"Are you an idiot-!" Isabella growled under her breath at the nameless wisp. She fully expected something to happen, but for a few seconds it seemed like they were blessed with continued silence and peace. Until a low moan in the distance as something moved. Shadows moved across the lights, something shambling and shuffling their way through them. Erratic, unclear voices met her ears as whatever once was human made themselves known. Metal scraping against stone - shackles of some sort? Old armor? Weapons? Didn't matter. What was clear, was that that fool had made themselves known and they were now a target to...whatever poor souls these used to be.
Now would be the time to hide and observe, not hang around and get caught up in some silly fight such as this...and Aiv seemed completely intent on doing the fighting part such as this. At least he would make a pleasant distraction. Maybe he'd do a back flip if he died?
"Morons. All of you." She couldn't even say Dwynn was doing something smart, really, but she was at least doing the smartest thing here. Or rather, they seemed to share a similar mindset that fighting now would be a fools errand. That said, being called 'Imbecile' irked her greatly. Her? Imbecile? Bah, not at all. Dwynn was more and more reminding her of fools she greatly disliked. Or at least, she felt like she would. It made it hard to muster any desire to actually go after her...well any desire other than the desire to stab her. Repeatedly. Maybe do a few experiments on them.
Besides, this would be a pleasant test run for her weapon.
"Ah...I don't know about emissaries or whatever this foolish one with the weapon clearly overcompensating for something is talking about." Isabella harrumphed, brandishing her own sword. "But I'm just going to use you as a test run for this thing. Don't worry, I'll make it quick...probably~" She chuckled, grinning towards the shambling foes. She gave the sword a, slow experimental swing, the mass of black metal and tissue hissing lowly as it writhed and moved. She had to get used to the blade somehow - might as well use it on these sorry ghouls.
A hissing laugh came as Aiv made his rambunctious challenge, the shambling mass now stepping forward close enough to see them in the dim glow. The pale lights were sourced from candle-lit lanterns, mossy and creaking from centuries accumulated rust. Somehow the age-worn receptacles remained alight all these years, the half-burnt wicks burning mysteriously. Beneath the same lanterns were small bowls, releasing tufts of smoke that held incense of herbs noted earlier. Those who bore the lights were a small number of blackened husks of men and women, dressed in olden garb of dusty ceremonial hats and tattering fluttering cloaks. The designs, much like the temple around them seemed to have faded long, long ago. From a quick glance, there were only about a handful. They seemed to be leading the march, pushing and pointing with their light.
Following these orders were even more questionable sorts, dozens whose skin appeared like twisted overgrown wood. Their gray dusters and tattered leather coats lay tattered across their forms, pinned by the spines that protruded from their torsos. Pointed hats lay on their warped heads. They dragged all manner of weapons and arms as they lurched forward, melded into their morphed arms, no doubt the cause of the uncomfortable scraping sound.
One of them, the more 'human' of the mob opened his rotten mouth, which then dripping a black liquid.
"Yes... Yes, perfect! Stay were you are...! You bear the mark, proclaimer... but what you mistake is which one of us is prey... we will recover the precious essence inside you, yes, much like the others..."
Just at that moment, Isabella's whip-like blade came flying through the chamber into the hall, the heavy mass almost screaming as it plunged into the thick of violence. It seemed alive, like a beast kept on a leash. The blade head dug deep into the stones along the wall, moving unpredictably in the arc, leaving her nearly tripping over as it over-reached to find a mark.
Thunk!
As she wished, though perhaps not what she wanted, it came across and cut one of the twisted forms right in half. The blade, however, then sunk deep into the opposing wall as a result of the over-zealous swing in the narrow space. Was that her own strength? No, it can't be. Questions aside, the mob didn't seem to care about the splattering of rock and grime, trudging on without halt. On the bright side, there was a small dent in the mob of ghoulish followers. Or so it seemed. One of the lantern holders stopped and whispered something, waving the light source over the corpse in a circular fashion. The small ritual seemed to cause the body to shiver and compel, groaning painfully as it shuddered back to life. The two forms reached out, morphing as new limbs burst forth from them, new withered limbs dragging the parts along, following the light-holder like some sort of warped hunting hound.
"A pittance the Goddess chose you as her heralds... we are much stronger, more selfless... can't she see? Not YOU!" one of the holders snarled, practically spitting the black ooze as she threw a fit, "Have we not done enough!? No... haha... this is our chance, yes, of course. She must have sent them here to test our worthiness..." pointing a finger, "So it is. Kill the false vessels! KILL! KILL! Pry from their bodies the marks so that we may ascend back!"
The black mob seemed to gain speed with the lashing words, the shambling masses now limping as they hurried forth. Black ooze dripped from their eyes and mouths, growling as they raised their bladed limbs in uproar.
The dried-skinned preacher then reached for the embedded blade.
There was only a moment to act before the grisly hand would have it. That definitely wouldn't be good, considering Isabella was linked to the weapon. She would be a fish on a line, as it were. Isabella would be quite worn from her attack too, so making another swing to pull it free would be pushing her limits. She might not enough energy afterwards, maybe. This was also a chance for someone to assist her, if you can find the kindness in your heart. Troublesome as some of your peers were, sometimes it might not be their fault something goes astray.
In a rather roundabout way, the act of attempting to lure something hidden did work but not in the intended way. It was only a couple of second that he was waiting for any reaction within the murky disgusting liquid before he heard of voices. He ignored the insults since at first, he thought they might be friendly cultists of Nera, but that soon changed after the triclops taunted them and caused them to lumber after them aggressively.
"Better sooner than later." He muttered aloud. The first battle would most likely be rough, but it wasn't a forlorn situation... yet. The party had the advantage of controlling a choke point, they're in a wide area because the room is an atrium and the enemies were going through a corridor to get to them. However a complication soon arose as the little redhead swung her whip-sword downing one enemy, but getting it stuck and drawing the attention of an enemy that was gonna get close to it.
