End of the Queen
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A10: Temple District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- The air of solemn, heavy divinity in the area is often broken by laughter. The dual presence of the deities Althea and Daeus, man and wife, stand towards the center, with their children and their children's temples positioned around them. The presence of the divine is felt not only by their temples, but also by the actions of their worshippers. The great plaza is as a social center, paved in brilliant, white flagestones and covered in benches and sitting areas. Priests, acolytes, and servicefolk of all stripes roam the plaza, going from one task to the other. At the front of the temples of Daeus and Althea, at the Plaza's centermost point, rests a great fountain, the cheerful waters reflecting the Sun during the day, and the Moon and Stars at night. The fountain is strategically centered, and is oft a place for wisdom and lesson-giving. It is not uncommon for a priest of some stripe or the other to stand there, surrounded by the curious and faithful, delivering messages of hope or contemplation. At other times, it and the plaza become a landscape of celebration of the holy holidays. Few vendors are seen in the plaza--the nearby temples provide most food or services. Towards the west, the great Bridge stretches across the river, and towards the east, the Redridge mountains. The plaza rests in the midst of it all, the temples massive and grand on the Alexandrian scale. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Svarshan Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon! 2s 4d Whirlpool I am stinky! 0s 1d -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Objects =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- A series of barricades has been erected by the Temple of Daeus. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Temple of Tarien <TAR> Temple of Serriel <TSE> Temple of Gilead <TG> Temple of Eluna <TE> Temple of Daeus <TD> Temple of Angoron <TAN> Temple of Althea <TA> North <N> Bridge <W> Up Mountain Road <NE> -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Explosions. Bank robberies. Sahuagin. Werewolves. Demons. Kulthian machines. Mysterious agents of another power. People infected by the Blue Lady's madness. ALl this and more had sought to disrupt the ritual, and so far, they have not succeeded. It's getting close to the end of the second full day of the rite. The sun is setting and everyone, from city guard to member of the Guild of Explorers, is finding themselves truly exhausted, battered, and otherwise not feeling so hot at this point. The barricades built around the Temple of Daeus over the last few days leading up to this fight show the signs of it, as do the numerous blast marks all over the plaza, not to mention the /gaping hole/ in the side of the Temple of Daeus. It's alreayd been breached once, it'd seem, but it didn't seem to have any impact on the exorcism. All reports indicte that it 'continues uninterruoted'.
The party at the Temple of Tarien seems to continue unabaited as well. Raucous laughter occasionally erupts from the place in stark contrast to the grim faced Daeusites, Serrielites, Altheans, and even the slightly jealous Angorites all of whom have endured great battle in the last couple of days. Numerous guardsman and militiamen man the points here in the temple.
ALl of you have assembled here, now, having been called to it because it is said that they're expecting a 'last ruhs' of dark forces intent on ending this rite. Intent on seeing the BLue Lady's influence grow until it consumes ALexandria -- or more approriately --Alexandria consumes itself.
It is unusually dark. Most of you ar eused to the illuminating lights of the city. They're still not working, but even if they were, it feels as if they'd do little to pierce the darkness which has settled over the city. An unsettling mist coils around the ankles, no doubt bringing back uncomfortable memories of the city's lost years within 'the Mists' when it was locked out of the world while Taara and other dark forces ran rampant over the world. Dark forces which Alexandria and its allies have been step by step battling back.
Exhausted, but determined. That typifies everyone as of now. The tTemple district must be defended.
Aenyn has arrived.
Jessa's arrived with some of the other clerics from the various Temples of Twilight, most of whom had been running a triage center on the festival grounds. She looks tired and a bit wild, her hair more chaotic than usual and her clothes stained with various things, possibly including blood. She is looking around the area with bright eyes, bouncing on her toes as she gets the lay of the land. Perhaps she's overtired at this point.
Tatyannah is in front of Tarien's temple, back to a wall, with her back of tricks and weapons in one hand and her spear in the other, using it almost as a crutch to keep herself up right. She seems both wired and exhausted; the first, perhaps due to some under the table magic or chemical, the second, due to running from encounter to encounter for the last few days. Those that have dealt with her might have noticed that she's become increasingly more stream of consciousness and utterly tactless, not that she had much to begin with. In fact, she's mumbling to herself even now, "Just a little bit longer, then you can rest. For a /week/. And get /paid/. Then you can try and rob the bank when you're all better."
Mikilos doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. This is typical for the elven magus, but greatly appericiated in times such as this. While others may have dark bags under the eyes, or a stooped stance, for the wizard it's just another day. Which is by no means to suggest he isn't stressed, just a little better prepared to deal with it. Just now the elf is washing dishes, pie tins specifically, with a mix of hot water and cantips. More powerful magics held for when the other shoe drops, as everyone is expecting.
Elycia has been keeping a minor eye on the ritual. Minor being that she's standing off to the side and enjoying a little bit of mead, while trying not to interrupt the clerics that are performing the ritual. Her own area wasn't in the city, at least to her, it was outside of the city. Once she heard of the ritual, she made her way in and enjoyed the mead. Thankfully, she didn't have to eat or sleep for too long, she thought as she rubbed the ring on her left hand.
"Have no fear, everyone!" Jibbom shouts as he waddles in from the Temple of Tarien, striking a pose and stetching his wings. "Steel Von Ironblood, Bane of the Night, Alexandrian Hero, is here to safeguard you all! Stalwart associates, please make ready to catch any maidens who may swoon at my presence!"
Elessa is part of the group that arrived and has her best armor on, and her sword at her side. She decides to take the time to work on patrol with some people to make sure that people aren't going to make sure that they won't be terribly surprised. She attempts to make sure she is somewhere that she can also see the ritual, curious about what they actually are doing and how it will actually go down.
Jareth comes in as part of the escort for the Daeusite group of the procession. His helm and armor polished and gleaming, and his best tabard over the breastplate. Scanning the crowd through the visor of his helm as he stands alongside Svarshan, he keeps a ready hand on the pommel of the broadsword scabbarded at his belt.
Verna descended the mountain road from the monastery and temple in answer to the call . If there is a final desperate charge of chaos and evil, all aid will be required. Even if it is repulsed, as she expects it will be, there will be many souls in need of escort to The Lady, whether for honor or punishment.
Aenyn actually has no problem with the darkness. It's almost like a second home to him now. He spent a good portion of the day sleeping and recuperating from his rough night. Now, though, he's lurking in the shadows near the temple of Tarien and watching the square cautiously. If he does see something causing trouble, they won't see him until it's too late. Or so he hopes.
Oates is stalking around, a glare of fierce determination on his face. He's wearing an improvised pumpkin-orange tabard over his usual outfit, plus several armbands and sashes of a similar color. The farmboy is muttering in various languages, but the gist of it all hints at a hatred of the Blue Bitch and all those who follow her.
You're hardly the only adventurers here, of course. There are others. There are a lot of mercenaries in this town. Some argue 'too many', but truthfully, it's in times like these that Alexandria is quite happy for it's 'adventuring class' of citizen.
The militia seems to be holding things together fairly well, after all.
A young man runs into the Temple District and declares, "The Sahuaging have retreated back into the sea. Victory on the Tornmawr is ours!"
That seems to please the little Ceinaran priestess and she turns with several of the others toward the sudden cheering. But she's experienced enough to continue watching her surroundings worriedly.
Tatyannah does not celebrate. She cocks her head, to listen to what's going on in the Tarien Temple. If it's still a party, then she's not moving.
