• Event • [Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

It is said that when the Immortal Treid was slain, his heart was buried in the shadows of the ice, cursed by the Immortal Audrae. His people built a city atop the frozen wasteland in hopes of one day finding it and resurrecting their fallen leader.

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Aeon
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Fri Dec 23, 2016 2:10 am

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One after another, one after another, one after another, constantly, death, blood, everywhere. On both sides, the ranks seemed to be lowering, except each time a shadow was killed in the enemy ranks, another would reappear, which was not the case for the mortal allies. Finally, Aeon had managed to make progress, but it wasn't long before he realized it was only because the Naerikk had been retreating to form a line in front of the tomb. That was it, and he knew it, not even with all the love of those Immortals back there, they couldn't break the line. The Naerikk acted as one, they thought as one, and fought as one, while there were dozens of different men and women opposing them.

Even without the endless horde of shadows, entering the tomb would be an impossible mission. But with them, the ranks of mortals seemed to be thinning down by the trill. No matter, the skyrider hadn't allowed himself to be overcome by the tactics and the likelihood of winning. He once survived a situation where death was a certainty, so why would this fight have to be different? All he could do was push on, and keep on slaying one beast after another, fighting one woman warrior after another. They were far better equipped and skilled than their enemies, and it was only a matter of time before death met all the good guys, or so-called good guys.

Somehow, at one point, Aeon was surrounded. He must not have been paying attention because of the immense adrenaline, or something similar to that. There was a Naerikk coming after him from his back, with the impenetrable wall of the women in front of him. He was as good as dead, and all he could see was blood splattered across the beautiful shining surface that they had all ruined. Treidhart must have been an astonishing city, he thought, in the moments he thought were his last. Then, out of nowhere, a good thing happened to a good person, and an arrow flew straight through the heart of the woman behind him. As she fell down, the young sergeant jumped over her lifeless body that was now pouring the hot blood onto the snow, only to take a look at the archer. He appeared to be waving for reinforcements. Were they really getting reinforcements? It appeared so, as two dozen ice giants and a dozen other mortals rushed from what looked like the walls of the city.

T'was about time. He thought, as he observed the circle-like object made from tall, blue figures and a small biqaj man. Then, once more, his blade and attention were pulled back into the fight, as a woman, not older than 20 arcs, waved her short axe towards his face. It took one movement of his sword to kill her, one quick thrust through her stomach, and she was choking on her own blood in an attempt to beg for life. She wasn't fit for combat. She was still too young, and too inexperienced. What monster made her do this?

"You knew only war in life, so I pray you find peace in death." Aeon said as he pulled his sword out of her body, and rested the young Naerikk on his knee. A sudden hatred surrounded him, and not for the warriors opposing him, but for whatever force made them do this. That made them run into their deaths, even such young ones, and then it occurred to him. Their force was no different than ours. There were younger ones on Aeon's side than the Naerikk he just killed, and the Immortals seemed fine with it. There are no good Immortals. They're all selfish bastards willing to do anything to accomplish their goals. No more. He let the woman down as her eyes whitened, and he lay some bloody snow over her, to at least give her some sort of burial.

"That is very pointless thing you do, know that? She not do that for you, if you die." One of the giants said, but much unlike the others, his voice sounded natural. He appeared to know he was speaking Common, instead of his mother tongue. Could've the rest of them been under the influence of the Immortals? But he did have a point, no Naerikk would've given him any sort of post-death honor. Still, that made the difference between the two groups. Aeon had honor. They did not. The Immortals did not.

"I know." He said, with a serious look filled with anger and desire for all of it to end in the one eye he had, while the blue giant only smiled at him. He seemed to find it all funny. What kind of maniac would find his own homeland's destruction funny? Or did the Ellune have some other meaning for smiling. Several meters away, Faith was heard with another one of her speeches, and another good one, he had to admit. And yet a speech would not win a battle. Skill and strategy would, and the Naerikk were beating them in both.

He still came, and followed up on her plan to break the left flank, but their odds were slim, too slim for Aeon's liking. He needed to do something, or they would've died. There were very little people still guarding the walls, and if the walls were breached, the healers were screwed. But they couldn't protect the walls since all the meaning to this war was in the Tomb of Treid. And they couldn't breach it because they needed more men. It all ran in a circle. A circle. An endless one. That thought light a spark within the skyrider's mind, as an idea came to him finally. An insane, stupid one, but an idea. Their charge wasn't going to break the wall before they were surrounded by shadow monsters from behind, and Naerikk in the front, but what if someone managed to get through the wall? Just one person, one person that had considerable experience with the blade, and with overwhelming enemies, that could make a disruption in the organization that the women had in place, for just one trill? One trill would be enough, Aeon hoped.

