EVENT #6: BY HEAVEN OR HELL (WRAP-UP)

[aionmods]

By Heaven or Hell

THE SNARE (cw: gore)

Above Achamoth, blow after brutal blow is rained down upon the Sanctifier. It's fiery wings have been drowned by the abyssal waters of Childe's corrupted voyager, and its chest torn open by the Regent's power. Though it tries to flee, it is assailed from all sides, tearing away scales and burning flesh, its eyes blinded with blood and infection. Even its roar has been torn, the damage to its throat leaving its thundering voice strangled and broken. As Childe's lance drives through the top of its skull and out the bottom of its jaw, it seems that its demise must be imminent.

Yet, this is a creature of the Pleroma. Fueled by a force that fights for life at all costs, the Sanctifier is denied an easy rest. Fitting, perhaps, that its host refuse just as vehemently. Within this ravaged body, Estinien Wyrmblood still struggles, even as each breath is choked by blood and blinding pain. He refuses. He's not ready to be mourned. He's not ready for the fight to end. Himeka, Abel, Hayame... he'd told them... he'd told them he would stay by their side...

On faltering wings, the Sanctifier makes a final effort. The Pleroma responds to Estinien's resolve, and the fire within it ignites in a desperate burst, driving it to escape this city and defend its comrades. Estinien will feel his soul seared with the intensity of his wish, burning him up in the overwhelming light of this undying sun. All the while, the power of the Innocence holds his spirit close, as if hoping to shield him from what is to come. It pleads with him to relent, as it knows this course, and he will not return the same.

With that surge of light, it seem for a moment that the Sanctifier may actually accomplish it, that its wings might ferry it away from the shadows that bite at its heels. However, it's not to be. Not with the trap that's been set, but he Kenoma and their master.

Darkness swells at six points around the city. Six void-dark spears, deposited by the Regent's most trusted followers, activate as the Regent aims their final shot. Six rays of the abyss pierce Achamoth's sky, each one piercing through the Sanctifier's core, stopping its desperate effort before it can truly begin. Though the bolts of darkness seem to stretch for for miles at first, gradually the blur of shadow fades, resolving in the great dragon's body run through by spikes of purest Kenoma. The Sanctifier crumbles, the light of its form dissolving, one last broken cry of agony escaping.

The arrangement of spears holds true with the shift of its form, and as the light of the Pleroma leaves him, instead there is only Estinien. Instead of a colossal dragon, one man bears the wounds of the Sanctifier, his torso ravaged by the spears piercing it and the Regent's power, held in place despite the futile twitches of his battered wings. Just as the Sanctifier was missing a claw, he is missing a finger, and blood pours from his forehead where a lance just was, down through the bottom of his mouth. Ichor drains from one brutalized eye, the other opened wide with shock despite its visible pains.

Estinien tries to speak, but cannot. His hands struggle to pry a spear free from his chest, but he finds no purchase. His broken body hangs above the city for several seconds, as if on display, before an orb of void envelopes him and he disappears.

A FINAL BENISON

After the agonizing end of the Sanctifier, the presence of the Innocence will linger around the spirits of the Pleroma for a short time, as if allowed to disperse in the absence of the creature it was sustaining. There is a mournful weight to its essence, and softly, the Pleroma will hear it speak:

I failed... I have failed you... Again...

The presence is already beginning to fade, but those already touched by the Innocence will feel its power flare up within them, like a new candle lit from one almost burned to its end.

Please... do not despair... continue on... and find the peace I could not give you...

With that it goes silent, disappearing along with its host.

[OOC: Several characters will be receiving PMs regarding this.]

REGENT'S REPRISAL

The protective light of the Sanctifier fades, and the Pleroma will find themselves prematurely awash in a furious Achamoth, their enemies having multiplied from from a mere two dozen Aions to hundreds, if not thousands of Horosians. The military, having been rendered helpless for most of this struggle, are eager to pick up the slack, firing with what offensive magic they hold and alchemy enhanced weaponry. Even civilians, furious and humiliated by what they perceive as Pleroma tricks, will begin to lash out, throwing what improvised weapons they might have and shouting abuse; anything to help destroy these invaders.

