Vivian Russel
Though the rose pillar bought time for the Sixty, she felt little relief at the sight of it. The battle raged on against the last Goliath Ratsins and there were far too many casualties. Rage had begun to boil in her blood. Indignation that her people were being harmed. Kai did his best to fulfill his promise. Zipping about the battlefield to extra provide force where it was needed. Retrieving the wounded when he could. He was only one man, a glorious man, but not enough to keep everyone alive.
Unacceptable.
Vivian released a heavy breath through her teeth. Feeling like it was steam bursting free. Looking at this unnecessary turmoil of conflict, she decreed, “If you want to get something done right, you got to get your hands dirty.” Harsh red-gold light rose from her skin, transforming into ghastly flames around the eyes and fists.
Kai, she thought and suddenly he was there beside her in a burst of harsh golden illumination. They shared a glance of communication. Vivian glared dissatisfaction and Kai bowed with a grin of acceptance.
Together, they charged into the reckless fury at the heart of the Sixty’s formation.
Her scorching eyes narrowed upon the first Ratsin in the way. The terrible thing stood surrounded, but savage enough that this seemed to matter too little. Azure covered claws swung and blood splashed the air. In a berserk state, monsters were proving even harder to put down. Vivian snarled. She was completely and utterly done with all of this.
“No more,” echoed in the wrathful healer’s head down to the core of her and back again. A song of rage and love sprung from those grim lips.
“Harm Befalls Mine,
Bloodshed Despite Me,
Moaning For My Aid,
One Hand Preserves, One Hand Ruins,
Rise Mended, My Hearts,
All Foes Ravaged Before Me,
Destroy All But Mine
Healer’s Wrathful Dirge!”
With each word and tone, Vivian’s burnished Mana spread outwards. Rays of fractured light embossed with dual intent. When the light shone on allies, there was relief. Where it touched foe, rending pain. The Ratsins burned and the Sixty rose with mended. The eyes of her people blazed with new life. Energized by Vivian’s love and Mana. There were eager smiles as eyes picked out the next move. The monsters could only roll on the ground, the golden light sinking deeper inside.
Before any other could act, the wrathful healer placed a claim on one of the Ratsin. Thrusting her mace arrogantly. Growling others away, Vivian said to Kai, “This one’s ours!”
Offering no dispute, the prideful acolyte disappeared in a streak of light. An explosion rocked the monsters off its feet and she looked at the mace in dissatisfaction. It was too small. The desire for something bigger elicited a prayer and promise. Vivian was about to make due when something inside reacted to the wish. Deep inside where the Heartsong blew. She reached for it, without hesitation.
Burnished light burst from the weapon in hand. It became unwieldy for one hand. Appearing larger and to be made of light. The metal mace lay in the middle as the core.
A very satisfied smile split her face. Though the expression was no less angry. Vivian charged forward enthusiastically, gripping the two-handed maul. Kai’s attack had planted the Goliath Ratsin to the ground and she took a loving advantage of it. Her holy maul came down upon the unsuspecting head of the rat. There was a terrible crack with a wrathful blaze of illumination.
The monster snarled liquidly as it jerked away from the impact. From a crouch, the beast looked down at her drunkenly. Focus wavering as if there were multiple of the wrathful healer, but still wanting to fight. It screeched at her, azure energy trickling off in thicker waves. Vivian walked into the mad Mana unmolested. Her own power brilliantly radiated outwards in an aura of protection.
Raising her maul for another attack, she roared each word precisely, “No more! I am going to fucking tear you apart! You fucking piece of shit! NO MORE!”
Her concern for healing fell away as the desire to harm rose. Vivian joined in the fury and beat of battle. When the beast counterattacked, there was Kai. His mace twirling to distract, to throw off any retaliation. Protecting the wrathful healer while she rampaged. Each hit of the blunt weapon caused a wave of golden red Mana. The Ratsin suffered, but once again her intent to help flowed through the energy. Washing away wounds of the Sixty, strengthening resolves those close by.
Molly St Claire
She walked the battlefield alone. Since the betrayal, her desire to work closely with anyone had withered away. Into the shadows, the acolyte of curses returned. It was a preferable place for her. Stepping out into the light had been necessary at the time, but the vulnerability had proven to be sharp this time. Through either need or his bad influence, she had stayed out in the open too long. Allowed Molly to blur that line that divided her from the world.
