Quest II. The night the towers cried [open]

[Satu]

As the smoky trails of hypnotism faded, finally the voice registered in Satu’s mind. Her eyes of sea blue narrowed at the name the voice claimed... PRISKIL! The Konti’s Heart hardened immediately, and her thoughts turned cold. To think upon that goddess brought to mind the lies Priskil had worked upon the world of Mizahar. And yet Satu listened closely, intently to the words… Stop fighting. Stop panicking… Have hope… Pray… Priskil would say these words… Had said these words, to many before… To make people weak, and accepting… Priskil lead the way to wars and death through her willingness to let the wrongful lead. Stop fighting, she said to idle and ignorant followers… The goddess would make them complacent… and lost! Satu’s agitation grew. And as it blossomed, Satu recalled her own experiences. She had spoken with gods, however briefly. Once with Avalis in a dream in what seemed a lifetime past, and once with Sagallius… above her own grave. And yet, this voice did not ring true to those experiences. This voice was not as magical as theirs, nor as magnificent to her Heart. This voice was a lie! A Pretender! Someone who wanted everyone to believe in Priskil’s lies! Satu would not abide it, could not accept the affront to her beloved god, Sagallius. And Satu would find out who it was that would help spread such lies… and Priskil’s name. But who was it? The Konti scanned the unruly, chaotic crowd with her HeartSense, she would find the Heart with fallacy in it. As again, her unhinged mind disregarded the troubles that surrounded her. Instead she looked upon her companions as lowly beggars consumed by their petty squabbles. But if one of them so dared to step in her path to the Pretender, they would meet her bone, white suvai.

[Hadrian]

OOC: Bump?

[Niapret]

A voice in her head claimed to be called Priskil and wanted her to pray? Very well, it might possibly be worth a shot, despite it seeming like everyone was doomed. Which surely they all were.
"Hm, how to pray properly, then? Oh, please let us survive this, or die quickly, I'm praying."
Was that good enough? It had to be. She didn't think it'd help, but she'd given it a shot, like whoever Priskil was had asked. It occured to her that she thought she'd heard about a goddess called that, or something similar, but Niapret was rarely concerned with things she couldn't paint.
She petted the kitty, "Do you see your person around here?"

[Tarot]

