“Unofficially, I was hoping you’d make a mistake like that. Say your prayers, children.” A final line from the Abbot as other holy men arrive to join in the scuffle. A smirk appeared on Yvain’s face, putting on the mask that finished his attire. He began to draw, awaiting for any of the monks to attack him… yet he would be met with disappointment. It seemed as though nobody dared to lay a finger on him. Annoyed by said revelation he sought out a challenge so he could enjoy himself.
He drew his sword as he looked around for his potential target, not caring about the simple fights that happened around him. Then, his dream opponent was in his sight. A monk that did not share a cap similar to the others, he must be special.. He must be strong. Then melancholy hit upon the realization that they were in fact already fighting against Yuliya. "You would pray? YOU?? Die." He saw her launching a fully empowered fist directly at the black cap’s head. Yvain saw it, an opening. He rushed towards the two, blade gripped tightly. Then one with a blue cap tried to stand in his way of glory only to be swung away with a shoulder charge from the brutish noble. ”Out of the way, peasant!” He laughed, kinetically charging forward.
Then as Yuliya hit him with a kinetically empowered punch, Yvain at the black cap’s back pointed his sword and skewered the man upon it. A satisfied smile was hidden behind his mask as he heard the monk’s dying gasp. His sight turned towards Yuliya ”Looked like you needed a hand, apologies for stealing your prey.
As soon as they finished off the black cap a nuclear explosion was about to hit them he felt his magic disappear for a split moment, causing the abbot to lose control of the massive reaction he prepared. Then, as if they were blessed by the Pentad personally, magic returned to them. Yvain, perfect as he was, easily defended himself against the explosion. Looking around to check if Penny or Yuliya were hurt by the explosion, relieved that there was no harm to them ”Mais tout est bien qui finit bien.” Yvain let out a sigh and sheathed his blade.
Day 1 ◈ Time: night ◈ Weather: Moderate Rain ◈ Location: Main Ballroom ◈ Participants: Fasha Sumbul, Anastasia Arslan @Ti , Kaspaan Mustaven @Deja
Seeing Anastasia try so hard for everything to be perfect all by herself was amusing to watch. Always wanting to do it all by yourself, there are three more Illuminaire, you know? All you have to do is ask. A satisfied smile covered her face, making it seem as though she felt satisfaction for how they prepared the ball together.
As the ball progressed smoothly, Fasha mingled with other students. Most of them deriving from wealth or from her own house, cementing her name as Illuminaire further amongst her own house. Leaving her presence wherever she went.
Her gaze was set over the dancing floor. A genuine smile covering her face and thinking back on the yesteryears. Remembering the night where she danced and made her face known to others, to the night where a certain someone’s fiery dance style was quite the challenge to be partnered against. Like trying to lead a wild animal. She couldn’t help but chuckle from the memory.
Seeing the ever so busy Illuminaire for a dance caused the girl to sigh. Oh dear, it seems like I may have to take over responsibilities if she’s going to take a break. She clicked her tongue whilst trying to spot the other two. I do not trust them with making sure everything goes smoothly. And with that she began.
Making sure everything stays perfect. Why would I even do her a favor like this? . . . It has to be a favor in return! Yes, that must be it. After her routine was finished she looked back on the dance floor once more. Oh, how she wished to be there and enjoy the night. Dancing, laughing and having a great time.
Grabbing a nice, refreshing drink. Fasha sighed. Maybe one nice dance wouldn’t hurt. Approaching Anastasia, her eyes stabbing into the red haired woman, nodding towards her underclassman after noticing him. ”Hello, Ana, Kaspaan. I hope your night is rather enjoyable.” Bowing gracefully whilst grabbing the other woman’s hand. ”Would you like to have a dance with me, for old times sake?” Everyone else was blurred, she had one goal as of now.
Dorothea Hohnstein von Albesatz-Danzau was alone in the middle of the forest with the only nearby shelter recently brought to nothing by the recent battle. There laid the corpse of Qasem Laghmanin, her would-be killer had it not been for Manfred, her lover who had abandoned this world. And finally, there was a singular, red feather set conveniently before Dory’s footwear, the last trace of Leluun in this world. It was dark and quiet, no wildblood was nearby and the only lightsource was the Feskan’s own creation.
But after a half-minute, a once concealed presence made itself visible, standing over the corpse of the once-ally. It was Viktor, and Laura followed soon after. “I see you did not need any help with this or that witch.” he remarked, posture straightened and muscular arms crossed. “And you’ve accepted your destiny.” a conspicuous glance was shot at the crown. “A relief!” he merrily clapped his hands, smiling bright at the newly made avatar.
He kneeled once more and searched the pouches that remained tied to Qasem’s belt. Due to the morphology of the lycanthrope, legwear had a tendency to survive the transformations. Out came the metallic vial that looked identical to what Kaspar had found before, and was one of three in the container from the boat. “Stolen goods recovered.” he said, which prompted a nod from Laura. “You will need to explain this to your friends. It is a bit strange that a single wolf took down two of you, don’t you think?” he looked to Dory as he pocketed the peculiar object and then approached her.
“Keep it simple. The more you try to detail, the more it will sound like you’re trying to convince. Only guilty people do that.” he was a few feet away from her now, hands on his sides. “Repeat after me. Manfred was grievously wounded putting down Qasem. Your friend Ismette argued to spare your friend, and it spiralled into an argument, where she got stabbed by Manfred by accident.” as he spoke, Laura seemed to be prepare Qasem’s large body for something as she stretched the legs and arms to have the whole thing on display. “Manfred, as he was about to die, finished off Qasem and succumbed to his wounds. All to protect you. Understood?” he raised a brow as he made deep eye-contact with Dory.
