Pandemonium Those Beyond

6WVltJx.png

Alliria_pandemonium

"They itch.."

"You will adapt," came the simple reply to what had once been Rebecca. "This form fits your soul, it will learn to inhabit it."

Prethessia stood and picked a direction through the mists. Her determined gait suggested that she had a destination in mind.

"All of your kind must change, must Ascend. They will not survive here if they do not. But we must change too. Long ago - long before even the oldest of our kind began - we were the same."

There was a pause and a tickle at the back of Rebecca's mind as understanding was sought. Prethessia did not slow her pace, but glanced down at Rebecca. Even though she had joined the First Ascension it was not as easy to communicate with her as it was with her own kind.

"The same as your humans, your orcs, your elves and dwarves. All the same. All lost when the magic that held open the space-between-places collapsed. Your home is our home and we have forgotten how to live there. We Ascended to survive here."

They passed more of the pale, humanoid figures. They were stooped over, broad across the shoulder with squashed up faces. Yet they did not look so far removed from humanity. Some groveled on the floor as the pair passed them, others simply continued with their tasks.

"But we will reclaim our home. You are the key. You and every one of your kind that Ascends. You will teach us how to change so that we can return and stay."

They arrived at their destination. A wide circular clearing formed around something that pulsed with magic.

SVCkDmx.jpg


If Rebecca had ever seen one before, then she might recognise a portal stone at the centre of a convulsing organism. It's very nature had been corrupted by the thing that had grown around it. More shapes, more Ascendant moved around the clearing.

"Some of the magic that holds open the space-between-places returned long ago. Yet only now can we return in numbers. Once we have Ascended to survive there."

Prethessia stood tall, her demeanour changed as she gave her instruction to all those present: "Do not allow any of those who passed over to enter this place. Guard it to the last."



Eretejva_pandemonium Blightlands_pandemonium Spine_pandemonium

  • With each breath you feel your lungs burn. With every stride your strength is sapped. The air is different here. You were never meant to survive Pandemonium. Neither were its current denizens when they were abandoned here, but they learned the power of change. The power of Ascension.
  • Some may recognise that the magic that can be sensed is that of the portal stones that are dotted around Arethil, relics of a civilisation long gone.
  • Do you follow that or do you seek answers elsewhere in this chaotic land?

 
OP4SqH5.png

The Realm of Senpai
Eretejva_pandemonium Spine_pandemonium Blightlands_pandemonium

Amankh felt the world shift, his perception warped beyond the world of Arethil. The barren wasteland of the Blightlands gave way to a new environment, one of death. No, not death, decay. It felt as if the bog-like land was poisoned. Decrepit eye sockets, wisps of flowing sand in place of eyes, searched the landscape. A magic was present, strong and oddly familiar. "There is power, magical power, here. It seems to come from the direction the mist was expanding from when we entered it." A stagnant expression came to odds with the unsure voice that emanated from the undead. The feeling hearkened back to when he had first awoken from his tomb, and the grand empire which once pierced the sky and covered the sands now laid beneath them, unknown and uncared for, the world unfamiliar.

He halted the train of thought as a sudden, all-encompassing shadow enveloped the landscape. Peering past the limb-like branches and into the muddied sky, he saw the source: A collosus, with wings that threatened to grasp the earth they stood on. "Wherever we are, it is not on Arethil." He stared up for a few moments, simply observing the great winged beast. The sound of axes impacting wood brought his attention downward, watching as the army of undead set off deforestating the landscape. Considering the dense foliage and the spidery branches that snaked across the ground, making the land more compatible with a large army was a good idea. He oversaw the progress for the time being, in the meanwhile attempting to piece together any pieces of once forgotten lore that might enable him to understand where they are just a modicum of a bit more.

A psychic blast from Steve erupted suddenly, it's arrival unprecedented and without warning. However, shortly after it seemed connection that were once severed were now rebuilt, and the farmer returned to his previous state. The amount of noise they were causing was undesirable, especially in the unknown terrain they find themselves in, along with whatever it is that lurks behind the bushes and trees are. Demonic beasts, that was for sure. Filled with a confidence, they began to surge forward, a flood of twisted flesh and bone. The warriors tried to fend them off, but trickles continued to fall through the cracks in the defense. Amankh stabbed his staff into the ground, as the sand within him once more turned to a raging sandstorm, churning violently within the confines of the rags and bones of the mummy. The sand shot out, flowing through their ranks and aiming for the creatures which made it through their defenses. The wave of sand pulsed through them, a portion entering the lungs of the demons and choking them, while others simply used their velocity as a weapon, cutting into the skin of the abominations.

What came next was something much, much greater. A lumbering collosus, an amalgamation of limbs and tendrils that tore through the forest and their ranks. "Of course," Amankh replied to Eilasandree, still gazing at the creature. A moment later, he called the contingent to him, giving them a look over to assess their readiness. They were well-equipped, but not to the extent of taking on the collosus. He searched the landscape, trying to find anything that could aid in a potential escape.

It was then that he saw the human woman who was seemingly surrending to the Eternum, a scouting party by her. It seemed they were awaiting orders, orders that were likely forgotten to give in the midst of all this chaos. He beckoned forth two of the personal guard, saying, "Bring the human to me. We shall see if she knows more of this place, especially of an exit." The ornate guards nodded rigidly, immediately setting off to bring the surrendering human. The guards, once they made it to her, made the woman stand and began escorting her to Amankh, a cold silence permeating the walk.

In the meantime, Amankh was continued to wield the shifting sands, although he now held them in place, hovering in the air above the army. The cause of this momentary pause was the sudden unraveling and reformation of their warriors, who now began to fight off their prior allies. The collosus merely moved away with an unexpected quickness. At least that problem was temporarily fixed, although it seems to have caused a few more. Once the collosus left, the sand surged back into action, forming a sandstorm over the changed troops, assaulting them with fragments of sand.

The sound of shuffling armor and feet alerted him of the arrival of the escorted human. "Tell me: Who are you, and what do you know of this land? Particularly, of if there is an exit." The mummified skeleton turned around, still concentrating on the churning sandstorm behind him. The ragged and skeletal form locked eyes with the human, a ring of ornate guards surrounding him.
 
k0TeInB.png



ELBION


Faurosk stared at the growing pile of corpses at his feet, face growing pale from a combination of arcane fatigue and the primal terror incited by the band's ambushing foes. He stooped, then, and grabbed his staff from where he'd cast it to the ground, drawing the focus up to his side and focusing on the warding runes carved up its surface. His arm cried out in protest, pain shooting down each of his fingers from the burning wound on his wrist. Tears sprung up to his eyes in spite of his best efforts to endure the pain, and memories of the First Law's wounds came to mind; Something about the raw pain of the burn seemed to ring a bell.

