Pandemonium Those Beyond

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"Incredible...!"


Ynsidia breathed, staring into a partition, no, more like wall of billowing crimson. It had cost a fortune to get her here, a fortune not spent from her own pockets, but from the coffers of various interested nobles from Vel Anir. Some of the more...eccentric...elites wanted a sample brought back to them for their own personal experimentation, and had offered her considerably more in compensation for the potential trouble.

Awe by the ominous mass before her, she now felt glad in turning down the extra incentives. Standing some thirty yards from the actual aberration in Aerithil's nature, Ynsidia couldn't shake the feeling of already somehow being engulfed by it, that seeing it in all of its horrible glory had caused her to be consumed already.

A shiver ran through her.

This thing was evil. Not like the 'evil' she was labeled with constantly, but dispassionately, truly, evil. This thing didn't care, didn't damn, didn't give. This thing was meant to take.

Take anything and everything.

Tearing her black eyes from the terrifying phenomenon, she turned her back to it, knelt down in the wasted earth, and took the wood lid off the burlap swathed clay pot before her. The smell of ink filled her nostrils as she went through the motions of her incantation.

"Over thee I cast,
Myself is thine canvas blank.
Possibilities."


And she drew a small dagger from her robes after circling her hands above the open jar.

"My blood is dawn red,
Coaxing you to awake now.
Breath your first morning!"


And she cut her palm in one swift, blinding motion, fresh drops falling into the midnight dark contents. Four sanguine tear fell, and Ynsidia withdrew her bleeding hand, wiping the knife off on her robes. She then stood, secreting the tiny weapon into the folds of her garments again and then stretched her free, unblemished hand, her left hand, out over the pot. Her fingers wriggled as if agitating the air, or beckoning a small animal.

Slowly, at first, a snaking tether of black ink coiled upwards, gaining velocity as it perched on the back of Ynsidia's hand, as it did, it immediately took on form, a lively, fluttering shape.

A Raven.

Turning back to the scarlet maelstrom behind her, Ynsidia had the most disconcerting feeling that the wall had come closer. "Half the distance had been closed at least!" she thought. Feeling anxious, Ynsidia loosed her Conjure with a flick of her hand, the Ink Raven soaring like the animal it mocked right toward the mist barrier. Ynsidia poured her conscious into the 'bird', all her will, effort, and focus centered on her imitation of life.

It pierced the wall, disappearing in a blink. Simultaneously, Ynsidia shrieked, pitching to the dead terrain on her back with her hands to her eyes. She kicked and writhed, back arching with an agonized keen issuing from her lips before she went limp for a moment. Tentatively, she composed on the dirt, and rose. Her eyes bled at the corners, and were bloodshot, but they were for the most part unharmed.

The same couldn't be said for her Conjure. It had been obliterated in six short, excruciating seconds that she very intimately felt. Some of the blood on her face, Ynsidia concluded, was from her cut palm, to which she concluded she had shed more than enough for one day. Putting the lid back on her clay pot of ink, the Conjuring Witch made her way to a simple, tastefully ornate palanquin flanked by four Ink Minions. Seating herself and securing the ink, behind her seat, she ordered her Conjures to move. Lifting the palanquin, the Conjures hauled Ynsidia off at a decent speed from the mist wall.

Taking a parting glance at it, Ynsidia shook her head and scoffed before looking away.

"They wasted their gold. This thing will come to them soon enough..."
 
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Alliria_pandemonium

Lia ran up behind the giant, her blade bare, a scream echoing from her lips as she sliced through one of the Monsters.

It screeched, roared, and then half flipped to the side.

Shock dawned on the Ranger's face as she saw something within the mass of twisted flesh, the writhing skin revealing the face of a...human. Lips thinned, her gaze drifted around them. Were they all...?

The question floated through her mind, but she wasn't able to hold it for long.

Another one of the creatures pounced on her, it's broken and mawed face reaching towards her. She felt her sword hand suddenly get stuck, a long tentacle wrapping around her arm and immobilizing her. A dozen swears passed her lips, her leg desperately reaching up to try and kick the beast away.

"Help!" She called out, desperately kicking at the mangled creature.
 
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Alliria_pandemonium


Rosalia Kahl
Rebecca let out a frustrated exhale through her nose with a soft growl accompanying it. Seemed Lia was too preoccupied to notice her. "N-No one appreciates th-h-theatrics. Its all just k-k-ill th-his, g-gore th-hat..."
She said stepping past the pinned Lia leaving the ranger to her fate. She seemed to melt into the mist.
A ranger rushing to her aid suddenly found himself tackle with incredible force ,and pinned with two bone spikes sinking through his plate armor poking out of his back and sinking into the ground.
Rebecca broke them off before another pair grew to replace them.
These were stabbed into his legs ,and the final two went into his hands leaving the worms in the mud to freely enter his wounds as her venom kept him from struggling.
"Acsend b-b-brother."
She said reappearing for a moment with a grin as her scales flared back up leaving her to seemingly vanish.

The injured ranger Lia had saved suddenly found a tail spine jammed into his spine leaving him slowly paralyzed as well. He fell unable to even cry out as the lesser beings did their work.
The next to fall was another ranger that almost managed to free Lia before a spine pierced his chest as her tail struck like a snake jamming through his eye.
She assessed her handiwork with a sigh as she let him drop to the ground.
"I-I hope to see you again L-Lia."
She muttered before disappearing yet again.
She wanted to fight the ranger. She really did.
But the tickle in her brain pulled her away like it had her on mental leash with sheer force of will that seemed to hijack her thoughts as it saw fit.
The left flank of the enemy was sufficiently weakened. The rangers would be over run. Now she had another thing to weaken.
She eyed he giant in front of her as he knocked out a demon with boxing it seemed. She rolled her eyes and began her sprint on all fours basically invisible as she gracefully lept over and slid under the chaos around her.







Xoknath
That is..Until whether by accident or on purpose a large foot stepped on her tail causing a cat like shriek to escape her lips as she was yanked from her feet.
The shock causing her scales to sink in for a moment revealing her as her poor tail sank into the mud. She sprang to all fours and pulled for a moment before being able to slip free causing her to stumble on all fours. She slowly rose as tears sprung to her face
"My t-t-tail.."
She said sadly as her teary eyes looked for the offender.
It was the red eyed orc she had seen in town before.
She held her tail close to her for a moment seeming to nurse it before her eyes turned to blood red slits as she glared with a growl, releasing her tail gingerly letting it writhe like a snake ready to strike.
She began swiping away a few underling demons to give them room before she sank back onto all fours looking like a she was ready to pounce. "N-n-never caught your n-n-name......... In the v-v-village." She stuttered softly. Her scales sprang back into action, recovering from the shock as her form instantly became distorted. "G-glad I didn-n-nt. M-makes what com-m-mes n-n-next easier."
 
