Iso/Daveigha-Wrath/Alauneyl/Casim

Please wait, connecting to server...

Connected!

⭐ Looking to smarten up your Oasiz profile? Get a new one, it's easy! oasiz.net/forum/?showtopic=25991 ALL users can now create pretty profiles like this for free: oasiz.com/Heisenberg?oacc=true Sign up today for free and secure your username/handle over on our new site: oasiz.com/?oacc=true&ref=chat  ❤


Note: Oasiz has detected that you are connected to this chat session from the IP address 174.252.192.49.


The chat's topic is: Carved from the mountainside, the monolithic stronghold looms in silent majesty. [ Happy Birthday to us! Celebrating ten years on Oasiz. ] [ Dark and Overcast ]


Visit http://deathstalkerempire.com to join! Also inform Drenai so he can upgrade your membership. [ Description of castle and region may be found here: http://tinyurl.com/os6ec53 ]


Fᴀᴜsᴛ : Ya back.))

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : <3 ]

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : <3 hey loves]]

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : .:{ A brief wave of superiority inflated her ego at the idea of Wrath hiding things from his betrothed; she wanted to goad him, provoke a reaction – get back at him, though for what, she couldn’t rightly place. Swallowing the vitriol that tried to rear its head by nature and nurture alone, Alauneyl tried a new tactic. One that was, incredibly, not entirely self-serving. “She reminds me of that woman your father married; so doe-eyed and kind in face that it makes me want to throw up,” she began casually, adding a quick, “but” to stifle any protest he might have had. “That’s exactly my point. She’s a better person than you, Wrath. Gentler. As you are kinder than I am. I won’t press the matter because I made the decision to be free of your life, but women like that don’t sleep well in beds of lies or casual omission. Besides.” Alauneyl paused briefly as he began to disappear from view, only for one of his massive hands to grip her by the wrist, “Maya could use someone better <c>

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : than us if she’s to be any sort of functional up here.” It was a hard pill to swallow, one that choked her and made her ill, but Alauneyl realized shortly after Maya was born that she couldn’t be raised as traditional Drow women were; not if she were to be on the surface. A failure to her own race, the Drowess put aside the demands of her people in favour of giving their child a better chance of success. Thoughts of Maya and the hope Isolde might hold for her were put aside as the world slowly shifted, disorienting the General. Reflections on the cavern wall were replaced with with constellations that she immediately recognized from a lengthy foray into the Tenoch Desert years ago. The damp cold of the wood and cave were replaced with a harsh one that stole the breath and rubbed the skin raw with the stiff winds. With no trees to prevent light from the stars or moon from reaching the surface, the rolling hills and valleys created by sand dunes were plainly illuminated, <c>

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : even to Wrath's eyes. Sand stretched for either side of the trade road that they'd been deposited onto, and though the reek of copper cloyed the air, it was the pillars of smoke from a nearby settlement that had given Alauneyl's sharp gaze a place to start searching. Wrath indicated they go, and slipping her shortbow from her back to string it with alarming speed, she chased after him, the sand making each footstep multiple times the effort it might normally have been. Ruins of colourful tents, adobe homes, and shops were all that remained while a small group of Tanar'ri dug through rubble and bodies alike, indiscriminate in their looting. More pressing was the trio of looming beasts that vaguely reminded her of minotaurs, though one was significantly bigger than the others, slowly patrolling the perimeter. In the centre of it all, slowly immolating bodies and fabrics alike, was a creature made of flames; wicked black claws protruded from its bright orange and<c>

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : yellow body, while a great horned skull sat where a face should be. Recalling the burns on her arms and chest, suddenly feeling the searing of her flesh all over again, Alauneyl glanced toward Wrath, murmuring, "Discretion is the better part of valour. There's friendly soldiers nearby." Yet, she somehow believed he wouldn't heed her warning.}:.

Mᴀʏᴀ·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ has joined the conversation.

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : I swear to god I left her at home. ))

Mᴀʏᴀ·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : *toddles around the great hall unattended*))

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : Fuuuuuuuu- ))

Tìtan has joined the conversation.

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : :: The blonde-haired warrior looked back at the female Drow, affording her a wolfish grin. “Maybe, but I’m inlove with her.” He answered honestly. “I want to think the feeling is mutual, but as history can attest, I don’t have much luck with women.” A veiled dig at their own failed relationship. Wrath’s tone was playful, though perhaps implied that some part of him expected it to all end in tears. Maybe because he believed that men like him were not worthy of happiness, which was what the florist represented to him. He hoped he was wrong, that he would make it back from here and Isolde would be waiting for him. Feeling a little pathetic that he already missed her this much. >>

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> Hopefully Wrath’s admission of affection for Isolde wouldn’t warrant a scathing rebuke from the acid-tongued General. “It would mean a lot to me if you allowed Maya to get to know Isolde, I want us all to get along.” Something oddly touching about the sentiment being expressed, in despite of the wretched circumstances. Wrath lifting his hand over his eyes as the vicious winds blew sand and dirt in their direction. The broad-shouldered warrior squinting as he discerned a route for them to venture towards. The gruff warrior surveying the desolate landscape as elevations in the terrain culminated in sand dunes. The Prince-Regent progressing with great strides towards the billowing plumes of smoke, his hand reaching for the hilt of his prodigious blade. Inwardly reflecting that he was no better than the refugees who’d perished out here in the middle of nowhere. >>

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> If need be, he’d die with them. The Drow hurried to keep up as they came upon the obliterated town. The stirring visual of abandoned tents and desecrated homesteads made him feel sick, as Wrath’s baleful glare caught glimpse of hulking beasts and winged creatures, some with great talons and others with monstrous horns. “The prophecies were true.” Snarled Wrath. “Invasion.”  Though it was the flaming abomination which lauded its might above the others which conjured true dread, even in Wrath. Its demonic skull being the last thing these refugees had seen before their bodies were engulfed in an infernal rage. Piles of half-eaten and mutilated corpses stacked on top of each other. Alas, despite Wrath’s impulsive streak to charge towards death, he remembered that he and Alauneyl shared a child and that Maya would be robbed of both parents if he acted recklessly. >>

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : I mean, I told you.))

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> “You’re right.” Muttered the General of the North. Crouching behind a barrel. “Which way?” Seeking the guidance of the Pathfinder as she spoke of reinforcements. The pair would need to rely on their guile and grit to surely overcome these odds. ::

Imbroѕ･Dinyr : -takes care of Maya-]

Mᴀʏᴀ·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : *realizes Imbros is male, spits at him*))

Imbroѕ･Dinyr : -that's fine-]

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : back in 20 minutes. Driving girlfriend to work. ]

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ is away.

Imbroѕ･Dinyr : kk]

Tìtan : *yawns and stretches out on the floor to the side of the throne* ]]

Thaelasai†The†Blind has joined the conversation.

