Fantasy Rifts [IC][Closed]

[Chaos Gallant]

“Mmph- uck!” Terrence grunted in pain as he felt the soldier’s spear dig into his right thigh. “Fine then, allow me to award your impatience!” He roared, kicking his free leg into the knight's gut in order to pull his ax free of the armor. He grabbed the soldier's spear in place and swung his ax towards the man.

 

[Oreo Cookie]

Vera grimaced as she narrowly deflected what could've been a grievous blow, parried lethality reverberating through her blade and sending a jolt up her arm. Fuckin' hells. Her sword grip tightened as she brought her weapon forward in a retaliatory thrust, simmering anger guiding her attempt to gut the knight as he near-did her.

 

[Breadman]

"Shut up." Fraskia responded to the ranting zealot, not tearing her eyes away from the other oponents she has to face. The rune knight swung again trying to take the injured one out permanently.

 

[Beann]

Aelestra punched.

Spoiler: jk

Aelestra watched without a hint of remorse as the soldier she had struck suffocated to death right at her feet. She hadn’t intended to deliver such an agonizing death but she also didn’t intend to fight in the first place. For a moment, she watched his face turn from a deep shade of red to purple, allowing a small window of opportunity for another soldier to strike at her. She grunted in pain as she felt a burning sensation against her arm, blood slowly trickling down from the open wound. Aelestra offered the soldier a brief look of annoyance, one that was conveyed with furrowed brows before she launched herself at him, intending to strike at his throat as she had done to his fallen comrade.

 

[joshuadim]

Battle of the Abandoned Church - Turn 5


​

---

ALLY ROLLS
Arnas - 1; Critical Failure! Counterattack Roll 1d4 = 4. Arnas takes 4 damage. Arnas HP = 12.
Ser Faralt - 8; 4 damage to Agathe. Agathe HP = 44.
Edoardo - 3; Miss.
Terrence - 10; Crit Roll 1d6 = 3. 7 damage (4+3) to Knight-Zealot #2. Knight-Zealot #2 is dead!
Vera - 10; Crit Roll 1d6 = 6. 10 damage (4+6) to Knight-Zealot #3. Knight-Zealot #3 is dead!
Fraskia - 6; 4 damage to Inquisition Soldier #5. Inquisition Soldier #5 HP = 7.
Aelestra - 8; 4 damage to Inquisition soldier #4. Inquisition Soldier #4 HP = 11.

ENEMY ROLLS
Agathe - 10; Crit Roll 1d6= 4. Arnas takes 8 damage. Arnas HP = 4. Counterattack Roll 1d5 = 5. Arnas deals 8 damage to Agathe. Agathe HP = 36.
Knight-Zealot #1 - 3; Misses Edoardo.
Soldier #2 - 5; Misses Fraskia.
Soldier #3 - 6; Edoardo takes 2 (4-2, Hardened Hide) damage. Edoardo HP = 20.
Soldier #4 - 5 (6-1, Monk Evasion); Misses Aelestra.
Soldier #5 - 10; Crit Roll 1d6 = 3. Fraskia takes 7 (4+3) damage. Fraskia HP = 15.
Soldier #6 - 3; Misses Terrence.​

---

By now, the flames had engulfed a number of buildings in the area in their embrace. Black columns choked the sky and made the air heavier for those fighting in front of the church, smothering everyone in shroud of darkness where the moon and stars above were no longer visible. A chaotic situation was made all the more chaotic as the environment itself became hostile for all parties involved, and also provided ample opportunity for the defenders. Terrence swung out with a vicious strike of his axe, intent of carving a path through the spear-bearer that had impaled him prior. This forced the man back from his original plan of following up with another strike, withdrawing from the immediate field; this in turn, made Terrence's axe flow around in the air until it lodged itself into the knight that he had been fighting all along. With a pitiful gurgle, the man coughed up blood as he weakly pulled up an arm towards his neck before collapsing.

Vera would also have the same luck as she utilized the opening she had received from blocking the previous strike meant to gut her. Finding a gap in between his plate armour, her steel sank as a stone would in a deep lake and effortlessly cut through his flesh until it had practically burst out from the other end. The man grabbed at the blade in a futile manner, but was kicked back by Vera and left to die as his wound was too grievous for even the greatest of healers to mend. He writhed on the floor for a moment before quickly coming to a still, drawing his last breath on this earth.

Fraskia would trade blows with the soldier she had struck at before, having dodged another strike from his compatriot by sidestepped it gracefully. Keeping with her momentum she barrelled forward and slashed horizontally at the man's midsection. Just underneath her strike was the man's own steel as he swung out with a yell, and the two impact one another almost simultaneously. Fraskia's blow would strike another large gash into her opponent, leaving him to stumble back; but she too also stumbled as he had broken two ribs after having bore the brunt of the impact that connected into her side.

