Nero Kunivas

Ahh well, it's fine. I'm perfectly all right with reworking Laguna's powers at least, so don't feel bad. I'll get to it soon-ish then I'll let you know when it's done via Discord.

Ahh, I was afraid of that. Would I just have to change the Gem's purpose? Or does Laguna need a full overhaul, powers and all, would you say?

Name: "Laguna", The Maelstrom Age: Unknown Gender: Unknown, bears an androgynous figure and masked voice. Appearance: 5'9, almost always floating slightly off the ground, dons a full-body covering set of hooded robes, soft-fabric trousers, gloves, simple shoes and an ornate, completely face covering mask, with eyeholes that cannot be peered into with any results, only allowing any eye glow to be seen when Laguna uses their powers. All of this covers a fairly androgynous body as mentioned before, along with a magically modulated voice, all disguising who Laguna truly is, what they look like and even their name is an alias. The robes are a mixture of dark blues and grays, with a large Somnum emblem emblazoned upon the back. The palms of Laguna's hands are engraved through the gloves and their skin with magical runes, that serve a purpose. Court Affiliation: Somnum Weapons: Hammer of the Maelstrom, Mjolnir - Laguna's personal weapon, bearing resemblance to the weapon of the Thunder God Thor of Norse Mythology, from it's appearance down to the name. Forged with Laguna's own hands long ago and enchanted, it is a weapon capable of channeling their powers as a vector, while also bearing its own strengths, such as incredible durability allowing the weapon to survive damage that would break any other hammer, sword or axe and a specific enchantment that prevents the hammer from being picked up and wielded by those it considers unworthy, feeling like an immense weight that cannot be lifted to those who are so. With a simple extending of Laguna's, or the worthy's hand, Mjolnir will fly to their hands and can be manipulated to intercept enemies, fly independently or spun by the leather strap and flung forward to initiate personal flight by its wielder, meaning the hammer is an excellent form of transportation. While Laguna's powers are their own, this weapon in the hands of those who are worthy shall possess the power of Laguna so long as they hold it and if they already use at least some of Laguna's powers, they will be enhanced. Magic: Weather Control, Thunder and Lightning Mastery, Mystical link to Mjolnir, some degree of the Arcane. Fittingly for a wielder of such a hammer and member of the Somnum Court, Laguna possesses the ability to generate and control electricity in a variety of destructive forms, from lightning bolts from the skies, channeled streams of electricity, wreathing their body in lightning, electric orbs, blasts of electrically charged energy to knock opponents off-balance and the list goes on. Whether it is through use of Mjolnir or their own power, Laguna controls their abilities with the skills of a master, including the power to influence and control the weather to generate storms, fly and float above ground, charge Mjolnir or their fist with electricity then initiate a devastating ground-pound or just enhance their blows with the weapon or otherwise with their energies. Laguna possesses greater durability, strength and speed than non-mages, possesses knowledge and wisdom that would suggest they have lived for a long time, longer than most people and can use the Arcane, though it is still seen as Lightning, to change their attire to whatever they desire, but for a long time, Laguna hasn't diverged from the hooded robes and mask. Personality: A truly altruistic, caring yet mysterious Somnum Mage, Laguna earns either the ire and suspicion of those around them, or the unwavering trust and understanding of others. Most Somnum should feel a sense of camaraderie with Laguna in spire of their deliberate hiding of their face, gender and past, by making people know and potentially appreciate the person they are now, be it through simple chatter or gestures of affection, or greater acts of kindness or even great justice for those who are wronged. Laguna's attentive, always listening and frequently ponders on the meaning of words spoken to them or the actions they have witnessed, leading them to be incredibly considerate of their own actions and words, knowing that they will have a great effect on the future and the world around them, but it by no means makes them hesitant, cowardly or inactive, rather the opposite of all three in dire situations especially. Laguna is however personally disgusted by Vivifica's discarding of the old ways and subsequent cutting ties with the other courts, viewing them as dangerous, reckless and potentially power-hungry and will view any member their come across with skepticism, great suspicion and hostility. This attitude extends to the morally dubious, the criminal and truly malevolent beings of the world that Laguna has and may come across. Background: Very little is known of Laguna's past before they came to join the Somnum Court, when they entered its halls masked, robed and only calling themself "Laguna" without revealing a gender or their true voice, Laguna was met with great suspicion and initially refused by the elders of Somnum, but through simple, calm insistence and the demonstration of their powers, along with a clear love for the ideals of the court the elders were convinced to grant Laguna the chance to prove themselves further under their wing and officially inducted them. For the next several years beyond that, Laguna would learn the ways of Somnum, fight in battles in their name and further their abilities, but at first made little in the way of friends despite Laguna's friendly demeanor, her colleagues weren't sure what to make of them at first, but would still fight alongside them whenever the need arose. The title of "The Maelstrom" was an unofficial nickname at first, after her colleagues witnessed their abilities firsthand in sparring, but would later become an official title when Laguna's power won them several important battles, saved the lives of fellow Somnum and stuck her neck out to protect those who needed help, earning her several honours, the title and the respect of her now comrades in Somnum. After Vivifica began to deviate from the other courts and eventually split off from their Order, Laguna felt nothing but disgust and disappointment with the rogue Court. Now she meditates on what is to come... (Edits made and the characters powers have been reworked.)

Name: Soren Monroe, Fractured Bulwark of Ignis Age: 37 Gender: Male Appearance: 7', strong build, pale, burnt, withered, damaged skin, corrupted complexion and red, fiery irises that fade into a yellow nearer to his pupils. Soren is bald due to his grave accident and wears a respirator-like device over his mouth, built with a combination of the most advanced technology of the time and magic to allow him to breathe. He wears dark-colored armour, with large, angular shoulder pads, Ignis-symbols where appropriate, leather gloves, thick, shin high boots, a long flowing black cape with a hood, all of it interlaced over his respirator system to protect it as well as his body. The armour, like his respirator, is enchanted with Soren's magic to strengthen it further. Court Affiliation: Ignis Weapons: Blade of Cinder - A large greatsword infused with the power of fire, allowing Soren to wreathe the large blade in flame whenever it is drawn and has served him well for many years. Magic: Fire Mastery, Telekinesis, Earth Control, Physical and Spiritual Corruption Soren has been a longstanding warrior and mage for the Ignis Court, not only capable of great power with their represented elements of Fire and Earth, but with a less visible force that grants him an edge in combat in the form of Telekinesis, to lift vulnerable opponents, pick up and toss inanimate objects and crush said objects, foes or their throats. What he can lift is only limited by his current power level and his mind, which already bears a strong will due to all he has endured and in desperate, or incredibly emotional moments, can perform great feats with any of his powers that will leave him exhausted but likely, with a defeated or wounded opponent. Due to an accident that has left Soren scarred, deformed and in need of his magic/tech respirator in order to breathe, Soren's body and spirit have invited a corrupting darkness within him. It's both a blessing and a curse, for this darkness is what fueled his anger and hate, allowing him to survive his injuries in the first place, but now it is beginning to have its way with him, slowly but surely altering him and has already had a great effect, due to his eyes changing colour permanently, when it was just an initial change at first, along with his demeanor shifting over time. It has also affected his powers, his flames are dark blue rather than the usual orange-yellow and everything he does bears an aura, or at least a tinge of darkness to it, even his telekinesis. Personality: Before his accident, Soren was always a bit of a grump. A snarky, old grump even at a younger age, but he always demonstrated a caring side to his comrades and those in need. After the event which left him considerably scarred and damaged, Soren has become bitter and a little lost, partly from injuries, his need for a respirator but also partly from his corruption due to allowing the Darkness the fuel his anger and hate in order to even survive. He's unsure exactly where he stands in the world, which is a dangerous place to be, as being so far on the brink can very well lead to a fall from grace. He thinks and acts like an Ignis, acting in the best interests of others, but his tainted body and spirit, the darkness that sustained him long enough to allow his respirator to be conceptualized, built and tested in such a short period of a desperate time, all have changed his outlook, for he seeks to eliminate his weakness, the damage done to him. He doesn't know how yet, but the lengths he will go to in order to find out are slowly but surely getting greater. Background: Having been born and raised in the Ignis Court, Soren would take quickly to their teachings, becoming a stalwart warrior who embodied their core principles of doing his duty, bringing justice and protecting others, often stepping in to help his comrades both in combat and in butting heads with his superiors if they were being reprimanded for something he felt wasn't deserved or was being judged too harshly. In spite of this, he rose the ranks and his actions in battle and outside it had him become recognized as a Bulwark, a sentinel and insurmountable wall against their enemies and all who would bring harm to the innocent. Ten years ago however, something was able to break this wall, to cause Soren irreparable damage that would change him forever. A rogue member of Ignis was causing problems for the Court for quite some time and Soren had sought to put them down for their treachery and the danger they posed toward the innocent, which all came to a head when the ex-Ignis initiated a brazen attack on the Court's headquarters, threatening to kill its master and all within its halls. The ex-Ignis stood before Soren and the other Ignis Warriors who fought alongside the Bulwark, wreathed in strange, crimson flames unlike any Ignis ever seen and was clearly half-mad at this point. Something was destroying the ex-Ignis from the inside out and piloting his body as a chaotic force of pain and destruction, causing his flames to burn hotter and with a ferocity no one could control, necessitating his quick demise. Soren ordered that there be no mercy for the unfortunate Traitor, so he was granted none, being assaulted viciously and without hesitation from all of the warriors, plus Soren, wounding him severely when he slipped up. However before Soren could deal the killing blow, the possessed ex-Ignis suddenly exploded in a torrent of flame that immediately consumed Soren, burning his skin and scorching his lungs. The crimson flame spirit then blew its way through the Court's ceiling and escaped from Ignis, leaving Soren to scream in unimaginable agony for a good few moments. The other warriors went for help, but all hope was looking lost for Soren...until something changed. Soren's soul made a link to the Darkness and fueled his anger at the flame spirit, his hatred, his agony, all of it became fuel for it to sustain him temporarily. The man had always had some kind of link to the power, despite his being of Ignis, rather than Umbra, but it would save him that day, albeit with lasting consequences beyond his injury. It took some time, a great deal of concern about Soren and his oddly yellow and red irises, along with how he was still screaming even when he slipped into unconsciousness from time to time, but eventually, they were able to help him, with a hastily put together respirator system that would be built upon later, but they had to prove the concept while Soren was still alive. The respirator was successful, but there wasn't enough power to keep it working for more than five minutes, necessitating the replacement of power cells repeatedly, it wasn't viable and would prevent Soren from fighting, so they then tried magic as a source of its power. This worked wonders, but only when Soren chipped in, for the technique they used for the now rune-powered rebreather required a link to its wearer. Once established, the system was given as many failsafes as possible to reinforce the unity of magic and technology, by special request from Soren, who would return to fighting 2 years after his grave injury, remaining a fractured, but reinvigorated Bulwark for Ignis.