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The healed wounds suddenly burned. This was annoying. Very annoying. He almost wanted to rend out the flesh in order to get rid of the burn, but he held off. The pain would allow him to focus more of the beings who tormented him. He REALLY didn't like this, and he knew he was going to have to deal with that later on. For now, he needed to focus. FOCUS on the creatures who seemed to be wanting to rip him apart, and do it to them first. His claws would lash out, scooping up a huge clump of stone and dirt, tossing it towards the further ones, knowing they where like Goblins, nothing more than to be annoying if nothing else.

The pretty one had promised him food, so he would be happy for that kind of reward, and he was going to make sure it was all worth it. She loosed an arrow, sending it to the skull of another demon thing and killing it, allowing an opening for the other person to strike out at more. It was like a ripple effect, and he was going to help make it go even more. There was one, one who seemed to cause others to freeze in place, for fear to enter the bodies of so many of the warriors, but Abriax didn't feel the fear, he was relentless as a machine, as unyielding as the mountain, and as dangerous as a gale.

Smashing his way forwards, he jump on those powerful legs, landing hard near several of the demons, just in reach, and grab them with deadly hands. His nails would dig in deeply, ripping into flesh and allowing him to rend out flesh and toss the bloody hunks of flesh away. “Abriax has issued challenge! Will none of mists cowards dare to stand against him!?” He shouted out, his voice sounding borderline enraged, though his eyes would show that it was a lie. He was calm in emotion, simply repeating things he had heard in his long life.

With the two demons still in range, he would do the only thing he knew how to... Ultra high violence. Once more, his claws would lash out, ripping into more flesh, and yanking them close to him, slamming them into the ground and then starting to stomp on them with his powerful feet and legs. He didn't care about any wounds caused upon him, despite the burning feeling, he was not on fire, so he was alright... If fire was used, he was not going to be pleased at all, and he would have to find a way around it.

Elbion_pandemonium
 
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Jair did not have time to revel in his boxing victory, more of the pale demons were swarming at them. It seemed like a never ending onslaught of streaking, unruly creatures coming at them, they have reserves indeed.

"HELP!" he heard someone shout, and he turned to see his compatriot getting pinned to the ground by one of their oppressors. ~Well that was interesting~ the giant thought, as he leaned down, picked the creature up, and began pinching its head by rolling his, and finger popping its head like a boil, or a zit, a very large disgusting zit! "You ok?!" Jair asked before he once again was swarmed by some unpleasant creatures.

Jair bent over, grabbed the rope end of his meteor hammer, and gave it a good heavy yank. The rope twanged, becoming incredibly taut before it came loose, digging a furrow in the earth before flying into the air cutting a small swath of creatures as it flew to his proximity, and began rolling it over his head once more.

Xoknath | Rebecca Fourtuna | @Rosalia Kahl
 
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Rohiron’s thrust found its way home and the monster -- demon -- crumpled to the ground, spilling out ichor of an unnatural hue, even as its appendages still continued to reach out towards them. Verys spoke the command to lower the flame of the torch once more, tucking the dagger back into her boot. Without paying much heed to the potential danger to herself, Verys whipped out her journal once more, nip appearing as she popped the top off of the ink well and tucked it back into the safety of her cleavage.

“Fascinating! Look, here, modified musculoskeletal structure harkening back to a humanoid form like you or I -- and here, oh, look, I wonder if these are olfactory structures. Perhaps temperature receptacles? They certainly seem to be functionally independent of each other…” she murmured as she carefully used the edge of the torch to push the antenna to one side so she could sketch it with her other hand, confident, swift strokes slicing across the page as she created an incredibly accurate recreation on her pages.

“Oh, oh, gorgeous, the armoring on it! Brilliant! It’s like scales. Mammalian scales! Haha, this is so neat! Ooh, what’s that?”

The wind had half-curled the edge of the parchment paper. Open journal still tucked underneath one arm, she pushed herself to her feet, venturing further into the mist towards the paper. In her experiences scared former knights didn’t just turn into paper without good reason, after all….

Rohiron | Falwood_pandemonium
 
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Alliria_pandemonium

As it seemed as if the Rangers could be overrun they found the tide of battle shifting. Shadows danced as the monsters returned to the mists. Shards of dull red light from the sun above now seemed to pierce through the haze. It was as if the mist lost its hold on the land as the demonic host was lessened.

They did not go far.

Since they had arrived several of the native creatures of this land had been Ascended. Now Rebecca Fourtuna had returned to her kind before the process had even finished. Prethessia was curious to see what happened next.

You are beautiful. The form reflecting the soul.

Rebecca would hear the words whisper through her mind.

Would they reject her? Would they try and save her, bring her back down to their hideous, identical forms?
 
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There was the deep, satisfying thwhack! Of Mitsy’s tonfa hitting their mark and absolutely shattering bone; she would have liked to hear that sound from them meeting its skull, but disabling one of the thing’s arms was good enough too. Especially since Trajan’s hammer swung in a vicious sweep and connected as well, a blow that should have, by all accounts and purposes, been nearly fatal. For a crazy xeno-hating sycophant, Trajan was pretty handy, she had to admit.

Before she could take satisfaction in a hit landing home, however, the demon’s arm abruptly began to wrap around her tonfa, effectively trapping her against the disgusting thing. She could hear the sounds of other fighting behind her, but she didn’t have the mind to look and see how the rest of the Band of Idiots were faring; they were on her own, for the most part.

Mitsy growled in anger, bringing her feet up and planting them hard against the demon’s chest. Shifting her grip on her tonfa, the white-haired Kitsune shoved with all of her might against the demon’s arms, wrenching herself and her tonfa free and flipping backwards to land in a crouch a few feet back. The ground, however… it sucked at her and bubbled around her boots, making her look around herself, alarmed…

“Uh, what the--?!”

Quickly, she scrambled towards the shining man in armor. He was strong enough that her vaulting off of him had hardly even bothered him, so she grabbed the top of his backplate in one hand and used it to hoist herself up with one foot on his hip plate and out of the mud. Kind of a dick move, but, hey, she stood a better chance of being able to attack and therefore keep him from dying too, so really, not the worst thing she could have done.

Of course, at this angle, she got another look at his face… and sort of did a double take.

Oh yeah. She hadn’t recognized him with his clothes on. Wait, was that this face? Oh. Yeah. That was this face. Ugh, she’d had this face on way too long.