"Hey, hey you. How far do you think you could throw me?" The skyrider told the man with the large spear in his hands, one that was still happy about something, oddly enough. Being happy was one thing, but in the very first trills of him hearing Aeon's idea, he went into laughter. He must have thought it was a joke, until the sergeant's cold expression made it obvious that it wasn't. He had officially gone mad, and he knew it. But the Ellune man seemed to like that fact, as he called another, probably a friend, since no one but a friend would have faith in such a plan.

"Alright, we are ready when you are. What is your name, crazy man?" The giant said, as he and his buddy crossed their arms ready to hold onto Aeon's feet. Oh he was insane, only an insane person could come up with something like that.

"Aeon. Go tell the- whoever is leading the men, to charge at my signal." Placing one boot over one of the giant's forearms, and holding onto his shoulder with his one hand, which also held his sword, the skyrider once more thought about the attack of sheer madness he had experienced before coming up with this plan. What was he even doing? He was going to land in the middle of the Naerikk and die in trills.

"And what would that signal be?" He said, but it was too late, they were already launching the blond man into the air right in front of the Naerikk's noses. And he was flying. HE WAS FLYING. He was bloody flying over the women which seemed to not know what to do. They weren't raising their weapons at him, and time appeared to have stopped as he was reaching the end of their second line. Just one more to go, he thought, but then realized that he was going to land on top of the third line. Like, directly on top of them. He could hear some gasps in the distance as he flew, and the Ellune madman who allowed this to happen shout his name, but he didn't catch it. Who would, while they were flying over heavily armed and expertly trained killer women. FLYING!

It seemed to have been a break before the longsword the King of Rynmere gave him pierced the unsuspecting Naerikk near the left end of the third line. Unfortunately, the landing wasn't as great as Aeon had imagined it, and well, he had landed on top of her, while also sliding several feet with his head in her-. Blasted Immortals, blasted Naerikk, blasted war! He thought as he ran his way into a standing position while his back faced a wall and several of the warriors from the third line had began to surround him. Perhaps that plan wasn't as great as he thought?

Oh how bloody lucky he was at that very moment to hear the horn go off in the distance, and the long echo of the one word that could've saved him. They were breaching the right flank, and it'd be trills before several of the mortal guardians of Treidhart, which included Velma, breached the left one. He could've managed to fight off the three Naerikk that came first towards him, but without the charge at the right flank, he would've been dead as soon as the second wave of them came through for him. Oh was he one lucky son of a bitch that trial. Unless of course, the right flank charge got shut down..in which case, he would've been one dead son of a bitch.
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"A hero is someone who steps up when everyone else backs down"
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Tei'serin Nji'ryn
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Fri Dec 23, 2016 5:55 am

Tei'serin quickly came to realize that her knowledge of herbs was of very little use in this place that was locked in snow and ice. The herbs she knew could never thrive in conditions this harsh. And if there were any herbs that could, Tei'serin knew nothing about them. Although she had brought a few supplies with her through the portal, most of those were gone now.

No one had the time to teach her how to use the medicines they had, so it was up to Tei'serin to find something else she could do to make herself useful. By watching the other healers work, she learned how to do simple things like clean and bandage small wounds so that a mildly injured fighter could go back out to fight. She also learned how to determine if a wound needed to be sutured instead of bandaged. Those injuries required a more skilled healer than she, but she did stay help out as best she could. If a patient had multiple injuries, she was often called upon to put pressure on one in an attempt to stem the bleeding while a better healer worked on a more critical injury.

If a patient's injuries were mild enough, or if their wounds varied in severity, Tei'serin would try to use her abilities on the the small injuries while a real healer saw to the more serious ones. And if someone had come into contact with a poisoned blade, or claw, her ability to drain toxins out of a person came in handy as well. But using her abilities was exhausting, and she found that she couldn't use them more than a few times without needing to rest.

She had another duty as well. Many of the fighters who were brought to the healing shelter couldn't be saved; their injuries were too severe. The healers couldn't afford to spend time with them, offering the comfort of another as the dying warriors faded out of life. But Tei'serin could, and she did. When she wasn't helping with minor injuries, or fetching things for the healers who were more skilled than she was, she would find herself by the side of one of the lost.

She prayed to Moseke for them, asking her to ease them out of life as painlessly as possible since they could not be saved. She also talked to them. Many begged her to tell a loved one what had become of them, or felt the need to tell her about themselves so that they would be remembered when they were gone. Tei'serin held their hands as they wept from their agony, and sang to them, or told them stories in an attempt to distract them from their suffering.

