• Event • [Global Event] The Great Meeting

[Vluharqih]

CREDIT

The first glimpse Alex caught of the city was enough to bring back memories of the Underground race. Smoke filled the sky, unseen fires spilling their rage as they devoured what they could. Ruin had visited the City of Cliffs.

Shadowy shapes attacked the barricades, and a shiver worked its way down her spine. Their uncanny similarities to the Mist Men of Etzos was enough proof for her; the Immortals had been telling the truth. When the ship landed, the new arrivals had been quickly put to work. Those without a useful trade were set to reinforcing the barricades, putting out fires or carrying supplies. Alex was lucky enough to identify herself as a doctor, and she had been spirited away from the rest of the Etzori.

She had told to try and see what supplies the defenders of Ne'haer had by the Cauldron, though she was not to steal anything that might compromise her position. It was mainly knowledge that they wanted, and Alex was doing her best to remember everything she could. Who knew what they might want?

Her Yludih nature had helped her out immensely. Her mind was used to going long periods of time without true rest, though she had recieved some sideways looks with how much alcohol she had downed. Without a doubt some here thought her a drunkard, though if any payed close attention they would've noted that her hands never wavered, and her stitches were straight and true.

Since she had arrived she hadn't slept. Countless patients had come through the makeshift infirmary, and she had worked tirelessly. Her mind wandered while she worked, the majority of the patients simply requiring stitches or bone-settings, and she thought of her Hyx, left at home in the care of Mr.Gardener.

Though many had looked down at her when she first arrived to the infirmary, scoffing at her age and raising eyebrows at the bottles of alcohol that disappeared down her throat, by the end she had earned a begrudging respect for her tireless efforts. When they had been summoned by the Immortals, she had left quietly and without a scene. She never was a fan of loud, overly dramatic goodbyes; a simple 'see you later' was all she had given her mentor as she departed on a life-endangering mission.

She arrived late to the hall, getting lost on the way. She pushed her way into the room just before they were sealed, standing quietly at the back of the hall. Her daggers were concealed beneath her cloak, the alchemically-enhanced material shivering as it matched the colour of the wall behind it.

She didn't care much for those here; the wanna-be heroes, the optimists, and the self-sacrificing fools. Her role was clear, and if it wasn't for the Cauldron more or less forcing her to be here, she wouldn't be. She let out a sigh as half a dozen people tried to speak out at once. A dark-haired girl who looked like she had never seen the sun asked the only important question: what were they to do. The rest of them were useless questions for the moment, though the information would be useful for her.

She was sure it would all come out at some point, but her job was to stay alive long enough to bring it back to Etzos, so she stayed silent and overlooked in the back of the room as voices rose.

[Vincent D'Ordyn]

19th Trial of Vhalar, Arc 716

Vincent stepped out of Emea and onto hard stone, his new boots making a sharp snapping sound as they hit the ground. Looking around he found himself outside of a huge building of some kind. As his gaze moved from the building to the rest of his surroundings, one thing was clear. The city he now stood in had seen better days. Smoke rose from fires every where, and the only building that seemed untouched by the destruction, was that which stood before him.

Taking a brief moment Vincent adjusted the armor he now wore. It wasn't that it fit poorly, it was just still strange to him. After a few trills had passed Vincent removed his helmet and strode into the building, assuming this is were Ethelynda had intended him to be. Once inside he found a spot to stand, of to the side and out of the way. More content to watch the proceedings then to put himself in the center. At least for now. His knowledge of events was still lacking, having spent the last few trials in Emea, and most of those before that on a boat.

At the thought of the boat, Sabine's face jumped into his head, and his heart sank. He knew she was furious at him for leaving her that we he did, but it had been necessary. Vincent knew that, but hated the fact all the same.

As the meeting finally started to proceed, Vincent's eyes traveled the room. The Immortal's were obvious. Adorned in armor and weapons as they were, their mere presence spoke strength and seemed to demand attention, much like Ethelynda's. As words were trade between the crowd and the Immortal's, Vincent's attention was drawn to a group of familiar faces not to far from were he stood, yet should have been leagues away. The seamstress, Faith, and her owner. Listening to the woman speak out Vincent could help but smirk. "Someone has changed quite dramatically in the past season." Vincent said softly, before slowly moving closer to the two.

