Open Chronicles To Return to Malakath

[Dana Kass]

Dana's journeys had brought her many places throughout Arethil, all in the pursuit of rediscovering lost knowledge in service to Metisa. Some called it counterintuitive and suggested that a servant of the Goddess of Wisdom and Progress should focus on the future, instead of the past. But she and her sisters saw things differently.

After all, how could Arethil progress, when they're so blind to their own history? What have they forgotten that's waiting to be relearned?

When word of an expedition to Malakath reached her, she'd been quick to sign on. Eager to expand her mission outward to a whole new continent. Already her mind filled with images of the things she might discover, the knowledge she could unearth.

She stood alongside the others at the entrance to the place called Ravaryn. Fascinating. Though she'd kept to herself for the first leg of the journey, she now walked closer to the front of the group to get a better look. Eager to see what mysteries lay ahead.

Kiros Rahnel Lord Blackwell Xihuitl Tevnir Rahjal Zakarias Tonwee Asa Renwyk Vulpesen Arnor Skuldsson

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“This. This is the place the spoken of.” Kiros announced, referring to his prior adventure as merely a myth. Largely to disconnect himself from it, given Her connection to the event. Itra had told him She’d avenged a goddess and saved Arethil from catastrophe, and the tale of heroic altruism had been considered the greatest crock of serpent shit She’d ever said. She couldn’t directly lie, but neither was She compelled to speak the entire truth, and always did She feel the need to flatter Herself before Her lone, unbelieving audience.

“Where Seneschal had shown Herself, and where The Crook had been discovered.”

“Where great and-“

"Krsz akh. Quiro zch xaulu?"

Kiros spun around in an instant, taking up his quarterstaff in a two-handed polearm grip. His feet were spread apart, and his arms poised to strike at what he could only assume was a Shaxa waiting in ambush. But passing moments made it clear that Xihuitl hadn’t arrived with hostile intent. The lowering of Kiros’ staff further signaled to his companions that he expected no altercation with the insectoid.

“Do we smash him?” asked one of the guardsmen, approaching alongside him with a mace in hand.

“No. He’s a friend.” Kiros announced, recognizing Xihuitl for who he was. Slowly, he took a knee, and with a finger, reached to the device around Xihuitl’s throat. He then depressed the same button that had granted him the ability of speech last they met.

“Strange looking friend.” The guradsman remarked in reply.

Kiros led the others within Ravaryn soon afterwarrs. Inside the dark interior, the stench of death hung in the air. The rancid odour assaulting his nostrils was foul enough to cause him to loudly cough and gag as he tried to adjust. Regaining his composure took a few moments, and only then could he look around the ruins. He spotted a familiar sight once he had a chance to do so.

The insectoid queen of the Shaxa.

Andekhah.

She hadn’t moved from the position where Xzaar had struck her with a sacred arrow shot. The wound was not only visible on her corpse, it was festering badly. Slain Shaxa were scattered about all around her, also in similar state of decay. It had been months, and time had not been any kinder to them than the Goddesses had been.

Kiros stared in astonishment before a sudden sound from deep within the ruins made him pause. Heavy footsteps and the sound of talons scraping against stone came from somewhere further within. A moment later, a massive birdlike creature emerged. It looked like the flying creature he had seen on his last expedition, and it was far too close for comfort.

With a curious tilt of its head, it peered upon each member of the party in turn. Then it spread its wings and emitted an ear shattering screech that hung in the air for moments afterwards, sustained by the echo within the cavern. Plodding steps shook the ground as the skycre clambered towards them with its beak agape and menacing teeth on display.

“Don’t let it outside! It can fly, and will hunt us down!” Kiros warned. To be trapped in Ravaryn with the skycre was bad, but it would be far worse to be fighting on open ground with it flying overhead.

Kiros reflexively prepared himself to invoke a spell. Doing so would draw upon Itra's holy power, and would reveal his location and activities to Her clear – compromising the cause for his arrival entirely. Given the winged five metre tall carnivore they were locked in battle with, such concerns were utterly irrelevant.

Speaking the words of the incantation, Kiros prepared a Luminant Curtain to intercept their charging foe, but no spell would come forth. Pewter coverings still obscured both sides of the holy symbol atop his staff. Protection from Itra had left him vulnerable to the charging skycre, and prevented any use of his magic to defend himself.

The creature turned its head in an attempt to bite Kiros with its toothy beak. Unable to protect himself with magic, he swung the staff down against the skycre’s head in a panicked swing. The staff’s head struck the creatures eye just as its beak was ready to close around Kiros’ waist, leaving him mostly unscathed as the creature flinched and abandoned its bite. But it did not cease with its attempts to bite him, and Kiros swung his staff against its head again and again in frantic defense.

Heirahit bounced off the side of monster’s beak. The pewter covering over the holy symbol it was capped with flew off from the first impact, clattering on the stone floor of the ruins. The aggression was able to ward off the attacks by the skycre, until it managed to catch Heirahit within its bite. A twisting pull of its head wrenched the staff free from his grasp and sent it flying through the air, where it too clattered against the ground some distance away.

“Kill it!” Kiros shouted, panic clear in his voice as he scrambled away from the beast, now disarmed of both his weapon and his magic.

Xzaar Vixneel Xihuitl Tevnir Rahjal Zakarias Empyrean Vulpesen Lord Blackwell Asa Renwyk Arnor Skuldsson Tonwee Dana Kass

 

[Xzaar Vixneel]

Ravaryn. The destination that forced him to push the bounds of Empathy magic and cause him to endure its detrimental effects for the rest of that Journey. The place that almost destroyed his dexterity and would have rendered him unable to fire an arrow. Such a fate is worse than death in his eyes, being stripped of a mastered skill forever, one that you'd use to defend those who need it. Coming so close to that realization is something he probably wouldn't even wish onto a Dreadlord.

He has never harbored such disdain for a humanoid creature until now. Thus, imagine his shock when one snuck up from behind and spoke in that foreign language he may not understand, but will not forget. Xzaar prepared himself for battle at damned near the same time as Kiros did. He grasped his bow and removed it from his back, reaching for his quiver to grab an arrow while he made a sharp turn, nocking the arrow in swift subsequent motions.

Had Xihuitl been a hue lighter—or darker—or if Kiros didn't deescalate the situation via lowering his weapon. he might've released the arrow. That gave him more time to inspect the humanoid bug before them. He saw the antenna, eyes and several arms first, not the enigmatic stone that he wore across his throat, nor familiar way that he tapped it.

Oh.

Lowering his bow, he released a prolonged exhale. "Astra, Xihuit. You scared the utter shit out of me," he slipped his arrow back into the quiver, then smiled at their insect friend, "but I'm glad to see you."

It'd be a real kick if the child reunited with them too, huh? Descending further into the wretched place that nearly killed them before, he kept his bow within his hand and remained vigilant. If there were any more of those creatures here, he wouldn't dare hold back. He knows little about them, so it'd be best to defeat them as quick as possible. Although stressed, he felt strong. They have much more people than before, plus familiar faces. These things can't knock the confidence out of his this time.

ALTHOUGH... they can certainly knock the wind out of him! The unfortunate party appears to have stumbled upon the remains of Andekhah, and although it's a relief to see that she was successfully slain, the lingering Oder of putrescent flesh that almost caused three upheavals within the first twenty seconds of inhaling it had removed any satisfaction from the discovery! "Gods... that is a quick way to make you regret killing a bastard," he quipped, standing upright after having convinced his stomach not to embarrassing him in public. He's had the unpleasant experience of finding many dead animals in the forest before... and it never becomes bearable.

"Never seen anything like it--"

sudden sound from deep within the ruins made him pause. Heavy footsteps and the sound of talons scraping against stone came from somewhere further within.

A figure emerged from the dark. A beak... talons... sings... the piercing screech... Shit. Those damned vultures. They assaulted them before, swooping and clawing. The ballista bolts from that city saved their asses from a swarm before, but this time it's just them. That's okay. Things are on different terms now. Nocking an arrow, he drew back tension onto the bowstring and fired the arrow, but the creatures advance made him miss and the arrow simply pierced the wall. Near him, he could faintly hear Kiros reciting something. Although he could not tell what it was, he vaguely recalls the Priest doing something similar before. A spell! He reached for another arrow and stepped away so he wouldn't interfere or get struck with his casting, but to his confusion, the spell never came!

The creature bombarded Kiros with a series of feral bite, which the man fiercely, and narrowly, defended against with each swat of his staff. Be it a planned bite by careful timing—I refuse to believe that this creature has a fraction of intelligence—or extreme luck, the beast clasped its beak around the staff, prying it from his hands and throwing it away.

Xzaar wasted no time the moment the staff was pulled away. His bow flashed for a second, engulfed in an ethereal green light, then vanishing as the bow changed into a long branch with two blades on each end of it. A simple trick, reverting the bow into its original form, minus the blades he added.

His position had provided him with an instant flank, and he charged the attacker. "Get your staff! I'll keep it off you!" He thrust the blade towards the side of the Skycre's head so he could kill it as quickly as possible. The entire creature seemed to lack armor of any kind, so he doubts that there would be any resistance from his blade piercing its body.

Xihuitl Tevnir Rahjal Zakarias Empyrean Vulpesen Lord Blackwell Asa Renwyk Arnor Skuldsson Tonwee Dana Kass

 

[Vulpesen]

Relegating himself to a more lookout oriented role, Vulpesen allowed himself to fall into the center of the pack of explorers. Keeping his eyes to the sky and surrounding area, the warlock for any additional dangers or threats that might find them in the wild continent.

