Purging Eidolon [10/28]

[16:13] {NARRATION} Rot.

On the edges of Eidolon's ruin begins the taint akin to plague. Withering grass lands, decaying flora, and animal carcass all lie scattered within this domain. For as far as the eye can see, death and pestilence runs amuck. With every gust of wind, the smell ruin tickles your nose.

Occasionally, one may see transparent figures flicker into existence, and on the border of the horizon? Those with gifted eyes sight may peer at the creatures left behind by Eidolon's destruction.

Beasts of Plague.

Should one wish to purge this realm of filth, they best be prepared for an arduous journey.



[16:17] It wasn't an exceedingly long journey that saw them to Eidolon, nor was it particularly eventful. Anything of that sort would have to wait for them to reach the accursed place - and it fair beckoned them once they reached it. Standing at the precipice, the astrologian's brows narrowed. This was a project long in the making; he took exception to the star from the first, but now he had to work with the fallout of its explosion.

He and the trusty assemblage of Crafthold personnel, including Ohtli, Zoldak, Morrana, and the currently-dwelling Eiphraem. Hopefully he'd show up soon. Hopefully he'd show up and do something totally badass to save them from a bind in the nick of time. "...We're here." As if the statement wasn't obvious enough as it was; Windsor's nose wrinkled, picking up the stench of the rot from where he stood.

They were standing at the edge of the crater, now, and were looking plain at the abyss.

"If any of you have any reservations, any desire to turn back, now'd be a good time to do that. I wouldn't blame you in the least." He unpacked his astrolabe, folded his arms across his chest, and kicked off the ground, hovering. His globe screeched momentarily, taking apparent exception to the very existence of this place.

"If not, then get ready. We might not leave this place the same as we came in."
(Windsor)
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[16:18] She could've sword she could see a gay fish in the ruins... Good thing Leland wasn't here.

Morrana's eyes scanned across the plague-ridden landscape, scythe-like staff in hand. "So, what exactly *is* the plan, Windsor?" She asked, clearly ignoring his warning to turn back if they weren't sure, and blah-blah-blah.

Anti-magic burned at the plagued edges, as if daring it to try and encroach on her. Given her innate abilities to convert magic into life for herself... She thought for a moment.

Maybe she shouldn't try to drink everything she saw. "This is too much land to cleanse with just the four of us."
(Morrana Coza)
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[16:23] Until Eiphraem manages to catch up, Zoldak is currently the oldest and most experienced magi in the group. But, rather than taking charge on a mission he had been asked to go on last minute, he decides to simply stay back and look over the rest. The role of the ever-watchful uncle.

He does, however, impart what should be some rather obvious advice, artificial words emanating from his vibrating mask of burnished metal.

"Eyes peeled. Watch where you step. Don't do anything stupid."

Strangely enough, even while surrounded by rot and foul energies, he starts to loosen his clothing. His coat is unbuttoned, his neckerchief undone, and his gloves removed. As he does this, the air surrounding him starts to become inundated with pure mana, the substance forming a shield around him that seems to push occultic energy away from him from the sheer output alone.

Now revealed, however, are a large, jagged scar along his neck, unnaturally pale hands with bright blue veins, and in the dark recess under his coat... The shapes of shifting, coiling serpents. They look a little barky and leafy, however. Oh wait, they're probably just vines. A weird sight, to be certain.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[16:23] For years upon years Ohtli has prepared for this. Maybe even close to a decade now. The passage of time is a strange thing. She's attuned herself to something greater, given service and worship to the Serpent, and even researched what she could scrounge about the edges of this corrupted wasteland. And now the Drakan, along with the others, marches forth to heal the wound.

Armored and brought to bear, decorated with sigils across her breastplate and a satchel of medicines and ritual objects slung over her shoulder, the Drakan remains wary. Ohtli sees the faint outlines through the desiccated trees, but more-so she feels them, just as she can feel that latent sickness oozing out of the land. If she'd studied it less or been less adjusted to that exact feeling it might've turned her stomach more violently.

That isn't to say she's sickened by the sight and sensation of Eidolon-that-was.

The message Windsor offers is given heed, but there's no way it can be for her. A few more steps forward and she stands beside the astrologist. She draws her sword and looks down below into the rot and ruin.
(Ohtli)
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[16:31] Cofi falls out of Zoldak's coat, what the fuck.
(Cofi Slade)
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[16:31] Zoldak suddenly WHIPS his coat open the rest of the way.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[16:31] Windsor says, "I-- that's not technically a stowaway, since... yeah, alright, let's just keep going before my head starts to hurt.."
[16:31] Zoldak Lelhua says, "I smuggled Fool in. Sorry. She really wanted to come."
[16:32] Windsor says, "Understandable. Welcome 2 tha crew. I mean, welcome to the crew."
[16:32] Cofi silently whines off to the side about Alvi. Why wasn't she invited.
(Cofi Slade)
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[16:32] Windsor says, "Sorry we never got that interview hashed out."
[16:33] Ohtli says, "Hey. More the merrier."
[16:36] Eiphraem isn't TOO far behind them all.

Holding the lamp in his hand to keep a refraction through the fog, that surrounding argent flow.

Underneath the dire warning, as he slides up from the rear, a pungent, chemical smell pervades throughout the roiling mist. If they had three people on the mystical, ephemeral task of keeping the magical miasma-

Eiphraem was dedicated to the physical.

While the mist he called was no longer the rain-crisp, tender smell, the reek of rot, mold, fungi, and hateful death is purged in an acrid heady flow. While it not might be wholly pleasant, those present would have some protection from any unclean corpse rot.

His gills are slightly mucousy, in turn, breathing shallowly as he sings softly to himself. He's not wholly paying attention to those around them, as he brings up the rear- Maintaining focus on extending his wash of slightly tainted air to keep out anything worse.

And, perhaps, to disorient anything rushing them before a lack of concentration would dispel it. His silvery, polished scales undulate across the ground- Leaving water and dew clinging to dead, decaying debris in his wake.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[16:38] Windsor says, "Right, well... you wanted to hear the plan, right, Morrana? Examination's only brought us so far, but if there's anything I know about Brittania's history books, plagues are inextricably connected to corrupted stars. My suspiscion is that there's a lingering taint that's keeping it in effect. If we can find the source, we need to cleanse it. ...It sounds simpler than it is, I'll bet."
[16:38] Windsor says, "This is, after all, nothing if not plague-stricken land."
[16:43] Morrana Coza says, "Seems simple enough, yeah."
[16:44] Morrana Coza says, "I could probably do something to that source with my own magics too - besides cosmic."
[16:44] Zoldak Lelhua whispers something.
[16:45] {NARRATION} Several transparent figures fade in and out from existence, and on occasion? The cleanup crew see, or even feel a set of eyes looming over them. Despite the absolutely dreadful feeling that encroaches, there seems to be very little in terms of threats.

...until Eiphraem slithers alongside them.

Thick waves of physical corruption are purged in the naga's wake. Those within the vicinity of Zoldak could feel the purity radiating from his frame, and Ohtli? Her connection to the arcane leaves her capable of undoing the damage to the lifestream in a realm once full of chaos and sin...

Closer, and closer, the transparent figures creep. From see through humanoids, to dark shadowy silhouette They appear to change in size and shape on a whim, but it doesn't take a spiritmancer to know that they're coming.

Windsor might be onto something....
[16:49] Right. They were in the belly of the beast now, and they'd have to endeavor to ensure they didn't wind up in some beast's belly along the way. This was, to put it lightly, a dicey situation. Regardless, it didn't seem that anybody was willing to back down. Much as this might have heartened the man, the task still lay before them - and the monsters touched by the corruption were now on the warpath.

"The welcoming party's here. Keep your eyes sharp; watch for anything that might happen as we deal with them. If the touched monsters are connected to this plague, dispatching them might have a positive effect on purification." So he hoped, anyway. It was funny - that woman was furious at him for being ignorant about even the most basic facets of stars.

Here he was now, having studied them thoroughly to undo the celestial harm wrought by her efforts. If he didn't know any better, he'd figure she was actually the world's greatest teacher.

"Once we get deeper in, we'll have to inspect the ruins. Look for cursed artifacts, or anything that gives off that bad for the lifestream feeling." This wasn't a time to talk about their plans, though. Understanding that, Windsor steeled himself, seeing the creeping figures shift towards them.

His astrolabe shimmered with a gentle light as they approached, as if to dare them to come closer, threatening reprisals if they so chose to.
(Windsor)
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[16:57] Considering her own lessons... A cursed artifact didn't sound like a bad thing to snatch for herself. And it'd serve the purpose of dragging it away from this place. The scythe twirled, and nature bloomed in her path, life trailing the Neries.

"So, they're not happy with us." She said, a bland and unnecessary comment. The Arcanium blade of her weapon was slammed down into the ground like a spade, pouring her powerful anti-magics into it, aiming to purge the corruption in the immediate area with vacuum over purity. A place for her vines to sprout from.

