Completed [Seasonal Quest] Upon a Star (Open)

[Iliana]

30th of Winter, 511 AV With a yawn Iliana stretched out on her bed, having only just woken up. Slowly she sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes, yawning once more. Shifting the covers off of her she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching her arms high over her head, almost bending backwards. She then began preparing for her day. First came her hair. From her bag Iliana produced a simple comb, which she ran through the blond strands until the tangles were all worked out. Then came other ready making activities, including face washing, dressing in her performance gear, and hair arrangement. Finally satisfied Iliana smiled and and went to the door to her room just as Miro was leaving his own. She could hear the "Thump... thump" of his staff as he made his way through the house. Curious as to why Miro was up so early Iliana quickly slipped through the door and followed after Miro into the street. Waving a hand over her head she rushed to catch up, "Miro! Wait for me!" Iliana quickly skipped up to Miro's side, "Where are you going?"

[Fallacy]

29th Winter, 511 AV Nothing of more interest happened on that night besides that mysterious light. The ants of people who made up Alvadas could scurry around all they like, but find nothing out of the ordinary, ordinary being a rather useless term in Alvadas. The people will have their night of rest, after the strange and bright light, before the real fun begins on the 30th. 30th Winter, 511 AV An explosion rocked Alvadas, a pillar of fire fleeing up to the sky, and a black cloud engulfing part of Alvadas as a building fell. The impact of the explosion, magic or not, shook Alvadas to the very core and woke all the sleeping inhabitants up. There was confusion as the cloud could be easily seen anywhere in the city, slowly falling to Mizahar, spreading across the city of Illusion. The target? Well it was a personal attack on Ionu, the temple dedicated to him suffered the explosion, along with the aftermath. First people came out, there was confusion and then panic as another explosion rocked Alvadas. This time targeting the Colosseum. All of Alvadas shook under the might of the fire and brimstone, under the flying rubble, but most importantly in fear. Pieces of rock crashed through homes, and destroyed the streets…. OOCTime to wake up all those who slept on the 29th Okana’s Tent Location Link The tattered and well-established tent of the infamous seer Okana rested just before the Colosseum this early morning, or at least for now. Alvadas is known for the ever-shifting streets and buildings and wonders within. Though the seer held none of the wonders of Alvadas, she provided just as important service as awe. She was a fortune teller, a soothseer, a reader of the past and predictor of the present. She provided answers to those who ask, and adjusted her rates according to the person who walks in. Her tent wasn’t busy, but sometimes she would get a rather interesting costumer, and today was one of those days. The Konti woman was busy staring into a plate of water, looking into just what happened last night, the flash. She has already been bombarded with questions as to what that was, and with each reviewing of the event through the persons Chavi revealed no clues, no answers. She was stumped, and all she could do was give warning and charge a silver miza for her time. Though, she did ask one customer if she could keep the scarf that he so readily let her use in the divination process so she could review it again, and again. He agreed and went off, this time Okana paying him for the expense of the cloth. Hunched over the small plate of water she used to concentrate, to focus on when divining, she barely looked up when she heard someone enter her tent. A few more breathes and she was finished seeing the event again. How odd, the flash of light. She wondered why it happened, but then again, this is Alvadas. Taking a moment to gather herself she stayed in the hunched over position, her long white hair falling over her head shielding her vision somewhat from the dull sun light that entered her tent. The konti sat on a simple rug and once collected looked up, and smiled, ”Hello, again. To what do I owe this pleasure, Drysalla?” Sitting across from the seer was none other than Drysalla Everheart. Her supernatural beauty granted by a small wish, the woman wore elaborate colors, different shades of green, from her dress to her necklace to her earrings. The woman addressed as Drysalla looked pale, but it seemed to compliment her dark green eyes. She was, oh so long ago, the picture of beauty. ”Tell me,” Drysalla started, ”Tell me again what you told me thirty years ago in this cursed place.” A small smile appeared on Okana’s face, ”Thirty years ago was quite a while.” she mused the idea, ”but, I told you what would come of you when you used the mirror simply based on past impressions and… human nature. I gave you a warning and you chose to ignore it.” she stated simply, ”I gave you…” ”You doomed me.” Drysalla yelled, cutting the konti off, not quite understanding the art of divination or the powers the konti possessed. She so readily jumped to the conclusion that the konti, just because she gave a warning, made the events she foretold happen. ”Now,” she lowered her voice, ”I want you to again tell me my future.” she smiled, ”I want you to tell me what is going to happen to Alvadas when I am through with it. I want you to run through the streets like madman warning everyone about what you predict.” she took a breath and was about to continue on, but was cut off. ”Your chavi was severed a long time ago.” she stated, ”You died, and you currently don’t possess chavi. Why is that?” she asked, ”It is because, right now, you don’t exist.” she told her, ”You don’t exist.” she repeated, ”How can I read something that does not exist, but only breathes within the city of