Blizz

S P I R I T U M

reading it right now and I might be down

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: Oh, you know.

Cracker Barrel

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Jack had arrived at the island long before anybody else had. They took a boat, and he simply teleport across the water, onto buildings in the dark of night. In a grey robe filled with shadows, he stalked the festival unseen. Every couple of minutes, Jack would teleport away to another rooftop, or another alleyway to scope out the place. In one hand he held his channeler, an old book full of spells and magical knowledge that he had accumulated over the years. Between jumps, he stopped to comb through its pages, hoping to jog his memory. But alas, he couldn't find any mention of Raven Jones. The personification of the Pit's will? Easy. He had whole other books about the Pit. Sunshine Jones? She was a bit more elusive, but there were stories about her being banished to the Pit, likely for a reason. But Raven Jones was an enigma. He had absolutely no idea who the girl was. Why was she important in all this? He could wrack his brain like this all day and reread every page in every book back home, but would he find anything else?

Jack snapped the book shut, and slid it away under his garish costume. Pulling his phone out to check the time, he teleported around to get an idea of where everyone was.

A dusty rooftop near the docks; Anya arrived, and looked to be waiting for someone. Sloane, maybe? He pulled his phone back out and sent her a text.

I'm on the roof to your left. I'll meet you down there in a few minutes after I find the others.

He waved to get her attention. Once she spotted him, he disappeared.

A dim alleyway across a street; Tayla brought her kid and was talking to a stranger. Someone he didn't recognize, but Tayla could take care of herself.

Behind the corner of an old warehouse; Sloane and Linqian were arguing... Without killing each other. A surprise. He overheard something about Jinhai.

Don't kill each other. I'm checking on the others, but I will meet you and Anya by the entrance.

Back up on a roof by the drink line; Luca, Lila, Lynn and Jasper were in a bitchfest with 8th Street. He just happened to overheard Emily Reed throw out Lila's deadname. And then he saw her punch someone with a bird-like hand. Honestly, Jack didn't blame her for that. But he was vindictive at heart. So when everyone's attention was on Emily, their shadows reached up to grab an unattended bottle of red wine. Emily's goons wouldn't see it creeping up behind them, but the Sycamore members would definitely see the whole thing tip upside down, and dumb all of its contents over Emily's head. The empty bottle clattered to the ground before anyone could turn around and find a culprit.

And then, he was gone again.

Lila's phone would go off, as she received a text message from Jack, almost immediately after the incident.

It must have been the wind.

Suddenly, Anya was no longer alone, as Jack came into existence near her. He pulled his hood down as the shadows produced by his magic faded, revealing the usual frazzled face she knew.

"I have good news and bad news. The good news, is that Sloane and Linqian are having a conversation that hasn't devolved to death and destruction. The bad news is that 8th Street are here, and Emily Reed picked a fight with Lila. But Luca, Lynn and Jasper are with her, and I embarrassed her in front of them without being seen. I think they'll be fine." He has a mischievous look his face, which implied he was clearly quite pleased with his deeds.

"Shall we?"

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Interactions: All the fuckers

Isle of Cracks

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I am feeling generous this week, so all assignment deadlines are extended, and there are no new ones this week. Enjoy the holiday, and don't worry about this class for a few days. If anyone needs me for anything, expect email responses to be delayed for the next two days.

-Professor Carson

Stormy shot off an message through the website that the college used. In the last two days he had managed to grade over 30 essays and send them back with comments. This was the first year he didn't format his class around a physical, in-person system, but it seemed to be working out so far. More people attended it than the previous two years, which was definitely a good sign. He looked up from the boat he was riding towards the island and put away his phone as he arrived. Others went in elaborate costumes, but Stormy had showed up in nothing more than his usual rugged aesthetic with a single difference: A headband, with a pair of comically large cat ears.

His sense of fashion truly knew no parallel.

It was intentionally bad, sort of a humorous costume rather than a good-looking one. Stormy stepped off the harbor and into the festival. He first took a walk to remember where everything was, since he hadn't been here in literally a decade. All the lights, all the people, it reminded him of what they protected during darker times. And it reminded him to enjoy what they all had while they had it. But these types of days were no fun when spent alone, so Stormy decided he should look for someone.

