The Loss of Niuri

Moirean

I missed some of the start of this. Also edited out a lot of the talk between individuals, random chatter, etc, so sorry if something you did got cut out!

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The evening sky is subtly split by the gathering of uneasy, shadowed clouds above the Siroccian mountains, their churning depths lit with unearthly radiance.

(Spinesreach): You say, "What was THAT?"

(Spinesreach): Piper says, "Huh?"

(Spinesreach): You say, "Bunch of shadows down in the Siroccians."

(Spinesreach): You say, "Oh, maybe that was the Ultraist? She has a connection to the Court, there..."

(Spinesreach): Piper says, "Huh, couldn't tell you. My office window ain't easy to see through nowadays."

Taygeta tells you, "The Ultraist is in the Court, but I feel very overwhelmed in the presence of the Divine."

You tell Taygeta, "Thank you for letting me know."

The sky above ripples as though a searing heat has passed through it, distorting and twisting as the multitude of chaotic voices belonging to Niuri rip through the land, "The time has come, Brothers, Sisters, to witness. No more will I be Your whipping girl, Your laughing stock and tool to be discarded. Never again."

Taygeta tells you, "Not sure if I should linger in Her presence, but something seems to have happened. I glanced into the room and saw glyphys and whatnot."

Arbre's voice resonates across the land, "Perhaps if You treated Your followers better You would not get ditched when we go play in the trees."

You have emoted: Moirean glances upwards, frowning. "Seems there's a Divine storm brewing," she comments with a frown.

Joau says, "Divine storm....that does not sound good."

The sky above ripples as though a searing heat has passed through it, distorting and twisting as the multitude of chaotic voices belonging to Niuri rip through the land, "Distract Me not with your howling, fickle little wolf. Will You remain silent, My Kin? Even now, do You laugh behind Your hands?"

Trailing writhing bands of shadow and snapping, uncontrolled snakes of power, a spear of palpable darkness erupts from the clouds over the Siroccians, plunging towards the buried Court of the Consortium.

The low, sultry tones of Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption reverberate across the land, "What have You done this time, Ultraist? Foolish upon more foolish, in a bid to prove Yourself in.. what?"

You step through an eerie mirror.

Domed sanctuary. (Court of the Consortium.)

An eerie mirror stands at the center of the sanctuary, its surface animated by the image of a murky pool of water.

You see a single exit leading down.

Ruined corridor. (Court of the Consortium.)

Glowing brightly, a spatial anomaly floats effortlessly through the air. Taygeta is here, hidden. She is riding on a fiery alaecorn. She wields a tower shield in her right hand.

You see exits leading south and up.

You say, "..maybe better to go in phased."

A short burst of azure light fills your vision and when it is gone, you find yourself phased out of sync with the rest of reality.

Court of the Consortium. (Court of the Consortium.)

A stone podium atop a raised dais stands at the center of the court. A seething miasma of jade clings to the towering form of Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption here. A cloaked figure is here, hidden. He is surrounded by one reflection of himself. He wields a lambent staff of milky skycrystal in his left hand and a rune-covered cavalry shield of conflagration in his right. Teani is here. Xavin is here. He is riding on a dusky, ochre-painted drakir. He wields an emblazoned kite shield in his left hand and an aetherstaff of gnarled obsidian in his right. Trager is here. He wields a serrated, leather-lashed dhurive in his hands. Surrounded by a swirling coagulation of shadow here, is the insubstantial form of Niuri, the Ultraist. The air hums and churns with power, arcane glyphs flickering fitfully on the edges of vision.

You see exits leading north, east, south, and west.

You see the following people here:

Chakrasul, a cloaked figure, Moirean, Teani, Xavin, Trager, Niuri

Niuri

She is an Immortal and is clad in robes that appear to be comprised of a coagulation of churning stygian shadow. It surges violently, vaguely revealing Her humanoid form below at its most coherent moments. Her skin, when visible, has the same atramentous hue of her robes, and appears to be equally insubstantial, pieces of it randomly breaking off now and then and fading away into the aether. Fixed upon her face is the Mask of Obscurity, fashioned of what appears to be metal. It is completely lacking in any orifice, for mouth, nose, or eyes, and conceals Her facial features entirely. Her build is slender, and while it appears as though She would be quite tall, She is hunched over rather treacherously, Her poor posture making Her barely taller than usual. A constant whispering surrounds Her, vacillating in volume and coherency, dropping a coherent word or segment of a phrase every once in a while before breaking apart again.

                       (obscuring the face) : the Mask of Obscurity

           (worn on a pale, slender finger) : a mithril ring of the Spheres

          (snared by Her atramentous robes) : an opalescent mask trinket

A cloaked figure cants his head slightly. "You have been searching through ancient tombs again, haven't you?" He says softly.

Emerald eyes narrowing, Chakrasul takes a few steps forward, the impassionate features upon the Goddess quickly turning angry as She pauses suddenly, noting the change in the air here, in the Court.

Teani narrows her eyes at Chakrasul as She appears, just barely tilting her head down in a semblance of respect.

Coldly, Chakrasul says, "The energy in the leylines are unstable, Sister. It is foolish to harness it straight from the Source."

Niuri turns Her empty stare on Chakrasul, unmindful of the mortal squabbling around Her. She laughs, again, some quirk of the ritual or the leaden air fracturing it in a crazed spiderweb of sound. "Now You appear before Me, Sister - now when the power is tangled and it is too late. Will you help Me, Sister, finally?"

Teani cocks her head to the side, eyes fixing on Niuri, not saying anything, but curiosity shows in her expression.

The ground heaves upwards with a sudden crack, groaning and shuddering for several moments before abruptly stilling as quickly as it had begun.

A cloaked figure leans back against the stone archway watching silently. A small grin appearing on his feature.

Chakrasul stares at Niuri's form for a long moment, emerald eyes contemplative. A cruel smile slides across Her lips as She steps back and then turns away. "I will not," says Chakrasul abruptly.

A jade mist seeps from the ground, enveloping the form of the Goddess of Corruption before wafting away in a slight breeze.

Elwyn crosses her arms over her chest as she gazes around at what is going on.

Niuri stares at the empty space occupied by Her Sister's retreating back, Her clawlike hands balling into fists; the power squatting in the room like a huge, supernatural toad surges erratically.

Niuri hisses, "So be it."

Mariena tugs at Elwyn slightly to begin a slow edging towards the corridor.

The ringing, choral shout of the Ultraist accompanies a violent surge of power through the leylines. "SO BE IT! You turn from Me, Chakrasul, and You will suffer with My other Siblings!"

Kaestrin's voice resonates across the land, "Not makin' many friends there, Corrupt One.. tsk tsk."

Elwyn nods at Mariena.

Jade clouds swirl above the Vashnars where the Goddess of Corruption resides, deep within Her stronghold, Tiyen Indoron, from where She watches.

Daskalos' deep rumbling voice resounds across the continent, "Be careful in there, Lady Chakrasul. I believe your temple's still on fire from when we attacked it."

The low, sultry tones of Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption reverberate across the land, "You will be silent, mortal."

Niuri whirls on the assembled individuals, Her mask shuddering within the depths of Her shadowed form. "Once more, I am alone." She mutters, whispers chasing each other through the hollow depths of the Court. "You witness, all of you. Would you then assist Me? Would you unveil the Source and give meaning to your brief time of influence on the games of Divinity?"

The dying screams of Kaestrin can be heard as the last of his flesh sloughs off of his bones, his fate brought about by the acidic rain of Chakrasul.

