Economies of Scale II

[Hector]

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Al’Kassis had only recently acquired the ability to manifest in a guise similar to mortals, having willed his miasma into a shape that was, anatomically, a copy of a Hytori– given his bond to Hector, this was what was most familiar to him. But that did not mean the features thereof weren’t markedly alien. Speaking, for one, was an oddly cumbersome act, though the more he did it, the more his voice would sound like a single man’s, low in timbre, than the cacophonous chorus it was normally.

The spirit would bring one hand across his chest and the other to his chin in consideration of what Imogen had said regarding a hydra’s Gallstone. A not so insignificant part of him wondered how much power he’d gain if given the opportunity to feed off of something like that ‘till it did finally die– but realism notwithstanding, they were, unfortunately, tasked with not killing the thing.

When Imogen mentioned the deliverance of a ‘comprehensive killing blow,’ they all gave the Orkhan a look of varying shades of quizzical and intrigued, though all three held little doubt, it was more that they weren’t quite sure what she had in mind.

Speaking of the Gallstone, however, Vergil realized something worth noting. “Three of the four of us can effectively use the Gallstone against it; Hector, Al’Kassis and I can all harvest the beast's vitality for ourselves."

Hector would follow that, "...further, I, at least, can sustain my hold on it through, er…its suffering? I'm not sure why, but…a while back I noticed I can harvest aether from creatures in pain the same way I can harvest vitality through blood magic. And much like bigger creatures carrying more blood, size equates to more aether in that case, too." Being utilized primarily as an interrogator in the Imperium might've played a role in the development of this particular quirk.

"...and one last thing! Formidable as you are by default, Imogen, I can grant you, if temporarily, a portion of a vampire's power. It's…kind of similar to Scrivening? I can give you a Brand- draw a sigil in my blood- upon your hand, and with a flex of aether, confer onto you heighted senses and greater strength," the elven vampyr offered.

If she would accept, he'd do exactly that– the mark being similar in design to his Vitalis rune. Vergil would begin the process of creating the bait whilst Hector deferred for a moment to draw the sigil onto her, joining him after the fact. If she declined, the pair would begin crafting the bait together.

The process that would be utilized to make what was, ostensibly, a very large teratoma was…notably grotesque. The nails on Vergil's hands would sharpen into claws and he'd, at first, excise a chunk of flesh from his arm that was about the size of a marble, regenerating what he'd removed right away. Given the fact that it takes a moment for flesh to actually die, there would be a snapshot of time he could freely form it however he pleased. When Hector joined him, he would start in a markedly similar fashion, and keeping the flesh suspended in the air, they'd then combine that which they'd excised. Both invoking rapid growth at once, the flesh from each wove 'round one another until it resembled a singular mass. Bone shards, muscle, skin, hair and all sorts of anatomical anomalies would grow rapidly until the teratoma was similar in dimension to a medium sized dog. It was abominable, but there was no point in wasting both time and energy in aesthetics, here.

Upon Imogen’s indication that she was ready, the two of them would throw the mass of meat into the water; given that there was very little care to give the thing a proper dermis, it would actively seep blood into the water on contact, further alerting the hydra to its presence.

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Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

The pair might have been concerned that finally saying the word "vampyre" to Imogen might set her off; no such thing occured. Nevertheless, she shook her head.

"Thanks for the offer, but better not to heighten my senses just now. Some things, it's more important that you do comfortably than you do well."

It was a mysterious objection, but the witch was apparently serious about it. (She also tucked away Hector's earnest explanation of his own abilities for later consideration- that was the first thing the pair had revealed which troubled her at all.)

"Restrain it however you can, but be careful not to kill it, or we'll have to content ourselves with hides and meat rather than the sorceress' payment."

With that, Imogen set about finding a vantage point where she could see the whole lake. As mountain lakes went, this one was pretty but not inspiring; unexpectedly deep, but devoid of dramatic rock features or the free-flowing waterfalls which made some points in the mountains famous. Actually, given the stillness of the water, it was surprisingly clear. Perhaps the hydra helped clean the water, somehow? If, as the Kindred mage's books had intimated, Hydra were constantly consuming biomass, algae might be a low-effort snack.

