Author: SilverWind, Posted: Sun Oct 6, 2019 12:59 PM, Post Subject: Out of Hands We Go (Event, Open)

The fight was going well, but not well enough. The once pristine lake was now a mass of death and destruction, and Aeolus worried about what would happen in the aftermath. Would the blood of the Void seep into the ground and cause havoc in the future? Would the world be able to bounce back after they survived?

If they survived?

The celestial draconian stepped into the field, his silver hair shimmering in the light. He would put his whole effort into the fight, something that he had done only once in his life. This was it; the time for him to feel alive. The fear that he had felt the last time he had faced off against the Void was something that he had been missing. Even if the last time was nothing more than a nightmare brought about by the Gods, he had internalized that sensation and relished in it.

And now he could flourish. His armor shimmered as six brilliant wings burst from his back, adjusting to accommodate them. He drew his blade, which swirled with the ever flowing wind, and drew his eyes level with the field. His title, the Silver Wind, was not just for show, and like a breeze, he moved through the fields of enemies with ease, cutting the lesser beings down with ease. His image vanished and reappeared through the fight, and with each step he took, the lesser beasts fell left and right.

It wasn’t enough. He needed more. The endless waves of mooks were nothing to him, and did nothing but bore him. Aeolus let out a chuckle. Here they were, fighting for their lives, and all he could think about was nothing more than to feel something.

Rosemary would be ashamed of me.

But this is who he was. The ever wandering Silver Wind, whom wished to fight to feel alive. He needed it to feel complete.

Off in the distance, he could see warriors around him fighting and struggling to survive. A Rhino, felled by a powerful crack of ice from the sky. It looked as though it took a lot to bring it down. The celestial smiled, and took to the air. There were many beings that came from the Void. Not just the low level fodder, but things that took effort to kill. It was one of those he needed. He spotted a Rhino charging a group of unlucky knights.

There. His visage vanished, leaving a trace of silver sailing through the air as Flash Stepped in front of the knights. “Just stay out of my way,” he commanded as the amalgamation of writhing bodies rushed their position.

Aeolus smiled, if for a brief moment in their game of chicken. “Die.” He slashed his blade through the air, sending a volley of hyper compressed air slashed through the air, cutting the outer part of the mass of bodies off. He then rushed at the now weakened Rhino, blade raised to the sky. He leapt into the air, using his wings to however for a brief moment as he brought the sword down, surrounding it with immense wind pressure, cleaving the Rhino clean in two, separating it just before it could crush the poor knights.

“Quickly now! Kill the remaining bodies before it has a chance to do anything else!” he roared. The knights at once responded, and moved to action. It wasn’t that Aeolus couldn’t have done it, but even amongst his own mindset of needing his rush, he knew that morale needed to be high.

“Fight now, for the realm!” he said, pointing his sword. “Rally and support those who need it! Move!”

Author: Valravn, Posted: Sun Oct 6, 2019 1:05 AM, Post Subject: Out of Hands We Go (Event, Open)

The sight of an incoming horde of monsters was not wholly unfamiliar to her. She had seen this nightmare before, once upon another time in a land where the sea air was cold and it snowed. But this was no Egjora, and Sacra Rosa had been purged of its sin. The monastery had been absolved of its sacrilege. This land was so peaceful, yet this was where the enemy had chosen to come. Like an avenging angel with cruel and merciless intent, Ardea stormed through the packs of stalkers wielding a scythe in one hand and drawing glyphs with the other. Fire and steel met the Void creatures, and those who tried to swarm her were greeted with a thundering wave of lightning. The flow and ebb of magic going in and out of her anima ring was endless, as souls were being spent almost as quickly as they were gained. "Incendium!" The raven-haired woman shouted moments before swirling torrents of wind and flame enveloped her. She could not afford to let down her guard–there were creatures among the fiends whose bite could turn someone careless into another enemy. The woman had already lost so much–her mother, Alexander, and even the man who had been like father to her when her mother passed on. Even if that same man had groomed her to be a sacrifice of his dark desires, he was another person she could never save. 

She would not lose anyone else again. For the sake of those who had given their lives so that she may live, Ardea would honor them by living proudly until her time came to an end. She would not allow herself to be felled by inattention or weakness. With a shout, the spellsword gathered the winds beneath her to send her body high into the air, taking advantage of the altitude to blast fire and ice down at the creatures below. Burning hail torched and shredded their bodies, the fire ensuring what little that remained was burnt to ash. A surge of souls flooded into her ring, granting another turn to continue her aerial bombardment. Though her face was stoic, it was still hard for her when she had to turn her spells onto a Corrupted. Then her fingers would draw a glyph, and they would be encapsulated by a torrent of flame. "May your spirits rest in peace." She said, with a somber whisper. "I pray that you will meet a kinder fate in another life." She landed with another charged thunderwave, creating a temporary safe space before enemies flooded back in again. 