Time flickered and whirred around her, and she smiled. "How many Sins were in this place, Windsor?" She asked, curious. "I wonder if we'll fight their spirits."
(Morrana Coza)
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[16:57] Not intellectually suited for this cleanup effort in the slightest, the jester's tired eyes only scan the shades and shadows. Her own shadow attempts to pull away, but Fool's feet are planted firmly in the ground. There's no fear or worry in her eyes, but rather a kind of longing. Until she's directed to kill something, odds are she'll just keep staring wistfully. She's looking for something, or... someone?

For the time being, she opted to stay almost uncomfortably close to Eiphraem. The Oscuri was as loyal and as clingy as ever, it'd seem. As the figures drew ever nearer, though, the clown gave a tiny little smile.

Welcoming party. 'Deal with them.' Purification.

Fingers hovering near the strings of her harp, Alvi, Cofi seemed to slowly realize that she was in her element. Oh boy - here she goes killing again.
(Cofi Slade)
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[16:57] It's easier to remain buoyant and optimistic when the Archon's magic clears the physical elements that encroached on their troop. Even better they've finally set out to do the good they'd long intended to do.

The situation is exciting and nerve-wracking all at once. She has to put effort into steadying a small tremor of her hand as the phantasms draw closer. That presence of calm and balance redoubles as she focuses on it more intensely.

There were wrongs to right, wounds to mend, and sins to atone for to return things to balance. If what Windsor said was right, and she had no doubt it was, it starts here with the shades of the corrupt that start to circle around them.

Ohtli readies her sword and steels herself, adding in a muttered prayer. Only good can come from cleansing the specters.
(Ohtli)
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[16:58] Zoldak withdraws a pistol from a side holster, holding the barrel upwards as he scans the surroundings. There are beasts and shades the lurk just out of their safe little bubble, sure. But no use riling them up. He'd rather wait until there is a clear and present danger before firing off any shots.

His attention is a bit divided, currently. The man attempts to keep careful watch over both his nieces and, of course, his patron. Morrana and Windsor are just side goals. And he's more than confident Cofi will find any sort of artifacts lying around. The party's safety came first and foremost for the merchant.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[16:59] "Windsor."

The harmonious hum of the serpent pauses- The cleansing flush of the air is briefly distracted, as he draws clean Fool's Cold from it's scabbard. The blackened bastard sword and it's icy, severed essence, drawing and holding.

There was a faint scarlet taint to it, a light hue and pallor caught within it.

"Trust in your bodyguards, please." It's spoken more softly than would be chiding, as the serpent's earfins perk forwards, the mist clutching. No need for him to call on his quicksilver- If it was the dead, they'd be no more slowed by that than gentle tickling.

Instead, water flushes and purses, the demon's essence preparing a more caustic surprise... Something he rarely utilized.

He was built to incapacitate, not kill.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[17:05] {NARRATION} Larger and large, the approaching shadows grow. From a few, to a dozen, to potentially hundreds swirling around them screeching and seething. In an attempt to get close, they're repelled, unable to break through the immense aroma.

Rage.

In an attempt to coax them, several images flash before their eyes. Iosefka kneeling before Tragedy. Stella berating Windsor for his lack of knowledge regarding the stars. Eiphraem? Forced to relive the moment where a mortal shoved itself upon his blade. A few images of Alvi in their final moments, slain by those loyal to sin. Rainbow fish?

Rainbow fish.

The spirits melt and congeal into massive abomination. It's scales shimmer a myriad of colors, holding each hue of the rainbow. Radiating corruption.

Radiating sin.


[17:05] Windsor says, "I--"
[17:12] It appeared that Morrana's question found its answer sooner than any of them thought. "Well, uh. I... We have our answer." He was taken aback by the final visage of their first foe - though the images of Stella chewing him out flashed through his mind brought him no small edge of grief. He holds onto his head, trying to shake off the notion, but it cows him. This was an angry soul with an angry heart, and they had to set it free.

That was as much as the man could ascertain. Still, the form it took... Windsor swiveled slowly in place, giving Zoldak a flat glance. He had heard the stories, but was the issue truly so sordid that this was the shape their first nemesis took? Somehow, he had a hard time doubting that at all.

The man must have truly faced genuine strife, brought at the hand (or fin) of this pugnacious pescatory predator. "Well, we're supposed to be ready for anything. Keep your wits about you." He looked over in Eiphraem's direction. "I do. That doesn't mean I can't be worried about you guys anyway."

Turning back to face the fish, Windsor furrowed his brow. "Right, then. Let's go." His astrolabe spun and twirled violently, its pace quickening in the presence of the radiation.
(Windsor)
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[17:17] While Ohtli strives to recognize a balance, this abomination is no representation of it. With the flashing images it makes itself known for what it is; an amalgamation of tortured souls, sin, corruption that now tries to further suffering even in its death throes.

Even worse? She looks over towards the astrologist and his own discomfort at the images. There are enough reasons already to lay the thing low. That's just the cherry on top.

As much as she might love to charge headlong towards it and do what she considers her duty, she waits. She waits until Windsor gives the word and, as soon as 'go' leaves his mouth, the Order magi shoves her hand forward toward the fish-specter.

Force is drawn into the center of her palm, condensed, then flung forward toward the foe in a gustless gale. That serrated sword of her is coming next.
(Ohtli)
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[17:17] "Well that's just uncalled for."

The rainbow fish is a bit played out at this point, the joke pretty old and worn. Dan literally mentions it any time seafood is involved. And he feels like others are likely thinking of such jokes as well. The image of Iosefka kneeling before Tragedy certainly gets to him, though. Shaking his head, the pistol is steadily raised toward the abomination-

But Zoldak holds his fire. He remains calm and composed. Maybe not as much as he usually is, but a big gay Wrath fish isn't exactly the stuff of his nightmares.

After all, his own death was never much of a big deal to him. Its something he has relished for the brief moment it was afford to him. And then he made a dumb promise upon being dragged back to the land of the living that he feels compelled to see through now.

Wait, why was he even thinking these thoughts.

Another shake of the head follows as his focus is trained on the ridiculous target before him.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[17:19] The serpent is not easily goaded into anger.

What a demon feels is not quite the same as what a human feels.

Not quite.

The image doesn't elicit anger. Not in a creature predisposed to flight rather than fight. When that image hits him, it's charged, certainly-

With apprehension. Disgust. Fear linked to something squirming far deeply- Skimming the top of Eiphraem's mind was a difficult business. His emotions were a layered, obfuscated mess, cobbled together out of analogies, and supplemented by-

Well.

Something special.

As the aged times flicker by, the serpent would need a very, very intense goad. Instead, the air about him fills with a wailing, white noise static, trying to assist others as much as he can. It's a psionic, telepathic buzz that drowns, subsumes, like playing louder over the radio.

The serpent SKIMS forwards on his blade. He's more one to strike from behind and from the shadows, but the amalgamation of regrets and fury is attempted to be peeled away from their most vulnerable.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[17:21] There was an uneasiness despite her cheery demeanor, one that grew as the images suddenly projected themselves upon her. The first, she recognized all too well, teeth gritting at them. Hands tightened uncomfortably around the haft of her scythe.

"Looks like we're not going anywhere until that is dealt with." She said, face twisting in a grimace. Her eyes stared at the sin-coated image, before she stepped forward, hating that it had brought these images again.

Anti-magic flared again, aimed directly for the amalgation of spirits - if that was even what it was.
(Morrana Coza)
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[17:25] Morrana Coza says, ":party hmm"
[17:49] {NARRATION} Despite it's form, the amalgamation of of impurities and sin proves to be a formidable foe. Flames fueled by passion manifest on the whim of this beast. It's hate is minuscule compared to the creatures most of them have faced; little in comparison to what Eiphraem raised, and put Zoldak down.

It latches on to the naga. Chasing down the slippery serpent, it's scrapes away at whatever memories it could find, anything to get some sort of reaction out of the one creatures fighting against the plaguelands physical corruption. Olander's visage, the death of Tragedy, Perseus impaled, anything and everything--

Until it's power begins to wane. The combined might of the archon, neries, order, stars, and....

Super magi...

Manage to quell the cretin.

In it's final moments, two spears of flame form within the nights sky, hardly visible above the thick miasma. Their targets? Windsor and Ohtli. Should one pay close attention to their surroundings, and wish to become a marty, now is the chance....
[18:00] Aside from a scare here or there, Zoldak had a rather simple time with the amalgamation of hate and torment and whatever else was mixed in there. Skating along weightlessly, the patches of deadly earth are deftly avoided as bolt after bolt of energy are released at the mass of corruption.

The thing seems to finally begin dissipating. With a satisfied buzz, his pistol is raised toward the sky once more, barrel red hot and muzzle leaking smoke. A feeling of satisfaction washes over him as the thing that bared the form of mostly his own memories began to vanish.

It may not have elicited rage or anger, but it certainly dredged up other negative emotions. Mostly embarrassment. There was a lot of embarrassment involved.

And then, he feels it. Streaking from above, forms of rapidly advancing mana descend from the haze. He has no idea what they are yet, but the man knows it can't be anything good. One of it's targets is identified. Ohtli. The woman who he called his niece.

Ah, fuck. Time to be a good uncle.