“Oh shit -- uh. Hi!”

Wait. Giant demon in front of them, life or death situation. Right.

Elbion_pandemonium
 
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After only a few minutes of trekking in the mist, the noises of battle erupted into the Naga's ears. Screams soon followed, some human, some seemingly from the darkest pits of hell. Around them the mist began to fade, the monsters dispersing with it. It appears the battle has been won, but there was still some stragglers. In front of her she saw a beast getting ready to pounce upon a nearby orc. It was covered in scales, seemingly cat like in appearance and movement. Yet it was human, or some part of it was. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter, it'll die all the same.


Instinctively, Am’Thet sprinted forwards, knocking aside the Naga in front of her. Within seconds, she had slammed her body into the beast, tackling it to the ground.


Alliria_pandemonium
 
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Maude


He growled as he was thrown across the hall, he was in pain as he felt his mending ribs break once more, at least he wasn’t bleeding, not that he had a thought about that. All Gunnar felt was rage for being treated like that, the pain he felt just seemed like a reminded that he didn’t fit in here at the top. He was good on the journey, full of blood and glory but life on the council. He was nothing more than the Queen’s favorite pet, or so he saw it.

He got up, gripping his sides a little as he felt his ribs shift, a momentary pained expression on his face that soon after gave way for frustration. “Fuck the people.” He muttered as he walked off like a beaten dog. Gunnar didn't care for their people, there was only one reason he was here in the first place.

Love and hate share a thin line and that was true for Gunnar, he truly did love Maude, her unbridled fury and strength was attractive to the man, but he would never stand on equal footing to her. If he was to be with her he was to be submissive, and any glory he got now would be attested to her favoritism.

Whether all this was true or not didn’t matter, it’s what he thought and felt as he limped his way to the tanner to get his gear.

He was hurt but armoring himself went well enough, and he got himself a few skins of mead to keep him warm while he waited to be called upon. The alcohol made the pain go away, both mentally and physically as he sat himself at the gate of the city, waiting to depart. Though he might be quite inebriated by the time they came to march.
 
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As it seemed as if the Rangers could be overrun they found the tide of battle shifting. Shadows danced as the monsters returned to the mists. Shards of dull red light from the sun above now seemed to pierce through the haze. It was as if the mist lost its hold on the land as the demonic host was lessened.

They did not go far.

Since they had arrived several of the native creatures of this land had been Ascended. Now Rebecca Fourtuna had returned to her kind before the process had even finished. Prethessia was curious to see what happened next.

You are beautiful. The form reflecting the soul.

Rebecca would hear the words whisper through her mind.

Would they reject her? Would they try and save her, bring her back down to their hideous, identical forms?

Rebecca smiled as the tickle of the voice graced her mind. She the turned away from the Orc as she saw the mist receding slightly.
No!
She needed it!
She already felt weakened being apart from it. She found purpose in it. Her ascension was not yet complete..She would return to her hideous old form again, and the thought terrified her, disgusted her even. She turned to retreat with her brothers and sisters...

That is before something tackled her to the ground. She knew just from the smell it was a naga. She had dealt with many pirates in her life and the nastiest were always those scaly beasts.
"G-g-get off me y-you d-d-dirty hi-hisser."
Rebecca whimpered through gritted teeth as they landed heavily in the mud.
She squirmed and shifted trying to escape as her left arm was trapped to her side.
The other was free to swing as she struck with her right arm spine and tail spine in unison.
If these hits landed the naga would find itself gifted with a nice arm bone spine jammed up under her rib-cage and into her heart and a tail spine lodged in the back of her neck at the base of her skull. Venom would go to work quickly paralyzing her heart and brain leaving her foaming at the mouth and dead in minutes allowing Rebecca to retreat to her new found home.

Alliria_pandemonium
 
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Alliria_pandemonium

Xoknath was no fan of fighting defensively, especially with his size providing a far greater boon to attacking than trying to protect his bulky musculature from stray attacks, but between armor and thick hide he could hold strong on his side. The pain was just a reminder that these beasts had yet to fell him, or do enough to bring him to the brink, and surely if he had been fighting alone then he would surely have died far quicker than he would like to a swarm of them.

He clashed his own axes together with a resounding metallic thud and brought a foot down with a heavy stomp forward, a loud bestial grunt from the mighty orc signaling that he was ready to go on the attack. Now that the mist was pulling back and he could see a little clearer the enemies before him, they were targets, still plentiful, but not quite as hidden from his blades. They would know fear.

Instead, his plan was cut short as something squirmed beneath his mighty boot, a tail attached to a different demon that struggled to earn its freedom. Seemed a woman, saying something about not catching his name back at the village, but the orc could definitely not recall such a being ever coming near him back then, and he had never gotten a good enough look at the Rebecca they were searching for to recognize her through an altered form. For him, this was some monster spouting something about familiarity, and far more importantly, a clear challenge.

Xoknath clashed his battle axe and woodcutting axe together once again with a short roar and a readied stance, his own blood-red eyes glaring down at the challenger who seemed far more talkative than the rest of her ilk from the mists, "Come, little monster! Break yourself against Bloodeye!"

If it talked, that meant it was special, proud. If it was proud while its kin fell to mighty, cleaving strikes, then surely it was a threat more real than the others. He would not take it likely, nor assume that its allies would simply sit back for single combat. He would enter this battle carefully, but brutally, and clearly that tail was an exploitable weak point.

Yet, before the fight could begin, the receding fog seemed to take with it the darkness and the creatures that had come from within. While more of the monstrosities pulled back, the challenger looked around, confused, lost, and as if being left behind. Suddenly the battlefield was no place for a lone warrior. Proud, but not foolish, she attempted to turn away before a snake-person-- no, a naga, the orc had fought some in the past, tackled the thrashing foe.

"Snake, that one challenged me!" Xoknath growled, stomping forth before lodging his axe blades into the ground and moving to pull the two away from each other. For the naga, he would simply grab it by the back of the neck to delicately, (well, as delicately as an orc handling a dangerous animal,) pull her away from the monster. For the monster, he would grab her by that spiked tail before using her as a flail against the ground until properly stunned, assuming he could part the two first.
 
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Ynsidia's Conjures could only last so long. The first four drops spilled bought one hour, and brought whatever she wanted to 'live' to life from the pot of ink for that hour. An additional hour for every drop given after the first four. The palanquin bearers had ran their three hours, and with an empty jar now after creating four, shorter lived ones, Ynsidia was left to go on foot.

