Fantasy That Time the Demon Lord Killed our Party Leader: Ic

[Bloody_Death]

KAI NAKAYAMA

They barely had a moment to collect their themselves when they got off the ship. There were sudden calls for Eleanor who seemed to be running off somewhere. He didn't quite catch what caused her to run off without anyone else. He got off towards the middle of the group. Just walking along with the crowd as they were funneled out of the ship. Though, it was anything but peaceful. Something felt oddly eerie here.

"There's something nasty here."

"Nasty-" Not even a moment later did Paimon's voice ring out through the area. Shouting to prepare themselves as the threat soon showed themselves. His eyes shot up at the green projectiles that were shot out. Soon grabbing his fan and readying himself. "Sora o Kiru" With a flick of his wrist, he shot out some wind blades to assist Kaida and her summon with dealing with the incoming projectiles before watching the remaining get blasted away by Aaxir. "Is that the nasty thing you were talking about about?" Kai mumbled, his attention turning to Eleanor who seemed to be incapacitate.

"Paimon always did have a lot of enemies. Why'd it have to be Nergal here though. He's called the plague king by the way." Quite literally the exact opposite of Wanga. Which was very concerning!! "Listen- Kai it's going to get really ugly with him here." Soon a scream would ring across the field. One coming from Tiberius who looked to be falling apart like a tender piece of chicken.

Kai was stunned for a moment. Whatever this god of plague did not only paralyzed Eleanor but was also causing Tiberius to literally rot. It was a horrifying sight. It was something he's never seen before. At least not at such an alarming speed. His attention soon went to Khatiy as she called out to him. Waving urgently for her to come over with the rotting man.

"Ah- wait before they get closer." This sickness was probably highly contagious. Wanga soon spawned beside Kai. Glancing around to make sure there was no one trying to surprise them before nodding. "Sorry in advance, Kai. Purify the soul!" Kai didn't even get a chance to question what the god meant as Wanga grabbed his wrist, pushed his sleeve up and then smacked against his forearm. Not lightly by the way!

"Ow! Wanga!?" The sting of the hit was only there for a moment. Soon replaced with a comfortable warmth as a sigil similar to the markings on Wanga himself appeared where he was hit him. Along with a soft golden glow.

"You'll be thanking me later! Nergal's plague spreads far too quickly and easily. That won't be enough to stop the spread, but it'll at least slow it down a lot so we'll have a chance to heal others before they start rotting. We don't need anyone else ending up like the gladiator."

"Jeez, a warning would of been nice." Nevertheless, Wanga really was the best when he actually tried, huh? Khatiy and Bastet soon arrived with Eleanor and Tiberius. With Tiberius looking worse by the second.

"Katty! A parting gift before you go!" Wanga wasn't rude enough to smack someone across the face, but it was a pretty forceful press against her face. The sigil on her cheek was definitely a choice though. "Don't get mad! That'll protect you from Nergal's attacks!" He quickly explained to try and keep her from getting upset at him. "As for the others..." It was too risky to try and go to the front to get them. "I'll heal these two, Kai. But before that, I need you to cast a widespread healing spell with me. You have that new spell down right? No time like the present to try it out!" They couldn't waste anymore time. It would take awhile to heal Tiberius and Eleanor. So, preparations to counter Nergal's plague had to be done now!

"Cleanse the nasties." He placed both his hands on the ground transferring the gold glow from his hands into the ground. And soon a large sigil would etch itself into the ground. Matching the ones now on Kai and Khatiy. It extended past Bastet's barrier, and while he couldn't cover the entire battlefield, he covered the general area where the heroes were fighting in. It won't be nearly as effective as placing a direct spell on them, but it would still slow the spread for anyone within the sigil's circle. "Okay! I leave the rest in your capable hands, assistant doctor, Kai and nurse Bastet. Let's try to keep the patients at a minimum." He quickly did 'purify the soul' on Eleanor and Tiberius to slow the spread further before pressing his hand on their stomachs and covering the two in a faint glow as he began healing them. First taking care of any wounds and rotten flesh to minimize pain before starting to clear out the actual disease. He was confident Bastet and Kai would protect him. So he kept his focus on healing these two completely. "Bastet, if either of them look like they're about to start vomiting, I'm going to need you to help me turn them over." He mumbled. Eyes never leaving the both of them as they spoke.

With Bastet and Wanga tending to Eleanor and Tiberius, it was left to Kai to ensure that others don't end up in a similar dire situation. Wanga was a phenomenal healer! But he never liked doing too much work. "Iyashino kūki." In theory and in practice. This does work. But he had never got a chance to use it with this many people and in battle. He held out his hand as a large orb of water began to grow. And once it was big enough he covered his fan with wind magic and sliced the water orb. Causing it to fall to the ground and explode into a thin layer of mist that quickly spread around. The mist was faint and stayed low to the ground as it spread throughout the area. It wouldn't obstruct the vision of others and might even go unnoticed by those not paying attention. It spread to just about the range of Wanga's circle. Allowing for those to in range to have both a resistance to the plague and passive healing. The mist worked as both a healing spell and a marker. As the mist becomes a bit thicker around those with more serious injuries or ailments. Allowed for Kai to spot those who may require more attention easily.

---

Interactions: Kibaa (Bastet and Khatiy) | Worthlessplebian (Tiberius) | Nessi (Eleanor)

Mentions: Probably everyone

 

[Beann]

Suzuki Kaida

The archer's arrows were true, whistling through the air and colliding against Nergal’s attacks, leaving plumes of dark green residue to drift upwards towards the atmosphere. Although she was very skilled with her bow, Aurelia wasn't afforded the time to intercept them all as stray projectiles pierced through the battlefield and against the other heroes’ various defenses. At the very least, it seemed everyone was fortunate enough to avoid the plague god's volley —

A terrible scream ripped through the air, demanding the attention of those around. Kaida whipped her head in the direction of the distressed call and her heart immediately plummeted at the sight of a familiar set of armor. “Tib–?” The arrival of Polux shielded the sight of the fallen gladiator, prompting her to turn her body and take a small step towards them.

And then another step.

And then another.

Only when Polux scooped Tiberius in his arms and moved at an incredible speed further away did her own legs react. She chased after him, the environment around her blurred as her vision remained fixated on the armored titan. He had laid the gladiator's weakened body for Kai and his god to tend to, prompting the kitsune to sheathe her blade and force her legs to carry her faster. Her muscles screamed in pain at the overexertion but complied with the demands as Kaida sprinted past Khatiy’s deity and threw herself onto her knees in a sliding halt beside Tiberius.

“Tiberius–!” She managed to choke out, breathing heavily from exhaustion and panic. Her hands hovered over him, shaking uncontrollably, unsure if it was wise to touch him despite Wanga’s precautions. Feral eyes darted from his wounds to the deity's hand pressed on his stomach. What could she even do?

“C-Can’t you work faster?! Heal him NOW!”

“Insolent child! You will not speak that way to any god!”

The kitsune's ears flattened at the scolding she was given telepathically, tears welling in her eyes. Rather than apologize, she averted her gaze away from Wanga, her focus shifting to someone more important. Unsteady hands moved to the gladiator's helmet, removing it as gently as possible and placing it beside her. Kaida looked at his expression briefly before immediately grabbing his shoulders and rolling him to Wanga's side to not disrupt the god's work. Her hand firmly grasped Tiberius’ jaw, assisting with opening the airway and expelling the vomit.

“You're okay…” Her other hand moved to caress the back of his neck. “You're okay…” She repeated softly, trying to comfort him and herself with her own words.

 

[Midrick]

Arrian Dreagher

Despite his promises of taking the group pub hopping, The government of the islses would have other idea's. The rapidly worsening plague had seen strict curfew's put in place to hopefully limit the spread of spread of whatever insidious malaise had gripped the isles. Grumbling to himself as he sat on the deck of Carmens airship with his back to the gunwale, silently obeserving the various heroes preparing themselves with whatever time they had left during the voyage to the well. Despite his previously agitated state, the melody of Carmen's music calmed his tempestuous mood, and Arrian cast his gaze upwards, watching the pre-dawn darkness of the early morning sky shift from the deepest of blues to warm pink, before the sun began to crest the horizon and flooded the sky with blood red and orange brilliance. Despite his rather uncouth nature, even one as unsophisticated as Arrian could appreciate the beauty of a sunrise over the aquamarine water of the sea that divided the islands, a content sigh leaving his nostrils as he subsequently took in a lung full of the salt laced air of ocean, feeling reinvigorated for the coming trial that involved journeying to the well proper.

