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Force and Fury Member

Actually kind of mellow

STATUS: Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/… 2 yrs ago
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2 yrs ago
Current Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Don't mind me. Just shilling a thread: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
8 likes
3 yrs ago
Nice to meet you, Bored. I'm interested!
7 likes
3 yrs ago
Ugh. Someone literally stole the wheels off of my car. Gonna have to work tirelessly for justice.
4 likes

Bio

Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?

Stay awesome, people.

Most Recent Posts

In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Don't Lay Your Weapons Down: ♫
There had been a point in her life when Jocasta had hated the world and everything in it. She had first been a victim: bitter, helpless and frightened. Then, she had found her strength but lost none of her hatred. She did not, by and large, know the faces of most of her victims. She never would. She had been told that they were bad people and hadn't cared enough at the time to question those who seemed - to her warped and damaged teenage mind - to be good.

Then, San Agustin happened. Zarina happened, and Ayla, and Kaspar and Abdel and Marceline... and Yalen. Jocasta had come to understand that the world could be a bad place, full of awful people and awful things, but there was good in it too! There were things worth keeping in her life: protecting and having and loving!

It was late and she could not sleep. Yalen, thankfully, had managed the trick, but his loving wife paced anxiously about the living room, hands both heavy and light on her wheels. Finally, she pulled on a light shawl and eased herself out of the front door into the cool night air. Crickets chirped and stars shone overhead, peering shyly through the hazy bands of clouds. In a nearby alleyway, two or more cats were fighting and, presently, a dog started barking and drew out three more or its kind to join in the howl.

Jocasta rolled along the flagstones, working up a bit of speed on the flat ground and coasting, feeling the comforting little bumps and jostles beneath her wheels, the sharp wind on her nose and ears. Her golden hair trailed like a series of ghostly ribbons behind her, but her breath did not come out in little wisps as it had in Retan. It was too late in Stresia for that and Ersand'Enise was too warm anyhow.

Retan: it was still with her. What she'd witnessed and been a part of had rendered itself indelible in her mind's eye. Elder sanguiniares, she thought. Sapient dragons, Arcel of Perrence reborn, and that... tentacled titan. The crushing enormity of the threat facing... everyone was, honestly, too much for her to fully wrap her head around, insignificant girl that she was.

But it was not all that bothered her. There had been no missing the looks of reproach: Maura, some rich merchant's daughter whose venomous smile and barbed words had split the group of students, who had twice denied Jocasta land of her own so that the rich might grow richer, who looked relentlessly for advantage with her silver tongue and false earnestness; Abdel, who had rendered judgment upon others with his beasts; Ingrid, who had used her strength to intimidate Yalen into giving up his land - their land - and the security of their shared future. It was another bauble in a growing empire to her. It was everything to Jocasta. She'd had to grit her teeth and bear it for the sake of decorum, because of her position.

The further on that she went, the more that Jocasta thought. Something had surfaced after that, though. She had taken, for herself, three items of value to make up for the loss, ignoring Maura's judgmental glares. How quick she was to turn bitter and righteous when it was her on the losing end of things. Go cry into your stacks of money, you spoiled bitch. Then, there were bullies, like Ingrid and, now, possibly Abdel. The latter at least did so out of some sense of moral superiority and it made him dangerous but not bad. The former, however, the more that Jocasta thought about it, was simply a bully, through and through: eager to threaten with her superior strength and - usually - quick to back down if she sensed that she could not win or felt, in their glares and mutterings, the burning resentment that people held towards her actions.

And that was when Jocasta knew it: she had strength of her own and talent in magic that far outstripped theirs. She had people that she cared for and that she wanted to protect, because they were what made a bleak life in a bleak world... something better: something 'worth it'. But there would always be Mauras and Ingrids. There would always be people who sought relentless advantage for themselves and were either too blind to see how awful they were, too callous to care, or too weak to change. And, as long as there were people like that, there would be a need for Jocasta. There would be a need to protect herself from their aggressions, whether with words or force. There would be a need to protect Yalen and Ayla and Zarina and Marci and Kaspar. The best way to do that was to be strong. There was some good in the world, but it was a place of predators. She could not show weakness. Every testing word by Maura was a sniff for blood in the water, so that she might force and subject her prey into either agreeing with her or being cast as villains. Every too-firm hand on the shoulder, warning draw of energy, or buyout of some auction was Ingrid's attempt to place herself above others and then help them - on her terms - from on high. They were all so power hungry and all so relentless, and...

Jocasta, quite frankly, did not care about any of that. She'd have been perfectly happy to live and let live. Yet, the closer that she let people like that get to her level, the stronger they became in comparison to her, the greater the chance of it happening again: they would step on her. They would humiliate her and crush her underfoot and leave her loved ones vulnerable. She would not be left counting on their dubious goodwill. That was not a mistake she would ever make again. The refuge had used and abused her. The Volti had shown some care - true - but they had used her as well, in their own way. The school, certainly, was using her at this very moment.

She came to a stop, eventually, at the edge of the arboretum, and the cool brisk wind was making her eyes water. She wiped them clean with the back of her sleeve and turned on the spot, blinking and looking about. Not anymore, she promised herself. In truth, she could kill them. She could kill almost anyone. If she were an animal, like Benedetto, she might. It would be so easy and so... What? Satisfying? It wouldn't, though. It would just make her a murderer. It would get rid of a few run-of-the-mill bad people who might, someday, even see the error of their ways. No. Jocasta would have to drink this poison. She'd been living the past nine months in a fantasy world - a kneejerk escape from her more customary misanthropy - where she could simply be nice to people and have them be nice in return. They weren't, though, and the tethered was reminded that she was not a nice person either. She took and released a couple of long breaths, rolling to the foot of the gazebo before turning back. She had her immense magic. She had her position of authority at this school. She had her wits. It was time to use them: no apologies or pretense. It was time to take the offensive.
In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Present: Ayla Arslan @Ti, Evander Fino Synesti @RezonanceV, Tku Pictor @dragonpiece, Fiske Flachstrauch @jasbraq, Zarina Al-Nader @YummyYummy, Desmond Catulus @Th3King0fChaos, and Yansee Keelee Kensen-loon @CaliforniaState
Marceline did not realize that she had fallen asleep. She’d ended up talking to Fiske the previous night, in their shared misery and then… the next thing that she knew, she found herself woken by a cat. It was a large, fluffy orange one, very much like Kurbis, and she thought that it was him for a moment. The teenager rolled over lazily in bed. She may have slept but it had clearly not been all that much. “Oh hello, little fellow,” she yawned, reaching out to ruffle his ample fur. Yet, her unexpected visitor was rather insistent, unleashing a stream of rather eloquent meows and yowls, pawing at her, and design away towards the door, shooting expectant glances back in her direction. He was trying to tell her something, and that got her attention.

“Miauw,” he prodded, and she rose to a sitting position, wriggling and stretching out her toes. “Prrauw! Brrt!” She could feel pins and needles in them - the unwelcome tingling of dying nerves - and took a moment to stretch them out. It was ever a battle and she would need to find another grey aberration soon, or even a white if she was desperate. “ME.OW.” She regarded the creature dimly for a moment before sighing. “Okay. Okay. I’m coming.”

“Mew.” He seemed satisfied with that, pacing around the door as she stood and stretched. She’d fallen abed in her day clothes, so there was no need of a change and, as she looked about the room, her eyes fell on Fiske, who had similarly fallen asleep in a corner on some cushions. Her cheeks flushed. To have fallen asleep in the same room as a boy - one who she was… she shook her head. It was scandalous, but nobody here would know or much care, she imagined. The cat - she had been thinking of him as Kurbis in her head, though he was not - was now pawing at Fiske, and he, too, snapped awake.

In the proceeding few minutes, both were led cautiously outside, through the slowly-stirring streets. Morning had taken hold of An Zenui and the surrounding environs, and it was already a hot and vicious thing. Sand from the previous day’s storm still lay about the place; the Stuzé-Upets and other assorted slaves had been hard at work, but they had not yet cleared it all. Not-Kurbis hurried out ahead of them, his little head glancing back, letting out the occasional “meow” of anxious encouragement as he assiduously avoided the areas where it clung to surfaces or had piled up in small drifts. For much of their walk, moments of stillness prevailed. The arms of the sun reached deeper into the shadows of the canyon in which much of the city lay, but it was, as always, the rich who enjoyed first light.

It broke over a clearing by the cliffs and there was already a small crowd of curious onlookers gathered. Fiske shielded his eyes with magic from the glare while Marci used more traditional methods. Both took in a gasp. From a scraggly tree hung a body, swaddled in ornate silks and flowing veils. It took them both a moment to recognize who it was.

“Ayla.” Marceline darted forward, her voice a terrified squeak, and she bade Fiske to follow. The cazenax and sirrahi who had gathered swirled back at her sudden approach, jabbering rapidly amongst themselves in their foreign tongue at the arrival of the two humans. Marci paid them little and less attention. She reached out with her senses and felt the energies in Ayla’s body. To her immense relief, the girl was alive, but her breathing was shallow and her heartbeat irregular. Fiske, of course, could’ve already told her as much, for such were his gifts as a sensemaster.

Together, they brought their friend gently to the ground, pushing back the nascent crowd, and trying to figure out just what had happened. It was Fiske who sensed it first. “Poison,” he said grimly. He’d been grim ever since last night. She had too, but there was no time for self-loathing at the moment. “It’s a paralytic.” She was not good enough with chemical magic to have sensed it, but he clearly did. “Look for those places,” he directed, “Where the muscles seem colder.” Arcane was a language she spoke at least a little, and she found them after a short interval. The damage was near-terminal, but binding was a language that Marci spoke considerably better, and she set to work. If she could not neutralize the foreign chemicals, she could remove them entirely, and heal the harm they’d done. The entire time, Not-Kurbis paced around protectively, and she began to grow suspicious that there was something special about that cat.

Ayla was jarred from her near-death reverie quite suddenly, and opened her eyes to the sight of Marci and the cat - Benny - leaning over her. Fiske hovered nearby, holding off a growing crowd, and they did not have long to linger. Within a minute, she was on her feet and they were on their way. Perhaps they might’ve headed back to their underground bolt-hole beneath the cliffs, but the city had become an oppressive-feeling place, full of hidden enemies, where they’d be instantly recognized and surrounded by crowds. If they’d found a handful of sympathetic faces, like Pan’s, they were, at best, a curiosity here. To some of those in power, however, they were a threat, and it was Ayla’s recommendation that they reconvene at the 4S sweetwater farmstead.


Zarina’s journey there had been of a different sort. Her vigor and ambition to catch this Wesca - this puppetmaster behind the attack on the stead and perhaps other happenings - had collapsed against an onrushing wall of profound exhaustion. Yansee had not betrayed her, either. Against all odds, the renegade eeaiko had seen her safely to the farmhouse and, after a slightly tense encounter with Zox, to bed. Persevering through mumbled half-coherent resistance, she laid the Virangishwoman to sleep.


The city still held its poisons, however, and they festered under the fuming midday sun. Naxos and Tku had decided to leave An Zenui for the time being, heading back to the stead, and they had retrieved Desmond - none too popular a figure even if innocent - from his cell only to find him sleeping.

It helped with Tku’s cover story, at least, for Naxos had advised him to avoid Desmond’s wrath with a little white lie about how Benedetto had learned the truth. Why, even now, forces were roving about the city, searching for him, and the threat of mob justice loomed. They also, after a fashion, decided to make their return to the farmstead, away from prying eyes, crowds, and the ever-hovering danger of what was starting to be revealed as a far-reaching conspiracy.


It was into this cauldron that Tennaxi and Classa inadvertently walked, or, at least the latter did. Zarina had sped off in another direction unexpectedly during the early hours, and the ambiguously undead eeaiko who they were not certain they could trust had disappeared in a crowd. Now, they found themselves alone in the city. The clamour for Nyax-Acan was all about them, but there was no going unnoticed for very long. If centaurs were not a common sight, they warranted little more than a second glance, and Classa was generally a sponge for attention, prancing about, talking to people, and putting on a show. Tennaxi had never been noteworthy or different in any way that she could remember, and the stares and points quickly began to force a retreat. “Is it just me,” she whispered to the junior accomplice upon whose back she rode, “or are they… kinda hostile?” A handful, at different junctures, had already darted off in some other direction, seeming in a hurry to get there.

“They seem a lil’ weird,” the girl agreed warily.

“This isn’t how things usually are for… sorry, what was her name again?”

“Samaxi,” came a pointed reply. “And umm, no. They’re not.”

Then came a shout. “That’s him!” and another: “Her! It’s a her!”

“Fuckin’ excuse you!” Tennaxi retorted.

“It’s Potes-Palix!”

“IPotes-Palix.”

“It is!”

“He’s gotta be crazy.”

“Or ‘she’!”

“Didya think what disguise could fool us!?” shouted one boldly.

“The fuckin’ nerve!” cried another.

Tennaxi’s heart was hammering and, beneath her, she could feel Classa tensing up. The little centaur was about ready to bolt. “Classa,” she whispered, “What the hell did Samaxi get into?” but the girl only shook her head fearfully, as the first shout of “assassin!” leapt forth from the crowd. “I… I dunno!” came the high-pitched reply. “She just sold sweetwater.” She shook her head. “And she’s still here somewhere, or else…”

“They fu-” She paused and tempered her language in front of the child. “They got her or she’s in trouble.”