Maybe he could get some information about what he had missed from them. If the Immortal's didn't answer them first.

[Nauta F'mos Geey]

Nauta felt thankful for the fact he changed had his desertion plans when he saw the state Ne'haer was in, no doubt because of the shadows. He heard that compared to Etzos, Ne'haer would be more tolerant to his kind and believed it would have been the best place for him to lay low. Having seen it for himself, he knew the relentless attacks of the shadows would be tough to get through for as long as he might have called the city his home. Etzos may have had its share of trouble from the shadows, but the Etzori were able to defend themselves and even make plans for retaliation.

It was not for the sake of survival that he chose to leave the protection of the secure city in which he now resided, especially for this perilous expedition. Remaining in Etzos would have been a lot more safer for him, now that he was aware there were others fool enough to enthusiastically take up arms against the shadows. The rewards he received after he had signed on may be a treasure, but also things he could do without. It was in fact the conversation which Nauta had with Jonarhel at the shrine that prompted Nauta to answer the call.

With no doubt Jonarhel would have someone from the shrine on the lookout for it, Nauta too was only along for the opportunity to capitalize on the plans of the immortals. There was no way he could have expected things to have turned out this way the moment he pursued the lead from that strange person, but now? He was glad he did.

He knew this was no time to waste on the possibilities for what he had or had not done. Nauta only allowed himself to be lost in his thoughts for a few bits, before he decided it would be better to commit his energy into making use of the opportunities which Jonarhel had made him aware of. While the discussion presented him an opportunity, the deserter was aware it was not the opportunity he should be looking out for. Unfortunately the temptation was too great, for him to strike at someone which he believed truly deserved it.

While he did not know how much the immortals in attendance knew about those responsible for the shadows, he knew of at least one which had attempted to stop the volunteers of Etzos, just as the two immortals which brought them to Ne'haer would as well. It would have been a great risk for him to draw attention to himself this way, but Nauta's Black Guard disguise had already brought him this far and there was no reason for him to doubt its effectiveness in hiding his more prominent features. The ones he shared with his kin from Sirothelle.

So pleased he was when he roared "so we should get Faldrun!" that he could not help but have a little smirk on his face. He waited for a few trills in hopes for some support for this idea before he added, "now great Etzos make plans to attack Lissira. Why Faldrun tries to stop us, if he isn't part of scheme?!" Among those which he came with from the city, the surviving volunteers he tried to conceal himself with, he hoped the idea would take root that "he came south for us. Only time until he comes here and then shadows and hotheads will get us!"

That was of course assuming Faldrun did not end up throwing one of his infamous tantrums after his defeat at the river, as Nauta was familiar with from those public incidents observed as a guard in Sirothelle. It could be very likely, the immortal in his rage would turn to nearby Etzos instead but Nauta did not want to think on that horrid possibility for very long. He had not intended it but he now had too much to lose in Etzos. His growing worries only heated him up the more he thought about it.

Which meant even if Faldrun may not be the enemy, to Nauta he was always the threat. The possibility of how he might react after the battle at the river made this fact more apparent that ever. If that idea planted in him would allow him to eagerly accuse the immortal despite his knowledge of who might be the true enemy, he had no scruples in trying to sow the seeds of that same idea in others. That was the hope he allowed himself to express thanks to Xiur, no matter the result it may bring.

[Rita Fenyo]

