Written by Tahzani:
Tahzani had followed the group with a growing sense of unease. They were united in their task but the distance between several of them suggested an amount of distrust that could prove hazardous to the success of this rescue attempt. He was unsure of his place in the ritual, but if Khorvis could be pulled back to the proper plane, he would help in any way he could.
He hardly paid attention as the undead began to speak, the area they had been lead to was too distracting. The unnatural formation of mushrooms and the lingering ambience suggested it held great potential. The veil was weaker, and as such, easier to pierce by unblessed amateurs in the art. In time it could develop into a larger problem as this errant weave in reality developed into a full-blown hole. But for the moment, it suited their needs.
If the old orc had truly been in those lands for so long, he feared there would be little left to recover. Still, even pulling him back just to kill him here would be a greater mercy than leaving him to expire in the darkened land beyond.
Dark Star Rising
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Theira Oaksong:
Theira took her time in her feline feral form to scent the air and ground to track Baalthemar. She kept herself hidden and prowled the tall grasses and bushes the region rank with the scent of undead never sat well with the druid. She could see the gathering after some while her eyes narrowing at those attending she kept her body low to the ground so better to slink her way beside the rogue. Bright yellow reflective eyes came into focus as the druidess revealed herself to the gathering as a large wild cat. She sidled up beside Baal with a soft quiet purr the growling once as she scented the pack with the items he carried. She remained feral while she looked over those familiar and some unfamiliar faces her cat ears folding back she looked up to Baalthemar saying nothing. She settled down to beside him shifting forms, the grass around her seemed to grow taller flowers to bloom in her presence. She sat in a almost meditative stance muttering only to Baalthemar " Fear not, I will mend you as needed."
Theira took her time in her feline feral form to scent the air and ground to track Baalthemar. She kept herself hidden and prowled the tall grasses and bushes the region rank with the scent of undead never sat well with the druid. She could see the gathering after some while her eyes narrowing at those attending she kept her body low to the ground so better to slink her way beside the rogue. Bright yellow reflective eyes came into focus as the druidess revealed herself to the gathering as a large wild cat. She sidled up beside Baal with a soft quiet purr the growling once as she scented the pack with the items he carried. She remained feral while she looked over those familiar and some unfamiliar faces her cat ears folding back she looked up to Baalthemar saying nothing. She settled down to beside him shifting forms, the grass around her seemed to grow taller flowers to bloom in her presence. She sat in a almost meditative stance muttering only to Baalthemar " Fear not, I will mend you as needed."
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Chaoseater:
The Chaoseater’s massive form loomed behind the undead mage eyeing his assortment of tools and contraptions. The black plate that shrouded him whirred and clicked with internal mechanisms as he shook his head and turned towards the mushrooms. He began striding deliberately around the circle, widdershins in the parlance of druids who sometimes kept brighter groves than this sacred. Coldly glowing eyes watched the Matron from behind their clear crystal visor.
When three circuits had been complete the Death Knight stepped into the circle, his voice rumbled like stone on steel and shook droplets from the undersides of the mushroom ring.
“The Shadowlands will not be like any land you have known. This is the place between worlds, the darkness that devours. You who would pass, who would pierce the veil, step forth into the circle.” He paused rain streaking down across black metal dotted with the glowing blue of stylized skulls. “If any doubt your strength or ability, be gone now. Doubt, fear, these are a sweetness to the beings that torment he whom you would save. And in carrying them beyond thou would doom all.”
After a moment he turned to the tall elf, Baalthemar his name was “You have the items?”
The Chaoseater’s massive form loomed behind the undead mage eyeing his assortment of tools and contraptions. The black plate that shrouded him whirred and clicked with internal mechanisms as he shook his head and turned towards the mushrooms. He began striding deliberately around the circle, widdershins in the parlance of druids who sometimes kept brighter groves than this sacred. Coldly glowing eyes watched the Matron from behind their clear crystal visor.
When three circuits had been complete the Death Knight stepped into the circle, his voice rumbled like stone on steel and shook droplets from the undersides of the mushroom ring.
“The Shadowlands will not be like any land you have known. This is the place between worlds, the darkness that devours. You who would pass, who would pierce the veil, step forth into the circle.” He paused rain streaking down across black metal dotted with the glowing blue of stylized skulls. “If any doubt your strength or ability, be gone now. Doubt, fear, these are a sweetness to the beings that torment he whom you would save. And in carrying them beyond thou would doom all.”
After a moment he turned to the tall elf, Baalthemar his name was “You have the items?”
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Maikull:
Mai’kull approached the ring, but did not enter. From his analysis of this ritual, anyone tainted by shadow magic would jeopardize the mission. He would instead act as field support in maintaining the portal, and if worse came to pass…
Instead he withdrew the tome from his robes, separating the extra sheets he had concealed earlier, and flipped it open, there was a pulse of demonic energy from the magi for a moment, as he whispered demonic words from the book. He was still unsure exactly what he was saying, but every time he recited the words, the Void-caller was sure to answer the summons. Ignorance was possibly bliss in this case.