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : Welcome!))

Thaelasai†The†Blind : Hello)

Thaelasai†The†Blind : -hands her some chocolate- 😋)

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : Disclaimer: This is a large ass post.]]

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : Co-written ftw!]]

Imbroѕ･Dinyr : 🤗]

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : The further they went into the decimated village, the more apparent it became that there were eyes upon them. Daveigha was careful not to release Isolde’s hand; walking side-by-side, the soot on the ground became thick, dense with debris and heavily combating quick footfalls. The pathway they walked was lined with the decrepit structures that once were either homes or businesses-- a lack of familiarity with the port town negated Isolde’s ability to discern. The haze of soot and smoke cast a veil over their long-range sight, the Fallon girl quickly realized. The hollow shells of buildings were black and thin, winding up toward the sky in pitch spires, withy and brittle. Beside her, Daveigha walked with her eyes forward, aurate gaze fixed on a presence that the girl was not privy to. Her grasp was affirming, and Isolde depended on its stability. Isolde despaired at the thought that the scent of burning flesh was that of innocent townsfolk, stomach churning as her own recollections -x

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : -c*

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : of the nostalgic smell grasped her firmly and shook her resolution. The Fiend glanced over her shoulder, smiling slightly.  “Can you sense anything?  Anything living here?”  Isolde paused-- could she? These parts of her nature had yet to be explored. Isolde slowed her pace, allowing herself the time to process this query. She felt the inclination to close her eyes as she searched the recesses of her mind.  Bent and trembling, a figure hid in the depths of fallen debris. It stared through a death mask: hollow eyes counting movement beyond an old tavern. It shuddered with a ragged breath and carried itself forward. There was a shift in the accumulated ash. Creaking wood threatened collapse of the structure. But it waited...its long, gnarled limbs of shivering, rotted flesh and bone outstretched and frozen, like an effigy to the ruination it had caused.  The bleak scene had been distracting such that Isolde hadn’t recognized the looming figure concealed by peaks of smoldering -c

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : structures. Her senses were keen to those things that were alive, but the land was scarred and barren of anything else -living- save for she and the Fiend. But there was something. Something other.  Pausing for the Fallon girl, Daveigha faced the opposite direction. Something didn’t seem correct.  For where life once dwelled, there was a hollow absence. The tiniest of hairs rose across her arms and back, coursing up to her neck where dark hair was coiffed. Gaze narrowed; idol hand reached for the blade at her hip.  “Isolde--”  The girl gasped, eyes opening wide in shock as she fought to find breath that wasn’t there. “It’s here.” she breathed, wheezing as she searched the horizon for the looming figure and its dreadful spirit. It was like a nightmare, horrifically present and absent at the same time. Hard to grasp, but leaving in its wake an absolute certainty it was there. The stench came first: death carried with it the blight of plague sores and decaying corpse.  Daveigha’s -c

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : senses ignited and she spun, scanning each fallen home and business for its face.  She couldn’t picture it in her mind’s eye; a ward was blocking its true form from being seen among the wreckage. The clasped hands of the two women was strengthened by an iron grip and the demoness’ scalding touch could be felt through their gloves. As they circle-stepped, a deafening shriek breached the air between Isolde, Daveigha, and the abomination.  It surged forward, splintering wood and shattering the door where it had been hiding. Hands broke apart and Daveigha called out, “Away!”  As if paralyzed by the realization that they were facing something far darker than Isolde could have imagined, time slowed as she watched the lumbering figure birthed from its hiding place. Smoldering wood burst into shrapnel of ember and tinder and Isolde was snapped into action, Daveigha’s voice abruptly grounding the girl as her eyes re-focused on the corporeal scene before them. The smell hit her like a -c

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : sickness, unlike anything she’d ever known. ]

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : It coiled in her belly and committed itself to the recesses of her memory, where it would lie in wait to remind her of this dark occasion. Skidding across the ashen, broken path, the demoness watched as the monstrosity clambered toward Isolde. She snarled and hand opposite carrying her sword opened, fingers splaying to command a portal creation. Falling through the ground, she disappeared from sight, only to burst through thin air from the top of a fiery structure. Blade pointed down, booted feet landed on the back of the creature and she stabbed with vicious fervor into its spine. It twisted in fury, its robes parting to reveal a small lantern dangling from its anorexic waist.  With dual instinct, Isolde’s hand grasped the handle of her scythe. The fearsome thought that she’d never cut anything, save for sheaves of wheat, crossing her mind as her blade arched forward to curve defensively before she and the Demoness. Before she had time to notice, Daveigha was gone from her >

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : side. With her second hand presently free, she grasped the handle of the curved blade with both hands and watched as the Fiend made her first volley. Again, another atrocious sound left the maw of the beast, and it reached back towards Daveigha, skeletal fingers shredding her cloak. She hung on by the hilt of her blade, being swung back and forth violently as claws scraped and dug through her clothing into her flesh.  The Fiend gritted her teeth and twisted the blade further, but it seemed to not do anything but irritate the lower demon further into murderous craze. Deeper into madness. Enraged by the sight of their opponent clawing at Daveigha, Isolde felt the ire rising within her out of defense for her companion. Its anguished call was met by the fury of the petite florist, who echoed its scream with an equally wrath-induced call. Not understanding where the fire in her belly had come from, aside from loyalty to a dear friend, she pulled the scythe back to her left and >

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : heaved forward into a leaning run. With chaotic rage pent up in her small soul, she gave little thought to much else other than what seemed to be instinct-driven attack. Small in the wake of its path, the withy florist knew without practice that its legs would be weak. It towered over the pair of them on wiry stilts, concealed beneath a billowing, tattered hood. She swung as she approached, blindly running at its feet with untrained advance. Daveigha watched the blade of the scythe pierce the smoke.  Isolde’s war cry announced the descent of her assault, but it was far too late.  The lower demon spun, one clawed hand grabbed Daveigha at its back and throwing her forward.  She hurtled towards a fuming heap of a once well-built house and crashed into the fire.  Without the Fiend to distract it, it rounded on the Fallon girl, its death mask now askew, revealing the terrible face underneath.  Flesh melted from its scalp of scraggly, greasy hair.  Its eyes were colorless: grey>

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : swirling orbs fixated on Isolde.  Broken teeth pulled into a grin and mechanically, the demon’s head fell to the side.  Both of its arms wrenched towards her, long blades for fingertips catching her at her ribs. Daveigha slammed through what was once stone, windows and doors.  She blasted through the rubble and heard the resounding crack of bone as one leg caught itself against a still-standing pillar.  Nerves exploded; anguish centered in both her injured limb and skull.  Blood pooled in her mouth, ran down her nose.  The Fiend collapsed against a burning wall, whimpering through gritted teeth as she realized that her leg might have been fractured.  “FUCK!”  Hands pushed her to shakily stand once more and she wobbled through the debris to find her way back into the village square.  Limping, but not defeated, hands were cast down at her sides.  Beneath the cotton and leather of her garb, unholy flames began to burn away her gloves.  Flesh was revealed, only to peel >

