wiping malentine's black shit

[19:36] {NARRATION} The trip to the mountains was not a fast one, nor a particularly eventful one. Nothing in particular accosted those that took the trip, all the way to the spreading storm that centered on Malentines ungodly rift.

Black, tar-like rain began to pour down, impossible to completely avoid. If it was shielded from above, it was stepped in, cloaked dragged, it got onto wings. The stench of corruption and rot pervaded the air like a bog. Paths were rendered quaqmires of desolation.

Too long had it gone unfought. Villages, rotted, destroyed hulks of their former selves were found, only bones and bodies left behind as people fled from the storm that expanded ever outwards.

How far the travelers went was up to them, for only they could truly determine that they were even doing.

It was their ritual to conduct, after all.
[19:41] Angelo continued on. His clothes continued covering nearly every inch of his body. Even if it meant he couldn't have that much comfort moving forward, he still had to. Every step was taken with strength; Celestial magic, made of mixed holy and cosmic energies, moved forward to try and cleanse the path. Even if it meant partially getting some in his clothes, it was more than entirely.

He never knew when these would grow sentient. "Try to keep yourselves clean. We need to... I think I learned a bit on what that angel did. We need the help-- Probably would allow us to go up there and escape easily." He continued, before letting out a sigh.

"How far up are we going? We might need to question Malentine soon, and the time is now to do it."
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[19:43] Feeling the corruption was not difficult. Nor was seeing its more physical effects, particularly in the steady beating of oily, ichor rain. Their march to the mountain takes them past all the outward signs of Malentine's long-standing effects on the land.

Long has it been her duty to scrub clean these signs of corruption. This is no different than Eidolon, no different than Atl. Madmen making messes in the wake of their avarice and greed. A tale as old as humanity, perhaps even older, and one that will continue no doubt long after she becomes dust.

And thus she trudges onward, folding wings beneath her poncho, to this Sisyphian task that lies before their band.

"What what angel did? And just how far up do we need to go?"
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[19:45] The long and arduous trip to the mountain gave Shen time to think of the question that he posed to the angel back in Huangzhou, and the answer that he was given. It was a reflective journey, no doubt. Having received an answer that was true without a shadow of a doubt to a question that humanity had pondered for hundreds of years?

It was life changing.

By the time they made it to the mountains, it was the sickening mana radiating from the area that snapped him out of his trance-like state. The Qilin shook his head, quickly springing to action upon noticing the rain overhead. His own body was protected by veil of energy magic, a shield.

Keep yourself clean. As confusing as this ordeal was, that was something that he could focus on. "I don't know what I'm meant to be doing here, but I'll help in any way I can." he told the group. He was an order magi himself, but he hadn't honed his skills nearly as much as those around him. Powerful; however, he was a novice compared to them.

"So, what's the plan?"
(Shen)
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[19:47] Pristine and white, even the dark green of the pines are mostly coated in the crystalline snow, and yet... with each passing moment, with each step that they took towards their destination, signs up life would disappear. Corruption was more than felt, once the familiar, blackened rain begins to pour down, the Shogun merely allowed the brief, soft presence of Arcane to shroud along, acting as a bit of shield all the while-- even if not enough to completely avoid the contact.

He hated it.

The stench, the sensation, the sight-- he hated all of it.

Quietly would he reach out to dig into those pockets, fingers grasping along a certain, pulsating shard-- one that contained spirit of a warden in itself... they were given intel, but it was quite vague, and it was up to them to figure out the next step, after all.

Right beside the shard, remain tucked yet another crystalline object-- one that much more corrupted. A pulsating heart of sorts.

Shifting about, he'd aim to stick closer to any sign of trees or shrubs nearby.

"Use... the darkness as covers-- and anything that helps us hide from plain sight. Let's keep on moving until we see... a movement-- we're not here to take on the swarm of Nethradin, that's suicidal, but... any information we can find out-- how to utilize the artifacts, or anything critical. If we... run into him, or so."

Well, then.

"Even better... but for now, we continue on, as hidden as possible-- until we can find a direction to hold onto. From what the Warden said, we need to aim for... a Head of sorts-- and that can potentially eliminate the entire plague, meanwhile this... heart-" with a pause, he'd merely tug out the chaotic artifact from earlier, one they received all those years ago... following Bai's death. "--it's supposed to the first step. See where that leads us."
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[20:10] {NARRATION} For the longest time, there was no direction. Not even a general 'path', all roads and walkways artificially eroded by the chaotic destruction brought about. Unrestrained, uncaring, it ruined everything in its path. The attack on Dawn was more proof of this, of how unbiased it was even to the vampries that helped bring it into the world.

A chime suddenly radiated through the air. Felt by the order magi. A beacon to teh chaotic.

"Close..." A faint voice, a whisper on the wind, gone again, imparting more than audible words.

The 'heart' you carried with you, the words of connection to the rest. Direction suddenly came into focus. A ritual in proximity to the disaster, to abuse the connection that the dead and still disturbingly alive heart possessed.

To shatter it and hopefully others with the essence of a warden you had been gifted.
[20:18] A direction. A clear chime through all the corruption and darkness. They were close. She knows what has to be done. And if rituals aren't something she can do, she doesn't know what she -can- do. Her scars and her work with spirits are testament enough to her expertise in that field.

How fortunate she still has so much blood and life left to shed in pursuit of a righteous cause.

She can only assume the rest felt or heard it as she had, the clarion call to purpose. Ohtli's slit eyes swivel over and watch them, waiting, in hopes that they are prepared to act as one.

