Estylwen

Iris Ascendis

Oh I get it now xD

Iris Ascendis

Yuri? :o You mean like Yuri on Ice?

Iris Ascendis

Iris Record, Arena

_{Collaboration between @Estylwen and @Psyker Landshark}

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Watch Yo Step

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There was nothing left to say. Negotiations had been attempted already, and they’d broken down. Now all that remained was force of arms. Iraleth raised her sword and settled into her starting stance as the dividing line fell, surveying the field.

More than enough cover to favor Ciara’s ambush tactics on the outskirts. And she wasn’t stupid enough to face Iraleth head-on. That was fine. Iraleth wasn’t the one who had called for this duel. Ciara would no doubt attack first.

The paladin strode into the clearing, raising her sword up level to her head and settling into an ox stance as she extended her senses around her, waiting for Ciara to make a move.

“Really gonna start this without talking to me?”

The brush rustled as Ciara steadily approached, eyes locked on Iraleth. She only took a couple steps into the clearing, one hand on a glass ball at her waist, the other hidden behind her back. And beside her, Otis's sword, held in black.

Ciara studied Iraleth's face, before her eyes tightened. “We don't have to do this, you know.”

”I wasn’t the one that asked for this. I have already requested for you to recant the duel. Anything that happens next is on your head.”

Ciara snorted under her breath.

”Very well, then.”

In one fell swoop, she stepped forward, yanking a ball off its latch and smashing it into the ground at Iraleth's feet. As the ball shattered, smoke enveloped the area, seeded with chilli powder. If Iraleth were to remain where she stood, she would soon come in contact with the smoke, causing burning, watery eyes and blindness.

In the same instance, Ciara pulled a twig free and slammed it into the ground.

“Timber!”

A tree quickly sprung up, cracking the earth as its roots spread. Ciara grabbed a branch, catapulting herself into the air, over the smoke. And, as her quickling tree fell over and decayed, Ciara remained sailing in mid-air, hoping to dive down on Iraleth with her sword and surprise her with a mighty downwards blow.

Iraleth saw the glass ball in Ciara’s hand moments before it slammed into the ground, and was already hastily backstepping out of the smoke’s radius. That, however, put her in direct range of the tree crashing down upon her. The half-elf’s eyes narrowed. Ciara wanted her to evade. She wasn’t playing that game.

She raised her sword, glistening with Light.

”Cleave!” Iraleth roared, infusing her blade with the namesake Essence she’d just screamed out loud. A flash of steel, and the armored girl cut through the tree trunk cleanly, just in time to see Ciara crashing down upon her.

The paladin took her left hand off of her sword, raising it to grasp Ciara’s sword by the blade with her gauntleted, barriered hand out of midair and yank, aiming to slam Ciara by her weapon face-first into half of the tree she had tried to use against Iraleth.

Unprepared, Ciara found herself hurtled face-first into the crumbling tree. Her own personal barrier took the edge off, and moments later, the tree disintegrated.

”Is that all?” Iraleth advanced steadily, her left hand uninjured thanks to the Personal Barrier they’d just covered earlier that day. ”If you’d like to stop wasting everyone’s collective time, say the words. Say the damned words. You are not an Umbralist. Now either be one or surrender. This is a farce.”

Ciara only grinned, before taking a deep breath, and uttering “Lotharil.” Before she blew a cloud of pollen towards Iraleth. If impacted, Iraleth would get the seasonal sneezes and watery eyes.

In the next instant, Ciara had stepped into the shadow of her sword, reappearing on the ceiling, one hand holding onto one of the lights, her other hand twirling Otis’ blade. Darkness streaked down the tip, lengthening the sword by at least four times, and she swung it hard, aiming to take out all the overhead lights in one fell swoop.

Iraleth wasn’t able to evade the cloud this time. She burst through it as quickly as she could, her eyes burning and her nose tortured. Nevertheless, she held in a sneeze, refusing to give Ciara the satisfaction.

