#was split between lightning and arcane and went for arcane

[marzzrocks]

pov: you don't have your passport. also you’re a dragon for some reason

his design is based on an on going project of making hlvrai dragons real

final(-ish) under the cut | warning for bright colors / eyestrain vvv

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 31. Funeral

Fandom: Wrath of the Righteous

Not exactly a funeral but appropriate for today 👻

cw: spooky?

Massive spoilers for the game & secret ending & my sequels Wandering Stars and West Wind.

Also on AO3

Ozone. Chemical solvents. Arcane flame. Metal and lightning. Nothing living in this place, and yet the air felt charged with tension as if holding its breath, suspended in time.

He paused in the corridor to get his bearings. He’d been here before long ago, more than once. Black crusts of demon blood smeared across the floor attested to the last time. Barren walls rippled in the stuttering light of a shattered arcane barrier. Splinters and scorch-marks were all that remained of the door beyond it. Violence wreaked by the fury of Elysium.

To the heart of the laboratory. His rose-gold glow and fresh, floral breeze followed but the darkness behind quickly swallowed them as he passed.

On the ramp leading down, the demonic trap was still active but it could no longer read him. It conjured disjointed, dreamlike tableaux that shifted one into another: beckoning azata under a starry sky; the bowsprit of the Light of Heaven plunging through warm sea-spray; a shady grove of pomegranate and poplar in Kelesh. A slim, horned shadow perched on a rooftop, turning a tender, laughing yellow eye his way. But these surface dreams rapidly gave way to a vision of Golarion flooded with starlight and joy, and finally the sky of his domain clear and unblemished by the darkly burning star.

He kept walking.

The lab stood just as he’d left it: charred husks of demons lying amidst broken glass and spilled chemicals, books just as Nenio discarded them pell-mell on the tables, the projector flickering, the stand where the Lexicon had been placed still illuminated by a bright beam once meant to lure him to it.

Slowly he went around the shelves reading the spines of the books, touching some to absorb their contents, avoiding others, until he came to a mechanism set into the wall. Curious. One they never managed to open. A constant purple light burned in its center. No amount of fiddling seemed to activate it until on impulse he looked straight into it and said, “It’s me.”

And then one of the bookshelves warped into another dimension and opened onto a secret storage room.

His own Elysian glow the only light, within its radius he made out shelf upon shelf of jars, tanks, and oblong metal boxes. He stood breathing the stale air, feeling uncannily afraid of what lay in those containers.

Something flitted past his peripheral vision and he turned sharply, but it was gone. Bone-deep cold and foul moisture clung to him, raising goosebumps even on his divine skin.

Then in the utter silence a whisper as light as a moth wing startled him: “Who is here?”

He peered deeper into the darkness, where a wisp of pale smoke hung between stacked boxes as if hiding itself.

“It’s me,” he said again.

“Oh.” A soft child’s voice, as if from far away. “You grew up.”

He squatted so he was eye-level with it. “Who are you? I can’t remember.”

“You never met us,” the voice sighed. “We only watched and listened. We heard you screaming.”

“You’re a ghost now. Who were you before?”

“I don’t remember. I think I had a momma and papa in a sunny place but maybe I just thought about that to feel warm.”

“You were one of her experiments,” he said, heart rising painfully.

“So were you.”

“Why was I the lucky one?”

“We didn’t think you were lucky. We heard you screaming and screaming. We heard her talking about how you were splitting open and how she had to stop it before it killed the ghost she was trying to sew inside us. That she sewed inside you.”

“She hurt you too, didn’t she?”

“Not long. We died.” It paused. “But you kept screaming.”

All that remained were nightmares pushed to the edges of his consciousness. He didn’t want to remember. It hurt him to think he was not alone. “But you’re still not at peace or you wouldn’t be haunting this place.”

“As long as she lives we will stay. One day she’ll come in here to look for something and we will remind her.”

He said gently, “How about if I do that for you, so you can rest?”

The ghost was silent for a while, a mist drifting across the wall as if trailing a hand on its familiar surface. “All right,” it sighed at last.

He reached out a lightly glowing hand. The mist inched toward it, coyly at first, and then nestling against it, and with his ethereal form he drew the ghost into his arms and cradled it close.

It clung to him, absorbing his warmth. He felt small arms around his neck.

“This should never have happened to us,” he whispered.

“Thank you for coming back.”

“Everything’s all right. Sleep now.”

And with the faintest sigh the mist evaporated in his arms, leaving a rime of frost on the walls as it went.

He stayed squatting on the floor for a few moments, and at last wiped his eyes and stood.

As he exited the storage room he saw her. Hardly a surprise.

“I wonder why you are here,” she said, fixing him with that surgical glare that seemed only to have sharpened since she realized she had succeeded in her experiment.

“There are still things I need to know.” He fixed her right back.

“Then ask.”

“Why did you choose me?”

She flinched very subtly, as she sometimes did when he spoke as if he were only Siavash and not an amalgam of her design. Or her son.

“As you know, you were not the only one I chose, but there were several practical factors that made you a promising subject. You were healthy, a long-lived half-elf with that particular half-breed fissure in your psyche that could be prised open to implant a graft. A stable, average family so that I could easily control variables and keep you safe while I observed your progress. An affinity for chaos that made you a suitable host. And you...” She frowned. “When you collided with my legs in a bookshop in Almas you were carrying a copy of Evocatio Daemonium which I perhaps foolishly took as a sign.”

Desna at work? he wondered. “Why foolishly?”

“When the graft took I ceased searching for a better host, believing in portents and signs like some superstitious Sarkorian. As it turns out, you were too good a host. You absorbed him. You overpowered him. I should have—“

“I won him over. I invited him in. He’s me.”

She smirked humorlessly. “And now, you are an eternal teenager.”

His own smile was not so humorless. “Tell me more about this affinity for chaos.”

“Why?” Always probing.

“There are things I still need to understand,” he repeated vaguely. She already knew about the dark star but perhaps not about this latest development, and although she might willingly help him if he told her, he didn’t want her to have that leverage.

“You know already,” she said. “You discovered on your own that you are div-touched.”

“For some mortals that’s a death sentence. Why not for me?”

“My tests told me little, but they did assure me your soul was stable.”

“You don’t know, in other words. What if my soul isn’t stable after all? What if ascension did something to it?”

She looked at him hard, as if she could see into the structural essence of his stolen divinity. “That is not impossible. Will you allow me to perform a few tests?”

“After what you did? No.”

“If you are referring to the unfortunate series of events with your husband, know that it was not my intention that he try to steal the objects alone. I hoped only to provoke a confrontation with Taurvi so that we could all be rid of her. She is a threat.”

“How about ‘I’m sorry I accidentally condemned your husband to Hell’?”

Her lips tightened. “I did not expect him to be so foolish.”

It wasn’t foolishness. It was love. “And yet it played right into your plan, didn’t it? A nice little experiment to test the full extent of my power. To see what would happen if I... lost control.”

“An unhoped-for opportunity.”

“Well. It sounds like I’m getting neither an apology nor the answers I came for. I have one more thing before I go.”

“And that is?”

“A reminder.” With that he released the cold wind that whirled in his heart. The long, long years of pain and loneliness. The weeping of children torn from their homes and stripped of their humanity, made into experimental subjects and discarded. Left cold and comfortless to die.

She was blown back among her shelves. Sheaves of notes and shattering jars flew at her like a hailstorm. Frost coated the wing she threw up to shield herself. In a flash of angry, Abyssal light she vanished.

[jamiebluewind]

Charatcter Descriptions and Summary 2.15

This is the "short" version of descriptions. I have a much MUCH longer one with lots of quotes that I might have to split up to fit. As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

Warning: multiple blood mentions, torture, imprisonment, violence, stabbing, gun violence, canon typical violence, injuries, burns, homophobia and bigotry, gore mention, horror (including body horror), beheading, violence against animals, 69 mention, and disrespecting a mummy

***

Bad Kids

Fabian

Fandrangor stats: +2 to attack and damage. Finesse, one handed. 1d8 piercing. Burn a spell slot on a sucessful hit to add an extra d6 of damage per level.

Wrapped Alistair's foot in his sheet to trip and flip him up before deeply stabbing him in the abdomen

Held his sheet out to further protect Adaine.

Slashed Dayne with a reposte (while also burning a 1st level spell slot on his sword) as he yelled "Toxic masculinity is dead! I dance now!"

Closed in on Penelope using an athletics check that involved jumping and running across the deck. His mobile flourish pushed her to the edge of the deck before he kicked her off the ship.

Took out Alistair and Penelope (details in their section)

Stood at the helm after Bill fell off, turning the ship over due to the gravity being off

Riz

Hissed at Vraz

Got so sweaty and nervous over a terrible line ("You attacked the wrong guy!") that he missed the greesers

Shot Dayne from hiding while saying "You missed spring break" before hiding again (Fabian responding "Classic The Ball. Always shooting from hiding").

Had no clue where his father actually was, telling Bill the little thathe knew.

Got sleepy while he was hiding

Was shot out of the cannon and blasted off into the city (taking some damage). Shouted "I'm the ball!" as he flew away before smashing through a dark red and black stained glass window 200 feet below the ship, tumbling into a strangly familiar building. The room was empty due to all the devils hearing the alarms and fleeing. He rushed down a familar dark hallway.

Witnessed his father being tortured and saying that he didn't care about his son, but still misty steped into the room with the unconscious Pok the minute the devils left.

Tried to scoop his dad up into his Briefcase of Holding, but the two barbed devils came back (snarling as they saw him), one grabbing his briefcase and the other grappling Riz to restrain him. He kept trying to save Pok anyway even while restrained and fought against the devils over his briefcase (see Pok area for more)

Kristen

Rolled up sleeves over Daybreak attacking Tracker

Walked up to Daybreak with anger in her veins (over him hurting Tracker), said "Hi Daybreak. It's so great to see you. I've been PRAYING FOR YOU!", and slammed her staff down, using distructive wave. Light radiated out of her as every enemy was hit but Penelope (due to Globe of Invulnerability) and Johnny Spells and took out 3 Scarecrows. She then spat on Daybreak which hisses on his cheek as he yelled "Ah! Love! Love wins!"

Was knocked out by Daybreak and was back in Silvar looking at a nice tree

Used a 4th level mass healing word before her and Tracker dimension doored away from Daybreak

Adaine

Arcane Hand works like a claw machine with a controler in her hands

While prone, shot a lightning bolt at Dayne, Penelope, and a Scarecrow (after counterspelling Penelope's counterspell). Took out the Scarecrow.

Hit Daybreak with a 4th level Cromatic Orb (cold damage).

Smacked Johnny's fire spell out of the air with a counterspell after calling him "a predator who didn't fuck" and then ignored Johnny completely to go after Daybreak by hitting him with a 4th level (cold) chromatic orb

Used Forceful Hand to grab Bill to keep him from falling (two of the devils stayed grapped to Bill)

Fig

Tried to shake Gilear awake

Fig The Unfaethable

Her insignia burned in her head when she used psionic blast (took out two Scarecrows)

Winked at Ayda

Used Healing Word on Kristen

Attacked Daybreak with Bombing Blade (adds bardic for extra and if he moves willinging before her next turn he takes thunder damage)

Took out Daybreak (details in his section)

Was tossed by Gorgug towards a plummeting Bill like a missile before backpacked onto Bill, snatching a scroll from Vraz's pocket (Vraz: No no no no no! / Bill: What's yours is ours.), and Dimension Dooring back to the ship with Bill.

Gorgug

Stood over Kristen's unconscious body to protect her

Used Reckless Attack twice on Daybreak, the first time dealing 50 damage and the second time ("I'm just so tired of you") another 48 damage.

Took out Dayne (details in his section) and two Scarecrows

Grabbed some holy oil to take with him to coat his weapon with.

***

Familiars and Companions

Boggy: Hit by Penelope's Cone of Cold which caused him to freeze, crack, and fall apart (can be brought back by Adaine)

Gaf: Made incorporial by Ayda to protect him/her/them during the battle

Baby: Was made invisible by Fig. Tried to pickpocket Vraz, but just got a scrap of some kind. Did a very indecent celebration dance while invisible (when Penelope was "killed").

Hangman: Freaked out over seeing Johnny before siding with Fabian. Leapt to attack Johnny Spells, but couldn't make it and settled for slamming into the greeser Sorching Ray. Frozen and knocked down by Penelope's Cone of Cold.

Hirelings and Partners

Tracker

Stayed behind on Goldenrod

Held up a hand with her holy symbol to summon Twilight Sanctuary (gives everyone a d8 of temp hit which they can choose to replace or keep each round).

Cast Beacon of Hope

Knocked out by Penelope's Cone of Cold (which also ended her two spells)

Hit Kristen with a max level cure wounds, yeling at everyone to look away as she jumped onto an unconscious Kristen who was lying between Gorgug's legs (Kristen started touching his leg thinking it's Tracker's). Everyone assumed they were 69ing, but Tracker actually just gave Kristen a very sweet kiss on the mouth and said "Double clerics baby. Nobody can keep us down for long."

Went into flying wolf form to catch Kristen when she fell off the ship.

Ragh

Took out two Scarecrows, goring one before tossed them the ship and spartan kicking the other off the deck.

Ran up to a prone Dayne chanting hoot growl and yelled "I've done a lot of shit in my life because of you asshole!" as he bodied into him (nat 20).

Walked up to Fabian and Gorgug crying after Dayne was killed.

Instigated a three way chest bump with Fabian and Gorgug, not noticing Adaine who was forced to duck ("Oh god! The jocks are being fiesty!")

Was yelled at by Daybreak which he used as an opportunity to confront Daybreak both verbally and physically.

Ayda

Cast a spell that poured out massive amounts of water over Avernus in an attempt to flood hell (in retaliation for them taking Fig) before checking on Fig

Touched both of Fig's arms as she checked if she was okay before casting Protection From Evil And Good on her.

Flew off Goldenrod to help Sandra Lynn protect the ship from incoming fire by throwing up abjurative wards, but came back and landed on the deck before the ship left Avernus.

Flew towards Daybreak and Penelope, teleporting multiple times per second to create a flickering group of 10 of her before slashing out with her talons to damage them both.

Cast clairvoyance to find Riz, pointing at the building he was in.

Used her portent to save Fabian when Goldenrod lost gravity (allowing him to hold on) before flying to catch Adaine.

Sandra Lynn

Left the Goldenrod to cover their tail, doing a swan dive off deck (which looked likes she flew up from the upside down deck) and landing on Baxter before knocking a teleportation missile out of sky with her arrow.

Smashed back down onto the deck with Baxter before healing a down Tracker (Kristen: Thank you Sandra Lynn!)

Hit Daybreak with arrows.

Jumped on Baxter when the ship lost gravity and went to help catch Kristen.

Gilear

Was immediately killed by Bill Seacaster who shot him in the chest.

Brought back by Kristen with 1 hp, a bleeding chest wound, and covered in cenders and fire

Was told by Gorgug (who stood in front of him) to lie on the ground

Hid in the golden sarcophagus (somehow lifting the massive lid to do so)

***

The Pirates

The Goldenrod

The still "living" transmogrified body of Kalvaxus turned into a flying ship against his will

Kalvaxus has to swallow down the cannon coming from his mouth to talk and turning always hurts him

Shot by Bill for calling himself a boat instead of a ship

Captained by Bill Seacaster, crewed by cender zombie pirates, and the flagship of Bill's rebel armada of dragon carcus ships

The ship has it's own gravity and can sail in any direction (including upside down), but the unsecured barrels on deck are a hazard during fast turns.

Able to breached through to Dis, Bill having some way to travel through the levels that the other devils couldn't find

Broadsided The Iron City, firing tons of gold, holy water, and saints finger bones wrapped in old parchment out of it's cannons.

Captain Bill Seacaster

An enormous devil with one cender eye, a devil bone hook, and a floating skull and crossbones insignia over his head

At the helm of Goldenrod after rescuing Riz, Fig, Gilear, Hangman, and Baby/Wretchrot (via being yanked up on rope ladders to the Goldenrod).

Part of his multi level marketing scheme was to have pirates steal holy relics for spell slots and then use the holy relics as ammo against other devils and their ships.

Shot Gilear throught the chest on sight

Got a chain wrapped around his neck by Kystrona

After Gilear was brought back to life by Kristen, he said nice things to Gilear and gave him a massive glowing sword (which was too big for Gilear to wield). The bad kids were all deeply confused by how quickly he went from one extreme to another.

Offered Kristen snuff powder

Ordered his crew to shoot Riz out of a cannon to "help" him look for Pok

As his hook hand was stabbing into one of the three devils he was fighting, he took a legendary action to shake his fist and yell "That's my darling boy!" over Fabian "killing" Penelope. He corrected himself to yell "He's his own his darling man boy!"

When the gravity on the Goldenrod was dispelled, he told Fabian to take the helm before letting go on purpose, taking the three other devils with him (rescued by Adaine and Fig).

Alistair Ash

An intern on the Goldenrod

Skull is cracked open like an egg with part of it fully missing. Inside the socket is roiling fire. His eyes are rotted out, the fire shining through his sockets.

