Hunt the Great Hellwyrm

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Dance

Lox saw Rand leave just as the Knight charged into the circle of eldritch chanting and emancipated what was left of the Leader's soul from the wretch's body.

The Baros and Asana came into the frey. It was getting very heated, very quickly. For some reason, Lox didn't follow the thief, instead holding his ground and pressing himself against the side of that broken pillar.

His mind registered the chattering of many maddening voices, and a few cultured patterns belonging to his party. Oddly, he caught a strange sensation - a reflection of his own thoughts, muffled and strange, and the sound of wind. He was no psychic, and he couldn't understand what caused this.

He didn't have time to ponder, either. Things were getting bad, and for him as well. The Undead Knight by now was merely a pile of armor and dust, but the cultists were massing and in frenzy. Lox's odd eyes narrowed, and his hands tensed against the smooth marble of the pillar - a drooling, lurched form stared at him for a moment from beneath a hood - they saw him! It charged and hissed a sound that might once have been a terrible curse, hefting a large rock in its hands and meaning to kill.

Lox slid around the pillar, launching himself into his semi-float and immediately slipping his cards into his hand. A moment of concentration, not broken as the cultists came at him. He had only a second to spare.

His wrist moved, and his fingers held a card. Which one!?

There was a glow, and a flash. his hands was radiating with a strange light, and the card was wrapped in it. An evocation of forces unknown. Lox felt a shock run up his spine and into his bones, not entirely unpleasant, but disorienting. His eyes blurred.

The cultists screamed in surprise and rage, and thrashed at this Thing with his rock to little avail. A terrible sword sliced the arm that held the rock completely off, but the wretch had little tijme to enjoy that pain before two strokes had splayed his stomach apart, spilled his innards, and then loped his head off. The cultists fell, and two others that had been approaching stepped back and fled.

The image of a great figure, androgynous in features and wrapped in queer, luxurious cloths and armor, stood for a moment. Lox was holding his head and shaking it, a bit disoriented. The figure was immense, with very long blonde hair and blue-tined white eyes. The image of a triangle with a line through it, just below the center flashed on its chestplate. A few odd symbols were inscribed across it in different places, of lanugages unknown to those present. It held two swords, one of an oriental design and one a monstrous Gladius, both inscribed with symbols or letters and glowing faintly of fire, but fire wrapped in an invisible wind. Around this figure, a fierce gale sounded, but little moved in breeze.

then it was gone, and Lox Regardie was recovering himself.

Where was everyone? His sight was evening out.
 
The remaining cultists that fled the Thing, ran right into Baros. He hacked the first down at the thigh, killed the second one with a sword stroke that removed the throat, and then put the now grounded first cultist on the path to the grey lady with a dagger to the heart. He slid it through the man's ribs and was already walking back to the horses as the man died.

"Cento Pyrius" he spoke and his sword's fires went out. Then he sheather it, as well as his dagger and waited by the horses for the others to appear. All of the cultists were now dead, apart from the one taken prisoner, which Baros was yet to learn of. The bound cultist was silent, and would no doubt take a good deal of persuasion in order to extract information from.
 
Asanas eyes narrowed as the spell left him he had hoped to avoid hitting their new friend however it seemed fate did not offer the luxury of a clear conscience. Watching the Knight fall Asana's knees gave out. He had killed someone who was not preforming an evil deed nor made to bare an evil will. Had Asana known or noticed it was a zombie he would have felt better.

Swallowing hard as he saw a creature appear that seemed as pleased as pie to utterly render a cultist asunder. He had almost hoped it was Tyrs divine justice come to punish him for killing an ally in battle. As the creature seemed done with its business with the cultist Asana watched as the other two cultists seemed to run straight for Baros. It was not hard to see that Baros was far more gifted than the cultists in fighting prowess, and weaponry. As the last two fell Asanas eyes were tempted to look at the knight he had killed, but they averted their gaze of their own fruition.