The lights went out, and that was the first move Ciara made this duel thus far that Iraleth had seen coming with a hundred percent certainty. For someone with the witch’s skill set, she would have had to practically bathe in darkness out to have any hope of victory. Not that Iraleth was going to let her have that uncontested.

Without hesitating for a moment, she raised her free hand to the air, an utterance sending an orb of light hovering up towards the ceiling. It shone across the field of battle, emanating a weak light that served to keep the shadows at bay, at the very least. Iraleth could have made the light stronger, but this was as much as she could maintain indefinitely without too much strain on herself.

Now, what advantage had Ciara bought herself with her few seconds in the dark…?

As the light illuminated the dark, it almost appeared like pulsating black feelers rippled all around her. They were thick, blocking out any shapes of trees. One could almost forget they were even in the Iris Record, looking out at this sea of feelers. Every direction looked, where the light grew weak, there were feelers, wriggling in madness, along the floor, in the air, and above, making a canopy of dense, writhing shadow.

Morphing in from the feelers, like pools of goo, forms rose up. They appeared like the shadow of people, or things, with each having different colored, piercing eyes.

“Finally! We see it with our own eyes!” One shadow spoke.

“It looks delicious.” Said another.

Arms morphed into elongated blades, as the shadows stared gleefully.

“It’s mine!” One called out on Iraleth’s far right. In two quick slides, the shadow was upon her, slashing at her side.

The rest of the four shadows followed suit, one swiping for Iraleth’s leg, another at her arm, one at her chest, and one from behind at her neck.

Disgusting. Iraleth sneered in distaste at what she beheld, her sword at the ready. Was this Ciara’s Ethos, then? It wasn’t quite the devastation that had ruined her orphanage, her village, but all the same, this shadowy madness brought up old nightmares that had haunted her for years.

The talking shadows closed in, and Iraleth burst into action in response. Cut. Kick. Punch. Headbutt. She tore through the shadows even as they clawed at her armor, rending gouges in the plate. Her glower intensified as she closed her eyes, relying on sound to try to pinpoint where the witch was hiding. Ciara may be stealthy, but Iraleth’s (half) elven ears still provided her some advantage in this regard.

And so it was. Iraleth would be able to hear the swish of a sword as Ciara crept up behind her and lashed out horizontally, hoping to slash her spine.

Her ears twitched. Of course she knew what a sword sounded like, considering she’d trained half her life thus far with one. Iraleth whirled around, parrying Ciara’s sword with her dominant hand. Her other hand reached out, grabbing Ciara by the throat and lifting her up with one hand in a chokehold. Iraleth began to squeeze. Not too tightly, given she wasn’t aiming to snap her neck. Yet. But enough to cut off air.

The sword fell to the ground with a clunk as Ciara struggled in Iraleth's grasp, hands clawing at the gauntlet.

She couldn't breath, panicked gurgles escaping her mouth.

Her red eyes stared down at Iraleth, a mixture of rage and shock written in them. Before they were all replaced with a growing urge to live, a panicked desire to breathe.

Her lungs burned. There was no lasping off into unconsciousness, no reprieve. Just burning, painful lack of air that drove every instinct to maddening ends.

That madness unhinged something in Ciara. A terrible monster lurking behind the mask.

In a terrible, and swift moment, Ciara opened her mouth, and with all her will, all the force in her mind, she moved essence in a ‘sucking’ motion.

The essence in question?

Iraleth's.

Pinpoints of light shone radiant in swirls as Ciara tore into Iraleth's prime essence, her soul, absorbing as much as she could. It was like a tidal wave of light leaving Iraleth and ending up in Ciara's mouth.

The taste almost made Ciara forget she was being choked.

Exquisite.

Her desire for more food, real food, became blind ravenousness, intent on devouring all of Iraleth's lifeforce, right then, right there.

She felt her soul being sucked away. What was this?! Iraleth’s grip intensified as she channeled Light in panic, purification magics running up her arm. That tore it. She’d finish this now, before Ciara could become a monster in truth.