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : back as tattered paper and the true form of the Fiend appeared.  Writhing scales of green and gold contracted as an asp’s would, preparing for strike. (FIN)

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : The horror visited upon the girl was staggering, as the bladed talons of their opponent found rapid purchase in her ribs. She’d been stuck in place as she stared at the looming figure once its mask had come loose, shocked by her failure at assault-- she’d given it everything. How could it not have worked? Pain seared through her small frame as blood sprayed out of the gashes left at her side. Ebony leather and corset tearing like tissue under its maw to open up the unblemished ivory flesh beneath. Her grip loosened on the scythe, fear permeating her thoughts as she fell to her knees in the thick, ashen laid muck. Isolde’s vision was hazy as adrenaline coursed through her limbs and activated the flight within her. -M O V E- it compelled her. N O W. She scrambled to her feet, picking up the long staff of her weapon with weak, trembling hands. The scent of her own blood assaulted her senses, triggering a panic within her that heightened her awareness.  “Isolde!”  The demoness cried-c

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : out, seeing her companion stand once more.  The beast lurched, driven in its bloodlust towards the florist again.  Daveigha could not stop herself from bolting towards it, launching herself onto its back.  Prey to an apex predator, hands snatched its mask and drove through its eye sockets.  A murmur of demonic tongue was growled and Daveigha began to call on the lore of flame.  Black fire burst from her palms, incinerating the flesh left on the abomination’s face. The feeling of fear that pervaded her thoughts and wracked her frame was unrelenting. Isolde could hear Daveigha’s warning cry as the lower demon made its advance toward her, lust freshly renewed by the scent of her blood. As she tried to run, the weakness in her knees prevented her from progressing too far, svelte frame collapsing in its attempt to flee. She turned as she fell, watching from beneath the towering frame of their ghastly opponent as Daveigha struck at it viciously from her vantage.  As she did, gauging at-c

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : its glassy, vapor colored orbs, Isolde averted her gaze, stomach churning at the thought of Daveigha’s attack. Lovat gaze fell to the lantern dangling at the demon’s waist where it was held by a tattered, crusty ass rope. It was briefly concealed as its threadbare cape flitted loosely around its shoulders and legs, peeking in and out of view while it struggled with Daveigha at its face. As the Demoness drove her bare hands into its eye sockets, the lantern illuminated with pulsating light. Daveigha’s brutish pursuit of the demon’s brain matter was invasive, causing the lantern to flare with each malevolent thrust of the Fiend’s hands. “THE LIGHT!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, voice brutalized by her exclamation as she struggled to articulate what she was witnessing. “IT’S LANTERN!” she hollered, feeling the sting of her cries hoarse in the back of her throat. “Your scythe!”  The Fiend cried out from atop the lower demon, one hand forced in through its mouth and down the -c

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ has returned.

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : interior of its neck.  Its shattered teeth bit into her wrist, chomping and gargling as Daveigha tried to desperately maintain her position on its back.  She watched as Isolde surged once more from her place in the soot and ruin, darting to take up her weapon once more. “USE IT!  SHATTER IT!”  She screamed back, her demonic flesh splitting and spewing blood from open wounds.  Nausea pooled in the Fiend’s stomach and she could sense it--the lower demon would tear off her arm if she didn’t release it. Recognizing that fear had no room in their fight, Isolde forced herself to move forward. Each step was easier than the last, lithe frame gaining speed as she tried to ignore the agony in Daveigha’s voice while it called out direction. The scythe was heavy in her hands, arms fatigued with the rush of adrenaline that flooded her muscles. Spying a boulder amidst charred rubble, the petite florist saw her opportunity for lift. As she approached, she gave no thought to the effort required -c

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : to hurl herself into the air off of the boulder’s height-- she only put trust in her perception to adapt for the terrain difference.]

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : Welcome back, handsome!]]

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : Finding purchase purely by luck, her calves contracted before bursting open to throw her forward. Trained in the fields with the curved blade and familiar with its reach, she pulled back while she heaved forward and then swung mid-air toward the lantern with surprising accuracy. The hooked blade shattered the glass panes of the lantern, Isolde’s lithe frame heaving with the effort as the dizzying effects of her stress flooded her senses and renewed her spirit. “It is done!” she shouted once she hit the ground, small body slapping the earth with a disgusting, soggy thump. The earth beneath them trembled; Isolde’s strike had been true.  A sharp ring pierced the air and the creature’s entire form began to shake.  It twisted and writhed, bones weathering and flesh crumbling.  It fell as a heap into the soot, ash jetting from the ground.  Daveigha dropped with it, landing in the disintegrating mass as one final, rasping breath was released.  That strange silence befell them once >

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : more, save for the gasping of the two women.  The Fiend glared down at her arm, torn flesh and muscle exposed and frayed.  Her shoulders heaved, gut lurching at the sight.  Her babies!  All else fell away as the demon felt her stomach beneath her bodice.  Pausing to listen, there was the same thumping of dual heartbeats found within her body.  Head jerked up and she smiled toward Isolde, calling out into the falling ash, “And that guard thought gardening tools wouldn’t get us anywhere!  Imbecile!” (FIN)

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : *takes a bow*))

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : *passes the hell out*]]

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : WE DID IT]]

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : WE DID IT.))

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : .:{ “In love,” Alauneyl shuddered with disgust at the notion, even making a display of spitting, as if the word was cursed. Catching the reference, the drowess began, “I wasn’t trying to-“ Cutting herself off, the General of the South bit back the words that threatened to escape her. Now wasn’t the time or place to try and explain that she hadn’t meant to bring an end to things that night, that navigating surfacer relationships was complicated and more confusing than anyone gave credit to. It didn’t matter, she reminded herself whilst recalling the image of him kneeling before Isolde. Moments like these reminded her just how separate she was from the people she surrounded herself with; no matter the effort she put into adapting to the world of sunshine, she would always fall short in her personal relationships. Vowing that it would not be the same for Maya was her only consolation. “Maya may get to know Isolde,” Alauneyl permitted simply, realizing what she represented to <c>

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : the toddler, “But with the caveat that they are supervised until such time that I am sure no harm will come to the girl.” Drow goodwill only went so far, and it was difficult to fight the idea that not everyone was out to get her. She recognized immediately that she might not like Isolde on a personal level, though it was hardly anything malicious - Alauneyl simply didn’t like most people anyway – and as such, did not make the offer to get to know her. Privately however, she decided she could at least be respectful toward the woman. Before them were several different varieties of demon however, and Alauneyl’s inner monologue was promptly quelled in favour of concentration. Leering at the carnage, the General of the South shifted prone on the cool sand, trying to make sense of the destruction. Normally, Wrath and Alauneyl held opposing views on Drenai, but in this moment, she couldn’t help but think him a cunt for leaving when this was happening. Leaning onto her left, the <c>

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : drowess began to stiffen her left arm at an angle to prepare her bow for firing, but the Prince-Regent did not move from her side, instead relenting to her suggestion. Shock fluttered across her dark features before she glanced up to the sky, gathering her bearings by the stars and constellations. “That way,” Alauneyl answered after a moment of concentration, gesturing southeast, further into the desert. “I’m not sure of the distance exactly,” she breathed as she rose to a crouch and began to lead the way, “An hour, maybe two, by foot? Once we get out of sight, I have this.” Procuring an onyx figurine of a horse to show to Wrath, Alauneyl then began covering their footsteps behind them with careful sweeps of her cloak, reducing the likelihood that their path would be noticed as they retreated. At least, she hoped, until daybreak. }:.

