Spirit Slime Event

[17:08] {NARRATION} The air was thick and gloomy - despite Gehenna's recent victories against Eidolon, a worse enemy encroached. All could feel it, the inexorable spread of the Star's influence.

The Dryads had it worst. The spirits screamed in pain as it pulled at them, trying to tear them into its own growing sphere. While this hadn't happened yet...

Such a thing was not impossible, were steps not taken.

A heavy moon hung over the air as shamans and tribesmen worked tirelessly to prepare the ritual to appease the wraith. Incense prepared, the minor rituals undertaken to pave the way, with only one ingredient missing. A worthy sacrifice with life to burn away the corruption.

A sacrifice which needed to be found. Rumor held that an Eidolonian Necromancer worked to spread the corruption further, moving in so deep as the swamp, while others claimed that the Dreadwoods needed to be pruned of demons and their kind, that the most powerful of their kind would make for powerful sacrifices in kind...

The moonlight above burned. There would not be enough time to track both.
[17:11] A hunt begins!

All around them were preparations of beautiful rejuvenation. Life-essence redirected from it's pursuits to the skies above to be brought back to the ground below.

Beautiful, but tiring.

"Remember why we do it all, kin."

The chieftain's voice rings out, the tell-tale accent carrying in the air with an eerie disquiet. Around him the shadows swirl, withering the land around as they do.

"Sickness encroaches from th'east. Tlazhotla, if not properly fed 'n protected, may fall t'corruption. If that happens? All th'tribelands die. Cruxiati, Atl, Vindictia." The name Adsila gave Ezmara is used out of respect for the woman who joins.

Normally withheld, but it wasn't time to poke anything when they're all working for a common cause. "We're doin' this for more then th'sake of th'hunt. For th'preservation of our very lands 'n homes.

'n it's gonna take some death. So steel y'selves. Don't let blood give y'second thoughts.

That very blood gonna bring life back t'us."

Be it willing or not.

Gathering the troupe of magi who had been so selected by the elder shamans of the tribes, young and old, Pasis turns to address.

"We got a few options, 'n I'll leave it t'ya. We can get a bigfish, or we can get a lot of small fish. Depends on what y'want t'swing at.

Eidolon got a man westbound who wanders too far, or we can gather a lot of th'Archon's kin t'th'north.

Life t'be taken either way, but I care not which. Have a flavor, hunters?"

The gilded mask of the sinmagi falls upon the group.
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:15] The avatar looms wordlessly for a time, listening to Pasis as he speaks, nodding only once.

"Sacrificial blood is weakened in it's own transference." Her voice rings out ethereal.

"It would be wise to find one 'big fish'." A soul so potent would indeed be very dangerous, but it would be easier by a huge margin in terms of the sacrificial rites needed.

The avatar's eyes shimmer.

"More fun, I would think as well." This bit was clearly added to appeal to the others. She was here on grim business.
(Adsila Coaxoch)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:17] 'Remember why we do it'.

Ohtli's undergone plenty of history lessons. She's learned the ways, learned their reasons, the methods for the madness. Possessed of the understanding of the task's purpose she was willing to come.

The Drakan knew little of Atl's chieftain, but she didn't have to in order to know the intent of the outing was pure. Sacrifice for the sake of continued survival, a hard necessity that willing hands had to do. By the Serpent, those willing hands may as well be hers.

She salutes the Chieftain and the ascended Dryad both, two taps of her fist over her heart, and dips her head out of respect. But not a bow. Never a bow.

"Whatever is best for the spirits I'll do. That's what I'm here for."

Adsila's offers of 'fun' don't resonate well with her. Ohtli enjoys her share of combat, as a warrior, but it is not why she's here.

"The two of you would know that more than I would."
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:18] Kazko trailed along with eagerness alongside the mighty Siren Pasis, and the crystal-laden Dryad. At his side was Ohtli, a girl he was much more familiar with than the other two, but was once again being given a chance to fight alongside. With a simple mind such as his lingering along the hunt, the Nagual seemed to only care about putting his instincts to the test. Here was where he could let loose...turn his brain off. Even moreso than usual, at least.

His nose perked up while Pasis gave them a briefing, already eager to seek out what would be a sacrifice for all of Gehenna. Beneath the light of the moon, Kazko smiled. With his faith in Ixchel, the radiance above brightened his confidence. With his tail swaying about eagerly, he clasped his hands together behind his back and rocked back and forth on his feet. Surely no way for a grown man to carry himself, but unlike Adsila, he was here to make fun out of things.

"Of course I'm gonna say we can slap a Necromancer! Those jerks are stinking up things way worse than demons are! If we can cut the Eidolon person down, I'm all for it!"
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:20] A big fish it is then.

"Y'talk for big game." The chieftain concedes, nodding to the group as the shadows swirl around them under Ixchel's moonlight. Bit by bit the shadows lick, as if concealing them in the depths of the night!

"I hope y'brought weapons fittin' of big game huntin'. Let us go, then."

Across his chest the chieftain makes a faint sign, an ancient and silent prayer to Ixchel before he turns, ushering the squad northwest.

Through the edges of the dreadwoods and deep into the swamp for sights of the dread necromancer of Eidolon...
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:20] Kazko exclaims, "Yeeeah! Y'ready, Ohtli?!"
[17:20] Ohtli says, "Mhm. Sounds like you are too."
[17:20] Ohtli says, "...This'll go better than with Ka'vas."
[17:27] {NARRATION} The air only grew thicker as they traveled towards the already corrupted land that the star had enveloped. The recent battles had invigorated it, and with losses on both sides, there was an abundance of stray bodies to siphon from.

