RP:Symphony of the End

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

Part of the Welcome To The End Of Eras Arc

Part of the The Serpent's Pass Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

This is a Devout's Guild RP.

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Summary: It's the end. The ones chosen by chance and luck have gathered the tools to depose a god. They have found the place. It's time to meet there, and face the end. Lanlan, Valrae, Khitt(i), Kanna, Quintessa, and Kailani face Alithyk Caluss, offering him one final trick before they figure out if it's the living or the dead who inherit the world. They defeat him. The cost is high, but life is the sweetest gift, and they've won it for all.

Main Graveyard Area

You now stand in the main area of the graveyard, various tombstones and graves spread out across this place, many of the graves have been dug up, and empty caskets lay about the cold ground. Why have they been dug up you may think, but it's clear this place is hardly ever used to rest the dead, but more of a recruiting grounds for the necromancers that inhabit this town, somehow it feels disturbing to you, unless you happen to be a necromancer yourself? To the south is an old looking temple of some kind.

Valrae || The journey to Vailkrin was a silent one. The witch took to the air on her broom, the wind tearing at the braid that snapped like a golden whip at her back, and tried to enjoy her freedom amongst the bright burning stars. She traded one night sky for another, the Dark Land’s somehow more sinister to her eyes though the same moons hung like bright red and blue-green lanterns overhead. The world below was dotted with light, the city of both dead and undead had always preferred the hours of night despite the eternal darkness, and Valrae shuddered as she neared the graveyard. It was empty and silent as she dropped from the sky, awash in the colors of Ark’Nuk and Vaalane and filled with murky shadow. It didn’t take her long to fish the pendulum from her bag and hold it aloft. Her visions beneath Xalious had shown her the place she would find the path, and unfortunately for her it would be Vailkrin, now it was up to her to find the door. She’d hoped to do so before the other’s arrived, so she set to work. The emerald skull hummed with anticipation, glinting in the lowlight with a sinister grin as her power reached out into the night. The pendulum began to swing. The witch followed it carefully, ignoring the urge to watch the deepening shadows as she neared an ancient mausoleum. Time had stripped it of its ornaments, leaving only a smooth and dull stone. The door was sealed, an unfortunate inconvenience that was dealt with in a hasty slap of power. She was coughing from the dust and debris of stone as she stepped in. The air was cold and musky, the scent of decay decades old clinging to the walls stubbornly now irritated from the burst of night air she’d introduced. It was difficult not to gag. The pendulum began to spin wildly and Valrae began to move again. Like before, she felt a sense of moving outside of herself as the power took control. As if she were watching from some faraway place, she moved toward the sarcophagus that loomed in the center of the long forgotten tomb.

Valrae || Etched with ancient and forgotten runes, the sides of the sarcophagus told an indecipherable story. Like the art she and Lanlan had found on Selen’s Island, there was the carved symbol of a great serpent on the lid. It was coiled in the form of a triquetra, a diamond bright jewel the size of a baby’s fist seemingly locked in its open jaws. Six stars, each holding six points but for the one atop the triquetra which was an eight pointed star, circled it. Power hummed thickly in the air, nearly chokingly as the pendulum circled over the carved lid. Still moving outside of herself, Valrae placed her hand on the center. There was a flash of white light, nearly blinding, and by the time the witch’s eyes readjusted the sarcophagus had changed. The lid was gone, in its place a swirling mass of magic. She knew it would lead them to the Serpent’s Pass. This was the time. This was the place. They would face Caluss here, wherever this portal might lead, and either return victorious or die horribly. A profound sense of finality settled over Valrae as she turned and awaited the arrival of the friends that had chosen to face the end of all things. Because the overwhelming sense of duty and purpose crowded her throat, there would be few words offered as they all gathered. She would wait until Lanlan gave the word, confirming that they were all accounted for and ready, before she would simply climb the edge of the sarcophagus and free fall into the writhing mass of white magic.

Kailani also opted to travel by air, at least for the initial leg of this route. The distance between her home in Venturil to the portal just outside of Vailkrin was covered in quick time thanks to the massive gryphon that Kai rides. Her loyal companion is left outside of the portal. It is true that Grimclaw is a formidable opponent who has had Kailani’s back in a number of situations, but it would break the blue-haired druid’s heart if something were to happen to him. And so Grimclaw is instructed to wait just outside of the portal while the half-elf travels the rest of the distance by foot. Even though the druid had an understanding that death was a part of life, there was still something about traveling through a region which has been permanently darkened by magic that has the hair on the back of Kailani’s neck standing on edge. Maybe it was because she was not predisposed to seeing in complete darkness and could not shake the feeling that there was always a shadow shifting in her peripheral vision. Even if Kailani was armored in dragonscale armor and armed with her precious polearm, she did not feel comfortable. It could just be a general paranoia and anxiety for what was about to hopefully transpire. The ramifications for failure were too immense for Kailani to even comprehend, and that is even if she even managed to survive a failed encounter. The druidic half elf arrives sometime after Valrae does yet well before everyone is expected to step through what appears to be a portal. As an introvert, it was hard to pull Kailani into conversation but today her want to converse is minimal due to the situation at hand. Everyone is greeted with a terse nod before blue eyes turn toward the portal. This was not the first time that Kailani has encountered such magic, having seen something similar when she made the venture to the Shadow Plane. Yet because she has no idea where stepping through this magical doorway will take care. Nor does Kailani have trust enough in the group present to feel confident that she should blindly step through. It was not them that she was here for, it was her family back in Venturil. It is their safety alone that urges Kai to step through the portal and into what she can only presume to be danger.

Khitti || It wouldn’t take the pair of redheads very long to reach the Vailkrin cemetery, as they’d stayed the night at the Black Spire, otherwise known as the Necromancer’s Guild’s tower. It would be hard for anyone but the archmage himself to figure out which witch was which in terms of realness or an illusion. For safety reasons regarding Khitti’s pregnancy, Khitt had convinced Khitti to take a backseat of sorts this time. Well. It didn’t take much convincing anyway. She already knew that this pregnancy was going to be challenging enough, so she didn’t need to make it worse. They weren’t sure just how safe she’d be, with Khitt being really the one to use their shared form, but… it was better than nothing right now. Both were dressed in their usual black, both of their hair pulled back into their respective braid styles, and both seemed to be adorned with the Celestial Abraxas Ring that had not been wielded since the magic war of Dhavislaav nearly 500 years ago. Hanging diagonally on Khitt’s form was their shared black satchel, within it the Von Schreier grimoire and the grey moonstone crystal skull, the latter of which was surrounded in magic dampening box, modeled somewhat after Callum’s safe that had been used to house the bismuth skull, though this box was able to be broken in two to allow for quick usage of the grey moonstone skull. For now, that’s where it would sit, until called upon by the redheads. Eventually, the two would find themselves within the main area of the cemetery, to which they’d look around until Khitti spied an open mausoleum. They’d go in and stop at the doorway, eyeing Valrae, and whomever else might’ve shown up before them, in silence.

Kanna could not remember how she knew to come to Vailkrin tonight, nor remember how she knew what the purpose of tonight would be. There had been something important… a message? An encounter with a stray garden snake on the route to Vailkrin had nearly sent her to Perdere and back, and the knowledge of who had called her had long been overwritten. The bardess has been drifting in and out of dissociation since her escape from Alithrya and had long forgotten how many days it had been since she had stepped foot again in Lithrydel, or who exactly it was that helped her find the way out. She had taken up camp in the Avenue of the Guilds, a familiar place, and she had been able to put on her usual mask which was a comfort in and of itself, but now she was here again. The bardess is dressed in the scene-shifting kimono that soothes her nerves when she presses her fingers against the illusioned fabric, and her diadem has taken the form of ribbons interwoven through her hair to sit at the base of her head in a neat bow. Once more, just to be sure, Kanna reaches into her small satchel to feel the familiar engravings of the onniont jar. She still had it. Reginae had not taken it. As the graveyard comes into view, she sees the familiar silhouettes of friends she had long missed. A wave of lucidity comes over her. Tonight would be the end of the nightmare she had suffered for the last three years. As she nears, she sees figures going down into the mausoleum, and her entire body begins to tremble. Underground. A place without the sky. Confinement. Despite all her performances and bravery in the past, it threatens to overtake her until she sees Valrae, Khitti, and Kailani inside. Kanna was not alone right now. With a deep breath to steel herself, she walks into the mausoleum with little more than a bow of the head and a weary smile in greeting. Kanna watches as each person sequentially travels through the portal. Had she already been told about this ahead of time? It was too late to ask now, because only she could control her weapon against Alithyk Caluss. “When in Chartsend.” She whispers to the dreary air. Instead of climbing in, she turns away from it and falls backwards as if falling through a pool of water.

