Edge of Discovery

The island came into view as walls of crumbling stone first. Once a mighty fort, that much was easy to tell, though the origin was less easy to point. It didn't have the same appearance as something the Agarthans would build, but didn't match what any of you were familar with either.

Odd.

Your boat sailed towards the ruins of a port, devoid of all but one crumbling ship. Massive rents were torn in the side, the split clean in half. On further inspection, it was obvious the damage was caused by a combination of combat and age, and it was certainly not a seaworthy vessel.

Landing at the port, the very air was off. You suddenly felt...

Bound. Shackled. Chained to this island. Your very beings tugged at. Of all of you, Arthur could tell it the most. Something had just tugged at your souls, but not in the destructive manner of death magic.

It was quite the journey.

But Arthur had come prepared; the experience with numerous traps from the previous expedition made him cautious as never before, and two dozen of undead followed their Master, all with their weapons raised and ready to give anything- even their unlife- just to keep him safe.

One could argue it's unethical... but what's moral worth when your life is on the line?

"Be careful as you move. Do not touch any suspicious objects and do not pick up something just because it's shiny or it looks good. The treasure does not lie about randomly, it could be a trap."

"Inform me if you see such. I will send undead to investigate instead."

Though, there's something else that tugs at him; it's the familiar feeling of what he asserts to his own servants, the power of Necromancy that can keep someone tied to a particular object or person. Did they just become bound to something?

While it alerted him, and it made for assumption that none of them can leave the island without completing their path, he's become certain of something - the reports didn't lie, this place is worth checking. And likely, the relic is exactly here.

"...It also appears we will be unable to leave island until we're finished."

"I have a feeling that... it's here."
(Arthur Rowan)


"I'm curious."

 But is she curious enough to wade through the shipwreck in search of somethin that might bot benefit her. Her wide eyes would have scanned the boat that was split in half...Her head tilting, imagining how such a vecile could even be cut cleanly. All in all though..

 "I'm not sure if I can tell if this is real or fake. Every magi has their limit but-.." She says, growing silent. "Ruining an entire city and then...This pressure?" something sin't right. Something, doesn't feel right...But still, she allows Arthur to call the shots.

 "Got it."
(Bei Rowan)

"Mn. Spiritual manipulation?"

Such a dreaded feeling courses through the disastrous planes of the Rowan priestess' soul, invoking a raise of her chin and a soft hand to press against the stirrings of the belly. A bounding feeling; something that the beast within her didn't appreciate. Nothing, after all, was more shackling that an external force attempting to submit archaic magic.

Her head cants as a glistening trail of crimson tresses falls over her shoulder.

"Whatever's possessing the island is malevolent, at the very least. Not unlike those that revered the Morninglord for such dastardly purposes, that is. If it won't let us leave, we should possibly figure out what it wants from us."
(Joy Rowan)

The trip felt long, not having been upon a boat since her arrival in Agartha she looked to the others, hoping to gauge their composure as she masked her emotions. She set foot upon the decrepit port, eyes upon the ship before she felt shaken to the very core. This was in no way like Arthurs torture in the cells below Valmasia, no, something pulled at her very being and it was enough to unsettle her.

Taking a deep breath of the stale air around her she attempts to center herself, focusing on her energy as the temperature around her regulated itself. She kept her silence, waiting for the others to gather themselves as well. She had come hoping to aid them without slowing down.

Nodding in confirmation to Arthurs words she kept on high alert, she did not wish to bring any needless dangers to the group.
(Nihilexia Wight)

"Whatever it is, I wonder if it's steeped in anything worthy."

She'd toiled in the realm of spirits, and found nothing worth note. This time, she hopes to close her eyes and simply bask in her surroundings, the question of whether or not there would be any latent energies that could better be felt, and tugged upon if given the opportunity.

The occult however, continued to brim from her person, her patience however maintained despite the rise of energy that came with waiting.

Journeys alike this one always left her feeling antsy, given that one was never like the next.
(Rea Valenta)

The dock was rickety and boards threatened to snap beneath your weight. Centuries of age, saltwater and open airtended to do that to even the most stalwart of lumber. Approaching the keeps walls, a simple paved path led to the gates within. The entire place felt steeped in magic, steeped in the occult.

The gates were blasted open, bars bent inwards and covered in a patina of rust. And in immediate sight?

Warriors clashing against demons, their forms translucent and paying no attention to you. They stood overtop skeletons, cleaving through each other.

It almost instils doubt. Almost.

But they had no choice other than proceeding inside. There's nothing else they would be able to do, other than keep going until they find what they need - now that they were bound to this island, much like the countless warriors ahead of them that seemingly fought Demons.

"Draw your weapons. We might get into fight just now."

"Do not attract attention just now. We must see how any of them reacts to our presence. Should we be attacked by either side... we'll assist another."

But was that a good idea, even? It's hard to tell. This island reeked of Azrael's energy, from the sheer fact that he immediately felt bound to this place- no other proof is needed for Arthur further than that.

And an idea shines upon his head; he turns to a single undead of his, voicing a command.

"Go. Approach the battlefield. Do your best to not perish."

A guinea pig... surely, if these warriors were there to test those devoted to Azrael's mission, they would not immediately attack a creation that was made by the Holy Art of Azrael himself?

Let's wait and see.
(Arthur Rowan)



 "Spiritual Manipula tin a strange think to call it." She says, nodding once, twice. " I think that it coudld possibly hint that whomever we go against won't really be so nice." Although, it doesn't feel familiar at all, which was bothersome. Slow, steady, and careful. For now,"

 "...Which side should we be on?" The skeletons or the warriors? It's odd to believe that there's something...Nostalgic. But for now, she waits and see- preparing herself for whats to come should the battle happen.
(Bei Rowan)

"Eugh," a soft wrinkling of brow and a scoff of disturbance leaves the woman's lips. The occulted air is like a toxic miasma to the Holy Mage, and with the combination of ethereal manipulation, she knows that it would be her that suffered the most amongst the others. There is only the comfort of Sin to keep her afloat, contending malevolently against a force that would threaten to take her out before she could truly proceed.

"The spirits of the skeletons, I'll assume. Trapped in perpetual battle … this isn't a gateway to Helheim, is it?"

The reports of Valmasian scouts leading them to the descent into Helheim, after all, would've been quite wonderous. They'd outdo themselves, in this case. If they were to take a step through the gates, Joy wondered if they'd ever, truly be able to return.

If not, well. She didn't like her body to begin with.

"I'm not sure if we'll remainwhole if we go through there, Arthur."
(Joy Rowan)


Arthur Rowan says, "Await for their reaction upon one of my undead. I wish to see if they'll do any damage to him - and which side will attack."
This was her chance to see a master necromancer at work, so that she might learn first hand, she needed to find something here that would allow her to study the intricacies of Necromancy further. Her eyes flickered around the scenery though she did best to keep focus, ready to lash out or defend with her magics as they came upon the blasted gates.

