Turyn

Kingdom of Lyranth,
Previously

The air itself quakes, the ground beneath the party cracks, portions of the city disappear into a dark void while a single, ominous orb hovers high hung in the sky over the keep. The paved stone work of the roadways begin to crumble at the last edges of existence, leaving the five heroes standing a ways away before gleaming doors of ivory that sit at the very top of the stairs, what was once the entrance to the castle itself. Beyond the falling world, that which is no longer stable, other islands in time and existence made up of the realm seem to drift ever nearer toward the great annihilating sphere above; each piece of debris that falls up and into it only grows the frightening sight larger and apparently cease to exist.

The capitol of Turyn is, in its essence, almost no more and certainly all of the world beyond it; all fallen into the Kingdom of Darkness.

Multiple shadows creep in from the edges of the darkness, almost slipping down the stone steps before the heroes and manifesting in their faceless, emotionless forms. As with these creatures before, these ones seem quite small, but what is more troubling is that some tremendous black form has begun to seep from the very doors at the height of the stairs. Blotting out the lone ivory surface and their faint glinting of light, it begins to amass into a titanic being. Its immense, long appendages draw out and soon its roughly humanoid figure becomes complete, almost as though it were a man without decided features. It is perhaps the largest beast the company has ever seen, as large as a building and with dim, glowing eyes of purple that flare to life as they sweep over the decaying landscape and fall upon those last few sworn to the light.

It reaches out with an arm and commands the shadows before it to spring to life. Almost within reach, the small hunched over beasts set about, ready to attack, their shadowy claws at the ready and their beady purple stare intensifying.

Yet, without any word, the leviathan rumbles the air, shaking those present to their core in a manner that might suggest laughter and draws together its great palms, conjuring dark energy between them that flashes and pulses with purple lightning and fragments of the debris being sucked into the void. Casting some form of chaotic magic, one can only reason by its size the spell will have great consequence on wherever it might land.

During this, debris of what little remains of the town continues to fly violently through the air as the world continues its methodical collapse into the sphere, the edges eroding away slowly in this process. Urgency, the need to reach the doors to banish the darkness back to wherever it has come from, is the moment. However, the grand arcanist Shujaat and the sorcerer Ruron to have joined the party here are nowhere to be found, perhaps lost to the darkness...

... but there is no time to delay.


@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda

The end times were here. That much Theodore could tell, although he had never imagined for it all to happen quite this fast. Had the people only listened to the word of the faithful, perhaps this could have been averted. But now the only option they had was to push towards the root of this problem, to the sphere that hung in the sky, devouring all creation into itself. The presence of the Darkness caused the Aasimar to recoil in disgust. And that feeling did not get any better once he saw the big creature.

It stood upon the stairs to the keep, a keep which would yield to the Darkness as well as the rest of the world. The group was already running out of space with the plane they stood on being devoured one second after another... the only way forward was to fight. Theodore smirked under his mask as he brought his right hand onto it. No matter how imposing the foe was, it was a creature of darkness. And those had no place existing where a templar stood.

Theodore removed his mask from his face and attached it to the side of his bolt case, a small mechanism within clicked as it unlocked the latch that kept the bolts inside and took hold of the mask. As he pulled his crossbow onto his arms, more threats appeared before their very eyes. The massive behemoth of an adversary has spawned in more shadows. Had it not been simultaneously casting something massive, Theodore might have taken it for a weakling. As things were, he quickly formed his own strategy within his head: That creature had to be their priority in this combat.

The first thing to do was to clear a path to it and that was what Theodore set his mind to. He knew that with this shadow at his feet, he would not get to move freely, but it was a risk he would have to take. Otherwise it would throw off his aim, and that he just couldn't work with. The ranger broke into a short sprint, making distance between himself and all the nearby shadows, but soon he could feel spectral claws digging into his heel. It stung, but he could be glad to know there would be no wounds to slow him down later. "Clear the path, we need to stop whatever that big thing is planning to do!" he shouted over the sounds of cracking stone and booming... laughter?

A bolt found its way onto the prepared crossbow with the aid of Theodore's fingers. It was prepared to do what any bolt within the case was built for: To strike down the enemies of the Kingdom of Light. Before sending the piece of ammunition on its way, Theodore carefully pronounced a few magical words, infusing the bolt with energy not every bolt had the privilege of carrying. Then it was time to get on with his own plan.

The bolt was let loose, and before Theodore himself could even register his aim had been true, a Hail of Thorns erupted from the projectile, raining punishment upon the two other shadows that close by as well. The main target of his evaporated pretty much as soon as the bolt struck it, the thorns headed its way struck the stone where it had once stood. However, the ranger smiled as he saw another shadow being obliterated from this realm, freeing the path for his allies. The final one yet remained standing... but right now, there were bigger problems than that. The path towards the giant, as well as the doorway this "Shujaat" had been after, was now clearer.

It is a sphere of annihilation. The thought flew through Haemar's mind. A lightning bolt striking the very core of his being. It was truly terrible. He had some experience with objects of this nature but none of this magnitude. None had ever been powerful enough to tear what seemed to be the very fabric of reality to shreds. It was despair. The High Elf wondered if this was even a force which could be fought. How did one try to stop a sphere of annihilation that large and powerful? How did you get close enough to it in order to reverse its arcane focus? Did it even have one? Now was the worst time to doubt and wonder though. Now was the time for action.

