2018-01-06: The Harvest
- Log: The Harvest
- Cast: K.K., Riesenlied, Ethius Hesiod, Catenna, Rose, Corwynt, Rosaline Calice, Noeline, Jacqueline Barber, Ida Everstead-Rey, Cyre H. Lorentz, Dean Stark, Ryudo, Xantia, Avril Vent Fleur, Cecilia Adlehyde, Kourin, Fei Fong Wong, Emma Hetfield, Gwen Whitlock, Jack Van Burace, Sword Dancer, Rudy Roughnight, Id
- Where: Baskar Colony
- Date: January 6th, 2018
- Summary: The prodigal son returns, to find his home in turmoil. To save his home, his people, his brother, he and his companions fight back against darkness and futility, while the Trial Knight watches ever on from above...
=============================<* Baskar Colony *>============================== Baskar Colony is the closest thing to a capital for the Baskar Tribe on Ignas. Nestled high in the northwestern mountains, this small village is where many of the Baskar elders dwell. The homes here are simple but imposing structures, often carved into the walls of the mountains themselves. The scant wood here he goes to providing fire and warmth for cold nights. Provisions are limited to what is given by families who live here, as there aren't any dedicated stores; similarly, no inns or hotels provide respite. However, the elders' knowledge will sometimes lure the determined and desperate to this place.
<Pose Tracker> K.K. has posed.
Wehaca is a beautiful land.
And it is beautiful now, even in its misery.
It's hard to see the place it once was -- still is, and can be -- through the mire that has possessed it so. The storm began at the Ordeal of the Nahual, located specifically and unnaturally at the place of this Baskar tribes' trials. And now?
Now the peel of thunder and flash of lightning and downpour of rain engulf even Wehaca ceaselessly, spreading itself like a dour blight of hopelessness.
Houses smolder. Structures crumble. The ground cakes with the slosh of muddy water as raindrops fall thick from canyon walls. People flee, desperate and frightened of a thing they understand just enough to know the danger of what they do -not- understand. And all around them, vapors of black and purple fill the air, drifting upwards from blighted ground.
Singing whispered songs of sorrow and ruin into the souls of all who traverse this now discordant land.
The land is saturated with it. The air. The people. With the foul, fetid presence of Malevolence. Hellions have been drawn to this place, or perhaps changed into it by this place, and they are swift on the approach for the villagers yet to flee. Many succumb to the Malevolence, falling into helpless disarray, leaning slothful on buildings or wallowing in the muck.
Unnatural. And too fast a spread. Almost like this has all been pent up. Drawn in from other sources, other places. Almost as if -something- were generating all this pure dissonance.
And if one is even remotely spiritually inclined, they will feel the source in a heartbeat.
The shrine of Noua Shax. One of a pair, but this one had a precious secret. A precious secret found. Bodies lie strewn across the rain-slicked mud of the temple grounds, some conscious, some not, but all alive -- alive, but badly beaten, with wounds not wholly spiritual. Some of them, if talked to, mutter things about a black blade, a white knight.
That something happened to Leon Lorentz, their champion--
But he is nowhere to be found. And deeper in, past the blasted and warped doors of the shrine, within the large antechamber past its doors, the source of all this wrongness can be found.
A black blade with ebbing, purple edges. To anyone who was there at the Lahan incident, they know exactly what this sword is.
Buried into the breast of a mighty statue of the lion Noua Shax. Imbued with slowly tainting spirituality.
A Guardian Statue.
Lines of violet and black run through the statue like veins, throbbing with every pulse of the blade like a beat of a heart. Something is happening to it. Something wrong. Something bad. A protective ward of pure, thick Malevolent energy enshrines it like a cocoon, a protective chrysalis of sorrow. And behind that barrier, they wait. White armor. Horned helm.
Unmoving and unmoved, the Trial Knight waits amidst this seeping misery that was once a beautiful land, now so strikingly reminiscent of what was wrought of the remains of Lahan. Waiting, patiently, as the corruption of the blade sparks with dawning, malevolent life.
Waiting, for the ones who will come to stop this.
As they must.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
In the darkness of Wehaca's hour of need, there is a single point of light. A shine that carries itself high in the skies, past the crash and thunder of lightning and the massive downpour of rain, a beacon that wishes to carry itself as hope.
The villagers that look up can hear the beating of wings, the appearance of five Dragons that crest the range of the mountains beyond the village of the Nahual. And in that centre, Riesenlied has come, carrying the banner of the Ebony Wings with her -- and doing what she must, however she can, in the wake of what she has seen within the Sacred Grounds.
Her expression falls as she sees destroyed houses, the corrupt spread of Malevolence -- and villagers in need, desperate and in escape from the reach of Malevolence. She presses a hand to her throat, where her microphone sits.
"All units, spread out and protect the villagers -- open the hatches and carry anyone you can out of the affected zone!"
The four Dragons spread in a fan pattern as they press down -- they're mounted with familiar armored carriers on their backs, and several of the troops beckon for the villagers to retreat as the others defend them from the incoming Hellions.
"We shall not let this be another repeat of Lahan, or the Hollow...!"
Riesenlied's attention is drawn towards the black blade -- and her eyes widen further as she gazes upon the visage of the Trial Knight. Their words to each other echo -- on how their viewpoints will separate them, set them on a path of conflict.
"Trial Knight..." she clasps the Dragon's Tear, emanating her light brighter within the darkness. She lowers her head... and descends, to proceed towards the ground to assist those that she can, with her borders of light and the soothing power of her empathy.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
Ethius was there at the Sacred Grounds of the Baskar. A word filled his mind, visions of suffering and misery. He misunderstood the significance - misunderstood the time it promised and the contents of it, and so did it slip his mind other than the overwhelming sense of dread and despair to try and recall.
He overhears conversation with some other Caravan Kinship members about Wehaca and its significance. It is a prompt that he may have turned away from the roundabout invitation far too soon. Regardless of recent taxing circumstances of a vague timing and nature, he finds himself compelled to answer. After all...
After all... he... only has the memory of a compulsion, to some criteria he does not yet have a hold of. He simply must.
The shady white-haired Symbologist of inscrutible purpose and unknowable desires marches across the pounding rain and the sinking mud. The downpour ensures he cannot use his powder grenades, far too damp and packed. Certain other tricks in his arsenal become much too dangerous to use. For a man who seems to work with very little materials, he seems even more disarmed.
Whether in the company of some of the other members of the mercantile travelers or others, he simply knows that he must be here. This 'must' allows him to trudge through the misery of the Malevolence with intent and purpose intact, quarterstaff already held in both hands as though in anticipation of a dangerous encounter - but for how long can that sense of purpose from an incomplete impetus hold him?
<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.
She may have clawed her way out of a pool of utter, soul-shattering misery and malice, but the ghosts of it continue to haunt Catenna. Doubts dog her all the way from the Ordeal of the Nahual to the storm-choked village. You will fail. You will fail them all. You will fail Cyre and his family.
She buried the sensation for a moment by pausing to teach Rosaline Calice a few things, albeit hastily and on the fly. Perhaps it will be enough.
With a flick of her sword, she cuts through a smaller Hellion and swats it aside, only to widen her eyes as she gazes in full upon the ruined village and the people within it. This is all too familiar - like that horrible, malevolent grotto which nearly killed her simply through proximity.
Worse yet... it is already here.
Riesenlied seems to have the villagers under control. Catenna heads for the temple. And indeed... the Trial Knight is not only already here, they've been here for far too long already. The dark power beginning to roil through the statue, behind that malicious barrier, is evidence enough to her that the damage may have already been done. That something extraordinary will be needed to even begin to save Wehaca, and the statue of Noua Shax at its heart.
Catenna glares at the Trial Knight for a couple of seconds before leveling her hands at that protective ward and chanting in her own language: "Mohao Celesdue chadani sapan."
The spell isn't an offensive one; there's a shimmer of silvery motes of light around that ward as Catenna takes a crack at throwing Eraser at the statue, hoping to at least slow down the decay or get rid of the ward so she can get in there and try to fix it. Or at least fight the Trial Knight.
<Pose Tracker> Rose has posed.
Something weird, huh.
Well, that was worth investigating for Rose. And if Ragnell had cause to talk about it, then it must be pretty serious. So she brought...
"I'm glad you brought me," Mikleo says, as he walks next to Rose rather than invade the privacy of her body, "But wouldn't Dezel have been a better choice if this turns out to be one of those situations? We haven't tried it yet."
"Yeah but I'm still mad at him for being a jerk," Rose explains.
Mikleo's face flattens. "Yeah, we couldn't hear you from the other rooms..." he says, bleeding with sarcasm.
"What was that?" Rose glares.
"I said we're here!" Mikleo corrects, with a smile.
And so they are.
Oh that's not good news.
Rose and Mikleo run up to Riesenlied, as the merchant seems concerned. "Yo, Riese! Oh, man, this again. Well, I'M not touching that sword a second time, I learned from the first encounter." She laughs. It's to cover the weight of the situation.
"There's enough Malevolence here to make me sick," Mikleo notes, clutching his chest in pain. After a moment of thought, he turns into a blue sphere of light, ice and water, and shoots inside Rose, to hide from the offending air.
She allows it.
"Yeah... this is bad. Is Sorey coming?" Rose asks.
<<Don't know. If he isn't, save your strength. You still can't maintain an Armatus for long, so... save it for purifying this mess.>>
"Yeah, good call." She looks back at Riesenlied, and others who are pouring in now. Like Ethius! Ethius knows his stuff. "So... should we... destroy the sword? Is the Statue screwed?"
<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.
For months now, since they crossed over into the western portion of this blighted continent, Althena's Guard has been unable to pursue the Vile Fiends with the same relentless determination they had shown before. Much of their force remains in Adlehyde, stabilizing that city and replenishing their ranks from those locals coming over to the worship of the one true Goddess. And so they searched, and sought, and listened for a sign.
And then one appeared.
The fetid corruption wafting out on the breeze caught the attention of one who has spent countless hours simply breathing in and out, waiting for the faintest scent of the Destroyer's taint. Within the town itself, it is so thick you could choke on it, if you were aligned enough to the spiritual.
It is into this scene that a small, sail-powered sand skiff arrives. A small figure in dark clothing leaps from the vehicle, then makes the rest of his way toward the statue in short leaps. The Trial Knight will undoubtedly sense him coming from a distance, as will both Rose and the Enforcer. Moments later, those attuned to the voice of the world will begin to feel it as well, a mounting pressure on the edges of their senses. By the time he is a hundred metres away, everyone will feel it in the form of a breeze that shifts a few grains of sand, but brings with it something else entirely - a promise, an echo, of a land where not all is faded and dying, where life is rich and warm.
The Storm First, Corwynt, arrives in a quite-literal breath of fresh air.
The little man stops on the edge of the gathering group, then turns his head in Rose and Mikleo's direction. "Holy Seraph," he rumbles, then turns to rest his eyes on the Trial Knight, the Blessing boiling within his body. "Not the Lord of Calamity..." he says, finally. "But... something similar..."
<Pose Tracker> Rosaline Calice has posed.
Rosaline is with Cyre and the rest. She's exhausted past what she thought was her breaking point, has been through Hell and back, all for naught, and might just be preparing to commit a form of heresy. There is no need to elaborate on her mood as she approaches the town.
And it only worsens at the sight of horror before her. Port Timney was one thing. Lahan was one thing. The Hollow was one thing. But this is the middle of a populated area, being corrupted from the inside out, and with all this the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, if she had tried a little harder, she could have STOPPED THIS.
She follows the others into the temple, sees the Trial Knight taunting them yet again, and the sword in... the statue...
Oh no. Oh no!
"We're not... done yet," she says, out of breath. She must truly sound ridiculous and desperate.
She focuses power upon her Crests, directing a purifying spell towards the statue. This is like trying to put out a bonfire with a glass of water, as has been proven time and time again, but she's not alone, is she?
Please, please grant her a miracle... Can't He see that so many people are in pain?
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
'Wehaca'. A single word, etched upon a black orb of Malevolence that twisted and churned and boiled in the air until it tore itself apart under its own weight and force - a portent that Noeline can't ignore. While the Trial Knight might be considered the arbiter of Wayside's progress, a task granted to it by the Guardians, the twintailed second-in-command has certainly had the feeling as of late that relations... might be breaking down.
She's not Riesenlied; she can't summon quite the same amount of all-encompassing trust and hope, and she tends to be far more of a realist than her partner. Being wary is part of her nature, after all, and even if that's been tempered over the months into a more protective stance, 'make Wayside good or I'll kill you' is not a statement that engenders a great deal of goodwill on her end of the scale.
Not that she'd go renegade, or anything. It's just her job to be ready.
You know, for times like this.
"I think, at this point, the Guardians might want to sit up and take notice. I think we're past the point of 'a natural force', yes?" she mutters to herself and the open air as she sweeps down, balanced on the back of one of the incoming Metal Dragons. The sight of the statue in the midst of the village, bled through with black and purple light, is certainly arresting - and the sight of the Trial Knight stood in front of it rather confirms some of her suspicions, as she slowly sucks in a breath and adds, sotto voce, "... this is going to be a mess."
She's leapt off the back of the dragon before it even touches down, skidding ahead a few steps; from out of nowhere she suddenly wrests her crimson scythe, using the momentum of her landing to pirouette into a horizontal slash as a wave of force scatters one of the Hellion beasts into a nearby wall. "--all villagers! We're your ride out of here--"
... but she's already taking in the lethargy and the hopelessness that pervades their surroundings, the way that many villagers seem incapable or unwilling of moving, and she swears softly under her breath. "Riese! We're going to need time!"
<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.
Jacqueline has seen better days. She looks disheveled and beaten. A black liquid with faint tinges of Malevolence, dissimilar from the repellant she carries on her, stains her hair, skin, and clothes. The thick coat she wore to combat the seemingly eternal downpour bears a long, vicious clawmark across the front along with a red stain around it from where her attacker drew blood.
Despite all of this she presses forward, even though her body and mind aches for rest. But she couldn't. Not yet. She had to stop this. She was beaten, but not broken.
Jacqueline forges ahead with the others that had faced the Ordeal alongside her. The sight of Wehaca, ruined and tainted, causes her heart to ache...but there was nothing she could do for them right now. If she didn't put a stop to what might soon come about, there would be no saving them.
But she sees them on the horizon, and in the sky...the banner of the Ebony Wings, and a familiar point of light...
Riesenlied. She had come.
It's a small relief. In any other situation, it would be even moreso. But now...
Jacqueline races forward, sliding to a stop alongside Catenna. Riesenlied, Ethius, and Rose get a nod, but her attention soon turns quickly to the one responsible for this.
"I don't understand. Why are you doing this? What's the point in all this?" Jacqueline asks, reaching into her coat to draw out one of her Crest Graphs. She doesn't invoke it yet. She stands at the ready, her body tense.
If she wasn't tense, she'd probably collapse in a pile on the floor...
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
r A Hellion scuttles down the wall of a building, towards the young woman huddled in its doorway. From a distance, she's little more than a rain-slick lump, trembling from the cold, and from fear. The Hellion might've been a scorpion once, but now it's a monster with too many legs and a stinger dripping liquid Malevolence. It's going for the easiest target it can find, and all she needs to do is stay still and let it happen. Just give up. Just let it--
SPLCH
Quite suddenly, the Hellion becomes purple goo and bits of broken chitin. A figure stands over the huddled woman, pulling her gauntleted hand out of the hole it made in the stucco wall. Her other hand reaches down and grips the woman's shoulder firmly. She hauls her to her feet, and tries meet her eyes. "Run," says Ida Everstead-Rey. She is covered in mud and gore and soaked to the bone, despite the oilcloth poncho she's wearing. Her hair came loose from its bun a long time ago, and it's plastered against her neck and back. It's very long, and tangled.
The woman runs.
Why are you still here? Why are you doing this?
Ida runs down the street, chasing the sounds of bestial howls. Something that must've been a coyote is hunting down a man with a wounded leg, chasing him as he hobbles down the street. Ida doesn't so much as think. She blurs forwards, feet splashing, and spins into a roundhouse kick that strikes the Hellion in its ribs. Violet gore sprays from its mouth at the impact, and again when it strikes the building wall.
Ida is almost at the temple when a voice comes down from the heavens, like a proclamation from an angel. Ida's blood burns in her veins like venom.
Oh. SHE'S here. Why don't you just lie down and die and let PERFECT MOMMY RIESENLIED deal with everything, YOU PATHETIC CREATURE YOU'RE DISGUSTING AND COWARDLY AND CRUEL AND EVERYONE HATES YOU
A sudden, white-hot flare of RAGE cuts through the din, but unlike the Malevolence, only those handful of empaths on the battlefield can sense it. It's like a knife between the eyes.
Ida doesn't so much as look at Riesenlied and her rescue brigade. She's found her target. She stalks towards the Statue, and the Trial Knight within the protective field, glowing to empathic senses like a tiny sun of rage. Ida's eyes fixate on the sword for a moment, and then flick over to the Trial Knight's helm. She says nothing. Her hands curl into fists. Rosaline approaches a moment later.
"You will get no satisfactory answers," Ida says, to Jay. "For anything. This world is cruel and stupid.)]
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
A Hellion scuttles down the wall of a building, towards the young woman huddled in its doorway. From a distance, she's little more than a rain-slick lump, trembling from the cold, and from fear. The Hellion might've been a scorpion once, but now it's a monster with too many legs and a stinger dripping liquid Malevolence. It's going for the easiest target it can find, and all she needs to do is stay still and let it happen. Just give up. Just let it--
SPLCH
Quite suddenly, the Hellion becomes purple goo and bits of broken chitin. A figure stands over the huddled woman, pulling her gauntleted hand out of the hole it made in the stucco wall. Her other hand reaches down and grips the woman's shoulder firmly. She hauls her to her feet, and tries meet her eyes. "Run," says Ida Everstead-Rey. She is covered in mud and gore and soaked to the bone, despite the oilcloth poncho she's wearing. Her hair came loose from its bun a long time ago, and it's plastered against her neck and back. It's very long, and tangled.
The woman runs.
Why are you still here? Why are you doing this?
Ida runs down the street, chasing the sounds of bestial howls. Something that must've been a coyote is hunting down a man with a wounded leg, chasing him as he hobbles down the street. Ida doesn't so much as think. She blurs forwards, feet splashing, and spins into a roundhouse kick that strikes the Hellion in its ribs. Violet gore sprays from its mouth at the impact, and again when it strikes the building wall.
Ida is almost at the temple when a voice comes down from the heavens, like a proclamation from an angel. Ida's blood burns in her veins like venom.
Oh. SHE'S here. Why don't you just lie down and die and let PERFECT MOMMY RIESENLIED deal with everything, YOU PATHETIC CREATURE YOU'RE DISGUSTING AND COWARDLY AND CRUEL AND EVERYONE HATES YOU
A sudden, white-hot flare of RAGE cuts through the din, but unlike the Malevolence, only those handful of empaths on the battlefield can sense it. It's like a knife between the eyes.
Ida doesn't so much as look at Riesenlied and her rescue brigade. She's found her target. She stalks towards the Statue, and the Trial Knight within the protective field, glowing to empathic senses like a tiny sun of rage. Ida's eyes fixate on the sword for a moment, and then flick over to the Trial Knight's helm. She says nothing. Her hands curl into fists. Rosaline approaches a moment later.
"You will get no satisfactory answers," Ida says, to Jay. "For anything. This world is cruel and stupid.
<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.
Cyre departed from the Ordeal of the Nahual on the warpath. His path was clear from the outset. The blade called Despair and its vile master had only one place in mind, and it was one near and dear indeed to the shaman's heart.
One's homecoming should be a happy time. A time for reuniting with old friends and family.
This is not what it should ever have been.
Cyre's white cloak billows in the dreadful gale. The malevolence is thick in this place, tainting the very spirituality of the village to its very foundations. The corruption is working on its heart, a syringe of profane poison driven into the vein of the land itself.
Cyre is drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He stops for noone. The faces of the people who turn to him in disbelief as he arrives, the expressions of those who could never have thought that the prodigal son would ever return, the curses hurled at his back, he lets it all wash away like rain.
He has come to save this place. Damn all else.
Cyre arrives ahead of Catenna, Rosaline, all the others. His staff slams into the earth at the sight of the profanity worming its way through the great lion's monument-- and at the man in white behind the barrier.
"Where," Cyre snarls as a howling gale blasts his hood from his head, "Is my brother?"
<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.
Dean didn't make it all the way through the Baskar Sacred Lands; he joined "Thomas" and a few other people to explore rumors of bad things afoot, but they ran into a hand-run elevator and he agreed to stay behind to run it. He didn't get a chance to hear what they found out, but he heard from Avril via Memory Cube message that something bad went down here in the Baskar lands... While sealing Equites's Statue might've gone swimmingly, there's still a lot of chances for other Statues to get shattered--and if it could happen once, with Schturdark, it could happen again. So, he's come here to check in on her and Gwen, see if he can help.
It definitely looks like people could use help. Even being unable to sense Malevolence, even being pure-hearted and single-minded enough to be one of the least likely people to be overcome by it, there's enough here for anyone to see that something's wrong. It helps that people are screaming and crying and running away from monsters that have invaded the town.
"This is really bad," he says aloud as he slams his combat rods into a Hellion. It isn't enough to defeat it, but it gives the villagers it had been about to attack enough time to run for safety. Fortunately, Riesenlied and Noeline are here with their dragons to transport people out--but he can spy Ida, too, and he knows Ida has a, uh, complex about her. Dean kicks the Hellion away--it's not a monster he can easily beat, not by himself--and chases after Ida, with a shout of, "Ida! Ida, hey, wait for me!", slowing when he catches up and sees... well, a whole lot of things, really, but his eyes widen the most at the Statue and Trial Knight next to it. The barrier, being made of Malevolence, is invisible to him, but everything about him makes him *really* uneasy.
He hears Rose's comment and double-takes at her in recognition. "Hey, it's you! The lady who was selling gloves and stuff!" He frowns in concern, looking back at the creepy sword thrust into the Statue. "You said we shouldn't touch the sword? Why?" A good thing Rose is here, and a good thing she said something, because he totally would've walked up and tried to pull it out himself... assuming he even could. For now, though, everything looks to be a hell of a mess. Where does he even start?
<Pose Tracker> Ryudo has posed.
An unlikely ally journeys with Cyre's company...or more aptly. ahead and apart from them. Offering no explanation, a mercenary by the name of Ryudo and his companion hawk Skye scout ahead of the party. Their destination -- Weheca -- is already known to them. The vision made sure of that. But this land, once familiar to some...is a stranger to those who return to it. Weariness and exhaustion beats down on them all from the events of the past week, but there is no opportunity for recuperation short of their bodies giving out on them. In truth, Ryudo is unhappy with the pace that they are making but for once deems not share his much vaunted opinion. He remains distant, always seated apart from the rest, but makes no attempt to mock Rosaline's attempts to learn how to use the tool she has been given. The reality is a bitter one: they will need all of the strength that they can muster for what lies ahead.
Splayed out on a stump near the corpses of three fallen Hellions, Ryudo leans back and sucks in what oxygen he can while he still has the opportunity to do so. That's when he sees the dragons flying overhead. Grimacing, he picks up the increasingly heavy blade and hastens toward the temple.
The situation escalates with every passing moment. More parties arive on the scene, as disparate as they are desperate. Some faces he even recognizes, such as that of Rose and Riesenlied. It does little to improve his mood. These events as of late are far...far larger than he is. It would be a good place not to be were he not aware of the consequences for those who dwell in these lands, it it is for them alone -- and perhaps Cyre -- that he has taken to the battlefield.
But while others have pesonal vendettas against the one who has perpetrated this crime, Ryudo bears not the same hatred and disgust for the mysterious Trial Knight. Instead, he looks on from a distance with darkened brows as the others confront him, squinting at the polished surface of the entity's armor, trying to taken it in. Trying to understand where perhaps there is no understanding to be had.
This is definitely not his brother. There are many similarities, but also many subtle differences. Why, then, is all of this so familiar to him? Would that he had the time to speak with the others and learn more about the many events that transpired up until this point.
<Pose Tracker> Xantia has posed.
Xantia's 'grandpa' Jolen Crann, the old Baskar shaman who rescued her from the desert and the first person she remembers seeing, is a font of knowledge regarding Baskar lands and traditions. Asking if he'd ever heard of Wehaca - the location left echoing in their minds after investigating the corrupted sacred grounds - prompted a number of long stories, not all of them exactly relevant to the matter at hand. At least the location was among the information gleaned. Nothing was known about it being involved in any sort of particular unfortunate circumstances, so there was still hope that after the proper preparations were made, they could make it there in time.
Hopes quickly dashed by the time she arrives.
It's a scenario not unfamiliar, running towards a place most others are fleeing from. That sense of wrongness in the air, stronger than ever before - either this is worse than anything she's ever encountered, or she's gotten better at perceiving it. Possibly both. She still doesn't see the Hellions' true appearance, but she is more acutely aware of her eyes not seeing everything they should. She therefore doesn't hesitate to use violence to force her way through anything or anyone coming her way with what she interprets as violent intentions. Trusting her instincts got her this far, this is no time to doubt her impulsive judgement calls.
Once in a high enough place, Xantia briefly pauses to survey the area below. Quickly judging that the situation is... not good. She turns to frequent companion Fei Fong Wong, long enough to assure him, "Okay, I know this looks bad, but it's not too late, we can stop this!" She only wishes she could have said it with a bit more confidence and a bit less desperation. She really wants to keep Fei from being reminded of Lahan. But even she's realizing that it may be a bit late for that now.
Either way, nothing will be improved by just standing there. Sliding down the hillside, she springs back into action, making her way to the very obvious center of the problem, the place where others have gathered to take a stand. The place containing a very familiar statue, one that she's seen before, and recognizes instantly. Noua Shax. Having established a pact with that very Guardian makes this somehow feel even more urgent.
And close by... that unmistakable armored figure. Though he helped her before, it's completely clear now that he is still an enemy. "So it IS you," she speaks in an accusatory tone, pointing a finger towards the Trial Knight as she comes to a halt. "Why do this again? Wasn't... wasn't once enough?" She stops herself from saying 'Lahan', in a vain attempt to spare Fei's feelings. "You won't get away with it, you remember what happened last time!"
What happened last time again? Oh right, that's when she lost so much blood that she almost died. Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words.
<Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.
As is often said, there is no rest for the wicked.
There's not much rest to found for the remaining lot of people, either. Injured from the encounter with Virginia's Malevolence within Krosse Cave, once Avril had reunited with her friends, they'd retreated to the Baskar Colony to heal and recuperate.
And now, a dire situation has arisen.
Unable to be disuaded -- and burning a good measure of the power available to her through the Original Artificial Sea Medium -- Avril has set out with Gwen towards Wehaca village.
It's worse than she'd heard. There on the outskirts of the town, Avril can only stand stock still for a long moment as the storm continues to rage, lips slightly parted as she stares into the heart of Wehaca.
"No..."
Before she shakes her head and abruptly runs out into ruined village, Absolute Zero in hand.
Here, she does not hesitate any longer.
"--Dean!"
She's spotted him, amidst the fray. Good, he's alright. "Dean, Gwen and I are here! We shall try to force these creatures back so the villagers can flee!"
There is a brief pause, wherein Avril parses Ida and what she's doing. "...Ida?"
And at last sees the figure standing near the Statue. "Who..."
<Pose Tracker> Cecilia Adlehyde has posed.
The Shaman follows the will of the Guardians. This has been Cecilia's life since the Statues picked up speed a little while ago; seek out the statue, protect it, claim its power. She hasn't gotten a whole lot of power out of them, but between her work and others', things are...mostly...okay! And despite it all, she finds it a better life than having to helplessly manage the affairs of a city-state on its knees.
On THIS adventure, the Shaman found her way to the Sacred Grounds with an array of associates, and there found poison in the air and ground. And at the heart of it, a quaking orb throbbing with awful colors, vanishing with a whisper that tore at her eyes. It left visions imprinted on her thoughts, and a word besides.
The Guardians provided the rest. Cecilia's boots scuff the dust of the village, despite the storm. Timing being what it is, she steps past. She might have cursed the arrival of the Ebony Wings, once; strange that the beat of dragon wings brings less tension to her spine than hearing Ida Everstead-Rey seething like some spitting snake. She favors her attention up to the quivering corruption, the sight of which makes her head throb. She rubs at her temple as the Guardians speak to her. Boy she wishes that hurt less.
"The Guardians...can fix this," she says, sort of tangentially in answer to Rose. "But we need to get the sword out."
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin is here with the other members of the CaraKin to provide support, and her sword is flashing, her spells flying, in battle against the Hellions. Spirit, by her side, is a blur of claws and fangs.
<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.
It's going to be another repeat of Lahan.
Fei Fong Wong isn't sure he should even be here. There's something dangerous within him, there's malevolence everywhere which seems to simultaneously not bother him and also REALLY bother him, and there are no Black Wolves in sight but what are seemingly everywhere are FRIENDS who are all susceptible to village destroying disasters. It puts him on edge. He looks towards Ethius for a moment but he suspects pretty much anything he sets on fire today will need to be set on fire.
Glad to see Ida's learning
Fei looks at the bodies.
Feeling nostalgic?
Fei looks at the bodies. He looks back to Xantia. He nods to her, once. She needs the confidence and Fei can still fake it. He didn't bring Weltall, he thinks, so long as he doesn't get into a gear, he shouldn't be able to do anything like destroy the town. He needs to be cautious though in this situation.
He makes it up to Dean and he presses a hand on Dean's shoulder. "...Dean. I'm glad to see you. I'm here to help but..." He frowns. "...But I need you to promise me something." He seems like a good man, who won't waver in doing what's right. "If I go out of control, stop me before I hurt someone, okay?" He could ask Xantia, he imagines, but he'd rather put that in the hands of someone who seems more up for tanking a few failures.
He then looks at K.K. "How does this help anyone?"
FEI PSYCHO 95
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"You know, getting the sword out is the usual procedure," says EMMA HETFIELD, GENIUS OF THE AGE, as she comes up behind Cecilia - she has arrived, in fact, with her glasses slightly askew and a protective coat fluffing flirtatiously in the breeze. "But with arrows and other pre-ARM projectiles -- well, I'll spare you the discussion for now."
Emma peers at that energy, so lately adjacent to her, currently cloaking that Guardian Statue with a protective shroud. Protective. 'Protective.'
And the carnage beforehand. That was much less protective, unless one has chosen, Emma muses, to adopt an exterminationally maximalist ideology.
Words die in her throat. Information seems pointless. The air is full of dark dreams.
"Well," she murmurs to Cecilia, "I understand perhaps half of this, and I'll defer to your insight. The best I can say is that time spent thinking is never time wasted."
Emma adjusts her glasses. The Emulator is drawn from a coat pocket, a small pixel of green in a sea of darker hues.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Gwen shouldn't be here.
Healing from exhaustion after splitting from a newly healed Virginia, Gwen joined Avril, healing at the Baskar Colony not too far away. And that was what Gwen planned on doing.
Then Wehaca came to haunt them all, the Malevolence leaking like the scent of an electrical storm on the wind. Even if Gwen decided to not go, Avril was. There was no way she'd leave Avril behind.
Still, Gwen shouldn't be here.
Arriving alongside Avril, Gwen loads her ARM, her left hand jamming rounds into her straightened ARM as she runs just behind her. "That's the Trial Knight, also known as K.K.. Not sure what their entire deal is. They've helped me out at least once, but have tried to hurt people more than that. It's better just to regard them like a force of nature." She moves her ARM in front of her, aiming at a Hellion just beyond the area where Dean and Rose are. "Sometimes the rain's on yer side, and other times, it drowns everything away."
Dean also asks a very good question. "Oh, yeah..." She coughs. "It's got some nasty stuff on it. Same stuff that was in that cave run you n' I were in. Remember how we needed you to get us out? That sword's all marinaded in the stuff."
Gwen *really* shouldn't be here.
There are other questions. Jay and Fei already asking the very questions Gwen herself wanted to ask the white knight.
Firing another bullet at another Hellion creeping over a fallen villager, the courier directs her own question towards K.K., this time a little more pointed. "Are you doin' this because... this is the only thing you can do?" Gwen's not driven by compassion, entirely. "Your purpose, I mean."
Maybe, her theory is entirely wrong. Either way....
_Gwen really shouldn't be here._
But she doesn't care.
<Pose Tracker> K.K. has posed.
They come. Of course they do. What else is to be expected?
They can sense the approach. They can see the light. They can hear the voices. And, as they all converge, the Trial Knight takes one long look at that statue. They lean towards it. Whisper something to the rock. And then they turn, gauntlet-wrapped fingers spasming subtly.
"... Let us see how far you have come."
Trial Knight...
Riesenlied is the first arrival. Of course, her attention turns towards those in need. The villagers. Those fleeing. The knight's head tilts, but they do not address the Tainted steward of the Wayside. Not yet.
They come, from all places. They feel the approach of the once-blind assassin and her Seraph companion. They feel the approach of the Guardsman on winds far fresher and more pleasant than any howling through this storm of gloom and sorrow. They feel those from the Ordeal, breaking their way free only to find themselves too late.
And they stand tall and unbending even as they come. Even as Rosaline and Catenna weave their desperate spells to attempt to dispel the morass surrounding the statue, surrounding the blade that pierces it. Tall, and unmoving. Even as that magic weaves. As if their efforts were not the Trial Knight's to fend against.
As if their trial was something else entirely.
Are you doin' this because... this is the only thing you can do?
"..."
Slowly, that horned helm turns towards Gwen Whitlock. They do not hesitate in their answer. Pure of purpose, free from doubt:
"Because it is what must be done."
Because it is for what their heart beats.
That magic weaves its defiant patterns in a clash against metaphysical dissonance. There comes a wail on the spiritual senses, sad and weak and defeated, a chorus of souls long lost and trapped within the endless surface of the black blade. The wards shudder, strain, warble. And the Knight simply watches as if bearing witness, brandishing no weapons nor even so much as advancing. Just watching. Watching the weary souls that drag themselves battered from the Ordeal to continue their fight, even as others rise to join their swelling ranks with pressing questions.
Why are you doing all this? What's the point in all this?
Why again?
How does this help anyone?
"'Tis not the question you should ask. Who this helps is of no consequence. Pointlessness is its own point. The futility that you all attempt to look away from. But you know, if you would but look. Be but exposed to the truth you deny in yourself. Get of man..."
Their hand reaches out. Fingers splay. And the barrier bulges outward -violently-, rippling morass of Malevolence seeming to just -gobble- the magic that dares to try to work against it.
