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[Archpaladin Zousha]

Nameless

"I don't know how I got here, or what I've done, but I feel like I shouldn't be here at all. I don't remember doing anything wrong, so I have no idea what I'm being punished for by being here. If I'm even being punished at all. From what you're saying it sounds like they just hurt people here for fun."

At the mention of the Baron of Gast, he winces. The word cut through his mind like a knife. SOMETHING told him he should know what that meant, who they were talking about. But when he tried to focus, the thoughts faded away again. No name, no personality, not even an image to connect to the word. Baron.

"Baron? I feel like I've heard that name before, too, but I can't remember where. Who is he?"

...

At the mention of causing as much damage and chaos as possible, he shakes his head.

"We need a plan. Running around with no idea where we're going will only get us recaptured faster. And we can't do it alone. We need to get as many people as we can to help us. There's a strength in many where one would fail."

The words felt natural to him. He wasn't sure why. But it only seemed right for the many to stand up and fight.

When his companions disappear, Nameless raises his weapon and adopts a defensive stance, almost instinctively. A few memories seemed to still be there. Fight, guard, stand strong and be aware. He didn't know much about where he was, but something in his gut told him this was a trick.

[The_Snark]

Mar

A laugh almost escaped Mar. Wulfric thought his life had taken a turn for the strange...? Well, he was here, so probably it had been. Meeting her would almost certainly make it stranger. She didn't even know where to begin. There was so much to explain, and she wasn't sure she understood it all herself.

He wasn't giving her much time to think it over. Mar didn't like being rushed; it made her nervous. Marisiel hadn't much cared for it either.

There was one thing that seemed pressing, though. Jacqueline was not the princess's name, but surely there couldn't be two such women here to reunite with their mothers? "Your Jacqueline," she said. "Fiery hair? Green eyes?" He nodded, and she went on.

"I saw her. You ought to know that her mother is the queen here. Her father... is a sorcerer; he died a long time ago, but found a way to take other people's bodies after they die. He's the one you saw bringing me down here. She was with them last I saw, and they wouldn't like it if you tried to take her away. I don't think... I don't know if she would want to leave." She hadn't gotten a good read on the princess—well, she'd been awfully distracted at the time!—but Pyria hadn't behaved like a woman under coercion. Nobody had dragged her into the throne room.

Wulfric had paused his assault on the bars to listen. This was less of a relief than she'd expected. She didn't want to stay in her cell, after all, she was just afraid of what might happen if she didn't. Being caught trying to escape would doubtless lead to some terrible punishment, but really: they were going to do something horrible to her anyway, if she stayed here and let them. Just because Pyria didn't seem interested in torturing her didn't mean Titania and Istomilo would restrain themselves forever. Frightening, yes, but—she thought it was probably right.

What happened to being sorry? part of her wanted to know, but she told herself firmly that sorry didn't mean she had to let people torture her.

"My story... that's complicated. I'm older than I look. Sort of." She felt a twinge of guilt; he had no idea what he was getting into. She didn't want to take advantage. "Look, I... Are you sure about this? They'll be hunting you if you break me out, twice as hard as if you didn't. Nobody will believe you took me hostage. And I don't think Py - Jacqueline would be happy to see me, even if you got her away from her parents. I don't want to stay here, but..."

Mar clasped her hands in front of her, momentarily possessed of a dignity beyond her apparent years, and looked Wulfric square in the eye. "It'll mean trouble for you. I just thought you ought to know before you decide."

[Dorizzit]

Korram Alstan

Oh joy, she knows about my family. That's going to be awkward.

Korram considers his options for a moment, unsure of the best path to proceed. He should check on his family...but on the other hand, the two most important members of that category would not be there no matter what had happened, and the bulk of the rest would have been out in their personal territories; far from a flawless defense, but it probably made them safer than those in the City. Regardless, he won't be able to provide any concrete assistance.

Moreover, this was an opportunity that might not come again, and could help move Korram's agenda forwards. He tries not to think about the moral implications of using the situation to his advantage, but that isn't the only motivation for him. The attack was extremely concerning even without Korram's other worries; if this really was nothing more than the first in a series, then Heaven would quickly become overwhelmed. If there was something Korram could do to help prevent that, then he should do so.

"I'll go with you. I can't do anything for my family now, and if there's anything I can do to help prevent this from happening again, I want to."

[Inspectre]

The Heavens

Dorizzit

“Alright. Let’s go!”

Miranda says as she picks you up and lifts up into the air once more. She flies to the gates of the Palace of the Sun, located at the heart of the City. Right now, those gates are closed, but it still seems to be a meeting point for the angels as there are already two of them waiting there. One of them turns to face you, and Miranda reacts with shock, nearly dropping you face-first onto the ground.

“Melissan!? What are you doing here!? I, I thought –“

“You thought correctly, sister. I have . . . been away for quite some time. You can thank Ander for my return.”

The angel announced, and for a moment Miranda and Melissan embraced.

“I will be sure to do that then! But first I want you to meet someone, another human who I think can help us. This is Korram – he’s the one who saved our Lady!”

Melissan looks you over critically, and then smiles and extends a hand to you.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Korram.”

The third angel, the one that Melissan had been conversing with before your arrival, gives you only a sullen glance of acknowledgement.

“As I was just informing Melissan, we were just attacked. By humans, looking to steal away souls from their proper rest for their vile masters.”

Miranda bristled, clearly picking up on her sister’s implication in regards to you.

“Don’t associate Korram with that filth, Maya! He is a noble soul, and his sacrifice was the only thing that saved our Lady!”

“We saved our Lady as well, Miranda, or do you forget the final moments of that battle? More than one “hero” has harbored dark thoughts in his heart, and become twisted by them!”

“He helped me, just as he helped our Lady!”

“He’s still human! Why did you get him involved in what is a matter for us!? *We* are this city’s protectors!”

Melissan raises her hands, physically interposing herself between the other two angels before it could become any more heated.

“Considering that it was humans who attacked our city, and it was human souls that they were after, I think that is would be our benefit to have a human’s perspective on this matter. And certainly, from what I understand Korram is a new arrival here, and thus conflict is not a long-forgotten mark on his life. Now then, do you have any insights that you would be able to share about these humans, or why they would be aiding the fiends in this endeavor?”

All three sets of eyes turn towards you.

The Hells

The Dungeons of the Black General’s Fortress

Archpaladin Zousha

Other than a few puffs of mist idly floating past, nothing moves around you. This is not nearly as relieving as it should be, but it does allow you to relax your instinctual guard. Seeing nothing and no one else to interact with, you cautiously advance. The thin banks of fog that surround you rapidly thicken after a few dozen feet away from you, leaving you with little sense of direction or where to go.

There is one thing that does allow you to be able to pick a consistent direction to wade through the ankle-deep turbid water, however. Now and then, through the mists, you are able to hear what sounds like a violin playing a slow, mournful tune. Every now and again you think you even hear a voice singing as well, but the sound is distorted and unintelligible from your current position.

As you move towards what you believe is the source of this soul-rending music, the swamp grows more difficult to traverse, with uneven depths beneath the placid water, and more than one sinkhole that threatens to swallow you unexpectedly. You still see no one, and hear nothing but the haunting melody, and the constant seclusion is beginning to grate on your nerves.

The ground grows more uneven still, as now skeletal trees begin to emerge from the mists here and there, their gnarled roots snaking underwater to trip and grasp at your feet. The melody is slightly louder now, however, its notes more clearly defined and longer stretches of the music reaching your ears. Like a siren’s song, it drags you forward, compelling you to continue. And then, you are rewarded for your efforts . . . after a fashion.

Looming out of the mists ahead of you is what appears to be a stone structure, little more than the crumbled outline of a hut. Its roof has long since rotted away, leaving only the stones behind to gradually sink into the mire. And even more importantly, ever so faintly, you can hear the faint sound of someone crying coming from within the hut.

You advance even more cautiously than before, but you advance nonetheless, right up to the hut, around the side, and peer in through the open-mouth of the stone hut’s doorway. You find a young woman lying within, half-submerged in the dark water, staring up at the obscured sky as tears flow steadily down her face. She is dressed in armor and a uniform of some kind, the tabard emblazoned with a shining sword. Like the tabard, the woman’s face triggers a sense of familiarity in you, and for a moment you find yourself standing somewhere else, a much different song being sung by a dozen voices, led by this same woman.

Spoiler

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The handful of remaining paladins gather around you, most of them wounded, exhausted, and afraid of what was to come. But then one of the paladins threw her head back and began to sing an old hymnal that you had all been taught during your training. One by one, the other paladins joined in, reciting all of the words that had been etched into your minds over countless hours of worship.
The sun shall shine,
Through darkest cloud,
Following blackest night,
Again and again,
To fill the world with the light.

So don’t frown,
And don’t cry,
The Lightbringer smiles
Upon thee, Fear not,
The Sun shall shine.

Sensing but not seeing you, the woman stops crying and inclines her head up to stare at you and the world behind the hut.

“Father? Is that you? I’m so cold here, Father. Why did you leave me?”


The Mortal Realm

The Woods Outside Silverstream

Vegna

“Wait! Mal, don’t!”

Master Vork calls behind you, but his pleas fall on deaf ears as you run towards the bonfire, shouting that here you are, and that you surrender. Your chest burns as you anticipate a series of arrows being fired into it, but none of that is forthcoming. Instead, the elves watch you approach, some of them just barely visible up in the trees, most down on the ground, and almost all of them turning to cover you with bows as you step into the ring of light provided by the bonfire. Near to it stands the apparent commander of this unit, along with a wizened elf that makes strange rhythmic gestures before the bonfire, paying no attention to you. A short distance from them, three humans kneel down in the dirt, an elf for each of them holding a nocked bow right over their hearts.

“Wise decision! TAKE HIM!”

The elf commander calls, as two elves lower their bows and step forward. Reaching you, one of the elves drives the hilt of his sword into your solar plexus, sending you crumpling to the ground. The other pounces on you, savagely binding your arms behind your back with some sort of vine-like rope. The two elves then drag you back up onto your feet and half-carry you over to the bonfire.

Risking a few glances around as you struggle to regain your breath, you can see that other than the three villagers by the bonfire itself, there’s about two dozen more clustered off to one side of the camp, all of them tied to trees. You note that all of them are young – children, teenagers, and a few young adults. It’s a little harder to count the elves as some are up in the trees and some of them are down on the ground hanging back in the shadows, but you’d guess about twice as many elves all told. That’s a lot of elves, and all of them watch you with barely-contained hate as you are led before their commander.

The commander sizes you up for a moment, and then repeats the actions of his men by driving the hilt of his sword into your chest, sending you crumpling to the ground a second time. Grabbing you by the hair, he pulls your head up and then turns to the crowd.

“This is your hero! Your rescuer! And he has failed! No one is coming for you! No one can save you! And if any more try, then they shall share this fool’s fate!”

By your hair, the commander pulls you back up onto your feet and shoves you back into the clutches of the other two elves. From there the two of them drag you over to a nearby spear planted into the ground near the bonfire. For a long moment you fear that they’re going to throw you down onto it as they had to the villagers back at Silverstream. But instead they merely bind you to it with more of those vines of theirs, wrapping coils of it around your torso and binding your legs. When they’re finished, the elves step back, and you quickly realize your fate is going to be far, far worse.

The bonfire . . . moves. Like a great serpent uncoiling, the great fire stands up, shifting into a vaguely humanoid form that towers over you. The wizened elf nods in satisfaction and steps back as the commander points at you.

“Oh great spirit, we have a sacrifice to offer to you! We only ask that you consume him . . . slowly!”

Realizing that you are about to be burned alive by a big fire elemental is not a pleasant discovery to make. Realizing that there is no way you can slip out of your bindings in time to do anything about it but scream for mercy was even worse. Fortunately, you were not a lone hero as the elves thought – and that assumption cost them as suddenly with a loud groan one of the trees at the edge of the clearing collapsed. Floundering in the sudden deep pool of soft mud that surrounded the tree, two of the elves are unable to get away and time and are crushed beneath it. A moment later and a boulder comes flying into the clearing, rolling to a stop a short distance in front of a cluster of elves that had moved forward to watch your death. A moment after it comes to a stop, the boulder explodes, spraying the elves with razor-sharp fragments. And from the far side of the clearing, a small army of earth elementals comes bursting out of the darkness, ignoring the arrows that the elves launch at them.

Pandemonium breaks out throughout the elven camp as the elves scramble to react to this attack. Meanwhile, the fire elemental continues to lumber towards you with single-minded determination, ignoring the chaos around it.

Luxien, The Cathedral City

Kasanip

Dismounting from Welkin’s horse, you rush forward to meet the arachnid Fiend Lord, your sword clutched in both hands. The assembled paladins looked on in shock at the sight of you charging out to meet the demonic spider, and even the two Fiend Lords present seemed surprised. That did not stop Skithiss from trying to impale you with one of his legs, and chitin met steel in a shower of pale blue sparks. The patches of liquid darkness covering the giant spider protected it from contact, leaving it without a scratch, but the darkness quivered and led to this exchange.

“I knew I recognized that hateful light! Extinguish it! EXTINGUISH IT! NOW!”

“Pah! It’sss jussst a human girl! I can ssssmell her flesssh, sssso ssssoft, ssso ssssweet! One bite, and it’sss over!”

(All those extra s’s might make it hard to understand what Skithiss is saying, so here’s the translation: Pah! It’s just a human girl! I can smell her flesh, so soft, so sweet! One bite, and it’s over!”)

So saying, the spider leapt forward, trying to sink one of its eight arrays of fangs into you, only for you to smoothly dance aside, slashing across the beast’s side with minimal effect as the shadows swarm around to block the blow again. And thus begins a rapid dance, with Skithiss attempting to corral you with his legs so that he can deliver a fatal bite while you furiously dodge aside, parry, and counterstrike.

A minute later and the two of you briefly separate, sizing each other up again. To your dismay, you discover that the spider demon’s carapace is intact, not even scratched thanks to the living darkness’s protection. You are likewise unharmed, gods be praised, but the air burns in your lungs, and your muscles quiver uncontrollably with exhaustion. You can’t keep this up much longer, but you had to!

