Return to Ironheart IC

[Baerdog7]

Speaker Ander Windrivver

((Forgot to continue the conversation with Morganna in my earlier post. Whoops.))

No actually, I'm not here to see Miriam at all. I'm here trying to drum up recruits for Project Revenant. The Baron was defeated at Narle but he took the Capital City, its inhabitants, and nearly all the paladins and angels down to Hell with him.

Oh, and the Fiend Lords are loose. Set free by your boy Crane just minutes after your death. He blew up the Reliquary and took a dive off the Speaker's Aerie after I broke free of his control, he says with tinges of anger creeping into his voice.

Ander takes a deep breath and calms himself down.

Long story short, Nihlus attacked Luxien and stole your journal about how to create Hellgates and revealed that he's trying to bring about the Prophecy of the Certain King. I'm building a team to go to Hell and stop the Fiend Lords for good. If I fail and Nihlus succeeds, I need Project Revenant to summon an army to fight him.

**********

"Ander, good morning. I am on my way to the palace, but I do have something I must tell you." She greeted him with a nod of her head, and then hesitated. She looked up at the angelic human, feeling a terribly sick feeling in her stomach.
"Who are you? There are no male angels, as far as I can remember. Unless something terrible has happened."

This is Redeemer, an einherjar. With Miriam's seclusion and the high losses suffered by her angels, Athelion has seen fit to give human souls divine powers of their own in order to fill the void, he explains. I've only just found out about them myself.

She waited for an answer stiffly, before continuing her conversation with Ander.
"I learned last night that there is a man, named Korram Alstan in the mortal world. He is currently going to Luxien. I was told that...he would be willing-" She looked at the human-angel with small suspicion, and then continued in a slightly lower voice.
"-to help your expedition into the hells. "

Ander nearly jumps with surprise at this revelation.

Korram is in the mortal world? This is great news! How did you learn about this? Was it the High Inquisitor?

After Lukina's answer, Ander leans in close.

I suppose you're here to see Miriam, he says in a low voice. I understand why you want to do it...but be careful. She's changed since Genevieve knew her. Don't let her pressure you into becoming anyone...anything you don't want to be.

He stands back up and turns back to Redeemer.

Come on, time's burning and I'd like to beat Korram to Luxien. Farewell Miss Lukina, I'm sure we'll speak again soon.

((When Ander gets back to Luxien, the first thing he'll do is get his new brands applied. Then he'll check in with Randall about his potential recruits, Tiberius to check the status of his men, and any of his other Exarchs who have pressing news while he waits for Korram to arrive.))

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

”Pardon my...excitable companion. We were looking for the prisoner records,” Sohssal explained. He had hoped Incom would have been more...temperate. Maybe his recent transformation affected him more than Sohssal initially thought. At the very least, he didn't want to have to fight his way through until after he got what he wanted.

[Inspectre]

The Heavens

Baerdog7

At your mention of Crane’s actions, Morganna seems shocked.

“Wait, what!? I knew Crane was a corrupt member of the Church, but I never fathomed that he was in league with the Fiend Lords! Why would he do such a foolish thing!? He was a member of the Reliquary Guard before I assigned him to watch over you in Ironheart!”

Morganna is silent for a long few moments and then sighs.

“It must be the Black General’s doing. He was the only Fiend Lord that was able to interact with his jailors. What he could have promised Crane to convince him to violate his oaths so utterly I don’t know – it’s unbelievable. But the Black General always said he was going to outmaneuver me, and it seems he did just that. I . . . I have been a fool. Though I suppose that is no surprise to you, is it? What are you going to do now?”

(Continued below)

Baerdog7 & Kasanip

(Catastrophe? Heheheh . . . you just said the magic word, Baerdog7! )

As Lukina is clearly uncomfortable around Redeemer, the einherjar is likewise uncomfortable around her. Nonetheless, he is polite and respectful, bowing deeply to her once she has been introduced.

“It is an honor to meet Miriam’s Champion. It is my fervent hope that we can reunite Miriam with all of Her lost daughters, from Marisiel down to the youngest angel. Although . . . I must admit that I am confused. You appear to be human, and yet I can sense Genevieve’s soul within you – and Ander calls you Lukina. Why is that?”

While it seemed likely that the group would be parting ways shortly, as it turned out there was one more obstacle that they would need to face together. In the distance, plumes of black smoke suddenly erupt from the city streets. The Hells had returned although it quickly became clear that there was a different agenda behind this attack. Explosions begin to bloom near the smoke-belching portals, causing a number of the city’s intricate white-marbled buildings to crumble and fall. From one of the nearest plumes of smoke a voice familiar to Ander roars out a challenge.

“COWER BEFORE YOUR TRUE MASTERS, HUMAN FILTH! THIS WORLD BELONGS TO AZGULOTH, AND THERE IS NOWHERE YOU WILL BE SAFE! SEE NOW THAT YOUR PATHETIC GODDESS’ IDEAL OF A WARM, SAFE PLACE FOR YOU TO HIDE IN IS JUST AN ILLUSION! THERE IS ONLY SUFFERING! AND DEATH!!!”

Mammon crowed, his voice echoing throughout the city, a mechanical distortion to it making it seem even less human than normal. Rather than an explosion from that direction, there is a bright flash of light, and then several buildings begin to topple. Redeemer is flying up into the sky before the last one vanishes within a cloud of dust and shattered marble. He points in the direction that Mammon’s voice came from.

“I will scout ahead to determine the nature of the fiends’ attack! Perhaps, Lord General, you should return to the Palace and organize a defense with the other Einherjar! I will return as quickly as I can!”

Redeemer gets ready to fly off when he pauses again and looks back down at Lukina.

“Genevieve, or um, Lukina! Would you prefer to assist the Lord General or myself? Are you able to fly . . . somehow?”

The Hells

The Mire of Desolation

Archpaladin Zousha

Given the nature of the music’s effects, seizing your friends in the grip of intense negative emotions and hallucinations one minute and leaving them merely on-edge the next, it is hard to predict whether the now almost deafening silence would cause additional episodes. But for the moment at least, they all are lucid enough to follow your gestures, taking up defensive positions around the door while you deal with the room’s occupant. As you extend a hand in friendship toward her, the strange girl flinches and presses herself as far back away from you as the balcony’s railing will allow. Her bloodshot eyes sweep you up and down, heavy with mistrust as she slowly croaks out.

“No! No . . . you should go. Shouldn’t be here. Mustn’t! You’ll be punished. I . . . I need to start playing again!”

The girl hunches over her instrument, but as she lifts the bow up Katrina turns away from the door to glare at her.

“You start playing again, and I will break off every single one of your damn fingers and feed them to you!”

The girl freezes a moment, and then lowers the bow away from the violin. She starts trembling uncontrollably, although you don’t think that it was Katrina’s threat that was terrifying her so.

“If I stop . . . for too long . . . SHE will come . . . you won’t like being around HER.”

The girl croaks, a desperate, pained note starting to enter into her voice. Now much closer, you can see that each of her fingers is a callused, scar-covered mess – the result of playing a stringed instrument for far, far too long. Dark, black blood drips from one finger on the girl’s right hand, the result of her current stretch of playing. Seeing that she might still be on break for a bit, the strange girl puts the injured digit in her mouth, sucking on it. You had seen some unpleasant things thus far in your time down in the Hells, but this girl was perhaps the most pitiful. On the other hand, things were not always as they seemed within the Hells, either.

“Please . . . let me play. We . . . we can talk . . . while I play.”

The girl adds, clearly bargaining now. Adding urgency to the girl’s request is a chorus of indistinct whispers that break through the silence, almost imperceptivity growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.

The Black General’s Citadel

Iethloc/Pwenet

At Incom’s challenge, the hot needles stop their torturous scrawling, and the creature’s pillow turns in place, bringing him around to face the group. Looking at the creature’s front is remarkably similar to staring at its back – the purple silk hood drawn tight over its skull lacks any eyeholes or ornamentation to suggest a particular facing. Only the presence of a flat, pressed-in nose and a thin mouth that has been sewn shut confirm that the creature is now facing the group. A moment later and it speaks again, clearly telepathically as its bound lips don’t even twitch.

“I take it that you are in a hurry, then. You have come to the right place if you are seeking an Ix. I am the Recordkeeper, supervisor of my glorious master’s dungeons. I have been empowered to negotiate purchases, though business is usually handled by lesser beings. I can only assume that you are searching for something – or someone – specific. And that either those dimwits are unable to locate the Ix in question, or that you are important enough to be worth wasting my time.”

The Recordkeeper gestures, and the set of fire needles lower themselves into a set of holders next to the tortured captives. With another gesture, he summons up a series of leather-bound tomes from the nearby library shelves, the books floating around him like a corona.

“Some details would be useful in locating this Ix. Gender, time of arrival here at the Citadel, it’s mortal name – all of those would make the search a good deal faster.”

The Mortal Realm

The Box

OverWilliam

You are concentrating on how to navigate the next set of traps safely – a series of scything blades followed by a rain of knives from the ceiling combined with a spring-loaded plate designed to launch whoever was standing on that section of the floor up into the knives when your concentration is broken by a cough. Straining your neck as much as you dared rather than twisting any other part of your body, you look behind you to see Nihilus folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m assuming that you are trying to look into the future, ferret out which exact set of actions will allow you to bypass each set of traps so that you can move safely through the room, one inch at a time. Not a terrible idea, although one that will take FOREVER!”

Nihilus smiles behind his mask as he gestures down at the marked circle beneath his feet.

“I’m a little disappointed in you, boy. I *did* say that standing on the circle was the only safe spot in the room, yes? I thought you would have tried to trip the traps from within the circle, and trust in the perversity of the idea that you literally are perfectly safe while inside the circle. Or perhaps send waves of body doubles out into the chaos to expend themselves and the traps while you followed along behind. Or even just slipped into the gap between worlds and walked through to the box unharmed. But instead you choose simultaneously the most interesting and boring way to go about it!”

Nihilus shakes his head.

“Boy, you need to stop thinking like a thief, and start thinking like a god! You have the right idea, but you’re going about it all wrong. You’re trying to look through every single possibility and pluck out the best one, like you’re simply solving a very complex lock. Life is a lot more complicated than that, and trying to explore every possibility it can provide will drive you mad, to say nothing of the moment passing long since before you realize that was your only chance! Don’t focus, don’t try to organize every potential into a list of pros and cons, don’t think. Feel! Visualize the outcome that you want, trust your instincts to guide you there, and then open yourself to the future. Oh, and be ready to duck in case your instincts were wrong. Ready to give that a try?”

Nihilus concluded, as he stretched a foot outside of the circle and deliberately stepped down onto a pressure-sensitive plate that you had avoided even without the future-scanning.

“If not, I guess the appropriate phrase would be, ‘I’ll see you in the Hells!’”

