Completed [Seasonal Quest] Upon a Star (Open)

[Alric Wilmot]

Alric ran past the carnage and ruins without paying heed to the smells of burnt hair and flesh, neither did he pause to help those who'd fallen in the panic. Alric was by no stretch, evil, but it would be hard to call him good either. He was interested in only himself, and his own salvation right now. He had started this foray into madness on a selfless motive, that much was true. However, he had abandoned that motive rather quickly. He had yet to encounter anyone who could tell him what was going on, and in no time at all, his curiosity got the better of him. He was interested in two things now. The first and most important was staying alive. He wasn't about to have his life cut short just yet. Next, and of course the most predictable, was learning about this catastrophe. When it had first started, Alric was far to emotionally distraught to properly think, and had gone off to make sure Miro was okay. A few chimes into his mad dashing and he realized how foolish that was. Miro was a combatant, a fighter! Alric wasn't going to help him any more than a mouse could help a lion. In fact, it was probably a good thing he wasn't wherever Miro was, so Miro could focus on himself. However, after abandoning his reckless mission, he came to the realization that all around him was a mystery of the most obvious sort. And he, the man who declared to all his desire for knowledge was not going to seek out the answers to it? Preposterous. He was going to get to the bottom of this, starting with its beginning. He had been following the shifting billow of smoke ever since he had come to his senses, and for the most part, it allowed Alric to come steadily closer to it. As he approached his destination, he had to fight back a great deal of tears, and even then, many came through. It appeared that this horrendous assault began at Ionu's Temple, a sacred place that Alric foolishly thought incapable of destruction. however, that was hardly the worst of it. Although he had smelled the vomit inducing odor of death as he ran through the streets, it became nearly palpable as he approached the decimated ruins of his god's temple. It was quite obvious that many of Ionu's followers did not escape the bloodbath. The temple was ravaged. Fire had blackened the walls within, smoke billowing from it still. Alric's suspicions proved true as he walked through what were once familiar halls, as he laid his eyes upon piles of bodies charred from the explosion. The vast majority of them were not whole bodies, but rather bits and pieces. Alric, never being so close to death before so as to see it, smell it, and (to his dismay) touch it, attempted to vomit. He was greeted with failure as he hadn’t had breakfast that morning and so instead had a painful bout of dry heaves. It was as though he were participating in a walking nightmare. People lay strewn about, unmoving. The worst of it was the stench that filled the air, the putrid smell of burning flesh. The smoke that hovered in the room made his eyes water, though he fought past it well enough. He had severely started to consider leaving and just finding a good place to hide. But he wasn’t going to find out what had caused this destruction by cowardice. True, cowardice had its merits, but in this instance, bravery proved more valuable. As he tipped toed along the wreckage of the former glory that was the Temple, he heard the whizzing of mechanical men. Golems, would be his guess. As he approached the end of the ruined corridor, he confirmed his suspicions as he peeked around the corner. Alric almost thought they might be some sort of relief. That is, until he observed them finishing off the very few remaining survivors. However, just as Alric was reevaluating cowardice’s virtues, Shale, master of the arena, stepped forth to do battle against the mechanized menaces. And he was doing spectacular. Alric could hardly believe his battle prowess. He had never actually visited the Arena, believing it barbaric. However he now decided that even barbarism had its place. Shale was joined by a white haired human that Alric had never seen before. Regardless of familiarity, it seemed this person too was a seasoned fighter. Alric looked on, unmotivated to relinquish his hiding spot. The hope of waiting out the battle, however, was dashed rather quickly. Shale opened up portal into the void. Alric was quickly yanked off his feet at its creation, and only dumb luck would have him grab onto the wall fast enough. The pull was dreadful in its force, and pulled in several of the corpses and pieces of corpses. Alric’ strength failed not two seconds in, but he managed to use the bodies strewn across the floor as foot holds and momentum gainers. Using them to scramble across the floor, he was able to escape death. And while that was all well and good, he was extremely saddened to note that both his mask and hat had been sucked into the void, never to be seen again. Those had been gifts from a very close friend; he would have to hold a funeral for their deaths. As the void closed, he stood on wobbly knees, visibly shaken and exhausted from the strenuous activity. Alric was no fighter, and it showed in his heavy panting and clutched stomach. His outfit was bloody from the bodies he had used to escape the void, and it was very unlikely he’d ever be able to get the stains out. Alric nearly cried. All of his favored possessions were being murdered in this Ionu-forsaken place! But no, he withheld the tears. He had learned a long time ago that others did not consider their clothing to be living. They were wrong of course, but he would keep his thoughts to himself this time. There were more important things to worry about. As Alric wiped away the water from his eyes that would become tears, he saw the white haired man grab a small handheld mirror. His observations were cut short by a quaking. Alric’s eyes left the man and focused on a new terror far worse than a dozen golems. A giant golem. Alric did not know the size of the beast, but he’d wager it was over two stories, probably over three. Though Alric was not evil, he was most certainly selfish. And in this instance he sincerely hoped that the monstrosity attack one of the other two men. He had come here wanting knowledge, he did not come to wager his life against impossible odds. Unfortunately, it seemed as though impossible odds were the only thing he was going to get. He was far more confused now than he had been at the start. Alric, deciding the risk too great, turned to leave. However, something stopped him. He didn’t know what exactly. But even his own inherent disinterest of others was not so extreme as to leave two men in harm’s way when he could be of some help. He wasn’t completely selfish after all. Just mostly. The Colossus was too close to Shale for Alric to do much, but the other man, the one with white hair might be just close enough. The Golem increased its speed, and both men remained stationary. Alric, realizing it was now or never, dashed as quickly as he could to the white-haired man’s side, intending to carry him away. He whispered a strained prayer. "My Lord, Ionu, if you truly care about your followers and your city, I pray you help us now. I pray that this entire nightmare is just one awful trick, and that you would be the one to reveal it for the falsity it is."