Of course, the danger wouldn't be hard to spot as they came upon trouble at the ruins. More perilous in fact was that its presence was made so well known. The screech seemed to shatter his mind and having been, only moments before, concerned with the state of his sensitive nose, Vulpesen was wholly unprepared for the cacophony that knocked him to his knees. "AAH! Shut the hell up!" he roared over the ringing in his ears as his eyes took in the blurred image of his compatriots moving in to combat.

The next sensation to hit was the result of that sight. Like a stampede of cattle, the instinct to protect crashed into Vulpesen's mind, combining with his anger and pain to create a very simple need for righteous retributive speed. "Bloody Hell Chicken!" he growled, the rumble in his throat betraying his zorren heritage as the ground erupted beneath his heels. Catapulting through the air, Vulpesen aimed himself at the creature's throat, opposite of Xzaar with the tip of his rapier leading the way while its shimmering leysteel blade crackled with lightning. He wasn't sure how much severing the jugular would do, assuming he could even find it, but an injection of lightning was rarely in a doctor's recommended orders, no matter the species.

Xzaar Vixneel Kiros Rahnel Xihuitl Tevnir Rahjal Zakarias Empyrean Lord Blackwell Asa Renwyk Arnor Skuldsson Tonwee Dana Kass

 

[Zakarias]

A screech, a monster, and chaos broke out. Fear rippled across the minds of the little mortals that were gathered about, and Zakarias but smiled behind the darkness of his mask. Far and behind. He would not draw his blade, nor would he whip up the winds he could command so well. Not yet, anyhow.

Instead, he would pull forth his lyre. A thing made of bone most ancient, with strings of crystaline thread. As the bravest among them sprang to action, staff smashing beak, bow firing arrows and blades digging into flesh, the red clown but pluck the strings of his instrument. Soft, and sweet, like fresh water trickling across barren stone.

For all who would hear, and for all who would allow, their minds would find ease against the terror of the hell chicken's cry. A sensation of calm would ebb out from the lake of their minds. A soothing, not sedation, but supple-fication. The sort of softness that allowed young trees to bend in the wind without breaking branch or bough.

And while they would fight, he would play on. His magicked song that steadied hearts and settled minds. All the while he would smile and dance, as his fingers easy the notes of his lyre.

Xzaar Vixneel Kiros Rahnel Tevnir Rahjal Empyrean Lord Blackwell Asa Renwyk Arnor Skuldsson Tonwee Dana Kass Vulpesen

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Disarmed, Kiros found himself before the skycre, it’s beak agape, with the teeth that lined it on full display. His staff clattered atop the floor behind it, and the beast’s attention diverted to the strange sound. It moved its head with a sudden turn, pointing towards the audible disturbance as if it hadn’t been the very cause of it in the first place.

The skycre kept still in its temporary confusion, its head remaining a stationary target for the blade Xzaar thrust towards it. So engrossed by the temporary distraction, it did not take notice until he was well into the motion of his attack. A reflexive blink of its eye and duck of its head caused the attack to hit high, catching into the flesh behind its beak and slicing a vicious gash that ran between its eyes. Bright red blood began to flow from the wound, spilling down its beak with droplets shaken off as the pain of the blow bid another howling screech from the winged monstrosity.

Having sought the beast’s attention, Xzaar now held it in full. Blood dripped from the open slice on its head, blinding it in one eye while the other stared straight at the elf. The beast gave its response with a sharp turn of its head to bash the side of its beak against him before it took a couple of steps back with talons scraping against the cavern floor. A lanky forelimb reared back, primed to strike at while Vulpesen leapt high overhead.

Before its attack could be realized, Vulpesen’s rapier dug deep into its neck, plunging into the gargantuan bird like a needle piercing skin. The puncture the blade disappeared into swelled with blood that soon poured out in a bright red stream. Lightning coursed through the wound all the while, sending its neck into spasms from the induced shock. The panicked swipe it made at Xzaar fell low against the grounds, striking at his legs if he would not jump or dodge.

Zakarias began to play a tune, of a purpose Kiros knew not. Absent as Itra was, She'd still managed to hinder him despite Her distance and inattention. Despite the valuable benefit the song carried, Her protective magic over his mind forbade any such intrusion into it. Most of the time, anyway. It was greater in strength now than it was then, and he hadn't even known She has placed such an enchantment upon him until he had first arrived to the continent.

Yet music carries its own power even without the enchantment flowing through it. Though magic did not ease his mind, the tune he plucked was soothing and did steel his nerves. Unaware of its power, Kiros believed there must be purpose to the tune the clown played.

With the skycre no longer giving Kiros or Heirahit any further attention, he dashed around the beast and towards his staff with speed. The dull pewter coverings littered the ground, leaving the bright brass symbol that capped it clear. He reached down as quickly as he could to retrieve the arcane focus from the floor while the skycre shrieked in pain behind him.

Armed with magic once again, Kiros turned to face the skycre, finding it now injured and subdued between Xzaar and Vulpesen, bearing bloody wounds from each. It was clear that the skycre was now losing the battle, fearsome as it was. Surrounded and screeching, his comrades looked to have it under control. Certainly more so than if they had Itra’s aid, which they might receive once he invoked Her power by weaving divine magic. It had happened last they were here. No longer of need to protect them, Kiros was hesitant to risk alerting Her. Still he valued his allies more than Her absence, and prepared himself to invoke a blessing of might should the battle turn against them.

And then there was heard an ominous sound that implied it might. A low rumbling roar and scraping sounds from deeper within the excavated cavern grew louder until another skycre popped its head from the same passage that the first had arrived from.

“Another arrives!” Kiros shouted out, just as a third skycre emerged from behind it.

“Two more.” He added, as the two rapidly advanced upon the group. Kiros pondered the protection a luminant curtain might provide for a brief moment, but immediately decided against it. It would buy them time, but only so much. His blessing of might was already primed, and the sooner they could kill off the beasts, the better. Vulpesen was closer, but he was already working magic that fried the shrieking beast.

“Xzaar!” Kiros called out before he cast the blessing upon him. It was more expensive without his robes, but sorely needed. There was little need for further explanation, he had already proven the incantations destructive potential during their last trip. The Blessing of Might empowered the elf's strength and heightened his speed. With the magic of the moon goddess aiding him, he could no doubt deliver a devastating attack to whichever skycre he chose. Both were bounding towards the group, claws primed to swipe.

The skycre between Xzaar and Vulpesen began to violently shake and shriek, rolling over to escape the lightning infused rapier. Once back on its feet and claws it made a mad swipe at the both of them with one of its arms, including Kiros, who was necessarily nearby to imbue his blessing.

Xzaar Vixneel Xihuitl Tevnir Rahjal Zakarias Empyrean Vulpesen Lord Blackwell Asa Renwyk Arnor Skuldsson Tonwee Dana Kass

 

[Dana Kass]

Dana hung back when the first creature struck. It's not that she feared fighting, but she was quite certain the others could handle it without her. There wasn't much aid she could lend against a creature that large anyways with only her staff.

When the next wave of them appeared however, she decided it was time to act. Boons of strength or speed weren't normally her focus. But with Zakarias song still playing a blessing of calm or clarity might not be necessary. It would be better for her to lend aid in another manner. She raised her stiff and whispered a prayer to Metisa.

She heard Kiros call out Xzaar's name elsewhere. Which meant she should focus her efforts on another. The fae perhaps, he'd proven himself adept so far. "You, fae!" she called out. A bolt of violet light shot forth from her staff and arced toward him. The moment it touched him it would grant him a mild boost in strength.

Xzaar Vixneel Xihuitl Tevnir Rahjal Zakarias Empyrean Vulpesen Lord Blackwell Asa Renwyk Arnor Skuldsson Tonwee Kiros Rahnel

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen snarled as power coursed down his gleaming blade into the creature below him. It certainly wasn't a broadsword or a cat gutter, perhaps little more than a comparative quill in the creature's neck. But even a quill could be deadly when jabbed into one's jugular. As the beast attempted to roll away, he simply allowed it to move, his blade coming free with ease and allowing a jet of blood to spray into the air. If the hell chicken wanted to bleed out a bit faster, who was he to argue?

As the next swipe came for them, Vulpesen growled and made a lunge, though he aimed himself not at the beast, but the perhaps too busy Kiros. A blessing on an ally would be nice but having the commander of the expedition be turned into ribbons wasn't a price the zorren was quite yet willing to pay. Tackling Kiros to the ground, Vulpesen rolled into a crouch, his hips popping his legs dropped into their secondary hip joints which were meant for running on all fours. It was, perhaps, an unnatural position for a humanoid and a dead giveaway for anyone who knew what a zorren was, but in a fight like this he didn't have time to worry about appearances.

Using his crouched position for the power it offered, the zorren closed in with a nimble leap to the skycre's back, a swirl of wind propelling him through the air. He barely heard Dana's callout over the pounding of his own heart, but he felt his muscles tense and expand, aiding him as he reached out to dig his illusioned claws into the creature's flailing wings. "Oh we ain't done here." His grip tightened and he worked to steady himself on the angry monster, riding and guiding it away as best he could as he tried to regain enough balance to use his sword.

