Quest II. The night the towers cried [open]

[Satu]

Emotions were the lifeblood of the HeartSeer. As she lived and breathed, the feelings of others touched her HeartSense every waking moment. Rarely was there a time she did not feel them, the good and the ugly both. Her own emotions took a lesser place in her mind to the ever present dance of other’s Hearts. But when Satu felt the hypnotically induced Lust, the Konti was at first unsure of who it even belonged to. The need of it so strong and urgent overran all else. Her mind attempted to follow it, and was surprised to find it was her own. So few had ignited such a Lust within her, only Oni the Myrian, and Vanator… but this feeling was different. More demanding. She thought it real and deep. Her head turned to look her hand; it was still upon Ash’ney’s shoulder. Deliberately her gaze rose to look up at her self-appointed caretaker. Ash’ney... It was him… Why had she never noticed before how tall he stood? Or how handsome his features were? Satu’s senses took in every detail of the man with new intensity. The Konti needed him! She could not know the urgency she felt came from without… This need overrode all other thoughts within her. Easily her hand trailed down his arm, her touch upon him was intimate and charged with meaning. How strong and solid he felt… Satu was taken aback, and her breathing shifted into something deeper and primal. “Ash’aney…” she breathed, before she was lost once again in the craving of him.

[Faroul]

Faroul had no sooner translated the situation for Ma'ii when chaos erupted. The Akalak's hand melted from a poisoned touch; an undulating thing had risen from beneath the disc to slam against the barrier, cracking it; the floor trembled and jarred him from his crouch onto his knees. Others stumbled and fell; some shrieked; still more died beneath the panicked, trampling feet of those fleeing the seeping ooze. It was nothing short of madness. However, despite the bedlam and the bizarre surroundings, the jackal of his instinct did not fail him. The Benshira gripped the Chaktawe's wiry arm, and together the two dodged people and puddles of ooze alike. They shuffled away from the edge of the disc, attempting to avoid both the alarming cracks and the militant Black Suns, which he wagered were equally dangerous. Finally, the two men came to huddle in a slightly calmer spot, pausing to take their bearings. The Akalak had been surrounded by a small crowd attempting to heal and protect him. The dark-haired woman had entangled herself with the aggressive soldiers. Some strange clay figure was attempting to shout something he could not hear over the general din. What he took to be an Akvatari hovered near one of the cracks, attempting to seal it with paint. A lone youth with blood-spattered garments looted a corpse. One of the sheer white women knelt some distance away - praying, perhaps - and the darkly-clad man he had seen before stood at her side. Bodies punctuated the shadowy floor. Standing amid this tangle of wounded, hangers-on, god-marked murderers, strange creatures, opportunistic scavengers, and herdlike men destined only to die, he felt as if the entire span of Hai had been dropped onto this single disc. It was again only the stars and the lack of cavernous moisture that reminded him he had not returned to the pit. He shuddered, drawing his ragged coats close; but it was too wan a warmth to turn aside the chill of ghosts that lived within bones. There is no one to save us. No god will tread here. The situation, however strange, was no different than any other in his life. There was no chance to survive but the one he made. Rising, he began to cross to the darkly-clad young man and his white companion (Hadrian and Kamalia), who seemed more clear-headed than most present. Halfway there, however, he startled at a motion to his side; the sight stopped him dead in his tracks. Kicked, the dark-haired woman had fallen right into the ooze.

OOC: TarotIt seems that Ma'ii has taken an absence. Feel free to assume he just stays with Faroul, unless you have other plans for him.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Inward Kamalia focused, bracing herself for the mad and malevolent being that lived within. Dark was its voice, and seductive were its whispers, it attempted to inveigle Kamalia into letting her out, that she needed her for this very moment. Kamalia had learned to ignore these dark whispers most of the time, clinging passionately to the light, to her adamant faith in Avalis. In Kontinese she prayed fervently to the Mother of Seers, pleading for answers and enlightenment.

And the goddess had answered.

