Dubhaine Family/Moira/Roleplays/2020/October

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Contents

Dubhaine Family
Fame 40
Wealth 19485
Home Region Ashforth
Home World East Continent

1st October

Summer Day

Training Match

Emilia Delamoire, Dame of Pel Mark meets her challenger Lady Saoirse MacArbin, Grandmistress of Obia'Syela, Royal of Obia'Syela, Duchess of Amen Obeah for the agreed training match.
Saoirse has decided to use the 'overrun' strategy while Emilia has chosen the 'aggressive' strategy, giving Saoirse the advantage.
After a series of blows, Saoirse wins the training match.

Emilia Delamoire

Emilia Delamoire

"I see you are capable at beating up priests, will your next victory be against a little girl?" Emilia taunted Vahanian.

She twirled her short sword in hand and prepared to give the order to have the square filled with the black shafted arrows of Shadow's Blight. They could run at her all they wanted, but the first wave would assuredly go down with her.

"Or maybe I should find you a dog to kick. Wouldn't want you to lose any pride after such a stunning victory." Lady Emilia continued

"Shadow's Blight! Be sure to record the battle of the great warrior Vahanian, he who beat up a priest in the streets of Keffa!" She declared, to which her troops chuckled nervously.

"Now, on a more serious note.. is your god called Obey because that's all you're capable of doing?" She asked with an inquisitive smirk.

FLASHBACK

"You will sit straight, your shoulders back, eyes forward." Lady Leonora would say to her. To which she would begrudgingly snap her shoulders back and put her chin up high. Her gaze blank upon the wall opposite, as if it all had no meaning.. it never.. had meaning.

"Yes My Lord, Of Course My Lord, You're Right My Lord."

"Don't use that tone, if he senses that tone."

Her father was Lord Coryn Delamoire, the finest of them all, both successful and charming. If they only new.

She still heard the screams. Her mother made every excuse, said the proper words, but her father still punished her.

When Emilia had gotten older, she knew what words would hurt him the most. She used those words like knives to punish him like he had punished her mother. But he was always faster, and when he caught little Emilia, he would strike her like a hammer to an anvil.

She remembered gasping for breath, devoid of air for so long she saw lights, only to be thrust to the surface to wretch and coil in on yourself. Her ribs had been broken more times than she could count and she was relatively sure that there was internal damage beyond her own comprehension.

Her father seemed to have an obsessive nature toward punishing others, even outside of Emilia and her mother Leonora. The villages began to spread rumors of the darker side of their shining Lord Coryn. A cruel man who abused his mistresses and oppressed the peasantry.

When Emilia was 11, one of these tangents from her Lord father set into events out of his control. Lord Coryn Delamoire was murdered by one of his own bastard children

"Yes My Lord, Of Course My Lord, You're Right My Lord"

Emilia thought of those words as she stared down at the corpse of her father being buried. She thought of all the pain she and her mother had suffered at his hands.

It was the best day of her life.

Since that day Lady Emilia had raised her chin, put her shoulders back, but never again would she defer to another, especially if they were men.

But her words were always her sharpest weapon, and she used this weapon often.

Saoirse MacArbin

At the insults that were flung forth, Saoirse paused for a moment, the sheer shock of them causing the blood to pump in her ears and red to cover her eyes, before she lowered her lance, and in a vicious whisper:

"Charge."

The Lancers Radiant made straight for Polli, ready to mow down any in their way, but Saoirse rode directly at Emilia

Emilia Delamoire

As the Grand Mistress gave the order the horses launched forward. The Square erupted into motion, and Lady Emilia saw the wave of an Obian nightmare rushing toward her.

She raised her sword into the air and screamed,

"FIIIREE!!"

Behind Emilia, twenty archers that surrounded Polli and Godfrey open fired directly into the wave, trained hands firing arrow after arrow.

Pull. Release. Pull. Release.

Added to the point blank shots came a rain of arrows from various sniper points that had been ordered as lookouts what seemed like a lifetime ago.

She set her feet firmly, her diminutive frame a blade of grass in a hurricane.

"FOR BLOOD ETERNAL!"

The Square, exploded into chaos, and the blood flowed.

Jacinda

The Cafe

Jacinda leaned into Nerta, taking some of her weight to steady her friend. As the other woman's cloak shifted, Jacinda thought she saw...But there would be time to think about that later.

"Can't be too much worse, there isn't blood in the streets yet, just those poor fools outside the walls-"

They rounded a corner and saw the nobles and their retainers begin the charge, and then the screaming started. Jacinda snorted.

"Spoke too soon. Different direction, Nerta?"

Maurice

Cafe
Before Second Stones Set

Exhaling sharply the woman’s eyes are hard, “Maurice, you must know. Can this not be averted? Can we stop the slaughter, stop the rituals? These people do not deserve it.”

Maurice began, "No, It is coming, it is inevit," and stopped mid-word, pausing as if shaken by something which he had just fully realized for the first time. He edged away from the others, ever so imperceptibly.

Beginning again slowly, "Well, there is one way to stop It," as he spoke he moved away, and towards the door, not a great distance, but just enough to be noticeable, "kill all the Others."

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

"That is a far bigger question than you would know and much of the answer is pure conjecture... and to be honest I am.not sure what relevance it has here and now."

"The short answer would be that Obeah is the Mother of Magic, She would not need to call upon Ora, since Ora is an aspect of Obeah." She paused. "Whether the magic of the veil resembles the Dagda workings is yet another subject for a day when we have the luxury of time. However..." she broke off as a spasm once more went through her body. "They are still doing their blood work..." As if hearing her words, the column flashed blood red before again resuming its rotation.

"You see, this is what I mean... the external magics are having direct impact on the column as it seeks completion... Can you see anything, that might let us understand what it needs?"

Ryosuke Guile

Just as the sun breaches the horizon to the west, a column of dust covered cavalry approach the Daldward Gate at the Holy City of Keffa. Riding at their head, sitting ramrod straight and with his hood covering his easily identifiable hair, a man wearing a silver filigreed mask, a frighteningly-bright breastplate, and a buckler that shines like liquid starlight motions to the soldier to his right to ride up alongside him.

"Jorg," a clear and lilting voice rings out from the depths of the mask, "Find our delegation, and report back to me straightaway. Look for Duchess Alice. She should have the other Dalefolk rallied to her side. Be quick about it, Captain." With a quick nod, the Captain of the Hunters rides ahead to the gates of the city.

When he reaches the the gate, he flashes a jade token at the overly-alert guardsmen and continues slowly walking his horse ahead, scanning for the Entwined Banner, or a familiar face.

Viviane

Dull Worm Coffeehouse

As the party gathered to depart, Viviane offering much praise for the brew to the beantender, the coffeehouse's proprietor burst out upset at Valian's destruction of his business's door, demanding recompense and threatening to report the vandalism to Valian's liege.

Dolores

After thanking Jecht for the scrolls, Dolores proceeded to sing. As she sang, Mulki Laraak approached, asking the innocent question, but before Delores could nod her head no, they were interrupted by the two Templars, who in turn were interrupted by Duncan Blackstone. Yet when Emperor Jecht's troops arrived, he skedaddled before much conversation could be had.

Through it all, the Emperor stood, resolute, guarding over Dolores's dirge.

Luto

Somewhere on Keffa's Streets

"It is what is coming. The Others are who will stop us, and that is why Nothoi might wish them killed." Luto whispered in reply to Yao Ling.

Examining the scavenging bear, at a distance, before continuing, "Good for Nothoi if Nothoi gets It. Not good for Nothoi if they get It."

Polli

The Square (Polli)

Polli picked up her trumpet and began playing vordulist hymns, as Saoirse closed in.

Valian Stone Daubeny

Valian picked up Elizabeth and tossed a coin pouch to the coffeehouse owner.

He waved for Vivian to follow as he held his mace defensively.

Outside the coffeehouse was Valian’s new unit, glistening white armour, bronze shields and long glaives at the ready, they had the symbol of the inquisition embedded into their shields.

Valian stepped into the cool night air, sounds of battle ran out from the temple square and Valian saw Archers high up on the rooftops firing down I to the square.

Valian could already smell the blood running, Valian turned to his men and formed a fist and covered it with his hand.

The 52 men of the Riot Guard formed up around Valian holding shields up high as well as covering all sides with their shields locking together to form a wall of bronze, a space was left open for Viviane, Valian and Elizabeth to stand in the centre.

Valian turned to Viviane and smiled “Let’s get going Lady Emberhallow, the shields will keep us safe whilst we head to the temple.”

Yao Ling Pryde

Somewhere on Keffa's Streets

Yao Ling gave Luto a raised eyebrow.

"That doesn't tell me what It is, or who the Others are." Then she looked around the street and shook her head. "And I don't believe in a zero sum world. Why would It being here hurt US?"

Alice Schwarzherzig

Rulers, Diplomats, Ambassadors, oh my! (During the Charge)

Alice heard commotion and whirled about, and watched the cavalry charge begin.

"Pardon me, Majesty, but I must be going." Alice said to Jecht. She whistled, and alongside the Morgul Guard, mounted their destriers. They rode, skirting the square and veering off down a side road. They fanned out and located Bernard. Circling the bagpiper, Alice dismounted.

"It is time to play, piper." Alice spoke approaching the man. She tossed him an iron coin, the seal of Carn Dum upon it.

"Now the piper is paid. More to follow." She stood next to the man, and began to send out messengers to the nobles of Irondale, commanding them to join her. Before long a messenger of the Heirophant arrived.

"Bring him and his retinue here." She told the messenger.

She turned to Bernard again.

"Pick a tune, piper, I'll follow,"

Moira

Temple

Why wasn't this Priestess more troubled by her own blindness? What had she imagined would happen, meddling with forces beyond her comprehension? Scraps of knowledge ripped from the garbled writings of hedge witches and madmen were not a well-formed plan.

Here Kristina stood - hovered! - flesh coruscating with stolen power, yet in the High Firmament she remained a burnt-out husk, the barest ember of what once lived within hungering to be rekindled.

Ora?

Obeah?

A facie by any other name was still a facie. A creature feeding on hopes and dreams, giving a little power in return when it felt like it. The Mother of Magic might be more powerful than most but the idea that she was some kind of goddess able to withstand the fury of the Daemon Lords? Moira shuddered to think of the power which had shriven Kristina so, the smell of it all too familiar. If Ora couldn't stand against Haktoo, why should Obeah stand any chance against Haktoo's kin?

"You're right Priestess, time presses and we must work with what knowledge we have if disaster's to be averted. Let me show you what you need to see," the daemon-hunter took a deep breath to still her pulse to a slow, steady beat, and with little concern for social niceties grasped Kristina's hands to her own chest. A blinding ripple of light radiated horizontally from the two women as the power imbued to the Priestess translated them both into the Flow, the sense of drowning in deep waters, of being ravaged by the great rushing of a winter storm. It was foolhardy to force a Glaze like this but Moira had little choice given the imminence of the threat.

Kristina would now clearly see the portal beams as Moira did, two slowly rotating pillars of light, one clockwise and the other counter-clockwise. More importantly she'd be able to see the threat within. The shapes moving within the light, shadows trapped in the fold.

"WE CALL THIS THE TURBULENCE!" Moira's voice barely carried over the maelstrom, "WE CANNOT STAY HERE LONG OR WE'LL BE LOST FOREVER!"

Kristina's face was full of amazement as she looked around her, senses struggling to interpret her immaterial surroundings. A chaotic riot of colours and sounds, of movement and raw emotion, extended through myriad inconceivable angles. There seemed no fixed scheme to the dimensions, the number varying as wildly as their measure, but here and there a flickering flame cast the shadow of a living creature.

"THE PORTALS! FOCUS ON THE PORTALS AND IGNORE EVERYTHING ELSE! THE FLOW WILL CARRY US THERE SO LONG AS WE REMAIN FOCUSED! THEN YOU WILL SEE!"

Summer Evening

Ryosuke Guile

Riding back through the city after searching for any of the Irondale Delegates, Captain Jorg comes across his Lord still surrounded by the rest of the Hunters near the Daldward Gate.

"Ambassador Alice is in the Temple Square, First Minister. She requests your presence straightaway." the middle-aged man reports quietly.

With a quick whistle, the masked man mounts back up and his soldiers fall into an escort around him. Heading towards the Temple Square, several try to impose themselves upon him and bar his path, but the jade token at his hip repels them all quickly.

Upon reaching the heavily defended Temple, the man dismounts and passes the reins over to Jorg. "Find a nearby stable, get the horses some decent millet, and then find me within. And do be quicker about it than you were in finding the Duchess." the soft lilting voice floats out from behind the mask with a hint of playfulness to it.

Presenting himself in front of the Templar Guards, the masked man pulls back his hood to reveal his snow-white hair and then presents his token of state for inspection.

"I am here to see your Grandmistress. I am Ryosuke of House Guile, I believe you should be expecting me?" the young ruler stands entirely at ease, waiting for the standard protocols to be observed before being ushered deeper within.

Not knowing what to expect, Ryosuke spots Alice soon after arrival and heads over to her side.

"Your Grace, it is always a delight to see you. Perhaps you can bring me up to speed before I meet with the Grandmistress? I've heard little, and naught from our own Bernard. It is troublesome, to say the least."

Alice Schwarzherzig

Alice gestures to Bernard.

"Well he is here, Excellency. As for the Grand Mistress... Well..." Alice gestures towards that was the aftermath of the Grandmistress's cavalry charge.

"She's giving the Cultists of the Boy Xlair their fill of blood. Their own mostly, from the looks of it. I've spoken with Emperor Jecht, he's off with the contingent from the Vale at the moment." Alice gestured across the square.

"I recommend we set up here for now and assist the piper."

Yao Ling Pryde

The Square

Yao Ling blinked as something changed. Not in the square. It was still smelled of blood and fear and anger and hatred as the Obian and Vordul soldiers faced each other with death in their eyes.

It was the Obian temple.

The tower of light pulsed and she recognized the life magic flowing through it.

Someone had just taken a terrible risk in that temple.

Blood magic was powerful. Everyone knew it. It's why so many used it. But it was easy. It relied on death to work, even if only small amounts of it. It was easy to collect, easy to use, and far, far too easy to use up. It needed steady infusions of new blood to maintain its power. That was the secret of its power and its greatest weakness.

Life magic was something else entirely. Fed by the very lives of man and other creatures, it was far more powerful than mere blood, but it was also far harder to control. Life was complicated. Life was slippery. Life would always find a way to slip the controls you placed on it. And losing control of could cost the life that fueled it.

Yao Ling had used it a long time ago, when Reeds burned under Daimon control and the portal needed guidance. She had poured the souls embedded in a ring of power into that maelstrom, and when that had not been enough, she had poured her own into it as well. She knew how close she'd come to never coming back from that one. She still remembered the sensation of her hand vaporizing in front of her. She'd expected the rest of her to follow. She had, in a way. Then life had poured back into her and given her back her hand and her youth.

Life magic was powerful. It was also unpredictable.

She prayed for the soul caught in that maelstrom. No. Souls. Plural. Two of them.

She prayed to the gods. To any god out there. To anything with the power to do something, to help those souls before they vaporized in that flow of power and energy.

Osgar Dacara

When Osgar finished his twentieth beer, he yelled at the bar maid to get another round.

The rather bossy bar maid didn't seem to be amused by yet another round for the noisy Margrave and his entourage. She flat out refused to serve any more ale.

His men started to all make their way towards the front of the bar, kicking some tables and chairs along the way.

It didn't take too long before the entire bar was one big browl.

Osgar was filled with anger. He was out for blood...

Ryosuke Guile

Rulers, Diplomats, Ambassadors, oh my!

Taking in the first sight he's really had of the man known as Bernard, Ryosuke simply nods in acceptance of the facts and moves on. With a subtle hand gesture, the men of the Hunters filter into the surroundings like trickles of sand in order to guard the two Twilight Revolutionaries from any possible approach. "I've brought the items we discussed. I shall leave them at discretion of the Magisterium, as ever." he says softly, after the guards have pulled away. "I am not entirely sure as how to assist, but we shan't lack for trying!"

Looking over to the gardener/piper that is Irondale's own member of House Jarbosh, Ryosuke's head tips a considerable ways to the side as he soaks in the view of this unimposing Porlian man. "Bernard, we finally meet at last. I expect you got my last letter?" the Hierophant asks simply, wondering if the whispers are true... and needing to find out for himself if they were.

Alice Schwarzherzig

The Daleish Corner

"Thaumaturgy was my uncle's specialty. I will lead, and you follow." Alice said, taking off the Mediocre Coat of Tyranny and laying it at Bernard's feet.

"The Himoura Sequence shows us the Pattern for the ritual. One is Bernard. One is the music he plays. Two comes next, for protection. My armor, and yours." Alice moved, and pulled out a pouch.

"Three is next. Benard, you, and me... We all represent Irondale in this." Alice said, pouring powder out of the pouch in a circle around Bernard, and then making two more such circles nearby so the three circled made a triangle.

"Iron dust, represents Irondale as well. Next is Five. You will give five summoning scrolls to Bernard. This will strengthen the ritual and help bring forth... It." Alice said, he explanation faltering when trying to explain... It.

"The final component is 8. We will be using something more potent than portal stones however. It should arrive shortly."

Saoirse MacArbin

The Square - Collaborative RP

As the Shadow's Blight archers let loose the arrows, the Lancers Radiant moved smoothly into a gallop. Some fell in the first salvo, but none without striking down one of the Vordulians in their path. The push created a hole in their formation; not a large one, true, but large enough for a few Lancers... And the Grandmistress.

While the few Lancers that broke through the defensive ring continued on toward their goal of interrupting the ritual, Saoirse herself road straight toward the infuriating Vordulian Lady Emilia, who dared defend such open blasphemy before the temple itself.

More arrows streaked through, horses fell around the Grandmistress and the cries of battle resounded, but Saoirse's focus, and lance, stayed true even as a black shafted arrow deflected across her violet armor. Only a few more moments, she saw Lady Emilia walking defiantly toward her and she steadied her lance.

Opposite, Lady Emilia watched the massacre, the screams of horses and men filling the area as the arrows rained death upon the cavalry units. But, they were simply outnumbered, for every horse rider that fell, two soldiers took their place, and to her side the Vordulian noble woman watched her soldiers die by the dozens.

Emilia walked forward, refusing to flinch as horses blurred past her and her people died. She locked eyes with Saoirse and cleared her mind of any other objective, her palms sweat as she tightened their grip on sword and dagger.

Unexpectedly, a Vordulian spearman stepped forward, jamming the butt of his spear between the cobblestones of the Square, and leveled the spear forward. The Grandmistress' horse did not have time to redirect, causing the horse to wretch unnaturally and collapse hoof over head, crushing the brave spearman and killing the horse.

Saoirse's vision was a blur as she was pitched forward onto the ground in the Square and only through pure instinct was she able to toss the lance aside and tuck her body to land in a roll. Rising back up to her feet as a Vordulian soldier fell beside her, dead, the discarded lance protruding from his chest and propping him up like a scarecrow in the bloody battle.

Lady Emilia saw Saoirse fall to the ground and rushed forward in a sprint. To Saoirse's credit, she was quick to recover, and Lady Emilia found an able and capable warrior waiting for her as she engaged with a flurry of jabs from the short sword.

Saoirse's saber flashed out, swatting aside the first jab and giving her enough time to raise her buckler to block the next. She responded with two quick arcs of the curved sabre to push the offensive on Emilia, who deftly ducked the first swing, and blocked the second with crossed dagger and sword.

The Square became a brutal and primal fight. The magic in the air, the tension of the past, the present, and that which had yet come to pass, erupting into a storm of blades and fury. But to the two noble women, they were the only two people in the world, circling each other with matched rage, seeking the other's weakness.

In the end, Saoirse's skill and training from Vahanian exceeded that of the young Lady Emilia. The Grandmistress jabbed forward with a feint, pretending to slip. A simple trick, but one that Saoirse guessed that Emilia wouldn't consider, she was just too young and inexperienced. Saoirse's intuitions were correct and Lady Emilia fell for it, lunging in and leading with her short sword, to which the grand mistress quickly recovered and stepped aside.

Lady Emilia was left over extended and Saoirse brought her buckler across with a cruel back hand, the edge of the shield slamming into Emilia's hand with a CRACK, knocking the sword onto the ground. As the young woman yelped in pain, Saoirse grabbed her by the platinum blonde hair and yanked her close, holding the saber against her throat.

Emilia breathed heavily as the world slowed down, and she looked across the Square which was full of the dead, and dying. Within the center of the corpses stood Godfrey, though Polli was not visible, and the blood ran free though the Heraldrim forces were busily hacking and stomping across the ritual space.

"Blood for the blood God" Emilia whispered triumphantly.

Saoirse pulled back the saber, prepared to end this Vordulian blasphemer here in the street when a calm came over the square.

Peace. Compassion. Calm. Contentment. Love.

Yao Ling Pryde's scroll glowed in her grasp as the spell was cast.

Saoirse stayed her hand, and the two noble woman stood in the square, Emilia disarmed and restrained by the firm grasp of the Grandmistress.

Jecht Tideweaver

The Square
Shrine of the Shattered Vales

Jecht had been standing over the woman who continued her song for some time.

He stepped forward to the small alter of the shrine, careful not to disturb Dolores. At the foot of the shrine, he offered 3 scrolls of magic, placing them at its foot.

"What better purpose could my gift from Saoirse serve than ensuring our work here succeeds?" he said under his breath.

He began to strip. He removed his freshly repair and fitted Cruel Plate Mail of Grhek, the many glowing arcane runes shifting in various patterns, and placed it next to the scrolls at the foot of the shrine build by Dolores.

Stripping off the padding that was under the breastplate, the Emperor of the Shattered Vales now stood at the foot of the shrine by the singing woman bare chested. The many scars from his duel with the Blood Emperor Xlair during the final battle of Wudenkin contrasted harshly with his slightly tanned complexion. His body was lean and muscular from years of practicing the lance. His long hair was pulled back though several strands began to fall in his face. It looked odd, the man naked from the waist up yet it full ceremonial plate mail from the waist down. The Emperor dropped to his knees.

"Veiled Goddess, hear my words. I offer unto you items of great power and of great importance to me. Use your faithful to bring your will to fruition!"

After a moments pause Jecht drew a dagger from his hip and continued.

"Take now my royal blood. May it strengthen our tie along side this artefact of power and scrolls of magic."

With a swift motion Jecht cut across a bulging vein in his left arm. Blood spurted from the cut and sprayed across the shrine, the Cruel Plate Mail of Grhek, and the magical scrolls.

Jecht turned his gaze towards the pillar of light, began to listen to the whispers, and waited.

Vahanian Blint

Saoirse charged her lancers forward, the arrows rained down death on them. Vahanian's soldiers pressed against the throng of the assembled crowd and did their best to shield the onlookers from stray arrows. Vahanian stood in the middle of the square. Hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, unafraid. His eyes tracked Saoirse as she charged, as her horse fell, as she recovered, and engaged Emilia. Vahanian was reacting, the sweet familiarity of battle settling over him. He moved with the grace and poise of a dancer, and the purpose of a soldier. A Vordul troop, Vahanian wasn't sure and didn't care what unit he belonged to, charged for Saoirse's back, trying to gain an advantage. Vahanian spun and drew his sword in one fluid motion, the soldier was met with the silent whisper of steel cutting through air, and then flesh, and bone as Vahanian decapitated him.

He watched Saoirse fight. Every instinct in him wanted to rush to her aide. The teacher in him wanted to help, but he knew at his core that this was her fight. It wasn't that she wanted to do this. She needed to do this. He kept his distance, and made sure that nobody else interrupted the duel, while watching it with a practiced eye. He studied Saoirse's movements and technique, rattling off the forms she was flowing through in his head. Evidently his training with her paid off, she feinted and struck a critical blow, disarming Emilia and forcing her into submission. A glint of fierce pride swelled in his eye, and a slight nod of approval was the only physical indication of his pride he sent Saoirse's way.

Vahanian's arm surged in pain, new magic was being cast. He ignored the pain, and focused on the sensation in the shards in his arm, the pulsing was different from the Vordul blood magic. This was not magic of death, this was magic of life.

Peace. Compassion. Calm. Contentment. Love.

Yao Ling Pryde's scroll glowed in her grasp as the spell was cast. Vahanian fought against the magic that coursed through him. Wrestling with the emotions that flooded his mind. He did feel calm, but it wasn't a natural calm. That was a problem he'd always had with emotional magic. Once he knew it was magic, he was able to find the falsity in it. He relaxed some, against his will, but he relaxed.

He scanned the square again, ensuring that Saoirse was indeed safe, before scanning the crowd, sheathing his sword, but keeping his hand firmly on the hilt.

His hazel eyes grazed the crowd, and he spotted banners from all the realms on the continent. He passed over a noble standing in both Thalmarkin and his own family regalia. It was familiar but Vahanian couldn't place it at the moment. The colors and sigil weren't what drew his attention. Something was off about this man. There was a darkness around him that felt like it was just beyond sight. There was evil in this man, of that Vahanian had no doubt. He made a mental note of where in the crowd that man was, and continued his scan. Searching for any who were unaffected, or overcame the calming magic and sought to charge the Grandmistress.

Alice Schwarzherzig

The Daleish Corner

Alice read the note handed to her and grinned. One more to take care of. She dismissed the halfbreed who had delivered her the scrolls, and knelt within her circle, the scroll unrolled at her feet. She read aloud the ancient words of power upon the scroll, an ancient and lost tongue, and she concentrated, pouring her focus, and her anger into the casting. A will to do harm filled her, and the scent of ozone was paloable on the air. She finished the incantation with a precise gesture, the dust of a black diamond scattering into the air, and the scroll at her feet crackled, and a malevolent energy was unleashed.

Alice listened, and was greated with a scream over the din, and cries for a healer. She grinned in accomplishment until she noticed healers rushing... To the wrong location.

"By Willy's balls." She cursed under her breath. She unfurled another scroll, and began anew. This time the air seemed pleasantly warm about her, and smelled of juniper. As she completed the ritual, a warm light surrounded her, and faded. Soon the light shone again in the midst of the Vales permiter. The healing ritual undoing the damage of the errant aim of the first spell.

Timsen Quasath

Square

Screams, blood, metal, orders, and more crashed through the air, assaulting all the senses. Timsen, having been warned and observant of all, did not flinch at the sudden cacophony of death. The battle raged, with blood spilling all around the walls and streets. No doubt several groups were pleased with the results and the blood sacrifice, not caring or knowing that all their desires and plans clashed.

Timsen also witnessed several attempts at appeasing or appealing to the Lights, with Emperor's offering items of power and their blood, to commoners offering their very souls. Timsen also caught wind of healing magics being cast, whether to heal the mortals or heal the Lights, or both, he did not know. However, Timsen agreed with the general principle. Healing magicks could aid the efforts of humanity here.