And there were a few that begged her to put them out of their misery. One of the healers had told Tei'serin that a gut wound was the worst possible way to die. If a person's bowels were punctured, and their wound wasn't large enough to cause them to bleed out quickly, they would be slowly poisoned by the contents of their bowels leaking out into their body. It could take trials for a person with such an injury to die. Long, trials filled with unbearable agony. So if asked by someone who had an injury that would abandon them to such a fate, Tei'serin would end their life with her katana. She had no skill with the blade, and would be useless in a fight, but she could draw the blade across a person's throat if they weren't resisting, and had, in fact begged her to do it. Even then, it wasn't the near instant death that it could have been had she known what she was doing. But it was faster than the alternative would have been. Especially after one of the injured fighters told her that if she slit the jugular vein, death would be swift, and showed her where to cut.

Tei'serin might have been horrified at the thought of killing a person if it weren't for one thing. In doing so, she was ending their suffering. If a horse broke its leg, it was put down to spare it needless suffering. Likewise, a rabid animal was killed both to protect any people near by, and to put it out of its misery. This was no different than that. But she would only do it if asked.
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Jachiel
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Fri Dec 23, 2016 4:51 pm

Jachiel was on his knees beside a badly bleeding patient when his old battle instincts flared. He spun on one knee, gladius screaming out of its sheath and up in a defensive arc through two shadowy mist men before he had time to think. Battle surged over him and round him and away again, and he hissed through his teeth. Slamming his gladius back into its sheath the moment the fighting was gone again, he slammed his hand back down on the wound, but it was too late to save that patient. Instead, he was called to drag bodies clear of the tents. He waded through bloody mud and slush, grateful for the boots that kept it from soaking his feet, and grabbed bodies by collars and limbs. He hauled each one clear and went back for another, closing his mind to the implications of the task. Just a load to haul, and another, and another, and another...

One of the remaining healers caught him between loads. Rapid fire questioning brought out the limits of his very basic battlefield medicine, but it was clearly enough for the healer, who shoved him towards a makeshift surgery table. For Jachiel, it became mostly a task of holding a writhing patient still enough for the healer to work, using hand, arm, body-weight, and any other safe method he could find. He clamped shoulders to the table while the healer straightened and splinted broken arms. He held down thighs and hips while crushed legs were amputated. He put pressure on one wound while the healer stitched another. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get the blood out of his coat, but that seemed a very small thing to focus on in the cold and chaos of the tent, and the table, and the ever changing situation under his hand.
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Pegasus
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Sat Dec 24, 2016 1:53 am

Attention All Healers!
The healers and those working in the healers' tent have a spin off thread from this one. Please, therefore, turn your attention here and may Famula and Vri have pity on your souls.

~Peg!
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"Red in hoof and claw....."
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Rita Fenyo
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Sun Dec 25, 2016 1:32 am

