Joy, the advisor of roses leaves, following Esme.

1 Templar Knight guards have been dismissed.


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Throughout Arvum and the world entire, millions of people look up to the sky that now has black tendrils stretching towards a blood red moon. As they watch, the moon begins to resemble more and more of a skull, the empty eye sockets gazing down at the world with hate.

Above Harrow Hall, what looks like a book begins to rise into the sky, floating above the towers. The book grows and grows until its shadow casts itself over the landscape, with but the flicker of red moonlight giving illumination. In the Great Book of Endings, every individual can read the words of their current and recent actions, telling their story as letters begin to appear telling of a particularly terrible end.
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The Great Book of Endings looms higher in the sky, and across the world everyone can see a page turn to what speaks of a terrible ending for them- and all too often, one of eternal humbled service to Orichalcum the Horned God. One page of the book speaks of another great fire in Arx, and perhaps in the most petty of actions from an eternal enemy, a great blaze begins to burn in multiple places throughout Arx. There's a scramble to fight it, though the blaze is obviously supernatural and attacks the Iron Guard with wanton cruelty.

The moon already blood and looking like a skull, looks wet, as if flesh is beginning to form over the skull of the moon.
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Joy, the advisor of roses arrives, following Esme.

Libera, a quiet hawk arrives, following Skaldia.

A number are slipping through closer to Harrow Hall, moving around the main forces of the Horned God to reach the entry way to the castle and it's great shut drawbridge. There's a swirl of spectral energy around them, and a dozen ghostly harrows look at Cufre. "Now you can call for vengeance. It would be stronger inside, inside the throne room of the Horned God, but more precarious. One could start the chant now, and attempt to call the Kindly Voices, but it would be longer."

Oura, a white-tailed eagle, Valor, a juvenile male Oakhaven Bloodhound, 2 Greenwood Tribe Blood Warriors arrive, following Thesarin.

Esme has arrived from the battlefield, with her eyes sliding over her shoulder. There is a mixture of guilt in the emerald eyes before she turns to look what is currently going on here.

Skaldia leads the way as best she can for those sneaking into the castle, her face taut with anxiety. But the ghosts of Harrow Hall are here too, and they are not harming the stealthy group that begins to make its way inside.

Cufre looks to the ghosts of her ancestors and nods, years of practice in not speaking to what others cannot see behind her. She closes her eyes and exhales. When her eyes open, she nods again, and this time she speaks to them, quietly, "Show us the way?" before raising her voice for others to hear, "On behalf of the Harrow family, descendants of the First Among the Unchained, in whose Hall the one who calls himself the Horned God has trespassed with intent to bind, I beseech the Three-As-One, the Kindly Voices, and ask Them for vengeance."

Thesarin slinks in from the battlefield, face painted in red and white, tattooed skin showing between his shoulders and elbows, stygian and bone beas woven through his hair; he doesn't look today like a shav dressed up in a Grayson nobleman's clothes, he looks every inch the fearsome warlord from the Grey Forest he once was. He looks over the assembled quickly, and moves toward Mia, reaching to take her hand. "...I ain't come too late?"

There was no sneaking for Countess Ember Redreef. When she arrives at the castle, it's after having cut through the enemy -- quite literally, as she wields Eschaton, her alaricite farmer's scythe adorned with onyx spikes up and down its huge handle. Wearing spiked shadowmeld -- including her cloak and her horned, eye-shading, skull-faced helm -- Ember looks like she should well be one of the monstrosities pitted against Our Heroes, and yet when she approaches... she sets her still-dripping scythe down, listening to Cufre, bowing her head deeply.

One moment Raymesin isn't there; the next, a tall, dark figure is emerging from the shadows with a red blade and its lightning-bolt emblem in one hand and a sooty black blade in the other. There's not a fragment of flesh on display, and all that lies behind his hood and the scarf over the lower half of his face would appear to be a skull.

Kanean made his way with his men following the rest, he is here to make sure those here remain safe as they do their thing, his bow in hand as his grey eyes look around.

Mia, wrapped in her Oakhide leathers and with her weapons at her side, looks to Cufre, her brows furrowing as she observes the other woman. There's a slow inhale that follows, a darting of her dark eyes towards the battlefield, bathed in moonlight. She reaches one of her gloved hands out for her husband's as Thesarin arrives and that moment, there, when her hand is outstretched towards his is when she steels herself. A single swallow, and then a sharp, decisive nod. "On behalf of the slaughtered Sons and Daughters of Orichalcum, of Elephon Sylvas, the would-be Horned God, I beseech the Three-as-One, the Kindly Voices. I plead for their justice, enacted against the kinslayer whose blood I bear, the man who sacrifices my brothers and sisters, his children." With each word, her voice becomes firmer, harder, louder.

Maybe she's not one /expected/ to be here but Calyana is confident that she belongs here. She looks from the Harrow sisters to Raymesin and then to Mia and her resolve is only strengthened. She's needed here by many people. Her fear may not fade away but it subsides for the moment. She studies the surroundings carefully watching out for threats.

Oswyn stays by Mia; when Thesarin arrives to claim his wife's hand, Oswyn gives a quick smile. The Archscholar, dressed in leathers, adjusts a pin on his cloak and looks to the sky. He's pale and sort of sweaty, but he can be forgiven, given the circumstances.

There's a sound very much like thunder as Mia speaks and the black tendrils reaching towards the moon freeze.


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Above the book in the sky, there's a flash of light- much like lightning in a stormcloud, though as the sun dipped it was a clear night. One by one, the stars flicker out, as if fleeing something, and even the skull-like moon's eyes seem to turn to look at something above the book. Above the book, there's the outline of three great winged figures, a radiant outline in the darkness, from which even the stars flee.
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Slight amused smile as Calyana tries to stifle her amusement at Orichalcum being called by his birth name.

Thesarin looks up toward the sky, at the sight of the moon and stars, and takes a short, sharp draw of breath through his teeth. "Blood and fire..."