“Or maybe she’s dead!” wailed Classa, and she broke into a quick trot, the milling mass of people surrounding them jogging or running to keep pace.

Tennaxi tried to give her a reassuring squeeze. Riding was a harrowing thing without legs, she was learning. “I think she’s just lying low,” she tried, not sure if she believed it herself. One of their unwanted escorts tried to reach out for Classa’s tail and Samaxi summoned what she could of magic to bash him away, lest the centaur kick. That was it, then. It was on. A second one came, and then a third. Kinetic shoves and slams tried to hurl them off course and Tennaxi found that her capacity - always high by the standards of her people - was a good deal less now that there was a good deal less of her. “Run, Classa! Run!” The horse-girl took off and she was, indeed, fast. Wind rushed through Tennaxi’s and Classa’s hair alike, and the twin streamers rippled behind them. The crowds began to part. The gate hove into view. In the distance, Classa even thought she might’ve seen Tku and… some other human guy.

That was when there was pain: pain and sudden nothingness. When she came to once more, she was in a large room with stern-looking men and Tennaxi was nowhere to be seen.


If she was lost to Classa for now, virtually all of the others were eager to be out of sight as well. Amid swirling crowds and increasing scrutiny, they made a desperate flight towards Jascuan and the sirrahi’s bolt hole from two directions. Time after time, by trickery, stealth, intimidation, and cajolery, they escaped those who paid them extra attention. They drew close, their goal within sight, their pursuers evaded, and Tku, Desmond, Naxos, Ayla, Fiske, and Marceline dared hope that they might’ve pulled it off. They could slip in unnoticed and leave their hideaway safely anonymous.

Then, towering before them, out of nowhere, came a Seeker: a demon of the fourth tier. It filled most of the alley that it emerged from and there was no way that it could fail to draw the attention of anyone watching. From two angles, they laid waste to it, but it took all six of them and every ounce of power that they had. It drew exactly the unwanted attention they had feared, forcing them to assault and knock out two more interlopers There should never have been such a monster moving about in broad daylight in the middle of the city and, if it had been summoned in so precisely in their path, its summoner had been someone who possessed both great power and knowledge of who they were, where they were, and what they were doing.

They scrambled into their hole in the ground, some unexpected mirth and desperate camaraderie along the way, to find that Jascuan and Samaxi had preceded them. Five long hours of travel down a tunnel and an emergence in the desert as the shadows began to grow long saw them battle profound exhaustion, delirium, and claustrophobia. In the home stretch, they overtook Jascuan and Samaxi, making their way forward only with the help of magic. By the time that the expanded group straggled in through the archway of the farmhouse, Pauppaup was there with Yansee to greet them and Zarina was still in a land of blissful dreams. There were strangers in the house, prisoners in the shed, Classa and Tennaxi missing, and…

None of it mattered. Tku passed out on the spot. Desmond staggered and seated himself ungracefully on a sofa. Marceline, Fiske, and Ayla followed, finding whatever space looked comfortable. Mostlike, they did not even register the absence of their two allies, else they might’ve been stirred to action against their better judgement. The home was left to Zox, Yansee, and Pauppaup, exceptional trust placed in the latter two only by dint of circumstance.

Afternoon gave way to night and night to morning. Zarina was the first to rise, and Samaxi a few minutes later. The latter brewed an invigorating sweetwater drink and, soon, they were all up and present, but for their questionable eeaiko allies and - now they noticed for certain - Classa and Tennaxi. Surely, something had gone wrong. Surely, nobody would stoop so low as to harm an innocent child. There was so much to say - so much to be exchanged - but how much time did the group have? They needed a plan and they needed it quickly.

In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Some yasoi girl who's gonna piss half of you off. Enjoy.

In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Present: Esmii @BlackRoseSiren, Oksana @Ti, Yuliya @Suicharte, Marz @Th3King0fChaos, Yvain @jasbraq, Roslyn @Fallenreaper, Khaliun @YummyYummy, Sven, and Penny
F O R T P E R E K R E S T O K || ♫

It started with more disagreement. Everyone had their ideas and not all could be followed. The urgency built. The seconds ticked away. Agents of the Dieci Volti Nascosti closed in on the epicentre of the anti-magic disruption.

The students of Ersand’Enise split into two teams and evaded the legendary assassins for as long as they could, remaining within the bubble of safety where they could use their Gifts, scouring the city for the magic disruptors.

Then, they split.

Yuliya, Marz, Sven, Khaliun, and the latter’s mercenary ronin, Sugawara Yoshinori, headed straight for Fort Perekrestok at the confluence of the Kuska and Belykuska rivers. Yvain, Roslyn, Penny, Esmii, Oksana, and the remaining mercenary, Fritz Rudolf von Weigenen, went to investigate a warehouse they had already identified as suspicious some days earlier.

The latter group met with failure and made to cross the river instead, with the aid of magic, before the teams were too far apart. Oksana’s bridge of ice proved sturdy enough to resist the mighty river’s flow just long enough for most to cross, but Penny found herself stranded on the other side with a mild concussion after slipping and no way across.

Time was everything, and they could feel it eating away at their chances of recovering what they knew to be weapons of terror hidden throughout this remote Vossoriyan town, so they left her and carried on. It wasn’t long before they found themselves shadowed by nearly a dozen more shadowy operatives, and it was only Roslyn’s quick thinking that saved them from having to fight for their lives against odds that no gambler would’ve taken. A canny use of a smoke cannon, a feint attack, and some arcane magic threw their pursuers off and they raced to rejoin their allies.

Those allies, however, had not been so fortunate as they, for, as they had approached the small triangular island on which the fort perched, they came upon two things. The first was indisputably an active magic disruptor, and Yuliya rushed to turn it off. The second, however, was the man in the blue mask who had tried to murder Yuliya and Yvain less than a week earlier - not merely an agent of the Dieci Volti but one of its actual members: the legendary assassin Soldato. He was not alone.

Pursued relentlessly by nearly twenty enemies, the group of youths made a desperate crossing and then turned off their anti-disruptor at the key moment when their enemy tried to follow. Four plunged into the river, one drowned, two washed far downstream. It was then that they unleashed a withering counterattack, and agents of the enemy fell before them.

It was not a massacre, however. For all that the enemy bled, so did the students, now surrounded, now hemmed in. Yuliya had found the crate containing the magic disruptor and a hundred more of its kind - dormant - and she made a desperate play, with her nascent temporal magic, to teleport the entire thing back to the royal palace in Karamevo.

It was Soldato, though - the Blue Volto - who they could not best, however. His shot struck her and the girl’s concentration was broken, the contents of the splintered box scattered across the still-melting snows on the tundra some mile or so outside of town. One by one, she and her allies fell, gasping for breath, mortally wounded, perforated by his deadly accurate fire. Azure Devil - rifle of the magusjaeger volto - sung its deadly song and, for all that they were able to lay low the lesser members of the attacking cabal, they could not touch him.

Then, they beheld Penny’s fate. Their abandoned comrade had dived into the warehouse they had visited earlier and there found a similar crate of magic disruptors. While she had shut the active one off, the act had come at great cost. Waylaid by another Volto - the lilac Coccinella - she had been brutalized to the edge of death, as had many of them. Yet, the enemy never killed. They never seemed to seek unnecessary bloodshed. Again and again, they entreated the foreign youths to stop fighting and let them have what they had come for. Most of these attempts fell upon deaf ears.

Coccinella hovered in the air before the youths, however - not a human, but half-transformed beast: a thresher of some sort, with Penny impaled on one of her claws. She tossed the limp figure aside, and how the others ran for it! How they wasted their time rescuing, healing, and fretting over their friend. It was Sven who suffered next, pierced by Soldato’s bullets. He dropped to the ground, seemingly at the door of death.

They could feel it coming, too: the final remaining Volto, and his power was massive even from a distance. Then, the Eskandishman revived, seemingly out of nowhere, and his rage was something to behold. Gone was the meek, polite, academic Sven Bjørnsson that they knew best. With a bestial fury that they’d gained only glimpses of before, he tore through the Volti agents, making his way towards the Blue Volto. Even Soldato was laid low before the fury of the Southman.

Yet, he was not defeated. Sven was. Coccinella made quick work of him and left the Eskandr giant lying unconscious, right back where he’d started. It was… finished. They were surrounded. The final Volti’s forces had arrived to cut them off and the dainty little Lilac had revealed her true, monstrous power. She was one of the ten - The Originals - an ancient wildblood of unfathomable power. Against this, against Soldato, against two dozen others and the final Volto - as yet unseen - victory did not seem to be an option.

There were two factors that the enemy hadn’t counted on, however. First was the sheer, relentless spite of Yuliya Ilyanovna Vassilieva, Tsesarevna of the Vossoriyan Empire. If there was one thing that she wanted above all else at that very moment, it was to reap a terrible vengeance upon Soldato for the injury that he had caused her and her allies. The second was that she had, in her possession, a chaos marble. This, she launched toward the sniper as he perched on a rooftop across the river and there were none present who could stop it.

There are moments where it becomes clear that one’s enemy is not actually an evil being, and such was the case for Soldato. If Yuliya had not a care for what would be destroyed or how many would die from her attack, Soldato did, and he threw himself into the path of the projectile as it was still in flight over the river, knowing that he was a doomed man but hoping to prevent the death of dozens of innocents.
R A D O M I R || ♫
Then, the world wavered and there hovered, in the air, a man. He was tall and strongly built, with a full and well-trimmed beard and richly ornamented robes adorned with the ancient seal of the Vossoriyan Royal House. Yet, most of all, it was his face. As if carved from a block of ice, it turned to the feuding parties, even as he released the limp and broken figure of Soldato, who he had grasped, with indescribable force, by the neck. The corpse splashed into the frigid water and was gone.

Radomir, legendary protector of Vossoriya and - some claimed - its first emperor reborn, had arrived. He regarded Coccinella and the other Volti like the insects they were as he took a pair of knives from his pocket and slipped the chaos marble casually into it. His gaze was cold and unblinking. "You have five seconds to get out of my city," he commanded, "Or these are going into your necks." Immediately and reverently, Yuliya sunk to her knees before him, only a single question on her lips. "Почему ты здесь, сэр??" (Why are you here, sir?)

Radomir's cloak and ribbons flapped in the dusky breeze as the last rays of sun disappeared beneath the horizon. His icy eyes flicked away from the Volti for just a moment and took in the form of Marz well below him. "This boy -" He narrowed them. "has my hammer."

Then, however, he judged that about five seconds had passed, and it was time for these Revidian criminals to learn why they should never have come to Vossoriya. First was the illusionist who Yvain had been speaking with. She exploded upon contact, chunks of flesh, shards of bone, and ribbons of skin raining down across the small courtyard. A second was cleanly decapitated by the elder sanguinaire's hand, his head hitting the ground with a meaty 'conk'. So sudden and terrible was the violence that the Volti were slow to respond. A third and fourth were roasted alive where they stood by the sanguinaire elder's mere gaze.

He came for the next one on his hitlist, eyes wide and burning with ravenous bloodlust, only for his unstoppable force to be met by an immovable object. Coccinella was zipping and whirling above, but Radomir had run headlong into something massive, like a bird hitting a window. He rebounded and reeled, shaking his head to clear it. In his path stood a mountain of a man, his wild, bristly beard poking out from beneath a yellow mask with a smiling face, his gigantic arm steaming where Radomir had impacted, and his great gut protruding before him. He straightened. "Bad idea coming alone, kompis." He shook his head. "Imagine that: living a thousand years, founding a dynasty, becoming a legend, just to die here to some fat guy." From behind the mask came the high, unsettling sound of the man's laughter, tinged with hints of madness. He seemed endlessly amused by his own taunt, giddy and eager.

Radomir's face remained stoic as he, too, straightened. "Who says I came alone?" he asked, and a half-dozen oprichnina of the Zavesa Imperii (Veil of the Empire) materialized around the courtyard. A tall, pale woman was among them, standing beside Yuliya, and the girl might have recognized her from the portraits handing within the family palace: her own great grandmother, Ekaterina. There was a distinct resemblance between the two. She leaned in and whispered something in her younger descendant's ear before drawing back. Her peers were already starting to engage the Volti in battle and, just then, Radomir lashed out once again at the colossus that some may have recognized as Il Sorriso (The Smiler) or Volto Giallo. This time, he had the Chaos Marble clearly in hand and was aiming to use it.

The oprichnina turned to the students. "My friends, you have helped us much, and your service will be rewarded. I ask one more thing." She gestured broadly, taking in the rest of the city. "There are two more crates like this one. If this terrorists retrieve them, our country - and many others - will burn." She glanced up above as Volto Lilla went hurtling through a wall with one of her fellow high sanguinaires in her clutches - not that anyone aside from Yuliya and perhaps Penny could've known what they were. "I know where two of these are. Me and another officer will go with you."

