Forums

"Hey you!" ... The good intentions and the pain... Lay drowned now in the pouring rain. ... It's not raining. It's not... anything. Was this death? "You can't pass here. It's not your time." There was a faint light far ahead in Cerik's vision. A voice, as if speaking from far away, entered his ear. "Sir Knight. I am Alexios. General of Aligoria, and High Commander of the Shadow Guard. I am here on the behest of Princess Sibyla. Allow me to take the Dead-Eye Monocle, and bear it into the cave just up the peak in your stead. I swear on my honor, I will collect the power dormant there with the Monocle, and then return it to you, empowered." The knight gave a weak nod of assent and a muffled yes- in reality, at least. Wherever he found his mind in, it had been much a stronger response there. ------ In reality, General Alexios had nodded in his turn and then spoken to Maria. "Forgive my sudden appearance, my good lady. Even now, the Princess moves to engage Imryll Duskbane-" A loud pop sounded as a wave of power breifly washed past them. Above them, a sphere of white fire and a sphere of black fire collided, a figure within each hard to make out but visible. "-and it is up to you which you will support. You can, of course, choose to try and slip away while they are so engaged. But if you choose that path, I must warn you of this." He pointed to the west. Over the ocean, there was what seemed to be a wall of solid darkness slowly but inevitably approaching- tearing up the land before it and sucking it into the void, where it fully disappeared from view. "You will have to escape from that. And I cannot guarantee you will find sanctuary on your own. Aid the Shadow Princess, and I swear to you that we will lead you straight to sanctuary after the First Sage of Light is dealt with. Whatever you choose... your actions will make it clear. Either way, I will be making good on my word to the Knight." He knelt down for a moment, gently removing the monocle from beneath Cerik's helm. Then, with a couple worried glances at the encroaching wall of darkness and the battle above, he began to climb the surprisingly gentle slope of this part of the mountain to the cave visible beneath the peak. ------ "You have to live for what your future holds." "My... future?" Cerik looked around. Images of a time past came into view around him. Marcygate. The order of knights, his king, his first love Luanda. Each broke away into pieces that moved away from him and faded as he moved to touch them, as if they were mirrors he had just shattered with a great blow. The guardian of the underwater ruins where he found the monocle. Salida. The deserter. The cultist leader- the cultist leader did not fade. Instead, he smiled. Then, he opened his mouth and Maria's voice came forth. "Plus that cultist leader would be disappointed! Don't let some cheap shot be your end!" A cheap shot... Cerik looked down at himself for the first time in what felt like forever. Through him and his armor, his very own sword Farcutter, crackling with electricity. The memories of what had just happened returned to him. Reaching for Salida's hand- sudden pain and betrayal. Mad ranting the last thing he heard before consciousness had faded from him. ... The surroundings before him shifted. Two paths unfolded before him. One toward that faint, distant light. And the other, deeper into a darkness that seemed all too blissful. At the fork of these paths stood his best friend of old. The one whose death had set him on the path of an adventurer. He spoke with a neutral expression. "Which will you choose, Cerik? Will you get back up and continue the fight? Continue to stand against evil in all it's forms? Or will you allow this to be your retirement? Let the embrace of death overtake you, reunite with me and all the rest that you have lost in your years?" A decision of great weight and import. Perhaps the greatest decision the knight would ever make. Reduced to a simple fork in the road. At another time, he might have laughed at the strangeness of it. But he didn't, and contemplated the choice before him. Maria's voice echoed all around one last time, loud and vibrant now. "You're a knight, aren't you?" ... A knight. ... You are a knight, Cerik Windshade. ... You have found your goddess. You are on the verge of an even greater power to combat the powers of evil. Would you truly let it all end here? ... "... No. My friend, there is not really a choice here, in the end. I am a knight. And a knight never gives up the fight until peace is clearly won." His old best friend smiled widely, stepping forward and clasping his shoulder. "I suspect that's what you'd choose in the end. Godspeed, Cerik. And one day? When the time comes for you to take the other fork... I'll be waiting for you with our favorite drink readied." Cerik grinned and