Attacked Fabian exclusively due to being left behind by him

How he was finished off: Fabian stood up, his body very bloody and burned from the beating he's took. Fire enshrouded his sheet as he wrapped Alistair in it in order to spin him like a top. As Alistair twirled in the air, the Hangman hit him in a flash. As Alistair popped of the wheel of the Hangman, Fabian took out Fandrangor (which was rippling with his own inner light and magic) and pierced Alistair's ribcage up through his heart. Silver motes of light burst out of Alistair's mouth, "eyes", and the empty socket of his skull. Bill cried a single tear out of his non ember eye as he said "It be beau-ti-ful". Fabian told his father "I'm my own man now." to which Bill answered "The story keeps getting better!" Meanwhile, Alistair changed his opinion on Fabian, seeing him as chosen one and (since he had to die for Fabian to become who he was) himself as chosen in a way. Fabian asked if Chungle Down Bim was still alive, but Alistair only yelled "He's gonna shit in your mouth!" before being destroyed. One of the many bottles on Bill's belt filled with a red mist that was Alistair, now even more in debt to Bill with another 2000 gold added to his tab to bring him back in another form later.

Cinder Pirates

The crew of the Goldenrod, most (if not all) of which being victims of Bill's pyramid scheme

Assended from ropes to their respective ships after raiding The Bottomless Pit, yoinking up crates and boxes filled with treasure (like books and weaponry) as they went.

Loaded the cannons of The Goldenrod with holy relics, books, golden reliquaries, holy water, and even the body of a dead saint (who was unceremoniously dumped out of his golden sarcophagus). All the relics almost looked like they were from other worlds.

Bill doesn't do the best job putting his followers back together, so most are in worse shape than Alistair. One was missing his entire jaw!

Most were finished off by Penelope's Cone of Cold

***

Bill's Pursuers

Devil Crafts

Iron zeppelins piloted by devils in pursuit of Seacaster.

Shoot ground to air missiles that shot spinning pentagrams of fire teleportation that glowed when they hit, teleporting in reinforcements.

Vraz The Mean, Lorzug The Impaled, and Kystrona The Chained

All appeared through a dimension door at the helm of the ship before the three devils began fighting Bill.

Vraz (after Fig denied a direct order) released all warlocks under Gortholax by making all his contracts null and void.

All of them (including Bill) do tramendous amounts of fire and poison damage, but all of them (including Bill) are immune to fire and poison, so the fight devolved into a bunch of very dangerous people who can't hurt each other just slapping the hell out of each other.

***

Greesers

Johnny Spells

Appeared via teleportation missile with his crew

Roiling in flame with veins glowing in a red light, using a snap comb to brush his hair back and wearing a black leather jacket with a clean white tee.

Hit Fabian with Ray of Fire and then was IMMEDIATELY tossed off the starboard side of the ship by Adaine using her Arcane Hand.

Was saved by Kystrona (via animate chain) before he fell to his "death"

Spent an entire turn to get back on the ship only to have his fire spell dismissed by Adaine.

How he was finished off: Flew off the ship (again) when it lost gravity, saying "No! I had stuff. I had plans. I had-" as he fell to his "death".

Johnny's Crew

Six teiflings greasers who appeared via teleportation missile wearing black leather jackets with clean white tees.

Two trampled over a dead Gilear to get to the teens.

How they were finished off: One was gored by Ragh before being tossed off the ship, one was spartan kicked off the deck by Ragh, two were killed by Gorgug, and two were destroyed by Fig's psionic blast

***

Harvestmen & Friends

Penelope Everpetal

Got to Goldenrod via teleportation missile with Dayne, Daybreak, and four Scarecrow Harvestmen.

Had sunken deep pools of darkness for eyes. She wore a burnt prom queen dress. Jagged shards of metal were stabbed into her skull like a crown (which caused blood to trickle down).

Was protected from magic most of the fight due to casting Globe Of Invulnerability

Stepped forward with a corny line ("Oh I'm so sorry guys. It's time to chill out.") before casting Cone of Cold which took out Tracker, Boggy, Hangman, and most of Bill's crew.

Was knocked off the ship by Fabian and fell down into the sky over the Iron City of Dis, shreaking and wailing as she went. Saved herself by using Misty Step to get back to the ship.

How she was finished off...

Penelope: *appeared in a twirl of magic and hit Fabian with a Firebolt, knocking him down to 4HP* I'm so sorry that you had like... some sort of collapse and appear to be fighting with a blanket now, but I just wanna tell you something. We are gonna drag you and all your shitty stupid little- what? Bad kid friends to hell. Forever.

Fig: I actually already live here. I'm an arch devil.

Fabian: Yeah! Did you hear that? She already lives here!

Kalvaxus: Again if we [re con noise] it later. This fight seems mostly lost. Use reason!

Penelope: Now. It's time for you to go bye bye Fabian *starts casting another spell*

Fabian: (crit, mobile florish, plus 2nd level spell slot with Fandrangor) *throws up his sheet so it blocks her field of vision (like how people trick their pets) and then grabs her and tango swing dancing spins her off the ship as she yells and is destroyed as motes of silver light shoot out*

Dayne Blade

Burning ember flaming vains with a hellish gleam to his eyes

Doesn't know how long he's been there

How he was finished: Begged Gorgug to not "kill" him due to him being an Owlbear, but was ignored. He tried once more, saying "Dude dude dude we're both Owlbears!" but Gorgug simply answered "You're not an Owlbear anymore" before he chopped off Dayne head. Gorgug then pretended his head was a ball and that he was going for a pass.

Coach Daybreak

Burning ember flaming vains with a hellish gleam to his eyes, a whistle, a silvered halberd, and regenerating health

Aggressively targeted Tracker and Kristen (even as Gorgug literally stood over Kristen) and knocked Kristen out at one point

Yelled "No!" while flames shot out of his ears at the thought of ending toxic masculinity

Freaked out over Gorgug being an Owlbrear

Not a true devil, just a soul trapped in hell that was powerful enough in life to fight for the devils, punished to never understand why he was there (Brennan "He cannot find peace, but he can find you").

How he was finished: Daybreak shouted "I'm gonna kill you all. All of you deserve to be here, not me. I was a holy man! *points to Fig* YOU ARE A LITERAL ARCH DEVIL!" Fig answered "Yeah bitch it's fun!" before she used a 4th level psionic blast on him. He screamed as he was knocked off the ship and eviscerated by both Fig's psionic blast and the after effects of her booming blade* (Fig also steals his visage)

Scarecrow Men

The transfigured bodies of four former harvestmen who died

Burnt charred skin, flannel button up shirts, and heads of burlap sacks with scarcrow eyes, which were slightly aflame

How they were finished off: one was killed by Adaine's lightning bolt and the other three were gone in a flash of light by Kristen's destructive wave

***

Dis and Pok

Iron City of Dis

Choking smoke and freezing rain

Endless sprawling cast iron metropolis of dread, misery, and torture

Alarms (clacksaws I think Brennan said?) rang as the devils shouted "It's Seacaster!"

The city was lit up by Goldenrod (while the other ships in the armada caught up)

Building Holding Pok

At least one dark red and black stained glass window (which Riz crashed through). The room within was empty due to all the devils hearing the alarms and fleeing.

Dark hallway leading to a light coming out from under a closed doorway. A slightly ajar door was next to it and a possible third door with steal thrones was next to that. The slightly ajar door had a somewhat reflective marble wall (where a reflection of Pok could be seen from the hall) and a two way mirror that showed an interrogation room.

Pok

A goblin who was strapped to a chair and had a swolen eye. A pit fiend also splashed acid in his face

Was interrogated by a pit fiend flanked by two barbed devils

Kept a good poker face around the devils, at one point was snarling and growling as he had (what appeared to be) a goblinoid frenzy come over him

Was lacerated by barbed whips handled by the barbed devils until he collapsed, asking why he was there as he coughed up blood and appeared to go unconscious.

Shot both barbed devils in the head with his gun (which he picked off of Riz) as they were restraining Riz

Reached up and slapped his right ear to call for an extraction as a halo appeared behind his head. He reached out to grab Riz (Kid, I can't believe you made it here) before a beam of celestial light smashed through the ceiling. He confirmed that he was an undercover angel before raising his fist up in a superman pose as the beam made a loud sound and took the pair away.

***

Questions and Thoughts

How does Lorzug move, much less fight?

Fig shouldn't have told Vraz to eat her ass. She might have taken her up on it and tried to take a bite out of her ass. O_O

What IS a potentate?

How will Fig use her warlock abilities after being released? Was her insignia burning in her forehead how she's still able to do it?

Is Dayne's curse to never know how long he's been there?

How short is Adaine that our three Owlbears (all over 6 feet tall) didn't notice her when they went in for a three way chest bump?

Destructive Wave is the power of pissed off protective girlfriend energy.

When Kristen was knocked out, she was back in Silvar looking at a nice tree. Possible connection to the unknown goddess?

Adaine still has Johnny's warlock switchblade comb.

Will we get updated Pok art now?

Where is Riz now and how will he get back in time? Was this Kalina's plan all along (blow Pok's cover and delay the party longer to give them more of a lead)?

I am well aware that I spelled Alistair several different ways because I have no clue how to spell it and don't have it on my list of how I might spell it.

Please somebody teach Bill how to not suck at making bodies. I mean, I'm over here feeling sorry for those cinder zombies and between the crippling debt and unpaid internships, he could at LEAST give them working bodies with jaws and stuff.

Really paying attention made the 69 scene so much funnier and makes Ayda's confusion over it being a sex act so much more priceless. The couple was fully clothed, Kristen caressed Gorgug's leg while she was unconscious and being healed by Tracker, and (according to Brennan) Tracker just gave Kristen a sweet kiss. Part of me wonders if Tracker was messing with the group while Kristen came to thinking something dirty happened and just went with it, the other teens too inexperienced to know otherwise (save Ayda who must be so confused! XD).

The uselessness of Johnny Spells was one of my favorite parts of the stream.

Anybody else super happy Bill was so supportive of Fabian coming into his own, being supportive of his friends, and embracing dance?

Bill/Vraz. Nuff said.

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Somewhere in Faerûn, there’s a tabaxi, a bugbear, a werewolf, and a tiefling all sitting in a boat. There’s a triton in the water but she’s not alone. In a split second, one of the others will have to do something about it. An excerpt from my last homegame session. Combat-heavy one-shot.

Blue and Will are and have been giving each other the silent treatment for the better part of six hours now.

Rime is professionally friendly, but he can only make so much neutral single party conversation before getting annoyed and settling in to watch the river. Their three-boat caravan of small outrigger canoes continues steadily up river – powered by the tireless efforts of the hunkered bugbear jammed uncomfortably into the lead boat. With him is Bian – their smallish tabaxi navigator who’s perched somewhat absurdly on the back tip of the canoe like a lightly armored counter balance.

The second boat, lashed between Rime and Bian’s respectively, is empty save a single occupant. He lies very still, shivering occasionally beneath the worn travel blanket that Rime very carefully tucked around him some hours ago. Tivas hasn’t regained consciousness since the closing of the water purification ritual that went non-stop these last thirty-six hours. Rime was careful to pack the ritual instrument – the Blossom of Beauties – into the druid’s pack and tuck it protectively under his arm.

Tivas, even thralled by delirium, pulled the sacred thing close (pulled close the vehicle of his death) and Rime had to get back into the third boat. Blue commented, eventually, that the flowers ringing Rime’s headband were a weird silver and he told her, simply, “Yeah they do that,” with no further explanation.

So Rime is still in the back boat when they reach the salt marsh.

Bian has her back to Rime so he can see the twitching white length of her tail going this way and that as she scans the foggy western shore. Occasionally, she shoots Rime meaningful looks and Rime grimaces significantly back. Vorgut, the big black-furred bugbear, rows furiously while likewise sending glances toward the reed-choked river bank. His giant, tattered, bat-like ears swivel nervously.

Somewhere to Rime’s right, Blue rows as well, but less out of geographical anxiety than pure, domestic rage and need to put that rage somewhere. Preferably in the water and not directly into the back of her husband’s half-elf skull. She’s a small, blue and white blur of flexing arm muscle, muttering softly to herself in furious Aquan. So she doesn’t notice Rime taking a more attentive crouch in the boat.

Will looks up from his book and scans the waters.

“Hey, Rime.”

“Mmm,” says Rime, rather than use thaumaturgy to speak just yet.

“What’s going on? I’ve got the heebie-jeeebies.”

Rime snaps his fingers and the spell murmurs almost directly into Will’s ear: “Shh. Lizard folk live out there.” He jerks his head toward the salt marsh. “We need to be careful.”

“They wanna eat us,” Bian says without looking away from what she’s doing up front.

Blue, hearing this, growls something like, “Good,” under her breath.

And, naturally, that’s when the first javelin slams with a loud thunk into the side of Tivas’ canoe. The entire party stares, horrified, for moment. Except of course for Blue, who lunges eagerly to her feet with her wand in hand and anticipating a target. That does not happen because a second javelin already airborne immediately slams into Blue’s stomach with such force it knocks her with a scream into the bottom of the boat and blood splatters across Rime’s startled face.

Will howls, “Blue!”

But the javelins have already begun to rain down.

“Bian!” Rime hooks his arm through his battle shield and lunges back toward Blue. “Get us out of here!”

Blue – teeth bared, screaming like a banshee – is snapping the javelin between her webbed fists. She hurls the long part of the shaft into the water, keeping the head of the spear embedded in her gut. She doesn’t waver or try to rise. She raises her hands and instantly, an unnatural slither of white mist condenses from the river waters. A nearly opaque cloud-wall forms between the shore and their boat, veiling them in a literal smokescreen. Rime feels a wind driving like a kick into the back of the third canoe and Blue just lies there, bright-eyed and snarling, her off-hand gripping the javelin.

Magic floods Rime’s hands.

It courses hot from his heart down the track of his arms to his palms. He wills the magic like lightning courses to ground – Blue, Will, and Bian. The blessing diffuses through each of them. Unfortunately, it happens precisely as Will is attempting to jump from their boat into the middle boat and he nearly biffs it, boot slipping so he topples head first into Tivas’ canoe. Bian is already yelling to Vorgut to row faster and easterly. The boats begin to swing toward the opposite shore, far away from the marsh.

Javelins soar from the fog – hitting the walls of the boats, the water around them. One nearly wings the ropes that lash the third boat to the second. Seeing this, Blue waves a hand and a ripple-like mirage passes over the ropes… then a knotted tangle of a dozen ropes appears there, obscuring the target. Will, meanwhile, wrenches a javelin from the side of the boat and without warning, he swells. His spine bows up. Dark fur erupts from the back of his neck and spreads instantly across his body and as Rime watches, stunned, the newly shifted werewolf winds one massive arm back and whips the javelin right back across the shore.

Then he does it again. Over and over. Across the shore, there’s a scream as a spear going ninety miles per hour surely smashes through several lizard men.

Rime maneuvers to the back of the boat and kneels directly between Blue and the foggy enemy-infested shore. They crouch together behind his shield, peering into the mist but no more javelins come. There’s just… motion somewhere in the long grasses and reeds. As Rime’s vision adjusts to the fog… he realizes the shore is literally swarming with lizard folk. The reeds bristle with spears and glinting eyes.

Rime braces the shield more securely. “You see them?”

“Oh, yessss I do,” Blue hisses.

Rime hears her flick the wand of magic missile somewhere directly over his head. There’s a flash and eighteen screaming beads of neon light rip across the river like tiny, hyper-speed fireflies before arching up, then divebombing into the crowd. There’s a sound of wet screaming and bursting. Gore and skull fragments pop as if from red balloons along the shore. Behind him, Rime hears Blue muttering in Aquan and he’d bet it means, “Fuck you fuck you fuck you, I win!”

Will, seeing his wife at work, lays down his sword a moment and grabs the oars to join Vorgut in furious rowing.

Rime – seeing this and hearing the continued guttural shrieks of torment still issuing from Blue’s blast zone – closes his eyes. He presses one hand to his chest, over the three-star sigil of Lliira and for a moment simply mouths, “Show me,” and looks skyward.

It’s instantaneous. The knowing rushes through his head and through his body, takes possession of him in a jolt of sudden muscle memory. Rime shudders, then grabs the oars from where Blue left them and with a sailor’s stolen confidence, begins to pull them asymmetrically through the waters, swinging the tail boat into Will’s rowing, and then into Vorgut’s.

And the boats are suddenly traveling snug to the western shore, so far beyond the range of the javelins that again, no weapons are thrown. For a full ten minutes, Rime expertly navigates the outrigger along the edge of the shore until the light of Lliira fades like a touch from his mind and he loses that sailor’s expertise easy as amnesia. At the front of the boat, Bian is alertly watching the river with one eye and Vorgut’s navigation with the other.

Will, in his boat, says, “Fuck. They’re coming.”

There are splashes from the far shore. Bodies getting quickly through the waters toward them as about forty lizard folk abandon long-range in favor of swimming directly at their small canoes. Blue, behind Rime, staggers up still impaled by the javelin. She hisses, “Let me at ‘em!” and before Rime can tell her to stop fucking moving with a spear in her gut, she raises her arcane focus and throws a fistful of sand into the water.

Magic flashes. Suddenly about half the charging lizard folk go limp mid-swim. Rime sees their eyes slide peacefully, magically shut as they are sucked down by the river’s current and disappear beneath the dark waters.

