II. The night the towers cried [open]

by **Cassandra Coven** on March 13th, 2012, 12:06 pm

Unlike the Black Sun woman she had just faced, whose movements appeared lumbering and slow, as if moving through water, the Konti was much faster than Cassandra has expected, shifting easily to meet her blade with her own ornate weapon. Suvai locked hilts against the steel stiletto, effectively stopping the dagger before it could pierce flesh. Cassandra was ready however, twisting the blade to move past the hinderance, stabbing it onwards towards Satu's face. It wasn't a fatal attack - the dark-haired barmaid wanted to disable rather than kill the Konti in case she was the pregnant one Ravarisk wanted.

But her choice to spare death upon Satu proved to be her undoing.

The Konti's declaration, coupled with the reaction, and subsequent attack, of the woman with the bow, led Cassandra to deduce that the last of the trio was who she was after. Her eyes flickered to Sira, and that momentary distraction was all the Konti needed to slip the twin of her first suvai past Cassandra's defenses. Had her reflexes not been boosted by the ooze, the blade would have wounded her mortally. As it was, the barmaid was able to dodge back, but not before the suvai grazed her arm.

Flesh wound, Cassandra's mind registered, disregarding the hit in her rage ,and reared to go back into the offensive. Instead, she found her limbs inexplicably locking into place.

"What...?" she uttered, before her jaw muscles stopped working, leaving her unable to speak further. The Konti's weapon was coated with poison! And Cassandra's heart, pumping at a much greater pace than was normal, only helped to course the venom that much faster all over her body. The numbing effect of the suvai settled upon her in mere seconds when it would have taken minutes on an uninfected person.

Cassandra was helpless. More than that, she was frozen where she stood.

Aidara's arrow thudded against her shoulder, though she hardly felt the projectile's impact. She began to topple backwards but her troubles did not end there. Whether by luck or design, the Konti had positioned her directly into the path of the block of the block of ice flung by the midget during their brief clash. It smashed squarely on Cassandra's back, sending her sprawling between the three women.

Notes :

by **Sira** on March 16th, 2012, 2:25 pm

As it was, Sira didn't have to do anything at all. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. Cassandra came forward, the Konti leaped to Sira's defense. The kelvic could tell by her movements she was skilled with her weapons, though their names she could not place. Still, Sira was glad the Konti was on their side. A grazing blow by Satu's weapon seemed enough to disable the crazed woman, and Sira recognized the poison, or at least it was similar to one she had suffered from herself not so long ago. Being unable to move, yet still aware of your surroundings, it was perhaps one of the most terrifying experiences there was.

Addy's arrow came next catching Cassandra in the shoulder and Sira knew the fight was over. One didn't survive long being shot and paralyzed, but as if that wasn't enough, a massive block of ice crashed into the woman's back and sent her sprawling to the ground. Sira's eyes shifted to the one who had thrown the block, a tiny man who should have had trouble even lifting something of that size, much less throw it into someone's back. The rage in his eyes was just like that of Cassandra's; that coupled with his strength, Sira knew he was an agent of the monster.

"We aren't going anywhere with you," Sira shouted as she stepped from behind Aidara, not moving in front but only to the side so that she could get a better view.

Sira wasn't used to letting others protect her. She was the protector, the warrior, the hunter, but Sira knew she had to keep her baby safe. What good would it do to refuse giving it to the monster if she lost the child due to carelessness in a fight? Priskil, help us, Sira thought to herself as she raised her sword, preparing for whatever would come next.

by **Talen Stirling** on March 18th, 2012, 8:41 am

Conflict raged within Talen's mind and in front of his eyes as the two women engaged in an unevenly matched conflict. He looked upon the blade, his father's blade he remembered, and leaned back on one foot to attack the woman holding it. Judging by her posture, she wouldn't know how to use it.
And suddenly it was flying towards him at wicked speed, the clumsy but hard throw sending it swirling towards him in a beautiful and lethal spin. That steel held the promise of power, of safety and something familiar in all of this blood-soaked mad chaos.