She looked at the bones and how they still seemed to have spirits tied to them in constant battle with eachother. Both warriors and demons alike caught in an endless battle. This stirred her, though she simply watched, waited upon Arthurs command before she did anything.

"To be tied in constant battle.." Was all she could muster, watching as they fought, waiting for the Undead to follow its' orders.
(Nihilexia Wight)

The longer you observed the battlefield, the more it seemed perpetual, and strange. The spirits actually seemed to die, you could watch them fade into residue, their mana gone.

And then they rose once more from the skeleton that spawned them, rejoining the battle. It was no retelling, these weren't the last moments of their lives -

It was a constant war that had extended for who knew how long?

The undead seemed unmolested. Passing through the torn apart gates, in clear sight of the spirits. Whatever possessed them, they did not turn away from their foes, armor-clad defenders against demonic attackers.

At least, until it strayed too close. Almost as one, as soon as it was within weapon range, specters of both sides moved to attack the undead, hacking it to pieces.

You could feel its soul slip away - or attempt to, before Azraels magic gripped it. A spirit of the man that body had once belonged to rose - out of place in this war, attacking both sides.
(Morrana Coza)

Morrana Coza whispers: The spirit doesn't seem to be under anyones control, though it was very clearly wrested from yours. The rest of your undead seem unaffected.

An eternally bound spirit, only made to constantly war against one another.

While it was easy to tell that they're not going to pass through this area unharmed, and trying to quite literally sneak past their weapon range all over would only be a suicide, it was not easy at all to come up with effective approach to this situation. Of course, Arthur knew that spirits and souls are oft bound to the bodies--

-- and even if they were already skeletons beneath the feet of spirits? They could still contain their essence.

"It appears the fight will not be avoided, no matter what we do."

"Everyone with good ability of annihilating the body, you'll be required to smite the bodies. Bei, Joy and Nihilexia - target the skeletons and try to destroy as many as possible from the range with anything you have. Aim for their head preferably."

"Me and Rea will attempt to attack the spirits pre-emptively. The destruction of bodies can either unbind or weaken them- or do nothing at all. If that's the case, at least both of us will hold off their assault, enough for you three to prepare."

The Heaven Render was drawn. Arthur summoned the Storm above the battlefield, enough to target quite literally everything - though, in reality, it could target only majority of bodies and spirits alike, some may be lucky to not get struck at all.

"Do it now."
(Arthur Rowan)

"A smart idea, Arthur."

One that she envies him for. Eradicating the bodies and the spirits simultaneously would remove resurrection should Necromancy be the art behind the tether. Much more keenly precise than what she knew of Helheim. So long as their bodies remained fortified, their spirits would be somewhat safe. Bound.

To the island, but to a way back to themselves. It is a good theory.

"Then I'm sure you both won't mind if my focus is in preserving you from being overwhelmed," Joy sustains, as it is in her holy nature to do so. A svelte sheet of Holy Water swathes her form like an external aura - depth granted in a mighty battle against the occulted air, but sustained nevertheless by the breath of antique magic within.

Her hand outstretches, the tendrils of magnified, holy waters bathing over the battlefield to uproot the bodies from the ground in a flood.

"Take them out, ladies."
(Joy Rowan)

She could not explain it, the sensation that came to her upon watching as the Undead was torn asunder only to have its' soul pulled into the battle. The spirits were forced to fight in a constant battle acting as a spiritual trap, anything that approached was cursed to join the battle as well.

She seemed very impressed, though in truth she was terrified, she did not wish to be bound to some old island where there were nothing but ghosts to admire her beauty. To be caught in an endless battle with ghosts, demons and whatever else was trapped on the island.

She held tightly onto her staff with her gauntleted hand, the gem upon the gauntlet itself glowing a faint purple, hopefully Arthur knew a way to deal with this. She would attempt to look at the rest of the courtyard from their position. Upon Arthurs command she would focus magic into her staff as a gnarled blade formed from the moisture in the air, freezing as her staff turned into a Scythe.

"Got it, the cold will make the bones more frail and easy to crush."

The Sarradian called upon her control over the atmosphere as everything had begun to chill severely. The wind begins to pick up as she waved her hand. The moisture was surprisingly thick around them, crystalizing into thousands of little shards, each of them sharp enough to cut through flesh, bone and the like.

Like the conductor of an orchestra Lexia commanded the freezing winds and created a full blown blizzard around the battlefield, mingling with Arthurs storm hoping to create enough ice to crush the bones with while the others focused on their tasks.


(Nihilexia Wight)

From observation, one could at least speculate that the specters which attack, were no different from the wardens she'd faced when taming Shiva's spiritual beasts. Yet, having known that it was far too soon to jump to conclusions, she continues to focus, to direct her gaze until the battle between Arthur's undead and the specters ceased.

"Mmn… If my suspicions are correct, we'll have a fight on our hands."

After all, to disturb the order of this place meant that they truly would be gathering the attention of protecters. Of things that would be best not to be taken lightly. A digit rests upon her chin, tendrils of occult seeking to once again bolster the mage's magics.

"Ahh... And here, you always think that things would proceed smoothly." Obviously jesting, the arcane energies would be felt for, her once splintered mind then focusing onto her surroundings, each opposing attribute taken into account as she preparedherself for what lied ahead.
(Rea Valenta)


 "I'll do what I can."

 For things like this, she could be seen adjusting the weapon upon her side. For now, she keeps the sword within it's sheathe as brilliant, amethyst flames would soon pulse into reality. The steady rise of temperature could be felt as she prepares herself-- While balancing upon a single leg and taking her stance, one would be able to see her 'striking' at what seemed to be the air...Flames and cosmic glitz shooting outward, the mere 'impact' of each blow sent viciously within the direction of the skeletons..

 "Should be easier that way."

 Between her own gale force and Nihilexia's frost, they should be well enough. Although.. "But I never expect things to go smoothly. We both know how being 'optimistic' about those things go, Rea. If we get too happy-...Something even worse pops up." That much, she knows from her own experiences.

 Nevertheless, the actions continue...From afar, she uses what she is taught. And some, could even say that her own abilities are quite close to that of 'Galeforce'. Hm, hmm, hmm.
(Bei Rowan)

Magics flared violently. Storm, and Arcane, Fire and Cosmic, Ice and Holy Waters.

Enough to shatter bodies, much less decrepit skeletons. Bones were pulverized to dust, incinerated, broken into fragments of nothingness. The spirits turned on you as they were assailed, but pointlessly. These were not the powerhouses of Magi, and even the demons were lessers. The chaff sent first.