Speeding over to her, he quickly shoves the drakanite out of the way, fully prepared to take any pain that would have been meant for her.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[18:03] THOSE hit him a bit harder.

Olander's cold, barely restored face. That bleak, wrenching sensation in the snow as he could feel empty and dragged. The sizzle of holy energy firing off towards Perseus-

The last one makes his vision dance, going dizzy.

But those hit on anxiety. Misery. Fear. Terror, more than hatred. It bubbles and froths with helplessness, nausea, horror-

But, rage?

No. Even when he watched Lucilius' sword slice off Zoldak's neck, what drove the serpent forwards was not rage. He had a coward's heart, and it was raw, shrieking, adrenaline filled panic that drove him, filled him with the adrenaline to strike brutally true.

And so, as anger desperately tries to catch on pride, onto revenge, onto retribution-

The silver serpent darts away, backwards, out. He slips into the shadows of the tainted valley, pale as death, and slides back out to tear through an elegant, sliding flow, like a ray of moonlight dancing.

He knows where he can be. He knows where he should be. And, most importantly, he knows where he shouldn't be. Hailing blasts of starfire slam against him- Only to slip through, the demon's flesh rippling as it passes through him like water and ephemera. Ghostly chains and bindings slide off of his flesh-

His ties to his masters and subordinates were stronger.

and so, there it is-

Amidst the battlefield, the congealment's failure to harm the serpent as for a moment he stands tall, proud- Winded, but uninjured...

And battered by the images of death, he breathes in as it seems to dissipate, gazing upwards as shoulders threaten to slack.

Pupils tighten.

He SLAMS into the nearest one of the two- Ohtli was being covered. Windsor- Mist gathers and flows, and in a second, the serpent is slamming him out of the way with a smash of those powerful, mirrored coils. He grips Fool's Cold two handed, raising it.

His blackened sword SLICES out, trying to crack through the darkened fire. Water flushes out, hardening into a membranic shell. His breath coalesces. This wasn't some martyrdom.

He was going to FIGHT.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[18:04] The jester wanders back out of the plaguelands just in time to see the abomination's defeat - and catch a few choice glimpses of Alvi's death. Despite the rainbow-colored tears already welling in her eyes, she marches forward with her cloak billowing in the wind- wait. Wait, no, that's not wind. She's carefully manipulating gravity magic in the area around her cloak to give it the exact billowing qualities she wanted it to.

Ever the showman.

Her eyes lock onto the fire spears and she glances down to assess the targets. Ohtli and Windsor... her eyes narrow. They didn't invite her. They weren't Zoldak or Eiphraem. Zoldak, Eiphraem- her eyes snap to one, then the other, then back to Ohtli and Windsor. No, she had no intention of taking a hit for a Gehennan.

That leaves Windsor. He is the smart one here, but she takes her orders from Eiphraem, who she'd consider even smarter. The aging Oscuri, then, makes the decision to do...

...What Alvi would do.

The jester quite literally slides in, shoving Windsor off to the side with a liberal amount of gravity magic. She calls up a shield of pure darkness and, taking a cue from Eiphraem if she at all could, raises her left palm, darkness charging.

Yeah. She's going to try shooting that spear with a shadow cannon, or at least try to minimize the damage she's about to take.
(Cofi Slade)
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[18:06] Morrana seemed to be having a grand time battling against the gay fish, dodging around with a grin on her face. Choking spores of toxic spores screamed out to choke and melt away the thing of Rage and Sin while she slid on gliding quicksilver.

Cosmic magics coalesced, blasting out and screaming from the stars, until?

She saw the thing shoot out its death rattle towards Ohtli and Windsor, notably...

Not moving towards them at all, despite her chance to. She attempted to aid with what she could, the magics of conversion, but if it failed?

She had no intention of throwing herself in the way.
(Morrana Coza)
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[18:08] Everyone else is doing it so FUCK IT. Zoldak gathers every drop, ever iota of mana he has in his body and concentrates it into the small mana pistol in his hands. Aiming up at the ensuing doom, he releases the most powerful beam of energy he can possibly manage.

Worth a shot.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[18:09] "Ah, shit." He was fumbling throughout the fight - rust accumulated through years of inactivity were prominent enough to result in faltering during the battle. Though he couldn't relate to the visions of goading fury that Eiphraem was exposed to, he did his utmost to try and dispose of the beast as quickly as possible. Lamentably, he didn't do it swiftly enough - he was slow enough to watch a parting shot launched by the monstrosity.

A parting shot that was barreling right towards them. Eyes opening wide, he looks over in Ohtli's direction. She'd suffered enough already - there was no way he was going to suffer her to take on yet another blow, especially not on his behalf. As a matter of fact, he had no doubt in his mind that she was thinking the exact same thing as him.

Lamentably, it seemed that Zoldak, Cofi, and Eiphraem were quicker on the trigger, and acted on behalf of their respective targets. Still, seeing Zoldak act on the Drakanite's behalf spurred him onto acting. Time slowed near him - he could act, and he wasn't about to let the example shown by the three of them go to waste.

At the very least, he could help soften the blow. Seeing Zoldak try to take Ohtli's attack alone, Windsor fumbled out of the push, trying to weasel his way in.

Success was fleeting, if not outright impossible, but on a reflex alone he tried to launch a lone beam of cosmic energy to beat back the javelin of flame. ...Still, he was more than likely shoved away, made to watch as his allies took pain on his behalf.
(Windsor)
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[18:12] The images do not harm her, but they seem to cause anguish to those around her- and that, combined with a deep sense of duty, is enough to send her into action. Their combined efforts fell the beast of the lingering wrath that lay latent within the land.

It's a surge of victory that swells in her breast- then dread. Her attunement to the lifestream gives her a glimpse at what's to come only as it's descending down on her and Windsor.

She lifts her hand, preparing a concussive telekinetic blast to drive her partner out of the way; he was right. Ohtli's mind had gone the exact same direction as is. It might have helped, but Zoldak absolutely god-damn piledrives her out of the course of a bolt of flame that falls from the sky.

Her and the astrologist both have to inadvertently watch themselves deal pain to another. And of course that does -not- sit well with her.

From the ground where she was driven she does what she can. The telekinetic blast intended for Windsor, whom she ALSO sees safely taken from harms way, is pointed towards Zoldak and the spear of flame. If it can't divert the course of the fire, perhaps it can save him from the worst of its effects.
(Ohtli)
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[18:21] {NARRATION} It's a mess.

Morrana off to the side, could likely notice the forming of a strange substance. Half real, half ethereal. It's akin to some form of metal, something many in this crew have had their hands on before, at some point or another.

As the spirit watches on, in it's last moments, if it had a jaw that could drop? It most certainly would. Fading away into nothingness, the land around the edges of Eidolon begin to purge themselves of taint. Dark withered grass becomes green, born anew. Where corruption and death lingered, purity and life remains, and the pile of suicidal magi?

Eiphraem's attempt to fight the weakened flames proves to be fairly effective, saving a single companion from a massive spear of blackened fire. The blade cleaves, moisture sizzling leaving behind only steam, and Cofi?

There attempt to combat the flame with more magic?

A beam of condensed occult magi fires into the spear. It pieces through the beak of darkness, cleaving it in two, bisecting her canon completely. A small, weakened, sizzling fire crashes into her hands, covering them in blisters and burns. Melted flesh leaves behind bone exposed, making her far less useful for this venture.

(a big temp and unable to use a weapon until the injuries are remedied)

Windsor's attempts to save his companions are noble, but his crew is entirely too suicidal to let this occur.


[18:28] It's an absolute mess, is what it is. Everybody (sans the sensible Morrana) dives in the way of one another's peril in order to become the target of said peril. Eiphraem finds the wherewithal to use his powers to his advantage, and manages to find actual success in his attempt. The same cannot be said for Cofi; the man figured the jester wouldn't have done as she had, but here they were.

Staggering back up onto his feet, the astrologian manages to find his companions not so terribly worse for wear... again, barring the clown. "Wh-- We're gonna need some Lax Essence here, stat!" Anything to at least partially mitigate the debilitation that the injury no doubt caused. Eyes wide as dinner plates stared on at the pink-haired woman's wounds.

It seemed that among this particular group, a want for self-preservation was at a premium. Somehow, he should have expected as much. "...Shit. I--" He tries to find the words to address the group at large, eyes darting between each of them. What was he supposed to say? Berate them for interfering? Apologize them for not having been equal to the task?

No, he figured he could make it a lot more concise, and a lot more meaningful. Hanging his head, the initially hesitant man simply nods. "...Thanks."
(Windsor)
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[18:31] Morrana, ever looking for new and shiny things... Slowly moved forward to take the things that the rest were too busy to notice. If they asked about it while dealing with all the wounds...

She'd shrug and make something up. They were the ones stupid enough to leap in front of all the different magics like idiots!
(Morrana Coza)
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[18:32] "Fuck."

That was all the clown could manage as the flame overpowers her own magic, shattering her shield in the process. She's still smiling even as the fire strikes her hands, the final assault of the nightmare fish giving her the ol' spicy keychain and absolutely destroying her hands.

