .”

    Although it takes some time to create the ritual circle, it takes considerably less time for everyone to derive your reason.

    “You mean for us to go before the Valkyrie and the Lightbringer directly?” Jamkas asks, one eyebrow raised incredulously – it was the first time he has spoken this entire time.

    “That seems to be the idea lad, but . . . tis madness. Mortals aren’t allowed in the city itself – that is only an honor bought by a noble death.” Belroar says quietly, shaking his head.

    “I am sure that, assuming Ander has indeed been sent back by the Divine Couple, that an exception would be made.” Milner says quietly, although even his voice holds the slightest trace of doubt.

    Crane interjects with a loud chuckle.

    “Fools, dead and damned fools all of you. The only place this circle will be taking you is into Azguloth’s maw Itself!”

    “Crane . . .” The proctor begins, but the Exarch cuts him off.

    “The only thing that awaits you on the other side of the circle is Death and Damnation, and I for one want no part in it. The Council has presented its evidence, we’ve found the source of the corruption, and we’ve excised all but one stubborn strand of it.”

    Crane jabs a finger at you, still busy inscribing intricate runes on the floor and trying not to crush the chalk between your fingers in anger.

    “If you go through that circle, there is no reason to believe that when you return, if you return at all, you will be back as nothing more than puppets for the Forger of Oblivion to use against this Church! I, and the rest of the Council who have empowered me to speak for them, will not allow this vile weed to spread its roots any further! If you go through that portal, consider yourselves all excommunicated.”

    “You can’t do that.” Belroar growls, but he is immediately shouted down by Crane, now almost ranting at the group.

    “OH YES WE CAN! In situations of dire need, the Council of Exarches is granted FULL and ABSOLUTE authority to deal with ANY threat that endangers the very survival of the Church.”

    Crane jabs another, quivering finger at you.

    “THIS constitutes a grave and dire threat that endangers the very survival of the Church itself! First, he has you willing to consider the mad possibility that the entire Council is corrupt – a possibility that could very well spawn a witch hunt that will rip the entire Church to pieces! And now, he has you all willing to blithely follow along behind him to learn “the truth”!”

    Crane theatrically makes a sweeping gesture with his hand.

    “The Council will not tolerate this abomination of a proceeding any longer! If you continue to allow yourselves to be deluded by this fiend-in-paladin’s armor, you will be excommunicated! Your names will be stricken from the rolls, and added to the List of Dishonor, where the names of all traitors who wantonly abandoned their oaths in favor of demon worship are stored! Your orders will disavow all contact with you! Your family will disown you, or they will be excommunicated as well! No true believer will even speak with you, for fear on being poisoned on the vile words dribbling out of your foul mouths! You will –“

    At this point, Crane in interrupted by Belroar swiftly stepping forward, and landing a solid one-two punch – one to the solar plexus, and the other to the jaw, sending the Exarch tumbling to the floor.

    “- Get a chance to finally make you shut up?” Belorar finishes.

    Immediately, Odlak is storming towards the dwarf, but further violence in prevented as both Jamkas and Ricster hold him back.

    “We’ll be seeing each other in the dueling circle after this.” Odlak promises darkly.

    “I look forward to it.” Belroar answers with a grim smile, while Crane continues to wheeze on the floor.

    “You . . . will . . . pay . . . for that.” Crane whispers when he finally manages to catch his breath. The dwarf, seemingly willing to take on all comers, cracks his knuckles with a smile. “Let me know when you and your boy want to collect.”

    “Someday soon, I hope.” Odlak mutters darkly, moving over to offer Crane a hand up. To your surprise, Ricster also shuffles over to stand beside them as well.

    “I’m not sure who’s right here, but I’ve worked hard to get where I am. And I’m not about to let the whole Church get torn apart just because some relic of the past says so. No offense Ander, I think you did a great job on the Crusade, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to destroy an institution that has lasted thousands of years just on your say-so.”

    For the last minute, awkward silence reigns over the chamber, and then you complete the ritual, and everyone sans Crane, Odlak, and Ricster are transported to the gates of the Heavens. As Belroar stated, the singular angel now guarded the gate to the city attempts to stop your little band from entering. But, as Milner likewise predicted, she quickly decides to make an exception after you explain your purpose. The streets of the city are now more deserted than ever, although here and there you still do see small groups of worried looking people moving about. There is only a small handful of angels present in the city – and as you predicted, one of them vanished into a new life of unimaginable suffering before your group’s very eyes.

    Inside the palace, however, there is still a sizable force of angels – although you note a few of them appear . . . out of place, almost awkward in their movements. No doubt Miriam has been forced to create a number of new angels to replace the Heavens’ greatly diminished army.

    And ultimately, you find yourself standing in the heart of the palace once more. Your “father” slowly materializes following your entrance, sitting quietly and watching from his throne. Surprisingly, Miriam takes even longer to coalesce into the image of your mother, although Her reaction is swift and immediate once fully formed. Stepping forward, She moves to kneel beside the body of the corrupted angel. Reaching a hand down to touch the angel’s forehead, the goddess gives a mournful sigh. She then shifts Her hand down to the angel’s chest, and passes Her hand through Her servant’s armor and flesh, presumably in order to touch the crystal within.

    “What is this?” Miriam asks you a moment later, Her concentration still fully on the angel. Given Her vast knowledge and presumable communication with the angel, the question She is posing is probably rhetorical. And yet, Her tone clearly indicates that She is expecting an answer. Or perhaps She is instead referring to the group of four mortals standing behind you, staring slack-jawed at Her and their surroundings.