After disembarking from the airship, Arrian was struck by the architecture of the well temple itself, the alabaster marble was as if it had simply grown from the sea itself, such was the quality of the craftsmanship of the well. Despite the warnings from Yi Nuo, the walk up into the zone was uneventful, it seemed that they were the only ones present on the small island, a thought that put Arrian on edge. He wasn't there when they heroes originally secured relics from the well, but he had heard that there were a myriad of fantastical beasts and monster in its vicinity. Something felt very wrong to Arrian, but he kept his thoughts to himself, tightening his grip on the handle of his sword, preparing himself should anything attempt to surprise him and the group.

if Arrian thought the exterior of the well was impressive, the interior took his breath away. "Whoah..." he said with a sigh, taking in the sight of the well proper. motes of light and faerie fire hung in the air, enveloping the cavernous space in a soft, nebulous, glow. It was as if one stepped from the earth to the sky amongst the stars as he craned his neck in an attempt to find the ceiling of the well, a soft breeze from somewhere deep within the well caressed his skin, and tussled the dark mane of his hair softly. Arrian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the air here tasted different, still carrying the pure and untainted notes from above, but there was something akin to ozone hiding just below the surface, like an electric charge building into a lightning strike, the air around the fall was practically suffused with enough mana to cast even the most taxing and complicated spells with ease. "I'm still a bit new to this whole 'god' thing, but things like this still manage to wow me, all things considered..." Cu Chulainn said absentmindedly as he appeared suddenly next to Arrian, the god taking in the sights of the well proper. Both god and chosen hero were too wrapped up in their sightseeing to notice what should've been alarming at worst in the form of a child in the well, Arrian barely turned in time before Eleanor tore off after the mystery child. Arrian looked to Cu Chulainn while the god simply shrugged. Not a minute later the walls shook with the wrath of a god as Paimon roared, charging back towards the assembled mages and heroes. at the command to prepare Arrian drew his sword with enthusiam. "Finally! some excitement, lets get stuck in!" he roared in anticipation as he brought the blade in line with his body. Assuming a neutral stance with the blade hovering at a sixty degree angle, Arrian's enthiusiasm quickly died however as a form that radiated mallign power framed by crimson locks that promised naught but suffering sauntered into view. "What the hell is that?!" Arrian cried before a torrent of sickly green projectiles showered the party, and Arrian barely had time to throw himself behind the bastion of ice formed by Ro, landing in a sprawl as he scooted into the barrier, hugging it as if his life depended upon it. "Nergal... don't know much about 'im besides the fact that he's serious trouble. You need to be ectremely cautious Arri-" as Cu Chulainn attempted to coach his champion, Arrian had removed and primed his crossbow, leaning out from behind the wall and releasing a hail of fire towards Nergal. Unheeding of his patron's words. Trying to correct his aim to more effectively suppress the rival god, Arrian noticed the streak of emerald death rapidly approaching, and moved a second too late, the bolt gouging a superficial wound across Arrian's right cheekbone, just below the eye.


...

"-rian!"

"ARRIAN!" Pain blossomed across his senses like a field of wolfsbane, lighting every nerve on fire, and drawing a low groan out of Arrian. Cu Chulainn was violently shaking him by the shoulders, He could smell decay and rot, suddenly realizing it was his face where he had been grazed. A horrified, throaty groan that was slowly rising in pitch managed to escape him, but he managed to stifle it before it turned to full blown scream. Focusing instead on the slowly expanding patch of putrified flesh shedding pus and curdled, blackened blood. the stuff oozing from the cracked and necrotized skin that hadn't sloughed off completely. Stymieing his rising panic by screwing his eyes shut and forcing himself to breathe evenly, Arrian channeled his mana to counteract the effects of Nergal's foul magics. although it was much more difficult than the more mundane magic he was used to dealing with, Arrian managed to curtail the flesh-eating curse of Nergal, if only temporarily. "Why didn't you listen to me you foolish boy!" Cu Chulainn roared, his face a drawn into a mask of pure anger "Do you have any idea who we're dealing with?!" his patron berated him as he took stock of the situation, Arrian could see Aaxir and Pollux charging Nergal and keeping the plague god at bay. "I-I didn't th-" Arrian managed to stutter before his gaze landed upon Tiberius. The wounds his friend had sustained mirrored his own but to a much more severe degree, flesh and muscle boiling away to where his chest cavity and viscera was barely hidden from few. He saw Kai doing his damnedest to reverse whatever hellish curse had taken hold of Tibs while Kaida attempted to assist, barely keeping herself together. He saw Khatiy, Azeera, and Enthy holding back while Aaxir fought alone. A spark was lit deep within, and the raging inferno of his emotions only grew with time, a rapidly brightening glow began to emanate from the blood vessels within Arrian, no longer paying heed or acknowledging to anything beyond his inner monologue. gone was the fear and uncertainty, replaced by a rage that was quickly boiling over as indignation flooded his thoughts. What were the great heores of the age doing cowering before a single, diminished, god? were they themselves not gifted with the same power by arguably greater gods? only one thing could explain their hesitation, fear. "Cowards..." he growled through clenched teeth, Cu Chulainn had begun to emmit the same arterial glow as his champion, the temperature around the duo slowly rising. Arrian could feel his muscles bulge against his skin, threatening to burst through the outer layers of flesh as power flooded into him. He could not, WOULD not, suffer cowardice, from himself or others. Capiliries across the length of his bodiy burst as his hammering heart ruputured them from the pure force it was exerting, his form was now enlarging at an appreciably rate, Cu Chulainn disapperated, as series of cracks and pops of bones and muscles growing and rearranging themselves at an accelerated rate could be heard from the end of the wall in the space that Arrian had previously occupied. Arrian's teeth shattered under the pressure of his clenching jaws before reforming into iron spikes, but he couldn't feel it, the divine anger fueling his morbid transformation dulling every sense besides the ever growing furnace of contempt from within him. Skin blackening and hardening into a hide of thick, semi-molten iron, the formerly average frame of the young man from Breuci now towered at almost nine feet in height, crimson orbs of fire replacing his eyes, a helmet of ornate and savage ornamentation donned his brow, summoned from beyond the aether by divine magic. the manifestation of Cu Chulainn's legendary rage complete, the avatar of destruction blazed to life, a baleful red glow shining through where the skin of the avatar was thinnest, those closest to him would be hit with a blast of heat that was powerful enough to singe hair and prickle the skin.

Sparing one last glance at his companions, Arrian planted his feet on the stone of the floor and suddenly launched into the direction of Nergal, the stone cracking from the force that his divine form exerted on them as he charged. Smashing through Rohen's barrier, the smaller chunks of ice that made contact with Arrian's form immediately exploded into steam, flash boiled from the intense heat he was generating. Moving faster than was possible for something of such size, Arrian lowered his left shoulder and slammed the onyx form of pollux out of the way, a compulsion to take the most direct route to the object of his anger possible had infected his mind, no matter what was in his way. Unheeding of the geysers of flame and molten rock generated by Aaxir, Arrian's blade had also grown in size to match his greater proportion's and dimension's, the blade now almost obscenely titantic, but as he charged the entire length of the blade erupted into hellfire, burning almost as hot as Arrian was. "HE'S MINE!!!" the titan would cry in a savage and guttural voice that thundered across the cavern for all to hear as Arrian planted his feet and hefted the gargantuan sword overhead with both hands, transfering the built up momentum into a mighty overhead strike that could sunder mountains down to their roots, aimed at the crown of Nergal's head. At the last possible nano second before it would be impossible to avert the strike, the titan pivoted its left shoulder and stopped its forward momentum by sliding it's right foot at a forty five degree angle, corckscrewing its torso to add horizontal force to the horizontal slash that he had transfered his originial strike to in a feint that was almost imperceptively fast, unheeding of any collateral damage or plans previously drawn up. All that mattered was utterly anihilating the transgressor in front of Arrian's divine synchronization...

Interactions: Nessi Worthlessplebian (as Pollux) LazyDaze

Mentions: Worthlessplebian Zariel Beann Kibaa Nessi

 

[Steve Jobs]

Title of Song

Freyr Stormsurge

Mentions: Tiberus, Eleanor, Aaxir, Arrian, Khatiy, Kai, Nergal

The days leading to the group's journey were no different than the others save for gathering supplies and taking extra time to iron out the dents Tiberius' helm. It had sustained a fair bit of damage during his travels, no doubt exacerbated by the extra enemies they encountered on their way back to the Isles. Nonetheless, there was nothing that Freyr couldn't fix and nothing that Kagutuschi's hammer couldn't imbue upon it.