Xzaar Vixneel Kiros Rahnel Xihuitl Tevnir Rahjal Zakarias Empyrean Lord Blackwell Asa Renwyk Arnor Skuldsson Tonwee Dana Kass

 

[Xihuitl]

The charge of magic through the stone at his throat was familiar, if momentarily uncomfortable. "Kiros-friend. Why-" Only a few scant words were translated, however, before they were drowned out by the monstrous creatures.

Spear in hand, Xihuitl instinctively ducked down low, whirling his many-limbed body to face the source. His antennae shot straight back over his head, though he fought the inclination to run.

He was a lone agent, a scout and spy. He could not fight a skycre, not by himself, and it would be in his best interest to flee. But the visitors, they had returned! He must know why, and he mustn't let them die.

Though it seemed they did not need assisting. Once again, the travelers from across the sea displayed feats of magnificent power. Xihuitl did not have lightning or holy light, nor enchanted arrows or song... but he was quick, small, and nimble.

The insectoid scurried ahead to where the first skycre had been grounded, leaning forwards and using his middle set of arms to assist with running. A single blow from the beast could be deadly to any one of them, and Xihuitl ducked and zig-zagged in a truly alien manner.

Sharp claws bit through feathers and leathery skin as he scaled the creature's hide. Vulpesen had managed some control of the creature, and Xihuitl exploited that by winding up and around the back of the beast's head. A golden, compound eye reflected Vulpesen's face before the chi'xilixi started jabbing his spear at the back of the skycre's head.

 

[Xzaar Vixneel]

Xzaar took a quick step back after his strike, the beast uttering another agonized shriek as blood poured from its new laceration. Unrelenting, he raised his weapon in preparation for another swipe, but the monster whirred its head around and slammed the side of its beak into his side. He made an excellent choice this time around to wear armor, but little is done against blunt force. The attack from this behemoth sent him sprawled onto the rocky ground with a grunt, his staff releasing from his hands and clattering to the ground.

He scrambled to his feet, reaching his arm out towards his wooden staff as it shot off the ground and back into his palm. Vulpesen had attacked the creature—thank you, would've been an issue since it knocked me down—and pierced its neck with his rapier, a jet of blood sprayed from its neck, which convulsed violently from the arcane magic that coursed through it.

He advanced to aid in slaying it, but the beasts talons whipped forth at his legs. He momentarily crouched before springing off the ground to evade it. Nimble fuckers, those Elves.

Of course, the battle just had to be evened out by the arrival of more... as Vulps so ironically put it, bloody hell chickens. Kiros called out to the appearing foes, and he spun around to deal with them. They emerged from the depths of the cavern, making the same damned discordant noises the first did.

The foolish decision to turn his back to the foe they were originally battling cost him. The desperate strike the vulture made had collided into him with more force than the last, forcing him from the ground and quickly back down to it with a metallic thud. By whatever deity's grace—Itra's perhaps—the talon only scratched the back of his head and left a minor wound. Although small, it bled profusely regardless. "Fucking... bastards!" he lifted his head and balled his fist, slamming it upon the ground. These buzzards were a hassle to deal with last time, but he'll be damned if he's forced to run from them a second time. Anger enveloped his mind, the slice across the back of his head waned into a mere, irritating pricking sensation. He stood and conjured his weapon into his hands again, but it wasn't only his empathy magic that amplified his body.

He could feel it now. That familiar surge of divine magic that invigorated him the last time they stepped foot in this literal hellhole. How could he forget the feeling of a God's touch? The bowstring bequeathed to him coruscated in response as it entwined down the staff in this form.

As Xihuitl and Vulps dealt with the first, he shall attempt to deal with second and third. Imbued with arcane might from both Itra's holy blessing and from his own Empathy magic, he shot forth in a burst of enhanced speed, his armored boots stomping against the hard floor with each step.

Reaching his target, he leapt several feet into the air next to it. He wound his torso, tightening his grasp around the staff and swung the blade towards the beast's neck with the intent to bleed it out, if not cleave its head from its shoulders completely.

Of course, he was out for blood for both of them, and eliminating these creatures before more show up would be the best option. If his first strike went unobstructed, he would make a grab for the beast's shoulder before it even hit the ground, hoisting himself up into a precarious, short-lived standing position. He would use it as a mere stepping stool, taking another large jump for the other as quick as he could manage. He would have descended towards it, aiming to plunge his blade into the back of this other vulture.

 

[Tevnir Rahjal]

Tevnir had, to an extent, checked out during the journey to Ravaryn. He had much to sketch, much to write, much to riff about, and he took every second he could to spend on leisure activity before anything got serious, strenuous. He played before lanterns-out when they camped, chatted with his companions gleefully as he made detailed sketches of each of them. When they got to the Valley of Decay, he ignored the sense of horror that struck him in order to sketch out the mountains, which glinted the stark-white of sunbleached bones. Helped Artamese re-find her bearings.

And finally, three days later as promised. They approached Ravaryn. He jotted down a swift sketch, yet again, and took note of whatever colour and striking detail he could while they were still outside.

The sudden appearance of a hardshelled creature, voice buzz-and-click, had gotten the hackles up on both Kiros and Xzaar, which didn't bode well. Tevnir, however, didn't see such an eminent reason for alarm and only readied his left hand to a throwing knife, right hand firmly gripping the reins on his horse. The creature approached slowly, spearhead raised more or less straight up like a guardsman at a walk, and it's thin antennae flicked to and fro with a similar amount of interest as a cat's whiskers might in a new house.

Just as soon as the alarm came, it went, with Kiros relaxing his staff and kneeling to assist the insect, making a motion at his necklace, and that was that. Tevnir would have to speak to the fellow properly later.

Then Kiros led them into Ravaryn proper. Tevnir would've been taking sketches, but the rancid stench of rotting flesh, entrails, and ligament had hit Tevnir in the face with full force, and if there was one thing worse to Tevnir than a ship ride, it was the reek of what would've looked like a battlefield to him, had his eyes not immediately begun to water and blot out the sight. He coughed and gagged desperately, heaving dryly before his stomach rather swiftly made him stagger sharply to the direct right to purge on the stone floor, away from the group and the walking path.

After several tense moments of half-breath, he wiped his eyes, getting an unpleasant look at what was left of his last meal, and finally the inundating of his nose and lungs with the reek was complete, oversaturation leading to no longer detecting the smell. He wrenched himself upright and began to look around.

I would bet everyone recognizes the sound of me vomiting by now. I wonder if my sense of smell will ever recover from this?

His eyes dance over the body of Andekhah, festering, steaming with rot and illness. The mangled and pus-green corpses of hundreds of no doubt equally vile-smelling, hardshelled creatures strewn around, similar to the fellow in their party.

This is absolutely petrifying. What happened here?

And then each and every one of the Nine layers of the Hells broke loose. A massive, disgustingly feather-patched, quadrupedal bird-creature had wrenched itself from whatever rotting hole it was born in and set it's crusty gaze on the party. Kiros yelled. Xzaar yelled. The bird screeched with such ear-shattering shrillness that it sent Tevnir's ears ringing and set his vision into a blur again, the power of it disturbing his usually impeccable balance.

Swings were taken, Xzaar and Kiros were in a battle with the creature, and Vulpes threw himself at the thing, screaming and cursing it from talon to beak with "Bloody Hell Chicken!" or so Tevnir assumed, his head felt like was stuck between the dome and clapper of the bell in his travel case. Even if it hadn't been that, it still worked well, and so that's what he'd call this thing in his writing, later.

The jester Tevnir had dueled with seemed unaffected by this whole display, and instead pulled forth his lyre, plucking from it a soothing song, mildly muffled to him. After a few moments, Tevnir's head began to clear of disorientation and fear. The fight before him became easier to see, easier to process beyond the basest sensations of terror, disgust, and the air-wobbling power of magic.

Zakariah's song, the nearest, was magical. A scholar named Dana, second nearest, had focused something upon the Fae. There were two other bursts from the fighters near the chicken. The insectoid fellow had scurried off into the fight.

"Another arrives! Two more!" Shouts Kiros, warning, and they both reply with their own piercing screeches, rattling Tevnir's head, but less so.

Xzaar throws out a "Fucking bastards!" as he goes for them.

Tevnir comes to a swift conclusion. Get the first one down, then the rest of us are free to help.

So he draws a throwing knife and approaches with determination, coming within a good aiming distance and giving it a fierce throw at the bird's soft, unprotected breast, taking care to aim for broad targets, to avoid the other fighters. Then another knife. A stride forwards. Another. A stride. Another. A full approach. He hopes the knives struck true as he draws his shortsword, whipping it down and around to meet a foreleg as it flails, then a jump backwards to avoid a retaliating strike.

 

[Zakarias]

How the chaos stirred and broke and swelled. Shrieks. Spills. The flutter of wing, the pierce of blade. And magick. Yes. Magick most Divine.

Curious. How very curious.

Still, through all the excitement, the jester went on with his melody. For discipline was the performer's truest power. And when the other plucker of strings snapped to, brandished steel pinions of his own to let fly, Zakarias changed his run of chords. Strings loosed notes fast and free as wind in a storm. And what stale air did hang about saw itself stirred with the notes of the jester's lyre.

For discipline was good, yes, discipline let the song go on. Structured and true. But spontaneity too, yes, it made for a better show.

So, rigid as the plucker of strings and drawer of knives was, arms supple yet flexed. Eyes keen. Trajectory all but painted upon the very air between he and his target, to a learned eye, at least. To an eye that had watched and waited and taken in so many things for so many years.

