Ascension of Aeternus Act 1: Unhealthy Peace

[Aldurin]

Ulwiss, Main Courtyard:

The first student shyly steps forward as others form a line behind her. More than half look at Mirabelle one more time before walking away, their fear, greed or other flaws telling them she shouldn't be approached.

(I'll assume the handshake is the martial lore test, and go with that just because it's a pretty cool way to handle it)

1. A pale-skinned woman in pale blue robes approaches. "I . . . I'm Saleria Lutin. I'm a human, 23 years old, and I want to help the world, learning as many means of helping it as possible." The handshake indicates no martial disciplines in her knowledge.

2. A strong-built man in green robes that poorly conceal leather armor beneath them. "I'm Nordu Fillatone. I'm a Karsite, 34 years old. My goal is to overcome my disadvantages from being unable to directly use magic, by learning other means to be stronger in a world that favors the mage." The handshake reveals no disciplines.

3. Another man, this one more frail and in dark magenta robes. "I'm Narek Wrimn. I'm an Elan, 25 years old. I want to learn everything, to be someone great that people recognize and adore for his capabilities." The handshake reveals no disciplines.

4. A woman in white robes. "I'm Sarah Vard. I'm a half-elf human, 40 years old. I want to understand the workings of the universe, including the subtleties that magic apparently can't grasp." The handshake reveals no disciplines, but Mirabelle feels her tattoos shiver halfway up her arm during it.

5. A man in blue robes whose mannerisms indicate a lack of self-confidence. "I'm, uh, I'm Mark Pertin. I'm a human, 20 years old. I . . ." He sighs and gathers his thoughts. "I hate magic, it's unreliable and reliant on many factors I can't control, but I learn it because it was the best option before me at the time. I want a power that is reliant on myself, so that the whims of the world around me don't leave me helpless." The handshake reveals no disciplines, but Mirabelle can feel a pervasive paranoia through his touch.

6. A man in armored robes. "I'm Lorfis Vowl. I'm a Snow Elf, 80 years old. I want to be stronger, to be powerful enough to make a difference in the world." The handshake reveals no disciplines.

7. A dwarf woman in yellow robes. "I'm Durvi Furnaldo. I'm a Seacliff Dwarf, 38 years old. I want to be someone, somehow, but I know I can't do that if I'm weak." The handshake reveals no disciplines.

8. A Thri-Kreen, mostly concealed by desert-style mage robes. "I'm Ch'tiko. I'm a Thri-Kreen, 40 cycles lived. I wish to better myself, so I may seek forgiveness from my clutch and have my exile revoked." The handshake reveals no disciplines.

9. A teifling man in black robes. "I'm Kirint Huldi. I'm a teifling, 35 years old. Someone told me years ago that I was never going to be anyone noteworthy. I want to prove her wrong, and return to impress her. But I need to be stronger to do that." The handshake reveals no disciplines, but upon contact the tattoos in her body seem to recoil from him.

10. A fire genasi woman. "I'm Cinda Xerall. I'm a fire genasi, 24 years old. I want to control my element, through all means possible, and be powerful enough that even the primal fire elementals bow to me." Her handshake is strong and aggressive, and Mirabelle detects an inkling of the Desert Wind discipline.

11. A heavily-tattooed raptoran woman, sporting many scenes and colors in her ink. "I'm Avari Yolvun. I'm a raptoran, 29 years old. I want to be the best artist in the world, and I know I can only do that by experiencing more and learning more." The handshake reveals no disciplines, but Mirabelle notices Avari's gaze look to her tattoos before looking back at her, though she can't tell what the raptoran thinks of it.

12. A halfling man, in blue robes. "I'm Mouvlen Mijil. I'm a halfling, 23 years old. My goal is to be the most powerful, most feared and revered person in the Material Plane." The handshake reveals no disciplines.

13. A human man with odd, dazzling eyes approaches. "I'm Bivarxul. I'm a prismatic dragon, 12 years old. I just use this form for convenience here. I have expectations to live up to, given my powerful lineage, and I want to meet and exceed them." As he shakes Mirabelle's hand she feels a splitting headache for a moment, and visions come. Brief flashes of cities and unsettled terrain, some majestic and some desolate. Nothing she recognizes from this age or the past era she comes from. She can't detect any disciplines. Bivarxul does not seem to notice the effect he has caused.

14. A kobold in fancier robes than the others, she speaks in rough common. "I Katchilu, kobold. I live for years 38, and seek to learn sorcery from many other. When I return to Fik, I use my learn to improve other, so they embrace sorcery good. You not use sorcery, but if I learn then I help Fik." Her handshake reveals no disciplines.

A few more people become nervous in the line, and they walk away, too.

15. A frail man who is almost completely concealed in surprisingly thick robes. "My name is Fetilla. My race is . . . it's complicated and I'd rather not say around the others. My age is technically 16, I guess. I want to make the best of life, even with the hardships it has inflicted on me." The handshake reveals knowledge of the Shadow Hand . . . but also no knowledge of any disciplines at the same time.

The line ends, some of those who walked away still linger in the distance, though they clearly do not want to approach for the time being.

[Cardea]

Mirabelle nods at each one in turn, smiling at each prospect. She responds to none individually, only meeting their eyes and gripping their hand firmly. Sarah Vard, Kirint Huldi, Avari Yolvun and Fetilla were intriguing, but nothing too concerning, she should think. She slips her glove and her gauntlet back on, the leather and metal forming like second and third skins. She switches in her state of mind, feeling these foreign spells pervade her memory again. She motions for them all to sit in front of her. "I am Mirabelle. I am an Errant Blademaster, a style that is lost to this world. I have been called Iktha. I have been called Ur-blade. I have been called Atha. I have been called Nuvilir. I have been called many names under the endless cycles of the sun. But you may choose, here, to name me Teacher. Curiously, some of you mention that you wish to exceed past a certain doubt you have left vague, or that you wish to overcome a fault in magic. I find this line of thinking of error, for it is in common with another. And right here, right now, I will give you your first lesson:

"The Path is not a kick. It is not a punch. It is not the first strike. It is not the final blow. It is not any one thing. It is not a form perfected, it is not a lesson learned. It is mentality. It is spirit. It is perfection of self, not reflection of form. A school is not a smattering of movements, a collection of ways to harm another. It is not meant for the tool of unthinking, of the unfeeling, of the blind. When you walk the Path, you may only walk. You may not stop, for your body will slowly forget. You may not run, for your mind will not keep up. I spend years beyond what any of you have may think watching the tools of Reshar be wielded clumsily, with no understanding, with no discipline. But am I mad? No. They have only mimicked the Path, they do not walk it.