The moment was an epiphany for Kamalia. The Konti wizard was not accustomed to direct manifestations of the goddess, and most of the time she was only rewarded by visions in the Chavena. From the time she had left her Kelvic lover, she took what was offered her, but in any way that truly mattered, she walked alone. In truth, Avalis had always watched over her, especially in the moments when she needed Her most.

Her sheer power and majesty made her feel so small, so unworthy, yet Her reassuring presence enveloped her in a motherly embrace. A melodic voice filled her ears with music, drowning out magic’s tainting whispers. It was not the first time she heard Her. Her voice was an achingly familiar song, the most the beautiful she had ever listened to, and in those moments Kamalia’s heart was free of fear and apprehension. The scent of Seer’s Lilies filled her nostrils, enslaving her senses. And oh, how she yearned to turn her head and stare at Her impossible beauty! She knew she would go mad if she did, yet would it not be worth it just marvel at the Her grace?

She listened closely as Avalis blessed her with visions and information. Then Her voice faded in the cacophony of fear and chaos. She wanted to hear Her again, to sense her divine presence, but nothing that beautiful and painful could last forever. “Your love sustains me; Your Sight guides me. I shall not fear ten thousand men should they set themselves against me,” Kamalia ended the prayer, ardently thanking her goddess.

Finally she rose and observed. The man beside her was calmly weaving res, and for a while she was content to watch as he skillfully worked his magic. An alien emotion ignited in her heart—lust. She did not think herself capable of feeling such a peculiar, unfitting emotion in such a dreadful situation. The Konti sorceress stared at Hadrian with siren, measuring eyes, and should he sweep his auristic gaze towards her, her emotions would be glaringly obvious. Did she lust for his power? For those chlorine eyes that gleamed with intelligence? The fragrance of ink, fresh parchment and djed? Was it her Other Self reacting to his masterful display of magic?

Moreover, a foreign thought blossomed in her mind: “The monster is coming back, and it will kill me unless I appease it.” Kamalia’s Gift—the sensitivity to truth—alarmed her that this was not her real impression. Something was amiss.

With sheer willpower, Kamalia shook off the strange emotions and assumed self-control as she always had. This was not the time for weakness and juvenile frivolities. Some fragments of lust remained, but she would deal with them another time. Did he like Konti?

“Avalis has revealed to me,” she spoke to him serenely, “that the creature we stand against is called Ravarisk. Once proud and powerful, this creature was chased relentlessly through land and sea, forced to dwell in the skies when there was nowhere to hide. It is intelligent and sentient, and it hungers, lured to the power of this place. Perhaps it is a Fragment. I would have known more if I could stay longer in a diviner's trance, but there is a limit to my Gift.”

They were running out of time— of air, more precisely. But she must wait a little longer before using her magic. She felt that she must. The reimancer focused on the Pathfinder shifting in her hand. She was not aware of the Benshira man who was approaching them.

[Miro]

Miro watched in horror as the giant green man became injured from his handshake. He cowered back, walking slowly away from the crowd. Suddenly even more confusing things began to happen. The platform they were all standing on began to shake violently. Miro staggered a bit barely able to keep his footing, shielding Kali with his hands. Looking up, he saw a tentacle latch onto the side of the barrier. The shock was too much to comprehend. People panicked running around wildly. People were being pushed to the ground and trampled at the mercy of a wild unyielding crowd. Miro couldn't move an inch. His body and mind froze, keeping him firmly planted as madness overtook the gathering of people.