He yelled at the group quickly, "If you got a thrusting weapon get to the entrance and target the lantern holders! Bow guy help out! We got a chokepoint on our side, fucking use it!" He then ran to the redhead, gripping the weapon and then fully exerting himself with yanking that sucked free. He managed to free it with enough force that it snapped back at them reverting to its base form of the sword perhaps detecting it was not her doing the motion. However such force was used that it knocked both of them to the ground and it left him winded.
A breathy "Dammit" was all he could muster as he sat on the cool stone floor. He was already hyperventilating and that was no good. Both him and the girl needed time to recover their breath. Although that time was a luxury as he couldn't tell how things would go even with his orders. While focusing on controlling his breathing he notice that there seemed to be one less lantern light, although he wasn't quite sure as he wasn't counting them. If he did manage to smash one with the sword it would be one more thing in their favor.
Solomon raised in eyebrow in disbelief at Avi's proud and utterly idiotic speech. What in the... Solomon had briefly wondered what Avi was thinking before coming to the conclusion that Avi was in fact not thinking. Whatever those things were he wanted nothing to do with them. It seemed he wasn't the only one, however the blade-whip girl had no such qualms, immediately attacking them and leaving herself overextended. Though he was tempted to simply run like Dwyn he'd already decided he would help Isabella, as much as that was likely to hinder them in the future. Solomon drew his bow, once again marveling at the incredible effort it took to draw it back. He targeted the leader, the one monologuing at them in the hopes that they would either lose coordination or the will to fight entirely, thought the latter was more of a hope than a chance. The bow seemed to be guiding his actions and it felt as though it would fly true, he could only pray he could trust the weapon. The shouting orders was right for the most part, though he found the orders to be excessive. As though Solomon would just stand by and let someone die. The very thought vexed him and that anger was loosed in his arrow.
that was definitely not how she had intended this to go. She didn't even think she had put that much oomph in the swing. Bah, this sword was such a nuisance! Why couldn't she have something much easier to wield? A rapier or dagger would have much rather been preferable to this unsightly, cumbersome thing. But well, that's why she was doing this. It would be better to figure both her and its limits on something likely relatively easy to deal with instead of wait for something much worse to happen.
Thankfully it seemed at least the nameless wisp was at least somewhat useful. She was quite surprised, even. Perhaps he wasn't completely useless. As the sword snapped back into place, the force was enough to knock her and him both off their feet, if only for a moment.
"Urgh, I hate this thing..." She grunted, rolling over onto her stomach as she breathed. "Heavy, cumbersome...doesn't listen...unwieldy..." She gritted her teeth, slowly getting to her knees as much as her currently winded status would allow, supporting her weight on the blade help her back to her feet. Ugh, this was going to be troublesome. "Instead of shouting loudly, Aiv, try actually helping. If it makes you feel any better, remember Nera wants us to kill these things."
Speaking done, Isabella took as defensive of a stance that she knew how, grabbing the hilt of the blade with both hands and holding it in front of her at an angle. She needed to figure out how to use the blade so it didn't always do that stupid whip-thing it did. It could give her a definite surprise edge in battle against something if someone thought it was just a simple sword.
Jolting at the loud proclamation that challenged the bearers of light, Ihosha stared wide-eyed at Aiv for a few moments. Its skin crawled at the declaration and its hands tightened around the staff, trying to ignore the unsettling sensation. Glancing worriedly at the southern passage and hoping nothing had been disturbed there, they wound up sighing in relief as the lights continued to flicker softly from above. Ignoring the remark from Dwyn, Ihosha instead shuffled up towards the northern passage to try and get a better look at whatever was approaching them.
Eyes widening in surprise at the twisted bodies that lumbered towards them, Ihosha felt the urge to run well up for a moment as every little detail in the dark revealed themselves. It disappeared quickly though, fading with the initial surprise, especially as one of the “leaders” began to speak. The others? Were they not the first of Nera’s chosen? Or did he refer to the mutilated shamblers that seemed to be the fodder they left?
Musing time was interrupted as a familiar, if unwelcome, sound filled the chamber before the walls seemed to rumble slightly at the impact. Ignoring the others and focusing on the lantern bearer’s actions instead, Ihosha cursed under its breath as the result of her clumsy attack seemed to just be two slightly smaller, if no less dangerous creatures. “Gah!” A bit annoyed, Ihosha could only hope that the others didn’t tire as quickly as the clumsy one if they fought more carefully.
For now, Ihosha wanted to make sure that the lanterns didn’t work at a range though, or this would just be an uphill battle against the odds. Grimacing as the third eye cracked open, it became easy to count just how many lantern holders there were as each lantern lit up with the faint aura of magic. With a muttered prayer, Ihosha tugged on the small well of energy it could feel and focused on one of the lanterns.
Once again their third eye felt drowned in the presence of the light, how dim it might've been in reality, causing them quite an accute pain. But the number became clear in that split moment. Indeed, five of the lanterns remained, with only the faint trail of pale light signifying a destroyed other laying somewhere among the shifting and writhing forms. The smoke itself seemed to have some source of magic seperate to the light, interestingly enough. And in the final glimpses of the short second of vision, they also witnessed another peculiar thing. A darkness loomed within these beings, like a parasite having united with their flesh. It was not a physical thing, nor was it entirely magical either, existing among the bodies and flowing throughout them. It was like an emptiness, a void almost. These 'things' felt oddly familiar, somehow. Was this extra detail granted because of their dark gift? Only more questions, but so little time to ascern them.
Closing shut, the eye began to bleed some sable-colored blood again, throbbing from the painful exposure to direct light. It might take a moment for her to recover and use such a power again. Ihosha would feel a slight weariness overcome them from tapping into the truer potential of the ability, but not enough to deter them from doing anything else in the upcoming moments.
A strange feeling soon came across them, like they were being watched themselves. The extra perceptivity was not the only result of using the eye, it would seem. Though what that exactly meant was beyond them.