"If you name me Teacher, if you wish to walk the Path, you must adhere to this: I am showing you the steps. I am showing you the Path. I am showing you not a punch, but flow. Not a kick, but effort. The first strike must be met with the first thought. The final blow must be met with purpose. What schools you learn, but disciplines you adhere to, you must understand them fully. They are not merely strikes, counters, attacks, defenses. They are ways of life. The first nine were Desert Wind, Devoted Spirit, Diamond Mind, Iron Heart, Setting Sun, Shadow Hand, Stone Dragon, Tiger Claw, White Raven Passion in movement. Faith in another. The perfection of mind. The perfection of body. Fluidity of self. Unseen force. Unstoppable self. Ferocity of animals. Trust in allies. That was what inspired them. That was what made them. When you follow a discipline, you must follow their ideal.

"I come here to help colleague with world crisis. I make case, I offer trade, and he threatens. He transforms self, and he restrains colleague and your First Brother and your First Sister," Mirabelle says, waiving to Korth and Renna. "So how do I respond? I respond with the Path. I fight him from all angles. I fight like the unstoppable wind. I am uncontrollable lightning. I am the hurricane. I am the flood." Mirabelle draws Lesson out, faster formal thought. "I am the storm." She draws lightning into Lesson, the sharp point and edge lengthening out, and slams it down in the same motion. It holds in the stone for a moment, the lightning extension leaving the rapier floating mid-air for a moment as it fades. She grabs Lesson with her other hand before it falls.

"The Path is everything. The Path is breathing and walking and blood and sweat and effort. It is not easy. You will not be the same. But you will come out stronger. And for those of you who say they must overcome magic, they must learn what magic cannot teach, I will only say this once more." Mirabelle pulls on the magic inside of her mind, feels the weight that she pulls off of Brint. She grows in size, her form sizing up and towering over those who sit. "Magic is understanding. Magic is a mentality. It is effort. It is sweat and blood. It is part of the Path. Brint would not have understood, because he is like thug who only mimics the Path. So I took his magic from him, because the Path is everything."

Spoiler

Show

Using Streak of Lightning for display. Casting Enlarge Person on self.

[Aldurin]

Olsworth:

All but one of the raptors calm down, passively hissing at Unity. The one that remains looks at the others, puzzled, before jumping over Unity and shoving the raptor on the other side. Both disappear in the same manner as the others from before.

Florikeme, Hallways:

The undead paladin strikes first, dashing into the group ahead straight for the friendly paladin. Though she flails her limbs like a zombie, there is far more force and precision involved in this case. She lands three strikes, and when the third connects the other paladin is launched farther down the hallway, falling prone. Two of the dark soldiers move in, one forming his limbs into a large blade on his right and a shield on his left, the other converting both hands into massive sharp claws. They both strike with ferocity, but the undead's wounds heal fast enough that it almost creates the illusion that she is made of liquid, only her armor retaining any gashes. At the end of their attacks the two soldiers recoil away as if their arms were burned. At this distance Gilana can tell that the sizzling noise is coming from the undead's equipment, all holy items trying to reject their owner.

Spoiler

Show

Initiative Order:
Enemy Paladin
Dark Soldier 2
Dark Soldier 1
Tyrene (Still undetected by everyone)
Gilana
Friendly Paladin
Dark Soldier 3

Ulwiss, Vefir's Lab:

"That's good, summoned creatures don't last long enough after death, if we can even summon them at this point." Vefir says as she uses a ring. After a moment's pause she speaks, "I have a constructor psion on the way, hopefully that will help us out . . ." She trails off as she looks into the Gate. "Is that a githyanki over there?" She points to a piece of debris, floating evenly between several of the devices roughly 400 feet out. A humanoid figure seems to be waving toward the Gate as it desperately clutches what looks like the remains of a githyanki ship. "We may not need that construct depending on how this plays out." She muses, her mannerism showing that she considers the survivor a test subject more than someone in need.

Ulwiss, Courtyard:

The group listens intently, staring in awe at Mirabelle's display. Korth coughs and gets Mirabelle's attention. "Who is Reshar? You mention his name, and his importance yet we don't know the history of him. Enough time has passed that you're the only remnant of the original era of the Sublime Way, so only you can preserve that time through our memories." A few of the others nod in agreement.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Lyra just kinda...stared wide-eyed at Vefir for a moment when she made that comment. Then her eyes narrowed in determination. The githyanki's presence among the minefield meant that even if they were triggered by proximity, it wasn't an overlapping field. There were ways through. "Vefir, I need you to lower the wall on my word. Or to get out of here now and I'll disintegrate it, either one works, but I'd prefer to conserve energy if possible," she said bluntly.

She drew her sword, cutting a quick gash along her arm. There was a particular rite she knew...it was technically blood magic, but it was the nicest form of blood magic she had ever heard of. She began chanting, charging her blood with positive energy; the injury healed, and her body took on a luminous glow from the energy now contained within. Another spell caused a brief glow of pale white light to surround her for a moment, before fading into quiescence. She finished with a single word and complex warding gesture, and her eyes shone briefly with bright light.

"Now," she said, if Vefir was still present. If she had left, or refused to lower the wall, Lyra would once again open an unstable gate that would destroy any matter or energy that shared its space.

And then, without any further hesitation, she would step through the Gate and into the Astral Plane, floating as carefully as she could between the mines towards the githyanki, trying to keep as far as possible from any given mine.

Spoiler

Show

It's not actually blood magic, but that's kinda the most sensical explanation I have here. I attack myself with my sword for (1d8+6)[12] (and if I roll a one, I'll do it again for another (1d8+6)[7]). That'll get my hit points low enough that when I then cast Heal on myself for 206 healing, the overflow can spill over to Temporary Hit Points from Extension of Life.

Then I'll cast Extended Fortunate Fate on myself, giving me a 206 point Heal if I'm brought below 0 hit points. And of course, I've got my Contingent Panacea on for 9d8+56 and status removal if I become unable to take standard actions.

And then I'll finish it all off with Delay Death and Death Ward. Which may or may not actually help me if it comes to that, but it's worth a shot anyway.

I...am fairly certain there's nothing Vefir could say that would make Lyra abort this course of action, but obviously this all assumes she doesn't interrupt me with, you know, magic or something.

Also, I'm fairly confident now that these things aren't triggered by proximity, but in case I'm wrong and the lowering of the wall does cause one that's near the Gate to explode, I'll use an Immediate action to cast Delay Death on Vefir.

And here we go. *Gulp*

Current Hit Points: 176/176. +194 Temporary.
Warmage Spells: 6/7/7/6/6/6/6/2/2. (-1 6th level slot if Vefir won't lower the wall and I have to disintegrate it).
Healer Spells: 6/8/8/6/4/6/5/4/2.

[Raunchel]

Tyrene looks at the dead paladin. She would love to just leave now, but she will need these Dark Soldiers, one has to survive for her to escape. That is a really unfortunate circumstance, fleeing is so much easier. But if attention must be drawn to her, she will do it like a true sirene. Beauty is the only true way. She has to play, but that requires both hands. No, she will sing, like only the Sarnillan may sing. It will not merely give her power, but also knowledge, and that is what she craves now.