Said plucker, said drawern, now turned knife thrower, let fly his biting tools. And Zakarias plucked too sweet sounds that swept the very wind behind the knives. Let them tumble faster. Let them fly truer. Let them sink all the deeper for the power of the gales that guided them, one after another, in full and accompanied approach.

Zakarias laughed with glee, and did a little twirl, still behind those braver before him.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Dashing ahead of the group had allowed him to retrieve his staff and regain his access to magic, yet had also placed him before two additional Skycres now joining the fight. With his incantation complete, and his focus on weaving magic no longer required, Kiros ran at a full sprint. He hadn’t time to look back, but rushed as fast as he could to cover that might be found nearer to the entrance. Though could not see the skycres advance, he could tell they were closing in rapidly by the increasing volume of their ground-shaking footsteps. Nor could Kiros see the incoming swipe one was making. The first skycre had attacked him only by attempted bite, and the greater range of the skycre’s long limbs had yet to be fully realized.

As the beast approached to swing, Kiros could feel an odd sensation emanating from Heirahit, and the brass symbol at its top emitted an orange glow. Unfocused and unprepared for Her unexpected communication, it rendered the once audible sounds around him so dim and muddled that he could hardly hear anything. Itra had seemingly chosen this moment to communicate with Her priest, denying him clear senses while he was busy running for his life!

“What are you doing here? Where are your robes!?

Did you allow that vermin to encroach?

Slay those winged intruders, lest you be smote!”

Vulpesen was lunging towards Kiros who made his rapid return to the group. The priest was caught with a tackle that took both to the ground an instant before the skycre’s massive claw swung harmlessly above their prone bodies. Thanks to the swift actions of Vulpesen, Kiros escaped without harm – but Heirahit had not fallen flat nearly fast enough with him. Caught by the skycre’s missed strike, it was sent sliding along the floor towards Artamese a short distance away. He’d just gotten a hold of the thing again, too.

Vulpesen landed with his legs bent into an unnatural form, which Kiros caught only a brief glimpse of before the zorren sprang away from him again. Dana’s spell was timely, and the blast of light she launched infused Vulpesen with a much needed burst of speed. Landing atop what he'd aptly termed a 'hell chicken', Vulpesen managed to catch a hold of it and remain attached to its back, guiding the avian beast away from the group while it flailed and turned about in attempts to shake him off.

Xihuitl, left without time for proper greetings, darted this way and that as he braved the sudden and chaotic battle to join Vulpesen in taking down the beast. The insectoid deftly ducked beneath the swipe of its claw and managed to scale the massive bird, scrambling behind it. Once secure, vicious thrusts drove his spear into the back of the creature's head, blood pouring from the punctured wounds until one plunged beneath the vertebrae within its neck. The skycre gave a flap of its wings and a shriek at the pain the wound had inflicted.

With the speartip so close to the spinal cord, Xihuitl needed only to drive it a short distance further to sever it and deliver death to the avian beast. Yet, its wild flailing would not make the task easy. With the skycre thrashing in one direction and then another, simply holding on would be a struggle. Only Vulpesen's continued wrangling made it feasible, and as wildly as it thrashed about it remained beyond striking range from the remainder of the group, Tevnir included.

The bard had ceased with his song in favour of an option far more violent. One knife, followed by another, was sent soaring into the giant bird's chest, with the tune played by Zakarias taking a notable turn. The flying knives were propelled faster, turning into gleaming blurs that pierced deep with the cold bite of steel. The bird staggered, then gave a hacking screech that propelled a spray of bright red blood against the cavern floor. The knives had buried themselves within the beast's lungs, and it was rapidly bleeding out from the inside. While still stunned by the lethal wound, Tevnir had managed to strike at its forelimb. The counterattack the skycre delivered with its other was deftly dodged by the bard's timely rearward bound.

Blood filled its lungs, and the skycre finally came crashing to the ground. Dying, but not quite there yet. With continued control over it, Vulpesen might be able to keep it still long enough for Xihuitl to finish the badly battered creature by spear. Though even in death, the toxic barbs covering the beast remained a threat, and were they not careful the might collide against them as it fell.

Xzaar had taken a hit from its swinging beak, but dodged the swipes that followed and bolted into the fight. The Blessing of Might, his own empathy magic and the finesse granted by Zakarias' plucked song all aided his dexterous attack. The skycre could not dodge fast enough, and the blade cleaved through flesh with enough force to cause the gargantuan creature to stumble. The head remained attached, but the wound was gaping. Xzaar next leapt atop it, and by the time it had spun around to strike, he was already leaping towards the next one beyond.

He stabbed his blade into the third skycre's back. It bellowed in pain, yet its wound was far less grave than what Xzaar had dealt the other. The beast gave a quick roll in place, aiming to either shake the elf off, or grind him against the ground, beneath its many spines. While both skycre had ceased their advance, the pounding of footsteps continued. A foreboding sign that even more would soon arrive.

Xzaar had advanced some distance within by now. From his vantage point, he'd be able to see clear down the corridor the skycre had arrived from, were he to look. And as Itra delivered her message to Kiros, he could feel Her presence, too. Unlike Kiros, his hearing did not deafen, nor could he hear the full content of Her message. But four words were made clear:

Slay those winged intruders

From the corridor, four were scrambling towards him, kept tightly packed together by the confines of the passage. All fought among each other for progress, and this complete absence of co-ordination slowed their advance. At the same time, Xzaar's bowstring that wrapped his staff glowed again, even brighter than it had earlier. The elf would have a clear shot, if not for the aggressive skycre he'd just stabbed lunging out in an attempt to maul him with both forelimbs.

The first skycre was already essentially slain, brought swiftly down by the coordinated efforts of all. It made a weakened swipe at Tevnir in its dying throes, but the motion was so slow it was more a gesture of desired malice than a truly threatening attack.

The second, halfway to death, bled buckets of blood from the wide open wound in its neck. It darted towards the group in an erratic approach. With the long length of its strides, it soon closed distance with both Xihuitl and Vulpesen, collapsing on a forelimb to reach for the insectoid with its other. Even if its grasp could find no purchase, its sharp talons remained a threat to the integrity of his carapace.

Yet the third, while less immediately menacing, remained the greatest threat of all. Xzaar needed a clear strike down the corridor, and the skycre before him could only complicate the task. The monstrous avian bore only a puncture wound, remaining in far better fighting condition than its brethren. If Kiros only had his staff, Xzaar could be kept safe behind a Luminant Curtain, but without Heirahit it could not be invoked. Yet others might have another solution to keep it busy.

Either way, prompt and decisive action was required, else they'd have four more of the feathered monstrosities to contend with shortly.

Vulpesen Zakarias Tevnir Rahjal Xzaar Vixneel Empyrean Xihuitl Lord Blackwell Tonwee And any others joining in

 

[Empyrean]

“Are those bugs?” She asked quietly, fiercely and not far from Tevnir’s ear. “I detest bugs…” Muttering darkly yet fascinated all the same she pulled her book back out, a charcoal stick warming in her hand as she began to sketch the scene of the fatally wounded Shaxa. Her eyes darted up and down, her mind capturing snapshots to put to paper while deft hands began recognizing anatomy of corpses. She made side notes to point out and compare known anatomy of bugs with certain details she felt were pertinent.

She paused—the whole party did, it seemed. Time froze for only a moment, and everyone waited with bated breath at the sound of heavy footfalls and scraping. Artamese did a double-take when the creature revealed itself, and sketches of the slain Shaxa were forgotten. The screech was enough that she dropped sketchbook and stick to cover her ears and protect the glasses perched on her nose as she crouched.

“Don’t let it outside! It can fly and will hunt us down!”

With startled, shaking hands Artamese recovered her book and stick and fumbled to tuck them away. Why she felt the need to protect such precious information fled her scared brain. The bird-like creature was large—entirely too large for a party of their caliber, surely.

“Kill it!” Kiros shouted with true fear coursing through the command—and then time moved again, fluidly—as if the entire party woke and sprinted into action.

One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine—what is that?! Artamese whipped her head around. Music, there was music. She stole a glance at Zakarias, to the—is that a lyre? Artamese asked herself. She saw it, the brief moment she paid attention—the flow of magic her glasses revealed to her; that was her trade—to identify magic schools as they were happening. An enchantment, perhaps. She didn’t dwell on the target or the effects (and perhaps it was because she felt more in control in that moment).

Nine? Nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen-sixteen. She ran her index and thumb on the organic stones that were threaded onto the glasses she wore. When she wasn’t wearing them (rare as that was, she was frustratingly near-sighted without them) they hung around her neck. Each stone was used to contain a spell she could cast.

Two skycre more appeared, and Artamese felt the pit of her stomach drop. Vulpesen’s rapier proved deadly and elegant—far more than her swordsmanship could ever. Which was to say, she had none! Perhaps that was another skill she’d make time to pick up lest she find herself in this terrible situation again—Gods forbid that she might!

Dana, like herself, had hung back at first, only to join the fighting when the other two arrived. Artamese hoped she could commit to memory these actions—enough to vividly recall and chronicle them. Perhaps the bards would?! If they all lived to tell the tale.

