Dark Jack

The Prophecy

I have been arguing back and forth with myself for some time now about whether to bring this up or leave things as they are, seeing as so much has irreversibly happened IC by now and thus cannot be remedied anyways, but ultimately I reached the decision to at least notify you of the problem that was already brought up IC in Rilon's thoughts. As well-explained and logical the properties and powers of Koraakan are - and I maintain that there is indeed no problem with the reasons for Koraakan's being what it is if one was to solely compare it to the lore of the world, which is a given, since I helped explaining it myself - it is nevertheless ridiculously overpowered, especially for a player-created and semi-player-controlled deity.
The issue really is that Koraakan... it has no weaknesses, or rather that every weakness it has already has a countermeasure in place to negate that weakness. Initially I had no problem with Koraakan due to it supposedly being notably less powerful than other deities due to its alternative origins, but this was more-or-less counteracted completely by it being able to siphon energy from the Spirit Realm through the karakon, which "alone made the Balancer if not a match for Rilon, then at least brought the one close to the non-life-blessed major gods". In other words due to this ability, Koraakan although it by itself is weaker, it is in fact stronger than most major deities once powers are applied practically, such as in the struggle between it and Rilon.
Then there was the omniscience, which was troubling from the very beginning but initially counterbalanced by the lack of power... which isn't a factor anymore. The capacity of knowing everything is an unbelievably powerful ability, one that got the Oracle locked away in the Lower Plane and guarded by legions of demons, and one that made the Oracle a unique and extremely valuable force in the Planes. The fact that Koraakan possesses a similar ability not only lessens her significance, but makes Koraakan pretty much the single most dangerous being in the Planes. For a short time I thought that a balance would finally be achieved through the One's inability to make even the most basic predictions of the future, but even this is negated by the One using its karakon's ability to do so for itself... which coupled with omniscience means that Koraakan will always know what everyone is intending to happen and thus be able to predict and counteract anything that could possibly be done to it.

I'm not angry or irritated about this, mind you, I'm merely telling you that this situation in which Koraakan's properties were much more firmly established has made me realize that the One is overall far superior to all but the upper echelon of the Death Clan, the Spirits of Union and perhaps Reina, although I'm not too sure about the latter. The One just defeated Rilon, the fifth strongest immortal in the Planes (excluding the Spirits). And I'm making you aware of this because there is no doubt that there will be serious repercussions IC now that Koraakan has demonstrated its superiority thusly; basically Koraakan has just announced to the world that it is a threat to all immortals. It doesn't matter that it has no desire or intention to threaten them, the capacity of being a threat to all gods and demon lords is enough. That, plus there are some other supremely powerful beings in the Planes that would be very concerned with another being - one that is willing to trade any information to anyone, nonetheless - possessing knowledge of their plans.
So there you have it; every action has consequences, and it turns out that involving Koraakan in this particular situation means that some very bad things are going to happen.

I'm also wondering when I'll see any new posts... in the collab or otherwise. I also have to say that as little as I personally want Olan to die, it is almost disappointing that he probably won't, with Koraakan healing him and all; I had prepared the most breathtakingly epic last words for him. Oh well.

The Prophecy

Okay, good. Then I know a little more of how much I have to work with...

Hmm... I started wondering after reading your comment just now, Shien, about just why the One would even try to make Rilon undo the damage done to the group? It's an understandable sentiment, to be sure, which is one of the reasons it seems even more out of place that the One would do it. Of course we don't have a copy of the exact deal being made anymore since the Guildfall (this is apparently the term being used on the forum about the transition from the old RPGuild to this one), but I think it was for Jaelnec, Aemoten and Olan to be protected from Rilon and his schemes (I'm not even sure she included herself in the deal). Trying to undo what happened before the bargain came into effect would not really be part of the deal, and as has been made very clear the One only gives exactly what one asks for in the deal, nothing more and nothing less...
And yeah, with Rilon's grip on the Black Thorn broken it can pretty much be established that the One has won.

The Prophecy

Say Ashgan, I realize that you're probably busy with Dark Souls 2 by now but are you going to post? I realize that it isn't certain that there is even anything for you to post about, with Jillian being unconscious and all, so if you're not going to maybe I should try to progress things a little further... although just how far events can progress without input from you would be uncertain at best.

