Open Chronicles Conquest of Paradise

[Hilteliren]

A sickly, bright green glow emitted from the wound of the tree. Muirin withdrew his sword to find spirit ichor clinging to the blade, thick and viscous like tree sap and illuminated by an arcane glow. As he pulled back he'd feel the tingling sensation of the Oni's power enveloping his sword arm, the hushed voice of Maziri whispering within the thunder he'd summoned from the far seas. A wind picked up, heady with moisture of a coming storm, and the massive tree before him began to wilt.

From the wound a blackness spread across the bark in response to the theft of the great ghastly being from within. The spirit ichor drew upwards into his sword, absorbing into the metal and coalescing with the Oni's smokey self. The two shrank inwards around the hilt, leaving behind Damascus-like marring on the steel and two curious emerald gemstones on either side of the guard.

Muirin breathed in a free breath and expressed the last of the Oni from his lungs in the form of a wisp of smoke. Its job to aid him finished and its power spent.

From the treeline the frantic call of a horse as the Priestess' steed came barreling through the water towards him, tangled in vines and covered in small cuts and bite marks.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Amore struggled to get to her feet, finding herself ensnared by a massive plant of dagger-sized thorns. She tore herself free of her outer cloak as Kishou helped her up, growling softly as it stubbornly stuck to her side where a thorn had pierced through the light leather armor beneath. With a muted grunt the Priestess carefully pulled the thorn free, eyes quickly taking in several inches of the point coated in her blood.

The woman took a deep breath, biting back a noise of pain as she picked up her staff, "The moon," she said to Kishou, "can you see it."

In the suddenness of the fall she'd managed to lose her bearings.

 

[childish brandino]

After helping the priestess to her feet, he released her arm. After a quick glance up, Kishou nodded. Luckily, there was an opening in the canopy. He could see a sliver of the moons.

“This way,” He began to walk towards darkness, cutting away hanging vines in his path. He cast a glance back, “Are you well?”

 

[Muirin]

Smoke billowed from the scoundrel's nose as he pulled free of the Oni's control, taking three heavy breaths to steady himself. The drain of that exorcism hit Muirin hard, bringing a sag to his shoulders as water lapped around his knees. "I... Need... A fockin' drink..." The words came out as a raspy mutter, but a shape came charging from the woods before he could lament any further.

The horse came splashing up to Muirin in a tangle of vines, and he was quick to calm it down-- Or rather, he was quick to try. The scoundrel pulled a thorny tendril from the beast's neck as it came near enough, cooing quietly in an attempt to soothe its evident panic. "'Ey, big guy, couple'a cuts won't kill ya..." Slowly, Cortez began to calm, and Muirin was able to untangle the mesh of vines and thorns that had so thoroughly ensnared the warhorse. This is that lady's mount, isn't it, he thought as he worked on cutting the creature free. What the hell is it doing out here?!

The creature was soon free enough to head back towards the shore, but Muirin didn't trust himself to mount up between the horse's panic and his own nearly exhausted state. He took the creatures reins in hand and began slogging back the way he'd came, calling out past the trees as they grew closer to the clearing's edge. "Oi! Anyone out theya?!"

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"I am fine, keep moving."

The chaos of the encampment faded behind them, replaced by thunder before them, but all around them the sounds of the beasts could be heard. Perhaps the men had made it to the boats, leaving behind nothing at the camp for them to quarrel with. Now the monsters turned their sights inwards to the last living creatures left behind. That had to be it.

She had no idea that the source of it all had been effectively exorcised and was now summoning its horde from the sword of the swashbuckler up ahead.

Oi! Anyone out theya?! a faint call, the sound broken by the trees and the music of the beasts.

Amore attempted to pull in a deep breath to call back but was abruptly cut off by the growing sting of pain in her side. She groaned instead, clasping a gloved hand over the wound as she followed Kishou, "L-ligera pilar," tamping her staff into the ground the bright illumination returned, casting a pillar of brilliant gold skywards that blasted through the treetops.

 

[childish brandino]

Kishou continued to carve a path for them. His senses were on edge. The unease of having countless things watch him from every direction greatly unsettled him.

When he heard the sound of a vaguely familiar voice, his pace increased. Following that, then surroundings lit up. He looked over his shoulder for a moment, eyes following the beam up.

“Did you hear the vo-,” He was cut off as a humanoid figure lashed from the shadows above. He gasped, sidestepped, and thrust the point of his longsword into the creature that had dove past him and onto the ground. Following that, the rustling and occasional hiss rose to shrill screams and breaking branches.