[Ulric]

Vainly, he clove through the waking void of that puny instant, caught up by chains of turgidity, lungs stagnating. What is this, he grunted, for the embers were fading before his eyes, the greasy cogs sloughing away. And yet, he was there, caught up by a harbinger. He stared at his body through a tawdry fragment of mirror, but he did not see, couldn’t feel the myriad throes of his waking fear, the oily sweat of his tangled perplexity. The spear formed, just behind his back, and though he wanted to cry out, to move away, what could he do?. You forget your own clarion, squirmed the whisper, vaguely mocking.

Then, he was yanked down by the vast, dirty specter of a boar, hide bristly and whorled by chaos, a cruel, curving tusk forcing through his armor, the flesh of his shoulder, crushing him upon the crude rocks. There was a welter of tiny, red flecks around his face, tearing asunder as though broken by the raving anarchy of a painter’s brush. He bit down, hard. “Guurgh,” he grunted, blotchy globs of jade and indigo hovering before his eyes, erupting as a mockery of talons, tearing at his eyes. There was a far clangor. The curl of fingers was not his, for it as though he was caught up by a strange, pewter-gray current, drifting above the torqued, bronze gears, the broken, shingled roofs, the towering spires.

And then he felt it.

Agony, boiling up from the spear, lancing and searing through his body, jolts of poison pulsing down his spine, so that he nearly thought his eyes would rupture. He sought to tug away, but he was stuck through, leaving a cry to erupt from his cracked lips, echoing until his throat was raw, and a scour of flimsy, violet petals danced before his eyes, mocking the conceit.

Desank, roaring, had leapt up again, bearing an iron spar. He flung his head back, scant wings furling from leathery hide. He was a blur, crushing the legs of a golem from under it, cleaving off a squat head. He’d fought too far away, and now, fraught by a feral desperation, he sought to get back to his master. He was a whirl, a gasp of azure, tearing away legs, tearing through iron, making the golems into heaps of scrap. He spun around, thrusting the spar through a tapering trunk, then out the other side, skewing the foul construct so its blade made a jagged rent in the chest of another, then caught. Held fast, the golems just clanked and creaked, hurling vainly at each other.

“Jsa aoebf ud bewuewbr adnfub,” growled the Gasvik, and then, taking up the plated fragments of a leg, he began swinging it over his head by the wires, beating at the golems, denting a shoulder plate so badly that it ceased to lever, taking out the gear of a knee, sweeping off a head, so that he could get back.

Ulric nearly vomited, just hung there, draped wanly against the rocks. He fought against the waves of nausea, lankly trying to force himself away from the cruel spear, but it wasn’t any use. He was stuck fast. There was just a grating of bones, a warm, cloying suck of rent, weeping flesh. The shaft was burning him, hurling waves of agony through his bones, to the very roots of his molars. He jerked around, cuffing madly at the dread spar, caged.