    Archpaladin Zousha

    At your explanation, Emma’s frown steadily deepens.

    “I . . . see.” She says simply after a moment of contemplation. “I figured she was trouble just by the way she was acting, but couldn’t figure out what her relation was to you. I thank you for your honesty.”

    Shaking herself, Emma sighs and rubs at her eyes with one withered hand.

    “In any event, it seems that you have a job to do. And my part in all this is to help you however I can. We beggars see quite a lot of things here, but most of it is disjointed – individual indiscretions, personal corruption. Is there someone specific you want to learn more about, or . . . “

    Here the old beggar leans across the table, her fetid breath caressing your face as she hisses softly into your ear.

    “Or is it that you wish to expose scandal at the very highest levels of the Church? Not just some mere dalliance or misuse of Church funds, no . . . but the systematic root of evil that has been eating away at the Church from within for a very long time now.”

    Pulling away from you, Emma sighs heavily and shakes her head.

    “That, I am not sure I can help you with. We see much, but the Council is oh so very careful. They conduct their dark business behind closed doors, and beyond walls we cannot cross. We could probably help you put together a case against one of the Exarches – reveal enough filthy robes, and the others would turn against the one to avoid getting dragged into the light as well by association! But, that would only be holding a single candle aloft in a very dark, very large room. I am not sure how you could expose the entire dark heart of the Church’s corruption to the world, and more importantly, prove it.”

    For a moment, Emma sits back in quiet thought, forefinger on her lips. Then, she carefully places her hands on the table in front of her, speaking quietly and slowly.

    “There may be one thing. We have nothing to offer you to prove this, but . . . well – there has been a lot of recent construction beneath the main Cathedral. Most of the work was done some time ago, but the shipments of material haven’t stopped entirely even now. Do you know what is down there?”

    As a matter of fact, you did and so did every other paladin. In the darkest bowels of the Cathedral, there was an immense Chamber, known as the Reliquary of Darkness. It was the Church’s most openly-kept secret, for it has long since passed into legend over the centuries of the Crusade. It was there that the souls of Azguloth’s generals, the most powerful and influential diabolic and demonic overlords of the Hells, were imprisoned.

    It is nearly impossible and strictly forbidden to destroy a soul – even that of a lowly demon. Any invasion against the Hells was therefore doomed to failure – men might die, their souls trapped there for all eternity, but the denizens of that foul place would just come back. They always came back, whether in a matter of moments or years later.

    A desperate plan was therefore hatched shortly after this reality was hammered home in the early years of the Crusade. There was no way to contain the limitless hordes of the Hells – but without their leaders, they were just as likely to fight purposelessly against themselves than against the Crusade. And so one by one, as they were defeated the demon and devils lords were imprisoned via various rituals and dragged up to the mortal world. In the Reliquary of Darkness, these defeated fiends were stored, locked away safely behind layers upon layers of security. And thus, slowly and always at great cost, the Crusade muddled onward, until finally Ander came and attempted a furious push down to the bottommost level.

    “I see you do.” Emma remarks with a knowing smile. “What do you think they’ve been doing down there, out of sight of the rest of the world? No one knows . . . but I suspect your answers, whatever they are, are down there. Assuming you still wish to find them . . . and think you can get in and out of there alive.”

    Emma gives a soft, crackling chuckle.

    “There’s no one stupid enough to try to sneak into the Cathedral of Light’s most tightly guarded place, and think that they won’t look out of place amongst all those fanatical paladins down there. But . . . I do happen to know some people – some people who know some people, who just might “misplace” the identification papers needed to get inside. After getting in through the front door though, this fool amongst fools would be on his own. Interested?”

    Stonefall

    The_Snark

    “I will accompany you. Hmph, I’ve followed you this far!” Istomilo says after a moment’s delay. Hephestia glances briefly at the human traitor with a slight smirk.

    “Then let us hope your courage does not fail at the last minute. We will have to leave you behind to fend for yourself if it does.”

    And then the time for talk was over, as the angelic force descended upon Phaedra to bring the war to its inevitable end. The fighting was a blur as you swooped down upon the Queen’s final sanctum. The humans below threw up powerful spells, most of which were countered by divine magic, or simply absorbed with a scream by the angelic ranks before the divine gift of regeneration repaired the damage done in a matter of seconds. The demons that the humans had summoned rushed eagerly into battle, but as had been proven countless times before, were no match for the combined fury and skill of angels.

    Even so, it was a bloodbath, and the air was filled with the screams of dying humans, demons, and even a few angels. All of Phaedra’s defenders seemed to know who Istomilo was, and threw themselves at him with curses and cries of “Die, traitor!” It was here that you finally saw Istomilo fight, and he fought with a relentless sort of efficiency.

    At first he was reluctant to fight, hanging back behind you and allowing you and your sisters to cut down all resistance while he focused on countering the Phaedran magic. But gradually he moved to the forefront, taking a cold satisfaction in cutting down those who were once his countrymen. At one point, you overhear him muttering to himself.

    “They deserve this. They all deserve to burn for what they’ve done. I’ve come this far for her. Just a little more.”

    You are nearly to the throne room, where Istomilo assures you Titania will be waiting, when you catch a glimpse of two cloaked figures coming into sight at the far end of a long hallway coming in from the side. You don’t see either of their faces before they both duck back out of sight, but you do catch a glimpse of reddish hair swinging out from beneath both of their cowls.

