Scene Archives

coughs once, twice, then chuckles faintly. A Brief pause before he starts laughing again, quietly at first and then loudly, before it abruptly stops and he opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling.

gasps to life and with breath, a heartbeat suspended in his throat. There’s a shuffling and faint scratching as his hands slowly clasp, working fingernails across the stone.

opens her eyes, and notes the tiles on the ceiling. She keeps her hands still and her breathing even. She is listening for other breaths, other voices. She closes her eyes again and listens.

plates clank, gears turn, and a faint whistle of steam, as a large steel figure rises, and begins to survey the room

opens their eyes slowly…reluctant to leave that melody, so different than the Heart-song he’s long known. He breathes in…and the breath catches, a strangely wretched sound.

becomes aware of his senses first before testing them. Ripped from any sense of familiarity, he scans the room, looking for anything that he could identify - any fact, no matter how simple, that he can use to ground himself in the tumult of his emotions.

flexes fingers and toes–eyes flickering open. He sits up in a single motion, bright green wolf-eyes scanning the room.

sits up after a minute before sliding off the slab he was rested upon and shakes out his legs experimentally, before turning back and grabbing the long spear that had been resting beside him. “Six people, six slabs… I assume none of us are the host?”

says, “No. This place is new to me. Not-home.”

sits up from the waist, rising not unlike a puppet. He is thin, his form made even smaller from the darkness of his clothes, but his hair and eyes give away the dark tanned face, unable and unwilling to hide.

says, “This isn’t home… not for me.”

sits up, crossing her legs. She is a small, bird-like woman. Her hair is long and dark and is escaping from the crown braids on her head. She is wearing a cloak, dark green. If you come closer, you might see intricate embroidery over every inch. She has the brown coloring of a sparrow, with a aquiline, down-turned nose. Her clothes are finely decorated, if made of simple organic materials.

says, “Fortunately… I can make it a little more so.”

says, “I am not from here either.”

shifts his eyes from spear to…thing…and then around the room, taking in the stirring figures. “I…” But that’s all he gets before his face twists and he coughs hard. “Hrr.” He looks human, save for the elongated, pointed ears, the wolfish eyes, and–just barely glimpsed as he coughs–the fangs. He’s clad in simple armor of undyed leather and bone, over which he wears a long, sleeveless overcoat of crimson hue, open at the front and flared below the waist; around his waist is a sash of dark green cloth, with what looks like scabbards of some kind tucked inside.

takes a moment to shake himself awake, not unlike a dog drying its coat. His navy jacket flaps in the air with the motion before settling back down onto his wrinkled white button-down shirt, adjusting his glasses and absently running his fingers through the purple stripe on top of his head. “This place is unfamiliar to me, too. As are all of you. But we arrived here together, and that must mean… something.”

says, “is a male metahuman, vaguely fox-flavored. He’s not particularly tall or short, but is a bit stocky. Small foxes ears to the side of his head and a tail on his back, a red beard on his face and hair slicked back. Doesn’t look old perse, but definitely has a worn an experienced air to him. His clothing is a mix of red cloths, tan leathers and metallic-colored scales, though he’s not especially heavily dressed. ”

swings his body sideways, now dangling his legs off the bed, and cautiously hops off, testing his boots. The boots are worn with nicks in the heel, and adorned with dull grey scales- their pattern is irregular. Some must have fallen off at some point.

stands in a fluid motion–this is one who is well versed in his body’s use. His mouth works for a long moment, before: “Where?”

stands, steel scraping on stone. A frame taller and wider than any man found on their homeworld, covered in steel plates, steam venting out of gaps. They are not completely armored, and where the plates spin away or do not cover, an intricate mesh of gears, cogs, wire, and bars twist and turn as they do. Their eyes shine a solid, but faint yellow, as a flashlight. Upon their back, an enormous shield, also full of strange mechanisms, and a pale glow.

runs his fingers over the stone of the slab he awoke on, deep in concentration. His brow furrows with intensity as he wills himself to know something, anything, about the rock or how it could have been used. He stumbles slightly as he gets off the slab and to his feet, but eventually they guide him towards the middle of the room.

says, “”That’s the million lucre question of the hour, it would seem.””

sweeps his head side to side, eyes roaming the room. Another bit of pause before, roughly: “Door?”

says, “There is no song to this place that I can hear. We should move carefully.”