Calyana isn't the only unexpected guest to arrive. On the horizon, what looks like a flock of birds seems to gather. The flock flies in closer and, before too long, the strange moonlight is glinting off of glittering scales of red and blue and myriad other hues and shades of color. A roar of fury shakes the very air as the leader of the flight, a dragon with dark ruby scales and golden eyes, lands somewhat from the rest of the group gathering. Cynara shakes her head and bellows out, "We've come to fulfill our part of the pact. We have your back!" The other dragons bow their heads in Mia's direction. There are only five of them. One or two don't seem to be in the greatest shape, but still very... dragon.

Valencia stands away from the others, her back against the wall. Her face still and composed, large dark eyes calmly drifting between the others and the window.

It attracts notice, a huge portion of the Gargantuans look up at the winged figures, and from deep inside the chambers of Harrow Hall, there's a scream of rage. A majority of gargantuans begin to turn towards their direction as the true threat to the Horned God.

((OOC: But it'll be a few before they get here, and for next round, going to have checks on trying to contact the Kindly Voices and bid their case. So this is going to either be social checks at hard, or occult rites at hard, and all can roll whether they are doing a social check pleading their case or a mana + occult roll to try to influence it))

Skaldia looks to Raymesin, seeing he is wielding Wheelspinner, the blade Felicia once held. She gives him a solemn nod, and then she turns her eyes toward Cufre and Mia as they begin to call upon the Kindly Voices. She moves closer to Cufre, and takes her hand, in solidarity. "On behalf of the fallen of House Harrow, and to atone for the sins of the past, I beseech the Three-as-One, the Kindly Voices. I plead for Their justice, that the lands sacred to our family may be cleansed, and the wrongs done by the one who calls himself the Horned God, Orichalcum, may be made right within the Dream."

Ember checks command and intimidation at hard. Ember fails.

Esme checks mana and occult at hard. Esme is successful.

Oswyn checks mana and occult at hard. Oswyn is successful.

The shadowmeld-wearing Crimson Countess -- odd nickname, considering she's wearing all black, but perhaps one must consider the blood covering her armor -- steps forward, to speak with the others. Her voice is stern, clipped, furious. "Three-as-One. I am Countess Ember Redreef. On behalf of my line, on behalf of my people, and on behalf of Leviathan, the Archfiend of Hunger, of Poison, of Suffocation, of Starvation, of the Deeps, I will see justice done this night." Perhaps the entitled, bossy approach is not the ideal one to take with supernatural forces beyond one's control, but those who know Ember probably know she doesn't have any other approach to use.

Thesarin checks command and leadership at hard. Thesarin is successful.

There is silence from Esme. In her world, everything just paused. Her mouth opens but at first nothing comes out. Not one word comes from the normally bubbly female. Her eyes, however, share her very thoughts as if she cannot control it. It's very clear that the first question is how to ride a dragon. Then she argues with herself that it's rude. Another attempt at words as those dragons arrive. There is just the slightly, almost silent squeak. She is near the others and finally one word is heard. "Dragons." They are cool, but it is not what she's TRULY here for. She does try to get them here. Esme offers, her voice to the rise of tides, helping. "On behalf of being blessed by Limerance.." Which might explain the glowing. ".. I beseech the Three-As-One, the Kindly Voices. I ask for their justice."

Mia checks command and leadership at hard. Botch! Mia fails completely.

Raymesin checks command and empathy at hard. Raymesin is successful.

Skaldia checks composure and diplomacy at hard. Skaldia fails.

Calyana checks charm and seduction at hard. Calyana fails.

Valencia checks charm and propaganda at hard. Valencia is successful.

Cufre checks command and haggling at hard. Cufre is successful.

Oswyn squints up at the sky, not squinting as much as he might have years ago. The winged figures. The... dragons. His breath catches; his eyes widen. A sight he never expected to see, it clutches his heart hard enough to hurt. He does not plead; he does turn his gaze from the sky, back to Mia. Instead, his intent is to lend a quiet strength to her.

Raymesin steps forward, one of his blades going away so that he can rest a hand on Mia's shoulder. "On be'alf'a the restless dead, them as 'ad everythin' taken includin' their own lives for 'is greed and 'unger fer power, I beseech th'Three-as-One, the Kindly Voices. As Death's own Mercy, I beseech th'Three-in-One, the Kindly Voices. I plead fer Their justice, that th'world may be cleansed, an' the wrongs done by th'one as calls 'imself the 'Orned God, Orichalcum, Elephon Sylvas, the man as sacrificed 'is own kin an' everyone else's on the altar'a 'is own ego, as a few thousand ghosts in this patch can attest."


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There's an earthly rumble as a great beast bursts from the earth near Harrow Hall's gate, a monstrous cross of a scorpion, centipede and bear several hundred feet tall with a hundred gibbering mouths with mandibles, screeching in hate at a small group near the gate. It starts to lumber forward while the Winged Figures look overhead, and there is the beating of wings of a number of flying things diving towards it.
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Cynara checks composure and intimidation at hard. Cynara is successful.

"I've witnessed these acts of kinslaying though I was enslaved and could not stop it." Calyana says to affirm Mia's words with a nod, wary about what they are about to summon. "He is a kinslayer and an abomination on the dream."

Looking to the others, Valencia listens and then adds her voice to the others. "I am Valencia of Velenosa. I come in support and to plead for justice for all those of Arvum who are not of these houses that are being spoken for. For the smaller houses and the crownsworn. For any and all who need your protection and help. For all who have been done wrong. I ask for justice and for a better future for all who live in these lands. For each woman, child and man who wishes nothing more than to live on without fear."

Cynara lifts her massive head and says in a low rumble, golden eyes flashing, "The Skylords are here to offer our support to the Daughter of the Metallic Traitor. This traitor has betrayed not only his own kin, but also all of his kind. A world where humans, dragons, and elves work together cannot exist if he does."

"...Three in One," Thesarin says, looking to the figures in the sky. "We speak of an enemy, one who's done me every injury and given me every cause for complaint, and seeks to do more yet. But my hurts ain't your concern, I know; he's my enemy, fair as aught. So all my hurts aside, I speak for them 'ganst who he's broke every Law of Laws. Them who he swore a broken oath, and all his kin he's killed, on and on the years. Centuries he's stood, kinslayer of all kinslayers, holding all his sins in pride. So I beg of you, Voices: heed our call. Set things right." He turns to look at the monstrosity crawling from the dirt and gives another longer draw of breath. "...fuck me."