illusion upon…” she stopped and laughed, ”That light. I knew I’ve seen it before.” ”What do you mean I don’t exist?” the green clad woman spat at the seer, ”I’m standing right in front of you.” She yelled, ”You have no authority to say what does and does not exist.” she told her standing up, ”You will see. This is just the beginning. I have powers you cannot begin to comprehend. The only reason you are not dead yet is because I want you to see for yourself the error of your ways.” With that ominous note she left the tent, walking fast in rage. As she left the sound of a giant bang, an explosion somewhere, occurred, and all of Alvadas trembled under her feet. Verlyna’s Emerald Pond Location Link Stepping out of the waters of pool the woman laughed, ”Gods, it is good to be back.” she twirled around a little and danced giggling, ignoring the dog and his growing barking. Only seeming to get slightly annoyed with it after a while she stopped, and cocked her head at the dog, ”Now.” she looked at the both of them, the dog and the human, ”That isn’t very nice. You” she looked at Kale, ”Could you silence your dog please?” she asked, her voice laced with the poisonous magic of hypnotism, embedding her suggestion into Kale as she said it, planting the thought into his subconscious trying to get him to agree with her. She smiled and stepped closer, red silk falling over body water no longer gracing her skin, covering her once nude form, ”I am no threat.” she stated, bending down, ”to such a handsome animal like yourself.” she extended her hand towards Almech, words laced with the mind-numbing djed as a thought was pushed into their minds I can trust her; she is nice, in their own voice. Perhaps they would confuse it for their own. ”Can I pet you?” she asked the dog, forcing the thought yes into the animals mind. She asked the questions to make them feel like they are still in control of their own actions, while silently manipulating their thoughts with her hypnosis. Hypnotism was something she was renowned for, famous, and her skill with the craft showed. ”What are your names?” she looked up at Kale, smiling at him still crouched down waiting for the wolf to respond to her, ”Because this is a beautiful dog you have.” she complimented the two of them, ”You sure must treat it right.” she told him, trying to make a good impression on the two of them. The more they trusted her, the more easily she could manipulate them. The question was, what all did they see? What happened? was the next thought pushed into Kales mind, What is happening? was the next. Both trying their best to ensue doubt upon the human into what actually happened, trying to get him to review the situation, the past events, and come to a conclusion. I can trust her. again popped into his mind, another attempt at manipulation, controlling his thoughts. If she could dominate his thoughts with her own, keep him busy enough not to draw any hasty conclusions, then she could manipulate them like puppets. Or manipulate him; the dog could be manipulated with the human, obviously sharing a master and pet relationship. Though even the best hypnotists have to be cautious to not overdue it. The next couple moments would see if her suggestions were too outright blunt. She laughed inwardly. It has been a while since she has used hypnosis. A long while. So it was understandable if she was a little rusty. She took a breath and silently told herself to slow down, and focus on coaxing the mind instead of trying to dominate it. She needed to focus and get back into her game. She grinned as she felt the very city shake under her feet. Their rise has begun. Towers Idol Slanderer Location Link ”Heh, your cock may be made of flesh, but mine is still bigger. Surprising since I don’t have one, you woman.” The Slanderer sneered ”Your whole life is a lie. You are deluded, and bound to fail. So not only do you have a small pecker, but you are so absorbed in yourself that you are defeating your own purpose. The best and most enjoyable thing to see will be watching your descent as you fight against yourself; going nowhere.” The Slanderer continued on with his rant, going from point to point trying to humiliate the barbarian. ”And what are all of you doing, standing there like pathetic ants watching their queen piss. All of you are worthless, waste of time, no good bigots” The statue went on doing as it was programmed. ”All of you should just dig your own graves and lay in it.” the statue announced, ”because you are not worth the space you take up in this world.” It continued on with similar remarks about how they all should die and how much it totally would not care. It was then a rock wizzed through the air aiming for Ulrics skull. If it was successful in hitting it would leave a pretty deep gash. Perfect time to attack because the barbarian was busy with his willy, pissing on the freaken statue. Then another came soaring through the air aimed at the ogre of a man, sharp pointed black stone. The source, if the party would look, would be a mechanical man, made of steel and gears, animated in such a way that it can hurl rocks. The shine of the rising sun reflected off the being, and then another and another rock came cruising at the group, no longer just aimed at ulric, but the entire group. Metal men, contraptions of gadgeteering and animation, masterfully crafted, not so masterfully animated. Their movements were stiff, and their limbs not too flexible. ”You!” a voice come out from behind one metal man, who were working on surrounding the group, ”What in the divines name do you think you are doing to my statue?” he asked, a smaller man, mouse-like with glasses came out from behind the animated golems. His brown hair working its way around his head, the very top of his noggin was hairless and shiny. The clothes he wore were a simple brown vest, over a black shirt, with some tanned trousers. Nothing too extravagant. That was Andres Towers, creator of