Name: Eleanor Le Doux, Fierce Shadow Age: 27 Gender: Female Appearance: 6'1'', shoulder length, black hair, blonde highlights, braided ponytail. Eleanor bears a strong but agile and toned body build and generally wears a double-breasted, buttoned up, high collar, black long coat with a few white highlighted areas, black trousers and heeled boots, though the heels are thick and low, rather than stilettos and high, along with leather gloves, silver necklace with a circular, metallic charm engraved with a crescent moon symbol made from amethyst that is known to glow on occasion. Eleanor's eyes are a striking light blue, her face bears a small beauty mark and her skin is lightly tanned. In combat, Eleanor can forge a suit of armour from Darkness in a flash, pictured below, albeit with some added details: A short waist cape, her face is obscured by darkness through the visor, her voice can be distorted to mislead her foes just like the armour's form does. Court Affiliation: Umbra Weapons: Dual Umbran Blades - Eleanor's preferred weapons. Two, simple swords, with ornate hilts engraved with patterns and some of the Umbra Court teachings. The blades themselves are black as night and are of a reasonable length. Semi-automatic Umbran Crossbow - A revolutionary ranged weapon, capable of loading and preparing ammunition on its own, allowing for multiple bolts to be fired in quick succession, though it still requires individual trigger pulls. A quieter alternative to firearms of the age, without the need for the stamina exerted from knocking a bolt into place, only a reload of its magazine. Magic: Like most if not all of those of the Umbra Court, Eleanor is a practitioner of the Dark Arts, demonstrating great aptitude of the control and channeling of Darkness. As she completely shied away from the art of Necromancy, Eleanor was able to fully focus on Darkness and the Shadows, allowing her to fire forth dark energy projectiles from her hands, raw torrents of darkness, temporarily blind foes by tossing shadow energy like sand from her pocket, erupt geysers of dark energy and generally manipulate the energies in useful, destructive and powerful forms. Some of her more advanced techniques include her ability to focus energy into various forms, particularly as energy blades, either from her hands or in place of her blades if they are broken somehow, or a temporary barrier that can block a single attack but will break upon doing so. Darkness is potent on its own, but it can feed off of strong emotions such as anger, hatred, sorrow and despair. Any one of these will increase Eleanor's raw power at the cost of elegance, defense and some rational thought. Completely succumbing to its overwhelming influence offers the greatest boost in power, allowing Eleanor to enter what's known as "Umbran Madness". A rare, but rightfully feared transformation that some members of Court Umbra have dabbled with in the past. Her body is wreathed in an aura of wild darkness, her eyes glow an unsettling yellow that encompasses her eyes fully rather than just the irises and her raw power increases greatly. Very, very few can control this form, fewer still master it and in this untempered form, Eleanor and anyone else who can use it is at risk of Total Corruption, which will "kill" the user, then possess their body, using it as a vessel for destruction. In exchange for these potential dangers, Umbran Madness grants great power, speed and proficiency with Darkness, expanding their range of attacks and their potency. Maintaining even a partially tempered form of Umbran Madness still exerts the body greatly and all forms can be deactivated manually, but the rawest state of Madness deeply tempts with its power the user into keeping it active as to allow it to control them, requiring a very strong will to resist. No one knows what a fully tempered, mastered and controlled Umbran Madness looks like. No one who will tell, anyway. Personality: Eleanor is a fairly reserved, receptive and caring woman, in contrast to her pragmatic, deadly fighting style. Though she embraces parts of the Umbran way, she's fairly disarming in how frequently selfless she can be, almost like an Ignis in her views on justice and helping others while doing her duty. She's only as accepted as she is due to her sheer power over the Darkness and being generally liked for how kind and even funny she can be, though nine times out of ten it's snark, snark and more snark, contrasting how nice she may be, like her blades she is a sharp one. When she uses Umbran Madness, the sheer flow of emotion and power warps Eleanor into the complete opposite. She's loud, boisterous, sinister, power-mad and cruel. All traits that can be worked through with time and practice with the form and its power, but it's no easy task. Even in her regular state however, Eleanor is susceptible to her passions, with her reservation and dignified appearance being an effective veil to try and keep a handle on it, to keep the beast under control ever since she first awakened its might. Background: Born and raised in the Umbra court, Eleanor was trained from an early age like most in their arts, though she always turned her nose up at Necromancy, her direct focus on the power of Darkness and Shadows was to her benefit. Through much effort, training and guidance, she became known as the 'Fierce Shadow' by her peers, for her prowess with dark energy and aggressive fighting style with dual swords. At some point during her private time, where she would meditate to focus her power, she sensed a greater strength sleeping within her soul, one darker than anything she had learned up until that point, so she did her own research. Though no one would openly tell her what this power was, especially what its mastery would entail, Eleanor learned about Umbran Madness, what could cause it and what the common symptoms of its presence were, which included meditation disturbance... Though she has not yet experienced enough anger, passion or anything of the sort, one cannot help but feel it is soon upon her, the only question is when this power would surface. Name: Elliot Luxmore, Radiant Champion of Light, Merciless Protector Age: 34 Gender: Male Appearance: 6'4'', frequently armour clad, but those who've seen his face know his skin to be strangely ashen, his hair long, flowing and pale blonde, his facial features defined but smooth and his eyes are a dark grey. His armour bears angelic qualities and ornaments, is predominantly covered in light shades of cream, gold and silver, while his "chainmail" is a contrasting black, with many clearly defined, small grooves that have a strange red energy intermittently flow through them. The shoulders are pronounced but no bigger than his head, the helmet is closed, hiding his face behind a visor with "eye grates" that glow slightly red, bears very curved horns, towards the visor but not in any way obscuring of his vision, with a halo-like ornament above them and his chest piece has a center, ruby jewel embedded within it, always glowing. The custom-built suit of armour he bears is intended to be comforting for those he fights for and protects, while intimidating and worrying for his foes, a guardian angel for one, an angel of death for another. And just so there isn't any doubt whatsoever about where he stands, his armour bears sigils of Vivifica upon it. Court Affiliation: Vivifica, Defector from Ignis (Hence the demeanor) Weapons: Lightborne Arsenal - Can flash-forge weapons in Light, namely swords, knives, hammers, maces, axes, projectile weapons of many forms, staves and whatever else he can think of, as long as it's a weapon. He holds a preference for a large broadsword and big shield. Magic: Light Mastery, Some degree of Illusion, Presence of the Champion. Elliot is capable of weaving the Light into a multi-faceted and deadly weapon, be it through his Lightborne Arsenal, orbs and beams of Light, pillars of burning Light called from the skies, Searing Light that blasts and temporarily blinds foes who look directly into its flash for too long, flight through light-woven wings and seemingly, the ability to modify and dismiss his armour with ease, through use of the Light. His body outside of the armour constantly radiates an aura of soft, warming but unsettling Light and in his armour, he constantly holds a particular aura about him, his presence is calming to innocents and his allies, but unnerving for the guilty and/or his foes. Some of his allies in Vivifica theorize that he can refract Light as to maintain any Illusions he casts, like the unnerving qualities of his out-of-armour look. Personality/Background: A steadfast, indomitable Knight on the exterior, something is deeply wrong with Elliot on the inside. Not because he is a merciless, brutal combatant who balances Defense and Offense in a vicious, weaponmaster-like fighting style that keeps his opponents on edge and even scared before ending their lives for great justice, or because his skin is pale and his armour sometimes just evokes terror more than anything else, but because those who can sense his aura note that they cannot...feel something about him. They don't feel a true physical presence, but rather something ethereal, something deceptive, something...out of place. Back in Ignis, he was nothing of the sort. He was still steadfast, indomitable and had no qualms about killing his enemies to protect the innocent, but he was kinder, talkative beyond just mission talk or mandates, his body, his presence, his skin, even his voice was still normal and thus, accentuated his calming effect, not to mention he represented Ignis's ideals more than perfectly upon a less menacing, Ignis-marked armour. But something changed him a long time ago...something that warped him from the inside out, leading to a silent, sudden departure from Ignis to join Vivifica. The only thing he has seemingly, truly held onto in this timeframe has been his desire to protect the innocent, the never-ending fight for justice that he will never tire of. It's the one thing that keeps him from truly descending into something terrible... Name: Gabriel Woods, The Soaring Raven Age: 30 Gender: Male Appearance: 6'3'', neck-length, black hair and stubble beard. Gabriel is often clad in light chest armour, arm guards, trousers, a long hooded cape pinned upon him by a silver raven charm, thick boots, a belt of many things such as his sword, money and anything else he needs in pouches. His eyes are a rare dark green and his build is an agile, but strong one. Court Affiliation: Unaffiliated, Bounty Hunter, Mercenary, Partnered with Arno Cross Weapons: Nevermore, Soaring Blade - A long, simple looking broadsword that has served Gabriel well in his time as a Mercenary. The fuller is engraved with words in an unknown language, the pommel has a few tiny symbols around its small, triangular gap in the middle and it is charged with Itika, raw mana, banned from the land of Regalia outright, granting it currently unknown powers, but Gabriel didn't do this himself, because during a job gone wrong, his sword was stolen by a particularly rogue member of Court Vivifica, who enhanced the blade with some stolen Itika against his will. Raven's Imprecation - Magically-charged, single action Revolver that fires high-powered, burning projectiles at high speed. Though its appearance is simple, the black-coloration was not done with paint, but it was dyed that way from being exposed to so much dark energy. Magic: Charged Dark Energy, Polymorphy and Itika Potential. An agile, powerful bruiser at heart, Gabriel can assail opponents with dark energy, rapid, damaging sword strikes and hold his own very well in a duel even against a few opponents at once. He is capable of flight by transforming into a large, darkness-enshrouded Raven, for travel or combat application where necessary, can focus his dark energy into his fist for a ground pound that'll send enemies flying or at least shake them to their cores, temporary boosts of speed accompanied by trails of darkness and black feathers, sword beams, charged shots from his revolver and the usual, standard powers that one can use with Darkness flowing through them. Itika bears unknown levels of potential, meaning its benefits for Gabriel are unknown, but he's hoping it'll pay off at some point. Personality: An astonishingly courteous, talkative man who's been in the business for quite some time now, having made a name for himself fairly early on. While a motivator of his is primarily money, gold, the like, he won't choose it over friends or lives he considers innocent, preferring to do the right thing, while being a troublesome at least and terrifying at most force against his marks, making liberal use of his transformation powers, darkness and sometimes blinding speed. Gabriel lives for thrills however, leading him to seek big and powerful targets, hoping one day he gets contracted to kill a giant monster. He has thoughts on the Feud between the Courts, particularly the departure of Vivifica after meeting the man who either blessed or cursed his sword, he doesn't know which yet, but generally keeps it to himself unless prompted or its necessary, not wanting to seem biased to his potential customers unless it meets the previous criteria. Fitting for someone in his line of work, Gabriel bears the gift of the silver tongue, which has gotten him out of trouble without even needing to raise his sword more than a few times and gotten him into people's good books, the ladies included. Background: Born in "None of your business, friend" as he prefers to state, but in truth, he doesn't remember where he's from, who his parents are or why his earliest memory is from when he was seven, standing outside in the rain in front of a Tavern. And even that one is fuzzy for reasons other than the ones people would expect. Gabriel wasn't a fool though, for he would later come to the conclusion that someone has screwed with his memories of the past, perhaps even brainwashed him, he dreads to think any deeper than that, but he used his time wisely by his standards, taking odd jobs at first, but would become a full-time Mercenary at age 17, that he remembers very clearly, just like everything afterwards. Almost too perfectly, especially compared to some events before that. For the next 13 years, he would add Bounty Hunter to his list of jobs, take out many a nefarious target, run his mouth where needed, take a few hits here and there and end up in a fair few sticky situations, most of them still ending with a good payday from his grateful, happy client. Otherwise, he just pilfers from the dead, justifying that they were jackasses or creeps anyway, they weren't gonna use them even when they were alive before meeting him. A couple of months ago from now was a very eventful day indeed. During a hit on a troublesome "Nomad", one of the terms coined for Mages who don't belong to any particular court or even do jobs like Merc work, Gabriel bumped into Arno Cross, a fellow Bounty Hunter and Mercenary, after they were both captured in a surprise attack by the Nomad, who knew he was being trailed. While bound, they got to talking and even the loner that was Arno indulged the wordsmith Gabe, soon leading to Gabriel escaping his binds. He then had a choice: Pursue the mark and leave Arno for dead or free him and split the profits due to the joint job. In less than a second, Gabriel chose the latter, not wanting to leave his new friend behind. Together, they got the jump on the Nomad this time, put him down and got paid. Ever since, a grateful Arno, who'd never say it really, has allowed Gabriel to tag along with him, granting the side effect of bolstering both of their reputations as word spread that two of the top Mercenaries and Bounty Hunters in the land were now working together... (Do let me know if adjustments need making. I was a little uncertain if a character of mine could use Itika, but I kept its use unknown on purpose, other than its infusion with Gabe's sword. :P)

- Lucia Quinn, the Raging Tempest - The Safe Haven: Cafeteria - For a while, Lucia remained quiet as she pondered what to do before the expedition began and thus, the hunt for the Dragon and its esteemed gall bladder, key to remedying Uzumeashy's ailment, which was far more severe than the cook had allowed the others to see for themselves. More training? There was only so much good inanimate training dummies could do for one in the realm of self-improvement and combat techniques. This lead to her wondering how she would fare squaring off with one of her allies in combat...but who would give her a sufficient challenge? Taking a seat at a table in pondering, she was so enamored in thought that she failed to notice Hogarth was at the table as well, so she sat opposite him, unaware of his presence, resting her head upon her arm against the table, furrowing her brow as her eyes darted around all present for a few moments, then down to the floor. - Reksis Sahn, the Void Stalker - The Safe Haven: Cafeteria - Reksis however held little interest in sparring, instead pondering to himself regarding the Void, wondering to himself just how strong it could become and how much power he would attain with enough focus, meditation and practice. He had also ordered a cup of tea at his own table, as his curiosity from his last chat with Hektor had not yet been slaked, the order being placed brought Reksis a chuckle from his Ghost, though he did not miss the humor in the situation either in fairness.

Truly, it has been an honour and a privilege to have participated in Overworld all the way to its completion. I've had my own moments, my failings, lessons learned, but it has been an overall amazing experience. And I cannot thank you enough for making it possible in the first place, Mystics. And all of you as well! Thank you, you beautiful bastards. Here's to our next RP together!

- Lucia Quinn, the Raging Tempest - The Safe Haven, Several Weeks after the Attack - Lucia had woken up earlier than most on this day, to perform a daily task of hers: Training. During this time, the Arena's Training Room was quiet, unoccupied and able to be used by anyone who desired the space until it was needed. As the sun barely began to rise above the sanctuary, the crackle of the Arc resounded throughout the arena, along with grunts of exertion from a fully focused Lucia, her body swimming in lightning, like never before as her staff and body seemingly moved as one, striking the training dummies and leaving burn marks upon them, fresher than those that already scarred the motionless figures. She sought to focus her power, to strike at distant foes as she reached out with the Arc, at first only sending out wayward sparks, but with enough time and the right motion, Lucia let her energy be unleashed with a vicious swipe along the ground, sending forth a pulsing wave of Arc energy, the power exploding several times before impacting with the training dummy, knocking it off of its stand. A satisfied smile crept across Lucia's sweat-laden face as she slung her staff over her shoulder, resetting the dummy and grabbing her bottle, taking a deep swig of water and wiping the sweat from her brow. It was then that she received a particularly loud letter, dismissing her staff in a flash of lightning and her aura settled as she opened it up and read the contents to herself, a particular detail catching her eye. "A dragon, hmm? Finally, a challenge...!" Lucia spoke aloud to herself, though she knew there had to be something else to it. It's not everyday one gets asked to kill a Dragon, particularly without a catch. Without delay, Lucia took herself to the Cafeteria. ------------------------ Entering the Cafeteria, Lucia was met with the many faces of her comrades and Uzumeashy, the sender of the letter. Before Uzu addressed everyone, Lucia spotted Kolm at first, giving him a smile, before listening to Uzumeashy's explanation silently. Afterwards, Pang entered the fray, happy to hear his willingness to help the cook with her woes. Stepping forward, Lucia spoke up. "Count me in as well. If not only to help you, I've been itching for a chance to test my skills. A dragon sounds right up my ally~" Lucia proffered, her right fist raised slightly and clenched in anticipation upon mention of the dragon. - Reksis Sahn, the Voidstalker - The Safe Haven, Reksis's Room - After waking from his rest, Reksis elected to meditate on the Void Light, as his Ghost suggested several weeks ago. He had been doing so every day since, but today was when he made his breakthrough. As the Eliksni sat upon the ground, his eyes closed, his body glowing a dark purple as Void energy swirled around him gently, he could feel something as it were...the power touched his mind, just as it did when he first claimed it before The Haven took him. He saw something within him...something, that became words. The Void sees you, Reksis, just as you see it. You will break your opponents with a decisive blow. Your power will shred through their paltry defenses, only if you will it. And their lives shall be forfeit, so long as you embrace the Void. Accept the Light. Accept the Void. Be the fighter, the scout, the stalker through the darkness, your current allies need. With this, Reksis felt a new understanding of his power, clenching his fists as Void energy surged through them, before rising to his feet and reading a letter that just began making loud, unfamiliar sounds at him. Opening it, Reksis quickly noticed that the writer certainly needed practice, but her message came across nevertheless. So, he roused his Ghost and they took off for the Cafeteria. ----------------------------- "I will accompany as well." Reksis stated as he came into the room, just after everything had been explained, but that would do little to dissuade him. "Little Light here has told me as much as he can about this so called "Dragon", so I believe we'll need all the numbers we can muster for such a great beast." He went on, his Ghost floating next to him, moving in a fashion suggesting he was proud of himself, before he too spoke up. "We'll need to watch ourselves. If Dragons are anything like the myths on my world suggest, or worse, like Ahamkara's, we have to give our best and nothing less." Ghost warned, looking to everyone present as he went on.