Rivas's voice resonates across the land, "You, uh...obviously don't remember Daskalos. I severely doubt he will."

Message #21238 Sent By: Taygeta         Received On: 12/09/2013/2:36

"Any action here I can take that would help the Republic in any way?"

Niuri demands, Her voice quivering through the audible spectrum, "None of you? Are there none brave enough to join Me in this My ascension?"

You sent the following message to Taygeta:

Well, She is on our advisory.

Your surroundings shatter into a cloud of glowing stars which dissipate to leave you back where you began.

Brightly, you say, "Sure! Let's destroy something!"

Chyme mutters, "Do not suffer the dregs, when the brew is all you crave."

Trager clasps his now empty hands behind him, speaking in a deep, rolling timbre. "I am the Maelstrom's, and no one else's. I simply watch."

With a soft sigh, Taygeta slips from her mount and moves to stand by the Imp. She says nothing, but glances at you, the corners of her mouth twitching only briefly.

Animated shadows move past you en masse and suddenly vanish into thin air.

Niuri turns Her empty stare on you, Her amorphous form writhing as the Goddess appraises you and Taygeta both.

"I was one of Yours, once," Phoenecia responds, eyeing the surrounding energy warily. "But that was ages ago."

Niuri hisses, "Many are Mine, and many turn from Me. That will change when I am come to My power. Mortals!" She straightens, Her crooked form unfolding to a towering spire of shifting darkness. "You who would drink the dregs of Divine power, lay open your flesh. Let the stone of the Consortium drink of your essence!"

Taygeta cants her head slightly to the side, a look of faintly befuddled curiosity in her eyes.

You have emoted: Moirean's nose wrinkles at the mention of dregs, but she gives a shrug anyways, apparently happy enough to go along with the ride. With a little grunt, she slices her dirk across her shadowy arm, and a dark substance seeps out of her skin, in what must be blood, albeit a bit less shiny and bright than usual, what with the lingering effects of the shadowplague and all. She prods at the wound, doing her best to ooze the sluggish flow out, and then beams brightly at Niuri, presenting her arm like a child showing off a clumsy bit of arts and crafts.

You run a needle-pointed dirk across your wrist and blood spurts from the open wound.

Taygeta smiles faintly as she glances towards you, taking a needle and jabbing it deeply into her arm. She drags it clumsily and painfully through her flesh with a wince, the resulting wound crude and messy.

Niuri lashes out - Her hand clasps your wrist in a ring of steel, and the Goddess drags you forward to bleed you her shadowed lifeblood over the centre of the chamber. It flashes into steam as it hits the rock, and the faint traceries of intersecting geometric shapes make themselves uneasily clear against the floor - a vast ritual circle, given lurid vigour by essence. "More." The Goddess demands, turning next on Taygeta as She discards you.

You have emoted: Moirean stumbles and sprawls to the ground as she's shoved aside. Her arms folds up to her chest, and her head tilts sideways, as she watches the effect her blood has on the floor. "Oooh," she breathes, eyes widening in interest.

Without hesitation, Taygeta offers her arm up to Niuri, the ashen skin dyed crimson already. She glances at the rocks at her feet, raising an eyebrow at the blood that fizzles away, and at the revealed patterns underfoot.

Niuri cruelly twists at Taygeta's offered flesh, spilling blood across the circle and raising it to full, sanguine light - the stone seems to shudder beneath the weight of its traceries, warping and shifting as though perception itself was crumbling. Taygeta is cast aside in much the same manner as you as the Ultraist turns on the ritual circle, Her anticipation palpable and thick.

You have emoted: Moirean's tail begins to anxiously poke at her as the ritual stuff gets a bit more wild. With an annoyed swat, she shoves the appendage away, attention firmly fixed on Niuri.

Taygeta stumbles back slightly, catching herself before she hits the wall. She spares little time to look at her arm, just holding it to her chest as she watches what transpires around her. Her curiosity is very evident, and she glances briefly at you before turning her attention back to Niuri.

Plunging Her clawed hands into the very stone, Niuri shudders violently, raging power earthing itself through Her form as the blood of mortals gives it passage into the bedrock. "WITNESS!" She shrieks, Her voice splintering into a roaring multitude, and the air begins to groan as the circle begins to open.

Eyes widening at the sight a cloaked figure leans forward against the arch, his attention solely on the divine and the circle.

Trager's eyes flicker and dance across the proceedings, his lips pressing into a thin, pursed look. Taking a few steps back, he continues watching in silence.

You have emoted: Moirean's eyes widen even more, nearly as big now as tiny teacup saucers, and she reflexively nods. She's witnessing, all right, and seems pretty transfixed by the sight, foolishly remaining seated where she was tossed instead of retreating to safety.

Elwyn takes several steps back, watching what is going on in front of her with wide eyes.

Straightening, Taygeta takes a step forward. One eyebrow is delicately arched in curiosity, though a look of concentration flashes over her face as her flesh knits itself back together. With a slight twitch of her ears, she pauses and glances from the ground to Niuri. She doesn't hazard another step forward, but neither does she retreat, completely entranced by what is happening.

Chyme offers a moist washrag to Taygeta. "For your arm," she murmurs.

Taygeta smiles faintly as she takes the offered rag, cleaning the blood from her arm clumsily, while her attention remains focused on Niuri.

Chyme nods, then steps away.

The ground quakes as the sound of a distant explosion echoes through the air.

The Source rips into your eyes like a palpable blade of light, occupying the entire chamber while not existing at all - the maddening vagrancies of its labyrinthine geometry challenge the edges of sanity, hinting at colossal wounds and the sobbing cry of a world, bleeding. The very bowels of reality are visible in snatches, flashing into sight through the gateway only to spiral away into obscurity. The Ultraist stands silhouetted against the horrifying, gaping hole in space, Her outline blurred and shaking with Her mad laughter.

Court of the Consortium. (Court of the Consortium.)

An intricate stone archway to the north towers over this large assembly area. Bricks and large stones have fallen from the vaulted ceiling above, leaving chunks of shattered rubble strewn about the court grounds. Thin rays of coruscating crimson light flood through the holes in the ceiling high above and rain down across the ash-covered court. A large podium rests atop a raised dais within the center of the court, flanked to the east and west by rows of stone benches. The benches form a semicircular amphitheater as they curve around the center of the court. A stone podium atop a raised dais stands at the center of the court. Wreathed in ethereal flame, a fiery-hued alaecorn stands silent sentinel here. Disproportionate and long, a pale, red-eyed leviathan whelp lingers here. A massive golem made of clay stands here. A cloaked figure is here, hidden. He is surrounded by one reflection of himself. He wields a lambent staff of milky skycrystal in his left hand and a rune-covered cavalry shield of conflagration in his right. Elwyn is here, shrouded. Taygeta is here, hidden. She wields a tower shield in her right hand. Surrounded in an aura of defilement, the monstrous form of Tina is here, hidden. She is riding on a phoenix of corruption. She wields a menacing flail in her left hand and a reinforced tower shield in her right. Chyme is here. Rowena is here. She wields a spiked kite shield in her left hand and a serpentine battleaxe accented with crystalline emeralds in her right. Xavin is here. He is riding on a dusky, ochre-painted drakir. He wields an emblazoned kite shield in his left hand and an aetherstaff of gnarled obsidian in his right. Damonicus is here. He is riding on a sprightly white mare. He wields a kalsu rune-carved wooden cane in his right hand. Trager is here, hidden. Surrounded by a swirling coagulation of shadow here, is the insubstantial form of Niuri, the Ultraist. A massive sandstorm threatens to choke out the life in this area. The air hums and churns with power, arcane glyphs flickering fitfully on the edges of vision.