Cufre speaks out again, with new words, "The kinslayer Orichalcum has taken residence in my home, without my leave. In my family's home, without our leave. Kindly Voices, if you hear our call, we ask that You come here and bring him his due." She squeezes Skaldia's hand. -They- are invited.

Skaldia whips around to stare at the giant monstrosity that is lumbering out of the ground behind them, her eyes widening, her mouth hanging agape. She puts herself in front of Cufre, the wind blowing the tufts of auburn hair sticking out of the diamondplate cowl on her head. She draws her bow, nocks an arrow, not that it is likely to do much good. But she's putting herself between Cufre and any danger, and that's that.

Kanean wields Phantom's Bite.

As if that wasn't enough, the Wall of Thorns begins to break down. Smaller misshapen humanoid forms made of thorns start to assemble themselves, and move to assault the party even as the Kindly Voices stare down, listening. One raises a hand, as if to bid them to make their case.

((OOC: For people trying to save their asses from ThornBros, it's going to be dex + meleeskills at hard. For those negotiating with the Kindly Voices, it now is a -normal- check as a result of other things going on, and this is still either or on occult or a social skill.))

Calyana checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Calyana is successful.

Kanean checks dexterity and archery at hard. Kanean is successful.

Esme checks mana and occult at normal. Esme is successful.

Ember checks mana and occult at normal. Ember is successful.

Valencia checks charm and propaganda at normal. Valencia is successful.

Thesarin wields Guardian, a long arming sword with a razor-thin edge and a dawnstone set at the center of the crossguard.

Cufre checks command and haggling at normal. Cufre is successful.

Raymesin checks willpower and theology at hard. Raymesin is successful.

Thesarin sees the monsters coming in, and without a word he hands over a necklace to Mia, pressing it into his wife's hand. He looks at her, smiling, for some reason, despite all of this, all the death just outside the wall. "...we'll see it done." The words are said with conviction, but it doesn't keep his voice from catching.
And then he rushes the thorn figures, alaracite sword in one hand, blood-red axe in the other, evinging an eerie, high-pitched wail as he charges into their ranks.

Thesarin checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Thesarin fails.

Oswyn checks mana and occult at hard. Oswyn is successful.

Skaldia checks composure and diplomacy at normal. Skaldia fails.

Cynara checks dexterity and brawl at hard. Cynara is successful.

Mia checks mana and occult at normal. Mia is successful.

Giving a little shake of her head, Skaldia backs up a bit. The things are too close for her to use her bow, apparently, so she is backing up. Instead, she tries calling on the Kindly Voices again, while keeping herself between Cufre and the bad guys. But she just can't keep her composure, the monstrosities they are faced with causing her tongue to stick to the roof of her mouth.

Steady. Steady. Oswyn is a dependable man, with a good heart and pure intentions. It's quiet strength, and care, and love, and he stands by Mia and maybe that means something. He believes in her and her worth and her claim, at her side, supporting.

Kanean brings his bow off his back and in silent hand motion his men starts to make a circle around those talking with the Kindly voices to protect them, "We will keep you as safe as we can." he tells them, the Ravshari pulls his arrow ack and lets lose as does the other archers that are with him.

Raymesin turns away from Mia, his hand leaving her shoulder as he does so. He brings up Wheelspinner, holding the blade hilt-upwards, and pulls the Wheel's Edge, so the wheel of its pommel his up. Power swirls about him for those who can sense it, the taste of blood and the dust of bone and the earpiercing wail of a newborn babe that is heard with something that isn't the ears. And through that, one word, spoken in an impossibly deep voice and carrying throughout the battlefield. "RISE."

Cynara says some words to back up Mia, but that isn't what she is here for. So, with that said, she turns her big red self around and, after taking a second to make sure there is no human thing in the way of it, breathes a little fire in the direction of the thorned figures emerging from the hedge. Wood, even magic wood, burns.

Mia's head snaps up at the sudden crack of thunder and the appearance of the figures in the sky. She knew they would come. She knew it, and yet she sucks in a breath, murmuring simply, as if the invective may somehow act as stone on which to she can build her courage, "Gods above and Reflections below." It does not become her foundation. No, quite the contrary. As Mia feels the burning eyes of the Kindly Voices upon her, of the moon glaring down at her, of that tether that ties her to her father's rage, she shrinks down. Her shoulders hunch up around her ears. Her voice, once rising, begins to waver. The next few words do not come out. But it's then that she sees the silhouettes of the dragons, come to honor their ancient promise. She hears Cynara's voice, lifting to echo her own -- and those around her, her husband and her friends and even strangers, echoing her pleas. Eyes squeeze shut. Somewhere, somewhere in the distance.... "I am but a mortal woman, but you are eternal, and the Laws of the Dream unbreakable. He has defied them time and time and time again. When his Daughter's called you last, it was THEM he slaughtered, and upon the altar they built to YOU!"

Calyana manifests, of all things, a magical stick that would resemble a bat to hit a ball with. But to her mind she has made the things she needs to make and hits one of the the thorny humanoids with it. It does send them a ways away that suggests it's not the force of a regular bat as the thing explodes into horrific thorn gore. Nonetheless she readies herself to hit the next thing, moving with an inhuman speed.

It is not Esme's show this time. Her eyes shift over to the roaring noise and then she looks back to the Kindly Voices. A breath is taken deep in her lungs as she looks at them. They are so close and in front of her. There is a pivotal moment when something you wanted you finally get to see and to experience. Esme's eyes brim with a shimmer of tears for a few moments in awe, in happiness, in all the emotions that one can feel. Her smile curves upwards at just looking at them. Her eyes taking them in. "Thank you." The words given for just them coming to listen to the pleas and to consider their requests.

The threat of the Wall of Thorns' rupture is noticed by Ember, but she resists her instinct to go, fight, kill. She drops her scythe to the ground and steps forward, standing alongside Mia and the others. Her helmet is removed, revealing her face -- scarred cheek, burning amber eyes, dark hair braided back in a battle-appropriate fashion. She's praying, but speaking in a language not known to many, recognized by few, a glottal and harsh staccato flow of hard consonants and noises that seem impossible for a human to make: Abyssal.