Without knowing the full extent of the disease, the god recommended a more broad approach. The heroes wouldn't be called for something that could be dissipated with rudimentary healing magic so it was fair to assume that standard armor would not do for a close range combatant such as him. He'd need a stronger barrier against the blight on the Isles.

It took only half a day before the Fae-Giant finished, sweat rolling down his furry brow before he set the armet down. From ash to silver, dented to smooth, and ordinary to enchanted. Though he could have settled with only repairing the metal portion of the armor, a thought occurred to him while sanding the edges away.

Upon first glance, Tiberius seemed to be a man of little flair but for a former gladiator, their helmet was their identity. It was how their audience knew them and the last thing that their opponents would ever see. For a foot soldier, restoring the comb and stamping their coat of arms would be enough but heroes deserved their own flair. Recalled the patterns on the human's pauldrons, Freyr grabbed a gold bar from his work station and gathered mana in his fingers. Slivers of gold left their home, gilding themselves along the embossed surfaces of the helm.

"A worthy helm for a worthy warrior," Kagutsuchi boomed in the back of Freyr's mind, "but be warned that your duty extends beyond crafting their arms."

---​

The journey to the Well of Origin was a peaceful one, marked little more than a send off from Yi Nuo and the polishing of Sumire's Will. Freyr didn't have much in the way of healing magic or salves, but the amount of mana he stockpiled in the dagger could stymie at least one death. Theoretically, it could heal a person of their symptoms but he had no way of testing whether or not it would act as a cure. He had no interest in running around and stabbing sick people to test the limits of his "weapon."

Instead, he sheathed Sumire's Will and followed the rest of the group off the ship with his gauntlets already equipped. Though the water walking spell prevented him from sinking, Freyr still moved with purpose. His shoulders tensed from the unfamiliarity of the area, eyes already darting about for signs for pestilence. He may not have been as old as some of the other members in their party, but he'd traveled enough to discern paranoia from wariness.

The young, brunette woman did not share his common sense.

"Eleanor, wait!"

"Eleanor!"

"Eleanor! Stop!"

In spite of everyone's pleas, she darted off with the speed of a general ready to lead her soldiers to death. While he loathed the idea of leaving a child behind, rescue was not merely a product of good will. It required knowledge of the area, the condition of the victim, and what dangers lay ahead of them.

"She is going to get herself killed."

he grumbled, reminded of a certain, headstrong woman he carried with him.

Still, Freyr ventured further into the mysterious space, only stopping once Paimon emerged with Eleanor in his arms.

“Everyone, prepare yourselves!”

"Come forth, my pretties!" cried Nergal, the god of plague. Far from the disease being part of his nature, his voice dripped with cruelty as green blights formed in the air.

Godhood be damned. He deserved to be scorched from this Earth.

Mana coalesced in Freyr's gloves, eyes barely catching the blights before he fled from any projects not yet neutralized by his allies. He needed a plan, they needed a plan before moving forward.

"Tiberus you absolute fool!"

Freyr cursed,

"Do none of you understand restraint?"

They clearly learned nothing from Eleanor nor their past encounters. He could only assume that the party survived through luck and godhood alone because very few of their lot were putting thought in their actions. He reached for Sumire's Will, ready to launch it at the former gladiator until he heard another boy charge into the fray.

Luck, it was luck and sheer force of willpower. Freyr let go of the dagger, instead keeping an eye on Nergal and the now-transformed Arrian. With Kai and Khatiy sequestered to healing their fallen companions, there was a good chance he'd need to cover the next person struck by the plague god.

 

[Dawnsx]

Nelumba

Interactions: CasualTea

Mentions: Worthlessplebian Nessi

If the stinkiest fae around this part of town was Nel (in Shiva’s opinion), then the stinkiest god must be Nergal!

Just by looking at the state of Eleanor’s body, Nel knew that getting hit by those booger-colored projectiles would be bad news! And she was sure that her flesh would melt off faster than everyone else’s! Nel forgoed the idea of creating her own shield (she’d always been better at making sharp, pointy stuff!) and ducked behind Rohen’s wall of ice instead. All the while, she nodded in approval.

“I taught you well, young grasshopper,” Nel said, stroking her invisible beard.

“Stop fooling around.”

Nel blinked at the ice in Shiva’s voice. Was Shiva angry? He was angry! Shiva didn’t get angry often. Annoyed? Yes. Exasperated? Yes. Disappointed? Yes. Usually all toward Nel! But anger was rare!

“You’ve got beef with Nergal!” Nel exclaimed.

Shiva somehow managed to convey “unimpressed” toward her epiphany without uttering a single word or showing his face.

“Any sane being would ‘have beef,’ as you say, with one who unjustly inflicts illness and death,” Shiva said flatly. “You hardly have a shred of sanity, but I would assume that the Champion of life and whatever should detest a god who causes such suffering.”

Nel gasped and shot up from her crouch, unheeding of the death-beam that narrowly whizzed past the top of her head.

“You’re right!” she cried out. “This is a job for the Champions!”

She scanned the battlefield; in the brief time that she spent talking to Shiva, several heroes were already engaging with Nergal, and Tibby had joined the ranks of casualties. Nel’s gut clenched painfully as her gaze landed on her friends’ gruesome, twisted flesh.

Whether it’d be Lycoris or her comrades, it seemed that death rarely came swiftly enough.

A while ago, Nel would think that a merciful deliverance would be the only option for her friends. But now, with the awesome powers bestowed by gods like Wanga and her very own Shiva, there was still hope! Heat kills germs, right?!

“Budget transformation time!” Nel shouted. With a quick flash of light, she took on her divine synchronization form with Shiva’s Trishula in hand.

With her hero buddies taking care of the projectiles and Nergal’s incoming attacks, she emerged from Rohen’s shield and danced the familiar steps of the Tandava. The fires of creation and destruction swirled around her, leaping higher and burning hotter with each second.

“Friendly fire incoming! Pun intended!” Nel called out. The flames shot out in all directions, gliding harmlessly over her allies and enveloping the fallen heroes. Another firestorm swept toward Nergal like a wave of searing antibacterial spray.

 

[OldTurtle]

Fel Petri

Interactions:

Mentions:

It was an odd sensation, being home. It wasn’t the first time he’d returned since the onset of the war, but it was never quite the same. Or perhaps it was he who was never quite the same. The buildings remained and the people persisted. The worn stone paths led to the same destinations. The marble walls gleamed in the light of the setting sun all the same, the exact shade of pink he’d dreamed of so frequently.

And yet he felt a stranger in a strange land.

After the heroes’ meeting with Chief Nohea – what an incredibly irritating man; Fel vastly preferred his predecessors – they once again went their separate ways. Moving almost on instinct, his feet traced the path that wound around the island and up into the academy, bringing him to a stop before the tall tower that housed a number of Leone's researchers. The weathered door seemed to tower above his form. Fel took a half-step back and turned his face up to the sky.

A large buzzard circled overhead, a tiny black speck against a blue backdrop.

He looked away and entered. There were stairs to the left, and he took them up to the third floor. Another left and a right brought him before a very familiar door. White oak painted an odd shade of blue. Amateurish, you could see the individual strokes running from top to bottom. He’d protested the color at the time, but in the decade since had grown accustomed to it. Better to endure the nauseating pigments than suffer the endless complaints he would’ve received for fixing it.

He should repaint it.

Fel reached into his cloak and withdrew a small bronze key. He inserted it into the lock and undid the seals binding the door shut. It swung open with a low creak and Fel stepped into his chambers.

It was just as it was the day he’d left it – only coated with a thick layer of dust. The room looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed in ages. It hadn’t, of course; he’d sealed it away the day he’d left for the war and during every subsequent visit to the Isles, he’d stayed with the other heroes at the guest quarters arranged by the chieftain. This was the first time a living being had entered his home in over four years.

Fel wasn’t sure what had driven himself to break his unspoken taboo this time. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

Crossing to the opposite wall, he struggled for a moment to open the window. Finally it sprung free with a clatter and a gust of fresh air rushed in, casting up a cloud of debris as it disturbed the long-settled dust. Coughing, Fel drew his cloak around his face and swept the grime away through the window with another blast of wind.