Miro's mind remained blank until Kinneas grabbed Miro by the arm and began to pull him away from the pooling red liquid. "What is going on here? Kali, Kinne, are we going to be safe here? Everything is going wrong fast. What do we do! What is this red stuff? Let's stay together, we will be safest that way. I'll protect you as best as I can." Miro moved closer to Kinneas, taking rest in his shadow. His hand rested on Grievers handle anxiously.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian kept the cyclone of a shield spinning close to them, easier to control and less wasteful of energy. Who knew how long he would have to keep it up, or what other expenses of his soul stuff would be required to see him through this ordeal. It would be good to save a few others, too, of course. Perhaps they could feed the Black Sun bullies to the Ravarisk. Ravarisk. He tried to pin down that word, whether it was familiar or whether it was just the familiar cadences of the old tongue. Fragment he understood. He wondered if some deity would come and give it him as a pet; one could always hope. It sprang eternal, or so they said. "Ahem," he said, trying to forget the look of lust in her eyes, else his shield would fall apart. It wasn't easy weaving real Shield energy in with res, at least not for him. "Ah... did She give you any hint as to how we might neutralize it?" Kill was such a strong word, so final. They could not study it if it were dead. Then again, he didn't relish Dira's embrace so soon in his young life. While waiting for her reply, he turned his head back toward the thing, trying to sense as much of it from its aura as he could, including whether it might be possible for him to hypnotize it, however lightly, in order to prevent further violence.

[Tarot]

In the beginning, an ancient poet sang and the scholarly might remember, there was so much knowledge to be had that the goddess Qalaya sat down to record it, lest the young universe be destroyed by its own maddening secrets. She sat down on a rock and wrote, wrote, wrote. An entire aeon passed, the poet sang: the lands around her turning from grassland into desert and glacier and grassland again. By the time she was finished, much ink had been spilled, pooling deep in the bowels of the world, where it grew and remembered. If the poet is to be believed, such was the birth of Ravarisk and its ilk. A creature of memory and red ink: two often unkind things merged in terrible wedlock. Riki and Aidara failed once more. Just when they thought they were about to make progress, the darkness pushed them back. It was making fun of them, teasing them with false hopes and then crushing them mercilessly. Was there really no healing Nil'kayn's wound? Yet everyone's prayers eventually found an answer. The nearest symbols on the floor began to glow slightly, and their light rose slowly, moving towards the wound. When the Akalak's hand was enveloped by the glow, the darkness flickered, then both effects disappeared at once. It seemed to them that the curse hadn't been destroyed, but more like... exiled. Maybe even teleported away. When the Chaon power gone, they managed to sterilize the wound easily and stopped the bleeding to a point where a tourniquet would not be necessary. They had done what they could, but at least it had worked. The symbols were still glowing slightly, as if awakened by the display of faith and prayer. While Hadrian readied his spell to help fix the barrier, Bob Barton was selflessly experimenting for the greater good of the community. His volunteer hadn't quite said he didn't want to participate despite plenty of opportunities to do so. The Ukalas be praised for such white souls! When Bob dropped the beggar's hand on the vermillion ooze, it didn't melt away. Neither did Cassandra's limbs when she landed on three out of all fours in it (one hand being bravely seized by Talen in the nick of time). For an endlessly brief time, absolutely nothing happened. Apparently the flesh-melting act had gotten old after Nil'kayn's hand. Cassandra felt the fluid all around her, warm and strangely inviting. Then, it started forcing its way in through her skin, under her nails, into her pores. The girl felt the alien warmth invade her in a matter of seconds, during which she was utterly paralyzed on her knees. She felt her consciousness dimming, yet she wasn't passing out. The scorching heat built up inside her, and yet it didn't feel unpleasant. Her heart started beating faster and faster, but it felt entirely natural. She realized she knew things, too, things that a