The witch waved to her companions, who were just finishing the truly gruesome process of crafting some manner of flesh golem. Alas, the witch could hardly object to magic on points of aesthetic alone. Animus was, after all, no prettier a sight.

The little monstrosity was heaved into the lake, and a pool of red began to expand outward from it. The blood seeped through the crystalline water like rust spreading across a breastplate; crazed tendrils, moving with such slow and inexorable progress that it almost seemed graceful.

The process was not swift. As Imogen's scrying a few minutes past had revealed, the beast was sleeping soundly in its den, and Hydra, though voracious, do not wake easily. Still, as one might wake a pet with the smell of a treat, the thickening scent of blood upon the water slowly drew the slumbering monster from Nod. They waited for perhaps ten minutes, all told, while the little homunculus poured questing tendrils of Vitalis out into the lake.

All of this stillness was broken by a sudden rush as the first of the great beast's heads broke the water, snapping up the vampyre's creation almost before the droplets had time to finish flying. It was fast for such a huge and old thing, striking like a snake, but its head was elephantine in proportion. That snap could have taken Imogen, Vergil or Hector in a single second. Hell, it might have been able to eat every last one of them at once.

Such size was precisely Imogen's main concern. She was strong--with Animus, preternaturally so, and fast--and skilled enough to challenge opponents much larger than herself. Were this an ogre, or perhaps one of the fabled cyclopes of the southern deserts, she would have had no hesitation in testing her sword against it. But the disparity of scale here was too much. Even if her blade tore through its scales like tissue, the cuts would have healed before she could have severed the damn thing.

Well, that's if she had one sword, anyway.

~~~

Imogen waited patiently as the spirit Al’Kassis engaged the woken hydra, watching for the moment when it was sufficiently extended from the lake to strike. It would have been a frustrating wait, once, but her time in the southern jungle mastering the art of self-mastery had been fruitful. She was calm, like the water had been before the hydra surfaced. Cool. Deliberate. Dependable. De-

There it was. The hydra moved to strike, once again, baffled by the smoke of its opponent, and leaned too far from the water. Two other heads were close to the surface now, watching the battle up above, plainly waiting for their own chance to attack. But they waited too long. Imogen Ward had always been quite critical of those who held back their most effective weapons until late in battle, and she was no hypocrite herself.

The Sunsinger clutched her great sword and brought its tip gently to ground, letting her mind caress the surface of her oldest pact weapon. Her soul flowed over and through it, her skin pricked against the cold steel and worn leather of the hilt. She inhaled deeply, letting the tangy scent of her will-forged steel, warmed by angry fire, rush over her. She knew the weapon like the back of her hand, but she still took several moments to do nothing but focus each of her senses on it, to let a perfect image linger.

Even that was not easy. It was almost comical, really. In the myths, Eikean was said to have willed the world into being, cut it from the firmament in a single stroke. Aedrin, it was said, had raised up mountains and cast plains to become seas with a single word, laughed whole races into being. Imogen had spent ten years training intensively to will a single length of metal into material being. A single sword, a simple shape!

That sentiment made an appropriate incantation. The Ork said, softly: "I cannot bring a world quite round, although I patch it as I can..."

Because the thing was, although she could not create things more complex than swords, she could create a lot of swords.

~~~

As the hydra lunged forward to strike at the spirit, the sky darkened. The great beast did not look up, focused as it was on the elf-shaped smoke it sought to devour. If it had done so, it would have had only a moment to process Imogen's attack.

Hundreds of swords, each seven feet from end to end, dropped from the sky and into the hydra's neck. They did not fall at once, but like a stream of metal, hitting the monster like a waterfall. Had they simply tumbled, end-over-end into the creature's armored back, perhaps it would have suffered only sprains and bruises; but no, the cloud of swords darted as they fell, the tips actively seeking out weaknesses in the monster's armor. They slammed into the monster's head, neck and back with visceral impacts, each burying itself several feet into flesh.

The attack smashed the hydra's first head to the ground, as though it had been hit by the fist of an angry titan. The sudden impact and shock drew forth the hydra's other two heads, each seeking the source of the sudden blow- which was a fatal error. The next stream of swords came from the west, tearing a man-sized hole through the hydra's second brain and pinning the organ to the side of a copse of trees.