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Rita
Running straight to the aid of the immortal Rita barely took the time to process what was going on. Someone yelled out but she did not hear, Symbri was turned into a massive stag it was all very interesting, however, Rita was focused on one thing, the dying immortal. The wound was below his rib cage so his vitals were fine, bleeding badly she’d have to stitch and cauterise fast and-
A tall woman moved in front of the Ithecal blocking her from approaching the immortal. Her hair appeared to radiate light, eyes shining like the sun's themselves, both imposing and elegant clad in heavy armour forged in a way Rita was not familiar with. At the same time, it was hard to feel intimidated by the woman, she had a friendly face and when she spoke it was soft and melodic
“You can not help him, young one.” Rita watched her for a moment, gathering both her breath and the courage to speak out against the immortal.
“I have to try. I can try and help him.” The immortal simply smiled at the Ithecal.
“I admire your enthusiasm young one, but we are very different from your kind-”
“How different? I can figure it out as I go you can talk me through it.” Rita interrupted, the immortal went to reply but both were distracted by a dull thud. Someone had tripped over the body and knocked themselves out. I could get past her She made as if to move but a hand fell on Rita’s right arm, just below the shoulder.
“We will help him. You are strong, your brothers and sisters need your help back with the healers.” Rita went wide-eyed, knowing of the attackers descending on the healers, anyone in their way being slaughtered.
“Go now.” She did not hesitate, did not argue. Rita ran drawing her stave and moving faster than she ever had before, filled with energy and battle-orientated grace.
Screams ripped the still night, the healer's area a chaotic mess as warriors rushed to defend whatever foe they were facing. Rita rounded the corner and froze, standing over a slain human was a beautiful woman. She was covered in blood and it was her axe in the man’s skull, eyes turning to Rita and smiling, removing the axe and casually walking towards the Ithecal. She did not move, heart beating faster as the woman moved into the light showing her leather clad body and painted skin.
“You scared little snake. Scared of me, scared of death, what is to happen to your pitiful little world. “ Rita watched, knowing that behind her an archer was taking aim. Though she wasn't sure how she knew that.
“Not really beautiful. Sorry about this “ She dropped to the floor, an arrow zipping past overhead. The woman moaned as it sunk into her chest. Looking up at the archer as a second struck her below the sternum. Gasping in pain and sinking into the snow, withering as she bled out. The archer jogged over, Rita moving out the way as the archer put a third into the woman’s head.
“Come on up you get, healer. Can you use that thing? “ Motioning to the stave as he helped Rita stand, she nodded and the archer beckoned to follow leading them into the camp. A soldier in light plate stabbing an attacker through her chest, arching into the blade, head rolling to the side.
“ Howard, look after this healer, she can fight.” Taking off as the soldier walked on, beckoning Rita to keep close.
A war cry to her left made Rita turn, stave coming up and deflecting a sword meant for her head, the attacker moving with speed and fury trying to get past the Ithecals block. Rita backing away, knowing the soldier was behind her but unable to approach, twisting slightly to the left moving the woman to the right before dropping down and swiping her stave into the lower chest. The woman stumbled winded, not seeing the blade swipe across her chest, screaming in pain before a blade through her left breast and into her heart silenced her. Rita charged forward, knocking the soldier out of the way of a thrown dagger, springing up and smashing her stave into the side of the attackers head. Blood spraying onto Rita, causing her to freeze up, looking at the dead woman at her feet.
“Hey, stay with me. These Naerikk are out to kill us all, so it’s us or them.” Rita closed her eyes, listening to the goings on and steadying herself. It took longer than she would have liked, opening her eyes and wiping the blood of her stave.
“I’m good, let’s push them back” She looked up to the soldier and around. “Gather all you can, we need to work as a group to push them back, stick close and cover each other. So far they are splitting us up and taking us out one by one. Working as a group we have a chance.” She surprised even herself with that bout of knowledge. Though at this point she just went with it.
The solder and Ithecal moved together, covering each other and managing to collect a score of other warriors. Naerikk and shadow beast were already on the back foot and organising themselves this way made it easier to push them out and away from the vulnerable medics. Rita was separated from the rest for only a moment, her stomach sank and she tried to move but even with Qylios’ boon, she was too slow. A sword cut down on the Ithecal, a shallow cut along her right arm. Three Naerikk and a handful of shadow beast pushing back the main force with Rita being pushed back by one very angry warrior.
“You killed my sister you fucking whore!” She knew she was alone in this fight, just knowing that her allies would be working to fight off the overwhelming numbers. This Naerikk was out for vendetta. In any other circumstance, it was quite hot.
“You know what, do we have to fight? We can go back to my place for a few drinks, get to know each other a bit.” The woman stopped advancing looking incredibly confused. Rita both knew of the other Naerikk approaching from behind and the archer taking aim at them.
“Are you flirting with me?” She stalled watching her battle sister approaching her pray.
“Yeah you’re quite beautiful really. “ Rita ducked to the side, blade missing her as the Naerikk feel forward with an arrow through her shoulder blades. The other charged forward, blade going clean through Rita’s stave, cleaving it in twain. Rita changed stance using both half’s as batons, trying to shift her attacker into the archers but she was wise to it, keeping Rita in between them. She had a good quality sword, hacking pieces out of the strengthened stave, the wood could only stand so much and it had already been through a lot. Rita was lucky that her attacker was too enraged to concentrate. The blade swiping across her midsection, but only just, moving in for the kill but missing that the Ithecal’s armoured. Stave smashing her shin bone, Rita bringing the other half up into a sensitive area. Coiling around the woman and squeezing tight. Hissing in anger and biting down on her neck, slowly tightening as Rita let her adrenaline and anger take over. Long nails clawing at the snake hiding to no avail. Rita looked away as she gave one final tense, slaying her attacker.
She was exhausted, the battle was over, but there was no time for rest. Dead, dying and wounded littered the area around the medical tents from both sides.
“Start getting the wounded inside.” She called to the nearest group of people. “Even if they are Naerikk they get treatment and taken as prisoners. No murdering!” Uncoiling from the dead woman, unaware of how intimidating she appeared. Only after Qylios’ boon wore off did she realise how bruised she was, the cut on her wound not serious but she was in a lot of pain from the fighting. She had something for the pain, her wounds not bad enough to stop her helping in the tents.
Off Topic
OOC - Maltruism gave me permission for some brief comments from Qylios, and to temporarily have some "Bonded" battle skills per her boon.
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Thu Dec 29, 2016 8:08 am

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With the coming of dawn, so came Ymiden; gliding with the line of dawn's light to the portal site like the bright warmth heralding night's end. Though he had no actual power to bolster the hope of those around him, his obvious goal brought a last surge of desperate optimism to those gathered around the ever-graying features of Xiur.