You see exits leading north, east, south, and west.

His lips turning up into a faint smile a cloaked figure reaches up and lightly brushes a piece of hair from his face and tucks it delicately behind his ear. "Impressive." He whispers softly.

With concussive force, the Earthen Lord erupts from the ruined flagstones in a shower of dirt and detritus, landing heavily upon the ground. Snarling in contempt, Ivoln sets His burning eye upon Niuri and in a single, fluid movement that belies His great form, palms Her head in His grasp. The god lifts Her bodily off the ground in His grasp, giving a low laugh.

Ivoln says, "You are looking poor, Sister."

Trager stumbles back from the force of the eruption, scrambling backwards to avoid the falling debris.

Rowena grins, foolishly amused by the turn of events.

Taygeta's eyes widen, a blending of fear and wonder in her gaze, and yet she foolishly remains rooted to the spot. She trembles and glances from the blinding, reality-shattering 'thing' that has manifested itself, to the Goddess, black against its brilliance, in the grasp of Ivoln.

Niuri gasps, "Brother - what - no, You FOOL!"

Elwyn steps back further and to the side, swiping at dirt and rock that has gotten on her.

You have emoted: Moirean's transfixed interest only grew with the mad, wild display of reality's undercarriage, and she even lets out a little gasp of delight, hands beginning to clap, but Ivoln's appearance rattles her, and she instantly shrinks back, retreating away from Him.

Ivoln gives another low chuckle as His grip tightens, Niuri's mask cracking in His grasp. "You are seeking ascension, Sister? You aspire to such GREAT heights."

Placing both feet shoulder-width apart, Angwe places his hands behind his back, right above the left, keeping them flat as a board.

Niuri begins to laugh, breathlessly, the Source blazing beneath and behind Her fractured mask. "Fool." She gasps. "It rages now. The channel is broken! THE SOURCE RAGES BEYOND CONSTRAINT!"

(Spirean Hunters): You say, "Niuri begins to laugh, breathlessly, the Source blazing beneath and behind Her fractured mask. "Fool." She gasps. "It rages now. The channel is broken! THE SOURCE RAGES BEYOND CONSTRAINT!" - totes called it."

Rashar glances around quickly, assessing the situation for a quick moment before finding Trager and, taking Solaria's hand, stepping over to him.

Softly, Chyme says, "I'm like that after blood stew."

Angwe blanches and takes a cautious step back from the raging Goddess and the thing behind Her.

A cloaked figure stretches simply as he whispers to no one in particular. "Well, seems people know how to bring a different tune to the party..At the very least the source would have been slightly more controlled." He chuckles lightly, "Would have been an interesting change at least." He smirks.

Rowena mutters, "in before explosion." A wry grin crossing her face.

Angwe turns his head, casting a questioning look at the other Sentinels nearby.

Kaira beams broadly at Trager.

With a sneer, Ivoln says, "You were never able to hold such power. I, however, am more than capable than putting You in Your place, dear Sister. Let Us look upon this conduit together."

"Spirit," Angwe murmurs, pointing out a disembodied soul.

Her mirth fleeing Her in a crazed shriek, Niuri says, "It isn't for You! THE SOURCE IS NOT YOURS, BROTHER DIRT!"

Ivoln bodily drags the kicking goddess forward before the seething vortex, His grip tightening into a bone-shattering one as Niuri's mask continues to give way beneath the pitiless hand.

You have emoted: Moirean frowns at the manhandling of the Goddess and, after a few moments of uncertainty, pipes up in a shrill voice, "Stop that! Leave Her alone!"

Chyme rolls her eyes. "Yes, that'll do the trick."

Niuri shrieks in pain and now, terror, helpless to resist Her Brother's implacable march towards the Source. She hisses and roars in a thousand voices, Her words maddened beyond meaning or recognition.

Phoenecia simply watches as the gods approach the rift, carefully backing away towards what little cover that can be found.

Taygeta's lips purse, her jaw clenching as she observes.

Angwe tells you, "Dun care for th' company She keeps, but far as Northern gods go, I like Niuri... got a plan if this goes south?"

You tell Angwe, "He's bullying Her! I'm going to stab Him!"

You have emoted: Moirean bounces from foot to foot, anxiety increasing as the screams rise in volume. Her frown deepens until she finally darts forwards and - stupidly, weakly and ineffectively - tries to jab her dirk at Ivoln's ankle. "Stop that! She's just trying to...to...You guys made Her do it!"

You just received message #21248 from Toz.

Message #21248 Sent By: Toz             Received On: 12/09/2013/3:19

"Commander, I really can't say I'd stab Him in the ankle. Move around more towards the back, aim for the tendon."

Innumerable spectral whispers and a sudden chill heralds the ascension of the Underking to His throne.

"Think She did it to Herself," Xavin states, rolling his shoulders back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aw, hell," Angwe murmurs, darting forth. "That's far from a plan as it gets!"

A cloaked figure raises a brow towards you. His head shaking but slightly bemused at the little effects of her diversion. He watches with interest as the two divine approach the rift.

Ivoln slows, His attention wavering as the Underking's voice rises upon the air. His gaze softens for a brief moment, Niuri held limply in His grasp as He turns to regard a void in the crackling air.

Impassively, Phoenecia says, "The Ultraist always used to stand for sacrifice and purpose. Perhaps She got greedy this time. Hubris."

Kaira inches closer to Angwe and Trager, her features alert and tense.

An eerie silence overcomes the area and the air grows cold and still as the armored figure of the Underking fades into view before you.

Chyme moves towards Kaira, teeth bared.

The ground quakes as the sound of a distant explosion echoes through the air.

The shadows begin to grow increasingly oppressive as the Manipulator makes His presence known here, choosing to remain unseen as He silently gives watch to the conflict.

An ethereal, malformed eye comes into view within the dark depths of Dhar's hood. It silently appraises the situation.

A cloaked figure chuckles softly. "Invite one to the party, you get more than who you bargained for."

Angwe grasps you by the neck of your tabard, wrenching you away from Ivoln's ankle. "Think!" he barks, delivering a stinging slap to the back of your head.

Rowena braces herself for the inevitable explosion with so many divine in the room.

Angwe bends down, growling something into your ear.

You have emoted: Moirean's dirk doesn't do anything to Ivoln. He's made of rocks. It totally works against Angwe, though, and she reflexively slashes it into him in response to the slap.

Angwe murmurs to you, "Can't do shit when your dead. Calm down 'n think!"

A cloaked figure lifts a hand to hide a small smirk. "Seen that coming."

Kaira's grip tightens on her dhurive, as menacing gaze falls upon Chyme in warning.

You have emoted: Moirean leaves the blade wobbling in Angwe's flesh and scampers back as the other Divine appear, eyes widening even bigger.

Ivoln says to Dhar, "Have You come to witness Her fall?"

Niuri gasps, "You witness! All of You witness, but do nothing!"

Dhar's wispy left hand reaches into the dark depths of His cowl. It slowly pulls out the massive Sword of the Underhalls, and He wields it with a tightened grip.

Omei lingers in the air, a fly on the wall, gazing wide-eyed upon Niuri and Ivoln.

Angwe wrenches the blade from his arm with a grunt, dancing back from the gathering Divine and casually tossing it at a random pew. "Put up or shut up, y'great barricuda," he grunts, apparently to no one.