"Victory on all fronts! It is time to party down!" Jibbom declares. "A heroic celebration! Steel Von Ironblood declares it!"
Tak is resting the area, just seated out of the way where he can watch to see how this all ends. There was never much explination of who the queen was or how she actually operated, so he is unsure how than can 'exorcise' her in the first place. Perhaps someone else knows the truth and it was never really shared information.
Mikilos grins, but shakes his head. "One front left, Von Steel. The important one. Slapping down a few goldfish is nice, but isn't the big win. Wait for the Ritual."
Elessa looks over toward the messenger arrives with news of the foul creatures are defeated. Now to see what other things might show up in order to stop this whole thing from actually going on. She is itching for a fight actually, hoping something comes instead of going away so quietly.
Benthus has fought Sahuagins. He has battled elementals. He has engaged people who, strapped with high explosives, attempted to destroy his temple. He has rallied against automatons who has decimated many of his brothers and sisters. He has stopped an unknown creature delve into the book of his god, and took a void blade in the chest for his actions. He has been slashed, banged-up, shredded, blown across a field, stabbed by so many pointy sticks. And you might guess that he is ready for more. Of course you are thinking so, because he is here, standing amongst all the other heroes, adding another sword-arm in the the wall of man and women who pledge their lives to defend the city. But the truth is... He is all but spent at the moment. In all the fights that he had to be in, he had to die just a little bit in order for others to live. And although he may be standing with the rest, his heart is far from certain of whether he should be there. If a man were to stand by death's door too many a times, one would eventually understand that you should'nt be there. And for a paladin who has no fear, he becomes doubtful of not having it. Poised to the point of collapsing, the ragged looking, breast-plate battered, favoured son of Daeus leans on his great sword, breathing heavily as he tries to drown out the pounding noise in his head. He couldn't hear very well. He couldn't see very well. Heck, he couldn't be doing anything well at the moment. But for some strange reason, despite his own failings and doubts, he is here. He is probably hoping to see an end to all of this. That somehow, by being here, he will find relief. But for now, the only thing that he is concerned at the moment, is breathing.
In the midst of muscle and grunt and gnarl...a small figure makes its way through. Petite and tiny, it weighs just a few pounds. This bedraggled pup hides near the drainpipes of the Temple of Gilead. A youthful sith-makar glances over that way. He rides alongside a larger cousin, the two of them on a pair of armored swifts. The youth wears a giant Symbol of Daeus on a shoe string around his neck. His eyes are wide, and he keeps adjusting the weapon at his side. Beside him is a heavier, older sith. This one just looks tired, and wary.
There is good cheer from most of the soldiers present. They don't risk getting too loud -- they wouldn't want to disturb the rite somehow -- but the Sahuagin having been pushed out of Alexandria is a relief to everyone. It's a victory on a night that's been full of bloodshed.
In the distance, one of the Castellum's towers glints ominously in the night.
The cheer suddenly ends with the call of an alarm.
"Sir! We've got hostiles coming! On the bridge!"
Indeed, there on the bridge are numerous Kulthian monstrosities, pushing their way through the men, sending some on it into the river or merely splattering others. These great, Umber Hulkish in apparance metal-men have been seen through the city befor,e but they're definitely making another move now, and soon come under withering firepower.
"Hostiles, eh?" Jibbom strikes another pose. "They shall know the wrath of Steel Von Ironblood, the Bane of the Night!" He takes to the air with a beat of his wings and begins wildly firing rays of electrical energy at the horrible metal monstrosities.
Jessa is support, not front line. She starts to dart among the fighters. There are flashes as she taps people with wands and howls as she goes near the various engagements in her section. She seems rather drawn to some of the thicker areas of the fight, where a lot of the fighters seem to be taking heavy damage.
Tak turns at the sound of the call to battle. He sighs slightly, wondering again where in the world all this stuff comes from, and how is it even connected. He moves up to a line of warriors/adventurers and casts magical spells to increase thier speed, and also calls out encouragement with his bardic abilities.
Mikilos carefully dries and sets aside the latest plate, putting away his apron before rushing off to battle. There's no excuse for being sloppy, after all. The elf stays a fair pace back from the thick of the fight, lending support to those more directly engaged, with the occasional firely blast to shore up faltering points in the line.
Tatyannah groans, "I hate being right, I /hate/ being right." She slings across her chest, grabs her spear and bolts into the crowd. She seems to favor the sneak, then stab style of fighting, which isn't much of a surprise. The unnatural gloom helps with being stealthy, and it's made better by the fact that she can see in low light. There is no flash here, she's going for efficiency.
Elycia chuckles and shrugs before she walks her way over towards the semi-front lines. She doesn't exactly have much magic on her, but she does send out small bolts of electrical energy if they get close, or a larger wave of electrical energy if they get REALLY close. Seems she's more of a short range caster......
Aenyn rubs the back of his head idly as he quietly watches the goings-on in the square. A tired smile is offered at the news of the sauhagin defeat. He's still not fully recovered from the fight in the bank two mornings previous. The call of alarm brings him alert, however. Sticking to the shadows, he makes his way to the edges of the fighting and begins his hit-and-run tactics. He attacks from the shadows, stabbing, slashing and smashing with his short sword and mace before tumbling away and disappearing back into the shadows.
Oates joins the fray, following heavier fighters in. The moment a foe's attention is split between multiple attackers, the farmboy steps up and stabs, his rapier finding exposed points in the enemy's armor to devastating effect.
Accepting an enchantment from an offering Sorcerer, Jareth breaks out into an arcane-sped run to the bridge to engage the attacking monstrosities. Holding a line with other warriors, he holds his shield forth to ward off the attackers as his fiery weapon hacks and cleaves away at them.
Elessa hears the word about an attack and so she runs off in order to go help. She doesn't draw her sword until she gets up close to the fighting and starts to work her way through the enemies. She makes sure she gets into a position where she can take advantage of distractions by other people, to get those slightly more damaging blows in.
And from above, from the other side, come more.
Demons. Small, flying demons that are winging their way through the air. Imps. Just a... /lot/ of imps. They're closing in from the opposite side of the Temple District, fluttering down from the Mountain Road. No doubt they were summoned close by and merely released, but it /is/ a problem. They too are being engaged.
More shouting. /Arguing./ The 'makar youth quivers in his saddle. He points angrily towards the imps. Svarshan yells back. More hissed words, among them: yes/no, danger, and dragon. The youth's swift turns in a tight circle, driven by the rider's frustration. It snaps its jaws. More discussion, then a sharp and angry gesture towards one of the staggering warriors. Svarshan grasps the warrior from the ground--a flash of light and the beat of leather wings hits the air. When the warrior drops, it's with skin as new as a freshborn babe's.
The fighting must be terrible where Jessa is. Demons. Yuck. There are flashes of golden light and dark energy and an angry howl as one of them yanks on her hair, ripping out a clawful of it. NOT THE HAIR. People are falling as she struggles.
Verna is neither a frontline combatant, nor much with magic at great ranges. Worst of all, animated inanimate objects are far from her specialty. Now.. demons are another matter, and their proximity to The Lady's temple and the halls of the dead makes her decision simple. She and her hooded self make haste for the western edge of the district and the demonlings.
Tak continues to hollar out inspiring words and commands to those on the front lines, he draws his bow and tries to pick out some of the imps from the air with the weapon, just trying to help in whatever small way he can.