She hadn't felt this sort of pain in a long time. Losing her leg to Ikkaku thirty years ago - getting branded by Ka'vas - drinking Azrael's Tear - hell, this couldn't even compare.

...Is what she would like to say, but as she staggers back, falls into the grass, and stares at her hands, she begins... emitting something that sounds like a cross between piercing laughter and even more piercing shrieking.

She couldn't hear whatever Windsor just shouted, or whatever anyone else might say - she herself was too loud. And besides - it's what Alvi would have done. The 'right thing.' Or... something. Yes, that's what she'd tell herself. Habitually, her left hand moves to wrap around the harp named after her favorite dead trap necromancer, and this only... aggrevates her new injury.

Fuck.
(Cofi Slade)
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[18:32] Zoldak completely misses the mark, his beam flying off into the air. Luckily, Cofi has it. She gets her mitts all burnt up, but the jester has certainly had worse. Meanwhile Zoldak goes skidding across the ground after Ohtli is pushed every which way imaginable.

He pretty much did nothing useful, and was completely cucked out of his martyrdom.

Pushing himself to his feet, he brushes off corrupted dirt and detritus from his coat. He's feeling pretty foolish. First the embarrassment that was the amalgamation's form, and now this.

He kind of just wants to go home at this point and crawl into bed. Whatever, onward he goes. The pistol is reholstered and his shoulders slump as he goes over to likely watch someone else take care of the jester, such is his luck.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[18:32] Morrana Coza exclaims, "I do not carry potions!"
[18:32] Morrana Coza says, "I could give her a nature wrap."
[18:32] The next few second past in haze that can only be described as a disorganized clusterfuck.

On the bright side? No one is dead, the injuries are relatively few, and the terrain around them starts to take on new life again. All in all their fate could've been far worse.

She's only given a few seconds to stew in a pang of impotence-fueled regret. Ohtli looks to Zoldak, gives him a nod of gratitude, then comes to the call for Lax essence.

If she can't keep people from getting fried to crispy bits she can at least exercise her blessed preparedness. From her satchel of goodies she produces a jar of lax essence and hurries towards the injured jester.

Thanks and apologies could come later. Right now her job was to assist where she could. As Cofi screams she tries to smear some of the calming, healing ointment onto her hands.

"Easy...easy..."

Maybe that Order-given aura of calm that wafts off of her can do something,however small, to ease the pain too. It's a small, dim hope.
(Ohtli)
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[18:33] {Item} You drop Lax Essence.
[18:35] The chill of the cold iron TEARS through the remnants of the flame, weakened by the onsurge of powerful, thrumming water coalesced from the rot of the half-dead flora unable to accept life or water leading to the stagnant doldrum of decay-

Leaving behind, a soft, vibrant sparkling flutter of hopeless embers trailing away in the aftermath.

The demon pants, audibly, his eyes almost entirely black from the rising focus of striking. Slowly, his pupils return to a more normal side, the bite of the tyrium blade nipping at his hand like an ungrateful beast once more.

He sheathes it in this momentary reprieve, his head WHIPPING towards the screams. Regeneratives-

His hands fumble, almost inelegantly as his left hand spasms faintly. He winces at it's lack of proper cohesion, as he struggles to open his satchel f-

C...

Codcakes?

When did he stuff those in th-

He rummages.

...

no he made a mistake-

He had forgotten to swap out what he had from Leland.

Ohtli, spared in spite of her attempts to shove Zoldak away, was on it.

His shoulders slump a bit, as he tries humming and softly singing a few bars again, getting his nerves back.

It was unpleasant, after all of those relived moments.

(Eiphraem Kang)
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[18:36] Cofi Slade says, "Uwee...heehee... heeeeee..."
[18:36] Ohtli says, "Shhh...It's alright."
[18:37] Zoldak Lelhua whispers: A question.
[18:37] Windsor whispers: ...Yeah, might as well.
[18:37] Zoldak Lelhua whispers: Why did you bring Morrana along.
[18:37] Cofi Slade says, "I'd stick my thumb into these new holes but both of my thumbs are /ruined/, this is- ow ow owowow- the worst."
[18:38] Windsor whispers: I figured she could help. She was nothing if not eager, and Iosefka was apparently fine enough to sign off on it.
[18:38] Ohtli says, "It'll get better. Just don't fuss with it and let the salve do its work."
[18:38] Ohtli whispers: ...Do you think she'll be an issue, Zoldak?
[18:38] Zoldak Lelhua says, "Hang in there, niece. You'll be better in a moment."
[18:38] Cofi Slade says, "Can't even hold a weapon like this. Ain't down for the count yet, though, no no, no-"
[18:38] Zoldak quite insentively gives Cofi two thumbs-up.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[18:38] Ohtli says, "Do you want me to help you up?.."
[18:38] Cofi fires off a rainbow-colored cosmic beam at Zoldak from her position on the ground. It misses completely, and her hands hurt even more now. Unamused.
(Cofi Slade)
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[18:38] Ohtli says, "-Please don't do that. Just...Just let the salve work."
[18:38] Ohtli sighs and tries to loop her arm behind Cofi and help her to stand up.
(Ohtli)
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[18:39] Zoldak Lelhua says, "I should have said something about holding on and that'd we'd give you a hand. The moment has passed."
[18:39] Windsor says, "...Right, yeah. When everybody's ready, we can move on. It looks like purging the monsters does a lot to purge the corruption, but..."
[18:40] Cofi Slade says, "...This salve stuff is really handy."
[18:40] Zoldak Lelhua says, "That's what I'm talking about."
[18:40] Cofi Slade says, "Pff. Uweeheehee."
[18:40] Ohtli says, "I'm glad it's helping."
[18:40] Ohtli says, "--Oh...It was a joke..."
[18:40] Cofi Slade says, "Gotta hand it to you, I'm glad you had it /on hand/."
[18:40] Cofi Slade whispers: When I get home I'm gnawing these hands off and putting sweet mecha-oscuri hands on in their place.
[18:41] Eiphraem gently places a massive mitt on top of Cofi's head.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[18:41] Zoldak Lelhua whispers: Hel yeah.
[18:41] Eiphraem Kang whispers: No biting your hands off.
[18:41] Ohtli whispers: Is...Is that wise?
[18:41] Cofi Slade whispers: Not even a little?
[18:41] Eiphraem Kang whispers: Get augmentatory gloves.
[18:41] Eiphraem Kang whispers: Flesh is worthwhile.
[18:41] Eiphraem Kang whispers: Power gloves, Cofi.
[18:41] Cofi Slade whispers: They'd make me feel pretty bad, yeah. I can get behind that.
[18:42] Cofi Slade whispers: I love power gloves.
[18:42] Eiphraem ruffles her hair, quietly, humming gently at her, approvingly as the painkillers and ointment brewed by Ohtli kick in...
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[18:42] Ohtli asks, "Zoldak. Windy. Eiphraem. Morrana. Everyone's alright?"
[18:43] Eiphraem Kang says, "Perfectly functional. Winded."
[18:44] Windsor says, "Yeah. I'm fine."
[18:44] Zoldak Lelhua says, "Fine. Whatever."
[18:44] Ohtli says, "Good...Good."
[18:44] Ohtli says, "Thank you, Zoldak."
[18:44] Ohtli says, "And Eiphraem and...everyone."
[18:44] Morrana Coza says, "i'm perfect."
[18:45] {NARRATION} There are many ways to combat the flame of magi, and a few chose to exert their power over the will of the spirits.

From the center of the plague lands, and stream of azure light bursts. Luminous and radiant, once could see it reaching, spiraling towards the heavens even from the edge of corruption.

Ohtli? She could feel something sickening, tearing apart the lifestream. They could see several transparent figures dash towards the light, vanishing once they're within a one-hundred yard radius of the light.

Something is brewing.
[18:45] Cofi Slade whispers something.
[18:48] The visuals are certainly there. Something ominous up ahead, casting light outward from the center of the tormented landscape. That alone is enough of a red-flag.

The feeling it brings with it is just an even brighter, larger flag. It makes her naturally tan skin pale, her blood run cold, and her viscera do some acrobatics they most certainly should -not- be doing.

"...There. I don't know what that is. I don't know what it's doing. But that's what we need to stop."
(Ohtli)
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[18:50] Accepting Ohtli's help, the jester clicked her heels together and breaks the chains of gravity once she's back on her feet. She reached for her cloak to tear a bit off and fashion it into bandages, but the second bone touches cloth she recoils. There are some things painkillers can't quite fix.

Still, as promised, she isn't down for the count: clicking her tongue in place of snapping her fingers, her rieka lines flare to life, glowing a bright green even in her mangled hands that she's elected to allow to hang limply at her sides.

No weapon? Scalded hands? The odd sensation of a salve she'd never used before?

Nothing was stopping her - and so she sticks close to Eiphraem, prepared to throw herself into whatever's about to happen at a moment's notice. No more wandering off into the plaguelands this time.
(Cofi Slade)
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[18:50] Zoldak gives his signature finger snap and points at the coiling pillar of light. He states the obvious, already following behind Ohtli.

"That seems like the next obvious place to check."

