Majestic & Misunderstood

[Talon]

D A E M O N

When the Crownwyrm moved. So did he. As the golden glow of the dragon’s fire blossomed in his chest he felt all of them begin to move. They stopped with Varvara’s command. Florian had made his sacrifice. Arcas, breathed a sigh of relief. He watched as the goddess ascended higher, and after a moment, he stepped forward. As he moved, he could almost feel the influence of the armor whispering to him, coercing him to reject, to betray, to turn his back on everything that was in front of him. He did not need to be free. He was free. He was as free as the Emperor commanded. He was loyal. He was a champion of the empire. He did not desire any of this.

That realization hit him starkly. He pressed a hand to his head. He struggled to clear his thoughts.

The dark undertones that lingered at the edges of his divine nimbus grew starker. Like claws that were digging into his soul. Into his mind. Into every part of him. This was not what the emperor wanted. This was disloyalty to the empire. This…

He stumbled and blinked, shaking his head.

Avaerys and Varvara were right. Florian was right.

Oathbreaker. That burned him and shamed him more than he could put words to. But it did not matter. All that mattered was that he act. He had to act. The Imperium commanded it. The Emperor…

No.

His eyes burned to life with silver fire as he fought against the claws digging into his soul, into his mind. He felt torn but he had to hold onto himself. In the eyes of the divine, those who could see past the material realm and into the aethereal, it was as though a parasite were hatching and plunging in the Lightbringer’s soul. The bindings of the armor, made lax by Varvara, began to tighten as they dug into him. Arcas gripped his skull as it felt like his very head were going to explode.

The whole world slowed down. He could see blackness creeping at the edges of his vision. He could see Varvara. He could see Avaerys. He could see the creatures of shadow beginning to creep out of the darkness and begin to swarm. Overhead, it seemed as though the Shadow of the Eclipse was moving more firmly into position. He did not know what that meant but he knew it meant ill. He did the only thing he could think of as his mind began to swim.

He made a sacrifice.

Across the bonds of power that tied his divinity to the Divine Seal that still bound Avaerys, Arcas made a choice. He sacrificed the Seal itself to the Twin Gods of Solunarium. He severed it from himself and bestowed its power at the Altar of Domination. His eyes met the Founders.

Suffer at my hands no more. Take it. Restore yourselves. Save them. Be free.

The Light of his nimbus turned Dark.

---

He was back in the cathedral. Silver chains leapt from the shadows and grabbed his arms. He tried to fight them off but his strength quickly faded. The carved pictographs that had been cut into his skin morning, afternoon and night, etched themselves back into his flesh. He screamed in agony and fury as he fought desperately against being drawn back into the circle that had kept him prisoner. But it was no use. He was dragged back into the circle and all around him, there was only darkness.

---

The armor upon Arcas body pulsed with eldritch power as it reasserted itself. Though his silver-white light still shone, there was a twisted shadow beneath it. His skin had returned to the pale of his Siltori heritage. His wings unfurled, the feathers turning a midnight black and the markings upon his body became a warped and twisted color. Arcas face was blank before a mad grin crossed it.

He leapt.

[Florian]

Florian had gone so far to ignore the dragons, and spent such single-minded, furious attention on the founders, that he had not noticed one approach. But it did not kill him. He knew little of dragons, and this was the first he had seen, aside from his mother — but curiosity was not in his interests. It was, too, not in his interests to have come here. The tether that formed between him and Varvara was multifaceted, a divine chain that he could not hope to break. He knew, then, it was his own freedom he had sacrificed for Talon.

His gaze shifted to Talon, the change in his light and nimbus most evident. While Varvara entwined his power with hers, the demigod of light began to turn very, very dark. Florian stepped back. He was not afraid — he was disgusted, disappointed, and angry. The man he had trusted, the promise he had kept, and it had been used against him. No king could be trusted. He was dizzy with the feeling brought by Varvara's binding of him, euphoria and horror brooked a terrifying cocktail of emotions. He had freed and stitched himself to the enemies of himself, and someone he wished to call a friend had only served to facilitate it.