Quintessa was already in Vailkrin by the time she received the call to arms. Other concerns had brought her back here but she had been working tirelessly on perfecting the rituals that Valrae and Lanlan had tasked her with. Each of them called here had an important role to play, each of them possessing a fabled artifact symbolic to their duty. Quintessa knows this symbolism will be the key to defeating Caluss, but such a thing was unprecedented. They did not write books on how to kill undead godlets, but perhaps after today they will. As the others arrive, so too does Quintessa, appearing from the umbral darkness hidden from the sister moons that loom above, her shadow-stepping boots quietly bringing her through the dirt path leading to the specified mausoleum. Her long, black cloak conceals her arms and equipment, but it can be assumed she has what she needs for this ritual. Still, despite being prepared an air of anxiety looms above the warlock like a dark stormcloud, her grim expression not softening even when she meets the others’ gaze. Should they fail here they will not get another chance; It will be death for them- nay, worse than that. It will be the end of the world as they know it. Quintessa approaches the sarcophagus, her hood falling from her head as the powerful waves of mana brush it away like the breeze. A pale hand reaches from under her cloak to outstretch, hovering over the surface of the portal, examining the unique signature of the magic that created it. A spark of curiosity lights in her eyes, renewing her sense of control. “Everything is ready.” She confirms to herself the simple phrase, spoken to steel against the God That Never Was, the godly mistake named Alithyk Caluss. With one last glance given to her allies, to Valrae, Kailani, Khitt, Khitti, Kanna, and Lanlan, people she had to unwillingly betray to get here, she takes one last, deep breath before fixing her eyes on the portal once more. “Let’s finish it.” Quintessa steps back, letting the others take the first steps through the gateway before following Kanna and lowering herself down into the sarcophagus, allowing the mystic energies of the portal to transport her to the Serpent’s Pass.

Lanlan stands solemnly in a dimly lit temple. Shadows cast from candles standing at various stages of deterioration flail against him, through him, landing on the floor and the wall behind. The other worshippers, the true believers, pass by. They’re oblivious to his existence, and they ignore him. For those people, all dressed in black robes, he has nothing but disdain. They’re all so stupid! They don’t know what listens when they pray here. Lanlan does. He grips his armlet and slides it off, and then his talisman from around his neck. In their place, he wears a circlet. Thin yew and willow intertwined, spun together and reseted on his head. Nestled delicately in the branches is a red eyed skull. His teeth could hardly part to say the words. “Lord Vakmatharas. Promiser of Eternity. If we must die, let it be true, and free from the profanity of undeath.” He bowed very slightly. “Please.” Then he left. Something was seeing him after that. He felt the eyes on him. Eye. It only had one now. That’s what he wanted, but now, dread. He buries it and finds the graveyard where Valrae he knows is already finding the entrance to the serpent’s pass. When she finds it, he suddenly knows where it is too. Knows where she is. He feels for the instrument of divinity in his pocket. It’s there of course, he knew it was. He’d been anxiously making sure it hadn’t fallen out incessantly for hours. Valrae had hers too, but he still had to make sure.

Lanlan knew what she was detecting, and that she needed time to succeed. As he left with his new ancient instrument, he constructed a magical message for the ones prophesized. His voice, hissing and ethereal, reached through the aether to Khitti, Quintessa, Kanna, and Kailani. The words come from his mouth naturally, in a way that is very unlike the Archmage everyone has come to know over these years. The message is leveled with self-praise and ego, but clear enough that everyone knows: Tonight is the night to end this once and for all. Was it dramatic enough? He only had a few words and not the clarity of mind to deliver something momentous. What he did have was his presence, long a master of concealing it when he needed to, he now projected it. To all who heard his message, his presence would become like a beacon. They would know where he was. Where he was going. Yet would they come? With luck, they'd all appear together wielding artifacts that cause even gods to be wary. When he arrived, Lanlan was standing still, in a pearlescent bubble, braving no wind, nor inertia, nor sonic boom. Though he was fast, it was more like the world spun rapidly beneath while he hovered above. And then he landed in the graveyard, homing in on Valrae through not more than intuition. But one he had come to trust. And then, through shadows and stone murderous bush he saw a white light, signaling to him. For a brief moment, he became immaterial as he passed through his obstacles and emerged unscathed before Valrae and their blinding white destiny. Despite the brilliance, he couldn't shake the truth, they were walking into a mass grave, and it might be their own.

Lanlan :: The dead may still hear and see, if there is a substantial will. It need not be their own. For months now Caluss was aware of Its enemy’s plan; they would wield godlike power to defeat him, in much the same way Xalious had wielded godlike power to defeat his age old enemy. He encouraged them in Its way, giving them room to obtain the objects they believed would allow them to find victory. They would. It wouldn’t be their victory they’d achieve. Now they’re in Vailkrin, Caluss hears the whispered prayer, weakly uttered to his father for protection against undeath. In an abyss of pitch black, stagnant air, his eye opens. Then so do countless others, countless motionless, lifeless corpses stir. And mobilize. Some time later he arrives in Vailkrin. Bursting up through ruptured ground and roads, Its infinite hive spilled like magma from wounded earth, and quickly spread. It touches the Blood Fountain. Then Caluss seems to break down, collapsing into drifting detritus, into the fountain. The flowing fluid turns viscous and sickly maroon, and the drain becomes obstructed. The corrupting slime quickly overflows and an infection of an altogether different kind begins to take place. A familiar one though, of the same kind that infected the Xalious Tree. It would begin subtly, quietly, but then it would become inevitable. A god’s domain is an extension of itself, a reflection of them and their power. This one had already been altered by another goddess’s presence, Daedria. Vailkrin was beginning to show signs of her. Now Caluss was going to alter the reflection itself, and when it stares back into Daedria herself, she would be changed. It would take time, but a being of undeath is not limited by such things. It isn’t just Daedria that will change from Its arrival in Vailkrin. A genesis of thousands of dripping, sickly locusts, heavy with decay, rises out of the sludge. The swarm of undead insects takes to the sky and disperses. They’re actually Caluss’s will. They embody and deliver it. The undead who becomes touched by one of these bugs is instantly inspired by a silent mutiny. They shrug off independence or loyalty and become part of the hive, one of Caluss’s legion. Houses across the city, mobilizing against the attack of the army that came from the initial burst, are suddenly ravaged by defectors who turn them with cursed power from the God of Undeath, and the entire city is thrown into chaos. One little bug separates itself from the calamity befalling Vailkrin, and buzzes above the graveyard. And there is Lanlan meeting his friends in their final resting place. One by one, he watches them vanish into a white light. The creature lands on a branch of hemlock, and it starts to decay rapidly. A single compound eye shimmers, reflecting the light cast at the entrance of the serpent’s pass.

Valrae || The journey through the portal is not an easy one. There was a sense of being removed, knocked out of time, and then replaced again somewhere else entirely. The world here was robbed of all color. They had arrived and yet where they stood now could be a mirror of where they’d stood only moments before. A pale glow cast an eerie hue over the tombstones, making them seem like jagged teeth reaching up from the earth. The air was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves, and the only sound would come from their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. The mirror of the two moons, silver and white now, loomed large in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the cemetery. Their light was cold and impossibly close, giving everything a ghostly pallor. It was as if you could reach up and pluck the pale moons from the endlessly black sky. The graves themselves had changed. Stones that once were so weathered by age their faces had long gone smooth were now new and seemed to be alive, their shapes distorted by the light and the shadows, twisting and contorting like tortured souls. A dark forest surrounded them now, eerily silent and completely black. Though no sounds came from it, there was a sense of danger held in the shadows that begged those who ventured here to remain on the path that twisted through the resting dead.

Valrae has known this bleached mirror of Lithrydel’s sky once before. The eerie silence of a world devoid of life, the shadows that moved and hurried in if you looked away for only a moment. As she moved to stand near the center of the graveyard, she pulled her bag from over her shoulder to make quick work of preparing the circle. Black salt, white candles, hawthorn oil, a bundle of sage and lavender to burn. Trinkets and children’s toys in the face of a god. Still, what they planned demanded ritual and it demanded power. With the Weaver’s Athame at her side she moves about, passing each a candle and offering the oil to place upon their brow. When the witch took her own place in the circle, she placed all three of the crystal skulls she now possessed in a triangle at her feet. On a deep inhale of the heady smoke of sage, Valrae waited for Lanlan to take his place in the circle so that they may begin.

Kailani was not present in Vailkrin for long enough to even begin to slightly comprehend the havoc that was being wrought in the city. The druid had stepped through the portal and her senses were entirely overwhelmed by the feelings that Kailani was experiencing. Of course, she could have no real way of knowing if she was knocked out of time and inserted into another, all she knew is that it made her stomach twist into knots. It was not at all like when she traveled to the Shadow Planes with Khitti, this was considerably more unpleasant. Once she was finally on the other side, the druid dry-heaved a few times but did not actually end up emptying the contents of her stomach. Luckily for whomever might be standing to her left or to her right. Once her stomach stops turning, Kailani can begin to process the world that they are now in. A world devoid of color. A world where people might finally stop commenting on the color of her hair? Okay, no, that thought never actually crosses Kai’s mind. She is far too serious for that. She is instead completely silent, letting her gaze traverse the area to discern the similarities and differences between this place and the one they just left. Is this where they meant to go? Kai looks toward Val, trying to read the woman’s expressions for some clue to if this was expected. It seemed that it was, the witch woman was already making preparations. Kailani would trail behind, pulling Hind’s Triskelion from its hiding place while she moves toward the space Valrae is preparing for ritual. “However I can help,” Kai states simply to the witch. All Val needed to do was instruct and Kai would assist.

