Open Chronicles The War of the Kinniger Dutchy: Outriders

[Crows Call]

Unknown to the undead mages who had cast them the wards that had held back the teeming masses of their now ashen neighbors and kin from dragging them into their ranks had been absorbed by the chains conjured by Fazard, allowing the ashen to simply approach the church and begin grabbing from their haven the souls Gael had set out save. The ashen's hands, heads, and bodies began to ram through and demolish the barely standing charred, wooden walls.

In response Gael quickly wheeled around and drew her rapier which ebbed and a reddish ethereal miasma that seemed to cling to the blade, with a twirl of the blade and small spin she caused a few guizers of a similar energy to that of her blade to erupt around the perimeter of the church, almost instantly incinerating any of the ashen that dare cross the threshold, albeit not forever.

With a satisfied spin and then sheathing of her blade she turned to look at Kiros and placed a hand on her hip, before asking, "Now then, what was it you had asked of me..?"

As the battle raged outside, Dame Sigris continued the hack, and chop, and cleave through as many of the ashen horde as was super naturally possible occasionally letting out a spirited "Huzzah!" between strikes. Walst even further out from the church, in darkened parts of the realm, bodies went flying, bones were crushed, and the agonized roars of bear could be heard, until for some inconceivable reason it came charging backwards, the rustling of metal, the crushing of bone, and an uncanny black mist or smoke bellowing above the sea of the ashen that attempted to assail the church.

As Fazard in his construct hurled a few of the bodies of the ashen away from him the rusted warrior caught one mid trajectory, tearing it in half, vertically, before bellowing out "SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNVVVVVVVVVVVVVVIIIIIICHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Kiros Rahnel​

Farzad Oldsummer​

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Rather than wearisome, the danger of the situation and irritating presence of his own deity had left a burden of stress upon Kiros; what patience he held had long expired. Response to his question came not from the priestess, but from their surroundings. A wall began to groan out a dry, steady creak that broke into a loud snap, reverberating throughout the building’s interior. There was a scrape of wood before another creak added to it in response. Soon, the the entire exterior of the church joined in the violent cacophony of destructive noise piercing through the cold cathedral air. Kiros moved towards the centre of the church with careful steps; stressed frustration giving way to worry as the hordes passed not through the doorway, but smashed their way through the walls. To his fortune that all were incinerated on approach by the priestess’s well-timed blast of arcane miasma.

He had seen what the ashen were reaching for: the very ones that the priestess called her flock. He hid his disgust at the notion; disappointed that he lacked one to call his own, he still found it better than being burdened by foul undead. Despite his disdain however, the situation was clear – her flock was what required protection. But he knew not why, and given her response answers would likely need to wait.

“What is occurring?” he asked instead, attempting to address his own confusion. He had very little idea what was going on; but much like Farzad, his greatest present desire was to leave this forsaken place. Itra told him to trust none here and seek Her out, but past experience had taught him better than to place faith with Her. Farzad’s proving words were followed with further discouragement – emanating from the aura of his own divine connection, now recognizably tinged with familiar anger. Kiros winced at the shift in reflexive preparation for the pain of a migraine that, until now, had always accompanied such a shift in divine aura. Yet there would be none, and he was quick to realize what these events implied. He would have revelled in it if only they weren’t in such a deadly and dire situation.

In wait for response, he began to prepare another blessing as a weapon against the ashen. Regardless of whatever response Gael might have for him, discussion had gone on for far too long already. With focused mind and spoken prayer, he moved his staff in sudden motion forward with eyes fixated on one of his foes. The fiend burst into pieces and limbs where it stood, torn with a burst of radiant magic far more violent than the other blessings he had inflicted upon the undead.

Notable as it was, the incantation was still only able to slay one at a time; ultimately carrying no further benefit than it had before. Yet She still did not speak, and it seemed all the more odd given the change in divine aura Kiros had just witnessed.

Farzad Oldsummer Crows Call

 

[Crows Call]

The radiant blast from Kiros seemed to send ripples of light through the abyssal realm that, seemed to for lack of a better term: cause it pain. Indeed, the radiance of his miracles seemed to offend the foul air that surrounded this place.

A familiar voice roared triumphantly within Kiros mind, "AGAIN CHOSEN OF ITRA! EXPUNGE THIS PARISTIE!"

Meanwhile, in the dark parts of this wound in reality, where the so dubbed "rusted one" took an inhuman leap at Fazard, all-the-while bellowing out like a dying bear. The one-armed, tar-stained, rusted behemoth rushing him with such ferocity that one could only think to summoned against an age old nemesis.

