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

[Maltruism]

In the moods prevalent in battle, calm consideration is largely absent. So it is understandable that reckless assaults on the door would occur for some time before any would consider that this tomb, the very resting place of the Immortal father of this ellune race, city and continent, would almost certainly be guarded and sealed by magic. No visual, auditory or tactile effect was gained by any action from without, as the mechanism for release was inside.

But still the effort was expended. What manner of hero would not try everything that could be tried to gain access to the source of such evil that had beset Idalos for the last cycle? But cheers of encouragement eventually gave way to tears of frustrated failure. And still worse was to come...

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On the roof of the tomb, Ti' Niva's arrow flew true to its mark, and passed through it without effect, to bring a deflating distant clatter, as it struck the stone tiles on the far side, to the ears of the bowman. The image of Lisirra and Aelig did not even so much as look upon their assailant before shimmering and blinking out. One can only assume that dread of the trickery captivated this bowman's heart as the vicious laughter of his intended target now sounded from his near right.

Lisirra, the true Immortal, and not the false image Aelig had created to fool Ti' Niva, made a casual wave of her hand and the bow was suddenly crawling with insects of hideous appearance, mandibles clacking hungrily, dripping with glistening toxins. Whether or not he dropped the weapon had no effect on the speed with which Lisirra and Aelig converged upon him. "Well shot, dear lad, but did you honestly believe we did not know you were there?" she crooned in mocking compassion as she gently patted his cheek. "Still, I concede the victory to you, and hope it makes your crushing return to the valley below enjoyable for you." her voice turned harsh as she pressed her hand to Ti'Niva's chest, intent upon hurling him back into the cold air, to fall to his likely death.

Salvation came from the unexpected source beside her as Aelig grabbed her arm and shook his head. Lisirra turned in surprise, but accommodated his unspoken request. A wicked glee even lit her features as she came to understanding of his strategy. "Yes, yes, splendid. But we can not let him be seen for this to be effective."

She turned back to sneer in Ti'Niva's face, "Take heart, young man, not only are you to be spared, you will be remembered for all of what little time your fellow mortals below have left to them." She snapped her fingers, and a pair of nearikk came to take the prisoner below at her bidding. Though they were not her minions technically, Audrae had given them strict instructions to feign obedience. They locked the bowman in arm holds and pulled him towards the rooftop doorway leading down to the tomb as Aelig began his next tactical effort.

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Below, Aeon heroically maintained his composure in the face of the hellish tortures he saw inflicted on the newly resurrected Treid. It was not as if they were inflicted upon him, but many heroes would have been unmanned by the spectacle of such horrors. Syroa herself occasionally glanced his way with a smile of such hateful joy that might also have turned a staunch hero into an abject coward.

But while, she quickly tired of his presence and was on the verge of having him slain, a thought occurred to her that he might be of use to her cohorts above. Audrae seconded her command to a pair of naerikk warriors to have him escorted up the steep, narrow stairs to the roof. The Matron of Augiery took on an ever-increasing look of distraction, as if she was counting down the ticks to some event. The remaining naerikk picked up on this, and began to move nonchalantly towards other doorways, as if in mere random boredom. Syroa took no notice. The barest hint of a smile tweaked the corners of Audrae's mouth.

In the steep, narrow stairway to the roof, two surprised pairs of escorts froze as they encountered each other, having been unaware of each having been sent up or down. Aeon and Ti'Niva locked eyes, knowing that this moment alone may be the last opportunity to strike a blow against the machinations of the evil occupying the tomb and its roof. In this unmonitored space between, they might possibly win free of immediate captivity, to plan some last strategy. They had not been chained, and their escorts wore weapons...

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Outside the tomb, the gathered heroes were running out of ideas to gain entrance. But as the relative quiet of discussion held sway, the screams of Treid still found their way through the walls. At first the mortals' ears cringed at the suffering contained in the unspeakable cries of the Ice Lord. But as his resistance waned, coherent words began to be discernible among his howls of agony. Syroa's own commands to explain also breached the stunned gasps of the mortals as Treid's words found disbelieving ears.

"An Immortal child....Son...daughter, I do not....Nooo..." screams once again dominated his utterances. "Yes, I already said...Delana....not with her...Emea....the dark presence there....the scar...HER scar.....her only cost to herself....The Shattering! It was her! I swear it...no stop. It's all I ever learned!" Even those moving among the downed nearikk, administering death blows, stopped in shock to hear more. But Aelig's next phase now began to manifest in a rumble of marching feet from beyond the horizon of the nearby landscape.

Ranks upon ranks of shadow soldiers steadily climbed into view all across the horizon. They advanced steadily, as the stricken heroes responded in a futile effort to spread out and avoid being flanked. But where three-to-one had been the ratio of the trial up to this point, it now appeared to number closer to ten times the number of those gathered at the Tomb entrance.

Though they appeared as exclusively shadow beasts, with no naerikk among them, they marched with discipline, stopping short in ordered ranks before the heroes as now one single naerikk stood forth from the rest, clad in command armor and insignia. "Heroes of Idalos, hear my words and give them due consideration, for death is the only alternative left you!" she shouted.

"See before you now the might arrayed against you. Only the small portion at your feet have you thus far dispatched. You feel that you are threatened with annihilation, I understand, but it is not so. Are we, the children of Audrae, not also mortal? Would our Mother Creator command us to support a mission that must result in our extinction? As warriors ourselves, we give credit to your efforts. Those who say we do not honor the valor of our foes speak lies, and we would not see you die fruitlessly. We are of one kind, regardless of the animosities inherent in our opposing devotions. Do not force us to destroy you.

