The Darklight Project — Roleplayer Guild

H'kela

While the desperation was clear within many in the group to save the Queen, it would have been easily argued that Cyril was the one most desperate to reach her. Almost before he finished yelling his order he was leaping forwards, falling upon three H'kelan soldiers at once. It was more than just a reckless decision, as any normal soldier would have been quickly killed, but the adrenaline brought on by his sheer desperation brought such a strength upon Cyril that he was practically a whirlwind, escaping with barely more than a cut on his cheek and leaving three carved bodies behind as he went on to the next. With such movements though, it was only a matter of time before he made a mistake, and that came sooner rather than later.

The soldier approached him from many of his blind sides, thanks to the Prince's tunnel vision focused upon the Queen. It would have been easy for the man to thrust the spear he held deep into the Prince's side, ending his life and breaking the back of this rescue attempt in the same moment. It would have been easy, and the man would have been a H'kelan hero; however, he never got a chance. The Prince and his surroundings were being watched, and as soon as the danger was detected the watcher fell upon the man with a spear. Just as the H'kelan approached Cyril from a blind side, the soldier was approached from his own blind side, and the one who approached him did so much faster than he was able to reach the Prince.

The H'kelan died instantly, the blade that was stabbed through his neck from the side severing his spine completely. When the blade was drawn away the man was allowed to fall, crumpling at the feet of the Direwolf. Cyril was not aware of what he had been saved from, his focus only on the next man in front of him, but the red-headed warrior simply continued to watch him as the Prince continued on. A fool tried to attack him from the side, and without even looking the Direwolf flicked his blade up, sending the H'kelans flying before he stabbed him through the left eye, and out the back of the skull. The entire time his focus was on the Prince, watching for what danger might be approaching next.

Nearby, the "son" of the Lady of the Abyss was being bogged down. Fighting with his fists, electric as his gauntlets were, placed him at a disadvantage in this situation, thrust in the middle of a hostile force without being able to approach them on his own terms, and draw them out. Though he had broken enough bones with his first few hits to leave several H'kelans on the ground, this weakness was eventualy taken advantage of, and the young man surrounded by enemies with raised shields and weapons poking at him from all directions. It was more than a little frustrating as he had to dodge back and forth in the small area, every weapon he broke being almost instantly replaced by another. More than once he was stabbed deeply, the stagger that came afterwards causing him to be hit even more, only to wrench away and begin healing from all of the wounds, slowly but surely.

"YOU COWARDLY COCK-SUCKING MOTHERFUCKERS-!"

"I know you can take a hit, my foul-mouthed friend, but that doesn't mean you should!" The heavily-accented words were somehow easily heard even as several H'kelans screamed as they were flung to the sides with blows that seemed more blunt that sharp, despite the axe that was swung back and forth to clear the path. Even as Christopher stumbled back once again, Gortul was stepping aside, and Sampson rushed forwards with his shield raised. Past Christopher he went, crashing into the opposite side of the circle, and in a matter of seconds the circle was crumbling away.

Bleeding profusely from several wounds, Christopher took one staggering step before shaking his head, but before he could follow after the already advancing Sentinels he took a blow to the side of the head. It nearly sent him down, but before he could fall over a hand was grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, keeping him upright before Diane released him to begin healing him. "Just because you Divine-powered can recover from a hit doesn't mean you have to throw yourself into the stupidest of situations. Be careful or I'm going to cut your ankles next time so you'll have a second to cool off."

Diane's only response was an extended middle finger, and off Christopher went. While Diane just gave a humph and brushed her hair back some, one H'kelan left over from the circle that had enclosed Christopher yelled as he brought an axe up as he ran full speed towards her. Her gaze, however, was surprisingly cool when she looked to him, and for good reason; in the next second an arrow suddenly appeared in the side of his neck, him tumbling forwards from his run. Giving a general nod in crumbled stone finger's direction, Diane continued after those who were keeping things relatively clear for her.