Florian's eyes did not look to Varvara as he stared at Talon. Arcas? His hand continued to bleed, and he took another step back as his gaze was met. The rebellion that Talon held in his heart could not compare to the insidious control that the armor had over him, and it was not something that he could yet break. It was up to Varvara to act — but as the shadows approached and Arcas' wings unfurled, she had to act quickly.

Florian's blood had spilled onto the ground around him, and as Arcas leapt towards him, he had a spark of realization. No tyrant could suffer to live where his blood had been spilled. He could not kill Arcas, but the god of light could not so easily kill him, either, and when Light crossed over the spilt sacrifice, it stopped him from advancing any further towards the Lysanrin. He would feel the burning anger that Florian felt, made into physical pain.

"You are no better than a tyrant yourself," Florian hissed. He was not prepared to face either the far more powerful demigod and a legion of shadows, but he was prepared to survive. He had always survived. He glanced at the twin gods for a moment, and looked back to Arcas, held at bay by the very sacrifice made to save him. "Fuck you."

[Pharaoh]

Zalkyriax serpentine neck arched as he regarded the swarming wraiths that circled Kaladon.

"Fratres! Sorores! Impetum!" He commanded, as he launched into the air, and began to light the shadowy creatures with dragonfire, soon joined in combat by his draconic kin.

The Goddess of Chains felt a resistance to those she'd woven between the cracks in Arcas' armour to loosen the imperial bonds enough to travel abroad of Solunarium. Though She did not forge these arcane tethers that tightened around the spirit of the Lightbringer, they were still instruments of Domination, which was very much Her domain. With Her old power returning augmented by the new potency She siphoned from Rebellion, the Imperatrix pulled at the eldritch armour. This would not be easy on Arcas, but that had never been part of their arrangement and, having handled things as he had, She bore little in the way of sympathy for the physical and mental pain she would inflict as she pulled at that which bound the demigod to his personal prison. She had yet to realise that his prior actions may, too, have been influenced by the entity against which she now vied. In the midst of this conflict, something shifted abruptly.

► Show Spoiler

As Aværys felt His bonds melt toward the altar His grin was as radiant as His brightening nimbus. A thunderous laugh burst forth from His chest as He slowly rose and cast his gaze skyward toward the conflict between dragons and wraiths. With His power born anew, He was very keen to use it. Suddenly, he shot up into the sky and extended his arms to summon forth searing spears drawn from the lava churning at Kaladon's core, which he shot into the swarm of shadowy wraiths.

It was Arcas' own rebellion that ultimately severed the tether. As he fought back enough to not only free Aværys, but also to offer sacrifice to the Twins, he was pushing where Varvara pulled. The offering sent a surge of force through all gathered.

In the moment Arcas leapt toward Florian, she snapped Her chains back and with the forward momentum, Arcas would stumble forward as the armour was flung back and suspended. The metal writhed and warped as Varvara sneered, and bound it in more and stronger chains and affixed it to the Altar of Domination, where it could do naught but submit.

With Arcas freed and Florian fuming, Varvara relaxed Her bond to the latter, letting the visible tether fade into nothing.

"That is a battle for another time, child. The imminent battle rageth above! To arms, Arcas, and let Us shed Light to thwart th'advance of yond shadows!" With that, She shot into the air to join Her Twin and Their draconic companions as they vied against the seemingly endless swarm of shadowy creatures.

[Talon]

D A E M O N

Distantly he could see himself launching himself at Florian. He heard the other demigod’s words but he was powerless to respond. He felt the demigod’s blood sear and ignite the very blood in his veins. He felt the chains binding him grow tighter. He felt the etchings on his skin burn. But as he was about to lose himself to the blackness of the impenetrable dark, he saw cracks form in the prison that had entrapped him. Columns of silver moonlight pierced through the black and began shining upon him. They made the markings upon his skin burn all the hotter and he screamed in agony. Breathless, he grit his teeth as he began fighting, pushing, pulling against the chains that locked him away in his own mind and body. He felt the metal dig into his flesh. It felt as though his arms were about to be pulled from his sockets when another ray of moonlight burst through the dark.

The chains…weakened.

Arcas roared in absolute fury.

The chains broke.

