Into the Temple - Part 11
Log Info
- Title: Into the Temple - Part 11
- GM: Whirlpool
- Place: Felwood
The oppressive atmosphere that was gathering seems to briefly lift after Rune's employment of those golden scissors. Whatever threads were connecting you to fate's misfortune have been severed, and you can feel a shift in the air.
Never the less, the twin Skulls -- which now rotate around each other in sync -- hardly seem perturbed by it. Then again, it would be hard for them to emote as such anyway, given that they're just almost vacant eyed skulls in the first place.
From the ground up, that faux-opal-gemstone begins to crackle to life beneath them, building upward in a crooked and off-putting way, all jagged edge and sharp angles that play havoc on an eye looking into it. A deep, guttural set of howls come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The great magicite stone behind the skulls begins to fill with swimming black threads even as the silver fire contained within brightens as well.
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+12: (15)+12: 27 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+12: (10)+12: 22 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+12: (5)+12: 17 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+12: (5)+12: 17 GAME: Aelwyn rolls weapon11-4+1+1: (12)+19+-4+1+1: 29 GAME: Aelwyn uses an AoO! 3 remaining. GAME: Aelwyn rolls damage11+1d6+1: aliased to 1d10+6+1d6+1: (9)+6+(1)+1: 17 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: Aelwyn rolls fortitude: (9)+14: 23
More of them. More of these black, shadowy things peeled from nightmare and born from the hatred and demonstrable torture of things with existences beyond what you can know. More of them climb from the mirrors, from the walls, from the ceilings, from the opals, a dozen of them easily now, comingling and merging as they strike forward. Some seek to crown Ravenstongue, who is able to avoid their harm, and the others swarm against Aelwyn, whose protective blade has sheltered the others by culling those who dared close and drawing their attention.
Either way, they're getting to be a problem.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Overwhelming Presence. Caster Level: 20 DC: 33 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+20+4: (13)+20+4: 37 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (20)+11: 31 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (6)+11: 17 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (3)+11: 14 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (19)+11: 30 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (2)+11: 13 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (12)+11: 23 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (15)+11: 26
More have come. More are coming. While Lana has made some of the enemies rather occupied with dancing, there is the matter of the ones that are around Cor'lana and her allies that are brand new to the soiree.
"Okay." Cor'lana takes in a sharp breath, looking terribly embarrassed. "This had better work or I'm going to look like a tremendous idiot. I mean, I will look like one anyway, but..." When has that ever stopped Cor'lana from trying to charm people despite her complete and utter anxiety?
She lifts her hand in a fist over her head. It's the most authoritative stance Cor'lana can think of. All of the built-in anxiety she's had through her life courses through her. It's her secret to enchantment magic. She's taken a lifetime of wanting people to like her (so they wouldn't throw stones at her for being half-sil; so they wouldn't jeer and her and call her names for her half-pointed ears) and weaponized it.
"Behold me! For I am blessed by Vaire and Ni'essa both in song and in visage!" she demands with magic sparking off of her lips. The enemies before her--all but one--obey. They prostrate themselves before her.
Cor'lana's fist trembles in the air as she breathes out, "Holy shit, that worked." It's the second time she's cast that spell and it still feels weird.
GAME: Eztli rolls 1d20+13: (14)+13: 27 GAME: Eztli rolls 13d6: (53): 53 GAME: Eztli casts Fire Snake. Caster Level: 13 DC: 23
With more shadows, more power transferring between them, but also more of them bending their knees. Deciding to stop more of them from appearing, the makari turned dragon roared mightily, spraying more flames into the room that streak through the space and through several of the mirrors, leaving molten slag in their wake. "Yeah, some folks get all the luck and the stunning good looks." said dragon grumbles loudly.
GAME: Silmeria rolls ranged+1+2+3+1: (18)+11+1+2+3+1: 36 GAME: Silmeria rolls ranged+1+2+3+1: (2)+11+1+2+3+1: 20 GAME: Silmeria rolls ranged+1+2+3+1-5: (5)+11+1+2+3+1+-5: 18 GAME: Silmeria rolls ranged+1+2+3+1: (13)+11+1+2+3+1: 31 GAME: Silmeria rolls ranged+1+2+3+1-5: (12)+11+1+2+3+1+-5: 25 GAME: Silmeria rolls 1d6+2+4d6+2+1d6+1+1+1d6: (5)+2+(14)+2+(1)+1+1+(4): 30 GAME: Silmeria rolls 1d6+2+4d6+2+1d6+1+1+1d6: (1)+2+(15)+2+(4)+1+1+(4): 30 GAME: Silmeria rolls 1d6+2+4d6+2+1d6+1+1+1d6: (5)+2+(13)+2+(5)+1+1+(1): 30
More of the shades step into the chaos. Still more creatures of darkness and damnation, whose deaths will empower their fellows to still greater heights. A more effective solution needs to be found, but for the moment, all Silmeria can do is try to thin the herd.