"... know you the serpent that consumes its own tail."
Dispelling magic strains against Malevolence for a few scant seconds more...
... and then that barrier of impurity is drawn -inward-.
Towards the black sword in the stone, brimming with impurity. Brimming with sorrow.
Brimming with life.
Where is my brother?
The Trial Knight does not answer. The presence of their stare weighs upon Cyre, as if judging him. As if telling him the truth. He already knows where his brother is.
And the glow
grows
greater.
pulse
I am despair...
pulse
Lost souls, trapped by hopes forfeited...
pulse
A rusted blade...
pulse
Have you the strength to free me...?
PULSE
The shockwave is like a force of nature. A tidal wave of dissonance that RIPPLES from the statue, shattering the foundations of the shrine grounds as it -pulses- like the manic beat of a palpitating heart. Anyone too close will be ripped from their feet and tossed out to the rain, to the cold, to the misery.
And from the wreckage, it comes.
It is still forming itself when it emerges. Lacquering tracks of inky black that calify into a skeletal structure wrapping around the uprooted Statue of Noua Shax. Four long, black-boned limbs sprout one after the other, each holding on to swords of various sizes and shapes. One, like a Solarian blade. Another, a feeble, rusted katana. And the third?
A great broadsword, its hilt designed to look like the pained howl of a lion's maw.
And slowly does the Sword Dancer's skull forge itself over the statue of Noua Shax, layering over it so that that bleak, black blade impales it through its own skull. Malevolence writhes. Surges. Condenses. And within the Dancer, under the strain of its own immense, sorrowful impurity...
... the statue begins to crumble. Slowly, but surely.
If it cannot be freed in time.
And as the Sword Dancer is born, as its rippling Malevolence -lashes- out at everyone surrounding it like a whip of madness, more Hellions come. All of them snapping, slavering jaws, maddened eyes, some human, some animal. All of them coming for the villagers still fleeing -- and the ones unable to save themselves.
And at the head of that pack of corruption, a humanoid lion of pure shining gold and dissonant violets leads the pack. Large. Commanding.
Lightning crackling at his heels...
O b j e c t i v e
The Second Dance
Defeat the Sword Dancer in Four Rounds!
B o n u s O b j e c t i v e
The Lion's Sorrow
Protect the villagers from the Hellions!
DC: Dispellado switches forms to Wehacan Villagers! DC: Sword Dancer switches forms to The Second Dance - Despair!
GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Gwen Whitlock with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Emma Hetfield with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Fei Fong Wong with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Kourin with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Cecilia Adlehyde with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Avril Vent Fleur with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Xantia with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ryudo with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Dean Stark with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Cyre H. Lorentz with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ida Everstead-Rey with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Jacqueline Barber with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Noeline with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rosaline Calice with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Corwynt with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rose with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Catenna with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ethius Hesiod with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Riesenlied with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has completed its action. GS: Riesenlied takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 126 hit points! GS: Catenna takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 62 hit points!
DC: MISS! Noeline completely evades The Second Dance from Sword Dancer!
GS: Fei Fong Wong critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 25 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Jacqueline Barber guards a hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 109 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Jacqueline Barber! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Dean Stark with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has completed its action. GS: Dean Stark guards a hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 81 hit points! GS: Emma Hetfield critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 26 hit points! GS: Rose guards a hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 72 hit points! GS: Kourin takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 59 hit points! GS: Corwynt takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 127 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Cyre H. Lorentz with The Second Dance! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 24 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ryudo with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has completed its action. GS: Ethius Hesiod takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 119 hit points! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 58 hit points! GS: Xantia guards a hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 70 hit points! GS: Ryudo takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 135 hit points! GS: Gwen Whitlock guards a hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 72 hit points! GS: Avril Vent Fleur takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 65 hit points! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 63 hit points! GS: Hellion Horde enters CONDITION GREEN!! GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Riesenlied with Mindflayer! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Riesenlied critically Guards a hit from Hellion Horde's Mindflayer for 8 hit points! GS: Rosaline Calice takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 65 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Rose and Mikleo approach her, and Riesenlied remembers the Seraph from her first and only conversation with Sorey; she bows her head for a moment, and says, "We'll do our best to save as many lives -- that sword reminds me of the one in Lahan, and if that is the case... I believe destroying it would help to stem the tide of Malevolence."
What makes a coward, Riesenlied?
She doesn't look at Ida or spare a glance at her; she can feel her hate, but it will not deter her today. She moves to the villagers moving slowest due to the effects of the Malevolence as Noeline warns her, saying, "I know! I'll help bolster them against the lethargic effects...!"
She holds her hand closest to one of the Nahual, whispering, "It will be all right. Gird your strength, and run -- run to the Dragons, they'll carry you out of here!"
It is not but fear, or uncertainty. Such things are human. It is not but acting upon impulse, nor is it in the act of failing. We have all of us failed, and we shall fail yet more in the future still.
The Tear's shimmer helps to stymie against the Malevolence's effects, if ever so temporarily; it is not the purifying wash of the Shepherd's flame, but what she targets is the emotion to empower oneself against its dissonant effects.
In the distance, the Ebony Wings are hard at work -- Jedan's busy sniping at targets from the air with rubber bullets with a grimace. "... you keep bringing us to the nicest places," he cracks as he draws the crank to reload. Salamandra bashes down to spread its fiery wings and block the passage.
"It's just like one of Brother Zed's animes...!!" Devet whimpers as she mashes away at her keyboard, creating little illusions and clearing passages as helpful drones continue to coordinate the scape. "Ah, Dva, to your right--"
"Got it already, geez!" Dva snorts, still feeling a bit guilty and sore from her brief power trip -- and seeing just for herself how terrifying it can be. She plants Brionac to the ground and whirls upon it, landing a deft heel kick on the jaw of a werewolf Hellion.
Cowardice is letting these things cast us astray from the path we mean to walk.
Riesenlied's eyes widen still at the emergence of the calcified creature, cupping her hand to her mouth for a moment as that shockwave blasts her clean off her feet, carrying the villager she'd held with her as they roll and bash her head hard against the back of a barrel.
There are those that ask why... of the Trial Knight.
"... I will show you, K.K. I have not given up on humanity... nor do I have plans to," Riesenlied speaks, barely above a whisper, but she has faith and confidence that her judge shall be able to hear her, gaze upon her resolve... and see that it does not waver.
She closes her eyes, and holds aloft the Dragon's Tear as she forms now-familiar shields around herself and Noeline, and the villagers as well. "Keep going!"
GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Cyre H. Lorentz with Death From Above! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Riesenlied has attacked Riesenlied with Rising Heart - 'Seek the New World'! GS: Riesenlied has attacked Noeline with Rising Heart - 'Seek the New World'! GS: Riesenlied has attacked Dispellado with Rising Heart - 'Seek the New World'! GS: Riesenlied has completed her action. GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Noeline with Corruptive Claw! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Riesenlied heals Riesenlied! She gains 200 temporary hit points! GS: Riesenlied heals Noeline! She gains 200 temporary hit points!
DC: MISS! Noeline completely evades Corruptive Claw from Hellion Horde!
GS: Riesenlied heals Dispellado! He gains 200 temporary hit points! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz takes a solid hit from Hellion Horde's Death From Above for 80 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
For a man that has appeared ignorant of some of the deeper spiritual truths around him, there is something equal parts envious and fearsome about his level of focus. The way he goes through the mud, as though intending to go straight to the heart of the matter. That he avoids Hellion intervention is miraculous in itself. He is surrounded by chaos and death brought on by dissonance, and yet he wades towards the very Temple without hesitation rather than take advantage of their distraction to strike them.
He has to. He is among the last to step foot proper before the scene of those who gather with questions and words for the Trial Knight. He knows not who it is. He has no words for them.
'Because it is what must be done.' Ethius catches this in the Trial Knight's words towards Gwen. It doesn't match the voice in his head that seems to say these same words identically, the rhythm and cadence a perfect match for the voice in his head. He is here because he must. Because it is what must be done. That much he understands, and does not question. They both are here of the belief that it is because it is what must be done.
It comes.
It needs no further description as the lashes of spiritual poison strike out through the crumbling shrine. Ethius attempts to strike his quarterstaff against the ground for traction as it strikes him back. A guttural gasp escapes the enigmatic man's throat as he finds himself tossed on his back a far distance. A reminder of just how powerful this is - this is something he cannot so cleanly erase. The happenings at the Baskar Sacred Grounds is still fresh.
Desperation wants to claw into his heart, squeeze, and tug. A mantra helps him come back up through the cold, clammy muck he was ejected to. He cares not for the horror of the Sword Dancer that should give pause and mortal terror. A mantra seems to hold him together enough that he extends his right palm, fingers flitting as he begins chanting and gesticulating.
This does not belong here.
A soft light shines off of those exposed tattoos visible from him, daring to try and raise the heat to unbearable degrees as he just keeps the shambling four-armed swordsthing in sight.
He focuses on where the rusted katana sways, looking to dull its blade further through building heat. All around, he could turn and possibly save a life by frying a Hellion lunging for a lethargic teenage child not far from where he is.
He does not. His focus does not waver from the Sword Dancer or the statue within - at expense of all else worth saving, worth helping, that he could do right now... but does not.
GS: Ethius Hesiod has attacked Sword Dancer with Overheat! GS: Ethius Hesiod has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.
Of course it wasn't going to be enough. It never is, with this particular brand of monster.
Catenna recoils with a gasp as the shockwave blooms off of the statue, ducking back and trying to shield herself with one arm - in vain, perhaps, for there's only so much one can do. The dissonant force buffets her and forces her to her knee, pulsing through her with a racing torrent of doubt. Her teeth click together, eyes wide as those horrible questions roll through her like blood. How can I do anything here?! How do I even fix that statue?! How can I even hope to help Cyre?!
The question grow all the more horrifying as the Sword Dancer coalesces physically around the statue...
...And as Catenna stares at the horde of supporting Hellions making good their approach. At that golden lion at the head of it all.
Cyre hasn't spoken much about his brother. But Catenna has been piecing together symbols and bits of messages she's gotten from him all along, and she widens her eyes with a sickening surge of realization. "Guardians preserve us," she breathes. For a moment her eyes snap to the Sword Dancer and the Statue it contains, then back to Cyre.
Then the trial is more than the Statue....
"Cyre," she calls out, darting to the side of her lover and looking up at him for a moment.
Her hand falls to his shoulder, squeezing tightly, as she leans in to murmur a few soft words for him alone.
"
<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.
Of course it wasn't going to be enough. It never is, with this particular brand of monster.
Catenna recoils with a gasp as the shockwave blooms off of the statue, ducking back and trying to shield herself with one arm - in vain, perhaps, for there's only so much one can do. The dissonant force buffets her and forces her to her knee, pulsing through her with a racing torrent of doubt. Her teeth click together, eyes wide as those horrible questions roll through her like blood. How can I do anything here?! How do I even fix that statue?! How can I even hope to help Cyre?!
The question grow all the more horrifying as the Sword Dancer coalesces physically around the statue...
...And as Catenna stares at the horde of supporting Hellions making good their approach. At that golden lion at the head of it all.
Cyre hasn't spoken much about his brother. But Catenna has been piecing together symbols and bits of messages she's gotten from him all along, and she widens her eyes with a sickening surge of realization. "Guardians preserve us," she breathes. For a moment her eyes snap to the Sword Dancer and the Statue it contains, then back to Cyre.
Then the trial is more than the Statue....
"Cyre," she calls out, darting to the side of her lover and looking up at him for a moment.
Her hand falls to his shoulder, squeezing tightly, as she leans in to murmur a few soft words for him alone.
"Whatever happens... I am here with you, Cyre."
GS: Catenna has attacked Cyre H. Lorentz with Side By Side! GS: Catenna has completed her action. GS: Catenna heals Cyre H. Lorentz! He gains 100 temporary hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ethius Hesiod's Overheat for 87 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.
A lot of people have gathered here. Friends, allies. All to this defend this place.
'This world is cruel and stupid', Ida says. Jacqueline shakes her head.
"Maybe it is...but even still, I have to ask." She replies, shaking her head. Jacqueline glances around at those who have gathered, but her attention soon returns to the White Knight.
"You think I don't know? You have no idea everything I've been through. I know all too well what that's like...or are you just trying to drive the blade deeper?" Jacqueline retorts, her hand tightening around her Crest.
And then, another familiar shockwave erupts outward. She invokes the Crest quickly, an earth pillar shooting up to defend herself from it. Unlike before, it doesn't overwhelm her senses and send her collapsing to the ground...but, weakened as she is from her previous encounter with it, it sends her recoiling backward. She feels like she's going to be violently ill...but she shakes it off, instead focusing on the skeletal creature before her.
The one from the vision.
"That statue...is it...?" Jacqueline murmurs, eying the skull that now concealed the statue. "...Everyone, we have to deal with this quickly! And don't forget about the villagers!"
With that, Jacqueline draws another Crest and invokes its power. Nearby rubble begins to shake...then flies at violent speed toward the arms of the Sword Dancer, aiming to strike and damage them.
GS: Jacqueline Barber has attacked Sword Dancer with Rubble-Rouser! GS: Jacqueline Barber takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Jacqueline Barber has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Rose has posed.
There it is. The giant Hellion with the swords. Again.
Rose recalls a bit too vividly how that first encounter went. She could barely see it. She had to go off the shape, the Gear plating that had started covering it. It was terrifying. It still kind of is. Just now it's also really ugly, and the Malevolence grips at her worse than anything else.
"Must be done, huh... or else what? What happens if you don't do this, Trial Knight?" Rose demands of him.
xterm39,"Rose. The villagers,") Mikleo points out.
The merchant looks all around. Oh. Oh no.
"Oh come on! If you're going to put US through a trial the least you can do is not involve random people who have nothing to do with you, us, or this entire mess!" she shouts at K.K., no doubt in vain. She looks inward again. "Mikleo, we need to -"
"No! Not yet! Remember what you told me happened last time. You fell out of it right as it would have been useful. If you know that then bide your time a little bit more!" Mikleo replies, trying to be analytical.
"I bet you don't tell Sorey that," Rose replies with a grumble.
"Sorey's further along than you are. You'll catch up." he reassures her.
Rose's knives come out, finally. "Fine, we'll do this your way. But just a bit!" Mikleo would facepalm if he still had his body.
Using the knives to block the incoming sweep from the Sword Dancer, with moderate success and significant arm strain, Rose leaps up, trying to run up the edge for what little time that can be done, to jump over the Sword Dancer, and then with a twirl, send down a barrage of glowing, yellow and pink energy knives, with a shout of "Glimmer Dragon!".
They're aimed for joints, for what little good that'll do. That thing can't swing its swords around if they cut or jam the arms, right? If only it was that easy.
GS: Rose has attacked Sword Dancer with Glimmer Dragon! GS: Rose has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Rosaline Calice has posed.
Rosaline channels her spell as the Trial Knight speaks and reinforcements arrive. More are weaved in to lighten the spiritual load, and it almost seems as if it might work...
Until it doesn't.
The Sword Dancer rises once more. Horror dawns on Rosaline's face as the Trial Knight's monstrous plan clicks into place and a wave of Malevolence washes over them.
She rolls with it, her body toppling over in the air but managing to land on all fours, reflexively clawing at the ground with her soft gloves and skidding to a halt a few yards further.
She rises. Her hands lower to her ARMs. She quietly seethes. She can't take this anymore, a voice inside keeps telling her, but she's seen how this ends, time and time again. She can't give in to her rage. It won't help anyone, especially here. She has to fight it.
"Nothing will sway you from this course, is it? Fine, once again I'll play your childish game!" she spits out as she focuses her power on her Crests again. Talking seems to help. So long as she's saying something, she can't lose her mind, right?
"Evil be gone, Luminous Motes!" Power flows from Rosaline and towards the Sword Dancer. Motes of light blink into being and dance around the possessed statue, homing in towards its foreign components and triggering several tiny explosions. Rosaline wishes she had more raw might to bring to bear here but, well-- This is why she had this conversation with Catenna, wasn't it?
<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.
It's good to see Fei... for about five seconds, until he rests a hand on Dean's shoulder and asks a promise of him. "Huh?! Lose control? What're you talking about?" Dean utters, clearly befuddled. Probably not a good sign from the outside, not at first--but while Dean might be confused, Fei's clearly serious about this, and he's a friend. Even if he doesn't understand, he must have a good reason for saying this. "I, uh--yeah, I promise," he thus says, nodding once as he keeps frowning. And, coming from Dean, a promise is worth a lot. What *does* Fei mean, though? He looks at Xantia, who's here with him, with a questioning look--does *she* know?
'Dean!' someone calls, and the young man turns his head to see-- "Avril! Gwen!" he calls, brightening... but only a bit. "Got it! With all of us together, I'm sure we can protect these villagers--but..." But there's another, possibly bigger problem here. Gwen chimes in then, explaining who that knight in white is, and what's up more or less with that nasty sword. It mostly goes over Dean's head, especially with regards to the Knight as a force of nature--they're not a force of nature, they're a person, plain as day!--but he doesn't try to argue with Gwen on the matter, either. "In short, we gotta get rid of it to protect everyone, right?" he summarizes. "That's simple!"
Or it would be simple, except then K.K. speaks, and the Statue pulses, and Malevolence warps outward. Dean can't see it, but he can *feel* it, and all he can do is stand his ground as much as possible against the invisible force beating into him. He grits his teeth and cries out in defiance, and while it's a close thing, he just barely manages to stay on his feet. Sweat beading his face, Dean frowns at the Trial Knight, expression openly befuddled.
"Hurting people is wrong!" he declares, his line in the sand. "I don't know what you're going on about, but I promised to protect the Statues, and these people need our help. So if you're going around trying to hurt everyone, I'm gonna stop you with everything I've got!!"
In other words, he's going to protect the villagers from the Hellions *and* defeat the Sword Dancer--or at least try his very utmost to. But how does he intend to do that? ...By, apparently, breaking into a sprint around the ground, around the slavering monsters, to put himself bodily in between the Hellions and the villagers--but opening fire with Twin Fenrir upon the Sword Dancer some ways away, using an ARM cartridge to light the bullets ablaze in mid-flight before they, hopefully, strike into the Sword Dancer. It might be more typical of Dean to use the combat rods in his guns' handles for melee attacks, but right now, it's clear that his paired weapons are guns for a reason.
So he can fight and still protect, no matter who the opponent, no matter how far.
And don't worry, Fei. He's still keeping an eye on you, too.
GS: Rosaline Calice has attacked Sword Dancer with Luminous Motes! GS: Rosaline Calice has completed her action. GS: Dean Stark has attacked Sword Dancer with Burning Booster! GS: Dean Stark has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin rushes to engage the sword dancer, but there's a Hellion Horde in the way. She advances through them almost in a dance, though, dodging through their number, parrying incoming blows, dispatching those that leave her openings. She trusts Catenna and Cyre and the others to take care of the villagers, to handle things, but the way Kourin feels she can help most is to take on the Sword Dancer.
She is herself a bit of a sword dancer, as well, after all. Just...not the Malevolence kind.
GS: Kourin has attacked Sword Dancer with Parry Parry Thrust Thrust! GS: Kourin has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Jacqueline Barber's Rubble-Rouser for 47 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Rose's Glimmer Dragon for 72 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Rosaline Calice's Luminous Motes for 43 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Dean Stark's Burning Booster for 55 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Kourin's Parry Parry Thrust Thrust for 96 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.
The Trial Knight's stare says all he needs. Of course. Cyre knew it'd be like this. His hand tightens white-knuckle around the haft of his staff as the chaos unfurls around him-- as nightmare is made terribly, dreadfully manifest in the worst possible way. As if the profanity that he had witnessed in the Ordeal was not enough, the things that howl in the hills, the monster that ensconces the sacred statue of Noua Shax-- these things are somehow so much worse.
Why did he not simply destroy the statue outright? What is the point of this torture? To give them the opportunity to save it?
It doesn't matter.
Malevolence ripples out in the Sword Dancer's grotesque afterbirth. Cyre braces against his staff as the vile energy surges through him, sending violet cracks racing painfully across his skin. He's blasted back, thrown out of the sacred temple by the raw force of the shockwave and comes to a skidding halt as he rights himself.
And witnesses... It.
The mad, golden beast at the fore of the Hellion horde.
Cyre feels his blood run cold.
"Catenna," Cyre murmurs, "Catenna-- thank you. My brother, I need to go. I need to... stop him. Will you... come with me?" He surges upwards, away from the temple. Up and up and up, unto the bluffs surrounding the town. He needs a good vantage for what he needs to do.
The shaman clutches tightly around the medium where it rests in its secret place on his person. Now. More than ever. Now, Fengalon. Lord of the winds. The gale that grinds stone and jade alike. The howl of the wild. Now, give him strength to do what he must.
He takes in a breath and leaps down into the path of the charging horde. He touches down as lightning smashes into his fragile, human form. A spark of light surges out from where his staff strikes the earth, erupting into a wave of raw, stone-shattering Pressure at the very forefront of the monstrous tide-- right at the feet of the golden lion leading them.
"Come! This way!" Cyre yells, whether he means the villagers or the monsters doesn't matter. A path toward safety and Riesenlied's dragons lies behind him. The monsters and their prey lie before him. His intention is to protect the former from the latter. But his eyes are locked on one in particular. "Leon... I'm here for you."
GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has attacked Sword Dancer with Grand Pressure! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.
The Storm Fist glowers. This monster, whatever it may be, fairly reeks of Malevolence, the stench he has come to associate with the Destroyer boiling over from within its body. And here, to face it, he has some companions he can count on. A Seraphim, thank the Goddess, and (by what the Enforcer seems to imply) a Squire to the Holy Shepherd. A young woman who matches the description of the last scion of the city the Guards now defend in her absence.
But after those few, the true character of the world begins to show in the face of its purported defenders. Demons of metal, who massacred the civilians of Adlehyde as ruthlessly as the Hellions seek to do now. The foolish boy-child who struck him down with his Titan, in defence of a flame-haired jezebel. And more than a dozen others, various and sundry, stepping forth to defend a perverse idol honouring a false god. But still, they stand, Corwynt reminds himself. They step into the flames in defence of what they think is right. That they are wrong does not make them foolish, or diminish the worth of their action.
They do not know there is a better way.
Darkness slithers forth and Corwynt rises to meet it, lifting both his arms to defend against the sword strike. But this bladed demon is at the heart of its power, and Corwynt is so very far from the seat of his; his movements are slow, so slow. The blade crashes past his defences and licks across his chest as Corwynt is knocked backward; blood drips to the blighted Earth, and he stumbles, staggers... but his foot plants, his leg shivers. He stands.
And he breathes.
Each breath is a prayer to the Goddess he serves, calling out to the living symbol of her love and devotion to the people of Lunar. He breathes, taking in the putrescence, but each time he exhales he lets a little of her grace go into the air. It is nothing like the Seraphim's gift of purification, but he is not so worthy a servant as they. But it is something. And with each breath he takes, the shimmering bell note of Althena's Blessing, her presence, her love grows a little stronger.
"Avaunt!" Corwynt roars, pulling his right hand back, green-white motes of light gathering around his fist as the wind begins to swirl. "Avaunt, monster, and quit my sight! Dive deep into the rotting flesh of this blanched and bloodless land!" He inhales deeply, exhales again, and the Blessing begins to gather once more. "Drag the soil of this world over your marrowless bones, and perhaps you shall escape my wrath! Flee before the faithful servants of the ONE TRUE GODDESS!" he shouts, thrusting his hand forward and firing a shirkeing bolt of wind and fury.
GS: Corwynt has attacked Sword Dancer with Wind Shot! GS: Corwynt has completed his action. GS: CRITICAL! Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Cyre H. Lorentz's Grand Pressure for 72 hit points! GS: Mute! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Corwynt's Wind Shot for 54 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Jack Van Burace has posed.
Jack is angry.
I mean really, he's never not angry. Espicially lately. That emotion one of the few things that keeps him moving fowards. This last trip to a corrupted Trial did not help. At all. The fact that the Trial Knight got away and left them at the bottom of a filthy pool of congealed Malevolence didn't help matters much.
Which of course ment that as soon as he had arrived he had done his best to...well...vent that anger on the attacking Hellions.
He got a bit carried away.
The manifestation of the Sword Dancer itself though has given him a very large target and he slowly lets a grin spread across his face. Its not a pleasent one. Its full of wild madness and fury as he switches his attention to the larger target. Dimly the shouts of people wanting to save the statue come to his ears and vagely the screams of townsfolk penetrate into his mind, but for this one singular moment he just wants to make something else hurt.
So he can forget he does.
Which isn't to say that he won't kill any Hellion getting in his way of course. Those are just a happy concidences.
Hanpan on the other hand holds on for dear life. Clinging to Jack while scanning the mess that is this fight for Cecelia and others. To try to direct Jack's towering rage towards who needs it.
GS: Jack Van Burace has attacked Sword Dancer with Heal Blade! GS: Jack Van Burace has completed his action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Jack Van Burace's Heal Blade for 35 hit points! GS: Jack Van Burace takes Cover! He gains 50 temporary hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
Immediately, Noeline can sense that her suspicions are correct - that this is going to be an absolute mess. It isn't even the Malevolence swirling around the village that makes that much clear, so much as the sheer melting pot of Drifters and shamans and stress and anger and fear. She doesn't need a Dragon's Tear to feel the hair on the back of her neck prick up in uncertainty, even if she meets the Hellion horde with her scythe at the ready, her knuckles whitening as she firms up her grip on the weapon's haft.
The fervour of the Althenan Guard is a comfort at a time like this, even if Noeline's not really sure how long that feeling will last. The Princess and her retinue charging into battle is-- both a comfort and a concern, but it's not as if she's going to stop the Adlehyde shaman from doing what she feels she must. The Trial Knight's surely not going to let her out of their sights so easily, after all.
How will this compare to the Quarter Knights descending on Wayside, she wonders for a moment--
--and then there's no time to wonder. The first pulse of Malevolent energy nearly carries her off her feet, but she slams the butt of her scythe into the ground to steady herself. The second, greater pulse of the calcified creature bursting from the ground and surrounding the Guardian Statue is large enough to send her flying backwards, to launch her into and through a rough stone wall now cracked and pitted.
Or it would if it weren't for the sudden corona of darkness that rises to meet it, the Malevolent purple hue meeting the blackened, shifting one of Duras Drum. She lets its power wash over her for a moment - not enough to hurt, just enough to ripple over her with the curious sensation of a Medium she once never expected to use - and then feels it dissipate at her command, just in time for Riesenlied's own powers to take its place.
Instinct, more than anything else, sends her reeling forwards through the melee in an attempt to track the position of the Sword Dancer, the slow crumbling of the Statue within a prickling at the back of her mind - or perhaps that's just the quiet amusement of the Hades Guardian as he watches the fun. Instinct is what makes her flit past several Hellions, darting easily around the side of a gigantic boar; she grimaces for a moment at the line of bloodshot eyes that peer at her from its spine, the twisting of the flesh underneath - and she puts all her strength into her next swing, carving a huge bloody line across its side before instantly dodging several steps back from the awful purple ichor that oozes out as it crumples to the ground.
Her next step slips backwards away from the rat-thing that crashes to the ground where she was just standing; Noeline drives a kick into its midriff, almost daintily, and then tears her weapon up in a crescent arc to send it flying away in several pieces. The next instant sends her sweeping to the side in a wide arc to bisect the creature harrassing Dva. It is practically a dance - but once where she remains firmly in the midst of it, challenging the hideous creatures around them to face her blade.
GS: Noeline has attacked Sword Dancer with Stinging Rebuke! GS: Noeline has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Noeline's Stinging Rebuke for 112 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Xantia has posed.
It doesn't look like Dean will be getting any more context for what Fei is asking him to do. Xantia's attention is firmly on the Trial Knight, not noticing their exchange. But what Fei is forgetting is that Xantia already promised once that she'd stop him if it ever looked like he was losing it. At this rate, Dean and Xantia are gonna run headlong into each other trying to do the same thing. Which wouldn't be the first time. At least it'd inject some levity into an otherwise very depressing and serious situation.
Levity which would otherwise likely be absent for the foreseeable future, as K.K. calls forth something very familiar. Xantia braces herself as the surrounding area snaps and tears, debris crashing into her crossed arms. It's not without pain, nor injury, nor being forcibly pushed back... but she remains standing in the face of this emerging presence. One so oppressive and powerful that even she can clearly witness and recognize it. That skeletal monster with the swords. The one that nearly killed her before. Yet at that time, despite her wounds, she continue to fight, managing to shatter its skull. And so the prevailing thought is... this thing is not invincible. She can fight this. She knows she can. No thought given to what condition she might end up in, in doing so. It isn't what matters here.
From the Trial Knight, she receives no answer that she can make sense of, but that's nothing new. She certainly can't understand why despair is important, or at all necessary. Holding onto its polar opposite is all that keeps her going sometimes. Perhaps that's why she finds herself here again, somehow drawn to oppose it however it manifests.
"You again, too... then, I'll beat you as many times as it takes!" But this time, she has something that she didn't before. A working ARM. The red energy blade springs to life from the bracer on her right arm, and she leaps forward, not particularly intimidated that - even if hers is borne from fancy technology - it's one blade against many. That single-minded recklessness in facing every threat head-on hasn't changed.
GS: Xantia has attacked Sword Dancer with Crimson Flash! GS: Xantia has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Irrational. Impossible. NO, something in Emma Hetfield shrieks as her eyes take in the Sword Dancer, her position near Cecilia meaning that she is not in the immediate brunt of harm's way. She stares at it. A small and frightened part of her wants to go and hide, forever.
But that is the seed from which something greater has grown, she tells herself. The Emulator is brandished, as if it were a protective talisman rather than an enigmatic piece of artifact technology.
"I'm going to make paths for these helpless locals in a moment, Cecilia, so don't worry too much about me," Emma states to her. "But my insight tells me that there may be no better time to learn something about what enemy we face, and so I must needs be driven to this." Her head tilts back.
Emma twirls on her heel even as Jack runs in, past - "Hello Hanpan," Emma says in passing - and thin sparkles of green form a sort of bamboo curtain around her. Those who look closely might think there is a suggestion of glyphic script, some kind of subtle writing, an arcane code beyond the casual ken of observers.
They might be right!
I have to look at it, Emma thinks. I don't want to but I have to. This is where I am now and there is no way out but through. I have to -
The twirl stops and she holds out that green pane of light-glass towards the Sword Dancer.
Red and blue circles spiral together, a spot of light in the gloom. "Come to me," Emma breathes. "Let's get this over with--!"
GS: Emma Hetfield has attacked Sword Dancer with Download! GS: Emma Hetfield has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.
Fei Fong Wong figured K.K would say something like that, but sometimes you just have to let your heart speak even if your brain knows that you're going to be told it's the wrong question to ask and, for that matter, not be informed of the correct question. It must be done and all that. "How the fuck," Fei says. "Do you think that we're looking away from this? It's Screaming."
Fei Fong Wong has nothing to say about ouroboros. He does know he has to keep hitting this thing as hard as possible because if it's not stopped and quickly, it'll be too late to do much of anything. It could all be over in a matter of seconds. The time for being careful is over.
But he does see Dva. He senses Dva. Already feeling better isn't she, after destroying that statue? It was psychic trauma, Fei remembers, but that doesn't absolve her. It doesn't absolve anyone. He knows that better than anybody. There's no Elly here.
"Xantia, there's no time to go defense. We have to kill it asap." Fei says.
A whip of madness slices through Fei's arms. Fei's mind is a steel trap with a beast wanting out. Dean's words keep him from going berserk right there, but with this much meat out there to chew on, how long can he keep his cool. Is that what he should even be doing. "Thanks Dean." He says.
He then runs right for the Sword Dancer, slamming his feet rapidly against the monster, trying to hurt it as much as possible before he's forced back.
All he wants is power, Fei thinks, just like Grahf. That's why he's having everybody fight this thing while the sword is breaking the statue, a statue he could've just smashed with his fist if he wanted to. No, K.K just wants them able to smash things at a level they approve of.
Fine.
Can you feel it, fake? Can you feel your friends succumbing to their base impulses? Can you feel them relating to others through destruction?
FEI PSYCHO 97
<Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.
If they work together, they're certain to be able to protect the villagers and lead them out.
But the situation is getting worse, isn't it? And even now, it might be like attempting to plug a sieve.
"Taking the fight to them, then. ...I understand," she says to Dean. "It may be our only choice. With the others shielding the villagers, perhaps it may be possible. The Trial Knight..." Avril murmurs, holding her blade at her side. "Have I heard that name before?" But she shakes her head, thus cutting short any attempt at a trek down memory lane. "No, I understand. They are a force unto themselves. Whatever they mean to do here..."
Malevolence. She has heard of what it can do before now.
Had seen it, first hand.
Even before any of that that, something about it seems strangely familiar.
But this -- the display unwinding before her and damping the whole village in a sickly pallor -- is different. Is it the extent? It's as if she's walked into an entirely different world. No, that's not right.
The question will continue to nag at her for some time.
"Are you doin' this because... this is the only thing you can do?" Gwen asks, after K.K.'s purpose, not far from Avril's side. Avril glances over at her, then redirects her attention towards the knight, now again gripping Absolute Zero tight.
"Because it is what must be done."
Avril's breath grows shallow for an instant, her blue eyes unfocused. "...What must be done," she echoes, then blinks. Then shakes her head and finally lifts her her blade, pointing Absolute Zero at the armored figure. It's but a murmur, what she says -- perhaps only Gwen might hear it. To whom it's directed may be uncertain.
"...Do the ends justify the means?"
The tip of her sword wavers in the air. Lowers.
Then directs earthwards as the distortion of the shockwave explodes across the field. A cut-off gasp escapes her lips and, pained, -- for it's cold, so deathly cold -- Avril twists away from the onslaught. Her attention only returns to the Statue by increments, her gaze slowly lifting to take in the thing that now looms above it.
"No... the Statue--"
It's crumbling.
Before she really fully parses that she's running, she's running, a full-on dash across the battlefield towards the thing that holds the slowly fragmenting Statue.
There are Hellions, come forth onto the field.
There are people, villagers who haven't evacuated.
She's aware of these things, but only has the focus for the blade that carves in towards her, the one she leaps to evade and takes a long glancing strike -- a streak of red there and gone in an eyeblink -- along a thigh for.
It doesn't stop her. Still in flight -- if a flight with a wing clipped -- Avril strikes out in the same instant she's struck, intent on trading blow for blow with the monstrous skeleton.