His voice distorted, Dhar says, "I have come to see the end of this mischief."

Taygeta bites her lip as she glances around the room, gaze finally settling on the rift. Something finally rattles her, and she curses under her breath before backing away and mounting. She murmurs something softly to you, a scowl upon her face that eases into apprehensive wonder as she glances back at the rift.

His voice suddenly pained, Ivoln says, "There is no need for that."

The shadows undulate as the voice of the Manipulator reverberates from all corners of the room, "Beg Me for forgiveness, beloved, and perhaps I may lend My hand to you."

Ison nods his head at Ivoln.

Fingers of jade mist creep into the location. Swirling upwards, it parts to the side, revealing the form of Chakrasul.

Solaria grips at Rashar's hand, muzzle wrinkling into a snarl.

Ashmer's too-long fingers encircle the haft of a slender, skeletal-hafted scythe, and he leans wearily on it.

"No good will come of this. No good, no good," Omei murmurs, affixed to the wall by a single outstretched hand.

Chyme murmurs to Omei, "Oh, You are beautiful. I did not realize how much so."

A cloaked figure says, "Can't be any worse...or could it...What an interesting concept indeed."

Angwe stiffens as Omei's voice rings out. He seems to shrink, momentarily, before inhaling a great breath and crossing his arms, looking on with chin jutted out.

Ivoln turns with renewed resolve, holding Niuri upwards before the Conduit with a rough laugh. "The least loved children of Varian come to witness Your ascension, Sister. Are You not PROUD? Come, look upon Your Brethren--WHAT DO YOU SEE?" He practically roars, hefting Niuri bodily into the air. "Look upon Your LOVING masses, Sister."

Hand in Jasline's, Arbre moves over to stand silently next to Elwyn.

Winterlynn enters from the west, riding a large snow leopard.

"Look upon Yours, Brother!" Niuri hisses, mad giggling erupting from Her shattered and dangling mask. A single white eye blazes balefully in the shadowed depths of Her scarred face, Her teeth split in a wide, crazed grin. "Do You not pine for His touch? Will You cast down all I deserve for the momentary grace of His regard!?"

A cloaked figure says, "If you count Lord Severn..She has one loved Child of the Lord Varian to witness Her ascension..if we wanted to be technical."

Quietly, Angwe says, "Meltas. Exposition good. Later."

Ashmer taps the butt of a slender, skeletal-hafted scythe back on the floor and leans heavily on it, his sclerotic spine crackling.

Ivoln surges forward with a bellow, pushing Niuri downward into the churning Conduit in a sudden mindless, seething rage.

Shadowy tendrils converge into a large sphere as the form of Severn, the Manipulator slips free of its embrace.

In a disappointed manner, Severn says, "You had your chance, beloved. Pity."

Coldly, Chakrasul says, "I understand Your desires, Ultraist, but this is far too perilous for Us all."

A frigid whirlpool whirls into existence just off to the back of the crowd of mortals. As the whirlpool drops to the ground, the Maelstrom is revealed, His arms crossed over His chest.

Ashmer's sound eye squints, the pupil dilating before closing to a pinpoint in the heated molten iris.

You see the following people here:

Chakrasul, a cloaked figure, Moirean, Elwyn, Ciri, Omei, Jasline, Tina, Solaria, Ison, Phoenecia, Slyphe, Chyme, Severn, Mazzion, Arbre, Rowena, Xavin, Angwe, Dhar, Damonicus, Kaira, Trager, Ashmer, Rashar, Ezalor, Niuri, Ivoln, Winterlynn

A second misty white eye joins Dhar's first. His armor clanks noisily as He turns to regard Slyphe. "Just in time, Brother. They are fighting amongst themselves," His voice echoes.

You have emoted: Moirean gasps as Niuri is pushed into the Conduit, her hands lifting to cover her mouth in horror.

Her gaze swivelling, Chakrasul's lips curl up briefly in scorn. Evidently, there is no love lost between these two Gods.

Omei shrinks back against the wall, baring Her fangs wide at Niuri.

Dhar tightens the grip upon His massive sword. "Perhaps now will be an opportune moment to put an end to their existences."

A cloaked figure says, "Family fighting. Nothing more interesting."

The Ultraist's blazing eye fixes on Winterlynn as She plunges into the riot of insane power, betrayal readable even through the riot of chaos, and a single choked shriek rips through the air befo

Moirean

The Ultraist's blazing eye fixes on Winterlynn as She plunges into the riot of insane power, betrayal readable even through the riot of chaos, and a single choked shriek rips through the air before She vanishes - but Her hands, carving deep into Ivoln's arms, remain visible, locking onto Her Brother like bands of cold venantium.

Now apparently bored by the current proceedings, Severn turns to leave and steps into the shadows, seamlessly melding with them.

Chakrasul turns upon Her heels, following suit.

The Earthen Lord tosses His head back, fighting the deathgrip that is upon Him with sudden horror. The earth begins to cave inwards, churning around Him as He struggles madly in Her grasp.

Slyphe steps forward to place Himself next to Dhar, His body effortlessly pushing through the mortals before Him as if incorporeal. "We are above that, Brother," the Deity notes with a quick pat upon His shoulder.

Ashmer lifts one sickly hand, brushing dismissively at the wetness now staining his sleeve.

You have emoted: Moirean glances towards the dirk Angwe tosses aside earlier, and then over to Ivoln's ankles, still exposed. Still quite made of stone, though. She remains where she is.

Angwe tells you, "If we're gonna do something, now's th' time."

A cloaked figure begins to hover slightly above the ground as he watches Ivoln struggle against the grip. His eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Angwe tells you, "He's... damn big, though. And a damn god. I fought one, They ain't easy to move."

You tell Angwe, "It's too late. I think it's been too late since the moment She refused Severn's choice."

(Newbie): Solus says, "I heard a God is dying.. erm.. someone update me on the situation?"

Ashmer's ribs crackle audibly as he straightens his violently-arched spine, a slender, skeletal-hafted scythe relinquished to one thin hand.

Angwe tells you, "Aye... all I could see happening is Him goin' in with Her."

You tell Angwe, "I don't want that. You might. I don't. He...He has things I want."

Angwe grunts at you noncommittally.

Dhar moves with blinding speed with His sword raised and swings at Ivoln - succeeding only in severing Niuri's clasping hands from Her body and freeing Ivoln of Her. He raises His sword once more, preparing to thrust at Ivoln.

His voice echoing angrily, Dhar exclaims, "DIE!"

As the hands vanish into the gaping planar wound, the Source slams shut with a deafening bang, normalcy asserting itself with sickening suddenness.

A deafening concussion rips through the Siroccians, accompanied by the fading, discordant shriek of the Ultraist. The ley itself shudders uneasily as the sound of crashing, groaning rock rises above the mountains.

The slits where Ashmer's nose once might have been flare as he draws a cold breath through his desiccated lungs.

Ison tightens the grip as his sword, eyes darting between Ivoln and Dhar.

This is the moment Angwe was waiting for. Drawing his axe from the belt attached to his bandolier, he sends the weapon winging with perfect aim at Ivoln's head in a bid to distract the Divine enough for Dhar to do his work.

You have emoted: At the Underking's shout, Moirean lets out a growl. She scampers over and retrieves her dirk, clutching it tight as she uselessly watches the two Gods. Her fingers flex around the blade as she nervously eyes Dhar, as if debating foolishly chucking the weapon at Him.