A glance and a nod are given towards Cofi. It sure feels nice to be going on stupid, suicidal adventures with her again. They're both so old now.
(Zoldak Lelhua)
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[18:51] "I think we've found our Source," muttered Windsor, having finally caught his breath after their most recent strenuations. "Like the stars usually tend to be, this sign here's nothing if not... well, conspicuous." he wipes the sweat off his brow and cracks his knuckles, mentally preparing himself for whatever monstrosities they'd have to face down next. More spirits of sin and past iniquity, he anticipated.

"Running headlong into it like those shades are probably isn't the best solution. If I had to make an uneducated guess, all these figures are either victims of the star's explosion or souls that weren't quite liberated from its destruction. Either way..." He frowned. "It's the only lead we have to go on.

"So... let's go." Eyes forward. They had their priorities ahead of them. It was time to raise their shields against still more phantasmal marauders. Windsor drew out his astrolabe once more, kicking off the ground again. He beseeches the stars for aid and succor - and most importantly, any information they might be able to provide him on what was happening just before him.
(Windsor)
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[18:52] The demon SPINS on his waist.

His scales SLIDE along the dirt, whipping around with all the grace and motion of his element towards the light in an instant. His jaw clenches. Water clings to his coat in higher intensity, his hair utterly drenched as he calls his power to him to gird himself.

"Understood," He holds his weapon crossways, two handing it- He didn't need to grapple against creatures like this. No point- No touch. Strike, disengage, strike.

He leads the way, a silvery, shimmering blur. Purified, chemically treaty mistake, stinging the tongue is left in his wake, a glittery carpet of dew. With Cofi right at his flank, he's on the way to assess the threat and take point unless stopped.

A push of static and telepathy ripples out towards it, an empty, sonar echo to see what sapient minds he hits with it.

Another floats backwards-

Windsor. Tell me if I need to stop. Warn me if I am headed into something I cannot see or detect. Ohtli may be able to spot something I cannot.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[18:56] "So, how exactly are we stopping that?" She asked, curious as she stepped towards it. Her eyes narrowed, steel-colored hues staring. "Cosmic magic to disrupt the ritual? And, what? I can negate it completely with my magic." She started walking ahead, letting the scythe lead.

Morrana pushed ahead, following behind Eiphraem on her own trail of liquid mercury. It wasn't purifying, it was corrosive and toxic, but it melted away to nothing as she left its vicinity.

"I guess it doesn't particularly matter." She muttered.
(Morrana Coza)
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[18:57] Eiphraem takes point, the others follow suit. She's no exception. And, being what she is, she does what is within her power to feel ahead towards the source of the disturbance. Ohtli reaches out, trying to better discern what it is, what it's doing...and, most importantly, how it might be stopped.

The sickening it feeling leaves her with can be ignored well enough for now. Her duty is clear.
(Ohtli)
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[18:58] Windsor says, "Understood. And, Morrana... if somehow reversing the flow or purging it outright isn't practical, your mother might have given me the solution. 'Just blast it with magic.' ...no, that'd be ridiculous."
[19:01] Morrana Coza says, "I mean, I can literally just eat magic."
[19:01] Ohtli says, "I don't know if 'eating' this magic is wise..."
[19:01] Morrana Coza says, "I'd be perfectly fine."
[19:02] Windsor says, "We'll see what options we have."
[19:03] I'll relay what I find.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[19:07] Still, regardless of what form the spirit takes, it's unable to resist the call.

With Eiphraem in the lead, and Morrana trailing behind, the path they take is purified, one way, or another.

Ohtli? She could feel something akin to Eidolon's star. A bending of the lifestream, a piece of reality stolen, destroying all sense of what is natural or 'right'. There seems to be no purpose behind this, other than calling the spirits home...

Yet, as they grow closer to the source, those rotten, massive beasts from before come into view. Massive creatures that shouldn't be long. Humps of meat with heads where arms should be, arms where legs should be, heads rarely found. Save for one...

Abomination.

A babydoll spider?

No, more like...a babydoll centaur.

It charges towards the light. Massive, unnatural, galloping. As it draws closer, they could see what the creature consists of; an amalgamation of body parts.

Each leg consists of stitched together legs. It's arms? Very much the same. It's tail? Nothing more than massive, spines fused together, leaving behind something rather grotesque. It's head? Several heads burned and congealed together, giving the creature many faces.

...perhaps Eiphraem had been told of Stella's 'daughter.'

It seems to be paying little attention to the group, the naga would be the first to gaze upon it, and if left alone? It'd continue charging towards the light...

For whatever reason.
(Nightmare fish)
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[19:08] {NARRATION} Still, regardless of what form the spirit takes, it's unable to resist the call.

With Eiphraem in the lead, and Morrana trailing behind, the path they take is purified, one way, or another.

Ohtli? She could feel something akin to Eidolon's star. A bending of the lifestream, a piece of reality stolen, destroying all sense of what is natural or 'right'. There seems to be no purpose behind this, other than calling the spirits home...

Yet, as they grow closer to the source, those rotten, massive beasts from before come into view. Massive creatures that shouldn't be long. Humps of meat with heads where arms should be, arms where legs should be, heads rarely found. Save for one...

Abomination.

A babydoll spider?

No, more like...a babydoll centaur.

It charges towards the light. Massive, unnatural, galloping. As it draws closer, they could see what the creature consists of; an amalgmation of body parts.

Each leg consists of stitched together legs. It's arms? Very much the same. It's tail? Nothing more than massive, spines fused together, leaving behind something rather grotesuqe. It's head? Several heads burned and congealed together, giving the creature many faces.

...perhaps Eiphraem had been told of Stella's 'daughter.'

It seems to be paying little attention to the group, the naga would be the first to gaze upon it, and if left alone? It'd continue charging towards the light...

For whatever reason.
[19:22] The aura put off by the light in the center of the plagued land becomes a little clearer in purpose as she focuses her senses on it. The lifestream around it bends and twists and it's as if there's a void in the center of that bend. Just...nothing.

She might not know precisely what it is, or what it's doing besides drawing the spirits in. That's enough of a problem of its own.

"Whatever's there is calling them," she says, looking over her shoulder to the astrologist.

"...Do you think maybe a piece of the star was left behind? Could that be what's at work?"

It would explain something. Not everything, but something. It's the wildest of guesses.

"What if it's going to make more things like that fish. Or...something bigger?"

Ohtli turns back towards the distant light and focuses again. Did it feel anything like the specter amalgamation? That discovery might shed a little more light on what they were facing.
(Ohtli)
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[19:22] Of course he hadn't!

Golly, he had liked Stella. He was always shown the absolute best of her, and thereby, believed in the absolute best of her. Eiphraem Kang was still that hand-fed dog, an utterly naïve fool that when he earnestly said the star was made with completely good intentions, believed it entirely unironically.

Immediately, flashes of what he's seeing are relayed behind him.

The demon's blade hesitates.

He stares at the fruits of his allowance, at the charnel and sewn horrors alike enabled by his assistance, his permission, his help.

He stares at the creature stumbling, staggering, rushing towards the light. It makes his stomach flip, whenever he sees these creatures. It's not because of mere revulsion-

Responsibility.

Imagining him.

Stop. What are you doing?

He was no necromancer, but as the amalgamation of parts and possibly souls flings itself through that beacon of death and decay-

He tries to interrupt with a crashing, thunderous mental invocation, rather than merely the edge of the vindicator's weapon.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[19:29] Though some distance away from the vanguard, it didn't take a hawk's eyes to see that the monstrosities were all bound for the same destination. The beacon served some purpose as a markerlight to indicate to each spirit that it was somehow home, but was this any different than moths being drawn plain to a flame?

Probably, yes.

Watching the abominations charge onward only to vanish somehow set Windsor's stomtach at ill ease. He looked over in the Drakanite's direction and frowned. "...Yeah. I hadn't considered it, but those things can't just be vanishing. It's possible they're being... converted, or somehow combined." Into what? And for what purpose?

Whatever it was, it needed to be stopped. Nothing was going to get any better until it was stopped. "The plague-like residue of this place is testament enough to the fact that Eidolon wasn't entirely destroyed. But... what this is is something I wasn't anticipating." Still he tried to call to the stars for an answer of some kind, even as he expected nothing. To be sure, he wasn't even certain he could reach them from where he stood.

A cautious eye is sent in Eiphraem's direction, to the hesitation he seems to be acting on here. Windsor focuses carefully, using his astrolabe to get a stronger feel of his sixth sense. Now that they stood closer, he absolutely had to ascertain the purpose of this fell confluence.
(Windsor)
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[19:30] {NARRATION} At least fifty mouth holes open, and the creature comes to a complete halt. It shivers, it shakes, it vibrates and trembles; a cacophony of voices emerges from it's 'head'.

"Home."

It's voice wavers, and comes out as a choked cry. It's upper legs raise, kicking into the air, before attemtping to charge towards the light again.
[19:31] He can't.

He doesn't.

Someone else can strike it, but Eiphraem-

Can't interrupt.

His hands shake. The reply, so helpless and mourning from the misshapen creation leaves him silent. Cofi, at his side, can see him recoil, almost-

Instead, he braces the sword in front of them, backing AWAY from the light, as he creates a shielding in front of him.