GS: Avril Vent Fleur has attacked Sword Dancer with Absolute Zero - Blade! GS: Avril Vent Fleur has completed her action. GS: Fei Fong Wong has attacked Sword Dancer with Hoten! GS: Fei Fong Wong has completed his action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Xantia's Crimson Flash for 59 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Emma Hetfield's Download for 47 hit points! GS: Emma Hetfield drains Sword Dancer! Emma Hetfield gains 46 temporary hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Avril Vent Fleur's Absolute Zero - Blade for 99 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Fei Fong Wong's Hoten for 113 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
'The futility that you all attempt to look away from. But you know, if you would but look.'
"I know," Ida says. "I've seen it." It's tearing into her heart as she speaks. "Some days it seems as though no one else has. I don't know how they could keep on living if they had."
The rage might be disquieting, but it's a bulwark against the tide of all-consuming nothingness that threatens to sap her strength to do anything. It would be so easy for her to just curl up into a ball and hope that she never sees the thing that kills her. It would be so easy.
The purification does not work. Ida was expecting it to fail, and is not disappointed; she is, however, flung free of the temple grounds. It would be so easy just to go limp as a ragdoll, and to hit the ground and stay there. She remembers the words of one of the few people she's met who understands.
Don't let the pain disrupt the natural flow, don't hide from it. Channel it! That is what it takes to become a demon!
Ida hits the mud next to Rosaline, and skids. Gauntleted fingers dig into the soil, squeezing tight. Ida rises just in time for a whip of Malevolence to race at her; it crackles across her shoulder, sapping the feeling out of her skin as it saps her emotions. Ida breathes in, feels the fetid air flow into her lungs. She breathes out, and motes of luminous chi glow like fireflies before her. Take the despair. Feed it to the anger like you're stoking a fire. Any pain you feel is better than feeling nothing.
"This is no game," Ida says, to Rosaline. She sounds like she is balanced on a razor's edge. She has to hand it to K.K.--this is, at first glance, a fiendish choice between innocents and a Statue, and it looks like Ida has chosen the former. She blurs forwards, towards the still-forming Sword Dancer, motes of chi flickering around her aching, tired feet. She springs into the air, hanging before the Sword Dancer's left shin, arms raised, hands clenched together. She brings both down in an overhead hammerblow at the Sword Dancer's leg, in what looks at first glance to be a straightforward attack against it alone.
But there's incredible force behind that blow, and some of the Hellions are behind the Sword Dancer. She is, simply put, trying to knock it down and drop it on the Hellions.
GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has attacked Sword Dancer with Body Blow! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ida Everstead-Rey's Body Blow for 56 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Cecilia Adlehyde has posed.
Cecilia and Emma are talking practicality when the Trial Knight speaks, and at last Cecilia gives the ambiguous white knight a look. Her knuckles whiten on her staff. Her teeth grind, but...
But she doesn't really have anything to say. The Sword Dancer has formed; some horrible spiritual beast draping itself about the sacred Statue like a veil of sin. "...starting to see why Ida likes you so much," she mutters, her lip curling. She holds aloft her staff, a magic barrier whipping wild to batter aside the Malevolent power, leaving the Princess largely unscathed. Then to her side, "Doctor Emma," she says, familiarity she has previously avoided; "Can you get anything about that...thing?"
Oh, Jack. "Jack!" she calls. "Watch yourself!" ... "He's not going to watch himself," she mutters, frustrated, and throws up her staff, as a Medium leaps to the fore, twirling magic circles interlocking around it while she screams. "Material!"
Her form flickers as a Guardian usurps it; Grudiev forming. Glaring. Shrieking, as power gathers in its crystalline shoulders. "Magnetron Bomb!"
It fires - a gyrating, pulsing bolt of light screaming across the distance to blast into the Sword Dancer's body, shattering and scattering ground into cover-height shards as it goes.
GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has attacked Sword Dancer with Material - Magnetron Bomb! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Jack Van Burace has posed.
"He's not going to watch himself!!!" Shouts Hanpan as he tries to steer the angry swordsman.
<Pose Tracker> Ryudo has posed.
In the moments before the statue arrive and the horde descends, Ryudo's attention is briefly stolen by the harsh and worldly advice offered by Ida. It's not often that he finds others speaking the language of his internal monologue. He offers her an intent look as if truly _seeing_ her for the first time. "That it is. The only path forward is the one we make for ourselves." Brave words for one as tired as he. They have fought alongside each other several times now, and it is well evident that he doesn't have the strength to heft that bastard sword of his with a single-handed grip -- the blade is held before him instead of over the shoulder with the usual bravado.
Cyre asks after his brother and is given no answer. Answer enough. Deep within the Geohound, something long buried stirs. He's still sorting out just what that something is when he's forced to brace himself against the shockwave by kneeling and using the blade as his support. Raising a hand to his eyes to shield them from the glare of the explosion, his attempt to stand is ended prematurely as the rippling malevolence smashes against the side of his torso. The blade keeps him anchored in place once more, but if the most he can do in his current state is remain standing, defeat is all but certain.
And so he buys himself time.
Lowering his hand to the medium attached to his bandolier -- not the medallion of Schturdark that was blackened by the influence of Valmar, but that of Solais Emsu -- several purple spheres of energy manifest in the air behind him. He returns fire with a volley of his own, rising to his feet behind a descending cascade of electricity.
His attention is stolen by the howls of hellions descending upon the populace. "Are you telling me those idiots refused to evacuate?!" Futile rage where there is no logic to be had. It's a given that people will not abandon their beloved homes, no matter how powerless they may be.
GS: Ryudo has attacked Sword Dancer with Zap!! GS: Ryudo has completed his action. GS: CRITICAL! Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Cecilia Adlehyde's Material - Magnetron Bomb for 150 hit points! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde takes Cover! She gains 50 temporary hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ryudo's Zap! for 87 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Gwen Whitlock says, "Then we'll do what needs to be done." The other words he has only set herself in her answer."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
'Because it is what must be done.'
Gwen misunderstood K.K.'s intent. K.K. is not forced to do anything. He just... is. Maybe Gwen's analogy hit closer to the truth than she thought.
There is also Avril's own words, which echo Gwen's own feelings to the matter.
"Then we'll do what needs to be done." The other words he has only set herself in her answer.
When Dean and Avril choose their target, Gwen follows. Even if she feels the need to help the villagers, the crumbling statue could mean a bigger blow to the survivor's morale later on than anything else.
There's also the matter of still feeling a little raw from the events of the past few days, and, well, Jack might not be able to stop himself if he goes too far.
As the skeleton's Malevolence lashes out, Gwen doubles over, grunting, but rises. She can handle this. She just needs to....
.... well, she supposes, the best thing she can really do here is shoot the skeleton with her ARM until it, the statue, or she falls over, really.
GS: Gwen Whitlock has attacked Sword Dancer with Coil Cannon EX! GS: Gwen Whitlock has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Gwen Whitlock's Coil Cannon EX for 122 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
... I will show you, K.K. I have not given up on humanity... nor do I have plans to.
Within the ruins that was once a shrine, the Trial Knight hears those whispered words. Clawed fingers twitch, head bowed within the rubble as rain slicks white armor in a effervescent shine.
"... Then let us see," they say to themselves. And the Sword Dancer rises anew.
The Hellions rise, wild and tempestuous. A flying, bird-like beast is shot down from the skies by Jedan's bullet, as another still lunges, attempting to drag claws into Salamandra only to be swat aside by burning, fiery wings.
So many of the villagers are inured to the sorrowful Malevolence; it's only that brief salve of Riesenlied's empathy that stirs so many, and only the protection of the Drifters that save them from the violent madness of the Hellions. So many more fall, and yet so many more rise in their place, beating, snarling, attempting to run down anything they can. The illusions buy time -- precious time to start evacuating those villagers, one by one, shielded against the beasts.
But the Sword Dancer does not halt. For them, or anything else. The way it moves is so feeble, so tired. Where in Lahan, this beast -- if it is in fact the same creature -- seemed almost fearful, jittery in that strange, unnatural way animals might before it lashes out. Now? Now it is lethargic. Slothful. Lumbering forward as if forced to like a pupper dragged limply along on strings, and looking all the more unnatural for it. Malevolence rises, blistering like an overload around its slow, sad form. A tempest of power.
Lethargic. Slothful. And deceptively dangerous. Ethius is the first to learn this truth as he turns his sorcerous attentions on the Dancer, his attention turned towards the rusted edge of its katana. Heat swelters, bakes at the blade, sizzles the calcified malevolence of its skeletal fingers until it bubbles. The Hellion looks slowly down upon that baking blade, rusted edge dulling. And its sunken eyeless sockets turn upon Ethius, a flicker of pink and purple within their dark depths. Its jaw opens.
And pure sorrow sings its sad sound into Ethius' mind as the Dancer slowly reaches forth... and touches the tip of that rusted blade to Ethius' chest. And pushes. A feeble thrust.
A rust for the heart.
Any more it intends is left by the wayside as rubble compelled by Jay CRASHES into the backs of its arms. That katana snaps aside, Malevolent bone splintering and fracturing off its limbs. And as it groans... the rubble twists, and pulls -inward-, until it is -snapping- into place along those injured areas. Before, the Dancer had made an armor out of the pieces of destroyed Gears of Lahan. Now?
This place, this desecration, becomes its armor.
It is as those pieces of rubble socket into place along its body that Rose comes. She lunges, daggers of glowing energy piercing through joints. In anything else, it might deter it, might keep it from swinging. Arms jam. Flex.
And then -swing- in an improbably fast motion for something so damaged and so hamstrung, an instaneous swirl of blades that threatens to catch Rose up within its wrath if she is not careful.
It is lights from Rosaline that distract it, explosions of magic rippling across its skeletal hide as it staggers backwards with a helpless groan. And yet, somehow, it sounds... relieved? Like the pain was a gift. A blessing. A reprieve from the futility of life. The numbness of existence. Everything grows so much colder.
Dean and Jack come in concern, blade and bullet, rage and resolve. Jack's edge carves into the skeletal beast as easily as it cleaved the Hellions to come before, and Dean's ammo unload upon the beast from afar. It staggers backwards, heaving a weary sigh through the air... and then its blades come down, three in all, all slicing to drive through Jack and -launch- him straight towards Dean within a singular instant. So much power. And within that brief contact, Jack can feel it, within the blade...
A spark of hatred. A kindred sentiment.
Calling to him. Begging him to have the strength to free it.
To make its power his own.
Hellions are driven through in hordes as Kourin rushes towards the Dancer. As she does, its Solarian blade snaps high, bristling with violet sickness. Her sword drives into the bony depths of what out to be its spine --
--and it responds by sweeping the earth beneath Kourin to -batter- her with a sudden crescent of blackened, bleak energy that sings nothing but how futile her attempts are into her soul. Begs her to stop. Please. Surrender. It's easier. Isn't it?
Those blades rise up as despair rains down in thick droplets from above. It prepares to give Kourin the surrender that -it- so yearns for...
... and just before it can, a bolt of raging wind and pure, magical justice CRASHES into the side of the skeletal Hellion. Bones crack in a sickening snap. It lurches towards its right, groaning as those blades impale the ground around Kourin. And every. Ounce. Of the Malevolence within them transfers into the earth. There is a shudder. A sickening shudder.
And the marshy ground beneath Corwynt splits open. Beneath Jay. Beneath Emma, and Rosaline. Emma will have a moment to glean the Hellion's malevolent nature, how it seems to be channeling a specific flavor of the discordant stuff, all channeled towards the physical rather than magical or technological -- and trace elements of Lahan soil still clinging to its calcified, spiritual bones -- before fissures of malevolent cold flame EXPLODE beneath all of them, intent on consuming them in utter agony and futility.
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
Noeline's efforts clear out yet more Hellions. But as she drives her Guardian's power to her call, the Dancer's attention turns towards the Tainted Demons. Its mouth opens. A hiss rings out, a scream across the senses. Its blades fly.
And from them ripples more of that Malevolent flame, bubbling cold, icy despair through the weeping skies as they seek a collision course with Noeline, with Riesenlied -- with -any- of their cohorts that are unfortunate enough to be in their path.
Xantia shouts her defiance. And as she does, the Dancer slowly turns towards her. It does not try to stop her, nor even defend itself. It accepts her angry aggression full on, taking her reckless strike as the sizzling edge of energy -carves- an ugly wound across blackened ribs. One blade against many.
And Xantia is allowed to reacquaint herself with that fact as those blades DRIVE down, three in one, in an attempt to skewer her within the flash of a second.
Avril and Fei fly for the Dancer next. Feet pummel wounded ribs, shattering some. The edge of Avrils blades cleave yet more off. Malevolence globs, oozes out, starts to reassemble broken pieces. And the Sword Dancer just... whimpers. Whimpers like something that wants this to stop. Whimpers like something that knows it never will. Like the dog that has been shocked too often and knows nothing but to lay down and accept it. Hopeless. Useless. Giving in. Because it's the only option. Isn't it?
The thoughts whisper, bleak and dreary, across the senses, seconds before a cone of black energy -slices- from the beast's blades -- looking to gobble up Avril and Fei within their cold fervor.
It is a blackness that continues to manifest itself even as Grudiev forms itself. Lightning crackles around the Dancer almost as if in response, like it was summoned from the depths of the Statue within it. Pulsing light EXPLODES and consumes the skeletal Hellion, bones ripping off as it is enveloped in the heated pulse of light. And from within that blinding brightness -- the Dancer -punctures- free, groaning warily as a burst of black sings across the ground to answer Cecilia in turn -- and engulf her within the veil of sorrow.
Purple spheres batter the Dancer afterwards. It staggers back, and even as it does, the ground opens up beneath Ryudo like a delayed reaction, splitting and spitting marshy wetness as crackling pink and violet energy -gushes- forth from the wound in the earth. The Sword Dancer reels from the Geohound's efforts... and it is Ida, with that singular, rage-fueled blow, that manages to topple it. It falls, crashing into the Hellions behind it with a cacophonous BOOM of impact. The beasts are crushed underfoot. And for a moment, it just lies there, as if defeated.
And slowly, that fourth arm -- that unarmed hand -- reaches up.
Slowly, the Sword Dancer rises unnaturally, as if it were pulled up.
And slowly... the black blade imbedded in its skull is ripped free.
It stares, silent.
And it is still so damningly quiet as it plunges that purple-edged weapon into Ida's chest. To sink its ephemeral edge into her heart. Into her mind. Into her soul.
And fill it with the black nothingness that they are all destined to.
And as this rages on, the Trial Knight just watches. Those demands, those proclamations, they all reach them -- and yet, they earn no response as they bear witness from within the ruins of the shrine, standing upon its shattered foundations silent and unmoving. Their head merely tilts. Their voice, when it comes, for all.
"Is this all you have, then? No. Push harder. There is no mercy in this world that will be granted you here. This is the world. This is the way.
"And you who think this a game, know the consequences of your folly firsthand."
The Hellions flood. Malevolent magic crackles, racing for the villagers. Beasts fall, brandishing claws to carve into them. The Golden Lion lunges, maw gaping and crackling with electric fury.
And just before it can --
Cyre steps in its -- his -- way.
Come! This way!
The Lion comes to a skidding halt. Empty, blackened eyes stare. Leon...
And he lunges for Cyre and Catenna both, no comprehension in the Hellion that was once Leon's stare as he lashes out at the first thing he sees as if desperate to drive it away. Lightning crackles at his claws. He looks to grasp onto Cyre. Dig those talons in.
And the veritable storm of electricity that sparks and ROARS from the beast that was once Leon is as hellacious as it is despairing as it seeks to devour them both.
GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Sword Dancer with Malevolent Coil! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Malevolent Coil for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Riesenlied with Demon Fang! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Noeline with Demon Fang! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Jack Van Burace with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Dean Stark with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Xantia with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rose with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Fei Fong Wong with Demon Roar! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Kourin with Demon Roar! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Avril Vent Fleur with Demon Roar! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Cecilia Adlehyde with Demon Fang! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ryudo with Devil's Maw! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Emma Hetfield with Devil's Maw! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Jacqueline Barber with Devil's Maw! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Corwynt with Devil's Maw! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rosaline Calice with Devil's Maw! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ida Everstead-Rey with Despair! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ethius Hesiod with Rusted Blade! GS: Riesenlied takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Fang for 153 hit points!
DC: MISS! Rose completely evades Nightmare Instant from Sword Dancer! DC: MISS! Noeline completely evades Demon Fang from Sword Dancer!
GS: Emma Hetfield guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Devil's Maw for 64 hit points! GS: Disease! Statuses applied to Emma Hetfield! GS: CRITICAL! Jack Van Burace takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Nightmare Instant for 269 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Jack Van Burace! GS: Sneak! The true nature of Sword Dancer's attack becomes clear! GS: Ethius Hesiod takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Rusted Blade for 89 hit points! GS: Jacqueline Barber critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Devil's Maw for 19 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Gwen Whitlock with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Sword Dancer has completed its action. GS: Hellion Horde enters CONDITION GREEN!! GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Catenna with Mindflayer! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Cyre H. Lorentz with Decay! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Catenna takes a glancing hit from Hellion Horde's Mindflayer for 21 hit points! GS: Disease and Weaken! Statuses applied to Catenna! GS: Hellion Horde enters CONDITION GREEN!! GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Ida Everstead-Rey with Death From Above! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: CRITICAL! Corwynt takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Devil's Maw for 72 hit points! GS: Poison and Disease! Statuses applied to Corwynt! GS: Gwen Whitlock guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Nightmare Instant for 90 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Cyre H. Lorentz takes a glancing hit from Hellion Horde's Decay for 58 hit points! GS: Poison, Break, Cripple, Jam, and Mute! Statuses applied to Cyre H. Lorentz! GS: CRITICAL! Dean Stark critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Nightmare Instant for 45 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Dean Stark! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Fang for 108 hit points!
DC: MISS! Ida Everstead-Rey completely evades Death From Above from Hellion Horde!
GS: Ida Everstead-Rey takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Despair for 353 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Kourin takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Roar for 140 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Kourin! GS: Avril Vent Fleur takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Roar for 96 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
Current Round: 2/4
GS: Xantia guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Nightmare Instant for 87 hit points! GS: Ryudo takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Devil's Maw for 104 hit points! GS: Disease! Statuses applied to Ryudo! GS: Rosaline Calice takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Devil's Maw for 51 hit points! GS: Disease! Statuses applied to Rosaline Calice!
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin is buffeted and battered by the Sword Dancer's attack, and visibly slows for a moment. Give up...it's tempting. It would be so easy. But...Kourin's stronger than that. Shaking her head to clear it, she takes one step forward.
She isn't made to give up. She has faced death before.
Another step.
She has walked away from everything she knew.
Another step, faster. Momentum building back up.
She has faced White Knight Leo, her former commander. She has looked into his eyes and told him he is wrong. She told him that she would stand with him no more. She gave up everything.
Another step, now breaking into a charge.
She has friends here, putting their lives on the line. Her mouth opens, she draws a deep breath.
"CROSS SLASH!"
Kourin doesn't do giving up.
GS: Kourin has attacked Sword Dancer with Cross Slash! GS: Kourin takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Kourin has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Kourin's Cross Slash for 63 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied's gaze cuts across to Noeline as she engages with the Hellions; she can't help but have a pang of worry, but she knows enough to not voice it -- she trusts her combat skill, and knows that it is greater than her own. There's a hiss from Dva as she gawks up towards the Crimson Noble to go, "It's a bit weird... these guys are-- human, once? Just now, even?"
Jedan covers for them, as he launches several more rubber bullets that land square against the boar's legs and snout as well, to further render it weaker.
"The Malevolence is influencing their thoughts," Riesenlied explains quickly to Ryudo as she helps a nearby teenager -- perhaps the same one Ethius opts to not save in favour of darting ahead towards that katana. Her blade parries against the werewolf's claws, and she shoves it away with a deft flourish, haggard for breath.
Riesenlied catches a glance to Cyre's call, and reasserts, "Look to the light!" to the villagers, as she once more raises the light of the Dragon's Tear to lead the way through the rain, even as the weather continues to sap away at her very endurance.
She flinches for a brief moment, as she witnesses the Shaman Princess' call of the Guardian of Earth; her very arms tremble for a moment, her knees buckling, but she perseveres through it. They all need to work together right now... no matter what their very biologies do to each other.
Slowly, patiently, she helps every single villager. Working her way through to their senses, to help them to their feet... and together, they march through the mire of darkness, towards the comfort of the carriers that await them.
The Sword Dancer draws her attention as she helps that teen. Its sensations... its presence. The way it moves with a lethargic fashion that seeps onward to the villagers... what was the source of its pain? Was this a creature so affixed by the Trial Knight, or something... else? She does not quite understand.
Its blade carves against her, and she's forced to hold strong as she draws her own blade and is pushed past, the Demon Fang discharging and eliciting a gritted noise of pain from the Malevolence-weak Hyadean. "... not yet ...!"
She draws forward -- and disappears into a wayward shimmer of photons, moving to defend the next set of villagers struggling under the taint of the dissonant aura; rather than her blade, though, it is her hand that she touches forward-- as she forcefully pushes her empathic aura outwards, in an attempt to overwhelm the Hellions and slow their movements.
"You are stronger than this taint that binds you... awaken!"
GS: Riesenlied has attacked Sword Dancer with Rising Heart - 'Spiriting Away'! GS: Riesenlied has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Riesenlied's Rising Heart - 'Spiriting Away' for 135 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
Ida skids forward as she lands, soupy mud spraying up from her heels. She rises, and a smile splits her face from ear to ear as the titan takes a fall. That's right, she thinks. How does it feel? Ida sinks back into a fighting stance, arms raised, eyes tracking the behemoth as it lifts itself out of the muck. It tears the weapon free.
Move, Ida thinks. It's all she has time to. The mud seems to solidify around her feet. The Sword Dancer's strike seems to slow down, lightning-quick though it is, as she tries in vain to pull herself free from the Malevolence-laced muck. Just be still. Let it happen.
Ida tries to twist at the last second, but that only means the Sword Dancer's strike visibly twists her back around as it plunges through her chest. The black blade comes out her back, the point digging into the mud. Ida stands there, frozen, transfixed on the Sword Dancer's weapon like a bug on a pin. There's no blood. She's still breathing. She's still staring straight ahead, but what--what's happening? What's that darkness seeping off the blade?
<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.
"Of course I will," Catenna murmurs. Sword in hand, she begins to move after Cyre, though she looks back for a couple of seconds as she does so.
Not for the first time, she pines for the power of that Sentry of Lunar. As she dashes along behind Cyre, she clutches her hand to her breast and prays internally.
Blessed Moon... please... surely there must be some way to restore these innocents...!
Push harder.
She tries. The blackened-eyed lion lunges at her with a thunderous roar of electricity. The storm of one maddened brother lunging at the other. With a gasp, Catenna throws her arms up to shield herself.
Electrical bolts punch past her; a few slash across her, searing past to singe her arms and hips as she rolls away as fast as she possibly can. It's close, moreso than she'd like, leaving aching scorches across her shoulders. She winces as she moves her sword into a defensive position, recoiling a little further before trying to come around to help Cyre out -
And finds him locked in battle with his twisted brother, the big leo fighting to latch on to Cyre. Catenna steels herself and moves her left hand to clutch her Medium, more for confidence than because she needs it for her casting; she can cast without contact, after all. Heart hammering against her ribs as fear for Cyre takes over her, Catenna murmurs a few blessed words. They echo subtly, though the sound of them is so quiet as to be lost in the howl of the place and the churn of raw Malevolence through the air.
But then, such is the way of Catenna's magic. She's not one to cast extravagant spells.
And indeed, what she does to Leon Lorentz is simple, subtle and not visually flashy - for the twisted leo is suddenly compressed from both sides and wrenched downward by a sudden, violent, dragging force. The power of gravity roils around Leon as Catenna levels her hand at him. Fighting to hold the spell, she clenches her teeth, forcing the big avatar of Noua Shax to strain his muscles and struggle against his own amplified body weight to even move against Cyre.
"There is... more in people's hearts than darkness," she growls, half to the Hellions before her, half to the White Knight she knows is listening. "You understand our fears and our doubts, for we all have them... but not the will by which we overcome those feelings...!"
GS: CRITICAL! Fei Fong Wong takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Roar for 140 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Fei Fong Wong! GS: Catenna has attacked Sword Dancer with Grav! GS: Catenna has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Catenna's Grav for 84 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer!
<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.
Jacqueline wants to rush out, to go help the villagers. She hears them all around her...but her focus is on the skeletal construct before her. She can't take her attention off of it for more than a moment. It was somehow both lethargic and impossibly fast. A moment's distraction could find her struck through, or cloven in to.
And then, she feels it. Grudiev's Medium heats up, a sudden sign of warning. An attack from the earth below her. Jacqueline leaps backward, and as she does the ground where she once was erupts with Malevolent flame. She's pelted with stone and rubble from the attack, but otherwise manages to escape unharmed.
'Is that all you have', the White Knight asks. No, she couldn't stop here. 'Push harder', they say.
She didn't need to be told that. She had every intention to. Next to her she sees Kourin, one of her dear friends, charging into battle. Kourin hadn't given up yet. Jacqueline couldn't either.
How could she think of this as a game?
Jacqueline reaches into her bags for another Crest.
"Noua Shax...are you there? If you can hear me...if you have the power...help me." Jacqueline urges. She doesn't have the Lightning Guardian's Medium, however. She can only entreat him, and hope that in some way he hears her voice.
Jacqueline invokes her Crest, and the air above the Sword Dancer crackles to life. Not a moment later, a bolt of lightning crashes down towards her opponent.
GS: Jacqueline Barber has attacked Sword Dancer with Lightning Strike! GS: Jacqueline Barber takes 5 damage from Poison! GS: Jacqueline Barber has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Jacqueline Barber's Lightning Strike for 135 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Jack Van Burace has posed.
Jack feels a special kind of satisfaction as his blade carves into the Sword Dancer. He spins, fast as the wind to start to bring that shining silver blur that is his sword against the creature again just as Hanpan screams a warning.
Jack could likely block one blade. Perhaps deflect two. Three though? Three is beyond the ability of any mortal man.
Still he tries.
The first is deflected slightly to the left, sparks striking from where corrupted metal and ancient steel meet. The second cracks against a barrier of magic and wind as Hanpan leaps to defend his partner.
The third though. The third strikes true.
Impaled though the side by a dark blade dripping with Malevolence. Connected for a moment with the dark blade. He can feel the pulse of that power. Strong and steady as a heartbeat. Beating in tune to his own rage as he is lifted off his feet. Jack knows there should be pain. There should be a lot of pain.
All he can feel is cold.
Stubbornly he refuses to yield though, the blade reversed and smashed into the wrist of the Dancer as he tries to sever its hand...
Just a split second before it discards him like so much trash. Flung though the air like one more direction in Deans direction. Its like a special delivery, of an angry bleeding swordsman and a very worried wind mouse.
GS: Jack Van Burace has attacked Sword Dancer with Strike Buddy! GS: Jack Van Burace takes 7 damage from Poison! GS: Jack Van Burace has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Rose has posed.
'Treating this like a game'.
It wasn't even aimed at her, yet Rose is offended. Offended that the Trial Knight can stand above that statement. Isn't that what he... they... are doing? Trial this, test that, with no discernable goal. No, it's not even a game to K.K., is it?
At least a game tells you what you have to do to end it and win. There's an endpoint and the players know it.
After jamming the massive Hellion's arms, Rose sees them move regardless. They swing in unpredictable arcs, movements that would no doubt ruin a human's arms beyond repair. This is, of course, not a human. The deadly sword comes towards her. In an instant, she'll be in two pieces. That was a mistake, to assume its arms would obey human motions.
A wall of ice forms, between Rose and the blade. It isn't enough to stop it, but just enough that Rose, still in freefall, is an inch under the blade when it crashes through the ice. She gets a close shave - quite literally, as the Hellion takes a few locks of hair for its trouble - and then falls to the ground, staring.
"Th... thanks, Mikleo," she says.
Mikleo reappears, wisps of blue light, water and ice forming his body swiftly. "You make the same mistakes Sorey does," he grins.
"Guess I owe you one then," Rose smiles.
"It might be two after this. We need to help cover the villagers, so... want to try?" he offers, finally.
"Thought you'd never offer!" Rose says.
"LUZROV RULAY!" they shout together.
There's a column of brilliant white, blue and gold light as Rose and Mikleo join forces. When it clears, Rose is weilding a massive bow, white and blue with gold accents, taller than she is. Her hair is incredibly long and blonde, ponytailed by a blue ribbon. Her outfit is ceremonial, white and gold all around - detached sleeves, a sort of unitard with a half-cape, two long pieces of fabric behind her like a poofy ballroom dress, and a large blue ribbon on her back, going down with the two halves of the skirt. Thigh-high boots, too. Maximum mobility. Some fanservice.
"... a bow? A BOW?! I thought you used a staff!!" Rose flails.
"Relax or you'll break the Armatus!"
"I don't know how to shoot a bow, Mikleo!!" Rose insists.
"I'll handle it, FOCUS!"
Hesitantly, Rose readies up, aiming at the Sword Dancer. Her voice blends with Mikleo's as they both shout: "SIX FALLING STARS!"
The bow lets loose a torrent of water and holy light, six large, piercing arrows of ice-cold water forming from it and trying to repeatedly run the Hellion through. Rose would look cool if she didn't pause to stare at the bow like she's never seen one before.
DC: Rose switches forms to Armatus Luzrov Rulay!
GS: Rose has attacked Sword Dancer with Six Falling Stars! GS: Rose has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Jack Van Burace's Strike Buddy for 58 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Rose's Six Falling Stars for 139 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.
Dean gives Fei a fierce smile and a thumbs-up in response to his thanks before he runs off to bodily place himself between the villagers and the Hellions. Avril beelines directly for the Sword Dancer, while Gwen chases after her to support her. Dean might be at a further remove, but that's fine--he's got his ranged attacks, and he'll stay right here to defend the villagers--or at least act as a barrier, to herd the Hellions away. Others work more actively towards actually attacking them.
Yet as the battle rages, something seems... wrong. The Sword Dancer seems so sad, so *worn down*, so... full of despair. Dean hesitates to see it, to hear its lamentous sighs. It just... it might be a monster, but he can't help but feel *sorry* for it. He feels like a bully, like a part of a team of bullies, all picking on someone who just wants to be left alone. For a moment, he hesitates, wondering if it's possible to reach out to this poor creature.
But then its fourth arm pulls the blade from its own chest and *thrusts* it into Ida's. "IDA!!" Dean screams, eyes widening in horror at the sight of his friend, run through. In an instant, he's dashing towards her--but then the Sword Dancer slices its blades through Jack and sends him hurtling through the air straight towards Dean. Not one to abandon someone to save himself, Twin Fenrir vanishes from Dean's hands, and he holds out his arms to catch the unfortunately much taller man. Both of them slam into the ground, Dean skidding back several feet--but he's got him. ...Even if that impact bruised his ribs something fierce. He'll have trouble breathing for the next few moments. For now, though, he grimaces as he gets up to his feet, attempting to help Jack (and by proxy, Hanpan) do the same.
"A-are you--(*cough*)--okay?" he wheezes, one eye shut, to Jack. He grits his teeth to glare over at K.K., who speaks up: 'Is this all you have, then? No. Push harder.' "Dammit! Fine! I *will*, then!!"
Dean shouts, already in motion, Twin Fenrir flashing back into his hands. Once he feel the energy of the wind leyline hex under his feet--wind seems *really* abundant in this area for some reason--Dean stops and channels that energy through his copy Sword Medium, which then takes the form of a concussive, physical blast of tornado-force winds that whorl viciously around the Sword Dancer. As sorry as he might feel for the monster, he can't stand back and let it hurt his friends. That's just unacceptable.
Even as he calls upon Equites's power, though, his eyes scan the battlefield again for Ida--and for Fei, Avril, and Gwen. Are they going to be okay? Do they need help? He won't hesitate to act as needed.
GS: Dean Stark has attacked Sword Dancer with Elemental Crush! GS: Dean Stark takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Dean Stark has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
The Symbologist with the unwavering glare meets the lethargic beast's slow trundling by holding his ground. Fearlessness? Purpose. He is in the process of chanting another spell as it approaches, wrapped in that tattering metaphorical cloak of how it does not belong--
Its jaw opens. How it sounds to the ears is not how it sounds to one's heart. Sadness and despair, despondent. Ethius stands his ground, unmoving, as his mind is bathed in sorrow. This is a man whose actions often have further reach than confusion and inconvenience - this is a man who has hurt, who has destroyed, and has seemed to do little to face it.
Just as much as he shuts out the surrounding fear and despair of the innocent - and of those who can still fight - all for what? Is he asking himself that? What other explanation can there be, standing so close to the Hellion, failing to react as it slowly and surely readies a thrusting blow? Anyone could step away from it, were the matter only physical in nature. Reflex, spatial awareness.
The sorrow wants to drag him down into it - he should experience it, for all he's done to a number of people.
"You don't belong here." Ethius mouths out. For what reason they are, for what reason they continue, this seeming disregard for the weight of their emotion seems to be enough to return his fine motor skills as he sways hard to the right--
'Glancing' is a misnomer. Ethius merely avoids an instantaneous expiration. What he gets instead is a gash that runs deep into his left side as he sways at the cusp of being too late.
The rusted blade is caked anew in his blood. A burning sensation of pain, as well as the burning sting of the boiling blade itself that he has attempted to turn molten. A physical wound that should stop even the most stout-hearted soldier on Filgaia - and he is not wearing metal armor that could have dulled the blow.
He lies kneeling, staggered underneath the hulking skeletal swordsman as so much happens around him. Debris slaps at him as it reforms around the creature he is presently underneath. Much raises overhead. He's as much threat of being caught in friendly fire as he may have endangered others here in the past, over his tactics. The lurching monstrosity continues its battle.
The sorrow continues to echo. He misses several key opportunities to strike as he lay covered in dirt, the continuing rain of water, the slurry of the spiritual poison. His right hand clutches at the wound. With half of his face hidden under the bandanna, they can't see him cringe - if he is. His eyes do not water. He blinks several times. His breathing is careful and controlled, as crimson continues to seep out the wound.
His other hand, on the quarterstaff, slams the butt against the ground as he tries to rise up. His fingers flutter against where he tries to hold against his very wound. Droplets of blood escape to the fouled earth below as he staggers after the creature.
From his vantage point, he continues to see suffering. He could stop any of the smaller incidents. The sorrow of those who cannot escape scream ever louder.