Reaching into his hidden folio, Timsen drew out his Healing scroll with care. Caressing the scroll, Timsen pondered whether it was best to cast it, or throw it into the Lights.

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

She had thought the noise outside of the column had been bad. In the stream of the column the noisw and discord created such a sense of disorientation that she found herself distracted sending her eyes darting to trace the non-existent movements that would correspond to the noises. The sound was akin to the most violent storm, but there was no physical movement, making her realise that only part of her was here.

Voices called her name in a feast of tongues and shadowy forms came close to resolving before her eyes, while also dispersing back into the vibrant landscape of lights.

"THE PORTALS! FOCUS ON THE PORTALS AND IGNORE EVERYTHING ELSE! THE FLOW WILL CARRY US THERE SO LONG AS WE REMAIN FOCUSED! THEN YOU WILL SEE!"

She pulled her gaze back to Moira, her form was like a stone in the rapids, the columns magic attempting to envelope and pull the woman apart, but slid from her rejoining the swirling helices of the column. She dared not imagine what would happen were she here alone.

"Are we?" Her words were swallowed in the white noise. "ARE WE BEYOND THE VEIL?!" Even jer astral form felt the excitement of such a prospect despite its separateness from the actual body. Another wave hit, blurring the edges of Moiras form, and with a jolt of anxiety Kristina followed the womans gaze, seeking out the portals.

Moira

Temple

"WELL WE'RE SURE NOT IN KEFFA ANYMORE," Moira's laughter was felt rather than heard, ripples in that roaring ocean of discordant memories.

This wouldn't work.

It couldn't work.

Old insecurities squirmed at the edge of Moira's conscience, the faces of those she'd judged emerging from the primal chaos, and with them others, unknown to her but all too real to the priestess whose hands she still clasped.

A deep breath.

A second.

A third.

As her thoughts stabilised a path of granite blocks formed beneath the two women, each grounded in a just judgement, reassuringly solid and conveying the resolve of firm conviction. The path extended by a circuitous route towards the twin pillars of light. All about them the Flow thrashed and writhed but on the path there was calm.

"WHAT JUST," the Priestess was suddenly aware she was screaming and lowered her voice to its normal register, "What just happened?"

"Space and time as we know them are absent from the Flow but it is able to manifest something akin to them. This path is constructed from my duty. Each brick a judgement rendered," Moira squeezed Kristina's had to reassure her, "Let's hope my judgements were just!"

Many steps passed seemingly in an instant and the two women now stood in the full glare of the columns within touching distance. Indistinct shapes moved within and the columns seemed to bulge and buckle and groan whenever one of the shapes pressed against the inner columns periphery.

"Something is trying to escape the fold," Moira gestured to the heart of the light, "what is it?"

Siclica Wolfvern

The Square/Aftermath

Siclica stood near thecenter of the corpses surrounded by Godfrey. Looked at every spear, arrow, lance, horse and man laid to their death. This is not what she wanted to be apart of. For people to throw their lives away. Their was no victory to the dead for they can not speak and their deaths gained no honor or glory.

Her eyes redden and tears began to fill. "Why did it have to come to this. No one was harmed for these events to unfold. This fight was pointless and only for ideals of two people. They should've just committed to a duel and left their men out of it." Fallen to her knees the grief she felt was filling. She looked over to where Emilia and Grand Mistress stood. Wiped her hands full of blood and stormed over to them.

Polli had began playing hymns. Calming and easing the grief she felt.

Emilia was arrested it looked like with how the Grand Mistress restrained her. Upon reaching them Siclica marked both of them with the blood of their men. Emilia among her face and the Grand Mistress among her the arm the restrained Emilia. "These are the blood of the people you lead over your squabble. I want to jab you both through with my halberd but, enough dead is already laid across the grounds. I hope your both satisfied with this outcome for their families won't be. A mad young girl thrist for power and a ruler failing to be able to properly had 1 person. Disgusting!!!"

Finally she walks back to the the pile of corpses and see if any amount them still live. Along the way back she orders "those of you that are still alive and are able help the wounded. This fight is over and we must save who we can for they are still not our enemies this day."

Angyll

Screeching to a halt behind Jacinda, Angyll looks up from his own ill fit shirt while still muttering about dances and banquets. He looked up to see what caused the delay, nimble fingers trying to button up a plain white shirt he snagged off a body along the way.

"Get out of the way!" yelled a fleeing Vordulian soldier, trying to abandon the massacre in the square.

The crazed soldier charged through the street toward Jacinda with sword drawn, his eyes only on the street behind her with disregard for the commoners that stood between him and escape.

Angyll's pale gaze snapped up as he saw the soldier lift his hand to hit his new friend, and he vaulted forward.

The soldiers hand came down, the gauntleted hand hitting Angyll across the cheek as he dove to intercept the hit. The blow snapped his head to the side, and redirected his momentum to careen into the dirt on the ground. The wretched frame of the starved and depraved Angyll coiling into a ball, pale fingers curling into jagged digits.

The Vordulian soldier stood stunned momentarily with the interruption to his intended target Jacinda, but without interference he saw his chance to escape the square. The soldier made to run from the commoners and chaos when he was hindered by his foot grabbed and restrained.

Angyll's right hand gripped the man's calf as he clawed himself back up from the ground. The previously joyful gaze collapsed into chaos and hate as he climbed the man with a feral grasp. He grabbed his belt and drug the man down onto the road where he mounted him, clutching his hands together and bringing them down on the man's back, just below the neck.

The first hit knocked the man's chest down to the ground, where he tried to rise back up. Then a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth hit came, Angyll pounding down on the man's back like a gorilla protecting it's territory. The hits came from everywhere at once, hitting the soldier's face, the back of his head, his shoulders, as Angyll screamed landing hit after hit.

Eventually the Vordulian soldier stopped moving and blood pooled beneath the helm as Angyll pulled back swollen and broken hands.

The slender man stood up, looming over the fresh corpse, and grabbed his right index finger with his left hand. He wrenched his hand quickly and a POP was heard as he reseated the knuckle in place of his broken hand. Looking back up to Jacinda and Nerta, he put on a broad smile like a dog that just killed the livestock, ignorantly proud of an act that was instinctual.

He flatted the white shirt with bruised hands, smearing his victim's blood down the clean white cotton as his pale grey eyes look toward Jacinda and Nerta for approval.

"Doesn't this shirt make me look fancy?"

2nd October

Summer Day

Dancer Rea

He'd held steady through the entire battle, watching the blood and offal fly through the air. A single Obeahain solider tried to push past the pair, but Anyte's maidens dealt with him before he even got close to Anyte and Dancer. The pair of nobles sparring caught Dancer's eye, fluid movements and clean forms marking them both as trained nobility. One wore the colors of the Vordul, and the other the colors of the Obeahains. Considering how fancy the Obeahain dressed, she had to be important.... As the older woman brought her sword down for the final blow, Dancer's attention was pulled to a flare of magic washing through the city. Ever since he had returned from the dead, he'd had a sense of these things, and if he focused, he could even feel the shape of the magic around him. Entering Keffa had made his hair stand on end, so he hadn't bothered to even try to use his Sight; the sheer amount of magic in the region would probably knock him out cold. However, that didn't stop the feeling from ripping across his arms before the spell washed over the crowd.

Calming, interesting. Dancer whispered a prayer to himself, placing his hands in a steeple for a moment, and letting the magic part around him in a wave. He couldn't stop it from hitting anyone else, but he certainly wasn't going to be swayed by some hedge magic in a time like this. As he let his hands fall, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Jheda in the crowd. The eyes of the two men met, and Dancer motioned for his former knight to join him by Anyte.

"Jheda, I need you to guard Princess Anyte. Can you handle that? This has to stop, and these fools clearly don't understand what they are doing."

Jheda nodded, and Dancer patted him on the back, before stepping out into the bloody square. Some random woman had just finished yelling at the pair, and Dancer passed near her on his way to the dueling pair. He walked with purpose, sword returned to scabbard, even if his hand still held it tightly. In a matter of moments, he found himself in front of the two woman, still locked in place by drawn steel. Carefully, he placed his free hand on the steel, and pushed down and away from the Vordulain woman's exposed neck, staring into the Obeahain woman's eyes. He spoke softly, so only the pair could hear:

"Grandmistress, I assume? Stop for a moment, and look what you have done. Blood feeds netherworld magic, Saoirse. Unless you want Deamons to fly across your skies, do not feed the Lights any more."

Yao Ling Pryde

The Square

The clash of battle pulled Yao Ling's attention away from the twin souls caught in the magical flow.

Obian cavalry commanded by the grand mistress of them all charged across the square.

Vordul archers held the line in defense of those performing the blood ritual meant to... stop? redirect? takeover? change the column of power.

They hadn't had a temple here. No place of power. Just the square where they could see the Obian temple.

Yao Ling had to accept their courage. They thought the Obians were doing something crazy. Yao Ling wouldn't disagree with that. But they'd come to use blood magic to destabilize it. And that was more dangerous by far.

Yao Ling watched the cavalry charge, and in too many cases die to arrows, but they were just as courageous as their enemies. Their blood spilled on the cobblestones, but they breached the line and brought their leader to the threat she had come to end. The dead and wounded lay around them as they dueled, and the hatred radiating off them and reverberating through the magic all around showed that there would be only one outcome to their duel. They intended to see each other dead.

Then a golden glow of magic pulled Yao Ling's attention back to her wall. The scroll she'd used to enhance her calming spell pulsed in time to the weapons each combatant wielded. Brighter and brighter with each strike. Then it exploded in a wave of magic that rushed out to fill the entire square. She watched the magic flow and eddy, going around some people, flowing through others, and sometimes just stopping to dance around other people. But a significant percentage of that magic flowed directly into the bloody fight and smashed into the waves of anger and hatred radiating from those two combatants.

Yao Ling's eyes were blinded for a moment as the two energies clashed. Then the blood magic collapsed to reveal Grand Mistress Saoirse MacArbin of Obia'Syela holding her enemy in a hard grip. Hard, supremely uncomfortable, and one that would probably leave bruises for months to come. Death lay all around them. Suffering and pain. Blood magic radiated all over the square, flowing between the cobblestones in search of others to enrage, even as her calming spell attempted to stop it.

And there, in the middle of it all, the two combatants who'd brought them to all of this did not kill each other. The blood ritual was over. It had not been sealed with that final death born of anger and hatred and rage.

Yao Ling hoped that would be enough.

Then she turned her attention back to the twin souls caught in the magical flow and fingered another scroll.

Was it time? No. It wasn't time. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But definitely not now.

So Yao Ling returned to her prayers for those two to find their way where they needed to be.

And as she did so, her fingers strummed the magical consecrations built into the Daishi temple around her. They were designed to combat Daimon influence, not something like this, but power was power. It could be turned to any purpose at need.

She let out a long breath. There was a lesson there. A warning.

Yao Ling smiled at the warning. She knew it well. They were old friends. Very, very old friends...

Jheda Orobar

Jheda didn't know if he would ever get used to those milky eyes, lacking any kind of emotion. They sent a shiver down his spine, it almost felt like looking at your own grave. He didn't know how they got to be like that. He heard stories, but his gold was on them being the result of something Dancer picked up in the whorehouses. Still, if you were what they focused on, you knew what was expected of you. Jheda stepped towards the Princess and the Duke.

"Jheda, I need you to guard Princess Anyte. Can you handle that? This has to stop, and these fools clearly don't understand what they are doing." Jheda nodded, Dancer knew he would give his life without hesitation. A short signal to his captain was enough to have the perimeter around them tightened. Standing next to the Princess, he drew his sword. The swan etched on the blade proof of his mastery and skill. "At your service, Princess," he said, looking at the events before them. He recognised Vahanian, Kethan and Saoirse. They knew who he was, and they knew there would be a price if they tried anything. Jheda wondered if they were willing to pay it.

Dancer walked into the chaos, towards the Grandmistress, as if he owned the Square, the Temple and all the people gathered there, as if nothing could touch him. The man probably even thought Obeah would obey if he desired so. Things would get interesting very soon.

Emilia Delamoire

Emilia struggled against the Grandmistress' grasp, but with her right hand broken and her left hand restrained, the 5'5" diminutive woman was held fast. Though she felt much larger and stronger, there was no bluffing or talking your way out of this anymore.

The spell had calmed her some, though the potential loss of the ritual which she had sacrificed everything for, caused the fury to bubble just beneath the surface as it combatted the arcane. She had put all of her eggs in that basket, risking her status among her own people, risking the potential of war based on her actions, risked her life and that of any around her.. for nothing....

She looked at the remnants of magic and hoped that she was wrong, hoping that Polli was able to complete the ritual and that the blood sacrificed in the square today would fuel the magic and that the power she felt during her own Oath would strike the city of Keffa and vindicate her actions.

Seeing a man walking toward them, Emilia's forest green eyes snapped to him with suspicion and hope, as he pulled Saoirse's weapon from her neck.

"Grandmistress, I assume? Stop for a moment, and look what you have done. Blood feeds netherworld magic, Saoirse. Unless you want Deamons to fly across your skies, do not feed the Lights any more."

For Emilia the only path was forward, no matter the consequence. She had made her bed, and she would lie in it. Besides, men were her favorite target, and of course one would arrive to calm the two "hysterical" women. Leave it to men to show up after the battle is done to try and appear the wise overseer.

She didn't know who she talked to, or his past, or even his relevancy to the situation at hand, she only saw another target for her venom.

"Let them come," Emilia spat, responding to Dancer, "let the skies turn red and blood rain from the sky to herald the coming of chaos!"

Emilia didn't much think she had a home to return to, the lack of support from her own realm made that apparent enough. She may have had an ally in Siclica, but based on her reactions here today, even that was in question.

With no other choices she could see in her rage filled mind, she chose that she would either die or ride at the forefront of chaos to bring hell on Beluaterra. Both would be better than sulking back to Wudenkin a failure and a fool.

"All shall perish in the reckoning of the blood storm!" she said with as much conviction as she could muster, struggling against the Grandmistress, though still unable to free herself.

Blep

The Square

Blep watched the two women and the menacing man from the edge of the square. He was quite happy not to be involved in the slightest with such strange people, and ate the loaf of bread he had on him. There was blood everywhere on the square, but wasn't that what nobles always did? Cause bloodshed for no good reason? That's what he thought anyways.

His outfit was a simple red tunic. He wasn't sure why he was actually thinking about what his outfit was, he already knew what he was wearing. Maybe if he didn't think strange thoughts like that, he'd be a noble too. Perhaps.

Godfrey Greybrook

Amongst the chaos and the blood spilled, Godfrey looked to Polli:

"It is your destiny to make a triumph of this day. Come, let us complete this ritual for all our sacrifices here cannot be wasted. Tell me champion, what needs to be done."

Eriol Blackdagger

ENTRANCE TO THE CITY

As his horse entered the city, Eriol could hear the clatterings of combat. However, with the news of chaos that he has reached his ears, he was not surprised. Having common rabble and nobility rub elbows on equal terms is bound to cause issues. Throw mystical activities into the mix and the recipe is one of disaster. However in the distance, the Blood Regent saw the colors of the Empire as part of the activity. His jaw clenching in anger, the Lord of Vordul commanded the Regnal Horse forward at a quickened pace. Eriol made sure that his contingent was not at full speed, to give the impression that he is joining in this melee.

Upon arrival to the scene, Eriol was taken aback by the complete insanity at what he was witnessing. Soldiers from all over the continent watching as the Grandmistress and Emilia, a young woman who had deeply impressed the Blood Regent, going back and forth while the mysterious Polli nearby, as is Him Eminence Godfrey.

As Emilia spat “"let the skies turn red and blood rain from the sky to herald the coming of chaos!" Eriol could not help but smirk.

Eriol dismounted while saying in a loud voice, “I appreciate the introduction, but it is entirely unwarranted.”

Sadona Vilanova

The Daleish Corner

Suddenly, as if noticing a shadow for the first time, but one that had always been there, Sadona was standing by Ryosuke and Alice. Sadons held out a bloodied dagger.

"Your Grace, as commanded, the Blood of Jarbosh." Sadona spoke softly, Polli's blood still wet on the blade. It had been too easy in all the commotion to slip in and out unnoticed. Nobody has even noticed Polli cry out.

Summer Evening

Skirmish in Keffa

The following units attacked Keffa:

"Pointy Sticks" (Osgar Dacara, Royal of Thalmarkin, Margrave of Sandefur, Thalmarkin)

Due to the overwhelming odds, however (17312 CS defending forces), the attackers were quickly surrounded and forced to surrender.

The attacking units were dissolved, and their commanders taken into custody in Obia'Syela.

Alice Schwarzherzig

The Daleish Corner

Alice took the dagger, wet with Polli's blood, and dipped the blade into a vial of water. Alice scraped the blood from the blade until the vial turned red. She shook it and handed the dagger back to Sadona, and looked at Ryosuke.

"And the final portion to start the ritual. The blood of Polli Jarbosh. So the Vordul ritual began in blood, so shall we steal its essence for our own." Alice poured the contents of the vial into seven other vials, and placed the eight containers of blood in a circle around her. Ryosuke and Bernard.

"The blood of Jarbosh should also serve to multiply the power of our own ritual. Bernard! Play!" Alice commanded as she stepped into her circle, gesturing Ryosuke should as well.

Blep

The Square

Blep saw bloody dagger and woman stab poor lady. He didn't like that. He threw a bar of soap at the Noble woman who consorted with stabbers.

"Foul play! Foul play! Bad person stab lady! Says something about Jarbosh! Worshippers, Worshippers!"

Phelan Dragonborn

The Square

Phelan watched, entranced as the beautiful lady worked her magic. He chided himself for thinking she would need his help with anything. He was just a common man after all. When the spell was finished the air rippled with power and he felt both energized and at peace. He had never had this kind of feeling before. He glanced at Betty and she was staring at Yao Ling with a rapt expression on her lovely face. Phelan thought in that moment she was even more beautiful than Yao Ling. He shook himself mentally, he had to remain attentive, aware of the surroundings, if he was to accomplish what he offered; protection for these ladies.

As he scanned the area, he saw nothing that caused concern, but the noise outside in the square was almost deafening, and bodies were dropping all over the square as the two forces fought.

Vahanian Blint

The Square

That same strange noble crossed the open square and approached Saoirse and Emilia. Speaking in a tone just quiet enough for Vahanian not to hear. How this man found his way through the press of soldiers and guards, Vahanian didn't know, nor was it important right now. There was an unknown, and potential threat, standing next to Saoirse and that had to be dealt with.

Vahanian crossed the square towards the trio, wracking his brain for where he'd seen the family crest adorned on this noble's garb. Then it hit him like a thunderbolt. Rea. The family name flooded his brain like a cottage by the sea during a hurricane. This was the family that had led to the death of Vahanian's brother. This was the family responsible for the death of Leatho. Once more, fury leapt to Vahanian's call.

He approached the trio, blade in hand, he grabbed Dancer and pulled him back and away from Saoirse, saying through gritted teeth, "Back away." As soon as he made contact with the man, his arm rebelled in searing agony. The type of pain that he only got around truly dark, evil magic. A flicker of doubt whipped through Vahanian's eyes, and was quickly replaced with determined resolve. At Vahanian's touch, Dancer whipped his sword from his hilt, like a coiled viper striking at prey, in a blinded attempt to dislodge himself from the perceived attacker. Vahanian brought his blade up in time to deflect it. The clang of steel meeting steel echoing across the square, almost like a bell heralding an arrival. The two men stood locked together by blades, neither willing to give ground.

"Who the hell are you?" Dancer hissed. Vahanian dislodged his sword from Dancer's, driving him back, and placing himself between Dancer and Saoirse. "Stand. Down." Vahanian said. A slight breeze picked up, seemingly from nowhere, billowing the fringes of tunics, cloaks, skirts, and dresses of the assembled masses. Vahanian stood, sword at the ready, eyeing Dancer up and down. "Give me a reason." He spat, his voice dripping with the implied challenge.

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

"Kill him!" Emilia shouted to Dancer, referencing Vahanian.

"Release me and I shall fight at your side!!" the small Noble woman's struggles became more intense as she writhed and twisted trying to get out of Saoirse's grip. As Vahanian put himself between Saoirse and Dancer, Emilia kicked forward and hit Vahanian in the back of the knee. Whether the hit would do much to the train warrior, or Dancer would find an opportunity to use it to his advantage, Emilia didn't know.

Ryosuke Guile

The Daleish Corner

Unbuckling his breastplate and setting it at the appropriate keystone location, Ryosuke then places 7 scrolls into the exterior formation of the ritual circle while muttering nonstop as he seemingly glides from place to place. Watching Sadona arrive with the dagger, Ryosuke merely nods in acceptance of deeds already done and witnesses Alice laying down further infusions of strength into the arcane array inscribed on the floor. When Alice beckons for him to join, he passes his buckler to his personal attendant, Grik, on the edge of the crowd, the Hierophant of Irondale steps inside the circle and into a position equidistant from Bernard and Alice.

"You heard the Duchess, Bernard. Play us a song." Ryosuke says softly, his mask concealing whatever expression might be on the young man's face.

Vahanian Blint

Emilia's kick was an annoyance at best, but it did enough to set Vahanian's temper off. He stepped back, keeping his eye on Dancer until he was next to Saoirse and Emilia. He turned and looked at the writhing child in Saoirse's grip and in a moment of annoyance, the back of his hand cracked against Emilia's cheek, causing her head to whip to the side, but not enough for Saoirse's grip to weaken. In a parental tone that brokered no argument he commanded "Silence child! The adults are speaking." As he turned back to face Dancer, he gave an unapologetic shrug to Saoirse as he walked past her and took up his post between Dancer and Saoirse, but far enough away from Saoirse that any further attempts at kicking, spitting, scratching, biting, and general annoying behavior from Emilia were rendered worthless.

Blep

Blep threw a wooden statue at the big mean man who smacked the young lady. He wasn't very nice man, no sir. His mam always told him to stand up to bad men, since he was the strongest of his brothers and sisters.

"Bad man not brave, beat up priest and hit defenseless lady. Blep not like."

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

Emilia's head snapped to the side, the pale cheek turning a flush red with a split to the soft skin bleeding down the side of her face. She was well versed to a beating and knew she could expect the hit to swell up into a nice black and blue by the days end. It took her a moment to shake away the bright lights that obscured her vision and the pain that pulsed in her temples. When she did, as usual, it was her mouth that did the fighting;

"Oh yeah, the "adults", Champion Priest Beater, the Abuser of Women, the amazing, the astonishing Vahanian!" Emilia laughed, her voice ringing out merrily in the Square.

"You going to send me to my room, oh glorious one? Should I put on a nice slip for you, or do you like the mystery of wondering what's beneath?" Emilia taunted.

"Oooh please, punish me more, I could use a good spanking m'lord." She ended the last taunt, spitting out some blood on the ground in front of Vahanian.

"Please, I've been hit harder by a stiff breeze."

Vahanian Blint

Vahanian wanted very badly to turn around and decapitate Emilia on the spot, but he restrained himself, ignoring her taunts and insults as one would a misbehaving child, acting out for attention. Instead he focused on the burning feeling in his arm, the portal shards were reacting to something about Dancer. A darkness that Vahanian hadn't seen or felt in a long time.

He studied the man before him with a warrior's eye. He looked to be in his 5th decade, but there was something about him, something in his eyes that spoke of a lifetime of experiences, and not all of them pleasant. Every instinct in him said to strike, to press his advantage and kill this man before him. His body screamed at him to obey, to end the source of his arm's pain. He pushed all of that aside, wrestling the emotion down, choking it into submission until he was once more master of them and in control.

The child's screaming hadn't let up, but he barely heard it now. He was singularly focused on the man before him, who was Dancer Rea? Vahanian delved into his own brain and reviewed what he knew. Thalmarkin noble.

Rea family.

Dark magic

Warrior.

Afflicted? Sick? Possessed? Acting?

Vahanian hated this, he hated not knowing, not understanding.

  • Focus. Time for that later.* He thought to himself. He tensed and relaxed his muscles, readying himself like a wolf readying for a kill. He wasn't sure if Dancer was going to attack, but he'd be damned if he was going to be caught off guard.

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

Being ignored by Vahanian was a good play, and only made her more angry. Her struggling lessened as she focused instead on her words, trying to find the right angle to make the man squirm. She watched him looking at Dancer, and switched her offensive.

"Oh I see, not into the ladies hmm? He's a bit old don't you think, but then again so are you? Tell me, when you're both old enough to be the "papa bear", which one carries the burden?" Emilia smirked, jerking her chin up at Dancer.

"I bet he'd be the dominant one, just look at him, I bet he has a set of whips at home just for you." She went on, "Too busy day dreaming about a whole different "sword" fight to respond to me?"

"Nothing like a good thrust and parry, wouldn't you say? Hell, if beating up on priests isn't a sure form of foreplay I don't know what is. Here I thought you were whispering in his ear, but maybe you just wanted a little nibble."

And so she continued, oblivious to or ignorant of or all together not caring about what danger she was in, with the stream of insults.

Dancer Rea

By Akkan, that man was fast. Dancer had had barely enough time to defend himself before being thrown back from the dueling woman. Not that he was a fast fighter himself. Due to his eye sight, and his mangled back, he'd found strength to be his friend in fighting, rather then speed. And what had that feeling been, the almost buzz when the man had touched him? He took in the situation for a moment, the two woman still tangled on the ground, Jheda loyally standing by Anyte's side, some child from VS riding in, based on the blood red banners, and the man standing in front of him, defiantly standing in his way.

His old friend anger rose within him at the man. How dare he interrupt his conversation with the Grandmistress? A light breeze shifted his wolverine skin cloak,

"Kill him! Release me and I shall fight at your side!!"

The VS noble on the ground yelled and kicked, receiving a swift slap in return from the man in the way.

"Oh yeah, the "adults", Champion Priest Beater, the Abuser of Women, the amazing, the astonishing Vahanian!"

Ahhhhhh. The Duke and Lord of Keffa. No wonder he had gotten in the way. Dancer smiled his wolfish smile, and lowered his sword point to the ground. He'd heard stories about this man, and he certainly didn't want to fight him, if he could avoid it. His milky eyes fell back to Anyte, her fiery presence somewhat diminished these days by the cane she leaned on. She would tell him to stay calm, to talk it through. Slowly, he breathed, allowing the anger, and perhaps a little fear, to drain away.

"Nothing like a good thrust and parry, wouldn't you say? Hell, if beating up on priests isn't a sure form of foreplay I don't know what is. Here I thought you were whispering in his ear, but maybe you just wanted a little nibble."

The VS woman continued to shout insults, at both of them now, but Dancer focused only on the man before him. Children playing at nobility were not his concern right now.

"Vahanian Blint, is it?"

His gruff growl rolled across the space like a wave. He was a solider first, and diplomacy wasn't his strong suit, but for Anyte, he would try.

