Post by Joliette Thorne on Jun 5, 2006 17:35:21 GMT -5
Raejin enters the tavern, flinging the door open. His face is red and sweaty from exertion, and his entire chest heaves for air. He wheels about, and points his pick axe towards the open door, his face a mask of desperation and determination. The pickaxe hums, before releasing a spiralling bolt of flames that scorch the door frame as they explode outside. Raejin then slams the door closed, backing away to the center of the room, his teeth bared.
Tenebrae had wandered in not moments before, and the impetus of Reajin's entry had her taking several hurried steps backward toward the bar, peridot eyes widened and the lashing shadows that masqueraded as her cloak shifting in sinuous readiness. "Gods, man, how to give a body a fright!" The exclamation more for herself than he, really, as she wrinkled her nose against the stink of burning wood.Daenari did not move or blink or even seem to breathe at all as she simply stared out at nothingness, surrendering not for the first time to internal processes proving all too overwhelming for the mind of the dryad. Drawn even inward upon herself like some never-ending narcissus, she might have seemed reposed. Even the sudden arrival of several patrons, as well as some to do with one such entry, was not enough to shake her from the reverie, leaving her an island amidst many other islands with no bridge to span the distance. Too many were sleeping then, and as she spiraled, she joined in their slumber and became part of the single-mindedness that they had all become.
Raejin jerks his head in Tenebrae's direction. "What...?" Raejin then looks about, taking in his surroundings. "The tavern...it chased this far...." Raejin's concentration and adrenaline is renewed as a sharp crunching sound is heard upon the sides of the tavern. It continues rapidly up to the roof, and stops ominously. Raejin stares up, his pick axe waxing and waning with power.
Daenari floated in the current existing void of thought that was the sleeping Sister, as she had come to call it. However, there was a consciousness that spoke with voices too soft and too few. They spoke of waking and of living and of learning, because there was nothing else for them or for her. Waiting, then, she was reminded of her calling and of the urgency with which she had been sent, but always to return. Some said exile, but she knew better, and felt the pull even now of those that lingered in twilight for her to come back. Blue hues were curtained with the falling of feathery lashes as she blinked and returned to the tavern and to the physical present. Returning sensation was greeted with the sound of something...creeping...and she glanced about with widened eyes before realizing the new patrons.
Tenebrae 's hand was already reached behind to grasp the hilt of the great sword strapped to her back, that foully-hexed blade too long to rest at the diminutive vampiress' side. Peridot-hued eyes shifted from Raejin to the wall and back, flitting from one to the other in consternation. "-What- chased you this..." And those frosted green hues followed the grating sound upward, the sword now brandished; eldred runes glowed a soft and corrosive verdigris. "The hell is it?"
Raejin continues to peer up, but he begins to move towards the door to the lower level of the tavern. "I don't know -what- it-" But Raejin is drowned out by a furious shriek, a rising pitch that tears at the ears. The celing of the tavern emits a large quantity of dust, and then suddenly bowls out in a reverse dome, the wood stretching unimaginably.
Daenari dubiously lofted a brow as the sound seemed to go away, and the patrons seemed nothing aside from what was normal considering the tavern and the realm. However, the lady's question seemed a good one, and the dryad could but wonder the same as she directed her gaze upward. Curious of the actions to follow, she remained mindful and alert of the man with the pick axe and the lady with the sword. The remainder of her water was uncerimoniously poured down her throat and the glass set firmly back down on the table. Strangely enough, there was a strange hat also sitting on the table. "Where did this come from?" she asked herself before shrugging and curling pale hands around the brim to better inspect it. The hat would then be placed on her head at about the time the ceiling took on a curious concave sort of shape, thus protecting her lustrous tresses from the falling dust and debris, for which she was thankful. However, she did tense quite visibly at hearing that dreadful noise and so forgot her gratitude for the moment to shoot a concerned look to the lady.
Lorgan allows a cursed, ruby gaze to paint the tavern...tainting first the form that is Raejin; second, the statute figure that would be his leader; and lastly, the corrupt blades of ceiling morphing in a wanton arrangement. He regards Tene's actions and duplicates them justly, his own blade now produced within a practiced grasp. The man fails to produce a ready poise, for he is not one to brandish worry pon his features, but he remains alert, nonetheless.
Tenebrae didn't like not knowing things. It always led to trouble, in her experience. Sooty lashes blinked and eyes crinkled closed against the rain of detritus falling from above, the necromancer stepping cautiously out of range of what was surely an impending collapse of roof. She gave the centaur a look that might've curdled milk, had there been any lying about. "You're a great bloody help then. Could be anything." She turned her glance upward once more.It was big, aggressive... Feral dragon perhaps? That fall of shadows 'round her shoulders writhed and coiled in pythonic twists, lashing now and then toward the source of the terrible sounds.
Daenari drew worriedly upon her lower lip with nervously nibbling teeth as she watched even more weapons unsheathed, as it were, and the threat unabated, or so it seemed. Damnable curiousity is all that kept her from fleeing to the basement, though the thought of vile creeping things...and even more dust...helped also to keep her from the dank refuge. Certainly, the noises being made were threatening, and whatever thrashed so violently would probably be more than a trifle. The dryad had nothing to brandish but her bow, and she was a good shot, but such a beast...or whatever it was...probably had defenses against such things. Meager magic could aid in their collective defense, she thought, but modesty abandoned, she doubted there was much she could do but watch
the others and wait for some unknown cue, and so she did with her heart beating within her chest like a bird too large for its cage flapping wildly to be free.