Khitti || A shiver went down Khitt’s spine, like lightning hitting a tree mid-thunderstorm, as everyone else passed through the portal, leaving the two redheads for last. Khitti sensed it too of course. Their clairvoyance triggered that ever familiar nausea for the both of them, the real one and the illusion seemingly reeling for a moment as Khitt tried to catch his breath. “Something’s wrong,” Khitti said aloud, though only Khitt would be there to hear it. “We have to go back.” The male of the two shook his head, “No. They can’t finish the ritual without us and if we don’t finish the ritual, things will only worsen.” Khitti hated when he was right. After a moment’s consideration of trying to force a takeover of their shared form to go back to Vailkrin, she let him press on and cross over into the Serpent’s Pass. With a heavy sigh, Khitt adjusted to his new surroundings, with the Illusion-Khitti soon coming into view again on the other side. It reminded them both of the weird in-between area they’d found the Von Schreier loot in, though this was still far different. He’d take up his place in the circle, take the candle from Valrae, and the bit of oil as well, as Khitti stood just beside him. While she’d fuel all her own energy into the ritual, her current form would have no real bearing on it, so she did not join in with the others for this part. Khitt pondered on telling Valrae that something was wrong out there, in the “real world”, but thought better of it. It would just serve to distract them all and that’s not something that was needed right now.

Kanna emerges from the sarcophagus in reverse from how she fell in, forward and straight onto her booted feet. Her calloused hands ball into tight fists to keep from retching as she wearily follows Valrae’s lead into the grey expanse. This place is darker. This is not the sky she loves. It is still and stale, colorless without lantern light but with the illusion of mobility. It is no better than the prison she had just escaped. She looks around at the comrades gathered around her and takes her place at the edge of the circle. Kanna unfastens her satchel, but does not withdraw the onniont jar. Not yet. It was, to her knowledge, the only component directly meant to be directly detrimental; everything else could pass for being an assistant to the farce. Wait, the farce… That sounded familiar. The adrenaline coursing through her veins brings her back from the edge of dissociation and rekindles a memory. Straightening up, Kanna’s eyes come into focus as Valrae stands before her. “For the world.” She whispers, taking the candle with one hand, and brushing her bangs up and away from her forehead so that she can apply the oil with the other. When this is done, her hand rests upon her satchel. The distinct feeling of anxiety lingers, though, and Kanna’s eyes search the grey landscape. “When you become a god, do you get to decide what kind of god you will be?” Her soubrette breaks the overwhelming silence, making sure to project her nonchalant performance so all can hear. Despite her coy smile, her hands are visibly shaking, and there’s a slight twitch to her smile. C’mon everyone, lighten up, this is supposed to be a ritual not a funeral! Oh gods, if she died here, would she even get a funeral? Her hands tremble more.

Quintessa grinds her teeth as her stomach lurches in reaction to the rapid wrapping this portal was doing to her body. She was used to portals, to stepping into the gaps between spaces and coming out the other side, but this was not it. Something distinctly powerful had kept this location separated from their plane and that sense of importance was not lost on her. The changeling steps forward, her boots grinding into the gravel but not exploring far save for letting his mismatched eyes wander this eerie landscape. She wraps her cloak tight against her body, her breath visible as she lets out a slow exhale, pivoting to look around her and by the time she has made this slow circle Valrae has already begun to work. Quintessa moves to join her, falling to her knees next to her, drawing out a bag of bewitching powder; rose petals, jasmine, patchouli pulverized into dust which the changeling immediately begins to empty out in a circle around the triple skulls. “Yn y cricl hwn yr wyf yn gorchymyn y tri… cyflwyn- wch eich galluoedd i chwi…” she whispers, raising to create a new circle, one that surrounds all those that have taken a place in it. Her eyes flicker up to look at Kanna when she speaks about choosing what kind of god to be, emptying the rest of the powder onto the ground before taking her place in the circle. “We become what we have to be when the time comes for it,” Quintessa answers solemnly for her, forcing a weak smile. If the acting had already started then certainly Caluss was already watching. The warlock pretends she doesn’t feel its gaze upon her, instead focusing on the ritual, anointing her forehead before doing the same to the candle in her hands. “Repeat what we do for now, “Quintessa finally says to Kailani, her soft, false smile still present. “When the time comes for you to use what you have brought, you will know.”

Lanlan :: Caluss emerges without any pomp through the portal. A lonely little bug, slick with the ooze of undeath. To a being like itself, the traveling was of little consequence. What irked him more was that such a place could exist without his knowledge. It must’ve happened after he was cast out of Vakmatharas’s likeness. Carved out and discarded, but not killed. They couldn’t do that to him, even the gods. So how could these mortals? But this place…in it he could sense truly great power. Perhaps even -infinite- power. Maybe utilizing the ambient forces here, they could kill him. Maybe they -could- even birth a god here. There silly little ritual was beginning, and he could sense the forces shifting, bending their flow. He drew nearer, but only by increments. Caluss’s power reflects here too, everything here was supposed to be permanent and unchanging. Yet every tree branch or blade of grass he landed on wilted and turned black.

Valrae || If the situations were not as dire as they were, Valrae might have had the forethought to warn her companions of the less than ideal after effects of travel to the Serpent’s Pass. Instead, all she could offer now was a look of sympathy to Kailani as she recognized the familiar nausea. “Sorry,” She murmurs, offering her a candle in response to her readiness to help. “We’ll need to call down power.” She worked in tandem with Quintessa, a strange but familiar synchrony within the craft at work. To Khitt and Khitti, no words were shared as a look passed between them and she pressed a candle into his palm and offered him a nod. Kanna was met with a smile, “For the world.” She echos. She addresses the rest of them as well, raising her voice so that she may be heard. She took one last look around the circle and watched as Lanlan disappeared. It was showtime. Like the mage, she could feel the power connected to this place. It had been preserved for centuries, perhaps longer, and it was humming just beneath the surface. She called to it now, lifting her hands to the dark imitation of sky as the candle she’d once held levitates before her. As the illusion of herself chanted, so did the reality of her. Her voice rose up in unison, lyrical words in a long forgotten language spurning forth all that power and beckoning to her fingertips. The crystal skulls at her feet began to glow, rising up from the earth as if lifted by unseen hands as a chorus of voices joined her own. They hummed with mana, their crystal eyes black as the once still jaws opening on cracking hinges. The illusion of Valrae breaks away from her circle though, “Wait!” She cries, “Lanlan, what if you aren’t ready to ascend?” But the reality of Valrae did not break her line. The witch could sense the abhorrent god creature now, tainting even this place as he emerged from the portal. While the magic grew, it seemed to go wild in the illusion, the false image of Valrae scurrying back to her candle to do what needed to be done. It was too late to turn back now, whatever they’d unleashed her was wild and it was hungry. In the true circle, they were connected at each point by stead and unwavering flame. As the god neared, Valrae unsheathed the Weaver’s Athame with trembling hands and watched for Lanlan’s signal with her heart beating in her ears.

Kailani action : had the Triskelion, but the druid truly had no real way of using it. It is not like she sat there trying to experiment with what she assumed to be some sort of artifact of great importance. What if she was reckless during this experimentation and got it taken away? Kailani could do nothing but hope that she had made the right choice and that trying to figure out how to get the Triskelion to respond and do…..she didn’t even know what it was supposed to do. Slight panic which manifested only through Kailani’s eyes growing wide as her fingers gripped the edges of the Triskelion. Most of the conversation around Kailani is ignored, paying it little more notice to it than you would a buzzing fly. It did not seem pertinent to the mission at hand. That is, until Quintessa seems to speak directly to Kailani, the words are heard and acknowledged with a nod. Kailani tries to keep her focus on the ritual at hand, to force herself to ignore the sensation that creeps up her spine when Caluss pops into this realm. She has not seen it yet, but somehow the druid knows it is here. Fingers grip the edge of the Triskelion like she is scared that Caluss might pop up right behind her and snatch it from her very clothes. It could, but it does not. While the fake ritual continues to be performed so that Lanlan can ascend, Kai closes her eyes and focuses her energy on the mysterious and powerful triskelion clutched between her two hands. She would have no clarity in what to do if she did not keep her mind from reeling into a state of panic.

