Sanctuary

Faerie tales from beyond the veil to the streets of RhyDin

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Sanctuary

Post by JewellRavenlock »

Outside Sanctuary

Seamus stood in the mouth of an alley across from Sanctuary, pressed flat to the wall, one hand inside his long coat. He could see the side door dead ahead, across the street and heavily guarded. He glanced to the other knights crouching in the alley, the pair standing on the rooftop overhead, and the assembled heroes. He nodded, waiting for their signal.

The Scathachian drew a long, deep breath in through her nose. Her jaw was set. She'd been on many a battlefield before, but this was different. There seemed somehow to be more at stake than lives. She flicked the edge of her gray cloak aside, lending a brief shimmer to the steel hilts at her sides as she did. It was time. She looked briefly over her shoulder at Lirssa, Seamus and his knights and then nodded. With a forceful exhale, Isuelt was ready for whatever was about to be thrown at them. She took her first step, then the next, until she wasn't aware that she was crossing the street with a speedy gait, leading them to the nightclub. The pulsing rhythms could almost echo her own heartbeat as the tempo increased.

The Knight-Captain followed after Isuelt, then overtook her as he dashed across the street, joined by a pair of cloaked sylvan figures dropping down from a balcony. He picked an axe-wielding "bouncer" monitoring the long line to get into Sanctuary, the man's back turned while he inspected someone's backpack. He heard the knight too late. "What the -- ?" he began angrily, and didn't get to finish: Seamus' bastard sword came down like a hammer, burying itself deep in the mercenary's neck, spraying blood across the line. People screamed, panicked, and scattered. Another mercenary found himself grabbed by an agent of the House of Summer and his throat slit by a fine elven blade. The screams spread down the line, interspersed with shouts from the guards now rushing into the street to engage the growing number of attackers. The guards at the side door quickly cleared.

No curtain call, the word had passed to Lirssa just as the final number began. She changed on the way, arriving in her charcoals and greys, knives at her belt and in hand. At least she was warmed up, and more than a little ready to get back at those that had taken the stars from her, killed friends, and threatened members of her pantheon. Tucked into the pocket of the strike force, she kept light on her feet and swift to targets.

The time for swords will come, but not yet. Instead Issy drew her dagger from her belt and grasped it tightly with the razor blade just parallel to her forearm. Her teeth were firm within her jaw which jumped as she made short work of the first mercenary who approached her. She ducked his swing to the left and spun around with a swing of her own. But instead of landing a fist to his cheek, her dagger skidded deeply across his throat near the neck, slicing through the carotid artery. With the crowd running for cover, the mercenary's body dropped and Isuelt moved on, just behind Seamus. She saw two more coming at him and she was itching to shred into one of them.

* * *

One of the soldier-priests in the basement turned towards the Namekeeper. "Sir, trouble." The short, stocky, man lifted his head and looked past the two guards assigned to him this evening towards the blue haired woman standing in front of the stone slabs. He nodded.

The soldier turned towards his companions, "You know the drill. Mother Bless us." The others echoed him, "Mother Bless us." The blue haired woman didn't say anything.

* * *

Outside, Lirssa distracted a gun toting blaggard with a spinkick that turned him right in the path of a Knight, and then tucked back again behind Issy and Seamus, keeping low and out of the way of the space they needed to work.

"Arish! Jamie!" Seamus called over his shoulder, and two of the knights peeled off and fell in behind Issy and Lirssa. "Go ahead!" Seamus jerked his head to the side door. "I'll stay out here with the others, and keep them busy!" he grunted, ducking under a swing and whirling around to his attacker's other side.

The man attacking Seamus suddenly clawed at his eyes and started to choke, falling to his knees. Rand appeared from the shadows dressed in black and red and gave the others a nod, taking up the rear guard.


The battle rhythm of the Knights and Scathachian made Lirssa’s style of dash, dagger dig, dart away seem like a particularly lethal hummingbird among the seasoned warriors. As two came in to take on a Knight, she used her abilities to vault over the Knight, surprising the pair, and stabbed her daggers down deep into either side of the man's neck while the Knight jabbed just to her side, using her as cover, skewering the other guard. At Seamus's call, she spun back around to follow Issy.
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Post by JewellRavenlock »

Inside the Club

The information that Jewell had been taken took longer to reach Kalamere than he'd been happy about, but it had still given him time to arrive at the club about an hour ago. His hair unbound to hang loose and cover the slight curve of his ears, he could mix into the crowd easily enough. Stopping for a drink here, a dance there, always in the darker spot of the place, he worked his way gradually towards the back, taking a count of hostiles. On a different night that dance might have kept him on the floor a bit longer or at least marking this as a place to return to another time, but not this time.

Kalamere took little interest in the mass of lusty, writhing bodies, focusing his gaze on the guarded back stairwell, but he wasn’t the only one. There was a woman in black leather and a plague mask, wearing a backpack hanging over one shoulder; as soon as the mercenaries near the back stairwell touched their ears and moved away, the woman moved in that direction.