As Ravenstongue demands their adoration, her shoulders sag with relief. Such powerful magics have a way of guaranteeing their enemies are on the back foo--
Hang on.
One of them still stands tall.
"DID," the Speaker roars, "YOU NOT. HEAR. THE LADY."
Her hand blurs thrice, and the empowered gun tolls in her hand, loosing a trio of bullets that drown and discorporate the once-demon in a torrent of magical destruction.
"Reflect on your shame."
GAME: Harkashan rolls Reflex+1: (16)+15+1: 32 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+16: (19)+16: 35 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 20d6: (70): 70 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+32: (5)+32: 37
A pair of bleached white skulls circling each other, empty eye sockets observing the room, twisting a slight adjustment of its course to observe as Rune flies -- with those scissors. There's a stutter to its motions, a wave of palpable excitement, almost, emanating from it. Like this is something new. Something it has not seen in centuries.
...something that gives it hope.
Opal dust refines into a shape, a great grasping hand that lashes out towards Rune. It simply must have those scissors, and it will find a way to take them.
The second, however, remains consumed with proximity. The shared consciousness between them leads it to quickly recognize Harkashan's danger. More of this opal being generated cracks off from the central bulk, still growing to an obscene size before two great slabs of it are brought together against the cleric in a blow that hits like a thunderbolt and explodes once more into dust and shards, leaving the Sith prone, but otherwise none the worse for wear, a testament to his enduring power.
GAME: Carver rolls weapon7 -3: (2)+17+-3: 16 GAME: Carver rolls weapon7-3: (10)+17+-3: 24 GAME: Carver rolls weapon7-3: (13)+17+-3: 27 GAME: Carver rolls weapon7-8: (13)+17+-8: 22 GAME: Carver rolls weapon7-3: (2)+17+-3: 16 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+6: (7)+6: 13 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+6: (5)+6: 11 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+6: (4)+6: 10
There is a high, keening note pitching through the battle's great trumpets. Carver's wailing hyena laughing is fit for a full-on manic breakdown, a simple ranger severely out of place in a fight she did not come prepared for or even understand who was calling or why. She does now. These are the 'fights' where heroes are made and people like her disappear into history. That only a select few are truly fit to survive.
It's hilarious. She throws up an arm to block loose debris as the temple is shaken by the Lich's magic that tosses both a Deathsinger and Brutality's Beautiful Butterfly around like ragdolls.
She points into the blinding illuminance that Ravenstongue beckons into reality. "See that, you disgustin' pile of used washrags an' watermelon-headed idjits? That's power earned by hard work and flesh and blood and spirit and gall. That's the friggin' INDY-GO BORE-AL-IS! THIS ONE'S A DRAGON. A PRETTY ONE TOO. You're so cooked I wouldn't even make you into a stew!" The boom of Silmeria's thunderbelcher drowns out the rest of her frenzied taunting, eyes wider and pupils blown open like the stars above as she is yanked into another vision as she focuses on the one job she can contribute to this insanity.
Petty god damn vandalism.
GAME: Aelwyn rolls weapon11-4+2+1+1: (11)+19+-4+2+1+1: 30 GAME: Aelwyn rolls damage11+1d6+12+1: aliased to 1d10+6+1d6+12+1: (10)+6+(5)+12+1: 34
The burning glaive twirls around as Aelwyn turns his head, snarling as more of the vile magics gets turned around. Vile, as in, not the fire kind. Blood falls from his fresh wound, but he ignores it completely. All the noises are drowned out as he constantly attempts to keep a track of the most important. Threats, fire, and allies. The largest of the makari gets slammed into once again, but seems to have brushed off yet another calamity.
One shall not pause to awe. "One of you dragons, raise me at them!" The ruddy sith-makari shouts as he points at the skulls. "I desire to crush those skulls into powder!" rAfter the statement, he gives his shoulders a roll and picks a straight line to basically rush into one of the mirrors and crushing it into pieces.
