Fighting Snake-beast/woman thing, acquiring tomes; rift

[18:35:05] Hissing, crawling... A sacrifice to be made-- give her everything, give her more... Insatiable was the need, and the sickness crawled through her very being. In the midst of the styigan murk, there sat a platform high above the rest of the area... A gift, given, dropped... Horrendously red eyes would tilt upwards towards the obscured ceiling as a befanged, wicked smile would dance across broken stone features. Had she forgotten what visitors were like? Had she forgotten the warm embrace of another when it came down to it? When they caved it all in, when it came crashing down... Shattered, it had taken so long to pull herself back together when it came down to it... Hands would clutch desperately at the offering given to her, and her cheek would brush against the warmth of the Malpercian's own cheek, and she would close her eyes for a few moments as she drew in a heavy breath,

It had been so long...

Long fingers would dig in harshly at the chest of the male that she held against her own and he would feel a tug, a draw on his very mana circuitry as he fell deeper within the pit, the hell that had been created here within Mormegil. A tongue would slip free of the confines of her lips, and it would draw along the man's cheek as she tasted that flesh there-- split, much like a serpant's, and it would twist in different directions at the very split there... Neck would twist just so at the footsteps that would pad into the area, and her neck would give a sickening crack, the sound of stones scraping together there as she listened on to clue in on any voices. Snakes at the top of her head would hiss and breathe to life.

And her lashes would bat just so: "This is my battered, broken toy," she would whisper into Savant's ear: "You're mine, mine, mine... Be one of my figures. Let me reduce you to a soul-less husk of stone..." Fingers would plunge harshly into his chest as she tilted her red gaze up to greet the newcomers.

As they stepped into the area, they would feel a very abrupt tugging sensation upon their mana, and vine like constructs would wriggle to life in an undoubtedly threatening manner.

"The sacrifice has brought me more gifts... This is pure joy."

The voice would bounce off of every single wall in the area, and the fanged smile would break across her features--- literally. Her cheek would crack at the motion, riding up past her eye and into her forehead just from the sheer force of her twisted grin.
(Aquarius)


To come to a room, to be party to.. a mess; In the center, to be seen, a figure, that of a grotesque seen. A creature, to work it's way into the corpse of Savant, or body, not sure as to the condition they were to be left in, to extend a will, senses; practice put into play -- to grasp for any signs of life, the hinting of the lifestream at work, mana to be found in a body, yet to be draining. Taken from him, absorbed in a way, added to another, to sustain.

The laughter, how it filled the room, how it was to be unnerving, the battered form of the Malpercian, to be lifted, raised aloft, and the creature to speak to it, to find enjoyment, to revel in her moment. Addressing it as a toy, offering a new life for it, to live on as a appendage for her, to be apart of her. A sickening existence, one to drive the Kyros, not to feel often, to commonly let feelings grace him was not something he was to entertain, but, seeing this: to have to behold.

What their folly had wrought, as they were to be dealing with another up above, it served to anger him, to give sway to power, flames to lick, and to cover him, forearms doused in the blazing pyres that would manifest.

To have come here with him, to have journeyed -- a man known before the seekers, battles experienced, and spars undertaken, so easily done away with, and all because of a choice; behind the scenes works, and this was to be the result. To grip at the weapon, Crosier, to be waved free of it's entrapments, a wave of miasma to sweep with it, and to direct itself forward, to come into contact with those ahead, harmless to friend, a sting for foe, maybe, perhaps. To keep himself in check, a strenuous task, the temper of his people, so easily ignited, especially while found within a state of half-shifted glory, teeth bared, and a purpose to be fulfilled, one to add to others, his duty, that to a city, shelved, for vengeance to take hold of him.
(Tertius Kyros)