Ivoln stares at Dhar, His expression unreadable as He looks at the Underking and reaches out a wavering hand to grasp Ison, pushing Him in the path of the sword thrust.

Omei slips from the wall like a dark shadow, landing on Her haunches, tail snapped taut in a curlicue. "INTERLOPERS," She hisses, jumping into the fray, leaping to intercept you.

Xiuhcoatl says, "We're fighting?"

The scramble is interrupted by the tormented groan of rock, and the roof of the chamber sags visibly.

You have emoted: Moirean lets out a squeak and tries to backpedal from Omei. She falls flat onto her butt, lifting the dirk in front of her like a feeble sort of shield.

Arbre looks up sharply, frown on her face.

Phoenecia says, "Looks like it's time to bolt."

"STOP," Slyphe roars, a hand extending towards Dhar as if to halt the God in His tracks. "Brother there is a time and a place for this," He warns, voice low. "This is neither. Let Him go."

Toz ripples into existence before you.

Toz appears abruptly, smoothly sliding in front of you with his shield raised.

Dhar's rage propels His blade forward toward Ivoln, but Ison is in the way, and consequently suffers the Godly assault.

Dhar razes Ison's speed defence with the Sword of the Underhalls.

Dhar slices across Ison with the edge of the Sword of the Underhalls.

Horror overcomes Ison's face as his body stiffens into paralysis.

Dhar neatly slashes Ison with the Sword of the Underhalls.

Horror overcomes Ison's face as his body stiffens into paralysis.

Dhar neatly slashes Ison with the Sword of the Underhalls.

Horror overcomes Ison's face as his body stiffens into paralysis.

Dhar wounds Ison with a diagonal swipe of the Sword of the Underhalls.

Horror overcomes Ison's face as his body stiffens into paralysis.

Dhar neatly slashes Ison with the Sword of the Underhalls.

Horror overcomes Ison's face as his body stiffens into paralysis.

Dhar wounds Ison with a diagonal swipe of the Sword of the Underhalls.

Ison has been slain by Dhar.

Trager grunts noncommittally.

Menelaus just watches silently, before he was so rudely interrupted.

Phoenecia says to Rashar, "Unless you want to be crushed by the collapsing ceiling, now would be a good time to run."

Angwe's a throwing axe bounces off of Ison with a sickening crack, returning to his hand. As the roof begins to crumble, he dances back, shouting a warning, "Time to go, Pride!"

A second hideous groaning tears through the chamber to accompany Phoenecia's words.

The ghost of a smirk passes fleetingly over Ashmer's lips.

Xiuhcoatl says, "Real men never leave from a fight."

Xiuhcoatl vigorously spins a perfect crystal sphere, and it begins to hover in the air.

Xiuhcoatl makes a forceful gesture and some crystals embed themselves into the ground.

Softly, A cloaked figure says, "Impressive. He withstood five attacks."

Phoenecia says, "Duanathar."

Phoenecia is swiftly carried into the skies and out of sight by a set of prismatic wings of light.

Xiuhcoatl appears to become more firmly rooted to the ground.

Xiuhcoatl says, "Till death."

Kaira says to Angwe, "Right behind you."

Menelaus nods his head at Xiuhcoatl sagely.

Rashar waves his hand dismissively at the world, clearly demonstrating his boredom.

Quietly, Arbre says to Jasline, "Us too, I think."

Rashar says to Solaria, "Go."

Comprehension flashes across Solaria's face.

The stones tremble moments from collapse - then begin to fall!

Arbre, Ciri, Jasline, and Kaira leave to the north following Angwe.

In a shrill squeak, head nodding up towards the ceiling, you say to Toz, "Love, we have to GO!"

The great structure of Court of the Consortium suddenly shudders, cracking inwards as the foundation gives way to a great, yawning void. Boulders and rubble crash downwards in a shower, crushing everything and anyone within the dark depths.

Meltas has been slain by the maddening currents of the Source of Knowledge.

You have been slain by the maddening currents of the Source of Knowledge.

AND WE ALL DIIIIIED.

Riluo

Niuri

Omei

@Dhar is such a curare-spamming noob.

Ison

@Omei at least @Dhar didn't hit my rebounding 10,000 times!

Haern

At least Ivoln got to BBT you.

Angwe's a throwing axe bounces off of Ison with a sickening crack, returning to his hand. As the roof begins to crumble, he dances back, shouting a warning, "Time to go, Pride!"

He was already dead, @Angwe! Way to kick a guy when he's already down.

Arbre

I'll admit that 100% of why I quit shouting at the beginning was because @Niuri called me a (fickle little) wolf. I have (quite obviously) been playing up the Arbre-is-more-wolf-than-human thing for a few years, so having that recognized publicly by a God made me a little gleeful.

Aishia

RIP Niuri, will always have fond memories.

Aarbrok

Aarbrok albeit would never admit his fondness still for Niuri took his leaving Spinesreach and Vampirism as Sacrifice to understand the living.  A Sacrifice that he ultimately could never go back after doing.  He would grump anytime Her name was brought up and ignore comments made and the like.  That being said I went to Spinesreach to just kinda vent after all this happened, and got a bit more.  Thanks though guys, it kinda put the nail in the coffin so to speak

(I hope it is okay I post this here...if not I can put it elsewhere but I think it would be okay)

(Same General idea - Pre-Emptive apologies for my RP if its really bad, I get nervous posting stuff here)

You say, "Sh..She's gone...."

You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

Satomi tilts her head curiously.

You have emoted: Aarbrok ponders Satomi and then looks unto Aoi curiously, "I heard news...the 

Ultraist is no more?" he asks, a bit confused yet gravelly still in his tone.

The Inner Gate of Spinesreach (road) (11708) - Spinesreach (25)

A black marble pedestal has been knocked over, cracking the bowl that once rested upon it. The Inner 

Gate of Spinesreach looms high overhead here. A veranda has been constructed here, providing welcome 

shade to those in need of it. There are 3 clay golems here. A wooden chest is here, carved to mimic 

the Spires of Spinesreach. A bleak and terrifying tapestry of snarling hounds hangs here. A large 

statuette has been dropped here. A pine-lined iron bin has been set here, ready to be be filled with 

trash. Quiet and unmoving as stone, a lupine Atabahi stands guard here. A Sciomancer of the Spires 

stands here, his hands resting on a black voidstaff. A bright decoration has been hung here, Spirean 

colors proudly displayed. A Syssin Inquisitor waits nearby, blending in with his surroundings. Hands 

folded in the sleeves of his dark, voluminous robes, a cabalist stands ready to guard his city. 

There are 2 donkeys here. Hung here is a fabulous painting of a dashing Carnifex framed by semi-nude 

women. A backpack crafted from the furs of a white bear lies here. There are 2 eerie spiritual 

stallions here. A large mastiff is here, growling softly. A gnarled hand lies here, blackened and 

furled like a dying insect. High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst is here. She wields a bardiche in 

her hands. Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare is here, shrouded. She is riding on an eerie spiritual 

stallion. Bold lettering hovers above a nearby chest: "SPIREAN COMMUNITY CHEST - Feel free to take 

what you need!"

You see exits leading north, southeast, and down.

