Tuujaimaa

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia felt the familiar singing of her blade's power ripping apart steel, saw the momentary glimpse of the cosmos' inexhaustible light, and still could not get through the chain cleanly. "Just break!" she screamed out, frustrated with its futile resistance, before the sudden flurry of motion from the others and the Darkbeast demanded her focus once more. She caught the Darkbeast rearing up to jump in the air, its limbs twisting in ways that its eerie form and propensity for regeneration alone must've allowed, and quickstepped instinctively as far as she could back towards the entrance, though at a 45 degree angle to her right to avoid the Lightbeast and give her sufficient time to quickstep again--this time directly towards the other end of the room, albeit adjusting for anything that might get in the way. Quickstepping twice in succession was not good for Ophelia's limited stamina, however, and as much as she wanted to press the attack and finally break the chain so the damage they dealt to the Darkbeast would stick... she would need to catch her breath.

She began a light jog over to where the almost-broken link of chain was, keeping an eye out for the Darkbeast's movements, and keeping tabs on everyone else too: she hoped that it'd just go for one of the others, that the redirection of its ire to her was momentary, but she knew that it most definitely might not be--and if the Darkbeast came for her immediately again, she'd begin her evasive manoeuvres once more and shout out to one of the others to break the chain at its weakest link--Farren or Torquil, at least, whomever was closer.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia felt the fury of the explosion behind her, could taste it in the air and through her nose and in her ears--but she, mercifully, seemed far enough away to have escaped unscathed. She was beginning to get a bit of an appreciation for what Torquil meant--how the surprise of it all, the suddenness of the feeling, and the exhilaration of the Old Blood slowing into nothingness for the first time could linger in one's mind like a malignant shard. Ophelia wouldn't choose to be subjected to the feeling again, but... it was only pain--and pain she had dealt with for as long as she could remember. It would pass and she would remain--knowing that got her through those white-hot moments of agony.

She stopped to actually catch her breath for a few seconds, letting the fatigue flow out of her a little before it built to dangerous levels of exhaustion that would no doubt get her killed. She could sense again that same vulnerability as before in the beast, and the Old Blood within her coursed its base and frenzied vigour into her veins and her mind--she longed to take advantage of it, to once again engage that sense of primal superiority... but there was no way she'd get there before the beast roused itself again. She did, however, spy an opportunity to once again damage the massive steel chain that she'd attempted before and moved towards that objective. She looked over the chain quickly--most of it was pretty close to her, though the link she wanted was further down towards the beast. She took the two seconds to walk at a reasonable pace, winding up the Holy Moonlight Sword and feeding it a quicksilver bullet as she did, before driving the tip into the chain link she'd struck before again. If she could spare them all another of those explosions by cutting off its source of power, they'd all be safer... and it had frustrated her immensely to not succeed earlier--and this lump of metal was as good an outlet as any.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Upon successfully executing her slash, Ophelia noted the sounds of her companions following up and the darkbeast digging its claws down into the ground... but it was somewhat distant, as though the shock of the blow she'd just endured had lingered within her and deafened her somewhat. She still didn't feel altogether there, but she immediately knew that her first instinct was to get out from underneath this beast as the blue glow in the air intensified to the point that Ophelia was certain she could taste it--or her own blood, quite possibly. She evaluated her options in the moment: she might be able to retreat enough to get away from a blast of electricity, or not, depending on the size. She might be able to interrupt it, if she could get to its head... but that seemed desperately uncertain--it'd take most of her stamina just to get there, never mind to make a swing with enough force, enough accuracy, and in time...

