Flight From Ironheart IC

[Kasanip]

Isera
Dark Falls

Isera allowed herself to relax a little in the cozy house. It was certainly better than traveling on the road as they had in the time, and it was a bit nostalgic to see the clutter and the smells. Magi were not so different perhaps, though Isera's constant moving never gave such a luxury.
The chairs were comfortable and welcome changes from the rocks, and these kinds of things Isera appreciated when she could, though in the present of this grandmother she was polite and well mannered. Carlain seemed to be presentable at this. For the most part. But he redeemed himself rather well. Yes, there was hope for him. Knowing how well Cherise had turned out, certainly there was potential.

When Cynthia winked at Isera, she smiled and felt her cheeks warm a little. She still has a lot of fire left in her. Isera thought.
"Thank you for your hospitality. We are sorry for intruding on your peace like this with no warning." She said, gratefully taking the offered cup of tea.
She paused to smell it, if only to enjoy the rare smell of rose and cinnamon - real luxuries of living. A warm drink in the middle of winter was definitely one of the best things.
Isera raised her cup in responding to the toast also and then sipped the tea, allowing herself the enjoyment of the rare and excellent flavor. It was sweet and warm, and a little spicy from cinnamon. She could feel her body warm from it, and only now really noticed how stiff and cold she had gotten from the travels.
I guess I don't notice such a thing very much anymore. She thought.
"This is delicious. Please share your recipe with me before we leave." Isera complimented honestly.

She set the cup down gently and then straightened to focus on Cynthia.
"If you please could we would be grateful. The only things coming from Gast are bad rumors right now." She said.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber rolled his eyes impatiently at the show of bravado. Normally he appreciated a good bluff. But he had far too little time, and far too much to do. "I don't have the years it would take to explain the situation. You are not her, and right now, she is all I care about." He paused, pursing his lips and staring down the woman. "And yet... you are her. You bear Fianna's soul as well as her form." His eyes narrowed, but he didn't suspect the woman - this did not seem calculated enough to be a conscious plan. "Who or what are you?"

[Lonna]

Pyrene

Pyrene didn't budge, glaring at the arrogant stranger. "I assume Fianna is the witch that did this to me, but I don't know anything about sharing a soul with her. And trust me, I've done more than enough wondering what I am the last week or so. I want answers, and if you want my cooperation you'll give them to me." Pyrene glanced down, suddenly remembering that she was standing naked aside from the flames and wondering if it really was just a day since she had met her evil twin, or if the bitch had lied about that as well. "Clothes and food are also going to be necessary," she added, relaxing into a more normal standing position and casually covering her Ironheart brand with her free hand.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber gave her a long, even look. "Let me make this perfectly clear - every moment we talk, the woman I have loved for millenia is getting farther away. She is afflicted with a terrible insanity, and if I do not find her - either to save her or to end her pain - she may well reduce the world and everyone in it to utter nothingness. I have no desire to harm you, but if you impede me, I will pry the knowledge from your brain by whatever means necessary." He took a deep breath, calming himself. Damn these petty emotions! He hadn't been that melodramatic in ages. "That said, I can see you are confused, lost, and alone. And I bear you no special ill will, and I believe that you are caught up in a situation you had no desire to be so entangled in. So I will answer your questions. But if you care at all about the world, you will point me in the direction that Fianna is going, and we will talk as we ride."

He seemed to notice her nakedness for the first time, but it barely even registered. He waved one hand in a slightly irritated gesture, mumbling a few words, and conjured a pair of close-fitting, functional breeches and a man's shirt, along with a tray of food. "Here. Eat, dress, and give me a direction while I call us a steed."

Once again he bent, drawing a circle, and shaped an empty vessel that resembled a great black warhorse. Into it he called spirits of wind and lightning to lend it speed, and fine cracks in the creature's form radiated a flickering blue-white light.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Hondshioh

Hondshioh looks them squarely in the face.

"I am a giant-blooded Reliquary Defender with a woman bound in chains. Either I am here to present her for exorcism, or I am attacking the Reliquary. Pray that it is not the latter," he says sarcastically. He was playing the part of the high-and-mighty priest surrounded by idiots, but he wondered if maybe Katashiko's abrasiveness was starting to rub off on him.

[Lonna]

Pyrene

Pyrene did her best not to appear intimidated by the show of magic, but she couldn't help going a little wide-eyed as the clothing and food appeared out of thin air. Allowing the ring of fire to compact into a single white flame that hovered beside her, she quickly dressed, thinking over what she wanted to know. "Let's start with my evil twin: looking at her was like looking in the mirror, and you said something about my having the same soul. What did you mean by that, and how do you know?"

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber smiled, lightning-quick and wry. "I take issue with "Evil," both because it presupposes that you are "Good," and because it advocates objective morality, a notion I find laughable at best."

He paused, considering what and how much to tell her. "As for what I meant... well, I am very good at magic, and very familiar with Fianna's soul. I used a sort of arcane sight to try to pick out the signature of her essence among the doubles - and yours matches hers precisely. For whatever reason, you bear both her soul and her features. As to the why of that - I wish I knew myself."

Umber hauled himself up into the saddle of his lightning-beast and offered the woman his hand. "Now... where did she go?"

[Lonna]

Pyrene

Pyrene eyed the magical beast with misgiving, not taking her former pursuer's hand just yet. "If you take me back to the plaza where we first saw each other, I think I can tell you the direction she left by, but I don't know anything more. She had given me a letter to give you, but it burned with the dress."

A sudden thought occurred to her. "I saw another double as I was running... It is possible that she has a copy of the letter, if you can find her."

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber considered leaving the woman behind - but a better idea occurred to him. Fianna's soul was either identical to hers, or they somehow shared it... in either case, he might be able to make use of it...

"No, I've a better idea. The sameness of your souls suggests a link between the two of you. If I'm right, I might be able to use you as a lodestone to draw me to her, if you will let me. There should be no danger to you." He added, almost as an afterthought.

[Lonna]

Pyrene

"No danger except that your crazy fiance wants to destroy the world, and you're keeping her from doing it. Which means as soon as she figures out you're using me to find her, I'm first on the list of targets," pointed out Pyrene sharply. She did not make a move toward the dark stranger, but the white flame danced along the butcher knife as she stooped to retrieve it. "No. I'll do what I can to point you in the right direction, but I have promises to keep. I can't simply leave with you."

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber stepped down off his steed, giving her an intense look. "Very well. I'll perform the necessary magics and you can be on your way. I do hope you have somewhere to go when the world dissolves into nothingness, however."

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

After Sohssal demonstrated his incorporeality, he drained a chunk of magical energy from one of his new spires. ”Are you capable of speaking? Not that it really matters. I'll find a way to get some information out of you...” he said. With an imperious gesture, he cast a spell, a variant on his usual flying/binding spell. The merman was surrounded by a miniature whirlpool rather than a tornado of sorts.

Having no idea if it was strong enough to break free or could dispel it, Sohssal approached with caution. ”Now I'm probably going to have to set up a scrying pool to find out how you got in here. Your presence brings a lot of complications. If I have to root out more of whatever you are, I could be set back several days!” he ranted.

Then Sohssal opened up his magic senses to see if this entity had a distinct magical signature. If it did, it would make tracking them down easy. If not, Sohssal would have to clean up one of his scrying chambers soon.

[The_Snark]

Marisiel

The feel of her blade biting into flesh had always been vaguely distasteful to Marisiel; she was aware that humans and even some of her sisters found a kind of pleasure in a blow well landed, and this was not an evil thing, but it was not in her nature to enjoy something which brought pain to others. Yet never had it been so repellent as now - her hands sprang free of the blade as if tossing away a viper, and she stumbled backwards in shock.

Everything happened so fast—she swung, Istomilo was there—too late; it was done and no amount of wishing would let her take it back. She stared dumbly at the bloody sword in his chest, transfixed. In a way it was the worst thing she'd ever seen, because it was her fault; she had wrought this horror with her own hands. None of Azguloth's atrocities could have pierced her so, for no matter how vile, those came from outside, and she could fight them. How could she fight this? There was no-one to bring to justice, no proper action to take; she was a warrior, not a healer. She could only stand and watch, helpless.

He was dying, and it was her fault.

"Istomilo..." she said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. Her fingers were stained red. "I never meant..."

The hateful crystal flashed a malevolent scarlet, and all of a sudden she was seized with fury. That damn thing—perhaps he would still die, but she would not let his soul languish forever inside that prison—she could do that much for him, at least—

Marisiel moved swiftly, reaching past Istomilo's outstrectched hand to grasp the hilt of her sword. She squeezed with all her might, and crystal and metal alike shattered beneath her grip. When she released it a second later, her hand dripped blood, sliced open by a dozen razor-sharp shards. It hurt, but she did not particularly care; in fact she welcomed it. She deserved a little suffering, after what she'd inflicted on others today.

Istomilo's eyes stared sightlessly up at her. Very carefully, she closed his eyes, and wiped the blood from his face; then she leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. It seemed a poor goodbye, but she had nothing else to give.

Then she stood, and her eyes fell on Titania's face. She was in no mood to kill again today; bad enough that she had killed Istomilo without murdering the woman he'd died to save. And yet... the war had to end; Titania would only destroy more lives if allowed to live. She could not in good conscience spare the Queen.

Perhaps it was more merciful this way, anyway.

Marisiel knelt between dead husband and dying wife and took hold of her head with both hands, gentle but firm. "I'm sorry," she said, and with a single swift motion snapped the Queen's neck.