He is an agile Yeleni touched by the fell energies of the Core. His hunched body reaches nearly six 

foot in height. Like the gangly boughs of a willow, his gaunt body is ill equipped for resilience to 

damage and purely dependent on his guile. His skin is a sickly verdant tone, accentuated by dark 

streaking in his flesh brought forth by phosphorescent energy coursing through his veins, offering a 

eerie glow to his otherwise lifeless flesh. Midnight-hued locks of hair lie matted in dreadlocks, 

adorned with raven's feathers and bone beading, the bulk is tied back behind his head securely. Two 

pointed ears stick up curiously through his hair on either side of his head, while his forehead is 

crowned by twisted sylvan horns, one broken viciously in half and the other twisted back over his 

head. His golden eyes gaze out upon their surroundings predatorily, the slitted pupils and bloodshot 

sclera reminiscent of a feral beast. Dark rings accentuate the eyes and the shading on his face and 

cheekbones showcase an emaciated profile consumed by restless nights and inherent madness. 

Protruding from his back are a set of tattered midnight wings, offering a ravenesque touch to his 

hallowed visage.

                        (worn upon a thumb) : an ominous carved bone band

                         (worn on the ears) : 2 flared emberite plug earrings

                  (strung to his bandolier) : an octagonal pendant

                (tied securely to his belt) : a crimson belt-hung pouch

          (radiating an eerie luminescence) : a ylem-infused clawed gauntlet

                    (around his left wrist) : a linked amber flame bracelet

                 (strapped across his body) : an amber, quarter-cuirass armoured bandolier

                         (through the nose) : a thick, burnished steel nose ring

                   (draping his lower half) : a sarong-style kilt of golden-brown leopard fur

                         (worn on a finger) : a ring of the Guardians

                    (slung across his body) : an improvised earthy pack bound with twine

                       (wrapping his hands) : winding, stained hide gloves

                          (around the neck) : a claw amulet holding an exquisite gem

               (hanging from the shoulders) : a massive, jet-black hooded bear cloak

                         (worn on the back) : a crenelated, blackened steel buckler

             (wrapping his calves and feet) : a pair of tribal, leather-wrapped boots

Xenia enters from the down, riding a painted mountain stallion.

You incline your head politely to Xenia.

Ser Xenia of the Steel says to you, "Hello."

You say to Xenia, "Yes, hello."

Satomi nods her head at you.

High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst says to you, "That seems to be the case."

You have emoted: Aarbrok purses his lips as he acknowledges the response, what can only be 

determined as a slight frown creasing his sickly profile as he nods in return.

Softly, Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare says to you, "She is no longer on this plane, yes. Perhaps a part 

of Her remains, but nothing to support Her influence."

A faint gleam of decaying flesh catches your eye, perhaps coincidentally, on the cobbles to the side 

of the gate.

Although you can see through the slots into the courtyard beyond, the gate blocks further entrance 

into the Citadel. The gates are extremely solid, and once held off a mortal invasion. On the face of 

the gates is a mosaic in the shape of a white mountain lion wearing a crown upon its head. Ivy wraps 

around the lion.

You pick up a withered, blackened hand.

Cleanly severed, this withered hand looks to be ancient. It is black as pitch, though it is unclear 

whether this is from age or burning, and still crawls with unearthly power and flickering shadow.

It weighs about 5 pound(s).

Aoi tilts her head curiously at you.

Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare asks, "Could I see that?"

You have emoted: Aarbrok looks onto the hand as he grasps it from the ground near the gates, 

scowling miserably as he ponders it, "Finders keepers dearest. Finders keepers." he muses, licking 

his lips for a moment, "You know, I served as Her voice here in the Republic for maaaaaany years. 

Things, wonderful things I spoke on Her behalf." he intones, stuffing the hand into a crimson pouch, 

"Sacrifice was something I educated, perhaps she took the ultimate Sacrifice for her pursuit of 

Knowledge, as so Hers do in turn."

"Mmmm..." you softly utter to yourself.

You say, "Knowledge is a deadly pursuit, certainly."

The corners of Aoi's mouth lift slightly in a small grin.

You have emoted: Casting a slight smirk, Aarbrok shakes his head, "Even so, things....glorious 

things come if we persevere." he concludes, idly tapping his own nose. "I am certain we all know the 

horrid things that can come about, if we grow stagnant and stale, my goodness the only thing that 

does good sitting around is liquor." he admits with an uneasy chuckle.

You look about, rubbing your chin thoughtfully.

You say, "Perhaps I will nose about bit, any big parties up here in the North in the upcoming future.

"

You say, "A bit, rather."

Softly, Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare says to you, "Unfortunately, I have lost touch with the party 

atmosphere."

Appearing to be on a stroll, a Syssin Inquisitor jams his hands into his pockets, whistling 

tunelessly as he wanders about.

High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst says, "There will likely be one for Lady Niuri sometime soon."

You have emoted: Aarbrok nearly offers a pout, rather uncharacteristically of himself. Albeit it 

sounded more like a snort or scoff in all honesty, "Pity..." he replies simply, tossing up a hand in 

a dismissive manner, "Should truly rectify that dear, Aoi. There we goo....see Satomi is in with the 

hip kids and their hootnannies!" he says throwing up a mocked enthusiastic thumbs-up, "Do let me 

know, I would be quite happy to attend, after all in Life or Death, knowledge is something we can 

always appreciate...mmm." he says in a more upbeat tone in response to Satomi.

A strange shadow passes slowly over the street.

Omei falls from the sky like a hurtling spear, landing on you. Something confusing and chaotic 

happens, mortal and Goddess tumbling at high speed until Omei winds up on top of you.

Satomi gives a trillingly melodic laugh.

Aoi gives a trillingly melodic laugh.

High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst says to Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare, "That is how you grapple, my 

love."

Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare says to High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst, "It looked almost effortless.

"

A soft humming momentarily surrounds you, radiating from the Spires of the Citadel.

You have emoted: Aarbrok tumbles to the ground, shouting out a rather loud "Ooof, as he falls 

uncharacteristically underneath the Goddess and attempts rather poorly to writhe free, "Good Gods, 

Artist....I normally ask for a hot meal and some Whiskey first." he shouts, in his repeated failures 

to dislodge himself from the Goddesses fall.

"I COULD REALLY USE A HAND," Omei bellows. At close range, She treats you to a faceful of absinthe-

drenched breath. Pinning the man down with muscular arms, she asks, in a mercifully polite voice, 

"Maybe you could help Me?"

She is an Immortal, blazing with energy and yet barely contained with Her wiry, narrow form. 

Reminiscent of a Rajamala, Her fur is dark black in color, thick and wild, and glowing purple 

markings twist underneath it, taking the form of winding, interlocking tattoos that never quite stop 

moving; these seem reminiscent of some ancient, forgotten system of writing. Though slender and 

sinuous, Her form is powerfully-muscled, rippling with even the slightest of movements. Every twitch 

and response is visible beneath the constraining barrier of Her fur and flesh. Her long fingers give 

way to vicious claws, each of them at least an inch in length and tapering to sharp points. The mane 

that sprouts from Her head is pulled back into a series of long, whiplike braids, its color just as 

black as that of the rest of her fur. Her face is all sharp angles; a long muzzle, high cheekbones, 

motes of light like stars caught in the night sky of Her fur. Two feline eyes, a dark plum in color, 

sit ensconced deep in Her sockets, and Her lips are a yet darker shade of purple, highlighting the 

gleaming snow white of Her teeth.

                         (worn on the legs) : a torn pair of black billowing leggings

                    (hanging from Her belt) : the Muse's tome

                    (slung over a shoulder) : a bloodstained darkbow

                       (covering the torso) : a ragged brown undershirt

                         (around the waist) : a soft belt of black silk

                         (worn on the back) : a sleek leather quiver

Xenia raises an eyebrow questioningly.

Softly, Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare says to High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst, "I wonder if we 

should help Her..."