He did not need to say anything. Instead, he rushed forward, cutting away any vegetation in front of him much more frantically than before.

 

[Muirin]

Muirin's pace stumbled to a stop for a moment as he awaited a response. No call came in return. Before he could take another step, however, a beacon of light erupted from within the jungle and split its way through the branches to streak skyward. The scoundrel hustled forward after a moment of stunning shock, continuing to pull Cortez along as the pair cut into the jungle with renewed vigor. Through a distant split in the trees, he could make out a familiar figure slicing and dicing his way closer, accompanied by the very same lady whose horse he now lead.

Before Muirin could call out once more, a creature came sprinting through the underbrush and leapt up at the sailor's sword arm. The infected canid sank its teeth through the scoundrel's jacket, ripping into the flesh of his forearm and causing the man to loose a sharp cry of pain. He gave the limb two quick thrashes, trying to shake free of the beast, but it held strong.

"Feck it all," was the improvised battle-cry that ripped its way through the tired man's throat as he brought a fist cracking down against the animal's skull. Its jaw went slack as its head cracked against abnormally hardy knuckles, and Muirin shook it from his arm.

"Oi!" Another call, this one directed squarely at the star-cross'd pair as Muirin cut his way closer. "Job's done, we've got 'ta get the feck outta here!"

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

The chattering, snarling, screeching, and scrying of the monstrous beings grew louder until the din of them filled the jungle. Like the turbulence of a rioting crowd, Amore stood with her back to Kishou as the forest around them shivered and shook, heralding the oncoming horde that dare not enter the circle of light. Electric blues glinted beneath the streaming pillar above, quickly surveying the roiling shadow of creatures lingering just out of sight. This entire island had become infested with them, far too many to stand against with mere blades.

Amore seethed air through her teeth, pain in her side growing worse. She could feel her blood soaking through the leather of her gloves, dripping between her fingers, saturating the material beneath her armor. Her breath was coming in shorter.

Oi! Job's done, we've got 'ta ge the feck outta here! the scalawag came thrashing through the overgrowth, Cortez in one hand and swinging sword in the other.

"What-" the Priestess labored to draw in a breath deep enough to speak her thoughts, eyes continuing to dart around, following the undulation of roving shadows and beady eyes, "what do you mean ... the job's done?"

 

[childish brandino]

Kishou let out an unsteady breath as he could hear countless creatures swarm around them, only the light keeping them at bay. His two swords, now feeling quite useless, were raised at his sides. He was oblivious to the wound afflicted to the Priestess at his back, his attention stuck on the ungodly beings that closed in on them.

Then came forth the scoundrel.

Job's done? Done?

"That's funny," He let out a nervous chuckle, "That seems contrary to the situation we find ourselves in."

 

[Muirin]

Muirin felt his hackles rise as the dissonant screams grew louder and louder. Each moment brought more of the island's denizens upon them, and the only thing holding them at bay was, what, a moonbeam? The scoundrel had certainly been in better situations, but, hey, at least he had company for this leg of the island nightmare.

"Ye', loik I said. Killed a tree, took it's soul, job's done. We'd best go, yea?" He glanced between the practical strangers as he spoke, noting how the man let his swords droop in his grasp. Muirin's falchion, meanwhile, was held tight by his wounded arm, causing blood to run across his jacket through odd holes the beasts had left behind. "Oi'd love ta'explain it awl, but I 'eard there's a ship leavin' tonight, and Oi'd like t'be on it."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

Killed a tree? Took it's soul?

Amore's brow furrowed in consternation. Tree ... the source? Had this drunken buffoon managed to kill the source of the island's infestation? How? It didn't matter. What mattered was their chances of survival the longer they stayed here.

A harrowing screech cut through the humid jungle air as Amore's staff flickered like a candle flame in the wind. She gripped it tightly, teeth grit against the pain in her side and nodded to the scoundrel's words, "You two must go. Take the horse, get to the boat ... as quickly as you can. I will clear a path for you."

 

[childish brandino]

He didn't have long to think on how the far-from-polished individual in front of them managed to quell the source. He gave the Priestess a sideways look. The screech that ripped through the darkness reminded him of the winged beast that had initially knocked them off of Cortez.

"And leave you here?" He shook his head, his dark eyes looking directly into her deep blues, "Don't be ridiculous."