Khitti || Both Khitt and Khitti joined in with the chanting once it began, speaking the strange tongue they did not understand, channeling both dark and light magic alike into the ritual. But along the way, as the skulls in front of them began to respond to the spell, so too did the grey moonstone crystal skull within its containment box in Khitt(i)’s satchel. Khitt could feel it trembling somewhat, a brief sidelong glance given to the bag at his side. The box was threatening to break beneath the weight of the pull of the spell, but Khitt’s face did not betray the worry he started to feel within. ‘It’ll be fine. Trust that it’ll be fine. It will open when we desire it to. Fate did not pair us together like this to fail now. It wasn’t for Brand and Annette--it was for this very moment.’ Khitti’s words filled their shared mind and Khitt steeled himself further. With the ring already on his hand, he was ready at a moment’s notice to use it, waiting only for the signal that the group would need to betray the bug that had slithered its way into the Serpent’s Pass. Both redheads bit their tongues equally, doing their best to keep their thoughts to themselves, rather than spewing the vitriol they’ve wanted to spill for months at Caluss. Instead, much like Kailani, they put their thoughts to the Celestial Abraxis Ring, remembering what Annika Von Schreier had written about it in her grimoire so very long ago as they raised their voices to the faux ritual’s cause.

Kanna straightens up as the illusioned Lanlan takes his place within the circle. As a trained bard, she can see the anxiety written on everyone’s expressions, and it bolsters her to maintain her mask for as long as she can. As she joins into the chanting, the skull in Khitt’s bag is not the only object reacting to the powers of this plane. Kanna can feel the jar trembling against her hip, and she swears she can feel the weight of the dying screams of the onniont’s ancestors slamming against the walls of the jar in an effort to be released. Even in such a powerful container, a container Kanna had destroyed herself to create alongside Leralynn and Khitti, the screams of the dead knew that it was coming closer. Kanna could feel it as well; the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and the ribbons in her hair sway with an unfelt wind as she wills the diadem to remain in its disguised form. Not yet. Not yet. Her free hand inches under the flap of the satchel, pinching the jar’s lid against its base with her index finger and thumb so it does not open too soon. This was not the Chaos Realm. This was not Alithrya. This was not the slavers’ hideout. Kanna was going to be the one in control here, so help her, Hind. She watches as the illusioned figures in the circle complete their act, and Kanna raises her candle higher into the silvery sky and chants louder, as though indicating to an unseen audience that the ritual is coming to a crescendo.

Quintessa rises a hand and sways, the unlit candle clutched tightly to her chest as she whispers the next words, tapping into the freely given energies provided via the ritual. The bewitching power glows a faint, opalescent hue, shimmering and shifting as the mixed energies meld. “Bwrw'r cylch, dod â'r pŵer, ymuno â'r cylch, yfed ein pŵer…” She chants, influencing the magic, creating a dome around them like an aurora. Her place was here, doing this, she could not risk becoming distracted with Lanlan’s illusions or the fact that the undead deity that she betrayed was looming nearby, she had to hope that the ruse would be successful. None of their sacred objects could be captured, especially not Caluss’s Eye, the gemstone she still had hidden on her for the right time. For Alithyk Caluss to reclaim it and become whole once again would doom the party. Quintessa pauses her chanting for a second, just to give a glance to the others, to Kailani who still seemed uncertain and to the twins, who weren’t really twins but at this point it didn’t rightly matter. All that mattered was that they were here and that when given the signal they hit that bug, the Insectoid That Dwells Between Worlds, with everything they had. Quintessa would have to be better than she normally was; There could be no mistakes. “Golau.” She speaks, the magic word lighting the candles that were not already lit and infusing them with the opalescent magic that swirled around them, turning the flames into brilliant hues every color of the rainbow. Looking to Lanlan she waits for the order, ignoring the very real panic and tension that was rising up her spine. Any second now, any second…

Lanlan could feel the godlet’s presence encroaching ever-nearer, or so he thought. He thought he could feel it on his coat, on his collar, on his sleeve. He thought he felt its shadow on his back. With trepidation, he looks behind. It isn’t there. Of course it isn’t. But it -is- here, that much he knew. Somewhere, it was watching. At Valrae’s direction, he withdrew the Infinite Prism from his pocket. Possibly a mistake, he accidentally looked at it. Inside, he saw himself in a strange graveyard, out of time and space. He was holding a small cube made of glass. And this one saw another Lanlan inside that cube, that was holding another cube, and that one saw… He reasserts his consciousness on the task at hand, with Valrae’s help. He heard her illusion’s voice calling out to him. Did she see his illusion waver? Lanlan’s illusion enters back. “No…! It’s okay. I think I’m ready. I think…I can almost feel it!” Yes, he would be feeling it soon. As their chanting rose ever louder, an enormous power was called down from the heavens above to touch down on the earth beneath fake-Lan’s feet. It coursed over him, around him, through him, and he reels back in either agony or exultation. Meanwhile, he along with his allies, colleagues, and (dare he even think it) friends, is drawing real power. This was going to be a familiar experience for him, he thought, recalling the time they banished Caluss’s curse from Cenril. What an impressive and terrible display of power, one that quickly went out of control. He could feel it funneling toward their circle, toward the six, toward their objects. His own magic power was joining it, wispy tendrils that spiral hypnotically out of his person and join the collective flood they were gathering.

Lanlan :: This was Caluss’s time to strike. A lone fly, bulbous, one eyed, and heavy with some kind of sickly ooze, hovers over to the illusion of Lanlan. Then it abruptly explodes outward with a massive arm, hooked at the end with birdlike talons. They puncture Lanlan, casting his blood in a spray across the rest of the procession, and fling him like a ragdoll out of the circle entirely. This Lanlan rapidly begins to decay, putrefaction spreading from the three gouges in his neck and chest. It seems to anyway. “My friends…” It whispers breathily, taking the place of Lanlan to absorb the torrent of power. “Thank you for this…gift…” Its form is somewhat obscured by the energy, but its form is familiar. A largely insectoid structure, desiccated and black, slick with the oil of corruption that bleeds from the cracks in its chitinous shell. Its head bobbed on a bending, slender column of vertebrae, linked delicately by veiny tendrils. It swayed slightly, basking in the energy it was absorbing. The energy it should be absorbing.

Kanna shuts her eyes as she feels something approaching, not with the careful crawl of something that may or may not be there, but with the distinct sensation of prey that knows a predator is mid-leap and it is too late to escape. She is frozen as her tormentor appears before her again. This being was infinitely worse than any overly complex schemes that the man who birthed her could ever dream up, and as she looks away from him and down to the satchel on her hip, the grey landscape beneath her feet changes as well. It takes on a sickly red color, pulsating like skinned flesh with droplets of rot and blood beading up between the living musculature. For a moment, she is back in Caluss’ hiding place in the Chaos Realm, helpless to do anything but wish she were dead as the insect masquerading as a demigod leered over her and called her the name of the mortal that scorned its advances. Kanna looks back up, her eyes wide and wild as the sensation of bugs crawling all over her body resurfaces. The world flickers back and forth between the dark grey landscape, her crimson torture cell, and the pristine white marble of her last prison. Somewhere she can hear someone screaming for her to do it now. What was it that she was doing, though?! She had to get out of here! Kanna pulls her arm up from the satchel to cover her head and scream, knocking the onniont jar from its hiding place and sending it down to the ground. By the grace of the gods, it hits the top of her boot instead of the ground, preventing the container from shattering. The screams of thousands of onnoint slain over the millennia as they were hunted to near extinction pour out, seeking a target on which to exact their fury. They needn’t look further than the creature that masquerades as a being with power now at the center of the circle, and they strike true. As Kanna screams, her nails digging into her skull, her diadem shifts back into its true form, reacting to the threat. Two thick thorns of yew and willow spear out, impaling the one-eyed bug through its wings and distracting it long enough for everyone else to begin their attacks, and immobilizing it just long enough for the vengeful onnionts’ cries to strike true. An inhuman screech joins Kanna’s terrified wail. For Alithyk Caluss, its vision shifts from the immaterial mortals it was hunting into a blur of colors, and its body seizes as it tries to move away from the requiem of the vengeful, the requiem of the hurt, the requiem of the lost, and the requiem for those who will give their entirety to prevent another unneeded funeral march.

Kailani ’s blue eyes snap open just in time to see Caluss launch an attack on Lanlan. It suddenly became very clear to Kailani, the purpose of the Triskelion. It had not been obvious to her at first, but flashes of where she found this relic begin to enter her mind. In a tree, a tree that managed to grow in an underground cavern with pretty much no light. The only way that would be possible would be if this relic amplified life and growth. With understanding of what the object in her hands will do and the determination to put an end to Caluss once and for all, Kailani channels all her willpower and energy through the triskelion. Kanna provides the distraction that is sorely needed, disorienting the being enough so that it can’t simply walk away from what triskelion will offer to this fight. The ground surrounding Caluss begins to tremor and the earth begins to turn as roots begin to grow beneath the surface at a rapid rate, the triskelion considerably fueling the speed of their growth. Soon this roots are ripping up from the earth and entangling themselves around Caluss’ legs, wrapping and climbing upward with the goal of training to constrain him. The being is likely able to successfully rip the roots off of its body, but the rate of growth is so intense that for every one root removed another two are emerging from the earth to ensare Caluss. The appearance of the plantlife as it initially emerges from the ground is not out of the ordinary. It’s a root, brown in color with little flashes of green growth on it. Caluss may not be able to completely free itself from these roots, but its magic does seem to be twisting it. After some contact, the color of the roots changes from brown to black. Is that a bad sign? Will the bindings hold? These are brief thoughts, but all Kailani can do is continue to channel the triskelion and will further growth into existence. Up the roots go, up its legs, up its midsection, binding its arms, and then layering for strength. This was not a cage she wanted Caluss to break free from. Ever.

