The Broken Circle

[Nimvahlis]

It was akin to reaching out in a world without light. Nimvahlis sifted blindly through the chaos, searching for something, anything to latch onto and rip from the mass. His brain buzzed with the effort of order, so unaccustomed as it was to the notion. Frantic ideas raced down electric highways to uncertain destinations- Nim could not find a clear answer. Heavy eyes alighted upon himself, entirely unable to aid the physical fight. The only battle he could entertain was one of the mental. Yet, how did one combat something that epitomized the bedlam of Rhysol? Ten thousand answers manically swarmed his head, none of them proper ammunition. Frustration welled up within him, and his eyes attempted to focus on the djed eddying around the adumbrative entity. Nimvahlis had not the slightest as to what information he could ascertain, but spontaneity dominated in this instance and he leaped for the first definitive answer with his auristics. It soon after that pages began turning in Nim's mind of their own accord. The Ethaefal spent much time exploring his mind, as he had little other stimulation when encased in his solitude, as such this entity was quickly noticed. This presence had announced itself like a man calmly walking through a world of hornets, obvious and tranquil among the unceasing noise. Nimvahlis was unthinking in his defense, inverting his focus away from the shadow beast and onto the mental assailant. He willed his thoughts to calm, not an easy or successful task given the circumstances. A great blankness spread itself before Nimvahlis' closed eyes, white and serene. It was the first step of what may be a long battle, but it was where he would begin. Each breath was loud in his ears, resounding and total. Nimvahlis commanded himself to focus solely on the inhalation and exhalation of air, though he found his thoughts straying back to the struggle outside of him and the entity within. Nim caught himself each time he drifted too far though, rebuking all else with renewed vigor. I am alone. The curt reminder of his complete solitude accompanied each return to the deep breathing. Would that this mockery of concentration could dispel an entity that Nim would oft times embrace... But nobody toyed with his mind, this entity would be driven out one way or another. Nim found himself unable to maintain such an empty state. Beneath the blank facade he writhed and churned in the white space, emotions erratically breaking through despite his concentration. Nim was faltering, failing before the unseen being combing his brain. He clutched his head, as if raking out the silver strands would exorcise the assailant. The presence was wrong, the turning of pages was wrong, the approach was wrong- this was not Nimvahlis. A small lance of emotion broke through the trembling white veil, and Nim almost sighed in the relief. Such suppression was so painful, and proved to be ineffective. The blankness began earnestly dissolving in the colored lights that burst through, Nimvahlis had found his approach. He recalled the strands of bluish tranquility he had wrapped about himself in Abura, the dimly glittering melancholia he had so embraced, and the inky depression of the days before he had discovered Leth. Each of these he surrendered, real and visceral as they were, to the entity. The emotions flickered through his brain at break neck speed, Nimvahlis rapidly perusing the familiar thoughts and barraging the entity with each. A flaring light, fallen stardust, a frigid reality and the sanctuary within the confines of his mind- all foisted upon the assailant. There was hopefully no easy perusal as Nim continued, but the weariness that gnawed at him threatened to change this.

[Ja'soth]

The battle has begun and things are not looking good for our intrepid party,but in everything there is a way out. Let us go on to the players.

Skroth

You find that as you stand there the line between reality and vision becomes more and more blurred the images of blasphemy and savagery becoming more and more intense as the thing grows ever closer to you. It extends a shadowy appendage toward you and when it contacts you there is a burning sensation and the fur singes and the flesh blisters, however it cannot yet get a good enough grip on you to do serious damage but it seems to be growing in size as if it were assessing what it needed to bring you down.

Avi

As you swoop toward Skroth you would note that the shadow thing seems to be growing in size and you can smell burning fur and flesh as it touches him. Talons find their grip on something that seems a cross between liquid and solid it sort of oozes between your talons but you get a grip on it. As you do though you feel the same burning as Skroth as if the things substance is made of black fire or acid. However you can lift it off Skroth and try to drop it or otherwise kill it...if you can take the damage.

Nimvahlis

You feel you have to land as Syna is setting and you will lose your wings soon, Your sight beyond sight detects nothing but blackness and red as there is nothing but evil and torment and anger here. It is almost blinding like a light if blackness could be described that way, but you can tell it is focused on Skroth. You also can detect Avi swooping down on the thing and smell the smells of burning flesh and fur.