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Rita

The Ithecal managed to make her way to the front, a task made easier because of her species despite the tall size. There were questions being asked left, right and center all of them carrying little worth. A bit of pushing here and there but this was mostly contained by the aura the immortals gave off. Hope and fear, no, intimidation; an interesting combination of feelings Rita found. Despite her death wish, she was not the sort to throw herself at the immortals for it would be very detrimental to the greater good. I mean, would I really want to die? Her hand drifting to the wound in her stomach, strangely it was her wounded arm she used. It wasn’t disfigured, but not perfect either, large scarring of the skin but the bone was set right at least. She sighed and looked up at the beings before her. Powerful and magnificent, Do immortals get depressed, do they even get sick? involuntarily she was tracing her pouches. Everything she needed to save someone, to help those that were sick, in desperate need of her skill. How many had she saved? Thousands? Tens of thousands. Was giving mercy so they can pass to Familar in peace saving them? Yes
A question broke her epiphany, the girl on the boat that had came to her aid, Faith if she remembered right. The only sensible question asked so far.
”What do you need us to do?” There were a few more questions after, ones without meaning. Quite quickly things could get off track again with so many questions swamping the Immortals. One step at a time
“Faith is right! “ Rita spoke out, louder than she intended, “There will be time for idle questions and praising later. For now, we face a calamity that not even you powerful beings can take on alone. We are all here for a reason, as disorganised and random as we are there is some underlying order to the apparent chaos. Perhaps we should listen to what we are to do and set about these tasks.” She struggled to formulate the words into common in a way that sounded more like a suggestion than a command. A tinge of guilt came over her, she might think that Rita was trying to steal power away from her, but in reality, she was adding numbers. The first follower is always the most important to the leader, to show it was acceptable to join whilst also planting the seeds for others to follow them. Not taking over but assisting in bringing more people in. Let’s hope my training comes in handy.
The moments between the next person talking dragged on, feeling like every eye was upon her whilst not realising she was at full height and towering over those around her. She held her composure regardless of how scared she was. It was strange, she was more scared of ridicule than the powerful beings in front of her that, for all she knew, could turn her to ashes in the flick of a wrist. The silence dragged on for a long time giving her time to formulate more to say. It was in reality only a few breaths in between speaking.
“I mean, for lack of a better analogy, uh comparison, we are all fresh recruits from all different walks of life unified in the singularity of being chosen by you. We are confused, nervous, excited… a wide variety of emotions and feelings, about what is in store for us next. Hence the wide range of questions. Faith makes sense in that we need to be quiet as our ‘leaders’” She purposely avoided saying superiors as she felt that this would cause more harm than good. “Kindly explain what we are to do next so that we can start coming together as one… family and work to defeat this evil.” Her heart was beating fast, smiling at the immortals. As much as the aura of hope was helping, the person after faith had planted fear. Hoarse voice and questions of concern leading to an almost panic as he addressed the very real possibility of fighting an immortal. As much as he was right to react the way he did, it was not appropriate for the moment as it could quite easily cause others to panic and ask questions in fear and that would spread. Mass panic is not needed at a time like this She hoped one of the immortals would take control soon.

[/style]

Template made by Aelius for Rita

[Jade]