Lanlan :: Caluss becomes wise to the trick almost just in time. But not quite, rather he is ravaged by Kanna and her strange jar. “Ah, the Lady Callio-” Its voice is drowned. -Its- voice. Caluss’s voice, outdone by this mortal and her jar? Caluss is stunned twice, by the horrendous and anguished cries from the collected woes of an entire species of enchanted beings, and again by the fact that it was happening to him. It caused Its mind to stutter. It would like to strike her down personally, and bend its spindly and strong limbs toward Kanna and would have punctured her fragile, weak, replaced mortal heart if it weren’t for…These…twigs. “No such construct of life can affect me,” It said, as it tore the branches away from Its body, as It wilted them into desiccated, curling twigs. But they grew through It too, thats what It didn’t see. No feeling. A mortal, or even another god might have felt the pain of it. Caluss can only continue moving forward against forces that seek to restrain it. But those aren’t its only options, and if it can’t strike them down personally, It will strike them down in other ways. It takes its talons to itself, and draws a huge gash into its own chitinous belly. Ooze covered masses fall out of its guts and plop onto the ground with a splat. Then they stand. Humanoids, wielding great weapons, and wearing shimmering black armor. Their skin is surprisingly intact, though grey. Warriors fallen to a judge’s conviction, and their wings fan out behind them. Fivewarriors, with wings contrived of their own flesh and bone, stretched and warped, skin stretched taut around their ribs. Each of them could be a twin, wiedling a viciously serrated sword and carrying a cursed magic, coating their free hands with a blight that wouldn’t just kill an enemy, it would torment them first. They fly out suddenly, only seconds after they land on the ground, and each already knows its target. Its a pillar of the circle. A witch or a mage or a druid, each has their lives suddenly destined to end by one of these deathly reavers.

Khitti || Khitt wouldn’t need a true signal from anyone else. Just as they had gotten an ill feeling before they passed through the portal, so too did Khitt(i) now get another as Caluss made his move. “Oh, we -definitely- brought you a gift, you disgusting bug,” Khitt said with a malice-filled grin. The hand with the ring on it curled into a fist and thrust itself outward towards the God of Undeath, with Khitti joining along doing the same. A massive shield of swirling black and white magic poured from the ring, mirroring the duality of Valaane and Arh’Nuk, of Life and Death, shadow and light, as well as Khitti and Khitt themselves. For the first time ever, their magicks mixed and did not create an ground-shattering explosion, and it soon congealed into a grey orb much like the color of their moonstone skull. The magicks solidified like glass and spread outward, surrounding the ground entirely, a barrier to shield them all from harm. It would take both Khitti and Khitt to maintain it. And if they couldn’t do it, well… then there was truly no hope for Lithrydel or the rest of the world. As the two held fast the grey shield, sweat began to bead up on Khitt’s forehead. The amount of power that it took would start to take hold over time, draining magic from the redheads, as well as physical and mental energy. With Caluss’ onslaught, hairline cracks would start to splinter outward from the middle of the barrier, a testament of the god’s power. This was but another signal that alerted another creature within the group that only Archmage Lanlan was aware of, until now. Freeing itself from the crystal skull’s box within Khitt(i)’s satchel, a black and purple butterfly made itself known. Shadows began to bend around it, as the shade took its former humanoid form. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, little flea,” came the stuck-up, shrill voice of Amarrah Facilier. “The only one that gets to kill the Herzeglers is -me-.” The black-haired, charcoal-skinned spirit brought a hand to her spectral mouth and laughed in an equally hysterical and haughty manner before putting the same appendage out in front of her to channel her pure Shadow Plane magic into the shield. The cracks glowed the same purple as Khitt(i)’s shadowfire, Amarrah’s violet eyes shining to match it, gluing all the cracks together. Oh, that shield would absolutely hold now--the three of them would make sure of it.

Quintessa || The piercing sound of the Onniont's Cry serves as the signal Quintessa needs, shaking her free from the devastation that had fallen upon the illusion of Lanlan. She turns to face it, the magic dome encircling the group shifting and reacting to the volatile emotions rising inside of them, flaring up, emitting lightning strikes and sparks of fire that fizzle out as soon as they are created. With their foe stunned by Kanna’s opening strike, Quintessa’s confidence inflates as Kailani is quick follow up, using the Sacred Triskelion of Hind to ensnare Caluss. She’s impressed with their instincts, but the changeling knows it will not be this easy. Unlike Kanna, Quintessa refuses to allow the memories of what happened to her in the Chaos Realm come to the surface. They linger in the peripherals, never leaving and always nagging, causing a vitriol hatred to bubble up inside of her. All of her woes were because of Alithyk Caluss and today she would finally have her revenge. Its terrible voice echoes out to address Kanna, its Lady Callio, sending shivers through Quintessa’s body. Her hands fumble inside of her cloak, reaching for the grapefruit sized gem that had been cut away from Caluss’ influence, hidden away from it during this pivotal moment. When her mismatched eyes fall upon the five Champions of Alithyk Caluss, she knows what she must do. The Herzeglers’ shield gives Quintessa plenty of time to work, to breathe her magic into the Eye of Caluss and reactivate it. Remembering the thick cords that had embedded themselves into her own core before, invisible to the naked eye and mostly intangible, she makes the motion as if tugging on them, spreading them out like thin strings of the Weave. She targets the warrior before her fighting against the barrier put up by the mythical ring, the intangible threads passing through and stringing up the undead champion like a marionette, placing him under Quintessa’s direct control. The power of the artifact, a literal piece of the godlet that created this undead, is impossible to resist, and thus it immediately turns its sword against the champion next to it, rending through its armor and slicing it in twain with a heavy overhead strike. “Hold,” Quintessa calls out to her allies, more threads being pulled loose from Caluss’ Eye to ensnare the next undead warrior, to make it a puppet to use against the God That Never Was and Never Will Be. “We must finish the ritual!”

Valrae || The shadows that had been writhing just beyond them riot now, pulling closer as the God descended upon the illusion. Where there was once the stillness of nothing, there is a flurry of activity and motion as the wind, cold as the grave, buffets around them and bends the tops of blackened trees. Gravel and dust fly. Valrae’s braid snaps behind her like a golden ribbon as her chanting continues, the flame before her never wavering as it shines with the colors lent to it from Quintessa’s magic. She can feel the answering call of Khitt(i)’s sister skull, sense the hardly contained power of Kailani and Kanna’s own powerful artifacts as her Athame sends a wave of fire up through her palm and deep into the marrow of her bones. The horrific power Quintessa must contain, so connected to the godling of undeath and tasked with the burden of his eye. And then it happens. Lanlan’s Prism is brought out and Caluss strikes. The smell of death and ruin has bile rising in her throat as she flinches from the cries unleashed from Kanna’s jar. The ground quakes and threatens to knock her from her feet as Kailani unleashes untold druidic magics. Still, Caluss does not fall. The spark remains, and the Athame burns in her hand. She breaks the circle. Her candle holds, the towering flame dulling only for a moment before it sparks out again. And Valrae is running, slipping beyond the barrier of white and black and shadow magic that Khitt(i) and Amarrah have created. She’s plunged into chaos.

Valrae || The world beyond the circle is madness as Caluss unleashes his horrific warriors. They slam into the barrier, all but one who has spotted this soft and shining target in the dark. The crystal skulls circle Valrae, orbiting around her as she sprints across the graveyard, dodging crooked headstones that seem to reach out in effort to halt her desperate race. She’s close enough to reach out now, to begin clawing upward on the black roots that Kailani has summoned to halt Caluss, when a serrated blade arcs toward her neck. She drops low, only seconds from what would have been a horrific decapitation, and pivots to face the undead reaver. Fighting down the fear that threatened to consume her, Valrae holds her free hand aloft and cries out. Magic erupts from her splayed fingers in blinding white light. What little flesh remains on the creature peels back, sloughing off of its yellow and black bones in wet, putrid chucks. And Quintessa’s power rose, halting the undead creature from striking out again. The witch wastes no more of her borrowed time. With the Weaver’s Athame in her hand, Valrae climbs. It’s slow, painfully slow as she rises. Higher, higher as the god thrashes and threatens to throw her back toward the cold ground that awaits below. But Valrae does not fall, instead, she draws back. With the Weaver’s Athame in her hand, Valrae closes her eyes. Where she’d anointed herself in oil, a light of gold and white emerges. A third eye, one of power, opens up. Within it, the threads of mana and power make themselves known. In prismatic colors in which there were no known words, they appeared in a tangled mass. At the center of the madness, a seed emerges.