The hulking Void being rose from the shadows of the Maleficar; draped in an ethereal shawl with gothic lanterns hanging off its shoulders, the large Naaru-like structure on its back loomed over the figure, and sparked with an eerie light. “My void-caller is the one who initially located Khorvis. He was charged with safeguarding him in the shadowlands until we could pull him out. Wherever that stubborn Orc has taken refuge, this being will help lead you to him.”
Mai’kull approached the ring, but did not enter. From his analysis of this ritual, anyone tainted by shadow magic would jeopardize the mission. He would instead act as field support in maintaining the portal, and if worse came to pass…
Instead he withdrew the tome from his robes, separating the extra sheets he had concealed earlier, and flipped it open, there was a pulse of demonic energy from the magi for a moment, as he whispered demonic words from the book. He was still unsure exactly what he was saying, but every time he recited the words, the Void-caller was sure to answer the summons. Ignorance was possibly bliss in this case.
The hulking Void being rose from the shadows of the Maleficar; draped in an ethereal shawl with gothic lanterns hanging off its shoulders, the large Naaru-like structure on its back loomed over the figure, and sparked with an eerie light. “My void-caller is the one who initially located Khorvis. He was charged with safeguarding him in the shadowlands until we could pull him out. Wherever that stubborn Orc has taken refuge, this being will help lead you to him.”
Re: Dark Star Rising
Following the Voidcaller, Khorvis emerged slapdashedly within an expansive monstrosity of stone and arches. The reliquary, hitherto undisturbed, vaulted to shadowy heights and was alighted by machinery unfamiliar to the orc. Lines and curvatures resembling the ancient Keepers of Ulduar hearkened to their Titanic originators - indeed, the constellations of pinprick evanescences could only illuminate one conclusion: here was a tomb of the Makers.
Khorvis slowed his pace in a spat of momentary wonder. It was a disjointed portrait: a lone orc, painted in the Azerothian hues of life traversing the timeless majesty of a black and white mausoleum dating to the very beginnings of his visceral home. Mice could find more warmth of hospitality in a cathedral of the Light. And this orc had worn out his welcome.
Hot upon the heels of their prey, the wraiths boiled forth from the cavernous exit. These were no phantasms of the ethereal imagination; frothing and clattering, these beings of shadow heaved their asymmetrical limbs with the desperation of a starving pack of worgs. Maws gnashed their ebony canines. Limbs flailed and chests buckled, spewing forth insanities wrought of a night to eclipse all summers.
There was no further passage. No escape and no further depth to descend for the Lasher. He turned, centering his stance upon the middle of the dais sealing Tyr's tomb. A readiment of green fists. Khorvis turned to his companion.
The Voidcaller responded with a conciliatory expression, and then the stars of its face winked out. With a whisp of shadow, the void elemental vanished.
Khorvis slowed his pace in a spat of momentary wonder. It was a disjointed portrait: a lone orc, painted in the Azerothian hues of life traversing the timeless majesty of a black and white mausoleum dating to the very beginnings of his visceral home. Mice could find more warmth of hospitality in a cathedral of the Light. And this orc had worn out his welcome.
Hot upon the heels of their prey, the wraiths boiled forth from the cavernous exit. These were no phantasms of the ethereal imagination; frothing and clattering, these beings of shadow heaved their asymmetrical limbs with the desperation of a starving pack of worgs. Maws gnashed their ebony canines. Limbs flailed and chests buckled, spewing forth insanities wrought of a night to eclipse all summers.
There was no further passage. No escape and no further depth to descend for the Lasher. He turned, centering his stance upon the middle of the dais sealing Tyr's tomb. A readiment of green fists. Khorvis turned to his companion.
The Voidcaller responded with a conciliatory expression, and then the stars of its face winked out. With a whisp of shadow, the void elemental vanished.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Edgar Hornridge, servant to the High Inquisitor of The Grim. Slave and bone. His origins were banal. To grandstand the circumstances of his resurrection would be to discredit the honorable history of the Ebon Blade (post-Menethil, to be certain). A creature and cretin of secondhand necromancy, Boneslave could at best be said to embody the subservience of the orcish Peon. And yet, Reviled and Berotten, this peon still had an oddity hidden within the rusting mail of his cuirass.
The deathknight moved among the circle of attendees. The reasons of their patronages varied and concerned the corpse little. Edgar haunted past the elf Baal'themar, tall and changed. Some wrestled with an unrequited loyalty to an orc long since past his prime. The tides of of war swelled and receded, but the certainty of Elune always promised a future for the hungry of conflict.