RPGN ver 3.14.14

Just for the sake of mentioning it my RP, The Prophecy also survived Guildfall and is still around, and has been for a couple of years.

The Prophecy

Uh, guys? I know I've really dropped the ball lately and stuff, but... are you still around? It has been very quiet lately...

The Prophecy

Illusion, the woman thought dispassionately, eyeing the form reminiscent of that of her quarry that appeared before her. She cocked her head slightly to the left, examining it, trying to figure out the purpose of its deployment. Maybe if she had not been a magus herself this sort of trick could actually have tricked her to some degree, and maybe if she had not been one of the thirteen that were now twelve it would even have worked to distract her. She was not sure. What was it supposed to do? Due to its shadowy nature it was fairly easy to tell that this was not simply the result of the caster teleporting there, and one would have to be a highly illogical being not to realize that the caster itself was more dangerous than this.
Was it a distraction, then? That did seem like the most probable conclusion, although if this man really was Grim he would know that such a trick was a waste of time to use against one of the thirteen, the people who were not people. Another hint that this was not the Fixer. But if it was the Fixer, surely he would also understand that doing things that she would not expect the Fixer to do would convince her that the Fixer was in fact not the Fixer... Grim was cunning enough to think that far, to be sure. No, she could not say for certain yet, it still might be the Fixer. She had to examine the eyes to be sure.
Now, with the illusionary distraction placed where in was, she thought that she could safely presume that the man had either teleported away from here and had opted to flee the scene, which would be a logical and natural reaction to being faced with an obvious threat... or he would teleport to somewhere behind her, away from where her attention was focused, and try to kill her to remove the threat, which was also a logical and natural reaction to this situation. If that was the case and this really was the Fixer, she might not get the chance to defend herself. Should she draw her weapon? No, not yet. The magically charged glyphs on her hands would suffice to allow her to defend herself for a second until she could brandish her sword. She would have to listen very intently, though, and be able to sense her opponent's approach without hinting that she suspected he was coming. And if a few seconds passed without anything further happening, she would have to assume that he had fled, and chase him.

That much time did not pass, however, nor did the other actually attempt to attack her from behind; instead the man simply whispered in her ear, then spontaneously appeared in front of her, his stance and expression obviously hostile, but not taking offensive action. What was he doing, wasting what logically must have been an obvious chance to kill or decisively wound her just to ask pointless questions? Was this another distraction? Was he trying to confuse her? Grim would know that all of this would be no use against her, a person who was not a person; a woman who could not feel fear or anger, or anything, but was only ever driven by loyalty to her orders. Could this maneuver serve a purpose to Grim? Could he still be trying to convince her that he was not himself? Perhaps... and this man's eyes - she finally got a look at them when he appeared in front of her - were gray. Not Grim's eyes. But he had just proven capable of invoking illusions, so she would have to examine them more closely to ensure that they were not a glamour.

The other moved once again, this time to where his illusion had been uselessly waiting, and the woman simply looked to him expressionlessly; at no point during all of his sneaking around, muttering and scowling had she flinched in the slightest, her eyes following him attentively but without emotion. It had been a long time since her emotions had last stirred. It was a requirement to being one of the thirteen that were now twelve that one's emotions were erased, that the person was eradicated so that they could serve their masters' will to perfection. She recalled that the process of doing so had been highly uncomfortable and that she had been opposed to it, and that it had taken years for her to become like this, but she also knew that she no longer cared about it; she did not care about anything but her master's will now.
She realized that the man before her had apparently brandished a weapon sometime during his maneuvering - a strange little weapon, she noted, but most likely dangerous nonetheless - and decided that this was one display of hostility that could not go unanswered. Thus far she had remained still and unimposing as to not provoke the other into attacking her, but now that this man showed blatant aggressive intent it was within acceptable conduct to demonstrate intention and ability to defend oneself. She reached to her left hip with her right hand without taking her eyes off her possible opponent, and swiftly pulled the slim sword with the crystal handle from its scabbard, only to point its tip towards the ground at her right side. A pale golden luminance filled the crystal as her energy quickly established a natural flow through it. All the spells she had memorized were utility-type ones and unsuited for combat, but her unique rune-sword - one that did not have a Unity-rune - had eighteen runes with potentially combat-oriented effects engraved into the blade, nine on either side. She left her other sword in its scabbard; she was only allowed to draw that if extraordinary circumstances occurred, and was expected to die before she used it unless such circumstances arose. This did not qualify.