Raejin leaps from the center of the room, and stares up, his eyes wide. They didn't understand; Raejin was certain -no one- had ever seen anything like this. Not like this. With a jagged tearing sound, the tip of the inverted dome explodesin debris, and twelve sharp black talons peer through. In moments the roof is pried away, and horror itself is revealed. It is hard to describe; twelve long black legs, tipped with smooth and dagger-like ends. At first glance, it looks like some kind of giant spider, but one begins to realize that there is no abdomen or face. Just a thick and spongy mass connecting the legs. On its underbelly, a large glassy eye stares malevolently at the inhabitants of the tavern. Its eyes tests the sanity of everyone in the room, as if its mere presence is more evil than the aybss itself. It lands on the ground with a large thud, and screams once more, gaping jaws splitting open on its back, needle teeth glaring.
Lorgan is not drawn to remaining leisurely active when such a...malicious intent is thrown upon him, hence the reason fueling his ensuing actions. His chair clatters tediously behind, of no purpose save to mark the abrupt erection of legs beneath. His form retreats, but a step or two...he is no coward, but sheer and arrogant stupidity would mark his remains should he not have taken a defensive course initially. Nay, he is no imbecile...the mal-formed spider will attempt to work its desire before the human offers recoil.
Tenebrae hadn't had all that much in the way of opportunity since her arrival to look about the tavern and ascertain how many hands there might be to aid thier plight; she did that now, a relieved exhalation following the sight of Lorgan, and brief acknowledgement of the bow-weilding woman in the peculiar hat. Used to giving orders, she was about to shout a few, when that groaning roof indeed gave in and the horror that had weighted it plopped like some malevolent arachnid to the scuffed oaken boards. "Sven and his mother!" The curse left her lips, her grip upon the hilt of the cursed blade flexing, tightening; her stance dropped to a limber fighter's pose. Tene had seen all manners of nastiness in her three hundred-odd years, but this pretty much took the cake. Her familiar shadows snapped out to taste the thing, recoiling at its touch, solidifying upon that return to something denser, more liable to cause damage. The necromancer was ready, for when the fell beast would make its move, however that attack might manifest.
Daenari turned her gaze upward as dire noises were heard coming once more from the roof, as well as the sound of distressed wood. The whites of her eyes were displayed around thin blue rings and dilated pupils as the only barrier between the patrons and the beast was breached, unveiling the foul thing for what it was, or seemed to be. Staring in disbelief as the beast debuted, the dryad remained motionlessly while looking up. Normal thought processes escaped her entirely even as she stood on the threshold of her own peril, but she watched in horror like a silent transmitter to those few that would see before she was reminded, by some miracle of consciousness, of what skill she did possess. Bow was gripped reassuringly as she watched the fell creature intently, all the while listening and already calculating. Perhaps the eye...
Raejin let out a sharp breath as the beast landed. Its scream continued until it began to gurgle like a drowning troll. Stagnant yellow liquid began to trail down its skin, dropping to the ground, hissing violently as it burnt through the floor with ease. Raejin's eyes widened, and he kicked a table on its side with a hoove, crouching besides it. "For the love of the gods, find cover!"
Tenebrae was never one to follow directions, especially ones like 'find cover'. And it was eminently clear to her that whatever this thing was, it wasn't to to be discouraged by the act of hiding. Keen eyes had noted the eye beneath the spider-like body, that bloated sac also possessing a maw upon its back. The corrosive liquid that dripped to scorch blackened patches in the flooring had her worried.... Evidently a closer melee was out of the question. Vampiric or no, her flesh wasn't as tough as those oak boards... All this calculated in a fleeting second, she'd decided her course of action. her recent bout with the dire creature that was her maker had left her aware of the burgeoning power of her darknesses; fed, perhaps, by her time in the obsidian pool. It was to these she called, a mental cry for aid, and the serpentine shadows amassed to do her bidding. if she could tip the thing on its back... Everything had a soft underbelly of one sort or another. Focussing her will, extending it through the ribboning coils that were and were not a part
of her, she sent them forth to entangle the blasphemous beast, these tendrils darkening to beyond a midnight black as they wended thier way around frightful limb and hissing flesh.
Daenari reacted instinctively upon the outcry of the centaur by almost crouching involuntarily behind her chair, though, upon a quick glance at the floor, she doubted any cover provided by the tavern would be of much use. Her mind raced, and she looked away for the briefest span of a moment to the lady and then the pale fellow who seemed to have also taken up arms. Just as quickly, her eyes were back on the beast and its eye. It would be hard to judge its vulnerabilites so quickly, though she felt confident that the creature's weakness was not in those powerful legs. Even as she considered them, the dryad stepped back and prepared an arcane missile. If not a powerful offensive stroke, then hopefully a distraction so that the others may use what powers they have to bring down the threat. Shaking her head slightly, she glanced sidelong at the lady before firmly gripping her bow in left hand and pulling back on that already taut string with her right. Gleaming arrow of a serene azure hue was produced as the string was pulled as the dryad poured herself into the effort of producing a strong weapon. Sweat forming on her brow as she took aim, the bow was bent to a full and promising arc before sure fingers let loose a streak of bright blue that would speed toward the eye of the beast.