Oswyn glances sidelong at Ember as she speaks that guttural tongue; he nods, then, and joins in prayer. His language, just as foreign, but somehow uplifting, calling to the heavens above: Celestial cant.

Skaldia keeps herself in front of Cufre and starts praying to Petrichor as well, in Arvani, because she doesn't know any special languages!

Valencia stands stoically in the chaos. Head up, back straight and dark eyes seeming to be focused upon the dragons and those seeking to call for justice and protection.

Oswyn says in Celestial cant, "Lend strength to my friend. Her claim is true, and her cause is righteous. I am here to witness. I am here to record. When this is finished, if I am allowed, I will write of this time, my service to my Gods. I will do my best. I humbly request she be heard, and that I might tell of your judgment."

Ember says in Abyssal, "Leviathan, Hunger within us all,
Dweller in the darkest depths,
Swallower of the sun's light,
Strengthen us against our foes,
Deliver us vengeance upon those who have wronged us,
Consume our gratitude without reciprocation,
Let us live to honor your endlessness another day."

Something passes in Valencia's eyes, perhaps surprise, and she looks aside in thought. Frowning a little, she resets her composure and lifts her head. Her lips move softly, perhaps in quiet prayer, perhaps not. It is hard to tell. But upon observation whatever she is saying is meant with full force.

Calyana says in Sylv'alfar, "I hope your master knows that he's an insufferable little worm and that I didn't enjoy hearing him speak. He's so /dull/.""

Calyana says things in her mother tongue at every monster she attacks with her bat, her tone vicious and growing more so with every swipe.

Suddenly a great many of the thorn creates are being pulled down into the ground, with what looks like hundreds of tiny fanged mouths in the ground chewing them as they are pulled down, as if they were dropped in water and sink rather than solid earth. One blood covered fang mouth seems to grin at Ember before sinking down into the earth. Other Thorned creatures are being grabbed by spectral figures, a result of Raymesin and Volcica, and ancestors of Harrow Hall forming a circle around Cufre and all of them for the moment, while the dragons attempt to hold the massive beast lumbering forward.

The huge winged figures come closer and closer, landing on earth beside Mia and looking down at her. They speak in a voice that echoes as if hundreds of mouths were speaking as one in perfect unity, "We do not grant mercy. We do not grant peace throughout. We do not aid. We revenge. Speak as to the one who has wronged you, and name the price you would exact."

Cynara notices Calyana's efforts and starts to work in tandem with teh sylv'alfar in an attempt to spray the creatures with fire so that Calyana can easily bat them down. Between breaths, she bellows out, "If need be, I take the petitioners on dragon back into the sky. If this gets too hectic down here."

Kaneanand his archers continue to shoot arrow after arrow, do whatever must be done! Keep them safe while they try to convince the powerful ones to help!

As the thorn creatures are dragged beneath the ground, and as the ghosts of Harrow encircle them, Skaldia's features relax a little, though she still glances toward the great beast being held off by... dragons? She does a double-take at this, and at Cynara, but then, the Kindly Voices have her full attention as they descend, and she backs away, to give them room. She glances at Cynara and her comment about petitioners for dragon back riding. She stares at the dragon, then looks to Calyana and her efforts, and the others. She stays well out of the way at this point, so she doesn't get caught in dragon fire, or the wrath of other clearly powerful creatures around her. Then she bows her head in respect, while the Kindly Voices speak. Her hand clenches on her bow a little, the leather of the hand guard creaking beneath her fingerless glove. Libera has lifted off, and is circling above again, doing what she can to peck and claw at any enemies.

For one brief, fleeting moment, Mia dares to look upon that face with its many voices, her eyes wide and unblinking. And then she bows low, bending down to take a knee there in the earth. "Prince Elephon Sylvas has built his power upon the murder of his own children, brought into this world solely to be sacrificed for the primum which their heartsblood may grant him as he seeks to become a god. He is no father, he cannot know the meaning of the word, for what true father could slaughter his own flesh and blood? I do not beg you for your mercy, O-Keepers-of-the-Laws-of-the-Dream, but for righteous vengeance. Turn a pitiless gaze upon him now -- strip him of the power he's gained through his sacrilege, deprive him of his own heartsblood as he did his children. Bleed it dry, and let him die here and now upon this battlefield."

"I offer you a piece of my past, my present, my future, a piece of my mind, my body, and my soul. The memories of mother's love are yours to take, each gentle word, each tender reassurance -- the memory of the mother who cared for me, to pay the price of justice against the father who sends his creatures to kill me even now. I offer you the strength of my body now, as people from all corners of the dream rise up against his might. I offer you a geas upon my soul. Someone dear to me once said that they believed my soul brand to be a mark of justice; let me be an instrument of yours in my next life, as Weohstan swore to be for Elephon's Daughters today." She raises her hand, offering up within her palms a necklace of inhumanly beautiful craft, an instrument of justice once wrought by the Voice's hands. "Accept these gifts, as payment for his children's revenge."

Esme is almost vibrating with excitment even as the world around her is being plunged to chaos. There are dragons, and creatures and fighting and the Kindly Voices. There are sacrifices. She listens to Mia talk and offer over to revenge what is she has. Then she looks away just for a moment with the song of battle being played out and then back to the Kindly Voices.

Cynara's eyes narrow and she flaps her wings, back to the Kindly Voices, as she veers in to take out the Kaiju with her brothers and sisters. "Keep her safe!" And then is wheeling into the air.

The Countess of Redreef Shores sets her helmet down on the ground, and steps forward, staring down the winged Kindly Voice with the same sternness she stares down anything. "I stand with Marquessa Mia Riven in seeking vengeance against he who would have the gall to name himself a 'God,' the one known as Orichalcum, among other sobriquets."

Ember pauses for a moment, before continuing. It's not like her to have to take a moment, but she seems to realize the gravity of what she's doing. "To defend my people, to fulfill my birthright, I have walked the path of darkness. I have embraced the Abyss and its bounties. I have done... unconscionable things in order to further my goals. Tonight, O Kindly Voices, I would offer to you in sacrifice..." Another pause.