Those located in more distant theaters may have noticed that the dawn there seemed somewhat dim. But it was more likely that they were too focused on battle to make such distinctions. Ymiden took much of the energy of the newly cast rays of morning into his hands, which filled with radiance until they were like starfire; possessing an intensity at which mortal eyes could do no more than glance.

Even Qylios squinted, her head turned partially away, as Ymiden knelt beside his stricken fellow. He looked up at the gathered mortals, "Stand away, good sentinels; there will be heat." He waved gently to the retreating group, urging them back until they would suffer no more than a mild sunburn. When this was achieved, he began.

If eyes could have endured the vision, they'd have seen his hands seem to meld with Xiur's body, as he slowly guided them in and around the wound. His own gaze shifted regularly; now to the sky, now to the body of Xiur, first his face, then his wound, now back to the dawn, which paled once again for a brief moment as his hands flared with renewed power. His eyes stayed closed for the most part, but when they opened, the sun shone through them. Yet this flare was not blinding to see. It was more as if the light of the sun was contained within, and could be seen, but did not shine back into the eyes which beheld it.

Slowly this brightness waned. But as it was spent, Ymiden's very body began to glow. he began a chant in the ancient tongue, and the glow slowly transferred into Xiur's seemingly lifeless body. All at once Xiur screamed, and arched his back as if in great pain. He held that position for grim moments, then slumped back limp to the ground. Yet now his breathing could clearly be seen.

Ymiden too, fell prone, if not completely comatose from the effort. The light seemed to travel through the surface of the ground as if an explosion of luminescence detonated just inches below the surface, spreading now unhindered in all directions. Eventually, the light of the dawn and the ground balanced properly, and the Lord of Dawn sat up, spent and sweating profusely, despite the chill. He gestured to Xiur's sleeping body, "He will recover in time. but do not expect him to actually wake for a few trials yet. Hope for no additional need from me either, good cousin." he said with a tired smile to Qylios, who seemed almost on the verge of tears for her brother's salvation. "For I am spent."
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Also growing exhausted with effort were the two Immortals perched upon the roof of the structure containing Treid's Tomb. Lisirra and Aelig, their powers in a constant state of expenditure for seasons in preparation, trials of intense fusion of natures, and now a cycle of reckless release, found their shadowy minions finally beginning to grow thin. Though there was no further need to focus their will on the beasts ravaging distant cities any further, those they had brought to Oscillus were looking to risk falling agonizingly short of fulfilling their purpose here.

"It was brilliant to...'recruit' Audrae and her warriors to bolster our tide of shadow. Their numbers turned out to be needed after all. I wish now we'd have brought more of our own, though. I dislike having to count of Audrae's cooperation. She may be an ally of sorts to our dear Syroa, but methinks this relationship has now soured. So far, she has done as bidden, and we should be gaining our triumph shortly, but I will rest easier once we have it, and we can part ways with her."

Aelig nodded as she spoke, but seemed more focused on the shifting fronts of battle below. Lisirra followed his gaze, as best as such could be discerned from his chaotic facelessness. Her own voice now growled as she scowled, "They'd better hurry. Our followers are getting the worst of it now. Soon it will be only the Naerikk left to hold them out of the tomb." She closed her eyes in concentration for a moment, then opened them with a sigh, "Well, I have driven the last of our forces to move to the tomb now as well. Our misguided enemies, and their pitiful minions seem to have finally realized our goal...Too late." she added with a musical flourish of voice and hand.

She caught odd gestures from her companion, and sighed, "No, this is the last of them, other than those still ransacking a few towns, and they will be finished off before much longer, curse that Faldrun! Once again, he strikes down what he considers "unsanctioned" strategy, even when it would benefit him more than any. He comes rushing his fire-brained fools into Ne'haer. He fights our enemy cousins, hand to hand, while at the same time his minions and his flames destroy whole ranks of our forces like so much steam. Whose side is that hot-head supposed to be on, anyway?"

Her angry reverie was interrupted by more gestures from Aelig, her eyes gleamed with malice at his meaning. "You CAN? Oh wonderful, my boy!..." Then a look of mild consternation crossed her face to end up as a resigned shrug. "Oh well, it's better than nothing. I can't imagine we need more than an additional break to see our efforts rewarded in full."
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Below these two, within the walls of the structure, Audrae and Syroa, stood over the tomb itself, eyes agleam with two different sources of anticipation. The body of Treid, it's chest open like any icy chasm to be found on this frigid continent, lay before them on an icy dais. Syroa hissed in eagerness, ordering Audrae to fulfill her part of their agreement.