Thaelasai†The†Blind has left the conversation.

Mᴀʏᴀ·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ has left the conversation.

Imbroѕ･Dinyr : very nice posts all around ya'll tonight]

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ has joined the conversation.

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : <3 ))

The▪Cimmerian : Welcome home, Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ. 😋 ]

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : *puts down his fucking newspaper*))

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : Christ. SEE, WRATH? THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO ALONE. ))

Fᴀᴜsᴛ : Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ, hello.))

▪Frederik▪Flamel▪ : welcome home Lort Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ,]

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : Welcome back, Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ !]]

▪Frederik▪Flamel▪ : -bowz-]

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : #hisnameisworthyofpaste ))

▪Frederik▪Flamel▪ has left the conversation.

▪Frederik▪Flamel▪ has joined the conversation.

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : Lowering the broad sheaf of reports he was perusing in his office, Casim cut a long, unblinking look at his secretary. "He did...what?" Dropping the papers on the desk, the Lich stood for a moment, gazing at his office, looking around it as though deciding his next moves.  "Get out. All of you out. Out. OUT!" Scribes and servants skittered toward the door, cramming their way through it as Casim Deathstalker, the Heretic Prince, buttoned the collar of his robes and reached beneath his desk for the rosewood box kept so often out of view, slamming it open so hard one of the hinges split, revealing a long, sheathed blade that he quickly strapped around his waist over his robes. Smoothing his hand over the pommel, drawing the orichalcum and dark-steel damascus blade, he stalked toward a set of broad cabinets and withdrew a handful of what looked like someone's burial shroud, wrapping it around his offhand fist. There was no time for questions, no time for planning, -c-

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : -c- there was only retrieving the Prince-Regent and anyone foolish enough to go out into Tenoch with him. He'd read the reports. He'd seen the minutes of the conversation between he and the Soothsayer...that was the only place he could be. Darting toward his ritual room, the Lich stopped to grab a handful of mandrake root and cram it into his robe pocket before slipping into the darkened space, reaching with his right hand and making a cutting, rending gesture at the air at the heart of the ornate circles inscribed on the marble floor. Immediately the air in the space became dim, smokey, as though full of dust and decay, and reality rended under his will, dividing, tearing a hole through which the Lich could travel...netherwalking took a great deal of his power and focus, but there was no other way to reach the Prince in time to stop whatever fuckery he was planning. -c-

You have been marked as being away.

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : I have to sleep for a bit, but I'm excited to see what you all come up with in the AM. <3]]

Isᴏʟᴅᴇ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : Excellent writing, everyone!]]

Imbroѕ･Dinyr : Same!]

Imbroѕ･Dinyr : I also need to sleep but I've loved everything tonight 😀]

Xylon•Darkstar has joined the conversation.

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : Sleep well folks! ]

Imbroѕ･Dinyr has left the conversation.

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : Night guys. ))

▪Frederik▪Flamel▪ : Night-o]

The▪Cimmerian : *Waves* ]

Xylon•Darkstar has left the conversation.

Fᴀᴜsᴛ has left the conversation.

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : -c- Stepping into the peeling, ruined void in reality, the greater undead was reduced to his aetheric form, faster than thought, cutting a path through the space between them that would leave ripples in reality, a sudden snap of cold spreading across the land, freezing winter harvests, sending people fleeing for their warmth and safety as his will guided him toward the nephilic beacon of light out on the horizon. He was focused on Wrath, the prince's spiritual signature so similar to Drenai that he could be tracked as he had his father. Foolish boy. What did he believe he could accomplish by going out on his own? Even with a small party he was putting everything they'd planned at risk. As he reached his target, near where Wraith and Alauneyl stood a miasma of chill and decay spread out in a ten foot radius around a sickening, dizzying rend in reality, through which the Lich stepped, looking no less than enraged as his cold, unblinking stare surveyed the land around them, -c-

▪Frederik▪Flamel▪ has left the conversation.

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : -c- one skeletal hand poised on the pommel of his sword. Where the Lich stood, what little plant life survived in the waste began to curl and blacken, the area beneath the rift corrupted, rendered bereft of any life. There were demons in the area, he could sense them, taste them on the wind, and looking to Wraith, the Lich spoke, possibly out of turn, "this was well-intentioned I'm sure, but no less foolish for it. Both of you." -d-

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн has joined the conversation.

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : *coos in a deranged way*))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : *shreds air guitar to impress Sev*)

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : *swoons*))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : *power slides*)

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : *throws bra onto the stage*))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : Death did not end up claiming me today, thankfully. Lesson almost learned.)

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : Glad you've escaped death.))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : Milo was super helpful. Kept walking over me while I lay there in pain.)

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : 'That's a nice boob you've got there. Be a shame if someone stepped on it.' ))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : Yeah, for a cat he's got incredible anatomical knowledge of the human boob.)

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : Bastard.))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : Still packing?)

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : Done for the night.))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : Want to.... you know...? *eyebrow wiggle*)

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : *blushes* Anywhere and everywhere.))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : *puts cap on backwards* I choose you, bish)

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : :: A gruff nod of appreciation was sent Alauneyl’s way in response, appreciating the fact she was accommodating to his suggestion. Maya was important to him and it was important to Wrath that he played a role in her life, which by extension meant Isolde would as well. “Thank you,” expressing his sincerity. Agreeing to the Drow’s condition of supervision. “Naturally.” Mindful of her suspicious nature. While crouched behind a barrel with Widow Maker clutched tightly, the Prince-Regent surveyed the area in greater detail. Obliterated structures and falling debris filled his line of sight. Broken slabs of concrete and shattered wood interspersed amidst the arid landscape. Colourful tents that lent themselves to the town’s culturally vibrant mosaic, were now blackened in the aftermath of unleashed Abyssal magic. >>