Hissing, Ihosha planted the staff against the floor as they reached and up and clutched at their forehead. Trying their best to ignore the warmth that flowed through their fingers, Ihosha coughed and called out, "One's down, just five le-"
Freezing mid-sentence at the odd sensation of being observed, Ihosha felt goosebumps form all over their body as a shiver raced up their spine. Twitching nervously as they pushed off the staff to fully stand, Ihosha took a few unsteady steps forward before she joined the others by the north passage and gripped the staff tightly, ready to fight against the horde. "Smoke and light are both magic..." Ihosha informed the others, albiet it wasn't as helpful as they hoped. They'd need to take a longer look to actually discern what each did, and Ihosha really didn't want to feel that dreadful sensation again...
"They seem empty as well. Consumed by blight?" Ihosha's muttering sounded uncertain as their grip shifted on the staff, waiting for the horde to draw close enough. "I can try to find out more, but can you "whole ones" hold them? The lanterns will revive any fodder you kill if you tire yourselves on them."
Seething in anger, the thinly preacher snapped her teeth at the weapon being set free.
But they could do little else but curse in vain as the elongated blade abruptly swung and slapped them to the side, crushing them into the stone like a spatula. The pale lights lessened visibly, though it was hard to see if it was because it was actually destroyed or because the others were stepping over the crumbled body, undeterred at all by the loss. It wasn't clear whether this apathy was because they simply lost the ability to properly feel, the mindless eyes of the mob staring unflinching to the violence, or because they were able to recover any losses seemingly at will. As to answer the question, a few of these ceremonial figures quickly stopped their march. They appear to be conducting a similar ritual as they did with another of their fallen comrades. Although this one seemed there needed more time and intricacy to recover one of these from the beyond. The flames of the lanterns now blinked, splashing speckles of glittering dust at the back as a low chanting filled the hallway. The remaining couple pointed their flesh-dripped fingers and the twisted mob charged their final stretch towards the party. The discomforting metal scraping reached a screeching climax now, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and into the diverging atrium like a deathly wail.
The element of surprise and stealth going forward must be long gone at this point. Shuffling and faint rumbles can be felt rising up from deep below as the temple and her maddened inhabitants began to awaken. May a path of blood be fitting for the heroes meant to reclaim a dying world, befitting for those who carry their very sins like shackles.
The two flesh-hounds spawned earlier lunged first, barreling at a breakneck speed alongside the walls towards the 'Unnamed' one and Isabella, seeing their obvious fatigue. The crawling body halves, though more like grotesque spiders, seemed happy to engorge themselves as they leapt with rib-jaws drooling black sludge.
Just as one creature was about to pounce upon Isabella, the other attacking in unison at an opposing angle that rendered it impossible to react for ordinary reflexes, a large black shard pierced through one of them and zoomed down the hall. That left only one remaining to finish the action. The sudden shard was produced from the wolf-bow of Solomon, which provided a greater effect that they, or anyone, might've expected. The arrow-spear brought the corpse like a wrecking ball into the mob, smashing a number of the twisted backwards as his intial target disappeared in the sudden chaos. The light faded noticeably as another lantern was, without doubt, destroyed by the impact. Even if his target were to survive, that alone was a great victory. An upcast of smoke and unsettled dust now filled the hallway, only a twinkling of the remaining lanterns left to illuminate the shadow printed plumes cast forth.
These weapons have more power than it seemed at first. But at what cost? The beastly maw had bit into the flesh around his wrist, siphoning his strength and lapping up his blood to use for fuel. He would suddenly feel drained, the large weapon growing almost unbearably heavy in his arms. Perhaps the bow component was some sort of last-resort?
@Everyone
Only a few of the twisted beings made it past this point, snarling as they rushed towards those in the front, seemingly unaware of the lapsing in their comrades.
Closer up, they were no larger than any other ordinary human, save for the disproportionate growths here and there, like aged shrubbery sprouting twined limbs and peculiarly swollen at other places. They appeared to be wearing aged garbs of leather and cloak, akin to old adventurers, rusted ornate blades and spearheads long melded into their hardened, blackened arms. Faded heraldry can be seen on the frayed clothing still pinned to their spined backsides. Only a glimpse of intelligence can be seen in their hollowed eyes, staring with a primal focus on the invaders. Though all sense of control or skill has been lost to them, the grayed husks reduced to swinging around the deadly appendages wildly, hoping to land hits. Getting caught in these wide, unfocused arcs would still prove dangerous, lethal even, to those frailer amongst yourselves.
The fettered smoke behind these separated blighted provided the party with some cover, but it also made it hard to tell exactly when more might leap out or how many were left. This was a good chance to pick off these few before the mob salvages, or to try and find another option. Retreating down one of the other hallways was made a possibility again through the guise of the smoke, but judging by the commotion beneath their feet, there probably wasn't anywhere left safe to go. Then again, the sounds to the East seemed quite remote and far-away, so maybe there was a chance. With any sort of luck left, there might still be pockets of emptiness somewhere in the massive temple.
Fully consumed by corruption, mad beyond redemption, the ravings of the mad prophet made it clear that Aiv’s words would not bring any sort of reverence or tranquility after all, while his companions appeared unable to comprehend the reason behind words. The halberd-wielder, it appeared, was already immersed in the shirking of her duty as one of Nera’s chosen, more inclined to run from the first challenge than to face it, while the woman with the whip-sword seemed to be so intent on falling into reckless eagerness once more, forgetting her own advice and swinging wide in a passageway that was much too narrow.
Naturally, the snakeblade lodged itself into the wall, and, valorously, the yet nameless one went out of his way to free it before one of Nera’s fallen could grasp it, and, expectedly, the red-haired lady still maintained her confident façade, even as the wolf-bolt of another saved her once again, this time from the onslaught of the repurposed halves of the monster she had previously cleaved.
Made him smile, almost.
“Try thrusts, Isabelle,” Aiv said, hefting the towering mass onto his right shoulder, “Harder to hit a wall that way…but you’ll probably end up doing that regardless.”