The shadows of the city, having been swelling since the beginning of the Sanctifier's fall, will seem to chase the Pleroma through the streets. Like violent ghosts, specters of darkness pursue them, lashing out with intangible claws that feel like shocks of cold torment. Sometime, they may even land small physical blows, like claw marks and bruises left by unseen spirits. These malformed spirits shriek with suffering and discontent, but only Aions seem to perceive them. Those with Tier 2 attunements will have the clearest gaze of ethereal forms, like the wretched, half remembered remains of people and creatures long past.

FROM THE SKIES

As the void swallows Estinien, Seekers & Visionaries of both sects are hit with a series of images flashing through their mind; thick green forests, a tall mountain sitting apart, a golden eye barely concealed by smoke. Red scaled lids close once only to sharply pull back as the eye widens swallows all around it. The vision fades in an instant.

A chorus of unfamiliar roars and screeches echo across the Citadel. Where one dragon once stood, dozens now swarm the air above the gathered Aions. These dragons appear in all sizes and patterns, some with scales hardened like wood or stone while others appear feathered and nearly birdlike. Any Pleroma who have spent time in Greentruth may recognize the shapes as shadows that have passed in the canopy overhead even if they have not crossed the paths of these dragons before. Reinforcements.

A little too late.

The dragons descend upon the Citadel led by a familiar figure; Tehri of the Deep Mists rides atop one of the largest of the dragons as they all come to land on the stony ground at the Pleroma front. They will provide cover for those looking to leave the battlefield and a flight back to Greentruth. If there are Pleroma who are staying to fight longer, a few dragons will wait around the edges until all battles have ceased. They are only dragons, so they could come under fire by the Kenoma should attacks be made.

Tehri stays on the largest dragon as it rears its head above the siege of the ire of the dead. She stands tall atop it, extending her arms as a cool blow envelopes her hands. A rush of cold air pushes forth as a thick mist forms in the courtyard, obscuring vision for all but a few feet in front any person. The Regent's malformed spirits are left confused and without direction, but will attack any Pleroma they do manage to find. The mists linger for several hours after the last Pleroma has fled Achamoth.

WRAP-UP

Returned to their homes of choice, each Aion will be free to recover and carry on with their daily affairs. Word of the assault on Achamoth gradually spreads across Horos, prompting startled reactions its populace. Has the Pleroma truly been so brazen? Had the dragon in the sky truly been as grand as they say? Had the dragon of the wood truly answered in turn? The raid will eventually be a hot topic of discussion in every corner of the continent, though there were few non-Achamite eye witnesses. It can be expected that the details will be exaggerated, understated, and misunderstood wildly.

❖ IMPORTANT NOTES

◆ REGENT'S RESPONSE: After the Pleroma have left the city, the Kenoma will receive a communion from the Regent whether or not their shards are exposed. Their multi-toned voice will express contentment with the outcome of the struggle, explaining that they have successfully captured the Innocence and its host. With this link to its power claimed, they have what they need to end its threat. Kenoma will be welcomed to join them in their throne room to see this done a few days after the battle, but attendance is not mandatory. There will be a short NPC log posted to cover this, though we will warn that the Innocence's 'execution' will be fairly gruesome, so if you have a more uncertain Kenoma whom you don't want to scare off the path, it may be best to not have them attend.

◆ DRAGONS ENGAGED: As the majority of the PVP and PVE finishes up, there are dragon NPCs available to battle against at your discretion. We will not thread these battles, but if any Kenoma would like to try to take out one of the dragons, they can reply below and we will do a mod roll for their success. Any killed dragons may be dealt with as desired in Achamoth. There won't be a Kenoma knock out mechanic for this, unless players specifically want to be mangled by a dragon.