"Sand Spray." He calls at the tail end of a Symbological spell, having been able to flex his fingers enough from holding the wound that he finishes the incantation and proper motions with expert timing as he goes for the back of the hand of the rusted blade - thrusting a bloodied hand towards it as a blast of sand escapes his palm with shotgun-like force.
Once more, he does not listen to the suffering around him. In the present, it is immaterial - or so his conviction holds as such that he continues to commit sorcerous violence that may only yet escalate.
GS: Ethius Hesiod has attacked Sword Dancer with Sand Spray! GS: Ethius Hesiod has completed his action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Dean Stark's Elemental Crush for 56 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ethius Hesiod's Sand Spray for 50 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Rosaline Calice has posed.
"I know," Rosaline tells Ida. The knight before them all may not be doing this for amusement, but she feels like a piece on a board all the same. (If only she knew.)
Magical lights strike true, eliciting an odd reaction from the cobbled-together beast. Rosaline wonders. The statue within yearning to be broken free, perhaps? She can only hope.
There's a subtle shift in her balance before the ground starts to give way in earnest. This is all the warning she needs. The nun leaps away as the ground disappears beneath her feet, but even this is not quite enough. Blackened flames wash over her reaching to her very soul.
She rolls to the intact ground, hastily putting out the flames she can. The fire is quickly gone, but she sits up with difficulty, heaving and coughing. Something still burns, something that will be harder to put out.
Her vision swims before her as she gets back up. And through it she sees...
"IDA!"
She rushes over to her friend's side, tears streaming down her face. MAKE THEM PAY, a voice screams in her ears. She talks over it.
"Ida, Ida! I'm here to help you. Please, focus on my voice, don't try to move, I-I--"
Right. Right. Incantation. She clutches her Ethos symbol, and the Crests attached.
"O, Lord of Light, grant them your mercy, that our Brothers and Sisters may live to sing your praise... Holy Kindness!"
Radiant light washes over her.
"N-Now comes the more delicate part." Having removed the sword earlier would have likely meant Ida exploding in a shower of blood. But now, they only have a short window of time to do so, before the healing magic starts working against them, making this much more painful than it has to be.
Rosaline continues talking, on and on. It's all she can do to ignore that voice screaming bloody murder, at the back of her mind.
GS: Rosaline Calice has attacked Ida Everstead-Rey with Holy Kindness! GS: Rosaline Calice has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Xantia has posed.
Fei calls for full offense. Xantia is more than ready to go that route. That's where her strength lies anyway. It's not like she isn't interested in trying to protect the innocent villagers, far from it. She just feels that the best way to do that is to take out the source of the danger. She has all this strength, after all. That makes it her responsibility to do things that not everyone can. Mostly things that involve smashing something. At least she has enough sense to direct her attacks at the Sword Dancer's extremities, to avoid possible damage to the statue itself. Noua Shax wouldn't like that. She should probably worry a bit more about the other consequences of the statue being destroyed. Should, but doesn't.
Xantia's strike hits home. It vaguely registers to her that this was too easy. But if it's making itself easy to hit, that's fine, isn't it? It should be fine... so why doesn't it feel fine? Nevertheless, the full force of three blades swings at her in return. It's all she can do to raise her ARM in protection, stopping the attack short with her own blade and bracer. Yet even escaping being skewered outright, the force of the blows is enough to swat her aside with ease, sending her flying, then skidding across the broken shrinegrounds, until finally coming to a stop, face-down.
Xantia soon raises her head once more, bearing a pained expression. All this strength, and yet, it's not enough, is it? Her gaze falls upon an object, left on the ground a bit further ahead, fallen out of the pocket of her cloak. A tablet, bearing the mark of Noua Shax. She frowns. That's right, this involves Noua Shax too, doesn't it? Why isn't the Guardian doing anything?
She leaps to her feet, stepping over to the tablet, snatching it off the ground, and... begins speaking to it. Berating it, almost. "Hey, Noua Shax... that's your statue, isn't it? And you're a Guardian, right? Shouldn't that mean that these people are under your protection? Then... you should do something about this!"
The details of the Baskar faith aren't what's important, as far as she's concerned. She's just breaking it down in simple terms, how things should be from her simple viewpoint. "I know you said that you needed our help. My help. But that doesn't mean that you can't help me help you, right?" She holds the tablet up to the sky, imploring, "Come on! Help me! If I'm going to win this fight, I need to be stronger!"
Upon this invocation, the medium glows. Noua Shax is responding. Abruptly, the Guardian's leonine form appears in a flash of lightning, roaring a challenge in the direction of the Shadow Dancer. Its head turns, towards Xantia. A nod is given. And then, as the Guardian's projection fades, a bolt of lightning is sent down from the heavens.
To strike Xantia.
Yet this doesn't have the effect one would expect from being struck by lightning. Though it knocks Xantia down to her knees, her body pulsing and crackling with electricity, this is not something entirely unfamiliar to her. It's something she can do to herself, in fact. But this is different. As Xantia slowly rises, she looks at her hands, opening and closing them several times, getting used to this new feeling. The feeling of electricity coursing through her entire body. It's not painful. In fact, she feels great. The way she feels is like nothing she's ever felt before. She feels... powerful. Considering the level of strength that Xantia considers normal, this is something that should be cause of concern.
To suddenly have access to power so much greater than normal is an intoxicating feeling. One which could easily corrupt and cause one to be lost in battle lust. Oddly, the effect on Xantia seems the exact opposite. She's calmer than usual. Her mind sharpened, wise to the situation. Realizing that would be the wrong path to take. That's what they want. Don't give them what they want.
Realizing also, that Fei is failing prey to the despair. And so that's where her attention should be focused first. Stepping towards the martial artist, quite possibly the most important person in her life, she rests a hand on his shoulder. The electricity surrounding her body doesn't harm him either. It's as if it's not even there. Only the force of her grip is perceivable. And the warmth of her smile.
"Fei. I'm here. I'll always be here. We're going to stop this, and make the world a better place together. Okay? Stay strong. Stay calm. They can never win as long as we're here to show them that nothing they do will ever make us give up hope."
GS: Xantia has attacked Xantia with Material - Greased Lightning! GS: Xantia has completed her action. GS: Xantia takes a solid hit from Xantia's Material - Greased Lightning for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper and Quick! Statuses applied to Xantia!
<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.
It takes a brave man to stand in the path of a maddened beast. Cyre is not what he would call brave. He is the one who ran away. The one who was faced with the responsibility of leadership and balked. The one who chose a life of endless wanderlust over the path that so many had pinned their hopes, their dreams, their expectations on. He is the coward. The weakling. The lesser child.
He would not call himself brave.
But he's here none-the-less.
The beast that was Leon charges, the darkness having swallowed the man that should be within. Where others might see nothing more than a monster, Cyre sees something else. It takes all that he has to maintain his form for longer than a few seconds, and Leon has been in this state for... how long. How long now. How soon before his body tears itself apart? How long until the power of Golden Lion and the vileness surging in his veins collapses his soul?
The beast charges.
Cyre receives it. Electricity pours through his body, corrupt lightning streaking across the synapses in his brain. He grits his teeth, plasma arcs between his lips. The beast's jaws fix in his shoulder, drawing a spray of fresh blood. The Nahual's hand reaches out, seizine the lion by its mane. "Leon," he murmurs as the familiar tug of Celesdue's power pulls them both to the earth. "I... I'm so sorry. I never wanted this to happen. You... I hoped that you'd always be here so that I could come back someday to rub everything I'd done in your face. Now look at us..."
"Foolish," his hand closes tight around the Gale Claw as motes of green light begin to push back against the encroaching purple. "It was... so foolish."
"I wanted them to see that I was your equal. All I did was leave my best friend-- my brother-- to carry the world alone. But..." The light grows, swallowing him up. "In leaving, I found so much. I found purpose" A vast field of green washes into the world as something seizes hold of the howling, screaming wind. "I found companionship." The air... Smells fresh. Clean. "I found someone I could give myself to." A pure breath exhales across the borken landscape.
"I regret leaving you behind. But..."
"I regret more not taking you with me."
The hand that seizes the corrupted lion is a hand no more.
"I regret more never coming home, never showing you how much I'd grown, how much I'd found!"
Cyre is gone. Where there was once a man, there is a turbulent vortex of wind and power. It gives way in an instant to something greater than man or beast. The raw presence is undeniable as it emerges from its chrysalis. "I regret the jealousy, the hate, the cowardice! But I cannot regret what I have found because of them!" A great white beast, its stripes jagged and dark, with eddies of emerald wind forming magnificent mandalas over its limbs and back. "Leon, I can never go back on what I have done," Cyre, the Nahual of Fengalon growls as he tears the lion from his shouler. He draws back a claw wrought from the stuff of storms... and swings. "I can never ask forgiveness, nor do I wish to." The shockwaves dig deep furroughs into the earth, cleaving at the corrupted lion and its legion and announcing to all of Wehaca just what has happened.
The prodigal son has returned.
A Nahual still stands.
"I will bring you back. We will meet again, and I will show you all that your brother has become!"
GS: Cyre H. Lorentz used Mystic on Cyre H. Lorentz! 100 Temporary HP gained! All statuses cleared! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has activated a Force Action!
DC: Cyre H. Lorentz switches forms to Nahual - Fengalon!
GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has attacked Sword Dancer with Gale Claw! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has completed his action. GS: Rosaline Calice heals Ida Everstead-Rey! She gains 100 temporary hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Cecilia Adlehyde has posed.
The power of Grudiev crashes across the Sword Dancer, blasting at it with Earthly magic. It responds in exactly the way she should expect, but doesn't know enough to; it blasts her with raw, unbelievable darkness.
She digs her staff in, pulsing light resisting the worst of the surge and slowly withering to one knee against the force.
She remembers the temple. The Guardian spirit within, drawing that horrible vision. A thousand reasons she shouldn't be here and none that she should. What is a silly little fool doing so far from home...?
But she remembers Grudiev's voice, exhausted even as he spoke. The anger of the sky; the sorrow of the wind. Claude offering her his jacket as he lay in his sick bed. Jack, here - Emma, too.
She failed this test before. But this is a less immaculately constructed attack, and what finally rips free of the Malevolence is not a weeping, broken woman, but a forking rake of lightning, joining with Jay's invocation to scrawl power across the Sword Dancer's hide. "I have not...failed yet!" Cecilia dares to hiss, forcing herself to her feet.
GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has attacked Sword Dancer with Spark! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Cyre H. Lorentz's Gale Claw for 139 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Cecilia Adlehyde's Spark for 55 hit points! GS: Disrupt! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer!
<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.
Drag the soil of this world over your marrowless bones, Corwynt commanded the creature, and it turns his words upon him. The broken land of Filgaia opens wide to swallows the Storm First, and he plummets down into darkness. Snarling, the little man calls on the Blessing in his body, seeking to lift himself up upon wings of wind. But the fire comes first - like an ebon cesspool set alight. Corwynt snarls with fury, fighting against the flame, spitting as though trying to rid his mouth of the taste of it. But it's not a taste upon his tongue, but rather a taint of spirit. Malevolence, it is named. Calamity. Destruction. It swells to overflow the ghyll.
But then he is bathed in descending light.
Blue, white, and gold carve their way down through the heavens, enveloping the young woman with a pair of knives, enveloping the Seraphim beside her. The Storm Fist - his eyes wide and mouth agape - falls to his knees as the darkness around him vanishes, burned away by the light of Armatization. Corwynt has met the Shepherd and some of the Holy Seraphim before. But he has not seen their power wielded together before now. Tears slide down the cheeks of the stocky little man as he weeps openly, unashamed, as he beholds one of the chosen servants of his Goddess. His eyes remain fixed on Rose even as she fires, a droplet of water spraying backward, landing upon his lips. He touches it with shivering fingers. He tastes it, and looks back up.
"Beautiful," he whispers. And then he begins to rise.
Green-white energy surrounds the man called the Storm Fist, and he roars at the top of his lungs, the winds carrying his exultation up to the heavens and, he hopes, the goddess he serves. His power is a poor cousin next to that of Althena's, wielded in human hands, but it comes from the same source. And if his doom this day is to act as the herald for a truer servant than he, then it is a duty he will take up like any other.
"SEE YOU NOW!" he roars, turning and casting his arms wide, the gesture encompassing the Sword Dancer, the Hellions, even the defenders of this world. "You embattled champions, diverse companions, monsters and heroes alike! You squabble over the dregs of a dolven, dying world, and for what?" he asks. "That you may crown yourself king of the ashes? Queen of the corpses? You fight, and you struggle, when your salvation would come to you if you just KNEEL!" He points at Rose, winds swirling around his body, carrying his still-shedding tears into the winds of the gathering storm. "See her now, and know she holds but a FRACTION of Althena's grace, her mercy! She has come to give you succor and liberation! And through the one we serve, even this dying world may live again! PRAISE BE HER NAME!"
Corwynt stalks forward, pouring his power into swirling winds that surround Rose, heeding her speed and strength. "I am with you, Esquire," he says, his voice and eyes exultant. "In her name."
GS: Corwynt has attacked Rose with Empowering Breath! GS: Corwynt takes 8 damage from Poison! GS: Corwynt has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.
Fei Fong Wong gives up on humanity a lot so maybe he doesn't have much place talking, but something within him always keeps insisting that he try again. That he 'lives' in a sense, always that small little bit of hope. Hope lies in both sides of his psyche, fuels them both, but in a place like this he feels like a ticking time bomb. Maybe he is one. He doesn't have to look at Ida to feel how she feels. There's a deep dissonance all around here. It flickers ever briefly inside his mind before something bites into it and through digestion transforms it into something else. He wants to get stronger. The plague isn't the same, but it's similar, and there's sympathetic vibrations pulsing through his brainmeats. Lethargy and sloth are more than just being tired and lazy, it's about a depleted reservoir of caring, losing the ability to empathize because there is too much pain. There are many deadly sins, and Sloth is one of the most insidious of all. Fei can accept it or refuse it but the result is the same.
Black energy gurgles into Fei. Feed the beast. Keep feeding the beast, feed the beast damn you. Fei doesn't get angry. That's the secret, he's always angry. Not enough, yet, not enough of his blood is spilling on the floor.
Fei doesn't have the ability to purify. If anything he's the opposite.
Xantia is struck by lightning. Fei nearly startles out of his thoughts but it just seems to be ... good lightning?
Fei looks into Xantia's eyes. "R..right..." He says to her.
And he resists.
But the cage is a strange thing. The stronger steel you use, the stronger the beast's claws become. It's a strange thing.
But for the moment, Fei has resolve, and that means instead of collapsing he can hit the enemy more. So there's that. He dives back in again, striking rapidly with his fists, his lips pressed firmly and resolute. His eyes have a faint yellow twinge about them.
They think it's just something that you can fight against, but it's you. Doesn't it piss you off they can just go around making people feel bad and think they won't catch some backlash?
FEI PSYCHO 98
GS: Fei Fong Wong has attacked Sword Dancer with Hagan! GS: Fei Fong Wong takes 7 damage from Poison! GS: Fei Fong Wong has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
Everything seems far away now. Ida still sees the battle around her--the swarming hordes of Hellions, the glow she recognizes as Laevatienn, people who may or may not still care about her fighting for their lives. It doesn't matter.
You're a redundancy.
Nothing you do matters.
None of it matters. Give up.
Give up.
Just rest.
'Is this all you have, then? No. Push harder.'
Ida moves. Her gauntleted hand inches towards the edge of the blade, trembling the entire time. She grips the weapon. Rosaline rushes at her out of the corner of her eye, and stands beside her. Ida tries to say something, but the blade's sapping the lifeforce from her.
Were you going to tell her you're okay? You're not okay. Nothing is okay. None of this is okay now just shut up and stay down in the mud where you belong.
There's still no blood. This is not a normal sword. This is made all the more evident as Ida's grip tightens, along with every muscle in her body, or so it feels.
'N-now here comes the more delicate part.'
Ida does nothing of the sort. She shoves with all her strength, her eyes widening, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks, every mote of her chi focused on getting the cursed weapon out of her. It does not cut her, but it feels like it does as it clears her shoulder. Malevolence sprays out behind her in slimy purple gobbets.
Are you going to be the toy of your feelings? The toy of those stronger than you? Are you a toy, Ida, or are you a true human? SHOW ME!
Ida grabs the edge of the weapon again, and shoves downwards with all her strength, trying to bury the massive blade in the mud, and cut off the flow of Hellions--and possibly literally cut some of the Hellions. She braces against the weapon's hilt and then vaults up onto its forearm, draws back her right fist. The joints in her gauntler creak as she clenches a fist.
She strikes like lightning. Her fist crashes down into the Sword Dancer's forearm like a pile-driver, backed by all the rage and pain Ida can muster. Golden motes of light flicker up around her.
GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has attacked Sword Dancer with Steel-Breaking Fist! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
"Human, animal, whatever you like," mutters Noeline towards Dva as her scythe carves another pair of Hellions and launches them into the air, her twintails dancing behind her as she follows up with a spinning slash that carves them in two. The edge of her scythe hums with a black light, the power of Duras Drum flowing more freely through her. ... hiding it from the Ebony Wing members is a bit pointless by now, after all. "More than anything, they are those who fell into despair. ... bear that in mind," she adds a little more softly, and with a light huff. "We nearly lost you in a very similar way, after all."
"But, you know-- I believe I'm starting to figure it out," she adds. By rights, the statement should be quiet, lost in the din of the fight - lost in the din of the Malevolence rippling towards her, tearing through the intervening space as the Sword Dancer ripples the very air around them into a searing purple wave. Instead, her voice is full of verve, a fanged grin growing on her face as the Guardian's power begins to focus further along her scythe. She'll pay for this later, she's sure, but right at the moment it's easy to follow the rush of it, let herself roll with the flow of it all.
"You wish to test us. You wish for us to recognize the futility of this world?" she challenges, and cleaves the crimson weapon downwards in a roaring strike, the sheer force of it blasting the shockwave apart to either side of her. Her eyes dance as she straightens back up, letting out a breath of exertion but otherwise unharmed. Her voice rings with defiant glee. "--with the greatest of respect, Trial Knight, screw your idea of 'futility'. I've watched humans save statue after statue. I've watched my own kind learn and grow. The future might not be rosy, but it's far from bleak, and hearing otherwise is getting ridiculous."
She abruptly sweeps forwards, letting the battle take her again; this time, she's working her way towards the Sword Dancer, though in a complicated dance that sends her straight through the worst of the horde - as if to act as a magnet and beacon for the ravening monsters, in place of the villagers. Some of them are swept away by her blade or the corona of black flame that flickers around her; others are scattered backwards by peppering bursts of light from her ARM pods, floating around her shoulders like little bodyguards. When the press becomes too thick to carry forwards, she launches upwards instead, using Strife as a stepping stone to crash down in a somersaulting strike before immediately darting onwards, always on the move.
... it might not be the most appropriate time, but there's a confidence to her movements that wasn't there before, as if the Ebony Wings' declaration of intent - and the way it blew away any last deception around Wayside - has freed her from some longstanding worries. "--how many more?!" she calls to the other Wings, risking a glance for any further villagers.
GS: Noeline has attacked Sword Dancer with Cutting Words! GS: Noeline has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Fei Fong Wong's Hagan for 50 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ida Everstead-Rey's Steel-Breaking Fist for 78 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Noeline's Cutting Words for 160 hit points! GS: Cripple! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer!
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"I'll tell you whatever I can. What I can give you right now," Emma answers Cecilia as a streaking packet of light reaches the Emulator and updates her, "is that its attack is coming forth in an entirely physical way - oh, sh-"
Flame erupts beneath her even as she throws herself to the side, tumbling in an undignified way on the shattering stone of this town as the fury whirls above her, like smoke and fumes in a burning house. Emma pushes herself upright, feeling the pain a gangster gave her in her right arm as she does.
Her eyes flick to the Emulator. It flashes cheerfully at her: PROCESSING... PROCESSING...
Emma adjusts her glasses and frowns. That's new. And disquieting. She saw it flash once or twice when she had just gotten that data off of... Kalve, she thinks. This is taking longer. Either way she slides the potentially-invincible ARM into her coat pocket and wishes fervently that she were not forced to this clutch.
Because, Emma thinks as she reaches into the other side of her coat and rises to a crouch, she didn't have the chance to prepare everything. The Punchy Gun, currently without a Punch on the front, is raised up, sighted along, and fired -
In hindsight this makes it a sort of "blunt metal slug with attached cable" gun, but Emma knows in her heart that this is less effective. The Emma Motor does not care, and with a SHUNK and surprisingly little fanfare otherwise, the weighty piece of iron is hurled at the Sword Dancer.
GS: Emma Hetfield has attacked Sword Dancer with Get Wild And Tough! GS: Emma Hetfield has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.
'We'll do what needs to be done.'
...No matter the cost?
And then there is no time to think, only to engage. To hope that this is enough to tip the scales and push back against despair, what should be definite failure.
Gwen is struck. "Gwen. Are you alright?"
Avril could have struck the Sword Dancer again in that instant, as it seemingly shrinks before her and whimpers.
Perhaps she should have.
She doesn't.
...cold...
Avril alights upon sodden corrupted soil.
Her blade is held before her, point directed towards the heavens above. Despite the injury she has sustained, here, it seems, she stands fast.
"...This is the way of the world. I see," the woman murmurs, gaze hooded.
There is no mercy that exists in nature. There is no need to hold back, to do anything save what must be done. Isn't that right?
"I understand what you say, but I must offer a counterpoint," Avril states, taking but one step across what was once a well-trodden village path. "As you have suggested, mercy is not a thing that can be found in this world. If I were to measure the contents of the sea, I would not find mercy there. Nevertheless, it is within our capacity as people to grant mercy."
please... someone...
Chaos rampages around her. Screams -- rage, terror, pain, determination -- ring out. And yet, there she stands, as oddly supernally calm as a carved statue herself. Even as the Sword Dancer rises, raises its blade.
"We have the power to create what does not exist."
can't... feel... anything anymore...
Perhaps she should not have stayed her hand. What is not dead, after all--
i don't want to be alone--
From the unknown sea of the unconsciousness, the shadow lurking in the abyss breaks the surface. Avril stiffens, blue eyes widening as if on the receiving end of a shock.
It's an interesting fact that it's a few seconds after this happens that the arc of dark energy passes right through her, sending her staggering backwards with a sudden cry.
it's cold...
Free hand pressed against her chest she rights herself soon after, her gaze tilted downwards. One breath. Two.
Sidelong, she glances at Fei.
And before it can think to strike at her again, she ducks backwards as if to evade an incoming strike, blade raised in a guard.
It's a lie.
She dips the sword down as she surges ahead, aiming for whatever critical point she can reach.
GS: Avril Vent Fleur has attacked Sword Dancer with Empty Fade! GS: Avril Vent Fleur has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Ryudo has posed.
Footing is something that Ryudo was simply never intended to have in this battle. While the principle of advancing under a suppressing barrage of electricity was sound, what he was most certainly not counting on was the ground beneath him hungering for a taste of Geohound. His instinct is brace his legs against either side of the pit, but now that the morass concealed beneath the turf is revealed the stability of the surrounding earth is all more tenuous. "Shit!" Ryudo swears that the ground lining the pit is crumbling away in *anticipation* of his extended boots as he helplessly vanishes from the sight of those surrounding him. A flicker of motion can be seen darting into the pit at the last moment...
And the Geohound emerges moments later, hauled out of the deadfall by the hawk Skye. Tainted purple slime yet drips from his legs as the two touch down, but the Geohound is apparently safe for the moment. Skye wheels toward the fallen Sword Dancer before setting Ryudo down once more. "While you were busy trying out graves, Lady Ida struck an exemplary blow! Now is our chance to--"
Way to jinx it, bird.
When the Sword Dancer lurches to its feet and impales Ida upon its blade, Ryudo's jaw aches with the force of his teeth grinding against each other. Curse it all! "Skye. I need a net, now!" "You know that takes time!" "Then hurry your feathered ass up while I play the distraction!" Wheeling in midair, the hawk pumps its wings and begins to ascend high into the air. Apparently there is some sort of long term strategy afoot here, but damned if the interplay makes sense to anyone trying to listen in on it.
This leaves Ryudo with an extremely Angry Sword dancer on his hands and no bird to haul him out of trouble. While his first instinct was to see to Ida, she demonstrates a rage that seems capable of handling its own. Rather than exercise unnecessary creativity, Ryudo swings the bastard sword in a wide spiral to gain momentum before leaping into the air and slamming the blade down on top of the arm that grips the pinned blade. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."
GS: Ryudo has attacked Sword Dancer with Severance! GS: Ryudo has completed his action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Emma Hetfield's Get Wild And Tough for 43 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Avril Vent Fleur's Empty Fade for 46 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ryudo's Severance for 44 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Dean's not the only one affected by the Sword Dancer's general demeanor. It's... hurt. Sick. Acting like an animal afflicted with rabies, lashing out at whatever gets near. It's almost heartbreaking, like seeing a screaming horse struggling to stand upright on a shattered leg.
Gwen makes an habitual calling sound, like she was calling to that very horse. "Time to put you dow. There, now-" The skeletal dancer flings a cone of black energy at the nearby Avril and Fei, the outside limits of the attack falling right against the shield formed by the Mockingbird. The uneven impact throws Gwen off balance, throwing her against the ground. "Gh... ow..." The pain provides a nice counterbalance against the frigid hopelessness that threatens to soak into her bones just then.
Avril asks if she's alright. "Y-yeah. Just got unlucky there. You okay too?"
But it's not enough to counter the Trial Knight's own words. "This ain't the only way the world can be," she murmurs to herself, like a reassurance. "There's beauty in this world too. Just... not the sort everyone is able to see." The sort that exist, regardless of whether someone is there to perceive them or not.
'We have the power to create what does not exist.' "Avril..." Gwen stands back up, her voice raising so that K.K., if he's still listening. "Things like kindness... and mercy..." The way she's automatically loading her ARM paints a contradictory image, but she continues, nonetheless. "We'll create them. N' if you aren't willin' to be merciful, then..."
She points her ARM towards the Sword Dancer. "I'll force your hand down until you find those things inside you." Her muscles tighten, just about to fire.
It happens too quickly for Gwen to react. "IDA!" Gwen cries out, tearing her attention away. "Hold on, we'll..." She trails off as Ida... gets back up. "You're... okay..." How could someone come back from an injury like that?
Could they, from will alone?
"We can do this!" Trailing after Ida passes, golden motes swirling in the air, Gwen launches her fist into the Sword Dancer's body. "It won't be long, now- you'll be able to rest soon!"
.... Gwen really shouldn't be here.
GS: Gwen Whitlock has attacked Sword Dancer with Special Delivery! GS: Gwen Whitlock has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Gwen Whitlock's Special Delivery for 118 hit points! GS: Rose takes a solid hit from Corwynt's Empowering Breath for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper and Quick! Statuses applied to Rose!
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
There is strain there. Spiritual and physical. Fissures split golden skin to pulse discordant blacks and purples throughout the lion's skin, like veins of molten heat sputtering past the earth's surface. The blackness of its eyes cracks and spreads at its corners, as if the Nahual-turned-Hellion were coming apart at the seams.
He doesn't seem to notice. The thing once Leon Lorentz does not seem to notice much, in the throes of its hopeless agony. He sees Cyre. He only sees Cyre.
And within the bestial haze, the Malevolence-warped glare that he affixes the prodigal son seems to blame him for all that has happened.
Foolish. The light grows as fangs drag down into the flesh of Cyre's shoulder. As a hand grips at his mane. Foolish. Gravity weighs him down, pins him in place, makes it impossible for him to gain ground, to flee. He grips harder, like he were trying to just -crush- Cyre in his fury.
"Foolish," he snarls, a barely cogent, echoed thought, mired in multiple tones layered in rage and despair. His breath huffs out in black vapors against the humidity and cold of the sky. His right, clawed hand slowly lifts.
But before he can land his blow, that light consumes them both. And from it, the Tiger emerges, growling and ripping the Hellion Nahual of Noua Shax from his wounded flesh. That claw swings -- and the shockwave RIPS through, launching the Lion through the air -- blowing back the Hellions behind it in sundering wind.
Down falls what was once Leon, rebounding and skidding across muddied earth in entrenched, mucky furrows. For a moment, he seems to linger there. I can never ask forgiveness. I will bring you back. We will meet again.
"... Foolish... please..."
A cogent plea amidst a haze of helplessness. And then rage reasserts itself. The fallen Nahual faces the last Nahual standing. And the twisted storm answers its purer reflection as the Golden Lion hurls himself forward towards Catenna and Cyre both, SLAMMING fists into the muck-riddled earth...
... and igniting everything within a field of sickly plasma that sings its ionized song of despair through the very particles of the air itself.
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
They speak. They utter defiance. But it seems words alone will not sway the Trial Knight. Undaunted, they stand above like an arbiter beyond these affairs. It almost seems perfectly designed to spite, to infuriate. Standing on high. Untouched. Untouchable. Arms at rest at their sides as they watch like the statue that once occupied these ruined halls. Their head tilts as thick rain droplets accumulate and fall off the tips of their horns. As Xantia stands. As Avril provides that polite counterpoint. As it inspires Gwen to lay out her own promise.
"... What you seek cannot be," they say, at the end of Gwen's bold proclamation. "Just as there are the merciful, there must ever be the merciless. One cannot exist without the other. Ever will you struggle. Ever will you hold a hand that continues to snap upon yours. Are such fleeting things truly worth such struggle? How will you be different from those who came before you, and scarred this land with the depths of their mercy?"
They can never win as long as we're here to show them that nothing they do will ever make us give up hope.
Those words seem to effortlessly preface the dawning of Rose's Armatization, a fusion of water and Althena's blessing and man. They watch as it overtakes Rose, unflinching. Their fingers twitch inwards towards their palms.
"... mm."
And so the Trial Knight falls silent. And watches, as the Sword Dancer lurches over Ida Everstead-Rey. Watches, as she struggles against it. Waiting.
Expecting.
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
The Sword Dancer seems a being of pure instinct. Or something even purer, lesser. Nothing but a single, raw emotion that seeps off it in waves, as if only allowed to express a fraction of what it is -- only allowed to be forged of a single facet of man. There is no enjoyment, nor relishment, as it impales Ida on the tip of the freshly-freed Black Blade. It just lurches over her, hunched, staring with vacant, empty eyes, as if it could see within her to the wealth of despair through that blade. Reach out and touch it. Stir it. Help her to remember. To realize. She is fighting against nature. Against human nature. What hope has she of that? The massive body groans as it bends closer.
What hope? None. None, Ida Everstead-Rey. Drown with the Dancer. It's better here. And aren't you so very tired--
KRA-KOOM
Water and light COLLIDES with the Hellion just as it seems like it might simply absorb Ida into its own mire. The arrow of the Armatus drives through blackened bone with a sickening crunch, the deluge of purifying liquid searing off chunks of Malevolence as it releases a weary groan and stumbles backwards, sllch sllch sllching through the muck of the rain-soaked lands. That moment gives Ida the window of opportunity she needs to free herself, tearing the blade -free- with a gout of Malevolence. She lands upon the Dancer, drives her fist down into forearm in a cracking splinter of bone.
There is no doubt a visceral satisfaction in watching bone break into seeping vapors of Malevolence that fill her nostrils with their temptingly dissonant stench, reminding her of the satisfaction of retribution--
--before the third arm carrying that lion's blade cleaves down with sudden ferocity with every intent to behead her if she cannot move fast enough.
And at the apex of that swing? Something within the Sword Dancer stirs. Purple light shimmers, crackles.
And lightning, impure and heretical like a twisted mockery of the statue within it, lances off that blade in a powerful bolt that screams through the skies for Rose, infused with nothing less than absolute nothingness.
The Dancer moves anew. Its attentions drift. Drift towards Corwynt, praising Althena, praising the Shepherd's Squire. Its head tilts, as if trying to understand. And slowly, it trundles. Makes its way towards him. Reaches out--
--to impale him quietly, serenely, on the edge of that rusted katana, as if to try to understand him and his words through skewering him on the point of its rusted existence.
To know, and be known, through the whispers of futility that seek to fleck off in his soul.
The rusted blade will seek to rip free seconds later. Seconds later... where Dean shouts, and drives that powerful jolt of elemental wind through the Dancer. A shattered piece of femur is ripped free from it as it stumbles forward, ground shuddering beneath its every step. It hits the earth on hands and knees, pinned down just long enough for Ethius' gout of sand to -slam- into its injured wrist. The bone snaps. The hand falls, hanging limp as if on a thread.
Which makes it all the more unnatural when it -plunges- that blade into the earth in a tremulous shockwave of black pitch that screams at the senses as it seeks to consume Dean, Ethius... and the approaching Fei and Avril. The feint of Avril's blade is just enough to drive through the creature's spine, the blows of Fei almost enough to nearly snap the thing in that fractured wound Avril creates -- but the blackness seeks to consume them, second before they can manage. And so it rises. And so it turns, slowly, meekly, as if forced to, looking like all it wants to do is rest as it turns its baleful stare upon Rosaline, upon Xantia. And for as slow as it turns towards them...
... the next movements are improbably fast for something so large, so injured, as it -blitzes- across the Wehacan grounds in a spray of delirious swap water, blitzing with Solarian and Lion blades to carve into both of them at once in a beautifully bizarre spinning flourish, landing just behind Xantia... and sagging moments later within its depressive drag once more.
Tired... hopeless... rusted...
Two of its hands now injured thanks to Ethius and Jack's earlier, spiteful counter, it turns its attention towards the man who had so injured it. It stares at him like a kindred soul, empty and tired and yet... almost -angry- now, reflecting something it sees, something it wants, as its blade rises.
As that black blade rises.
And swings, issuing a gout of black hate across the earth, spiraling straight for the former Fenrir Knight.
You will never get them back... too weak... too small...
That blackness travels on, even past Jack -- further still towards Emma as that chunk of iron SMASHES into the skull of the Dancer, sending it snapping backwards. It cracks, it caves -- and through the fissuring slivers, pieces of that crumbling statue can be seen. Slowly unwinding at the seems.
Perhaps it is that, that lets Jay reach out. Perhaps something else. But as she calls -- something responds to her. Lightning crackles, and that bolt seems to RESOUND all the more furiously throughout the Dancer's body than it might have otherwise, breaking apart chunks of calcified Malevolence as smoke rises off its moisture-evaporated frame. It lurches, groans...
... and then -spins- bodily through the air like a dervish for a brief, delirious seconds, looking to churn a deadly whirlwind of blades through the defiant alchemist.