"Hate us if you must, we welcome the contention, and the opportunities for battle to win renown. But what renown is there to be enjoyed when it comes not from the tongue of the defeated? What truth is there in victors speaking tales of their triumphs when it can not be backed up by the losers? If you will not honorably surrender, I promise you that you will be honorably slain. But then there will be naught to protect your homes from the criminal cowards that shied from this fight. Will you lay down your lives here, knowing that cheats and perverts now walk the streets of your homelands with none to hinder their lusts?"

She motioned to one behind her and a gap formed in the ranks as someone was brought forward to stand beside her. "If you will not believe I speak true, then hear it from one of your own." and now she was joined by a soldier of Sev'ryn blood, a bow still clenched in his hand. Ti'Niva now stood beside the naerikk commander, aligned, it seemed, on the side, or at least this new cause of surrender, with the shadow forces.

"It is true, my brothers. The cause is lost, but our lives need not be. No soldier ever won every fight they were in. Retreat is not dishonorable, only desertion. This is no desertion. We are beset by numbers only a mad man, or mad Immortal, would expect us to stand against. I say we have no obligation to engage such a force at their bidding. Look now, I relinquish my bow, and they do no hurt to me. Do the same, I beg you my brothers-in-arms. This is a fight from which any sane commander would have us retreat. Lay down your arms. These scheming Immortals have now gotten what they want. We all heard Treid's words. He had knowledge pertinent to their existence and hoped to conceal it. Is it any wonder they went to lengths to gather this intelligence? It is only these so-called "Good" Immortals that placed us in this untenable position. We are given word that surrender will be met with freedom to leave this place. We do not belong here anyway."

It was unknown if any present among the heroic forces would recognize and confirm Ti'Niva's voice. It might also go unnoticed that these new shadow soldiers responded to the moves and new positions of the beleaguered mortals before them, though many still wore Ufrek's charm...

[Ti'niva]

First came a laugh, an evil laugh that revealed Ti's foolishness. He had failed and at that moment he was sure it was time to embrace death. He had done all he could he had thrown himself into dangers way for all Mortal kind and found himself now at deaths door. Bugs and insects covered the bow and his hand in the blink of an eye. Ti dropped the bow even as the woman immortal was upon, she moved with inhuman speed. He felt her small hand pat his cheek, his jaw tensed and he looked her in the eyes struggling to remain where he was. She may have been able to kill him with the slightest movement, but he would show her no fear. "I may be afraid of you, but I will not give you the satisfaction of seeing me trying to escape." The words came out with venom and hate that could almost be felt in the air. He stood tall as he felt her hand press against his chest. Every part of him tensed as he readied himself to be flung from the structure to his death.

Then something unexpected happened. The other immortal whom Ti did not recognise, but was shocked by the terrifying appearance of, grabbed Lisirra's hand and stopped her. His whole body relaxed, his tense muscles released and his body slumped a little. He heard the woman speak as if she had realised something, "Yes, yes, splendid. But we can not let him be seen for this to be effective." He remembered it carefully he must not be seen. To him it translated as whatever happened he needed to be seen by as many people as possible, or at least allies. She turned to him and sneered in his face as he glared at her and couldn't help but feel a small smile curl into his lips. He was going to ruin there plan somehow, even if it killed him.

He was seized by two of the warrior women and pulled away from the two immortals. He complied with the two women allowing them to guide him into the long thin stairwell down to the tomb. As soon as he entered into the stair well his ears were filled with the agonized screams of a man. They caused his stomach to churn and his heart to ache for the poor subject of the cruel torture taking place deep bellow him. The two women who held him were thin and did not appear to be as strong as the ones that had been fighting outside, each carried a sword and a dagger and one had a shield hung across her back. Ti eyed the dagger closest too him as they began the long journey down the stairs.
The trio rounded the corner in the stairs and stood before them was another trio they were about twelve steps away. The two groups paused ever so briefly but continued, a fatal mistake. Ti recognised the man, was the knight who was thrown by the giants. There eyes locked and a wave of realisation came over him, this was their chance to escape. He could feel the other mans agreement as Ti nodded to him. They were now three steps away and Ti'niva took his chance.

He raised his foot up and lunged it forward into the sternum of the woman who was holding onto his new found allies left arm. He felt it make contact with the bone as it compressed into her lungs and knocked the wind out of her. She released the man as she went tumbling backwards until she came to the corner below them and her head smacked hard against the frozen surface. He felt his foot below him slip, as he tried to keep balanced following the kick, and his body fell backwards with heavy force enough to bring the two women with him.

His eyes closed as their bodies slammed into the steps and Ti groaned as he forced himself to take no respite. He quickly grabbed the dagger which he had eyed the whole way down and pulled it from its leather sheathe. The woman who had not had the shield to protect her back had slammed into the steps and been knocked unconscious, the other however attempted to push herself back up. The effort was futile as Ti found himself instinctively ontop of her forcing her back against the ground. He had never killed another person this close before and there was something that seemed soul corrupting about it. Ti felt the blade push its way through the thin leather armour of the conscious woman below him, then the softer flesh and finally the hard bone as it broke through a rib and sank into her heart. Ti felt sick to his stomach as the woman was drained of life below him her eyes locked with his stopping him from looking away before the pupils dilated and the last breath slivered from her.