Aelestra struck out at the man who had sworn to avenge his fallen comrade, who charged at her with reckless abandon with the intent of using his greater mass to overwhelm her. However, her nimble nature allowed her to use his movement against his as her arm snaked through his defences and made its way towards his face. With a fast strike, she punched and broke his nose and forced the man back with a cry as he clutched at his face. Blood poured out from his nostrils as the broken cartilage made a mess of what used to be a well-defined visage. Gritting his teeth, he managed to shoot a glare out towards the monk and growled at her with rage.

Agathe and Arnas wrestled with their blades locked, though it was obvious that the latter was on worse footing and strength; the young mercenary was rapidly losing his ability to fight properly as he knees buckled from the immense pressure of being pushed down upon. It was weakness that, like a shark in bloodied waters, Agathe took advantage of as she twirled their blades about and disarmed Arnas with an audible clang. His blade fell to the steps nearby, much to his surprise, and was then met with a slash to his belly that would have split him open were it not for the leather jerkin he wore under his own armor. Still, her blade cut deeply into him as he coughed up more blood. An instinctual flash of fear coursed through his body as he wondered whether or not this was his end.

His breathing slowed, and his eyes narrowed to fight through the pain. His body wanted to buckle down onto his hands and knees, curl up into a ball on the ground and lie in a pool of his own blood. But something else took root in his mind's eye as he felt the vibrations in the air; steel sang, embers crackled, and he could hear the heaving breathing of his vicious would-be killer above him. He also saw, in that moment, her movement left something to be desired. Through her boundless arrogance, having already believed she had won this bout against her prey, he saw an opening. He might not have had his sword at the moment, but he did have his dagger still. Carried through the reflexes of his muscles, his body committed to the action without him even commanding it to and was met with a howl of pain.

His dagger had cut into her face, carving a deep gash from her cheek all the way to her forehead - only narrowly missing her eye - and forcing her to clutch at what she had prized once before. Now, it had been defiled with the strike of an arrogant, dying boy. She had no time to commit to her vengeance as Ser Faralt and Edoardo both rushed to Arnas' aid, seeking to deliver unto her more blows that she rightfully deserved. Edoardo missed, as in her now heightened state she scrambled out of the way with a low dash while desperately trying to stem the bleeding that now flooded her face. Her right eye was effectively blinded because of it now, and this blind spot left her open to Ser Faralt strike from behind as he carved a gash into her back. Still she remained standing, but now she had lost the confidence and composure that she previously wore as a mask only to be replaced with that of a vicious wild animal.

"MY FACE!!! You... you little fuck!" Agathe spat out, her uncovered eye staring out to the bleeding young man with hate that could drown the world.

But before more could be done, the fires that raged finally broke up the battle as the two sides retreated to their respective areas once more. The zealots had lost three good men, but the group they faced was not faring much better. Wounds were piling up, and worse still the air grew more and more difficult to breathe. Agathe had to be restrained by two of her men as she tried desperately to lash out, not realizing she herself was being saved by her compatriots in that moment. Arnas in the meantime struggled to stay conscious as he coughed up more blood, his teeth now stained by them, as he gripped at his belly in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

Aksh vo'sovoth tijn.

What? Arnas was confused. A voice pierced into his mind unlike any he had heard before. He wondered if blood loss had made him go mad as he felt a hand press on his his shoulder and another on his wound. Ser Faralt was trying to stem the bleeding as the fires grew heavier and more intense around them. By now the Zealots had retreated fully and were practically dragging Agathe away kicking and screaming. "I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH IF I MUST! DO YOU HEAR ME BOY!?" the Inquisitor's howls marked a vengeful promise that she fully intended to keep. But on this day she would be denied her bounty as a building collapsing between her and the group that had harried her from her quarry, and in turn she and her fellows disappeared from sight at last. Ser Broz had by now left the confines of the church as the temporary sanctuary for the baron and his daughter were no longer safe.

"We must find a way out!" the Justicar shouted, looking around was grave worry upon his face. The flames grew ever closer upon them, threatening to swallow them in an urban furnace that would surely boil them alive. But if there had been a path before, it seemed as though it was denied to them now given how long the fighting had taken. But then, to everyone's vision, the space around them began to vibrate - and then distort - as though it were glass in a singing house. Their surroundings began to distort as though they were in a lens, shaped by its intensity and curvature like on a telescope, as an imperceptible sphere took root around them. The chaotic sounds of the city burning down as it had before grew more warped until, at last, it became nothing.

So too had their surroundings changed to a grassy field outside the city itself, the fires illuminating the sky in the distance as testament to the consuming monster that raged within its walls. They were just outside where the court scholars were camped, and were looking on in awe at the awesome display of power that had just been committed. The Guardian loomed near the group with extended palms, relaxing as his work winded down at last. He quickly saw Arnas' condition and summoned a stream of energy to his hands that he then - after striding over to the young man - placed over his belly.