Artamese advanced with caution, though she ducked and shrieked more often than naught. She was no warrior, nothing remotely as practiced as these adventurers. She had seen it in the middle of the fray—the staff that Kiros carried with him. None had yet stumbled upon it. The ground shook as talons raked and butchered bird-like bodies were viciously attacked. Falling to her knees, Artamese crawled—crawled and crawled, her knees already aching from the scored, rocky ground and her stomach churning over the blood and gore that splattered the field. She felt the staff at her trembling fingertips and pulled it closer, stumbling to her feet.

Breathe, Arty…breathe. Steeling her nerves, Artamese felt for the fourth stone on her left side, gripping it firmly. Maybe…Hoisting the staff in a position she could better hold it, she ran—ran for Kiros, as if her life depended on it. She was afraid, and her lungs were already searing from how hard and fast she ran. “KIROS!” she screamed at him. Clumsily, and not without almost tripping, Artamese flung his staff back at him—only to keep running—running towards Xzaar and the third Skycre.

Her brain was moving faster than her body could. She second-guessed her choice of the fourth stone and considered the eighth, finger gliding down the oblong shapes. Ground the creature? The scent of death—scavengers? Maybe. Blood and viscera covered. Aggressive. Spine—spine difficult. Plates? Are those plates?! Can’t see—can’t tell. Toughened hide. Wiry hair—hair!! A weak spot. Hair meant flesh, flesh meant a soft spot to attack.

She chided herself for second-guessing and gripped the fourth stone again—a smooth piece of Red Jasper. She felt it crack, as the seal broke and the stone split in two in the palm of her hand, releasing the magic within. The broken stone dissolved into the catalyst for the magic which burst into dancing flames of white and ultramarine. “PHOENIX, RISING!” she screamed the basic incantation she had programmed the conjuration for, the fire only accenting the rancid stench of decay around them.

Artamese flung it for the wiry hair of the skycre, feeling her skin tan and reddened at the intense heat output. It soared through the air before stretching into the great span of a blazing phoenix. She sucked in air—as if the intensity of the heat stifled her ability to breathe. The entire left side of her face was distinctly tanner than her right, burning so badly it itched fiercely. Her hand received equal treatment—for she wasn’t spared from the flame.

The ground was slick with blood from creatures slain, making the muddy ground difficult to regain her stance as she stood again, but she was already thinking of what was next to come. A punch of conjuration was not the only spell contained in her stones. Bewildered, she looked around—she could see the offensive magic being used, the boosts—all the schools manifesting in her line of sight through her glasses—which she promptly adjusted on the bridge of her nose, “Bloody Gods I will never eat bird again after this!” She declared indignantly, reaching up with her right hand. Finding the sixth stone—one that was more defensive, if she played the timing right, Artamese swallowed her fear and went after the third Skycre again.

She couldn’t say she was good at fighting, she was a scholar after all and she was certain it went without saying to find “the soft bits”. It only bothered her that she didn’t think to go for it sooner as the others had. She had to be sharper next time!

Vulpesen Zakarias Tevnir Rahjal Xzaar Vixneel Kiros Rahnel Xihuitl Lord Blackwell Tonwee Dana Kass

 

[Xzaar Vixneel]

His hands clasped around the staff; he could feel that the attack he used had struck with less vigor than the last. Perhaps if he had managed to jump higher, he could've dealt that first devastating blow onto the beast's head instead of its neck. Either way, the second was on deaths door. Unfortunately, the current one hasn't even stepped onto the porch. The monster made a sharp turn of its body for a roll that threatened to crush him. He yanked his weapon free from its flesh, then jumped—rather, was thrown—from its back, the buzzards spines scraped against the jagged rocks instead while he made his escape.

He rolled once along the ground and stood up. The staff within his hands flashed with the same light as before, transforming back into a bow. He needed to put distance between himself and it, since he wouldn't be able to land another attack of the same caliber as before since the blessing of might wore off. His grip around the bow softened, the rage effect of his magic shutting off to conserve the emotion.

The elf did not have a plan. An underground fight in a cave is something he'd strive to avoid. The absence of soil, vegetation and sunlight would all contribute to any seeds he'd pull from his pouch being a waste of mana; while he can grow them without those components, it would be the equivalent of battling a humanoid fashioned completely out of toilet paper. Missing one ingredient renders the entire product weakened but attempting to do so without any would be foolish.

That's when he perceived a familiar presence. A divine one. One that he couldn't pinpoint. It felt as if she were directly down there with the party, yet lightyears from arms reach.

Slay those winged intruders

Spoken in the same peremptory tone as when she instructed them hasten their pace to affront the thief of the Crook months ago, he knew how to potentially change the tides. The last battles on this continent left them cautious and determined never to allow the misfortune that befell them the first time. On foreign territory brimmed with enigmatic foes, divine blessings may surely be needed. It took weeks of methodic, selenology calculations and several appeals sent to stall their archaeologist expedition until this opportune moment.

The moment that Pneria’s at its fullest.

Spoiler: [I][COLOR=rgb(0, 107, 135)]"Well... let's try it."[/COLOR][/I]

The fulgent bowstring emit even more light than before, the intensity only rivaled by the scintillating Pyromancy that Artamese couldn't have chosen a better time to conjure. Shit! The bastard arched it's limbs out to tear him to ribbons, but Xzaar outstretched both his arms as the vultures limbs were inches away from him. The talons quivered and tensed, then crashed to the ground. He had activated the emotion of Desire, amplifying the pull of the gravitational field near himself to anchor the beasts limbs to the ground.

He could not hold this for long for a multitude of reasons. One, this was his last few drops of Desire, and two, the four buzzards in the passage continued in their uncoordinated approach. He did not have the time, nor the resources, to keep it in place to prevent it from dodging Artamese's phoenix, thus the effect on the creatures talons released, and he made sure to move the hell away from it after it did.

Barely separating himself from that skirmish, he was forced to engage in the next. He could not waste the enchantment. He reached back, grabbed an arrow and quickly placing it onto the string. Pulling back the arrow, he sought aim at one of those execrable fiends in the middle and fired it with haste.


Kiros Rahnel Xihuitl Vulpesen Empyrean Zakarias Tevnir Rahjal Dana Kass

 

[Zakarias]

Spears sank down to spine, knives sank into flesh. Blood spilled and sloshed and fire crackled to life, hungry for any fuel that would feed its insatiable want to go on with its burn.

Clever. Yes, very clever.

Zakarias smiled wide behind the painted face of his mask. Let his fingers glide across the chords of his ancient instrument, and where that licking flame did find the hairy flesh, so soft, so burnable as it were, he would guide the winds. Each note, each chord that rung out from the strings that did sing, coaxed the breeze closer.

To better feed the fire that so hungrily ate at the chickens.

Cosmic intervention.

The masked jester laughed, raucous with glee. As those words, four, reverberated through space.

Slay, oh yes, those most foul and winged and rude intruders.

A run of of notes and chords as the jester but danced about the rear line. Red horns a flop, bells a ting and chime. Let the others bleed. Let the others hurt. But let none say he did not help.

For you see. Mad as the buzzards were. Ears they did have. Holes through which the notes of his twisted song did sink. And those notes. Pink with the ethereal mist of an eternal dusk, fluttered with wings across matter most grey. A harsh descent in the scale of C.

Desire's lock waned, but the Red Jester's song wrapped around the mind of that creature most close to the hero who dared face four jostling chickens. Trapped in a prison of the mind, the long limbed skycre that harried the archer empath could do little more than suffer as it stayed stunned in a silent stupor. Fire, all the while, fulfilling its own desire.

Kiros Rahnel Xihuitl Empyrean Tevnir Rahjal Dana Kass Vulpesen Xzaar Vixneel

 

[Itra]

The place was an utter mess.

There were bits and pieces of Andekhah and her worthless spawn still strewn about the stone floor. Arethil hadn’t even completed three trips around Lessat, which was brief by any divine measurement of time. Decaying flesh still seeped from what remained of their vile little shells, staining the structure too sacred to be marred by their rotten remains.

Whatever had spurred Her priest’s arrival was well beyond Her awareness. He could not be here on account of Seneschal, as She was dead. Irritating that She barely had a moment to question him before he clumsily lost hold of his staff, cutting communication with him regretfully short. She could hardly even be sure that he’d done so unintentionally, given his continued disobedience displayed since She’d sent him here last. He’d tried to involve Her in Farreach, under the excuse that another had known Her name. Did he not expect others to have learned of Her, when he had been the one to announce Her? Did he not expect Her word to travel far among the mouths of mortals, when She was a goddess?

Evidently not. Attentiveness had not been a virtue he'd displayed much of lately.

Another hand touched the staff, and it was not that of Her priest. It was neither one of those ugly beasts this time but a mortal hand, thankfully enough. The mortal did not know the value of the staff, for when she cried out a name it was Her priest's, not Hers!

If any of them even knew Kiros was Her priest. He hadn't even visibly worn his robes. She had made him Her emissary, and he wasn't just failing to fulfill those duties, but avoided them entirely! Yet again, She could not count on him acting in the capacity he'd been ordained. It seemed that it would be up to Her to provide the enlightenment Kiros would not.

“You bear My sacred staff, brought by My priest.

I am Itra, and these are hallowed grounds.”

Explain why you are carrying it, thief!”

Introduction had been given, but again the opportunity for communication was brief. The staff quickly left her hand to be caught by Kiros soon after, who wasted little time in preparing further magic. He could not cast and hear Her simultaneously, nor could She wait to deliver them lest this opportunity expire as the last did. Her priest clearly needed proper motivation.

“Cease casting! Hear My command and heed it!

Go and retrieve your robes! Then announce Me,

And properly, else I shall smite you down!”