Trying to give your body just a moment to recover, you circle around the creature instead of charging back in, demanding answers from it. Skithiss simply laughs, its fangs rubbing against each other to make the horrid sound.

“You are nothing but meat, little girl! I will drag you down into my web, and you will be nothing but food for the lowessst of my petsss!”

(“You are nothing but meat, little girl! I will drag you down into my web, and you will be nothing but food for the lowest of my pets!”)

The other Fiend Lord is more respectful, its voice tinged with exertion or perhaps even pain.

“Hurry up and kill her, Skithiss! I don’t know how you are recreating Genevieve’s light, girl, but before Skithiss takes your body I will rip the answers from your mind! You will cower in my darkness forever, until you acknowledge Glurdalak, the Seething Darkness as your lord and master!”

At that point, Welkin interjected his own point, which boiled down to a single word.

“FIRE!”

With the two of you now separated, the assembled paladins are able to freely take aim and loose a volley of crossbow bolts at Skithiss. As with your sword blows, the attacks are deflected by the armor of liquid darkness, but the spider lord roars in fury nonetheless. Ignoring you, Skithiss charges towards the assembled line of paladins, just starting to be reinforced by the leading members of Tyberius’s small army. Knowing what you had to do, you throw yourself forward into harm’s way again, moving to interpose yourself. Summoning all of your remaining strength, you bring your sword down on one of the spider’s outstretched legs.

Your sword glows with an intense light, almost blinding in intensity as it comes into contact with the darkness covering Skithiss. And then . . . your sword cuts through the darkness, dispelling it, and burns rather than cuts through Skithiss’s leg. The severed appendage goes spiraling off behind you, and the Fiend Lord stumbles and momentarily crumples to the ground at the unexpected loss of his leg. A moment later and the spider is back up on its remaining seven legs, skittering around to face you as the last of the darkness melts away from its body. Overhead, the darkness begins to give away to daylight as it pulls away and begins to condense down into a much smaller cloud.

“I . . . can’t take that light anymore! You’re on your own, Skithiss!”

Glurdalak wails, and the demonic spider hisses in irritation as it gathers itself up to lunge at you. Its attack is again interrupted by Welkin, as he again shouts ‘Fire!” The chitin plates normally covering Skithiss’s body are still strong, and thus are able to deflect most of the crossbow barrage even without Glurdalak’s aid. But several of the bolts do manage to penetrate, leaving a black ichor to ooze out from the wounds. Skithiss recoils, and then begins to skitter back away from you to take shelter in a nearby alleyway.

“Thisss isssn’t over, little girl! I will feassst on your soul yet! Whether you really are Genevieve or not!”

(This isn’t over, little girl! I will feast on your soul yet! Whether you really are Genevieve or not!)

Then the spider skitters sideways down into a connecting alley, and is gone. Relief and a little disbelief that you had driven off not one, but two Fiend Lords races through you. And with that relief comes a crushing exhaustion. You’re barely even aware of it as your legs give out beneath you, pitching you face first down onto the street in an undignified heap. A moment later and Welkin and Tyberius are both there, helping you sit up and propping you up against a nearby building while the rest of the paladins fan out to begin further securing the city.

“Lukina! Are you alright?” Welkin presses. Tyberius’s question is more thoughtful, but infinitely more difficult to answer.

“Never in all my years have I seen quite such a display. You appear human, and yet I’ve never heard of a human fighting two Fiend Lords at once and surviving, let alone winning! Certainly not with such a sloppy technique . . . what exactly *are* you, child? The two of them seemed to think that ”

Baerdog7

Nihilus is clearly surprised by your sudden shift in behavior. As the Speaker sheaths his sword Nihilus similarly relaxes, shaking his cowled head.

“Proof that not everything is set in stone, and you are not as headstrong as everyone thinks. I will do what I can to convince them all to leave. But be warned Ander – we will be back. This shall see to that.”

Nihilius said, patting the stolen journal once more. The Writer of History turns to leave, but stops as you call out a question. The twenty-first Fiend Lord stands there a moment, but then bends down and traces his finger against the stone floor. Left in the finger’s wake is a scorch mark, the series of such marks that Nihilus quickly creates forming words that Ander cannot quite read from his current angle.

“This is about the end of the world, Speaker. Only this time, instead of taking a hundred years I will ensure that it takes only a hundred days! For too long I have watched and directed from the shadows. Now I shall dance upon Fate’s stage, and I will see to it that the curtains fall swiftly and mercifully. You are welcome to oppose me, but know that even if you kill me this will not stop. Even if you kill every last Fiend Lord this will not stop. The only thing that you can truly do is accept your fate, as I have accepted mine. Go home. Hold your child. Make love to your wife. You have spent so much time away from them, first in the service of revenge, and now in the service of a goddess who continues to lie to you. You have so very little time left to enjoy their company. Do not waste it struggling against the inevitable – as I have.”

His sketch complete, Nihilus stands up and backs away, indicating the scrawled words with a nod of his head.

“If you insist upon continuing this course, then so be it. Consult this writing, and understand that the end has been coming since the beginning. Everything has been foreseen. Nothing can be averted. Oh, and one more thing – if I were you, I would destroy Quietus’s trapped soul as quickly as possible. The other Fiend Lords will insist on trying to rescue him for as long as he continues to exist.”

And then the Writer of History is simply gone, disappeared through the portal that is now starting to close in the span of a single blink of the eye. The writing that he left behind, however, remains and now that the danger in the room is gone Ander is able to shift his position to more easily read it.

The Prophecy of the Certain King

All things must end, even the reign of the gods. Watch then for these signs that will usher in a new era, the reign of the Certain King.

Those created by the gods and of the gods shall be created to exist in Harmony. But the Harmony will be shattered, broken by One who will lead the heirs of the gods to embrace their destiny. Discord and Inequality will follow, leading to Ambition and Desire, and culminating in the rise of the Certain King.

But before the Certain King sits upon the Throne of Athelion in judgment, the world shall cry out as it is split in twain. As their world is divided, so too shall be the gods and their heirs, both Within and Without. Their Balance Destroyed, the Scales of Fate shall settle anew, leading to only two possible outcomes.

What was driven apart shall try to rejoin, with Violence being the only possible outcome. The Scales of Fate will tip, leading one side to Fall, and the other side to Rise. The Shattered One will be thrown down beneath the Throne, there to remain until the coming of the Certain King.

It is from these seeds that the world’s destruction shall spring. All has been foreseen. Nothing can be averted.

“How could you just let him GO!? He all but confessed that he let these beasts loose upon us, and that he intends to do so again!?”

Hephestia shrieks, drawing your attention away from Nihilus’s writing. Right, there were still a bunch of fiends running amok in your city. And whether you trusted Nihilus to keep his word about leaving with them or not, you had to make sure that none remained behind to inflict further chaos. Curiously, as you look outside now, you can see that the unnatural darkness Glurdalak had created was beginning to fade.

Gorgondantess

Announcing your intention to side with the fiends after all, you step through the portal and immediately find yourself in the ruined market square. You are alone, but not for long as a very-oversized centipede-like creature, bristling with weapons, skitters out of a nearby alleyway. Upon seeing you it draws its weapons, although it assumes a defensive posture.

“You appear to be an angel but given you aren’t attacking me on sight I can only assume you are something different. Identity yourself, or prepare to defend yourself – your choice!”

As it turned out, you would have to do neither, as a few seconds later Nihilus emerged from the portal, which swiftly closed shut behind him.

“This is a new ally of mine Yvonne. That is all you really need to know for now.”

“Fair enough.”

The serpentine woman said, and sheathed all of her weapons. Nihilus looked around at the empty courtyard and sighed in irritation.

“It would appear that we are alone. Would you be so kind as to signal the rest of our allies that it’s time to gather here and leave?”

“Very well.”

Yvonne said, pulling out a strange sort of weapon that seemed to come from the Baron of Gast’s airship. Pointing it up into the sky, Yvonne fired several blasts from the cannon, and then slung the weapon back across her back and crossed her arms. Again, you didn’t have particularly long to wait before a pile of ooze slithered out of an alleyway from the same direction as Yvonne. A large winged demon wielding a pair of equally massive swords approached from the opposite direction, accompanied by a gaunt, emaciated figure.

“Why are we leaving!?”

The massive demon growled.

“We can destroy them all here and now!”

Nihilus sighed in reply.

“No, we cannot. Most of the cannon fodder that Ek’ra has provided us with have perished. The paladins have a large group of reinforcements breaking into the city. And perhaps most importantly, Ander has killed Quietus and destroyed his soul. I got what I came for, and have no desire to risk Ander accomplishing the same with me. You are welcome to stay behind if you wish to join him in oblivion.”

“WHAT!?”

Before Nihilus is forced to repeat himself, the area around you grows very dark, and you sense that another Fiend Lord has arrived. A moment later and a gigantic spider that is missing one leg stumbles into the destroyed square. Nihilus nods in satisfaction and tears open another portal, this time walking forward as he drags his hand through the air to rip a portal large enough for the bigger Fiend Lords to enter.

“Gang’s all here. Time to go. Don’t look so worried Mammon – we’ll be back soon enough.”

Sullenly the large demon growls and then steps forward, ducking inside the portal. The rest of the motley assortment follows in rapid succession, leaving you and Nihilus the only ones present in the square. Nihilus holds up a hand for you to wait.

“Once we get back to the Hells, I will need to deal with them. Hopefully this little excursion has sated their bloodlust somewhat. I will introduce you to the one that should currently have possession of your love – his name is Zareth the Remorseless, and he’s one of the members of the Devil side of the Fiend Lords. I’m afraid he has quite a taste for torture, so Maurice may be . . . damaged somewhat. I suspect he won’t want to hand her over to you willingly unless you have something to offer to him – a favor or some new plaything, hence why I suggested Hephestia. Of course, negotiations aren’t the only way business can be conducted down in the Hells. I would be willing to assist you in such an effort . . . in return for an additional favor. What is your plan at this point in time?”

Phaedra

The_Snark

“Hmph. I got the sense that her mother was important, given that the . . . person sent to retrieve her kept calling her “princess”. I didn’t actually buy that at first, but y’know, it just fits. Surprise every minute with her! And we’ll just see about that – they certainly haven’t been very friendly to me. Or you.”

Wulfric growled, and then resumed his assault upon the bars of your prison. After a moment’s thought, he paused and growled out another oath.

“Y’know what, I don’t care whether she wants to stay or not. Her father has already demonstrated that he’s an *******, and if he’s running around snatching bodies on top of that I can’t see how being with him is going to be good for her. And so far her mother is up there on my list as well!”

Wulfric is about to resume his assault on the bars when you make the older than you look comment. He pauses again, sizing you up for a moment as you continue, and then nods.

“Yeah, I guess I can see that. And look around girl, er, lady – we’re already locked up at the bottom of a frozen castle in the middle of an alternate realm inhabited exclusively by what I can only assume are the legendary Fey. I’m sure things could be worse, that’s the one universal constant, but we’re already in it pretty deep. And I suspect that they’re going to like the idea of me taking Jacqueline out of here even less than freeing you. And so far you’re the only friendly person I’ve met here, so the more the merrier – I don’t suppose you’re any good in a fight? Maybe know how to use magic or some such?”

Wulfric manages to break another of the bars, and then predictably everything goes bad. A man with the lower body of a horse comes charging around the corner, skidding to a halt to jab a finger at Wulfric.

“Stop, human! By order of Queen Titania, you will return to your cell immediately!”

“Oh, bugger it!”

Wulfric curses, and then pulls his arm back and hurls his makeshift tool at the centaur. It strikes the Fey directly in the face, and blue blood erupts from the centaur’s nose as he reels back into the wall. Desperately reaching in through the broken bars, Wulfric grabs hold of you and drags you out through the gap he has created. It’s not an entirely pleasant experience as the gap is a little too small for both you and your wings, but Wulfric manages to twist you once you are halfway out and get you into the hallway with no serious injury. Then he snaps off a hanging piece of one of the broken bars, pressing the sharp tip of the shattered ice up against your throat.

“Listen ugly! I see or even hear you following after me and I’ll slit this little tart from ear to ear! You may not care about that, but I bet your precious queen does! Now back off!”

Cradling his dripping nose, the centaur bows his head and whispers, the sound not carrying far enough to be intelligible. Nonetheless, the centaur holds his ground as Wulfric backs away down the corridor, dragging you along with him. You turn around a corner, and as soon as you do Wulfric lowers the icicle away from your throat and shifts his grip from your waist to your wrist.

“And now, we run!”

He says, dragging you along behind him as he charges down the mostly featureless corridor leading through the ice. At the first open doorway you find, Wulfric dashes through it, heedless of whatever is waiting on the other side. Fortunately, nothing is waiting, except one of the floating lights that you had seen in abundance out in the crystalline forest, this one half-covered by a film of ice and thus glued to the wall. Wulfric peeks out into the corridor and then turns back to you with a grin.

“There. Now we take a quick breather, and then we keep running. Sorry about that tart comment. So, uh . . . any idea how to get out of here? Maybe where Jacqueline is now? If I can talk to her alone, maybe I can convince her to get us out of here.”

Wulfric looks at you thoughtfully for a moment, and then pulls his heavy cloak open.

“You look cold – guess ******* didn’t think you needed a heavy cloak like they gave me. Do you want to borrow it for a little bit? Need to keep your muscles warm for all the running, fighting, and staying alive that we’re about to be doing.”


The Past Age

WhiteKnight777

At your questions, Nihilus fixes his orange-colored eyes on you.

“What do you think I was trying to do? But it’s not exactly easy to deal with someone who can anticipate your every move! Damnit, I wish I had that gift so I could stop being blind-sided by nonsense like *this*!”

At your last question about Marialta’s claims of Nihilus aiding her, Nihilus shrugs.

“I have no idea. I see no potential benefit in sending her back here to risk muddling everything up. Unless . . . maybe my future self knew she would fail here, having my experiences to draw from, but that there would be some benefit from it? Ugh, these time travel loops give me a headache. It doesn’t matter why she’s here, only that she is and that the two of us have to stop her. Now what did you need from Kartul’s laboratory to deal with her?”

You give Nihilus the list, and he nods and steps through the portal. A few seconds after it has closed behind him, it re-opens again to deposit Nihilus back onto the rooftop. Questions about why he has returned are immediately answered as he drops the requested bundle of supplies at your feet.