And the room erupts into chaos, as a number of traps throughout the room activate, periodically filling nearby sections of the room with scything blades, gouts of flame, and crushing plates. Most of them do not appear to be activating any other traps in turn, but their presence alone would be another variable that you would have to deal with in addition to the waiting, currently inactive traps. And, ever so faintly now, you can hear a ticking sound, counting down the time to when presumably you really will not want to be inside this metal box deep underground any longer.

Luxien, The Cathedral City

Dorizzit

”Um . . . yeah.”

Calcifer responds after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m not exactly a huge fan of this idea, but . . . my own options are limited as well. There’s only so much that I can do from this side of the Veil, and I can only assume that its destruction will be precipitated from your side. I really don’t want to see that happen, if only because it’ll make attempting to keep my Court organized an unending nightmare once they’re free to come and go, burninating the countryside as they please. And I don’t exactly feel right leaving this all up to you with just a warning and warm wishes . . . to say nothing of the fact that you’d probably screw it all up without me around. So I guess . . . and for the duration of this crisis only . . . I’m willing to merge with you and fight by your side again? Or your insides, as the case may be, I suppose.”

The flick of flame bobs and weaves in mid-air for a moment, and then explains its offer further.

“Of course, I can’t just do it right here and now – there’s still the Veil in the way. Communicating with you in this way is a strain as it is. So . . . you probably aren’t going to like this one bit, but if you want my help you’re going to need to get back to your side of Infernas’s Nexus. And then jump inside. I’ll be waiting for you on my side, and assuming I can merge with you quickly enough . . . you won’t be incinerated to death? I . . . suppose you could also try to find that same mage that summoned and bound me into your body in the first place, but do you know where he is? At least the Nexus will be in the same exact spot where you left it . . . probably.”

Suddenly, your vision dimmed for a moment, before snapping back into clarity. Calcifer grunts in concern.

“Looks like I’m losing my connection to you! Best of luck to you Korram, whatever you decide to do! I’ll be waiting!”

And then the dream fades into blackness, and then reality as you groggily claw your way back to consciousness. It is just before dawn, and already the griffon is up and clawing at the ground, eager to return to the sky.

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

It takes another few days of similar travel to get to the city of Luxien, but soon enough the city is stretching out beneath you. Judging from the condition of a number of the city’s buildings, the paladins’ home has already fallen under attack. Still, that does not mean all of the paladins have perished, an idea that is confirmed as a trio of griffon riders fly up to meet you.

“Halt! State your business traveler!”

The leader of the three shouts at you.

Vegna

At your sign of support, Val’Tosh grunts in agreement and lays his meaty paw on top of your hand. Elise is silent for a moment, then sighs and begrudgingly lays her much smaller hand on top of the ogre’s. Master Vork smiles and nodes, motes of dust beginning to appear at the corner of his eyes.

“Thank you. I do not know if I deserve your support after all this, but I promise you that I will not let any of you all down again – or I will die trying.”

“Do you think we could skip the whole dying part? Though I suppose pounding Terra back into gravel wouldn’t be so bad.”

Val’Tosh grunts, prompting a smile from Master Vork’s clone even as it raises a finger to wipe away the earthen tears.

“Well, we certainly can try.”

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

It takes nearly a week of travel to arrive at the paladin’s city of Luxien. The journey is fraught with tension, as you never know whether the elves – or worse, Terra – will launch an attack against your slow-moving train of refugees. But no actual danger materializes, and eventually you find yourself standing before the marbled walls of Luxien, the Cathedral City. The paladins are not one bit surprised to see you – evidentially they had been taking in refugees for quite some time now. Worryingly, however, the city itself seemed to be in some amount of disarray – crumbled buildings cordoned off and patrols of guards hustling along every street. Had the elves launched a daring raid against this fortified city already?

As a small group of paladins leads your weary group through the city towards where the other refugees were set up in an ever-expanding city of tents, Master Vork nods at you and slips away from the group when the paladins aren’t looking.

“I’m going to get the necessary supplies that we need. If Terra attacks while I’m gone, led him out the West Gate. I’ll meet you there! Otherwise, I’ll find you in a few hours.”

Your master instructs before he ducks into an alleyway, and is gone. Once you and everyone from Silverstream had been issued the few amenities that the paladins could still provide, you are left to your own devices within the refugee camp. Most of the villagers wander off throughout the camp, seeking relatives and friends from other villages that they hoped had managed to make it here to safety as well. The three of you stick close together, waiting for Master Vork to return so you can depart before Terra finds you. Unfortunately, your hopes are dashed when you hear a familiar voice call out to you from one of the nearby tents.

“Hello Mal.”

The tournament organizer, aka Terra, says as he steps out into the sunlight, still appearing to be just an frail old man. He nods in turn to Val’Tosh.

“Val’Tosh. You’re looking well. And you . . .”

Terra’s brow furrows as he studies Elise’s face.

“I don’t recognize you. Another one of my old master’s “students”?”

“You must be Terra. I expected you to be . . . more impressive.”

Elise says flatly, prompting a chuckle from Terra as he examines the group.

“Well, appearances can be deceiving. All of you should know that by now, given that you’ve been all trained by little more than practice dummies! “Master” Vork is rather frightened that I will find him, you see, and make him finish what he started.”

“That’s okay, we’ll finish what he started for him.”

Val’Tosh said, pounding one fist into the palm of his other hand, while simultaneously gulping. Terra simply laughs.

“Was that really the best you could come up with? Although, having seen you fight already, I suppose I should have expected to be disappointed. Master Vork’s lessons just aren’t as . . . all-inclusive as they used to be, are they?”

“So are we going to fight or are you going to just talk us to death?”

Elise questioned, and Terra shrugged and shook his head.

“Bah, if I wanted to kill you it would already be done! No, I have far better uses of my time. Instead I came here today for a different purpose. I came here to make you all an offer – join me as my students, and I will teach you the true Terra-style!”

“You – wah!?”

Val’tosh grunted, and Terra merely sighed in irritation.

“I did not misspeak, you simple-brained oaf! I have decided that I miss the parental bond of master and student, and so wish to take on students of my own. You already have a . . . rudimentary understanding, and I assume that you don’t want to die, so this seems like a mutually beneficial arrangement to me. I only ask one thing in return – that you help me to locate our former master, the real Master Vork, so that I may . . . show him how much I have learned in his absence.”

“Never! I mean, uh . . . we aren’t going to take his offer, right Mal?”

Val’Tosh whispers to you.

“Take a few moments to think it over!”

Terra calls.

“I assure you, it will be the most important decision of your lives!”

Phaedra

The_Snark/Lonna

At your challenge, Titania’s pale face flushes with indignation.

“And perhaps, daughter, I have taken pains to shelter you too much, and so have allowed the pain and horror of the Valkyrie’s wrath fade over your many lives.”

The Queen of Phaedra hisses, wincing suddenly and relaxing back into her throne, reaching one hand up to massage her forehead. After a moment, she continues, her voice almost entirely bereft of strength.

“But perhaps you are right. If nothing else, spending time with Miriam’s whore may convince you to look beyond just the surface of a thing, and how to judge it by its true nature. Now leave me . . . run along and play, dear. Mommy needs . . . to rest . . . awhile.”

Ice begins to crawl up the throne, and up Titania’s legs, encasing the queen in a shell of solid ice. Titania closes her eyes with a half-sigh of relief, and within moments is completely entombed in a semi-transparent shell. It seems that the two of you have been dismissed, without further instruction or demands from your (perhaps not exactly gracious) hostess. What would you do now?

(If the two of you would like to chit-chat . . . now would be the time to do so! )

The Past Age

WhiteKnight777

Reacting as quickly as this appropriated shell of poorly-preserved meat allowed you, you lumber over to the Elixir’s cauldron just in time to snatch the vial from just above the liquid’s surface. Glancing down at the vial, you can see an almost imperceptible crack starting to spiderweb across the glass’s surface. No doubt the result of the vial being bounced off the stone ceiling – clearly Marialta still had her impeccably good luck. Whichever side you ultimately took in the coming argument, you would need to see it brought to an end quickly – or the disintegrating vial would choose for you.

“Me first.”

Nihilus growled, punching Marialta in the solar plexus and shoving her back as she opened her mouth to hurl more accusations at the Writer. Predictably, Marialta stumbled but did not go down, managing to keep her balance with every step until she managed to regain her footing. Meanwhile, Nihilus put the brief time to good use.

“We’ve already talked about this, Umber! Without the Elixir, not only do you lose everything, but you go insane and unleash Azguloth to destroy the world! Without the Elixir, everything I’ve worked – and everything you will work – for will be for naught!”

“He sent me to kill you!”

Marialta blurted out when she finally regained her breath. For a moment, awkward silence reigned in the room as Nihilus looked over his shoulder at her. Marialta thought about what she just said a moment, tugging on one of her ebon tresses.

“I mean, he sent future me to kill future you! Or you, or . . . ugh, time travel is so confusing! But that’s what his great plan is all about – getting you out of his way!”

At this point, Nihilus merely shrugs.

“Well, I can’t technically confirm this, but when I looked through what memories were intact from Marialta’s shredded soul, that was the gist of it. But let’s not forget it was not without cause! I harbor no ill will towards you Umber, and was perfectly happy to let you go on your merry way as a nobody, a listless wanderer cast adrift on the seas of Fate with no direction, no purpose, and no destiny. But you just couldn’t let it go, could you? You had to undo the Elixir, had to reach to take up the reins of your ultimate destiny once again! What was I supposed to do, stand aside and let you and the Baron flip a coin to decide which of you would end the world!? No.”

Nihilus extends one hand out to you, while casually dropping the other hand back into his cloak – right where he kept one of his daggers.

“Now I’ve been as accommodating as I can be, given the circumstances. With you trapped in the past, and the Baron dead, there will be no Certain King – at least not until the next one raises his ugly head! But I’m not that future Nihilus who came up with this plan. With you here, perhaps we can work together to devise a more mutually acceptable solution over the thousands of years we will have until all this unpleasantness happens again – but only if the Elixir remains intact and things still go according to plan! I know you, Umber! You always take the long game - this shouldn’t even be a hard decision for you!”

The Mortal Realm

The City of Amaranth

TechnOkami/daelrog

Amelia listens to Alons and Rosenberg offer their own input, and then nods thoughtfully.

“That is good news, Rosenberg! I had feared that perhaps your order would leave this matter to be settled between us and the elves without further interference. I am sure that your druids’ knowledge of the woods rivals that of the elves’ own. I know you just said that you don’t know when they will get here, but is there any way that you could get in touch with them? Perhaps they could help escort Ashley’s own reinforcements through the elves without many casualties.”

Amelia turns her attention to Alons – she doesn’t seem to notice the sudden fire in Alons’ eyes.

“Until those reinforcements get here, keeping them too off-balance to stage an effective assault on Amaranth seems like our best chance for survival. We know where their main camp is – perhaps this is too audacious, but could a small force sneak into that camp and sow significant chaos before withdrawing safely? I’ve . . . seen how effective only a small group can be, if they have surprise and attack at the right time.”