"Help me stop this, or stand aside, Vahanian."

The colors of the twin light pillars reflected off the steel of drawn weapons, the pair of men, both survivors of the last invasion, staring each other down.

Vahanian Blint

"Vahanian Blint, is it?"

His gruff growl rolled across the space like a wave. He was a solider first, and diplomacy wasn't his strong suit, but for Anyte, he would try.

"Help me stop this, or stand aside, Vahanian."

The colors of the twin light pillars reflected off the steel of drawn weapons, the pair of men, both survivors of the last invasion, staring each other down.

Vahanian didn't move for a long time, didn't speak. The square seemed silent despite the incessant chirping of Emilia and the general hum and buzz of the assembled crowd. He met Dancer's eyes, Dancer raised an eyebrow quizzically at Vahanian and Vahanian responded with

"Dancer Rea, puppet and lapdog of the heathen princess." Dancer stiffened at Vahanian's verbal jab and turned to glance at Anyte. Vahanian clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if to summon a dog. Dancer's head turned back to face Vahanian, a mask of fury.

Vahanian rolled his shoulders and said "You are in my city. You are in my realm. You want the authority to stop this? Come and take it." Vahanian's stance lowered as he prepared for what he now knew was coming. Two titans of battle were going to war.

Siclica Wolfvern

The Square

"Emilia calm down!! Please!!" Yelling from center of corpse. "Screaming isn't going to help you..."

"Oh yeah, the "adults", Champion Priest Beater, the Abuser of Women, the amazing, the astonishing Vahanian!" Emilia laughed, her voice ringing out merrily in the Square.

"What the hell is Vahanian" Her body turned to her direction. She noticed 3 people Polli screaming in pain with blood, and two men standing near Emilia and the Grand Mistress. Her eyes moved furiously not understanding how did they get there already and she gone unnoticed of this.

Head running at what should be done Polli injured they need attention, Emilia is in danger, two new men are now on the stage they will need to be dealt with. She took a moment then took action. "Axel attend to Polli immediately, you five, pointing to the edges of the ring of dead, grab your spears and shields and come with me" Siclica barked orders and them ran to the meet the new threats.

Upon approaching Emilia is still throwing insults and her rage had not quilted. She had gathered one was named Vahanian that which she was insulting and the other Dancer. She approached them from a third angle coming from Polli direction. Putting her between them and the bodies behind them. "Who are you two!!! And what are you doing here!" She was to far away to had heard any pervious talk they may have had.

A few moments passed the Spearman she called for had made it to her. "Circle around them I don't know who to trust." Her eyes daggers at the two of them cause she had let them pass her unnoticed. Vahanian had scoffed at Emilia and she didn't like she her ally be looked down upon. And the other had yet to speak motive unknown.

She waited for answers halberd drawn and ready to strike any who made any sudden moves.

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

"ooooooooh you going to let him talk to you like that papa bear?" Emilia continued, injecting herself into every conversation Vahanian tries to have and addressing Dancer.

She looked over at Antye as Dancer and Vahanian eluded to the "heathen princess", returning her attention to Vahanian.

"Everything's a heathen to you isn't it, too busy "Obeying" as is your God's name sake to actually have semi intelligible thought." Emilia asked the older warrior.

"And how fortunate, I did say you needed a dog to kick after you finished beating up the priest. Is this the lapdog you mean to kick?" Emilia looked between Dancer and Vahanian from her restrained position back and to the side.

"I mean it would probably be more polite if you didn't kick someone else's dog, but you've never been one for the high ground, have you Sir" She prattled on.

"Just like men to come in after everything's already taken care of and make it about themselves."

Emilia glanced over and spotted her dagger on the ground about five feet away.. if she could just.. get there. She began to set her feet more solidly as she resumed, now more to distract than to harm.

"I am sensing some serious sexual tension here guys, you should really talk this out. We need details.. deetaiiils...," she moved her right hand some, which caused pain to shoot up her wrist from the break from Saoirse' buckler.

"Things like, what's your favorite position? You should really work this out before you get started, establish a good safe word." she pivoted her hip a bit to prepare to elbow Saoirse in the ribs to see if she can get free and get to her dagger.

Dancer Rea

That arrogant, insufferable heretic. Anger returned to him, and the wolfish smile fell away to the wash of pure rage that fell over Dancer. How dare that ignorant swine insult Anyte? His calvary sword rose of it's own volition, and he took a single step forward.

Bastard.

Another step, his sword raised to a aggressive position across his body.

Heretic.

He stepped again, his sword point flashing in the lights of the pillars as he fell into a form taught to him long ago.

Arrogant human.

He couldn't help it, with the magic in the air, and heretics in front of him, he fell into his proper fighting style of yesteryear, and, despite his sword being to heavy for it.

Liar.

Dancer lunged at Vahanian, rage tracing his every step. Steel clashed as the men, two sides of the same coin, came to battle.

You have accepted the duel from Vahanian Blint.

Jheda Orobar

Jheda watched Dancer circling Vahanian, both men ready to spill blood. From the corner of his eyes, he tried to determine if Anyte would intervene or not.

In the background, the enormous pillars of light, changing colour ever so often, were all but forgotten. Even if their constant humming would be replaced with a clear voice shouting 'I'm the reason you're all here', people still wouldn't care for such a meaningless event. Not if their own ego was at stake. Maybe Daimons wiping them all out was what they deserved?

Anyte Luitolf

The Square

Anyte watched from afar what was happening as Dancer approached Saoirse as there was little else she could do being surrounded by Jheda's men. The whole scene that had been splayed out before her was ridiculous and flew in the face of Saoirse's words to her as queen. She had claimed that the templars and inquisitors had changed, which from what Anyte could see were true, but they had not changed for the better. Instead, it seemed they had changed places. Where once it was the inquisitors that would lay blame without proof, now that seemed to be the purview of the templars. This was shown to Anyte by no other than the Grand Templar himself.

"You see that fool there," Anyte said speaking to Jheda, "the one Dancer is fighting? That is Vanhanian. He is one of the ones that stood by and watched as inquisitors burned down my family home for no reason. He is one of the ones that allowed them to chase most of us to other continents. He spoke out against them enough, but when push came to shove, he allowed them to attack innocent people with impunity. "

She stood there, surrounded Jheda's men. At one point in time, she would have never needed such protections, but ever since that fateful night in Unger things had changed. The night that left stains of her own blood one the Throne of Thalmarkin itself still to this very day.

"We have a choice, my friend. We can stay and watch this, or we can look for more information on these lights. I had a run-in with a commoner that gave me a ring a while back when I came to the city. They usually know more about portals as they are the ones to search out the stones and place them. That could be a start if you don't view yourself above it."

3rd October

Summer Day

Duel

Sir Dancer Rea, Duke of the Northeast Wind, Baron of Jedinchel meets his challenger Vahanian Blint, Grand Templar of Obia'Syela, Duke of Amen Keffa, Margrave of Keffa, Marshal of the Holy Reclaimers for the agreed duel till surrender.
Vahanian has decided to use the 'defensive' strategy while Dancer has chosen the 'overrun' strategy, giving Vahanian the advantage.
The duel goes back and forth for a while. Finally, Dancer surrenders after suffering a light wound.

Kristina Chamberlain

The Temple

The sudden calm amidst the etheric maelstrom was the first taste of peace she had felt in days. The slightly disconnected feeling ensured that she appreciated this was not her and some ethereal sense of self that she knew would have to end... but if this was beyond the veil, if this was how death felt, she understood a little how some older people embraced the peace as they escaped the struggle. If she could stay on Moiras path of good intent, she wondered would death be such a bad thing.

She allowed Moiras words to keep her attention, she knew this levity was not her, but it would be so easy to be consumed by it and she began to wonder if this lulling to torpor was in preparation for the column pevour her inner self. Moira indicated the twisting columns. The way they bulged and changed was not a little disturbing...

"Something is trying to escape the fold," Moira gestured to the heart of the light, "what is it?" Moira asked.

Kristina tried to engage her second sight, but the fact thqt this was an astral projection meant that such qctivities were impossible. As the columns twisted she felt a tug on the prime fires that wasincreaingly insistent of discharge... it frightened her.

"Its like there is a... fracture, where it is... when it comes around... by Obeah the pull for magical energies is strong... it puts me in mind of when women are birthing... the crescendo of contraction, but here it is reversed, as the contraction comes it is pulling in.... Moira, do you feel it... tugging at your very soul? Oh my..."

Jheda Orobar

The Square

"You see that fool there," Anyte said speaking to Jheda.

Jheda watched the wide variety of fools and idiots before him. All believing their meaningless actions and business were more important than the massive eruption of magic happening right next to them. Fighting eachother instead of trying to control this together. He wondered how much longer it would take the Gods to realise their failure and wipe them all out. Looking at the pulsating lights, it might be sooner than anyone realised.

Just as he was about to ask the Princess to be more specific, she started talking about Vahanian. When she finished her story, Jheda couldn't help but feel her sentiments about this man were justified. "I know him, Princess. He may present himself as a noble and just man, but he isn't much more than a cold-blooded murderer abusing his faith to justify his actions. His reputation isn't one built around good deeds and love stories. Not a man to be underestimated. I believe Dancer to be just as big a fool for crossing his path."

"We have a choice, my friend. We can stay and watch this, or we can look for more information on these lights. I had a run-in with a commoner that gave me a ring a while back when I came to the city. They usually know more about portals as they are the ones to search out the stones and place them. That could be a start if you don't view yourself above it."

"Not at all, Princess. Those are actually the first wise words I heard today. Please, lead the way." He looked back at Dancer, wondering how he would get out of this one.

Eriol Blackdagger

The Square

Eriol watched the two dueling while Emilia barked insults with a bored, almost irritated expression. "With this magical activity, why are these fools....." Eriol could not finish his though, as he saw his servant, the Lady Emilia, eyeing a dagger on the ground and slowly going towards it, meanwhile goading on the two combatants. Looking around for the Grandmistress, the Blood Regent gasped he believed he understood what was going on. Eriol tried to make his way through the throng to intercept Emilia, before she did something that thousands might regret.

Moira

The Temple

The Priestess was an interesting character study. Clearly an intelligent woman with a willingness to seek Moira's aid very much at odds with the popular image of Obian arrogance, yet at the same time a sorceress with a definite agenda. Outside the Vales the sect of Obeah had few friends and there were likely as many who considered them daemon worshippers as the Mordokians. Was that the purpose of her ritual? And if not what was she trying to achieve?

It was also obvious Kristina had never entered the Flow before as she was having difficulty adjusting to the peculiarities of the higher dimensions. Not only would Moira have to be very careful in how she chose to explain things, there was also the danger Kristina might not realise the danger their adventure posed to her physical flesh.

"A fold like this is not a natural phenomenon," Moira was circling the twin columns, though to Kristina's eyes the movement seemed erratic, kaleidoscopic, strobing through some angles more than once and through others not at all, "Think of it like a..." she wanted to say transfluence but that would require too many other explanations, "like a stoppered bottle if you will - set adrift in the Flow. Someone made it for a purpose and sealed it with powerful wards but all this energy around us means it doesn't want to stay sealed. Currently only our portals are keeping it that way."

The two women were side-by-side again though it seemed their hands had remained clasped throughout.

"Whilst I'd love to know who created this bottle and why they set it adrift, the question we really need to answer Priestess is whether or not to let the cork pop and release whatever is contained within."

Hunt progressed

Inica has continued hunting for undead in Keffa using the charge strategy, and has reached group #8
Inica has continued hunting for undead in Keffa using the charge strategy, and has reached group #9

Ralidithous

"What do you mean hunt number nine?" Ralidithous sputters, clearly jealous. "How is that person not dead?"

Vahanian Blint

Dancer stepped through his form as the hatred in his voice seeped through his gritted teeth. Vahanian dropped into a low stance, sword at the ready when he paused. That form. "Impossible" he muttered to himself. His mind flashing back to a dungeon, the screams of his wife and child, that sick, rattling, laugh, and then the cold tundra of the Thalmarkin wildlands.

His vision cleared just in time. The strike from Dancer was strong, his technique was near perfect. Vahanian defended. His arm burned, and he used that, pulling the pain into him and using it. Using it to fan the flames of his own hatred, of his own rage. In this moment, every atrocity Vahanian had ever witnessed, every moment of agonizing torture that he'd endured, all of that was centralized in this one.... creature before him. The clang of steel on steel drowned out every other sound in the square for Vahanian. He settled into his battle calm with ease. There were a number of the gathered people who'd seen Vahanian fight. Most had just seen him spar with a priest, but very few had seen him fight someone of such skill, and even fewer had seen Vahanian fight with the determination he fought now. Dancer was strong, his attacks weren't the fastest, but when they did come, they made themselves known. Vahanian parried and riposted, and was met by a glancing blow from Dancer's saber, his parry hadn't fully blocked the strike. Vahanian's mistake was reprimanded by the all too familiar feeling of cold steel parting through warm flesh. He pulled away, blood welling to the surface of his bicep. Given the amount of blood, or lack of it, he knew the wound wasn't deep.

Vahanian grunted, barred his teeth and waited. The onslaught of Dancer resumed, as did Vahanian's defense. The fight devolved from a contest of skill, to more one governed by sheer will and pure determination. Vahanian and Dancer each blocked and delivered strikes that would have felled most men. He raised his guard high, catching Dancer's downward slash. Their blades locked by the cross-guards, they were inches from one another's faces. Vahanian's arm seared in pain, and his bicep ached from the cut. He slammed his forehead forward, into Dancer's nose, causing a blinding flash of pain, and blood to pour from Dancer's nose. Some of the blood mixed with the beads of sweat that had formed on Vahanian's brow, and both sweat and blood streaked down his face like small, red rivers cutting across the landscape of his face. Vahanian disengaged their swords and pushed back, creating distance.

Dancer grinned at him through the blood, his teeth peering through the pouring blood like white islands in a lake of red. He spat out a wad of phlegm and blood, howled and surged forward. Strike after strike was thrown by Dancer, powerful blows that reverberated through Vahanian's guard and up his arms. Vahanian held his ground, blocking and parrying the flurry of powerful strikes. One slipped through, and bit into Vahanian's shoulder. If he hadn't been wearing his armor, he was relatively certain the strike would have taken his arm off. The pain of the blade being lodged in his shoulder was almost as bad as the pain of it being ripped free. The two in rapid succession caused him to howl in pain and made his head and vision swim. Only the burning pain in his arm, from the portal shards kept his head clear. Vahanian breathed through gritted teeth. Despite the battered nature of his body, he was sure he'd seen an opening. He just needed to time it right. If Dancer were to strike with the right combination and it could work. He just needed to hold on long enough.

Vahanian Blint

Vahanian's patience and endurance were rewarded, he found his opening, he dodged, and parried the slash he felt coming, he was rewarded with the opening he'd seen. He moved forward and past Dancer, slashing down with his blade and scoring a gash on Dancer's right thigh. As Vahanian stepped through with his strike, he hooked Dancer's right foot with his own, and kicked it back, dropping him to his knees lest he totally lose balance. Vahanian spun, dislodging his foot from Dancer's and slashing down, cutting across Dancer's back. The whimper of pain from Dancer was otherworldly. Dancer's saber rattled against the ground as he dropped it, gasping for air through the pain. Vahanian was still seeing red. He kicked Dancer in the back, dropping him onto his chest and further driving the air from his lungs. He stood over Dancer, grabbing a fistful of his hair through his own heavy breathing and readied himself to sever the heathen's head.

A soft familiar voice in his head spoke to him. "Vahanian.." The voice, full of calm, peace, and life spoke softly. Vahanian didn't dare look up. Didn't dare see whom he knew was there. He knew he wouldn't be able to take it if he saw the vision with his own eyes. "Vahanian." The voice said again, this time a bit more firm, but still quite gentle. He felt a soothing presence brush against his mind, he knew what he had to do and despite his every instinct, every desire screaming at him to kill Dancer, he knew that this was not the time nor place for the heathen's death. He was still holding Dancer by the hair, he crouched down next to him and pulled Dancer's head back and said "You live today because I allowed it." He roughly released his grip on Dancer and stood, walking over to his soldiers and his captain to have his wounds quickly tied with strips of cloth.

Timsen Quasath

Square

Bloody battles turned into individual duels as enemies focused on specific opposition and channelled their wrath. Timsen ignored them all, as they were mortal affairs. He was focused on the Lights, and the...things...within. Something was coming, that was for sure. Something...that could either be for good or for evil. The colours kept shifting. The potential kept flowing. As mortal magics were released, the Lights were reacting.

Timsen fingered the scroll again and made his decision. He moved from the square towards the Temple, a place to get closer to the Lights. Close enough to make a small offering, but one that may cleanly and safely open the way for something better.

Approaching the shifting Lights, Timsen waited until the bold Green emerged, a healthy natural colour. When the Green glowed brightly, Timsen knelt in front of it and offered his Scroll of Healing, feeding it into the Green Light.

Summer Evening

==== Saoirse MacArbin

The Square

So many things happened at once, it was impossible, later, for Saoirse to disentangle them in her memory. Which came first, which came later, which happened in the way she thought she recalled, and which were subject to that most human molding of events to matters that made more sense to her, was never something she could decide upon. Instead, her thoughts of that time were ordered by the different strands, as that made the most sense to her, personally.

Sometime after finishing with the Vordulian troops belonging to the venomous blasphemer, a mob of soldiers from Thalmar charged into a mass of mixed Obian and Valesian forces, and the new guards who had arrived as part of the reinforcements, and who then replaced her valiant fallen lancers, joined the fray and killed their share of the attackers before eventually aiding in the capture of their leader.

Her head was filled with a wash of outrage, pure rage, calm, contentment, concern, focus, and worry. She could hardly tell what was magical, what was her, and what was a reflection of those around her all trying to sway her actions. Her white-knuckled grip on the Sanguinian held for a long moment as she tried to bring herself under control, under her will, regardless of what outside forces were seeking to impose. There were shouts, and pleas, and demands and commands, all noted and all waiting their turn behind Saoirse's eyes for consideration.

The vitriol from her erstwhile foe spewed out in an unending stream of filth, annoying and disgusting, but of no consequence.

She saw Vahanian intervene, and face off with what she belated realized had to be the infamous Dancer. Part of her wished she could just watch the clash, certain she could learn a great deal from that struggle.

But it was the arrival of the Blood Regent, obvious from his retinue and insignia, that brought certain ideas together in her mind, suddenly pulling her focus to the fore.

"Blood Regent Eriol. Your noble here has violated the terms of visitation to Keffa, and I remand her to your custody. I expect that she not be allowed further disruptions or blasphemies, and to be removed from Keffa and Obian territory as soon as may be. Polli is similarly guilty of blasphemy and attempting to blatantly interfere with our rite, and they need to be brought to heel, if they are not already dead from the fray. I am not asking for executions, though that is the usual punishment for such crimes in Obia'Syela, but I need them controlled."

There was blood splattered across her violet armour, and her eyes were brown eyes held his fiercely.

Eriol Blackdagger

The Square - Collaborative RP

Dancer and Vahanian's duel in the courtyard was a work of art compared to the prior bout between Emilia and Saoirse. The sound of metal sang through the Square, a courtyard already littered with the bodies of the dead and dying horses and soldiers from the massacre meant to interrupt Polli's ritual that had quickly turned dark and bloody. The sigils drawn in both chalk and blood surrounded both Polli and Godfrey, who did their best to stand their ground as the Keffan military stomped through the ritual, working to smear the markings with their feet and trying to disarm the goblet of blood from Godfrey.

Siclica, a primal looking Amazonian warrior with a helm of a white lion, its paws and pelt draped over her shoulder and back, commanded armed soldiers to protect the combatants while trying to diffuse the situation.

The Blood Regent of Vordul Sanguinis, Eriol Blackdagger's cavalry stood for the most part at the eastern entrance to the square, the Regent himself having dismounted and approached with a few personal guard the scene at the center of the Square. He scanned the Square As Vahanian and Dancer's dance of blades came close to an end, trying to determine the role that his Vordulian subjects played in the scene taking place before him.

As his gaze swept past the two combatants he spotted Siclica, who appeared to be working toward calming things down, good. Looking further, Eriol's eyes landed on what appeared to be the Grand Mistress, tightly holding onto a short blonde haired girl in black and red armor. The Regent suddenly recognized the woman as Lady Emilia, most recent addition to the Vordulian Nobility. Following her gaze, he saw the dagger she looked at, and engaged the duo.

As the Regent came forward, Saoirse recognized him and spoke out to address him, "Blood Regent Eriol. Your noble here has violated the terms of visitation to Keffa, and I remand her to your custody. I expect that she not be allowed further disruptions or blasphemies, and to be removed from Keffa and Obian territory as soon as may be. Polli is similarly guilty of blasphemy and attempting to blatantly interfere with our rite, and they need to be brought to heel, if they are not already dead from the fray. I am not asking for executions, though that is the usual punishment for such crimes in Obia'Syela, but I need them controlled."

Lady Emilia saw her opportunity as Saoirse was distracted and jerked her right elbow down into the Grandmistress's rib cage, her bony elbow not enough to cause much harm but enough to cause a reflexive inhale and cause Saoirse's restraining arm to loosen just slightly. The smaller Emilia, who was a scrapper through and through, writhed and broke free of Saoirse's grasp and made a lunge for her dagger. Using her off hand given her right was broken, she grabbed her dagger off the ground with her left and swing wildly toward Saoirse, the dagger's tip aimed for her chest.

The Blood Regent's hand snapped up, grabbing Emilia's hand by the wrist, halting the blade from hitting Saoirse. With a deft twist of his grip, Emilia yelped out in pain and the dagger clattered to the ground.

Eriol's cold, calm demeanor shattered, his body shaking in anger. "By the Eternal Emperor, where have you lost your mind?!?!? I gave my word in good faith to the Obians, and you have made me to be a liar!"

Kicking the dagger away, Eriol turned to the Grandmistress, never letting go of Emilia's arm. "Blasphemy?" Nodding up to the pillars of light Eriol continued, "I believe we have greater issues than supposed blasphemy, Grandmistress. As for this one, I will deal with her, as she was here in Keffa in an official activity. This Polli was not."

Turning to Emilia, the Blood Regent's demeanor returns. His voice lowers and becomes calm again. "Where is His Eminence, Godfrey, and my friend Gustav?"

Bright Dreams

You wake up, blinded by the intensely bright sunlight of the day, trying to clear your eyes.

Just as your eyes adjust, you wake up again, realizing you have dreamt of awakening to the sunlight.

Valian Stone Daubeny

Outside the Temple Square

Valian saw a figure nearby watching something that was happening in the square.

The figure seemed to notice Valian’s gaze and returned one, the figures eyes blazing as he stepped into the light and Valian felt his heart stop.

The figure seemed to share the recognition but returned it with a cruel smile and his eyes almost seeming to glow red.

Valian turned to Captain Tomasa, her mouth a thin line and her eyebrows creasing in concern.

Valian pointed to the temple “Get Liz and the Piper out of here.”

Tomasa and the 51 other Riot Guard formed to escort and protect Viviane and Elizabeth.

Valian unslung his mace as he walked forward, his face a mask of rage. The figure’s grin widened as they walked towards each other, Valian felt the heat from the fire in the cold alley way, he heard the screams, could taste the blood, see the bodies, his rage focussed on the figure before him and Valian screamed, his voice raw with emotion, it was a loud scream that those in the Temple Square likely heard it.

“BLACKSTONE YOU MURDERER!”

Valian leapt and swung his hammer, bringing it crashing down towards the man, who grinned.

Duncan Blackstone

Outside the Temple Square

Duncan saw the man run at him, he could see the rage and sorrow, Duncan was pissed off already because of Dancer, pigheaded bastard. If Valian wanted to get revenge Duncan was more the happy to oblige Sir Stone and help him fulfil his death wish.

Duncan grinned wider as Valian screamed “BLACKSTONE YOU MURDERER!” Duncan dodged the first blow, nearly effortlessly.

“I was always faster Valian, I was then and I am now.” Duncan rolled to the side and tossed a dagger which sliced across Valian’s cheek.

Valian grabbed Duncan by the colour and sent him stumbling into the Temple Square, Duncan fell flat on his back as he tripped over the stones.

Valian was on him, he swung down and Duncan barely dodged a blow as the mace smashed into the stone, cracking and denting it.

Duncan kicked Valian in the leg and rolled to the side, he jumped back up into a combat stance, Duncan drew both his daggers and grinned.

Valian was bleeding lightly from the dagger slice and he was clearly tired by the heavy plate armour, Duncan grinned “Too much for you Stone, here I thought you were here to avenge them? Or did your Wife, Son and Blood Brother mean nothing too you?”

Valian screamed and charged again “YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO THEM!”

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

Turning to Emilia, the Blood Regent's demeanor returns. His voice lowers and becomes calm again. "Where is His Eminence, Godfrey, and my friend Gustav?"

Emilia pointed toward the center of the mounds of corpses left over after Saoirse' Radian Lancers charged her unit of archers, Shadow's Blight. Within the center of the circle were Godfrey, bleeding from the side of his face and holding a goblet full of blood and his severed ear, and Polli, who had led the Vordulians to Keffa, and had begun the ritual in the square with chalk, until the priestess had broken her chalk and forced her to resort to using blood.

"The Prophet is there! They cut off his ear, Regent, his ear!" she gushed, her voice becoming one of fright and disparity.

"I promise you, we did not lay the first blow, I was just trying to protect them... protect them and I failed!" Emilia's eyes welled with tears, the small woman looking her young age as a profound sadness shown on her bruised face.

She pointed over to Vahanian, "That's the man who cut his ear off, and when I tried to stop him he hit me," she pointed to her right eye which was beginning to swell and showed a cut across the high cheekbone.

"And then she ordered my men to be slaughtered in the streets and she tried to capture me!"

She curled her arms inward, burring her face in Eriol's chest as she began to sob. "And Gustav.... oh Lord Gustav... I saw him rushing inside by himself.. I'm sure they've... I've sure they've..... killed him."

"Please don't let them hurt me any more, please Regent, don't let them..."

She trailed off into sobbing uncontrollably and trying to hide in Eriol's embrace.

Siclica Wolfvern

The Square

"I can vouch for that Saoirse did start the battle. I had my men line up in front of Emilia's archers as a deterrent hoping that it hold off any thought of physical confrontation but, it didn't. She charged long into spears and archers".

"I keep Godfrey save from harm once the battle had begun. Sadly Polli was to far for me to reach." She exclaimed. "No further injuries has become to him unless they were self inflicted which I did not stop him."

Siclica face was still looking at the combatants though the duel was ended. She wasn't sure if this would be the end of it. Now that her liege was here though a small breath of relief had came to her.