"A relief?... What do you mean by that?" Dory looked the man that had helped them in the town."The bodies are no longer here, how would I explain that when they try and search for them?" She began to think on any more holes in the plan. "And what of myself?" putting emphasis to her rather unharmed form. "Would they really believe it when I'm barely harmed whilst the others are nowhere to be found?"
“I was afraid the worst was going to happen.” Viktor answered in Kerreman with a smile pushing on the corners of his lips. He looked around the wreckage, and indeed the bodies were absent. “Simple, the bodies were eaten by the wolves. Or something like that.” he shrugged whilst pocketing the metal vial he had recovered into his vest. “But that is only a concern if they survive.” Viktor turned to look over at another direction, one a bit more East from the town. There was a fire and a lot of smoke that stood out in the dark of night. “The Priest has either finished the job, or they've prevailed. What do you think?”
"Father Dubosque? He didn't seem all that threatening... Did he also turn into one of those.. beasts?" Dory looked at the fire before once more looking over at Viktor. "You know a lot more about what has happened here, don't you? The vial. What is in it?"
“Something that belongs to dangerous and unpleasant people.” he answered the last questioned, let the very first hang and reluctantly addressed the second afterward. “As for what happened here, I know an outbreak happened. And I know one of them can seamlessly lead the flock with near-perfect control.” he began to pace until he was out of the debris zone. He kept his eyes on the remote fire.
“If you want a proper cover up ...” he had his back turned to Dory, hiding his smirk. “You can always say the Mad Avatar claimed them all, and you just barely escaped.”
"Dangerous and unpleasant people?... Do I know of them?" She looked rather confused by it all. “Then if they take out the one in control every single one of those things will start to frenzy?" Her face looked rather unamused. “Mad Avatar?"
“Aren't they already?” he rhetorically asked, leaving it at that. “Yes, the Mad Avatar. Your Tethered friend had a close encounter with her, I do remember. I'm sure she'll back you up, knowing what she knows.”
"I guess you have a point there..." Dory raised her eyebrow at the mention of a tethered friend. "Jocasta? She had a close encounter? I guess it would make sense we'd be wiped out if she couldn't manage against it."
Yvain was not one for hiding who he was but it seemed that people didn't like him for some absurd reason. Whatever the reason might be, people were looking out for him and he had to meet up with the rest in some way or form. And thus he settled to follow in the Vossoriyan’s footsteps and hide amongst… the common folk. A merchant’s attire. Not being able to let shine through his noble status towards the poor masses. Nevertheless, his flawless disguise worked.
It would have probably been best to keep a low profile but there were just so many interesting things for sale! He walked around to buy a few things until stumbling upon Marta’s Emporium where he was called over by the shopkeeper. “Hey, you! Do you perhaps know a one legged girl?” The shopkeeper asked. ”I might know her, why would you ask?” The shopkeeper presented a carpet with a little message attached. ’Merry Caldores, Love Penny.’ The normally smug high society man began to shed a tear. ”So this is.. You remembered all this time?” He left the money that needed to be paid on the counter and left with the carpet.
He was going from shop to shop looking through the coolest little items he could get, from a stormchaser to a gnarly skull and even winning with a lottery ticket. After some shopping he met up with Penny and Yuliya, not being able to hold his joy in for a moment as he hugged his cousin. ”Thank you” He made a small detour after they went to the Annex to get some nice scoops of Perrench Vanilla for the three of them. He was feeling rather generous after the carpet I can’t wait to gift them the book! He happily walked towards the Annex, the two that he got ice cream for were not present. He rushed into the annex and the book wasn’t there. Did they ditch him? Did they just take the book and leave?
It did not matter for the reason, his generosity was thrown into the trash and he had to spend something to make himself feel better. Then… he stumbled upon the Robery where he found it. The coolest pair of robes he had seen in like forever. buying them without much hesitation about what he was spending on it. He just needed it. After trying it on and buying it he decided to meet up with the rest.
❖ Seagoat cheese: creamy and exotic, imported from Meatu, will boost your RAS by 17-32 manas
❖ Yuri's Special Sauce: 'motivates' you. Provides +6 buffs to any three rolls within a scenario x 2
❖ Illuminated Skull of the Demon Priest: A human skull said to be able to enslave demons of tier 3 or lower and bend them to its master's control.
❖ Three Little Pigs: matching hats that allow uses to speak into each other's minds within one kilometer
❖ The Sultan's Carpet: an imbued flying mount, not quite as durable or destructive as a dragon, but highly maneuverable and far more convenient.
❖ Void Waders: demonic shoes that can anchor one within the VOID, allowing use of voidwalking spells +2 levels.
❖ Dark Tome of Shaz-Gouruth: a dark tome containing an uppity tier 4 demon
❖ Juvenile Stormchaser: a midsized dragon, soon to be rideable. Powerful electric generation.
❖ Irresistible Charms Potion: makes you far more attractive to other people. May have unintended consequences. x5
❖ Perrench Vanilla: will remind Perrench characters of home. Will give any buffs, combo defenses, or healing done between them advantage. x4 (And sadness)
❖ The Revidian: will allow one more consecutive use of a school before the predictability penalty kicks in. x2
❖ Baby's First Blankie: an imbued blanket with a powerful illusion. Makes anyone it's draped around look like a toddler.
❖ Eisenkraft Robes: made of Ghulthite and Haureenium thread, provides +4 resistance against heat-based, kinetic and material spells as well as 24 manas. Also looks evil as hell.
❖ Screaming Lemon Juice: raises RAS modifier tier by one when using heat-based spells
❖ Brooch of Abnegation: detects internal chemical magic up to tier 5 and automatically fights it off. Also adds 18 manas.