Cecilia joins the electric chorus, and the jolt adds on to the charge lingering in statue and Dancer, RIPPING defiantly through skeletal tissue in violent electrical arcs. The Dancer spasms... which sets it up perfectly for Gwen and her direct, physical attack, the punch CRACKING through electrified sternum as it bends backwards in something approaching a strange approximation of a limp, backwards sag. Like a doll pushed too hard in one direction.
... failed... down... rest... no kindness...
Its topmost arms lift, rusted blade and black blade in hand. They both plunge into the ground.
... and it is a rusted edge that shrieks from the earth beneath Cecilia and Gwen to impale them upon its impossibly sharp edge for something so dull and rusted. As all the while, the statue chips away within, eroding slowly as cracklines of violet sink deeper into the surface.
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
The civilians are making good time, so far, thanks to the efforts of the others, and Riesenlied's Ebon Wings. Though some are difficult to break out of their lethargy, many others are quick to follow the demon's guidance. Some, who know what Riesenlied and her kind are, are difficult to persuade, viewing them with suspicion, derision, some even refusing to comply.
But survival makes a very persuasive argument, and by the time the Sword Dancer's blades plunge, at least half of Wehaca's villagers have been evacuated. Riesenlied's empathy reaches out, dissuading beasts, turning them aside, making the Malevolence in them tremble and twist for a few, nauseatingly precious seconds...
... which is exactly when a rusted blade BLOWS out of the ground beneath her, screaming into her heart at how pointless all this truly is as it seeks to impale her like a butterfly on a pin.
And for Noeline, as she speaks her words of defiance, of how bad things aren't -- she receives no response from the Trial Knight, and yet, they seem not to be ignoring her, either. Perhaps she has a point.
Or perhaps, also, the Dancer seeks to answer her, as a facsimile of the Black Blade hisses slowly from the earth, flying upwards to impale the Demon. Not through flesh and bone.
But through soul. Through heart. Through will.
Suppurating the soul upon a feast of futility.
GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Kourin with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ida Everstead-Rey with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Jacqueline Barber with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ryudo with Nightmare Instant! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Jack Van Burace with Demon Fang! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Emma Hetfield with Demon Fang! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Dean Stark with Demon Roar! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ethius Hesiod with Demon Roar! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Avril Vent Fleur with Demon Roar! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Fei Fong Wong with Demon Roar! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rosaline Calice with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Xantia with The Second Dance! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Riesenlied with Rusted Blade! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Corwynt with Rusted Blade! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Cecilia Adlehyde with Rusted Blade! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Gwen Whitlock with Rusted Blade! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Catenna with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Cyre H. Lorentz with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rose with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Noeline with Despair! GS: Sneak! The true nature of Sword Dancer's attack becomes clear! GS: Riesenlied takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Rusted Blade for 180 hit points! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 91 hit points! GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Dispellado with Malevolent Tide! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Catenna takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 93 hit points! GS: Sneak! The true nature of Sword Dancer's attack becomes clear! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Rusted Blade for 36 hit points!
DC: MISS! Jack Van Burace completely evades Demon Fang from Sword Dancer!
GS: Fei Fong Wong guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Roar for 52 hit points! GS: Sneak! The true nature of Sword Dancer's attack becomes clear! GS: Gwen Whitlock takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Rusted Blade for 187 hit points! GS: Emma Hetfield takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Fang for 54 hit points! GS: Gwen Whitlock used the Force Action Protect! She takes Hellion Horde's attack on Dispellado on herself! GS: Gwen Whitlock has activated a Force Action! GS: Rose guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 105 hit points! GS: Sneak! The true nature of Sword Dancer's attack becomes clear! GS: Corwynt takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Rusted Blade for 91 hit points! GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Dispellado with Malevolent Swarm! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Fei Fong Wong used the Force Action Protect! He takes Hellion Horde's attack on Dispellado on himself! GS: Fei Fong Wong has activated a Force Action! GS: Gwen Whitlock takes a solid hit from Hellion Horde's Malevolent Tide for 138 hit points! GS: Hellion Horde drains Gwen Whitlock! Hellion Horde gains 138 temporary hit points! GS: Sneak! The true nature of Hellion Horde's attack becomes clear! GS: Fei Fong Wong takes a solid hit from Hellion Horde's Malevolent Swarm for 167 hit points! GS: Hellion Horde enters CONDITION GREEN!! GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Dispellado with Pestilence! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Rose used the Force Action Protect! She takes Hellion Horde's attack on Dispellado on herself! GS: Rose has activated a Force Action! GS: Rose takes a glancing hit from Hellion Horde's Pestilence for 120 hit points! GS: Noeline has activated a Force Action!
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
Current Round: 3/4
GS: Noeline takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Despair for 400 hit points! GS: Jacqueline Barber critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Nightmare Instant for 25 hit points!
DC: MISS! Avril Vent Fleur completely evades Demon Roar from Sword Dancer!
GS: Rosaline Calice takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 121 hit points! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Nightmare Instant for 72 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Dean Stark takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Roar for 130 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Dean Stark! GS: Ethius Hesiod guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Demon Roar for 45 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Xantia takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's The Second Dance for 93 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Xantia! GS: Ryudo critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Nightmare Instant for 31 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.
Even as she fights to hold her spell... Catenna listens to what Cyre says to his brother.
She bites down to her lower lip. Struggles to keep a memory from surfacing.
ha ha! what did *you* tame, catenna?
a-an... owl....
ahahahaha! a baby owl?! what a loser! any loser could tame a baby owl! look at me! i tamed a dire wolf without even trying!
i tamed a hobgoblin! look, he brings me cool stuff! what does yours bring you, dead mice?!
why does mom even treat you like her favourite, anyway? you're the worst!
yeah, you can't even tame something dangerous! all of *us* did!
i-i'm sorry... i just can't seem to--
--yeah, because you're the worst sister!
yeah! loser!
loser!
brown-noser!
later, a small zortroan girl curls up under a tree. she clutches a little baby owl to her breast and sobs into its feathers. her long black hair veils her like mourning garb. the little owl looks up at her with worried eyes, but she has already embraced the truth.
i don't deserve to live.
For just a moment, Catenna closes her eyes and pushes the memory down - and lets Cyre's voice ring in her ears. Perhaps now I understand why I feel so close to him. We both know what it is to be chosen for service... and yet, we both know how it feels to always be the inferior one.
Perhaps it was fate that I would love him....
When she opens her eyes again, she gazes with quiet admiration as Cyre swells into the impressively proud form of the Nahual of Fengalon. She keeps her hand leveled, holding the spell on Leon as best she can.
It is difficult. The twisted sibling strains against it - and then pleads with them through that despair. Widening her eyes, Catenna lets her spell go. "Cyre!" she cries out - and then the muddy plain erupts into a singing, sizzling song of ionized horror and misery. The air itself burns around Catenna. Shielding herself with her arms, she forces herself to roll through it, even as dire plasma burns at her arms and face, searing at her armour and superheating it. She lets out a pained cry as she hurtles through the worst of it, trailing little sickly wisps of smoke as she hits the ground on one knee. Her hand sinks into the muck.
With a pained shudder, Catenna pulls herself back to her feet, whirling to check if Cyre is alright.
And to check if Leon is still alive. There was more to him than words.
A plea.
Mustering her magic again, Catenna concentrates her arcana, holding her hands out and circling around to one side. "Serene Moon," she whispers a silent plea as she gathers her magic. "Patient Sea... and all of the spirits of Filgaia... please... if there is a means to make pure this man... this place... I beg of you... help me to find the insight to understand how it can be done...!"
A corner of her mind works feverishly on the problem, trying to figure out how Malevolence must be working upon Leon, and how her magic interacts with it. The rest of her mind is focusing her spell. Gravity manifests behind the twisted leo in a single, irresistable source; the pull of it seeks to wrench Leon from the ground and haul him a few metres into the air, before whipping around to try and brutally slam him into the earth with a single, thundering blow.
It is all she can do to help Cyre. To try and stop Leon Lorentz without killing him.
She hopes she can stop him without killing him. She must.
Somehow... I must be able to find the wisdom to save them....
GS: Catenna has attacked Sword Dancer with Heavy Crush! GS: Catenna has been weakened by Disease! They take 0 hit points of damage, and burn off their temporary hit points! GS: Catenna has completed her action. GS: CRITICAL! Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Catenna's Heavy Crush for 172 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.
Are you going to be the toy of your feelings?
FEI PSYCHO 98
Fei glances towards Avril. She's' a good friend. She's suffering. She's in pain. She is having difficulty breathing. She can still move. It's hard to imagine that she is some kind of Veruni Queen, though that's not exactly a thought Fei thinks, it is also a thought Fei thinks. He catches sight of Corwynt out of the corner of his eye. It's hard to miss him, with him shouting like that, even with all of the malevolence going on. He's becoming harder to ignore.
Are you going to be the toy of those stronger than you?
Ida's eyes are pinpricks. Fei feels guilt and joy, but he's not sure why. He looks at the corpses. He sees people he knew among the bodies. He can't let Cyre feel the way he does.
He can't let Cyre feel the way he does every day.
He owes it to Cyre, that he does not feel the way he does every day.
But...
Wouldn't it be a little nice if he did? Just for a little bit? You could finally relate
FEI PSYCHO 99
Malevolence slams into Fei. He tries to push back to strike more. "Stop it...!" He screams at...somebody. "STOP IT!"
He can feel all the pain. He can feel it. The pain of his allies, the pain of his enemies, the pain of the dancer, the pain of Leon, the pain of Cyre. He can't keep it out any longer. The problem with a cage is that it has holes in it. He has been feeding for a long time
He has been saving his strength
And then he sees it. He sees the civilians running. He has to protect them. He can't let it happen again! He runs for it. "Keep at it!" He yells at Xantia, not forgetting her somehow. He leaps before the horde and throws chi at them, blasting them apart. But for every one he blasts to bits, another few get by his guard and strike at him. He looks like he's good for it, but soon he's lost amongst the very horde he's fighting. He's tackled through a hut wall
And then...
Aren't you a true human, Fei?
<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.
FEI PSYCHO 100
A malevolent (lowercase) red light erupts out from within the horde, ripping a fair chunk of it to shreds. Is it a new ally? Is it a new friend?
(BGM INTERRUPT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFQT5qjpusg)
A total asshole walks out from the horde as they fall around him. The one good thing about this is that he doesn't seem to be going for the civilians. Not yet. He has his priorities. He cracks his neck and he looks towards K.K...
...and past him towards Corwynt. Dear sweet Corwynt who ruthlessly thrashed the most beautiful woman in the world.
Dear wonderful Corwynt with his ridiculous disguises, his cruel words, his piercing hateful stares.
Dear beautiful Corwynt who just keeps making noise.
Id raises his hand and chi starts rapidly gathering through his arms. Just like he taught Ida. He laughs hysterically in this moment, full of happiness and joy. "All of this pain, all of this suffering, all of this destruction and death! It's like you WANT me here! I'm the happiest demon alive!!"
He can't stop laughing. He laughs and he laughs even though it's not funny at all.
He glances aside to K.K and says, "You're next. And then well... I'm going to get rid of all this noise. And the best way to get rid of malevolence... is to get rid of the source!"
A red blast of chi energy streaks towards Corwynt without any more warning than that. It moves quickly. It's intense. It shines so brightly. Almost as brilliantly as Id's smile.
Riesenlied gets a wink.
<Pose Tracker> Jack Van Burace has posed.
"Thanks," Jack's voice comes out as a pained growl. He's bleeding from that stab in the side. Not realizing that it goes all the way though to his back, blood spilling down his chest and back, slicking his shirt to his chest as he forces himself up. Forcing himself back to his feet he grips his blade in one hand to stare towards the Sword Dancer.
He can feel it.
The pulsing connection. The hate. The anger.
Its a phsyical thing to his eyes, the thread of power and emotion that arrows towards him. The words crashing against his mind like a physical blow.
'Weak.'
'Useless'
'Powerless'
'Nothing'
He grits his teath against the waves of emotion before he closes his eyes. His breathing stills, his grip on his sword quits its shaking as his other hand comes to curl around the grip.
The wave of blackness comes rolling towards him and he raises his sword above his head. Just before he is rolled over by the shear force of it he slashes forwards with a scream of his own. Channeling all that rage and anger inside him into a counterstroke that crshes outwards. Parting the rolling wave like water around him, sending all of his own hate and anger and fustration flying back in the face of the Dancer.
Give it a taste of its own medicine.
GS: Id has attacked Corwynt with Radiance! GS: Id has completed his action. GS: Jack Van Burace has attacked Sword Dancer with Slash Rave! GS: Jack Van Burace takes 5 damage from Poison! GS: Jack Van Burace has completed his action. GS: Corwynt takes a glancing hit from Id's Radiance for 96 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Kourin takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Nightmare Instant for 126 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Kourin!
<Pose Tracker> Rudy Roughnight has posed.
A thunderous crack rips through the air.
In all the raging attacks, the cries for help, the roars of pain, the declarations of love, hate, pain, and the inner hope of humanity, it would be easy enough to do.
But the single bullet streaks toward the Blade Dancer, the horrid thing that threatens to end so many. It should be powerful, but the ARM round was not meant for such distance, hitting with the power of a regular pistol than the usual assault that the famed weapon is known for. The range of the attack means that it's unclear where it will hit the foe, if it will even hit at all. But over the horizon, illuminated briefly by a peel of lightening, is a silhouette of a long figure, one arm outstretched in front of him as the gun smoke from his Hand Cannon brushes against his face. The boy that fired this round says nothing. But it's not that surprising.
After all, Rudy Roughnight believes in letting his actions speak rather than his words.
In the wake of the attack, Rudy doesn't waste time trying to explain why he wasn't here sooner, ask forgiveness that he was not with his friends and party members when needed. Those things can happen later. Right now, he just sprints toward those that need him, the trailing red of his bandanna flying fervently behind him due nature's fury and the winds of war.
Rudy won't let another massacre happen again. He will never abandon those that need him. Not while he still draws breath.
GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Jack Van Burace's Slash Rave for 64 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin focuses her magic onto the ground. Every bit of energy coalesces, first into frost, then ice, then a colossal ice golem. Its fist slams down on the sword dancer.
<Pose Tracker> Rose has posed.
"Rose, lightning!" Mikleo says.
She doesn't need to be told twice.
The Sword Dancer's terrible lightning screams through the air, as Rose raises the bow forward like it's a shield. She fires into the lightning, a bolt of blue managing to dampen just enough of the punishment that she isn't throw off her feet when the arcs hit her. She's just shocked, rather badly, and then --
Her heart tightens, like it's caught in a vise.
"W-What IS that," she groans.
xterm39,"Malevolence. That'll happen everytime you hit it. It's the Shepherd's duty to shoulder others' burdens. That's what Lailah said anyway. You're shouldering whatever Malevolence you chip away from it. It was... pretty rough on Sorey, at first.") the Seraph explains.
"It's... awful, yeah. But, I can't just..." turn her back. She never could. Not when there's someone supporting her, too - Corwynt's words and his contributions haven't gone unnoticed at all. Speed and power. Rose puts it to good use immediatly. She sees the villagers fleeing. She zips to their rescue, getting in the Hellions' path. Taking blows meant for others. Flinching, when she counterattacks and leaves an errant man or animal purified.
She looks exhausted and beaten already.
"Rose, are you sure you can keep this up?" Mikleo asks, concerned.
"Yeah! Don't worry. I'm... I'm fine. This is nothing."
It's a lie. An obvious, fat lie.
She wants to go help Cyre. She wants to go help Ida. She wants to help the villagers. She wants to send that massive Hellion back into the ground. She wants to punch K.K. square in the jaw. Sadly, she can't be everywhere at once.
She even noticed what Cyre did, and hasn't had time to stare or comment in the midst of everything going wrong.
"Come on, the sooner that thing falls the sooner we can solve every OTHER problem!" Together, then: "SAINT'S ARROW!"
A single, brilliant spear of blue and white light heads straight for the Sword Dancer's chest. Less an arrow and more a ballista bolt than anything.
Then there's red light. Who IS that?
Why are they attacking Corwynt?!
GS: Rose has attacked Sword Dancer with Saint's Arrow! GS: Rose has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied cups her mouth as she gazes upon the sight of the Sword Dancer plunging its blade to Ida. For a moment, her hand twists closer around the hilt of her thin sword, as she grimaces--
Did Ida just die? I can't see. You never let me see things.
The frozen corpse twirls her nigh-rotten finger around her frost-caked hair, her lips coiling into a grin as she looks up towards the nigh-endless ceiling. But then she pauses, her eyes widening just for a little moment.
Id. Id? Did you just come out? God I'm bored. Riesenlied is being boring, I wish I could flip out and take over like you.
--and shakes her head as she raises her hand to her head; the suspicious and wary looks that she gets from some of the villagers disheartens her, but she's relieved when they still turn towards the Dragons to evacuate. Where she thinks she's found purchase with the Hellions, though, she is distracted for that few precious few moments as her eyes widen when that red light erupts from within the horde...
...where Fei once stood...
Stands Id. Id... the one who claimed the Tainted's first home, Old Petra. Id... who nearly did the same to Wayside -- yet somehow, they were able to forge some kind of... uneasy understanding. She still does not know--
--and that distraction and finds herself impaled on a rusted blade, which races through the ground and tears out to spear her out through the air.
"Agh--!!"
Oop-- no, no, nevermind, Id, you do you, this just got very interesting. Thank you! speaks Nasrin to no one physical in particular as she sits back down on her frozen chair, incredibly pleased.
"Riese!" Dva shouts from where she's wrestling one of the rat-shaped Hellions, shoving its arm away and sending a swift horse kick in its direction. "Damnit, why're you so stab-prone?! Geez, act like a leader for once!"
GS: Rudy Roughnight has attacked Sword Dancer with So It Begins! GS: Rudy Roughnight has completed his action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Rudy Roughnight's So It Begins for 26 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Rose's Saint's Arrow for 59 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.
In the midst of it all, Rose transforms. Jacqueline's eyes turn toward her, amazed. She had seen her fellow merchant fight before, but not like this. It was...beautiful. She finds herself momentarily distracted...
Of course Corwynt has to go and ruin that.
Kneel? Yes, kneel - and get her head removed by the enemy before her for her efforts. This wasn't the time for that kind of talk. She puts that aside and focuses on the battle.
And when she makes that plea, she feels something respond. Was it Noua Shax? Or something else? Whatever it is...it was helping. Helping her. Keeping the Crest of Lightning firmly in hand, Jacqueline draws out another Crest Graph, familiar to those who have worked alongside her.
The Sword Dancer lurches, groans, and spins dangerously through the air toward her.
Jacqueline doesn't flinch.
The Crest Graph in her hand shines as it is invoked, a pillar of earth hurtling violently out of the ground to meet the skeletal blade wielder before it reaches her, to crash into it with the force of both its momentum and the Sword Dancer's.
Nearby, someone or something attacks Corwynt with a burst of red light...but she doesn't see who. It's too chaotic, there are too many people around...
But somewhere, somehow, she gets the feeling things are about to get a whole lot worse.
<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.
Dean pauses, hearing Corwynt yelling something about succor and Althena and he's pointing at Rose? Dean looks at Rose. Having not a whit of Resonance, she looks like regular ol' Rose to him. He shakes his head like a dog whipping off water. "Augh, I don't have time to be confused!!" Seriously, though, can't these people talk in a way that makes sense?!
Like Avril! Every word *she* says makes perfect sense to him! "She's right!" he calls, gesturing towards his friend. K.K. speaks: 'Could such fleeting things truly be worth the struggle?' "Of course they are!! I don't know what you think is so futile and meaningless, but I *do* know that we don't need a reason to be nice to people! I know that when we work together, we're stronger than we could ever be apart! And I'll prove it!!" He holds up the Stone Medium that he earned at the Guardian Temple, emblazoned with the insignia of the Fire Guardian. "Moor Gault! Everybody! Let's give everything we've got!" he calls. "Material - Blazing True Hearts!!"
The flame bird sears into existence, its piercing cry reverberating through the storm as it soars over the battlefield, embers falling from its feathers and drifting down. Those it touches--Cyre, Cecilia, Rosaline, and Riesenlied--strengthens them, fills them with vigor and courage and the will to fight.
Yet at the same time, as if specifically to refute Dean, Fei makes it clear what it is that he meant by "losing control." He's knocked into a hut by Hellions, and then a red light ERUPTS, and out stalks... Dean gawks at Id. Isn't that the guy who was a big jerk over at Wayside? Is this person... Fei? Out of control?! At the very least, he's definitely going over to that Corwynt guy and attacking him--so Dean's next course is clear.
He breaks into a run straight towards Id.
GS: Jacqueline Barber has attacked Sword Dancer with Pillar Crash! GS: Jacqueline Barber takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Jacqueline Barber has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
Ethius draws his spell-slinging hand back, covered in blood as it is, back to his side as he takes a few steps back. The snapping wrist is misread momentarily as the possibility of the rusted katana blade swinging back into him. It does not.
The strength in which it thrusts into the ground beneath is. He only has one hand on the quarterstaff for gripping and balance purposes as the blackness of a despair turned something of a whirlpool seeks to drag him in.
The sorrow doesn't leave him. Unlike Gwen, he does not seem to see it fit to respond to this sensation with softness or kindness, or anything resembling a good intention.
Dean, Fei, and Avril are within the vicinity of this assault upon one's will, reason, and soul - people he should acknowledge. People he might be able to reach out and pull away - to help them.
He does not. The enigmatic white-haired Symbologist, who seem to see it fit to hide much of his face - and the near-entirety of his heart - away from it all extends this same coldness to the crumbling Sword Dancer. It is not hatred. His brow cannot be measured as deeply furrowed in the way anger presents, as the maelstrom of a Demon's Roar screams in his ears to be heard.
He has nothing to say to the Trial Knight. There were the coincidental(?) words of their voice, and his own mind from the beginning - even as they seem to stand on exactly opposite ends.
He takes a step forward. He halts, ducking and crouchign as the whirling spin of blades nearly includes the interloper's scalp in their rotation...
...and throws himself into a roll against the ground, having to release his hand from his side. Every impact over the wound of his flank is sheer agony, but he does not halt to nurse it as the bloodied hand comes to his quarterstaff.
Lying prone, dangerously underfoot as he tries to exploit another unconventional anger of attack. He risks lying at the feet of a merciless creature, against a ground boiling in cognitive dissonance and soul poison. He tastes blood and dirt in unison as he removes one hand from the weapon he grips, shoves the hand under the bandanna around his face, and uses his teeth to yank off the damp glove of his left hand.
His bare hand will only be dry enough from other moisture for the time it takes for him to get casting again as he lies in a place that would be fitting for a grave. A grave to be another forgotten name, another victim. The removed glove falls out of his mouth to allow itself to be buried in the mud ahead of the rest of him should it come to it.
Without error or fail, he chants together the syllables for an electrical spell. He shuts out all other distractions surrounding him. From underneath, he completes the final gesticulations as his hand threatens to turn too damp to safely release such from his hand. He whispers the spell's name.
A bolt of electricity lances forth, trying to find purchase through the nearest blade to himself and shock the creature to its core. All around, limits are tested, broken, exceeded - to frightening consequences. He seems to deem them inconsequential.
Though his facial expression holds steady and his movements sure, his heart beats ever faster. Adrenaline pumps through, a reminder that this is a mortal man in the thick of a situation that goes beyond mere fight or flight. To say he is unafraid would be a lie, and yet, he has hurled himself into a compromising position.
If he is not cowing to fear of a creature beyond his comprehension - and his ability - then what, exactly, does this man fear that would drive him to dangerous lengths?
GS: Ethius Hesiod has attacked Sword Dancer with Direct Bolt! GS: Ethius Hesiod has completed his action. GS: Dean Stark has attacked Cyre H. Lorentz with Material - Blazing True Hearts! GS: Dean Stark has attacked Cecilia Adlehyde with Material - Blazing True Hearts! GS: Dean Stark has attacked Rosaline Calice with Material - Blazing True Hearts! GS: Dean Stark has attacked Riesenlied with Material - Blazing True Hearts! GS: Dean Stark takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Dean Stark has completed his action. GS: Riesenlied takes a glancing hit from Dean Stark's Material - Blazing True Hearts for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Riesenlied! GS: Reload! Riesenlied gains 15 extra FP from Dean Stark! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde takes a solid hit from Dean Stark's Material - Blazing True Hearts for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Cecilia Adlehyde! GS: Reload! Cecilia Adlehyde gains 15 extra FP from Dean Stark! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz takes a solid hit from Dean Stark's Material - Blazing True Hearts for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Cyre H. Lorentz! GS: Reload! Cyre H. Lorentz gains 15 extra FP from Dean Stark! GS: CRITICAL! Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Jacqueline Barber's Pillar Crash for 90 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ethius Hesiod's Direct Bolt for 48 hit points! GS: Rosaline Calice takes a solid hit from Dean Stark's Material - Blazing True Hearts for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Rosaline Calice! GS: Reload! Rosaline Calice gains 15 extra FP from Dean Stark!
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
The ground screams. Despair rolls over everyone like waves. The sky itself seems to be turning red. And Emma has run out of Punchy Gun shots.
It is not a good situation. The Emulator is drawn but whatever hope may be found in the Sword Dancer's stolen data is not yet finished compiling. How vexing, Emma thinks: I'm probably going to die with this still compiling!
But hope remains. She can tab out - other data is found - the Silhouette Veil is invoked and a strip of yellow material forms in front of her, then another, another, and soon enough she is able to crouch behind this canary-yellow barrier from harm, even as a hideous blow falls upon it and makes the half-solid material collapse like a confectionary chick.
Emma jabs a button repeatedly, in the hopes that it will bring her salvation. Cascades (not Janus) of water smash down from the sky, as if God is hurling icicles but they're burning up partway on re-entry, but the force on the Sword Dancer, perhaps, will help.
And out of the corner of the eye is a dash of red. But a familiar one. "Rudy!!" Emma cries in evident and unfeigned delight. "You didn't bring the Love Deterrent, did you?!"
What? (It's not important.)
GS: Emma Hetfield has attacked Sword Dancer with Hydro Launcher! GS: Emma Hetfield has been weakened by Disease! They take 0 hit points of damage, and burn off their temporary hit points! GS: Emma Hetfield has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
The Ebony Wings continues to push through with their efforts; Jedan is throwing himself into the mix of things with Salamandra as he more forcefully swoops up the villagers that are visibly running towards them. "Up you go, come on, don't be shy!" he grunts as he says, "Don't die, Riese..."
The blade only finds purchase for a few seconds, however -- in a scant blink of an eye, Riesenlied has once more become Laplace's Metal Demon, disappearing into a burst of photons as she re-emerges on the ground, clutching and coughing and gasping for air.
As she struggles for air, she keeps her eye on where Jacqueline has decided to still make her stand -- proud of the young woman who she admires, but concerned at how the Sword Dancer continues to lurch even as they press the assault upon it. What sorrow and lethargy drives it...? She does not understand its connection, still...
And her eyes are wide once more as a swirl of power comes and overwhelms the area for a moment-- and where the Baskar shaman once stood, a great white beast has replaced him. "The Nahual..." she murmurs, shaking her head as she backs away to refocus her efforts on the villagers. She hears Noeline calling for her.
"I still see some who need aid, Noeline! Keep it up, but do not overextend your position--" Riesenlied speaks, more through her throat microphone than her voice, though her eyes widen as she sees the attack coming towards her life partner's way. "Noeline!!"
It's enough to spike a sense of urgency and protectiveness through her -- manifested as the Dragon's Tear shimmers and that ever-familiar crystalline hilt emerges from her chest. Already haggard from the combined efforts of their evacuation, as well as the ever-entrenched power of Malevolence...
...she carries on, as she withdraws that crystal sword of ephemeral light. The Rising Sword, Laevateinn.
"I won't let you cause any more harm to anyone else..."
Wordlessly, Riesenlied rushes forth -- and disappears into a portal of shimmering light.
She emerges at an odd angle, cutting at the Dancer's flank -- and disappearing once more, a vestige striking above, below, a thrust to the front. She accelerates, and lets her physical form break free; the Hyadean is less a physical being at present as she is fundamental particles, a trailing whirlwind of cuts created by one that has transcended the boundary of space.
It does not come without cost. As Riesenlied emerges through a final portal, towards Noeline to skid by her side, it is with no small amount of pain that she gives her a small smile...
"... just like old times. Mm...?"
GS: Riesenlied enters CONDITION GREEN!! GS: Riesenlied has attacked Sword Dancer with Rising Sword - 'Illusory Dominance'! GS: Riesenlied has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Emma Hetfield's Hydro Launcher for 65 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Riesenlied's Rising Sword - 'Illusory Dominance' for 115 hit points! GS: Kourin has attacked Sword Dancer with Glacial Golem! GS: Kourin takes 4 damage from Poison! GS: Kourin has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Xantia has posed.
Xantia can't help concern from slipping into her eyes when Fei replies to her. Normally, she would likely have assumed he would be fine after that little pep-talk, but she's more perceptive than usual right now. And somehow, it just... doesn't feel like he's going to be okay.
Before she can think of possibly following up on that however, the Sword Dancer comes out swinging, almost literally cutting her off. She never even saw the threat until it was almost right upon her, leaping backwards in time only because of the heightened reflexes granted by her current state of being. The Solarian blade sent her way didn't completely miss, as a streak of red across her left arm gives away, but she escaped what could have been a far worse fate.
She spots Rosaline nearby, victim of the same attack. Having to act quickly, now that there's an opening, she offers the only thing she can at a time like this: a hopefully reassuring smile. Perhaps a small comfort at a time like this, but maybe her intended follow-up will be more comforting.
Though it all happens lightning quick, to Xantia it feels like things are moving in slow motion. Casting her eyes onto the Sword Dancer, it's as if it's the first time she sees it, really sees it. It used to just make her angry, this huge skeleton that seems to just exist to cause pain and suffering. Now... now it feels more like something that exists because of pain and suffering. Something to be pitied.
Nevertheless, it doesn't change anything about her approach. Only her feelings behind it have changed. Wanting to put the evil skeleton monster out of its misery doesn't change the fact that it's still an evil skeleton monster that needs to be punched.
She hears Fei's encouragement, and follows through. Rather than bringing the ARM back into play, she uses what she judges as an unguarded moment to dash in, and put all her power into a single blow directed straight at the back of the creature's skull, right as it's sagging down after the attack on her and Rosaline. From last time, she knows that shattering the skull alone is not enough to stop it. But she also knows that the bones are not the true problem here. They're just a shell that has to be removed.
It's doubtful that she'd be thinking all this through so clearly if she'd kept fighting the way she normally does. And she definitely wouldn't have been able to direct lightning into the creature at the point of impact with as much intensity as she's currently capable of, adding that much more force behind the blow, before immediately backing away to get clear of those swords.
Xantia looks around for Fei. But she can't find him anymore. Where did he go?
All too soon, the thought is replaced by 'where did HE come from?' It's him. It's... "Id?!" And attacking the wrong target, to boot. Granted, she doesn't know Corwynt at all, but it's someone who's on their side. Which, of course, results in Xantia getting in his face. All that heightened focus, lost, possibly willfully ignored, in favor of running directly at him. "What are you doing?! Stop it! If you want to fight, fight me!"
She only realizes what she said a moment after. The Sword Dancer, she was going to say 'fight the Sword Dancer'. Why did she end up saying that instead?
No. She knows why. The real question is... why does she want to fight Id so badly?
GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Kourin's Glacial Golem for 82 hit points! GS: Xantia has attacked Sword Dancer with Focus Punch! GS: Xantia takes 4 damage from Poison! GS: Xantia has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.
Gwen loads her ARM while speaking of mercy. But at times, isn't it merciful to strike a blow cleanly?
Mercy, something seems to speak to Avril alone, is such a misunderstood word...
"...Yes. You are right again," Avril acknowledges, as the Knight serves up a counterpoint to Gwen's declaration. "And yet, that is the nature of the world as well, is it not? Would there be definition to acts of mercy if such acts were commonplace? We strive because of and in spite of trials laid before us."
She can hear Dean, not far off, even if she can't see him from here. "He is also correct. As a flower is precious because it does not last, so is this. I shall not yield easily."
And after that, there isn't much opening to say much at all. Between trading blows with the Sword Dancer -- and striving to avoid being eviscerating by the same -- awareness of the world beyond her immediate fight thins, dims.
But some things get through.
Such as Ida getting run through. "Ida--"
For a fraction of a second, Avril's attention is turned away from her opponent. It prepares another attack, darkness suppurating from it.
For a fraction of a second.
The Medium she bears shines from beneath her wrap. Lucadia's blessing is bestowed.
Avril is no longer there. Clearing the surging shockwave of darkness by inches, she soars, defying physical laws for just that instant.
Light, cast perhaps by the electrical shockwaves crossing the field, catch on her blade.
No. The blade is gone, with just a tilt of her hand. Avril plummets, buoyed only by the Medium's continued grace.
And here as she falls once again from the heavens, she pulls the trigger on Absolute Zero.
Light comes forth. Light scythes downwards.
Sword. Skeletal arm. She'll cut what needs to be cut.
But is this mercy?
She lands, regardless, soon after, rolling back from the Sword Dancer, blade already manifest once more.
It may be too late to regret what has already been done.
There are already regrets abound, perhaps. Too late, Avril catches what Gwen has done--
A memory of Janus running Gwen through atop a train car stutter-flickers across her mind.
--and for a moment Avril's composure cracks. "Gwen! No--"
She turns away from the Sword Dancer, leaving herself open.
She turns away from the Statue.
Do the ends justify the means?
Avril doesn't have an answer as such. She rushes to the young woman's side. "Here-- I have you," she murmurs, closing her eyes briefly as she reaches out to steady Gwen.
Here, too, is briefly a pulse of... something.
It's certainly something.
Then, suddenly, Avril shivers, a wince crossing her face. "Something's..."
A red light.
"No... it can't be..."
GS: Avril Vent Fleur has attacked Sword Dancer with Absolute Zero - Plasma Arc! GS: Avril Vent Fleur has completed her action. GS: Avril Vent Fleur used Mystic on Gwen Whitlock! 100 Temporary HP gained! All statuses cleared! GS: Avril Vent Fleur has activated a Force Action!
<Pose Tracker> Corwynt has posed.