Athletic, and youthful, Ynsidia kept a steady, quick pace. She rested briefly, drank sparingly from her water-skin, and dwelt fruitlessly on how she would manage sleep in the middle of desolate flatland. The Mist loomed much too close for such a comfort as slumber. As fast as she was, she was limited in stamina. She had to stop from time to time. The unwordly mist did not, it just kept coming, kept consuming her steps.

The mist was overtaking her.

Very shortly it would be upon her.

Knowing she could not outrun it, or move latterly enough to avoid the damnable thing, Ynsidia dropped her travel pack with supplies, causing a billowing cloud of dust to jump from the tortured terrain. She took out the water-skin, and took a sizable, indulgent gulp of the precious resource.

It wasn't fine wine like what she was given by the indulgent, nefarious nobles she worked for, but it was every bit as luscious in that moment. She emptied the skin, and cast it down with the rest of her supplies. She had lost her appetite, so the loaf of bread and seed cake would go (likely) uneaten. Whatever thrived within the scarlet nightmare bearing down upon her likely desired something more substantial, more raw.

The Rapier slid free of its sheath, Ynsidia gripping it like a priceless heirloom, her off hand produced the dagger she'd used early that morning, and held it backhand ready as she took a defensive fencing stance.

The sanguine tide rushed towards her, seeming to pick up speed, as if racing to embrace her like a long unseen friend. If only she had friends who felt that way, not Hellish supernatural activity that seemed driven by a malefic intelligence. She brought the hand that bore the dagger and placed it behind her, bending at the knees to sink her stance.

Fear.

She'd fought it for so long that she felt lonely without it. She felt lonely now as fatalism gave her the strength to stand before uncertainty, and very likely doom, without losing her head and panicking. The moon lommed high, not quite at its pinnacle, and the sun peeked from the horizon it sunk behind. Stars faint in the sky. Ynsidia accepted the possibility that this could be the last time she saw these celestial bodies. A pang of regret. She should have looked up at them more!

"Deities of Heavens and Hells,
What unmerciful judgment has been wrought?
Is there no forgiveness for sinner and saint,
That could spare the best of us and the best of the worst of us?"


She started.

"For that which can be ventured by sovereign and nation has,
And Arethil has made us the sacrifice for it.
Unto the alter we are bound and awaiting your plunging knives,
Forsaken to accept lonely demise without hope of reprieve."


She finished her little poem prayer to whatever sympathetic Gods or Goddesses that might be listening, the mist practically on top of her now.

Ynsidia didn't want to give it the pleasure of taking her.

"Thank you for your warm welcome, I accept the hospitality of your table!" she declared with gusto.

And Ynsidia lunged into the mist, Rapier pointing the way.
 
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The mists were clearing, and the Giant finally got a look around. "Bloodeye! Lia! you guys okay?!" He shouted at the top of his lungs looking about for survivors. There was more than one survivor, that was good. He began flemishing down the rope of his meteor hammer, and looked here and there. Finally he saw probably the second biggest guy there, the big green beast of an orc!

"Hey buddy," he said as he plodded forward smiling, "glad to have found you alive and kicking, where's Lia?" he asked. He took his role as a big guy seriously, making sure his compatriots were okay. He offered a quick bro fist to his orcish companion before getting out of the way of those people who could help the wounded. That kind of included himself, his had what amounted to light cuts, but there were many of them, and they had soaked through his pants, and the back of his shirt. He thumped down some where out of the way, and let others do their thing. Luckily giants were robust creatures, and he would live but man did it sting.

Xoknath | Rebecca Fourtuna | @Rosalia Kahl
 
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It all happened rather suddenly. The demon swinging at him, Mitsy using him as a springboard to leap at the demon, and only a few moments later, the ground beneath him seemed intent on swallowing his feet and locking him in place.

Thankfully, he was an a fairly secure stance, and as his feet sunk into the ground he leaned forward to plant himself even more like a rock in front of the demon. Of course, the demon was preoccupied by strikes coming from three different directions... where it responded by... wrapping broken limbs around weapons? Cornelius made a face, "Oh, well that is unsettling!"

Mitsy found herself hanging off of his back, finally recognizing him. He gave her a grin, keeping half an eye on the demon as he did so.

"Of all the places to run into each other again, right?" He asked, not at all seeming to mind her using him as a perch. His attention turned to the demon, and he brought his flail forward once more. A heavy overhead strike, bringing all three spiked maces down to bear on the monstrosity. With any luck, it would shatter shoulders and skull alike and be the end of it... but even as optimistic as Cornelius was, he was starting to doubt whether it would even slow the demon down.
 
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A̛͘͝N̷̷̵͜Z҉̸͏I҉͏͞A͏̴͜͠͞N͜͝

The name infected his mind like an insidious plague. Instantaneous revulsion, as if to merely know it was to somehow be made filthier, more corrupt. There was perhaps no fire hot enough to burn away the impure stain left by the name. It would be the burden, the grave price, that Trajan and the rest of the brave men and women would be made to endure for the rest of their natural lives. If they should be so lucky to carry it, and not all perish here and now.

A devastating blow by Mitsy, as if she had channeled all the sanctified wrath of Mankind into a singular strike. The black-haired mage from the group of four landed a ferocious stab into the fiend's hand as well. And did the fiend seem sluggish now, as opposed to when the plate-clad man attacked? His first thought was Faurosk, but the mage had forgone his magic--last he saw--in favor of turning himself into a living weapon, the blade merely an extension thereof. The woman in the hat, perhaps. He had thought her a mage too, though certainly it could have been Kalliana as well; Rainie seemed quite content with her skill with a bow. Glory be, he would know her name, for all who currently attacked the fiend owed much to her. As did the mercenaries. A true credit to Mankind, she who wore the hat.

And still. Still! The fiend stood, even after Trajan's warhammer connected as well. The creature's unholy strength readily apparent. What foul deeds had it performed to gain such power? Clearly, it was a more considerable foe than the skulking demons in the mists, as they were bound under its dominion. What perversion of life went on in whatever stinking pit this fiend called home? No. Trajan did not want to know. Just knowing the fiend's name was horrid enough. It mattered not how the fiend had come to be so powerful and what nefarious intent it had in mind for Arethil. All that mattered was the purging of this demon and its foul mist from the face of the world.

A change. In the fiend's eyes.