says, “glances sharply at the metal…person…at that.”

says, “Well… be careful enough for two of us! I’m taking a look around.”

moves to the door, shield first.

heads for the door, his short, faintly-azure hair playing at the wind it displaces. The tattered mantle across his shoulders does not play- too heavy a fabric- but it does flutter.

closes his eyes, jaw tightening…his ears shift just a little, wolf-like, as he listens; he breathes deep, nostrils flaring as he scents.

places a hand on the door, and pushes.

while no one is paying very much attention to her at all, she checks a small purse beneath her cloak, then stands and watches as the other gather near the door, head tilted. She takes one step towards the person with the ears of a wolf, then stops.

immediately swivels his head towards the lithe woman. His eyes open, meeting hers directly. “…yes?”

She shakes her head, “I apologize. I thought–there was something familiar, but.” She gestures to the door, which seems more important.

frowns, a little–his eyes take her in, slowly but not…ungently. “Hm.” He nods, and turns his attention to the door, and the hall beyond.

nods at The Awoken, and continues through the door.

moves through the doorway and begins to walk down the corridor. If he has any fear or hesitation about his course of action, his bouncy gait doesn’t betray it.

says, “”This doesn’t seem like any place I’ve ever seen or heard of before.” ”

snorts softly. “No.”

‘s boots clack, clack, clack across the shining floor, gaining confidence.

says, “I have seen many years pass, but never the likes of one such as yourself. You must hail from lands far beyond Queenstown.”

moves to the door to follow–but pauses, a small gesture of his hand seeming to say ‘after you’ to those still in the room.

says, “If you say so. If I’m being honest, my head is still swimming. It’s a lot to take in all at once. I’d introduce myself, but…” He shrugs and smiles, although a little sadly.

finds the way this place looks unsettling, the symmetry and shine of it all. She looks at The Hunter, with his spear, and The Wolf-Priest and his gesture of invitation. “Thank you,” she says, then goes through the door.

gives a small shrug and nod to the Wolf-Priest. If he wants to hold up the rearguard, he’s welcome to it.

arches his eyebrow silently at the Hunter’s back, then–with a long look back at the room they all woke up in–he follows behind, eyes watchful, left hand resting lightly on the hilt of one of his blades.

, as she walks, looks at The Hunter, and asks, “You said this wasn’t like any place you’ve seen or heard of before. What were those places like?”

says, “Queenstown is… well, it’s busy. It’s loud. It’s messy. You’d never mix up a place so… sterile with it. As for the farmlands… I can’t think of any that make use of large, elaborate stone structures rather than wood or metal. ”

puts the hand not holding his spear to his chin. “Maybe a stone-oven here and there, but nothing like this.”

says, “No. And nothing built this…same-like either. Sprawling and unpredictable, Queenstown. This…is too planned. There is either no danger here, or far more of it.”

speaks without turning around, continuing down the corridor. “Do the bells toll for danger? Or for thee?”

narrows his eyes slightly. “You.” Nods at Hunter. “You.” Nods at the Knight. “Same?”

says, “I ASSUME we’re both Hunters. Not many Endjinn cooks or farmers out there.” He glances to the Clockwork Knight questioningly, none the less.”

says, “I…hope so. I am afraid that something has gone awry. I remember very little specifically. Sprawling streets, steam, fire, and metal. Fiends. Friends…but only their shadows. I remember the danger. Less hunting. More…protecting.”

says, “Ah. a guardsmen then? Close enough, all things considered.”

works his mouth and tries again–his words sound…stilted, somehow, and his baritone is growl-edged. “Same place?”

says, “A Guard for Hunters. The fiends were dangerous. I hoped to…lessen danger.”

says, “It seems so. And you? Same place?”

almost seems to flinch a little, though neither his stride nor his eye-scan is interrupted. “No.”

tips his chin with his free hand again, then hits it to his chest in realization a moment later. “Ah! You mean to say, you do not remember Queenstown or the other things we mention… at all?”

shakes his head, speaking almost to himself. “No.”

does not recognize the name Queensdown, and while she remembers buildings of wood and metal, she things of green, growing things and the pulse of sunlight. She has never heard the term Endjinn before either. She glances back at Wolf-Priest. “Do you … remember forests? And sunlight? And … trees, but more than that?”