Valrae || It was as vile as it was beautiful to behold. What should never be, something fractured and not quite whole. A light so bright it could have dwarfed even the sun, clouded in a thick miasma of rot and death and the black. Tangled and knotted in threads of bile and black blood, of ruin and sickly yellow puss. Near the very core of Caluss now, Valrae brought the shimmering blade down. Screaming with effort, she plunged the wickedly sharp blade into those cords again and again, until her body trembled with the effort, until she lost herself in the motion and there was only pain as the god slapped out at her, his own howling unlike anything that she’d ever heard. She reached out, falling backward as pain wracked her body. It was like dying. It was like she’d never left the fire of her first life. It was deeper than bone and seared through her soul as she fell back, crashing into the ground with the seed of godhood clutched to her chest. She landed hard, the Athame and the seed of divinity flying from her as black bloomed in dancing spots behind her eyes. Was it fate that had that glowing, writhing mass of divinity at Lanlan’s feet? Valrae did not know, for all she saw as she closed her eyes was the death blow of Caluss falling toward her as she reached down to the lyre that rested at her hip. With the last of her strength, her fingers brushed the blessed strings. A single note rose in the noise of battle as she closed her eyes on a final prayer.

Kasyr || A simple, subtle sound rings out from the lyre. A harmony that continues to climb moment by moment, drowning out both the incomplete godlings furtive attempts to overpower the onnionts' cry. With it comes the scent of the salt, a nostalgic tinge that serves as a balm against the growing rot. One accompanied by something akin to a shadow at the periphery of one's vision, save that it was the hint of color- subtle mauves and radiant golds alighting the otherwise blank canvass of the world, and heralding in a fresh sea of stars to overlook the battlefield.

They shimmer into existence like fireflies in the night, spreading endlessly from one end of the unnatural firmament to the other- unknown constellations gleaming bigger and brighter with every passing moment- sparkling trails left in their wake. And then the heavens fall.

A silvery streak tears down from the sky, burying itself into the deathless lords visage- soon to be joined by a twin, and then another- countless gleaming fragments littering both his body and the battlefield in a startling blanket of . . . steel. They were not stars descending from the heavens but a shimmering array of swords- a seemingly infinite expanse of blades, imbued with Daedria's blessing, an infuriating act of Defiance from the divinity he sought to devour- and a clever means of obfuscating the arrival of the trenchcoated figure that lay among them. A cursory glance around the battlefield is all he can afford, before his hands set to work- leading the scattered blades into motion like a conductor does an orchestra, some redirected in an effort to provide cover to the others present, while others are set to the grim task of flaying an undying carcass. Still, if the look of concentration on his face was any indicator- this was far from over.

Lanlan :: Based on what Lanlan’s seen and read and theorized, he knows he’ll need Caluss to be somewhat still, and he’ll need time to extract the powers of this strange little cube out into the world (or whatever construct they existed on today), and he needed to be resolute. But how could he? Resolute. Adamant. Steady. These things were not Lanlan. Caluss was before him, and though he did fall for the ruse, Lanlan had now seen what it was capable of, had seen it -eliminate- Tristoth. In hours. The god of undeath. And yet, it was happening, truly happening. Kanna nearly knocked his lights out with the cacophonous dirge of an enchanted being, their cries for vengeance and justice causing even a god to tremble and quake. Not to mention the very world they seemed to stand on. Kailani called roots up from some unseen and perhaps endless tree, one with enough tenacity and resilience and stubbornness to grow even in the bones and sinew of Caluss Itself. For a moment, Lanlan thought it would be enough, that they could be successful. Until those screeching horrors emerged from Its belly, and flew at them, at him, with divine speed and celerity. He wouldn’t be able to attack and defend against such things. And exact his own measure against Caluss? He couldn’t. He shuts his eyes as the creature flies and brings his sword down toward his next. Then its Khitti, and Khitt, and Amarrah, AND Tessa, who save him and everyone from Its retribution. What should’ve been a death blow (he could almost see his own head on the ground, staring back at him) was halted by divinity it seems. The monster’s profane blade stopped just short of his neck. He opens his eyes only when he hears Quintessa. She wasn’t dead, and neither is he. But there’s no joy to be gained in what he sees next, because its Valrae, leaden with perhaps the most unspeakable burden of having to touch that wretched thing. With equal parts fervor and tenacity and divine accuracy, she manages to dislodge the creature’s very essence of power, and the putrid and profane thing is torn out of him. The tendrilous veins that used to hold it tight within his body and soul flail and writhe, desperate to possess the thing that was their purpose, but its no use. They’ve been severed.

Lanlan :: Spurred on by the boon of his friends, Lanlan activates the Infinite Prism. The cube itself seems to grow to the size of himself and of Caluss, both, but somehow the sides are perfect mirrors of each other. It slowly shrinks again, the walls of the cube closing slowly around Caluss’s exposed spark. It’s then that Caluss begins to recognize his ultimate failure, and to even begin to experience fear. Perhaps the most potent kind. It inspires an incredible and violent burst within Caluss, as he tries to break free of his growing chains with even more earnest. Waves of negative energy emanate from him, washing over each of them. Lanlan recognizes Its fear almost instantly, and latches on. As the prism’s mirrored walls close down on its spark, a vision appears before them, incarnated out of Caluss’s own fear. An individual with skin similar to Caluss’s own, but not so unclean. A deep black hue, almost glossy, and pure. Its a person, clad in the finery of a person rested finally for their funeral, but with more adornments. It wears the treasure of every person buried with a bribe to arrive at their blissful eternity. Gold, silver, diamonds, emeralds, they hang off its limbs. The sight of this being stills Caluss. No fight, no flight. As it reaches toward Caluss, the hand of death is cold, frosting the air around it. It passes seamlessly through Caluss, and around the heart. As it does so, it leans in close, close enough to whisper. Lanlan can’t hear what is said, but perhaps he did see the profane god’s pitch black flesh grow somewhat paler. Then it turns around, and seems to see into all of them, to speak into them. “There must be consequences for this,” it whispers, deafeningly loud. Then it drops Caluss’s beating heart into Lanlan’s hands. Of course, the object that lands in his hands is the infinite prism, now full. Then the being dissipates into blorple mist.

Kanna || As her lungs empty of air, the true world comes back to Kanna. Her chest burned and her eyes were slick with tears, and her head was spinning. The chitinous monster has multiplied, veiled behind a layer of grey webbed with purple. The same purple of the magic that healed Kanna’s hands several times over when she was undead. The same shadowfire purple that belonged to the sister that she had lost and found again, only to ultimately be shunned by her… because of the things that Alithyk Caluss made her do. ‘If you weren’t here, my father wouldn't have done what he had to me! Dyraxdiin would still be alive! Gods, maybe Odhranos would still be alive too, I can’t know everything you’ve done for Caluss! Quintessa wouldn't be in this state! If you hadn’t made such a stupid choice, Quintessa wouldn’t have gotten nearly killed by Kasyr!’ The stinging final words between two women who only had each other in a world that had sought to turn them into weapons. Kanna’s hands drop from clutching her head, having still held onto the candle of her ritual during her flashback. With a slow movement, she kneels and picks up the screaming jar, gently brushing the ground where foliage had been before the jar had rested upon it. Standing straight now, holding it to her chest, the jar glows alight. As if reacting to an unspoken call, the screams of the dead stop pouring out, and the lid is replaced. One cacophony is replaced by another, though. Her gaze lifts to the humanoid warriors just on the opposite side of the barrier. Kanna was done being the victim. She had been a damsel in distress her entire life, and the only person who could save her was herself. Her chest heaves as the spears from her diadem retract, then one spear shoots back out past the barrier. The movement is so sudden that it can only swing and miss once before it is immobilized. Her head turns to another that is honing in on cracks in the shield, and the second spear opposite her head snakes out, immobilizing a second. With Quintessa having destroyed one and taking two as marionettes, Kanna steps forward when Valrae does, bringing the circle in closer and tighter. Dropping the candle now that its purpose has been served, she moves through the shadowfire-reinforced barrier. With her bare hands, grips the creatures’ wrists, one hand on each. As they struggles to inflict blight on her with their hands pressed to their sides, Kanna turns her head left, then right, staring into the holes in its face where its eyes should be. “You will inflict your blight upon your master.” A wave of bardic magic passed down to her through generations, honed through a necessity to survive in a land where violence was not always the way, pulses through her hands and into the miniature Calusses. No sooner does the magic fade from her fingertips do the soldiers go limp.