"...I would offer you my redemption." Ember's lip twitches. "I offer you the chance that my soul might one day see the Gods' light. I offer you what goodness is within me, knowing that atonement and forgiveness shall be forever beyond my grasp."

Eira, 2 Bone Wardens, 3 Bone Wardens arrive, following Volcica.

A nod is given to Cynara before she focuses her attention on the ground and creates a variety of weird branch traps for creatures to trip over. This seems to be her focus for now and any who do, do end up being grotesquely killed.

Skaldia's eyes tighten with worry as she hears the various offerings that are presented before the Kindly Voices. She looks to Cufre, and takes her sister's hand again. She is mute, for now. The Kindly Voices have not spoken to her, and she will not speak unless they do. She keeps her gaze on Cufre, so that they can draw strength from one another. So she doesn't have to look upon the terrible visage of vengeance.

Calyana creates the ground branches that rip people apart that is.

Oswyn is just way too close to the Kindly Voices. He stares up at them, their impossible and terrible grandeur, his eyes wide. What happens next?

The huge winged shapes are listening to them with what seems to be an unearthly intensity as one Voice nods towards Mia and one nods to Ember, "Your father is a kinslayer, and there is but one penalty for that. But he has carefully hidden his soul among Legion, among the thousands upon thousands he has bound to him. He cannot be slain permanently with such as that. Imprisoned, certainly, but perhaps only for a time. We could not punish him, while his payment was collected, but it has been revoked."

The Voice comes closer to Mia, looking at her, "Daughter of the Kinslayer, if the chains protecting him were shattered, would you call for his death so he might not rise again?"


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The Great Book of Endings that has risen above the world suddenly slams shut. It floats in the sky for a long moment then bursts into flame as it shrinks, pages burning away into ash that litters in a falling rain all throughout the Compact.
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Volcica has been silent. Her lips have moved in unheard prayer and reverence, her dark eyes fixed on the Kindly Voices with fascination and awe. Finally, though, the Northerner speaks. It isn't in Arvani, though, and it isn't really for living ears. There isn't any pomp or circumstance, just a woman setting the butt of her spear in the earth, grounding herself while she speaks.

Mia keeps her head bowed for a long, long moment. There is slight quaking of her hands, made apparent by the way the chains of the Daughter's Lament dance as they dangle over the edge of her hands. She clutches them tightly closed to give her the will to look up in the Voice's face, the Voice's eyes, whatever she might find there. "I would. May the gods forgive a child who can hate her own sire so, but I would call a thousand-thousand times for his death, to protect my children, my family, my people, and all the Dream from the horrors and the slavery he would inflict upon each and every soul in this world."

Volcica says in Deathwhisper, "Kinslain of Orichalcum, it is time. I promised you to bring you vengeance, to help you rest. I found the place where you were killed, and I have brought it here. Gather, and plead your case to the Kindly Voices, the Enforcers of Aion's unbreakable laws"

Volcica checked dexterity + tanning at difficulty 9, rolling 25 higher.

Volcica drops a chunk of old, bloodsoaked stone.

Cufre follows Mia's lead, and bows before the winged figures. "I bow beside the kinslayer's daughter and ask for vengeance against his trespasses on the Dream." She sighs and tries, "As You say, he is one among many. But by bringing those binds to my family's home, he has wrong the Unchained who freely chose to make this place their own. He has wronged my kin, and I ask your vengeance."

"I bring an offer of the past, the present, and the future." She pauses, apologizes, and forges on. "For the past, I offer my memories of my oldest sister, Felicia. For the present, I offer the Blessing I was given, the gift of seeing the light of a person's soul and how it joins to the light of others when it can, and how to heal it when it can't." Another apology. "And for the future, in exchange for drawing him from Legion so he may see his Ending…Beginnings. For me to never hold a babe and never to speak the blessing of welcome to its soul."

Calyana cannot stifle her surprise at Cufre's sacrifice. She looks at her with surprise, though can't keep her attention on that long enough as there are creatures that still try to slip through the cracks.

Esme listens to all of this. She doesn't react to Ember being OF THE EVIL, she does listen to the Kindly Voices. "While I am not a daughter..." Her voice offers with conviction of spirit. "I am beloved by Limerance. My offering of my past..." She pulls out the cloket. "I have loved once of a mortal heart and in that time it was all I have loved fully and without question of it. So I give up those feelings of love bestowed by the God of Courtly Love that I had for Erik. For the current..", she twists the ring from her left hand, third finger. "I give my position as Archlector. I will walk away from the Godsworn and the position on your want. It is yours to decide. As to the future.." A pause and a glance and then a glance back. "I offer a willing life sacrifice and I am the life if one life is needed to seal a pact to protect the future from this, please I give mine to you willing." She then steps back by Mia, but she's watching the Kindly Voices (and still fangirling a bit).

Skaldia gasps softly as she hears Cufre's offer to the Kindly Voices, and she gives a little shake of her head. But the words are already spoken. Still, she stays near her sister's side, her brow furrowed as she looks between the Daughter of Orichalcum, and Cufre. She swallows hard and bows her head in quiet reverence, and acceptance of Cufre's choices. That is what we are all here for, after all. The freedom of choice.

There's a flicker of light, and others that were elsewhere are now here. The singers with one of the Kindly Voices standing beside them, as all three Kindly Voices speak in unison, "With their words, we shatter all the shackles of the world entire." There is a great thunderous sound of a hammer striking steel, unfamiliar to everyone perhaps Gwenna, who has heard it in dreams. "And with that, the protection of the Kinslayer is in abeyance."

There's a sudden piercing scream from Harrow Hall as the walls of the fortress begin to collapse inward, such as being squeezed by a great hand. Suddenly there's another flash of light, and a screaming man in a crown is struggling on the ground before them, Orichalcum's once smug face twisted in agony and pain and fear and hate. He screams incoherently slurs and shouts, looking at Mia and Sen as he is held by an unseen force and squeezed. The Kindly Voices are not gentle, slowly crushing him to death, but he is also at their mercy, all magical protections from him stripped as he flails in unbelievable agony.

