PlaneShift
Gameplay => In-Game Roleplay Events => Topic started by: Taya on January 05, 2014, 11:51:40 pm
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[Please note that everything below the line was written by and is posted on behalf of Eremon Erkturus. He is unable to create a thread here, and since everything he has told me about his plans so far sounds interesting, I offered to start this for him. Please get in touch with him in game if you want to join in with the RP.]
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"...agreed to speed the research but cautions that our work must remain hidden if it is to succeed. Do not engage in reckless action."
The man's smile as he lowered the letter and looked across the great city might almost seem pleasant but for the coldness of his eyes. As with all things the Seeker urged caution, always caution, but the pace must be quickened or they would all die. The warm glow of success filled his chest and he felt as if he had been unchained...he had finally triumphed in their years-long debate.
Here below him were plenty of test subjects - Refuges, rogues and street urchins by the dozens. Who would miss one or two? And even in the lands outside the city there were countless little homesteads and cottages whose occupants would never be missed.
He penned a quick response to the letter and tied it to the leg of the groffel still awaiting his reply. Shooing the little creature away, he smiled affably at the young couple enjoying their romantic moment together and began the long climb back down the windowless tower.
[ This marks the beginning of a long term storyline open to everyone. If you encounter something that you believe is related to this effort, please do post your own narrative here. ]
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The quill scratches quietly against the parchment, azure light throwing faint shadows across the artfully penned letters.
"...as I said, it took weeks for anyone to stumble upon the homesteads and then they merely assumed them abandoned. Your fears are groundless. I did lose one soldier in taking the third shipment - perhaps that subject can be returned as it would prove most useful in securing more raw materials."
The man nods with satisfaction, scribbles his signature then seals the scroll in its tube. He attaches it to the collar around his groffel's neck and sends the creature fluttering away with a wave of his hand.
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"Undead" Seria mutters as she finishes reading an old, quite dusty (the kind of dusty that creeps asthma sick people out when they see it), tome in the Imperial Library. "I hate undead".
Picturing the recent attack on her, Sarren and Sulaika on the road to Hydlaa, she is certain that is was not the last. Undead rarely come without a truly evil necromancer hiding in some dark alley, after all, she thinks. Perhaps Evirea was involved after all, she had been suspecting that for some time. She has yet to meet the necromancer that was not after the Klyros in some weird fashion.
She feels a little frustrated that she did not get to capture the undead alive, but the Steel Force and its captain will soon rectify that, she hopes. Writing a few letters and orders to her fellow Imperials, she finishes her work for the day.
The path in front of her is clear to her, just as clear as the bottle of alcohol in front of her.
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Lace, yes, he would be a fine gift for the necromancer. Sure. People would soon notice Lance missing. But the necromancer's work was art to him. Art. And that is just what Lace would become.
The figure leaves a note in the tavern of every town.
"Master, I have noticed your piece of art. The way you turn the unworthy into your servants even in death. I am marveled. The unworthy shall be yours. Let me know where you want me to bring them and they shall serve you. Forever."
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[Sooooooooo Eremon. Is the RP dead yet? Nothing has happened for quite some time....And please make sure Evirea doesn't hijack this plot via Taya in order to turn this into a love triangle.]
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[This RP is not dead. I've continued with zombie attacks trying to build a little momentum. Thank you for joining in actively!!]
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A groffel pecks lightly at Lace's ankle. The note it carries says "There is much more at stake than art here. You will meet me at the rock next to the Howling Well where you will prove yourself a willing agent or you will become one of my soldiers"
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[Since Lace is supposed to be the gift (i.e. hostage), you rather mean the figure's ankle, no? ;D]
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[oh! sorry, didn't get that. my bad...replace the above with:]
A groffel pecks lightly at the figure's ankle. It bears a scroll tube containing a note and a small gold medallion etched simply with a square divided horizontally into two parts. The note reads "You are wise to assist us and shall be rewarded; There is far more than art at stake here. Bring your gift to the rock next to the Howling Well. Wear my amulet at all times to protect you from my soldiers and their contagion."
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[Are you ever on to arrange the transfer? :D As whom?]