- Meksis, the United, Armour of Twilight - Epilogue, Kilkis Seres - Unlike most, the Chaperone Meksis, Protector of the Innocent, was not present at the final battle for the fate of the worlds and all reality, to stop the madness of the Fused Deity Ahriman, later Ahriman Umbra, but in the end, the Aspect of Destruction was obliterated, his spirit released and then, his actions undone, even his creation, by an intrepid group of heroes that Meksis couldn't help but about, except all he heard as a result of the time travel that they didn't disclose, was that they stopped the Queenslayer and another man, from stealing a great, forbidden source of power and destroying everything. With the willing sacrifice of a human, they were able to restore the Human World, but what hurt Meksis the most was that the one who was lost was Henry Hansees. It didn't feel like it was that long ago since he met the man, the impressive man of valor and integrity, whom he had complimented in person and encouraged him to press on...now he was dead? In the name of the race that hated his kind for the longest time? In spite of his sadness, he only admired Henry more, for he was truly selfless in his final moments. He also heard that Soren Monroe insisted that Henry's name be mentioned and remembered...in a way, Soren finally got his wish: For Humans to be respected just as Fey would, even in a small way by comparison. For a while in fact, Meksis was wandering aimlessly, with the recently restored Hektor in tow, who's concern and company was appreciated in such a dark time. The loss of his blood brother weighed heavier than he cared to admit and though Henry's nobility was comforting, his loss too was a blow to Meksis's heart. Without Maxis, the Chaperone, one who's supposed to know his direction, to guide and protect people under his watch, was directionless for the first time in his life... One day, he turned to Hektor and asked him to let him wander alone, as to try and collect himself. Though the gentleman refused at first, fearing for Meksis's state of mind, the insistence and reassurance he was only just able to muster was enough to convince him to allow it, though it was with a word of warning, as even such a stalwart man like Meksis would find himself to be vulnerable in the face of such loss. The two parted ways, with Meksis promising he would come back one day, as he kept wandering the Overworld, eventually ending up in... - The Ambrosia Forest - The wind was blowing lightly through the trees, their leaves fluttering in turn as the sounds of insects, small animals and birds filled the air around the astray Meksis. It was almost relaxing...yet what was foreboding was the distant noise of chatter, sounding heated as if an argument was going on in the distance. His senses sharpening and cracking his tightening 'neck', Meksis took off towards the noise. Soon enough, Meksis came across what appeared to be a camp of some kind. In it were large tents, a decent sized campfire and amidst all of it and around it were armoured soldiers, bearing the insignia of Kilkis Seres...why were Knights of the Queen's, or rather, King's Army stationed in a Forest? There were seven Knights, one of them was wounded, kneeling next to one of the tents, while two were arguing angrily; the one to Meksis's left was dressed a little more elaborately and looked aged, bearing the marks of a General, while the one to his right was a Captain, young and clean shaven. The latter was seemingly very distressed, while the former was just angry...and had his sword drawn, covered in blood, presumably that of the wounded man, who was just a Second-Class Knight...what the hell was-- "--going on here?!" Meksis called out as he approached, startling the General who pointed his blade at Meksis. "Stay back, Knight! This is of no concern of yours!!" He shouted dismissively, lacking the commanding tone men of his rank acquire through experience, only deepening Meksis's concerns. "He's mad, sir! He had us desert during the war--!" "Stay your tongue, Captain!" The Captain began, but was cut off by the General, who now sounded desperate...so quickly, yet rightly so. Meksis found himself shaking his head slowly. "Deserters...? General, explain yourself...now!" He ordered, taking a firm stance and outright shouting his last word, leaving the General quaking in his mud-covered boots. "And can someone help that man?!" "No! He's a traitor, leave him!" Meksis would add, but a quick order from the General only served to anger him. "A traitor?! Explain!!" The General swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes darting between the Captain and the wounded Knight. "Tell him then...tell him, you coward!" The Captain spoke with disgust, but it was a mistake, for it pushed the General over the edge, who simply yelled as he attempted to stab the Captain, but would be met with a Greatsword between his own blade and the Captain, in the hands of an angered Meksis, who's Aura was that of Light and Darkness. Meksis swiped the General's sword out of his hand with minimal effort, pointing the blade at the nerve-wracked and maddened leader. "Under the jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Kilkis Seres, in accordance with the Rules of Engagement, Section 7, Paragraph 14, I am placing you under arre...a-arre, I am...p-pla...plaaaaaagonna give you what you deserve! General!!" With a red flash of his eyes, Meksis raised his blade suddenly, cutting the General's chin, slicing him in a downward-diagonal motion, bringing it back with a horizontal swipe, then lunging forward, grabbing the General's shoulder so hard it began to bleed immediately, but that was the least of his worries, as Meksis's Greatsword was now embedded in his gut, with the Defiled giving a sadistic chuckle as he yanked the blade out, spun the General around on the spot and kicked him over, causing him to fall into the campfire, beginning to scream as the flames burned him. Before he could get up though, an armoured boot pressed down on his head, keeping him in the flames as Meksis began to laugh. "H-Hey, hey! That's enough! He's a sick bastard, bu-but don't you, you think that's too much!?" The Captain suddenly piped in, noting Meksis's unusual behavior and gleeful sadism as he punished the General more than he thought necessary. Meksis however, simply turned his head toward the Captain, tilting it just a little, unnerving the poor Fey. "You're so right..." He uttered softly in a deeper, distorted yet oddly clear voice, which already brought no relief to the shocked Captain, but his fear was worsened when he heard a sickening crunch...Meksis had crushed the General's head beneath his boot, lifting his foot out of the campfire to properly face the Captain, taking deep breaths and chuckling lightly. "Meksis?! That's enough, give me back control!" "No. I do not wish to." The Defiled spoke aloud to the Chaperone's internal voice and would continue to do so. "I thought we were past this, what are you doing?!" "Taking advantage...of a great opportunity, my friend." "What damned opportunity?!" "Your weakness." "Wh...what?!" "Your grief. It opened the way, brother. The way to your fall...and my rise~" "No, stop this now! Now! Let me...back...in-in control...!! Why can't I--?!" As this debate went on, Meksis's Aura, which was originally still a united mixture of Light and Darkness was now fluctuating, the energies seemingly warring with each other once again, but this time...the Light was faltering as the Chaperone attempted to wrestle back control, failing and straining as the Darkness dominated the Light...all the while, the Knights stood there, watching. Paralyzed with fear and indecision, their breaths shallow and fast as their brains screamed at them to run or fight for their lives. "Now...time for a bit more fun. Wouldn't you agree? O Captain? My Captain~" Within mere moments, the Defiled was already in motion, the Captain hardly had time to react before he was gutted like a fish, his insides burned with a dark flame as he was tossed into a tent...the tent for the six other wounded Knights which caught alight, burning them all alive as the chaos continued, with the other Knights desperately charging at Meksis, attempting to stop him. But one by one, they fell in their own miserable, cruel and agonizing ways, be it repeated slashes and stabs, electrocution, suffocating and slowly corrupting them with darkness or flaying them alive with his considerable power, until all he was left with was the wounded Second-Class Knight, who turned away from the carnage out of terror, but could feel the creeping darkness of the Defiled as he now loomed over him, blood dripping from his darkened blade. The Knight looked up at Meksis, eyes wide with fear, hyperventilating with pain and desperation. "P-Please! Have, *cough* have mercy! Please, please don't kill meeee...!" The Knight begged and begged, openly sobbing as he whimpered before the corrupted armour, who simply knelt down and raised the Knight's chin with a soft cup from his free hand. "Oh you poor little wounded lamb...attacked by the so-called leader whom you swore service to...who had you desert a great battle between Fey and Human-Fey forces, oh I remember it all so fondly now~ I made my first kill there, you know...a little dragon boy named Ren Mordecai, know him?" The Defiled was met with a terrified silence, so he shook his head with a low laugh. "He was a mighty warrior, he could even transform into a Wind Drake! *Contented sigh* Ren was a good fight...If only he wasn't mortal, then we could've battled for as long as I wanted. And, well...if my brother didn't spoil the fun. It's a funny thing, isn't it? In life, you could be having the time of your life, high as a kite and then! Upon! A! Sudden! ...from the heavens descends the spoilsport who tells you that you've had enough?! I decide when enough is enough! And you know what?! From now on, I really, truly do make the deci--...oh dear." The Defiled kept talking, but unbeknownst to himself, with every punctuated word, he spoke more angrily and had accidentally stabbed the Knight to death with his own sword, then stabbed a few more times after that to relieve some stress before discovering what he had done. Meksis just laughed out loud for a second, before calming down instantly and dismissively tossing away the Knight's body, standing up tall as he clutched his head. "You utter monster! How could you do this?! You traitor, you conniving son of a--" "Oh will you be quiet already, brother?! Shut up!! Your voice grows wearisome, almost as much as your misplaced trust in me being broken...how did you even make that trust in the first place, you simpleton?! You trusted the voice in your head?! The Dark Infection was able to convince the Chaperone, the unbreakable warrior, to trust him?! You completely Grief-mad idiot!! Oh...you were just so lonely after the death of your simpering Blood Brother and the abandonment of dear old Hektor, weren't you...? Oh how sweet~ Your big Heart has just lost you your body! And it's all your fault!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!" "I won't let you keep it, nor this power, Infection! No matter what, it will never remain yours!!" "Heh heh heh...oh but now that you mention it...you're so very right! No one is truly infallible, all except divine beings, of course...I may have my own moment of weakness too...you'll smell blood in the water, and WHAM! The Chaperone is back, baby! Time to dispense some Justice because I am the best!!" Amidst the semi-childish and maddened ramblings of the Defiled, from one lone tent emerged the worried head of a black haired, young and skinny man, who simply watched for a while as the Armour talked to itself, but then began to slowly sneak out as to not be noticed by Meksis...that is, until he stood on a fallen twig, causing the Defiled to lurch around in a nanosecond, his eyes narrowing on the young man, glowing a brilliant crimson. "Then let us sift out the Light...and let Darkness prevaaaaaaaaill!!" The Defiled screamed out, which caused the man to try and run, but to no avail, as Meksis had already imprisoned him in a snare of shadows, then began to focus the Light that still remained in his aura, taking deep, concentrated breaths as the power began to consolidate and coalesce around his extended arms to his sides, they were now glowing with a brilliant Light. "Wait, what are you do--...no! NO!!" The Chaperone's voice could be heard now, as a strange spectral presence, due to his actual spirit being in the Defiled's now outstretched hands, having separated it from the Living Armour's ancient, sacred bonds, as they now took hold over a purely dark, infected spirit that would visibly begin to take over the Armour of Meksis. "Make yourself at home, brother!! It'll be yours forevermore!!" With this, The Defiled released the Spirit of the Chaperone forward, causing it to rush towards the next, healthy and living vessel: The ensnared young man, who couldn't even say a word before Meksis's Spirit entered his body and swiftly, unconsciously and utterly overwhelmed the man's weaker spirit, Meksis regretfully and unintentionally subsuming him and now housing his body, which was then released from the snare of darkness, leaving Meksis kneeling on the floor, gasping for actual air, instead of a subconscious habit, managing to look upon his hand, now the flesh and blood of someone else as he lay gasping. "No...! ...young man...I am so sorry..." Meksis apologized to the long gone spirit of the man he had been forced to possess, while the Defiled stood proud in a fully corrupted and powerful armoured body, now in complete control as his infection spread fully, turning the Armour of Meksis into a organic-metallic horrifying hybrid, yet it all seemingly merged perfectly together, as the Defiled Infection had become far more powerful than Meksis could've imagined. The Defiled Infection now had a mouth and visible eyes, though his cheeks were split and filled with teeth as well as he grinned maniacally at Meksis, before thrusting his free hand forth at the man, sending a small, but extremely dark orb, literally dripping with Darkness at Meksis, which traveled too fast for the man to react to, as it entered via his chest and sent extreme pain throughout his body...true pain for the first time in over five millennia, before looking at his hands as he clutched his chest. His skin started cracking and flaking off. "What have you done to me?!" Meksis called out in fear and surprise, looking straight at the Defiled Infection, who laughed devilishly. "An insurance policy, brother! As well as the mortal body of a Fey rather than your armour, I've placed a curse upon you that will slowly deteriorate your body and spirit. Eventually, you will be naught but a pile of dust and a shattered spirit...unable to move your mortal body. And your spirit unable to pass on to the next world..." The Defiled Infection explained the situation clearly, but he was very clearly enjoying describing just how bad it was to the extremely scared and angry Meksis, who just screamed at him as the feeling soon dawned on the now mortal Chaperone, who fell to a fetal position in a moment of unbridled despair, which only provoked laughter from the Defiled. "So, *ahem*, essentially...your life is over. And your body? Your power? It is all mine~ And soon, the new legacy of Meksis...shall begin." Time slowed down for Meksis, the Defiled's words echoing in his mind, his skin flaking and the disintegrating particles floated off of his decrepit body as his breathing became slow and was eventually all he could hear, just for a few moments that just felt like forever, but during them he closed his eyes tightly. Was this truly the end? Was all that lay ahead of Meksis a deafening, unending Darkness that he would never be free from? Would he truly never be with his wife in the world beyond ever again...? Would countless innocents be butchered, maimed and slaughtered, all in his name?! .................. ........................... ........................................ ......"No..."..... With this uttered word, time resumed as normal and Meksis's eyes suddenly opened, his irises no longer the brown of the young man, but a brilliant blue as he began to pick himself up off of the ground, as the Defiled's laughter slowly ceased, his arms lowering as he wondered what Meksis was playing at, as he stood as tall as he was able, despite still falling apart. "I won't allow this...I cannot allow this...!" The Defiled merely laughed. "You're going to die, Meksis! What can you possibly do now?! Ha-haHA! HAHAHAHA!" "If I let you leave...you'll kill innocent people...you'll sully the name of the Chaperone, my name!" "I know! And you'll have to live with it for an eternity! As a pile of dust! Hahaha!" "You will cause terror! Misery! Despair! You will bring nothing but a bastardized Darkness to the world!!" "Oh well at least you recognize that not all that is Darkness is like me...it's why I'm better!" "I swear on it...I swear on my name as the Chaperone, on the legacy of Maxis, on the sacrifice of Henry, on all of the world..." "And in the end, all you'll be able to do is--" "I WILL NOT LET YOU WIN!!" A brilliant flash of light erupted from Meksis, who suddenly was in front of the Defiled and had his hand around the infection's throat...this was the Solidarity of the Chaperone, supercharged for a few precious moments to allow him to overpower the Defiled, who was so stunned that he barely resisted, while Meksis spoke. "I will not leave this earth, but I will not suffer in a dark, deafening silence...I will end your vile life!" The Defiled would then widen his eyes, as the true appearance of Meksis, a healthy, invigorated and younger looking Nergal it would look like, superimposed itself upon Meksis's current body for a few moments, as he spoke his next words. "And I will protect the innocent! From creatures like you!!" In a swift motion, Meksis took something from the Defiled's Satchet, pocketed it, then took hold of the Defiled's Armoured Chest with both hands, letting him go, but now the infection would feel a great deal of pain as Meksis motioned some actions via sleight of hand, leaving the Defiled unable to discern what he was doing. "Wha-what are you--!?" Soon the Defiled was flooded with Light to further stun him and with another swift motion: A hard throw, he was tossed across the camp into one of the last tents, Meksis glared at him, his eyes glowing blue as the sky, slowly raising his hand to show the Defiled what he had just relieved him of with the throw. The Defiled's blood red eyes widened as he frantically pawed at his chest...something was missing...something necessary... The Seal. That bound a Living Armour's Spirit to their metallic vessel, which if removed-- "N-No!! How did you?! Give it back to me--!" The Defiled began to choke on his words as the effects could already be felt. "Second Generation Armours always had a design flaw...with a special motion, one could break and remove their seal with minimal resistance from the Armour itself...it's a good thing the only ones who figured it out were Armours like myself. It was strange...you could only remove the seals of the First Gen via exorcism, and it seemed so with us...but strangely enough, this flaw allowed us to put a stop to any rogue Second Gens, overwhelmed with Darkness. We just never told our creators or the public how we did it. Always left quite the look on their face...just like yours." Meksis explained, he was still seething with rage at the Defiled, though at this point, he had already won as the Defiled began to "fall apart", so he coldly mocked him as the Dark Spirit was visibly beginning to separate from the Armour of Meksis. "No...! NOOOO! THIS WAS MINE! MY MOMENT...MY--AGH, MY...MEKSIS!!!" The Armour of Meksis fell to the ground, the infection within it disintegrated without its master, which now floated above the armour, in an incorporeal form, seething with rage as it grew unstable, enraged. "Damn you...! *Sigh* But...all is not lost, no no no...even in this form, I will bring you despair! And death!!" "Tenebris unum: vinctum!" As it turned out, Meksis had stolen back "In Shaping Worlds and Nations" from his Defiled self, the ancient tome handed to him by Ivany, opened it and spoke words of power that restrained the Defiled Spirit in a Arcane Sigil. He then began to speak another ancient language from the book, holding out his hand which glowed as it channeled energy into the dark spirit. Care- vamme harna en-. Care- vamme suy- en-. N- made minna úqua, móre er. Care- vamme vanta sina nór en-. Every spoken phrase did something to the Defiled Spirit...each one final and binding. His power was taken from him. His mind was torn asunder. His incorporeal form was transformed into a small, purple-black crystal. The crystal was rendered inert, forever silencing his voice and his deranged ambition. Meksis closed the book, putting it in his new coat pocket, walking up to the crystal, kneeling to pick it up, standing to look at it closely, making sure all of the incantations had their desired effects. Once satisfied, he cast a spell that would create a portal to a different dimension, but didn't state which one, then after it opened next to him, he tossed the crystal into it and closed it up, never checking exactly where the inert prison for the Defiled was going, no did he care anymore... The Chaperone was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but he was cut off by a disgusting, throaty coughing fit. The Solidarity had faded and Meksis began to die again. "I'm running out of time...!" He managed to speak in hoarse voice, muttering a word to the removed seal as it spontaneously transformed itself by his command into something else: A sheathed Katana, one that would be capable of cutting through anything, due to it being rendered as the opposite to a seal. Placing it in his left hand, Meksis quickly picked up his old Greatsword...it was now drained of its power and broken in half. Still long, but now it would only serve a purpose...one that would save his life, but first and foremost, he had to be quick. Sheathing the broken Greatsword, Meksis unsheathed the Katana, cutting a portal and stumbling through it. He had to move fast if he was going to survive. - End of Part 1 - (Very long one, I know. And there will be more. lol)