Talen sidestepped, turning around and moving his right hand out to catch the sword-handle as it came spinning down into it. He'd done it before, although never thrown by anyone else and not spun more than once. It was all about timing and following the momentum. Swords were rarely about forcing something, but about guiding it.
He smiled and whipped the blade out to the side, watching the woman he had though vulnerable hurl her armoured opponent into a fiery death. If the explosion would reach them, he would jump.

A voice spoke in his head, Take the women to the pools, kill anyone in your way. He would oblige... The second part. In the chaos, his eyes sought those that worshipped it. He didn't know that, of course. But the Ravarisk did.

Suddenly he ran! His blade and shield swung in tandem with his legs, their weight hurling him with breakneck speed towards the remaining Black Sun. He was vaguely aware of people fighting all over the disc, of all the people crying out for aid, rage and terror. But compared to his own rage and the voice in his head it was an unintelligible and indifferent blur. He raised his shield in front of him, aiming a brutal tackle at the mage who had attempted to incinerate him. He could see it happening; he'd ram his shield into the man's face only to carry through with his sword's momentum and stab the second man left standing.
At least in fighting, there was a kind of violent serenity. All of the chaos, all of the things he didn't understand and couldn't help would disappear.

by **Ariel** on March 27th, 2012, 3:09 pm

Ariel rolled her eyes. "No," she growled. "There is no use in praying to gods more than likely too preoccupied to pay any attention to but a handful of mixed races, fighting for their lives." There was a pause. "No use in praying indeed, for the gods won't be saving us." The pycon's legs swung a final time before coming to a halt. "No, the only thing that can save us now are ourselves. What our minds hold. What we can figure out by simply observing the madness going on all around us."

For a long time, Ariel fell silent, before continuing. "That goo the monster leaves in its wake seems to alter the minds of those it touches. Turning them into something they are not." Again she paused, for effect. "It seems as though this creature has some otherworldly power, we as mortals, can only begin to guess at, to merely fathom. I need not tell you that it has more than enough power to end us all. Enough strength." Rafael mewed, bringing Ariel out of her speech. She couldn't reach him, and wished to offer a reassuring pat, but there was no time. She simply hoped he had enough sense to fall silent, for now. For his calls may bring the beast down upon him.

"We need to work together then, to end this. So we do not all perish here. As you put it," Ariel continued. "Although death is a questionable state, is it not, when so many choose to remain behind as ghosts, with unfinished business." Ariel sighed. "But I digress. We have no time to ponder such things. Not when the world is crashing down. Crumbling all around us. We must discover the secrets of the goo, of the glyphs. They seem to hold the secrets to our survival... if only there were another mage, someone knowledgeable in such arts, we could figure this out all the more easily. But I cannot sense anyone. Not here, not in this mess..."

Sheer madness.

by **Eridanus** on April 16th, 2012, 8:41 am

The konti seemed to be distracted with handling the staff in her hands, and did not respond to his requests. Frustrated, Eridanus glanced around again, only finding a picture of chaos and increasingly lethal anarchy as groups belonging to various factions rampaged around. However, the one that caught his attention was that of a lanky and skinny man deep in meditation. His expression betrayed some sort of anguish amidst immense concentration, and Eridanus found the man linked to the gaps at the side of the building they were in.

Shields... What could he be wanting to shield for?

Approaching the calm being amidst the fight for survival throughout the station, Eridanus narrowed his eyes as he studied the shields. His mind was confused, but he had been gradually reorienting himself. Recalling his observations from earlier, and now from the skinny man's tasking, he put two and two together, realizing that it was quite possible that this man was the only person preventing the rest of them from asphyxiating.

He came closer to the man, hearing the increasing conviction in the man's muttering. Aquiras and Priskil. His heart warmed at the thought of a fellow follower, and his direction was instantly decided.