❖ Shinigami's Tome: they say that writing someone's true name in here will cause them to die.
❖ Strange Picture-Making Device: sirrahi junk dredged up from a recent shipwreck. Makes instant images of people!
❖ Burning Eye: an artificial eye that allows one to focus an intense electromagnetic wave beam (yes, a laser) through it. Twice per scenario, they may roll 12d3.
❖ Blue Boomcherry Buster: an incredibly sour but incongruously sweet liqueur from Nashibansek. Will sell for MUCH more in Ersand'Enise. Will also reduce three incoming attacks by 2 points in a scenario.
Qasem was going to take a life, a mostly innocent one at that. All to ensure the evils stored within the crown do not reach the mortal world. Even if it tainted his own soul, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. His holy vow to uphold the Six’s will clashed with his values, and he had made his choice. He sentenced Dorothea to death, with the crowns destruction all but secured once the heinous act was committed.
He carried the girl under his arm, aided by the unnatural strength that only grew as time passed. Held on his other hand were the stolen metal flasks. The other beasts naturally avoided him as his wildblood scent became apparent to his own senses, leaving any pursuer to struggle against intercepting beasts. The Darhannic’s destination was the hunting lodge he had scouted out, where he could finish the job without being exposed in the middle of the first.
The door was tackled open. Qasem had grown in size, as did his teeth. The shifting bone structure was pure agony to him, but he soldiered on. Dory was tossed into the singular bed of the edifice before he fell to his hands, just barely catching the edge of the dining table. “Damn it …” he panted, cold sweats rapidly accumulating as the transformation got more and more aggressive. A shivering hand reached for one of the concealed vials inside his vest, one containing a few millilitres of plushtail oil. But as he dried to pour the substance into his mouth, his hand spasmed, causing the glass to fall and break onto the floor. “No!” he growled as he smashed his fist onto the table, obliterating it. It was not going to stop his transformation, but it was to delay it.
“I … Can’t let you … Leave!” Dory heard a distorted voice that sounded like her ally’s. He hardly looked like Qasem anymore as she slowly came to, seeing the world around her blurry and her body still a tad numb. “We both can’t leave!” screamed the partially transformed Qasem as he raised his massive palm over Dory’s head, just about ready to crush it along with the crown.
Dory, waking up to a massive palm raised over her head kept quiet, thoughts racing through her mind as to what to do. In fear she tried to push herself away with what little kinetic knowledge she had. "We can't leave?!" She blurted it out in a little bout of fear and frustration. Why me? What did I do?
Not wasting much time, the girl took out her dagger and readied for whatever this... thing would do. Taking a deep breath whilst not lowering her guard. "Why can't we leave?"
Manfred had been left behind by whatever was going on closer to the town and he was left with mixed feelings. They would need his help there. There was a purposefulness to the animals' attacks this time, as if his allies were being corralled. On the other hand, that Darhannic - a man who'd claimed to be relaxed and decent-natured - had turned out to be just another religious extremist, like that vile nun from Warlisz. Manfred should've disposed of him on the spot. Now, further corrupted by the wildblood virus, he was trying to murder Manfred's beloved.
For a moment, as he put a volley of bullets through the head of an onrushing wildblood, it struck him how callous he'd become - how like the men he had hated as a youth of fourteen. To take life so... He stopped himself. There was a job to do. Someone was trying to kill the woman he loved in cold blood. Fuck 'mercy'. he lined up another shot, pumped it into the chest of a small beast, and rushed forward towards where he knew that religious hypocrite would be hiding.
It was not Ismette who stalked through the forested periphery of Mandelein, nor the tempered version of Leluun who had encountered Casii earlier. The day was already lost. People had died by the dozens and were presently dying by the hundreds. Casii had been part of it. Manfred had been part of it. They all had.
Now, these poor, mindless beasts were trying to 'channel' her. There was something greater behind them. She could not be certain what it was, but she also knew, with equal certainty, that this was why she could not let herself be channeled.
An snarling wolflike beast threw itself at her, but it was slow and telegraphed. She stepped back and slammed her elbow down into the top of its skull, splitting it. The creature that had been human until a few hours ago went limp and died. She moved on. Guilt could not slow her steps. She was past that point.
Leluun passed a farm where the barn was on fire. It was all backlit with this ghastly orange light as sparks and thick black smoke billowed into the nighttime sky. There were more of the beasts: perhaps the entire family and farmhands who lived there. They came pouring out in her direction, one on fire, and she almost flinched, but if she strayed from her path, if she let them start bending her the other way, she'd be lost. It would all be for nothing.
There was a greater danger.
A pair of children, dressed in the remnants of a tattered dress and a pair of suspender pants, threw themselves at her with keening howls and slavering snarls. It disgusted her, what had come of them: what had happened here. They were fast, but telekinesis was faster, and she broke their arms and legs. This was not over. She would find the ones responsible and - yes - she would kill them.
But there were six more and Leluun focused on the burning one. She stoked the flames and immolated it faster than it could heal. They came from all directions, though. She snapped one's neck and stopped another's heart, but that left three more. One hammered her into the ground, even as she drew most of its momentum away. The impact still smarted and she felt her wrist give way. The second met with a pillar of stone to the chin and staggered back, snout broken. The third got through. It got to that injured arm and bit down and the yasoi could feel the foreign manas enter her body. In seconds, they would turn her. She tore a hole in reality right inside the beast's head and it died on the spot.
Leluun rose to her feet. Look at them heal. They were already healing. She did not have time for precision. The corruption was traveling further up her arm and she took a deep breath, gathered her magic, and severed it at the elbow.
