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Fantasy Guild of Heroes: Recall Protocol

Sub Genres
  1. Action
  2. Adventure

ThatWhichShouldBe

Junior Member
Solomon of Abyrdshire
Location: Badlands Campsite
Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie
Swire Swire

The Farmboy stops, his sword a moment away from plunging into one of the dogs' cores, as he gawks at Cyrus's display of sorcerous prowess. Who were these people? He'd never even heard of someone being able to cast in such a way, with so much power, not even in his father's wildest stories! The runes flying through the air draw his eye, the Illiosan almost unable to look away, as the swirl of mana-consumption around his body begins to do something it had never done before. It began... to be sated. Magic, pure and potent, drawn in by the Archmage's spell, seeped through his skin into his marrow, gilding every vessel of blood in power and girding every muscle fiber in thrumming, furious energy that demanded to be used.

Solomon doesn't know what's going on, but the only way he can describe it... is like there's lightning living inside of him, under his skin, and it wants to be let out. For a moment, he thinks that's what Elsimore must have been casting, an incredible spell of enhancement to be sure, enough to make even a village boy feel like he can take on the world. He is, of course, terribly wrong.

Thence comes the explosion of light, and the lightning under his skin surges to a new height, a storm now roiling in his flesh and bone. The Dogs were cast to dust and ruin, and his allies freed, but for the Illiosian, his peril was far from over. The magic roiling under his skin was painful, it roiled and frothed, an ocean trapped in a bottle. Too much power all at once, too much might accrued in the span of a moment. Of course, this much wasn't enough to kill one of his kind. No, there was a very simple solution to this state of affairs, a cure that came to him by raw instinct.

If you have too much power, let it all out.

The earth beneath his feet cracks and sunders, craters being left in dirt and stone as Solomon moves at a breakneck pace, flying across the battlefield like an arrow loosed from a bow. His mind has stopped thinking at this point, giving way to that ancient, primal urge of all sapient creatures. To strike something with great force. Unfortunately for Agron, the warrior had been the one chosen to be the recipient of an Illiosian's wrath. In the blink of an eye, the village boy is behind him, bringing his steel sword down into Agron's back with devastating force, enough to send the warrior crashing into a tree across the vale, if not countered.
 

Hanarei

Rawr-ness
Claire Motoye

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Claire had been taken by surprise as it had all unfolded. The knight drawing her blade long after the fray had started. She felt rather out of place as the chaos unfolded all sorts of magic whizzing and whirling and strange techno babble things that she could hardly understand. Fancy magic as she seemed to consider it. She had shifted first seeking to come to the aid of Cryus though her gesture being quickly halted as the wizard seemed to have things sorted putting up his barrier. Her feet shifting to dash towards Sophia noticing as she seemed to be in trouble being frozen the girls feet carrying her only so far.... and casually through the magic barrier that she didn't even notice she had passed through to keep the group seperated only to see the ice taken care of as her head glanced over to notice Cyrus seemed to have taken care of it.

Wow... he... he really is a powerful old man! I... I mean elder archmage...

The girl thought seeming to feel the need to correct herself being rude despite it being only a comment made within her own mind. A rather wasteful bit of her own mental compacity given the danger going on around them. The girl jumped as she witnessed seemingly another approached cracking through the barrier the Archmage had made. The girl panicked as she ran back towards Cryus again her feet only able to carry herself so fast. After all, she was relying on strictly mortal physical limitations, ones of which mankind was meant to have and weren't supernatural in nature. Her feet carrying as she seemed to be too late... though fortunately Cyrus being left okay not being shot tough looking to be winded. The girl casually ran through the powerful barrier once more oblivious to it before darting in front as she did her best to protect the archmage.

"D... don't worry sir, I'll keep you safe!" She spoke out with a nod the squire standing her guard a soft gasp for air escaping her lips for her quick scurry, luckily not being so winded that she wasn't able to regain her composure.

lil_kreen lil_kreen Alteras Alteras Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel Birdsie Birdsie June Verles June Verles ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe
 

Alteras

The Sleepy One
Administrator
Supporter
Averza Reyes
LOCATION Camp
INTERACTIONS Cyrus, Ellis, Solomon, Jaunt, Sofia, Claire, Assailants
As the wind cleared the surroundings, Averza heard Jaunt's cry and moved forward. "Understood!"

Averza bounded forward with the wind enveloping her body, giving her a great amount of speed. She charged towards the Rune dog, sword raised, ready to catch the beast. In position, she swung her sword downwards, surging the metal with her mana, activating the Gravitas runes on it to make it heavier. Making contact with beast, she continued her swing to pin it against the ground.

But before a contest of strength between human and machine could begin, a large wave of magic radiated out from the center of camp. The dog turned into dust and her sword swung emptily towards the dirt. The literally annihilation of her opponent threw her stance off as she couldn't escape the inertia of her swing. Thankfully, it wasn't of much matter, as another wave of magic flowed through her, this time empowering her.

Realizing that the Rune dogs are no longer a problem, Averza quickly found her next target, an unfamiliar man raising a revolver in Cyrus's direction. She could see Claire running to protect the old man, but she judged that she should step in here, after all, her magic strength is back, no, it's even stronger. Averza pushed her left palm forward in the direction of the man, sending an massive volume of air with enough speed and force to send any ordinary man flying several meters. That should be more than enough to stop him... I leave the rest to Claire.

Having decided on that without actually checking, Averza quickly began setting up a new barrier, one made of wind. "Jaunt! More cover!" She shoved her sword into the ground, closed her eyes and opened her palms. Focusing on grabbing the remnants of the swirling wind around them caused by Cyrus's spell, Averza moved her hands in a circular motion, forcing the wind to pick up yet again. This time instead of clearing the view, she was focused on obscuring the battle from anyone outside the camp behind a powerful wall of wind. Her wind picked up dust and dirt, and snapped off whatever branches hadn't been pulverized from Cyrus's spell. With the much greater wealth of magic and strength within her, she formed the wind back into a cyclone with the whole camp as it's eye. As the wind reached speeds comparable to those made by the great spirit Aquilo himself, Averza focused on pulling in rocks, branches, dirt, anything that can be lethal at high speeds, into the vortex. With all the dust and debris flying through the air, it would now be difficult to peer into the camp, and suicidal to try to break through. It would also serve as a natural wall allies can use to pin their enemies against.

Ha! I've never been able to control a cyclone this well before! Let's leave the battle to the others. With Cyrus down and Ellis focused on melee, I'm on barrier duty.

lil_kreen lil_kreen Hanarei Hanarei Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel Birdsie Birdsie June Verles June Verles ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Swire Swire

 
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June Verles

Depression? Never heard of her.
Dr. Lenin D. Arwin

Location: Campsite Interactions: Birdsie Birdsie Swire Swire ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Alteras Alteras Hanarei Hanarei Silver Wolf Silver Wolf lil_kreen lil_kreen


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After a couple of seconds of fumbling like a fool with a gun to give any /k/ nerd a heart attack, the Doctor would have had his barrel pointed at the Magus. A gun he would have fired if he didn't see him start channelling a spell of a certain magnitude that no trust fund wizard at an Albion magical academy could replicate. So, in his own vanity, he waned his aggression, pulling down the barrel. Lenin wanted to see magic cast by a mage in his own class and his proximity would give him a first class seat.

Like an excited child, he would look up as the wizard levitated in the air with eyes full of glee. However, that curiosity warranted by his carefree belief that he would be safe no matter what due to his new found biology would come to an abrupt end, a frown forming on wrinkles face. What happened was a first even for him and a scientist hates seeing that his magnus opus be proven faulty.

His perception of time sped up dramatically, the world slowing down to a crawl. The spectacled man could note how he saw Inir's rounds fly through the air at a snail's pace or how he could see people's lips move before any semblance of sounds left them. However, he would unfortunately he would be unable to focus on that as he felt his mind be forcibly expanded, split, shattered over and over in an agonising cycle, forcing Lenin to claw his scalp in pain as black ichor drooped out of his ear canals all in a matter of seconds to the outside world, but feeling like an eternity to him.

The perfect instincts that he was so proud of, were going haywire at the chanting and that frightened the body. It attempted to comprehend the threat, creating more processing power for to split up and decode the words that were the runes appearing at the wizard's behest. But a simple mortal mind no matter it's ability to evolve couldn't simply just comprehend divine inspired script, they simply operated on a different plane of existence.

That's when the second thing Lenin didn't know could happen happened, the simple editing of his genetics, to allow him to survive no matter what, spread like a virus. Through the process of elimination it realised in it's current state it couldn't adeptly protect him so it evolved and got attached to his very essence of self, in other words his spirit. Mutating in an unknown manner.

Just in time as the spell had finished casting, Lenin's body shifting it's very nature from that of human flesh and bone to the purest form of the Terronous, a body completely out of platinum powered by the very essence of reality to combat the Aeronous winds that were assaulting him. But the answer would quickly reveal itself not to be that, as the polarity created a microchasm of chaotic energy at the border of his body, akin to the appearance a new world being forged by the primordial titanic forces of nature. This solution wasn't a permanent one and would only create a more dangerous environment for the host, the body deduced.