To finally sever the head of the beast upon the mountain.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[20:20] Shen followed Zeriel's instructions. It was all he could do. His mind was in a disarray after witnessing the rot, the stench. It wasn't something that he had built up a tolerance to, at least not as much as the other mountain-goers. It was hard to think straight with the corruption he felt, so he needed to place his faith in the Heifang.

As if he'd know what the guy was talking about with a clear head anyway. As mentioned before, the Qilin was a novice to the arcane. He may have been able to lend a helping hand with the influence that he had, but the briefing he had on the mission was too vague. It made his head hurt to think about. If it helped to get rid of this however, he'd readily oblige.

Sticking closer to the nearby trees and using the darkness as covers, he tried to keep himself hidden as instructed. Trying not to garner any unneeded attention, he didn't want to be the one to mess this up for them. His direction was Zeriel's direction, which was nothing. Aimlessly wandering the pathless tundra, keeping himself silent.

The chime made him shudder, causing the man to perk up as he looked from side to side. 'What was that?' he mouthed, but he wouldn't speak a word. Then, the voice. They had been noticed. There was no doubting that now. Shen reached for his weapon, his grip finding the hilt of his sword but not yet unsheathing it.

His gaze shifted to each of the order magi in attendance, awaiting a plan to act on.
(Shen)
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[20:22] Arcane flickers, once more, and the hushed whispers embrace along those senses yet once again-- much like during the last expedition. Much like their journey into Helheim.

Embracing along their consciousness, as soon as it passes, pale hues wander about, glancing in the direction of each and every one of the mages present. A faint, frosted breath escaping against the wintry surroundings afterwards.

"If... such is the case, then-- we're likely close enough."

Coming to a softer halt, he'd briefly glance along the mountain path, leading up to the top where source of plague resides. Blizzard practically rattles against his cloak, making it twist and turn against the northern current, though he'd merely shake his head once before glancing back in Angelo's direction, then Ohtli.

"Once we defeated the larger Nethradin, and the heart exposed itself-- most the smaller ones around it vanished... if we can abuse the connection after all, on a wider scale... destroy it--"

Another, quieter pause, and quietly reach out to offer both the artifacts towards his mentor, and the spiritmancer.

"--supported by the shard... you two are undoubtedly most fit for the task, specially you, Lady Ohtli."

With that, he'd take a single, smaller step backwards, allowing the elders to proceed-- and aid them in whatever ways required. Whether it be the presence of Arcane, or his own abilities.

(Zeriel Heifang)
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[20:23] {Item} You picked up Pulsing Heart. Dropped by Zeriel Heifang. .
[20:28] Very well, this meant they had a goal. It meant that he could do something, and then, at the mention of such... He grabbed the heart itself on one hand, and then moved to the side, towards Ohtli. "If need be, I'll take the brunt of any hits that come to us both." He stated, his sterner-than-usual voice making it clear that such a thing wasn't up for contest.

"Which means we'll have to unite these two, probably. They... Are anathema. One is meant to clash with the other." He let out a sigh, and rose the heart in front of him. It couldn't be seen, but his expression shifted.

This was far more serious than most of what he had done. "This will gather attention. We'll need you two to fight off the smaller ones while we can't, and... It's your thing to purify others, Ohtli."

"Just likeit's my thing to fight against whatever comes to fight us. Let's prove that age got nothing on us, yes?" He speaks, nigh nostalgic. It still isn't seen, but there is a small sentiment of cheeriness in his voice. "Should we just connect them both, and bind them together with the Lifestream, so the shard's energy flows into it?"
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[20:30] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "Are you sure we shouldn't go further up the mountain? We will have only once chance with this..."
[20:30] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "A little farther maybe, at least."
[20:30] Angelo Sanguinis says, "... Probably."
[20:31] Shen says, "Give him a break, he can't see."
[20:31] Shen says, "Just show him where to go."
[20:33] Angelo Sanguinis whispers: That was mean.
[20:33] A slight smile from the Drakan as Angelo becomes chipper in such a bleak place. It is, as he says, her 'thing'. Her purpose, her duty. She understands it as much as she understands it is 'Eagleheart's' duty to defend. Not that she has to like it.

"Binding them is an option, yes. And as you say, it will likely draw attention. So long as we are prepared...perhaps it will not be so bad."

Ohtli glances over the others, gauging their readiness.

"Somewhere a little further up then. Where there will be plenty of cover and a more defensible position. We're in agreement?"
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[20:35] Angelo Sanguinis says, "I believe so."
[20:35] Angelo just starts moving up anyway.
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[20:36] Shen says, "Yeah."
[20:36] Shen had no idea what anyone was talking about, so he had to be in agreement. He'd just follow wherever the Shogun went.
(Shen)
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[20:36] Zeriel merely nods a tad, before he'd follow along-- the decision was up to Angelo and Ohtli.
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[20:44] Soon enough, they were further up. Nearing the peak, even. His aura was timid; He was, after all, looking to not attract much of an attention. The heart in his hand emitted a far more potent threat than he could put up to overwhelm, and in fact, he wasn't trying.

He was trying to act like a Nethradin. To move among them with the confidence that this signal of Chaos would stop them from aggressing towards any of the group. After all, he did his own effort to move like a single unit with them.