As the massive beast appeared not far from them; slowing congealing like so much tar, Haemar turned his mind to the task at hand. He could not let the dull throbbing of fear and doubt dull him. He would need to be razor sharp to solve the puzzle of this orb and the guardian it had sent against them. His hand crossed his body and gripped the hilt of his grandfather's longsword. The etched steel hissed from its scabbard making a light ringing sound as the blade touched the brass mouth. As the blade cleared the scabbard Haemar grit his teeth together, producing a grinding sound only he could hear. With his senses and blood heated the previously invisible mage armor he had cast over him sprang to life. The armor that he had set on himself earlier flared into sight coursing with azure arcs of arcane energy in the shape of what appeared to be ghostly plate armor.

The shadows manifested before them as the beast before them let out something that might have been a laugh; if such creatures could feel any mirth. The abujurer did not let the beast finish bringing itself entirely into this world before he started to act. Words of arcane power hissed past his lips as his left hand swept over the blade of his sword. The runes on the blade sprang to life with blinding white energy that quickly wrapped the blade of the weapon and Haemar in crackling electricity. As the beast gained its shape before him he struck out. Haemar drove the point of his weapon forward and as it made contact with the small beast's face the electric energy surged along the blade and into the beast; sending it hurling backward in a hundred streaming tendrils of black smoke.

As the beast evaporated the hiss of a bolt flew past his head and exploded into a deadly shower of thorns, felling two of the beasts. Three down as quickly as they had appeared. Good. This could be done. Hope was not lost. Theodore was quite the skilled fellow when it came to those bolts and how he put them to use. There was not a better group to be at the edge of destruction with. The Templar did have a good point. The way needed to be cleared. Without another thought, Haemar set off. Dashing forward toward the group that Theodore had already softened up. The other's would need to clear the few that had been formed right next to them, he would get to work on these abominations. As he ran forward he knew the creature before Thea might get a swipe at him but there was little time to worry about preserving a small bit of blood when all the world was on the line. His foe tried to slash out at him was easily rebuffed by his magically shielded body. Claws leaving little streaks in the glowing runes before fading away as if it never happened.

Haemar came to a halt in time of the foot from the nearest of the group blocking their passage, just as any good fencer would. He fell into a defensive stance with his blade out before him pointing a promised obliteration at the nearest of the remaining trio. His left hand was held just over the crook of his right elbow, arm crossed over his chest. The fingers were loose and trained. He was ready to turn their blows with either blade or the power of the arcane. Adversity always made the young Eladrin feel steady and focused. He would not be caught off guard when all the world relied on him and his friends.

Fate’s gravity was above them, in the mold of a spherical void extracting life and light from the Kingdom of Lyranth. The ashen vacuum dissembled Turyn below, annulling the physical scenery, empiricism’s jig-saw pieces paradoxically unraveling asunder. Stone by stone, castles crumbled upward. Mortar filled the winds and the nostrils of the heroes beneath, begging a vibrant world to cement a vision, together, against perpetual twilight. Wick gaped at the puzzling horror, but remained perilously steadfast. Centuries had prepared her for this moment. Accommodating eyes witnessed the scattered islets aeronautically echoing Escheresque cartography and Dali landscaping; reality’s backcloth had quickly dissected into visual pointillism, with the abyss consuming but remnants of radiance and rock. The tinnitus of ascending decay meticulously resonated against the party’s armor and weapons to redeem time and dream. Each vowed to conquer this Euripidean nightmare dripped unleashed upon this realm.

“Behind sealed doors, the keys will be revealed.”

Her master’s words lingered in her new Aasimar skull out from extinctional recall, resurrected now with fickle substantiation. Yet, where was He? And the prodigy, Ruron? An empty promise filled an unspoken niche within the warlock’s heart, she had not previously entertained since rebirth. Though amnesia stained fragments of the recent past, the miscarriage of memories, forged of a former existence, recompensed in full fury, now echoed the possibility of disaster which befell her not only in a previous life but beyond the grave. Did Shujaat fail? Or betray us? These murmurs shared common ground: doubt. Her disoriented thoughts chattered like mischievous monkeys, prattling upon the purpose of the ivory portal now secured by a charcoal leviathan, affronting their mission. Its purple wreathes stared into the troupe’s collective soul, issuing taxes of despair. After a clap, the black behemoth tampered with the surrounding ink eroding the atmosphere, with murky concentration, harnessing a dénouement the cleric wished not to spectate firsthand. The beast mocked them. Yet, it was peculiar and familiar? The forsaken screams coalesced to generate a scorned cacophony of laughter, not from a singularity, but, as if, its war cry originated from the bellows of suffering children.

Each ridiculed its voice, with demented tidal waves of an acoustic sea of heretical mirth. The whispers eventually corroborated into corporeality before a respective warrior and also assembled in rank as a hissing barb, protecting its morbid parent.