DOES stop now, for a long beat, staring directly at the Saint, mouth working before his steps resume. His voice sounds like it’s rolled in gravel. “…yes.”

shakes his head. Queenstown is unknown to him, as are these lush forests. “I mostly remember… the smell of old books. Dusty corners in rooms that barely saw use in a labyrinthine, sprawling mess of an academy. The sounds of rushing water.”

stops, crosses his arms, and bows his head, closing his eyes in thought. He nods once, twice… and raises his head once more.

squints. “Actually, I think some of those rooms looked like the one we woke up in. I remember the word warding-stone. It’s used in magic. Now that we’re in this hallway, I’m quite certain I’ve never been here before, but something about that room… it seemed like something people from my home might use.”

laughs at the idea of a massive, labyrinthine library existing in Queenstown that wasn’t also in constant danger of exploding.

says, “”So it seems a though we’re from… at least three separate places that have never heard of the others before, somehow. I wonder how that could be possible.””

gives the Wolf-Priest a quick smile, and says, “That’s what I remember as well,” before the Archivist’s words truly sink in. Warding-stone. Magic. An academy. This too is unfamiliar.

turns to the Archivist. Staring, unblinking, with those vivid azure eyes, he asks, “Do you remember emotion? Does your heart beat with a feeling?”

seems taken aback momentarily by the intensity of the question, but relaxes into a nod. “I remember… togetherness. Belonging. Rejection, too. Right now, I mostly feel confused, but comforted by the certainty of knowing that magic was involved in whatever just happened to us.” ⁂

says, “As for how it could be possible… I don’t know. For all the studying I remember, I think I would know if we had discovered worlds beyond what we know. Though if someone were aware of these worlds, spent enough time studying them and their properties, and was sufficiently magically powerful… I don’t see why it would be impossible. It’s impossible to fathom what it would mean, but not impossible to fathom someone who would spend the time figuring it out. 🙧*

slows, both hands on his blade-hilts now, eyes snapping towards the source of the sound.

• smiles. *“That’s good! Hold onto it. It may be all you have, at some point.”

straightens himself up and moves with confident purpose. He won’t let whoever this is catch him on the back foot.

finds the saber sheathed at her side and steps to the side, pressing her back to the hallway wall, watching.

Steel scrapes, as the Knight’s body rotates plates to free the massive shield from their back. They bring it to ready, steam venting slightly faster.

says, “”Hail!””

turns back to face the progression of the hallway, and toward the sound. He resumes his stride.

is heard before he’s seen; there’s a junction in the corridor in front of you, so you can’t -see- him until he’s very much and suddenly present - an imposing figure in ornate armor and soft fabric that looks both deeply ornamental - or ritual attire - and functional at the same time. All of it - all of HIM, maybe, you can’t be sure - is softly glowing like the stonework was. He sees you all - his eyes flicker between the six of you, and he BEAMS, in joy and in relief, overtaking what you vaguely feel is a very regular expression of furrow-browed Concern. His voice is deep, rich, oddly echoing in your ears: “Oh. It WORKED. I am so sorry I was not there to greet you, friends. I am so relieved to finally meet you. I am the Architect, and this is the Sanctuary. I am sure you have… many questions for me.”

says, “You crossed off two of them before I could remove them from the bag, Mr. Architect!”

says, “I would have more, had I more recollection of what last I did. How did you bring us to this place, from lands so far apart?”

looks to the Clockwork-Knight - to all of them, really, and the joy faces from his face; his light almost seems to dim perceptibly. “…the lands you called home are no more. The Sanctuary remains. I have done what I can to preserve what life I could preserve here, against the intercession of the Void. To make a home for the lives which I could save.”

drops their shield

blinks. “What do you mean, they are no more? What happened to them? To us?”

turns ashen beneath his weathered tan–he stands stark still, motionless save for a clenching of his jaw as he stares at the Architect, and the way his knuckles go white on his blade-hilts.

narrows his eyes slightly, before relaxing both them and his grip on his spear. “I feel like this is going to be a conversation best held not in the middle of a hallway, and perhaps with a keg or two.”

frowns, and moves her hand from her saber to again check the small purse beneath her cloak. “I too would be interested in this story.”

turns to look over his shoulder to the Archivist and gives a small shrug in sympathy.