And the very ground around the creature started to bubble as if it were water in a pot held over a fire. And what appalling trickery was this! The fiend sprouted unseen appendages from its stomach and grasped for Trajan's hammer. Mitsy had the right idea and the proper initiative. But Trajan was not nearly so young and nimble. So he could only weave and turn and twist his warhammer, fighting against the tendril in the desperate hope that he could pull his weapon back before it wrapped tightly and securely about the shaft. It helped that suddenly, the person responsible for making an illusory copy of him earlier had also made illusions of his arms and his weapon now, to confuse the tendrils. He assuredly would have been lost without it, for his age, despite his warrior's build, showed in the struggle, and it was a saving grace that only one tendril had a partial grip on the weapon. And he barely, and just barely, yanked it free. He went stumbling backward, boots sloshing through the changing ground, until his heels hit solid dirt some few meters away from the fiend and Trajan tripped and fell onto his hindside.

Certainly, not the most graceful of escapes, as Mitsy's had been, but he managed. A brief reminder, that there would come a day when he would become too slow, or too weakened, by age, and he would not be so lucky.

But today was not that day.

Trajan stood on solid ground outside the bubbling mess around the fiend. Dangerous and foolhardy to wade into that muck for another melee strike. But he knew just the woman for the job now.

"RAINIE!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. And he snapped his back to meet her eyes after he said her name. Pointed his warhammer at the fiend. "Here is your enemy!"

Elbion_pandemonium
 
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Elbion_pandemonium

Valkery felt Trajan stumble and fall, falling victim to the main flaw of humanity, age. He seemed fine but his vigor and energy had faltered. Without taking her attention off of the burrowing demons she gauged she had just enough time to do this before they surfaced and she would be occupied again. Focusing on Trajan she used the last of the aura she had collected off of the heart and pumped his heart full of adrenalin and boosted his natural healing returning to him some of that youthful vigor he had lost. She looked back at him and nodded. It would only last him about 20 minutes before wearing off but it was enough. She quickly returned her attention back to the demons below them as the first began to emerge from the earth and she brought her short sword down on it with force and accuracy.
 
As demons fall, the obscuring mists begins to lift. There is a change in the air. A shift in the magical currents.

When visibility returns, you realise that you are no longer where you started.

The landscape is flat in all directions. A thin layer of clouds obscure the sun, painting the landscape in shades of ruddy brown. There is no green as far as the eye can see. Dark, skeletal branches rise up from the boggy ground.

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Those demons that were close by still move nearby, but they are not alone. Pale, humanoid figures move across the landscape. They are much like humans, but with notable differences. They stand hunched over, with broad shoulders of knotted muscles. They either ignore the adventurers who braved the mists or flee.

They are not alone. Colossi of wildly varying shapes and sizes might be glimpsed casting their shadows across this alien world.

And there are some more familiar, yet unexpected forms. Orcs, elves, humans and Norden were unlikely to expect one another here.



You find yourself in Pandemonium
Those with a talent for magic can sense something powerful nearby. A type of magic that seems oddly familiar to those from Arethil. If you didn't lose all sense of direction in the mists, then you will realise it comes from the direction the mists were expanding from.

The demons that were assaulting your group might have fallen back, but they may still attack as you decide what to do (up to you).
 
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Ynsidia was disappointed.

Her Ink Raven was annihilated in seconds when she penetrated the mist with it, she stepped in expecting the same, likely awful, but equally quick demise. Instead, she was met with only poor visibility. At first anxious, then suspicious, and finally disappointed, Ynsidia wondered what the big deal was all about. Clearly, this phenomenon couldn’t be all that bad. Sure! It caused her to bleed from the eyes when she sent a Conjure into it, but the Conjure was magic. Here she was, flesh and bone and bored as all Hells!

Maybe magic had decided to sort of distort, become polluted, and this was the result of such a thing. Maybe some dumb experiment in the arcane had happened somewhere and unleashed a distortion across Arethil’s spiritual lay-lines, lit them up like black powder along a path of dead leaves. ‘Maybe’ was endless. It was like asking ‘Why?’, there was no end in that as well! But Maybe is what preoccupied Ynsidia’s mind right then as she stepped about with limited sight, trying to make out anything hostile under the rosy haze she was enveloped in.

A sound? A distortion?

She turned about on the heels of her booted feet.

Nothing.

Another let down. She’d lunged in expecting...well, anything! Life had been good at throwing everything at her, why should a ghastly cloud of anti-magic mist be any damned different? She wanted it to be lethal. Some part of her needed it to be a threat.

Then, suddenly…

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But a fleeting glimpse as the haze lifted...then a flash and-




“Elveszett! El-ves-zett!” a sweet voice called

Ynsidia bolted upright...in bed??? She blinked blurry vision, a tremble thrilling its way down her spine. Cold sweat clung to her face like the kisses of passionate lovers she’d only dreamt of in the bad-girl fantasies of a virgin like herself.

“There there, Elveszett; no need to startle, it’s just me!” the sweet voice, comforted.

Vision clearing, Ynsidia blinked. The impossible hovered before her.

“Mother!?!” she managed with a shocked tremble in her voice.

*****

“What happened earlier? Madelle?” Gurath asked, coming from the small oven that took up most of the living room area of the hovel, a pile of eggs steaming upon a large plate in hand. Madelle shrugged, looking over at Elveszett, who, still regarded her with wide, wet eyed awe.

“She must have had a rather awful night with her pillow, Dear; she hugged me like she hadn’t seen me in years!”

This was impossible, Elveszett thought to herself, but didn’t understand why. Her dreams had been vague...awful really. Dreams of sharp, steel edges breaching her flesh. Of blood and black pools, of filthy cities, and violent battles in alleyways...she shuddered in her chair at the table.

“I’ll be okay...” she managed as her father set the plate of eggs down in the center of the table.

Her mother grinned. “I think you’re just having cold feet dear; with your sixteenth birthday tomorrow and all...”

Elveszett perked up at this.

“The sweetest one, no?” she said, taking up a fork, her parents doing the same. They said a quick grace to a specific goddess of domestic fowl, and dug into the piled high plate of yellow, scrambled protein. Munching in silence for awhile.

“Why would I have cold feet about turning sixteen?” Elveszett asked, realizing how odd her mother’s remark was. Her mother promptly swallowed a mouthful of egg.

“Well, most brides are on their wedding day, child!”

At that, Elveszett froze, the egg on her fork falling back down to the plate it was scooped from.

*****

“He’s a good match, as you well know! Now quite asking about a young man you’re more familiar with than myself, Kiddo, and help me shape some of this clay!” her father said, getting the wheel going, the space next to him with chair and wheel also, he indicated with a nod. Elveszett sat down, and started rotating the wheel, her feet and hands in simultaneous motion. Wheel and clay. Solid and malleable converging on her senses, a clay pot forming in moments. A simple, wonderful passage of silence and creativity.

“Blaight is handsome, yes?” she asked.