That was all jest he could afford now, as the cacophony of the ghouls’ approach reached its climax, the metal screeches sounding even as clouds of dust kicked up from that destructive bolt, the promise of ascension from the lantern-bearers nullifying the fear of death. Ah, yes, this was the situation he lived for. These were the monstrosities he fought for. This was his cradle, his deathbed. The fear and excitement, the anticipation and the dread, everything mixing together! His flesh-strength expanded, his mind’s eye opened, his ephemeral past sank while his hyperrealistic present grew before him.
An unnatural war cry poured out as naturally as breathing. The anchor-wielder’s advice was sound. No matter where they poured out from, the ghouls only had one entrance point, one that Aiv positioned himself at. As they emerged from the dust clouds, weaponized limbs swinging wildly, thoughtlessly, fearlessly, the white-robed man grit his teeth and swung in response, horizontally, aiming to smash all the latest arrivals in a single strike while they were still grouped up from emerging out of the entranceway.
If it carnage was the path they were to walk, then he would embrace it fully.
It would have been easy for Dwyn to join the fight - to charge in from where she was hidden in the darkness behind and eliminate more than a few of her foes. But something stayed her hand, made her unable to force herself to take another step. She was frozen, her eyes bright with fear. What-- What were these things? They were people, or they had been once.
This was wrong, it was so, so wrong. It was twisted, unnatural, frightening. She felt sick.
I can't do this.
Why her? Why not someone stronger, someone more qualified, one of the many warriors that had surrounded her as she trained. She'd never had the discipline to control her emotions, to silence herself, to adhere to her vows. Always not quite keeping up. She knew what she was supposed to do, that it was her duty to put her life on the line for the sake of protecting the virtuous. To give up on emotions that hindered her, desires that would take her from that path.
But she had never known how. And looking at these monstrosities, Dwyn did not want to fight. Guilt, white-hot and painful, as she watched her comrades fight for their lives. Saw an opening, more than one. Her instincts for combat, her potential had always been good - more than it - but her mind was weak. Nowhere near the godly champion a world like this needed.
They could not see the fear in her face. They would not. She would not allow it, allow herself to be judged, mocked by these heretics. These disrespectful imbeciles. These people who were so foolish, so reckless, and so much braver than her.
Dwyn did not admit her fear to herself, did not allow it to show through her careful mask of indifference. She told herself that it was a matter of practical concern, as she turned to cautiously head down the corridor whose doorway she'd hidden herself in, halberd ready in front of her to hold off anything that might come for them as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. After all, they would need someone to scout ahead, wouldn't they?
We have to know what's happening here, and I doubt they'd see the value in being sensible about it.
It would be a good enough explanation for the others. But it did nothing to lighten the burden of her guilt.
Isabella was ready to use her own weapon to defend herself from the corrupt hound as it leapt at her. Thankfully, it seemed like at least one of them could do there goddamn jobs. That left just one of them left - she could probably at least easily take care of it. And by taking care of it, she meant avoiding it completely. The redhead made an attempt to leap to the side, holding her sword in front of her where the hound was - if it did hit her, at least perhaps she could mitigate the damage somewhat.
"Geh, you don't have an impossibly impractical weapon!" Isabella rebutted with a scoff towards Aiv. He was right, though. Thrusts and vertical swings would likely be her best friend for now. At least until she could get a better handle on the damn thing. In fact - a rather neat idea came to her. She needed to see if it could be done - as bunched up as they were they it could help immensely if it could work. There was also the risk of tiring herself out completely, but, well, such was the nature of practicing something. Really, the conditions were as probably as favorable as they were going to be.
Before anyone could act, Aiv roared, lifting the heavy black pillar over his shoulder and smashed it through the air. He stood before the shambling forms that hunted them and acted as a bulwark. Whether his companions would aid or not, it did not matter to him. He sought only the thrill. Whatever he had been in the past, a true warrior's spirit shone through in his new body. The black mass swiftly crashed into one of the twisted forms, sending it into the nearby wall like a flatcake. Though it would tax him, Aiv continued to push through, carrying forth the rest of the fell swing. The cumbersome black pillar went wide like a huge club, parting the wave of smoke momentarily as the weapon took a group of the fanatics into the nearby rumble. Splashes of grime and gooey black substance splashed across him as they lay still in the murky pools. The smoke shuddered for a moment and returned to form, in a slightly unnatural manner, as if pushed by an outside force. Was this part of some plan? Where they plotting something behind this veil? Aiv might have not found anything particularly strange with it, partly due to his breathless state, but perhaps a more magically perceptive member might.
Other shapes quickly began to form within the shadows, signalling another wave. Though Aiv, without a doubt, would wish to continue fighting, his weapon lay unmovable in his sore arms. He may have acted such a way, but he wasn't the warrior he once was. His new body posed limitations, even an indomitable will cannot overcome.
Suddenly, one of the twisted ones lurched from the smoke, a spear and blade aimed right for his chest.
If someone else managed to stop the attack, it would spare the man from sure pain. The rusted edge definitely looked gnarly enough to leave a nasty effect beyond just the wound. Otherwise, he would have no choice but to take it, strained to the limit as he was already.
Meanwhile, Isabella was in a similar predicament.
The second of the two many-limbed hounds, this one being the reanimated bottom half of the twisted ghoul, went undisturbed in its attack onto her.
Isabella, still winded from her earlier action, used the last burst of her strength to move in a defensive manner to dodge the attack, making sure to have her blade protect her. She managed to get herself out of the way, mostly, but was caught in the shoulder with one of the flailing claws as it soared past her. Many hands meant it could reach unnatural places. The little thing clung to her, reeling the rest of the abominable, snapping jaws towards her pretty little face. To many, this would be one of her only redeeming features, being the avid troublemaker she was. Luckily, with her blade already poised, the redhead was able to redirect most of the creature and spare herself the facial reconstruction. She shoved it away with the flat end, sending it the opposite direction. But it left a nasty gash where she tore its grip. The way it collided with her mid-jump caused her body to swing awkwardly too, subsequently spiraling her into a nearby murky pool. Poor thing. But being in this pitiful, drenched state was better than taking a bite from the little chomper, that much can be certain.