Intersecting the shadows of the pines beneath which the Matron skulked, Edgar was not oblivious to the feline form. Slinking and pausing, waiting and hunting, she prowled the periphery. It was her eyes that pierced the circle of shades, yellow slits of reflective skeins that heralded pools of amber. In those depths a warrior could lose the entirety of his sanity, lost to the carnal baseness of being. Still, from those same pools sprang the fervent intensity of life - the aching urge to survive and endure.
The rains crashed against Boneslave's rusting armor as he dutifully placed the runeworks about the ritual circle.. Setting down the Elemental Ice Stone, a particularly wicked whisp of wind sheared his faceguard from its housing, revealing the morbid decay oft hidden from decent company. That lifeless rictus gaped wide at the assault of the elements. From afar, the shaman Storm would be able to peer through his farsight and witness the unfettered and guileless joy that Edgar alighted upon the unseasonal squall.
To trolls, Lilliana and Tahzani, the corpse flounced and twirled with mad glee, arms outstretched. A child dancing in the rain. Edgar almost carelessly tossed the Bloodstone Crystal to the feet of the trolless in his antics, seemingly mocking the ritual itself, until the prism began to glow warmly with a deep crimson. The light caught both the smiles of Lilliana and Edgar: smirking, quirking, cackling, and outright giggling. These were the living (and unliving), laughing in the face of death and shadow. Blood and life surged within their veins, and the thrill of travelling so close to the edge set the ring of mushrooms aflame with anticipation.
The spinning and dancing came to a clattering halt as Boneslave stumbled before the dark presence of the Maleficar, like a Grimrail prototype falling to pieces while upon the tracks. He bent low and now scuttled, for here was one who, despite the heat of his flames, exuded no warmth of life. To Mai'kull, Edgar deferred in the clear manner of servant to master, and once again the decrepit deathknight somberly, mournfully even, went about with the finishing touches of the ritual.
The Bonecube was nestled beneath one of the great toadstools, at the third point of the mushroom ring. Once the third runework was activated, a shimmering came upon the air within the enclosure, like a thin film of grease upon a polluted pond. It caught the light of the failure detection pylons at strange angles and cast a pallor upon the faces of the gathered.
Without hesitation, Edgar reached out with his rusting gauntlet and plunged it into the chest of the Maleficar's Voidcaller. Here the oddity of Boneslave made itself apparent: his uncanny affinity with the space between shadows and the hidden recesses of the plane of death. Talents often wasted upon such a spineless servant, finally they came to pay their dividends. Edgar pulled the Voidcaller to the center of the ring, and as he did so, the lanterns upon the creature's shoulders began to glow more brightly. It offered little resistance, confused and disoriented in the deathly fog of the ritual. Entranced and rooted at the middle of the circle, its constellation of eyes slowly spread apart, like the expansion of the stars, each racing away from one another, until they formed a ring about the Voidcaller's face.
The gauntlet retreated from the shadow elemental's chest, and Boneslave, exhausted, made his way upon hands and knees to the ritual's final participant. Chaoseater towered above the lowly knight. A great hulking mass of metal and ice, relating the two as both deathknights seemed to challenge the limits of absurdity. Edgar unsheathed the Blackrock dagger, an artifact that had been so close to Khorvis Bloodstar over the years, one that bore his stench and history. It was pointed villainously at the Voidcaller before being offered up with bowed head to Chaoseater.
"The way is ...ughhh... prepared. You must open... the path."
The deathknight moved among the circle of attendees. The reasons of their patronages varied and concerned the corpse little. Edgar haunted past the elf Baal'themar, tall and changed. Some wrestled with an unrequited loyalty to an orc long since past his prime. The tides of of war swelled and receded, but the certainty of Elune always promised a future for the hungry of conflict.
Intersecting the shadows of the pines beneath which the Matron skulked, Edgar was not oblivious to the feline form. Slinking and pausing, waiting and hunting, she prowled the periphery. It was her eyes that pierced the circle of shades, yellow slits of reflective skeins that heralded pools of amber. In those depths a warrior could lose the entirety of his sanity, lost to the carnal baseness of being. Still, from those same pools sprang the fervent intensity of life - the aching urge to survive and endure.
The rains crashed against Boneslave's rusting armor as he dutifully placed the runeworks about the ritual circle.. Setting down the Elemental Ice Stone, a particularly wicked whisp of wind sheared his faceguard from its housing, revealing the morbid decay oft hidden from decent company. That lifeless rictus gaped wide at the assault of the elements. From afar, the shaman Storm would be able to peer through his farsight and witness the unfettered and guileless joy that Edgar alighted upon the unseasonal squall.
To trolls, Lilliana and Tahzani, the corpse flounced and twirled with mad glee, arms outstretched. A child dancing in the rain. Edgar almost carelessly tossed the Bloodstone Crystal to the feet of the trolless in his antics, seemingly mocking the ritual itself, until the prism began to glow warmly with a deep crimson. The light caught both the smiles of Lilliana and Edgar: smirking, quirking, cackling, and outright giggling. These were the living (and unliving), laughing in the face of death and shadow. Blood and life surged within their veins, and the thrill of travelling so close to the edge set the ring of mushrooms aflame with anticipation.