He mad his way across the island until he got to the ferris wheel, and then kept walking until he saw Luca, and Jasper dressed in... Interesting costumes. Lila and Lynn were there too and Stormy was just about to actually walk over until he saw Emily Reed. Keeping his distance for a moment, no one looked particularly happy, at least not in a genuine way. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Stormy had a pretty good idea when Lila fucking clocked her across the face.

And then a bottle of wine magically floated over her head and defaced that dragon getup of hers. He saw a cloaked figure up on a roof, which held a finger to its face. Or rather, where its face would've been. Stormy nodded, just before the figure teleported away.

"Why am I not surprised..."

That was his cue to walk over.

Stormy closed the distance, walking up to the small crowd and immediately getting everyone's attention. "It seems somebody had one too many drinks tonight," he joked. "You've got a mean swing, by the way- I saw that. So, what seems to be the problem here? I didn't know Lila was fond of punching people, these days."

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Britney x Layla post

Avengers Academy 💥

Leah Jordan

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Location: Hedge Maze
Gear: A bloodstained dress and a sword
Skills: Battlefield Manipulation
Oh god oh fuck

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The haunted house spilled out into a dark maze, and it was fucking cold. Leah wasn’t a big fan of cold weather, especially not when she was in this revealing an outfit. It was strange, just now many things could be hidden in Nimue’s weird magic pocket dimension. ”This some kind of a fucking joke?” She asked out loud. ”It- It’s just a fucking maze! What the hell is this?! Did she just send us in here so we’d waste our time and get fucking twisted around for nothi-“ No, no she fucking didn’t.

Out of nowhere, Sabine got absolutely fucking broadsided by a wolf the size of a house. Leah didn’t even notice his approach until Sabine was in his claws. Fuck!

Leah brought her foot up and slammed it into the dirt, causing the ground around Marrok to split open and sink him downwards a little. Clearly he was a fast little bastard, so she had to slow him down. But it didn’t look like that would keep him trapped forever, so she had to act quick. And act quick did she ever.

”Alright, you son of a fucking bitch. You want to go? Fine! I’m getting real fucking tired of that watery bitch’s fucking wizardry ruining my girls’ day. I’M GONNA SKIN YOU ALIVE!!!” She bellowed, charging straight at Marrok. Leah jumped into the air with her incredible leg strength, like the fucking Hulk and took it upon herself to fuck up Marrok’s day.

Held Roll

Leah’s more of a punch and kick type of girl but she’s going trying to bury the sword in Marrok’s face, before he can vore her girlfriend.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Shirik came back later than they had intended. The forest was growing quieter by the day, and all its creatures followed. They came back with a respectable kill, but that had been left behind when they saw the chaos at home. Their storehouse was ash, the smoker that Velhass used was ruined, and the boy was nowhere to be found.

He was gone, and the only indication that anything had happened was a thin trail of blood and multiple sets of footprints all leading in the same direction. But Shirik did not follow. No, they couldn’t, for they felt a weakness overcome them, and bring them to their knees in the aftermath of whatever had happened. Please don’t let it be true, they thought, over and over, as they screamed inwards for the strength to move. Shirik was far, far too old to be afraid of death when it came knocking, but he was just a boy.

They thought back to everything the two had done in their time together, to the mental link they had occasionally used to stay connected. Velhass would’ve used it to contact Shirik if he could. He was powerful, too powerful for his own damned good sometimes, he would be screaming into Shirik’s skull from the other side of Mythadia right now if he were… Alive.

The ground gave off wisps of smoke as Shirik came back to reality. Someone had come and killed their son. And there was only one group of people on this rock that would dare kill a child so cruelly.

The realization, the sobering reconciliation between confusion and fact crashed against Shirik as a glacier crashed against a cliff. It burned, not like anything that burned inside them for the last millennium in which they lived. All Shirik could do was scream. The quiet sanctuary the two had built together was bathed in colors of gold, white and vibrant cerulean.

“My son… I will avenge you.”

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Night had fallen not long ago, so the Inquisitors took to using lanterns to light their way. Dra’kell’s heat magic could have lit their way, but it would have been too obvious. Salaketh took the lead, carrying the dead child’s body over his back. Duuli and Dra’kell followed behind him, Tural circled overhead. Namsterra walked a notable distance behind them.

Everyone knew the dangers of being a thought mage, of being an Inquisitor. They knew the weight that they took on when they hunted rogues and policed the use of thought magic. This child, Velhass as he was called by the Iriad, was just one drop in a river to them. There was not a hint of remorse in the minds of anyone else. Not even Duuli, who had pulled the trigger.