As all of those upon the Barcean side continued forwards, those who had clearer heads in the middle of battle would realize that the enemy line seemed to be clearing the deeper in they went. This shouldn't have been the case, and yet it was; as they fought H'kelans, it was often over and around already injured H'kelans, left groaning and barely conscious on the ground. They had Joachim to thank for that; back and forth the entire line the smaller man went, his blade flashing back and forth to cut through the tendons necessary for a man to stand or hold his weapon. Try as they might to stop him, he was much too fast; he was often there before anyone could realize, and gone before anyone could have drawn a weapon if they still had the ability to do so.

Meanwhile, the Paladin wasn't as quite as merciful as the Phantasm, with all the irony that included. With his hammers he crushed armor and shattered skulls, leaving men behind to scream in their bloody and painful death throes as the colossus moved onto his next victim. It mattered not that he received blows that would have brought others low, if not killing him instantly; a sword through the heart did little to slow him, and the spear that ended up through his skull was simply wrenched out and cast aside even as the man who had committed such a transgression was crushed to the earth, with yet another, "Praise be!"

These crushed bodies laid among the injured left behind with the Phantasm, and both of those kinds laid with carved pieces of meat. The arms severed had been removed with surprisingly clean cuts, and the legs that laid separated from the bodies had been removed with an almost surgical precision. It wasn't the work of any sort of blade, knife or otherwise, but Calypso had the new tools to make it happen. Though she still had trouble with them sometimes, her finger tips bleeding freely, she drew the ten wires back and forth with graceful movements. They hissed lightly as they sliced through the air, and upon reaching any sort of metal, be it weapon or armor alike, there was a screech as the metal was carved to pieces; this was followed by screams, as flesh and bone so much weaker than steel was sheared through as if they were paper.

It was through the efforts of them all that they were able to push the H'kelan line back, so many there were and so tightly they were packed together, and how well they were prepared. Step by step, strike by strike they made their way towards the scaffold, one H'kelan left behind at a time. As it became clear they were driving closer to the Queen, she began to rise, eyes slightly widened...

And, up above, a madness that was yet unseen came over Gartian's grin, it stretching so far it seemed like it might tear through his own face. "Do it now."

In that moment the Advisor threw both of her hands up, palms facing upwards with her fingers curled. With that motion the very earth began to rumble. Down below, Sentinels and H'kelans alike were sent staggered, and in some cases off their feet entirely. The Prince himself fell down to one knee, looking up with a surprised expression at first to Gartian and the Advisor, then Kori, and then the ground itself as, in the space between himself and the scaffold, a large section of the ground began to swell upwards violently.

"What the H-?"

Before he could quite finish his exclamation, the earth erupted and his words were lost under the explosion of noise, and the sounds of screams as H'kelans were sent flying. Fine sand shot upwards with heavy chunks of dirt and rock as the rough hole, no less than fifty meters wide was ripped open by a massive arm. The arm was unlike anything the Prince had ever seen, long enough to stretch high up into the air, above that of the temple itself, and it was only as the rest of the body began to pull itself from the ground that he only began to realize what he was looking at.

The thing wasn't just one creature, but an amalgamation of horror. It had no skin, and at first seemed to be only made of bone; however, as it began to lift its upper half from the hole, sliding itself along the ground as its lower half began to emerge, something akin to sickly black muscle started to slither from the joints, catching the bones that had already begun to fall and hold everything in place. It was not something long dead, but made of the dead; bones from humans were put together with beasts, and those of the beast range from things they knew, like horses, to the exotic like tigers, but for the most part it was made of bones of something that had long, long ago gone distinct.

The monstrosity had three heads, each as large as an inn, or a large house. The middle head was probably the skull of a dragon, triangular in shape, sharply edged and with plenty of spikes coming from the back. The second head, on the left, was that of a snake, and it was already actively waving back and forth, seemingly to survey the scene with its eyeless sockets. The one on the right, however, was unlike anything he had ever seen; it had ridges, as if it had been crushed and then healed once again, but the only cracks within it had come from years of decay. The head of the snake and dragon extended from their own misshapen torsos that coiled around each other and eventually fused together, but the strange right head was fused into the shoulder of the middle.