The spinning and dancing came to a clattering halt as Boneslave stumbled before the dark presence of the Maleficar, like a Grimrail prototype falling to pieces while upon the tracks. He bent low and now scuttled, for here was one who, despite the heat of his flames, exuded no warmth of life. To Mai'kull, Edgar deferred in the clear manner of servant to master, and once again the decrepit deathknight somberly, mournfully even, went about with the finishing touches of the ritual.
The Bonecube was nestled beneath one of the great toadstools, at the third point of the mushroom ring. Once the third runework was activated, a shimmering came upon the air within the enclosure, like a thin film of grease upon a polluted pond. It caught the light of the failure detection pylons at strange angles and cast a pallor upon the faces of the gathered.
Without hesitation, Edgar reached out with his rusting gauntlet and plunged it into the chest of the Maleficar's Voidcaller. Here the oddity of Boneslave made itself apparent: his uncanny affinity with the space between shadows and the hidden recesses of the plane of death. Talents often wasted upon such a spineless servant, finally they came to pay their dividends. Edgar pulled the Voidcaller to the center of the ring, and as he did so, the lanterns upon the creature's shoulders began to glow more brightly. It offered little resistance, confused and disoriented in the deathly fog of the ritual. Entranced and rooted at the middle of the circle, its constellation of eyes slowly spread apart, like the expansion of the stars, each racing away from one another, until they formed a ring about the Voidcaller's face.
The gauntlet retreated from the shadow elemental's chest, and Boneslave, exhausted, made his way upon hands and knees to the ritual's final participant. Chaoseater towered above the lowly knight. A great hulking mass of metal and ice, relating the two as both deathknights seemed to challenge the limits of absurdity. Edgar unsheathed the Blackrock dagger, an artifact that had been so close to Khorvis Bloodstar over the years, one that bore his stench and history. It was pointed villainously at the Voidcaller before being offered up with bowed head to Chaoseater.
"The way is ...ughhh... prepared. You must open... the path."
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Theira Oaksong:
Theira watched the spectacle play out before her with a mixture of interest and disgust. She slowed her breathing so not to choke on the fettered stench of decay and brought herself up to standing. Thoughts, doubts started to trickle their way into her mind for what she had signed herself on for. Being a beacon of mending and life giving itself walking into the wastelands of death. Theira frowned deeply closing her eyes with worry perhaps her presence here would attract more harm than good. The druidess shifted her weight and straightened up holding her staff in hand. She shook her head of the doubts heeding Chaoseaters warning of bringing such thoughts with them determined not to be the weak link in the chain. Her eyes opened and burned with a new sense of determination, a spark of the wilds. First and foremost she was here to release Khorvis and maintain the lives of those here. Theira stood tall and ready as she glanced to Chaoseater now prepared to face down whatever darkness came.
Theira watched the spectacle play out before her with a mixture of interest and disgust. She slowed her breathing so not to choke on the fettered stench of decay and brought herself up to standing. Thoughts, doubts started to trickle their way into her mind for what she had signed herself on for. Being a beacon of mending and life giving itself walking into the wastelands of death. Theira frowned deeply closing her eyes with worry perhaps her presence here would attract more harm than good. The druidess shifted her weight and straightened up holding her staff in hand. She shook her head of the doubts heeding Chaoseaters warning of bringing such thoughts with them determined not to be the weak link in the chain. Her eyes opened and burned with a new sense of determination, a spark of the wilds. First and foremost she was here to release Khorvis and maintain the lives of those here. Theira stood tall and ready as she glanced to Chaoseater now prepared to face down whatever darkness came.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Baalthemar:
Baal'themar rolled his shoulders relaxing his body before they needed to fight, and there was no doubt... there would be a fight. He checked his blades, both still had a thick coating of poison. Baal'themar smiled. We are coming Khorvis... just hang on a little longer. He waited for the others to make a move
Baal'themar rolled his shoulders relaxing his body before they needed to fight, and there was no doubt... there would be a fight. He checked his blades, both still had a thick coating of poison. Baal'themar smiled. We are coming Khorvis... just hang on a little longer. He waited for the others to make a move
Last edited by Khorvis on Thu Feb 02, 2017 4:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Chaoseater:
His bone face twitched and spasmed as Bager held back a fit of laughter and excitement. Within the mushroom circle the air had grown thick with the potential of what would be wrought here. The Steelborn had taken a dagger from the skeletal orc slave and knelt. He had been there, kneeling completely still for long minutes now, even the blue skulls of his armor had lost their glow, and the massive Warchief seemed like nothing so much as a statue. It was all the Laughing Skull could do to keep from cackling.