He paused for a moment after She’d spoken, before pulling the outer layer of his attire off to reveal his white robes beneath. Yet once he had shed that tacky red garment, he remained still and silent rather than resuming the task She'd demanded! The divine magic so generously bestowed upon him went unused and wasted while he stood around. Finally, he turned to the others – but instead of weaving one of Her blessings upon them, he simply began to speak.

“I am harbinger to…” He began, despite the clearly unsuitable situation before him. Infuriating that Her instruction caused him to cease pursuit of his task. He would seemingly find and exploit any rationale to shirk his holy duty.

“Not now, you idiot! Kill those beasts first!

Then make mention of Me once they have died!”

He was ever useless if She didn’t spell things out exactly, and often still was if She did. Here in Ravaryn at least, She could keep watch over the situation. The one who returned his staff was weaving a spell, displaying much more foresight and sense than Her own priest. Magical energies were focused, and then released with the destruction of a carried catalyst. One was already dead, slain by the spear of the same insect-man that had acted as a guide for the group during the last expedition. The mere presence of fire spurred the other intruding beast into a panic while another continued to fiercely stab it. The confusion incurred by the presence of fire caused the beast’s hesitation, which was an exploitable situation that the bushy-tailed mortal wisely seized full advantage of. That one had not heard Her, yet fought Her hated foe with ferocity as if he had. Again and again, his blade plunged into the foul vermin, its blood splattering onto the floor at increasing pace and frequency. It took repeated wounds before it finally rolled over, threatening to crush him beneath its weight and poisoned spines.

Xzaar’s presence was another welcome surprise. He’d been a beneficial influence last time and could be counted on to heed Her word unflinchingly. He too had woven a spell, keeping the closest beast ensnared while he readied an arrow to fire. The enchantment couldn’t last, but it didn't have to, for another cast a spell that fed the flames. The result was a brilliant burst of fire and further pained shrieks from the afflicted vermin. Rather than attack it screeched and flailed, darting back and forth towards the entrance while Xzaar lined up his shot.

The beast that had combusted through magic barrelled towards the group near the entrance, prompting Her priest to step forth. Finally, he was actually helping. Orange light filled the cavern as he invoked the spell, starting as a thin line of light before extending outwards to form the Luminant Curtain. He'd done so just in time, catching the beast before it could reach the others. Despite the fire consuming it, it pushed on into the curtain, its motion made sluggish through the resistance imposed upon it by the curtain.

An arrow had been nocked against the golden strand of hair She’d gifted him, aimed square down a corridor where four more of the putrid creatures were scrambling to join the fray. The efficacy of the enchanted bow was dependent on both the fullness of Pneria and desperation of action, both of which were presently at a height. Xzaar had bravely put himself at the forefront and fired his arrow without hesitation. The string shone even brighter, filling the cavern with a rusted orange flash of light. The arrow streaked through the air and pierced the hide of one of the creatures to leave a wound with a glow of the same hue as the flash.

Their destruction had Her full encouragement. All of Her scorn poured into the effect that tore the wounded beast apart. The wound where the arrow sunk burst with a violent eruption of holy energy. What remained of its lower half and legs tumbled backwards, while its flying severed head bounced down the passage towards Xzaar. The numerous spines coating its body became speeding fragments from the explosion, killing the two beasts behind once buried within their vital organs.

Of the four, only one survived, and it surveyed its slain and burning flock as it emerged from the passageway. The surviving skycre's fear was readily apparent. It wasted little time with aggression and bolted towards the exit, crashing beak-first into the curtain Her priest had invoked. Evidently confused, it hesitated for a moment before turning around to sprint towards Xzaar, not slowing or stopping as it lowered its head to attempt a bite with its beak.

Three of them had been killed with one sacred arrow. Another had died by spear point, the beast constrained by the curtain steadily succumbed to the flames. Of the seven intruders, only two remained. One was bleeding to death, while the other remained in its state of confusion and terror.

It too, would soon perish. Once this sacred place had some sanctity restored, She could provide them with enlightenment. She may not have known what prompted their arrival, but their purpose was to hear Her holy word. This, She had decided and Her decisions were sacred law.

For their own good, that they had a goddess to guide them.

If only Her priest would realize he was so likewise spoiled...

Xzaar Vixneel Zakarias Tevnir Rahjal Vulpesen Xihuitl Empyrean Tonwee

 

[Xihuitl]

Chi'Xilixi had been considered an intelligent species by the cartographer's guild. Bearing tools and weaponry (albeit rudimentary), and possessing language and clear social structure, they had been useful allies and all-too-easily exploited in previous events.

That being said, the scene that Xihuitl witnessed threatened to tear him away from sanity. Fire and light, again as it had before, bent to the will of these visitors with devastating effect. When the skycre he had been riding fell Xihuitl deftly scrambled towards the group, only to have a leg snagged by a second looming beast.

The captivity was short lived, although the pain was not. That skycre, too, was slain. Xihuitl limped to a small pile of Shaxa corpses beneath an oppressive heat.

He was not privy to Itra's declarations, but when Kiros revealed white robes and a sense of renewed purpose, the insectoid recalled the terrible light that had split Andekhah's forces in twain and the vortex of power that had consumed the intruder with the Staff.

Only in the aftermath of carnage, with new corpses added to the old, did he inspect his leg. It hurt, but the hard plating had not cracked, and it could be moved with no small amount of pain. It would heal, and he would live.

His antennae twitched about in an attempt to ensure that no more monsters were coming. The unease he had felt amongst the corpses of hundreds of his species had vanished altogether, replaced by adrenaline and survival instinct.

"Kiros-friend!" he called, the clicks and buzzes of his native tongue translated by the magical stone at his throat. "Why do you return? The dead do not stir, yes?" He hoped beyond hope that Andekhah and her brood were truly gone, and that the events of the pass were not about to repeat.

The murals of the cavern remained as they had been, save one splattered with skycre blood. The shapes made little sense to the small chi'xilixi, but his multi-faceted eyes made a short pause on the carvings that looked like him.

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen panted and staggered off the twitching body of the fallen skycre. Its hide had been punched by spear and blade enough to leave quite a few vital leaks. "Bitch buzzards, all of them," he growled, his blade making a tight swirl to fling excess blood onto the ground.

"Well, looks like we're up for an exciting trip," the warlock announced as he watched the last one flee. His free hand lifted up and magical energy pulsed within him, waiting to be unleashed. Unendangered it would be easy to conjure a lethal spike to end the beast. But there was no need. It was done and thus, so was he. His hand lowered to pull a cleaning rag from his pocket and his eyes moved to survey the injuries around him.

"Everyone alright? Fingers, toes, and tails still attached?" Danger over, it was time to inspect casualties. Moved by both instinct and training, the Zorren was already walking around the crowd of his compatriots, looking for any blood that didn't belong to the putrid poultry.

 

[Xzaar Vixneel]

The divine arrow found its new home embedded within the skycre's body, followed by a fulgent emission of light that enshrouded its upper torso. The beast didn't even have enough time to screech in agony, for it exploded under Itra's righteous wrath. Flesh splayed from vein, sinew ripped from bone and muscle as blood splattered; its entrails unraveled in an instant. Spines flew off and thankfully slain the other two.

His arms felt heavy, his legs sluggish and uncooperative.​

With the majority of their adversaries dead, the fight was slowly winding down. He had not noticed it before as he was honing his shot, but Kiros had conjured a curtain of orange light to shield the party from a now charring skycre.

The luminant suddenly began to irritate him, causing a slight headache. Or was that the skycre. No, the blood tossed around the ground. His mind wasn't focusing either. A small line of blood slowly descended from above his eyebrow.​

...Course

The monsters decapitated head quickly barreled down the hallway from the immense force the explosion had generated. He hadn't enough time to move—let alone think—before it collided into his body like a chariot with Gerra as its driver. Thrown off his feet and knocked backwards, his bow flew from his hand as arrows flung from the quiver. He was sent into a momentary spiral before crashing back to the ground.

The cavern spun, oscillating in unpredictable pace. Once it began to cease, it only blurred. Xzaar groaned and placed his palms onto the ground, then rolled onto his back. Chest heaving, he put his hand onto his head. He already suffered one injury earlier—albeit a minor one—but this one certainly knocked the wind out of him. He pulled his hand back, the duplicated image of his hand rubbing the blood between his fingers. He squinted in an effort to improve his vision, perplexed at the blood that stained his hand.

Then, a tinge of pain alerted him to a wound above his eyebrow, one that he inadvertently exacerbated when he ran his hand over it to investigate it. He placed his fingers onto it again, grabbed hold on an object protruding from it. He pulled the Skycre's spine from his forehead, the realization that he has been poisoned seizing whatever fleeting concentration he could gather.

He didn't feel as if he was dying—whatever that felt like. Pain, yes. Sluggish, absolutely. Torment and bleeding to death, no. To him, that means he's alive and well.

Unlike the rest of the party, Xzaar was not afforded the luxury of a reprieve, and as he lay there struggling to lift himself after the poisoning and that forceful collision, the panic-stricken skycre advanced upon him. The bird toward over him and drove its head down to bite the elf. Scrounging up any awareness, he tapped into the stored emotion of avarice as he thrust his palm forward. Neon green lines of light woven itself into the air, just out of arm's length. It extended and arched, shielding the elf within a magical half-bubble. The force of the skycre's beak slammed into arcane shields full force, cracking it upon impact. Shit. He drew in a breath then applied more power into the shield, the cracks slowly beginning to mend as he concentrated. However, the poison had affected his cognition and repairing the damage was slow and difficult. It was exhausting more mana fixing the damage than keeping the shield active in this impaired state.