The trail was picked up almost immediately by Adsila. The foul reek could be followed as easily as wagon tracks through a muddy road, though...

It didn't seem they'd quite found what they were looking for without issue. In the distance, undead could be seen, could be felt. Necrotic horrors and geists shambled, eyes unfocused, unaggressive. Among their ranks - A man in corroded armor, a man with a strange stave on his back.

A man with bound Gehennan prisoners among his camp.
[17:29] The avatar's eyes shimmer violently, as if an outside force acted upon them, shifting hues and tones with rapid displeasure.

Unspeaking, she looks to Pasis, and gestures to the man in the corroded armor. The gesture was clear.

'Do we engage?'
(Adsila Coaxoch)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:31] Sneaky sneak...

The trail of desiccation left behind by Pasis' presence is masked within the hunt--what little still grows wiltering and withering back to fertilizer upon the ground.

In the shadows he roams, like a cloud overcast by the light of the moon...

The golden lights behind the mask, radiating like the blazes of Huitzilopochtli, flicker as they gaze upon the figures.

Subtly?

Fuck'm.

The chieftain turns, gazing at the three in a weak gesture, ushering them forward.

"Afford no time.

Afford no cowardice.

Another display of power."
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:37] It's never been in Ohtli's forte to sneak, an agent of the Serpent rather than Ixchel's more covert, shadowy means.

That makes it all the better when they shift tactics. Their approach had been silent, now no longer. The sight of the Gehennan prisoners set aflame a keen sense of indignance.

If anyone had earned their death as a sacrifice it would be those who took their people as prisoners. There's less guilt involved with it that way.

The first sound she makes is that of her sword's serrated edge dragging along the lip of its scabbard, then the rush of wind as she charges in.

Subtlety has never been Ohtli's strong suit. This hasn't changed and very well may never.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:38] Kazko could level on that sense of direction. Like one might expect from a Nagual, he had his ways of sneaking about behind the others. It was easy to forget he was there, with his creeping toes and careful prowl on all fours. However, he stopped with Pasis, as soon as his slitted gaze met with the rotting, depraved group ahead. Just a whiff was enough to crinkle his nose in disgust. With some impatient flickers of his gaze between the leader of their expedition and the enemies in question, he waited for the chance to get moving...

...and when it was given, those blue hues lit up like it was his birthday. So many creatures out there, within the ranks, just waiting to be led to their deaths. So much blood to shed beneath the moon, where his patron spirit would see.

Another glance fell upon Ohtli, and it culminated in a sweet wink, before Kazko set himself up to pounce. As his winged partner surged into the open at Pasis' order, so did he, chains attached firmly to the nyeshk blades grasped in clawed hands. And, since subtlety was tossed to the wind...

"Let's GET IT!"
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:45] A voice - that was all that was needed to alert the Necromancer.

His fingers snapped, and the world turned upside down. Intangible force rippled out from the Necromancer in a wave. Those closest would find themselves hurled backwards from the unexpected force, while the Dryad that had remained behind would only be pushed on as if by a powerful wind.

"Impatient, and so willing to kill your own..." His voice was gnarled and hoarse, as though the mans very vocal chords had begun to rot. The presence radiating from him was purely malicious, despite the lipless grin he held.

"You don't try to free them, you don't even try to talk - you just charge." Those thrown would find themselves able to recover with no more injury to show than bruises.

"Go ahead - waste their lives." Undead claws and blades found themselves at the necks of the Gehennan prisoners, more than a dozen.

"Or maybe you can be..." His grin spread wider. "Reasonable."
(Drakovich)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:46] Adsila Coaxoch whispers: (I will stick to the back and pick up peeps when they fall.)
[17:47] Adsila Coaxoch whispers: (Stay close to the healtree if you need health.)
[17:48] bop..

Into the air the chieftain goes, sliding against the ground as he takes a knee to steady himself.

The gilded gaze rises higher towards the necromancer.

"Weakness.

They'll join th'sacrifice too. All will.

Souls for Tlazhotla, born again into th'ground."

The chieftain rises, pointing forward.

"Again. Go."

If they died? Their bodies can still be brought to Tlazhotla; they were but vessels of energy for the engine that the wraith was.

The very engine that brought life to Cruxiati at all.
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:54] Kazko was already letting his chains sweep the field--perhaps only some of the limping undead about would be felled in the beginning of his charge, but the Nagual only paused when he heard the Necromancer's voice exchange with Pasis. Of course, just like the Chieftain, there apparently wasn't much care for the prisoners. Did that make him as bad as the people who had taken them behind bars?

Not in the least.

Sacrifice was more important. What were they willing to sacrifice the most? Those of their own who lived. Perhaps, Kazko considered, they weren't ready to die--but their strength would not be put to waste, if they were lifted into the hands of Tlazhotla.

"Go ahead! Whatever you do to those people...you'll get a THOUSAND times worse...!" He bellowed, letting his charge continue through the ranks.
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:57] Ohtli, briefly, hesitates as the undead start to lift weapons to the necks of the helpless prisoners. Pasis' orders, though no doubt born of utility, strike her as cruel in the moment.