And yet, his face was a blank rictus of horror.

Then, a firm grip. …yank this thing free… The agony got worse, wracking his body, spine taut, bending back as though it was in danger of breaking, but the spear barely even budged. He clenched his jaw, trying to fight back a sob, as his pelvis jerked sordidly against the rocks, toes splaying, cramping with the force of his agony. He might’ve wet himself, if not for the vagary of his travesty.

Vaguely, he felt the fingers grasp at his pauldron. “Do it,” he growled, and then he felt himself jerked back, the burning of the shaft against his wound, the scrape of his scapula. He thrashed, spat flecks of red. He saw a broken, gray-green shrapnel, jaggedly swimming as a nest of serpents crept around his neck, the barbs of their fangs lancing through him, tearing out his tongue.

And then he came away.

“Shyke,” he gasped, swaying badly as his eyes began to clear. He gazed around, leaning heavily upon his axe, the haft yet clenched by white knuckles, as yet more fingers probed at his shoulder, began to poke linen into the ugly rent. “Shyke.” Gray-faced, he wanly regarded his savior, even if he was just a blur.

Croaking, “Come,” he began to stagger, trying to get back in the fight. “Can you hear that?” Eyes fever-bright, he spat a gob of red, hearing the faint cries, the fiery, rumbling ruin. “Children are dying.”

[Fallacy]

