The Wounded King

[Mainstream Hipster]

Visante was slowly beginning to lose his calm hold of his emotions. He couldn't recall a moment in his life where he had felt so powerless, so helpless to change his fate. At this point, struggling to get up off the floor, did he feel so sure that he was sure to die. The voices, the whispering, persisted, always trying to overtake him, to drive him fully into madness. And as he stood limply, the temptation to submit was great. It was as if the voices would take him away from all this: the fear, the anxiety of dying. He could rid this mantle of living, of struggle and let his mind be overtaken. So sweet was the idea that he allowed himself to be pushed to the brink...

Then he opened his eyes, remembered his cause, his purpose in life. Power was not gained without struggle, without pain and loss. If one did not put forth effort, one would not get power in return. Such a gift was not given freely; there was always a price. And this, if he could survive this, surely it would lead to an even greater power than he possessed now. Gritting his teeth, he fought back mentally against the whispers, the ramblings of the Dragon Lord, shutting it out from his mind. For the moment at least, he had peace. But the issue of the Dragon Lord, blasting away their defenses with ease, was still an imminent concern. Visante stared upwards, and felt the leftover arcane energy in the air. There was so much of it, more magical energy than any one of them could produce.

Visante turned to the younger spellcasters and wizards still standing, their eyes lost of hope, barking out orders, "It's not over yet! I have a plan, but I need you to buy me time! Don't worry about attacking, it's no good. Just work on putting up as many barriers as possible!" With that, he focused on the magical crackling that filled the air along with the whispering, reaching out and starting to harness it. The energy formed in front of him, quickly condensing, and grew quickly in power and size. Visante grit his teeth, finding that the more he harnessed, the louder the voices grew, gnawing at his focus. But he needed this energy, every bit he could handle, to have a chance.

 

[Cicatrix]

Aamira's mind was still panicked, nothing she thought made much sense, until a sudden, blinding light flashed. Blinking, she came to her senses and took in her surroundings. A noble, she guessed, now stood up, joining them. More enemies blocked the path they wished to take, and so they turned to the alleys. Get to the Symposium, don't leave the group, think of your brother. She repeated in her mind in an attempt to focus. But then, something shattered her thoughts. A scream, coming from Synae, as birds fell from the sky. Aamira stopped in her tracks, gasping as she looked at Synae, trying to make sense of what was going on, why she screamed, and figure out if she could help this woman. But what was going on was not anything she was familiar with, for Aamira knew little of magic. Still, she had to do something.
"What's going on?" She blurted, rather pathetically. She silently scolded herself, still wishing she had chosen to learn more at home and during her travels. Shoving her regrets aside, she focused on what was going on. It seemed that Synae hadn't heard her, or at least didn't feel like responding. Still confused, Aamira took a step back, and jumped as something was crushed beneath her foot. She refused to look down to see exactly what animal she had just broken. It was already dead... She reasoned.

 

[Kitti]

Mind reeling, Tem was at a complete loss for what had happened and she stood at the counter, assessing the situation while trying to figure out the nature of the beast before her. Her mind was humming with the subversive power of whatever it was, an impression of awe and a desire to fall at its feet and perhaps even pledge her sword. She stood still, her mind warring with itself, but the interruption of the other two helped her break free of the tug at her thoughts. She pushed it away, filling them with images of the man who held her fealty through fear and coercion, replacing one with the other.

Emerging from the cocoon of her mind, Tem returned sharply to the scene at hand, stimuli striking from all sides and she returned to reality. She was slow, though, so slow that she nearly missed Kendrick behind her with a dagger. Her thoughts exploded, she barely registered the small creatures spewing forth from the wound of the Dragon Lord, and when she attempted to jump back in surprise from Kendrick. She was alarmed that she'd managed to miss his advance, but she was not fast enough to avoid the dagger entirely and she felt the edge rake her shoulder as she dove away.

"Controlled" she snarled, grateful for the leather armor that had protected her from the dagger doing more than scraping a cut into her skin. Her hurried evasion was less graceful than she could have hoped and she stumbled somewhat, eyes flicking between the ghastly creature the other men were fighting and Kendrick, who posed a more immediate threat to herself but ought not be killed just because he had succumbed to the admittedly pervasive influence. Taking a fighting stance, Tem raised her arms, choosing to attempt to incapacitate Kendrick.

Fluidly, Tem dipped at the knee and swung a leg out to sweep Kendrick's knees. She was putting her hope in that the other two men would distract the main threat from her, rather than it taking advantage of her distraction and vulnerability while she worked to keep Kendrick from harming others and himself in the process.
​

 

[UltimaCircuit]

The force of the being was great. Darius's arm flew straight into the air as the being parried his strike. How could it though? It didn't seem to even have the slightest hint of muscle on its bones, but how was it so strong? The weight of his blade carried him back, and Darius stumbled back into a sturdy wood table behind him. He looked around to see the mind controlled peasants grabbing at his wrists firmly, and pinning him down to the table.