This led to Imogen's third strike, which erupted out of the lake itself, swords launching like missiles into the exposed throat of the final head. The beast shook, dark and oddly verdigris blood welling up from hundreds of wounds.

As Imogen had promised, the sudden attack should have slain the creature outright- one head crushed, one's brains torn out, one throat opened up like a carcass in a butcher's shop. But this was a hydra, and as the three expected, the fatal wounds immediately began to close, even as the beast's body collapsed across half the shoreline of the lake. It seemed they had little time before it would get up again, fit as ever.

[Hector]

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It would forever be a nigh to novel concept whenever either man was capable of speaking candidly regarding their vampirism. Despite the Imperium’s handwaiving thereof, the greater public were as yet supposed to be entirely ignorant to the concept, vampyres and their ilk relegated to naught more than spooky bedtime stories and heretical legends. Even with other Inquisitors, there were only a few individuals cleared to know. Maybe more than a little precarious, considering Hector’s incessant need to make use of his magic…but the boy was warded and he had, at least, come up with many a little lie to excuse anything he did deign cast.

So if he could offer openly the use of his magics? He would. Imogen’s declination thereof he’d respond to with a nod, slightly disappointed and a bit perplexed by the explanation, but there really was nothing to say to it– she was direct and succinct, however nebulous it was.

They’d all acknowledge Imogen’s last warning about keeping the beast alive, the two vampyres thus beginning their fleshcraft as the Orkhan took her leave. Whence the mid-size abomination had reached completion and was thrown into the water, Al’Kassis would walk languidly to the water’s edge as the tell-tale crimson of blood began to crawl just beneath the surface. His expression, for all an observer could tell, was incredulous bordering upon blankness. Expressing much at all did not come naturally, supernal as he was.

The blood seeping from the mass appealed to him as much as it did the hydra, in a way that struck him as particularly strange. To their quarry, the meat would be not unlike the spark of Hector’s aether when the boy had, a few years prior, stuck his head into the eldritch realm where Al'Kassis had been tragically banished; where his existence, his very identity, had eroded and crumbled to dust. All manner of predator would've seen the density of the boy's aether on top of his mortal youth– a particularly delectable snack. It was a blessing for both that Al'Kassis been the one to latch on and answer the boy's Summon. Had a more apex predator bit that bait, Al'Kassis would still be but a pathetic echo of his potential and Hector, in all likelihood, would be dead. Hector's naïveté would prove further a blessing for them both with regard to the drafting of and agreement to such a permanent contract– most Summoners of any competence would've looked at that paltry shade and laughed.

Al'Kassis, however, was ancient and far more than he appeared then. A leech by nature, that much was far from new…but through Hector's continuous Investiture of his various Vitalis skills, the spirit eventually inherited a similar sanguine hunger to that of a vampyr; his own desires shifted from purely power to a mix of both the former and now, taste. That abominable fleshcraft would be as tantalizing to that hydra as the boy's aether was to many a shade– and Al'Kassis, drawn to both, was served a stark reminder of how vulnerable hunger could make you.

Unfortunately, the time to wax pensive and ponder his past and present predilections was a luxury Al'Kassis did not, for the nonce, have. Through the water's uncanny crystal clarity and from where he stood, he would have the clearest view of the hydra's approach. However, he wouldn't offer much warning, at least, not directly; the second his eyes (possessing greater vision than nigh to all mortals) clapped onto the movement of the behemoth lurking in the depths, the shadows at his feet would begin to expand in tandem to most of his body beginning to evaporate into a thick, shadowy mist; it was as viscous as such a substance could be before shifting states of matter from airborne to liquid– his elven shape would remain insofar as from the bust upwards, using that marble-white mortal silhouette as the primary lure for the beast’s attentions.

In the same breath that the beast broke the water's surface and snapped up their little snack, Al'Kassis had left the land and ascended high above, an expanse of black being the first thing the hydra would see. He'd envelop as much of their quarry in darkness as he could- the heads would snap both out and back in- and the observers on the shore would see shapes begin to form and unform within those roiling shadows; monstrous sights, creatures one might only expect to find in dreadmists– or would they?