However, it was far from being done. She only managed to avoid the problem, not deal with it. The creature writhed, swinging its many bony arms similar to how a spider acted when turned upside down. Eventually, it flipped over. It snapped its jaws again, readying for another attack.
It seemed bent on her as a target, but anyone can feel free to join this little 'duel'.
Isabella herself was only dealt a relative scratch, and so was still able to act normally. But the festering in her shoulder would prove quite concerning. Best not let that happen again. If there was a lesson to be learned from all this, ignoring these things would not be an option without consequence, especially one so fast. And with their draining strength, it was only a matter of time where even the most cautious action wouldn't prevent sure harm.
Dwyn would wander into the dark hallway in the East, persuaded by her own logic, leaving the battle with the monsters to her comrades behind her. Whether someone notice or not, or are going to stop her, that is still left unanswered.
Despite her calm demeanor, the girl was suffering deep inside. And soon, she was made to suffer more. In truth, this was not the first time she had seen the effects of the 'Blight', as she would come to realize. Dwyn would begin to remember bits and pieces as she walked down this shameful path, one guided by her twisted reasoning and self-assurance. Terrible things, indeed. This was not the first time she failed herself and her friends, not the first time she could've done something, but chose not to. What kind of guilt did she have buried deep inside? Whether she allowed it or not, the memories poured forth into her mind as she pushed further down the dark pathway. Her warped halberd grew heavier and heavier until it writhed and jumped out of her arms, the large blade-head morphing into a mouth that laughed at her. Or was that her own imagination?
Consumed in her own twisted thoughts, Dwyn had unknowingly plunged deep into the darkness in search for something, anything, maybe in hopes for an answer. The faint light was far behind her now, like a star far away. She was unable to see anything anymore, even herself. From what it felt, the soft current of wind, she was no longer cramped in the narrow hallway anymore. But where was she exactly?
Suddenly, a voice now spoke to her, far from above. A small light blinked on, revealing a small huddled hooded figure at the top of some ramparts. He was holding a lantern the size of himself. Was it because the object was large, or that he was small? It was unclear at this distance.
"You're not one of them, are ye? Ha, of course not. You're like me... sane, far too sane. Sane enough to run." the timid voice chuckled eerily, but a loud crash in the main chamber caused something deep below to rumble again. This made him growl.
"Ah, Damn. Dammit! You've lot gone and done it now! I was waiting for that patrol to pass by so I can move on to the next spot. Weeks I've been sittin' up here, and just like that, all my time's been wasted! Now the whole place is sprung to life! Who knows how many of those damn priests and their hunting dogs are running about..." the voice spat, nearly tossing the lantern in rage, "Augh, so many set-backs! Whatever, they'll never find me up here... Even if they do think to look up here, I'm too crafty for them. I'll keep hiding until I'm safe, what's another week or two... haha. It'll be worth it, in the end." the voice told itself, laughing again as he returned to a more stable mood.
Turning back to Dwyn, "Hm. Speaking of which, what are you doin' here? Only the desperate dare travel all the way out here, to the 'Corner of the World'. Bah, what am I asking? There's only one thing of value here. The soul of a 'God'. Lemme guess, you're one of those 'heroes' sent here to attain power that would save your dilapidated kingdom from ruin? No, a hero wouldn't run... Or did you wish to bring a loved one back to life? I heard Gods can do that. Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"
The hooded figure seemed to be deliberating something.
"Hm. How 'bout this? I came here lookin' for treasure, buried deep at the bottom of this dusty old temple. See, I'm a collector of sorts. Gets me by in these dark days. Not interested in all this 'ascension' nonsense that's been going about. Whatever you seek, it must be there too. How about we help each other out? I'm sure you ran because you didn't fancy being turned into a sacrifice too..." he chuckles, "Poor souls, happened right before my eyes..."
Orpheus was pulled downwards into the abyss, seemingly being dragged by his weapon. As he descended his persecutions of time and space began to dwindle, and he felt a sickening presence like the anguish of weeping souls. Slowly out of the blackness he could feel the claws approaching him, their very essence sending a shiver down his spin. His attempts to resist were soon found to be futile as the weapon pulled him closer and closer, he could only imagine madness awaited him.
A touch like that of a hand without skin caressed his cheek, crawling upwards toward his eye as a thousand others latched onto him, tearing at him in different directions. Flames felt as though they had been lit inside him and he screamed in agony. "This is all your fault. You have no one but yourself to blame." A voice rang in his head. A voice all to familiar.
"I am not this... this person you think I am." He yelled into the blackness feeling his words rebound and echo as if in a sea of despair. Every hand pulling at his body stopped and the fire concentrated on his head. They made a slow creeping accent to his face and began tugging at his eye, digging claws like rusty daggers into his flesh.
The voice in his head gave a cackling laugh, "Is it not you who would rally your troops by claiming an eye for an eye. A life for a life?" He uttered causing causing Orpheus to thrash. He went to open his mouth but the hands swarmed it tugging at his jaw, clamping on his tongue and crushing his teeth.
Orpheus awoke to the sound of battle. He quickly hopped to his feet noticing a man and a woman both about to be attacked, holding his sword he wasn't sure which way to strike first. But those thoughts could lead to death. Gathering his strength kicked at the back of the mans legs while hefting his sword up as best he could to stop the attack if his plan didn't work.
He could look upon the projectile fired from the oversized piercing one of the canine abominations with a grin of how damn lucky that was. At the very least for himself, there was no way he could react against the charge given how winded he was. All he could do was hope someone would pry the damn thing off before it mauled him to death. He watched as the missile not only pierced through the monster but also had enough force to send it smashing to the group of deformed cultists. Another lantern was gone and he hoped it was the thing that granted the horde the ability to raise fallen comrades.