You have emoted: Aarbrok stares up at Omei, his bestial golden eyes directly into her plum sockets. 

A slight smirk crossing his face as the absinthe teases his nose from Her breath, "A hand you say, I 

would offer applause, I assure you...the grandest of the sort if I was not betwixt Your legs dear." 

he muses, stifling his enjoyment of being straddled by a Goddess rather poorly.

High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst says to Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare, "I doubt She'd agree. After 

all, who doesn't enjoy manhandling Aarbrok alone?"

Fell light churns in Omei's belly, visible through Her undershirt. Most of the time, it appeaars as 

nothing more than a haze, but other times it ramifies into the shape of a hand.

"As much as I'd absolutely -relish- a rollabout right in the city streets, I think you know what I'm 

talking about." Omei's skull-like grin drops. Her lips peel back, her fangs bared. "Don't you. Don't 

you!"

Aoi tilts her hat back, removing the mask of shadow it casts, to properly take in the scene before 

her, adding in her soft tones, "I have witnessed two extraordinary people withstand two direct 

assaults by the Divine this month. I wonder how long Aarbrok will holdout."

Xenia watches on in a stony silence that, until now, she has seemed to be able to maintain. She 

shifts closer to Satomi and leans in to whisper, "Why are they here?"

You have emoted: Aarbrok sighs, although a smirk hides any disappointment as he watches the Goddess 

bare her fangs, "I do, I absolutely do." he says with forced enthusiasm, a slight wink of his eye as 

he attempt to shift to the side to no avail, "Although dear Artist, as I told the lovely ladies up 

here, ...well. Perhaps we should take this roll-about in the North elsewhere and discuss things, Mm..

" he replies, shifting yet again rather uncomfortably as his bony hand contorts under Her torso 

trying to wrest free.

Grimdale strides in from the southeast, his colossal form sending tremors through the ground.

He is followed by a clay golem.

Satomi tilts her head in Xenia's direction, "Him to pay his respects and get filled in on the news, 

I imagine. Her to muscle some items out of Aarbrok's possession."

Raising a hand casually to display his wrist tattoo, a Syssin Inquisitor gives Ferrik a grave nod, a 

form of recognition briefly visible in his eyes.

Astounded, you say, "Items....bah! What items...."

High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst says, "Items, limbs.. it is all the same."

Omei arches forward, pressing Herself against you belly to belly, a sight that would make ladies 

blush and sailors blow wolf whistles. She runs one long, sharp claw up the side of your cheek, Her 

tail lively in the air. "Blah. Blah. Blah. Naught but monkey sounds. Hold still, little monkey." 

Just as quickly, Her claws run down your side, not quite so kindly, and pat around until they find 

the hand in your possession.

Omei reaches into the ether and pulls out a withered, blackened hand.

Grimdale drinks from a battered iron cup of "Liquid Steel".

You have emoted: Aarbrok shudders, a look of pleasure than a look of pain crosses his features, a 

scowl than a mischievous grin as the Goddess manhandles him. "Oh, we are Roleplaying, Mmm..." he 

says in a fit of madness, "Ooooh...Ooooh...Aaaah aaaah...." he feigns in monkey voices, eye 

twitching all along as he somewhat snaps back into himself, as a rather harsh clawing scratches upon 

his flesh, "Pit sake!" he exclaims as his face contorts into an expression of pain.

Omei leaps off of your body, holds the blackened hand up to Her muzzle, and inhales deeply. "Perfect,

 just perfect..." She whispers, then pokes one of the cadaverous digits into Her mouth. She gives it 

a nibble, at most, before spitting it out. "No, still disgusting!" Carelessly, She flings it into 

the street.

Omei drops a withered, blackened hand.

You have emoted: Aarbrok reaches out and grabs for it.

You pick up a withered, blackened hand.

You exclaim, "Mine!"

Ser Grimdale Nebre'seir, Sanguinic Warrior says to you, "Hmm, do I want to know who's that was?"

"Niuri's," Omei says, brightly.

You have emoted: Aarbrok turns aside all dignity as he clutches the hand in his grasp, still pinned 

underneath the Goddess.

Comprehension flashes across Grimdale's face.

Grimdale's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare asks, "To be more accurate, Her vessels? Or was it different with Her?"

You say, "I ...I was Her errand boy for years, a trinket, a precious little trinket...."

You have emoted: Aarbrok pets the hand idly with his thumb, "Precious."

Ser Grimdale Nebre'seir, Sanguinic Warrior says to you, "Definitely should make a glove out of it."

"A foul, disgusting victual if there ever was one!" Omei spits, clutching at Her stomach. A faint 

smear of light peeks through Her fingers at contact. "Still, I'll try any food twice." Her tail 

lifting in a snap, She sprints away, leaping into the sky.

A few tufts of fur float down from above.

Mystified, Princess Kirima Aoi Lunare asks, "Twice?"

Ser Grimdale Nebre'seir, Sanguinic Warrior says, "I wouldn't ask."

Grimdale shrugs helplessly.

Grimdale drinks the last drops from a battered iron cup with traces of "Liquid Steel".

You have emoted: Aarbrok breathes heavily as the weight is lifted from his body, he twists and 

attempts to pull his gaunt body off the ground. A series of cracks and snaps precedes the lifting as 

he heaves his hunched body back upright, "Omei, the Artist and I would have glorious insane children.

" he whispers under his breath as he attempts to regain composure and dust himself off.

High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst says to you, "Go for it. You might last long enough for it to 

happen."

You peer at Satomi suspiciously.

You say, "I....did not think I said that out loud."

You blush furiously.

Ser Grimdale Nebre'seir, Sanguinic Warrior says, "Oh, you did."

Grimdale nudges you suggestively.

Ser Grimdale Nebre'seir, Sanguinic Warrior says, "But you weren't the only one thinking it."

Grimdale taps his nose knowingly.

Satomi smiles wryly.

You say, "Yes then....very well.  Carry on Northerners.  Much Pillaging and purging to be done.  

Slaughter those filthy Enorianites and whatnot and so forth."

You wave a hand dismissively at the world, which neither impresses nor amuses you.

You say, "Voltda."

Irruel

If I could read/know this IC, I'd really think I need to get to know my allies better. They're clearly not who I think they are.

Dhar

You have no idea how hard I was laughing when @Ivoln shoved @Ison in the way. It was completely unplanned. Poor meatshield.

Ison

@Ivoln obviously wins the award for Best God to Champion, after getting BBT'd and then meatshielded

Winterlynn

I felt terrible once I figured out what was going on. I had laid down because I wasn't feeling good for a few hours and when I woke up, I logged in and was told immediately to go to Niuri and I couldn't find the place. I was arguing with Menelaus On AIM over something stupid that I don't remember now and ended up chasing Arbre in by watching her on who to figure out in which direction I was supposed to be running. Once I got there, then I was trying to give Menelaus directions because he wanted to come and as I was typing out an emote having finally figured out what was even going on, Niuri was pushed into the thing and I just. Uck. 

Everyone that has ever RPed with me knows I'm a slow-poke from lack of experience and when there are lots of people, my anxiety kicks into high gear and I freeze up. I felt terrible about it and Winter was like frozen for hours afterwards from the shock. 

Anyway, I felt the need to explain for those that don't really know me or why I didn't emote or do anything. 

Aarbrok

Aww Winter, I heard from Macavity how you guys took everything.  Im sorry you were not able to get there in time for the bulk of the event.  I know how much it meant to your character. Perhaps I can creep you out like I did @Macavity earlier.