Theodore, the first to heed the forecast, unmasked face and bolt upon the necrotic geists. His nearby spawned shadow cackled and crackled with viscous momentum, Vesuvian tendrils percolating inky talons against the pulp of the ranger, with no visible harm appreciated as he ventured slightly off to vantage better aim. After sidestepping into a better position, the cultist’s arrow was betrothed away from its mechanical string and finally married to its mark, exploding into a Hail of Thorns, downing two shades, leaving a trio of defenders between Thea and the muddy titan.

The Templar charred. “Clear the path…”

Haemar obeyed without hesitation. Sacrifice of their current post to obtain higher ground caked the name of the game into the high elf's cerebral sanctum. This mental chess match seemed obvious; mate the king and the contest would be over. His lack of trepidation reeled artistic flair, as congealed electricity charged through steel and hopeful stance into the silhouette, concreting its shattering demise.

The Celestial, likewise, curdled a sneer. “Let me take a stab, Theo.”

Wick’s shielded forearm writhed in a sadistic smile, as its fingers procured a petrified eye of newt, one lost among many from the belt pouches adjacent to the scabbard of her sickle. The palm compressed the component as she concentrated on a magical couplet. Her feet just needed to enter the spells’ scopes first. Forgoing safety, her manipulative crusade stemmed recklessly into the fray. Emanating from her blanche cloak, her furious stomps aloft stairs paired her righteous anger, a holy angst teeming from a millennium of formulation and practice. Once the criterion of distance was met, she raised the arcanist’s gift, a dim gem embedded in a quarterstaff. Praying to the Light and locking her enthralling gaze with that of the vast vice’s violet beads, before the prophetic entrance, her frenzied scream harmonized with the feverish chaos all around.



@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @The Harbinger of Ferocity, @Zverda

Chocolate brown eyes scanned the battlefield, the creatures before her giving her no indication that hinted towards it's origins, only proving to annoy her... she hated the unknown. As she readied her greatsword, she let out a steadying breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment, just long enough to allow her to gather herself before those once warm globes turned cold. This was it, this was their enemy and their very home was being destroyed around them. She could feel the urgency within her very bones and could see it in the way her companions moved. She couldn't exactly understand why unnecessary words were being spoken, she wasn't a big fan of words herself unless it was absolutely needed and right now? Right now she felt like every breath had to be saved for the unavoidable fight ahead.

With her blade at the low ready, she took a step forward and heaved the hefty blade from its resting place, the diagonal slice cleaving the creature before her clean in two before it seemed to simply dissipate in a wisp of black smoke. Upon seeing Haemar only feet away from her she felt a frown cross her features, she was rather displeased to see that he had three of the shadow creatures in front of him. Before she made any move to go towards Wick words fell from her lips, her voice held an authority that her companions had grown used to over their time together.

Turning her attention to Cesar, "درع الإيمان," she murmured in Celestial, as one must as a Aasamir Paladin, a shimmering field surrounding the male. She wanted to ensure that her friends were taken care of, and this alone should do well enough to add some protection to their Bard.

Turning her attention forward, she rushed past Haemar, her eyes full of worry for one of the men who helped her out of the darkness that had once swallowed her very existence. He would be ok though, she knew this to be a fact as he always seemed to have something up his sleeve to ensure he was able to avoid any serious danger. Having followed Wick's steps the best she could, Thea finally came to a stop and took up a protective stance in front of the Female.




@Gordian Nought@Big Dread@Hekazu@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Cu Chulainn@JBRam2002

Cesar Lorenzo Tidesong Bolivar
Turyn, en la oscuridad

@Zverda@The Harbinger of Ferocity@JBRam2002

Now, you're probably wondering... how did we end up in this mess? Well, that's a long story... It started with the end of the world.

Cesar looked up to the orb in the sky, nodding his head to the side with a frown. He watched as it swallowed huge chunks of land like they were nothing. Whatever that was, Cesar is certain he does not want to end up being swallowed by that sphere. A dread feeling would wash over the sailor's gut- But of course, I made sure not to make it obvious to my allies that I was afraid! - as the darkness slowly continued to consume the world as he knew it.

It was then the diminutive beings of darkness began to creep in from whatever hole the come from. Shadows. Pests that prefer to confound their prey like wolves. There's always a few shadows they'd have to deal with. It's practically become routine. Cesar groaned as he hovered his blade over his sword. The sooner he took care of them, the sooner he'd be out of this gods-forsaken blighted heap.

Then it appeared.

A being of darkness, just like the shadows, but larger. Far larger. As big as a whale, Cesar would judge. As it continued to manifest its shape, Cesar's hand began to shake with fear. As its dreadful, purple eyes hovered over Cesar, it felt as if his own soul was being stared into. This caused the young mariner to hesitate, almost freezing with fear.

It only took some of Cesar's allies to charge towards the behemoth to snap the sailor out of his trance. The masked zealot had carved their path open, and his allies proceeded to rally towards the dark thing. Cesar had to swallow his fear and muster up the courage needed to help his allies, and lead them to victory. What sort of captain would he be if he hesitated while the lives of his crewmates were on the line?

What sort of man would he be to his father if he let his friends die under his watch?

Cesar took a gulp, shaking his head. He had to make sure all thoughts of doubt left his mind. He looked down, for a second, before noticing the shimmering light that began to surround him. Cesar looked up, to find the source of such a blessing, thinking the gods finally decided to shine upon him, for once,- which, at the time, would've been quite surprising, given the amazing rapport we share. - but that fantasy quickly died when he saw that the young warrior, Thea, had placed a shield of faith upon him.