So like that, the platinum was reduced to lower and lower metals, as it was shredded away by the blowing winds until nothing remained...

Or so it would appear until the spell dissipated. Where the physical body of the Doctor once now what looked like flowing concentrated gusts of wind, in the shape of the man, Lenin bearing the appearance of a zephyr like spirit as he himself took a look at what he became and came to his own conclusions as to what happened. He had become the wind that Cyrus wielded, held together by his transcendent spirit.

It simply looked towards the tired mage and his knightly protector, communicating by transmitting it's intent spiritually as it lacked the ability to speak as they did. An aura of gratefulness would be sensed by the Magus followed by a feeling of disinterest, one deducing that it lost interest with him now that he was tapped out.


So it surveyed the battlefield for another thing that might interest it and it's vision landed on the empowered Illosian. As he floated towards the fateful duel it was having with Agron, reforming it's flesh out of thin air in an eldritch manner until it fully materialised behind Solomon, embracing him in a loving hug from behind, resting his head on his shoulder.
"You, are a beautiful specimen. Do you want to get out of here?"
 

June Verles

Depression? Never heard of her.
Sasha Korneev

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It would soon be discovered by the newly formed party that the best arrangement for horseback transportation would be for Sasha to be on the front and have the much taller Sienna behind her on the ladder. Sasha would have to admit she regretted that she wouldn't get to experience the full experience of hugging the owl beast woman, but being the little spoon wasn't an arrangement she hated either, it was like a sensation akin to being surrounded to fluffy pillows on all sides.

It was a good deal for both of them too, since they could travel 24/7 on top of Midnight who somehow proved it's monstrous reputation even more by only needing to feed on Sasha's wooden arm to continue, so a shift of where Sasha steered during the day and Sierra took the night shift. It was weird though, even asleep the little operative seemed still aware of it's surroundings, the assassin instincts in Sienna giving off the feeling that even resting in her arms Sasha wasn't defenceless

Cutting away to her inner world, a beautiful landscape of rolling hills littered with blooming pink Sakura trees the gag squad that were her soul tenants rested around a beautiful lake.

"You know, it was pretty neat the first day with these fucking trees." he comments in an irritated manner, eating a rotting preserved fish out of a can. "But it's starting to feel like I'm stuck on a 15 old girl's windows screen saver, like if I was a hippie vanir worshipper I'd be all over this."

"I don't hate the colour." Sir Fuchsalot "It's how I like my meat done." Ever the man who liked to get all of the nutrients from his food.

At this point though, Adventurer 1 was used to his behaviour so he ignored it and made his own remarks. "I kind of agree with the sorcerer, isn't it kind of strange who's she's so buddy buddy with a girl she's just met? Like all the trees have S+S on them in hearts and I'm pretty sure from her heritage that she doesn't love German history."

"Don't worry this isn't just a romcom, Sasha knows her claws can't penetrate her body armour from this proximity and that she'll be fast enough to react to strikes to above the neck." Mr. No One comments as he sips on his tea and reads Sienna's mental file.

"I like rom coms, they're nice." Chris just... said with no follow up? Like he had normal tastes in things? This was the weirdest thing that happened the entire trip.


Back in the real world, they would have to the border of Albion. Tugging on the wind mage's cloak Sasha would look up at her. "Sienna we're here."

Noble Scion Noble Scion Birdsie Birdsie
 

lil_kreen

New Member
Jaunt Nemesis
Location:
Campsite
Nearby/Mentioned: Birdsie Birdsie ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Hanarei Hanarei

Behind the robo-dog, a ruddy cloud of dust darkened with approaching gleam when Cyrus' spell erupted a flash as his hammer pounded the earth with thunder. Already incensed he slid and rotated forward closer to Averza his primary eyes shifting to peer about the battlefield. Hammer at the ready moved forward in line with the crack of sniper fire for the field of magic to pour into his body from Cyrus' detonation of raw power.

Doctor's discordance now all through him Jaunt's nature was a block of resonance carefully carved into flesh through generations of Matriarchs. His grey mineral wool saddle quietly started to torque and smooth then boiling little silver dervishes as magic poured into the ruined mental cathedral. Another gleaming window of Averza's hand held high against the swirling curve of a cyclone erupts in his mind as the light inside forces it into existence by the pour of magical energy. A single reflex at the words she uttered before they could fully leave her mouth already had left her will. Jaunt leaped as the cyclone embraced him to sink into that spell's daydream with contortions of his inner will. Alteras Alteras June Verles June Verles

The particles and boulders of the took up a fever of wrath like a new muscle tensing reflexes inside the spell. The wind's pitched howl took on edged anger as the boulders fell in march behind him like good soldiers. Less inside the cyclone than inside the spell itself a reflex of projectile defense twitched somewhere in-between minds and a hard gust erupted its wrath from the inner wall of the cyclone with the hammer held fore.

Rocketed across the battlefield a thunderous clang and a gleam of red as Inir's bullet deflects off his hammer. Ground into raw mana by the totem it channels the eruption across the ley toward Sophia as it ricochets a shape off the dragon. One tiny luminous dragon sacrifice of healing potential popped into flapping orbit above her head undeterred by the wind. Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Swire Swire

Jaunt holds his legs close as he's carted by wind through the opposing wall. Projectiles deflect a careful clutch around him as he's absorbed deep in the wind wall. A shadow that clangs hammer-blows as the wrathful will from her spell's borrowed animus picks up lodged objects using its new appendage. He rockets out of the wall as her small cyclone or Jaunt's eyesight senses a place his deflection is needed. Armor burning a fibrous silver as he careens across dusty rivers. The wind wall rapidly acquires rocky shrapnel from strikes at boulders within.
 
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Swire

The Ace of Spades, in a Uno deck
Black Ops Captains


The clash of sword to shield, Baron had placed a barrier around himself to protect him after having been thrown. He regained his balance and stood tall, before defending Elsimore's attack. He was surprised by the sheer force the boy now possessed. Overpowered by Elsimore's physical strength, he broke the clash in defense.

"Incredible!" He spoke to Elsimore. "To think he was able to destroy the barrier in moments and empower your allies. Your master Cyrus is a man of greatness! I am sure you must be honored to be his apprentice! I myself am honored to simply be on the battlefield with him and to clash with you as well."


There is a sense of understanding you pick up over time of how strong someone is. Where do they hold their sword, how do they move, where is their center of balance. Agron was well attuned to these sorts of things, but it doesn't take a genius to see the ground crack beneath the boy and realize Agron couldn't take or clash the blow. Fire erupted from Agron's hands, the explosion wasn't designed to hurt Solomon, but rather to send Agron out of the way faster than his sword.

As Agron saw the devastation that Solomon's blow cause as it hit the ground, he realized what had happened. Although, the doctor seemed to take interest in Solomon so that Agron could pull away. "Thanks for the assistance doctor, I will leave him to you."

Every individual here now possessed enough strength to fight any black ops member.
With the rise of Averza's wind barrier, it was time to make a decision. They could certainly still leave. For a brief moment, Agron remembered Kyro's words.


After a moment, a portal opened within the center of the camp. Both Inir and Syi stepped through, joining Agron and Baron. Syi spoke, for the first time this mission to the rest of the group. "A-a-a-a-are you sure this is a g-g-g-good idea?" The portal evaporated behind them.

"That's for me to decide, do it Inir." Argon replied.
Leaping away from Elsimore briefly to his companions. Baron cast a light defensive spell, giving each a small barrier and some bonus stats. Nothing like what Cyrus did, but anything is helpful.

Inir pointed his gun toward Cyrus who was being protected by Claire. The gun's barrel made a haunting electric sound as it changed shapes. Now less a barrel and more three circular spiraling runes before the handle of the gun. This was why his gun was custom designed by the Overlord.

The sniper threw into his gun several types of bullets: antimagic, lighting, heavy, fire. Just about all of them. As the bullets fell into the flouting center of the gun, they were torn apart down to the molecules. The gun retained the properties of the bullets while hyper condensing them. The condensed center mass flouted within the three circular runes.

It was a railgun and whatever, or whoever, was in its path when it fired was going to be destroyed. The gun screamed as it drew energy from all around it, the first of three runes lit up indicating its charge. "This will take some time," Inir warned Agron. Surely, this would be their final attempt.


"Let me handle that," Agron said lunging to Averza's wind barrier. "Earth." He said covering himself in rock to protect against the flying debris. What he would do next would drain him of his remaining mana. He only hoped it was worth it.

"Your wind shall be your own destruction." Agron pressed his hand against the wind barrier and said "Frost."

One could nearly feel the heat being repelled from the air around them. Agron charged as the life of his mana was drained from his body. Whatever was left was used to produce a heat barrier around him.

Ice and snow erupted from his hand, the winds spiraling and spinning the frost around. The once brown a dusty spiral of wind became a glorious white envelopment of cold. Like water and oil, the frost forced the heat outside as it formed walls of ice that encapsulated the camp, entombing every member of the guild inside of it. The camp had become one massive snowglobe. The outer glass was ice and the inside, a blizzard of spiraling snow created by the remanence of the wind spell.