There was no pain for a moment. The diseased arm hit the ground with a meaty 'thunk' and she stalked forward. It was an effort to stem the blood loss. She could not cauterize the wound or there'd be no recovering the limb. She did not envy Tyrel'yrash. Then, the pain began to hit her. Biting back a moan, Leluun muted the impulses in her nerves. She turned off the pain centers in her brain.
There were more of those blasted fucking wolfmen. "Moad, joi pax sil spax," she hissed from between clenched teeth. The roots of a tree leapt up, sharp as knives, and impaled one through the chest. She turned the air in one's lungs into to carbon monoxide and sealed its mouth. They just kept coming, though: suicidal. It made her sick that these had been people. It made her sick that she was doing this, but she did it. Whoever you are, doing this, you are evil on a profound level. I will not just kill you. I will make you beg for the release of death.
Three more, and she finally had a reprieve. Leluun reached inside of herself, into the map her body kept of itself, into the flow of her blood and the intuition of her manas. She knelt, momentarily, and drew from the downed body of one of those monstrosities. It was flesh, at least. She went into herself then and, first, a severed radius and ulna regrew, then the wrist, and the delicate little bones of her hand and fingers. Ligaments filled the gap, then muscle and tendons. Arteries twined through the renascent limb and blood trickled down, soaking the soil beneath her. Then, a sense of touch - reborn nerves - and it hurt! By Exi did it hurt! Finally, the skin. She could feel them howling, and she had to hurry. The skin. She covered it. It still stung. It bruised. It felt... less than right, but she was whole again.
Leluun ran. She ran through the primeval forest and the burning night and the howls and swarms of unholy creatures who had been made this way by someone evil. She escaped their channel of death and made it to a place in the forest - one that she knew from before - one that should have been safe. However, as she drew near, blessedly alone, she realized that it was not.
Missed. Qasem had missed his strike when it was sprawled so conveniently for him. He wouldn't have missed it had he been human. But alas, he was more beast than man at this point. Still, his mind was present like a four moons transformation, but his body was quickly undergoing a full transformation much like the rest of the villagers. It hurt so much, and the constant wheezing from this once pious man was a reminder to all of just how insidious this plague truly was to the people. It wasn't just a weekly blackout, it was inhuman pain they were mercifully made to forget, but the body most certainly remembered.
“You. Are. Tainted.” he managed to utter in a distorted voice, his drool coated lips barely moving as he uttered the words as he removed his hand from the obliterated bed he had just smashed. “Demon!” his animalistic eyes were fixed on Dory's porcelein head, so eager to pluck it out of her body like a pineapple. His massive body charged toward the girl, keen on pinning her and finishing the job.
Not too far was her rifle dropped under the table that held a half-opened map and the vials Qasem had taken with him.
The frenzy abruptly stopped as the malformed wildblood began to sniff the air. He was too late, her friends had already caught up. And, oddly enough, he recognized the stench of the Yasoi harlot all too well, along with the expected boyfriend. He wished it didn't have to come to this - that only he and this girl would be the only casualties of this underhanded initiative - but Oraff had completely forsaken on this night. None would be spared, for the sake of all is good in this world.
The girl's eyes began to sharpen as she pumped herself full so that her focus stayed on target. "Tainted? The hells do you mean? My goals are pure!" Making sure to keep her distance from the beast. "But that's funny coming from the words of a tainted man." She could make an attempt for the rifle but felt it was slightly too risky in their current standoff. Demon?... Ah, so that's what it's about. Smirking with a rather annoyed look plastered on her expression. "This crown? Everyone's talking about it for a while. Is it one of the divine artefacts of the gods or something? First Ismette, then Laska and a damned mutt? The hell do you pay so much attention to my little head apparel?"
It was at that very moment that Leluun burst inside. She had heard it all. "Oh for fuck's sake, Dory," she huffed, "Stop. Just stop. You wear it when you're in class. You wear it when you're out with friends." She rolled her eyes before shooting the half-transformed Qasem a warning glare. "You wear it at school clubs. You took it into the bathchamber, the privy, and you wore it to bed for the love of Dami!" She shook her head. "Cut the shit." She pointed at Qasem. "Wolfbreath here's a fucking psycho, but he's right. That shit's not normal. It just isn't. Full stop." She snorted a much-vexed sigh and shook her head in annoyance. "I'm a dark mage. I know demons far better than I'd like to, and there's at least a tier five in your crown, making you dance like a marionette." Her voice went from incredulous to earnest but deadly serious. "Take it off now - prove you can do it - and I'll make sure Beauty over here doesn't lay a finger on you, so help me Pentad." She made the sign of the Pentad, but she was drawing energy as she spoke. "Don't, and I remove it myself."
Qasem, or what was left of the man, had the instinct to stop and shoot a glare back at not-Ismette. She spoke reason, for once in this crazy adventure, someone spoke sense. He could just barely restrain himself from exacting the removal on his own, but he backed off, instead reaching for the poison-coated spear that seemed much shorter than it was before. Gods was he big, nearly destroying the beams of wood that kept this cabin together.
"Ismette? What's this about all of the sudden?" Dory looked fairly confused at the knife-ear she never recognized to act this way throughout an entire year. "You want me to remove it?" Her free hand travelled towards the crown on top of her head, stopping as she was about to touch it. "Why? You just want it for yourself?" Her hand shook from hesitation.
Leluun narrowed her eyes. "Stop deflecting." Her voice was cold now. "I want you to take that evil thing off of your head so I can have my friend back before a demon takes her soul. That is all. Please, Dory." She paused and tilted her head as if noticing something. "If you don't trust me, you should give it to Manfred and he can take care of it. I can sense him approaching and so can you if you don't believe me. Surely, he's someone beyond reproach."