One hundred people in an enclosed space, plus one Ravarisk, equals a slaughterhouse. The only reason the chaos might be subsiding ever so slightly was that quite a few already lay down, dead or unconscious, mostly trampled by their overzealous fellows. When the reddish ooze touched those who had fallen, it seemed to ignore them, as if sensing that they were of no use. Those who still held on to dear life, those were not spared by the vicious fluid which invaded their openings, burrowed in the pores of their skin, crawled behind the corneas of their eyes. They would rise in deceitful slowness, only to sprint randomly and attack anyone nearby. There was nothing fancy about their notions, but they still packed monstrous strength in their punches. One man got his head smashed against the light barrier, again and again, until the brains spilled out. The feverish attacker did not stop hitting the poor victim until much longer. The destructive instincts brought by Ravarisk's taint could perhaps be channeled towards a specific target - maybe even themselves - but not denied outright. This was by now apparent to Cassandra. It would be clear to Bob Barton, as well, as soon as he brought the ooze to his lips. And to Talen Stirling, quickly overcome by the morbid fluid. The silent voice rang in their heads, coursing with untold power through their bodies. They were using up a day's worth of energy in a handful of chimes. Why? Why the rage? 'To know is to rage.' It rang true in their minds. The knowledge filling their minds, alien lore from times long lost, was maddening. Raging was its only escape, its only cure. Their minds would burst like balloons if they didn't. A bucket could not hope to contain the sea, except if it could feel rage. Because rage could make a bucket into an ocean. Miro finished crafting a thin bridge of ice Res just in time for him and some other people to cross it. No-one asked questions as to how the bridge had come into existence when there were more important things at stake. And so, a party of about a dozen desperados crowded together and huddled towards the center area, on a collision course with the Black Sun bravos. Threatening the staff did not seem to do much good for Kamalia Timandre. A bolt of unpleasant energy shot up her arm, reaching up to her shoulder. Pathfinder wiggled in her hand, as if pulling at an invisible leash. This was not the way to approach the problem. The staff did not seem to possess proper intelligence for speech or rational understanding. She had to go deeper, reach futher... where words could not dare to sink. Sira's message as 'Priskil' sounded as genuine as a three-Miza coin (and Satu spotted her heart's hesitation and forgeries a mile away), but in times of need people will believe anything that suits them. Someone actually calmed enough and started praying: you could see them kneeling down and slurring through half-forgotten prayers and children's nursery rhymes. Unfortunately the speech had no effect on those who were actually causing the commotion, but only those who were running from them. Bob's ex-beggar jumped down on a praying man and all but ripped him open with his bare hands. His hands had something animalistic, ape-like as they glistened with blood. Then he quickly resumed his advance towards Sira. Such prayers were not heartfelt. Without one's heart behind it, a prayer was only wind and steam. Ravarisk's silent voice echoed for the briefest moment in Sira's mind. 'I was here first. I will be here last. I will make your child into something far greater.' With Darik having retreated further away, the heavyset woman from Rhysol's army faced off against Cassandra Coven, with Talen coming up from the side. She licked her lips with the anticipation of shattered bones. "Die, whore." She swung her club at Cassandra, but her blow was easily dodged. She grunted and wheeled on the balls of her feet, catching Talen's arrival with her peripheral vision. She attempted another strike, but she was all strength and little speed - a Ravarisk-augmented human would have no trouble dodging her. "Stay still, you shyke!" she hissed with mounting frustration. A little distance away, her leader gave an order to his mage-like companion. "They're tight packed. Shoot them now." The skinny scarecrow raised an eyebrow. "What about Tatishka?" The leader gave a thin smile. "No big loss." The mage extended his hands and began forming Res with practiced ease. The fireball began steaming and swirling as he fed it energies from within himself and the deadly addition of Rhysol's dark taint. The fire looked dirty and corrupted, giving off sickly whispers rather than a hearty roar. The mage aimed at the threesome of Tatishka, Cassandra and Talen and let go of the fiery projectile. With Nilkayn's wound stabilized, Riki and Aidara could finally focus on the chaos around them. Such was the work of the healer, always fighting an uphill battle in which you could never strike first. Riki's murmured prayer was answered with a newfound jolt of spiritual force, rejuvenating both healers from all the effort of healing the unholy wound. They knew they were going to need the power. Wounded people were everywhere, most of them unfortunately beyond their ability to restore, but the compulsion to help was not any weaker for it. Of course no-one followed Bob's advice to roll in the ooze. It didn't help that the speech had been delivered in a fast growl by someone with bloodshot eyes and twitching limbs. Even the dumbest lamb would be hesitant to walk into the lion's open maws only because he swore to the gods it was the safest place to be. Zlakalia was doing beautifully, or abysmally, depending on the point of view. The voice in her head was elated at all the magic she was casting. She intercepted the beggar en route to Sira, pushed an image into his mind. She found it was actually easier to use Hypnotism on these people - their minds worked so fast, and with so little restraint, that they were hypersensitive to mental images in more ways than one. Extremely receptive to manipulation. The nameless beggar stopped in his tracks, looking around for the dagger he knew must be there, when the Pycon slashed him in the back of the ankle, tearing a precious ligament. Suddenly losing his balance, the man crumbled down. This was not to say he was stopped - no, he continued crawling towards the Kelvic Wind Eagle with hardly any pause. By this time, Zlakalia was sending a wave of depression Sira's way, but it was a sloppy, drunken thing by now - little more than a pinprick by the time it got to Sira. The Pycon's head was spinning, and her movements seemed strangely slow, so slow... Probably because Zlakalia was melting in a puddle. Her Hypnotism had heated up her mind to such a degree that her body was following suit. As for the beggar, he found himself pinned down by Istril's weight as she began to pummel him with her Isurian arm. Each blow broke something and left blood in its wake. Ribs crunched, teeth were ejected. Still, the beggar's hands somehow found their way around the Isur's threat and began to apply pressure as the two of them started rolling on the floor. This man did not seem to remember he was supposed to die. Hadrian could feel his grip on the shield weaken, second after second. His magic was insulating this place from the outside, but strong pressure was trying to push the air out of the cracks in the barrier. How long could he keep this up? The marks of Aquiras on the floor seemed to be the key, but something was missing. They were awaiting a trigger that no-one here seemed to be able to provide. They glowed on and off, as if sending signals to those who could understand. Priskil. They were waiting for Priskil. And as the glow quickened, it felt as if Priskil were getting closer, more probable. It occurred to Hadrian that Priskil might be sending someone to fix this. If so, were they more likely to succeed in the midst of raging chaos or with a semblance of order restored to these killing grounds? Bob struck at the ice bridge just as Kinneas was crossing it. There, one or two more blows should do it. Such was the way of the world: what took a genius a lifetime to build, a fool could bring down in an instant. And Niapret still hovered in relative safety with a kitty, Akvatari style. If she lived to tell the tale, who knew what paintings, what colors would come out of this.