“There. I’m pretty good at fetching things quickly, at least.”

Nihilus says, and then looks out over the city thoughtfully.

“You know, Marialta might well have her own key, which means she has two of the three. I’ve been thinking about it, and I have an idea about where she might be getting the third. Gilgaem should be hosting one of his little impromptu challenger brawls in a couple hours. As you might recall, he basically just goes out into the city and looks for anyone with the stones to stand up to him in a fist fight. He won’t have his weapons on him – nearby, perhaps, but not readily at hand. There’s enough magic in them to prevent thievery, but someone who knows what they’re doing might be able to retrieve the key from the hilt. I happen to know where Gilgaem will be for this particular rampage, and so we can lie in wait there. Unless you think Marialta will know we’re going to do that, and go after someone else’s key while we’re sitting around waiting for her. I assume with all of these . . . items from Kartul, we might be able to hunt her down regardless, but I’m not exactly thrilled to be chasing after her, one step behind yet again.”


The Mortal Realm

A Stretch of Forest in the Barony of Gast

TechnOkami/daelrog

At Alons’ comments, the barmaid’s cheeks flush, either from embarrassment at the praise or the fact that someone noticed her passing fascination with Rosenberg.

“R-right.”

She says, nodding in agreement as she turns away and hurries off to pick her pack of supplies back up. Greg and Mags also pick up their sacks, and within a few minutes the group is once again ready to depart. Thankfully, although they were not going to be brought along, the cache of supplies did have a few sets of dry clothes that Rosenberg was able to appropriate.

Meanwhile, Jarod stares down at the dismembered body of his friend. He stretches out a hand, and the earth rises up to reclaim the hacked apart pieces, leaving the roses left by the scythe to serve as a marker for the grave.

“Rest in peace, my friend. You shall be avenged.”

Jarod said simply, and then turned away to rejoin Rosenberg. He nods at the offered sympathy.

“Thank you. Garret was not always the most astute druid, but he did not deserve to be made into some creature’s puppet. The elves have gone far beyond the boundary of acceptable behavior. I shudder to think what they will do next, or what they might be able to unleash with an entire city’s population to offer as sacrifice.”

A few minutes later, and the small group continued on, leaving the somber example of what the elves were capable of behind them. Nothing bothers the group for the rest of the day, and as the sun begins to set the forest begins to thin, revealing the presence of a small village that is still intact and bustling with activity. Apparently there is a supply caravan that is going to attempt to reach Amaranth leaving early the next morning, and aware that they won’t be able to evade detection the caravan organizers are instead attempting intimidation by employing every mercenary and do-gooder that they can find to protect it.

“Whelp, this is where we part ways, I think!”

Greg announcing, looking around at the assembled people, most of who will likely work through the night attempting to fortify the wagons.

“I’ve got family up in Coastvale. Long ways away from here, and even better, a long ways away from all of these damn elves.”

“But – I thought we were going to Amaranth? To help?”

At this, the crotchety old man gives a bark of a laugh.

“Are you kidding me? I just got done escaping death or worse at the hands of a bunch of those knife-eared bastards! Why the Hells would I willingly go into a city that’s about to be sacked by the blighters!? No, I’m going somewhere far away and wait for all this to blow over.”

“Mhmmm.”

Mags grunted, clearly agreeing with Greg’s assessment that running away was the better plan. Tears starting to form in her eyes, Willow looked to Alons for support, or perhaps to question whether the traveler had thought better of involving himself in this dangerous conflict any further. Meanwhile, Jarod pulled Rosenberg aside for no less grim of a conversation.

“Listen Rosenberg. I am no longer sure that it is best for us to both go to help save Amaranth. It was one thing when the elves were simply helping an Inferno Lord create a Nexus. Now that the Fey are involved we are in even more serious danger. We need to warn the others, and get every single druid that we can hear to stop this before it spirals out of control any further. That means either we both go, or one of us goes and the other tries to keep the elves from overrunning the city. They aren’t going to stop here if they sack Amaranth – maybe it won’t ever end now that the elves are meddling in affairs far beyond them. Do you want to stay or go? Or do you think that we should stick together? We seem to make a pretty good team – as always.”

The Besieged City of Amaranth

GuyFawkes

“Very well lad, I’ll introduce you to the local detachment’s commander. I believe he knows of me. And I haven’t been here long, perhaps a little over a week . . . or was it two? I spend more time than I should in the taverns. My wife, she used to say . . .”

Ross trails off, not completing the thought and instead turning away and hustling off down the street, evidentially trusting you to follow after. The paladin base camp is not a particularly impressive sight, due to the fact that it was a squat warehouse in the city slums that the paladins had appropriated for their use. Nonetheless, you notice several crossbowmen keeping watch from the building’s roof, and they keep a wary eye on you and Ross as the two of you approach the front entrance where two more guards wait. Recognizing Ross, one of the door guards motions to the ones up on the roof, and they turn away to continue scanning the rest of the city.

“Greetings, lads. We’re looking for Knight-Captain Williamson. Can he spare a moment to speak with an old friend?”

The door guard hung his head.

“Williamson is dead, Sir Ross. Slain in an elven ambush when we rode out to try and help a group of refugees they had released as bait for a trap. Knight-Lieutenant Harrington is now is command.”

“Harrington? As in Ashley Harrington?”

Ross said, his face brightening to the closest that you had seen to a smile yet. The door guard nodded, and Ross actually broke out into a grin.

“Where is the Knight-Lieutenant at then? We both need to go see her!”

“She was in the infirmary, last I checked, helping to treat the ones that the elves didn’t manage to kill outright. They used some kind of poison on their arrows this time, something that is resistant to magical healing. They’ll be unable to fight for several weeks at this point, if they survive at all.”

“Thank ye lad. Now if it isn’t too much trouble, mind opening the door for me and my friend here?”

The door guards unlock and push open the door, allowing you to go inside, almost having to run to keep up with Ross as he hustles into the building, demanding directions to the infirmary from every paladin that you meet inside. Within a minute you find yourself inside a portion of the warehouse that has been cordoned off for use as a makeshift infirmary. Eight men lie on beds of straw, clearly hovering on the line between life and death. There are three more paladins who are also present that are in considerably better shape, although still haggard. One of them is a young woman with braided copper hair, who is involved in deep conversation with one of the other paladins as they check an injured man’s wounds. At Ross’s cry of “Ashley!”, however, she looks up, and her face brightens in the same way Ross had a minute ago.

“Uncle Alexander!”

She cried, running over to the two of you and allowing Ross to scoop her up in a bear hug that for a moment looked as if it might crush the life out of the small woman. Breaking the embrace off, Ross looked at the woman in a mixture of happiness and confusion, and then spares a glance at you.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you lass! My but you have grown! And a Knight-Lieutenant already!? Oh, Ashley, this is Noctis, a new friend of mine. He needs to talk to Ander immediately.”

Becoming serious again, the young woman gives you a curt nod.

“If you are a friend of Uncle Alexander’s, then consider yourself welcome here. Although I’m not sure of how much help we will be at present. The Speaker is currently at Luxien, last that I heard.”

Ross leans in to you, delivering the next line in a stage whisper and earning a slap to the chest from Ashley.

“I’m not actually her uncle, although I’m sure her family would benefit from having some Ross blood in it.”

“When I was a child, Alexander saved our village from the predations of a vampire. More specifically, he saved me after the vampire abducted me with the intent to turn me into his own child.”

“Crazy bastard, trying to make his own eternal family! What should have just been one vampire to deal with turned into half a dozen. Nearly was seven, but I got there in time. I’ve been Ashley’s honorary uncle ever since.”

“And the reason that I decided to become a paladin. But enough reminiscing! Come with me, and I’ll try to get in touch with the communicators at Luxien. Although I do caution you that the Speaker is a busy man, and we will likely end up talking to an officer or perhaps one of the Exarches if we’re really lucky.”

Ashley leads you up to one of the offices at the far end of the building, delivery schedules and inventory sheets still tacked onto the walls. She opens up a sealed chest with a key that she had hanging around her neck, and then pulls out a fist-sized crystal that periodically switches from clear to cloudy and back. The Knight-Lieutenant holds the crystal up in front of her face, and quietly whispers to it “Luxien”. The crystal swirls to cloudy, and then to Ashley’s clear consternation remains that way.

“I said, “Luxien.”

The crystal remains cloudy for a moment, and then suddenly swirls to reveal a panicked face, blood trickling down from one temple. Beyond the man, you can see fires raging out of control and dark shapes moving about. Sound begins to emanate from the crystal as well – screams both human and unearthly along with the clash of combat.

“We’re a little busy here right now!”

The man shouts, turning away as a shriek comes from directly behind him. As he turns, you catch a glimpse of the creature over his shoulder, all claws and armor plating, just before the beast strikes and the image within the crystal twirls wildly before suddenly resolving to be from the floor now, bearing witness as the demon tears the man’s body in half with another shriek. Ashley pales, and even Ross mutters a fierce curse at the sight. The crystal goes dark a moment later.

“So . . . we’re on our own, I guess.”

Ashley says quietly, setting the crystal onto a nearby desk before collapsing into a chair. Ross places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Nothing we can do about this, lass. But knowing Ander, I’m sure those fiends are going to rue the day they ever thought about setting foot on the mortal plane, let alone attacking *his* city! Soon as we finish dealing with these elves, we’ll go help him with putting that boot up their ass!”

Ashley is not so convinced, rubbing at her temples.

“And how, exactly, are we going to do that Uncle? The elves are picking us off one by one – we’re already down to half strength, and I don’t trust the city militia to be able to successfully defend this city once the elves *do* decide to attack in force!”

“Don’t worry so much, lass. Your “uncle” has been in worse scrapes than this before.”

Ross shoots a glance at you and shrugs.

“Well, I have! Like when I was down in the bowels of Ironheart, having to wade through an army of cultists with a ragtag band of former prisoners – including our current Speaker mind you – to stop the Forger of Oblivion (read: Azguloth) from being released from His prison! I even had to accept help from that damn fangy bastard Umber!”

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Nameless

The sudden memory shocks him into excitement, only to aggravate him as it disappears just as suddenly.

"Who are you? How did you do that? I remembered something! How did you make me remember?" he says, taking hold of her somewhat roughly, desperate for answers.

[GuyFawkes]

Lucifuge/Noctis

Noctis nodded when the Knight-Lieutenant addressed him, and he could not stop the edge of his lips creeping up into a faint smile as he saw the little familial dynamics going on between her and Ross. For the man to show such light side despite the grim atmosphere of the room, he could only ascertain the hardships to which this man called Alexander Ross must have faced in his life.

Inside the office, Noctis' eyebrow raised a little at the sight he saw inside the crystal ball. Not at the horrible scene that transpired within, but at who, or more appropriately what committed the act.

Fiends. So they are already making their move. And against the paladin headquarters. This may not bode well.

He could only hope that this was a random attack, but he could not help think the picture was a lot bigger than that. The only way to certain was to go there. With this attack, however, he thought he needed to wait for the elf's report from the fortress all the more.

Noctis' eyes twitched though at the mention of Ross' apparent exploits within the fortress, and his heart definitely skipped a bit when he heard him mention the Forger of Oblivion.

"Interesting story you have there. Perhaps you should tell that to me some time. As for Luxien, I would gladly accompany you with reclaiming the Cathedral City. Since I am still awaiting for my friend's return, I might as well lend a hand here to show my gratitude for helping me. Do tell me more of this situation with the elves. What information do you have about them?"

[Vegna]

Mal Harath

He tries to keep his feature steady, giving the passing people some comfort that things might be okay. They didn't need to see his gut growing blacker as he realized the fate his heroism had pulled him into.

The vines rubbed his skin uncomfortably, reddening his wrists and constricting his breath, but the mounting heat of the bonfire was far worse. His thirst felt lethal now, the marching across the countryside having squeezed him dry. As the fire elemental grew, his lips felt cracked and split, the roar of the shaped flames weakened his legs.

The falling tree brought a grin to his dry mouth.

"Val'Tosh. Thank the heaven and the stones."

The timely support of his allies turns his horror into elation, his limbs regaining some strength. Sweat begins to drip down his brow, in fear and from the heat, as Mal starts to try and wiggle against the spear, trying to topple it over with renewed conviction.

He pushes with his toes to soften the earth at the bottom of the elven weapon, his back pressing against the wood as he starts to tilt backward.

"Woah woah-woahwoah!"

His back smacks painfully against the wood, but the heat on his toes takes up the bulk of his attention. He starts to roll away lopsidedly, as his hand clasps for whatever he can find. As the fire monster turns to follow him, Mal's fingers clutch a jagged piece of rock, a shrapnel from the rescue boulder. As he tries to angle it to help him cut the vines, the heat starts to envelop him again.

Trying to focus, despite the heat and his cutting efforts, Mal pushes to try and slow the fire, softening the earth in front of it into muck, a pool larger and than he's ever had to try before in the conditions. He yells in frustration as he forces his slight magic to the edge of his ability.

[OverWilliam]

~Tare

Tare waited in breathless uncertainty as his vision tunneled and then went black altogether, expecting to drop into unconsciousness at any moment. But, for once he was surprised; gradually, beginning with a hazy point at the center of his vision, his sight faded back in and the sound of his own breathing in his ears began to relent. Having dropped against the wall for support, his shocked system quickly began to recover. Meanwhile, Tare hoped that his mental condition would make a matching rebound.

That process began when his still-fuzzy sight dropped onto Videle. Changed again, this time almost all hints of threat were gone from both her appearance and her posture.

“Tare . . . oh! There you go, you’re back now. I was worried about you.”

A surge of competing emotions broke out from Tare's chest to spread through his whole body when he heard the child-like voice. Memories of Melcara and Karami flashed through his mind. It was as though Videle was desecrating both memories by trying to tug on the same instincts of love and protection that were still real in his heart.

Momentarily, the thought that those emotions were still his own provided a quiet encouragement.

“Down here you only have the power that you can hold onto. In a way, I am just as helpless as the lowliest Ix, because there are certain expectations that restrain my behavior. But I . . . I hate it! I want to change it, but I can’t – I’m not strong enough!”