Ti rolled off of her still warm corpse and vomited onto the stairs. His stomach completely empty of contents only released acidic bile that burnt his throat. He looked over to the other man curious how he had dealt with the other woman who he had not kicked. He appeared to have dealt with her with much more ease and composure than Ti had his own captor. He did not take time for introductions and went straight to the point. "We get out there. Me must be seen. They copy my image for something evil." He said remembering what he had heard on the roof.

He stood before the man and wiped his mouth smearing the blood that now coated his hand across his face. "We need get door open or go roof!" He added leaving the choice of which direction they went to the man before him. He did not know how many people were below them or if they could even open the door by themselves. "You choose, roof or door." He said finally taking the dagger and sword from the unconscious woman, he could not bring himself to touch the woman he had killed. He placed the dagger in his belt and kept the sword in hand. He awaited the mans orders.
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[Noth]

Everything hurt. Out of all the sensory information flooding the air, out of all the screams and vile gurgling noises that erupted out of soon to be dead corpses, of the blood still spilled upon the ground along with entrails and guts and limbs, the only thing that truly came to the wounded Noth was that he himself was hurt. Thankfully, it seemed as though his assorted allies had decided to recklessly hammer into the enemy line enough to keep them focused on fighting fresh enemies instead of hunting down the wounded. Slowly, the twilight hybrid limped away from the battle, content to stay out of the way of deadly blades and axes for at least a few moments.

His plan to bait the daughters of Audrae had been at least somewhat successful. Tearing apart the young one’s face had done wonders for provoking her fleshly sister, and she had charged him almost immediately, screaming more epithets and curses than he knew even existed. That same rage made her extremely clumsy, and for the second time he had managed to perform a very similar trick, disarming her and slashing out her heel with his vicious predatory talons. He had never truly used the sharpened appendages as weapons before, but he was finding that they made wonderfully deadly instruments, though the added feeling of having flesh underneath one’s nails had made them at least somewhat uncomfortable to use. Discomfort had been chosen over disembowelment, and thus the talons had found themselves stuffed full of viscera and chunky flesh.

The warrior woman had dropped onto a knee, disarmed of her weapon, and screaming out in rage and pain. He had glared down at her with contempt, crimson eyes challenging her to make a final move, some final plea to save her forfeited life. He brought his mace up into the air, feeling the weight of the club-like weapon before preparing to send it hurtling into the woman’s nose; an act that would almost certainly kill her. If he had been better trained in the arts of using a mace, he would have known that to raise his weapon so far into the air left him open to other attacks, though this knowledge was quickly discovered when a hunting knife lashed across his thigh and nearly dropped him. His aim had gone wide, hitting her with far weaker force in the shoulder.

He continued battering down, but not before the raging warrior had managed to lash her knife across his legs several times, and even jab the pointed instrument into his hip once. There was only a single crackle when he finally made contact with her nose, sending the offending bone deep into her brain. She dropped without a single noise, no gurgle as the others had held as they died, and that had simply not been satisfying enough for the murderous Avriel, especially not after she had inflicted so much pain. He grasped hold of her hair, battering it against the ground over, and over, and over, and over. His arms tired of exertion far before he tired of committing the act, and when he had finished he had determined that despite his relative inability to cook, he had managed to create a fine meat stew.

The knife wounds were thankfully relatively shallow, but they still bled enough to cause crimson liquid to trickle down his leg, sinking in-between his talons and marking every step with a bloody footprint. He giggled once at this, realizing fairly quickly that some manner of shock was probably beginning to set in, though as he lacked any true medical expertise, he had no idea whatsoever what to do about it. That was what had led him to his current position, sitting upon the ground a few dozen feet away from the battle lines, bleeding slowly onto the ground, and staring off blankly at the encroaching shadowy army, and wondering what hope they had to truly win their battle.

There were screams, terrible and awful screams that seemed to hint at some manner of Immortal scandal, though that was somewhat boring to the already wounded and battered Avriel. The screams were visceral and ungodly in their creation, and such noises quickly reminded the Avriel of his purpose, why he had chosen to embark upon this terrible quest in the first place. Had it not been to find some more information about his godling foes, and to remove the oppressive hand that had been placed upon him by his pureblooded Avriel cousins?

The battle seemed as though it would soon be over, and yet the murderous Avriel found himself once more upon his feet, clutching at a half dozen leg wounds as he stumbled about the battleground, searching to complete at least one of his missions, even if it meant further securing their fate.

He would not be denied his vengeance.

[Vincent D'Ordyn]

The Gates to the Tomb of Tried

As Vincent's forces crashed into the flank of the wall of Naerikk that held the gates of the tomb they were met with fierce attacks and crazed devotion as the stepped into the assault. As the front lines stepped into the attack those behind them fled into the tomb and with a loud boom the door was shut.

The women fought savagely. Vincent only barely caught a sword on his shield that would have otherwise gutted him. Turning with the blow to send it wide and stepping in to close the distance he drove his sword into the Naerikk's side. With the last of her power the woman lashed out with her nails and attempted to rake them across his face. With a quick sharp kick to her chest Vincent put some distance between him and his foe as well as pulling his blade free.

Bits past and finally the last of the Naerikk's vanguard fell to the ally's of Tried, and Vincent had his first chance to catch his breath and rest. Thought his respite was short lived. As some tried to gain access to the tomb, an army of shadows led by a single Naerikk woman approached the defenders now holding position at the door.