[Skroth]

As the shadowy being moved closer to Skroth, he felt his world collapse into the cesspool of pain and savagery that the corrupted vision brought with it. His surroundings seemed to melt, only to merge with the backdrop of the chaotic images, making reality and hallucination one and the same. His mental faculties have not left him despite the assault in his mind, and when the being touched him – its caress like acid and fire – he knew it was working to bring him down. Instinct would have been to push the creature off, but even in this, even subjected to pain, the Jamoura debated within himself.

Would not touching it only give it a more solid grip upon his person? Would it not only cause him more pain? While seemingly solid, the being felt incorporeal as well – would he even get a firm enough hold upon it to push it away?

Too many questions, and all pointed to avoiding the shadowy being. That would be the answer. Skroth drew back, pulling his burned arm close to his chest and sliding down his mount the opposite side to where he thought the shadow creature was. He slapped the beetle on its rump, encouraging it to flee, before he scrambled back, groping for a branch, a young tree – anything! - to use as a weapon on the creature that brought him pain. He would have no qualms inflicting hurt upon it, for it was obviously a servant of the enemy.

[Avi]

Pain! Pain! Pain!

Despite the hardened skin on her rough feet, Avi shrieked with pain as she gripped it with her feet, flapping her wings hard, ripping the attacker off of Skroth as she launched herself upwards. It flashed across her pain receptors. Avi didn't much care for pain, not at all. Generally, she would do what she could to avoid it. But if she let go... she was letting her teammates down. She was a black owl, one of the nastiest predators to roam Taldera's skies, and to top it off, she was dire-sized. Caiyha Herself had asked Avi to come here. She had to fight through it. She had to fight through it!

Do it for Caiyha. Do it for Terminus. Do it for the Spires! Do not let go. Do not let go! The giant shadow of her wings covered Skroth only for a mere moments as Avi dug her talons into the sticky substance and went upwards. It was a carefully timed, carefully executed snatch and grab. Don't think about it, she ordered herself. Don't think. Just do. The fact that it was growing should have disturbed her, but Avi shut her mind down - rather than think about what she was doing and just how pissed off Rhysol was going to be with the lot of them if they actually succeeded in this. She made sure she didn't grip it so tightly she would rip it to smithereens before she got it up to the proper height she wanted - that would come later, after all. The Kelvic shrieked again, in anger and in pain, but she was beginning to focus that pain into one diamond-hard core of anger. Anger at Rhysol for the work he gave to his minions. Anger at Hramath for doing this. And quite frankly, there was a lot of anger at the whatever the Ukalas it was she was gripping.

When she was high enough above the trees, high enough that anything else she dropped she was certain of killing, Avi kept going - she wasn't taking any chances of this horror surviving the fall. She didn't know if this was Hramath's monster, and she wasn't taking any chances. Going higher still, when the pain was so much she couldn't take it any more, she unclenched her feet and jerked her wings sharply, using the creature's weight against it to detach it from her feet, letting it fall, circling higher before turning to watch it go.

[Nimvahlis]

In a rare fit of common sense, Nimvahlis alighted upon the ground near the base of the tree- he was so tired. There appeared to be no further assaults upon his mentality, what has happened? Confusion tormented the Akvatari as he leaned against the rough bark of the towering conifer. Had the presence been overwhelmed, or had it forced him into submission? Is my mind my own? The questions continued to blight his mind as weakness threatened his body. Between his magic and the assault, Nimvahlis found himself wishing for catatonia. Yet there was still work to be done this evening. It was the slight blurring of his form, as if viewed through a thin sheet of water, that signified the commencement of the night. In the sky above the foliage, Syna was inevitably vanishing to make way for Leth. Nimvahlis' form wavered and continued its path to indistinction, sinking to the bottom of the sea. At some point unknown by those that may be watching, the tail attached to his torso was exchanged for a pair of bare legs. Horns sprouted on Nim's forehead, and fine silver threads tinted blue as if the moon's light illuminated them from within. The pale skin on his torso reflected a sheen of the moon's colors as the displacement faded and he became clear once more. Avi and the shadow beast had both vanished, yet Skroth's dark form was still groping about on the forest floor. Alone. His mount had skittered off a bit, and the simian was an image of pathetic effort as he cast about. Save him, do not share in this despair. Words slowly played through the synapses and conduits of his mind, urging him to aid his companion. Wearily, Nimvahlis gathered the dregs of Djed lingering within him, and spun them into fine threads of influence. As the divine mechanism hummed and magic coiled around the subject, the weariness seemed to flee from Nim's bones. There was hope yet for them, this the hypnotist knew. This Skroth knows. It was not a powerful insinuation, yet the accompanying flash of The Spires, peaceful and serene, was not so meek. Skroth could see the Jamoura of the near future, their peaceful existence unhampered by the terrors of Rhysol. Sweet forest scents filled his nostrils, briefly overriding the present's decay. It was over in an instant, and Nimvahlis dabbed away the blood that welled in his eyes. He would have to be careful. I will have to cast more. "Friend Skroth, are you very well? What do you seek?