Cyranae blinks as he watches the fight unfurlow in front of him, the vampire raises a brow with a quizzical interest, wondering if he should step in with the said beast that occupies the tavern. Right hand griping 'Early Dawn' tightly, the illusionary-warrior waits, pondering to help or not.
Raejin shook his head at both Daenari and Tenebrae roughly, but anything he had to say was drowned out by the explosion of acidic bile. It geysered out in a horrendous pour, burning wood quickly. Daenari's arrow struck the eye dead on, and rang out loudly like chimes before spinning off in Tenebrae's direction. Raejin released the bright energy in his pick axe as he struck the table, and grabbed the table by one of its legs, lifting it above him like an umbrella. The table flashed green every time a glob of acid struck it, deflecting it with the ease the beast;s eye deflected the arrow.
Lorgan can be seen for only a moment...a flash of a human, escaping from the confines of the bar into the dull night. His glimmer of adorned hope and arrogance in skill is abandoned in flight...or was it? From outside the tavern can be heard a shrill whistle, undoubtedly spawn of the recently fled death knight. The pitched note summons a dark silence; a silence even the monstrosity considers and respects, it would seem. From
reaches unbeknownst echoes a voluminous roar, screaming in deft compliance. The guttural bellow was preliminary to a torrent of crimson pyre, cascading a hellish rain about the arachnid kin . From above falls valiantly the shadowy form of winged beast, brandishing shimmering talons and blood-lust canines. Mounted ‘pon the reptilian steed is Lorgan’s figure...draped in shadow, and undistinguished. Those ruby orbs slice through the sky, decorated with tints of golden hue. Alabaster locks whip furiously behind, lashing out into the heated night. The dragon-rider directs his mount in all its tremendous speed to pummel down into its spidery foe with razor claws and brute force.
Tenebrae gained some brief satisfaction over the fact that the archeress had had the wit to think alike as she, as obedient extrusions tightened on bristled legs, forcing the ghastly monster up enough to expose that vapid and malcontent eye. But the shot had gone wide, or the arrow bounced, she couldn't be sure which; and the projectile was flung hard against her unarmoured body. To her good fortune, the angle of trajectory had it hit her almost sidelong, the tip grazing a runnel of leather and flesh from breastbone to shoulder, and whatever magics resided in that arrow's tip shocked her neatly. She fell back, concentration lapsed, and thus it was her hold on the monstrous arthropod was released. With the splash and hiss of the thing's venom, only the merest droplets searing pallid skin, but enough to hasten her retreat, she glanced about for options... And hearing that whistle, her heart gained hope. Lorgan, and his dragon... And still, the stranger with the bow... They had a chance, were this being not too strong.
Zuljin lit his pipe when he finished packing. Shortly after his drink arrived, he downed it. Waiting for his next drink to arrive, he observed the crowd. Inhaling the contents of his pipe deeply , he noticed the liveliness of the tavern tonight with a smirk on his face he mumbled. "Hopefully somethin' interesting will happen tonight..."
Leoxander backed into the tavern with his crossbow armed, his breathing a little erratic beneath his mask, his eyes darting the area suspiciously at once. Still no Jack.
Daenari could but watch hopefully and then blink as her arrow was deflected, wincing as it ricocheted toward the lady. Small nose was wrinkled as she shook her head and then looked back to the beast, which seemed sadly unphased. "Gods..." she said softly both in disappointment and dismay that the threat yet stood. Wary eyes darted to the moving form of the centaur. Whatever this thing was, he seemed to have at least some knowledge of it, and that knowledge would have to be shared if they were going to work collaboratively. Dainty steps combined with agile leaps made her seem to almost dance across the floor as she dodged pools of acid on her way over to the equine man. She had nothing left to offer but her powers to heal and to create life, which seemed insufficient at the moment. Maybe this thing was allergic to pollen? At any rate, she doubted she had the solution and so sought answers in urgent and rushed tones that would be interrupted and halted as she watched one she thought an ally in the endeavor against the beast seem to flee. Jaw was dropped in shock as she watched him depart, and even as she hoped he rushed away after a solution, that scream was heard. Either the monster had allies of his own or another force was being summoned against it. She could only hope for the latter and dodge the acidic puddles and pourings as she turned to the lady. Oh, how unfortunate that arrow's path, and she silently berated herself for being so presumptuous as to let loose the thing on an uncertain target. The arrow failed as did the endeavors of the lady, due in part to the dryad's arrow gone astray. What unhappy chance, though all she could do was think of the next move. The bow was gripped once more, though a free hand stood ready to produce another missile or to heal the results of the next attack.
