Behold the Unloved King (Part 13)
Log Info
- Title: Behold the Unloved King (Part 13)
- GM: Whirlpool
- Place: The Desolation
For the first time in who knows how long, there is silence here. True silence. Not even the wind of the Everstorm seems to blow for a few seconds before slowly time seems to begin catching up with itself and things fall into place. The darkness of the abyss seems to withdraw back into itself, the portals shattering and falling away into so much dust. Everything just ... collapses into place.
Even the dragon, yes, sags to its knees with a mammoth crash. Exhausted, as no doubt are you.
Reunion can still be heard crowing and shouting imprecations at Seldan, even as he finishes his part of sending the mighty scorpion-demon straight to Vardama's halls. When it is done, though, he drops to one knee, panting hard, the point of Reunion sunken into the once-swirling and eddying dust at his feet to steady him.
Only now does he take the time to look more fully at himself, at the golden armor and twining vines that wrap and surround him -- and at the black ichor that stains and overlays all save the armor itself. He turns one gauntleted hand over, a mix of wonder, sadness, and shame written plainly for a moment where normally an impassive, stone-like expression would live, but he does not move.
"Boy. Boy." Reunion is plainly trying to get his attention, but he does not move immediately.
Exhausted as they may be, Harkashan perhaps doubly so, he's still standing. That's more than one can say about the fiend that tried to ruin all of this. Only to be destroyed - in a most permanent manner thanks to Verna.
The ground shakes moments later, as the dragon is forced to 'land', leading Harkashan to wince. The others have been kept healed up at least to some extent by him, but the Celestial beast has only just been revived.
Harkashan is quick to approach them, taking a moment to slow his gait, before bowing before the thing's massive head. "Thank you for your aid." Before reaching out.
"I have a bit left in me. Let me aid you." He rumbles, as he begins to Heal the dragon.
GAME: Harkashan casts Heal. Caster Level: 13 DC: 23
They won. They won? They... won. Telamon stands there next to Cor'lana, hands still up, ready to unleash another spell, before it dawns on him that there's nothing left to fight. Whatever foulness the depths of the hells had vomited up onto Ea, it's been pushed back in and the door shut.
And so when the dragon thuds to its knees, so too does Telamon, slumping down almost in unison with his wife. His expression is full of fatigue and wonder, as he leans against Lana. "I think we did it," he says to her with a smile.
Cor'lana leans into her husband as they're now both very earthbound in their orientation. She looks at him with violet eyes equally filled with fatigued wonder, and she grins at him. "We did it," she says. "We absolutely did it."
And... She should have some sense of shame about her. But she doesn't. They lived, and this is the stuff of legends, a momentous occasion. They lived. She leans in, wraps her arms around Telamon by the neck, and kisses him breathless. (Or, well, she might--if he didn't need to breathe.)
A moment later, Cor'lana looks over at Seldan and her eyes widen. "Seldan?" she asks, expression filling with concern.
Aryia's fists don't waver as even as pieces and threads of the massive being unravel into nothingness, back into the Halls. That is, until a fist drives into the earth. The pugilist blinks, panting hard, sweat and blood of hers and otherworldly caking the golden armor and fey vines.
Her knees wobble, one buckling and falling into the dirt with her buried fist. A brief glance is thrown about, looking to see that the others were alive before flopping over and keeping a hand pressed on her side, kicking up a cloud of dust as she does.
Verna was not fully upright following the previous collapse of their reptilian mount. This proves a boon, as it is less distance for her to slump. A great deal occurred in the past few moments, much of which is as incredulous as it was wearying. She holds similar questions to her kin in mind and looks around slowly to re-parse all. "Is it ended? Are all... present?"
Unburying himself, the King slowly peels himself off the ground and brushes himself off with an air of dignity at its most absurd. He doesn't say anything for a moment, lets the action speak for itself.
"I am - well enough. Enough, Reunion." Seldan does not immediately stand, still breathing hard, but he does at least answer Cor'lana and Reunion both in one sentence, and the momentarily open expression eases, halfway for a moment, then vanishes entirely into alabaster impassivity, then into sober reflection, once he looks up and around. "I am surrounded by mighty allies indeed."