Acumen Asylum The entire room stopped to hear what Eridanus had to say. All the attention was on him. After the few spoken words all that answered him was silence, for there was nothing to really say, and if it were they were shocked that such a question would come out, or, perhaps even more likely, unprepared the answer the question as to what was happening. They did not know for sure, hence the debate and arguing, the petty squabble. The first to break the silence with his smooth words and know-it-all attitude was none other than Karash of the Divine Legacy, ”As I was telling the others,” Karash crossed all his arms looking at the group that had rallied behind the headmaster, ”though I cannot be certain that this is the case, I do believe the Kasai-Dala Mirror was employed in some way. That light.” he passed to once again look over the group, perhaps he was seeing something within them that only he could perceive, ”Was no ordinary illusion. It was an illusion, yes, but far too powerful to have been manufactured by any ordinary illusionist. It had a presence behind it, and that presence can be sensed by anyone with an intuition or initiation to magic. It was not normal by any means, and I have felt it before.” he paused before going on with his story. ”It was a little over thirty years ago that a young, blessed, and perhaps tragically misguided woman by the name of Drysalla used the mirror and its power to obtain a beauty that cannot be matched by the gods. Her beauty was of such that no matter the man who gazed upon her would see that she is truly beautiful. The person who spies her, or so it was said, is said to have seen not Drysalla, but the image of true beauty as they know it.” he smiled, ”Foolish, right?” he laughed, ”Though she used the mirrors abilities to gain that perfection, if it can be called such, fully aware of the price.” it was obvious that Karash felt no sympathy for her, ”The mirror has a legacy of causing more harm than good, and in the end that was the case with Drysallas story as well. She was murdered, some say raped then murdered, but the fact remains that it did not end well.” ”What does this have to do with what is happening now, you ask?” karash continued to go on unknowing or simply uncaring if his word was wanted anymore, ”The mirror was used again.” he stopped, ”Those golems are proof enough. How odd is it for them to appear right after the flash of light? Right after the Mirrors powers has been activated?” He stopped again. ”Again jumping to conclusions.” the head master chimed in taking advantage of the moment of hesitation from Karash, ”All you point to are contraptions of metal and a light.” There was an interruption as a knock could be heard at the door. Standing in the entryway was none other than Okana. After she got everyone’s attention, ”It is true.” she said before anyone could question or respond, ”The mirror, the mirror has been used again. Dry…” she stammered as she walked in the door, the city had obviously taken her to a more safe place, ”Drysalla has risen again.” her voice was shaky, ”She… the light, the mirror, and the hope are all connected.” her voice shook with effort before she collapsed into a nearby seat, ”No one in Alvadas is safe.” her voice barely a whisper, a dark prophecy she wove. ”Ive seen her with my own eyes.” she watched everyone, ”she is alive once more and it was the Mirror that brought her back. She has no Chavi.” she informed everyone before falling silent her breathes large and labored. ”Lady Okana,” the Headmaster started, ”Please calm down.” he went over to her and knelt down so he was at her level, ”You said Drysalla is alive? That is impossible, she died…” He was cut off by a low cry, ”She is alive. This city may warp the minds of the inhabitants but what I saw was no falsehood, no trick, she was sitting right across from me.” she exclaimed desperate to believed. She needed to warn everyone, she needed to do as Drysalla said and warn everyone of the impending danger. That was her goal, her task, ”no one is safe!” she said her ominous message once again. The Temple of Ionu As Antar would take the mirror a weird sensation would come over him. It would be something between the feeling of nausea and dizziness, the world would seem to grow transparent, but still be there. Though now overlaid upon reality would be a faint spring and six stalking humanoid beings carved of crystal. Antar would see someone approach the springs and draw out from the it the mirror which he now had in his possession. The details were hazy and the person looked but a shadow, and he could hear the wish being made the poem being sung: “"Mirror, Mirror, reflecting so bright The wishes of everyone tonight… Mirror, Mirror, with magic so nice I accept your price. Mirror, mirror, May you might Grant me my wish right? Mirror, mirror, shining in the night Answer me my wish, give the legends life…” Right then he would see the flash of light filling the area, blinding even as it played out in front of him, the other reality. Could it have happened before? Was this a glimpse in the past? Or maybe it was the future? Though one thing he could not shake the image of was those six crystal beings standing about the waters edge. What were they? As the light vanished from view growing dimmer and dimmer the reality of the situation was kicking back in for the rogue, where he was, but still that picture and the words rang in his mind. That was until he felt himself hit the ground, being pushed out of the way, by an unknown man who tripped himself up on a loose stone that was in his way. Though it was that push, that intention of Alric, that saved Antars life. Caught up in the trance and in the vision he was shown the rogue was wholefully unaware of what was happening around him. Just as they two men landed the thud and the quake of a giant hand could be felt. The rushing of the winds retreating out of the vicinity could be felt, and the stones on the ground jumped, as if in an attempt to get out of the way. If not for Alric, Antar would have been crushed. A close call indeed. It was then another crack of the masters whip could be heard as it unleashed its fire and wrath upon the golem. Making a great bang and a lot of noise, when the smoke cleared it was quite evident that it had don’t little to no damage. ”Oh, ho.” he said, ”It seems like you were built better than the other trash.” he smiled, ”but sadly, the show must go on, and you will be defeated beast.” he yelled, another couple of runes disappearing from the whip as he swung it again, aiming it at the golem. Another explosion, still no damage done. Frowning, the ringmaster stopped to rethink his plan. Though the man would not have much time as the golem reared its enormous head, fire-eyes, staring at Shale it opened its mouth the mechanical workings clicking within. There was a short pause, the seeing of red flames licking at the edges of the machine and finally spouting out of the mouth shooting fire at Shale. Oh gods, what a terror, what a creation this was.

[Kamalia Timandre]

oocPosted with Fallacy's permission! Joining Ulric, Bob, Jaeden.

olemn and serene it began, a spellsong sung in contralto as elusive as it was unknowable. Magic and fire wrought voice and lyrics, and her mind lingered upon a doorsill between bliss and madness, darkness and firelight, flame and ice. The Silver Sorceress stood, a dozen paces away from the Slanderer, head high like a storied mistress of magic, queenly in her grace and authority.

One hand raised the Pathfinder, Sahgal Hrinn’s staff, aloft in the air, while the other danced in complex gestures, summoning the eldritch powers she claimed her own. And magic—oh, the sweet wine of power—coursed through her veins in rivulets, djed streams flowing through her slender limbs. Unfelt wind rippled through the thick, silvery-white hair dancing behind in wavy locks to her waist. Her silk raiment and gossamer shawl also fluttered behind her to the rhythm of her spell.

And so she sang, gathering in tempo and power, as magic called to her, and she called upon magic. The voice within whispered dark, seductive promises that pulled her closer to orgasmic heights. She wove res from her hands, like wisps of silver smoke, and the filaments gathered in a thick cloud hovering above a a number of golemsI defer to Fallacy's decision on the numbers, since Kam possibly can't destroy them all.. Finally, the spellsong rose in a fiery soprano, and in a high, keening note, Kamalia Timandre sang in Nader-canoch, “Vaknuis randjaq, ruwe! Ruwe!”