returned his friend's gesture. "Better double that, my friend, I have no doubts that my thirst will be grand at the time. I can't say I look forward to that day right now, but I can promise I'll have a smile when we once again unite." With that, Cerik strode forth on the path toward the faint light. ------ In reality, Cerik sat up with a groan. Farcutter laid beside him, bloodied but no longer thrust through his lower torso. Amura floated nearby, Maria stood a short distance away. And above him, two beings of great power clashed. White fire and black fire. White fire... the First Sage of Light. He wasn't sure where he had picked up the title, or why he felt a revulsion upon hearing it. But he knew what he had to do. He clutched Farcutter in his right hand, and turned toward Maria slowly and with a wince. "A knight such as me... one would expect I would choose to support the Light without hesitation, no? But Light is not inherently good in every single instance. I have a feeling, Maria, that this light above us is not good, not just." In his left hand, he drew forth and tightly clutched the Storm's Eye. The air around them perceptibly began to shift as Cerik exerted his will over the weather around them. "If this Shadow Princess gives me an opening, we can end this in one blow. Coordinate your magic with me, and a swift victory will be assured. All I need is a couple minutes." He looked across the ledge, where two figures in white armor that almost seemed to glow approached with weapons in hand. White wings spread wide behind them. "... and it seems I'll need you to buy me those minutes. Our troubles should be over after this, I hope."

-Epilogue (Shadows Amidst Impermeable Darkness)- Gormaric and Eri: It took the ebon knight little time to find Shadowfang through the connection he held with the dark blade, once he was free of his prison of mind and body. How the sword had maintained a will of its own in even the illusory realm, he was far too tired and drained to question. His armor was refastened to the best of his ability, and he once again adorned that thick blue cape that he had been gifted in the wake of Remissio's demise. Perhaps the memories of that renegade paladin were a liability in this land, and had already proven to be capable of forming a tangible danger. But... they meant something. The key to answers, the meaning of the actions of that strange creature among the Spires. Or at the very least, a clue. This, and more, the so-called Bane of Yh'mi pondered as he made his way out of the caves. His stolid wyvern Eri was not far behind him, bearing some equipment that had been too much for the adventurers to carry but that they couldn't bear to leave behind. Not an excessive amount, of course, and the elephant Surus could bear a good load more by sheer virtue of size and strength, even weakened- but enough to contribute, certainly. There was nothing that had been taken from her, anyways, aside from the strength and stamina that had been drained from all present there. She would endeavor to recover that strength as soon as possible. The blackest depths, the hottest depths, amidst the very center of an all-cleansing light... wherever her master desired to go, Eri would bear Gormaric there, and protect him with all her strength with tooth, claw, and wing. It was for this purpose that the Shadow King had given her form. A singular driving purpose. The bad end of freedom was too many choices to ever find one fulfilling path. Affairs were soon back in order at the Aligorian contingent's camp. However, assuredly an oddity in the eyes of the Order of the White Hand, the forces of the Kingdom all withdrew to their camp not too long after the Furthest Point had been claimed. This seemed to have been in response to a missive that had arrived from a messenger bearing the colors of the Shadow King. Something was coming, Neque had shared. Something big and potentially world shattering. All personnel returned to the Aligorian camp, and kept close to the golem Anywhere, through which Neque would act to preserve his people if all was it bad as it seemed it might be. The ebon knight and his wyvern hoped it was a false alarm, and operations in the darkness of Yh'mi could resume as they were. But if everything were truly about to be turned upside down, then it was best to follow the command of their king and hope they would be seen safely through it all. And here he had thought that the greatest threat was within Yh'mi itself. What a cruel irony it would be if an external force overtook both them and the tainted land, then, wouldn't it? ---------------------------- Frederick: The commander of the Subversors was alone. Amelia and Gilliam had been found lifeless in the caves, back to back. Most likely awoken by their "deaths" and subsequently overwhelmed by their enemies in