No need to apologize though, you reacted with Winter how would be expected. 

Arbre

I'm a decently fast emoter and I couldn't keep up with that, @Winterlynn, so don't fret about anything.

Trager

The only one who seemed to keep up was Meltas, and by half way through Trager was ready to gag him.

Omei

That's the wrong attitude, though! I wish more people would be social during events. I feel like for some people, events seem to be cutscenes you sit through and watch. Very much not the case.

Xavin

I don't know that it was so much that he was commenting, but rather the way those comments were coming across.

Neoma

I know I am late to this discussion but I do not visit these forums very often. The whole event happened while I was not in the realm and I felt bad for that even thought I know I could have done nothing to stop it.

Loosing Niuri has a strong impact on Neoma's RP and frankly the player behind Neo is also disgusted. The long long journey that that Goddess enacted was so colorful and full of great events. Anyway I will never understand why admin had to make it so final with what seems like no hope at all for her return.

Moirean

When all this was happening, I was actually thinking about you, @neoma. You and Niuri are very linked in my head, and it's odd to think of Neoma without Niuri to worship.

Omei

Neoma said:

I know I am late to this discussion but I do not visit these forums very often. The whole event happened while I was not in the realm and I felt bad for that even thought I know I could have done nothing to stop it.

Loosing Niuri has a strong impact on Neoma's RP and frankly the player behind Neo is also disgusted. The long long journey that that Goddess enacted was so colorful and full of great events. Anyway I will never understand why admin had to make it so final with what seems like no hope at all for her return.

Nothing should be allowed to "ruin" your RP. Neoma wakes up and discovers that her beloved Goddess is dead. There's grief, hardship, asking why, why, oh why. Trying to cope. Carrying Niuri's faith on in her heart. Even without being as melodramatic as I provided, there's tons of roleplaying to be had from this. It's all about you.

Toz

At the same time, it also sucks massively to log in and be told 'Oh yeah, that god got deleted/changed sides/whatever. Nothing you can do about it - all that work you put in? Flushhhhhh. So, I understand people who may have their guilds removed/changed not wanting to mess with it/not liking it, and in a sense? Yeah it kind of does ruin your RP. Because you have to do a massive change, and that change is NOT always fun to play. I'm kind of a masochist with my characters, I like the struggle, BUT it does get old. And it can definitely make people get less engaged/interested. The tl;dr is, I guess, it's 'all about you' in the same way liking or disliking to eat certain foods is (not always something you have full control over).

Macavity

@Omei its one thing to see a gradual change over time in which the Goddess was hinting at Her destruction, and another when it happens out of the blue.  It was almost like the Pools decided, oh Niuri is not logging in as much and Her Order is small, so lets just delete them, and POOF, gone.

I agree with @Neoma, in that even Mac's RP has been torn away from him, as he followed Niuri for a very long time, and worked his butt off to get to the level he was at within it.  Now he's feeling like all that work is for nothing and contemplating if he wants to do that all over again, just to see the same thing possibly happen again.  On top of this, none of the other Gods or Order heads have reached out to those that were in Niuri to lend support or possibly invite them into their Congregations/Orders.  RP that could also be interesting.  

On top of these changes, chest changes, and the lack of direction from the Pools in general for the realm, I honestly find myself logging in less and less.  

Aarbrok

Im not going to be a pill or mean any disrespect in any of these comments Macavity when I say, that the game is truly not dependent on the Pools to create and bring forward events constantly for the player base as a whole.

Much of what we are able to do and create to make a fun environment is actually free and within our own imagination.  If you consistently depend on the administration and the volunteers within to make it a fun experience for you, you -will- have a poor time.  What you were given is a large kick in the behind to create storyline arcs and to bolster creativity, character anger, hatred towards perhaps Ivoln for what He did, something within your means to lash out inside your organizations for the wrongdoing against a Goddess you hold so dear.  Even I on the opposite side attempted to RP with you, in which we had a fun interaction.  Albeit you typically and openly admitted were a bit rusty in the Roleplay department I think a bit of that could create some fun for you.

You were given the Acumen Circle which was a clan used to educate those of Niuri, That is a kind gift to be given and a great tool to use.

If I was in your situation I would use what options available and create something great.  In fact, with the tool I was given I have been doing so, albeit likely to the disdain of perhaps some more canon rules, there has been nothing to say I could not, and I have not been retconned for my personal actions.  In fact it has opened up unique arcs for my roleplay.

I do not mean you to be discouraged by my words, in fact I will continue to open to Macavity as a character if you need an outlet.  Niuri was a big part of my roleplay, even if it was for a shorter term than perhaps you or Neoma, I can relate to your feelings.

I hope the anger towards other Gods or the Pools does not discourage an amazing opportunity to use what you do have and what your character knows to make something great happen from it.

Xavin

Macavity said:

@Omei its one thing to see a gradual change over time in which the Goddess was hinting at Her destruction, and another when it happens out of the blue.  It was almost like the Pools decided, oh Niuri is not logging in as much and Her Order is small, so lets just delete them, and POOF, gone.

I agree with @Neoma, in that even Mac's RP has been torn away from him, as he followed Niuri for a very long time, and worked his butt off to get to the level he was at within it.  Now he's feeling like all that work is for nothing and contemplating if he wants to do that all over again, just to see the same thing possibly happen again.  On top of this, none of the other Gods or Order heads have reached out to those that were in Niuri to lend support or possibly invite them into their Congregations/Orders.  RP that could also be interesting.  

On top of these changes, chest changes, and the lack of direction from the Pools in general for the realm, I honestly find myself logging in less and less.  

This is going to sound very callous, but I'm going to say it anyway. You guys need to buck up. No other order reached out to the followers of Chakrasul when she was replaced by Ysmali. No other order reached out for Lleis' followers. Both of those deaths were rather sudden in nature, just like this. And I'm pretty sure no one wept for the people who liked Ysmali when she turned back into Chakrasul. No one wept for Arion's order and if people remembered what happened back then, I'm sure that it would be the case that no one really wept for the members of Rahn's order when he died. If Haern were to be killed off, I wouldn't expect anyone to reach out to the members of Haern's old order, either.

Use what is available to you and make the best of it. Not everything that happens in the game is going to be pleasant for every character, unfortunately. But you need to realize that these decisions aren't made to screw over players.

Moirean

Spinesreach held a memorial drinking night, and Aoi's been busy as the Cardinal creating a museum/shrine to Nuiri's memory in the Godspire. It's a bit rude to say that nobody's done anything, when our first response was "How can we keep her memory alive?"

Neoma

I am also creating something for a memory of her and more importantly after Neo's shock and disbelieve dissipated she found a new Purpose and will keep Niuri's tenets in mind exercising Excellence and Sacrifice while following this purpose. Be warn not everyone will like this!  :P

Aarbrok

@Neoma I loved our interaction today.

Thank you.  You are the example of the expectations for something like this.

Continue on your path and with your passion, it was really good to see you even if we are on opposites sides now, Aarbrok always looked up to you.

Neoma

@Aarbrok right back at you man. The interaction was at a pace I could follow and have time to emote, so I also enjoyed it a lot.

@Omei I feel I need to thank you for your response to my whining earlier in this thread. It was the kick in the ass I needed. So making Neo react to loosing Niuri by going ballistic on shrines and acting ruthless which is not the norm for her was both difficult and refreshing. Oh and yeah I love your purple moth.

Onwards we go, I have no clue where this will all lead us but the anticipation is fun.