nods. There is a tremendous certainty to all of his movements, but he seems a little less sure how to handle conversations with strangers, let alone conversations involving informing them of having slept through an apparent apocalypse. “…you are correct, I am sorry. It has been some time since there have been guests. Please follow me? There is, not far from here, a room more suitable for…” …he looks vaguely-apologetic about just dropping that kind of thing without any preamble.

says, “I was not made to be saved while my comrades perished. There must be something more to be done. Please…explain further.”

runs a hand along the table as he passes by it, stops at the edge of a couch, resting his knuckles on the upholstery.

places a hand on the Clockwork Knight’s shoulder as they walk. And a pat, before moving to take a seat. He drains the glass of wine quickly, before moving onto the water more slowly.

takes neither chair nor couch, but tries to lean against a wall–then recoils from the perfectly smooth coldness of it with a visible expression of revulsion. He settles for crouching by the wall, his coat-skirt pooled around his feet like blood.

gently taps his tail on one of the couches to test its softness, and, seeming satisfied, takes a seat. His head is on a swivel, drinking in as much information as possible from the scenery around him.

says, “At least you did something, right, Mr. Architect?”

dilutes her glass of wine with water, and then takes some bread and grapes and takes a seat in one of the chairs, crossing her legs underneath her as she sits.

starts to mutter something under his breath, but stops abruptly halfway through, seeming to think the better of it, and takes an immediate and immense interest in the drink in front of him.

seats himself somewhere with an eye-line to the door, and does not partake of the refreshments. “There are… were… worlds other than the world that you knew. Five of them. Almachadta-” -he nods to the Wolf-Priest and the Sword-Saint. “Samudra,” and here he nods to the Archivist. “The Beast.” -the Clockwork Knight and Hunter. “Mu, and finally Valaïs.” He glances, briefly, towards the Awoken, then continues. “They were… my creations. Spun of magic. And they have been destroyed. Out of jealousy. There is a being who destroys, where I create. I strove against him, and… this is what remains, and for my inability to protect all whom you held dear… I am, truly, sorry. I could only salvage so much. Not… enough.”

says, “You’re… God?”

stares openly at the Architect, lip starting to curl, a little. “You. Made the…world.” He starts to laugh, mirthlessly, almost inaudibly–more of a wheeze than anything. “Lies.” He rises in a swift, smooth motion, upper lip peeling back off fangs, fingers tightening on hilts.

says, “You…lit the fires of the Deepforge?”

lets out a tittering, nervous laugh that dies as he looks at the somber faces around the room. “Come on. You can’t really expect us to just… believe that. Can you? All we know for sure is that we woke up here. I refuse to believe it’s all just… gone. Just because you say it is. This is just some prank, right? It has to be. I saw the warding-stone. Whose old classroom did you borrow?”

frowns. “I would not… call myself so. A builder. A scientist. An architect–” -he looks up, and makes no motion against the Wolf-Priest, shows no fear. Just sorrow. “Made, and could not preserve. Would that it were not thus.”

takes a step towards the Architect, a soft rumbling growl starting to spill from his throat, from deep in his chest–and then he pauses, as if caught by thought, or memory. His eyes close, then open again–still harsh, but less…disbelieving. “The…Song.”

shoves a piece of bread into his mouth with a nod, looking bizarrely unperturbed by anything being said at the moment.

says, “I hear no song in my heart. I do not wish to believe this. But I have always felt the heart of…The Beast within me. ” ⁂

says, “There is no reasoning with this fiend? Nothing you can build to stop it? ” 🙧

looks up at the Wolf-Priest. “The Song, and the Stillness within which it resonated. I am… their instrument. But there was discord within the Song. The Omniclast. He exists no longer. I have banished him from reality, I have saved all that I could.” He leans back in his chair. “This Sanctuary, nestled in the Void-Between-Worlds.”

says, “tilts his head. “Are you finished with making things?””

holds out his hand, focuses briefly. There is a glowing brick of warding-stone in his hand, where there previously was not one. He hands it to the Archivist. “I will never be finished creating, but I have been left with very little. It has been lonely work. The Void itself echoes with the Omniclast’s last scream; it tries to tear apart what I have managed to preserve.”

scours his memory. Song…? Stillness? These words…

looks down at the brick, then up at the Architect. “Can we kill it?”

giggles delightedly. “What a straightforward solution!”