Then, the junior Volto was there: an insectile being with few human features remaining. "I say to you, once again, that the greater evil would be to let these devices fall into the hands of Vossoriya," she buzzed. "You are only our enemies so long as you fight us." The monster leveled an arm at Yuliya, "Except for -" A half-dozen skewers shot up from the ground, furrowing the wildblood's carapace and forcing her to dodge aside. "Run!" shouted their guide. "For the warehouse where you first found them! I will follow after I deal with this menace!"
I N T H E B A L A N C E || ♫
There was, indeed, a menace, but what form it took was very much a matter of opinion. Even as magic returned to Kirimansk and its people began to rejoice and clean away, in earnest, the debris of these two weeks of calamity, others fled the growing conflagration at Fort Perekrestok and agents of the Dieci Volti Nascosti swarmed about, hard at work. They had claimed the crate full of disruptors that Penny had fought for and lost. They had come upon the second crate as well, out to the east, and stolen it. Even now, they were seeking the chaos marbles hidden beneath the town in its sacred caves and searching the sparse taiga forest to the north beyond for the precious devices that Yuliya had spilled there. Time was, once again, wasting, and much hung in the balance.
In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Present: Ayla Arslan @Ti, Evander Fino Synesti @RezonanceV, Tku Pictor @dragonpiece, Fiske Flachstrauch @jasbraq, and Zarina Al-Nader @YummyYummy, Desmond Catulus @Th3King0fChaos
The meeting had mostly broken up by the time that they returned, Marci downcast and anxious, Fiske much the same. Egosto-Alguo had slipped back into the workhouse where he would spend the rest of the following day, along with Uixel. Stela had hurried back to her home and children, bidding her sister-in-law a quick farewell and some cautionary words. It was only Cazelui, Jascuan, and Evander remaining, Samaxi having drifted off to sleep. The last of the three was nursing a cigar pensively, as had become his habit of late.

“Care to explain why you’re slinking back in with your tails between your legs?” As usual, the Revidian did not mince words. Marci shot him a hooded look. “Things went bad. We should lay low.” She quickly retreated towards the backrooms. Then, for a moment, she cracked. “I…” her gaze dipped to her shoes for a second. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I need to go.” With that, she disappeared.

For all that he often seemed hard, prickly, and unforgiving, Evander was well aware that he had crossed a social boundary earlier with Samaxi and he was loath to do so again. Marceline was young, she was a lady, and she was clearly hurting. He set his sights on fitter prey. “With her, I won’t push,” he began implacably, “but from you, I need to know.”

Old man Jascuan was there, then, among them, sitting on the table, feet resting on a chair, legs crossed. He nodded slowly. “What happened, boy?” he asked. “Where are Desmond and Tku, and just how much danger are we in?”
♫ | T E A R S D O N ' T F A L L , T H E Y C R A S H | ♫

For Marci, it was all peaks and valleys - almost overwhelming, but now she found herself in the deepest of the latter. The youngest of the students rushed into the other room without even looking, threw herself onto the bed, and pulled her knees up to her chest. A force for good. Leave the world a better place than you found it. Those had been her mother’s wishes. They still were, as far as she knew.


♫ | F L A G G I N G | ♫

Elsewhere, it was Tennaxi who was pushing open doors. It was a slow, arduous process, but she’d been given run of the house, for what it was worth. “Zox?” she called, slipping beneath a saloon-style gate. “Uinza? Zox?” (Hello? Zox?) It still felt like a strange dream, or some kind of game, being stuck at this height, scooting along the floor on her hands and rear. She’d been pumped full of chemical magic and the pain was gone, but there was no shaking the surreal nature of it and the deep-set feeling that she was ruined, and permanently. It bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to boil over, but she’d done an admirable job getting on with things.


♫ | G R A C I O U S H O S T S | ♫

If Tennaxi was set on rescuing her friend, there appeared to be nobody able to rescue Ayla Arslan. Though the wily Torragonese had succeeded in stalling Talo and Wesca while her friend Marci had snooped, she was now alone with the pair: a smaller fish in a tank of barracudas, but at least a somewhat… fabulous one. It was Talo who seemed to be most in charge, and him to whom her question was addressed.


♫ | N E T S A Z A I | ♫

The sun rose over An Zenui, the streets of the great city already coming to life. Thin trickles of people scurried about in the predawn: cazenax, sirrahi, and the others that had been brought into being through the efforts of the first. The barest amount of dew collected on its myriad surfaces, much of it carefully channeled into clay pots or metal pans or catchment basins. Great steel plates on arms were swung out into the sun’s rays to warm for the day. By the evening, thousands would be cooking off of them and eating.


♫ | S M O K E | ♫

Meanwhile, perhaps such a fate would’ve seemed a blessing to the two humans and two sirrahi who were being shoved relentlessly from sideroads to streets to grand boulevards. The officers who had arrested Desmond and Tku were smarting for blood, and they were quick to heap abuse on the cop-killers. If their actions technically fell outside of what the law allowed, well… they were the law, after all, and they allowed it. Bindings were clipped on too tight, weapons roughly confiscated, and any excuse used to rain down kicks and punches.


♫ | N Y A X - A C A N | ♫

They were bound by the wrists, bags tied over their heads tightly enough to nearly suffocate the pair. All around them, the Hall of Justice was packed with bodies - they could sense hundreds on the ground floor, hundreds more packing the balconies, and many more gathered outside, trying to get in. Shouts and jeers rained down upon them and, more than once, the four found themselves pelted with garbage until the perpetrators were roughly ushered out. Angry as the people here were, the dignity of the court could not be called into question.

Desmond and Tku found themselves ‘helped into’ and then bound to their seats as official-sounding voices rose, augmented by magic. By the growing silence around them, one could assume that they were demanding order and silence. Finally, they had it, and the scampering footsteps of Naxos could be heard rushing up beside them. “Don’t worry, guys. We’ve got a good case here,” he whispered. “Don’t be alarmed. They’re gonna announce stuff and remove the bags.”

“The accused will now rise!” called one of the official-sounding voices. “The aggrieved will now rise!” it concluded, as they were forced to their feet.

It was quiet enough that they could hear footsteps somewhere out in front of themselves. There was a loud but soft ‘thump’ and a collective intake of breath and an outbreak of hushed, excited murmurs. Then, they stopped in reverent silence.

The bags were ripped away roughly enough that Desmond’s neck was nearly wrenched, but he held steady. All around were walls of cazenax. At the other table was the aggrieved woman, who made a show of recoiling from the two sirrahi. It seemed that a plea hearing had turned into an entire trial within the span of no more than a few hours.

That was not what drew the attention of Desmond and Tku, however. “Presiding, his eminence, the ever-wise and merciful Nyax-Acan.”


In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Present: Esmii @BlackRoseSiren, Oksana @Ti, Yuliya @Suicharte, Marz @Th3King0fChaos, Yvain @jasbraq, Roslyn @Fallenreaper, Khaliun @YummyYummy, Sven, and Penny
The Aftermath || ♫

It was, simply put, a brawl. Even as the Hegelans fought their way out of confinement, the world above shook with magic and fury. It all came to a head with a crazed hegumen losing control of an atomic blast when he found himself once again cut off from his ability to use magic. It was only a momentary lapse, but it was enough to unleash further devastation across the surrounding countryside.

Kirimansk was not spared either. If those strong in the Gift were able to resist the incredible force of the explosion, those not were - as usual - helpless amid the collateral of their magical betters’ clash. Some hundred fifteen souls perished in one fell instant, but the heroes stood triumphant, the tyrannical enemies vanquished at their feet. At least a dozen of the monks - false and true - lay dead around them and about a third of the monastery of St. Artyom lay in ruins. Some people embraced each other or the newly-recovered Marz. Some celebrated.

Sven flopped onto his back, laughing, crying - his emotions in turmoil. Esmii fell to the ground beside him and embraced him. The enormous lad thrust one arm in the air and stretched out his middle finger. “And fuck you one more time.” He shook his head, lying there, adrenaline still coursing through him. “Yeah, fuck you!” agreed Penny. Esmii stuck her middle finger up in the yanii way. Yuliya chimed in with a few words in Vossoriyan and Oksana joined her. It was cathartic. It was a desperate sort of relief, and Sven recognized it as such. He was alive: alive and well - and so was Esmii, but how many others had died because they had picked a fight with some very bad people? Would it have been better to step aside? Marz and a few dozen other hegelans were now outside, blinking, stretching, glancing uneasily up at the sky. The monks that had survived were being rounded up by the mountain-dwellers. Some turned tail and ran. Some accepted their fate.

Penny sat on the ground as well, ‘cross-legged’. She leaned back and took a few deep breaths. People were already healing each other and she would assist as needed. It was a binder’s sacred duty, after all. First, however, she just… breathed, feeling her lungs fill, the life that yet carried on in her chest. Yet, it was unsatisfying. Looking over at Sven and Esmii, she was - as she had often been during this week and a half - keenly aware of Ashon’s absence and the danger he was likely in hunting that vile beast in Kerremand. More than that, though, it was the smell: there was dust and fire in the air. For all that she lived, other people’s stories had ended, in sudden flashes of fear and pain that they had been helpless against. The past year had taught her to not give a damn about those who initiated violence - she had sent a dozen or more to hell by her own hand and would continue to do so as was her divine prerogative - but the innocents had done nothing. To callously employ magics that killed indiscriminately… She started to gather herself.

Then, a shadow fell across her and the perrenchwoman looked up, shielding her eyes from the late afternoon glare. It was Marz, and while he stood closest to her, he addressed them all. “Aye, take yer moment,” he allowed, “I reckon’ ye’ve earned it. We all ‘ave, but it’s only fer a moment.” A few of the other hegelans nodded somberly, and one - a great, grizzled giant of an older man - spoke up. “They’ve been keepin’ us in there, working underground.” He sniffed and glanced about at the scenes of devastation nearby, muttering under his breath momentarily. “Workin’ on chaos marble weapons.”

The Enemy Moves || ♫

Marz turned the weapon in his hands over a couple of times as the other hegelans and then his fellow students looked its way. “An’ there’s a lot more where they came from,” he confirmed.

Khaliun floated quietly nearby, her two mercenary companions no more than a couple of yards distant. The light of the setting sun burned vast and golden-orange behind her. Yvain crossed his arms. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but we still haven’t found the boxes that we came here for.”

“I think is safe we can say they are ones with anti-magic device, no?”

Penny, brow furrowed, clambered to her feet and nodded. “If we can use magic again, we can use that to track them, right?” She nodded further, recalling. She glanced about, realizing that she was the only one who had been part of last year’s clandestine operation on Isla d’Amato. “Last year,” she admitted, “I was called by the late Paradigm -” She quickly made the sign of the Pentad. “To undertake a... task. There, we encountered… items similar to these. When active, they would give off a very particular sonic and magnetic signature.” It was burned into her memory and there was no forgetting the feel of it: how she had nearly died, how those horrid snake people that the others so loved had kept her locked up and isolated, how they had turned those infernal devices on, how they had done it again and again. “I can recognize it. I can track it. If I’m within sensing range, I can lead you there.”

“But the shchool wants us to retrieve theshe thingsh?” Sven retorted. He shook his head, unafraid to question authority. “I shay they’re a weapon of terror. We should deshtroy them.”

Yuliya pursed her lips and nodded. “You know what? I agree with him.” She glanced about. “How many people still alive if these things are not here?”

Penny, once again, found herself disagreeing with her friend. “Guys,” she interjected amid the burgeoning consensus, “We’re forgetting something.”

“And that is…?” Yvain pushed off from the wall he’d been leaning against.

“We don’t know who made them,” Roslyn interjected. “Or where they came from,” Penny agreed. “And if they’re still out there, they’ll just make more.”

Marz nodded uneasily, stroking his scruffy beard. “Aye, and we should be ready.” He scowled.

"Yes, and magic keeps going in and out now!" Oksana chimed in, sharing the others' concern. With so many speaking and so quickly, it had been difficult for her to keep up, but she'd caught that much. Penny nodded. “I mean, it's an improvement,” Roslyn offered, “but also another mystery we should probably get to the bottom of.”

“Ehhh, eheh." Marz scratched at the back of his head, a bit sheepish, but proud, nonetheless. "That was... actually the lo’ of us." He gestured towards his fellow mountain-dwellers. “This wondrous thing -” He gestured towards an arm-sized mechanism held by a rather heavyset fellow, who smiled at the compliment and blushed. “Not you, yeh tub o' lard!" he barked, and a few of them laughed. “The device. It's an anti-anti-magic device, I guess yeh could call it." He shook his head and another hegelan interjected. "Needs a better name." Marz waved him away dismissively. “I know, I know, alright!?" He turned back to the others. “Anyhow, Thah's what's been givin' yeh yer magic back in fits n' starts." He posted hsi hands on his hips matter-of-factly. “And if we could manage somethin' like that in secret, in a Gods-damned prison, then I give us a damn good shot o' reverse-engineering one o’ them things an’ finding an even prettier way teh counter it.”

Yvain crossed his arms again. “Impressive," he admitted, nodding along, "But isn’t it all a bit of a moot point when this town is crawling with Volti and their hired thugs?” He looked to Yuliya for support. “Have we not forgotten that she and I were accosted and nearly murdered by them?”

Not quite facing the perrenchman, Sven rolled his eyes. Hard to forget when you’ve reminded us at least three times already, he thought, but he said nothing.

"Is true," she confirmed. "They need death."