Dory's expression was one of mental torment. "I'm not deflec-..." She cut herself off, letting out a long sigh to cool her head. "Fine, as long as I can get it back." poking the crown whilst staring down 'Ismette' "I'll take it off once Manfred arrives, alright?"
"I thought our friendship meant more," Leluun sighed, "But very well." She kept an eye on Qasem, in case he tried anything. She could se the chemicals in his body, the flux in his mind. He was losing control. It hurt her to see, but there was something far grander and more dangerous at play. Qasem breathed heavily, and spittle oozed from his dark, canine lips. He shot an inhuman look at the Yasoi.
"Our friendship does mean a lot!" Her mind was in anguish as mixed emotions ran rampant. "Why does waiting a longer hurt you so? I still trust you." Her hand grabbed onto the crown, almost determined to show her she could do it on a whim.. but her hand could only shiver at the attempt.
Manfred appeared in the doorway, rifle raised, pointed at Qasem. "Manfred," said Leluun, "The crown. You know it's unnatural, how she wears it. It's a demonic artifact. I asked her to give it up to you since she wouldn't trust me with it." Her eyes were large and pained. "This is Qasem now. He's infected. He's trying to hold onto his reason. I can cover him if he loses it."
"Is there any truth to her words, Dory? Do I trust this witch?" Manfred's eyes darted her way, and then Dory's before settling back on Qasem. He was prepared to act, they could tell. He kept his distance and kept in ready position, brimming with energy.
"I wanted to give it to you because Ismette wanted me to take it off." Her hand started to get steady, preparing to take it off for the one held most dear. "I trust Ismette, Manny... However, she's been acting weird." a saddened expression covered her face as she looked towards Manfred.
Leluun merely watched, immune to the words. Then, they became more than that. In a single, smooth motion, Manfred trained his rifle on Ismette. "My love, she is right that the crown has a demon in it and that you need take that thing off, but..." His eyes flashed about, paranoid. "not now. Not in her presence. Your instincts are right: this is not Ismette. It's something else wearing her skin."
The presence of Manfred expedited the growing desire for violence bubbling inside Qasem. Like a sneeze he had been holding back for far too long, it was getting unbearable. And then came actual violence. Gun pointing on not just himself, but the supposed 'witch' that saw reason in all this madness. No more humanity, he couldn't afford it anymore. All he could do to show that he was a man was readying his spear for a quick, horizontal slash aimed right at Dory's head. Neck, scalp, anything in between, it didn't matter. It just had to go along with that crown.
It was at that moment that Dory's fingers brushed the crown. The world slowed to a crawl. "You are about to die." It was Vedil. "But I can save you. I want to. Please, Dory. Let me take the wheel." The whole situation was getting way out of hand for her. She just wanted to do this task and go back to Ersand'Enise and now she's facing a nigh-imminant death. "Can you keep the others safe too? I do not wish for Manny to get hurt again." "It is you who I am loyal to and you who is about to lose her head. I will do what I can for him, but Manfred is...capable. Have faith in him." She knew she shouldn't but the fear of death got to her. "Fine... but please. I can't bear to lose him again.. He is a priority as well."
With that, for the first time in centuries, Vedil knew what it was to have a body. It was not one that he would've preferred, but it was willing, at least. There was no more young woman named Dorothea standing in the space that Qasem's spearpoint passed through. Instead, there was only the hungering darkness. The tip of it was removed from reality, cleanly severed as if it had never been there in the first place. Dory reappeared somewhere nearby, only... she wasn't Dory anymore. She looked like herself, but she carried herself differently, moved differently, and used magic that the others could not quite fathom. She reached out to commune with the void.
Then, there was a flash of darkness, as paradoxical as it may have been, and Leluun disappeared. Manfred's eyes darted around wildly, and he tried to reach out and sense her.
Nothing.
She reappeared in front of Dory. "You were warned." Her hand shot out, a bullet from a rifle, straight for Dory's face. The speed of it was absurd, but so were this false Dorothea's reflexes. The bulletlike punch grazed her cheek, scoring it deeply and raising a bleeding welt. Instead, it smashed into the wall behind her with enough force to punch a perfectly clean hole through it. There were no splinters - no mess - to speak of. Then, Leluun was gone again.
Without hesitation, Manfred snapped off a volley of five shots at her. A wall of shadow ate them all. "I recognize your reek, Vedil!" Leluun screamed. "And I, yours, High Devil." Vedil smirked. Then, a void portal opened over Dory's head. The bullets came screaming back out at her, only to be stopped midair. They clattered to the ground, thumping on the worn wooden floor of the cabin that had become a battleground. "Your presence is not required here, Manfred. Desist or die."
Nauseating dark magic reigned surpeme in this bad. Manfred's bullets mere hazards liberally used by Leluun to bolster her own wicked powers and direct all the hostilities toward the possessed Dorothea. The transformed Qasem could smell the reek of something else coming from the possessed girl, and it drove him mad. Animalistic pants were becoming louder than the verbal exchanges made by the entities at play and telegraphed the coming brutish assault from the beast clergyman.
Binding magic restored his spear while blood magic began to compromise the foundations of the cabin. He aggressively drew to bolster the size and sharpness of his spear while using the small bit of intelligence he had left to add lethality to the poison coating his spear. The venomous tip was thrusted foward to the Feskan Puppet, this time aiming for her heart. Yet all the spear did was evaporate as it tried to hit it's mark.
It was a lost cause now. The demon had taken over and her friend - its puppet - was gone. Leluun tore from the VOID willingly and eagerly, hurling a bolt of pure anti-reality at her target and it would've overwhelmed her, too. But then there was that fool, Manfred. Seeing the sorceress try to harm his beloved, he ripped a chunk of matter from the fireplace and hurled it into the path of the dark bolt, using every magic at his disposal in the effort.