Nevertheless, those visions, tricks or no, caused the hydra immense confusion; the beast saw as much prey in those shadows as it did tangible threats. Further adding to its confusion, it would hear both within and without that cloud of darkness at once due to the positioning of its multiple heads. Even to a beast this formidable, the cacophony of noise the spirit would impose within its body of night and the sound natural to material realm would, at minimum, border upon overwhelming and, at worst, push the monster in the direction of sensorial overload.

Further back stood the vampyres, static in place, in awe of the beast’s giant majesty; each head elephantine, their foe was formidable, indeed. The two of them had seen a lot, and while the creature wasn’t a twisted abomination from the mists, it was more intimidating than anything they’d thus far come across by sheer magnitude of size alone. They would wait with bated breath for Imogen to make her move– whatever it would be.

~~~

Immaterial as the spirit ultimately was, Al’Kassis wasn’t quite sure to what degree Imogen’s magics would affect him. The dark domain he’d created by way of Nightfall was entirely composed of his miasma, his body aetherial, and while he made haste in his recession in effort to heed the witch’s advice, he wasn’t quite fast enough. Magic rippled above him and those radiant, floating swords began to materialize– the brilliance of their fall being truly a sight to behold. The spirit’s entire essence would bloom with a novel agony he couldn’t quite recall ever feeling in the past, and incandescent as it burned, his injuries were ultimately negligible; only the final remnants of his essence had been caught in the blades’ descent.

Linked though Al’Kassis was to Hector, this created a unique interaction with his quirk; the two of them had not gone through the process of Revelation and were, as yet, still separate entities– aether bled from the spirit’s suffering and into the Summoner, electric and brilliant…but that would not be the extent to which the boy would be amplified.

Once the swords began to fall, more and more blinked into existence, metal aglow with magic, and all would drop from the sky in what one could only compare to a cascade of crashing water. In further ode to the mastery of Imogen Ward, these enchanted blades fell with intent; each sought a weak point, and yet at the same time, avoided would-be fatal blows. Luminous blades would pierce the body, then each head in separate, calculated clouds of metal, rending flesh, rendering it pinned, weak– for the moment, for these swords, as strong as they were, were ephemeral.

Imogen’s task to weaken the beast had been completed, and further, the anguish caused by the unique impact of each blade would resonate outward; Hector started to channel his modified Harvest to absorb the aether generated from every blow. What he’d gain from both his Aidolon’s pain and the sheer magnitude of the torment the hydra had just endured was almost blinding.

~~~

When first the blades fell, Hector had run forward to get a better view, and upon reaching the water’s edge, he’d stop– Vergil would follow him, but when the boy closed his eyes and his veins began to glow, the older vampyr’s normally stoic expression would crack– golden eyes widening as if surprised; he’d not seen this effect before; but then…neither had Hector. An odd, galvanizing tension would build in the air surrounding the elf, and as the ambient aether increased, sparks of magic would begin to flicker alongside the conjuration of a preternatural zephyr. As Imogen’s assault proceeded, the boy’s blood would glow ever brighter, shining effulgent, alight with color, veiled only by the fragility of flesh, and when he'd open his eyes, their usual lavender was accompanied by a similarly chromatic cast.

For the first time in a very long time, Vergil stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Hector was alight, boldly standing at the precipice of his limits. It was an enthralling experience, and were his will a little weaker, he might’ve been rendered inert, bewitched and unable to move ‘til the burning licks of the aether within destroyed him– but no, he was eager and wild; Hector was utterly delighted at the opportunity to wield this much aether and solely determined to do so. Alas, he couldn’t use it to feast upon the hydra, much as he wanted to.

It was then that he would enact Reminiscence, pooling his aether with Al’Kassis– for the spirit, it was sweet relief. The flood of that which Hector absorbed, even that which he’d generated from the shade’s own suffering, more than made up for the misery he’d just endured. Spirit and Summoner working in true tandem, Hector would make the hydra his sole focus, using the mammoth amount of aether he’d collect to infuse every bone, every muscle the hydra possessed with his will– and though this feat would seem comical to even suggest normally, he succeeded; the hydra was now his puppet. For his part, Al’Kassis would compress his body, weaving himself around what remained of Imogen’s aetherial swords and soon, the spirit’s body, his aether, would seep into the wounds of the beast. Converting himself entirely into a miasmatic form, he’d flow through the blood of the beast like a parasite until encountering the Gallstone, at which point he’d then enshroud the organ, enacting his ability to leech vitality in turn– but not enough to kill it.