Each of the hostiles Kal had noted seemed to be moving away. He thought he might have heard the sound of some commotion from outside, but he couldn't be sure given the heavy beat and din of conversation in the club itself. As they moved off he could see only one obstacle remaining between himself and the back stairs. And the masked woman. The half-elf didn’t recognize her, but she wasn't someone he had marked as a hostile. Nor would he have marked her as a patron. He followed her with his gaze as she slipped into the back hall that led downstairs. Curious… He'd be on the watch for her later, right after he dealt with the last lookout between himself and the descent.

He spotted a tall, fair skinned woman dancing by herself at the edge of the crowd, thoroughly entranced by the music, or perhaps the drugs in the air. He paused to join her, a feigned drunkenness to his steps as he watched that last guard from the corner of his eye. As the man turned his head away to view another portion of the club, Kal stumbled away from his dance partner and into him, a lowered shoulder plowing the man down. Laughing he helped him up, even as he surreptitiously slid the poisoned knife back into its sheath. The man wobbled as the venom seeped into his blood and staggered to a post to hold onto while Kal made for the stairs.
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Post by JewellRavenlock »

Near the Side Door

Arranged between the side door and the pillars that separated it from the open part of the basement, where the stocky man who seemed to be calling the shots stood along with the priests casting their spell across RhyDin, was a line of soldiers, blades out, and ready, it seemed, to kill and die in defense of their cause. The commotion caused one or two to look askance at the others, but they had their orders, and took a tighter grip on their weapons as the attackers drew closer.

A sharp nod to Seamus as she pushed her way into the side door, Issy was met almost immediately by a tall man with a firearm. He seemed surprised to find the Scathachian in front of him so quickly and before he could fire a shot, Isuelt grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward only to slash deeply across the man's throat. As she pushed him back against the wall just inside the door, she watched him die with his mouth hung lamely open and his life spilling out over her daggered hand. When he finally fell, she pushed him as far as she could to open the passageway for the others, they'd need it. There was no more element of surprise. She shook out her hand, blood spattering to the floor, her dagger was ready for more. The dagger would have its moment a while longer before her twin blades came out.

It took a moment for Lirssa to orient herself with the heady beat and tangible picking at the shields of her gift. She could sense it like a bitter tang of rust eating away at a steel wall. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she twirled her daggers as a means to shake off the sensation, not as an ego tripping flourish. Relying on Issy's battle reason, she waited to read where best to use her talents.

Jamie took cover to one side of the side door behind the others, and jerked her head back as a pair of pistol shots collided with brick. She withdrew a hand cannon, leveled it, and pulled the trigger. Gunsmoke billowed out behind her as someone screamed.

It was loud and the lighting was not great for a battle, but then again, what battle was ever fought in the best conditions. Rand felt confident with Issy leading the charge and was impressed by Lirssa's knife work. He decided to focus on the enemies with firearms, countering range with range. Holding a shield of Air in place if he was too slow, he channeled Earth and Fire into needle-fine threads of power and cast them out. Several of the enemies called out in surprise as the gunpowder in their weapons became rapidly unstable.

Arish let out a grim chuckle as several of the soldiers struggled with their firearms. One of them was stepping away to try to fix his gun; the knight closed the distance between them unexpectedly, jamming a hatchet into his gut twice. "Malcolm sends his regards," he hissed as the soldier dropped, before finding himself scrambling away from the other soldiers' swings.

The young witch in the plague mask heard gunshots, chanting, the hiss of steel, and the screams and groans of the dying. Mallory stopped at the lower landing, crouched low, and removed her mask so she could take a better look; one hand was in the satchel she'd taken out, fingers wrapped around one of her components.

The Namekeeper looked to Jewell as her friends started to come in and engage the soldiers. "Protect the priests. Kill the intruders."

The Empress lifted her head, her grey eyes dilated almost completely, and stared at the attackers. Her arms, legs, and throat were marked by deep iron burns; the left side of her face was dark with bruises; and the cotton dress she had been wearing when summoned was soiled and torn. One of the soldiers was in her line of sight as Issy and the knights lead the charge inside. Jewell seized all the water in his body and spread her hands apart, turning the man into a fine mist of blood that filled the air while what was left of his body hit the floor. Then she started forward to join the soldiers.


She knew enough to back up against the wall as the shots were fired. Her dark eyes were looking around, reading the place and watching. Isuelt let out a steady exhale. This was more like the battlefields she knew. Soldiers before her...although one less. Even Isuelt's well-versed battle stance took a step back as the man before her seemed to simply burst in a misted ball of blood and then crumble to the floor. The time for her dagger was over; Scathach's priestess drew her blessed blades. She wasted no time in attacking the man who had stood next to his fallen compatriot. Isuelt knew that Jewell was counting on all of them, Isuelt felt that the city (though they may not know it) was counting on them!

The sudden explosion of one of their own, the screams of soldiers whose own guns had turned against them, combined with the boldness of their attackers, forced the Temple soldiers to take a step back and reassess. But they were galvanized by the chanting of the priests. After all, this was why they were fighting to cleanse Rhy'Din. As if controlled by strings, they surged forward with a roaring battle cry, holding firm to prevent the ritual from being disturbed.