swallows the bread in his mouth before pondering outloud, “Kill a… remnant of a memory…?” Then starts to laugh, perhaps with more amusement than fits the current atmosphere.

holds the warding-stone in his hands, inspecting it. Surely this must have been a trick of some kind? But as he turns the stone over in his hand and it does not fade or dissipate, he swallows hard. If this is true… could it really be…?

takes a sip of her watered down wine, “or, if not kill it, I’m sure there’s something we can do. A quest, perhaps?”

curls his lip at the Hunter. “It existed. Discord. Disharmony. Those makers. Removed, from the weave.”

says, “Your…Omniclast…could only destroy? Or chose to?”

shakes his head a few times to quiet the laugh, before gesturing to the Wolf-Priest. “Ah, no, sorry. No disrespect, it just… I feel like something about the comment was this close to making me remember something, but I’ve lost it now. I don’t see why a God-like being couldn’t kill a concept.”

looks up, gravely, towards the Wolf-Priest. “If you could kill the Omniclast in a way which I could not? I would lend you all the strength available to me. As things stand, I… it is not simple for an entity like myself to admit that I need help. And I make no demands upon you. I reached into the ruins of the worlds-that-were, and pulled you here, and here I offer you sanctuary. However, the Void presses on me from all sides, and even I can only be in one place at a time. And the Omniclast’s echoes throughout the Void? They can be killed, yes.”

lowers his head and closes his eyes, thinking. Then: “If we kill them. Kill it.” His eyes open and he stares at the Architect. “Can…you make…them. Again?”

says, “It is my most fervent hope, yes. Nothing would be… as it was. But they would Be, again.”

looks to the Architect with pleading, unblinking eyes. “Could you show us? Let us hear the discord.”

sharpens his eyes. There’s a glint of something dangerous and vengeful in them that seems to make his whole face shift. “If you mean to tell me I have the chance to take revenge on the thing which destroyed my home, I intend to take it.”

glances, again, at the Awoken, expression unreadable until there’s a faint smile. “It will make itself known, if you wish to help me fight it. I have crafted Fiends that watch the perimeter of the Sanctuary, but I cannot expand the sealed space alone.”

says, “When you say nothing would be as it was, what do you mean?”

says, “If you craft a vessel of clay, fire it, glaze it, carry water in it, behold it, day to day, and then it is smashed to ostraka, and you create another, inspired by its design and in its memory…”

bows his head, shoulders seeming to sag with unbearable weight for a long moment.

says, “The new vessel would not be as the old vessel was. But it would be beautiful, and it would carry water, yes? This is what I would ask you to help me create, here.”

says, “There is no understanding with violence. Yet Human and Fiend spring alike to it. If there is no other recourse, then I will protect you in your fight against this…Void.”

*“So… are /we/ reconsituted vessels?” He traces a finger along the armrest of a couch.*

turns to look pointedly at the Architect while popping grapes into his mouth. “More bluntly: the rough shape of the worlds return, but our Clans are forever lost.”

says, “I can’t say I’m done with the questions I have for you. But I believe that in this case, seeing would at least be one step closer to believing.”

• nods towards the Clockwork Knight. “You are all versed in the Rite, in a way that none of the souls I managed to save in my desperation were. You can do what they cannot.” And then, again, with sorrow, towards the Hunter. *“…yes. I do not know how much you recall of the worlds that were, but they are lost to us now. It remains to see what can be built anew.”

says, “”Hmm… Ah, so you did manage to save more than simply the six of us, then?””

says, “So there are more than just six.”

lifts his head, at that idea. A little of the straightness returns to his spine.

nods, again. “Yes. There are others here, who recall very little at all of the lives they led. It is they who I -must- protect while I fashion something anew.”

says, “”That is good to hear! Honestly, I was not getting a great first impression of you based off the idea that the Architect of five worlds somehow only managed to salvage six people, missing one world entirely… but if that’s not the case after all… well. Hm.” The Hunter rolls his head around his shoulders, before picking up another glass of wine and downing it. “If what you wanted from us, specifically, was people to run the Rite, I’m in.”

looks up. “These bodies are your own; your skills at the Rite your own as well. As the Kushtaka observed earlier,” -and he glances to the Archivist- “-it took much experimentation with the swirling echoes of the worlds-that-were to be able to bring you here.”

says, “Is that. Why we…forget?”

picks his shield back up. “A shield, now. Perhaps a bridge once more.”

nods. “Yes. The others… the Sanctuary, effectively, is all they knew. It is… selfish, perhaps. But I think that a part of me wished to be able to remember the worlds with someone other than myself. I do not know.”