Each step of mythril was heavy, his weight shifting between feet. Still, when they arrived... He simply rose the heart forward, with one of the many weapons he brought with him in his hand; A shortsword, one he kept with him since the early days. Faith, from... Bauk himself. A gift from Ming. She gave him that sword, and he gave her what he could of a settlement.

Back when he was a boy. This sword meant something to him. Perhaps this was why he used it; The sword was quickly positioned against it, and he prepared to push it inside, opening for the shard to be put inside. Yet, his head continues staring forward.

It never moved.

"Ready?"
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[20:48] "They may already know we're here...If we can feel their corruption, I can only imagine they can feel this coming too," she remarks, nodding to the heart in Angelo's hand.

"So...be ready is what I mean."

Ohtli draws up her sleeve and takes out her old, well-worn knife. They might have reservations about her using her own blood for fuel, but they weren't the ritualists. Were they?

"I am ready. When the rest of you are braced, say something and we can begin."
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[21:07] {NARRATION} The chosen site was as good as any. Flat and boggy, lifeless rotten trees poking from the muck, their leaves gone, their bark ragged and black. A cold wind could be felt, biting through armor with its unnatural chill, the stone never stopping, never halting for the briefest of moments.

A long, dragged out moan could be heard on the wind, but nothing came for now. Still, it was not wise to linger. Not with two powerful beacons in possession, one of chaos and one of order.

Anathema was the right word to use to describe them, such vile opposites that merely holding them close was like trying to force two repelling magnets against each other.

Magic pulsated. The ingredients were ready, even if the participants weren't.

It was merely up to those using them to begin.
[21:12] Coming to a brief halt, he'd take slow, small steps backwards all the while. Eyes aim to glance past the blizzard present... while the cold never quite bothered him, well, it did feel dreadful in the moment, to say the least. The sounds against currents is all too clear-- they were close, so close, even... and the ritual to take place would-- certainly attract attention, if anything.

Yet, they had one-shot. One chance it... he merely wished nothing would go wrong.

His aura remains diminished, as if to not gravitate any attention towards himself, and just as quietly would the Shogun watch, prepared-- ready, regardless of how things went from here onwards.
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[21:16] That distant howl might well be encroaching hordes on the way to overcome them like an avalanche. Or it might only be wind through the trees, their lingering spirits lamenting the decay and rot that surrounds them.

If it's the latter, then her work here will be for those poor spirits. If it's the former, then the sooner she gets this show on the road the better.

"Hold them steady, Angelo," she bids him, methodically stepping in a circle around their group with steady, measured footfalls. Each one erodes away at the rot and decay that has taken hold, returning the ground to some semblance of life. Though she's small her steps make imprints in the muck and mire, impressions that fill with water and then give rise to flickering flames of blue.

The circle she makes, all of azure fire, forms a barrier around their motley troupe. She returns to the center with her knife in hand.

Some present knew how she worked and just how her rituals were done. Others, perhaps, not so much. There are those that might call it barbaric. Vile. For her it is only natural.

Ohtli is eerily calm as she takes the sacrificial dagger and jams it into the upper part of her forearm, dragging it down to let the blood flow. The wall of flames around them grows only hungrily higher.

Power in life, power in blood, and she offers it freely to the remaining shard of the Warden's essence. Along with a prayer.

"Grow strong with this offering. Overcome the wickedness in this place. Bring to heel the dark forces that taint this land."
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[21:17] Angelo stares at Ohtli. He rises the heart closer to her, putting it in the air. And then, with the blade slowly sinking into the heart, he presses forth to cut an opening. Faith is slowly sent to the side, exposing the opening as if it was just waiting for something to be put inside.

The soothing chime envelops the grip, and keeps it in the same place. Meanwhile, the hand that was there slowly rises... The gauntlet is removed, and he exposes the now nude hand on top of the heart, opening his palm towards Ohtli.

"I suppose mine will help as well." He spoke, as still as he could. After all, he wasn't about to let her be the only one bleeding there.

He had a Gehennan raising to hold up to, in the end.
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[21:22] Two offerings of blood cannot go amiss. It comes as a small surprise, then she remembers; he'd been there in Ezmara too, so long ago when it was full of life. Before Huangzhou was so much as a twinkling in someone's thoughts.

Some might think it profane, but such an offering of sacrifice she can't turn down. She nods. Even if the gesture is entirely lost on him.

Ohtli treats his flesh with more consideration than her own, taking his wrist in her good but shaking hand- used to pain, but not immune to the consequences of blood-letting- and opens a long, deep cut across his skin.

Blood flows. More fuel for the ritual.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[21:41] {NARRATION} Perhaps attempting to imbue the pure soul of a warden with blood ritual wasn't the greatest idea, but it was a little late to back out now. Magic swelled, surely acting as a beacon to the Nethradin if the abyssal heart and warden spirit weren't. A beacon to call them.

It was good that the ritual had those to stand guard over it, for it would surely need them. Every force had an opposite reaction, and as land was cleansed, as a pool of untainted land began to spread from where Ohtli walked, corruption closed in.

The Nethradin were coming.

The spirit grew stronger still, and what had been an equal battle of wills began to tilt in one sides favor. The heart groaned, a cry emanating from it. A cry of anger, of pain.

A cry for help.

Best to prepare now.
[21:51] Shen watched with a concerned expression at the morbid ritual. He wasn't one to speak on these kinds of matters, but something about this didn't feel right to him. Seeing their wrists get cut open and performing some kind of blood sacrifice wasn't easy on the eyes, especially when done by two people whom he respected.