They died in swathes, torn apart with hardly a challenge. It felt like overkill.

But the feeling in the air didn't diminish. The spirits began to reform, clearly not bound to the bodies, but you had time. They seemed to take longer after such violent destruction.

A path had been cleared.

So it seems they could path this place for as long as they would destroy the spirits, even if temporarily.

That's good news, especially considering that Storm and Fires conjured by Arthur and Bei alone should be enough to do the job; it makes for an easier return, if anything, and that means the path ahead of them is clear.

But not for long.

"Off we go. Now."

Without awaiting much, the Adjudicator makes for a sprint towards the other area. While he makes it a point for everyone to follow suit and run right after him, even as he runs, an occasional burst of lightning spreads through him to keep the spirits down for as long as possible, and thus secure the safe passage for his people--

-- if someone is slow enough to not make it in time, that is. Otherwise? He does not linger for long.

"Move it."
(Arthur Rowan)


Bei Rowan says, "<*follows in tow!*> "
Lexia makes a dash for it as well, doing her best to keep in tow with Arthur. Occasionally throwing blasts of wind and ice at spirits as they attempted their assault. Curious as to how the creatures might be tethered to their battle here, she would have to look closer if they end up having the time and should they survive.
(Nihilexia Wight)


Joy Rowan says, "< *simply follows behind, observant.* > "
Rea allows for the Adjudicator to have the spotlight!
(Rea Valenta)

The courtyard was wide, providing a good remnant of what might have once been a proud musterground. One thing was certain, this entire place was dedicated to nothing but war. The walls were worthy of any fortress, full of battlements and towers. With water surrounding the place on all sides, a siege would be a near impossible affair.

Considering it was built during the divine war, perhaps that should've been expected.

More spirits could be seen upon those battlements, far out of range of you. The occasional stray one ignored you, paying no attention even as you tore their kind to pieces, out of their reach as you were.

The fortress itself held yet another gate, and was yet again forced open, allowing you to push inside.

Where you discover that it's strikingly similar to ancient valmasian architecture, albeit a few centuries old.

So this is where the discovery lies.

At last, they made it past all these unpleasant obstacles, but he always stayed on guard; if anything, he was searching for something that could give him a clue or any sense of direction as to where he should proceed in order to uncover the relic- that's what he arrived here for, to begin with.

Even if that meant attuning to the feeling of being bound to this place. After all, undead vaguely feel their master too.

"Search the place and be cautious of any trap. Do not pick up anything that looks suspicious and only report back about it. We have undead to investigate such."

"And make sure to report on anything you find immediately."

But despite the driven, almost obsessed demeanor of Arthur, beyond that mask, beyond that veil - there was curiosity... he observed the structure, almost as if he was taking notes.

Something on his mind?
(Arthur Rowan)

Fascinating surroundings. Hinting to an ancient architecture that would inspire the very bearings of the motherland - how could Joy not find wonder in such a place? The fortress, itself, held the testament of the Divine Wars - history etched through every nook and cranny. All one had to do was to look.

However, Arthur wouldn't allow them to touch. Not trusting such Azrael-blessed surroundings, ah? The mere fact that Valmasians, formerly met, stood in their place brought a glistening feeling of pride, astonishment, and envy all the same.

"The one in charge of this place must be of Valmasian origin. A Lich, perhaps? In charge of protecting one of the Morninglord's most prized armor pieces..."

It would explain the magnified, necromantic power. The feeling that even seeped within their own souls. The boundaries that had crossed mortality and into immortality.

"That, or one of Lord Azrael's vey own chosen - remaining behind to act as a guardian... If he is of us, why should we have fear? We all follow the same Archangel."

Unless, he wasn't one of them. Theorizing the source of this magic was perplexing.
(Joy Rowan)


Arthur Rowan says, "Everyone is out for themselves, Joy. The Azraelite ruin I went to had spirits of the past attack us."

Arthur Rowan says, "The Necromancer we met decided to trick us."

Prepare for the Divine War, Bei.

 She remembers the voice of the Archon as they move forward, her gaze beginning to flutter as she looks across the homes upon the fields. Lost, confused....If they were in search for the Relic, then would it not be wise for one of them to concentrate on locating such? Surely...They wouldn't wait for others to suddenly notice them, would they? In a moment, she finds herself beginning to pause.

 "I'll see if I'll be able to use my magic to give us a better direction. I'll just gather what I can while calling for proxima. Maybe, she'll be able to lead me to the source." Investigating the area didn't seem to be too harsh, but considering that these 'spirits' could possibly become more self-aware and attack them...It only makes matters that much worse.

 For now, she seems busy attempting to 'sense' out what might be 'powering' these spirits or controlling them.
(Bei Rowan)


Arthur Rowan says, "We're on our own completely. No allegiance of ours would help. At least, that's what I'm convinced of."
Ever cautious, the Valmasian was quick to kick off the grand and begin levitating, her fascination with these ruins in particular. The desire to carelessly run her hand upon many of the aged pieces truly did grip her, yet restraint is practiced, and instead does her eyes trace about.

She is ever learning though, ever tugging upon Agartha's distant energies in search of knowledge. Not a word is spoken, but she does nod in agreement with the adjudicator's response.

"After all, it matters not if they are friend or foe. These lands, they always come with a challenge. Some catch, to the power we're seeking."

Nobody would give them the things they wanted, she had long since grown beyond the naivety she once possessed during adolescence, and ever since began to grasp an understanding for herself. So, ever would she be cautious of her surroundings, and the souls of those that came and went.
(Rea Valenta)


Joy Rowan says, "A selfish guardian of Lord Azrael's relics is a guardian that needs to be relieved of his duty, indeed. We're to bring them together, not hold them for our own power."
Lexia nodded, keeping quiet as she chose not to stray too far though her eyes shimmered with fascination and curiosity. She kept her ear out for anything unusual as well as to listen to the others speak. She looked at the intricate designs on the walls, having never seen such a design save for its' more modern counterparts.

She searched for anything that might seem out of place, keeping her hands to her self, even if she had found something of particular use she would not know what to do with it.

"This.." She could barely muster up words, this was her chance to do something right for Valmasia, hopefully to make up for her previous transgression.

Stepping lightly she attempts to get a layout of the area, she could feel the strange energies around her though she couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was she felt.
(Nihilexia Wight)

It was clear that more spirits, hundreds, if not thousands more, patrolled these walls. Uncontrolled, merely shackled to this island in mindless torpor. It clouded the halls with the stench of Azraelite mana, and yet...

Judging both from knowledge on Valmasian forts, thanking to your heritage, and the trails of mana, a path is traced towards the source of the tether.

And yet, other sources of magic poke through, powerful enough to be seen through the incredible veil of overlaying magic.

But, why?