Amelia falls silent for several long moments, allowing Ross to growl enthusiastically.

“Aye! I’d be happy to lend my hammer to such a strike force. The stench of this city is starting to really get on my nerves.”

“Uncle . . . this sounds extremely dangerous! I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

Ashley argues, prompting Roland to clear his throat.

“I do, if the word of a glorified city constable carries any military weight. My men will fight to the death for this city – what choice do they have? – but many of them are just kids. And the rest . . . well, I’m not exactly keen on relying on this city’s bottom-feeding scum to protect it, but these are desperate times. Anyway, what I’m trying to get at is Alons is right – none of them are going to be a match for something that’s been fighting since before their fathers were born! We can make taking this city an expensive endeavor to the elves, but I don’t think the outcome is in doubt if the elves hit us with everything they have. Their caution is the only thing keeping us alive right now. Now maybe with the druids and some more paladins, the odds will even up a bit, but right now Amaranth holding out against the elves is a sucker’s bet.”

“W-what my brother said.”

Adam adds, leaving Ashley without any real allies at the table. With a defeated sigh, she throws up her hands.

“Alright, but who else are we going to send besides Uncle Ross? I’m assuming we aren’t going to trust the fate of an entire city to one old drunken paladin.”

That last comment earned a smirk from Ross as he reaches over with one massive hand and ruffles Ashley’s hair, and none too gently.

“Hey, I may be old, but I’ve killed more four and two-legged monsters while drunk than you’ve seen years in your entire life, little girl!”

“No, Ashley is right. While one person might have the best chances at slipping past the elves, they also have the best chances of being overwhelmed. I have no intention of this being a suicide effort. I also will not ask anyone to do something that I would not be willing to do myself, so . . . I will also be taking part in this effort. Perhaps I can recruit a few fire elementals early!”

Amelia concludes with forced cheer, as everyone around the table momentarily falls silent. But only for a moment, before she is arguing against the entire table, as Ashley had been a moment before.

“Absolutely n-n-not! You are too important to risk!”

Adam insists, while Roland shakes his head grimly.

“Can’t let you do that, ma’am.”

It is clear that the Pyrce’s brothers only served to make Amelia angry, though Ross’s argument was somewhat more effective.

“This is not going to be a pleasant walk in the forest, Amelia. Blood is going to be shed, and it’s going to be shed in a manner that’s not fitting for a noble’s hands.”

“I know it’s going to be unpleasant, Ross! You seem to have this idea that I’m just a sheltered child like most nobles, and maybe once that was true, but you’re forgetting something. I was married to Cheran Gast, quite possibly the most despicable and bloodthirsty human who has ever lived! The things I saw him do . . . to others . . . to me . . . I’m not some naïve child anymore!”

At the mention of Cheran’s name, Ross turns and spits on the ground.

“Your husband was as nasty as whoresons come, aye. But placing someone’s blood on your hands is a lot different than watching someone else coat themselves in buckets of it! And you don’t just start something like that . . . there’s training involved, however informal it may be.”

“You don’t know me . . .”

Amelia muttered, and then pressed again.

“If you say that there’s training involved, then teach me! You will find me an eager student!”

Ross snorts in disdain, causing the Countess’s cheeks to flush, first in embarrassment, and then in anger.

“Pah, the fact that you’re eager to learn just proves my point that you aren’t ready. Nobody goes looking for the kind of training I’m talking about willingly.”

For a moment it seems as if Amelia might resort to some sort of outburst, but somehow she manages to keep her bubbling rage in check enough to turn to Alons and Rosenberg.

“What do you two think? Would I not be an asset for throwing the elves into disarray!?”

GuyFawkes

Tur Villid is silent for several long moments, and it’s clear that he is thinking your dire warning over. The old elf is strong-willed enough to keep the concern off of his face even now, but he does seem to be several shades paler than he was when this conversation started. You are to be disappointed, however, for when he finally does speak, it is to voice the excuse of a soldier.

“Concluding this war is not up to me, but our King. But even if I had the power to order an end to hostilities between our people, I am not sure I could give it. Our people have suffered an endless string of abuses and humiliations from the humans, and now it is the will of our people and our gods to repay them a hundredfold! Justice cannot be quenched so easily, nor an arrow recalled once it has left the bowstring! Our people must fly on, to either our destruction or humanity’s! That is the way it must be, and if we are to meet our mutual end, then at least we elves shall meet it with honor, with heads raised and arrows nocked in defiance! Go cry for merciful peace with the rest of your craven brethren, human.”

Villid turns and starts to walk away, while Aurewlynn looks at him with a mixture of shock and frustration.

“Father!”

She calls after him, prompting Villid to stop. He does not turn around.

“Tell your fellow men that their fortress now belongs to the elves. And that we will hold it against any who dare try to take it away from us! I have nothing more to say to you.”

As Villid starts to walk away and the other elves turn to go, Aurewlynn looks back and forth between you and her people. Seeming to come to a decision, she chases after Villid, speaking in a loud and rushed tone.

“Father! Sir! I request permission to remain on detached duty, and continue to investigate the nature of this threat with this man!”

“Denied.”

Villid said without stopping, prompting Aurewlynn to stop in her tracks, arms folded across her chest.

“I owe him a blood debt.”

That prompted the elf general to stop and turn back to look over his shoulder, first at Aurewlynn and then you. He quirks an eyebrow, a measure of respect appearing his face.

“Indeed? Then you will need to do as your honor dictates. But know this – if you shed elven blood in his defense, then you are clearly not an elf after all. And I was mistaken to call you my daughter.”

Aurewlynn flinches at the threat, but stands her ground, raising one fist up to her chest.

“So be it. Vashali da’nari.”

“Vashali da’nari.”

Villid says with a pefunctual nod, and then continues his leisurely stroll away from you, the elves and possessed humans follow, several of them walking backwards and keeping a close eye on you. Within a minute, they are far enough into the forest that keeping track of them is difficult, and then they are simply gone. All save for Aurewlynn, who walks back to you with a sigh, her head lowered.

“I am sorry that I lied to you before. But I am not lying now. I owe you a blood debt – my life in service to you, until such time as I can repay your saving of my life. Or, if you would prefer –“

Aurewlynn draws a slender dagger from its hilt and its waist, offering the weapon to you pommel first.

“You can choose to take back your gift of life. After what you’ve just seen, I would not blame you for it.”

[TechnOkami]

Rosenberg & Co.

The young Druid ponders her question for a brief few seconds. He knows she's irritable and on the cusp of starting a firestorm. He moves his pipe away from his lips.

"I think you are a terribly important asset to controlling the Fire Elementals, and ultimately whether we can make use of them depends on you and you alone. Perhaps the Circle might have some amongst them that could control the Fire Elementals to some lesser degree, but not nearly to the degree as one whose bonded to a Fire elemental, let alone one whose power can rival a Fire Lord. And even if you did go, I would not want to risk those fire elementals slipping out of control with a Fire Lord there to challenge your own. No... I would not want to risk your survival on a mission that could go awry so easily, regardless of how much you might insist."

Rosenberg leaned back into his chair.

"As for the Druids, I might have a way to communicate with them. I can't guarantee if I can have them there to aid Ashley's reinforcements, but I'll see what I can do. Lastly..."

Rosenberg drew from his pipe, and exhaled before he finished his sentence.

"...I'll participate in this assault."

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Nobody

"Stand down, Katrina. Everyone, stop up your ears. I will talk to her alone."

He nods his head at her.

"Go ahead. I have nothing to fear from your music."

He knew that he was probably dooming anyone else out in that mire to more despair, but their house, their rules. If letting her play would let him talk to her more easily, then that's what he'd have to do.

[GuyFawkes]

Noctis/Lucifuge

"So be it. But I warn you, Tur Villid. That place will be your undoing. The evil in that place is far too powerful, corrupting even the gods' avatars. If you succumb to it, or heavens forbid try to free the great evil underneath the fortress on your own accord, I will find you and take you and your kin's lives without fail," Noctis said in an icy voice as the elves walked away.

Turning to Aurewlynn, he brushed off the dagger. "No matter. Your life is yours to choose. I would need all the help I can get, and I shall accept you if you so choose to go with me. But know full well that I shall be going against your kin, and if you think my cause is heavier than your blood ties, then come with me."

Noctis uttered some words of power, and soon a gust of wind swirled around him and the elf, and slowly the two are lifted a few inches up into the air.

"An elf called Galadren is leading an army against the human city. I shall go and inform them of it, and give them my aid. If you can stomach it, to go against your people, then take my hand. If not, then you are free to go wherever you please. Go and be with your father," he said, offering his right hand.

Noctis will wait for a few seconds for Aurewlynn to decide before taking into the air above the trees and speeding towards the direction of Amaranth. As he neared the city, he cast another invisibility spell on himself (and Aurewlynn if she came). He circled above the city, searching for the paladin's headquarters, and as he found it, lowered altitude and headed for a nearby alleyway where he dismissed his invisibility and flight magics.

If Aurewlynn was with him, he would tell her, "Stick close to me. Put your hood on, and let me do the talking," before walking out of the alleyway and heading for the headquarter's entrance.

"It is I, Noctis. I was with Ross and the Knight-Lieutenant earlier. I wish to speak to them"

[Baerdog7]

Speaker Ander Windrivver

Battle Music: "You've Sparked a War" - The Megas

“COWER BEFORE YOUR TRUE MASTERS, HUMAN FILTH! THIS WORLD BELONGS TO AZGULOTH, AND THERE IS NOWHERE YOU WILL BE SAFE! SEE NOW THAT YOUR PATHETIC GODDESS’ IDEAL OF A WARM, SAFE PLACE FOR YOU TO HIDE IN IS JUST AN ILLUSION! THERE IS ONLY SUFFERING! AND DEATH!!!”

A shiver runs down Ander's spine as Mammon's unmistakable voice bellows across the city. The shiver lasts for but a moment, his momentary surprise quickly turning into excitement. If this was how Mammon wanted to die, Ander was more than happy to oblige.

“I will scout ahead to determine the nature of the fiends’ attack! Perhaps, Lord General, you should return to the Palace and organize a defense with the other Einherjar! I will return as quickly as I can!”

No, Ander commands.

You see to the defense, rally the einherjar. Mammon is mine and mine alone.

His orders given, Ander conjures two Shards of Athelion and tucks them carefully into his belt. That done, he rushes off toward the source of the commotion.

MAMMON! Ander bellows as he arrives at the scene of the invasion, a corona of holy power burning brightly around him.

You speak boldly, Tyrant, but your boasts are empty! Three times we have fought and three times I have defeated you. Know today I will not be sending you to Hell, but to oblivion! Face me so I may reunite you with your brother Quietus!