[Baerdog7]

Grandmaster Ander Windrivver

Something about Oldak and Rickster's continued recalcitrance combined with the stress of the day causes the Grandmaster to snap. I am sick and tired of your bull**** today, Ander warns as he lifts the two other grandmasters by the neck and slams them into the wall. I have been playing the diplomat all day and my patience is about at an end. He squeezes, watching as their faces begin to take a nice shade of red. You don't seem to get what's going on here and because of that I'm going to have to show you myself. You aren't being asked to go on this mission, you are being ORDERED by Miriam's direct agent. You will go with me or I will execute you where you stand for aiding and abetting the heretic Council.

He drops them to the floor, allowing them to gasp for breath. [color=maroon]Now get up you spineless excuses for paladins and get ready to go.[/coor]

Ander manages to calm himself down just as Winril comes into the corridor.

“Ander . . . I am afraid that I just can’t do this.” He says quietly, hanging his head. “I’ve stepped down from my place as Grandmaster. William Tidestar will be taking my place – he’s a capable enough administrator, and understands what needs to be done. What I cannot do. I am sorry Ander, but after all these years . . . so many long years. Do you know how many hours I spent in solitude, pondering the nature of our Goddess and wondering how She could allow certain things to come to pass? Now I know the answer, and . . . I don’t know . . . what to do with it!” Minril finishes, his voice breaking. He breaths a last trembling sigh, and turns to go.

“I’m going to disappear, and spend what little time I have left on this earth pondering the simpler things in life. I pray that I can forget what I have seen.”

Be strong Winril and remember that hope lies with mankind.

Belroar barges in a short while after.

“What the hell are you thinking now, lad!!? You’re going into the belly of the beast itself, and expecting to pick out what it’s had for dinner!?”

Belroar examines you critically.

“You aren’t preparing yourself to be a martyr, are you lad? Maybe our little visit to Miriam had more of an effect on you than we all thought.”

No Belroar, Ander answers, his voice hard, I'd have to die in order to become a martyr. I don't plan on doing that any time soon.

((I think Ander's ready to go. We can probably fast forward to the point where the enter the city with the Cathedral now. I'm assuming that's the same place Ander sent Hondshioh right? He'll want to meet up with him before actually going to the Cathedral.))

[Pwenet]

Incom Morgan

Mentally gasping for breath as the soul of the demon flees from the presence of Miriam Incom mentally takes stock of himself, pulling his Monday together. The sheer audacity of the demon, so devoted to evil and chaos that it would act so illogically amazed even him. Even now he would feel it hissing at the corners of his mind from within it's home.

Focusing more on Miriam/Sara as she made her plea it was just typical of his messed up life that he had to escort the girl to save the world. It was simply too much.

It started with a slight shuddering his of torso.

The shuddering spread to his arms as strange sounds emerged. The sounds would make a lot more sense had he a pair of working lungs, but after several seconds the sounds are unmistakable as laughter.

Roaring with laughter, laughter that boarders on sanity and chaos the heavily armored and modified GHAST doubles over holding his chest laughing at the insanity that was his life. Incompetent gods who needed the help of mortal to correct mistakes that as far as he could tell was because of their laziness, especially a mortal who suffered especially for their sins, maybe a small part of him would love to unleash the demon to see the reaction.

And yet he still hung on. Still the iron dedication that defined him his entire life held firm. If the gods were helpless it would have to be the mortals to show them how it was done. Besides even if the current gods we useless, having the Baron replace them would be inexcusable. Emulating the panting sounds of one who was out of breath despite feeling fine he pulls himself up to look at Miriam/Sara.

"I have already died one, that didn't stop me from being returned to this messed up world. Plus I wouldn't want to leave until I was done here, and if you are saying that Sara can help you save it, I will help however I can. So don't you (censored) dare offer to end my misery. My misery is what let's me know I am alive and making a difference which is more than you can say after all these years allowing the Baron and who knows what other powers ran rampant and allow this world to fall into this state. I don't pretend to understand all of your rules and limits, only that you have your own fair share of blame in allowing things to get like this."

"Yet you are tying to make things right, and I will help. But I swear, if Sara is hurt because of what you do, if she comes of harm, I will come after you. I seem to have a knack for coming back to life (although I won why the Baron choose to do this to me) and I will find a way."

"Now let Sara go. We have a long trip ahead of us, and time is of the essence for us mere mortals. Unless you have anything else you can offer to help us along."

It should be noted that a tiny part of Incom was cowering at the fact he is verbally smacking around the creator of the world, but honestly the rest of him is too pissed off, angry and crazy to care. Also thinking in third person probably is not helping, what do you think Incom? You agree, excellent, we are crazy!

[Inspectre]

Dawn’s Hope - Monastery

Baerdog7

(Well, considering Hondshioh, or perhaps I should say Archpaladin Zousha, is in the middle of investigating the Reliquary, where the angels are supposedly being held, Ander meeting with him right now is going to be difficult. Let’s see if I can give Ander some other things to do while I work on bringing Hondshioh back to a point where the two of them can meet up.)

After you release the two grandmasters, Rickster holds up his hands in a clear sign of peace. Odlak, however, comes up wheezing and swinging, one hand shoving you back while the other hand draws his sword.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Heretic!” Odlak pants, brandishing his sword and taking up a defensive position as he catches his breath. “I will either leave here on my own feet or carried out, but either way I won’t be going with you!” For his part, Rickster continues to back away, his eyes flashing back and forth between you and Odlak. The confrontation is momentarily delayed by the arrival of Withril and Belroar, who each apparently have come to say their good-byes.

“Alright, well then lad, I suppose I will leave you to it. Going to go rally the Shields, as well as some old friends back at home.”

Belroar shakes his head and forces a smile to come onto his face.

“Looks like it’s up to us dwarves to bail you headstrong humans out of this latest mess. I guess some things will never change. Take care of yourself, lad.”

And with that, you are once again alone with a pacified Rickster and an enraged Odlak, looking very much like the bull many people often jokingly associate him with.

(At this point, Ander can either let Odlak go, or prepare to cross swords with him pretty much immediately.)

Archpaladin Zousha

“Where did you find this woman? Surely you are aware that the Cathedral handles most exorcisms – why bring her here then?”

Before either you or the guard could continue, Katashiko breaks into a low chuckle.

“He tried that already.” She intones in a sing-song voice, slowly walking forward as far as your leash chain would allow. “They told him to bring me here. Because I’m dangerous.”

Her face suddenly turning into a mask of fury, Katashiko lashes out with her left foot, delivering a swift series of kicks to the wall that shatters rock, leaving a head-sized hole all the way through the wall.

“See!?” Katashiko presses, continuing to cackle as the guards up on the wall cry out in alarm.

“Yes, yes, bring her in immediately! I will summon one of our demonologists!”

Moments later, the gates swing open to reveal a small contingent of guards who move into escort position.

“Get her inside! We’ll lock her in one of the temporary cells while we wait for the demonologist!” The head guard commands, and you and Katashiko are swiftly swept inside the Reliquary proper. Contrary to popular belief, the Reliquary is quite well-lit, with wall-hanging lanterns burning every few feet. You encounter a few small foot patrols as you are hustled towards the temporary cells, but the place is otherwise deserted – no doubt security gets much tighter underground.

You do catch a glimpse of something interesting along the way, however. While walking past a hallway, you glance down it to see two figures speaking just outside an office – likely the office of the upstairs commandant. One figure is dressed in ornate armor, and clearly is a high-ranking officer – likely the commandant. He seems to be doing all the talking, while the other figure just listens. Said other figure bears no insignia or other identification, instead being dressed simply in a long dark cloak. An equally dark cowl obscures this second individual’s face, at least until he seems to notice your little procession. The cowled head turns, and you catch a glimpse of a tattooed face and eyes with brilliant red irises examining you intently before you finish crossing in front of the hallway and travel out of sight.

Shortly thereafter, you are shown into a room with a heavily reinforced iron door. Several of the guards break off, likely with the intent to return to their posts, while three remain to escort you inside. Beyond the door is a small room, clearly designed more towards its function as a holding area than anything else. The remains of a runic circle stands in the center of the room, with some chalk and holy water sitting nearby so that it can be reconstructed within seconds. The loose chains and eyebolts set into the floor outside the runic circle suggest that more primitive methods are also available.

“Would you like us to secure your prisoner while we wait for the demonologist, sir?” One guard politely asks.

“Do you have any idea what sort of demon is possessing this woman?” The other asks conversationally. For her part, Katashiko simply turns to look at you, and quirks an eyebrow.

“Can I?” She asks with a slight smirk, in the same sing-song tone she had used moments before.

Stonefall

The_Snark

There is a soft, wet crack as you wrench the queen’s neck to one side. Close as you are, you are forced to look down at her face, into her eyes as the last moments of her life dawn. You watch as they widen in shock, feeling no sense of satisfaction as they immediately begin to slide closed. But it is your turn to be surprised when the Queen of Phaedra’s eyes only narrow – they do not close. You can even feel the wave of magic rising, furious and wild, a moment before a blast of sheer force hurls you back against the wall with stone-splitting force.

To your horror, you watch as Titania somehow staggers to her feet, head lolling freely from side to side. At her command, another wave of force rushes through the room, tossing Ysora back into the wall beside you a moment before the force tore the wall around you apart. Only the floor of the throne room now remains, the pieces of the crystal holding Istomilo’s soul and the shards of your sword swept out past you to join the pieces of the wall in tumbling down through the open air.

Her face twisted into a grimace of hatred and pain, Titania takes a single shuffling step forward. Black blood begins to drool out of her mouth, and some even begins to ooze from her nose and eyes. But the threat only lasts for another moment before even Titania’s indomitable will fails her, and she collapses to lie beside her husband.