Standing, Vincent looked out over the army that now faced them. Vincent couldn't only curse as he pondered the odds of making it out of this snowy hell alive. Closing his eyes Vincent could only think of Sabine's face. "Sorry Bine, not sure I'll be able to keep that promise to you." Opening his eyes back onto the army that now stood across the snowy plains from him and those with him at the gates.

Hefting his shield and stepping up, and placing himself between the coming army. Turning his head back to those still trying to gain access to the Tomb, Vincent hollered back "If you're going to do something, now's the time to do it." His voice taking on a bit of gruffness in an attempt to hide the fear that was beginning to creep into it.

The Ellune he had saved breaks earlier, stepped up to him and gave a grim nod. "I stand with you Shield Bearer." With a small half grin the Ellune nodded to Vincent's shield, answering his unasked question.

Returning the nod, Vincent turned back to the shadow army and braced for the fight of his life.

[Aeon]

On the outside, the blond man was trying his best to hide every bit of fear that was inside him. He was even relatively succeeding, seeing how the only indicators that he was afraid were his knees and hands shaking, his eyes completely red and pupils dilated, as well as a small gap between his lips. On the inside, however, he had thought about puking, screaming, crying and fighting all at once, multiple times, all from the immediate fear. Seeing something such as Immortals torturing a being, whatever being that is, truly made a person think about their own strength. How powerless, helpless, they really are, but Aeon wouldn't give the sadistic bitches the pleasure of knowing his thoughts.

Finally, they came to a decision about him, or so it seemed, as the two naerikk who were still holding him up with quite a bit of effort now started dragging his feet across the cold floor of the tomb towards the staircase which Aeon hadn't even noticed up until that point. That meant he was either going to be killed on the roof, in front of his allies, or there were more Immortals. Less busy ones, that could bother themselves with a flying cripple that had bored the monster Immortal and the naerikk Immortal.

On the stairs, however, was a sight Aeon wasn't expecting. He wasn't even prepared for it, but he knew what was needed of him as soon as he saw the long-haired man's eyes. It was clear that the four naerikk were confused by the situation, and Ti'niva seemed to know how to use it to their advantage. Just as the woman holding the boy's left hand was kicked down the stairs, Aeon pushed the other one into the wall with all the strength he had, and before she could regain her focus, she had her own dagger stuck in her chest. In only a few trills, the two were free again, and they had four dead women at their feet. One of which had Aeon's sword, the young man reminded himself, and quickly dropped a couple of steps to the kicked one and raised his blade again.

It was just too much information all at once, as the Sev'ryn started speaking. His image being copied meant Immortals, more Immortals, on the roof, definitely. The four naerikk, they were surprised to see each other, which meant the roof didn't know Aeon was coming, and the floor didn't know the Sev'ryn was coming. So, as long as they stood on the stairs, they were completely safe. For a little while, at least.

Think, Aeon, think. Think. THINK. The boy kept saying within his mind, as countless ideas flew past reality, even the ones with lowest chances of success, even the craziest ones. He needed to at least think about every single possibility, if he couldn't try it out, since if they failed, it didn't mean only their deaths, it probably meant the deaths of everyone out there. Every single one of their allies' lives was at stake, so the question was way more complicated than Roof or door.

"Guards on every door, Treid in the center, monster to the left, other Immortal further up. Too far to jump. Can I? No, Immortals, we'd need at least two more as a distraction. Roof. More Immortals. They must be behind the shadows. Yes, naerikk Immortal down, shadows Immortal up." Aeon kept mumbling and pacing around for several trills, each word not letting the one before it be fully heard as they went out. One thing was for sure, to the Sev'ryn, and any other normal being, those words were not audible. "They're not expecting anyone. Maybe." He said as he looked up, towards the roof, trying to measure the height of the Tomb.

"Hey, I'm gonna hope you understand me. I have a plan, it might not work, you might not like it, but it's all we got right now, so you're gonna have to follow it unless you have a better one or want to die pointlessly. I'm getting onto the roof first, and I'm gonna try to kill the Immortal that makes those shadows, if I succeed, awesome, we win. And in case I don't, I'm gonna need you to jump." Aeon continued, finally taking a break for a big amount of air, just so he could continue talking once more. Sure, the Sev'ryn might not want to jump from a roof, but Aeon doubted he would be able to fight of the Immortals for long enough so he could climb down. "There's snow down there, so you can survive, just don't land directly on your feet, or on your front. Try to roll the trill you reach the ground, it's gonna make the fall easier on you. If you're right, and they copied your image, you're gonna need to run as soon as you get down there, since you'll be more important to the Immortals than me. Try to run towards our forces, so that they see you as soon as possible and then even if you die, they might yet live." Aeon finally said, now shifting his gaze from the walls towards Ti'niva, and looking at just how freaked out he looked. Surely, the boy didn't look any better, with sweat freezing on his skin and his eyes red and wet.

"Look, man, I'm going to be honest with you. We're both dead, all we can do right now is choose how to die. We can die trying to save our friends and families from these monsters, or we can die like cowards hiding on these stairs. Since it's your image they copied, it's really up to you. And if we save our allies and don't die, I want you to know, you're the bravest person I've ever met." The scarred man said as he raised a shield with his right hand, and attached it to his left arm, somehow, in quite a sloppy way. For it not to slip away, he needed to bind is so tightly, it would cut through his skin in about a couple of bits. Near the end of his speech, however, he stopped what he was doing, and simply closed his eyes picturing his father, and Ryqos, awaiting him in death. Aeon was scared, scared of dying, scared of failing, scared of literally everything around him, but that fear was now behind him. That fear no longer had anything to say. It was the hope that he would succeed, the hope that he would live, the hope that everyone would live, that kept him going.