reality, before the others had awakened to finish the battle. Then, Bors and Oswin... two hauntingly empty eggs stood where they likely would have been, and no trace of them within the caverns. So, that power in the illusory realm had to have been real, since their sacrifice had been. Frederick did not feel it coursing through him now- but somewhere deep inside, a trace of it could be briefly felt. It existed. He would reclaim it one day, in the memory of his men. And then he would bring it fully to bear, ripping and tearing the twisted land that had claimed their lives. Uru-inlaid armor and shield. Their familiar weight returned. The equipment of his subordinates... painstakingly stacked into a pile, their weapons set atop it as a memorial. Frederick was the last to leave the caverns, for he had spent a while sitting before the pile, staring in silence. Meditating, saying his goodbyes, some other third thing? Whatever the case, he made his peace before he made his departure from those damned caverns. Alone in his tent with a bottle of whiskey. At the least, Frederick's tent flap was open to the center of the camp, where Gormaric and Anywhere stood while the Aligorian forces either stood and watched in anticipation or rushed around to complete pressing tasks. Maybe his power would re-awaken in whatever was to come. He smiled at the thought. ---------------------------------- Ilene: She had expended great power in helping to deal the finishing blow to the queen. It was all she could do to don her light armor and mask-helm, and retrieve her beloved curved blade. Then, she hitched a ride with the archer crew atop Surus, as her feet could hardly carry her. She slept like a log, to chuckles of amusement from the archer crew. Ilene was not present at the Aligorian camp. Indeed, merely a day after the Aligorians had returned from the Furthest Point, a note was found in her tent: She had set off on her own, bound for the Shadow King's side. Gormaric had been visibly confused upon hearing of this, but then ultimately shrugged and sent a well-wish her way on the wind. Hopefully the Shadow Guard commander could outspeed Neque's prophesied calamity to reach his side. She had earned that much through her actions. ------------------------------------------ Surus and Crew: The elephant could no longer fly. This revelation had been accompanied by a large thump that had echoed throughout the cavern, and some sad trumpeting. Captain Jeorge and his crew had managed to calm Surus down and get him on his way nonetheless. The elephant helped to carry companions and equipment alike as the expeditionary force to the Point made their exodus from the caverns. The elephant had returned to the camp with only the archer Norne atop his back. When questioned, she stated that the rest of the crew had followed the enigmatic 3-13, after he had tried to split off into his own to make an unexplained trek deeper into Yh'mi. They had sent her back with Surus to make sure their choice was known, as well as keeping her and the elephant from succumbing to any dark fate they could possibly meet. But... something told Norne that bunch would be alright, no matter what was to come. Surus lightly trumpeted in agreement, as if reading her thoughts.

The day had been so much fun that Dauner hadn't realize that it was almost dark. As the people began gathering with their telescopes to watch the stars, Dauner began wondering if bringing if he should have bought one from the village. It would be nice not to be the one with a 'unique' telescope. Well it didn't really matter at this point, what he thought. That is unless he could turn back the wheels of time. As everyone began looking to the starlit dark sky, Dauner pulled an object out of his dimensional pocket. It was a short bamboo stalk with a rather wide diameter. Inside it, was what seemed to be liquid, except, this liquid wasn't pouring out of either opening of the stalk. Dauner looked to the sky through one end of the stalk, smiling to himself. "Here you go!" he said handing it over to Kiki. "My very own hand made telescope! Have a look!" Dauner encouraged, grinning widely.

Kiki looked at him with bewilderment. The thought of robbing the murderous old lady... not once crossed her mind. "You know, you have some really out there ideas. I mean, you also seem to have had a pretty "out there" life so I get it, but man." She shook her head. Dauner agreed to her dance invitation and the magic swordsman immediately made a request to the violinist. A fast tune began to be played and Dauner offered her a dance. She took one hand of his and placed the other on his shoulder, letting him place his on her hip. She gave him a jolly grin. "Let me show you how us peasant folk dance, noble sir." *** OOC: Feel free to skip ahead to the late evening, when we can get to stargazing.  

Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. ‘Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.   They had made too many assumptions.    But in the end, she had made her own assumptions. And no one's underestimations of her abilities and potential lack of scruples had been worse than her own. She had thought herself untouchable, unmovable, and beyond corruption. It was one thing to have others place you on a pedestal -- to scoff at them and their lofty ideals, to resent their expectations, and to blame your eventual failures on their presumptions. However, what became of those excuses when the pedestal was self constructed and the expectations were self proclaimed…   Gabriela had no answer save for the taste of destruction that filled her mouth.   It was the taste of ash -- of burnt ground.    Was it for her children or for herself? Was it for motherhood or for vengeance? The answers did not come as easily as she would have hoped -- as she would have liked. And was it because she was a mortal woman? Could it be that the answer would have come easier if she was still of vampyric blood? There was something to be said for the closure of a straight answer, but was it to be denied to her now because she had given up her birthright. What a cruel twist of fate that would be! Regardless, she would have accepted whatever the answer was. In her heart, she knew it. Whether it made her a villain or a tragic hero -- she would have accepted it without qualms. But there was no solution to this conundrum. Not in her current state, and perhaps, not in any state. There was a lifetime of pain. Countless transgressions full of agony, of humiliation, of sheer sorrow, and all of them hurled directly against a single person -- herself. She had suffered time and time again the offenses of cruel men and women, gods, and demons, and monsters alike. And the reason -- it was still unclear to her.   The strength of her convictions? The goodness by which she was certain she lived her life…It had never made sense, and it still didn’t make sense. Why had she been targeted above all else? Why was she made the object of hate and obsession -- of devotion and of torture?   Her jaw clenched in growing anger and remembered hurt, and as Tenebre’s shadow began to fade in his hour of death, a blacker form fell across her from behind. She was so self involved in her remembering that she nearly missed it, but the presence was far too dense to ignore. She was not startled, though it did cause her to straighten uncomfortably in response.    Malice needed no introduction. Oddly enough, even without the heightened senses of her vampyric blood, Malice was a presence that was instantly recognized even without her eyesight to guide her. Perhaps it was a mortal's reaction to the very essence of the divine -- who could ever know these things, but whatever it was that gave him such a pungent aura was the very same thing that was slowly but surely feeding into her own spirit as the world began to fall apart and shake under their feet.    Defiler of Innocence.   She grimaced at the memory of their first meeting -- not upon Valucre, but further back in time. She was a child, a true innocent back then. Kalicity had taken her to a tournament, the Dark Goddess was intent on having her adopted child witness her first bloodletting competition. Gabriela had been brave and outspoken about her views concerning the event, but she had been no more than a child -- a foolish child. She had spoken out of turn to Malice, a creature to whom Kalicity had shown reverence back in those days. Had that single interaction set the wheels in motion for all of this? She had to wonder now, she had to wonder as the sound of the earth falling away into the ocean was slowly accompanied by the choirs of wailing, of crying, of screaming.    It was the song of the dying.    It was the voices of men, of women, of children -- of tiny infants. And from across thousands of miles, she heard their voices in unison rising up through the heavy, hot, humid air of the tropical island in glorious music, a mighty chant, a prayer to the gods for retribution of this great wrong. Then her anger and hurt, it wavered in response to this greater hurt and this greater anger and for a moment she felt the claws of cowardice grip at her as untold deaths began to pour forth from every direction as the surrounding coasts of the island were swallowed by the sea. Cities crumbled, buildings crashed down and crushed those unfortunate enough to still be inside. And those who had managed to evacuate found no sort of solace beyond their brick and mortar walls. The earth cracked open and water spilled forth flooding everything. Men and animals alike were swept away and drowned. Forests were cleared, entire citizens were decimated, mountain ranges crumbled as if they were made of the most brittle sandstone... The weight of the power that had gathered in the palms of her open hands became too much, and it pulled her fingertips down between her folded knees. There, in the nest of her thighs, she nursed the ball of invisible energy that spun in a sphere within a trembling cage created by the length of her stretched and strained fingers. It wouldn’t be long now. The low growl of the earth was a savage thing that they could all hear -- the dying God, the God who stood as witness to it all, and the fledgling God who knelt through it all and had set it all upon this dreadful course.    