Mikilos turns back, his attention divided a moment. Stepping back from the more heated bit of the battle, the wizard murmurs a long moment, and gestures. A rend tears into the air, and an irrate ball of wind flows out, taking off after the imps that dare invade it's domain.
Jibbom takes on the horrible winged monstrosities, zipping and zooming about through the air and dispatching several with powerful lightning bolts. He beams and strikes as dramatic a pose as he can manage while still flying. "Villains, beware! You face the wrath of Steel Von Ironblood, Bane of the-" KLONG! Jibbom, not paying attention to where he was going, collides headfirst with the dome atop the Temple of Daeus. He's out cold.
Tatyannah pauses a moment, to peer after the little demons and it's enough that she gets slashed at. She screams in utter rage and anger, turning on her attacker and going after them with as much energy as she can, everything else be damned. It's an easy thing to lose focus in an environment like this.
Imps are flying in the air. Big mistake. Elycia's element is lightning, as the imps soon find out when electricity arcs from her hands to the flying imps. Thankfully she's away from Steel Von Ironclong, as he was just clonged on the head.
With a backhanded swing of his mace, Aenyn sends an imp flying back the way it came to slam into the wall of a nearby building. He vanishes into the shadows of that very same building, moving along the wall to emerge at a different point to skewer another imp harrassing a city militiaman. He gives the militiaman a mock salute with his sword, then disappears into the shadows once more.
Vennan has arrived.
Jibbom goes home.
Jibbom has left.
There's chaos. There's confusion. The guards, the militia, even the mercenaries are taking far more casualtieis than should be expected. Things /are/ looking ugly. The ALtheans are getting quite busy with all the work they're having to do to save lives and bolster the defenses of those standing guard over the Exorcism. The stone tiles are beginning to be slick with blood, whether it be human or demon. The fountain is stained with crimson as the wounded fall in it as chaos spreads. But the center still holds on the defense of the Temple District.
Stuck in the thick of the worst of it, Jessa seems to be both gritting her teeth and enjoying herself. It is a bit of an odd combination. Still, the soldiers of her area are bein slowly but surely pushed back by the approaching hordes, falling and retreating.
Tak alternates his bardic abilities while moving. He uses them on a group, then lets the effect linger while he quickly runs to another group to inspire them. He tries as best he can to spread his effect as long and as far as he can among the fighters, there is no way his magic could last very long, and his bardic voice will eventually give out as well.
Elessa appears to nearly dance among her enemies, dodging their weapons before deftly slicing into them. She bounds with handstands and tumbles to get into the most opportune position. She takes several hits and seems to bound back over toward the line in order to get some healing before she would dive back in to try and take more of them out.
Elycia has to stay behind the front lines as she tosses out her electricity. She even tries to bolster a couple of the front line fighters with a shield or a bit of extra armor, but she's mostly covering the front lines with electricity. So as they fall back, so does she. She's not stupid.
Vennan joins the battle a little on the late side, likely having been tied up with one of the other conflicts raging around the city. But better late than never. The elf fights his way to the temple fountain, cutting and stabbing his way through the onslaught to make his way there. The elf is already covered in blood, a mix of his own and that of others. He looks pained, but resolute.
Tatyannah tries to stay within the vicinity of Tarien's Temple, but she's not always successful. At one point, she ducks around a corner to gulp down a few potions before she goes back out there. It is getting harder and harder with each pause, though.
Mikilos bolsters defenses as best he can, magics lifting the very stone of the plaza into protective walls, giveing at least a breath of respite to those able to duck behind them. Sadly, walls have a bad habit of protecting both directions, but some crative placement and sloped sides keep the Blue Bitch's forces from taking too much advantage.
Benthus has disconnected.
Benthus has connected.
Jareth starts to rally up the warriors on the bridge, forming the tip of a wedge formation to split the attackers and then rushing them to the edges of the bridge itself, forcing them to take the several hundred foot plunge to the water below.
What!? Jessa spies a few friendly faces and weaves through, tapping Tatyannah and Mikilos as she wades through, healing with her wand. Still, she beams brightly when she makes it toward the fountain, tapping the elf with a heal as well before grinning up at Vennan. "Fancy meeting you here!" She....really is enjoying this way too much.
The imps are getting smarter. As Aenyn darts out of the shadows again to aid a beleagured mercenary, two imps swoop down and rake their claws across Aenyn's back. He lets out a cry of pain as he finishes off the Kulthian horror trying to smash the mercenary. His free hand grabs something from his belt then throws whatever it is onto the ground. A cloud of smoke erupts around Aenyn's feet obscuring him from sight. When the smoke dissapates a few moments later, Aenyn is nowhere to be seen.
Benthus could near hear the initial warning. He could not see the changes in the stance of the people around him. He could not move when they begin to frantically throw themselves into the upcoming wave of mechanized beings. He stands wobbly on his two tired feet, kept erect by the aid of his longsword of which he is using as an imprompto staff. The pounding noise in his head refuses to be abated, no matter how hard he tried. His reaction is delayed. By the time he realizes what is going on, his companions are now bloodily engaged with the mechanized Kulthian division. He grits his teeth, commanding his legs to move. But he remains still. He ponders. Is he frozen in fear? He asks himself the question.
No.
He could feel he has control of his legs as he shifts his balance on this two feet. He is still in control of his faculties as it manifested when he detached his weary hands from the handle of his sword to look at it. Bruised and blistered, On areas that have been cut or torn, his hands show the signs that it has witnessed many a battles. He flexes and extends his gauntleted fingers. He has control of his hands. He looks about to see where he is and lo, he can turn his head. Then why isn't he moving? He asked himself that question.
Wait.
Wait? For what? I am a paladin of Daeus. My place is in the front lines, to shed the blood of the foes of his god, and to shed his blood for the lives of his people. This is his roles. This is his elemental drive, his primary function. And yet, he could not do that. He can not do that. Because of something. Because that something wants him to wait. And so, with this inner turmoil he is having with himself, it is only logical that he would come to his next question. Wait for what?
Soon...
Verna relies primarily upon magic, and one's mind and body only have the capacity for so much. When she can no longer directly inflict harm or hinderance, she attempts to aid those who can. While nowhere near as adept a healer as others, she can delay journeys of the dying until others can repair them. Her other weapon primary weapon is knowledge, and she makes use of it to guide others as to vulnerabilities of the flying imps of which she may be aware. The range of this is only limited to that of her voice, which she raises over the din of battle.
Tatyannah squints after Jessa, even after she calls out, "Thank you." Still, the beaming is- unusual. She shakes off the feeling, however, going back into the fray for another round of fighting as best she can. She moves with instinct, not having the time or brain power to do anything but survive.
Caris has disconnected.
Sophia has arrived.
In the thick of it. Another flash of light and another warrior gets up and walks away. The 'makar youth is panting. Svarshan shoulders the boy's swift to the side as a pair of imps fly through...and land. "Sa. Talon and flame," he says. The boy nods, drawing his own blade.
Mikilos is running low on spells; not that it stops him. The elf's slivery blade flashes through the monsterous ranks, only a tiny arcane spark required to send it whisteling through the air to strike with mathmatical accuracy. And there's an important diffrence between a wizard low and spells, and one out of spells, as one imp learns too late, it's flesh torn apart by an arcane blast.
Up above. THe tower glints again. Then a light pulses from it, expaning outwards. A greyish light that seems to engulf the city radiating from the Castellum. It illuminates for a brief moment before pulling back. For those eyes used to the darkness by now it is at least a little unpleasent.