Theme Music

“You whores!” Titania rasps, a disturbing gurgle bubbling up from her shattered throat - it takes you several seconds to identify the sound as laughter. “You wish . . . for destruction? Then . . . you shall have it!”

Again, the furious wave of magic begins to rise, causing your hair to stand on end as the sensation grows, and grows, and grows. Suddenly, where the Queen and Istomilo’s body lie, a dark portal into sheer nothingness opens.

“Join me in the Hell of Oblivion!” Titania taunts, a moment before the rift in reality expands, swallowing her and the body of her consort. Even without her around to maintain it, the rift continues to expand at an alarming rate.

“We must flee this place! Hurry!” Ysora grunts, dragging both herself and you up onto your feet. Although painful, you manage to take to the air, your wings crying out their distress as they take you up and away from Phaedra. It does not take long for the rest of the angelic host to learn of this unexpected danger, turning a certain victory into a rout. All the same, the surviving humans have no chance to celebrate their victory, for they had no means to escape the oncoming void. Like their queen, they are sucked into the growing void along with their ruined city. In the end, you and the rest of the angels hover over the scene of destruction, powerless to stop it as the entire city and all still down there are swallowed whole. Eventually, the rift slows, and then ceases growth, and then ultimately shrinks away back into the nothingness from whence it came. There is nothing left of Phaedra or its people save a crater.

Well – perhaps not quite. Far below, you can see a scattered line of refuges making all possible haste away from the vanished city . . . and not all of them were human. Even as high up as you are, you can still hear the mad shrieking of the demons that had somehow survived the battle. Now free of even their human masters, it was undoubtedly only a matter of time before they sought to summon more of their brethren, and repay their former “masters” in kind.

At this point, Hephestia flies up to join you, having apparently just barely got out of the city in time. She appears flushed, perhaps from the rush of the recent battle, or merely furious after a vexing encounter. It was always hard to tell with her, but the answer was forthcoming.

“She was here!” Hephestia hissed, brandishing a sword not her own. “Azguloth’s Whore!”

There was only one former angel who had earned that particular moniker, being the only known angel to have ever willingly departed Miriam’s service – Melcara. Her betrayal you had never understood, but she had always held a desire to question Miriam’s decisions beyond what even Genevieve had done. She had also always held a desire to protect and understand the humans as well, so perhaps it was not so surprising for her to have been here before being obviously dispatched by Hephestia.

“Because of her, the queen’s little brat was able to escape! She’s probably still down there right now, plotting revenge!”

“Surely you would agree that the humans are beaten, sister. What do you propose we do, go down there and slaughter them all until we find her?”

“YES! They are all guilty of blasphemy, you can hear the result of their sins even from up here! I say we go down and FINISH THE JOB!”

Ysora shares your horror at the very idea of wiping out humanity, down to the last man, woman, and child.

“Are you mad, sister? Our orders – “

“Our orders were to eliminate the threat! Do you think that, given time, the humans won’t forget this day and try again!? Why give them the chance to rise again!? CRUSH THEM NOW, AND END THEIR BLASPHEMY FOR ALL TIME!”

At that point, you all felt a familiar overpowering presence enter into your minds – your Lady.

“No.” Miriam whispers into all of your minds. “This war is finally over. All of you return home immediately. Leave the humans to repopulate, and we shall see what they will do.”

“My Lady . . . there are still demons about, survivors of summonings that the humans conducted. Shall we ensure they are all vanquished before returning?” Ysora asks. There is a long pause, and then come the words that stab through you much as your sword did to Istomilo.

“No, return immediately. The humans have brought this fate upon themselves. Let them deal with the consequences of making demonic pacts.”

There is no doubt in your mind that, now free upon the mortal world once more, the demons would seek to overrun it. With Phaedra utterly annihilated and without the support of the Heavens, the surviving humans had no chance of resisting. The demonic host would spread across the mortal realm like a plague, and the remaining humans would suffer enslavement. You could not bear to imagine the horrors that would follow – horrors that would last for generations, assuming the humans [b]ever[/i] broke free. Istomilo’s dying face dances before your eyes, his eyes full of terror and futile hope. And along with it, Titania’s – a once proud and noble face, reduced to mad fury . . . fury that you now knew you had a somewhat vital role in creating. Both of them had led humanity down this dark road to this inevitable fate, and yet did that mean all of humanity should pay the price for their sins? Should you turn your back on them now? Could you? Instinctively, you know what Melcara would do in your place. What Genevieve would do.

The Island of Dr(?) Sohssal

Iethloc

It appeared that you would be able to study the creature at your leisure, as it did not seem to have any way to break the magical whirlpool now containing it. It was mildly amusing to see it attempt to swim in the wild circular current surrounding it however, going round and round helplessly for several seconds before it gave up and returned to the calm middle. Apparently the old mariner’s stories about this bizarre mixture of man and fish were true after all – who would have thought?

Opening its mouth to reveal a line of small, primitive teeth (clearly more fish than human), the creature chatters at you in a bubbly voice. You were unable to understand any of it, but it was interesting to discover that these creatures apparently had some sort of language. With a little luck, you might even be able to repurpose a magical translation spell to successfully decipher the language. Being able to interrogate the creature would be of great help when you begin to vivisect it.

Opening your magical senses, you detect a magical aura about the creature. Surprising, given its apparent lack of magical ability. Then again, the spell itself seems a bit crude, a very straightforward transmutation spell woven directly into the being’s flesh. It would take a bit of study to determine what, exactly, the spell was doing to the creature, although hopefully due to the primitive nature of the spell it wouldn’t take long . . .

Your studies are interrupted by a gaggle of gurgling voices, what might pass for battle cries, as half a dozen more of the creatures charge into the room. The trapped merman shouts something in its fish tongue, undoubtedly a warning of some sort, prompting the six mermen to spread out. Most are wielding tridents similar to the one your current new specimen was wielding, although a few carry strong woven nets made out of kelp. They might as well have come in unarmed, for all the good it would do them.

Outside the Capital

Pwenet

For a moment, a look of irritation crosses Sara’s face, looking quite out of place on her youthful features. Then the girl-turned-goddess simply sighs and rubs her eyes in the universally human way of showing frustration.

“It will be dangerous for this girl, I will not lie. But if you want Me to clean up the mess that you humans have created, it is the only way. We are rapidly running out of options – the Baron has abducted most of My angelic servants for his own blasphemous ends, My mortal servants bicker amongst themselves or see themselves as their own gods now, and so that leaves . . . you, and a handful of others as the sole hope for this world. I regret that it has come to this, and that I have little else to offer you save encouragement. But I promise you, the Baron shall pay for his sins. Each and every single one. Good luck, and do not allow the darkness I now sense within you to drown out the light. I know you are strong enough to accomplish the task I set before you, or I would not ask it of you. Be strong, Incom Morgan. The light of dawn is coming to wash across this land.”

At that, the glow surrounding Sara abruptly fades, and she falls to her knees. When she looks up at you, you can see that her face is somber.

“I know where we have to go.” She says, slowly pushing herself back up onto her feet. She wobbles a little bit, but manages to catch herself. “And I know that it’s going to be dangerous, but I don’t care. My father has to be stopped . . . I don’t want him to hurt anyone else. And if I have to risk my life to do it . . .”

Sara shakes her head, and slowly balls her fingers into a fist.

“Then that’s just what I’ll do.”

Still grim-faced, Sara turns to the east.

"We need to go to a spot in the mountains, near Ironheart actually."

Sara serious expression falters as she looks back at you.

"Um . . . I'm not sure whether it be better to go across Home or not."

What Sara was refering to was the fact that you had two basic routes you could take to get there.

You could cut across the civilized human lands, which would enable you to beg, borrow, buy, or steal supplies (you were capable of operating without maintenance for quite some time, but Sara would likely not last long without food/water). It would however mean cutting across Gast and interacting with people. GHASTs were not a familiar sight to most people, as they were one of the Baron's secret weapons. It is highly likely that word regarding sightins of you would spread, and undoubtedly reach the Baron's ears sooner or later. On the plus side, the Baron was at the capital now, with every resource at his command locked away in the Gastly Truth. It would be difficult for him to send people after you, although certainly not impossible.

The other option was to cross over into the wild southern lands, cutting through elven territory before coming up north into the mountains. The only concerns there would be the elves themselves, and any wild beasts who viewed you or Sara as a snack. You could almost certainly handle any number of elves or beasts, but Sara might be injured by traps or elven ambushers who did not care where their arrows landed. You would also have to keep an eye out for food and water for Sara, and progress would likely be slow once you hit the thick tangle of sylvan forest marking the start of the elves' domain.

In this matter, it was clear that Sara was looking to you for guidance. Unfortunately, the angel and demon were both of little help, each having minimal experience in traveling through those areas. Both seemed confident in being able to overcome each path's unique challenges, the demon naturally more eager to begin the slaughter of everything in your way.

Dark Falls

Kasanip

The sip of hot tea is indeed delicious, the spiciness of the cinnamon washing over your tongue. But after you swallow the sip and set the tea cup aside, you notice an odd, greasy bitterness in your mouth. You are about to remark on it when Cynthia smiles.

“Ah certainty I’d be happy to share my recipe with you after this, but it’s really quite simple. Just put the cinnamon in after the hagstooth – masks the odor quite well, don’t you think?”

Hagstooth was a powerful knockout drug, you were aware of that much. The room around you spins wildly as you attempt to stand up, only to stumble and fall forward, your movements rapidly turning uncoordinated. Your head just barely misses striking the leg of the small table as you crumple to the floor. From the corner of your eye, you can see Carlain leaping up to his feet in shock before your vision begins to dim.