By some miracle or another, the pain began to subside. Faurosk threw a quick glance over his shoulder just in time to see Anzian fall, evidently bleeding out in the mud. The other creatures followed suit to a similar fate, clawing piteously into the air as they died. The Redhead rushed to the body of the Bookworm, now vacant of life, and everything fell suddenly and oppressively black. A rush of wind passed by, and a mere moment later, the band was back.

The hairs on the back of Faurosk's neck pricked up to attention, and he leaned forward noticeably. Portal stones did tend to make him nauseous, after all... Wait a minute...

"Portal stone," the mage said, more thinking out loud than actually trying to share information. "Or, ah-... I don't know, something like it."

Talking was hard. Everything was hard. The air there went down coarse, but the mage breathed anyways, more out of necessity than comfort. Faurosk's theorizing ended, at least for the moment, as the weight of fatigue began to settle quite heavily upon his shoulders. It was funny, or so he thought. Usually, he could pull off much more impressive spells and not feel half as terrible as he did then.

Valkery spun into a speech, but the mage lost focus just as soon as she started speaking the Band of Idiot's collective praise. His gaze went back to the corpses.

Those he'd made. Those others had made. The creatures, their leader, all laid out in droves. And then there was the Bookworm, who rested as the single casualty on the other side of the fight. The Redhead stood over him, shattered staff hanging limply at her side. Her eyes seemed vacant, and Faurosk realized that she may be completely disarmed.

He approached, running his thumb once more over the runes engraved in his staff. He'd made it years before, carved by his own hands from wood he'd harvested himself. He was used to it, and it may as well have been used to him. Still, maybe he was feeling generous, or maybe he was a chauvinistic pig after all. The mage held the staff out to the Redhead, parallel to the ground between them.

"Here, you may need this." He gave the staff a half spin, holding it out in an upturned palm with his hand resting expertly at its point of balance. "It's made for abjuring, but you could probably put any spell through it, ah, if you need to." Faurosk tried to avert his gaze downward, not wanting to meet her vacant eyes, but he simply found himself looking upon the brutalized body of the Bookworm.

He swallowed once, looking off to the side where worms still wriggled in the muck. "I'm sorry for your loss. He was a good man to have wound up here."

The mage was too caught up in condolences to realize that the rest of the group was preparing to advance until Trajan called his name, prompting a response on Faurosk's part. "More men? I'm not certain I do understand, unless you mean for me to join your most daring of shield-walls. I think I may just sit that offer out, given that I have neither a shield nor a sword."

Elbion_pandemonium
 
OP4SqH5.png

THE REALM OF SENPAI
Blightlands_pandemonium

What was it with her and encountering beings of untold, but clearly ancient age? She did not know this being, but could tell he was important by his ornamentation. He was clearly undead,being a mummy, but far more substantial than any zombie, or skeleton. There was more than command behind his voice, but the will and experience to fortify it.

He also felt overwhelming, the energy he was exuding now in performing his magic made him heavy on the senses.

"I am Ynsidia 'Conjurer of The Ink' from Vel Anir; this land has only entrances, my Lord, many have clearly entered, but neither I and clearly neither yourself, have found a way out..." she started, regarding the colossal, tentacled nightmare being fought in the distance.

"The air here is stifling, wearying, burns within my chest each time I take it in. I feel sick just breathing it. Magic works differently when used here, at least for myself; it hurts every time I access it here, but I was able to conjure in self defense bypassing an important preliminary step of meditating one hour." she continued, rubbing the ink black mane of the 'unicorn' she was on.

"Magic is also present in the creatures I've encountered, and it seems they target the mind."

Ynsidia indicated puncture marks on her largely bare legs. Unkind wounds below her knees, and lifted her camisia enough to reveal more of the same wounds on her stomach.

"I encountered a creature here that used magic to trap me in a dream while it drained my blood..."

She looked over her shoulder, eyes resting on the ink pot harnessed to her back.

"Another delved into my mind, and lured me in with a deal to give me what I desired; this pot on my back. Her magic worked only when a deal was reached, allowing her to create this pot and the ink remaining within from dirt and stone. She made skin and features from some of my hair and all my finery...which is why I am before you now in not much more than chambers clothes."

Ynsidia turned her equally inky gaze back on Amankh.

"There's also a great magic here...and it feels both strong and familiar, I was following it when the din of your soldiers attracted my attention."

Talking was tiring, Ynsidia felt dizzy. All the exertions. All the encounters. The environment itself. She wanted to sleep...or something deeper.

"My Lord, I can offer you no more than what I've said...I am unsure how long I've been here myself, and I have not come far."

She looked at the gigantic monster being fought, and closed her eyes.

"This is their world, my Lord; they have names, faces, and wills...and I don't know if there is a way out, to escape them..."
 
Steve could not help but feel at fault for what was going on. He was the one who lost control, and brought the strange creatures here. It was his fault that so many lives had been wiped out. It did not matter that they were undead their lives still mattered to Steve, and so many had been wasted. Whatever the colossi had done to Eilasadree's dead was proving to be a problem. The masses of flesh they now now fought were of poor design even by Steve's standards, they gained strength only through the sheer amount of bodies forced together in each one. They had no real love, nor care put into creating them, clearly made by something without any real appreciation for life. The fact that these were not creature shaped by the gods, nor shaped carefully by man to fit his purpose, but instead just flesh stuck together and given life, the indifference towards their created existence struck a cord within Steve, and he had only himself to blame for causing their cursed existence.

Steve, head held low, slowly walked towards his chimera, one thought going through his head, "This was my fault, I have to fix this." it repeated with each step he took. Steve stood before the chimera, and the pot of stew which still bubbled softly showing that it was still hot enough to boil. Steve hesitated a moment as he steeled his resolve, turned to Eilasandree, and with tears in his eyes sobbed, "I am so sorry", and hopped in the massive pot. A scream pierced through the camp, lasting only a moment before Steve's head submerged with the rest of him. A few seconds past with nothing, but the combat against the new flesh beasts going on, but then something began to happen.