Placing a warm hand on the man's shoulders gently, Eridanus reassured him, "Let me help."

The shields were getting weaker, as were the djed being extruded, and Eridanus quickly went to work. He was familiar somewhat with multiple person shielding, and since the man already had the infrastructure in place, he merely had to supply the djed to reinforce the man's shields and to keep him from overgiving.

That meant that he did not have to enter into deep meditation like the shielder, and so could focus on other tasks such as preventing the two of them from sudden attacks. He began drawing the djed from his body, identifying the transfer channels by which the man used to construct the shields, and supplied his djed appropriately. Basically, as the man extracted his own djed, Eridanus would add his own substantial amount of fresh djed which would then be all shaped and tasked together by the mage.

Additionally, the ethaefal kept an awareness around the two of them in a guarded manner, while tweaking the shields themselves. It was a technique he developed back in Zeltiva University - the integration of glyphs into shields in a wholesome and holistic manner by using the very djed threads that formed the shields.

Fingers moving at a whirring pace, Eridanus proceeded to add glyphs to their collaborative shields, using the very astral fabric of the shields to create the arcane sigils. The glyphs were meant to enhance the shield's duration, a desperate attempt to draw out the barrier's longevity and to keep the shields' duration optimized as much as his glyphing abilities could confer.

by **Bob Barton** on April 26th, 2012, 5:32 am

Another time when Bob was not under the effects of the ooze, he definitely would not be doing things like this. Being in a dangerous situation, facing opponents which outnumber him, going against women instead of going for them. Then again maybe the ooze was good in helping him to go through with the mental commands. The rage and increased strength he felt oozing through him just made it so...was that an arrow that whizzed past by him? Oh that made him even more angry, angry enough to "smash...you...ALL!" since they were nothing more than puny women.

He already knew how easy it was to take one down with a block of ice and now? Now he had his sword out of the cane. There was no need to rely on the element of surprise since he had power! Even if the konti had two weapons and looked more distanced from the pair, Bob ignored her because she did not attack him...yet and she did not offer herself right in front of him. While he could not plan too much in his state, the crazed man still knew that he did not want to get hit. Whichever came first by the looks of it and Bob was looking really hard especially at the bow. He only needed to dodge the shot on his way to his goal and once he got close enough there would only be the sword to worry about unless the women were not as close as they appear to be.

No better time to put that theory into the test with a charge. Always on the watch for another arrow until it was time to swing his sword? Was he supposed to kill them or...he remembered! Not that Bob does not kill but he was supposed to take the pregnant ones into the pool. That stopped Bob right after a few steps as he looked for a bloated stomach among the trio and found none but the konti told him everything he wanted already as he recalled. Wasting no time to think about her 'help' Bob charged again.

Now the idea changed. Even if he was still going to try his best to avoid the oncoming arrows, the sword cannot be used to strike. But he still could use it to parry and if he does...he would just need to continue charging and try to push his pregnant target with him into some of the ooze behind her.

by **Kamalia Timandre** on June 1st, 2012, 8:16 am

A jolt of unpleasant energy shot up her arm after threatening the Pathfinder, and Kamalia flinched at the pain. The cedar staff shifted in her grasp, as if protesting at the imbecility of her actions. It was utter foolishness to negotiate with a piece of wood. She quietly cursed the staff, herself for her idiocy, and Sagallius for being the artifact’s former master.

The sorceress fastened her eyes upon the human maleDarik once again, her lips curved into a slight smile this time. But there was something foreboding, something menacing in the way she stared down at him. “It is unwise to fall out of my good graces, human,” she said serenely, as if she were gently cautioning a child for being too adventurist. “Lay a finger, and see what your sins are worth,” she sang, not seeing a need to veil her threat.