But what happens next is equally mystifying: a dozen militiamen and other guardsmen and even some adventurers look... /different/. Their flesh pallid and waxy. Like an imperfect, melting wax double of themselves -- though some seem to stabilize quite quickly or even return to their proper selves, it's clearly marked them as...wrong somehow.
So very wrong.
Clones.
Aenyn is gone from the battle for a matter of minutes while he downs a potion and moves to a different part of the battlefield. There, he pops out of the shadows again to resume his hit-and-run tactics. At least until the demons catch on again.
Tatyannah squints against the light coming from the top of the Castellum, and turns her head away from it. However, that means she happens to spot one of the guardsman 'melting' and being revealed as a clone. This makes her stop and dig for a pair of glasses, to put them on to see if that makes a difference.
"Clones!" yells Oates, stepping back slightly. He briefly rummages around in his gear, then puts on a set of lenses. "Let's see if that revealment device actually works," the farmboy growls.
There is, momentarily, a waxy sheen to Jessa's pale skin. Only for a moment but it is enough to cause the little priestess's lips to tighten. She gives Vennan a delightfully bright smile. "Don't worry, love, I won't let them hurt you. I'll keep you very safe!" .....that sounds like a threat.
Jareth's true form has been revealed. Turning his gray, pallid face to the warriors behind him, he lets out a savage war cry, slashing and stabbing into the Alexandrian guardsmen with pure bloodlust!
Vennan looks a little relieved to see the halfling priestess, nodding at her. "... Jessa." Then the waxy sheen appears in the brief flash of light, and his eyes narrow immediately. He jerks his hand away from her, reaching for his blade again. "... You are not Jessa. You are another one of the impostors." He says with a scowl. "Where is she?"
Tak grimaces, more problems, this is never going to end. He starts to draw his whip, snapping it around him in a display to keep enemies off him and discourage them. He still provides his bardic inspiration for those on his side.
"Oh. Somewhere." Jessa waves an airy hand. "You just hold that thought, hm? I've some people to kill." And with that, the Ceinaran--for she is most definitely still a Ceinaran--turns around to wade back into the fray, so to speak. She radiates rather painful waves of destructive energy as she channels. Oops.
Aenyn pauses midswing as the Castellum's light shines. He looks up with his waxy, pallid face and sighs. Then he turns and slides his short sword into the back of a nearby priest of Daeus. Letting gravity pull the corpse from his blade, he grins wickedly at the group of soldiers that turn on him then leaps backwards into the shadows, vanishing from sight.
Tatyannah must be feeling particularly stupid, because she spots JarethClone and him turning on the others. She runs straight for him, throwing herself at his back, even as she chants to herself, "This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid." Oh, she is going to be lucky to get out of this alive.
Within the crowd, there is a single red-haired woman in Daeusite armor, swinging her sword haphazardly at imps, almost as if it was too much effort to strike them down, though none seemed keen to approach her of their own accord. Around her too was a number of militiamen, bearing bastard sword marks along their body, sad instances of 'friendly fire'. Really unavoidable, sad things. So sad.
And then her hair seems to lose its lustre, and her broad, wicked grin drips gently as her lambent golden eyes turn a sinister, all-consuming black.
For she was not Detecting Evil.
She was Detecting Good.
"Come forth, wounded men of arms! Come and I shall give you peace and repose!" She cries, 'inspirationally', before laying her hand on a wounded man who begins screaming in pain as a black fire consumes him.
She stands, still grinning, ever grinning, twirling her sword lazily, before turning, to advance upon Sophia, raising her sword wreathed in a corona of black flames (once white-gold), gesturing with a hand. "Never fear, good people, for I shall strike down the wicked!"
She guffaws. "Or... was that strike wickedly? I can never tell!" She offers, far too happy, as the crushing weight of her vileness crashes upon Sophia, as if her Good has been Smited!
/Many/ of the duplicates outright begin to break down. It isn't pretty. The revealing of them, the damage done to them by it, seems to be 'fatal'. They're melting in some cases. Just outright dissolving into gooey goo people who leave black, black stains on the cobblestone.
It's... horribly disgusting to witness, if quick.
And....it's a good thing Elycia hasn't eaten anything this past couple of days, or else she might've thrown up.
She still might.
She still belches lightning, or throws it from her fingertips. Bad analogy. But we get the picture.....right?
There is a stream of polyglottal cursing from Oates as the farmboy makes note of the clones, followed by some fast stepping as he starts to pursue, starting with Aenyn.
Elessa blinks as some of her allies turn not to be... their enemies and just pauses in shock. "What in the nine hells?!" she shouts before dodging an attack from someone and she quickly deflects another blow before she is able to get one in herself.
Sophia sees the revealing light, and perhaps most fortunately for the soldiers she's aiding, does /not/ go waxy and pale, showing herself to be the genuine article. At the sudden disruption of the ranks, she shouts a rallying cry, raising her voice to the heavens, asking for Althea's aid.
Which is about when she gets hit by the false Gwendolyn. However, she doesn't fall, in fact she grows! As if the revelation has given her strength instead of robbing her of hope. Standing as tall as a giantess now, she looks at Gwendolyn, "Vile doppleganger... prepare to feel justice!" With that, the now-greatsword-sized ancestral blade of the Lightbringers crashes down on Gwendolyn, holy power crackling along the blade as it has a smite of its own.
Jareth stumbles the impact of the Giantborn's charge hits his back. Nonetheless, he turns and leers at Tatyannah with a feral grin. A gauntleted hand flashes out, grabbing her throat and squeezing, "Oh, we are going to have ourselves a merry dance, aren't we? But first, I am going to make you watch as I kill every last one of these fools. And then...then we will see how long and how loud you can scream." before he hurls her up and back behind the Alexandrian line before he continues his onslaught.
The last event that Verna expected would be defenders of the city to suddenly become usurpers. Or were they such all along, at least in the chaos of the battle? Very well. She now must turn her attention to her neighbors, as some reveal their motives and nature. Righteous or vile, The Harsh Lady judges all, and Verna can do the same. Good, bad, she's the one who can aid death as easily as stave it off.
Svarshan leans down and hisses something to the youth. The latter looks out at the crowds...and then clambers atop the older sith's mount. He grabs at Svar's belt, just before Srassha takes off towards one of the clusters at a fast pace.
Vennan continues scowling. He waves his rapier at not-Jessa as menacingly as he can. "Stop! Stand down, and I will see that you are treated fairly." He's been stabbing clones all day, but for some reason he's a little more hesitant to take that route with this one. Even while she's conjuring horrible evil magic. "... They seem to have made you less boring. Surelly some small fragment of your original remains within you?"
Tak moves to help Tatyanna if he can, he has seen Jareth in battle, and if the clone is as good as the real one, well, lots of folks are going to die. Tak throws a net at Jareth to try to restrict his mobility first, hopefully catching him from behind.
Aenyn is running in and out of the shadows, slaughtering militiamen and priests with impunity before they even know he's there. He does notice Oates giving chase and slips back into the shadows, trying to come around behind his persuer for a hearty stab.
Tatyannah is choked and reaches out to ineffectually scratch at Jareth, finding no purchase. And it's worse when she gets so easily thrown into that wall, leaving that mini-Giantborn hole/smudge on the wall, before she slides to the ground. There is a /lot/ of swearing in Jotun, mostly complaining about the fact that this wouldn't have happened if she weren't a midget. There might be some swearing about someone's parentage, though it's a toss up if it's hers or Jareth's. She pushes her way up slowly, wobbling a lot.