“What the hells did you just DO!?”

“My job.” Came the sharp reply, before the sound of your own heart beating fills your ears. Thump . . . thump . . . . . . . thump . . . . . . . . . thhhhuuummmmppp . . . . . . . . . . .

****************

The journey back to consciousness is a slow and laborious one, but you finally manage to drag yourself back out of the inky blackness you had been plunged into. You pretty much immediately wish you hadn’t, as there is a sharp pounding in your head that simply won’t go away. You attempt to raise a hand to your forehead to attempt to rub the pain away, only to find you can’t manage even that. Finally, your eyes manage to obey your command to open, and you find yourself in a very unpleasant situation.

You are no longer in Cynthia’s peaceful, if cluttered, meeting room, but rather in some sort of dark underground chamber, the sole source of light a single flickering torch. You are tightly bound to a chair, numerous coils of rope wrapped around your body. As you numbly watch, the apparent architects of your current situation – a bunch of dog-sized imps – finish their work by hauling back on a rope, firmly binding your legs to the front legs of the chair. One hops up on your shoulder, reaching out to flick your nose. It then hops back down with a beat of its wings, cackling.

“That’s enough.” Cynthia’s voice calls, and in unison the imps scramble back away from you – making the same sort of sounds as they do so as the “squirrels” living down in Cynthia’s basement. The imps don’t go far, however, and judging by their quiet cackling amongst themselves they had evil plans for you should you be left alone with them. A moment later, and Cynthia steps into your line of vision . . . followed by Carlain, who although he looked unhappy, seemed to be a willing participant.

“Now then, you might be wondering what’s going on, and why I haven’t taken the precaution of gagging you.” Cynthia begins, still in her calm, grandmotherly voice.

“First, because I need you to answer some questions for me, and it would be a pain in the ass gagging and ungagging you as we go. Those ropes ought to keep you from trying any stupid escape attempt via magic – I do apologize for my associates’ overzealousness in tying you up, but well – they’re imps. I also would caution you against screaming for help – we’re down below my house, and I assure you it’s well designed in its purpose of muffling any sounds coming from down here. That hasn’t stopped some of the idiot girls from this mudhole of a village from screaming their lungs out, and forcing me to slit their throats. I trust the same won’t be necessary with you.”

Cynthia pauses as she grabs an old stool, noisily sliding it across the rough floor until she gets it to within a few feet of you. She groans in relief as she plops down onto the stool.

“Ugh, I need to figure out what to do about this dampness. It wreaks havoc on my old bones.” She grouses, before turning her attention back to you. She pulls a long, wavy dagger from her belt, fingering it as she continues.

“Now then, I need information from you. As you may have guessed by now, I’m a warlock. Just one of the many souvenirs I have from my time in Gast, let me assure you. That’s something I would like very much to keep hidden from the Canticles, so I need to know what exactly you know about me.”

Cynthia’s eyes slide up to Carlain, now standing beside her, still frowning.

“And about Carlain here, our newest member. You can either tell me everything I want to know, or I can sic the imps on you. Trust me – you’ll be spilling even your most intimate secrets to me after just one day of their “tender” attentions.”

At this point, another imp comes flapping into the room, delivering some sort of squawking speech in demonic. Cynthia growls as she immediately pushes herself up off the stool.

“Argh, what does that old coot want from me now? I’m coming, I’m coming.”

She pushes the knife into Carlain’s hands, and indicates for him to take a seat on the stool.

“Keep an eye on her while I go see what the grand warlock wants. If she tries anything, slit her throat – it’s more important we remain hidden than find out what they already know!”

And with that, Cynthia waddles off after the imp, leaving you alone in the room with Carlain and several scampering imps. The boy attempts a weak smile that immediately falls flat.

“So . . . yeah. I’m a warlock. I warned Cynthia we were coming, but I never expected she’d do something like this. I guess she thinks you’ve been keeping information from me during our little investigation. Have you?”

Carlain’s normally soft face hardens.

“Because if you have, you better start talking right now, or things are going to get even more unpleasant for you when Cynthia gets back. We haven’t come this far to be stopped by the Canticles now!”

The Capital

Lonna

The confrontation between you and your evil twin’s husband – whose name you still don’t know – is interrupted by a strange sight. From around the corner several streets down, another one of your doubles comes running. She is followed by a charging horse, pulling a large cart behind it. Standing in the driver’s seat holding the reins is Wulfric, twirling a lasso over his head.

A moment after coming into sight, he lets fly, smoothly dropping the lasso around your double’s torso and pulling the noose tight. As your double goes tumbling, Wulfric hauls back on the reins, slamming the horse to a stop. He immediately jumps down, half-tumbling from the seat as the horse skids to a sudden halt, and the cart along with it. The double attempts to scramble back up onto her feet, but a swift stomp from Wulfric on her back drives her back down into the dust, and from there it is a brief struggle before he has used the rest of the lasso’s length to hogtie the poor girl. He is just about to haul the squirming bundle up when he looks up and sees you.

“Jacqueline.” He breathes, everything forgotten as he scrabbles back up to his feet, dusting himself off self-consciously. His mouth purses into an angry grimace as he crosses his arms. It is then that you note he is sporting considerable bruises, scattered about from head-to-toe.

“Or at least, I can only assume it’s you.” He grunts. At his feet, the bound double suddenly leaps up into a sitting position. Behind him, half a dozen heads poke up from the back of the cart. All of them, not surprisingly, are exact matches for you, save for the clothing that you now wore courtesy of the evil twin’s husband.

“I have a letter for you.” They all said simultaneously, all starring at the evil twin’s husband. It wasn’t creepy at all – nope.

“Friends of yours?” Wulfric asks, hooking a finger back at the cart. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

WhiteKnight777

The confrontation between you and this brat – not Fianna at all, despite her looks and soul – is interrupted by a strange sight. From around the corner several streets down, another Fianna clone comes running. She is followed by a charging horse, pulling a large cart behind it. Standing in the driver’s seat holding the reins is a tall broad-shouldered man, likely the same one you saw earlier, twirling a lasso over his head.

A moment after coming into sight, he lets fly, smoothly dropping the lasso around the double’s torso and pulling the noose tight. As she goes tumbling, the man hauls back on the reins, slamming the horse to a stop. He immediately jumps down, half-tumbling from the seat as the horse skids to a sudden halt, and the cart along with it. The double attempts to scramble back up onto her feet, but a swift stomp from the man on her back drives her back down into the dust, and from there it is a brief struggle before he has used the rest of the lasso’s length to hogtie the poor girl. He is just about to haul the squirming bundle up when he looks up and sees you.

“Jacqueline.” He breathes, everything forgotten as he scrabbles back up to his feet, dusting himself off self-consciously. His mouth purses into an angry grimace as he crosses his arms.

“Or at least, I can only assume it’s you.” He grunts. At his feet, the bound double suddenly leaps up into a sitting position. Behind him, half a dozen heads poke up from the back of the cart. All of them, not surprisingly, are exact matches for Fianna.

“I have a letter for you.” They all said simultaneously, all starring at you.

“Friends of yours?” The man asks Fianna’s soul-double (Jacqueline?), hooking a finger back at the cart. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

Gorgondantess

“No.” Maurice said simply as you concluded your argument about why she should run. Her voice is soft, but there is steel behind it this time. The angel turned human shakes her head.

“It is true that words have no meaning – but what we choose to give them. And I have chosen to give them truth – I will not attempt to escape now that I have told you I will not.”

The angel raises a finger to indicate that she is not done.

“You say that all there is, is power and the will to use it. But you are wrong. The pursuit of power is an empty addiction – there will always be some new challenge to overcome, some new opponent to master! But in the end, you will be alone, for those who crave power cannot tolerate equals. Even if the path you take does not destroy you, you will stand at the summit of absolute power alone – feared by those you subjugated, yes, but not respected, not loved. And even if they do not ultimately band together to destroy you, your victory will be a meaningless one. What will you have created in your search for power? What will you have accomplished beyond proving yourself the strongest? Nothing.”

Maurice extends her hand towards you.

“There is another way. You can choose to serve something greater than yourself. You can choose to give your words meaning. When people learn that they can trust your words are true, they will begin to trust you. If my words were false, and you could not trust me to keep my promise not to attempt escape, what would you do?”

Maurice presses forward to answer her own question.

“You would keep me tightly bound and threaten me with punishment when I was caught attempting escape. Much as you have now. But is that really the best way, the only way if power is all that matters? I might, as you said, be able to escape – a slim chance, but still a possibility. If I were to put my entire mind and will towards escape, I might be able to engineer a distraction to increase my odds further still. And so it would go, the two of us ceaselessly expending time and effort to try and outwit the other, trusting each other less and less. Or, I can give you my word that I will not escape and mean it, hopefully causing you to trust me, and perhaps in time give me reason to trust you as well.”

Maurice folds her arms across her chest.

“I have made my decision, and it will hold me to your side more firmly than any sort of chain. Now it is up to you to decide – you can continue to laugh in my face, or you can choose to embark on a new and different path.”

At your questioning regarding her standing amongst the angels, Maurcie looks down, examining her hands.

“My sisters and I are very similar, although like all creatures our experiences shape us differently. A very elect few are chosen by Miriam to ascend to the ranks of the archangels, but this is extremely rare – a mere handful have ever existed. That being said, each of us have different talents, much like the humans – some are skilled warriors, others are better scholars or poets . . . and some feel more comfortable around humans than their own kind.”

A smile plays across Maurice’s face, her eyes focused elsewhere as her mind plays back through memories.