Kiros Rahnel​

Farzad Oldsummer​

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

The excessive destruction had given Kiros little concern, having determined the cause to be of divine anger. He had hardly expected any useful aid to be bestowed by Her, and any notion that this effect might actually help had been written off entirely. Adventures were always better off without Her involvement. Were She present with them in that house, he was certain they would all be dead.

A relief then, that Her direct presence had been silenced. Possibly from external interference, but entirely likely due to Her own error. Kiros assumed the latter; he was just happy that She would not be able to make matters worse in the meantime. Yet, once the ashen had been destroyed by the blessing he would sense something amiss about the effect – it seemed to tear not just through his foe but caused harm to whatever realm they had wandered into.

And again he heard the voice as before; speaking of Itra by name. Naught before had Kiros ever heard Her name uttered by any but himself. He scanned his surroundings while he prepared another spell, giving the area a brief glance to see if there was anything present that might fit Her vague instruction. There was little trust in either god, this one might protect him, but He clearly wanted something out of him. Itra’s stated goal at least was to get him out of here; there happened to be little faith that she could carry through this desire. And desperate as he was for answers, he already knew She was in foul mood. While the situation to ask for help was proper, the time was poor.

“...How do you know Her?” It was irritating. Being the pawn of a single deity had been bad enough; never mind two.

“Do you see anything akin to what She spoke of?” He asked aloud to Farzad, doubting he did even before he spoke the words. What did a means of invoking a deity's power even look like? How does such a thing work? Kiros hadn’t even the slightest clue. Nothing looked off about his surroundings though, and with little time to dedicate to his search he promptly abandoned it. Turning to face yet another foe, he focused his spell upon him with spoken prayer – causing another ashen to erupt into a violent burst of resplendent light much as before.

For the time being, it seemed, he would have to continue fighting in defence of the church. Clearly, only once this battle was won would he be able to investigate matters further.

Farzad Oldsummer Crows Call

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

Farzad was growing lackadaisical in care. The workings of a god's blade seemed to shudder and send ripples of re-death through the ranks and scours of undead no matter how many times they re-appeared from the dirt and mud. With a flick of an inner wrist ta chain bolted upwards, with the coil of fingers another catches and crushed bone and blood leaving behind a husk. And with a wave three bodies were flung backwards to return to the fold slower and weaker than before. He was partially glad he couldn't really make out what was going on though that was seeming to backfire quickly.

Appoplexia.​

Yea. That seemed about right way to describe what had just barrelled through the door, it seemed to be the epitome of emotion, or at least makeup for the shambling tide. And Farzad done little more than meet him with a wide eyed stare. He was realizing the flaw with his first Arcane Mastery. Mobility, was not an option. Instead he looked flabbergasted as it barrelled closer and closer, Farzad dragging back all dozen or so chains with as much gusto as he could manage before the beast finally entered Farzad's personal space, his chains only matching a breath away from his face in an intricate chain-link guard. Farzad was no more than a handful of inches away from the stench of the behemoth, breathing in as his mental willpower strained against it's ghastly form, pushing backwards as veins popped and pleaded at him to move, but stuck in place as he prepared a secondary spell just incase things went further south.

 

[Crows Call]

As the rusted abomination clashed against the interlinked guard of Fazard's construct, gaining the attention of Dame Sigris, after a cleave she shouted to Gael to, "Gael, one of those flame spout's! HERE! NOW!" With a flick of her rapier hilt a small wall of the reddish ethereal energy, as she then continued to try and rally her flock to raise wards and weapons to hold. Dame Sigris rushed through and began cleaving her way through the horde to Fazard, she turned Crows Call and with a viscous sweep attempted to cleave the rusted one that assailed Fazard. However the rusted behemoth drew his longsword and parried the blow before sending her careening back into the ashen horde with the extension of his boot into her breast plate. The beast then turned to thrust the broken blade into Fazard...

Kiros Rahnel​

Farzad Oldsummer​

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Distracted in his brief search, it ended abruptly at the clash of the the behemoth against the chains Farzad had conjured forth. Kiros turned to face the sudden threat in an instant and prepared to deal with the rusted warrior as he had with the ashen before giving the notion reconsideration – this was no ashen before him, and he could not count on it being undead as they were. Whether or not his blessing of health would cause it harm hinged entirely on whether or not this unknown quality held true; it was not a gamble he wanted to take.

To say that Farzad was dwarfed by this armoured abomination would be severe understatement; the being stood taller than even he himself. By assessment of appearance, he would guess that Farzad held half the physical strength of their opponent. It was fortunate then, that Kiros knew of an incantation to increase his might four-fold. He began to focus his energies for the very blessing while Dame Sigris approached to provide the unarmoured men of magic some much needed aid.