The squad moved in silence, not sharing an audible word between any of them. The forest was dead silent, as if casting judgment upon the murderers. The axe forgets, and yet the trees remembered. Once they got out of the woods, they would all be converted into bird form by Tural, including the corpse, and they would return to their base of operations. Velhass would be reported as officially executed, and-

The sky split open.

They stepped through a clearing, the Inquisitors could see night turn into day as a colossal fireball fell down overhead. None of them moved. Duuli made a motion with her arms, and a boulder of equal size was flung upwards through the trees to intercept it. Waves of heat washed over the boulder and were sent outwards in every direction. The surrounding trees were kissed by the blaze, and were burned.

Everyone took up battle positions. The trees caught fire much too quickly, as it spread up and down them like they were covered in oil. In only moments, the forest was aglow with the fire.

Tural’s eyes were adjusted to the darkness, so they struggled to find the instigator. But he didn’t need to, because their attacker came out into the open.

Against the golden background of trees ravaged by the inferno, a cold blue glow cut through. Wearing a cloak of blackened leather and clutching a staff, Shirik glared at the Inquisitors. Their flames roared outwards beyond their usual warm hue, fueled by hatred, by rage.

”You… You took him away from me!” Shirik swung their staff in their direction, and a jet of blue flames sprayed forth like the breath of a dragon.

Namsterra flexed their fingers as a pair of metal tower shields loosed from her back and blocked the fire like a pair of doors closing together. The shields glowed hot enough to shape with a hammer, but they held.

”He was my son! My family!”

They stepped closer, and their footprints were nothing but ash. The ground rose up and snapped shut around Shirik as Duuli closed in, but it immediately exploded outward as in a ball of heat. Rock and dirt were sent everywhere.

Formation two.

Salaketh unslung his halberd. Duuli readied her crossbow, and Dra’Kell’s immediate area began to develop a layer of ice. The Inquisitors moved into a specific formation, while strange shapes began to burn brightly in the sky.

Engage.

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The mimic beasts were frozen into brittle statues, and thick fog rolled over their battlefield. It obscured the group’s vision, but at least no one else had been killed just yet. This was manageable, as eyesight typically went both ways for creatures on this world. Now, they would have a clear test if that applied to these beasts as well. Shirik gripped their staff and kept low to the ground. If they flew overhead like this, it would only tire them out more but also make them the most vulnerable target. But there were still more of them, as was made apparent by the arms slithering across the bridge.

”Yes- We need higher ground!” One of the Glen knights had the right idea, to change battlefields. The fog was a smokescreen that could theoretically cover their retreat, and if they got to more favorable terrain, they could entrench and fight more cohesively.

”This way-“ Shirik waved a hand in the direction of the opposite end on the bridge, where they were going in the first place. Biting cold overtook the air, to condense the steam and clear their way a little and prevent someone from falling into the water. But the timing of this was almost comical, because as they began to clear the way, an arm of stone shot out from the mist and struck Shirik straight across the chest. Bit of blackened bark and sparks of flame sputtered outwards as they were flung backwards.

Their staff cluttered towards the edge of the bridge, threatening to be flung into the water below.

Shirik had the metaphorical wind knocked out of them, as they landed within arm’s reach of Silbermine. ”The cold is their weakness. They move like water, so we freeze them into ice!” They shouted, and began to weave another spell into the air, somewhat quicker as they stood to their feet. Shirik fired another bolt of freezing, invisible air at the supposed origin of the attack, unable to clearly see through the mist.

They were feeling unsteady on their feet, stunned by the attack.

Now would be a damn good time for Shirik to not be the only heat mage on this journey.

Inferno - STRIKE THE MATCH! - Concluded

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Jack Hawthorne

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Location: The Sanctum Sanctorum
Skills: Magic Expertise, Magic Combat
Spells: Shadow Arm
Outfit

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Jack listened closely to the story that Runa told. She had seen much destruction in her life, and more death than a person should have experienced. The tale of Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Gods, was a grim and inescapable one. Anyone would yearn for a way to break the cycle of existence, to transcend the limitations of the mortal form, and render suffering nonexistent when they were pushed far enough. Jack would have been lying to himself if he said he wasn't sympathetic to Runa's plight.

He himself understood that nothing in the bounds of creation would last forever. Everything came and went, and it all laid the ground that the next moment would tread upon. Life was fleeting, but to cut it shorter saved no one. How many would die before the world was saved? What death toll outweighed eternal salvation? Life was temporary, and to some it was never long enough, but that very reason gave it meaning.