It was successful, and the thing that controlled Dorothea did not waste the opportunity. For all that Leluun tore from the VOID, she pulled far more power and her reprisal happened so quickly that the yasoi had not even fully registered her failure.
The dark bolt materialized out of an enveloping nothingness. It flew and struck Leluun and cleaved right through her. There was a split second where her eyes widened. Memeories of a dozen lifetimes flashed through her mind's eyes. It was true, then, about your life flashing before your eyes. Last was Tyrel. Last was Merit. Last was her mother, but the face was her own. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of it. Then, she was gone.
Manfred paused. He looked at Dory. She was not his Dory. There was not an ounce of remorse. In fact... there was a smile. A sick, wicked little grin wormed its way onto her face and it was the most disgusting thing he could recall seeing. He swayed where he stood. What had he done? His heart pounded and he could feel his pulse in his ears.
It wasn't that Ismette had died. She was a vile and worthless thing in her own right. It was the coldblooded ruthlessness of it - it was the twisted enjoyment. This was not Dory. It was an ancient evil in her place. Manfred turned his rifle. He knew his duty.
He fired.
It was a desperate gambit. He knew how these demons worked. He had spent hours upon hours studying their foul nature by candlelight. Much as it pained him, Manfred needed to wound his beloved mortally. Then, the demon would leave. Then, he could heal her. Then, he could save her. She was busy with the slavering beast that had been Qasem and, like any good magusjaeger, he took advantage. Two shots to distract the beast: four aimed straight for the chest of his beloved. Two punched through her. She let out a cry of pain, stumbled forward, and coughed up a thick dark gob of blood. The crown fell from her head and clattered before her. Instinctively, despite the unbelievable pain and spreading coldness, she reached out and clutched it.
"You see why we shouldn't trust him?" Vedil purred in her mind's ear. "How quickly he turns on you? How he would murder you? Is that love?" It was clear that her friend int he crown did not think so. "You are going to die at his hand, Dorothea, but I will never betray you. I will never hurt you. We are in this together, I promise. I must heal you or it will be the end. Hand me the reins, once more, and I will deal with this problem, for us."
Dory displayed a face of shock. The person she gave everything for... shot her? Was Ismette really gone? A blood-curdling scream coming from her. "Why?!" She cried out. Maybe it was a panicked shot from what happened... She tried her hardest to rationalize everything that had happened in this small space. He would never betray me right?Can you not heal me and give me control back? I might be able to convince him to stop The girl looked conflicted.
Manfred was not fast to react. The world felt faint and fuzzy and his pulse hammered through his ears. Fortunately, Dory, even with the blood soaking through her dress, had the wherewithal to blast the wildblood's hand with coldfire and force it to retract. It was a reminder that this was still within reach. Manfred could do it. He knew his beloved. She was tough and, free of this evil relic's grasp, she was good. He could not bear to see her suffer, even less because he had been the one to cause it. He just needed to kill a beast, and killing beasts was what Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thadau did.He regarded the thing that Qasem had become with imperious coldness masking hellish fury. "I never liked you anyways."
Manfred rolled to the side, pulled upon Magnetic magics, and arced the bullets right into the werewolf's stomach and back. It was the spine. It would heal, of course, but it would buy him time and time was what Manfred needed most. It was what Dory needed.
As the magusjager's shots usually did, these ones struck true.
Qasem, mind slowed by the corrupt blood running through his veins, had to inefficiently flails his burning arm to subdue the invisible flames. It was shameful to see, a man so knowledgeable in the chemical arts, now dealing with the prestigious Coldfire spell in such a brutish manner. It opened him up to being shot in multiple spots, prompting gurgles and growls to be solely directed at Manfred. He was now the target.
The beast began to aggressively draw from the Magusjaeger's flesh via blood magic, the exact same way Casii had. Dory was also at risk of being caught in it.
"There must be only certainty. They are trying to kill you. They are not your friends. Let me help you," the demon pleaded. It was at that moment that she started to feel it, dimly, through her compromised senses: a tug on the crown. Manfred's face was haunted, eyes wide and sunken, implacable.
Manfred pulled, then, with all of his might, but Dory's strength, suddenly, was inhuman, and Manfred knew it for the demon. "Let it go!" he bellowed. "Let her go, you fiend!!!" He could not pry it loose. It was, at this juncture, clearly the most precious thing in the world to her.There was nothing else he could do. If Manfred couldn't take the crown from Dory, he'd just move it with her attached to it. As Qasem closed in, the magusjaeger slacked off in his pulling such that what had to be Vedil relaxed in its struggle. Then, at the last second possible, Manfred yanked suddenly upward. The solid metal object caught the malformed wildblood beneath its snout and sent it sprawling backwards.
Qasem roared, almost entirely consumed. He only had one focus. A ball of condensed flame is formed on his palm from the matter he had syphoned via blood magic earlier in the fight. It becomes a sphere of molten matter, a fusion of blood, chemical and kinetic. It was sloppy with his fur beginning to burn, but it was potent. If he couldn't get the crown, he'd destroy everything in his way and everything around the wicked object.
It was not an act of mercy, though some might've construed it that way. It was an execution: an act of the purest hatred. Qasem fell, a bullet hole through his head and another through his throat. No wildblood resilience or healing factor could undo those.
Manfred rushed over to Dory's side. He had done it! He had slain the beast and now he would heal her. He reached out with his senses, both mundane and magical, praying at once to Ipte, Oraff and Dami as he started to gather what he needed to bind.
She wasn't moving.