Above them, the book is raining ash down upon them, aflame and lost, and the moon is shifting back to its pale dead grey.

Oswyn turns his head to look at Esme, brow furrowing as she speaks. It's only for a moment, though, because then the others join them. Then, the fortress begins to fall. And then, there is the screaming. Orichalcum. Oswyn's eyes widen, blink. "...Fuck today," he murmurs.

Ten thousand voices from around Volcica all scream as one, over and over and over again, "KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM KILL HIM!"

Any sort of composure Calyana may have contained drops when she sees Orichalcum in twisted agony. Her eyes widen in shock at the site and she runs toward him, forgetting everything behind her. It almost looks like a woman running to a lover, as does the way she says, 'Orichalcum', but then her voice changes, "I FUCKING HATE YOU!!" And she impales his midriff with a vine with an admittedly sadistic pleasure.

"...a world without him," Thesarin says in a low voice, rumbling out in almost complete shock. Dragons and monsters and thorn-beasts and incomprehensibly powerful creatures from the stars, somehow this seems to be the most incomprehensible thing to him. He's out of the fighting, just for now, letting the others fight off the monsters as they come. "For that, Voices, I'd give my own left eye. I'd give the memory of my last day among the Greenwoods, a people unbroken. I'd take the same pledge with my wife and bear your brand upon my soul, to serve your vengeance in this life or the one next."
And then he's quet, as he watches the form of the Horned God rising up from the castle. He stares, and watches his screaming and begging. "...ain't look so much, now."

Skaldia checks composure at daunting. Skaldia fails.

Raymesin twists around to look at Cufre following her words, and then he's looking to the others who speak. His hood twists and turns as he looks at each and every one of the people, then the crumbling walls, then the man in his crown - and then he's reaching to touch Calyana's shoulder with a quiet murmur.

Sen'azala has no mercy. She is in her true form, a white furred creature half wolf and half man, and as Orichalcum appears, screaming, helpless, her lips peel back from her teeth and she snarls. Snarls and leaps for him, claws reaching for his head, teeth biting for his throat, attempting to crush his skull between her hands while he chokes on his own blood. She has *no* mercy. And she's made her choice.

Nina is shocked to suddenly be Somewhere Else than she was before. And to witness this... Her eyes turn up to the skies where the book is crumbling. This is something she can view without her stomach entirely turning. In fact, it's beautiful. The screams of agony certainly down out some pleasure from this, but... if this is what it takes for victory...

"Don't do that," says Raymesin mildly, a little louder. "Yer gonna end 'im quicker."

Calyana says in Sylv'alfar, "He has to know how much I hate him. I have hated him for 500 years. I hope he knows before he dies, the pathetic worm.""

Ian takes in the shock of having been one place, and now being somewhere else in stride. His expression is flat, but his eyes are luminous; a shimmer of pale silver light passes from time to time over the intense electric blue. He has his sword in hand, but held at a defensive angle, that lazy guard that's always been his trademark. He doesn't race to follow Sen'azala; this is not his moment. He has no right to it.

Ember's alaricite scythe and horned shadowmeld hem are on the ground behind her. She stands with Mia, with Esme, with Cufre, with everyone else beseeching the Kindly Voices, though the expression on her face is tight, like something deeply troubles her.

Calyana cries when she finishes speaking and ends moving behind Raymesin as if to shroud herself from what she sees so she can regain her composure.

A little fox on the ground looks up at Thesarin says, "Don't be hasty, Thesarin of the Greenwoods. There's a price we'll all be a payin' yet to come. Well. You'll be a paying. I'm getting the heck out of here.

Skaldia lifts her hands to hear ears at the sound of that hammer, squeezing her eyes shut. Then her eyes open again, to see Calyana and Sen'azala going at the dying body of Orichalcum. She steps further back, rather than rushing forward to join them. She watches in troubled silence.

Gianna backs up a step, holding her hands up as if to ward some retribution despite the fact that none is aimed at her. Hopefully she doesn't trip over Fox.

In the wake of the song, the choice, the screams, the carnage, Tikva holds onto Sorrel, half frozen, and says, in a voice gone raw and hoarse, "Lia's vengeance too, in a way. All the lost names. The stolen souls."

Kanean blinks as he turns to watch, there is a deep frown disturbed? perhaps but also pleased to watch the man scream. He backs away watching.

The little vixen seems lost and backs away into the shadows where she belongs.

Valencia claims that

It is the first time that Mia has seen Orichalcum's face in anything but memories, or dreams, or visions -- the first time she's ever laid eyes on the man, the elf, the would-be god who fathered her solely to see her slain. Slowly, her expression shifts, one feature at a time. There's fear there, but also anger, and hatred, and... and finally tears that sting her eyes as badly as smoke. She stares at him writhing there on the ground, makes no motion as others rush forward to impale him or crush him or tear him apart. "I will not have your blood on my hands," she finally hisses at him. "Because I am NOTHING like you, Elephon." And then her voice drops into a whisper carrying the worst thing of all -- pity. "May the Queen of Endings give you centuries and centuries of penance, so that one day you're worthy of a simple death."

The swift movement from one room to another sets Quenia off kilter a moment. That was not something she was expecting! And then there are screams of agony and other people which also put her off kilter a bit more. However, once she gets her bearings, once she sees what's going on, she carefully schools her expression. She does her best to hide any fear that might be lingering there, for there is certainly a healthy amount of fear. However, there's a part of her that also seems satisfied with the outcome she's witnessing. It's the end of a journey that started so, so long ago within the Great Hall of her manor. "He deserves so, so much worse for his cowardice," Quenia remarks in a very /very/ uncharacteristic way. It's clear she has strong feelings about this, very strong feelings that seem deeply rooted for someone who hasn't any true connection at all for anything he's done.

Sorrel squeezes Tikva's hand gently, a little disoriented but making the best of it. "The world has changed today," she murmurs. "But Lia deserved this. This is her legacy."