Humanity didn't deserve to pay the price for her idea.

"If you refuse to see reason..."

His left hand, a construct of darkness, stretched out across the room like the arm of a kraken as he gripped her by the neck. His grip was strong as steel, and for a moment he wished she weren't blind, so he could give her the kindness of looking her in the eyes as he did this.

"Dominions. The very thing Witchfire works toward right now, and you expect us to accept this? Our world is in danger, and you want us to let humanity die on the pyre for your scheme. I hope that you can find peace in the next life, Runa. You deserve it more than most..."

SNAP.

Her neck was snapped, and her body fell limp. His arm reeled back, but Jack did not feel the power of the Sorcerer Supreme flow from her to him.

He watched her body fume and writhe on the ground as it refused to die. Her corpse stood up, and she laughed at Jack. As if the implication that she could be killed by him was a comical one. Jack was surprised, but he wasn't caught off guard. Magic was a window into countless possibilities, the least of which was an unkillable witch.

"...You," His eyes narrowed at her, "Are full of surprises, aren't you? An unkillable Asgardian, who survived Ragnarok. They called you Gullveig in another time, didn't they?" He asked, amused in a grim way.

"Fine, then we shall do this the hard way."

Held Roll

Jack would like to roll a check to recall if there is a way to prevent someone like Runa from rising again. To make her stay dead. Supernatural lore plz

Avengers Academy 💥

Leah Jordan

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Location: The Dance > ???
Gear: A bloodstained dress and a sword
Skills: The insurmountable will to not lose her cool under any circumstances
Oh god oh fuck

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Really? That was her response? Handing her a fancy sword and telling her to do it herself? And what the fuck did she mean by "Face one's shadow?" Leah didn't have a damn clue, but she was still angry, and someone was probably trapped in there. So quickly thinking about it, she reached down and realigned a few of the broken bones in her hand with a disgusting CRUNCH. Leah didn't even fucking flinch as she did this, and while it didn't unbreak her hand, at least it wouldn't agitate her as much. If it hurt, it wasn't obvious to the others. Having done that, she took the sword and rested it against her shoulder.

"We damn sure would've liked to not be heroes tonight, but that's apparently too much to ask for. So go ahead, block people off, but we're going to fix this little fuck-up. 'Bine. House. Let's go." With that, Leah turned around and marched back into the damn infernal nonsense that Nimue had put up.

When they walked in, Leah couldn't help but start bitching, even as they moved further and further away from the land of reality and the mundane. "Fucking incompetent watery little bitch. WhAt Is MoRe TeRrIfYiNg ThAn To FaCe OnE's ShAdOw? The fuck does that even fucking mean?! I didn't face a shadow, I saw a person in here who beat the damn shit out of me. They're probably still in here so be careful- Their hair works like mine for some fucking reason." Leah was being a real dumbass right now by still not connecting the dots.

"She's lucky I didn't take this sword and stick her against the nearest wall. People are getting fucking traumatized."

The more they walked, the more it just seemed like they were going nowhere. Were they walking to where Leah found herself before?

"COME THE HELL OUT ALREADY, ASSHOLE! IT'S TIME FOR ROUND TWO!"

Parahumans: Earth Drega

Bridgewater Bank

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Ten minutes later, the Wards were deployed to the downtown area of Birdgewater to deal with the mercenary group known as Blackburn. They were known for being ruthless in their operations, and for disappearing as soon as they're finished. Blackburn's numbers are relatively small, but each member was capable of taking down an entire PRT squad individually. The PRT briefed them on the group's powers, and then piled them into the back of an armored vehicle with half a dozen senior officers. More were on the way, but first contact came down to the Wards themselves. Each member was given specific advice on how to approach this by the officers they road with. This began with a simple warning to proceed with caution, as Blackburn was seen using firearms as they attacked, and to always assume that the mercenaries wanted to kill them.

Decree, Munnin and Keystone were advised to take a backseat and play a supportive role. That meant sneaking in and "convincing" the hostages to follow Decree out, flying over the roof to monitor stragglers and the upper windows, and pointing out strategies and the inherent flaws in their approach. Keystone's power gave him a combative edge, so he would have the easiest time against Champion. While Ethos' power didn't do much in a direct confrontation, the PRT recommended that if she did decide to directly engage Blackburn, she should avoid Ironsides and focus on the other three. Ironsides' power could potentially negate hers, where the others did not have any abilities that physically altered them. She was given the approval to use her powers "as she deemed necessary."