First all of Steve's chickens surrounded the cauldron, then every dead body, bone, and nail that was no longer animated began to fly towards the cauldron, each in turn entering the concoction. Suddenly one of the chickens hoped in, after a few seconds a large boney hand came out of the stew, and grasped the side of the pot, pulling itself out. The creature was roughly 3m/10ft tall, sinew thinly covered the thin boney structure, spikes came from its form in non symmetrical ways. The face looked avian as it had a beak, but the rest of the body resembled a man's skeleton. All thirty Chickens went in one by one, and thirty similar monsters crawled out. Once the last one had come out, the first one reached in, and after a moment pulled something out of the stew. It cradled the shaking body of a new creature. This new beast, unlike the skeletal beings, had a face that was clearly that of a bird's, and besides the wings instead of arms, had a body of a man. It did however have horrible burns all over its body, and lacked any hair or feathers.
proxy.php
proxy.php

The second entity was rocked softly, while it just remained in a fetal position just softly sobbing. It eventually weakly, and with a shaking voice pointed towards the attacking mounds of flesh and let out a, "a-a- A Bwaaak" before returning to its sobbing. The first of the large entities placed the smaller one next to the chimera, which protectively surrounded it, before, after looking back at the small entity one last time, charging the nearest mound of flesh. The giant bent down swinging its long claw like fingers through the mound slicing it, flesh and bone, to bits. The others of its kind moved around to do battle with the other mounds that still gave the party trouble.
 
Things went wrong quite fast. Just as the army began to seemingly gain the upper hand, the monstrosity played its own. Such magic was... unexpected, to say the least, as Eila saw the bodies of her troops meld together and change, in ways that defied even the most basic principles of magic. Large aberrations, piles of flesh and bone and should not be replaced where row upon row of undead soldiers had once stood, and soon set about ripping apart their former comrades as if in a frenzy whilst the colossus retreated faster than anything of that size had any right to be, the presence of Magnan fading with it as she caught a glimpse of the titanic lich clinging onto a sword embedded within the thing's back, if it even had something that could be called a 'back'. Dismissing the thought for now, the banshee turned to focus upon these new monsters as she reached out through her magic. Her connection had been cut with such overwhelming force that she knew she hadn't had the slightest chance to resist, but there was a small part of her that hoped... yes! The monsters' souls were untouched! Her mark was still there!

Before she could do anything with that information however, she heard some mumbling coming from her right. Looking over, her eyes widened in surprise to see the farmer... crying? What? She watched, almost fascinated and definitely confused, until he began to climb into his pot. Then she realised. "Steve! No!" She cried out, anger and no small tinge of desperation filling her voice as she watched his head sink beneath the lip of the cauldron, followed by a storm of bone and flesh shards, left over from the colossus' rampage as they, and the multitude of chickens the farmer came with, flew into the pot. What came out was... horrifying. 31 titans, resembling the chickens that had so eagerly entered the pot, began to fight back against the mounds of flesh. "No! Stop! Go back!" Eilasandree screamed, voice hoarse from her banshee's wail as they fought. She was so distracted by this that she almost missed the final creation to exit the pot. It was as if the monsters that came prior had had a stillborn. Sickly, gaunt, decayed and keening pitifully as it sobbed, a sound so heart wrenching it threatened to move the ancient elf to tears. But she could not focus on it at that point. She needed to focus on the now. "STOP!" She cried, voice echoing a thousand times in a single second as a pulse of purple and pink energy flooded from her form.

The energy collided with both the chicken monsters and the ones formed by the colossus, wrenching control of the beasts and reestablishing the necromantic connections within them, bringing all undead touched by the wall of power to a grinding, paralysing halt for all but a few seconds, before the effect faded and the army was left confused, the towering monsters sitting there idly in the wind. Eilasandree, for her part, swayed in her seat. She was... numb. It was... hard to thi... things...Her red eyes faded, leaving only milky white, as the banshee slumped face forward onto her undead mount.
 
THIRD LOCATION
Eretejva_pandemonium Blightlands_pandemonium Spine_pandemonium
Luna Slateforge Sannoru Valthar

Emerging from a mess of wilting tendrils and rotting flesh, Sigrith stood looking as petulant as an approaching snow gale. The Tundra Witch shook from her form the squirming remnants of corruption, sloughing the dark, sticky ochre away like a second skin of slime. She was careful not to touch her face, feeling it to be free of the mess and eternally grateful for such luck and quick thinking on the stranger's part.

By the time the second onslaught of beasts retreated she had gathered her wits about her and reclaimed her own sword, wiping it in the snow. A second sword, one she'd witnessed Luna using earlier, was pulled from the melting carcass. Sigrith said nothing as the young Nordenfiir lobbed an accusation at the stranger, but she knew the truth of things before Luna's words sounded to defend herself.

The air shifted, the snow beneath their feet disappeared. Sigrith's strange gaze cast about, looking towards Sannoru as she called after and giving her a nod. Yes, she would manage. Her gaze landed then on Luna as she neared her, offering the woman back her sword.

"Thank you," spoke the Witch to the woman, well aware that no other here in this clearing was likely capable of casting such a ward of protection. Then, without a word, she bent down, pulled Luna's free arm over her shoulders, and heaved her to her feet.

"We should not linger," Sigrith called out to those surrounding them, "there is a portal stone nearby-"

"Rubbish, there's no portal stone this far north," said one of Valthar's companions.

Greenand purple eyes surveyed their surroundings: a murky bog stinking of decay and corruption. "We're not north anymore," Sigrith growled in return, straining against her own bleeding wound as she helped Luna along, glancing once more upwards at Sannoru from her perch, "What do you see, Kulean?"
 
Last edited:
Eretejva_pandemonium Blightlands_pandemonium

"If I look like Im in any condition to be teleporting people then I look far better than I feel."

»Teleportation of this extent is not magic of mortals, « suddenly scoffed the wolf out of the blue. before trotting towards the middle of the happening.

"We should not linger," Sigrith called out to those surrounding them, "there is a portal stone nearby-"

Valthar might have replied to Sigrith, but he was busy waving his axe in the direction of her wolf. The weapon wasn't being used in a threatening manner; it was merely the tool to hand to wave in its direction.

"The wolf speaks..." he muttered under his breath.

Valthar had been surrounded by strange magics, fought a corrupted Svalen, battled demons and been teleported to a hellish landscape. Apparently the eloquent statement from a wolf was the straw that broke the camel's back. He wanted to go back to his roundbottom fishing boat and be back on the gently waters.