the Slanderer, and apparently the small army of golems that accompanied him. ”And you fools!” he looked at the others gathered there, ”Just letting him soil a perfectly good work of art. All of you sicken me and disgrace what it means to be an artist.” he said, more metal men slowly gathering around the group, some armed with more than rocks, but crossbows and some even had swords, not that they could swing fast, but all they needed to do was stab… The golems seemed to be waiting, standing at attention until given an order. Even the Slanderer shut up, ”Art has many meanings.” he said turning his back on the crew, ”And your deaths will be a masterpiece.” he said waving a hand, and the golems moved again, throwing rocks, the ones with crossbows aimed and let loose, and the golems with swords slowly advanced the tips of the blades pointing out. They couldn’t slash, no, but all they needed was to back the people up against a wall so they could skewer them. The man would stop at a good distance and turn to watch the show. Death is the most beautiful piece of art there is. He laughed a little as Alvadas shook violently under him, seizing and tremoring. His golems have done well for themselves. OOCI didn’t say if the attacks hit or who was being targeted. Just have fun with it the first round and next Monday we will see what happens There are only about 14 or so Golems there Miro and Iliana The colossium would appear to Miro just as Iliana called for him to wait up. The site of the Colosseum intact only a moment later to be engulfed in a searing ball of fire, followed by a loud and ground shaking boom. The two being near enough to the Colosseum to be shook off their feet if they were not steady, and for rocks and shrapnel to fly their way, bits of stone, searing hot from the explosion falling all around them. The dust, oh yes, the dust that came from the blast started to descend upon them, covering most of the area around the Colosseum in a thick fog-like, cough inducing cloud. The dust that fell upon the land stayed for several moments and it was hard to see, the air distilled with what was chaos, but something else too. A magical presence. A field of Djed that projected form someone, it was another wizard that was for sure. Steps could be heard from the distance, in the direction of the Colosseum, ”My, my” a voice called out, stopping, ”This made quite a mess.” a dark outline of a figure could be seen vaguely in the dust. With a wave of an arm the dust parted from the figure to Miro and Illiana, leaving them in a small circle where they could see each other. Green was color of the fabric worn, and the figure possessing supernatural beauty came into sight. It was none other than Drysalla. She smiled, ”What do we have here?” she crossed her arms her voice tinted with anger, ”Do I look real to you?” she asked, taking a step towards Miro ”Do I feel real?” her hand reached for Miros trying to bring his to her heart, so he could feel it beating. It’s amazing how complete Illusions can be. ”What about you?” she looked towards Iliana, ”Am I real?” she asked laughing, ”Was that explosion real? Is this city real? What is real?” she laughed a little more backing up, ”Is this real?” she asked extending an arm out and the cloud that surrounded them, in fact, the entire Colosseum and Alvadas was gone, ”Or is this an Illuiosn?” her voice sounding desperate as the place the two found themselves in now was… If they would look down they would see that they are actually hundreds of feet above Alvadas, and all in a blink of an eye. The entire city could be seen, along with the fires and smoldering remains of the two buildings that were blown up. She laughed again, her voice sounding more crazy as she went on, ”Is Alvadas REAL?” she yelled but she couldn’t keep a straight face and continued laughing, ”Is death real? she asked, ”What is reality?” she paused and looked at them, ”are you ready to find out?” with that she lowered her arm and the two fell. ”Tell me if that is real.” she yelled down, her voice following them. Just before they would hit the streets of Alvadas the two would find themselves on their knees in front of Drysalla, ”Was that real? she asked them with a smile. Eridanus and Ihnar The silence and peace of the darkness was broke by dawns first light. With dawns light however came the explosions that shook the city. Ihnar would soon find sight of Eridanus, and be able to catch up him. The city wasn’t as cruel to keep them apart. The city of illusions could be quite accommodating if you have a goal in mind. Though accommodating and safe were two different things, especially in times like this. The ground still shaking the two would come upon the Asylum in the distance. Though between the building and the couple were more of the metal golems crafted by Andres Towers. Turning towards Eridanus they began to advance, their swords brandished, pointed at the Ethaefal. OOCThere are only about 6 golems between you and the Asylum. Feel free to have fun with this encounter. There will be more… Oh, lots more OOC : Hey there. Sorry this is a day late. I was being ‘nice’ and waited for everyone to join who wanted to. Wow, I must say that this is a lot of people. Going to be both interesting and fun to see how I handle this as a moderator. I tried putting you into groups, as you have so nicely ordered yourselves in your intro. All those who posted on the 29th and are sleeping the 30th post is for you! Please finish up all RP on the 29th so we can get to the quest on the 30th. You get a nice big boom as a wakeup call. Congratulations, you all made me blow something up. If anyone feels left out with this post, please, feel free to contact me so we can discuss it. I’ll give you more ‘NPC attention’ Oh, and remember all of you joined out of your free will. I warned you this was going to be a dangerous quest. It only gets more dangerous from here on out. The locations will be restored! You can RP there.