A second came, breaking it further. Then, a third, creating jagged streaks akin to lightning all around the barrier.

It wound its head up in preparation for the fourth.

 

[Terrified Skycre]

All the others were dead. Killed by little ones with fire that made them scream. Skycre did not want fire! Skycre did not want scream! Skycre wanted out, but light was in the way, and that did not make sense.

In the middle of the chaos was the little one that killed the others. Skycre knew not, but the little one could be killed with a bite!

But there was no bite, more light got in the way. Why? How?

And then the dead leapt forth with light and loud sound, carrying the scary fire with it!

Something made sense now – this was their food and their home now, Skycre understood! They could have it! They could eat it all! This place had too much fire and too much death! Skycre had to leave, and the way out was far away.

To the exit; fast, fast! Over the little ones, they could be dangerous, but they were not fire!

The sun outside was burning bright, but it was still not fire!

A shriek and a flap, and another, and another until the ground was far away.

Up where fire was not.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Beyond the shimmering curtain, he could see the source of the sound, catching sight of Xzaar just as the decapitated head of a skycre careened squarely into him. The impact carried enough force to send him tumbling over airborne before his rough return to ground, along with his bow that clattered against the floor beside him. Wounded by the large barbs launched by the explosion of Xzaar’s sacred shot, Kiros' was unaware of their poisonous properties. This ignorance led to false belief that he was shaken, but unharmed. Only when the panicked skycre advanced with further attack upon Xzaar did Kiros give the notion any doubt.

Xzaar remained on the ground as the beast struck at him with its beak. He barely managed to block its attack by a means of a magical barrier. Cracks formed in the protective field, but Xzaar had little time to mend them before the skycre struck again. Cracks ran even deeper through the barrier, and though Xzaar replenished the magic of the protective spell he had yet to stand or respond as the towering beast reared back and struck again.

The Luminant Curtain that had protected them was now an obstacle impeding Xzaar's defence. With a rap of Heirahit’s steel endcap against the stone floor, Kiros invoked an incantation of Immute to dispel the conjured curtain. An outstretched hand and focused mind directed the counter-magic upon it, dispersing the coruscating wisps of Pnerian light under controlled arcane unravelling. Once undone, there was only the burning body of a slain skycre between him and Xzaar.

Kiros stepped forth, lowering the bronze symbol atop Heirahit towards the ground on his approach to the combusting corpse. Once positioned beneath the body, he channelled the magic needed to invoke a Luminant Flash. A bright burst of light illuminated the ground, and the concussive force unleashed from the spell sent the beast only a foot off the ground, yet the force of it sent flaming feathers into the air. Disappointed with the outcome, Kiros was not expecting such a meagre effect to take the skycre’s attention from Xzaar.

Yet, it did.

The startled skycre jumped into the air, nearly smacking its skull against the cavern’s ceiling. Ground shook once it landed, and heavy footsteps took it away from its burning brethren to the cavern’s perimeter. After some darting back and forth with further ground shaking steps, the skycre dashed towards the outdoors at full speed, giving no regard for whomever might be in the way. A bounding leap and a flap sent it soaring overhead of any that might be near the entrance to crash against a corner of the cavern wall. Talons clawed over stone as it frantically scrambled to make it through the passage, clambering towards sands lit by the daytime sun outside the ruins.

Xzaar remained where he was, blood flowing over the floor. Kiros dashed to his side in an instant.

“Xzaar!” Kiros called out, hoping to elicit a response. He prepared to heal him, but discovered his wounds appeared only flesh deep. Yet somehow, they were sufficient enough to incapacitate. A glance around his surroundings for clues was brief, soon yielding the suspicious bloodied barb to his searching eyes.

Venom appeared responsible for Xzaar's state. Though Kiros could still heal him, this complicated the task. He prepared a Blessing of Health, seeking to mend only his bruises and fractures – Xzaar's wounds were better off open to allow the egress of poison from his blood. With spoken words in an ancient tongue, and an outstretched hand, Kiros lay the blessing upon Xzaar. A faint glow emitted from his chest as the restorative magic worked over him. To Kiros' dismay, it went beyond internal injuries to seal his wounds as well.

He knew not how nor why his magic carried such unintentional effect. It was not unlike the disturbance months prior that rendered magic unpredictable. Without sign of any other cause, the theory appeared chillingly sound. What had he done? His return had no doubt caused a further disturbance. For whatever reason, a second arcane catastrophe appeared imminent. Not only would disaster sweep Arethil anew, the opportunity to heal Xzaar would be brief. He still remained injured before him, and the window to undo the damage he'd suffered was rapidly closing.

"Everyone alright? Fingers, toes, and tails still attached?" Vulpesen called out.

“Xzaar has suffered the... hell chicken's toxin, by barb.” Kiros replied, knowing no proper name for the gargantuan winged beast. Of them all, it was likely only Xihuitl did.

But time was of the essence. Kiros reached into a pocket, pulling a jar of ground up rust that was a reagent for his hastily planned healing. Blood had to be let, and then replenished to properly dilute the venom. The less concentrated the poison, the easier it became to treat what remained. Jar in hand, Kiros reached into his robes anew to reach for a knife carried with him, but words from Itra interrupted him before he could withdraw it.

“Why do you stand there when he has been healed?” She asked, causing Kiros to pause and construe an answer that minimized risk of divine hostility.

Unknown to Kiros, the spell had carried additional effect over the contaminant within Xzaar's blood. It would cause Xzaar's blood pressure to plummet, which in turn could cause him to nearly pass out. Repleneshment took another instant. Most of the venom would be expunged this way, but Xzaar would not be rid of all of it quite yet. Given the healing applied, Xzaar was likely to feel no such symptoms for some time, but after whict the effects would continue to encumber him. Far from severe enough to leave him indisposed, there was bound to be severe discomfort.​

Poison still runs through his veins and-

“I have cleansed him of what has brought him harm!

Dare you doubt Me!? Cease stalling, lazy lout!

I gave you instruction, now see it through!” Shock took him at the revelation, aided by adrenaline borne from panic over perceived catastrophe. He had believed Xzaar's life in danger, and Arethil to be in peril. His state of temporary terror had been caused by Her unknown assistance, and nothing more, but he could not curse that with Her present to hear it.

...At once, Itra.

“And what of the one who stole Heirahit?”

She did not steal it, I am sure of it. She merely returned it-

“You tell Me you gave it away to her!?” That Her presence contributed by startling him was a truth best left unmentioned. She would never accept blame, nor anything that could be remotely construed or interpreted as such.

No, I dropped it and-

“You tell Me you confess to carelessness?” By the greater gods! Though She had been the cause for his clumsiness, he could say nothing of it. Despite Her aversion to taking blame, She quite frequently gave it.

I shall take greater care, Itra.

“See that you do on your next given task.

Foul it not with your negligence, you oaf!

Fulfill it with finesse fitting of Me.”

Thankfully, She was done – though regrettably only for the moment. With the departure of the last skycre, only the freshly killed bodies of those they’d slaughtered remained. There was relief that they had emerged victorious from the battle. Still, it was disappointing to have made it so far, only to be discovered by Her on reaching their destination.

There wasn't much he could've done about that. Kiros had little choice but to tap into arcane power, alerting Her to his presence in the process. An unfortunate consequence, but he simply could not sit idle and feign uselessness while others risked life and limb over his mess. For this very reason he had donned his robes beneath the cover of his kaftan, and carried Heirahit with Itra's holy symbol concealed. A last resort, to avert catastrophe at the price of Her undesired involvement. He now had explanation to give Her. He further had explanation to give the others, none of whom knew him as Her priest save for Xzaar and Xihuitl.

"Kiros-friend! Why do you return? The dead do not stir, yes?" Xihuitl asked him.

“They do not, friend. It was no ill omen that bid my return.” Itra may have been ill tempered and ill mannered, but She had not bid his arrival.

“Yet I know not that they won’t.” Awareness that She was listening in made introductions all the more stressful. He did not wish to lie, but he could not tell the truth. She’s surely smite him dead where he stood were he honest of his motivation and opinion of Her. Whatever reasoning he gave necessarily needed to satisfy Her, but without filling the heads of his companions with false notions. It was a fine line to tread.

“What we have done here has quelled great disaster, yet much remains uncovered.” Kiros added, before turning to the others. He hadn't planned to announce Her at all. Three days of hasty travel to avoid battle had been for nothing. Unaware of skycre feeding habits and habitats, the effort accomplished naught, and his ignorance caused him to suffer Her. Rather than leading a simple expedition as he desired, he would unwillingly have to introduce Her and reveal himself as Her emissary.

“I did not mean to deceive. Apologies that I could not introduce myself true prior, but I could not reveal myself for fear of disruptive commotion that might turn this expedition into a pilgrimage. My motives remain true, and our mission is one of discovery, but I carry deeper connection to this place than I have made known.” Kiros began, choosing his words carefully to convey truth to his companions without invoking ire from Itra.