Another whisper of energy caressed her gift shields. There was power sailing all around, calling to her own gift, wanting her to release it. Lirssa grit her teeth, reinforced the shields that kept her gift barricaded, and focused on the soldiers. Until she saw Jewell. It was just a moment, where she had to re-compartmentalize where Jewell belonged: not pantheon -- enemy. She dodged a soldier, but his nearby companion read the ruse and got near enough to slice along her rib. His triumph was short lived when her other dagger found his eye.

The faerie was faced with her friends and several knights she had met over the last few months. It didn't seem to phase her at all. She reached out, taking hold of the water running through the pipes hidden behind the brick walls. She gave a tug, and the pipes burst through the bricks, sending streams of water into the air and across the floor for her use.

Arish charged ahead, swinging his axe at the faerie. She lifted her left arm, catching the glancing blow of the blade as if her forearm was a shield. She didn’t react with more than a blink as it drove so deep it hit bone. She kicked the knight away from her with strength beyond her petite frame. Then she raised her hands, blood pouring down to her elbow, and a pillar of water rose up around Arish. It twisted around him before surrounding him completely. The knight writhed, swimming in his watery prison for a few terrifying moments as somehow it was closing in around him. The faerie lowered her arms and brought her hands together, creating enough pressure from the water to crush the knight caught within it. There was a crack, and Arsh hung limp in the trap, his axe slipping loose and clattering to the floor.

"No, no, no, no!" To her near horror, Isuelt was watching Arish drowned and crushed on dry land… due to Jewell! Water was spraying everywhere and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open and blinking. Her vision was compromised, though she pushed on, engaging the Temple guardian before her. This one, however, was not as clumsy as his allies at the entrance. Because Isuelt was fighting with her eyes half open and water dripping from her lashes, this man was meeting her blow for blow.

"Arish!" Jamie called out from the doorway -- currently grappling a soldier trying to make his way in. "Damn that faerie...!" She took the man's head and slammed it backwards, three times, into the brick doorway.

The sight of Arish wickedly cocooned in water, the way Jewell drew upon power, the continuing onslaught... Lirssa hunted for a place to give her protection. The ground was slick, and as she darted around and beneath, she slid to cover behind a desecrated slab that once sheltered a soul. And she dropped inbetween.

If she were lucky, none would see her there, looking more comatose than dead, and an easy target for a sharp eye. Lirssa could only hope that the others were far too distracted to seek her out. inbetween, she let the gift seek out the torrent of energy around her; not to feed it, but to siphon it away. There was no true sense applied to power, but every user's magic had a texture, a scent, a sound, and Jewell's even in this state, had familiarity to it. And it was as though a glacier melted to crash down a valley. It was awesome. And frightening, and Lirssa drew at it, much like she had fought out in the solid world. A little here and a little there, a hummingbird distracting. She could not take on more yet for fear of disaster.

As distracting as soldiers liquefying and watery columns crushing armored knights was, Rand was unfortunate enough to have fought in similar circumstances. Obviously Jewell was using the water, so he channelled Earth to shore up the wall, blocking more water from spraying out, for a little while anyway. Now, he had to do something about the surging throng of delusional soldiers. "Stop!" he yelled at them and when they continued to charge, he let out a lash of Air and Fire as an arcing bolt of lightning that danced through the first wave of minions.


Some of the soldiers hadn't believed it when the Namekeeper had sworn he could control the faerie, but here she was, fighting her own friends. Not only that but the faerie had summoned water elementals to fight against her friends! Grinning, the soldiers grew bold, surging forward at their enemies - laughing as the knight was drowned and dropped, as one of the attackers shouted 'Stop' - as if they would listen to him! They stopped laughing shortly after, however, as the lightning struck, and the water carried the charge, dropping several. The rest staggered on, grimly determined now.

Grimacing in pain as a blade sliced along her shoulder, Isuelt grit her teeth and swung around in a near complete circle. With each blade held securely, which was no easy feat considering the drenching conditions, she landed not one hit, but two across her enemy's chest. Isuelt immediately went down to a knee as her extinguished dance partner collapsed in front of her. She took that moment to catch her breath and wipe at her eyes with a forearm. There was a definite jolt that she felt surge through her as the water elementals met the bolt of lightning. She stood up and blinked, feeling a little off, though she shook her head and looked around. Jewell was not where she had been before she'd been engaged and she didn't see Lirssa any longer either.

"Jamie! Get in there, we've got the door!" Seamus' voice rang in from outside, and Jamie didn't need telling twice. "Arish!" she screamed as she went dashing into the fray, spinning past Issy and driving her sword into a soldier's chest.

The sound of a woman's scream caught her attention, the Scathachian's gaze was lassoed across the room toward Jewell and...Isuelt squinted. Was that the girl that they had had the run in with at the Inn those nights ago? That young, mouthy witch? Isuelt couldn't remember her name at the moment, but she didn't like what she was seeing. None of it. She barrelled in behind Jamie, the two nearly leap-frogging back into action. She was trying to make her way toward Jewell and the witch.

Jamie let out what was more of a roar than a cry as the edge of a blade sliced through her ear lobe. Her left hand was bloody, too. She raced several steps backwards towards Issy, covering the Scathachian as she moved, doing her best to parry the empowered soldiers' blows.