He looked back towards Sigrith but there was no comprehension on his face. Sounds in the distance drew his gaze away. The shadow of a great behemoth could be seen in the distance, battling the undead host.

His uncle clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.

"I hope the stone isn't in that direction!" Haandel grunted. "Which way?"

Valthar was brought back around by the slap. He turned towards Luna, briefly bowing his head.

"I am sorry," he apologised for the accusation.
 
6WVltJx.png


ALLARIA WHERE THERE IS NO SENPAI ONLY DEATH

As the monsters fell away from the Alliria crew, another one stepped forward. He towered in size over the others, a giant in his own right. His center mass was the core of a human body. Only his head remained, his arm and legs dissolved into tentacles that webbed out to control the exoskeleton composed of muscle and razor sharp limbs.

His minions, for that's what they clearly were, fell back as one behind him. They moved like vibrating bees, following unspoken commands to regroup around what some might recognize as a portal stone. They were defending it, some moving towards it a disappearing from sight.

Your world is ours. You will ascend.

It voice licked it's way through the minds of the new arrivals (that be you Alliria crew). Following the voice that invaded their minds was the strange urge to step forward and submit. Its intensity was different for every individual, though still undeniably there.

There was no greater joy than ascending~ No greater pleasure~

The sensation cooed, stroking its way through them.

Come now... ascend...~

It took an almost gentle step forward, head tilting as it observed their response.



Rebecca, it called, the words only reaching her. Come here. Show them what they have to look forward to.

proxy.php


Alliria_pandemonium Rebecca Fourtuna
 
Last edited:
  • Yay
Reactions: Baise and Lia
k0TeInB.png

Mitsy couldn’t help but chuckle at Cornelius’s levity despite the situation that they were in, her golden eyes resting on the demon in front of them. Between the strikes, they made quick work of it, and the Kitsune brushed splattered black blood off of her cheek with the back of her hand, grimacing a little bit. Gross, demon guts. Iew.

Before they had time to enjoy their victory, whatever it meant, they found themselves… somewhere. Somewhere that reeked even worse than the mist, and a full body shiver ran itself through the white-haired woman as her senses were assaulted by wrongness. The ground was wet and squelching, still, but not the dangerous sucking quicksand, so she lightly dropped to her feet, freeing up her hands by tucking her tonfa back in their sheaths at the small of her back.

It gave her ample opportunity to produce that flask again, downing all but the last swallow of the liquid inside.

Her eyes were on the pale figure standing on the path in front of them, watching it with a single-minded intensity, trying to judge for herself how quickly she could get to it and hit it with one of her tonfa… at least, until Fancy-hat and then Bossman called them back to attention. Something behind them? She couldn’t tell what. The sounds in this place were weird, muted but also echoey at the same time.

She inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly -- feeling the tingle of her Kitsune-bi in her throat. It tasted… off. This whole place was utter shit, in her booze-clouded opinion.

“Right. Towards the pile of rocks and hoping we don’t get ambushed and murdered by what’s behind us. Grand,” she muttered, half to herself, half to Cornelius.

Drawn from her morose views by Faurosk’s statement, she clapped him on the back. Probably harder than was necessary. ‘Restraint’ was not one of her strong suits. “Hey, Tidbit, you’re pretty handy with that knife. Might I recommend you stand near Goldilocks, here?” She jerked her finger at Cornelius, with a chuckle. “He’s a great meatshield, you’re a great stabby-rock-shooty-type, maybe you’ll manage to not die.”

With those introductions made, Mitsy slid her tonfa into her hands once again, turning to face the pale creature ahead of them. She could feel the tingle of magic stronger in that direction, and with Trajan’s mercenaries behind them… seemed straightforward to her. She grinned that toothy grin again, golden eyes flashing with this predatory air as she regarded the figure along the path.

“Imma go say hi with the business end of my tonfa.”

Elbion_pandemonium
 
IKH266l.png

Falwood_pandemonium | Spine_pandemonium | Eretejva_pandemonium | Blightlands_pandemonium

"REJOICE!"

A voice boomed through the ethos. It did not sound in the air, did not echo through the valleys or call over the mountains. No, it resounded through the minds of both living and dead, calling out like a thunderstorm. It rang continuously, the sound both ecstasy and agony.

There was a sweetness to the tone, and ebbing honey that flowed away with the last echo in the mind.

"For you are on a path."

The voice called out once more, but something strange happened as it did. The ground seemed to shift, the air began to shimmer. Everything within sight seemed to change just slightly, and then the earth began to move.

From seeming nothing the creatures that had been within the mist rose once more. The horrid sights of twisted and broken things came into being once more before them all. Some were small, some were large, yet three stood out among even those.

One stood before the armies of the Eternum. A figure in mocking of a man, shrouded in a great cloak of black and wrapped in armor made of flesh and bone. Within it's hand sat a hammer twice the size of what any man could carry, that black shifting cloak seemed to cling to it, flames burning like they should not.

The Second rose before the Northmen and those among them. A horrid and twisted thing, a reptile thrice the size of even the largest bear, twisted and mangled wings long ago rotted upon it's back. It's massive jaws lay opened, jagged teeth and a blackened tongue extending as it let out a roar. A gem of stark purple sat within it's skull, tendril like veins extending from it's core into the broken creatures flesh.

It was the last of the three that did not pull itself from the earth, the one that did not free itself of the ground. No. From within the air itself, out of a haze of clouds and sky came a beast. Blackened wings tore through the air, cutting through the haze as a mangled creature appeared within the sky. It's flesh was a mockery of feathers, it's head a derision of a once proud eagle. The creature screamed as it dove towards the earth, razor claws flaring, an odd tassel running from it's tail.

Yet as the creatures appeared, that sweet voice rang within the minds found beyond the mist once more. It called, delight pouring through it's tone.

"A path to ascension."

It called. It sang.

"Join us. Join me. Become what you were meant to be."
 
IKH266l.png

Falwood_pandemonium | Spine_pandemonium | Eretejva_pandemonium | Blightlands_pandemonium

Rice heard a new voice rinning in her head. The arguing stopped. She stopped crying. She looked up. New monsters were rising from the ground and swooping down from the sky. And still, there was that new voice in her head telling her to ascend.