Her face remained expressionless as the man asked even more questions, pointless questions, questions she had no obligation to answer. Her gaze did grow momentarily distant at the mention of her master, though, as she mentally recited the entry she had taken from the dictionary about the word. There had been a time when she had felt compelled to speak it out loud, but she had learned to satisfy her compulsion by just thinking it.
How much should she indulge this man? If it was the Fixer, revealing her master's identity would paint him as a target... but then again if this really was Grim, he would already know who she served. Is he really not the Fixer, or is this all a trick? My orders are clear, I must be certain. I must act as though either eventuality is equally possible until I can ascertain one or the other to be true.
"I serve the Duke of Zerul," she said in an almost disinterested tone. "And he wants the Fixer to stop disrupting our efforts to prevent the Crimson Dawn from acting within Zerul." Simple. True. Acceptable.
"Let me examine your eyes so I can ascertain whether you are him," she demanded again, but this time she added, "or I will have to examine them against your will."

The Prophecy

Jillian's last words to him before he would cast Shadow Image were enough to actually break the careful focus he had built up in preparation for wielding this particularly difficult magic. Again with the promises, and this time she even had the nerve to request a promise that may well not be possible to keep, should he give it. He was a scholar and a mage, not a tactician or a fortune-teller; he was a chess-player of average prowess at best because while he logically knew the rules of the game and could see all possible outcomes several moves ahead, he could never anticipate what the other player would actually do. It was the same now, here, in the midst of true battle that was far from as orderly and even less predictable than the battlefield of a chessboard; he could logically see all the possible moves of the pieces before him, but he had no true way of knowing which of the moves would be made and in what sequence. He could not possibly be prepared for all futures... he knew that if all else should fail he at least had to escape the forest, but although this ranked at the top of his priorities he could not even say with absolute certainty that this was possible. It may well be that he would have to leave behind Jillian to save himself, which he would do, or that he would simply be incapable of keeping her safe. His power was not great enough to ensure success in all things. Someday it would be grand enough, according to his plans; one day he would attain true immortality greater than the false one stolen by liches, and gain such immense arcane potency that he would command the very aspect of life and death, but now?
Any promise was worthless in Gerald's eyes, as they were ultimately just words spoken by flawed beings that did not understand their own inability to prevent the breaking of that promise if circumstances were against them, but this promise bore so low probability of being possible to keep that the thought of giving it was almost laughable. And yet he found that strangely, condescension was not the emotion that was foremost in his mind. He found that he actually wanted to make that promise, to feel bound by his word and inflicted with a duty to bring this woman out of this accursed forest. He wanted to, but he knew that he could not, as he was already inflicted with a duty even more dire than the responsibility for a human life.
"I'll do what I can," was the best he could do to fulfill her request. He recalled her having asked for a similar promise just minutes ago - but then, they had only known each other for minutes - and that he had given a similar response, but this time he actually felt somewhat regretful that it was all he could do.