His eyes go, then, to the King, and then to the celestial dragon, and at once lower again, this time in reverence.
The healing energies of Harkashan certainly help. The dragon's pain seems to ease, become more bearable. There is a moment before it's form seems to shimmer and shift, shrinking down from the mammoth dragon amongst you into a golden-light-suffused humanoid. A Sith, not unlike Harkashan for the moment, but one with great, celestial wings and gold scales. It hoves off the earth for a moment before settling down onto it.
AT LAST, a voice echoes within you.
Telamon is distracted, for a few moments anyways, by the hero's reward bestowed by his wife. He's only mortal, after all. But once she takes note of Seldan, Tel looks worriedly at the paladin as well. Once the knight starts moving again, his expression eases. "Not allies, Sir Seldan," he says firmly. "Friends."
It's said with a smile, though, and now that the danger is passed, he turns his eyes to the celestial dragon. Following Seldan's lead, he bows his head, before looking up again with that same amiable smile. "A thousand apologies for not rising to greet you properly, my lord," he says in the lilting tones of Celestial. "May we know a name we could address you by?"
Seeing that Seldan is, at least by his own answer, well enough, Cor'lana nods gently, but it's clear she's still a bit worried from the crease of her brow, and she nods a little. "Please let us know if you need anything," she says. "As my husband says, friends."
Cor'lana might have a response for Verna's question, but then comes that voice, her eyes widening. For as much as she has felt other entities talking in her head before... It is always new and different when something like this speaks to her. She bows her head.
"Greetings, noble one," she says, but she allows Telamon to do the bulk of the talking for the moment.
Harkashan steps back as the healing energies flow over the dragon, and it shifts its shape. There's something to be said about seeing a golden image of a dragon turn to the form of a Sith-makar. Who knows how many legends and truths something like this has spread across Am'shere.
Harkashan bows his head in return, as the voice echoes within him, before sitting down within the sands and taking a moment. Drawing a flask of water, and drinking of it. He doubts a celestial even needs to drink at this point in its existence.
Instead, he lets the others do the talking for a moment, as he looks out onto the battle-worn field around them. The carvings in the ground left by the blows of Aryia and the carving swings of the likes of Seldan and the magics of Telamon and Ravenstongue.
A moment of peace again.
"All accounted for, Verna." Harkashan answers the Mourner.
A smoking fist juts out a thumb from the ground from Verna's ask, Aryia rolling to her back and wincing. She gives herself a quick pat down, finding nothing leaking, and shakily gets on her feet. Her attention tiredly drifts from Cor'lana's notice towards Seldan. Telamon speaks his words, and the mute smiles in comradery at the Silverguard. They went to town on that titanic fiend!
Only for the voice to crash from within her- Aryia flinches, turning around to take in the... shirking dragon? Sith? Regardless, she didn't have the energy to be standoffish, instead bowing her head alongside the others in deference.
Verna regains her breath, energy, and a sense of calm as all appear to be present, accounted, and vocal. She subsequently rises and adds her own morsel to the Lupecyll-Atlon opinion, "Friends, all, if not family by word and deed." She begins to take a reflexive step for the jutting fist to offer aid to Aryia, though (utterly unsurprisingly) she rights herself without need and with far greater speed. Verna then watches the dragon rearrange itself to the golden makari before noting aloud, yet also directed towards Harkashan, "I believe we did well, indeed."
Seldan's response to Aryia's smile of camaraderie is a wan return in kind, once he has looked up, and he flicks the ichor from Reunion with a firm motion of his blade, then sheathes it, looking around at the others. Before he can speak, though, the words echo within him, and his eyes lower once more. Truly, they are in the presence of a mighty being indeed. "I can but imagine," he murmurs, putting a hand to his side once more.
"Friends do not use a tongue all do not understand," he returns, turning the smile then on the married spellcaster couple. It's a small thing, but genuine enough, and there is no heat in the reminder. Slowly, his breathing rights itself, and he looks around for something, then at himself, and immediately draws a sigil before him. It is a simple thing, but he then grabs it from the air, letting it coat his hand in blue-gold-silver, and sets about removing the ichor and black yuck and dust from his hands, face, and then the rest of him.