Esmii passed a concerned look around. “We can’t just forget about the chaos marbles,” she reminded them, and the hegelans nodded in chorus. “I’ve seen what they can do and it’s... terrifying.”

“We need get them,” an elder hegelan rasped in half-way passable Avincian. “We need break them.”

“And who here can handle a chaos marble?” Yvain asked, glancing at Khaliun’s hammer. “I know of two.” Penny and Yuliya glanced at each other. “I think Yuliya and I can,” the former advised. “Maybe we should split," she continued. "At least two who can handle the marbles with our hegelan friends to lead them. The rest with me to find the crates.”

“To destroy them?” Roslyn asked pointedly, still aware that they were not necessarily all on the same page.

Then, Khaliun spoke her first words since the encounter. “They’re moving,” she said simply, raising her mighty weapon with the help of kinetic magic. “Who?” Yuliya prodded, shaking her head. “Always I tell this girl, say full sentence! She never listen.”

The tethered tilted her head to the side. “The Volti.” She blinked. “Dozens of them.”
Action Opportunities || ♫

Welcome to the penultimate chapter of Cold Comfort! Our group of students has not only managed to finally reunite with the recently-escaped Marz, they have also become aware of the anti-magic device managed to survive the battle with the crazed abbot and the false monks of the Order of St. Artyom. However, the town of Kirimansk has once again paid a heavy price. As the ten youths weigh whether or not that was worth it, a new opportunity and a potentially deeper crisis present themselves, intertwined: The hegelans reveal that they were kidnapped from their homes specifically for the purpose of crafting a weapons using the terrifying power of chaos marbles. There is, in fact, an entire arsenal of the things hidden within the sacred caves. The anti-anti-magic device (better name pending) that they have developed will allow people within about a three hundred yard bubble to use magic normally, even within an anti-magic zone. Doing so, they may finally be able to find the crates that they were sent here for. What they do when that comes to pass remains up in the air and very much undecided. First, they need to get there, and fast. Before any further discussion can take place, Khaliun reveals that she has sensed multiple forms moving in a coordinated manner. She believes these to be agents of the infamous terrorist group known as the Dieci Volti Nascosti, one of whose members assaulted and nearly murdered Yuliya and Yvain a few days earlier. The clock is ticking and now things become a desperate race against time and a well-ensconced enemy with considerable resources as well as nebulous motivations and potentially hidden power. Before any action may be taken, the group must decide:

OOC: Where each of them stand on what to do with the boxes and chaos marbles.
IC: Where each of them stand on the boxes and chaos marbles.
IC: How they'll be splitting themselves as a group, if at all, and how they'll approach the Dieci Volti agents at work throughout the city.

Best of luck and happy posting! Most of this will be handled in our discord server, aside from your main forum posts. I expect that a good deal will be played out live this coming Saturday.
In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Present: Rikard Ambrus, Yalen Castel @pantothenic, Valerian Remi Leclere @yoshua171, Maura Mercador @Ti, Salomé Xiuyang Solari @Emeth, Trypano Somia @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid Penderson @dragonpiece, Niallus Saberhagen @McKennaJ71, Abdel Varga @YummyYummy, and Neki Kaureerah Wenhan
A Clash for the Ages || ♫

The sky writhed and roiled above Wanggang as cosmic entities clashed with the fate of the nation and possibly the entire world on the line. Vast black tentacles blotted out the moons and stars. Heroes of yore clashed with the villains of the present. Enormous bursts of energy - enough to level a city - were released again and again.

Nobody saw any of it. At least… nobody who wasn’t a powergazer or a highly skilled user of magic. At most, some might’ve felt changes in the air pressure, or been woken up in the depths of the night without quite understanding why. They soon fell back into sleep, blissfully unaware.

For those within the grounds of the Imperial Palace, however, the struggle fast became the only reality that they knew. Brother Ash - once the Quentic hero known as Sir Rodric Danneman of Lindermetz - mocked and taunted, having made a temporary alliance with his enemies. From the fabric of space and time itself, he called forth versions of his past allies from the Great Heathen War, fighting alongside them against the Twin Emperors’ forces and the students who had sold their souls to the tyrants for personal gain. Hildr the Red clashed with the Black Guard known as Smoking Bandit. Camille de Saumurre faced down her fellow somnian Yalen Castel. The mighty King Arcel the Victorious did battle with the overwhelming power of Jocasta Re. The Laughing Knight himself was left to the Black Guard Stormcloud, once upon a time his dubious ally, now… an enemy?

Yet, there were other clashes that, if not quite as grand, were nonetheless important. The Nikanese ronin Seki had called forth a copy of the storied hero Hitoshi, who had fought during the Himitsu no Senso. These engaged in a prolonged struggle against the Black Guard duo of Cold Soup and Mountain Spring and their initially reluctant student ally Xiuyang Solari. Meanwhile, Maura, Kaureerah, and the chicken that occupied the former’s lap found themselves facing down the Nikanese tyrant Lady Matsuhara, once again somehow alive following her apparent death at Jocasta’s hands. The two girls were both far better known as charmers than fighters, and what use was a chicken, all told?

Wu Long, a far mightier being who had so roared about the students’ betrayal, was called into battle against the Twins themselves, while the foreign youths set to work felling his - and formerly their own - allies. Cruelly cut down by the Black Guard Golden Monkey was Dragon Smirk, who had offered both Valerian and Niallus hospitality, friendship, and rescue from certain death. In the end, they had decided for greater power, convincing themselves of their moral righteousness and the Black Guard’s honesty. Convinced, also, was Ingrid, who had been swayed by Evil Eye’s emotional entreaty and appeared very ready to gain the powers of a sanguinaire for herself. Only a timely call for mercy by Evil Eye prevented her from killing the slain Dragon Smirk’s sister - Elephant Mouth - as the girl mourned her brother and loudly cursed their betrayal.

The Great White Dragon of Frost and the Golden Dragon of Fortune both fell, the first after being transformed into a hideous three-headed abomination and forcing the students into a terrifying hallucinatory world to rival the very worst of West Callanasti voodoo. The noisy heroes who had felled it and its counterpart strutted about and gloated, the only more-than-perfunctory misgivings among the group expressed by Abdel and the ever-optimistic Trypano who had, in fact, originally sided against the others before - like Kaureerah - being quietly drawn back onside.

The death toll only grew from there as the heroes of yore fell, as did Camille at Yalen’s hands and Hitoshi by way of Xiuyang and Mountain Spring, or were turned, like Hildr by Smoking Bandit. Cold Soup met her end at Seki’s blade and another half-dozen ogauraq allies of the dragons fell in battle. While Laughing Squid and Sleeping Carp battled the Progenitor to a standstill in a contest full of ebbs and flows, the gargantuan power of Wu Long pressed even the Twin Emperors to their limits.

Titan

Then, the Golden Dragon of Fortune collapsed, brought to the edge of death by the combined efforts of Abdel, Trypano, Rikard, and Golden Monkey. Out of him spilled not only his life, but a great many secrets - world-shattering ones were he to be believed: the irrepressible evil of the sanguinaires, the purpose of the dragons and the primordial forces of order who had created them to fight chaos. It was these great beings referred to as ‘Knowers’ who lay beyond time and space lorded over all of creation and now they had been angered.

The air roiled with a strange, rich sort of energy. Try as they might, the mortals below could not properly sense it though they knew it was there. They could not draw from it. They could not use it.

Trypano, seeing that the dragon had made its final choice, decided to heed its words. She looked quickly to see if anyone else required aid in fleeing before she turned heel and made haste. Abdel stood up, still unable to run, and limped back until he could straddle Qadira. “Dammit ...” he cursed, upset over the outcome. He had shown mercy, and yet this beast - no, this individual - was still dying. And by the looks of it, something else was at play. Thoughts on the ways of the world were put aside in favour of his own survival. He and the Skuggvars made as much distance as they could. Rikard, genuinely unnerved, sensed something that he didn't understand. In many cases, his natural curiosity might’ve taken hold. In this instance, caution won the day. "Go!" he screamed. "Go! Go! Go!"

The dragon lasted another ten seconds, perhaps. Then, it began.

♫

The sky opened like a massive eye of the purest blinding white. The scale of it was colossal: stretching across the entire horizon for as far as anyone could see. It parted like a lazy eye awakening, and then it parted further. From within the blazing whiteness an endless black tentacle crawled forth, dwarfing any living beneath it by orders of magnitude.

Then, a second one appeared.

And a third. They snaked and swirled about the vast white eye, their suckers grasping and popping. There came the sense of something hulking beyond - just on the other side of the veil.

The Progenitor, about to glory in his nearly-complete triumph, paused. The Twin Emperors were brought to a standstill, as was Wu Long. Arcel and Jocasta, in the middle of a contest that was as much one of rhetoric as one of strength, pulled back. People ran and screamed. A fourth and fifth tentacle appeared. A sixth. A seventh. An eighth.

A thunderous red glow issued from the depths of the infernal whiteness. A gargantuan eye peered down at the tiny world from above, vast and ancient in its intelligence and intent: a being of pure calculation.

Or was it? Was not this display more than what was strictly necessary? Did not it provoke primordial terror? And this eye, how it looked down, searching the green lands below. What it saw and what it judged, the mortals that it gazed upon could not fathom.

Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light!

Then, from within the light emerged a new darkness - a second darkness. Itself, it opened like an eye. A small figure emerged - small compared to the vast horror that surrounded it. It was, much in contrast, a thing of whiteness. It began floating down.

But then it turned. Its call echoed across the landscape, heard by a hundred ears in a hundred different voices - that which they would be most likely to listen to and to heed. "Do not run!" it urged. "Stand! Fight!" And that burning white figure - the will and fury of humanity and her sister species - stood alone before the behemoth, blazing at it, implacable.

It was the Traveler.

♫

Her form was that of Enna Lantisca, among the greatest of mages to have ever lived and a companion of the great Hugo Hunghorasz’s youth. She reached out with all of the magic that she could muster and struck one of the enormous tentacles. Momentarily, it recoiled, but then it redoubled.

Those below were galvanized. Rodric and Stormcloud paused in their halfhearted battle to add their strength. Ingrid gathered her atomic power. Trypano called upon her blood magics, and Arcel of Perrence turned from Jocasta to face the new threat. "I stand, once more, as humanity's shield." He gathered his energy. His companion Hildr loosed a Holy Lance on the beast and Captain Zhu attempted to follow. His explosive spell blew up in his face instead, and only a quick reaction saved him from self-immolation.

Others were not cowed by the mishap, however. Captain Zhao struck true. Kaureerah, over the panicked fluttering and clucking of the chicken that had accompanied her and Maura, managed to launch a sonic attack with her lute. Maura materialized a multitude of spikes that she hurled into the heavens.

Yalen had not been there to hear the last words of the dragons, but he had borne witness to the arrival of the eldritch abomination and, sensing the great danger it posed to everyone present, he decided to do what was necessary. His hated enemy was within arm's reach, but apprehending the Traveler was a duty that could wait for another time. "Smoking Bandit!" Yalen called to the black guard with a hand outstretched. "Lend me your black powder!" However, the young somnian found it already on him. Smoking Bandit nodded.

Yalen nodded back. His intent was obvious: It was time to start a chain reaction. He uncapped the powder horn and thrust it into the sky, allowing its contents to scatter into the wind. The young priest placed a hand underneath his robe and held the dragon's jewel aloft, igniting the ancient fuel source so that it might serve as a catalyst for his final attack. "Burn." The air exploded into flames, and under Yalen's control all of that chemical energy was sent screaming towards the pitch black invader.

Abdel and his beastly companions gathered a colossal amount of electromagnetic energy and prepared to release it. “I will NOT run!” the youth roared. He cast.

Then Xiulan poured what little magic she knew into the growing onslaught. Yin gave it what she had. So did little Yong. Xiuyang let loose an arcane lance. Jocasta threw her considerable power in as well, telekinetically grabbing one of the massive tentacles and wrenching it away from an intended target.

Valerian, exhausted, bruised, and battered, watched as the sky itself was split by a great eye, which was swiftly joined by one, two, three...and finally eight vast limbs. Vel paled, but his mind went to what might happen if he did nothing, if any of them chose not to act. He pushed to his feet and closed his eyes. Legs shaky beneath him, Valerian, Remi. Leclere nonetheless decided to give it his all. Despite his injuries, his exhaustion, and the occasional flare of pain that ran through him from overexerting himself, he pushed forward. "Why stop now," he murmured as a look of intense concentration slipped onto his features.

He drew all of the energy he could get, weaving his three schools into a single attack, but his exhaustion showed through. Despite his efforts, his casting was clearly weakened. He pressed on, conjuring a projectile of pure kinetic force, filled with pressurized fire and separated from a layer of extremely flammable air. Nonetheless, it proved drastically weaker than it ought to have been: unstable, leaking energy. Still, it was something. He unleashed it, hurling the great lance of force and fire up and at the eye of the tremendous beast. Perhaps it would be the straw that broke the camel's back.

He was not the only one who was struggling to make much of an impact. With Maura’s encouragement Kaureerah looked at the chicken that had proven a constant distraction. She knew that there was more to it. There had to be. "Yoo, Eye knoow yoo aur noo naurmel boord. Eye need yoo too look et mee." She made eye contact with its beady little black eyes. It looked back at her. Chicken let out its sixth Primordial Cluck. It grew, and an aura of heat began to emanate from it.