This was accomplished with surprising ease, as just placing the heart in the cavity seemed to trigger the body's response to reorient it with its flesh and functions. Audrae quietly shushed Syroa, advising patience while the Immortal body of Treid regained its operative waking functionality. The eyes opened slowly, blinked, and again a moment later, starting to roll to the sides, as it took in the company it currently kept.

Treid sat up slowly, finding bonds of shadow holding his limbs otherwise immobile. His eyes locked primarily on Audrae, who backed away, her eyes seeming to find it difficult to meet and hold Treid's guarded gaze. Syroa grew angry quickly at having the target of her schemes dismiss her as less of a concern than the Mother of Augiery. The slap across Treid's face was only the beginning of the torments she would inflict upon the newly reawakened Immortal. "My dear Treid, it would serve me in one way for you to come clean without delay as to the details you have learned of...Delana. But I cannot deny, I hope to find you UNcooperative! Please don't disappoint me, you sweet boy."

She allowed this to glean its reaction from the Ice Lord. She laughed like breaking glass, "Good good! Denial! I had so hoped you would force me to use coercion upon you! So tell me...Do you think you have the right to gain such knowledge as that of our collective mother and keep it from the rest of us? Who do you think you are to be such selfish young brat? Let us see how much it takes to make you see reason, shall we? Oh, I am quite certain I can bring you to feel genuine...regret. I have no doubt you will soon be begging for forgiveness...Screaming for it, even."

Audrae looked upon them both without pity, the gleam of anticipation growing in her eyes as well...
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Outside the walls, at the door to the internal halls of this same building, the Naerikk forces still held, but were hard pressed to maintain for long. Treid's screams were not at first recognized for what they were, amid the screams of the combatants outside. One armored warrior flew into the midst of the shadow forces, taking down a few around him, but finding himself quickly outnumbered by naerikk.

What may or may not have been a horn signal by the heroic forces, turned quickly to be retreat command by the Naer warriors. The front rank went into a suicidal forward push, driving the heroic forces back in a frenzy of aggressive carnage. The back ranks made a fast and smooth retreat into the entrance, dragging the captured warrior with them, as they abandoned the last of the shadow forces to eventual annihilation, along with the sacrificed forward rank of naerikk women. By the time they were finally dispatched, they'd shown how dearly naerikk losses would count against any that came against them. None could get past them soon enough to prevent the rest from safely retreating into the tomb.

But before the door closed, to be quickly barred by cold steel, the shrieks of Treid's suffering poured through the briefly open door. The heroic forces froze for a heartbeat at this realization. The dark forces of the invaders did not however, and the captured hero was pulled to his feet and shoved through the doorway into the pitiless halls beyond. One commander of the dark forces sneered at the captured warrior. "Look sisters! The flying hero has gotten his wings clipped, poor boy...I am certain my lady can find a use for you, nonetheless. I'm sure you will make her proud!"

It was doubtful that Aeon, the captured warrior, found much comfort in the words...
word count: 1698
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Ti'niva
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Thu Dec 29, 2016 2:22 pm

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As his allies charged the line it became increasingly difficult to shoot the enemy from his position. He looked around him and only one idea came to him. He grimaced as he put his idea into action, he placed his hands on top of the dead giant and pulled himself up onto his fallen comrade. Stood atop this he could see over his allies forces and shoot easier into the lines of warrior women. Ti readied his bow loosing an arrow into the mess of warriors. It struck a woman in the shoulder knocking her off balance and opening her up to be chopped down by some unknown warrior.

As Ti drew another arrow something amazing happened. Ti place the arrow on the bow string as he watched a knight go flying over the top of the fight. It was both beautiful and amusing. The man seemed so happy with himself, but that happiness was short lived when he realised the lack of foresight in his decision. The man landed in the thick of the last line of women and the shadow beasts. Ti's amazement quickly turned to shock as he attempted to help the stranded knight. He fired two arrows in succession hitting two women as their backs turned to face the knight who attacked their rear.

He was very quickly over run by the woman and as they took him they seemed to retreat forcing the knight into the tomb. Ti saw the ranks spilt the front line attempting one last push against the allies and the others breaking off back to the tomb entrance. Which, upon the man being pushed in, was closed. Ti saw a gap to quickly push the reforming line at the entrance. He dropped himself down from the giant using his hand to slow his fall as he landed on the frozen ground.

He darted as fast as he could past the still fighting line and began to fire upon the reforming women. Arrow after arrow found place in a poor unsuspecting woman. The cluster was easy enough to hit and aiming at the neck head and abdomen appeared effective. Although Ti soon found himself short of arrows. He took his hand to his quiver to find a cluster of five. Five arrows that he had to save. He began to consider his next move carefully. Shadow beasts still ravaged the forces and even though they seemed to be thinning they were still a nuisance.