Tare let his face drop into a blank non-expression-- it was the only way he could conceal the rising volcano of ice-cold anger that was beginning to burn behind his eyes.

“P-please, please tell me how I can help you Tamerlane!”

Tare slowly stood from his slumped seat at the wall. She's lying. She's trying to manipulate me. The pieces were falling into place, and his eyes were beginning to adjust to see the strands of the demoness' spider web that had already begun wrapping him up for the kill. She's desperate. Something has happened and she needs someone with the kind of muscle that I showed her back when I was alive. First she tried to twist my mind with her aura. When that didn't work, she tried whoring herself for pain. Now she's offering me something to protect. She'll keep trying until she finds the one thing that I'd sell my soul to have, and when she does I'm finished. The anger burned brighter.

All of a sudden, a horrifying impulse came over Tare. He wanted her to hurt. More than that, he wanted to be directly responsible for causing her excruciating pain. He wanted to cut her. To bleed her. He wanted to strap her down and experiment with every single instrument of pain in her little toy closet, and then invent new ones when those ran out. He wanted to use fire, then water, then steel to draw out her screams like warm nectar. He wanted to use his own teeth on her skin, the better to feel her agony directly.

He wanted to dominate her. To Master her. He wanted to pit her will against his own, to drink in her confidence and then watch as she slowly realized herself to be weaker than he was. He thirsted to revel in those final moments of desperate struggle as she tried to fight him before he tamed her, and then broke her.

This was what he'd been offered mere moments ago, he realized, back when he'd still thought himself too human to be enticed by the thought. She would've given herself willingly, expecting the bumbling inexperience of a near-human, never expecting to discover that Blackness which had already lived in him since long before he had died. He'd hidden it from himself when he'd been alive. Now he could smell it. He could get drunk on it. He could lose himself in it.

Tare turned to face Videle, the glowing orange rings floating in inky blackness that now formed his eyes burning with single-minded hunger. She looked so soft. It would be so... easy. She had no idea what he really was inside.

He barely knew that himself.

That was finally the thought that scared some of himself back into his own mind. Holy hells... What is this? Tare looked down at his hands in horror. Where is this coming from?!

Again it attacked him, the hunger waging war for control of his hands, his feet, his desires. Tare realized that he was trying to resist it, but it didn't seem to be helping. It had the same feel as Vylethar's aura, or Videle's charms, but he was only just barely keeping control of himself. Then it dawned on him; where the succubi's charms had tried to force themselves on his behavior from outside... these urges were originating within himself.

How am I supposed to fight against... myself?! A breath of angel blood danced across his nose, and that was almost enough to take the fight right out of him. He heard himself snarling, an inhuman growl rising from within his own throat.

This is what drives them. To do what they do, to become what they are. Tare connected the puzzle pieces with dogged force of will. It's as though they have no free will-- what they do is merely an extension of what they are. She wasn't lying. She's telling the truth. Tare struggled, mortified by the thought, but feeling that victory was now within his grasp, if he could only find the key that would put his own will back in control again.

But then another thought occurred to him. Why bother? Why fight any more? Who was there to fight for?

His thoughts wandered to the Lost that he'd seen on his first trip to the Hells. When he'd still been alive. The ones, like himself, he mused, who had not earned their eternal damnation. The ones enslaved, the ones who'd been robbed of their very souls. Who cared about them? He could rule them now. He could be a just, benevolent slave master. Or a brutal, unforgiving one. Who was to tell him anything now? Why should he be anything other than what his gut instincts were telling him to be?!

Because I choose to.

The answer came to him in his own voice, a voice from his own past life. The hunger balked, unable to respond. Tare's thoughts surged. And then an old promise came to his mind. A promise no one but he knew, because it hadn't even been spoken aloud. A promise that here, now, he could choose to either keep... or break.

You who are trapped here wrongly... You who have no hope...

I'm not much... But watch for me.

...I'm coming back for you.

Tare's soul brightened.

And instead of visibly battling with himself, his stance grew still. He decided to call the demoness' bluff. "You're lying to me."

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

”Can't say I expected to see you in person. I also thought you'd be...taller,” he said. Sohssal almost expected a Fiend Lord to be more openly arrogant. Then again, it's not like he'd met that many Fiend Lords before. Nor would he do so in the future, if things went his way.

”Regardless, there is almost nothing I could not get on my own once I get out of the Hells, and I'd prefer to owe as few favors as possible to the locals,” Sohssal explained. He didn't feel the need to tell Nihilus about his plan with Xerxes. It couldn't hurt to have a backup in case one fiend or the other was untrustworthy, and knowledge of the ritual might come in handy even if he had other means of escape.

[Kasanip]

Lukina
Luxien, The Cathedral City


"Glurdalak and Skithiss... The names Lukina muttered brought a fierce headache, as if her memories were disgusted by the names.

But it couldn't stop her from the relief she felt as well. Somehow, she did it. Even if the cold stones of the street didn't celebrate, and her body rebelled, it was ok for now.
"Thank you." She whispered greatfully for the help of Tyberius and Welkin to help her sit up. She tried to raise her sword to look at the blade, but it felt like it weighed 100kg.
She caught her breath and nodded weakly to Welkin's question, finding it easy to make a faint smile.

"I-I'll be ok. I didn't get hit. Only, exhausted." She responded, her hair finally returning to it's normal dark color. Then she turned her eyes to look at Tyberius. This made her more solemn as she answered.
Even if she had believed, somehow it was a relief that the fiend lords had recognized her light. For Lukina it was resonating proof.

"I'm Lukina. I was born here in Narle. But before this, I was Genevieve. I am Genevieve, servant of Our Lady Miriam the Valkyrie. I can remember faintly in my dreams and nightmares some things... But a lot of it is clouded. I don't...know. I don't know what happened. How I came to be...like this." She said, weakly clench and unclench her fist in her lap. "Was it Our Lady's plan for me to live like this? How do I answer, being Lukina and trying to remember the part of me that is Genevieve? I have to learn... And that's why I wanted to come here."
She tried to look as composed and earnest as she could. "I really don't know what is going on. Why those...fiend lords? Why are they attacking Luxien. Is my purpose to be here? I know I am asking a lot of questions... I hoped that the paladins, who are always faithful and loyal servants of Our Lady, can help me.

And I know it's difficult to believe my words. But you've seen what I have done. I'm..not human."
Lukina stopped as she said that. The words were surprisingly painful. She was human. When she wasn't fighting, she was very much Lukina, and not Genevieve. The old memories were more like dreams when she was alone, or when she had been riding. But they had become so strong when she fought the fiend lords, that she had felt like she was close to remembering something important.

"No, I am human." She corrected. "I am Lukina, too. But...I desire to speak to My Lady and learn her plan for me. I wanted to ask you paladins, who serve honorably, if you can help me. And what I can do to help. Though....we have to save the city first, right? Wait, are there more of these fiends here?" She tried to stand, but found it too difficult. She silenced a groan, as she reached her right arm to Welkin.
"Please help me stand, I can still fight."

[TechnOkami]

Rosenberg

Rosenberg smiled slightly at the comment of their teamwork synergy.

"That we do, my friend."

He then took out his long pipe, which thankfully was not snapped like a twig during the fight, and began to load it once again with his tobacco of choice.

"I wish you could stay and we could send someone else, but I fear we do not have that luxury, not this time."

His palm grew a little flame once more, finding its way to the pipe to set smoldering embers inside once again.

"Between the two of us, we both have good knowledge of the outlying Groves, and I am more weary of travel than you. Arguably, to a degree, I am stronger as well. No offense."

Puffs of smoke swirled from his mouth, like the forlorn breath of a dragon rising from slumber.

"I will stay with the town and hold the line, with everything I have. You must go and rally the others. Send them here as soon as you can. If this situation is as dire as you say, then we're going to need all the help we can muster. Go, and be swift, my friend."

Lastly, Rosenberg turns to his archer companion.

"Alons, can you come with me to Amaranth? I could use your help defending the town; your sharp eyes would be useful against the elvish bowmen."

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber simply smirked at Nihilus' protests. It didn't really solve anything, but Umber was still a bit irked by his ally's non-involvement during the fight, and he knew how irritating his smirk was. His answer in regards to the bitch's cryptic commentary was no more helpful. But since Umber had no further information at the moment, he filed that one away for future examination. He had been one of the most powerful people on the planet, yet somehow he managed to keep running into foes who flat-out cheated. It was getting rather irritating. It was like playing a game of Chess, or the more complicated Shei-vailan equivalent... what was it called again? It translated to something like battle without honor or reason... Feh, his mind was wandering again.

He considered Nihilus' proposal, then nodded. He had been preparing to simply wait near the chamber itself and then ambush her, but this plan offered more advantages - and besides, they could always fall upon the other as a backup if necessary. "Aye, let us do so. Although I wonder if Marialta intends to attempt to interact with her past-self. Fate seemed to intervene to prevent me from doing so, but I'm unsure if it would do the same for her. Frankly, that possibility is a little disturbing."

The possibilities unrolled before him - Marialta helping her future self. Marialta posessing her former self. Neither was good, and both had the potential to ruin the entire plan. But... if she had been intending to do that, she would've done it from the beginning, wouldn't she?

"In any case... the items I've asked you to obtain give us a number of options. We can attempt to outright murder her host body, capture the fugitive soul, or simply tear her essence apart at the level of the essentium - the smallest unit of spiritual existence, that is. It's a bit like the natural philosophy concept of the atom, applied to the soul."

[Gorgondantess]

"What is your plan at this point in time?”
She looks down, pensive. Nihilus' words didn't change anything, but they made the urgency of her quest ever more palpable.
"Can you reopen that portal? Back to the tower."
"Mmm. Why?"
"...I left something there."
Nihilus complies, and as he's opening the portal she begins to transform. She doesn't even step through, simply standing inside and sending some feelers through.

Back in the Speaker's bedchambers, Hephestia is the one doing the speaking.
“How could you just let him GO!? He all but confessed that he let these beasts loose upon us, and that he intends to do so a-AH!” YOINK!
She shrieks as a black tentacle, covered in barbs and suckers, coils around her ankle and yanks her through the newly formed portal there and over her waiting shoulder.
"Any particular reason you changed your mind?"
She responds with a non sequitur, not wanting too divulge too much about her motives. Nihilus could probably guess as it was.
"Why is it exactly that these people want to get their hands on this human so badly?"

She grunts at his response, quirking an eyebrow unimpressed. It mattered little, anyways- Hephestia was a human now, and so she had little to worry about in terms of her escape. It was the actual transaction that was going to be... tricky.
"As for my plans... I'd like to send a message to this 'Remorseless'. To tell him that I have their Adjudicator, that I am willing to trade her for a single angel, and that until our negotiations are complete he will refrain from torturing, molesting, or otherwise damaging his stock or he'll not get so much as a whiff of her. After all, I don't want my goods to be damaged," she says dryly.
"...Do you think he would be amenable to that?"

[daelrog]

Alons Sift

At first Alons was glad to be rid of Greg, he could do without the unpleasantness. It wasn’t until it dawned on him that there was a legitimate choice to be made that his expression turned sour. Any signs at all, anything to make his choice clearer. He glanced at Willow looking at him with teary eyes, making Alons sigh. She was beautiful, and had a good mind on her shoulders, but she was not Larent, and she never would be. The foreigner had been hoping for a night with the girl to celebrate surviving the ordeals within the forest, but it wasn’t love, something it seemed like poor Willow was starting to have.

There was that pull still to take her with him, to have a buxom, young maiden accompany him for a bit longer. It would make the headache of speaking this new language all the time more bearable, and something to look forward to between fights if this city was indeed under siege. Not as if this city couldn’t use another strong set of arms like Willow’s to help behind the lines, safe within the walls…

Then Rosenberg spoke and Alons snapped out of his lust-driven reasoning. Without any direction to go, the fellow druid seemed as like a path to follow as any. Alons nodded an ascent to Rosenberg.

He then looked to Willow. “You should go with the caravan. Surely we will meet again another day.” It seemed the right thing to do. To tempt a young maiden was more than acceptable to the scoundrel, but he was not so callous as to bring said maiden to a warzone, just for the warmth in his pants.

[Lonna]

The Woman with Many Names

"I didn't bring Wulfric, technically." Jacqueline patiently replied to Titania's scolding. "He carried me through the portal to save me from an attack. It was all I could do to burn out the poison on the assassin's bolts."

Her justification for Wulfric's presence was interrupted as Titania's ball of ice revealed the man in question attempting to escape his admittedly prison-like room. Before Jacqueline could say anything more, Titania acted to resolve the situation, leaving her daughter to stare as one of the previously formless wisps transformed into a centaur... with a familiar name. The shock of memory distracted her an instant too long to interfere, and the former huntsman disappeared into the ice palace.

Hesitantly, she decided to leave well enough alone, for now, and turned her attention to Titania. "I can only remember bits and pieces of that first life, as Pyria," she explained. "I remember running from the city, with my bodyguard, but I don't know what exactly happened. Why did the angels attack us? What happened to the city?"

As she listened to Titania's explanation, Jacqueline's eye fell on the scene playing out in the crystal ball, just in time to see Wulfric threaten the winged girl. Titania, seeing her distraction, followed her gaze, her face instantly darkening.

"Mother," interjected the princess, before Titania could do more than swell with fury, "Wulfric does not understand your good intentions. He has overcome everything the mortal world could put in his way in order to protect me, but I only recently came to understand who and what I am, so I never had a chance to explain it to him. He probably thinks I am in danger here. Please, let me go to him. He will listen to me. Otherwise he will try to tear through the palace as he tore through Baron Gast's airship to rescue me."

[Inspectre]

The Hells

The Mire of Desolation

Archpaladin Zousha

As you grip the woman and almost shake her in a desperate attempt to break her out of her fugue and get answers, you realize that you cannot pull her further out of the water. It is like she is buried in rock rather than water, and not even your apparently considerable strength can move her. She winces at your grip, indicating that she is still somewhat aware of herself, but nonetheless continues her confused rant.

“Father, you’re hurting me! Why are you hurting me!? I know you’re disappointed in me, but I tried! I tried so hard to follow in your footsteps. All I ever wanted was to be just like you. I’m sorry that now, I will never get that chance.”

