Darkmatter — Roleplayer Guild

Veridis Quo said
I'll give these creatures a different name. Other than their name, there is nothing too special about them to make them unique for any one source of material. I explained my reason before, but if the GM doesn't want it, then it's fine. But it goes deeper than that. I don't like sitting around and making a post that merely recaptures the same things that all the other characters saw. I want to add something to the story, throw a challenge in for people to tackle on, or just spice things up in general. In a very youthful sense of it, I want to make something happen. A fight right now would do just that, especially since some of us are severely wounded (The alunei), while the others have horses or ponies on top of them. I see this as a perfect opportunity for our characters to really struggle and pull through.But that's just my creative juices talking. If you guys want to follow the story that's fine by me too.

I have no problem with player input and creation, but there was/are plenty fights arranged. If the party wants one now, by all means, but I'll aim to keep in line with the wishes of the majority for most of the time. A fight is fine with me, and I can provide enemies, if that's what the party wants.

They had arrived. The pieces had gathered at the point of origin. Now all that was needed was for the scene to be set. Shankee had stayed unmoving as the called champions heeded his call. He stood in the hollow, head dipped into his chest clutching his staff. The group of travellers around him had begun descending into a rabble rather quickly, worryingly quickly in fact. Suddenly Shankee’s head snapped up and back until it was hanging slightly back. His staff fell from his hands before they shot out at his sides. The old storyteller then seemed to somehow lift of the ground. A great force seemed to have grasped the Farrg and raised him up by the scruff of his neck. He continued to rise until he was several meters off the ground, above the heads of those around him. There was a long pause in time where nothing to seemed to happen, the moment hung in the air far too long. It was shattered by a crackling booming sound that echoed like a thousand warhorns. It was followed by a bolt of lightning that struck right through Shankee’s floating form. Only, it wasn't a bolt of lightning, it was a solid cylinder of brilliant baby-blue light that enshrouded the Farrg. Moments after making contact with the ground the light grew and spread its influence over the entire Point, becoming brighter and whiter as it moved.

Once the light had encircled the entire point it faded in brilliance and seemed to split into a multitude of separate colours: blue, green, red, purple and more. Shankee remained in the middle of it all high above the others.
Then, without any more warning, it happened. Seven humanoid figures stood before the crowd of gathered travellers. Each was indescribably tall, yet not so large. They were difficult to look at but impossible to turn away from. Their very being seemed to defy tangible quantification. Solas, Naduir, Gweeha, Tintrayach, Lasair, Trayig and Oiyaer. The seven divines who remained in Neyav. The seven true gods.

“Greetings Champions.” The words came from what seemed to be the tallest of the figures, the one still wrapped in white light that flowed over his form like endless robes and cloaks; Solas, the Sun itself. The voice was light and gentle, not at all what one expected from the most powerful force in nature. “Again, we are not long here. Our tether to Enduwin is very frail and comes at a dire cost. Thus, you must have ascertained that we come with great haste and importance. Our world, your world, is about to be laid siege to. To the south, in the heart of the Olc a great evil gathers. This Necromancer is unlike any dark mage before him. He, he…”

“He bested even our powers to hold him in Ifreann.” Continued Lasair, picking up where Solas had seemed to stutter. The fire god’s voice was thick and deep and hot on the ears of those who heard it.

“We do not know how. We do however, know what he seeks. He wishes to find four artefacts known as the Envoys.”
Trayig stepped forward. Or rather seemed to flow forwards like sand down a hill.

“They are the Envoys of the end of the world.” Spoke the Sand God, giver of life and magic in a wispy voice.

“They are treacherous objects of immense power. They were crafted by… by dark forces long ago. The first is to the north in Fuaere in a long abandoned crypt.” These words now came from Oiyaer and chilled the party to their cores.

“We must depart again sweet things.” Whispered Gweeha, her words carried by the wind.
“Our power is waning. There is nought we can do for now. You are Enduwin’s only hope.”

With that there was a second flash of light and another clap of thunder and the gods were gone. Or rather six of them were. A woman who hadn't spoken remained. Wrapped in vines and moss, the naked beauty knelt before those that had been beckoned.
“There is much the others would not have you know.” Said Naduir.
“But I feel you must darlings, in order to win you must know your enemy. The Envoys were created by Dúv and, and one of us, another of the nine, in secret. These four objects alone have the power to open the Black Tower in Ifreann and free Dúv. The artefacts are shrouded by powers beyond any one of us. We cannot see who the traitor in our midst is. Be warned. The treacherous god may have summoned a champion into your ranks also. Be wary my beautiful adventurers.”
With that, the mother of nature disappeared along with her siblings.

*****************************************

‘Now!’ thought Bawzel, screaming in anticipation to himself. The gods had departed, undoubtedly as weak as children from their excursion to the Point. In an instant Bawzel was there. He was there were the gods had just stood, shrouding the area in a veil through which the gods’ gaze could not pierce, a veil created with vast amounts of blood magic. Before him a Farrg was crumpled in a heap in the hollow.
“Haha” barked the Necromancer. “Not much of a conduit.”
Facing the bewildered beings before him, the Necromancer steadied his stance and flung both arms outwards. The upright stones shattered in place and those already on the ground disintegrated where they lay. A tremendous force flung the rubble and the travellers tens of feet away from the point.

****************************************

‘Now! Now!’ screamed Sariloth to herself. The other one, the other source of power had just sprung up where the first just was. This darker force now inhabited the space the purer one just had. She had to know. She must know. Arcing her wings up behind her, she thrust her head down and dove, dove straight at the power source; the magic.

***************************************
Bawzel knew the dragon was coming. He heard it crashing through the sky above. Its dive stopped a kilometre behind him as it levelled up and flew at full speed towards him. Smiling underneath the mask, Bawzel made a simple side step and slight duck as the dragon flew overhead. Reaching out with his right arm, he extended his index finger. The metal tip of his gauntlet just caught the beast on her chin, and drove in a few inches. The skin around the finger peeled and seamed away, melting from the bones. The dragon could not stop its momentum and by the time it had realised what was happening Bawzel’s finger had glided through its entire abdomen, along its tail and off the tip tearing it open as all flesh and organs melted into a bile soup. Still unstopping, the dragon, only a great mass of bone and rot now crashed into a heap right before the travellers.
‘How convenient’ thought the Necromancer. He literally could not have planned things better.
Now standing atop the pile of bones he spoke to the so-called champions.
“Go. Go home. Do not embark on this quest. Your world is ending. Enjoy its last whimpers of life. Return to your families and hope they aren’t raped before they are flayed. This ‘quest’ is pointless. Embark upon it and I promise you agonising deaths.”
As the last words slipped from his tongue, Bawzel felt the veil beginning to waver. He must leave. The seven could not know he had come. They could not know that he knew. Knowledge was power.
As quickly as he had appeared the Necromancer was gone, along with the dragon’s still rotting skeletal remains, leaving the gods’ chosen reeling at what had just occurred.

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