Seat of Our Noble Line (Part 12)
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d2: (2): 2
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+28: (13)+28: 41 GAME: Seldan casts Paladin's Sacrifice. Caster Level: 8 DC: 22 GAME: Riptide rolls 17d6: (59): 59
The Rhain Padaryn that has descended from the ceiling is an unhappy sight. A blade's buried in his heart, his right eye missing and glowing bright blue. His rage is delivered in a constant bellow.
"YOU WILL NOT HAVE THE EYE!" He surges forward and reaches out with a horrible, incorporeal hand at Telamon--but Seldan's magic surges from the paladin, and the blow that should have gone for the half-sil sorcerer goes instead to the Silverguard, staggering him upon impact.
GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/religion: (1)+22: 23 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/religion: (7)+22: 29
The blue and silver flash of light between Seldan and Telamon is momentary, but in its wake it leaves Seldan staggering and dropping to one knee. He plants one fist on the floor to force himself back to his feet, gasping out, "He - he is a soulpierced! The blade - pull the blade, or he will rejuvenate himself! He is imprisoned and yet healed by that thing - we must - we must release him!"
He touches the breastplate of his armor, as a last effort, and it briefly flashes white.
GAME: Zeke rolls 10d6: (43): 43
The sound of Rhain Padaryn's voice draws Zeke quickly back into the midst of the fray, a pulse of the Dragonfather's healing power spreading outward from the sith-makar. He nods low to Seldan, and turns his green eyes on the vision of Seldan's ancestor which stands before them. "We will do ssso then."
GAME: Telamon casts Shades. Caster Level: 20 DC: 29 GAME: Telamon casts Dimension Door/Quicken. Caster Level: 20 DC: 27 GAME: Telamon rolls sorcerer+4: (18)+20+4: 42 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+25: (8)+25: 33 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+25: (3)+25: 28 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+25: (6)+25: 31
Telamon's face goes white as the ghostly specter lunges at him, but Seldan takes the blow and Tel looks at him in a bit of a panic. Then experience takes over -- he can't hang around here and try to fence with the damned thing, and pulling the sword out might be a bit beyond Telamon's slender physique. "I'm not leaving you alone here, Sir Seldan!" He draws himself up, backing away from Rhain, and begins to chant. His voice rises and falls, and huge billows of inky blackness spill from his cupped hands, piling up fast.
What emerges is a hulking cloudlike form like a thunderstorm, with a single blazing eye where its head should be. Massive fists slam down, narrowly missing the specter, as Telamon snaps a single word and vanishes in a flash of light to reappear at Verna's side.
GAME: Verna casts Ghostbane Dirge. Caster Level: 19 DC: 19 GAME: Verna casts Control Undead. Caster Level: 19 DC: 25 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+25-2: (4)+25+-2: 27 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+25-2: (1)+25+-2: 24 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Verna rolls 1d20+20+4+2: (17)+20+4+2: 43 GAME: Verna rolls 1d20+20+4+2: (9)+20+4+2: 35
This is ... decidedly unpleasant. All restless spirits are empowered by negative energy, and oft strong emotional residue... but this one has a potential connection to The Void, itself. That is a well of possible unlimited power, or infinite anathema to life. In addition to its apparent desire to apply such. (And which he so kindly already demonstrated upon her brother-by-bond). Also, he is incorporeal, to boot. So there are two issues to address, and she attempts to tend to both.
Her left hand clutches at her scales as she beseeches the Harpist whilst the other gestures. She may not cast quite as visually as Seldan, yet there are brief traces left of negative energy as her fingers move. This entity is powered by such... which also means that it is bound to the same. The Sage Mourner then releases two bursts of negative energy upon him: one from her Mistress' Hall and one from her own gathering. One seeks to force Rhain into full corporeality in this space, while the other wraps into the very threats of power making him yet exist.
"You will harm no other, no more! Remain where you are! Remove the weapon in your chest and cast it down!"
The entity that wears the guise of the Void-tortured Rhain Padaryn stills entirely at Verna's command. The spell that seeks to make him corporeal falls away from him without complaint, but Verna's Mistress is a kind one. She grants her the small mercy of commanding.
"Yes," Rhain Padaryn says, softly. And then... His hand goes to touch the sword embedded into his chest. He pulls on it... But the increasing sounds of discomfort cause more tears to spill anew on his face. "I--I cannot, I cannot, I--Eluna help me," he pleads. He's wracked in agony, however, as he continues to pull, continues to follow Verna's command to the very letter.