You are suddenly thrown off-balance and nearly stumble face first down into the muck within the hut as the woman suddenly sinks further down below the surface. Her descent is not rapid, but it is without warning, as if whatever had been holding her up unexpectedly collapsed. She sinks down into the muck until only her face is still visible, floating just above the surface (and as you could not pull her out, neither could you stop this descent even if you try).

“I’ve let everyone down, but I don’t think there’s any way I can redeem myself. Oh gods, how could I have been so stupid!?”

The woman whispers, and then as if to comfort herself, she begins to sing. It’s off-tune now, more in line with the haunting violin eating away at the back of your mind than it was in your brief snatch of memory.

“The sun . . . shall shine . . . t-through . . . darkest c-cloud . . . f-following . . . blackest night . . .”

The woman’s sorrowful rendition is cut short by a bout of swearing – not from the woman, but from outside the hut. You recognize the voice as belonging to Katrina, and watch as the devil-horned woman stomps through the swamp just outside the hut, pausing now and again to kick blindly at roots jutting up from the swamp’s bottom.

“Gods damn IT! When are you bastards going to stop ****ing around with me and get to the gods’ damn POINT!? I’m already dead, in the Hells, killed by that no-good piece of **** Baron! I’ve been shoved into some mockery of a human body, beaten to within an inch of my new life, and called Ix. Just what the **** is an Ix anyway!? But you couldn’t leave it alone, could you!? You just had to go and pair me up with someone who’s taken so many blows to the head he can’t even remember his own name, and one of the Baron’s lap dogs! Did you think that was funny, you bastards!? But even that wasn’t enough because as soon as we got anywhere you had to split us up and dump me in this gods damned swamp, filled with nothing but mist and the most obnoxious music I have ever heard! Yeah, can you hear me violin player? **** you! I’d cut my own ears off if I had a knife, just to be rid of your miserable attempts to make sound!”

Katrina storms past the hut, potentially not even noticing it in her rage. In a few moments she would be swallowed by the mists again, but before that happened you could intervene. You could chase after her, although that would mean abandoning the hut and its about-to-drown occupant, and you could very well be unaware to find your way back if it disappeared into the mists behind you. You could also call out to get her attention, although that might well attract other, unwanted attention. You have still not shaken off the feeling that you’re being watched, from somewhere unseen, just beyond the barrier of mist, ahead or behind you or off to one side. On the other hand, Katrina was making more than enough noise for the both of her with her unending rage-fueled rant against those responsible for this place.

The Estate of Lord Nihilus

Iethloc

“And if I was as big as Mammon, you’d openly wonder why I was so fat.”

Nihilus quipped at your tall remark, continuing to size you up with his orange eyes. At your next observation, Nihilus nodded his head.

“Yes, that is undoubtedly true. But getting out of here – that is the rub, is it not?”

Nihilus holds his hand out in front of him, arm outstretched and palm up. A small portal appears just above his hand, and through the head-sized portal you can see your island manor.

“I can transport you to your island retreat safely and without delay. But I will require one of those favors you just mentioned in return.”

Nihilus closes his fist and the portal vanishes, too quick for you to think about trying to pass through it (narrow spaces weren’t much of a problem after all when you no longer truly possessed a body).

“All I require in return is that you figure out a way to produce me one of these.”

Nihilus opens his hand back up again, and resting on his palm is the by-now familiar sight of a soul crystal. The finger-long object glows faintly with its own inner light.

“I’m sure your brief alliance with the Baron has informed you as to what this is. What you may not know is how to produce them. For that, you will need to speak with Istomilo – perhaps you have heard of him? From here you may find that difficult, although I’m told he had a laboratory here prior to his departure. Perhaps you can start your search for answers there? Oh, and I don’t need any of the lesser crystals that the Baron favored for his constructs. No, I want something more along the lines of the one he intended to use to trap Miriam in – only roughly the same size as the crystal I now hold in my palm. Do you think that is within your abilities, demon mage? I get the crystal, you get your freedom, and we both go our separate ways having mutually benefited from this arrangement. What do you think?”

The Screaming Dark Estate

OverWilliam

“Oh, for the love of –“

Videle hisses as she changes back into her succubus form and also stands up. She sighs in clear irritation as she brushes a strand of hair out of her face.

“You were so close for a moment there. I actually thought you would come out and play for once, and then we could have some fun. But apparently a disappointing coward is all that you will ever be unless provoked. Well . . . I can do that too!”

Videle suddenly leaps forward, grabbing hold of you and slamming you against the wall, displaying that same level of awe-inspiring strength that Melcara had. Videle seems unable or unwilling to display the same knowledge to use exactly the right amount of that strength, however, and shivers of pain radiate from your back as it meets the unyielding stone.

Videle does demonstrate that she knows more than simple brute force a moment later as she precisely jabs her fingers into a spot just before your ribs on the right side, digging the fingers deeply there and twisting, while at the same time reaching up with her other hand and pressing down on a spot just behind your left ear. Your entire body suddenly locks up, your own muscles freezing up to hold you immobile. The succubus queen cackles in delight as she dances back, raising a hand up to her face in mock surprise.

“Oh, did you really think that I had become the master of this place through temptation and deception alone? No, they rightly fear me above and beyond their adoration and it’s time for your next lesson. If you’re not going to be a player, then you’re nothing but a toy, and I will use you at and for my pleasure.”

Going over to her supply closet, Videle procures several lengths of rope and then returns, taking her time like a spider. And just like a spider she starts wrapping you up, displaying the same lack of gentleness as she did when she threw you against the wall.

“You don’t need to worry about the paralysis, it’ll fade soon on its own. Of course, by then it’ll be much too late, and you’ll still feel everything that I do to you regardless. Maybe next time someone offers you the chance to be the master and not the slave, you’ll take it.”

Videle murmurs in your ear as she pulls the knots painfully tight. Eventually she finishes and walks back over to her desk. You are starting to get some response back from your muscles by then, not that it means much as you’ve been practically mummified. Videle picks up her weapon of choice, and with a flick of her thumb extends the chain sword into whip form.

“Now then Tamerlane, I’m not going to kill you. Killing you would merely be letting you have the easy way out, as you gradually forget more and more who you were with each death. No, you’re going to surrender yourself to me, because each time you don’t I will inflict such pain upon you that you could never even conceive of it, even in your worst nightmares!”

Videle rants, growing more agitated with each word until spittle is literally flying out of her mouth. It would seem that the succubus queen has her own impulse control issues, although unlike you she has no reason or desire to struggle against them. That unfortunately isn’t a weakness that you can exploit right now, although it does seem to confirm that you are not the only one with an inner darkness, merely just the only one that hasn’t (yet) unleashed it.

“So which unnecessary body part would you like to lose first, Tamerlane? How about . . . we start with something below the waist!”

Videle taunts, pulling the whip-like blade back for a strike. Having already seen what she was able to do with it to the angel, you suspect that what was about to transpire was going to be highly unpleasant. Fortunately for you, at that exact moment a loud hammering came against the office’s door.

“Mistress Videle!”

A guttural voice bellowed from the other side of the door. For a moment it looked like Videle would actually explode and save you the trouble, but she manages to regain enough control to merely skewer the door with a look of fury.

“What did I tell you about interrupting me when I was busy with business in my office?”

Videle asked with false sweetness, her voice dropping an octave to a husky growl. For a moment there was silence from the other side of the door, then the interloper persisted.

“It’s Lord Nihilus, my Lady! He is most insistent upon seeing you! Immediately!”

Again Videle seems like she is going to throw a potentially disastrous temper tantrum, but then she carefully reforms the chain sword back into a mere sword and sets it down onto her desk. Walking over to you, she picks you up with one hand and tosses you back inside of the iron maiden, making sure to close and lock it, as well as rearming the guillotine blade, although she leaves the chains that formerly held you in a messy pile on the floor. Evidentially she trusted her rope work to hold you, and rightfully so perhaps. Gliding over to the door, she threw it open and fixed the burly devil, one of the same who had dragged you in here, with a withering stare.

“Fine.”

She says simply, hooking a thumb back to point at you.

“Go get your friend and drag this wretch down to my play room. I’ll go deal with Nihilus, and then when I get down there you better already be finished with the moving.”

“Yes, of course.”

The devil said, bowing low as Videle sauntered past him and down the hallway out of sight. He likewise disappeared, only to return a few moments later with his twin, and the two of them began to drag your torture coffin out into the hall and then down to Videle’s play room one screeching, sliding foot at a time. This time, you are wide awake for the journey, and so you see every horrific detail of the estate’s transformation under its new owner.

Theme I: Tare Falls, Tamerlane Rises

Gone are the paintings and sculptures of varying quality, replaced by occupied torture devices and chained prisoners. Devils of all shapes and sorts, from the burly ones similar to those dragging you to lithe succubi to chattering imps, move about in the hallways, stopping now and again to turn the devices another quarter-turn tighter or slice swallow cuts on the bound victims with their claws. The side rooms are all occupied and in use, although the curtains drawn across most prevent you from seeing inside. Judging from the horrific sounds coming from within the rooms beyond, you wouldn’t want to.

The great hall that runs down the middle of the estate is similarly decorated, although the primary victims there are the angels hanging down from the ceiling from hooks and chains in a cruel mockery of flight. Nobody touches those, presumably as they belong to “Mistress Videle” alone. On the floor of the great hall itself, it appears that a bazaar is taking place, still-living humans in flimsy clothing and chains being peddled before fiends who have come to purchase live slaves. There is good business being done down there, if any definition of “good” could be applied to this travesty.

Deeper into the manor you go, the two devils struggling as they carefully lower your movable prison down the familiar steps leading into the basement of the manor. Here again the purpose has been changed, from a meaningless mining project to an overflow chamber, bound humans packed into the cells lining the outside ring while others are beaten and whipped for sport down in the courtyard.

Still deeper you go, into the very darkest depths beneath the manor. This section had been presumably the side passage you had seen but never explored during your first visit here. Despite the meaningless digging and construction that Vylethar had ordered connecting the manor to this area, the grimy corridor appeared to be older than the area above it. Both sides of the hallway were lined with thick iron doors spaced every few feet, with narrow barred grates allowing sight into the rooms beyond. This appeared to be a holding area rather than a . . . work area, although that did not mean it was any less of a place of suffering. You could hear sobbing, screaming, and other more muffled cries coming from within a few of the rooms, and saw several figures being beat and tortured in others, the occupants evidentially being given a private session.

The one occupant that particularly caught your eye was what appeared to be a half-formed succubus with bright red hair sitting bound in one corner of the room, her head lulling listlessly from side to side. You thought you recognized her, from your last time here when she was more human-looking . . . Vivian, you think Vylethar said her name was? You seem to remember her stabbing you in the back – evidentially this was her reward.

Then your little parade reaches the end of the hallway, to a solid black door decorated with hearts made out of bloodstains. The devils unbar the door without too much difficulty and then throw it open, dragging you inside to Videle’s playroom. It is as well-stocked with torture devices as her office supply closet was stocked with restraints. It was also currently occupied, another familiar face hanging vertically from a rack while gears turned and ever so slowly worked a bloody saw up through his body.

“Hahaha . . ugh . . . hah! So good to see you again!”

Vylethar said as the two devils dragged you into the far corner of the room, settling your prison down into a slot on the floor and bolting it into place. The two devils left without further comment, evidentially in a hurry to get out of there lest Videle arrive while they are still present. Vylethar groans as the saw slides up another half inch through his waist area, and then flashes a bloody grin.

“So . . . still planning on torturing me for eternity? Or is this . . . ugh! . . . painful enough for you already?”

The Mortal Realm

The Woods Outside Silverstream

Vegna

Your efforts to free yourself succeed somewhat, as you manage to tip the spear and yourself over. The impact against the ground does not break the elf weapon, but it does leave you free to start working the lengths of vine off of both ends. The bladed tip of the weapon works quite well for cutting through the loops of vine holding your arms behind your back, as does a sharp stone that you just so happen to find.

The fire elemental is surprisingly repulsed at your creation of a pool of mud in front of it. Upon learning that advancing forward would mean stepping down into the liquefied ground, the elemental shies back, and eventually ops to walk around the mud patch. This gives you enough time to free yourself, although no sooner have you cut yourself free before another threat other than the giant fire elemental reveals itself. The elven captain has seen your escape attempt, and you have just enough time to snatch up the spear you had just freed yourself from and interpose it between his falling sword and your head.

Unfortunately, you are still at a disadvantage seeing how you are currently lying on the ground. The elven commander exploits this by delivering several more downward slashes that you are able to frantically parry, and then kicks you in the face. Your head snaps back into the ground, and for a moment you see stars. Forcing yourself to roll aside more on trained instinct than anything else, you nearly dodge the elven commander’s downward thrust, leaving him to embed his sword in nothing more than dirt.

Just as you can soften dirt, you can harden it too, and at your command the earth hardens around the elf’s sword, preventing him from drawing it back out. Undoubtedly cursing in elvish, the commander abandons his weapon and dances back away from you, reaching around to the bow slung across his back. Meanwhile, the fire elemental has finished circling around the pool of mud and again begins to lumber towards you, circling around to come at you from the opposite side as the elf commander. So, apparently the creature of fire was smart enough to understand basic tactics. Just great.

Luxien, The Cathedral City

Kasanip

“You’ve done – alright.”

Welkin conceded after looking into your eyes. He offers you a hand, pulling you up to your feet. You had thought from your sitting position that you were alright, but your legs disagreed as they buckled and your vision momentarily greyed. You were not injured, but the exhaustion went beyond mere physical discomfort. It felt like the strain of being Genevieve for those brief minutes had gone down all the way to your very soul. It was a concerning thought what might have happened had you been forced to maintain your concentrate for much longer.

Although beneath the exhaustion, ever so faintly, there was a lingering warmth, a connection that had been forged and now could not be broken. Like exercising a muscle, you felt that in time you would grow stronger and able to more easily maintain the focus necessary for what you just did. Hopefully in time, your body would also grow used to the new demands being placed on it. Farm work was hard work, but nothing compared to fighting for your life.

As you stumble, Welkin again steadies you, and Tyberius lays a hand on your shoulder.