He felt clarity begin returning to his thoughts. Fire sparked in his eyes as the markings upon his flesh began being burned away by his rage. He slowly pulled himself to his feet as another ray of moonlight burst through the dark and he felt the power over him weaken that much more. Unfurling his wings, he sent a wave of Light sweeping out from the very core of his soul, joining the moonlight that was shining through the darkness. That was when he felt it.

Freedom.

----

As the armor was torn from his body, he stumbled forward. He screamed in pain as pieces of his flesh went with the armor as it desperately tried to continue its sole purpose of imprisoning him. Staggering, he nearly collapsed but for the sudden strength of familiar arms around his waist. His chest was heaving. Blood dripped from wounds in his skin where the armor had tried to burrow into his very body. For all the pain however, for all the weariness that overtook him he felt a veil cleared from his thoughts. His head throbbed in pain but his mind felt like his own. Stunned, he looked around.

“Talon?” A hand suddenly on his cheek. He looked up into burning irises. “Talon? Hey, look at me.”

He did. He looked into that face. It was all both familiar and strange to him at the same time. He felt as though he were waking from some nightmare that had been on repeat over and over and over. He looked at Aoren’s worried face. Then he saw the column of volcanic fire that was released from one of the Twins. He saw the dragons circling overhead. He saw the wraiths swarming over the tops of the mountain and clawing their way toward the group gathered before the altar.

“We need to leave. You are--” He stood up straight. He grunted, catching Aoren’s attention. The movement caused him pain but it was a clarifying pain that helped center him. He had dealt with worse. The wounds would heal. Holding himself to Aoren for steady support he looked at Florian. He had one bare foot upon blood that had spilled across the ground. It caused him no pain. Not anymore. With heavy breaths he spoke clearly, a new sort of anger springing up inside of him.

“I am no more a Tyrant than you are a Savior.” He took a few steps back, still being supported by Aoren who frowned. Turning he limped forward with Aoren still supporting him in order to face the swarm of shadows that were surging forward in even greater numbers. Once more he allowed the veil of mortality to fall away. His nimbus formed and this time, there were no undercurrents of shadow. The broken and faded edges that had been so prevalent before were gone. Slowly, a silver-white fire began to emanate from his body. It wrapped around his form and spread to Aoren but the Kathar warrior did not flinch away from it. The mark of Eminence upon Aoren began to glow more brightly and he too began to emit the silver-white of Dawnfire. The fire would burn only who and what Arcas wanted it to burn and at the moment, he only wanted to deal with the immediate threat of the shadow wraiths.

Staring at the swarming shadows, he realized…he knew them. He could feel an ancient presence within them. One that was familiar but also…different. He looked up to the eclipse that hung in the skies. He could practically feel something or rather someone staring back at him. If he looked close enough, he thought he could see a light shining softly within the core of the black sun that hung in the skies, casting shadows all across the world. Raising a hand, he cast the extended his senses across the aether flux and through it began to weave together a dome constructed of the very Dawnfire that he had made. He built a barrier around their enclosure, shielding the dragons, Avaerys, Varvara, Florian, Aoren, Adrian and Marcel and creating a threshold that the wraiths could not cross without being destroyed by his light.

More than that however, he spread his awareness through the very weft and weave of the sunlight shining through the edges of the eclipse. He followed the corridors of aether across the aether flux and he infused them with the light of his Dawnfire, exciting them into motion until they burned outward in an ever expanding web that cascaded over the mountain in a latticework that captured wraith after wraith after wraith. He pushed further and further until he had burned away more than he could count. Until the light of his nimbus and the inferno of Dawnfire had spread to cover as much of the swarm as he could see. When he could sustain it no more, he dropped his hand and slumped against Aoren who held him tightly. He leaned against his partner, his eyes turning to the armor that was now bound to the Altar of Domination. He wanted to burn it until not even molten slag was left but there was a part of him that feared that if he so much as touched it, it would ensnare him once more.