He took a survey of the situation as he rose from the ground. One of them seemed to have run off to another corridor. The girl he saved seemed to be faring poorly as the remaining dog creature was focusing on her and she had acquired a wound. The guy who was moved to a corner as he was still asleep, was now awake.
A shower of rubble and smoke caught his attention. The loud mouthed triclops smashed the hell out of both the cultists and part of the area with his stick which was good. But now there was something creeping out of the smoke and it looked like something much more serious than the shambling cultists. It was a troublesome situation that needed to be resolved quickly. The anchor dragged along on the ground making noise and leaving a mark as he ran to that dog monster as he put his body into delivering a mighty golf swing with the intent to launch that thing crashing to the the other enemy.
Solomon let out a gasp that combined his pain and astonishment as the black shaft leapt from the bow like a bat out of hell, impaling one of the hounds leaping through the air and dragging it backwards in a tangle of limbs and pain that eventually extuingished the light of one of the lanterns at the end. However perhaps more pertaining to Solomon was that teeth that so gently enclosed his wrist had not so gently bitten down rather savagely the instant the arrow was loosed. If not for the devouring maw around his hand blood would surely been flowing out of it, as it was Solomon simply felt his strength draining away along with a dizzy feeling. The bow's weight practically dragged him to the ground and he immediately leaned back against the closest wall to recover.
Son of a... Now he was glad he hadn't taken that practice shot earlier, if he had it would've been unlikely he'd be able to make this one. Certainly Solomon was in no condition to fire another of those, lest the bow take his whole arm next time. It seemed he'd be putting the blades of the bow to good use since firing it half killed him. From this viewpoint he could see Dwyn wandering off. Solomon gathered his voice for a shout before slowly exhaling. He was in no position to tell others what to do, certainly not against their wishes. After all he himself had considered ditching this fight and making his own way out, it would be simply improper to correct someone for doing the same.
Aiv seemed rather excited about the whole thing, swinging around that pillar of his and squashing anything in front of him. However it seemed the black weapons as a whole were incredibly taxing as a whole and Aiv quickly tired, leaving an opening for the shadowy figured to exploit. Luckily the group was covering each other as a whole, so Solomon continued resting and getting ready to jump into the fray to help again.
The beast collided with her, claws ripping at her flesh painfully as she was knocked off her feet and into a pool of much and grime. She grit her teeth, not even caring or paying attention to the festering injury. Fuck this. Fuck everything. This was absolute bullshit. She'd have that reckless morons head that caused everything after this if he didn't get done in by the corrupt fools. She slammed an annoyed fist into the ground, using her sword to help her stand as she focused once again, on the beast in front of her. The corrupt thing only gnashed its teeth and growled as it flipped over. She took a deep breath, having to focus more on herself than her so called allies. If she could get to Aiv she could help, but she couldn't let this thing do its own thing right now.
She'd only really get one shot at this if she wanted to get out of this mostly unscathed, so she'd wait until the creature attacked her again. As mindless as it was, it'd be easy enough to deal with as soon as it initiated its reckless charge. As soon as it did attack her again, She'd make a swift downward slam with the sword, the snake like whip, hissing again as she dealt the creature a powerful overhead slam.
...maybe after this she should just leave. It would be for the best to leave these fools. She had given them a chance to not be complete fools, but they had wasted that chance.
It didn't take long for Dwyn to feel she would lose herself in the darkness. She couldn't see much at all, but something kept her moving nonetheless. It was more comforting to pretend there was no danger than to look upon the monsters that they faced; at least if something were to leap from the darkness, she wouldn't see it coming before her death. Better than watching whatever monstrosities awaited her as they tore her limb from limb.
But as the girl continued to walk, the only things that assaulted her were images. Images, and the oppressive, terrifying knowledge that she'd seen this before. That these monsters, or things such as them, were not new. And perhaps most frighteningly, that she'd seen this scenario before. She didn't want to remember, didn't want more evidence of her cowardice than what she had already.
Yet there was little she could do to halt the flood of images that assaulted her.
They were fighting for their lives. There were too many - too many monstrosities to count, and even their elite warriors were being slowly overwhelmed. She didn't know what to do, her spear and shield heavier than she'd ever felt them in her arms. Standing back, she could do little more than watch.
There were so many--
She wasn't on the front-lines, far from a senior fighter. It was her duty to raise the alarm, to signal for reinforcements. Her instincts were sharp enough to spot a gap in the fighting, a way to the watchtower where the horn could be blown. A death sentence once she drew the attention of their foes, but help would ensure their victory, for the life of a single squire.
It was her duty to cast aside her emotions, to act for the renewal of order. For a world of chaos could only be redeemed by the loss of worldly desires, by disregard for the lives of those broken and tainted by the blight. And with the blades of those willing to be nothing more than a weapon, wielded in the name of gods that had abandoned them. To be free of emotion was to be free of fear, of anger, of disgust.
A vow that Dwyn could never fulfil. A duty that she could not complete. An escape that she was all too willing to take.
And this world was not forgiving of deserters.
No, she was better than that, wasn't she? She wouldn't have been so pathetic, so selfish... Why not ask the others what they think, deserter?
Oh, yes, she was a deserter, a coward, a liability by every stretch of the word. How arrogant, to believe she was some sort of hero when she couldn't even face a single creature. How pathetic! Almost entertainingly so, and as if in response to the flood of memories, she felt her weapon becoming heavier, as though it was twisting, laughing at her. It felt real, hauntingly, frighteningly real.
Or perhaps she was just going quite mad. It was entirely possible, and should have scared her more than it did. The voice that came from above took a moment for her to notice, at first dismissed as a figment of her imagination. At least, until it continued to speak, and she looked up to see the small man. He held some sort of lantern, almost as large as he was. Those creatures-- Had they not held lights as well? It put her on edge, and she was silent as she listened to him speak. Was this creature a threat? Whatever he was, his words cut deep.