"Fallen one come hear me now
Restless spirit make a bow
Pay tribute to your mistress
Find solace from your distress"

She appears when the song starts, and mystical forces fly from her hand as she strides towards the paladin. Death is her expertise, and the princess of the black seas will not be denied.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Once more knowledge religion: (1d20+27)[28] about the undead paladin
Tyrene strides to AV19 and casts command undead(CL22, if spell resistance: (1d20+24)[29]) Save DC 29.

[Ryuuk]

Reflexes make her step back as the paladin was thrown past her. Gilana draws, a small flash of anger as she touches the blade. It shed light as in the Complex, but dimmer. She hears the ding and turns the way of the sirene. If she could control her, all the better, but if not... Then there was the sizzling. Where they so holy and they so not? Questions, time ticking, doors closed.

"Tyrene, they are reanimating quickly, step away from the fallen!" Or not, perhaps she had some insight from her dolls, but if things were as bad outside as they seemed anyone that could oppose these creatures was invaluable. Are you in that category though? She shook her head, not those thoughts now.

Spoiler: (If it seems the undead brushed off Tyrene's control)

Show

Gilana steps forward, weaves in, weaves out, dancing just out of reach of the mockery's claws. Once she has her opening, she strikes thrice.

Free: Tumble (1d20+39)[59], (1d20+39)[42] vs DC 40, two 5ft each for 10 ft, activating Improved Skirmish. Moving through BO19, BN20, BN21 to BM19.

Full Attack: +27/+22/+17, would flank and deal skirmish damage, but undead would negate it.
Attack 1: (1d20+27)[28]
Damage: (1d8+13)[17]
Attack 2: (1d20+22)[32]
Damage: (1d8+13)[15]
Attack 3: (1d20+17)[36]
Damage: (1d8+13)[17]

Spoiler: (If it seems Tyrene now controls the undead)

Show

A small lapse. She leaves the new doll as is, instead heading back to the paladin that was thrown aside. "Are you all right?" She looks over the wound. He was as important as the dark soldiers, the people would obey a Paladin, and he was the link to the other groups. "If this is just one of them and they could hardly scratch them... If its a slaughter out there, and the raise quickly... they need to save who they can and get out."

Move: BZ19
Standard: Lesser Vigor on the Friendly Paladin

Mostly moving here to get between the Paladin and the NotPaladin. Also to make sure that the last bit of communication got through.

[Cardea]

"I had hoped that... his memory would remain." Mirabelle says, laughing, brushing her hair back. Her form shrinks back to her normal size, and she removes the armor on her left arm, piece by piece. Delicate, folded, molded plates of Mithril are removed; some by straps, others by hooks and hinges. The padded undercoat is unbuttoned, unfastened, unbound, and rolled up. She pushes her silk sleeve up, revealing the tattoo on her left forearm. It is moving. It is a silhouette, moving. It is a man surrounded by three, fighting. His arms move simply from one position to the next. Fire traces after him. Wind follows him. He is striking one man in the foot. He is pinning one man with his hand. The other man, struck by an unseen blow, is already fallen. The man is sitting. The man is sailing. The man is walking. The man is still again, in a stance.

"As Korth is First Brother, as Renna is First Sister, I was First Student. Reshar was my teacher." She pauses, and begins the process of redoing her armor. Sleeve. Undercoat. Plating. "In life, Reshar was a scholar, first and foremost. It is he who saw the Path in its shattered steps, scattered around the world, disconnected from one another. He traveled the world for a time, looking to train under Masters of every school, seeking those that would best unify the Path. He commanded skill that I have yet to dream of. But he was a scholar, neither tyrant nor ruler. He sought to learn, and to help others learn. And he did this. He did just this. He found the Masters in their homelands, and learned, becoming the Master himself. He did this with all the disciplines. And once he saw this, once he saw his deed done, he took another: He built the Temple."

Mirabelle smiles, and undoes the armor on her right arm revealing stonework and halls and rugs and furs and hundreds of men and women fighting, moving, eating, learning. One such figure stands near the man on the left arm, and it is Mirabelle. "When he took to travelling, to find the Masters, it was I who went with him. When he took to building, to gather the Master, it was I who built with him. When he took to teaching, to help the Masters, it was I who helped with him. He was the First Master of this Temple. I was the First Student. And together, we taught others the Sublime Way. And then, when time passed, nine Masters from his travels came to us. Desert Wind." The images change on her arm, showing a scimitar. "Devoted Spirit." A shield and mace appear next the scimitar. "Diamond Mind." A rapier. "Iron Heart." A bastard sword. "Setting Sun." An open palm. "Shadow Hand." A dagger. "Stone Dragon." A maul. "Tiger Claw." A claw. "White Raven." A battleaxe. "These nine Masters gathered to the Temple, swore to teach under Reshar's guidance, and thus the Temple became the Temple of the Nine Swords. Together, we taught for many, many years."

"A good Master, a good Teacher, remains with us, even after they pass. They guide, help and see that their students become better and better. At what they do, and with who they are. I was but a soldier, lost in a war in service to a King that none of you would ever know, for a land that has lost its name to time, when I first met him. That day, I became his First Student. And that day, the Path was opened to me. If I am to be your Teacher, I must be do for you what Reshar had done for me: Show you that the Path is open. That the Sublime Way is not a punch, a kick, a strike, a blow. The Sublime Way is how everyone lives, whether they know it or not. It is my duty to teach you this." She smiles, softly, taking them in view. "I know, this may seem daunting, but please, look on the bright side. You all are already in a school! When I first saw Reshar, I was in a tavern! With discipline and practice, you will achieve more than what I can do, in your own time." And she laughs, softly. "Tonight, I must see to my own research. Tomorrow, I wish to see each of you individually. Find me in the order you were in line. The day after that, we will begin. And if you have something urgent, and you need my help, seek me out. Do you have any other questions?"

[Derjuin]

Unity

Breathing a sigh of relief, Unity withdraws to the south, hoping to squeeze through the opening created by the disappearing raptors. As soon as she is out of the cave and has the space, she dashes into the air, hoping to get a better view of what was going on.

Spoiler

Show

Withdrawing as a full action to AH/AI 33, and ascending upwards as far as she can (80 feet if maximum speed)
Spot check, if necessary, to scout the area for unusualness beyond the raptors: (1d20+15)[34]

Sorry for the late post, I thought I had posted another response earlier

[Aldurin]

Olsworth:

As Unity ascends she sees three more raptors appear below her, hissing aggressively as they are out of range. As she looks back up over the hill she sees something on the horizon. It looks like a small moon, but given its reflective surface it looks like it's made metal. She can't be sure from her current distance, but it seems to look like its floating directly over Florikeme, though without a proper reference for the object's size she can't be sure how close to the ground it is.

Spoiler

Show

You survived! 4500 xp for making some progress in the fight against a single enemy. You're now free to travel again!