But, it was his duty to protect them while they went through with it. If that was the one thing he'd be trusted with while they embarked on this journey, you better believe that he wasn't going to fail. The feeling of corruption closed in from all directions as they attempted to cleanse the land.

".. Hey, Zeriel. It's our turn."

The Nethradin were coming indeed. But from such a height, he felt more close to the Emperor than ever. He felt like these mountains brought him closer to the higher planes, and this faith returned power to him in spades. A tug on his soulbond brought in a wealth of raw mana, his form lighting up with a cerulean incandescence.

The fiery blue glow of his aura illuminated the area, reflecting that they were no longer being stealthy about this. When the Nethradin approached and he was fighting for a cause as great as this one, he felt his connection with the arcane becoming greater. Alongside the Shogun, he unsheathed his sword and prepared to oppose the encroaching horde while a faint arcane presence emanated from him.
(Shen)
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[21:54] The flicker in lifestream is more than felt-- and the impact was quite clear all the while. Slowly does it expand and he could practically sense the movement in distance-- they were closing in. The corruption was closing in. Even as the lands began to cleanse, even as their ritual took place, it was more than clear that they simply wouldn't be completing their task-- that they simply wouldn't be walking off without a... confrontation, or so.

The Nethradin were coming.

As the presence of Arcane flares wild, he'd only reach out to grasp along the hilt of the frosted blade, Aurora. Just as quickly is it unsheathed, and tip finding itself slamming into the snow before larger, wider walls of ice practically explode from the grounds underneath.

They stand tall, shrouding the area around them, yet he knew that they wouldn't be of much help in the moment-- though, if he could prolong their arrival by even a split second, he was more than willing to try.

Gripping tightly at his blade and standing closer to the Arbiter, he'd take his stance, nodding ever so slightly. It was their turn, after all.

He was prepared.
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[21:56] Relief floods her as the Warden's spirit grows in strength, the Nethradin's waning. But the earsplitting, soul-quaking cry for help changes things.

Naturally, they've become more of a beacon than before. More magic, more of a signature, and then the foe's cry for help only makes it worse. They will be converging here. It's only a matter of time.

Her arm flares in pain, even as it continues to trickle blood. The last few drops of fuel. But through the pain cuts a clear thought.

"Angelo. You can help them. I can try to keep this going. I can...I can keep offering more. They're already coming. The faster this ends the faster they'll be without their head."

Her mythril hand doesn't tremble so much as the good one does, and it is the one that sets the sacrificial knife's blade up near the joint of her shoulder in contemplation.

A greater sacrifice provides greater results. A universal truth in her line of work. If it would cleanse the mountainside, if it would drive out the nethradin and send them back...what was the loss of an arm or a limb to such a thing.

"If you need me to turn and fight with you all...say the word. Otherwise I'll help finish this as quickly as I can."
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[22:01] He didn't like that suggestion. It was clear, even in that emotionless face; He didn't like that -at all-. He actually moves his head down towards where her knife pressed, where he felt it coming to. He nearly started shaking his head, but in the end, he knew it was fruitless.

He let out a nearly spat out word. "Don't allow the situation to get the best of yourself." He spoke, before finally moving one hand to stop the bleeding, holy magic rushing to heal the wound that was made. Circuitry shone with cosmic energies.

"Yell if you need help." He seemed to be -really- concerned with that ritual itself, but she was right. He could help them instead, and...

Hammer moved to his hand, dragged in a single movement. "Focus on keeping them at bay!" He continued, cosmic energies focusing around himto build a shield of holy energy. Not entirely a dome, but something to simply force them to stay in front of him.

Small, but enough to make sure that Ohtli could continue with the ritual. It had always played like that in his mind, at least.
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[22:19] {NARRATION} Come they did.

They could be seen, felt, heard all at once. Shambling horrors the size of horses, of bears and other creatures with claws capable of rending apart men with terrible ease. Things that had forced themselves into stolen armor of the dead, wearing the stolen visage of man and yet so disengaged from it, so disrespectful.

More rose from the muck around, circling the barrier cautiously, testing it. They seemed not to care about the exorcist magics, only the order that held them at bay.

Not even that could hold against such a horde, however. It was clear that if the ritual failed, all four would die here, overwhelmed, a valiant but fruitless last stand against horrors of the abyss.

More blood poured, the magic so powerful that it glowed like a beacon, shining so bright.

Earthshaking steps could be felt coming in from the distance as the first creatures came through the bottleneck, charging in. Too many for four to handle.

Too many for an army to handle.
[22:26] He had to make sure the ritual would continue. They all had a choice, and they all had to make sure it would succeed. Even if it meant they had to force them to a different position. "Try to spot any bigger ones!" Angelo spoke, hammer hitting against whatever Nethradin came to close.

Eventually, they'd seep through. But he seemed more concerned with something else. Head still turned forwards, almost immobile, he asked a loud question. "Do you need any help, Ohtli?"

Obviously, he needed that to succeed.

It didn't matter what it'd take.
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[22:32] Too many.

Too fucking many.

Fighting them wasn't the ideal option-- hell, it wasn't an option at all.

It was too much for them, it was too much for an entire army-- and even though his stance remains unshakable, faintest hint of panic does grace along those senses. They needed to hurry up.

As those eyes squeeze shut in the moment, and feet plant firmly along the snowy grounds underneath, he'd only aim to muster every ounce of Arcane he could manipulate-- giving every bit of himself and allowing the presence of lifestream to close in, empowering the blood sacrifice, aiding in whatever way he possibly could, aiming to fuel the Order in this clash against Chaos all the same.