Soon the spiraling snow would fall, but each member would have to deal with the now increasingly low temperatures and reduced vision of the airborne frost spiraling around. Baron's personal barriers provided some level of comfort, but even Agron's allies would suffer from the cold.

Agron returned and each member became intent on defending Inir. Although no mana left, Agron would try to face Jaunt and Averza should he see them. Baron was looking for Elsimore and Sophia. Syi would take the rest and assist when he could.


 
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Birdsie

The God-Emperor of Mankind
Elsimore Bellathriel

A thunderbolt of ceaseless silver illuminated him, racing along the length of his spine, seizing upon his beating heart, radiating out. As he and Baron danced and struck at each other, parried, twisted, Elsimore found himself only becoming more agile and mightier with every passing moment, every breath seeing his complete vivification and exaltation sharpen. It felt like being subject to a grindstone or thresher, refined with its each and every revolution to a level beyond mortal, a familiar sensation of inhuman power in every limb, sufficient to tear stone from stone or powder wood into errant splinters.

A number of times before, he'd tested the limits of his personal skill in swordsmanship to find himself pressed against a cage made of physical law. A human could only move so fast. A human could only perceive so much. Now he pressed as hard as he'd ever pressed and found no limits where they should have been, the cage disintegrated utterly. A fearsome velocity had replaced it; momentum without inertia, acceleration without brakes or pauses; a power overwhelming like a transcendental supernova piercing the endless sky. A glimpse, too, of the kind of hero that he used to be prior to his imprisonment in the void. A hero who cared nothing for the limits of physical law and what ordinary humans could achieve.

It would've appeared short to a mortal's eyes - an exchange of blows lasting a few seconds, but it was an intricate process, with dozens of attempted strikes, parries, blocks, and skillful evasion on both sides, yet with Elsimore's foe constantly finding himself as progressively losing the initiative. At last, Baron retreated to join together with his team.

Elsimore grit his teeth in anger at losing lock on his foe, for not punishing his escape, observing the battlefield with a half-lidded glare.

Around Elsimore, the frost of Agron's spell rolled over in thick waves of diaphanous mist, obscuring his vision, but Elsimore recalled the state of the battlefield moments prior - with an unknown foe suddenly assaulting their newfound ally from behind, and the enemy sniper preparing a round to fire at his master.

He was faced with a terrible choice of aiding a single ally. If he loitered to help neither, the cold mist would claim the battleground and lose him any opportunity to act. It should have been obvious: save his master. And yet, his master would insist on saving the young man on their side, perceiving his own life as a spent shell. Their ally's powers were unknown to them, his capabilities to escape the doctor's grasp within the realm of question marks. Although his movements before seemed fast and strong, fluid with grace, the doctor's own skills were also unknown, and the ice seemed to be a strong impediment - not acting here could be equivocal to a death sentence for any of the parties involved.

It was so reminiscent of something else that happened before, and, in his amplified state, the synapses of his mind clashed with each other in a brutal tackle, torsion of reminiscence like echoes of another life swirling together in a dim ascent, producing vague images in his mind, which soon resolved into savage memory.

He remembered - in snapshots, it came to him, a blue thundering of memories - a life before this.

He could remember as she threw herself in front of the lunging cursed blade, arms spread to the sides to impede the death knight as much as possible. He remembered the fiery amber of her eyes, bright with unshed tears, her smile of conviction and remission, the shock of her wine-red hair spread out like a saintess' halo.

He remembered his body moving on its own, exploiting the rare opening in Verraketh's poise, blade already piercing her heart and thus unable to reflect Elsimore's own.

He remembered those final words, said with a thin line of blood moving down from her lower lip and dribbling onto her chin.

"Win. That's all that matters."

He sprang forward, like an uncoiled snake, into action. He wouldn't choose, not here and not today - he'd save all of them.

A vertical slice went down from above and severed both of the arms holding Solomon in place, red blood dashing over the frozen snow around them like geysers of crimson warmth. A follow-up straight kick sent the doctor flying several meters back, the shockwave vacuum of snowflakes left perturbed by his wide trajectory swirling across between them.

He didn't pause or wait, however - Elsimore acted further, burning his mana reserves to nothing in a single casting, swinging his staff to produce an avalanche of flame that burned its way through the mist and cold, in the direction of the operators sent to apprehend them. A ploy to give some time for Claire to move Cyrus out of the sniper's field of view, and for the rest of the team to properly regroup. As the fire poured out of his staff's tip, he could feel himself draw on the energy that Cyrus' spell had imbued him with, and he spent that as well, flecks of silver entering the flames to pierce the enemy's barriers and to leave the ground itself a glassy aberration of half-molten quartz.

Swire Swire lil_kreen lil_kreen Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe June Verles June Verles Silver Wolf Silver Wolf
 
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June Verles

Depression? Never heard of her.
Dr. Lenin D. Arwin

Location: Campsite Interactions: Swire Swire Alteras Alteras Hanarei Hanarei Silver Wolf Silver Wolf lil_kreen lil_kreen


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There it was! Elsinorre had set his heart ablaze heavily injured the unknown assailant around Solomon and created a flame strong to make an elemental lord of fire blush. Most importantly he protected everyone.

"Most peculiar." His moment would however be snapped by an observation from an unfamiliar voice, heard mere inches from his face. Looking out of the corner of his eye as he continuously channelled the flame he would see the Doctor's relaxed wisteria coloured eyes stare at him back with a sense of fascination. But how could this be, he was sure he cut his hands off and sent him away flying!

Something was off though, the doctor now lacked his glasses or any of his clothes for that matter, though the cold didn't seem to bother him when so close to the origin of the fire.

"Don't be alarmed Elsimore Bellathriel the current holder of the Ensilvered Sorcerer moniker. I am just a temporary instance created from the arms you cut, call me Dr. Lenin-A1 if you wish." He said in an eerily non-hostile manner as the eyes of this so proclaimed instance studied him like one would a natural phenomena, one could wonder what was going through his head just as it's cheek slowly lost colour and dried out, skin and flesh flakes being blown away into the atmosphere by the wind to reveal the decomposing teeth below it.

"Elsimore." It addressed him as the necrosis spread up to through to the top of his head by the blood in his blackening veins. "I'm sorry for underestimating you, you have to forgive me I just assumed you were a boring and frankly insulting imitation of Cyrus. I've clearly been proved wrong, I hope you show me many more brilliant shows of power like this in the future." He said with a hopeful smile as the top of his skull fully caved into the already bloating grey brain before the living carcass lifelessly collapsed on the tiny layer of snow next to him. Birdsie Birdsie

Just a few feet away Solomon who still might've been blood thirsted could be preview to the sight of the grotesque process of Lenin's cut off right arm rapidly growing a skeleton, covering itself with flesh and packaging itself up in a lovely skin suit. This instance of Lenin would seem confused and take just a moment to realise what had happened before he stood up and patted himself down.

"Right sorry about, I might've been too aggressive in my personal interest and your friends saw fit to take me away from you, all is fair in love and war after all." he chuckled at his own analogy. "Nice to finally meet one of you, I would have proffered to speak to such a special specimen such as you in person, or at least clothed, but this will have to do." The instance extended it's hand out, only for it to decompose around the bicep and fall off on the ground below, Lenin's clone sighing and shaking his head in disappointment. "It seems I won't get to however, rather sad I know. But I'm sure we'll see each other again Iliosian." Just as this one went into post mortem right before him and toppled to the side. ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe


Beyond the flames and the powerful chilly winds, the Doctor would get up as his hands unceremoniously grew back into being before being covered up by his magical clothing. Staring at the enhanced flames he would turn to Agron who he luckily ended up close to.

"Captain, I don't mean to impose beyond my rank. But we have seemed to have lost the rune hounds and our element of surprise, our foes seem to be only getting stronger now. I hate to end a scientific observation early, but I don't agree to unnecessary waste of resources and loss of personnel. I suggest you order the fall back and we rethink our approach." He placed his opinion to the Black Ops Leader. Swire Swire
 

Swire

The Ace of Spades, in a Uno deck
Black Ops Captains


"Syi, get us out of her--"

It was a spit second Agron had turned around. The weaved threads of flesh that connected his central body to his arm were separated. In one swift swing, Averza had robbed him of his right arm. Unable to maintain against her momentum, he collapsed with his right knee forward. Spinning the blade around she pierced clean through his knee into the ground beneath him in hopes this would chain him, rendering him unable to leave through Syi's portal for escape.

"Should've kept your eyes on me." She said as she grabbed his head with her free hand, keeping him in place.

Watery waves of flowing silver weaved in-between colors of blue and red, while the radiant heat bloomed spores of spiraling white, separating from its host before extinguishing. It was a beacon for those blinded by the winter fall of a storm created out of desperation. Tearing through the last hopes of the defenders of the Overlord's rule.

It was Baron who first rose to meet Elsimore's attack. Placing all he had into a defense that would hold against his foe's attack, he could never imagine how futile his attempt would be. Light Silverfire finely weaved in between his imperfect projections of the soul. As if a mother giving warmth to her child, a mature law of the world came to give him comfort that his inferior resistance would not, could not, exist next to the magnificence of the silver that flowed from its guide. The universe provided him a feeling of assurance, that should his muddly creations stand against the flow of such lovely swirls of shimmy creation, then this world was unfair.