There was little that Asana could do for the man other than offer a prayer in his name, but he did not know the mans Name. Nor did he think he would find ground for miles around he could dig into where he could bury the knight. Sheathing his blades Asana stood slowly, his steps wobbly as if he had far to much to drink. He strode slowly towards the mans armor not noticing the man had turned to ash.

He did not look upon what he had done his disgust with himself and his carelessness let alone the sin he bared now were enough to make him feel sick. He knew looking upon the face of the man he killed in cold blood would only make him feel worse. Kneeling down at what would have been the mans side his eyes tightly shut he began to pray.
 
Not all Evil?

Dead, dying, they're all dead!

Not all the cultists were fanatics intent on besting steel and magic with their bare hands, or even intent on killing anyone at all! At least one of them had panicked, off in a corner of the temple, curled up and desperately trying to make sense of the chaos surrounding him. Then the thing showed up, and everyone else who ran from it was torn apart by Baros, finally he was alone.

No, the "good guys" managed to avoid slaughtering one man in favor of subduing and binding him, for whatever good that would do the poor man, probably fated to be tortured until they realized what a fanatic he really was. Not like Joshua, scared little Joshua, barely old enough to grow a beard, but old enough to risk his life for someone.

Right about now someone should be noticing him, he hadn't any idea what their names were, only that any of them could, and would, kill him without a second thought. So he'd better get the message across quick, he shouts what seems like a single word, "NODON'TKILLMEI'MNOTONEOFTHEM!"
 
Baros turned quickly as the man called out from the ruined shell of the temple. One hand went immediately over his shoulder to the hilt of his sword. The other he held out before him with fingers spread, ready to activate the shield spell held within one of his sword's crystal spell batteries.

He refrained from casting the spell, then drew his sword and walked cautiously back into the temple. The first thing that caught his eye was Asana crouched over the body of the knight, then he shook his head and scanned the temple's shadows and corners for the source of the voice.

"Show yourself. If you are armed place your weapon on the ground. So long as you do exactly as I say you will not be harmed."
 
From where he stood, a daggers-throw from the entrance to the gutted temple, Rand had a fairly clear view of what was going on inside. He had briefly considered baring his own blade and joining Baros and Asana, but he'd seen enough fighting men to know that the two of them could comfortably handle the small clutch of obsessed cultists. All he'd do if he went in there waving his sword about is risk getting something vital chopped off or stabbed.

He'd jumped slightly, and reflexively tightened his grip on his two throwing knives as the armour-clad fellow had barged into the fray, yelling like a man possessed and laying about him with a bloody great sword, I'd have been right in his way if I'd gone in there! Cultists fell, lightning sparked, and blood was spilled. Rand watched the small yet intense battle closely, lest one of his new-found allies should find themselves in need of a dagger from the dark.

In fact, he watched the battle so intently, that he missed the sneaking cultist that closed with Aramil until the moment before the horse noticed him. As the horse reared, Rands hand snapped out, the blade leaving his hand and streaking through the space occupied by the cultists head a mere moment before. The silver knife clattered to the floor after chipping burned stonework, it's blade blood free. The horses flashing hooves had saved the cultist from a terminal sore throat. Damn bloody horse!

As Rand approached the fallen cultist, Aramil was already binding him with a strong rope pulled from his saddlebags. Stepping around the fallen man and his aged captor, Rand retrieved his blade, tsking angrily at the blunted tip, and turned as Aramil re-mounted his horse, again with a litany of curses and grunts. Rand dragged the cultist into a sitting position against the grimy, soot-streaked wall, and quickly searched him - he was a thief, after all.

Aside from a hide sheath for the dagger he'd intended to use on Aramil - which Rand recovered, slipping the blade away and tucking it inside his coat - the cultists carried little of value. Looking up from the unconscious man, Rand grinned at Aramil "I'll wager no-one in there thought to capture a prisoner. Nicely done Aramil".

Rand stood sharply at a shout from inside. He frowned as he moved to a position where he could see into the temple again. That didn't sound like a cultist. That sounded... "Afraid." he muttered, as Baros called out the mystery voice in hiding.
 