    Hephestia actually grins as she readies her sword and turns to face the hallway the figures had briefly appeared at the end of. A hallway which was now rapidly filling with desperate Phaedran defenders, surging forward to attempt to hold you all back.

    “I do believe that was the second head of this blasphemous snake. Tell Titania her daughter is dead when you see her. I go now to prove you are not liars.”

    Shouting a challenge at the onrushing defenders, Titania dashes forward to meet them in the middle of the hallway. They might as well have been trying to hold back a tornado, so swiftly did she tear through their midst, the personification of righteous fury and revenge. Leaving a score of broken and dying men behind her with minimal effort, your brash sister hurries after the apparent heir of Phaedra, Pyria. She had certainly grown since you had last seen her.

    Looking over at Istomilo, you notice him leaning against the wall, one hand over his face. He seems to be having trouble breathing evenly, and you note that a small amount of blood is now flowing down from the palm of his other hand, apparently a self-inflicted injury as his fingernails dig into his flesh. When you attempt to speak with him, however, he gruffly pushes himself off the wall and starts walking again.

    “Let’s just get this over with!” He growls, pressing on ahead.

    And finally, the last of the human defenders fall before the onslaught of you, Ysora, and Istomilo. While the handful of angels who had been following along behind you take up positions in front of the door to prevent any from interfering, you rush inside to finish this for good. As expected, Titania is waiting for you.

    Like her daughter before her, Titania is almost unrecognizable, and the difference is even more striking due to you actually getting a close look at the Queen of Phaedra. Titania is bone thin, her face haggard and pale. Her skin seem stretched across her bony frame, and dark blotches mar what was once flawless skin. Still, her eyes burn with remorseless fury, and the air around her crackles dangerously with raw magical power.

    “Well, how appropriate.” Titania hisses, as she slowly pushes herself up out of her throne. She immediately begins to slouch, but straightens herself back up regally with just the slightest wince. “We seem to have come full circle now, with the Queen of Whores sending those responsible for starting all this back to finish the job.”

    “It’s over Ti.” Istomilo says quietly, shaking his head. “But you can still save some of the people if –“

    “The people of Phaedra were all DOOMED from the START!” Titania growls, with a surprising amount of volume. “We could either live with the boot of the gods on our throat, or die as that same boot ground us into the dust.”

    A slow smile of mad satisfaction crosses Titania’s lips.

    “We all chose death. All of us except you. But I suppose you had other concerns filling your thoughts at the time, didn’t you Milo? So, was she worth it?”

    Slowly, Istomilo closes his eyes and exhales deeply. You note that he is clenching his hands into tight fists again.

    “That wasn’t the only reason I left, Ti. You –“

    “No, Milo!” Titania snarls, her voice crackling through the room like the boom of thunder. “We are not talking about me right now. I asked you a simple question – was she worth it!?”

    A moment later, the Queen of Phaedra bursts into mad, gurgling laughter as Istomilo looks sullenly down at the floor.

    “You haven’t even told her, have you!!? You always were gutless Milo, but this is simply inexcusable! Don’t you think your “allies” deserve to know the true reason you’ve thrown your lot in with them!?”

    “Does it really matter? He has chosen his side, and now this war will come to its decisive end!” Ysora counters, stepping forward into a battle-ready stance. Again, Titania responds with insane laughter.

    “Oh no, Phaedra might be doomed, but humanity is not. Long after I am dead and every single one of my subjects is dust, our descendents will rise up! Again and again, until the yoke of the gods is shattered and broken, and Them along with it! And at their head shall be my daughter, always, just as immortal and implacable as Miriam Herself!”

    “I regret to inform you that we encountered your daughter while she was attempting to escape. Our sister, the archangel Hephestia, is in pursuit. Like you, she shall also be brought to justice this day. Regrettably, the only possible sentence for such abominations is Death.”

    Titania’s face falls at this piece of news, and for a moment she slumps, all fight seeming to flee from her. And then, with a furious, primal scream, Titania summons a brilliant bolt of multi-colored lightning, which she hurls at your sister. Ysora is unable to dodge in time, and she screams in agony as the bolt strikes her and splits into countless smaller bolts playing over her body. Ysora collapses to the ground, bolts of lightning still playing over her body and seeming to painfully hold her immobile. For her part, Titania sways, and coughs violently, raising one hand to her mouth. You spot a few flecks of blackish blood on her palm when she lowers her hand a moment later.

    “Now then. Where were we?” Titania says conversationally, as if nothing had just happened. Ysora continues to moan and occasionally thrash about, still caughting in the grip of whatever immobilization spell Titania had just cast. Istomilo makes no move to counter its magic, seeming held just as captive by the Queen’s words as he stares at her, and then you, in horror.

    “Ah yes. Istomilo’s reasons for joining you. Or wanting to join with you, perhaps I should say. Tell me Marisiel, you home-wrecking whore with wings, did it ever occur to you to ask why Istomilo always sides with you? Why he spends so much time with you? Why he showers you with gifts and praise, while you stand there completely oblivious? The answer should be obvious.”

    Again, the corners of Titania’s lips twitch up into a smile.

    “He. LOVES. YOU!! Which is so appropriate, now that I think about it. You two deserve each other.”

    The Island of Dr(?) Sohssal

    Iethloc

    “Sure thing.” Sure thing. Both Shanks and Roger say, in near unison. You tended to be a loner by preference, but had to admit that having dependable minions for once was . . . useful. Then you were back under the water, and Omega with you. Despite being able to breathe underwater, Omega was still naturally encumbered by the water, unlike yourself who could glide through it like any other matter.