Shadow Image was in itself spell of very high difficulty to use, to the point where many of the Zerulic greatest wizards and most powerful magi had been incapable of using it at all, and even those who naturally had shadow-attuned souls could not master it; the ability to use Shadow Image was rare indeed, especially since it required such extremely delicate mastery of energy-manipulation that only a necromancer could ever hope to master it. Even when using it normally it required incredible concentration for Gerald to cast and maintain it, to the point where he could not move while projecting the spell - with his body or the projection - because doing so might desynchronize his two selves and disrupt the flow of energy, undoing the Shadow Image prematurely. He had mastered casting spells through the Shadow Image only by training long and hard, yet now he expected himself to be able to immediately obtain not one, but two abilities to expand upon the capacity of the Shadow Image. It was unlikely to succeed, he knew... yet he had to try.
It took several tries to even manage to cast Shadow Image successfully at all, and when his first one did appear it did just two feet away directly in front of his body, at ground-level as always; projecting his Shadow Image into the air was even more difficult than he had expected, and it took all of his restraint not to let frustration overcome him, as he knew that this would only make succeeding at this even harder, and succeed he had to. The next Shadow Image appeared only inches from his actual location, actually, but this time it was above his body, not in front of him, so he accepted this as a small victory; for the first time ever he had managed to create a hovering Shadow Image, proving that it was indeed possible.
Finally the third Shadow Image was a massive success, as Gerald abruptly found his awareness floating in mid-air above a sea of green and the colors of autumn, stretching out before him like a true ocean, the sheer enormity of the Anaxim Forest spanning past the horizon as he gazed to the north, where a profound peace and stillness seemed to dominate everything in view; everything in that direction was quiet, and nothing moved but the gentle waves that passed through the sea of leaves beneath him. And there, off in the distance, was the visage of what they were trying to prevent the Crusader's Guild from reaching; a single entity that reached up even further than the already abnormally large trees of the Anaxim Forest, a tree that towered above the rest as the mountainous behemoth it was, its branches stretching far to the sides as its leaves formed a massive cloud of all the colors of the rainbow: the Tree of Life of the Anaxim Forest.
Turning his Shadow Image around to look sound, Gerald was stricken by the harsh contrast between what he had just seen and what he saw now. Before him was Gariel Downs, cast into chaos as the crusaders surged against the desperate defenders with relentless force, even as wyverns swarmed in the sky, screaming like evil spirits when they were not diving at the ground and unleashing greenish clouds of lethal toxin, making it even harder for the few surviving druids to keep their dwindling number of champions standing. It was even worse further to the south, where the trolls - the main distraction that had kept the crusaders from bringing their full might to bear on the Anaximite defenders - were all but eliminated, with only a couple of them still weakly struggling against their human assailants, vainly fighting the wyvern's breath that was inexorably killing them from within. Very soon the crusaders would have nothing to distract them anymore and would once more drive their full strength northward, and when this happened there was little doubt that the defenders, impressive as their survival thus far had been, would be crushed. They needed the dragons to weaken the crusader forces, and quickly, or all would truly be lost.

I need to get their attention, Gerald reminded himself, tearing his gaze from the multitude of corpses that riddled the bloody ground beneath him, many of which had risen anew under the vile influence of Hazzergash's power. Had they had time Gerald might have used his necromancy to neutralize these animated corpses or even turn them against the crusaders, but as it was there were more important things to worry about. It was a problem, though; Shadow Image was far from a spell that could be cast effortlessly, and he could feel within himself that this and all those previous castings of the spell had taken a dreadful toll on his magical reserves. He would have to do this with just a few spells, at most, or chances were that he would not have the strength to return to the battle afterwards... or escape from it, should Jillian fail.
So he began to weave magic, uttering words of the arcane in his shadowy form, and soon the black contour of his right arm was enveloped in white lightning, which was held there only briefly before Gerald commanded it to leap forward in a form reminiscent of that of a spear, which managed to strike a wyvern and knock it out of the sky, pass through it and successfully hit a second one, which was momentarily stunned but caught itself before it would have fallen. A few wyverns turned towards him, but not all. A bolt whirred through his incorporeal torso from one of the wyvern-riders' arbalests, and it struck Gerald that he actually felt an echo of pain when that happened. Interesting.
Another spell was cast, and another Spark Javelin picked a wyvern out of the sky, and most of the wyverns now turned to him, approaching him quickly, and another bolt tore through the upper left arm of the Shadow Image, doing no damage but providing an unhelpful distraction. A spell he had not memorized but only looked over quickly came to mind, and the warlock decided to take the risk; the next moment a thundering boom emerged from his form, rolling across the open plains around him and effectively making everyone on the battlefield aware of his presence, and drawing the attention of every remaining wyvern. The wyverns flew in close and swarmed around him, filling the air around him with their breath and tearing at his misty form with their wicked talons. He felt softness and warmth around the hand of his body. Now was the time.