Kamalia flung her arms skyward, holding the staff high, before she stabbed it down to the ground. Colonnades of ethereal res leaped down to each golem within the scope of the spell cloud, and in a single breath, each pillar blazed into bright, burning prisons of white-hot fire. The sorceress visibly struggled, as the whites of her eyes turned red, and her fair visage went ghastly pale. Her tongue also tasted metallic. The blazing columns bathed the steel golems in swirling flames, and while it may or may not melt metal down, it would intensify the heat up to astonishing levels, and likely give her allies time to compose themselves. This would suffice for her next spell. She stood motionless until the flames winked out.

“Watch over me,” she said serenely to the others. Her expression remained impassive and unruffled, yet her eyes glittered in spell-drunkenness. “Let nothing touch me or even come near.”

Should she remain uninterrupted, Kamalia would weave fresh cords of res with her fingers, singing a spell anew. This time, her song would be in wintry alto, chilling in its somberness. The Konti reimancer would drape the heated animated steel constructs in her magic, and encase them from neck down in thick, immobilizing crusts of ice. The sudden drop of temperatures, from extreme heat to cold, was hopefully enough to make the metal brittle and crack under stress and expansion.

And within her, the shadows would stir.

[Naama]

oocJoining with Fall's permission. She heard the screams and the chaos. The far off explosions echoed in the dank alleys and everchanging streets of the city. She didn't need to step outside to know that a sweep of death not of Dira's doing was unleashed unto the denizens of Alvadas. Even here it seemed Rhysol's realm could not fully be kept at bay. When the Myrian stepped outside she observed the stream of golems pursuing what they could, their gestures rigid and clockwork, alien creations the likes of which Naama had never seen. Squirt stood behind her, holding a worn dagger in his hand, chewing his lip. "We're going to fight those?" He asked dubiously. "Just try not to get killed." She danced between the metal abominations, avoiding sword and rock and bows, grazed by some, nearly skewered by others. When one managed to get too close, she whipped out both her swords and hooked the neck of the thing inbetween, using her weight to send it tipping over and crashing in a metallic heap on the cobblestone street. When she turned to address more, Naama noticed the alleys shifted, the buildings that once loomed above her seconds earlier vanished, and she could see the dazzling image of a woman with hair and skin the shades of the ivory moon. Magic spilled forth from her fingertips, devouring the golems in a siege of flames. When she called for aid, a hooked sword came sweeping behind her to knock a golem from its advance. "A bold konti sorceress has come to our rescue. And quite the looker too." Naama offered the wizard an insidious grin. "Allow me to be your meatshield, sweet lady. Scorch them to the void."

[Dhalvasha]

Ah, how delightful. One showed concern for another's life and suddenly they were the simple summation of a single past crime. Honestly, it was any wonder anyone did anything these days. No one wanted to look past emotion and into the heart of survival, perhaps even deeper reaching emotion than the pandering of 'grudges' and 'hatred'. Shai rejected his assistance, going so far as to snap at him about survival, HIM! Well, honestly he felt he'd done well for himself. Apart from the brief interlude of common sense by allying himself to a danger-drunk Eridanus and getting tied up and dragged along to some nonsense quest...he'd traveled the world at least partly...and once over, largely more distance than Shai could boast. Now he stood on the high ground of logical decisions...and the woman he...well, the woman (emotional resonance pending) was preparing to leap into the fray once more despite the very dangerous and very deadly bolts soaring over their heads.

And then Kamalia started exploding the monsters with her mind. Now, personally, Dhalvasha did not witness this. Instead, he saw the towers of sudden flame, the chanting of what sounded loosely of nonsense, and the unmistakable sound of metal melting and shrieking together. If anything made his decision in that time of times, in that darkest of hour, it was that.

Reaching into his clothes, Dhalvasha fumbled with the tiny vials of poison he had meticulously kept with him during his long journey. Just a dose...or two, of a strength draining draught coated his black claws before the doctor twisted the cork again and stowed the poison back where it had come from. In the noonday light his claws glistened, venom dripping along its length and painting the dull black a grisly umbra. Personally, Dhalvasha was not comfortable with the idea of trying to sedate a patient with raw poison. Of course, things were a bit too chaotic to worry about due process and procedure, so rather than try to speak words of wisdom to his webmate, he grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her backwards. As she fell against him, already turning as her body reacted to the attack violently (Of course), he plunged his claws into her side, aiming upwards in her back, towards the veins and paths the venom would undoubtedly take to bring weakness to her limbs and reason.