They were their people. They couldn't just be discarded so casually.

She can't let Kazko charge in alone either though. It's a predicament she doesn't want to face, but there it is, right in front of her.

While whispering a soft prayer onto the winds to the Serpent herself, Ohtli follows after the Nagual and right for the necromancer. Her advance isn't entirely single minded as she tries to knock about undead on the way with blade and gusts of wind. Whatever of the Gehennans she can free from the claws of corpses will be a victory in her mind, a smaller one on the path towards the larger sacrifice of the occultist responsible for this mess.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:59] The avatar sits on the backlines, shooting brutally sharp crystals and blinding speeds into the undead as they would attack her comrades.

Thick fog saturates the battlefield.

An ethereal humming sounds, and massive trees, vines, and even the grass turn themselves upon the undead menace.

It seemed the avatar was quite upset.
(Adsila Coaxoch)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:04] Well - that was that.

Ohtli's efforts were valiant - but sadly not nearly enough. As soon as Pasis spoke, the zombies and geists had struck, impaling through throats and chests. Not in vain, though, as she saved two of the prisoners from an untimely death.

Corrupted cosmic energy rippled out from the necromancer, who merely grinned and directed his stave towards the oncoming foes.

"The hard way, then."
(Drakovich)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:08] They were all just bodies for Tlazhotla.

"Aye. Th'hard way."

Brandishing Kazzar, the vampiric blade, the chaos magi channels against the undead!

Bit by bit the energy of the damned are siphoned, their muscles withering away under the brunt of Chaos as the squad rushes in...

...and Pasis? Well, just to stack the deck a bit more, he continues to absorb the undead's stamina more!
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:12] Two. Two more than there would've been, but it wasn't enough. She felt the sting of failure as the undead ravaged the others cruelly. Maybe there might have been merit in subtlety, in the quiet approach she was so unused to.

But thinking about this too much now was only going to lead to her own death. She's resolved not to be added to the bodycount of offerings to the wraith. Not today, anyhow.

Though her prowess pales in comparison to the Chieftain, to the Dryad, and probably even the Nagual, she gives no less than her all and dives into the fray with her sword brandished.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:16] Kazko took his role in this hunt more seriously than he let on. As fun as it was, there would be no losing this. He needed to defeat this bastard...not only for Tlazhotla's sake, nor because Ixchel himself was watching over, but because he had to protect Ohtli, this time. He'd seen her in harm's way more than once without his blades to help her in a fight, but today would be different. The sound of metal singing through the air accompanied every swing of his chained blades in the dreaded Necromancer's direction.

"That's RIGHT! ACTION! NO TALKING! C'MON!"
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:19] {NARRATION} As the necromancer was battled - something else happened. Hateful, chaotic energy seemed into the bodies of the prisoners, the bodies that had been left behind.

And they rose.

The small group of undead that followed the Necromancer became a vicious army.

And as one, they began to attack.
[18:26] {NARRATION} Corrupted cosmic energies and roaring flames raged against the blades of the Gehennans, scorching away the vines and turning dirt and mud to baked clay and stone.

But, it was one against four. Even empowered by the deaths, empowered by the Star, he could not hold them all back. The shambling horrors fell to blades, flames and cosmic energy fading away as his mana ran dry -

Until Drakovich was rendered helpless by the Gehennans.
[18:30] Undeath dies.

Bit by bit the bodies of the damn rot and decay, each blow from the chieftain tearing flesh from sinew and turning once perfect white bones to horrific, blackened shards of marrow.

Wisps of shadows lash out wickedly against the children of the damned, plunging deep into their 'hearts' and shambling them against the ground as the chieftain strikes again and again at the horde.

Over and over again until, finally, lost admist the myriad of bodies that the squad had collected did he finally strike upon the right body.

Whatever it be, living or dead, empowered or ruined, it was still powerful enough. With the combined might of the three tribes the wicked fiend was felled.

Along with the horde of the damned.

"Good.

Fittin'ly enough, I 'spose. Grab th'bodies. Each one. Use some nets if y'need." Did they bring nets? Surely they brought other tribesmen that could lessen the burdenof dragging the corpses, living and dead, back. "Rid'm of any belongings 'n haul them all back t'Tlazhotla. Rituals, aye? Each one still got power remainin'.

Oh, 'n better yet..."

Reaching down upon the Necromancer, Pasis forces it's mouth open and grasps against the sniveling tongue.

The tongue that, on contact, begins to rot and decay down to a atrophied, ruined muscle.

"No screamin'. Need none of that."

Back to the homeland they go!

Pasis himself, as odd as it may be, seems to take little care himself on looting the bodies, focusing instead on bringing the full brunt of Gehennan corpses, undead bodies and the necromancer back...
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:38] The battle is won, the Necromancer's corpse sags in defeat, and the horde is vanquished. Only a pause is taken to revel in the victory. She flicks a pungent ichor from her sword and stalks to fields quickly after the battle, searching.

It's minor insubordination at best; once the din of battle subsides and Ohtli finds herself whole, unharmed, her first priority is seeking out the two that managed to escape the first wave of undead claws...If they are still alive. The signs of life are what she seeks first and foremost.

Only then does she do her part in helping gather up the bodies, wrinkling her nose against the lingering stench of rot and decay. The bodies of the natives that fell are held with care. The bodies of the undead? They're held with less reverence but still some small semblance of respect.