Even now he knew the Steelborn was drawing his power, the might that Bager had first seen on his homeworld of Draenor. A power more fundamental than any of strength at arms or skill in combat. It was an idea, an underpinning. He had heard this one called many things. A Death Knight, Steelborn, Lord of War. But now he would truly be himself…. The Gatekeeper.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rain sputtered to an uneasy end, silence fell over the circle and it’s inhabitants, and still the massive steel form knelt unmoving and unmoved. After what seemed like an eternity there was a loud crack, like the shot of a dwarven rifle, and a lance of glowing purple energy shone from a point on the edge of the circle. A glowing rune of some unknown script, seemingly punched through the very earth as cleanly as a scribe draws on parchment. Another crack resounded from the opposite side of the circle, and another, all in a rattling rush until at last thirteen glowing sigils defined the circle around the gathering. The sky above grew black consumed by an unseen void stretching into the unknown.
There was a rustle of movement from in front of the trolls. The Blood crystal rose into the air, spinning slightly. Light from the runic circle played and danced within its many facets as the gen lifted over the heads of the onlookers. It spun faster, its lines blurring, the light somehow becoming more intense, casting blood hued beams across the circle until finally it shattered a sound like the deathrattle of some massive beast. Fine crystalline shards spun and ground themselves into a fine mist which when swirling as though with a mind of its own around the clearing twisting and curling around each of the participants. Serpents made of wind and mist coiled and sprang to the center of the circle where they crashed into the kneeling form of the Chaoseater where they exploded in puffs of red dust which drifted towards the ground, briefly defining ghostly unseen chains in the air. Chains that seemed to link each of the inhabitants of the circle with the inert Death Knight before fading away with the remnants of the mist. Still, all would feel the sharpening of senses, the connection between them all at the very edge of perception.
After another moment of silence the wind outside the circle whipped up, and the sky above flashed with a lance of lightning. As if on queue, the stone of elemental Ice lifted from the ground, tumbling and spinning slowly in the air. Rain began pelting down in a torrent, and where it struck the stone icy stalagmites formed, expanding outward. Like it’s red brother, the ice stone spun and whirled, it drifted to the center of the clearing above the large black figure and after a moment that stretched into infinity it exploded. Icy needles shot out in every direction but the missiles were not as deadly as they seemed. They caused no pain where they struck, did not sink past the surface, but spread covering any and all in a rime of thick frost. Armor was reinforced, claws and weapons because razors sharpened by crystalline edges, and a subtle cold power permeated the party. Not the debilitating cold of most magic, but the bracing cold felt by a powerful predator in the depths of winter, one lunge away from the sustaining blood of a kill.
Though the rain outside the circle continued, within it sputtered to a slow halt, becoming instead a lazy snow flurry, and finally channles in his armor flooded with blue light and the Chaoseater rose. He took one long stride forward, and plunged the black dagger into the ground. With one long glance around he regained the center and with the rasp of steel on steel he drew the massive cleaver-like sword at his back. Runes along it’s length flared to life at their master’s touch and a swirling vortex of unholy light flickered at the tip between shattered shards of steel. He faced the dagger where it stood in the ground and raised a hand to his left all three fingers outstretched.
All but forgotten, the bone cube shot through the air to the massive Tauren’s hand. He turned his frozen gaze to it, turning the bauble this way and that before whipping it into the air. The bone surface was lost in the gloom until it came falling back, tumbling end over end. Black cloak whipping in the wind, the Death Knight spun, faster than should be possible for a being of his size and brought the sword around in a flat arc, catching the cube as it fell and slicing clean through. A wail of pain and fear broke free from the empty halves of the box, accompanied by sickly green and purple mist that writhed and tangled, offering glimpses of a tortured human face, before it shot towards the sword encapsulating it in a shrieking tornado of magic, until it was consumed by the nexus at the end of the blade.
Purple energy crackled over the Chaoseater’s armor as he re-sheathed his dark blade and grunted. Compressed air shot from vents in his helmet with sharp bursts of satisfaction. Finally he raised a hand as bolts of barely contained energy lept out, tearing up the ground and tracing a large rune beneath him. He reached out in the direction of the blade delicately, softly, and with a gentleness unbecoming of the dreaded Warchief of the Blacktooth Grin he took reality between his fingertips and drew it aside. The deep rumble of his voice swept out in a whisper that nonetheless shook the circle and the forest around “Aparturum”
Before the group a shimmering purple door stood tall, the darkness and gloom beyond impermeable past the first several feet. The Death Knight kept his arm raised and glanced to the others.
“Your way is prepared. I shall hold the gate, but know this. None shall pass back into this world tainted, and the door will not remain open for the laggard. Be about your business, for the way will not survive the hour….”
He turned his visor back to the portal and he seemed to dismiss them all. Again he drew his sword and stood. Ready.