“You may not think so, but the humans are a surprisingly diverse and fascinating lot. Most are so simple-minded in their desires, almost childishly so, but others are much more complex. Trying to understand them all has been my life’s work – along with keeping an eye on them for the sake of my Lady (Miriam). There are some humans, however, who are different from the masses – they have . . . a drive, or perhaps a need, to do great or terrible things. They are simultaneously the most useful and dangerous people, as they choose their own path.”

Maurice smile fades as she recalls other, less pleasant memories.

“It is this sort of man that assaults my kind, who devises ways to overcome his own weaknesses and exploit ours. So to answer your question specifically, no it is not common for angels to be assaulted. But the world is an old one, and individuals have periodically come forth to conduct these vile deeds. I can only assume that this buyer is just the latest such individual.”

Maurice self-consciously grabs her arm, and stares down at the ground.

“As for myself, I was not assaulted by such a man, no. Once, however, I was accosted by several men whose minds were clouded by drink, and who thought I wished to spend the night with them. I was able to . . . extract myself from the situation without killing any of them or exposing the fact that I was not, in fact, human.”

As promised, Maurice follows you through the streets to the tavern silently, always remaining one step behind. When you come in, the tavern is a hive of bustling activity even at this hour. All such activity stops when you speak those words however, and all eyes turn towards this pair of newcomers – yourself and Maurice, standing framed in the doorway. A minute later, a man, one in the latter half of his life judging by his grey facial hair, steps forward.

“I’m Mr. Montegomery. Shall we sit down and discuss payment?” He asks, indicating a nearby table. One that, while it held several people drowning their sorrows, is immediately emptied.

[Lonna]

Pyrene

Pyrene jerked a thumb at the sorceror behind her, unconsciously mirroring Wulfric's stance, complete with bruises from her vain attempts to slow herself on her earlier mad dash. "Which I will do, just as soon as this kind fellow is on his way."

Scrambling down from the rooftop, she murmured for Wulfric's ears only, "Thank you for coming after me." Her determinedly in-control expression never faltered, but for just that moment her tone conveyed a hint of... surprise? Relief? Whatever it was, it was gone in an instant as she turned back to her evil twin's husband in a business-like manner.

"I wouldn't get to close," she warned him. "The clothes were ordered to give you the letter and then stab you in the back as you read it," she explained, the white flame moving near her intact hair-pin in illustration, "and clearly I was the only one able to fight through your fiance's spells."

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Hondshioh

He regards them coldly.

"It seems you're not only willing collaborators with evil, but you're also gullible morons as well, to believe such a transparent story. From the elite guards of the Church's most jealously guarded secrets, I expected a bit more. She's not possessed at all, but rather a powerful mistress of earth and stone. And now that she's fulfilled her part of our bargain by helping us get in, it's time to fulfill mine."

He looks to Katashiko.

"Yes, you can. Hold nothing back."

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber ignored the interaction between the girl and the driver - at least, he filed it away for examination in the future. The comment about incindiary clothing, however, was well heeded. He made a gesture, pulling the letters from the hands and garments of the clones and holding them in front of himself, scanning them lightning-quick.

[Kasanip]

Isera

Isera knew she was in trouble now. But she was not worried or scared. She was rather angry. Especially at Carlain. Something had been off about him. She remembered now a few things. His quick identification of the cult demon markings, his strange behavior in the woods... She should have searched more. But most she was angry because he had been something of a little brother to her too. She remembered when she and Cerise had grown up that he had been there. Younger than them and not interested in the things they liked, but he had been a good boy.

This would break Cerise's heart. She thought. She shifted in the chair a little. Not only because it was uncomfortable, but so she could really check the limits of the ropes. Then she made sure she could speak again, after the knockout drug, she needed to know she had full control again. Her head still hurt a lot. But she shunted that aside. She met Carlain's gaze openly.

"So this is how it is?" She asked. "You, betraying the Canticle and breaking your sister's heart? Is that really your true color?

Why Carlain?" She asked bluntly.

"You remember the Perist residence." She accused with a dark look. "There are dangerous things at work in the world. Things that you know need to be stopped, and that you know we are working to prevent."

She raised her chin a little.

"You saw Dark Falls." She accused. "You should know better than that. Who was responsible for it? Warlocks. Cultists. Is that what you want to do? Go around destroying towns? Cut your own throat and wrists, or just sacrifice your soul to Hell?"

"I have to say I'm disappointed in you Carlain. I thought you were better than this. I thought you were smarter than to throw away your life already. So how long has it been, Carlain? How long have you been a pawn of these lunatics?"

Her words had been hard and harsh, but there was one thing she did have- the power of words. Even if they were 'normal,' words always had some power. And she hoped to give Carlain one last chance to redeem himself.

But already she was thinking of the predicament. Her eye had not seen anything unusual when she had come in, which meant there was something blocking magic here. Or at least, there was a spell using to shield it. She theorized that, being smart cultists, they would have made sure to prevent her from having a way to transmit a message of capture.
Unfortunately for them of course, if Isera didn't report in correctly and often to her overbearing father, he would know something was wrong.

Unfortunately for her however, she was still in her 'disguise.' Which maybe was a bonus too. Being younger, maybe they would underestimate her in some way.... But with Carlain here too, he'd have said everything, or would correct that mistake, and being in her disguise she had a more limited command of her psalmic sorcery. Rotten brat.

The fastest way out, was to cut and run. She was terrible at teleporting...but that didn't mean she couldn't do it. She wondered again about the basement and if it was magically sealed. If it was, then the only way out was a door, or for her to counter the spell. She continued to glare at Carlain, but closed her normal eye. If she could confirm this suspicion, and pinpoint the spell focus - and for a shield like this there had to be a focus to center and maintain it- then maybe it could be disabled long enough to escape.

Then there was another unexpected- Theresea. The woman was obviously a fierce fighter, but Isera wasn't sure if she would come back or when she would show up. How long had she been asleep? It couldn't have been too long. Likely Theresea would just get herself captured too, Isera thought. But Isera hoped she wouldn't.

No time to worry about such a thing. She reminded. The knife in Carlain's hand was dangerous, but also a tool of freedom.

[Gorgondantess]

She simply narrows her eyes at Maurice. "...I envy your conviction."
Of course, when she suggests serving a higher power, she laughs in her face. "What, serve your Lifebringer? My dear, you don't seem to understand the concept of justice. The wicked shall be dealt out punishment as befits their crimes- and my, what crimes this wicked being has committed. I would rather cease to be than serve one such as that.
When I have done what I set out to do, I'll just... go back to what I was doing before. Maybe I'll become a boulder, or a piece of seaweed, or a tree- that I've never tried before.
Maybe I'll do as you have done and become a human, live among them. I never thought of doing so before...
Boulders and seaweed and red-tailed hawks and bears and cougars and earthworms, they all have a function within nature. Some are powerful, some are weak, some are large or small, some are slow or fast, but all of them work a certain specific way. They eat, they breed, they react to stimulus, they die. Well, not boulders. But that's something else entirely. Boulders are rather unpredictable, but they too have their own function.
But humans... their actions are senseless and arcane. They engage in procreation without the desire to procreate, they trade items of great intrinsic value for worthless trinkets, and they intentionally impair themselves with various poisons. In my early travels, I'd found them... perturbing. Even as a human... I was once a human myself...
But perhaps there is something of worth there. If there are humans that can dominate those such as yourself... maybe there's something to them, something of value I've not yet seen, a sense in their madness. It's very exciting, really."
Here she breaks from her reverie, focusing back on Maurice.
"Nonetheless. I will... think on what you have said."


Back at the bar, she sits down, and beckons for Maurice to do so as well. "Payment, yes. Just what sort of payment is normally transferred in transactions such as these? Shiny baubles of gold and stones? Livestock? Members of the opposite sex? And what will be done with my end of the trade? Rape, torture, dark rituals, terrible experiments? Maybe sticking her in a gilded cage to engage in various didactic repartee?" She relaxes in her chair, smiling, quite interested from an academic point of view.

[Baerdog7]

Grandmaster Ander Windrivver

Ander heaves a heavy sigh as Oldak continues to defy him. When he speaks, the magical powers of his cloak lend the Divine Authority to his words and his eyes blaze white with righteous fury.

Oldak Chandler, when I summoned you here today it was with the intention of enlisting you to help me fight back a great evil in this world, not to cross swords with you. I have tried to explain the situation to you, I have presented physical evidence of the Council's torture and desecration of angels, and I have even attempted to bring you the site of these operations so you could see their evil with your own eyes. You have defied me at every turn, Oldak, because you are too blinded by your own arrogance.

As Ander begins to slowly advance on Oldak, a corona of holy energy begins to coalesce and swirl about him.

I'd heard Oldak Chandler was a strong man, a loyal man and, yes, a stubborn man. I had never heard that Oldak Chandler was a stupid man. That is what challenging the chosen Agent of the Gods is, you know. Stupidity. I draw my power directly from the Godhead; my arms and armor are gifts from Miriam and Athelion. Now combine that with a combat prowess I have honed since before you were born and a stubbornness and will to succeed that surpasses even yours. Do you still think you can possibly defeat me?!

With one swift action, Ander draws the flaming sword Justice and charges toward Oldak, his holy corona achieving near-blinding levels of brightness. Oldak bravely raises his sword to block Ander's charge but it shatters under Justice's might and Ander knocks the Grandmaster to the floor.

With a foot on his chest and Justice at his throat, Ander addresses Oldak Chandler one last time.

Miriam is losing patience with the Church, Oldak. She will show no mercy on the souls of those who throw their lot in with the Council. Not only that but if she gets too much more unsatisfied with how the Church is acting she may come down from her heavenly seat and wipe the entire world clean, a fact to which the other Grandmasters can certainly testify and which I would dearly love to prevent.