S T A N D I N GT R I A L S

∞

G L O B A L E V E N T

TREID'S HEART

There was little to discern in the way of tension within the room. Needless to say, it kept building the more each mortal felt the need to interject with their apparent words of wisdom, facades, and questions. Ilaren's eyes scanned over the crowd. The mutters she heard from some, the Immortal completely agreed with. These were not warriors. These mortals were not even their champions and given the war that raged between her brethren, Ilaren had lost more than just her faithful knights in shining armor. Mortal or Immortal, no parent should know the pain of losing a child...
Her eyes touched on that of a man with dark hair, his eyes staring back at her with shock she was all too familiar with before drifting to the woman who'd spoke out beside him. Ilaren never like these political meetings. Gatherings were never her thing unless it involved music and copious amounts of Alcohol. Needless to say, she was entirely bored.
Moseke, on the other hand, was as entranced with the mortals as they appeared to be with them. She could see their afflictions, could feel the pain they suffered from the battles they fought trying to survive this game. They were all playing a risky game of trust, one that spoke of great reward should the mortals give into better judgment and wisdom. But who would take the first step?
Rising with an unnatural elegance from the throne she took up, Moseke stepped toward the crowd and watched when they backed away subtly, but it was enough to halt the woman in her place upon the dais.
Instead of coaxing them with words, the Immortal muttered something that carried a rejuvenating power throughout the room. Ancient Words spoken in a tongue and dialect only found in Viden. They were laced with Ether, her own ether, to conjure around her a soft green light that radiated with a kind of warmth. The light spread above her as green eyes turned bright yellow and ebony hands rose as if to push the energy above her. Like a giant tree of life, it meshed against the high ceilings of the chamber and branched out, pouring ether onto those below it.
The ether sank into their armor and skin as drops of green mist, slowly healing their wounds till not even a scar was in place. Their bruised and broken bones slowly mended and the endurance some lacked due to their afflictions was amplified. Even those who suffered no wounds felt invigorating. As if their bodies were built stronger.
As the words died on her lips, so too did the energy fade away and she was left standing above a speechless crowd. “What some of you lack in strength, you make up for in intellect and wit... As you have seen, the shadow beasts raided your cities and in their wake, have killed thousands. Some of them, comrades. Others, friends and family... Lives were lost to these beasts because of the evil we fight against, because of my brethren who wish to see you all dead.”
“There is small truth in every legend and your people have passed many about us along each generation. You may choose to believe what you wish, however, within these walls we all fight for a common cause: Peace.”
“You all have been brought here, not to fight for us and not to be used by us. You've been brought here to fight with us and help us defend the life you hold and the life of the person next to you, and of your homeland and your world. Without the strength you possess, we will not be able to prevent this evil from spreading...” Moseke spoke softly and lowered herself from the dais and into the crowd. Such an act of trust caused the others to tense upon their thrones. It was dangerous to be surrounded by mortals, but the Goddess of Life leveled herself with the people. She was not one to stand above another and soon, she was confronting humans, caressing their cheeks, healing them as she went.
Moseke stopped in front of a woman far shorter than her. She had dark hair that was strung up and looked exhausted. Something about the woman stuck out to the Immortal and she caressed the human's cheek lightly, “All will be well,” She said softly, the warmth of her energy moving into the mortal, “Just have faith.”
And then she stepped away, moving to others, some being Ti'niva, whom she'd recognized when he'd entered and even another young lass whose familiar Moseke was particularly fond of. “Your wolf will serve you well.” She'd said quietly to the girl.
Qylios spoke up then, “If you choose to take up arms, you must be prepared to fight for your lives within Treidhart. As you are all well aware of now, we Immortals are very real as are our kin: Lisirra and Syroa. They've sent these shadows after every ally Treidhart has declared themselves with in an attempt to prevent aid from coming while they overrun the city. We don't know why, so don't ask... But what we do know is that a fleet with Augiery flags were spotted sailing to Oscillus. Due to this information, we can only assume Audrae is involved in whatever schemes they have planned and by her involvement, we think it somehow revolves around Treid.”
“You all will have the course of a day to prepare yourselves for the fight. We will take you through our portals into Oscillus and there, you will be placed on the battlefield. Those who lack strength in combat arts will be paired with someone capable of defending them.”
Pausing for a moment, Qylios looked around the room, “Others may come, yes. Faldrun may come, yes. They will most assuredly bring carnage and chaos with them, thus, the choice must be a quick and sound one... There will be no time to turn back and no time to hesitate.”
“But you must remember above all else: You should never allow your fears to misguide you. They are there to remind you what it is you're fighting for, after all.”
With that, the woman removed the barre on the door and yanked it open with force, allowing the mortals a chance to exit if they so pleased.
“Those willing to fight with us, we will meet here at the 7th break...”
Several breaks passed before the sun found itself setting upon the horizon. The calm waters of the Rea Lake shivered against soft winds the brushed over its surface. Oddly, there had been a break in the horde of shadows and only a few approached the walls where they were effectively slain by the few Zafra Knights who guarded them. Zafra Wingmen patrolled the skies, looking out onto the lands for enemies approaching. Where the darkness slowly crept to fall into night, something ominous lurked...
Everything was too quiet. The feeling of something approaching promoted unsteady anticipation. An enemy had arrived...
It was the 20th break when light glowed from within the Willow Woods. It was enchanting, light yellow, and almost like fire. That is, until the Wingmen realized it was fire and not just burning fire. Running fire. All at once, their war horns sounded and within the quiet void, they blared over the wind to echo around the city, waking all who slept. Again, the horns sounded as the first Aukari wave assaulted the gates.
They'd been the reason for the break in the horde of shadow beasts. Being what they were, the Aukari could cut through the things easily and had done so before taking the chance to attack Ne'haer.
“Get to the Judgment Halls!” The command echoed from the gates to the street as survivors once again found themselves racing for their lives. “Go! Run!”
Upon entering the Halls, a blackened, purple light radiating against the stone structure where a massive, static portal greeted all who entered. Within the portal stood a blonde haired woman who beckoned to those that gazed upon her, “Hurry, this way—“ She motioned.
Jesine was her name and she took care to guide each group to the other end of the portal where Oscullis waited. The darkness of Emea was too great to allow the humans to wander through by themselves. Strange noises would echo within the darkness as some groups ventured into the place but most notable were the lights that floated overhead. They looked like stars.
Once deposited in Oscillus, Jesine would hurry off to collect the next group. When she arrived to the portal in Ne'haer, however, the roof to the Judgement Halls had been ripped clean open and there within the rubble and stone stood Faldrun and Ilaren, a show of fire and lightening. Electricity sprang from her in a show of white anger, clashing against the God with a whip of her hand as she assaulted him. Faldrun crashed back into the wall, but it wasn't long before the rocks melted away and he stood, raining fire on the woman.
Another group hurriedly approached, but some of them were caught in the crossfires. A molten ball saw one man melt from the neck and shoulders down, having been thrown out of the way of the portal by it. His screams lasted only trills before his life was taken.
“Come to me, now!” Jesine yelled.[/color]