[Mirage]

The armor slammed into the alter with a dull thunk and the clink of chains binding it tighter and tighter until its inky black surface cracked like dark glass. Free from Arcas it moved as if it had a mind of its own, shrinking in and forming tendrils of ink that thrashed and struggled against the chains. The chest piece split open and an eye made of green fire peaked out through jagged chunks of metal that shaped a crooked maw with gnashing teeth. Slowly it lost its life, the life in its glowing eye dimming until it stilled and returned to its original state. The cracks on its surface slowly filled in, the black liquid on its surface filling in all damages until it was fully restored and lay as pristine as the day Talon first worked on it in the tower.

While the battle of light and shadow grew in intensity, a thin line was cut into reality near the Alter. It opened as silent as death, and from the portal came a cold wind and the sound of chanting.

► Show Spoiler

Inside was a world of greyscale and broken buildings, towers of twisted metal and glass, and things that walked on inverted paths leading structures in the distance. The view was then cast in shadow as an eye as large as an elder dragon peaked into the world of Ransera. Its iris was a swirl of green and blue with three horizontal pupils stacked in layers at its center. The eye disappeared and was replaced by a hand with too many joints which reached through the opening and into the world. As it did so Ransera shook and where its decaying skin touched became distorted. It took the armor in two of its yellowed claws and pulled it back into its realm, the chains that bound it rusting away before crumbling to dust.

The eye returned and looked at Arcas for a moment, and in the swirling iris was contained all knowledge and wisdom of every world. All questions, and all answers. Everything that was ever conceived and that would be conceived. A voice came through the opening, but its words were nonsense and indescribable. To think about them was to go mad. One part, however, could barely be understood.

O̴̮̳̾a̶̤͍̭̜͉͑͋̂̽̚t̵̪̜̪͉̉̅͝h̸̤̖͇͓́̔͋̎b̸̟̲͛̈́͝r̸͈̈́e̴̩̯̭͈̒̑͊͗̾a̸͈̩̲͚̎͐͝ḱ̶̳̉̕͝ë̸̝͚̱̳r̵̻͚̋̈́̾͘,̷̟̥̪͖͂ ̴̡͎̭̥́S̴̩͚̉̓̄o̸̱̪̣͊̓̚n̵͈͈̰̤̖̆́ ̸̝́̽͗o̴̤̣͂̈f̸̡̠͓̗̂̚ ̸͉̪͌̀̕Ȏ̶̪̯̼̝̟͑r̶̡̲͂̏̂́d̴̦̏e̵̘̤͑r̶̼̗̉͛͜͝ͅ,̸̣̍̒̆̃ ̶̻̝͒̒͒F̵̫͎͔͋̽a̸̖͌t̸̛̬͍͍͉̗̉̃͋̃h̴̞̣͗̈́e̷̛̪͊͛͘r̵̙̟͋̽̀͘͝ ̵̣͕̺̍͑̑͊ő̵͎͎̝̱̹͂̓̂f̴̪̲̼̘̅̒͠ͅ ̷̨̖͕͓̎͆̒Ṱ̸͚̣͚̔͐͂͠͝e̴̢̧̠̅r̶̖̱̮̯̮̾̐̏̌r̷̗̻͗̓͆̀ó̵̭̼̟r̷̡̠͈̈́̓̾̒̕

As quietly as it had come the thing withdrew and the portal closed. Yet the chanting lingered for long seconds afterward, and the alter and the stones around it were now twisted like odd glass sculptures.

.

[Talon]

D A E M O N

He stared, stricken with utter horror and terror as the armor writhed with a wretched life of its own. He reared back when that eldritch entity appeared, huddling deeper into the circle of Aoren’s arms. His husband tightened his arms around him as a twisted chill swept across the world. The garbled words that were all too clear and yet incomprehensible at the same time, shook him to his core. He was left shivering in Aoren’s arms once that terrifying visage had receded from the world. It took a moment before he could collect himself. He looked at Avaerys. He looked at Varvara, wondering if they had seen what he had seen. Arcas looked at Florian. He saw anger and hate there. At first it stunned him…but then he saw what else was there. His shock turned to outrage. His outrage turned to raw anger. He stared at the look of betrayal that was in the young Lysanrin’s eyes and he could only feel an exorbitant amount of anger at the sight of it.