Florikeme, Second Floor:

The undead paladin stops and twists her head around toward Tyrene, the terrifying smile remaining. "Foolish half-dead." She growls, her voice indicating her mentality is more beast than person at this point. Gilana rolls past and makes her strikes, but recoils after the first one as her attack as the rapier does no lasting damage, instead conducting an arc of negative energy to the fey's hand that does 14 negative energy damage. The paladin that was launched across the hall stands up and casts a spell (Spellcraft DC 18 Dispel Magic), but no effect seems to be visible. The third dark soldier condenses his ooze into a muscular mass on his limbs as he throws a punch at the undead, throwing his weight in attempt to move the new combatant. The attack hits, but the undead paladin doesn't move and the dark soldier recoils like the others as the negative energy damages him. The undead turns and strikes Gilana, landing two slams dealing (3d6+23)[39] and (3d6+23)[32] bludgeoning damage each and 28 negative energy damage. In the split second between the two strikes, Gilana feels weightless. Then the second strike hits and launches her down the hallway towards Tyrene, fortunately she doesn't end up prone as her natural hovering saves her the fall.

Spoiler

Show

The slams are Bludgeoning&Magic for DR purposes. Negative energy isn't reduced.

Tyrene sees that the difference between this undead and the ones she's encountered in the past is simple, yet substantial. Radiating pure negative energy and seeming to be invincible to weapons, and her own influence.

Map repost for reference.

Ulwiss, Courtyard:

The new students don't have anything else to ask and they slowly disperse, some chatting with each other and some looking at historic textbooks, obviously searching for signs of Reshar's influence. As Mirabelle stands alone with Renna and Korth in the courtyard an onyx-skinned spellscale in black robes approaches. "You are committing them all to a path littered with death, but then again this is looking more like a time where all paths will eventually be paved with corpses. I am Sargoun, an apprentice in shadow magic. The Perfect Sages have designated me to be your personal guide in this facility. I can also provide limited Shadow Walk between each of our five campuses on the island, if needed. Where would you like to go? Somewhere out of direct sunlight, hopefully."

Ulwiss Lab/Astral Plane:

Vefir looks at Lyra with surprise, "You can't be going in there, I'll grab something else, but you don't leave!" She quickly runs to the other side of the lab for something as Lyra disintegrates the Wall of Force and enters the Astral Plane. As she steps inside she hears faint shouting from the survivor out in the distance, but can't understand what he's saying. As she floats a few feet from the portal the five nearest devices spin, some invisible point of perception on them tracking Lyra. Before she can figure out what they're doing, her vision and hearing are disrupted in an incapacitating pandemonium as all she can feel is pain. Pain as if she's being torn apart and put back together several times over.

Then darkness, and more pain. She feels something slam against her back, as she begins to feel cold, extremely cold. She hears Vefir's panicking somewhere to her left, but can't process the words, as they merely register as sounds with no meaning.

Then the pain stops, and Lyra finds herself floating in a dark void, to one side what looks like an orb with a sky view of the Material Plane floats away, and she notices dozens of other spheres of various emissions and colors, and that she's floating toward one of the brighter ones. The light it emits seems comforting, and she feels herself desiring to dive into that light stay there forever. But just as she's close enough that she should be able to touch the sphere, she stops in place.

"You know what I miss?"
"What?"
"The old days, when things were simple. There was alive, dead, undead and never alive in the first place. But now we have to put up with the mostly-dead dangling right in front of us."
"I know Corellon, it's getting out of hand."

Spoiler

Show

I hope you feel bad for ruining Corellon's day for making yourself temporarily immortal before throwing yourself in the guaranteed-death zone.

[Quellian-dyrae]

"He really is a god, isn't he?" Lyra - or her spirit - said, no so much to the god(s?) as in their vicinity. It wasn't that she doubted there was mortal power that could punch through the defenses she had placed. And she had been willing to figure that it might, maybe, yet be within mortal power to booby-trap the Astral Plane to the degree she had seen.

But she was pretty sure it would take greater than mortal magic to booby-trap the entire Astral Plane with that level of trap.

For a moment, a wave of despair brought on by the realization of the depths of her own overconfidence made her want to just float there silently, waiting for her magic to expire and lamenting her decision to try to save the world. She wasn't a hero. She wasn't an archwizard. She sure as Hades wasn't a god. She was only a chef.

A chef with enough magic to challenge a Perfect Sage of Ulwiss.

A chef with an extensive understanding of using the planes as a power source.

A chef with what was possibly a unique opportunity to collect information that might be critical to her home world.

A chef that wasn't technically dead for a solid minute and a half still.

A chef that wasn't going to stop fighting for her planet until her heart stopped beating!

Yeah, that moment?

Passed.

Maybe Vefir would be able to recover her body and heal her before her spell wore off. Maybe someone would raise her. Maybe someone would contact her spirit, or she might find a way to send information back home. Or maybe not. But if the only thing she could do to even try to help her people was speed-interrogate one or more deities, then that was flame-blasted what she would do.

"Apologies for the lack of obiescense, but I very probably have less than two minutes, plus or minus whatever time-warping shenanigans may or may not be going on around here. Can you provide me with information about Big A? If so...the most important questions I have at the moment are: How did he trap the Astral Plane? What exactly are those trap things and how do they work? How did the githyanki and its ship survive the minefield? What is the extent and current disposition of his forces? What is his next move? And is he really a god?" She realized she didn't currently have a body to tell her that she needed to stop to breathe and so consciously paused there.

[Cardea]

"Aye, but death pervades no matter what path you take. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sargoun, I am Mirabelle. Do you have a center for those who see afar? Divination is the term, correct? I must speak with someone who can aid me in hunting down a few objects I hid away." Mirabelle smiles, extending a hand to shake.

[Aldurin]

???:

Corellon chuckles before answering Lyra. "Your urgency is misplaced, or in fact unnecessary. Delay Death doesn't strand someone in the void between life and death, only various other factors."
"Botched undead, the soul being damaged upon death, basically anything that keeps a death from being normal."
"As Pelor said. We're not entirely sure with your case, as we've been busy scrying around for Aeternus."
"He's not a god, at least not yet. If his creations were divine, then we would have felt the imprint. Part of the agreement between all of us to allow limited access to everyone's domains, so we do end up 'feeling' when large amounts of divine energy are used."
"But it's still an undertaking we should have detected. Especially since he has control over Atropus."
"Lucky break for us. While we can't use divine power to perceive it, we can very well see a giant hollow mechanical shell floating above a negative energy deadzone."
"I should explain your current situation first. When a person dies, their soul traverses this void to the plane of whatever god claims them, based on their devotions or merit usually."
"It's an instant process for most people, so they don't see the difference."
"If you had actually died, I'd have claimed your soul for your artistic and whimsical spirit. Pelor is the second closest qualification for claiming you, so that's why he's able to speak with you, too."
"It would be best if you didn't linger here for too long. The fates of those stranded here vary. Some wander farther beyond and become vestiges, living an unknown existence. Some decay as they wander out, their fate likely connected to the existence of certain aberrations. Those that stay nearby are claimed by something else in here, though we're not sure what."
"Very few souls still reside in this area, and we don't know much about them."
"Oh, but your questions! We don't see any gith survivors in the Astral Plane, in fact it looks like Tu'Narath is blocked in. That said we don't know how the traps work either, as pass-through teleportation is visually imperceptible, and we weren't aware of the traps until everything in that plane either died or hunkered down. Additionally, Aeternus is a mystery figure."
"Not his original name, to be sure as we can't ping him with divination."
"Or we are and not realizing it."
"He could be anyone in the crowds. Or someone in a locked demiplane."
"It's only been a few hours since this war began, so information is still lacking."