Mountain Spring leapt far into the sky and struck a tentacle with a colossal kinetically-displaced punch, while Golden Monkey burned it with fantastic fire. Energy poured out of Evil Eye's ravaged eye socket, peeling away flesh and skin. A burning crimson Polaris Beam stretched a mile up into the sky and struck the monstrosity. The Black Guard smoked and bled and, when it was done, collapsed in a heap, unconscious.

The ronin Seki looked to the others, having prepared his retreat, but his eyes met his former combatant, Mountain Spring, before he spoke. "Help me, and we can both bury our grudges. Otherwise, we'll meet our comrades far sooner than we should. Whatever you are, that thing is worse."

Spring's expression was flat. Wordlessly, he seized the man with both his hands and complied without even a grunt of exertion. Seki was fired at the speed of a literal missile right at the eye of the storm. The ronin slashed at reality as he was launched, creating a multitude of ripples as he ascended to the height of the eye. Such a disgusting sight was unfit to look upon this beautiful world that the gods had crafted, however corrupted it may have become. He struck true and the titan recoiled.

Sir Rodric was not to be outdone, however. "WHHHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! EAT SHIT, YOU TENTACLED FUCK!!!" he brayed and, from his hands leapt a colossal roiling explosion that brightened half the sky.

Stormcloud sighed. A pear was ripped out of a blackened portal by her. She ate it and her form shifted: a being with horns of a Qilin and black hair flowing like a fiery mane. Her blade turned into a massive Tetsubo. She raised her almighty club and descended a blackened heavenly wrath onto the monstrosity.

Meanwhile, chicken flapped its wings. "Coome aun! Yoo stoopeed boord!" Kaureerah hissed, gesturing madly at the chicken. She tried to manifest it. She tried to rely on this new magic she was tapping into. Chicken let out its seventh Primordial Cluck. It grew, now, to a monstrous size - easily that of a thresher. Kaureerah's eyes lit up. "Yes!" she crowed. "Yessss, mai meenioon!!!"

The students and Black Guard had started something, it was clear. They had fought when most had thought only to flee. Heartened by the sight, the true heavyweights now threw their full power at the monstrosity. The twin emperors, as one, struck at the great horror that threatened their nation, and it roared and thrashed. Wu Long, the Dragon Emperor, reeled back. He made to flee. Then, he stopped. There was no avoiding this. He turned and opened his enormous mouth.The vast red and silver dragon breathed a stream of molten metal that speared the colossus right in the eye.

The Traveler was everywhere. Now taking the form of a crimson-robed man, he struck again. There was no visible damage, but the monstrosity pulled back.

Hildr launched another lance. Yawen made use of her tethered range. Jocasta tore at space and time itself, deleting chunks of the expanding horror.

Chicken released its eighth Primordial Cluck. A greater aura of misfortune blossomed. "Aulmoost there!" Kaureerah encouraged. "Yoo cen doo eet, mai leetle feathered frend!" With that encouragement, the huge bird let out its ninth Primordial Cluck.

It grew once more, until it towered over all but the dragons. Its feathers gleamed with a metallic light. Its eyes burned ghostly blue. "Cheep"

"Goo, mai meenioon. Nauw ees yoor taim!" Kaureerah took out her lute and launched an attack of her own. The chicken looked rather cross.

Then, as the fell god descended from the heavens, Lucky Dragon collapsed. She lay there on the ground unmoving. A small, sleek dragon with iridescent indigo scales and glowing orange eyes rocketed in from over the palace. It released a burst of concentrated VOID energy. This struck true and the beast let out a shriek.

There was only the Progenitor left to act. He was nowhere to be seen, until… He appeared behind the Traveler. "Your bleeding heart was always your weakness." She had changed forms once again and he reached out to strike her through the heart.

The Traveler grabbed his fist. She tilted her head to one side. "And yours was always your predictable deviousness." She snapped his fist. Her eyes burned with fury and, from one thousand feet up in the sky, she flung him into the hungering whiteness. "Die, tyrant."

The attacks continued to pour in, hammering at the colossus in the sky. Then, it moved. The combined efforts of everyone - of all of these epic heroes and villains - of their great ambition, their rage, their will to live… It was not enough. Marhazannet descended upon Retan.

Burning Heavens || ♫

That was when the chicken released its tenth Primordial Cluck. The sound was immense - tremendous. It reverberated across hills and mountains. It intensified the effect of every ounce of damage dealt to the great black horror. It gave humanity and her sisters the extra boost that they needed to put them over the top. The sonic wave struck the tentacled colossus and it reeled backwards in pain. Great sheets of darkness began to slough away and it… began to retreat. The eyelike gap in reality began to close. "Now!" Shouted the Traveler. "One final push!"

“We finish this!” yelled Abdel. Vel's expression hardened. "You're not leaving alive," he proclaimed, calling upon whatever vestiges he could to level one more blow at the titan's fleeing form. Ingrid looked to Trypano, "Make me Uranium!"

Seeing as Trypano was in the thick of it with the rest of them, combining her assault with Ingrid’s was indeed an appropriate choice. With binding she drew from the giant entity itself, pulling at powers outside her knowledge to try and fabricate the materials Ingrid needed.

Lucky Dragon bit down on one of the tentacles. Stormcloud used her unfathomable, Oni-like strength to seize that same appendage, dragging it along with her fellow Black Guard. “Wu Long!” screamed Abdel at the top of his lungs. “Help her!” he pointed at his fellow, younger dragon.

Yalen could feel it. In its moment of weakness, the creature's power had faded to the point where even an insignificant mortal like him could touch its unfathomable essence. He could command it. "Do not underestimate the strength of humanity, monster. You will submit!" Yalen shouted into the sky. It shifted and wavered and let out an ear-piercing roar. Then… "IGNITE!"

The White Eye began to close. The titan began to escape. It was almost out of their reach, no matter what fire and fury they poured its way. Then, it stopped. It twisted in midair and a massive burst of energy poured forth from its eyes, beak, and suckers. Thick black smoke belched out in every direction. Writhing and twisting, it turned its fury on a target: Chen Linlin, better known as Evil Eye. A tentacle moved to crash down on her unconscious form in a final, spiteful attack.

They would not simply let it happen, however. Abdel mobilized his Skuggvars. As with his final flash, they could serve as batteries for Ingrid to channel even MORE and FASTER. “Ingrid, use them!” and in turn, he used electromagnetism to help her contain the volatile energy. The Eskandr nodded as she felt a helpful grasp outside her experience: the power of a Cataclysm but at the same speed of a fireball.

The massive limb detonated the ground beneath it as Mountain Spring dashed to grab his unconscious comrade, determined not to lose another one under his watch. Everything in the monstrosity’s path was eliminated from reality but Linlin was not among its victims. The combined efforts of the two remaining dragons, Stormcloud, and Mountain Spring proved just enough to delay its journey and skirt her away to safety.

Then, Ingrid struck, empowered by Trypano, Abdel, and his skuggvars, and the heavenly eyelid that had stopped closing began again. Knowing he had limited options, Vel eviscerated the very ground around him, and the air in every direction he could manage. Winds died, fissures formed, and great thunderclaps echoed as he annihilated the matter with binding and translated it directly into energy. Stretching a hand out with an almost pained expression, Valerian began to extend a thread-thin tendril of power out from himself. It penetrated the sky and reached the colossal entity: Touch of Fury.

Betrayer of Humanity

He was not the only one: they hammered away with all that they had, pouring destruction into the gap, but the sliver of perfect whiteness narrowed further still. Then, the Traveler rocketed forward, accompanied by a colossal surge of energy. The eyelid slowed. Then, it grated to a stop. Dozens of attacks poured through and a tentacle broke apart, its pieces plunging to the ground, crushing palaces and mountaintops. The puny beings below were forced to flee. The Traveler’s sheer will seemed to be the only thing holding the great eye open.

Then, she wavered.

♫

She fell from the sky, a hole clean through her centre, and the Progenitor floated behind her in all of his pitch black glory, her blood hissing and boiling away from his hand.

Then, rushing his way came a copper streak. A hulking figure rushed past them all - past Jocasta, floating in the air, past the ronin Seki, maintaining his height with the help of others, and past the two dragons: Wu Long and Wu Xiang, father and daughter. It was Sleeping Carp.

He looked to the ronin who had been his enemy mere minutes ago. "Lend me your weapon!" he bellowed by way of entreaty. "Lend me your strength and I can end him and his evil." Time itself seemed to swirl around him, running fast and slow in eddies.

Seki turned to the other sanguinaire, with a look of surprise. "On your honor, fellow countryman, end your own existence after the deed is done. This is the price. Echiran dictates a life must be given for a life to be taken. as he unclipped the sheath of the blade from his hilt, and held it out towards the running black guard.

The Progenitor's brother rushed past, accepting the blade and the deal and leapt into the sky. "Brother!" he roared. "Even for you, this is a new low!" He brought the legendary sword down.

He scowled. "You can't fight them, foolish little brother." He shook his head as another swing missed. "And now, I see, you have brought me a sword, just as planned." He reached out with kinetic magic. He snapped Sleeping Carp's neck and the hulking figure slumped.

Then, it smiled, and it was a huge, wicked, mocking smile. Sleeping Carp laughed. "Hahaha! She was right. You are predictable!" he crowed, broken neck and all. The illusion faded. Sleeping Carp appeared beside him.

It took one slice. The Progenitor's head was separated from his body. Sleeping Carp smiled faintly. He released a breath. Then, both faded from existence. The sword tumbled back down to the ground.

Seki nodded at his countryman, as he walked to collect the blade that had vanquished the heart of darkness, and the honourable bloodsucker who had wielded it when it mattered most. The best of his kind was gone, and he would continue his fight.

Further hurt poured in at the wounded titan. Yet, for all that this had appeared to be a victory, for all that many people had stood together this day and fended off an apocalypse, it would be a bitter one. The eye was nearly closed and the beast yet lived.

The Cavalry Arrives || ♫

Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a second eye opened. Only, this one was a portal. From it poured a dozen or more strange flying contraptions. Some had wings that swirled and moved. Some zipped across the sky on trails of blue fire with absurd levels of speed.

Missiles armed; target locked. "Let's light this fucker up, boys!" The tentacles lashed and thrashed and, from the strange craft came fifty-four Alpha-Seventeen Titan Killer missiles. Parachutes deployed from others and, from them, loudspeakers: sirrahi inventions. "Kinetic and arcane shields! Use your magic, raise your shields! Explosives incoming!"

Those who weren't too dumbfounded to react listened to the instructions. Kinetic shields and arcane ones went up. Then, the missiles struck home. The eye rippled. The beast let out a high, pealing screech. Great seething chunks of it fell from the sky, shaking the very ground that people stood on. Most were able to dodge. Some were not. Then, the eye was gone. The monster was slain.

Former enemies stood together on a battlefield even as a mysterious new ally turned about and headed back through the portal they had come from. "Well done, monkeys!" they called through their speaker systems. "'Til next time!" Then, the anomaly closed behind them.

In its wake was left exhaustion, best expressed, in many regards, by Valerian. Remi. Leclere. Perhaps from the shockwave, perhaps from shock, Vel had fallen on his ass, where he now sat. Feeling dead tired, he stared up at the sky, unable to even process half of what had just happened. "I...." He frowned. "I have so many questions...and I'm not sure if I want answers to any of them."

Chicken appeared above him. "Well, if you ever change your mind," a tall lean young man in a parka offered, "you can always ask." He sat down beside Vel, grinning, and let out a sigh.

The Aftermath || ♫

The next ten minutes were a maelstrom of activity as various actors raced out to try to find and secure samples of the fallen goliath. Others gathered about a being whom a handful recognized as the Ice King, trying to glean what knowledge they could from him, searing for answers that might help explain the new and terrifying world they now found themselves thrown into.

Still others searched for the Traveler, Maura first of all, hoping that humanity’s saviour had not been slain by the progenitor’s treacher and, if she yet lived, looking to heal her. They found that she was not so easy to do away with unless killed in one fell stroke. What was spoken between them - in turn Maura, Abdel, and Yalen - remained largely secret, but most made their peace with the protean figure that night in Retan.

Meanwhile, those who had made haste to collect samples found themselves frustratingly stymied. The substance proved lethal to the touch, and only some timely temporal intervention prevented multiple deaths. This was used as a justification by Jocasta to not only contain a small sample of the fallen behemoth, but to destroy the rest. It was simply too valuable dangerous to be allowed to fall into others’ hands. Indeed, the amateurs had barely avoided calamity as it was!

This movement of people and exchange of information, commiserations, and congratulations continued for some time, but wheels had already been set in motion. Yalen had spoken with Smoking Bandit and Captain Zhao in turn, and would be granted permission to retrieve the mysterious Nikanese orb from the evidence room of Wanggang’s central guardian station. Yawen was to accompany him, but she was anxiously searching for Maura first. While the junior White Knight was in no hurry to leave, the same could not be said for Seki, Laughing Squid and Golden Monkey closing in on him with potential aspirations of avenging the fallen Cold Soup. As she was no more, slain in combat, it was Smoking Bandit who presented Niallus with the blade he had turned against his erstwhile allies for. Evil Eye, once healed, made her way quickly to the Wei family and, in particular, to Yong. Yin had been reunited with Captain Zhu Kai and, perhaps it was the sheer relief of the moment. Perhaps it had been brewing for some time. Whatever it had been, they disappeared, hand-in-hand behind one of the few remaining trees, and embraced each other.