She turned to the BenshiraFaroul, and for a long moment, the Konti appeared to be weighing him on unseen scales. Despite his veils, there was an uncanny strength and calm determination in those grey eyes. She could tell that he was slender—no, scrawny— even with the thick robes he wore, yet he strode with a phantom-like grace, and not the ungainliness of a boy. Kamalia’s unruffled composure did not change when she faced him coolly, “We are aware. Stand away from its corruption, and those tainted by it. The more bodies the Ravarisk claims, the smaller our chance to survive. If you wish to lend us a hand, stand vigil with your blade and let nothing harm us,” she said placidly, calm eyes shifting to Hadrian, who was focused on casting heavily taxing magicks. “And pray—pray to whatever god you think will hear your prayers.”

Then, she was approached by a creature of lunar beauty, an EthaefalEridanus displaced and lost among the stars, to ask her a question. But if the Lethborn were to study her closely, the seer too was just as lost. “I do not know, moonchild. Is it fate or is it chance that brought all of us here, hurtled into darkness and chaos? I cannot know and I cannot decide,” Kamalia said, half to herself and with a distant look in her eyes. “I feel the threads of fate weave themselves around us, but is it Lhex’s hand that sets the warp? Is it his hand that controls the shuttle?” It was impossible to discern whether she was wise or mad, a seer or a lunatic—or both. “But this I know, we stand upon a brink of a precipice. Thus the towers weep. Weep too, if you have a heart, for those who shall perish tonight,” she said, her eyes burning into his for a moment before she turned away.

“I will not be one of them. I shall not allow death to affect my course,” she proclaimed, and then flung her arms skyward, holding the staff high with both hands. Marshaling all her wizardly training, she closed her eyes and shut the sounds of disorder and despair, channeling djed through the cedar shaft, in her resolve to become the Pathfinder’s new master.

by **Istril** on June 13th, 2012, 4:39 pm

Istril delivered blow after blow into the body of the enraged man, watching as flesh and bone alike collapsed under her assault. Yet, despite her vicious assault, the man still drew breath, and still fought back. He squirmed under her grasp, wriggling like a worm in the grasp of a bird. Despite the fact he continued to fight back, Istril felt no fear. His mind had likely been too corrupted by the liquid to process pain. That did not mean, however, that he was invulnerable. He would still die like any other man.

This view rapidly changed the moment his hands wrapped around her throat. She felt the pressure of his fingers on her trachea, and instinctively tried to gasp for a breath that was not there. A twinge of fear crawled into her mind. She couldn't breathe. He wasn't dying. Suddenly, a time limit had been imposed on their brawl. She either had to finish the beggar before she blacked out, or risk never seeing Mizahar again. Despite knowing that there would be no more air coming, her hungry lungs continued to beg for air. Soon enough, she felt a burning inside of her chest as she continued to rain down ineffectual shots on the beggar.

She had to free herself from his grasp or finish him. It was the only way. Drawing back her right arm-- the Izurdin-blessed one-- Istril drove it into the right elbow of her assailant, hoping to break it with her superior strength, and thus prevent the attacker from exerting all of his force on her neck. If the first blow failed to break it, she drew her arm back again, and released another series of ferocious blows into the joint until it did break.

With her airway hopefully ever so slightly less obstructed now, Istril flung her right arm-- not the fist, as such a blow would require an awkward angle that would reduce the force she could deliver-- into the remaining elbow, hoping to break it as she had the first. After all, her life depended on it.

by **Tarot** on September 11th, 2012, 9:04 pm

Perhaps it is time to recapitulate. The last we saw our friends, the ones we love to love and the ones we love to hate, they were facing an ancient evil called Ravarisk bent on breaking through the Platform, a power structure orbiting around Mizahar that makes it possible for the Watchtowers to function. As with all Relics, the powers of the Ravarisk were strange and mysterious indeed. Made of some crimson fluid, the creature was said to have been born from the ink with which Qalaya first wrote the history of the world. Was it truth? Was it fiction, the kind you threaten a child with when they exceed their allotted naughtiness? It is not known. Suffice to say, the Ravarisk was real. Chased away from the surface of Mizahar, it had taken to the skies. Now, it was dying and it needed energy to continue its lifecycle. The Platform could provide that, but at the cost of the god Aquiras' life.