“Tyrant? Me? Me who has spent thousands of years, lifetime after lifetime giving EVERYTHING I am in sacrifice to the people of this world? Me? I, who has stood atop the ruins of the Godspire and beat back Madness and Plague? I, who has given his life to end the Plague of Souls Risen? I, who has bled for the people of Ransera and sacrificed my life to break the sorcery of the Blackwater Liches and rid the world of their taint? I, who has faced the Leviathan of the Lost Fathoms and spared the world from its bottomless hunger? You call ME a tyrant? You look upon me as a traitor? You dare after everything you have done?” He looked at Florian incredulously.

“Beloved--” Aoren began but Arcas stood up and supported himself. He stood on unsteady legs but he stood nevertheless.

“You stand there spitting curses and rage in my direction? Acting as though you have any idea what happened, what YOU had a hand in causing!? Your deeds, your actions, your reckless abandonment of any adherence to law or order, it has cost COUNTLESS lives! Do you have any idea what you, that bastard of a human Brenner Dornkirk and his demented brother have caused!?” He was glaring at Florian, utter rage sparking in his eyes.

“Look around you, Florian!” He gestured at the general state of the world around them. To the Eclipse in the skies. To the shadow spawn that were mere ashes in the wind at the moment. Though he knew not for how long that would last.

“I have spent my entire existence fighting to stop these catastrophes! Do you think of noone but yourself? Even after everything you have had a hand in causing, you still act as though you are entitled to some sort of outrage? Do you know whose company you stand in? Please, if you wish to begin measuring the sacrifices and pains you have suffered in your life, believe me, you stand in good company!” He jabbed a finger in Florian’s direction.

“You think yourself sorry for what you have done? I care not for your apologies! For your admissions, for they are nothing more than gilded platitudes woven to smother your own guilt!” He was practically shaking with absolute fury and anger.

“Were it not for you and your conspirators, Karnor never would have gone to war! Millions would not have been slaughtered for nothing! You know nothing of what was done! Nothing of the consequences!” He jabbed a finger at the space where that horrifying eldritch god had appeared at the Altar of Domination.

“They ripped every part of me from my very soul and turned me into a mindless husk with NO will of my own except to obey the emperor’s commands! They tortured me to the point of breaking and made me father the next generation of their warriors! Gods knows what else I was forced to do because I cannot even remember half of this nightmare! And all of it, every last second of it, was thanks to you and your conspirators in Zaichaer!” He was breathing heavily, glaring at Florian.

“Now you have the audacity to be furious because you have to deal with the consequences of the events you helped set in motion? Fuck you, Florian. You self-righteous little shit.” He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth in rage, jaw flexing as he managed to speak through his white-hot anger.

“Avaerys and Varvara are right. You are dangerously ignorant. Nobody forced you to be here, Florian. I asked. You came. I asked for your sacrifice, you gave it. By your own hand. You may have helped free me, but that does not free you from the truth that I was only a slave because you helped put me there.” He shook his head. Hesitantly, Aoren wrapped his arms around him and he sagged against his husband.

“You call yourself Rebellion? You are nothing more than petty spite and rage. A stupid, ignorant child masquerading as a noble cause. You care nothing about what happens to those caught in your web of destruction. Only that whatever is ensnared be destroyed.” His chest heaved as he vented all the anger that had built up inside of him. Aoren was rubbing his arms but there was a stilted stiffness to it. They could not find safe harbor here. They needed to leave. He turned to the twin gods.

“Imperator Avaerys. Imperatrix Varvara. You have my infinite apologies for the offense I have caused you. I…my will was not my own. It…it was…is…still so hard to think clearly. Even now, I…” He shook his head.

“If you ask it of me, I will help you rebuild your realm.” He rubbed his face and turned, walking away from all of them. From all of it. Over his shoulder he called to the twin gods.

“If you send for me, I will answer.”

[Pharaoh]

How stirring it was to rise from bondage to battle for Aværys, the erstwhile conqueror. Not only to claim His liberty, but to experience the true breadth of freedom one could only broach in the midst of battle. Therein instinct melded inscrutably with conscious thought and resurrected powers could be wielded as if by muscle memory. It was as if His physical form had only just ceased the Rending battle against Arcas, and suddenly They were fighting on his side.