Tossing his staff onto the nearby desk, he drew a chair close and sat down, facing the rest of the living room. The light of the setting sun cast deep shadows across every surface and crevice, a thousand faces all watching and waiting. They whispered terrible things, old things, words of cruelty and affection and hatred and kindness and the past. For a moment, he felt so weary, as if the past four years had suddenly settled about his shoulders and threatened to drag him down into the earth.

It was good to be home, he told himself. It was good to be home.

Fel rose from his seat, rolled up his sleeves, and set himself to cleaning.

​

---

“These chambers of yours are entirely too cramped. Why not move somewhere larger? There are certainly better accommodations you could’ve arranged even prior to becoming my hero.”

“Sentimentality, I suppose. This has been my home for… longer than I can remember. I grew attached.”

“Hm.”

“Besides, I spent most of my time in the facilities. More space would’ve just posed extra hassle in maintaining. There were only ever a few times that I… well, it hardly matters now, does it?”

“You should’ve stayed with your companions.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter.”

“...I only mean well, my champion.”

---

It was too late to be night but not early enough to be morning when Fel woke. Unsteadily, he clambered out of bed and moved to the window, nearly tripping twice in the dim moonlight. The aperture was still open and he pressed his head out through it, then emptied the contents of his stomach into the space below. He continued until his throat burned and there was nothing left in it, then continued to retch emptily a while longer.

When his heaving subsided, Fel pulled his head back into the room and crumpled to his knees. He remained there, leaned against the wall as if in some mockery of prayer, for a while longer. His head throbbed painfully, like a dark brand bore through his skull and seared into the center of his brain. Cold sweat dragged icy corpse fingers down his spine.

Finally, he collected his wits, gathered his things, and left his rooms. Sealing the door behind him again, Fel made his way back down into the accommodations arranged by Chief Nohea. The sun’s first rays were beginning to shine over the horizon when he collapsed into his new bed – all soft down and plush layers – and immediately fell asleep.

Over the next few days, he slept and ate fitfully, instead choosing to split his time between his room and the academy libraries. He threw himself once more into his practice, keenly feeling his deficiencies in the previous battles. Oddly enough, Ayao had little to say of his dereliction of both his physical health and training – or rather, she had much to say but did little about it. It seemed even she could sense Fel’s troubling state of mind would be unreceptive to her interference. He almost appreciated it.

There were two major areas the mage decided to improve upon. The first was, of course, his lightning magic. Among the most useful of his combat skills, it was also one of the least refined. The heroes’ clash against the knight had shown as much. It was a disgrace that he’d been usurped so blatantly, and Fel resolved to expand his repertoire threefold by the time they left for the Well. This much was simple; there was an abundance of resources to consult at Leone, and the magic came naturally to him.

The second aspect was the more difficult. Fel was, at his core, a researcher. His original expertise in magic extended so far as he saw appropriate in aiding his work. One of the fields he’d never so much as considered before was healing magic. Prior to the war, he’d had no intention of becoming a healer or serving in any medical capacities. During the early years of the war, there had been little time to learn any. The party was stretched thin, too few heroes trying to fight on too many fronts with too many casualties. Later on, as they’d found their footing and began to gain ground in the war, it was unnecessary. There was an abundance of healing magic already, and Fel’s value lay largely in his destructive capabilities. This was no longer true.

Kai was the last of the party’s capable healers – alongside Aaxir, though Fel hesitated to ever attach that label to the scaly, overgrown child – and the fiasco in Hofn demonstrated how overtaxed he could become. That the fate of the entire party rested on his shoulders was not something Fel approved of. When the young man died – and at this rate, it truly was a question of when and not if – that would very likely spell doom for them all. Fel wasn’t quite sure when he’d come to rely on his blessed healing so heavily, but he was determined to regain some independence.

Healing magic was a bit of an oddity to the sun elf. All traditional forms of magic shared the same basis, but he’d grown so used to creation and destruction that reconstruction seemed almost an alien concept. Too gentle, too kind for his liking.

Soon enough, as the sickness infecting the island grew worse and the people were placed under curfew, Fel was relegated entirely to the confines of his bedroom. The privacy of his chambers suited him better, he decided; every time he ventured out, gaggles of students stared and whispered wherever he went. It took tremendous strength of will to not set their shoes ablaze and watch them flee.

​

---

“The hour grows late and you haven’t eaten yet, Fel. This grows unhealthy.”

“I said I would the last time you bothered me, didn’t I? Besides, this is urgent. I need to get as much use out of these records as I can. This blasted curfew has been getting in the way.”

“It has been four hours since then, and you said as much yesterday as well. I do not appreciate being lied to.”

“And I don’t appreciate being interrupted when I’m busy.”

“You will not take that tone with me, do you understand?”

“...”

“Fine, do as you please. You will come to your senses sooner or later.”

---

The journey to the Well of Origin passed with surprisingly little to note. Oddly enough, there wasn’t even a single close encounter with one of the terrible creatures haunting the cursed islands, leaving Fel to pass the flight by leafing through one of the tomes he’d slipped out of the academy records. That did not bode well. If there was anything Fel learned about the party over their years together, it is that they were a magnet for trouble.

Not one of their plans ever concluded without disturbance, so to have traveled so far without even the slightest headwind to hamper them prickled at every one of his superstitious senses. Fel clutched tightly at his staff. Yes, there was something foul brewing.

For a moment, his unease was forgotten as the well came into sight. A magnificent ivory monument on a sea of liquid aquamarine, the ancient structure was among the most beautiful he’d ever seen. So little was known about a place of such incredible value; truly a tragedy.

A brief burst of magic carried Fel gently down into the lower ring of the well, where he paused to luxuriate in their surroundings. There was an energy in the air, almost magic given physical form. Individual relics were often powerful enough to be sensed – but compared to the birthplace of them all, they were but the faintest of stars against the full brilliance of the noonday sun. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sunlight, the salty sharpness of the breeze, the crying of the sea breeze. For a moment, it seemed as if everything in the world was just right.

This was where he was meant to be.

“Everyone, prepare yourselves!”

And then that illusion was broken, dragging Fel harshly back into the unwelcoming arms of reality. He took up his staff, taking a moment to recognize Paimon carrying a limp Eleanor – when had she wandered off? Didn’t the fool of a girl know better than to go off on her own in such dangerous lands? – and the sudden appearance of… who-?

“Nergal.”

Fel’s blood froze. The god of plague was among the most infamous of Veita’s deities, feared for his strength, his wickedness, and, above all else, the indiscriminate death and destruction he sowed in his path. The sickness, the plague across the Isles – was it his doing? But why, why here, why now? Why, of all things, did a god need to descend to sabotage their efforts, as if the might of the Crimson King wasn’t enough to contend with?

Everything immediately began to fall apart. Tiberius was the first, caught in the throws of a sickening flesh-rot. That was unfortunate, not just because it temporarily eliminated one of their most powerful fighters, but also because it seemed that was the straw that set off an entire chain of disasters. Aaxir dashed in with a pointed look with Arrian on his heels. More imbeciles, the pair of them both. Gods, why was it always those meatheads causing trouble? He eyes fell back on Tiberius's writhing form. Fel shivered.

A firm hand gripped his chin and dragged his face away from the gruesome sight. A pair of dark, steely eyes met his own.

“Ignore them. Ignore all of it. I don’t know what specter has been haunting you recently, but this is not the time to lose focus. You will all die.”

Fel closed his eyes. There was more noise, more fighting and voices sounding, but he shut them all out. There existed only himself – and his magic. He sought it out, guided it and shaped it, letting it flow freely until every fiber of his being sang in unison.

“And the nature of fire is to guide. The shine of a beacon in the darkness illuminates the most twisted of paths. The longest of nights shall come to an end, pierced by the inexhaustible brilliance of the morning sun. As it always has been, and as it always shall be. The Herald of Dawn.”

He opened his eyes. In the air above him bloomed a small ball of fire. A pale shade of blue and only the size of his fist, it was almost underwhelming. And then it doubled in size. And then it did so again. And again. And again and again and again until it ballooned larger than even Chrome or Pollux. And, suddenly, it grew brighter. Fel gasped silently as a rush of vitality filled his body. His mana surged, like some internal dam had finally shattered.. It was a heady strength that permeated his body down to the bones. Power. Ecstasy. Perfection. Yes, this would do very nicely.

With a silent motion, the flaming orb rose higher until it was suspended a few meters from the top of his head. The roiling flames shifted and stilled, then condensed, tightening and growing brighter and brighter until it shined as bright as the very sun itself. No, it was the sun, shining so brilliantly it bleached the color from the environment entirely. The heat scorched even Fel, radiating out with an intensity unbearable to anyone else. The water below bubbled and steamed, casting up great clouds of vapor around him. This was strength.