Hornet, Shattercrash and Richter were advised to be the strike team. Using their mobility, Hornet and Shattercrash could get around Champion and Sundown's explosions the easiest, and Richter only had to touch Kintsugi's minions to take them out. Their powers were the most offensive, so they were tasked with taking the heavy hitters out. This left Tandem, who was strongly advised to spread her clones out between all three subgroups, so no one is left fighting one-on-one while she stole their weapons into her pocket dimension.

Of course, the team was more than welcome to handle this however they wished, if they didn't like the advice. So long as they did not outright kill anyone or injure the hostages, they should have no trouble explaining their approach to the Protectorate after the robbery is done. The PRT's officers would be on standby to avoid a crossfire, rather than rush in to help these mostly untrained children against the brutal villains. They were on their own, and would only be assisted once they incapacitated someone. Would they be able to bring down some of the most dangerous capes in the entire state, all alone?

The bank itself was big. Twenty-five stories of floor to ceiling windows and a brutalist exterior of concrete and metal jutted out from the surroundings and offered very little vantage points to scale the building from. Bridgewater Bank was built to last, during the reconstruction period after Confessor, and its architecture showed that off, with thick concrete crenelations lining the faces of the building that offered shock absorption in the case of natural disasters. Overall, it looked uninviting, as any heartless corporate building was, but at least it would take a lot to knock it down.

Keystone's power would notice a substantial flaw in the plan of the buildings; While it was very sturdy, it had no external methods of escaping from the higher floors. The elevator system operated on an independent circuit, meaning it could operate in the event of a blackout, but getting to them wouldn't always be easy. Especially when Sundown had already destroyed them, according to a few text messages from inside the building.

Police cars and riot barricades littered the front of the bank, with cops and special forces ready to open fire on anyone who looked like a villain. Numerous broken shapes made of twisted metal, asphalt and concrete littered the ground, vaguely formed into animals. These were the work of Kintsugi, a construct master who made minions from the environment.

The Wards were dropped off on the opposite end of the street, while the van swerved off into another direction. The officers simply said "good luck," and left them to it.

"Don't know about you guys, but I'm going in through the front. Munnin, just fly up and use the earpieces to tell us what you use. Don't get punched. I fought Champion once, and she'd snap your neck with a broken wrist if you looked at her funny," Shattercrash said, as she stepped out and immediately offered some of her personal insight.

Having said that, her hands and feet began to crackle with a neon pink glow, and she stormed across the street to the front door. Glowing footprints slowly faded away behind her as she pulled from her internal well, stepping across the barriers and hopping through a broken window, disappearing behind fake potted plants and chairs.

And then...

BANG!

Barely a few seconds after she was out of sight, a loud and sharp blast rang out from inside. Then another, and another. The cops outside tensed up, not able to see what was happening clearly.

X-Men: GenetiX

There wasn’t much left to say about the outside world. Ryder had everything she needed through her powers, and Xavier’s tour was just an excuse to stretch her legs. With a perpetual chip on her shoulder, she went back inside later that day, and Xavier found her an unused room to sleep in. Ryder wasn’t in a position to pick and choose what she was given- or rather, she didn’t perceive it as such- and so she accepted it. Night after night went by, and she adamantly refused to be subjected to any further medical attention. No bandage changes, no check-ups. Even when Ryder seemed to be doing fine externally, her mind did not wind down on the inside.

Her mind did not have a concept of being wound down, or being calm. Calm to her was a pattern of navigating through violence and coming out in a collected manner. It was the eye of a storm, surrounded by wrath and fury and removed from it, yet never breaking pace or faltering.

That was peace to Ryder, and for that reason, she didn’t sleep.

Days went by all the same for anyone else, as if Ryder were just a ghost who came and went. And like a ghost, she stalked the school in the dead of night. Every time the sun went down and everyone went indoors, Ryder’s body refused to let her fall asleep. She always stayed awake for days, even weeks at a time, since Umbra regularly dragged her away from her cage at random intervals. It was well past 12am tonight, and Ryder stood on the path in front of the main doors that led out into who-knows-where.