Unbeknownst to all participants, they had been randomly abducted by the Watchtowers themselves to prevent this dreadful scenario. In doing so, however, the system had gifted the Ravarisk with something even better than just divine energy. Divine energy AND the womb of a pregnant woman in which to take root. The woman's name was Sira and she carried the means of its rebirth into something... more. As such, the Ravarisk unleashed the full extent of its powers to break through the magical protection of the Platform. It began infecting the helpless prisoners with its own foul substance, a gift and a curse. Merely touching the growing pools of ooze caused a frenzy of heightened power and instinct. The Ravarisk had been a formidable foe once. Despite being a shell of its former self, it was more than a match for a band of adventurers.

Cassandra Coven was among the first to be infected. When the Black Sun grunt called Tatishka charged her for no reason other than to spill some blood, Cassandra reacted with frightening speed. Of course, there was a catch - there was always a catch. The poor lass was literally burning through her lifespan, but right now all she felt was power and desire. She easily dodged her opponent's swing and redirected her on the path of the incoming fireball from her own ally. The impact was horrible to behold, with the bulky woman getting engulfed in a pyre that consumed her muscle and revealed the bone within moments. Tatishka screamed, but even in death she would not relent. She managed to grab Cassandra's wrist and tried to enclose her in a lethal embrace of fire that would consume them both.

She was one of Rhysol. They took their mission seriously.

But it was only an instant before the young woman snaked out of her grasp and sent the Black Sun sprawling to combust. Tatishka never rose again. Cassandra's onslaught continued as she had a brief confrontation with the Konti, Satu, but an arrow by Aidara and a block of ice thrown by Bob gave her pause. Damage was piling up for the Ravokian, thus showing the cruelty of the Ravarisk that would use up its minions until they were burnt to a cinder. Survival was its only purpose. Yet the killer instinct did not subside, and Cassandra felt little to no pain. Would she really self-destruct for this creature? She could easily see how hopeless it was for her...

Until she glimpsed back and saw reinforcements coming. The infected had decided to ignore the rest of the assembled humanity and were joining the struggle against Sira and Aidara. All eighteen of them. Led by Bob Barton. They would be on the duo in twenty seconds. Istril found herself near the two women after dispatching her assailant with a bone-cracking combination of blows from her Isurian arm. Still, twenty versus three (five if you counted Ariel and Satu, but what were they up to?) did not bode well.

Kamalia, Hadrian and Eridanus were working feverishly on maintaining the outer barrier that was keeping their precious air in. The Ethaefal's efforts helped the exhausted Hadrian... for the time being. The Ravarisk was probably not risking a new attack on the barrier with its precious womb on the line, but the situation was way too fluid for predictions. Kamalia was being very selfish, ignoring the struggle to work on her staff, Pathfinder. And the staff seemed to like that. Little by little she could feel it yield to her will, becoming her in a way.

One of the four sculpted figures emitted a tiny beam of light. It shot out from the pointed finger and lost itself in the immensity of space between the Platform and Mizahar, somewhere near the Eyktoli desert if Kamalia knew any geography at all.

As for Talen Stirling, he charged the remaining Black Sun. "Take care of that shyke,", the leader handwaved, leaving it to his two subordinates, the huge warrior and the lanky old wizard. He himself stepped away from the fray as the three collided. The Black Sun were highly trained, but Tatishka's experience had taught them not to take lightly the effects of the red ooze on the human body. They would not be underestimating Talen. As he clashed swords with the huge man, the wizard began forming a new fireball - ever bigger than the last.

Someone prayed to Priskil - like Hadrian who prayed to everyone, and others. It may have been coincidence, or the fickle mood of Lhex who weaves the threads of fate, but right when the situation seemed impossibly dire for our friends, a blinding light flashed in the middle of the Platform. It only shone for an instant, but as it faded away, three people were standing in the very middle of the circle.