As swift as Baron, unwillingly, accepted the loving laws of nature, the raw iron shield became the last thing between him and oblivion. Flames poured around, superheating his shield to ignite his hand and melt the shield to the molten rock from whence it came. Without even direct contact, the flames left permanent marks across all that which was Baron's whole. It was Inir's quick thinking that saved Baron from being free from the flesh prison his soul inhabited.

A click as the second rune lit up. There was no time to wait for the third, the railgun was not going to charge to completion. Like shockwaves of sound, the snow began mirroring the pressure the gun released. Like waves washed against walls of sand, the snow was dragged along, smashed against the outer ice walls, and the immense pressure created from the unstable firing of the railgun collapsed the dome.

And the release, a bolt whose outward energy would violently punish Baron unto the dirt below, rendering him unconscious as it passed by. Only a few seconds later, the bolt, which moments ago appeared to have limitless power, was cupped in the hands of the silver flame. In the dead center, the shot was alleviated of its momentum. Holding for a moment before it was freed from its struggle, dissolved into nothingness.

During the short time Inir's shot had created, Syi held his hand to the ground. Each Black Ops member was known for one ultimate technique which drained their mana. Although Agron had not shown his, Inir's was the railgun, Baron his barrier, and Syi was a mass teleport.

A shockwave of disconnect fell through the camp. As if, for a second, everyone felt they weren't in the right place at the right time, a familiar feeling for those trapped within the void. Black energy erupted from Syi as countless strings connected different erratic locations to the camp. It's impossible to create an untraceable portal, but it is possible to make so many your enemies won't know which one you took.

Unlike the other portals, this spell took all allies of the Black ops and removed them from their locations. As countless rifts littered the battlefield the Black Ops members and the doctor vanished to another location far away.

Agron got one last look at Averza and Jaunt before crying, "This isn't over!"

 
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ThatWhichShouldBe

Junior Member
Solomon of Abyrdshire
Location: Badlands Campsite
Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie


And so, the battle was over... Just like that. It'd been a whirl of violence and chaos and he was still left... very confused. And more than that, Solomon was completely and utterly exhausted. The farmboy collapses to his knees, using his sword to prop himself up, the bitter chill having sapped its strength even if it'd been quickly dispelled. That, coupled with the intense exertion... well, he honestly just wanted to go to sleep right now. He closes his heavy eyelids, feeling his body sag... wait, no! Not right now!

"Wh.... What just happened??? Who were they?"
 

Silver Wolf

Something Random
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Sophia Gertrude
Location: Border Woods?
Mentions/In Area: Birdsie Birdsie Swire Swire Alteras Alteras lil_kreen lil_kreen ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe June Verles June Verles Hanarei Hanarei

After locking her shield and getting frozen, Sophia was stuck and she watched the rune dogs power up an attack. Instinctively she tried to shove more vitality into her shield, only for her skin to finally become a sickly pasty white. Her strength left her and she took a deep breath of air, only to find that her lungs couldn't make use of it. The human body, after all, had its limits. Her eyes rolled back and her eyelids shut, she leaned to the side, her balance gone and the ice cracked as she fell.

"I really screwed up..." were her last thoughts before her body thumped to the ground as the battle raged on. How was it that she had become so weak? The others seemed to have minimal issue with the void interference, but for her it was clearly worse. So much so that she couldn't be of nearly as much use in combat as she had. After all, she was nearly brought to her knees thanks to a direwolf, not its pack, but a lone beast. Much fiercer monsters were on her agenda, and the vampires hadn't helped.

Another day, she would have been a fierce contender upon the battlefield, but today she wasn't much better than deadweight. As the battle raged on around her, she breathed heavily on death's door. Cyrus's buffing clearly hadn't done much if anything at all. Long ragged breaths moved like waves across her chest as her body desperately tried to cling to life. While it would take a long time for her to die, it was clear she would if nothing was done. She could only now rely on her comrades to get her to safety. Next she woke up, she would certainly not know where she was or how she got there.
 

Hanarei

Rawr-ness
Claire Motoye

mCQaEXi.png

Claire stood resolute in her position to act as a protector for Cyrus. To prove herself as capable was important, and more importantly to act as a proper knight and protect others above all else. There was nothing more valuable and she was willing to give her life if it meant to serve the greater good. The knight looked to Cyrus as she tried to help usher the wizard away to safety not wanting to leave him so exposed and at risk. Even as the bitter cold closed in she stood resolute... mostly due to the fact it had absolutely no effect on her created by magic as it was. Perhaps making her look tougher then she really was even if it felt just the same as it was before all the commotion started.

"Come on now we got to..." She muttered as the shot rang out the girl shifting as to block it, though such an action appeared to be unneeded as it was stopped in its tracks. The girl blinking as she was left rather puzzled. Their assailants making a rather swift retreat. The young knight letting out a soft sigh of relief, being a bit more worn out then she would like to admit embarrassingly not having the luxury of a full rest before ontop of shuffling around earlier on trying to find a place of which would best fit her to handle in the battle.

Despite how worn out she might of felt, the fact Sophia seemed to hit the ground with a loud thud sent a wave of panic to the young knight. She darted over suppressing any sort of exhaustion as she rushed to her side, her hand nearly touching her before pulling back as she caught herself from being hasty. After all, who knew what sort of magic might be effecting her keeping her in a stable condition as she might be now. Her own touch might possibly disrupt it and cause her far more harm then good.

"Ah L... Lady S.. Sophia! She isn't looking good." She spoke the girl taking a deep breath using her rule break allowing her to touch Sophia without disrupting her magic as to try and not accidentally harm her more, despite how drained she felt from bending the rules already so much today.


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Noble Scion

Lover of Lewd and Space
Sienna Fei
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As the duo was settling into their travels, the calm pace they'd set would soon be interrupted by Sienna staring into the woods, her head cocked as she focused, and soon after, leaping off the horse in the same direction. "I hear voices, they sound... Pained? It's hard to tell. I'll only be a moment, it's my duty to help. You may come if you'd like." She'd explain, before beginning her journey into the forest on foot.

It wouldn't take long for the owl to find herself coming face-to-face with a surprisingly large group, each of which apparently exhausted by... Whatever they'd just been doing, though the scorch marks and gore indicated a fight.

She wasn't quite sure if they were enemies or not quite yet, that was until she spotted a face she'd know anywhere.

"S-Sir Cyrus?! Here? I thought you were dead! A-A-AND MASTER ELSINORE?" she'd squawk in disbelief, amazed that her random endeavor into the woods had brought her to one of the most renowned sorcerers of their age and his successor. She would bring the backs of her claws up to her face and rub her eyes in disbelief, before composing herself, remembering she was in the company of others.

"What in the world did I miss? Ah, forget that. You all seem tired, and companions of the silver sorcerers are companions of mine, though.. I've never really met them in person..." she bumbled, apparently in a cheery mood as she contentedly hopped her way over, hands rising up, and with them, a flow of water from the surrounding plant life to form a large floating orb of liquid, about the size of Sienna herself.

"Regrettably I am not a healer, but I can't imagine some water will hurt as... Well, you all don't appear to be in the best of condition. Ignore the void around me if you can detect it, I've had a strange past few days."

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June Verles

Depression? Never heard of her.
Dr. Lenin D. Arwin

Sasha Korneev

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Much to the dismay of the extra personages squatting for free inside her mind the inner world of this girl was a constantly blooming pink Sakura trees, surrounding an Idyllic lake. Most of them thought that it was fine for the first couple of days, but at this point they were starting to think of plans on how to sour her mood up so they had a different change in scenery. Luckily for them, something would interfere for them in Sasha's Idyllic horse riding trip with Senna.

As the owl mage jumped off and started hopping through the trees Sasha would guide Midnight to follow her, the giant horse only managing to keep up with the blitzing Owl-beastwoman due to being able to go fully gallop due to Sasha using her floramancy to clear the forest path in front of them, the girl from another world not willing to let Sienna out of her sight.

And just as she had managed to catch up, she would be privy to the sight of Sienna gushing over some random generic dude with white hair, even calling him master. The existances inside her mind would be able to observe as the beautiful scenery slowly got filled out of unnatural black shatters as it collapsed into a dark nothingness.

"Oh wow, she got crushed a lot easier than what I would have expected, so is she going to kill the Elsimore guy mentally?" Adventurer 1 noted as the now much more grey world.

"No, Sasha might be completely inexperienced in the matters of love but she also knows that it's not his fault Sienna chose him over her, I'm just impressed by how down bad one person can be." Mr No one, the mana ghosts comments as he lights up a match to see in this weird new decor.

"Serves her well, using the magic I gave her to displace all that essential floor level fauna to get here faster." The tree lover commented, but was promptly ignored by everyone else.

"I don't know what the chicken lady sees in that young guy and his master, in my prime I'd wipe my dirty wrinkly røv with their hides." inferring that he was still old in his prime idea of himself.

"This is good for her, a broken heart will make her work out harder." Sir. Fuchsalot surprisingly approved.