A force of over twenty furious, screaming lizard-folk are still powering like scaly, ravenous missiles through the water. Rime again takes position between Blue and the enemy, pulling her close behind him and bringing the shield up in one hand. With the other, he raises it palm out toward the waters… and he hesitates.

He can hear Will yelling and hacking furiously as the first wave of lizard men attempt to swarm his canoe. Bian is hissing and snarling, just beheading and hacking into the water. Rime can smell Blue’s blood on the wood and slick on her dress.

Lizard folk hit the third boat.

Wounded, the water frothing with blood, they claw and grab. Gored by Bian, mutilated by Will, the survivors bump down the line of the outriggers to claw madly at the last boat. The grapple the rigs, pulling themselves up, trying to get at both Rime and the wounded sorceress behind him only to be bashed in the face by a shield, but they’re starting to pile on. Rime can’t… he can’t just drive them off. They dragg the boat like an anchor, water sloshing into the…

“Fuck,” Rime whispers.

And summons his spiritual weapon.

It manifests instantly, a bright spinning ball of carnival ribbons hovering like a giant dandelion tuft just above the water… then it swings down, gliding to skim the water, the ribbons foaming the surface as it hooks down to pass along the right side of the head boat where, in a spray of pureed bone, blood, and meat, the razor-sharp ribbons shear one lizard man’s arm off at the elbow, then beheads the fellow behind him. Then on down the line like a meteorite of frothing water and blood, dismembering and bludgeoning any clinging enemies until it reaches that last boat.

The weapon stops directly in front of Rime and grinds a bloody, screaming, person-free space into the waters next to Rime’s shield. This does not last. There are… far too many and even the horror and losses don’t seem to sway them. The lizard folk bash against Rime’s still raised shield, hooked over the side of the boat and he shoves them again, bashes one of them in the face, watches that face shred off the skull when he falls into the weapon.

Blue grabs Rime’s shoulder.

She hisses a little frantically in his ear, “How do you feel about taking a hit?”

To which Rime grits, cheerfully, using his real, demonic voice in all its hissing horror, “Pretty good!”

“Okay!”

Then Blue dives off the back of the boat like a suicidal swimmer toward the lizard-folk infested waters. She arcs up, twisting midair, arms out. A wind catches her Triton frame like a slender kite on an updraft. It carries her upwards, spinning her so for a strange, impossible moment she is almost vertical, upside-down, white hair blown out around her face with her hand out… and she casts thunder wave.

She casts directly at the last boat, Rime, and all the lizard folk upon it.

Rime slams his shield down, grabs a bench and braces as the electricity hits him in a white-hot, screaming wave of pain. Every muscle seizes with a hideous rigor as the lightning courses through him. It hits him like a blow to blast him back, but he holds the fuck onto the boat. He hears the wood splinter, water flood over his boots. For a horrible moment he sees white, then stars, and then the sky reeling above him. Lizard folk are still screaming. He can hear them scrabbling at the out rigging, banging into the canoe walls as they still, still keep on coming.

Then Blue drops with a little shriek into the boat again, almost knocking Rime over, and Will is bellowing, “Jump! Jump! You gotta get in here!”

Rime moves on a dizzy, static-buzzed instinct. He rolls, pivoting to face the middle boat and Will who stands at the back with one hand frantically out stretched and the other holding a blazing scimitar. Rime staggers, still seeing stars and feeling the buzz in his bones. He reaches the front of the boat, drives one foot down on the bow and jumps, landing directly in the second boat and immediately losing his shield from his static-numb arm.

Blue. Is Blue –?

He turns… just in time to see Blue try to follow him. He’s in time to watch it happen, as if in slow motion, as the sorceress’ blood-slick boot squeaks out from beneath the driving lunge off her right leg… and she loses half of her momentum instantly. Rime watches her fall, one arm outstretched toward them – Will and Rime both staring in horror – as she falls into the writhing, blood-red waters.

Split second: Will is screaming.

Split second: The lizard folk start to swarm.

Split second: Bian yells.

And Rime feels his focus like a razor’s edge along the arcane line from his mind to the spiritual weapon. The cyclone ball of ribbon rockets up the side of the boat and every ribbon in its composition loses any bluntness they formerly possessed. What hits the bodies of the lizard folk hits with molecular-sharp indifference and with no clear difference in texture between bone, meat, and water, the weapon plows down into the river and the waves blacken, then redden, then thicken with blood and body parts. The ribbons are no longer any other color but blood red.

Blue tucks into a ball as the weapon screams a horrifying orbit around her, over and over, clearing a ring of mutilation. It’s so precise, it never touches her. Only the ones it intends to harm.

Eventually, the river is clear around her. The remaining lizard folk still alive, screaming, and mauled, swim away back toward the marsh. Blue unfolds herself beneath the water, kicks up, and her head breaks the water by the back of the second canoe now cut free of the third. The water is red around her pale blue face. She blinks up at Rime, bright eyes a little shell-shocked and glassy. Her white hair is pink as Rime catches her arm with a shaking hand and pulls her from the river.

Rime does it carefully, turning her onto her back as he drags her into the bed of the boat.

Will is already pulling Tivas (still unconscious) to the other side of the boat to make room as Rime arranges the tiny Triton woman on the floor and immediately checks the fucking head of the javelin still stuck between her hip bone and her belly. Rime promptly rips her dress open a little to get a better look and presses his fingers into the flesh around the puncture, trying to gauge the depth. Blood pulses around the head of the spear, turning the water puddled beneath her a dark red.

“Blue.” Rime smacks her cheek a little until she looks at him, his real voice grating and seething with whispers. “Are you okay?”

“Eh-heh?” Blue kind of whines.

Rime takes that to mean she’s in shock and therefore not fully aware. So with one hand he yanks the javelin from her gut and with the over dumps a minty-hot rush of healing magic down the tunnel of shredded muscle and perforated gut. Lightly perforated though. Just barely. Rime feels the magic knit her back together until the spell runs dry beneath his fingers. He peels his blood-tacky palm from her stomach… and there’s nothing but a shallow, scabbing cut where a four-inch gouge once gaped.

“You’ll gonna be fine,” Rime says, water dripping from the circlet of flowers around his head. He knows without seeing them, they will be an eye-aching orange. “Dummy. Why the hell did you stand up? You just wanted to give them a target? Give me something to do?”

Blue kinda grins dimly up at him.

“I got ‘em,” she slurs.

Rime looks over the side of the boat, to the receding red waters as the river current eddies and pulls the blood out to sea. He thinks, vaguely, I’ve just lost count. I don’t know how many I’ve killed now. Then he looks back the Blue and Will and Bian perched anxiously at the back of the first boat. Bian’s eyes are big, her tail fluffed anxiously out. He puts on a smile.

“We’re fine,” he says. “Let’s get to Daggerford.”

[spiteweaver]

previous | next

“Again.”

“You’re pushing him too hard.”

“Magic isn’t like machinery; you can’t brute force it.”

“I said again.”

The workshop was lit briefly in flickering shades of blue and white. Behind a bubble of Arcane magic, Volskaya, Crucis, and Isaiah observed. It was clear by Volskaya’s stance that he was impatient; his arms were crossed over his chest, and his foot tapped a brisk tune against the floor. Crucis, meanwhile, glanced between the proceedings and the notebook in his hands, only rarely sparing his fellow ambassador a disapproving look.

“You’ll kill him at this rate,” the Fae tutted.

“I vill kill you if you don’t shut up,” Volskaya spat.

Isaiah said nothing, but balled his hands into fists and gritted his teeth.

When the light faded, giving way to the dim lanterns that Volskaya worked by, the trio turned to the clock behind them. “Rubbish,” Volskaya snorted, “that vas complete rubbish. His time is getting vorse, not better.”

“He’s exhausted,” Isaiah said defensively. “He needs to rest in between attempts.”

“He von’t have time to rest if he is helping to power the clan’s machines,” Volskaya insisted. “The entire kingdom vill depend on him. This is vhat he vanted, and he asked for my guidance, not yours.”

“You can’t brute force it,” Crucis repeated, screwing up his face as he made note of the latest time. “The fact that he can use any magic at all is a miracle in and of itself; if you don’t ease him into it, we’ll have another magical mishap on our hands.”

“Feh!” Volskaya waved Crucis’ concerns away with another snort. “You and your ‘magical mishaps!’ He is not a child! I vill not baby him!”

“He’s had no formal teaching,” Isaiah persisted. “You can’t start him out performing advanced magic when he’s never learned the basics.”

“Whose fault is that?” Volskaya sneered.

“Stop it, all of you!”

Isaiah had rounded on Volskaya--to chastise or beat him, he wasn’t certain. Something nasty sparked in the air between them. Volskaya raised a brow, as if to goad Isaiah further, but the doctor only swore and returned his attention to the center of the room, where one of Volskaya’s contraptions stood still and silent.

“Sorry,” Crucis said, “Volskaya’s just being difficult, as usual.”

“Are you all right, Xerxes?” Isaiah asked.

It was a stupid question with an obvious answer. Xerxes was on his last legs, trembling in his wheelchair as his body was wracked by aftershocks. “Yes,” he said, but gasped as his muscles seized again. “Give me a minute. I only need to rest for a minute.”

“It’s over,” Isaiah said, and pushed his way through Crucis’ shield. “I’m pulling the plug.”

“That’s his decision to make, Isaiah,” Crucis called after him, “not yours.”

“Whose side is he on?” Isaiah grumbled. The air around Xerxes crackled with electricity, remnants of his mismatched magic. Isaiah’s arm cramped, but he barely felt it as he knelt at Xerxes’ side and began his examination. “Your heart’s not going to take much more of that,” he said, “and if that doesn’t get you, the seizures will. We can try again when you’re stronger.”

“And when will that be?” Xerxes asked. Isaiah flinched, and quickly averted his gaze when Xerxes tried to meet it. “I’m not going to get any stronger than I am now, and you know it. An eon, a cycle, an Age--if I can’t do it now, I won’t be able to do it then.”

“You’ve been hanging ‘round with Crucis and I too often,” Isaiah said. “Our pessimism is rubbing off on you. You’re too young to be a crotchety old drake, Xerxes.”

“It’s not...” Xerxes inhaled sharply. His jaw clenched, and his body jerked, forcing quiet, shrill whines up through his throat. Isaiah could only watch for the several agonizing moments it took for the tremors to subside. “It’s not fair,” Xerxes panted, “it not fair that I’m still so useless.”

“You’re of more use to everyone alive than you are dead.” Isaiah pressed the back of his hand to Xerxes’ forehead. A weakening heart, seizures, and now a fever to top it all off. “I know this means a lot to you,” he said, “but doing it all at once isn’t the only way. You’re in too much of a rush. Volskaya knows how to jury-rig a generator, but magic is Crucis’ area of expertise.”

“He agreed with you?”

“Of course he did. The two of us practically raised you.”

Xerxes laughed softly, but it quickly devolved into a hacking cough. His chest felt like it was in a vice; he clutched at it weakly with one hand, the other searching for Isaiah’s to hold. “I have to be able to do this much,” he wheezed, “I have to. Everyone else has already found their place. Emir, and Elspeth, and Rubedo, and La--uh--well, everyone.”

Clearing his throat, Xerxes sank lower in his wheelchair, and turned his face away under the guise of another coughing fit. Unfortunately for him, Isaiah was no fool, Xerxes was a bad actor, and the color rising in his cheeks would have been a dead giveaway regardless.

“This is about Lamium, isn’t it?” Isaiah hissed. “You stupid, lovesick boy.”

“You could have just said ‘lovesick,’” Xerxes mumbled.

“Do you honestly think he wants you to kill yourself just so you can impress him?” Isaiah asked hotly. Xerxes shook his head. “Does he know about this?” Xerxes hunched his shoulders, and Isaiah got to his feet. “Well, he will soon enough.”

“Don’t tell him!” Xerxes begged, gripping Isaiah’s arm with frantic desperation. “I’m useless to him, Isaiah! I’m useless as a friend, and I’d be useless as anything more! Please, it’s not just about him! It’s about the clan! I’m not a child anymore; I can’t keep relying on others to take care of me! It’s humiliating!”

Isaiah rolled his eyes skyward, and let out a long, exasperated sigh. Ah, to be young and emotionally vulnerable; he remembered what it was like to pursue something (or someone) so recklessly. “Xerxes,” he said, “you have a very warped idea of what it means to love someone.”

“No, I--” Xerxes let his hands fall away, back into his lap, where they fidgeted with the loose fabric of his robes. “When he looks at me,” he muttered, “I want him to see someone strong.”

“He does,” Isaiah said. Xerxes laughed again, bitterly. “Stop that. You’re worse than Shard Junior.”

“Junior doesn’t need to feel like I do,” Xerxes said. “He’s brilliant. He’s the best magical theorist any of us has ever met, and he has a husband, and he has children, and--”

“He had to fight for all of that,” Isaiah reminded, “he and Zo both.”

Xerxes didn’t appear convinced (perhaps some of Crucis and Isaiah’s stubbornness had rubbed off on him as well), so Isaiah dropped back into a crouch. Away behind them, he could hear Volskaya bickering with Crucis. “You’re going to do what we say,” Crucis said, “or so help me, by the Eleven, I’ll have Branwen burn your workshop to the ground.”

“You don’t have the balls!”

“You’ll find out exactly what kind of balls I have, Mr. Sokolov.”

“Doctor! I am a doctor! I didn’t earn a PhD to be called ‘Mr. Sokolov’ by the likes of you!”

“Not to reopen old wounds,” Isaiah went on, “but you survived on your own for three days, in the desert, without food or water. You survived every test and treatment Crucis and I threw at you. Despite all odds, you survived your first night here, and the next, and into adulthood, longer than we ever thought you would. You can walk, you can talk, you’re improving every day. Xerxes, Crucis told me you would never use magic.”

“He was right...”

“You just used it, even if it wasn’t for very long.”

“It nearly killed me!”

“Because you’re impatient. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Xerxes moved to look away again, but Isaiah grasped his chin with a firmness the young Spiral knew well. “You are strong,” Isaiah said, “and true strength doesn’t come from getting everything right the first time. You struggle for it; you fight for it. The world deals you a bad hand, and you win the game regardless. That’s strength. That’s you.”

A brief silence settled between them, lasting only the length of a single breath. Isaiah watched tears gather in Xerxes’ eyes, and then as he blinked them away, his face set in grim determination. It faltered, however, when he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Isaiah’s; suddenly, he was the little boy Isaiah remembered him as, who smelled of marigolds and lightning.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You and Crucis always know just what to say.”

“We’ve gotten better at it,” Isaiah said, “since you came along.”

“I’m going to tell Lamium how I feel.”

Isaiah choked on his response. Of all the things he’d expected Xerxes to say in that moment, that hadn’t been one of them. As he scrambled to recover, Volskaya and Crucis joined him at Xerxes’ side. Crucis was still taking notes, but all of Volskaya’s attention was on Xerxes. He was frowning.

Sensing trouble, Isaiah rose, seeming to shed his shock like an old coat--but Volskaya held up a hand. “I am not here to berate him,” he assured, “only to say that, perhaps, ve ought to take things slow after all. There is no rush; ve have plenty of other means of generating electricity. You came to me for guidance, and so I should give it, rather than treating you as one of my machines.”

“It’s...” Xerxes blinked incredulously. “It’s ok,” he said, “really, I’m the one who pushed myself too hard.”

“Then ve are in agreement.” Volskaya thrust out his hand. “Starting tomorrow, ve vill vork at your pace. I still expect you to do as I say, but--” His eyes cut to Isaiah-- “I vill listen to you, and to your caretakers, in matters of your health.”

A grin split Xerxes’ face, and he grasped Volskaya’s hand firmly. “Can’t wait.”

@nostlenne​ @sophiellum-fr @serthis-archivist @airris-fr @jaxxem @reanimatedfr @jollyroger-fr @megane-pigeon @griminal-rising​ @windkissesfr​

[clement-weather]

Flames of War

The sounds of warfare resounded throughout the ruins of Eldre’thalas; the Dire Maul’s streets were running red as blasts of spellwork crashed into walls and caused  crumbling stone to crush upon melee fighters. 

The forces of the Alliance were retreating from their attempted assault.

Horde forces, supporting the ogre faction that made the city a residence, hounded men and women at every angle and direction during the escape.

Many soldiers fell back for the Southern borders.

Others clamored to make their own holes, breaking walls and clinging for hope.

Some fought their way North, struggling in their chaotic movements. 

Alison Clement kept committed to the last option with a coterie of other fighters. They’d pushed too far into the once-elven city and distanced themselves from any other option with every step that they took. 

She was rushing, especially hard, despite hearing the bovine roars of Tauren as they crushed pillars of wood onto her allies. A voice rang out, croaking its last as she ran away. It was familiar; a man, freshly recruited to the cause after being reminded of the Siege of Orgrimmar not but a few years ago and assured of victory following the Alliance’s fresh success against demonic invaders.

She couldn’t go back for him, nor anyone. 

“Keep moving! Hurry!” 

Her blonde hair was a mess, after having lost a battered barbute in favor of hearing close comrades as they each scoured the ruins for an exit. Lacerations at her brow caked her face in blood alongside other visceral details. 

The grime irritated her eyes and blurred her vision, but she couldn’t slow down. 