"Gracias, lady Thea!" Cesar called at her direction. The shield further filled Cesar's confidence up. He decides to head on in with the rest, the only way to go being forward. Cesar stepped to the side of the Shadow nearest him, rolling away from its grasps, but not before a claw managed to land a hit on him.

Well, at least the mariner wasn't bleeding from it.

Cesar got back on his feet, and continued forward, but not before looking back at Katia. She was fast, but she'd practically be cornered by those three shadows. Cesar knows well how much they favor swarming a single target. He drew his hand crossbow, firing a shot at the shadow closest to the monk. Grinning as his bolt flew true, Cesar began to reload his crossbow.

"Vaminos, mi felina!" Cesar called to Katia, with a nickname he had given her long ago. "Show these ratas that moxie that I know you for!"

With one of those shadows out of the way, Katia would be able to catch up with everyone else, Cesar had thought. He continued his movement, towards the rest of his allies, preparing to provide he proper support where it's needed.

”Well, I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen.”

The words were uttered just moments earlier as the world seemed to be torn asunder. Katia had traveled for months, years in search of a place she could call home. When she finally felt she had found one, the fates deemed it necessary to send it careening into an undulating sphere of death and destruction.

There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere.

More importantly, however, was the new threats that emerged, seemingly from thin air. Magic may not have been Katia’s specialty (indeed, much that required intense thought was something she cared little for), but even she could tell that this arcane being deserved no less than their immediate and violent attention. If nothing else, the being was taunting them forward, goading them into approaching. And what could mere mortals do against a colossus this size? Whatever it was, they had better do it, and quickly. The sphere of destruction did not appear likely to wait patiently by.

Momentarily caught off guard by the massive destruction all around them, Katia was brought back to the danger close at hand by the -whizz- of a crossbow bolt striking the enemy before her. Grasping her trusty walking stick with both hands, she swung haphazardly. Before it landed, the words from her teammate echoed in her ear, and her focus returned as she slightly adjusted her swing, slamming it into the pile of shadow and sending it back to the depths of darkness from whence it came.

“Thanks!” she called out over her shoulder, whizzing off towards the next enemy. She bounded forward, following Thea and the others into the fray. Just before she arrived at the dark trio of shadows on the stairs, Katia planted the quarterstaff into the ground with a vicious howl, propelling her up to deliver a roundhouse kick directly into the face of the closest shadow while a free arm struck out at its nearby companion, attempting to rake the darkness off its chest.

“We gotta take out the big guy!” Katia called out, continuing her rush forward until she came to rest behind Thea. This was the sort of exhilaration she had been waiting for. The previous fights they had shared together were fun, but nothing beat the world crumbling around you as you fight for life and justice! Or at least, for your life.

Shame about that world though. It was kinda nice at times.


@Cu Chulainn@Zverda@Gordian Nought@Big Dread@Hekazu@The Harbinger of Ferocity

By the time that Katia sprung from hesitation to action, five of the shadows had been vanquished, one by the strike of her staff after it had been shot with a small crossbow bolt to which it recoiled briefly; moments before that, there were those slain by the strange burst of wooden shrapnel and had since vanished into the a gaseous cloud of deep indigo and faded, only to be followed in quick succession from those there on up to this moment. Yet, this all was not without cost, for the small hunched over bodies of darkness scampered to life after the advancing onslaught of those dedicated to unseat this great, mysterious being of black. In their heroic haste however, quite a few of them felt the bite of those dark claws, which seemed to ignore their flesh and armor and strike true to their heart.

It was always a chill thing to be touched by the darkness, like a brief bath of ice to the spirit so swift one might swear it never happened at all; only the hole in emotions and morale reflected the reality otherwise though. Being enough to fight through compared to say an actual flesh wound, the shadows' assault leveled its wrath on the arcane ward that surrounded the elf in spectral armor. In a frenzy of leaps and strikes, they slashed away at him, his ward, his armor and his magical shield, each blow glancing off until the spell itself buckled under their relentlessness and want to steal his light. At that brief moment, Haemar caught two of the small things' attacks through his defenses.

To all others however, seeing as the abjurer's attention was reasonably placed elsewhere, they witnessed the dark giant before them rearing back, great orb of shifting darkness now palmed in one hand; bits of stone work drifted past it from the fading world they stood in, falling up into space to vanish into the ever larger tear in the sky.

The purple flames of the being's eyes then narrowed down upon Wick, its ire and hatred drawn or whatever it could manifest for an emotionless thing, where it then hurled the magic forward like a heavy boulder. Despite its composition of nothingness, its absence of light, it moved with great weight as it sailed down and exploded upon her shield; the sole thing that saved her from taking on the brunt of its strike. The detonation showered the area in harmful energy that clung to them, those being the paladin, the monk, and Wick herself briefly before the spell burned off into ether. Another orb crackled to life after the first, cultivated within the giant's hands while it stood its ground.

Last and seemingly least, the most distant shadow of which had originally taken off in flight after Katia, came now running at an odd angle and seemingly fell into the back of the wizard as he busied himself with fending off the rest of the horde. By sheer luck it seems, the accident proved to score a blow against all odds and the beady eyed fiend, worse yet, had no idea how lucky it had been. It only seemed to blink and hop back to its feet, ready again to fight.