His bone face twitched and spasmed as Bager held back a fit of laughter and excitement. Within the mushroom circle the air had grown thick with the potential of what would be wrought here. The Steelborn had taken a dagger from the skeletal orc slave and knelt. He had been there, kneeling completely still for long minutes now, even the blue skulls of his armor had lost their glow, and the massive Warchief seemed like nothing so much as a statue. It was all the Laughing Skull could do to keep from cackling.
Even now he knew the Steelborn was drawing his power, the might that Bager had first seen on his homeworld of Draenor. A power more fundamental than any of strength at arms or skill in combat. It was an idea, an underpinning. He had heard this one called many things. A Death Knight, Steelborn, Lord of War. But now he would truly be himself…. The Gatekeeper.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rain sputtered to an uneasy end, silence fell over the circle and it’s inhabitants, and still the massive steel form knelt unmoving and unmoved. After what seemed like an eternity there was a loud crack, like the shot of a dwarven rifle, and a lance of glowing purple energy shone from a point on the edge of the circle. A glowing rune of some unknown script, seemingly punched through the very earth as cleanly as a scribe draws on parchment. Another crack resounded from the opposite side of the circle, and another, all in a rattling rush until at last thirteen glowing sigils defined the circle around the gathering. The sky above grew black consumed by an unseen void stretching into the unknown.
There was a rustle of movement from in front of the trolls. The Blood crystal rose into the air, spinning slightly. Light from the runic circle played and danced within its many facets as the gen lifted over the heads of the onlookers. It spun faster, its lines blurring, the light somehow becoming more intense, casting blood hued beams across the circle until finally it shattered a sound like the deathrattle of some massive beast. Fine crystalline shards spun and ground themselves into a fine mist which when swirling as though with a mind of its own around the clearing twisting and curling around each of the participants. Serpents made of wind and mist coiled and sprang to the center of the circle where they crashed into the kneeling form of the Chaoseater where they exploded in puffs of red dust which drifted towards the ground, briefly defining ghostly unseen chains in the air. Chains that seemed to link each of the inhabitants of the circle with the inert Death Knight before fading away with the remnants of the mist. Still, all would feel the sharpening of senses, the connection between them all at the very edge of perception.
After another moment of silence the wind outside the circle whipped up, and the sky above flashed with a lance of lightning. As if on queue, the stone of elemental Ice lifted from the ground, tumbling and spinning slowly in the air. Rain began pelting down in a torrent, and where it struck the stone icy stalagmites formed, expanding outward. Like it’s red brother, the ice stone spun and whirled, it drifted to the center of the clearing above the large black figure and after a moment that stretched into infinity it exploded. Icy needles shot out in every direction but the missiles were not as deadly as they seemed. They caused no pain where they struck, did not sink past the surface, but spread covering any and all in a rime of thick frost. Armor was reinforced, claws and weapons because razors sharpened by crystalline edges, and a subtle cold power permeated the party. Not the debilitating cold of most magic, but the bracing cold felt by a powerful predator in the depths of winter, one lunge away from the sustaining blood of a kill.
Though the rain outside the circle continued, within it sputtered to a slow halt, becoming instead a lazy snow flurry, and finally channles in his armor flooded with blue light and the Chaoseater rose. He took one long stride forward, and plunged the black dagger into the ground. With one long glance around he regained the center and with the rasp of steel on steel he drew the massive cleaver-like sword at his back. Runes along it’s length flared to life at their master’s touch and a swirling vortex of unholy light flickered at the tip between shattered shards of steel. He faced the dagger where it stood in the ground and raised a hand to his left all three fingers outstretched.
All but forgotten, the bone cube shot through the air to the massive Tauren’s hand. He turned his frozen gaze to it, turning the bauble this way and that before whipping it into the air. The bone surface was lost in the gloom until it came falling back, tumbling end over end. Black cloak whipping in the wind, the Death Knight spun, faster than should be possible for a being of his size and brought the sword around in a flat arc, catching the cube as it fell and slicing clean through. A wail of pain and fear broke free from the empty halves of the box, accompanied by sickly green and purple mist that writhed and tangled, offering glimpses of a tortured human face, before it shot towards the sword encapsulating it in a shrieking tornado of magic, until it was consumed by the nexus at the end of the blade.
Purple energy crackled over the Chaoseater’s armor as he re-sheathed his dark blade and grunted. Compressed air shot from vents in his helmet with sharp bursts of satisfaction. Finally he raised a hand as bolts of barely contained energy lept out, tearing up the ground and tracing a large rune beneath him. He reached out in the direction of the blade delicately, softly, and with a gentleness unbecoming of the dreaded Warchief of the Blacktooth Grin he took reality between his fingertips and drew it aside. The deep rumble of his voice swept out in a whisper that nonetheless shook the circle and the forest around “Aparturum”
Before the group a shimmering purple door stood tall, the darkness and gloom beyond impermeable past the first several feet. The Death Knight kept his arm raised and glanced to the others.