It was a race against time on both ends. Would Ciara finish devouring Iraleth before the latter purified the former? In the end, the question was academic. The strain on both girls proved to be too much, and they collapsed next to each other in tandem, hitting the ground at the same time, neither rising. Barely breathing. The shadows melted away, leaving the ground marred.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

@SporkoBug Perfect, perfect, I'm glad I asked. So Wren is official, and MiMi is kind of like Batman?

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

@SporkoBug Mhmm! You don't mind if I send your characters on a mission via Ghost Corp, right?

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

General Solen

General Solen

42 | Human | He/him | Ghost Corp, General

Abyssal Connection: None

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Description: The leader of the Ghost Corp, who gives most commands and enacts the will of the Gilded Circle. Every strategic attack on Umbra Corp's supply chains and military bases within Dust was called by General Solen.

The general has a slight obsession with the Wilds, and tries to reduce the number of Ghost Corp attacks on the Wilds. Instead, he has asked their supplier to restock their raw material of Wild hearts through the Lawless. The general has even gone as far as to include some friendlier Wilds into their ranks.

Some Lawless have tried stealing from and harassing the Ghost Corp units, but General Solen is quick to extinguish these outbursts, often using lethal measures to drive the message home that Ghost Corp is not to be messed with.

He's a no-nonsense general, with a laser-like focus and hunger for victory. He is cold to mostly everyone except the few within his ranks that have earned his favour.

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

@Ocelot79, @Squirrel98, thanks for the updates, looking forward to it! :)

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

@Abstract Proxy Sounds good to me, take your time! Thanks foe the update.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

The House on the Hill

Interactions: Jack/Stormy/Amara (@Blizz), Linqian (@FernStone), Sloane (@Atrophy), Leon (@AtomicEmperor)

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"You are not Alizee, creature of the Void. The real Alizee knew we had both seen things worse than you.

Jack

Alizée's red eyes narrowed in confusion. “Of course I'm Alizée. What are you-” She felt the prick of discomfort, staring down at the man in front of her. The darkness he wielded almost seemed familiar - something she would see in her home, in the Void.

Her confusion increased, questions raising without answers. She had never seen this man before. That much was sure. But what he said… it made no sense. Unless.

“-What are you talking about?” She hissed out, doing her best to ignore the pressure in her arm as his hand gripped it like iron. Lucky for her, her mask hid any involuntary grimaces she would have had her face been, well, softer.

“Rahk-las hreshnik yuul." "You do not scare me,"

Jack

Her glowing eyes blinked, understanding him perfectly. “Hi mindoraan kruziik vun perfectly. Vir dreh hi mindok do atruk tolro held dil ko vulom, kiin tir do irkbaan ahrk suleyk? (You understand the ancient tongue perfectly. How do you know of something that's held deep in the darkness, born out of hatred and power?)”

"Whatever you are, you don't want to do this."

Stormy

Alizée side-eyed him, appraising the elements in his hands. Curious. Similar to the shadow weaver, he too had magic. It was a threat. It was always a threat. But from his mannerisms, he too wasn't scared.

Voildings she had crushed in the Void exhibited one of two emotions: anger, or fear. Anger at their own weakness, or fear at getting reduced to a heap of essence that would take years to reform. Bur here? It was neither. Just a calmness. It was something she'd never encountered before.

"Go back the way you came, princess. Right the fuck now,"

Amara

Alizée glanced at the gun pointed at her. Immediately, flashes of the death she remembered tore through her mind, and her eyes narrowed in disgust.

“The trail leads me here. I need answers.” She hissed to the woman.

”I am so fucking sick of this shit. That fucking shadow testicle keeps causing fucking problems when we're fucking dying, and have had it up to fucking here with it. Just fuck off. The fucking testicle isn’t here.”

Linqian

Alizée trembled with pain as white heat met the chain. She had attempted to draw energy from Britney, and the psychic backlash of that being disturbed was instant. For an instant, she hunched forward, almost appearing to lean on Jack for support.