 

[Muirin]

Muirin had to soothe the warhorse once more as a sharp cry rippled above the din of chattering beasts, and he gave the priestess a wary look. He could see the crimson running down her side in the light of her magic, and for a moment, he feared the worst. Then he saw a certain glint in her gaze, something he'd seen in himself once or twice before-- Was it determination, or the will to sacrifice herself for their salvation? Time may tell.

"Yer hurt, lass," the scoundrel managed to say with uncharacteristic diction, taking each word slowly to make Amore consider her choice carefully. "But if you want us to go, we'll go." He raised one foot and kicked it gently into Cortez's stirrup, wrenching himself upward with more brutish strength than grace. Once he was seated, he offered Kishou a hand and continued. "We'll keep the boats out for you, yeah? Give 'em hell."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

"This island must be purged of its monsters," Amore held Kishou's gaze with a stoic determination, her words pressing through clenched teeth, "it cannot ... be allowed to spread."

The color in her gaze flickered and shifted, the fire burning inside of her taking hold. The Priestess felt her blood set to boil, her skin growing beyond the warmth of the air - growing hot. Above the obelisk of light grew in intensity, shifting from white to a heated and righteous golden-orange.

"You must go," she said, echoing Muirin's words of departure to Kishou. She pulled her free hand from her side, deep scarlet freely dripping from her fingertips, and formed a fist around a flame in the palm. It sizzled through her fingers, catching the blood-soaked material of the glove and quickly burning it away. Amore turned it away from the moon, back in the direction of the camp, and began speaking a mantra that boomed along the echo of thunder above.

The flames reared up around her fist, beckoned by her voice and a power of divine fury. She cast her palm open and from within issued forth a blazing ball of fire that cut a path through the jungle.

"GO!"

 

[childish brandino]

Thick brows furrowed at her insistence. He could only meet her firm resolution with a respectful silence. The temperature rose around them, and with it, the swordsman's desire to protest.

Quelling his desire to argue, he frustratedly sheathed his two swords, turned, and took up the scoundrel's hand. Upon mounting Cortez for a second time in the night, he turned to the Priestess.

"We will wait," He called down to her, reiterating what Muirin had said. His lips curled up in a sad smile, "I never got to taste the tea. You owe me that."

And with that, Muirin spurred Cortez on, and fire opened their path.

The two rode through the inferno, and Kishou placed a hand on the scoundrel's shoulder to balance himself.

"My friend," He said with a chuckle, "I think she may have taken my heart."

 

[Muirin]

Muirin kept Cortez ready to sprint at a moment's notice, sheathing his sword to take up the reins once more. "Scary times, eh," he spoke soothingly, but the horse only blew out a sharp breath in response. Clearly, handling animals wasn't exactly his forte in the same sense as brawling or exorcising.

The jungle roared into light with the priestess' arcana, Kishou gave the horse all the motivation he needed, and they were off. Cortez ripped through the jungle, a mass of raw, wild muscle trained with the singular purpose to get two men to shore. Creatures of all stripes screamed and cried out in the woods; several infected primates of various sizes rained down like jackstones in the trio's path, each one set ablaze by that fire which had torn their course. The embers of their fur was quickly stomped out by Cortez's hooves, leaving little behind but broken wretches, and still the horse tore on.

The din of creatures around Amore raged with renewed purpose as they tore off after their leading spirit which sat so comfortably in Muirin's sheath, growing only marginally quieter as a large swath of the island's populace swung and ran off towards shore. Yet eyes still lingered high in the trees and low to the ground, watching the bright woman as she set to her work.

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

The flames surrounding her hand spread along her arm, catching upon the cloth of her robes and the leather of her armor. Metal and weapons quickly turned molten, melting away in red-hot slag and catching the dense greenery of the jungle as it dropped to the ground. Amore's vision followed the retreating figure of the golden horse and the two men, the color gone from her eyes.

"...go..." a whispered plea as the inferno within grew beyond containment.

Fury consumed her, became her. White-hot flames enveloped her figure, blood boiled and freely fell from her wound as liquid magma, scorching the earth at her feet. Amore remembered watching the trees about her go up in flame, the screams of the creatures as they burned alive filling her ears amidst the roar of holocaust.

She saw white, burning light, felt the weight of her body leave her, the heathen of her heart set free upon the land to chase and scorch without mercy the disease upon it. Amore watched it rage until the white bled out into blackness and she could watch it no more. Kishou, Muirin, and Cortez made it to the waters in time for the infernal blast to lick at their heels with a heat so intense it burned eyes just to look upon it.