Ian's lips part, and his eyes widen. Even through that sense of centeredness that accompanies the alaricite light that gleams in his eyes, there's shock there, some kind of emotion not fully expressed. He looks at Ray.

Thesarin looks down at the source of the voice. This should be surprising, but, well. It's been a day. "...we met afore, fox?" The Prodigal shrugs his broad shoulders and grunts with a noise of exhaustian. Back to the sight of the Horned God being crushed to death. "...it ain't yet over, then? Reckon I'd be following you if I were clever." He spins his sword once at his handle. "Any words o' wisdom afore you go?"

Cufre rises, her face tear-streaked as she turns to watch vengeance take the Traitor, her dagger drawn but held at her side, unneeded.

Sen's muzzle is wet with blood as she releases her jaws from Orichalcum's throat, as she brings her nose right to his, as she stares into dying eyes and says, "Their names were Nirai and Ranabi." Then her claws dig in, there's a horrible moment where she squeezes, and his skull shatters. She lets the body drop, inhales sharply, clenches her fists, and howls to the dead, dead moon. Rage, yes. So much rage in this song that's all hers. But grief too, and the grief overwhelms the rest.

The fox flicks its tail at Thesarin, "Arvum is lucky, in a lot of ways. Writs the world over were shattered, and slavery wasn't really a thing here. Wouldn't want to be in Eurus, Cardia or the Empire right about now. But some of the -worst- things were bound. I'd get ready for a fight, if I were you. Against what?" The little fox bounds back to stand behind Gianna and presses against her leg, "Who knows. But something, that's the way of things."

Gianna looks down at the Fox, her expression wry. "Is the music very different in Nefer'khet? I did get a glimpse at all the far places to travel to learn new songs," she whispers.

Tikva is quiet for a moment as Sen's howl begins. But it is the nature of this song that she can't let the Venandi sing alone. So as she screams her grief to the ended moon, Tikva takes in a breath, and raises her voice to howl along. What else can she do? She's been the backup singer this whole time.

Raymesin, a skull all that's visible beneath the hood and the black silk mask that covers him from the nose down, meets Ian's look - and then he's reaching out to clasp the other man's shoulder, then try and pull him into a hug.

Skaldia eyes Fox, and her features soften a little bit as she looks upon him. In spite of everything, she spares the tiniest of smiles.

This may end the world, in one way. The world as they know it, at least. It will be bloody, and it will be chaos. But there's a light blazing in Aleksei's face as it lifts to the sky, and a smile that looks like it's been slashed across his face. "Every chain," he breathes. "//Every. Chain//. Freedom. It's not //easy//. Freedom is never fucking //easy//. But it's our inheritance. We were //born// to be //free//. We are made of //potential//. And a little bit of poison, to make us strong. To help us survive."

He breathes deep of the air. "This is a new world."

It truly is a new world. Without hesitation, Ian wraps his free arm around Raymesin with maybe a little too much force.

Oswyn turns to look at Mia, a smiling creasing his lips. "You did it," he says, simply. "I'm so proud of you."

It's unnerving, how tens of thousands of ghosts cheer on Sen'azala slaying the helpless Orichalcum. With each rend of claw and tooth, the cheers grow less and the dead begin to fade. Vengeance sated, each in thank Volcica for the chance of their revenge and are returning to the wheel. There is a sensation of peace and gratitude that flows into Volcica. Overwhelming for anyone perhaps but for the Voice of the Dead.

Orichalcum is dead, and Fox makes a little bit of disgusted sound at the ravaging and squints at Sen with a sound of exasperation. "That's so Wolf." It bounds safely out of reach before answering Gianna, "Music is very different everywhere, or else what's the point, really? Everyone has their songs, and my friends, I have to admit?" Fox smiles, its eyes glittering, "Since the dawn of this world, that song was one of my favorites." And then it bounds behind a small bush. It couldn't have possibly hidden it, but Fox is gone. Capricious thing.

"Did it feel good?" Calyana asks Sen with a touch of envy as she looks at her former master. There's still tears in her eyes. "Tell me how it felt."

Cynara finally lands, covered in blood (or whatever the kaiju bled) and smelling of fire and smoke. She bows her head a moment and says softly, "It is done." Then, she looks up to the sky, her mouth parted in what appears to be a toothy smile. "Yes, broken writs will keep them busy for awhile. And get this black bastard's attention." Then, she sees Fox and bows her head low, in respect, before it is gone.

"So there's more to do. Ever. But not now." Thesarin moves over toward Mia, stepping quickly, letting go of his weapons--his priceless alaracite dropping over to the ground as he moves in to pull Mia in for a hug. "You did it. It's over. It's done."

Raymesin makes a tiny noise of pain, and there's a distinct cracking sound under Ian's arm. "Ngk."

Sen'azala howls her voice away. Every time it seems like she's stopped, she finds a new note, though it's not as angry and loud as the first few. She's watching the dead depart. Or, perhaps, she's watching specific dead depart, and she's singing them goodbye.

"Fuck," Ian says, releasing Raymesin and taking a quick step back. "Sorry."

Skaldia turns to stare at the ruins of the ruins of Harrow Hall, then she looks to her sister solemnly. "Cufre?" she asks, stepping closer tentatively. "Are you alright?"

There's a strangled sound that comes from Mia and it's somwhere between a laugh and a sob, as if it doesn't know which it wants to be, as if she doesn't know which way to turn. There's Oswyn there at her side, offering his simple smile. And Ember, and Cufre, and Esme, women she hardly knows and yet who have offered so much, so very much, and the tears start to flow down onto her cheeks as she looks to each of them in turn. Calyan in her rage, so well earned, so much smaller than than the Traitor deserved. Sen'azala, her own friend, howling and howling her voice away. She doesn't know which way to turn, and so it's perhaps for the best that Thesarin clutches her to him, because it's then that something hard and stiff within her finally cracks and she begins to openly weep into his chest, adding her tears to whatever else might be smeared across his armor.

Almost all the undead have departed, but one zombie runs up to Raymesin and gives him a hug. It's friendly, if more than a little uncomfortable due to the rot, and kind of lingers to the point it's pretty awkward. "Good job, General. Bob the Rotting here."