[Nyahna Sasin]

30th of Winter, 511 AV

He was woken by the whump of a collapsing building. Seasons of living on edge, never knowing if the knights were going to burst in and arrest him served him well, and he immediately leapt up, grabbing for the knife he always kept by his side. Hearing people screaming outside, he rushed to the window, and hissed. He could smell smoke, but more importantly, he could taste it. He could taste ashes in the air. He could see nothing, as the Den had apparently moved to the corner of the city in the night, but he didn't need to see to know there was trouble.

Grabbing his other knife, he dashed downstairs, not bothering to pull on a shirt, and out into complete and utter chaos.

Smoke and fire and ash and black and fear and blood and sweat and oh gods it was all a mess. People shoved past, screaming in panic and for a single instant he wondered if this was what the Valaterrian had been like. A jet of fire shot up into the sky before dissipating, and rubble was crashing down around him. Smoke was rising from two different places in the city, and he made his way towards the closest one, shoving past people.

As he grew closer, he realized exactly what had been hit. "Petch!" He snarled, standing before the smoking temple. Whoever had done this was powerful, perhaps even another god. He hesitated, then made his way into the temple.

This was not going to be fun.

[Zlakalia]

oocJoined late by Fallacy's permission :3 29th of Winter, 511AV, 22nd Bell The light that shattered the darkness was impeccably bright. Daylight, if only for an instant, rained down upon the heads of those awake enough to see it, it seemed. Many wondered what was going on, what illusion of wrath caused such a spectacle. But Zlakalia was not one of these. She was not roused by any such light. She remained sleeping. 30th of Winter, 511AV, 6th Bell And stayed sleeping she would have remained, were it not for the bang, the explosion, the yelling, and the light. Streamed down onto her face, now wide awake but blinded by it, Zlakalia quickly pulled herself from the pile of straw under her table to look around. The noises were a lot louder now, people screaming and clatter coming from just outside. Zlakalia blinked several times, her eyes coming to grips with reality again, her mind quickly finding itself freed from the grasps of sleep. And as Zlakalia took some shaky steps towards her windows, hoping to climb up and see what was beyond, she had a strange thought. 'What light?' Zlakalia turned, her eyes widening in horror as she realized the source of the light that woke her. From the east a huge hole had found itself torn in her wall! Sunlight, the start of the day, streamed in. Zlakalia followed the light's path with her eyes, slowly, almost in slow motion from the horror that befell her. For the smoldering stone had found itself forced through her wall and into her table, smashing her works of art, the many statues of herself and filled her tiny room. "Nooo!" Zlakalia rushed up to the melted and skewed portraits of herself, her legs lurching over the splintered wood and remains of her table and her hands desperately clutching at clay and trying to push it back together. Pieces of her wet sculptures were scattered around, a hand here and a tendril here. It was a travesty! Zlakalia felt the rage rising, an uncontrollable force, an immovable object. She grabbed the knife from her bed, her hand knowing the same place she kept it beneath the hay. She felt the cool steel and turned towards the door. Someone would pay for this. Once outside Zlakalia quickly squinted her eyes at the bright sunlight, her door closing behind her and locking from the mechanism only last month she had installed. The city streets were chaos. Bits of stone and architecture were scattered here and there, blown free from the remains of the Colosseum Zlakalia could see close nearby. Zlakalia spotted the green dressed woman, silhouetted by the destruction and being worshipped by two other big folk. She didn't recognize Miro at this distance, and she wouldn't have recognized the girl (Iliana). But her blade was begging for revenge and these three were the only ones with wanton indifference to the chaos and destruction around her. They were responsible.