'A hero wouldn't run'. The statement cut all the deeper because it rang true. But what were the others?
"Heroes, or fools?" Dwyn mused, smiling bitterly. She wasn't sure if she could trust this man, but Dwyn did not want to face this place by herself. These monstrosities, these monsters... the thought of being alone to face them filled her with terror. She didn't want to die. Raising her head, she called out to the owner of the voice. "I have no interest in treasure, and even less in becoming a sacrifice of any kind."
A sigh. "So I see no reason that our goals should conflict. I know little of this place, but my weapon might provide some protection." If she could steel her courage enough to use it as required, that was. Dwyn had kept walking towards the man, hoping that he would not take her approach as any kind of threat. The soul of a god? She wasn't sure what that meant, what that could possibly mean.
But it sounded as though it could perhaps help her. Help all of them. From the man's words, describing them as a 'pack' those may not the only creatures that haunted these halls. Dwyn hoped that the others would hold their own for now, but if they were hopelessly outnumbered her conscience couldn't let her abandon them completely - or was it just the worry that the things might come for her next?
"So, all that being said..." She nodded after a long moment, deciding that any decision would be better than staying here to wait helplessly for her demise. "I believe we may be able to help each other."
The small figure laughed aloud, smacking both his knees. "Haha! I like you're spirit miss! Not anyone can be a 'hero', so why bother going about it that way. Better to be alive than dead an' rottin' in some book, aye? Some might call you a yellow-belly, traitorous cum, but you're just the type I need..."
With that said, the hooded man dropped a rope down to Dwyn, pointing the lantern down at her from the ramparts far above.
With the thin light shining more openly into the room, Dwyn was barely able to take shape of her surroundings again. She was standing at the center of some debilitated library of sorts. It stretched on either side very wide, like a massive rectangle. The large room was lined with bookshelves, some knocked over in a violent commotion, with others standing bare and stripped of their paper guts. Whatever happened must have been finished in a hurry, long ago. Aged tombs lay scattered in mountains around her, the lettering completely foreign to her eyes. It didn't even seem like a language anyone in her time ever spoke. The murky water was notably gone too. Wherever it came from, the foul liquid was not from this direction.
But what struck out to the most was the statues that stood between each bookcase.
Each stone depiction was of strange figures, some elegant and others more frightening, the opinion ranging on who exactly looked upon them and their state of mind. These were no Gods that Dwyn could recall, even given her religious background. They did not seem evil by nature alone, but in all cases, they appeared bizarre and unnatural, completely otherworldly. Gathered beneath each of them were old melted candlesticks and decorated offerings of bone shards, pieces of flesh, and other strange things. Some of these things were fresh too, leaving an vile sort of stench of blood and rot in the stale air. Not that anything here smelled that good to begin with. Speaking of which, there was a very peculiarly nasty scent further down into the darkness on the left. Though her magical affiliation was very low, she could feel some sort of supernatural influence lingering about in that corner of the room.
What sort of heretical rituals took place here? Wasn't this supposed to be a temple dedicated to Nera alone? If so, what were these others beings exactly?
Dwyn was free to take her time investigating, but the hooded figure urged her with a hushed warning, "Come, now. Hurry up! Your friends won't last long as a distraction! If they think things are bad now... these lunatics are far from being done!"
True to his words, a loud eruption sounded from the main chamber.
The spearhead missed its mark as Aiv was narrowly pushed underneath the point by Orpheus. There could've been a number of other ways to go about this predicament, but this was certainly a solution. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant situation, being kicked down when they can barely stand as it is, but it was better than being run through and made dead. Or worse. At least, that must've been what the white-haired man surely thought. Though the opinion of the person he 'saved' was to be determined.
A second blade came down, and another, from the smoke as the black-drenched greatsword moved into position to block Orpheus and Aiv.
They were now faced with a ghoulish snarl as a pair of twisted hunters pushed through the swirling mass into the open. Though he was able to withstand the initial blows, the continued stress as they pushed down upon him quickly made its toll. Just when Orpheus was about to give out, pushed down to both his knees and left hunched over the sprawled Aiv, a fleshy multi-legged thing flew overhead and smashed the two attackers.
The attack from the Unnamed anchor wielder seemed to work as intended, the metal connecting with a satisfying Clank! upon the unsuspecting reconstructed 'hound'. He would be left breathless after the swing, but surely satisfied with his handy work. As the action not only allowed Isabella to act freely, no longer chased by the stubborn thing, it also broke Orpheus and Aiv from their increasingly awkward bind. The overgrown men were sent back with a viscous crunch into the smoke along with the hound, leaving the large atrium cleared for the moment. Another source of the pale light seemed to be taken out by this, but just before there could be any celebration, another began to flicker back to life. It was certain now that the noxious priests have been using the guise of the smoke to recover their losses. The unnatural nature of the smoke veil was made obvious now, to all of them regardless of magical affinity. The gap created when the bodies were shot through closed almost immediately, swirling back to full girth as though forced to linger there. Regardless of these minute details, if one were to look at the bigger picture, the party was able to take them out faster than they were able to regenerate. So in the long-run, this was an assured victory. That is, if they were able to sustain the onslaught.
Their weapons seem to grant them unnatural bursts of power, but they also taxed the users greatly in exchange.
The party had managed to hold themselves against the relentless tide of fanatics well enough, but more than half of them were rendered near-depleted at this point. They would need to catch their breath before they can act at full potential again, otherwise they'd risk damaging themselves this early on in the run. The shadows shuffling behind the smoky veil seemed noticeably fewer than before, but there were still a good number remaining. And just to prove the point of their hapless situation, another pair soon stepped forth, giving the party not even a few seconds of recourse.
This time, one held in its arms a strange instrument instead of the usual blade. Some would know the long-barreled thing to be a rifle, to which it took aim straight down at the skull of the white-haired 'savior', Orpheus.