No more is needed assures the Celestial of Harkashan's efforts upon completion. It is difficult to look upon, suffused in light as it is. Hovering above the ground, it stills a moment, surveying the land.
Long has it been and much has changed, but I know this: you did not do this out of anything other than great need. What boon is it that you seek of me?
It clearly is unaware of what transpired while it was dead, including your previous interactions to some extent.
The King opens his mouth to say something, but fortunately, a look from Ravenstongue stops him dead in his track. He does not make his grandiose pronouncement...
Telamon just lets the verbal jab from Seldan roll off him, giving the paladin an impish grin. He does, however, give the Joyful King a look as well, as this -is- serious. Clearing his throat, he gives Lana's hand a squeeze, before straightening up a bit even if he's seated on the ground.
"Sir Seldan," he says politely, "I think you should make your case to our celestial friend here. Let's not dance around it. I have no desire to waste his time." He offers the Joyful King a sunny smile. "Besides, once that's done, I suspect Lana and I will have some work to do as well."
Cor'lana snickers a little at the reminder Seldan gives to Telamon. "I'll give my last refrain a reprise--I agree with my husband," she says. She gives the Joyful King another eyeful as she says, "His Majesty Rig'suwen, the Joyful King, has business beyond this room as the result of our work today. Seldan's work is this moment."
Violet eyes stare at the Joyful King. "Let us let the Silver Guard do his work, Your Majesty." Someone has to keep monarchs in line. Cor'lana might have just appointed herself as the Joyful King's first advisor.
Aryia takes the brief offer from Verna to get herself up the rest of the way, her gaze having to look past the celestial makari, the light hurting her eyes. Side glancing the Joyful king as his potential shenanigans, she wipes at her face to clean some of the ichor and grime off. Her frame stiffens, listening to the booming words, them rattling her thoughts.
She glances to the cleaning Seldan as other ask of him to present their case. The pugilist, however, goes to a kneel. He's done a lot, and she didn't care about not being presentable before this larger than life being. Her hands rise, "We sought a way to destroy a nefarious infernal dagger that has committed countless atrocities. The only way to unmake it that we found feasible was to be destroyed by a celestial hammer. This lead us here, to your remnants and your hammer." She grimaces as she stares at the shining makari. "We need your hammer, and perhaps your might to unmake it." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Harkashan gives a deep nod of his lizardy head, and continues to stare out. What needs to happen now, is in Seldan's hands.
"Does anyone else require any healing? I think I've got a bit more of my gift available to me." Exhausted as he may be, he didn't really get hurt.
Unlike his allies. Some bleeding, some with wounds already staunched. Leave the matter of a Dagger and Hammer to the others.
So the crux of the matter is addressed. Verna is more than content to allow Seldan to explain such, though is not wholly surprised when Aryia initiates; she is oft very direct and concise, afterall. The only possible surprise on the Mourner's part is the lack of additional expletives, adjectives, and/or emphatic gestures from Aryia. For the moment, Verna has nothing to add or no compelling need to add it. As well, it is more comfortable to not need to stare at the celestial directly, as is polite were she addressing it.
For a moment, Seldan remains silent, focused on his spell as he is, but as Aryia explains in his stead, he lets it fade away half-finished and squares his shoulders to face the celestial, in the way of one preparing to face judgment. His eyes remain lowered, however, against the light - and perhaps for other reasons. "It is a product of the Demon Wars, a dagger forged in the Iron Hells of captured souls," he adds carefully. "We would see this atrocity unmade, that it never again be a weapon in the hand of another, and that there might perhaps be a means of returning those souls to the Halls for judgment. It is as Aryia says -" he pauses, and looks over at the monk, "even as ridding Creation of yet another atrocity in the process of seeking you is no small reward, of itself."
As if on cue, as if to punctuate the point, his stomach gives an audible growl.
Oh, so *that's* what this is about.
The Joyful King frowns in thought. Seems like he's a little mad it's not ALL about him. For a moment.