"What happened in there?" the sorcerer asked bluntly, his focus mostly upon healing the one he had charged to carry his token.

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Breadman]

"We met with the inquisition." Fraskia gave a curt answer to the guardian. She didn't like being teleported without warning, but given how they were ready to burn alive just moments before, she wouldn't complain. "An Agathe, Dumont. Very talkative and" She looked at the wound Arnas had sustained "...vicious."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Edoardo's wicked teeth bit only the Leskau's flame-torn air, its sky haunted by the energies of the Rift and the black smoke palls scraping up to the sky like svelte fingers knifing at the sky's edge. Her reflexes were as heightened as her zealotry, throwing herself low to avoid his snatching jaw. However, their efforts had not gone unrewarded. Arnas' dagger had sheared through her cheek, splitting a deep line up Agathe's features, drawing blood in a thick rivulet down her haughty mien. Ser Faralt rushed, sword swinging high to low. The blade barely paused as it bit, then sliced down Agathe's back, describing an arc of blood that stained the scorched grass.

Edoardo spun in time to see the zealot, her blonde hair wild and her apparel tattered, dragged off by her followers. Blood-stained, front and back. Her howls overpowered the flames' roar, the air alive with the screeching throat of a madwoman. Edoardo stopped, forcing himself to remain by his allies side as the sea of flames encroached around them, cutting them off from salvation. His breathing quickened, pulse raced, mind trembling. He knew that he was one focused thought away from panic, not daring to pause and consider options.

Then reality began to bend, his vision warped as the surroundings stretched and twisted around him, he experienced a gut-wrenching sense of dislocation. He shut his eyes, bracing for an impact to lift him from his feet. He felt buildings come crashing apart, wood splintering, breaking, buckling under their own weight. A force pulled on him. Then in the darkness, his hands clenched, and suddenly, he tasted the pleasant aroma of grass, a smooth breeze replacing the infernal heat that surrounded them.

His eyes started open, though he could not believe what was before him. Limbs loosened, feeling the ache of exertion spread through out his body, and the pain of fresh wounds settle on his mind.

Amber eyes fixed on the Guardian. Edoardo nodded once. "Aye, tis what Fraskia said. An Agathe Dumont from the Inquisition had been tracking undead activity and had discerned Faralt's existence through hearsay of a defeated foe of ours." Edoardo paused, marshaling strength to breathe, loathing the heat as all his kind did. "I reckon we had not seen the last of her or her ilk, especially after what we had just done in her eyes."

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Terrence’s heavy breathing slowed when he noticed the knight's body grow limp from his blow. He'd just turned to face his next foe, the sounds of battle and chaos all around, when he'd felt the distortion. Before he realized it, they were back outside the accursed town, inside the scholars’ camp.

Then the real pain his adrenaline had been hiding hit him. The orc sat down on the ground, wincing with every little move. He figured the rest of the party would more than ept enough to tell the guardian about the newly developed situation, deciding instead to start tending to his wounds.

 

[joshuadim]

When Fraskia and Edoardo both gave their recounts of what had occurred, the Guardian remained silent and he continued tending to Arnas to stem the bleeding. The news of the Cleansing Flame zealots being here made him frown. He then turned his gaze over to where Ser Broz stood alongside the Count being held by his daughter, which was noticed by Arnas as he managed to speak up finally: "...Ser Faralt found them... with Fraskia and Vera." he spoke in between pained breaths, "They were being hunted like us." Arnas then winced as he felt the air leave his body from a sudden jolt of pain, to which the burnt knight quickly helped steady his posture.

"Indeed. They are innocents in all this." Faralt spoke plainly, most of his attention on Arnas. "He stood up for them bravely."

"But foolishly." the Guardian snapped back with annoyance, "I can't have you *perish* for this task." The sorcerer then stood up, having managed to put an end to the young man's blood loss. Instead he focused on the collected and pointed a finger up in the sky. Drawing several circles, the clouds above seemed to move closer until a patch was just above them; this was followed by a quick snap of his fingers as pink droplets began to fall. And where they fell, it did not become wet but rather it began to heal. Cuts and scrapes closed, bruises faded, and flesh mended in its entirety as though nothing had happened. The effect was potent enough to also bring life back to the soils beneath them as plants began to grow at a rapid pace. "It seems proximity to a Rift allows me to utilize more of my abilities while the ley lines are in flux." the sorcerer commented.

He then turned his gaze back to Arnas, who was still sitting next to Faralt and observed how his wounds closed in front of his very eyes. But Faralt did not share the same fortune, as his body remained the same as it had before. The burnt knight grumbled disappointment, but remained silent otherwise as the Guardian continued. "So? Did you find anything there?"

"If you mean by our intuitions, then no we didn't." Arnas commented. pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm pretty sure everything we saw came as a result of before. Nothing was new."