@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda

Theodore was happy to see his allies moving to fulfil a similar plan, everyone seemingly wanting to strike at the behemoth at the top of the stairs as soon as possible. Before he could get a move on himself, he did notice that one of his companions was getting swarmed by the shadows, many of them failing to even scratch the abjurer through his magical protection, but nevertheless some of them seemed to manage said feat. Before the ranger got a move on, he yelled at Haemar: "Do you need any help with that?"

The reply came back negative, which in turn only had Theodore raise a thumbs up in response. It was both a sign of understanding and wishing of good luck, but he didn't keep it up for too long. He had an opponent to assault. The big thing had already tossed one of the balls it had been forming, so it was not quite as destructive as he had feared. He'd still rather avoid taking a direct hit from that if possible, but all he could currently wish for was for the giant shadow to not pay too much attention to him.

He climbed the stairs for about twenty feet, remaining slightly behind the front line his allies had formed, all the while cranking the reloading handle on his weapon. Had it not been crank operated, there was no way he could have shot it as often as he did, that much he had to admit. He raised his right hand before his face, pointing his forefinger and middle finger towards his eyes, then at what he could only assume were the leviathan's. "Marked for the kill", he declared mostly to himself as he placed another bolt onto his crossbow.

Trusting in the abilities and judgement of his allies, all he had to do was hit his shot. And that he seemingly did, with the bolt flying straight at his mark. By his own judgement, it did not seem that effective of a shot, but it was a definite hit nonetheless. At worst, this would turn into a death by thousand cuts... all that worried him about it was that they might not have the time to execute that tactic.

The shadows gather about the light. Flames flicker and dance in the growing gloom. Claws, bodies, and cold surrounded the wizard and dove in to tear him to pieces. They were always like this, skittering and weak. Preferring to swam and tear as opposed to rely on their own strength. Of course, this made perfect sense. The beast were small and weak unlike the foe they faced. They had no training or much in the way of tactics; unlike the bound group who faced them. They would gather and be banished by the Light as all Darkness was.

Haemar played his part of the flickering candle. His ally called out to him asking if he needed aid; thoughtful yet unnecessary. That thought might have been bravado from the minds of most people but the Abjurer was not most people. He had been facing these beasts for a short time and the most they had managed to do was skitter claws off the wards of his magic. He would have them break themselves against him in short order. "Fell the giant!" Haemar called over the din of the tiny creatures around him, "I shall have these!" his last statement was punctuated by a quick sweeping parry that brought the claws of one of the beasts away from his body.

Once the first proper parry was delivered the blade was in motion and so was Haemar. His mind turned to a razor's edge and his body adopted the muscle memory of decades of training. His feet set wide and moving in graceful turning circles as his facing changed over and over, facing each of the beasts in turn. As he turned his blade twisted and slashed, offending any and all parties that would dare to draw near. He felt his blood and his grandfather's steel sing as he let out a shouted incantation and worked the delicate motions needed for the spell to take effect. Even in stress his practice was what saved him. As he completed the words of power his body hissed with power and his eyes burned with golden radiant light. He would see them break on his shores.

He quickly placed his left hand on the hilt of his sword as well and increased the speed of his turning and swings. The blade hummed through the air, audible over the chittering mass of shadows about him. The sudden and wide strokes of the blade wove a curtain of razor sharp steel around him as he fended off attack after attack. They would strike him soon, yes. Of course, that was exactly what he wanted. When their foul fingers dared offend his personage they would feel the sting of righteousness and be sent back to the pit.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity

The young warlock’s staff, which snaked around a muted gem with its archaic lumber, flashed with slithering sparks of a thousand imploding luminaries. Twisted semblance of a glint of dying stars inaugurated from its arcane ember, a keepsake of Shujaat’s curious disappearance; its aura chuckled in radiance, favoring the new depths of an antiquated wood over its prior rightful place, as prehistorically merged with its seemingly lost mirrored half. Warmth encompassed Wick, as the rudimentary glow suddenly belched an Eldritch Blast, wounding the hexed Leviathan.

Screams flew, blending with a shattering city, drifting upward.

Raptured agony from the injured abomination was the finest vintage to accompany the visual feast of Wick’s Celestial sight. Their arsenal were consuming its numerous shadows, dissipating their ghastly presence in a contortion of splayed ether and wisps of smoke. Parallax soon entertained a field of faith, cast by her fellow Aasimar, Thea, over the briny bard. The musician offered, in turn, a crescendo of courage to Katia, while Cesar launched a mechanical missile at a nearby shade.

Alacrity and velocity departed a lion of its wake, as the feline monk sprung with haste. There was no shelter from her storm, as she rained fist, axe kick and bo in one hurricane of movement. As easily as the cleric could exhale her exasperation, the Tabaxi inundated her veinless foes with thunderous crunches of bloodlust, torturing them with speed and elated pain.

However, their enemy retaliated without remorse.