- Lucia Quinn, the Raging Tempest - The Safe Haven: Combat Arena - A smile formed on Lucia's lips when Pang reassured her that he was fine and that he was more than up for a trip to the cafeteria, as to set his mind at ease and to talk further, thus she followed him and Ceres without delay out of the Arena, though Pang's query didn't go unnoticed. In fact, she let out a small chuckle in reply before going on. "I am more than a fan of parties, it's just that I didn't find I could join in the celebrations in good conscience, knowing that you were angered and saddened...I felt I had to make sure you were all right, first and foremost." Lucia explained, though she soon realized something. "Not that I'm condemning those who did stick around, of course. It was just that for me personally, I could not." She elaborated quickly, but calmly with a small smile of reassurance to the white tiger. She then looked to Ceres, who had already spoken with Pang to calm him and just keep him company. "I assume you went for similar reasons, Ceres?" Lucia quizzed out of curiosity more than anything else. - Reksis Sahn, the Voidstalker - The Safe Haven: Cafeteria - The revelation of Hogarth's cybernetic limb came as no surprise to Reksis or his Ghost, both with Hogarth's world seemingly being a technological tug-of-war and the technological advancements of both Reksis's Eliksni and the Humans/Exo/Awoken of the Last City of Earth and beyond for the Ghost. The Ghost was even tempted to scan the arm, but before he could begin moving, Reksis calmly gestured that he remain where he was, Ghost understanding silently. "Fascinating, yet, unsurprising to myself. My people have worn cybernetic limbs for years, usually our lower set of arms, though I knew of at least one who just had his upper arms lost and a fair few others who sacrificed more in the pursuit of ascension via technology, to become the Machine Gods we worship themselves, as it were..." Reksis spoke in reply to Hogarth's revelation, looking at his own limbs, all of which were 100% pure Eliksni, though he always considered himself lucky that he was able to keep them. "It's not a belief I hold however. Our "great" machines are called Servitors, who serve a few purposes: Supply us with the artificial Light known as Ether, to sustain us as both food and a necessity for living, along with combat purposes...but with the formation of the House of Dusk, many old traditions were bucked in favor of survival, including old rivalries, rules and the worship of Servitors, instead...we use them more practically. All of this gives us more Ether, greater numbers and an intimacy our people haven't known since the Homeworld days." Reksis mused, seemingly in reply to Hogarth's desire to learn more about everyone, though even Reksis's Ghost floated a little closer, absorbing this information eagerly. "Like I said before however. I'm a lucky one, to have this Ghost and the gift of true Light. It's what gives me power over the Void, which you saw earlier against those damned Triffids, it worked wonders, but it is only the most basic of Void Light-based powers...I've much to learn and yet, I feel a greater understanding of the power already." He went on, letting out a satisfied chuckle that his Ghost approved of as he spoke of the Void Light. "Maybe one day, my people will share in this glory...*Ahem* But that's enough from me for now." Reksis concluded, feeling he had to let others have their say.

- Soren Monroe, The Sentinel: Epilogue, Jynn's Coronation - Three weeks...such a short amount of time since the end of everything had loomed, yet it felt like years. Years, passages of time that felt just as long to a eternal Fey as they did to a mortal Human, yet many squandered them. Some didn't think it possible to squander an eternity, but one can always be surprised. Soren, despite his years of military service to the Royal Army, ascension to the position of Sentinel for Isopolis, even managing the Shrine's Prison Cells, felt he had also squandered his eternity. Not because he was wasting his time, far from it, many of his years had been the best of his life and he has learned much from his mistakes including his grandest being the betrayal of Queen Shiva, but rather because there was unfinished business that desperately needed attending to, always being sidelined by Soren's desire to live a new life on the surface world, beyond the hellish pits of the chaotic Tartarus, or by the more important tasks of saving the worlds from a pompous, insane Deity. After today however, nothing would get in the way...tomorrow, after Jynn's Coronation, he would settle things. Once and for all. But today, Soren Monroe was dressed in his dress blues, holding a sword-cane to his side with tidied up hair and a cleaned up face, next to a newly restored Lord Raiden of Mystras, much to his delight, the man he once knew was still alive, originally trapped in a merger with his other half; Teshub, or the Infiltrator that Soren had crossed paths with at the Shrine, who wasn't particularly happy with his current situation, but he didn't matter to Soren right now. If Raiden passed a gaze his way, Soren would offer a friendly smile. It was then however, that Jynn entered the room, forcing all to attention upon his entrance, Soren included, who stood tall and proud of the boy, for stepping up and being ready to take his rightful place where his mother once was. ------------------------------- - Several Hours Earlier - Isopolis, Prison Cells - The cells of Isopolis's Prison were filled with chatter, as inmates talked amongst themselves, for they often did so when the Warden wasn't present. They chatted about many things: What the events at Isopolis entailed and why they were being kept a secret? Would the new inmates acclimatize quickly? Where was the Warden? What was for lunch? A large door clanked and swung open, bringing a deafening silence across the cells as a dark figure loomed, a large, flaming greatsword at his side as he marched forward with intent, his footsteps heavy as he took large strides toward the cell of one of the newest inmates. The ashen skinned prisoner looked up as his cell door was unlocked and swung open, the figure immediately grabbing him and dragging him out of his cell across the floor, continuing toward a new door to the side despite the man's protests. How could this be? He was not to be executed! The Warden promised mercy! Why was this happening?! Could someone please save him?! "Yevgeni?! SOMEONE?! NOOOOO--" His screams were cut off by the door slamming, immediately being surrounded by a Sound-Proofing Spell as it was locked up tight. It remained this way for several minutes, silence falling upon the inmates who dared not speak but were nonetheless surprised and afraid, wondering why the Warden had suddenly done this, yet at the same time, they didn't feel too much sympathy for the Queenslayer as he was dragged to his sudden doom. Soon afterwards, the door was opened and from it, flung a headless, ashen corpse, which was soon taken away by two Guardsmen, to be burned. As it so seemed: The Queenslayer was dead. -------------------------------

- Lucia Quinn, the Raging Tempest - The Safe Haven, Arena Audience Stands - Lucia didn't take notice to fellow allies of the Haven in the streets, for she was too focused on getting to the Arena where Pang was last sighted, quickly entering and head through to the stairs to the audience stands, though just before she reached Pang's sight, she herself caught sight of him with Ceres, engaging in a good heart-to-heart and he seemed calmer, though not completely relieved of his sorrow, it was a better state than the one she was worried about. Feeling a smile subconsciously creep onto her face, Lucia resumed her approach, standing with a hand on her hip next to Pang and Ceres. "And here I was thinking I'd have to drag you to the cafeteria for a chat myself. You're putting me out of a job, Ceres." Lucia spoke cheekily, but a small laugh that followed would clue Pang into her honesty and happiness that he was better than before, then sighing with relief. "You all right, Pang? Mind if I join the both of you, wherever you're going?" She added, brushing her hair out of her face. - Reksis Sahn, the Voidstalker - The Safe Haven, Cafeteria - Reksis simply listened intently to the story Hektor had to tell, about his homeland, past life and briefly touching on a few details he didn't care to expand upon just yet, before turning his attention to Rhiannon. "Your world sounds marvelous, Hektor!" Ghost interjected enthusiastically, though Reksis was not quite as eager. "I have to agree, it was quite marvelous by the sounds of it." He said, noting Hektor's use of the past tense, but electing not to press on further, instead his mind wandered, but he kept talking. "My homeworld...heh, it's not something I've had the pleasure of witnessing. It is only known in Eliksni Legend, or folklore even...lost to us in The Whirlwind, our Great Machine fleeing in its wake. Since then, we've lived amongst the humans, though not on the greatest of terms, having to scavenge and scrounge for what we can get...I'm a lucky one, to have this Ghost of the Great Machine, to put it lightly." Reksis spoke somberly, but caught himself after mentioning his Ghost, at first because he was getting very personal, but then realizing he was being a little rude. "My apologies, I've interrupted you, Rhiannon. Please, go on." He added sincerely, a light bow of his head followed.