With the bloodlust creeping like red mist at the edges of his vision, Ander throws himself into the melee. He strikes out with hammer, chain, and holy orb, carving a deadly swath through the fiendish horde until he reaches his goal: Mammon the Tyrant!

[daelrog]

Alons had been stone silent, seeing as the others tried to talk her down. "None of you see. You think the Countess a jewel, a fiery ruby that is meant to save your Amaranth by only making their elementals into ours. No, she will save this city over the charred corpses of your Elves, their dying screams erasing what silly notions you have of her virtue. Wars are not won by protecting those who must fight. However, one thing must be known."

He looked to Amelia. "Dearest Amelia, I ask you one question to know whether or not you should come. Have you ever walked up behind a man, and slid a dagger across his throat?"

Alons expected an answer from her, it was not a rhetorical question. It was his way of saying that only those who had killed in cold blood should come, for that is what they would set out to do.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber gave Nihilius a level look. Treachery. How unexpected. It made him want to tear his hair out some days, it really did. Everyone seemed to persist in thinking he was an idiot. Nobody respected their elders these days. Then again, Nihilius was his elder and a canny bastard. An important fact to remember. But the really important part was that his own plans had come to fruition. He was here, with the elixir, and the others were occupied. What's more, he'd gotten more information on Nihilus' plans and motivations than he'd expected. Better than expected, really.

Yes. It's possible that we could work together, Nihilus. And I would love that - truly, I would. You have an admirable goal. Breaking the bonds of Fate and making a world wherein destiny lies in the hands of man, rather than those of a monstrous and impersonal force - this is something worth fighting for. But I suspect that there's no place in your plan for me. After all, this world already has one Umber. I wonder, did you forget that this borrowed form is not capable of the same sacrifice that I - this time's version of I, that is - will make to obtain immortality? He gave Nihilus a wry look. Forgotten? Not likely. The bastard had been counting on him to forget it, though. "I won't have thousands. I'll be lucky if this corpse will have days, the way I've been abusing it, and given what my younger self is likely to do when I find me. I was a bit of an ass when I was younger. Just look at this scheme, after all."

Umber grinned down at the elixir, then sighed, and tossed the vial to Nihilus. "But with all that said... this isn't the solution either, Marialta." He gave Nihilus a wistful look. "I think I've found your problem, friend. You keep on losing Fate's game... because that's what you're playing. And I know what you're thinking "You can't escape the game, because everything becomes a part of it." Well, true enough... but there's one thing I think you've forgotten: Nothing is ever immune to itself. It's the enemy within that gets us in the end."

And as the vial whirled through the air, Umber's other hand produced a knife. He grinned his irascible grin as he slit his own wrist, a horizontal slash that immediately poured crimson down his hand. He plunged that blood-gloved palm downwards, shoving it into the nascent Elixir. And while it the life-granting thing it might have been, it was still power. All that it awaited was will and direction to give it shape.

It didn't matter that Umber couldn't access the sorcerous potential of his old body. That was merely a matter of energy, and energy was something Umber had in spades now. The liquid in the cauldron turned the crimson of his blood, then rapidly lightened, like iron heated from sullen red to white-hot incandescense. Umber's borrowed body began to burn, lines of power surging up from the immersed hand, until every vein and artery was filled with liquid light. He could feel his flesh burning from the inside out - Gods, he could smell it, the savory aroma of long pork, a scent which made his mouth water abominably. Well, he'd lived a very long life, after all...

But he was getting distracted. It was easy to do - his mind was racing, lifted free from the constraints of flesh, a purity of will and energy he'd not felt since his mortality had returned to him. He grinned even as his flesh immolated, pain transmuted into ecstasy. How had he ever wasted such potential on something as paltry as fleshy eternity? There was so much more he could do with this.

Umber had seen the spell that brought them to the past. Oh, he didn't understand it. No mind as close to mortal as his own could really understand time. It was difficult enough when it was moving the right direction, forget anything else. But he knew enough now to know that he was... alien here. An invader. But he was still linked to his own time, to his own version of things. And he reached out, his soul-pattern filled with coruscating energy as he took the elixir's monstrous potency, and touched the link that led to the place whence he had come. He reached out, and he tugged.

"And Marialta... do me a favor. Take care of yourself. And tell your sister I love her."

[The_Snark]

Mar

As an angel, Marisiel had been able to pierce human flesh and see the soul within: healthy or warped, pure or stained, human or spirit or grotesque Phaedran patchwork. Mar couldn't. She had to use human eyes and ears to judge people, and her eyes told her this: the princess was being nice to her.

Not just once, even. Defending her from Titania (only with words, but still). Whispered reassurances. The fire-cat. Warming her feet, soothing away the frostbitten cracks in the skin. It was a little odd. She could remember feeling repulsed by the sight of the princess; she just couldn't see it anymore. Aside from her hair, Pyria looked... normal, sort of. Like Wulfric, she had a basic human-ness that seemed out of place in this frozen world. It made it all the stranger when she talked about Phaedra's return to glory.

Strange or not, though, it added up to this: she owed the princess something. A simple thanks, at least. Mar didn't trust as easily as she once had, but she couldn't deny that.

"Thank you," she croaked. "I..." What she wanted to ask was why, but she didn't think she would get anything more than Titania did when she asked that. And if there was more, probably best not to talk about it here. Okay, so. What about what happens next? She could ask what Pyria thought Phaedra's return would mean. It wasn't all bad; Phaedra had been a beautiful place at first, before the war. A beautiful dream. But you couldn't just bring it back as it was, too much had happened, everything was too complicated for that. Yes, she should ask the princess that.

Instead she found herself crying quietly, wings and arms wrapped tightly around herself in the absence of anyone else to embrace her. (Not the princess. Too soon, too strange.) "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I don't mean to be ungrateful. I just feel like, like, everybody is treating me as this thing to be passed around, or kept like a pet, or I don't even know what. I never wanted this. I just..."

She trailed off, unable to express what she wanted, because at present she didn't really know.

[Kasanip]

Lukina

Lukina looked troubled by the Redeemer's words and question. Nihilus' words haunted her, and she crossed her arms unconsciously over her chest. Compared to Ander in his heavenly armor and chiseled charisma, or to the Redeemer who had wings, and heavenly armor of his own, Lukina felt awkward, her own armor pathetic in comparison. Save for Exshia, which she was proud and not ashamed to wear, and this was her comfort.

Being called a 'lost daughter' was not wrong. But hadn't she come to here? Not without help, of course. But the words ached a little. Here was a champion who was assured of purpose. Lukina was lost without that.

"I am Genevieve." She answered. And she had thought a long time about this answer. She had wrestled with it through nightmares last night, after Nihilus and Ysora. She was Genevieve, and she was Lukina. Only Miriam could heal the rift in her. Until she met Miriam though, Lukina didn't have the right to call herself Genevieve. And Genevieve, the Champion of Miriam, had sacrificed herself and had died when she made a promise with Nihilus.
"I am the soul who was Genevieve, and was given a second chance. And this chance, this hope is named Lukina. So, that is my name now, too. I know it is not a good answer, but please understand that I am here to meet My Lady and learn a better answer."
She looked up earnestly at Redeemer, uncrossed her arms and apologized.
"Forgive my rudeness. I-"

The attack interrupted quickly.

Lukina paused. What should she do? To return to the Palace and help to organize the defense? Miriam was there. She should return to Miriam, and Lukina wanted desperately to do this. But there was a threat here, to the Heavens. And that burned. It burned very deeply. No, she couldn't run away while these enemies caused trouble. If she went to Miriam now, how could she face her? What could she say?
Here in the heavens, she felt closer, more wholesome. Lighter. Empowering. The raw feelings from the talk with Nihilus were still there, too. She remembered the attack on the village, burning at night. She would not let that happen here.

She grimaced at Redeemer's question. Of course she wanted to go. And having met Ysora yesterday, she could only feel embarrassed without her own wings. Especially with the Redeemer, looking down from above.

General Ander did not give that chance for her to decide. Like the general should, his action was immediate. There was no worry. No hesitation to defend the heavens. Wouldn't Genevieve had been the same? Lukina's decision was made in that moment. She ran after the general down the street, pausing as blue flames began to glow about her, and her hair bleached. She looked back at Redeemer.

"I will stay with the General, go quickly and organize your soldiers!" She shouted. She turned back, looking as Ander enter the battle. So too, should a champion be. Lukina drew Exshia, and looked at the face -her face- in the mirror-like blade. This was who she was. Not a rock in an innocent body, like Nihilus had said.

"If I am still worthy of this sword from My Lady, then so I pray let my quality show through!"

She declared to the heavens, and to her goddess. And the flames howled around her in recognition, a blue halo burned brightly, and blue wings of fire burst into existence.

Then she stepped forward. Once. Twice. And then sprang forward into her own charge into the foes of the heavens, Exshia singing gloriously.

[Vegna]

Mal Harath

His heart thumps in his ears, as Terra makes his way towards them. He wasn't attacking them yet, Mal had hoped Terra would've needed more effort to find them. But considering his warning ahead of time, apparently not.

Listening to the being's offer, Mal is honestly surprised that Terra could even admit to such feelings, mixed in with the general psychotic urges. The technique that created him was no short fall, he was a living being, but such realisations didn't make him forget that he and Val'Tosh would be dead without one of their Master's "practice dummies".

"Of course not, I haven't got rocks for brains."

He whispers back to his friend. He pulls Elise slightly closer and into the discussion.

"We stick to the plan. Elise, you run to the West Gate and warn the Master, and some paladins too if they're ready. Val'Tosh and I will try and keep him distracted from you and guide him there a few minutes behind."

He gives Elise a supportive nod, trying to look brave before the hardest fight of his life. He then gives a grin to Val'Tosh, patting his thick arm.

"Lets do this, friends. Move on when I do."

The group opens up again, making Mal eye contact with Terra.

"We decline, Terra. Completely."

Willing the ground beneath Terra into sludge, Mal calls to his friends.

"Now."

He readies his stance, unsteady fists raised, legs bent, for Terra's counter, slowly walking backwards as Elise runs on ahead.

[Lonna]

The Pyria Cycle

Jacqueline exhaled heavily once Titania was encased in ice. It wasn't a sigh of relief. Not quite. But her shoulders relaxed, and she became aware of the faint crackling sound from the flames that had replaced her hair. Titania's satisfied for now. What happens next?

"Thank you," she croaked. "I..."

The winged girl hesitated, struggling to put something into words, before wrapping her arms and wings tightly around herself and beginning to cry.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I don't mean to be ungrateful. I just feel like, like, everybody is treating me as this thing to be passed around, or kept like a pet, or I don't even know what. I never wanted this. I just..."

As Mar trailed off, Jacqueline laid a hand gently on her bent head. "I know," she said quietly. "It was the only way I could think of to take you away from her.

Standing, Jacqueline closed her eyes and stretched out senses she had no name for, looking for sources of the flame that she encountered in every living being she healed. Given the unnatural environment, she expected it would not be difficult to find Wulfric's life flame, and she had no compunctions about melting her way through Titania's palace if that's what it took to find him. There.