There was no heartbeat.
For a moment, he would swear, his own stopped. "Meine liebe!" He knelt there, holding the woman he'd loved, her stiffening hand still clenched around that accursed relic in what was now truly a deathgrip. "Meine liebe..." His hands shook, then, of their own accord. They shook and the inside of Manfred became a dead, painful, hollow thing. His mind thought no thoughts and the sound that he released was an animal thing. He screamed. He hammered his hands into his face and wept bitter, cruel tears. He had done this. It had been him, not the crown and the devil in it.
His hands fell away and, even amid the endless of suffering of a small Kerreman town called Mandelein, there was no soul more bereft, more stricken than that of Manfred Hohenfelter. Nothing. It had all been for nothing. He had been torn from Dory - his Dory, with her sweet, loving voice and her freshly baked cookies on Victendes mornings. So much had he suffered. So much had he fought, against the dark sorceress Ismette. He had watched friends fall: Penny, Desmond, Ashon, and the paradigm himself, Hugo Hunghorasz. Yet, they had prevailed. Then, he'd been torn from them. Torn and brought here. The tears came thicker and faster. They thought he was dead! They were his people and they thought he was dead.
But... perhaps it was for the better. What an animal he'd become! He'd conspired to murder. He'd shot his beloved, even if she wasn't exactly his. He'd come to a sort of happiness with her but, now, even that was gone. This Ismette wasn't even evil. She'd been an ally and he'd been instrumental in her death. He'd killed Qasem: a good - if misguided - man. He'd killed elders and children. He'd spilled blood for this stupid, ungrateful town. He'd... Manfred looked up at the sky through the collapsed roof and ruins. Four of the five were up there tonight, all except for Dami, but he knew that he was being judged. There was no way he could not be. Desperately, the weak man that he was beneath all of his swagger and bravado, Manfred seized upon the object of his hatred - that fell thing still clutched in dear dead Dory's hand. He could do one thing, at least, hollow though it was: he could destroy it.
He hesitated for only a second before his hard darted out, clawlike, to grab it. No sooner did his fingers touch the warm metal - wet with the blood of the woman he'd been trying to save - than he felt a voice inside of his head. "Hello, Manfred."
"Get out of my head!!! Get out, vile thing! You killed her!"
There was a pause and he dared to believe that he was rid of it. He was wrong. "No, Manfred. You did. You did and they will see the bullet wounds in her and in Qasem and in Ismette. These people who have already shown what they think of you. Who already react to good will with fear and suspicion."
If he hesitated, it was only for the barest of moments. "You will not find me so easily swayed by your sweet poison, demon. I would die to stop myself from becoming your vessel."
"Oh, I know," came the reply, "You are not a man afraid of suffering to do what he thinks is right." Vedil's devilish voice was almost... sympathetic. "That is why I would not even dream of making such an offer."
"Whatever it is, I am not interested. You end here." He gathered every bit of heat that he could and began filling the evil crown with it. He cared little for the burning flesh of his hand.
"I can take you back!" the voice pleaded, with no little urgency. "I can take you back to them! To where you belong! You and I will never see each other again. My counterpart in your reality was defeated."
"But you will remain," Manfred replied. "Here, you will remain."
"One does not make an offer without some recompense, and that is what I do for you now, Manfred Hohenfelter, twice killed, twice a killer." Vedil had been rushing but, now, his voice calmed. The heat that had threatened to melt his reliquary was cooling. "I only ask that you wash your hands of this place so that I may wash my hands of you. You shall remember nothing if you wish. You may return, in fact, to the very moment of your supposed 'death' in your true world. It will be as if all of this never happened, for you and for your loved ones."
"And you will work your evils anew."
"This is not your world, though the Dorothea here was callous enough to rip you from it and bring you here. She was never yours. She was mine and her unwillingness to let me go, to part with me when it would've ended the entire threat to herself and everybody else here, stands as evidence. I ask you, Manfred Hohenfelter: Why should you care?"
Dory was standing in a white room. It was featureless, save for the deepest, darkest spot of blackness. It resolved itself into a man: he was short and lean and middle-aged, his black hair smoothed back, his leathery skin pale and hard. His eyes burned orange-red - they did not glow - and a pair of horns grew from the top of his head. He stepped forward, boots echoing on the pristine floor, hands clasped at the small of his back, a long cloak swirling about his ankles.
"No, I am not some embodiment of Eshiran," he said simply, answering her mental prompt. "I am the one you know as Vedil. This is my true form, and I stand between you and the death god's gates." He unclasped his hands and spread them. His brow was furrowed and his face concerned. "Why did you not trust me?" He turned and looked away for a moment, taking a breath to gather himself. His voice was shaky now. "For the past year, we have known each other." He swallowed. "We have worked together. We have triumphed and - yes - sometimes even failed together." He came to a stop a couple of feet in front of her. His being was otherworldly, but also so startlingly human, but for those unfathomable eyes: so mundane. "I do not want to let you die." He shook his head. "I do not want to die."
He took another deep breath and he was settled. "A demon I may be, but when have I ever acted like the monster that they claim? When have I ever asked you to do something that either did not benefit you or that you would not have done of your own volition? When have I ever asked you to do something immoral?" His voice rose in indignation. "And these attacks on you, I am so sorry. I am so very sorry, but they lie. Ismette, your 'friend' who tried to murder you, who you struck back at in self-defense. Edyta Laska: a 'nun' who uses the power of the VOID herself and hides secrets. Qasem, a holy man who sought the power of the wildbloods and then your power - our power! They say they want to destroy me but, when given the chance to do so, they attack you directly anyhow. It is your strength and your knowledge they crave, to make up for the great many things that they lack: all things that I saw in you." He took one more step forward and reached out to take her hands. "And I have yet more to give: a power that I would trust only you with, a power that can set much in this world right." He snorted. "I am not an evil being. I want to see you rise to power. I want to see you make the world right. It isn't my world. I wish, in truth -" he sighed, glancing down at his feet and then back up at her. "I wish only to live again - to live among mortals for one lifetime, as I have not done in centuries - to be whole again, and then to return to my realm in the void, to the people I care about. For this," he promised, "I will give you everything: all of my power, all that I have, for you to make matters right. This, I promise. You need only embrace me."