"Are you two finished now?" She commanded "If not please continue so it'll be easier to arrest you. I may hold no authority here but, their is to much life loss already over the actions of Emilia and Saoirse. Mainly Saoirse". Her eyes swiftly glared to the Grand Mistress for a quick second then went back to the Combatants.

"What should be done with these two Blood Regent? One cut off Godfrey's ear and the other I still don't know off."

Polli

The Square
Earlier with Godfrey

"Poli, your arrival here is a sign that the Eternal Emperor wishes to usher change. You must be inducted to the faith, offer your wrist to me and repeat after me. From here, I will see your destiny through as his prophet:

From this day forward,
I am Sworn to the Eternal Emperor.
As it has been given, it can be taken, by his word.
Through him I shall have power.
Through him I shall have immortality.
Through him, and only him, shall I have absolution.
For now, and forever.
So do I swear, In Blood Eternal.

Polli nods, offering her wrist, "It brings change indeed, in more than one sense."

Solemnly, she swears, "From this day forward," her mind racing across her many previous days.

"I am sworn to the Eternal Emperor," as she reflects upon her calling to the column of light.

​​​​As it has been given, it can be taken, by his word.
Through him I shall have power.
Through him I shall have immortality.
Through him, and only him, shall I have absolution.
For now, and forever.

"So do I swear, In Blood Eternal," she concludes the oath, along with Emilia Delamoire.

Dancer Rea

Pain was not a new concept for the Duke, he had lived, and caused much of it over the years. However, it had been literal decades since he had felt more then a dull pain in his back. Long ago he had been whipped like a slave, hundreds of times, leaving a thick scar tissue that had blocked all feeling from his back ever since. The cut reached from hip to shoulder, and Dancer could feel every inch of parted flesh. Vahanian had cut deep, through the layers of scar tissue, and to the muscle beneath. At least, Dancer hoped it wasn't any deeper. The sudden pain cut through his anger, and dropped him to his knees, and the swift kick that followed sent him to the ground.

His head was pulled back by the hair, and cold steel pressed to his neck. Was this it? Was this the end? Ironic, the last Deamon Cultist dying trying to stabilize the veil between worlds. He looked out over the crowd through his pain filled vision. He could see one of his advies out there, watching from the crowd. He'd failed them, dying like this. The steel pressed harder into his neck, and a small amount of hot blood trickled down the blade.

Then, the steel left.

"You live today because I allowed it."

Liar. Dancer had seen first hand what happened to his people when an inquisitor got ahold of them.

Dancer's face met stone, and beautiful, painless darkness enveloped him.

4th October

Summer Day

Training Match

Sir Jecht Tideweaver, Emperor of Shattered Vales, Royal of Shattered Vales, Marshal of the Army of the Vales meets his challenger Arnulf Wellshot, Dame of Ete City for the agreed training match.
Arnulf has decided to use the 'aggressive' strategy while Jecht has chosen the 'overrun' strategy, giving Jecht the advantage.
After a series of blows, Jecht wins the training match. Unfortunately, the winning blow was deep and Arnulf has suffered a minor wound.

Luto

Somewhere on Keffa's Streets

"It is what It is. The Others are those who attempt to take it for their realms. It would hurt because It is not yours," Luto attempted to explain to Yao Ling over the roaring and screeches of a catfight between a cougar and a tiger.

Jecht Tideweaver

The Square- Shattered Vales Sect

Jecht took to an open portion of the square while awaiting for Dolores to need him further for the ritual.

He met one of his new nobles, Arnulf to begin their teachings in the blade.

When Arnulf charged the Emperor hastily, Jecht made a judgement call to show the younger noble how to counter aggression with aggression. Shifting his blade in a lower stance, Jecht flicked his sword up as Arnulf closed in, deflecting the oncoming blade well away from the Emperor but causing the noble to cut themselves along their ribs.

The duel was over quickly as the young knight cried out and grabbed their wound. Jecht immediately sheathed his blade and ran to their side.

"Bring the healers. They will need bandages." he commanded.

He pressed his hands against the younger nobles ribs and applied pressure.

"You'll be fine. But we will certainly need to work on your technique.

Viviane

Outside the Temple Square

The coffeehouse owner busy counting the coins, Viviane left under Valian's protection.

As Valian and his captain began to tense up, then Valian rang out his order and engaged some man in a brawl, Viviane asked Elizabeth who the piper was.

Valian Stone Daubeny

Outside the Temple Square

Elizabeth whispered to Viviane “That man there is Duncan, he is my uncle, he killed my dad and my friends.”

Elizabeth looked scared and huddled closer to Viviane, softly she spoke “You are the Piper, Miss Viviane, they call you and the others like you a Piper, I think it has something to do with an old folktale.”

Dolores

The Square
Shattered Vales

Soon after Emperor Jecht's offering to the Goddess, Dolores is tested by a magical attack. For two agonizing minutes that seem to stretch forever, her bones break from the inside, ripping open her skin. Miraculously, she maintains a hold upon the ritual. Yet then it all ends, the bones resetting, the skin reclosing, as if nothing ever happened. Confused, but relieved, she is uncertain but feels as if a trial of the ritual has been overcome.

Viviane

Outside the Temple Square

Viviane's countenance dimmed at mention of the fratricide, putting a comforting arm around young Elizabeth. One moment speaking about such a delicate subject with such frankness, the next seeking comfort as the young one she was.

"Me? A piper?! Nonsense!" Viviane clapped her cymbals for effect, "What could I ever have to do with am old folktale?"

Valian Stone Daubeny

Outside the Temple Square

Elizabeth smiled in the comfort of Viviane before she struck her cymbals, causing Elizabeth to yelp at the sudden noise “I am sorry Miss, that was just what I have been told by Uncle Valian.”

Elizabeth looked worries towards the Temple Square, she hugged Viviane tightly, trembling “I-I am scared, there is so much pain, so much death, it cries out and the music turns to chaos, I hear it in my head and soul, the music of Obeah is being drowned out by pain.”

Captain Tomasa approached the two and pointed towards the Temple and the Pillar of light. “Come on, we must get you to the Temple, trust Sir Stone, he has got this.”

Valian was losing...

Duncan’s flurry of blows forced him back, Duncan had all but rent Valian’s shield apart from the sheer ferocity of his blows.

Valian tried to swing back but felt a sharp pain in his hand, Valian dropped his mace instinctively as Duncan pulled his dagger back across Valian’s hand, leaving a deep slice on it.

Valian didn’t get time to recover before Duncan kicked him full in the chest, causing him to fall into the Temple Square, Duncan wailed on Valian with the pommel of his dagger “YOU ARE WEAK, JUST LIKE MARCUS, JUST LIKE HERVIS, YOU COULDN’T PROTECT THEM, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN PROTECT HER!” Duncan screamed his words as he held Valian by the collar of his breastplate “THE DAUBENYS TIME IN THE LIGHT IS OVER!”

Duncan smashes the pommel into Valian’s face again, blood and a few teeth flying from the Knight’s mouth.

“You...you took everything from us, well now it’s our turn, The Blackstones are done being second to your oh so precious Daubenys.”

Valian spat blood at Duncan “You can kill me, but you lose Blackstone.” The last word was filled with hate as Duncan looked around to see he had beaten Valian all the way into the Temple Square, he could feel the gazes of nobles on him like a burning beam of light.

Duncan held his dagger to Valian’s throat.

Eriol Blackdagger

In his mind's eye, Eriol is blinded by the vision of sunlight. The light finding every hidden place in his mind and exposing it to its warm touch. It is both startling and comforting. His mental image of himself closes his eyes, and drinks in the light. He could sit here for days and never know it.

The Blood Regent is jarred suddenly by a loud cry of a young woman, "Dont let them!" He is brought back to the real world and to Emilia embracing him in fear, weeping and trying to explain herself.

Shocked by Emilia's embrace the Blood Regent stands motionless, his arms out, but not returning the embrace. Uncomfort and slight embarassment on his face, Eriol swallows hard, and weakly pats Emilia on the shoulder. "Uhhh, now now. No...umm...need for *ahem*" Desparately looking around with one of his nobles latched to him like a leech, he seeks out the Grandmistress. Not directly seeing her but knowing she is close by, Eriol asks loudly, "Is what she says true? Did she not serve the first blow?" Looking over his shoulder, the Blood Regent could make out His Eminence, the Prophet Godfrey. With the commotion and the throng of people, Eriol couldn't make out any real detail. However he was glad to see his friend still lived.

Patting Emilia again on the shoulder, Eriol continues, "Grandmistress I ask, is what she says true?"

Timsen Quasath

Outside Temple, next to the Lights

After offering his scroll of Healing, Timsen awoke from the dream of a full rest and the light of a new day. He felt refreshed in his body and soul. He hoped the dream was the result of his peaceful action.

He hoped the spiritual Healing was enough to restore all humanity in the city, and bless whatever else was happening.

Timsen hoped, and continued to hold onto hope as he knelt in front of the Lights.

Summer Evening

Arjan de Zueww

The Square - Shattered Vales Camp

Arjan had spent an uneasy few days pacing their camp in Keffa. He preferred an honest scrap to all this mumbo jumbo and cryptic message stuff but he was as loyal to the Daishi Goddess as any man and he would do anything to defend her name or any of his kinsmen. He hadn't been sleeping well, troubled by nightmares of evil deamons clawing at his skin and a floods of monsters swarming over him. He also had a recurrent dream of drowning under a lake but a slender female arm reaching under to pull him up. He didn't understand what was happening in Keffa but whatever was, he hoped it would happen soon. Checking his trusty war mace was close by he wrapped his thick cloak around him and settled down to try and catch some sleep.

Dreams of Collapse

You are standing upon a rampart when you hear a rumble, then a shout, and before you can identify the cause, feel the ground giving way below your feet, falling...

Awakening quite tired, you struggle with pessimism towards those you interact with throughout the day.

Heidr Aurelle

Outside the temple square

The clapping of cymbals alerted a presence, who promptly began his chase. Another of the Veiled Brothers at first glance. Amidst the chaos, a natural scene, another guard just running to defend something or somebody. Maybe the temple. Maybe to defuse the situation between Duncan and Valian. Maybe.

Captain Tomasa approached Viviane and Elizabeth and pointed towards the Temple and the Pillar of light. “Come on, we must get you to the Temple, trust Sir Stone, he has got this.”

The guard approached the three women, gave a martial salute, nodded and positioned himself at their back. Maybe protecting them. Maybe.

- "It has been a long time since I had other humans as prey. So long hunting monster and undead... At first it was exciting, and it certainly has a charm. But this... This is better. This is special. In the middle of the capital of a foreign realm, alone and surrounded by guards and armies of many other nations. Completely different from war and battles. I can feel my heart beating so loud I can hear it clearly, even in the midst of the chaos od this city and the noise. My sweat is cold. And I have a strange feeling growing inside me. This... This must be It. The thrill of the hunt!"

The guard draws a knife out of his pocket, grabs Viviane's neck with his arm and...

- "Let the Great Hunt begin!"

Stabs her sides multiple times before running off, evading the actual guards, soldiers and enraged citizens by, precisely, blending with them. Same as before. Just another guard, chasing an intruder. Pointing others like him towards the direction he was supposedly last seen. Just another one of many, until completely lost.

Moira

The Temple

Colours pulsed discordantly through the stones now leading to the columns of light, brooding blues shot through with sepruchal reds and a slender thread of glorious golden orange. As the colours moved they bled into the roiling maelstrom all around, creating shades and hues unlike anything mortal eyes could easily accommodate, an aesthetic born of competing hopes and ambitions and intense hatreds. Whatever was going on in Keffa it was having an increasingly powerful tangibility in the Flow, a synaesthetic manifestation of Beluaterra's ideological divisions. And it was clearly building to a crescendo, causing the dark shapes trapped at the centre of the columns to thrash and writhe with ever greater intensity. Meanwhile the tension between the rotating columns was now increasingly audible as well as visible, like millstones scraping against each other or gears seizing with rust.

"Two portals cannot exist in the same segment for long without cancelling each other out," Moira's voice was tired, strained by the effort of holding the Priestess within the Flow. Somehow she had to make Kristina realise how important it was to make a decision whilst the decision was still theirs to make. Otherwise there were other forces at eagerly at work...

Spilt blood was powerful, something understood since man first killed in the dim dark recesses of ancient history. To kill. To sacrifice. To appease the Higher Powers with bloodied blade held high. The Obeah and Vorduls both worshipped mortals who'd been slain, and whilst Moira was uncertain of the Religious rites of the Heralds she'd travelled widely in the Vordul lands and seen their blood-fuelled rituals to force the apotheosis of Emperor Xlair. If they set their seal on the denizens of the fold who knew what evil might emerge?

"Do we free whatever is in there?" Moira gestured towards the fold, and as she did a sword formed in her own hand, its blade simple steel radiating a pale yellow glow, its pommel marked by a slavering wolf's head with two blazing bloody eyes, "We haven't long before the portals collapse in on eachother and the decision passes from us."

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

Emilia wipes her eyes on her forearm, shooting a scathing glance at the Grand Mistress as she walks back toward where Godfrey stands with the chalice. She pulls out a vial from her waist band with he good hand, and bites down on the stopper, yanking it out and spitting it aside.

She pours the contents of the vial into the goblet and tosses the empty vial on the ground, turning to face the others. A smug smile on her face as if she's getting away with something, she crosses her arms carefully over her chest and returns to her defiant stance along side the Prophet Greybrook, and Polli. Just as new Obian soldiers enter the square, the Blood Regent's troops along with the remaining spearmen of Siclica's unit, bolstering the Vordulian forces as well.

He forest green eyes look across at the fallen Dancer, the victorious Vahanian, and her rival in the form of the Grand Mistress, and waited.

Valian Stone Daubeny

Outside the Temple Square

Elizabeth was shocked as Viviane was pulled from her embrace and stabbed several times in the side as a man screamed for the Great Hunt.

Elizabeth pulled her own dagger and sliced at the man but he evaded her and escaped, she rushed to Viviane’s side.

“TOMASA, CARRY HER, WE MUST GET HER TO A HEALER!” Elizabeth screamed at the Captain, her voice full of sorrow and anger, why, why now, why did this always happen to those around her.

Kristina Chamberlain

The Temple

She was perplexed... almost trancelike weighing up the words and trying to process them as she felt her eyes and her mind drawn further into the maelstrom. Time stretched and she imagined herself at a looking glass, her hands able to pull herself from the other side.

The blade in Moiras hand glowed, another thing imagined but real in this extension of what could and could not be. As she stared at the glyphs of containment she heard them like a familiar song, their warmth resonated to her.

She patted down Moiras hand almost absently. "These are mine.... I think." She couldn't use her sight here, but the feeling was undeniable. "It was me, I bound the magics before the portal stones were set. I am fairly sure these glyphs are mine. I just don't feel that breaking them is the way, Moira, do you not feel the pull from this 'fold.' It is siphoning all magical energies, perhaps to break my glyphs... though I really can't imagine that they are that strong, or because something else is needed to complete the ritual.... it devours everything until it can find what it needs."

She looked at Moira, "either way I am concerned. If we disrupt the containment, the magics held within could go awry and cause no end of damage. If we leave it, it could continue to gain traction and power until it obliterates my containment... goes awry and causes no end of damage... The only genuine hope is to complete the ritual and hope that what emerges... is... well... well, is what it should be."

Duncan Blackstone

Barely Outside the Temple Square

Duncan looked around the square and saw a familiar man laying face down on the stones, “Dancer?” Duncan whispered, Duncan smashed Valian across the face with his dagger pommel and kicked him back before sprinting across the square coming to Dancer’s side.

“My lord, by the Lords what have they done to you.” Duncan took out his healing draught and gently poured some into Dancer’s mouth, he held Dancer up, angling him so that he was rest on Duncan.

Duncan slapped Dancer’s face “Come on boss, don’t give up on me yet, wake up.”

5th October

Summer Day

New Ruler Elected

The realm of Thalmarkin has elected Baelunìataisharà Blue as its new Queen.

Yao Ling Pryde

The Square

Yao Ling pulled her eyes away from column of light and looked around her on the wall.

She took in the presence of the piper and nodded, but then she looked away with a frown.

Betty had been gone too long. Too much was happening out there. Too much death. Too much blood spilled. Too much scheming and chaos.

She needed to do something. Needed to help. But the patrols had been clear. Only Obians and the Vales were allowed free movement in the square.

She'd been lucky to make it to the Daishi temple ahead of them, and though the patrols had looked at her more than once up on the wall overlooking the square, they had not sought to do anything about her.

Still, she did not have permission to just walk around out there. And that meant any attempt she made to do so would just add to the chaos. More chaos would not be good right now.

And then there were the whispers from Luto that maybe she should attempt to disrupt this. To stop this. That this would be bad for Nothoi if It arrived.

Yao Ling shook her head. There was too much magic here right now. If she attempted to disrupt this, it would hurt too many people. And even if Keffa was no longer a center of Daishi as it once had been, there were still over a thousand followers in this city right now. Their belief powered the consecrations of the temple around her, and she would not be their high priestess if she sought to sacrifice them.

She could not take the easy path the Vorduls below her had taken. She could not throw chaos and death at this problem.

The problem was that she did not yet know enough about what exactly they had sought to do here. Two portals of power. Two rings of stones, one atop another. Then throw in all the magical artifacts sacrificed or burned here. All of the magic scrolls used to further boost the free magic just flying around. The intentions of those burning them coming from all over the continent with drives, wishes, ambitions, and intrigues of their own. All of that on top of the original plan that she simply could not see through all the interference.

Yao Ling did not know what they were trying to do. And even if they told her, could she trust that to be the truth? She didn't know that either.

A spectral voice whispered her name, again, like had happened so many times since entering this city.

She wanted to scream at that voice. To tell it to shut up or say something useful. To lash out at it for distracting her. She didn't. She couldn't. That kind of outburst from her, in a city as rife with magic as this one, could do Very Bad Things if she let it. So she did not let it.

She took a deep, calming breath, and pulled another scroll from her bag. She fingered the consecrations of the temple and laid the scroll in them. Then she waited for the column of light to turn green. Everything she felt and saw told her that the green energy was best. She didn't yet know what it was best at, or what it wanted to do, but it felt better than the others. It looked better. It even sounded better. She wished she knew more. She wished she could have learned more.

But Betty wasn't back yet. And time was running out. She knew that in her bones. Things were coming to a head, and Yao Ling had to do something.

So she trusted the feelings, traced the scroll with her fingers, murmured the spell inscribed on it, and poured her intentions towards the portal.

Strength.

Order.

Calm.

The scroll glowed golden on the walls of the temple of Daishi as she finished her work...

Polli

The Square
Saoirse's Charge, Infil Attack

In a crescendo of chaos, Saoirse's chargers sped towards Polli playing the trumpet. Ill-defended after Emilia's men fell, she was little match for the cavalry crashing upon her. Lances and hoofs flew, blood and magic sprayed, and when it was over, a few versions being told, Polli lay injured amongst horses and men. Her legs contorted beyond normal alignment, bleeding and bruised. Little noticed was the unknown infiltrator who managed to survive a maelstrom of Lancers and also wound Polli the same as the Lancers.

Vordul's ritual-energy hung in the balance, teetering upon a precipice. The music of the hymns still played upon the ritual-enthused air. Polli maintained minimal consciousness in her double-wounding but her focus was slipping. Up until now, the stones of the original portal and the offered blood and symbols-in-blood had shown the brightest of any realms' ritualwork.

It was at this critical time that Godfrey's words came through, "It is your destiny to make a triumph of this day. Come, let us complete this ritual for all our sacrifices here cannot be wasted. Tell me champion, what needs to be done"

His words brought strength and hope that It would come to Vordul Sanguinis, just what was needed at the right time to maintain the ritual's integrity, if only just by a hair.

Barely able to speak, "You are doing what must be done," readjusting in pain, "continue".

And with that, Polli faded briefly into unconsciousness while the ritual-energy spun as if a coin deciding how it would fall, or if it might just balance upon it's edge. The trumpet music still drifting upon the air, Saoirse holding Emilia captive, various others had begun to arrive to survey the scene post-charge.

Timsen Quasath

Temple Dome

Kneeling on top of the temple dome, the only unguarded place Timsen could find in short notice, he remained on guard and with hope.

A voice tickled in his head. That was new. Timsen blocked out the noise from below and concentrated on the voice. It was very quiet, and insistent, and...gentle? It was encouraging to Timsen that he heard a word of birth and hope.

Timsen's hopes faded slightly as the symbols of the blood religion increased in brightness. Then his mind raced quickly. What if other blood, with different intentions, were added to the mix. No, he quickly set that aside, so much blood was flowing around the city that his would either add nothing, or add more chaos. Blood was not the way to stop blood magic.

So what would help this tiny, positive, voice in his head that whispered from the Lights? He immediately disregarded more magic. It had to be something else.

"Speak to me, friend. Say on, little voice, and tell me what you need to live well?"

Summer Evening

Emilia Delamoire

The trumpet's sound was fading, and beside her Godfrey resumed where Polli had left off. The magic was electifying, giving Emilia goosebumps up the back of her neck, and a tingling through her core.

As the forces stood in the square, facing off with one another, there was a silence.. a calm before the coming storm.

There wasn't enough energy, the thought kept creeping into her mind unwanted.

She had done everything she could, she had only recently felt the power of the Eternal Emperor and did not want to let it go. With the power of the ritual she felt true power for her first time, and she was in love.

The Emperor was her only focus, and she gave herself to the power of his blood fully.

"..not enough.." the thought crept in again.

Her forest green eyes splintered with doubt and her nostrils flared. She clung to her knife and she looked around... seeing Godfrey.

She turned, then halted, "No.. he needs to finish the ritual."

Emilia turned back to face Saoirse, Vahanian, Dancer, Antye (whomever is in the scene - apologies).

"As it has been given, it can be taken, by his word."

She raised her right hand, still swollen and blue from being broken by Saoirse' shield. With her left hand, she jammed the blade into her wrist and jerked the weapon cruelly back and forth.

"Through him I shall have power."

As the blood erupted from her wrist she let her arm hang loose and spill blood into the ritual in the Square.

Virgin blood of a true believer, Emilia's last sacrifice. She stood defiantly, staring at those others in the square for a few moments, mouthing the words,

"Through him I shall have immortality."

Emilia Delamoire collapsed, unconscious, next to Polli, Godfrey, and the Ritual circle.

Sabotage!

Bernard's guards, in Keffa, have captured Heidr Aurelle, an infiltrator working for Nova while he was sneaking around the camp of Bernard conspicuously, with a poisoned dagger under his cloak.

Alice Schwarzherzig

The Daleish Corner

Alice stood in her circle, observing the ritual. She watched Bernard play for a bit, and turned her attention to the crowd. She barely noticed Sadona, lurking among the soldiers holding a cordon around the Daleish ritual. She took comfort in the woman's presence. She cast a gaze at the chaos that was the Vordul Cultist's attempts at a ritual, and as she gazed her eye caught movement. Sadona again... No.

Alice blew the whistle around her neck. The Morgul Guard snapped into action, and the figure she had noticed charged towards Bernard, a blade in hand. He lunged, and Alice screamed at Ryosuke.

"Stay where you are! Do not break the circle!"

The Morgul Guard descended on the man with cudgels. They pulled the assailant off of Bernard and beat on him until he went limp. Shackles clamped down on his wrists and ankles, and he was hauled up, and set between Alice and Ryosuke, on his knees. An aid whispered in her and pointed at the would be assassin's family crest.

"Heidr is it?" Alice said, her voice a mix of anger and amusement. "You will very soon wish you were a better hider."

Alice glared at the man, her hand on the handle of her khopesh.

"Enjoy these moments, for very soon your world is going to be nothing but pain. You are in a world of trouble." She spoke, her voice just above a whisper.

"Take him away."

Moira

The Temple

"The portals will collapse in on themselves regardless of what we now do," Moira reiterated as she studied the glyphs, radiant hot irons juddering as if about to come unstuck from their unseen moorings. She was frustrated that the Priestess still couldn't - or wouldn't - confide in her.

Moira's own knowledge of such matters was largely academic, acquired during a long life hunting the wizards and covens secretly working to bring the Netherworld back to Beluaterra, as such she could only speculate as to what was really going on. A summoning of some kind... but who or what? And how did it tie in with the other rituals being practiced throughout the city.

6th October

Summer Day

Ruler Re-elected

The realm of Nothoi has reconfirmed Tyran Arylon Player experience level
mentor Player play preference: rp in the position of Hegemon.
The realm of Irondale has reconfirmed Ryosuke Guile Player experience level
mentor Player play preference: rp-combat in the position of Hierophant.
The realm of Nova has reconfirmed Eugenica Snodaert Player experience level
mentor Player play preference: rp-combat in the position of Pontifix Maxima.

Saoirse MacArbin

The Square

Saoirse shook some of the blood off her buckler, looking to Eriol.

"Yes, I charged. After Polli committed open blasphemies against the Veiled Goddess, conducting a ritual in front of the temple that is interfering with the 'greater issue'-" she gestured toward the original pillar "Both of which were in open defiance of the agreement to allow others inside Keffa to observe. Nothing in that allowed anyone to defy our authority, or-"

She had been focused on Eriol, but finally noticed Emilia's actions when she thumped to the ground.

"-that. So, we have two choices here. First, get Polli, and whoever that is, and whoever that is-" she pointed to the woman who had attempted to berate her earlier "out of our holy city. We will remove the remnants of this ritual, and resume our work. Or, second, things become uglier. I would rather take the first option, and focus on the greater issues, but the choice is yours."

Saoirse looked grimly at the Blood Regent, as the next few moments would determine how much more blood would be spilled in the streets.

Dancer Rea

Memories

He found himself sitting in the center of a tent on a small red rug, at complete peace within himself. Hmmm. Rarely did his dreams start off so well, and certainly not a fever dream from pain. He sat quietly, posed like a monk at meditation. Vahanian had cut his back, and he'd passed out from his head hitting the stones, so this had to be some sort of pain induced dream. Slowly, he took in his surroundings. Maps of the South, and his proper ritual sword both sat prominently, the infernal runes freshly etched into the steel. The detail of his surroundings was impeccable, if blurry in some spots. Usually a dream was less detailed, and based more in feeling. Perhaps a memory then? A very early one at that, he'd had that sword for decades now, and it had picked up it's fair share of nicks and dings. Furthermore, he most certainly hadn't been so careless with his Daemon worshipper memorabilia since he had returned to the world some years past.

Minutes passed and to him, it was as if time stood still, waiting for a specific moment. His breath fogged in the still morning air, hanging in a small could before dissipating; the surrounding rocky shelves were silent, as if they too waited. Hurried footsteps broke morning's spell, and with only one cuss infused slip, one of what he assumed to be his men flicked the flaps open with news.

"Sir! The Arbiter! He is just over the far ridge!"