Then, as life often did, punishment fell upon her for it. A lesson that Molly felt was maybe something she was doomed to be relearned forever. Her heart was too soft. Her sense of duty was too great. The cycle wouldn’t ever end. It wasn’t in her to not right wrongs. Like an impulse to correct a crooked painting, there was only relief once everything was proper. So, to the shadows, she faded. Safe in the comfort of being forgotten at the side of the stage. Her heart safely unblemished.
Resolved to do her work alone once again, she refused to join another team. A polite, but firm negative to sufficiently end any such conversations. Molly successfully disconnected. Even her previous group was dissuaded from pressing the issue by a perfectly measured tone of disdain. Her contempt for him was made very clear. Vacating the Council, while somewhat tempting, was out of the question. It was the heart of power for the Sixty and, frankly, Malachi wouldn’t allow it. One an insurmountable obstacle and the other an unchangeable fact. Neither of those were things she wanted to change anyways. Not that.
Being a wandering asset fitted her just fine. The teams projected the most force and the acolyte of curses slipped contently between them. Placing herself where the greatest need was. Tipping the scales by binding and debilitating the Ratsins. There was an almost peaceful rhythm to the battle for Molly. Just drifting to the flow of violence. Striking at the peaks and stepping away on the lows. Even as the Titan slowly advanced under a full barrage, the smoothness of the rhythm never left her. The rose pillar changed the tune.
Azure and rose light combed to shift the tint of the Giant’s Lair to that of bruised purple. Molly noted this with mild amusement as she took in the tactical situation. Her eyes saw what Vincent had done to make the pillar. His Mana had been imbued with the very concept of hold and the swordsman had given his life willingly to solidify the actualization. Impressive results, but more surprising was who had made the sacrifice. She made a personal note to alter her dossier, the mental one and the physical one, with the new variable.
The Goliath Ratsins had gone wild, but the priorities hadn't changed. Those survivors needed to be swept away before The Titan could get free. Molly took a step towards the beast, purple Mana swirled around like threads cruising about underwater. Her mind on calculating the best enfeeblements to speed up the fight. A spark of thought went off. It traced to one of the thin tendrils of Mana that surrounded the acolyte of curses. The thread detected movement where her eyes found nothing.
There was a surge of movement, something unseen brushing several threads at once. Molly leaped to the side and ran before turning back to see the air blurred with azure streaks where she had been a moment before. Her eyes darted about to track the invisible threat. She quietly praised her whiskers, as her mind (annoyingly) insisted on thinking of them. A boon of stepping back had been an increased amount of time to focus on her manual manipulation of Mana. Studying with Damian’s tips had resulted in several new tricks.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Gathering a pool of Mana in hand, she instilled the concept of disruption within. Her hand lashed out with the prepared energy like splashing out paint from a can. A crude working. Purple Mana spread outwards and there was a spray of sparks. A dark figure appeared in the conflux of energies. Azure light flashed revealing the mad visage of a Goliath Ratsin. It howled as reality crumbled and pulled the monster from view once more.
Her tendrils sent a burst of information and Molly forced her body to move. The massive form came at her but the whiskers gave the acolyte of curses just enough warning. Moreover, it gave her a perfect impression of the invisible monster so that she could slip through the massive limbs to safety. To an outside observer, she appeared to dance alone in the heart of a cyclone of blue flashes.
She felt crowded and suffocated. Thinking of the grotesquely muscular Ratsin scrabbling about enraged her. Being pushed around by brawn, a feeling she could not tolerate. Molly reached into her power to bring forth devastation. The two of them fell into a dance, the beast pursued and she sang.
“I Am The Power,
You Are An Affront,
Scatter And Be Lost,
Revoke Life!”
Molly’s shadow quivered and thickened as the words echoed. As the shade began to form, she commanded the threads of Mana that hovered around her. A storm of purple strings slammed into nothing, disrupting the distortion of reality. Azure sparks illuminated the spots where the Ratsin’s cloak began to dissolve. Her enchanted shadow dove forward and entered the living beast. Its breath caught, the body growing very still.
The acolyte of curses felt the spell tearing at the very life force of the monster, but knew quickly the spell wouldn’t be enough. This wasn’t a bitter spirit clinging to a body and a remnant of life. A fully fleshed being was a different magnitude of effort. Calling her Mana into sharp claws, Molly bloodily climbed up the torso of the frozen monster. The Goliath Ratsin began to shutter weakling as it fought the life devouring curse.