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[ I will be on this evening GMT+8 as Haanzz. :D Please forgive the rough spots - it's my first attempt to run such a thing]
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[You know. I feel like you probably should announce some time and date you are there :P It really feels annoying if we wait for you to show up and you don't :P]
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[Sorry, I forget about all the timezone differences. I am typically on from 7pm to 09:30pm pst. I can be on Saturdays from 10am until whenever with occasional breaks. wish we could do this by Private Message but it won't let me send one]
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[Right. Perhaps we can arrange something at noon on Saturday? 1200 PST, 1900 GMT+1]
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"...rather than providing more shipments I have refocused my efforts on gathering
more information.
I have recently made the acquaintance of a woman who represents another organization. She
supplied two subjects who may be useful in our current efforts. Furthermore she
seeks to learn how our aims may run in parallel."
Eremon paused in his writing, pen poised over the parchment as he pondered the
recent encounter. The woman had been very cordial and the two subjects had come more or
less willingly, but the ynnwn subject had proven to be a walking trap. Although her
mind was laced with an amazing amount of magic which had to be very carefully
countered, there was no indication that it had been put there to trap him; no
indication that the ynnwn was other than she appeared - a prisoner.
He placed his quill pen back into its well and sat back, then began drumming the
fingers of his left hand on the table. The real question, and the one he must move
very carefully to answer, was whether the mysterious woman's real purpose - or
more to the point, her intent regarding himself - was as she had said.
He leaned forward and reread what he'd written. Finally he waved a light breeze
across it to dry the ink, sealed it in the scroll tube and sent his groffel on its
way.
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[Way to go! Let everyone know who the bad guys are :P Evirea might as well wear a badge saying "EVIL"]
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You kinda do. :P
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[oh, sorry :( didn't realize that would be a bad thing. There modified it to prevent further spread.]
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You kinda do. :P
Only kinda? :P
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Guys, the "Dark" in Dark Empire comes from the deep emotional troubles and sorrows we face from the dark world. Not from being evil. Totally not.
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I would believe that if Sangwa said that. Or maybe Roberet. They were subtle enough to make even such statements credible. But well ... keep entertaining us with more misinformation!
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I have to inform you that if Roberet were to utter such a statement, he would really mean it. But those mistakes lie in the past :devil:
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[has anyone seen Kaerli in the last week? Have details to discuss with her]
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[I guess you could say Kaerli is AFK...away from Kaerli!]
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Of all the magical ways and spells available to mankind, of all the powers and machinations that twist and coax the mind into action, no force was more effective at provoking illogical, impulsive acts than grief itself. How many times have we seens perfectly healthy widows and bastards wade into the disease infested burrial wells only to sit among the dead and weep for the fallen?
Like the disgusting fungus and viruses that thrive upon the defenseless, Rigwyn crept through the dank caverns in search of a warm, fleshy hand to replace his own. It had never occurred to him to search for living among the dead, and to simply leave the remains in the well. Best of all, it was illegal to enter the burial wells, so even if the handless victim left, they couldn't report the assault without incriminating themselves.
Footsteps grew in the distance, prompting him to step out of view. With his recently amputated wrist in hand - still charred and drizzling a foul, sanguine ooze, Rigwyn hid and waited for this prey to step into the light.
The color of his skin was no match, he was a ylian, and sadly not diaboli (Few were left on the dome). Not appearing to be wealthy or student of the ways, he hissed at him, questioning his reasons for entering the well.
The two men spoke, and before long, it was clear that Haanzz knew something of the necromancer that Suno spoke of the day before. He mentioned Seria, the "warden" whom others spoke of, and a certain reptile who had been a stone in Rigwyn's shoe for quite some time.
Intrigued, but not interested enough to participate in his endeavor, Rigwyn declined his invitation and walked off into the bowels of the rancid well, muttering and complaining about the lack of fresh deaders and the terribly disorganized arrangement of the deceased.
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Roled was worried. The experiment in which Allena had willingly participated, seemingly so benign, had gone unexpectedly, horridly wrong. To be unable to pull her out of that trance was unnerving, then to be berated by that masked pickpocket Snitch added to his anxiety. When the elf had gone back to check on his experimental subject, she was gone. Vanished. No trace.