Back in the real world Sasha would just be blank headed as she felt her heart be crushed, but she saw the girl on the ground with a blue expression. Her instincts kicked into action as she jumped off Midnight and slid across the grass on her knees to the downed Sophia and looking up Sophia.

"Do what I'm about to do with the same intensity do you understand?" She spoke to her in an order like manner, as she put one hand over the other and pressed hard once or twice per second for 10 seconds. "Don't stop." She added on.

Reaching into her item storage she would pull out a first med kit, pulling out a syringe labelled epinephrine. Pulling up Sophia's sleeve she would take the cap off and wet her finger to lubcriate the area over one of her major veins, before injecting it her with it.

Shuffling up to her head, she would open Sophia's mouth and start giving her mouth to mouth, effectively breathing for her, as she only leaned away to suck in fresh air to push back into Sophia's lungs.


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lil_kreen

New Member
Jaunt Nemesis
Location:
Campsite
Nearby/Mentioned: Birdsie Birdsie Swire Swire ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Alteras Alteras Hanarei Hanarei Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles

The spell reacted as Agron started to change its nature. As cold subsumed the Matriarch's will the shrapnel changed course. Imploding on the threat even as rocky shrapnel froze by an animistic defense borrowed from one of the Lineage of Wrath. One that would not and could not surrender leading with his hammer first in a red comet among many heading toward Agron, Jaunt slowed as the ice tried to keep in under though a feral icy howl fought with the cold to tear him free. As Jaunt slipped out of the daydream with the weakening of the whirlwind the shrapnel around him quivered and cracked with spiderwebs of fractures in the ice.

Until the hoar frost grasping Jaunt was immolated by Ellisnore. The fine hoar frost died thus the wall gave a wet shudder as the last gasp of a windstorm shotgun blasted toward the individuals as they fled through portals. Jaunt left behind them to fall heavily to earth with a thud his armor flickering its sliver once more then fading out with a tuft. The spider head turned as he stumbled upright to his many legs and puked a rather moist pile of silver that rapidly started to evaporate. Some of his legs dragged as they were too numb to respond but the resilient large blade arms helped drag his way toward the portal then slammed them in the ground at Agron's shout. He put one blade arm across another then bent one upward. His transceiver was a block of ice thus laying on the ground with his ventral side repeated the obscene gesture with as many limbs as he could muster.

The hammer slams into its holster with a bang and shatter of ice as Jaunt got up again to partly drag himself over to Sophia. A Matriarch had fallen but they still stood. His personal reserves not in much better condition from the forcible injection of energy the blood rage pushed him forward. Matrem Vult, death before dishonor. The frigid spider body fills the gap of a melting ice wall where Sophia and others stood within just to stop then collapse on the ground. His fading mind demanding an occupation of the entrance with his bulk.

One spindly hand took a death grip on Sophia's boot as the other fell limp. Jaunt would recover the from mana, frost, and thermal burns though collapsing into unconsciousness for a little while. Best not to poke the reflexive talons on his blade arms with any fingers one didn't need. As long as he lived they were sluggish from the cold but still quite active.
 

Swire

The Ace of Spades, in a Uno deck
Kyro Script
LOCATION Unkown --> Royal Castle
INTERACTIONS June Verles June Verles


From a vacant space light warped around emptiness. As such massive distortion of space was forced on to unwilling locations tension was created. That tension reverberated shocks back into Syi, clouding his mind with energies from which he drew. Particles of void reformed in the bodies of the Black ops members, as well as the doctor.

Blood ran unconditionally from Agron's severed flesh. He held his hand to the open wound and clawed at the bottom of his reserves, blindly scraping at the wood from the now empty barrel. As just of bit of energy resurfaced, flamed enveloped his arm and seared the wound closed. His leg could be healed, but his arm would never return.

Inir unloaded their supplies, within one of their bags was a large totem-looking rune. Symbols and magic littered the object. As Inir powered up the device blue lines expanded from it, swirling around them and lifting into the air. Spirals of blue energy reached up into the sky like a beacon. It would return them to the capital but had a longer charge time, so it couldn't be used in battle.

The sniper sat down next to Argon who was attempting to maintain his strength despite his profusely bleeding leg. Baron was laying on the ground unconscious, scarred across his entire body. Then there was Syi, who overwhelmed by his own ability, in a display, one would call insanity, rotated around on the ground chanting whispers of inaudible nonsense.

"Return...Oblivion...T...The Hallow...."

For all but the doctor, this was something they had seen before. Inir looked up as the cold night wind blew through his lungs, he inhaled. The stars above swung at a glacial pace, altogether giving but the smallest fraction of time for rest.

"We lost." The dense words sank as light carried them to the capital.

----​

Within the lower section of the royal castle, Kyro had already had medical professionals waiting for their return. The empty room gave way to the return of the group. The mages rushed to heal their wounds, several mages offered to help the doctor. As they healed Agron's leg to its original state, echoes of clicking upon the marbles stairs descended to their floor. Within formal attire, Script came to archive the events.

"Well done, Agron. Aria, extract Argon's memories."

Completely obvious to his leader's words, and expecting to be reprimanded. Agron could only give a blank stare. As if to answer Agron's question Ararigonterisa finished the thought.

"With this, we have obtained the names, appearance, powers, and future location of the major group of guild members that are intent on fighting us."

With his face only beginning to show his realization Ararigonterisa continued. "Did you think that every guild member was interested in opposing Script's rule? A number of them have dissolved their relationship with the guild after their return from the void. It was important to identify our enemy, as to not needlessly kill people. In future encounters, you will be given specific weapons that counter their abilities. That is why it was important not to lose a member, this was a probing of their powers."

"Although we won't know how useful until later, I am pleased with the result. Well done Argon."
As Kyro began to take his leave he brief made pass with Dr. Lenin. "Doctor, I am sure without you they would have failed. As always I appreciate your work. Now, I have an important meeting at Fairfax. Aria I leave this to you. Farewell." With that Kyro was gone.

Ararigonterisa turned her attention to Agron.

"Now, what to you about your arm?"
 
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Birdsie

The God-Emperor of Mankind
ELSIMORE BELLATHRIEL / / / CYRUS OF TROSTENVALD

At his knees, panting, Cyrus used his staff to force himself to a stand. After taking a drink of Sienna's proferred water - the wizard did not so much as even question her presence, firm in the belief that fate had sent them an ally to make up for the attack, but thanked her with an empty breath.

A single look at Sophia, and he frowned. A girl, one of the two new arrivals, was in the process of giving her medical treatment. At the moment, Cyrus lacked the magic to see forward and divine her chances of survival - her, or those of the Spider Paladin who'd fallen next to her.

They'd slow us down, and we have to move, but I am not yet craven enough to leave behind comrades in arms.

"Anti-hero specialists," he addressed Solomon, the youth who'd arrived to their camp moments before the attack. Although Cyrus had been out for a considerable amount of time, he'd seen how the boy reacted to the infusion of energy. "They must be Script's personal errand soldiers. I believe they are chasing us. An attack right before our rest, to run us down ragged. Accursed traitors. And if we don't move, there'll be more of them soon. Elsimore, are you fine?"

"I'm..." The apprentice considered. "Fine."

"You're lying," Cyrus said, to which Elsimore did not reply. "The last I need from you right now is empty hubris, boy. It's necessary to estimate your own capabilities accurately, otherwise you'll die in an arrogant attempt at reaching past your limits. What is your status?"

"I'm exhausted," Ellis answered, with a bit of bite to it. "But I can keep going."

"We'll need to carry our fallen companions," Cyrus said. "One person for Sophia, and a minimum of two for Jaunt, given his size. We don't wish to injure them any further. Unless any of you have better ideas for how to proceed?"

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ThatWhichShouldBe

Junior Member
Solomon of Abyrdshire
Location: Badlands Campsite
Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie
Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles

"K-King Kyro??? He's... Oh gods." The farmboy looks overwhelmed as he realizes, suddenly, that he's involved himself in Royal Business. As a rebel, no less! He takes a step to brace himself, and the sudden *thud* as his foot hits the ground draws his attention. Were his steps... always that... strong?

Another step, and Solomon can definitely confirm his body seems to have changed... permanently from that magic. To the surprise of others, however, he was adapting to his new body... unnaturally quickly, every step and movement a little more eased.

"I... I should be able to carry Sophia. I feel..."

Solomon closes his eyes, feeling the energy in his body, a sudden wellspring of endurance that made him feel like he could never grow tired. He opens his eyes again, a question in his gaze.

"... A lot stronger now. What was that?"
 

Captain Gabriel

Three Thousand Club
Tamah Babbit
Location:
Baryon Manor Dungeons
With: Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel

“I figured that was probably why I couldn’t get any new ones…” she admitted at his explanation. “If you’re w-willing, though… I’ll accept. Er, Master. I guess.”

Truthfully, the fact she was still this lucid after multiple patrons was a sort of blasphemous miracle. Most of the time, even two patrons was enough to leave a person irreparably broken in the aftermath. In Baryon’s examination, her mind and soul had looked like they had been torn apart and patched back up over and over again before she was left too corrupted. Some of that repair was obviously from each consecutive patron, but even that could not explain the state he had observed. Her personal will seemed the answer. Without knowing it, she had somehow held herself together and stolen a bit of power from each patron, achieving symbiosis.