The moment he'd received the news of his impending punishment, Dancer had two men to watch for the Arbiter's party. Yes, he remembered this. The cold of the morning air wafting across his skin, Dancer remained in place. His breath caught for a long moment. This was a very old memory, and a very painful one. His demeanor was as cold as a night in the dead of winter as words fell from his mouth, unbidden.

"Good. Gather the men, and wait where the Arbiter sets his post. I want you all to understand."

The man's face was confused. "Er, if I may ask Sir, understand what? We have done well, almost routing three units of enemies by ourselves and.."

"No. It is not our accomplishments we look to today but our failures. Those moments where we try to slide by the Truth, pretending our intentions are just when they are nothing more than the Lies of man." The man bowed, clearly still puzzled by his commander's words, turned heel and left.

Dancer rose from the floor, and crossed the room to his wardrobe. As he picked a simple white shirt, a bit billowy in the center, he considered. This was certainly a memory, and a strong one. He flicked past his vests and surcoats, instead sliding on a pair of plain black slacks. Different thoughts came to him, musings of the time, he supposed. He allowed the intrusion to fill his thoughts, letting the memory run it's course. His own voice came to him, whispers from the past. Had he moved to get ahead of the army, and take all of the spoils? No, certainly not. Of course, the Lies of Man are tricky, catching you when you are tired from a long day's work, or when you first wake in the morn, before you are ready to repel them. Maybe he had. Dancer sighed. The only way to know for sure was to endure one (or several, depending on the infraction) of the Tests.

Duncan Blackstone

Duncan held Dancer, Akkan below he was bleeding bad, despite the wounds though Dancer appeared almost peaceful, like he was dreaming, Duncan looked around the square, he need to get his lord out of here, he needed to move.

Duncan shook Dancer’s shoulder lightly “Come on Master, get up, I need you right now.”

Duncan saw Anyte nearby and a face he had seen before, Jheda? Duncan wanted to say, the name was hazy.

Duncan carefully picked Damcer up and held him across his shoulders, he ran over “LADY LUITOLF!” He shouted as he came to a halt, he gently lowered Dancer and knelt “Lady, Master Rea is hurt and he isn’t waking up.”

Yao Ling Pryde

Betty appeared at Yao Ling's side as if teleporting out of the shadows.

It was enough to make the priest jump, and Yao Ling gave her younger cousin a baleful look.

"You're late," Yao Ling said.

"My apologies, mistress," Betty said with an amused smile. "But I have received the permissions you sought. The city is open to you, though access to the inner sanctum of their temple is restricted."

Yao Ling considered that for a moment, and then nodded in approval. "Well done. It is time for us to make our appearance, then."

Betty blinked. "Us?"

"No good deed goes unpunished," Yao Ling said with an amused smile of her own. "Now get out of those rags, and put on that shiny armor of yours. I need a royal escort."

"Oh," Betty said. She shook her head, walked down the steps of the inner wall, and began throwing her peasant rags on the ground.

Yao Ling pulled her attention from that sight and looked back to the square dominating the center of Keffa. She did not like how much blood was on those cobble stones. It would do no one any good to get it on her robes. For a great many reasons.

So she sighed and took her priestly robes off. They were old friends, but would not help her in this city. Her light tunic and trousers would be of far more use here, and the traveling boots had seen worse things than a little blood in their time. She made certain to take her belt and necklace of office, and patted the spell pouch slung over her shoulder. It was lighter than when she'd first come into the city, but she still had many useful items in there.

Finally ready to go, she stepped away from the glowing magical scroll humming atop the walls of the temple, and made her way to the courtyard.

Betty stepped up to her, looking far different than before. The glittering armor usually reserved for the best armsmen or noblemen shone in the light of the columns, and Yao Ling nodded in approval. The wolf standing next to her was more of a surprise. Yao Ling raised an eyebrow at the animal. It met her gaze with a calm assurance and shifted closer to Betty. Guarding the younger woman. Yao Ling nodded.

"Well, I guess we're ready," Yao Ling said with a smile. She turned to make sure their shadow piper was there, smiled, and faced the gates of the temple. "Let's go."

And with that, Yao Ling stepped up to the gates. She paused for a moment to pull two icons from the inner side of the gate. The armored forms of the twin gods Daishi and Atlas rested in her hands and she nodded before pushing the gates open. Then she moved out into the square and walked through the patrols she had so recently avoided with her very faithful armsmen. Armswoman? Armswolf? And where did the piper fit in? She didn't know, but she wouldn't turn down any help at this point.

Yao Ling crossed the square with Betty and the wolf at her side, all three walking tall and proud as they approached the center of all this blood magic. The place where Grand Mistress Saoirse MacArbin of Obia'Seyla had so recently broken the blood ritual, and now faced Blood Regent Eriol Blackdagger of Vordul Sanguinis. She said nothing as she approached the confrontation. She had nothing to add to it at this point. The Vorduls wouldn't listen to her. And the Grand Mistress didn't need the distraction.

So Yao Ling simply stopped nearby, accompanied by what appeared to be a rich knight in shining armor, and a very calm wolf that went to work licking the blood off the cobblestones around it.


The Square

Yao Ling frowned at the confrontation before her and saw a line of ravens flying across the square. She followed their progress towards the western side of the Obian Temple. She looked down to see the wolf looking back at her. Then it turned towards the temple as well.

Yao Ling nodded.

"This is not where we should be," she whispered to Betty. "Let us go."

Then she turned away from the Grand Mistress and her opponent to go find out what awaited her in the temple.

Timsen Quasath

Temple Dome

Kneeling on the marble roof of the Temple was tough on older knees, so Timsen had settled into more of a sitdown. He continued his whispered, one-sided, conversation with the voice that had briefly spoken. Timsen was trying to coax it to speak again using soft words, poems, lullabies, questions, and simple songs. Nothing new had tickled the back of his mind, no words or feelings. He struggled in his disappointment, and thought again if it was the magic that had elicited the response from what he assumed was the green Lights. Regardless, he affirmed with himself that he would not cast more magic. One does not add more water to a kettle boiling over. So, if not magic and if not words, then what?

Timsen thought again of the word spoken/felt to him, 'spring'. Initially he had interpreted that as the season, of renewal and hope and new things to come. Musing, Timsen thought about the word, and how it could also imply action. To spring, to leap forth, to uncoil. Leaning forward, Timsen could easily envision the results of taking that sort of action here, and the hard stop at the end. Hmm, if the voice was calling for wilful human sacrifice, that would be opposite of hope and life as Timsen saw it. Better not continue that line of thinking.

Spring. Hmm, it could also imply water, an upwelling of the basics of life with sweet and cool drinking water. A spring. Timsen drew out the analogy further. It could be a spring, or fountain, of hope! That is an interpretation he could support. So, how to tap into a spring? One needs to find the right spot and dig. Well, this was certainly the spot. Maybe not the precise spot, but the Lights were probably, generally, close enough. So, to dig.

Timsen adjusted his seating position again and folded his legs into a very rough meditative stance. Not having much practice with it, Timsen was soon uncomfortable, but pushed the discomfort away and focused on digging. Digging down into the earth using his willpower, his spirit and his stubbornness. Digging and opening a channel for the wellspring of hope to emerge.

Eriol Blackdagger

The Square

Eriol nodded, then pursed his lips. “So, because she said something, that gave you right to engage in violence? Interesting.”

Pointing to Emilia, and commanding, “With me” one of the Regnal contingent picked up Emilia and slung the unconscious girl over his shoulder.

“I will take her with me, to see that there is no more trouble”. Eriol bowed deeply and began walking towards the Temple. “ As Eriol walks towards the Temple, he shouts back, without turning around, “I will also find this Polli, as well.”

As the Blood Regent walked he suddenly stopped and pointed downwards, but said nothing. His guard laid Emilia on the ground. Eriol’s heart began to race, as he could feel energies that he had only heard about in stories, either from his uncle, or the Wizard Craglan bandying on about ice or some other such nonsense. However, this was certainly not nonsense. As he was surveying the strange occurrences, he saw a striking sight. Yao Ling, a wolf, and a rather impressive looking knight.

Looking to the wolf, the Blood Regent chuckled, “You shouldn’t drink that... Emperor only knows who that belonged to...”

Summer Evening

Yao Ling Pryde

Yao Ling entered the Obian Temple, via the western gate as the birds guided.

A family of mice awaited her inside, and began running down a set of stairs as soon as they had her attention.

Yao Ling shrugged towards Betty and followed them down to the lowest parts of the temple.

She frowned as she felt the presence of a friend ahead. Once a friend. A friend in the future? Someone she knew, or would know. Had known. Tenses were confusing when magic went crazy.

And the magic ahead of her was very crazy right now.

Yao Ling, Betty, and the wolf followed the mice all the way down, and into a chamber filled with magic. Yao Ling scanned it and found the portal stones burning with magical power.

Then her eyes found the friend she had come all this way to see again. Lying in a laundry basket in pieces. And splattered all over the walls. And pulped into the floor. She recognized the bits of the clothing that remained. She would never see Gustav Kuriga again. She fingered the cowled figure of Daishi in her left hand and accepted that fact, even as her mind tried to imagine how this could have happened. He had been so certain in his path. So decided on what he would do. Perhaps that is what killed him.

Yao Ling scanned on to see another friend. They had not met before. Or perhaps they had. She appeared familiar, though Yao Ling did not know her. Perhaps a family member. A total stranger stood next to the friend that could be, and both were frozen in the light of the portal column. Both of their souls were trapped in the column of light. They were what she had seen from outside. And now she could see with her own eyes how much they were risking.

"Halt!" a soldier shouted from the side and a sword came out. "You are not authorized to be here!" the man shouted and aimed the sword at her.

"The Grand Mistress sent me," Yao Ling said in a calming tone, perhaps bending the truth just a little bit. If this was the sanctum...

"Though I do not know precisely WHERE here is," she added with her most disarming smile. Then she nodded towards the two women. "I have come to help them."

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

"You are wrong Moira," she said the words with more certainty than she felt, but with the saying came resolve.

"The veil is the magical barrier between our world and the daimons... magic transcends the veil being from both sides as it were. I know you know this but you need to understand what I can see if you are to help me."

She stepped behind Moira. "This may be uncomfortable, but trust me..." she placed her hands over the other womans eyes and with an effort of will that made her feel that her brain might literally be pulled through her own eyes she engaged her sight. Resisting the urge to cover her eyes or look away.

"Now look," she felt the womans tentative eyelashes slip over her palms.

With her sight, the cage she had created for the magics looked fine and fragile indeed, the glyphs melting to silvery threads from which the magics, primal, blood and others bulged and bowed trying to escape. The colours changed and coalesced as different things tried to master all the magics, trying to coalesce to tear through and enter the world. All magics were being absorbed as the failed spells slunk like oil into the gaps in her net, becoming one with the larger maelstrom. Forms human and other were within a breath and a song of coalescing into something recognisable and Kristina held her breath and resolve that one of them could be an emissary of Obeah herself.

Even though Moira had calmed the violent flow, with her sight engaged Kristina felt the roar of the magics like waves against her pained consciousness and compensated raising her voice to be heard.

"THE RITUAL IS INCOMPLETE.... THEY ABSORB EVERYTHING THROWN BUT IT WILL TAKE THE RIGHT MAGICS TO BRING BALANCE THAT THE RIGHT CONSTRUCT MIGHT COME OVER!" she closed her eyes, unable to maintain the sight any longer.

As she opened her eyes, it was quiet and bright again. Almost winded despite an etheral form she felt her mortal self take deep rasping breaths. "We can't deconstruct my glyphs until we can control at least the nature of what is to come.... as you see the column is more of a conduit than a portal and I do wonder if what emerges may be from the portal you have set..." she smiled ruefully at Moira. "You understand the flow, can you help us to understand how to bring the ritual to the right conclusion?"

Yao Ling Pryde

Yao Ling held up a letter with a seal on it for the soldier to see. "Priestess Chamberlain told me to show you this to gain access. She can verify if you don't trust the seal."

Nyx Harte

Lady Nyx sharpened her black blades and eyed her target, trailing his royal robes from a distance. The city was crawling with troops. Either she had to be absolutely precise or wait for a better opportunity when he made his way back home.

She skipped behind him with glee, excited to see a blood gush from his head.

Nearby Arrest!

Within Keffa, Selur was arrested by Alice Schwarzherzig, Keeper of Law of Irondale, Ambassador of Irondale, Duchess of Carn Dum, Marshal of the Velvet Glove.
Within Keffa, Xenith was arrested by Alice Schwarzherzig, Keeper of Law of Irondale, Ambassador of Irondale, Duchess of Carn Dum, Marshal of the Velvet Glove.

Dark Dreams

You are walking alone across a charred field, dotted with burnt trees, under a dark gray sky. Ash begins to fall.

You awaken with a fright, realizing it was but a dream. But the deep feeling of gloom and depression does not depart, plaguing you emotionally.

Moira

Temple

"Hmm..." Moira rubbed her chin again, sucking at her teeth as she pondered the puzzle facing them. So the fold was being used as a cistern, to fill with magical energy and then channel that energy into a portal with the intention of breaching this veil the Heralds were so concerned with. It still wasn't entirely clear to her quite how they'd cobbled together the pieces to make this possible given their rather patchy knowledge of the Higher Realms but she couldn't help but feel a certain admiration.

Think Moira. Think. You have all the pieces to figure this out. She turned each fact in her mind: the fold; the cage; the veil; the pillars; the ritual; the temple; the spilt blood; the maelstrom; the gathering armies; the five sacrificants.

"We need a conduit for the excess power," Moira turned her attention back to the pillars of grinding, frozen light, "only by bleeding that from the fold faster than its being generated can we prevent the containment from failing."

It was a plan. A good plan? Maybe. Maybe not. At least it would buy them time. Otherwise that cage could fail at any moment with catastrophic consequences.

"Is that possible?" the Priestess looked doubtful.

"In theory, yes. We'll need the help of someone in the material world. Preferably with at least a little knowledge of magic otherwise this much power could be..."

"I understand," the implications were clear to them both. Magic was not a child's toy, no matter that Kings and Princes might wish it so. The last time powers had been wielded on this scale the fortress city of Wudenkin had been levelled.

"Good. Let's quickly find some willing help," Moira grasped Kristina's hand again and before their eyes could blink they were once more standing in the ritual chamber.

Timsen Quasath

Temple Dome

Meditating on the roof, spiritually digging down into the earth and into the magic, Timsen soon realized he had dug a metaphorical hole he couldn't easily get out of without help.

He had closed his eyes in the first few minutes of meditation, as it had felt easier and created less distractions. Within his mind's eye he incrementally began to feel the energies around him, then ignored those too and begun his digging. Diving into the earth searching for the wellspring of hope, searching for a hidden reservoir that he could tap and let forth the natural energies of the world. Perhaps even to encourage and ease the birth of something good into this world.

Hours past, and Timsen knew he was locked into this delve. He could feel the spiritual walls around him, pressing close...and warm...like a blanket or womb. He also knew there were others close by working their own formulas, some of them with great power and knowledge. Timsen felt the presence of Yao Ling, his ally in humanity and leader of his faith, and tried to offer her a brief spurt of hope as well. He focused his will, imagined a concentrated pea-nugget of hope, and spiritually puffed it at her like a child with a spitball. Crude, but hopefully effective. Anything he could to help.

Then Timsen settled back into to digging further down. Going to the core. Going to settle the foundation.

Dancer Rea

Memories

Rising, he moved to the entrance of his tent and stood just inside. Stretching a few times, he savored the feeling of having full use of his back, even if it was just a memory; he wouldn't have a chance to enjoy the feeling for long. It wasn't much of a wait before the Arbiter's men came, the clank of their armor announcing their arrival several seconds before they reached his tent. Dancer slid between the tent flaps, just as the 'escort' crested the hill he had ordered camp on. Yes, he remembered this too. An old friend stood in the center of the escort, the crystal clarity of the memory shedding the years away. By Akkan, they were both so young. The years had not been kind, and Dancer couldn't help but think of how life had turned out for them both. The man shouldered his way through the armored guard, a sick grin plastered on his face.

"Sir Dancer, you are to come with us." a short rope uncoiled from his hand, "If you want to or not."

Dancer couldn't help himself. A corner of his mouth turned upward. He wasn't sure if his glee was from the memory, or just from seeing one of his Brothers, still standing young and strong.

"Why, Erasmus, of course I will come. The Arbiter is not someone to be taken lightly."

As if lead by a spell, Dancer allowed the escort to surround him, and they began to march to down the hill. Not that he had any choice, the memory would continue whether he liked it or not.

They reached the Arbiter's camp quickly, and the escorting soldiers broke off to join the throng growing around the central clearing. At the time, he had felt nothing, but watching it happen again, Dancer felt a little sick. What a young fool he'd been, willingly marching to his own maiming with a smile. Not that he had known what would happen, traditionally a test such as this would never have been so brutal. Erasmus led him to the center of the clearing, near a post of wood sticking from the ground. Tore from what was left of the throne of Caelum, the post had been carried with the Judge of Dominorum for occasions such as this for years by this point. Idly, Dancer wondered what became of it after the war. Hopefully it had been burned.

Arbiter Usul Soul stood waiting, feet slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back. He was in full military judicial dress, sword sheathed at his side, shoulders adorned with his markers of office. Anger danced in his eyes, a fire that had drove his every waking moment, anger at those that harbored Lies in their hearts.

Usul.

Dancer stared at the man, soaking in every second of this part of the dream. Usul had been his closest friend and ally. They'd built cities together, and burned others to the ground. Dancer had no doubt the stones of Ete City still bared the marks of their works, even if heathens had taken it over in the intervening years. Guilt washed over him in a wave. He should have been there, should have saved him. Maybe Usul would still be alive today if Dancer hadn't taken the cowards way out. Maybe more of his Brothers would be here today if he had just been there.

Silence fell, hundreds of soldiers waiting for the Arbiter to speak.

"Sir Dancer!" Usul announced into the silence. His voice filled the area, "I personally accuse you of disobeying orders, moving ahead of the army in favor of personal glory and gain. Greed is an attribute of the Liars of Men!"

His voice rose to a crescendo, the power of their shared faith echoing in every word. "You are to be tested!"

The men broke into cheers, pumping their fists into the air. Dancer allowed it to wash over him, preparing himself for what was coming. While it was only a memory, the clarity of it would make the next part a challenge. Erasmus took his shoulder, and steered him to the post. It wasn't a very old piece of wood, but it had seen much use under the Portal worshipers' care. Binding Dancer to the darkened wood, Erasmus tightened the rope down as far as it would go, before savagely ripping Dancer's shirt down the back. As the rope began to cut into Dancer's wrists, blood oozing slowly around the bindings, Erasmus began.

"Anything to say!?" Erasmus bellowed. The men echoed him, jeering. Most of the men anyway. Dancer's men, intermingled within the crowd, watched quietly amongst the revelers.

Crack!

Pain. In lesser men, it lances through them, hot and angry. It blurs their conscience, mudding their thoughts and reverting them back to their primal instincts. For Dancer, pain was so much more. His mind, once so full of the Lies of Man, had been cleansed through pain. Now, pain brought him into focus, cold and sharp. Dancer smiled, enjoying the clarity of the moment. He'd enjoyed it then, and he enjoyed it now, both his feelings from his memory, and his feelings of watching it again combining as one.

Crack!

Had he acted in Truth? Or had the Lies gotten to him? Only the pain would tell.

Crack!

Dancer could feel it! He had acted in Truth! The pain began to fade, proving he had not acted with Lies in his heart, proving he was worthy. Both the memory Dancer, and the watching Dancer nearly laughed out loud at the revelation. He'd forgotten how simple everything used to be, how clear the way forward could feel.

Crack!...Crack!

The final lash hurt no more than a bee sting. Erasmus approached, freeing him from the post. Confusion clouded the memory, and the world grew fuzzy. This was wrong. Dancer felt himself both being freed, and being lashed farther. This wasn't what had happened. Dancer stood, his back oozing blood all over the dirt, coalescing into little balls of orange mud. Something...something was wrong. He'd been lashed over two hundred times for this mistake, not a mere five. His vision tilted, the two versions of the memory both playing across his dream at once. One, where he was released, joyful and clean of Lies, and the other, still bound to that damnable post. The ground tilted, and darkness swallowed the scene. His stomach turned, and he felt wind in his hair, and blood lifting off his back as he fell through the darkness.

Yao Ling Pryde

Yao Ling felt something different in the magic wash over her from above. There was so much death and conflict and division in the city right now that it seemed she had been alone in trying to push it.

Now she felt another and smiled at the feeling of hope on that wind of magic.

Yao Ling held the twin icons of Daishi and Atlas in each hand as she sought to magnify that projection.

To use some of the stray energy flying around this place to expand that projection of hope beyond this temple complex.

She hoped it would help.

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile at the irony of that thought.

Dancer Rea

Memories

All went silent, as fast as it had started. He found himself standing in the darkness, but not alone. Two dragons grappled in front of him, each twisted tightly around the other. One was blood red, and the other a deep midnight black; he wouldn't have been able to see the black one at all, if it wasn't for the fact they were locked together. The mass of scales and claws shifted, and a single shining eye looked to him, just for a moment. Another shift, and a black snout poked out. Before Dancer could react, the mouth opened, and white fire enveloped him head to toe.......

Suddenly, everything snapped back into focus. Usul and Erasmus stood just as he'd last seen them, the men all around still cheering and whooping happily at the revelation of his cleanliness. Turning to Usul, Dancer straightened out completely, his mind racing. Only five lashes.... Everything had returned to focus, and clarity. Did that mean this was the real memory? And what of the Dragons? The memory continued, unbidden.

Usul had a small smile playing about his face as he called out loud enough to be heard over the racket, "Sir Dancer! You know Truth. You bare no Lies. You have passed the test." The Arbiter turned to look out across the assembly, "I, Usul Soul, Arbiter of Dominorum, Servant of the Portal, hereby retract my accusations of Lies committed by a one Sir Dancer. Praise him, for he hath been proved as a true Brother of the Portal!"

The dream waivered for a moment, and he found himself standing in front of his men, the sun shining high in the sky. He was cleaned, and dressed in fresh clothes, strutting around like the brash young man he had been years ago. His men were in lines, on a flat area a short distance away from their camp. What had happened? He didn't remember this at all. Where was the weeks of healing? The screaming and the blood?

"Men, Today you witnessed something important. You saw me, a man of noble birth, tested for Lies. I passed the test, but that's not important. What's important is that you ask yourselves a question, everyday, no, every second of your life."

Dancer's voice quieted, "Would you have passed?"

A pause, to watch the mens' reaction. Some smiled, others looked away.

He'd been at the healer's tents for weeks, without painkillers, not commanding his men mere hours later. What was this?

He let his voice grow commanding again, capitalizing on the mens' unease. "Are you strong enough to resist the Lies? Are you strong enough to show others the Truth?!" Dancer took a step forward, making eye contact with one of the uncomfortable men in the front row. "There are Lies here, and I will not stand for them."

Dancer shot forward at the unfortunate man, grasping the front of his chainmail. "I think it high time all of you saw the Truth, in it's full glory."

If this was the real memory......

Dancer drug the man forward, out in front, so all could see. Casually tossing the man to the ground, Dancer uncoiled a short leather whip, with several tails. "I spoke to Erasmus, and had him find me a suitable tool for this process." The ends glittered, tipped with metal barbs.

"I think this will be cleansing for everyone."

As he flicked the whip, the sun caught on the barbs, and everything stilled. The sun filled his vision, and he found himself floating up, and up, and up...

Dancer Rea

The Square

Like rising from the bottom of a pond, Dancer woke. He gasped in pain, blinking in the lights off of the pillars trying to get his bearings. His blood traced back, mingling with the rest of the carnage in the center of the square. He hoped it hadn't mingled with the ritual, the magic was already unbalanced enough as it was. Anyte stood over him, Duncan and Jheda as well. For some reason Duncan had Dancer's head in his lap? Idiot child, he'd told him to stay in the shadows. With a shaking hand, Dancer reached back, and touched the thick pad of scar tissue on his back. It was there, just as it had always been, even if it was a little slick with blood right now.

If he hadn't gotten his scars from that day, where had he gotten them?

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

The feelings of vertigo as she resumed her normality were brief but strong. Standing again before the column she felt heavier with the fatigue of their efforts. It was amazing how dull the world seemed when one had been within the flow, she imagined it may well have been quite addictive to.those who could transcend the physical world independently. Moira too looked tired but resolute.

"Thank-" as she was reorientation she felt a presence, like a cuckoo in her nest. Turning her head left and right, she spied the woman who had beem accosted by the Temple guards. That she was the Lady of the Daishi, was jarring to her, but as a figure from her past, she remembered the woman as wise and powerful. She turned back to Moira. "You see, you have asked and Obeah has provided."

"Lady Pryde, as I live and breathe! It has been far, far too long."

7th October

Summer Day

Monthly Grant Received

Your rank of Musketeer in "Daishi" is due for a monthly grant of 2 gold. Your balance with this religion has been adjusted accordingly. Your balance is now 889 gold.

Avice

The Square
Nova

Playing novan hymns upon her pipe, Avice entered the square at the head of a parade of every animal from between here and Eylmom. Reaching an unoccupied quarter, the animals first circled her, and then began assembling themselves in an animal-pyramid around her, with elephants, hippos, and rhinoceroses forming the base.

Yao Ling Pryde

Temple

"Lady Pryde, as I live and breathe!" one of the frozen women said.

Yao Ling's attention shifted from the guard to them. Both were moving normally again, if stiff from what must have been a long... meditation? Stasis?

"It has been far, far too long," the woman continued.

Yao Ling studied her more closely. There was a resemblance. An echo. Hadrian. Of course. It HAD been far, far too long since they had seen each other. The girl had grown. Changed. Gone on and lived a life in a new land and made a name for herself.

Yao Ling remembered when she had done that. Followed the path to glory and honor and greatness. That had been a very long time ago, though, and she had not changed in a very long time. She was now as she was the last time she saw this girl. Easy to recognize. Hard for her to remember everyone who would. Especially when they kept having the audacity to grow up and become different people between times of meeting.

"Kristina," Yao Ling said with a bow of her head. "It has truly been far too long."

Then she placed a hand on Betty's well-armored shoulder. "This is Betty. My... handmaiden. And guard. And... whatever else I need at the time."

Yao Ling smiled and placed a hand on the wolf standing between them. "I don't know his name. He just showed up and decided to follow us. Or lead us. Maybe guard us. It's difficult to tell sometimes," Yao Ling finished with a shrug.

Then she turned with a searching gaze and frowned. "And there should be another following us, assuming he hasn't lost our path. He called himself a piper, though I'm not entirely certain what that means."

Yao Ling sighed and turned back towards the portal. "I suspect our reasons for being here are different, but I believe we are all here to help you. And we bring gifts," Yao Ling finished with a smile.