Brace, Hits the minds of his companions.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[19:35] There was a frown, and Morrana pointed her stave at the horrid creature. "We shouldn't let that thing get to wherever it's going." And then Eiphraem didn't stop it, despite being in front.

So she was up.

The stars above gave her power, aimed down towards it. Her magic gathered in the blade of the scythe, pointed, and then -

Hateful, purging magics rippling out, grabbing at it, rooting and burning, severing. Anti-Magic at its finest, rippling, her face set in a resolute grimace, eyes almost hateful at the abomination.

"It should not exist."
(Morrana Coza)
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[19:38] "Home...?" she muttered to herself, already-tired eyes wandering to the light. "It seems... dangerous to let it get there," she said, half-mumbling, significantly more confuddled than Cofi typically is. The lax essence wasn't enough, it seemed: she was also keeping herself more-than-slightly out of it with a particularly generous dose of her won numbing, confusing Illusion magic pumping into her brain.

Despite following Eiphraem's lead up to this point, though, she's inclined to agree with Morrana here. She came here to kill monsters. She came here to rid the world of everything remaining of Eidolon's corruption. She raises her hand and tries to muster something, yet fails.

...Hm.

Still wishing to emerge on the stage of battle, however, she struggles through the pain and points to the creature, firing off a rainbow-colored cosmic beam to go along with the Neries' own magic.

She misses the first shot, but she's still in, coach.
(Cofi Slade)
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[19:43] "Please... Let it go-"

One hand relinquishes his blade. The scarred hand reaches for Cofi's upper arm as she goes to fire off a second blast- Trying to avoid smashing into the fresh wounds that were just treated and bandaged! His grip's a bit shaky and potent, the rush of fear and guilt running through his veins more potent than caffeine.

"We made these," His voice pleads. "Let it go this way, more dangerous to us or not, it wants to die to this magic, we can't-" It cracks, babbling.

What one beast sees from another has no instinctive revulsion for the sight of death. To him- It is injured. Dying. Pitiable. In pain.

He's unable to stop Morrana, however-

And a conflict might rapidly become impossible to avoid.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[19:48] Cofi prepares for battle without the ability to use a weapon. This is gonna suck, but let's rock, baby.
(Cofi Slade)
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[19:56] Morrana Coza whispers something.
[20:01] Ohtli says, "i s2g"
[20:07] As Morrie engages it, the demon's eyes squinch shut.

Perhaps it would make what lay ahead easier.

However, with the creature engaged and stopped from reaching the beacon of the remnants of the necrotic star triggered by their approach, the demon carves forwards.

He is ever diligent, to try to protect.

His teeth grit firmly together, his fangs digging into his lower gums as he moves in a streaking arc. In and out, weaving as they move. He is elusive, darting and striking to sever off fingers and toes, cutting into the icy, freezing cold he is all too familiar with.

The massive, stitched together corpse-taur was riven firmly with his black blade. When Ohtli was beset, a smashing from behind JAMS itself deeply into the lower 'thorax' of the creature as the demon smears in from the shadows, hacking, sawing, and tearing with the tyrium blade to utterly sever the spine-braided 'tail' that runs along it, paralyzing the beast as he coils and digs in, hacking brutally downwards-

But his mind is anything but.

It's a numbing, hypnotic wave that echoes out as his antimagic blade not only cracks and crashes through aged, rotted out bone reinforced, but severs those arcane, magical ties that permit skeletons to move without muscle, tearing through them as though they were physical strings.

Sleep.

It won't hurt anymore.

He promised. He didn't lie. It is okay.

Please let go.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[20:23] {NARRATION} Another piece of Eidolon put to rest. An amalgamation of souls freed, and a potential threat vanquished.

The 'child' and it's victims take a must deserved slumber, as they are laid to rest.

Thrum!

Wave after wave of corrupt necromatic energies pulse from the center of the ever steady stream of light. From the base? The light begins to recede, slowly dissipating from the ground, to the heavens.

In it's place? What appears to be a spirit.

White hair, golden eyes, surrounded by exorcist flames, lightning, and water. They could feel an overwhelming amount of sin dwelling within the figure. Man, woman? It was hard to tell, appearing silhouette of light behind it's many auras.

The only clear thing they could see....is a small shard embedding within the creatures chest. Akin to a spire shard, yet it had long since lost its divinity. Corrupted and tainted with foul cosmic energies, sin, and necromatic taint.

Presumably, the source of the plague.
[20:31] The battle against the spider is grueling, arduous, and as she fumbles its nearly gets on the worse end of its jaws. But they fall short and she looks up to see none other than the Archon with his blade sunk deep into the abomination.

She almost gets a chance to thank him, but then there's more development on the horizon. The twisting energies writhe and there's a pulse of energy from the center of the plaguelands, beating like a heart that should've given up the ghost long, long ago.

The light clears. There's a figure in its place wreathed now in that light instead. It carried all the hallmarks of something pure and divine. The holy flames, the white hair and golden eyes. What feeling washes off of it in waves doesn't match.

Corruption. Plain and simple. Something pure tarnished. The shard embedded in its chest, turned foul, is indicator enough. Ohtli stands and gathers her wits, her fortitude, and what help the lifestream can lend.

Rather than hurtling face first at it like she -really- wants to, like feels right, she looks towards Windsor and the others. All the same she is braced, prepared to strike. She mutters something quickly to him. Even gives him a wan little smile that's weakened by the aura of the thing that's still to be faced.

Years upon years of preparation and research may hinge upon a final confrontation. Ohtli prays for guidance for her blade and safety for her comrades.
(Ohtli)
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[20:31] Ohtli whispers: ...I'm calling in that favor. Don't get hurt on my account.
[20:32] The destruction of the centuar-like aberration was yet another consequence of the sordid place's sad tale. A creature that neither belonged nor had the right to live being purged; Windsor silently hoped that each soul would find peace via purging. Thoughts and prayers had their time and place, however; the man shielded his eyes momentarily at the sheer light emanating from the center of the confluence. When he managed to keep his eyes fixed on it once more, his mouth hung slack, open.

This was it. This was the shape of the disaster that brought Eidolon's land to heel, coalesced into the form of a spirit. It stood before them, fair oozing naught but that same, unsettling thrum that coated the land. In this case, however, it was all concentrated in a singular being, which made its presence all the more unsettling. "...This is it, then. You -- you're Eidolon. Or... at the very least--" He shook his head.

Somehow, Eidolon seemed like an appropriate name. He never did get the name of the star, but the place might as well have been represented in the form of this shade. Resplendent, but abhorrent at the same time. A literal beauty and beast rolled together in a singular abominable form, one that they could actually remotely relate to in some vague manner.

"...You know what it is we have to do." No matter what. That was the word that they gave. "I don't even know if you can talk, much less understand us." What was he doing? Speaking to the star itself? The residue of the explosion it left behind? Whatever it was, the sinful energy pulsing from its form brought sickness to his stomach. It was wrong, and it was here, and it was the only obstacle standing between them and the cleansing of this land, the conclusion of Eidolon's tragic story.

"This is for the good of the land." Shutting his eyes, Windsor drew out his trusty astrolabeonce again, letting it expand outward next to him. As the Drakanite muttered in his direction, the man returned it, the smile returned in her direction. Inside, anxiety panged true in his heart.
(Windsor)
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[20:32] Windsor whispers: You know I can't promise that, just like you can't promise the same if I asked that of you.
[20:32] Ohtli whispers: Bah...Can you blame me for trying?
[20:32] Windsor whispers: No. No I cannot.
[20:32] As the 'child' stops moving, the serpent idles, for but some moments- To ensure it passed, to ensure it moved on. He waits for the pressure against his sword to dull.

He takes no enjoyment out of the butchery, the congealed, rotted blood, flayed flesh fragments, and bone chips slowly drip off of him, dirt, viscera, and decay aliding off of him reeking bit by reeking bit, as he slithers off- His tail flutters almost like a streamer before his over a half ton of weight SLAMS down into the ground, a pressure of impact like a cannon.

Cracks are left in the riven, afflicted ground, as he slides forwards

If Ohtli needs a hand-

It is proffered.


But, soon, they see the center.



The source-

Or the nexus?

A difference, in essence.

To call it the 'source' wasn't quite right. As soon as he looks onto the androgynous figure, clad in warped exorcism, the urge to protect, cradle, and nurtureturned against every symbolic aspect it possessed-

He understands immediately what it is.

His eyes stare.

It was a reflection of the source.

And perhaps, it held the horrid kiss of all those who touched and nurtured it.

His jaw drops, for a moment. He stares. His earfins wilt.

He says, and emits, nothing, as Windsor speaks.

There is only static. He doesn't move immediately, transfixed. A thousand regrets. A thousand what-ifs. A thousand untrodden paths.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[20:34] Landing gracefully beside Eiphraem once more - and stumbling somewhat, using the serpent to support herself and immediately regetting the decision to let her hand touch anything - her eyes fell on the spirit. Even someone like Fool could feel that this thing might be the nexus of the whole thing.