She opted for the safer option, making an opportunistic second slash against the beast as she reversed her direction and began running up towards the corner of the gatehouse she'd begun the fight in. She quickstepped a full five meters after clearing the immediate distance from the beast and regaining some of her sense of space and continued running before eventually coming to a stop at eight meters away. She checked then to see if the beast had moved at all: if it hadn't, she fed another quicksilver bullet to her sword and swung it down in a slicing arc to release a blast of scouring energy towards the same wound place she'd been striking previously, and remained ready to hop back even further to avoid the darkbeast's reply.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia felt the radiance of her blade unleash, and prepared to observe her triumph made manifest in reality--only to look down and see the chain had thoroughly resisted her attempt to destroy it. She looked up to observe the state of the battlefield, though between the size of the Lightbeast in front of her and the Darkbeast towering over Farren she couldn't glean much. She heard Gerlinde's laugh and rush of movement, felt the swell of power as she fed a quicksilver bullet to her own implement, and heard the telltale crackling of roaring flame. She prepared herself to make another strike, to go for the exposed hindlegs, only for the sound of thunder and a voltaic explosion near Farren to whip through the metal chain and crawl up her sword into her body. She yanked it out of the chain by reflex alone, though not nearly quickly enough to avoid the surging arc of energy that thrummed into her.

It felt like light and fire all at once, lancing through every aspect of her flesh, and she shrieked in an agony that would thoroughly resonate with the suffering present in the ever-stifling Nightmare. The regenerative potential within her seemed to churn and flicker to life as soon as the damage happened, and she felt her wounds being restored as quickly as they'd been made--leaving only that searing sensation of pain to mark that it had ever happened at all. Flecks of her hair had slightly caught alight, the bright blue sparks of electricity gleaming violently against the silvery-white, and her braid was suddenly pockmarked with flecks of blackened ash. She had to take a few seconds to gather herself from the shock, her limbs momentarily not obeying her commands to them, before she used her right hand to fish a blood vial from her pouch, leaving four, and immediately jabbing it into her thigh.

Thus renewed she waited to see how the battlefield had developed in those seconds she'd spent recovering, and would make an assessment on how best to strike from there: if the others had successfully occupied its attention, she'd rush in towards the darkbeast's exposed right hind leg and aim to slice the sword between the mass of atrophied flesh, fused bone, and rotting sinew with her glorious blade's light--potentially with a quicksilver bullet to launch an arc of energy into it too--just like Ludwig had done in the memory.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia's own reaction to the monstrosity entering the arena was as calm as Farren's, though she had none of those underlying physical sensations detracting from her focus. She was filled with the absolute certainty that they would win, beyond a shadow of doubt, if not in this fight then in the next. This translated as a keen readiness to strike, blade held with both hands ready to be brought down overhead--but it was a different opportunity to Farren's that Ophelia saw. The little motes of guidance showed a connection between the darkbeast and the lightbeast chained in front of them--and Ophelia had spent enough time staring at those chains to know which of them connected to the hulking monstrosity. When she saw the little sparks of blue lightning beginning to build up and crackle between the fine fibres of hair, she made the decision to strike it nearly instantly.

The massive chain had fairly sizeable links, certainly big enough for Ophelia to get the tip of her blade within one. She quickstepped towards the beast in the centre and immediately looked for her prize in the chain connected more closely to the lightbeast. When she found one far enough away that she wasn't worried about hurting the lightbeast or herself she applied a quicksilver bullet to the reified light of the Holy Moonlight Sword and waited for the telltale ululation of building power before she stuck the point of the blade into the centre of one of the chain links, using the motion of her dash to angle the tip of the blade down and bring both it and the chain into contact with the ground where the explosion would soon occur.

She'd then assess the situation again visually, depending on the results of Farren's strike and what both Gerlinde and Torquil did--but her stance remained low and she would, in the absence of any particular growing danger, be looking for a particular weak spot near one of the darkbeast's joints--most likely in its rear legs--to potentially disable it for long enough for her allies to get some strong hits in.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia followed the movement of the chain with her eyes, quickly leaving the beast to its consignment--when she realised what was happening, that something was being brought closer to them.