Clearing his vision from the bolt and the spray of water and blood, Rand saw Issy dispatch yet another enemy. Still strongly outnumbered, there was no chance to search for Jewell (who seemed to have vanished in the fray) so he set himself against the rolling tide of soldiers and his blade appeared in his hands, bright white and he engaged them, cutting and slicing, and earning fewer cuts and nicks in return. Hopefully the ratios would pan out and they'd win the day.

Inbetween, as the battle washed around her, Lirssa kept up the twisting and turning dance with ribbons of energy. The power tugged at her gift, trying to get it to entwine, to magnify itself one thousand fold, and Lirssa fought it as she continued to pull tiny streams away from the torrent, weave them into her talent and sink them down and away. It was a tug of war of a bitter kind, but she knew her limits. She was a mouse upon a lion's ropes. This is what she could do. She could buy time -- and hope it was enough.
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Post by JewellRavenlock »

Across the Room

So far, no one was paying attention to Mallory (that she knew of!). Nor the Namekeeper, it seemed. She could only watch in horror as Jewell reduced a soldier to mist and advanced with the others... but she'd moved past the stairwell, leaving little between herself and the Temple’s casters. The witch vaulted over the gargoyle-adorned stone railing and dug a vial out of her bag as soon as she landed. She took several steps towards the mortuary slabs, hissed a few words, and let a vial of black liquid soar towards the Namekeeper. As soon as it was loosed, she went scrambling for cover among the slabs. Wherever the vial landed -- if it burst -- wispy black tendrils wriggled into open mouths and nostrils, attacking her targets' ability to breathe.

The Namekeeper stepped back, allowing one of his guards to intercept the wispy, black tendrils that Mallory had loosed. The man dropped to his knees, clasping his throat as he struggled to breathe. His master paid the man, whose life had been extinguished to protect, him no mind. "Summon some elementals and then take out the witch!" he ordered the faerie under his command.

Quickly now, Kal could hear the commotion and knew something was going on below. He passed Mallory's previous spot just moments after she'd vacated it, coming to an abrupt stop at the bottom of the stairs.

Jewell’s body trembled, sweat forming on her brow as she accomplished something that she was in no way normally capable of doing: summoning several water elementals. They emerged from the water coating the floor now since she had burst the pipes and immediately joined the fray with the soldiers. Jewell swayed, a little unsteady on her feet as she turned to face Mallory.

Find cover and get a count were Kal’s priorities just then. He wasn't sure what those tendrils were, but was happy they were on the other side of the room. He spotted Jewell and grit his teeth at the sight. It was her, yet not. As those grey eyes moved to find Mallory, he slid to find cover in the opposite direction.

The witch Jewell was searching for was on her knees in between two slabs, keeping a low profile, eyes shut as the water soaked through her hair and clothes. Then she lifted her head to see Jewell staring at her, and gave in to her anger to stop the fear she felt. "The Devil ****ing take you, you were supposed to be stronger than this!" Then she crushed something: a clay tablet, inscribed in Hebrew. Three lines of golden fire swirled out from her along the floor, as the water around her started to turn red.

The faerie stalked towards Mallory as if she were prey; as Kal looked on, the silver blades slid from his boots and into his hands, but he remained where he was -- in no hurry to engage. The situation was still a bit too chaotic to trust his chances, and Jewell too distant.

As the water on the floor roiled and thickened into blood, Jewell lifted some up off the ground and formed it into razor sharp nails along each of her fingers. Then she really started to move. She vaulted easily over one of the stone slabs to come face-to-face with the young witch, swiping at her chest. Mallory broke first: she did her best to whirl around, to protect her face, to get away from the faerie, and she screamed as two of the nails landed in her back -- one sticking out of her right shoulderblade, the other passing in and out of her side. Think... think...! She swiped one bloody hand across her mouth, sucking the blood from her palm... "Take my bitterness -- make this ash in my mouth," she whispered, and spat at Jewell. Steaming black liquid, a type of blinding venom, aimed at the faerie's eyes.

The venom hit her in the face, blinding her momentarily. Jewell hissed. Just as she had done to the priest at the start of the fight, she seized control of all the water in Mallory's body. But she was weaker now. Slower. Lirssa had been siphoning off some of her energy. Still, she was under command. She couldn't stop. Instead of pulling the teen's blood from her body, she just tossed her away across the room. As she turned, she drew a hand across her eyes, pulling away the venom (a liquid) and restoring her sight.

There was another cry from the witch as she thudded against the floor, then the wall opposite the stairs. She curled into herself in pain; both of her bags were scattered beside her, several vials of powders and liquids rolling free. Jewell found where Mallory had landed against the wall and made as if to throw something at the girl. The icicle nails made of blood went flying at her.

Mallory was crawling away into an archway, clutching her bloody and aching ribs with one hand and her satchel with the other. She didn't get to cover fast enough, groaning and letting out a whimper as two more of the nails thudded into her -- one in her thigh, the other tearing two of her fingers as it embedded in her side. Blood was welling out now... blood, and power in it. She withdrew the hilt of a broken sword from her and began to whisper: "Let me not die of misfortune; merciful Luck, lend me a blade... lend me a blade..." The blood welling out of her side and suddenly melting out of Jewell's crimson ice-spikes began to bubble and coalesce under her hand. She lifted her head to stare at Jewell.