Its second half was just as misshapen as the first. It was like there was yet another torso set beneath the first, before it broke out into six legs that bent at odd angles. At closer looks upon the arms and legs, it became apparent that this is where the concentration of the smaller bones were the most, especially along the fingers and wrists. Torsos of men, horses, and other beasts alike were fused together unnaturally to create the shapes.

The stench of death hung heavily in the air, and it was that smell that Cyril choked on more than he did the thick sand and dirt. He slowly began to stand, hand gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles went white. His arm trembled slightly as he looked up to the massive thing. It did not return his gaze, instead looking out over them all, one head watching the group as a whole while another watched those H'kelans that had survived flee.

Kori had nearly fallen down upon the block once again, but with the shaking having ended she once again began to rise, staring up at the writhing back of the amalgamation. Up above, Gartian howled with laughter, beginning to clap wildly and almost leaping in place in his excitement.

"GLORIOUS, UTTERLY GLORIOUS! GROVEL FOR YOUR PATHETIC LIVES! BOW BEFORE ME, SO THAT I MIGHT MAKE YOUR AGONY SHORT! FIGHT, AND YOU WILL CERTAINLY DIE!"

Even those such as the Paladin, Joachim, and the Direwolf came to a stop, not charging the thing straight on. An energy was pulsing through it every so often, and with each pulse that disgusting muscle grew, covering more of the bones. Things in the area of the temple began to fall quiet, except for the creaking of bones and the howling of Gartian... and in the distance, a clamor began to rise, but it was so faint upon the wind that Cyril couldn't hear it.

"WHAT NOW, PRINCE? WILL YOU THROW YOURSELF INTO ONE OF ITS MAWS NOW?! OR HAVE YOU FINALLY REALIZED THAT YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY BEAT ME, THAT THIS IS HOPELESS FOR YOU?! HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT TO SUFFER, BOY?!"

Cyril grit his teeth and then began to shout in return, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, GARTIAN?! WHY DO THIS?!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT, WHELP! DON'T PLAY STUPID, YOU INSULT US ALL!"

"LET KORI GO! TAKE ME INSTEAD! NONE OF US CAN BARGAIN WITH YOU WITHOUT HER-"

"CERTAINLY, SO LONG AS YOU DON'T TAKE OFF THAT LOCKET YOU'RE WEARING AROUND YOUR NECK FIRST!"

For a moment, Cyril went quiet. The tremble passed through him once again, and slowly he began to hold his arm out to the side, opening his mouth-

"ENOUGH!"

Theme of Kori's Thoughts: "Quiet's Theme" - Stefanie Joosten

Both the King of H'kela and Prince of Barcea remained silent as the Queen raised her voice louder than them all. She did not scream or screech; she simply projected, and with a commanding voice silenced the all. The look on her face was one that Cyril had never seen before; there was an intense energy there, her usual gentleness replaced with a decisive look that would have made anyone kneel. Very slowly, she looked up to Gartian, expression calm despite that energy.

"Will you not listen to reason, Gartian? Must more blood be shed in this senseless war?"

"I'LL SHED ALL OF THE BLOOD I HAVE TO, AND ALL OF THE BLOOD I WANT TO, WHORE-QUEEN! I WOULDN'T EVEN CARE IF YOU HAD SOME GIFT; I'D KILL YOU ALL JUST FOR THE SPORT OF IT! ANYTHING JUST TO SHUT YOU UP, AT THIS POINT!"

Very slowly, Kori shut her eyes, her head bowed ever slightly. For a moment she was quiet, and when she opened her eyes once again she looked forwards, to those Barceans beyond the creature that didn't look back to her, looking through the gaps in its bones and past its side, underneath its outstretched arm. A moment longer she was silent, and then she spoke again.

"There is no way I'll allow you to have the Gift. Even if it means my life."

"NO!" Cyril shouted, taking one step forwards; when he did so, the thing up above suddenly swung around to look down to him. In that moment, Christopher began to shift slightly, noticing how the beast wasn't paying attention to him as he ended up next to the Paladin's large frame, using him to more certainly keep himself out of its sight. "KORI, DON'T SAY THAT! BARCEA NEEDS YOU! WE NEED YOU! NOTHING FROM ANY DIVINE COULD MATCH YOU!"