“Miss Lukina, I cannot say that I know what exactly you are either. But I believe that you are something . . . more than human. The idea that you are Genevieve is incredible, and it raises many questions, not the least of which is why would you return now?”

Welkin looks around at the ruined city and shakes his head.

“I would have thought that question, at least, had a very obvious answer.”

A few moments later, and the darkness covering the city faded entirely, allowing sunlight to once more shine upon your face. A number of the paladins briefly look up at the sky, enjoying the feel of the sun on their faces once more after the tainted darkness of Glurdalak. Now illuminated by sunlight, however, the city looks even worse, the damage no longer concealed by darkness. But as you watched the paladins advanced further into the city, finding survivors amongst the rubble and putting down the last of the demons.

“It would seem that Glurdalak, at least, has fled. Perhaps your services will not be needed after all. I’m going to the Council Chambers to introduce myself to the Speaker, should he still live. Would the two of you like to join me?”

Tyberius remarks, and for a moment Welkin grins in excitement before he realizes it and returns his expression to a more neutral and professional one.

“Of course! It would be an honor. And I do believe that was Lukina’s hope all along.”

Together the three of you set out through the city. In some places the damage is extreme – buildings leveled with corpses strewn about the wreckage – but in other places there is barely anything to suggest what had just happened. Unfortunately the Council Chambers appear to be more of the former as there are a number of bodies in the streets just outside. But those bodies are being quickly cleared away by survivors, and a new guard around the door set up.

As it turns out, looking for the Speaker won't be necessary, as three men exit the building as you approach. Two haggard looking men serving as bodyguards for the third, an older man dressed in the ornate armor of the Church's Speaker (Baerdog7).

"Hello. You are Ander, I presume? Tyberius, Knight-Commander of the Order of the Star. This is Welkin, Knight-Captain, but I believe you may already know of him."

Tyberius gestures to you.

"And this . . . is Lukina, a very special young girl."


Gorgondantess

At your question Nihilus quirks an eyebrow.

“For her? You might even convince him to do a little song and dance, assuming he isn’t already going to be doing a little jig at the thought of having one of Miriam’s archangels under his thumb. That’s been a dream of the Fiend Lords as a whole for a very long time. Assuming he can keep her, I imagine that there will be a significant shift in the power structure of the Hells as a result. Or perhaps not – depends on whether or not they’ll believe that she is the real Hephestia. I will, of course, vouch for her . . . authenticity to Zareth.”

For a former archangel, Hephestia didn't seem like much, her efforts to pry herself free from your shoulder no better than any other human - which is to say, completely ineffectual.

"I thought you weren't going to allow this!? You promised!"

She cried out, digging her fingers into the flesh of your shoulder. You suppose that would have hurt if you had actually been human, but then you weren't human and with a minor bit of effort hardened the skin there to the point that Hephestia couldn't even dimple it with all her meager strength.

Nihilus closes both portals and then tears a new one open. Through this one you can see a different slice of the Hells waiting for you, this one a strange assembly of gears and machinery.

“Go. I will catch up with you momentarily.”

Nihilus says, leaving you with little alternative but to step through the portal with Hephestia over one shoulder or fly away. You decide to step through the portal, thrown off-stride for just a moment when Hephestia manages to twist enough in your grasp to bring her knee up into your face. The force of the blow sent your head snapping back, causing you to stumble back a step. But it was only a step, and no permanent damage was done. A moment later and you are through the portal to find yourself in the middle of a cacophony of grinding gears and screams. A short distance away an immense tower looms over you, assembled from pumping pistons and turning gears. Hephestia relaxes at this point, seemingly surrendering to her fate now that she was trapped in the Hells as the portal fades shut behind you.

"Do you even know what they're going to do to me? Do you even care?"

Hephestia mutters sullenly. She looks up at the machine tower with a mixture of dread and resignation.

"At least if you were giving me to Mammon there would be a chance he would get overzealous and kill me early. But torture is one of Zareth's specialities. He'll want to break me with an audience, and he'll want to make a show of it. Savor it for as long as he can."

Hephestia, unable to do anything effective, spits in your face.

"I hope that whatever you're hoping to gain from this, Zareth tricks you out of it."

(The Spirit has a few moments alone with Hephestia if there's anything you want to say to her in private.)

As promised, a few moments later another portal opens and Nihilus steps out. He nods at the tower of machinery.

“There’s Zareth’s fortress, an immense clock tower designed to count down the end of the mortal world, when the Hells shall reign supreme over all. I’ve heard he’s had to manually set the clock back on a great number of occasions. Apparently Zareth is currently away, attending some sort of meeting with the Black General and several of the other devil lords, but I assume he will returning shortly. Shall we go? Unless, of course, you’re having second thoughts.”

Nihilus examines you and the archangel closely, as if trying to puzzle something out.

“This is likely your last chance to turn back. Once we make the offer to Zareth, I suspect he’s going to go to any length to claim Hephestia, whether you give her up willingly or not. Fortunately, Zareth can be quite pragmatic if he doesn’t let his emotions get control of him, which thankfully does tend to be a rare occurrence. He might also appreciate having a show put on for him - this is Hephestia the Adjudicator after all, not a sack of grain that you are delivering.”

"Call me Heph."

Hephestia says with a doomed sigh.

Phaedra

Lonna

Titania thinks a moment on your explanation of Wulfric’s presence, and then nods.

“Ah yes, the cur who attacked you. He slew one of my valued servants as well. Rest assured that he shall see his punishment, from now until the end of days! At least, he will once our kingdom is once more established upon the realm of mortals!”

As you explained what little you remembered of your life as Pyria, your attention is brought back to the orb by Titania hissing in rage. You catch a glimpse of Dariel clutching at a nose stained blue with his blood, and then Wulfric backing away while threatening Mar with an icicle. A few moments later, and Dariel’s voice echoed through the hall.

“My queen, shall I destroy this interloper? His threat is an empty one, but he may damage the gods’ whore nonetheless.”

“Dariel, you idiot! This is all your fault!”

Titania growled, backhanding the orb free from the throne to send it flying back against the wall and shatter.

“Stand down, lest your incompetent bungling manage to make the situation even worse! I will handle this – myself!”

Titania declares, pushing herself up from her throne angrily. As she gets to her feet, for a moment the fey queen’s legs buckle, and she is forced to brace herself against her throne for support. This gives you a much needed moment to try to temper her rage. Although she still looks ready to re-ignite with fury at any moment, your voice seems to be the one balm that can affect her. After a few moments of thought, Titania slowly nods.

“Very well, my daughter. Because you have asked this of me, I will grant you your request. But if you are unable to convince him to graciously accept my hospitality . . .”

Titania leaves the threat unspoken as she gestures, and the floor of the throne room responds as the ice melts away to leave a stairway going down. Taking the clear invitation, you walk towards the stairs, but are forced to stop when Titania lays one chilling hand on your shoulder.

“I will be coming with you, however.”

Together, the two of you carefully make your way down the steps into the darker depths of the castle, Titania leaning against you for support on a number of occasions. You are unsure if Titania’s weakness is a symptom of sitting upon her icy throne for too long, or if it suggests a more serious problem.

The stairs eventually lead down to a solid wall of ice. Titania gestures, and suddenly the ice shifts to a clear, thin wall of ice. On the other side you can see Wulfric and Mar, examining the room they are currently in and perhaps trying to find a better place to hide despite the fact that it’s clearly impossible to hide from Titania in her own castle. As you watch, Wulfric offers his heavy cloak to the angel girl, and you can hear his voice faintly through the ice.

“Do you want to borrow it for a little bit? Need to keep your muscles warm for all the running, fighting, and staying alive that we’re about to be doing.”

“You may speak to him, and he will hear you.”

Titania explains.

“But I think it unwise to allow him to see you at the moment. He would not be able to comprehend your glory.”

The Past Age

WhiteKnight777

“I see . . . well, whatever will make her very dead and gone, more so than she already is technically.”

Nihilus says distractedly, looking out over the city. His gaze focuses on something in the distance, and he absently reaches out to open a portal.

“Let’s go. I’ve been keeping an eye on Marialta’s ship in the event that she shows up there. Of course, who knows what she’s managed to accomplish between the time you first arrived here and she revealed herself to us. As I said earlier, I think it would be safe to assume that she has her own key and Fianna’s now, and we will need to endeavor to prevent her from getting a third.”

Stepping through the portal, you are nearly struck by a body as it flies through the air past you and crashes into a wall just behind you. You hear the familiar voice of Gilgaem roar out a moment later, “That’s what you get when you don’t come here looking for a real fight! Now, who wants to be next!?”

Nearby, your old friend and rival stands in the middle of a circle of hooting and cheering onlookers. He has both arms at the moment, a sight which brings back memories of the two of you fighting back to back, in the days before your city was founded. Ah, those were simple times then, when all you had to worry about was fiends trying to claim you body and soul, and none of this time-travel nonsense.

Nihilus appears beside you, and it seems no one has noticed you thus far. He nudges you and points to the roof of a building that looks down on the circle of fighters below – one which has its own crowd of onlookers watching the fighting from above.

“That seems like a good place to wait to descend on her whenever she makes her move – if indeed she does. I’ll keep up a search of the city in the event that she tries somewhere else instead. Which means I should probably stick close to you so we can move at a moment’s notice. Do you need to do any sort of set-up work to prepare the grounds for these rituals? Or do you think that doing so might risk tipping Marialta off as to our presence?”


The Mortal Realm

A Stretch of Forest in the Barony of Gast

TechnOkami/daelrog

Good-byes are said by both groups, and soon it is only Alons and Rosenberg left that would be traveling to the besieged city. Technically, they would not be traveling alone, however – the caravan master had hired on a number of desperate mercenaries to serve as protectors. But these sorts were not prone to be very talkative, even if they were not scum of the earth. But as night fell completely over the camp, a lone carriage came riding up. Having reached their intended destination, the driver descended from his seat and opened the carriage’s door, allowing its occupant to step out into the night air.

The woman who descended from the carriage was breathtaking, and the journey here did not seem to have taken any of her beauty away. She wore a long-hemmed, multi-layered red dress, the inner folds of the skirt shifting from reds to oranges to yellows, and looking like flames dancing around her legs as she moved. Her golden hair would have likely fallen down to her waist if left loose, but at the moment it barely reached her shoulders, the rest of it gathered at the back of her head in a bun held in place by gold pins. Beyond the wealth of her dress, her poise as she swept her emerald eyes across the assembled crowd suggested that she was of noble birth, which she confirmed a moment later.

“I am the Countess Amelia Ashargrin! I have come here because I was given to understand that this convoy is bound for the city of Amaranth. It is my intention to journey to the besieged city as well. Would any of you like to accompany me as my bodyguards?”

From the crowd of bodyguards, someone calls out.

“Hey, I heard that name ‘fore! Ain’t you the Crippled Countess!?”

A loud guffaw breaks out from the group as Amelia goes very still, her face starting to flush.

“That was a vile rumor spread by those who wished to do me harm. As you can plainly see, there is no truth to such rumors.”

“Can I! How about you accompany me to my bed instead?”

Another heckler called, and the Countess’s face flushed to a new shade of crimson. For a moment it looked as if the Countess was have a reply for that one as well, but then through sheer force of will she seemed to calm herself. Instead, after an exhaled “fine” the Countess whirled and stepped back into her carriage.

“Worthless spoiled bitch. The Liberator’ll topple her soon enough.”

One of the other thugs growled, prompting yet another of the thugs to elicit another round of raucous laughter with a “I’d like to topple her myself!”.

(You are welcome to choose to go over and interact with the Countess or dismiss her as the other mercenaries have done. More importantly, I would like you to describe your preparations for when the caravan sets out tomorrow morning. Are the two of you volunteering to go out front and be the ambush magnet? Hanging back with the main body of the caravan and letting the prawns – er, pawns go first? Enacting some sort of decoy plan of running through the woods and making a bunch of noise to distract the elves from the caravan also passing through? Sipping drinks with the Countess in her carriage and talking about the weather while everyone else dies horribly around you? Tell me what your plans on how to get to the city are. )

The Besieged City of Amaranth

GuyFawkes

At your offer of discussing Ross’s story some time, the former paladin grins.

“Aye, although we’ll need many bottles to last us until the end of that story!”

At this, Ashley’s wrinkles her nose and waves her hand in front of her nose.

“I think you should probably cut back on the drinking, uncle, not more. You are starting to resemble this city’s sewers.”

“Feh, that was only because I was sleeping in them! I can hold my drink pretty well these days lass. You needn’t concern yourself about me.”

This argument put a sour note on the conversation, and it was a few awkward moments before Ashley spoke up again.

“As for the elves, we are unsure of their numbers. They outnumber our contingent certainly, but perhaps not all of this city’s defenders put together. Of course, I wouldn’t put a lot of faith in the city militia’s ability to hold the elves back – most of them are farm hands with very little experience in battle. There’s also the fact that the elves are able to summon a seemingly endless supply of spirits, fire elementals in particular, to bolster their ranks.”

Ashley shrugs.

“So far they haven’t attacked the city directly, seeming to prefer merely keeping it isolated and unable to acquire supplies. They hit many of the surrounding villages first, and those that survived those attacks came here. Perhaps they are hoping that we will tear ourselves apart – certainly unrest is rising as more people grow desperate. I haven’t seen any reports on the elves having siege weaponry, so I certainly don’t know how they would expect to assault the city without it descending into anarchy first. Unfortunately, they have done a good job at killing anyone we send out to scout the surrounding forest, so we have no idea as to the location of their base of operations. We’re safe behind the walls and they’re safe hidden in the forest. It’s a stalemate essentially, and one that we will eventually lose.”

“Hrm. It would sound to me then that the most important things to accomplish are locating the bloody bastards, and bringing some food in. Noctis, what do you feel like doing, and which do ye think will end up for the most elves ending their day crushed beneath my hammer?”

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Nameless

Nameless bellows out.

"KATRINA! OVER HERE! HELP!"

He immediately turns back to the sinking woman and begins trying to lift her with all his might. Then he gets an idea. She started sinking after she started talking about self-pity. Maybe if he talked her out of it she'd be able to free herself.

"You're not stupid! You didn't let everyone down! C'mon! You're stronger than this, you can redeem yourself! Everyone can! I don't know who you are, but you helped me remember something I'd completely forgotten! That has to count for something! You showed me what I was! I'm one of you! PLEASE! Don't let your grief swallow you!"