Kanna || Kanna retracts the immobilizing yew and willow branches and fixes her eyes on the crippled Alithyk Caluss. Its own soldiers then turn in shuddering movements, compelled by a powerful charming spell to face the impaled insectoid instead of Kanna. “You are correct. I am no longer bound by the constructs of life because of YOU!” Kanna shouts over the cacophony. The warrior reacts to her emotions and lurches forward, severing one of Caluss’ sickly thin limbs just a heartbeat away from impaling Valrae as she feverishly works at cutting away something unseen. Black gore drips from the hole as the arm begins to regenerate, but it is not quick enough, as a steel sword pierces through what would be a shoulder socket, cutting off the pathway. The colors and blinking of stars are lost to the bardess as her curls whip around her face, once a earthy chestnut brown and now forever tainted grey from her time as Alithyk Caluss’ slave. “You ARROGANT!” Kanna holds a hand out, and one of the stolen soldiers swings its sword down at its former master. The second arm falls to the ground, its black chitin melting away to reveal the yellowed muscle beneath, which pulsates and thrashes about like a lizard’s tail that has been just been cut from the body. A pathetic cry erupts from the being that was once connected directly to Vakmatharas’ power. “LECHEROUS!” She shouts, stomping her foot on the lost limb as the two soldiers lunge at Caluss to peel the chitin from its flesh with their blighted claws. The insectoid is helpless to do anything but scream as the swords, claws, and roots cut into its flesh. Perhaps the verbal assault from something it considered to be a pawn is humiliating enough that it would cause damage as well, but it doesn’t matter to Kanna. She just wants to be heard. “ABOMINATION!” Kanna’s face turns pink from the exertion of screaming with all her might, something the woman has rarely done, if ever. “How DARE you weaponize MY bardic magic for your SICK QUEST!” She finishes her tirade by storming up to the creature and shoving the onniont jar lid-first into its open and screaming mouth. “SHUT UP!!!”

Kailani :: There was a battle raging all around Kailani and yet some amount of trust had to be placed into her comrades. A battle that no longer involved just Caluss but his minions too. It was at this moment that there was some slight regret in leaving Grimclaw behind, she knew that he would have her back solely. Which meant that she could focus on wielding the triskelion, for as Kailani saw it she had two choices: disengage trying to cage Caluss so that she could engage with his little minions. Caluss it was. Kailani would not stop until she could not see a single inch of Caluss’ body. That was her singular focus. Everyone else could go about whatever it was they felt they needed to do to kill this monster, but this is what Kai knew to be her part. Now that her comrades are actively engaged in battle, the triskelion reveals a second ability of its. A healing aura is cast rather indiscriminately around the area, through no real control of Kailani. Kai was always stronger with herbal healing over magical healing. Those who are living, might appreciate this little healing bump.

Lanlan :: Caluss fights on despite the loss of his divinity, despite the fact that he’s become grafted with tree roots. He flails on, purely out of spite now. His fate may be sealed, but he’ll do the same to the rest of these cretins too. His might pulls a tree root out of the earth, and when it sinks back down it causes a swarm of angry spectres to emerge from the gravesoil. They sparkle with an dusty mist, before darkening at his influence. Chains dangle from around their limbs and connect them to the tree, as trapped as Caluss is. Still, they lunge forth to the wardens who imprisoned Caluss with naught but fury and shredding claws. They’ll attack their very souls. Caluss itself, lurches forward, flapping its bony, flesh-torn wings, radiating wave after wave of blighted magic curses at its enemies. It shrieks at them, not realizing the power of its voice no longer carries on like the wail of a banshee, though the horrid sound is certainly the bane of all who hear it. It wails on with unending breath until Kanna suddenly stuffs its mouth with the Onniont’s jar. Then, it flails its wings out at her, though thanks to Kailani and her triskelion, they’re beginning to look much more like tree branches now. Try as it might, it can’t bend the limbs far enough toward itself to dislodge the jar. In a moment of desperation and perhaps sheer confusion, it swallows the jar, which vanishes down its throat. Its movement along its body can almost be traced, to the point where It no longer exists, and a blackened trunk has taken root. Then there’s a pulse. One so massive it can’t be contained by this plane of existence, and the entire ground beneath them is destabilized. It starts at the horizon; chunks of earth and stone, entire trees of the forest, are pulled up into the sky, where they begin to disintegrate. Another great burst of effort from Caluss, and he pulls up another long trunk of the tree, cracking it and stretching out one great and taloned claw, he uses it to shred his former allies, plunging the hooking talons through one’s armor and slamming it into the other. The roots chase his limb, catching it again and pulling it back down toward the soil.

Khitti ||Now was the time to truly strike--it was the moment Khitti and Khitt had been waiting for, for months! They were practically shivering with anticipation. “Amarrah, babe,” Khitt said, addressing the spirit next to him once the deed was done, Valrae and Lanlan succeeding in their de-deification of Caluss. “Would you care to dance with me?” Khitt, now was not the time for dancing. Or hitting on ghosts. “It would be my pleasure, Red.” Amarrah put a hand out for the male witch to take, and he did, pulling the spirit towards him, and spinning her while their joined magicks continued to hold up the barrier. As Amarrah spun into his arms, both she and Khitti faded from view. Much like the day where they returned Kasyr to his revenant self, another fusion between the redheaded witches and Amarrah took place. Khitt’s eyes shifted from their usual olive-green to Amarrah’s violet, as black lightning began to crackle along the ground, his voice a mix of his, Amarrah’s, and Khitti’s. “Oh, little bug, we’ve waited so long for this moment. You have sown much death, and now the reaper comes for -you-!” Khitti || The ground shook beneath the group’s feet as shadows seeped down into the earth, black lightning, shadowfire, and shadow-ice coalescing in Khitt’s hands. Black rocks, echoes of obsidian, pried themselves from deep within the monochrome soil, only to begin orbiting around the other 3 elements of the Black Tides. Shadows cloaked Khitt in darkness, painting his face in the guise of a skull, looking very much like Vakmatharas himself. ♫Ever since you were born you've been dying. Every day a little more you've been dying. Dying to reach the setting sun! As a child, with your mind on the horizon. Over corpses, to the prize you kept your eyes on. Trying to be the chosen one!♫

Khitti || Voices thrice rang out, mixing with the bardic energies of Kanna, and Daedria herself and Khitt began to unleash the superfecta of the Black Tides on Caluss, their joined powers keeping the barrier held all the same. ♫All those things that you desire. You will find here in the fire! Put your hands up and reach for the sky! Cry for absolution! You'll be down on your knees and you'll cry! Cry for absolution!♫ Every ounce of their strength was thrown at Caluss, all their rage, all their heartache, all their absolute vengeance. ♫Even now when you're here you are moving, hysterically seeking out what needs improving, and you're still asking for the sun! All those things that you desire! You will find here in the fire! Put your hands up and reach for the sky! Cry for absolution! You'll be down on your knees and you'll cry! Cry for absolution!♫ Khitt would not stop throwing magic until either he, Khitti, and Amarrah or Caluss were dead.

Quintessa holds out the Eye of Caluss before her, threads of influence seeking out any undead still under Alithyk’s control. Then, the moment they had all been waiting for happens, the spark of divinity that had been granted to the godlet is stolen from it, manifested into a beating heart in Lanlan’s hands. Quintessa looks wide eyed for a moment, knowing the significance of such an object, but she quickly gets back to the matter at hand, clutching the artifact in her hands and using it as an arcane focus for her next attack. The thread puppeteering the undead warriors begins to siphon the magic from them, draining them, turning them into powerless husks as she transforms it into raw mana from her attack. Vivid, lime green flames begin to swirl around her first, small orbs that grow in size each time they orbit her body. Next blackened shards of ice join them, tide-locked on the opposite side of the fireballs as the changeling channels her spell. By the time bolts of electricity begin to swirl around her too the undead minions have been turned to dust, nothing left of them, nothing gone to waste. Kanna was first to lay into Caluss, her biting words echoing her own sentiment, but her indignation was quieter, colder. As Kanna screams, Quintessa's attack builds in strength, the might of her triple-elemental attack rising to a crescendo. A wave of her hand sends out a million variants of rays, fire, ice, and lightning, which pepper the entire area, vaporizing some of the rising specter and the chains that dangle from their incorporeal bodies.

Kasyr || As the others present rein in the more chaotic elements of the battlefield, the last of the Kensai's focus finally clicks into place- serving as the advent for the actual bit of spellwork he'd effectively been working on since his arrival. Notably, those blades he'd been carefully conducting finally finish forming the array he'd laid out for them, painfully precise and parallel. It was only then that he drew the sword at his side in one smooth slicing motion- one mirrored by it's myriad mirrored twins. On it's own, it could have been considered a quaint trick, and yet- reality parts before the blades edge, shorn like a cloth in a peculiar kaleidoscope of distorted and interconnected space. A spark bursts into life- a blazing star in his heart that glows with the same radiance that paints the region, trailing off his form familiar cobwebs of static energy."Allons-y!" And then he's moving. To a casual observer, the odds of them detecting this moment is nigh impossible- because when the Kensai lunges through the portal- it's not as an incarnation of nigh literal lacerating lightning, but something pushed even further. Each errant limb or bundle of flesh that seeks to emerge from within the tangle of wood finds itself obliterated, a catacylsm contained within the iota of a moment- repeating itself until the very image of a luminiscence that defies descriptio hangs in the air- and ending with one final cut not meant for the god- but the ground beneath a fallen witch, The kensai falling with her back into perceptible reality, even as the beginning of his blades song finally starts to catch up with the actions it had taken. There's a wry smirk on his face as he catches her, every effort made to plant her on her feet. "We have to stop meeting like this.