[Alric Wilmot]

30th day of Winter. 511 AV Alric awoke with a sharp pain on his brow. He rose not from his bed, but on the well-swept floor of his house. He brought up his hand to the center of his pain, and found that he was bleeding. Had he fallen out of bed? Most curious, he had never done that before. Why would he now? The answer to this question, came in the form of a cacophonous chorus of screams. Alric quickly realized that something was happening outside, and it was in his best interest to find out what exactly that was. He quickly tore a strip of cloth from his sheets and tied it around his forehead in order to slow the bleeding. He had no skill in healing, and so was unaware of the need to disinfect the wound. He quickly dressed and placed his half mask upon his face, partially obscuring the make-shift bandages. He hurried out of his hovel of a home without bothering about such insignificant things as washing and eating. And as he emerged, he found that truly was the wisest choice. From the grounds of the Wilmot Manor, he spotted several ruined buildings surrounding his own. Rubble, debris, and even scatterings of fire surrounded the estate. Alric quickly turned on his heel to face the main Manor, a sigh of relief escaping him as he saw that it was largely intact. However, that sigh transformed into a gasp half-way through. Behind the Manor, Alric saw an enormous pillar of black smoke. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Beyond things he had even read about. For the first time in months, Alric was glad that his father was out of the city. Alric glanced about, surveying strangers run to and fro searching for loved ones. Although Alric had no Family, he had made friends these past months. He decided it would be most prudent to find them as soon as possible. Whatever was happening, Alric was sure that surviving it was best done in groups. Alric dashed out onto the streets of Alvadas dodging his fellow citizens as he began to look for one "Miro".

[Ryce]

Ryce found certain warmth in the mystical ladies kind words, and with her peaceful demeanor continuing it rapidly filled him with rage towards the snarling dog. It was becoming rather the annoyance, and he thought to himself how pathetic the dog should feel protecting his, rather large, human from such a lady. Ryce played with the thought that the dog might have reason unknown to himself, in fact he had actually only crept up after the dog had already began his attempt to discourage her from advancing. However, there wasn't a feasible thought that would lead him to believe this to be true especially with her last few actions, Ryce decided to dismiss the seemingly irrational idea. As Ryce was currently viewing the situation; there is a man who is standing behind his dog, as it barked, and snarled at a harmless and defenseless woman. Ryce straightened his hind legs to a stand as his front remained crouched. His tail flicking behind him rhythmically counting and waiting for the best opportunity to attack the dog. He was now determined if the human would not quite his dog as she had asked, then Ryce gladly would. The deep rumble from the ground beneath Ryce was a little unsettling; not knowing what was occurring he sank his claws into the soil. Filled with determination Ryce now didn't dare take his eyes of his newly found enemy.

[Skugga]

A loud noise woke Skugga from her slumber, jolting upright she could feel the ground shake beneath her, her belongings and furniture shook. Just as she rose from the bed another loud explosion followed, this one closer and more violent, Skugga fell back onto her bed grey eyes wide in surprise and wonder. Quickly she bent down and pulled on her boots before pulling on her dress while she headed for the door, only stopping to put her dagger in its place in her right boot. Outside she saw a large pillar of black smoke rise to the sky, it was relatively far off but it almost looked like the Temple of Ionu, but that couldn't be right, why would someone try to blow up that. More interesting who would dare and be able to pull it off? Turning around she tried spotting what had caused the explosions in the first place only to see the coliseum a few blocks away, thick black smoke welled up from within. Like the coliseum the city was half destroyed, debris filled the streets and had crashed into houses. Turning to look at her own small cottage she was glad to see that it had not sustained much damage, but her relief was short lived. Nothing or no one was safe in Alvadas until someone found out what or who caused this. Taking a quick decision Skugga headed down a street that would hopefully take her to the coliseum, it was the closest for her to reach, making it more likely for her to find it in case the city shifted again. Hurrying as much as she could Skugga jumped over stones and dodged crumbling debris, her black her flowing behind her. When she got close she saw three people ahead, a green clad woman who even from the distance seemed extraordinary beautiful, along with two other strangers, a dark haired man and a blonde woman. Skugga knew either of the three but she hoped one of them may know something. Making up her mind Skugga altered her course slightly and hurried over to the trio. "What happened?" Skugga inquired, looking at the three persons in front of her.

[Ulric]

Important NoteYou can't see or hear the Gasvik, so just ignore him.

And yet, as swiftly as it had begun, the rush began to slacken. “I can’t go with you looking,” he grated at the fidgety, azure blur over his shoulder. Desank, you arse.

“Yaiean aeuh.” There was a wrench of angular features, sepia-limned ears seaming back, the lowering of a blunt, ponderous jaw, the jut of a brow and the jerk of curving tusks. Then the squat legs began to unlimber, a shuffle over whorls of thorny, stringy creepers, a sprawl of tawdry rocks. “Juda adufb a feib padnfe, sadu adun agubew at mde dsfone,” gurgled the Gasvik.

“Enough.” The spray resumed.