Christopher could feel the white blade that he carried almost shaking at his side. From it he could feel anticipation and excitement, like there was some sort of wild animal clawing at its cage right on his side. Perhaps with it, he could do something before anyone did anything stupid.

Briefly, Kori's eyebrows rose slightly, her pulling back some... And then she smiled slowly, her eyes coming to a close.

"Thank you, Cyril. I know what I'll do now."

Before he could say anything, she took steps forwards, throwing her arms out to the side. Without fear she approached the great and terrible creation, so quickly that it had no choice but to finally look at her with that strange head fused to its shoulder. Once again she raised her voice, proclaiming, "This can go on no longer, Gartian. Kill me, and be done with it. I will not be used as a hostage for your ridiculous ambitions."

In that moment, several things happened.

Cyril screamed, "NO!"

Gartian howled up above, shouting, "VERY WELL THEN, WITH PLEASURE," even as the Advisor hesitated as a feeling of foreboding came over her that she hadn't felt for hundreds of years.

And, perhaps most importantly, Christopher gripped down on the hilt of the blade as he prepared to draw it, and when he did so a pulse went out. The skin behind his nails suddenly tore back, his hair blew back some, and he swore loudly; but it was the pulse that distracted the Advisor, not the swearing, and it was the distraction that caused her to lose control.

The Advisor's will over the amalgamation slipped. Something left over from whatever that strange head was stirred, something that was left deep within the bones. The violent urges of a violent creature brought back to life had been suppressed up to that point thanks to the concentration of the Advisor, but when that broke this urge was allowed to rush forwards, even as it looked down upon the Queen.

As the head gave a horrible cracking sound before it dove down, two thoughts passed through the Queen's mind.

'Goodbye Cyril, Ayano. I leave you something terrible behind, and I am so sorry for it. I love you.'

And then one thought that, if she had been aware of it afterwards, would have shamed her.

'I don't want to die.'

Its jaws snapped down upon her upper left side, wrenching her upwards off her feet. Its entire torso shook as it swung its head back and forth, her legs whipping back and forth as her spine snapped, this instict of a quick and brutal kill took out upon her already corpse. Her body broken and limp, the horror swung its head to the side, flinging her shredded body to the ground, her tumbling heavily before she finally coming to a stop on the stone.

There were screams and yelling, and howling laughter from above, but Cyril didn't hear any of that. His face was deathly pale, and he just slowly fell to his knees, body limp.

He didn't hear as Gartian yelled out, "OH, THAT WAS FANTASTIC! I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY BE STANDING AT ATTENTION RIGHT NOW, DO FORGIVE ME, BWAHAHAHAHAHAH! OH, I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS DAY FOR A LONG TIME-!"

He didn't look up to watch as the Advisor struggled to bring her out of control horror back under her command, failing to do so as it swung around to face him, the closest one, the easiest target.

He didn't hear the Sentinels screaming his name, trying to get him to move, even as both the Direwolf and Joachim rapidly approached him, but even they wouldn't have been fast enough.

The smell of battle and that terrible stench of the creature was blocked from his nostrils. He no longer tasted the blood in his own mouth.

He only felt rage.

Theme of a Violent Phenomenon: Zakuro - Suilen

As the center head, that of the dragon, began to try and snap him up as well, his gaze snapped upwards, eyes narrowed and teeth set in a grimace so wide that his bloodied gums were exposed. A growl began in the back of his throat, and it escalated into a full on roar as he suddenly stood. His blade thrust upwards, and that roar became words, ones that boomed louder than any human should have been able to do, cracking like thunder:

"BURN IN HELL, ALL OF YOU!"

At the base of his arm a red spark appeared, flickering over his clothes. In the time it took him to thrust upwards, that spark was joined by more than a dozen others, and they violently leapt upwards as well. They were not electricity, moving too wildly, lasting too long, and growing too quickly to to be any mere sparks. Still higher they went, leaping from his hand and up along the sword, up to the very tip as steel met bone.