Leoxander heard the cut of arrows through the air, and instinctively, he crouched into a duck with his left arm raising to protect his head. His right, armed with the crossbow, remained aim to the door, momentarily falling upon Miya with a wild look in the human's eyes. He almost fired a dozen arrows into the woman's chest, but fortunately, the mad man held onto sense enough to turn defensively toward other noise. He froze, before backing in the opposite direction, the way he'd so nervously come. Now he half tripped over Miya until his shoulderblades touched to the heavy door.
Raejin begins to dig in his pack as the creature is flipped. The acid instantly stops spewing as the summoned from above closes in on it. It now emits a deep and dark laugh, and the eye shatters like glass. A massive and slender hand whips out of the
whole, the skin soft and bright. It is extremley out of place, coming out of a disgusting terror, but all who see it feel a dense power curl upon their brains, and they know instantly; this is the beast's true power. This hand is the hand of the creator itself. It reaches for the summoned being coming towards it, its hand withholding untold greatness at its fingertips. Only a few feet from touching the summoned, a barrier produces itself, thinner than parchment and icy blue. The barrier is made from the material of the beams that hold the universe together, and it creates a large cube that bars entrance or exit. A voice calls out, ecohing thousandfold from the original. "Flower...."
Miya looks around for the said green stuff. She runs on light feet over to where Mesthak is, she hides behind the bar, holding up a serving tray as to fend off any of the acid spit her way.
Tenebrae 's venom-scored forearms stung as though assailed by a hive of wasps, her grip upon her blade loosening with each pulse and throb of pain as the poisonous fluid worked beneath skin to sear nerve and muscle. She threw the weapon aside, useless as it was, as her brow creased to furrow a line in the center of her forehead; gathering up the wit and nerve shocked from her with the arrow's ill-fated flight. Sanguine slicked the torn leather of her dress, her eyes wild with a battle-lust that only hindered her concentration... She forced it down, like a mouthful of something distasteful, and narrowed her will upon the lashing cloak of shadows that had retracted to her form. An image centered in her mind unbidden; that of a Universe comprised of darkness, the light mere pinprick intrusions, alien and sorrowfully small. Delicate nostrils flared, and it felt to her that her entire being swelled with some overwhelming force, as was drawn to her the enormity of this thought and in kind the power behind it. With a sussurating hiss, the darknesses at her command went forth, to battle, it seemed by this latest turn of events, some other great force, the nature of which she could not know. All the same, those snaking shadows, mere shadows no longer, lashed against the barrier created by the intruder, the abysmal nature of them drawing, absorbing, sucking vitality from this curious sheild.
Zuljin sighs as now he knows his drink probably isn't going to make its way over to him. Amazed at the size of the beast he leans his chair frorward, and stands up. Standing behind the creature with all of its other foes in it's direct frame of sight, he kicks his table making his fly over the rear of the beast, hitting it ontop of it's 'skull'. As he waits for the beasts reaction he shouts "Yeah, you filthy creature turn around I got somethin for ya." Hoping that with the creatures attention directed toward him the crowd can think of something crafty.
Daenari could only wait and watch as the newly summoned beast prepared to assault the tavern-wrecking, acid-spewing monstrosity, though that laugh brought her almost to her knees and shook her to the very core of her being. The dryad had heard of Gods, long ago and long thought dormant or dead by her people, that would pull such elaborate tricks on unsuspecting mortals, though she knew not what to think as that eye shattered and that hand came forth. It seemed quite nearly a product of her own dreams of late, like some terrible manifestation of the ever present Sister come to haunt her errant acolyte. The bow was abruptly abandoned as she then knew that any assault on this thing would have to be more profound than magic-aided force of arms. Indeed, this seemed to call for completely different tactical measures, and then that word. It was, of course, just a universally understood sound that was connected to the very same objects the dryad so coveted and guarded and even mourned. Flower? What could it mean? Even as she pondered, her left hand was flourished to produce a single white bloom, a daisy. Symbol of innocence and purity, the dryad knew how to wield it, how to command and respect it, and so she dropped it, as she was often wont to do. The power felt from that creature was immense, but it was not foreign, nor strange...it was understood, or so she hoped. Standing there, small and defenseless, much like the things she loved, the dryad also let fall her strange adornment. The hat fell, and the Sister came.
Lorgan crosses two muscular arms in front, bracing himself for an impact that would be inevitably tumultuous. The man, despite desperate efforts, rolls unceremoniously from his mount. His cascade from the ominous height is not the expected and twisting flail, but a trained and sure plummet. Known to the death knight, but marvelous to any onlookers, the dragon follows her master in a sculpted dive, dipping just beneath him to allow agraceful repositioning. The human finds his feet ‘pon firm ground moments later, an undecipherable whisper offered in a foreign tongue before the winged giant floats from view. Lorgan pierces a glare through the barrier, deep in thought, wearing his confusion on his toned visage as a mask. The problem was not entering...but what to do upon entrance. The act completely unheralded, his form flickers into the wind, appearing again only paces further...except within the barrier. The common spell recall, no doubt...his facade offers no sign that he had even noticed his teleportation. His orbs were ever-transfixed with desire for an answer.
Raejin looks away as the arm and the beast explodes in blinding light. The daisy is pulled into the mass of light by some unknown force, and moments later a new scene is revealed. A young girl, naked, is being devoured by the arachnid-esque creature from before. Her body is covered in ichor, and she is bloody from the teeth as they clamp tightly into her like sharpened vices. Tears pour down her face in terror and pain. She extends a hand out for help, and the barrier shatters. The echoing voice calls out distressfully once more. "Help me. Please, please don't let it eat me!"