Yet the mountain of rush was well prepared for her, and ejected her from the scramble with a forceful kick of his boot. Disappointing as this turn of events was, there was no time to dwell on it. With spoken prayer he invoked his magic, completing his spell and laying his blessing upon Farzad.

“Ouasmauh”

More old Kaliti – it sounded like ‘blessed power’. While the words alone gave hint to the spells purpose, Kiros would make it explicit. Not that he had any awareness of his companions wide linguistic knowledge.

“My blessing grants you the might of many men!” He shouted as quickly as he could while remaining clear as able. It was the most suitable magic he had to offer, and however Farzad might make use of it would be up to him.

Farzad Oldsummer Crows Call

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

The world seem to surge. Power. Was this was those beefcakes had? Strength of ten men? His eyes flickered in colouration, watery colours filled and flashed in his eyes as the swirls of the divine flickered in his iris. His knuckles cracked, the weight of the chains slowly bending as the gargantuan beast pressed deeper and deeper inch by inch. This thing had thrown a demi-god in a matter of fashion he could only compare to throwing around a snake like a whip.

His second spell crackled, far emboldened by the circle of seven spells, the chains were slowly falling back as it moved closer and closer, the busted blade moving like a needle through skin by some sadistic doctor taking the pleasure of watching a child squirm. He wasn't sure how much strength he had, but he moved a hand forward and grabbed the burgeoning beast by it's one armed wrist. Squeezing his hand tightly the final words were etching themselves into reality.

Sil Iro Vicinio
​

And with that his body became a ghastly explosion, thorns seemed to grow from his skin with violent force puncturing the air with aggressive motion's. His hand however was the most vicious, as if the very armour knew where to sprout and chide the flesh. It was more like a thicket bramble bush than a valley of rough terrain, clambering into the creature's flesh as Farzad's chains seemed to weaken at all the right points to let it's head push forward and gleam down. Farzad was half it's height and he had it bound in chains and it's useful arm tarnished in thorns and marks. He only gave heavy breaths as he matched it's fiery eyes with his own, his face slowly becoming engorged by wrappings of thorn.

"..." ​

 

[Crows Call]

(OOC: Sorry for the late post, I got wrapped up in some real life shit that needed to be taken care of.)

Fazard's spell was more than effective at stopping the beast, the thorns that imbedded into it gave opening for him to wrap it in chains, halting it but undoubtedly only fueling the abominations rage. From the thorns that imbedded into the beasts corrupted flesh poured forth a burning black tar, and from it rose a sickly sweet smelling, black smoke, that enveloped it, only leaving the singular green glowing eye visible, staring back into the eyes of Fazard.

In seconds Crow's call was raised and was sent with a rather infuriated grunt from Sigris, though the creatures abdomen, not a sound leaving the creature as it went through. Gael was quite concerned about the situation, though she kept most of her attention on the preparations of her flock for the coming horde of the Ashen that could now simply charge the wards. Then the Warfather spoke to her, "Gael... MY CHAMPIONS ARE TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER!!!" Frustrated she turned to see the scene behind her, then they all witness the chains that bound the creature snap and the segments drop to floor rusted before dispelling...

Kiros Rahnel​

Farzad Oldsummer​

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Once Dame Sigris had plunged her blade into the rusted armour, an odd black ichor poured out; yet rather than a rotten stench, it held a lurid sweetness. It only furthered his doubt that the rusted armour held undeath within it. Could it be arcane construct? If it were, his incantation of immute might hold the ability to disable it. But by no means had the possibility of undeath been discounted. Appearances can be deceiving, as he had learned with the light-wielding warrior back within the cursed house. To determine the rusted beast’s true nature would require a casting of insight. A spell he did not have time for in such a situation that required more immediately effective efforts.

When the War-Father had called out to him, he had taken his message to imply the rusted warrior as the parasite; but given His apparent confusion at the ensuing battle, he hardly felt sure. Perhaps He had referred to Farzad? Not that Kiros would even consider such betrayal, determined to see him survive the foolish holy quest that endangered both so. Of all the entities populating the chaotic scene he found himself in, Farzad was the only one who held his trust.

He was also the only one considered for ongoing arcane support. His spell appeared to be effective against the rusted behemoth, and it was the most readily apparent means of dealing with it. With a repeat of his uttered holy prayer, he channelled the blessing he had cast previously; further arcane energy poured into the incantation in order to maintain it’s effect upon Farzad. That the chains had broken further increased the need for the continued effect. Without it, the armoured behemoth would doubtlessly and deftly overpower him.

Kiros stepped a pace back to gain better view of his surroundings and ensure that no ashen would approach the wizard in his focused state. It was the last thing the two needed. With Farzad so completely physically involved with the conflict, the very task would have to fall to Kiros. While they had the others, Gael and Sigris, to cover their front; given the sudden change of disposition the rusted one just had, he had concerns that the others might follow suit.