Unhurried, she perched herself with one claw anchoring her above the heart. With the other hand, the cool-eyed woman prepared fury. Taking a page from the Sister’s book to create an energy of distilled hate. Molly invoked him to stir the emotional boil to the perfect volatile concentrate. Malevolent energy gleamed from the claws as the acolyte of curses plunged her hand into the flesh of the Ratsin. Driving deeply for the heart until she could feel the rapid rhythm of the beast. The organ seized as the spiteful curse was injected directly.
Monitoring the flow of her curses and the monster’s life, Moly knew the moment it died. The Goliath Ratsin went limp before falling backward. She rode the weight down, still latched onto the flesh. When the acolyte of curses was about to pull free, there was a ping of strange magic in the damaged heart. It was so sudden and complex that she caught nothing of the construct. The only clear thing was that the dusting process had begun. A core was forming between her enchanted fingers.
She watched the subtle flow of Mana as the process began to send waves of effect through the monster’s body. Quickly claiming the flesh despite her mild attempts to alter it. Frowning at an instinct and a half-formed idea, Molly poured her influence into the seed of the new core. Her threads of Mana flowed down her hands into the corpse and throughout it. She overwhelmed the forming core and took its control for herself. Carefully, Molly tugged mentally at the threads she had woven. The body began to twitch at her experiments.
When the acolyte of curses put her feet back on solid ground, the Goliath Ratsin stood up. Its lifeless eyes stared at nothing. She tested her puppet, making it dance. Her control was perfect, but there were flaws in the movements. There was no time to fix the bindings, but she was already making thorough notes on how to do better next time.
Even noticing those flaws, Molly swelled with pride. Felling powerful. This was a breakthrough and she knew this new avenue was something she would excel in. The acolyte of curses allowed herself a couple of beats to celebrate. The gloom on her emotions retreated a bit.
Her attention turned back to the battlefield. The pink pillar of The Titan had begun to flicker. Azure flames reached out from tears, enlarging the holes in the containment. The king of monsters would soon be free. She spotted that two Goliath Ratsins remained. The idea of setting her asset against them was a pleasurable and amusing thought. Her puppet would smash through them. It would save the Sixty’s efforts for the one that needed it.
For the first time in days, Molly smiled.
Phelain Starr
Watching the undead giant smash the living one into the stone ground was an interesting experience. On one side, there was the dark amusement of making your enemies fight each other, and on the other side, he felt revulsion at seeing a lumbering corpse. Still, the dead Ratsin was getting it done. The arisen warrior had reluctantly stepped back to give the fighters space. His desire to leap in was strong, but the two massive hulks gave little openings for him to use. With frustration and an itchy palm, he watched with the others. Unable to participate.
The Sixty had formed a circle of watchers as the Goliath Ratsin was bashed over and over by the dead one. At first, there had been a struggle, but now the monster had gone limp. In time the rhythm of the undead stopped. It dropped the limp foe and stood up still. There was a surge in the crowd as several people moved in to confirm the kill. Phelain allowed them to pass by him. What drew his eyes instead was the collapsing rose pillar. There were great gaping holes in the construct, enough that The Titan now moved within the containment.
Phelain felt a rush of excitement that eclipsed that ever-present ball of nerves in his stomach. The monster king was breaking free. There were only moments. Soon the spotlight fight would begin.
A scan of the Sixty dampened his mood though. They weren’t ready. He saw it in their exhausted stances and distracted faces. The last giant had fallen, yet the formations were in complete disarray. There wasn’t the necessary time to get everyone in place before the pillar broke. In his mind, Phelain saw the disaster. The Titan leaping into the middle of them and the frantic panic that would follow. He swore quietly.
I can fix this, blazed Phelain within himself. The white flame rising for the occasion, from embers to a pyre. I can make that time for them. He rushed towards the escaping monster. At the outer edge of the crowd, Phelain came to a stop by the sudden grip on his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” asked Malachi. “Don’t run out there alone!”
“We need the time!” replied Phelain with a grin. “I can do that. You get everyone in place.”