The Dermorian casually asked around for Allena for a day or two and then with more insistence for yet another day. Last night he had visited Kada Els only to run into a whole group discussing Allena's disappearance. A ywnwnn woman declared that Roled's Sister, Evirea, had offered a reward for finding Allena and the ywnwnn was determined to claim that prize. A sneering, offhandedly attractive Dermorian youth claimed to have argued with Allena two days before, an altercation confirmed by the barkeep. A young fenki said she had seen Allena just the day before at the Stonehead. The conversation stopped when that petty thief the one who practiced scying and the Dark arts, stumbled into the tavern, bruised and beaten, and declared that Evirea herself had been kidnapped! Roled's passions rose and a clammy foreboding drenched him as the Dermorian thief described the klyros' kidnapping. So the group formed a rescue party, and grew in size as the searchers sent groffels and yulbars off entreating allies to join the hunt.
Clues were discovered with warnings of deliberate contagion planted in Evirea, meant apparently to infect the general populace. The rescuers took great care to cover their flesh, mask their breathing, and set out to try to find and free the kyros healer and their friend. Evirea was found, drugged and agitated, outside the portal into Ojaveda. She was brought back to the House Cheshire where the femros was released from the enchantments encasing her neck. Even the thief played his part, calming the agitated Evirea. The rescuers had encircled Vire and cast powerful shields of Brown Way magicks to repel the Azure entrapment as the controlling necklace and chain were riven with great care by the Master smithy mage. That particular evil gem shattered.
What was not shattered, Roled mused, was the plot itself, the abduction of his Sister Evirea. Why? By whom? Who was this Council referred to in the partially burned notes the would be rescuers had found? Why were they burned? And what of Allena? Were Allena's disappearance and Evirea's abduction related? Where was she?
"Poor young nolthrir," Roled thought as guilt seeped back in to fill his sleeplessness. She seemed so vulnerable and yet surprising. Roled remembered his shock as he watched her reverse the effects of magick spells cast, without using any glyphs. How was that possible?
Roled listened to the predawn sounds in the Cheshire Hall- the wheezing of the infected femros and the soft sleeping sounds of friends who had stayed to care for her. Others had gone the night before to search for an antidote to whatever the vile green contagion might be that the scrying had revealed. He turned events over and over in his mind. Finally he prayed to Xiosia for insight and balance and for advice. A dark blue wisp surrounded Roled's chest and blended into the hall's own shadows. The answer to that prayer appeared to the elf in an image, almost visceral. The stately form ghosted in his imagination, regal, strong, self contained, forceful. "The Old Man," he thought, "The Great Mage. I will ask him. No one knows more, or has more insight than he. Aye." Roled quickly wrote a parchment note in the near darkness. Another wisp arose from Roled's hands and Rusco materialized on the end of the bed wagging his stumpy tail sleepily. Roled scratched behind his ear for a moment then tucked the note into his collar. "To our friend" the elf said. Rusco sat up eagerly, then sprang off the bed and disappeared into the mist of not -yet -morning. Disappeared. Like Allena.
Where is she now?
Roled determined to find out.
[Sorry about the reportorial style of this but wanted to add another angle and spinoff plots in this terrifically complex role play. Thanks everyone for the fun last night. More to come I bet! Cross posted with Brimstone and Fire- RR]
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She didn't have time for this.
Most people would panic if they were bound and dumped in the ruins awaiting some interrogation. But no, she was just flat out frustrated. She had evidence to gather against that tyrant Seria, she had Allena to find, she had Rigwyn to stop and she had a potential demon on the loose. Bloody realms, she had two surgeries she needed to perform and one of them was an emergency. She didn't have time for some nutty Azure Mage to dig his fingers into her head. She didn't have time to be kidnapped.
In the distance, through the crack of the dilapidated tower, she could see the dot of the fifth familiar darting by with some note she couldn't answer. Great. Some violent crackpot had probably gone on a killing spree on the plaza or something. There were people bleeding out all over the place and they were trying to get her to come, but there she sat, bound, with her ever so glorious kidnapper snoring against the far wall.
What she was most infuriated about was the fact that she'd allowed herself to be taken. She'd stopped being paranoid for two seconds and now she was paying for it. “Wouldja mind readin' one o' yer stories to me, lass?” Fell for it hook, line and sinker. She thought she was above flattery, but she wasn't above the love of literature. He's illiterate and doesn't want to admit it, she'd thought to herself. She felt bad for him! Of course she'd read to him! What could it hurt?