A perfect cleanse would require magic from sources not currently… aligned with his interests. He could, however, ‘sanitize’ her enough to safely enter himself and perhaps mold her mutant energy into his own.

Even better, it would ensure she would never be capable of accepting another patron.
Lord Gabriel Baryon
Location:
Baryon Manor Dungeons
With: Churl Churl

TRIGGER WARNING - Somewhat detailed descriptions of blood and blood flowing.

"Don't call me master," Baryon said, placing a hand on Tamah's shoulder, rubbing it comfortably. He hoped to create somewhat of a bond with the girl, to deepen their patronic relationship once the ritual was done. "You will learn from me, and I will learn just as much from you. Only address me as your superior on the field."

"The ritual will take a few hours to prepare. Watch and observe," he said.

As he gathered the necessary materials, he pondered. The girl was powerful, certainly more than most warlocks he'd ever come across in his thousand-year lifespan - the most powerful ones had either ascended to eldritchood, subsumed their patrons (something doable only with external help), or turned to other additional sources of power. However, Tamah was... truly something else. Touched and tainted by so many patrons, yet she'd survived with her individuality and soul intact. Corrupted beyond repair by ordinary men, but Baryon was nor ordinary nor a man.

As such, it would be relatively easy work to cleanse her - not by actually purifying her, but by fighting off the influence of other patrons. By replacing it utterly, inondating her soul with his own essence and removing every little bit of pathetic eldritch patron that dared refuse a being with such potential and with such willpower. He would not be so stupid - she was to be nurtured, properly bent into the right direction, for the right intents.

She had the potential to surpass even him as he is right now, in time. Of course, he didn't plan to be mortal by that time.

Once the ritual was ready, Baryon placed her in the middle of the ritual circle, etched into the stone and filled with a blue liquid with red particles suspended in it. "Don't move from there, don't question anything once the chanting begins. Cast all doubt from your mind. Magic is relative, and appearances are important. Symbols, even more so. Consider this your very first lesson."

He sighed deeply and turned towards the darkness of the room.

"Come hither," Baryon pronounced, spreading his arms out to the sides. Several figures walked forth, apparently emerging from the various shadows around them. They were all pale, had pointy teeth and red eyes, wore robes or cerimonial sets of armor... vampires, just like he was. "My children."

They all knelt down, each on equidistant points on the circle's circumference. After a single gesture from Baryon, the vampires began chanting. Their voices were deep, they vibrated at several frequencies at once, and made the very room thick with sound. If Tamah paid attention, she could probably notice and feel how dense with magic the room was becoming. A magic familiar, yet alien and mysterious at the same time.

One of the vampires - one in robes different from the others - raised his head and brought his hands up, as if in prayer.

"We reach out to you, Progenitor of Blood," the Blood Priest said, his voice quiet yet louder than the droning chant of the others. "We reach out with a plea."

Baryon wasted no time in responding. "The Progenitor beckons your plea."

"Us mere insects cower in your presence," the Priest said, lowering his head once more as his lord regarded him with a cold, dead-eyed glance. "We wish to offer a sacrifice, and ascend one of our own to a fraction of your dark glory, of your unholy might."

Baryon gave him a curt nod. "The Progenitor accepts your plea. She will be welcomed."

The Priest raised his head and hands once more. "It shall be so."

The chanting vampires sat around the circle took out ornamental knives, held their wrists over the circle, and on the Priest's mark, dug into their flesh with ferocity, carving the blade into their wrist deep enough to send a gushing torrent of blood out onto the ground, and into the etchings in the floor. A red glow began filling the room, and a thick smell of rust and wet metal reached Tamah's nostrils.

The pouring blood began swirling, circulating within the ritual circle and merging with the liquid already in it. It moved and flowed too quickly, as if dense like water, and converged in the center, at Tamah's feet. One after the other, the vampires began dropping to the ground, lifeless, their wrists still bleeding - the precious life ichor being pulled out of their body and into the ritual.

"Eight lives, willingly given," the Priest said. His hands were still up, but his fingers were moving subtly, in rhythm with the blood's flows. The chanting was still going, despite the chanters being dead. The glow became more intense, as the liquid pooling at Tamah's feet began traveling up her legs. Baryon shot her a glare when she saw she was about to squirm.

"One soul, unwillingly given," the Priest said. He pulled out a glass jar, containing a fist-sized blue wisp of fire. He opened the jar and allowed the wisp to enter the circle. Tendrils of red emerged from the glowing circle and stabbed through the soul, consuming it in seconds.

"One oath, willingly taken," the Priest said. He turned to Tamah. "Repeat after me."

"I swear on my blood,
as I swear on my life,
and as I swear on my soul.
With them, I serve the Progenitor,
through them, I embrace him,
with them, I join him.
Give me power to crush my enemies,
give me power to seek my answers,
give me power to discover my secrets.
Power, the ultimate tool of war.
Power, the ultimate tool of peace.
Power, the ultimate tool of life and death.
Progenitor, I bid myself yours,
right now,
unto death,
and forever beyond."

Baryon extended his demonic arm, and reached out to Tamah, wordlessly.
 

Hanarei

Rawr-ness
Claire Motoye

mCQaEXi.png

Claire was rather nervious holding onto Sophia. The girl suddenly shifting her attention over as the strangely dressed Sasha darted over. The girl looking on seeming to lean that the woman knew more then she did. She moved to the side keeping nearby as she stood ready to what she asked. She watched as she did strange compressions using her hands blinking at the act. None the less she watched observing as best she could. As she pulled away Claire repeated the gestures to the best of her ability, giving chest compressions using her hands in the way Sasha showed her while making sure as to not lose control over her magic... or more particularly keeping it from activating.

Claire caught from the corner of her eye as she pulled out a strange very uncomfortable looking object with some strange liquid and a very thin pointy tip like some extremely thing rapier blade on it. Her bewilderment only was made worst when Jaunt seemed to come to her add as well watching as the spider seemed to give her a touch before becoming limp himself making Claire all the more concerned. Hopefully all this weird stuff worked. She wasn't in the least bit aware what it all was, all effectively being 'magic' to her eyes far beyond her capability to fully understand.

The young knight seemed to ease her gestures as it seemed they were unnecessary, removing her hands gasping a bit as she felt rather weak. So much effort being expended for doing things that everyone else just naturally could interact with without worry. A rather hindrance in her mind though perhaps a glass half empty view given how it had helped her earlier in battle... even if it was more so the fact she had ignored all the barriers and just ran around like a chicken with her head cut off most the time. She looked curiously to the strange Solomon as she wasn't sure exactly what to say, before turning her head to Jaunt.

"I... I could probably... carry him without too much effort myself... I think..." She spoke pausing for a second in thought.

Spiders aren't suppose to get that big normally are they?

"The stuff he is carrying... I'm not quite as sure about... someone might need to carry that stuff... I mean... is it reasonable that would exist without weird magical stuff? I... I could try and see first... if it helps?" She spoke more so to herself uncertain. Her magic was strange after all how it worked, and the fact she wasn't all that knowledgeable about many things out there meant she had that many more gaps what her magic would and would not effect. A magic fire she even knew was magic and wouldn't hurt her was still scary to even willingly touch knowing it was harmless to her just given the fact she knew a traditionally created fire would burn her.


lil_kreen lil_kreen Alteras Alteras Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel Birdsie Birdsie June Verles June Verles ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe
 

June Verles

Depression? Never heard of her.
Dr. Lenin D. Arwin

Location: Royal Castle Interactions: Swire Swire


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As the void reformed him at the behest of their team teleporter the Doctor would turn around to look at the rest of the Black Ops team and he had to come to terms with the overbearing reality of his position of perfection. There no longer was a point to anything in this life, something he struggled with but had never discussed with anyone. It might have been his intellect that held all of the accumulated knowledge that only once in a century academic prodigies could dream about forcing him by principle in an objective and rather cynical personal view of himself.

And it was true, Lenin didn't lose like the rest of the black ops team. Being ripped apart arm by arm, kicked with the force of a freight train and literally being atomised wasn't even an inconvenience to him at this point. He had won it all and couldn't win or gain any more personal victories. He had no need to really make his body feel anything in the same way he didn't need to breathe or eat to exist he just kept a tight overbearing grip over those now unnecessary aspects of life to give his surface psyche the impression of joy, because there isn't need for of it in perfection. Truthfully, he was jealous of those with still the room to improve themselves, who could still experience hardship as existential as it might sound for the seemingly care-free invulnerable immortal.

But he had also made the realisation that life wasn't quite as bleak. He could still receive some sort of true satisfaction vicariously through others, though validity of that emotion was up to interpretation Lenin loved to see how others struggled through the death inducing crawl through life was for others, their euphoric peaks and their devastating valleys all from his proverbial permanently fuelled plane with zero turbulences. So he didn't mind if he was the catalyst of those events in people's lives, he was perfectly happy being the irredeemable evil villain the guild had to combat or clever doctor who helped allies maintain their life work as it came under pressure.