He almost winced to think of her eventual reaction...her reaction in a moment, but some stubborn part of his nature denied him the easy route of retreating and leaving her to a foolish decision. Grinding his teeth together, Dhalvasha continued his forward momentum to lay on top of her, becoming as obtrusive an obstacle as he could to steal her strength faster and thus make his and her expedience from here that much faster.

"Contrary," he grunted, struggling with the younger Symenestra (although far more agile than he) "To how this seems, you'll have to" (ow) "trust I'm doing it for...ergh...your own, shyke woman! Your own good!"

He punctuated his words with Djed, the sweeping sinister caress of Hypnotism seeping into her aura, her consciousness. He directed his magic to steal her will to fight, to repeat a mantra of helplessness, drain, exhaustion, dampening her emotional resolve and especially her anger.

In order to transport her, she would need to be at least somewhat despondent.

Somewhat sorta unconscious...minor status change at best.

At least she wouldn't snap as much.

Ah...wishful thinking.

[Ryce]

The mood had changed and the scene was becoming friendlier amongst the three as it proceeded. Ryce found it rather annoying, now with the excitement surely dying out and leading into uninteresting terms he was more ready to jump up and walk away. Instinctively Ryce flinched as the women in green spoke from the clearing on the edge. Being unsure if she had spotted him or not, he quickly regained his composure and continued his position lowered to the ground with legs and paws tucked underneath him. The kelvic seemed drawn to the portal that had suddenly ripped the scene, every part of his body screamed for him to jump through it. He wouldn’t allow himself be seen though, still not exactly sure as to what was happening. Ryce rose slowly and began cautiously making his way towards them, as the first lady entered and invited the others he quickened in pace determined. The beauty from the pond grabbed both Kale and Almech’s hands dragging them along at her side as they went through the portal. Ryce felt a sudden surge of urgency, rising and quickly coming to a mad dash towards the entrance. He had doubts as to what he was doing, but in the same hand felt compelled to do so. With little more thought on it, it was decided, in his fast pace he leaped through the portal not knowing what he would meet on the other side.

[Nyahna Sasin]

Ashes and smoke and blood and fire made Sasin gag. There were people screaming and moaning, corpses missing pieces, rubble scattered on the floor, and for a moment he wondered madly if Rysol had been having fun. He dismissed the thought, and began making his way through the ruined temple. Stepping over charred bodies and moaning survivors (not for long, he thought, slightly dazed), he looked around for…. something. What he was looking for, he had no clue.

Of course, he didn’t have too look very hard. The half melted metal golem stood out like… well, a half melted metal golem in a burning temple. It looked harmless, but then again, so did Sasin, at least in his human form, so he gave it a wide berth (better safe than sorry, and it wasn’t like it was going anywhere). He had barely taken a few steps when he spotted another golem, this one bashing in someone’s head with the butt of a spear. He felt a twinge of what may have been indignation. Rysol’s pants, why would anyone bash in a head when there was a perfectly good pointy metal bit? He flattened himself against a pillar as another golem passed by, and continued inwards, keeping an eye out for armed hunks of metal. Getting killed was not a good idea, even if they didn’t use the pointy bit (especially if they didn’t use the pointy bit).

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a certain top-hatted ringmaster, though Sasin, not having visited the colosseum, did not recognize him. What he did recognize, however, was the smile and eyes of someone who was deadly, and knew it. Backing up, Sasin pulled off his pants, and shifted. He shivered slightly, eyes half closed, as his legs melded together, his bones changed, and scales covered his lower body. He completed his transformation just as the kelvic brought his whip down with a crack. He ducked flying machinery, and grabbed his belt. Buckling it on, he scanned the temple. Shale was doing… something. A white haired man who had apparently come out of nowhere (Thief or acrobat, from the way he moved) was running at…

Sasin was suddenly aware of an odd pull, an attraction towards the Kelvic, and the… giant black hole? What in Siku’s name was that? He yelped in terror as the pull increased, and wrapped his tail and arms around a pillar. Gods above was he lifting off what was that? When it finally let up, he slithered behind a pile of rubble, where he let out a shaky breath and sent up a prayer of thanks to every god he knew that he was still on solid ground. When he finally managed to calm himself, he looked up, and stifled a shriek as he spotted the growing cracks in the wall right in front of him.