"If they breach-- we won't stand a chance! The ritual, focus on it-- give it everything!. Everything we have to offer--"
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[22:37] Shen knew that he couldn't fight this horde of Nethradin, even alongside Zeriel. Even if the two performing their ritual stopped everything they were doing to keep them at bay, they couldn't win. He had extrapolated some things from their conversations. That this was the source, and that this ritual would stop them coming through.

So, this would be the Nethradins' last push for survival as much as it was theirs. The difference was, their group was vastly outnumbered. The only hope they had at getting out of this alive was the ritual that was happening behind him.

The horde had been bottlenecked, buying them time. But, this wasn't a position that they would be holding for long. Shen needed to place his faith in the ritual, because their lives were in it's hands.

"You two need to finish what you're doing, fast!" he shouted, looking back over his shoulder. Sweat accumulated on his features, despite the freezing cold temperatures. His gaze met the horde, his grip hardening on his weapon. An overwhelming feeling of doom washed over him that he tried to fight back.

That's when Zeriel told him to give it everything. But, how could he? He didn't know how.

"Alright- I'll try!"

And, so it was settled. He couldn't break his word. But, was this something that he was willing to die for? On a desolate mountain, where no one would see him fall except for those three. The three who would depend on his assistance to make it out themselves. So, they'd truly be erased for nothing.

That was the answer, then. He couldn't die.

He swallowed the emotions that were building in his throat - the fear, the dread. Those couldn't cloud him, not in this moment. This was where he would make his stand - perhaps his last stand, if all didn't go according to plan. Shen turned around and offered his aid.

That arcane presence, a dim light compared to the legendary order magi that surrounded him, was channeled into the ritual. His influence over the lifestream allowed him to further guide it towards the ritual alongside the three.
(Shen)
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[22:38] As with all other things here, she can feel them before they see them. It isn't their presence, their aura that surprises her. It is their sheer multitude. She can't tear all of her focus away to see the numbers all around, but what she can see? Is daunting.

If this doesn't go over well, if they don't cut off the head, the waves of Nethradin will wash over them like the tide over pebbles on a shore. They will not survive. They will not go home to their loved ones, their family's.

As she'd said before, she still has more to give.

She doesn't quite saw through the limb. Not yet, but she does drive the knife into the meat to draw out more blood to fuel the ritual. Ohtli can't afford -not- to. It will very well be their doom if she does it by a half measure. Her head bows, and she starts a prayer anew, louder.

"Mother of Wind, Quetzalcoatl, hear me...Lend us your power here to cleanse these lands and drive out those that defile your creations. Lend us your wisdom and cunning to defeat those that crash down on us...And lend me, your humble servant, your fortitude to make this sacrifice."

Her mythril hand trembles now too. After the bellowed prayer her voice lowers, barely above a whisper and perhaps not even audible above the stampede of Nethradin coming in through the bottleneck.

"...I'm sorry."

A spurt of spiritual flame coats her dagger and, with a roar of energy and an audible splintering, Ohtli jerks the knife downward. Her last good arm, all its scars as a testament to her work in purifying, in cleansing, in paying tribute to the spirits, falls severed from her shoulder. She cannot suppress the cry of pain as the limb tumbles to the fetid ground, lifeless.

More blood flows and pools around her and the Warden's slivered essence.

(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[22:48] Group effort? Group effort. Angelo moved his own arm back-- He did understand it meant he couldn't stop her from doing it, but. It did mean that he could try to help, just like Zeriel and Shen were doing it. He slowly moved back, still fighting them off.

And decided to drop an idea. "I can try getting it up. To the skies; And with my star, I can force it to completion. We can..." He actually had no time to answer. Amidst the combat, he simply rose the hammer up.

Fighting with the prosthetic, he aims to keep them at bay, cosmic energy channeled at his arm. It likely worked as a beacon, as well. Somewhere that energy could focus freely, if she needed any spare.
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[22:55] {NARRATION} The effect was immediate and violent. The savage *surge* of mana erupted out like a wave, hurling Nethradin back, the closest ones obliterated by the shockwave of ritualistic magic empowering the spirit of the warden. It was not a power that could be contained though, not something that could even be held.

The agony of such a power was terrible, for blood ritual was never the purest thing, never the cleanest form of mana. It was energy taken at cost, something a warden couldn't truly live with.

He screamed. He burned.

The vessel shattered, piercing through the Nethradin could, erupting.

The smaller creatures froze as if paralyzed, many falling over, their bodies unnaturally rigid. Many faded into the muck they were born from.

One did not. A creature like none of the others. It screamed in agony as its being was struck, but did not bow. Legs, too many, carrying an arachnid form stumbled forward, cracking the earth. Vile crystalline formations followed in its tracks footprints, boiling with corrupt mana that seemed to strengthen the beast.

The head was human with eight burning red eyes. An arm extended from either side, muscled splayed like wings, with no hands, only vile forked claws like some unholy pitchfork.

The very air was cancerous to breath.

But...

There was only one left among a field of the frozen dead.
[23:07] At the screaming and burning of the Warden's core, Angelo knew something was wrong. He -turned- towards her, one thing that he rarely did. At the motion of it shattering, Angelo abandoned his duty of the Nethradin. If things were going their way, they would be paralyzed, even if it meant him taking a hit or two himself.