The question that brims through the mind of the woman, indeed. Isn't selfish gain of an Azraelite relic what they sought for New Valmasia? But, that was in que of completing and mastering the Morninglord's work through Necromancy. For Arthur to find his perfect niche. For them to bring together a source of power that would, eventually, lead towards the freedom of the Arch Angel, himself.

At least, that was the idealistic endeavor of a follower of Lord Azrael. One that was naïve at the very base of it all.

Power did motivate even the most pure of intentions into the most horrid of choices. Magic that stemmed from a source of ancient, Valmasian history was magic that wasn't so easily ignored. If they could understand, if they could find more clues to what led to the constant re-enactment of the Divine War before them? To the source of the necromantic power and their reasoning?

To a clue to the next steps on how to progress in the vindication of the Morninglord?

"The more we understand, the more we'll benefit. Hundreds of years of Valmasia history is accumulated here. We may not get another chance."

She moves towards one of the other sources of magic.
(Joy Rowan)

There's no need to hurry towards the end.

Perhaps among the countless ruins that are positioned around here, there could be something more found around here. Besides, what sort of adventure would it be if they would simply hurry to the end?

The Adjudicator turns to his undead with a decree.

"Split up into smaller groups of three and follow each Valmasian. Listen to their commands and collect anything, or test anything, that they order you to do."

It's a shame that the single undead has died... but if it was anyone else, they could've suffered. It's a small sacrifice in order to preserve his people, isn't it?

Without objecting his order even for a moment, each Valmasian had a small squadron of their own - a trio of undead following them, ready to listen to the orders of their new, but temporary Masters.

"I'm sure each of you will use my undead well. But... do not throw them away to their demise mindlessly. We'll still need them."

With that, Arthur went on to explore; his eyes darting from left to right all the time, thinking on what interesting things he could pick up around here- in his wake, the rest of undead following, thoroughly searching.

Maybe he will be in luck?
(Arthur Rowan)

Rea, of course found herself curious beyond belief, and if given the opportunity to discover, one's soul naturally called forth. The source of energy is followed, ever alluring to the chaos mage whom would naturally seek such out.

If accompanied by undead, then she would naturally seek to use them to their best ability.

For now, however, she coats herself in the element of occult, her own source of energy brimming within her, as her focus became ever apparent. Just what lied ahead? She was truly hoping to find out.
(Rea Valenta)


Could they possibly find their own piece of divinity within the ruins of the past? These spirits seemed so terribly strange, especially since she's not used to these beings outright ignoring her or anything of the sort. In the end, the bubbling frustration would be able to be seen upon her features- a gentle sigh spilling past her lips as she would drift out, heading towards yet another source of magic and tailing another figure. Perhaps, here, she'll be able to find out more of the divine war and their battles with angels.

 Perhaps here, they'll be able to reveal something about the present and future that she never thought to look for within all of her years. "I'll try to not be greedy." Idle clicks and clanks of armor can be heard as she departs with her own group while wondering what might possibly be in store for the lot of them..

 Although, sticking as a group might've been better...Covering more ground and getting an overall feel of the area seems to be a bit more strategic. For now, even though they don't notice her...She feels the need to be somewhat 'on her toes' in preparation to 'run'.
(Bei Rowan)

Lexia found herself very curious, looking through the veil of magic around her and taking the time to center herself. She was here to find something that could help her with the knowledge she needed to raise the dead, to achieve what Arthur and Gideon had done that the dead might rise and worship her. She nodded to Arthur, thanking him as her three new Undead chronies marched to her order.

As she separated herself with undead in tow she reached out in search of something familiar, something she hoped would lead her to the knowledge she sought. She needed something, to gain more power, something that would help her bend the will of others. Picking up a trail, a spirit catching her eye she tails it carefully, keeping her eyes out for traps or anything out of place.

She did her best to mask her emotions, excitement bubbling up and pushing her fear away. These energies seemed familiar though still very new to her, the undead she had at her command aided in keeping her somewhat at ease as well, though she knew it wise not to let her guard down.
(Nihilexia Wight)

The first source of magical influence, outside of the trail of potent Azraelite power, led you towards your straight left. Spirits were encountered, at times so thick that you couldn't have stood still without being shoulder to shoulder with them, clogged in their battle.

But these were, again, pointlessly and easily erased. Not that it wasn't taxing on your mana. To exterminate in such quantities, it drained a magi, but not to exhaustion.

You found yourselves going upstairs and outside, along a raised portion of the fort, towards a building that looks an awful lot like a now defunct forge, the door slightly ajar.

The magical influence that came from within felt...

Cold.

There's no way that Arthur would be ever careless in situations like this.

Learning from trial and error during previous expeditions, he's grown weary trusting anything at all- which is the reason why he had taken such a plentiful of undead with himself. Surely, they may not be very useful in combat, and as a matter of fact they will never make a large difference...

That doesn't mean they cannot be sacrificed testing or checking something instead of trying their fate, right?

"Go. Check ahead. Be on high alert as you do so."

Pointing the Heaven Render's tip towards the entrance of the new building up ahead, Adjudicator already gave an order to the undead he had to check before they proceed; it doesn't mean that Arthur would stop of course- steadily, he walks towards its entrance, only awaiting until his creations come out unharmed - or instead, become a victim of some trap inside.

"Rea, keep the undead I assigned to you at bay for now. If portion of mine dies, we won't have anyone else to check ahead but ourselves."

"And that didn't end well last time..."
(Arthur Rowan)

Trust, it is not something that the Valenta wields with ease, but it is ever apparent that she is not one with a talent for balancing risk over well being. One could perhaps have credited it to her youth, and just what her caution had rewarded her before.

The souls which were incapable of attuning to their cause, would be cast aside with ease, the energy which is expelled in doing so however a bit more taxing than what one would have imagined. Arthur's use of undead was however commendable, for it allowed the Valenta to store her own reserves, and proceed as needed, his command received with a nod.

"Understood, though... I must say, this journey differs greatly to the spirits I encountered with the Archon. Mmn, I wonder what it is we're going to be dealing with."

She is ever curious, ever ready to hear the visions of another that unknowingly defies the collective. The slight tug of arcane however notes how Rea diverts her attention, one's senses steadily rising, indulging in the sensations of this world as the Archon of Creation had mentioned.

"I don't sense anything other than the source yet. But..." She observes.
(Rea Valenta)

The undead poked through the door, and perhaps surprisingly was unassailed. Instead, there was an odd voice, tinged with an otherworldly aura to it. The words were hard to pick out, before it raised.

"Necromancer. You must be nearby. Come. I haven't had someone to speak to in... I've forgotten how long."

That's an oddity.

Surely, there's a possible danger that may lie ahead, and while Arthur still hesitates, it's the allure of either discovering something or perhaps acquiring something for himself that makes him come forward- with no mistake, he still stays on his guard, and the next command is issued to the undead.