Opening her eyes, Jacqueline smiled down at Mar. "I'm going to go find Wulfric. You should probably come along, Mmm- what would you like me to call you, by the way?"

[TechnOkami]

Rosenberg thought Alons was being foolish, seriously undervaluing the Countess' importance in all of this and wanted to throw his retort back at him. However... his inquiry to Amelia was a much more pertinent question. He too waited for a response.

[The_Snark]

Mar

The touch was just about right: enough to make her feel a little less alone, not so much that she felt trapped.

"Oh! Yes, of course - " Mar sat upright at the reminder of Wulfric, nearly tripping in her haste to rise. She felt embarrassed; of course the princess would want to see to Wulfric, not sit here and listen to her moping. Titania's assurances aside, he was off alone in Phaedra somewhere. Not safe. And she hadn't even thought of it until the princess reminded her.

And then, what would you like me to call you, as if the princess could see straight through her to the little knot of confusion inside. Well, maybe it wasn't so hard to tell at that. Mar didn't look much like Marisiel, aside from the wings. Titania and Istomilo treated her like she was just Marisiel brought low, but Titania and Istomilo were living in the past. The princess was, apparently, not.

"You can call me Mar. It's not much of a name, but... it's mine, I guess."

She glanced sidelong at the princess. "What about you? Wulfric calls you Jacqueline, but your parents..." Didn't.

[Lonna]

The Pyria Cycle

Jacqueline smiled slightly, steadying the winged girl as she stumbled to her feet at the mention of Wulfric. How does he do that? Connect with lost little girls like us? she wondered.

"You can call me Mar. It's not much of a name, but... it's mine, I guess."

She glanced sidelong at the princess. "What about you? Wulfric calls you Jacqueline, but your parents..."

"Queen Titania," emphasized Jacqueline slightly, briskly starting out in the direction she had sensed Wulfric, "thinks of me as the coddled child she raised in Phaedra. And she has surrounded herself with this frozen reminder of her glory days ever since. But I have lived dozens of lives in that time. So here and now, you are Mar, and I am Jacqueline, no matter what anyone calls us."

[OverWilliam]

~Tamerlane

Nihlus' words stung the way only truth can.

"Boy, you need to stop thinking like a thief, and start thinking like a god!"

What does that even mean? Tamerlane wondered.

"I’ll see you in the Hells!"

Tamerlane spat a positively obscene string of explicatives and dodged backward into the ring. The room around him exploded with promises of a hundred different flavors of death. This is impossible! He cursed again, the syllables exquisitely formed by his new fiendish teeth, as though they were purposefully designed to replicate every offensive curve and jagged edge of every cuss word in existence. Is this possible?

Time seemed to slow.

Tamerlane remembered this feeling of standing on nothing. There was no up or down-- space was meaningless wherever this place was. He almost expected it when the other appeared-- if he had ever not been there at all.

Who are you?

You are.

Damn you, not this again. I don't have time to go crazy right now.

The other smirked. No, you misunderstand. I am literally you.

...What?

You just split the veil of time to glance into your own future. Is it so hard to believe that you would never consider looking in the other direction?

Wait-- that's what this is? ...And what that was?

That's what this is. And trust me, it is not easy.

Ok... ok. That... actually makes sense. Then that explains... Ah.

Yes.

Ok... then there must be a reason you-- that I in the future... would choose to contact me now.

There is.

What is it?

Well, for starters, I remember being when you are and seeing me now.

...Really?

Yes, really. But more importantly, you need to hear something that makes it possible for you become what I am now.

...Ok, so you're here to help me. Of course you are, you're me. What do I need to hear?

What Nihlus just told you? It's the Truth.

...That's worth splitting open the veil of time in order to tell your past self?

The fact that you don't realize how important it is proves that you clearly don't understand what he was saying. That's why I'm here.

Tamerlane paused. Again, that made sense.

Ok. I'm listening.

The other nodded. For your whole life, up until a few weeks before you died, you were, and still are, playing with magical ability that you did not understand. I know now, and some day you will too, just how impressive it is that you could puzzle out how to use it at all. You had no teachers, no education. That is not a simple task. But your lack of instruction has caused you to lack imagination. You don't know the power of your own ability.

...What are you saying?

I'm saying that for most of your life you've been playing with, for purposes of analogy, a glass of water. It's impressive what you've learned to do with so little, but all things considered you've been fairly pathetic.

Thanks.

There's no benefit in dressing it up. See yourself for what you are.

...Fine. You said 'were', past tense. Has something changed?

...More than you know.

What does that mean?

For all your life, except for the last week or two of it, your soul had a Limiter placed on it.

...What? How is that...

I am still not completely sure who, or how, could do something like that. It only gets scarier the more you try to learn about it. Trust me.

Again, you said 'had.'

When you were escaping from the hells, you drew on your magical ability more than you ever had before.

Tamerlane remembered the lightning javelin that had disintegrated an entire stone staircase and everyone who'd been on it. Um... Yeah, I guess so.

You cracked the seal without even knowing it. Right before your death...

He remembered his final moments alive, the feeling of that much magic flowing through him as naturally as blood flowing through his veins.

...You weakened it so badly that it only lasted a few more minutes. Your death destroyed the seal entirely. The backlash of that reaction caused your advancement as a Fiend before your time. Videle was not wrong in her interest in you. Appearing in the hells already progressed to your level is extremely rare.

Tamerlane paused to let that sink in. Ok... so if I was playing in a glass of water then...

...A more appropriate comparison now would be... The Sky.

Tamerlane blinked. ...What?

Think of the worst rainstorm you've ever lived through.

Tamerlane blinked again.

Can you even imagine how much water is contained within a torrential downpour?

...No.

And there is something else that the Sky holds...

...Lightning.

You have more power now than you have the imagination to use.

"Stop thinking like a thief..."

Nihlus has a bit of a dramatic streak-- you are not a god. Far from it. But the emphasis of his statement stands.

What do you mean imagination?

We are out of time. Stop holding yourself back. Stop simply playing the games that are presented to you. If you care about something-- someone, then ACT. You'll hear from me again when it is important enough to justify the cost. If you ever get in trouble and don't hear from yourself, then assume you'll make it through somehow on your own.

Tamerlane nodded.

Well... Um... Ok. Thanks? I guess.

The other chuckled. I remember what you're thinking right now. Run with it.



A jet of flames just over Tamerlane's head pulled him back to the present. Almost oblivious to the blades and threats around him, Tamerlane looked down at his hands in contemplative silence. Ok. Let's try something... big.

He thought back to the dark forest surrounding the Screaming Dark Estate and the first time he'd ever discovered that he could speed up his movements using magic. The problem: Everything around me is moving too fast and changing too quickly to keep up with. He started reaching within, where his source of magic came from... and started digging deep. The solution: Move faster than the traps. Move faster than anything I've ever seen before. Tamerlane thought momentarily of Nihlus' use of absolutely impossible speed. ...Than I've ever seen. He admitted. Tamerlane felt himself reach what he would've thought his limit was... and the magic kept growing. He started to power it through the speed enchantment he'd improvised before, but found that it was too feeble to hold so much energy. He began piecing a new one together from scratch, concentrating through the distractions of the chamber around him. He didn't notice the blur and glow of magic becoming visible around him as he wove together the speed. From here... He looked forward toward his target. ...to there... Faster than an arrow. As fast as thinking.

The bowstring of the spell was drawn back in his mind. Tamerlane took a breath and let it fly.

The world around him froze.

It's working.

Tamerlane took a step forward and discovered, with no small amount of shock, that a single step took him halfway across the distance. The second step brought him to the pedestal holding the black metal cube, and he placed a hand on it.

Time snapped back into place with the vengeful fury of a beast slapped in the face. Tamerlane jumped in surprise when a loud sound exploded behind him and a shockwave of air and wasted excess magical energy rushed past him to blast into the far wall. That... probably needs some practice, then. Tamerlane turned and discovered, with some surprise, that he'd left a blackened streak all the way across the adamantite floor. Most of the traps in the room had been at least partially destroyed by the force of his speed-- blades were shattered, magic incantations fouled, and plates and tripwires of every kind damaged or broken completely. On the other hand... I can think of some ways being able to do that might be helpful.

Tamerlane tried to lift the black box from the pedestal. "Ok, Nihlus, I've got it. What now?" His voice was fierce and challenging. What he didn't know was that the shockwave had taken an effect on him as well-- a good deal more of his human skin had flaked and fallen away from the fiendish visage beneath.

[Dorizzit]

Korram Alstan

Korram becomes very serious as he listens to Calcifer's offer with no small amount of surprise. He had not expected the elemental to be interested in helping beyond the warning. Clearly, things were in very dire straights. As the connection fades, he barely has time to respond before the dream ends.

"I understand. Thank you, Calcifer."

* * *

Waking up in the morning, Korram examines the dream very carefully, but it is far more clear than the other memories of his concern-addled dreams. If the information provided proves to be correct, which it doubtless would, it must have been a real communication. Korram is not precisely reassured by this.

Korram slowly grows more adept at griffon flight over the next few days of travel, to the point that he is able to properly control the griffon he is riding on when he is approached by Luxien's guardians. He considers his next words carefully.

"I need to speak with Ander Windrivver! He'll know who I am!"

He shouts to make himself heard above the wind.

[Inspectre]

The Heavens

Baerdog7 & Kasanip

At orders from both Ander and Lukina to rally the einherjar, Redeemer nodded once and then leapt into the air. As he ascended into the bright sky, he looked back to shout.

“I shall return with the full might of reborn humanity! Keep the fiends at bay for as long as you can!”

Ready for battle, Ander and Lukina charged forward into the midst of the destruction, as another beautifully sculpted marble building crumbled and fell. When they arrived at the scene of the disturbance, however, they found no army waiting for them. There was not even a gaggle of poorly-equipped humans, as had been used in the last attack. Instead, the Hells had apparently decided to unleash their latest horror under Mammon’s direction.

Waiting for Ander and Lukina are a trio of squat carriages made out of the black metal of Ironheart. Two are only a bit larger than a normal carriage, their roofs equipped with what appears to be miniature catapults – as the two heroes watch one of them launched a wooden barrel at a nearby building. The barrel misses the window that it had been aimed at, bouncing off of a nearby section of wall before it explodes in mid-air, sending a hail of shattered marble tumbling down to the ground. The third “carriage” is considerably larger and more formidable-looking, and appears to be equipped with one of the energy cannons that had been aboard the Gastly Truth. From within this vehicle Mammon’s voice echoes.

“Ah, Ander! How nice to see you again! I would crush you beneath this marvelous creation of Daz’kick, but I have a city to destroy! Forward! I wish to piss on the very gates of the Palace of the Sun!”