His duty was now solely making sure that power wasn't going to hit her. One arm put across her upper chest, he dragged her armless form behind him, cosmic and holy energy rising to shield him from it. Obviously, he knew that it was likely not what she would approve, but he would still do it nonetheless.

Of course, this didn't mean he had forgotten about the other two. A shield, although weaker, rises to protect them. But someone had to do it for the armless woman. Yet, at the next one still resisting, he had to let out a single comment.

"Please tell me how worried I should be about that remaining one."
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[23:10] The outright explosion of mana was enough for him to take a single step backwards, arms lifting along as if on instincts, though those eyes squeeze shut nonetheless. He could hear the wails, he could hear the cries, and he could certainly feel the way Arcane flickered ever so wildly.

Yet, when those eyes do open and pale hues gaze along, there's a way he could feel them widen all the while-- smaller ones frozen and shattered in time, while others practically exploding in the moment-- it was... it was overwhelming, and yet...

...their ritual was successful. The plague was defeated-- corruption slaughtered, though...

One remained.

Weakened, hurt, damaged, and yet it stood tall, fought against the surge of manifested energy, fought against the clash of Order. An arachnid figure steps onward, moving towards them.

"This is the last one."

Murmured outwards, and each word to follow is accompanied by that faint, frosted breath all the while. As tired, albeit sharp eyes gaze along the sole survivor, the Shogun merely reaches out to grip, tightly, along the hilt of his Arcanium blade, shimmering in ghastly blue hue, prepared to strike.

Angelo's words did grace him, though, and he was right-- this one managed to fight through it all. This one managed to remain standing. Even if weakened... it was definitely terrifying.

"Strongest of them all, but it's hurt, greatly so... let's send it back to the abyss-- frozen there for all eternity much like the rest of them."
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[23:12] "Ohtli-" he grimaced as he watched the woman delimb herself. Did it really have to come to this? Did she have to mutilate herself just for them to survive? But, he wasn't given enough time to react. What immediately followed was a surge of mana that exploded from the ritual, blowing his hair back. It took everything he had just to stay standing.

A selfless sacrifice. And Shen couldn't have felt more guilty.

It should have been him, he thought. But, how could he have known? The answer is, it was impossible for him to have made a similar sacrifice. He wasn't well versed in Gehennan blood rituals, nor was he entirely aware of how Order magic even worked. It was something that he couldn't have done, and it made him feel that much more regret for his ignorance. That he was so woefully unprepared for this.

But, this wasn't the time for regret.

One creature stood to oppose them. A colossal beast of epic proportions. His head may have been human, but nothing else was. The feeling it gave off was overwhelming, and it's image was nightmare inducing. It reminded him of the Nethradin that they faced during the war against Baukdengrad. The difference? That time, they had an army. This time, there were four of them.

"I won't let your sacrifice be for nothing, Ohtli." he decided, and that was it. His word. Something that he couldn't take back. Even though he was sweating and shaking, he needed to steel his resolve. Even though it took everything he had to stop himself from trembling. The grip on his weapon hardened, his leylines flared bright blue.

"Give it everything you've got! We're going to need it to live!" he shouted. He needed to have faith in his allies in this moment, but his faith was also placed in the divine. In a time like this, his mind couldn't help but wander to the Emperor and his teachings. The Path of Spirit. They were going to need a miracle to make it out of this one.
(Shen)
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[23:15] She'd done all she could, but still it was not enough. The Warden's form was imperfect. He takes shape and the energy put in is just enough to lay waste to the Nethradin horde.

Ohtli doesn't have time to balk at Angelo's man-handling. He can be chastised later.

If she lives to do so. The bloodied stump of her shoulder still oozes blood. She's dizzied from its loss. No mortal creature wouldn't be. Under her own power she still manages to rise. Her remaining mythril hand unsteadily grabs for her blade.

"...Very," she replies wanly to her contemporary. Ohtli nods her dazed agreement with the Shogun and flashes an almost manic grin at Shen.

"Let's see this done then. I've got blood left in me yet."

She laughs woozily and sways as she takes a stance. The gleam in her eye holds resolve and just a little bit of frenzy. Quetzalcoatl had willed her to be standing still. Who is she to deny theMother of Winds her wish?
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[23:53] The line between life and death had never been walked this dangerously by Shen. He had been in battles that delimbed him, battles that determined the very future of Agartha. Battles against many foes of the lifestream. None of them; I repeat, none of them had given him this feeling that his life was so fragile. That just a stray attack from this monster could end Shen instantly.

Because, let's not sugarcoat it. That's what this thing was, a monster. The kind that you would only have nightmares of, the manifestation of fear and doom. The Nethradin was chaos personified, and it definitely had the power to back it up. The difference between this and a bad dream?

He couldn't just wake up from this. It dragged on and on, and the pain was real. The battle was agonizing. Never had he felt so hopeless, never had he felt so weak. After all of this time, after all of the trials he went through, it was so grounding to find something that was this powerful.

That's where he found his strength.

Because if they let this nightmare take even a step off of this mountain, it would spell disaster for the people below. After witnessing the sheer destruction this thing could bring, he felt like they were the sole line of defense against utter chaos. That if they lost, people would die. Not just them.

Shen's power didn't come from his faith in the Emperor in this moment. It didn't come from believing in any kind of deity. It didn't even come from believing in himself. It came from the burning desire to protect others. Not only the comrades that fought alongside him, but all of the lives they would save in holding it off. He found himself most attuned with the arcane when protecting others.