[Eridanus]

Here comes a new PC!Permission to join granted by Tarot

It was night, and Eridanus was standing outside the tavern he had been staying in. It was a place of no note, merely one of the many cheap places that charged little coin for weary travelers like him. Tonight though, he stood watching the sky, wondering, thinking. He had been meditating earlier when he thought he heard Leth call to him. Scrambling out, he rushed out to look at the night sky, finding only cool air and darkness. Who was he to kid? Leth had not called him for two centuries already. Not a word, not even a single whisper. As if the moon god did not know if his own child had been taken away from him. Over the years, he kept his faith to Leth constantly, always trying to find a way to contact him, always trying to find a way to return. And that was where his devotion to Priskil helped him. When he was in his worst, downtrodden and depressed, when he felt the world was against him, he discovered Her. The goddess of hope and light. The very idea of her presence gave him the hope to live again, the hope to keep trying and keep going despite failures. She was his constant anchor to sanity and what he needed to find out about the fate of ethaefals. To discover the truth. He was lost in thought, and at that exact magical moment there was a flash of light and he simply disappeared. Inexplicably. There was no one watching him. No one felt his disappearance to the strange discs up high above the planet. If the ethaefal thought that was the most surprising thing he had ever experienced in his whole life, he would be quite sorely mistaken. One chain of events after the other. The Black Sun. The tentacles and the ooze. Mass panic. Utter chaos and anarchy, each fighting for their own lives. Superhuman people who somehow came into contact with the ooze beginning to destroy the weaker beings nearby. A bridge of ice. These confusing events took place without pause; if this whole thing was a play the scriptwriter most likely suffered from some sort of hyperactivity disorder, and perhaps bipolar mania as well. Eridanus stayed far away from the group of people, desperately trying to take in the environment to find out what he should do next. It never stayed the same. Cracks at the sides, hissing of air, more carnage and bloodbath. He sought organization in his analysis but the variables kept changing. It was impossible. The ethaefal did manage to see some sort of pattern in the anarchy. Namely the ooze and how it seem to drive people inhumanely crazy. It was logical that one should stay far away, yet he could see far ahead a midget roll himself in the ooze, giving himself away to the madness. The ooze began to criss-cross the area, enveloping the trapped sheep in an even smaller space. A hundred people. Mix in utter madness. You can only get overwhelming madness. Suddenly a bridge of ice was created towards the center of the room, logically the safest place if the pattern of ooze continued. People rushed towards it in droves, not caring who they shoved, who they pushed down. Who they sacrificed in their desperate attempt to save themselves. Human selfishness at its worse. He tried to get on the bridge of course, but the now-crazy midget began hammering on the bridge. He was not likely to make it. Was it going to all end here? Will he give in to the madness that was slowly taking over the people gathered here one by one? There was a voice in the air, and a voice in his head called for prayer. Prayer to the Goddess of Hope. Priskil! Had she finally responded to his prayers and his pleas over the years? His anchor of sanity, the source of optimism that gave him the strength to live on and not see his eternal youth as a curse to be condemned in this dreary world. The voice faded, and suddenly the feeling was gone. Yet, he continued to hold on to this, for She had responded. Priskil would save them all! Eridanus surveyed the surroundings quickly, spotting a white-haired woman out of the variety of people. It was clear that she was not human. A beautiful Konti, child of Avalis and seer of truths and the future. This much he knew about the strange female race that lived in Mura. She was apparently a wizard of some sort, at least from the staff that she was holding. It did not look like any ordinary wooden staff. He jogged towards her, avoiding the other groups of people moving about, doing whatever business they wished to pursue. Everyone had their own agenda, and he had his. Fortunately, none of the possessed found any interest in him, and he reached the white-haired woman without much difficulty. It was loud, from screaming, from the whizzing of spells through the air, from general hysteria, and the ethaefal had to shout over the noise to make himself heard, "Konti! What is happening?" He acted as if she knew the answers, as if a random konti in this mess of insanity could tell him the answers. As if her innate gift could tell her what to do next, to reassure him that she had everything under control. Deep down, he knew. There was no reason why he should think so, for she was as mortal as any of them. But what else could he do? When Leth had apparently forsaken him. He began to doubt that the voice earlier was Priskil. He had training under the Headmaster of the Acumen Asylum in Alvadas on Hypnotism. He began to see characteristics of it being wrought. In his desperation he had chosen to believe that She was here, but it had merely been a scam. A false hope. In this situation of hopelessness there was no other being who could save them all. Everything was dying, everything was going to ruin. Even as he waited for the konti's response he renewed his prayers to Her, believing that somehow he could make a difference. Believing that somehow his prayers could break through this insane hysteria and reach her divine ears. Priskil! Where are you?!