The ghastly bellows of some great beast caught her attention, and Ardea saw the grotesque amalgamation of limbs which they called a Rhino. Charging in a mad rage, it battered through friend and foe alike, its only thoughts focused entirely on rampaging destruction. Her body hesitated as she was in its line of assault. Protection would not be enough, and even thunderwave's force wouldn't negate its momentum. Tracing glyphs in the air and on the ground with the toe of her sabaton, Ardea chose to confront the rushing Rhino with an arcane obstacle of her own. Conjuring a massive plinth of ice, the spell launched from her fingertips moments before the glyph traced in the dirt went into effect. "VOL GRANDO!" In the blink of an eye, she was gone and the Rhino was met with a large icy mass slamming head-on into it. 

Author: Sebastian Black, Posted: Sat Oct 5, 2019 1:34 PM, Post Subject: Out of Hands We Go (Event, Open)

It had become readily apparent that no mortal could outrun or ignore the threat that had grown on the fringes of the comparatively mundane plane in which they resided. This hard truth Sebastian had embraced at last, ceasing his endless wandering to converge with the defenders in Jasumin.

The Mystic's Autumn gaze beheld Autumnal vistas before it, intensifying the tapestries of color beneath a knit brow of concern. These plains, however, were unmarred by the ravaging assault from the Void. There was no lake present; only endless, rolling plains covered by perpetually-transitioning trees and desolate ruins. He had come to the lake well before the attack began, feeling the compelling pull of the energy. He only hoped this would not be a L'appel du Vide…Call of the Void, as it were. He had come to fight - not to die. Given his complicated history in dealing with Eldritch beings and the great mysteries as a whole, Sebastian was, perhaps, more confident than most in stemming the tide and preventing the world's consumption. He did have his reservations, however.

Given that he had been an unwilling conduit for terrible powers before, Sebastian wondered what may become of him if he were to succumb to the whispy and skittering things from Beyond. What would become of the Pantheon? They had already lost one to the madness. It was hard to fathom a brand of malevolence so…pure. These beings, unlike those he had once encountered, not only desired to consume all things, but to bend, break, and possess them first. Seasoning the meat, he thought morbidly.

Predictably, his thoughts were a scattered mess. Ponderings and predilections were muddled by matters of the heart. He thought of Bryony, and his daughter Hazel, whom he never had the opportunity to see grow to maturity - a combination of cruel fate and due in part to his own stupidity and stubbornness. He thought of the many interesting connections he had made in the previous months, the lives he had touched, and the ways they had touched his. He decided in that moment that none of this would ever fade from him if he didn't allow it. Come Hell or high water. Whether victory was achieved, or it was merely the fading fever dreams of a rambling madman whilste his form was being slowly dissolved in the belly of some celestial leviathan.


Consciousness gradually returning post-projection, Sebastian stirred, inhaling sharply.

He stood slowly in a far room at the back of Jasumin Lake's wheelhouse. Wiping away the frost that had accumulated in his dark hair and beard. The hood of his long, black coat was drawn, obscuring a look of grim determination as he made his way onto the lake paths, where engagements had already begun. Corrupted beings and shades of all manner rose from the once-beautiful water, now turned an indescribably sickly hue. Portals violently tore open in the air, and Stalkers and their ilk poured forth.

Beasts all over the shop, his thoughts spoke, vaguely in his father's voice.

Sebastian had gone by like a fly on the wall to most of the creatures at first, until he withdrew the strange ornate bell from an inner coat pocket.
It was crafted of gold and onyx, with blasphemous, though assuaging symbols etched in crystal upon the surface. Calmly "ringing" the clapperless chime, no sound emitted, but the creatures nearest to him screeched and writhed in agony, clearly affected by the forces woven into the object. One skittered towards him rapidly, trying to endure the pain long enough to strike. As it rose on forelimbs, the Mystic focused all of his anger and disgust into a tempestuous telekinetic blast, knocking the creature back. Raising the bell before him, he saw himself as a young lad in his mind's eye, practicing with a bow after chopping wood for the stove. Memories of split peas, roast poatoes, spices, and loving laughter fortified his spirit. Rippling, cymatic tones came from the bell. The form of a great ethereal bow manifested itself, using the bell as a catalyst, and his own energy as the source. Being drawn with both physical and metaphysical effort, an arrow took shape as well, nocking, shining brightly, then hurdling into the creature like lightning, striking it betwixt where its eyes should have been. It screamed, fell, and ceased to move.

Several more arrows sailed into its compatriots, and Sebastian approached the last, which had not fully perished. He put his boot forcefully upon its grotesque head, and let loose another arrow into its neck.
To his horror, these actions, though leisured and precise, left him reeling and panting for breath. Though implementation of these powers in such a way was innate to him, it was not something he regularly put into practice. He was no warrior.
Pure resolve would be what saw him through this uphill battle. Strange eyes that reflected the locale emitting an unsettling glow, Bash let his energy surge wildly as he put himself to use on the battlefield, finding and saving those he was able…