“Fel, that’s enough.”

And it wasn’t enough. He fed the great sphere more and more mana, feeling as if there was no end to its hunger. By now the radiance was beyond blindingly bright – it was all but impossible to look directly at Fel. His hands trembled with the effort, hardly able to contain the sheer destructive power within its bounds. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t enough.

“Fel!”

And then it was enough and he unleashed it. The surface of the sphere bubbled before loosening two dozen beams of waist-thick fire across the pool in Nergal’s direction. They scythed paths of destruction through the water, casting up thick clouds of steam and melted down the stone flooring below to glowing magma. The earth quaked as the released energy raked over the area, forcing its way into the land and tearing it apart with a reckless abandon.

 

[DSLIX]

Chrome Van Der Linde

Nessi

Chrome spent all of his free time in the Isles reading and studying. His interaction with Azaera earlier leaving him in a somewhat flustered state as he could see straight through Azaera's lies even without the help of hearing stuttering heart beat as she lies. He merely smirks at waves her off as she departs before sighing deeply to himself "Well I guess I'm still the weirdo of the crew.......agh why do I always embarrass myself like this." Chrome palms his face and grips his cheekbones tightly with slight frustration. He then takes a deep breath and feels a wave of calmness and focus overcome him before he's soaked back into the books he had at hand. As the days went by though Chrome eventually had to leave the library as it was being closed due to the rapid spread of sickness going around. Chrome was concerned for the people of the Isles but had no way of really knowing on how to fight an unknown sickness so he merely helped with what he knew and kept his distance other than that. For the first time in awhile, Hanuman actually decided to have conversation with Chrome without belittling him. Doing things like simply asking him about his plans for today, Providing insight during meditation and his research, and even appearing before him once to enjoy the quiet night sky over the Isles as Chrome casually sits atop of a tall building with a great view of the city. "Despite all this beauty there's underlying stench of rot nearby. Be careful child, a nasty foe is closer than you think.“ Hanuman sat beside Chrome with a heavy sigh the giant monkey man seeming rather friendly compare to his usual prideful and scornful manner. For the next hour or so they sat in silence before Chrome simply stood up saying “Well I guess we should be prepare a little more now.“



Eventually the time to go to the Isles comes and Chrome finds a few books to take with him on the ship to past time. He took shelter in a empty closet room near the bottom of the ship so the others couldn’t disturb him. Another thing Chrome needs to investigate is the skill gem he pulls out of his pocket that smells and even emits a mana that resembles Parzivals. Eleanor had shown it to the group before hand and he had took it quickly wondering why it appeared and what it could possibly hold. Hanuman voice echoed in his head “Seems like you got a piece of his essence. How strange a vampire not even that old dropping an essence. Regardless, crush this stone to absorb his essence and well….best experience it yourself.“ Chrome stayed quiet as he eyed the gem. The rage from even thinking of Parzival still present in his heart. He then focuses his mind to prepare for whatever may happen before immediately crushing the stone in his hand with a simple squeeze. In a blink Chrome found himself in complete darkness. Floating around aimlessly in a void until a blinding light appears and…….Chrome finds himself being awoken by an unfamiliar man while he seems to be resting on a nearby tree. He looks around before noticing he’s…..shorter? “What type of vampire are you anyways? Lounging in the sun like a human…..get up!“ Chrome jumps to looks over to the unfamiliar man after getting kicked in the back and before he could respond his mouth moved on its own. A voice he recognized came out and it made him freeze up “Hey! What was that for man?!“ Chrome was stuck in Parzival’s memories. Chrome was pulled through a countless number of memories throughout Parzival’s life that slowly brought Chrome to an understanding about vampires as well as Parzival and his reasons for his actions. Chrome even got to see the original Crimson King in person and it terrified him as the Crimson King’s aura reminded him of his own beast inside. Is this the fate that await those that succumb to the beast? To become a walking calamity only interested in making rivers of blood. Chrome soon finds himself back in the void but now he’s sitting across a familiar face which simply says “So now that you’ve invaded my mind and all anything else you plan to take?“ Chrome stared at Parzival with a hardened gaze before it softened and he merely replies with “If you weren’t so angry then we could’ve probably been friends. People like us don’t do well when we’re alone.“ Parzival scoffed at his words “Just because you’ve relived my pain doesn’t mean you understand it.“ Chrome just smirks at Parzival and says smugly “Maybe? I understand your motives though and your goal. To be honest, I don’t hate you at all anymore Parzival. You were a hero until you made the choice to join Tiryan to build that world you wanted.“ Parzival stood and glared at Chrome saying “I refuse to let a kid half my age criticize my choices. What do you know other than what you’ve seen. You don’t know what I’ve sacri-“ Chrome stands and stops Parzival mid-sentence “Everything right? You put in everything into everyone you ever cared for and you still lost them. Sadly that is the truth for most of our kind. I hate this truth and that’s why I’ll change it.” Chrome stares into Parzival’s harsh gaze with a warm one of his own before sticking his hand out to shake. Parzival glares at Chrome for a minute before scoffing and roughly grabbing his arm to shake “Not like I have a choice but to believe now so don’t fuck it off, or I’ll really kill you this time.” Chrome feels his brow furrow in anger at Parzival’s jab but merely smirks back with a slightly aggravated smile saying “Can’t fuck it up anymore than you now can I? Now shut up and watch me save our race……..Oh and rest in peace.“ Chrome firmly grips Parzival’s arm and they exchange acknowledging smiles before Parzival slowly fades into nothingness and Chrome gets yanked out of his deep trance.



Chrome awakens with a deep gasp and a startled expression before catching a random slap from Hanuman that knocks him over. He stands up with an annoyed expression but Hanuman beats him to the first word “Everyone has left already we need to leave that putrid smell is here and so is our next enemy.” Soon as Hanuman finishes speaking he hears a commotion of people yelling outside before the ship rumbles slightly. He saves his words for later and merely rushes his way out the ship and leaps off the boat. He spreads his wings and with one good flap he soars towards the party making it in no time. Though coming back to the chaos unfolding at all was a little overbearing at first. Fatal injuries, enraged teammates, seems like everything was falling apart, and all hope would soon be lost. Not for Chrome though as with his new resolve to usher in a new era for his people there he refused to die. So Chrome does what he does best and goes to defend his allies. He flies in behind Arrian a small orb of slowly forming and compacting into a dense orb of blood before mumbling “Bang…Bang….Bang.“ He fires three orbs back to back and they zip through the air with the speed of a bullet. Chrome causes the three orbs to disperse and intercept Nergal’s ranged attacks focused at Arrian, Aaxir, and Polux destroying the projectiles by causing the blood orbs to turn to iron before they collide into them. Doing his best to give a clear path to for his allies. Chrome doesn’t hesitate to protect himself by layering his body in armor his old scab armor now replaced with solid iron and Hanuman grunts approvingly “You should be fine as long as his attacks doesn’t break skin.“ Chrome casually strolls up beside Arrian fully armored and gives him a casual pat on the back “Be careful now brother we can’t destroy the temple. Let me help you with this one.“ Chrome then has his armored arm form into a bladed whip.

 

[Nessi]

Lichdragon Fortissax

Plague

“Yes…come forth mortals! Come, and taste despair!” Nergal howled as he watched student and hero alike crumble after getting merely grazed by his projectiles. The plague god gracefully landed on the floor, and was immediately met with fire that sparkled like the night sky above. “Oh dear Polux, is the mistress of night tru-”
Polux’s maul forced Nergal to lean back and dodge, just far enough to avoid the physical impact, but not enough to avoid the fire. The flames scorched the plague gods arms, but judging from the consistent smirk on his face, the attack had little effect on him.

“My turn.”

Nergal quickly smashed his mace into Polux’s head, sending him face first into the ground. Long, pale fingers grabbed unto the iron giant, and lifted him as if he weighed next to nothing.
Using Polux as a shield, Nergal blocked Aaxir’s reckless attack, before tossing him aside to deal with the red dragon. However, he’d be distracted by yet another challenger, this time what looked to be a demon straight from hell. “Come one, come all!” Nergal laughed as he brought his blade up to defend himself. To his surprise, the demon would change the direction of the blade entirely, going from the head, all the way down to the torso, at speeds that not even he could keep up with.

But it didn’t matter.