Something atop the tomb caught his eye, something he may regret spotting in the future. Two immortals perched there one he recognised and a pit of hate came in his heart. He may at times appear wise but he is still young and he can't help his hate of the immortal Lisirra. The fuel provided by his rage sent him running for the tomb.

He went around the edge of the woman ignoring them and keeping far enough away from their weapons. He flung himself at the side of the tomb scrambling and struggling to climb the icy structure. His feet found footing and he pushed his body up the surface struggling with his fingers to grip the ice. He kept climbing slipping here and there and almost falling twice but he reached the level of the immortals. Then it hit him, the nerves, he felt like he was going to vomit as he realised the peril he had put himself in. He climbed onto the surface and stood tall taking his bow in hand and drawing the arrow. He felt the prayer leave his lips, quite but there. "Oh Moseke, creator of my race, my saviour and my friend, I call on you to give me the strength now. Here I need it more than ever before, in the face of my ancestors demise I ask that you let me avenge all the fallen who have lost their lives and freedom because of these demons. In the name of Desnind and the Sev'ryn I fight and with your guidance and help I take this shot. I love this world and all the life in it and no time like the present to fight for this love." The Xanthean flowed from his lips fluidly and beautifully hushed yet like a scream and war cry in his heart.

He was sure this was his only chance to attack, he was amazed he had not been spotted, or had he and they just did not care. What threat was one mortal to two immortals really. The idea crossed his mind just too late and he loosed the arrow, it was driven by hate and a want for revenge on his ancestors, towards the female immortal. He felt his stomach churn and convuls as he watched the arrow. He grasped at the last part of his courage to stay standing and watch what came of this important and life changing arrow.
word count: 830
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Aeon
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Sun Jan 01, 2017 2:03 pm

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What for several trills seemed like a horn of hope, of help, and of survivability, ended up being nothing than death for the first row of the naerikk. As he was dragged into the tomb, only one thought would cross his mind, and it had a lot to do with the cruelty of the women's previous move. They just sacrificed a third of their own only so that their Immortal wasn't interrupted in whatever she was doing. She was an Immortal, if she wanted to, she could've saved all of her people. And what was she even doing? From what the young man could hear next to the constant buzzing of words coming from the naerikk, someone was being tortured down there.

Think, Aeon, think. He kept telling himself while examining the shadowy walls and the screams from inside the tomb. The man screaming could either be an Ellune that they were questioning for some sort of information, or Treid? He didn't know much about the Ellune people, or their Immortal, but if he had a tomb, wasn't he supposed to be dead? Can Immortals even die, considering they're, well, Immortal? Countless more questions came to the boy's mind as he considered what might happen next. It was fear talking, that was for sure, and if he was going to beat fear he needed to have hope. Not much hope to be had, being surrounded by the naerikk in a tomb along with their Immortal, with no weapon in hand. And to think, one of them held the sword that Aeon so masterfully wielded now.

One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to do whatever they wanted him to. It may be his death, but death was always better than betraying what you stood up for in life. And he was certain he'd die either way. As they ushered him towards what the scarred man presumed would be the location of their lady, he started considering other options. Options such as bringing the entire tomb down to the ground. Surely the Immortals that fought on the allies' side could do that, right? But then again, he was certain that many Immortals could do many different things to help out with the fight, and yet none of them did. It was just as he first thought. They were simply scapegoats. Well, this scapegoat wasn't going out without a fight.

"Hey...hey you. Mean lady holding my sword!" He said with a sharp tone, and yet a smile on his face, as he looked towards a woman that walked in front of him, her shoulders raised, her stance proud. As if a third of her comrades hadn't just died. Finally, she turned around, only with a dagger held right next to the boy's neck and mumbled something that seemed like a question. Every word the naerikk said sounded about the same. "You... you have something..." Aeon said, only to pause as he felt air stop where the woman pressed her metal blade against his neck. "...something in your teeth." As the words left his mouth, the boy managed to wrestle out of control the naer had against him, and punch her once straight in the face, before a spear touched his stomach to remind him he was outnumbered.

"Feisty. You do that again, and I might just not have the self-control to stop here." The commander who spoke to him first said now, holding her spear against his chest. Within the next moment they continued their walk, only for the boy to observe the woman he punched regain full awareness. It was one mean punch, he had to admit. Unfortunately for Aeon, she must have thought the same, as she turned around without hesitation, kicking him with her knee straight into the stomach, and watching him fall onto his knees from the sudden pressure. Several of the women shouted something the young man could not understand, some of them laughing, some of them angry. While Aeon, on the floor, felt like his cloak, which was now both red and black, because of the amount of blood spilled back on the battlefield, had been tied to his stomach after she kicked him. He struggled to breathe for several moments, but was pulled back up on his feet by two naerikk soldiers, and then pulled across the uncomfortable floor of the tomb, still waiting to catch his breath fully.