Like this, Hector and Al’Kassis would continuously generate the aether and vitality it required to maintain control over the beast. Through its further suffering, the boy would gain. Through the bridge he’d created between them, that which Al’Kassis absorbed would be shared. As for the hydra, the shade would allow for the Gallstone to grant the beast enough regeneration to stabilize, but not strengthen. It wouldn’t be able to regain its ferocity nor heal what heads were destroyed, or, for the sake of Hector's aether generation, the majority of its superficial flesh wounds. This was markedly temporary; while it could be maintained indefinitely by nature of the peculiarities of the Summoner and the spirit’s siphoning, these effects would immediately dissipate should either relent in their casting. However, for their purposes, it ought to do. The hydra could be delivered in this state.

Wary about overwhelming himself, Hector would maintain control as he was. If, however, he did need more aether, he'd employ an additional cast: he'd Inflame the beast and its wounds would burn anew alongside a steep drop in its ability to create endorphins to ward it off.

Actively spending and regenerating aether, the elf was still aglow– but less so than before. Vergil stood there awestruck– but still did he filter it, only slightly widened eyes and parted lips betraying how he felt. He’d been holding his own aether, concerned that even if they were to succeed, if all three of them were spent, how would they actually transport the hydra? …and yet at the same time, how much could Vergil do? He was strong, capable, and certainly the Inquisition had beaten everything they knew about Traversion into him upon his acquisition thereof, but the idea of crafting a portal big enough for this beast was still…daunting.

Imogen’s vantage point was not incredibly far away, but still, Vergil would move to stand about halfway between Hector and the witch.

“Have you any strength left?” he’d call out to her. “Hector…his sole focus is the hydra. I’ve…not a clue how long he can maintain this, or even- I admit- what he’s doing. Is it up to me alone to make the portal?” There was urgency to his words and uncharacteristic pauses betraying his bewilderment, but his voice was level, his words still calm.

Hector, while presently rooted in place, could will the hydra and himself to move if necessary; any shift to his focus carried mild risk, so for now, he'd stand silent and still. Through an odd combination of the sheer bliss of wielding aether like this, the indecipherable beauty of the hydra's woe, and his deep respect for arcane potency, the young vampyre found the determination to temper a far more disciplined control of his casting than most might think him capable of.

But Vergil would nod to the Sunsinger, a reassuring smile on his face. “If I must, I’ll break myself to create the Railway. After all– we’ve gone this far; best not waste it.” Stubborn as he was resilient, once Vergil set his mind on a project, he was resolute about seeing it through to the end.

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Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

Imogen watched as the youth's spell snared the hydra with clinical detachment. It was more than a little concerning, of course. Hector's expenditure of aether must have been phenomenal to capture such a mighty beast's body, wounded though it was. Still, she'd been taught quite specifically not to get distracted by an ally's capabilities while danger yet remained, and remain here it did.

Nevertheless, she startled a bit as Vergil called out to her. She jogged towards the older witch at an easy pace, still watching the twitching body of the vast serpent.

"I'm quite fine." Imogen sounded a bit breathless, and there was a shiny patina of sweat across her exposed skin- but her voice was calm and strong. "We can forge a portal of sufficient width together... I, uh, hope. One matter of business to attend to first, though."

The witch turned from Vergil without further explanation and strode towards the closet of the hydra heads. Reaching it, she was forced to climb up the side, carefully using scales like hand and foot-holds, until she reached its eyeball. The Orkhan warrior levered her flaming sword between the eyelid and messily cut the organ out, the beast's neck and head spasming erratically even under Hector's control as Imogen removed the eye. Even as she forced it out, Vergil could see that the flesh behind was beginning to coagulate. It seemed that blocking the Hydra's gallstone only counted for so much.