"I'm.. I'm unarmed!" Joshua half-whispered, half-screamed right before he started crawling out of his little hiding place. On his hands and knees so they won't think he's a threat, and because he's not sure he'd be able to stand up right now without fainting dead away. Why did I have to think about it using the word 'dead'?

He certainly looks like a cultist, wearing that bizarre wardrobe cultists tend to be clothed in. All their faces must have been interchangable up until now, just locals who're a little crazier than normal, decent folk. Once he's within view, he starts off again, a little stronger this time, finally confident he's not going to just be cut down without a second thought. So confident it seems, that he just starts babbling, "Thank you, thank you, I'm Joshua, from the village, I came here, I joined the cult here because they took my Lia away, I came to find her! She's not here, not that I could find, it's only been a day since I got here, they hadn't even given me the initiation yet, I don't know what they were doing, or where they took her, did you find her?! While you were here killing all the rest of them?" - I'm assuming by now, someone will have cut the poor man off.
 
The Screams of Joshua had roused Asana's mind from his prayer. Finishing it quickly and standing slowly he turned looking to where the voice had come from. It was Obvious the boy was terrified, and with the carnage that had been spilled in this once hallowed ground it was not hard to understand why. Letting out a long breath he looked to Baros and then to Joshua. Who had slowly began to move out from his hiding place.

Asana looked at Baros a moment before he spoke " Be easy on him for the moment, I'll go check on our compatriots and make sure they are not injured. " Slowly walking around behind Baros he made his way towards the exit of the ruined temple. His eyes first going to Rand, and then moving around to find the old man still mounted. For a moment all seemed fine to Asana till he saw another with Rand and Aramil, and it was bound. A Cultist had made it outside! Somehow the old man had subdued the cultist however.

Speaking a loud enough to Aramil and Rand to here him he said " Nice work guys, we have someone inside who seems rather afraid, although I cannot hold fault on him for being afraid. " He seemed to stop a moment before he looked up to Rand again " Rand could you go in there and help Baros check the bodies of the deceased for any kind of scrolls or hint as to what they were up to, because I fear that our unconscious friend there may try to sever his own tongue when he comes too.

Asanas face was marred with a look of guilt, anyone could plainly see it and he knew it. Kneeling down he pulled his pack from his back and started to sort through a few items before pulling out his helm, the face guard was silver with a red trim, but the back and top of the helm was black as the evening sky in the void between stars. Slipping it on he felt a little better. Knowing his expressions would be hidden from his companions.
 
Finally having mounted his horse, he heard Rand approach and brought the horse around slowly. Hearing the words, the old man actually chuckled softly beneath his heavy-set hood. The amusement in his voice marked the most jovial expression since he joined the party. "I can't say that it was entirely intentional. Had it not been for this stubborn old horse, his stubborn old rider would probably be little more than a corpse, now." After a momentary pause he added with some thought; "With any luck, he will be able to provide us with some insight. And if not..."

It was at that moment that Asana had walked out of the rubble and the old man drifted off, though it was clear his implication. He simply nodded when Asana spoke, beneath the hood, is gaze fixed on the unconscious man. He was tempted to wake him and begin questioning the fellow, but decided against it, instead opting to see how and when the others might like to handle the captured cultist. Finally, when Asana fell quiet, he commented briefly toward Rand, "With any luck, you'll find something of material worth upon them as well. This little expedition of ours certainly won't be light on the purse."

The moment Rand had departed, Aramil would turn to Asana, his face still shrouded deep beneath his own hood. His gaze fixed briefly upon the Elf, before, a cryptic smirk crossing his lips at the sight of his helm. Finally, his voice, surprisingly softened of its old age rose from the hood; "It was no fault of yours..." A simple, though meaningful comment. And then he fell silent, his body swaying slightly to the right, having apparently fallen asleep in the saddle. A heavy snore confirming what his body language hinted at shortly thereafter.
 