He didn't even get the opportunity to do so, as a new, bigger, room appeared before him, and as much as he tried to observe every part of it, all three of the Immortals and all of their actions, he could not shift his fearful gaze away from the monster that stood taller than him, with wings piercing her back and the orange-red skin, much like his scarred part of the face. He was afraid even before this, but he remained brave, alas, now that he had witnessed an Immortal so hideous, so frightening, he couldn't stop his hands from shaking, or the healthy side of his face from glowing in sweat as fear overcame him. Aeon kept telling himself to pull it together, to manage his fear, to remain brave, but it was good for nothing. The Immortals were a way scarier sight when you knew they are your enemies, and this made the young man's pupils dilate, and his knees weaken. He became an even heavier burden on the two narikk who still held him barely above the ground, waiting for him to catch his breath. That wasn't going to be any time soon.
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word count: 977
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"A hero is someone who steps up when everyone else backs down"
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Padraig
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Sat Jan 07, 2017 5:15 pm

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It was just as well that the Immortal of Hope was brought back to life, after Padraig had collected his sample of blood and was away with it. He felt conflicted already, having taken it when he believed the Immortal was irretrievably gone. He might have some explaining to do, had he been able to predict what came after.

But as it was, he'd become embroiled in the fighting at the tomb, and the flash of light that came with the resurrection was just another oddity in an already chaotic scene. Like part of a wedge, he fought his way through the press of opposing bodies, slashing, thrusting or even throwing punches at those who could see him, and those that couldn't. The string of shells around his neck were doing the trick as well as they had when he'd first put them on. It was much easier to catch a shadowbeast off its guard, when it never saw him coming at all.

He didn't see the pair of Immortals, sitting above them all, conversing and plotting. It wouldn't have mattered if he did. But then he'd also come to the conclusion that this wedge thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be. They weren't making as much progress as he'd hoped they might, and it was beginning to look more like a log jam than an actual fighting wedge. Not easy, swinging a sword in close quarters, where allies were as tightly packed together as they were with their opponents.

And so Padraig disentangled himself from the fray and retreated just enough to view it from a distance, but not retreat. It was then that he spotted the two conspiring Immortals, and just before he witnessed Fred, make that Aeon, being dragged into the portal and the door closed soundly behind him. What do then? Battling their way to an open portal was one thing, but getting through a barred one was another. Until the opposing side ran out of combatants, there seemed nothing to do but make sure it happened quickly, with as few friendly losses as possible. It was possible, was someone with a ranged weapon was able to eliminate the two meddling immortals.

Then? More unconventional means might be used to open that door. With that in mind, Padraig was back in the fray, fighting to eliminate as many of their opponents as possible.
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Faith Augustin
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[Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

Sat Jan 07, 2017 8:53 pm

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The Tomb
In Famula's name, Faith had come here to do the bidding of the Immortal she so adored. Having been brought here in a dream, the young slave was as much a fanatic as anyone could be. Her devotion to Famula was unwavering and, if the Immortal wished it, then she would die here this trial and do so without hesitation. She'd rather not, if given the option, of course, for she believed it was her duty to live and to serve to the best of her abiity. Here, though, in this place, she was not thinking of Tristan, even though he was her owner and she did everything she could to serve him ~ here she was doing Famula's work, plain and simple.

She was aware of the others, she knew of them, but she was focused on her job and she knew that she had to get to that door. As focused as she was, though, she couldn't help but notice, more than notice, Aeon. What in all the dark places of the underworld was he doing?! She loved Fred, as she called him, like a brother and, in that moment, she considered that if she and he survived this she was going to bloody well kill him.

She fought, though, ducking underneath blows and striking with her sword where she could and the young slave gave little thought to her own safety, determined to get there. But the doors closed and Faith let out a yell of pure frustration as it did. "We have to get in there", she had never, in the time that she had known Padraig, sounded quite so damnably angry as she did as she caught sight of him. She hadn't realised that was who she was yelling at, but yell at him she did. As soon as she caught sight of him she moved, with him so that they and the others could finish off the last of the Naerrik, those irritating, fanatical idiots (as far as the fantatic herself was concerned) who had stood their ground and stopped them from getting through the doors.

It was a brief moment where she turned around and looked at Padraig with determination in her eyes. "Can you pick that lock? Or... something?" He didn't seem like a particularly likely lockpick, but it was worth to ask.

Just in case it wasn't locked, though, she did step forward and try the handle too.
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Posting with Malt's input on there being a brief reprieve once we kill the last ones...
word count: 440
"Every evil has its good, and every ill an antidote."

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