There was only a moment to act before a sharp click. sounded and a fiery explosion filled the entire temple.
A mighty blow splattered the foul ichor of his foes upon him, turning the initial group into mere pulp, but that wasn’t enough. Even with his limbs turned to lead by the exhaustion, the sheer power that the black pillar demanded, Aiv strove to answer the call of the next foe. He could envision it clearly in his mind, the next smooth, destructive motion.
But his body refused the call regardless, muscles screaming with agony at just how little stamina he had. Powerful, but exhausting. And now, open to a counterattack, Aiv could only hope for assistance as another scepter of a forgotten era left from the fog, a blade outstretched. Moments before visceral impact, a strike in the legs toppled him backwards, that rusty blade centimeters away from his face as he fell, before the clang of rained blows sounded.
Unpleasant. That was the sensation that seeped into his mind like a festering bolt. Someone else protecting him. A debt to be paid.
Paid immediately.
Aiv didn’t even think as that miniature cannon emerged from the folds of the fog, acting immediately with what strength was recovered in his bones. The writhing pillar shifted itself ever so slightly in front of both him and Orpheus, moments before the cacophonous roar sounded. Even shielded, the two were sent tumbling back, a concussive force knocking him further along the ground before he pushed himself up, ears ringing, red eyes alive. There was pain now. The dull throb of his entire body to the sharp wetness originating from his right side, crimson staining Nera’s white robes. His heart beat accelerated, the adrenaline turning pain into pleasure, every part of his body thrumming with lifeblood.
Beside him, the black pillar remained unbroken, still writhing like a living thing, but it no longer grabbed his attention. His eyes were elsewhere now, searching for a different weapon. A lighter one. The explosive strength provided by Nera’s gift was wonderful, but if they were to push back the scourge, they required something else. Weapons that didn’t cripple them in a single swing.
A part of him knew, then, that the handcannon had to be reclaimed.
The ringing persisted in his ears, but Aiv shouted out despite that. “Grab that cannon! We’ll need it!”
What the light revealed wasn't reassuring to Dwyn, who paused, looking around the room fearfully. Those statues... what were they? They seemed sacred, but those were no gods - not even any devils she could recall. Creatures, then. Or some other false idol. They didn't frighten her as such, or seem to be much of a threat, but they were confusing. Perhaps it would be better if she stopped trying to understand this place altogether.
Nera told us the gods were dead, did she not?
And whatever these depicted, their subjects were far from human. Tentatively, she took a step closer to the nearest one, her eyes widening at the sight of the 'offerings' presented. Flesh and bone, which, as sacrifices went, wasn't particularly unexpected - but, upon looking closer, Dwyn felt doubt cross her mind. For she had seen no-one else in this chamber, no monster or man except that stranger...
Yet the familiar stench of blood and rot hung fresh in the air.
Her eyes rested on the darkened corner. Whatever was happening, whether she could trust this figure or not, he was right to say that there was not much time. But this was different from before. This room, these strange constructions, they more than shook her faith. And it was that same shaken faith that found her stepping towards that dark corner, weapon at the ready.
Whatever magic lingered there, perhaps it would provide an explanation. Or, at the very least, give her some idea of whether her newest companion could be trusted. However it would turn out, Dwyn was becoming certain she'd be damned either way. It was not courage that moved her feet, but resignation to the fact that she felt trapped either way.
"I won't keep you for long," She called up, voice shaking in fear as she responded to the words that urged her to hurry, "Should anything emerge, I won't hesitate to join you, that I can promise." That much was true. Whatever strangeness surrounded this creature, it was at least something she could see, and prepare herself for. It was better than the alternative.
Dwyn stepped towards the corner just as the sounds of the faraway eruption rumbled through the chamber.
Thankfully, the nameless wisp used that ridiculous anchor of his to be of some more use. The hound was easily dealt with, the weapon slamming into it and sending it sprawling into the profane creature. The redhead was given a momentary respite from the assault, and was allowed to regain both her footing and breath. She'd worry about cleaning the muck off of her robes later, for now she brought a hand up to the wound, gently running a finger over it and grimacing slightly. Definitely hurt. Not natural whatever it was. Poison of some sort? The 'Blight' Nera mentioned? Chances were good, but that meant she had been blighted herself from this wound, unless it wasn't dangerous in small doses?
...why did it feel like she had asked these questions before? Before she could ponder the thought, a loud blast echoed through the room, punctuated by a thunk as it slammed into something. The noise was loud enough to temporarily deafen her, causing an immediate ringing in her ears. Isabella immediately swiveled her head towards the source of the sound, taking another defensive position in preparation for some attack only to find Aiv using the pillar as some large shield. A clever used of it, at least.
At this rate they could win, if they could keep up this pace, but Isabella was unsure if they could. The narrow hallway allowed for very little maneuverability and if they tried to press forward they'd be...well, pretty done in. Not to mention the four hallways meant the might also be attacked from another direction - and having to fight on two fronts was a bad idea, especially for them.
So Isabella took a more tactical approach.
She rushed over to the opening, getting as safe a distance she could to it and planting her feet firmly on the ground.
She'd at least attempt something rather flashy here with that idea she had earlier. The sword at least seemed to have some will or...life of its own. Normally just thrusting a sword forward, especially with her meager strength wouldn't typically achieve much, but perhaps the unique nature of this weapon would allow her to do something creative.
"That loud, pathetic excuse for a weapon is not a priority!" Isabella shouted back, over the ringing in her ears.
Summoning all of her strength, she made a powerful, upward slash with the weapon. The blade hissed in its usual fashion, the blade easily reaching the ceiling of the stone passageway - and if it had any amount of the same strength that it had before, it would lodge itself in it with some amount of force. The stone was weak, and in such an old place as this, the ceilings likely were not going to be that stable...hopefully this would be enough, or it'd probably not go so well for her. Likely putting more strain on her body than necessary - or was safe - Isabella pulled the blade once again, intending on freeing it from its position and hopefully bringing the ceiling down with it.