You are defeated, Oldak, but if you join me now you may be redeemed. This is the last opportunity for mercy that I will show you. Make your choice.

If Oldak refuses:

Spoiler

Show

Oldak Chandler, by the power bestowed upon me by Miriam and Athelion I find you guilty as an accessory to heresy and treason against the gods. Your punishment is death. May Azguloth have mercy on your soul for Miriam and Athelion will not.

Justice cleaves through Oldak's neck with one quick blow and Ander turns back to Ricster, his corona beginning to fade and the cloak's magic leaving his voice.

Let's go already.

If Oldak accepts:

Spoiler

Show

Good choice, Ander says as he allows the Grandmaster up and sheaths his weapon, his corona beginning to fade and the cloaks magic leaving his voice. Now find yourself another sword and let's go already.

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

”Great, now I have to work fast before any of you escape,” Sohssal said resignedly. With a dramatic gesture, he placed another whirlpool around one of the mermen. ”Okay, that's enough live specimens,” he commented. He held up one incorporeal hand, and the water around it turned to slush. Then he shot a lance of ice at one of the mermen. They carried more than enough force to pierce most humanoid race's ribcages.

”If I let any of you go, you might tell others how your weapons were worthless against me...” he muttered darkly. He continued casting the same spell, since it was precise enough to avoid hitting any of the equipment in the room, yet strong enough to kill a human. He kept one eye (or whatever he used to see now) on the exit in case any of them made a swim for it.

[The_Snark]

Marisiel

Seen from above, the remains of Phaedra resembled nothing so much as a gaping wound in the earth, bleeding tattered and colorful streams of refugees. Marisiel gazed down at the sight, to avoid looking at her sisters. It was over, though the victory seemed hollow. It should have been over.

But it wasn't. Those were demons down there, and the humans no longer had the power to resist them. She knew it; Ysora and Hephestia knew it; surely the Lady knew it as well. It tore at Marisiel's heart to think that she gave that order in full knowledge of what it would mean: return, give up, abandon those we have fought for. But she could not imagine that Miriam did not know.

She felt sick; it was as though a serpent lay coiled within her breast, twisting and squeezing. She couldn't breathe.

Before this war, Marisiel had never once done something she'd regretted. Like most angels, she did not truly understand why humans sometimes strayed from the proper path; unlike some, she refused to condemn them for something she did not understand, but it had always seemed impossibly strange. It was so easy: inflict no harm save in defense, be faithful, give of yourself to others, be kind. There was apparently some kind of appeal to Azguloth's way of doing things, but she could not see it.

The war had shattered her certainty, muddying what was once crystal clear. She'd killed humans, and not humans sworn to Azguloth; they fought in defense of their home and their Queen. That Queen was twisted, but did they know that? Or did they only see a horde of angels sweeping down from above, a mirror image of the hordes of demons that had swept up from below decades ago?

She clung to faith; the Lady would know the path, the Lady's guidance would bring this madness to an end, and it had. But the ending tasted of ashes to Marisiel.

Now, unthinkably, Miriam had told her to do something that felt clearly, jarringly wrong. What of those who'd had no hand in summoning demons? What of those who regretted what they had done? What of their children? She could not abandon all of them to their fate.

"My Lady," she said softly. The wind whipped away her words almost as soon as they were spoken, but it didn't matter; angels had keen ears, and Miriam would hear whatever was spoken to her. "I do not wish to leave yet."

There were a dozen things she could have said to try and sway her mother: she didn't want to allow Azguloth's creatures to escape; she'd wronged the Queen of Phaedra unknowingly, and wanted to repay that debt by caring for her people; she thought that protecting the humans in their hour of need might win their allegiance again. None of these things were untrue, exactly, but none of them would have been honest. She wanted to stay because that was what her heart demanded. There had been no right choice in the throne room; now there was. After so long mired in that war, she longed to do something that felt pure and simple and clear and right.

But she would not say that to her goddess, not when Miriam was already tired and angry and stinging from Titania's betrayal. She could not, would not add another betrayal to that burden.

"I cannot believe that all of them are lost to us. I ask that you allow me to stay a while—for my sake, if not for theirs." The silence after she spoke was frightening. Titania had become Miriam's enemy so quickly, so irrevocably. So had Melcara. What would happen if Miriam refused? What would she do? Istomilo's face danced before her eyes; now she understood all too well why he'd stood aside when she fought Titania. It would be a terrible thing to be faced with that choice.

"Please," she whispered.

[OverWilliam]

~Tare

As soon as the Inquisitor's eyes left them, Tare's hand leapt behind him to seek Melcara's, finding it by instinct rather than sight and squeezing in order to communicate the words he still could not speak aloud with the Inquisitor within earshot. 'Are you all right?' 'I'm here.' 'You did good.' In the moment, he didn't question the movement at all.

When the Inquisitor strutted out of the curio shop, Tare quickly sifted through the information that he had subconsciously gathered about the man-- this had not been a habit, but something about the way the man had acted bothered him. It was his eyes, Tare decided; all of his senses seemed heightened, but the man's eyes were sharper than a human's deserved to be. He also considered the Inquisitor's parting words, and felt in his gut that there had been truth to them-- it would be a cold day in hell before that man's eyes forgot something they'd seen.

In the sudden silence that descended upon the shop, as though the exotics-laden shelves themselves breathed a sigh of relief, Tare turned back to Gekko, smile gone. "I don't doubt it, Larry, but someone else's life is hanging in the balance right now. Within the hour," He reminded the information broker, urging him with dogged force to hold up his end of the bargain.

[Dorizzit]

Korram Alstan

Korram smiles ever so slightly as Fernard enters the tavern, happy to see another friendly face after so long. It grows a bit wider as Fernard mistakes Katrina for a lackey, although not mockingly so. He nods seriously at Katrina's assertion of her position in order to back her up. He takes Fernard's exclamation and friendly slap with a level of fatherly pride and a small grin.

"You have no idea. Katrina has proved to be very good at surprising people."

As they drink in silence as an overture to their business dealing, Korram savors the flavor of the cheap ale. Bad as it may be, it was still some of the first alcohol he had had in years. When they finish the first round, Fernard begins to speak seriously. Korram responds in kind.

"First and most importantly, I need a way into the capital without getting seen. Think you can help?"

[Inspectre]

Cathedral City

Baerdog7

Knowing that he was beaten, Odlak simply collapses back against the stone and closes his eyes.

“Do you know that I was Karth’s mentor? Oh yes, we were close friends. When he first announced his intention to cleanse the Church, I was one of those who joined him.”

Odlak opened his eyes to regard you sternly, despite your blade held at his throat.

“But the Church’s promised corruption never materialized, and Karth became a monster. When he destroyed his first village, my faith in the righteousness of our cause faded. When he burned his second, I abandoned my post. And then I joined with the Council to bring him to justice. Through my actions, I was able to redeem myself. Heh, the Council even gave me back my seat as an Exarch.”

Odlak shakes his head sadly.

“I can’t be wrong like that again, Ander. So if this is some sort of farce, if you intend to follow the same path Karth did, then kill me now. I would rather die free than the servant of another monster.”

(Going to assume this is the point where Ander helps Odlak up. Still, if you want to kill the idiot, go right ahead and correct me. )

You help Odlak up, and then go to arrange transportation to the capital. Rickster is able to provide griffons for himself and Odlak, while you remain mounted on the wyvern, and David takes Sharpbeak back to Dawn’s Hope. The trip lasts for a couple days, even mounted as you are, but is surprisingly uneventful and you find yourself approaching the city after night has already fallen. Although the gates will be closed at this late hour, they do have a small landing area that remains open for important dispatches. Doubtless Rickster could get you access, although if you weren’t careful, word of Ander Windrivver landing from a wyvern would get out. Then again, maybe you wanted to let the Council know you were here. In either event, the first act of business was to get in touch with Hondshioh and see how his investigation was coming. You pull out your communication crystal and activate it, surprised to see some degree of static spring up immediately. Apparently Hondshioh was in some sort of shielded area, that was working (unsuccessfully so far) to try and prevent your communication. The only places you knew of that had that sort of shielding was the Reliquary and the Council chambers. Of course, the Council could have been busy constructing other secret lairs about the city.

Archpaladin Zousha

A genuine smile crosses Katashiko’s face.

“Fantastic!”

A moment later, and a look of strain replaces her smile, but only for a moment before with a clacking shriek, the chains wrapped around her upper body fly apart! The guards first stare at you, and then at her, in mute shock. But their surprise only lasts a moment before they recover and leap into action.

One throws himself at you while the other races for the door – apparently the interior of this room was soundproof against the outside. Not unexpected given this room was used to conduct exorcisms, but definitely unfortunate for the guards. Katashiko moves to interpose herself between the guard and you, catching him about the neck with a single arm. She laughs as she lifts and twists, snapping the man’s neck effortlessly.

Then, hefting the man’s corpse up into the air, she uses him as an impromptu missile against the second, fleeing guard. Their bodies crash together just before the guard makes it to the door. He attempts to crawl out from underneath his dead friend, arm straining forward for the door handle. Katashiko is beside him in the next moment, grabbing his legs and dragging him back from the door. Then she snaps his legs in much the same way as she did the first guard’s neck, eliciting a horried squeal from the guard. Picking him up by the back of the neck, she holds his up to her mouth.

“Now normally, this is where we’d have some fun. But unfortunately, I don’t have any time for that, so . . “

Again grabbing the man by the broken legs, Katashiko swings him up, and then back down, face first into the floor. She repeats this until the man stops moving consciously, and merely spasms wildly, the last movements of a man who has had his head dashed against a hard surface repeatedly. Katashiko tosses the man’s body aside with a grin.