Malachi frowned, “You’ll get…” The bearded leader of the Sixty trailed off as he did his own scan of the Sixty. “Dammit… alright… Buy us what time you can! But! Don’t be a hero, come back, ok?”
“O’ just worry about getting everyone ready,” winked Phelain before he got moving again. Over his shoulder, the arisen warrior yelled, “I’ll be fine!”
There was almost a skip in his step as he moved across the no man’s land between The Titan and the Sixty. Phelain’s mood and energy rose while the final Ratsin filled more of his view. Like a building in size, but one that felt like a skyscraper in the enclosed space. A massive thing that was hissing and glaring down at him. Those azure eyes menacingly locked on immediately. The clawing and burning of the containment became more furious. As if by coming close the arisen warrior had taken on all of the ire the monster king felt at being bound.
The sound of breaking glass gnashed in his ears. Loud cracks and tinklings of further shatterings. The rose pillar fell apart. Slowly buckling, the cage endured another second after another until The Titan stepped free. The pillar flickered before fading, casting the cavern back into an azure tint. The monster roared for freedom, rage, and triumph. Everything trembled and the very air scoured at the arisen warrior’s skin.
Its hateful gaze crushed down onto Phelain. He looked back, eye to eye, and grinned. There was no fear. The white fire burned warmly in his veins. A pleasant assurance that the impossible was possible. The Titan was shifting, a foot rising to stomp on him. His thoughts simply took that into account as he focused on the first step.
I need to get up there, thought Phelain. Trying to figure out how brought forth a single impression, Warner. The soaring brawler launching himself into the air at larger foes. White fire flared along his legs and burst forth the back like angel wings. He jumped.
Upwards along the descending leg, he arced up and landed upon the knee. White flames licked over The Titan’s flesh eliciting a snarl. It flinched and reflectively curled in a protective position around the knee while balancing on one foot. An abominable hand came to slap at Phelain and he leaped upwards again. Passing through the fingers to land on top of the palm as it impacted the knee. When the monster king flicked its hand to dislodge him, the arisen warrior used the momentum to fly at his target’s face.
Phelain felt like a shooting star. A streak of white light that ignited wherever it hoped. Vincent came to mind when he rose to be in line with The Titan’s face. The swordsman’s skill and moves so devoutly observed pass through his mind. White fire bloomed to life through his sword. A star shining with pure light forcing the Ratsin to turn away with stung eyes. He pulled deeply on the pyre within and let it flow freely. Two great swings to mimic his teacher’s skill. Crossed slashes sliced across the distance to burn an x into the face of the beast. It howled and he grinned.
Then his momentum came to an end. The arisen warrior was forced to consider his lack of planning follow through. There wasn't a plan for how to get down. He hadn’t thought about it at all before leaping. Desperately, Phelain looked for any options. Wings of white fire appeared in the corner of his eye. They flapped at his command and the fall slowed. His relief was great. There wasn’t enough strength to fly, but he could control the landing at least. Better than a fall.
The Titan, busy with Phelain’s fire, allowed him to land unmolested. It stubbled a few steps back as the monster king slapped at the white flames and azure power rose to smother the whole body. Once his feet hit firm ground and Phelain prepared to attack again. The steps for the next assault came to him easily. Efforts that he could make to buy more time. Everything got risker and risker, but that was the exciting part.
Next, I should go for the hand or the foot, thought Phelain. Change up the target, that’ll keep it guessing.
He was about to take a step when Malachi’s words floated back to him. Phelain grinned the concern away, but Hector’s voice was another matter. His partner desperately asking him to be careful, to not take every risk. The arisen warrior wasn’t sure what hooked into him more, the pleading eyes or how the tone seemed to suggest that asking at all was pointless. That he would always be reckless.
A step back. His glance flickered between the monster and the Sixty. Taking a moment to think, I could fight it alone again, but wasn’t the point to just buy time? I did that… that’s enough glory for me, right? It doesn’t have to be me. I run back in and maybe I do some good… crippled it some, but there’s only so much I can do alone. Better together, right?
Another step back and he turned away from The Titan. His mental image of Hector nodded happily. Phelain ran back to the Sixty. He slipped into the formation. Hector had a space ready for him. Malachi gave the orders and they moved as one to a better position. Everyone’s sights aimed at the snarling monster. Its mad stare narrowed on them. More orders were called and the air above filled with streaks of light.
The Sixty engaged The Titan.