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> It was a scene of abject devastation only reinforced by the scores of dead which had been savagely ripped apart by these roaming monsters. Clear to Wrath that the grim tales of Immoten were worthy of his recognition, believing them nothing more than superstition until they’d confronted him on his doorstep. For the Tenoch Desert and -more importantly- the people who occupied this region, were part of his father’s Empire, meaning it was his responsibility to defend them. Nodding when Alauneyl discerned a route for them to trek, the hulking warrior lowered his head as he cautiously moved from various points of cover -- ranging from broken carriages and wagons, to abandoned market stalls and now-derelict pavilions. Observing as Alauneyl decided on a direction, Wrath nodded and followed, knowing it was vital they found reinforcements. >>

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> Recognition in his stare when the Drow showed him the onyx figurine. “He gave you a Demon Steed? By Sophia; even I didn’t get one of those.” Complained Wrath before they moved again. However the chill he felt running down his spine had him grabbing at Alauneyl’s elbow. It was a familiar presence, though definitely evil. Prompting Alauneyl to halt mid-stride. “Wait.” Realising he hadn’t imagined it when the ominous presence of the Lich emerged from the gloomy sand dunes. “My uncle.” Wrath bolstered by Casim’s presence decided he would no longer hide. Rising from the crate he’d been hiding behind. “New plan,” grinning gruffly at the undead Pale Elf and the Drow who sought a more sensible route. “Foolish maybe, but with your magic, my sword and her arrows, we may yet get out of here alive.” >>

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> Though Wrath’s optimism was short lived, realising they’d been spotted by the winged Tanar'ri. The large warrior launching himself over a partially demolished wall to meet them head on, Widow Maker eager to sink its steel into their demonic carcasses. ::

Εʀzαbεт·тнε·Sαтyʀ has left the conversation.

Ѵɪᴋᴛᴏʀ▪Fᴀʟʟᴏɴ : -eats popcorn- ))

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : dude. Come help us kill shit. ]

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : .:{ Successfully leading Wrath away from the possible melee was a win, and she was already developing a plan to utilize the soldiers at the outpost they were heading to. They would be successful, and start a systematic extermination of Tanar’ri. Finding the conversation about Maya to have reached a natural end, Alauneyl grinned wickedly when Wrath bellyached that he didn’t have a demon steed, goading in a singsong voice, “That’s because he loves me more than you.” It was a kinder prod than announcing that Viktor also received one. Forced to stop mid-step by the immovable weight of Wrath’s hold, Alauneyl sneered at the sudden stop, having missed the sudden shift in the air beyond the cold. Following his gaze, the drowess witnessed Casim materialize from thin air. This, in turn, caused Wrath to change his mind about their plan of retreat. Staring, infuriated at the Heretic Prince, as the Prince-Regent declared his new plan, she swore before lashing out at the Lich, “Did you <c>

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : not see the direction I had that dumb fuck walking in? AWAY? Do you see what direction he’s going now?! This is on you!” Drawing her bow, Alauneyl sneered and wheeled about to chase after Wrath, jumping dextrously onto the destroyed wall that he’d just vaulted over. Knocking a pair of arrows, the drowess drew back her bowstring and took aim at the right wing of the airborne Tanar’ri, hoping the broadheads would shred it and ground him. }:.

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : Outside of cover, the Lich had inadvertently made them a target, and Casim could be heard to curse under his breath as he drew the fine blade from his hip, the shriek of the quickly freezing blade as it freed itself from its sheath sounding as Wrath threw himself into the fray, his fell sword raised. Seeing danger descending from high above, the Heretic uttered a word of power, gesturing toward Wrath's turned back to imbue him with mage-armor, something, anything to safeguard his life, a sheen of ash spreading across the warrior's flesh. The shroud wrapped around his left fist was burning into him, and the Lich hissed at it, his eyes cutting toward Alauneyl as he took a step behind her. "Don't look directly at the flame!" He ordered, then sparked the hanging end of the shroud to life, imbued with the death of a martyr of Sophia, it burned white-hot, enough to blind the nearest of the Tanar'ri bearing down on them, several reaching to claw at their own eyes, shrieking. -c-

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : -c- Lifting the burning shroud high once the pair's backs were turned, its light cutting into him as well as the Tanar'ri, it emblazoned the area near them in enough light for Wrath to see everything around him, blinding any demons who's eyes fell upon it. "They would have found you regardless," the Lich asserted toward Alauneyl through his teeth, the flame becoming too much to bear, but bleaching the retinas of the damned. Shaking it out, Casim followed the pair into battle, not bothering with cover as he cast quickly, using the tip of the corrupted sword to draw sigils in the sand, then reaching out with his burning, shroud-wrapped hand to control the flow of his essence, the sand beneath those furthest back in the small contingent shimmering, shifting, but it would be another few breaths before he could finally finish the cast. -d-

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : [The world around them began to ripple, tearing apart like strips of paper to roll listlessly around the pair. Aabel’s breath came quickly now, the magical strength of the pale elf flowing freely from her hands to his, arching across his fingers deepening their maddened gesture. The Wretch, clawed hand still advancing for Sevasti, let loose some cackling growl, it’s pitch rising above the chaos of this sundered plane. Green lines of energy swept about Aabel’s waist, curling too around the slim hips of the woman at his side and anchoring them both together. The portal was opening, a shimmering glass door rising from the soil at their feet and carving the Wretch from their sight. The Magician wove his fingers with Sevasti and pulled her through the gate, his bare feet slapping floors of icy stone. Movement between barrier planes was always a disorientating task, and for the briefest of moments two worlds kissed through the thin membrane of the Magician’s paired will, where fog >

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум : Alright, I have to go. Thanks for playing guys. Have a great night! Wrath and Casim both have permission to NPC Ala. Feel free to make her hate life and have the shit beaten out of her. ))

Ʌlαυпєуl·Rוlупghум has left the conversation.

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : and firelight spluttered for permanence in a world momentarily devoid of air. Aabel, however, was accustomed to such sensations and wasted no time in turning back towards the portal and puffed his elegant cheeks, blowing out the open gate as one might would a candle... The ethereal glass dissipated quickly. Darkness and light returned to their rightful place around the pair, forming solid shapes of well-warded, ancient stone. He sighed carefully and drew grey eyes worriedly towards the Elf, “where are we?” ]

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : Clinging to Aabel, the pale waif held her breath, fearful of the future, of where they would end up, but severed from the Wretch, she trusted in Aabel to find them escape. Forcing her will into the spell, she felt the currents of the ether tickling across her senses as the portal opened, hearing the Wretch and it's howling falling away, almost laughing in relief. Suddenly there was no air to be had, her lungs finding nothing to draw on, and Sevasti's carmine eyes opened wide, heaving for breath as soon as it rushed in around them, collapsing into Aabel, clinging to him as the world ceased its dizzying shift. Her senses were adjusting now, the scent of hearth-fires and old stone informing her, the stillness of the air, the rug underfoot, and she looked around, heaving a great sigh and leaning into him. "We're in the palace," she breathed, looking around, trying to orient herself, "not far from my rooms. This way." Reaching for his hand, she drew him through a few -c-