*“Ah.” His shoulders sag a little, once more, but…he closes his eyes, inhales…exhales. Presses a hand to his chest for one heartbeat…two…then he lifts his head, and his shoulders and spine slide back into straightness. *“I will fight.”

says, “And…what world will you make next? Another, full of danger, fire, metal, and fiends? ”

says, “says, “You make no demands, but do you have expectations?” There’s another question he’s leaving out.”

looks… relieved. The relief of someone who is unaccustomed to throwing the dice, or relying on others. Turns towards the Clockwork Knight. “Mmm. A question I have asked myself many times. I look around myself, at the Sanctuary I have built. It is pristine, and within the bounds of the fane, it is safe. I wonder if this is the only world I ought to have ever built, having learnt valuable lessons about the costs of dynamism. It is not a question I will make the mistake of answering alone, this time.”

stands taller. Their face unchanging, but they seem pleased enough with the answer.

frowns slightly, eyes drifting around the cold, symmetrical stone.

says, “As far as expectations…? I can only humbly -ask- of you to help me, insofar as you are capable and willing. Were you to say no, I would offer you haven here, look back to what remains of the worlds-that-were, try to coax other lives free of the morass. Continue to hope to succeed. What more can I do?”

has the exact opposite reaction, looking displeased. “The entirely of the world, being this hallow and empty, this sterile and lifeless, this boring…?”

glances at the Hunter, nodding fractionally.

smiles warmly. “Nothing will be the same. Nothing.”

very, very briefly, looks a little stricken, but takes it in stride. “People here seem to like it. But it is not a decision I would wish to make alone.”

says, “Are you prepared for that?”

says, “”I suppose if it’s all they’ve ever known… then again, I guess it’s not as if we’ve seen then entire… compound…? Whatever this is. Maybe there’s fun and interesting things elsewhere.””

looks at the Awoken, face as still as carven wood, then around the room again, so perfect and so cold. His mouth twists, just a little. “Yes.”

mutters to himself, “We may not have a choice but to be.”

does not look away from her mostly-full glass. “It’s a very compelling story you’ve told us. Destruction, near-total, a way to salvage what we can, and maybe if we’re very lucky a new beginning, possibly a better world.” She smiles, briefly, before her expression falls flat again. She doesn’t trust The Architect. As a storyteller, she’s generally suspicious of other storytellers.

says, “”I prefer to have a better sense of my role before I step onto the stage.””

looks like he’s listening to something distantly, for a brief moment, until the Sword-Saint speaks and he focuses on her words. Smiles. “A fair thing to want. Would a glimpse of the foe satisfy your curiosity for the moment? I would like you to understand what I have been up against.”

claps his hands together. “Let’s hear it!”

shrugs. “What’s a story without a villain?”

stands. “The Fiends tell me that the Void is attempting to intercede.” He looks towards the nearest wall, places his hand against it, and the structure of the wall warps and shifts around his hand, recrystallising itself into a hingeless, handle-less door. He pushes on it, and it opens outward. ⁂

says, “”Alright, that’s kind of cool.””

sets aside her wine and shoves another bit of bread in her mouth before standing to go peer out the door, but before that she goes over to The Awakened. “You don’t seem at all bothered by any of this.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question, but it sort of is.

shoves two more large slices of breath into his mouth before grabbing his spear and following the Architect into the… Expanse…? Looks thoughtfully at the… creature opposed to the fiend and raises an eyebrow.

walks to the door, then through it, planting booted feet in the strange soil. He doesn’t seem disturbed by the…thing…beyond the field. If anything, his shoulders seem to loosen, his hands resting comfortably on blade-hilts. Breathe in–breathe out–and the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips….

says, “When you start from nothing, everything is up,” nodding to the Sword-Saint. “I only remember the feeling of home.”

chews thoughtfully as his eyes finally align with what’s going on, idly spinning his spear all the while. “Well, it won’t be the first time I’ve killed strange abyssal abominations.” He slams the butt of the spear into the ground once, then confidently strides beyond the field.