“Your way is prepared. I shall hold the gate, but know this. None shall pass back into this world tainted, and the door will not remain open for the laggard. Be about your business, for the way will not survive the hour….”
He turned his visor back to the portal and he seemed to dismiss them all. Again he drew his sword and stood. Ready.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Mai'kull stood resolute as the waves of shadow washed over his robed form. The last traces of the Voidcaller drifted upwards as the gate to the Shadowlands bisected the elemental from earth to crown. An unfortunate end for a creature who had simply desired freedom, but every one had their parts to play. Master and slave, general and grunt, each participant in this ritual must embrace their station. The sacrifice at the hands of Chaoseater spread the way for the party and to their quarry. Through the gateway, a distorted and grayscale passage was revealed bearing all of the hallmarks of Titanic design. Somewhere in that tomb retreated the late High Inquisitor, taken body and spirit into the Shadowlands.
In the lull of the ritual, an ominous calm had come upon the circle. The gateway just... hung there, as did the echo of Chaoseater's final statement. The Whispering Forest was deathly silent despite the squall raging outside of the mushroom ring. Like a leypetal under glass, the gathering existed oblivious to material externalities. All attention was drawn to the center.
The void-attuned pylons hummed in pitched oscillations and reacted with a split-second crack and explosions of arcane oblivion to a shifting in the inter-planar aperture. Barely afforded the transmission of their appearance, a frantic vanguard of spidery wraiths were shattered and ripped asunder as they attempted to exit the gateway. Mai'kull focused his attunement to the failure-detection system and heaved the lion's share of his mana into maintaining the wards. A rattling staccato of voidlings issued from the portal at an ever increasing pace, each meeting near-instantaneous destruction in showers of greasy ash and photo-negative vaporizations. The firs and pines of Tirisfal alighted from their undersides in flashes of white and sapphire until the entire squall seemed a stop-motion reel of images, like those designed by goblin tinkers to amuse children.
After some breathless moments of arcane annihilation, the emergence of these wraiths slowed to intermittent forays and proddings, each weaker than the last. The Maleficar finally relinquished his tight rein over the wards and allowed their design to follow, affording the mage opportunity to address his companions.
"The Steelborn speaks truths. You must not tarry beyond this gateway. I will remain behind to ensure that the way is clear... and that nothing undreamt escapes."
The shattering of a final wraithling punctuated Mai'kull's portentious pronouncement and the onslaught ceased.
In the lull of the ritual, an ominous calm had come upon the circle. The gateway just... hung there, as did the echo of Chaoseater's final statement. The Whispering Forest was deathly silent despite the squall raging outside of the mushroom ring. Like a leypetal under glass, the gathering existed oblivious to material externalities. All attention was drawn to the center.
The void-attuned pylons hummed in pitched oscillations and reacted with a split-second crack and explosions of arcane oblivion to a shifting in the inter-planar aperture. Barely afforded the transmission of their appearance, a frantic vanguard of spidery wraiths were shattered and ripped asunder as they attempted to exit the gateway. Mai'kull focused his attunement to the failure-detection system and heaved the lion's share of his mana into maintaining the wards. A rattling staccato of voidlings issued from the portal at an ever increasing pace, each meeting near-instantaneous destruction in showers of greasy ash and photo-negative vaporizations. The firs and pines of Tirisfal alighted from their undersides in flashes of white and sapphire until the entire squall seemed a stop-motion reel of images, like those designed by goblin tinkers to amuse children.
After some breathless moments of arcane annihilation, the emergence of these wraiths slowed to intermittent forays and proddings, each weaker than the last. The Maleficar finally relinquished his tight rein over the wards and allowed their design to follow, affording the mage opportunity to address his companions.
"The Steelborn speaks truths. You must not tarry beyond this gateway. I will remain behind to ensure that the way is clear... and that nothing undreamt escapes."
The shattering of a final wraithling punctuated Mai'kull's portentious pronouncement and the onslaught ceased.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Baalthemar:
"Let's get this done then." Baal'themar growled as he walked toward the portal... he wondered if he was going to return, and what state Khorvis was in... it didn't matter in the end, he would save his brother or die trying. He stopped at the edge of the portal waiting for a moment for the others.
"Let's get this done then." Baal'themar growled as he walked toward the portal... he wondered if he was going to return, and what state Khorvis was in... it didn't matter in the end, he would save his brother or die trying. He stopped at the edge of the portal waiting for a moment for the others.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Storm Skychaser:
While Baal’themar stood waiting for the others, a fire pillar suddenly appeared several yards behind the ritual site, illuminating the entire area in the process. Within it a fire elemental could be seen and heard “I am Brazion, let the light of my fire guide you back, as your weapons burn with my power”; fire sparks started flying out of the pillar heading directly to the weaponry of the assembled party quickly igniting flames around them. Daggers, swords, arrows, whatever weapons were present, they were now empowered by a glowing red fire.