However, the lapse had given him a chance to speak, and again the bronze scales of insults were broken to foul disarray, leaving only ignominy, a sundering, caving gape in his vengeance. “You’re rather larger than me,” he glared up at the vapidly furling visage, the pale, rounded eyes of granite, and jerked up his spray. Take that, you. “Ever hear of-”

.. Xhyvas .. Dream .. Dead Gods

What?

Ulric began to growl, but the rear of his throat was dry, his bones suffused by an icy sweat. There was a turgid ache at the base of his spine, at the dank, tender junctions of his toes, under the pits of his shoulders. The skeins of his nerves yanked taut, near to breaking. The whisper echoed through his head, unrelenting. He knows. The barbs sank in, spiny fangs pricking deep into his flesh, making him shiver. He knows. The refrain swept through him, somberly fading before the crazy skirl of pipes, as yet again, he sensed the fragment of divine power pulsing in his veins, so many hundreds of years of neglect sloughing away.

Xhyvas was dead, but Ur-Xhyvas was buried among the rankest of monsters, ever desiring to wrest away the lash of cruel fate, to sunder the chains of the broken things, but now…

Now, they knew. And slowly, intensely, caught up in that bleakly fetid labyrinth…

Ur-Xhyvas feared.

“Who are you,” he began to say, turning in a rasp of scales over plate, a creak of leather. Eagerly, he reached for the bearded axe that hung at his hip, torpor fading. The godling’s face was stony, betraying nothing, except for the jet pits of his eyes.

The embers flared.

But then, there just had to be an interloper.

Desank was there, though. Desank was always there, jealously shambling after his brutal, seething shadow, the scuff of his unwavering trek. Desank, ever shifting, never with the same face. Desank, with his long fingers, the red scar of a snarl breaking under his tusks, deftly plucking at the fragment of granite, such that it just bided for a scant, menacing span of time, hung before the brutish, enigmatic brows of Ur-Xhyvas.

Abruptly, he barked a laugh, though the baleful dregs of his confuscation were perturbedly lethargic in their eventual dispersal, enveloped by the heady, pewter-gray fog of his mocking joy.

“Excuse me, you toad-faced fetcher,” Ulric rasped, knuckles pale where the grasped the haft of his axe, just below the spiked, curving head, the nub forged for crushing. Idly, his eyes scoured the ranks of vaguely rusty, foul ranks of automatons, the golems crafted and tinkered to the verge of simulacra, his dark, taking in the swords, the rocks, the tiny, yet brash rodent, high on shreds of a chimerical power, bare pate shining tautly. “Did you just say your statue?”

And yet, the man didn’t take heed.

Fool.

Artists were ever long-winded, tending to a surfeit of hyperbole, for they suffered from a hard, sour, delusion, no kinder than a puddle of stagnant water. They thought that people cared.

Art, when forcibly perused, leads to the furling of a cloak of feigned regard, divulging petty prejudice, and jaded, bereft apathy.

Rage, surging in the depths of his burly chest, coruscating before his eyes, red laced with whorls of jet, a sickly purple, fever-bright. Tracing blunt fingers over his pauldrons, he unslung the broad, circular shield, bearing a tawny covering of leather, and slowly brought it over his elbow, fastening the straps. “Do it,” he grated.

Desank began to quiver, tusks jerking, and then the rock clanged on a cross-braced, bronzed chest, leaving it nary a dent. Golems, he thought, partly ignoring the artist as he took in the lay of plates, strips, and wires. How cunning.

Ulric heard the jerks and creaks, the squeals as they reacted to unspoken orders, as though hinged to the fiendish strings of a puppeteer, and knew that he was facing foes that couldn’t be hurt, just destroyed, for they were just large, deadly suits of armor, the thralls of a foul sorcery, bending under the cants of a mere artist.

But it got worse.

Under him, the rocks trembled, bucking and breaking, abruptly cloven by tracks. Shyke, he cursed, forcing back a stagger. Ulric heard the thump of a vast concussion, swiftly blinking away a flash of bright, winking lights, specks of gravel grating, roofs shaking, shivering, shingles sliding from the roofs to break asunder. There was a tinkle of glass, a groan of crumbling masonry, the whip crack of rended timbers. Shyke, he thought, eyes widening as he regarded the towering flames, the dark, sooty, dread miasma of clouds that sought to engulf the lofty spires.

As ever, the subtly rankling fangs of an inner chaos gnaws at our hearts, forces us into a fiery crucible, a rapture of a whisper.

Ulric began to grin, a rumbling in the depths of his chest, erupting in a low, lustful chuckle, because now, at long last, was a slaughter..

“Witness,” he roared, mostly to the throng, and then, as the puny arm plunged, he knelt, raised his shield to deflect a pair of barbed, iron-fletched quarrels, angling for his face and heart.