Just as long as he could enjoy being part of it.

So the doctor did what he did best, grabbing at the middle of his scalp, he would literally split himself like string cheese down the centre multiplying himself through some cursed process of mitosis but keeping a connection at the heel. Doing this one more time he would have ended with a quartet of himself conjoined by a long flesh cable that probably had the purpose of maintaining the existence of his other instances.

The first Dr. would make his way to Agron as he just saw him take this awful defeat and use it as fuel to compound upon himself, forging his unsurmountable spirit by burning away the stump where his arm could potentially be reattached or regrown in some way as a proof of his conviction. Lenin wouldn't do anything but solemnly patch up his leg with bandages and a splint, Baron the giant who attempted to protect and take care of his squad would be also taken care of by the Doctor as he meticulously treated and disinfected all of his many cuts and bruises.

Inir would receive no special treatment but instead have receive simple help with the supplies and fuelling the long range teleporter totem, Lenin was fully aware that he could do this all of his own but as the least vocal and often the last one standing in such a situation he assumed Inir would appreciate the gesture.

Syi, the child who grew up too fast plagued by the powers of the void that were beyond his understanding voluntarily subjecting himself to insanity to provide his team the very much needed support would have the Doctor kneel next to them, grabbing their head as Lenin's pointer penetrated painlessly and like through the surface of water through his skin and skull to reach his brain. Of course with such a imposing power his mere human mind would be overpowered, but Lenin could take advantage of the same weakness to force Syi into a different spot mentally. He would dig through his mind and force his conscious and subconscious into memories of comfort and peace.



Back in the castle the instances would recombine into one being and Lenin would allow the mages and emergency help to do their work as this was their purpose in this story, just as he turned around to face the monarch and his assistant. He had a distaste for that being that followed the King, doing his bidding as he wished. She was nothing more to him than a rule of reality, a phenomena with no real choice that exists only to interact with beings who had it.

He knew that this relationship would probably only backfire on Kyro in one way or another but he was curious in what that would look like, so he made an effort to tolerate it's existence. Simply giving him a smile as he headed off and turning as the question of an arm was made to Agron.

"Captain, I have an offer for you. I must worn you however, that what I am about to potentially give you will probably cause you pain and suffering in return for nothing but power. It's abuse will result in your agonising death." He spelt it out clearly for him as a matter of fact, reaching into his jacket pocket and revealed one stand of white hair.

"The choice is yours." Lenin said with a smile.
 

Churl

Member
Lord Gabriel Baryon
Location:
Baryon Manor Dungeons
With: Churl Churl

TRIGGER WARNING - Somewhat detailed descriptions of blood and blood flowing.

"Don't call me master," Baryon said, placing a hand on Tamah's shoulder, rubbing it comfortably. He hoped to create somewhat of a bond with the girl, to deepen their patronic relationship once the ritual was done. "You will learn from me, and I will learn just as much from you. Only address me as your superior on the field."

"The ritual will take a few hours to prepare. Watch and observe," he said.

As he gathered the necessary materials, he pondered. The girl was powerful, certainly more than most warlocks he'd ever come across in his thousand-year lifespan - the most powerful ones had either ascended to eldritchood, subsumed their patrons (something doable only with external help), or turned to other additional sources of power. However, Tamah was... truly something else. Touched and tainted by so many patrons, yet she'd survived with her individuality and soul intact. Corrupted beyond repair by ordinary men, but Baryon was nor ordinary nor a man.

As such, it would be relatively easy work to cleanse her - not by actually purifying her, but by fighting off the influence of other patrons. By replacing it utterly, inondating her soul with his own essence and removing every little bit of pathetic eldritch patron that dared refuse a being with such potential and with such willpower. He would not be so stupid - she was to be nurtured, properly bent into the right direction, for the right intents.

She had the potential to surpass even him as he is right now, in time. Of course, he didn't plan to be mortal by that time.

Once the ritual was ready, Baryon placed her in the middle of the ritual circle, etched into the stone and filled with a blue liquid with red particles suspended in it. "Don't move from there, don't question anything once the chanting begins. Cast all doubt from your mind. Magic is relative, and appearances are important. Symbols, even more so. Consider this your very first lesson."

He sighed deeply and turned towards the darkness of the room.

"Come hither," Baryon pronounced, spreading his arms out to the sides. Several figures walked forth, apparently emerging from the various shadows around them. They were all pale, had pointy teeth and red eyes, wore robes or cerimonial sets of armor... vampires, just like he was. "My children."

They all knelt down, each on equidistant points on the circle's circumference. After a single gesture from Baryon, the vampires began chanting. Their voices were deep, they vibrated at several frequencies at once, and made the very room thick with sound. If Tamah paid attention, she could probably notice and feel how dense with magic the room was becoming. A magic familiar, yet alien and mysterious at the same time.

One of the vampires - one in robes different from the others - raised his head and brought his hands up, as if in prayer.

"We reach out to you, Progenitor of Blood," the Blood Priest said, his voice quiet yet louder than the droning chant of the others. "We reach out with a plea."

Baryon wasted no time in responding. "The Progenitor beckons your plea."

"Us mere insects cower in your presence," the Priest said, lowering his head once more as his lord regarded him with a cold, dead-eyed glance. "We wish to offer a sacrifice, and ascend one of our own to a fraction of your dark glory, of your unholy might."

Baryon gave him a curt nod. "The Progenitor accepts your plea. She will be welcomed."

The Priest raised his head and hands once more. "It shall be so."

The chanting vampires sat around the circle took out ornamental knives, held their wrists over the circle, and on the Priest's mark, dug into their flesh with ferocity, carving the blade into their wrist deep enough to send a gushing torrent of blood out onto the ground, and into the etchings in the floor. A red glow began filling the room, and a thick smell of rust and wet metal reached Tamah's nostrils.

The pouring blood began swirling, circulating within the ritual circle and merging with the liquid already in it. It moved and flowed too quickly, as if dense like water, and converged in the center, at Tamah's feet. One after the other, the vampires began dropping to the ground, lifeless, their wrists still bleeding - the precious life ichor being pulled out of their body and into the ritual.

"Eight lives, willingly given," the Priest said. His hands were still up, but his fingers were moving subtly, in rhythm with the blood's flows. The chanting was still going, despite the chanters being dead. The glow became more intense, as the liquid pooling at Tamah's feet began traveling up her legs. Baryon shot her a glare when she saw she was about to squirm.

"One soul, unwillingly given," the Priest said. He pulled out a glass jar, containing a fist-sized blue wisp of fire. He opened the jar and allowed the wisp to enter the circle. Tendrils of red emerged from the glowing circle and stabbed through the soul, consuming it in seconds.

"One oath, willingly taken," the Priest said. He turned to Tamah. "Repeat after me."

"I swear on my blood,
as I swear on my life,
and as I swear on my soul.
With them, I serve the Progenitor,
through them, I embrace him,
with them, I join him.
Give me power to crush my enemies,
give me power to seek my answers,
give me power to discover my secrets.
Power, the ultimate tool of war.
Power, the ultimate tool of peace.
Power, the ultimate tool of life and death.
Progenitor, I bid myself yours,
right now,
unto death,
and forever beyond."

Baryon extended his demonic arm, and reached out to Tamah, wordlessly.
Tamah Babbit
Location:
Baryon Manor Dungeons
With: Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel

“T-Teacher, then,” she said as Baryon reprimanded her use of ‘master’. “No, wait… I like Professor.”

She watched with grim fascination as the ritual was slowly prepared, though not with the curiosity of a scholar. More the wonder of an audience, removed from the scene and looking in. Even if she wasn’t appearing to calculate or speculate on anything, the Lord could still see her paying attention and soaking in every detail.

As the first of his sacrifices were made, she flinched, and he could see her eyes wide, her body shaking with fear- no. No, on closer inspection that was excitement. Not pleasure at their deaths, but fascination at his cruelty. He was likely filling the role of the ‘villain’ expertly in her eyes.

When she spoke, there was no stutter.

"I swear on my blood,”
It’s just a liquid, after all
“as I swear on my life,”
With as little value as it has
“and as I swear on my soul.”
Or what little I have left
“With them, I serve the Progenitor,”
A darkest heart
“through them, I embrace him,”
To show me the path of evil
“with them, I join him.”
That we may both be struck down
“Give me power to crush my enemies,”
Though those that oppose me aren’t my foes
“give me power to seek my answers,”
Show me the glorious Good that will rise
“give me power to discover my secrets.”
Unearth what little Good a waste like me is capable of
“Power, the ultimate tool of war.”
A conflict between Good and evil
“Power, the ultimate tool of peace.”
The peace that will reign after my defeat
“Power, the ultimate tool of life and death.”
And belongs in the hands of the Guild
“Progenitor, I bid myself yours,”
And I do
“right now,
unto death,”
May it be a glorious one for you
“and forever beyond."
And may mine be even a tenth as much.

As she clasped at his hand, cursed flesh met that as cool as a corpse. Somewhere, somewhen, two clocks began to tick in synchronicity, and their own hands turned. Towards apotheosis, or to ruin? It was the same direction regardless.