Conspicuous by their absence, however, were Wu Long, Wu Xiang (better known as Lucky Dragon), Xiulan, Hui (a man known by many names), and the Twin Emperors. While an entire wing of the palace had been devastated, much of it yet stood.

In the scramble, and with the assistance of some illusory magics, their flight there went virtually unnoticed. That Wu Long had been gravely wounded as the pieces of the titan rained down upon Sipenta’s defenders was known by many. He had shielded his daughter - estranged though they had been for a century before this. A strange black malady was spreading through the Exemplar and it had proven unstoppable. Many wondered; few knew.

Then, Laughing Squid went to work and, momentarily, concerns for those who had disappeared into the palace were put aside, much as they were among the most essential actors in the entire process. Smoking Bandit, Evil Eye, Golden Monkey, and a dozen other binders of various stripes joined him and, weary and cautious, Red Menders began to stream in, eyes wide at the devastation, glances reverent and wary at the Black Guard and the foreigners.

Piece by piece, the palace grounds began to reassemble themselves under the moonlight. Incinerated forests were regrown. Craters and scars upon the land were filled. Ruins returned to functional state. Retan would be as it had always been - as it must always remain: a land of peace, harmony, and prosperity. None would be allowed to lay eyes upon the imperfections that they knew existed. It was, simply, the Retanese way of doing things, and ten foreign students had decided, on one bloody night, that it should not change, at least not more than superficially. If subsequent events had altered that, it would only become evident in the coming months and years.

The rebuilding process took nearly some two hours and, during that time, Ingrid and Valerian were called aside. For what, the others were uncertain, but both likely had an inkling long before they stepped into the hallowed halls of the Crimson Chamber and were led down a long staircase into a darkened room below.

Meanwhile, Stormcloud, who had ducked into the palace for some minutes, emerged to share the ill tidings with her allies: Wu Long had passed from the Knower’s strange malady. She was an awkward speaker at the best of times and this instance seemed no different from any other. Perhaps that was why she had been selected to deliver the news, or perhaps she had volunteered. It was unknown. Regardless, the Exemplar was no more, and his daughter, known as Lucky Dragon, had entered the extended period of solitary mourning appropriate for such an occurrence. It was expected that, following her observance, she would re-enter active service, but her privacy was to be treated with the utmost respect and deference by others.

It was on this rather dark note that the desperately joyous scenes outside the Imperial Palace came to a close and the exhaustion that they surely all felt once again took hold in earnest. Some lay on the ground, sleeping where they could. Others crowded under the pavilions, making use of furniture. Some could not sleep anyhow.

Anointing || ♫ || ♫

Ingrid Penderson and Valerian. Remi. Leclere. emerged from the palace’s great rotunda at the head of the other eight visitors from afar. They were clothed in long ceremonial robes - gold and deep red, embroidered with the sigils of their houses or else personal symbols. Gongs and drums sounded across the restored gardens of the Twin Emperors of Retan, who sat, triumphant, upon twin thrones in the great plaza behind.

The first glow of the sun appeared upon the horizon, though it had not yet broken that plane, and the air buzzed with music, sound, and energy. At this early hour, the inner circle of the imperial court had been gathered and the Emperors’ wives and concubines took their places in a semicircle about the rulers. Last to emerge was Jiang Xiulan. Gone was the girlish manner, the irreverent quips, and the eternally unkempt hair. Ensconced behind a shield of makeup, ceremony, and fine silks, she strode into the center of the clearing, radiant. She pivoted on her heel, bowed deeply before her husband and his brother, and took her seat at Ten-Jiu’s right hand. The other women barely repressed their scowls and murmurs and, for a moment, Maura could have been certain that Xiulan looked at her and flashed the faintest ghost of a smile.

The Black Guard entered: the six that they knew - Laughing Squid, Golden Monkey, Stormcloud, Evil Eye, Smoking Bandit, Mountain Spring - and four new faces. Among these was the tall white-haired figure of Brother Ash, and he walked towards the head, second only to the mighty Laughing Squid. They took their places in two exalted rows to either side of the emperors, bowing before turning to face what came next.

They stood there as the horizon burgeoned in brightness. The hundred banners of the Retanese Empire flapped in the brisk early morning wind. The drums went silent and a final gong echoed across the clearing, its sound subtly enhanced through sonic magics. “在这一天，我们向来自远方的勇敢英雄致敬。” (On this day, we honour the brave heroes who came here from distant lands,) proclaimed Ten-Jiu, rising. His brother rose alongside him. “他们不必这样做，但他们为我们的国家而战，确保正义得到伸张，确保人民免受巨大邪恶的侵害。” (They did not have to, but they fought for our country, to ensure that justice was served and its people remained safe from a great evil,) Ten-Re concluded. He and his brother bowed in the direction of their visitors.

Then, the drums sounded twice more, thunderously. Other instruments that most of the visitors did not properly recognize played. One by one, the heroes of the day were called to stand before the Emperors, surrounded by applause. Each received the personal thanks of the twins and an item given in reward for their service.

Finally, it was the turn of Ingrid and Valerian. Evil Eye and Golden Monkey detached themselves from the ceremonial guard to stand behind and to the left of each, respectively. The drums settled into a solemn march. The horizon blazed with light and birds chirped and tittered in the trees. A small, screened pavilion took shape behind Ten-Re and Ten-Jiu, its ornate walls wood, paper, and something energetic enough to fool the prying senses of virtually anyone.

Guided by their sponsors, the pair strode up a crimson carpet to be greeted and embraced by the emperors. The drums rose in intensity. The horns blared. The gongs sounded. They were led into the small pavilion for the most sacred and secretive part of the ceremony. There, behind the screens of paper, wood, energy, and sound, they were inducted for their meritorious service as members of the Crimson Order of the Balance.

What took place within that shielded space, only they could say, but when they emerged, they did so as silhouettes, the sun cresting the horizon behind them. Evil Eye and Golden Monkey took a step back and bowed before them. The two newest members of the order returned the gesture and it was complete: all of the ceremony, all of the intrigue, the danger, the betrayal, the conundrums - all of it. This very evening, after being feted and feasted some more, the ten students and Jocasta would return to Ersand’Enise through portals of the Black Guard’s conjuring. That, then, would be it: their happy ending. All was as it was meant to be. Retan was saved. A great evil had been defeated. All was well.

… but was it?

Fin.


Rewards


Postscript

(coming soon)
In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

It was rainy in Harmoln. The sky was grey and Edyta Laska sat on a bench beneath a colonnade, watching men and women in clerical vestments bustle about the cathedral courtyard. In the near distance, a bell tolled, announcing the change from Oraff to Eshiran. The young rezaindian closed her eyes, leaned back, and rested her head on the cool stone, listening to the city's other churches take up the chorus. Mother Oraff, we thank you. Mother Eshiran, we welcome you. There was a stray thought at the end, though. How you and Father Eshiran feasted upon the people of Mandelein. She quickly disavowed it, but it had happened. The rezaindian kept her eyes shut as the bells faded, their minute of impact over. Instead, she listened to the quiet voices under the colonnades and the patter of feet and raindrops across courtyards and rooftops. She let the scent of the rain carry her away. She was tired - the sort of weariness that sets within your bones and becomes near-impossible to root out without a few nights of uninterrupted good sleep in a row.

Then, two sets of the many footsteps that had passed her by... did not. They stopped right in front of her and bright green-blue eyes opened.

"Sister Mercy."

"Your Eminence." She rose to her feet, curtsying before him. Bishop Ambrose of Harmoln - a fellow rezaindian as it so happened - stood before her, a brother of the white order over his shoulder with a board and parchment.

"Walk with me, child." He smiled tightly and motioned for her to follow. The monk followed silently and something uneasy took root in Edyta's stomach. His footsteps were too practiced. His eyes too watchful. She knew him for what he was.

The bishop clasped his hands at the small of his back, slowing up to wait for her, and she followed, beside but slightly behind, hands clasped demurely in front of her. "So, I have heard that things in Mandelein did not go quite as we had hoped."

"No, your eminence. Eshiran forgive me."

He glanced down at her sternly and she found herself reduced in his eyes. "You had best hope so." He shook his head. "Not only does the threat remain unchecked, one of our own people has turned to blasphemy and remains free to pour his filth into the ears of others. Hundreds are dead, and -"

The reached a door and the monk who had been trailing them had managed to slip to the side and ahead before Edyta had so much as noticed. He opened the door quietly and bowed his head. She remembered to incline hers in return.

"- I would ask you to follow me, sister." It was a trap and she knew it. To enter there was a trap. Might we speak out here, father, where the air is fresh? She thought it but she did not say it. Instead, she merely nodded in submission and followed. "As you wish, your eminence."

The Black Rezaindian seized her from behind and she had to tamp down on her reflex to avoid killing him. There was a Stresian Philosopher in the small, dark room, and he pricked her with a spade. The drops of blood collected were emptied into a glass tube and examined for a moment. Then, the stresian shook his head. "She's uncontaminated."

"I am sorry for the deception, sister, but we had to be certain."

At the age of seventeen, Edyta Laska was starting to understand that the people above her were not necessarily, automatically more competent than she was. She bowed her head once more. "Of course, your eminence. I'd have done the same." She waited for him to dismiss the other two and substantially address the matter at hand, but he did neither.

"Your... report mentioned a demonic item," the stresian interjected.

The lone woman's eyes darted about. They remained in this small room by torchlight. She nodded. "Yes, father. There was a girl named Dorothea Hohnstein von Albesatz-Danzau - a Feskan. She's a student at the school. There is this headpiece - like a tiara - that she wears and she never takes it off." She regarded them each in turn as she spoke. "I sensed a dark energy to it - usually muted, but occasionally a great deal." She shook her head. "An opportunity did not arise for me to take it."

"We thank you for bringing this to our attention, sister."

"It is my pleasure, father."

His smile of thanks was intended to have warmth.

"Then this must be your next task, my child." It was Bishop Ambrose. He did not smile. "The gods are perfect. Us humans, less so. I will correspond with your superiors in the City of the Bells. I am certain that Lady Eshiran will absolve you should you find success."

She had failed. Edyta swallowed. She had failed Eshiran in both aspects. Those who deserved death had not met with it. Many who did not had fallen. I am sorry. Lord Eshiran, forgive me. Lady Eshiran, forgive me! I shall not be weak. I shall act as a better instrument of your will. This, I promise. She swore it, then, before the gods and their representatives, making the sign of the Pentad. There remained one question, however. "Forgive my ignorance, your eminence," she began, "but... success in what?"

The bishop nodded towards the White Black rezaindian who was taking his notes before turning back to face her. "My child: yours is a very special task indeed." He reached out for her hands and took them. She did not resist. "You must, one way or another, separate Dorothea from that crown." He squeezed gently and she nodded, gazing up into his cool grey eyes by torchlight. "Her family is influential, so you are to avoid harming her if it is a simple matter." His grip tightened. "But if it is not, you may use all and any means at your disposal."

Sister Laska nodded. "As you command, your eminence."

"I do not command, young one." He smiled at her now, and she averted her eyes from his steadfast gaze for a moment, casting about the room. "It is the will of the Gods themselves, and you and I are but instruments."

"Always, your eminence."

He looked her up and down for a moment. "So very blessed by Ipte are you." He shook his head. "A pity it was not a young man you were to deal with." Finally, he released her hands, and she found them cramped and sweaty. "Nevermind. You will succeed just the same, because you must."

"I understand." She bowed her head.

"Excellent, my child." Once more, his eyes fell upon her and hers rose to meet them. He managed a quick smile, with his lips. "Now, I imagine you've had quite the journey here."

"Your eminence, if I may?" There was an interruption. It was the Stresian.

"Certainly, Father Behringer." The priest bowed his head in thanks and turned matter-of-factly towards the nun. "Sister, we have reason to believe that the vault of the late Graf Kapperstel may contain an item of great importance to the church and to your order in particular." The three men exchanged glances. Then, the stresian continued. "This may or may not be the case, but rumours persist of a sword of unusual qualities possessed by the family."

Edyta pentacted herself. Lord Eshiran! It was the sacred sword, artifact of Eshiran-Zept himself, placed among men so that they might know the gods! Her heart leapt before the anxiety could take over. Thank you, Eshiran, thank you Dami and Shune! If they had truly chosen her for such a task, they had blessed her - but a humble servant - greatly.

"Some believe it is the sword of our Lord Eschiran himself," the bishop confirmed. "Though I doubt there is any truth to the rumour, we request that you look into it and provide your superiors in Ersand'Enise with some certainty."

"And if it should turn out to be the genuine article?"

"Well, my sister in the Pentad, I imagine it is not such a stretch of the imagination to understand just how dangerous such a thing might prove in the wrong hands."

"In those of a demon," Bishop Ambrose clarified, and Edyta found herself irked for a moment. She wasn't sure why.

"I shall always act in the church's interest, my lords." They were all noble. She could sense it in the way that they talked - in how they carried themselves. "As we would we all, sister."