He then tries to sing her song as loudly and clearly as possible, his rich baritone voice cutting through the music of the swamps. If Katrina didn't hear his cry for help, she'd probably hear this. It didn't matter if it brought more trouble. He couldn't let this person just die thinking she was worthless.

"The sun shall shine,
Through darkest cloud,
Following blackest night,
Again and again,
To fill the world with the light.

So don’t frown,
And don’t cry,
The Lightbringer smiles
Upon thee, Fear not,
The Sun shall shine."

[Baerdog7]

Speaker Ander Windrivver

Ander tries to tune out Hephestia's complaining while he inspects the disturbing new prophecy that decorates his bedroom floor. His distraction would prove tragic, however, as Hephestia's complaints turn to screams as the Stranger's tentacles her through a newly-formed portal.

No! Ander yells as he scrambles toward the rapidly-disappearing Hephestia. No, NO, NO! He dives for the closing portal a second too late, passing through nothing but air as it pops out of existence. Picking himself up, he rushes for the window and watches impotently as Nihlus, Hephestia, and the Stranger pass through another portal and out of his reach.

You ****ing bitch! You said you wouldn't harm her. You promised!

He falls to his knees and turns his despair toward the Heavens. Are you happy now, Miriam?! Is this what you wanted for your daughter?

Even as storm clouds brew in Ander's head, the clouds over Luxien lift and the sun shines triumphantly overhead. Then, carried on the breeze, comes a sound that clears the storms from Ander's mind: trumpets. Paladin trumpets. Confused, Ander once again approaches the window and there, at the edge of the city, he sees the victorious column of the Order of the Star marching into the city with their banners held high and their horns sounding a clarion call.

It looks like reinforcements have arrived, he says, turning to the two remaining paladins in the room. Straighten your uniforms, I want you two to be my honor guard. What are your names? As the two paladins straighten up and introduce themselves, Ander likewise changes out of his shredded tunic and into a fresh one.

Right. On me, then. As he marches down to meet the newcomers, Ander can't help but remember and old hymn that he used to enjoy.

The sun shall shine,
Through darkest cloud,
Following blackest night,
Again and again,
To fill the world with the light.

So don’t frown,
And don’t cry,
The Lightbringer smiles
Upon thee, Fear not,
The Sun shall shine.

[GuyFawkes]

Lucifuge/Noctis

"That can be arranged," he replied with a smile at Ross' remark on needing lots of bottles.

Upon hearing Ashley's overview of the situation, Noctis nodded. It had been something he expected; he has not heard of any sort of offensive happen in the few weeks he has been in the city. But to hear that they have not even pinpointed the elves' location.

I should have inquired of Aurewlynn such details before I sent her to the fort. Nevertheless...

"For a siege to be effective, one does not need to possess siege weaponry, as is evidenced by the current situation. Isolation and just waiting for the defenses to crumble over time. But for them to have the patience to employ such tactics displays the intent for total domination over your kind."

He paused to think.

"I commend your bravery, Knight-Lieutenant, but perhaps I could do something that would avoid that situation altogether. Or at least try. I will scout the nearby forests to try to locate these elves, and if possible, discuss with their leaders. It will most probably not happen as I would like it, but I think I have something to convince them to listen."

"Nevertheless, please prepare your men. Depending on what happens and what information I gather, a direct assault might be needed. If you could have them able to march by this day, that would be best. An unreasonable request, but if we are to hope for a victory, we would need to strike hard and strike fast."

"Very well, I shall take my leave." He looked at Ashley once again. "Is there any particular part where you think would best to start scouting? Somewhere with a particularly high incidence of attacks, or where you lost most of your previous scouts?"

After hearing Ashley's suggestions (if any), Noctis took his leave of the paladin camp and walked towards the nearest alleyway. After navigating through the side streets and reaching an empty cul de sac, he turned around to make sure no one was watching.

From a small pouch on his belt, he took out a small curious object; a feather. Holding it in his palm, he began chanting arcane words while drawing invisible patterns in the air before him with his other arm.

Upon finishing, it took a few seconds before a noticeable effect happened. Noctis' large human figure began shrinking slowly, his appendages slowly disappearing into his torso. His eyes began to become more circular, his nose and mouth jutted out into a beak, and from out of his skin, brown and white feathers started sprouting. In place of his now non-existent arms, wings sprouted out and his legs shortened into scaly ones, small claws could be seen where his feet should have been.

Above the rooftops of Amaranth, a small bird flew in a small circle before flying out and over the walls and headed for the forests.

[daelrog]

Alons

"I am beginning to like this land of yours better, friend." He calsped Rosenberg on the shoulder. "I lose a lily only to find a rose." He stood up and stretched his arms and shoulders out.

"Surely this Countess will need a dedicated bodyguard to the city, and as we are headed there I see no reason not be of assistance." He walked over to the carriage to follow the Countess. He did not open the door, but leaned his back against it, as if already acting the part of a bodyguard.

"My Countess, I know nothing of your past neither fair nor foul, for I come from a distant land. However, I can see a true strength and passion within you. It would be my honor to act as your defender until the city, if it pleases you."

He could not help himself, but smile as he spoke, turning his head slightly away from the window so she could not see how much he was enjoying the prospect.

Spoiler

Show

Alons's plan is to stay with the Countess. He will hope is to subtley charm her, but he won't press the matter if she shows no interest in him beyond anything professional. When travelling, he will prefer to stay outside the carriage, moving alongside it so he can have a clear view of his surroundings, staying in the carriage only to eat meals.

[Inspectre]

(Special DM for Baerdog7, as his post got delayed due to questions about Hephestia, thus preventing him from posting on time. Also, this will let him link up with Kasanip right now.)

Baerdog7

You gather up the two men, who seem to be even more shaken about what just transpired than you. One of them spares a nervous last glance at the writing burned into the floor, and then you all set out to meet the arriving Order of the Star. You manage to make yourself halfway presentable, although given the circumstances the Order's representatives will probably understand if no one is looking at their best. Quietus's soul crystal feels warm in your pocket, reminding you that there is yet one more thing that you shall have to decide what to do today.

On your way out of the room you encounter Ysora.

"My sister is better now but it will take awhile for the scars to heal. Perhaps in a day or two she will be well enough for us to speak with her about her experiences - perhaps she will have learned something we can use. Randall and the others are safe - Tyra should make a full recovery as well. Do you know where Hephestia is? I've been looking for her and wanted to make sure that she is alright before I go with you to greet our arriving guests."

Ysora clearly finds the answer on your faces, as she slumps back against the wall.

"Hephestia is gone. My special sisters . . . Genevieve . . . Marisiel . . . Hephestia . . . they're all gone. They've all been taken from me."

In a surprising flash of anger, Ysora suddenly lashes out, driving her fist through the stone wall. The minor damage that the blow causes to her hand instantly heals. Struggling to control herself, Ysora shakes her head and turns away to move down the hallway.

"I need to be alone right now."

She says, diving out a window and flying off. You soldier on, and as you exit the Council Chambers building you find a delegation approaching the building. Two men and a younger woman (Kasanip) who holds your attention for a moment longer than would be expected. There was just . . . something about her that your finely honed senses were picking up.

The older man speaks up first.

"Hello. You are Ander, I presume? Tyberius, Knight-Commander of the Order of the Star. This is Welkin, Knight-Captain, but I believe you may already know of him."

Tyberius gestures to you.

"And this . . . is Lukina, a very special young girl."

[Kasanip]

Lukina
Luxien, The Cathedral City

Lukina felt a little more relief as the sunlight returned. How much better it was to have the sunlight, it's comforting and reassuring warmth. Even aching muscles could feel a little rejuvinated.
Even if the scene was horrible to see. Tyberius' words were difficult, and As they walked along, Lukina felt the grimness wearying. She stumbled, but Welkin helped to catch her every time. "Thanks Welkin." Lukina murmured.

Of Tyberius' suggestion, Lukina nodded, and through that weariness that wanted to pull her down, she felt some hope too. And some astonishment.

I actually made it... I made it here to the Speaker...

She hadn't let herself fall into despair, and even in the difficult journey, somehow she had come here. She thought back to her family, and all of the people who had helped her. Burke, the blacksmith who had helped make the armor that had helped save her. Brother Adam's gift of the holy writings... Lukina realized with a small anguish that it had been left behind in the burning village. But the sword he had given had served her heroically. She touched the hilt as she walked beside the paladins, thanking the blade silently. And now Welkin and the paladins had helped her here. It seemed like it had been an age, and she had lived shattered memories of different times at night.

And now, she was here, looking up at the ornate armor and the Church's speaker, Sir Ander... Or Speaker Ander? Lukina honestly didn't know how to address him.

After all of this time with the goal to come, and to explain her story to the Speaker, to ask his help in her goal.

...How should I start?

Lukina was lost. Should she shake hands? Salute? She wasn't a paladin. What would an angel do? But her memories of Genevieve didn't help with that question. She thought to bow, but was afraid the motion would make her dizzy. And to collapse in front of the Speaker would not make it easier to explain.

She took a deep breath and straightened painfully, with an earnest and determined and solemn expression to meet the eyes of the Speaker.

"Nice to meet you. I was hoping for a long time I could meet you, sir. My name is Lukina Marcellis." She paused, awkwardly aware how this must look, as the ruins of the city after a battle. But she couldn't stop now. "It may not be the best time, and I know it is hard to believe. But I was, am, also Genevieve, servant of Our Lady Miriam the Valkyrie. I can remember in my dreams and nightmares some things... But a lot of it is clouded." She fought against the desperate feeling of hope she had. "I know it is difficult to believe. But I am not lying. I hoped that the paladins, who are always faithful and loyal servants of Our Lady, can help me."

She wanted to say more. The words were coming quickly now, and confusing probably.


(Ooc: Sorry it is very quickly many things for Baerdog7, please feel free to interrupt, or such a thing. )

[Vegna]

Mal Harath

Mal decides that the elf is a slightly more immediate threat, and with him out of the way, the elves might surrender or at least be de-moralised. Plus, he didn't want to find an arrow in his back while he tried to figure out how to fight a wall of fire.

He swings the spear in his hands, flinging it out towards the captain, in an effort to distract his effort to draw his bow. The man charges the elf, trying to keep the fight at close range with a dashing one-two punch, tackling into the captain.

[Baerdog7]

Speaker Ander Windrivver

Ander can only look on as Ysora flies away to grieve. He could imagine what she was feeling all too well but didn't have time to dwell on it at the moment; there were, after all, newcomers to welcome. Setting his jaw, he heaves open the huge main doors of the Council Building and marches out to greet the approaching delegation.

((Ander is actually not in armor right now. He still hasn't found a suit to replace the one Miriam gave him which was damaged at Narle, but I think I've worked out an idea to get him outfitted again. ))

Even unarmored and dirty with blood and battle-grime, the Speaker is an impressive sight. He is broad shouldered and square jawed, though not quite as tall as Lukina imagined. His silver hair and mustache indicate that he is a man of advanced age but his body is sculpted by decades of battle and shows no evidence of frailty. In fact, he seems to be in better physical shape than the two paladins that form his honor guard. Mysterious runes criss-cross all of Ander's visible skin, possibly as a result of some magical ritual or torture. His pants are dirty from battle, but Ander seems to have changed into a fresh white tunic with gold trim before meeting his guests. This silver holy symbol around his neck shines in the sunlight and the breeze plays with the red and gold cape hanging from his shoulders.

Knight-Commander Tyberius, Knight-Captain Welkin...welcome to Luxien. He announces, saluting the paladins. And welcome to you too, Miss Lukina, he says, bowing. I am Ander Windrivver.

"Nice to meet you. I was hoping for a long time I could meet you, sir. My name is Lukina Marcellis." She paused, awkwardly aware how this must look, as the ruins of the city after a battle. But she couldn't stop now. "It may not be the best time, and I know it is hard to believe. But I was, am, also Genevieve, servant of Our Lady Miriam the Valkyrie. I can remember in my dreams and nightmares some things... But a lot of it is clouded." She fought against the desperate feeling of hope she had. "I know it is difficult to believe. But I am not lying. I hoped that the paladins, who are always faithful and loyal servants of Our Lady, can help me."

Ander raises his eyebrows in surprise and his steely blue eyes seem to pierce Lukina as she speaks.

A very special lady indeed. I would love to learn more about you, Lukina. I'm sure Ysora would as well, but that will have to wait. She desires...solitude...at the moment. I would also like to know what good fortune brought the Order of the Star here today. It must have been a long journey to Luxien.

Ander looks away to survey the damage to his city and sighs. I should inspect the damage to the city. Are you all able to walk and talk or would you prefer to find a place to sit and talk about things?

[Gorgondantess]

Hephestia, unable to do anything effective, spits in your face.

"I hope that whatever you're hoping to gain from this, Zareth tricks you out of it."

She sets Heph down here, not heeding her words or her spit, and looks her in the eyes.
"I understand what he does to his captors. In fact, that is the reason I chose to take you after all. This fiend- Zareth- he has someone very dear to me. So dear that I chose to capture you- against my better judgement- in order to expedite her release. I am sorry- it was not my intention to bring harm to anyone."
She smiles.
"Chin up, though. Zareth might try to cheat me, in which case I'll make sure he won't lay his hands on you out of spite."

"...Unless, of course, you’re having second thoughts."

"Second thoughts? You have not only brought me to hell, but told me the exact location of the one I seek. No, I am not having second thoughts. Not now, not later, not until my business has concluded here.
...I have to ask, though. You do not strike me as a particularly... altruistic individual... and yet you give me such aid, while asking nothing in return. Why? I cannot help but suspect there might be some ulterior motive here."
Regardless, she has little choice but to accept Nihilus' aid and hope he's on the level.
"Anyways... you mentioned something about a task you'd have me do. I can imagine one who can create portals at will would be a useful companion, so speak- what is it you would have me do?"

"...He might also appreciate having a show put on for him - this is Hephestia the Adjudicator after all, not a sack of grain that you are delivering.”