Finally, he made his way near the end of the stars, just barely not showing his hair to whatever monster was up on the roof waiting for him. Signalling Ti'niva to wait just a few trills after he got up on the roof before going himself, Aeon made his charge, without any special battlecry, but certainly with a ridiculous stretched out, scarred face and his sweaty, frozen hair flowing in all directions because of the speed at which he moved.

First step, it was cold out there, much colder than inside. Second step, he could feel the frozen sweat on his skin, as he spotted the girl-like Immortal and the monster-like one standing a couple of feet away from her. Third step, he was ready to jump with his shield in front of him, ready to block whatever the Immortals may throw at him. Fourth step, he was in the air, his sword slowly moving towards the heart area of the girl. His eyes were closed, and his mouth open wide as a scream was let out, finally. Fifth step, he reached the ground, or at least what should be the ground, depending on the actions of the deities, expecting his sword to have gone through Lisirra's heart. Sixth step, he was dead, along with the Immortal, and all the shadow monsters. Or at least that was the plan, for not even an Immortal could foresee the ending to such a tale.

► Show Spoiler

Got Malt's permission to speak about where which Immortal is, though that didn't serve any purpose, since I changed my mind about this post literally as I was writing it

[Padraig]

Could he pick a lock? "Maybe," Padraig responded when Faith asked him, depending on what kind of lock it was. He was no lock pick. But by nature, he wasn't a fighter either. And yet here he was. He might apply some physics to the problem. And if that didn't work, brute force might be required.

She'd shouted at him, but he overlooked it because surrounded by chaos, her newfound forcefulness would have breezed right past him anyway. But when he pushed his way to the closed portal, he examined it and found no lock to speak of on the outside. No combination one, or a key operated one either. "It's barred from the inside," Padraig said, though he stated the obvious. And if there was a mechanism of some sort, it was on the inside too, and not the outside. He examined the seam between the door and the frame, hoping for a gap wide enough to push something thin and strong through for leverage. Nothing. "Nothing short of a battering ram will bring that thing down," he declared. And even then he wasn't sure.

He couldn't have missed what seemed to be going on behind that door. The sounds of an Immortal being in torment caused him to draw back, and they filled him with dread. But what, exactly, it was all about? Padraig couldn't know, though Faith might and she might enlighten him. Whichever the case it seemed to make getting inside the tomb, soon, more critical than ever.

He'd like to have had the time to consider the problem at his leisure. But then there was an army of...what? Hundreds? Thousands, all across the horizon. He and the rest spread out, but Padraig stayed nearby Faith and redrew his sword as the army approached. One naerikk and the rest shadowbeasts. Just that was enough to give him pause, and realize that there was something not quite right about it all.

He'd never surrender, or abandon the field. It didn't seem wise to accept the opposition at their word, even when they had a captive to reassure them. That man, he recognized though he didn't know his name. Had he already surrendered and joined the other's ranks? Or was all a trick? It was more than the sight of their former ally that made him think so.

Turning to Faith, he spoke quietly while keeping his eye on the army in front of them. "Something's not right. Those are shadowbeasts, most of them. With Ufrek's shells, they shouldn't be able to see us. And yet, they'd appear to. Look at how they move as we do, as if they see us. They're not holding ranks like you'd expect them to. Instead they're mirroring our movements." When by rights, the things shouldn't see them at all. Unless another unseen being was pulling their strings. "An illusion maybe?"

He wouldn't like to bet on it absolutely. Doing that on a hunch could get them killed. But he wasn't inclined to surrender either. If he was going to die he'd rather die fighting. Not as the fool who'd thrown down his weapon when he might've known better. "We've got to get in to the tomb. There must be another way in," he suggested. "Up there, maybe?" Padraig couldn't actually see what was on top of the tomb, but if there was another entrance, the options were limited. Round the sides, or on top.

[Faith Augustin]

The Tomb

She was absolutely terrified and on her own as far as she knew. Sure there were people there, but the young slave didn't know them and had so done what she did in all sorts of strange situations, she had become scrappy. It had led to her attacking her master's brother with a broom and hitting zombies with a frypan. It was her default position, she knew, to err on the side of fight instead of flight when in a circumstance which she didn't understand. It was exacerbated by the fact that she explained, in a much more usual volume for her. "Have you seen my master? I've lost him," for all she knew Tristan was dead or injured. Maybe it was him making that awful screaming, she thought to herself and pushed the thought away. She would have to apologise to mister Padraig later, she thought to herself, she had just shouted at him and it really wasn't appropriate to do so.

But the tiniest of respites they had experienced was gone as quickly as a whisper in the wind and there was an army. Hundreds, she thought, maybe thousands and the young slave took a step closer to Padraig, nerves hitting her. "There's too many," she whispered. However, Padraig spoke of their movements, how they moved and seemed to see even those with the shell necklaces. She looked again and nodded. "You're right. I think you're right. They're illusions." Faith spoke with a certainty she did not entirely feel, but it fitted the facts and it was internally logical. "Tell people, we have to tell them." She would, if possible, tell whoever else was nearby, in the hope that enough would believe them.

But then there was one of them and Faith looked at him, the archer who had stood next to her not long ago, and listened to his words. No. No, that she did not believe and she did not believe it compeltely. It looked like the man who had been here with them, it even sounded like him but the words were wrong, someone didn't go from that brave to saying that in a moment. She had some doubts about whether the Naerrik and shadow beasts were illusions or not, but the archer whose name she did not know? That was a lie, that was not him, someone who had stood their ground, had come this far and done this much would not say what he said.