Arrian’s blade would connect with Nergal, but it wouldn’t go any deeper than an inch into his body.
“Did you truly think that a primitive weapon like that could cleave me in two?” Nergal giggled.
Arrian was sent sliding backwards with a single punch, and the laughter of the plague god only grew louder, even when consumed by the destructive flames of shiva. Flesh burned, and regenerated at the same time, to the point where it looked as if Nergal regenerated faster than Nel could burn him, and by the time the flames cleared, he emerged relatively unscathed.

But the fire was far from over, in fact, it had only just begun, for as soon as Nel’s flames died, Fel’s beams of fire rained down upon Nergal, who was merely wide eyed at the display of power before him.

When the dust settled, Nergal’s body was filled with holes, but still, the plague god laughed. “What a display of power!” he laughed. Like clockwork, the wounds across Nergal’s body began to heal rapidly, until he was back to full health.
“You’ve never been able to heal like that, Nergal.” Paimon spat, walking towards the plague god with no fear.
“Quite the observation, your majesty!” Nergal chuckled, retrieving what looked to be a bird cage that was attached to his waist. “You see, after I escaped my little prison, I had to devise a plan, one to get what lies within you. But I knew fighting a bunch of special mortals would be hard! So I decided to enlist the help of the great phoenix herself!” Nergal laughed. “I clipped her wings, and put her in this little cage! Where she’s forced to heal me! Isn’t it so wonderful, I really a-”

Paimon brought a golden fist down upon Nergal, attempting to destroy the cage while the plague god was distracted.
Unfortunately, Nergal blocked his attack, and leapt backwards to create space between himself, and Paimon.
“Listen up…The enemy that stands before you is much more powerful than any enemy you’ve witnessed before. Now is not the time to hold back, it is times like these that you must fight with everything you’ve got!” Paimon yelled out, his golden blade raised up high for all to see.

“Yes, King Paimon is quite right.” Nergal spat. “You mortals should fight with everything you have, struggle as much as you can. Because once you realize how futile your efforts are, only then will you taste true despair.” he announced, raising his arms high into the sky. Nergal opened his mouth wide, and Locust began to pour out of the plague god’s mouth in droves. Instead of focusing the heroes, they focused on summons, swarming them and rapidly draining their mana.

“Enough!” Paimon yelled. The eternal king rushed through the swarm, and delivered an uppercut that cut off the flow of Locust.
Nergal barely recovered from the first attack by the time he was slammed with a powerful kick to the head.
Paimon’s onslaught was unrelenting, each strike feeling stronger than the last. In an instant, the eternal king had forced Nergal on the defensive, creating an opening for the heroes to deal with the Locust, or assist Paimon.

 

[Dovinique]

Dong Mei

Chaos descended like a malevolent symphony…
Each note a scream of pain… each movement a dance of death…
The world seemed to slow… emphasizing the horror unfolding before Mei's eyes…

It began with a deadly rain of projectiles. Tiberius fell first, his once strong form crumbling like a marionette whose strings had been cut, then Arrian followed. But it wasn't just the heroes who suffered. The innocent souls of the university caught in the crossfire of this senseless violence, those who were not able to hide nor had a chance to escape. They fell too, their bodies wracked by the effects of the poisonous projectiles, their screams of anguish blended with the heroes' outcries of rage, creating a song of agony that bleed Mei's ears and tore her heart. Above it all, Nergal's laughter rang out, a chilling accompaniment to the chaos below. It echoed through the air, a cruel maestro guiding the whole orchestra.

Her once sharp focus fractured like delicate vases hurled to the ground, leaving Mei adrift in a sea of emptiness. Even as Khatiy bestowed Ruby with enchantments to fortify its armor, Mei remained silent. Her vibrant smile was gone. Where once she greeted friends with boundless energy, now even the simplest tasks felt insurmountable.

At that moment, Mei grasped the painful truth… she wasn't prepared. Not physically, nor mentally. The weight of her comrades' lives slipping away before her eyes was a burden too heavy to bear. She lacked the resilience to hold herself together amidst the chaos of battle, to maintain a facade of optimism when victory seemed an impossible dream. She wasn't ready, not by any measure. It dawned on her then, with bitter clarity, why Arlux had kept her from the final battle. She was a liability, a hindrance to their cause. The realization pierced her heart like a broken blade, tearing away the illusion of heroism she had clung to. She wasn't a hero, not now. She was simply unprepared, a fragile soul ill-suited for the trials that lay ahead.

As strength drained from her limbs, Mei sank to her knees, the weight of exhaustion pressing down upon her. The voices surrounding her dulled to a distant murmur, their urgency lost in the haze of her fading consciousness. Her vision blurred, trying to shield her from the gruesome around her. Each breath grew shallow, as if the very air conspired to abandon her in her moment of need. With every passing moment, Mei felt herself slipping further into the abyss of unconsciousness. Her eyelids grew heavy, each blink a struggle to maintain even the faintest grip on reality. It seemed as though the world itself was trying to drag her away.

Yet, just as she teetered on the brink of darkness, a figure materialized before her, a blurred silhouette against the chaos. With hair cascading like a waterfall of shadows, he stood tall and resolute. His touch was gentle yet firm as his fingers found purchase on Mei's trembling shoulder, coaxing her back from the brink. With his support, Mei found herself pulled back to her feet.

…Mei…
This soothing voice sounds familiar…

……..Mei…
Dong Lian…?

…Dong Mei!

Once Mei jolted back to consciousness, the voices around her surged back, flooding her senses. The air, once thin and suffocating, now filled her lungs, easing her gasping breaths into a semblance of normalcy. Though she still struggled for air, the dryness in her throat began to dissipate, replaced by a welcome rush of oxygen. Before her stood the figure she had glimpsed only once before, her savior who had answered her desperate plea in her darkest hour. It was him—the one who had deemed her worthy, who had chosen her to be his champion. Her God, Han Xiangzi.

The otherworldly beauty of Han Xiangzi's face remained unchanged from their first meeting, yet now it bore a troubled expression. His normally composed features were marred by a furrowed brow and eyes that flickered with a mix of anger and concern. Since their encounter beneath the tree, he had never appeared in person, but instead communicated with Mei through his voice. But on this chaotic battlefield, he had chosen to walk among the mortals, standing beside his chosen hero.

"Dong Mei, breathe…" his hands still gripping Mei's shoulders, as if he refused to let her slip away. Cupping her chin, he lifted her face until their eyes met, a gesture for her to focus. "I know time is short, but you must gather yourself."

Mei nodded, her breathing slowly steadying, her mind clearing of its tumult. A semblance of peace settled over her, even though it was just momentary. With effort, she found her voice. "You're here…," Han Xiangzi's smile was a flicker of reassurance as he brushed a speck of dirt from her bangs. "I am always here…," he then looked over her, scanning, to make sure she was okay, "You look better, sweet pie. Come on, we have much to do."

As Mei and Han Xiangzi readied themselves for action, their attention was abruptly drawn to the valiant efforts of the other heroes and Gods, who fought tirelessly to bring down Nergal. Their hopes surged as Fel unleashed a colossal fireball aimed at the plague god, a desperate attempt to end the madness engulfing them. But their optimism was short-lived.

Nergal rose once more, his laughter spreading maniacally across the battlefield. His body started to regenerate at an alarming rate. It was a spectacle that surpassed Mei's darkest imaginings—her first encounter with a God, a trial that exceeded every expectation. Despite the presence of the Gods by the heroes’ side, Mei couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of despair. With Phoenix stuck to Nergal’s side, their efforts seemed futile. Each blow they struck only served to exhaust them, while Nergal effortlessly restored himself to full strength in a matter of seconds.

With no time for strategic discussion, Nergal unleashed yet another assault. A swarm of locusts descended upon them, their target were not the heroes directly, but the summons, including Ruby who was already half way fading.

"Ah..." Mei's voice caught in her throat as she felt her strength ebbing away quickly. Her mana seemed to evaporate into the ether, drained by some unseen force. With a swift motion, Han Xiangzi flicked his hand to disperse Ruby entirely. In an instant, it vanished, leaving the locusts to swarm nothing but empty air, "The locusts... they're draining mana.”

Han Xiangzi's fingers snapped with practiced precision, a command coming from the sway of his fingers. Mei felt a tug at her belt, where her jade flute lay. It wriggled with a sense of urgency, eager to fulfill its master's bidding. With a smooth motion, it broke free and soared into Han Xiangzi's waiting hand.