Ulwiss, Main Campus:

"That might not be possible, as all of our diviners are preoccupied with gathering and relaying information. The corpse you brought us has only been under study for a few minutes and already more and more resources are being diverted to understanding it. The Perfect Sages understand that we can't win this war in a day, but it's not on our terms whether it even lasts that long. I'll still take you to our divination center to see about your request." Sargoun dryly replies, accepting the handshake with lazy firmness. Unlike the other student mages, the spellscale doesn't indicate anything as to whether he's impressed by or in fear of Mirabelle.

The passage 70 floors up the main tower takes only a second. This floor appears to be one giant room, the curved glass ceiling indicating that this is the floor where the wider base of the architecture ends. Varying enchantments and colors occupy the different panes, and a massive variety of mirrors, crystal orbs and telescopes litter the room, all in use. Sargoun approaches one of the younger mages using a mirror and whispering something in her ear. Sargoun turns back toward Mirabelle, along with a female orc with azure hair, which is clearly colored by an image spell that's just barely misaligned with her natural hair. "I'm Garatha, one of the divination graduates. I can spare a few minutes for whatever you need from my skillset."

[Cardea]

"Thank you, Sargoun." Mirabelle says to the spellscale, before turning to the half-orc. "Hello Garatha, I am Mirabelle. I need of your sight to find a few weapons I had hidden away in the previous millennia. I need to get to them. Someone may have found one or several, and I must gather them back again. Would this be within your realm of capability?"

[Quellian-dyrae]

That, admittedly, had an effect on Lyra's priorities. She'd risk her life to save another. She'd give her life to protect her world. But it struck her (especially since she was currently talking to literal incarnations of a confirmation that she was probably going to have a rather enjoyable afterlife) that it would be a good idea to attend to the state of her soul. "Um. So I'm sold on the 'not lingering here too long' idea. That strikes me as an eminently sensible plan. But how do I leave? Do I go with one of you or...?"

[Ryuuk]

This was new, or so old that feeling it again made it seem new. The last time was during the war... is it as bad as at the court? These thoughts were nonsense, but better to see through and around it then dwell on on pain running down her hand, arm and chest. It takes her a moment to steady herself. Another part of her just wanted to lay down or run. Facing it again could mean more of this, perhaps even... No She shakes her head.

"...and this is just one." She could not risk its touch again. Once upright, she lowers her longsword while her free hand clutches her side. She closes it into a fist, and inside draws out as much power as she can from her pool. Those nearby can hear a sound like water freezing, which grows louder and louder.

Not much left... As always when she played this game, a part of her was almost lost in the flow and tried to pull the rest of her in. If I fall in it might not give me a chance to wake. If I miss or it brushes it off... She shakes her head as the creaking intensifies. Then in one swift motion, with which the noise finally stop, she projects a razor sharp shard towards the undead paladin. Throughout the surge, the euphoria and doubts, Gilana watches it fly as if it were the only thing in the world.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

HP: 52/151
PP: 53/270
Damage Reduction: 7/Cold Iron
Armor Class: 40, +1 Dodge on the undead, +2 Skirmish if she moves
Note: Sidestep Charge for +4 Dodge if charged

Free: Wild Surge +3, Surging Euphoria (+1 Moral Attack, Damage and Saves). Dazed if (1d100)[52]=<15
Standard: Fully Augmented, Empowered, Wild Surged Crystal Shard (15pp + 3)
- Touch Attack (1d20+23)[38]
- Damage (16d6+1)[59] * 1.5

Move and Swift: Pending

[Raunchel]

Florikeme, second floor

Tyrene looks at the strange creature. She is filled with an intense hate. How dares it resist her? That alone is sufficient reason to tear it, its creator and Aeternus from existence. But not yet. She needs knowledge, she needs time, and power. Most of all she needs power. She knows the strength of the dead, and their few weaknesses. Normally she would send her giants to fight, but those weaklings are screaming. It shows once again that only the Sarnillan has true power.

And does she really need these hideous creatures? They can't be trusted, they would give her to that pompous fool of a Logan who also still has to be killed, without the interference of any of those gods. She doesn't need such protection, but then again, she's no air-breather. She's too beautiful to be harmed. But here there is only one true option. She has to leave, and do it quickly. This is no place to stay, this whole city is lost. So she does what her heart tells her to, she turns invisible and flies away.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Tyrene uses a cl 15 invisibility and flies to AD18. Unfortunately she can't run, yet. Then it will be 450 ft per round for 14 rounds, and after that just 180. Tyrene will escape in the old-fashioned way, this whole thing is getting her nowhere.

[Aldurin]

???:

"Well you were supposed to come with me, but you made sure that mostly-dead was the most dead you could be for that moment."
"This is a significant grey area for us, particularly because we can't influence this area."
"The void you're in isn't even a three-dimensional space, but you see it as such as that's the only way your mind can comprehend your surroundings. Don't think about it too hard."
"If you can't somehow will yourself back to being alive, then I guess we just have to wait."
"I'll divulge any discussion you want, whether its relevant to the conflict or normal topics like what would be the first thing you want to try cooking once you finally let go and join my realm."

Ulwiss, Divination Center:

"The previous millennia, huh?" Garatha takes a closer look at Mirabelle, brushing aside her hair and making the bad coloring illusion stand out even more. "You're human . . . there kobold or elf in your family tree or somethin', or are you just a lich with a damn good disguise?" She steps back and turns adjusts her mirror, "What'ves, just another clown in the clown college so most of us don't think much of unusual stuff. Scrying specific items isn't very easy normally, unless they're custom-enchanted, which I assume is the case?"

Florikeme, Second Floor Hallways:

As Tyrene flees, she sees Gilana's crystal shard gain temporary mass from the invested energy as it slams into the undead paladin, obliterating the entire torso. From the limbs sprouts a quickly regenerating bone structure that connects the body back together, but it isn't enough as the form gives out and collapses into dust. The dark soldiers examine the remains from a few feet back, clearly not wanting to feel the sting of negative energy again. "One of the squads reported being able to damage these things normally after hitting them with a solid turning, though it looks like you hit her hard enough to not need that." The paladin limps over to the group. "Even then, I don't know how to fight this. How are we supposed to evacuate everyone?"