Imogen hefted the eyeball--easily the size of her own torso--in one arm and slid down to the ground, where she cut a portal into slipspace open with her sword and unceremoniously dumped her prize in.

"Wouldn't like to see an opportunity like that go to waste." Imogen confided to Vergil as she rejoined him. "Let's get to work on that gate, shall we?"

~~~

It was a lucky thing that the pair had just practiced working together, because it turned out that their ideas of Traversion varied extensively. Imogen Ward, it seemed, conceptualized the matter as simply tearing apart the veil to Slipspace and walking in; an approach eminently suitable for a warrior who largely just wanted to move herself about, but difficult to expand upon. Still, the two were eventually able to concoct a mutually intelligible framework for the purposes of an enormous Railway, and began work.

While they did, Imogen decided to regale Vergil with a little more shop talk: "Reaving as a discipline has a very slanted reputation. Most of the old stories are still about the Dawnmartyrs before the purge, and they tended to be extraordinary mages, not to mention blessed by their god. The Sunsingers, on average, are good, but I doubt we're a match for the heroes of the myths. The Synnekar nobles and Kathar of Gel'G... well, I'm sure the best of the best are impressive, but most practitioners never manage to sustain more than a few duplicates at once. And with Reavers, that tends to be how you're measured. A novice makes one weapon; then tries to maintain two, to dance with three, and they clap you on the back and call you ready when you can work with a few dozen over the course of a battle."

The Sunsinger sighed, adjusting her hands as she continued to bend the Slipspace in complement with Vergil's own magic. "As you've seen, I can make a lot of duplicates, and it's a good technique as long as you've got a lot of space to work with. But I keep wondering... where can I go from there? At some point, just adding swords feels a little like pissing into the rain.

"I can't help but feel that just one sword would be enough to fairly battle anything at all, if I could just understand the how."

~~~

Though it was no easy task, the two mages eventually finished their great portal as Hector continued in his strange trance. As they went to signal the young witch to move the Hydra, however...

Great screams, like combinations of roars and caterwauls, outraged yowls echoed from behind the mountain lake. As the three witches observed, not one or two, but three[/i] hydra were pushing their way towards the trio. Not one of these serpents was a match for the paralyzed hydra's great size, but they were still each larger than elephants, and moving with surprising speed. It seemed that hydra broods felt some sort of familial loyalty after all.

"That's terrible timing." Imogen remarked, sounding a little pained. Two novel works of Traversion and that much materialization were beginning to wear her a bit thin. "Hector, can you get that thing in, please?"

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
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The aether still burned like fire through Hector’s veins– the sensation was delicious; instead of immolation, however, he felt almost drunk on the power provided by the hydra’s immense pain. But as he stood like this, blackened blood began to drip from his major orifices– his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Maintaining this was clearly taking a toll on the little vampyr, though he did nothing to break his trance, full well knowing that would foil all of their work thus far.

Vergil was relieved to hear that Imogen was relatively fine considering the aether required to make manifest all of those swords. Given the fact that he had yet to actually achieve mastery over his Traversion, this would be a tall ask for him to attempt on his own. Even with the rigorous study he’s put into the rune, his experience with wielding it simply hasn’t ever gone anywhere near anything like this.

But before they went to work on that, Imogen asked him to hold and started off, apparently intent on climbing one of the heads. He blinked, a bit confused, not exactly sure what purpose this served, but it did make him think. A hydra’s leather was an incredibly valuable resource, and here he’d found one. Looking at Hector, he realized he didn’t have much time to waste, but…to forgo this opportunity would be a mistake.

The process he’d use to acquire some of the hide required some quick thinking because it was complicated, but it’d work. Grabbing hold of his polearm, he approached the neck of the head that’d been impaled into the ground– it was the one moving the least. Without the hold that Al’Kassis had over the Gallstone, any wounds he created would clear themselves in seconds– but though this helped, the Gallstone still wasn’t wholly disabled, so all of his actions would still be on a time limit.