"Stay on high alert. Begin searching the place and let me know if you find something interesting or suspicious. Otherwise--"

The gaze of Necromancer turns to scan the surroundings once he makes his way inside; while he's just at the entrance, he makes yet another statement.

"Who am I speaking to?"
(Arthur Rowan)

** Your "Fairy Blessing" has dissipated -10 VIT

The place was the perfect model of an ancient forge. A weapon rack lay empty against one wall, an armor rack with a half-finished suit of mail. Ingots of varying metals lay stacked nearly by the forge, while a spirit sat near an anvil.

He was once broad in the chest, unarmored with arms like a bear. His eyes had lost their color in his spiritual death. On the ground, a skeleton lay with a hammer clenched in its hand. No demon bodies were within.

"I... I can't remember my name. This place is..."

He shook his head. "You forget things after so long. But... I haven't forgotten what the living look like. You... You're living, right?"

Antagonized for so long by various creatures that would try and assault the Necromancer, he was indeed weary- though there's something that calls upon the humanity in his heart in the moment when this spirit does not actively try to hunt down Arthur, or try to end his life here and there.

A simple act of peace was enough for Arthur to not act with hostility right away. He was falling for many aspects of corruption, true... but he was still far from becoming a real monster.

"Yes. I am living."

"My name is Arthur Rowan, the Adjudicator of Valmasia upon the continent of Agartha. We've arrived here to discover the ancient relic to assist us in perfecting Necromancy, to the point of allowing the dead to live once more."

"Not as mere skeletons or zombies, but as actual living beings."

He looks around. The forge clearly saw better days, and with a pause, he asks.

"What happened here?"
(Arthur Rowan)

He shook his head. "I can't..."

His eyes came up, looking over you. Not at you, but at your weapon. At Rea's. "I used to create things like that... Can I... Hold it? Something... Art."

You had the distinct feeling that if you handed him something, you wouldn't get it back.

"We were sent, I don't remember... Something attacked, and then... I died. I woke up. I couldn't die."

The chill in the room grew, though not offensively. He seemed tormented, ancient.

He shook his head. "I can't..."

His eyes came up, looking over you. Not at you, but at your weapon. At Rea's. "I used to create things like that... Can I... Hold it? Something... Art."

You had the distinct feeling that if you handed him something, you wouldn't get it back.

"We were sent, I don't remember... Something attacked, and then... I died. I woke up. I couldn't die."

The chill in the room grew, though not offensively. He seemed tormented, ancient.

Whether or not he would have the feeling of not receiving anything back, Arthur had little actual trust to such beings- after the Necromancer tricked them and told his guardian to collect the blood from Valmasians, which left them all weakened... it clearly taught Arthur a lesson that he should not trust anything at all, no matter how appealing, charming or desperate they may be.

Besides, holding a civil discussion never warranted for a trust.

"I'm afraid not."

"I do not think that I can trust my weapon in hands of a man whose past, name and mind I know nothing about. Anyhow--"

"Perhaps we could grant a favour to each other. If you tell me more about this place, what lies ahead, and what can we do to make it easier for us - I'll see what I can do to fulfil requests of yours."

"Otherwise, no deal."

As stern and cold like he was, somehow, Adjudicator expected the spirit to either lie to him andtell false information- or perhaps even attack them here and now.

Who knows what wicked things control them?
(Arthur Rowan)

Rea, is sure that there aren't many whom she could trust her weapon with, nor of anything that would truly prove to be detrimental to the ability of defending herself within an unknown realm. Her amber hues narrow upon the being in particular, ever attempting to figure out just what had occurred for him to lose his memory.

Though, unfortunately, even if she had learned just what became of this being, there were no tools at her disposal to cure such an ailment.

"Do you think this is the work of one of Azrael's faithful though? Mmn…"

He could have been an intruder, someone unwelcome as they potentially were, or simply someone that came to perform a task like them, and met a fate unbecoming of them. She rubs her chin, speculating the reason, though she is yet to jump to a single conclusion.
(Rea Valenta)

A shine visibly diminishes in his form. "I can't..." He shook his head again, looking at the floor with the same ideal of a prisoner stuck in his cell for a decade.

"I can't remember. I can't remember..." Spectral hands clenched, and then unclenched, as if he'd remembered something.

"His name was Veleros. Veleros. He said he'd... They'd given him something, a gift. We'd never die, he said, but...

He needed time."

But was Arthur really going to give up his weapon, even for such a piece of information?

Obviously not. It wasn't that useful, to begin with, and besides whatever hardships they were going to face, he could still use the weapon. Moreover, it had sentimental value to him- losing it to a spirit who's spoken vague information would be... a shame, at best.

"I see. This hardly clarifies anything at all. We've already expected both a relic at the end of our journey, as well as the major adversity that would keep us from getting it. However--"

Arthur nudges one of his undead to come closer. Figuring that these ruins belonged to a very ancient Valmasian outpost, they had not seen the newer models of mana rifle - it doesn't mean that it wasn't an ordinary and accessible one, but it did mean that it was very likely something that the spirit has never seen before.

"You. Hand over the rifle to this spirit. You can pick up any sword from fallen warriors on our way back."

Though, with that, Arthur nodded and ordered his undead to collect anything useful they might find around here - that includes the materials and chunks of ore, and even the unfinished plate. Maybe it was a special project that never came to existence, and it's actually worth something?

"Unless you had something else, we must be on our way. We seek to remedy the mistakes such as these, and--"

"As unfortunate as it is, we cannot stay here longer."
(Arthur Rowan)

You pick up Arcanium x2.

Bei Rowan whispers: It turns out that we need a key.

Bei Rowan whispers: An item of some sort.

Joy leads the girls back to the others with an annoyed expression on her face. The heresy.
(Joy Rowan)


Rea Valenta says, "..."
Finding their way to Arthur and Rea was simple. They merely had to follow the trail of broken bodies and chaotic magics that they'd left. Arriving just in time to see a specter of a smith clutching a mana rifle.

As he held it, it seemed to distintegrate in his hands, the magic within the weapon pouring into him.

For a moment, it seemed invigorated.

"I..." His eyes focused firmly on Arthur for a long moment. "I remember, but I won't. Most of them, they..." He glanced out a window, towards the mindless spirits.

"They had no will to remain. I'll be like them, soon. Mindless." Already, the more solid form he possessed seemed to be dwindling, the magic within the mana rifle he'd been given not enough to sustain on.

"You don't need to fight Veleros... He was supposed to keep the keep free of invaders. You don't..." Mid-sentence, his eyes lost their light. The spirit slumped, staring at the ground.

Mindless like the rest.