Abandoning all stealth, he slithered as fast as he could (silently thanking Siku for making Vipers so fast) to cover. He made it behind another pillar, but not before being hit with several bricks. When the dust settled, Sasin glanced around the pillar and moaned silently. This was not a good day for him. There were no words for just how much this was not a good day.

He turned to flee. He was fast, and he knew he could run, far far away, away from the temple, from this giant thing, this monstrosity. He’d have to leave everything behind, but it didn’t matter, he could start again somewhere else, somewhere safer…
but safety does not suit him he’d be alive he had been living for seasons but had he been alive that wasn’t the point except it was. He had run before and it had never done anything for him. There were times to run, but right now, he had to stay and fight. if you run you’ll never stop

So he turned, told his self preservation to shut up, and pulled out his daggers. Not that they were going to help much, but any little thing would help here.

[Laute]

As the two ran toward him, the woman stalked boldly behind them. Laute did not like the scent of her, the sound of her steps. It spoke of power, in unmeasurable volumes, refined and cruel.

She was someone Laute could not take down on his own. His skills ranged in the physical, in the raw strength that lay within a Zith. If she was caught unawares, if her power was limited, then perhaps he could attempt an attack. If, but there was no way of knowing in the split second that determined a battle.

The other two humans didn't get very far before the male froze, swaying ever so slightly as his face contorted in pain. It was the woman's work, clearly, her laughter boasting of it as it rang through the courtyard. Fortunately, her attention was focused on her prey and Laute took this chance to escape.

A cursory glance informed him any other exit would take him past her. Instead, he would have to run back the way he came. Turning around, he started to pull Aditi toward the road they took when a brick wall suddenly stood in its place. Solid and dusty-red, it blended in with the other walls facing the disaster behind him.

As thought it had belong here the entire time. He didn't even hear the city change behind him. Staring at it for a moment, he gritted his teeth. Looking up, he considered flying for a brief minute.

A very brief minute. The buildings up there were tall, very tall, and chunks of fire and rock still soared through the air. Storms clouds slowly gathered, electricity charging the air, and the danger up there was no more than the danger up here.

Her attacks could just as easily reach him up there as it did down here.

Clearly, the city would not let him leave unscathed. He would have to fight his way out.

Flexing his wrist, he quirked his lips at the thought. He might not be as blood-thirsty as most of his kin but there was still a part of him that could not resist the thrill of a battle. His interests had always lain in other matters, his thoughts on keeping the slave out of danger, but even he occasionally desired to fight just for the sake of a fight.

Especially against such a powerful opponent.

To tear his claws into the warm flesh, to feel her own djed melt his. True, he would have to fight only enough to ensure the slave escaped safely, keeping his mind focused entirely on the situation on hand. Still, he could not deny the charge that ran through him as he anticipated the fight.

Turning, he faced the woman once more. The humans had disappeared, their screams falling faster than they did as they sliced through the air. Flying would have been a mistake, then, if she could send those two so high into the sky.

Crouching, he unfurled his wings behind him. His claws were exposed, his body a tight spring. Aditi moved further away from him, to the wall, ready to run at a moment's instance.

The woman remained poised as she faced him, before turning away to speak to the pycon at her feet.

Distrustful, he watched as she spoke to the small creature. Was this a trap? Or perhaps...

He had done this himself, to prey that were beneath him. To the small mice and rabbits that raced through the undergrowth. They were not worthy of his attention, no more than he was of hers. It could be arrogance, but the screams above him were ample evidence of her abilities.

Another step and she disappeared, into the mist and shadow that covered the sky. It was like she hadn't been there in the first place, a ghost that wandered the ruins of Alvadas.

Straightening, he listened as the two continued to fall.

Useless. He had expected more. The pycon would be of little use to him, small as it was, and with the woman gone the other routes out of this charred ground were open.

"We leave now--"

Before he could take a step, the ground cracked.

No, not cracked. Swirled and swayed and blended together. Around him the colours merged, buildings disappearing into one another as they merged into one. His world shrank, shrank and disappeared as the area around him grew smaller and smaller until there was nothing left but him, his slave, the pycon, and the dark.