"Ascend?" she muttered, not sure if she was asking the new voice or her old voices.
Yes! NO. Both of her voices said at once. Give me control and I will protect you. Tmooma said. No, if you accend you will become powerful, then you can defend yourself. Eoliaf countered. "But I don't want more power... I might hurt someone again..." Rice muttered. You ungrateful child, I did you a favor. Who has kept you alive this entire time when all of your so-called human friends turned on you and wanted to burn you at the stake. It was me so don't go getting any ideas or I will let you die next time. Eoliaf spat. You will do no such thing. We both know that if she dies you will be at my mercy, you need her alive. Tmooma bellowed. I apologize but this is for your own good. He said to Rice more gently as he forced his way to the front. He was now in control of the body. He flexed his fingers and looked down at his tinnie hands.

"Guess, I'll just have to make due," he shrugged drawing a short sword from under their robes and squaring his shoulders. Now that he was in the body he could feel a burning sensation with every breath, this feeble human body would not be able to survive long in this world. He needed to get them to the portal stone and get them back to Arethil.
 
6WVltJx.png


Scarlet Alliria_pandemonium

Prethessia stood tall, her demeanour changed as she gave her instruction to all those present: "Do not allow any of those who passed over to enter this place. Guard it to the last."
Rebecca nodded vigorously as another voice tickled her mind.

"Rebecca,"
it called, the words creeping into her brain.
"Come here. Show them what they have to look forward to."

She gave Prethessia a longing look obviously not wanting to leave her side before her bloodlust and thirst for action seemed to pull even harder than her loyalty as she turned and hissed at the lower demon spawn around to give her room as she leaped with cat like grace through the otherworldly bog like she was made for it.
Her form seemed to disappear as her scales flared up. Her ears picked up movement as her glowing yellow eyes cut through the mist finding the group.
She landed next to the behemoth lightly on all fours barely making a sound. Her form came into full view as her scales retracted. She looked almost exactly as she had in the village besides her cat ears. Her tail stayed behind her her keeping out of sight as a spine dripping venom began slowly extending from it ready to be fired.
"Yes my friends..The peace is everlasting. Your true form matching your soul. A chance to truly be on the outside what you are on the inside. A change necessary for survival." She said calmly raising to stand on her legs.
 
IKH266l.png


"Your welcome young one."
She said simply with her usual soft and neutral tone. Her features remained un changed as she accepted her sword and sheathing it. When Sigrith reached to to help her up Luna flinched hard not expecting a helping hand.
The feelings of dread and decay that seemed to emanate from her kept most from getting closer than a few feet. However she was eternally grateful as her legs felt weak. She would feel cold as a corpse to Sigrith's touch as she limped alongside the witch. She glanced at the shadows of the behemoths battling when it was pointed out by Haandel. "I think not. I feel the defenses would be far more than that." She said as she pushed Sigrith away gently and fell into a sitting position next to a fallen Nordenfiir. She looked up as the fisherman offered his apologies.

"There is no apology nessicarry my child."
She said softly as she pulled out small ceremonial hunting dagger with runes etched into the black steel. A metal skull sat at the bottom of the handle its mouth agape as Luna drove the dagger into the dead man's heart. With a few muttered words blood suddenly began to flow from the skulls mouth and began to flow down the dagger and seemed to make a beeline for her book as it began to glow once more. a chill seemed to creep up even the most stalwart warriors spine however briefly.
Luna slumped as her eyes rolled back into her head and she gave an immense spine twisting convulsion before laying still as the dead man next to her. She didnt gasp for air as her eyes opened. They glowed a dark purple with no whites or pupil to speak of. The brands on her hands seemed to radiate cold as she rose to her feet slowly.
"Sorry. I was just too interested to take a back seat."
She said with a chuckle in a voice that seemed warm and pleased to be where they were. Luna was known as the ghost of the tundra. The woman of no emotion. Tales told around campfires stated in her years in the tundra no one had ever even heard her raise her voice or even smile. Ever.

A voice rang out in her mind, calling for ascension, calling for rejoicing. Luna would have none of it. Even as the lizard rose she chuckled good naturedly. "That's a lot bigger than a bear." She said glancing at Sigrith's broad sword.
"I Think you may need a bigger sword if you plan on cleaving that eh witch.?"
She said before bursting into another gail of giggles at her own joke, but even as she seemed as if she had some what lost it an aura of death and danger seemed to radiate from her as deeply as the cold.
Something had just drastically changed inside her, but what exactly that entailed remained to be seen it seemed.
 
IKH266l.png


From how long she's been hearing things, this seemed much different. »The wilds speak, of ascension.«


»I hear, I hear it too, and I sense strong magic comming from from there, it's alluring, but I wonder if it's a trap.« pointed out Mk-Garul as he unknowingly pointed towards a portal stone.

»But do you hear that too,« Ubabe pointed out.

»A battle,« declared Sheeha
»Yeah.«
 
As the monsters fell away from the Alliria crew, another one stepped forward. He towered in size over the others, a giant in his own right. His center mass was the core of a human body. Only his head remained, his arm and legs dissolved into tentacles that webbed out to control the exoskeleton composed of muscle and razor sharp limbs.

His minions, for that's what they clearly were, fell back as one behind him. They moved like vibrating bees, following unspoken commands to regroup around what some might recognize as a portal stone. They were defending it, some moving towards it a disappearing from sight.

Your world is ours. You will ascend.

It voice licked it's way through the minds of the new arrivals (that be you Alliria crew). Following the voice that invaded their minds was the strange urge to step forward and submit. Its intensity was different for every individual, though still undeniably there.

There was no greater joy than ascending~ No greater pleasure~

The sensation cooed, stroking its way through them.

Come now... ascend...~

It took an almost gentle step forward, head tilting as it observed their response.

6WVltJx.png

Alliria_Pandemonium

Felix definitely heard the voice in his head, either it was magic or a powerful psionic demon. But there was also an attempted compulsion to obey the words. He was not fazed by the command, evidently his will strong enough to resist the demon, but others were not so fortunate and began stepping forward.

"Don't be taken in by the lies of the demon. Stay strong and we will escape this purgatory."

He stepped forward, but in defiance. He hoped his words could reach some of the men and snap them out of the spell, but their best hope was to deal with the demon to remove any control. But then the corrupted girl approach the group, seeming normal for now, but with some alterations.