Looting the bodies? It doesn't sit much well with her either, and priority still rests with getting what remains back home safe or prepared for sacrifice. That is not to say she does not glance over the ruins for a prize of some sort out of the conflict.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:41] Kazko let his wildness go unchecked. The more corpses that rose from the grounds, the more meat there was to cleave. It was easier for the Chieftain and Ohtli to focus on the Necromancer himself while the Nagual focused on helping rid the field of undeath. Every now and then, he could throw a harsh blow from their enemy's flank, slashing through the powerful defenses. They truly were outnumbered--by high-powered magi, no doubt. The strength of the four combined was perfect.

Without a word, but some growls and hisses, the Nagual did his duty as he was committed to by Ixchel. While not controlled by the Betrayer himself, there was no doubt these pitiful creates wrestled from their rest were a stain on the planet. They turned to his prey, and suffered for it. With he beast he always kept on the other side of his smile, he tore into the legions and their master. Tooth, nail, and blade--all dedicated to ripping them all apart.

By the time he calmed down, Kazko was bloodied--but very little of it was his own. If he had faced this trouble on his own, he would have been killed. However, Adsila, Pasis, and even Ohtli were here. There had been nothing for him to fear.

"Heeh...haa..." He chuckled, heeding the words of the mightier Chieftain. "Aye!"

With a hop and a skip, he skidded to a stop next to Ohtli, still riddled with the deathly scent of death, and casually gave her a pat on the back between her wings. A deadly hunt had finished, and this man was trotting around like it was time for a party.

"Good job, Ohtli...you're really the warrior you want to be."
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[18:43] {Item} You drop Torch.
[18:43] {Item} You picked up Corroded Chestplate.Dropped by Drakovich. .
[18:44] {Item} You picked up Corroded Leggings.Dropped by Drakovich. .
[18:45] {Item} You drop Poppylus x1.
[18:45] {Item} You picked up Ethereal Shaft.Dropped by Pasis. .
[18:45] {Item} You drop Ethereal Shaft.
[18:45] {Item} You picked up Poppylus.Dropped by Ohtli. .
[18:53] {NARRATION} The tribesmen, finally called upon by their leaders, brought forth nets and manacles to carry back the bodies, still living and dead, of the undead and their master. Drakovich struggled and screamed, as his tongue was rotted away, gagging viciously when his ability to speak was stolen.

It was time to return to Tlazhotla.

The moonlight waned, with only precious few hours before the ritual would lose its potency in this magical night. There was little time for anything else, and with their sacrifice in check, there was little reason to delay.

The altars were prepared as the Wraith paced anxiously in its place. A Dryad warned that the corruption was growing stronger - a fact that Adsila could easily confirm herself. The mere presence of the star corrupted Necromancer only made matters worse.

All that was left were the finishing touches, and the ritual itself.
[19:01] "Make y'selves useful. I don't expect much, but y'should know how sacrifice go."

Contrary to Adsila and the other shamans, Pasis wasn't the most spiritual.

He was a hunter. He was a plague. A parasite, withering against the vibrant veins of life that thrum through the earth, taking his fill.

This, in a grand regard, wasn't just for Tlazhotla's sake but for his own too--a tax paid for how deeply he had drunk from the essence of life around him over these years.

Eidolon was the very real threat, but somewhere inside he found a light, almost enlightening repentance with the sacrifice.

"No matter how little it be, any effort helps."

That said, Pasis himself?

He were no Gehennan by birth. He were no shaman. He were no ritualist.

By far and large, he simply acted as an accessory.

The shadows that once cloaked the gathering hunters in their trip outbound fade from their forms. Now no longer cloaked in shadow, they find themselves bathed in Ixchel's light above.

Light that, seemingly, grows brighter by the moment.

Tlazhotla's shadow fades, scurrying to the sidelines.

The shamans, too, find their shades vanishing as if banished.

Pasis', Kazko's, Adsila's and Ohtli's.

The entire ritual finds itself illuminated with the heavenly moonlight that lingers above.


That, it seemed, was the extent of Pasis' assistance directly.

Beyond, one by one, setting the scene for each undead body, withering their bodies enough for Tlazhotla to effortlessly feast.

Be it bones from the damned, the muscles of the necromancer, or the flesh of the dead (or still living) Gehennans captured.

The raw invocations seemed left to another...
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:06] The avatar nods, gesturing to Pasis, Ohtli, and Kazko respectively, then to the bodies.

"Please, take the time to form the bodies into a complete circle."

She floats as a feather on the wind to the necromancer, and her claw shoots into it's throat, and slowly begins to absorb the life's blood, the claws slowly become a sanguine blooded shade.

Fireflies would begin to dance about, and an unnaturally warm and humid breeze would fill the air, circling around the avatar.
(Adsila Coaxoch)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:11] Kazko doesn't even take the time to clean up. He's...arguably in much of the same position as Pasis, in terms of ritual knowledge. His only real sacrifice to Ixchel was in the form of a corpse's consumption to take in the spirit's blessing. Thus, as Adsila's elder knowledge was brought to the forefront, he followed her lead.

"'kay! Hey, Ohtli! Don't mess up!" Teasing her, of course, he took a corpse in each hand, dragging them about to move them about the wraith in Cruxati's center. The Nagual didn't make a show of it, just arranging them with one flop after the other to make things right and proper to make a full-on sacrifice. As he passed by Pasis, he even shot the Chieftain an innocent smile, seemingly in thanks for letting him come along for this wonderful hunt. Of course, the scents of dead flesh surrounding him...