It was not night, not the dark of the caverns he knew so well. Even in the deepest of caves there had always been a little light--a ray through a crack in the wall, the glow of the moss that grew in the caves. Enough that he could still see.

Here, there was nothing. Nothing to see, nothing to feel. He couldn't quite move beyond a small distance from the pycon, as though an unseen barrier surrounded them. His way barred, he pulled Aditi close behind him, between him and the pycon. He doubted the small clay creature would hurt her and if something were to emerge from the darkness, at the very least she would be between the two fighters.

How long they stood like that, he did not know. Ignoring the pycon, he examined the barrier around them, the distance he could walk. Aditi remained where he placed her, her eyes darting wildly as he moved blind. A hand on the barrier, he determined the range he could move, the space available to them.

Suddenly, he was no longer blind. He could see the dark curls of Aditi, the sharp point of the pycon's blade. Outside of the wall, he could still see nothing, a black abyss. There was light here but not enough to engulf that void.

Oddly, this light came from beneath his feet, growing bright as time passed. As though they were surfacing feet first. The bright pool shifted, pieces of colour and shapes appearing where nothing used to be. Beside Laute the two humans landed, softly thudding onto the floor. Cracks mended, sewing together the images until a single picture appeared.

It was a room, a noisy, well-lit, crowded room. People scurried here and there, long feathers of hawk and owl sticking out of their hair and their pockets as they scribbled on loose parchment.

In the middle of it all, directly in front of them was a young woman. Tall, confident, she was the one in charge and most likely the one who summoned them. Brimming with power, her dress shifted from shade to shade, like the city Laute had come to know.

"Who are you?" He asked, ignoring the looks the writers gave him. Standing in front of his slave, he kept alert for the whisperings of danger.

Laute did not trust her. Her appearance was young, female, well-dressed, just like the green woman. And just like the green woman, her intentions were unknown.

"Why are we here?"

[Iliana]

Iliana felt her res swept aside, easily and almost as an after thought. She was struck by how easily it had been done. Gritting her teeth Iliana's hand tightend on Miro's, and she ran, calling out as she did to the Goddess Makutsi, Please, give me the agility of a coursing stream, and the strength of a mighty river. Suddenly, Iliana heard Miro's voice call out and his hand release hers. Turning, she saw his face twisted in pain, saw him stumble and heard the woman as she spoke. Iliana's heart skipped a beat, Is she... Ionu...? She only had time for that one thought before Miro slumped, released from the pain inflicted on him. Calling out Iliana rushed to his side, catching his shoulders so that he would not fall or cause injury on himself. Placing a hand on his cheek Iliana turned his head so that she could look in his eyes. A feeling of relief spread through her when she saw he was still conscious. That relief was short lived. Without warning the world shifted around Iliana, and the girl found herself falling once more. Her heart leapt into her throat, and her arms pulled Miro close to her as she clung to the man. A cry escaped her lips and she closed her eyes tight, praying once more for the Goddess' guidance. With a THUMP, Iliana landed on the floor, hard enough to jar her but not enough to cause any real damage. Shaking her head, Iliana slowly raised herself from the floor, looking around as she did. The girl was surprised to find herself in the strange room with the scurrying people. Blinking, her eyes locked on the woman in the shimmering dress of purple. Iliana eyed the dress for a moment, unsure if it was changing or not, however her attention was quickly drawn to Miro once more. Shuffling forward Iliana pulled Miro closer from where he had fallen, taking his arm and holding him close to her side in case he was unsteady. Iliana's attention then returned once more to what the woman was saying, and her mind was abuzz with thoughts and feelings. Breathing deeply, Iliana tried to push down the raging annoyances so that she could think clearly. Her eyes looked over Alluvia, now seeing her clearly Iliana was struck by her beauty. The woman's hair was done up in a fantastic way, and the dress complemented her body well. Iliana fidgeted slightly, acutely aware of how her own tasseled hair and dirt and soot smeared face must look in comparison... However she did not let these thoughts distract her for long. I have never heard of the Department of Illusions... Iliana thought to herself. Her brow furrowed in thought. Glancing to the side, Iliana could not help but be surprised to see a Zith man close beside her and Miro, but she also could not help but agree with his questions. Looking up at Alluvia Iliana mustered up her own courage to speak, "And what is the Department of Illusions? I-I have never heard of it..." She glanced at Miro before continuing, "Please, what is happening?"