For better or worse, they now shared a destiny.
 

Alteras

The Sleepy One
Administrator
Supporter
Averza Reyes
LOCATION Remnants of Camp
INTERACTIONS Jaunt, Sophia, Claire, Solomon, Ellis, Cyrus, Sasha, Sienna
Averza gazed towards the spot where the assailants fled through with a glare. With a movements laced with disappointment and frustration, she raised her sword and flicked the fresh blood off of it before returning it to her side. "Goddammit" she muttered beneath her breath before relaxing her stance back into a facsimile of her usual uncaring stance.

Averza turned her head just as more newcomers came to what was left of the battle. Seeing as they immediately attended to Sophia and one of them was familiar with the master-apprentice pair, she didn't try to take any aggression with them. Rather, even the farmboy with stupid magic strength aided them in the fight. Listening to the various conversations happening, she gritted her teeth and moved forward. Physically, she was fine, but due to the sudden surge of magic as well as casting a spell she would normally have little control over, she was mentally fatigued. The assailants escaping after inflicting such damage on her comrades only added to her mental stress. Regardless, she tried her best to maintain a cool head. She decided to try to be satisfied with just having everyone survive, but the more she tried, the more her thoughts churned back to frustration.

She moved to the side of the newcomer girl and Claire, who were treating Sophia. Taking a closer look at her, it looks like her condition is stabilizing. "If it's getting air into her lungs, I can do that with magic." Stopping the two, she moved her hand to Sophia's face and slowly let wind move in and out of her body while forcing the air to expand and compress against her chest. "Air is fine and all, but what she needs most is blood and time, and we won't be getting that until we move out from here. Boy with the stupid strength, snap out of it and come lift her up. I'll keep my wind spell going, just hold her in princess carry or something. And keep her mouth open."
ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Silver Wolf Silver Wolf

Having said that, she turned to look at Claire and the newcomer girl who was aiding them. "Claire, take care of the big guy. I can carry his equipment while I maintain the spell." She then stood up, placed her hand on her chest and bowed forward ever so slightly. "Thank you, but we must move now. As you can see we're in no position to fight. Can I ask you and Lady Sienna to safeguard us? As Lord Cyrus said, we should be moving forward if we want to reach safety."
Hanarei Hanarei lil_kreen lil_kreen June Verles June Verles Noble Scion Noble Scion Birdsie Birdsie

 
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Churl

Member
(Collaboration written with help from Captain Gabriel Captain Gabriel )

Tamah Babbit

Location:
Baryon Manor Dungeons- ???

Shaking Baryon’s hand, something else occurred. Though her body remained in the dungeons, standing with the vampire lord, Tamah’s mind, her soul, her very being was suddenly somewhere else.

Somewhere dark.

With every vampire she had met so far, Baryon, his servants, his guards, there was something that she had not realized or put into thought until this moment. There was something behind their eyes, something that wasn’t seen so much as felt. A presence. And now she was facing that presence head on, without the benefit of a blood-sucking walking corpse to act as a buffer between her and it.

She before a void that devoured all light, matter, presence. The only color in the blackness was the swirling mass of dark-red ichor at its core. It was a color born to spite light and its absence, not out of its reflection. The voice she heard did not speak to her from the thing ahead, it crept upon her. So subtle she didn’t immediately realize the voice was coming from the tingling within herself. It was her blood. The voice was speaking to her from the vibrations of her own blood.

TrAiToR.

Tamah stared into the vortex, taken aback.

TrAiToR. YoU SeEk To HaRm My ChIlDrEn?

She didn’t stutter or even bother raising her voice as she answered.

“How can I betray what I never stood for?”

A TrAiToR AnD A LiAr, ToO.

The blood inside her did not just vibrate this time. It seemed to boil, and bubble within her. It erupted from her eyes, her nails, her pores as she gave a gurgle of fear and pain. And without warning she was back to normal. As if it had not happened.

DoN’t BaCk-TaLk. YoU ArE A MeRe FrAcTiOn Of A ReD BlOoD CeLl tO mE.

Catching her breath, Tamah glared at the Progenitor of Baryon’s brood.

“You… accuse me, and then won’t even let me defend myself? Who do you think you are?”

Her blood vibrated again without words, and though she tensed for another explosion she realized this whisper was a hum. A noise of… approval?

SpEaK.

Tamah clenched her fists. “I have not once lied about who I am or- or what I stand for. It’s others that deceive themselves about who I am, but I’m honest. I want the villains strong, the heroes stronger, and Good to ultimately prevail.”

The whisper in her blood became a laugh. A surprisingly human sound, from something so horribly alien.

GoOd DoEsN’t ExIsT. NeItHeR DoEs EvIl.

“If Evil doesn’t exist, what am I speaking to?”

Another laugh.

No EvIl. No GoOd. ThE OnLy CoNsTaNt Is PoWeR. ThErE ArE ThE PoWeRfUl AnD ThE WeAk. If YoU ArE HeRe, ThAt MeAnS SoMeOnE ThInKs YoU ArE WoRtHy Of My GiFtS.

Tamah hesitated. Those words were the first thing that had truly confounded her in a scenario that otherwise should have long driven a person to a maddened panic.

“I’m…powerful? Me?”

YeS, TaMaH.

The vortex churns, and staring into it she sees her life.

She sees herself being whipped to the point she cannot move without screaming her throat bloody. She will be bedridden for months, she remembers. Despite the pain, she remembers these times fondly. They were the only way she got a break from work, and learned to read the stories of heroes. She was 9, the first time.

She sees herself standing before the landowner, her family and fellow peasants having appointed her the one to take responsibility for the bad harvest. It’s not her fault, of course. It’s no one’s, it was just a natural drought. But someone needs to pay the price, and the community chose her because she’s a young woman, so they’ll go easy on her and she won’t get her throat cut like if they sent one of the boys forward. Knowing the beating to come, the bones not yet even healed from last time, the special knife she knows is just for her, she wishes she was the one just getting her throat cut. She’s 15.

Next she sees herself freed. Liberated by the Guild, but not able to emulate her heroes. The beast she tried to slay has raked its claws through her chest, and she can only watch with disappointment, not even grief as it leaves her helpless on the ground to tear the village apart. She can never be one of the Heroes, she’s not a champion like them.

She sees herself over and over, making pacts to have new magic forced into her. The things in the dark speak to her. Some whisper, some yell, some babble or scream. She’s stopped listening to what it was they were trying to say, and just went through the motions. She’s a tool, passed from Patron to Patron to wreak havoc and hope a Hero comes to stop her. Some do, but not the Guild. They are gone, now. The Patrons are driven out, or sometimes they just leave. They try to take a piece of her with them, but she takes a sliver from them as well. Over and over and over. She doesn’t even remember a third of their names, that is how little these supposed gods or devils truly mean to her.

Do YoU KnOw Of AnY OtHeR PeRsOn On MeLiCaU AbLe To SuRvIvE ThE ToUcH Of HuNdReDs Of ElDrItCh PaTrOnS? Or EvEn On AlL Of AlHeRiA?

She shook her head. “I don’t know much of anything,” she answered honestly.

ThAt WiLl ChAnGe, WiTh My HeLp.

“Am I serving you… the Lord… or the King?”

EvErYoNe SeRvEs Me, In TiMe. YoUr LoRd Is My VeSsEl. BuT FiRsT, ShOw Me YoU’rE WoRtHy, TaMaH. ShOw Me YoUr PoWeR.

Tamah considered this. Was she… really as strong as all that? Obviously, she wasn’t as strong as the Heroes. But maybe… she wasn’t just a tool for the villains. Maybe she was strong enough to be a worthy challenge herself?

“…I guess that… I could take center stage. If that’s where the script is leading me.”

ThEn ShOw Me.

The thing in the vortex… moved. And the fight began. It wasn’t like any fight she had ever experienced before, the Progenitor was not an opponent she could attack. Tamah was barely comprehending that it was attacking her. So she let go of her mind. She fought without reason or awareness. She didn’t know how long she held out for. Seconds? Centuries? It was playing with her, a cat batting with prey instead of striking it down. But she was growing stronger, more vicious. Numbly, she was aware It had given her its power as she fought. As she lashed out with her summoned tendrils, she had summoned wings as well. She was overcome with a hunger not of the stomach but the being, and she tore into her opponent with relish to sate it. She would disappear, leaving a copy of herself formed of the blood she had spilled over her life, and that copy would break apart into beasts made of that same carnage when struck.

She was burning, but this time it was full of life. A rush she had never felt before, for once she knew with certainty that in this moment she was alive. She did not tire. She did not win. When Tamah finally stopped fighting, it was simply with the dim awareness her judgement had ended. And despite her intentions, her beliefs, her loyalties, the Progenitor had looked into her. It had not found her wanting.

It was time to wake up from the dream, she knew. To do her duty, at her Lord’s side. As she drifted back into reality, she heard the Progenitor one last time.

PoWeR Is WhAt MaTtErS. ReMeMbEr ThAt. AlWaYs.

And then she was back. Tamah Babbit. Warlock. Emissary of the Vampire Progenitor’s will.
 
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