tavern girl shouldn't have been able to know. She knew the names of gods long since dead. She knew tongues spoken in times she could hardly imagine. And she knew pi - whatever that was - up to the ten thousandth digit. Cassandra stood up slowly and turned to face Talen and Darik who was still lying down. The white of her eyes was now vermillion, with tiny flakes of black script swimming lazily behind the pupils. Bob made the same discovery exactly at the same time. The foreign substance was heightening her metabolism to the extreme: her skin was burning with fever, her heartbeat easily over two hundred per chime and her senses sharper than they'd ever been. Veins bulged on her exposed arm, muscles ripe with borrowed power. To her eye, everyone else seemed to be wobbling in slow motion, surrounded by halos of light. Even words came to her as low-pitched grunts. The sword was dangerously close. ----Your womb is no good---- Her consciousness registered the thought as her own. ----Take others to pools---- and ----Kill everyone---- followed suit (though Krysus may have something to do with the latter). And finally ----Take pregnant one to pools----. Could she resist this? Did she want to? The beggar certainly couldn't or didn't. His head turned sharply and his red gaze met Bob's. Swinging like a pendulum, the scrawny man disentangled from Bob's grip like a martial artist and elbowed him in the chest. As he was literally sent flying, Bob felt a sharp lance of pain and the cracking sound of a broken rib. His momentum was so strong that he crashed into the barrier and bounced back, landing on the disc's floor. He could only look up at the ragged, scruffy-looking man he'd exploited until now, and who now seemed to possess superhuman strength. If he died here, he could at least take comfort in the fact that he'd brought it upon himself. The beggar looked down, but then turned around and began shambling towards another group of people. He passed dangerously close to Faroul, but seemed to ignore him unless provoked. He wanted Sira. The Kelvic just knew on an instinctual level that those vermillion eyes were fixed on her. The reddish goo was slowly zigzagging between the old tiles, weaving a spiderweb that was leaving people smaller and smaller safe zones. It only got worse with the Black Sun taking up a large part of the disc's center. Driven by some kind of intelligence, the thing was herding these mortals, and a group of about a dozen were already all but surrounded. These included Miro and Kinneas. Aside from the two of them, these people had barely noticed the fact. Ironically, almost no-one seemed to see that with every man being turned into a servant of Ravarisk their chances of survival took a severe hit. "Someone just tried some rudimentary Hypnotism on us," said one of the Black Suns, the oldest in the party who was thin as a rail. He had the typical mage build. "I suspected as much," the leader nodded. "If it's the best they can do then they are no threat to us." The man's gaze shifted to his companion, the burly female warrior, who was leaving their side. "Where the petch are you going, Tatishka?" The giant of a woman grunted and pointed at Cassandra who stood transfixed in the middle of the pool of ooze. "The whore is mine," she grinned, patting her spiked club and setting out in the direction of Cassandra's group. The leader seemed displeased, but made no further scene. He couldn't afford to have his authority seen as challenged, so he may as well pretend to agree. 'Mediocre', a voice whispered in Zlakalia's mind in her own voice. 'And this would be the brilliant planner, the methodical mage? You call this hypnotism? They felt it coming a mile away. It went only slightly better with the Konti. You can do better, Kali, much much better. Show me a real spell for a change, yes? Let's bring someone down this time. Let the giants see we're big where it counts.' Hadrian's spell was now ready for casting. Pathfinder shifted in Kamalia's hand, almost in frustration. As if it had things to say, but the sorceress had no ears to listen with. Then again, Pathfinder's task was simply to point her to Sagallius' staffs. Outside of that, there was no contract and no deal. And well above the chaos, Niapret was painting the dome yellow. It would serve no purpose whatsoever in the face of a new attack, and in fact most of the paint just got sucked out within moments of being applied over the cracks, but it was deeply artistic. Maybe she could draw a nice painting of this later on. At least Ariel's kitty was safe with her. For now.