The massive, armored carriage began to rumble forward, angling to go down a side street that would empty out into a plaza that held a path that would run straight to the Palace of the Sun. Meanwhile, the fiends in the other two protective metal cocoons that the Ironheart carriages provided remained focused on pounding the nearby buildings into chunks of rubble. But, despite his taunt that he had no interest in dealing with Ander at present, the cannon mounted on the roof of Mammon’s carriage began to swivel around to point at the Lord General, its tip beginning to glow as it built up a charge of energy to fire.

(I had initially considered humans serving as suicide bombers for this attack, but decided that really wasn’t Mammon’s style – sending in a tank battalion to flatten the place definitely is, though. )

The Hells

The Mire of Desolation

Archpaladin Zousha

Katrina, as usual, was the one least in favor of your command. Even so, after shooting the filthy musician one final glare, she reached up and pushed the mud back into her ears. Volesin and Lenora, lacking that advantage, had to reach up and use their fingers instead. The strange girl was only too happy to resume playing once you allowed her to continue.

Theme Song - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=inb8MMZ-QmA

As she began put the violin up to her shoulder and began playing, the girl went into almost a trance, her world narrowing down until only the music remained. By degrees, she began to relax as the mournful notes floated out into the swamp once more.

“Thank . . . you . . . “

She croaked out at last, looking back up at you with bloodshot eyes as her fingers continued to manipulate her instrument.

“But . . . it’s not . . . not my m-music . . . you should be . . . afraid . . . of. This place . . . my home . . . you will never see . . . see your own home . . . again.”

And then with sudden insight, the girl tilts her head at an angle bordering on the supernatural as she looks at you with greater understanding.

“You don’t . . . know . . . where your home . . . is . . . do you? How . . . sad.”

The girl’s focus returns to her instrument for several long moments, and then she speaks again.

“My name . . . is . . . Shazara. I would . . . ask . . . what’s yours . . . but you forgot . . . that too . . . didn’t you? How . . . very sad. But . . . maybe it’s better . . . to forget . . .”

The Black General’s Citadel

Iethloc/Pwenet


The Mortal Realm

The Box

OverWilliam

As your future self fades away from the present, he adds one final comment.

Oh, by the way . . . say hello to “Nihilus” for me.

Summoning your power, you do not so much speed up as the room itself comes to a virtual stand-still. From your perspective, the walk across the room was just a leisurely stroll. As the magic explosively fades away from you, you can see that it was much different from the room’s perspective, now partially destroyed. From his position, Nihilus gives a slow clap as he walks through the path you had blazed, effortlessly weaving his way through any traps that are still vaguely functional.

“Not bad, boy, not bad at all. Although you could use a bit more . . . finesse. Still, you seem to have grasped the basics. With any luck, you will develop a more refined sense of how to use your abilities with time and practice. But for now, it’s time for you to learn that in order to soar, you have to leave the nest first. So to that end, let’s proceed to your final lesson. You’ve already learned how to affect others, how to affect yourself, and how to affect time with your abilities. Now you need to learn how to affect the world.”

Nihilus taps a gloved finger against the side of the box.

“Now this. This box is made out of the same metal that Ironheart is crafted from – I just happened to borrow a piece of it to make this. Now this metal is unique in its ability to be extremely resistant to magic, including the suppression of scrying and teleportation effects. But! It is still not quite able to block interplanar travel – hence how the fiends were able to get inside the fortress during your escape. Now, you could probably simply stop time again, thus giving you long enough to disable all of the locks holding this box shut. On the other hand, giving your display just now, that may have rather destructive consequences. Instead, you could simply open a portal to the interior, and reach through . . . . like this.”

Nihilus shoves his hand through the side of the box, the flesh penetrating through the Ironheart metal as easily as if it were water. Given that he wasn’t crying out in pain, you can only assume that his fingers were intact on the other side of the metal. The effect was very similar to how he severed your bonds with virtually no effort. After a moment he removed his hand.

“Your imagination is virtually the only limit with this ability’s uses. You can use it to bypass obstacles, travel . . . even for offense. You’ve already used it at least twice without knowing it. Once when you escaped from the Hells by ripping open a portal to the mortal realm. And once when rescuing Melcara, and you pulled her out of her coffin. All you have to do is visualize where you want to go, and focus on linking that spot with where you are now. So focus.”

Nihilus holds up the box, and then looks around the room with his glowing, reptilian eyes.

“You might want to hurry though. I do believe that ticking sound is getting louder.”

Luxien, The Cathedral City

Dorizzit

As you shout at the assembled group, the leader looks at his companions and then nods.

“Very well, traveler! But you will need to tell us your name if you expect the Speaker to recognize you! If you accompany us, we will escort you to a place where you and your mount can wait to hear from him!”

The squadron of griffons wheels about to surround you, keeping a respectful distance but making it clear that you would be following them to where they wished you to go. As you are flying over the city, you cross over the district of the city that they had converted into a tent city for the steady stream of refugees coming to Luxien. The paladins escorting you come to a sudden halt as a wall of magical fire suddenly appears in the tent city below, racing around to form a circle in one specific part of it. Small figures move about in a panic, racing to get away from these sudden flames and adding to the confusion.

“We must go to investigate this! Stay here!”

The paladin shouts at you, and then directs his squadron to form up and descend towards the commotion. Within the large fire circle, you can just barely make out three figures, facing off with each other. One tall man floating off the ground, and another man (Vegna) standing beside . . . an ogre? The paladins attempt to break out of the growing confrontation before an actual battle starts by peppering the area with javelins. The leader shouts an order to stand down at the three, and the lone levitating man responds by shooting a bolt of lightning at the griffons. The paladins scatter without any injuries and immediately counterattack with a rotating barrage of javelins, but their weapons seem to have little effect on what is undoubtedly some sort of jackass mage showing off. Clearly you would need to show them how it’s done.

Vegna

As Elise runs off and you turn the ground around Terra into a muddy quadmire, he gives you a disappointed look as if you were some sort of puppy that had just peed on the carpet.

“Too bad.”

Terra sighs, as he makes a gesture that you don’t recognize, and then levitates up out of the mud! The overgrown earth elemental chuckles at you and Val’Tosh as the ogre stares in open-mouth shock.

“I didn’t lie to you about the tournament, Mal. The losers, those whose skills are clearly inferior, are allowed to go on their way. The winners, however, don’t get their greatest wish granted . . . instead, I absorb their memories, giving me all of their abilities! If I can’t have the Ultimate Technique, then I shall have to make do with every other discipline in the world! . . . You really should have accepted my offer.”

Terra concludes as he floats forward towards you. As he reaches the edge of the muck, he gestures, sending out a line of fire that erupts into a six-foot high wall of flame. The wall stretches out around you, streaking out to cut off Elise as well before beginning to circle around to trap you all. But that display of power in a way is even better to alert the guards, as refugees scatter in all directions screaming, and shouts of alarm come from the nearest guard post. All you had to do was survive until the paladins could get here.

Confident that the wall would cut off any hope of escape, Terra walks slowly towards you and Val’Tosh, clearly savoring the moment. Scooping out a giant clump of earth, Val’Tosh rapidly shapes it into a long spike and hurls it at Terra like a javelin. As soon as the makeshift weapon touches Terra’s skin, however, it softens into watery mud, sliding down his body until it is absorbed directly into it. Terra shakes his head as he continues to advance.

“I possess an understanding of Terra-style equal to your master, and a dozen disciplines on top of that besides. This can only end one way.”

Before Terra can back that threat up, however, a hail of javelins thuds into the ground all around him. Looking up, you see a squadron of griffons and their paladin riders glaring down at the three of you.

“All of you! Stand down immediately! If you do not comply, we will use whatever force is necessary!”

The leader of the griffon riders calls, prompting Terra to snarl as he lifts his arms as if cradling a bow. He points at the lead griffon and snarls “Meddlesome inscets!”, before a bolt of lightning launches itself up at the griffons. The leader manages to swing his mount away just in time, and the squadron breaks formation and scatters, beginning to circle over the refugee camp and throwing down javelins whenever they get the chance. Abandoning his human personae, Terra’s skin hardens into rock, deflecting or shattering any javelins that comes near him with an angry growl.

“Time to get out of here, Mal!?”

Val’Tosh askes as he scoops up another clump of mud and deftly begins to shape it into a long plank – a tool to stamp out part of the fire wall?

Phaedra
The_Snark/Lonna

Reaching out her senses, Jacqueline can detect Wulfric – he feels far away, but given the magical nature of Phaedra she senses that it will not be far to go. Trusting her senses to guide the two of you, you set out to find Wulfric while Jacqueline focuses on the conversation with Mar. As the two of you exit Titania’s frozen throne room, you find someone waiting there for you. Fortunately, it is not Istomilo, but a young woman covered in shadows that twist and dance across her skin like living tattoos. It is not Alya – which suggests that she did not survive Trent’s ambush – but the resemblance is uncanny. The woman grimaces as if in pain as the shadows quiver energetically, and then she bows.

“Greetings, princess. I am Ruya Perist, and I have been assigned by Queen Titania to serve as your handmaiden. Is there anything that you require at this time?”

The Past Age

WhiteKnight777

Theme Song - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fHXeoC9m4U

As you throw the vial to Nihilus, it disintegrates in mid-air, forcing him to jump back or risk being splashed by whatever liquid Marialta was using to corrupt the Elixir. Wisely, Nihilus decided not to risk it, and the time he spent dancing back out of the way was all the time that you needed. Drawing the dagger, you slice open your hand, and plunge it into the Elixir. Raw arcane power surged up through your arm, blasting your pitifully-inadequate body apart. But your will was enough to harness that power, and use it to propel your soul forward, back down the river of time. Just before your consciousness left this place and your body flash-burned away into dust, you said your final good-byes to Marialta. You didn’t say good-bye to Nihilus, because it was patently obvious that you would meet the Writer again.

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

While the journey back into the past had been like being sucked into a whirlpool, and then drowned within it, this time it was more akin to being swept down through a set of river rapids. There were flashes of color and light, scenes from the past playing out all around you as you sailed towards the future – your present – and tried not to be torn apart on the rocks. And there were many of them, oh yes, and little eddies besides that threatened to pull you away down a side stream where you did not wish to go. Only your will, concentrated on that ideal future, allowed you to tumble your way in the right direction.

But then Fate cheated, as it always did. You could feel it coming before it arrived, a shockwave of little changes, small alterations to the timeline spawned from one single, innocent act. Off to your right, you could almost see the precipitating event, a jumble of flashes and sounds. But it is enough to get the gist – Fianna found your letter.

And off to your left, the consequences of that single action played out. Fianna came across Zariel preparing to deliver the killing blow on Gilgaem, not brought low by the army of god-bothers stretched out on the ground all around him, but by the dagger of betrayal. Rather than simply walk on, as she must have done originally in her emotionless fugue, Fianna intervenes and drives Zariel off. And then together the two of them race through the city, collecting the rest of the Lords of Blood with a few notable exceptions – Zariel predictably, but also Marialta . . . and you. And then you are past the outcome of your action, swept down a path that constructs itself from that divergent point, each action in turn spawning a different outcome, on and on in a twisted web of potential.