GAME: Harkashan casts Summon Monster IX. Caster Level: 18 DC: 29
Rune's presence certainly has become impossible to ignore. The normally shadow-wreathed young woman being as bright as she is now - is certainly something to behold. But right now, Harkashan can't give her the attention she deserves, as he kneels down. Watching the various beings being to flood outwards onto the battlefield.
In midst of kneeling down, two massive rocks come his way. He just barely rolls out of the way of getting pinned by the two of them fully, though ends up with his tail rather heavily 'scrunched', before laying his hands together, holding a lavacrystal, and quickly placing it to the ground. Sigils beginning to grow around him, spreading out from the floor where he 'plants' the Lava Crystal.
"Keep me safe for a moment!" He calls out to the team as he begins to chant, holding back the wince of his tail getting broken by big rocks. Small rocks beginning to slowly float around him as a powerful spell begins to burn from his position. The air beginning to shudder around him. Small pinpricks of silver-red light - almost like lasers - carving through invisible windows in space and lancing down upon the ground near him. Engraving the circle that is forming around him.
GAME: Rune rolls weapon1+1+1+1: (17)+26+1+1+1: 46 (THREAT) GAME: Rune rolls weapon1+1+1+1: (8)+26+1+1+1: 37 GAME: Rune rolls damage1+damage1+1: aliased to 1d6+4+1d6+4+1: (5)+4+(1)+4+1: 15
It was in that moment, that Rune knew that she had gotten the would-be lich's attention. Her feet barely touch the ground before a giant grasping hand flails out at her, causing Rune duck underneath it, rolling herself against the ground to avoid the impact and then back to her feet. "Shit... that was a little too close."
Still holding the scissors, she takes a moment to whisper the command word to shift them back to their original form: "Hide." It changes back into a puzzle necklace in her palm.
Then, she turns to look at the remaining mirror, gritting her teeth. "I really don't want to do this." The idea of having to face the barrage of images from the mirror has her nearly hesitating, but the rogue slams the remaining short blade's hilt against the glass with remarkable force, sending spiderweb cracks up through the glass.
For the others, it seems as of Rune has fallen still the moment the glass shatters. Frozen with her eyes staring into the mirror. Unlike the first time, there is no horror in her eyes, only a look of confusion shown by a slight drawing of her brows as her lips press into a thin line.
Then, as if that moment were broken, she steps back, shaking her head. She runs a hand through her hair as if confirming something, then looks at Harkashan with that same uncertain expression. Girl has seen some shit, it seems.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Banishment. Caster Level: 20 DC: 28 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+20+4: (10)+20+4: 34
There are too many shades. Cor'lana has tried her best to lock them down, but there are too many of them to kill without hurting her allies. She's not nearly a fraction so cruel as to do that. But she can try and banish them back from where they came.
Cor'lana summons up power again. "I banish you! Back to your domain! Back from where you came!" And then they disappear far too easily, and then a look of horror crosses Cor'lana's face.
"Shit." She puts her head into her hands. "Those were ancient demons that have been trapped here. No wonder they didn't resist."
Harkashan's spell finishes, and the breach in space seems to rip open.
A single claw rips through, grabbing to 'this side' of reality. Then another shatters the fragile existence of reality's walls. Slowly, the carved threshold is shattered. Pieces of reality falling to the ground as a Sacred Dragon bursts its head through first, and then slowly steps onto the ground on its hind legs. A halo around its head. Ravenstongue would be the only one to recognize it.
The very Angel that Verna and Harkashan once resurrected. The keeper of that Hammer. A fierce dragon now.
"A foul Lich seeks to become a Fake God! I beseech you, help us halt it!" The Sith-makar calls out.
Harkashan, upon Rune's prompting, then takes her Necklace, right as the Angel-Dragon reaches out to both Aelwyn and Rune, picking them up with its massive claws, and hoisting them up to itself...
And prepares for battle.
GAME: Rune rolls weapon1+1+1+1+2: (12)+26+1+1+1+2: 43 GAME: Rune rolls damage1+1+1d6+9d6: aliased to 1d6+4+1+1d6+9d6: (6)+4+1+(4)+(28): 43
Though the confusion of her vision still lingers, Rune turns away to focus on the battle at hand. There are certain limitations that she has, given the situation. Usually, there is a lot of positioning and trickery that goes into her attacks.
And then there is a dragon. "Uh..." She stares for a moment, then reaches a hand out towards Harkashan. "I'm going to be getting up close and personal, so you should take this, just incase." Because that is not something she wants falling into the 'wrong' hands.
The dragon flings Rune into the air as she gets close, her butterfly wings extending to take to the air as she draws out her other blade in the process with her free hand. Sweeping around to the opposite side of the floating skulls. One of her blades swings out, looking to catch whatever might be vulnerable in the process.