[Miro]

Miro's mind was racing as he was herded to the center of a gathering of people. He pushed hard, forcing his way to the outside. "Okay, red stuff, people..what do I do?" He glanced down at Kali, who looked none too pleased. "Kinneas, Kali..sorry, but you guys are gonna have to get along. Please don't be too mad Zlakalia, I'll make sure Kinneas takes good care of you. He glanced around, seeing Kinneas break free from the crowd. Miro gently reached in fitting his hands under Kali's arms and lifted her. He hugged her close and whispered gently down at her. "Kali, I don't want anything to happen to you. Kinneas will keep you safe, I know it. Take good care of him for me, okay? I'll get us out of here safely!" He lifted his head, finding Kinneas' gaze. "Kinneas, CATCH!" Miro sent outstretched arms in Kinneas' direction, sure that his Evantia would give him all the help needed to ensure a catch.

"Okay, now what can I do? A platform? no..too much djed. Wait, a bridge!" Miro took the res he had stored and began to add to it, growing its size. He began melting his harness and using the water created to further his collection of usable mass. His shirt fell to the floor, and as he melted the container holding it. As he was picking it up, he saw how dire the situation was becoming. The redness that enclosed them was closing in. Miro tied his shirt around his left arm, taking a short moment to do so as he backed away. Glancing around, he looked for the best way out. "Joining another group will do nothing for us. The best area...the...the arm melters."

Now it was time to put the spell into motion. He began to put the outline of the bridge in place. It spread across the ooze, leading to the center where the could avoid it. Well, temporarily at least. The walkway crafted spanned around four feet across, slowly slanting at each entrance to give it stability. It lifted an extra inch above the flowing red liquid. The thin bridge as it stood now would be too little to support anybody. Miro pumped more djed into his hands, slowly the frame increased thickened, perhaps an two inches thick. He focused his mind hard, making several small columns protrude downwards near where he expected the floor to be. It wasn't perfect, but it could get everybody across, if they went one by one. He took a deep breath and focused his mind. "Its a big strain, but I can do this, almost done." "Nix" Miro heaved as he transmuted the spell. He eased his way back, regaining his composure while panting. "Kinneas...you..need...take Kali across, but be careful!" Miro staggered to his feet, as Kinneas crossed successfully. He undid his shirt from his arm and began to shake it out and put it on. Turning to the crowd of people he began to explain. "Everybody, we need to move from here. It's not safe, so lets cross this walkway..CAREFULLY. One at a time and everybody will get across safe." Miro carefully walked across the bridge and watched the group he left behind, hoping they could work together, even in a time of crisis. Once the bridge was of no further use, he would take as much of the remains as possible to recycle for casting his next spell.

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra's skirt was soaked red by the pool, the crimson liquid causing the fabric to cling to her legs. It was warm, its feel on her skin familiar and it awoke memories within her of the first time she killed. Blood! This was blood! But it was not like that of the man she had gutted like a fish in a desolate room in Syliras, this was an entirely different thing. She knew that the moment it began to seep into her skin, her flesh. The subsequent explosion of knowledge - too much knowledge - into her brain caused her hazel eyes to widen and made her want to scream, but paralyzed as she was, only soft whimpers escaped from her lips. As soon as the sensation began however, it was gone, replaced by another: that of power. She felt changed, transcended, evolved over these puny mortals that surrounded her. Even her own thinking seemed to have changed. Thoughts - her own she assumed, for it spoke with her own mental voice - whispered commands in her head, things she had to do. The first made her feel shame that her body was not sufficient for the one that granted her these superhuman powers, but the next ones that followed overrode the emotion and made her feel the need to act. Vaguely, she recalled having been magically manipulated by a man, in a place far from here, to do his bidding. Was the same thing happening to her now, with all these words echoing in her mind? No, he could only impart emotions and crude ideas in her head, and the voice in her mind was her own. She still had free will. And she chose to act. With her one arm still held by the man-boy who tried to save her from falling into the crimson pool (a foolish notion, she now realized), Cassandra used it as leverage to pull herself to her feet. She looked at him, her eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted. One of her previous thoughts still echoed in her mind - "Take others to pools" - and she knew just how to do it. Her body may not be good enough to her benefactor, but it would serve for this man before her. "Take me," she whispered huskily, lustily. The man was slow in reacting, everything was slow all around her in fact, and Cassandra took it as hesitation. Her free hand shot out, grabbing the lapel of the youth's shirt before pulling him to her. His face was close now, so very close, and Cassandra...Cassandra did the natural thing to do when in such close proximity with a person of the opposite sex. She kissed him, viciously, her full lips pressing against his, the whole act of it oozing with animal passion and lust. She must have frozen him with that display, this slow, slow man. Cassandra used that opportunity to hoist him up in the air - easily and one handed, her new-found powers giving her the strength to do so - and threw him up and over into the pool of red. She did not bother to check how the man had landed, opting instead to pick up her dagger and his sword. The twitching of her red veins, concealed under her fingerless gloves, reminded her of her other obligation, one that must have been an epiphany from the goddess that watched over her. She needed to kill. Her veins were tingling in anticipation for the deed. With the two weapons in hand, Cassandra stalked towards the downed Darik. She needed to thank him in her own special way for exposing her to Ravarisk's ichor. Everyone Please Read! : If your PC is pregnant, please tell me! P.S. Talen, sorry I took some liberties with the powers Tarot granted me. But now, you can have it too!