    Eventually though, you arrive at the lab to find it relatively intact, minus the damage done by being submerged entirely in seawater. Omega floats over to one of the work benches, clearing it carefully of supplies before lying down on top of it. Being submerged in water, this last act might not have been strictly necessary as she could have “lied down” anywhere in the water, although having a solid surface beneath her would probably make your job easier.

    Of course, there was one final concern that could cause problems when you start to go to work on her - blood. Her blood from whatever incisions you make would get in the way and make seeing difficult, as normal . . . only underwater the effect would be compounded. The blood will mix with the water, creating great billowing “clouds”, and potentially obscuring your vision of what you were working on entirely.

    Thankfully, you had ways of dealing with that – various magical ways of seeing things – which would be able to cut through the blood, for the most part. Although . . . since Omega was part-human part-demon, even those might backfire if they fail to show you exactly what your normal “eyes” would. Especially since her partially demonic blood might have a magical signature, blocking even magical senses somewhat.

    It probably would be better to devise a way to keep her from bleeding altogether, or examine her without having to cut her open, but that would take still more of your precious magical reserves. Thankfully, there were no sharks infesting your flooded lab, which was at least a small obnoxious concern you *didn’t* have to deal with.

    Outside the Capital

    Pwenet

    Coaxing the fragments of the angel’s mind into your own memories was difficult. What was left of the angel’s mind was scatterbrained and constantly shifting, and instinctually shied away from the pain held in your memories. And yet she slowly ventured down the dark path behind you. At the end, the remnant seemed stronger, calmer – it was still far from healed, but now it knew that it was no longer alone.

    At your mention of helping against the Baron however, the angel’s fear returned, and the presence in your mind returned to cowering in a dark corner. A sense of complete helplessness and despair washes over you – the angel wasn’t even able to save itself. It was mercilessly ripped and torn until this was all that was left of it – how could it possibly help you? For just a moment, the slightest spark of defiance flared through what was left of the angel’s mind – it wanted to help. It just didn’t know how.

    Meanwhile, another part of your mind had scooped up Sara into your massive arms, and was once more carrying her through the forest. There did not seem to be any particular destination in mind, but given Sara’s inexperience with the outside world beyond her gilded cage, this was not surprising. Still, the goal seemed to be to get out of the forest, and from there get to one of the dozens of hamlets dotting the countryside surrounding the capital.

    You would undoubtedly stick out there, but it probably couldn’t be helped. You needed information, and more importantly, handy supplies for Sara like food and water.

    At your news of her mother, Sara relaxes.

    “Oh, I’m very glad to hear that. I didn’t think you did any of the things you said you did, but . . . I wanted to be sure. We have to help her! Maybe . . . maybe we could fix her? So she would always be caring and kind instead of cold and distant? I used to think it was something I did, but . . . no. My father . . . he did something to her, didn’t he? He’s the one who makes her so full of hate.”

    Sara shakes her head helplessly.

    “I don’t know what to do! I’ve never had thoughts like these before being sent to Ironheart. Now it’s all I can think about! All those poor people . . . all that misery – my father’s responsible for all of it, isn’t he? How could he!!?”

    Suddenly, Sara seems to **** her head, as if hearing something. Your own senses don’t detect anything.

    “Did you just see that? Th-the light. . . Put me down! Put me down right now!”

    Immediately Sara is a twitching mass of limbs, and its all you can do to set her down gently on her feet. She immediately goes limping away from you at a shambling gait, seeming to follow something deeper into the forest that only she can see.

    And finally, in the deep recesses of your brain, a fourth part of your processing answers your own question. Upon being installed into the GHAST’s body, your mind was reshaped to be able to split into multiple copies of itself. This allowed for parallel processing in combat, enabling the GHAST to make split-second decisions and keep track of numerous targets at once. It was fairly rare for the GHAST’s mind to split during normal situations, although occasionally it could be done without ill effect. However, there was a cautionary example provided, in that splitting your mind too many times may make it impossible for it to reform back into a singular unit, potentially resulting in schizophrenia, multiple personality disorder, and eventually brain death. Fortunately, the Baron would be able to reinstall your core personality by wiping out your memories and restarting you as a default personality – a child, essentially, who would gradually learn to become a killing machine once more.

    Dorizzit

    Katrina looks up sharply at the sound of your words, and angrily wipes at her face.

    “You could have stopped the Baron from getting his hooks into Mom!”

    The accusation hit you harder than anything Katrina could have managed physically, and she seems to recognize it a moment later as her anger fizzles away.

    “That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.” Katrina said a moment later, holding up her wounded hand, and beginning to critically examine it, probing the injury with her other hand.

    “It’s just . . . the past few days have been simply Hellish, and then you dropped that bit about maybe Mom still being alive.”

    Katrina winces as her fingers find the exact spot where her ring finger was broken.

    “Everything was fine until you came along Korram. Well, no, that’s not true either. The Baron was slowly wiping us out without even really trying, but at least it felt like I was doing something.”

    Katrina sighs heavily as she lowers both hands down into her lap. She glowers at the memory as she continues.

    “The day I left Moloch’s private little hellhole I swore I’d never be helpless again. But the Baron, the gods-damned Baron, he made me feel that way all over again. And he did it without even really trying, like I was some insect he found squished into his boot.”

    Despite the pain it caused, Katrina clenches her hands into fists.