She landed next to the behemoth lightly on all fours barely making a sound. Her form came into full view as her scales retracted. She looked almost exactly as she had in the village besides her cat ears. Her tail stayed behind her her keeping out of sight as a spine dripping venom began slowly extending from it ready to be fired.
"Yes my friends..The peace is everlasting. Your true form matching your soul. A chance to truly be on the outside what you are on the inside. A change necessary for survival." She said calmly raising to stand on her legs.

He approached Rebecca Fourtuna. His sword wasn't drawn but he wasn't stepping forward in compliance either.
"My body already reflects my soul. You have been changed, but this is a perversion of your true soul. This is not peace, this is corruption."
 
IKH266l.png


»I see the battle as well, I suggest we do not go there.«
The elf peered with the delicate eyes, watching the happening with hteir own eyes from this high perch, undisturbed by the masseso f the trees.. »My...«
The dire wolf's eyes narrowed.
»They are the Gjenfrid.«
A type of undead that walks outside it's tomb unlike the draugr, some term san stole from the western lands.

»Right of us...The people of the oni,« sannoru muttered loudly, somewhat surprised as their eyes gazed upon the group of ashlanders. »With humans...«
As a dark elf of Kootahi, there were none ever to see natively, and those raiders from the blightlands were quick to gain a level of mistique with their fearsome presence and barbaric savagery.

»We should not bother with them,«
muttered Sannoru in their usual fashion.

In the brief spot of quiet, sannoru was able to clear their mind, didn't they feel somewhat more exhausted as they climbed the tree? A feat so effortless to do to the wolf, yet every breath they took was cutting. What is that that they hear?
/Ascension?/

Sannoru heaved and gagged, for anyone that ever worked with these underground dwelling elves, one of the best companions in mines, that was quite a sight for miners to look out for.
»The-air-is-bad!«
These elves were absolutely sensetive to every slight change in the air, even if most had not felt the wear over time yet that would be wrought upon their bodies and lungs.
 
6WVltJx.png


Jair stepped forward too, not to attack, he took another step toward the behemoth. He heard the Ranger of Armon talking to the feline creature, and he let his anchor stop swinging, and it slowed down till it dangled more or less by his ankles. He took another step forward. He didn't look at his compatriots, but he started cinching up the rope attached to the anchor letting it pass through his hands, he let the chain run through his hand next till he was gripping the shank of the anchor. He took another step closer to the giant, and another. Each step deliberate, each step plodding.

Jair heard the words in his head, the same he had resisted some time ago.

He stepped closer ignoring the Ranger of Armon he figured his smaller compatriots could handle the feline creature.

He stepped closer still, letting the anchor stop swinging, and dangle near his feat so he could get closer.

Even closer he stepped, his anchor was a flailing weapon, meant to attack at a distance he cinched up into his hand, gripping the shank.

He was very near the behemoth now, he saw its human torso, and head controlling blades, where arms, and hands were meant to be.

He saw blackened pupils where they might have been blue, green, hazel, or brown.

Then he erupted, moving with a boxers grace hopefully passed the behemoths bladed arms, swing a very heavy handed right anchor weighted cross at the behemoth, and just for even more fun surprises, he let the anchor fly at the end of his punch length!!

"YOU ARE NOT ASCENDED! YOU HAVE BEEN MADE WEAPONS!!! FIGHT EM OFF!!!" The Giant shouted as he sprung his hopeful trap.

@Alliria_Pandemonium
 
Last edited:
ujKqWW6.png

Eretejva_pandemonium


These cycles of thrones and crowns…How long will you permit yourself and the people you care about to be locked in this endless melodrama?

Vand stood at the edge of the hill, his gaze affixed on the purple twilight. But he was not truly seeing it. Glimpses of memories he never had, strung on lines of voices he had never heard. He was hurting, but without the pain – There were no nerves that could perceive this alien wound. He could simply feel his body yearn for health – It knew it was infected.

On the whites of his eyes, little black flowers bloomed in rows along his little black veins. In his hands, a small parchment, complete with an outline of the troubles regarding some missing hunting bands and a mysterious mist.

Vand decided he no longer had any time for letters.

Behind him, the herrevan ruuk was already in flames.

It is the world that shapes you into what you are. Its limits, its demands. How can you become free from yourself when you cannot even separate from the institutions that control you?

It was by his own design, of course. He had already sent Doggrave along, burying the trail and dismantling the roadsigns that made travel to Withereach at all hospitable. If you didn’t know where it was before, you sure as hell wouldn’t find it now. The town was to be cut free from tethers of Nordenfiir politics, much as the younger generation had gone adrift of their Svalen. Here, stewing in their juices, they would take on new flavors. The people of Withereach would mutate into something more…wellsomething else.

Or else they would simply die.

Terrified herrevan fell from the sky, plucked from the lavender all-around by the well-placed arrows of a warrior population. It was the very treason the birds had always suspected was coming from the bearfolk, and if they had the self-awareness, they would have screamed at themselves and their forebearers for not staying as far away from these monster people as they fucking could.

But that hardly mattered anymore -- Poultry would be the meal of evening, black feathers the fashion of the season.

Do you dare, Free One? Do you dare to see what might lurk outside this senseless loop-spin of pastiche and personality disorder?

Vand let this idea marinate in his brain, in his mouth; black saliva washing over his teeth, highlighting every spacing in thick, abyssal ink. His silicosis would force him to cough, sputtering some of it out into the mud-snow.

Embrace this mutation. Slip the leash….and let the tribe evolve.

In the months following the plateau of his story, Vand’s condition had grown worse. His once-apparent beauty had darkened, sinister black veins visible in his face, his eyes, his vascularity -- his general countenance taking on rotten new hues. The skull-mask never came off anymore, and some speculated that whatever it is that had him now adhered it to his face.

Slowly, treading the pencil-thin boundaries of the uncanny valley, his head rolled along his shoulders to look at Signe, who had not failed to undergo her own kind of metamorphosis. Her visage of the Maiden made fewer and fewer appearances these days, favoring instead the Mother. She looked at him with deep concern, even a hint of trepidation. Vand needed help, but she was at a complete loss.

“…what’s happening to me?,” he muttered, a voice lost, escaping from a fog.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Signe worried for him.
 
Last edited:
IKH266l.png

Eretejva_pandemonium Blightlands_pandemonium

The Second rose before the Northmen and those among them. A horrid and twisted thing, a reptile thrice the size of even the largest bear, twisted and mangled wings long ago rotted upon it's back. It's massive jaws lay opened, jagged teeth and a blackened tongue extending as it let out a roar. A gem of stark purple sat within it's skull, tendril like veins extending

The witch had called him a child. Odd, he thought, that he mentally paused to be mildly offended by the remark by the young woman in the midst of this.