[Bob Barton]

"Cough, cough" It all happened so fast that Bob did not even know what happened. So much for gratitude after all Bob done for the man. Was he faking all this time that he was unconscious when he is now so healthy? When he saw the beggar's head turning, Bob released the beggar like he wanted but more in shock than caution. "Good, I-" Before Bob could complete his sentence he found himself flying and crashing into something else.

Right after he struggled to get back up, Bob did not know what was going on with the beggar when he headed over to the group of people. With his newfound strength he should be taking care of the Stryfe for revenge but then why other people? Was he going to try and muscle his way to the top like the Stryfe did? What a waste of Bob's partially good intentions. Bob took in a deep breath to try for a shout and when he did his ribs started to hurt causing him to cough and splutter. Damn, was it broken too? One at a time. He had to fix the damage he caused. Ignoring the pain he took another deep breath and yelled out as loud as possible to the other group "LOOK OUT!"

Too much, the pain was unbearable. Bob was going to need to find a healer but then everyone was too busy with their own problems like escaping the ooze. Then from all the panicked voices, Bob realized something. The weak beggar he was using all this time was suddenly empowered and revitalized after touching the ooze. Other than that he could see no problem. Not unless he was one of those kontis or something which can read other people to know that the beggar changed mentally as well.

Bob took out his waterskin and started to drink up the water. It should help keep his body in functioning order through this ordeal and like his uncle taught him, water is a great medicine. Bob saw it before when his uncle gave it to a sick man which suddenly got better. Uncle Marny said it was something about placebo but that only confused Bob more since it was water. He only needed one miracle drink but two would be even better.

After he emptied it, Bob crawled over to the nearest pool of ooze coughing and spluttering. No one would care about a broken midget, he would have to fight for his own survival. When he got to it he quickly filled the waterskin up with the ooze. The beggar did not melt or die or anything so it should be alright to touch it and Bob started to push the liquid with his bare hands into the mouth of the waterskin. He intended to drink it, get strong like the beggar and then concentrate on running around again. Maybe this time with a better chance since he will be stronger if the beggar was a good example.

[Niapret]

Niapret realised sealing the cracks with paint didn't work, but did anything ever go as planned in this sad world? It was pretty, though.. She should really paint this, but she felt one of her hands occupied. Right, the kitten. She looked around, down at the people. They were surely all going to die, even she who could hold her breath for several hours.. At least in water, but surely she could hold it in the black air outside the dome? It was only a guess really that she couldn't breathe the air outside, but she thought it was a good guess, seeing as how the air she knew she could breathe leaked out.

She saw parts of the floor light up, and an ice bridge being formed, it was eerily pretty. How sad to think she might never make a painting of this, but surely it'd look better if she left the people out of the painting? Her thoughts returned to the people, and she remembered that she should try to focus on trying to help the situation, even if they were acting like uncivilized, criminal and dirty beasts.

How to help? Maybe ask the ice bridge maker make a small but raised platform? Or could the goo climb? It seemed sentinent, as she could easily see from above how the landlubbers were being herded. Was the kitten's person down there? She tried to pet the kitten carefully and calmingly, while thinking. The pretty floor.. Someone had made it glow, but how? Surely it wasn't merely for the beauty of it? Most things had other purposes besides being pretty, even if a few things, like paintings, didn't.

She flittered over hastily towards the two people standing focused on the injured man, they seemed to have healed him a bit, for he was no longer leaking. "How did you make the floor light up? I'm thinking it might help us in some way."

She was hoping the goo couldn't move onto the floor that was lit up, but she doubted there would be such luck. They were surely meant to die, but she didn't panic, everybody dies. She just had to hope for a quick and clean end, instead of being melted, left to bleed to death or something similarly nasty, but when has fate ever been kind?