Idiot. She was such an idiot. By the time he'd slid that ring onto her finger, it had been too late for her to jerk her hand away. It made her follow him around like a lost lamb. Some sort of Azure Enchantment. Now that nobody was questioning her it wasn't so bad, but whenever the questions were flying it made her head throb and her tongue bleed from biting to keep from spilling her guts.
“My, you are a popular one.” Evirea looked up and glared at the ynnwn woman before her. Over seven feet tall, there was no way she was anything else, even though her face was blotted out by her hood and dark way shadows. “Who are you, exactly?”
The klyros just smirked. Wasn't her fault if they didn't do their research before snatching someone. If there were consequences, good. It was stupid to just think you could start taking people and...
Her captor's hand smacked across her face, a slap so violent she toppled over to the side, flailing awkwardly with her wrists and ankles locked together.
“I don't like your cheek,” the woman said. “But it doesn't matter. He'll be here soon, and trust me honey, you won't be able to fight him. We'll let you go though, I promise. Never fear. We just need to know a few things, hm?”
“I'm not about to share anything with a temperamental bi...”
Another slap tossed her to the other side. Her face stung. Sometimes she wished she knew when to keep her mouth shut. But she tended to have less than perfect judgment sense when she was pissed. She could only hope that Ilase would find her. She'd shared his ability with far too many people, that was true. But something told her he wouldn't turn his back on her now. Despite other's qualms about him, there was compassion in that man. She wasn't so eager to just give him up for nothing. He wasn't nothing. He was sly, quick-witted. He'd just been hurt, and that hurt made him bitter. Wasn't something she could blame him for. She knew that feeling all too well. Did she trust him? Maybe not. But she liked him. And if he'd let her in, she wanted to help him. Like so many, he didn't need another haughty naysayer looking down on him. He needed to be reminded of his worth.
She had too many secrets that weren't hers. Trusted secrets. Not just valuable ones, but sensitive ones from people who told her because they knew she wouldn't share. She couldn't betray that trust, she couldn't. She didn't care if it made her head explode, this ass wasn't getting his hands on those thoughts.
“Finally,” the ynnwn said. A ylian entered the room, looking at her rather brazenly and unmasked. She memorized his features, his height and build. Yes, she had to cement him in her mind. She had to...
He stooped down and placed an amulet around her head. She felt a presence seeping into her mind, insidious yet potent, and. And he. He asked her...
It was gone. It was gone? What had happened, what had he asked? Where was she? Oh gods, oh gods. She couldn't remember.
She couldn't remember...
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[ "There were people bleeding out all over the place and they were trying to get her to come, but there she sat, bound, with her ever so glorious kidnapper snoring against the far wall."
This story is kicking ass in a major way.
]
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The man sat staring at his steepled fingers, seething over recent events. They would say he'd moved too fast and require him to slow down his research. But he wasn't getting any younger !! Older, in fact; every day a little older. Some days, like today, he swore he aged several days' worth.
First, the woman who styled herself Warden of the Dark Empire had been betrayed by her own Captain, which was itself a matter of little concern, but in her frantic attempts to defend herself before the gathered crowd she had loudly and publicly declared that she was seeking to betray "the evil necromancer". Misguided as her assumptions were, she obviously referred to himself.
Next, his best agent had been revealed in taking the woman, Evirea. Worse, when he probed her mind he found that while it seemed a jade-mine of information, it was too brittle. Too brittle and damaged for him to extract the information he needed without killing her thanks to some second-rate fool who'd apparently set out to destroy her in the clumsiest use of azure magic conceivable. And what was supposed to have been a quick side-trip for the woman, unnoticed by anyone, turned into a full scale manhunt. No fewer than five messenger-beasts had come looking for her in the time it took him to get to the site where she was held. Five! And if his information was correct there had been a good dozen or more searching for her.
Finally, when the crowd had located her they'd immediately removed and destroyed both his ring and amulet almost as if they knew about them! That fact made him uneasy indeed...how could they possibly have known ?