It turned out that he did have to use the Withering, at least for this to succeed in this very instant, but once he had awoken the plague within him it seemed that Jillian's energy and awareness flowed surprisingly easily and naturally through him and into the spell, and he found that it was nowhere as hard to maintain her Shadow Image as he had feared. Her form appeared next to his immediately, and Gerald felt a surge of joy at the realization that he had just effortlessly accomplished something that logically should have extremely difficult. And with Jillian up there, she was free to invoke the spell that she had -
Gerald had to stop himself from starting in surprise, as he knew that doing so might still disrupt the Shadow Image. The words Jillian spoke were not arcane. Black magic? he thought, now realizing why she had been so uncertain that she could prevent the spell from hitting their own bodies, but also stricken with a sense of fear, because with black magic physical injury was rarely the most significant danger. And sure enough it was not long until she completed the spell and Gerald, acting as the conduit between Jillian's body and Shadow Image, felt how torrents of her magical energy were siphoned through his own soul and fed to her spell to fuel it. There was nothing he could do, though, but maintain their Shadow Images and watch with horror and greedy desire as the witch's magic absolutely decimated the wyverns, obliterating them all in but a few moments, and then continuing to spew fireballs around them, doing great damage to the forest below - although looking closely he knew that the damage could have been much worse, had the trees surrounding those that caught fire not uprooted themselves and crawled away from the fiery doom that threatened them - and also sending one towards the crusader army, slaying another chunk of misguided minions; and all the while he kept feeling more and more energy passing through him and into the spell. It truly had amazing destructive power, but...
It stopped, and as it did, the Shadow Image beside Gerald's dispersed, and he felt the hand that had held his relinquish its grip.

The transition between being in his Shadow Image and sitting up straight in his real body was so abrupt and so hurried that he was inflicted with vertigo, even as he felt a spike of white-hot pain searing through his brain as it struggled to adapt to the instant change. He inhaled deeply and coarsely, his eyes wide with terror, before he turned to Jillian's motionless form beside him. Her breathing was shallow and irregular, she was bleeding from her nose and another tickle of blood escaped from between her lips. She was unconscious.
Phase three magical exhaustion, he thought, feeling suddenly angry even as fear and desperation gripped him, pushing him to move despite his own weakness, pain and dizziness. He had to move quickly, do... something. She had used far too much energy on that spell of hers, and unless he did something immediately her chances of surviving were probably slim to nonexistent.
"Veldaine!" he barked at her furiously, leaning over her and seizing her shoulders - almost as thin as his own - with her hands and shaking her in a way that was less than gentle. "You stupid, selfish girl! Why would you ask me to promise to keep you alive and then kill yourself in such a stupid way? How in the Planes did you expect me to be able to keep that promise? Fool!"
And yet he stood up, leaving his precious staff on the ground where he had lain to use both of his hands to hold on to Jillian's shoulders, and began dragging her across the forest floor as quickly as his body could manage. He gasped and panted with exertion, but kept dragging her northward, toward the trees that surrounded them.
"You will wake up from this," he hissed at her, struggling to move her the scant few feet to the nearest tree trunk even as he heard the roars of dragons above him and cries of fear from the battlefield to the south. "You hear, Veldaine? You'll wake up and take responsibility for your actions! You trust me on that, you thoughtless, reckless little witch!"

The Prophecy

*Cue "Eye of the Tiger" playing in the background.*

Okay, Jack, you worthless piece of trash, time to take your head out of your ass and get back to it! This has gone on for too long now! You're a writer and a GM, damn it; you have a responsibility to yourself and others. So now you sit the hell down, open freakin' Word and write a post for your RP! Right now!

Yes! Yeah! I'll do it! I'll write a post today! Definitely! YEAH!

The Prophecy

By the way, is Koraakan going to accept Thaler's cancellation of their deal? Because that'll probably affect how much further I'll feel like I can go with Rilon's actions in my next addition to that part of the story, chronilogcially speaking.

The Prophecy

Ah, so he swung very horizontally-diagonally... so he would basically apply all his strength in hitting the upper right arm, since as you rightly pointed out that would be between him and the yth's neck and be hit first, and due to the more vertical angle he would hit only that, but hit it a lot. If I understand this correctly he would actually end up cutting a long gash along its upper arm, almost all the way to the shoulder. That would damage that arm a lot more than I thought it would. I've made a quick edit to the post; is it better now?