Name: Maximilian Strider, Lux Twin Nickname: Max Race: Human Age: 21 Gender: Male Height: 6'3 Appearance: Tall and toned from training and exercise, Max is a physically fit man with neck length styled dark brown hair, which while spiky, is not quite as much as Roxas's and certainly not Sora's but as such, doesn't fall into his eyes, with a short beard along his jaw, chin and upper lip. Max has a small vertical scar along the tip of his right eyebrow, just on the bottom of his forehead and through to the cheekbone and has dark green eyes. He wears a white double breasted tunic secured with a brown belt, a pair of slightly grey slacks and shin-high boots, with a black ring upon his right hand ring finger with special engravings upon it. Personality: Under the tutelage of his lost master, Maximilian has grown over the years into a well-disciplined and rightfully prideful man, aspiring to teach others should they so desire, taking after his master's personality for the most part; Being well spoken and dressed, protective of his friends, caring toward even strangers and being wary of malicious forces, though the Darkness has always been a part of his life, despite his complete focus on the Light as of late. He possesses a dry wit and the gift of the silver tongue, though even he is not immune to the teases of his technical twin sister Weiss Strider, even becoming a little riled in the face of it, but he ultimately loves her like a sister and will go to great lengths to defend her and their friends, expressing his pride at fighting by their sides openly, as a form of encouragement. History/Biography: Born and raised in a distant world, Max was once an unruly child, frequently disobeying instruction from his parents, picking fights with other kids and generally causing disruptions and small scale chaos, preferring the so-called "free life" as it were. In his pre-teens however, after a particularly bad fight with a group of tough kids went south, it was broken up by the sharp whistle from the man who would go on to become his teacher: Keyblade Master Ridley Quinn. Master Quinn saw great strength of heart within Max, but knew it needed tempering and the young boy needing to be taught discipline, aware of his parent's woes with the rebellious youth. It took some convincing, but Max eventually agreed to the training Master Quinn offered him, inside feeling he needed a figure like Quinn and beginning to take a liking to him, for his own father was hardly there, always working away from home. It took a few years, but one day, during training, Max's potential in combat shone through, having taken in some of the lessons regarding discipline and tempering his attitude, though a couple he didn't quite take to heart, becoming too prideful and power seeking after a Keyblade had finally manifested in his grasp, which allowed a darkness to fester within his unsuspecting heart. It was then that during a training session gone wrong, Max almost succumbed to it, his primal instincts almost taking over as Master Quinn resorted to drastic measures: Taking his Keyblade to Max's Heart and separating the Darkness from it, with the risk of shattering Max's heart well known, but one that needed taking. The desperate act was successful, leaving Max unconscious, but thankfully not a Heartless. However, the extracted Darkness took the form of a dark Heart and a female form coalesced around it, creating a new being, a mirror to Max, of what he would've potentially become had it not been for his Master. After a few concerning and bedridden months, Maximilian recovered and took to his training with renewed resolve, his Keyblade returning to him swiftly and the lessons taught were fully absorbed, his Light growing in strength, while his other half, dubbed Weiss, decided to partake in the training as well, both of them proving to be powerful Keyblade Wielders. However, one day, Master Quinn went missing. No one had seen him leave, nor could they help the Strider Twins. Seeking their old Master and a new life, Max and Weiss departed from their world together. Powers and Abilities: Max's heart of pure Light means channeling the force itself comes to him easily, meaning he got to grips with spells like Faith, Salvation and Holy fairly quickly, amongst other basic Light attacks like generic beams and orbs, though he can also create blade-like Light constructs that can fulfill a few purposes: Summoned broadswords that stack in two rows of four, one to his left and the other to his right, to be fired directly at the target in rapid, blistering succession. Keyblade-like blades that spin around him before erupting into several beams of light in a circle around him for a few seconds or three that can be thrown into the ground to create semi-homing Raging Storm fire pillars. Max has also learned how to channel Thunder magic in a unique form: Focused arcs of Lightning directly from his fingers, to stun and harm opponents or knockback weaker, unprepared ones. Primarily however, Maximilian focuses on his swordsmanship with his Keyblade, able to duel one-on-one to an expert level, protect himself with guard or well-timed parries then follow up with a brutal counterattack, switch combat styles from a defensive, refined and slower stance to an aggressive, unrelenting and faster stance at a whim, sometimes enhancing his strikes with various magics to bring the pain on the last hit. Keyblades/Other Weapons: Elegant Execution - A primarily white and gold Keyblade with a unique curved hilt and only one, simple handguard, rather than the standard two, where it is needed to guard Max's fingers, but still retains the familiar profile of a Keyblade. The blade is longer than most with a couple of black highlights here and there to accentuate the previous hues, while the teeth are small, pointed but vaguely key-teeth shaped. Other: Max has considered donning a cape in the past, be it a shoulder cape or a full fledged and elegant one. His favourite food is a medium-well steak and sweet potato fries, served with a pint of stout. Theme Song: When referred to as a pair, Max and Weiss have been known by a few titles: The Unexpected Pair, the Twins of Twilight, the Sun and the Moon, Lux and Umbra, One Who Became Two, just to name a few. Name: Weiss Strider, Umbra Twin Nickname: N/A Race: Human Embodiment of Max's Darkness (Empty creature from Max riven.) Age: 21 (Physically and mentally) Gender: Female Height: 6'1 Appearance: A woman of a rare tall stature, yet she too nears physical peak just as her twin does. Weiss has shoulder length fully white hair that, to prevent the foremost strands from getting in her face, has been parted into bangs similar to a younger Xehanort's, with pale skin as contrasted to Max's tanned complexion, no scars to speak of, but her entire face bears black markings, which give away her status as not quite as human as one expects. (Think Darth Maul, but with her skin in place of the red.) The markings accentuate her yellow-orange irises and heavily bloodshot sclera. Despite her inhuman facial appearance, Weiss typically wears the outfit she was born with: A black double breasted tunic with a slightly brighter belt securing it, dark slacks and the same shin-high boots, however the tunic is undone and hangs like a battle dress over the still secured belt, revealing similar markings across her body, with her chest covered with a black tank top and her forearms and hands are wrapped in bandages while a bright white ring is upon her left hand ring finger, with similar engravings upon it. Personality: As a representation of Maximilian's darkness, Weiss possesses some less than desirable personality traits, namely and most prominently: Her sadomasochism and lust for battle, the former giving Larxene a run for her money and the latter rivaling the Heartless or a berserk Saix. Her enemies will feel the full brunt of these traits, while strangers are simply unnerved by her appearance, much to her lack of interest, but allies and friends will find that she is just a passionate soul at heart, partaking in much conversation, laughter at jokes and overall having a great zest for life, even if some of her subjects are a bit irregular for discussion, she means well. Her relationship with Max is exactly as her title implies, for she treats him as her twin brother, resulting in teasing, seemingly knowing what he's thinking and a deep bond with him as if he were a sibling and her best friend, reacting with immense anger should he or her friends be hurt or in peril, Max especially. History/Biography: Born during a perilous training incident, Weiss was initially an emotionless, faceless feminine figure, bearing the same clothing, albeit with a darker palette, as her progenitor: Maximilian Strider, who had just had his Darkness extracted from his Heart to save his life. Instead of lashing out like Master Quinn expected, she simply stood there for a few moments, unfazed until she turned around to face the unconscious Max. Several feelings almost overwhelmed her newborn Heart, of which there was shock, confusion and unfamiliarity, but topping them off was a sympathy she didn't understand, but it allowed her heart to awaken and thus, an identity was born from her shadowy origin and the situation she had just arrived in, approaching the boy with concern, kneeling and wondering aloud if he was okay, staying with him as Max was taken away to rest, electing to supervise him as he rested, to which the astonished Master allowed. After Max finally awoke from his long rest, it was soon found that Weiss represented the once rebellious spirit the young man was, hence his change in disposition once training resumed, with Weiss electing to join him despite being...problematic, for Master Quinn at times, she was at least more in control of her Darkness than her brother. For she was once part of the strong heart of a Keyblade Wielder, Weiss took after her brother fairly quickly, manifesting a unique Keyblade of her own: A double-bladed Keystaff, something rarely if ever seen in Keyblade Wielders, but the fighting style that resulted from it allowed her to be an unpredictable, aggressive opponent to reckon with. Now, she wanders with her brother Max in search of their lost Master and to seek adventure across the worlds. Powers and Abilities: Weiss's heart of pure darkness grants her natural prowess over the force itself, her dark powers being very potent indeed and all of her techniques are self-taught, as her time with Master Quinn was shorter. Usually before battle, Weiss will wreathe herself in a dark aura to increase her resilience, as to be able to take more punishment. Using the Darkness, Weiss can perform a dark telekinesis, always signified by an unstable dark energy gathering around her hand(s), to lift objects, compromise the structure of something to make it fall, attempt to push back her enemies or constrict their throats with dark energy, as well as teleport short distances and use the more generic shadow magics like orbs, Dark Firaga, dark energy geysers and create Dark Corridors for long-distance travel. More physical combat oriented techniques she knows are: Dark Splicer; a teleport rush of multiple slashes. Dark Aura; Rushes her enemies multiple times and finishes with a dark explosion followed by geysers. Abyssal Lunacy; By allowing the Darkness to take hold of her mind, Weiss becomes enveloped in a violent aura of darkness while her eyes glow a brilliant violet, attacking with greater ferocity, spreading Dark Fire with each attack and usually shouting and roaring to intimidate her foes, though she lacks the endurance of Saix, meaning she will tire out after using it, leaving her vulnerable to a time. Keyblades/Other Weapons: Twofold Torment - A unique double bladed Keystaff that Weiss wields masterfully, the blades are joined by a much longer than average hilt with wide handguards to allow for enough room for Weiss to spin the weapon in a flourish when needed. The palette of the blades is a combination of red, black and purple, spread evenly across the intricate blades, almost akin to Ultima Weapons, or the legendary X-Blade, but toned down. The teeth are jagged, pronounced and are seemingly bathed in shades of darkness at all times. Other: Weiss has heard of darkness-forged body suits, but hasn't had the desire to wear them over her current attire, feeling it'd be too expected, like her donning a mask. Her favourite food is pepperoni pizza with some cola and she enjoys woodwork. When referred to as a pair, Max and Weiss have been known by a few titles: The Unexpected Pair, the Twins of Twilight, the Sun and the Moon, Lux and Umbra, One Who Became Two, just to name a few. Theme Song: (And they are finally done...sorry it took so long. Let me know if they need adjustment, Warin.)

First and foremost, a late welcome to KH13, Warin! I'm NeroKunivas, a fellow RPer and KH Fan. I'd be happy to join you in this adventure, but I've one question: Would it be possible for us to elaborate further on our powers? It's mostly a personal preference, but I generally like to expand on my characters abilities beyond just their listed element. I don't mean to put you down or decry you, just throwing my two pence into the matter, is all. Either way, I'm very interested in what you've in store for us, so I'll be making a sheet regardless.

- Soren Monroe, The Sentinel, Human Form - Isopolis, City of Isolation: Henry's Final Sacrifice - In response to Everyth's words, Soren could only reciprocate a soft smile in return, though unconsciously, a tear fell down the side of his face, without him even noticing. Then, something truly unthinkable happened...something tragic. Something beautiful. Something noble. Something...horrific. Henry offered himself to Isopolis, the remnants of his life, his existence, in order to give back the sacrifices everyone had to make in order to enter the City of Isolation, to return what was lost to them, but at a terrible cost...the loss of a noble, truly admirable human. Soren's eyes widened at this prospect, but inside he knew it would be futile to reason with him...yet he did anyway. "Henry, no! No!! Don't do this! Not you...!" He called out in vain, knowing that Henry was going to die anyway did nothing to alleviate his desperate grief. In a surprising act, the Spirits of the Source, Isopolis Itself, accepted Henry's selfless proposal, then enacted their deed to the Worlds in a blinding display of light and power, restoring the World Below. Soren could almost feel it, though he would also notice a star twinkling and falling to his now extended hand. Just as it made contact, it erupted into a brilliant glow of light, before softly fading to reveal the Frost Sapphire Necklace he had given up, in his palm, the chain wrapped around his hand as if to affirm its realness to him. Soren clutched it softly as he watched Henry and the Source's Spirits depart from sight in a blue light...leaving them all to grieve for Henry and celebrate their costly victory. "Henry...is gone..." Soren softly stated to himself, but soon he took a deep breath and huffed, slowly unraveling the necklace's chain from his hand and putting it around his neck, clipping it in place, the Frost Sapphire slightly glowing as it settled upon his chest plate. His Demonic Armour was scorched, battle-worn, though this wasn't unusual, it bore entirely unique scars from battling a God, a battle that never was...but would forever be remembered. "But we will never forget him." Soren stated aloud this time, looking to all present. "There is a hall in Kilkis Seres, in the Royal Palace...the Hall of Heroes. A vigil for those we've lost...the great people that have been lost, be it in battle or through great sacrifice. I want his name inscribed there...no, I want more than this! If I could, I would have his name written as a Constellation, so that all who look to the skies would know the name Henry Hansees and would know that he was a hero!" Soren erupted, his words laden with an angered passion, gesturing to the skies as he made mention to them, but then lowered his arms and looked ahead to the others. "I'll do it myself if need be, but I want all Fey to know that a Human gave his life for them, for all people of the universe, to save them all." He concluded, sighing as he did. Then Yevgeni caught his attention with a reasonable question that perked his interest. "None know Isopolis better than I, even though my knowledge does not cover all of its mysteries...but the City of Isolation? I know the way out. If you will all follow me!" Soren answered sincerely and humbly, then called out to everyone, but before he set off, Helios caught his eye, his open sorrow giving him pause, before he approached and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Don't forget him." He stated comfortingly, but then he looked away for a moment, almost squeezing his eyes again, before making eye contact with Helios again. "I'm proud of you, Helios..." Soren uttered unconsciously, but wholeheartedly to the shapeshifter that he had spared and witnessed the growth of into a man worth the pride he felt in that moment, even seeming surprised himself by what he had said to Helios, but nodded slightly to show he meant it. "Now get up...I'm tired of this place." He finished with genuine exhaustion in his last words, looking to the south where the exit lay, walking forward to lead everyone out, gesturing for them to follow his lead. - Nergal, the Queenslayer, the Loyal - Isopolis, City of Isolation - The final end of Henry Hansees brought many feelings to the Queenslayer, who looked on, forlorn and bereft with grief already, he too felt sorrow for the Dreadnought: A Human who had given up everything, suffered greatly and was given nothing in return but a chance to die to save what others had lost. Nergal only felt a small drop of blood return to his veins...a mark of shame as far as he was concerned, regarding his narcissism that had all but faded away into grief, shame and misery. The words of Yevgeni before his pride returned to him hurt Nergal further, with the Elf pleading that Nergal spit at Yevgeni's feet, never look him in the eyes again and turn his back on him, taking some of the responsibility that had crushed the Queenslayer mere moments ago. Such humility would never escape the lips of Yevgeni Malachite ever again, as even Nergal could see his pride returning, from the look in his eyes before he turned to address Soren, as to inquire how they were to leave the City of Isolation. "But...but, you are the only friend I've...I've ever known...!" Nergal's words were barely above a hoarse whisper, yet they still carried across Isopolis with their astonishment and despair, worse yet, fear of being alone again, something he hadn't felt for five millennia, originally being content with being alone after he originally found no meaning in life...but now? One of his greatest surges of emotion in such a long time...and it was fear of loneliness. Nergal wondered only for a second if that was all there was to being able to feel, to have a heart...was it just pain? Yet even amidst this self-destructive thinking, Nergal realized something, mainly from the open sorrow of Helios and the words of others: Pain was part of being alive...whether you were Human or Fey. Helios, despite his screaming to the heavens and unrepentant sobbing, would still go on after all was said and done. Soren would persevere because it was his job, his role in life and because he was strong-hearted just like the shapeshifter. Everyth, despite learning that she had died in the darkest future, accepted what was being spoken to her and offered a smile to the Sentinel who reluctantly told her of a fate she had avoided. "For...you all to keep going, even after all of these terrible things you've endured...it must take incredible strength..." Nergal spoke aloud, finally rising to two feet once more, addressing everyone directly, wiping his face of tears once again and clearing his throat. "I've only recently learned what it means to feel...to live. And I almost squandered it all. By taking the life of your beloved Queen and in the dark future you escaped from, becoming a hateful monster that brought nothing but ruin...I've been nothing but a blight to you all. Furthermore, a source of pain that you shouldn't have had to endure..." Nergal went on, looking to each individual that was there with sincerity and regret in his eyes, knowing that to some present, this was just drivel. Pointless. In vain. Nergal's crimes were great and in spite of his genuine sorrow and regret at a life wasted and a Queen murdered, some simply would never forgive him or even offer him a second chance and he knew this full well. But at this point, his heart was doing the talking from hereon. "And for all of that, I am truly sorry...I've taken this life for granted...but no more. I, don't know what I can do, nor what I will do...but, I want to make right by you all...even you, Yevgeni. Even if you are so incapable of bonding or caring for others as you say you are, I will not turn my back on you. You are my friend and that's an end of it...friends don't just abandon one another." He spoke his words with honest remorse, hand on heart when he spoke his apology and keeping eye contact with Yevgeni as he told him exactly how he felt. Then Soren told everyone to accompany him to the exit of the City of Isolation and Nergal followed along without a second thought. "Yes, even you, Nergal...we can discuss what will happen to you later." "This may be pointless to ask, Sentinel, but...do you forgive me?" "I accept that you were being honest with us just then. I'm sure we can be...lenient, as it were...but I don't forgive you. You still murdered our Queen and conspired with a traitor to take over the world...you'll have to do a hell of a lot to earn even a shred of forgiveness from me." "I understand, Soren..." "Good. That's all I ask of you, Slayer."