As much as Arthur used the will of undead for himself, there was a certain life where even he would stop the unfairness towards them, even if they were ex-enemies; to leave someone an absolutely mindless drone, rather than use them when it's truly necessary? It's cruel.

It's one thing to make someone useful at certain moments, another to enslave them for all eternity.

But this was no time for ethics. They still had their mission to fulfil - they still had to reach the end, to confront this Veleros, to retrieve back the relic and sail back home. So much to do, so little time.

"I'm glad you're this faithful, but--"

"I do not think Veleros would give it up easily. Our goal is noble, far better than powering the curse of keeping the lost spirits on this island, but--"

Just as Arthur was about to express his thought on the matter and re-affirm the blacksmith that the fight would likely follow themoment they step into his chambers, he sees that his lights go out; he knows that it's pointless to keep speaking to him.

"--Farewell, blacksmith."

"You will yet be free."
(Arthur Rowan)

"Supposed to keep the keep free? As in, protect the relic?"

The fall of the undead into the mindless behavior of the spirits grants a pause. So, they didn't all seem to be that way - no, they had minds. For however long that was supposed to be.

"Yet, he holds a vault in which we require a key to open. Something we'll have to confront him for. I'm certain he won't give such a thing up without a fight."

So, the hint didn't seem to correlate to the events at hand. Strange.

"We've only one path to go, Arthur."
(Joy Rowan)

Having followed the trail to Arthur and Rea, the young Ice Magis' gaze set itself upon the spirit of the blacksmiths final moments. The Rowans had all taken charge and for this first jaunt into the unexplored she was completely fine with that. After all she had come here to learn.

Turning towards the rest of the room she did not have much to say, hands clenched upon her Scythe as she occasionally scanned the room.
(Nihilexia Wight)

And so to the final chamber you strode. The spirits grew tougher, as the chaff had been cleared away early on. The elite defenders of the keep, the gigas and elementals and even a kaor-class demon, all blown away by whatever magic held them here now.

And then you reached the end.

The doors blown open, a complete lack of bodies. Nothing had been left to stop it, the force that had come. Within?

You found yourselves privy to a battle of incredible ferality. Energy against Cosmic. Fire against Lightning. The form of an Oscuri on wings of green Rieka, against a titanic figure, what could only be an Archon...

Both spiritual beings. Beings that stopped their conflict as you entered, the first interruption for who knew how many centuries.

"Reinforcements?" The Oscuri cried as he saw the undead trailing? "Finally, you can help me push this demon invader out once and for all!"

"Push out? You've kept me here, TRAPPED ME HERE!"

The Adjudicator carefully examined the ones that were locked in the battle- Energy versus Cosmic, and the Archon versus Oscuri. Now, while Arthur had little to no trust for any creature that he may encounter upon the island, even if it's clearly an ex-Valmasian, there's still a certain bias towards other creatures.

The Demons.

Much like certain other species, they were despicable to him. The only reason he's never struck out against Gaiar or Crafthold yet is because he had other matters and other enemies to tend to- but if it wasn't for them at all? Perhaps, Valmasia would be at war with Demons at this point.

Underneath the mask, he smiles. He does not anticipate the Oscuri to be loyal, trustworthy, or reliable at all - as a matter of fact, he even expects the spirit to attack them alongside with Archon, but...

There's one thing clear, neither side would give up the powerful relic without a fight. And if they tried to simply take it, without resolving this dispute? They might as well team up, just to take out the team.

"Apprehend the Archon."

A single sentence, and the staff was drawn. The number of undead prepared themselves for combat, their stares pointed at the Demon, with the Storm conjured by Arthur looming over everyone's head.

There was no favour for Demons today.
(Arthur Rowan)

Joy believed it.

To the Oscuri, her eyes are glazed over with mute fury. A spiritual conflict that couldn't end - wouldn't end. Reliving a hay day of war and bloodshed underneath the influence of Lord Azrael.

"Are you Veleros?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. "Is this a game to you? Are you the puppeteer or the puppet? Reliving your glory days or simply playing with spirits like dolls? Tasked with the duties of protecting Lord Azrael's most prized possession, and instead, you trap spirits here to play war until when? His return?"

Eyes darken at such an accusation. "Oscuri are the children of the Morninglord, and yet, they have been nothing but disappointment over, over, and over - and those of us who aren't capable of being blessed with such a gift have to sit aside and watch you waste our time. Sickening."
(Joy Rowan)


Arthur Rowan says, "--Joy, I know."
Arthur simply nods at her, as if simply to play along.
(Arthur Rowan)


Joy Rowan says, "I say apprehend them all; they have absolutely no business with the Relic of Lord Azrael."
How could one anticipate running into such a scene without any notice whatsoever? The obstacles are tossed aside with ease, a soft sigh having escaped her person as she attempted to remain focus. Just what lied ahead? She isn't particularly sure until the path ahead is clear, and they are there to witness the struggle between that of an Archon, and one of Azrael's blessed.

Reinforcements? Mmn, perhaps they were mistaken, but it is with Joy's question that she hums softly.

There was some truth to it, some things that left one to question whether or not he'd be different than the few she's encountered, but common sense gave weight to respond quickly. To subdue the Archon and remove the hindrance so that their questions could be answered in a suitable fashion.

"Shame, I suppose we'll find out soon though. I'm hoping that such isn't the case. Either way, start with the demon. They've never had much use for us from the get-go."
(Rea Valenta)

The words to apprehend the demon leave your mouth, and it acts. The Oscuri is suddenly and viciously impaled through the center of mass by the Archons clawed hand, occultic power erupting from his back in a horrid gout.

Tossed aside, the red-skinned and feminine thing turned to face you all, leaving you no chance to interrogate him, though...

You knew he'd be reforming soon enough.

"Trapped, and the first... First LIVING THINGS ATTACK ME? Fine, BE TRAPPED WITH ME!"

Tanastha has sustained a grevious injury in battle...

The battle was intense, as it should be. The Archon was furious, a near mindless being, trapped in a perpetual war it wished to leave behind, unable to leave, unable to even claim lasting victory over spirits.

Many times over, if one of you had not intervened on the others behalf, you would have succumbed to injury, or perhaps worse.

And yet, neither could you claim satisfaction for having bested the spectral Archon. As residual flesh faded to nothing, you had the unsatisfactory conclusion that...

It'd simply be back.

As you recovered, the Oscuri began to reform.

The unfortunate ploy was apparent.

But while Arthur knew that there's no way to avoid the combat previously, perhaps finding the relic- and perhaps anything else they can lay their hands on- he didn't expect the spirits to be back this soon. There's only hoping that completely reforming more powerful spirits would take longer than it did with the minions, and Arthur's eyes darted to the source of the Divinity that Oscuri was protecting all along.

"We have no time! Bei, grab the key!"