...still made him think of theday a man's flesh tore into his teeth.

It was a night he still remembered very fondly.
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:21] Ohtli is still only slightly out of her depth, but she has her part to play. Ixchel in the moon above that lit all of the area with a pale, lunar glow.

While she has no hard and fast ritual knowledge either it only seemed proper for her to be there as a servant of Quetzalcoatl; if the young woman truly intends to be the Serpent's priestess it's fitting to play some part in the sacrifice, however small it might be.

She closes her eyes, focuses, and a soft breeze flows with liquid ease through the sight of the sacrifice to be. It takes with it, as it passes, some of the stench of rot and decay from their nostrils, leaving clean, invigorating air in its wake.

The Drakan rolls her eyes but smirks at the Nagual's ribbing. Ohtli helps to arrange the bodies in the ritual circle. Each one is arranged with care among its brethren, then a single, seafoam colored feather lain on each of their breasts. With their faces pointed upward the moonlight is reflected in the eyes of the dead. For every corpse, as she passes and prepares the sacrifices, there's a whispered prayer.

Quetzalcoatl herself worked to trick Chaos and imprison it alongside her fellow spirits. Here and now Ohtli works diligently to keep that very Chaos at bay.




(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:35] And thus it was.

"Aye. A circle."

Just as done by Ohtli, each touched with a faint feather upon them to guide the spirit through back to whence they came.

It's not long until they're all arranged, and it's even shorter of a time before Pasis realized that, indeed, all eyes were on him.

Weren't there others who were able to ritualize? Or did his status as chieftain simply beget he be the one to do so?

From the hip, then.

"From th'west," Speaks the chieftain, slowly walking around the moonlit circle bit by bit. Each step comes a plodding echo, leathered steps casting deep into the brilliance of the silvered light above. "We battle a threat of grave proportions. Th'very swirling destruction that plagues th'homelands, that we come here t'bring th'shards of divinity back t'cure.

We battled it there. We battle it here."

Pasis' hand raises, beckoning the two to follow with him. Slowly, softly, like the seconds hand of the clock. "Each battle is a demonstration. Of power, superiority. Of faith, of spirits.

Tlazhotla, guardian of these jungles.

Tlazhotla, spirit that gives life around!

We offer t'ya, under Ixchel's moon with Ixchel's blessin', th'damned that plague these lands. Corrupted husks of damnation and dessication, ruiners of th'world.

Accept their sacrifice back t'th'earths below."

From his pocket Pasis procures a small pinch of fire-sand, a bit given to the two hunters that joined.

With a weak gesture, he urges them to follow suit.

"Accept their deaths so life can come again."

A pinch of the firesand is tossed into the nearby brazier in the square! With it, an eruption of flame follows upwards for a brief moment.

Kazko and Ohtli are expected, too, to toss as they pass.

"Accept our triumphs as th'triumphs of nature against th'profane."

As he passes against the secondary brazier, another pinch of sand is tossed.

Another eruption of flame, illuminating the air.

"Accept not jus' these, but th'many t'come. Th'enablers of th'Morninglord, th'crawlers of th'night. Th'creatures of th'damned.

Each torn asunder in y'name.

Feast, Tlazhotla.

Devour 'n become whole again."
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:45] By and large the Drakan follows the Chieftain's lead. Waiting and listening as he speaks the words aloud. She takes the offer of firesands and paces behind him, sprinkling some of the silt into the flames and fanning them with her wings to drive the fire higher.

Ixchel has two voices here, in the Chieftain and her Nagual ally. It falls to her to add her own. She speaks, only after the Elder finishes, adding to the chorus.

"In the name of the Serpent's fury, I help offer you sustenance, great Spirit," she adds, keeping a cadence with a beat against her chest as she marches behind the others and salts the fires.

"Complete the cycle. Take sustenance from their deaths so that we may live. As nature intends. More will come until we draw our last breaths."

She has very little idea of what she's doing, but in accordance with what comes to her on the winds it feels right.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:51] {NARRATION} The shamans did their work, the Dryads preparing to commune with the Wraith - but the final lead came to Pasis, as the residing chieftain.

Bright, shining moonlight lit the square with its intensity, a spotlight in a show. A show that Pasis had performed well. As he spoke, Gehennans chanted. Spiritual magic built, rising through the atmosphere, giving a strange feeling of otherworldlyness.

Soul felt disconnected from body, sensation from reality. Almost dreamlike, in sensation. Drums followed with Ohtli's cadence, her own role undiminished despite her inexperience. It seemed the intent was more important than the action.

But something was wrong. The dream felt fuzzy and lacked clarity. Bodies were devoured by the wraith, each one adding to the ethereal sensation being experienced, and yet...

It didn't seem enough. A strange tar-like substance leaked out from the paws of the Wraith as it feasted upon the final body, as it consumed the Necromancer, solidifying into something new...

Something dangerous. A voice called out. "We need more blood! Living blood!" Knives were produced, an attempt at bloodletting made.

Did those present partake?
[19:57] That's not good...

It was again Pasis' turn to be unsure. Living blood?

Did they truly?

There's the faintest bit of hesitation that follows the chieftain, glancing around the gathered circle.

Hadn't Ohtli gathered a few men, saved from the Necromancer? Just a scant few?