- Lucia Quinn, The Raging Tempest - Aquafolk Party - The festivities of the Aquafolk were understandable and potentially enjoyable, but Lucia didn't feel she could partake in them, not so long as the uncertainty regarding Pang's state of mind loomed over her. Considering how long it took Pang to put an end to Aprameia through crushing her Phylactery, the Lich certainly meant something to him, but Lucia found herself wondering if his heartbreak would cause further issues down the line for himself, be it depression or at worst, driven to the breaking point and losing himself to a despair-laden madness and the darkness that would follow. "Wow...way to be dramatic about it, Lucy." Lucia told herself, shaking her head after thinking such things. In reality, Pang just needed consoling. So, putting her helmet away and taking a few moments to let her mind go blank, Lucia disappeared from the Aquafolk Village. - The Safe Haven - Once she arrived, Lucia got to wandering around the Haven, seeking Pang initially fruitlessly, first trying the shops and job boards, then Pang's quarters by knocking on the door, then leaving when she got no response, rather than just bursting in unannounced, then walking the streets to see if he was among the crowds. She the requested the attention of a pedestrian. "Excuse me, you haven't seen a friend of mine? He passed by here, not too long ago, he's, a bipedal white tiger? With black spots?" She quizzed, internally realizing how ridiculous she sounded, but kept a straight face about it. "Umm...oh! I did, he was going to the arena! To watch the Jun Twins, you can't miss him." The pedestrian replied with a smile, followed by Lucia giving one of her own and patting them on the shoulder. "Thank you so much. Take care!" Lucia uttered, then headed off to the arena. - Reksis Sahn, the Voidstalker - The Safe Haven: Cafeteria - Holding to his promise to Hektor, Reksis soon willed himself to the Safe Haven and headed to the cafeteria, following the instructions of a particularly cheeky machine, walking through the doors and swiftly finding the gentleman himself, along with Hogarth and Rhiannon, seated around a table with a spare chair. Ghost in tow, Reksis approached and took his seat in short order next to Hektor. "Hmm, no Tea? Now I'm thinking it was but a myth you conjured up to rope me along, Hektor. For shame." Reksis spoke initially rather seriously, but the last words were in jest, followed by a deep, throaty chuckle from the Eliksni, who rested his hands upon the table, while his Ghost floated close to the group, looking between them all intermittently. "How is everyone then?" The Ghost chipped in brightly, looking mostly in Hogarth's direction now. "You got anything more exciting than herb gathering lined up?" He added, to Reksis's amusement. "Now now, little light, it was an important task for the Haven." Reksis affirmed, tilting his head to look at the floating "eye" a little better as he spoke, who then whirled around to face his chosen. "Oh, I know, I know. I was only wondering~" Ghost responded with a slightly cheeky tone. (Reksis and the Ghost will have coloured texts from now on, to make it a little easier to read. :P)

Better late than never, but I have decided on Lucia's new active power and Reksis's new and upgraded powers: Lucia: Tempest Strike: With a wave of her staff, Lucia can send a narrow wave of raw Arc energy across the ground in a straight line, every so often, the wave lets out a small explosion as it traverses, causing extra damage to those unfortunate to be caught in its wake. Lucia can send several of these off at a time, but each Strike requires its own wave of her staff and can only travel in the direction she sends them in to start with. Reksis: Crippling Blow: Infusing Void energy into his fist or sword, Reksis hits his opponent of choice with an attack that inflicts a debilitating affliction upon them, visually signified by an ominous, entrapping purple aura upon their person after impact. Crippling Blow weakens an opponents Armour and thus, their Defense, making them more vulnerable to further assault, but only for a few seconds before it wears off. And it'll take longer before Reksis is able to use the move again in a fight, meaning he has to pick his moments carefully. Vortex Grenade - Chaos Accelerant: A greater understanding of the Void, no matter how minor it is, goes a long way. Now that he has gotten his first taste for how the Void works, Reksis can up the ante: Now he is able to charge up his Vortex Grenade and in taking more time to prepare it, he makes it more of a threat by increasing its damage and area of affect radius. This does require him to take a few extra seconds to do so and the grenade itself starts glowing as to indicate a stronger attack is imminent, but if one finds themselves trapped in this cascade, death could be seen as a mercy that won't come as soon as you'd like it. Here's hoping I didn't go overboard. lol

- Soren Monroe, The Skeptical Sentinel - Isopolis, City of Isolation - Any attack plan Soren had was immediately thrown to the wayside by the unexpected interruption by Everyth, utterly shocking him to his core with a sharp gasp as she stopped his blade in its tracks. "E-Everyth...?!" He called out, standing down immediately and taking a few moments to attempt to recompose, unable to believe his eyes considering...past events. "I, had no idea you were still--" Soren began, cutting himself off, briefly half-covering his mouth, then holding his chest softly, slightly bowing as he tried to find the right words. "Forgive me...but, you don't remember because...you weren't present." He went on, choking on his words almost, but he kept speaking nevertheless. "...in the previous timeline, you sacrificed yourself to bring life to a dying Henry..." Then Soren sighed deeply, looking her in the eyes. "You died, Everyth." He concluded, but almost immediately afterwards Soren felt regret and sorrow in his heart, squeezing his eyes shut as he looked away in shame. "I'm sorry..." Shaking his head as he did, Soren forced himself to put those feelings aside, at least for now, looking to Nergal and then Odin, suddenly seeming angry. "I could not stand by and allow that future to happen again. That's why I helped Helios with subduing Odin...yet, now he concedes...and I cannot believe it, not for a second...but, for your sake, amongst others, I will stand down." Soren sternly spoke, visibly calming down as he went on, sheathing his Blade of Cinder, huffing as he was still mentally worn out. "I just hope neither he nor Nergal make us regret this mercy." - Nergal, the Queenslayer, the Loyal - Isopolis, City of Isolation - The Visages of the Source were fascinating to Nergal, being surprisingly present representations of an ancient power and all. Eclaire's warning caught his eye, where he simply looked at her for a few seconds, before exhaling through his nose and softly nodding in acknowledgement, unable to really express what he really was thinking in the moment that a vengeful Eclaire threatened his life with a weapon created in remembrance of the woman he ended the life of... What really perplexed Nergal was his immediate notice of Yevgeni's tears, immediately looking in his direction as he then began addressing Nergal amidst his sorrow, expressing his want for Nergal to be spared from the dreadful future they had just returned from. From what was spoken, from talks of a merciless monster being born from Odin and himself merging together, nearly destroying everything and necessitating a return to the past to prevent it and restore the World Below, topped off with Yevgeni thanking Nergal for his loyalty and adherence to the request to stand down, the Queenslayer felt several surges of emotion in the space of a few seconds... Sympathy as he saw Yevgeni's tears fall. Dread as he imagined what would happen if the monster had been created a second time. Irritation as he couldn't quite work out the next feeling...but this would give way fairly quickly as it hit him: Regret. Regret...regret. With a shaken gasp, Nergal fell to his knees, as a crushing realization fell upon him. "This...t-this future, you speak of...it, was all because of...of me...!" Yevgeni would not be alone in the shedding of tears, as Nergal too wept for the first time in his life, brushing away the tears in confusion at first, but he soon shook his head, struggling to suppress these feelings. "It all started when I killed Queen Shiva...and in the end, her death got us nowhere...and...and you mourn...and I..." Nergal could not speak any further, choking on his words completely for a few long moments, feeling as if he had let his friend down and wasted the life of a Queen just to learn that he would've became a monster and killed his one and only companion for five millennia without a second thought, were it not for their time travel. Bringing himself to one knee, he pleadingly looked to the Elf, his eyes red from the grief. "You averted this cruel future...that's enough for me. Thank you, my friend...and...and I'm...I'm sorry, Yevgeni." Nergal concluded, his apology both for his outburst and for actions he technically hasn't committed, nor will he ever, wiping the tears away, but he did not rise from his kneel, instead he looked to Soren, then Eclaire and Jynn, taking a deep, still shaken breath. "You know me as the Queenslayer...I do not expect forgiveness from any of you, nor will I ever. Shiva's death weighs heavy on my heart, as does the...the very idea that, because of such a transformation, I would kill my one and only friend in this world...just don't say anything to me, I already know what's on your minds...spare me the speeches. Just for this day..." Nergal spoke with a heavy, solemn tone, basically begging that no one else speak up against him, remaining in a kneel to Yevgeni as he clutched his chest for the last few words.

- Nergal, the Queenslayer - Isopolis, City of Isolation - As he was not present when the decision to travel back in time was made, Nergal was as he was before his merging with the traitor, Odin One-Eye: Standing with Yevgeni, ready to act on the elf's word at a moments notice. Something did feel different in the air and the auras of all who stood before and beside him...a unified stillness, before a gentle hand fell upon Nergal's shoulder, eliciting a soft gasp before he looked to the one in question, Yevgeni and listened intently. His praise was met with a modest gaze from Nergal, but then Yevgeni said something bewildering: Their quest would not end in the favour of the pair and that whatever happened next, Nergal should trust Yevgeni. "My friend...I trust you implicitly. Say the word and I will do as you ask. I, admit I am a little taken aback, but I trust your judgement. Make it so." Nergal affirmed, never breaking eye contact with Yevgeni as he spoke, his expression stern and sincere with the words and tone to match, then watching as Yevgeni beckoned the Source to hear their plight, with many voices speaking at his request. In a truly unexpected move however, Prince Jynn Venas suddenly lunged for Odin-One Eye and faceplanted him into the ground, enraging the supposed Lord of Mystras who was soon bound by Helios in Snake form. All the while, Yevgeni's call allowed others to pipe up and express their desire for the World Below to be restored and all lives lost brought back in doing so. Nergal would've been lying if he said he wasn't shocked, but he was not angry...his friendship with Yevgeni wouldn't allow it. But more than anything, he was more confused. "Raiden...is Odin, as Mariel called him? Jynn, speaks of trouble the man has yet to cause, but wholeheartedly believes he will be the one to make such ill events come to pass...? What did he plan on doing with that Source, I wonder? I am confused, I am ashamed to admit, Yevgeni...but, I still stand with you...as for Odin...perhaps they require assistance?" - Soren Monroe, The Sentinel, Human Form - Isopolis, City of Isolation - Back in Time - "They have plenty..." Soren uttered in a half-conscious reply to Nergal, swinging with the base of his ignited Blade of Cinder at the back of Odin's legs to knock him down, but not cut his legs off, followed with an elbow, reinforced temporarily with his demonic form's rock skin, to the back of the head, as to help disable him further and would attempt to restrain his head in a headlock, while his eyes glowed in preparation to transform fully should the need arise. "Heed me, Source, for I too wish for the restoration of the Human World and all that were lost to live again!" He bellowed, silently hoping that Yevgeni wouldn't use this as a chance to backstab them, though the unpredictability of Nergal was something to worry about overall, even has he proclaimed his trust in the elf and stood down. Aside from this, he could only wonder what all of this would mean for the recently deceased Ahriman...would his wish still apply? Would he return in due time despite what they were doing here? Only time would tell, but for now, Soren knew their primary concern was not allowing Odin to claim the Source for himself.