seems to move almost automatically toward the field. At first, it’s the cautious footsteps of curiosity, but as he continues to approach the bounce leaves his walk and he moves with the strong, poised certainty of a seasoned combatant.

says, “And I believe in myself to make that once more. But I don’t guarantee it’ll be what anyone expects.”

raises their shield and strides forward, smoke beginning to trail from their vents.

kneels, gracefully, bowing his head, fingers digging into the strange earth…and then he rises in one fluid push, his face softer…serene. Silver flashes as his blades seem to jump into his hands, spinning in his fingers before settling into a reverse grip…and he walks into the field unflinchingly.

says, “Don’t get caught in the web of truth and lies, and cut your way through!” He charges through the constructed door, towards the void entity!

breaks into a dash, crouching low–suddenly he leaps, blades flashing, scoring a gouge against the Void Emanation! He whirls into another gouging strike with his second blade, then kicks off from the thing, spinning away to a safer distance, one blade raised in guard.

takes a sidelong look at the three lanes, assessing the threat. In a flash, he strikes at the Void Sussurus in the right lane before turning his steely gaze back to the Void Sussurus and Void Emnant in his own lane, striking them with a blinding glare that forces them to discard Strangling Darkness and Invisible Chains, respectively.

.

says, “reaches down to the ground and murmurs something unintelligible. As she stands, the not-sand, not-snow rises with her and spreads around her in a shimmering shield. Some of the sand-snow curls around the Hunter as well.”

dashes forward in swooping motions around the center Emanant and Sussurus, and his arm flicks out- a brilliant red blade forms in his hand, and gouges burning cuts into the entities!

waves his arm, and the blade dissolves.

says, “”Hmm…””

‘s armor shifts and spins, briefly exposing a shining core. A bright yellow flash fills the lane, pushing back the Void and coalescing around The Archivist.

rolls his head around on his shoulders a few times. “Alright. Everyone good and warmed up? You weird little things ready to die? Good, I’m going in.” The Hunter slams his spear into the ground once, before thrust the palm of his free hand out towards the Suss in his lane and bombarding it with two twin beams of black light, which explode on contact.

slight correction:

says, “lets loose a wordless yell, almost musical, but not quite. Everyone takes a little bit of heart.”

winds up and rushes towards the Void Sussurus. Their steel fist collides with…whatever this nightmare is made of, and gains glorious purchase.

kicks one back with a predatory grin.

looks to the Wolf-Priest with a smirk. “Hey. Got something hot in mind?”

says, “glances back at the Awoken, eyebrow flicking up…and gives just a hint of a smile. “Go.””

draws his finger across the air, an azure trail following it. “Then… show us!!” He snaps his fingers, and a blue aura bursts around the Wolf-Priest, bringing a burst of insight!

briefly closes his eyes as the energy surges through him…and then gives a smile full of fang, as green motes of light–like sunlight seen through trees–start to flicker into life around him.

spins his spear around once before taking a wide, wild swing at the remaining void creature in front of him. He then ducks low and sweeps it with his leg before it can recover, before hopping back and spinning his spear again.

also forgot war cry, so that’s 2 more damage. Sorry!

says, “takes a brief moment to assess The Hunter with admiration. “Nicely done.””

says, “It’s what I do. I’ll head left. “ He then dashes to the left lane as the rightmost one collapses.”

inhales, causing the leaf-green lights around him to flare and sparkle–then swipes his blades through the the verdant energy. It seems to sink into the blades, covering them with glowing etchings that look like roots or vines…and then with a spinning windup, he STABS both blades into the Sussurus!

dips into the shadows for a brief moment and reappears beside the Void Sussurus, dealing it a telling blow!

says, “Go on, go on!” as he waves a hand at the Wolf-Priest. “You’re not at the pinnacle yet!”

slashes through the green flickers again, using up the last of them…but his blades are glowing bright, and with a roar he plunges them deep into the Void-thing, Flourishing energy pushing through it like roots breaking up bedrock.