Before long it consumed the entire island, an uproarious wailing filling the air between flame and smoke.

Alight for all the world to see.

 

[childish brandino]

As the flames threatened to consume them in the jungle, Kishou had pleaded with Cortez, urging him to move faster. There was no need for him to ever look back, as he had felt the inferno loom over them for the entire ride back.

Once they finally broke through the treeline and onto the beach, they were met with the rest of the crew, numbers far less than what they had landed with. Muirin brought Cortez up to the group, and Kishou was the first to dismount. He turned to face the flame that consumed the island, and through squinted eyes looked upon the impossibly large blaze.

He recalled seeing her reach into an open flame before, but his hopes of seeing the Priestess again dwindled with every second. Despite that, like how she was resolved to stay, he was determined to wait.

 

[Muirin]

Oppressive heat chased the escaping swordsmen all they way to the beach, carried along by the furious sprint of Cortez. As they finally broke onto the beach, Muirin could almost swear he felt his hair catch alight from the absolute devastation that reigned behind them. He finally brought the horse to a staggering stop once his hooves beat into the surf, and the scoundrel couldn't help but slump against the creature.

What a night.

"Quite the woman t'steal yer heart, mate," he sighed past his relief, slowly dismounting the steed after Kishou and walking after him. Ankle deep in water, Muirin propped his fists on his hips and watched the jungle burn. "... She was good t' let us leave before all this," the scoundrel continued more clearly, resting a maul-sized hand upon his fellow sellsword's shoulder and giving him a comforting pat. "I'll help ya' look for her when th'fires die down, lad. Not to worry."

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

It was not long before the flames had taken the entire island. A heathen beast of fury claimed all things living and non, all greenery turned to ash, all creatures chased to hellfire. Their echo of their wails died down long before the flames did. Burning twilight hours while the men took safety in their boats, rocked by languid seas. The inferno lashed high towards the stars, choking the night sky with smoke and columns of fire tall as mountains.

Once the stars began to fade the roar quieted.

As the sun began to rise it shone upon a landscape of black and grey and smoldering embers.

Buried within the ash, near the cinder remains of the great tree, the gleam of scarlet hair peeked through. Amore, still and silent with a gown of embers and soot.

 

[childish brandino]

There were no words to describe the sight of flame so might, it was as if the earth itself spewed forth its molten innards. Through the night, the flames raged. While the rest rowed back to the ship, a single boat remained floating by the beach. The foreigner and scoundrel waited for the fire to settle, then they would begin the search.

Kishou leaned against the stern, eventually resting his eyes late in the eve.

After several hours, hues of the sun began to kiss the sky. Stroke by stroke, radiant gold painted over the abyssal dark night sky. The rising of the sun stirred Kishou, who upon composing himself, observed the smoldering field that was once a lush jungle.

The foreigner gave Muirin a nudge on the shoulder to stir the sailor, then began to row ashore. He did not wait for his companion and jogged ahead to approximately the same area where they had separated from the Priestess, all the while taken aback from the sheer scale of the magic that she had unleashed.

He had never seen anything like it.

 

[Muirin]

Muirin felt something jostle his shoulder before he snored himself awake. Sitting upright, he blinked away the light of the morning sun and saw a swordsman rowing them to shore. "Mornin' already?" He grumbled out the query, rising to his feet and stretching his back as their dinghy met the shore.

Before them, the island was laid out in bare desolation. Not a tree remained that wasn't burned to its core, leaning on another for support - There was no doubt that a true storm's wind would topple what remained of the priestess's work into a flat plane of ashy waste. "Astra preserve us, mate," another grumble, this one only slightly more articulated. "Yer' lover's a drag'n."

Muirin trailed behind Kishou as he searched past the shores, soon landing at the ashen remains of the clearing they'd met in. While the swordsman glanced about at where Amorea had been the night before, the scoundrel continued onward to the burnt-out carcass of the monstrous tree. Smoke still rose from what remained of the spirit's previous home, and Muirin would swear he saw faint traces of sickly green light still pulsing from within.

Near the trunk, a flash of scarlet sat stark against the coals and ash. The scoundrel nearly dismissed the sight as a flash of embers before he spotted the faintest of movements. Was that a nose? The faint curve of someone's mouth? He fell to his knees, pawing at the ash that had entombed the priestess while calling over his shoulder. "Maaate! We've Got'er!" One question remained in his mind - How the fuck had she not been burnt to a crisp?