She was moving on instinct, barely yielding when the group found a fork to choose from.

“Left!” one man yelled, pathing down the street only to be crashed into by a frenzied Orc warrior. 

“Right!” his uncle ordered, contrasting and encouraging what was left of the group to keep moving despite his internal tragedy.

They ran, and ran, and ran, before breaking into a wider market space.

Alison still held onto her sword with her right hand at the hilt and the left keeping a tight grip half way down its blade. In pause between her Crusader-Fighting, she angled and brought one hand up to rub at the corner of her eyes so that she could take on a brief awareness of the setting.

Doing so, ironically, made her wince in pain. Her fingers were broken, but she could hardly remember the moment it happened. 

Was it when she were outside the central arena, being rebuked and countered by an orc who smashed his boot so harshly onto her right hand that she could hear its knuckles pop and phalanges fracture while curled around the hilt?

Or was it afterwards, when she took advantage of an ally’s assistance to climb atop that same orc, after he was cleaved, so that she could smash her fists so savagely that she briefly felt a sharp pain reverberate back into her palm?

Regardless, she was lucky that the hand had gone numb enough from the pain and strong enough to force the tendons to stay in a delicate curl around the tool. 

Her fingers were broken, but she wouldn’t let go.

The question had to be dismissed altogether, as she turned her attention to a thunderous roar of shamanic power. Crackling lightning struck a distance to the right, at an oil wagon, and acted the catalyst to a sundering explosion.

“Keep moving! Find cover and don’t fucking stop moving!” Alison cried out.

Two men wouldn’t be able to heed the call. The others were shook, but followed the hoarsely voiced instruction into a maze of crates and canopies.

The fire wasn’t too far behind, spreading across various flammable objects.

Going backwards was a death sentence, but the route ahead only had one single hope. Ladders raised up at a dead end of ancient stonework barriers, which were built to displace dirt and stone at the other side. 

Some men went immediately to climb, foregoing the fight. 

Those men fell back down, shot by ranged magic and mundane attacks alike.

The moment they halved the ladders’ height, it was a death trap; evocation spells from Sin’dorei were blasting the escape options apart, one by one. 

In a break of tragic desperation, a mage stepped backwards to sacrifice herself for the cause. She stepped away from her brothers and sisters, telling them to make the climb as she began some somatic gestures. 

A transmutation spell was cast to control the blazing fires, bringing a tempestuous pause onto the oncoming enemies. 

It gave enough time for Alison and a couple other soldiers to reach the top. 

There was also brief appreciation from Alison, as she recognized the spell; it was an entry-level cantrip that even she’d been practicing over the last several weeks, alongside the Evocation spell, “Firebolt.” 

That moment of appreciation shattered, however, when the shaman juggernaut revealed himself again. A competent, experienced troll, he challenged the mage’s spell. 

He broke the incantation, before breaking the mage sorceress in turn.

A nearby Kaldorei tried to fire arrows into the mass of hellfire, but it was no use. Alison reached for him and screamed in pained Common that they needed to keep moving. 

The wall they climbed onto leveled, ironically, into a tangle of dense forestry. It made little sense at this late hour, especially as most illumination was coming dimly from the city behind them.

“The further away, the better,” Alice assured before continuing.

They didn’t have time to rest, after all. And— Why would they, when the Horde had only just started its chase? The Alliance’s assault had gone on for a few hours and this escape effort had barely taken a fraction of the time.

They kept running, still hearing bellowing taunts coming from their pursuers. 

It was scornful.

Shameful.

“They’re gaining!” said a man warningly, while trying to make zigzagging movements. Most followed his example, save for one; he began sprinting further and further forward before the same shaman hurled a bomb of burning lava overhead. 

The ball split into portions; much of it fell onto a tree while a small amount landed at the furthest footman’s back. That was all it took, unfortunately. He let out a gasping howl from the heat, staggering in his movements. His comrades could catch up, but the assailants did so just as swiftly. A distant grunt’s firearm blew a musket-ball out and it pierced to his spine.

He dropped. 

Another bout of elemental magic was cast against the fleeing soldiers. Fire blew a distance ahead, being used from the tree nearby to force the Alliance to seek a different direction. 

Alison curved outwards, while encouraging her peers to continue left. 

She intended to mimic the mage’s sacrifice. 

“Keep going!” she demanded before slowing briefly and parting a hand out. She internalized the spell from earlier, taking her prior practice to exponential heights.

Do not think, act.   Willful focus intent. Disregard heat. Force. You are warmth.

The youthful knight closed her fist, then made a pulling gesture as if she were coaxing nature itself; in a way, she was. A blazing wave followed all of her fury, rushing like a tide onto the shaman. He was too prideful to consider suffering from heat, at the time of his chase, and suffered amply from it. 

Alison breathed in wearily, then started running further away from the massive plume of flames and smoke.

The troll’s yells didn’t cease, however. He kept wailing in wrath, eventually running out of the flame and leaping towards the knight. 

Wielding a massive club, he brought weight upon her with burning ire as an expression of his figurative and literal pain. 

The knight fell, topped by the smoldering fighter. In desperation, she kicked her feet and turned in an attempt to gain every inch away that was possible. 

When she turned her eyes upon his, though, all she saw was murderous intent. 

Her suffering was inbound, but ultimately intercepted as a row of arrows shot out from a distance. The ranger that Alison discouraged to linger, disobeyed and saved her life; his shots impacted the shaman’s chest, twice, and once into the very arm that held his weapon of choice. 

It gave her desperate hope and she took the opportunity.

Alison raised her left hand, again. Despite a painful sob, she forced the only other spell that was in her mental arsenal. 

Focus willful intent. Attribute target. You are energy. Unleash, propel. 

The mental incantations finished and, abruptly, a thunderous clap of arcane energy was evoked and shot forth into a combusting bolt of flame and fury against the troll.

He had only staggered a few feet away from her, so the impact was tumultuous.

Soot and ash rippled from the burst after a chaotic explosion, blowing Alison into a roll and her enemy off into the distance. 

She didn’t look to see if he survived, this time.  She heard a horn ring out, signalling that the Horde pursuers were overextending. They pulled away, back to the city’s outer borders.

With her comrade’s help, Alison broke further; they didn’t intend on chancing their survival. For every step that she took, however, a severe pain stabbed sharply at her lower back and coupled with short breaths; ribs had been broken and her lungs had been bruised by the club.

Rumors went abound between the survivors as they kept moving, then.

From their gnomish communicators, they were told reports of Alliance combatants pocketing all over the southern forests. 

They were safer in the North. 

The information was taken as opportunity and they ran with it, finding a hill and using its vantage to identify an uncontested road; a safe route for Feathermoon, the Alliance’s stronghold in the region.

The quick success was an overwhelming relief, forcing decompression on everyone and especially on Alison. She was so hopeful to find respite swiftly, that she began running down the steep slope. 

Unexpectedly, she skipped on a rock and began stumbling into a roll for the bottom. When she came to a stop, it was against a large stone; her knee bludgeoned it and sprained to add further issue during the trek’s last stretch.

Did she truly care, though? No. 

They were no longer being chased and she rose with quick composure despite her peers’ chagrin. 

After all— A woman with a limp can still stand for her friends.

[3d10fire-damage]

red sun summary (10/1/2020)

the session began with a bit of discussion about what our strategy would be for taking on the undefeated twins, Sudabeh and Siyavash. it was decided that plan A was for cluk to cast Enthrall on one of the twins so that her attention could be drawn to cluk rather than sticking close to her sister. plan B was for calypso to cast Darkness on one of the twins’ armor in order to obscure her vision and encourage them to separate so that at least one of them could see. the idea was to get the twins separated, split them up to make them easier to deal with, and to try and limit any range attacks the twins might have, since the party consisted of mostly melee fighters.

as combat began, cluk flew up to the central platform and sized up the twins. Siyavash wielded a halberd and Sudabeh held a rapier. both of them appeared to be strictly professional, despite the energy within the arena, with the crowd and everything. cluk considered which of them was hotter; she determined that Sudabeh was more reserved and collected and that she could picture Siyavash being at a party. with a flirty “hey babe” cluk cast Enthrall on Siyavash, but it didn’t take effect on the tiefling. cluk then switched her attention to the wooden box within a dome of glasses on the platform, figuring she’d need to smash the glass to get to the cards within. Mistral, khaela, and davke all started making their way around the eastern edge of the pit.

Siyavash and Sudabeh dashed over to cluk on the platform, ready to attack. as soon as they began to move, the crowd started going nuts. everyone seemed to have an affinity for them, the King’s own champions, so the enamored crowd cheered for both of them. setting plan B into motion, calypso cast Darkness on Siyavash’s armor, creating a bubble of darkness that encompassed both twins and cluk. calypso then moved onto one of the boards on Sudabeh’s side, hanging back to see what happened next. zoroe moved up toward the edge of the pit and readied a Sacred Flame for either of the twins, when she could see them, and Ku-aya did the same with her scimitar. Lawitse joined the “meat wall” (the meat cute) on the eastern side of the pit while phosphorra stayed back and prepared Fire Bolt for one of the twins. Hex slithered forward and held up a gem (her arcane focus) as a bolt of lightning shot up from the gem, forming a storm cloud above the arena. 

cluk, unable to flirt in the darkness, smashed the glass and took the wooden box with her as she flew back to land. the wooden box contained seven cards, which were unreadable, a bit like ink blots. Mistral, davke, and khaela held their attacks for either of the twins’ approach, khaela blocking off one of the boards leading from the platform to the edge of the pit. the darkness moved up slightly, partly obscuring calypso, suggesting Siyavash was near the middle board on the northern portion of the pit. Sudabeh emerged from the darkness at the west, and spotting calypso, took the dodge action. calypso stepped up to her, inviting her to dance and throwing a couple of punches. zoroe moved back from the encroaching darkness and cast Shield of Faith on calypso again. Ku-aya moved to stand in front of zoroe and took a defensive stance. Lawitse moved to block another board Siyavash might exit from and prepared an attack. phosphorra slid to the west toward Sudabeh, landing a critical with Fire Bolt on her, the deep red flame surpassing the tiefling’s resistance to fire. Hex came to khaela’s side. “you.” “yes?” “you hit pretty hard, right?” “yes.” Hex then pulled out a jar, whose ointment turned to mist and encompassed khaela. “make yourself useful for once.” with that, Hex cast True Seeing on khaela, revealing Siyavash within the darkness to her. the crowd was still cheering for the twins, invigorating Siyavash. however, seeing the fighting between calypso and Sudabeh and getting Into It, a small section of the crowd cheered for calypso, healing her somewhat. calypso took a second to blow a kiss to her fans.

cluk turned to the crowd, theatrically fanning out the seven mysterious cards before drawing one and holding it aloft so that the crowd saw the ink blot form into a skull before cluk did. the skull soon faded as an ethereal skeleton wielding a scythe appeared. this avatar of death told cluk “face me or die” though the rest of the party heard that cluk must face this challegen alone. cluk asked if this was like a slow dance kinda thing as she braced herself for a fight. the skeleton seemed to respect this, so cluk blew them a kiss and said “let’s dance.” across the battlefield, calypso shouted that that was her line, to which cluk responded “i GAVE it to you.”

Mistral stepped up to block another one of Siyavash’s exits. khaela, now able to see Siyavash, came up behind her and landed a hit with a Divine Smite. davke greeted Hex happily, saying that she was proud of her. Hex just barely tolerated this. Siyavash went on the defensive, preparing to dodge khaela’s next attacks. Sudabeh managed to hit calypso but the monk maintained her concentration on the Darkness spell. after taking some damage, calypso focused less on the crowd and more on Sudabeh, though her retaliation was deflected somewhat when Sudabeh parried one of her strikes with her own hand, somehow. zoroe’s next Sacred Flame didn’t connect with Sudabeh, and Ku-aya began to approach the tiefling. Lawitse, having watched khaela enter the darkness, dashed to join calypso, coming around the back of Sudabeh while phosphorra hit her again with Fire Bolt.

the crowd was confused by the avatar of death’s sudden appearance, but they were still enjoying the show, and cheered for cluk. the idea of the fighting within the darkness was exciting, but they couldn’t really see it, so they also cheered on for Sudabeh. cluk engaged in a little banter with the avatar of death, remarking that a one on one fight was intimate. her attack with House Edge missed because she was “trying to be sexy but not accurate.” she also threw some bardic inspiration to Lawitse. khaela scored a critical on Siyavash and expended another Divine Smite. davke readied an attack for the tiefling, telling her “you’re not getting to me or Hex, even if i can’t see you!” the avatar of death dealt some damage to cluk while Sudabeh shouted to Siyavash, “sister, stop fucking around!” khaela noticed that Siyavash looked guilty for a second before the twin touched her ring and disappeared. she then reappeared closer to her sister, and strangely, the darkness did not travel with her despite the spell being cast on her armor.

with the twins now close to each other, there was a potent thrum of energy in the air between them. Sudabeh struck calypso, dealing extra damage now and ending the Darkness spell. she then rounded on Lawitse and dealt some nasty damage. calypso again hit Sudabeh back, temporarily paralyzing her with Stunning Strike, and telling the rest of the party to "LIGHT THIS BITCH UP.” Sudabeh being stunned meant that zoroe’s Sacred Flame was an automatic hit, and Ku-aya landed two hits, one of them critical on the twin. Lawitse, exclaiming that she was tired of being hit, picked up the stunned Sudabeh and slam dunked her into the pit, sending her into the spikes below. calypso cheered at this and cluk emulated an electric guitar chord and the crowd made the pogchamp face. phosphorra nervously stared at Siyavash before scurrying west, using Cure Wounds at a distance on Lawitse. the crowd went bananas as Sudabeh was thrown into the pit. they loved Lawitse and cheered for the minotaur. that old aarakocra from earlier offered a bit more support for cluk in her struggle against the avatar of death. the crowd didn’t seem to like the skeleton, really. cluk Anted Up with House Edge and gave a longing look to the skeleton, and thanks to the crowd’s support, landed a critical on her opponent. the aarakocra in the crowd shed a single tear in pride. the avatar of death then returned the blow, even as cluk stared deeply into their eye sockets. Mistral’s attacks on Siyavash missed, and khaela followed the tiefling. “excuse me? we’re not done here.” after a couple of shots, khaela added “please, we were having a civil conversation...” davke, happy to be able to see better now without the darkness in the way, moved to the middle platform and offered some encouragement to everyone.

Siyavash turned to khaela, saying “very well, it’s time for payback” and striking her back. calypso came up on Siyavash’s other side. “guess who’s getting double teamed now?” despite her quip, calypso’s Stunning Strike didn’t work on Siyavash. below the combat, in the pit, calypso could just barely see Sudabeh, still alive and not impaled, but quite injured. Ku-aya approached, simply floating through calypso and attacking, prompting the monk to be like “the fuck was that?” phosphorra hit Siyavash with Fire Bolt, meanwhile Lawitse looked at the thin planks of wood the combat had migrated to. the minotaur hung back, deciding she had done her part in this particular fight, and assured zoroe she would keep the cleric safe. Hex dispelled Call Lightning and missed with Toll the Dead.

seeing that their beloved champions weren’t doing so well, the crowd had some mixed feelings, thinking it’s been a weird day. the announcer honed in on zoroe’s magic again. “the terrible abyssal witch has--” they were cut off suddenly as the skeleton within the crowd, that had earlier been knocked apart, bopped ‘em one and sent them to the floor. the skeleton shouted, “that’s Sacred Flame, you fucking idiot!” zoroe therefore received some healing from the crowd. the crowd also threw some rocks at Hex, demanding to see some bloodshed from her. cluk Anted Up again, but missed the avatar of death, who then hit her again. Mistral dealt some damage to Siyavash, who was now locked in a four on one battle, surrounded on all sides on the boards. khaela hefted Siege, telling Siyavash “well, that was not very nice” and knocked her out. she chose not to kill her here, out of respect, given the twins’ reputation. calypso shook her head at Siyavash, saying she should’ve thanked khaela and “those were some tasty hits, oughta be grateful.” davke cheered for everyone (the crowd said they loved her back), only for Sudabeh to reappear behind calypso in a puff of mist. her ring flashed red, and soon Siyavash returned to consciousness, as if some of Sudabeh’s blood had been pulled from her and given to her sister. the thrum of energy between the twins returned again, and Siyavash attacked khaela, knocking the paladin out. Siyavash then rounded on calypso, but failed to hit her. Sudabeh looked to Lawitse, and landed a killing blow on the minotaur. the party gaped as their ally fell, calypso telling her she fought well just before she was gone.

calypso landed a hit on Sudabeh, then zoroe finished her off with Sacred Flame. the crowd murmured vaguely in debate on whether holy magic can kill someone or not. Ku-aya swiftly struck Siyavash and brought her to her end as well. calypso spat out “and stay down!” and zoroe, panting, muttered to herself that this was for Melu. at their champions’ defeat, the crowd fell into a stunned silence. but then the crowd began to roar and cheer for the party. phosphorra was still rather nervous, not used to crowds and being the center of attention. calypso played to the crowd a bit, but was also distracted by khaela being unconscious on the boards. phosphorra, sparing a sad glance at Lawitse, healed her back to consciousness, and calypso wondered what the fuck was going on with cluk and the avatar of death at the southern end of the arena.   cluk, knowing she was in serious danger, drew another card from her miniature deck. the ink blot formed into a lightning bolt, and suddenly lightning shot through the bard and into the wall behind her. this knocked cluk out, causing the avatar of death to disappear... so cluk effectively won the battle via loophole. as zoroe went to give a healing potion to her downed party member (muttering about taking a swing at the announcer), calypso crouched down to khaela. “you good, fangs?” khaela looked up at her blearily. “hey tinderbox...” calypso laughed and took that as a yes, helping the paladin to her feet. the crowd continued losing its collective mind as the announcer told the party to go claim their prize. the northern doors opened for them as zoroe continued to mutter about how the announcer doesn’t know magic, and the party proceeded. once through the doors, the party was met with an imposing woman wearing red robes over bulky armor. there was a spiked warhammer slung over her shoulder, and she had a scarred face and only one eye, though she appeared to wear these scars with pride. she told the party they had some nerve coming to Misitu after what they pulled. “by the King’s law, i have to escort you to the palace. you have an hour to rest.” during that rest was the rolling of some much needed hit dice, and Hex approached zoroe and asked how many spells she had left in her. zoroe told her that she had enough, and that it was kind of Hex to offer to help. Hex crossed her arms, waiting for an actual answer. zoroe crossed her arms as well. “tell me.” “i did.” “...fine.”