Forced to torture himself.
GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/religion: (20)+22: 42 GAME: Seldan rolls cmb: (1)+23: 24 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Seldan rolls cmb: (8)+23: 31 GAME: Seldan rolls perform/sing: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL)
"Verna, bid him release it, I will remove it for him!" Seldan's usually-steady features twist with shared agony at the sight of him torturing himself, and he immediately races forward, the glittering black substance once again erupting from his skin and beginning to coat his face, the only skin still visible beneath the armor.
Swiftly and without hesitation, he grasps the wicked-looking blade in both hands, and begins to - sing.
"I will unveil what has been veiled. I will reveal what has been forgotten."
The sound is - a pale whisper of the beautiful tones, but there can be no doubt that it is meant to be the self-same tune. A tune burned into his memory, never to be relinquishes, though the pale, wan, and scratchy tones he sings with, the notes barely a memory in the flesh - only because they have heard them before could any guess what they are supposed to be. Yet is the meaning clear - it is Eluna's selfsame prayer, the call to Reunion.
"I will sing to you the name you know, I will sing to you the home you have, Reunion, Reunion, we reunite the souls, Reunion, Reunion, we reunite the family, Reunion, Reunion, I sing you on your way: Reunion, Reunion, I sing you safely home."
On the last word, he _pulls_ with all of his strength, yanking the blade from its mooring.
Rhain Padaryn's eyes, pouring with tears, yells in agony as Seldan grabs the blade in his hands. The blue eye glows brightly, but then the Silverguard begins to sing. The voice cannot match up to the goddess's song, but he'd be a fool to even try to measure up. What matters is the earnestness in Seldan's voice. What matters are the words of the song itself.
The blade pulls free, sliding out of Rhain upon the very last word: home. Home is what this place should be--once was--but now it appears to be the word that will liberate this Rhain Padaryn. The sword that Seldan pulls out fades away into nothingness.
Rhain looks lighter. A million times lighter. Like he might float away. The blue eye in his right eye socket still glows. To Seldan, he says only a few words. "Take the Eye." No--the eye. The one Telamon has. "Now you've found it--now you've freed me--there's only one thing left to do now. The eye of the anchor--put Reunion through it. Please."
His eyes close. "And then be ready for what comes next."
The man fades away, like smoke from a candle. Gone.
The massive air elemental starts to raise its fists again, but pauses as Rhain is locked down by Verna's spell, held in place so Seldan could free him. Once the blade is drawn free, and the ghost vanishes, Telamon approaches, still a little pale, but his expression composed.
"So..." he starts, before swallowing and holding up the jar with the eye in it. "Did he mean this eye? If so... I guess you need to hit it with Reunion, Sir Seldan." He glances around. "Do we do it here? Or outside?"
Zeke watches Rhain Padaryn fade from existence; gone on the words of his kin. Gone without a trace. He nods once, and takes one last look around the ruined room. In truth, Telamon's words only birth more questions for Zeke. Word puzzles (particularly those in Tradespeak) are not his forte. "Thissss one did not sssee a ssship."
As Verna has noted on more than one occasion, all here is Seldan's prerogative. Thus she releases, or rather directs Rhain to release, as she is bidden. Then mere moments later, the spirit is gone. Freed. Departed. As it should be. As all should be.
Nearly. It is the last words from the spirit that gives her pause. "It is that eye, and not the epicenter of the diagram?" She is somewhat uncertain, herself, given the varied definitions of the word, much less all the possible metaphorical uses. She looks from Seldan to Zeke to Telamon. "Outside of this room, this realm, or the manse?"
The force of the pull sends Seldan staggering backwards a step, and he casts the benighted weapon in his hand to the floor, as close to the desk as he can get it without potentially hitting anyone with it. "He refers to the eye - the center - of the diagram. The bloodstains in the hall - are the diagram's center - its eye." He sounds strained, but a note of satisfaction rings through the steady words.
Swiftly, he touches his armor again, then draws Reunion. "Reunion, the star-knife, does it please you," he tells it firmly. "Let us release this - but -"
He pauses, and turns to the others. "Be prepared to swiftly exit this place - and be prepared for battle. I know not what will come."
A gentle knock comes at the door before Cosette enters, allowing herself in. The headless maid gives a curtsy before the group ahead.