Bernard

Daleish Corner

"I recommend we set up here for now and assist the piper," Alice advised.

To which Bernard replied, "I'm no mere piper. I play the bagpipes."

With Alice eagerly conducting rituals, Bernard inquired if this or killing others was what was desired, but seeing she was set on continuing, began playing Irondale hymns upon the bagpipes. He was uncertain how this spotaneous ritualwork would go, such things being quite unpredictable. The abundance of artifacts certainly lent an expectation of success. Shared sentiments of unity helped further.

A lively jig soon followed, around the following chorus:

If you want to have a good time, join the Gardeners!
Join the Gardeners! Join the Gardeners!
If you want to catch the greenthumb, if you want to have fun, if you want to smell sweet flowers, join the Gardeners!
Green thumbs, hey! Green thumbs, ho!

Esdalot

The Square
Thalmarkin

Esdalot arrives alone, fiddling a thalkin tune some recognize as the Ballad of Enzo Solari.

Juggling what appears to be potatoes, a host of northern humanity next enters the square, finds an unoccupied area, and assembles what soon appears to be an oven or an altar, revealing the juggled potatoes as hot rocks.

They are followed by more northerners, and beasts of burden, carrying meats of every animal imaginable between here and Unger. More arrive, carrying firewood. Some meats are laid on top while a fire is built within a niche underneath.

Ceasing the fiddleplay, Esdalot begins to grill the meat, occasionally burning some arcane symbol into each piece of meat.

Maurice

Without any instruction or counsel from any realmmates, Maurice prepares to take his own initiative in serving Ar Agyr.

Luto

The Square
Nothoi

The slow, steady pounding of a drum echoes throughout Keffa. Increasing in sound, it's evidently approaching the square, but from what direction is uncertain. The ground trembles and it's accepted it's not a single drum, but a multitude. Most turn to the shared-columns of light, expecting a development.

Exiting a street onto the square, Luto is beating a drum as he enters the square along with his host of humanity and animals from their trek originating in Dyomoque. Playing a Nothoian spiritual, all animals and humans are stomping in time with the drums. The more astute observer realizes they are dancing in the pattern of arcane symbols.

Duncan Blackstone

Duncan smiled as Dancer regained consciousness as he reached to rub his back.

“Welcome back Master Rea, are you able to stand? we need to get out of here.”

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

Emilia awoke, leaning up against a hard wall and feeling faint. There was a healer near by, her left broken hand and slit wrist were bandaged, and her whole body ached.

She tried moving, but was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea as she did so, and collapsed back against the wall.

Looking around, she noted that the Blood Regent himself was near, but she couldn't spot the others. She didn't know what was happening in the Square with the Ritual she had put everything into.

"Get me quills and ink, I need messengers." Emilia ordered the Healer, who reluctantly left to find just that.

Emilia would be of no further use to the Ritual, and had put forth every ounce of what she had to give, and now it was in the hands of the Eternal Emperor.

Hopefully, they had given him enough, hopefully he had recognized her contributions.

As the healer returned, she began to unfurl the blank scrolls and writing letters and having them delivered via loyal Vordulian messengers.

Genesis Mcloud

The Square
Nova

Genesis watches as Avice leads the animals, still unsure of how such a thing is possible. Then again, after all she has seen happening over the past few days, she does not know what she can be sure about. Once she thought magic, monsters, undead and the like, all to be tall tales told by uneducated peasants. Now she has seen all of that and more, her sense of self confidence has been dented and damaged as a result.

As a wolf passes by her, following along with the caravan of fur and claws, Genesis reaches out and places a hand on its back, following down its spine and over the tail as it continues to march.

"Avice, I don't know how you have accomplished this, but from the moment I heard your pipe, and saw the animals follow I knew that there was something about you. I knew I had to follow. Now that we have reached our destination, I know I have to see you complete what you mean to accomplish. You have my sword and my protection."

Genesis, strengthened in her resolve, takes her place near Avice, and the circle of animals. She will do whatever is needed to see this done. She has set her mind to it, and once she has done that, nothing can stop her.

Timsen Quasath

Temple Dome

Unexpectedly, a surge of positive energy washed back over Timsen and renewed his spirit. The spark of hope he had spat out had returned, partially, and amplified by something else. Timsen tucked that bit of hope back into himself, like a child hiding a piece of candy for later. Smiling a little, Timsen re-focused on digging spiritually into the earth and easing the passage of whatever was coming.

Elshon Geg

The Square - Thal

Elshon appears next to Esdalot, cloaked in a black robe embroidered with fine silvery threads forming patterns which are difficult to make out from any distance. He unslings a bloodied sack from his shoulder, the contents of which have soaked through the back of the robes, and begins to hand Esdalot chunks of meat from it for the makeshift grill. "We offer this meat for MODROK, so that he may be sated and so spare us another day to complete our rituals!" Whatever IT was, they'd either welcome it or it would make for another grand sacrifice to appease the horrible elder god.

Summer Evening

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

She fought back the fatigue, unwilling to show weakness to either woman, as each was deadly in her own way. "I don't know if you will have met, this is Moira Dubh- of Ar Agyr. She offers excellent insight into energy flows, something I have to admit I have seen and admired but never truly understood." She turned to Moira, "I am sure you know of Lady Pryde, by repute if naught else."

The wolf was eyeing her quizzically, then padded to the chamber edge and began licking in earnest at something she truly hoped was not a part of Gustav Kuriga, but strongly suspected it was so.

She had stood in silence, smile fixed for several seconds as her mind whirled through options of how to approach the situation she faced while retaining the appearance of control. Then swiftly abandoned such artifice.

She looked at Yao Ling, holding her gaze. "I could tell you a tale Lady Pryde, spin a line on how we have created this pathway beyond the veil, but you are no fool, and a liar is more a fool to herself. I too am no fool."

She took a breath, "The column... and I call it so deliberately, for it is not a portal, it has moved far beyond such simplicity," she looked to Moira who gently nodded her head in agreement. "It is a construct made up of trapped scroll and ritual magics as well as portal magics. It has become a conduit, pulling all magics cast in the area to its core. The ritual was a summoning, to call forth an atch magus that we may better learn the ways of Obeah, but examination shows that the ritual is incomplete. Within the web of magics there is a flux of changing states awaiting something... perhaps the final piece of the ritual to be cast to allow one form to arise ascendant and come to our call.... but as it waits and absorbs all that is beong hurled there is a danger that the net will fail and who knows what may happen."

"We need to keep control of this situation, to do that we must understand something completely new... well as far as I know... You are probably one of the more experienced people on the island with both magic and portals...I would know your thoughts..."

Vahanian Blint

Vahanian was surrounded by his soldiers, all bristling in anger and ready for a fight. However, none of his personal guard would dare defy the Grand Templar's orders. Not only were they trained not to do that, they had just witnessed him fight in single combat. None were willing to risk his ire.

His battle healer bandaged and treated his wounds. None were serious enough to be debilitating, but that didn't mean they were painless. He grabbed a damp towel from a servant and wiped his face. After his wounds had been tended and he felt as fresh as he was going to until this..event.. was over with. He began walking back towards the middle of the square, and Saoirse. As he walked across the square, he became more aware of the buzz of the people gathered. From within the crowd he heard a familiar voice cry out "Uncle!". His head whipped around looking for the source. He scanned the crowd frantically, searching, it was impossible, yet he was sure he'd heard her voice..

Yao Ling Pryde

Temple

Yao Ling glanced up at the column, studying it with all of her senses. This truly was an amazing work of magical construction, combining two sets of portal stones, and gods only knew how many scrolls and other rituals. It was possibly the most amazing she had ever been this close to. And something very few had ever contemplated. Most who had thought to bring something over from out there were calling Daimons.

But she could tell that Kristina was telling her the truth here. They were not calling Daimons. That didn't mean that Daimons wouldn't be coming through, but at least the intent was there. And in magic, intent was extremely important.

"Who initiated the ritual?" Yao Ling asked Kristina. "You are her? Did you find or develop the ritual? And was it completed to the best of your knowledge, or did you leave steps out of it?"

Open Dreams

You are walking alone across an open field under a blue sky, without a tree or building in sight.

Awakening well-rested and feeling hopeful for a brighter future, you conduct the day's business with a spring in your step.

Phelan Dragonborn

The square

Phelan had found shelter in a barn belonging to a sweet couple just outside town. The battles and constant plotting made his head hurt.

Something else was plaguing him now, however, these dreams! One night dark and foreboding the next night bright and hopeful. He didn't know what to make of them. His emperor was busy with keeping the peace as much as possible, the only other person he knew well and trusted was back in the Vales. A thought occurred to him, what of the beautiful woman; Yao Ling, would she be able to tell him what they meant?

Phelan spruced up his well worn clothes and gathered his pack. Someone might have need of the things he had collected. He headed for the square and the temple where he had last seen the beautiful Yao Ling.

As he neared the square, a wonderous black wolf approached him. It was not menacing as the wolves he encountered in the wild were. This one looked intelligent and kind, it seemed to want Phelan to follow him.

Soon he was standing outside a different temple, watching Yao Ling with another priestess, from the Heralds perhaps?

He waited patiently to speak to them not willing to interrupt, he was just a common man after all.

Moira

Temple

Moira bowed respectfully to the High Shugenja, "I am Moira your grace, a Musketeer. No other name or honour matters," She stood slightly to one side, supporting Kristina here and there with a slight nod of the head as the Priestess of Obeah explained the situation. She was impressed at the younger woman's ability to grasp the essential details given how quickly they'd been explained.

As a member of the Daishi order Moira knew the High Shugenja by reputation but aside from the occasional pleasantry during her promotion through the ranks she doubted she'd ever figured in Lady Yao Ling's thoughts. To live the life of a rootless adventurer was to be largely invisible to the ruling classes, serving in the shadows where the ambitions and moral ambiguities of court life had little bearing. Moira's younger self - the brash commander who'd forced her way to the front of Fontanese life at a time when that realm was the mightiest power the world would ever know - would have sneered at the life she now lived. Well, perhaps not sneered, but certainly she'd have considered it a poor use of talent.

Close to twelve Gregorian Years had passed since she'd first pitched up at the gates of Krimml, caparisoned in her then trademark black plate armour with five stalwart armsmen and a hunger for life: liberty; democracy; honour; duty; justice. Her mind had raced with new ideas, and oh how her quill had danced, the blade of a master eviscerating her intellectual foes with the same effortless devastation for which her long-hafted ax soon became famed. Sadly Fontan had proven a poor mistress during their long love affair, her rulers ever willing to prostitute their virtue for dreams of conquest. Fontan had been her one true love - even more so than dear Aeneas with whom she'd shared a night of passion, a single moment of tenderness in a long life of conflict - and when it broke her heart she knew no consolation...

Still, the truth was this life suited her, free to travel where she pleased and to deliver that uncommon justice which no Queen nor Supreme Justice was at liberty to mete for all the armies at their command. And here in Beluaterra she'd finally found a cause with no ambiguities. The defence of humanity.

"The Priestess speaks truly your grace," Moira picked up where Kristina finished, "this ritual the Obeah have embarked upon marries knowledge from several distinct traditions, the like of which have never been combined before. In essence they've created a cistern for holding magical energies with which to direct a portal according to their will, but the cistern has a finite capacity which is now being exceeded thanks to all the magic unleashed here in Keffa. And to compound the problem this magic is strongly tainted with Vordul rituals, a none to wholesome addition. If the cistern fails and all this energy pours into the fabric of the Higher Dimensions it could have devastating consequences."

She paused for a moment to allow Lady Pryde to fully digest her words.

"I set the second portal ring which was intended to prevent the portal here from opening, a trick I learned during the last Invasion, but I did not realise that the portal was being used for a very different purpose and not as a gateway to access the Netherworld. As a consequence we now have two portal beacons, for want of a better term, which are attempting to counteract each other but cannot because of the energy now contained in the cistern. And all the time more energy is being sucked into the cistern from Keffa. If we can divert that energy flow back here into the mortal realm we may be able to bring the situation back under control and allow the ritual to be concluded safely but to do that we need someone with the resolve and experience to channel so much power to a good purpose."

The implication was obvious: they needed Yao Ling's help or the destruction of Keffa might be the least of their worries.

Yao Ling Pryde

Temple

Yao Ling listened to the explanation with care. It was interesting and each step made sense.

But she thought Moira was wrong in her final point.

"There is a common refrain I've heard since before I entered this city," she said, her eyes glancing back and forth between Kristina and Moira to gauge their reactions. "It is coming. Rituals can welcome it. Or we can kill those performing the rituals. But it will take multiple people to complete them."

Yao Ling spread her arms out as if that made things clear. "Not one of us can do this. We all bring different knowledge and experience. Only together can we do this. And I posit that we need more than just us."

Timsen Quasath

Temple Dome

As dawn broke over the temple roof, Timsen felt both the warmth of the sun on his face and the inner warmth and comfort from the dream of hope. The dream had merged with his trance-state, morphing his mental digging metaphor into the open field. Timsen felt calm and rested, even as his physical body endured a second day of no water or food. With a renewed spirit on a new day, Timsen concentrated again on his efforts to ease the energies in the city and soothe the coming of something good.

8th October

Summer Day

Alice Schwarzherzig

The Daleish Corner

Alice conferred with a guard, and spoke.

"Bring the prisoners." She commanded. Her guards brought a single man, Selur, before Bernard and forced him to his knees. The man bore signs of having been tortured, and a device kept his mouth open.

"Where is the second?" Alice demanded.

"Y-y-your Grace... H-h-he escaped." The man stammered.

Alice nodded, and the Morgul Guard stepped forward, and shoved the man to the ground. He was shackled, and a similar device place around his face to keep his mouth open.

Alice looked at Bernard.

"I commend these damned souls to you and the song. Let their lives fuel our ritual." Alice spoke.

She turned to Selur and the guard.

"You have comitted crimes against the Arcane Republic of Irondale, and I sentence you both to die. Know that though your lives are forfeit, they serve a higher purpose. In death may you achieve redemption."

A crucible was wheeled out, full of molten iron. Funnels were placed in the condemned's mouths, and one by one, molten iron poured down the prisoners throats. The men half gurgled, half screamed, briefly, then shuddered, and fell limp. The adventurer Selur was dead, and so was the guard who allowed the adventurer Xenith to escape.

"Bury the bodies. They have paid for their crimes." Alice spoke, looking at the men, their vacant eyes wide open in a mixture of terror and agony.

Betty

Temple

The wolf padded over to Betty, licking his lips satisfactorily. He stopped to look up at her and waited until she pulled her attention from the others in the room.

Then the wolf turned and walked out of the room. He stopped at the entrance and looked at her.

Betty shrugged and followed the wolf out, up the stairs, and to the western gate they had used to enter the temple in the first place.

By the time she reached the gate, the wolf was nuzzling up against a black wolf of similar size.

Well, now she knew why the wolf had come up here. Though why it had asked her to follow made no sense.

Then she saw the man standing beyond the two wolves and smiled. Now she understood that as well.

"You!" she said to Phelan. "I see you found us. Would you like to come in?"

Rosko Nabarl

The Square

Rosko moved his infantry to surround Esdalot and his fire in their corner of the square. “We’ll not let anyone through that we don’t know” he says as he hands across some papers.

Eriol Blackdagger

The Temple

As the Blood Regent looks on at the various comings and goings, he stops and looks towards the Temple dome. "These people are fools." Eriol says with disdain. Turning to his captain he continues, "These egocentric imbeciles would struggle with each other for attention, duel in the streets, and fluff their feathers to show how important they are. I hope Daemons do come out and obliterate them all. Im sure they would appreciate sharpening their fangs on the bones of these "important people". I'll ignore these portents no longer. We go to strengthen our borders."

Scribbling a note, the Blood Regent hands it to one of his men, "See this gets to the newly elected Seneschal. Find His Eminence. He will be in command until the ritual is complete."

Mounting his horse with what he hoped was, a small piece of his friend Lord Gustav in a small reliquary, Eriol and his Regnal contingent make for the edge of the city.

Moira

Temple

"Aye, that is likely your eminence," Moira considered the irony of the situation. Her mission was to prevent a portal opening to the Daimon realm, the High Shugenja had devoted her whole life to fighting the Daimons, and Kristina sought aid in the High Firmament to essentially open a second front against the Daimons - though it was doubtful the Priestess understood her ritual in quite those terms... if ever there were three less likely agents to conclude a portal ritual she could not think of them.

And what was it the Jarboshi kept saying? Three must survive to perform the ritual and welcome It? Was the It the messenger Kristina was seeking to contact? That seemed damn unlikely given the provenance of that wicked brood. Were they the three? Or could they conclude the ritual and deny the three their triumph?

Were they indeed being played by forces beyond their control? Or were they serving the Hand's purpose? She supposed only time would tell.

"Lady Kristina and I will need to reenter the Flow to do our part so we will need a connection here in the mortal realm," her eye alighted on the guardsman still holding her weapons, somewhat bemused by what was happening around him, "and I think I know the perfect locus."

The sapphire eyes of Lannceann MacTiré sparkled in the light of the twin beacons, his wolf's head maw slavering in anticipation. There were many blades in the world borne for their prestige or their reputed prowess and Moira had borne many herself in the name of one noble or another, trading gold and oddments for their repair, her legend lending glory to theirs. But Lannceann MacTiré knew no other mistress. Heirs two had he in his own likeness, long since parted from him, and where the three passed so there Moira passed also, as bound to the blades as the blades were to her.

"This is Lannceann MacTiré, the glory of my youth and the strength of my enduring years," as she gestured towards the blade it seemed to shudder in its sheath, leaping forth effortlessly at her merest touch, "and where he resides so too always will you find a part of me." She presented the hilt to Lady Pryde.

This was old magic, familiar and yet easily scorned by the traders in scrolls and potions. A reminder of man's youth when the High Firmament had been as much his home as this fallen, closed off, bounded world.

Summer Evening

Yao Ling Pryde

Temple

Yao Ling examined the sword for several seconds, turning her head back and forth to see how the magic flowed around and through it.

She had seen a weapon similar to it long ago. Wielded by her cousin, a sword with a hilt in the shape of a dragon's head and a blade of fire.

A weapon of power, increasingly rare in these latter days when magic itself was failing.

They could be... temperamental... especially when someone they did not like attempted to wield them.

"Hello, Lannceann MacTiré," Yao Ling said, attempting to mimic Moira's strange words as close as possible. It would never do to insult a weapon by getting its name too wrong, after all. "I do hope you don't intend to bite me."

Bright Dreams

You wake up, blinded by the intensely bright sunlight of the day, trying to clear your eyes.

Just as your eyes adjust, you wake up again, realizing you have dreamt of awakening to the sunlight.

Moira

The Temple

"It seems wolves have an affinity for you Lady Pryde," the blade nestled comfortably in the High Shugenja's hands, "His bite is yours to command until we return."

Moira turned to Kristina, "Is there anything you need to bring into the Flow to complete the ritual?"

Yao Ling Pryde

The Temple

Yao Ling held the blade in her hand, turning it from side to side to examine it.

Then she heard Moira's question and looked back up.

"We have brought numerous scrolls with us, including a great many designed specifically to combat Daimon magics. They could be of some use to you if you wish them."

Dancer Rea

The Square

Idiot child. Dancer held his tongue, however. That idiot child was the one that pulled him to safety, after all.

"We are not leaving, Duncan." Dancer's eyes flicked to Anyte, and his voice softened. "Princess, we need to stop the bloodletting. Blood magic is and always has been the domain of the Lords, and having this much in one place, with two active Pillars, will destabilize the veil farther." Seeing confusion in several eyes, Dancer sighed. "It's not time yet." He stopped explaining, looking at Jheda, as well as the Rahien Sorei surrounding the group.

"We have two choices. We can try to stop the bloodletting, or we can try to finish.....whatever is happening here before those ignorant children destabilize the Veil farther."

Duncan Blackstone

The Square

Duncan helped Dancer onto his feet with a smile “Alright then Master, we aren’t leaving then.”

Duncan listened to Dancer and looked confused when Dancer spoke “S-stop the Lord’s entry, but this could be it Lord, this could be the push we need to bring them back.”

Duncan let Dancer explain and he nodded looking sad “Yes lord you are right, it’s too soon.”

Duncan’s gaze followed to Jheda and his men, Duncan turned his attention back to Dancer “Whatever we are doing, I am staying with you Lord, you are wounded, I would be a terrible servant if I left you now.”

Duncan was suddenly pulled back and tossed onto the stones.

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

Emilia was leaning against the wall, her small diminutive frame easy to miss, and the loss of blood taking away most of her angst. Duncan and Dancer walked close by, and she looked up with tired forest green eyes, addressing Dancer.

"Oh hello there Papa Bear..." she cracked a half smile.

"I did warn you to come up with a safe word... looks like the priest beater got the best of you back there."

The small woman sighed, looking toward the square, still littered with corpses but most of the people distracted on other affairs as the flies began to swarm on the open wounds that began to fester.

Valian Stone Daubeny

The Square

Valian stood shakily, he wiped the blood from his nose and looked, he saw Duncan, just taking with someone, like he didn’t just fight Valian.

Valian stormed over to Duncan and pulled him by the back of his collar, tossing him to the stone floor.

A few of his men ran over from their main group and joined him as Valian levelled his mace at Duncan “Duncan Blackstone Daubeny, you are charged with crimes against Obia’Syela and her people as well as heinous crimes against the Daubeny Family.”

Valian gritted his teeth and spat blood to the side of Duncan “You are accused of murder, heresy, kin slaying, arson, thievery, destruction of Obian Property, striking members of the clergy and above all Daimon worship, you are guilty of atleast five of these crimes by my own account and your sentence is death.”

Valian raised his mace high and Duncan looked genuinely afraid.

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

As Valian accused Duncan, Emilia listened and then barked out a wisp of laughter.

"Almost sounds Vordulian." she chided.

She breathed deeply, shuddering in exhale and watched. Imagining Papa Bear would now have to intervene and her fun was once again ruined by Obian filth.

Polli

The Square
Just After Saoirse's Charge (partial collaboration with Sackwell)

Polli had succumbed to her wounds, falling unconscious in a heap of bodies. Nobility had been arriving and engaging in smaller spats as Saoirse and Eriol conversed at impasse after Emilia had broken free of Saoirse. An astonished man was wandering the square asking people if they had seen the elephant while fowl squaked judgementally.

Almost simultaneously, Emilia poured the vial of Eriol's blood into Godfrey's goblet as a shout went out from the center of Vordul's ritual circle. Eriol's blood, the blood of Xlair's Blood Disciples, was a potent offering.

'Blood for the Blood God!' proclaimed Sackwell, getting everyone's attention, as he lay down in the middle of the ritual diagram.

'My life for the Blood God!' were the final words screamed at the top of his lungs, just before he unsheathed a small dagger and sliced his neck open without hesitation. His death wouldn't be as quick as it's cause, however; a macabre scene of Sackwell's gruesome final moments followed. An entire life was more potent an offering.

And then Emilia joined Sackwell in offering her lifeblood, but slicing her wrist rather than neck, slumping to the ground.

In the midst of the Blood Disciple's bloodvial being poured out, Sackwell's death, and Emilia's near death, Polli's movement wasn't immediately noticed, but her grievous wound found itself not so grievous after all, as she stirred back into consciousness.

Vordul's ritual had hung in the balance, vulnerable, but now it seemed to be gaining security once more, with the recent bloodofferings.

Kristina Chamberlain

The Temple

"I thought that the ritual was complete."

"Moira, everything is conjecture, we have put together ritals and magics in a way that... well I cannot know for sure, but I am not aware of anyone doing before." She looked around the ritual chamber, accolytes dropped their heads at her gaze, immediately finding something to occupy them other than the conversation between the three women.

"Seeing the flow as you showed it, I think perhaps we can stabilise it, channel some of the negative energies out through the other portal, but then I question what that achieves? The magic being thrown here is enough to have set the World sideways... the conduit has an immense capacity to absorb... what if we are sending raw magic through an active portal that it may devastate somewhere beyond our physical reach."

She turned her attention to Yao Ling, "You asked about the initial premise of the ritual. The Grand Mistress dreamed of the confluence of magics, scroll and portal, to select attributes from the runesnof the scrolls to summon an atch magus, there were no books to follow... At the outset, it became apparent that magics from scrolls have their own intent, they are constructs for a purpose.... I had to act quickly or Keffa would have been overrun by our own hand."

"In my past, I had been educated in the rituals of Dagda, the nine houses.... well eight and... I digress, I stopped the runes from unravelling, kept them captive until the portal held them. It was a stable column for many days. Ironically, it began to summon the earthbound to it. Something will come from it, I just wonder with all the additional energies it is now calling into itself just what."

"We all have heard the tales of these pipers, soothsayers, prohpets, call them what you will. I have asked repeatedly that the three known as Viviene, Avice and Dolores be brought here in hopes of closing the circle so to speak... I dont know what occurs outside, but it seems that brining them here is causing far more trouble than one would imagine." She was pacing again, the energies she was holding making it difficult to remain still for long. "It is unlikely we three are the cusp of finishing the ritual. But we need to give the pipers time to get here without something less controlled, breaking free of the net, without simply causing issue elsewhere."

She looked at the blade in Yao Lings grasp, looking at Moira she raised a brow. "Are you suggesting we move some of the magic and, i don't know... earth it through the blade.... is that even possible Yao Ling? Or do I misunderstand this entirely?"

Yao Ling Pryde

The Temple

Yao Ling let out a long breath as she considered Kristina's words.

"I have learned to never underestimate what magic is capable of," she finally said and looked at the portal again.

Then she laughed.

"You winged it. Absolutely amazing."

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

"It was a... creative endeavour." She smiled ruefully at Yao Ling. "Perhaps more creative thinking will see this to right.... especially given that nobody in the square seems to be doing a damned thing about the Vordulists. 7000 faithful and barely a stone thrown.... amazing."

Dreams of Trash

You are wandering a trash heap, amongst the scavenging rag 'n bone beggars, as the sun is setting, casting orange across the sky.

Awakening quite tired, you feel miserly in all your dealings for the day.

Moira

Temple

"That indeed is what I'm considering," Moira's eyes were far off, lost momentarily in her own private thoughts. She was decidedly not the Dubhaine they needed... but sadly she was the one they'd have to make do with.

"Sorry... I mean, yes. Lady Kristina is right, we can't loose the magic into either portal. At best doing so would attract creatures from the High Firmament, at worst..." she lowered her voice so only the three of them could hear, "At worst we could establish what the Balancewalkers call a dark communion, which is to say a region of... let's say space and time to keep it simple though that really doesn't capture the subtleties of the Higher Realms. A region of space and time cut off entirely from the Balance would cease to flow at all, all that energy dissolving the boundaries between realities. It would be as if the Veil were inverted, drawing together that which it currently holds apart."