Off Topic

Make your final posts then move to the Battle To The Tomb of Treid thread. Also, to note, Moseke is only healing minor and moderate wounds to get your characters ready for battle. Any wounds or scars given from previous events will not heal unless specifically asked of her to heal them. Therefore, make sure to say ICly if your character has major wounds that need healing. If you're not sure, PM me.

[Symbri]

Vhalar, 716

The meeting seemed to be a roiling pit of emotions people were being healed people were being reassured, and for a moment, things looked good, it seemed as if life would indeed go on and people would survive and fight on, when Moseke passed by her and restored her vitality Symbri grinned up at her wordless, the immortals were on her side today, the side of her city, and for that reason she was ready to fight for humanity.

When the meeting was dismissed Symbri lingered momentarily before setting out, she needed to rest a bit, but she felt otherwise ready to fight, she'd see that her city would survive and that humanity would win this battle against those that would see them crushed, be it shadows or Fauldrun's brutalized hoards Symbri was ready

However, when the time came to leave through the portal, time to be a hero, it was not marked by well-wishing of those staying behind, it was marked by lightning and fire, horns calling out that the enemies were invading running Symbri left her home behind sure she'd never see it again pulling her leather armor on she sprinted forward looking towards the most horrifying sky she'd ever seen it was as if t was being torn apart by flaming hail and arcing lightning.

But, nothing she had ever seen could compare to what she saw when she made to the great hall, utter chaos reigned as two immortals clashed, a man was torn asunder by fire another killed by rubble. it was as if the very culmination of all the chaos she had seen on the past weeks had come together in some final cataclysm. Looking one last time at the city that had been her home, now lying in ruins Symbri vowed vengeance and set forth to the portal dashing Symbri prayed to forgiveness to Ilaren for her uselessness, sand vowed retribution on Fauldrun for what he was doing, Into the portal the small girl went, unsure of what to feel anymore, her home was gone, and she was heading off to fight a foe beyond her comprehension, would she survive, would anyone?

The world inside the portal was pleasantly dark, dark enough to hide the tears that poured freely from Symbri's eyes, she no longer had a home to return to she only had forward to go. But she had goals now, she had renewed purpose, vengeance to enact and a world to save she among the huddled masses would stand tall, and stand victorious, or die trying.

[Vluharqih]

CREDIT

The Immortals took charge, thankfully, after listening to the mortals speak and shout over each other. Everyone seemed to have an inflated opinion of themselves, and somehow think that the Immortals should listen to them.

When the one rose, with a grace that made Alex jealous, she sighed. Perhaps now they could finally get on their way. A green light bathed the room, and Alex breathed in deeply as her body tingled. The air seemed sweet suddenly, a welcome change from the disgusting stale sweat that seemed to permeate the room. Did none of these warriors know how to bathe, or wash?

All too soon it was gone, and the woman began to speak. Her voice implored her audience, lifting them up like her magic had done moments before. As she walked down among the assembled mortals, Alex straightened. She knew enough about Immortals to know how dangerous it was, though any would-be assassin would be torn to shreds before he could escape. The danger was still there, but still the woman pressed on.

When at last she was done, another of the assembled Immortals spoke up. It was him that truly told Alex what she would be doing. Despite all that the first woman had said, she had the gift of a politician- saying much without saying anything. She watched with a detached amusement as they took turns speaking, her true reason for coming unrelated to the event.