The being itself didn't interest her so much as the shard in its chest. A still-wounded hand went to the shard dangling from her own neck, and a positively massive smile broke out onto her face. Same as always, her teeth were jagged, yellow, and downright awful.

"...I want that," she said simply, as if she couldn't muster anything else in her Illusion-drugged state and giving her own shard a squeeze, "Give that to me."

She giggled, only slightly. It was so close. "This is what I came here for," she muttered, ostensibly to Eiphraem. "There can't be another Eidolon."

The rod concealed in her cloak resonated and thrummed in response to being so near the corrupted shard, too. Collect that shard, destroy it - whichever. It fell on her to guarantee that the tragedy of Eidolon would never be repeated. There'd never be another Stella Cruor. There'd never be another Alice or Alvi, either. She'd see to it.

And so, wounded, heavily drugged, and incapable of holding her weapon, the Oscuri clown stood tall.

"Watch me, Alvi."
(Cofi Slade)
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[20:34] Ohtli whispers: May the Serpent protect you, Starseeker. It's almost through.
[20:34] Windsor whispers: We /will/ survive to see tomorrow, Caretaker. I wager my word upon it. Now... let's prepare.
[20:37] He glances to the side-

His head dips forwards.

There would be a pause for Windsor's words, but his jaw sets. His muscles tense, his coils wrap and brace him, as he tries to lock onto the efforts of spilt blood that once poured freely to obtain that precious chunk of divinity that gave rise to Eidolon's creation.

Understood. It rings clarion clear through the haze of Cofi's mind.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[20:42] Vesper fought, bleeding the horrid amalgation of necromantic magic. And then... The final being? What they'd come for, she thought?

Maybe. Then again, maybe there was something beyond even this. It was hard for her to tell. She wasn't an order Magi, she wasn't on the level of Eiphraem. All she could do was purge it down to pure nothingness.

"That looks like a Spire Shard." She muttered, rearing Sown Harvest, seeding the plaguelands with mercurial vines. "But... Weird. I wonder what it'd be like to consume?" She seemed excited by the possibility - perhaps that would cleanse the entire area.

She grinned.
(Morrana Coza)
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[20:48] Luminous eyes are cast upon them, offering few words. You can't call what it has a mouth, but it's lips do part when speaking. Several voices layered together as one, many of which Eiphraem and Cofi may be familiar with. Stella's prideful arrogance, Lucilius' blind rage, and Vespers insatiable hunger all laced within it's tone. There are other traces, hints, flickers of voices not yet forgotten. Alvi, Alice, even Perseus' own voice find itself within the fray.

"Eidolon is what worshipped me." Raising a spectral hand, the creature calls upon the power of it's tainted shard. "Eidolon is what created me." Massive is the orb of mana forming at it's finger tip. Growing and thrumming with chaotic energy that bends the lifestream around it. "Eidolon is what destroyed me."

Several flickers of light swirl within it's gaze. Red, green, grey. Wrath, pride, gluttony.

"Pompous pious fools."

I. AM. PLEIADES."

(Vesperius Gramour)
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[20:49] Luminous eyes are cast upon them, offering few words. You can't call what it has a mouth, but it's lips do part when speaking. Several voices layered together as one, many of which Eiphraem and Cofi may be familiar with. Stella's prideful arrogance, Lucilius' blind rage, and Vespers insatiable hunger all laced within it's tone. There are other traces, hints, flickers of voices not yet forgotten. Alvi, Alice, even Perseus' own voice find itself within the fray.

"Eidolon is what worshipped me." Raising a spectral hand, the creature calls upon the power of it's tainted shard. "Eidolon is what created me." Massive is the orb of mana forming at it's finger tip. Growing and thrumming with chaotic energy that bends the lifestream around it. "Eidolon is what destroyed me."

Several flickers of light swirl within it's gaze. Red, green, grey. Wrath, pride, gluttony.

"Pompous pious fools."

I. AM. PLEIADES."
(Vesperius Gramour)
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[20:57] "Pleiades? Is that what that thing was called?" Morrana asked, remembering that she wasn't a long dead girl. Curiosity shined through the onyx-skinned Neries as she stepped forward, the discordant mashup of voices grating to the ear, jarring. She hated it, teeth gritting at the thing.

"Clearly, they didn't destroy you well enough." She called, despite the overwhelming SIN that pulsed from the thing. Radiant magic didn't bother the Neries any more than water would a fish, the girl filtering it all into her own mana.

"So, I guess our job got simple Windsor." She said, glancing over. "We destroy that, and it's done, right?"
(Morrana Coza)
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[20:57] "It doesn't matter what you are. It doesn't even matter what we are, pious fools or no." An appraising glance is given to the rest of his party. They've weathered the trouble this far; there was only a little bit further to endure. The question lie in whether or not they could. "What matters is that your very existence is threatening to swallow this place whole.

"For that reason, I can't let you be - Pleiades, Eidolon, or whatever." The ashen-haired man narrowed his brow down at the barely-comprehensible creature. He gave his word, and he would make good on it. That was all there was to it. The astrolabe at his side made its rotations, spinning swift on its axis. This was going to hurt; it was an amalgam of three sins, and that was not liable to make things easy for them.

"Yes, Morrana," he called out, faint violet temporal energy swirling about his form. "We have to bring this story to a close, before it ends ours. Simple, right?" A bit more flowery than Windsor was used to, but it was how he felt about this place. A tragedy, from start to finish. There was naught else it could be.

The wind howled, the darkness closed in. Against the unification of three sinful magics, a spire shard, and far too many tormented souls, the odds were stacked against them. Not heavily a man of faith nor a man of superstition, all that he had to rely on was grit and guts. Hopefully both could be kept inside of him.
(Windsor)
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[20:59] The demon hears every echo. Stella's powerful, confident voice, Lucilius' hateful whisper, Vesper's direct, no nonsense sharpness, the dulcet murmurs of Alice, the slightly accented drawl of Alvi--

Perhaps, even. Valerie. Zoldak. Even the ever contributors of Bhaldraithe, dwelling below the surface-

And the laughing, affectionate ring of his lover in the depths of his death's grip, assuring him it was all fine.

That weight layers ever stronger.

His ears remain limp.

His morale plummets, but his will remains steadfast.

His fangs dig into his chin, and he slides backwards-

Preparing to strike.

He doesn't engage in talk. He can't bear it. He can't bear to hear the mockery, the ghost of every dollop of love, greed, desire, and ambition that was brutally slain and trying to claw out of it's grave.

After all.

It was on his hands.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[21:01] Shock pierces through the jester's Illusion haze, her smile vanishing, her eyes going wider than usual, and her lips remaining slightly parted as the star's embodiment speaks - not just in voices the Fool remembered, but one specific voice. But, in time, her lips found the will to form that wretched open-mouthed smirk again.

She locked eyes with the Sin-beast about as well as she could, all things considered. There was no fear - and no hate, either. What this creature had couldn't be called a life, but ages ago Cofi told her dearest Alvi never to take a life in malice.

And so there would be none here. This was just Cofi summarily writing the closing chapter of the tragedy of Eidolon and closing the book for good.

The jester only smiled, raising her hands to applaud before realizing what an awful idea that would be, current state considered. This was the worst injury.

"I always regretted not being there in the end," she said, her ostensible cheer clearly masking the misery that overtook her any time Alvi came to mind. "To help Alvi destroy the star, to... stop Alvi from-" she trailed off, not allowing her smile to fade.

"...I wasn't there then, but I'm here now, I am I am! And..." she sighed. "Alvi and Alice started it - and... I'll finish it, yes yes!" she screeched. "Pleiades? Hi, hi, hi hi hi, I'm Cofi Slade! I'm so sorry we didn't meet before! Then again... you wouldn't have 'lived' to stand here if we did."

She's rambling, almost getting downright incoherent. A good sign for her to stop talking and just end this for good.
(Cofi Slade)
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[21:01] Many things in life are not so blessedly clear cut. Good and evil, order and chaos, often mix together. Which has made it very difficult to determine just what 'doing good' is in some situations. A fact that Ohtli has never been able to get rid of. Nor would she ever.

The creature named Pleiades speaks, but the magics it use and its evident adulteration are obvious.

This is a being borne of nothing but misdeeds, arrogance, and sin. No good can come from it continuing to exist. It has to end.

If only so many other decisions in her life had been so simple or the path so clear. Now all she has to do is help slay it and not die. It's strange how, somehow, -that- is the easy part.

She gives the man beside her a salute, fist thumping thrice over her heart against the mythril with a steady, rhythmic clang-clang-clang. The Drakan turns to face the thing named Pleaiades and points her sword at it.

When it comes down to it her sacred breathis saved for action.

It's not the great aura of Ovan or any of his other contemporaries, but in the face of the sin magic and overwhelming Chaos she tries to extend her presence to all of her comrades, to bolster them through the lifestream's flow, however hampered it might be in this place.

What little succor she can offer, what small advantage she can provide, she freely offers it to her comrades on this venture.

(Ohtli)
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[21:20] Vesperius Gramour whispers something.
[21:21] Cofi Slade whispers something.
[21:41] {NARRATION} No matter how powerful this beast may be, it cannot contend with the combined might of an Archon and seasoned magi.