◆ STATE OF ACHAMOTH: Achamoth managed to avoid any irreparable mass destruction as a result of the raid, though there were some 'presumably Pleroma' assaults on civilian infrastructure that will be highly talked about in coming weeks, including the looting of a few houses, attempted arson of a church, and the attempted destruction of a factory. While the Sanctifier was not purposely attacking Achamite civilians, its battle with the Kenoma did result in some casualties among both the military and civilian population, while other soldiers were slain by the Pleroma on the ground. (Or, in one case, one of the Kenoma?) Multiple watchtowers were destroyed by the dragon's throes. In general, Achamoth is furious about this, and more hateful towards the Pleroma than ever.

◆ RECONVENING IN GREENTRUTH: Once back in Greentruth, Tehri will send a communion to all the Pleroma and ask them to attend, if they can, the first Aion Council meeting in early Sekiseri. She encourages all to take the time to heal both physically and mentally in the days to come. The council meeting Tehri is requesting will take place in September. This will be offered as part of a mini-event log where characters will be able to discuss with one another and speak with Tehri directly.

◆ VALLEY OF THE INNOCENT: Any Aions passing through the Innocent's Shrine will notice that, following the Innocence's 'execution', the once lush valley's plant-life is starting to die off in what is clearly a non-seasonal manner. Locals will say that the valley is generally in a state of eternal spring, and this is the first time they've seen it suffer like this. The death of the flora here is not complete or immediate, but it is devastating considering the valley's former state of perfection.

◆ SEKISERI: There will be no game-wide event in September, but there will be some NPC activity of various flavors. Players will be free to plot their own activities as they will.

Comments

CW: Eye Trauma

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya attempts to brace himself, the only thing he can seem to pull the focus together to do as blinding pain clouds his head.

As Howl finally stops, Syrlya breathes in a ragged gasp. His head tilts enough to see Barnaby, but he's a... distant concern, to getting out of Howl's grip.

He clenches his jaw, adjusting his grip on his blade and looks back up at Howl--straight into his eye. There's a flash of determination in his eyes, and he pushes through every ache to muster as much strength as he can to thrust his sword straight into Howl's eye. The tip angles up, trying to dig it all the way to his brain.]

cw: eye trauma, extreme injury, death

[galdorleod]

[ This time, the sword finds its mark. Ichor explodes from behind the curtain of feathers that fall around Howl's bestial face, a mix of fluid from both his eye and his skull. Collapsed as he already was, the blow is accompanied by no cry of pain or final clamp of his jaws. He simply goes still.

For a few moments, Howl's transformed body is nothing but that: a body. There is ample time for Syrlya to free himself from Howl's jaws and for Bunny to come running, a minute too late to save his friend. But then, suddenly, the feathers covering Howl's body shed and break away into millions of light, airy fragments and swirl into nothingness, as if swept up in a ghostly wind blowing against nothing but the dead wizard. As the transformation spell dissolves, the human that was buried underneath it is left behind — battered, burnt, and covered in deep puncture wounds from arrows, one of which is clearly still embedded in one shoulder blade, where a broken arrow shaft is emerging from the wound.

It is clear now that the fatal wound was, to some extent, overkill. Howl's empty socket oozes a mix of blood and plasma, but the gash drawn by Syrlya's sword traces from Howl's ear to the knob of his throat. This wound alone would have killed him, but even Howl would admit that when a monster has its teeth in you, no strike is overkill until it lets go.

Once every feather has faded away, Howl's body starts to blacken and fade. The smoke that rises as his body dissipates mixed into the mist blanketing the city. All that remains is his blue-grey Shard and the half-dozen arrow heads that were embedded in his flesh. ]

[hundredpower]

[There's no worse feeling for a hero than arriving at a scene too late to save someone. Barnaby moves, willing himself to get between them, to wrench the blade out of Syrlya's hands, something, but even with his abilities he's too slow, and the blade strikes true.