Hex then turned and went to phosphorra instead. phosphorra admitted she had maybe gotten carried away. “give me your hand.” phosphorra did so, and Hex took her hand. cluk joked that it was a bit early in their relationship to be holding hands. phosphorra felt some sort of power flow through her, restoring some of her spell slots. Hex stated she wasn’t going to help cluk with her spell slots. cluk pointed out she was losing HP, actually. calypso asked “what the fuck is HP?” khaela suggested they were hotness points. “oh. well, she’s got plenty of those.” calypso also checked if zoroe was okay, since she had been hit with several volleys of rocks from the crowd. zoroe assured her she was fine, and then asked if calypso was okay, since she had been the middle of things. “ah, m’fine. i smell gross, though.” phosphorra, ever the mom friend, looked the tiefling over carefully and used Prestidigitation to clean off some of the stink from the soup cauldron.

after an hour, the armored woman and a few other guards led the party to the palace. it didn’t appear as well guarded as one might expect, as if there had been an emergency, and the King’s troops were needed elsewhere. before they reached the gates, the armored woman stopped and turned to the party. “look. you’ve caused enough pain.” calypso muttered a “you’re welcome.”  the armored woman asked if the party was here to kill the King, and at their affirmative answer, she made a proposition. “it doesn’t have to end here. you can stop this. you can just leave. if you were to disappear through the alleys and meet me at the city gates at sunset, you’d be left alone as long as you vowed not to come back. i’ll even pay you.” zoroe told her they couldn’t do that, and asked if this woman had seen the pain caused by the King beyond this city. the woman responded that she would’ve starved without the King, and she owed everything to this kingdom now. there was some back and forth, calypso at one point saying she kinda wished this woman had starved. finally the woman relented, concluding the party wasn’t the type to be reasonable and take means or money to leave quietly.

as the party was led into the palace, they could see fresh carvings and art on decorating the walls. in the foyer was a freshly painted mural of the King presiding over her kingdom. at first the party didn’t receive much attention, but soon everyone within the palace was whispering to each other, watching the party. there was a definite feeling of hostility regarding the party here. the party was led through a feast hall to a meeting chamber, all of the rooms appearing to be intended to house important professionals.

then, through a final set of large double doors, was the throne room. this was like walking into another world. the walls were limestone, though even they didn’t feel familiar. the room was circular, and the stone floor had been removed, the remaining trenches filled with water. flowers and vines choked the ground, weaving in between a curved path of stones leading to an island, centered by a massive stone. there were no torches in this room, uneven light coming in through a hole in the roof, falling mainly on the island in the room’s center.

so next time... fighting... the dragon... holy shit

[azure-steel]

inferniangod​:

  With Cloud’s vow back to him it begun. That was all he needed.. In an instant the entire world flashed. As the world around them went blind, Cloud himself would feel a burst of energy fill his soul with a bountiful warmth that would turn a flickering candle light into a roaring flame. The pair in the hallow cold building would glow as heat and fire danced between and all around them, the runes of the god of fire soon appeared encircling their brightly lit forms. 

 In a sudden blast of heat and wind, all their transgressors would be knocked back in the building, some too close even evaporated as Ifrit burnt them away with a glittering blast of ember coated power. Above them the sky would open up like the eye of a hurricane, rays of sun blazing through were lightning once dazzled. This power to Ifrit though was familiar. It burned a new blaze in him. Huh…it worked. 

 “Thank you Cloud.” Ifrit murmured quietly. The red pulled away slowly from Cloud’s back, letting his eyes open with a flutter of dark lashes to reveal their hot burning glow. With a calm hand, the flame around them left from their binding, calmed through the corridors, revealing the surviving agents who were quickly backpedalling away. Ifrit narrowed ancient ember lit eyes. They dare run now? Adorable.

  The drums of war would beat to an invisible drum, his flame colored gaze glowing brighter and brighter as the whites of his eyes turned a tainted black.

“Let all know the face of destruction, those whom dare to look upon thee, rejoice to thy demise…”

Ifrit rose his hand, calling forth his ancient fire which appeared in a spiral of flames only to rest in his awaiting palm, the tiny fire whipping violently with the hot breeze he created. He rounded in front of Cloud and pointed his hand towards both corridors as men ran, runes dancing below him in a dancing circle of old glyph and ancient spells.

“Roar for me my flames of this star. I call out to the heavens peak! Speak thee in fiery repose! Rip and burn away those in my wake. Leave naught but ash and ember!”

“HELLSFIRE!”

In an instant the battleground erupted in bright illuminating light that shot down from his palms. Like a beam from the sun itself, the entire group of soldiers was just...gone in an instant, vaporized into nothing but dust as the blast of arcane magiks split the ground in a burst of ultimate power, slicing the  the earth in it’s brilliant light and leaving nothing but their last echoing screams.

Ifrit stood there before the soot and the waste of life as the fire died away, his crown of burning antlers visible for a split second before fading away along with the burning glow of his ancient stare. He stood proud, satisfied with his reign of fire when he turned to Cloud only to stumble towards him and immediately fall forwards as his knees give out in turn. With a weak gasp, he was out like a light, falling right into Cloud’s arms limply. This small body may have gotten its power back but it was obvious his human body just couldn't handle it. At least he was able to carve Cloud a way out before passing out…

There had been no telling that it would even work but what happened next in that moment... It was like nothing Cloud had ever experienced before; this bonding of souls betwixt he and the champion of flames himself, both terrifying and exhilarating all in the same instance. That plume of heat filling him so thoroughly from the inside out, the blinding light which surrounded them, a glittering array of ancient magiks which the simplicity of the mere human mind couldn’t possibly hope to grasp. 

But it wasn’t even this which held the blond’s gaze, no, but the inferno of the other’s eyes, the fierce potential of absolute destruction he could feel crackling in the air, the inevitable storm that was about to follow all coupled with the soft word of thanks from this being birthed from the very living rivers of the Planet herself. Gaia’s creation to serve upon mortal men ablaze before him now in all his glory. 

The mighty Ifrit, Lord of the Inferno, the King of Flames - never in his life had Cloud witnessed something, anything or anyone harbour an element so dangerously inspiring in all of its artistic savagery. For he only heard tell of the sheer power this summon possessed, with flames no water could quench, where blood would boil in the veins of man, where entire civilisations had crumbled to ash beneath the might of Ifrit. They were mere stories, told by firesides in the darkest hours, stories that Cloud was now privileged to witness first hand. 

There was something so fundamentally beautiful about him then, as he holds those flames in his hands and gazes upon them like a long lost love now reunited. 

Beautiful and utterly terrifying to the point where a chill raced up the merc’s spine at the sound of his voice as Ifrit delivered his judgement upon those who had dared to oppose them. All of this followed so swiftly by his seething wrath. 

The blast was strong enough to knock the former SOLDIER onto the floor of the corridor, his rump hitting the tiles with hard painful thump and sending his blade clattering out of reach. He emits an agonised grunt, forced then to shield his face from the inferno, unable to drown out the dying screams of men vaporised in this show of pyromania. 

But it was over almost as soon as it had begun, and it wasn’t until Cloud dares to lower his defensive arm that the room is now submerged in darkness, save for the silhoette of a man stumbling towards him and it takes him a second or two to even realise...

“Ifrit!” 

He makes a frantic dash as the man collapses, scrabbling across the floor just in time to catch the limp body as he fell, and he sits there amidst the ashes of their enemies for a time simply staring down at this man, this God become mortal and laments on the great lengths he had just gone to if only to ensure his safety. His body had taken all it could from that burst of power and it seemed that this flesh prison of his could only take so much. 

“Ifrit...” he says again, softer this time as he sweeps a lock of red hair from his brow. It had been Cloud’s job to rescue him, not the other way around and there’s a sense of guilt which sinks into his stomach, but also spurs the man into moving from the floor. And it was with this man in his arms that he retrieves his blade and begins to make his way back through the maze of the laboratory the way in which he came. Ifrit’s inferno would have obliterated everything inside the place now, so there was little use in searching the place. A place which was now a grave site for the men sent here to keep the summon detained. 

This onewinged man was his target now, to search for Ifrit’s materia and return him to his rightful state. 

[iimmcrtalis-archive]

   For Full Story & Possible Choices, please check out This Page.  For this post, I’m going with default choice. ( Conscription & Saving Amaranthine )

After the murder of two of her clansmen at the age of 14, Fenrian exiled herself from her clan and left the Dalish life behind. After three years of traveling alone, a year of it spent fighting off darkspawn and protecting people from the Blight, she found her way to the Grey Wardens in Amaranthine. Unfortunately, she was untrusted in the region and captured by locals as an ‘apostate and savage dalish.’ 

   While it wasn’t her exact plan to become a Warden in such a way, she was accepting of being judged by the Warden Commander & Arl of Amaranthine. The judgement: Conscription into the Warden’s. But, she would be a Warden Prospect. Kept under the watchful eye of fellow wardens and the commander, she would prove her worth. 

  And so she did. 

     During the attack on Vigil’s Keep, Fen helped defend those there while the Warden dealt protected the city. In the chaos, she was injured critically and became tainted. When the battle subsided, and they looked for survivors, they found her. Missing one of her arms, and fading fast, she was given the option to partake in the Joining. 

       From then she became Warden Suledin.

    In the Qunari siege of Kirkwall, Suledin is seen with the Wardens. While they don’t help with the battle outside of their own means, Suledin leaves the Champion & her friends with gifts to help. And wishes them the best of luck. 

   In between the years, she spends most of her time recruiting apostates and elves from both clans & the cities. With time she earns ranks in the order, acting as one of the senior members of the Fereldan Wardens. When the order began to shift, she and the other senior wardens at the time, spoke out against the use of blood magic. While she herself heard no calling, she could see its affects on her fellow wardens.  There was little she could do but argue in it’s falseness. There was something going on bigger than them, and she planned to help stop it. 

   After the Conclave, she went on the run with her senior warden. Splitting up would make it easier to track them. While her friend waited for Hawke in the Crestwood, she made her home in the Stormcoast.  She can be recruited long before the story requires the Warden’s help.  the Inquisitor will be able to find her while tracking Blackwall’s Quest, Memories of The Grey. When searching the camps, they will note that there’s been recent use of the camps. And whoever was there isn’t too far away. 

   Once they find her, she remarks that she’s surprised anyone found her considering they’re not really supposed to know where those camps are. But, since she has been found, she’ll offer up her services to the Inquisition. Telling them she’s awaiting contact from a friend, and working with someone who glows might make it a bit easier to find her. 

      Depending on the choice by the Inquisitor, she can become an Agent or Companion. 

           • As an agent she’ll tend to work with both Cullen’s men &/or The Chargers.. With her it makes it easier to escort and help refugees as well as dig through ruins. For Elven inquisitors, it’ll help with finding elvhen artifacts. 

     As a companion, she’ll be another mage in the arsenal. Her specialization is Keeper, a specialization that utilizes the ground around her. How long she stays, much like Blackwall, is up to the choices made by the Inquisitor in Here Lies The Abyss.        • Left Behind - Stays in the fade instead of Hawke or the Warden        • Exiled - Can stay with the Inquisition, unless the Warden is left behind.        • Joined - Stays with the Inquisition with less tension. 

  When the Inquisition draws closer to its end, Suledin gets a bit more riled up and aggressive about things. Her change is based more on finally ending and saving her Order. As well as taking it as a chance to redeem the Wardens of their mistakes. In the Temple of Mythal, however, this aggressiveness is pointed at the guardians. Specifically Abelas. In this verse, Suledin will not step forward as a suggestion to take the Well. The offer itself is amusing to her, making her laugh. She has an expiration date, and it’d be a waste on her. Even if the world ends soon, she’s going to be dead before then.         She does approve of the Inquisitor taking it themselves over Morrigan. 

  With Corypheus defeated, the warden stares at the night sky. A smile upon her face as she looks at the stars, counting them, naming them. When footsteps disturb this, she turns to the Inquisitor with a sad smile. She says her goodbyes, as she’s sure she won’t see them in the morning. After the party, she’s gone. Left late into the night according to the guards. Left a present for the Inquisitor though. A small pin with a griffon on it. 

  In the events of Trespasser, she again joins the group.         [will update on trespasser shit after i play it ]

STATS:

Name: Fen, later Suledin or Rosal’nan Nicknames: Fen, Sul/sully, Rosa Titles: Da’Fen Age: 27 Birthday:  Drakonis 19th Gender: Female ( dmab ) Sexuality: Pansexual │ demiromantic Birthplace: Unknown. Residence: Thedas. Relatives:               • N/a.

Height: 5'2" Weight: 140lbs Character’s body build: Curved, muscular. Eye Color: Emerald green. Hair Color: Dark red. Type of hair: Very thick. Hairstyle: Version Dependent  Complexion and skin tone: Freckled & medium brown Scars: Multiple facial scars. Deep scar across her throat. Mannerisms: Tends to not carry much regard for social ques. Speaks very bluntly. Quick to anger as she gets older.  Usual Body Posture: Back straight, arms crosses. Leaning weight to one side. Vallaslin: Mythal Complete, Blackwork version.  Tattoos:         • Elvhen for Freedom on her right wrist.        • Elvhen for Justice on her left wrist.        • Half completed Mythal branches down her throat, over her shoulders & chest.         • Bow & Arrow on her side. 

SKILLS:

Specializations: Keeper & Battlemage │ Arcane Warrior / Knight Enchanter Favored Spells:     Awakening -  

Entropy:  • Sleep + Nightmare                 • Mass Paralysis

Spirit: • Death Syphon           • Telekinesis Spells

Creation: • Mass Rejuvenation                  • Regeneration                  • Heoric Defense                 • Haste

Primal: • Inferno             • Earthquake              • Blizzard             • Tempest             • Chain Lightning

Arcane: • Arcane Shield              • Elemental Mastery               • Time Spiral              • Repulsion Field

   Inquisition: Passives not included in this list **

Inferno: • Immolate             • Wall of Fire

Spirit: • Barrier          • Mind Blast          • Revival

Winter: • Fade Step              • Wall of Ice              • Blizzard

Storm: • Chain Lightning             • Energy Barrage              • Static Charge              • Static Cage

COMPANION CODEX  • PAGE         **both are currently under heavy construction.

[svartalfhild]

6 for Mornath

Prompt: “You can’t die. Please don’t die.”

- - -

An eerie silence hung in the air as the Knight Stars entered the dark forest clearing.  With the cloudy sky obscuring the moon, the only light available to them was that emanating from the brooch on Mornath’s cloak, gifted to them by a priest of Lathander to discourage the shadow creatures said to be lurking in this wood.  She stuck very close to her companion, half-elven eyes scanning the area anxiously for any signs of trouble.

“I think this is the place,” she stated, pointing to the stone platform in the center of the clearing.  Cautiously, the pair approached the platform and she knelt down to examine the markings she saw carved along the sides.  What she saw made her stomach churn.

“What is it?” Heliodoro asked with his customary note of cheerful curiosity, peering down over her shoulder.

“There are inscriptions here.  In Abyssal.”

“Abyssal’s one of your languages, right?  Can you read it?”

“Yes, but I dare not repeat what it says.”  The mere thought sent chills down her spine and she stepped back from the stone.  “Suffice it to say that these are ritual markings for a very unholy purpose.”

“And I’m guessing this is not a very tasty and unfortunately wasted strawberry jam.”  Looking up, Mornath saw that Heliodoro had brushed away some of the light dusting of snow that covered the platform.  Sure enough, it was coated with a thick smearing of what she had a distinct and unsettling feeling was blood.  Drawing a dagger, she scraped at the blood.  Some of it flaked away, but parts of it were more…gooey.

“This site has been used within the last couple of hours.”

“Ew.  Why do unholy ritual sites always have to be so filthy?  Why can’t necromancers ever clean up after themselves?  Just because you’re evil doesn’t mean you have to be a slob,” Heliodoro commented, lip curling in disgust as he watched Mornath scrape the blood.