- Lucia Quinn, the Raging Tempest - Aprameia's Fall - After what felt like a short battle at best, the Aquafolk Lich could not take another blow and she perished once again, the weather calming and any of her servants that survived fled or died on the spot. Slinging her bladed staff over her shoulder, Lucia shook her head slightly. It was an insufficient test of her skills she felt, though she knew it did her no favours that she hardly participated in the skirmish in question. Either way, she then dismissed her weapon, it returning to her aura that too dispersed, rolling her shoulders as she turned to face the Commander General who began to address them. The sudden despair-filled anger from Pang caught Lucia off guard, turning her head sharply in his direction, a brief spark of arc energy coursed over her due to said astonishment. After the General said his piece regarding the people wanting justice, Pang relented and soon departed, though before he willed himself back to the Safe Haven, Lucia was only able to utter a concerned "Pang?" before he vanished, furrowing her brow under her helmet. Lucia then lowered her hood and took her helmet off, holding it under her arm as she began pacing after everyone else, making it clear she was worried about Pang, brushing her hair off her face with her free hand. - Reksis Sahn, the Voidstalker - Herbs Gathered - The deed was done. And with this, Hogarth had simply vanished, akin to a Warlock's blink, yet he did not appear a small distance away, rather he had completely apperated from the face of the earth. Neither Reksis nor his Ghost knew what to make of this, but the Fallen did take notice of Hektor's offering, looking to his Ghost. "Have you any idea what...Tea, is, Ghost?" Reksis quizzed, followed with the Ghost looking thoughtful for a moment, albeit as thoughtful as a floating drone with a singular eye could look, his moving parts however "furrowed" if that helped observers. "Tea is a herbal drink, often drunk by humans as a form of relaxation. Usually they contain a stimulant called Caffeine, which makes you more alert, so it never made sense to me...it goes well with Sugar and Milk, too, if that helps." Ghost explained, eliciting a brief chuckle from Reksis. "It doesn't, but I will partake in this invitation of yours, Hektor. It would be an honour, in fact." He concluded with a small bow of respect. Inside, Reksis felt that after using the Vortex Grenade, he understood the Void Light that sustained him eternally in place of ether, at least a little bit more. He wondered to himself what more could be done with this power...

- Soren Monroe, the Sentinel, Demonic Form - Isopolis, City of Isolation: Reality Collapsing - At long last, the battle was over. The maddened Fused Deity was completely obliterated by the combined might of Fey and Humanity, unleashing their enhanced power upon one that once believed himself a God, killing him and thus, ending the lives of Odin One-Eye and Nergal, the Queenslayer, for there was no way to undo the prison of fusion they had found themselves trapped within. As a result of the demise of the Aspect of Destruction's body, reality came back together, everyone was on solid ground once more, but all was not well. Soren slowly picked himself up from the ground, his Demonic Energies wreathing his body, threatening to overwhelm his untrained body and mind, but fortunately, Soren turned his amulet back to its original position, affixing the seal on his untempered power again and allowed himself to breathe, before reverting to his human form. - Human Form - Brushing his hair from his face, Soren stood, his breaths heavy from exhaustion, though he could not relax. As the others had noted, Reality was still falling apart...the Source of All Life was gone, with Ahriman's body and the world was crumbling at the foundations, spelling certain doom. All was not lost it then seemed, as Elia and Henry hatched a plan: Travel back in time, to save the worlds from this grim fate. Soren frowned however, looking to Elia as she suggested this. "Time Travel is dangerous, Elia...one wrong move and we could damage history, or Time itself, even simply assure a more painful death for us all..." He warned at first, knowing the risks, but he took a deep breath through his nose, wiping blood from his lips as he did. "But we've no other choice. So I will aid you gladly." Soren added with a brief, sharp smile, then walked up to the former Djinni Rufus and took his hand, joining the circle to lend his energy to the traversal through the space-time continuum. As he let his energy flow, Soren furrowed his brow, his eyes falling upon Yevgeni...an elven man he regarded as spineless, insane and selfish before this business with a new God being born, who stood against the tide when it mattered, seemingly forsaking his pride and fighting against someone who had stolen his loyal dog from his clutches. "Yevgeni...I don't forgive you for what you've done and I don't think I will for a very long time...if ever." Soren began, licking his dry, cracked lips to remoisten them, his small wound upon them stinging as he did, following up with a heavy sigh. "But for what has happened today, your choice to stand against that...so-named God, with us, when it mattered...? I respect that." He admitted with a huff, but he meant every word, then he squinted his eyes. "Just stay out of our business after today, for your own sake." Soren added this addendum without anger nor as a warning, more just that he was tired of today and wanted it to be over with. His extra gruff demeanour should be a clue to the perceptive Elf that Soren was just exhausted like the rest of them.

- Ahriman Umbra, Corrupted Aspect of Devastation - Isopolis, City of Isolation, A God's Mistake - The Fey that stood against Ahriman did not relent, despite their plights, their injuries and potential deaths...they just. Wouldn't. Give. Up. And in a single moment, Ahriman truly faltered for what felt like an eternity. He lost his concentration, his vision was a haze of weakness for that one second and he was punished for it...hard. Every projectile fired hit its mark, knocking him back ever so slightly with each impact, the human Princess assaulted the Fused Deity, her blade embedded into his spine before he could react, though he was able to grab a hold of her legs and toss her violently to the ground, then he would charge at her, grabbing her by the head, lifting her and once more slamming her into the ground as he flew, potentially grinding it across the dirt before lobbing her at his opponents. Whether this succeeded or not didn't matter, because he soon found himself being suplexed by Henry with such force that it cracked the ground beneath him. Despite being a dead man walking, Henry's attack did its damage, as did the follow up kick into Alastor's own barrage. Each and every blow from Alastor send ripples into his soul, even to the remnants of those who once made him, ultimately leading into Alastor's finisher move: A downward slam that formed a crater on impact and sent Ahriman flying across the room in an embarassing, painful tumble, from which he did not get up from for a few moments. In rage, after shaking his head, Ahriman roared, energy flying out from his body like a shield to stop Mariel's Light Bolts, though this did little to embolden him, for when the God rose to his feet, he stumbled and for a while, he was seeing in double and breathing heavily. It would soon become clear to the others that Ahriman Umbra was...awry. His body began subtly shifting at first, but this was soon followed with unstable bursts of various energies from his body and his aura was visually distorted. Ahriman looked to his right hand, turning it over as he saw himself becoming...transparent, for a few moments, parts of his skin disappearing to bare his skeleton and small cracks began to form along his muscles, the points of greatest tension...the battle had finally taken its toll...Ahriman was dying. Yet even as he spat golden blood, Ahriman clenched said fist and glared at his foes. "Y-You...think this is over...?" He began, his derangement seemingly abiding for this period so he could speak to them from the heart. "...I promised...deliverance. To destroy this world and have it begin anew, elevating you all to the status of Angels if you stood with me...! Instead...y...you would've assured but one thing...that all things...would perish for your transgression! NEVER TO RETURN!" Ahriman bellowed, having seemingly become sick of the sight of Fey and Humans, wishing them all to simply begone as his power began to consolidate. "...but...so long, as this world exists...so long as you continue to fight, to live...to breathe....you remind me of the strength, the valour that I sought to preserve...my hate of you is misplaced." He suddenly said in a calmer tone, showing that he was simply venting a few moments ago, even his expression become softer for a few moments of calm reflection, though he would soon huff once more and go on. "Instead, I say to you now...now...cough, that this world...needs Ahriman...and I will not die...on this day! ...NOT TODAY!" With renewed vigour, Ahriman screamed as he powered up, unleashing every ounce of strength within, even that which no living being could access without dying: His own Life Force. Combined with his truly divine power, Ahriman focused enough of this power into his fist, violent crackles of energy were erupting from it just before he slammed it to the ground, cracking it, but not as Henry or Alastor had done a few minutes ago. Instead, the warriors would be horrified to realise that the cracks were in fact in the world itself, spreading quickly across the ground, all the way to the city in the distance...and then across the distorted skies above them, finally coming to a point directly above them...before shattering completely. - Reality's Subsidence - Ahriman had sundered reality itself, opening himself and the warriors to the Fabric of Reality itself, with no ground to stand upon, and no Suppression Field to inhibit them, they would all find themselves in freefall down an endless, fantastical abyss full of a myriad of energies, colours and flashes of events that had once occurred...they would see images in motion, of the Second Great War, of Shiva's demise, the creation of Ahriman and even the memories of all present, including those that hurt to remember, along the folds of this abyss. Ahriman now, was directly ahead of them and keeping himself in a stable fall with his burning wings, preparing himself for one last hurrah against his enemies. "You have been worthy adversaries! Now come, heroes! Come! And DIE for your Worlds!!" Ahriman declared, preparing to unleash a great barrage of attacks, all at the cost of his life, to slow or stop them entirely: Fireballs, Projections of his Wings, Swords, Laser beams, Energy Mines, Electrical blasts, imitations of Indignation would be scattered here and there, Divine Projections of Triangles that acted as traps, which would cause massive damage to those who fell prey to them, Time Snares that would slow them and Portals to the Dark Void, which would consume those who fell into them, losing them forever to the Dark Realm, being the most dangerous things that approached them as a veritable maelstrom of chaos...standing between them...and Ahriman. - Soren Monroe, the Sentinel, Demonic Form - Reality's Subsidence - Like everyone else present, Soren found himself in freefall into the endless abyss that none of them should've ever witnessed in their eternal lifetimes, which would either send them mad or into the clutches of despair and misery. But in a few precious moments before Ahriman launched his attacks, Soren remembered something, as time seemed to slow down...his promise to the Shades of Isopolis, to the shrine itself and in essence, to those he had lost...to be a resolute, unflinching Sentinel. To protect and rally his allies in this time of desperation...and to die for them if need be. Soren's perception of time resumed as he righted himself in midair and called out to all present. "Everyone! Do not fear! This is our chance! Ahriman is on his last legs and our power is at its highest once more! Stand with me and we can finish this, comrades!! Whether we die today or not, we will kill him!" Soren belllowed, hellfire surrounding his body to protect himself as he looked directly to Yevgeni. "Yevgeni! You wish to break this curse!? Make this count!" He addressed the elf without an inkling of hate, for now was not the time, instead he spurred him on, before focusing on the deranged God, wrenching the Amulet in his belly counter-clockwise, unleashing pure Demonic Power from his body as his limits were broken, he swiped his now empowered Blade of Cinder several times, sending crimson Sword Beams that would punch through the wave of projectiles to deal great damage to Ahriman. (All right all right all right, it's time to end this, people. Ahriman has sent everyone into freefall into the folds between reality itself and now is the time to crush him for good. Your powers are no longer suppressed and he is vulnerable, but literally killing himself to finish you all off. Don't hold back and heed Soren's words: Kill him.)

- Ahriman Umbra, Corrupted Aspect of Devastation, Paragon of an Unbalanced Mind - Isopolis, City of Isolation - Even through the eyes of madness, the newly christened Ahriman Umbra could see that this would become too much for him in no time at all. Helios had transformed into a great snake, entrapping the Fused Deity in a coil as to enable further damage from the greater, dazzling attacks headed his way. But it would not end like this... "Not...like...this!!" Ahriman screeched as he immediately gripped Helios by his neck, screaming as he pulled with all his might at the reptilian, either relinquishing his bite or he would lose his fangs and be found face to face with a frenzied Ahriman, who bared his teeth at the Spriggan and spat the following: "You've been a thorn in my side too long, shapeshifter!" Ahriman declared with venom as he would go on to wring Helios's neck, which would force him to let go with high probability of snapping his vertebrae. Even if that didn't kill him, Ahriman felt sure tossing him into Yevgeni's Holy would do the job and so he did, letting the reptilian loose without so much as a second glance, instead looking to Soren, who had survived the barrage from earlier, only suffering minor wounds and knockback onto the ground, picking himself up as Ahriman eyed all others before addressing them swiftly. "As have you all...! But no longer!!" With this, the desecrated God let loose a tirade of energy bolts from his body, which would seek everyone present as to hurt them and stun them, even Yevgeni, for Nergal no longer held any sway over Ahriman Umbra, not even a slight proclivity, neither did Odin. Then he would take off into flight above the warriors, the singularity behind him began to glow as he gathered power to his hands lowered to his sides, speaking an incantation. "May this blanket halt your tricks, then I'll kill you just for kicks! Hahahahaha!" It was actually totally needless for him to say this, if only to taunt his foes, but what came next was far from deranged rambling or a trick: Ahriman extended his right arm toward the singularity and his left to the group, channeling power to the rift and preparing to focus it upon them all. "Aspect's Decree: Greater Suppression Field! Your special attacks are now forfeit!!" Releasing the energy through the singularity and his hand, Ahriman cast this spell, polluting the air with Magic Suppressant that would be sustained by said rift for as long as the battle lasted, preventing even the most empowered Fey from casting greater spells like Holy or calling the wrath of the Gods. The field immediately got to work, erasing Yevgeni's persistent Holy Spell regardless of what happened to Helios, banishing the elemental Gods and bringing an end to Eclaire's melodramatic flair. They would still be able to attack Ahriman and deal significant damage, but anything above a combination or mid-tier spell would be quashed by the persistent Suppression Field. But the stakes were about to get higher once again, for Ahriman would take this opportunity to dash at high speeds toward the group and in one smooth motion, he would snatch the Lamp of Rufus Contralto and retreat a safe distance, clutching it close, yet gloatingly as he laughed to himself, looking to the Djinni with a maddened grin. "Great and mighty Djinni, heed my wish! I only have the one for myself..." In a strange moment of sincerity, Ahriman's crazed smile faded into a contemplative glare. "I wish that no matter what happens on this day...that my divine spirit will endure, even should I perish or be lost to time for a moment. This world needs the Aspect...this world needs Ahriman...one way, or another. Make it so!" He declared, then he came over all devilish and delighted again. "My second wish...!" He shouted, seeming poised for a revelation of a minor deception...but simply lowered his arms and sighed deeply. "Ahh, I've lost interest in this. Rufus, I wish for your freedom from this lamp and your existence as a Djinni! Make! It! SO!" This was no mere loss of interest, but an affirmation that there would be no further wishmaking, for Ahriman's two wishes were what would be necessary to ensure the Djinni's freedom, so he let go of the lamp, to either let it do its thing required to free him or just to clatter to the ground, followed by more laughter from Ahriman, as he snapped his fingers, causing several parts of the City of Isolation in the distance to explode into a torrent of darkness and fire, only for intimidation, as Ahriman's actual next attack was a little more devious. "Now...time for another death, I think~" Ahriman uttered, pointing a finger at Eclaire, concentrating pure energy into the tip of the finger and letting it loose; Firing off a precise, homing beam that would pierce through Eclaire's heart should it make its mark and should she do nothing about it. As she was avoiding this, or dying, Ahriman tilted his head at the others present. "Aww, let's make it a few more, shall we?! I'll send you ALL to Shiva!!" With this scream, he released a barrage of these beams, but they were not homing, but just as deadly and to top it off: Explosive upon impact with the ground, at Mariel, Yevgeni, the unconscious Alderon, Rhea, Xion and Arthynn, as to put an end to their tripe. - Soren Monroe, the Despairing Sentinel, Demonic Form - Throughout all of this, Soren could only watch as Helios was tossed aside, seemingly left for dead as the Holy Spell closed in on him, too fast for Soren to do anything about it, who could only unconsciously extend a hand as the shapeshifter was left to his fate...one Soren simply couldn't bear to look at any further, actually turning away at the last second, his breaths a mixture of sobs and enraged heaving, as he looked up to Ahriman when addressed, only to suffer the Magic Suppressant in the air, meaning he couldn't do anything grand or even his Self-Explosion attack. "...Ahriman...I...I...I WILL KILL YOU!" Soren bellowed, flames rising all around his body and the Blade of Cinder as he slammed the blade to the ground beside him, dragging it behind him as he charged toward the Fused Deity, who had just lowered himself to a a ground level hover when his barrage was released. (Phew. Long one, I know. lol But to be specific: No one can use attacks like Holy, Long and Dark December's beam attack, the Lost Legions, Avalon Salvation or anything else exceedingly powerful. And those mentioned among others have been nullified by the casting of the Field, which will actively halt any further super attacks. You can still physically attack, use magic, some powerful attacks and spells, but anything on a grand scale can no longer be performed. But your power is still as great as before, so you will still pack a punch and be durable to boot. Give him hell, guys.)