Having come to terms with a talking wolf, Valthar found himself in agreement. With everything else that was going on it seemed a sensible idea to keep their distance from the undead army. Unfortunately not everything in this dark place was going to keep away from them.

The air burned his lungs on each breath. At first he had thought it was the hot humid air. He wasn't struggling like the wolf, but he could feel his strength being sapped. Would it be so bad to give in to that voice rolling through the mists?

"Valthar, move!" his uncle's call was followed by a firm shove. They were lining up again, the hunting spears they still had pointing towards the reptilian creature approaching. If there was a portal stone where could they go? It was a long journey from the mainland back to his home town, but it could not be worse than staying here.
 
NOTICE ME SENPAI
The redhead found herself facing a grouping of orcs, with a child amongst them that began to sob at the sight of her, plus through the mists she could hear the sounds of others moving amongst the murky landscape. This wasn’t the world she had grown up in, that was for sure, and the orc in front of her spoke to her in a slow, stuttering accent. She held up one finger, indicating that he should wait, squeezing her eyes shut.

Okay, focus, Verys. Pay attention. She knew this, she just had to close one mental book and open another, turning the pages in her brain. And when she spoke again, it was in Orcish -- she hoped it was the right one, so many clans had their own dialect, but it was the one she’d learned during her time in Bhathairk, so she was hoping it was at least more recognizable to him than a human language. Her accent was odd, but she’d been told it wasn’t too difficult to understand her… at least, by the nice orcs in Bhathairk. This wasn’t the same situation at all, but here was hoping.

“Ah… I … came here. In blood fog. Like you?” she gestured at the others orcs, then gestured at the other human in their midst, a lone redheaded child. “Not mother! No, sorry. I--”

Right about then, there come a voice. Wait, did it count as a voice if it was in her head? It was like… a telepathic communication, over a great distance. Incredible, She immediately flipped her journal open and scribbled something furiously in the open page in front of her, muttering under her breath as she did so. Back to her native language, but she doubted the orcs would be listening to her anyways.. She was transcribing what was being said. Because, of course she was… especially as two other creatures appeared, and those were others from their world she'd seen moving in throughout the haze and gloom, so good to know --

And then a giant winged creature appeared from the haze of clouds overhead coming towards them specifically and Verys stared up at it, before letting out a gasp of delight.

“Well, look at that! Oh it’s mutated! By the climate? By the magic in the realm? Oh wow, if I could get my hands on a feather --” she started, but then it was diving and she was right in its path and that hardly seemed useful to continued exploration, so she sort of scrambled back behind a nearby stump.

Which, of course, was the perfect place to prop open her journal, dabbing her nib into the inkwell still tucked into her cleavage so she could sketch the eagle-creature-thing. Ascended-thing. Oh this was so fascinating!

Blightlands_pandemonium Falwood_pandemonium Eretejva_pandemonium
 
IKH266l.png

It was the last of the three that did not pull itself from the earth, the one that did not free itself of the ground. No. From within the air itself, out of a haze of clouds and sky came a beast. Blackened wings tore through the air, cutting through the haze as a mangled creature appeared within the sky. It's flesh was a mockery of feathers, it's head a derision of a once proud eagle. The creature screamed as it dove towards the earth, razor claws flaring, an odd tassel running from it's tail.

Spine_pandemonium Falwood_pandemonium

There were threats everywhere. The air burned his lungs, demons moved in the mists, things whispered poisoned promises into his mind, the human girl seemed to be taken by madness and drew a sword, and a mighty creature descended towards them.

Which, of course, was the perfect place to prop open her journal, dabbing her nib into the inkwell still tucked into her cleavage so she could sketch the eagle-creature-thing. Ascended-thing. Oh this was so fascinating!

The threats were not quite everywhere...

Hath had learned to appreciate why Scabhair documented her travels. A book could last just as long as a tale passed down from generation to generation. However, he had never seen her try and document the dangers they faced whilst they faced them.

Hath dropped to one knee. He hoped it would make him a smaller target for the talons of the flying monster. In one smooth motion he drew his back, knowing that he was down to just six arrows now. He loosed and was down to five. The arrow struck the creatures wing and became stuck fast, yet it didn't bring it from the sky.
 
  • Yay
Reactions: Verys Synsere
6WVltJx.png

Alliria_pandemonium

That had been unexpected. Smaller lizards that Xoknath had caught with his siblings and the other orcs from the fortress back in their youth, sure, they could abandon their tails in a pinch, but larger creatures tended to hold firmly to all their appendages. This one not only stabbed him with the spine, but abandoned her tail entirely to escape before the proper thrashing could begin, leaving the mighty orc dumbstruck as he stumbled backwards several steps, tail in hand wriggling with the last spasming commands of the host who had abandoned it for her own safety.

The spine pierced his dense musculature like a knife, something he could take in a fight, but instead was left with as an annoyance as the enemy scurried away just like the other monsters. The mighty orc stopped and considered for a moment as the tail finally found its death without body, settling limply in his grasp, the spine stuck into his meat looking like some inadvisable fashion statement.

The naga he had pulled off the monster slithered closer, but the mighty orc batted her hands away from him, unsure of the intent behind her motions, "Off of me, snake!"

Naga and. . . Well, as he had learned, just about everybody had relationship problems. They kept raiding and abducting people, and though this one seemed to actually somehow understand the common tongue, that did little to bridge the divide between those who moved on tails versus those with two legs. Whatever was going on, the naga might be on their side for now, but Xoknath still was not going to let one put its hands all over him.

He ripped the tail from his shoulder with a casual movement, wincing slightly more at the expectation of pain than any sensation of it. Actually, he felt little at all from the stab wound, more like the dull expectation of what should have been pain, and even for his tolerance, that was not exactly normal. Before long his shoulder was starting to feel numb, followed not long-after by his arm.

He tried flexing, but it was an alien sensation, the muscles trying to tighten but barely bulking past their normal thickness. His arm was sluggish, barely responsive, and felt floaty. Some sort of poison was trying its best with him, but he was far from the normal size of your average orc, let alone human. There was a lot of blood and muscle it would have to work its way through to stop him, but it could do its best to slow him down if they got into another fight before it was done.