Whirlpool has disconnected.
Whirlpool has connected.
Tsking softly, Jessa holds out a hand toward Vennan and murmurs a few words, tilting her head as she makes a spell casting gesture. Golden light flows toward Vennan. "Darling. All of this will be all right. You just let me do what I'm going to do and then you and I can be together. I've /so/ many inspiring things to share." Convinced that she's got that handled, the Ceinaran turns back and starts to touch people who fall to the ground, shrieking and convulsing.
At no urging, Srassha picks up the pace. Her legs stretch and eat up the ground. Her claws dig into the cobblestone, her head and tail shove a hollow in the crowd. Somewhere in the midst of it, her rider grabs the mecate--he shoves them into the youth's fists. "Jarrreth!" snarled, to get the mighty warrior's attention. The sith grips the saddle, then leaps down as Srassha rushes past. The swift doesn't stop, just doesn't--the youth MUST be carried to safety. MUST. She keeps on running.
"NOT-Jareth. Pale, pale and /weak/." He lifts his chin, a rattle in the back of his throat, sith-raw, sith-challenge. His tail hits the cobblestones. "/Weak/." And hits it /again/.
Vennan gets a sort of faroff look in his eye for a moment, his face turning quite red. Not-Jessa seems to have him under her spell, both literally and figuratively. "Well... that is, I suppose..." But then, she goes back to hurting people. And that, the elf just can't abide. He summons up his remaining willpower and shakes his head. "N... no. No. You have to stop this!"
Jareth sneers at the challenge, narrowing his eyes at the Swiftclaw and its rider. Sawing at the net on him with his flaming blade, he tears the frayed shreds away and adds insult to injury by skewering a man through the stomach and out his back, raising him as some sort of twisted trophy.
The fighting is ugly. It's continuing. The clones of the adventurers are not the only ones holding together. The officers of the militia are confronting one of their won as well, and their seems to be a lot of confusion and havock. The imps are still here and so are the Kulthian abominations, though their numbers have been thinned, greatly.
Blood is everywhere. Screams can be heard from elsewhere in the city.
The halfling priestess may not realize she is getting a bit more melty but she is. Just a touch. "-Very- inspired," she promises without looking back. She's blatantly enjoying both the chaos and pain that she's currently inspiring.
Well well well! SOPHIA gets bigger! And justice-y! AND BIGGER! This is fine. Blackguard Gwendolyn opens her arms up wide, the giant greatsword slamming into her shoulder and crushing her silvered pauldron into her shoulder, causing her...
To laugh. And laugh, and smile, and grip the blade with her mailed hand, the overlarge giantborn being simply advanced on as the Antipaladin's aura of crushing despair was brought to full bear, pushing aside the weapon in her shoulder with her silver shield and swinging her own sword, an invocation of fell power cloaking her with a good-deflecting coating. (Because Litanies are not allowed on here, much to the chagrin of ((Anti))Paladins everywhere), before she aimed to... Hug... Sophia?
"Don't be like that! Come, good sister! Come into my arms and know peace and solace, feel the joy of Daeus! Feel his mercy!
Her entire body glows darkly, her Cruelty quite nauseating!
One does not become skilled at traps without developing an eye for the subtle and the faint. While Oates can't track Aenyn's progress directly, the farmboy is still aware of the shadowstalker's rough location, and keeps pressing the attack. "Run away, dust-rock," he growls. "Run away back to whatever corrupt pool spawned you, and you might live long enough to see your masters fall."
When the rogue gets to her feet, Svarshan mutters, swears. He draws a heavy axe, and... "Dragon," he mutters. Just the word, and then there's a heavy, hearty flap of leather wings somewhere in the distance. A sudden glow of light arcs outwards, covering both him and Tatyannah. The rogue's arms, and armor, begin to glow. And then? He charges, barreling into the flaming-sword'd warrior, intending to imbalance him.
Tak has ten nets, and his goal now is to throw a net over anyone powerful and cloned, that means adventurers. It wont do much, but it will slow them down so someone else can help beat on them. So the bard runs around, still trying to shout inspiring words, but also throwing nets on people like Jareth and the not-a-paladin.
Cesran has arrived.
Cesran goes Bridge <W>.
Cesran has left.
Cesran has arrived.
Vennan is going to have nightmares about this. Or whatever non-sleeping elves have instead of nightmares. But still. He's managed to get ahold of his senses enough to do something. He takes in a breath, lunges towards the terrible Jessa clone, and drives his blade at her while her back is still turned. "Forgive me." He says, quiet and pained.
Tatyannah hurls herself in Jareth's direction again. She doesn't have to play by the rules. Nevermind that the Sith seems to be challenging Jareth. There simply aren't going to be enough reincarnation/resurrection/healing spells. At the end of the day, there are going to be a lot of really dead people. She's trying to keep that to a minimum. Except she gets distracted by Sophia and her getting bigger. Oh that's just not /fair/! Oh wait, shiny light of - something, right, right, back to the good guy thing. She tries to leap at Jareth again. This time, she's got divine help!
Sophia takes a step back from Gwendolyn, if she's surprised at the resilience of the evil clone, she gives no sign of it. Blocking the sword with her shield, she winces at the aura coming from the anti-paladin, then looks sternly at the scene, before shouting, "ALTHEA!" The power of the divine backs her word, as the wrath of the goddess can be felt in the hearts of those not pure, the effort focusing on those clones immediately about Sophia (whoever those might be).
Elessa notices that one of the paladins she has worked with for a while turns out to not be who they think. Hey! A good excuse to stab a paladin in the back! Killing her current foe, she moves over and gets into position behind Gwendolyn, to give Sophia a bit of a boost, but does her slice away at the anti-paladin.
Mikilos has disconnected.
Jareth comes running at the charging Svarshan and leaping Tatyannah. The impact is nearly deafening. Tatyannah's spear pierces down into his clavicle, while the Sith'Makar Paladin's axe cleaves into his neck, nearly severing his head in one chop. Slowly, the pallid, waxy flesh starts to hang and droop, finally bursting forth in a splash of acidic bile all over.
Aenyn leaps out of the shadows behind Oates, his short sword ready to strike at the farmboy's back as he lands. His sword strikes out as soon as his boots touch the stones of the street. "Not bad, but not quite good enough, farmboy!"
"But I was having fun," Jessa says in a confused voice. HOW DID SHE GET STABBED. HOW. The guard in front of her flops to the ground, dead, and she turns with a furious look on her face as she bleeds. "Let me /inspire/ you," she manages to grate out as she grips hard onto Vennan's arm and sends a horribly strong wave of damaging energy into the elf. Luckily, she also collapses. Probably she is dead. Mostly likely. Maybe.
Benthus stands in the open courtyard of the temple of Daeus, alone. Despite the many horrors that has now besieged the city, the temple looks and feels relatively calm. A cool breeze gently caresses his cheek as if to say that everything is alright. But he knows that it is not. His eyes can see and his ears can hear, and his mind cries for release. A tear forms at the corner of his eyes and falls unnoticed. He feels trapped in a cage as he sees once again the events that have happened in the temple not too many nights ago. People dying in great numbers as the host of damnation fall upon them mercilessly. He grieved for the lives that were snuffed that day, as he grieves for the lives that are taken now. Yet he can not move. Bounded by some thing, he stands stoicly alone. He sees some of the people begin to withdraw from the fight. He sees them see him standing unperturbed on the courtyard, alone. He could hear them calling to him for aid. And he wails agonizingly as the false heroes begin to cut them down, and tearing them asunder.