Tenebrae had wandered in not moments before, and the impetus of Reajin's entry had her taking several hurried steps backward toward the bar, peridot eyes widened and the lashing shadows that masqueraded as her cloak shifting in sinuous readiness. "Gods, man, how to give a body a fright!" The exclamation more for herself than he, really, as she wrinkled her nose against the stink of burning wood.Daenari did not move or blink or even seem to breathe at all as she simply stared out at nothingness, surrendering not for the first time to internal processes proving all too overwhelming for the mind of the dryad. Drawn even inward upon herself like some never-ending narcissus, she might have seemed reposed. Even the sudden arrival of several patrons, as well as some to do with one such entry, was not enough to shake her from the reverie, leaving her an island amidst many other islands with no bridge to span the distance. Too many were sleeping then, and as she spiraled, she joined in their slumber and became part of the single-mindedness that they had all become.
Raejin jerks his head in Tenebrae's direction. "What...?" Raejin then looks about, taking in his surroundings. "The tavern...it chased this far...." Raejin's concentration and adrenaline is renewed as a sharp crunching sound is heard upon the sides of the tavern. It continues rapidly up to the roof, and stops ominously. Raejin stares up, his pick axe waxing and waning with power.
Daenari floated in the current existing void of thought that was the sleeping Sister, as she had come to call it. However, there was a consciousness that spoke with voices too soft and too few. They spoke of waking and of living and of learning, because there was nothing else for them or for her. Waiting, then, she was reminded of her calling and of the urgency with which she had been sent, but always to return. Some said exile, but she knew better, and felt the pull even now of those that lingered in twilight for her to come back. Blue hues were curtained with the falling of feathery lashes as she blinked and returned to the tavern and to the physical present. Returning sensation was greeted with the sound of something...creeping...and she glanced about with widened eyes before realizing the new patrons.
Tenebrae 's hand was already reached behind to grasp the hilt of the great sword strapped to her back, that foully-hexed blade too long to rest at the diminutive vampiress' side. Peridot-hued eyes shifted from Raejin to the wall and back, flitting from one to the other in consternation. "-What- chased you this..." And those frosted green hues followed the grating sound upward, the sword now brandished; eldred runes glowed a soft and corrosive verdigris. "The hell is it?"
Raejin continues to peer up, but he begins to move towards the door to the lower level of the tavern. "I don't know -what- it-" But Raejin is drowned out by a furious shriek, a rising pitch that tears at the ears. The celing of the tavern emits a large quantity of dust, and then suddenly bowls out in a reverse dome, the wood stretching unimaginably.
Daenari dubiously lofted a brow as the sound seemed to go away, and the patrons seemed nothing aside from what was normal considering the tavern and the realm. However, the lady's question seemed a good one, and the dryad could but wonder the same as she directed her gaze upward. Curious of the actions to follow, she remained mindful and alert of the man with the pick axe and the lady with the sword. The remainder of her water was uncerimoniously poured down her throat and the glass set firmly back down on the table. Strangely enough, there was a strange hat also sitting on the table. "Where did this come from?" she asked herself before shrugging and curling pale hands around the brim to better inspect it. The hat would then be placed on her head at about the time the ceiling took on a curious concave sort of shape, thus protecting her lustrous tresses from the falling dust and debris, for which she was thankful. However, she did tense quite visibly at hearing that dreadful noise and so forgot her gratitude for the moment to shoot a concerned look to the lady.
Lorgan allows a cursed, ruby gaze to paint the tavern...tainting first the form that is Raejin; second, the statute figure that would be his leader; and lastly, the corrupt blades of ceiling morphing in a wanton arrangement. He regards Tene's actions and duplicates them justly, his own blade now produced within a practiced grasp. The man fails to produce a ready poise, for he is not one to brandish worry pon his features, but he remains alert, nonetheless.
Tenebrae didn't like not knowing things. It always led to trouble, in her experience. Sooty lashes blinked and eyes crinkled closed against the rain of detritus falling from above, the necromancer stepping cautiously out of range of what was surely an impending collapse of roof. She gave the centaur a look that might've curdled milk, had there been any lying about. "You're a great bloody help then. Could be anything." She turned her glance upward once more.It was big, aggressive... Feral dragon perhaps? That fall of shadows 'round her shoulders writhed and coiled in pythonic twists, lashing now and then toward the source of the terrible sounds.
Daenari drew worriedly upon her lower lip with nervously nibbling teeth as she watched even more weapons unsheathed, as it were, and the threat unabated, or so it seemed. Damnable curiousity is all that kept her from fleeing to the basement, though the thought of vile creeping things...and even more dust...helped also to keep her from the dank refuge. Certainly, the noises being made were threatening, and whatever thrashed so violently would probably be more than a trifle. The dryad had nothing to brandish but her bow, and she was a good shot, but such a beast...or whatever it was...probably had defenses against such things. Meager magic could aid in their collective defense, she thought, but modesty abandoned, she doubted there was much she could do but watch
the others and wait for some unknown cue, and so she did with her heart beating within her chest like a bird too large for its cage flapping wildly to be free.