“I guess having no standards is sometimes part of being evil.  Anyway, I think you’re taking the wrong direction with this, Heliodoro.  Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the fact that someone was murdered here not long ago?”  Mornath looked over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow at her companion, who shrugged.

“I am concerned.  I just prefer to voice less burdensome thoughts.”

“How you manage to stay chipper even in the darkest places will forever be a mystery to me.  We could be literally dying in a pit in the Shadowfell and you’d be making wisecracks about hitting rock bottom.”  Mornath stood up straight and dusted a few flakes of snow off herself as she said this.  Heliodoro gave a bark of a laugh and a tusky grin.

“He who makes no light puts himself at the mercy of the dark,” he recited, which gave Mornath the distinct expression of a friend quite used to having plays quoted at her.  He then straightened his back and adopted Mornath’s Luruarian brogue, saying “Hello, my name is Mornath Sparrowswood and I must always be serious and exercise intense broodiness in all dark places like Fenmarel before me.”

“Oh, stop it,” Mornath admonished, lightly smacking Heliodoro’s arm, though she couldn’t help but smile a little and that seemed to be all he wanted, because he relented, falling silent and affectionately pressing his shoulder to hers.

And then suddenly his smile faltered.  He looked up to scan their surroundings and his smile actually fell.

“What is it?” Mornath whispered, trying to follow her companion’s gaze.

“There are entities of great evil approaching this clearing from all sides,” he replied.  She was about to ask what kind of evil, but her own eyesight soon provided the answer as she watched shadows emerge from between the trees in vaguely humanoid shape.  They avoided the path of the light of Mornath’s brooch, but that still left much open space.  The pair instinctively huddled closer together, the half-orc drawing his sword and shield.

The shadows hissed at them as they closed in and Mornath, shaking, raised her hands, ready to weave a spell.  The air seemed to grow dramatically colder the nearer the shadows came, as if they were drawing energy from the very atmosphere.

“Stay close to me and they won’t be able to touch you,” Heliodoro assured the young sorcerer confidently.  She had seen him go up against unholy creatures before and knowing what he could do to them gave her some greater sense of security at his side, though the awful hissing was growing louder.  He puffed out his chest, putting the symbol of Corellon that hung from his neck on display.  He called out the words of a lyrical prayer in Elvish and a pale blue holy light began to radiate from him.

With a horrible chorus of shrieks, several of the shadow fiends scrambled to get away from the light.  Three, however, seemed more annoyed than afraid and continued to advance toward the two young adventurers.  As fast as she could move her fingers and speak the arcane words, Mornath sent a bluish violet missile of energy at each of them.  They all made solid impact, but it did not seem to deter the creatures quite as much as she might have hoped.

“Fuck,” she muttered and tossed a ray of cold energy at one of them.  It hit it square in the chest - if indeed it could be considered to have a chest - and seemed to have been significantly slowed, though its brethren continued just as quickly as before on their path to Mornath.

“Duck,” Heliodoro told her and she did so without hesitation.  He swung his sword wide, blade passing over her head to strike the first shadow that tried to claw her with its dark appendage.  She used the opportunity to slip around behind him and draw a dagger.  While the shadows were distracted by her friend, she whipped back around and plunged her blade into the darkness.  The foul screech that greeted her told her that she’d hit her mark.

Then an even more terrible sound hit her ears.  She looked around to see one of the shadows reaching into Heliodoro’s chest, sapping some sort of energy from him as he groaned in pain.

“Helio! No!” Mornath gasped and immediately attempted to throw more magic at the offending fiend, but she felt a sudden surge of energy within herself and with a few violet sparks, the spell fizzled.  Panicking, she cut at the arm extended to Heliodoro and it recoiled. 

The other two shadows that hadn’t been chased off by the holy light reached for the half-orc in turn and he screamed in agony as they drained him further.  His sword and shield fell from his grasp as he was apparently too weak to hold them any longer.  When the shadows retracted from him, he collapsed under the weight of his armor.

“Get away from him!” Mornath bellowed, throwing her hands out forcefully.  A gust of wind twice as strong as she had anticipated burst forth, sending two of the shadows reeling away from Heliodoro.  Unfortunately, she had only a split second to feel proud of herself before there came a great ripping and tugging and the third shadow relieved her of her cloak and the brooch with it, extinguishing its light.

Mornath swiveled around to blast the attacking shadow with ice, obliterating it.

On the ground, Heliodoro used what little breath he could get out under the suffocating weight of his chest plate to utter another prayer.  A spark of divine energy jumped from him to Mornath and she suddenly felt a comforting warmth settle in her heart, but not for long.  Just as she turned to thank him, she saw a returned shadow sink its spectral hand into his chest once more.  With a terrified cry, she brought the wind down on it once more, sending it flying.

Now with nothing in her immediate way, she dove down to Heliodoro’s side to cradle him in her arms.  She could feel his pulse rapidly weakening.

“No!  You can’t die.  Please don’t die,” she pleaded, voice shaking with sheer panic.  “You’re my twinny, remember?  No going where I can’t follow.”

“The show must go on, Morning Glory,” he all but breathed and with a final curve of his green lips, the holy light that radiated from him faded and he went still.

“No. No! NO!” Mornath cried.  “Get up!  Get up!”

To her horror, Heliodoro’s shadow separated from him and bore down on her.  Through her tears, she reached out to blast the fiend, but she felt another surge of energy under her skin and what came out of her mouth instead of an arcane incantation was simply a primal scream of rage and grief.

Violet lightning crackled at the corners of her grey eyes and then burst violently from her hands, striking every remaining living shadow.  With another chorus of awful shrieks, they all vaporized, leaving a sobbing Mornath cold and alone with her best friend dead in her arms and no strength of her own to carry him.

It would take several minutes for her to think clearly enough to close her eyes and send an arcane message to the priest of Lathander who had given her the brooch, begging for help.

[sun-descending]

One after another...

@flaxinmalache @intoxication-wra

Jhulen had apparently moved into Flaxin's quarters for the time being, and at the moment he had made himself comfortable in a chair near the windows, a pipe in one hand and a sheaf of reports in the other, reading glasses balanced on his nose as he frowned over what scant details they had on the attacks on their operations.

Hopefully he didn't mind some interruption to his task, because it was about then that there was a sound in the outer chambers. The sound of the door sliding and of Flaxin's coat missing its mark yet again. He hadn't the time for that, however. The mage held, in his hand, a small arcane orb not unlike his own crystalline reports but clearly not his own. He held it within a fist of silk that shimmered with protective qualities, keeping it aloft as he went for the desk, pushing things aside to pull over a setting to place it in. "I would like for you to look at this with me." He hates to tell the priest this, but he must or he'll know soon enough. "I've become quite adept at making messes...I haven't viewed it yet but I suspect it has to do with our recently departed." Not the crew in the harbor. He wouldn't look so dour and dire if it were that.

Well. Unless something new had come to light in his examinations.

The priest glanced up a split second before Flaxin actually appeared, alerted to his arrival more by the ripple of unfamiliar magics than any actual sound from the mage. He blinked, watching the orb more than its holder until the younger elf actually spoke to him, and then blinked again. "...Light's tits, we're still not free of that?" The comment didn't seem to be aimed at anyone in particular as the priest pulled off his glasses and set them on the table, along with the papers. The pipe stayed in his hand, though, as he moved to join Flaxin at the desk. "I assume this has something to do with the noise upstairs just now?"

With his eye rolling upwards, the mage nods, lifting a hand to hesitantly rest upon the mystical cache. "Yes. The Magister seems to have surfaced again, insinuating that we should clean whatever this is for him." He scrunches his nose, "But it also seemed to have shaken him...It's worth a look I would say." He breathes in slowly with his eye upon its swirling depths as his ears flick just a bit. "Perhaps it's nothing."

Nothing doesn't sling itself halfway around the world for special delivery. Jhulen pulled a comforting arm around Flaxin's waist. "We're never that lucky," he drawled with a sigh as he eyed the orb. "...Alright, fire this thing up, then. We may as well get this over with."

At this point, Flax wasn't even sure luck was a thing that existed. Shit just zeroed in on them naturally and went right for the soft spots. Ah, such was the life. He manages a crooked, Malache smirk that was as dry as the sea was wet and steeled himself with a soft chuckle to match. "Right." The mage breathed out through his nose once more slowly and closed his eye to draw forth whatever unknown they dared to look upon now. The flare of the crystal came with ease and, once awakened to his touch, was quick to provide as well. Whether they liked it or not.

The priest's expression grew blacker and blacker the more the horrid vision played out for them, his grip on the bowl of his pipe tightening until his knuckles were white and the wood seemed like it must crack under the pressure. Sparks and shocks of holy energy crackled along his skin and created tiny lightning bolt-shaped cracks along the floor under his feet, as his magic threatened to explode in a dazzling display of fury.

"Rakarth..." The name was a low, vicious hiss, and that was all it took to know its owner was a dead man.

Well. Technically Rakarth very much was dead, but that wasn't the problem Flaxin was seeing here. That would probably be made more apparent in later moments, however. The scene they had just witnessed wasn't properly described as heinous and it sickened even this unrepentant soul. He'd come away from the sight in a backwards stumble, the weight of it all hitting him at once. To be honest, he hadn't yet had time to form any real opinion of it with his thoughts racing his pulse, his hands trembling, and his face. He slowly took the heat of the fever right before Jhulen's eyes as he turned away to try and pour himself a drink, but he went nowhere, planted to the spot and lost in his own quarters for just a moment's haze. He hadn't looked horrified, he'd just looked so very, very overwhelmed.

The scene began to replay itself, having received no input from its watchers, and Jhulen was quick to swipe his hand over it, ending the images before he just snatched the wretched thing up and hurled it at a wall. "...Isn't that death knight Xin's man?" he asked in that same low, dangerous voice; Shaihel hovered just beneath the surface. But Jhulen refused to give in to him or his own rage, instead staring at the arcane orb until he managed to center himself again, using his fury as an anchor point and hardening it to ice, rather than letting it burn out of control. One of them had to maintain. "Something caught him off guard. Did you see that?"

He turned to look at Flaxin, only to see him paralyzed, and swore quietly. "Flaxin. Flax! I need you here, love." Turning away from the orb, the priest moved to the liquor cabinet and poured a generous portion of something stiff, expensive, and potent into a tumbler that was then shoved in Flaxin's hand. "Drink," he ordered.

The mage heard him, because Jhulen could see his ear twitch to the sound of his voice but his moving lips made no sound and his eye didn't even blink. Not for a good while. He might've been holding his breath, but he doesn't look like he could have cared to notice either way. Oh...I see. I see. If anything was running through his head at all, it was lost to fog. He took the drink as if he hadn't even seen it. His whole body felt like it was both numbed and alight with electricity and his knees, well he shouldn't have tried to walk perhaps because his knee bends and he just goes right down with his head spinning. The glass slips free of his finger's of course and he blinks, struggling to focus as the air around him seems to just rush into his ears.

Reaching without thinking, Jhulen snatching the glass from the air with only a few drops lost, and even he would have been impressed with himself if he had been paying attention. The tumbler slid onto the side table as in one smooth motion the priest deposited it and grabbed Flaxin instead, supporting the smaller elf so he didn't end up on the floor. "Woah now-- Easy, starlight. Breathe. Look at me-- no, look at me." One hand gently fisted in the hair on the back of the mage's head so he would be forced to meet Jhulen's eyes. A song -- Flaxin's song -- wove through the air between them and into the mage's psyche, felt but not heard, trying to calm his nerves and chase off the fog.

Somehow, in all of this, Flax managed to catch hold of the man holding him up, though his legs felt like steamed asparagus and they functioned about as well for the purpose of holding him. He was there still, struggling with himself and the effort to remain conscious and aware, gaze not quite on point as he tried to dumbly follow the words' demands. They sounded so soft and...Funny, though. Like yelling down a tube. He mumbled something back but it was lost in the shuffle and the slur. The song would help, of course, but Jhulen was going to have to get him to a seat and give him some time.

Yes, this is bad news. It may or may not be a problem. Eventually he'll slow to his senses and realize that. Right now is not looking, to the priest, to be that time however. One can hope.

Immediately Jhulen began to compartmentalize. He they could deal with this new crisis-- Light's tits could they just stop coming for five fucking minutes?-- later, and so his emotions relative to it were shut away. He gathered Flaxin up in his arms bridal style and carried him over to the bed, where the priest could sit with the mage in his lap, holding and supporting him in the same motion while the latter worked through this. He continued to sing as long as was needed to bring the mage back around, letting that be the only sound in the room beyond the creak of wood and the wind.

[goodbadgreenskin-blog]

Warhammer World!

So the Greenskins, and some others in our gaming group, went to Warhammer World!

Sean came over from Amsterdam specially for this trip, which was great. We played some games on the Friday on my ZM board, and then went to WHW on the Sunday.

The armies were:

Me - Raven Guard, Salamanders

Sean - Emperor’s Children

Will - Night Lords

Adam - Orks

Rich - Death Guard

Louis - Ultramarines

James - Militia Guard

We had a fantastic time, playing on four boards - Shrine World Borealis, Zone Mortalis, Spyral Prime and Mining Facility 42.

I’ve done a brief summary of the games below, with pictures!

We also recorded our games in the Second Golloch War page on Aus30k - these represented battles for Sevastopol Station!

Friday - Zone Mortalis x2, Raven Guard v Emperor’s Children & Salamanders v Emperor’s Children (1k pts)

Game 1 

The Raven Guard had to seek and hold objectives being held by the Emperor’s Children. I ran a mixed force - Dark Furies, Tacticals, Terminators, a Cortus, and Mor Deythan led by a Chaplain. The EC ran a Deredeo with Plasma, Breachers, Recon Marines and a Cortus. 

The battle was fierce. Initially the Dark Furies chewed up the Breachers, and the RG Cortus smashed apart its EC twin. However the game changed when the Catastrophic Damage Table rocked the board, slowing down the Tacticals and Mor Deythan in the open. This lead to them being culled by the Deredeo, and the counter-attack reduced the RG down to just one Mor Deythan contesting the objective at the end, with the Terminators holding another. A squeaked win for the Raven Guard!

The board, representing Sevastopol Station!

Raven Guard 

Emperor’s Children 

The Emperor’s Children form a shield wall...

Two dreads enter... one dread leaves!

Charge!

The counter-attack begins 

One Tactical stands alone...

Endgame!

Game 2 saw the Salamanders deploying very close to the EC through a quirk of fate! They needed to force through the doors and bring the fight to the Emperor’s Children. 

The game was a solid massacre. Firedrakes, Terminators, Dreadnoughts... all slain in a crucible of fire. By the end a single Salamanders Cortus was all that was left! Salamanders victory... just!

The forces pose

Danger close deployment!

Incoming!

Carnage ensues 

...and continues 

Until, finally, one dreadnought survives! 

The next day, we went to WHW proper!

The games were as follows:

Emperor’s Children v Salamanders (Salamanders Victory)

Emperor’s Children v Night Lords (Emperor’s Children Victory)

Night Lords v Death Guard ZM (Night Lords Victory)

Salamanders v Death Guard ZM (narrow Salamanders Victory)

Salamanders v Orks ZM (Draw)

Ultramarines v Death Guard ZM (Death Guard Victory)

Ultramarines v Orks & Militia (Ultramarines Victory)

As you can see, between us we got quite a few in!

We also got to visit the Exhibition Hall, which is always amazing!

Some pictures below:

Emperor’s Children v Salamanders - 2k, Ambush (Salamanders being Ambushed), on Shrine World Borealis 

Salamanders deploy... 

Emperor’s Children sneak about... 

Hunting for foes...

The Leviathan guards the troops

The Spartan guards the shrine!

Ambush! The Emperor’s Children attack!

Staring down the Spartan 

Kakophoni sprint into position 

Javelins soar across the terrain 

The Storm Eagle rains death 

The Leviathan stalks the ruins 

The Emperor’s Children keep an eye on them...

Overall this was a fun game. The Emperor’s Children, fielded by Sean, laid an awesome trap... but unfortunately his dice really were not on his side. I’ve never seen so many 1s for Gets Hot, or to hit! The Lightning got a perfect side shot on the Spartan, and even with 2s to hit and tank hunter on Kraken Penetrators it only did one glance!!

Sean was a good sport about it though, and his second game went much better!

Death Guard v Night Lords - 1k ZM 

I didn’t play in this one, but I have been reliably told that Night Lords Praetors on bikes in ZM are ridiculously good, and Castellax are nightmares to fight. 

Terror stalks the corridors...

... and flies through them! 

The stoic Death Guard advance 

Destroyers ready their arcane weaponry... 

A Terminator hacks through Death Guard filth... 

... But he’s quite outnumbered!

Zoom zoom!

The game ultimately went to the Night Lords. 

Ultramarines v Orks - 2k, Ambush, Spyral Prime 

This was another Ambush, where the Orks sprung the trap. Unfortunately for them the Ultramarines were tuff gitz, and smashed da Waagh! The Orks had to deploy split on both sides of the board, which meant the Ultramarines could take a leaf out of Guilliman’s writings and focus fire. I only got a few pictures, but I know the Ultramarines were victorious. 

Boyz! 

Waaagh!