[Ja'soth]

Our intrepid p;art finds them selves now locked in battle with a servant of Rhysol, so far it is but a shadow, who knows what lurks behind it though. The thing has so far attacked Skroth and harmed him. It also appears they are closing in on their target as the black marble substance is thicker here than in other places. So on to the battle

Skroth

Your mount rears back and stab s the shadow thing square in what would be its chest. The beetle squeals in pain and runs as you slide off it and has disappeared for now. As you draw your arm toward your chest the black tentacle draws with you and you smell the smell of burning fur and feel the blistering pain of contact with the creature. It grows again in size now enough to engulf you and wraps yet another tendril around your waist searing the fur and flesh there.

However through your pain you can see what looks to be a tree encased in the black marble. It is uproot able even without your flux. A swing toward the shadow finds the tree stuck in its substance, but elicits a howl of pain from it and the place where the tree touches it begins to smolder even the marble like stuff. It is clear you have harmed it but it is still drawing you closer to it. Suddenly you hear a scream as it is ripped from you or at least the shadow portion of it is, what is left is a putrid looking, scabbed thing that oozes pus and putrefaction. It resembles a giant man but misshapen and chaotic looking It howls loudly and charges you.

During this time the images of chaos and blasphemy seem to ease from your mind as if by suggestion and you can hear Nimvahlis voice through your pain and confusion and your mind is filled with peaceful images.

Avi

You begin to pull upward despite the burning in your talons and feet which is worse than any burn you have ever felt. The shadow of the thing pulls free of the body like a sticky resin and as you rise closer and closer to the edge of the mist the blackness grows thinner and thinner until it dissipates into vapor leaving you with moderate burns to your feet and legs. Looking down below you see the putrid abomination charging Skroth. You also notice that Nimvahlis has changes his appearance as if he were two different people

Nimvahlis


You shift into your night form and focus your power toward Skroth to calm him. You can tell it is having an effect and the giant Jamoura seems to focus. You also see Avi in her owl form swoop down and rip the shadow form from some kind of misshapen putrefied abomination which starts to charge Skroth.

Temple of Rhysol

Hramath watches with displeasure in what appears to be a reflection in the black marble walls. The first abomination was not faring as easily as he had hoped. He thought that moving the second one might be a prudent thing since it had a few more seasons yet before it hatched. I'm glad this is not the only stronghold. he growled in Jamoura

[Skroth]

Like water poured over the smoldering embers of a bonfire, the soothing images that gently wrapped themselves in Skroth’s mind helped alleviate the torturous assault of the nightmarish hallucinations. He knew not where the comforting visions came from until he spotted the outworldly being looking at him with concern. The creature spoke with Nimvahils’ voice. He was an Ethaefal?

The novelty of the revelation almost gave the massive Jamoura pause, but the impending threat in the form of the humanoid abomination charging at him maintained his attention. He had already hurt in once, when he had lashed out blindly with his makeshift club, but now that he had his wits about him, Skroth knew he had to put the thing down lest it caused further harm to him and his companions. Caiyha had sent him and the others to destroy this perversion of nature and its source and by the Goddess, he would.

Concentrating, ignoring the numerous burns that sent tendrils of pain through his nervous system, Skroth put himself in tune with his body, opening pathways for Djed to flow into his muscular arms. He needed to do this right, to introduce just enough of his personal energies in to his limbs to generate the needed strength and power to put the creature away. Strong though the abomination might be, Skroth knew he was superior. Had he not devoted his life in learning the limitations of the body? The realm of the physical was where he thrived and he knew just how much he could do without overgiving and injuring himself.

As the horrid atrocity came within range, Skroth heaved back the marble-encased tree trunk. Djed-enhanced muscled contracted and, in the next instant, uncoiled to power a swing aimed at the creature’s head.