    “I hate him, Korram. I used to think I hated you too, but at least I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

    Katrina manages a slight smirk at the dig before she continues.

    “But the Baron’s been directly responsible for every awful thing that’s happened in my life – and it doesn’t mean a thing to him, like I’m nothing more than an afterthought. I want to hurt him – kill his wife, kill his family, and bring everything he’s ever cared about crashing down around his ears and then leave him to suffer as I have suffered. And –“

    Here Katrina’s voice quavers just a bit.

    “And, now I’ve found I can’t switch that feeling off. Cheran and Seraph are monsters – they deserve what they get. So do the rest of his sons. But his daughter . . . damnit, why did she have to make it hard? I HATE HER FOR THAT!”

    Katrina pounds her hands into her thighs, and then sighs deeply.

    “Hate is all I have left now. Am I supposed to give that up now too? How can I survive, when that’s all that’s gotten me this far?”

    Lonna

    After a long pause, the coachman nodded slowly. ‘The lady will await your return.” He ground out, and then proceeds to follow you back into the inn. He does so at a distance, but is clumsy enough in his attempts (clearly he hasn’t done much sneaking in his life) that you easily notice his intention. Thankfully, he remains politely at the bottom lobby area of the inn, allowing you to retire to your room in peace. Aware that the peace likely wouldn’t last long, you swiftly scribble out a pair of notes, leaving one underneath the pile of tools and giving the other to the inn keep along with a coin. He gives a slight nod of agreement, deftly slipping the coin and note into the sleeve of his shirt – evidently, he *had* done clandestine messages before.

    With the possibility of you disappearing into the night and never being seen or heard from again having been addressed, you accompany the coachman back out into the street. He politely opens the door to the carriage for you, helping you climb in before shutting the door behind you. Undoubtedly, he was standing guard in front of it now, leaving you trapped inside with whoever or whatever was waiting for you.

    Although your senses were at full alert, you had to admit that the person seated on the padded bench across from you was hardly threatening. Your admirer was apparently a wizened and hunched old woman, dressed in simple but well-tailored traveling clothes. Her tresses of grey hair hang limply down from her head, giving her a droopy appearance – although you do not fail to note the cold steel in her emerald green eyes. Again, the strange sensation comes over you, causing you to shiver. The old woman does not seem to notice as she looks you up and down quietly, unmistakably appraising you. Then, a welcoming smile spreads across her face – too slow to be anything but forced.

    “Hello dearie.” She begins in a soft, quavering voice.

    “I saw you walking down the street in that dress, and well . . . I am ashamed to admit it, but it took me back to my own youth. In fact, you remind me of exactly how I looked all those years ago.”

    The old woman shakes her head.

    “It’s uncanny, truly. Yes . . . perhaps you would be willing to help me with something. My . . . husband and I have grown apart over the years. I have decided to leave him entirely at long last. He is – shall we say, considerably younger than myself, and hounds me constantly. . . . For my money. Yes . . . my money - he wants the fabulous wealth I possess. I do not wish for him to get it, and so I am disappearing before I perish and he gets it all. Unfortunately, he is quite clever, and I am not sure I will be able to get away unless he is distracted. Which is where you come in, dearie.”

    The woman shifts in her seat slightly before continuing.

    “I was hoping that you would be willing to act as a decoy. When I first saw you, I wasn’t sure you would be able to fill the part, but now I see that you’re perfect. When my husband sees you, he’ll think I merely had some illusion spells worked up to make me look as I did all those years ago, as part of a disguise. With any luck, he’ll chase after you, and you’ll elude him for as long as possible. When he finally does catch up with you, give him this letter.”

    The woman pulls an ivory-colored envelope from her cloak, and gingerly hands it to you.

    “That will explain to him what has happened, and while he is consumed with learning how he was tricked, you will be able to slip away.”

    The woman leans back in her seat.

    “Of course, I will compensate you for this. I am quite a wealthy and influential woman, but rather desperate to get away from my husband. I will get you whatever your heart desires in return for this kindness. Anything. So . . . will you do it?”

    Dark Falls

    Kasanip

    Away from the corrupted town, your eye is recovering quite quickly. In another few minutes, it might even be back to completely normal. Fortunately, it seems that you will not have to worry about trying to use the recovering eye to discern Theresea’s location – a few moments later, the demon huntress re-appears. She makes a show of sheathing her massive sword, and then stands in place with her arms crossed.

    “Alright.” She says simply. “I am willing to believe you. I am not perfectly convinced that you and this father of yours did not have something to do with this abomination of magic, but I will not risk spilling innocent blood. And if you seek to oppose those responsible for this travesty, I suppose I could use all the help I can find.”

    A slight smirk quirks the corner of Theresea’s mouth up. “Even if my help does currently consist of a pair of children.”

    “Children who know quite a bit about magic.” Caralin snarls in response, clenching your hand in his. The demon huntress simply shakes her head.

    “Oh, I meant no disrespect of your abilities. It simply find it odd for someone so young to possess such skill with magic.”

    Theresea shrugs and throws her arms wide.

    “In any event, I was merely passing through the area when I sensed . . . a disturbance. As a hunter of fiendish filth, I’ve trained my senses to be very acute of their presence, and this ritual was like a hammer blow.”

    Here, Theresea actually winces.

    “It was a rather unpleasant sensation. In any event, I arrived too late to stop the ritual, or even see anything but the aftermath of a few rogue demons milling about town. I found no leads in town, although I wasn’t aware those brands meant anything . . . very interesting. Sadly, the life of a demon hunter also tends to be a lone one, so I don’t have anyone that I can request information from either.”