When he realized it wasn't just about surviving.

Blasts of arcane from the squadron of order magi pummeled the Nethradin into submission. A terrifying combination of magic was conjured by the four as they combatted the goliath, and Shen fought with renewed vigor. Energy flaring, leylines burning with a cerulean brilliance. As the battle proceeded, his fear washed away little by little. Until it wasn't there at all.

The Nethradin's eyes met Shen, barreling towards him in a trail of black ichor. His eyes lit up, securing his footing in the snow. Mana poured from his eyes, a Shengese character etched into the space above him in raw mana. When the beast came to strike Shen, he'd find that the momentum of his strike was turned against him. His own strength knocking him backwards. In that moment, he was left vulnerable for a finishing move.

"Do it now, Zeriel!"

And the rest was history.
(Shen)
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[00:05] And so it began.

In that wasteland of pristine white, powerful, larger explosions of Arcane dotted along. With the ritual empowered by their collective effort, and more importantly, by Ohtli's valiant sacrifices, it was more than clear that the Nethradin was quite weakened in the moment-- yet, did it roar, and did it fight. Sharply so.

It was a monster. The sole survivor.

And it was their responsibility to bring it down.

They were going to do just that.

Frost clings along, embracing the beast's form as sharp blasts of pure, manifested energy shower it all the same. Being the only ranged combatant of their unit, he'd try to inflict as much damage possible from a distance, sending forth larger, countless tornadoes onward, and aim to push the Nethradin back with explosions of energy as well as telekinetic push whenever it managed to get too close.

A shield of mana looms over his form every time the Shogunclosed distance, only to land stronger, powerful shockwaves before retreating back yet once again, letting icicles erupt from grounds underneath in an attempt to aid his comrades in their assault.

Eventually, it did slow down, and the increment in openings was more than clear. Clear enough for the Heifang to flash freeze those limbs of the Arachne, making it that much harder for it to move along, to shift about, leaving it further open for others to assault, bring down-- though, it is only when Shen's exclamation echoed the empty mountains would Zeriel finally glance up yet once again. The demonic form knocked backwards, exposed-- more vulnerable than ever before, and the ice magus didn't need to be told twice before going for the final blow.

Closing the distance as fast as he could possibly manage, he'd stretch those arms outwards yet once again, energies of life concentrating, gathering in a single spot, pulsating all the while, before--

--whatfollows can only be described as eruption of Arcane. The largest telekinetic blast he ever managed to bring forth, practically slamming and tearing through the creature's body, shattering it much like the rest of them, and only leaving behind ravaged, crumbled wasteland in its wake.

Once over, feet plant themselves softly, and the breaths that come along are quite ragged all the while-- heavy, heavy in the moment. Blood trickles down any open wounds, and yet... he'd only lift a single arm upwards, sleeves wiping along the forehead before his blade is sheathed yet once again.

That was the last one-- the last one of the swarm. The sole survivor of this corruption, and yet... they managed it.

To end the Nethradin plague which engulfed north-- to clear out the obstacles which held them at bay for far too long, to make a path for them to aim for in the future. To clear a path for them to bring down the Last Invidia-- as well as the rift he tore open.

Above all...

"Rest in peace..."

The words are murmured outwards, yet... they weren't exactly directed towards the lost soul which just passed on-- instead, those fingers remain clenched along a single pendant lacing his neck. Malentine still prowled about, and yet... he managed to avenge Bai, even if partially. To complete what they started-- to complete what he died for.

To make his sacrifice worth it in the end.
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[00:09] The wound where her arm was is fresh, still dripping. Through the pain, in her daze, she can almost swear she can still feel her arm there. She's still lucid enough to know, only barely, that it's gone.

Her sacred duty lies before her in this terrible, massive foe. Work to do, to end after the Warden began the onslaught with the last of his concentrated essence. After it is done, then she can rest.

Cut off the head, to lop it off and see this terrible mess done. She wishes for nothing more. In her mythril hand she holds her sword aloft. Her wings spread and she takes haphazard flight. Even dizzied she can still swoop in circles around the arachnid, slowing its multitude of limbs with gusts of wind, to harry it with blows and bursts of telekinesis and strikes of her trusty, worn blade.

There's too much at stake here. She's known it all along. It's been a long time coming to end this scourge and finally they're on the cusp of it,culling the plague that's long sat atop the mountain and gathered strength. A cancer that must be cut out- has to be cut out. If it weren't so necessary she'd have crumpled into a heap long ago. Probably right after lopping off her arm.

But no. This is Ohtli Tezcacoatl. Cleanser of Eidolon, of Atl; guide for Gehenna in its darker hours; friend to spirits and purifier of corruption. Servant of Quetzalcoatl. She fights on.

She is not the one that finally lops off the head of the Nethradin horde, but she does still stand to see the beast finally fall.

It registers to her, through the fog in her mind, that it's over. At least this leg of the journey. The last beast falls, lain low. A chance for the land to heal and return.

Relief washes over her first, plain and pure. Then exhaustion, fatigue, pain, all in that order as the rush of combat vanishes.

Ah. Right. That pesky missing arm and all her lost blood.

Oops.

(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[00:27] Angelo moved forth. It all had come to this; Years of effort, raising of other Order magi, of pursuing these when no one else could. After all, it seemed to have resulted in something. It finally meant that they could end this deal once and for all.