...Well.

"Follow as dictated!" The chieftain commands, his voice carrying an imperial authority. A sacrificial knife taken, and to the backs of the 'living' once-prisoners are they slashed.

Little more then a flesh-wound, their death not yet on the table.

But on each, blood flows.


...And the chieftain isn't wholly selfish about it.

Rolling an arm back, he reaches deep and carves a deep slash off his mutated, lumpily-muscled arm to draw blood upon the ritual circle, flowing like the rivers towards Tlazhotla.

"Give it what it needs! It's more important than anythin' else here!"


(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[20:01] There's a call for blood and, even before Pasis commands it, she's scrambling for a small knife that she stows at her belt. It's not meant for anything quite so elegant as a ceremony, but it will suffice.

The Chieftain's word only seals it. The order is given and the spirit must be sustained. Must. A quick, bracing breath and she drives the little cutting dagger deep into her arm to open veins.

For her people, for the sake of the spirits, Ohtli bleeds freely and without question. As much as is needed, no matter how it might affect her.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[20:04] "Woah...the wraith is really thirsty..." Kazko made a rather obvious comment loud enough for everyone to hear. On hearing that cry for blood, the Nagual was certainly on his way to the rescued prisoner's under Ohtli's charge. However, it was not just their bodily fluids up for sacrifice.

Kazko knew he would have to join them. If Ixchel was still watching him, even if it wasn't to the mighty feline in the moon, he had a sacrifice to make of his own. Not just from the lives and blood of others. He had to show his devotion went beyond his own deity, but to the cause his people stood for. For the goodness of his land.

The pain he felt wasn't enough to make him regret the gash he placed into his flesh at the chief's behest. Deep, dark crimson was held over to join the others in wounding, and miraculously enough, he did so--still with a smile on his face. In the same arm on himself as Pasis and Ohtli had, he gave some of him unto the Wraith. There was much more importance to it, than Kazko himself. Even one such dunce as him could know it.
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[20:14] {NARRATION} Blood.

Some call it the currency of life. It certainly has its uses, both symbolic and physical. The blood of both mortal and magi flowed towards the wrath as those present were cut, mixing into a strange slurry. Its head reared back, the dream-like state growing clearer.

The ooze continued to flow from its feat, and now from its mouth, congealing, collecting, until-

The Wraith's physical form collapsed to the side, and in its place? The strange amalgam of mana and spiritual energy. Corruption seethed from its form, enough so that all three could feel the horrific presence.

Despite the threat, the bleeding was not lightly done. Some had more to give than others. Kazko was lucky - the Wraith did not feed strongly on his essence, and while he bled, he was not severely weakened for it.

Ohtli's blade had cut deeper. Her blood ran thick even after the Wraith had drunk his fill, and she would find herself hard-pressed to do battle in the near future.

And Pasis... His blood, his mana had been found tantalizing by the Wraith. It had been drawn even more, ripped from him. He would find himself lucky to be alive, as it tried to add him to the list of Sacrificial candidates!
[20:20] ** Spooky Narrator has inflicted an injury upon Ohtli. ("Drained Blood", "A great deal of Ohtli's blood had been drained to feed the Wraith of the Cruxati, and while she would recover, for the immediate future, she'd find herself weak.", "Temporary", "Duration: Short (1 day)") **
[20:25] Blood.

So much blood!

Was it the power in his that drew itself to the wraith so? The vibrant power within the Strigoi's flesh that caused the wraith to drink so greedily, so deeply?

It takes--it steals.

Try as he might, the chaos magi can barely restrain himself as he finds himself drained of his most vital essences, ripping himself away at the last moment before the finality of his lifeblood is fully robbed.

Pained, wracked breaths overcome him.

Half-lidded eyes gaze forward as he peers upon the spiritual creature, corruption manifested.

Were they too late?

Had they not been in time?

Eidolon--had they won?

Shakily rising to his feet and clinging to his blade, the chieftain cries out in a rage. Chaotic energies throw themselves at the spiritual essence, Pasis himself desperately trying to retake his energies from it.

Instead, the spirit simply begins to decay.

"Banish--"

The chieftain shakes, the air around him most dire and deathly. "--banish that spirit 'n return Tlazhotla t'wholesomeness. Purify it at any costs.

At least sunder it's connection! Best it! Force it into submission!

Take--"

The blade slashes through the air, a cut of dire rot flowing towards the spirit. "--what it took from us 'n make Tlazhotla pure again!"
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[20:27] The knife dug deep. In her haste it went deeper than it should have, but all was done for Gehenna's sake, for its prosperity. Her head is already light, as if she were somewhere in the fragile land between the waking world and sleep. Blood loss makes her dizzy.

She has fought much for her people and that loss only joins her other injuries in weakening her.

Ohtli wavers, she wobbles, and it occurs to her this might not be as it's supposed to. No true magi, yet she can feel the corruption washing over her in waves, emanating from what was once the Cruxati wraith.

This was meant to be a ceremony of giving, of sacrifice. Not of thievery. A dishonor, a curse, whatever this thing is.

On unsteady feet the young Quetzal rises, her blade back in her non-dominant hand. She looses a wordless battlecry and starts a charge for the thief. Its victory may cost them something dear if it comes to pass.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[20:35] Kazko, in his attempt to satiate the Wraith with his own essence, swiftly re-wrapped his bloodied bandages from his wrist about the space where he'd severed his own flesh. However, this wasn't so easy for his companions--there would be something worse waiting for them. His luck had likely run out, and he could still feel the corruption beaming on his face like deathly sunlight from the creature swelling in front of him.