Raejin leaps from the center of the room, and stares up, his eyes wide. They didn't understand; Raejin was certain -no one- had ever seen anything like this. Not like this. With a jagged tearing sound, the tip of the inverted dome explodesin debris, and twelve sharp black talons peer through. In moments the roof is pried away, and horror itself is revealed. It is hard to describe; twelve long black legs, tipped with smooth and dagger-like ends. At first glance, it looks like some kind of giant spider, but one begins to realize that there is no abdomen or face. Just a thick and spongy mass connecting the legs. On its underbelly, a large glassy eye stares malevolently at the inhabitants of the tavern. Its eyes tests the sanity of everyone in the room, as if its mere presence is more evil than the aybss itself. It lands on the ground with a large thud, and screams once more, gaping jaws splitting open on its back, needle teeth glaring.
Lorgan is not drawn to remaining leisurely active when such a...malicious intent is thrown upon him, hence the reason fueling his ensuing actions. His chair clatters tediously behind, of no purpose save to mark the abrupt erection of legs beneath. His form retreats, but a step or two...he is no coward, but sheer and arrogant stupidity would mark his remains should he not have taken a defensive course initially. Nay, he is no imbecile...the mal-formed spider will attempt to work its desire before the human offers recoil.
Tenebrae hadn't had all that much in the way of opportunity since her arrival to look about the tavern and ascertain how many hands there might be to aid thier plight; she did that now, a relieved exhalation following the sight of Lorgan, and brief acknowledgement of the bow-weilding woman in the peculiar hat. Used to giving orders, she was about to shout a few, when that groaning roof indeed gave in and the horror that had weighted it plopped like some malevolent arachnid to the scuffed oaken boards. "Sven and his mother!" The curse left her lips, her grip upon the hilt of the cursed blade flexing, tightening; her stance dropped to a limber fighter's pose. Tene had seen all manners of nastiness in her three hundred-odd years, but this pretty much took the cake. Her familiar shadows snapped out to taste the thing, recoiling at its touch, solidifying upon that return to something denser, more liable to cause damage. The necromancer was ready, for when the fell beast would make its move, however that attack might manifest.
Daenari turned her gaze upward as dire noises were heard coming once more from the roof, as well as the sound of distressed wood. The whites of her eyes were displayed around thin blue rings and dilated pupils as the only barrier between the patrons and the beast was breached, unveiling the foul thing for what it was, or seemed to be. Staring in disbelief as the beast debuted, the dryad remained motionlessly while looking up. Normal thought processes escaped her entirely even as she stood on the threshold of her own peril, but she watched in horror like a silent transmitter to those few that would see before she was reminded, by some miracle of consciousness, of what skill she did possess. Bow was gripped reassuringly as she watched the fell creature intently, all the while listening and already calculating. Perhaps the eye...
Raejin let out a sharp breath as the beast landed. Its scream continued until it began to gurgle like a drowning troll. Stagnant yellow liquid began to trail down its skin, dropping to the ground, hissing violently as it burnt through the floor with ease. Raejin's eyes widened, and he kicked a table on its side with a hoove, crouching besides it. "For the love of the gods, find cover!"
Tenebrae was never one to follow directions, especially ones like 'find cover'. And it was eminently clear to her that whatever this thing was, it wasn't to to be discouraged by the act of hiding. Keen eyes had noted the eye beneath the spider-like body, that bloated sac also possessing a maw upon its back. The corrosive liquid that dripped to scorch blackened patches in the flooring had her worried.... Evidently a closer melee was out of the question. Vampiric or no, her flesh wasn't as tough as those oak boards... All this calculated in a fleeting second, she'd decided her course of action. her recent bout with the dire creature that was her maker had left her aware of the burgeoning power of her darknesses; fed, perhaps, by her time in the obsidian pool. It was to these she called, a mental cry for aid, and the serpentine shadows amassed to do her bidding. if she could tip the thing on its back... Everything had a soft underbelly of one sort or another. Focussing her will, extending it through the ribboning coils that were and were not a part
of her, she sent them forth to entangle the blasphemous beast, these tendrils darkening to beyond a midnight black as they wended thier way around frightful limb and hissing flesh.
Daenari reacted instinctively upon the outcry of the centaur by almost crouching involuntarily behind her chair, though, upon a quick glance at the floor, she doubted any cover provided by the tavern would be of much use. Her mind raced, and she looked away for the briefest span of a moment to the lady and then the pale fellow who seemed to have also taken up arms. Just as quickly, her eyes were back on the beast and its eye. It would be hard to judge its vulnerabilites so quickly, though she felt confident that the creature's weakness was not in those powerful legs. Even as she considered them, the dryad stepped back and prepared an arcane missile. If not a powerful offensive stroke, then hopefully a distraction so that the others may use what powers they have to bring down the threat. Shaking her head slightly, she glanced sidelong at the lady before firmly gripping her bow in left hand and pulling back on that already taut string with her right. Gleaming arrow of a serene azure hue was produced as the string was pulled as the dryad poured herself into the effort of producing a strong weapon. Sweat forming on her brow as she took aim, the bow was bent to a full and promising arc before sure fingers let loose a streak of bright blue that would speed toward the eye of the beast.