"It appears that the house is, for the moment, lightened of its burdens." Cosette's voice is a polite, yet very clearly relieved tone. "The fractions of my former master have gone where they ought to. I worry that, given enough time, facsimiles of them may be created by that which keeps me anchored here... But should you wish for one more respite before that which you are to do, I will endeavor to aid as best I can." Telamon exhales at Seldan's advice. "You're right. This is just... a trace, I guess." He holds onto the jar as he glances up at the elemental. With a gesture, he dismisses the shadow-creature, causing it to dissipate into wisps of smoke and fog. "So we need to break the diagram, then escape."
When Cosette enters, his head snaps around, but his expression softens. "It... went easier than we expected, Cosette. Mostly thanks to a timely spell from my sister." He tosses Verna a grin, before looking to the others. "I think we should finish this, but I'll defer to Sir Seldan, as he took the brunt of the abuse from that... thing."
Verna startles initially as Cosette enters, though relaxes upon the familiar... voice. "We are grateful once more for your hospitality, yet I am in agreement." She looks to Telamon first, then to Seldan. "I believe that we should free all while the opportunity is presented. Moreso if some fragment of him might reform. I am prepared to stand beside all, or evacuate all, as needs dictate."
Zeke looks at Seldan, the black covering his wounds and hesitantly stands there in the middle of the room. He knows that the wounds will heal, but that does not dilute their pain or their existence. Only... Seldan has always been one to underplay such things. "Thisss one hass more healing to offer if desssired. If a ressst isss needed, thisss one will do ssso. Thisss one isss not in need." His stomach gurgles quietly.
Seldan looks up when Cosette enters the room, and regards her steadily. "You have my thanks, Cosette, and you as well, Verna. A timely spell indeed." An inclination of the head towards Verna is brief, and he turns his attention back to Cosette. "My companions are prepared to continue, and so, too, shall I."
Even as he speaks, Fallia cuts in. "I thought you'd never ask, Seldan. I remember Ivyhold in its full glory, and it is painful to see it now. Finish this. I hope it can be saved." In his hand, the longsword there shifts and twists, taking on the form of the star-knife, with the same runes, and jewels at its center.
He looks down at himself, and draws a deep, slow breath. "This may be the last time that we speak, Cosette. Know this - that you have served the Padaryn family, and Rhain, faithfully and well. Do you find yourself released, and know not where to find the Halls, you need but find me, and I shall aid you. This do I swear."
Cosette lingers in the doorway for a long moment. Her hands go to the hem of her nice maid's outfit, and quietly, she admits, "I--I had lost hope that this day might ever come. I simply hope that... It works. That it works and it is done and finished at the very end."
She curtsies again before Seldan, holding there a long moment. "I thank you for your kind compliments and words--and should I still remain when the house is finally and fully freed--I will seek you out. For now... And perhaps forever, then... Farewell."
The headless maid turns on her heel and walks away to her room across the hall, shutting the door. The house is still. The house is quiet.
Telamon reaches up to brush his hand across his face, dashing away a tear. But his voice is steady, as he looks to the others. "They've been waiting a long time for us to set them free. Let's not make them wait any longer." His face becomes set with resolve.
"No more ghosts. We finish this, so they can finally rest." He moves to stand next to Verna, flexing his fingers. "I'm ready."
Zeke nods to Telamon, moving to the door and standing beside it. "Thisss one isss alssso ready." He will follow in Seldan's wake. As he always does. It is not his to lead this day, but his kin's.
"We stand ready with you, Seldan," Verna notes. "Whatever may arise next."
"As you have ever done," Seldan murmurs, watching her go and lowering his eyes to the bloodstained floor at his feet. "All of you. Come, let us make an end of this." The black, glittery stuff still coats him, and it takes a good, long, hard moment before he can move - he still sounds strained, but presses on nonetheless.
He starts towards the door, opening it with one hand, the star-knife in the other. Once in the hallway beyond, his eyes unerringly seek out the center of the diagram - the center of the bloodstains - and he stands before it.
Telamon follows Seldan as well out into the hall, mentally reviewing his magics, his options as needed. Especially the ones that might be needed for a quick getaway. He takes a moment to run his fingertips over the simple gold band on his finger, the wreath and stars on the back of his hand. His eyes close a moment, then open again.
"Do it, Sir Seldan. I will be ready to snatch us from this place if things go awry."
Zeke, as intended, follows in Seldan's wake. He offers no further words really, he's a sith of few of them, and he feels that none are truly needed now. They are after all, of a like mind on the matter of what must be done, and what they intend to do. Instead he offers a silent prayer to the Dragonfather. Asking the god that has already done so much for him, to look down upon their efforts here. He asks for no favor. Asks for no request to be granted, only that they might be seen, that their efforts not go unnoticed.