“Well, that’s settled! Who do we go kill next?”

Pausing as if thinking of something, Katashiko kneels down, running her fingers over the stone blocks of the floor longingly. After a moment, she looks back up at you.

“Y’know, I could probably convince these stones to part, and let us drop down to the next level. I might even be able to ask them to tell us where to go, assuming you can tell me what exactly we’re looking for. That’s all assuming your friends have not magically warded these stones . . . which I’m going to assume they weren’t stupid enough to not do.”

It is true that you are currently in the above ground portion of the Reliquary. Resistance was likely to become far stiffer the further down you went and the longer the defenders had to rally themselves.

Katashiko pauses a moment, glancing over at the first guard she killed.

“Or . . . I suppose we could do things the boring way, and I get dressed as a guard as well, and we go roaming around until we find whatever it is we’re looking for. Don’t really care, you’re the boss here – I’m just here for the killing.”

At this point, the communication crystal – Ander’s communication crystal – crackles to life. It is somewhat corrupted with static, but above ground the Reliquary’s shielding is not so great as to prevent communication completely.

Stonefall

The_Snark

There is a long pause after you speak. Both Ysora and Hephestia are shocked, although Hephestia is the only one who seems to be growing angry. Before she can release that rage in some sort of poisonous diatribe, your Lady’s voice rings through your head once more.

“Very well My precious daughter, I will allow you to stay. Someone should remain, to ensure that the demons do not consume humanity completely. Protect them however you see fit, but do not allow them to grow too complacent in their safety. Phaedra must never be allowed to happen again!”

And you can hear Miriam’s voice boom across the sky now, directed at every angel present.

“Humanity must be protected and watched, to ensure this terrible war never happens again! Any who wish to remain to fulfill this duty may stay. Everyone else is to return home immediately!”

Ysora looks at you with mild concern, while Hephestia turns away, her face full of disgust. Your sister immediately begins to open up a portal to the Heavens, and steps through it without a word. Similar portals begin to open up elsewhere across the sky, as the angelic host made ready to abandon humanity to its fate.

“Be careful out there. You know you will always be welcomed back. At least, so long as you don’t fall as Melcara did.” Ysora cautions, clearly concerned for you. She looks back one final time, and then steps through the portal Hephestia created. Within only a few minutes, the sky was empty. To your surprise, however, a very small handful of angels had chosen to remain. They closed in around you, looking to you for guidance as they had always done. Most seemed uncertain, clearly afraid that they had chosen to be trapped down here in a very real Hell-on-Earth sort of situation. But the group of three angels who approached you together, and were the first to arrive, did not seem quite so afraid. The lead angel inclines her head towards you as a sign of respect.

“Greetings, Marisiel the Protector. I am Morganna, and these are my dear sisters Maurice and Marta.” Of course, all angels were sisters, but it seemed that these three had become close friends.

And then, like mist melting away before the dawn, the dream begins to fade. You become aware of your surroundings again. And the fact that Caroline is curled up against you, smiling even in her own sleep.

The Island of Dr(?) Sohssal

Iethloc

These mermen were unarmored, and although their scales might have offered some minor protection from weapons, it was not sufficient to protect them from your magic. Again and again bolts of ice shoot out from your hand, penetrating their chests and shredding their internal organs. The water began to turn cloudy as dark grey blood seeped out from around the shards protruding from the dead mermen’s chests.

As a credit to their stupidity, the mermen fought on, throwing tridents and nets at you, which while quite accurate even underwater, did nothing more than pass harmlessly through you. Much too late for them, the last two mermen turned and began to swim away. The door way far away, however, much too far for them to cross the threshold before a pair of ice shards proved just as capable of penetrating from behind as in front.

Although the mermen did not seem capable of expressing fear in the same way as humans, you sensed that the two survivors you had captured for study were in awe. It had taken you a little under a minute to subdue the entire party of mermen, with an acceptable expenditure of resources. Indeed, for a mythical creature you had thought merely yet another seaman’s tall tale, dealing with the mermen was an exceptional boon. You had no doubt dissecting the two captives would make for an illuminating few days.

Unfortunately, it would seem that your work was not quite done yet.

We seem to be under attack. Creatures are emerging from the sunken parts of your laboratory.

Yeah, this is just great! First we have to deal with a laboratory infested with the remains of your pissed-off experiments, and now walking fish! Life’s never dull with you around, oh no Sohssal!

It would appear several groups of the creatures had slipped past you, either while you were finishing the repairs to your laboratory, or during your brief encounter just now. Either way, it seemed likely that your lackies, for lack of a better term, were in need of your assistance upstairs. Of course, they could probably hold their own for a while – the mermen didn’t seem particularly formidable (to your invulnerable self) – and cutting this infestation off at the source might be decidedly more productive. Undoubtedly, these creatures were slipping in through the large cracks Nepton and his followers had left in the basement of your laboratory, allowing the sea (and apparently, sea monsters) access.

Outside the Capital

Dorizzit

At getting down to business, Fernard’s expression grows steadily more serious. At the question of getting into the city, Fernard nods, a slight smile crossing his face.

“You’re in luck, as it turns out. Someone just put in for an order of weapons. Another old friend of mine, actually, who’s apparently planning on some skull cracking in the near future. Possibly in the capital itself, since that’s where I’m supposed to be delivering them. Maybe they’re planning to stage a coup, now that the king’s dead, eh? Seize the crown for themselves, ahahaha!”

Fernard chuckles at the thought of someone usurping the crown, and then shakes his head to clear away the mirth.

“Anyway, this gives us the perfect opportunity to restage our little Warmonger’s Surprise trick!”

“Warlord’s Surprise trick?” Katrina asks, looking first at Fernard and then you. “Sorry, wasn’t around for that one. Care to explain?”

Fernard chuckles again, holding up a hand to forestall discussion while he finishes draining his latest tankard.

“Okay, so there was this guy who was going to try to impress the Baron quite some time ago. He gathered up a bunch of mercenaries, and was going to offer all of their services to the Baron in an attempt to curry favor. He comes to *me* to procure weapons and armor for all of them. I sell him a bunch of crates of the stuff, because hey, that’s what I do. But hidden in a couple of those crates are the “surprise” part . . . Korram and a couple friends. Managed to get him and the others right into the middle of the camp, absolutely no suspicion whatsoever. Guy pays me, goes off on his merry way, and then that night comes to an unfortunate end as Korram and his merry band strike, killing the guy! And without him, the mercenaries disperse, taking the gear with them.”

Fernard slaps his palm on the table.

“An excellent plan, if I do say so myself! You came up with some good ones back in the day, Korram. It was my pleasure to help with that one.”

Fernard’s smile fades as he nods at your missing arm.

“And it’ll be my pleasure to help you both again, especially after that little failure on my part got you caught. I assume the magic mumbo jumbo failed in the middle of battle, something like that, and blew your arm off? I always wondered how the Baron managed to finally catch you. I feel responsible for that, seeing how I was the one that told you to go looking for that old coot. Did warn you that sort of magic was unreliable though, and I didn’t trust it myself! Looks like I was right.”

While Fernard orders another round of drinks, Katrina speaks up. An unexpected note of anxiety is in her voice.

“So, these crates we’re going to be getting smuggled in. How big are they?”

Fernard shrugs.

“Oh, about yea long by yea high and this wide. Should be more than enough room to cram yourselves into, provided you don’t breathe too deeply.”

Katrina swallows nervously.

“Oh. T-thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. We’ll set you up good. Ride might be a little bumpy and cramped, but you’ll get there without being seen for sure!”

Katrina looks visibly ill now, although she manages a nod.

“R-right. No problem.”

She downs her next tankard of ale immediately when it comes, and remains silent as Fernard looks at you both thoughtfully.

“So . . . I hear one of the Baron’s sons is planning on marrying one of the noble ladies in a couple days. You planning on crashing that party, that why you’re here? Going to need some good weapons for that sort of party. I could match you up with some . . . for a price, as always.”

Dark Falls

Kasanip

You test your bonds and examine your surroundings with your Descrying Eye, attempting to determine just how rotten of a situation you are in. As always, there is some good news and bad news. The imps had pulled the ropes holding you cruelly tight, but it seemed they had done a less than thorough job with the knots. As such, you might be able to squirm your way free eventually, gradually working the ropes a little looser until you could slip a hand free. Of course, with the imps and Carlain still in the room with you, and Cynthia destined to return shortly, you had no time or privacy really for such a struggle. They had neglected to remove your glove, and so your artificial hand was still active. It might be possible to use the hand’s strength to break the chair itself, which would allow you to slip free considerably faster . . . if you could somehow squirm around and get the mechanical hand in a position to do so.

The other option would be to use some of your Psalmic magic, although in your current disguise that was a little risky. But it would likely be the only way you could escape from this situation using magic.

Thankfully, your Eye reveals that the magical shielding seems to be a concealing, and not a warding, nature. Evidently Cynthia didn’t anticipate having to kidnap anything scarier than a hapless village girl. Looking around the basement, you can see the runes glowing faintly on the ceiling. They seemed to be good enough to conceal this basement, and more importantly the demonic signatures of all the imps, from any prying eyes outside. But they would most definitely not stop you from doing anything you wished to do with magic down here. Including teleporting away, possibly, although where you could teleport was a question. It couldn’t be very far, given your current situation and general lack of skill with teleporting.

Meanwhile, Carlain is taken aback by your words, although his jaw sets in grim determination at your concluding accusations.