The soldiers were being slaughtered. The Namekeeper called to Jewell, his sharp eyes narrowed. "Summon more elementals!"

The faerie had taken two steps towards Mallory, intent on finishing her off. At the call, she paused, chest heaving as she struggled to obey. Several more elementals were spawned from the tide of blood covering the floor.

Command obeyed, she started for Mallory again.
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Post by JewellRavenlock »

Fighting Demons

One by one, the soldiers fell, to blades, to jolts of power -- mostly those who had more faith than training. But still they fought their attackers, mostly unheeding of the faerie -- so long as she wasn't turning any more of them to mists there was enough for them to do with the knights and fighters. But they were only human -- and they died, until only a handful were left to fight, bolstered by elementals... and now demons.

Unimpressed with the few elementals the faerie had summoned at his command, the Namekeeper chanted under his breath, calling the name of several minor demons. Circles formed on each of the stone slabs, drawn before the fighting had ever begun, and the demons rose forth from within them to attack the remaining knights and defenders.

Blood trickled slowly from her shoulder and there was a spatter of blood across her cheek, though it was not hers. There was a noise that screeched in her ears as the hilts of her blades nearly shook in her hands. "The hell...." The Scathachian turned around, and instead of seeing only Jamie, she watched something supremely unholy rising behind her from the stone slab nearest them. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me..."

"Behind you!" Isuelt called out with a sword outstretched in a point toward the closest demon who looked to pounce atop Jamie. No sooner had she yelled, however, than she felt a brutish force from behind her shove her nearly to the ground. She tumbled and turned to stand to face another of the demons charging at her. Snarling herself, Isuelt led full strength into her attack and clashed with the black-souled creature. The warmth of her blessed blades was nearly vibrating as she slashed.

Seamus came charging in through the door, skewering a demon from behind and rushing him ten feet forward before dropping him. Two more knights came in behind him, fanning out -- one keeping an eye on Lirssa, the other backing up Issy and Jamie.

The young acrobat was fighting a different battle from the one raging around her. There were no hands to grip harder at the rope. No place to set her feet and strain her back. It was all in the mind and the inbetween of power. Lirssa began to weave, tying knots and greater knots, braids and ropes, drawing at the magic, pulling it with temptation of greater restored. The acrid scent and rough feel of another power was tickled, perhaps it was the elementals, and she added them to the weaving to drain them if she could.

It was a hum. A hum of light like a grey dawn. The vibration tugged at her weavings. She 'listened' to the sound, felt it color the inbetween, and remembered all she had learned before. She released a few strands of energy and instead, began to hum her own counter melody. It was not unlike a weaving, to draw the force away. In this she crafted the thought of a tune. It coaxed the hum to disperse, to tremble. And it grew. She 'sang' more strongly as the inbetween swelled into a chorus of power.

Around her, the soldiers faltered - they hadn't signed up for demons - and there were more of them lying motionless on the ground, or in pieces, than still stood. Now it was a fight to survive, perchance to escape. But the knights, the ones who had arrived to stop all that they hoped to accomplish, they were in between the soldiers and the doors.


Isuelt parried a creature's claws and snapping jaws. The hideous shrieking from its maw threatened to draw blood from her ears as it pressed its full weight upon the Scathachian, pushing her back a full body length; it was no matter that one of her blades had run it through. The unholy roar was almost more than her ears could bear and it was all Isuelt could do to pull back her free blade as far as she could and skewer the demon through his gaping mouth and out the back of its neck.

As hideous and evil as they were, there was a small comfort in fighting demons and creatures of the darkness, there was no fear of destroying any innocence. Pulling his blade from the stomach of a soldier that had lost his faith, Rand turned to square off with one of the summoned evils. As he did so, he caught sight of Jewell again, and Kalamere. There was a moment of hope, that this would be over faster, and then he was fighting again.
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The Empress and The Assassin

"Look at you," Mallory spat, though her breaths were shuddering and weak. "Not so strong... too weak to stop this…!" The witch tore her hand away from her side, drawing a long iron spike, almost a short javelin, out of it and hurling it through the air at Jewell... though her eyes were focused somewhere over the faerie's shoulders: the priests.

Jewell moved easily on reflex, dropping down and rolling to the side to avoid the large bit of iron that would most certainly have killed her. She popped back up, pulled by those invisible strings that demanded she kill and not hesitate in doing so. She paid no mind to the priest that had accepted the iron javelin in her place. She started for Mallory once more.

Mallory watched as the priest screamed, eyes widening, registering the death -- that yes, she'd killed a man -- and then Jewell stepped back into her view. She slid back against the wall, registering that the energy in the room was beginning to flicker, that without the power of three, the ritual would fail. Her gaze slid back to her approaching doom in the form of the faerie.

Things were still a bit more chaotic than Kal liked, knowing he was going to leave himself exposed. If Jewell kept on and killed Mallory though, he'd have failed in his task. This all sounded much more straightforward back when he'd agreed to it. Kal slid from the shadow he'd found cover in, pushing away from the wall to move forward, not quite putting himself between Jewell and Mallory, but close enough to be in her line of sight. "Jewell," he called to her, hoping for a bit of recognition her eyes. "Darlin', fight this." His voice low and soft, thick with affection. If he could get her to hear him, remember who she was, who they were, for just a moment.