The Guardian looked visibly disappointed as he scratched his chin: "Then this isn't over yet." he spoke, motioning his head to where the dormant Rift was. "I could not find anything wrong with this tear, nothing like in that village or the others I had closed recently."

"So... what now?" Arnas asked.

The sorcerer did not immediately respond as he kept a hand to his chin and paced around nearby, lost in thought. The sorcerer was deep in thought as he tried to figure these things out. He then let out a sigh: "Now, we have to take a course that I rather we didn't. But it seems that we don't have much of a choice to begin with. We'll have to go to the source, the first Rift." He stopped and turned to the group with his hands behind his back, as if expecting a confusion to arise from this.

Beann Breadman Chaos Gallant Oreo Cookie Worthlessplebian

 

[Beann]

Aelestra stumbled slightly at the warped surroundings and before she could react properly, the group was faced with the Guardian once more. She looked around for a moment, noticing that they were no longer in the fiery chaos of the battlefield but instead in a more serene environment. Her eyes followed the Guardian as he tended to Arnas’ wounds, he had taken the brunt of the Inquisition’s force. Without a thought, she walked over to the two of them, standing a few feet behind the young mercenary as she watched the magic weave into his severe wound.

Her own wounds were tended to along with the rest of the party after that, the droplets of magical rain easing the pain of the cut she had received on her arm. The Guardian’s reappearance was well-timed but that didn’t mean the party was guaranteed their rest. Aelestra’s head tilted slightly to the left at the mention of the first rift. ‘Where would that be?’

 

[Chaos Gallant]

Listening to the conversation between the Guardian and Arnas made Terrence start to question whether the original payment set forth by the magician would actually be worth the amount of grief their adventure had brought them so far. The stones certainly fetched a pretty penny in Dandolian markets, and no doubt the rest of Ergos would be the same, but the coin wouldn’t be worth much if they never made it to those markets in the first place, and with the way things had played out so far, it seemed far to fair an assumption. Perhaps an increase in pay was in order…

The thought left Terrence though, and he eventually stood up, his wounds sealed and his body feeling rejuvenated from the Guardian’s spell. However, his clothes did not seem to get the same benefit as he did from the rain, a few rips and tears standing out obviously on his pants. He sighed walking to his cart, rummaging around through his bag until he procured a needle and thread, going to work on patching up his attire to the best of his ability while the group continued to discuss their next course of action.

 

[Oreo Cookie]

The vertigo from the unexpected teleportation caused Vera to stumble lightly as her boots transitioning from cindered ground to lush grass. Now free from immediate peril, the knightess allowed her adrenaline-addled mind to subside to a cautious calm, further spurred on by the Guardian's healing downpour.

"Seems to me like the goalposts keeps movin'." Vera remarked, staining the green grass red as she cleaned her sword on it. Once sheathed, she turned to eye the Guardian critically. "This first Rift notion of yours sounds mighty dangerous. I'm not one to cower from danger, but the deal's sourin' if the stakes are risin' without a bump in pay, aye?"

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Edoardo Vargas Melcher​

Arms crossed against his chest, hiding the tatters of his devotional robes, Edoardo waited. The investigation had been in vain. He felt a trickle of disappointment as his eyes close, hiding in the darkness. The priest stewed in that stream. Wishing that this inquest provided providence to the dreaded question of the Rifts. If the calamity and malformations were any indication the world will be set upon by things that prowl and hunt in places far deeper, darker than this world could fathom.

It rained. Edoardo's eyes started, wheeling themselves up to the gathered clouds, coalesced from the sorcerer's mystical magecraft. Lifting his hand, clawed fingers splayed to the side, he caught the pink raindrops in the palm, seeing them roll and slither in the space between his rigid, hard scales. Being subjected to this dry, rejuvenating sensation had created a curiously enlightened, dissociative feeling. The wounds across his body that drew blood, now no longer — he could feel his wounds clotting, the sting driven away by the soothing rain. He clenched his hand. Despite their failure, they had done good; the extrication of the Warden's shattered soul, the rescue of the Count and his daughter.

The knowledge brought an ebb, a softness, to his thoughts. His jaws widened slightly, amber eyes gleaming, reflecting the sunlight. A Sobekoni smile.

He supplied himself with a worn rag, torn free from the shredded cloth of his vestments. He traced the curved edge of the khopesh. Hearing Vera's concerns, Edoardo tilted his head in curiosity, eyes narrowing. He stepped up beside her, spotting Ser Terrence's unspoken support behind her.

"I will continue as promised. However Ser Guardian, Vera and, I suspect Terrence, have a right to their concerns." Edoardo began, bright eyes holding his gaze. "For matters such as these, I wouldn't have condoned the bartering, but a pact must be honoured." Sheathing his khopesh at his hip.