The Celestial squints in his direction. He's about to say something, but perhaps is distracted by the tale of the blade and there is a pause. It remains painful to gaze on, golden scales rippling with crackling energy.
Yes.
I now know the dagger of which you speak, and its forger. It is within my means to destroy it.
Telamon slowly clambers to his feet, helping Lana up as he does so. The two of them stand arm-in-arm, as if they hadn't just been in a ferocious battle. He inclines his head to Sir Seldan, and to the celestial, smiling at the news. "That -is- good news. That dagger is... an abomination. Better it be unmade."
That being stated, he leads his wife over to stand with the Joyful King, giving the newly reminted fey lord a friendly smile. "While they work out the particulars of that task, your Majesty... have you considered what you will do now? You are free -- free to taste all the wild fruits of living, both here and beyond. If you would like suggestions, I'll be happy to offer them."
Cor'lana is grateful for the assistance, and she leans into her husband as they walk together. She doesn't necessarily look exhausted enough to be doing so. It's just more of that affection that blossoms in the wake of an event that she's just happy to have lived through. "Let it be a memory rather than the real--for while a memory can hurt, its teeth are not as long, cruel, and sharp as the real thing." Cor'lana knows all about hurtful memories.
But as she looks at the Joyful King, she smiles too. "But sometimes," she says, "it's possible to turn that which was once intended for pain and sorrow into something that is joyful and beautiful. Just as it is as possible to turn the silence that hangs in empty and dead air into something magical, filled with the sound of delight and the motivation to live."
Aryia flashes a thumbs up towards Harkashan, noting to him that she was well. A quirked brow is thrown Verna's way before nodding along with Seldan's additions to her explanation. She meets his gaze as he looks over to her, dipping her head in agreement. Two birds with one massive hammer.
Her lips do quirk slightly at hearing the grumbling. The food after all this was going to be as divine as the celestial.
A sigh of relief escapes her as the being makes note that they can be rid of this plaguing dagger. Seeing the others rise to the feet, Aryia follows suit. Head still bowed in deference- or safety, that crackling power made her eyes hurt. The side conversation with the Joyful King gets an ear to flick, and a nose to wrinkle. They feys are feying.
For his part, Seldan pointedly ignores the fey bullshit going on in the background, allowing Telamon and Lana to do their thing. His entire focus remains on the celestial, and he, too, looks away, though whether out of eyestrain avoidance or deference is not wholly clear. "I have it within my possession, though I will not withdraw it, save to destroy it."
He lets out a long, slow breath. "It is in the enchanted haversack next to your hammer."
That's Joyful Fey Bullshit to you, Seldan!
There's a distinct pause from the Celestial as it regards Seldan and Aryia for a moment, then a nod.
"I shall break it. Tell me what brought you to it."
In the meantime, the Joyful King is considering his answer to the queries.
"I see a city in your mind -- it looks like a happy place."
OH NO.
The Celestial turns towards Verna and Harkashan. It beckons them closer.
Harkashan, upon sensing the Celestial's beckoning, rises up to his feet, putting the little canister of water away at his hip and takes a moment to get a good breath.
He then moves towards the Celestial, aiming to flank Verna, with a most curious tilt of this head.
"How may I serve?" Harkashan asks.
Telamon is currently distracted from the Celestial. Which is not a slight against the deific servant, but suddenly Telamon has a slightly more pressing issue: the prospect of the Joyful King wandering into Alexandria. After a few moments, he seems to just give a kind of shrug.
"Be gentle with the city, your Majesty. They have endured great hardships and woes over the years." He pauses, and looks thoughtful. "Then again... perhaps you -both- need this. A friendly king, to help them heal from the tribulations heaped on their fair city. And a bustling city, to show you all the things you wish to learn about."
Verna paid only partial mind to the Joyful King in light of the celestial and the hammer, knowing that her family would know best how to aid and/or handle him. This briefly increases with a glance to all three as a city in mind is mentioned. She is uncertain whether to be concerned, and her expression shows as much.
This shift is brief, however, as the celestial beckons she and Harkashan. She steps towards, regarding its toes more than the rest out of respect for both it and her own retinas. "What aid might I render?"