It is too hard, he says to himself as tears begin to fall from both cheeks now. He grips the handle of his great sword, trying to find comfort in the weapon that has borne him through so many conflicts. But it does not, and he laments even more.
It always is... But that is why you are here.
He does not understand. He seeks to understand, but he question is only answered by silence. He looks on, blood driping from his lips. He didn't realize it but he has been chewing on his underlip to keep himself from breaking down.
Then, there was silence. Like a spell has been cast over him and he could not hear a thing.
Be brave.
He is puzzled by the thought. I am brave, he says to himself.
Be brave.
The thought returns, and again he is puzzled. But I am brave?
Be brave.
He is becoming sick of the repeatitious thought and was about to scream. I am bra---. And then he realizes what is expected of him.
If a man were to stand by death's door too many a times, one would eventually understand... that there is a purpose for him being there.
Raising his sword from the ground, he breathes deeply for what may be his last long breath, and heads towards fate. "By your hand, my liege... Make the light shine."
Elycia is taking in a few god deep breaths. She's been casting a LOT of lightning around, and she's getting tired. She leans herself against a building and cricks her neck. She still had a few spells left, but she had to take a quick break, even with the clones creating confusion among the others.
But Elycia isn't confused. She knows better.
When the goo explodes--Svarshan looks down at the puddle, at the... "Gone. I will. Find him," he says. Manages the words. He takes a breath and nods curtly to Tatyannah. And then again. "Nisse," he says, before rushing off. Because in a battle like this one? Who has time for words? Much less an entire conversation?
There's work to do. And people are dying.
"EW! I have Jareth all over me," Tatyannah screeches. She starts wiping off her spear amid all the chaos. "Ew!" She repeats again in protest. She peers around for more clones to deal with, though thankfully, she doesn't quite have to do as much as before to do damage.
Mighty wariors, holy and unholy. Priests wielding magic, pious and maleficent. Verna looks to the various melees, feints, and raw power tossed about. For now, she has her own issues, between guards that are not and the imps. Fortunately for her, and others, mortal power is irrelevant in comparison to The Dread Lady. All souls pass through her halls.
Verna moves about the chaos, striking at the proponents of chaos. A mere touch is all that is required to pass a glimpse of what awaits to the recipient. Pauper or prince, acolyte or archmagus, squire or master knight... it does not matter. While the influence is not directly harmful, and is momentary, it is more than enough to grant defenders an advantage.
"Arrrrgh!" Vennan made the possibly fatal mistake of letting his guard down for a moment. Something about the clone Jessa clearly has him thrown off. The foul, life-killing energy rips through him and he falls to his knees, in pain. He makes a weak attempt to wrench his blade free from the clone, and an even weaker attempt to stand.
Tak will use his whip to trip and disarm whenever he runs out of nets to throw over clones. He isn't picking out any single one to deal with, and in fact keeps his distance due to the apparent strength of the clones. His tactic is to stay alive, and if necessary pull out wands of healing to help anyone in need. Support, thats all.
Tatyannah turns to spot Vennan, and goes running for the elf. "Hey, hey, come on, let's get you - elsewhere, out of the fray. I'm gonna pick you up and carry you, ok?" And then she doesn't wait for his agreement, just does it, throwing him over her shoulder like a rag doll.
Over the sounds a battle a primal manly shout rises up from the flank of the enemies that seek to stop the exorcism. It blasts back a number of foes as Cesran has finally arrived and he starts to wade into battle. He moves through the open hole and he spots some of the heroes that he knows laying dead...Jessa and Jarenth has fallen. He looks around as he joins the others near Aenyn who is fighting other hero's. "What's going on?"
"Don't worry!" Gwendolyn mock-rallies, as holy power washes over her. It stings, holy-ly! Thankfully she isn't vulnerable to holy power, or she would most likely be steaming and horrible and terrible and just kind of writing on the ground.
Instead, she smokes evilly, the scent of burning flesh and vile power filling the air around her, as she...
Well, as Evil Gwendolyn just points and LAUGHS at Sophia. She seems wounded, but just uncaring.
"Althea? ALTHEA?! I SPIT AT HER NAME! WHEN HAS SHE EVER SHOWN YOU TRUE MERCY? WHEN HAS SHE SHOWN YOU TRUE /POWER/?!" She croons, before throwing aside her shield and dropping her sword and...
Running her hands along her armored body like some sort of exhibitionist freak. "Taara has show me such power, such wonders. Things you shall never see... Oh wait! I know! Let me /share/ her gifts with you! With you all!"
She spreads her arms wide, throwing her head back and laughing, while screaming. "TAAAARAAAAAAA!"
The immense wave of Negative Energy and black fire that issues forth from the Blackguard as she gives totally in to her horrible madness sear flesh and slay militiamen indiscriminantly.
Gwendolyn goes North <N>.
Gwendolyn has left.
Gwendolyn has arrived.
Vennan has lost some of his fighting spirit. Even now, back on his feet and with blade in hand, he can't help but steal glances at the corpse of the thing that looks terribly like Jessa. It disturbs him greatly. That and the effects of terrible negative energy have his fighting abiltiies seriously reduced.
Jessa is melting into goo, to be fair.
Jessa mostly looks like a horrible Jessa-puddle.
The Negatrive Energy Channel KOs Elycia immediately. She wasn't all that durable to begin with, being a sorceress.....
Somehow, Jessa turning to goo does not set Vennan's mind at ease.
Sophia winces, though if she's surprised by the power of the evil aura that Gwendolyn is eminating, she gives no sign. She's also looking a bit green, though she's bottling it in for now as she shakes her head, instead going for the direct route. That is to say, bringing her massive holy blade down in a pair of strikes at Gwendolyn, trying to take her down before she can harm any others in the militia. "You know /nothing/, for you are nothing more than an imperfect, soulless copy! And you shall trouble this city no MORE!" Sophia's eyes blaze, as it looks like she's finally gotten angry.
And, of course, that's not the end of things.
Not even close.
That's when people begin to arrive. Ordinary people at a glance. Ordinary people who are coming from all directions. Dozzens of them. Of course, their eyes are full of blue fire and blades of blue flame extend from their hands. They seem to be directly under the influence of the Azure Queen. And they're heading straight for the... temple of... Tarien? What?
They're streaming straight for it.
Tatyannah opens her mouth to challenge Gwen, because she can answer those questions. Except Vennan. She judges the merit of starting a religious discussion amid all the chaos, but gets distracted by the arriving people. Then she's yelling out, "Rally! Rally to the Temple of Tarien!" She goes running for the front doors.
Tak spots the people going for the temple, and decides to help them out, non-lethaly. He starts casting grease in front of the temple stairs....going to make it difficult to climb.
Benthus has disconnected.
Oates winces as Aenyn's stab connects, although the farmboy's reflexes avoid the worst of the ambush. "Think you can fight me face-to-face?" he growls, trading blows with the sneak. The rush for the temple is unexpected, but Oates starts making a fighting withdrawl towards the temple.
Elessa notices all the people heading to the temple but right now she's more occupied by Evil Gwendolyn, trying to help Sophia take her down. The blast of negative energy nearly knocks her off her feet, but she manages to stand and go in for another hit against her.