Baros crouched down next to the nearest cultist body. He kept his right hand upon the hilt of his sword, ready to strike at the prisoner should he so much as breathe too loudly. With his other hand he began to search the body. There was nothing concealed in the robe, other than a wooden symbol hanging from a string around the man's neck. Baros pulled the symbol free, causing the string to break, and held it up. The symbol was roughly carved into the shape of a wooden disc, with a snake scratched onto each face. The man he was searching was unarmed, but there were several piles of weapons around the outside of the ruined temple. When Asana and himself had charged, the cultists had went to their weapons, but many had been too slow.
 
Blasphemous Wonderings.

(Sorry for the absence again, and thank ye Mithrandiir...for the darling reminder! Back again. Lovely...)

Lox Regardie had cleared his head, and he heard many sounds about him as his vision shifted too and fro; dying, screaming, a boy yelling for mercy. Finally, he regained himself, and he realized he was nearby the back of the makeshift temple. He had not remembered moving. Blood soaked his boots, and they were sticky in step. A body shifted into view. The cult leader? The body of the fallen knight was nearby, but this didn't interest him. There was something on the man's neck, and he was surprised he saw it.

His hand wrapped around the neck of the dead Cultist, and he noticed the strange...scaliness of several peculiar ridges along the man's spine and shoulder blades. Then he jumped back and shouted in shock as the ridges moved! They moved and then dprung off of the flesh, the sound of tearing tendons vocal in his ears. Regardie stepped back in time to see an oddly colored snakelike thing detach itself from the corpse and slither away underneath the altar.

Lox held back a cough of disgust and turned to his fellows. A few steps and he had caught up, but he didn't immedietly mention that disturbing thing - if he sees the pendant retrieve, he might. What kind of blasphemy were these creatures worshipping.

He neared the now-sleeping old man and the others, and noticed the boy. Regardie's eye twitched slightly in wonder, but he did not address him. He remained quiet.
 
Asans heart lifted for a moment as he heard the old mans words. Even though the words were kind the wound did not seem to close, but it had at least lessened its sting. Asana was about to reply when he heard the old man starting to snore. "crafty as a gnome, as shrewed as a goblin, and kind as an elf" He said with a smirk as he pulled his helm down and secured it to his armor under the wizened robes he wore.

As Asanas hands slid over the hilts of his rapiers his memory seemed to react calling forth the moments that lead to the spell killing the new commer, a man whom had great courage. Snapping his fists closed he opened his eyes looking intently at anything to keep his mind from wandering back to the thought. His breathing became ragged as he started to move towards in inside of the temple. In an instant had he not been staring intently into the temple he would have missed it something had fled towards the alter.

Following the direction from whence the creature came his eyes fell on Lox. " Was that something that you conjured up ? " He asked as he pointed towards the alter. Curiosity seemed to be a key concern for the elf now it was one more thing to keep him from paying attention to his misdeeed.
 
Rand grimaced as Asana asked him to check the dead, but he supposed it did make sense. Who better to find hidden trinkets on a person than a thief? A damn good thief too, if I may be so bold!. He smiled up at Aramil when the old man suggested there may be more than blood and scrolls to find. He was right in his suggestion that their current undertaking would not be light on their purses. For a start, Rand intended on getting himself a decent mount at the earliest available opportunity, and given his current company - especially that damn spellsword - procuring one with his useal discount would not be advisable.

He headed into the temple in time to see Baros also starting the grisly work of searching the dead. With a deft twist of his wrist, Rand held one of his knives in his hand again, light glinting along it's edge. Just because the fellow he was searching had his guts strewn across the floor was no reason to assume he was going to take it lying down. He was a cultist after all.

He cast a glance over at the boy cowering on the floor, wondering what they were to do with him. They could hardly leave him here in this blighted town on his own, ready to be snapped-up by the next group of crazed fanatics doing the rounds. But then, could they really take him with them? Regardless of how he crawled and simpered now, he had been - possibly still was - a member of this cult that liked slaughtering innocent women.