Again, Seldan draws a deep breath, closes his eyes, and breathes out, the words of a silent prayer to the Dreamer that she, as so many times before, guide his hand, straight and true. Then, without another word, he drops to a crouch and slams one of the points of the star-knife straight into the center - the eye - of the diagram that holds the manor and its occupants hostage.
The blade plunges into the floor. And it's like the world is plunged into darkness. And it's like everyone is falling--
No.
Everyone _is_ falling.
It goes on forever and instantly all at once. A contradiction, like Rhain Padaryn himself. Alive. Dead. With an eye. With an Eye. Falling into an eternal black.
But then comes little pinpricks of light. Stars, like the ones that dance in Telamon's eyes when he's amused. They rush into view and then it becomes clear. A field of stars, out in the interstellar ways of the cosmos. Is it the true cosmos or is this another quirk of the house? Is there a way to tell?
Then comes the horrible ringing through the ears of a _voice_ that carves through the head. Everyone's heads. It's screaming at first. A million voices crying out in pain for absolution. An infernal choir of those tortured--and then there's Rhain Padaryn's voice, but far beyond his usual cadence.
"You. You have brought yourselves here to the final dominion between earth and nothing."
In the field of shining stars, beautiful and glittering, a massive black hole forms, churning and destroying stars within its wake. But something... emerges from the center. A gargantuan form. A mass of tentacles that rise into the familiar torso, arms, and face of a tortured man. Wearing the last piece of Rhain Padaryn like a marionette given macabre flesh. Its singular magic blue eye burns brightly. Black tears track down its face. But there is no emotion on the lips, none in the one normal blue eye. Nothing.
"Return to nothing."
The figure lifts its hands. Reality quivers and shakes.
"RETURN TO ZERO."
Suddenly they're falling. Through space itself. The familiar stars, for this is a view Telamon has seen, dreamed of in many a night. No fear to him, though this is somewhat inconvenient. He just needs to get them together so they can jaunt out of here--
The screams throw him out of his reverie, causing him to react in horror. And as they plummet, he sees the void trap rearing up, the one-way door to the Void Beyond All Things. It is one thing to speak of the void between places -- much like the space between letters, or the empty places between stars, that exists even though it has no form. This thing, rearing up, is oblivion itself.
His eyes blaze with captive starlight. His hands clench. And he spits back in the face of oblivion with contempt in his eyes. "Never. Let there be -light-!"
Zeke is falling. An infinite distance in the sparkling nothing. Suddenly, he's not falling anymore. Golden wings sprout from his back and... Wings? Zeke can see them as they move at the corners of his vision, flashes of gold. He can feel them, as though they are a part of him. As real as if he had been born with them. Zeke, who was born lacking two of his limbs, quite suddenly has two more where there were none before.
He has heard on occasion, of sith who regain their wings, but he has no idea in this moment if they will be his forever, or if they are only here to hold him up for a time. However... He feels them. They beat to the rhythm of his heart and he looks at the image of the creature before them wearing the image of Seldan's ancestor.
How can this being crave nothing, when the splendor of creation lies right before it?
His voice is strong and loud in the nothing, carrying like Telamon's. In this moment, he is not afraid of being seen, being heard. He carries the Dragonfather's power inside him, as a part of him. There is no hesitation. Only the truth. "Let there be -hope-."
A sudden envelopment in darkness? Not completely unexpected. Falling? That is a bit disorienting. Worst, perhaps, is that the group may be somewhat separated by the fall; this is second only to the sudden cacophony of screaming voices. Verna steels her thoughts against them, even as it shifts to a voice more singular. Nothingness given a mockery of form?
"The Cycle is endless. Infinite." Even in the presence of The Oblivion that is the definition of the exception, she will hold to her beliefs. Life and death are neither beginning nor end, and only another step along the endless path.
And - they are falling. The screams, at first, echo the very ones inside Seldan's own head. Both memories, and more recent things, even as the spikes of pain as his flesh mends itself subside into a quiet echo of knives in the night. Whether it is adrenaline, or true relief, is hard to say - he finds himself flooded even with more than before, after all that has happened, the moment he sets eyes on the true form of the one holding Rhain.
"There you are," he snarls, half to himself. The words of his companions suffuse him, surround him, call to him. "Let there be -faith-! For She guides my hand, and my blade, and the Light guides our hearts!"
-TBC