The current of time picks up at this point, sweeping you along too fast for you to make out any of the changes beyond a gut-wrenching swirl of light. But as you go further, you can feel something fighting back against the course of history – the Writer, trying to keep things going along similar paths despite the differences. His interference, perhaps, is the only thing that allows you to actually return to “your” time, else the world would have mutated into something unrecognizable and foreign to you, leaving your soul lost and trapped in time itself until it was battered apart into slivers of essence. As it is, you are suddenly and violently thrown up upon the shores of your own time, the chaotic confusion of history gradually fading back into sensation that your mind could interpret. Not that there was much to interpret.

It seemed that what was left of your tattered soul had made it back to the “present”, although sans a body you were little more than a wandering spirit. In many ways, this sort of end was the most Hellish form of existence you could have imagined ending up in. You could see, but the world around you was nothing more than a washed-out grey, hazy and indistinct. There was no sound to break the oppressive silence, not even as you stomped experimentally on the ground. This lack of sensation, of physical contact, would certainly explain why most ghosts tended to be mad.

Your day was only bound to get even better as a figure came into view, walking confidentially up over a nearby sand dune. Although you sense that beneath the surface changes have occurred, in outward appearance your old friend hasn’t aged a day. Coming to a stop roughly in front of you, Nihilus waves and clearly speaks once, and then a second time, before realizing that you can’t hear him. With a sigh of annoyance, he drops down to one knee and scrawls a message into the sand.

Hello Umber. Did you really think that escaping the Writer of History would be that easy? But I’m not mad, just annoyed that you and Marialta’s antics tripled my workload over the passing years. So thanks for that. “Your” body is over there – why don’t you go possess it or something so we can talk?

Raising a finger, Nihilus points, and following the line you find your body sticking halfway out of a sand dune. Although it looks different than how you left it . . . you seem to be roughly back at the same time as you left. But although your body doesn’t seem to have suffered from much in the way of decay, it seems to have sustained some damage. Rather than Marialta’s small but deep stab wounds, your body seems like it’s almost been torn in half, skewered from behind. Something was definitely very off here.

The Mortal Realm

The City of Amaranth

TechnOkami/daelrog

Although at first Amelia tenses as Rosenberg cautions against her participation, her expression softens as the druid’s words plainly get through to her. Doubt flickers on her face, and for those experienced in seeing it, fear dances in her eyes. For some around the table, the sight might actually be reassuring, the Countess revealed as just another desperate human, rather than a madwoman overcome with newfound power and bloodlust. Then Alons speaks, and the moment is broken as Amelia’s face hardens again. Anger burns in her eyes now, and for several long moments she simply sits there, silently fuming and unquestionably building herself up for quite possibly a literal firestorm of outrage. But then her expression shifts again, and perhaps something even more disturbing than an outburst happens – Amelia throws her head back and laughs. It is a pleasant, mirth-filled sort of laughter, though tinged with a maniacal undercurrent that prompts Ashley to shift back in her seat away from the Countess and Ross to tense. Thankfully, the outburst of laughter is short-lived, although Amelia’s voice still carries a bit of amusement as she answers.

“I can’t say I have.”

Amelia replies, chuckling as she adds, “But the night of my wedding, when my husband was lying beaten into unconsciousness at my feet, I caressed his cheek until he woke up. And then once I was sure he was awake enough to understand what was happening, I slit his throat from ear to ear. Stabbed him too . . . oh, ten, twenty times? I lost count as I screamed my good-byes into his face. Does that count?”

This revelation caused Ashley to actually jump back out of her chair, her hand fumbling for the hilt of her sword until she remembered that she was standing in polite company. So she merely rested that hand on her belt as she stammered at the Countess.

“Countess, are you . . . d-did you just confess to m-murdering your husband!? In cold blood!?”

Amelia shrugs as she returns to her dinner, picking at her salad with a fork and not looking up as she answers.

“Why yes, I believe I just did. Though really, I prefer to think of it less as murder and more as putting down a rabid dog. You would be thanking me if I did that, right – making sure that a dangerous animal would no longer be a threat to anyone?”

“Aye . . . that he was.”

Ross said in reference to her late husband, a bit more respect in his tone now. Ashley, however, seems only more horrified at Amelia’s justification.

“But he wasn’t an animal, he was a human being, with purpose and rights! You can’t just kill someone in cold blood like that – it’s a crime! And one that not even you as a noble are above, Countess!”

“Kill in cold blood – much as we’re just now discussing doing to the elves?”

Ross asks, his cold words putting a harsh damper on Ashley’s righteous indignation. But still the young paladin shakes her head, looking around the table for support.

“That is war, and loathe as I am to contemplate it myself, I can see the necessity of it. But this, this is –“

“Murder, yes. I believe you said as much a few moments ago.”

Amelia finished, setting aside her fork with a sigh and folding her hands in front of her.

“Look, I could explain to you how it was self-defense. I could explain to you how at the time, I was just a weak, terrified young woman who took her one and only chance to be free of a man who truly was inhuman. I could even explain to you the monstrous things he would do with a girl like you, in intimate detail . . . he certainly described his plans for me after the wedding often enough! But the fact is all of that is irrelevant now. I am here to save the people of Amaranth, same as you, and if we do not work together we will surely fail. Given the odds that we are facing, we may well fail even if everything goes perfectly. If we succeed, however, then we can return to the discussion of punishing me for my “crime” if you insist.”

“Because trying to bring the savior of Amaranth with an army of fire elementals at her beck and call to justice is certain to go over well with everyone.”

Ashley observed sullenly, to which Amelia spread her hands and shrugged.

“Well, there would be that, yes. But the fact that we need each other – for the moment – is inescapable. And surely this would not be the first time that a paladin has accepted help from someone whose hands are not as clean to prevent a far worse disaster?”

After a moment’s thought, Ashley’s shoulders slump and she nods in agreement, moving to once again take her seat. Amelia smiles and continues, her tone reconciliary instead of challenging for once.

“Now. I have been swayed by Rosenberg’s and Alons’ arguments that it may not be in our best interests to reveal all of our minor advantages to the elves in the opening skirmishes of this battle. I will stay behind and attempt to coordinate our defenses between the people of Amaranth, the paladins, and the druids. Assuming that your people will not talk only to you Rosenberg, I agree that your knowledge of the woods would be invaluable to this attack. I’m not sure if Ross would listen if I told him to stay, so he will go as well. Alons . . . is staying here. His insights into where this city’s defenses are weak are too valuable to risk.”

Amelia shoots a brief glance at Alons, doubtless to see how the foreign warrior would react, but her tone made it clear that her mind on this particular matter was made up.

“Now then, I believe everyone has an understanding of what is expected of them. Is there anything else that we need to discuss this evening?”

(Incidentally while I’m expecting GuyFawkes to crash the party here, after that I suspect we’ll be getting back to the “everybody fighting for their lives” in relatively short order. )

GuyFawkes

At your casual refusal to take her life, Aurewlynn sheathed the dagger and fell into step behind you. She equally does not hesitate to take your offered hand.

“I swore a blood oath. That outweighs all other concerns. I will follow you into battle, even against my own people. Even if that were not so . . . I am not sure what I would do, but I would like to think that I would stand on the right side . . . beside you. Though my father did not heed your warnings, I believe that what you say is true. If would have been better if my people remained in our homeland, far away from the humans’ damned fortress!”

Aurewlynn winces a moment later as she remembers that she is talking to a human. Then the time for conversation is over as you take off into the air, dragging Aurewlynn up by the hand. You make good time, but night has nonetheless fallen by the time you get back to Amaranth. In a way, this is actually beneficial, as it masks your arrival into the city and preventing anyone from stopping you to ask time-consuming questions. Aurewlynn pulls her hood up at your request, lingering back in the shadows by instinct as you move forward to hail the paladin guards. One of them thankfully recognizes you.

“Ah yes, I remember you. The knight-lieutenant and Sir Ross are currently out. Um, I believe they are having dinner at the mayor’s residence?”

The guard turns to his companion who can only shrug hopelessly. But then the man snaps his fingers and nods.

“Yes, that’s right! Some noblewoman came into the city today! She showed up with an entire caravan’s worth of supplies, however, so the knight-lieutenant felt compelled to have a meeting over dinner with her to discuss the city’s defenses! Damn noble probably is here to see what all the fuss is about – I wouldn’t be surprised if she is disappointed that we didn’t hold a parade in her honor!”

The paladin you originally addressed glances disapprovingly at his fellow’s grumbling, but then looks back at you.

“While I would caution you against interrupting this dinner, I can only assume that whatever you have to speak with the knight-lieutenant about is important. I believe that this dinner with the noblewoman is being held at the mayor’s residence. We cannot accompany you, but if you need a guide to show you the way I’m sure I can find someone to escort you.”

[Dorizzit]

Korram Alstan

Calcifer called to help me out...these guards are being polite and helpful...crap. This isn't going to end well.

At the prompting for his name, Korram stays silent for a few seconds.

"I'll tell you when we get there!"

Thankfully, the guard accepts Korram's answer and the flight into Luxien begins. Almost immediately, however, it is interrupted by the disruption from the mage engaging in the flashy display far below. Korram looks impassively as the guard commands him to remain stationary, then watches from his position in the air as the soldiers ineffectively attempt to apprehend the elementalist.

Flying...that's wind...wall of fire...that's obvious...lightning...is that a subcategory of air, or fire? Maybe both...?

Korram shakes his head.

Whatever. They're going to need my help.

Kicking his griffon into a dive, Korram pushes up and plants both of his feet on the saddle, waiting for the right moment. When he gets close enough, Korram jumps off of the griffon and twists in the air, turning his fall into a dive kick aimed at the back of the mage's head.

[daelrog]

Alons laughed when Amelia described murdering her husband, it seemed a pleasant surprise to the man. He had actually guessed she had never killed someone in cold blood yet, and whereas Ashley was more worried by it, Alons was actually relieved.

To anyone who was particularly keen eyed, they would have noticed Alons kept his eyes on Ashley until she had relented, to the keener observer he had the eyes of a man ready to kill. In fact, his hand had been resting on throwing knife as soon as she had stood up, hand on hilt.

Paladins. They had none in Fairlyle, and though he had been told of their virtue and purity, they were but stories to him, they were not rooted in his upbringing. If she had walked threateningly towards his Amelia, he would have aimed for her sword arm. If she had run, he would have aimed between the eyes.