However, his first worry came toward Ohtli--why her?! No more...! The reason he'd done this was to protect people like her from harm. And yet still, before he could even think to rush to her side to ensure her safety, the flying dragon had already set her sights on an enemy.

And Pasis--oh, the Chieftain had it worse. Much worse. It looked like the powerful man had been stolen from the most. There was no telling what would happen if their most experienced and strongest warrior was put into a weakened state...

It would settle things on the Nagual.

He didn't even have to think, before his weapons were drawn yet again. Kazko had been prepared to celebrate after a successful hunt. To spend time reveling in the empowerment of their almighty Wraith. But this thing was in the way. Quite the eyesore, it was.

Fangs bore, and an uncharacteristically frustrated expression took over his amicable countenance.

"I'll RIP YA TO SHREDS!" Rage boiled over, his final words before battle garbled in gutteral growls. Feral wrath drove him to the manifestation of corruption gathered from the Wraith itself. This would be a battle for more than just he and his allies. It would be a battle to save their tribes.

Defeat wasn't an option--no matter their odds.
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[20:36] {NARRATION} With the blood taken, the Wraith had managed to put up a stronger fight. Despite the fuzzy gloom that hung over the air - it was weaker. The essence of corruption, whatever it was, had not been immune to the ritual, and infact...

One might even think that the ritual had forced it to show itself. Like cutting a parasite from its host.

Eyeless, mouthless, the strange ooze-like creature looked towards the Gehennans and began to shamble over, ooze rotting away at the stonework. One of the Dryads gave a scream and doubled over as vines sprouted from the ground to wrap around them, while other tribesmen were suddenly engulfed in corrupt magic.

The ground rumbled and roiled as the manifestation trundled forward...
[20:45] ** Corrupted Wraith has inflicted an injury upon Ohtli. ("Permanent Injury", "Permanent Injury", "Permanent", "Severity: MODERATE (-20 Vit)") **
[20:49] {NARRATION} The Wraith was the entire purpose for the ritual, and as important as it was, one could only imagine the power of something that could parasitize off it.

Telekinetic energies, the result of being exposed to so many sacrifices, of being the centerpiece of so much death, roiled out, hurling those that battled it aside. An army of barbed vines, dripping with venom, tore away as it pulled and sucked them towards itself.

Unlucky tribesmen were pulled into its embrace, consumed by this pure corrupted essence.

It couldn't be allowed to continue on like this. It had to be stopped.

No matter the cost.
[20:51] It's not just Tlazhotla that rampages.

Pasis, too, does.

Like a wild demon he strikes, desperately leeching the lifeforce from Tlazhotla's shadow. A shadow so thick, so profane and powerful that his manipulation of the darkness that hides from Ixchel's light is no good.

Only his blade was.

Again and again the hungry, serraded blade strikes. Each blow infused with the very chaos that Tlazhotla rebukes against, each blow hungering for more. The shade's essence, bit by bit, becomes withered and decayed, evaporating away into the blessed night's sky.

But no matter how many strikes are delivered--

--no matter how hard they strike--

--it always seemed as if there was more to go. The corruption to the west had infused too deep into the roots of the world and now they were the ones to pay the price.

They had been too slow in acting, and this was their penance.

A blast of energy takes Pasis away forjust a moment, clinging to his blade as he drives it into the earthen stoneworks of Cruxiati's square for support.

"Don't--" He cries, coughing up blood behind the mask. "--yield!

Continue! Even if it costs y'life!"
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[20:57] Kazko, reduced to little more than a wild jaguar that walked on two legs, was tangled in battle. A battle without end--and one he felt responsible for. It was dangerous. It was threatening. But most of all...

It was fun.

Getting into these stressful, endlessly frightening situations was what he always wanted. It was the thrill of adrenaline flying through his veins that kept him going. He'd bled for this once already, and was only suffering even more through this battle. This war for Gehenna against corruption itself...was one they wouldn't lose.

And yet, Kazko was down, pushed back by the fur of his tail against this beast. Desperately, he yanked his weapons back into his grasp. Boots anchored into the grass, and he spat into the greenery. The stakes were too high for him to stay down.

He could still hear Pasis. He could still feel Ohtli. That was good...they were still with him. But he didn't know if he could take punishment like that again...

But there he went, pouncing again, a primal roar of sorts thrown from between his teeth. It wasn't over until he couldn't move.
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[20:58] The wind Drakan is batted aside by the concussive, telekinetic force, only to be reeled back in when the corrupted essence reaches out with its thorny tendrils to grab at her, to reel her in.

She thrashes, she flails, she fights, but she's lost blood. So much blood, in this battle and the raid of Eidolon on Cruxati. Ohtli is far from her peak. The Chieftain and the Nagual boy are safe. Many others are not, and she can hear their screams all too clearly.

With giving up there is certain death. They can't stop, none of them can, or else there will be consequences far beyond their passing from this world and into the next. It will not stop with them and she knows it.

If it must be, she prepares to make the ultimate sacrifice, her own life. Instead of fighting against the pull of the vines she lets them pull her towards the mass of corruption with the tip of her sword pointed for its center.