"Get what you need, but hurry, and prepare for combat once again! These beings might come back sooner than we think!"

Meanwhile, the undead began a quick, even rushed search through the chamber; if there was anything of use, they'd certainly grab it for themselves to carry out of here. And if they'd be unfortunate to get into some trap? Not sucha great loss, at least... besides, these spirits cannot smite the undead while Valmasians keep them occupied, can they?

And just like that, Adjudicator wasted no time. He made a sprint to the flow of source he felt in the air - it's now or never. If he does not acquire the Relic now, all their efforts could be in vain.

Perhaps, they could even lose themselves here.
(Arthur Rowan)

"This is perpetual. Its not going to end until we get to the source."

The Oscuri. The one that's preventing the spirits from leaving the fortress peacefully. Averting the Passover, but not in a way that would grant Necromancy a boon. To Joy, it seemed sacrilegious to utilize such resources and time like this.

Perhaps, it was the punishment for invaders. Perhaps, he set them in a never-ending battle as a result of entering the Keep.

To those who also sought Lord Azrael's blessings, however? It was an utter waste of time.

"Defeating the Archon isn't going to end this," Joy pants, holding to her staff - her gothic dress a haphazard mess around her body from the rumbling of the battle. Wiping her mouth with a torn, silk sleeve, she huffs in impatience and jealously of the Archon's unbridled power. Before she could get a taste, it had disappeared.

There would be more where that came from if they didn't act, quickly, however.

"We need Veleros to make it all end."
(Joy Rowan)

Truly was the fight at hand something vicious, the amount of magic that took shape nearly impossible to keep track of as they assailed the enemy. The occult at her disposal had not faltered any when given the opportunity to thrive, the element curling within to form a barrier and shield its caster from the Archon's might.

With a defensive posture taken, the Valenta only aimed to act out in combination with that of her allies, the arcane supplementing her attacks with a force that could not be ignored.

The battle raged on, until they were considered its temporary victor, and while it felt natural to cheer, to relax, it seemed there were many other things that'd take precedence. Her conscious remained at a heightened state, arcane energies ever brimming when called upon by the Valenta.

"Just stay prepared... Stay focused."

She would contain the combatant role, and fend off whatever came should it be considered an obstacle.
(Rea Valenta)

Inhale, exhale.

 She discards the steel and utilizes her flesh. It is, perhaps, one of the first times that she would go back to relying upon her own instinctual necessities. A moment, when the drakaness' frame would shift and crackle underneath the pressure. The weight of the world upon her shoulders tensing time and time again-- her teeth grinding against one another, blood spilling past her lips, dripping from her nose as she pushes herself past the limit with each and every time.

Crrkkt..

 It is within the midst of combat that they would be able to see her fly amongst mental blasts, her frame supporting by the sheer force of reality...Her leg whipping out viciously, sending a horrendous crack amongst the lands, as if, her own limb could possibly tear a whole within the fabric of space and time itself.

Fwhip!!"

 Sickening, twisted, with the ending of the battle...Her frame would rush quickly, arms flexing, quite literally attempting to grasp the male to pull him away along with them to the vault. It's the only way...It's the only way to end this. "The key!- you have the key, yes? Come-...Come with us to the vault so we can finish this!" The relic. The ending. It seemed to be the only way...Right? Or is she simply a fool?
(Bei Rowan)

The very divinity they sought to grab was what Veleros held. He was reforming around it, more rapidly than the others. More rapidly than the Archon even.

He appeared in his form, blade in his hand, staring at the rest. "Don't - don't attack me!" He cried, brandishing it defensively. Given that you'd hardly whispered your conversation, your potential plans for him and the Archon both...

Magic radiated.

"I can help you, but not if you try to just mindlessly kill me like that thing. So, listen to me, you've got about five minutes."

The battle had been unlike any she'd encountered before, so much so that it had given her a new outlook on the ultimate dance. Dancing through falling meteors, calling upon torrents of water and working alongside the strongest of the Valmasians. She had not felt any thrill like this before, true battle against ancient and powerful forces.

The Silver haired dancer fought hard, having made a couple mistakes and paid for them. Having fallen for a moment she rose to fight again.The Sarradian used her ice magic well, calling upon blizzards and typhoons to weave herself a web throughout the battlefield.

As it concluded, the dancer found herself surprisingly unscathed, still a beauty to marvel even in the most difficult times. She would keep her Scythe out, If she was to find anything of use she would do so by following the Necromancer, after all her goal was to regain his favor as well as uncovering any knowledge she could to controlling the dead beyond what she already held.

She would wait, on the defensive, following Arthur and watching the Oscuris reformation. Perhaps that was what they searched for?
(Nihilexia Wight)

The Adjudicator stopped, if only briefly- there's little reason to actually trust the Oscuri, but there's no desire either to repeat yet another fight; his people could become injured or even die, and what sort of a leader he is if he would allow that to happen?

"Then speak, and quickly!"

"We're here to end this endless cycle, and we're here to retrieve the relic for things better than keeping spirits in eternal cage of their battles?"

"How? How do we do that?"

It's obvious that Rowan is in a hurry, and occasionally, he side-glances at Archon who's reforming. It'd be a shame to linger around by the time it's back.
(Arthur Rowan)

"Do you think I *WANT* to be trapped here with them?" He yelled back. The archon hasn't even begun to reform, lending credence to the Oscuri's words.

"Do you think I'm here on purpose, fighting and dying and coming back to die and die again? Do you know what a THOUSAND DEATHS FEELS LIKE? TEN THOUSAND?"

He looked around. "It was a spell gone wrong. The artifact, I was lied to. It was supposed to bring my men back, but it didn't work like I was told. It brought back the souls, the spirits. It kept them here, kept me bound. It bound you too, when you came here. You could feel it, couldn't you? It's a shackle, not some ring of power."

The artifact was a gem, sticking out of a headband around his forehead.

"It has to be taken. We're all already dead - it needs the living. It'll break the curse."

Is that all that he required?

The artefact that was capable of forcing the souls to stay bound to this realm over and over was, in truth, exactly what they needed. If only they could attune it properly to the project that they've been making, it would mean a breakthrough in Necromancy as an Art.

And the breakthrough for all of those afflicted by Death.

"That's exactly what we came here for!"

Adjudicator exclaims. Though masked, somewhat, it's easy to tell just what sort of expression there is underneath- one in a hurry, mixed in a cocktail of desperation, longing and passion for the things he's been doing. He's just one step away from getting what he yearned for so many years.

"We were here to take it away from the island, to improve upon the relic's function and purpose it for something greater, for something that would allow people to live whole again."

"We're ready to take it with us."

Arthur extended his hand out, as if awaiting for Oscuri to provide him with the gem; in the end, it would come off as a lie at best, if he actually forced the Oscuri to give up the gem - no matter the fact that his words were indeed the truth.