Cor'lana looks nervous. "Ahhhh..." She scratches her head for a moment. "You know what, Your Majesty, there is a bit of a problem. It'd cause a diplomatic incident if you simply showed up as yourself. Now, it is a place that contains joy, but..."
She thinks a moment more. "No, actually, I think I know where you would go that would be most-loved. Why not spend some time in the Realm of Dreams, Your Majesty? Many people have good dreams that would benefit from your presence. Why, imagine it! So many people meeting you in their dreams, and they wake up into the waking life and they think, 'The Joyful King! What a wonderful and splendid man. I hope I dream of him again!' Everyone will love you."
The fae-blooded sorceress claps her hands together. "And! I can write lots of songs and poems about you and how you are a guardian of good dreams. How does that sound?"
Aryia's attention flits over to the hammer and said haversack, a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek from the memory of the blasted thing. "Good," she motions towards the celestial makari, taking a few steps back from the celestial and whatever it was they were about to do. "Came across it being wielded in the slaughter of the False Hope's followers," she explains, light on the full details.
An ear flicks again, and her head turns, a furrowed brow aimed at the Joyful King and the his enablers. From Telamon, to Cor'lana. She stares. Then-- sighs in relief at the outcome. "I was about to veto that so fucking hard. There she is! <Handspeech/Tongues>
"The tale is not short, and yet is it well that you hear it," Seldan answers, after a moment, and starts in the direction of his pack, over by the hammer, talking as he goes. A small hitch is visible in his stride, to those sharp enough of eye, and he moves just a touch more slowly than his usual purposeful stride.
He begins the tale with the man they'd found wielding it, and to what end - the slaughter in the pleasure house - and continues to Grauthis the Griever, his quest to throw him down, the Shards of Animus, and more. Nothing does he leave out, and it turns out to be a tale of many minutes. At some point in it, he seats himself on a rock near the pack, leaning subtly against it. So busy is he in the explanation, that the side discussion of the Joyful King is wholly lost to him - but maybe that is for the best.
"I will need your assistance," it tells Harksashan and Verna, "though you have already done much. Your action this day will not be forgotten. It is because of you that I can return to my duties, brethren. Know your glory will be sung in the Dome of Heaven, now and at the time of your deaths. Expect me."
"Prepare a circle, if you could. There will be a release of malign energy when it breaks. I will be able to absorb some of it, but I do not want any to escape. It must be contained and eliminated. A weapon this old and this powerful defies a great many laws."
The Joyful King nods solemnly at Telamon and Ravenstongue. "I am a soul of civility and gentility. I know not any other way," he explains, "Clearly, they have good reason to celebrate."
Oh boy.
"Perhaps I ought throw a party."
At the ask to set up a circle against the evil that might flow out, Harkashan nods and knows what to do. He takes a few stones from a small satchel at his hip, and begins to spread them.
"Understood. Verna, let's overlay a few of them, so they are reinforced." He remarks, and begins to make the preparations the Angelic one needs of them.
GAME: Harkashan casts Magic Circle Against Evil. Caster Level: 13 DC: 20 GAME: Harkashan casts Magic Circle Against Evil. Caster Level: 13 DC: 20
Verna nods at the request, even if the notion that it requires their aid is still settling. "Certainly." Another nod is made to Harkashan. "A very wise option. It is far better to be redundant in this than underprepared." She then moves to craft additional circles, either concentric to the others or with overlapping interiors. All crafted with the protections pointing inward to contain rather than to keep at bay.
GAME: Verna casts Magic Circle Against Evil. Caster Level: 19 DC: 20
Yup, Cor'lana's trying very hard to do damage control now. "Let's throw the party elsewhere!" Cor'lana suggests. "Not in the city. Let me explain: there's a history of powerful outsiders showing up and doing damage to the place. You would not want them to have any reason to dislike you. Hence why I suggested the Realm of Dreams. Why not show people a good time in their dreams? A party that everyone can go to in a place that everyone has to go to at some point."
She smiles brightly. "Trust me, everyone will love you there! All will know the Very-Loved and Most Joyful King, Rig'suwen, who throws the best parties in the Realm of Dreams." Now she's upgrading his epithets.