"...IS THERE NOW."
The entire inner workings of the temple seem to shudder with the booming words that spill forth from the dragon -- and yet, you do not hear it with your ears. Nothing audible is spoken. Instead, its words seem to cleave straight to your soul. It raises its head, tongue flicking against the sky. You might miss the edge of concern and rage that fills its eye.
"...no," it rumbles, "it can't be."
But then it shakes off its concern and the terrifying implication that something could concern it in the first place, and shoulders its way towards the expressionless aura of the lich, serving as steed and guide for Rune and Aelwyn to deliver their strikes.
"THIS ONE HAS DWELLED TOO LONG IN THIS HOLY PLACE, ONCE SERVANT NOW BEFOULER. YOU WILL BE REDEEMED."
A sense of power is growing around it, now, gathering strength.
"ELUNA, WITNESS THESE MORTALS, GRANT THEM THE FATE TO DELIVER THIS JUSTICE."
GAME: Eztli rolls 18d6: (68): 68
Eztli was not expecting what came through to be a massive dragon, angel, importantly a dragon. In any other situation, the makari might be overwhelmed with awe, or struck stupid by any compliments, but there was still a threatening lich and an ever growing pillar of crystal. "Stay safe okay?" Eztli growls back, slinking around the room till she had a clear line on the skulls where they both get engulfed in searing flames, that have less of an effect than expected. "Damn things must have some elemental wards up."
GAME: Silmeria rolls ranged+1+2+3+1: (4)+11+1+2+3+1: 22 GAME: Silmeria rolls ranged+1+2+3+1: (19)+11+1+2+3+1: 37 GAME: Silmeria rolls ranged+1+2+3+1-5: (18)+11+1+2+3+1+-5: 31 GAME: Silmeria rolls 1d6+2+4d6+2+1d6+1+1+1d6: (1)+2+(15)+2+(5)+1+1+(4): 31 GAME: Silmeria rolls 1d6+2+4d6+2+1d6+1+1+1d6: (5)+2+(9)+2+(4)+1+1+(2): 26
With the presence of one of Heaven's own drakes, Silmeria smiles tightly, sensing the tide of battle has turned considerably. "Mori," she murmurs to get weapon, "Let's do our Lady proud, shall we?
<< CONFIRMED >>
The cavernous room fills with the peal of thunder, lightning, and fire, of the ringing of great silver bells, as shot after shot crashes into one of the two skulls.
The skulls are suddenly stopping their spinning. They turn towards each other and a point of light emerges between them. It starts to grow into an orb, growing, growing, swirling power into it.
That's probably not a good thing.
GAME: Carver rolls weapon7+2: (11)+17+2: 30 GAME: Carver rolls weapon7+2: (17)+17+2: 36 GAME: Carver rolls weapon7+2: (6)+17+2: 25 GAME: Carver rolls weapon7-3: (6)+17+-3: 20 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Carver rolls 2d8+20: (4)+20: 24 GAME: Aelwyn rolls perform/dance+2: (19)+15+2: 36 GAME: Aelwyn rolls weapon11-4+1+1+2: (9)+19+-4+1+1+2: 28 GAME: Aelwyn rolls damage11+12+1d6: aliased to 1d10+6+12+1d6: (10)+6+12+(5): 33
After shattering the mirror, Aelwyn too seems to be caught up with whatever affliction those mirrors inhabit. His eyes widen - and then he shakes his head, once more pointing at the skulls. "The only wall that shall shatter is made out of bone." He states with a low growling hiss, already starting to walk forward.
The ruddy sith-makar had been ignoring what Harkashan had been doing. Magic has a habit of doing that, unless it is fire. Yet no more. His attention is directed straight towards the emerging dragon, and the ruddy Dragoon's orange slit pupils widen. Then his body is thrown atop the dragon.
There was sudden calmness. Sharp focus. A cold across his body.
Quickly getting hold of the celestial being's scales, Aelwyn rolls around and gets up onto crouch, swinging his blade towards the side. It sparks flames in fury. "The fates shan't intervene, for our blades alone will be enough to end this!" He shouts. His glaive makes a loose looping motion in the air - before it abruptly is held out straight. "I shall end this." The ruddy sith gets up on his feet atop the dragon, and swings a long, downward strike towards the skulls. He then falls onto the dragon's back; somehow magically holding on.
The glaive is brought down and he holds it near the tip; bathing his arm in fire. The fire returns to him.