"And you could be free at last. All of them could be free."
(Arthur Rowan)

The crown came from the Oscuri's head, handed over by the rim. Finally, the Archon had started to reform, this one around its weapon. It leaped forward, but its hand had not yet formed, falling short of the crown.

Arthurs hand didn't.

Centuries of residual magic and hateful energy built around a single curse did not break lightly. There was a very physical explosion as the crown exploded, only the gem remaining. Somehow though, Arthur was without injury, even as a wave of magic radiated out. The shackles that had burdened the living souls faded.

The Archon was the first spirit to fall to nothing, for it had been the first slain by the curse. With a horrid scream, it fell, imploding as its life was torn away in an instant. A heavy, metallic crash rang as its stave impacted the ground.

All across the Fortress, more spirits fell, their eternal prison suddenly lifting, until only Veleros stood before you, the last.

"It was supposed to be our salvation. The demons came before I could finish it... We were so close to..." He faded, sword clattering to the ground behind him.

As the gem was touched, you were blessed with a name. Its name.

The Morninglords Dream.

Veleros drops Unsung.

Veleros picks up Unsung.

Veleros drops Unsung.

Tanastha drops Blaazkul.

"Arthur Rowan, by the Morninglord's name, you did it!"

Breathing harshly from the indication of the battle, Joy's annoyance and accusations vanish at the sight of obtaining the inkling of Lord Azrael's power. She claps harmoniously, her gaze blitzing wildly between jealously and happiness. They were one in the same, in this instance. Arthur's accomplishment had been New Valmasia's accomplishment.

"One step closer... this is the key. The spirits are gone; the vault should be capable for us to open now. We need whatever is in it. Anything that may bring us closer to learn more of the Divine War and Lord Azrael is of utmost importance."
(Joy Rowan)

An explosion.

Even though Arthur was unharmed by it after already grasping the gem, there's a palpable force that knocks him down and slightly away from the sheer power of it; there was not enough time to react, and while spilling a sharp inhale after exhale, he touches across his own face, only to realize that the mask was not cracked.

That's good. He didn't get hurt, it seems.

Rising to his feet promptly, he stared at the vanishing Archon, almost feeling the thousand spirits passing on at last to their peace- it's a good thing that this island was 'cured' now, else they could not find a proper exit out of here. What they had now was the divine power of Azrael's blessing in their hand.

The eyes underneath the mask travelled down, unravelling the gem in his hand. Almost as if he was hypnotized by it, he stares, before his eyesight suddenly turns to Oscuri.

"You've done enough, Azrael's Chosen. Rest well."

There are no other words, and instead, Arthur walks over to inspect the weaponry on the ground. He picks both of them up, one after another, and ponders...

Just how powerful they could be? But he already had a staff of his own, which means that these would go to someone else.
(Arthur Rowan)

She breathes in. And then out.

 Relief comes within the form of a gentle sigh. Her hands falling briefly to the pommel of her blade as she shares elation with Joy and the others. Happiness...but also, jealousy. In some strange way, one could believe that she only wondered what it'd be like to have that type of glory. To wear something akin to a crown. To save a certain type of people from the wrath of an Archon.

 It isn't sinful...But simply, the 'happy' type that appears. In the end though, she merely nods, her lithe frame turning as she speaks. "Joy's right...We should go back and check on the vault. If these spirits have disappeared, then that means that the treasure is still present. There's still a lot more for us."
(Bei Rowan)

Lexia watched in awe as the spirits faded to their final resting place, such power in the single gem that rested upon the crown. Quickly though she composes herself, looking at the weapons at the ground with curiosity.

Clearly there were others who could use them far better than she, her true goal in this endeavor was knowledge. What she had gained so far was a sense of familiarity from the sensation of tethered spirits, undead and the like.

The staff however did catch her eye and she hoped to get a good look at it, should the stronger Valmasians not be interested in it. Silently she turned to Arthur, watching his moment of glory as he received the Morninglords dream, she had succeeded in helping the Adjudicator in his goals.

If no one else went for the staff she would gladly take it.
(Nihilexia Wight)

"Congratulations Arthur, we are one step to achieving the goal promised to the Morninglord."

And it is ever apparent that even those not blessed could achieve great feats if their hearts were steady. If one's power could boast success beyond what was a necessity. While she too, housed just the slightest embers of envy, a soft hum escapes her person, and for once the workings of an oscuri could be commended out within these fields.

"I suppose all that's left is to acquire what we came for, and then everything will fall into place."

While the weapons left behind truly would warrant interest, the magi felt herself anticipating their progress more. After all, this is what she'd still been living for.
(Rea Valenta)

Exploration to the vault was rapid with half the group able to lead the way. Only bodies remained, and now with the gem, it was easy to see what had occured. The demons had attacked the keep, and in some last ditch effort to save it, Veleros had channeled some necromantic spell through it.

And instead of salvation, he'd cursed them all.

The vault door remained, the protective wards strong but without the powerful spirit that had guarded it. It seemed to respond to the gem, and when Arthur approached with it in hand, it seemed to lower of its own accord into the ground.

Revealing a small, personal armory. An armory age has not been kind to.

Old weapons and armor lay within, some relics and useless as anything but trophies, others too pitted and rusted to be of any use.

Infact, none of the equipment within would be of any use, except, perhaps, as scrap. Perhaps if they'd arrived centuries earlier...

Joy Rowan says, "...Not a single book. My heart. < *she presses against her chest.* > Well, we have the most important part, at the very least. "


Nihilexia Wight says, "Hmm.. It would have been nice to find something more I could have used for my studies.."

Arthur Rowan says, "I'll share the notes with you that we have acquired from last expedition."

Nihilexia Wight exclaims, "Oh! Thank you!"

Rea Valenta says, "Well, I've my own journey to complete. This was refreshing though. "

Joy Rowan says, "We must still be wary. Veleros tried a spell with the Relic and failed and trapped the souls inside of the fortress. We can't make that same mistake."
At last, their mission is done.

Now that the land was cured, the spirits released, and everything they could take was taken, there was no reason for them to linger anymore. Though, Arthur remained oddly silent on the way back, contemplating on all of the possibilities that could be done with this gem.

As a matter of fact, this is just how he imagined the design of the project.

The gaze of masked Adjudicator turned towards the rest of Valmasians. Surely, they still had a lot of work to do, but this gem was the breakthrough they all needed so much. This gem was the reason as to why their dream might be just achievable.

"Yes, we shall be careful with it. There's a lot of power hidden in this gem, the power that can do much evil in the wrong hands."

"But we've done great work here today. Each and every of you deserves a good rest."

"For now, it's time we go home."
(Arthur Rowan)