{NARRATION} The battle is a ferocious one. Stalagmites and stalactites akin see themselves shaken from their holsters and splashed violently into the ground below - alternatively, they plunge deep into the black waters of the Stygian Murk, spreading the vile liquid far and wide overtop of the grouping. Every droplet would singe and sting those of a particularly holy nature, and those of an Occultic one, even, would find themselves affected by the substance... drawn to it, even. Whatever the case, though, the ravenous one known only to the group as the thief of Savant and their own personal attacker would prove a significant challenge. To any who were pulled too close to her embrace, her vision... It would not end well. For Harper, particularly - and Andras, too. Their eyes, throughout the whole of the battle, would lock with the pseudo-gorgon's own; a fate worse than death, for some, though the lengths of their shared glare would not reach such a length. To Harper, the 'gift' of stone was far more sincerely severe. A beam of invisible connection betwixt Aquarius and the ginger-headed girl would be forged from naught but the air abound, and, through whatever angelic magicks the feminist angel Lillith maintained, Harper's right eye would see itself... corrupt. First, the fluids within would boil to a concrete-akin stone, soon spreading outward through the flesh and across the top of her shoulder. Thereafter did it 'infect' the bone, diving deep to ravage the girl's arm harshly. Stone severed the connection between the furthest reach of her hand and the other portions of her body - an effective amputation, soon to lose blood flow and otherwise and... decay. And eye contact would be broken, Aquarius' reddened irises then locking onto Andras' own just as they had with Harper, though for a lesser length of time. The boy would see his left eye, instead, burst with the nature of stone, spreading quickly across that portion of his visage in a horrendously monstrous portrayal of flesh-to-rock conversion. Skin became smoothened, coldened mineral, and what was once half of the teenager's available sight... vanished, fittingly. A battle that did not end without losses of some sort. For the others, only minor or few injuries would remain - nothing torturous, though perhaps notable. A door upon the furthest portion of the cavern creaked open slowly, filled with libraries and books and otherwise - a treasure trove, perhaps.



Oh, a mediocre defeat... How dank, how droll-- it could have been hers. All of it could have been here, and now... And yet... These sacrifices had actually managed to succeed! With all the power that she boasted, with all the bodily might that she may have had... It still wasn't enough when one was going up against such a hefty group, no? As the final blow had been struck by none other than Iris, the once vampire affiliated crusader, the pseudo Gorgon would drop down heavily to her platform and she would gaze around the area.

It seemed that there had been some that succumbed to Lillith's embrace...

Eyes would shut in a weary sense as all sense of self would disperse. Falling, falling... she was falling once again... Just like when Mormegil fell the first time, she would feel her body crack, she would feel herself break... And like a great stone statue, her pieces would fall down to the ground all around from her platform, some even falling to the styigan murk there. "Never find yourselves in Mormegil again... You'll find yourselves embraced that much harsher if there is a next time..." A hissing laughter would echo through the air...

It seemed that she had won in her own right.

Silly, naiive Seekers.
(Aquarius)

[19:54:27] To raise, from a temporary defeat; downed momentarily, to avoid the harsher of punishments others had inflicted upon them. To avoid the curse, two to fall victim, stone to grace form. He raises, attire tattered in some places, his prostrusions; wings to be pierced through, thin leathery appendages to be damage, incapable of flight perhaps. A horn, to be chipped, fractured, and bent, and for the main physique; aching muscles, ailing nerves. How he would like rest after this, but still.. Work to be done, to be promised afterwards, how he would need t move more, to acquire a remnant of this place, of those who ventured down here with him.

The words of the defeated, the Gorgon to fade, and with it, a warning, to order, to command for them to not return from here. To fly overhead, the Kyros, a party of the victor, little to spare on that which had given away under their mighty, albeit to be struck down, these sentiments to remain.

A pathway to open, to promise.. Reward, that which he sought, knowledge, power, armaments, artifiacts -- he knew not what, but for their struggles, for their assumed loss, all of this; to now be graced with such a treat. To refrain from eagerness, too tired for such a thing. A step forward, towards this Library, to take the lead, Savant to be tended to, another of their group to come into contact with him; kept alive, a stroke of luck. Fortune continuing to grace them.