"I'll borrow this for a moment," he said, his fingers moving deftly over the flute. It had been a long time since he had played, but his muscle memory took over, and a soft, soothing melody filled the air. With each note, red flowers bloomed, encircling Han Xiangzi in a swirling dance of petals.

"This will temporarily restore everyone's mana," he explained, plucking one of the flowers and handing it to Mei, "Use it to replenish your own. Then, I need you to cast the Melody Burst on Nergal. Let's see if it affects him.” With a gentle hand, he returned the jade flute to Mei, his eyes reflecting trust in her abilities. Though he could have taken matters into his own hands with greater certainty, he believed in Mei's potential. There was no room for failure in this dire moment, yet his faith in her remained unshakable.

With a quick nod, Mei took the jade flute, her confidence shining through as she closed her eyes. In that moment, she poured her heart and soul into the melody she was about to unleash. Every ounce of her being, every flicker of emotion, every strand of mana, was channeled into the intricate dance of her fingers across the instrument. As the tune began to flow, Mei's body swayed in time with the music, her movements fluid and graceful. The melody, at first soft and delicate, gradually grew in intensity, its notes weaving a complex set of notes that seemed to fly playfully around her. To those who listened, it was an enchanting and whimsical melody, full of life and joy. But to Nergal, the target of her magic, it was a different story. To him, the melody was a chorus of torment, a piercing shriek that clawed at his senses with the intent to bleed his ears.

Interactions: Nergal Nessi
Mentions: Tiberius, Arrian, Khatiy, all heroes

 

[CasualTea]

Rohen Xiong, "The Mad Orca"

Interactions: Nobody Directly

Mentions: All Heroes + Nergal Nessi

All at once, chaos broke out. At the sight of an enemy, the party mobilized to defeat what was in front of them. Many used their fire attacks against the plague God and it inevitably started melting her ice wall. Many voices, her ears picked up. Especially those coming from her mentor Nel and the sultan Khatiy. As she used more mana to maintain her ice wall, its grew to a grinding halt and even began to recede. Thanks to Nergal's onslaught of projectiles that she was able to defend from and the flames her allies brought out, she had to double her efforts to keep it up for those who sought her protection out of instinct to be safe. The rather loud thuds of impact against her wall drowned out any communication that went her way, so it was only later when she realized the screams of pure agony.

As she turned around, shock was painted all over her face and a chill ran down her spine. As she witnessed those who were felled by the projectiles that were unleashed, she only then realized how they were laced with such a poison that it makes any disease she had witnessed thus far look like clown college. Their flesh actively rotting and melting off the bone, exposing internals they were supposed to keep intact and shielded from the outside world. Such wound would hold powerful effects even if grazed as shown by Arrian, the reaper, who also took solace behind her ice only to peak at a terrible time. Direct impact? Tiberius was used for reference, which made her stomach drop as she watched her more fond allies wither rapidly.

Her senses came back to her suddenly as she heard a particular sharp sound of impact against the area near her head. The next moment, a projectile came piercing through and Rohen moving her head to the side to dodge the projectile entirely. Her ice wall was failing thanks to the rising temperatures. She broke off from it and instead put up a terraformed wall of earth where her ice once stood. She looked around, everyone and everything was in a complete frenzy. While some kept their heads in check, others were reigned back by their deities and some too terrified to even move and couldn't comprehend the horrors in which they're facing in the here and now. Even the great Paimon, Eleanor's God, has seemed to lose his marbles. A good distraction. Was everyone always this emotional when fighting? Was she like this as well? She must be losing her touch since Arlux's death.

Get a level head, lock in, execute. With Nergal boasting about his only surefire defense from death, it's starting to get a little easy to take his confidence into account that he might just end up blinding himself. As she soon began to hear Mei's music, she was able to calm herself and start to take inventory of the battlefield. Four headstrong frontline assaults, two from above, one of them a sniper, three mages and a med-bay with ample protection behind them. All bases seemed to be covered. Just one thing that dawned on her.

That bird cage at Nergal's waist is what's halting their swift victory. The phoenix heals him and regenerates his lost tissue whether it wanted to or not. An attack formation is useless if no damage can be done. What's more, the locusts seem to feed off of the summons' mana. Dealing with those would surely by them time. She peaked around the wall and raised her left palm aiming it towards the swarm. "Incinerate: Reduce to ash and return to dust!" She incanted while releasing a stream of flames from her palm and at the locust swarm that hadn't gotten to any of her allies. She kept it up for awhile until it allowed the others some breathing room to work with. She retreated behind the wall before speaking another incantation but rather softly. "Concealment: Secret Tunnel." A large hole opened up in front of Rohen out of sight from the plague God. She jumped in, sinking into the Earth and sealing the hole shut.

A tunnel was slowly carved into a path to bring her bellow Nergal, carefully moving dirt aside and not altering the surface above. She controlled her breaths to conserve oxygen. Any water that leaked into her tunnel was moved to the side and the crack sealed shut and reinforce so no more water can get in. Based on vibrations, she positioned herself bellow the vicinity in which Nergal stood upon, waiting as she can hear the muffled sounds of battle through the dirt. She will wait either for an opportunity to steal Nergal's possession as he showed off his confidence to the world or drag him to his grave.

 

[LazyDaze]

AAXIR THE RED

Interactions:
Mentions: Dovinique Nessi (Paimon)

"When I see you, I see someone who is going to die. When I see you…I am happy, because this is only the result of you opening your heart, but when I see you I am conflicted because you will die because of it. Many believe you to be a prideful mortal, carrying a rage so dense you could swallow a black hole. I know better. You are afraid. Fear fuels your desires and you are allowing instinct to consume you to run from it. You are stronger when you are afraid…when you face your fears, not when you run from them. That is why…….

…Throw yourself on Nergal’s altar for all I care. I will not stop you. I will not intervene. As your patron god it would be an insult not only to yourself, but to me as well to step in when it was I who chose you. It was I who acknowledged you as worthy to represent everything that I am. Besides, you stopped hearing my voice long ago. Foolishly…I believed that I would never have to experience this again. After Arlux died you blacked out. Charged head first into hordes of enemies ignoring friend and foe alike in order to reach Tiriyan. Even now…I find myself pondering on occasion if you were that confident, or if you simply wanted to die instead of living with the reality that she died while you were there. Does this mortal woman mean that much to you? I can’t help but ponder such things, I am a jealous Goddess after all. If only I meant that much, maybe you would think twice before laying your life down before the guillotine. Aaxir…you can’t hear me, regardless, I do want my request to be known. You can’t refute it, and I’ll never forgive you if you deny this one request. Please…just this once. I, Tutu Pele, the most benevolent, bountiful, beautiful goddess in the entire Pantheon…am begging you…




please





don’t die my champion"


**********​

At this point in the battle, Aaxir was operating primarily on instinct, having nearly lost himself entirely. What would be left if this continued? He had to kill him. He had to be the one to kill him. Frustrated grunts from his failed attacks, widened darting eyes shifting to anything that moved, every inch of his body spoke without him uttering a word. He didn’t want to think.

What if….​

and it would go no further than that. Nergal locked eyes with him. Even in his current state, Aaxir could feel the chill of death creeping up his spine; however, Nergal’s attention would be ripped away by the other heroes until eventually hell would rain down on them both. The battlefield quickly became a sea of burning light as if it was a drop of heaven descending upon the earth to bathe the sinners and expel their demons. Out of the ashes Nergal would laugh unscathed by the might of champion. Out of the ashes, Aaxir would silently rise from a kneeling position, his body speckled with green embers, charred scales, and dark wisps of smoke emanating from his body. There was but one focus, killing Nergal. If he had to kill him 1000 times over he would. If this was hell and he had to battle him for eternity, he would. Now was his chance, Paimon created an opening in this indomitable embodiment of petulance. Aaxir, rushed toward a blind spot with his Obsidian Slab in hand raised over his head as if he were a reaper coming to collect the soul of a god. The blast from Fel, his own catastrophic magma, and any destruction he could culminate...Aaxir collected it all and planned to release it indiscriminately, even if it meant he would get caught in the blast with no plan to outlive the Phoenix. That was, until a solitary note seeped through the void that was his conscious. Mei's song, a strong rebuttal to Nergal's chorus of destruction, seeped into Aaxir's heart just enough to create a moment of clarity. Every thought, every emotion, and every recent event flooded his soul at once, threatening to overwhelm him to the point even the hardened dragon's glass eyes threatened to shatter. No, he would never hear Her prayer, but he could feel every word. At the last second, Aaxir changed his mind, choosing to hold off on his catastrophic attack and swing his blade diagonally through the center of Nergal hoping to cleave him in two. He had to reign himself in and coordinate with the others if they were to win. If they were to protect everyone. The embers of his anger and fear were still there threatening to expand into a burning maelstrom, however, Aaxir would do his best to fight on two fronts, Nergal and himself.