The abjurer was soon swallowed by an inky swarm, slashing and shredding against his ward. Distracted briefly by the frenzy consuming Haemar, the cleric erected her shield, just in time, ricocheting the darkness launched at her, to only splinter into meteors of sadness and melancholy, blistering the souls of a cat and two wingless angels with a furnace of sin. Wick’s concentration remained impenetrable, a penitentiary girded with tactical deliberation focused upon the dark giant at hand.

“I shall have these.” She was reminded by a wizard's words, that he remained ever ready with traps for those not weary.

Heeding the gesture, the librarian belted away from her friends, conjuring a boiling orb, glimmering with incinerating glory.

“Spread out, everyone!”

Slightly apprehensive that the monstrosity and its cunning would engulf those around her in blight and ruin, Wick dashed twenty feet farther ahead, allowing only the paladin still within her vicinity. Spinning in place thrice, she halted and lobbed the tiny discus of light against the howling beast; the momentum so harsh she was forced flat onto the stairs, while pitched daylight ascended to the madness before her. The promised scar would cut deeper than any blade. Her sight combed for the hurled globe amongst the floating cobble, the discarded enigmas of this world, seeking which would prevail in this spiritual brawl.

The attack had not been something she had expected, the ball exploding and causing small ricochets to break her concentration on their Bard, a small curse passing the Aasimir's lips as she kept her great sword from the ground. The creature was too far for her to do anything this turn, but that did not mean she was useless. She had a plan and if she succeeded, she sincerely hoped that it would bring the beast down if the others were unable to do so by the time she could get close enough to execute her poa. Moving forward, her steps sure but surprisingly unhurried as she approached the giant monstrosity that stood before them all. The good news? They weren't in any immediate danger if they could avoid that spell from going off and she deliberately kept about 15 feet between herself and the monster. Just to be safe however, she readied herself for a dodge, all she needed was one more chance and if she was lucky... all would be well. They needed that door, they needed to get out, she needed her friends to be safe.

@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Cu Chulainn

Cesar Lorenzo Tidesong Bolivar
Turyn, en la oscuridad

@Zverda@JBRam2002@The Harbinger of Ferocity

We were closing in on that thing... what was it called again? A Dark Libertarian? Ah, I'm not that good in words with more than three syllables.

Cesar watched as that gloomy giant hurled his blighted ball of shadowy fire at his allies. They don't seem to have taken any major wounds from the explosion, however, which is good. Disappointingly, the blast caused Thea to stumble back and lose her concentration on that nice shield she had conjured up for him. Cesar figured it'd be wise not to stay too close to his allies if it had another attack like that in tow.

And since they were all heading over to hit the damned thing, I figured I'd just sit back and support them from afar...

"Call this returning the favor." Cesar called over to Thea, moving up and positioning himself behind paladin before gesturing with his free hand, waving it towards the shadowy behemoth.

"You know, purple isn't a nice color on you... let's try some azul." Cesar had said, his words laced with magic as a pale, blue light surrounded the Leviathan. Through sheer luck, however, the large thing managed to avoid being enveloped by the glow.

"¡Hijo de puta!" Cesar cursed at this development, shaking his head. He needed to save face, however, and decided to give Thea a motivational boost, seeing as she moved in looking dedicated to smite the dark bastard.

"Hit that perra with your best shot! Let it collapse from your divine might!"

Katia shot a worried glance towards Haemar as the shadows began to swarm him, but quickly saw her fears were unfounded. The wizard’s skill with the blade was impressive, and when the weaklings did manage to pierce his defenses, they were met with an arcane barrier. With both the verbal response and her quick glance telling her that Haemar would be fine, Katia turned her attention to her friends running forward.

“Last one there is an ugly dog!” Katia called out before scurrying along the ground with surprising speed. She quickly overtook Thea, shooting her a grin as she passed, and approached the ugly leviathan. When she was within a few paces of the creature, she leapt into the air, bounding off one of the crossbow bolts that had penetrated its onyx hide and lifting herself to look into the creature’s eyes.

”Purple is so not your color,” she agreed with Cesar, a smirk appearing on her face before she brought the staff down to strike on what she hoped was its skull, then whirled around, swiping at its face with the claws on her feet. Allowing gravity to take her once more, she plummeted, her momentum landing her at the monstous form’s side. ”Your move, big guy!”


@The Harbinger of Ferocity - DM

Theodore's shot, though quite accurate, struck the titan before them to almost no effect; not a flinch, not a wince, not an expression of emotion other than its prior seething determination, spoken soundlessly through purple eyes of fire. No doubt that the blow did harm it, even a blind man could have seen that in his soul, as bits of black, wispy essence drifted off into the void sky above, but the being did not seem remotely hindered. Instead, it shifted its attention to the aasimar scholar who hurled a spinning disk of light, the same of which crashed into it with a burst of energy and exploded in a glinting aura, only to be followed by a few wild orbs of vibrant cyan that hovered about the place it laid claim to.

One might think the great figure more wounded between all this, but its sole response was to again pan its hand out before them and shudder the air with its mocking below; a voice from the beyond.

More of the darkness that ate away at the edges of this island of Turyn sprung to life, creeping across the ground until they solidified into shape again. Even more shadows joined the fray, another five it would seem, just as they had before. To their fortune however, these added foes began a small ways away - at the base of the stairs and hurdled past the elven wizard and his collection of inky, evil assailants. Flightily moving past the crossbowman as well, moving like a gang of fleeting hares, they set about after Wick and Cesar, leaping at them, but not without challenge.