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : -c- broad, darkened hallways toward her apartments in the royal wing, glancing over her shoulder several times as she led him as though at any moment the Magician might dissolve into nothing, wanting, needing him to be there. "It's no longer within you," she said as though convincing herself there was no threat in him, no risk, nothing to fear. Turning a corner, she stopped him short, holding his hand in the dark as several guards walked past, their voices hushed as they murmured between one another, then as soon as they'd passed, she led him to a high door in the hallway, left unlocked and unguarded, ushering him into the darkened space, the glow of a single guttering candle in another room filtering in through the curtained door. Once he was inside, she pushed the heavy door closed and leaned on it, running her fingertips along the woodgrain, activating long lines of newly painted wards that lit the room in a faint glow, securing them inside. The room around them was -c-

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : -c- a clutter of muslin-draped paintings and supplies, stacks of books that overflowed their shelves and created tall pillars on the floor beside, and at the center of the room, high on the wall, the portrait she'd painted of him so many decades ago, a close image of his face, a white eidolon reflected in his starry eyes. "How?" She managed to ask, "...what happened? How did it-?" -d-

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : :: Wrath was not easily intimidated and despite the overwhelming odds, he liked his chances. His confidence bolstered by the Archmage’s arrival. Although Casim had chastised the rogue actions of the Nephilim and Drow, the Prince-Regent saw things a little differently. The trio were amongst the best the Empire could boast of and despite the infernal nature of their adversaries, it hadn’t been the first time they’d faced their ilk. Seasoned veterans of the Belial Wars, the northern and southern generals were versatile fighters, whereas the Lich’s legendary spells would surely mitigate the greater dangers. Vaulting towards the nearest Tanar'ri as Wrath drove his sword into its chest, then twisting the hilt as the wide blade followed a vertical trajectory and split the creature in half. >>

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> Though a second was already on him. Wrath elbowing the nearest of these demonic-shock troops in the face, the steel armour he wore impacting with resolute force, enough to stun the second Tanar'ri. Clever footwork and smooth economy of movement had the warrior creating adequate distance, enough for his sword to wildly swing in a devasting arc. The vicious metal sinking deep into the monster’s collarbone, staggering from the raw force of the blow. Followed by Wrath’s tree trunk leg which lifted with explosive momentum, his big boot kicking it in the chest – the fiend collapsing into a shattered wagon as Wrath stalked after it. A devilish shriek as the Prince-Regent plunged Widow Maker into its black heart. >>

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> Though as quickly as Wrath slaughtered them, others replaced their number. Unfortunately for these wretched fiends, they hadn’t counted on Alauneyl’s razor-sharp accuracy, who was at her most dangerous when deemed an afterthought. An arrow piercing the eye of the third Tanar'ri, before the monstrous Deathstalker capitalised with another righteous swing of his weapon, cleaving the demon’s horned head from its shoulders. ::

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : Casim chanted beneath his breath, his focus becoming a single, killing point, and as he forced his will through the orichalcum edge of the sword, the shifting sands near the back of the shock troops began to blacken and grow foul, corrupted and hissing as it rose of its own accord, razor sharp particles taking the air, gathering speed and momentum before rising in tendrils that rose high over head in serpentine columns only to descend on those furthest from Wrath, driving deep into their unprepared lungs and eyes, stripping flesh from bone, gutting them from within as a horrific maw opened in the sand beneath them, swallowing them whole, entombing them in their struggling, suffocating deaths. Arrows hissed from Alauneyl's veteran touch, and finally the killing spirit was filling the Lich as he watched her work, casting mage-armor on her from behind as he darted forward into the fray, circling wide, away from the reach of the Prince's savage blade and began focusing -c-

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : -c- on the burning behemoth following the pack, setting wayward fires to the fallen as it passed, oily smoke rising up from it in a column of warning. Another Tanar'ri was closing, but Casim's attention was fixed on the biggest of the creatures, assessing it as the smaller Tanar'ri swung hard only for the Lich to step in and cram his shroud-wrapped fist into its open mouth, the sacred relic burning into his own palm immediately reacting to the touch of damned flesh, the demon's skull bursting with a concussion that sprayed Casim in black ichor as he began toward the minotaur-like creature, hearing arrows hissing through the air over his shoulder, taking down one of the Tanar'ri in his path. "I can only subdue that thing for so long!" He called to Wrath, the pain of the relic forcing him to unwrap it from his hand and fling it at the Prince. "For your off-hand!" -d-

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : [He Followed her lead, oddly distracted by her figure, so well-pronounced by the glowing sconces overhead. He swallowed away that sudden swell and resigned himself to the much more pressing issues at hand, his attention refocusing not on her hips, but instead on the strange and sudden series of events that brought them here. He took little notice of the space around him, he rarely did, yet her constant worried glances did take him somewhat off-guard. “Sevasti, I will not hur--” Aabel stopped short at Sevasti’s silent direction as the guards crossed the corridors ahead, his thin brows creasing with thought as he watched her every subtle facial cue. Why would she have to hide from her palace’s own guards? Unless her caution was not painted by self-preservation...? He remained silent until they entered her room, watched curiously the complex series of wards and pretending not to notice some uncomfortably personal loci.  >

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : When she spoke, Aabel sighed and shook his head, turning away from that bone-white face to inspect the features of her room. “I don’t quite know,” he began slowly, the answer still quite lost to him as well. “I was sleeping,” he ran his thumb along the spine of a book, using tactile sensations in attempt to solidify his wandering mind. “I didn’t want to, but felt compelled... The tree was very effective, my love.” His hands dusted across old tapestries, some he remembered from what felt like a lifetime ago. “I would never hurt you,” an honest sigh “but you are not safe... We are not safe. Not yet. It, like me, cannot be contained. We need a plan.” Aabel shook his head and turned slowly around the room, freezing mid-step the moment his grey eyes fell upon a looking glass. A curt cough and a vague cupping of hands proceeded his next remark, “Sevasti... Do you have a robe?” ]

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : grabbing a coffee, back in a few minutes! ]

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : It was a dream. She was convinced this was a fever-dream born of her hallucinations, even still, she wanted it to be true. Needed it to be true. His voice was like a balm to tired nerves, and she dwelt in it, hanging upon his every uncertain word, watching his tall, narrow shape in the little light as she sank down against the door, her knees beneath her chin as she gazed up at him in wonder and concern, trying to understand what had happened. "I didn't want to do it..." she whispered regarding the tree, putting him there, willing him to rest and renew himself, hoping that in time the Wretch would subside within him, "...it was the only way I could-" she hesitated, refusing to say the words 'survive you'. It hurt to think about, memories rising up out of nowhere as he considered the room around them, remembering him, remembering the Wretch, terror at this turn of events amalgam with her joy upon seeing him again, seemingly whole. -c-