A Rhino conducts urban pacification 

Ultramarines walk over Ork detritus

The standard of Ultramar is raised

Ultramarines scan for more Xenos 

... none are sighted 

Another Rhino on patrol 

Orks v Raven Guard - Zone Mortalis 1k, on Mining Facility 42

This was one of the most glorious boards I have ever played on! Absolutely stunning, 3D, with great verticality. 

The Raven Guard deployed against the Orks, fighting for two objectives at the top of the board. The Orks managed to swamp one with tough MegaNobz, but the other one was stoutly defended by infiltrating Mor Deythan and Tactical Marines. 

Dark Furies and Terminators assaulted the Ork-held one, and managed to slaughter the Orks to an... Ork. This Ork just happened to be the biggest, tuffest and baddest of them all - he wiped the floor with the remaining Raven Guard!

On the other side, the Dreadnought happily blended an entire mob of Boyz, while the Mor Deythan and Tactical Marines managed to shove another squad back. The net result was a draw - one objective each! I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves rather than do lots of captions:

(Meanwhile, in the Emperor’s Children v Night Lords fight...)

Overall a fantastic game, which rounded off a fantastic day. 

We’ll be going again soon for sure!

And I had my eye on one bad boy... 

One day...

- A

[qualiteadnd]

By Sky & By Sea

— A CHWINGA CHASERS ADVENTURE

As their journey aboard the Pride of Halar brings them closer to their quarry, confrontation draws ever near.

The vessel beneath the waves was unlike any magical or inventive marvel the crew of the Pride of Halar had ever seen. Like a great metal snake, it cut through the waves with little concern for the airship — or storm — above.

There was a rumble of thunder in the air, but Felix kept their course true. “Let’s keep those snakes from taking another dive, shall we? To your stations everyone!” As Felix gave the order and two massive harpoons were readied, another cry shattered the air.

Dark shadows flitted through the storm clouds. Indistinguishable at first, another sharp raptor cry pierced the night as two pteranodons swooped towards the ship. They threateningly snapped beaks filled with sharp teeth at the crew before flying back up to the circling flock above.

Lightning lit up the sky for a moment, followed quickly by a thunderous bang and rain began to fall in earnest down on them.

The first mate, a human woman allergic to bullshit, looked between the two threats to their ship. “Captain?”

“We have a mission to see through! Those dastardly dinos will need to get in line! Ready the harpoons!” Felix brought the ship lower just as the metal serpent broke the surface below. “Fire!”

The screeching howl of metal piercing metal was lost beneath the storm’s thunder, but the airship jerked as the tethered harpoons struck the vessel and held tight. Around the ship, the crystals flared brighter, their magic stabilizing to keep the Pride of Halar from being pulled into the sea.

As they began to ascend once more, dragging their underwater cargo along, a burst of fire shot out of a protruding tube from the vessel below. It struck the airship’s hull, bright sparks scaring away another swooping raptor.

Leaving his first mate at the helm, Felix rushed out to the bow of the ship where Sei’ku, Messenger, and Stonebark surveyed the scene. “Righto. You lads know what we’re after, yes? We’ll keep that ship up as long as we can, but there’s not much time. Reclaim the Scarab,” Felix said, hoisting himself up on the rails, “we’ll handle things up here.”

Before any of them could question the halfling, Felix gave a salute and launched himself off of the ship, onto the back of a passing pteranodon. They watched, dumbstruck, as he tried to steer the creature into its flock and away from his ship. Seemingly unfazed by her captain, the first mate shot another of the creatures with her wand, stuck it in her hair, and went back to keeping the Pride of Halar aloft.

Messenger pulled two potions of water breathing from his bag — just in case — and passed them to his breathing companions before getting up onto the rails as well. “You heard him. Let’s go.” He lept fearlessly, catching the harpoon rope on his descent and Stonebark clumsily followed suit.

Sei’ku took one last look at the sky battle happening in the storm around them before diving after his allies.

From a hatch on the ocean-wet deck of the ship, a yuan-ti sorceress spat a curse at them. Her spell missed, but sparked a rage in Messenger from the second his metal feet slammed on the deck. With Nameless unsheathed and divine and primal magic flaring around them, the three dove into battle.

The yuan-ti sorcerers and malison brutes who had come to investigate the breach were first-line defenders and put up enough of a fight to cost the trio precious moments. With the shaman emboldening himself and the warriors, they were able to push their way through to the hatch.

Within the ship, a horrible discordant alarm warned of the assault. Pausing on the ladder, the warforged put a hand on his head and shook it once.

“Messenger? What is it?”

“Klaxon alarms…”

Sei’ku’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Messenger dropped down the last few feet and withdrew Nameless. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Which way?” Stonebark asked, peering into the hall.

Before they could decide, a bolt of fire struck Messenger in the shoulder and the barbarian whirled around to face the next challenge. Like the first wave, these yuan-ti proved to be dangerous. The malisons clashed swords with Messenger, trying to get the upper hand as their sorcerers struck from around corners.

The last standing sorcerer backed up, a spell already desperately weaving between his fingers, but Messenger charged him before it could be cast.

Sei’ku crouched down in front of him, ignoring the blood streaking down his own face now. “What are down these halls?” he asked pointing the way the mage had come.

“Dorms… storage…” he rasped. And when Sei’ku pointed down the opposite hall expectantly he answered, looking past the paladin to the barbarian making threats behind him. “The cats…”

Sei’ku used Pharos to stand up. “We don’t have much time.”

Deciding that Messenger would be better fit to break open prison cells and Sei’ku would have more of an eagle eye in storage, they agreed to split up. Stonebark took a look at Sei’ku, who’d been singed by more than a few fire spells already, and decided to go with him towards the back of the ship.

Breaking away on his own, Messenger headed fore towards the prison. A dozen or so tabaxi sat in their cells with heavy collars wrapped around their throats. A few perked up at the sight of Messenger.

He looked them over. “There a key somewhere?”

One of them shook her head. “Captain has it,” she told him, pointing towards the door further down. “He’s… not likely to hand it over.”

Messenger cracked metallic knuckles and stepped up. “We’re going to make our own key then.” Grabbing the door and bracing against the bars, Messenger raged and yanked the door straight off its hinges. The screech of metal had the tabaxis’ ears flat on their skulls, but they quickly brushed past him out of the cage.

Taking the jail door, Messenger turned towards the captain’s door and wedged it in there. “That should keep him busy.” Noticing a couple of the tabaxi touching their collars he asked, “Want me to get that?”

A beige tabaxi shrank back a little. “We’ve tried… They… don’t come off… cleanly,” he said with a wince.

“But they’ll kill you if you keep them on.”

The tabaxi looked Messenger up and down, blood still staining him from the last encounter. “Maybe not if they’re all dead?”

He grunted and gestured the way he’d come. “Let’s go. We’ll make the mages useful later.”

While Messenger freed the prisoners, Sei’ku led Stonebark towards cargo. Already wounded though, an encounter with a sorceress making her way out of the dorms almost proved deadly for Sei’ku. He was able to strike her with Pharos in the narrow hallway, but her spell slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet.

Focused on his ally rather than the retreating snakefolk, Stonebark pressed one of his last healing spells into the aasimar and helped him up. “Careful there, friend,” he said, steadying him.

“Thank you, Stonebark… but we need to hurry.”

Pushing on, they found cargo an unorganized mess of stolen goods. And with Detect Magic up, Sei’ku saw the glimmer of the arcane across every shelf. “Well…”

“Do you see your bug?”

Making a noise in the negative, Sei’ku grabbed a sack from one of the shelves and began to quickly shove anything that glittered inside. To his relief, the bag neither bulged nor grew heavier and so he began to sweep whole shelves of magical goods inside without looking.

Suddenly, there was a low boom further up and the whole vessel shook.

They shared a worried look about the continued structural sanctity of this underwater vessel. Neither wanted to test the potions on their belts.

Sei’ku drew the bag shut and hooked it over his shoulder. “Let’s find Messenger.”

They returned to their entry point moments after Messenger and the tabaxi arrived. Messenger glanced at Sei’ku’s new bag and the assimar nodded. “Is that everyone?”

“Everyone that’s left,” offered one tabaxi, shooting a glare at the fallen body of one of the malisons in the corridor.

Understanding, Sei’ku looked back at the ladder they’d come down, the rails charred and broken from their previous engagement. Not to be stopped, Stonebark latched his long branch limbs to the hatch and looked down at the smaller catfolk. “Can you climb?”

Not about to question him, they quickly clambered up the treefolk towards freedom. Sei’ku flew up ahead with one good beat of his wings and perched up on the deck, offering each tabaxi a hand up.

Messenger stood guard below deck as they made their escape, watching for any yuan-ti who would try to stop them. But with only a few tabaxi left, the ship shuddered with nearby cannon fire. If the cannons continued and their own ship was damaged, no one would be getting out of here. Shouting “I’ll handle this,” over his shoulder, Messenger ran back up the hall.

Above, the Pride of Halar was struggling to keep airborne between its aggressive, sunken anchor and the storm-brave pteranodons. Sei’ku began to lead the tabaxi to the one remaining harpoon tethering the two ships. Between the thunder and cannons, he had to shout to be heard. “I’ll help you up! But you need to climb!”

Wet, miserable, and ready to be done with this entirely, the beige tabaxi was the first to step up to the rope and climb under Sei’ku’s guidance.

Back inside, even without the downpour, Messenger was feeling the wear of the assault. Using the last of his energy to go into a final rage, he broke down the door barring him from the ship’s weaponry and surprised the two yuan-ti at the arcane cannon within. One crumpled quickly under his attacks, but the other continued to hiss and fight.

It wasn’t until he pulled Nameless from the lifeless body of the defiant mage did he realize his mistake. The yuan-ti had been less defiant than he was distracting. The first mage still lived, breathing in shallow, bloodied breathes on the floor as she shoved the last of her magic into one final spell.

But rather than blast back, Messenger watched a small, glowing, ember red marble roll from her hand. Dread sank into his hollow stomach and Messenger sprinted back into the hall. “Shit.”

The ship trembled again.

Metal crashed up ahead and Messenger looked up to see a hulking, serpentine form slithering out over the broken cell door. Unlike any of the other yuan-ti they’d encountered before, this one was more snake than man. With a serpent’s body and multiple snake heads all focused on Messenger, the anathema captain charged in a rage of his own.

“Shit!”

“Messenger?” Stonebark called. His attempts to step back into the hall were aborted as Messenger booked it around the corner and started to shove him towards the hatch.

“No time! Need to go!”

Beneath the commotion of the storm, everything moved slowly for a moment, rain impeding every effort made. Sei’ku, flying between the two ships, called for Tabbus’s attention to help the freed tabaxi. Felix, returned to his ship, was shouting orders into the storm even as the last remaining pteranodons circled and shrieked. And Messenger and Stonebark pulled themselves up before the anathema could drag them back in.

For a moment, it seemed almost calm. Like despite the hellish night they’d just endured, they would see their mission through.

And then everything exploded in a terrible instant of intensity. An explosion wracked the vessel beneath the waves, lightning struck the balloon keeping the Pride of Halar aloft, and everything turned painfully white.

Stonebark Fallbreeze — Treefolk Warden Shaman. Played by Malfrost.

[rubypop]

Hunger, Chapter 12 - Dragon Age 2

Hunger by rubypop Chapter 12

Garbed in lyrium, Fenris traversed the pulsing throat. He fell headfirst through fleshy pathways illuminated only by the white-hot burn of his markings. From all around throbbed the muffled beating of a massive heart.

When he tumbled against resisting tissue, he clawed his way through, and ghosted, and burrowed deeper. He did not think about whether or not he would suffocate here, or become lost, or exhaust the energy required to maintain his gleaming aura. He merely fought on, focused, seeking her in this nightmare-place.

The walls of flesh pressed close, palpitating. He could feel the shiver of sensory nerves. He dragged himself through fluid and cilia. Deeper.

He heard voices.

He thought, at first, that he must be mistaken, confounded by the sheer heat and compressing space. But, yes, there were voices, distant and moaning, crying, begging. As though the soul of every poor wretch that the beast had devoured lay trapped here, as corporeal as shadows.

He remembered Ser Clerval. He remembered the empty cottages. He remembered the mountain of pieces and parts.

He emerged into a chamber lined with seams of jagged teeth. He remembered, from his glimpses in the Fade, the sensation of swallowing bones, many bones, and thought of these great pointed teeth grinding the bones to pulp. He saw, then, a fleshy mass hanging from above, and realized it was all skin and veins and hair, pulsating, protective. Pieces and parts.

He flickered to the mass and ripped, and tore, and shredded with his claws.

The chamber spasmed. A guttural roar echoed from seemingly far away, echoed from the throat that he had navigated. The voices wept and pled. He did not stop. With both hands he slashed and yanked errant flesh away, succumbing to a wild frenzy, until the shadows thrown by his markings withdrew from a sallow inert face, and pale lips, and dark hair.

He uttered her name.

Her eyes opened. Her brows drew together. She mouthed, and then said, "Fenris?"

He stripped away the imprisoning flesh. He flung his arms around her. He hugged her close.

The chamber spasmed again, and shook. The walls undulated in horrible waves. Fenris leapt, clutching Hawke, back the way he had come. Adrenaline urged him on, and he climbed. Hawke buried her face into his chest. His arm tightened around her.

The fleshy walls rebelled. Their contractions fought him, rippling back, forcing him down. Fenris realized that Hunger was swallowing them, to wrest them back into that toothed prison.

His markings, now, were searing him, lit for so long. As though hot knives followed along their patterns, slicing through every layer of skin. He raised a hand and it grew hotter, brighter. He plunged it deep, claws out, into the pulsating wall.

A retching shiver screamed through the walls. Fenris and Hawke swayed against a long, violent lurch. Another tremor flung them forward. They pitched and rolled along the undulation. Moving forward. Climbing higher.

Fenris enveloped Hawke in his arms. With a blinding burst of light he ignited. The heat scorched him, agonizing and total. Together they were flung through the cavern of the demon's mouth, between the yellow teeth, which snapped closed behind them, and they went sprawling on the ground, into the sweet air.

Hunger was roaring, screaming, writhing back.

Fenris cradled Hawke, unable to speak, to formulate any kind of conscious thought. The light from his markings died and with it the agonizing heat.

She was small against him, limp with exhaustion, peering through half-lidded eyes, shocked by the sight of him. He brushed the wet dark hair from her forehead.

"Never," he said. "I will never lose you again."

Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

#

Justice hurried along vesicular pathways, blindly following the fetid air, the breath of the cavern, and he glanced up at every drip of condensation, every clatter of loosened rock. He steeled himself for what he knew was to come, unafraid, and knowing still that he must face what awaited him alone.

I will die for her, he thought, as he flew along the echoing corridor. If it must come to that, I will die for her.

Some human fragment of himself was trembling with doubt, and angrily he quashed the notion, briefly bringing light to the jagged shadows.

If I must die, that human side whispered, what of my people? What of Darktown? What of the beggar-girl, kicked down and used and starving?

I will die for Marian.

What of the bed, from which she was taken?

Justice shed a current of light, gripping his staff.

I cannot fight the demon alone.

I will. There is no other choice.

Do I not have a choice?

No. You do not.

He flickered onward through the black caves.

#

"I will never lose you again."

Hawke shut her eyes, opened them again. She did not know where she was. She could not identify the howls of agony that were echoing throughout the cavern. She saw only Fenris, the tears in his eyes, the sticky peritoneal residue that covered them both. She vaguely remembered flesh, the monstrous pulse-beats that had surrounded her. She vaguely remembered that kernel of strength, and thoughts of Anders that had sustained her.

Fenris embraced her again. Shaking, she reached up and touched his face.

"Fenris," she repeated.

Her mind was slowly clearing. She saw, then, the demon that thrashed behind them. He caught sight of her, and his white eyes lit up, and he reached out with long barbed claws.

"Little thing," he said, his words strangled.

Fenris lifted her and stumbled. Hunger reared back and scrambled toward them, enormous and spiked and screaming, and like lightning his long arm lashed out, his great claws came around, and Fenris let out a horrible choking sound and collapsed.

Blood flecked the rock walls. Hawke sprawled from Fenris's arms, and she caught sight of ragged wounds, the ripped leather of his tunic. A small wooden totem fell from Fenris's pocket and skittered across the ground. With an intake of breath she recognized it: the tiny wooden horse, rudely-carved and stained with blood.

She flung herself upon Fenris and grabbed the figurine. She held it close.

"YOU." Hunger's eyes flashed, were blinding, his claws tense and splayed and razor sharp. "BELONG. TO. ME."

"Our contract is fulfilled!" Hawke said. "Leave me or kill me, I will never become a part of you!"

Hunger howled, and shook the walls.

"I will not lose myself," Hawke cried, "and all that I am!"

She clung to Fenris, and ran her hand over his wounds, sealing them with a prayer.

Hunger was descending over them, his jaws stretched wide with fury, his claws flexed and ready to separate them, to tear them apart, to shred them to nothing if necessary.

A great arcane projectile flooded the cavern with light. It smashed into Hunger's gaping mouth, sending him backward, to crash against the stalagmites.

Hawke wrenched around. Anders stood with his staff raised, heaving and dripping sweat, staring at them both.