[Ariel]

Ariel simply sat on her perch in silence, swinging her legs as chaos erupted around her. Listening to the various noises it produced- screaming, soft sighs as a last breath escaped one's lips, groans of pain, pleading voices, often times begging for mercy. There has to be a way to stop all of this, Ariel thought, as she looked around her. A way to make it all go away, if it can be made to do so, before everyone here dies, and everything. The pycon paused in her thought as she forced herself to look at the red goo again, thinking that if only she came to understand what it was, and what properties it contained, then she could help get everyone out of this mess. Her unblinking gaze settled on a pool. Watched it bubble, a thin tendril of the liquid trickling away from it. Slithering away. Twisting left, and then right, back and forth, over and over again. The pycon watched it wind, following it with her finger from time to time. You know, it kind of looks like a snake, Ariel thought. A poisonous one. With its red scales, and tiny forked tongue. A thin line etched itself across the middle of Ariel's forehead as she studied the liquid. How it seemed to glow closest to where the sigils did, on the ground, and sink into shadow everywhere else. It is a thing of darkness, for if not for those strange symbols, it'd be doused in it completely. Licking her lips, Ariel allowed her hands to settle into her lap, and her legs to stop swinging. So... if it is like a snake, it is a treacherous thing. Appearing as something not too intimidating or frightening perhaps, to get close, and yet, being entirely of that nature... it is deceitful, and only capable of being destroyed if you know what has more strength than it. So... what kills a snake? Ariel wondered. In the wild, it can be anything from a mongoose, to a great bird. A bird of prey, like the falcons and eagles so oft found in Wind Reach living among the inarta. But, if it be more of a proverbial snake, one that whispers words into the ears of those close enough to listen. One that whispers lies... one that tries to sway others to their cause; a temptress, then perhaps, simply shedding light on the matter would be of use... or, cutting out the snake's tongue, Ariel thought. Smiling, Ariel looked up at Sira. She was an eagle, perhaps then, she held the key. But she seemed different too, effected by the strange goo in a way she simply did not understand. Sighing, Ariel turned to the glowing sigils. A source of light, of mystery, and confusion. The way they glowed reminded her of the sun, making her think of Syna. The mysterious glow though, of Priskil, the inability to truly understand, and a desire to do so, Eyris. Maybe one of them too, held the key to unraveling this mystery, or perhaps, all of them did. Perhaps the sigils had more to do with getting out of this mess than unraveling the mysteries of the goo. Sighing, Ariel decided to take a chance. "Riki, when you are on the plains, and encounter a snake, what is it you do to be rid of it?" Ariel asked, as she turned to him, and then, looked over at Addy. "And you, my lovely red-haired friend, what is it you do when you find something so alluring, you simply can't resist, but know it is what you must do?" Ariel shook her head lightly. "Forgive me, but the answer seems as though it will help us unravel the mystery- why we find ourselves here, and see what we see." OOCUm... yes, pycon mumbo-jumbo. Sorry... figured she'd still be thinking for herself though, being on Riki's shoulder.

[Satu]

The HeartSense searched, radiating outward, as if Avalis’ Gift would also know who it was that had spoken so falsely of Priskill into the minds of those present. During the long moments of settling inward into her Gift, to wait and observe, Satu remained palely composed, an exotic statue among the unsteady chaos. Even as her Heart yearned to find the one, her eyes landed upon each person… for in this sphere, there were very few who were not carrying strong emotions within. So many Hearts were scared and fearful, crazed or weak… but a few were stout, emboldened by the unknown. And always there were the compassionate… Again she looked at the healers… and frowned. And there! Near them, Satu saw a different Heart… One with hesitation. The Konti took a step forward to see more clearly… and she knew… it was the Deceiver (Sira)… the one that had spoken in her mind… Satu wasted no time, she moved among crowd trying to hold the woman in her gaze, difficult as that was. Lithesome, her stride was long and as she weaved between groups of people, graceful in her steps. Always she looked ahead, not wishing to make eye contact with anyone, lest they distract her. The red ooze became issue, and often she was forced to change course to avoid it, or those coated within its blanket. For the first, the Konti saw the crowd for what it was, a confusion of humans and nonhumans alike, who did not understand what had happened to them… and above them, the tentacled monster… and below, the red creep. The noise was chaotic, the energy restless… something had to be done! It was apparent no one had yet stood up to the task. Satu shook her head, too often in her travels this had been true… someone must lead. Lightly, on the balls of her feet, Satu wound through the mass of people. Delicately she tried not to even touch another, as if she were but a ghostly apparition that passed silently by. Always her scaled fingers stayed near the suvai… ready. For here where people spoke the name Priskill, no one could be trusted…. For Satu knew better than most, what groups of emotional people were capable of doing, if given half a chance. Nearer the suvai fighter moved to the woman with the false Priskill Heart. One or two more steps and Satu would be close enough to speak, or to hear. Already a kind smile found its way to her features, and her eyes softened into blue waters of the Isle.