“That’s up to the woman to decide, El; I still don’t know if your mother married me because I was good looking, or because I had land, a dwelling, and an established trade!”

At this they shared a laugh together, Elveszett stopping her motions suddenly, her smile dissolved into a pensive frown.

“Father?”

“Yes, El?”

“I have a question...and unkind one...”

Gurath answered her before she could ask, stopping his motions too.

“Mother loved you on sight...I had reservations, but I was wrong to have them; my biggest regrets. I bought you from the traders because your mother was lonely and needed a companion, but feel I’m the one who benefited most. Me. You. Here...”

And he fanned his arms out, indicating the whole of his pottery shop.

“I can’t imagine life, this place, without you, Elveszett...I can’t go on without you now...You are my daughter, a treasure I cherish above all things...I love you.”

Elveszett’s eyes started to water, continuing the motions she’d aborted moments ago, she set her misting sights on refining the pot’s form.

“Th-thank you, father...I love you too...”

*****

“Gods, you're acting strange...stranger than normal, that is!” Blaight said, his face like a sunrise when his lips smiled, powder blue eyes grinning too. His wavy, chestnut brown hair was a bit long and a bit more unkempt, the soft breeze trembling it. Careless, and carefree. He was the same age as her, and yes – very, very HANDSOME.

“Just humor me!” Elveszett said with a bit of playful force behind her words. Blaight sidled up close, throwing an arm about her shoulders. His other hand he used to point and trace the idyllic little hamlet of thatched roofs and mortar walls. Atop a hill, afternoon was well on, Blaight pointed out the stream running along side the village, the dense edge of the forest about a mile off, a mill, the road leading to the nearby Vel Anir, etc.

“...and there's my house next to your father's shop; we met on your first day working there with him.”

Elveszett nodded, a toothy smirk surfaced on her face.

“Oooh, I remember! I was use to shaping clay by hand, but not with a wheel involved. The clay was a lot wetter than I was used to and I ended up spattering a bunch of it about the shop walls, father, and you.”

Blaight guffawed.

“It took me almost a year to trust you after that fiasco; us being just kids and all then, you were one of the few girls my age, and I was being pressured by my old man to go find someone to play with to get me out of the house.”

Elveszett placed a hand on Blaight's back, firm, youthful muscles she found there, and lightly pressed her fingers to them.

“I think your father was trying to get you and me familiar with each other enough to justify an arrangement.”

Laughing again, Blaight shook his head.

“If so, I wonder why.”

A low chuckle sounded from Elveszett.

“That's a simple explanation, my dear; your dad wants free pots!”

*****

“You're a lucky girl, you know that?”

Blaight said as they walked along the stream, sunset painting it orange. A soft breeze was at their backs. Elveszett regarded him, noticing his intonation was a bit somber. His expression matched.

“Brighten up!” she said cheerfully.

“I mean, with what you've been through; you suffered so much before coming here, you're lucky to have survived, I...I just want to make sure you're comfortable with me...okay with us, this...” and he indicated the village ahead with a wave of his hand. Elveszett nudged into Blaight as they walked along, leaning her shoulder against his arm. She clasped his near hand with both of hers, and looked up into his eyes.

“I am. Everything you and I need is right here. What more could I want?” she replied.

“Adventure?” he replied back.

Evleszett was reminded of her dream, the images and experiences that made her shiver. Who was she in those dreams? She shook her head presently.

“Last night, I dreamt a life time of adventure. How could I ever want such a chaotic life? No, its me and you forever after we exchange vows tomorrow. Blaight and...” she started

“...Iphigenia. The woman I love above all others...”

Realization dawned, her black eyes narrowing. Deep down Elveszett knew that somehow, none of this was ever real.

*****

She went back to the shop. Moon high, the wheels and tools for pottery gleamed silvery under the light. Elveszett couldn't go home, otherwise she would never be able to follow through with what she was about to do. She felt along the waistline of her simple, yet charming peasant dress. They'd be there, she'd have them, otherwise…

No.

A wave of disappointment.

“None of this is real...”

Elveszett said to herself, finding one of the knives in the shop, she held out her right hand, palm down, and closed her eyes, dwelling wholly on the 'dream' as she brought the knife's edge against the skin of her palm. She halted there.

Words? WORDS! There was words to be said!

They came to her lips almost too easily, too familiar and it scared her as her voice was something darker, harsher.

"Over thee I cast,
Myself is thine canvas blank.
Possibilities."


Shivering at the painful, cold bite of a fine edge as she moved the blade across her palm, Elveszett continued.

"My blood is dawn red,
Coaxing you to awake now.
Breath your first morning!"


*****

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Ynsidia's eyes shot open, and she gasped aloud. Her magic words had activated the arcane qualities within her, qualities that the that the nightmare landscape she currently occupied made scalding as it flowed through her. It was intensely uncomfortable. She was awake though, but not free. Thin, pale, gray tendrils were coiled about her legs and torso. It took every inch of self control and discipline to not come out of her skin, not to panic and scream. Taking stock of herself, she noted that she was being dragged away from most of her clothes (the heavy robes) rather slowly. A disheveled pile of garish finery with her slave shackles, and Rapier on top that was narrowly within reach, her finger tips caught the ornate pommel and held it firm. She then took stock of what was dragging her. A crab-like creature was the owner of the tendrils, the tendrils anchored into bulbous sockets that ran just underneath its spiky brown shell.

The tendrils emanated slurping noises, her blood trickling from where their tips met her bare skin. Like leaches, the were drinking, feeding off of her. Eight stocky legs with intermittent horns protruding from their respective lengths stabbed into the dead surface of the cursed earth and progressed them forward.

“Why are you awake? Go back to sleep...Iphigenia, my love.” the grotesque creature spoke from some unseen maw tenderly. The voice sounded all to familiar.

“Blaight?” she managed weakly.

“Yes, Iphigenia?” it answered back, almost obediently.

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents. My home. My village. The whole dream world.

A mirthless cackle followed her question.

“Isn't life but that? You strayed into it. My weaving. It snares those who are awake, and puts them into slumber. I crafted it when I saw you, Iphigenia; I wanted it to be special. I can get you back into it; I can make you happy there. My mind can weave a world without pain or want for you…but now that you are aware you're going to have to make this easier for me. You have to go back asleep. I can make you happy again, Iphigenia; we can be together there for as long as you last...please sleep.”

It pleaded. Rapier handle now in hand, and as weak as Ynsidia felt, she gripped it firmly.

“I still don't know how you awoke from my weaving. You must sleeper lighter than others.”

Groaning, Ynsidia raised her Rapier up.