"Look, the chain... it's getting more slack. I'd say something is headed our way, loves, the promised batch of followers Gerlinde prophesied not too long ago? Perhaps we should get in position and ambush them, take them out with the element of surprise. We should also observe how the mechanisms work--even if we die, that'll be useful to know for next time. Let's hope we get through unscathed, but, you know..." Ophelia observed, looking immediately to Farren and waving her Evelyn-wielding hand at him to draw his eye to the chain.

She then put the gun away, hefting the Holy Moonlight Sword with two hands to best wield its radiance and ensuring that her chamber of quicksilver bullets was close by--she wanted to show off a little, and make them each aware of the presence of glory they stood in. To bring that glory to their enemies, to awaken them from their path of folly and usher in a new age of light. Or something far less grand, but Ophelia's mind was moved to grand fantasies as she made herself ready and looked to see where the others wanted to go before she decided on optimal positioning.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"No... you are lost to her light. Well, loves, I can see the flow of power from this beast up towards the wall and down to the alcove. It's... powering something, chained and impaled here--the illusion on the wall outside, yes, but more. Further in. I don't know how wise it is to make so irreversible a decision, when we don't know where this power is flowing yet. What do you think?" Ophelia asked, turning to face the group, though she kept the beast in enough of her periphery to be able to react suddenly. When the chains jostled she looked about the beast curiously, wondering where the movement could be coming from--was it making a conscious effort, or were there tremors in the ground, or a sudden gust? She didn't know what to expect, so remained open to every possibility.

"Life contains power; the traces of power we find most commonly are parts of things with a touch of Nightmare about them, because whatever bore them had some affinity for the energies of worlds beyond. To maintain an effect of this scope... it makes sense one would require something powerfully connected to the Nightmare, no?" Ophelia mused in response to Gerlinde's question, and again turned her gaze to the beast and addressed it, withdrawing the Holy Moonlight Sword as she did.

"Would you like me to put you out of your misery, dear? I will end your suffering if that is what you want."

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia almost staggered in awe at the scale of the illusion, immediately looking around the location of the illusion from past the strange threshold that they passed over. She knew it was possible, of course, to layer things beneath gossamer sheets of Nightmare to hide them from those whose eyes were insufficient... but something of this scale? She'd not suspected a thing--it was truly only Mother Moon's light and her blade's cosmic power that had availed her of the illusion... and she wondered who could possibly have created such a thing. Naira? If that was true, her grasp of things had accelerated at a rate Ophelia balked at the idea of... but they knew that long-lost Great Ones had become active suddenly, and if what Harold said was true, they were trying to beckon one into the Waking World here. Perhaps it was something to do with them? A Great One's work seemed much more likely than a mere mortal having this kind of affinity with the Arcane... though her awareness had expanded recently, and she knew that beings like herself and Gerlinde existed. One would need access to something like the Doll, or... or perhaps with enough minds' study and enough sacrifice mortals could create things like this.

"What an exceptional weaving of the Nightmare... The Witches taught me to shelter objects of importance in layers of silk-soft Nightmare, to cloud them from the eyes of the unseeing, but this is on another level. What incredible works they are capable of here... Gosh, we'll have to learn how they did this before we resort to murder. I'd love to know..." Ophelia sighed breathily, clearly most overtaken by awe of the craftsmanship of what she was observing. She followed the glimmering moon-motes next, seeing them siphoned from the bound beast along chains and up to the various other bits of architecture--a wooden beam, clearly for maintaining the illusion of the wall... and then again to the Gatehouse at the end of the alcove that they'd found themselves into.