With a sigh, Rand turned back to the dirty job at hand, rifling through the dead cultists clothes, serching for anything of any value.

*OOC: Any chance ol' Rand is gonna find anything worth half-inching?*
 
Free Haven. She'd heard of it, but now to see it as she sat atop her steed on the outskirts, she felt disappointment. What lay before her was a city in ruins and the stench was enough to make a weak stomached individual wretch. Zeus, a large white war horse, pranced back and forth uneasily as he too scented the air. Death and decay was strong. He did not like it. " Easy friend. " Came the reassuring voice as she leaned forward and patted the side of his neck. He settled slightly, but nickered his displeasure.

With a soft kick to his flanks, the woman rider urged her mount forward. A long, billowing cloak covered her slender body, and draped over the back of the large horse in a dark crimson color. The hood, pulled up, covered her head and kept her identity hidden as now, they made their way through the ruined city. Across her lap, a large sword rested, her right hand resting at it's center. She rode with no reins, no saddle, her steed having no need for such things. Her back set straight, she sat tall upon the large animal.

Zeus chose his steps carefully, and his rider looked to the bodies that lay about. Her head shook slightly as the tried to imagine what could have caused such as this. Certainly wasn't her work. She laughed lightly at that, but then again, she could be rather morbid. As they rounded a corner, they came to a building that seemed a bit more intact than the rest. Leaning back just slightly, Zeus came to a halt. With a soft cluck of her tongue, he began to drop onto his front knees, as if bowing.

Sliding off his back, sword in tow, she patted his shoulder as he straightened up. Stepped out from beside him, she now stood looking about at those that were outside the temple. Delicately, a hand moved up to push back the hood of her cloak, releasing long, chocolate kissed hair. That same hand lifted her hair out of the confines of the cloak rebellious curls around her waist. Placing her sword atop her shoulder, the cloaked woman moved towards the group, eyeing each and every one with violet eyes that sparkled like a polished stone. A curt nod was all she gave as she moved towards the entrance of the temple. Zeus, remained where he was and just before she would step into the temple, the steed reared up and whinnied loudly before his hooves came thundering back down to the bloodied earth. Turning, she looked to her companion, smiled and entered the temple.
 
The elder dragon known as Fang had disappeared from the banished world of Bakarne. Not that anyone would have noticed, as he had not been in view of very many creatures, in the first place. Even those who had noticed his presence didn't come in direct contact with him. So, when he managed to finish exploiting the loophole to the disruption field that had been placed around the city, and transport himself out, it would go unnoticed. Granted, eventually someone may catch on to the trace signatures of energy left behind, but it was unlikely.

Fang had intended on remaining amongst the trapped inhabitants of Bakarne. He was, after all, the neutral entity amongst the Elder Council. As such, he had to maintain a balance throughout many worlds. What had happened to Bakarne was worth fighting against. However, when the Hellwyrm was unleashed, Fang, as an elder, immediately knew it, and easily identified the greater of the two threats to The Balance.

By the time Fang arrived in the area around Freehaven, things had already gotten well underway. But, if he was going to be of any use at all, he would need to catch up with those taking an active role in opposing this menacing threat. Brave they may have been, and strong amongst their own people, as well, but they had no clue what they had gotten themselves into. They would need the help of the Elder Council.
 
Baros heard footfalls coming from the temple's entrance, and turned to see yet another newcomer enter the temple. He considered the woman for a moment and then decided that if she were a threat, then she would likely not have walked so openly into the middle of the temple. If he was wrong then that amount of bravado likely signalled that this newcomer was capable of defeating all of them.

"Greetings stranger. As you can see you have found my companions an I in less than normal circumstances. I am Baros of the Order of the Burning Blade. What brings you to this funeral pire?"
 
With all the clamour of checking bodies and new arrivals, the weary old traveler was not one to draw attention to himself. Asleep in the saddle, it should be no surprise. The journey was not a short one, and he was old. It would eventually take its toll on his body, leaving him weary and in need of a good rest. In these lulls in the action, he was content to take advantage of the opportunity to re-energize himself for the next leg of their no doubt perillous journey.