Spoiler

Show

Gilana managed to burst its entire HP total in one attack, which I guess bypasses the regeneration part of the gimmick. 7000 xp for Gilana and Tyrene (the former gaining more for being more in the fight, and the latter for surviving the ill-planned assassination.)

Loot:
Undead Paladin:
-Servant of Heironeous Helmet, Florikeme Design (Current condition and effects unclear).
-Servant of Heironeous Armor sans-torsa, Florikeme Design (Full-plate armor, obviously needs repair, unknown effects).
-A cubic foot of dust left behind by the undead's natural disintegration.
-532 gold
Normal Dead Paladin:
-Servant of Heironeous Armor, Florikeme Design (In need of minor repair, unknown effects.)
-Mithral Longsword, Servant of Heironeous Embellishments (Intact, unknown effects.)
-498 gold

[Raunchel]

Tyrene doesn't stop flying now that she has turned invisible. Gilana has betrayed her and her lack of clear violent action will have been seen as aiding their enemy. Instead she heads to the hole in the window. She will head to the clear sky and then the deep water, where she belongs and where she will be truly free. There she is fast and in the true element. No more of this harsh air, but soft water. She will escape, and find Maral to take her to the sea where she will be safe. She needs time so she can plan how she can take Atropus for herself and crush this Aeternus and make him her servant.

She will first have to escape the city, but these creatures can't see the invisible and she will fly covered from the sky.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Tyrene flies outside and looks around for an escape path.

Knowledge religion: the undead things: (1d20+28)[48]
Knowledge geography: where is the sea? (1d20+10)[19]
Spot: surroundings: (1d20+13)[21]

[Cardea]

"No, just human, and older than most. Like Brint, for example. But most people will be older than Brint in due time," Mirabelle says, giggling at the half-orc's attempts to distinguish her blood. She removes the armor from her right arm, and motions for the half-orc to view the images that accompany her story. "Yes, all were. They grew with the wielder; as they wielder grew in strength, so did the blade. Let's start from the top. Desert Wind. It was a scimitar, born to the school of its namesake: Desert Wind. It was made by for a wealthy merchant in an ancient city in a lost desert, forged from the planes of earth and fire by Haqim, an efreet. It was then taken to a djinni named Malaq, who weaved magic so great, of spells to protect and slice, despite his hatred of the efreet, who made the blade. And the merchant, who had spent so much coin into this blade, now found himself penniless and alone. The blade, meant to be his final defense, now became his only. He fled, and was caught, by a devil prince. And though his fate was to die each night and reborn each morning, the scimitar itself was lost to time."

[Ryuuk]

The sound of the crystal shattering had rarely been so melodic. Gilana takes a deep breath and turns to find an empty hallway. After a moment she nods, runs her hand down her side and moves to join the rest of the group. "I'm not sure. I can craft one more shard like that, maybe two, but after that... Make sure Logan knows, all the groups too. Contact is deadly, at least until a turning. If they can't be turned, then they need a massive amount of force, else one should flee. Beyond the Grand Crusader, is there any other high priest? Someone close to Heironeous that could turn them...?" There was one more.

"Tyrene?" She calls out to the empty hallway. "How different is a Paladin's turning from what you do? Could the way you control them maybe have an effect?" She lets the question linger. She could not have teleported, perhaps she was still nearby.

---

If there is no answer, then it seems she was wrong. She knew no one else nearby, and there was possibly little time. She shakes her head. "If there are more of these, then... we need to get who we can. We go to whatever team needs our help most, but tell all others to regroup. We travel as a pack, deal with things as they come, traverse the most densely populated areas and get out quickly if we must, with who we can..." She did not like the words aloud anymore then in her head.

Someone with powerful turning or a group in danger, we go there, all while the others regroup. It all depends on how they are holding up.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Gilana's Longsword should be at +2 now, so she'll take the one off the ground. Beyond that, there's little else she can carry, (though she'll have a use for the gp in spell components in the future). Might be best to store the rest in the pit. Take the Helmet and place it in the free glove of storing.

Side: Her Longsword
Right Hand: Florikeme Longsword
Left Glove or Hand: Rod of Magical Presicion
Right Glove: Florikeme Helmet

Also casting Lesser Vigor to heal a bit while this is happening.

[Quellian-dyrae]

Will herself back to life. That sounded...implausible, but she didn't really see as it could harm her current situation to try it. But how would one go about it? She immediately rejected any idea of merely concentrating on her body, or her memories, or what she had left behind. Lyra was a trained mage, and didn't buy into that kind of 'your mind makes it real, clap your hands if you believe' stuff. No, magic had specific rules and functions and if you knew how it worked you could make it work for you.

"This...void. It's not actual space, but any time a mortal dies...pretty much anywhere, they pass through it instantaneously to reach the outer plane where they're supposed to go?" Lyra asked, mainly for clarification. There was a new hint of distraction in her voice. Her mind was working overtime now. Partially because she was trying to come up with a way to use what she knew to somehow A) get back to her body and B) get her body out of its current position when she did. Partially because she was recall something that might serve as a feasible backup plan. And partially because she had gotten an Idea...

Spoiler

Show

Knowledge (Religion) check to recall whatever I can about how ghosts come into being, because Lyra's probably just that stubborn if it comes down to it : (1d20+13)[28].

[Derjuin]

Unity

Unity makes note of the strange moon-like object that may or may not be over Florikeme, perplexed. Was it even a moon? Normally astronomical objects stayed in the heavens... or so she thought, at least. Was this the work of Logan, or Aeternus - or someone else entirely? Something seemed very strange about it, either way, and so she began the flight back to the Olsworth capital.

Spoiler

Show

Assuming it takes longer than a minute to get back, G. Invis falls off

Shield: 15 minutes ( - time it takes to get back to city)

Sorc spells: 5/10/9/9/6/3/4/2/5
Cleric spells: 5/6+D/4+D/3+D

[Aldurin]

Olsworth:

Half an hour later, Unity arrives back at Olsworth's capitol, still under minor turmoil as the populace remains panicked and confused. As she approaches the palace a royal guard casts a fly spell and intercepts her, "Halt! Identify yourself!" He shouts, pointing his staff at Unity.

???:

Corellon sighs before speaking again, "We aren't entirely sure ourselves, its mainly conjecture based on accounts from the few souls that get delayed on their arrival, but still make it intact."
The voices of both deities begin to fade, "Like he said, don't think about it t-"

Darkness once again . . .

Ulwiss, Main Campus Medical Ward:

Lyra opens her eyes to see a swirling mass of colors dangling a few feet in front of her, then she gets her bearings and realizes she's staring up at some kind of bizarre light fixture. The pain is back, not tearing like before, but dull. And she definitely feels intact. "She's awake! Come over here and help." A female voice with a heavy undercommon accent shouts over to her left. As Lyra turns to look she feels the crippling pain come back in full force on her neck, and the reflexive flinch turns every dull area into a sea of unbearable pain for a few moments, the scream she expected to make being a weak, wheezing exhale. Only some of her back and the left side of her face are devoid of pain. She sees a half-drow woman in white robes step over her and casts a spell, surging more positive energy through Lyra but it still doesn't alleviate her suffering. "I'm Palzuri, the Perfect Sage of Healing. Just try not to move. Can you understand me?" An apprentice healing student comes into Lyra's field of vision along with Vefir, the former watching with anticipation and the latter diverting her gaze, sullenness replacing her normal lighthearted idle behavior. Vefir casts a spell on Lyra and holds a deep blue orb in front of her, "The link is active, if she's mentally intact. If not, then I don't think even the telepathic speech assist will help her."