"But... pray tell," she began, "How will I recognize such a sacred article?" She shook her head. "Imperfect as they are at interpreting Lady Ipte's will, the many artists who have depicted it have done so in a variety of ways."

Bishop Ambrose scowled, perhaps in thought, but Father Behringer smiled. "This is, of course, an issue." He regarded her thoughtfully and she felt her cheeks warm under the attention. She had rarely been studious - capable at best in academic matters as opposed to brilliant according to her instructors. "But they were not misled, I tell you." He smiled at his own cleverness. "For this form takes many forms, from a great many peoples around the world."

"So it is simple," concluded the bishop, eager to have the final word. "If she often seems to wield a different sword - and few women are so inclined to such a weapon anyhow - and wields it with great power, then you will have reasonable grounds to act, and you are heartily encouraged to do so."

Edyta bowed low to the ground. "I thank you and the gods alike for your wisdom and your trust." She rose. "I will not let you down."

In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
♫
Present: Rikard Ambrus, Yalen Castel @pantothenic, Valerian Remi Leclere @yoshua171, Maura Mercador @Ti, Salomé Xiuyang Solari @Emeth, Trypano Somia @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid Penderson @dragonpiece, Niallus Saberhagen @McKennaJ71, Abdel Varga @YummyYummy, and Neki Kaureerah Wenhan

Eleven students returned from their journeys one by one, some on their own and some with members of the Black Guard. Perhaps it was telling. Not all were the same either. Some appeared changed, either in demeanour or in some other subtle way that hinted at something deeper...

The first one was Yalen. He did not appear particularly disturbed by his meeting with Smoking Bandit, and as far as anyone could tell he had managed to leave unharmed for the time being. Yalen did not say anything, looking straight ahead with a neutral expression, but watching closely one might notice that his eyes were fixated in Jocasta's direction.

1. Yalen has indicated that his allegiance shall be tied to Jocasta's.

Next came Trypano. She entered the room, her face no less cold than a marble statue as always. She returned to her seat, keeping her eyes and her senses about her, but said nothing about how poorly her meeting had gone.

2. Trypano has decided to decline the offer.

Niallus arrived next.He was strangely nonchalant about it on the surface, but his eyes shifted back and forth with a sort of surreptitious anxiety that gave voice to the racing of his mind. He had held a sword but now it was not on his person. Cold Soup followed him in like a great hulking ghost, ice crystals forming where she walked. He cast about at the others and his eyes met Trypano's briefly. He managed a quick smile, but there was little joy in it.

3. Niallus has provisionally accepted the offer, but stands ready to betray the Black Guard's trust.

Ingrid was the next to emerge from the vast garden, chatting happily with Evil Eye, and she seemed somehow changed. Her makeup was a little disorderly but overall she appeared fine. She took her seat and smiled at Trypano and Niallus.

4. Ingrid has accepted the offer.

She was followed, soon after, by an anxious looking Kaureerah. The eeaiko's body language was stiff and uncertain. She cast about at her friends. Would some now be enemies? Would they try to kill her now? Would they really go so far? Would she have to fight back. She swallowed. "My woord es my baund," she said simply. "Eye em saurry."

5. Kaureerah has declined the offer.

Valerian arrived next. Emerging from the hedge maze, his attention seemed turned inward. He seemed pale and there was a strange disorder to his typically well-regulated aura. Something was off about his manas, yet there were no bruises on his skin and a strange exactness had invaded his movements. Occasionally the Perrenchman would glance up, peering at those who had returned, there was a slight frown on his face and a strange sort of disappointment. He seemed…conflicted. Yet....

6. Valerian has accepted the offer.

Rikard appeared next. He stalked in, glancing about. He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak before closing it again. Others looked his way expectantly. "Well, I figured we should wait for what, you know... our Zeno says, right?"

7. Rikard has indicated that his allegiance shall be tied to Jocasta's.

Abdel walked in, eyes wide and looking shaken but, paradoxically, there was some assurance in his step as well. He assiduously avoided eye contact, aside from brief, evaluative glances stolen at Wu Long and what appeared to be a search for Maura, who had yet to arrive. However...

8. Abdel has accepted the offer.

Xiuyáng was the third last to make her way in, bounding over from the direction of the island, thoughtful or otherwise. It was hard to tell from behind the mask. She seemed to be in good spirits, tossing a sacred plum up in the air and catching it, but she sobered some as she approached the others, trying to gauge where they stood. At the end of the day, however...

9. Xiuyáng has accepted the offer, with a non-violence caveat.

Maura came rolling back with Yawen in tow. Her eyes searched the others' and there was... a rather large chicken on her lap. She pulled up to the table and there was no doubt when she spoke that she did not want open conflict between those whom she considered friends or at least counterparts. Nonetheless...

10. Maura has accepted the offer.

Finally, all eyes turned to Jocasta, on whose answer could rest the fate of the entire affair.

The phenomenally powerful young Zeno seemed more like the former self that virtually nobody here had met: nervous. She drummed the tabletop momentarily, eyes darting about. Perhaps instinctively, her hands went to her wheels, a fight or flight response chewing at her insides. For, unlike many of the others, who'd been genuinely convinced, she had resolved to make her decision based on what Yalen had decided.

11. Jocasta has indicated that her allegiance shall be tied to Yalen's.

Yalen met her eyes and slightly inclined his head towards one of the Black Guards.

With that, Jocasta swallowed and nodded. "Then we shall accept your offer." She turned to the others. "If any are against, I urge you to reconsider now. There is more at play here than we were led to believe and, even if occasionally graceless, our hosts may not be entirely in the wrong."

Oh thank fucking Dami! Ingrid screamed out in her head when Yalen and Jocasta went with the Black Guard. She did her best to hide the relief.

It was at this junction that Trypano decided to speak. "I wish to propose that we might have been led into a false dichotomy. At this rate the forces coming to clash here stand much to gain but also much to lose. If any would agree I would like to suggest to the many acting parties here that we cease fire and open diplomatic discussions instead." She then cast her gaze over to Yalen. "Violence will benefit no one, least of all the general populace of Retan."

She then turned to the remainder of the students present. "Without need for conflict we'd be free to return to Ersand'Enise and resume our own endeavors."

Yalen shook his head apologetically. Inside his conscience he could feel himself agreeing wholeheartedly with Trypano, but the circumstances facing him crushed whatever idealistic notions he'd had upon coming here.

Hearing Trypano, Valerian glanced up, but much like Yalen it seemed his idea of a 'better' world had been somewhat shaken by the sheer complexity of the forces at play in Retan. "I wish it were that simple," he said somewhat quietly.

It was Ingrid who gave voice to what more than one was thinking. "Violence is going to happen regardless of our involvement and I don't plan on sitting down as the world shifts."

♫

The mysterious guest at the table rose, then. Even the twins turned to regard him. Abdel's eyes, meanwhile, went wide and his face whitened. He leaned over and whispered urgently to Maura.
"So, it seems you have made a decision," the stranger said. "How disappointing."

At that, Wu Long slammed the table. "Disappointing!?" he roared, casting about angrily. "We fought together! We nearly died together. We saved lives. We were going to save this place from the tyrants, not hand it to them on a silver platter!" He shook his head, turning red. "All of you." He balled his fists. "Won over by trinkets and disingenuous stories meant to pull at your heartstrings."

All around the table and all at once, immense powers began to build. The air went deadly still and silent, the temperature plunged, and even the very light of the dying sun seemed to dim. Wu Long glared at Valerian and Jocasta in particular. He said nothing more. His eyes spoke of his reproach for these... traitors and the incredible violence soon to follow.

"Oh do shut up, old man." It was Ten-Jiu. He giggled. "I'm going to enjoy putting you down. This has been a thousand years coming."

Evil Eye stepped between Wu Long and the Wei family protectively. "Get back!" she shouted. "Get back now! Carp, please! Get them out of here!" Sleeping Carp stepped between Wu Long, the family, and Xiulan.

"Do you really think me some monster who would murder innocents!?" the exemplar snarled. Maura, in the meantime, was busy speaking to Kaureerah rapidly and in low tones.

Lady Matsuhara rose. "For now, our interests align," she said to the dragon avatar, and he scowled, but he nodded.

On the opposite side, the VOID tore open, empowering the select few that could commune with it.

Ingrid’s hand shook as she tried to hold tight to her sash, clasping the dagger. What would come out of it if I opened the door right now? she wondered, but then Yalen tossed the Sceptre of Ahn-Shune towards her. He wouldn't need it anymore.

Trypano heaved a long sigh. Some things never truly changed. Perhaps she’d just needed more insight in the end. She gestured broadly to everyone else in the room as she addressed Wu Long. "Behold: humanity." She spoke with rich sarcasm before letting her arms sink back to her sides. In her mind, it was time to keep these criminally suicidal youths from the consequences of their own choices once more.

"I sympathize, Trypano," Jocasta announced, "I truly do, but the die is cast now." Indeed, it appeared to be. Sleeping Carp had disappeared and, with him, the family. Ingrid had caught the sceptre and seemed poised to do something characteristically reckless. Jocasta had - with a flicker of time magic to turn ten seconds into a tenth of a second - imbibed and held down a prime shot. There was a great deal of powerful drawing from many parties, but even among these giants, she was not unequalled for sheer raw power.

The air hummed with energy and eyes flicking back and forth in paranoia. Something had to give. Someone had to break, and it was Lady Matsuhara. She chose that moment to make her move. She dashed straight for Yalen, a half-dozen arcane lances converging on his position from various directions.

Jocasta drew them to nothing. She raised three fingers, twisted them about, and snapped Lady Matsuhara's neck. "Anyone else?" she offered, with frosty sweetness. She glared at the Progenitor.

Nobody had the chance to test her offer. There were portals, out of nowhere: dozens of them. Ogauraq poured through. Dragon Smirk caught Vel's and Niallus' eyes and grinned, happy to see his erstwhile allies. Elly followed him out, utterly unaware of the coming betrayal.

This was it, then. Ten-Re, eyes wide, snorted anxiously and snapped his fingers. The entire pavilion disappeared. "So it has come to this. I suggest we find a suitable place."

With that as her cue, Jocasta disappeared, gone to long range like any tethered worth their salt might.

Someone else appeared: More than one. More than ten. More than a hundred. The air filled with a scathing, mirthful, maniacal laugh. The Laughing Knight - Brother Ash - The man of a thousand names and faces had returned, and he'd brought help. "HOOO HOOO HOOO, YOU'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD, KIDDOS!!" The hundred Laughing Knights pointed. "Except for you, Trypano." He made a little heart with his hands... a hundred times over.

Then came the demon. From within the VOID instance already conjured by one of the Black Guard emerged a towering figure in the likeness of King Horik himself. He carried a colossal burning War Hammer over his shoulder. His eyes blazed with orange flame. His armour of chains jangled and rattled as he walked. He opened his massive mouth in a cruel grin. "YOU ARE ALL FOOD!"

Then came the ronin. A high pitched frequency filled the air as his sandals touched the ground, and he turned to face it, that despicable creature from hell, though his eyes were closed. He softly shook his head, resting his hand on one of the two swords in his belt. A second passed, the distance was closed, and 5 swift slashes filled the air, as the ivory white blade split the colossal demon into 5 equal parts, the sword being gently placed into the sheath before the clock had another chance to tick. "And you are already dead."

He moved to stand behind Ash. Well, one of the many Ashes. "Our interests align," said the high sanguinaire to the Progenitor. The Progenitor nodded. People spread out.

"Does it really have to come to this?" asked Lucky Dragon.

"SILENCE, traitorous girl!" snarled Wu Long.

The other two exemplars had not left. Their alignment, if any, was not yet clear.

Then, the air hummed. It... shook. It grew heavy and oppressive and all three exemplars collapsed. "Father, no!" Lucky Dragon screamed. Three colossal dragons writhed and snaked across the sky.

As they drew near, the sheer force of their energy was simply too much for the feeble mammals below. They collapsed, writhing and retching on the ground, holding heads that felt like they were going to explode, bleeding from the nose, the ears, and even the eyes. The Old Order had arrived and they did not waste time in attacking.

Action Opportunities

In The Hourglass Order → 1 yr ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
♫
Present: Esmii @BlackRoseSiren, Oksana @Ti, Yuliya @Suicharte, Marz @Th3King0fChaos, Yvain @jasbraq, Roslyn @Fallenreaper, Khaliun @YummyYummy, Sven, and Penny
The Conundrum

What had begun as a tense and standoffish meeting at the base of a large staircase had turned into a celebration of pure unfettered capitalism: a system that was, all told, fairly new to Vossoriya and not implemented particularly well by the ruling powers. It took hours, and most of that time was passed with the eight youths gleefully spending vast amounts of coin on a series of eclectic items. They spent with such gusto and glee - for the most part - that it soon became clear that their time in The Bunker was more than a mere shopping spree; it was cathartic. After all they had seen and experienced to this point, it was needed.

But they learned some things as well. Most importantly, it was Roslyn who learned something of Marz’s last whereabouts, for some hope was still held - cautiously among them - that he remained among the living. It was the early afternoon as they came down the stairs, Sven and Penny in the midst of an argument. “It’sh jusht treshpasshing,” he insisted, shaking his head adamantly. “Maybe they’re up to shomething. Maybe they’re not, but we can’t jusht go barging in and expect them not to defend themshelves.”