Seldan starts to his feet at the request made of Verna and Harkashan. "I can also aid in that, if that be needful. No stranger am I to such defenses." Pointedly ignored are the dream raves, as he goes to rescue his pack from where he had dropped it. He returns with it, but makes no move to open it until the circles are fully cast.
Aryia nods along with Seldan as he unravels the tale about how they ended up with the dagger, as well as the greater threat it's a part of. She ends up finding herself sitting on the ground nearby, listening as she runs a comb through her savaged hair. She frowns, pulling out singed and burned clumps off the left half of her head and discarding them to the wayside.
She watches the two Mourners and the celestial sith'makar get to work. Only for her to hear what plans the King and co. is concocting, potentially. Her shoulders lax, seems like Lana is putting on a good front steering the newfangled fey. She didn't like fey very much. But a party? That she can get behind.
The Celestial listens to the tale spoken and it turns its unblinking, golden gaze on Seldan. It hurts to look upon its visage, certainly.
"...grim tidings. I have much to absorb. I can hear them singing -- but the house of Taara seems .... too quiet. A great change nears."
With the circles complete, the Celestial urges you to back away beyond the limits of the circles cast by Harkashan, Verna, and aided further by Seldan. He holds his hand out and the hammer, which laid in the tomb of the Unloved King, simply ... appears there, humming with power and glowing golden now.
The Joyful King eyes this and adds, "Oh, that's pretty," while he's clearly mulling over Ravenstongue and Telamon's tales and words. He's considering it.
And then the Celestial raises the hammer and brings it down upon the blade with all his might. A pulse of black rises up to meet it, blocking him from going further, but he presses down harder, harder, finally crashing into it with a shower of golden sparks and a powerful enough wave of energy to knock everyone off their feet.
Cor'lana might have a follow-up for her case with the Joyful King residing in the Realm of Dreams, but then she's knocked off her feet. "Oh!" she calls out, holding out her hand for Telamon to catch her--
The Joyful King breaks her fall instead, catching her. Cor'lana blinks rapidly. Something shimmers over her then. Some sort of magic that's there and gone the next blink. "Home," she whispers in Sylvan, a blank look in her eyes--
And then she blinks again. Her violet eyes back to normal, and she wiggles her way out of the Unloved King's grasp. "Everything okay?" she calls out to the others.
Aryia's head almost spins off her neck as she feels the celestial bring such news of a great change. She knew something bad was coming, but to hear that Taara was going quiet? It'd make any mul under or previously under the False Hope double take. She didn't need to be told twice, Aryia scoots away even further.
She blinks as black and gold come to a clash. There exists a moment where she thinks the heavenly sith was going to need an extra hand in push- only for the battle of light to overcome, and meet with the unholy creation.
A hand rises to say something, maybe cover her ears in preparation for a resounding boom like before. Instead, she's flung back, ragdolling into the ground several feet before being arrested by a standing rock. A quiet groan escapes her after she settles on the ground.
Never in his withdrawal of the blade did Seldan touch the foul thing at any point, using a mage hand spell to withdraw it from the haversack and float it to the center of the circle before casting his own magics. That done, he backed away as instructed - but not far enough, backing away only as far as the rock on which he'd been perched a few moments ago to spin his tale. From there, he watches with great interest, shielding his eyes, until the force of the blast flattens him against the rock, arms automatically going up to shield his head.
He lays there, stunned and aching, from the sheer force of the blast, but after some moments of quiet in which is lost another growl of his stomach, he sits up slowly and surveys the handiwork. "Well enough," is the absent answer to Cor'lana, but the celestial has much more of his focus. "It is done?"
The 'black' energy fights back a moment before shattering into a thousand fragments, dissipating, carried away on a wind like a thousand disparate screams.
The Celestial heaves his shoulders and then sways forward, toppling to one knee in exhaustion, having pushed itself beyond measure to accomplish what was needed.
"...I must return. We will meet again," it tells Seldan, and the rest of you too.
And then he evaporates into a golden pillar of light that beams into the heavens.
The Joyful King utters a single word, after releasing Cor'lana.
"Showoff," he mutters.