Brigdha would definitely have described that better. Elegantly. That was the difference between an adept and a Balancewalker, between a smith and a poet. Still, Moira knew enough to do the practical work needed and if necessary to improvise whatever Kristina needed when they reentered the Flow.

"High Shugenja, an unimaginable amount of power is going to be channeled to you and it will be tainted by the Vordul rituals. It will want to flow back into those rituals. Find it a better purpose."

Timsen Quasath

Temple Dome

As the third day dawned for Timsen on the roof of the temple, he barely registered the sun on his cheeks. He was deep, perhaps too deep, into his meditative trance trying to ease and channel the flow of power in the city to bring something (good, he pleads to himself) into the world. He had not stopped to sleep, drink or eat, and the toll was beginning to show more in his face.

Timsen's captain and his Slingers kept watch from down below, as far as they could come before the temple guards held them back, and they were worried. Too much chaos in this city for their comfort, and their leader exposed and vulnerable. Sure, some of them were scattered across roofs on the regular buildings, keeping watch from a distance, but that didn't ease much anxiety. They grumbled, they kept watch, they waited.

As the Vordulism ritual gained power again, Timsen could feel a shift in the flow of magic. The fresh influx of blood magic, and with enough amounts to probably mean a human sacrifice, could bode poorly for the whole ritual. Timsen was momentarily in doubt about whether to continue his trance, then quickly realized he had no choice. Even if he wanted, he could not pull back now. He was tied into the trance and to the entire ritual as a whole. His decision being made for him, Timsen spiritually smirked in good humour and continued his intention of easing the passage of whatever was coming. Even if was something tied to the blood magic, Timsen may still be able to ease its passing, and so perhaps save Keffa upon its arrival or least ease the consequences of its coming.

Find the good in the bad, as it were, and amplify it. Timsen could live, and die, for that.

Yao Ling Pryde

Temple

"I actually mean it," Yao Ling said. "Amazing. I saw the aftermath of the last time someone used magic on this scale in Keffa."

Yao Ling stamped her feet on the hard stone beneath them. "I think this is the base of the crater that was left behind when it blew a hole in... well... reality."

"So... the fact that this temple is still standing. Really... really amazing."


Yao Ling gave Moira a wry smile. "Finding a purpose is one thing I have always been good at."

Then she turned back to Kristina. "Though I do hope your god is not offended if I call on gods I'm a bit more familiar with while doing so."

She ruefully raised the icons of Daishi and Atlas in her hands. "I can assure you that no disrespect is meant by that."

10th October

Summer Day

Betty

Temple

Betty returned in time to hear the end of of the conversation about magic and power. She glanced towards the column of light and nodded in acceptance.

Then she began popping straps and taking her armor off. It was an amazing set of armor. Really the best she'd ever worn by a long shot. Possibly the best she'd ever touched. Armor fit for a true noble.

Once she had stripped down to her leathers, she stepped forward and hung the first piece onto her mistress.

"Wait," Yao Ling said in surprise and turned a questioning head her way. "What?"

"Hush," Betty said in a quelling tone. "You're going to need this a lot more than me if you're going to do all that."

Yao Ling pursed her lips, and nodded in acceptance.

Betty smiled began strapping each piece of armor onto her mistress. She smiled at the other two women as she did so.

"I can't tell you where I found this. But it was in bad shape when it came into my possession. I spent a lot of time with a lot of sages to get it fixed up. Yao Ling told me to wear it when we left the temple because she wanted me to be better protected from all the chaos out there." Betty shook her head. "It's as comfortable as it is pretty, let me tell you. Those sages knew what they were doing."

She locked the last straps in place and stepped away from the priest now wearing a glittering suit of metal armor.

Betty smiled and waved a hand at her mistress as she gazed at the other two women. "I present to you, the best suit of armor I have ever worn. The Armour of Righteousness. May it live up to its name today."

Godfrey Greybrook

Witnessing the death around him, the pain in his now absent ear became nullified as the sheer magical concentration was sending him from one trance to the next.

Why would the Emperor which this? There was so much magic here yet with each ritual disturbance and success, the end was not in sight.

Yet, what Godfrey did notice was the sheer amount of blood that he had shed for both the ritual and from his ear. He knew that he was treading a fine line between success and failure. Yet it must be done, and be done soon.

Hence, Godfrey for one last time allowed the blood to trickle into the Goblet, praying to the Eternal Emperor for one final guidance on this day so that he can carry out his word.

Summer Evening

Moira

Temple

"Then let's to our business," Moira clasped hands with Kristina, this time taking the time to synchronise her heart-being with that of the Obeah Priestess, smoothing her translation into the higher dimensions. To the others in the Temple chamber it seemed as if the two women became glass vessels, solid to the touch and yet translucent and lustrous and... empty.

For the Priestess the transition was much less jarring than their first journey, and finding herself with her feet firmly on the Path of Conviction she was surprised to find her perception of the abstract realm of the Flow merging with her astral sight as if the latter was overlaid but not quite the way she would have expected. She looked quizzically at Moira who shrugged her black pauldrons and smiled. The adventuress was clad in a suit of burnished black plate armour of a now archaic style, the unsheathed mirror of Lannceann MacTiré in her hand. There was a tragic nobility to the image. A remembrance beyond time of a lost order of chivalry. A lion in winter.

"Astral space exists closer to the mortal realms," the adventuress said by way of explanation, "and the dimensionality is... stretched here in the Flow. In general I recommend not using the sight here if you want to keep your lunch where it belongs but on this occasion it will be easier for us both if we can see what we're about."

She wasn't joking. Moira took in the spectacular ghostly spires of Keffa's astral bastions, casements and buttresses limned with cascades of maroon balefire and intermittent flashes of brighter hues, their angles strangely extruded as if the city were projected on the surface of a water droplet. Despite its size she had the distinct impression it would fit snuggly in the palm of her hand and even as a frequent visitor to the Flow she found the juxtaposition discomforting.

The blade in her hand howled softly and an answer echoed from the city beneath?... above?... from the city. Howls turned to whines as the blade recognised itself across the veil and the link essential to their plan was established.

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

Square

The Queen of Ar Agyr's horse sauntered towards the Eastern Gate at the head of a column of Royal Fusileers, its rider dressed in the same practical wargear of plate pieces and leather, sword and bow. She'd been camped in the woods of Zwering for several days, close by to the city to lend aid if calamity struck and eager for news that Maurice had been located. None had come, not even after Lord Paridithous rode ahead, and her natural impatience had finally got the better of her. No progeny of Jarbosh had any business claiming to be Agyrian nobility and she'd settle this matter personally.

Captain Caedberga rode at her right hand, a veteran of the Invasion who'd personally slain daimons with blade and shaft. Caedberga lacked her Queen's charm but her loyalty and courage were legendary.

The Queen's squire Aelwyn rode at her rear, the banner of Ar Agyr proudly anchored in his stirrup and trailing behind him in the gentle summer breeze. He was a youngish man, though blooded in battle more times than his unscarred features would suggest.

Reia, Royal Equerry and former Paladin of Darton, rode at the Queen's left hand, unarmed and dressed in a sombre cloak over her court finery, grey braids barely visible beneath her hood. It was rare for the Equerry to be seen in public this way, her duties usually requiring more discretion.

The Queen raised her right hand as her left twitched her reins and brought her horse to a gentle halt. The column of fusileers followed suit, with minimal fuss deploying into three ranks just beyond the range of the walls. The walls however were not beyond the range of the fusileers, and with the strange light emanating from the city centre there'd be little hope of concealment for defenders with ill intent.

"Make the necessary announcements Aelwyn," Aibhlidhn studied the gate, wondering why the defences were so silent. Had evil already befallen and what lay before them was the corpse of a city?

Aelwyn thrust the haft of the standard into the rich Keffan soil and spurred his horse forward, advancing to within twenty yards of the gate. The bastions were deserted. He rode onwards into the eerily quiet streets beyond, long shadows stretching in the evening sunlight, continuing on until he heard the unmistakable sounds of armed men clashing in the direction of the central plaza. He swiftly returned with his report.

The riders conferred without dismounting. Caedberga - practical as ever - cautioned against entering until sunrise and urged the Queen to call up reinforcements from the camp in Zwering, by contrast Reia argued that if fighting was already underway then time was very much of the essence.

Aibhlidhn weighed the options. Entering a city blind was never a wise idea. But then again... there was too much at stake not to take action.

"The Obeah may not be our friends, but neither are they our enemies," she dismounted, drawing her fusil from its saddle holster, "We'll move house-to-house and see what's afoot."

Luto

The Square
Nothoi

Luto, having left the temple with Yao Ling, had initiated the ritual with much dancing. But when a messenger arrived for Luto, the drumming stopped and the dancing continued quietly. Nothoi's ritual stood vulnerable as Luto departed to meet Yao Ling at the other temple.

Maurice

The Square
Ar Agyr

Maurice had considered the Others and chosen. Searching for Luto in the Square as Maurice played his lute, he found and, singing, challenged Luto to a duel to the death. Luto accepted, stopping to send a messenger to Yao Ling and any other Nothoians present.

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

She looked at the relics preferred by Yao Ling, one day her wisdom would allow her to understand the the faces of the Goddess were many, but the nature was truly just one. She made no comment, this was neither the time.... though perhaps most definitely the place.

"We need to cleanse the column, try and remove the taints of the more questionable magiks being hurled. Hopefully this will help the ritual resolve.... favourably."

Everything was in flux and she was a spent force exhausted beyond any normal measure, but she and her comrades were all she had. An adventurer whom she barely knew and a high priestess whom in any other circumstance would be a rival. And here she must trust them, body soul and mind.

"I used to be better at this," she sighed, "changing primal magic into something, I could have grown a tree or raised a rock or two... now, I can make a flame, but I fear that releasing the magics as fire would be a veritable inferno. worse still if I am.trying yo denature ritual magics... do you believe you can deal with the volumes I may be throwing your way Lady Pryde?"

Regardless of the answer she had no choice. She took Moira by the hand: "If you are both sure?"

Rituals

Most realms had by now made their decisions.

The Obian ritual symbols glowed the brightest, while those of Vordul , and the Sanguinis, Irondale, Shattered Vales glowed just a little less than the Obian ritual. Thalmarkins ritual glowed a little less than theirs, Nova a bit less than that, and Nothoi's was then dimmest of all the ritual symbols.

Still Dreams

You look up to an endless white sky. The air hangs still and not a sound or movement is made, an eerie, chilling sensation.

You awaken with a fright, realizing it was but a dream. But the deep feeling of emptiness does not depart, plaguing you emotionally.

Yao Ling Pryde

Temple

"I believe I can," Yao Ling said with a smile.

Then she looked for some place to put her icons. She found just the right places, and slipped the icons of Daishi and Atlas into perfect little slits in her armor.

It really WAS nice armor.

It had pockets.

Esdalot

The Square - Thalmarkin

Esdalot eagerly received Elshon's bloody meat gift and began adding them to the grill-altar to Mordok.

Surrounded by Rosko's men, the ritual felt secure. And tasty, with the smells wafting across the square of an inestimable variety of meats being grilled.

11th October

Summer Day

Duel

Luto meets his challenger Maurice for the agreed duel till death.
Maurice has decided to use the 'aggressive' strategy while Luto has chosen the 'defensive' strategy, giving Luto the advantage.
The duel goes as planned, then badly for Maurice. He suffers several slight wounds, then a final, fatal blow. The healers hurry, but they are too late.

Saoirse MacArbin

The Square

Saoirse turned as Eriol left. There might still be trouble there, but she had more immediate issues. She issued orders to the various troops in the area to see to the complete destruction of any Vordulian ritual implements or symbols still left in the area. The various captains in the area began working, and servants were summoned from the nearby palace to begin removing the bodies for proper cremation, and scrubbing the street. Soldiers found Godfrey and Polli amongst the mess, and both were seized while soldiers began escorting them out of the square toward the Vordulian encampment on the edge of the city.

Saoirse sighed in relief seeing the square clear of the blood ritual. While Godfrey and Polli might well have taken something small with them, the goblet that had been the main focus of their ritual was carefully carried away from the temple to be ritually washed away in the canal, and the whole area was being washed and consecrated by various underpriests from the temple. There might well be more conflict, but at least it would be more straightforward.

While this was all being organized, Tayla came up with and filled her in on the various correspondence and matters she had missed...Including the fact that a Mordok Priest was grilling what was likely people for the Thalmarkin "Other", and the fact that Rulers and dignitaries from half the continent were waiting.

She sent word to the rest of the realm, someone else would need to attend to the Mordokian, and she turned to announce, and have Tayla send messages, that those interested in a civil event would be welcome to join her in the palace. Hopefully she could keep a lid on matters while Kristina and Yxevarii and the rest were able to see to the ritual proper...

Luto

The Square
Nothoi-Ar Agyr Death Duel

Maurice charges aggressively, pushing Luto around and controlling the duel's tempo. Yet Luto lands several key cuts, though none major enough to stop Maurice. Around and around they fight, slight injuries not slowing Maurice's advances. Bloodied, but relentless both seem possessed of a particular desire to fight to the death without any mercy shown to the seriously injured.

And then, after raging bloody, it ends in a moment as Luto finally achieves a major wound to the inner thigh during one of Maurice's advances. Maurice dies in a painful, bloody, but relatively quick death. Luto hurries onward to meet Yao Ling.

Avice

The Square
Nova

Avice nods to Genesis Mcloud, "We have much work to do. Your protection is highly valued."

Avice continued playing a tune for a time.

Then, turning to Genesis again, "Would you join me in supplication to Obeah for It to come to Nova?"

Dancer Rea

"Stop him"

Despite the injury, Dancer's command rang across the assembled troops, the tone of a Duke that is used to being listened to. Jheda's men moved quickly, stopping the new noble in their tracks, and surrounding the arms men that came with him. From his position on the ground, blood still leaking from his back injury, Dancer growled at the newcomer.

"I don't even care who you are, leave now. That's my property you are threatening." Dancer turned his head to Jheda's men. "Get him out of here, and make a better shield wall. I'm sure the Margrave of our biggest city pays you better then letting some child burst though your 'protection.' "

The men were quick on their feet at least....word about the Executioner Duke had spread far. The child from OS was quickly expelled from the small group in the center of the small army Jheda had brought with him, and a healer was brought forward to tend to Dancer's wounds. Rolled onto his stomach as the healer worked, Dancer watched one of the Vordul children from between the feet of the new and improved wall of arms men, her stare unwavering from the group, her lips moving every so often. Dancer had never learned to read lips, but he was sure it was some prayer to their fallen child-king.

Several minutes passed, the slight sting of the needle sewing his flesh back together marking the progress of the healer. Finally, Dancer was able to stand up, very gingerly, and chewing some ikrif like cud. Duncan hurried over, and let Dancer lean on him for support, and closely dogged his footsteps. The Duke looked at his charge, a slight glint of....was it humor? in his eye.

"I'm not going to ask, Duncan. Come, we have to speak to the Grandmistress. I want you with me in case I need a hand to stay upright, Vahanian may not have cut too deep, but it is enough."

Dancer looked to Jheda, and Anyte.

"Stay behind the men, Princess. Margrave, as you were."

With that, Dancer made his way out of the men once again, this time with Duncan in tow to assist. He had to stop this bloodletting.......

After only a few dozen feet, he felt it. A targeted magical attack on his person. He gasped, trying to throw the magic off, but unlike the calming spell, this was targeted at him, and only him. Nearly tripping due to the sudden nausea, Dancer came to a halt. Sweat began to roll down his forehead and he could feel the pull of the spell, telling, no, commanding him to drop. He clapped a hand on Duncan's shoulder, his fingers digging into the younger man's flesh.

"We need to get back to the men, now."

Polli

The Square
Vordul Sanguinis

Polli is attempting to redraw the earlier scuffed out symbols, when she screams out in pain. The snap of bones breaking. More screaming. Polli's skin is ripped apart as bones are exposed. Successful magic has wounded Polli, yet again rendering the ritualwork vulnerable.

Godfrey makes another offering, holding the ritual energy just barely, his sixth sense tingling.

And yet Obian troops hold the square around Polli and Godfrey. The destruction of arcane symbols break the ritual, releasing the energy. The area still hums with Vordulian hymns as the released ritual-energy lingers, gradually dissipating, the glow fading from symbols the more they're washed away.

Wounded, Polli is unable to resist Saoirse's soldiers' escort, awakening healed outside the city walls.

Viviane

Outside the Temple Square
Viviane's Assassination and Healing

Viviane was entirely surprised, but instinctively pulled a dagger out, and deflected some blows, yet not nearly enough. It only took one deep stab to her side and she felt blackness approaching. Then slumped to the ground as the stranger-assassin made their escape.

The portal stones set by Serena had flickered in their glow when Viviane was stabbed in the street. Upon her healing, they had resumed their steady glow.

Awakening with the healers some time later, Viviane looked around groggily, asking where Sir Snuggles was and why there were so many worms flying around. Then fell back asleep.

The next she awoke, Viviane recognized Elizabeth sitting nearby. Still groggy, "Who stabbed me?"

Valian Stone Daubeny

Outside the Temple Square

Elizabeth looked happy when Viviane spoke, she rushed over to the Lady’s side and held out a small flask. “It’s wine, Captain Tomasa said to give it to you when you woke up”

Elizabeth thought for a moment “I don’t know Lady, he came in and out in an instant, no one could stop him, I was worried he killed you.”

Elizabeth smiled “I am glad you aren’t dead, so you need any help standing?”

Godfrey Greybrook

Godfrey saw that there were significant numbers of Obeah's faithful attempting to distrupt the ritual for the Eternal Emperor.

There were no signs... Has the Eternal Emperor chosen to forsake them this time? Had they not sacrificed enough?

When the soldiers came, Godfrey immediately took his ritual blade and declared that any step forward would see more blood on the street. While there was too many, he was not going to let them have the goblet.

"Your diety is evil and so are you! Your heralds spread destruction and false promises. Do you think your Obeah will ever bring you salvation?? She won't care if humanity destroys itself - her intervention only comes when it suits for she is a selfish diety."

While some of the soldiers did try and interfere, Godfrey rather pathetically attempted to gesture them away:

"Another step forward and I will make it my mission to see blood split in this city in the name of the Eternal Emperor! Do you want to be responsible for the death of your nobles?"

Emilia Delamoire

The Square

Emilia, seeing the troops descend on Polli and Godfrey was thankful to be a lone woman among hundreds.

Pulling up from the wall she steadied herself, still light headed from the blood loss.

She walked a few paces and crouched over a fallen Obian soldiers and relieved the corpse of his cloak bearing their colors and sigil.

Emilia tied the cloak over her own shoulders and pulled the cowl low. She then kept to the side alleys and less crowded streets to make her way out of the Square and depart Keffa.

Genesis Mcloud

The Square
Nova

Hearing Avice's words over the commotion happening elsewhere, Genesis turn and nods in return.

"Of course, I will join you right away."

A little apprehensive to leave themselves unguarded, yet feeling a bit at ease with the fact that none has attempted to interfere with them yet, Genesis moves to the center of the circle of animals. She removes her sword from her scabbard, and places it on the ground in front of her. Kneeling down herself, she removes her helmet, letting her midnight black hair fall to her shoulders. She places her helmet on the ground at her sword, and does the only thing she can think to do to aid Avice. Genesis begins praying.

Timsen Quasath

Temple Dome

The fourth day came and went for Timsen and he felt it not. Far down in the depths of his trance, Timsen had no perception of the physical world. Indeed, all he could feel were the emotions and magics of the city as every ritual came to fruition, or failed.

Timsen rode the flow of energies and used his willpower and intent of helping the voice of 'spring' into the world. Hope and life was strong in his thoughts as the Obian ritual magics seared the air.

Summer Evening

Do'Urden Sharpspeare

  • Twack

"Well done, Your Grace. Bullseye" the servant as Do'Urden loaded up another arrow. "Thank you, Jamsel. One must keep one's skills sharp or lose those skills." Do'Urden smiled slightly. Jamsel was relatively new to his service, having only been with the Duke for a month or so. Jamsel was a small man, at 5 foot even. His sandy blond hair swaying in the wind.

Do'Urden took aim again. He was camped on the outskirts of Keffa. There was strange things happening here. So this archery practice was his was of keeping a sense of calm. Taking careful aim, he released.

  • Twack

"You hit the target, Your Grace. But you are off center just a bit" Jamsel reported. 'Huh, I should adjust my grip slightly' Do'Urden thought. And as he did so, he saw his men at work in the camp. Over by the large tree was several men practicing their swordsmanship. On the other side of the camp the cooks were busy with the next meal. They had caught some rabbit the day before and were using it to make some Rabbit stew. Just thinking of the food got Do'Urden's mouth watering. 'Control yourself, you are a seasoned veteran and not a pimply faced boy out on his first campaign.' So the Duke prepared another arrow and aimed.

  • Twack-whoosh

"Sorry, Your Grace, you missed," Jamsel sheepishly stated. Do'Urden just looked at the man. "Ok, that is enough for now. Collect the arrows and return them to my tent. I'm going to teach those young pups over there how to handle a sword." Bowing his head, Jamsel set off on his task. Do'Urden stalked off towards his men, mouth still watering over the stew. Now, however, his hunger was for something else. He may be getting old, but he was still fit and would prove it, even at the expense of adding some bruises to himself and his men.

Ehrich Weisz

A dusty wagon arrived very late to the proceedings in Keffa. Along the road the Duke had usually been enclosed within, all day long pouring over recent accounts and much older books of lore, but now at the final stages of the journey he seated himself up front and beheld the mysterious spectacle unfolding in Keffa for himself.

The obscure accounts, which varied wildly in tone from one day to the next, had done nothing to ease his concerns but the palpable magic energy originating from the column of light was an irresistible source of interest. As a practical student of arcane lore he hoped to try and distinguish between the mystical and the magical, but above all he was ever warry that daimonic energy did not seek to corrupt the situation and he kept a pair of banishment scrolls tucked carefully within his robes.

He recognised the livery of many distinguished houses within the busy city but thought first to make his way to his own Emperor and this odd Dame Dolores who had inspired this strange migration from the Vales. "I would give a golden goose to understand what was going on here," Ehrich mused to himself and busied himself taking copious notes of the strange proceedings.

Dreams of Timsen

Everyone experiences dreams related to Timsen. Those who have met him dream of past interactions while those who have not met him dream of reading his name in a report. Timsen himself dreams of playing with soil when a child.

Alice Schwarzherzig

The Daleish Corner

Alice looked on as the guards dragged out Inica, whose mouth was held open by a device strapped to her head. She was forced to her knees in front of Bernard.

"We give another life to the ritual." Alice spoke, turning to Inica.

"By the powers vested in me, I condemn you to die. May your soul find redemption in the beyond."

Alice motioned and a crucible full of molten iron was brought out once again. A funnel was place in Inica's mouth, and the iron poured into it. Inica made a noise... Part gurgling, part screaming, but for a moment. Her body twitched and thrashed violently against her bindings... And Inica was dead.

"Let our light shine Bernard." She spoke softly to the piper.

Jecht Tideweaver

The Square
Shattered Vales Corner

Jecht had been ever vigilant remaining with Dolores at the shrine she had made out of flowers. The woman sang more often than not and melodic voice had grown on the Emperor. He now wore traditional matching ceremonial plate mail, his guard insisting he no longer remain in the open bare chested. They grumbled something about keeping an arrow or a daimon's claw out of his heart. During the proceedings, Jecht had been present went the magical attack upon Dolores came, only for healing magicks to burst from around her and she emerged mostly unscathed. Despite his vigilant guard, she had nearly come to harm. This was a subject that had the Emperor fixated. He did not know how to protect her from the arcane. The Emperor immediately ordered spies and extra eyes and ears to be placed all over the city to listen for incoming danger.

As he was at the shrine, dreaming bright dreams, one of those who were sent to listen to the cities going ons at large came to the him.

"My lord Emperor, the men of Duke Ehrich have come to the city!" he quickly spat. Clearly out of breath from running.

Jecht's eyebrows raised. Perhaps his prayers to Veiled Goddess had not gone unanswered. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the lad.

"Duke Ulv, I leave you in command here. See to it the men remain ever vigilant and no harm comes to Dolores. Imperatrix Tara, Praetrix Arnulf, you both come with me to greet the Duke and we shall bring him here" ordered Jecht.

With a nod the Duke quickly took command and went about ensuring everyone remained in place. Jecht's Royal Chargers as well as the men under Tara and Arnulfs command quickly formed up and they went to the southern gate of the city. About three quarters of the way there and the bright banners of the crystal tree held by Duke Ehrich's retinue were in sight.

When the two parties met, Jecht greeted the older man with open arms. The younger man still showing reverence for his predecessor.

"Duke Ehrich, you come at a good time. I am glad you were able to join us. I know the workings of Liber Alchemical have been keeping you quite busy as of late. I still must make a trip to Iato to visit the guild myself. Come, allow me to escort you to the square in which the Vale has set up and bring you up to speed. I fear while we are secure physically, we have still been vulnerable to attack by magic. Of which there is quite a lot being slung around."

As the two men began to make their way back to the corner of the square where the Shattered Vales had set up their shrine, Jecht began confiding all the things that had transpired with his mentor.

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

Aibhlidhn perched elegantly on the stone parapet of a large townhouse on the eastern perimeter of the city's main plaza, her deadly flintwood bow at rest in one hand as the other shielded her eyes from the dying glare of the westering sun. The Royal Fusileers had taken up positions in the neighbouring houses, waiting for some indication from their mistress as to what to do next.

The scene below was a riot of colour and movement with banners from across the continent arrayed loosely by realm. An embattled contingent from Vordul Sanguinis clustered about the detritus of what appeared to be a battle and possibly a religious ritual of some kind whilst to their north a large force of Thalmarkin knights, fronted by the one-time Daimon worshipper Dancer, seemed to be in dispute with them. The Queen was more interested in events around the Temple of Obeah where two overlaid columns of coruscating light thrust heavenwards with such intensity that even the highest clouds seemed powerless against them. It seemed the bulk of the Obian garrison were gathering there and she could make out a number of Nothoi banners. Doubtless she'd find some of the Emperor's companies from the Vales as well though none was clearly marked.

The Temple then was the place to make for.

Ehrich Weisz

The Square
Shattered Vales Corner

Ehrich was heartened first to receive a warm welcome from his comrades from the Vales, and then drew reassurance when Dolores accepted an offering he found it hard to understand that could be easily incorporated into a malign ritual.

Tired from the road and the overwhelming spectacle of the busy city, the Duke retired to make final studies before bed, dozing off with an old book for a pillow. Dreams of a vague acquaintance who he had corresponded with on only two occasions of note seemed a little strange and even more so when others of his entourage reported the same.