This is the last thing Vennan needed. "... If you'd told me I was going to die defending a coven of Coyote-worshippers, well, I would've called you a liar." He complains to no one in particular as he limps forth, ready to join the battle in spite of his drained condition.
Aenyn trades blows with the farmboy, using only his short sword at the moment. His mace still hangs at his belt, leaving his left hand free. "I've faced worse. You'll fair no better." His free hand grabs a small pouch from his belt and throws it at Oates feet. His eyes close a split second before the flash powder impacts right in front of Oates, causing a blinding flash of light in the immediate area.
Ordinary people? Glowing? Somehow, Verna does not believe that that is so ordinary. Despite the reputation for Tarien indulgences, this does not seem the moment for a sudden invitation to a drunken orgy. "The temple!" Yes, it is still a temple, even if the hymns are raucous laughter.
Verna rushes for the mob, ahead or even amongst it. She calls upon The Lady's touch, and a rush of energy from Her Mistress' hall coruscates out from her. Not likely potent enough to slay hardened warriors, it may at least slow down the "normal people." And if Verna is ultimately proven wrong in her concerns? She will dutifully mend wounds or escort the victims on their journey afterwards.
One of Evil Gwendolyn's arms (her left one) is simply lopped off. The cries of... Horrible, backwards pleasure that Clone Evil Gwendolyn feels (Because she is evil as shit) are interspersed with terrible laughter as blood just kind of sprays and then drips down her ruined side.
The strike from Elessa is easy - almost criminally so - and drives through her back, puncturing a lung or... Well, it would.
If her insides weren't a horrible black goo.
HA HA HA CONSTRUCT TRAITS! HA HA HA IMMUNE TO PRECISION DAMAGE! I FINALLY GET TO QUOTE THAT AT OTHER PEOPLE! HA HA HA HA-ahem.
It doesn't matter if she doesn't have guts. She's on her last legs. But she's okay. She hooks her good arm around Elessa's neck, before...
Cuddling up with Sophia. Bringing them all into the wonderful embrace of her Cruelties.
Her Sickening, Diseasing, Nauseating, pox-ridden love.
Even as she basically melts on top of them.
A black, horrible goo of vileness whose very touch was stomach turning and purgingly bad.
Cesran frowns as he sees the mob heading towards the temple. He needs to try to put an end to this. He casts a spell on Aenyn, Phantasmal Killer (DC 20). Before Aenyn's eyes will arise that thing that he has most deep down, inside tucked away in the bottom of his heart, locked away behind the doors of his mind. That door will be opened and something he might have never told anyone, his greatest fear...a fear so great that it could stop his heart. This fear has a shape and form tonight and it has come for him.
Sophia staggers at that last curse from Gwendolyn, but still does not fall all the way. Still, she presents her holy symbol, and channels the light, aiding those that are /not/ evil clones by healing and supporting them. While she doesn't look completely recovered, it definitely seems to help, "Hmph. Vile abominations..." She rises back to her feet, a bit shakily, and looks over at those advancing towards Tarien's temple. "And it seems we are not yet done."
Tatyannah gets to the door of the temple and starts getting flashy with her spear, doing what she can to fight away the possessed common folk. "Don't let them in! We mustn't allow them to interrupt the ceremony." Yes, she's spilling the beans on the sekrit location of the ceremony, but then again, the blue eyed people kinda did it first.
The flash powder dazzles Oates. The farmboy steps away from his fight, blearily looking past the spots in his eyes as he regroups towards the temple.
Jareth has disconnected.
Elessa tries to throw off the arm from Gwendolyn but falls to her knees as all the illness wafts over ehr. The help from Sophia manages to get the most of it gone. "That was not fun in the slightest." She looks over back to the temple again but manages to get to her feet. "Looks like there are more things to kill. Shall we?"
While Oates is dazzled would be the perfect time for an attack from Aenyn. Unfortunately, that means he has to open his eyes and see....IT. His eyes widen in fear and he lets out a blood-curdling scream before he falls backwards. The scream dies out as his body hits the street and completely loses cohesion, turning into a vaguely humanoid-shaped puddle of waxy goo.
Serene has arrived.
Aenyn has disconnected.
Vennan manages to fight his way to Tatyannah's side, taking up a position beside her in order to menace the blue-glowing people with his blades. "We'll have to make our last stand here, then." He declares, grimly resolved.
Engaging. These men with their weapons of blue fire. These civilians in all their shapes and cofirutations. Elves. Dwarves. Humans. Goblins. All in the thrall of the queen. They charge in, overwhelming much of the militia who is unprepared to fight things with weapons that burn like fire and don't stop from their wounds. They don't even slow down. Those of you engaged are left little choice but to strike them down as heavily and as hard as possible. It's... ugly. Boody. When one man falls, those under the Queen's influencce quickly stop to strp the flesh from their bones in great long strings, charging at you with blood dripping fromn their mouths. The act of cannibalism grants them power, after all. At least when the QUeen is involved.
Cesran frowns as he sees the Aenyn drop to the ground and dissolve into black goo, 'Well I wasn't expecting that. I hope the real ones are okay." He starts to move up towards the temple and he looks at the ground, "Well I have some spells that would probably kill them, do we sacrifice them to save the city?"
"Yes," Tatyannah replies to Vennan. She shuts up and fights. She's on automatic at this point.
Tak is taking up position to defend the temple of tarien, mostly trying to keep the mob at bay with simple effects like grease and whatever else he can come up with. Tanglefoot bags, tripping folks with his whip, just whatever comes to mind to delay and distract.
Elessa gets up into position with the others and has her sword in hand, already covered in blood and goop from everything else. "I say we just take them down, I don't know if they can be saved. Any idea when this ritual will be over?" she asks, looking quite concerned that this might be taking longer than it should be. Of course, she knows nothing on religion and magic.
As Oates' vision clears up, he glances back at the puddle that was Aenyn, then forward to the posessed mob. The farmboy sighs and draws his cudgel, knocking them out with a nod of respect to the civilians they once were.
Sophia would dearly love to take a rest, considering all the damage that the vile Gwen did to her, but the luxury isn't there with the horde of blue-flaming possessed. So instead the enlarged cleric swings the flat of her blade, knocking them down as she doesn't strike to kill the possessed, despite their actions. "I don't know... I can't suggest killing them, not if they could be saved." She occasionally channels her divine energy to heal her companions, selectively healing them and the militia so they can keep up the defenses.
When the surge moves forward, Svarshan puts his blade away. He begins punching people. You know. With Mercy. It's totally a spell. Thing. Whatever.
Ahem.
In either case, a punch takes out one, and then another, but timed to disable.
Cesran nods as he has a few non-lethal spells and he casts one. Above the crowd a pattern of rainbow colored lights will begin to swirl that catches about 20 or so of the mobs attention. He focuses as he tries to get them to move off out of the way and away from the temple.
Verna trusts that Vardama will judge all appopriately when their time has come. That time is now for those charging the temple, as far as she is concerned. She continues to use what few gifts from her matron that remain against the glowing mob. Energy anathema to life is repeatedly released, focused when she must, indiscriminately when she can avoid weakening her fellow defenders.
BOOM
A booted foot kicks open the door to the Temple of Althea.
Brilliant light shines around the entryway atop the steps. A literally radiant Gwendolyn (thanks to a careful application of the Light spell, which for Paladins is a Level 1 Spell, becuase apparently Daeus hates paladins and full progression spellcasters get all the girls.
And boys.