“I’ve been a warlock since Mom got sick.” He says, inclining his chin in defiance at you, a comical gesture coming from one of your captors while you are still helplessly tied to a chair. “I’m going to get the power to make her better. Nothing else matters.” He says, although his tone reveals that last statement to be a lie. So the boy hadn’t completely given himself over to the warlocks yet – he still had his doubts.

“Sacrifices have to be made.” He says, trying to convince himself. “We’re going to change the world. And maybe if it weren’t for you! For the Canticle! We’d be able to do things better, without having to kill anyone. But force is the only thing that the Canticle understands – you started this whole thing!”

Carlain frowns as he realizes you’ve put him on the defensive, making him be the one to answer questions.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be the one doing the talking!”

Carlain gestures angrily with his knife.

“You better start telling me what I want to know! Or I’ll . . . I’ll cut you! Yeah . . . right on the face!”

Although still angry, the last words seemed more of bluster. It was clear that despite his desire to become a monster that routinely sacrifices others to demons, he was still not yet ready to hurt someone who had been like an older sister to him.

The Capital

Lonna

“Yeah, well . . . after you disappeared, I figured you got into some kind of trouble. I never expected to find you, and you, and you and you and you, all on a shopping trip in the capital bazaar.” Wulfric grunted, folding his arms across his broad chest. He jerks his head towards the evil twin’s husband, who had just pulled all of the letters out of your twins’ clothing. “Who’s this “kind gentleman” of yours, anyway?”

As the evil twin’s husband began to read, all of your twins suddenly screamed in anger and began writhing furiously. The one still lying on the ground somehow managed to tear an arm free, reaching up to yank the dark spike from out of her hair. She managed to hop up onto her feet before a hard punch to the jaw from Wulfric sent her crumpling to the ground again, the dark spike tumbling from her hands.

A few moments later, your twins scream again – this time not in anger, but in agony as all of their clothes erupt into flame. Unlike you, the fire was not the friend of these girls, and they were engulfed in all-consuming flame. Packed together in the back of the cart, the combined heat was enough to set the cart itself on fire, spooking the horse and causing it to suddenly take off down the street, dragging the flaming cart behind it.

Wulfric immediately moves to put out the burning figure writhing about in the middle of the street, but as he swoops down with his cloak to smother the flames, his hands crush the girl’s remains into a greasy layer of ash. Abandoning his cloak, Wulfric staggers back up to his feet and away from the pile of ashes that is all that is left of your twin.

“What . . . what the Hells is going on!?” Wulfric stammers, his face going pale at this display of dark magic. His eyes meet yours, a mixture of fear and anger clouding them. “TELL ME!”

WhiteKnight777

Pulling the letters from Fianna’s doubles, you remain at a safe distance while the driver and Fianna’s soultwin continue to jabber at each other. As you pull the letters from the clones, they shriek in rage and thrash about, attempting to get free – no doubt to try and assault you. One manages to escape her bindings enough to get up to her feet and pull a spike from her hair, but the driver sends her tumbling back down to the ground with a single punch. You barely even notice as you focus on the words written on the paper – all of the letters holding the same message. Fianna would hardly have needed her clones to stab you – the words inflicted enough harm.

Dear Umber,

As you well know by now, I have no use for meaningless sentiment. As such, I will keep this letter short and to the point. This is my means of saying good-bye. By the time you are reading this, I will already be preparing to meet my fate. There is nothing you can do to stop me now. Still, in an effort to forestall any further foolishness on your part, my double will be stabbing you in the chest now. Consider it my parting gift to you, a chance to join me in the glorious oblivion of permanent death. Good-bye.

Fianna

As you look up from the letter, you see all of the Fianna doubles erupt into flame. Apparently, Fianna had also woven a destructive enchantment into the clothes, in an effort to eliminate any evidence that remained after her doubles had (ideally) eliminated you. And since you had in fact survived, it now meant that you would have very little to interrogate except a pile of useless ashes! Although, it seemed Fianna had made an important mistake . . . her soultwin was much more capable than the rest of the pawns she had used. And with her help, perhaps you could discern Fianna’s location before it was too late.

OverWilliam

After another minute of awkward fidgeting, Larry nods his head.

“Well Tare, I’ll be sure to take care of your request, don’t you worry about that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be getting back to work.”

And with that, Larry wanders off as he usually does to dismiss people from his shop. He does not return, and you and Melcara see yourselves out. Uncertain what to do now, or even if there was anything you could do but wait for Brock, you wander down to a small tavern you used to know. Despite your connections with the Thieves Guild, you are aware that few members go there, for whatever reason. But Brock knew about it, and he’d know that’s where to find you. As it turned out, you didn’t have to wait long.

About an hour after you arrive and take a seat, the door tinkles open again to admit Brock and half a dozen other men – hired muscle, judging by their craggy faces and bulging overcoats. The muscle goes over to pile around a nearby table, leaving Brock to approach you alone.

“Well, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it Kid?” He says with a false smile, sliding into a seat across from you. He nods at Melcara.

“Who’s the pretty girl? If I had known Ironheart was full of such delectable flowers, I might have let myself get caught long ago, hah!”

Brock’s expression immediately turns serious again.

“So what’s this about Tare? You come to settle up your debts with the Guild? Or are you still sore about that last cushy job you turned south?”

Gorgondantess

At first this Mr. Montegomery merely looks confused. When you mentions what is to be done with your half of the trade, a look of – you still weren’t an expert on human facial expressions, but you’d say this one was revulsion – passes across his face.

“I don’t really know or care what is going to be done with the . . . merchandise. I’m just an intermediary here. As for your payment, generally we do money here, but perhaps you could convince the buyer to offer something else. A favor for a favor, as it were.”

Mr. Montegomery looks around nervously, and then leans in close to whisper – why did humans *always* do that when they whisper?

“Anyway, we need to confirm the veracity of your . . . merchandise. Lots of people have come by here claiming to have what my client is looking for. None of them did, and now they’ve all moved on.”

At this point the man stops to look at you intently. You aren’t quite sure what this latest human saying was supposed to mean exactly, but judging by his posture and context, it was a threat of sorts. Apparently others had come before you, with false offers, and upon discovery, had been killed or driven off – hence “moved on”.

“So, assuming you wish to continue with your claim, I can provide you with directions to a Mr. Gentry. You and your associate here.” Mr. Montegomery shoots a glance at Maurice.

“Make sure you have the merchandise with you when you go to meet him. He is not a patient man, and all these false sellers have set him on edge.”

Wonderful. Yet more games and running around at the whims of these paranoid humans. But since you had a lot of human witnesses here in the tavern, and this man was not the actual seller, you didn’t have a lot of choice.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Hondshioh

The giant-blooded paladin listens to Katashiko's options, and nods at each one.

"If you can speak with the stones, it would be a great help. Any information we can get will be-" he's cut off when his communication crystal activates.

"Ander! Hold a moment, Katashiko, my commander's trying to contact me. He may be able to tell us exactly what to look for."

He focuses on the crystal.

"Ander? Can you hear me? A friend and I have infiltrated the Reliquary. We were just about to try and figure out where to go next. Repeat..."

Hondshioh repeats the message to make sure Ander gets it through the static.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber set his jaw as the letter disintegrated. He turned back towards the soul-twin of the woman who had put so very much effort into trying to die. For a moment, Umber despaired - did he have a right to save someone who did not want his help, even his beloved Fianna? At what point did he have to let her make her own choices? At what point did love end and slavery begin - after all, if she wanted to end her existence, was that not her right?

No! Umber shook off his bleak thoughts - Fianna's suicidal urges were the result of the spell they had woven together, all those years ago. Gritting his teeth, he ground his fist into his open palm. He would restore her heart to her - and if she still wished to die after that, he would join her. But he was not about to fail the woman he loved in her hour of need. Sometimes love was a bed of down and warm, all embracing bliss. And sometimes love was walking across a desert of broken glass.

Seemed he was having more and more of the latter moments, lately. But that was going to end, one way or another.

He looked towards Lonna and the screaming, frightened man, suddenly all business. "I'm afraid we've passed the point where I can afford to be considerate. The woman I love is about to do something very rash. And I will save her, or else I will join her. I reccomend you hold still."

Umber reached down into the well of his soul, drawing for his power. His hands weaved a complex webwork of red light in the in the air around Lonna, mystic incantations rippling off his tongue in a smooth, liquid language. Streamers of light coalesced about her, working the mystic bridge between two linked souls, forming a strange, twisted little cherub out of mystic energy - an unthinking construct designed to lead Umber to his long-lost love.

[Gorgondantess]

She glares at him a moment, then stands up, quickly enough to send her chair spinning backwards. Gripping the table with one arm, she holds the other before her as it twitches and spasms, ready to tear this wretched worm's face off. What a delightful exercise of power it would be to hurl him across the room- perhaps into a crowd of others- and advance on him, slowly, demanding an end to this farce, the man groveling on the floor, expelling all sorts of fluid- sweating, crying, slobbering, bleeding, pissing- to have him reveal all his secrets, and then be torn in half above her head, showering her with gore and viscera.
Thinking this, she realizes she is standing there awkwardly. No, such a display wouldn't be fitting, dangerous and in excess. She would get what she wanted. Eventually.
Besides, Maurice would frown upon such a display.
Drawing the sword at her side, she lays it on the table. "Her sword. I should wonder as to your veracity if that is not enough for you...
Nevertheless- end this game and tell me where I can find this buyer. And I certainly hope that this is a buyer, and I will not have to go through any more middle men, or I will certainly move... on... You."
She flusters, and wonders if it wouldn't have been better to just tear his face off. Well, never too late for that, anyways- she could always just do so if he decides to make a snarky comment.
Of course, she likely doesn't, and heads to the buyer with all possible expediency.