For a moment, Corwynt is certain that victory is in the grasp of the faithful. He slip-steps past the darting blade of the Sword Dancer, which carves a line along the meat of his left thigh, hissing in a breath in response to the pain. But pain is an old friend to the Storm Fist, and with the Shepherd's Squire at his side, even the Malevolence can be vanqui---
hate
Corwynt staggers as the sudden surge of power washes over him, power in excess of his own, power rivaling that even of the Shepherd's Squire, power tainted with an emotion no less dangerous, no less corrosive than the one they faced until now. And one that is so, so familiar. "Go, Esquire," Corwynt says, turning fully forward toward the flame-haired demon. "The source of this calamity must fall. Whatever else happens - whatever else."
He steps forward.
Id is ranting, but Corwynt barely hears the words. He hears the pain behind it, the agony, a despair almost unfathomable in its depth and fervor. An impossible anger that can be born only from grief, from the cold ashes of burned-out joy. A rage that poisons even those memories you cherish, until - in your darkest moments - you wish you had never loved them at all. So you would be free of them all. It is a hate Corwynt Marikson (a name he rarely even thinks about for the sake of the grief it brings) knows all too well. And he knows just as well that it cannot be reasoned with, or stopped.
Only faced.
And so as Id launches the fire of his hatred, Corwynt flickers forward on wings of air and faith, vanishing and reappearing with blinding speed. For an instant, time seems to slow, the Storm Fist standing in front of the Red Demon of Elru, left hand forward and open, right fist drawn back and screaming with greenish-white power. Every sinew of every muscle in the little man's body strains near to breaking, poised on the verge of delivering the most powerful strike he can manage into the centre of Id's abdomen.
But then he drops down to one knee and directs it at the flame-haired demon's groin instead.
GS: Corwynt has attacked Id with Great Breakthrough! GS: Corwynt has been weakened by Disease! They take 0 hit points of damage, and burn off their temporary hit points! GS: Corwynt takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Corwynt has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.
While on his way towards Id, though, the shockwave that had slammed into Fei an instant earlier now smashes into him, knocking him off his feet and sending him tumbling onto the ground, rolling, rolling, rolling, slowing to a stop. He coughs viciously, lungs pounding at his ribs, and for a moment, he's too dizzy to see straight, let alone get up. But--even so, even as terrible as that strike was, he can't give up. He *won't* give up. He squeezes his eyes shut, concentrating on the voices of his friends all around him... and then he forces himself up to his wobbling feet, and continues his pursuit.
He made a promise. He's not entirely sure if the guy in red really *is* Fei, but if there's any chance this is what Fei meant, then he *has* to stop him.
GS: CRITICAL! Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Xantia's Focus Punch for 83 hit points! GS: Id guards a hit from Corwynt's Great Breakthrough for 76 hit points! GS: Disease! Statuses applied to Id! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Avril Vent Fleur's Absolute Zero - Plasma Arc for 156 hit points! GS: Break! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer!
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
Noeline senses the attack well before it strikes; it's a cessation in the air around her, the stretching and twisting of the corona that covers her as it abruptly becomes faced with the encroaching Malevolence. Were Duras Drum not sealed, her shield might be able to better withstand the attack; as it is, the Guardian's power ebbs at just the wrong time, the force around her waning away at just the wrong moment. She tenses, tries to jump aside--
--and for a moment, the world fuzzes out into angry blurred static. Pain blossoms through her frame, already fatigued from channeling the Guardian's power, and Noeline dimly realizes after a moment that the angry, sharp hiss is her own. The world is at an angle it shouldn't be, the sky below her and the ground above - and then she collides heavily with the ground, tumbling raggedly away from the gigantic ephemeral blade as if it were a purely physical force rather than a spiritual one that had just tugged her like a ragdoll.
She only stops when she impacts with the side of a building, coughing as if she'd been struck physically; her eyes are unfocused and dim even as she lifts her head, focused not on the twisted, vaguely horse-like Hellion bearing down on her, but something far past it.
Meeting Alhazred is an experience one doesn't easily forget. A sibilant kind of voice, and one that even an neophyte could realize was edged with a dangerous sort of fanaticism, a pure disregard for identity or individuality beyond anyone or anything else in the Photosphere. A touch on a cheek, a tiny, mirthless chuckle. "Such fine work, that skin. I'd love to study it." The suggestion of a scalpel, its point glinting in the clinical neon light. It's what awaits her at the end of this path, a traitor and a ringleader, a scientific curiosity and a husk of otherworldly metal to be recycled away--
The horse-thing leaps, its flat teeth champing at a non-existant bit as it bears down towards the twintailed demon - but the sensation of bursting motes of light triggers something inside of her, and she finds herself rising through sheer force of will, dragging the molten blade at her side back up to its full shape and driving it home through the creature's side. Stopping its advance takes effort; Noeline winces and nearly buckles under it, fatigued despite a lack of injury - but manages to stay standing, her hands sliding only a little down the haft.
A moment to huff at Riesenlied's appearance, her smile very wry, and then she sucks in a deep breath, hauling herself back up to standing. "Honestly... that's all you've got?" she challenges the empty air at last, heaving her blade back up to both hands. Her synthetic muscles quiver like jelly, but the light's still in her eyes. "No counterargument? No subtlety or nuance? Just beat down anyone who disagrees?" she adds, an anger sparking behind her words. She hasn't noticed Id yet, and perhaps that's for the best. "That can't change what's happened. That can't change the fact this is one Statue amongst many. Even if you win this battle, the point remains that you lost this war. Nothing about this is futile."
"Besides--" she adds, and grits her teeth, as once again her scythe blossoms into black flame; she holds it aloft, then wrenches it around in a gigantic swing that sends a line of black light streaking across the battlefield. "I'm not-- down-- yet!"
GS: Noeline has attacked Sword Dancer with Stinging Rebuke! GS: Noeline has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Noeline's Stinging Rebuke for 56 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer enters CONDITION GREEN!!
<Pose Tracker> Rosaline Calice has posed.
Rosaline watches, horrified, as Ida shoves the sword out of her body. The Etone-to-be continued pouring her power into her friend, doing all she can to ease her pain... Which is not what she wants to begin with.
And off she goes, striking the Sword Dancer with the same sword without wasting a second. Soundlessly, Rosaline mouths words of encouragement for her friend.
But the Sword Dancer unleashes countless swipes of its weapon in her direction, prompting the nun to hop away frantically, only narrowly managing to be cleaved in half, and instead getting away with several deep gashes across her body. Xantia manages to offer her a smile, which barely registers.
She pants, wincing in pain. And just then, finally notices Rose unleashing the mighty power she thought was unique to the Shepherd. Cyre undergoes a dramatic transformation, the power of which Rosaline only caught a glimpse of before. Everyone is unleashing everything they have... And suddenly, a warrior bathed in a red glow joins the fray, providing even further threat to an already desperate situation.
And here Rosaline stands, only one woman. A mediocre sorceress, at best. She wishes she had brought her Gear. Maybe then, she would feel able to do anything to help, besides mess up, waver, flinch, get hurt, provide help that nobody wanted, make the situation worse--
But suddenly, Dean summons Moor Gault, and the Guardian's power washes over her. It interrupts her fatalistic train of thought, reminding her of why she came, of the hope still, perhaps, attainable. It reminds her of Xantia's encouraging smile.
Rosaline takes a deep breath.
She knows what she's doing is likely heretical. She's been doing her best to hide the stone tablet from her fellow clergy members. They likely wouldn't take kindly to her carrying around memorabilia from one of the religions turning people's eyes away from the true faith.
And yet, what else can she do? There's only so much magical power she can bring to bear with her own skill and her faith alone. It may be a sin, but she's a great sinner and a hypocrite. She can't deny this anymore. What is one more, when truly needed? God forgives, and so she will have to atone, in time. This is what Etones are, after all:
Atoners of sin.
And so, she pulls out the stone tablet and remembers Catenna's words. Don't demand power. Request it. Rosaline closes her eyes, incanting something that isn't quite, but resembles a prayer. She opens them, echoes in her voice.
"Material."
Clouds part above, allowing a beam of light to shine through. A being of unfathomable majesty, bathed in a radiant halo, descends over the Sword Dancer and the Hellions. The Guardian is an androgynous figure, partly masked and garbed in robes of immaculate white and blood red, held aloft by wings seemingly woven of the blue sky itself. If Rosaline did not know better, she would easily confuse Solais Emsu for a member of God's own host, equal to Granas.
She knows this isn't the case, but doesn't voice this. Perhaps the Guardian already felt the lack of genuine reverence in her heart as she called upon them. But regardless, in this hour of great need, they still came.
Solais Emsu regards the overrun village and the defiled statue with great pity. They wave a hand, directing the light surrounding them to split into several halos of red, green, orange, blue, yellow and purple. They whirl about in bedazzling patterns, before splitting again to strike down at the Sword Dancer and the Hellion horde.
"Heaven Spectacle!" Rosaline cries out.
Rosaline pants as the Guardian disappears. She can barely process the enormity of what she's just done.
GS: Rosaline Calice has attacked Sword Dancer with Material - Heaven Spectacle! GS: Rosaline Calice has been weakened by Disease! They take 0 hit points of damage, and burn off their temporary hit points! GS: Rosaline Calice has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Rosaline Calice's Material - Heaven Spectacle for 171 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Ryudo has posed.
Such is the Sword Dancer's intent on Ida's neck that it's as if Ryudo isn't even there. This by no means is an indicator of the mercenary's lease on life being any more assured, as the arc of the Sword Dancer's cruel swing threatens to simply _cleave the Geohound in twain_ across the ribs. With no chance of stepping out of the blade's reach -- and risk of being trampled if he attempts to throw himself to the ground -- his response is to swing his blade wide again and with all of the strength he can muster behind it. An thunderous clash of metal can be heard as the instruments meet, Ryudo's torso rotating so that he brace his elbow against the flat of it as his strength slowly gives way to the might behind it. Turf is dug up behind his heels as his body is forced backward, but the defense holds and serves to reduce the amount that can connect with the blade's *actual* target.
"Skye, now! TOPPLE 'EM!"
High above, the hawk banks on its wings and coasts into a dive at terminal velocity. As Skye descends, violet energy crackles in the wake of his wings -- not to be confused with the darker and more sinister tinged Malevolence that surrounds the battlefield -- and the hawk soars right past the Sword Dancer's head on his descent toward the ground.
Violet energy coalesces into a field of tendrils that attempt to wind themselves around the Sword Dancer's torso. These strands of energies extend downward past the shambling abomination and into the talons of Skye, who abruptly pulls out of the dive begins pumping his wings mightily. The sudden midair twist would pull the net of energy taut, and barring another trick up the Sword Dancer's bony sleeve result in an attempt to by the bird to deliver an airborn takedown that yanks it off its feet.
While Ryudo has plenty of faith in Skye, he isn't going to risk his strength not being enough to fell the beast. He'll throw his shoulder into the torso of the Sword Dancer and assist Skye with bowling him over. "Kiss the stones, ugly!"
GS: Ryudo has attacked Sword Dancer with Lightning Dive! GS: Ryudo has been weakened by Disease! They take 0 hit points of damage, and burn off their temporary hit points! GS: Ryudo has completed his action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ryudo's Lightning Dive for 73 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
Ida lands in the mud, again, and sags from exertion. Her chest is heaving, her eyes are wide, and the bits of bone stuck to her sodden poncho are slowly dissolving into Malevolent smoke. She sets her feet again, ready for the counterattack that she knows is coming, has to be coming after that, because she's not allowed to have any form of success whatsoever that isn't transitory, or immediately-ruined, or drowned under waves of fresh misery. When it comes, she is as prepared as she can be. Rather than risk getting stuck in the mud, she twists, bending backwards at the waist--but she also throws an arm out for balance, and that is her mistake. The Sword Dancer's decapitating blow passes through the space occupied by her neck less than five seconds ago. It traces a long, shallow gash down Ida's forearm, cutting through bare skin. A line of red wells up.
Ida bites back a scream of pain. She can't give K.K. the satisfaction of hearing her scream, even though she's fairly sure that's not what K.K. actually wants, and it's a pointless, futile gesture meant to assauge her own pride. She plants a hand in the mud, but it sinks in, too. Ida tightens her jaw and pulls, the Malevolence-soaked mud all but crying for her to stay where she is. Please.
You just want someone who understands, don't you?
There are others here, others whom Ida knows. The sharp sound of Rudy's Hand Cannon catches her ear, mostly because it's a gunshot, and Ida listens for those in battle. Ida turns to face the young man a moment, relief and terror and despair and rage warring on her features. 'STOP IT!' Fei screams, somewhere. Ida feels like she was just knifed.
What kind of friend are you? Did you lose track of him? What's your excuse this time?
Ida glances furiously around the battlefield, spotting Gwen and Rudy and Dean and Jack, but not Fei. There's Rosaline, and there's Avril, and Dean's drawing on the strength of her own Guardian patron, but where's Fei?
Fei's missing. Ida remembers that sickening moment when she saw Siegfried throwing Weltall like it was a toy. Remembers a bowl of soup in a cafe in Lacour. Remembers a forged letter from Zed. Casting around, she sees blades coming for Riesenlied. The weapon that impaled her goes right for Noeline. For a moment, Ida feels a sickening mixture of terror and schadenfruede as she watches, ripping her boots free from the mud one by one. Riesenlied blurs away. Noeline takes the hit and tumbles, recovering in far less time than Ida herself had.
'That can't change what's happened. That can't change the fact this is one Statue amongst many. Even if you win this battle, the point remains that you lost this war. Nothing about this is futile.'
Isn't it funny how everyone else is handling this so much better than you are? Isn't it--
Laughter. A flash of red. Ida turns to see the Demon of Elru on the battlefield for no apparent reason. "Id...?" Ida whispers. Where did he come from? Why is he here? Why now?
You're distracted! Mother would shame you for it!
Skye moves in. Ida honestly didn't know the hawk was capable of more than just human thought and human speech, but these are strange times she lives in. Hopefully Skye also has strength enough to keep the Dancer off-balance, because Ida tries to rush in while it's grounded. She balls up a fist and brings it down in a hammer-blow for the Dancer's scapula, or clavicle, or really, any bone in one of its shoulders she can reach.
GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has attacked Hellion Horde with Steel-Breaking Fist! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Cecilia Adlehyde has posed.
The whispers in the back of her mind should probably be more alien than they are...but this is not the stern but warm words of the Guardians. Her fingers tighten again against the staff. No kindness. Not for someone like her. A princess that left her nation; a girl who just does as she's told and drags around a bunch of nitwits and maniacs (and rena) to --
BLAM!!
Cecilia's eyes snap up. The thundercrack tears the air apart but she knows the sound of that gun. "Rudy!" she calls. "Rudy!!"
She feels the ground twisting but she sets her feet, with renewed purpose as she thrusts her staff down. The sword that tries to rip her apart slams into her magic shield and does a whole lot of nothing. She doesn't ask Rudy's forgiveness nor tease his timing; she says only, "It's got the statue! Do everything you can!" ... "And help me keep an eye on Jack!"
Which is when Dean's power rushes through her, and Cecilia turns to see Moor Gault looming above them all. She sucks in a breath, power surging through her. "Doctor Emma," she says. "...I'm sorry for bringing you to this place. I'm afraid..."
Slowly the grip on her staff eases. "I know it's dire, but I'm afraid I cannot retreat just now. Please support me as long as you can. I...I won't blame you if you need to escape." (yes she will)
Power gathers around her as she reaches for a crest, but not before a HORRIBLE LIGHT erupts across the field. Cecillia turns to look. "Another one!?" she hisses out. "...no, the statue first!" and she thusly resolves that Id is one too many inputs to handle right now. This will probably get her blown up someday. "If it's skeletal, then that means...!"
Her magic circle pulses with twin crests of Fray, and she roars, "TINDER!!"
An eruption of fire explodes across the distance, a blooming flame crashing toward the Sword Dancer.
GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has attacked Sword Dancer with Crest Sorcery Freestyle! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Cecilia Adlehyde's Crest Sorcery Freestyle for 65 hit points! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has canceled their attack on Hellion Horde. GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has attacked Sword Dancer with Steel-Breaking Fist! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ida Everstead-Rey's Steel-Breaking Fist for 75 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.
The clock is ticking in more ways than one. The cracks are forming, the Lion's mighty body is failing him. Little by little, bit by bit, with every exertion, he comes closer to collapse.
And yet, through the malaise of despair, through the rage and the choking Malevolence, there is... something there. A plea. Cyre can hear his brother's voice echoing his own. The White Tiger hesitates briefly, reaching a hand out to his tainted opposite.
But then the rage takes him again.
Lightning pours down across them. Him. Leon. Catenna. For a moment, his thoughts snap to her, even as the torrent of electrical madness cascades into him. She's alive. Her voice calls out to him, to the spirits of the world, to everything in nature that can muster in its defense. She calls out, Cyre hears her. He hears something else as well.
A roar reverberating in the calamitous din. He senses light amidst the darkness.
The Nahual seizes his brother's arms. He feels the power of the guardians surging through him. The power of the moon drawing downwards. The warmth of fiery, phoenix wings ensconcing him. His claws dig deep into the Lion's limbs, the great mandala of wind upon his back blossoming into a microcosmic storm and the burning, brilliant eye of power and tranquility and majesty at its heart. "I hear you," Cyre murmurs, "Leon. It's fine. We can all fail sometimes. We can all be weak. But you, you were always the one to stand up when everything seemed lost. Keeping the pain bottled up inside must've sucked, but you did it. All the stress of all those expectations, you felt it as much as I did."
"But you rose to that challenge. You always did. This... This darkness, this darkness is nothing compared to that strength," Cyre's grip tightens, even as the pull of gravity drags ever downwards. "I'd always admired it. I was envious of it. And that made me resentful, spiteful. But damnit, Leon, of all the times for you to give up, why the hell did you have to pick now?"
"Come on," Cyre rumbles, the enormous storm building behind him unfurling, widening into a great, golden gyre of airy essence. The Nahual taps into the will of the wind, unshackling it, shattering the chains that bind it. "Wake up, buddy. I know you're in there. We need you. Your people, your home, your brother-- we need you now, more than ever! This is as big of a wakeup call as I can ring, so open your ears!"
"LISTEN!" he booms, releasing a vortex of storm-wind drawn from the primordial tempest tempest itself. "BROTHER LIGHTNING, THE WIND IS CALLING! THE PEOPLE ARE CRYING! THE LAND NEEDS ITS GUARDIANS! I'M HERE NOW, LET ME SHOULDER YOUR BURDEN!"
AWAKEN, THUNDER!
GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has attacked Sword Dancer with Awakening Air! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has completed his action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Cyre H. Lorentz's Awakening Air for 82 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Scarred this land... with the depths of their mercy? Is this some inkling of what drives KK? She can't quite understand their meaning. "Then we'll be the stars to your night. We'll keep the sky from going dark, until the moon shines on us all."
It's one of those analogies Gwen is sometimes fond of, a side she doesn't always indulge in in front of others. A rare, positive aspect of her old self, that she rarely showed to her friends, for... obvious reasons.
... But what would be the moon? Gwen wishes she had more time to think out that analogy.
The crack of thunder causes Gwen to look up, sweat soaking her bloodied hair. "... Rudy?" Somehow, seeing the young Drifter, clad in his usual clothing and bandanna, manages to inspire some hope in her, much like Cecilia.
The swords that erupt from the ground moments afterward? Much less so. The Sword Dancer impacts its blades into the ground, both slipping upward through Gwen and Cecilia with appalling sharpness. ".... ..a..." Well. This hurts. "...gh..."
When she manages to recover (as much as anyone really can from that, she'll just draw inspiration from Ida here), Gwen straightens, her ARM cycling to keep up with the restless bounding of her weak heart. Then, she sees it-
An understandably distrustful civilian looks at Riesenlied and Noeline with tired, scared eyes, barely able to get up, much less run to the very demons that attacked Adlehyde, regardless of whatever they actually did. Part of the horde of Hellions closes in on them, sharp teeth bared. Its mouth opens, and descends on the poor young man, looking not that much older than Rudy himself is.
The teeth instead bear down on Gwen's ARM, casting sparks against the face of Gwen and the terrified boy just beyond. Fear coaxes the civilian to finally run, while Gwen is tossed to the side against a wall.
There is blackness, a moment of coherence, blackness again. Gwen opens blurry grey-blue eyes to see Avril, holding her up. "... T-thanks. That was... a doozy, eheh..." Something flows into her. Bringing her back, if just for a moment longer. "... Gotta save that statue.."
Numbly, she moves. Her ARM straightens, Gwen's left hand holding the elbow steady. ".. Just... keep t... keep goin'...."
Gwen shouldn't be here.
But she's glad she is.
GS: Gwen Whitlock has activated a Force Action! GS: Gwen Whitlock has attacked Sword Dancer with Coil Cannon EX! GS: Gwen Whitlock has completed her action. GS: CRITICAL! Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Gwen Whitlock's Coil Cannon EX for 121 hit points! GS: Jam! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer!
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
Fleeting moments. Fleeting moments of mercy, as the statue, or something within the Dancer, seems to respond to the calls of those rallied against it. Seems to help them. Seems to, perhaps, for a few seconds, grant them reprieve from the full brunt of the Sword Dancer's agony. Before it, too, responds in turn. Whatever was there is quenched within the superfluous mire of the Sword Dancer. It rises from where it kneeled, ripping blades from the swampland as its head rolls at an irregular angle -- damage from previous onslaughts having bent it so.
There is no mercy when Kourin turns upon it, magical construct of ice bearing that fist down. It CRACKS into the skull of the Hellion, ice and Malevolence shattering against each other as it drives itself forward wearily to drive the long, rusted tip of its katana into the golem -- through the golem -- and into Kourin with blindingly frightening speed for something so seemingly slothful, to run her through and then carve -away-. To scar her with a rust that bleeds into the mind.
Electricity bolts through the skeletal construct of misery shortly thereafter, through the blood-slicked edge of that very same rusted blade. It conducts, bubbling across blood and charging the creature to its core, reverborating down to the statue trapped within its corroding confines. It smokes, leaning forward at its skeletal waist, arms dangling. The hiss from it is practically ionic in how it charges the air with sheer, cathartic relief.
As if Ethius' abuse was a godsend to break it briefly free from the depressive nature that rules its every waking moment.
Fear... no... why...? No point... worthless...
It is these sad thoughts it sings to the metaphysical air as it turns, water splattering and slurching at its heels. A spear of blue and white soars, a ballista to demolish. The Sword Dancer instantly lashes out, -hurling- its katana at Rose at the same time, intent to spear her just as -it- is speared through. The massive arrow DRIVES through its center, splintering its sternum and sundering its ribs. Malevolence whispers its distinctly despair-flavored thoughts into Rose's mind, but there is no coherent core to this. No person, or animal, driving this creature.
It is pure, unfiltered Malevolence. Offering nothing more than chaotic jumbles of sentiments that threaten to dredge up the mire of a Shepherd or Squire's -own- mind with each purified chunk.
It is as it strides to pick up that rusted blade, that a shot rings out. A slug CRACKS across its skull, sending it snapping to the opposite direction of its previous angle. It groans, head turning to regard Rudy from afar. And just as it does...
That carving lance of force CLEAVES through it, courtesy of Jack. It cuts through one leg, sending the creature toppling downward. And as it does, as it falls to one knee...
... that blade, that powerful black blade, sings its sad song as it drives itself into Jack Van Burace's heart of hearts. Not to sing despair into his soul.
Every flash, every memory, every lost life that he failed to protect.
All to inspire his hatred.
It is a churning morass of vile thoughts it blesses the former Fenrir Knight with, reaching deep, wanting that spark of rage like it was a flame in the chill of winter. But before it can reach further, water drives into the Dancer bodily from the rain-soaked heavens, slamming it into the ground until its face splashes into the muck. And there it stays, courtesy of Emma... until Riesenlied emerges from that portal just as it starts to rise, striking it from its side, from its front, creating a dervish of force around the sword-swinging Hellion until Noeline's scythe helps to physically -launch- the creature into the air. Bone splinters and splatters across the waterlogged ground as its mending leg slams into the wet grass, bracing itself. Its head rolls back. Water fills its empty eyesockets until it overflows like tears. Its mouth hangs open.
And it is a brief moment of weakness Avril and Xantia capitalize on in swift succession. Light -scythes- downwards, cleaving through the arm holding that bleak black blade. It carves -off-, and the thing goes tumbling, scattering across the ground. Almost instantly the Dancer's attention turns towards it, as if compelled to follow it, as if it could do nothing -but- follow the blade. And in that space, Xantia's fist DRIVES into its skull in a dim echo of that first encounter, EXPLODING chunks of cranium outward to expose the cracking statue beneath further... just as more stone dissolves away.
It staggers, sways. And then just stumbles towards the black blade and the severed arm holding it. It barely even notices as the skies split, as the Guarian manifests, as Solais Emsu directs that dazzling light to hammer the Sword Dancer. Light explodes off of it, ripping it to pieces, sheering off more chunks of calcified Malevolence. But still it stumbles, falls, -drags itself across the earth-. Until it can reach it. Until it can grasp that blade...
... and drive it -straight- into the protective comforts of its sheathe. And as Rosaline processes, the Malevolence whispers.
Heathen... blasphemy... sacrilege... for what...? Point...less... sacrifice...
Slowly, the Dancer rises. And as it does, violet energy and flame find themselves upon the creature. Energies reach out, grip, and -yank- the Dancer off its feet courtesy of Skye and Ryudo's teamwork... just in time for Cecilia's flame to bloom upon the battlefield. It bakes the skeletal monstrosity, boils at it, blackens blackened bone towards charred crisps. But when it all abates...
... the Sword Dancer has not landed.
Ugly... topple... dire... afraid....... sorry........
The Dancer floats, as Ida lands on it. It floats as if suspended by strings as she SMASHES it with her fists. Burnt bone cracks, breaks...
... and Ida may see the sparks of lightning perhaps seconds too late before it all RIPPLES around the Sword Dancer in a corona of ionized violets.
Gwen's ARM straightens. Aims. Fires. Bone cracks and peels away to reveal more of the statue beneath as the Sword Dancer floats lifelessly in mid-air, crackling with electricity. The blade within its skull throbs... and despair latches for Gwen. Attempts to reach out and sink into her soul. Showing her visions of failure. Futility. Her aunt, dying before her eyes, and for what? Nothing. Because that's what happens. That is inevitability. Embrace it. Give up. Surrender.
And from the Sword Dancer, a storm blooms.
It is pure lightning. No thunder. No rain. No sound. Just light, blinding and agonizing and somehow -cold- as it builds and grows and bursts and bubbles around the Dancer like a growing field, constantly electrifying -everything- and -everyone- in its path. Hellions, buildings, people -- it doesn't matter. Anything caught within will suffer the same random, pointless menace as the energies within it build to a crescendo.
keep... doozy... night... dark...
As the statue begins to crumble in earnest within the broiling tempest.
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
Fleeting moments. Fleeting moments of kindness, in the form of K.K.'s lack of denial of their words. There is something to be said, as they watch. As distant as they seem... the Knight does question them when their points are raised. Does not deny them. Merely seems to expect them to prove it. They could have attacked. They still can.
They do not, yet. Why, when it could likely turn the tide in favor of what they presumably want, is anyone's guess.
They do not hinder, yet they do not help. Fleeting kindness, that may not be much kindness at all, that is stolen away by a bloom of red on the battlefield. Power. They sense it. It is a sensation not wholly unfamiliar to them, either. That faceless, eyeless helm tilts. Turns towards the direction of Id's appearance. And in that moment, their attention is stolen by the man. His words. His actions, against Corwynt. You're next. The best way to get rid of Malevolence...
"If you are true of strength, then it would be well within your power to do so," concedes K.K., voice calm, warped within the din of their helmet. Destroy them. They do not doubt it. There is so much power apparent there, isn't there? So much power. And yet...
"... But that is not what you are. Is it, destroyer?"
True of strength.
They do not move to attack. But neither do they flee. Fearless even in the face of their own potential end, they watch, and wait, as the Sword Dancer rises. And in the distance, the Hellions, dwindling in their numbers, scattered across the plains, make their own desperate efforts. Some flee. But some yet still attack those remaining villagers. Almost evacuated. Almost safe.
But 'almost' is not 'safe.' Not until it is a certainty. Is it?
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
Fleeting moments. Fleeting moments of hope, in the form of that brief, flickering second of lucidity within Leon. Barely lasting long enough to let it be known it is there before he responds violently with that electrical maelstrom. He continues to channel, raw and frenzied, like he was little more than the force of nature that he wielded. He does not dare to even try to stop -- not until Catenna grips and -pulls- upon him with magic-laced gravity. He scrabbles, tears at the ground, ripping chunks of mud and grass from the drenched earth.
But with a snarl, he is airborne, and then slammed DOWN into the muck. Water sprays, silence reigns.
But when the Golden Lion rises again, it is just as furiously as before, electrical arches sputtering from deep within its very chest like a furnace of a storm.
Cyre speaks. Leon's attention shifts. Nostrils flare, fangs reveal themselves within the peel of that inhuman maw in a scowl. This darkness is nothing compared to that strength.
From a distance, K.K. turns his attention to the pair. Watches. Quiet.
Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP.
"Hrrrghh--"
The tempest unleashes itself, and within that gyre, Leon is caught. The spiritual will of the wind, Fengalon, the Tiger, lashes at him, rips through him. Familiar. Anger swells within him, not despair. The spark of something else. Something distant.
Memories within the very heart of the Ordeal, when they were both younger.
One left. The other took the world upon his shoulders. The one everyone looked to. Heaped their expectations on. Demanding everything from. While the other...
"HRAAAAAAAARGH!"
Brother Lightning answers, a roar that rips through with startling coherence through the howl of the winds as lighting CRACKS across the distance, ionizing the winds that Cyre has unleashed. Electricity sparks and sputters through the primordial tempest. There are no words, as Leon stands within the gyre, lurched forward, breathing heavily.
But those black eyes are lucid. Lucid, and angry.
"... -shoulder- it, then!"
And the tempest becomes a storm, as the Hellion of the Nahual turns the electrified rage upon the Sword Dancer. Directing it -- to work in tandem with Cyre.
To unleash the Brothers' Storm.
GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Jack Van Burace with Despair! GS: Sword Dancer has completed its action. GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Gwen Whitlock with Despair! GS: Sword Dancer enters CONDITION GREEN!! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Kourin with Rusted Blade! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rose with Rusted Blade! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Jacqueline Barber with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rosaline Calice with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Xantia with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ethius Hesiod with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Emma Hetfield with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Avril Vent Fleur with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Dean Stark with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ryudo with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Noeline with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Riesenlied with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Catenna with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Cyre H. Lorentz with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Rudy Roughnight with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Id with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Ida Everstead-Rey with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Riesenlied takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 189 hit points! GS: Sneak! The true nature of Sword Dancer's attack becomes clear! GS: Rose takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Rusted Blade for 85 hit points! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 174 hit points!
DC: MISS! Catenna completely evades Sorrowful Thunder from Sword Dancer!
GS: Jacqueline Barber takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 88 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Sword Dancer with Vengeful Thunder! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Vengeful Thunder for 228 hit points! GS: Sneak! The true nature of Sword Dancer's attack becomes clear! GS: CRITICAL! Kourin takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Rusted Blade for 166 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Kourin! GS: Kourin has Fallen! She is no longer able to fight! GS: Sword Dancer has attacked Cecilia Adlehyde with Sorrowful Thunder! GS: Id guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 105 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Cecilia Adlehyde critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 63 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Cecilia Adlehyde! GS: Jack Van Burace takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Despair for 215 hit points! GS: Dean Stark takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 189 hit points! GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Dispellado with Mindflayer! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Ethius Hesiod takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 176 hit points! GS: Ryudo guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 116 hit points! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 36 hit points! GS: Emma Hetfield takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 94 hit points! GS: Noeline used Mystic on Noeline! 100 Temporary HP gained! All statuses cleared! GS: Noeline has activated a Force Action!
<Pose Tracker> Kourin has posed.
Kourin's golem shatters as Kourin herself stares in shock at the blade sticking out of her stomach. It withdraws, and she falls. Spirit lets out a despairing whine and stands over her fallen form.
GS: CRITICAL! Rudy Roughnight guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 225 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Rudy Roughnight!
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
Current Round: 4/4
GS: Noeline has activated a Force Action! GS: Noeline takes a solid hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 188 hit points! GS: Gwen Whitlock critically Guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Despair for 5 hit points! GS: CRITICAL! Rosaline Calice guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 182 hit points! GS: Poison! Statuses applied to Rosaline Calice! GS: Dispellado takes a solid hit from Hellion Horde's Mindflayer for 62 hit points! GS: Disease and Weaken! Statuses applied to Dispellado! GS: Avril Vent Fleur guards a hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 109 hit points! GS: Hellion Horde has attacked Dispellado with Pestilence! GS: Hellion Horde has completed its action. GS: Dispellado takes a solid hit from Hellion Horde's Pestilence for 155 hit points! GS: Xantia takes a glancing hit from Sword Dancer's Sorrowful Thunder for 88 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied finds herself on her last legs, her dripping red blood flowing as the Dancer's seemingly final burst of power erupts around them. She feels as if she can hear its sorrow... its pain...
She sees the storm coming--
--and she's hurled back with overwhelming force, electrified and shattered as she crashes against a nearby signpost that no longer has meaning, with its guideposts blown off and tattered. There's a choked gasp as she clutches against the wound of her chest, the one inflicted by that Rusted Blade of the creature...
You asked me once what Malevolence is.
Riesenlied is out cold for a few seconds, collapsed against the floor as she feels something tap against her. "Riese-- Riese!!" It is a raspy, electronic voice. Cetiri's tail whaps against her. "Wake up, daughter!"
I will tell you this: humans are weak creatures. Contradictory. They are more frail than your kind. Less cohesive. They are selfish and prone to denial of what is right in front of them.
She stirs, trembling; she gazes towards the creature that still bursts abound them, their job undone. Villagers still flee, in varying levels of lethargy as Jedan and Dva continues to keep the good fight up -- but even the Dragons are looking fatigued and injured at this point.
"... you still have people to save, Riesenlied."
The Hyadean stumbles to her feet softly, wincing and gasping... and she nods, reaching to Noeline for but a moment-- and the Tear shimmers.
The Rising Sword floats before Riesenlied, no more than a few inches atop the ground. There is a parallel, a duality, perhaps, with the katana that submerged into the ground the Nahual call sacred and spread so much taint and Malevolence across their beloved land.
The things that you so admire in them, Riesenlied, are the very things that give birth to Malevolence.
It descends, ever so softly. At the same time, Riesenlied's wings spread forth -- and where the frail, crumbling tips of her leathery, draconic wings end... a cascade of luminous trails of energy spreads forth. Filled with the verve of life, with the energy of joy and hope of one who's discovered the means to live life free of oppression.