Varvara charged with less relish, but greater awareness of that which transpired below. Even as the searing, silver light of Her scourge whipped through the forms of the shadow creatures, the lustre of Her gaze darted downward, eyes widening at what She beheld.

The demigods and dragons wove through the whirling mass of darkness with the practised efficiency of old wartime comrades, but the battle was all too brief, as Arcas wrought a brilliant blaze that set many of their opponents shrieking as their darkness disintegrated into the light of Dawnfire.

"Efficacious..." Aværys observed, "Albeit not much fun."

The Solunarian Founders descended from the skies, and the Atraxian dragons returned to their perches across from the platform on which the rest of them stood. Arcas would see at a glance that Varvara had seen the presence that reclaimed the armour. She stared at the now-empty altar, relieved. Though She'd been keen to examine the item prior, She now considered its absence to be a good riddance in the aftermath of regarding that fell interloper.

"Beloved." Aværys' voice drew Her attentions to His dashing smile, and the Two embraced now that They had a moment of freedom with little in the way of distraction. Until the Lightbringer addressed Rebellion. At first his tone was more interesting than the content of his speech, which began as a rattling off of his deific resume. It all seemed rather self-important, reminding them of the Arcas They'd known and against whom they'd vied. Thus, the Twins were about to turn Their attentions back inward, but then the foreign dragon attempted to interject and the Founders, arms slung about one another, turned Their attentions toward the orator as he launched into a proper diatribe.

"Oh, how I've missed the theatre..." Aværys whispered through His smirk, as He watched both the verbal assailant and the verbally assailed.

"Well, we've an actor in the family, now..." Varvara observed wryly.

Varvara nodded firmly at Arcas' characterisation of Rebellion as an aimless chaos agent. To Her mind it was no mere coincidence that such the mantle of Rebellion had remained absent from the pantheon for so long. She and Her Brother had been rebels themselves, for a time, but revolution was ephemeral and erratic by nature. It was meant to be a transition, not an endgame. That was among the reasons She was inclined to demand this sacred Sacrifice. But that was a matter for another time and place.

They inclined Their heads in acknowledgement of the Lightbringer's regrets.

"It is clear to Us now that thine armour was a passing potent thing that did dominate thy wits. We would fain consider the matter closed."

"With Our covenant complete, thou art no longer forbidden from Our realms. We will return to Solunarium anon..."

"Næ, brother. Hie Thee hence to the capital, but there are beacons to the Northwest that do call unto Me. The sacrificial fruit of these realms is ripe and too long unplucked. I must in Ailizane remain."

Aværys smiled wanly,

"Sic Domina imperat." He offered with a light kiss.

"Deus Vult." She answered as it broke.

"I shall take a page from Thy tome, Sister..." Aværys noted as He began to levitate away from Her, "I shall return in shadow and observe for a time ere I make My presence known. Be quick about Thy work and return to Me anon." He cast a wink to Arcas, "Fare thee well, my quondam foe!" And into the skies He ascended.

Varvara looked to Florian and pursed Her lips.

"Thou'rt in need of education. There will come a day when I will have want of thee ere long." But it seemed that day was not today, "We shall remember this, Arcas, and We shall meet again in this realm or another." And with that, She seemed to fade into transparency and then She was gone.

Zalkyriax snorted smoke and snarled at Arcas, before glancing to his siblings on either side.

"Venite igitur." He growled, before launching into the air and leading the other dragons on a descent toward The Temple of the Radiant Rending that sat at the foot of the volcano.

[Pharaoh]

R E V I E W

Talon
Lores: 8
XP: 20 (May be used toward magic)

Florian
Lores: 8
XP: 15 (No magic.)

Injuries/Ailments:
Florian: Self-inflicted sacrificial wound/chains of domination in bloodstream (Lasting effects TBD)
Talon: Wounds inflicted by the forced removal of the evil armour that has been subjugating him
Everyone: Freaked out by Mirage's bomb

Loot:
3 out of four gods are leaving this scene freer than they started it. Florian is not.

Notes: Very epic stuffs! This was a paradigm-shifting thread and the culmination of a lot of plotting for all of us. I'm giving Talon a bonus 5 kudos xp for his closing diatribe.