Of course he had gotten one inestimably valuable clue from her; that alone had been worth compromising his agent. And he could acquire more agents. That one piece of information would be worth a great deal to the Council. A great deal.
He could also commend the council for having sent him such a capable 'adviser'. He hated that woman sometimes. She was companionable enough, true, but she had the annoying habit of being right entirely too often. Still, if he could focus them on what had been gained he could avoid their order to slow down. This research must be completed!
Having decided on a course of action he smoothed out the parchment before him --how he wished they'd stop being such INFANTS about mind-speaking-- took up his quill pen and began to write.
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Scrying. That's how they knew. Rather than bringing the klyros Evirea as promised, Seria had warned her of his interest and she took steps to prepare for abduction. To lead her comrades to him. That explained many things. From her ability to resist his probing to the lack of anticipated spread of the disease. Months of preparation, wasted. Two of his best agents exposed. And the Council had discovered it before he had.
Eremon crumpled the parchment in his fist, rage overtaking him for just an instant before his Azure mastery reasserted itself.
"Well" he said calmly "You're a tricky one klyros, but you must sleep sometime."
He chuckled to himself darkly, as if in enjoyment of some private joke. Then he took up quill and parchment and began to write...
"Fear not, The damage is negligable. Ties have been severed. Old agents are extracted and new are already taking their places.
As the old line of research has proved fruitless, we have terminated it. Your recommendation of slower and more subtle inquiry shall be heeded."
He winced slightly as he wrote the final sentence of his terse missive. It galled him, but they did hold the purse strings.
Once the scroll was safely away with his groffel he turned his thoughts to new avenues and schemes.
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Hi :D Is there still something going on, in that rp? Where is Lace actually?
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[Yes...its just gone underground. You may have already mey one of his agents and not known it. As for Lace, I don't have him. ]
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"...if you will recall, was the Council's strong recommendation that we proceed at this painfully slow pace. Even so, I have established several more agents, and identified four potential sources of interest and one potential ally."
He sat back, dropped the quill pen into its well, and considered his wording. He was annoyed and felt justified in expressing it. This new Council head was inexperienced and quite intrusive to his work. Since he had identified two particular sources of interest the council was anxious to secure and study them and they kept harassing him for updates as if he was some neophyte whose every step had to be watched.
True, he conveniently omitted a few details such as the uncovering of one of his agents by that troublesome klyros. True, he omitted the fact that he'd had to move prematurely on some plans and adapt others. But the klyra was coming into the fold -- a positive detail he ommitted -- and she would make an excellent agent, perhaps even council member.
He sighed, cleared his thoughts with a quick meditative breath then took up the pen to finish scratching out the message.
"As for your other request, I should be able to send another shipment within a few days time."
He signed it, sealed it and sent the groffel flying on its way.
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painfully slow pace
:D
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[The hard part seem to be getting people to write about their experiences. We had an 18-20 character battle in which Eremon was captured...and no write ups. Granted I'm no Rigwyn or Mariana, with their flair for dramatic writing either, but I had hoped for more. I an considering closing this thread, while keeping the storyline going...unless anyone has constructive advice on getting comments?]
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[Let the characters involved know that they can write their experiences here.]
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[He's done that already. I still intend to write one. Real life is just keeping me too busy for it lately.]
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[same here I just a lot of work stuff]
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[This is my first time doing an RP write-up, so expect mistakes ;-) ]
Night of the Battle: Celroc's Point-of-View
Celroc rests up in Hydlaa, anticipating the coming battle, until he is awoken by a certain silver-winged bird that bears a note. Trying to hold off his nervousness, he seems to know what the note holds before he even reads it. It is time to enter the battle.
Wasting no time, he summons his Rivnak and heads out through the forest to the Bronze Doors Road, arriving at a certain gobble-infested lake. He takes a few steps in, and it seems he slowly begins to make a realization as he wades deeper and deeper: "This is it. These are the moments before the battle. My friends are counting on me. I can't let them down now..." are the thoughts running through his head in nervous anticipation as he finally takes a deep breath and puts his head under the water....
He looks and looks through the water, finally seeing the group gathered there under the water. He moves to join them, and thanks to Rykia's command over the Blue Way, he is able to breathe under the water. And there he would sit, waiting for the signal. Perhaps a cruel twist in irony, the signal is planned to be a stone being skipped across the water in his group's direction; Celroc holds fond memories of skipping stones across a river with his brothers as he was growing up, yet it now becomes a signal for a terrifying battle about to ensue.