She nodded grimly at Padraig when he said that they had to get in. Up there? It was a good idea and in this moment it was the only idea that she could think of which made any sense, so she agreed. It seemed like the tomb was barred to them, but there must be another way in, or something. With a prayer to Famula that she might be brave enough to stand and fight, Faith looked at the building and considered that it was always with the heights.

"Up there," the terrified young slave said and, with her tutor, started to try and get on to the roof of the tomb of Treid.

[Nightshade Eld]

In the end had they really been doomed to lose? Night could see the jaws of victory snap shut when the door to the tomb did. Now there was only an empty hollow feeling in her chest as she watched others trying to bash open the door to the best of their abilities. None of it would work. They weren't getting in the door no matter how hard they tried. "There has to be another way in," she muttered to herself quietly as she glared so fiercely at the door it might have burst into flame should such a power really have existed. Sadly such an idea was little more than a fleeting hope for something good to come. Her eyes for all the fire in her glare were slowly losing spirit, they had become glassy with fatigue and fear and now despair ran through the ranks of brave warriors. "There has to be another way..." she said to herself a second time, her voice come out as a husky groan that was more of a plea than it was a confident remark like that last had been. Her eyes darted around wildly regaining a small amount of spirit that burned with the soul purpose of finding a way in. She couldn't afford to give up when there were people relying on her.

Perhaps the roof? The thought hit her like a ton of bricks when she came upon the realization. Maybe, just maybe there was some kind of entrance on the roof? It would make enough sense all things considered. Such an entrance would be heavily guarded at best though, wouldn't it be something akin to suicide for her to try her luck at the roof alone? That was a risk she was willing to take. She beat her wings feeling the burn of overexertion in her muscles, but she didn't have the time to care. There was still strength in the large mass of feathers. As long as she still had the strength to fly she would soar to help the cause. As she rose up into the air she had a clear view of the roof, though the wind was fierce and battered her throwing her about like a rag doll. She feared no winds, instead she welcomed them. The winds offered to make Night's job a little easier. She rode the current so that she could get a better view of what was going on. She went as close to the roof as she dared to on her own. It was uncertain if anyone realized the half avriel was even there. She got as close as she could before fear set in and told her to keep enough escaping distance.

Two immortals stood and a man shot his bow. The sight of the two disappeared before the real things came out a couple moments later. The pair of immortals were familiar and she recognized the features of each but their names slipped her mind. Obviously she didn't favor either of them highly. A dangerous looking child approached the man who had shot the bow after the illusion disappeared. She braced in order to try and catch him, thinking that he was about to get flung off of the roof. The second immortal got in the way before Ti'Niva learned what it was like to fly. Night could then see the man being dragged off for unknown reasons. "Oh dear, this looks bad. Really bad..." she muttered to herself. For a moment she didn't know what to do. Did she just fly in there and hope for the best or something? Her mind trailed back to the immortals acting on the side of the warriors. Perhaps she should go to one of them and speak what she saw?

Her eyes skirted across the ground until she came across the woman she was looking for. The powerful and noble immortal was right there fighting with the bravest warriors she could find. Night beat her wings with all her might flying as fast as her body would take her. "Ethelynda! Lady Ethelynda!" She cried as she landed next to the immortal. "I saw a pair of people on the roof, by the looks of them they were immortals but I can't remember their names. One was a little girl who looked to be as vicious as they come, the second was a man with no face. They captured someone, an archer who managed to climb onto the roof. He hit them but it was only an illusion or something that he hit. The girl was going to throw him off the roof before the man stopped her. Instead they took him inside," Night said trying to report everything that she'd seen. Her mind was still racing.

The shadows began to appear led by their general and Night braced herself for the fight to get even worse. Only to have the general try and convince them to turn away from the battle. She could feel her blood start to boil with anger, the words that entered her ears sounded like nothing but lie after lie. "That's the man that they capture!" She gasped when Ti'Niva appeared. She was unsure what to do, part of her questioned if the man before them was real or if he had been tortured into speaking such things. Anyone with the bravery to climb onto the roof of the tomb didn't seem like the kind of man to roll over so easily. "Ethelynda, please give me orders. I don't know what to do but my wings are yours," Night said turning to the immortal for any kind of guidance.

[Maltruism]

In most circumstances, it would have been fatal timing for two heroic fighters to try ascend the outer walls of an icy monolithic structure with two powerful and malicious enemies looking down upon them from above. It was likely that Faith and Padraig were not aware of the Immortals' presence.

Lisirra, ever a fan of the unnecessary torment of a victim prior to death, waved Aelig back away from the wall, fairly giggling with anticipation of the agonies she would inflict upon them. They had been discussing what Lisirra had pointed out as a flaw in his illusory tactic. She could see reactions from a few of the heroic defenders, suggesting doubt about the reality of the shadow force. Even without a face, Aelig's tilted head and folded arms were sufficient to suggest taxed patience with her failure to see the deeper strategy.

So he provided it for her, creating a running image of the shadow force converging on the heroic defenders. Many of the defenders were not in a position to see the inconsistencies in the shadows' behavior. There were enough of them who had not yet noted the signs that the force was made up of only illusions to make his plan work. Aelig displayed the shadows' images being superimposed over the true images of fellow heroes, their exhausted fellows swinging on the images in ignorance of the hero beneath.