At last the doors were opened, and she stepped back out to the real world, immediately returning to the medic tent. People needed her there, and who knew who might show up on a table there.
That night she was working when the horns sounded. She wiped her hands, discarded the jacket and grabbed her sack of supplies. She tore off, down the streets and back to the hall where she had seen the Immortals. The glow of fire lit the city edges, and she realized with a start that the Aukari were there.

An explosion near the hall made Alex pull up short. A piece of the roof crashed past her, and she ducked to press the cloak against the wall. Camouflaged now, she continued creeping towards the Hall. The flaming form of Fauldrun appeared as she crept around a corner, and she ducked as he was thrown into the wall. It exploded in all direction, Alex using the distraction to dart forward.

A man just ahead of her was struck down by a fireball the size of her head, and she hunched further over as if that would protect her. She reached the portal safely, somehow avoiding the rain of fire as she dove, headfirst through the portal.

[Quio]

Lisirra and Syroa. And others, Audrae and Faldrun. He didn't know much about their people; only U'frek, whom he glanced at quickly before moving his eyes away.

So they were to oppose immortals. Yet as impossible as it was, there were other impossibilities here--

Like the way the immortal woman rained down gentle leaves of green light, tending to those gathered, healing their wounds and ails. Making them strong. On the cold stone floor, the Yludih stood a little straighter, relieved of physical burden. For the first time since he had been possessed on the ship, his branded shoulder no longer hurt.

Preparing their strength for the battle that was to come.

Immortals help him but he could not turn away. Not after what he had seen in Ne'haer. To imagine that happening to the other cities-- to Andaris, where Hart was--

No. He had to fight.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as if the seaborn stood next to him, as if Hart might hear.

Because he didn't know if he would come back from this.

The warrior immortal who spoke then, the one with shining blonde hair, said something that resonated with the Yludih like a hum: "You should never allow your fears to misguide you. They are there to remind you what it is you're fighting for, after all.”

Maybe it was the return of his strength from the one who had cast her magic to heal them. Maybe it had been the dark-skinned immortal who had earlier filled the room with hope. He still didn't feel ready, he didn't think he ever would, inadequate as he was. But he did feel... certain.

Like it or not, this was something he had to do.

---

When the immortal had let them free he had left the Judgement Halls not to abandon the cause but to help the people of Ne'haer best he could for that final day. Gone back to what he had been doing before, his little dog Jack now again at his heels, sticking to him like glue; with a line of other men, he continued to put out fires or wet down the smoldering ruins of people's lost homes. Brushing the soot from his hair and the smudges of ash off his face every once and a while as he did.

And then the sound of the horn...

They had stopped for a break, lounging against shattered wood and piles of stone, some having fallen into a quick, much-needed sleep. Not having heard the sound before, Quio was the only one in his group not to flinch when the horn began to bray. The men around him sprung to action, some out of a dead sleep into a straight panic, hands scrambling to whatever weapons they had. One flat-out got up and ran, not looking back. A few trills later and a call went up. Something about fire? "We have to stop it-- put out the fire--" Quio began, but then the others had scattered.

"I'm sorry," one said, before darting away, "I've got to protect my family."

"Godspeed," the Yludih murmured, and then turned towards the walls.

In the distance, burning against the trees, a flickering yellow light. Growing nearer. Rapidly nearer. The Yludih squinted his eyes, taking a step forward and putting a hand to his forehead like a visor. Trying to see better. But he could barely see anything but the light of the flames over the walls.

"What?" Quio asked, and then the fire had slammed bodily into the gates of the city like a living thing, and he heard the command to run. And outside the walls, there came the screaming of an army.

He didn't need further prompting. Quio snatched up Jack from where she'd hidden under some nearby rubble, and raced towards the Judgement Halls.

He managed to get to the Council before the devil fire, whatever it was, had broken through into the city.

He had run fast, only slowing to encourage people to take shelter in the Halls; it looked like he was one of the first to arrive.

Outside, from behind he could hear the angry creaking of the gates as they were assaulted, loud, squealing hinges and screaming, popping wood. Smoke filtered into the building through the wide-open doors as more people rushed in. Past him. Some went through the magical doorway that had been conjured, others merely came to take shelter in the one building still whole.

He didn't want to leave without Tristan and Faith and Lei'lira, but he didn't know where they were-- had they already gone through?