The faerie had her eyes on Mallory, but the teen was dying and when Kalamere called her name, she paused and turned, shifting her focus to him. Mallory didn’t wait for her to change her mind: between the faerie and the demons, she chose the demons, grasping a vial of holy water and crawling away in their direction.

Jewell lifted her arm, a bit of silver energy flickering to life in her palm as if she was going to blast Kalamere to pieces. But she didn't. She just stood there like that.

"Kill him!" The Namekeeper screeched, but his control over the faerie was not as firm as it had been earlier in the night as he controlled the demons now as well. Jewell took a shuddering breath at the command and lowered her arm.

"Tha's right, lass. Ye' can fight this." he stepped towards her, searching for her eyes with his. His silver blades clattered to the ground at her feet as he tossed them, surrendering himself. "Listen ta yer heart, darlin', fight 'em off an come 'ome." He held out an arm for her and took another step.

The fingers of her right hand twitched, as if she were about to cast something, and then stilled once more. Jewell took a hesitant step forward and then another, moving slowly as if each one required a Herculean effort. Her grey eyes were still dilated, glazed over, but there were tears there now too, cutting through the blood on her face as she got closer to Kal.

His daggers on the ground, he moved to meet her, his right arm reaching to pull her near. He brushed back a bit of that blue hair and kissed her forehead. The iron blade, more needle than knife, that appeared in his left hand might well have been summoned for the speed with which he drew it and, as he stepped into the embrace, plunged upwards beneath her ribs to prick her heart.

He could say the words and she might have looked for a moment to have had the tenacity to break the Namekeeper's hold. Kal knew better and so had Jewell. A name given and used... there was only one way to truly break that hold.

She gasped as the iron blade slid home, unexpected yet effective. Her eyes returned to their normal, warm grey before they closed and her legs gave out beneath her.

"No!" The Namekeeper roared. "Kill them! Kill them all!" He commanded the faerie to no avail. Only the remaining demons heard his cry.

Kal saw friends amongst the chaos, but he'd never considered this his fight. He'd had one purpose for being in the club tonight and, as Jewell crumpled to the ground at his feet, he saw in her eyes that his oath had been fulfilled. He bent low to scoop the slight form of the faerie up in one arm while already beginning a gesture with his other hand and speaking the words of the spell. They were surrounded briefly in a bluish mist and then were simply gone.
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JewellRavenlock
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The Empress

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Post by JewellRavenlock »

The End Game

Elsewhere in the basement, the battle still carried on. These demons reminded Rand of the Trollocs from so long ago, a memory he was keen on recalling. With a fury to match the demon he faced, he cut pieces from its flesh, dancing about it until it fell to its knees with an unholy bellow. Such a hideous sound, so he silenced the creature for good, separating its head from its body.

Moving among raging demons while suffering from blood loss and cracked ribs had been ill-advised, and Mallory earned a raking of claws across her other side for her efforts. She staggered towards the remaining priests now, her steps slow and bloody and deliberate, with one hand closed around a pendant dangling from around her neck -- fire now leaping between her fingers. Rand saw her, battered and bloody, and channeled a shielding of Spirit, Air, and Fire. For a moment the air around Mallory seemed to glow and the next demon that swiped at her lost its claws to the barrier and howled in rage, turning for easier prey.

The three types of energy flared around Mallory’s unsteady form thanks to Rand, and she smiled at the chanting priests as she approached. She took the fire from his shield, spiraling in towards the necklace she clutched in her fist, raised it to her lips... and opened her fingers as she blew across them. A stream of fire began billowing, roaring out towards the priests and the Namekeeper. However much they protected themselves, at least it would distract them.

As the 'regular' soldiers died or ran, one turned, running back toward the Namekeeper. A giant of a man, he held his sword with little skill, but the fire of a zealot burned brightly in his eyes. He had listened avidly to the teachings, taken them to heart - he was a True Believer. And with the battle turning, he knew he had but one duty. The Namekeeper must live.

The Namekeeper stepped behind the hulking soldier who had returned to guard him as Mallory’s fire roared to consume him and the failing priests, saved by the shield charm he wore beneath his robes. He called one of the demons to his side for added protection, pulled the cowl of his hood up, and headed for the stairs to escape up into the nightclub above.

As that same fire roared at the priests, the tune clashed and faltered, altering its form in between to the pure power again, and as it trembled and weakened, Lirssa knew it was time to shred it apart. No longer did she counter or siphon the power away, she wielded her gift like a fiery brand, slashing and burning the power of the spell. Every fiber gathered up and thrown into the void, out of reach to the priests.

The spell broke.

But the battle still wasn’t over.

Mallory’s chunk of glass within the pendant cracked, the fire within it dead. The witch slapped a nearby mortuary table twice with a bloody hand before she got a shaky grip on it, lowering to her knees. "No..." she said as the Namekeeper made for the stairs, already beyond her means to intervene.