Glowing softly.

There was a human woman, armed and armored, dark-haired with a quick, businesslike attitude. She was the one who glowed strongest of all. To her left was the lithe figure of a young woman who was not breathing. Her name was Jilitse, her story had begun in old Alahea. To the female warrior's right, was a mighty Akalak, a Syliran Knight by the name Xalet.

"Holy shyke..." the central female said, looking to be the leader of the trio. As they stepped on the Platform, all the glyphs embedded on its surface began to pulsate and glow. An androgynous voice emerged from the structure itself and spoke in a language everyone could understand.

***Welcome to the Platform, Masters. Awaiting your orders.***

The woman was about to reply, but of course it couldn't be that easy. The leader of the Black Sun quartet stepped out in a defiant pose, right in front of the three marked of Priskil.

"Look what we've got here," he said cruelly, eyes white like only the second mark of Rhysol could bring about, "if this isn't Weliardina Allon, priestess of Priskil. There's a hefty bounty on your head in Ravok. Finally some old-fashioned action worthy of my blade..." and he swung said blade in the air, approaching the trio with measured steps.

Oh, and Niapret was flying around.

OOC: I am so very sorry for dropping you like that. A recurring theme with Tarot is that he takes forever to do things, but if you stick around he eventually gets to you. I had to simplify things a bit in the interest of rekindling this thread, which really deserves to be finished. A few more posts should do it.

by **Sira** on September 12th, 2012, 7:48 pm

Everything was going downhill. Yes, they had managed to deal with the madwoman, but there was an army of crazed people on the way. Yes, they were still alive, but the cracks in the barrier wouldn't hold for long. The Ravarisk wanted her child, but Sira wasn't willing to give it up. She would die before that happened. Sira looked to her companions, the strange konti and her love, Aidara. There was nothing they could do against the horde that was approaching. They might be able to kill a few, but in the end, they would not make it.

And then there was a pillar of light, and three glowing figures appeared. Sira didn't recognize any of them, but she could only assume that the one in the middle was the goddess she had been praying for. Or at the very least, they had been sent by the goddess. They were glowing! That had to mean something special, didn't it? Unfortunately she could not think about it for long, with the oncoming horde.

"Everybody get back," Sira shouted as she quickly kicked off her boots and tossed her sword to the ground. She didn't have much time, so she only removed the things that wouldn't easily tear away when she shifted, then she ran forward to meet the horde. They wouldn't hurt her, she realized, but they wouldn't expect what she had planned. Before Addy, the konti, or anyone else could stop her she ran right into the arms of the enemy.

This is going to hurt, she thought as the maddened ones surrounded her, right before she shifted. And it did hurt. Suddenly where there was only a woman, ooze infected people pressing in on her, the space was displaced by a massive wind eagle in the span of an instant. The sparkling cloud concealed her for only a second, but her shift and her sudden increase in size sent people flying. Some of them might hold on, but it wouldn't be an easy thing.

Sira spread her wings, lashed out with her talons and beak, and attempted to clear as many of the Ravarisk’s minions as she could before she turned and ran toward Aidara and the others. She doubted she had seriously injured any of them, but it would hopefully give her enough time.

Grab hold, hurry! We're going to Priskil!

Sira waited only long enough for Aidara to get herself situated either on her back, or holding on to her talons, or whatever the healer decided to do. That meant if anyone else was going to hitch a ride, they needed to do it quickly, because as soon as Addy was ready Sira beat her wings and took to the sky. Hopefully she didn't have any ooze-people hitching a ride with her, but she didn't have time to think about that. It was going to be a short ride, and as soon as she reached the place where the woman she hoped was Priskil and her allies were fighting with the Chaon. Hoping Aidara still had her bow, and that she was in a position to use it, Sira mentally shouted to the healer.

Quick! Help Priskil!

OOCIf I need to edit anything, let me know.

Quest II. The night the towers cried [open]