    Theresea sighs in frustration.

    “As such, it very well seems like I will have to follow you around if I want any answers. Do you still wish for me to accompany you, or should I try to put this incident out of mind, and continue my own hunt elsewhere? Whatever you decide, night is still coming soon – and the woods might still be dangerous out in the open.”

    Carlain leans in towards you and whispers, “Do we really want to trust some psycho bitch with a ridiculously large blade to make camp with us? We might wake up to find our heads have been shoved onto spears!”

    Regardless of whether you should continue trusting Theresea not to randomly decide to kill you, she was right that nightfall was coming. And unfortunately, with the town completely destroyed, there was nowhere to sleep except in whatever sort of camp you could set up in the next hour or so. You could potentially teleport your small group to just outside the nearest town, but long-distance teleportation was admittedly not your strong suit, especially taking other people with you. The effort would be taxing, and your magical ability would likely be reduced for a day or two until your body recovered.

    (As a note, if you decide to make camp I will assume Isera manages to find a very suitable spot that is both sheltered from the elements and defensible in the event something nasty shows up during the night.)

    The Capital

    WhiteKnight777

    The letter contained within the envelope, as the one before it, was short and to the point, containing none of Fianna’s previously flowery and intricate script.

    I suppose I would be feeling impressed right now if I was capable of such a reaction anymore. Or if I was capable of underestimating your determination. Unfortunately for you, I have neither quality, and so have already abandoned this place of residence in the event you somehow track me here. However, in the interest of sparing me the necessity of changing my place of residence every few hours, and to spare you the frustration of remaining one step behind, I propose a truce.

    We shall meet three days hence in front of the money changer’s booth near this city’s bazaar when the sun is at its zenith. From there we may go to another more secluded but still neutral area to discuss business. You shall explain to me this cure of yours, and convince me why it has any greater chance of working where all of your other cures have failed. If you cannot convince me, you will agree to leave me to my own solution and depart peacefully. There shall be no more tricks, Umber. I will see you soon.


    No more tricks . . . right. And Kartul would stop humping corpses after the next one.

    In any event, the message was dated at the bottom as two days ago – the same date when you first contacted her. Apparently, Fianna hasn’t stopped running since your scrying attempt . . . interesting. Of course, that means she’s had three whole days to plot and plan for this, but at least whatever her latest game was, you would finally get to be face-to-face with her. So . . . tomorrow was the fated day, then. One way or the other, Fianna would be cured shortly thereafter.

    OverWilliam

    At your admission of a secret, Melcara blinks in surprise. For a few moments, she looks around the room, a slight frown on her face – she clearly has no idea what to say. Finally, she looks back to you and forces a smile.

    “I . . . I would be honored. I . . . can’t promise whatever you tell me won’t change my opinion of you, but I won’t pass judgment on what you’ve done. I don’t have that right – not anymore.”

    Melcara offers you a hand up, easily pulling you back up to your feet with minimal effort – at the last second, she catches herself, and makes a show of having to strain to pull you up. It is unclear whether any of the beggars present bought it – or indeed, even cared to begin with.

    “Right. Let’s focus on helping your friend first, and worry about our pasts later.” Melcara says, this time with a genuine smile. She then follows you out the doors into the street, allowing you admittance to the entirety of the capital, or indeed, all of Narle if you chose to leave this all behind you. Melcara would likely follow you if you abandoned your duties and fled the capital altogether – but your conscience would never stop hounding you. And you’ve already accumulated enough sins for one lifetime. So . . . it seemed that you would be staying in the capital at least for a little longer. The only question then was this – where is your first stop?

    A Meaningless Speck of a Town Soon to be Even Less

    Gorgondantess

    The person you choose to be the town’s new priest of its new religion is nothing like the fat preacher you slew when first arriving here. Reed-thin and hunched, the young man was apparently a vagabond within the town before your arrival. But you can see qualities within him that his fellows cannot. There is a hard edge in his eyes, and you have no doubt that he will be relentless in enforcing your law here – he has no bonds of fellowship with these people to hold him back. Furthermore, he is utterly devoted to you, looking on you with a fanatical zeal beyond anyone else you’ve met yet – including your high priest. But sadly, your current high priest was rather more effective at organizing your growing force, and had a great deal more knowledge about the world you found yourself pressing into. And so, for now at least . . . speaking of which, he approaches you shortly after your announcement.

    “What do you wish done with the angel? Are we taking her with us or leaving her here? And, if you wish to dispose of her, I have found something interesting . . .”

    The high priest leans in slightly closer, a human reaction when sharing a secret, although he is careful not to become so close as to invade your private space.

    “I have heard rumors of someone wishing to purchase an angel. They are offering quite a high price – I know we are not concerned with money. But, someone wishes to purchase an angel, which is highly illegal and unusual – and the person responsible is probably doing it for some unpleasant reason. They may prove to be an ally, if we could find them.”
    I didn't actually intend to kill EVERYONE. It just sort of happened.

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  25. - Top - End - #745
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    WhiteKnight777's Avatar

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    Umber

    Tomorrow. His mouth was dry, and his heart raced. Tomorrow. It preyed on his mind, it sat Umber's stomach like a ball of lead. He showed the letter to Mellita, let her recognize the import as he spoke his thoughts allowed.

    "Noontide. That will sap some of her strength - and it also means that no vampires not of the Seven will be there. But she's never had trouble securing mortal servants, so that does not rule out ambush. Still... I must go. If there's even the slimmest chance that this isn't a trick or trap, I have to seize it. One way or another, tomorrow I will see this matter resolved."