Know this as truth, as you experience more of it. And consider its implications.
A light emanates from the tip of the sword. A beam that rises ever so gently, up into the sky, creating a veil that emanates through to the outskirts of Wehaca Village. Where the light reaches, it dispels away the darkness of the skies... such that it seems --
A New World has come.
DC: Riesenlied switches forms to Fallen Sword Riesenlied!
GS: Riesenlied enters CONDITION GREEN!! GS: Riesenlied has attacked Sword Dancer with Rising Sword - 'Laevateinn Full Burst'! GS: Riesenlied has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Riesenlied's Rising Sword - 'Laevateinn Full Burst' for 186 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Id has posed.
Id can get kicked in the groin. He doesn't take offense to this. It's a perfectly reasonable target. Id just channels some chi there, girding it against Corwynt's assault. It seems like the feint didn't catch him off guard, at least not as much as Corwynt likely hoped. Id looks at Corwynt says, "Well executed but."
Careful Nasrin. She dies, you die too
He's about to strike back when Xantia appears to save the day and demands Id fight her. Again, Id's not really sure what all that's about but he looks into Xantia's eyes and he understands.
Maybe it's something she needs. Dean is also running at him. Id looks past him towards K.K. Id knows K.K. isn't lying. Strength is far different from power just like courage is different from standing your ground just like hope isn't ignoring the pitfalls before you just like just like loving someone isn't the same as wanting them.
"You sound just like him." Id says. "But you talk of strength instead of power. It's not as different as you seem to think. How often have you seen 'strength' fail? Do you see either here? This malevolence you inflict upon them...they enjoy it don't they? The feeling of having something to blame for all the shitty things they do..."
Id feels much in common with Malevolence indeed.
He then says, "Okay." to Xantia.
And then he does it. The energy goes from pure red to pure white and he twists his body, and swinging his palm back.
And then he flings it forward, unleashing a wave of pure white plasma surging along his arm, growing brighter, and brighter, and heavier and heavier and it keeps flowing along, threatening to push into Xantia and through her and past her too.
And then for the Sword Dancer. And push into him. And through her, and towards K.K themselves as the energy buildup grows both in length and width, incinerating buildings and what would have been people in its wake had our heroes not been so studious about helping them escape. Id doesn't get that kind of blood today and the blast barely weaves past Dean, allowing him to get nice and close to Id and do, well, whatever he is hoping to do. Id's focus is off him and he surely can't see Dean with all that radiance. In a way, it's a moment that Xantia purchased for him.
GS: Id has attacked Xantia with Big Bang! GS: Id has attacked Sword Dancer with Big Bang! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Id's Big Bang for 112 hit points! GS: Id takes Cover! He gains 50 temporary hit points! GS: Xantia takes a glancing hit from Id's Big Bang for 115 hit points! GS: Id takes Cover! He gains 50 temporary hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Rose has posed.
The rusted katana slams into the ground past Rose. Her arrow of light deviated its trajectory - just enough. It drew blood as it passed by, and if she leaned just a bit to the side she'd have it deep in her guts. She lucked out. What she isn't lucking out on is the delicious, DELICIOUS Malevolence. It floods her mind for a brief few instants.
"You know, everyone's guilty of something when you think about it."
"You'd really be doing the world a favor solving that at the root."
"I'm not saying you have to kill EVERYONE," Brad's voice says.
"Just the ones who make others' lives miserable."
"Even just a little bit. Knife. Twist. Done."
"ROSE!"
Rose's eyes snap open. "H-Huh... what," she groans.
"You blacked out for a second there."
"O-Oh... yeah, that's... that's what that was, blacking out."
"I felt everything, you know."
"Sorry," Rose says.
Her brows furrow, but she grins, glaring not at the Sword Dancer, but the Trial Knight. "I'm not falling for that! It might be heavy and it might be a shock, but I'm not some terrified little girl anymore! Malevolence has NO hold on me! So come on, BRING MORE OF IT ON!"
Something stirs her. Maybe it's seeing Cyre's brother fight alongside him despite still being a Hellion. Maybe it's Corwynt's willingness to fight the new, demonic arrival so she can keep going. Maybe it's everyone else's determination. It could really just be proving to Mikleo she can handle the strain. Or to Sorey that she can handle herself.
She raises her bow, draws it.
There's a massive build up of power. Water, ice, and most of all the purifying light of the Shepherd. It's certainly not Lailah's fire, and Sorey's better at it, but... she has to try, right?
"My bow is the heavens!" Mikleo and Rose saying tandem. "The vortex swallows you!" And then louder, as if words could have power: "AQUA LIMIT!"
As symbols and runs extend from the bow in a massive display of shimmering azure light, it lets off its arrow. It's a great, massive beam of blue light, joining the light of Riesenlied's own and trying to swallow the Sword Dancer whole.
Pictured: biting more than you can chew. Rose is not going to like the Malevolent backlash. Even if that wasn't in the cards, her body isn't going to like all that energy being spent. Her legs are already buckling. The Armatus is cracking, its light flickering and fading even as she lets the attack loose.
GS: Rose has attacked Sword Dancer with Aqua Limit! GS: Rose has completed her action. GS: Avril Vent Fleur used Mystic on Dean Stark! 100 Temporary HP gained! All statuses cleared! GS: Avril Vent Fleur has activated a Force Action!
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
'Fear... no... why...? No point... worthless...'
This is the first time Ethius has personally encountered this creature. The character of these words... he knows they are not the first. He may not remember their context. He only remembers how he would answer it, as he lie bleeding in the mud. By the way he peels himself away, and dares to stand, it is certain by body language that he does not agree that it is 'no point,' that it is not 'worthless.'
What is the worth to this man? Both hands grasp the quarterstaff and stab it against the ground. One of his legs start to give out as numbness and weakness seep through his wound. When is the last time he blinked? He steps back some more. He should have a greater view of all that is going on. The power that flows through. The screaming, the very elements coming down all around him. The emotions of reunions, of emergences, of desperation... they all seem to wash around him like the torrential downpour. Like some kind of enduring statue representative of a cause, a concept, or event.
Ethius stands as the pure lightning envelops him. Drenched in water as he is, its effect should go without saying. His body spasms and shakes - but he stays on his feet. He is in agony. The only thing that seems to hold him there are those same words spoken by the Trial Knight - and the addition of the few he spoke.
His ungloved hand rises above.
"I call to a star that enables the patterns of life itself, its existence itself an unstable, unsustainable chaos..." His voice is clear. Difficult syllables for a Symbological spell are masked under bridging syllables well-disguised as familiar words to regular spoken language. Runes of light form around him in increasing intensity.
"Relieve your ceaseless pressure at my call, and bathe them in the unrestrained maelstrom of your prominence...!" His voice grows louder as he swings the ungloved hand down towards the earth in a crouch, his fingers spread out as far as they possibly can be as they slap into the slurry of mud and spiritual poison.
GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Rose's Aqua Limit for 90 hit points! GS: Disease! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer!
<Pose Tracker> Jack Van Burace has posed.
In the wake of his slash Jack is already flashing forwards. Running from the possible safety of his friends and allies. Right into the heart of danger. Into the heart of this melee. Into the face of this madness. Sword held in both hands and raised to strike.
Hanpan clinging to his shoulder, yanking on the ponytail. Trying to get the swordsman's attention.
It doesn't seem to work.
Yes Cecilia. He seems to be living up to the earlier statement of 'Not watching out for himself.'
Shouts of his partner and his friends go entirely unheard as he dashes forwards blade raised to strike. He sees his chance as the massive beast falls to one knee. A vicious grin crosses his face as he leaps for the things neck.
Hanpan's warning shirlls in his ears too late.
The black blade impales him. Down though the chest, out his back, into the ground behind him. It stops his charge cold though no more blood or wounds seem to appear on his body he sits impaled to the ground like a butterfly to a collection.
Then comes the rage.
It pours into him like a flood. His body spasms as the sword of his ancient knighthood falls to the ground. He screams then. Loud and long, eyes wide and staring, but he sees nothing by his opponent. The source of this hate. He hears nothing but the blood thundering in his ears.
Hanpan is thrown free by a spasm as Jack's hand reaches for the only weapon he can reach. The Dancer's black sword. As his fingers curl around the hilt of the blade it shimmers, it shrinks. Its edges resembling the curved blade of his as he begins to rip it free of his body.
Hanpan shakes himself as he looks up, eyes wide with shock. "NO!!"
Too late or too far gone its hard to tell as Jack tears the Black Blade from his own chest. It pulses with power, with energy as he flips it around. The balance, the weight, the style. Its all so perfect for him and he takes advantage of it.
Even as the Dancer staggers away he leaps, full of all that rage that the Dancer just imparted into him to swing the monster's own sword for its neck. Passing over its shoulder in that leap, crashing to the ground behind them before falling to his knees. Blood and pure corruption covering his weakening frame before he shudders and collapses forwards onto the battlefield.
As he falls black energy streams away from the weapon, and by the time the once-knight hits the ground? Its gone.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
He does not heed the sadness. How many have told him to stop what he was doing before? IF they told him to stop now, would he?
"S O L A R - - - S T O R M ! !"
That's a 'no.'
A huge, complex Symbological light extends from his person to the successful completion of a difficult incantation and ritual - and the arrival of a tremendous sorcerous force.
A tongue of flame lashes out from the sky, belched forth as though from under immense pressure. As though from the very sun itself, peeking through the haze of the storms. Little seems to differentiate it, on the surface, from other higher-end fire-aligned spells....
To anyone wielding ARMs and other advanced technology - if anyone is standing too close to it, it's going haywire... if it doesn't cease function entirely. Cosmic rays of all kinds ride upon the coattails of the great flame from the sky, bathing the area where the Sword Dancer stands in incredible searing heat - into where the Statue lies. The Statue everyone should fear for the well-being of.
He does not seem to fear the idea that this could scar a fair patch of this earth, rending it free of vegetation or the ability to grow it within the span of the field of battle.
He does not seem to fear the idea that this could debilitate more than a few people here who are dependant upon technology to act, to fight, to live.
He does not even seem to fear the possibility that this spell - this same spell that damaged the mighty Golem of legend, Diablo - might overshoot past the Malevolence-hardened construct of misery represented as bone and destroy the statue that he is ostensibly here to protect.
If there is some fear driving this man's action, as the elevated heartbeat speaks - as the sheer emotion that the Malevolence tickles and probes about - it must be some far-off possibility beyond recognition, but not comprehension.
A fear of what could come if he doesn't bring this destructive force to bear down against the Sword Dancer.
Whatever such thing could be - a thing that this man, who seems to emotionally stand separate from so many people, who seems to act without check or responsibility to much of anyone. Someone who simply decides, for whatever reason... the right to inflict such power at whim, at great risk, is his own right.
Because he must.
GS: Ethius Hesiod has attacked Sword Dancer with Solar Storm! GS: Ethius Hesiod has completed his action. GS: CRITICAL! Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Ethius Hesiod's Solar Storm for 193 hit points! GS: Disrupt, Jam, and Jam! Statuses applied to Sword Dancer! GS: Jack Van Burace has attacked Sword Dancer with Trickster! GS: Jack Van Burace takes 7 damage from Poison! GS: Jack Van Burace has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.
Hope. Hope is a funny thing. That light which is the key to so much strength is fleeting, fickle. When you need it the most, it can seem out of reach. When the night is at its darkest, and you stand furthest from the dawn, it's then that hope seems the hardest to find.
But anyone who has walked through the desert at night knows. Anyone who has been lost in a cavernous labyrinth knows. Anyone who has walked through the ruins of the ancient world only to find themselves stranded and alone knows. When it is darkest, even a small, fragile, flickering light can seem like a supernova.
Cyre bet everything on that hope. He dared to believe that the impossible could be possible. That, against all odds, he would see his brother again.
He wagered his life on the strength that resonates so strongly in his memory.
And with a booming, whispered, furious sentence, it feels as though he'd just won the jackpot.
"L...Leon--" It's an almost comical sight. An enormous creature, half-beast, half-man staggering back with an expression of pure, grinning, foolish disbelief. And yet, there it is. The full fury of the storm unleashed fills the world as Brother Lightning finally stirs. Cyre stands for a moment with arms outstretched as if he were embracing the tempest. Electricity arcs painfully across his body. It hurts. It hurts, but it's a good kind of hurt.
"I'm right behind you," Cyre-Fengalon answers with a roar that is both terrifying and triumphant. "Catenna!" He leaps with all the speed of a tornado ripping across the plains. "I'm going on ahead! Let's give it everything we've got."
Everything.
EVERYTHING.
The Brothers' Storm is unleashed. Lightning dances across the Tiger's fangs as wind whirls over the Lion's claws. Cyre moves blindingly fast, streaking across the wasteland as a streak of emerald violence. The White Tiger threads around the Walking Calamity's wrathful onslaught, carving a jagged line in the space surrounding the Blade Dancer. With each claw strike, crescents of high-pressure wind carve new patterns into the red stone. Each blow is punctuated by a flash of lightning, as the Tiger smashes his prey into the Lion's vengeful thunder.
A legend is being made manifest. This is truly The Brothers' Storm.
GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has activated a Force Action! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has activated a Force Action! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has attacked Sword Dancer with Wrath of the Wind God! GS: Cyre H. Lorentz has completed his action. GS: Sneak! The true nature of Jack Van Burace's attack becomes clear! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Jack Van Burace's Trickster for 148 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Cyre H. Lorentz's Wrath of the Wind God for 185 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Rosaline Calice has posed.
Rosaline watches as the multicolored lights burst down to great effect. But not to decisive effect, as the battle continues to rage on after she's used the one and only trick of any importance up her sleeve. Malevolence worms its way into her mind.
Her sacrifices, meaningless. Her blasphemy, inexcusable.
She has spent this entire battle fearing herself, fearing the monster she knows all too well she can become when fury overtakes her. But that screaming voice has died down. As if it had finally accepted the tragic, pointless absurdity of the world, of existence. It should be a relief. It's not.
She feels... numb.
Numb to everything going on around her, to the heroic efforts, to the solar storm rattling Esdras and Judith at her hips, to the dramatic appearance of a being whose wrath makes hers look like a candle in a bonfire, to the Brothers' Storm. And most importantly, to the lightning streaking towards her.
She casts a shield spell, because in spite of everything, she retains a terribly stubborn streak. But the lightning courses through her, sending her flailing into a nearby building's wall. She cries out in pain, only pulling herself up after a long hesitation. Every moment is torture.
She looks at those closest to her. Those who can still fight.
"I may not be able to do anything... But maybe you can. Please let me help. Holy Sword."
Light bathes the weapons of those chosen few, imbuing them with a potent dose of holy magic.
GS: Rosaline Calice has activated a Force Action! GS: Rosaline Calice has attacked Jacqueline Barber with Holy Sword! GS: Rosaline Calice has attacked Catenna with Holy Sword! GS: Rosaline Calice has attacked Rudy Roughnight with Holy Sword! GS: Rosaline Calice has attacked Avril Vent Fleur with Holy Sword! GS: Rosaline Calice takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Rosaline Calice has completed her action. GS: Catenna takes a solid hit from Rosaline Calice's Holy Sword for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Catenna! GS: Jacqueline Barber takes a solid hit from Rosaline Calice's Holy Sword for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Jacqueline Barber! GS: Catenna has activated a Force Action!
<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.
Catenna holds her spell, but the way Cyre calls out to his brother with such vigour sends a pang of guilt rippling through her. Her stomach tightens as she looks down at herself for a second, swallowing a sudden lump in her throat. She struggles to push it down to the very bottom of her psyche.
She can think later about whether she would be so brave as to reach out to her sisters and brothers that way.
Again comes the stormy wrath of the Golden Lion of Noua Shax, enhanced by the devastating power of Malevolence into something truly frightening. Widening her eyes, Catenna seems to be caught flat-footed -
She pushes her hands out in front of herself and cries out a few words she won't even remember five minutes from now, so urgently do they bubble up from the heart. There's a surge of magic --
And the hot blasts of light suddenly arc around Catenna. The storm distorts bizarrely; the lightning bolts kink impossibly in the air a few metres from her, then bubble out around her as if wrenched across the surface of a distorting globe. Jagged bolts erupt out from that strange lensing effect, scattering into the air, then kinking again and dancing in odd directions, most of them striking inert surfaces and sizzling away.
And as she lets up on that magic, Catenna gasps as Brother Lightning roars back at Cyre in a voice far more lucid than she would ever have guessed.
"Cyre," she calls out, her voice uplifted with a surge of hope. "Leon...!" Darting forward, she dashes towards Cyre's side, that hope giving way to a gasp and a wide-eyed smile as the twisted leo gains enough control of himself to join Cyre in unleashing the storm upon the Sword Dancer.
"Then it can be done," she whispers. "To save someone from Malevolence, even without Sorey...."
Perhaps he's not truly purified; those eyes, while lucid, are still black. Catenna clings to that spark of hope, though. It must be possible... it must be possible to find the soul within one who has become a Hellion and resurface it. If it can't be simply done from without....
Thought escapes her; the Sword Dancer, containing the Statue of Noua Shax, is the most immediate concern. It is not like Leon. It does not have a soul to awaken from within it.
Catenna... pauses.
Rethinks that.
No. It does have a soul... the soul of Noua Shax.
If that is true....
Stepping up beside Cyre, Catenna looks up to him with a small, hopeful smile, her eyes tightening at the outer corners. There's a chance now - she knows that. She must try to deliver. "Anything and everything we have!" she calls back to him.
Her hands cradle her Medium with a loving touch. Cupping it to her chest, the Zortroa priestess begins to chant something in her own language. Her voice is clear, ringing out with a shimmer.
Like crystal chimes, moved by a sweet, loving wind on a moonlit night.
Above Cyre and Leon Lorentz - the Brothers of the Nahual - there is a sudden, shining spark. A sense of pure, serene presence that seems to push the darkness out from around it. That spark spirals upwards, up into the sky -
And from that mote of light, a pair of vast, shining blue butterfly wings flick apart. Between them, there is a mote of light - but within it, for just a moment, one can see the shape of a woman with a complexion much like Catenna's, but with silvery hair, sitting atop a crescent moon laced with the whisper-thin strings of a harp. And then the shape is gone, there only for a second, lasting just long enough to gaze upon the twisted Statue within the Sword Dancer.
But the power levied upon the Dancer is far more than Catenna could muster on her own. An intense gravity resonance begins to build around the Sword Dancer. Gravity seems to want to both pull it into the earth and into the sky. Every atom in the Malevolent monstrosity's body is strained and pulled by the overwhelming double force - that resonance seeking to peel the Sword Dancer's very essence from Noua Shax's statue, even as Cyre and Leon unleash the storm as only the Brothers of the Nahual can unleash it. The power of three Guardians, unleashed at once.
The resonance shimmers with lunar serenity - a touch of divine power, mingling with that of the wind and that of the storm. A second's worth. But Catenna holds it as best she can. Lets that moment of Celesdue's presence suffuse the spell, like a fine perfume, mingling with the power of Noua Shax and Fengalon.
It's a long shot... but perhaps the touch of that much concentrated Guardian magic will be enough to awaken whatever touch of Noua Shax's magic exists within the Statue... to tear the Malevolence from it not only from without, but from within.
GS: Catenna has attacked Sword Dancer with Material - Merciless Queen! GS: Catenna has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Catenna's Material - Merciless Queen for 146 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.
Jacqueline watches the Sword Dancer tear through the battle with its deadly talent. It strikes viciously, without mercy, despite how much punishment was being thrown at it. What force was driving it to continue on, even though it seemed like it wanted to surrender...?
And suddenly, a storm begins to roar around it...vicious and merciless, striking out at anything and everything.
Jacqueline was used to the lightning. ...But it strikes her solidly, forcing her to her knees.
So in the end, as Corwynt had demanded, she did in fact kneel. But...
Just ahead, she sees it.
The still form of one her dear friends, her loyal companion despairing next to her. Her comrade. Jacqueline stares in disbelief.
"K-Kourin...? Kourin!" She shouts, rushing over to the side of the Kinship's quietest member. "Please...please be alright...!"
Her focus, her determination...it seems to be lost, as she rushes to Kourin's side.
And then she sees it. The Sword that heralds the new world, that dispels the darkness... Riesenlied's heart and soul shines brightly. Shining just as brightly, but for different reasons, is Ethius's invocation. A raging fire, as brilliant as the sun, seeks to consume the Sword Dancer...
Somehow, she hears it. Quiet and faint...she hears Rosaline's earnest entreatment.
All of this drives Jacqueline to action.
Bathed in light and harnessing her anguish and her determination, Jacqueline holds out two Crests - Crests of the elements she was most familiar with.
"Kourin...I won't let your sacrifice go to waste!" She shouts.
The two Crests almost seem to be invoked at once. Energy tears at the ground beneath the Sword Dancer, ripping up rock and stone and sending it flying upward along with the skeletal bladedancer...before a vicious storm of lightning crashes from the sky, to force it back down into the ruined earth.
GS: Jacqueline Barber has activated a Force Action! GS: You have activated the Force Action Full Clip! GS: Jacqueline Barber has attacked Sword Dancer with Dualcast - Voltaic Quake! GS: Jacqueline Barber has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Jacqueline Barber's Dualcast - Voltaic Quake for 181 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Ryudo has posed.
Tethered as he is to the Sword Dancer currently, Skye has two choices. One is the sane choice, and that would be to release the energies he is currently maintaining and retreat to a safe distance. Second is the mildly suicidal choice. Noting the crumbling of the statue...the weakening of the forces that bound its original being, even as they seek to fight back against the dark Malevolence that turns its existence toward other ends...the wind spirit comes to a decision.
These chicks are starting to rub off on me.
Caught as he is at ground zero of the storm, Ryudo does the sensible thing. Clutching his sword to his chest, he drops to the ground and rolls sideways to gain what little distance he can. And there he curls into a ball. Rather than give in to fear, he simply seeks to minimize what surface area his body offers until the storm fizzles out. And so was the plan, until he hears...
"Ryud...o! Be...rea~dy...!" Lifting his head, the youth is horrified to see that Skye has _not_ released the energies that tether him to the sword dancer. Nay. As the Sword Dancer floats, and as the wind spirit risks frying himself by maintaining the proximity, he sees the opportunity for victory.
"When I said no heroics the other day, that included you too bird..."
Rising to his knee, Ryudo grimaces at the anger in his breast. Is everyone determined to get themselves killed this week? But at the same time, he too sees the opportunity that Skye has in mind. There is only one thing that his partner expects of him, and it would be a waste of this sacrifice to do anything but deliver on his end of the bargain.
"Tenseiken..."
A sight that is becoming familiar to those with whom he has traveled lately. The Geohound wraps both hands around the grip of his sword, bending low, arms extending behind him while curling around his torso. His body becomes a taut spring. But this time, there is a subtle difference. As Ryudo's body continues to concort on itself in this fashion, it becomes very clear that he has no intention -- or ability -- to advance on the Sword Dancer in this sword form.
"HaaaAaaAaaaaaaaaaaAaaaHh...!!"
The answer to the riddle lies in Skye himself. Heedless to the harm he is placing himself in, the hawk hauls the abomination toward Ryudo. Every muscle of the avian's body is screaming out in agony, and were he not wiser he would swear every feather covering his body is on fire. But if he fails here, he will have failed the planet that birthed him. More often than not he travels with the Geohound for that fool chick's sake, but today he does this for himself. And Ryudo knows that this is owed to him.
The mercenary's entire body unwinds in the vicious arc of Tenseiken, the moisture and muck alike rippling away from the blade and limbs that grip it as the youth's entire body executes upon the strike it has been comitted to, seeking to smash the parasitic skull gracing the Guardian Statue. The energy tethers fizzle shortly afterward as the hawk crumples to the ground and tumbles under his own momentum.
If Ryudo is lucky, the Sword Dancer will continue past him before the combined arsenals of those gathered here converge on him and anhilliate his very existence.
GS: Ryudo has attacked Sword Dancer with Flying Tenseiken! GS: Ryudo has completed his action.
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
Noeline was prepared for a retaliation, of course. You don't just yell and scream your defiance at a time like this without expecting something in return, and despite the way her legs are shaking and quivering, she still sets her scythe in preparation as the storm begins to bear down on her, gritting her teeth as she watches the wave of Malevolence descend towards them.
It is all she can do to keep standing, and even then it's a serious overstatement of what she actually manages; her knees buckle as she drops, her grip on her weapon's haft the only thing that stops her from impacting against the ground. A strangled cry escaped her for a moment, and a bright cut of white slices across her hand whre she's gripped onto her blade - but as per her cry, she does not go down. Not yet.
Not even as she feels Riesenlied torn away from her side. Not even as she feels Ethius' spell rocket through the air around them. Especially not when she rebels against the power, forcing herself slowly back up to her feet. Above all else, she has always prided herself on taking her own path - on not being bound by the Photosphere's stance, but forging her own way through the world, even now at Riesenlied's side. So she stands.
Fluid obscures the vision of one eye; she's quivering, even as she helps haul her partner up to her feet, not yet trusting herself to really be able to speak. It's a necessary respite, if only for a moment, and it gives her time to bask in the light of Riesenlied's sword, to let its light suffuse her for a moment. It is no healing burst, nor even really a call to arms - but Noeline meets it anyway, turning towards the broken, twisted creature above them with a final exhalation of breath as she draws her scythe back.
"... one more time, then," she mutters with some quiet satisfaction, vaguely registering the Ebony Wings getting the last of the villagers out of immediate danger. This time, rather than try anything fancy with the Guardian's power - sure she'd be ripped apart by the attempt - she simply heaves forwards, sending her scythe slicing through the air in the Sword Dancer's direction. "I said--!" she summons up the yell, despite the way her throat roars in protest. "--I'm not done yet!"
GS: Noeline has attacked Sword Dancer with Stinging Rebuke! GS: Noeline has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Noeline's Stinging Rebuke for 115 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Ryudo's Flying Tenseiken for 168 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has Fallen! It is no longer able to fight!
<Pose Tracker> Rudy Roughnight has posed.
The sounds of battle make it hard to understand people at times. The fact that Emma, his 'slightly' older sister, confuses Rudy more than most makes it even harder. "Yes, I put on my deodorant this morning! I don't why it's important right now!" he replies as he replaces the cartridge in his ARM with movements of muscle reflex, his brown eyes taking in the battle with the Hellions within the town, trying to parse the chaos as best he can. The temptation for the young man to go toward where the innocents seem to be suffering is large but the words of Cecilia bring him back toward the Sword Dancer conflict once more.
A simple nod is given and Rudy reorients himself back toward the battle. A slightly worried glance is given toward the blonde swordsman. But again, he doesn't request further information on WHY he was asked to look after Jack.
Instead, Roughnight has a simple request to fulfill: 'Do everything you can!'
The left forearm of Rudy begins to glow bright blue, symbols of an unknown language or crest appearing upon it as he bring it forward, as if channeling power. The Hand Cannon twirls about in his right hand, being leveled right for the massive monster. He doesn't offer it any retort, as speaking with monsters is nothing but a waste of breath to the young warrior.
But right before he fire the shot, the magic tears right through Rudy the electricity hitting him with enough force to send him to one knee. But the weapon still remains trained onto his foe, he plans to still launch the shot.
Then something strangt occurs. The Solar Storm tears through, causing Rudy to lurch forward. He isn't harmed directly by the attack, but as the wave of energy hits him, he feels sick to his stomach as if his body was briefly at war with himself. He loses focus of his attack and the weapon itself jams. Which has never happened to Rudy before. There is a brief pause of confusion, but then as Roughnight recovers something else odd happens. He knows exactly what to do.
Moving with the same mysterious knowledge he had when he first used the weapon as a child, Rudy takes out the round and swiftly reloads, moving swiftly despite the nausea. But when he finishes, he finds the strength to stand once more, his ARM leveled and unleashing a powerful explosive shell. Regardless if the blast hits Sword Dancer or not, the blast from the ARM attack is impressive, and for those that know Rudy far more powerful than he has ever done. Is it just the ARM upgrades from Emma or others ARM techs Or something else entirely?
Either way, Rudy doesn't notice, his attention instead on his friend. Of course, Jack is using the same sort of tactics that Rudy himself would use, but with far different emotions behind them. While he doesn't speak often, now the word comes easy and reflexively out of compassion for one of the few people who took him in regardless of who he was.
"Jack!"
GS: Rudy Roughnight takes a solid hit from Rosaline Calice's Holy Sword for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Rudy Roughnight! GS: Rudy Roughnight has attacked Sword Dancer with Boosted Shell! GS: Rudy Roughnight takes 6 damage from Poison! GS: Rudy Roughnight has completed his action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Rudy Roughnight's Boosted Shell for 67 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has Fallen! It is no longer able to fight! GS: Sword Dancer enters CONDITION GREEN!!
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
In the midst of that incantation of Ethius', Riesenlied feels--
--no, she hears those words... the incantation that she has heard before, at the fairgrounds of Adlehyde. To call upon a star that enables the patterns of life itself...
... but... what is she, if not life?
The grand incantation seems to remind her of that harsh truth.
You are a machine.
Riesenlied's senses begin to rattle -- her eyes start to distort as she trembles, her fingertips starting to contort has her body seems confused as to whether she should be whole... or of photonic particles.
A machine does not need feelings.
"I--eghnn--"
Cetiri braces against the electromagnetic pulse, seemingly much more hardened; she exclaims once more, "Daughter!"
But mercifully, the spell passes, and gives relief against the blow of the grand spell whose effects have no passed, and Riesenlied's form begins to coalesce solidly once more... and she slumps onto her knees and falls to one side. Her wings fold slowly, held only by the currents of warm air they catch...
A machine does not need empathy.
"No----Noe--linëÔVíûaÏîâ)]sfÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆ
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
Ida smells ozone midway through her swing. Her eyes widen. She twists on a heel, leaps off the colossal skeleton's shoulderblade seconds before a crackling aura of violet erupts from something within. The statue? It's impossible to tell. It follows Ida as she falls through the air, as if she were a lightning rod for the despair it's emitting. A bolt of lightning races for her heart, packing enough voltage to stop it, instantly. Wouldn't she like it if it just stopped? She'd just lose consciousness and die in the mud, where she belongs.
NO.
It's instinctual. Ida thrusts forth her gauntleted hand, chi boiling off her entire right arm as if being vented from ports on the gauntlet. Lightning meets with Ida's own lifeforce, and lightning loses. Ida's hand jitters a little as some of the charge makes it through her defenses, racing along metal plates and through her skin. Fingers clench into a fist, as if she just squeezed the life from the lightning. The residual charge would make her hair stand on end if it weren't a single, long tangle, slicked back against her.
Then she glances around, a quick look to ascertain everyone's positions--and sees Jack impaled on the Sword Dancer's blade, just as she was. She didn't even see it happen. How could she? How could she care about someone else?
"Jack!" Ida screams. He's pulling out the blade, he's going to be no that is absolutely not all right. The only mercy is that Ethius's blinding solar fire--and Id's massive plasma shockwave, which Ida knows all too well--force her to look away. The spots fade. The Sword Dancer still stands, impossibly.
If they couldn't stop this thing, no one can. Stop. Just stop.
Ida does not stop. The moment she sees an opening in the chaotic swirl, she takes it, rage speeding her steps across the muddy plain. She is bleeding. She is soaked to the bone. She would be trembling from the cold if she weren't furiously stoking her own inner fire to stave off hypothermia. She reaches the Sword Dancer's spine as it recoils, and draws back a fist. Golden-white motes float upwards from her skin, flitting like fireflies in the tailwind Cyre is leaving behind. Her face is a rictus of rage, but really, this is more of a mercy killing.
Ida strikes somewhere between the fourth and fifth lumbar, if a beast like this truly follows human anatomy. It's an uppercut, a blow that causes the air to reverberate with a shockwave afterwards. She's trying to blow the Sword Dancer into the air. Ida springs up after it, leaving a contrail of flickering chi after her as she whips up and around, dropping down on top of the descending Sword Dancer. Her heel catches bone. She falls with it, driving it down towards the soupy, muddy earth below.
There's something deeply ironic in this, thinks Ida.
GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has attacked Sword Dancer with School of the Demon Fist! GS: Ida Everstead-Rey has completed her action.
<Pose Tracker> Cecilia Adlehyde has posed.
There's a lot to worry about right now, but her primary focus is on the TERRIFYING ELECTRIC DEATH. She thrusts her staff forth, another shield forming. Her feet skid and her teeth grind, but....in this moment, her heart is set. She sees Jack and-- "JACK!" she screams, but she can't even move from her spot as Jack's darkness thickens. "Damn it...damn you! Rudy! Please! I can't--!"
The storm finally releases her, she forces the last of it aside; and Cecilia turns to see Jack...more or less taking care of himself. ...OK cool because she has work to do. She'll give Jack attention later. Yes definitely. Power blossoming out, exploding in every conceivable light and form...
She reaches for her Mediums. "I won't allow this to continue," she says, finally. "Release the statue! Release these people! GET OUT OF HERE! MATERIAL!"
The icon she presents is not Schturdark's. An icon like jagged claws...the Gale Claw!
"Hi-Speed Ripper!"
From the Medium's core an explosive funnel cloud, a lateral tornado whirling and screaming forth to rip up the ground, tear apart all obstruction - and resolving into the great form of the Wind Tiger himself, Fengallon leaping across distance and bringing one massive, ripping claw down upon the abomination abducting a perfectly good statue.
The fact that there's another incarnation of Fengalon right now does not appear to weaken the power of either; the Shaman's summons is beyond such trifles.
GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has activated a Force Action! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has attacked Sword Dancer with Material - Hi-Speed Ripper! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde takes 8 damage from Poison! GS: Cecilia Adlehyde has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Ida Everstead-Rey's School of the Demon Fist for 76 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has Fallen! It is no longer able to fight! GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Cecilia Adlehyde's Material - Hi-Speed Ripper for 90 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has Fallen! It is no longer able to fight!
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
Noeline's hurling of her scythe isn't just a last-ditch, desperate attack - it's also the safest way she's got of doing a hit-and-run, flinging her weapon away before she actually goes to ground in preparation for the after-pulse of the solar quake. Instinctively, she knows it's not going to be good - and she shudders as the shockwave washes over her, feeling parts of her consciousness churn and boil at the sensation.
It hurts, but it's managable; she's hardened against that much, after all. She's not quite so Tainted as many of the Tainted - and, she realizes with a sudden vibrant spike of fear - more ready for this than Riese is.