"We press on, I assume?" To turn his head, to look to the seekers, those gathered, for a moment, before a step forward, into the halls, his Crosier, gripped tightly, through sweat,and blood, bones to be ill set on some fingers, yet ignored, adrenaline to pump, to lead him.
(Tertius Kyros)
{NARRATION} The library is full of notes - plentiful, plentiful notes. Although, most of them are utterly mundane - darkness, holy, fire, cosmic, earth... the basics, really, on the large majority of all available magicks in the land of Valmasia. Nothing superb, really, beyond what one would expect from the likes of a usual store of knowledge or otherwise. It was what one could find in Byson, if some degree above, in terms of quantity or quality! Tests had been done - oh, so morbid tests - that surely outmatched the more moral studies of other locations' sources. Specific caches of resources, though, revealed a trio of particularly interesting, hidden-away subjects: Gorgonism, within a tome that reeked of depravity and bore the visage of a hundred-snake-headed woman atop its foremost cover, human anatomy, which withheld from those abound an excess of information and the very extents of human capability and likely a tool to be used by any aspiring necromancer, and... an inherently vile study, known to many as Rift. All three were personally scribed by the likes of the Harukean lich that formerly presided over the place of vileness, hundreds of pages recorded by either his own hand or by those of a slave of some sort; details to be valued, surely, if one was willing enough. An entrance in the distance opened, too, allowing them all to leave if they so desired - which they surely did, after events endured. Whatever the case, they were allowed ample time to scramble over who deserved what most.
20:34:33] Iris: Speak, then.
[20:34:33] Tertius Kyros: The Book.
[20:34:33] Tertius Kyros: I do not want it here.
[20:34:33] Iris: Explain why?
[20:34:33] Tertius Kyros: The magics to pertain to Rifting.. The notes, while one thing to be allowed.
[20:35:24] Tertius Kyros: The idea of these.. "Seekers" The younger ones, to dabble in those magics.
[20:35:24] Tertius Kyros: I do not wish it.
[20:35:24] Iris: It is not your place, nor mine to bar any person from knowledge.
[20:35:24] Iris: What do you see when you look at the seekers, Tertius?
[20:36:16] Tertius Kyros: I see a Union of likened minds.
[20:36:16] Tertius Kyros: Some stragglers to carry with us.
[20:36:16] Iris: That is the right track.
[20:37:07] Iris: I will tell you, I see potential.
[20:37:07] Tertius Kyros: I understand Iris.
[20:37:07] Tertius Kyros: But all I ask is.
[20:37:07] Tertius Kyros: I am allowed to take the Book.
[20:37:07] Tertius Kyros: If.
[20:37:07] Tertius Kyros: A copy must be made.
[20:37:07] Tertius Kyros: Then it is allowed, one to copy the notes.
[20:37:58] Tertius Kyros: But, I must have the original.
[20:37:58] Iris: I would feel much more comfortable with the original in my posession.
[20:37:58] Iris: Mine, personally.
[20:37:58] Iris: Not within the library of the seekers. We will copy it twice, one for the library, one for you, and one for safekeeping.
[20:37:58] Iris: Is that a fair middleground?
[20:38:49] Tertius Kyros: I do not wish to budge on this.
[20:38:49] Tertius Kyros: But.
[20:38:49] Tertius Kyros: If it is to be within your hands, the originals.
[20:38:49] Tertius Kyros: To stay from those.
[20:38:49] Tertius Kyros: Who would find little reason to find use with it.
[20:39:40] Tertius Kyros: I will allow this.
[20:39:40] Tertius Kyros: With the condition...
[20:39:40] Jolyne: The Vindicators will not be happy this took so long, Tertius.
[20:39:40] Tertius Kyros: A limit to the copie--
[20:39:40] Jolyne: <*these hands*>
[20:39:40] Iris: There will be, as I said, two copies. One for you, one for the seekers.
[20:39:40] Tertius Kyros: <*Shifts to Comrades.*> Ah.
[20:39:40] Iris: I will send your copy to you directly once I have it done.