Her eyes felt heavier than usual. Being shot and wounded gravely had taken a toll on her pattern of keeping on guard, leaving her wearier. Ordinarily, she could stay up for a few more days at minimum. She didn’t want to fall asleep here. She had to avoid that eventuality in the same way a predator had to constantly watch a rival; Not doing so went against everything they knew, and would only get them killed.

So when she heard footsteps coming up behind her, Ryder did as a predator would do. She turned around, and locked eyes with them.

”What?” She wasn’t in a social mood right now. So the first reaction to being approached was… Unamused, to put it lightly.

Inferno - STRIKE THE MATCH! - Concluded

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Jack Hawthorne

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Location: The Sanctum Sanctorum
Skills: Magic Expertise
Spells: Renewal
Outfit

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It was working. There was no clear way to know for sure, no feeling in his bones that told Jack that the Veil was regenerating. But he had a feeling their efforts were making some semblance of progress. Any progress put them further away from certain doom. The glitter staining his clothes was getting everything by now. It would take weeks To get rid of it all, but the thought. That faded as Jack felt his kind melding together again with Max’s. Their thoughts and the power each of them held turned outwards upon itself. Like a geometric shape unfolding into infinity, the wells connected and formed the ocean.

He wasn’t particularly surprised that Klara seemed to fumble the chant. She was a child, and he knew how to remedy that. But as they recited the Renewal spell, he noticed Madalyne spitting fire like a dragon. It looked like the spell was actively harming her- literally burning her alive just saying the words- and he felt distressed at the sight of her pain. Why didn’t he think of this sooner? In Limbo, he noticed she seemed to exhibit some demonic capabilities, but avoided commenting on it because he didn’t want to be rude. But now, her hybrid origin was working against her.

And worst of all, Runa flat out refused to take part in it.

What had she done to herself? She seemed different now. Jack turned and shot her an exasperated look, ”Have you lost your mind?! This is what we need to stop the invasion! Why would you come this far with us, only to-“ He cut himself off, quickly reminding himself that they had to see this through. Squabbling wasn’t going to help them, it would only slow them down. Prudence didn’t want to do this either, but at least she was seeing it through. Jack kept silent for a moment as he thought about what to do.

One refused, another could get herself killed. But he had his book…

”Fine. Refuse, and leave it to us. But if we need your power, and the fragment of Strange's soul you were given, I will take them by force if I must. We did not come this far to fail." Ever determined to see this through, Jack released his hands from Max’s, and reached into his coat. He was going to get glitter in the pages… Oh well. It was for a good cause.

"Madalyne, save your strength for a moment. We may be able to do this without you. The chance is small, but it's better than killing you to do this."

Thanks to the melding of their minds, Max and anyone else participating would know exactly what the was getting at before he did it. He hoped it didn't come to fighting one another, but would they succeed otherwise?

He pulled the small book from his pocket and instantly began flying through pages. He had it with him when he was first dragged into Limbo, and it could not have been more useful than right now. ”That will leave six of us. It’s a universal truth that magic works best in threes. Mathematically speaking, two sets of three will make the spell flow more intuitively, like a river without rocks in its path. It may be slower, but slow and steady is superior to fast and loose. Where is it- Where is- Here!”

He found the page he was looking for. It was the Renewal chant written down, word-for-word, as a passage in a section of the book about the Veil. ”Klara, if you can’t memorize the spell, use this. I wrote it down years ago, and it is exactly the same. Read it from the page, it’ll be easier for you.” He handed the book to her, trusting her with it even after the glitter had stuck to the pages.

”The spell requires the soul of a Sorcerer Supreme to cast, but we're working with a broken version. But more we cast the spell, the more we repair the Veil. Again!” he rejoined hands with Max and began to recite the chant.

Over, and over, and over again.

However, in the back of his mind, some small part of him was dreading this. Something was telling him that this workaround wasn't going to pay off, but they had to try first. They lost a piece of the soul in Limbo, and now one of them simply wouldn't take part. The Veil was certainly regenerating thanks to the effort. but could the mend it faster than it was breaking? Or were they simply breaking even against the endless tide by working with fractions of power?

If they couldn't use clever tactics to win, would they have to kill Runa?

Would they even be capable of killing someone like her?

Held roll

Jack does not wish to kill Runa. He desperately wants the best possible ending for as many people as possible. And to that end, he's rolling to wrack every last scrap of knowledge in his brain for something, anything to make this work without their full power. Skills: Magic expertise and supernatural lore. And a prayer.