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : -c- "A robe?" She asked, then blinked, seeing the way he shied from her, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. "Oh, of course." Hefting herself up from her slump against the door, she brushed past him in a stroke of warm fabric and into the curtained room with the candle, opening a cedar chest near the furthest wall, searching to the bottom, withdrawing a familiar garment preserved and kept intact for him from long ago. "I kept it..." she said, her back turned to him, "...I couldn't bear to let it go." Draping the peacock-bright fabric over one thin arm, she turned and approached, offering it out to him, her eyes on his face, his weary gaze, the line of his cheek, wanting so desperately to touch him...but this wasn't that moment. Not yet. Not until she knew she was safe. "A plan..." she said once he'd taken the robe from her, "...what do you know about it? Does it have vulnerabilities that we already know of, or are we forced to test it?" -c-

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : -c- Turning, she ran her palm across a low-slung sconce of jarred candles, lighting them with a spark of will, bathing the room in a clean, bright light. "I don't know how long I'll remain this lucid, Aabel...things have changed...I've become..." she struggled with the word, wishing it weren't true, "...fractured." -d-

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : [ Aabel was, in many ways, utterly incapable of understanding the breadth of damage he had wrought upon her. His entire existence hung between moments of frozen time, space and starlight bookending his collection of conscious experience. He had every memory she did and judging by the incredible magical guards and variable attention to her rooms order, probably recalled some things she had already let slip away. Aabel remembered the violence and pain, and despite the Wretch’s sadistic ways, the magician couldn’t help but acknowledge its creation was born of his own Will. The entities life was unintentional, of course, yet in some abstract reasoning a part of that thing was very much a part of Aabel himself. He mused on this silently as Sevasti brought his robe, the ornate and garish colours a merciful comfort to the tired man. Nodding in thanks, he slung it across his form, brass buttons pulling together the cloth which was once as comfortable as his own skin. He listened to her >

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : brb)

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : back, sorry was making my kids breakfast. ]

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : No worries m8.))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : speak, dusty eyes roaming the floor before him in quiet contemplation of her words. “It knows everything I would,” he responded slowly to those things he could easily answer, unsure how to encroach upon the subject of her clearly broken psyche. “It has been left in the aether, which I fear could only help its cause. We need... we need a tether. Something that binds life and un-life, something we can use to trap the Wretch in a place of our own choosing. But first we’ll have to weaken it”. The green-haired man rolled thin shoulders with fatigue, reveling in the quiet pop of bone and sinew which proved undoubtedly he was indeed alive. Slender fingers curled around the voluminous folds of his robes, feeling the outlines of so many empty pockets. “Where are you strongest?” he asked at length, thoughtful eyes pouring along that perfect face “When you slip away, is it to a place I am able to follow? I fear separate we may find ourselves in greater danger". ]

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : u wot m8. ]

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : YAAAAAAASSS HE SAID IT.))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : brb again, my dick cat is trying to get into the rice cooker)

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : he doesn't even eat rice.)

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : :: Wrath caught a glimpse of the Lich who cut his own volatile path through the enemy. The natural flow of the battle dictating their inevitable collision with the gargantuan abomination. The looming demonic-beast comprised of flame, with a monstrous floating skull serving as the closest approximation to a head. It was something conjured from the darkest recesses of man’s imagination, stomping with chaotic fury through the town, setting fire to corpses in its wake. Though a Tanar'ri Wrath hadn’t noticed, caught him off guard while distracted with its jagged axe, black metal colliding with the steel of his sword with such resounding force that Widow Maker was struck from Wrath’s hand. >>

Mazikeen has joined the conversation.

Mazikeen is away.

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> With no time to retrieve it, Casim quickly flung the shroud towards the Prince-Regent, which Wrath seized from the air. Immediately wrapping it around his large mitt and intended as an offhanded means of attack. Mimicking the actions of the undead Pale Elf, Wrath swerved one way then backpeddled another, cleverly avoiding the colossal blows of a minotaur-like creature who swung its club at him. A member of Immoten’s elite ranks, Wrath didn’t fancy his chances unarmed. That was until Alauneyl’s arrows plunged into its back. In desperation, the General grabbed at its horns to bring the demon’s head slamming into his knee. Then with the shroud wrapped around his fist, Wrath strode forward and used his long reach to throw a well-timed jab, shattering the minotaur’s orbital bone. Delivered with explosive strength into the side of the demon’s head, which immediately igniting with holy Light as the beast exploded. ::

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : He looked beautiful. Tired, worn down, but beautiful, as ever he had, and some part of her was that girl who'd fallen so in love with his childlike joy at the world, leaving letters for him hidden beneath cobblestones, her secret heart aching for him in quiet hours. But it felt too good to be true, a saccharine, sickly-sweet stroke of fear lingering in her as she looked at him, the body that once contained both himself and the Wretch, lips speaking its words, eyes seeing her through its lens. "A tether," she echoed softly, committing the concept to memory, hoping that when this moment of crisis-born lucidity ended she would remember it, heed his words as he gave them. "We'll find a way," she murmured, casting over so many possibilities, struggling to think of any one thing that might aide them. It would take time, and research, something that Aabel himself hadn't anticipated, though for the creature's vast knowledge it was hard to know what that single thing, or things might be. -

Rebekah has joined the conversation.

Rebekah is away.

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : -c- "My casting is strong," she said, "though I haven't used magic in many years...the selves, they-" she hesitated, trying to find the right words to describe it, falling short, "-they turned against me. Only in great crisis do they say more than prophetic nonsense, and all of it just comes pouring out of my mouth." Her madness was tied to the Selves and her discordance with them, it gave her Sight, it gave her Prophecy, but it came with such a sullen cost that it was scarcely worth it. "When I slip away, it is into a place of mind...my words become nonsense...I cannot make clear my will or my intentions. Casting becomes impossible. I become nothing but an empty vessel of nonsense." How long would this season of lucidity last? Rarely had she managed more than a few hours without falling prey to the curse the Wretch had bestowed on her, one that she knew, deep down, would not be relieved with its undoing...her course was set. She could see her self mad for -c-

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : -c- as many possible futures as existed. "Then we cannot separate. Linger here with me," Sevasti said, finally reaching for him, her warm touch encircling his wrist as though to keep him with her for all time, a mimicry of the night she'd asked him to marry her, and the foulness that had followed. -d-