Bones sinking like stones…   Tenebre was little more than a shade at noon, a pale thing with no voice. He was hardly a figure. But he lingered, watching perhaps. But he had no features. And yet his presence presented a powerful thing, a messenger perhaps of comfort as it remained close to the sarcophagus where Gabriela’s children remained resting. The life that he intended to take, he did as he promised, and passed on to the two children. However, in the mess of it all, with screaming souls swirling about them all running away from their violent deaths right into the awaiting maws of the Great Devourer, who knew what would become of the two tiny spirits of her beloved children. Gabriela herself was in an odd state. She lingered on her knees trying to contain the surge of power that she had collected in her hands, which, had she remained a mere mortal, would have destroyed her by now. But as Tenebre faded, and as she grew in power, she maintained. The change was not visible. She did not know how to make it so. In fact, she did not know what the change meant, if it meant anything at all… The birth of Darkness was no little thing, but as a fledgling there was so much to learn, and already so much she didn’t know.    Gabriela clung to what she did know. She knew that she was human, she understood the body she had been occupying for the past year. That was the reality she held onto. But she needed to tap into the power that had just been gifted to her, at least long enough to survive, and at least long enough to snach back something out of the clenching jaws of death that tore and ripped at everything she loved -- everything she had needlessly sacrificed.    Turning from her position on the floor, twisting on her knees so that she could keep her hands together -- pushing them closer together in fact, forcing the ball of flickering energy, of heat and shadows, into a tighter and more compact sphere -- she shifted far enough to regard the purple-haired fiend.    Deep inside me I’m fading to black -- I am fading.  Took an oath by the blood of my hand won't break it.   There, upon the floor of the mausoleum, where everyone that she loved lay dead -- including the only true father figure she ever had, there knelt the new Tenebre. There was a woman, or rather a creature in a woman’s guise. Everything was the same, except her presence. Except her eyes. Not a hint of the glorious gold remained. Black as night, they looked up at him heavy and full of gravity. Nothing escaped them.    She saw his mouth open. His lips curl. He smiled to prove a point, but she saw the vastness of eternity in the gesture. He showed satisfaction and pride -- all the love of a father witnessing his tiny fledgling take flight.   “All hail the new Mother of Darkness, in this life and the next.”   “You once told me that ‘no man may have more than they can take,’ and that, ‘no soul stretch farther than their reach.’”   Slowly, as if it caused her great pain, Gabriela rose to her feet and wavered upon her legs as if they were new -- as if she did not know them.   “You have had enough. You have feasted enough. You have gorged yourself at my expense, but it is enough and you will have no more…”    Once she was up, and from this humble height of hers, she opened her hands and dropped the orb which she had been nursing and cradling. It fell and cracked at her feet. There wasn’t much she could do. There wasn’t much left to fight. Malice had a control over La’Ruta, especially the darker side of it that Gabriela had never come to understand, much less command. He was always meant to be the other half of the magic. She could have never been his equal, and so the proportions would have never found balance had they attempted to fulfil the prophecy together and the island would have forever been in dissension. But she could do this much, and with Tenebre’s gift -- with his dying wish finally completed, she could at the very least pushback this much. The destruction of Orisia was stopped, at least to this degree, at least around the borders of the capital city -- beyond that it was all lost.    It was exhausting, her first task as a fledgling god, and it left her utterly spent. Every ounce of her strength and power went into stopping the very thing she set into motion. Every soul she fed the beast, every soul that was meant to feed her own transformation. Left with nothing, she dropped right back down like a wilted flower and sat on the floor once more, breathing hard and pushing through the sudden tiredness that felt so much more potent than anything she could ever recall as either a mortal or a vampyre.    But the earth, it continued to groan and to growl. She may have stopped things for now, but could the gears that she had set into motion truly be stopped now? She pinched her brows in confusion and set her hands on the smooth marble floors, pushing aside the glass-like substance of the shattered orb she had just dropped. She shifted past the material, she felt for the connection she shared with the land, but felt it weak and distant. She was losing her bond with La’Ruta -- with the land. Meanwhile, what was left of the island still seemed intent on self-destructing.    “Please,” she whispered down to the ground, “...please, stop it. Stop it now.”