“You used my name...my real name in the dream; I have not, and never would have, told anyone my actual name.”

Blaight made a humming sound at this, as if considering what she said.

“Trust me, you never will...Iphigenia.”

Ynsidia continued.

“You also got rid of my shackles in the dream...”

“Shackles? Oh, yes, those; why do you carry them wrapped around your waist like a belt?”

Ynsidia aimed the strike, hoping to catch as many of the myriad tentacles.

“Because I don't want to forget what happened to me.”

Another cackle from Blaight.

“I can give you your little gray cloud in our sunny dream, Iphigenia. Go back to sleep and you will have your chains; no harm done!”

“I beg to differ.” Ynsidia snarled, bringing the strike she prepared down with all her might.

The monster, or demon, or whatever the Hells it was, screamed as its various tendrils were severed. Stocky legs stiffening, it waved two massive serrated pincers at the end of carapace covered arms. Ynsidia swung again, and again, severing more tendrils. The prehensile appendages slackened and some fell from her person. She stood, feeling woozy, and wobbling like a drunkard. The tendrils that had not let go still clung to her person, twitching as she moved forward.

Blaight turned about, its hideous face contorted in pain. Ynsidia stabbed into an open, toothy maw with a furious bellow. The armored monstrosity chocked and gurgled out a moan, then dropped down dead, its legs fanning out beneath it. Ynsidia heaved a sigh of relief before tearing off the tendrils that hung from her. Each on removed drew a cry from her lips.

When she went to pull her Rapier free from the insides of Blaight, she froze. The dead monster's eyes still open, they were a bright, beautiful powder blue, looking shocked and betrayed.

With a sob, Ynsidia began weeping.

And long she did until she felt the caress of familiar energies. Not of herself but deeper into the Hellscape a great force seamed to flow. Managing to pull the Rapier free, she wiped the gore off on Blaight's shell, then went about sorting herself out. Putting herself together one article of clothing at a time.

She had no idea where she was. But she could sense something greater than herself beyond. Ynsidia intended to find it.

Anything to take her mind off of losing what she never had...
 
The third place.
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Eretejva_pandemonium Spine_pandemonium
Blightlands_pandemonium
Falwood_pandemonium

» Formation, line! «
» Charge! «


Quickly those that rode went into a full gallop, with the footmen following at their own pace.
The pawed steeds lept over obstacles as they came into visible range, some occasionally fell to the ground before running onwards untill as a thundering wawestorm they crashed against the battlefront.
Mabess held out her blade and almost cleaved cleanly one of the beasts in half across it's abdomen, while many lanced them upon their spears, a fate shared with many others.
It was much easier to deal with the vile beasts now that all was broken apart.

The less creatures were present, the clearer the mist became, yet all too clouded it seemed to the orcs in battle frenzy, only when the bests routed did the warband notice how the mist had cleared.

» The vile spawn is dead, but what is this place! Yet ... We have to find Dormak's party, « Sheeha urged as she rode up to Mabess.

»Nevermind, Dormak, he and his men are capable, but we have some more pressing matters. This doesen't seem like Arethil, or what do you say, Hath Charosh? « The chieftainess spoke before gazing over the orc who's been farther than any of the Ashlanders.

»And what about the girl?« Uttered Ubabe, whom was with the other group.


Some orcs in the mean time began picking up their wounded and crippled in battle. Plenty however have gone relatively unharmed.
There was some debate over this strange new location as well as panic as aid was given to the most unfortunate of ocs.
 
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The sound of united footfall filled the air within the red mist as the undead legion gazed around expectantly, sockets and blinded eyes seeing what nature had dictated they could no longer. What light that was offered through torches and burning zombies was dulled by the deep, crimson haze as it cast the risen mortals in an eerie light. Eilasandree turned her head from left to right, red eyes trying to pierce the wall of fog with little success. They had only been marching for a few minutes, but already it was deeper. Darker. The self styled Banshee Queen found herself... afraid. Afraid of what might happen, when the light ran out. Mentally, she ordered what troops she had control of to relay the command to increase the light to the lesser necromancers that accompanied them, along with the order to alert the rest of the column the moment they suspected something. This entire place felt... wrong. Unnatural. And that was coming from the risen dead herself. Beside her, all the steel of Magnan's helmet creaked as he shifted, watching what little he could for signs of danger. "I don't like this. There's something... something off." He rasped, gauntlets tightening around his sword as his shield arm came up to pat the dog on his shoulder that she could have sworn wasn't there when they entered the mist.

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The change came when the haze began to lessen, the elf initially thinking they had made it through. It was only when she began to feel the surprise and... horror of the soldiers at the front of the column that she realised she was wrong. Emerging into the forest, her nose wrinkled at the sight. All around her was death. But not the death she knew. It was... sickly. Dead, yet decidedly alive. Flesh like growths along what should have been simple bark surrounded them, and the more she looked, the more horrified the ancient elf became. The sound of marching feet gave way to soft crunches and wet splashes as more and more began to appear within the realm. Looking back for where they had came from, Eilasandree was greeted with nothing more than more of this dark forest. Feeling thankful that she had sent Rainie away when she had, the elf forced herself to calm. She could not allow panic to override her thoughts here. There was little room in the small clearing they had entered, and there were many more of her soldiers to go.

"Begin clearing the area. Remove the trees, an-" She paused, eyes glancing into the depths of the shadowy forest as something flitted behind the treeline. "...and kill anything in sight." She finished up. The dead looked between each other, obviously reluctant to move away from their tight formation, and it required a mental tug for the banshee to force their souls to do what she wanted. She could apologise later. For now, they needed to ensure that they could bring all of their might to bear. The sound of steel on flesh and wood filled the air, oddly distorted, even as the faint, echoed whispers of the souls inhabiting long since decayed bodies clashed with the small sounds that filled... wherever this was. "Amankh... Steve... Do you feel that?" She all but whispered to the ancient mummy and farmer. "There's something out there. It's... I don't... I'm not sure..." Just then, the world darkened momentarily, as something flew overhead. A beast straight from the nightmares of a perpetually tormented being, titanic in size as it almost lazily flew by.

The shock of the moment lasted only a small while longer, before Eilasandree's enterprising streak began to once again reassert itself. If such a creature existed in this strange land, then... A pink and purple glow began to emit from the necromancer's hand, streams of light twisting and twirling through the air as they almost lazily flew from her palm and towards the earth. A corpse that large would not be hard to find, and to have such strength upon her side would be worth however many soldiers it took.
 
Spine_pandemonium

As they charged into battle Rice clung to the back of the beast keeping as small as possible as battle raged around her. Slowly the chaos eased and everything quieted, the mists receded and Rice lifted her head.