Better it be her life, if any life at all, then the lives of Gehenna as a whole being put at jeopardy because of cowardice.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[21:17] {NARRATION} The battle continued, consuming more of the Cruxati square. Slowly, and steadily, one could see that it was growing weaker. The essence of corruption, already forced out by the ritual, already weakened by Sacrifice and Bloodletting, was losing its grip on this world.

But it refused to go down lightly.

Even as Gehennan spears and blades pierced its oily flesh, as fire and arrows peppered it, as the three Magi did battle, it fought back.

Kazko caught a full tendril of its might, flung like a ragdoll through the wall of a building. The crack of broken bones could be heard, as it continued on, losing essence.

Its will was gathered for a final, climactic strike, a shattered piece of lumber lifted with telekinetic might and hurled at Pasis with a fury, before the essence was finally brought to a screeching halt.

Time seemed to freeze, in the fugue state, with Ohtli just close enough to intercept the spear -

if she wished.
[21:21] Ohtli knows little of Pasis. Most of what she knows is the day's hunt alongside him and the others, as well as a few things passed through word of mouth. Not much at all.

In that single moment, the Drakan is given clarity. Whether it be blessed by the Serpent herself or otherwise, several things occur to her all at once.

The Wraith had already drank deep of the Chieftain's essence. An important figure, and a crippled one if the spear of lumber hits true. With the looming war, the need for sacrifices and leadership, she cannot tolerate standing by and watching him taken such a grievous wound.

A blur of fluttering seafoam, she doesn't even have time to apologize as she bowls into the Siren and takes the injury that otherwise would have hit him squarely.

She grits her teeth and prepares for the worst, come what may.
(Ohtli)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[21:24] It drank too deeply.

Pasis fell to the same curse.

Too hungrily he swung his blade, drinking in the essence of Tlazhotla's shroud. Too greedily he dug his arcane majesty into the spiritual hide of the creature, tearing from it the threads of it's foundation and withering away it's essence into the air. Too often and too reckless he struck again and again in a desperate effort to bring it back to the natural order.

But, perhaps ultimately, he was the least keen on delivering that final resolution to it. A sin magi! A chaos magi! What grand intentions had he with the spirit? How could something so foundationally attuned to the the earth accept it's help so readily!

Sibri, chaos as he may be, was still a dryad.

What was Pasis but a corrupted, tainted fish?

Over and over he strikes with reckless abandon, and by the time the proverbial hammer had risen to finally cull the chieftain once and for all, it was too late.

Never was he quick enough to avoid it.

Justice, it seemed, had finally come for him.

. . .

There was no justice in this world.

It was the lesson that flashed trhough his mind, a lesson taught ever since the first bounty Tragedy had given him for his defection from Ikkaku's ardent. From the wealth he received killing in her name. From the power that Atl had given to him and from the spiritual curses he had brought upon himself for power.

Even if Pasis could have outwardly reacted, he was too slow to; Ohtli's equally reckless crash sends Pasis flying by, narrowly avoiding the wicked splinter of wood.

Ohtli, likely, less lucky.

Even the light touch Ohtli gives to the Siren seems to burn lightly, her flesh becoming irritated...

...not that it was something to fixate on as, very likely, she finds herself impaled by the stake.

Thump...

Pasis himself, inevitably, crashes lightly against the ground with a light bonk, barely able to turn his golden mask towards the woman as she takes the blow.

Her image is lingered on for just a moment before he shifts back towards the wraith's carnal spectre, slowly conjuring a final arcane blast to put it to rest...
(Pasis)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[21:30] ** Spooky Narrator has inflicted an injury upon Ohtli. ("Impaled", "Ohtli would find herself viciously impaled with a spear of broken timber.", "Permanent", "Severity: MODERATE (-20 Vit)") **
[21:33] Kazko had done it in as far as he could, and soon enough, there's a waver in the creature's stance--or, what could be 'called' a stance. He's too busy striking at it with bloodletting intent before it falters. It wasn't due to his power alone, however...the Chieftain, and his companion Ohtli, had their share in this corruptive glob's downfall.

But at what cost?

Before he could make a difference in the battle's end, Kazko wasn't on the battlefield anymore. A concussive gravitational blast forced him away, barreling the carnal fighter through the stone of a building. Thankfully the building itself was not prepared to fall, but the Nagual wasn't going to be getting up after that. He'd already spent blood and spilled some of his own in the fight to begin with, but he's taking a harsh one from this fight all the same.

...he wasn't even there to witness Ohtli's sacrifice, or Pasis' finishing push on their enemy. By the time he crawled through the rubble, battered and bruised, everything was far past the end.
(Kazko)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[21:42] {NARRATION} All at once, the haze lifted. It was as though they'd awoken from a dream, finally able to see with clarity. The last vestiges of night had passed, with the sun rising to illuminate the destruction the Wraith had caused.

Or, rather. The thing that had dwelled within the Wraith. The Ooze fell away, body bubbling and dissolving into, well...

Not quite nothing. Strange globs of otherworldly mana remained, like a viscous gel. One could feel the potency of the spiritual energy coming from it.

Tlazhotla suddenly began to stir, and for once...

A sense of clean filled the air. Free of taint. Free of corruption, barring perhaps Pasis.

Free of Eidolon's influence.
[21:42] {Item} You drop Poppylus x1.
[21:42] {Item} You picked up Spirit Slime.Dropped by Spooky Narrator. .