“Art? I shyke on your art,” he snarled, jerking up a single finger. “I’m going to cut out your tongue, sever your fingers, gouge out your eyes, and perhaps then, with the last of your choked, redly frothed sobs, you can take solace in my artistry.”

Rising, he charged, legs churning, leaping on the edge of a disused fountain, and then leapt forward, driving his boots into a golem’s chest. The thing, though heavy, gave under the crushing burden, tumbled with a shriek of metal, a rending clang.

Ulric twirled away from the thing’s jerky effort to skewer his ribs, scythed at the blankly leering face, making a deep gouge, and bashed at another, yanking his shield back to knock away another golem’s blade. He deftly hooked at the legs, nearly managed to jerk it off kilter, but for the bulky, bleakly ponderous burden. Bastards, he snarled, flowing past it, lashing out with a scaled elbow, turning yet another blade with the bulwark. He half spun, dancing through the thick of the grating, clumsy golems, clove deeply into the joint of a neck, then again, so that the head flung away.

“Witness, you shyke,” he snarled, his eyes fiery, husky with an infernal rapture.

Ulric spun, the rim of his shield striking a probing sword’s rigidly curving edge with such brutality that it bent nearly in half, hacking at a shoulder joint, biting an elbow joint on the backswing, and then, deflecting cuts from side and rear, crushing down on the back of a knee, so yet another golem went to the ground, badly crippled. The godling sought to break, to crush the jerky simulacra, slingers of rocks to hasty disrepair, and most surely, to get to the artist, for he had to be giving the orders.

He fought with a swift, deadly grace, every strike precise, moving with a stark fluidity. He’d been forged in anger, quenched in despair. He’d been a god. And now, he met the cold, steely jerks of the golems, breaking them with an implacable savagery, a masterwork of brutality, weaving an artistry that was greater than anything the golems could creak at, that the animator dared expel with his foul djed.

The Gasvik had leapt on a golem, and was now yanking at the thing’s ugly face. He spun so the legs went awry, tangling badly, and then rode it as it plunged, rasping to the rocks, a squeal and a clang.

By now, only a few instants had elapsed.

Raggedly grinning, barely breathing hard, the godling scythed at a stolid face, lashed out at an elbow, sundering the wires, tearing it away. The edge of a sword scraped, just scantly, over his side, gouging at the plate, nearly making him stagger. He just spun around, struck the golem’s face with the rim of his shield, was already hewing at a joint as it made a brutal crunch.

They were as nothing.

Or not.

They were too many. They would not relent. They just kept coming, and though he kept trying to go for the joints, trying to break their sheer capacity to swing a blade, to hurl rocks, he was felt the swift, hot flush of anger creep up his neck.

They didn’t flop redly, they didn’t cry, they didn’t scream, they didn’t clutch at the bulging, purple coils of their guts. They didn’t have wives. They didn’t care.

This wasn’t even fun.

By now, his eyes were fiery coals, and he lunged through the press of legs, of cold, unfeeling, undying chests, reaching out, trying to bash the puny, crazed animator, right at the juncture of his insipid eyebrows.

To put an end to his lunacy.

“Art, it’s just rocks and rust, and faded parchments that smolder in an instant,” he growled. “You want to leave it behind? You imagine you’re not just a fly stuck in a web? You pretend you’re not a speck of dust?”

“Art is a dream. And then you die.”

[Almech]

The woman approached them, it was quite odd as she spoke, "Could you silence your dog please?" it was oddly soothing, soothing enough to imply that Kale owned Almech without any retaliation from the canine. He was fixated on her as she approached, he was still growling, but not as severely, he blinked a few times as he peared at her nude form, he'd never seen a naked women before and was even more amazed when the red silk replaced the water that dripped from her skin. "I am no thread to a handsome animal like yourself" this calmed him as he watched her hand extend towards him, he was comforted by the woman, he didn't know why, but he liked her "Can i pet you?". His gut told him no, and no again, then suddenly, the feeling in his gut was gone, and he nuzzled into her as her hand caressed the top of his head, then scratched the back of his neck, his eyes squinted and his leg started kicking on it's own. Then she asked their names and insulted him yet again "This is a beautiful dog you have" Almech immediately backed away from her wonderful hands, this was one subject he felt the strongest about. He shifted and stood there staring at her for a moment "I belong to no one" he said breathing heavily it was a very passionate statement, you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice "My name is Almech, do not insult me again". Her statement had broken him from his trance, what happened next depended on her next action. It was easy enough for her to put him into a trance, but now she'd know what button not to push, he still wasn't aware of what came over him, he was very confused and a twinkle of fear was in his eyes as he looked around, finally realizing the city was in chaos.