Pulling off one of his gloves and putting it into the bag he carried, his first move was to cut the palm of his hand. As quick as he could, he’d cut the outline of a rather large rectangle, the length of the neck itself, into the beast’s flesh. All the while he cut, he’d been dragging the open wound on his hand along the flesh of the beast, having suspended his own body’s ability to coagulate. His blood would appear to wick inside of the monster as he went, and through thaumaturgy, he’d hold back the monster’s blood from being able to flow freely, thus preventing fresh vitality from flowing to the flesh he’d sectioned as best he could. Further, he’d then crystalize his own blood mixed with the creature’s into a solid block of crystalized blood directly beneath the dermis and the exact dimensions of the wound he'd cut, thus forcing the hydra's flesh off and onto the ground.

This was a two pronged move, the second of which being that he’d also suffused the skin itself with his vitale in an effort to keep it preserved long enough to get his hands on the proper materials upon his return. Because of this, he could also manipulate the flesh from the blood within, and with that, he’d roll it as tightly as he could without squeezing out his preternatural vitality. With the skin extracted, he’d rip open a portal long enough to throw it in; this was the bare minimum required to fit the sectioned hide, and it'd snap closed as soon as this process completed. Lastly, he'd siphon enough blood from the beast itself to restore what he'd shed.

To what she expressed about not wasting the opportunity and progressing with the portal, “...yes to both sentiments,” he’d respond with a nod.

~~~

Vergil started this process as soon as the thought had hit him, which was shortly after Imogen began her climb. It did take slightly longer than her excision of the eye, but not incredibly so; he wondered for what purpose she wanted to use the eye, of all things. But with his quarry contained, he’d reconnect with her to create the portal.

The vampyr’s use of Traversion was starkly different from that of Imogen, nigh incompatible, but both of them were adaptive individuals able to think on their feet. Imogen’s approach was direct and almost aggressive; Vergil’s was far more careful. He’d conceptualize the distance between the two points, weaving aether into the origin and threading it through to the destination. Then, he'd sharply pull it back with a pulse of aether– effectively stitching the two points together. The potency required varied by distance; this would bind the points at whatever location he’d picked, a tiny pinprick of a portal which he’d then expand by feeding it aether until it was of requisite size. Many…compromises…to this process had to be made, but in the end, they succeeded with a truly gargantuan portal.

While they wove their aether together, Imogen was not one to work in silence. Vergil didn’t mind, to be fair; what she said was interesting, at least. He knew of Reaving, and the basic tenets of it– but she was right; most of what was written down on the subject concerned the Dawnmartyrs and their uses of it. While he knew quite a bit more due to working with all of the witch covens, which included the Sunsingers, he was still no practitioner thereof; his knowledge only consisted of things that he'd heard in passing. Since relocating to the Imperium, he’d been increasingly exposed to the Kathar, too. His expertise had him healing quite a few of their injuries. Much as he found the idea of their collars to be unpleasant ethically, it wasn’t his place to question because in those moments, he was nothing more than a chirurgeon with a job to do.

He’d stifle a laugh at the way she described the idea of isolating her magics to only creating more swords. “I’m no Reaver…but I relate to the desire to push boundaries with one’s magic. I still work as a healer, and I often wonder what more I can do. I want people to leave my care pristine, and should they wish it, better than before. There’s a lot I can do in that regard, but I always find myself wondering where I can go, too. But to your point about bladework,” he’d pause, as if considering his words.

“Perhaps explore the realm of symbiosis? The degree to which you can put yourself into your blades,” he’d stop, then exhale a breath of a laugh through his nose. “You consider bridging your Reaving with your Animus? Bladed beasts sounds novel, doesn’t it?”

The suggestion was a weird one that would definitely come across as ridiculous to more stringent academics, but Vergil watched Hector’s magic get ever the more bizarre as seasons continued to pass and he was determined to push his own– in his head, certainly other masters with sufficient creativity and drive could do the same.

~~~

With the portal finally forged, Vergil’s head was starting to spin, but they’d succeeded. Upon their signal to Hector, a cacophony of wild animal screeches was what they heard in response. It was immediately obvious upon looking at Hector that these sounds were not from him, even more so when the ground began to shake and the boy was as yet standing still. Imogen’s words caused the unmoving elf to blink, a sudden urgency surfacing on his previously placid features.