Valrae could hear screaming. It was Kanna’s that rose up above the howling of Caluss and the wind, above the noise of a battle. But it was as if she were underwater, all of it muffled to her now. Her world was only pain, even the song and dancing light of Kasyr’s return was registered from some place very far away from herself. She was cold, very cold on the ground. Gravel pressed into her skin, a forgotten annoyance in the wake of the agony that had bloomed from her fall. Something was wrong, she could feel it inside of herself as she rolled from her back to her side. Each breath was a struggle, a lesson in torment. She crawled forward like a babe, moaning with the effort as she pushed forward toward the athame. Power ebbed into her ruined body as her trembling hand closed around it but it wasn’t enough, the witch was too weak to find her feet. Her braid had fallen loose in the madness, her tangled and gore matted hair wiped across her face as she looked up toward the now broken circle. She could see, as much as sense, the world around them breaking apart. The shadows were closing around them, made darker by the spots that danced behind her eyes. The Serpent’s Pass would no longer hold them, it was fading, reaching in to swallow them up by the second and yet… There was nothing left within her. Sorrow rose within her as she realized she would not be able to summon the strength to return them home. The ground beneath them trembles and rocks. Lighting flashes, again and again and Valrae shields her face from the light. Something crashes. The world drops away from her, sending her heart into her throat as she begins to fall, down and down and… There are arms around her. When she opens her eyes, there is Kasyr. He’s smirking at her, and beyond the pain there is blinding, breathless relief. “Are world ending scenarios getting a little too predictable for you?” She replies weakly, smiling as he helps her find her feet. The joy she felt was short lived though, the knowledge that she’d used the blessings of Daedria to return Kasyr only to have them all suffer whatever fate would befall them as the Pass continued to crumble around them served to make the moment a bitter pill.

Lanlan has hardly taken notice of his surroundings since he obtained the cube, obtained Caluss’s spark. The spark of divinity. Part of him wanted to fade into the background, disappear from the attention and eyes of his allies. Part of him -did-, lost in the possibility of granting his own wish. He could do it. As Xalious had before him a millennia ago. He could imbibe this thing and ascend, leave the world of mortals behind, drain the power from this strange plane, and become one with the stars and heavens. Could he imagine it? When he looked into the infinite prism, he could. He could see himself seeing into it, and see himself changing. When he peered into the box, he was peering into his own future. And then he saw his friends beside him, and the plane of existence they stood on. Gradually, the entire plane within the infinite prism was turning white. No, returning to white. To the blank slate of nothingness that it was before Q’na planted this temporal plane on the Serpent’s Pass. But its purpose and existence were rapidly growing obsolete. Lanlan looked out as far as he could. The bleached white sky was much closer than it ever was before. The horizon was too. The forest didn’t look so dense, with all that whiteness coming up so close. Suddenly he reels back, clutching his head with his hands (though being certain not to ever let go of this box), as he heard a strange and startling cacophony of sounds in his head. Yet through the madness of it, he can understand. Not by any ability of his own, but by the will of the one who speaks. He comes to know, that he -can- do it. Just as Xalious did. But if he did that, he would lose all his friends, just as Xalious did. Lost to infinity. If he had the presence of mind to realize that Kasyr was here, then maybe he would accept those consequences. He turns around, to the doorway on the Serpent’s Pass. It’s gone. Almost everything is gone. And soon they will be too. WIth his newfound understanding, he activates one final spell, one so powerful it could only be cast by a god, or one wielding its power. As the ground deteriorates into whiteness, Lanlan unleashes an invisible force that grabs hold of all the living souls and protects them from the ravages of Q’na’s dismissal. They’re all made to blink. Eons pass. When next they open them, they’re home again. In the city of Vailkrin, the city of the dead. For them it will be as if no time had passed at all. They blinked and they were home again, and that was all. Caluss, it might go without saying was no longer. But his memory remained, at least in the minds of those present. Where was the writhing, struggling, putrid filth of a godlet-turned-mortal? Where was its corpse? There was none, but there was a particularly terrible and ugly tree. Somehow, even as a tree it was powerful, as could be known by any in its presence. In a way, it reminded Lanlan of the Xalious Tree, and he could almost imagine what might have created it. Then the thought left him. “We actually did it,” he says, while a brave little smile sneaks across his lips.

Kanna falls to her knees, the surge of adrenaline wearing off with the finality of the thing that was once Alithyk Caluss growing still. The illusioned pattern of her robes that usually bore a bright blue sky of wildflowers, or a romantic sunset over a field of roses were now pitch black. There were no feelings left to pull from its wearer to incorporate into a visual representation. The bardess curls in on herself, holding her hands to her throat, now raw and sore. Kailani kneels next to her, wasting no time to start the process of healing her torn vocal cords with her druidic magic despite the world crumbling to nothing around them. If this were truly the end, then perhaps it was for the best. Kanna could not hurt anyone ever again, and she would go knowing that she was worthy of this final act of kindness. When she opens her eyes again, the grey world littered with gore and swords was gone. The moons were no longer a hideous monochrome, but the crimson and seafoam that Kanna loved. They were really and truly home, and things could finally go back to normal. Kanna looks down at her hands. How many lives had she taken with these hands? How many eternities would she have to serve in Perdere for her crimes? What was normal now that the everpresent fear of Alithyk Caluss was no more? The nomadic bardess that played in taverns for tips for fear of being tied down had long since died. So had the coy scholar who excelled in necromancy and poisons to spite the being that made her undead. Who was she now? No amount of magic would undo the damage that had been done to Kanna’s mind over the past three years, but in time, it would be easier to bear. In a darker corner of Vailkrin, though, where the sources of the crimes of the past cannot be banished away with magic no matter how hard one tries, a compass decorated in alexandrite turns alight, and a woman who has been catatonic from winter to summer looks towards it...

Khitti || Khitt staggered a little as his magic began to fizzle out. Both Amarrah and Khitti were weak as well, but thankfully, everyone’s own onslaughts on the former God of Undeath had done what they came there to do. Thankfully, the shift from Serpent’s Pass back to the “real world” gifted him with a bit more mana in his reserves. He took a moment to look around, eyeing everyone to see who might need healing after that battle (and completely ignoring his own wounds from expelling all that magic), ultimately heading towards Valrae. Kasyr would release her and allow her to stand, and no sooner had she, was Khitt using his light magic to tend to her inner wounds. And once he was finished, he’d finally collapse onto the ground himself, and take a brief catnap before heading into Vailkrin to see just what had befallen it before they’d journeyed into the portal. Yes, Khitt was going to sleep like the dead, amongst the dead.

Kasyr s' smirk barely waned as the world started to wash away into whiteness- an awkward sense of acceptance fluttering in his chest. "...Probably a good thing I just led the way, instead of dragging him with." And yet, when eternity washes over them- it does not simply disperse them like grains of sand into an unforgiving sea. Rather, they float within an instantaneous eternity, only to once more settle upon the shores of a ruthless and everpresent reality. The city greets them, and yet- it is not the same as they left it. Above, the constellations have changed, mirroring the otherworldly nature of his arrival, and the scent of the sea still lingers in the air. And yet, as reassuring as those elements may be- they're overshadowed by the scent of smoke and rot, and the distant sound of fighting. Despite the end of Caluss' influence, the aftermath would likely not be washed away so easily- nor would the damage done within the unexpected blitzkrieg. And yet, before he departs to see what small order he can scrounge together, he does his best to force some semblance of warmth upon an otherwise strained face, "If you need hospitality- I can procure you rooms at the castle. To recuperate." It's a difficult act to maintain in this moment, and he already seems a bit more tired than he had upon arriving. Still, there was some small consolation he could take out of Khitt's quick bit of first aid and- "Oh." Considering the state of things, the Kensai didn't quite feel comfortable just -leaving- the redhead there, which meant they were going to wind up being hefted like a sack of potatos. Valrae would, of course, be afforded an awkward salute on the way out- the swordsman figuring that she'll be too exhausted to question anything currently.

Quintessa had witnessed the demise of her greatest enemy with her own two eyes, contributed to its downfall with own two hands. She was finally free of it, but it hadn’t quite set in yet. The weight of its influence would never again shape her decisions, never would its vile claws dig into her heart. The memories, however, would always persist, but those would be a foe for another time. Now, back under the crimson and green lights of the twin moons, she finally breathes a sigh of relief. Alithyk Caluss was dead. She cracks a smile, a real one. Her destiny was her own again. Quintessa pulls her cloak around her body again, pausing to glance at everyone to make sure they were being tended to, but the changeling cannot help but let her gaze turn into a stare when she finally sees Kasyr. She slowly approaches, her glace appraising Khitti first before returning to him. “Where have you been?” She asks in a deadpan tone. “Nevermind, you can explain it to me later. I think right now we need to see what the damage is in the city.” She motions northward, outside of the graveyard, where very briefly Caluss’s last strike against them took place.

Odhranos ||With the sheer chaos and magic disturbance in Kasyr's wake from the heavens, something faint and imperceptible managed to steal it's way unnoticed, into corporeum. Like some faint fragment of the beyond, it floated like a leaf on the plumes of raw magic still oozing like miasma from the ground. As it floated unobserved, a gentle sense of pride could be felt to any sensitive to such things at the sight of the gathered individuals, before the winds of magic seemed to catch this wisp, and tossed it skyward. Westward.