Just after the fire elemental display, an earth elemental rose from the ground, looking at Theira he spoke “Matron, Petrik of earth stands with you today, your spells will have my blessing”, with these words an earthen shield was formed around the Matron of Rutilus Luna.
Finally the rain and wind took shape into two more beings, Venthesh and Hialaq, an air and a water elemental respectively, “tonight, the forces of wind and water will protect those of you entering the shadow realm” they said, while the armor of those empowered by the ice crystal shined with a light blue hue.
As the four elementals stood united, another presence made himself known to the party, one that wasn’t there but was watching them from afar, “Good luck” Stormsky whispered.
While Baal’themar stood waiting for the others, a fire pillar suddenly appeared several yards behind the ritual site, illuminating the entire area in the process. Within it a fire elemental could be seen and heard “I am Brazion, let the light of my fire guide you back, as your weapons burn with my power”; fire sparks started flying out of the pillar heading directly to the weaponry of the assembled party quickly igniting flames around them. Daggers, swords, arrows, whatever weapons were present, they were now empowered by a glowing red fire.
Just after the fire elemental display, an earth elemental rose from the ground, looking at Theira he spoke “Matron, Petrik of earth stands with you today, your spells will have my blessing”, with these words an earthen shield was formed around the Matron of Rutilus Luna.
Finally the rain and wind took shape into two more beings, Venthesh and Hialaq, an air and a water elemental respectively, “tonight, the forces of wind and water will protect those of you entering the shadow realm” they said, while the armor of those empowered by the ice crystal shined with a light blue hue.
As the four elementals stood united, another presence made himself known to the party, one that wasn’t there but was watching them from afar, “Good luck” Stormsky whispered.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Theira:
Theira bowed her head towards Stormsky and the Elemental graciously accepting the gift of the earthen shield. With that she cracked a grin and walked towards the portal, she nodded towards Chaoseater and stepped through after Baal'themar.
Theira bowed her head towards Stormsky and the Elemental graciously accepting the gift of the earthen shield. With that she cracked a grin and walked towards the portal, she nodded towards Chaoseater and stepped through after Baal'themar.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Baalthemar:
Baal'themar felt his armor freeze, the sudden cold made him gasp. The ice magic hardened over his armor adding yet another layer of protection to his combat gear. He growled and looked at his daggers, they glowed like embers, but their heat didn't burn his flesh. Thanks Storm... he grinned thinking of the Tauren before stepping through the portal and into the unknown.
Like with all portals he was ripped between reality and spat out in a slight daze. He looked back to the portal and watched Theira walk through behind him. "We don't have much time. 'the way will not survive the hour' " he quoted Chaoseater. Baal'themar looked around trying to find some sign of Khorvis. "Right well... fuck this place." He smiled at Theira and started to jog. "Think you can keep up old girl?" he asked her with a sly grin.
Baal'themar felt his armor freeze, the sudden cold made him gasp. The ice magic hardened over his armor adding yet another layer of protection to his combat gear. He growled and looked at his daggers, they glowed like embers, but their heat didn't burn his flesh. Thanks Storm... he grinned thinking of the Tauren before stepping through the portal and into the unknown.
Like with all portals he was ripped between reality and spat out in a slight daze. He looked back to the portal and watched Theira walk through behind him. "We don't have much time. 'the way will not survive the hour' " he quoted Chaoseater. Baal'themar looked around trying to find some sign of Khorvis. "Right well... fuck this place." He smiled at Theira and started to jog. "Think you can keep up old girl?" he asked her with a sly grin.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Theira:
Theira huffed a bit using her staff to assist her walking, the elder Tauren walked with a bit of a limp but quickened her step and pushed herself to keep up with Baal. "I may be an old girl yet but I am not without some tricks." She grinned at the elf before leaping forward with a flash of green light shifting into her feline form. With four legs versus two she would able to pad after the rogue easier. The large cat kept her eyes and ears forward as she scented the air as they ran hoping that some sign of Khorvis would reveal itself and she might be able to track him. Theira ran beside Baal'themar with claws extended for each stride surveying the horizon for any threats as they searched.
Theira huffed a bit using her staff to assist her walking, the elder Tauren walked with a bit of a limp but quickened her step and pushed herself to keep up with Baal. "I may be an old girl yet but I am not without some tricks." She grinned at the elf before leaping forward with a flash of green light shifting into her feline form. With four legs versus two she would able to pad after the rogue easier. The large cat kept her eyes and ears forward as she scented the air as they ran hoping that some sign of Khorvis would reveal itself and she might be able to track him. Theira ran beside Baal'themar with claws extended for each stride surveying the horizon for any threats as they searched.