Dory looked around the white room, a shocked look on her face as the being that claimed to be Vedil told her something she had not expected to happen. Death god's gates? I'm dead? taking a deep breath, calming herself down. "You were right, I should have trusted you. " Her eyes filled with regret and guilt upon not having done so for the one that helped her thrive.
"Why did they attack me? I thought they were my friends... Even Ismette... Ismette.. the one person she talked to about dark magic decided to turn against he when just needed help." Her expression saddened before molding into one of anger. "They killed me when I had so much to do, to make the world a better place." Her eyes met it's. "I want to make the things right... To make right the country I care about, to make right this unfair world... I will embrace you."
Vedil stepped forward and enfolded her in his arms. Dorothea felt his warmth, his power, his certainty flow into her through the embrace. "I thank you for your trust. It is dear to me, as are you."
With that gesture, the gashes and gouges in her body - the damage done to her by those who had claimed to be friends and lovers - were taken unto his person. Blood stained the demon's dark cloak as they separated, but he smiled beatifically and showed no sign of discomfort.
"Be healed, now. These are wounds I can bear," he assured her as the white room faded. He, too, faded: from person - real and corporeal and warm in his embrace - to a voice once again. "Until we see each other again in person, my dear Dorothea," he promised. Then, she was standing there in the ruins of a cabin in the forests of Mandelein, a dead werewolf beside her and not another soul to be seen.
As she began to mentally realize her surroundings once more, she realised... she was alone. The only other previously living thing being that of the Darhannic man's deformed form.. though she had to make sure it was truly dead. Her finger touched the carcass and before she could think of anything else it moved. Well, not it but it's flesh and bones began to move. They were forming a portal of sorts and out from it... came a pup?
Fasha, even if she would hide her status in ornate dresses and jewelry she was still a low-born at the end of the day to much of her annoyance, although making sure it isn’t shown on her face. Uuugh, at least with them I might be able to make Ana jealous…
Fasha, wearing a soft smile on her expression, made her entrance. Adorned in an ornate blue dress ornamented with gold and gemstones. An Illuminaire has to show off at least a little. A feathered mask to cover her features, not that her features were that easily concealable.
The Illuminaire of Ivar’s approached the group with a small wave. ”Good evening.” She bowed towards her date before putting her gaze at her underclassmen. ”Sylvia, Kaspaan.” Her eyes scanned their attire before smirking. ”You both look great together!” The temptation to pat their heads was something almost irresistible.
Then another face was present, a girl… wearing a Ivar medallion ”Kaspaan, do you know her?” A confused expression was plastered on her face. A soft sigh escaped her, trying to get to a face to face level with the girl with a warm smile.. ”May you be one of the newer students? My name’s Fasha, mind if I ask for yours?”
Tessa Vellhart:"So damned enthusiastic at most times, just smile and nod."
Minerva Weiss:"The perfect example of a leader, if only I could show off my hard work in public..."
Jinoquio:"Even if her classes are annoying at times, her knowledge is vast."
George Keldorn:"Everything's so damned cluttered with this guy... "
Amara Mako:"Even if her teaching style isn't my cup of tea... her deeds are truly astonishing "
Ivo Featherswallow:"A shame their classes were over, his directness was always fun to watch other students get flustered over."
Magus Babalu:"A man to aspire to be, shame he can't earn more of my respect for being born into privilege."
Grune:"A woman of my taste, though she might have to work on her temperament a bit.... otherwise than that she's the perfect professor!"
Patty Grumble:"After all that... How can she still be so nauseatingly cheerful?"
Caelum Incanowitz:"Too bombastic for my taste, but his humble origins and aspirations are inspiring."
Jahn-Klaus Lovebourne:"I hope I'll never be called his "Little Hummingbird" ever again..."
Lili Bugg:"I'll respect your mask as long as mine is as well..."
Bishop Coldspring:"Smells bad... good stories..."
Tselha Perugu:"Life may be unfair, but I will change my own reality."
Ishaal Perugu:"A teacher with a gift they can't control?... What a great role model..."
Haleakua Alohilani:"Too loud... too goofy... leads to headaches..."
Theodore Grisvögel:"The only teacher who gives me a semblemce of joy in his classes..."
Cornelius Hugo Osgood-Darling Jr. IV:"Filth, absolute high class filth... If only he was oblivious enough to let me sneak into high society through him.."
Krystal Heartfilia:"The bees... are offputting..."
Students.
Petyr Nostrade:"His believe in fate pisses me off..."
Anastasia Arslan:"Do you still desire my touch like you did before?"
Kaspaan Mustaven:"A fellow that seems to have had a hard time as well before... to take care of and use when needed..."
Leah Eusebia Clearwater:"Something about having such a great lineage pisses me off... I'm not her sister! I barely know her, stop asking!"
Lhoren Faith Ashdale:"Need to be careful what I think about when close to her..."
Myrion Stevar:"Nothing much of note past his gift, though I am interested how strong mine will be with his..."
Kaithe Dame
Ti
Lildear18
WhiteAngel25
dragonpiece
YummyYummy
Zygfryt
Suicharte
Play Misty