Though the odd spasmic twitching of the withered old body, visible even beneath the thick robes he wore, hinted at an uneasy sleep. He would wake when needed, but for the moment his weary old body would accept what little accomodation it was afforded, despite the tremors of a no doubt, haunted mind.
 
Lox glanced at Asanas and sjhook his head, "That was none of my work. In fact, I don't know exactly what it was, save that it was evidently alive and serpentine. I know not the workings of this miserable cult, but some of the clues point to a similarity with a certain horrific, long extinct cult that used to be active in the far south. I am from those areas, and the legends are well known among those in my profession."

Lox found his train of thought interrupted at the arrival of the menacing woman on the horse. He didn't think to much into her, being a man of empathy and not judging on initial impressions. Still, she didn't look the type to arrive in smiles and bells, and Lox could not get the impression of a stinging insect out of his mind as she neared.

He ran a hand through the white strands of hair that tickeld the sides of his face and looked at the Paladin. The area was draining his mental stamina - it was profaned by whatever did this - he figured the Paladin was even worse for wear.

"What does this gathering amount to, my Elven friend? Whatever did this is no longer here - and I know how grim it looks, but I know your creed will not allow you to rest until you attempt to do something about it. My own set of morals allows for a bit more freedom of decision but still carries the same drive to do Good...", Lox narrowed his eyes. He liked the Paladin. It wasn't common in the world for people to be genuinely good-hearted.

"Do you think whatever did this is really connected with this Cult? They don't seem to have the resources to do this, or the need. I'd suggest they were more a group of scavengers, drawn to use the profanity inbued into this doomed land as fodder for their depraved rituals..."
 
Enter the Guardian

Ayenee, the realm in which he was born and lived for so many centuries, seemed to be plagued with problems for as long as he could remember. Some guardians were permanently assigned to this one realm, simply because of the frequency of world-shifting events. No other realm that he knew of had affected the worlds around it, and even more distant worlds, so drastically, and on so many occasions. Why was it, that this one realm, tucked away in the far end of existence, with no particularly special external influences or attention grabbing features, was such a magnet for multi-universal trouble? That was a mystery that would likely go unanswered. Still, the fact remained that it was a target of such incidents, and another one was starting up.

Fang stayed in midair as he scanned the area around where Freehaven once was. There was no denying that the energy used to cause the destruction of the tow, while partially Hellish in origin, carried a heavy tint of a draconic signature. Most creatures, even many of those able to detect energies, wouldn’t be able to sense the draconian flavor of some of the power amidst all the chaotic taint. But Fang was an elder dragon, and the balancing point amongst the Elder Council, at that. While not the most powerful, by any means, he was the most commonly seen on most worlds, as well as the only current elder with a combination of backgrounds. If it involved a dragon, or anything similar to one, he could tell.

This being the case, and because of the great amount of confusion he could feel permeating the air, Fang decided it would be best to take to his human form. The last thing he needed was to be mistaken for the dragon that did this. That would only add to a difficult situation. So, the massive black dragon halfbreed landed silently and changed forms. He knew where the few living creatures were. It seemed they all congregated in one area. That would make it easy to find them. Considering the amount and type of destruction that had been dealt to this place, it was almost guaranteed that the beings were all outsiders, though he supposed it would be possible for the right types of wards to protect someone from this type of devastation, if they were fully set up ahead of time. Still, he knew at least some had to be outsiders. There were simply too many of them for that to be untrue. The impact of this event had reached him in a magically guarded and banished city on another plane. Surely some within Ayenee would have felt it and been drawn to the area. Now the question was, why were they drawn to it? With this in mind, Fang began his approach to those who were here. Ready for anything, and constantly aware, his glowing red eyes scanned the short trail left behind by the Hellwyrm when it departed the area. It wasn’t long enough for him to track the entire path, but at least he knew which direction it went. That would be useful later. He made a note of it as he entered the remains of the temple.
 
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