“You can call it whatever you like, Sven, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re dirty: clearly.” It was Penny’s turn to shake her head. “They’re not normal ‘monks’ and they’re hiding something.” She was annoyed. It was clear. Yuliya, who normally seemed her best friend and ally among the group, had more or less sided with Sven and it was ever the habit of the Perrenchwoman to dig in her heel and lash out like a cornered animal when she felt outnumbered.

“You don’t go into holy place uninvited and just start beating priest,” Yuliya decided with a scowl, and Penny rolled her eyes and sighed. “Is basic common sense. St. Artyom’s are…” She trailed off. For what it was worth, they were not known as a militant order. The level of force they had displayed was still odd if the others were to be believed. “Allowed to have their privacy, no?” she concluded after a brief pause. Penny relented, going quiet, a wedge that was only temporary driven between the two friends. “Well, we know about that Blacksmith,” Rosyln recommended, finding her voice among the large group of semi-familiar people. “We could try that?”

The Collapse

It was no cleaner than it had looked some two days earlier. They stood outside of the Collapse, where they’d been told that Vladimir, the blacksmith, could be found. It was a grim place that reeked of death. Carrion birds circled overhead and the last remnants of the other day's late Stresian snowfall were still melting away. Every once in a while, the dozens of rescuers and salvagers pulled someone out, still blessedly alive, but it had been almost a day since the last one. Far more common were the bodies: mangled or frozen. The debris of people's lives - their homes, businesses, and possessions - was scattered, wilting in the sun and the mud among the great boulders and lesser rubble of the fallen cliffs. Yet, those unscrupulous enough found opportunity here. Valuables remained to be picked, and even artifacts of the sacred caves below. Some in the bunker and about town had hinted at the presence of a great treasure below. Perhaps it was this, as much as altruism or a concern for the possible last handful of survivors, trapped in pockets within the disaster zone, that drove the continued efforts.

The group of foreign students proved unable to resist at least trying, and they spent the next two hours picking and digging through the rubble. If it was not quite what they were supposed to be doing, some convinced themselves that Marz might yet be in there. Others took solace in the fact that no less than three lives were saved by their intervention. Thousands of oubles worth of valuables were recovered, including a few items of exceptional power that were quickly and guiltily hidden away and hoarded.

The Hours of Oraff were giving way to those or Rezain by the time that they finally encountered Vladimir: a large, gruff man who spoke no more than a few words of Avincian. He led them back to his workshop, perched perilously close to the yawning chasm where once had been part of a town. There, with Yuliya to translate, he answered their questions. “Aye, tall for a hegelan, right? Reddish hair…” He trailed off, seeming to consider but perhaps really regarding them with a degree of suspicion. “Who’d you say he was to you again?”

There was a rapid exchange between him and Yuli, and the others, left in the dark about specifics, couldn’t help but let their eyes wander about the shop. That was when she spotted the child: a small hegelan boy, peering out from around a corner. When they locked eyes for a split second, he ducked behind it once more. Penny leaned in and tapped Yvain on the shoulder. “Regardez,” she whispered, pointing subtly in that direction, “et attends.” Sure enough, about twenty seconds later, the child poked his head out once again, stealing a glance at the strange people who spoke in a strange language. Finally, Yuliya was finished, and a small bag of coins exchanged hands. “He says Marz came by here with another boy - Nazih, I think - and learned about other problem in this town.” She shook her head. “Hegelans that come here go missing. He says maybe a dozen. Maybe a hundred, but it is known thing. He says this two boys mentioned heading for caves across from…” She trailed off, unable to find the word for a moment. “Monashtery,” offered Sven helpfully, and she nodded and pointed. “Yes, this.”

Penny was already starting to move. So was Roslyn. The former was tired and achy, to be perfectly honest. She was not built to walk long distances without magic, but she was terrified enough of being a burden that there was no chance of her offering any protest. Instead: “Is there any doubt now where we must go?” she prodded. In the event, there was none.

The Monastery

The sun glistened golden upon the damp grass and scant remaining banks of snow and townspeople hustled about, finishing up their daily errands as the students docked in front of St. Artyom’s. One by one, they clambered out of the large skiff, footsteps thumping on the dock. Behind the walls and hedges, rising up into a large grotto, lay the monastery. Votive mosaics and wrought iron gatework greeted them. Beyond that, there was precious little to see. Yuliya decided to go first, clearing her throat and knocking on the gate. Any who had participated in the conflagration a few days earlier were kept back, out of immediate sight. Now, it was their turn to hide where, this morning, it had been Yuliya’s and Yvain’s.

It was close to a minute that they stood there, waiting, and Yuliya knocked a second time, for good measure. A little door in the thick iron slid open and, beyond it, was one of those monks in their red hats. “We are not accepting pilgrimages at the moment,” He informed her, voice tired and official-sounding. “given what’s happened in the town. All of our resources are needed in the rescue effort.” Yuli had just come from the rescue effort, however, and she had seen only a handful of monks at best.

Yuliya cocked an eyebrow in confusion. She’d not wanted to come to this place, but there were too many questions in her head now. Why weren’t there more monks at the wreckage? She hadn’t seen that many throughout her walk here from the town either, so where were they? Maybe the monk didn’t have the authority to answer her questions. She needed a holier person.
“We are not pilgrims. We’re here to speak to the Hegumen, if you wouldn’t mind.” she spoke politely, as whatever her doubts were about the situation, this was still a man of the gods.

He arched a dubious eyebrow at her, tamping down on whatever further rudeness may have risen within him. “And who are you, dear child, that you should be so exempt from the rules that others have to follow?” he harrumphed. “Does not Dami-Soluz teach us humility?”

”That he does, brother, but does he not also stand first among equals?” she retorted, a small confident smirk marking her face as she met his gaze. She’d never gotten to use these before, and oh boy was it exciting, but she sure hoped she hadn’t fucked up the words. How embarrassing that would be.

The monk froze for the briefest of moments, his face going still through the tiny sliding door and his eyes searching hers as if his mind were racing. After this pause, he nodded, and it was nearly seamless. “You make a very good point, Sudarynya.” He bowed his head. “I shall see if I can fetch him for you.” He reached up to close the portal. Yuliya held a hand out before he finished and coughed expectantly

“Oh yes. Sorry.” the monk cleared his throat. “Where are my manners?” He called back into the courtyard and a couple of others came hustling over. With their combined efforts, they heaved the gates open. “Please, step inside and he’ll be along.” However, upon sighting Sven and Esmii in particular, they froze, and their faces became stony. They whispered among themselves anxiously and their entire body language changed. It was clear to Yuli, even if she couldn’t quite hear it all, that there was something that these monks found deeply objectionable about her party, and she didn’t have to stretch her imagination very much to figure out what that was.

She turned back to Esmii and Sven, and scowled a little herself, before switching back to the same polite smile as she had done prior, leading the group into the monastery grounds. It would do them good to warm up, given the cold Vossoriyan night was soon to be afoot and the majority of her comrades were not used to such conditions, she’d seen as much on the way to Kirimansk. She turned once more and addressed them as they were walking ”Be respectful. We don’t want more incident.” as she playfully tugged Penny’s ear for a second before continuing and the Perrenchwoman batted her hand away and hissed.

The monks’ eyes darted warily back and forth, as if they were thinking of trying something. There was particular hostility in how they regarded Sven and Esmii. Perhaps the others were mundane enough not to stand out or simply hadn’t been recognized. Then, the monk in the red hat turned and barked some orders at his blue-hatted underlings: didn’t they have the gate to close? Then, as they knew, places to be? Didn’t they have the abbot to fetch? The students were left alone on the correct side of the heavy iron doors as further monks carried about their early evening business in the near distance. Had their magic been available to them, perhaps some of the students might’ve reached out and snooped. Yet, it was not, and they found themselves blind, in a sense, without it.

Then, finally, a small procession of six, with a seventh in the middle, began making their way from one of the larger buildings in the back, set against the cliffs. They wound their way towards the students and the figure in the middle - a tall, lean man of years rather advanced but just shy of elderly, dressed in fine clerical vestments - was clearly revealed to be the abbot. He pulled up in front of them, hands clasped before him. He inclined his head shallowly in regard, eyes suspiciously searching the others. “How may I be of service, my child?” he inquired in accented Avincean that was probably a shade better than Yuli’s. “Have you come seeking to bathe in the sacred pools, or is there some other blessing that you and these… foreign guests seek?”

Yuli addressed the man respectfully, bowing her head as he did, responding in Avincean “Greetings Hegumen, I seek blessing of Sveta-Shune, in regard to comrade of mine. Hegelan, red haired. Your brothers are searching around town, you have seen him?”

The abbot paused, mid-greeting, and furrowed his brow. “A hegelan?” he asked, face and voice tamping down on at least some degree of confusion. He gathered himself. “Greetings, of course. How rude of me, Sudarynya.” His eyes darted nervously in the direction of the others, at least two of whom had been recognized as having belonged to the interlopers from three days earlier. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Do they speak our language?” Yuli shook her head “Save for those two, no. But that one is deaf. she gestured to Khaliun, and then to Oksana.

“So then, why are you with them?” he prodded, forcing a casual note into his voice. “Are you safe? Is it safe to discuss the… operation in front of them?”

Yuli crooked her head to the side. What on earth was he talking about? Why would she not be safe? Something about this whole situation set her on edge. Operation? Did he mean the boxes? The anti magic zone? She already felt sick from being in this field, and this did not help her one bit.

”Why wouldn’t I be safe? And what operation?” she asked, a hint of authority to her tone, as if she was insulted by the prospect that she’d ever be in danger.

The abbot’s eyes narrowed, and he exchanged glances with three of the monks around him. “Who are you,” he asked with some authority of his own. “I think it is right that you should introduce yourself when coming into my house.”

Yuliya walked up to him, slowly. Her suspicion at this moment piqued, and instinctively, she found a verse from the Menushyn leaving her lips as her footsteps echoed around the abbey. ”They should not ask who enters a house of worship, but the intentions they hold, and the gait with which they walk” as she was now face to face with the abbot, looking up into his eyes expectantly, waiting for a tell which she hoped would not come.

For a moment, he merely appeared confused, before a light turned on. “For who they are now matters not -” He corrected himself “- less than who they were before they came… entered.” He regarded her suspiciously. “My child,” he responded, falling back on familiar ecclesiastical vernacular, “Why is it that you ask me to recite this verse now that I have not read since I was in the seminary?”

Before she had the chance to respond, however, Penny let out an exclamation and Sven picked up on it. “The magic,” he exclaimed in Eskandish, and that was a tongue that Yuli knew as well. It was back! Surely enough, she could feel it. “Your eminence!” shouted a red-capped monk rushing up the hallway. “Your eminence! There’s trouble down below It’s the heg -” He noticed the outsiders and cut off mid-word, stammering for something else to say. “Hegumen’s… correspondence. You have a new message!”

The sickness Yuliya felt in her stomach from the loss of her magic faded, but not from the shiftiness of this character. She had spoken to many men and women of the gods in her time, and any that were of his rank would not fumble his words with holy scripture the same way he had. The man running into the room and cutting his speech was but further giveaway that something deeply wrong was going on here, and she would get to the bottom of it. “You… you… insolent worm.” She practically shook with anger, and the words forced themselves out in Vossoriyan, but she knew hiding this conversation from her friends was pointless. She momentarily calmed herself to speak the tongue they all knew as she bit her lip to the point of puncture. “No more questions. Only truth. What is plan. What are you hiding?”

There was sweat beading on his forehead. He looked back at her and then at the others, making a small, quick gesture with three of his fingers at another monk. “This is no time to be questioning an Elder of the church! Can you not see there are urgent matters at hand?” He gestured in the direction of the monk who’d recently arrived bearing the news. For his part, the chubby young man was wide-eyed and useless. The abbot leveled a finger accusingly at the others, then, eyes bulging and face reddening. “And them! At least two, we recognize from the other day! That knife-ear and the big lummox there! They broke in here uninvited and now I have multiple brothers maimed for life!” he stalked forward, his meekness beginning to dissipate. “How dare you come here, whoever you are, with a stolen password and a group of rogues, and speak to me, a Hegumen, with such brazen disrespect!?” His eyes were lit with fury now. “I could have you locked up for that! Why, I should!”

Sven caught Yuliya’s eye for a moment. Penny looked to him and then to her, both of them speaking through their body language, asking the same question: “Should I?” How Yuliya wanted to rip this blasphemer’s head from his shoulders, but nay. She had spoken her part. She nodded to Sven, the comments about Esmii gave him right of way in this regard. She would be grateful if she was offered the same opportunity in these circumstances. He stepped forward, brimming with energy. “Who you calling a knife-ear, asshhole?” A mighty directional shockwave emanated from his hands as he clapped them together, and the sickly feeling of atomic radiation followed. Yet, when the massive clouds of dust that had been kicked up followed, the abbot stood there, utterly unbothered. His robes flapped in the wind and a smile of grim satisfaction spread across his face and a half-dozen more monks rushed up to join him. “Unofficially, I was hoping you’d make a mistake like that. Say your prayers, children.”
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