"--Riese!" she blurts as she flings herself aside, doing her best to catch the falling woman; her own strength is barely sufficient to hold her up, and it's with a sudden burst of frantic motion that she looks up to see the gigantic creature of Malevolence, the form still encompassing the crumbling statue-- slowly fall towards the ground, still beset by attacks.
She may live by her own rules, but she also knows when to get out of a situation.
"--Ebony Wings! Report! Is everyone on board?! If so, we're withdrawing to get them clear!" she decides over their link, her orders clipped and rapid. She's in no state to face the Trial Knight in the aftermath, and she's well aware that losing Riesenlied... isn't an option, not at a time like this when the Ebony Wings need all the morale they can get. She looks to Cetiri, tight-lipped, and then back to her communications. "--just out of the Malevolent zone!"
<Pose Tracker> Xantia has posed.
The Sword Dancer of course doesn't wait for Id to stop being the center of Xantia's attention. Lightning ripples through her body as is the case for most present. Though the sensation visibly causes her severe discomfort, she remains on her feet, and recovers from the shock quite quickly - finding herself significantly resistant to its effects thanks to the lightning already coursing through her body, courtesy of Noua Shax. Where lightning of despair clashes with lightning of hope, the result is apparently an impasse.
Or perhaps the reason why she manages to fight off its effects is because she must. Because she's standing face to face with a man who she knows could kill her easily should she show any weakness. Someone who she feels she should give her attention to above all else. Above the Sword Dancer. Above the Trial Knight. Above the Hellions. Above the villagers still in peril. Though it's not something she's thinking about right now, later she may question if this is what it's like to be... obsessed. For reasons that she doesn't even know herself.
Okay.
That single, simple word causes her heart to skip a beat. Id accepted her challenge, and it makes her feel... elated. A feeling that passes quickly, because no time is wasted in sending an attack her way. Id's right in front of her. There's no way she can dodge whatever's coming. So she doesn't try. She stands her ground, swings her bracer in front of her for all the good that will do, and digs in her heels.
The plasma blast is large enough to quickly obscure her from vision entirely, and continue on towards the Sword Dancer unabated, like she wasn't even in the way. But it's too early to consider her incinerated. Vision-blocking attacks have a way of clearing to reveal a person still standing there, alive and well, like nothing hit them.
That's not exactly the case where Xantia's concerned. She is still there, alive, but no longer standing, and far from well. Her dug-in heels have caused a significantly deep track where she slid backwards, driven to her knees which are bloody from sliding across the ground also, clothes partially torn and skin slightly blackened... but she is alive, letting out a breath as the energy dissipates. Noua Shax's lightning still arches across her body, perhaps playing a significant part in the reason why she's still in one piece. She coughs. Once, twice... and then she smiles.
With a sudden, bestial growl, she leaps forward from her crouched position, reaching her previous position directly in front of Id with impossible speed, and throws a single punch in his direction. A punch containing everything she has left, discharging the lightning from her body in an explosion of energy. Whatever the result, her landing isn't graceful, ending up flat on her face, unmoving. She literally gave it everything she had left. Was it worth it? Apparently, she thought so.
GS: Xantia has attacked Id with Thunderstruck! GS: Xantia takes 10 damage from Poison! GS: Xantia has completed her action. GS: Avril Vent Fleur takes a solid hit from Rosaline Calice's Holy Sword for 0 hit points! GS: Hyper! Statuses applied to Avril Vent Fleur!
<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.
A ring of lightning erupts from the Sword Dancer, and it catches Dean as surely as it catches nearly everyone in its silent wake. Dean howls in pain, doubling over, nearly falling back into the mud, but this time he manages to brace himself, to at least remain on his feet. Teeth grit, entire body aching, lungs burning, he rasps for air. He's got... to get... to Fei! Or whoever the red guy is! If it's Fei, he's absolutely got to stop him--and if it isn't, he can't let him interfere, anyway! Corwynt and Xantia might both engage Id, drawing his blows, but--still!
Healing energy surges through his body then, soothing some of his wounds and knitting the worst bruises on his chest and ribs, letting him breathe easy again. He looks to the source and sees Avril, and smiles warmly at his friend for the second he can spare before determination sets in and he turns back towards Id. That delay meant that Id's attacks don't fire off close enough to hurt him, but he's still got to get this under control--except at the same time, Ethius casts his spell, and Twin Fenrir in his hands give a sudden jolt, then vibrate violently before vanishing from his grip. Startled and stunned, Dean reaches out for them, seeking them, willing them to appear like they always do--
Nothing.
For the time being, Twin Fenrir is lost to him. When the interference passes, no doubt he'll be able to call it up again, but as far as Dean knows, his ARMs are lost... possibly forever.
But he made a promise.
So--
"KNOCK IT OFF!"
And that would be Dean, unarmed, rushing in after Xantia attacks Id with everything she's got left and collapses for her efforts, attempting to clamber on top of the infamous Demon of Elru like a kitten onto a tiger, and latch onto his neck and back. It's not an attack; not really. It's more like an attempt to get the attention of someone who is capable of casually unleashing an IMMENSE amount of power.
Whether he's able to or not, Dean grunts, "You're Fei, right?! C'mon, get ahold of yourself! Calm down!" With the effort he's putting in, his voice is low enough that only Id would be able to hear, though this isn't on purpose.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
"As near as we'll get, at this point," Jedan is the first to answer Noeline, as effectively the next-most-senior up as far as these matters are concerned. He tugs at the reins and makes a wave towards the others, tossing the slagged remnants of his sniper rifle aside.
The Ebony Wings' Dragons rise towards the skies in the fallout of the strike of lightning, assisting in moving those that they've sheltered out of the way. "We're just about full up here, and I don't see anyone still in need!" Devet hollers as she gives a salute.
Cetiri stares towards Noeline for a moment, then nods as she says, "Let's get her out of here..."
<Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.
"Gwen..."
Stay with me, Gwen, Avril thinks fleetingly. Her free hand briefly grips Gwen's arm tightly before she withdraws.
Id is here. She can see him as he walks the battlefield.
She can see Dean run right for him. "Dean--"
The sudden upwell of terror she feels now shouldn't be a surprise. And yet, a part of her wonders at it.
There's no chance of her crossing the field from here, no way to intercede. She stretches out a hand.
There are other things that can reach, however. The connection, however invisible, crosses the impossible gulf. Dean, at least, is not wholly unprepared for the force of destruction standing before him.
Meanwhile, the storm brews.
To dodge out of the way now would be to leave Gwen to her fate, whatever it might be. Blade angled in a diagonal guard, Avril plants her feet firmly and waits, holding her ground. Guardians, be with them now.
"We must finish this," she says aloud, finishing the statement. Even one more statue lost is too many. There's still a chance--
Lightning strikes. A blade is little use in defending against the storm. Yet, be it divine intervention or her will, Avril stands once the cascade ends, her stance since faltered, blade lowered. She exhales a hard-edged breath.
She's still standing.
Somewhere above, Avril is aware of a beam of light.
It's well-timed, appearing on the stage just moments before the brilliant light of Rosaline's benediction reaches her. "Ah... this light..."
Then follows the flame.
Flame chews its way down from the skies. The brilliance is dazzling, forcing Avril to look away.
The first thing that happens in the wake of its descent is a shudder of electrical discharge down the length of Absolute Zero's blade. The sword edge fades in and out in a flicker, before a sharp crackle marks its complete disappearance.
Avril attempts to resummon the sword, her hand twisting in a minute manner, all to no avail. In abject disbelief, she stares at her ARM, then, perhaps growing somewhat desperate, pulls the trigger.
Nothing happens.
"Something's happened... was it that spell? I..." She pulls it again, angling it before her as if she were about to fall into a charge should the blade or beam whip come forth. "Please... Absolute Zero..."
There's an ominous 'click' instead.
Just before electricity crackles about the 'guard' of the malfunctioning ancient ARM and a burst of pure white light lances forth in a beam, shooting straight across the battlefield for the Sword Dancer.
This is precisely the moment Dean attacks Id.
Avril pushes the malfunctioning ARM into Gwen's hands then breaks away from the younger woman in an all-out dash.
Forget can't reach. Forget the distance.
"DEAN--!!"
Out comes the Medium, an ancient piece of artificial sorcery. It should not be functioning right now, should it?
And yet, it shines. The vague impression of a rising tidal wall might be had, the trace manifestation of Lucadia's blessing descending upon Dean. "Don't you touch him!"
GS: Avril Vent Fleur has activated a Force Action! GS: Avril Vent Fleur has attacked Sword Dancer with Absolute Zero - sURge OVerChArGE! GS: Avril Vent Fleur has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a glancing hit from Avril Vent Fleur's Absolute Zero - sURge OVerChArGE for 97 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has Fallen! It is no longer able to fight! GS: Id guards a hit from Xantia's Thunderstruck for 136 hit points!
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
There's nothing.
Frea, dear Frea, lying weak in her bed, wasting away.
Gwen was supposed to die first. She was supposed to have the blessing of dying with a family, feeling loved, even if Frea wasn't the sort to act like her be
She's so startled by Jack's stabbing, as well as his limp form falling in the mud nearby, that she almost misses the spell's name called by Ethius's crisp voice. She only gets halfway through Jack's name before the straight lines of light extend from Ethius's body.
"JAC-...gk...!" The world suddenly goes crooked. Gwen's ARM curls and jerks in random patterns, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Why is her ARM acting up *now*?" She just needs to concentrate, breathe, and-
Hold onto Avril's flower. "U-uh-..." Gwen looks at the malfunctioning ARM then back towards the departing pale-haired woman. Damnitdamnitsdamnit
She has enough sense of mind to switch Absolute Zero to her left hand, but her own ARM still refuses to cooperate.
The sleeve catches, tears, and rips into pieces, revealing spines, like off a line of vertebrae, tearing through the fabric and glove.
She can't breathe.
The ARM fires, still bent to her will, of her will, but struggling under the scrambled connection.
A few steps forward, and Gwen allows herself to fall into the embrace of the earth, her ARM jerking, but slowly returning back to its normal, far more humanoid form.
"...." Just keep breathing. Like a lucky charm, her hand grips Avril's sword.
Think about how it's good that you were here.
GS: Gwen Whitlock has attacked Sword Dancer with Mockingbird - DiSTorTeD CAL1! GS: Gwen Whitlock has completed her action. GS: Sword Dancer takes a solid hit from Gwen Whitlock's Mockingbird - DiSTorTeD CAL1 for 54 hit points! GS: Sword Dancer has Fallen! It is no longer able to fight!
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
Aloft and unmoving, the Sword Dancer conducts its own storm. The quagmire that Wehaca has become under its influence seems to respond to its call -- as if the land itself was its to command through the sheer elemental power of its despair. Mud rises, quivers, makes strange and unknowable structures out of itself before collapsing. Fires spark and snuff under the rain. The lightning from the skies crashes down violently along the landscape, ripping into it, blasting back anyone who dares to get too close.
And slowly, the statue crumbles. Bits of it break off, dissipating into the nothingness that ensconces it. Slowly... but surely. Inevitably, one might say.
If they did not have the hope to see this through to its very end.
What is cowardice? ...
Ida comes. She beats into the Sword Dancer, still aloft in the air. She drives it further up, and with the swing of her heel, she drives it downward... but they never quite reach the earth. It's like there is a net there, holding it in one specific place. The net may strain... but it simply rebounds back into place. And as the Dancer slows in place, one large, skeletal arm lifts. Wraps around Ida. Draws her close.
What... can you do...? You are... fuel to the fire... Tinder... for the burning...
Its jaw unhinges limply. And its hand lifts. To drag her towards the eroding nothingness of its jaw...
... when the Solar Storm comes. Contrails of cosmic flame come of so many dizzying hues, enveloping the Sword Dancer within its bubbling, searing warmth. Bone splinters, the statue within bakes. Pieces of it simply char towards ash. But it holds, even as the Dancer bubbles and melts within that heat, even as it sighs out amidst the burning storm, its breath a cold huff amidst the star's churn.
Fear... must... puppet...
The whispers become blurringly incomprehensible, a wealth of grasping sorrow, chaotic jumbles of thoughts that reach out helplessly. And through it, the Guardians come. Fengalon at the beck and call of Cecilia, Celesdue at the will of Catenna. Winds join the storm that Cyre and his brother conjure as Fengalon drives that rending claw into the Hellion riding the statue of Noua Shax, -ripping- bone apart. Gravitic power tenses and compresses upon the Dancer, drawing deep within to the statue inside. It cannot inspire rejection of the creature riding it -- not exactly -- but the resistance it conjures is enough to keep the Dancer pinned, keep it from lashing out -- and causes a stuttering hesitation in the malevolent maelstrom it has begun to whip forth.
It gives the others the opening they need. The light from Riesenlied, luminous and bright, counteracting the oppressive futility of the Sword Dancer, disrupting it further, sending a hideous shudder through crumbling bone. It bends to its left, limply... and it is precisely then that Avril's overcharged, malfunctioning arm goes off in a crackling BURST of unstable light, puncturing it clean through its midsection. Its spine separates. Two pieces of the Dancer float, helpless, within its own tempest -- leaving it defenseless to the Tenseiken, bound and bisected as it is. The blade CRUSHES into the skull of the Sword Dancer, carving more pieces of it free to expose more of the statue beneath. Malevolence hisses smokey vapors from its abused cranium -- and that hiss grows all the more profoundly relieved as Noeline -carves- off another one of its arms, sending another blade CRASHING into the ground with a hellacious splash to preface a -third- blown off by Gwen and Rudy's ARMs acting in concert, sending the limb with the Solarian sword flying. All that remains? The one holding that lion's blade.
And that is precisely when it is introduced to the Brothers' Storm.
Lightning rides along the winds of the Tiger as Cyre blitzes the remains of the Blade Dancer. Claws cleave, each one a thunderous boom heralding a fresh bolt of lightning that lights up the space surrounding the Sword Dancer blindingly. It grows towards a crescendo, driving more and more of the Sword Dancer away. A legend made manifest. Saving the statue of Wehaca seconds before its total collapse. The storm rages higher. The Dancer reaches out, towards Cyre, with its free hand, limb quaking...
*flash*
have you... the strength... to free...
And it is the edge of its own black blade, in the hands of a new master, that stops it cold.
There is no bright hope in the act. Just cold certainty. Icy rage. Jack is a flash that sweeps past Cyre as the head of the Dancer is cleaved from its shoulders. A second passes, as Jack lands. The Dancer's head tilts.
And then its skull falls, limply, as the Storm tears the rest of it asunder. And as Jack falls, a voice whispers in the back of his skull,
I am...
before silence overtakes, and the black blade is nowhere to be found.
Eventually, the glow of the storm fades. And in the end? All that remains is the statue, crashing into the swampy mire. Battered, crumbled... but still intact. Saved.
But the Malevolence persists. The storm rages. The Sword Dancer's skull lingers, rolled helpless on the ground, sighing a sad sigh.
my... blade... rusted... we found... lost soul...
It must be purified. The land must be freed, the statue sealed.
But save for the Malevolence itself, there is no more resistance to be found.
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
"The difference between true strength and power is naught that the untrained eye can see. And yet... there is no comparison."
They love it, don't they? Having something to blame? The Trial Knight's head tilts. They watch Id for a moment, as if seeking to glean something in his words, in his actions. In everything.
"Ever has there been a scapegoat. 'Tis the nature of man. Just as the scapegoat itself is of man." Fingers spasm within white gauntlets as the storm rages. As the Dancer begins to crumble. As the statue begins to free itself.
"There are few things more human in this world. And fewer strengths more profound than overcoming it."
Id grows bright. He -punctures- past Xantia. Past the Sword Dancer as it sustains so much abuse. Pure, unrelenting power. All of it bearing towards K.K.. Buildings burn. Destruction sings. The Trial Knight has barely a second's time to lift their hand--
--and the brilliance of that big bang is blinding as it collides with something bleak and black and PULSATING with a dissonance Id finds so much in common with.
The difference between the force that confronts Id's titanic assault and the Sword Dancer is like night and day. Overwhelming. Oppressive. It sucks up the vaporous Malevolence, turns it to its use to create a massive barrier between Id and the Trial Knight. It cracks. Splinters. Shatters as the knight is drive back, punched through the shrine into the muck of the mire.
But they still stand in the aftermath, body smoking, helmet cracking.
Holding a strange, crystal orb in their hand pulsating with anomalous miht that seems to suck upon the Malevolence in the area like an overfed sponge. To anyone who was at the Baskar Sacred Grounds, this thing is unmistakable: the artifact that caused all that distortion in the first place. That dragged all that Malevolence to Wehaca.
And it rests, comfortable, in the palm of K.K.'s hand, gripped taut as if it belonged there. Drawing Malevolence... even as they themselves seem almost untouched by it.
"... Power, then," they murmur, almost half to themself. "Then this is not to be my end." Their helmet cracks down its center, spidering paths. They turn towards the statue, to the fallen Dancer. That orb turns.
It could infuse the statue with enough Malevolence to make it burst. THe Knight could strike it down, as Xantia and Dean assault Id. So many things.
"..."
And yet?
And yet... the Trial Knight turns, back to the Drifter defenders of Wehaca...
...disappearing in a radiant shimmer of light without a word as that helmet begins to crack apart.
O B J E C T I V E
Complete!!
<Pose Tracker> Sword Dancer has posed.
In the aftermath, some things become readily apparent. For one, as the Brothers' Storm fades, as that fleeting moment of teamwork, of hope, passes...
... Leon Lorentz is nowhere to be found.
The other Hellions have fled as well. Some villagers were injured in the process; some will need care. But they are safe, within the protection of the Ebon Wings.
And amongst them, as they are ushered off, a small child smiles as she pulls free a beautiful crystal ball from her rain-soaked robes. It shimmers radiantly, like something sprung forth from the heavens...
... turning towards every shade of color in the spectrum in a way all too familiar by those who might recognize something similar, found in the ruins of Lahan...
B O N U S O B J E C T I V E
Complete!!
<Pose Tracker> Id has posed.
Id watches the energy leave his hands. He turns a palm back so that it's facing his own face. Why is there still a town. He put the right amount of energy in it, didn't he? He frowns at his own two hands.
Xantia strikes! She moves fast. She moves so fast even Id can't entirely keep up with her movements. He has to admit it, but he's impressed but much like his chi blast, he knows there's going to be something missing in the strike. Everything she has is all well and good, but there's still something missing in her strike that minimizes its potential destructive power. If Id were to hazard a guess, it'd be something similar to what was missing from his own chi blast that meant the difference between Xantia standing and Xantia being vaporized. The chi's power was great but he simply let it leave his hand. That's not enough. Chi energy pushing through his enemies isn't what he should be doing, he should be pushing it INTO them so it boils them alive. Why didn't he do that? Xantia falls down on her own and Id doesn't attack her. Instead he reaches down towards her fallen form, raises his hand as if to strike and--
--he headpats her, once.
Almost immediately after, Dean's voice is helpfully muffled further by Id's hand which reaches up to grab Dean by the mouth. Id lifts Dean off of him and twists him around so he can get a good look at the guy.
"My name is Id. You've got the wrong guy." Id says, as if clarifying. "Die."
Sometimes doing the stupid thing is stupid, it seems. Id sure thinks Cyre is stupid, for example, and certainly thinks what Dean is doing is stupid, but a little bit of stupidity can easily become resolve as the world bends around your will.
Ever has there been a scapegoat. There are few things more human in this world. And fewer strengths more profound than overcoming it
Why is he thinking of THAT now?
He squeezes Dean's neck as he watches the Trial Knight disappear. A bit more understanding creeps into the demon's thoughts. Is his fate his own?
Well being too inquisitive about others isn't in Id's nature whether it be the farmer next door or one of the greater threats facing Filgaia. Id wonders why he's no longer squeezing. Has stupidity gotten so infectious already?
No.
The Ice Queen delivered a royal edict. The barrier protects Dean but it does more than that, maybe unexpected even to Avril herself. Ice ripples out from the barrier and rapidly expands past Id's hand and alongside his arm. He lets Dean drop and observes this with a strange clinical detachment.
"I knew it." He says, mostly to himself as the ice continues to travel up his body.
He gives one last look to Cyre. It seems he has avoided a dark fate. He turns around and Id's frozen arm bursts into flames. The flames dance along the ice and only slowly work at melting it away.
"Guess you won." He says to nobody in particular. "But you always do at first."
And then he flies off in a single bound...to where? Who knows.
<Pose Tracker> Jack Van Burace has posed.
Jack Van Burace lies in the mud. Face turned to one side. Compleatly ignorant of the storms raging around him. His breathing is steady even as blood soaking the back of his drifter's coat. His arms still lie where she falls. One thrust out ahead of him, the other pinned under him.
And Gwen ontop of him.
Hanpan franticly moves between the pair of them. Looking for healing potions and bandages, making sure neither die in the muck. While berating Jack for his foolishness as he goes. Non-stop chatter keeping the wind mouse centered.
Jack's hand moves under him, fingers clutch at something fallen in the mud under him. Unconciously they snake around a small talisman. An amulet, cracked down the middle, blacked by soot and fire. The symbol of his fallen knighthood clutched despritly in one hand.
And he dreams.
They are not pleasent.
<Pose Tracker> Rose has posed.
It's done. It's done and she's still standing and conscious. Rose lets out a deep sigh, even though she's not sure her legs can handle the pressure of that much air in her lungs. Air is heavy, right now.
Yet she can't rest.
"Rose, this is where I'd tell Sorey we can't just leave the Malevolence to spread, but... are you sure you..."
"Give me some credit, I'm still up, aren't I?" Rose says, weakly.
"Alright, but no blaming me for your upcoming bedcation." Mikleo says.
"No promises," Rose replies.
The Squire raises her massive bow upward, pointing it at the sky. "Alright, here we go! SUCK IT, MALEVOLENCE!"
"Not the words I'd have picked but..."
From the bow, a column of purifying blue light fires upward into the sky - and then it shimmers. Great tendrils of water reach around, planting into the land like extractors. Malevolence starts being drained out of the land, out of the Sword Dancer's remains, the vile mist bubbling up where the water touches the earth - threateningly.
The water starts turning purple and brown. Rose falls to one knee, and her arm quakes, unable to keep the bow up and straight. The Malevolence gains more and more ground, stalking up the watery tendrils like a deadly smoke.
A great silver and blue fire attempts to burn in the heart of the azure pillar, but it isn't starting up. It's not spreading down the tendrils.
<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.
Jacqueline's sorcery, a symphony of spells, comes to an end. She exhales, and watches as the others also pour everything they have into the Sword Dancer, to push it back...
...To free the Statue within. And, despite all odds, they succeed.
The storm still rages. The Malevolence still persists. Jacqueline stares up at the Trial Knight...who holds in their hand an Orb that is very familiar. She had nearly approached it...but had been unable to do anything about it.
And yet, like that, they're gone.
The adrenaline that was keeping Jacqueline going all this time fades and she topples backward into the mud. In any other situation she'd be concerned about this, but right now...right now she is far too tired to deal with it.
She shuts her eyes and breathes in a deep sigh for a moment...
And then, she feels it. A purifying sensation sweeping over her, cleansing her of the Malevolence-tinged liquid that had been stuck to her, from her Ordeal.
"Thanks, Rose..." Jacqueline manages to get out. And then, knowing her job is not yet done either, she forces herself to sit up.
"Is there anyone in immediate need of medical attention?" Jacqueline asks. She can't see things clearly from her position here. Hopefully someone would speak up on behalf of the wounded, if they couldn't do it themselves...
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
'What... can you do...? You are... fuel to the fire... Tinder... for the burning...'
Ida ended up in the mud at some point, face turned to the side, so still she looks like she might be dead. She's more tired than... she's ever felt. The rest of the world has effectively ceased to exist. The Sword Dancer's words to her echo in the back of her mind.
She rises, inch by agonizing inch. The only physical wound on her is the shallow gash down her left arm, but she feels... beaten. Drained in ways she hasn't felt since Dean and Avril found her in Wayside. Ida lifts her head and looks around, rain-slick hair falling into her eyes. She sees moving shapes in the corners of her vision, but mostly Rose. Ida starts walking towards the epicenter of the Squire's ritual, her shoulders slumped, her boots sloshing. It's like she's moving on autopilot towards the nearest source of absolution.
<Pose Tracker> Cyre H. Lorentz has posed.
There's a visceral sort of satisfaction in feeling the Sword Dancer being torn apart in one's very own claws. It's the pleasure of a predator killing its prey and the vindicator shattering the ill omen. The Nahual follows the corrupted statue as it falls to the earth, its strength briefly buoying it to protect it from the rigors of amplified gravity.
Two demons stare at the beast. The tiger looks back at them, at the white knight and the red devil, and gives a final, victorious roar.
It's then that the Squire attempts to do as she is meant to do. But... Can't. There's still something wrong. The storm is still raging. The land is still soaked in poison, in spite of the Trial Knight disappearing with a majority of that malevolent energy. The Nahual looks to its hands as he allows the transformation to come undone. Cyre emerges from the great beast as the form of the White Tiger falls away in a cloud of emerald stardust.
He can still move. His hands fish in his robes for a familiar scepter. The statue-- if they can cleanse the source of the infection, then... "Catenna," Cyre murmurs, "One more job..."
After this, he can... he can go make amends. Speak with his brother. After so long.
He doesn't realize yet that Leon has already gone.
But surely, surely someday, they'll meet again...!
<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.
"No!"
It's not a plead for his life, despite the fact that Id has grabbed Dean by the mouth and neck. It's a refutation.
No, Dean's not going to die. It might almost be hilarious, like watching a stubborn toddler refusing to be put to bed.
Avril shouts at Id, calls upon Lucadia's magic to form a barrier around him. That probably helps Dean stay conscious when Id starts to tighten his hand around Dean's throat; the fact that Id is holding back despite his own intentions is another, though Dean isn't aware of it. Then, all of a sudden, Id drops him, and Dean lands unceremoniously in the mud next to Xantia, coughing. Id bounds away, and Dean watches him go with a frown.
He said he wasn't Fei. Was that just a coincidence, then? Then, if that's true-- "F-Fei!" he calls, looking towards the shattered hut. He staggers up to his feet and promptly falls over again. So, instead of running, he starts to crawl towards the hut where he last saw his friend get attacked.
It sure is a good thing the others beat Sword Dancer and the Trial Knight retreated, though the Sword Dancer's Malevolence remains. Dean's a little tunnel-visioned right now. After all, if Fei's still in there, he could be seriously hurt... or worse.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
Fear... must... puppet...
How much of those words Ethius listens to, or cares to comprehend, is a matter that may be as good as dust in the wind. In the wake of his Symbological assault, he casts a distinctive shade across the Malevolence-infested grounds. In his wake, dust and soot - and the beginnings of ruin.
The whole of their powers frees the statue - to put it succinctly.
He turns not a head to those his work inconveniences - or maybe even gravely wounds. He lets the quarterstaff drop to the muck as he staggers forward. The wound in his left side is more serious than first appears.
He speaks of no apologies to anyone he passes. Is he aware of how close he must have come to killing Riesenlied? Is he aware that he nearly destroyed Gwen's lifeline to her ability to continue to draw breath? What sorts of everlasting damage he might have inflicted upon any of them? He continues to stagger forward.
If he is a puppet, who is pulling the strings?
Independent of the drama, or of the damages he has inflicted, Ethius maintains that cold stare. He goes forward. He passes by Jacqueline, by the fallen Kourin.
He stops walking for all of three seconds. He never turns their head to them. Blood seeps out his left.
His gloved hand puts itself under the bandanna so it can be yanked off by his teeth, and dropped into the mud. He brings the other hand under the poncho. The hand more wet takes hold of something underneath it. The drier one gesticulates as he casts that lower-end electrical spell he needs a drier hand for to start.
From underneath the poncho, the less dry hand holds up the eyeglass, now bathed in a soft blue light, as he holds it to one eye. To the damaged, but still intact seal - he may have taken it close to the brink of destruction against the Sword Dancer.
He does not stop to reflect upon his recklessness. He already knows why he did what he did.
The other hand withdraws something else. It is not clear what it is.
He stands in observation of the statue in the muck, in the Malevolence-filled field. His purpose, whatever it must be, is enough for him to fight past blood loss, fatigue, and that spiritual poison.
"It will not be much longer." He mouths to himself.
What will it not be much longer for... and to what end, exactly, is he willing to go for 'it'?
<Pose Tracker> Cecilia Adlehyde has posed.
Cecilia has much to watch in those seconds; Jack, ripping free of darkness to strike with awful power. The conflux of Guardians raining power upon the cursed idol; Id, trying his level best to flatten K.K. (and instantly improving his standings in her books by so doing). Ethius blowing up a star...
"That orb...!" she gasps, seeing the Trial Knight produce a sphere much like she saw at the Sacred Grounds. But she has little time to assess it. The Sword Dancer breaks, upon Jack's blade. She resolves to tend to him, standing as the Malevolence thins, but she only gets a few steps before her head throbs.
Two can feel it, for once; a quiet voice like slivers of moonlight dancing across Catenna's thoughts. Priestess...harken ye to the Shaman...
But Cecilia hears something else, and her eyes travel up as she sees Rose's arrow burst into a holy flame. "Ah..." she says, breathless, the words not entirely her own. "I...I see. So what we need is..."
She marches forward. The steps come to her as she moves; approaching, staff extended, pentagram out. She sweeps it low, once; gathering. Low, twice; drawing, as the Malevolence boils suddenly in the presence of the power that sustains the world. There is no great light from Cecilia, no sudden eruption of riot and power. She invokes the Guardians through simple, swirling movements, a circular dance whose movements she does not know but executes ably enough. Practice will surely make perfect.
The flames of the burning homes village burst into blue as it begins.
The Malevolence congeals like clotting blood; thickening together until the ugly purple darkness shines with a shimmering rainbow hue, beads and boluses of the stuff wafting upward, carried on Leyline streams before it simply winks out, returned to the Leyline pure.
<Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.
Too far
Not fast enough
Thus run the thoughts as Avril bolts across the field, unarmed and -- for now -- unheeding of the final collapse of the Sword Dancer, of the relinquishing of the Statue.
Do the ends justify the means?
What meaning is there to a victory if you lose what's truly important?
The shield springs to life, a moment of perhaps divine intervention.
But divinity is not the only hand at play here. Something resonates.
Just as quickly as the ice forces Id to drop Dean, it sublimates, even that bright haze vanishing away.
"Desist," she tells Id.
It's probably not needed. Id is, already, on the retreat.
Watching where the man vanishes to for one long moment -- her gaze grim -- Avril quickly drops to her friend's side. "Dean? Are you alright? --Fei? Is he..."
Gwen may have to keep Absolute Zero safe a little longer. Avril follows, close on Dean's heels.
<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.
"Avril! Yeah, I'm okay," Dean croaks, rubbing his throat. "But Fei...!"
There's no time to explain. They'll have to go and check the hut--though Avril will probably have the presence of mind Dean will lack to point out Fei probably retreated with the survivors when they don't find a body or anything. After that, they'll need to check in on Gwen...
<Pose Tracker> Catenna has posed.
The dark power hesitated for a moment. Catenna bites her lower lip and makes a mental note, even as she smiles a tired but shining smile up at Cyre. That's worth pursuing.
The Guardian power descends upon the entrapped and animate Statue, does its work, and passes in its time - and Catenna is already beginning to move towards it, even as the serene light of Celesdue's presence melts away. She doesn't want to give the man who was once Fei time to get any ideas. The priestess has never encountered Id before, but he feels pretty bad, acts pretty bad, and more importantly is a wild card at a time when she does not want wild cards near a Statue that's had more than enough of that for one week, thank you.
Id takes off before it becomes necessary for Catenna to fight him. The priestess finally lets herself breathe. With both he and the accursed Trial Knight gone, she has a clear path to seal the Statue.
But what about all this Malevolence...?
"Yes, Cyre," Catenna murmurs, laying her hand at his shoulder. "Perhaps more than one job...."
Shifting her rod to one hand, she moves forward with worry behind her eyes.
She looks on with quiet reserve as Rose and Mikleo try their damnedest to purify the sheer quantity of Malevolence saturating the land - and the Malevolence pulls ahead. There must be some secret to it, she reflects, watching Rose with utter attentiveness. It must not be enough to try and simply dispel it. The way the magic weaves itself into the land.... ...Then Malevolence must change the nature of the land itself!
Just as it changed Leon's nature. But with his strong spirit....
...And if *all* things have a spirit that sustains them....
Priestess... harken ye to the Shaman....
Catenna's eyes widen. She breathes in; her eyes dart towards Cecilia, watching what the woman does. Watches the way that pentagram staff moves.
Catenna has only the staff of sealing. But she can wing it. She watches every move Cecilia makes; replicates them in her mind.
"So that is how it is done," she whispers, her eyes wide with wonder.
The ritual secure in her mind, she moves to touch her staff of sealing to the statue and begins to chant. Before long, it shimmers subtly and sits there, Malevolence sloughing off of it harmlessly.
The Statue is safe - and she, too, has learned something today.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
Just as the Statue is sealed, Ethius recoils and falls onto his seat - and then onto his right side - clutching one side of his face.
He totally deserves that!!
<Pose Tracker> Rose has posed.
Whatever Cecilia does, it works.
The silver flame at the heart of Rose's pillar of light ignites, empowered by the Guardians - or perhaps, no longer snuffed out by greater Malevolence than the Squire can handle. The flames spread along the watery tendrils planted in the ground, and a great display of blue and silver fire overtakes every wisp of that foul purple, brown and black mist, leaving behind cleansed air and land.
Then the inevitable happens. The light stops, as the last wisp of Malevolence disappears. Rose's Armatus breaks - to those who could see it, anyway. Gone the ceremonial outfit, the bow, the long blonde hair. The merchant falls backward, unconscious, caught by Mikleo as he reforms from blue light. He'd sigh disapprovingly, but that did end up working out.
... he looks like he might need help carrying Rose, though, he's not top-shape either. To Dean it just looks like Rose is floating in the air dead now. Oops.
<Pose Tracker> Jacqueline Barber has posed.
From her position on the ground, Jacqueline has a good view of it. Cecilia speaks, and Jacqueline watches as she performs a ritualistic dance. Watching her, she never would have guessed this was her first time performing it. Any mistakes on Cecilia's part are unnoticed because Jacqueline really needs to get some sleep sometime soon.
The power that sustains the world...
She can feel it. The Malevolence-tinged liquid lifts from her and she feels...
...Better.
She looks upon Cyre, Catenna, and Cecilia, a proud smile on her face. She's glad for them, glad for everyone.
In time she'll treat the wounded, at least those who don't turn her way. And after that...
She's probably going to rest for a long time.