He stops and watches in muted horror as the feathers break away and dissolve, leaving the much smaller wizard behind, the extent of his injuries, the way he had been put down like he was nothing more than a feral animal, leaving behind nothing more than a broken body, and finally, finally, after what feels like an eternity but was really no more than a matter of seconds, a shard.

Barnaby sees red. There's no rational thought in that moment that Syrlya had acted in self-defence, that it was him or Howl. All he cares about is that Howl is dead because of him, and now, at all costs, he has to protect his shard.]

You... [He stares at the sylvari, trembling hands balling into fists. The Kenoma inside him flares in a burning surge of hatred, now firmly directed at the one before him.] HOW DARE YOU?!

[He charges at Syrlya, using his enhanced speed and strength to kick him in the head as hard as he can. He wants to get him away from what's left of Howl, he wants to beat him senseless and vent his fury, he wants to kill him.]

[chronosynthesis]

[The angle is a bit hard to pull out, but it turns out that, and trying to wrench himself free, isn't necessary.

Howl's form sinks and then, in a flurry of feathers, shrinks to that of a man. Syrlya hits the ground with a faint thud and a heave of relief, rolling over slightly to prop himself on his elbow as he looks at Howl. The way he dissipates is only a surprise in that Syrlya has never witnessed it before.

He doesn't have a lot of time to contemplate it, at Barnaby's agonized scream echoes and he turns his attention up--and sees him charging. Syrlya twists, leaning back slightly and bringing his sword arm up to take the blow instead of his head--and it's lucky he does because the hit itself is enough to shatter the wood bone on impact, and force a deep tear from the pressure through his flesh. That is not what he expected from that kick.

He screams in pain, acting on instinct as he teleports himself backwards, farther away from Barnaby. His arm hits the ground limply and he drops his shield to try and push himself up to his knees. He doesn't--this isn't enough time to recover. He can't die here.

Squinting he holds his hand out, drawing up a gravity well so that the edge is under Barnaby's feet--it only takes a second for it to get a grip, and then the magic will draw him in--try to yank him off his feet to the ground, then float his body up in the air and slam it back down. He has no idea how durable Barnaby's powers make him, but he hopes it's enough to allow him to get back on his feet.]

[hundredpower]

[Barnaby's powers are useless with no way to escape from the gravity well, so he's lifted up and slammed into the ground, Eustace's rifle slipping loose from its holster on his back and clattering across the ground from the impact. Barnaby barely notices though, letting out an agonised sound as the force of the hit makes the still-healing stab wound in his torso flare up. While his powers give extra resistance to attack, they can't compensate for wounds already there, only try to mend them faster while his power is active.

So he remains doubled over for a moment, clutching his abdomen just below the ribs as he pushes himself onto his hands and knees, glaring at Syrlya.]

Howl's already suffered enough! And yet you... [He coughs up blood, spitting it onto the paving, before getting unsteadily back to his feet.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Whatever Barnaby says is ultimatley lost on Syrlya. He's dizzy, and focusing desperately on just a way to survive.

--The gun. He lifts his head, narrowing his eyes to focus on the ground behind Barnaby. Just--if he can just pull together a little more magic...

He teleports, still hunched over the ground as he's behind Barnaby in a flash. He lunges for the weapon with his left hand, dragging it as he staggers to his knees. He a heavy breath, he shifts his hand to put the finger on the trigger and lifts it up with a shaky arm. His gaze tracks Barnaby as he stands up, and purple light swirls in concentration around the end of the barrel.

As it fires, it isn't from Syrlya pulling the trigger. It's raw magic that shoots forward just as fast as a bullet. The actual strike of it won't puncture, it won't even bruise, but the magic creates an echo of pain as if he had been struck with the force to daze him.

It also still causes a pushback in the rifle, the force causing Syrlya to twist and topple back to the ground as it jerks back and dislocates his shoulder.

Well, ow. But it's enough time to stop Barnaby from turning around as Syrlya holds his breath and draws on all of his waning strength to pull a veil of invisibility around himself.]