- Ahriman, Aspect of Destruction, The Overworld's New God - Isopolis, City of Isolation - Though Ahriman was still angered at losing Zweishock to the lesser Alastor, the viciousness of Helios and Mariel couldn't be ignored for its sake, with her light blast impacting his shoulder while the God repelled Helios, using his own momentum against him and tossing the beast over his other shoulder as he attempted to grab him. He then caught Helios's bite with his new blade in front of him in a horizontal stance, guiding the abomination in front of him as to take Mariel's follow-up scream that never came, which threw off Ahriman, who was bitten by Helios's last bite upon the arm. "Foolish multiform...your lack of fear doesn't concern me...it only reinforces your ignorance!" By the second, Ahriman seemingly was becoming more and more callous toward his foes, though it would be seen by Helios for a split second, as his irises briefly flashed a brilliant, yet dark purple, with the whites of his eyes becoming black in the same moment. Whether this surprised the shapeshifter or not didn't matter, for Ahriman would release his blade, mentally sending it toward the Blind King, who he felt had served his purpose, to impale him upon the ground. With his now free hand, he grabbed Helios by the scruff of his neck, peeling him from his wounded arm and punching him in the center eye twice before tripping him over, as to force him to the ground, attempting to prop his mouth open in a moment of unforeseen, vicious rage, while extending his many wings outward as a shield from further assaults by Mariel, as to not be interrupted. "Perhaps pain will convince you otherwise...!" Ahriman uttered scornfully, placing a hand over Helios's mouth in eerie familiarity as he unleashed a torrent of fire, aiming to bellow it down his throat to burn him from the inside out. These flames were not a brilliant orange, but rather were stained with an unusual dark blueish hue, as something strange was happening to the once radiant God...and he could feel it too, as something felt like it was trying to escape from his chest. Was it an inner power...? Or was it-- "AAAAUGH!!" Ahriman let out a bloodcurdling scream of real agony, as he, through the haze of pain and surprise, looked down to see a flaming blade protruding from his chest, looking back limply at Soren Monroe, fury in his eyes as the hellfire begun to burn hotter. - Soren Monroe, The Vengeful Sentinel, Demonic Form - Isopolis, City of Isolation - Moments prior, as Ahriman had seemingly missed, Eclaire Oathkeeper had made her wishes to Rufus to grant herself and all others present greater strength than ever before, causing him to stop for a moment and feel the power welling within him, his aura exploding in a torrent of translucent flames, demonic energy engulfing him. It was then that he spied the Fused Deity attempting to make Helios suffer another torrent of flame, in the vein of Soren, though most certainly unintentionally. He didn't even hesitate, for his blade was already raised as he flanked the strangely sadistic Ahriman and embedded the greatsword in Ahriman's back and out his chest. "Leave my friend alone...!" Soren simply demanded, taking the blade out of Ahriman in a swift, unkind motion. The stunned God simply allowed Soren to throw him aside, as he couldn't quite accept what had just happened, all the while Soren had made his way to Helios, attempting to help him up. "Helios?! Are you all right?" He questioned out of concern for the shapeshifter, sheathing his sword and seeing if he could still breathe, let alone continue fighting. "I didn't spare you and knock your senses back into place just for you to die now, stand up! Helios?" Soren went on, knowing that whatever flames Ahriman used, even if they didn't burn out his throat, would still leave a mark upon even the robust Cyph-like structure he possessed. "What...?!" A shaken voice echoed. - Ahriman, Severely Wounded - The deity stumbled, his breaths ragged and short, clutching his chest, the newfound strength that Soren possessed was seemingly shared with all of the warriors that stood against him, even the once pacifistic Aqua, all because of the Succubus and a little djinni. Blood did not flow, instead his wound closed, but it left a massive scar on his chest that exuded through and onto his clothing: A light-filled set of cracks extending from the center...permanent damage had been dealt to Ahriman, who simply looked to the ground...astounded. Bewildered. Shocked. "You...you've, wounded me...you've wounded me!" Ahriman stated, broken sounding at first, but the second utterance was laced with indignation, looking to the perpetrator and his ilk with scorn, baring his teeth for a moment as he hissed his words. "So this is how far you will all go? To oppose me...?!" He added with further venom, then he shook his head, looking off to the distance again, as he sought the answer in desperation of how to rectify this weakness... "I..." He rasped, his breaths heaving. "I need...I need more power...!" Ahriman uttered in pleading, for a moment he felt utterly lost...until in response, something in his heart seemingly stirred, his fears on hold, then assuaged by the feeling altogether as he let out a shaken, malicious chuckle. "Of course...! I already have it...strength lay within me...waiting to be released." Ahriman then made eye contact once more with Soren, his stance raising from a hunch of pain to a more dignified, straight stand. "From those that made me." "What are you talking about?!" Soren, who had been listening intently to Ahriman's sobs suddenly achieve a chilling, confident coherence, readying himself aggressively to fight, but all that did was trigger a response from Ahriman, who's wings glowed brilliantly as he took to the skies, flapping them hard to dissuade immediate pursuit, hovering in front of and above his foes, extending his arms down and outward, slowing his breaths down to concentrate, before bellowing: "Nergal! Odin One-Eye! Reach into the dark depths and lend me your collective, hidden founts of strength! Empower me with the darkness, allow it to corrupt me, to taint my body and spirit if need be, so I can vanquish the interlopers!" Ahriman declared, looking to his chest where they resided in a fashion at first, then to the skies as he spoke one last time... "A weak God incapable of cleansing the horrors of these worlds is worthless!!" With a maddened smile, his calling was answered as energy began welling up inside of him, his chest pulsed twice, the crack glowing, before the dark energies, the shadows broke through Ahriman and into the world around him in a furious, ravenous display of power that should never have been witnessed by Fey, never mind the Humans present, as eldritch power flooded the landscape, twisting the already manipulated City of Isolation into a darker, hellish landscape fit only for the abyss, out of sight and mind. The sealed darkness within Nergal was released, the hidden monster of Odin, already it had begun destruction, but now, it was further unleashed and Ahriman was emboldened...but for a price. - Ahriman Umbra, Corrupted Aspect of Devastation, Power Maddened God - As the shadows parted to reveal his new form, all that could be heard was maniacal, deranged laughter from the Fused Deity, his voice deeper and backed by an ethereal tone that spoke to the souls of the warriors present with each laugh elicited. If they weren't sent mad by the mere sight of what he had become, they would be able to make out the new countenance he bore: His skin had become a deep violet, cracked with inflamed veins and overlapped in certain areas with pure darkness flowing in and over parts of his skin, as if they were blemishes in motion, his face was stretched by his current grin, though even if he stopped smiling, his eyes were seemingly out of proportion, but that was only because they could be opened wider than before if he chose to, the rest was a brief optical illusion. His hair was longer, flowing upward by its own will and darker than a raven. Ahriman was now bare chested, his upper clothing had disintegrated and merged with his lower articles, making a horrific, unusual dress of some kind, with new additions; such as the glowing runes written in a language none present understood scattered all across the abyss drenched cloth and metal. The crack from before was now a glowing tattoo of a kind all across his chest and occasionally emitted small, strange and shadowy tendrils, just as the ones that spawned from his dark, motioned blemishes, further displaying how twisted this power was and had made him. His eyes were entirely a deep red, no irises or pupils to speak of and would occasionally glow when he willed it, yet still they were piercing and his gaze could still be felt wherever it lay. The seemingly Sacred Wings of Ahriman were now blackened, morphing and desecrated, yet still completely capable of flight and defense and his fingernails were now talons extending from slightly deformed fingers. To top it off, Ahriman was also barefoot, more muscular than before and his power was constantly visible in an aura he couldn't dim down even if he wanted to... The environment twisted further when he settled down to look upon the surely terrified, or at least astonished Fey and Humans who stood against him, the skies tearing away and flowing away from Ahriman and the group, into what was seemingly a singularity, though it would not seek to consume them or the Corrrupt God, it just threatened Isopolis's integrity in this reality...for now. Ahriman then sighed with relief, lowering himself to the ground, but continuing a low hover before the warriors. "This is all the power I have to give, mortals! Power beyond that of even your Dijinni...for you will not taste victory this day! Hahaha...instead! YOU will taste only your blood!!" What started as a dignified threat, bled away into derangement and hate for his foes...he didn't care for his goals for now, instead focusing on what he wanted most...he wanted them dead before his feet. And this power would make that happen. (Here it be...a long one indeed.)

- Soren Monroe, Sentinel for Festivity - Kilkis Seres, Shiva's Palace - Christmas Day - This time of year was often one Soren could not attend, due to duties as Sentinel of Isopolis and in the past, his service in Kilkis Seres's Military, but now, he was able to acquire some free time so he could fully experience Christmas with all those he cared about, rather than being alone or with the prisoners as their Warden. Surprisingly, Soren had taken the time to purchase and wrap Gifts for all those present at the Festival within the Palace, which meant he was later than some others, but wouldn't be too far behind the legendary Rhaedyn Thane, who made his grand entrance adorned with a Santa hat...upon his helmet. Soon enough, Soren entered through the main doors: He was dressed in a sharp set of dress blues, with padded shoulders though only lightly so, for Soren made up the difference with his own, buttoned up, straightened and form fitting just as it should be, from his military days and from other festivities in his life whenever he could actually make it to them. In one hand, he held a cane, the top adorned with a metal Sigil of Kilkis Seres as a pommel and inside, it held a hidden blade: This was essentially a medal, like the two that were upon his breast, for bravery and exceptional service, but this one was a rare honour, something he still holds with pride in his kingdom and all the good he accomplished. He never made a big deal about it, of course, he just let his actions speak for themselves and simply just be who he always was and is today. He also wore some fancy, shiny black shoes and in his other hand was also a sack of gifts, for all present. Carefully emptying the sack of its gifts and placing them under the grand tree, Soren approached the throne and took a knee before Queen Shiva, standing up his cane next to him as he did so beside Rhaedyn. "Your majesty, I too bring gifts on this celebrated day and..." Soren cleared his throat, noting he was being a bit too courteous, raising his head to look upon Shiva. "Well, Merry Christmas to you, my queen. And to you all, a Merry Christmas!" He went on, looking around the room as he did so, but he still waited for Shiva's word on when he should stand up. - Meksis, the Chaperone - Kilkis Seres, Shiva's Palace - Christmas Day - "Ahh, it's...been five thousand years since I last celebrated Christmas...but it feels wonderful to be here on this blessed day, my friends!" Meksis announced as he had entered shortly after Soren, accompanying him and dispensing his gifts to the Tree for opening at a later point, giving the Queen a respectful bow as he did. "Your majesty." He spoke kindly, then looked around. "I only wonder if Maxis can make it...he's usually punctual, I can assure you." He spoke softly to himself initially, though he had faith Shiva heard him, though he was caught off-guard by the presence of an Iron Lord, giving him a prompter bow out of surprise. "My Lord of Iron, I am honoured by your presence! I'm, unsure if we've met, forgive me." Meksis called out, putting his hands together as he asked for forgiveness, his passive Aura of the Chaperone aiding in his courtesy. - Nergal, the Polite, Gift Bearer, Red Baron, Renewed Remnant of Meksis - Kilkis Seres, Shiva's Palace - Christmas Day - During all of this, someone else had arrived, for he too was invited to the festivities, placing a fair few gifts under the tree, he was masked at first, but out of politeness, the man removed both it and his hood, putting them away as he took a deep breath, reveling the festivity in the air, extending his arms and even spinning on the spot for a moment, opening his eyes as he softly smiled, approaching the greater crowd. "What a momentous occasion indeed, my friends! Christmas Day...a time of love, gifts, good and the company of good men and women. I honestly feel as if I've missed out on this feeling...my entire life, if I'm to be honest. All five millennia of it. I truly appreciate this opportunity, all of you...particularly you for extending your invitation, your highness~" Nergal spoke softly and calmly, yet occasionally his voice would break due to strong feelings straight from the heart, as he was honest; he truly did love this time of year, despite it being only his first true Christmas experience, giving a slow bow to Queen Shiva as she resided upon her throne, observing all the happy people who had come together on this blessed day.