    He looked at Mellita, fondly touching her cheek and smiling. "I appreciate your companionship, Mellita. It's been a long, strange trip for the two of us, hasn't it? If things should go ill with me tomorrow, consider yourself released from my service. I'm afraid that if I do not return, I will have to leave you to find your own path... I recommend somewhere far from this land. Things are going to get much darker before the dawn, I believe." He passed her a note with three locations described in detail. "These are a few of my caches from the old days. Take whatever you wish. If I return, it will be either with Fianna or with her blood on my hands. In either case, you be welcome to rejoin me at that juncture."

    He started towards the door, his mind already racing. He would have to convince his long-lost love of his case, and he would have to do it by appealing to the alien sensibilities she now possessed. This was going to be perhaps the most difficult step of the journey yet - and the most essential.

    with one last sweep of the chamber, he began to head towards the surface once more - towards tomorrow's noontide, and towards the fate of two hearts intertwined.

  26. - Top - End - #746
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Archpaladin Zousha's Avatar

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    Hondshioh

    Hondshioh thinks. He didn't like the idea of breaking into the central stronghold of his own faith, but Emma's words rang true to him. Ander had said as much himself. He wondered how the Conclave was going, and if Ander would contact him with the results of the proceedings. But he shook his head. Ander had more pressing concerns than the works of someone naive enough to be fooled by an angel with physical markings of corruption.

    "It seems I have no choice but to be interested. After all, I can ferret out mere dalliances and misuses of church funds on my own. That's what got me sent away from my first monastery."
    "Reach down into your heart and you'll find many reasons to fight. Survival. Honor. Glory. But what about those who feel it's their duty to protect the innocent? There you'll find a warrior savage enough to match any dragon, and in the end, they'll retain what the others won't. Their humanity."

  27. - Top - End - #747
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Lonna's Avatar

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    Pyrene the Actress

    Pyrene accepted the letter and turned it around and around in her hands after the woman finished speaking, making a show of thinking over the offer.

    She's lying; I'm certain of that. And then there's this odd feeling I get every time I glance in her direction - it must be magic of some sort, which means that nothing here is as it seems. This must be some kind of trap. The only question is: I am the target or the bait?

    I don't think someone could have tracked me down so quickly if they were hunting me for the Baron. And I don't think Titania would feel the need to trap me. So that makes me the bait. But if I'm the bait, what happens when the target figures it out? He vents his rage on me, that's what.

    Then again, if she pays in advance, does it really matter? I can take the money, investigate the situation from a distance, and keep away if it looks too dangerous.


    "I would truly like to help you, but the caravan I am travelling with leaves in the morning,"
    lied Pyrene earnestly.

    "It would cost nearly a hundred gold pieces to hire a reliable escort for myself and my possessions if I travel alone, and I simply can not afford-" she began, then interrupted herself as if just thinking of something. "Oh! But perhaps you could advance me that much from that reward you mentioned, so that I could arrange to leave as soon as I have delivered your note. Just in case your husband thinks he ought to force me to tell him where you are."
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  28. - Top - End - #748
    Bugbear in the Playground
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    Korram Alstan

    Quote Originally Posted by Inspectre View Post
    Katrina looks up sharply at the sound of your words, and angrily wipes at her face.

    “You could have stopped the Baron from getting his hooks into Mom!”

    The accusation hit you harder than anything Katrina could have managed physically, and she seems to recognize it a moment later as her anger fizzles away.
    At Katrina's enraged outburst, Korram flinches back and looks away from her as though he had been struck. Although there is little he would have been able to do other than get himself killed on that day, he still hasn't forgiven himself for his perceived failure, and Katrina's harsh exclamation rips open that old wound.

    Quote Originally Posted by Inspectre View Post
    “That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.” Katrina said a moment later, holding up her wounded hand, and beginning to critically examine it, probing the injury with her other hand.
    Korram can't bring himself to meet Katrina's eyes after she says this, and by the time he works up the courage to do so, she has already begun to examine her self-inflicted injury. His next comment is subdued but still audible.

    "I'm in no position to be throwing blame around."

    Quote Originally Posted by Inspectre View Post
    “It’s just . . . the past few days have been simply Hellish, and then you dropped that bit about maybe Mom still being alive.”
    Korram nods solemnly.

    "I was still in shock about it. I could have chosen a better time."

    Quote Originally Posted by Inspectre View Post
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    Katrina winces as her fingers find the exact spot where her ring finger was broken.

    “Everything was fine until you came along Korram. Well, no, that’s not true either. The Baron was slowly wiping us out without even really trying, but at least it felt like I was doing something.”

    Katrina sighs heavily as she lowers both hands down into her lap. She glowers at the memory as she continues.

    “The day I left Moloch’s private little hellhole I swore I’d never be helpless again. But the Baron, the gods-damned Baron, he made me feel that way all over again. And he did it without even really trying, like I was some insect he found squished into his boot.”

    Despite the pain it caused, Katrina clenches her hands into fists.
    Korram can empathize with Katrina's pain. He remembers his own group's futile struggles against the Baron. Sure, they made some headway, killed some important people, and disrupted some important trades, but at the end of the day they had been no more than a bee against the powerful noble. Painful, perhaps, but not any real threat. Admitting it had been almost impossible, but they had all known it to some degree. They had all recognized the futility. Despite his commiseration, Korram remains silent.