(whoops, forgot)

lumbers toward the collapsing Void Enamant, wounding it with another slam of their fist. Weary, they place themselves between it and their new friend.

rolls his shoulders again, assessing how the battlefield has shifted since the start. “And now… the hunt is at an End.” The Hunter snaps his fingers, and an earsplitting burst of sound resonances through the void-creature from the inside out.

rocks back and forth on his heels until he loses his balance, tumbling forward- but it was a controlled tumble, and he rolls past the Enament, his arm flicking out to deliver a silvery strike across its middle!

takes a deep breath and holds it, closing his eyes. He’s listening…

says, “lets out a sharp bark of triumph–too much grief today for a full on howl. But he looks…happier. For the moment, at least.”

lows his head slightly, placing two fingers against his forehead from below for a moment before relaxing his stance as the Rite ends.

checks his blades, then sheathes them. He takes a breath–kneels briefly, hand in the strange soil. Then he rises, dusting off his hands. “So. Killable.”

says, “All of you. Very well done. Working together, you and I. I believe that we can reclaim a garden from this void.”

says, “”I see… you take the wild, untamed gnosis from the void and use that to weave.””

nods to himself, then the Wolf-Priest, then the Architect… then again to himself. “Not the worst impromptu hunting party I’ve ever been a part of. I can definitely work with this.”

walks over to the Hunter and claps him on the shoulder briefly. “Fought well.” He looks at the assembled group. “All.”

stands from the ground and dusts off the knees of his pants. He walks back toward the group.

nods to the Hunter. “That is… yes. What was taken from me, reclaimed.” He gestures, then, to the door that’s still open, leading back to the Sanctuary (which you can see, in the distance, although distance is hard to fathom here - a blue-and-silver tower, all elegant straight lines, rising in the distance.)

says, “With this reclaimed land, we are now known by the enemy.”

smiles. “But they would know of us one way or another, anyhow. So don’t worry about it!”

is worried about it. “Who is the enemy?”

says, “The dead guy, or some other one?”

says, “This…Void.”

says, “Whomever would create those void-fiends. They were made, with purpose.” He nods with certainty.

tilts his head at the Awoken. “It has no -mind-. Simply echoes of the Omniclast’s banishment, and the memory of scattered purpose. Rest now, and recover your strength. It will intercede again, and we will claw back more and more of that which was, and will be again.”

kicks the hilt of his spear off the ground and swings it across his shoulder, before turning and heading back for the tower.

says, “looks at the tower–sighs, his ears seeming to droop–and heads back alongside the Hunter.”

nods. She has questions, but needs some time alone to think. She follows the others.

says, “A kept hearth welcomes all on its own, a dungeon invokes solitude and imprisonment. A mind isn’t needed if the feeling is strong enough.” He turns and walks through the portal.

takes a long look out into the expanse of the Void before turning back and going through the portal.

says, “”You’re a strange person, you know that?””

cocks his head to the side. “Hmm?”

looks thoughtful. “…hunh. I suppose that’s true.” He follows up behind the six of you, closes the portal out behind him. It feels warmer in the Sanctuary than it did before, or maybe the outer edge was just very cold?

taps a finger ahead the back of his head, “You know… I’m actually not sure where I was going with that. Maybe you’re not strange, I have no idea what it was like where you came from.”

stops by the Sword-Saint’s room, on the way to his own. “Friend.”

gives him a bright smile, a little less controlled than any previous expression. “Am I?”

smiles, surprisingly…shyly…and shrugs. “Fought together. And, um…” He rubs the back of his head. “No name…?”

thanks their new friends for their bravery. They lumber off to a room. Well into the night you hear the sounds of hammering steel, as they repair the damage to their shell.

shakes her head. “I’ve been called the Sword-Saint for a long time, but that’s all I remember right now. You?”

looks down for a long moment, then shakes his head. “Wolf. Just…Wolf.”

*“Wolf, then. And yes, friends.” She bites her lip, considering, and then more softly. *“I agree with you. A world so well-ordered and without growing things feels. Off.”

nods, sharply. “It is…silent.” His face is still, but something in his eyes is…horrified.

doesn’t hear the absence as keenly as he seems to, but feels the wrongness somewhere, instinctively. “I’m not sure what we can rebuild, but I think … the six of us might find a way. I hope. I choose to hope.”

nods again, trying–just a little–to smile. “Yes….hope.” He moves to leave, then stops right before he leaves the door. “Saint? Later. Will you…tell me…what you remember?”

**“Yes. Later, I’ll tell you what I can. And I would be honored if you would tell me as well.”

nods. “Yes. I will.” He takes a deep breath, lets it go.

“Thank you.”

And then he’s gone to his room.

takes a long, deep breath, relaxing her shoulders, and shuts her own door.