These attacks would require responses by these heroes, who would now also see only shadow creatures before them, swinging with lethal reality. The switching of shadow images for the true images of the defenders would soon have them all hacking away at each other, suddenly uncertain if they were illusions after all.

Lisirra's eyes popped wide with delight, as she clapped her hands and spun, as if to music. "Wonderful, wonderful! Oh, and the real joy will be when the illusion drops and they see what they have done to each other. Aelig, I apologize. It is an inspired tactic! But let us stand away from the wall and let our guests join us for the spectacle." She motioned casually to the two climbers, now only a couple stories below.

___________________________________________________

It was such a simple matter for Aelig to create the image of a vacated rooftop, Faith and Padraig could hardly be faulted for being sucked in. Their search for an entry to the chambers below netted the location of the doorway which Aeon and Ti'Niva were even now approaching from below with their suicidal scheme. Bu they did not come close to reaching it. The two Immortals admittedly were not aware of Aeon and Ti'Niva. But they were all too aware of Faith and Padraig. Aelig went first, creating an image of Padraig being suddenly engulfed in fire, his skin smoking and withering; cooked flesh curling away from shuddering bones, as fat popped and melted in flaming spurts.

Faith's own screams at the horrific image probably prevented her from hearing Padriag's cries of alarm at her screaming, not knowing immediately what had set her off. But he too was suddenly stricken with horrified loathing at her face and chest swelling and bursting with worms and insects, blood and pus splattering on the ground as she looked to be consumed before his eyes by tens of thousands of merciless mandibles.

It was only the knowledge that they would soon realize that it was all an illusion that prompted Lisirra to break the tableau with sadistic laughter. "Oh you two lovely fools!" she taunted, "How you will wish that that could actually be your fate! It really would be much quicker than the maladies I have been saving for just such an occasion." The toxic gleam in her eyes left no doubt that her words were not to be taken as exaggeration.

She approached them slowly, savoring the fear that could not be concealed despite any facade of bravery the two might try to cloak themselves within. But her attention was briefly diverted as cries, shouts and the ringing impacts of steel sounded from ground level far below. Lisirra wrapped herself in a hideously exaggerated display of sympathy, as she heaped her condolences on the two mortals at the impending loss of their friends and brothers-in-arms.

"But OH...I see!" she suddenly made as if to understand, "You came up here to get AWAY from the fight! You did not know we were here." She donned a look of disappointment, "And here I thought this had been an act of bravery on your part. I guess I should have known better." a vicious love of cruelty sharpened her voice as she grew ever more pointed accusations of cowardice at them, reveling in the anger which was now replacing fear. She backed away, towards the doorway, eyes blazing challenge; beckoning at them to make whatever futile effort they might attempt.

___________________________________________________

Some distance away, the Mother of the Ithecal heard the voice of an avriel hybrid whose heroism she had noted before. This gave her cause to give more then a cursory ear to the information that met her ears. Earlier, in Ne'haer, Qylios had spoken for all those present, admitting that they did not know what it was that the villainous Immortals were after. But with the knowledge that Lisirra and Aelig stood atop the Tomb of Treid, Ethelynda's priorities changed in an instant.

The avriel mixed-breed, Nightshade, had already demonstrated a keen perception of necessity back on the Anari River, where Faldrun had ambushed them. So the serpent Queen did not hesitate to give credence to the mortal's words. She knew a description of Lisirra and Aelig when she heard it. And though she did not immediately know what the vile quartet sought to gain from the tomb, she knew she would only find the answer there. She waved at her avriel devotee to return at once, dispatching a last few naerikk attackers before turning that way herself.

Nightshade Eld would arrive back in time to see events transpire upon the rooftop...

___________________________________________________

It was only Lisirra's sadistic focus on Faith and Padriag that allowed the charging Aeon to come as close as he did. She heard him and spun in the same instant, her hand instinctively swinging to block the blade. Had she not have spent so much of her resilient power on this world-wide scheme these last seasons, she would have taken no more than a nick. As it was, her Immortal flesh had far less of the toughness than usual, and by the same physiological weakness that had allowed steel to transfix Xuir, so now did the blade pass through her wrist.

The world seemed to slow for all present as her hand floated free of the stump of wrist now spewing immortal blood, turning gracefully with spiraling circlets of blood as her eyes widened in disbelief, then locked shut violently in pain as she shrieked incoherently. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched her hand sail over the side to plunge to the ice below. Aeilg too, stood in shock and confusion; not even making any attempt to stop Ti'Niva who now charged to the edge of the rooftop. Instead he wrapped his reeking arms around Aeon, bearhugging and lifting the mortal off his feet to fling him over the side a few moments after Ti'Niva.

In his anger, two things happened. The first was that his control over his illusions throughout the theater of battle wavered for just a tell-tale moment. The second was that he took no notice of nightshade's arrival.

___________________________________________________

Lisirra turned back in fury to face the two mortals still on the roof. Her mouth gaped sporadically as she vainly sought words to define the hatred and heinous intent she was about to unleash upon them. Then suddenly, a spark of distraction entered her expression as she turned back to face the doorway; as if only now recognizing that the man who'd just leaped over the side was the same one she had sent below bits earlier.