Ulwiss, Divination Center:

Garatha takes in the story then turns towards the mirror, grabbing it on both sides as she appears to gaze into her own reflection. "It's not on the Material Plane. The Nine Hells is my next guess, but they are difficult to scry on. I should at least know if the scimitar is there." After about 20 seconds of intense staring she shakes her head and turns back. "I wouldn't recommend it. I managed to ping it to Phlegethos, and narrow down the location to Abriymoch. Even if planar travel was possible, you'll probably either be digging through obsidian or trying to pry it out of the hands of some powerful outsider, possibly Gazra or one of his underlings."

Florikeme Captiol Airspace:

Tyrene sees the city in far worse condition than when she was last outside. The Hallowing is gone, except in scattered locations that are besieged by the black lightning and regular zombies and skeletons that are wandering in from outside the city. The buildings are either damaged or destroyed as various figures, likely undead similar to what she just saw, leap after survivors with their unnatural speed and strength. Behind her she hears crumbling, and sees a surprising concentration of these new undead rapidly leaping up the citadel, their gaze set on the metallic surface of Atropus above them, still vastly out of reach even as some try to leap towards it from the highest point in the city. As she watches them climb and fight she understands more. These undead are animated with so much negative energy that they naturally radiate it, fully healing themselves the instant they are struck. They are strong and durable, but are weak to those who can suppress their emanation or strike them down in one blow.

As she looks out to the horizon she remembers that the oceans are distant, and the nearest sea is the one to the northwest. If she can safely fly north for an hour, she'll reach a river that flows there, hardly 50 feet deep. It will still get her to open water by midday, and is her most viable way to escape without magical means.

Florikeme, Second Floor Hallways:

As Gilana picks up the sword she feels a surge of confidence, and a slight urge for justice. Multiple good auras radiate from the sword, which she gets the gut feeling will be useful even if she doesn't know what they are. The paladin nods and sends the orders. He also uses Lay on Hands to heal Gilana fully as Logan flies in with eight dark soldiers of questionable mental states in tow. Several seem to unconsciously shift their mass into various indistinct and dangerous shapes while the others twitch or pace when idle. "What did you tell them to do? It's a slaughter out there! And on top of that, Tyrene doesn't have a cyst! I can't have these soldiers track her with Necrotic Scrying, and I have no idea whether its her or Atropus responsible for these new undead I'm getting reports about!" He looks down the hall toward the archives and sees the bloody smear towards the decapitated paladin, and the dust pile with partial armor. "Our own were turned, even through the Hallowing?" He steels himself as his wings idly flex and his sword hand spins his sword in place without him noticing, the stress and adrenaline from five centuries ago flowing back into him.

[Quellian-dyrae]

~I'm...I'm here. I un-und...understa-a-ahh...gods...ow...~ Lyra sent, a telepathic whimper. She had...she had had an idea. Something she had wanted to try. It- another flash of searing pain scattered her slowly coalescing thoughts once more.

She reached for her own well of positive energy. Not a spell. She...didn't feel up to a spell at the moment. She just reached blindly for the soothing warmth of life energy that rested within her, desperate to heal the pain. Her personal latent magical defenses were fairly potent, but she had always been fairly physically frail, and her pain threshold was not great.

~What...what happened?~ she asked. After a moment, she clarified the question with, ~After I charged li-like an imbecile in...in...into a m-magical d-d-death trap?~ While she didn't deny that she probably deserved a lecture, she really didn't want to hear it right now.

Spoiler

Show

Gonna burn, eh, let's say 30 points of Healing Hands on myself. If I have any conditions within its power to remove, I'll also spend the necessary points to purge them.

[Derjuin]

Unity

Unity halts, hovering in front of the royal guard. Part of her is confused for a moment, while another part is understanding - of course the guard would stop her. She was no longer merely Terressa - she was now the Twilight Unicorn. "I am the ascended form of the Dawn Unicorn, Terressa. I am here to reconvene with Lady Lanulir regarding the state of our nation at this tumultuous time." She looks down to the ground, then back to the guard. "Shall we land? I do not wish to cause the Guard any more trouble than it is no doubt already going through."

[Aldurin]

Olsworth, Capitol Palace:

"We can land, but I still need to confirm your identity." The guard says. When they touch on the ground, he signals two of the other guards. "Go ask Lanulir what she knows about this, and you, run an identity check on Terressa and see if this is a known form of hers." He turns his head back, staff still pointed. "Everyone here knows Terressa, and would definitely know if a unicorn of your appearance came here before. I've organized multiple units to watch you from a distance. If you're one of Aeternus' chosen, his agent, then we'll capture you properly or make sure you don't come back out of the ground."

Ulwiss, Main Campus Medical Ward:

Lyra hears her own, unnervingly distorted, voice resonate from the orb in front of her, a very disconnecting experience as her damaged form leaves her trapped away from her only way of communicating with the others. Her magic doesn't alleviate the pain, and still leaves her unable to move without intensifying it. Vefir seems to choke back a sob of relief, and Palzuri nods toward her. Vefir speaks slowly as she tries to suppress her emotions. "Well . . . you remember your classes here, right? One of the mid-level courses you did well in was a history class on experimental warfare and esoteric magical theory. The lesson about Plane Shift." Lyra did. A frenetic halfling by the name of Fortan taught the class, and was obsessed with anything that was off the beaten path of academia. He had taken a liking to Lyra's work, and was one of the few to support her to the end of her time there. One of his lessons was about Plane Shift. He said the common understanding of how it worked was that a Gate was made during a single unit of time on top of the target, and they were shoved through instantly before it closed . . .