Not that GWENDOLYN, EDELWEISS, KNIGHT OF THE BOOK cares about EITHER!
In a booming voice she cries out. "The tongue of the celestials calls to you! The Book of Light compels you! Fly to me now, and do what must be done!" She announces, striding out with book under her arm and sword aflame and glowing as she seeks out... Svarshan! To open the book before his eyes and allow him to read from it. She does /not/ let him hold it. She in fact lets nobody else touch or hold it (save Svarshen if he needs to turn the pages). She is very protective of the Book.
Jessa has disconnected.
The...oh heavens. Heaven and Fire. The sith's eyes widen just like Srassha's as Gwen holds the book out. He takes a careful step forward and then...kneels, and begins to read.
"Turn. The page," he whispers to Gwen at one point.
GWENDOLYN EDELWEISS, KNIGHT OF THE BOOK... Turns the page when prompted.
Book? THE Book. The Book of Light, writ in holy word. It glimmers there in the dim light. No--it blazes forth like the light of the very Sun. Somewhere in the midst of it--there's a voice.
A rough voice that can't believe he's having to. Talk.
Except it's a familiar lyric. A familiar tune. Just /different/.
It's the /Hymn/. A song familiar to every being, a song begun and touched by the Time of Creation.
Svarshan kneels before Gwendolyn and the Book and lets the book Sing. Through him.
It quite likely, quickly spreads. More voices picking up--like it's a living thing.
And it IS.
"Turn the. Page," whispered to Gwen.
Vennan looks about ready to keel over, wobbly, barely able to stand, much less fight. He seems to believe death is coming for him, in the form of the blue-eyed mob. But then the Hymn spreads, and a little flicker of hope appears in his face. "... Perhaps we'll make it through his after all." He says to Tatyannah, quietly
GWENDOLYN, KNIGHT OF THE BOOK, continues to turn the page when prompted. Her solemn duty guides her hand across the MOST HOLY BOOK. She deftly turns the page without crinkle or mar. It is the most Holy page-turning... Ever.
Until the next time she has to turn the page.
"We will," Tatyannah says to Vennan. "We will, and then we'll go find Jessa."
Cesran looks over as he sees Gwen come out of the temple. "I hope that's the real one." He looks back to try to continue to lead those that are affected by the rainbow pattern out of the area and away from the temple.
The Hymn.
The Eidolon Hymn.
The book is always where it needs to be, isn't it? One might've thought it odd that it wasn't used in the ritual -- what, with it being a Holy artifact of the entire Panethon of Light. But now it is here, having moved from threat in the TEmple of Daeus to its preservaton at the hands of heroes to being carried out to serve here at this exact moment, and this exact time. It is here.
The hymn bgins to rise, calling all of those to join into it. To sing wiht it. While you may not think you know the words, you /do/. Each of you do, in your heart. In every fiber of your being. The Eidolon Hymn /is/ the song of creation. The song of life. The song that gives birth to all that is and ever will be brought forth from the Source. It calls to you. Sing with it.
The blue-flamed weapons begin to dim. Those under the influence of the Queen begin to stumble. Creation, life, and love give proof to the lie of the nihilism of such a creature as the Azure Queen. HEr influence, her will, is waning.
Meanwhile, a great light begins to beam forth from the windows of the Temple of Tarien.
Oates catches his breath as the mob is guided away. He watches them go, only sapping any that stop following the rainbow lights, and even then only if they head back towards the temples.
Elessa stops fighting when the opponents do stop in turn, though turns over to Gwendolyn, the real one, to see her carrying a book, a very bright book. As the clone reads it, she is surprised of hearing the song coming from people. She feels it in herself as well, holding her sword but lowering it. It reminds her of the trip before, hearing the song resonate within her.
Sophia doesn't lower her sword, but raises it in a salute, her voice rising in Celestial as she sings the hymn in that tongue. She closes her eyes, letting the holy power that is the Hymn rise through her, permeating her being as she focuses her concentration on the words.
Tak gets all his powers from this thing, interesting to see it in action. He is carried along with the Hymn, joining in to help, getting lost in the effect of the Hymn.
Svarshan continues until the end notes begin to fire. Towards the end, he opens his eyes and looks around. Stands up. "May the Light. Protect you," to Gwen. He turns around on the steps, slowly, to to take the scene in. "May the light. Guide uss all."
Tatyannah stops fighting as the possessed people, slumping against the wall of Tarien's temple, exhausted, but there is this song, this beautiful, wonderful song and she begins to sing. So sad that she doesn't have the voice for it. But, maybe no one will notice since everyone else seems to be singing.
Cesran can't hold onto his spell as he feels the sing take care hold of him. He starts to sign in his deep voice along with the others.
A palpable feeling of energy fills all of you. The light from the TEmple of Tarien begins to brighten. Bright... /brighetn/ and then *explode* violently outwards. The windows all shatter. The roof literally /blows/ off the temple, raining rubble in all directions as the earth shakes. A great pillar of light beams into the sky from the Temple of Tarien, washing over the entire city in that single great blast as the hymn, with all of your voices joined in, seems to fill every street, alley, room, store, house. All of it. And then it...ends.
THose under the QUeen's influence just...drop. They hit the ground like puppets with theri strings cut. Unconscious, but alive.
Out of the front door of the Temple of Tarien comes a single, smoldering, baffled Tarienite with singed hair. It's actually Aenyn's father, for those who know.
"Best. Party. /Ever/," he manages to utter before pitching forward onto the ground unconscious.
And standing in front of the Temple of Tarien seemed like such a good idea to Vennan just moments ago. The shockwave of the blast knocks him right off his feet. It wasn't particularly difficult, given how wobbly he was to begin with.
Tak gets blown into the air, activating his levitating boots just in time to dangle upside down in the air, he sort of hangs there away, dazed from the blast a little.
Svarshan leaps for some of the former puppets. Covering them. It's a paladin thing.
(But first he has to argue with another paladin for the privilege).
Tatyannah shrieks and is blown away from the temple, and promptly thrown to the ground, puts her hands up over her head, protecting it from glass, even as she yells, "THAT IS NOT FUNNY!"
Sophia isn't knocked over from the blast, if only because she's currently a lot bigger than normal. She does, however, turn and raise her shield to cover not only herself but any just-freed puppets from the blast of power, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.
Cesran holds up the hem of his sleeve to protect his face as he narrows his eyes to watch the roof of the temple get blown off. He sees the cleric come out of the temple. "Is everyone okay in there?" He looks around for any other monsters or enemies to fight.
Oates hits the ground, holding on to minimize the effect of the shockwave. "That... was not what I was expecting," he gasps. "Not sure what I /was/ expecting, but that wasn't it."
THere is silence for a time, but then other Tarienites begin to dig themsleves out of the smoldering wreckage of their temple. It's not destroyed, but it's /definitely/ not in the best of shape, as to the priests of other faiths that were inside it with them. An escort is helping Highfather Samuel out.
Beyond the wreckage, though., there is a significant feeling of.../peace/. A sense of normalcy that'd been absent in these many months since the dreams of the Queen first st ared to plague Alexandria. HEr lingering presnce, feelable in the backs of the mind of many, is now /absent entirely/. She's gone.
Those who were delayed (JAreth, Aenyn, Jessa and Gwendolyn) are accounted for as well, as they begin to trickle into the square in the aftermath. There is the occasional blue spark -- left over energy -- from the fallen... but they all mostly seem at peace now. The Queen is just.. /gone/.