Her eyes snapped to the woman who attacked her chain. The chain fell limp, uncurling from Britney’s ankle. It attempted to pull away from her boot, but to no avail.

The… testicle?

Alizée thought about it for a second, before she growled in disgust, her voice thick. “How dare you refer to him like that.” Another suck of air, “The trail leads here, he has to be here.”

“Can we not have just one,”

“Normal.”

“FUCKING!”

“MEETING!?”

Sloane

The rush of dust and butterflies caught Alizée off-guard, and she lifted a free hand to protect her eyes from the blast.

However, it wasn't the blast that she had to worry about. She blinked, feeling a strange, sickening sensation slowly creeping over her body. She hissed a gasp, immediately trying to pull away from the woman and her staff. But the black hand kept her firm.

Until, that was, she saw a blur of motion.

The staff was lifted away, and her sensations returned to themselves. And a blur of a dark-coated fist. For a split second she saw it, a black-maned man with a conflicted look on his face.

For a split second, she pulled up a single link, free of the chain, hovering in the narrowing space between them.

For a split second, she could hear her own rageful scream.

Wham!

A bright light cracked the center of the room, sending anyone close to her careening into the farthest walls. At least, anyone who didn't move back in time.

Alizée herself used the momentum to break free of Jack's grip. The chain under Linqian's boot snapped as Alizée smashed into the far wall, putting a fine crater in the wood.

In the next instant, the light was gone. In its place, a wide crater in the floor, absent of any persons.

Alizée peeled herself off the wall with a disgruntled grunt, looking down at her arm. Half was missing, the stub leaking black shadow. A shame, really.

Alizée's eyes returned to the room, falling immediately to the man who swung at her. Then, she shifted to stare at the woman who attacked her with the staff. Alizée liked to think she was good at sizing up apparitions before a fight. And all the humans she'd come across, well, they'd been mundane. She had assumed this would be no different.

But alas, now, in light of her newfound revelations, Alizée had to assume that every single person in this room was magical. Perhaps each of them were fighters. Fighters were fine, she could handle most. But the real trouble was that staff. Alizée felt what it was doing, and it scared her what it would have done had the staff finished its job. She was a young apparition after all, still struggling with picking her fights, clearly. And the way she looked at it, in this room, she was either severely outmatched, or wouldn't escape without severe harm, especially to her chains. Maybe even to her body. The broken off chain staring at her from across the room, the severed arm on the other side, were a testament to that.

So Alizée did the next best, logical thing.

She drifted a step forward, and sank to her knees, making contact with the floor, gnarled hands raised up.

“I surrender. I might be bold, but surely I'm not stupid.”

All the chains had retracted from their positions, floating aimlessly around her. Alizée eyed Jack, then Leon. Both knew a secret, but would they tell her?

Her illogical mind skipped over the fact that they might not accept her surrender, and she had to backtrack, do a double take, and remind herself these were humans, not apparitions. (Well, except for one.) She didn't know what humans would do in a situation like this, but surely there would be less blood-letting than surrendering to an apparition, which she’d witnessed only once. It was terrible.

Perhaps she could appeal to their sense of reason?

“I don't know what you mean by me not being Alizée. Of course I'm Alizée. But I… I don't remember much. I’m… well, I'm new.”

Her eyes glanced to Jack. “I'm sorry for jumping you. You're my first lead in a long time, and I… got excited. Anxious. My entire existence depends on the Void Heart. I don't remember much of who they were, I just know they're important. And that I need to find them.”

“Wouldn’t you do the same for those you love?”

She took a breath, closing her eyes briefly as she knelt there. “Please… I don't want to fight you. Just… give me a second chance. I can help you.”

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

@illirica Me too!

I believe we are waiting on @Abstract Proxy, @Wayward, and @Lexisheeps for their CSes. Wayward is currently travelling. So I would like to start the IC by Monday, August 12th at the latest. That gives everyone a bit of time. :)