When Amelia glanced at Alons to see if he would react, he only titled his head and showed an expression that he would trust her judgment on that point. Alons felt more than up to the task of fighting such a battle in the woods, it was what he was born and raised to do, whereas this city needed a miracle to help its defenses more than advice. Give him two years and two hundred men and he could see Amaranth become an acceptable fortress, not great, but acceptable. Still, he would not turn down staying in the city with Amelia, despite the growing hunger and smell of fear, than fighting a bitter struggle against these Elves. Just because he could kill in cold blood didn't mean he ran off to it every chance he could when he could be walking around with a beautiful woman.

Alons didn't have anything left to say himself, at least not in the present company, and so he remained silent.

[TechnOkami]

"Please, the Druids are not that ignorant." In response to the notion that they wouldn't talk to others outside of their own.

"Others just assume so. When they do arrive though, either they or myself can help strengthen the weaker sections of the city that need it, whether it be growing trees with the strength of iron, wrapping the outer walls with long needled thorns, or anything else we might think of."

Rosenberg had nothing else to say, simply thinking of the best way for him to send a message to his allies as to their progress.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Nobody

He ponders what Shazara says.

Why do you say it would be better to forget, Shazara? Yes, you no longer recall the bad things you did or the bad things that happened to you...but you also forget the good things too. Life may have pain, yes, but it's also got joy. I don't care if I found out I was a murderer and a liar before, because I'd also remember the comfort of home, or running in the sun..."

[The_Snark]

Mar

Queen. Mar quieted at the implied rebuke. Titania was the queen here, and her daughter—Jacqueline—a princess, and if Mar was really going to be a servant here she had better start remembering it. She didn't want to rouse the queen's ire for such a foolish thing as calling her by name. Nor Jacqueline's, even if she didn't think the princess would do worse than withdraw her protection.

It hurt, though, to be reminded of it. She didn't hate Titania, not really, but bowing and groveling felt like the coward's way out.

Mar lowered her eyes as the fey woman introduced herself. She was going to have to get used to that if she was going to stay here. Out of habit she invoked a silent prayer - gods have mercy - but of course it wasn't the gods she had to worry about. They couldn't help her.

[GuyFawkes]

Noctis/Lucifuge

"Yes, I must speak to them about pressing matters. If you could provide a guide as soon as possible, much appreciated." Noctis replied, not revealing anything to the two. When the guide was found, he motioned for Aurewlynn to follow him closely, said his thanks to the two guards and let the guide lead the way, urging him (or her) to make haste.

Upon arrival at the mayor's residence, Noctis immediately heard the raised voices coming from the garden, noting that indeed the voices of the Knight-Lieutenant's and Ross' were among them, and so he headed towards the gate, Aurewlynn in tow, and made his way towards the group.

"Ladies, gentlemen, I would greet you a pleasant evening, if not for the terrible tidings I bring," he began as he was still walking. Then, stopping a few feet from the table, he looked towards the direction of Ashley and Ross.

"Knight-Lieutenant, Mr. Ross, I am afraid we do not have much time. I have made contact with the elves, just as you suspected, at the Ruins of Callaway. I have seen their numbers; thousands, accompanied by hundreds of fire elementals. And worse, they are ready to march towards this city on the morrow ."

[Lonna]

The Pyria Cycle

Jacqueline stopped short when she saw the person waiting outside the throne room. Damn. I had hoped I'd have a little while before Titania thought to send a spy.

The woman grimaces as if in pain as the shadows quiver energetically, and then she bows.

“Greetings, princess. I am Ruya Perist, and I have been assigned by Queen Titania to serve as your handmaiden. Is there anything that you require at this time?”

Jacqueline started to shake her head, vaguely repulsed by the moving shadows, then paused and tilted it to one side instead, considering. "As a matter of fact, yes. I am going to find the man who accompanied me into Phaedra. I wish to have food prepared and brought to us - hot, if possible. Bring enough for several people - Wulfric has a large appetite."

As Ruya turned to go, Jacqueline called after her. "My condolences, for the loss of your sister." It was a guess, but probably a safe one. The two women looked too similar not to be related, and too close in age to be parent and child. With a little luck, the reminder would buy them a little more time.

"Ok, time to go," said Jacqueline as soon as Ruya was safely out of earshot. Immediately her flaming tresses began to brighten, shifting from their normal yellow-orange glow to a white heat. "Stay close to me, Mar. I am going to get Wulfric, even if I have to melt every wall between us myself."

[Vegna]

Mal Harath

As the flames surrounded them, Mal stifles a cough from the sudden rush of burnt air entering his lungs, hacking into his hand as Val'Tosh flings his projectile at their enemy, sharing the mounting fear as it fails to hurt Terra. He backs away slowly beside his friend, as the heat grows behind them.

"Elise! Did you make it!?"

He calls towards the fire, hoping she had fled beyond earshot and the danger by now. As the javelins pepper the ground, Mal jumps another foot back in shock, which quickly turns to relief as looks up towards their griffon mounted throwers.

"The Paladins!"

As Terra scatters their rescuers, Mal pulls Val'Tosh and his plank, with some difficulty, behind a remaining tent within the burning circle. Though they were hidden from Terra's sight, he knew that if Terra tried, their little cover would be swept aside in a moment.

He pressed his hand to the floor, his mind journeying back to the nights he and Elise spent together, teaching each other, training, preparing for this. He muttered to himself, reminding his lessons.

"First the legs, not too thin, it needs a strong base. Then the torso, thick and sturdy. Val'Tosh is another half on all, another half."

From the dirt floor in front of the pair, a duo of earth elementals form, one thick shadow of an ogre, the other considerably shorter and more human. They had no faces nor more than a ball of dirt for hands, the earth uneven and distinctly unliving. Mal turned back to his friend, shaking the ogre from the surprise.

"Val'Tosh, I'll explain later. I'm sending these two in front of us to block the fire with their bodies. If we're lucky, Terra will mistake them for us dying in the flames and be thrown off our trail. If not, we just keep running after Elise."

He gestures for the elementals to move towards the wall of flame, before turning back to look through a gap in the tent to follow how the paladins were faring.

When he gets close enough, Korram jumps off of the griffon and twists in the air, turning his fall into a dive kick aimed at the back of the mage's head.

He can only gasp as from what he can assume, an oddly clothed paladin has fallen towards Terra, the elementl now sporting a stone-hard exterior.

"He's going to crash into him!"

[daelrog]

When the stranger announcement the attack coming, Alons leaned over to whisper into the Countess's ear. "Eat your fill now. There won't be another opportunity, and fatigue does us no good." As if to show his point, or more likely to follow his own advice, Alons began shoveling in his food while the leaders of city reacted, using the minute to get as much food as he could into himself before what would be a long night.

[OverWilliam]

~Tamerlane

Tamerlane stared blankly at Nihlus while he demonstrated the next trick to be added to Tamerlane's repertoire. The whole time he struggled to keep his undefined suspicion off of his features. It had only tangentially occurred to him before, but now Tamerlane was unable to ignore the itchy unease of watching Nihlus perform yet another of what Tamerlane would've thought to be rather unique talents of his own with flippant ease. And there was another thing. ...How does he know a damned thing about how I rescued Melcara?

Tamerlane put the thought on hold for the moment. Time, he could sense, was again of the essence. 'Focus on linking that spot with where I am now.' Ok. Tamerlane directed his attention to his hand, sensing the skin start to prickle from simple hyper-awareness. I know where I am... Trying to maintain that certainty in his mind, Tamerlane started creating a second point of focus inside the black metal box. He wasn't sure where the idea came from, but it felt natural to imagine a tiny floating ball of light at which to direct his attention. Somewhere in the background the sound of ticking made the ball flicker and widen as his focus slipped, but he bore down on it quickly and reasserted control.

Ok... now to reach through. Tamerlane, still holding the certainty of his own position and the point of focus for the destination, summoned up memories from his life before. He thought of prying open the dormant portal that let them escape from the hells. He thought of pulling Melcara through the hells and then back again. He overlapped them until he could feel the common thread that touched them both-- and fed that sensation like a kindling fire until it began to roar in his soul.

Tamerlane started pushing.

He felt the beginnings of the shift enclose his fingertips, and encouraged by the response, tightened down his focus once more. By the time he got as far as his wrist, however, something felt wrong. Shouldn't I have reached through by now? There was nothing for it but to push harder, to push more magical fuel into the reaction that was already humming away within his magical senses. More. Tamerlane pushed harder, both physically and quintessentially. In the room around him, wasted magic spilled out in the form of orange light that brightened until it was more white than orange. Tamerlane didn't notice-- his eyes were closed. It wasn't until he had sunk nearly past his elbow that something started shifting on the other end. It was there, though, that he felt he could push no further. No. More.

With a final blast of effort and invested energy, Tamerlane felt the barrier between worlds crumble like sand. The first thing his fingers came into contact with, he reflexively he grabbed and tried to haul back through the portal (or portals?) that he had created in order to reach it. For a moment, the sudden fear that he might lose an appendage by accidental closing of one (or both) of the portals lent him a surge of renewed energy, and in a final retina-searing waste of excess magic, Tamerlane jerked backwards from the case--

--Prize in hand.

"No... no problem, right? Woah..." He blinked a few times, feeling a bit lightheaded. It was a vaguely pleasant feeling, and harmonized well with the feeling of success.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber sighed, as much as one could sigh without having breath, and drifted over to his flesh. The power that brought him here - the stolen power of the elixir - was fading fast, but he managed just enough to force himself back into his form and knit it back together - enough, at least, to jump-start this carcass back into motion again. Being separated from his body had been a thoroughly disconcerting experience, but Umber wasn't one to pass up a lesson, no matter how old he got. And he'd learned quite a bit about the ways that will and spirit could be used to command the flesh. Even being undead hadn't been as much of an education when it came to all the ways that the mind could triumph over the body.

Umber gestured down at himself, green light flowing out of his fingertips as he felt the old stirrings of his gift deep within him. It felt good - being divorced from his power had been painful, especially without the benefits of being a Lord of Blood to compensate. It felt like he'd regained the use of a missing limb, or regained his full sight after being allowed to see only in shades of grey. But there was no time to enjoy the simple pleasures of his return - he had an angry demigod to deal with. Well, not angry. More tetchy. But still, Nihilus wasn't one to take lightly.

"Oh, don't get pissy with me, mister. You were planning on stabbing me in the back at the first opportunity - either murdering me or leaving me to rot, or else dooming me to some small existence because you believe I can't be trusted with anything of significance." Umber paused, then allowed. "Admittedly, I wouldn't trust me as far as I could throw me, either, but still, it hurts. I meant what I said about admiring your goals, Nihilus. It's just the part where you want to destroy me that I have a problem with. Can't you understand that I - that is, the I that exists in this mind, the iteration of Umber that you see before you - would never free Azguloth? Or allow him to be free? The damn Hierarch tried to use me to unlock the little piece of ****. I'd keep him imprisoned for spite alone. Now, what do you want? I have a lover to rescue, and a retirement to plan, assuming the world isn't about to go to hell. Again. And, if you feel like repaying me for saving us all from Marialta, you could at least fill me in on what's different in this timeline."