“I am Kiros Rahnel, the lone priest of Itra – Goddess of Pneria, and Savior of The Crook, present here by Her will, to reveal this very place where She held presence mere months ago! Of magic's great threat, and the culprit who placed our very lives in peril! And of Her, and the wrath meted out against him for his transgression against Arethillian order!” Kiros paused only briefly. His introduction complete, it ought satisfy Her, yet it did not satisfy him. He'd no desire to learn more of Her, he already knew Her far too well for his liking. He wanted to discover Ravaryn, and he could not let this chance slip by even if She was here. The worst She could do was smite him. Even if this one killed him, now was the prime time to suffer it. To be struck down so shortly after announcing himself as Her priest might scare them away. Not only would it spare them introduction to Her, but it would reveal Her to be an unfit deity before them as his witnesses.

If he had to show Her, let him show Her true.

“And of Ravaryn itself, and what wisdom might be revealed within. She has sent me here to seek and share it!” Kiros concluded. Itra had done no such thing, and further She had punished him for exactly such a transgression during his efforts at Farreach. But he did not care. He would not impede discovery of Her true nature. If further clues lay within, let them seek them out.

With satisfaction at upholding his own scruples, Kiros now further held the sense of conficence he'd just feigned. Before his gathered companions, he stood in wait for Itra's response and expected wrath.

Vulpesen Zakarias Tevnir Rahjal Xzaar Vixneel Empyrean Xihuitl Lord Blackwell Tonwee And any others joining in

 

[Empyrean]

Artamese was too stricken to respond--which all the more made her look foolish to the Goddess, certainly. Even as Kiros tried to defend her, she couldn't bring herself to react. She had never once been in the presence of the Divine, and she was far more terrified than she thought she might be.

She could only shake her head the slightest bit and--after she was (though there was a moment of doubt) certain Itra wouldn't smite her into oblivion, Artamese checked the reflex to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She was a woman of science and magic--why was it so cursed-difficult to believe that pantheons and the like were real as well?

She wanted to speak--she wanted to say something--anything to defend herself. After all, of her sisters, she was the most bull-headed and strong-willed. Surely--surely she could say something, anything to placate this escalated situation?

"I--I didn--. That is to say. Well." Stumbling over words, Artamese exhaled her frustration, "Gods alive, out with it woman," She muttered to herself, "I didn't take anything!" She firmly stated out loud.

Only to realize Itra was already gone--and so, Artamese flushed with embarrassment, which made her burnt face hurt even more. She was still singed and banged up, smoke wafting from her bangs, her disheveled braid making her look even more ridiculous. Her glasses sat crooked on her nose and she took a moment to correct them.

Her whole body felt burnt from casting that spell. "I only have one healing spell, and I'd rather save it." She said flatly. It wasn't ideal--she was no proper mage like perhaps the others were. Artamese knew she had to make the hard decision to use what she had sparingly. "But I can dress wounds well enough. I've set some bones before." She offered to anyone who might need it while reminding herself silent that she would have to find a moment to apologize to Kiros later. It was entirely clear that he had been something of a victim in all of this.

 

[Itra]

Her priest was ready with a Blessing of Health, though it could only do so much against the venom injected into Xzaar's wounds. The spell had been among the first She had given, and still he did not seem to understand even the most basic of restrictions it had! To Xzaar’s great fortune that She was present to provide proper remedy and cover for Her priest’s ignorance. Such a display of negligence could poison the opinion of the others who were witness to such a failed attempt. To be regarded in such negative light due to Her priest’s poor example was last thing She needed.

What he evidently needed was further direction, for he remained still and idle. As if that were not enough, he expressed doubt in Her ability when She informed him! Ever the ungrateful fool, he’d make any excuse for delay, and find any cause for hesitation. How he accomplished anything without Her help was truly beyond Her.

There remained the matter of his missing staff to address. She’d assumed that woman stole it, until Kiros revealed that the true cause for his holy staff’s absence had been his own carelessness. Doubt was more fittingly placed upon Her priest, as always. The woman, as it turned out, had simply returned Her sacred staff to the hands of Her priest to which it was entrusted. Not knowing what she might make of the accusation, She neither cared – for She was well above mortal opinion. She had Her priest in attendance anyway, and to ensure proper interpretation of Her word was a responsibility She would see him shoulder, one way or another.

Though the scene before Her was far from expected, it was to Her benefit. He'd returned with an audience, and arrived with his robes donned and Heirahit in hand. It did take some prodding to actually get him to act as Her emissary. She'd not wait for him, given that trusting him to display initiative had failed Her last time. She'd no idea why Her priest was in Ravaryn, but She would dictate what he would do now that he was. As he spoke, She listened in to hear what reason brought him here, doubting he'd ever act to honour Her of his own volition. And as She suspected, none of them knew him as Her priest! He had done well to have maintained Her secrecy, when that was relevant, yet he failed to understand that the time for concealment had ended.

His excuse was that his secrecy had been for the purpose of avoiding the exact sort of commotion She sought. What She desired, he denied Her, and it was infuriating that he did! The entourage accompanying him was barely sufficient, but it would simply have to do. It was more than She ought to have expected of him.

Mischief remained assumed, for he had grown increasingly disobedient since Her judgment of The Crook's Thief. He'd attempted to draw Her into a squabble between mortals on the injudicious assumption that She sought to protect Farreach, for some reason. Later on in Ixchel, He'd crossed paths with the War-Father a third time despite Her aversion, and dared claim the continued encounters to be completely coincidental.

Perhaps Her attempts had found purchase. Perhaps he'd arrived out of reverence for Her and understanding of his place. She knew better than to count on it.

Kiros continued on to speak of the great disaster that had threatened Arethil, and of the wrath She meted upon its perpetrator. Wrath that he would do well to remember more often. Even when She made display of it, he seemingly soon forgot. Ever disobedient, he appeared to be of mind that She'd remain so permissive despite continued warnings. She still had yet to know what he wanted to do here in the first place, and She remained wary that he was motivated to transgress as he had before.

If he arrived in need of a greater lesson, so be it.

His purpose was one of discovery, or so he explained, speaking of Ravaryn as a location holding further revelations. She had never mentioned that when She had directly delivered instruction to him, and yet he said so regardless.

Finally! In prompting the party to delve into the ruins he'd displayed proper initiative. She'd worried Her efforts had been to no benefit, but Her relentless correction and punishment had rewarded Her with an actual priestly display! Proud and tall he stood, arm outstretched in wait for Her to grace them all with Her presence. She'd not keep them waiting. She could reveal much, now that Her priest had become cooperative.

“It is so. I shall give guidance to you,

Whom have arrived to learn of Seneschal,

Here in Ravaryn, Grave of the Goddess.”

Her voice carried multiple tones speaking in unison within the distortion of an echo too faint to be natural to the excavated cavern. The words were delivered not merely through their ears, but by the stirring of their very souls. Hers was a voice that called out from nowhere, yet everywhere. Even Her priest displayed shock, when he'd often heard Her before. Perhaps he didn't want to feel left out in the splendour the others surely felt when She graced them with Her voice.

“For though She has passed, Her lessons remain;

Murals are here for your enlightenment.

My priest shall lead you to look upon them.”

She concluded, with further given instruction to guide Her priest, and he bowed his head in reverence before moving to the murals. Such effort had been required to forge him into the emissary he acted as, and to provide Her with the unexpected opportunity to spread the wisdom that Seneschal no longer could. She doubted he'd do anything of the sort without some advanced motivation, and yet he had gone through the trouble of organizing such a pilgrimage.

As Her priest led the others to Seneschal's holy teachings, She felt a sense of true pride. Once before them, he pointed to the second one and spent some time before pointing a finger towards its centre.

Amazing art courtesy of Nidraak

“That looks familiar...” He remarked, before falling silent to his musing once more. Not only did he lead the others to the valuable knowledge he would dispense, he'd actually bothered to become familiar with it in the meantime. She wondered what other details they might find notable.

To see such a turn in his attitude absolutely elated Her. Proof that Her persistent efforts to push him to greater potential had finally paid off.

 

[Vulpesen]

The wilds and his contract had provided Vulpesen with many gifts. Healing was perhaps the least among them. Varos had taught him to seal his own wounds in an emergency, but purging toxins, thus far had eluded him. [Seems like we need to supplement my education,] he thought, grimly, sending his ideas towards his patron.

[Very well,] Varos responded. However, anything else the fae had to say would have to wait as Kiros revealed himself, or rather, who he served under. Itra's name was not unfamiliar to the Fae lord who heard it through his contractor's ears. But, it wasn't particularly well known, either. Another who sought knowledge and made a claim to divinity. In some ways they were quite alike. But the strands of secrets, read by the Fae spymaster spoke another story. [They do not get along,] Was all Varos offered before retreating back to his own business, thus leaving his warlock to his own designs.

"That certainly explains some things," Vulpesen offered as he knelt by one of the fallen beasts. It stank, horribly, and as he drew his dagger. Vulpesen loathed what he was about to do next, or rather, he hated its implicated future. He cut away a slab of the Skycre's body, opting to take the meat from its thigh where he could avoid the spines and poisons that stood elsewhere.

Itra's voice stopped him mid cut and Vulpesen's head snapped around, looking about for the origin of the voice. Loud and commanding, it was a far cry from the whispers of Varos that he had grown accustomed to. Still, it was hard to be amazed at the voice of another's god when you had already knelt at the feet of your own. "At least she's not shy."


After collecting the meat and wrapping it in some paper from his travel pack, Vulpesen followed after Kiros to find the murals. "I've got a feeling there's a story here. And something tells me, the ending might not be a happy one."