Cyranae blinks as he watches the fight unfurlow in front of him, the vampire raises a brow with a quizzical interest, wondering if he should step in with the said beast that occupies the tavern. Right hand griping 'Early Dawn' tightly, the illusionary-warrior waits, pondering to help or not.
Raejin shook his head at both Daenari and Tenebrae roughly, but anything he had to say was drowned out by the explosion of acidic bile. It geysered out in a horrendous pour, burning wood quickly. Daenari's arrow struck the eye dead on, and rang out loudly like chimes before spinning off in Tenebrae's direction. Raejin released the bright energy in his pick axe as he struck the table, and grabbed the table by one of its legs, lifting it above him like an umbrella. The table flashed green every time a glob of acid struck it, deflecting it with the ease the beast;s eye deflected the arrow.
Lorgan can be seen for only a moment...a flash of a human, escaping from the confines of the bar into the dull night. His glimmer of adorned hope and arrogance in skill is abandoned in flight...or was it? From outside the tavern can be heard a shrill whistle, undoubtedly spawn of the recently fled death knight. The pitched note summons a dark silence; a silence even the monstrosity considers and respects, it would seem. From
reaches unbeknownst echoes a voluminous roar, screaming in deft compliance. The guttural bellow was preliminary to a torrent of crimson pyre, cascading a hellish rain about the arachnid kin . From above falls valiantly the shadowy form of winged beast, brandishing shimmering talons and blood-lust canines. Mounted ‘pon the reptilian steed is Lorgan’s figure...draped in shadow, and undistinguished. Those ruby orbs slice through the sky, decorated with tints of golden hue. Alabaster locks whip furiously behind, lashing out into the heated night. The dragon-rider directs his mount in all its tremendous speed to pummel down into its spidery foe with razor claws and brute force.
Tenebrae gained some brief satisfaction over the fact that the archeress had had the wit to think alike as she, as obedient extrusions tightened on bristled legs, forcing the ghastly monster up enough to expose that vapid and malcontent eye. But the shot had gone wide, or the arrow bounced, she couldn't be sure which; and the projectile was flung hard against her unarmoured body. To her good fortune, the angle of trajectory had it hit her almost sidelong, the tip grazing a runnel of leather and flesh from breastbone to shoulder, and whatever magics resided in that arrow's tip shocked her neatly. She fell back, concentration lapsed, and thus it was her hold on the monstrous arthropod was released. With the splash and hiss of the thing's venom, only the merest droplets searing pallid skin, but enough to hasten her retreat, she glanced about for options... And hearing that whistle, her heart gained hope. Lorgan, and his dragon... And still, the stranger with the bow... They had a chance, were this being not too strong.
Zuljin lit his pipe when he finished packing. Shortly after his drink arrived, he downed it. Waiting for his next drink to arrive, he observed the crowd. Inhaling the contents of his pipe deeply , he noticed the liveliness of the tavern tonight with a smirk on his face he mumbled. "Hopefully somethin' interesting will happen tonight..."
Leoxander backed into the tavern with his crossbow armed, his breathing a little erratic beneath his mask, his eyes darting the area suspiciously at once. Still no Jack.
Daenari could but watch hopefully and then blink as her arrow was deflected, wincing as it ricocheted toward the lady. Small nose was wrinkled as she shook her head and then looked back to the beast, which seemed sadly unphased. "Gods..." she said softly both in disappointment and dismay that the threat yet stood. Wary eyes darted to the moving form of the centaur. Whatever this thing was, he seemed to have at least some knowledge of it, and that knowledge would have to be shared if they were going to work collaboratively. Dainty steps combined with agile leaps made her seem to almost dance across the floor as she dodged pools of acid on her way over to the equine man. She had nothing left to offer but her powers to heal and to create life, which seemed insufficient at the moment. Maybe this thing was allergic to pollen? At any rate, she doubted she had the solution and so sought answers in urgent and rushed tones that would be interrupted and halted as she watched one she thought an ally in the endeavor against the beast seem to flee. Jaw was dropped in shock as she watched him depart, and even as she hoped he rushed away after a solution, that scream was heard. Either the monster had allies of his own or another force was being summoned against it. She could only hope for the latter and dodge the acidic puddles and pourings as she turned to the lady. Oh, how unfortunate that arrow's path, and she silently berated herself for being so presumptuous as to let loose the thing on an uncertain target. The arrow failed as did the endeavors of the lady, due in part to the dryad's arrow gone astray. What unhappy chance, though all she could do was think of the next move. The bow was gripped once more, though a free hand stood ready to produce another missile or to heal the results of the next attack.
Leoxander heard the cut of arrows through the air, and instinctively, he crouched into a duck with his left arm raising to protect his head. His right, armed with the crossbow, remained aim to the door, momentarily falling upon Miya with a wild look in the human's eyes. He almost fired a dozen arrows into the woman's chest, but fortunately, the mad man held onto sense enough to turn defensively toward other noise. He froze, before backing in the opposite direction, the way he'd so nervously come. Now he half tripped over Miya until his shoulderblades touched to the heavy door.