He was not going to back down. Even when the armies of Nethradin swarmed, he did not stop. And now that they all did, there was only one to deal with. Only one, that certainly would have crushed them in case they didn't finish this. This was the clue, and this is all that they needed so far.

But he wasn't going to allow himself to be stopped. Not now.

They were fighting furiously; Even if Ohtli was harmed, even if he himself was likely harmed as well in the fight. It meant that he had to push forward. That, in this mountain, there had to be no other way for them to come out. In the end, this meant only one thing.

He finally had the time to be happy. A long sigh is let out, even if he is not the one that put it down in the end. He had given much of himself for this cause, and now... It finally paid off. He quickly rushed towards Ohtli, holy energies amplified to the moment, aiming to at least stopping the blood flow.

"A good fight." He mutters out, weakened by the fight some. And then, he rose the hammer high up. It started shimmering with holy energy, along with his own cosmic ones. The mountains, finally cleansed.

"Should I?" He spoke, before the hammer's tip started echoing with Order, shaking itself some. It obviously meant that he wanted to send a signal. That, at the very least...

Hope had been restored.
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[00:28] Angelo Sanguinis says, "... We also have to close that portal."
[00:28] Zeriel Heifang says, "It's... a step, but it a large step-- clears path for us."
[00:28] Zeriel Heifang says, "For now... it's something."
[00:28] Zeriel only sighs a tad, before weakly nodding in Angelo's direction all the while. Lips remain curled ever so faintly, though-- barely visible, even.
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[00:28] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "The Nethradin are done...at least."
[00:28] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "Right?..."
[00:28] Angelo Sanguinis says, "... They are."
[00:30] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "Oh, thank the Serpent..."
[00:31] Zeriel Heifang says, "A goor majority, at least."
[00:32] The bleeding's stopped, courtesy of Angelo, and she gives him an appreciative nod. There's no way to replenish what she's lost however, and she wobbles precariously.

"Is...is there anything else we need to do?" she asks thinly, passing her hand over empty air to rest on the fresh stump.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[00:34] {NARRATION} Some horrid arachnid thing, the very stuff of nightmares. Some claimed that the Nethradin weren't only human spirits, but the spirits of fallen demons as well, already corrupt and ready to prey on the lost. This creature seemed to emphasize that possibility more than any other, as powerful scything limbs tore through flesh, leaving horrid toxins in its path.

Every slam of its bladed legs cracked the earth, corrupted crystalline fissures growing from it, terrible and beautiful in the same moments.

And yet, as terrible as it was, the sacrifice had left it weak. It moved sluggishly, with two of its legs not even functioning, dragging behind limbly, broken. Ichor leaked from its pores, no normal toxin but its own lifeblood.

And when it fell, it collapsed, leaving behind, surprisingly, luckily...

No real injury.

Perhaps to the chagrin of the order magi though, it left no treasures to pillage from the body either. Though would they really want something born of that festering, toxic corruption?

Their ritual was mostly successful. The nethradin in their vicinity were dead. They could focus on the future, on a permanent solution.

For the rains had never ceased or cleared, even now stinging and rotting away. The cleansing effect on the unnatural mire would be undone in a matter of days at this rate.

Malentine's rift still remained up.
[00:38] He taps the hammer against the ground once. Twice. Three times, and it sends a soft shake across the ground. And then, energy JUMPS up, towards the clouded skies. "We still have work to do. Just let them know we... We were here. We need to set up a permanent solution." He let out, before allowing a sigh.

"Do we have anything left? We could set a safe place." He speaks, before allowing some more energy to flow through the hammer. Nevertheless... "We need to move. Ohtli, you're coming with us; I'll fix you up." He finished off, a hand risen towards the Gehennan girl.
(Angelo Sanguinis)
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[00:39] Shen nearly collapsed by the end of the battle, having to catch himself before he fell. Bleeding, sweating, and panting.. but they were finally victorious over the larger than life threat. A concerned gaze was spared to Ohtli, along with a frown.

".. I'm sorry that you needed to do that, just for us to stand a chance. But, I'm grateful. Thank you, Ohtli." he told the Drakanite.
(Shen)
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[00:42] Bending those knees a tad and placing his hands against them all the while, he'd only exhale a longer, more audible sigh outwards. No words escape just yet, and a brief shake of head is offered before those eyes turn to glance in Ohtli's direction.

A single hand waves along, somewhat shrouding the Drakanite's wounded area and limiting the blood loss-- aiding the lifestream that she commanded as well.

"Thank you, truly... it's the least we can do, but-- let's head back. Keeping the damage, and blood loss minimal until we find a more... ideal spot to temporarily patch it up."

Ah, well.

"...then apply prosthetics once back home, or so."
(Zeriel Heifang)
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[00:47] The ordeal would have been far less comfortable if she hadn't been in the company of several of Agartha's premier Holy and Order magi. The bleeding, thanks to their efforts, is stemmed. There is no risk of infection either.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she replies to Shen, steadying herself as best as she's able given the circumstances. Her eyes flick over Angelo's outstretched hand. Instead she grabs onto his shoulder for ballast. It's the simplest way to keep her pride.

"It wasn't wise to make a gamble. I had blood to give to see it done. I imagine any of you would have done the same if you'd been in the same position.

"I'll take treatment, so long as there's no more manhandling."

Not even bloodloss can curb the Serpent's bite entirely as she shoots Angelo a weary, indignant glare. More for her own satisfaction than anything else.

"...But yes. I'd like to go somewhere not here. And...sit down. For a little while."

A massive understatement on her part.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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