It's still a little overwhelming, and there's tears streaming freely down Volcica's face. She's offering quiet prayers to Death and Lagoma, speaking the words of funeral rites both common and uncommon. Ushering the dead off, so they can be reborn into the new world.

Raymesin takes a shallow breath when he can, and then another. "S'alright," he grumbles. "I've 'ad worse." And then he's returning Bob's hug, albeit with a wince for his newly-broken ribs. "Thanks fer comin'," he says, trying not to gasp. "All'a yer. 'Preciate it."

Cufre smiles through her tears as she looks in Volcica's direction, but when Skaldia approaches, she turns to her and hugs her tightly, shaking her head against her sister's neck.

Quenia checks composure at hard. Quenia marginally fails.

Valencia doesn't look too sure about things being done, safe, or anything changing, but if that is what she thinks, she's not saying it at present. Maybe she's watched too many movies. Stepping aside so the heroes can celebrate their victory, she lights up a smoke as looks out the window in contemplation, arms folded across her chest. The zombie is missed because her timing is excellent.

Countess Ember is lost in her own thoughts for a long time. She stares at the space where the Kindly Voices showed themselves, or perhaps she just stares at the sky. Her expression gradually shifts from troubled to solemn. Her amber eyes turn, focusing on Mia. "So." Ember turns and reaches down, to pick up her skull-faced helmet. "That's it, then." She doesn't seem satisfied, or even happy. Just... distant. Cold. "Thank you, Marquessa, for leading us." She pulls her helmet back on, covering her face, shading her eyes. And then she turns to walk away, picking up her scythe as she goes, a lone figure drifting into the night.

Having kept her calm as much as possible throughout this whole ordeal, this is now when things start to weigh in on Quenia. A dawning harrow sets in at the realization of the choices made, even if she supported them. "Gods help us for what's to come," she remarks, her hands suddenly going to her stomach as she lets loose the contents within.

Oswyn smiles, warmly, at Mia before turning to look at the others gathered. He's squinting less than he used to as he looks over the faces of those gathered.

Skaldia wraps her arms around her sister and embraces Cufre, holding her tight. "Shhh," she murmurs. "We'll get through it." Her own eyes begin to well with unshed tears as she glances down at the body of the fallen Herald. Libera, still soaring above, cries, "Scree!"

Kanean puts his bow back onto his back and he tells his archers to move out, he looks around at them all. "It is done." he nods to all of them as he takes a more relax stance.

Sen'azala finally gives a small shudder. Fur recedes, as do claws and muzzle. Her eyes are the last to return to how they were, if not...quite *enough*. Those eyes are wet though, and for a moment she's left to staring. She swipes the back of one very bloody hand across her very blood mouth, almost absently.

Falling to her knees, Calyana cannot stop sobbing, she just seems to look at the ground in the process. "It's over." She continues to sob and there seems to be no end.

As Sen becomes human again, Ian turns towards her and smiles. "Told you."

Oswyn pauses, and then digs around in a pocket to produce a handkerchief. He looks over at Mia, who is crying on Thesarin, and then there's more crying so he walks over to Calyana and sinks into a crouch to offer the square of cloth to her.

Oswyn gets monogrammed white handkerchief from pocket.

Thesarin is crying, too. Not raiking, not sobbing, but tears down his face freely, leaving trails through the red and white paint covering his face. He looks to the shape of Sen'azala as she fades back to her recognizable self and calls out "Shard! ...Prima. Sen'azala." He stands in place, holding Mia close, a real, toothy smile on his face through the tears. "It's done. All we spoke of, in them days--it's done." And he gives a short, deep rumble that could only be a laugh.

Kanean looks to Calyana moving over to her he kneels down by her, "Are you okay?" he asks her in a soft voice looking to her with his grey eyes.

Nina is relieved as well, but finally just collapses and quietly sits, considering all that's been done. Eventually she'll pick herself up enough to be moving to whatever afterparty may happen... and hopefully be singing a different sort of song, of joy and victory and freedom.

Sen'azala doesn't respond to Ian. Or to Calyana. Arguably she doesn't respond to Thesarin either. She stares somewhere very far away, and then, as if on her own time, she plants a hand against the ground and eases to her feet. If she's *aware* that all that blood on her face is getting mixed in with all the tears, she sure as shit isn't reacting to that either. "I need to see the sun," she says dully, without explanation. She does not, however, make any move to go find where the sun might be visible (or be visible soon enough, she has no idea what time it is now). Instead, she steps forward, staring down at what's left of Orichalcum's corpse. "One more promise," she says, quietly. And then she stomps it. Again. *Again*. It's not a Compact dance, and arguably it might not even be a dance from her tribe, but it does become a dance, an actual *vicious* dance. "Into the dirt," she says. "Into the mud and the dirt. That's you. This is you. This is your legacy, this is your memory, this is what the Horned God means, this is what it means when the name you chose is heard. Dirt. Mud. *Nothing*. That's what I make the name of the Horned God. I will call you the Horned God *forever*, Orichalcum."

Slowly, slowly, as she finds a steadier breath and words turn towards relief and disbelief and realization, Mia lifts her head. She turns it, too, now smeared with streaks of salt and dirt and possibly some blood that isn't hers. She looks to Sen'azala, and to Calyana, and to Oswyn. Her hand drops to Thesarin's, fingers curling around his palm as she loosens his embrace and pulls him to where the others are gathered near the Traitor's corpse. One free, slender hands reach for his crown -- for her father's crown -- which she holds as if it's a great weight, or might suddenly snap and tear at her fingers. "Calyana," she says, softly.

Cynara stands a little bit away from the others. To no one in particular, she offers in a gentle rumble, "You want me to burn what remains down? Start fresh?"

Raymesin eventually manages to politely disentangle himself from Bob the Rotting, and send the zombie back towards Arx. That done, his hood turns towards Ian and he claps the man on the shoulder again, before he moves towards Mia to rest a hand on her shoulder. One that isn't covered in zombie.

Calyana looks up at the humans around her. "I'm okay. I just. He's gone. I don't even know how my people are. I'm scared." She seems to struggle to say more than that but she does look to Mia with the crown and there's a slight comfort.