Raejin begins to dig in his pack as the creature is flipped. The acid instantly stops spewing as the summoned from above closes in on it. It now emits a deep and dark laugh, and the eye shatters like glass. A massive and slender hand whips out of the
whole, the skin soft and bright. It is extremley out of place, coming out of a disgusting terror, but all who see it feel a dense power curl upon their brains, and they know instantly; this is the beast's true power. This hand is the hand of the creator itself. It reaches for the summoned being coming towards it, its hand withholding untold greatness at its fingertips. Only a few feet from touching the summoned, a barrier produces itself, thinner than parchment and icy blue. The barrier is made from the material of the beams that hold the universe together, and it creates a large cube that bars entrance or exit. A voice calls out, ecohing thousandfold from the original. "Flower...."
Miya looks around for the said green stuff. She runs on light feet over to where Mesthak is, she hides behind the bar, holding up a serving tray as to fend off any of the acid spit her way.
Tenebrae 's venom-scored forearms stung as though assailed by a hive of wasps, her grip upon her blade loosening with each pulse and throb of pain as the poisonous fluid worked beneath skin to sear nerve and muscle. She threw the weapon aside, useless as it was, as her brow creased to furrow a line in the center of her forehead; gathering up the wit and nerve shocked from her with the arrow's ill-fated flight. Sanguine slicked the torn leather of her dress, her eyes wild with a battle-lust that only hindered her concentration... She forced it down, like a mouthful of something distasteful, and narrowed her will upon the lashing cloak of shadows that had retracted to her form. An image centered in her mind unbidden; that of a Universe comprised of darkness, the light mere pinprick intrusions, alien and sorrowfully small. Delicate nostrils flared, and it felt to her that her entire being swelled with some overwhelming force, as was drawn to her the enormity of this thought and in kind the power behind it. With a sussurating hiss, the darknesses at her command went forth, to battle, it seemed by this latest turn of events, some other great force, the nature of which she could not know. All the same, those snaking shadows, mere shadows no longer, lashed against the barrier created by the intruder, the abysmal nature of them drawing, absorbing, sucking vitality from this curious sheild.
Zuljin sighs as now he knows his drink probably isn't going to make its way over to him. Amazed at the size of the beast he leans his chair frorward, and stands up. Standing behind the creature with all of its other foes in it's direct frame of sight, he kicks his table making his fly over the rear of the beast, hitting it ontop of it's 'skull'. As he waits for the beasts reaction he shouts "Yeah, you filthy creature turn around I got somethin for ya." Hoping that with the creatures attention directed toward him the crowd can think of something crafty.
Daenari could only wait and watch as the newly summoned beast prepared to assault the tavern-wrecking, acid-spewing monstrosity, though that laugh brought her almost to her knees and shook her to the very core of her being. The dryad had heard of Gods, long ago and long thought dormant or dead by her people, that would pull such elaborate tricks on unsuspecting mortals, though she knew not what to think as that eye shattered and that hand came forth. It seemed quite nearly a product of her own dreams of late, like some terrible manifestation of the ever present Sister come to haunt her errant acolyte. The bow was abruptly abandoned as she then knew that any assault on this thing would have to be more profound than magic-aided force of arms. Indeed, this seemed to call for completely different tactical measures, and then that word. It was, of course, just a universally understood sound that was connected to the very same objects the dryad so coveted and guarded and even mourned. Flower? What could it mean? Even as she pondered, her left hand was flourished to produce a single white bloom, a daisy. Symbol of innocence and purity, the dryad knew how to wield it, how to command and respect it, and so she dropped it, as she was often wont to do. The power felt from that creature was immense, but it was not foreign, nor strange...it was understood, or so she hoped. Standing there, small and defenseless, much like the things she loved, the dryad also let fall her strange adornment. The hat fell, and the Sister came.
Lorgan crosses two muscular arms in front, bracing himself for an impact that would be inevitably tumultuous. The man, despite desperate efforts, rolls unceremoniously from his mount. His cascade from the ominous height is not the expected and twisting flail, but a trained and sure plummet. Known to the death knight, but marvelous to any onlookers, the dragon follows her master in a sculpted dive, dipping just beneath him to allow agraceful repositioning. The human finds his feet ‘pon firm ground moments later, an undecipherable whisper offered in a foreign tongue before the winged giant floats from view. Lorgan pierces a glare through the barrier, deep in thought, wearing his confusion on his toned visage as a mask. The problem was not entering...but what to do upon entrance. The act completely unheralded, his form flickers into the wind, appearing again only paces further...except within the barrier. The common spell recall, no doubt...his facade offers no sign that he had even noticed his teleportation. His orbs were ever-transfixed with desire for an answer.
Raejin looks away as the arm and the beast explodes in blinding light. The daisy is pulled into the mass of light by some unknown force, and moments later a new scene is revealed. A young girl, naked, is being devoured by the arachnid-esque creature from before. Her body is covered in ichor, and she is bloody from the teeth as they clamp tightly into her like sharpened vices. Tears pour down her face in terror and pain. She extends a hand out for help, and the barrier shatters. The echoing voice calls out distressfully once more. "Help me. Please, please don't let it eat me!"