At least that was all it was. Xoknath lifted the tail up and examined it, narrowing his blood-red eyes at the thing before throwing it over a shoulder, the thick fur he wore more than enough to keep it from hurting him without intention. Now, the orc had a chance to look at how the world had changed around them.

Or. . . Either the world had changed, or they had changed worlds. He was. . . At least fairly certain that he had not been poisoned with anything that would make him see anything abnormal, and since the other people within looked mostly as they had before, save for battle wounds and a change in lighting, he was slowly beginning to feel a little more confident in that assumption.

There were still monsters out and about, watching them, wary since the group had managed to kill their way to this new bog of a place, with what looked like large dead logs where the trees had once been, and even bigger monstrosities in the distance. It made the orc feel uneasier than the poison that seemed to have found its furthest reaches before it could affect his mind. Somehow, through the clearing of the mists, they had acquired new allies beside the naga female.

Then, a new monster arrived. Large, like a man in a suit of armor too large for him, like his flesh had grown to adapt to it in the most grotesque of ways possible. It. . . Spoke without speaking, words echoing in the mighty orc's mind, something of ascension with a promising feeling, but the orc remained weary, his adrenaline died down but he still felt uneasy, the venom slowed him but he still felt like there was a threat.

Then the girl monster returned, the one whose tail Xoknath currently held over his shoulder like a whip ready to punish, but he was not eager to get into a fight so soon after the last one, so soon after getting the numbing toxin in him. He listened to her words actually spoken more than he held onto the ones that had echoed in his mind from the bigger thing. Jair could handle it, but if they were following through into another fight so soon, he wanted a match with that smaller one.

He removed his battle axe from the ground and glared at the girl monster, bringing her old discarded tail like a whip against the ground before walking off to the side, sneering. The tail dragged behind him like a bloody reminder of what happened recently, the grasp he had her in that she escaped in such a bloody fashion.

The monsters offered a reflection of true self, but the albino called it a corruption. Apparently either way, there was change at foot, but it confused him to consider, his own self already being a hulking mass of orc, a brute even among a race of brutes, large, imposing, and strong. Corruption, maybe, but what else? People had a habit of insulting things, they insulted him, they insulted him when he chose to leave his fortress, they insulted him for being a big green beast of an orc. He never minded, it was easy not to mind when you were sure you were making the best choices.

Yet, that was part of the problem. His problem here, there, now, and then. Orcs were naturalists by nature, but also somewhat simple. Many orcs believed they could already change through becoming more attuned to nature, but others claimed it was just a magical adaption. To sniff better, to hear better, for some to even turn into beasts. If this was a change like that, would it be considered natural by the other orcs, an abomination, or barely considered at all? Was this cheating, skipping ahead to the end, or was it just a quicker way?

"Change, like what? I can get poison from a beast." He growled out the question past his tusks at her, holding the girl's tail off the ground for her to consider as he spoke, for either he or the big one to consider as he spoke, "Look at me. How could I be more myself than I already am, huh? Biggest of the orcs! Eyes of bloody fury! Voice like thunder! Swings like siege weapons! Stomps like earthquakes! Skin like armor! Bones like iron! Your tail woulda stopped anybody else but the giant, but here I am, axe in hand! What more to me is there?"

He wanted an answer, wanted to know if there really was more. The venom might not have stopped him, but he could still feel the sluggishness, especially on his right arm, which was why he was keeping his axe in his left. He would not run from a fight, not even like this, but if they were promising something then they better make it good enough to risk everything it meant to be an orc.
 
Last edited:
  • Yay
Reactions: Baise, Lia and Jair
6WVltJx.png

Alliria_pandemonium

Her eyes bulged in shock at the horrid Golem that pulled itself from the earth, her lips thinning and the grip on her blade tightening as she felt her head shake.

What the hell is happening. Lia thought to herself as the giant roared and charged forward, his face a mask of determination and strength. For a moment she was stunned, watching her eyes focusing on the man as he took charge of the battle.

She was stunned.

Dumbfounded.

Lia had trained all her life to be a Ranger, had fought everything from Werewolves to Giants...but this? This was something entirely new to her. Her feet seemed frozen to the earth, a voice echoed out, but it seemed to die upon her ears. She felt her self shake, taken away by the charge of the moment.

She was supposed to be stronger against this, able to face anything, but in that moment she felt doubt enter her mind.
 
  • Yay
Reactions: Baise
"REJOICE!"

The voice disturbed Ynsidia's concentration. What effort she was maintaining on the Ink Unicorn broke, and the Conjure dissolved beneath her. Puddling than dissipating into whiffs of dark gray smoke. The shifting ground, and shimmering air didn't help Ynsidia any either. She felt disoriented. Exhausted. Hopeless. And then this omnipresent voice pressed into her head...

"For you are on a path."

It almost said her name, her real name, without actually saying it. Whatever this voice was, it didn't speak to your ears but to whoever you happen to be, even if it was buried beneath alias and ego. And for that, Iphigenia, not the farm girl Elveszett, or the posturing and posing image of Ynsidia, but Iphigenia very much herself grew furious.

"A path to ascension."

An angry slave girl with many dangerous tools at hand went to work. The pot settled before her as the cloaked, horrific mockery of a man materialized before the Eternum, she removed the lid. The guards who'd watched her had advanced forward, leaving her to her devices, though they did take her weapons, she was able to reopen the wound in her hand by digging a fingernail into the scabbing laceration. Spilling four droplets into the pot, she went through the motions, and spoke her words as usual, but the fire in her eyes, and the sneer on her lips indicated that this wouldn't be her typical Conjure.

"Join us. Join me. Become what you were meant to be."

She looked down at the shackles around her waist as the remaining contents of ink within the pot burbled up and out, clawed hands taking form.

"Too late, whoever you are." she said, voice distant, eyes riveted to the chains.

A long slender neck formed as a muscular, reptilian body shaped itself.

"You're much too late..." she echoed.

Wings shot from the half formed body and flapped sporadically. She gripped her the shackles presently, the iron cold. Then she looked up at her Conjure.

"All I am...all I could ever hope to be, has been defined these chains long ago."

An arrow shaped head as black as the ink it was summoned from leaned in, nuzzling her, and she stroked the top of its head, between swept back horns.

"You call me by name, so I'll answer you..."

And she climbed on to her Ink Dragon as it took to the air.

"...with all my ire."
 
  • Yay
Reactions: Velaeri and Baise