"Hmmm... I will see what I can do."
She takes Heph aside, creating suitable vessel and ornamentation for such a prize. As she works she has a subtle smile on her face, seeming content, and even tries speaking to Heph. "Tell me- have you ever met an angel by the name of Maurice?"
It takes scant minutes to finish, but the contrast is startling.
For Hephestia, she adorns her in vestments of vibrant, colourful feathers: reds, blues, purples and greens, with feathered bangles on her wrists and ornaments in her hair. She even gives her a pair of wings, matching the colour scheme of course. On her neck is a golden collar, connecting to a golden chain, connecting to a golden cage. A birdcage. The cage is all made of gold filigree, each bar a different and unique, infinitely delicate, impossible pattern of spirals and spindles. It comes to a domed top, from which extends a point of glistening diamond. Within the cage Heph sits on a perch suspended from the ceiling, too cramped to take any other position.
A pretty little cage for a pretty little bird.

[Dorizzit]

Korram Alstan

Korram hits the ground somewhat unsteadily after Miranda's focus shifts to the other angel. Landing in a kneeling position, Korram rises to his feet and dusts himself off. He looks up from his work to see Melissan's critical gaze and extended hand. Hurriedly, he accepts the hand and shakes.

"Just Korram, please."

Before he can say anything else, the angels engage in a brief but heated argument, ending with all three looking to him for his opinion.

"The invaders were acting out of desperation. I don't know if they all had the same reasons, but the leader of the group I talked to was only there because it would spare his family from being tortured. If I had to guess, I wouldn't be surprised if there were others who were offered relief for themselves...or volunteered in order to curry favor."

Korram wrinkles his nose momentarily at the last thought.

[Tae]

Yet more Modest Mouse ((I didn't post a video with lyrics because I'm pretty sure no one can agree what the hell he's saying. It's more just the feel of the song that I like.))

“Dirge’s withered balls,” Brambled murmured. Her squadmates, old and new, were looking at her. She hated being looked to for anything other than a good time.

“Hey, hey Bramble, I can help!” chirruped Mouse.

“Aye, ye can. Go pop into their vision – quick-like – and keep popping in and out farther and farther away. They’ll most likely follow you.” At least I hope they will.

“Really?!”

“Don’t make me repeat m’self”, Bramble growled.

Malarkey’s thick hand reached around apparent thin air near Bramble’s shoulder, eliciting a squeak from the imp.

“DO NOT GET CAUGHT.”

Small, deep scratches appeared on Malarkey’s hand as Mouse struggled to get free of his grip.

Bramble eyed the uniformed humans ahead of her. They were seconds away from fully taking in the scene. She pulled from her vest a table dagger pilfered from the cultists’ lair and passed it up to Mouse.

“If you’re caught, Mouse, go home. Do you understand me?”

The squad heard a gulp, and then a sigh from Mouse as Malarkey returned his bloodied hand to his side.

“Yeah Bramble, got it.”

“Good, now go!”

Mouse’s weight left Bramble’s shoulder, and seconds later, the guards and nobility began shouting.

“What was that?!”

“I don’t know.”

“LOOK! There it is again!”

One of the guards pulled his sword from its scabbard and pointed. “That way!”

The guards and nobility turned and hurried after what was presumably a disappearing, reappearing imp with a dagger.

The cultist gave a chill smile. “Good to see you’ve no sentimentality when it comes to your comrades-in-arms, sapper. Do you think he can lead them on a merry little chase forever?”

Bramble sidled closer to the cultist and leaned down to put her nose inches from his. Her lips curved in a cold grin of her own, and exhaled sulfurous breath through clenched, pointed teeth.

“Mouse has his instructions. If he’s caught, he’ll go home. Your people will bring him back. No harm done.” Bramble’s grin took on a malignly cheerful aspect. “’Sides, you haven’t seen part two.”

“Bramble, no…” Catbox groaned.

“Oh, yes.”

Bramble looked around the alleyway. The cobbles beneath her burlap-sacked hooves. The painfully bright sky above her horns. The feeling of deja-vu washed over her again, poorly articulated, an irritant. She rubbed her hands down her face, trying to push it away.

Without warning, she shoved two clawed fingers down her throat, bent over, and began coughing.

The cultist’s face became a mask of shock and disgust.

“What is wrong with her?” he exclaimed.

“The bitch has no gag reflex left.” Malarkey chuckled, grabbed Bramble by the back of the neck and repeatedly shoved his fist into her belly.

The cultist jumped back from the fiends as vomit splattered the cobbles. Bramble knelt down and began scooping it into her yet-to-be-relinquished mug.

“We can obtain more beer for you if you require it, Master Bramble.”

“Nah, I just needed what was in my gut.”

Bramble raked a finger through her teeth, drawing blood, and allowed it to drip into the mug. Finally, she scraped some dirt and gravel from the road and packed the mug solidly with it, shaking it up violently until it was a compacted mix of vomit, blood, and gravel, solid enough not to spill easily. She looked at Catbox.

“I need a cap.”

“You should have brought some.”

Bramble frowned. “That’s your job. You can’t do what I do, so you bring the caps.”

“Yeah, well, after we get into this shop, I won’t need you to do what you do. In fact, I won’t need you at all. You think you’re better than me, but you’re not, Bramble.”

“Really?” Bramble’s voice became soft, dripping poison honey. “You won’t need me Kitty-Catbox?”

“No,” said Catbox, drawing herself up to her full height. “You never did nothin’ for me anyway. It was always ‘Catbox, where’s the caps?’ ‘Catbox, where’s the firestarter?’. I’m not your Ix. I’m just as smart as you are. Smarter, anyway. Wasn’t me that had to make enemies outta the whole squad was it?” Catbox’s eyes glinted with sudden malice.

“You’re right Cat’. You’re not my Ix. But ‘til ye met me, you was everyone elses’.” Bramble’s voice took on a rasping, seductive quality. Like a whore with a sharp knife hidden between her thighs. “Keep pushing and you’ll find out ‘xactly what it’d be like to be my Ix. I been looking for a way to test my new designs.”

Catbox smirked. “You can’t fight, Bramble. Stop acting tough, it ain’t you. In fact, keep it up, and I’ll remind you just how tough you ain’t.”

Bramble moved in close to Catbox, dropped her voice even lower, and whispered in her ear. “I know ‘bout your hatchlings Cat’. You know, those three little Ix’s yer tryin’ t’ protect. Tryin’ t’ keep ‘em from actin’ as weak as you did I guess? All I need’s a word t’ Skullcruncher…hells, even Turbine might make nice with me if I told him ‘bout those. Then not only would YOU be my Ix. I’d be blowin’ up yer little ones too. Now hand me a cap, and aye, the damn firestarter too.”

Clawed hand shaking, Catbox reached inside her robe for the cap and starter. Fumbling, she dropped them to the ground. As she bent to pick them up, Malarkey noticed something hot and wet sizzle against the cobbles. The look she gave Bramble was a mixture of fear, jealousy, and something else.

A promise of revenge.

Bramble sighed, pushing away more deja-vu, equally annoying albeit more easily understood. Another friend made enemy in the rat-race of the hells. She rolled her shoulders and neck, trying to release some of the tension of the past few hours. It was, of course, pointless. Things were bad and getting worse. As usual.

The cultist frowned. “Whatever ARE you doing?”

“What I’m good at, human. Making a bomb.”

Bramble shoved the cap down into the mixture in her mug, lit the fuse and handed it silently to Malarkey, who was looking at her thoughtfully. Catbox wasn’t a fiend easily cowed. He was deeply curious as to what Bramble’d said to drag acid from the big demon’s eyes. He’d grown used to thinking of the skinny red sapper as nothing more than an oddity, a devil that also happened to be full of explosives. Apparently, he’d have to watch her more carefully.

Thinking all that, he threw the mug hard in the direction opposite the one Mouse had gone. Some distance away a viscous cloud of smoke appeared. Moments later, the sound of the detonation reached them.

Bramble grinned. “Great! Now they’ll be running in both directions. Can we go look at my new toys now?” She shouldered past Catbox without a glance and took the cultist’s arm.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

The former Lord of Blood gave Nihilus a grin as he stepped through the portal. "Just lately, it seems like dead isn't sticking so well. You know, in my day, when I killed somebody, they stayed dead unless I damn well told them to get up again." He paused. "Mostly. And even then, it was just a damned zombie. Although I suppose this is my day, come to think about it. This day, of all days." He sniggered nastily at the thought, remembering his youth with a mixture of fondness and irritation for how... short-sighted he'd been. He really had failed to take into account one crucial fact: Nothing was forever, even immortality. In the end, you fought death not because you were alive, and because raging against the dying of the light was what made life worth living. Well, that and Fianna. And sex, and crushing your enemies beneath your heel. Oh, and good books and good wine. And there was always...

He shook his head. More damn digressions. He didn't seem to be able to stop himself getting lost in his own head these days. The price of too many memories. "Anyway, yes. what I have in mind should do allow us to neutralize her. Of course, Kartul will probably notice that they're missing. Bugger the corpse-humping bastard with a holy symbol." Umber said with casual contempt.

Umber noted the observation point that Nihilus had pointed out, and made his way over to it, carrying the ritual items. Luckily, he didn't need to have the sapphire out yet, and the other stuff shouldn't attract too much attention given how occupied the crowd was. As he ascended into a position overlooking the event, he casually slipped the forced bone rod into his sleeve, like a man intending to cheat at cards securing his hidden ace. Although in point of fact Umber rarely cheated at cards, and usually did so only when it was an expected part of the game, as was the case in some of the more low-rent places he'd been in his long and eventful life.. Cheating at games had always struck Umber as missing the point. It was life you were supposed to cheat at.

With his first weapon-of choice in place, he looked at Nihilus and shook his head "I'm as prepared as can be, given the circumstances. Just a word of advice, though - if you see me about to open the flask, do make sure you aren't in front of me. Actually, being well away from me would be the best option at that point." There was a merry glimmer in Umber's eye as he said it, but one look at the expression on his stolen face told you it was the sort of joke that was always on someone else.

He turned, watching Gilgeam. Umber was surprised at the complexity of his own emotions. Despite all that he knew the man was a traitorous bastard who coveted Umber's beloved, he was also a friend. And what's more, a friend who had lost his own lady-love in no small part because of Umber's actions. For a moment, there was a temptation there to intercede and change the track of Fate. Not to push, but to nudge... to encourage Gilgeam down a slightly different path. Perhaps a road where the ship did not burn, and where Gilgeam and Marialta could go together down that long and wending path through the ages. But... this was not the place, nor the time. He would find a moment where he could make his change, aye, but his earlier experience with his younger self had showed Umber that time or Fate or whatever force ruled this strange shadow of a past did not brook interference lightly. He would have to find the right moment, or make it for himself.

[OverWilliam]

~Tare

Tare should not have been at all surprised by Videle's violent reaction-- he certainly wasn't caught off guard by her pure strength --but the suddenness of her attack went straight through his every thought of defense. Before he could think to call upon lightning to counter-attack, Videle had poleaxed him against the wall-- and then, with spooky comprehension of his new body's apparent function, Tare was rendered paralyzed.

Under the next onslaught of threats, violence dripping from every word, Tare found that they had the opposite effect of that which had seemingly been intended; like metal hardened in the hottest corner of the fire, Videle's vitriol only steeled his determination to rise above her-- to not become her as half of his soul now desperately craved to do.

You are pathetic and you are wrong. You won't break me. Some day someone might-- but it's not going to be you.

These thoughts brought an infuriating calm to Tare's face as he stared down the demoness without the slightest concession to fear.

And he was even able to hold it until she left the room. Just barely.

Tare's trip through the Screaming Dark Estate further cemented in Tare's mind the horrors that Videle embodied. The place was almost home-y with Vylethar in charge; highly narcissistic, but comfortable enough anyway.

Speaking of the Devil...

“Hahaha . . ugh . . . hah! So good to see you again!”

Tare bristled within his metal and rope bindings. Of course it was the one person he wanted to see the least.

“So . . . still planning on torturing me for eternity? Or is this . . . ugh! . . . painful enough for you already?”

The powerful words of his oath to bring torment upon Vylethar came back to Tare's mind. "It's a start." In the back of his mind, the little demon only wished that he could claim authorship of the succubus' torture. Being able to witness it would have to do for now, though. "I said what I did out of ignorance. From what little I've learned in the time intervening, it would almost seem that unmaking you would be doing you a favor."

Tare began probing the inside of his personal prison once more, trying to decide on the best way to proceed. "You shouldn't have touched her, Vylethar. That was your only real mistake. Until that point, you never did a thing against me personally-- and what you did could almost have been considered part of your duty. Your responsibility as the Slave that you really are. Truly, until that moment I'd done more to offend you than you'd ever done to me-- until you laid a finger on that little girl. Now, knowing how little choice you've ever had, I'm almost sorry that it has to be done. But I have to destroy you. It's not a matter of scores to settle or personal vendettas-- she simply won't be safe as long as you continue to exist. So I'm going to make sure that you don't." Tare's tone never drifted toward the intimidating, never held a tinge of anger or revenge. Only fact.

And I'm not going to accomplish that by sitting in this bell. What have I got to lose, really?

Tare took a deep breath, focused his thoughts, and began summoning the lightning...


(( Tare is going to essentially use an explosion of lightning to cleave the bell in half (or more pieces, if possible), starting with neutralizing the guillotine blade at his neck. ))

[Kasanip]

Lukina

As the Speaker bowed, Lukina hurriedly returned the greeting. Looking into the eyes of the Speaker was electrifying. She shivered, seeing something remarkable, the experience and power... It felt nostalgically comforting, but difficult to approach.

The name Ysora, however, was a traumatic feeling for her, as it resonated deeply in her mind. Lukina felt faint, and had to support herself on Welkin for the moment. She swallowed and urged her legs to hold.
"I would very much like to meet Ysora...." She recovered.

Ander looks away to survey the damage to his city and sighs. I should inspect the damage to the city. Are you all able to walk and talk or would you prefer to find a place to sit and talk about things?

"I can walk." She wanted to reassure with a determined expression. She looked to Tyberius and Welkin. she also didn't know the reasons for the Order of the Star's coming.

Spoiler

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OOC: I think Ysora's name would be important for Genevieve, but I'm not sure how much I should explain of old memories or [flashback] because that time history is better known by Inspectre, so I leave it for you.