Now her fury took on a different aspect as she began to mutter the names of Syroa and Audrae with betrayed rage. She took a step toward the door, shaking with mania, murder flaming in her eyes, but then stopped again. She turned toward Faith and Padraig with the sort of look that said she would at least take a moment to destroy them first. Her cut wrist suddenly sprouted an ugly insect claw, big enough to accommodate a beetle the size of a horse. Her entire arm swelled suddenly beyond anything remotely possible for her childlike flesh to contain, bursting to reveal a segmented and carapace-armored limb, tipped with the claw. Antennae tore through her scalp, her face distorting and ripping open as clustered globes of eyes rose up from the cocoon of flesh that was now left in a shed heap at the dozens of exoskeletal legs supporting her true form.

It seemed as if the very structure itself shook in empathy with her trembling fury as she turned an hundred hateful eyes upon Faith and Padraig...

___________________________________________________

But it was no imaginary tremor at all. In the crypt chamber itself, the cries of Treid no longer corresponded with any torments inflicted by Syroa. Though his voice may have been said in some future tale to have shaken the area, it was nothing so harmless as that. A deific reaction, born of the machinations of Audrae, now built in pressure and divine conflict within the body of the awakened Ice Lord; his very domain embodying the surface and soil of the entire continent.

Syroa stood agape in confusion, backing away from her seizure-stricken victim, fear now beginning to trace its way across her features, even as Audrae's eyes gleamed in undisguised triumph. The nearikk soldiers now abandoned the room, their disciplined formations betraying the fact that they'd been prepared for such an event. Syroa looked their way, and turned back to Audrae, finding satisfaction on her face at her minions' departures, rather than what she thought should be anger.

"What...? What is happening?...What have you done?!"

Audrae laughed outright now. "What do you think I have done, my most treacherous ally? I have found out what I needed to know; retained what I need to make use of it at my leisure; and trapped you here to be destroyed by either the mortal forces outside, or the cosmic throes of opposing powers escalating within our "heartless" boy right here." She winked to accompany the word.

Realization dawned in the eyes of Syroa, "'Heartless"? What do-...you...his heart! It was NOT his heart you replaced! You have betrayed us! You bitch!" Syroa made to launch herself at the Queen of Deception, finding instead that the shadows at her feet had solidified to lock her in place. As she began to flash through transformations in a bid to win free, she found the shadows matching her every form, defying her attempts. Not only did they block her from wriggling free, they began to form spikes of solid shadow that propped themselves up in position to impale her.

Audrae made a casual wave, delaying the stroke as she moved to bring her face within inches of Syroa's. "Bitch' am I?" she hissed, "You three come to my city uninvited, and proceed to slaughter my children, thinking you force me to submit to your will? My daughters give their lives gladly to further my agendas; a loyalty the likes of you will never know."

Audrae's laughter turned as cold as the air outside the tomb. "I already knew you and your "friends" were coming, and had this all prepared. In your arrogance and overconfidence, you did not even consider that shadows and deception are MY sphere of influence, not yours." She turned to move slowly toward the mechanism keeping the door sealed. "It's true that I can not kill you, dear heart. But those outside can! And I'm willing to bet they'll be more than happy to."

But before she could undo the complex magic on the door, Tried's body lurched violently, the entire structure lurching with it, bringing Audrae to her hands and knees in surprise. She turned to see the body of Tried rise slowly; floating prone as the air around him shimmered faster and faster until the entire room was blurred, a hum of growing power building to drown out the sound of the stone cracking and flaking around them...

[Faith Augustin]

Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark

They climbed and, once on the roof Faith looked around as quickly as she could. It was vacated but there was an entrance over there and they made their way over, together. Alas, soon enough and before they got anywhere close, she turned and there he was, flamed engulfing him. Faith felt the scream of terror and pain and rage rise in her throat and even as she expelled it she realised that it wasn't right.

But yet, at the same time, it was.

He was being engulfed by flames and they weren't real but yet, yet there was this Immortal in front of them and Faith turned to look at Lissira and Aelig and a hundred realisations fell in on her at once. The fear, the terror, the absolute horror that she felt at Padraig suffering? She knew what it was, she knew why it was. She was falling in love with him ~ or she already was. But she was a slave. There were no choices, not for her. She was a slave and she could not allow these feelings or this moment. It was what it was, and she was who she was and, by Famula, she would not fail in this task.

Being a slave, Faith knew, meant being able to change. Being what her owner wanted her to be; undertaker, seamstress or whore, she always would be what was needed of her. However, there was one thing which trumped all of it. She was Famula's servant and Famula had sent her on this mission. They needed her. That was what Famula had said and so Faith pushed away the feelings that she had for Padraig; she ignored the fear for Tristan that she had in her heart and she went back to basics.

Famula.

She was born in Famula's service. Every step she took was in Famula's name. Every scar her body bore was accepted by the young slave as a lesson to be learnt about service. There was no doubting it, she was a fanatic. There, in front of her was the Immortal who was causing all of this and so Faith put to one side dreams of love or concerns of her owner. She focused, instead, on the mission. The mission was what mattered and she was never more sure of anything.

So, she turned from Padraig and she threw herself at Lissira. As the Immortal started to speak, to mock them for their cowardice and to turn her words into more darkness, Faith's scream turned feral and the young slave threw herself bodily at the Immortal being.

It wasn't her aim to kill her.

It wasn't her aim to be a hero.

It wasn't her aim to die.

It was her aim, plain and simple, to tackle the bitch that was hurting the man she loved (though she would not yet admit it) and to punch her face into a pulp in the name of the Immortal she adored. Faith screamed Famula's name, her focus entirely on just marmalising the bitch who stood between her and the wish of her Immortal. Padraig, Tristan, all of them were forgotten as she focused on stopping that one creature who was standing between what Famula wanted and Faith's ability to deliver it.