Keeping his eyes on the hydra he’d enthralled, the boy would walk backwards as fast as he could manage into the remarkably large portal. He endeavored to keep his focus solely on the beast, but there were threads of worry– Vergil didn’t pass through with him. The older vampyr intended to enter after both Hector and their quarry, in an effort to ensure their safe passage. To Hector’s chagrin, he could no longer really side through to the other side of the portal once he’d drawn the beast into the Midden after him. Nervously, he stood waiting for both of his companions to pass through the massive Railway– but he wasn’t alone.

There was somebody- two people, in fact- as promised, waiting at the rendezvous point; two whom Hector’d never seen before– they called out to the boy, stating their affiliation with the relevant sorceress. Part of him didn’t want to let go, but he knew full well this wasn’t sustainable on top of the fact that this hydra wasn’t his to keep; Al’Kassis mirrored his reluctance but was prepared to relinquish his part of their tandem control on Hector’s command.

One person present was a rather large fellow, over a foot taller than Hector and the other was an older woman. They said their names- Lucious and Annabell; at least rhe boy remembered those names from when Lyra had explained what to expect. It wasn’t entirely clear how either odd stranger would bind the creature, but they’d appear to activate magic held within a staff– the item looked to carry the pictographs usually associated with Necromancy’s Remembered Artefacts, but Hector, rudimentary as his knowledge was, couldn’t quite tell. As the staff crackled with aether, the elf would find that the effort required to hold onto the hydra decreased dramatically. When the strangers signaled that they could let go, the Summoner and spirit would do so.

They would, bittersweet as it was– but the relief soon gave way to exhaustion, Hector collapsing as soon as his casts broke; from within the hydra his Aidolon would emerge, immediately returning to his Summoner’s side in an attempt to aid him.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

"Poor beasts." Imogen murmured as she watched the younger hydras approach, "But lucky, too. Doubtless they'll survive today."

While Hector passed quickly through the Railway, the hydra itself took longer. Even though Vergil and her had stretched their spell to the breaking point, the Hydra's bulk nearly filled the entire passage through slipspace, and it slithered very slowly given the cramped area. The whole affair could, undoubtedly, take a few minutes- and she had to help hold the damn portal open. Probably not the best option to try to unleash her Arsenal again just now.

But if the high-energy technique was a bad plan, what about a far more miniscule expenditure?

"Mr. Vergil, I've had a notion. Don't look this way, please."

With that, Imogen materialized her Pact staff and the huge dawnstone upon it. She raised the weapon high above her head and tossed it at the approaching monsters- it sailed towards them, spinning end-over-end, until it stopped just above their beady black eyes.

Then Imogen released all of the aether from the stone, all at once.

~~~

As Hector continued to squeeze the hydra through the hole, there was a flash from beyond- visible only as a muffled light through the gaps between the hydra's scales and the sides of the Railway portal. Moments after the hydra finally cleared the opening, Imogen and Vergil followed, Imogen still rubbing at her eyes. As soon as they cleared the gap, a smaller hydra's head burst through after them. Still half-blinded, Imogen took up her sword and chopped the head off with a single, clean slice, then she slammed her sword into the outer edge of the Railway portal, destabilizing the careful magic she and Vergil had worked in an instant.

The resulting portal implosion was, thankfully, surprisingly contained, hitting neither Imogen nor Vergil, but it was impossible not to wonder if the hydra on the other side had been swept into slipspace. Perhaps at least one of the beasts would not survive this day. Maybe it would wish it had died.

"Hooo." Imogen let out a breath, relief coursing through her in the darkness, and especially now that she could release the portal, "Well, that wasn't as bad as Luis made it out to be."

The Sunsinger stumbled over to Hector's side, still blinking a bit as she tried to resolve the world through her fuzzy vision. "They've got it, then? Well done, Hector. You've got my address; we'll get in touch about the payment once Ms. Lyra has decided whether this big nasty bastard qualifies, I imagine."

Imogen didn't make any threats about what might happen if someone tried to withhold payment or take all of it themselves- that would be deeply insulting and unprofessional besides. Anyway, Vergil, at least, was a proper Coven witch, and would know exactly what happened if you chose to cheat one of the Sunsingers.

"Really neat job, you two. Very clean work." It was probably the highest praise Imogen Ward ever gave.