Isuelt kicked out at the heap of demon that hissed as it slid off of her blades, sending it to the floor still wet with water, blood and muck. There was a narrow pathway of sight amid the chaos and what the Judge saw was enough to make her blood boil. Kal standing with Jewell, he had made it to her...though she was collapsing in front of him. For an instant, the room stopped. The knight behind her rushed forward, aiming to intercept the Namekeeper and his entourage. But Isuelt simply stood there, dripping with water and blood and staring at the place where Kal and Jewell and disappeared.

There was a slash of bright light, a line across the stairs, that twisted and spun into a 3x6 portal and Rand stepped through its twin and exited on the stairs, blocking the Namekeeper. "No indeed." He lunged, his sword still in his hand, looking to skewer the Namekeeper through the belly. The zealot had escaped the flames unharmed before turning to follow the Namekeeper up the stairs. Seeing the slash of light, he raced forward, bellowing in rage and denial, and barely parrying the white blade, although the tip scratched along his chest. Positioning himself between Rand and the Namekeeper, he squared off as best he was able.

Kal had killed Jewell. Isuelt had watched it. And yet he was not here to suffer her wrath...a fire began to boil in her blood. The goddess of war did not choose her disciples randomly. She was no stranger to wrath in any of its forms. And while Kal was no longer present, this Namekeeper was. Her dark gaze narrowed as she looked to the stairs where Rand had him trapped. With flared nostrils, the Scathachian began her deliberate stalk toward this doomed man.

When the inbetween was the void of nowhere again, Lirssa stepped back into herself, blocking away the gift. She stirred into the chaos of a fading battle, and she was glad for it. Aches and pains teased at her as she moved to stand with a nod of thanks to the Knight nearby. And she took stock of the surroundings. Her body trembled as she stood, but she was steady. Shadows deep beneath her eyes and breath rushed and weary. There was much to see -- and much not seen.

Seamus separated a demon from its head as something golden and holy exploded off the hilt of his sword; he flourished the black blood away and cast a look aside: "Alright there, Lirssa?"

Seamus. There was a sight for, well, when she was younger likely schoolgirl crush eyes. At that moment, grateful smile and a nod. "Good to see you still alive, Sir Seamus."

"Same to you," he grinned; then the confrontation on the stairs began to spiral out of control. "Duty calls," he said, and for lack of ammunition, pulled a thick knife from his belt. He flipped it twice and rushed to the stairs, angling for a better shot at the hulking soldier protecting the Namekeeper.

She nodded to that, stretching out her back. Deep breath. Tally-ho. She stepped entirely clear of her makeshift shelter, and went to finish off any suffering from the battle harvest. The few knights still standing in the room were not merciful to whatever forces remained, be they summoned demons or brainwashed mercenaries. They fell in with Lirssa, dispatching the standing and fallen wounded alike.


At the stairs, as the soldier rushed in to square off against Rand, the Namekeeper backed up a step. The last demon was at his back, the only thing between him and the avenging Scathachian. He pulled a dagger from the long, flowing sleeve of his robe.

The man was a zealot, empowered by faith and fear. That he held a sword did not make him a swordsman. Rand smiled at the man, an unpleasant, unfriendly smile and unleashed his expertise with his blade on the oversized brute. The soldier flailed in response to Rand’s attack, no swordsman indeed. He may have parried a blow or two, save that a blade suddenly slammed into the space between neck and shoulder. No fault of Seamus' aim - the hulking brute was simply awkwardly trying to defend himself. Blood spouted from a nicked artery, and there was no defending against Rand's onslaught. Struggle though he might, he was only human.

Issy was near shaking with rage, she could feel it pulsing through her entire body. The raw emotion that rocked her soul mixed with the adrenaline of battle; a cocktail for someone on their way to hell. Her eyes were solely on the Namekeeper, so razor-sharp was her focus. Both blades, dripping with a mix of demon and human blood, were out and hungry for his head.

The Namekeeper was quickly running out of room. The soldier and Rand were blocking the stairs. Isuelt was approaching him from the other direction. The demon growled and whined, under control by his name and standing in her way.

"Hound of hell...I shall let you lay the path for your master!" Isuelt's mouth opened and a booming yell let out as she came down upon the demon with the blades that she had been baptized with as a follower of Scathach. In all her years of training, she had never felt them so light in her arms, her rage was carrying her blows and swings as she pressed on. It was as if she wanted to push through the demon itself to get to the Namekeeper. Black blood and unholy howls rang out as she shredded the beast before her as if he were a test. A test to avenge one of her greatest friends. When she had finished, the remnants of the demon sizzled on the floor and spread toward the Namekeeper's feet. Breathing heavily, the Scathachian lifted a dripping blade toward him. "You will die. Now."

The Gateway Rand had opened snapped shut, allowing him to step back as the soldier's large form fell to the stairs and blocked the way. Rand gathered his focus and channeled Earth, creating a solid fist that flew through the air at the back of the Namekeeper's head.

Even when faced with the wrath of The Judge, the Namekeeper raised his blade, prepared to fight. He was a holy priest of the Divine Mother. He would not plead for mercy! He stepped forward to meet Isuelt, but when the solid fist of earth hit the back of his head, crushing his skull, he started to fall forward instead.