    Quote Originally Posted by Inspectre View Post
    “I hate him, Korram. I used to think I hated you too, but at least I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

    Katrina manages a slight smirk at the dig before she continues.
    Korram smiles wanly.

    "Well, that's something."

    Quote Originally Posted by Inspectre View Post
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    “But the Baron’s been directly responsible for every awful thing that’s happened in my life – and it doesn’t mean a thing to him, like I’m nothing more than an afterthought. I want to hurt him – kill his wife, kill his family, and bring everything he’s ever cared about crashing down around his ears and then leave him to suffer as I have suffered. And –“

    Here Katrina’s voice quavers just a bit.

    “And, now I’ve found I can’t switch that feeling off. Cheran and Seraph are monsters – they deserve what they get. So do the rest of his sons. But his daughter . . . damnit, why did she have to make it hard? I HATE HER FOR THAT!”

    Katrina pounds her hands into her thighs, and then sighs deeply.

    “Hate is all I have left now. Am I supposed to give that up now too? How can I survive, when that’s all that’s gotten me this far?”
    Korram does not speak for several seconds after Katrina finishes. He struggles to compose a response. Words had never been his strong suit. A farmer didn't need to speak well, and a revolutionary leader had little use for flowery speeches. When he finally speaks, at first it is slowly and hesitantly, but it gains strength over time.

    "For us...the day the Baron...took...your mother...was the day that our lives were ruined. But for him...it had no significance. It was....just another day. A day that he accomplished a...goal, but no more. That man...he's a complete monster. He cares for no one...other than himself. If you want to hurt him, going through his family won't work. They're tools to him. You say that hate's the only thing that's gotten you this far? How far is this? Injured, on the run, your deadbeat father your only ally? I'm not saying that you should give up your hatred. I haven't, and I never will. But if you let your hatred take control of you, it will ruin you. I speak from experience."

    Korram takes a shuddering breath before continuing.

    "The Baron has to be stopped...no. Destroyed. But he holds all of the cards. If you want to kill him, you have to think. You can't let emotion dictate your actions."

    He pauses momentarily.

    "Also, that girl is special. Her part in these events is not done, I think. Cheran, you're right about, and he deserves the most painful death I can think of, and I have a very active imagination thanks to Ironheart. Seraphan...is more complicated. I'm just not sure about where he stands in all this. Hell, I don't know. Maybe I misjudged him."

    He sits dejectedly back on his haunches.

    "Anyway, if you're feeling well enough we should probably get moving."
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  29. - Top - End - #749
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kasanip's Avatar

    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    Japan
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    Default Re: Flight From Ironheart IC

    Isera Harvent
    Outside Dark Falls


    There was a certain amount of relief that flooded into Isera's stomach when the demon huntress appeared. Maybe not necessarily the kind of relief one feels when threatened, but the easing of tension. The atmosphere was still tense, with Carlain crushing her hand in his grip, but the demon huntress had fortunately been analytical and collected enough to see reason in Isera's explanation.

    Did she want the woman coming with them to Ghast? Not particularly, but it wasn't that big of a problem, except perhaps grating for Carlain, who seemed to have a very negative impression of the woman. But Isera had a feeling that would change, should they run into trouble. Sometimes unexpected allies can give you a grudging appreciation for their ability. Isera could think of a few times that had helped her- especially the time when she had lost her hand.

    She really didn't want the woman snooping too much into her family issues because-

    Isera had to think about that. Certainly not family issues, but more she had meant Canticle issues as well. Though the divide between the two was rather murky. It was best not to deal with that problem even with people she did trust.

    That would be a difficult balance to keep though. If she had to report in again (and she would of course eventually have to give an update), she didn't want the huntress getting too free.

    Though it would be easier if she explained more, but that was the line of difficulty that the Canticles ran. Such was a secret organization's fate- to trade truth at times for safety. Well, to hide truth at times for safety. She would do her best not to lie. Too often.
    Isera looked over at Carlain.
    Yes, probably it would be a bad idea to turn Cherise's little brother into a two-faced person. Which raised some uncomfortable thoughts about the nature of the Autumn canticle's lifestyle. Isera shoved those thoughts aside for now.

    "Thank you for believing me. I don't know how long our paths will run together, but since our goal is the same, I don't see why we can't help each other out."

    She squeezed her fingers in Carlain's death grip.
    "And we should get camp set up soon. We could use magic to teleport to a town...but I'm not very skilled at that sort of thing." She admitted.
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  30. - Top - End - #750
    Orc in the Playground
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    Apr 2007
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    The third dimension
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    Male2Female

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    Sohssal

    Sohssal immediately knew what he had to do. "I'll have to use the stasis spell again," he informed Omega. Then he quickly cast the old demon stasis spell he used the last time he had to cut open Omega. With her flesh held in almost complete stasis, the blood should ooze out slowly rather than billow. With no sharks around, Sohssal could easily take the hit to his magical reserves, but by now he'd probably have to take the re-building efforts slowly to avoid burning out.

    Then he gathered the appropriate equipment, this time with one of his scalpels that were made for cutting demon flesh, rather than an enchanted letter opener. He kept various other tools at hand, including ones for stitching wounds closed, some delicate scalpel-like tools that were actually made to channel healing magic to repair internal injuries (which was about the only way he could do that properly), and small boxes that contained strips of preserved demon flesh useful for both certain rituals and repairing demons (rather, those that weren't ruined by seawater would be useful). With these at hand, Sohssal wordlessly began his work.

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