Outside, there came the continuing screech of the gates as they grew more and more desperate under their strain. And below that, there was some other, awful noise, like but unlike the buzzing of bees; a thousand fires crackling and snapping and hissing all at once.

In his arms, Jack yipped and quivered against him and he tucked her into the jacket he wore over his leather armor, trying to hide her face from the encroaching smoke. He himself began to cough. There were enough people shuffling through he couldn't check all their faces, and it was hard to see in the gathering smoke and the unearthly purple light of the magic doorway. He was being buffeted where he stood, and he fought to keep his ground against the panicked herd of terrified people.

"Tristan!" he called, then coughing more, "Faith, Lei'lira!" If he found any of them he would make sure they didn't leave from his sight. Grabbing their hands or arms to keep together if need be.

Once he found them --or if too long had passed without him finding any of the people he sought-- he would unwillingly step towards the strange rip in the air that the immortals had called a portal. Heartstone pounding, he went towards the blonde woman --a mortal? he couldn't tell if she was another of the gods or merely had her own magic-- and when a big enough group had gathered, they made their way into the purple light.

Just in time.

Behind there came the most terrible sound yet: like nothing he had ever heard. Like the ripping and grinding of giant bones. He looked back and saw only fire and smoke and boiling black clouds; heard a crack of lightning and then he turned his face forward and stumbled on.

Into the sharp, cool, clean darkness --compared to the fiery hell behind-- dotted through with twinkling stars. Too beautiful and clear to comprehend after all that. He mostly kept his eyes on his feet. Trying not to listen too closely to the strange noises the portal made--

And then he was on the other side.

The cold of the air hit him like a punch to the face, sucking the breath from his lungs. Gasping, he looked around, trying to blink past all the glaring white. Trying to figure out what next he was supposed to do.

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Doran]

Unlike some of those that stood around him the Mortalborn did not back away when Moseke rose from her throne and stepped towards the crowd. He did not fear her, and he was not in awe of her, although he would never underestimate what she was capable of, having already witnessed the falsity and the cruelty of the immortals first-hand once. He simply watched her from his place at the relative back of the room, hidden by the crowd, his face nearly expressionless. He would withhold passing his judgement until after she and her allies had revealed the purpose of their mission.

He was one of the few that had come out of the battle on the ship and the fights in Ne’haer unscathed – whether it was because of his skill or through sheer luck remained to be seen - but as her light touched him, he felt stronger and invigorated nevertheless, as if he had had a good night’s sleep. He knew that he should feel grateful for that, but instead a part of him could not help but wonder why she had only intervened now when she had been needed on the ship, why she had let all those people in Ne’haer die.

Maybe, he thought, these mortals were simply being healed now so that they could be led like lambs to the slaughter later on, sacrificed for beings that did not even have the decency to be honest about what they were doing. Maybe they were all simply pawns in the eternal war of the Immortals, tools to be used and discarded when they had fulfilled their purpose.

Her words did little to convince him of the contrary. She spoke of wit and intellect, but he had seen none. He had only seen a doctor whose greatest skill was in getting hurt, a house slave who had no place on a battlefield and a man that had fallen prey to lies and manipulation. Blindly following orders as they had done was not a sign of intelligence, but utter folly.

She spoke of their people, but their people had never truly been his people, although he had sometimes wished it were the case with all his heart. He was not truly a part of mortalkind – he did not feel included in her speech - but closer to his immortal kin as far as his abilities and his longevity were concerned, so why should he risk his eternal life for them?

Would it not be better to free himself from the chains that bound him, to try and forge his own destiny instead of continuing to fight for those that were weaker than him and would likely never appreciate his sacrifice, who would eventually die regardless of what he did, like all those that had come before them and those that would follow after them?

Even as he asked himself those questions, a little voice in the back of his mind insisted that thinking like that was not right, that such things could be the first signs of some sort of mental ailment, megalomania, narcissism, that such great arrogance was inappropriate in the face of the Immortals. He had been a healer once. He knew the signs.

But then Qylios spoke of Lisirra and Syroa. Up until that moment he had not known who had been behind the shadow creatures. Despite all his research the origin of the threat had remained a mystery. It was clear to him which path he needed to take now. Why continue to risk his life in a battle that they might not be able to win, for a city that he cared little about and for beings that were born and died within the blink of an eye?