Mallory, currently with a tenuous grasp on consciousness, saw Issy point a sword at the Namekeeper's head -- and then saw his head implode from behind. "Holy ****," she muttered dazedly, tightening her grasp on her wounds. "She's a mother****in' wizard..."

In a sick twist of fate, Isuelt dropped her blade only a shade as Rand's blow landed to the back of the Namekeeper's head, pushing him forward. Isuelt thrust her blade forward, effectively running the Namekeeper through. However, she was not so ill versed in the movements of the body that she killed him. Oh no. She had other plans for him.

Rand saw the Namekeeper knocked forward and Issy's blade catch him and he nodded. Sometimes The Judge was the jury and executioner as well. He surveyed the carnage and frowned at the witch, for his healing was nearly nonexistent. And he had to go. Sometime during the fight, the wards at his house in Dockside had been triggered. Val was there, providing sanctuary. He needed to be with her! He slipped out just as the Scathachian began her gruesome work.

One blade was sheathed as the other was still impaling the Namekeeper. And she would use that blade to steer the man away from the stairs and toward one of the stone slabs. Isuelt shoved the man down, withdrawing her sword finally; he was rendered prone upon the table like an animal for ritual slaughter. She sheathed her second sword, still dripping with his blood. Isuelt walked slowly to the Namekeeper's side and grabbed his head and slammed it back down on the stone. Slowly then, as she knew he was effectively stunned, she drew the dagger that had started her night. "You are responsible for this. You are responsible for taking her from us." Her face was the go-between of disgust and business. "I will make sure that your trip to hell is a light one..." She heaved the dagger slightly and plunged it down into his abdomen just below his ribs. Another gash to match the one from her sword, the man cried out in pain. Isuelt ripped the dagger down toward the Namekeeper’s waist and twisted it, slicing once again but to his lateral side. "You don't deserve hell...it's too good for you." She spat out between gritted teeth as her bare hand plunged into his body and she grabbed hold of everything she could and pulled.


She pulled and pulled, never using both hands...it would be over too quickly then. She pulled until the Namekeeper's screams went deaf to her ears. She didn't care who saw this, she didn't care what they thought. Isuelt's grip would not let go, and she emptied the man of every innard she could grab, as if pulling this man's life from him might give life back to her friend. Her friend. Her dear friend. Isuelt glared down at the Namekeeper, "Don't you ever forget her name. Say her name. SAY IT! SAY IT! SAY HER NAME!" Spittle flew from her tongue as she let wrath overcome her.

A few knights and a few fae were coming and going now, taking stock of the situation, taking bodies -- Arish's first. Seamus and Jamie lingered. Both were solemn as Issy gave into her rage, heads bowed, hands on the hilts of their weapons.

Blood gurgled out of his mouth, crossing his lips, and he tried. He realy did try. More than obeying Issy's cry, it was a last ditch effort to save his own life. "Eilya--" he whispered before his eyes rolled back.

A howl of grief and rage built up inside the Scathachian and she opened her mouth to loose it. As the Namekeeper died her bloodied hand pulled free one of her blades and she swung it skyward as if it were a great axe, letting loose her bay as she did so. The sword came down and in one clean slice she beheaded him, sparks flying as the metal met the stone beneath the Namekeeper with such a force. Her breaths came in a rapid rhythm as she regarded the bloodied mess of a man before her. In a matter of moments, however, she turned around to look at those gathered. To Seamus and his remaining knights she uttered quietly, each word cutting from her lips like serpents: "Don't bury him. Take the body outside of the city and leave it. Leave it for the crows to eat."

Those working their way around the room, collecting weapons and dragging bodies away, gave the Judge a wide berth as they did. One of the knights frowned at Issy's irreverent request, but Seamus -- as the ranking knight -- responded first: "Neither rest nor consecration. We'll see it done."

Lirssa had her own matters to see done. Crispin and a few guards were protecting Summerlane. Between there and High Spires House, the other foster homes had collected the children for safer keeping. Lirssa needed to see to them. It was an urgency that broke past pain and exhaustion. One last glance around, and she nodded to Theolin, a House of Summer companion, who shared that nod. They took off ignoring their wounds to see that the children and their homes were safe.

The city was still in chaos outside even with the breaking of the spell, but the few fae healers that Ishmerai had ordered aside for this mission tonight were on hand, sifting through the bodies for any wounded that Lirssa and the knights had spared. One of them murmured, falling sideways onto a backpack as a healer inspected her. He looked up sharply: "Oi! We got a live one!"

Another healer hurried over, kneeling to check Mallory’s pulse and her wounds. Her lips drew into a grim line, and she called out to the fighters remaining in the room: "We need to get her to the hospital. She is bleeding badly."

The Scathachian's gaze turned from Seamus to the witch and her healers. It took her a few moments. "I'll escort her with you."

Seamus wiped the blood from his blade as he looked between the witch and the healers. He was about to recommend an escort... and then nodded to Issy. "Happily." He cast a dark look at the deep puddle where Arish had perished earlier. "There's nothing for us here," he muttered, and shook his head, falling in with Issy as they departed.
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