[Miro]

The staff made an echoing tick each time it struck the ground. The streets were still dark, but Miro knew the city wasn't all dead. In the distance a faint hum of people moving about could be heard. It seemed like Miro was all alone though. He walked the silent streets with his goal in mind and still the uneasy feeling persisted. His hair stood up, his thoughts only provoked more fear and anxiety.

"This feeling, it's bad. Something bad is going to happen. Alone in the city? Since when? I am never alone." Miro's heart thudded in his chest and as the thoughts progressed his eyes turned orange. "That feeling, it is death. I will enter the Colosseum and Shale will pit me against a more powerful mage." Miro sighed, hoping the feeling wasn't what he feared. He let his glance drop to the ground and kicked at the dusty ground. "The scent of magic is heavy in the air. Morwen save us all."

As Miro went to turned his gaze back up to see where he was going a familiar voice came booming towards him, frightening him. His feet stopped and his entire body tensed up as he nervously gripped onto the staff. Soon after the tension was gone and Iliana's feet could be heard thumping louder as she neared him. Now looking up he found what he had been seeking. The Akeldama Colosseum had crept up and was closer than he expected. Just as a nervous smile reached his face, anxious to go in and ready to answer Illy's question something amazing happened.

Just as Iliana walked beside him the Colosseum burst into a flame of impossible size. A boom exploded towards the two of them causing Miro to want to cover his ears. He staggered back and fell onto his rump as the ground shook. Debris rained from the air in the form of hot reddened stones. Few fell around him, one grazing his arm and burning him. Miro quickly produced ice cold water over the afflicted area and immediately 'sweating' out a bit of icy water for protection as he shielded his face.

Miro was now more than worried, unable to find any words, just taking action. He began to pool res around his arms and stood up carefully. Dust was now settling in around them, causing him to wheeze and cough a bit. Now Miro knew for sure that his fears had been realized. The superior mage was here, and Miro could practically taste the djed. How were they powerful enough to destroy the whole building. The legendary colosseum that had stood the test of time was now gone. For what reason would they do such a thing? Who was hurt? Miro wanted to run badly, but he knew he couldn't Iliana would have to be gone first, that was for sure. Her safety was the only thing that mattered.

As the fiend began to step out of the cover of the dust Miro focused on the clicking of her feet. Miro now was finally able to find his words and issued a warning to Iliana in a calm quiet tone. "You need to get out of here." As he finished a feminine voice could be heard, talking in a calm voice. She made light of all that had just happened, as if it was nothing. The dust cleared so that she could be seen, leaving an open field around them.

Miro's eyes faded from orange to teal as she came into sight. She was wearing green, and it suited her well. What didn't however was the strong musk of an overly confident crazed mage. She began to babble and walk towards Miro, and now she was sounding upset. "Real? Why wouldn't she be real? Unless..." The memories of the underground came to his mind. Such powerful people, and their ability to make things real on a whim. Was this display the product of "her"?

The woman's hand reached for Miro's as he pulled away, backing up slowly. He wanted to know how Iliana was doing, but he couldn't take his eyes off of this woman. Her attention turned to Illy as did Miro's. It seemed she was fine for the most part, but for how long would this last? As soon as Miro put his anxious mind to rest on Iliana's safety, he realized something was wrong. The city wasnt behind her as it should have been. Miro glanced around, noting that nothing was near them. Under them however the entire city could be seen. He had never been in a situation where a deadly fall was possible, but now that he had, Miro found he was not a fan of heights. The Colosseum as well as another building were reduced to rubble. It seemed that she was not acting alone in this.

Laughing and screaming, the woman carried on her unsettling rant questioning reality. Miro had long since moved his res to his back, and in fact was gathering up enough to cast a strong defensive spell. The woman stopped for a moment, leaving Miro as anxious as ever. His heart thudded irregularly and shivers took hold of his body. For once Miro felt cold in a bad way. Had Morwen forgotten him? Was this truly the end?

Miro began to fall and his stomach felt as if it was planning on jumping out of his mouth. A long drawn out scream bellowed from his lungs and his limbs flailed as if he could swim up and stop it from happening. The staff still remained tight in his grip, and he would not release it. Part of him hoped it would somehow save his life now.

Before Miro realized it he was sitting in front of the woman on his knees, still screaming for a brief period. She asked him if it was in fact real, and Miro had to wonder for a moment before answering. "Was it real? Are you real? I don't know any of that. Every single thing here could be an illusion...But I can tell you what is real. Pain and emotions are very real. That building you destroyed, it meant something to me. The debris that rained down hurt too." Miro let out a despondent sigh, trying hard not to offend her, but also feeling the sting of losing the Colosseum. "Do you feel pain? Do you feel emotion? If not, then I wouldn't call you real at all."