 

[Nano]

Enthyskana Rhoda

Interactions: Nergal Nessi

Mentions: Aaxir LazyDaze Mei Dovinique

Fire. The ground below was awash in a sea of flames, consuming the fetid vessel of the god of pestilence. Violently—mercilessly—tossing Nergal about in his own personal crematorium until Enthy could smell the bone ash crumbling away from burnt flesh. Nary a scream escaped from the god’s mouth, nor did an iota of concern ever seem to cross his twisted visage, instead embracing the display of power as if reveling within such an onslaught were a favorite pastime of his. There he stood, entirely unphased by the attacks of the heroes. By his waist, he suppressed his prisoner within a golden birdcage, taunting the heroes as he perverted the powers of a deity who had once stood by their side as an ally.

Enthy held her breath, willing away the painful thrum of hot blood rushing past her eardrums that threatened to force the spell prepared within her hand to fizzle away into a harmless spark. She couldn’t afford to be distracted, not by Nergal’s perverse glee or by the locusts that had begun to swarm the summons in droves.

A familiar melody from below soothed the angry instincts threatening to cloud her actions, wrapping her within a balm for the soul which both invigorated her with the surging pulse of mana and pointed her focus back on the target at hand. Paimon pushed the plague god on the defensive, while Aaxir gave the animated corpse a mighty sweep of his blade. Taking the opportunity to push the initiative, Veritas struck out with his blade, swordtip extending past its normal reach and snaking past the red dragon and the Eternal King. As his sword aimed to bite into Nergal’s shoulder, golden chains would burst out from the earth below, reaching out to condemn the plaguebearer.

Only then did Enthy strike.

“Heed my call.”

For a brief moment, the dragon hesitated, questioning whether or not it was wise to utilize a recently learned spell that had never seen use in real combat. She knew her usual tricks wouldn’t work, and the bitter taste of repeated defeats had drilled in the fact that her careless manner of throwing out her magic and relying on the size of each beam would only hurt her in this battle. If things didn’t go as expected…

A breath. Then, Enthy raised the hand bearing the golden sphere high into the sky.

“Threads of the Flamebearer,”

she said softly but with determination holding her voice steady.

Slowly, tendrils of light eased their way out from the golden sphere, gradually coalescing into three concentrated beams of fire. They split away and began their descent, spiraling and picking up speed until the curve of their trajectory pointed their way toward the plaguebearer embroiled in conflict below. Though the heat radiating from each beam could be felt by all they passed by, the beams curved around those near Nergal, converging upon his side where the golden birdcage hung.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Polux, The Warden Of The Outer Night

There was a crack. Ear-splitting as Nergal's rot-lined mace crashed into Polux, the night-armoured titan was driven hard into the ground, helm split. The crimson-starred inferno of his eyes scorched and purified the disease-ridden dirt that Nergal plagued, his fists clenched with manic rage, but Polux's movements were arrested before they were made, as svelte, sick-slick fingers slithered over the dreadnought's gorget, lifting him as though he weighed as little as a black feather. His smouldering eyes, which did mirror the red stars in their feverish fury, fixed the Plague God's haughty features, even as the mystical projectiles impacted his back, their potency shattered against his mountainous back in bright flashes of light which threw his black armour in deeper shadows. His helm seals, metal screeches, mending shut. His brutal form is then tossed aside, sent across the field, skidding, crushing dirt and grass and stone in his wake. The Night's Warden did not hesitate, unburdened from mortal frailties, his limbs turned in a grating, rugged motion. His lower half rotate entirely, heels striking the ground, the titan rose, bending into an upright position. His torso spins, scraping like great glaciers of hard metal, and Polux sees the mad God again.

The wind screamed, leaved branches judder and creak, made mad by the divine and unholy, the very air itself electrified with Godly power. But as the mortal plains quaked with energies dragged up by the wills of those around, the dreaded heavens above would appear serene, tranquil. Dead. A sheet of pure, inky blackness dominated the sky above — a black, jagged maw didst devour all the twinkling stars, leaving only two to gleam in the hard darkness of the firmament above, too bright to be far-away moons, too wrathful to be burning stars. Suffusing the lands with their icy gaze, cutting deep to the bedrock below.

Then came the blazing sea; dozens upon dozens of beams surging forwards in violent tides, igniting ablaze all in their path. Their molten wrath slammed into Polux's dreadful bulk, fiery plumes lapped at his form, but the anger inside burned hotter than the flames without, but his wicked visage remained undisturbed in the swirling chaos of the Sun Elf's destruction magnificence. Awash as he was in the sea, the titan took steps, sabatons quaking the ground underfoot like he summoned thunderclaps with each step, swiveling slightly to see that Tiberius had indeed still been protected.

It ended, emerald lands made black and lifeless. But Nergal's vessel brushed away such a devastating display, his body already knitting itself anew. In his arrogance, his lips moved and revealed the source of his regenerative boon. From here, Polux could see the God's face, it had a leanness to it, so haughty and cruel, eyes alight with the delight of their plight.

He charged. In a moment, Polux's outline had been there and then gone in the silken folds of darkness, vanishing as if he never truly there. Seeing the opportunity wrought about by Lord Paimon's assault.

Silently, he struck out; wicked gauntlets going out to snatch Nergal, one at the back of his neck and the other at his head. Polux would try to flatten his skull, shatter his neck, but that had not been his goal — arrest his movements, let the rest, his friend's companions, deal the blows. For now, it was their turn.

Interactions: Nessi (Nergal, Paimon)
Mentions: Heroes.

 

[DSLIX]

Chrome Van Der Linde

Chrome merely moved out the way as Nergal started repelling most of his companions attacks, which causes him to notice the little to no physical damage Nergal was taking until hit by Fel's powerful fire magic and Nel's flames of destruction nearly burned Nergal into a pile of melting flesh. To no avail though, as Nergal seemed to regenerate the damage only a minute after receiving it. Chrome was quick to move to go over to Pollux position but merely smirked when seeing the iron giant disappear into darkness, he started now rushing towards Arran while also listening in between Paimon and Nergal. As Chrome rushes to get Arrian back up as well he hears about the phoenix Nergal is using to regenerate, and smirks as now Chrome already has his goal in mind. Chrome rushes over to Arrian quickly observing his friend for any wounds before smirking and saying "Nothing's gonna pierce that skin of his unless you use THAT spear. I don't suggest throwing it though unless he can't block it so let's see if you've been practicing the fundamentals solider." Chrome's iron armor melts down around him back into blood before forming into a sleek and long iron spear which he twirls in his hand to show off slightly before before noticing the large swarm of locusts swarming the backline support summons. He scoffed and flung the spear at the swarm of locusts watching it twirl through the air and cut a line through the formation of the locust. Chrome then waved his hand casually mumbling the word "Flame" as the iron spear reached the middle of their formation. The iron spear suddenly bursts out into a bright flame that engulfs about half of the whole swarm of locusts in a flash. Chrome then swipes his hand out in front of him and guides the flames towards the rest of the swarm looking to engulf it whole in his flame. When he feels his mana suddenly refill from Mei's efforts he smirks maliciously as he activates his Adrenaline Rush and leaps towards the swarm in a blur with a sadistic grin on his face as he says "Flame" while throwing a fist towards the swarm. Soon as he mutters the word a huge wave of fire engulfs the swarm of locusts in front of him reaching out so far that the heat of the flames could be felt by his nearby allies in the backline.



Chrome lands on the ground nearby Mei and mouths over a ‘Thanks’ before flying up into the air to get a nice overview of the battlefield before holding his hand up like a finger gun. Blood starts slowly pooling out of Chrome’s fingers morphing into a long and sharp iron spear before he says “Bang.“ The spear launches forward like a bullet in the wind seemingly being inaccurate as it headed for Paimon’s back instead of Nergal’s. A simple flick of his wrist though Chrome redirects the spear to swerve around Paimon and aim to pierce Nergal’s foot in a instant. While controlling the spear from afar Chrome makes sure to focus his breathing to slowly recharge his spent mana using his mana breathing, and watching the field for any decisive traps or attacks that may be set up by Nergal.



Nessi Dovinique Midrick Worthlessplebian