Up until the point of death, it manages to go toe to toe with the intruders. Wave after wave of flames filled to the brim with hate and regret, followed with raw chaos. Oceans crash down from the skies, while bolts of hungry lightning bite any who dare to get too close...

Aware that it's final moments draw close, it spends it's last seconds among the living doing what Pleiades does best.

"Make them suffer."

It's fingers dig into the shard embedded within it's core, twisting and turning....

Eiphraem is a slippery snake, and manages to avoid the wave of corruption freed from this beast.

Perhaps, capable of saving a single soul from damnation.

They can feel as if something tugs upon their soul itself, daring to drag it into the corrupt shard. Ohtli? Perhaps the connection to the arcane prevents her from enduring too much harm, as her circuits are fried in the process; magic will be a bit more difficult to cast for a few years.

Morrana? Uninjured until this point, and constantly feasting upon the mana of this spectral creature, suffers a similar fate to Ohtli, yet to a lesser degree.

Cofi? Every circuit within her hands becomes fried, as the majority of her damage lies within them. Her digits can still move, being the closes to the creature, she can still steal the shard, but using her hands to assist in the casting of magic? Now, impossible.

Windsor....

Less the naga intends to risk himself for Windsor, it's likely that Cofi will lose another to this damnable creation.
[21:47] ** Vesperius Gramour has inflicted an injury upon Ohtli. ("Damaged circuits", "Your mana circuits are damaged due to a failed attempt to siphon your soul. Casting magic will be difficult until they recover. ", "Temporary", "Duration: Long (12 days)") **
[21:51] Morrana drank and drank and drank. Siphoning mana, siphoning chaotic telekinesis and flame and lightning and gravity and exorcism. It filled her with unbridled power, enough to keep her going long after most other magi would have quit.

But it wasn't enough. She could see it coming, and her healing couldn't prolong it forever. She burned brightly, a pillar of purging magic that didn't destroy so much as suppress, annul, eradicate, and purge. There was nothing left of what she touched, nothing but the devoured wisps she drained for her own vitality.

Chaos streaked through her being with horrid effect, rending mana circuits... It was only momentary, until the Neries innate defenses ruined the attack and severed its connection, but it was enough. She collapsed onto her hands and knees, breathing heavily.

She... That hurt, badly. As badly as she'd ever been hurt, the poor pampered Neries.
(Morrana Coza)
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[22:01] Perhaps fittingly, Alvi's widow was the one to end it. Fighting through the pain, squinting to see through the blood in her eyes from being thrown around like a ragdoll the whole fight, the clown flew forward toward Pleiades, its final wave of soul-siphoning corruption knocking her straight out of the air - circuits heavily damaged, but she didn't even have time to reflect on it yet. She fell unevenly to her feet, tripping and landing on her knees. It didn't deter her: she continued rushing toward the creature, on all fours at first like a (heavily burned and wounded) animal, and then rising to her feet again. As she got nearer still, she roared like a feral beast and lunged forward.

"I told you I wanted that," the Oscuri growled as she finally closed the gap, her rieka lines flaring to life as her poor, mutilated left hand shot out, sharpened red-and-blue nails outright piercing through the creature as she took hold of the corrupted shard. "So I'm taking it, like I said I would." In the next moment, the shard was yanked right out, as violently as the Fool could muster. Dead on.

No magic here - only power. Cofi did her best to clutch it, pain be damned. As she told everyone who would listen - she felt compelled to collect all of the artifacts of Eidolon's corruption. She was the guardian. She was the keeper. She was a Slade.

Her rieka lines dulled back to their usual green. If that burst of energy came from her Oscuri rage, what was left was all Cofi - all Fool. "Just like Alvi wanted - if he and Stella are still suffering inside the star, inside you... I'm ending it," she muttered. "I'm destroying you... giving everyone peace."

In the next moment, she rose her right hand up, palm nearly against Pleiade's face.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

"GOODBYYYYE!"

Upon Cofi's exclamation... nothing happened. She hadn't even realized the damage her circuits took. Maybe it was the strain she put on them even with her injury. Maybe it was that final shockwave of corruption, the star's last middle finger in its dying moments. Maybe it was both. With a slight squeak of surprise and fear, followed by another roar, she stomped repeatedly into the ground, her foot leaving a small crater. She could feel it - the damage was the worst in her hands, but it was everywhere. Could she... even cast magic anymore?

She pleaded, begged, prayed silently. Just once. One more time. Just one more spell, that was all she needed. Even if she'd make the damage worse, even if she ran the risk ofblowing out her mana circuits for good, she'd force one last spell...

One more stomp. With all apologies to Alvi, she needed all the fury she could muster for what may be her last display of magic for a very long time.

A downright massive explosion of pure darkness erupted from the ground in front of her, blasting her back by sheer virtue of its force. The flaming spear from earlier sliced through her beam effortlessly, but this time she found her mark. Gods willing, that damnable star and the plague on this land would finally be destroyed, and Cofi...

Cofi was spent. The shadow cannon put a strain on her even at the best of times, and with such heavily damaged mana circuits... that'd be it. If anything, she had only made her injuries worse - woe to the medic that would tend to her later. Still clutching the shard, the aging jester passed out right where the explosion had knocked her.Not quite a Pyrrhic victory, but damn well close. The Fool had suffered.
(Cofi Slade)
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[22:36] {NARRATION} eiphraem fuckin died
[22:42] Any who would presume Eiphraem Kang unwilling to protect those under his charge knew little of the serpent's grievous defect.

He's a shadow. Flitting at the distant edge of the entity's vision, he glides in and out- Though flames and electricity course along, searing along him and agitating a wound of similar, resonant nature, aching driving him off. Dizzied and his heart weakly and nervously thumping with sympathetically scarred tissue, as the fight grows longer, he gets a bit less coordinated-

But he can break through an opening for Cofi, right as the Fool charges.

In moments, he is forced with a decision, as the shockwave erupts under Cofi's attempts to crush it

He swings Windsor's broken form out of the way- Coiling him up protectively, the serpent can't fight the shockwave, but he can brace for it.

An arm SLAMS against the ground, calling on pressure and force as musculature heaves, trying to move with the violent impact, the demon's magics trying to eat away, convert, purge itself of poison metaphysically and metaphorically as pointless as it may be.

He'd roll, as smoothly and ideally as he could along the ground, protecting that precious, human package in a shell of hissing steam and water, bunching up into a small ball around it. The man might get crushed and damaged from getting crushed by the demon-

But it was a might more than dying from having his circuits reaved in the final harvest of human misery as the howling, reaving force hits him and his magical power, rather than the old member of that little adventurer's guild that formed underneath Iosefka and with August.

Windsor wouldn't be dying today.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[22:46] A light at the end of the tunnel, a glimmer of hope as the battle draws on and on, taxing her to the fullest extent of her limits. She waves and darts through bolts of lightning, swinging clear of flames just barely, but in those final moments, in the being's death-throes, something hits her.

A tugging pull, a Siren's call into a oblivion, grips her soul. It nearly lives without her permission and Ohtli struggles to reign in her wayward spirit. All her circuits undergo immense strain just to keep herself intact, her spirit, mind, and body all in one cohesive unit.

The magnetic force ceases when Pleaides falls, but she's driven to the earth. Her wings shudder, go rigid, then dissolve, her horns recede into her head, and she looks so much...smaller.

In the aftermath she pushes herself up and her head whips around. Destruction, the injured. But Pleiades is no more.
(Ohtli)
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[22:49] Try as he might, Pleaides was a more convincing force than Windsor would have liked to have trucked with. The entire expedition was rife with danger - and doubtless everyone involved would be smarting with the blows incurred for lord knows how long. Windsor wasn't quite as fortunate as the others when it came to avoiding the full brunt of the final harvest. Too worn down by flames and telekinetic energy alike, the broken and battered astrologian could do naught but watch his impending doom.

Moments flashed through his mind like a film reel unfurled just for him. His first meeting with August, with Ohtli, with Crow, Vira, and the rest of those that comprised Frontier Co. The night he shared with the Ookami, dancing in the frigid moonlight. The quiet oath he shared with the one he cared the most for, and the initial bawling in the wake of their precious little parcel. They did good here. That was all that mattered to him now, and he was willing to embrace what came next if it meant she could escape safely for it.

Shutting his eyes, Windsor was immediately confused by the sudden wrenching of his everything in some other direction. Was this what death was like? The feeling of consciousness swept away from the body, spurred on to the stars? Why did it feel so slimy? Why was it so crushing?

Oh. Because Windsor was swept away by the muscled Archon of Crafthold, barely rescued in the nick of time. That was why all of those things were happening. Feeling the air choked out of him, he tumbled towards safety, feeling the chill emerge down his spine when the beast of a demon was also tapped onto by the final clarion call.

He didn't have time to react, however. Just lie within the creature's coil, completely discombobulated... but alive.

But alive.
(Windsor)
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[22:51] Cofi comes to just in time to lament snake-dad's injuries, but... yeah, she's not going anywhere.
(Cofi Slade)