While waiting for the signal, a Nolthrir gentleman by the name of Elion makes him an offer: Instead of trying to run through water all the way to the shore, he would use a magic spell of shadows that would expediently carry both of them to shore. Celroc agrees gratefully, of course wanting to get to shore-- or, more accurately, to the love of his life at the shore, Prreta, -- as quickly as possible. A stone comes skipping across the water, nearly hitting Mariana on its way, and the group hurries to shore! Elion's plan is sucessful and he and Celroc are the first two to arrive on the battlefield, but it's not long at all before the entire group arrives.
Celroc stops for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what exactly it is he sees: several people stand in front of him. "Are they truly undead? They look like... people," he wonders. The only undead that he's ever witnessed were monstrous grendols and morbid wrathrats, obvious abominations brought forth by necromancy. He never expected them to look like what he saw there...
He is very quickly snapped out of it as a large Ynwynn, Anorack in front of him grabs Prreta and takes her over his shoulder. He shouts "LET GO OF HER!" and raises his axe, preparing to fight. However, upon seeing the Ynwynn turn and run, he dashes after. Realizing that if he could accidentally hit Prreta if he swings his axe to attack, he decides instead to throw his weight at Anorack in a tackle, hoping to be able wrestle the Fenki free from his grasp...
Immediately before Celroc's tackle connects with the Ynwynn, a knife thrown by an expert in the art, Sarren, sends a chunk of Anorack's flesh flying; yet, it does not bleed at the point where it hit. As Celroc's tackle connects, bringing the fleeing undead to his knee before he tries to roll away from the Menki, Celroc can see the aforementioned wound, a reminder that what he's fighting is not a regular, living, breathing person. Celroc quickly gets to his feet, runs to position himself strategically over Anorack, who is now lying on the ground. With his axe raised, he swings viciously to the Ynwynn, whose body is now acting as a shield, protecting Prreta from the oncoming hit. The hit from his axe causes severing damage to the his spinal chord...
The Ynwynn still holds Prreta despite his wounds, and is trying to crawl away using his arms specifically. It would seem Celroc's attack disabled the Anorack's lower body, and thus his ability to run. However, before Celroc can do anything more, one of the undead minions charges at him armed with a sword, intending to impale it through the Menki's back. Now, Celroc has never been much of a warrior. Someone with real battle instinct would probably have raised the shield in their hand against the sword to block it. But Celroc, on the other hand, tries to jump away from the sword, apparently forgetting that he even has a shield. He's not quick enough to fully dodge, but at least avoids being impaled; he is instead sliced across his chest, the blade JUST shy from hitting his lungs, and falls backwards into the grass.
He hears Prreta's familiar voice say "Celroc, no!! I'm trying to help you!" as he falls. He tries to stand to his feet again, and seems to quickly figure that it is just the Necromancer's influence on Prreta that made her comply with going with the Ynwynn. Looking down to his chest, he immediately sees the blood beginning to flow, and in a panic begins to cast what little Crystal Way he knows on himself in an attempt to stop the bleeding. At the same time, Kaerli and Masaro both step in to heal him using a flood of magic. His wound is closed and life is saved thanks to them.
Upon being healed, he turns to face Anorack and Prreta again, but is in for a surprise or two: First, there is a strange newcomer, a female Ynwynn named Daloda, walking closer to Prreta annd her captor. Next, Elion summoned a minion and gave it the sole purpose of protecting Celroc, and Celroc alone. Celroc's focus is mainly on the new Ynwynn, not quite aware that he even has a guardian minion yet...
After Daloda blocks a Crystal-based attack by Kaerli, she turns around and begins to flee. However, much to Celroc's surprise, Prreta jumps up and runs after her. Without a moment to lose, Celroc bolts after the two, being followed by both Kaerli and his new guardian. Kaerli manages to get ahead of them both, halting them, and Celroc runs in from behind, trying to hit Daloda with his axe before she can make a grab for Prreta. His arm raised, ready to swing... and he is stopped, restrained by the minion as a means to protect him. Celroc struggles a bit, trying to break free from the minion and is finally let go, but at this point it is too late: Daloda now holds Prreta with a knife to her throat.