"Damn it! Can you all not see past its illusions!"

There was no point in talking to these shells of man. They were completely enthralled, and it seemed as if there souls would be lost forever. He looked at the other two who were not being controlled, and tried to comprehend each of their situations. The bearded male had nasty vermin crawling up and down his arm, and Darius gagged at this sight. He then laid his eyes on the woman, and watched as she fought with the enthralled bartender. There had to be a way to escape from these peasants.

He couldn't think of another option, it seemed now as if only pure strength would help him now. He sighed before flexing his muscles, trying to break free of their hold. His arms shook vigorously, and he looked at the peasant who held his left arm. His eyes were completely white, his pupils rolled into his head. He sighed and then gave one more push before getting his left arm free, and smirked. He then cocked back the now freed arm, and bashed his shield into the face of the other, forcing the peasant to release its grasp.

He then gulped slightly before turning back to look at the skeletal being. Obviously he was no match for this thing now, but its attention was not on him anymore, but on the female. She was to occupied with the bartender to notice that it was edging closer. He had to do something. Darius sheathed his blade before moving his shield in front of his face, and sighed before charging at the Dragon Lord. He was going to hit it, and cause it to stumble back, giving time for the woman to escape.
​

 

[Eternalfire61]

It was all a blur until he actually reached the monastery.
He left it all behind to go to this sanctuary to see if life was worth living.
A stern young boy who wasn't willing to quit made it there.
Now he is on his way to greatness.

​

All of the bugs were bad enough, and all the blood on his arm almost made him puke. Overall this situation couldn't get better, instead it was becoming worse. All of the vermin were slowly coming off of his arm, but he didn't have anymore time to spend on them.
Garkin stopped as the lingering spiders and other insects crawled off of his arm.
He looked over at the man fighting the skeletal being, and he wasn't winning.
It was obvious that this battle wasn't going to be won with only a couple of people fighting the thing off.
Garkin looked around and saw a pair of bar stools next to him, which could hopefully stun the being.
"Everyone get to the streets!"

Garkin moved around Darius who wasn't having much luck on fighting the being and threw the bar stools at the being.
The patrons quickly moved from the bar out into the streets.
Garkin began moving back with the crowd flipping over tables and chairs to be able to hold the beast back.
He knew it wouldn't do anything but it would give him time.
Swiftly he backed out the door and shut the back door.
"We can't stay her for long, otherwise it's going to get messy."
Garkin moved out to the festival and looked around for the man who helped fight the Dragon Lord.

​

 

[Asmodeus]

Vorde stumbled against the alley wall as Synae grabbed him. It was the feel of static discharging, of blood becoming ice and flesh creeping. As the forest around Argeria turned to thorn and poison, the priestess felt her every connection severed - her every root torn out. Her soul was excavated, made as hollow as Vorde's in that single moment. They fell against one another and for an instant their magics were aligned, their souls stripped of their mutual beauty now resonating.

As lights that stretch upon the blinking eye, or gossamer threads of morning dew, they saw the web of the world. The Ruster and the Elf were behind them, colours vibrant against the grey mass that pursued. And like dancing lights the form of the noble boy, Cordelis, circled in and out of sight.

And then, like fire beyond the walls, a dozen alleys away, they felt the others. They were like serpents in the smoke. The smell of ale came heavy to their nostrils; the chattering of beetles, the clanging of prison bars. For the slightest half-second the outlines of Tem, Garkin, Darius and Skelter were clear as ink-blots to Vorde and Synae.

And there were threads between them all.

"This way..." Vorde gasped as Synae regained her balance. He was almost hyperventilating. "We must go this way!" He seized her hand and took a side-alley, waving to Brill, Cordelis and Aamira to follow.

Their eyes were glazed, pearl-like. Vorde and Synae, with their hands clasped, saw without seeing the way to go, taking left-turn then right, guided by the silver fires beyond the stone. Never before had they felt such providence - such aching of the heart that compelled their every step. By the time they spilled back onto the main street they were gasping for breath. Synae collapsed to her knees while Vorde doubled over. The vision was leaving them. Their senses were returning.

And they heard Garkin.

Looking up, Vorde could see the tavern at the other side of the cobbled street. Survivors were spilling out, beetles and spiders around their feet, and behind the windows of the inn was a hue of regal gold beset with silhouettes of the enthralled.

Vorde knew... as did any who looked upon that light... that there was something terrifying inside.... terrifying and regal... longing to be served.

The Necromancer shook his head, then struck his staff against the cobbles. There was a pulse of light, the tip of the wood bursting into green flame. And with this he signalled to the people at the tavern.

"OVER HERE! THIS WAY! WE MUST GET TO THE SYMPOSIUM!"