She shouted his name, but his eyes snapped up, and Hunger was rising, the flesh of his mouth black and smoking, the teeth scorched, still intact. Anders whipped his staff to one side and fired again.

Hawke smoothed her hand over Fenris's face. "Fenris," she said urgently. "I need a dagger. Please."

He blinked several times. His eyes rolled to one side, and trembling he sat up. "There."

She turned. The body of a young woman draped across the ground like withered flowers. The hilt of a knife protruded from her red bodice. Lifelessly she stared up, at nothing either of them could see, or ever hoped to see.

Hawke crawled to the body and gripped the knife. She apologized silently and yanked the knife free. The blade was long and curved and sharp: a skinning knife. It would do. She wiped it on her robes.

Fenris staggered to her. Anders was shouting, feinting and skirting Hunger's claws. Fenris said, "I have to help him."

"Your sword —"

"They stripped it from me." He nodded to the body.

"We must bind him," Hawke said. She proffered the horse figurine. "It's the only way."

Fenris glanced askance. "But how —"

Hawke dropped the figurine to the ground. She raised the knife and brought its wicked edge down.

The wooden totem split. Its jagged halves splintered and fell away, revealing the gleam of a long brass pin.

"Maker," Fenris said.

"This charm is our only chance," Hawke said, palming it. "I pray it still holds the same power, after all of these years."

"Marian!" Anders shouted, and Hunger swatted him, and he collided with the wall, his surcoat falling open. He struggled to rise from the ground, as Hunger rounded on them.

"NOW I SHALL KILL THEM BOTH," he howled. "I WILL RIP THEM APART, BONE BY BONE, AND SUCK THE FLESH FROM THEM, AND GORGE MYSELF ON THEIR BLOOD."

"Fenris," Hawke uttered.

"I WILL SLIT THEIR BELLIES AND UNWIND THEIR GUTS."

"I need your help," she said.

"I WILL CRACK OPEN THEIR SKULLS AND SLURP UP THEIR EYES AND THEIR BRAINS, ALL WHILE THEY STILL LIVE."

"Anything," Fenris said.

She touched his throat. He placed a hand on hers, and realized she was tracing the scar there.

"We have a blood bond," she whispered. "I forged one, when I healed you in the sea cave. When I made this scar." She met his eyes. "It is the same bond that Hunger made with me, when he sealed the first scar in my wrist, when I was a child."

He searched her face.

"I need you to trust me," she said.

"AND YOU. WILL. BE. MINE."

"I trust you," Fenris said.

She embraced him. He clung to her. He pressed his cheek to hers, shutting his eyes fast. He thought of the small window in the roof, and its rose-colored light. He thought of her pale, scarred arm beside his on the staircase. He thought of Dragana questioning him in the garden, what he'd said, what it'd meant.

"There is great power," Hawke whispered, "in blood freshly spilled."

The edge of the blade met his throat, met hers, connecting the space between them.

"I love you," he said, and she drew the blade, cutting their throats.

They fell away from one another. Hawke heard Anders scream as though from some faraway place. The pulse of old maleficar magic thrummed in her veins, filling the space left by draining blood.

The blood danced in a frenzied mist. Scarlet gyres whirled between them. She spread her hands. She conducted. She stirred at the air. The crimson mist ribboned and swooped. It hurtled across the cave. It penetrated Hunger's flesh.

He shrieked.

The walls trembled. The cavern floor rocked beneath them.

Fleshy sinews and strings spilled from Hunger's nacreous hide. They lashed against the floor, around boulders, clung to reaching stalactites. Hawke stumbled forward. She touched her sliced throat. The pin flashed in her hand.

"MY LITTLE MAGE," Hunger screamed. His claws combed at the fleshy sinews, to no avail.

Hawke's chest heaved. Her vision was darkening. The black fleshy strings held fast, stretching as Hunger thrashed. Hawke collapsed at his feet. She glared up at him.

"I am not yours," she said, and pierced the strands with the pin.

The demon howled. His screams shook the cavern itself, and Hawke flung herself back, as rocks and boulders shook free of the ceiling and crashed down. She scrambled back to Fenris and shielded him, pressing her palm to his throat, and a palm to her own, whispering, as the cave threatened to bury them all.

Old magic scented the air. Hawke could feel it radiating from the pin. Old magic, borne from skilled hands somewhere deep in the Wilds, made to punish, to bind, and bind forever. She glanced back. Hunger yanked and tore at his bonds. They held fast. Rocks rained down around him. From behind him, Anders rose up, bleeding. He raised his staff like a beacon, and brought it back down. A long crack tore through the earth along the wall, across the ceiling, over Hunger's head. And he brought the ceiling down, caving in over the trapped beast.

Hawke squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to Fenris as the falling earth thundered around them. The crashing boulders blotted out Hunger's accusatory wails. The vibrating earth slowly grew still. After what could have easily been an eternity, all was quiet.

Hawke opened her eyes. She stared down at Fenris. He had grown pale and sickly-looking, from the loss of blood. His red eyes opened. They stared at one another. Neither noticed Anders as he shakily crossed the cavern to join them.

###

From rubypop:

Thank you, so much, to everyone who's been reading. Your encouragement has really meant a lot to me, and I'm happy to have finally finished this one. I appreciate your patience during my long absence, and I look forward to writing more fic in the future.

Thanks again!

[roland-terrasold-blog]

Journal 48

I never should have been worried for Linda. What was I thinking, of course she was fine. She got away on her own. And she nearly got us killed in the process.

I apologize, I jumped ahead again. I am just frustrated. It’s been a long day for all of us. Not long after I finished writing the last entry, Ichibod returned with small cylinders he called flashlights, which used some form of Blackwellian technology to light the way without magic. I considered refusing and just using my light spell as I’m more familiar with it than this technology, but the offer to conserve my magic wasn’t one I could pass up.

We traveled through the sewage tunnels. It smelled even worse than we’d expected, and when Ichibod threw away a ring (his wedding ring?) into the water it hissed like acid. This was for reasons we discovered not long after, when two large golems covered in acidic slime attacked us. Ichibod called for the elevator then slipped back into the hallway with Meinus, as neither was in a good state to fight. When we attacked these golems, large black oozes formed from them. Attacking the oozes only caused them to multiply as well, although Unae recalled from something she’d read that when oozes do this it caused both the original and new monster to be somewhat weaker.

One of the oozes zeroed in on me, but I managed to avoid its attacks and countered with a use of scorching ray while I tried to formulate a plan. Elkin managed to smash the golem one of the oozes had originated from, but in the process he fell into the acidic water. Unae tried shooting the ooze nearest Elkin to protect him, but all this did was caused the ooze to split again. This gave me an idea. I instructed Unae to split as many as she could with her arrows, and I prayed that my magic would strike true. After Unae had split as many as she could in the moments we had before they would go after Elkin, I set my plan in motion. There was one large black ooze almost perfectly in the center of all the others, that was my target. Calling on the arcane magic I could now draw from, I used chain lightning on the creature. As I’d hoped, the lightning that shot from my holy symbol struck the center ooze and jumped from it to each of the others. By the time the lightning fizzled out only one remained: the one nearest me. In my moment of triumph I wasn’t able to avoid the black pudding as it grabbed me and pulled me into its putrid acidic body. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t even really struggle. Luckily it only lasted a moment before I felt a painful cold encase me and then the ooze shattered around me: frozen by a well placed arrow from our resident markswoman. I have probably never been happier to see Unae.

We had to wait around for a time for the ‘elevator’ to arrive. In the meantime we healed and prepared for whatever else might stand between us and saving Linda. Then we boarded the elevator. It was similar to the room we entered in the Ruins of Wrath, which lowered us deeper into the ruins and where we’d first met the gabrezu demon. Fortunately this moving room did not include a demon, and it took us up higher into the city rather than deeper underground. This room moved using Blackwellian technology rather than magic, and I recall that in the moving room in the ruins I also couldn’t sense magic controlling the movement, so it’s likely the ancient Thasalonian ruin used a similar technology.

While we were in the moving room, we also heard music with no musician to speak of. Ichibod confirmed that the music was playing from within the elevator, and that it was another form of technology. Blackwell and ancient Thasalon had the strangest inventions…

I can still hardly believe that they created a city on the moon, much less that there are moving rooms with no magic to speak of, music playing without instruments or musicians, and large flying metal birds. It has been a strange day. Or strange couple of months? I’m still not certain how I should refer to our time here.

The elevator was slow moving and I managed to jot down some notes for this journal on the way up, although I was too distracted by the oddity of the situation (and the foreign music) to get terribly far.

When the doors opened, we found ourselves sickeningly high up. These buildings felt impossibly big, I think the only time I’ve been higher up was when we climbed Hook Mountain. I was grateful that I’d decided to prepare both Featherfall and Greater Angelic Aspect amongst my spells, although blessedly I didn’t have to use them.

Linda got me dangerously close to having to, however. As we walked across a catwalk impossibly high in the air, one of those large flying machines began heading directly for us. It wasn’t so much aimed for us as falling from the sky in an inconvenient direction. It was on fire, one of its wings was missing, there was a hole in the front, and Linda was almost naked on the roof with a bloody sword in her hand and yelling something that was lost to the wind.

We made a run for it, desperate to escape the falling machine. In our hurry, however, Ichibod fell behind. We turned around just in time to see him frozen in the middle of the walkway, the machine mere moments from crushing him. There was nothing we could hope to do.

It turned out there was nothing we would need to do.

Ichibod’s appearance changed drastically. One side of his black hair turned completely white, and his strange Blackwellian armor transformed into black and white robes and a large pointed hat, similar to the kind witches typically wear. He cast a spell, and in an instant the falling machine began moving as if it were alive, redirecting itself to crash a little past where we were, to keep any of us from being crushed.

At first I was stunned and confused about what had happened. When Ichibod rejoined us, I noted that his eyes were now purple, exactly like mine or Unae’s. The drastic changes must have been part of his own awakening. It appears that meeting a guard who would be willing to help us was not such a coincidence after all.

The poor man has been through much since meeting us, only hours ago at this point. His workplace fell from the sky, his people’s king tried to have him killed, he discovered his family life had been a lie, and now his body had been transformed by whatever ancestral magic each of us who have been awakened bear. I plan on trying to talk to him more when we’re in a safer position. While I don’t know what comfort a near-stranger from essentially a different world will be able to offer, I would like to try.

I’ve let my mind wander as always. It was a strange situation, but then what isn’t a strange situation in this city?

As the ship crashed, Linda leapt off, landing nearby. She went to attack Ichibod under the assumption that the unfamiliar Blackwellian guard was an enemy. I quickly stepped in before Linda could attempt to remove Ichibod’s head with her newfound sword, explaining that he was a friend and he’d been helping us to escape. Ichibod stumbled through an apology to Linda for anything that might have been done to her where she was being held. Then Linda reunited with Meinus, and seemed understandably worried and upset over his transformed state and how much pain he seems to be in. I wish we had time to stop so I could try to find a way to help Meinus. It will be my top priority next time we aren’t in the middle of enemy territory.

Linda told us that while she was in the flying machine, she’d gotten particularly angry and lost control, killing the guards flying the ship despite her better judgment (although I honestly don’t believe ‘better judgment’ and ‘Linda’ tend to go together even at the best of times).

This is a disturbing development. Either something was done to Linda while we were all unconscious or Linda is losing it. I don’t know which is worse, honestly. I’ve seen what Linda can do when she’s angry. If it’s going to get worse…I suspect Linda turning out similar to Ashton will be the least of my worries.

While we discussed this with Linda, Ichibod had taken the time to explore the plane wreck, claiming that he heard something. He returned with what looked like some sort of small snake-like construct. He referred to the snake as Craig. Looking back through my writing I’ve confirmed that this was the name of the dead guard who Ichibod discovered was sleeping with his wife. At first I feared that Linda was not the only person in our group whose mental health I was going to have to worry about. However after I considered the other possibilities, I suspect that this snake golem is his familiar. He did, after all, just awaken. Plus he showed an obvious talent for using arcane magic on machines, and he found this golem within the flying machine he’d enchanted. Why it would take on the persona of his dead rival, however, I don’t know.

We didn’t have a chance to rest after our little reunion. As we prepared to continue forward, two large machines climbed up the side of the building. They looked like two large dragons, but they were completely made of metal and moved through an intricate system of gears.

Unae began shooting volley after volley of arrows filled with electrical magic, which seemed very effective against the dragon constructs. Elkin stabbed one through the foot, temporarily pinning it, which gave Ichibod a chance to cast a spell at it. He used his magic in a unique way I’d never hear of before now, channeling it through his energy weapon rather than casting it outright.

I decided to cast bull’s strength on Linda while our ranged fighters had the dragons’ attention, in hopes that the added muscle would allow us to destroy the machines more effectively. Linda has been fond of killing dragons in the past, after all.

Unfortunately the constructs must not have been totally mindless machines, as they chose their position carefully before shooting a stream of fire from their ‘mouths’. Ichibod and I were both caught in the flames, with the former guard taking the brunt of the flames. At the same time the other dragon caught Elkin and Linda in a similar breath attack, leaving Unae and Meinus as the only ones not suffering from severe burns. Meinus took advantage of not being on fire to…tackle the dragon. He grappled a creature many times larger than himself. Successfully. I’m still a bit confounded by this. I also can’t decide if Linda’s been a bad influence on him or if she should learn from his technique…

Regardless, this bought me time to heal everyone who had been caught in the mechanical dragons’ fire. It also gave time for Ichibod to shoot the dragons again, this time with the ammunition used by his weapon rather than through any sort of spell. The energy attacks melted through the dragon, leaving a number of holes in it, although it was still functioning. Blackwellian technology is both amazing and utterly terrifying. Afterwards Unae finished off one of the dragons with a final flurry of electrical arrows, causing the machine to crumple in on itself.

At about this time Ichibod snapped again. He began laughing uncontrollably as he shot the remaining dragon. I didn’t have time to focus on Ichibod’s strenuous mental health at the time, however, as right afterwards Elkin charged the dragon. He drew on the berserker form of his sword and began viciously cutting through the mechanical dragon over and over…until his sword got jammed in the gears. The dragon seemed perfectly undeterred by having a sword jammed in its gears, and it took to the air. It landed behind me and Ichibod, unleashing another fire attack that caught both of us and Unae. Unae and Ichibod began unloading arrows and fire energy at the machine while I focused on trying to keep the others from dying from the fire. Ichibod seemed especially easily injured, maybe because he hadn’t been through all of the crazy battles the rest of us have, or maybe because his guard armor had been turned into robes, which I doubt provided as much protection from fire. Regardless of the reason, the healing magic was a necessity this fight.

Finally I guess Unae got fed up with the mechanical monster. She began peppering it with arrows, one after another in what seemed to be perfectly the same spot. Elkin’s sword came dislodged from the dragon’s gears, and Unae snatched it up before stringing it into her bow and shooting it through the dragon like an arrow.

I couldn’t make this up if I tried. Unae strung a sword into her bow and fired it through a mechanical dragon.

Afterwards Linda declared that we needed to stage a coup and take over Blackwell ourselves. Linda seemed ready for arguments, but Elkin quickly agreed with her. I’m uncertain, more as to whether we can win than as to whether we should, but we can hardly allow someone like King Blackwell to continue hunting us and abusing his power.

Ichibod, however, was understandably hesitant. He is a Blackwell citizen, after all. We were asking him to turn traitor against his home and his king, to help a bunch of complete strangers whose goals and motivations he doesn’t truly know. Linda argued, in that way when Linda is surprisingly eloquent, about how she wants to make things better for the people of Blackwell, and that she could lead the people into a better future. She offered him a hand, and after some hesitation he took it.

Afterwards Linda told Ichibod that if there’s anyone he needed to protect, he should get them out now, before the worst of the fighting really starts. Seeing as Linda hadn’t yet heard about what happened with Ichibod’s wife and son, she couldn’t have known that this was the exact wrong thing to say. Regardless of intention, however, this caused Ichibod to break down again, talking in jumbled sentences about his son Timmy who isn’t actually his son, who he cares about but can’t do anything for now. He began retreating into himself again until Elkin tried to snap him out of it. He told Ichibod to try to draw on his training as a guard, to keep it together for the time being. He reminded Ichibod that we were in a completely unfamiliar situation, too, and that it was terrifying, but that we were all holding it together, and he couldn’t be breaking down every few minutes. It was effective, as Ichibod seemed to pull himself together somewhat. Elkin’s words may have been a tad harsh, but it was probably what the former guard needed at the time. Regardless, I felt that I should extend some comfort to him. I told him the only thing I could think of in the situation, an aphorism to Sarenrae from The Light and Truth: “the dawn brings new light”. Whatever struggles he has to face today, I pray that when it’s over and the sun rises again, a new better life will await him.

I seem to be saying that a lot often, it’s similar to what I told Nel. I hope he is still holding out for us. We’ve been gone much longer than planned, but given how slowly time moves in Runeforge I’m holding out hope that it won’t feel as long to him.

We slipped into a room across from the catwalk, and Linda barred the door by ripping a metal desk away from the floor to bar the door. We decided to take a moment to rest here. Ichibod went off on his own to talk to his snake familiar and I suppose meditate it appeared. I worked on writing this for a time. Linda and Meinus are catching up and Unae just dragged Ichibod off elsewhere. It looks like we may be leaving in a moment.