The Duke who strove to try and make order and sense from the fledgling magical sciences of alchemy and astrology ahead of the mysticism others favoured, finding himself so quickly subsumed into the fantastical was a little disturbed. Making some final observations to his diaries the Duke retired properly to bed. this time with a trusty garland of ivy and thyme to ward off any further fantastical visions and resolving himself to continue with practical investigations afresh come the morning.

Luto

Temple
Nothoi

Luto arrived at the Obian temple seeking Yao Ling. A member of the Daishi, he was told to wait while temple bureaucrats confirmed his request with their superiors.

Bernard

Daleish Corner

Gentle Bernard felt disturbed by Alice's contributions to Irondale's rituals, but he also knew such rituals were a team effort that took all types.

Their lives fueling the ritual, Bernard played solemnly for their deaths and non-consensual sacrifice. Not as influential as a consensual sacrifice, yet helpful all the same.

Feeling a heavy heart with such bloodshed, Bernard began to oversee the various human followers wheeling barrows of soil into the square from outside the city walls. He pulled out a bag of assorted seeds and began planting small gardens in the vicinity. After each plot was finished, he would play an irondalian tune on his bagpipes, blessing it with ritual song. Few noticed, but the plots formed a larger arcane symbol. The gardening comforted one's soul, and strengthened the ritual.

Presently, Alice brought another unwilling sacrifice. Bernard solemnly nodded and played another somber hymn to mark another life's passing, as Irondale's symbols glowed brighter.

Viviane

Outside the Temple Square

Viviane tries the wine. It was good. She tries more, before replying, "It happened so quickly, and my back was to whoever it was."

Viviane thinks a moment, "How did you find out the assassin was male, if they weren't identified?"

Viviane attempts to stand, but she realizes she probably needs water and food first.

Dolores

The Square
Shattered Vales

The shrine of Beluaterra's plants had grown considerable in size and the various human and animal followers were now praying to the Goddess, or singing praises, around the shrine. Inside the shrine with the nobility present, Dolores was playing the harp and singing.

12th October

Summer Day

Rituals

Viviane was still making her way to Obeah's temple, currently resting after assassination attempt. Even so, the original portal stones glow brightest of any ritual, though slightly dimmer than the day before.

Bernard was busy gardening for Irondale's ritual. The garden plots and arcane circle glow almost as brightly as the Obian stones, even more brightly than they had the previous day.

Dolores was playing the harp inside her shrine of foraged flora, which glowed about half as bright as the Obian and Irondalian rituals, yet brighter than the day previous.

Polli was recuperating outside the walls of Keffa, Vordul Sanguinis's ritual-energy lingering but gradually dissipating.

Esdalot was grilling any offered meats, the grill-altar glowing about half as bright as the Vales' shrine.

Nothoi's ritual was vulnerable with Luto having left to meet Yao Ling at the Obian temple. Even so, the animal and human dancers glowed brighter than they had before Luto had slain Maurice in single combat.

Avice was joining Genesis in prayer within the pyramid-shrine of animals, which glowed the least of all rituals.

Wren

In the mad dash toward the temple, Wren had lost sight of her friends and gradually slowed. The fear of dashing into that otherworldly light's presence alone was tight around her chest. What now?

The small, birdlike woman halts over to one side of the bustling plaza, mounts some steps and peers intently first ahead, then all around, seeking familiar faces.

Insanity abounds. There are fights, spells being cast, more people arriving. It seems as though people cover every flat surface in sight. Even the rooftops! Oh, she I know.

The raven-haired commander that can only be Ar Agyr's Queen--for whom she repaired an item very recently--is visible watching the action and flanked with a number of troops high above on a parapet.

With one last glance around, still not knowing where Nerta or her other friends have gotten to, Wren decides to watch the monarch of the realm that has granted her asylum and give aid to them where she can.

Alice Schwarzherzig

The Daleish Corner

The ritual glowing brightly, Alice watched Gentle Bernard tend the garden, and was awed by the quick growth. The solemn tunes, and the growing garden stirred her. She was saddened by the deaths she had ordered, but knew well and surely that without death, new life could not be. This cycle mirrored the philosophies of Irondale. Bernard's sorrowful tune continued, and Alice began to sing along.

Rest now, lie back and close your eyes,
Silence take you, quiet your final cries,
For this too shall pass,
This too shall pass...
Birds sing amongst the trees,
A wolf's cry upon the breeze,
Your head resteth upon the sand,
Become one now with the land,
Cut and bleed, dance and sing,
Drink and laugh while steel doth ring,
Dance the ballad of life,
Ere it end at the point of a knife,
Rest now, lie back and close your eyes,
Silence take you, quiet your final cries,
For this too shall pass,
All things shall pass...
Fear not the tune upon your breath,
For if life is but a dance,
Should not the tune be played by death?
Give me your hand, take a chance,
How sweet that life doth end,
For new things lie roun' the bend,
Without death cannot be seen,
Come see now, beckoned to Heen,
Rest now, lie back and close your eyes,
Silence take you, quiet your final cries...
Quiet your final cries...
For you too shall pass,
We all shall pass..."

Alice smiled. Her grandmother used to sing her that song. Her father didn't approve, thinking it too morbid for a child, but she had always found it comforting. She looked to Bernard.

"Such beauty you have wrought gardener. It is almost a shame it cannot last forever. There is comfort, and beauty in knowing though, that when this Garden eventually wilts away, it will allow for something else beautiful to come into this world. The cycle of life and death is a sadly beautiful thing like that, no?"

Duncan Blackstone

The Temple Square

Duncan stood up slowly, he grinned widely, his eyes manic as the blissful pain ran through his body. He could feel the Tenebris Cordis kick in and he felt his head clear as he reached to his left shoulder and pushed it, he felt it pop and crack back into place.

His eyes began to glow a bright crimson and Duncan reached to his belt and extracted a small vial and downed the black liquid.

Duncan could feel the potion taking affect, rippling across his body and enhancing his senses.

Duncan grinned and then cooed “Valian, Valian, Valian.”

Duncan’s smile became cruel and a manic match to his crazed eyes “You will have to hit me a lot harder then that to kill me.”

Duncan pulled out his two daggers and charged screaming “LET’S SEE IF YOU BETTER THEN YOUR PRECIOUS HERVIS!”

Duncan dodged the blows of Valian’s soldiers, he slashed and hacked as he danced his way forward, two fell before Haydrian and Valian could reacted, Haydrian was kicked in the stomach and had his head slammed into the fountain by Duncan in a blur of movement.

Duncan and Valian stood face to face now, Valian looked at his unit which was making its way to the temple with Elizabeth and Viviane.

Duncan was quick and Valian soon found himself struggling, he struck down at the Blackstone with his hammer but Duncan caught his hand and smiled as he brought his dagger below Valian’s wrist and cut up, slicing the hand clean from Valian’s arm.

Duncan kicked Valian and sent him to the floor, he raised his dagger and leapt at Valian swinging his dagger down at fallen knight.

Yao Ling Pryde

Yao Ling pursed her lips and looked to the column of light where the souls once again rested.

She held the sword in one hand and pilfered through her scrolls. She found the ones she wanted and smiled. This should do nicely.

Yao Ling rolled them out on a nearby table, ran her fingers over the words, and reached out for the magics flowing around them in the city.

She placed one mental hand on the column of light and the souls therein, another mental hand on the Obian ritual supporting it, and another mental hand on the Nothoi ritual in the temple of Daishi. She focused another mental hand on Timsen at the dome of the temple. Other mental hands held the icons of Daishi and Atlas, and their links to the various incantations in the temple, that resident in the amazing pockets of her armor.

She fingered the scrolls with her real hand, and waited for the column to turn green around her. Then she murmured the incantations as she focused on spreading joy, unity, and cooperation throughout all of her mental appendages linking the two temple complexes.

She finished the rituals, watched the scrolls glow golden, and released the magics to do her will in the world.

Gavin

The Square - Shattered Vales

Gavin slipped silently towards the group of learned Vales nobility. Almost reaching their inner circle before he was halted by their bodyguards. Grabbed by the scruff of his neck he was almost hauled off but managed to catch the attention of the old Emperor Ehrich for whom he had run errands in the past.

"My Lords and Ladys - I bring my own humble gifts for our ritual. I hope these rare mountain flowers will please the Goddess?" - and he presented the small but beautiful flowers to Dame Delores. "And maybe this scroll will have some benefit?" and he handed that over also.

Happy his part was done he bowed out and headed for the tavern.

Vahanian Blint

Vahanian watched Valian storm over to where Duncan was standing with Dancer and Anyte. Valian was shouting at Duncan, apparently the two were related. Vahanian considered letting the idiot boy get himself killed, but Kethan's words echoed in his head "It's a blood ritual." So Vahanian stormed over over with his soldiers, and whipped his blade out, catching the dagger that Duncan was aiming at Valian. He wrenched the dagger free from Duncan's grasp and leveled his own sword at him. "Back away." He growled. Duncan, grinned with glee and stepped back slowly, hands open and spread in mockery.

Vahanian reached down and grabbed Valian by the back of his collar and hauled him to his feet and away from the fight. He dragged him a good distance from Duncan and Dancer, ignoring the comments he was sure Emilia was throwing his way, from somewhere. His guards had their weapons drawn and deterred Dancer or Duncan from pursuing Vahanian.

He hurled him into the middle of his soldiers and leveled a stare at him. Valian, his blood hot and ready to continue the fight, surged forward trying to break free. Vahanian dodged out of the way of his flailing mace slapping Valian's hand with the flat of his blade, causing him to drop the mace, and punched Valian. "Think you fool!" Vahanian hissed. Valian looked stunned as he came to his senses and Vahanian's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, danger gleaming in his eye. "If it's death you want, then I will happily kill you. But if you want to live, especially for that child you dote on, then think, for once in your miserable, heathen life. These events are bigger than you and your petty family squabble." Vahanian sheathed his sword, but kept his hand tightly on it's hilt.

Valian was still breathing heavy and looked at Vahanian "He murdered them! He's responsible! He must pay!"

Vahanian shoved Valian back again and said "I don't care. Maybe he did, maybe he murdered them, maybe he danced and sang as they burned alive, maybe he slowly and sensually mutilated their bodies, maybe he even tied you down and made you watch as he raped each and everyone of them, and then killed them. It doesn't matter. Not today. Use your head, son. This-" he said gesturing to Keffa "-this is all bigger than you, or me, or family issues." There was a firmness in Vahanian's voice as he said "I got to your precious child once before, don't make me do it again." He saw the fear and the worry flicker through Valian's eyes. His voice softened ever so slightly as he said "If after this is all done, you still want to hunt him down and try to kill him, fine be my guest. I'll arm you and let you loose. But not today. Go after him again, before this is over, and I promise you, I will kill you."

Duncan Blackstone

Temple Square

Duncan allowed Valian to be dragged away he raised his hands mockingly at the Obian Duke “He is all your’s Duke, he’ll die sooner or later Stone, then she has nothing.”

Duncan waved with Valian’s cut off hand at the noble, who looked just about ready to charge...or faint, Duncan really could tell.

Duncan’s eyes lost their glow and the man appeared almost normal again as the Tenebris Cordis powered down and the potion started to wear off.

He turned and helped Dancer back up “Come on Lord, let’s get you to where you’re going.”

Fiorina Margaretener

Fiorina stoped weeping after a few days. Dried out and exhausted, whenever she closed her eyes she still could see her arrow, guided by a golden streak... right into the bowels of Gustav, the one-armed historian and former disciple of Xlair Silverblade. He was her Benefactor, Mentor, Father, Brother, Lover....

"GIVE ME BACK MY ARM YOU BASTARDS!" she heard him scream before the world went dark. Rumours say that Sir Gustav turned into several piles of goo but his lost arm still must be somewhere...

Timsen Quasath

Temple Dome

Timsen dreamed of Atamara in his youth and the bounds of the Cagilan Empire. He was walking the lands of his old family estate in Calis, playing in the soil and remembering the taste of the rich earth. Calis was a busy city, a trading city, so smells and sounds of far-away places was common. Timsen had felt the lure of travel early in his life, and often wandered off to play wherever he could. Those were good memories.

Timsen didn't so much as awake as transition to another mood. Memories of himself as a baby shifted into rising green power. Good or bad had changed into one thing, the Green. Timsen was okay with that.

Then came another burst of feeling, of mood. Joy. Sheer, almost overwhelming, pure ecstasy. Timsen's frail physical body grunted once, softly, which alerted his captain and all his Slingers immediately, as that was the first thing he had done in a few days. Spiritually, though, he was flying! Joy seemed to be a natural pairing with the Green, and they spun around each other like a double-helix. Timsen flowed with it. He had no choice.

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

She looked up at the two women. There was still no sign of Viviene and far too much corrupting magiks flying and seeping into the column.

"It seems we are past having a choice. Let us see what we can achieve."

Summer Evening

Ryosuke Guile

Riding into the city of Keffa just as the sun sets, Ryosuke sits on his roan courser at the head of the finally completed Dawnguard.

Resplendent in the finest arms and armour that are available anywhere to man, the one-hundred man strong unit is crisp and clean in their march with not a speck of dust to be seen on their sable cloaks or their emerald tabards. Their formation shows their immaculate training at Beluaterra's Best Infantry recruitment center in Firbalt, and nothing escapes the predatorial gazes coming from behind their fox-spirit masks.

"Erich, you know the drill. Keep on my tail, and all foreigners at bay. You have the list of acceptables. Now, hop to!" the young Hierophant quietly orders his new Captain as he nudges his horse to move a bit quicker. With a quick clicking noise, the smartly dressed Captain of the Dawnguard along with the ninety-nine other men of the unit pick up their pace to match Ryosuke's as he bee-lines straight for the Temple Square.

Passing the reins of his trusty steed off to Grik when he arrives, Ryosuke waits but a moment as the men fall into rank around him and begin their procession towards the ritual area of Gardener Bernard and Ambassador Alice. A small gesture Ryosuke's his hand, and his men filter out to bolster the surrounding cordon line.

"Greetings, Ambassador Alice, and Bernard Greenthumb. I trust all has been safe in my absence? What is the status of things now?" the silver-masked ruler of Irondale asks softly in his lilting voice.

Sadona Vilanova

The Daleish Corner

Sadona entered the garden, and inhaled deeply, the scent of the flowers and plants filling her nose, driving out the harshness of the grill smoke. She wandered briefly, revelling in the beauty of the Garden, before finding Alice. The two exchanged whispered words, and Sadona approached Bernard, holding out a dagger for him.

"The Blood of a Piper, let it water the garden." Sadona spoke solmenly, as Bernard noticed the dagger was coated in blood. The blood of Esdalot. She had to break off before more damage could be done, but she had not been noticed in the crowd.

"Let the Gardens glow bright."

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

Temple Square - Ar Agyr

The Agyrian Fusileers circled northwards through the streets surrounding the Temple square, a rotating swarm of disciplined squads providing cover as the Queen and her advisors made their way to the Temple of Obeah. Aibhidhn knew Lord Paridithous and his marksmen was somewhere in the city but as of yet she'd not seen his banner, Hopefully he'd have the good sense to also make for the centre of the incident.

"Do you think this is wise Ma'am?" Aelwyn had been nervous since realising the extent of the sorceries unleashed in the city.

"Come now lad, you're not scared of a few coloured lights are you," Captain Caedberga nudged him with her elbow, "wait until you see a real portal with daimons streaming from it."

Aelwyn was too young to remember the last Invasion.

"Leave the boy alone, he's right to be concerned," Aibhlidhn clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly, "but don't worry lad, we've faced worse than this and lived to tell the tale."

A pity the same couldn't be said for many of those who'd marched with them on those bloody campaigns.

Paridithous von Hammersmark

Lord Paridithous had been on the outskirts of the ongoing incidents. Having found a passable inn he had requisitioned the topmost floors for his men and posted sentries on the roof.

He had been in the middle of playing cards with his captain when one of the sentries comes running down from his post. "The Queen mi'lord! I've spotted the Queen's banners! She makes for the temple district!"

Paridithous had literally no clue what was happening in the city, and figured inserting himself into the Chaos would only heighten it. His Queen though.. she would know what to do. He gave the orders to his captain, who swiftly started yelling at the men.

"Double time you ingrates, we're leaving! Light load, bring your weapons and armor and nothing else. You, scout! Run to the Queen and report that we will shortly be falling in line behind her."

A flurry of activity erupted as the Avian Assault Squad swiftly made their preparations to leave.

Moira

The Temple

Moira raised her left arm and let her fingers trail through the turbulent energies of the Flow, leaving complex tangles of movement in their wake as the the two travellers once more followed the Path of Conviction towards the twin columns of etheric brilliance. At first the Flow resisted but with each step her fingers seemed to cut ever easier through the storm, harvesting the primal energy of the higher dimensions and channelling it through her body to the luminous blade thence to its twin in the mortal realm.

The thrill of being so fully exposed to the catastrophe was verging on pure ecstacy and it took all of Moira's self-control not to surrender herself to it. This was the raw thought-stuff of creation, boiling with infinite possibilities and untainted by the base considerations of flesh and form. Many an inexperienced traveller had made the mistake of listening to its silent promises of power, losing themselves eternally in that raging maelstrom of psychic violence. It would be so easy... To just let go of her mortal form and claim the power of a god!

No!!! That was not her heart-self. That was the facies of the maelstrom hungering for fresh thoughts, untapped possibilities to consume as surely as they would warp and remould flesh and spirit to their inconstant desires!

"Let the Hand's will be done," Moira muttered the familiar prayer, eyes fixed on the stones ahead of her, reasserting her commitment to the oath she had sworn long ago. To mete justice without fear or favour. The moment passed and she relaxed into her role as conduit.

The streams of sorcerous energy emanating from Keffa up-below were mixing with the eddies emanating from her fingers, mixing and swirling with the power she was drawing from the Flow, and as they did so the city's spires were increasingly limned with a warm green lustre. There was a power there, burrowing itself deep into the earth, awakening memories of a lost idyll, older even than lost Fontan, raising memories of a distant childhood amidst the glorious domes of Cagil. Memories of four siblings whose destinies unbeknownst to them lay far from the land of their birth...

Aelanta Peregrine

Aelanta was back in Keffa, a regiment of young female warriors in her tow. Lightly armoured, each carrying a pack of vicious javelins and short spears for melee. The amazons wore high helmets crested with bronze beaks and falcon wings to honour the sigil of house Peregrine. Smaller wings were attached to their leather sandals. Not very practical, but definitely eye-catching.

The crowds parted as the women made their way to the temple square. Aelanta new her way in the city well. She treaded this cobblestone on so many occasions. So many pivotal points of her life were linked to these streets. And it looked like another one was right behind the corner. "We stand with you, Your Majesty." Reported Aelanta, as she and her warriors caught up with Queen Aibhlidhn and her royal guard.

Come what may. There was no fear, no doubts. This time at least Aelanta knew she stood for what she truly believed in. She stood against all that was occult and unclean. She stood with the humanity.

Aaron

"Your humble servant pray before Daishi and Priest Yao Ling.

Lo, there do we see our fathers. Lo, there do we see our mothers. Lo, there do we see our sisters and our brothers. The line of our people back to the beginning. They do call to us to take our places Where the brave live forever."

Kristina Chamberlain

Temple

It had been a matter of hours but the seething energies had continued to grow, bulging ominously at the constraints of the net she had created. Moira seemed fully at home, blade flashing with a level of abandon she knew was far more in her own mind than in Moiras actions.

The blood magiks and the dark arcana of the Cultists were palpable stains weighing heavily, but as she reached out to call to them, the waves of nausea and displacement that followed gave her pause that she would be challenged to control their exit. Yao Ling had great experience with portals and magic, but Kristina was weary not to send an errant casting while they were in the infancy of yet another bastardised use of magics.

Instead she pulled on the cooler blue tinged threads, she was unsure of the tradition they belonged too but they had a feel of rushing water and for the briefest moment she felt she could smell the scents of the arbour of the White Tree.

Her plan, for what it was worth, had been to denature the magics to their most basic primal forms and... and do what.... send raw magic at Yao Ling and hope not to set a plague of monsters or simply vaporise the poor woman.

She sank to her knees, the weight of the energies she had already absorbed coupled with the blue energies she was attempting to channel away from the conduit increasing the pressure on what she knew in reality was only a shadow of her actual self, but at this time felt as heavy as stone.

She extended a finger of the primal energy to bond with the blue lights. The golden primal flames were completely amalgous, their purpose was to be defined and essentially tagging the blue threads she attempted to nature the primal fire, allowing the flow of the energies to coalesce into something more tangible. Fire and stone were not options, and the energies were such that their physicality removed the possibility of wind... so water it was, a wave over her feet, rising swiftly until she could feel its coldness at her chest.

Beginning to panic she tried to focus on the image of Yao Ling in the temple, releasing the waters with a silent apology to the high priestess. It could be a light mist, or a dangerous deluge, she had no way of knowing, but she prayed that Yao Ling would have a plan of how to deal with it regardless.

Dreams of Flowers

You are walking through fields of sunflowers, marigolds, daffodils, and goldenrod.

Awakening from another dream, you feel eager for the day.

13th October

Summer Day

Wren

Temple Square - Ar Agyr

As she watched, the Queen's retinue formed up and began to purposefully navigate the plaza, heading directly toward the columns.

They will do right.

The little woman waited and timed her foray into the seething throng of people just as the retinue passed her vantage. She began to follow, closely as foam in their wake, toward the pulsing, eerie lights.

I hope Nerta is there...

Jheda Orobar

The Square
Thalmarkin corner

The meat on the grill was singing its delicious sizzling song, smoke full of promise rose up and crawled across the square like a snake looking for prey. Jheda turned his head in the direction of the fire when the smell hit his nose. For a moment, he forgot what he was doing. The secretion of saliva in his mouth switched to overdrive, making him drool a little. The growling sound escaping from his stomach scared a few people nearby, and reminded him he hadn't eaten all day. He saw a few nobles from Thalmarkin, probably as hungry as him, around Esdalot, who seemed to be the one doing the cooking. Their troops were organised in a defensive circle, as if they feared someone would steal their food.

After asking those with him if they wanted to join him, no one could or should make important decisions on an empty stomach after all, he made his way to the fire. Being recognised as Thalmarkin's Judge, he was granted passage without any trouble. Jheda ordered his own men to reinforce the circle around them, giving the explicit order no one was to be given passage without his permission. Behind the grill, Esdalot seemed to be in some kind of trance. Jheda approached him, looking at the food in admiration.

"Esdalot, I didn't know you did this. You should have told me sooner. You see, I'm a bit of a grill master myself." Jheda reached for two documents. "Here, two of my family's most secret, and sacred possessions. The first one's a recipe for a dry rub, the second for a marinade. I have everything you need right here," he said, pointing at a satchel filled with jars and vials. "I never leave home without this. If you use this right, even the Gods beyond the Veil will salivate."

Jheda handed everything over, hoping this would turn out to be the gorging of a lifetime. The wet saliva spot on his chest grew bigger and bigger.

Yao Ling Pryde

The Temple

Yao Ling frowned and looked away from her incantations as a rushing sound from the column of light caught her attention.

The spray caught her totally be surprise and drenched her in a second.

Water. It was spewing out water. Water.

Yao Ling blinked. She'd been prepared for magic but... water? What was she supposed to do with water? More importantly, what COULD she do with water? She was in a giant hole. She was at the bottom of a crater with a temple built on top of it. And it was filling up with water.

What was she supposed to do with water?

Neptune. Of course. Neptune. He did water.

Yao Ling fumbled through her pockets and grabbed the icon of Atlas. Atlas and Neptune fought on the same side. Usually. Sometimes. When they weren't fighting each other. Ah, it was close enough.

"Neptune, hear me!" Yao Ling shouted over the roar of water as she held the wolf sword in one hand, the icon of Atlas in the other, and called on the power they both represented. Then she bent the magic surrounding her into a flow that shot through the chamber door, fell up the stairs, and pumped out the temple's western gate into the square beyond.

Considering all the stuff that had happened in the square recently, she could see it getting a good cleaning. She could visualize it. She could imagine it rather vividly in fact.

Nearby Arrest!

Within Keffa, Wren was arrested by Scarlett Rose, Countess of Fikman.

Summer Evening

Moira

Moira had been so lost in carefree childhood memories that for a moment she didn't notice Kristina stumbling to her knees. It was a novice's mistake, to let the facies suck at her concentration like that, and she cursed her foolishness. Kneeling she tapped the Priestess on the shoulder and tasted a little of the energy the younger woman had harvested, cold and wet and blue as the deep oceans.

"You don't have the strength to do this Kristina, not in this place," the former knight spoke gently, calming her panic the way a jockey might a thoroughbred racehorse, steadying the Priestess with her left arm as she helped her to her feet, "But you do have the strength to complete the ritual."

That was what mattered. Moira could channel the excess energy through the thirsting maw of Lannceann MacTíre but only Kristina could complete the complex web of enchantments necessary to activate the ritual and unmake the fold.

Viviane

The Temple Square

Valian felt his rage subside only slightly, he hated them, all of them, Duncan, Vahanian, this whole bloody city.

Valian nodded “I will tend to the Lady Viviane then, he cast one final glare at the grinning Duncan who waved Valian’s own dismembered hand at him with an evil grin.

Valian turned slowly, limping, ‘think, think, use my head, or I will lose it’ he thought to himself

Valian stopped “If I die, will you look after her?”

He looked back to Blint, his eyes pleading for an answer before sighing and walking back to his unit.

Tomasa was waiting, Haydrian had been taken to a healer and the unit was ready to move.

Valian nodded to the healer with his unit which bandaged the wound and gave him a healing draught.

He turned almost groggily to Vivane “Lady Emberhallow, let’s get you to the Temple before any other sh*te happens.”

Outside the Temple Square...Temple Square

Viviane had eaten a bowl of grits and had a glass of water. Feeling better, she had stood and her and Elizabeth were ready to continue the walk to the Temple with Valian as their escort.

Ehrich Weisz

Keffa
The square quarter of the Vales

Ehrich spent the early hours of the day trying to determine the nature and temperament of the harpist Dolores but as ever found her inscrutable. He turned to meditating on the nature of the shrine she had built and prayed it represented only good tidings. This branch of study was far from his favoured practical area of arcane study and was too close to mysticism, and he found himself wishing he had packed a text on druidism of the ancient times but alas the need had been to travel light.

After a morning that bordered on idleness he turned his attention to busy preparations for a tribute to Dolores' ritual, a hastily arranged replication of the Maypole celebrations popular in the Shattered Vales springtime. The ritual mainly celebrated crops prospering but that often brought associations with fertility rituals. Dusting off a neglected scroll from his collection he let out an unexpected short laugh, recalling the first time he had unknowingly unleashed this scrolls energies. At least our Obian friends might benefit from the population boost and perhaps it might confound those with violent intent dominating their hearts.

The Duke picked out the most good looking young village folk to lead a ritual of dance and song in praise of natural growth and regeneration amongst the people of the Vales assembled.