Theodore's shortsword left its sheath and struck out at one near the tail end of their disorganized trail, his crossbow in the other hand and made a mark. Though the blow was true, the speed of the small beast saved it from being felled.

By very narrow margin, no more than a few hairs it would seem, the giant being then swung wide with one free hand and missed Katia as she sprung up to strike it; her staff connecting with a dull, soundless thud to its unmoving exterior and her claws tearing at solidified nothingness. Its enormity gave such weight with the blow, that had she not have avoided it, it might have leveled her clean into the stonework below. Passing by the monk, the leviathan's fist crashed into the ground and rocked the entirety of the island; bits of stone and dust flew off into the darkness and the retaliation was at hand...

Circling around the wizard, fleet upon their feet and dancing too and fro, the shadows' claws struck blow after blow against him, but the power of the light - the same he invoked from within - protected him time and time again. Each slash they made against him, raking at his ghostly armor, they only exploded into vibrant light and burned away. It wasn't until the last swing made against him that the elf realized they had defeated his magical defense. "Defeat" being a strong word, as the spell had absorbed the worst they could throw at him and burnt them away to nothingness. Magic was a funny thing like that.

The other shadows, those that had for the most part avoided the Templar's wrath for the time being, attacked first Wick; despite her disadvantage against them, she managed to block and fend off her attacks, being scraped by their otherworldly claws only once. The bard meanwhile, brandishing his sword in defense, stepped back and out from the majority of the beasts' strikes. Fortune still favoring him, he too found only a knick upon him that gave an icy chill through his body.


@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Gordian Nought, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda

With his gaze set on the massive being at the very end of the collapsing path, Theodore did not see how Haemar handled the situation. He was able to hear the few explosions from the shadows that had been harassing the wizard and that alone could set his mind at rest about that. Haemar had that under control. Thea, Wick and Katia all advanced, the latter two of which even got to unleash an attack on the giant enemy. However, this was not entirely without the enemy returning the favour.

Theodore's heart sank as the behemoth swung its massive arm towards his ally, but the fact she had successfully dodged it had him exhale a breath of relief. As he did just that, more shadows rushed past him. Just barely before they had all passed after catching him by surprise, Theodore pulled out his shortsword and thrust it towards the second to last Shadow to pass by. His hit didn't seem to quite kill it and it continued on its merry way towards Wick... who seemingly had fallen down. Great. "Watch out! Incoming!", Theodore yelled out a warning, but couldn't afford to spend any more time worrying about his friends. They could handle a few of those weaklings... as Haemar had requested, he had a bigger mark to go after.

The templar rushed forward, placed his shortsword back into its sheath and pulled out a new bolt for his weapon from the case. "Better make use of the magic while I can...", he muttered as he raised his weapon to align the tip of the bolt with his target once again. Not saying another word, Theodore let the bolt loose, letting it cut its way through the air until impacting the unknown substance this creature was built of. It seemed like a better hit than the last one, bringing forth a small smile on the templar's face. It didn't necessarily bleed, but it did look like they could kill it.

@Hekazu @The Harbinger of Ferocity @Gordian Nought

Awareness int he heat of combat is a strange thing. Often enough you can overlook something very easily. The small details seeming to vanish into the horizon while the greater issues at hand become focused as through a lens. As the creatures he was standing against struck forward and fell dead as payment for their aggression, Haemar, saw the shifting tides of the battle. His comrades were doing their best to fell the oily giant but were being harried by the smaller beasts. It would be his work to act as a shield for them against these horrors. This was a task he took seriously and with a great deal of satisfaction in his craft. In order to keep them as safe as possible though he might have to place them in some danger. Someone who might have been his former mentor in another life, Wick, had fallen and was being leered down at by the fetid host of onyx creatures. Her position on the ground could give her the best chance to avoid any serious harm while the clumped up nature of the beasts would make them easy prey. The Abjurer made up his mind with bittersweet resolve.

As his system of movement took another turn and parried a set of incoming claws, Haemar suddenly dashed to his left and then upwards toward the Theodore. He paid no heed to the claws that might have found him. His Ward still held and they would be jumping at him in desperation as he left them behind. His feet ate up the short distance to the Templar. Haemar stopped at the man's left with the vanishing edge of the steps to his own left side. "Two behind, I will deal with them shortly." he informed Theodore in what might have been a comically flat and calm tone if the Ranger were not used to the lack of emotion the Eladrin showed when violence was the course. "First though..." he began and sketched a quick and marvelous symbol in the air before him with his left hand. The motion of his hand and the soft spoken words of power from his lips left a cold blue sigil in the empty air before his face. In the center of the sigil looked like what might have been sights, locked on the back of the central small shadow looming over Wick. When his spell struck true it would explode and rain cold death down on two other beasts, leaving Wick free of their designs. That was, of course, if all went well and she was not consumed in the blast herself. He gave her as much warning as he could, "Wick! Shield up sister!" as the spell finished and flared to life sending a sharp spearhead of ice at the back of the central shadow.

