icmasticcFate’s gravity was above them, in the mold of a spherical void extracting life and light from the Kingdom of Lyranth. The ashen vacuum dissembled Turyn below, annulling the physical scenery, empiricism’s jig-saw pieces paradoxically unraveling asunder. Stone by stone, castles crumbled upward. Mortar filled the winds and the nostrils of the heroes beneath, begging a vibrant world to cement a vision, together, against perpetual twilight. Wick gaped at the puzzling horror, but remained perilously steadfast. Centuries had prepared her for this moment. Accommodating eyes witnessed the scattered islets aeronautically echoing Escheresque cartography and Dali landscaping; reality’s backcloth had quickly dissected into visual pointillism, with the abyss consuming but remnants of radiance and rock. The tinnitus of ascending decay meticulously resonated against the party’s armor and weapons to redeem time and dream. Each vowed to conquer this Euripidean nightmare dripped unleashed upon this realm.
“Behind sealed doors, the keys will be revealed.”
Her master’s words lingered in her new Aasimar skull out from extinctional recall, resurrected now with fickle substantiation. Yet, where was He? And the prodigy, Ruron? An empty promise filled an unspoken niche within the warlock’s heart, she had not previously entertained since rebirth. Though amnesia stained fragments of the recent past, the miscarriage of memories, forged of a former existence, recompensed in full fury, now echoed the possibility of disaster which befell her not only in a previous life but beyond the grave. Did Shujaat fail? Or betray us? These murmurs shared common ground: doubt. Her disoriented thoughts chattered like mischievous monkeys, prattling upon the purpose of the ivory portal now secured by a charcoal leviathan, affronting their mission. Its purple wreathes stared into the troupe’s collective soul, issuing taxes of despair. After a clap, the black behemoth tampered with the surrounding ink eroding the atmosphere, with murky concentration, harnessing a dénouement the cleric wished not to spectate firsthand. The beast mocked them. Yet, it was peculiar and familiar? The forsaken screams coalesced to generate a scorned cacophony of laughter, not from a singularity, but, as if, its war cry originated from the bellows of suffering children.
Each ridiculed its voice, with demented tidal waves of an acoustic sea of heretical mirth. The whispers eventually corroborated into corporeality before a respective warrior and also assembled in rank as a hissing barb, protecting its morbid parent.
Theodore, the first to heed the forecast, unmasked face and bolt upon the necrotic geists. His nearby spawned shadow cackled and crackled with viscous momentum, Vesuvian tendrils percolating inky talons against the pulp of the ranger, with no visible harm appreciated as he ventured slightly off to vantage better aim. After sidestepping into a better position, the cultist’s arrow was betrothed away from its mechanical string and finally married to its mark, exploding into a Hail of Thorns, downing two shades, leaving a trio of defenders between Thea and the muddy titan.
The Templar charred. “Clear the path…”
Haemar obeyed without hesitation. Sacrifice of their current post to obtain higher ground caked the name of the game into the high elf's cerebral sanctum. This mental chess match seemed obvious; mate the king and the contest would be over. His lack of trepidation reeled artistic flair, as congealed electricity charged through steel and hopeful stance into the silhouette, concreting its shattering demise.
The Celestial, likewise, curdled a sneer. “Let me take a stab, Theo.”
Wick’s shielded forearm writhed in a sadistic smile, as its fingers procured a petrified eye of newt, one lost among many from the belt pouches adjacent to the scabbard of her sickle. The palm compressed the component as she concentrated on a magical couplet. Her feet just needed to enter the spells’ scopes first. Forgoing safety, her manipulative crusade stemmed recklessly into the fray. Emanating from her blanche cloak, her furious stomps aloft stairs paired her righteous anger, a holy angst teeming from a millennium of formulation and practice. Once the criterion of distance was met, she raised the arcanist’s gift, a dim gem embedded in a quarterstaff. Praying to the Light and locking her enthralling gaze with that of the vast vice’s violet beads, before the prophetic entrance, her frenzied scream harmonized with the feverish chaos all around.
@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @The Harbinger of Ferocity, @Zverda
“Behind sealed doors, the keys will be revealed.”
Her master’s words lingered in her new Aasimar skull out from extinctional recall, resurrected now with fickle substantiation. Yet, where was He? And the prodigy, Ruron? An empty promise filled an unspoken niche within the warlock’s heart, she had not previously entertained since rebirth. Though amnesia stained fragments of the recent past, the miscarriage of memories, forged of a former existence, recompensed in full fury, now echoed the possibility of disaster which befell her not only in a previous life but beyond the grave. Did Shujaat fail? Or betray us? These murmurs shared common ground: doubt. Her disoriented thoughts chattered like mischievous monkeys, prattling upon the purpose of the ivory portal now secured by a charcoal leviathan, affronting their mission. Its purple wreathes stared into the troupe’s collective soul, issuing taxes of despair. After a clap, the black behemoth tampered with the surrounding ink eroding the atmosphere, with murky concentration, harnessing a dénouement the cleric wished not to spectate firsthand. The beast mocked them. Yet, it was peculiar and familiar? The forsaken screams coalesced to generate a scorned cacophony of laughter, not from a singularity, but, as if, its war cry originated from the bellows of suffering children.
Each ridiculed its voice, with demented tidal waves of an acoustic sea of heretical mirth. The whispers eventually corroborated into corporeality before a respective warrior and also assembled in rank as a hissing barb, protecting its morbid parent.
Theodore, the first to heed the forecast, unmasked face and bolt upon the necrotic geists. His nearby spawned shadow cackled and crackled with viscous momentum, Vesuvian tendrils percolating inky talons against the pulp of the ranger, with no visible harm appreciated as he ventured slightly off to vantage better aim. After sidestepping into a better position, the cultist’s arrow was betrothed away from its mechanical string and finally married to its mark, exploding into a Hail of Thorns, downing two shades, leaving a trio of defenders between Thea and the muddy titan.
The Templar charred. “Clear the path…”
Haemar obeyed without hesitation. Sacrifice of their current post to obtain higher ground caked the name of the game into the high elf's cerebral sanctum. This mental chess match seemed obvious; mate the king and the contest would be over. His lack of trepidation reeled artistic flair, as congealed electricity charged through steel and hopeful stance into the silhouette, concreting its shattering demise.
The Celestial, likewise, curdled a sneer. “Let me take a stab, Theo.”
Wick’s shielded forearm writhed in a sadistic smile, as its fingers procured a petrified eye of newt, one lost among many from the belt pouches adjacent to the scabbard of her sickle. The palm compressed the component as she concentrated on a magical couplet. Her feet just needed to enter the spells’ scopes first. Forgoing safety, her manipulative crusade stemmed recklessly into the fray. Emanating from her blanche cloak, her furious stomps aloft stairs paired her righteous anger, a holy angst teeming from a millennium of formulation and practice. Once the criterion of distance was met, she raised the arcanist’s gift, a dim gem embedded in a quarterstaff. Praying to the Light and locking her enthralling gaze with that of the vast vice’s violet beads, before the prophetic entrance, her frenzied scream harmonized with the feverish chaos all around.
“HEX!!!”
@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @The Harbinger of Ferocity, @Zverda