There was a flash of red accompanied by a roaring sort of blast as that strange energy suddenly grew exponentially, crackling through the entirety of the monster's form. At the point of contact there was an explosion that shattered the middle skull in its entirety, and sent the thing tumbling back on its own body even as Cyril's sword shattered in his hand, miraculously none of the fragments turning upon him. Everywhere where one part of it met another, such as when its higher torso collapsed upon the lower one or its arm fell back against a leg, there was another explosion, and soon the entire creature was crumbling in on itself as broken, massive shards of bone were sent flying dangerously in all directions.

Its collapsing body sent long fragile columns tumbling, the walls around them beginning to crumble as well, crushing anything unfortunate enough to be beneath.

As Gartian yelled something that couldn't quite be called words, the Direwolf reached the Prince while Joachim had been sent diving to avoid the initial destruction. Despite not being hit with any metal or bone, the Prince gave an agonized roar as pain shot through his body, his hands coming up to his own head. The Direwolf's hand reached out to grab the Prince's shoulder, but as soon as he made contact another red spark leapt from the Prince onto his hand. His eyes widened in surprise as he watched the metal of the gauntlet begin to be eaten away, and he cast off the piece of armor quickly to avoid suffering anything similar as well.

When he saw no more sparks he finally grabbed the Prince, and as he did so there was another clamor from what was left of the entrance. Suddenly horses surged into view, and with them one much larger than the rest; upon it rode Kisarin, and with his massive blade raised he directed towards the way he came.

"QUICK, SENTINELS, ALL OF YOU! THE GAP IS GOING TO CLOSE SOON, WE DON'T HAVE TIME!"

Without the slightest bit of hesitation and despite all the resistance Cyril gave him, the thrashing and screaming, Alsius dragged the Prince towards the empty horses that had been brought along by the Guratans for them all. He practically threw the Prince onto the horse, and when Cyril attempted to get back to the ground the Direwolf ruthlessly punched him, sending his world sideways. So disoriented was Cyril he wasn't quite aware of what was going on as everyone mounted up, and fled from the temple even as Gartian continued to rant and rave, and the Advisor just turned away, holding her own hand to herself. He had recovered only slightly as they shot through a battle, the Guratan army having fought their way so deeply into H'kela that they had placed their line near the temple, and had prepared themselves to break through for the Sentinels at the time of the execution. It was through this hole in the H'kelan main army that was kept open by the Guratans that they rode through, and continued on past the battle entirely.

For three hours they rode before they reached the Guratan camp, and once there everything came to a stop. The Guratans, normally a merry if boisterous people, went strangely quiet when they saw the returning crowd. Gazes were downcast in their ranks, faces pale and stony for some, flushed with tears for others, but the Sentinels brought with them an unusual aura of despair and failure.

Cyril, in a way, personified this. His head was the furthest lowered, and his expression strangely void of emotion as he rode, and still so as he began to dismount. His steps were slow, uneven, and uncertain, and he began to almost stagger away without saying a word to anyone. Those that had gathered as they came to a stop just simply stepped aside for him, all except one... Who ran into his arms, and was as chipper as could be.

"Cyril! You're back! I'm so glad, I was so worried you had gotten hurt! Are any of you hurt? How bad was it? Can Diane fix it? Where's Kori at, I want to speak to her too-!"

Even as Ayano babbled away, Cyril remained quiet, and she very quickly realized something was wrong. Slowly she pulled away slightly, her hands gripping at the bend of his arms tightly. "Cyril...? Where's Kori...?"

Cyril did not answer.

The Princess' lip began to tremble, and then the bandages of her eyes began to rapidly dampen as the tremble went through her entire body. Her hands came up, and she began bringing her fists against his chest, even as she began to scream. "No! NO! YOU SAID YOU'D BRING HER BACK! YOU SAID YOU'D BRING HER BACK, BRING HER BACK, BRING HER BACK-!" And then she was pulling away, charging off in a random direct, not caring even as she sent some packs tumbling and sent a pot crashing over. Quickly, Diane went after her, rushing as fast as she could.

Cyril, meanwhile, only looked forward, before he began to walk once again. He had no destination in mind, only to head deeper into the camp.
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Them Done Horrid Murder on Bloody Stages

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