"BUT!" Fortan shouted as he slammed his hand down on his desk, startling the drowsy students. "There were several brilliant minds that didn't accept that! One such mind suggested the theory of static alignment, and was immediately expelled from the Arcane Order before they removed his identity from their records." He began to pace between the students desks, stepping at desk level with the use of Air Walk. "Static alignment, he said, also explained more about how the planes actually worked. Instead of pushing matter through a portal, Plane Shift altered a property present within all matter and energy, similar to how lodestones reverse their magnetism when struck with lightning evocation." He was now at the back of the room and walking towards the next aisle to pace through. "If he named this property, we don't know it, but it means all planes overlap with each other in varying states of correspondence. In essence, it is the state of our existence, and he proposed that the Astral Plane was the neutral point for this property, an inevitable path to cross over whenever this alteration occurred." Fortan was back at his desk, turning around and slamming his hand on the desk again, startling the same students from before. "In this case, the implication of improper planar travel are severe. Say I gave you a silver fork as a plane shift focus, but the handle was actually steel coated with silver! If you were to plane shift with that, two destinations would be designated. Of course you can't exist in two places at once, aside from past and/or future selves, clones and whatnot, but the spell would try anyway. Part of you would follow the direction of silver, and the rest would follow the direction of steel. You might find you legs missing, or you might collapse to the ground, dead because half of the mass of every part of your body is elsewhere, also dead. What if it could be weaponized? A plane shift with no destination chosen is one with every plane chosen. If a person were subject to this kind of plane shift, it would be identical to Disintegrate, except the dust would be trace particles of blood and flesh in potentially any space in any of the planes, and it would work regardless of how healthy the target was." The halfling begins to act calmer, his voice becoming more serious. "So why was the theory brushed aside, decried as the product of a hallucination, and the theorist deposed? Did the Arcane Order want that kind of power for themselves? Not likely, as if they did pursue that kind of power then you'd know as they'd be running this island, along with the rest of the Material Plane. No, they understood the responsibility of being a mage." He points to the students. "The responsibility of someone who plays with the workings of the universe. If you find something that will inevitably lead a new arms race, or undo reality, you don't pursue it. If possible you destroy the means of finding it, or put in place ways to protect it. If we pull at the threads of the multiverse then it will end up just like a cheap sweater, an unraveled, useless mess."

"Well what I saw that . . . thing do to you, it backs up the theory." Vefir said, snapping Lyra back from the memory. "It tore you apart faster than you could heal yourself. I had to use Time Stop to safely pull you out, but by that time you were already just part of a torso and some of a head, kept on the brink by Delay Death." The assistant healer holds up the remains of Lyra's outfit to show what Vefir meant. The full plate had barely enough mithral to be reforged into a shoulder guard, and the clothes she wore with it were barely enough to make a pair of socks now.

Palzuri speaks, "It took several Restorations, but your body is intact. I don't know what to do about the pain, though. It's usually with amputation victims that spend great lengths of time without restoring the lost body part. But it should go away upon restoring the body, even people that graft other limbs to themselves don't suffer from this. It's an old form of medicine, but physical therapy might be the way to go. Once we go through a proper mental evaluation, since a good third of your brain was gone from that . . . injury before I restored it."

[Derjuin]

Unity

"Of course. I understand your precautions," Unity says, bowing. "But you will most likely not find anything on this form... it is a new state of being for me. I assure you, however, that there are no other unicorns to whom the name Terressa belongs." After hearing the guard speak of capture or defeat, were she to be one of Aeternus' pawns, she simply closes her eyes and nods. "I am an enemy of Aeternus, just as all the world's people are. But if you decide that capture is necessary, then I will not fight you. Not after fighting for Olsworth's peace and safety for so long..."

Afterwards, she stands rather still, not wanting to provoke the guard with any more movement.

[Raunchel]

Florikeme Airspace
Tyrene looks and keeps flying. She has to reach the water. Reaching safety will take time, but it's better than falling into the hands of that Logan, or this Atropus. Through the river she can find the sea, and there she will be safe. Once she is outside the reach of Atropus she can release one of her giants to carry her. They do not tire and can maintain a high speed indefinately, faster than she can keep up even. She still tires, they never do. Resting in its arms she can then Think about what to do, and get the required sleep. Once the sea has been crossed she can then soar again, crossing the land before continuing under the waves on one of her giants.

She heads to the river, where she hopes to find safety. Her spells of invisibility should keep her safe until she reaches it, and she backs it up with other magic, making her imperceptible to any undead. She is silent, which might go against her nature, but it is possible, even for the sirene. She needs the water, she longs for it. She wants to leave this trap. Nevertheless she keeps looking, she keeps listening, she can't afford to be surprised.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Tyrene heads right to the river, and casts hide from undead, which will last for almost four hours. She has her spell-like invisibility active, which lasts for fifteen minutes, and when it runs out she will be continually casting the spell from her bard list. Each of these castings lasts 8 minutes, and she has sufficient spell slots left to make for another 72 minutes. Once she is in the water she will abandon the invisibility, and just swim along the bottom, where she will be quite hard to detect. She goes with the flow, but I don't assume that it will be very strong, so that won't really matter.

Spot: (1d20+13)[22]
Listen: (1d20+6)[19]

[Ryuuk]

If two come at once- It won't happen- One more shard- A misstep- Some way- No time At least none of the groups desperately needed help. Or they can not answer the- No They needed a strong turning, a large beacon of positive energy. Sitting here is doing nothing- It was just one- Neither will- NO

"Thank you." She tries to show none of her thoughts, though she would be hard pressed to state them right now. She tightens the grip on the new longsword, it was soothing at least, slightly calming, while the Paladin heals the wounds. May I last more then its last wielder.

The sight of Logan was comforting, until it became clear again that it was Logan.

"Right now, to regroup. We heard the crash and ran into one of the new ones." She gestures to the swords last holder. "It could have done the same to any one of us. It... made for a change in the plan. The Sirene... She was here, she tried to do something, but new one just turned to her and mocked her. These aren't hers, she'd never let her dolls insult her. Once we downed it, she vanished."

"The Hallowing is broken and these things are surging of negative energy. One of the groups said turning made them vulnerable, but I don't know how lucky they were or how strong the turning needs to be to be reliable."

and its safer inside then in the streets, isn't it? Her left hand goes to her forehead.

"We- No, I've wasted enough time already. I planned on moving to join the groups as they met up. We would cover less ground then the original idea, but it would let us deal with the new undead. We should get going, unless there's something I'm overlooking."

The turning. If there are too many, if they fail... It's positive energy, large amounts of positive energy, maybe if...

Spoiler: OoC

Show

HP: MAX
PP: 37
Also, spending an action to recover Psionic Focus

[Quellian-dyrae]

Lyra let out...well, some sort of breath. Kinda hard to tell, but it had roughly even chances of being a sigh, a wheeze, or a sob. ~O...okay then. Alright. Thank you, both. You saved my life,~ she sent. ~I think...I think I should rest. But...but maybe I can still...if...~ she took a steadying breath and began attempting a spell.

Spoiler

Show

I'm gonna pause there 'cause I still kinda don't know what condition Lyra's actually in. I'm kinda under the impression that she's physically healed but nonetheless in extreme pain, but the telepathy voice thingy suggests she can't actually speak, so I suppose it's also possible that she's still currently basically a torso and most of a head. In any case, if it is possible for her to cast spells with Verbal, Somatic, and Material components (maybe she can bum the latter off Vefir or Palzuri) she's going to cast Prying Eyes.

Current Hit Points: ???/???.
Warmage Spells: 6/7/7/6/6/6/5/2/2. (-1 5th level spell if she's able to cast the Prying Eyes).
Healer Spells: 6/8/8/6/4/6/5/4/2.