She found herself oddly drawn to the beast, though its uncanny look of being almost-human elicited in her a strange sympathy rather than her usual antagonism towards beasts. She could imagine a person transforming into something reprehensible like Izzy had, of course, but she could also imagine its inverse: one who did not want to become a beast, and resisted it as best as they could. While she would mercilessly put down practically anything that gave into the base and savage nature of truly embraced beasthood, something that resisted... Well, to them she would offer aid. She walked towards the creature, its eyeless face shifted in her general direction, and she approached it until she was a little less than the length of the Holy Moonlight Sword away from it. She hefted the blade very gently towards the beast such that the glimmering light could illuminate its stark and sparse fur, hovering just above its snout, though held very delicately. It could not see, of course, but Ophelia did not emanate any desire to do the beast harm--she did not know if it could sense such a thing at all, but here where the Nightmare was close she thought perhaps her sympathy might be felt on a level beyond the norm.

"You with no eyes to see... I wonder, can you see them? The motes. The guidance. Can you see her, shining there in the dark?" Ophelia whispered, hoping to offer the best some semblance of the comfort she knew in the dark. Mother Moon's light was always there, playfully dancing, revealing truths and the path to glory. After the profound agony she'd felt in the Nightmare here earlier with the Dream rune... she did not want to add to that song, but weave a new one. One of understanding and illumination under the gentle embrace of the Moon, an age of light that could reveal as well as hide... and every song that had ever been made was composed of individual notes like this one. If the beast acted aggressively towards her at all she would suddenly take a very different attitude, of course, but for now it had her sympathy.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Deo’Irah

Along their journey Deo’Irah had found it prudent to gather any high-quality sticks or other bits of foliage that they could craft a temporary body out of, aided by Lhirin and his particular eye for detail. By the time they’d reached the point where they had to be particularly careful about the noise they were making they’d gathered enough to cobble together a body that would serve well-enough to summon Kinder into, to provide them with some sort of mobile aid in the event of emergency. Of the two angels to allow communion with other beings, Kinder was definitely the correct choice–Lhirin might have remembered Weriz, from when the pair had overcome their worst fears, but probably less as a distinct personality and more as the being that had served as their tormentor. Irah remembered the occasion fairly fondly, all things considered, for it had been a religious pilgrimage in service to the god Weriz was sworn to… but still faintly shuddered to herself at the memory of that harrowing experience nevertheless. She wondered idly what Freagon’s experience with overcoming a Swaigh’s aura was like.

When Caleb asked for the name, she silently pulled her spellbook from somewhere on her person, opened it to the right page for Kinder, and passed it to him to read. They’d already assembled much of the scarecrow-like structure that would serve as the vessel for Kinder, and they’d already discussed that she’d serve as the vessel for Weriz–not many words needed to pass between them. Still, Irah looked at Caleb with some mixture of hope and disappointment (though in herself rather than him), and thought silently to herself that she was grateful for what he was doing, knowing he’d pick the gist of it up.

Almost by instinct as soon as one of her hands was free she turned her head to look behind her and find where Lhirin was, and as soon as she located him she rested her hand on some part of him–likely an arm–and gave him a slightly too-gentle squeeze. He’d have enough experience to know that she was… not nervous, but unsettled. Seeking surety and comfort in a way that he seemed uniquely suited to provide for her.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"A little to the left, love, just... there!" Ophelia called out as Gerlinde missed the mark, grinning broadly as she witnessed the cane pass through the mass of sprites--they were so dense she couldn't really even see the wall. Ophelia beckoned quickly for Farren and Torquil to come through with her right hand, gripping the Evelyn in the way Farren had taught her.

"Indeed, love. I think if you stick with Dream, and I with Guidance, we'll be set! I'm glad to have earned a nickname, love, but... I can't for the life of me think of something good for 'Gerlinde'! Maybe something will come to me spontaneously..." Ophelia opined, with a look on her face that very much suggested she would struggle more deeply with coming up with a nickname than fighting every Amygdala in the area simultaneously. She then followed Gerlinde up to the section of wall, stood directly in front of it, and beckoned to Torquil and Farren behind her again so they'd find exactly the correct bit. Once she was confident they were close enough, she stepped through herself and prepared to observe her surroundings with extreme scrutiny.