Whatever warning he had given her was hardly needed. His haste and trying to warn her had made them spell compromised. His father had always warned him about exactly that. He would focus too much on the effects of the spell and how it might harm those around it. If he had just imposed his will on the situation and let whatever pieces fall he would have managed to save Wick from whatever fate might befall her. Now, he had perhaps only succeeded in getting the little beasts attention. If he had, he would count that as a success.

The spell flew wild and did not strike his intended target. The projectile flew high and right, exploding just over the right shoulder of the creature. The spell was not as stable as it normally would be and showered the three creatures and Wick in a small rain of freezing shrapnel. At the very least, he knew she would likely not be harmed much by the attack. Small blessings.

A flurry of small black swipes came at the abjurer as he broke from the remaining duo of shadows, leaving the one that managed to strike him exploding into light and its midnight essence fading away and the other almost keeling over from exerting its reach far beyond its grasp. They were not particularly smart foes, but beyond a doubt they were tenacious. They would follow you anywhere and everywhere if it meant scoring just one more blow.

And then came a startling explosion of crystalline ice in the otherwise wind whipped air, most of it clattering to the ground and bursting again into smaller pieces and racing past those present. Each piece, no matter how small, underwent rapid sublimation; the frozen magic shards reduced back to ether in moments and without a trace. As fortune would have it, two of the shadows caught the worst of the blast, while one other seemed to have taken hardly anything worse than a cold bath. In its own strange way, it seemed to shiver, as impossible as it was for a creature devoid of emotion or natural reaction. In either circumstance, despite best efforts to shield herself, the former elf that was Wick had no defense against the icy onslaught and too was bathed in the frosty magic.

Faint blue mist wafting from her armor and shield, it was clear that despite this incident she was still in the fight to come. After all, it would take more than that to see her into the world thereafter again. Not that she was in a hurry to visit it, at least not at this very moment, but it was safe to say it could have turned out worse. Much worse, for rather than continue to mindlessly attack her person, their rime covered bodies slowed for a moment before Haemar's magic dissipated.


@Big Dread, @Gordian Nought

“Wick! Shield up, sister!”

Reflexively, the cleric raised her forearm behind her head after noting the Abjurer’s shout. In the hallowed hopes of a fruitful barricade, the holy shell covered neck and vasculature, as Haemer’s wintry dagger took flight, haphazardly recoiling off hovering pieces of Lyranth along its stunted trek. The icy sliver mirrored their battleground, burrowing closer with its barbs into the pivotal skirmish, where a couplet of ephemeral shades loomed over the reborn sage. Muffing its target, the glacial blade detonated into a freezing cloud of bitter splinters. The chilled shards compromised her attentiveness and relative safety on the stairwell as they drove deeper into her flesh and the wisps of smoke around. The sharp twinges varied substantially from the achy torture the surrounding Blackness had pulsed into their spirits. All the same, her concentration became erratic, unable to focus due to the vacillating throbs, an arctic rip tide with which her nerve endings overwhelmed her mental focus.

“Body, be damned. Rise!”

The toll of morale and physicality were appraising ever higher on the Celestial reincarnation. A price she would have to pay, if negligent. Bequeathing her master’s gift into a crevice within the crumbling steps, Wick sprang up, with rage oozing between gritted teeth. Erect with maddening wrath against the dark titan, her anger no longer smoldered. A spiritual incense that once fumigated her stance under the scattering daylight now erupted into a savagery only few were privileged prior. The enveloped ferocity suddenly and swiftly vented against the towering chaos guarding the portal, striking with a vengeful force reminiscent of an odium unmasked.

Pivoting while pinning the staff underfoot, Wick thumbed the latch on the scabbard and unsheathed the sizzling sickle, ready to reap the pangs of abhorrence against the encompassed animus. Her miniature scythe pleaded in her hand, in anticipation of mowing upon the threshing floor.

“Soon enough.” Her smirk whispered.


@Zverda@The Harbinger of Ferocity

It was time for her to step forward, within a few steps she covered the 15 foot distance before her and the great beast, her brown eyes looking up at the monstrous beast before a cruel smile crossed her features. Even if she was not the one to fell the beast, she would hit it with everything she had left in her arsenal and once they were safe... yes, once they were safe she would see to Wick's injuries and ensure that her fellow Aasimir was healed. Hopefully this creature would be dead before it got a chance to target the other female again, otherwise Thea would have to ensure to heal her right away rather than waiting, she didn't need a creature like this taking out any of her friends, not while she was around.

Now toe to... foot... with the giant beast, the Paladin rose her weapon, the blade gleaming with the spells she had cast on it moments before. "Lets see how you do against the might of the Gods," she sneered before bringing the blade down in a mighty swing, the enchanted metal biting into the creature's form just before an bright flash of light erupted from the blade. If she was lucky, the creature's Will would not be as strong as her own and she would be safe for a little longer. However, to ensure that Wick would be ok, and would not have to deal with the outright damage that she would potentially have to deal with, Thea set herself between the Woman at the Monster. She would force herself to be the target if need be, saving Wick from any further damage, or so she hoped.

"Stay behind me if you can Wick," the Paladin shouted over the destruction of their world, "Allow me to be the focus of his attacks if he decides to strike whomever be closest." And at the time... the monster seemed to have it's choice of herself, or the monk who seemed to stand so precariously at the edge.



@The Harbinger of Ferocity