[Nimvahlis]

The sixth sense. As Skroth discharged his djed, Nimvahlis' nostrils flared and his eyes homed in on the simian. The scent of magic, one of foreign origin to this inundated forest, filled his sensitivities. His nerves prickled with energy as the Jamoura's struck, and Nimvahlis connected the dots. Have I been so inattentive? Realization that his companion was a magician had slipped through his mind, became muddled and lost like flecks of gold drifting in murky water. The Ethaefal sucked in the motes now renaissance had set in, his brain a whirling vortex desperately assembling them into a course of action. He did not analyze the situation so much as feel it, his mind sending visceral pulses along his nerve endings to tell him exactly what to do. The threads of influence folded and warped themselves, changing from the calm greens of a peaceful Jamoura society to an angry red. A thought of what could be flashed across Skroth's mind, the Spires in ruins and this beast cackling as it tore through its decayed remnants. Hot red blood spilled from Nimvahlis' eyes now, trickling down his cheeks as the anger and belligerence wrapped itself around Skroth. This is the price of failure. I must eradicate the beast! The Ethaefal's magic spurred his companion on, fueling the emotion that had caused him to use magic in the first place. Nimvahlis knew, and now Skroth knew, that magic was their solution. Nimvahlis thrummed his hypnotic cords, urgency and haste infiltrating their vibrations, Magic!. The hypnotist wiped away some of the crimson fluid from his eyes, and contemplated the sudden anger that began to rise within him.

[Skroth]

It was strange. Anger should have dissipated once his blow connected to the creature, not surge anew after the act was done. Should it not? And yet images of the destruction of his home and the surrounding lands flowed into his mind, and in the middle of it all was this perverted abomination wreaking havoc and strife. The price of failure indeed. An unfamiliar emotion - red hot, uncontrollable and one that promised untold violence - welled up from Skroth's heart, an unnatural occurrence for the normally gentle and docile Jamoura.

“Hrraagh,” he growled, simian lips curled back displaying sharp fangs. It was a primal sound that started deep in his belly and only grew in crescendo as he allowed the strange emotion to fill his being. It arrived at his throat, released like the sound of a mountain crumbling at the fury of a god's fist. “HRRAAANNNGGHHHH!"

Rage.

It was rage the flooded his mind, fueling his limbs to deliver just punishment upon the horrid mass of flesh before him. He would have tried to tap into his Djed once more, to back up his own strength with Flux again, but his unstable mental state prevented him from summoning the discipline and control to do so. It was simple adrenaline that coursed through his arms and lent power to his strikes now. Simple adrenaline wrought from his wrath, serving better that Flux ever could have had he been in a lucid state of mind.

Skroth raised the tree trunk high over his head, only to bring it crashing down upon the abomination. Again and again he would do this, each blow coming in faster and more powerful than the previous one. He was not accurate, not having wielded such a thing in violence before, but it did not matter. Every hit pounded the earth it seemed to shudder and the makeshift cudgel was up and back down again before anyone could form the thought how a massive piece of wood could move at such a speed. At least a dozen times it came up and crashed down again, sending shrapnels of marble and bits of wood flying in every direction.

Upon the last blow, the tree trunk dropped from Skroth's hands, the Jamoura finally exhausted. Chest heaving and great puffs of steam were expelled through his flat nose as the massive creature tried to rein in his anger. He turned to his companion, Nimvahlis, a haunted look in his eyes.

“What...” he began, but didn't finish, not knowing what to say. He was shocked at the level of violence he had just unleashed, not knowing how such a primitive emotion could overcome him.

[Avi]

oocSorry for my delay and lack of posting. -_-

Her talon-tipped feet felt like they were on fire. Despite the scaled, rough skin that covered her feet, designed to mitigate the pain-causing attributes of prey found in nature, Avi could tell she had been burned, and burned bad. What they were dealing with was nothing natural. It was simply chaos, and while nature was always wild at its core, it was never quite so chaotic, Avi felt. Things had meaning, purpose, spirit, names... chaos involved all and none of those. She found she could still flex and lock her feet - just as well, because she needed them. She didn't even want to guess how her walking ability in her human shape would be affected - she would be off-balance, and resting her weight on her feet would not be pleasant.

She was about to duck back down to try to intercept the abomination charging Skroth, only to turn and wing back up into the sky when the tree trunk began to move. She wasn't going to get anywhere near that - she had no doubt that if Skroth ever hit her with that thing by accident, she'd be dead meat. Not walking, not flying... so she stayed up and back, winging in circles, keeping an eye on everything else as she watched the events of the ground below. She didn't expect or anticipate the monster to be done just yet - it was just illogical for something like this to be done in like that.

She dove down, feet back until the very last second. The Kelvic brought her feet forward, and grasped and ripped at the beast with her gigantic claws, not trying to pick it up just yet. Avi wanted a feel to see just how badly her feet were damaged to see if she could snag it and take it up to drop it. She angled sharply before she hit a tree, and took to the skies once more, circling to check her handiwork.