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : It was a horror that stood on the battlefield before them, a Tanar'ri of immense proportions, a walking stroke of terror that daunted even the Lich himself on some mute level, and as he sized the thing up, an avenue to defeat the thing became clear...Wrath in front, him behind and casting, and Casim fell into rank beside the Prince, his sword drawn, chanting under his breath and pointing at one of the remaining shock troopers, watching a withering begin in its throat, its scaly hide blackening and falling into nothing, bewildered as it struggled to hold itself together in a plume of corrupted ashes. "I'll need time to cast," the Lich said over Wrath's shoulder, needing the Prince to buy him time as he drew a line in the sand with the edge of the blade, a few licks of the sharpened damascus creating a webwork of sigils that were his point of focus. Dark tendrils passed through the sand, surrounding the massive beast with a circle of blackened corruption, -c-

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : -c- rising up in threads of darkness that obscured the brightness of the flame it exuded in a darkening sphere of power. As the tainted, thaumaturgic words poured from the greater undead, that sphere grew in strength, tracking with the creature's movements, though it remained unrestricted as the orb grew in momentum, the Lich standing firm as the behemoth lurched toward them, its felled shocktroops only enraging it further, their fallen bodies around it bursting into balefire as it passed. Onward the Lich chanted, tuning out the hiss of arrows from their shoulder, aware of Alauneyl as she shot through the orb, the thick, barbed shafts of her arrows cutting deep into its scaled hide. -d-

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : [ He listened intently to everything she said, wincing as the strain of coherency made itself visible upon her face. He had, much to his disdain, never fully understood the function of the Selves. He imagined them very much like balls of golden light floating dizzily over her head, whispering secret things of past and present and everything in-between. “I will need to conduct some reading...” he spoke softly and took in her touch, long fingers curling with hers and pulling her to a soft embrace. His chin rested easily on her crown and cold tongue clucked in thought. He would need books. He had many once. Were they too buried somewhere in this dark and isolated space? “Sevasti...” he began to form a question, yet her name felt so heavy on his breath the ancient mage couldn’t bare to bring such words to life. Instead he simply sighed and kissed her snow-capped head, moving away in search of somewhere suitable to sleep. “Rest first. I will start looking in the >

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : the morning...” he paused briefly, regarding a water glass filled with what he presumed to be white sand atop a jaunty pillar of books. “Sevasti...” Aabel steeled his resolve and gently pushed some scrolls from a cluster of lounging cushions, falling happily into their comfort, “Please do not tell you brother I am awake".]

The▪Cimmerian has left the conversation.

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : Because we will THROW DOWN.)

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : Bring it, you big froofy fuck.))

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : Fight me, crypt keeper.)

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : :: Kicking his sword into the air Wrath grabbed at the handle and pressed ahead. One by one the numbers of the Tanar'ri were thinned, as were the hulking minotaurs brought down through the combined grit of Wrath and Casim. The Prince-Regent giving his uncle the required time to cast his dweomer as he advanced in the enemy’s direction, cutting into their path with savage precision. The flat of his blade slamming into a minotaur’s head before Wrath followed up with Martyr's Shroud. This time using an open palm which he pressed against its chest as more divine Light left an indelible handprint on the minotaur’s furred body, eviscerating another. >>

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : Gods, his touch. The blessing of his glance. It was so easy to let herself fall into him, into the once-stars of his eyes, and as he drew her into a blessing embrace, she slipped her arms around his narrow body and held him there, laying her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes. This is what she'd pined for, what she'd wept for over years upon years of time, grieving as a widow grieves, forever wondering if he'd ever rise again. Sighing heavily, pleasantly, she breathed him in, nodding when he suggested rest, for she felt so heavy, her mind threatening to swim with foreign vision and fractured thoughts. "We'll sleep then..." she began to say, but as they parted and he made his request, Sevasti stood silent for a moment, uncertain how to respond...lips of peach and coral parted as though to speak, then hesitated. "I don't want him to know..." she said softly, "...he's become a Prince here...I will keep him from knowing if I can help it, but we must be careful." -c-

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : >> What they hadn’t anticipated however was their Drow companion projecting the onyx figurine of a horse into the air -gifted by Drenai long ago- and summoning her hellish mount. Leaping into the saddle, Alauneyl galloping past them on her Nightmare Steed. Trailing green flames scorching the desolate terrain. Wrath realising in horror what she was doing, serving as an audacious distraction, crisscrossing the path of their only remaining threat.  The blacked clawed abomination trying in vain to stomp on the rider though to no avail. Wrath in hurried pursuit. Leaping onto a wagon and vaulting through the air with his sword outstretched, the blade driving towards the monster’s fiery heart. ::

Sεναsτı·Cryтιĸos : -c- "So careful, Aabel." As she watched the Magician settle into the cushions near her bookshelf, Sevasti smiled down at him wanly, wearily, glancing over her shoulder toward her chilly bed, finding it lifeless and empty. Once Aabel had settled himself, rather than leave him alone in her sitting room, the ivory waif crept into the cushions with him whether he objected or not. "I put you to sleep for so many decades," she whispered as she settled her cheek against his chest, curling to one side of him, her arm reaching out to drape over his waist, "and so long I dreamt of simply sleeping alongside you. Let me." -d-

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : so much love. Would be a shame if someone... fucked this shit up...)

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : Alauneyl was moving, darting past him, and Casim struggled to retain his focus despite the urge to call out to her, to stop her, but it would risk the spell failing, his concentration unable to be pulled away from the globe he was creating around the monstrosity bearing down on them. Seeing the cunning of the Drow's plan, Casim could only chant and watch as she mounted the nightmare steed and cut across its path, Wrath racing after her, throwing himself aloft, his blade upraised, it's killing tip crushing through the bony plates of the Tanar'ri's chest and forcing itself deep, the beast snarling in response, massive, fire-wreathed arms raising to deliver a hard blow downward just as the orb became coherent, a mote of darkness at its heart collapsing into itself, a wave of annihilation spreading from its core and outward, giving Wrath just enough time to tear his sword free and leap to safety before the sphere collapsed in on itself, the Tanar'ri's flames -c-

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн : night all)

Aᴀвᴇʟ·Dʀᴀɢoʀᴀн has left the conversation.

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : -c- extinguishing in a concussion that flattened the sand in a crater beneath and around it, deafening in its immensity as the creature was crushed within the sphere, the wet splintering of bone and mortification of flesh a grotesque refrain afterward. In the wake of this horror, the battlefield was silent save for the crackle of the remaining fires, the burning bodies of Tanar'ri and fallen man alike...leaving the three to stare at each other in silence, the Lich leaning on his sword, now driven into the sand, gathering himself after the powerful spell. "It's not often that I'm drawn into battle...I thank you for it," he admitted ruefully, "...now get your ass back to the palace. You shouldn't have come here. Either of you." -d-

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : thanks Uncle C. ]

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : I owe you. ]

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : You do.))

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ : -falls asleep on a rock- ]

Ɯɍλτн·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ is away.

Cαsιм·Ɗϵɑτђsταᴌᴋϵᴙ is away.

Rebekah has left the conversation.