Prreta tells Celroc that she is trying to help him by going along with Daloda, and that she will be back; However, Celroc suspects the Necromancer's influence again and disregards what she says. Realizing that this is a hostage situation, he does not come any closer to Daloda, but his guardian inches ever closer. Celroc pleads with him to be careful for Prreta's sake, but the minion's only goal, much to Celroc's dismay, is to keep HIM specifically safe, not Prreta. Thankfully, Daloda decides to release Prreta and make a run for it, but does not get more than about ten steps away before an arrow from the distance comes and pierces through her head. Kaerli had apparently run to one of the hills with her bow ready, just waiting for the perfect shot...
Celroc becomes much, much more relieved having Prreta safe. After looking her over for injuries, the two decide to return to the main group on the battlefield. Celroc didn't realize how far from the group he became as he ran, and the two Enkidukai, Kaerli, and Elion's minion hurry back to rejoin the group.
At this point, the battle is mostly over, or atleast it would seem. The others are finishing up on the remaining undead. However, Rykia brings Celroc and Prreta some frightening news: That Evirea was in rough shape after the battle. Celroc and Prreta rush forward to find her, being looked over by Sacho. It is there they learn that the Klyros mind was afflicted and heavily damaged from her attempt to catch the Necromancer.
Evirea was promptly brought to the Stonehead Tavern in Gugrontid, and Chays there to undo the damage done to her. He entered Evirea's mind, and allowed everyone the chance to watch as he restored what was broken. After working on her mind, her body was also tended to by the healer, Caraick. Although Evirea didn't seem happy with being his patient, she did allow his help.
Sarren was also wounded to a degree worse than he would admit. He sat on a bench to the side, bleeding, refusing any help offered to him until everyone else was healed first. As noble as it was, Celroc also had a bit of trouble trying to convince Sarren that it was his turn to be healed....
Celroc sadly doens't remember much of what happened after that. After such a long and intense battle, his body began to feel weak and tired, and he drifted off to sleep in one of the empty seats while the rest of the tavern continued to heal each other and talk about the battle. And thus ends a enduring day of battle for Celroc.
[I leave Evirea's and Sarren's healing to be described by someone who knows the details of the story better. They would do a better job than I.]
Celroc Amaul
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Ilase was starting to grow accustomed to the pain during the long hours alone at Kada-El's. He reflected on the battle as the last of the Azure Sun's light faded. He shouldn't have started with the weak spell as if these undead were mere wrathrats to be shooed aside - what was he thinking? At the very least, he could have started with trying to take control of the necromancer's minions, though that hadn't worked either.
He sighed. He'd tried to do something decent, for once, and ended up with an animated shadow shattering the bones in his right knee. In the moment his mind had exploded with pain, but now, the memory was oddly clear. Not even the injury had stopped him from at least trying to keep casting spells, his mind unfocused as he sent random bursts of energy out without even knowing which glyphs he was using. The attempt to wrest one of the undead from the necromancer's grasp had occurred after the injury - once he was able to ignore at least some of the pulsing ache, his profusely-bleeding knee even more soaked than the rest of him. He wondered if he could have managed that feat, if his head had been clear. Necromancy was so cliche, though. Every wannabe Dark Way master and their groffel hung around those shelves in the Realm's libraries, eyeing the others suspiciously. The elf was convinced his own plans weren't nearly so foolish.
Once again, he recalled crawling towards Evirea, trying to help her, the part of the battle he'd played in his mind over and over again. What would he even have done? He still let her remain too close to his heart. It had opened the door for others to do the same – as he thought of this, he almost felt Mariana's magical warmth, thanking the Lady for whatever mishap had led her to emanate it. Only now did he have the time and clarity of mind to be embarrassed by the way he'd clung to her, like a baby seeking comfort. There had even been tears. Maybe he had already gone soft without knowing it a long time ago. His associates would be displeased. Ilase entertained the idea of running away like he should have in the first place. Except, he reminded himself, he may never be able to run again.
A knock sounded at the door and he smiled to himself. The visitors all tended to come at once, but at least they'd take his mind off of things for a little while.