Where was she? Where was this? Excellent. Eoliaf said and there was an abrupt string of coughing as The Mighty One of Many Ages woke up. Where are we what have you do demon woman? Tmooma rumbled in Rice's head. I didn't do anything. Eoliaf sang. You witch! You have brought us to this demonic place and you will return us this instant or I will let all of my wrath down upon your sorry existence. Tmooma bellowed. Rice covered her ears but it didn't make any difference.

Then she noticed the orc Lady was talking with the other orcs. One of them motioned to her and asked what they were going to do with her. She tried to make herself smaller as she chewed on her fingernails looking around nervously at the strange surroundings. "You said I'd be safe... is this safe?" She whispered to Eoliaf trying not to be heard by the orcs as tears welled up in her eyes "I don't know if I like this,"

Don't worry child, everything will be alright in the end. Eoliaf soothed. Lies! deceitful woman, you only bring suffering! Do not listen to her child! Tmooma began shouting again. I have not said anything that is not true. I care deeply about the child's well being. Eoliaf responded in a melodic tone. YOU ARE THE QUEEN OF LIES! Rice flinched as they continued to argue.
 
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The mists had a strange affect on Steves magic, though it had not affected Steve all at once, but the longer, and deeper he and his friends journeyed through the mist the more the mist affected his magic. It only really was affecting one of his spells, and that spell was only a tiny, and weak thing, but having that spell messed with began to dig deep into Steves well being. The spell in question was a simple one that Steve planted on all his raised friends, and the affect of was that he could sense them, he could feel that they were there. When he first entered the mist slowly he began to be unable to feel those at great distances from him. Soon he could barely recognize the chickens around him, eventually he could only go off of their visual appearances, something he'd never had to do before. Though all this was worrisome what really got to him was when it reached the point where he could no longer feel them altogether.

For the first time in years since before he went to the college of Elbion, he felt completely alone. To a man who had felt connected to hundreds of souls to very suddenly be feeling nothing, it was devastating. His heart had begun to race, and he felt as though he couldn't breath, so he took the potato out of his mouth hoping to be able to catch his breath no longer caring if the air he breathed was poisoned. He began to sweat even though he felt cold as ice, he stared at his hands realizing the tingling sensation that now ran through them. He barely noticed as he entered the strange new place, only finally noticing somewhere in his head as he looked around from a paranoia that had sunk into him, unable to escape the feeling of his doom drawing closer.

In his haze Eilasadree's words sounded distorted, almost like he was hearing them from underwater. Steve though able to feel something powerful nearby, its presence did little to move him at this point. His panicked mind raced as though if it raced fast enough it would somehow connect him with others again. Though what went through his head could hardly be called thoughts, there was a common theme that would showed up: his desperation to no longer feel alone.

Somehow through the panic his desperation took form. Like a man drowning he thrashed, and reached out grabbing onto anything he could. To a mage who was desperate to not feel alone this meant he cast the simple spell to be able to sense another, except this time, though still a weak affect, there was nothing small about it. The spell usually was cast with as much force as a hand cloth being tossed at someone, easy to resist, or remove from oneself. In his panicked state Steve instead cast it with the force of a horse being thrown on a man. Something that would be near impossible to resist without expecting it, and would take some real force to remove, requiring maybe even more than one. This could be considered a bit rude, but the real problem became apparent when a roar was heard in the distance... This had reached out much further than the undead army. Every potato Steve had brought had disappeared, only his stew remained still attached to the chimera.
 
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The Giants feet felt sticky, like they were in a pool of muck. As the mist cleared even more, he was able to see why, the soles of his boots were in bog. The smell was potent, earthy, not too gawd awful but not something he would want to be around for very long. He was still looking about for the ranger, and others who he was along with.

Where he was felt, looked, and even sounded different from where he was. To top things off the runes on his body were starting to tingle. It wasn't painful, but it did let him know a few thing, magic was that direction, and it was the same feeling that he felt when he dove into the mist looking for that other lady. To anyone who was near him Jair pointed it out. "I think that's the source of the problem..." He felt confident, he did have a good base of eldritch lore before shifting his study to rune lore but he would not mind confirmation.

Alliria_pandemonium
 
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Beasts and demons laid slaughtered around the Band of Idiots. Faurosk and Abriax especially contributed to the mass of demonic bodies piling around the area. The mist gradually thinned. Objects further into the center of the mist became easier to see. Deep within, the source of the crimson glow resided.

Several beasts began to spring from the ground before Kali and Valkery.

Trajan had ripped apart the tentacles from A͟źian’̛s̡ abdomen. Blood as black of the obsidian Faurosk created poured from its wounds. The broken arm fell limp to its side once Mitsy freed herself.

Kara repeatedly attempted to pull her dagger from the demon’s grasp. Kali’s illusion seemed to provide little effect.

Nonononono!” Kara said as she struggled.

Suddenly, An̴z͝i͏an͟ ̧released its grip on Kara’s dagger. It then turned to the attacking Cornelius and raised its unbroken arm. The paladin’s maces smashed into its arm, head, and collar. More black blood gushed forth from the demon. Cornelius and Kara remained in the splash zone. Some black drops graced Kara’s face.

The bubbling of the ground ceased. A̧ńzian’s ̸eyes continued to glow for a few seconds. N̵͜o͜͟͠t̕ ̷c̢͝a̧ų́t̴i̢͟o͘u̴̵͜ş͞ ̴͜͟e͢͏no҉u͏͘gh̶͟.

Then, Anzian collapsed to the ground. Unmoving no matter the stimulus. A pool of its blood built up. Wiggles was elated. The rest of the beasts fell – even those untouched.

The Redhead ran to the Bookworm’s corpse – tears streaked down her cheek. Some of the demon’s blood had fallen onto the Bookworm’s body. The Redhead stared at the pitch.

Without warning, the band experienced darkness and the sound of flowing water for a moment. In lasted for less time than it took for the party to blink.

The mist was gone. The party stood in the middle of a path that stretched into two opposite directions. The plains surrounding them featured decaying patches of trees and bushes. The sun pierced a never-ending overcast to light the world beneath. Any of the markings of a farming community remain absent from view.

The bodies of the demon and its beasts still surrounded the band. The soggy, worm-infested soil still met the band’s boots.

The path lead to jagged stone structures in the distance. A pale, humanoid figure stood on the path. The magical disturbance that preyed on others' magic waited in that direction.

The unseen cracking of branches rang out. It came from the other direction of the path. Something far enough away to be hidden by the “foliage”.

Elbion_pandemonium