[Sira]

A lot was happening all around her, but in truth none of it really mattered to Sira. Her attempt to get everybody to stop going crazy and pray for help didn't work. There were several people coming to kill Sira, but all of them seemed distracted. The depression was quickly pushed aside, Sira was beyond depression. Things were far worse than depression, and her other emotions were just too strong for such a weak attempt at magic. The pycon itself, which was now a melting puddle of clay, Sira did not even notice. The beggar seemed to be busy getting beaten to death by an isurian arm, and everyone else was busy with their own problems. None of it mattered. All Sira knew was that the creature had responded. And it wanted her child. If Satu was still paying attention to Sira's heart she would feel a full range of emotions pass through the kelvic. Fear, despair, hopelessness, anger, rage, and then finally acceptance. No, Sira was not accepting defeat. She would never give up her child. It was that, now, she simply knew the stakes and knew what she would have to do. Sira would fight, she would do whatever she could to protect her baby, but if it should come to it she would take her life before she would surrender her child. Sira gripped her sword all the more tightly. You will never have my child,, Sira responded to the Ravarisk, Even if it means everyone here has to die, you will never have... Sira's words trailed off as she realized what she just said. Everyone has to die.. everyone. Even Addy. Could she sacrifice the love of her life for her unborn child? The strings of her kelvic bond reacted violently to the thought, vibrating through Sira's soul to her very core. Could she sacrifice Aidara? Sira didn't know. Suddenly her eyes came to focus on the new woman before her, a beautiful scaled creature, a race Sira knew but could not place the name of. She seemed so out of place, a calm and kind face amidst a sea of chaos, and that alone was enough to put Sira on guard. The creature wanted her child, the ooze was making people go mad, and here was this calm individual come before Sira of all people. Addy. No more healing. To my side. It was the closest thing Sira had ever given Addy to an order, though neither every truly ordered the other around, and one of the rare times Sira ever spoke to Addy in any such way. When the healer finally found her way to the kelvic's side, Sira reach with her spare hand for the healer's, the other still holding the sword defensively in front of her. Her eyes locked onto the Konti once more. "If you are after our child, you can die trying."

[Niapret]

There was not much Niapret could do, really. She looked on the chaos below her, thinking the others should accept the fact that they were all going to die. What was the point in resisting what can't be delayed or put off? She let out a sigh. Fine, she'll try to help them.

Very few seemed to be calm and rational, and at her vantage point in the air she could see the the most odd one out, standing in front of a redheaded woman with a sword in hand. Let's start there, she thought, holding the kitty firmly yet securely and flying towards the ones she'd picked out.

"Excuse me, do you know what's going on?" She asked in common, the only language she knew.

[Ariel]

At the sound of yet another voice, Ariel looked up into the deep blue eyes of an Akvatari. She took note of the grey wings, the strange lower portion of its body. The bundle it held in her arms, her mewling kitten. Smiling Ariel reached for her pet. There you are! the pycon thought, as she extended her hands, just as the kitten stretched its paws, extracting its claws towards her. "Does anyone?" Ariel replied, her voice a bit cold. "I've heard of your kind before Akvatari, and must say you look even worse in person than in the pictures drawn in books." Ariel chuckled. "Not only that, but your nature seems, unsatisfactory, at least compared to how you were once described." There was a slight pause. "Now that we all know where Rafael got to, why don't you give him back? Poor thing has all of my things in his saddle, and is probably more than worried sick with you flying about like a lunatic, and asking petching stupid questions!" Ariel shook her tiny clay fists at the creature, her unblinking eyes boring into Niapret's own. "If you're not careful, he'll more than likely start clawing the petch out of you trying to get back to his companion. I'd suggest you put him down, and scurry away, before something tries to eat you." Ariel grumbled under her breath. Petching giants. Idiots, nearly all of them. Never bother to see. To consider. To explore and learn. Never bother to bloody think for themselves. Such pathetic creatures they can be... "Or settle for ripping off your wings, which as I'm sure you could only imagine, is rather painful," Ariel finally added as she intensified her glare. She wouldn't have normally been so rude, but she was frustrated. Sick of giants taking advantage of her size, and stealing her things. Sick of there never seeming to be an end to it all.