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

Rust. That... Wasn't right. There was a glimpse as the chains twisted and groaned beneath the gargantuan weight of the one armed beast. His arm still interlocked as thorns turned and twisted into it's single tar covered arm, a twist of his own as he turned the beasts arm over, Farzad's own free hand put behind him as he turned the magic in the air for another spell. He was quickly churning through the number of spells. He was confident the rest could handle the mounting numbers. He himself was never good at the whole control dealio anyway.

As the beast lumbered downwards, the enhanced magic that Kiros had provided proved a little short. This thing had bolted through a God and Farzad wasn't trained in how to use his body in such a manner. That and gravity. That pesky little force of reality that made the thing that was bigger and heavier, have a far greater advantage. He pushed forward with his one arm, turning it L-shaped to brace the beast back as the magic was fickle and danced in his fingertips, slowly lapping into letters into reality. He was finding his first Arcane Mastery to have some fairly great flaws. Mainly in that he wasn't able to move outside of the circle he had erected. Bigger next time maybe?

The behemoth of a thing burnt it's coal like eyes into Farzad as the final few words were being spelt, the letters turning yellow as his throny arm kept the demonic threat at bay, words uttered and chanted on his breath as the world seemed to swirl and alight with great power. His greatest power and everything he was confident he could muster from this spell.

La Fournae Da​

And as he chanted those words, the world was erupted with a great roar, as if he had summoned thunder and lightning together, sparks and electricity formed a circle between the letters, pushing them outwards as the spell concocted at first the head of a serpent, twin fangs bared on pure natural lightning, dancing through the air with great serpentine circles and scales of static bolts as it flung itself forward, the beast before it not it's prey but simply something standing in it's way as it bolted forward, Farzad's throned brambled arm still locking the beast in place as the serpent barrelled for it's head. Only a few bare inches from Farzad's own.

 

[Crows Call]

Farzad's spell caused the realm to once again ripple and rupture, this time more violently. As the rusted one's miasmic aura grew as the serpent he had summoned bit into flesh. It was answered by a great bears roar and a hideous laugh. In an instant the black mist dispelled showing a giant, feted, two-headed greatwolf, one head that the serpent coiled around was permanently twisted into a contorted smile and lacked any eyes, and the other bore a dower face with a single green eye, that remained locked on Farzad. It seemed to show a bit of clarity as it held no malice that was visible previously, yet it remained undeterred in it's advance.

As the serpent coiled around the beast, clawed skeletal arms broke upward from beneath the floor of the church, the ashen had tunneled beneath. The central mass of which the beast stood on gave way.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Hopes that they had finally emerged victorious were quashed when the abomination roared and changed forms in an instant; appearing now as a two-headed wolven horror. He held no clue what the thing was previously, and this development only bade further confusion. What was this behemoth before them? The priest felt fairly sure it wasn’t a god, despite the ominous form it shifted into. The War-Father referred to it as a parasite, and while the priestess expressed that she had no idea what it was; divine she called it not. She referred to it as his champion instead, which was the full extent of information Kiros currently held about it.

But the combat had come to a pause for the moment as the beast appeared content to leer upon them. Without further need of it, Kiros ceased the channelling of his blessing of might upon Farzad; it had long ceased it's usefulness. Looking upon the monstrosity, his gaze met each of the two heads in desperate wonder of what it truly was. That the thing's demeanour had changed yet again provided new information, vague as it was. Further, while he was prepared to cast his spell of insight, he wasn’t sure how it would react to magical scrying. Most beings, quite justifiably so, took offence to a mage snooping about and peering into their essence and arcane qualities.

While his incantation could anger it again, it could well return to its hostile state regardless. Should this be his only chance to gleam knowledge about the mysterious being, neither did he want to squander it. It was a dilemma; one that caused the priest to hesitate – but it only took an instant for it to become clear the gargantuan beast would not cease in its advance after all. With a prayer and sharp strike of his staff on the floor he invoked the spell, directing it upon the giant to unveil whatever it might; if anything.

"Eith’sis"

But before answers would be given, the floor beneath gave way to ashen hands that threatened both the wolven horror and Farzad; who had been toe to toe with the beast. An unhesitating arm reached out to grab him by the shoulder of his robes, pulling him back and away from the collapsing ground with all the strength he could physically summon. Stumbling to the ground in his effort to get away, Kiros could only watch as that which had fought them so fiercely dissipated beneath the church – a fraction of his attention waiting on what, if anything, his scrying might have revealed.

Farzad Oldsummer Crows Call