His immortal father was still absent as he had been absent on the trial that his lover had lain dying and he had begged for somebody to come to his help, on his knees and with tears in his eyes, but Syroa had once put her mark on him and made him hers. She had seen something in him. Who was he to oppose the only immortal that had ever given anything worthwhile to him? Who were they to decide who was good and evil anyway?

Qylios had been right about one thing though, he realized. He needed to act quickly. He could not let his fear misguide him. He needed to remember what he was fighting for and why. He would use the coming breaks to prepare himself for what lay ahead, to get what he needed in order to put an end to the insanity and all the lies, to make sure that he would be more than just another sacrificial lamb, born only to be killed at the right time and lured into a false sense of hope.

There would be no hope, for any of those that had embarked on this journey, not anymore.

-----

Only fire and death awaited him as he finally made his way back to the Judgement Halls. The necklace he had been given protected him against all sorts of dangerous spirits, but it did not make him immune to Aukari and their powers. For once, for perhaps the last time he obeyed. As they were told to run, he hurried towards the Halls and through the portal. He had come to the decision that he needed to follow them into Oscillus in order to do what needed to be done.

As Jesine guided his group through Emea, he watched his surroundings closely. Strange sounds echoed through the darkness. He heard screams that chilled him to the bone, but at the same time the vast blackness that surrounded them all was familiar to him and a source of great comfort. The darkness was his domain, he ruled over it, so why should he be afraid of it?

Overhead lights could be seen, occasionally piercing the darkness that had seemed nearly all-encompassing at first. As he looked up at them he wondered if they could be extinguished, if his abilities would allow him to steal them, like the light from a lamp, if they would provide guidance and protection from the horrors that lurked within Emea. Had Jesine put them there?

He pulled his gaze away from them. It did not matter, at least not now. He needed to focus. There would only be one chance for him, to end it all and rise above them. He drew his sword and stepped out of the darkness and back into the light.

[Faith Augustin]

In the Hall

The injured Ithecal from the boat did a much longer speech which fundamentally said what she had said, someone else shouted about Faldrun and Faith stood, quiet and pensive next to her owner. One Immortal, then another and Faith tried to take it all in, to watch it and to remember it. Should they survive this, it would be an experience like no other and it was worthy of note, she did not doubt. The green mist which emanated through the room was unnerving, but then as it landed on her owner, she saw his face heal and she smiled at him, squeezing his hand. Her breathing eased from the broken ribs and she looked in amazement at the Immortal who had done this; who was now speaking and giving her insight into what was happening.

There was no doubt, for Faith, she was here to serve. Famula had sent her here and that meant that the fanatical young slave would do what needed to be done unto her last breath so she was determined. But when the Immortal whose name she did not know moved to her and caressed her cheek, Faith looked at her with silver eyes full of emotion, full of hope. As Moeseke's hand touched her cheek, Faith smiled and was surprised to find tears in her eyes. "Thank you", she whispered as she felt as energised as though she had slept for a week and rested for longer. This Immortal worked with her beloved Famula, they were on the same side and Faith was overwhelmed and humbled by the thought that She had spoken to her and touched her face. It was a beautiful gift and one that Faith would treasure.

~~~~

Later, as they returned, the tension was palpable and then it burst forth like a hell itself had arrived and, as she felt the fear rise in her, Faith worried that perhaps it had. But they ran, dodging what they needed to and she tried to keep an eye on Master and on Padraig - those were the two that she was worried about in all this, the two that she just tried to watch out for having lost hold of Master's hand in the rush she desperately tried to find him in the melee. She couldn't catch sight of them, but she thought she heard someone calling her name. Was that one of them? She was too confused and overwhelmed with trying to dodge the fire to know, but she thought that she'd heard it. Please, Famula, let all her people here be safe, she prayed fervently. But finally, there was the portal and another Immortal and another. They were popping up all over the place, Faith thought to herself. There was fire and there was hell, there were Immortals and portals and really, she considered, this was all a bit over-exciting.

But there was a bottom line. Famula had instructed her to come here, and so she obeyed to the best of her abilities. With a heartfelt prayer to her beloved Immortal that she might serve Famula's wishes as best she could in the bits and breaks to come, that she would serve completely and that, if her fate was to die this trial, then she would die with Famula's name on her lips.

And then, she legged it through the portal.