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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 1654561" data-attributes="member: 227">Another update! And yes, I'm afraid to say that this one starts with more introspection from Ebri <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f609.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=";)" title="Wink    ;)"  data-smilie="2"data-shortname=";)" /> <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /> and it kinda breaks up the flow of the battle of the bit. But this bit of introspection is actually very important in the story.Why?Because Ebri is about to reveal her true nature, as a member of the secretive Nephians, who are surrounded by myth and legend and feared as assassins and spies, to the rest of the group.Yes, she's chosen the middle of a fight to do so. Good timing, eh? <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f600.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":D" title="Big grin    :D"  data-smilie="8"data-shortname=":D" />All the way down the stairs Ebri had debated with herself, and come to no real conclusion. This was far too dangerous. Far too dangerous. It would have been wiser to take her into the mountains. Why they travelled with this ragtag band was a mystery, in any case. What benefit could this possibly have? Knowledge, of course. That, wherever it was found, was a sweet reward and well worth seeking, but it was secondary to her mission now. The ward's protection was the thing she must consider, first of all. Protection in spite of herself? For that, as she had turned it over in the depths of her mind night after night, was the crux of the matter. Melisande must be protected, but she, Ebri, could hardly force her into safety. Had that been the goal of the Old Masters, surely they would have instructed her not to find her and guard her, but to find her and bring her back, where she could be watched and kept away from harm. Their instructions implied that-- whatever her intrinsic value to the Prophet's ends-- Melisande should retain a certain amount of freedom of action. Is it her life that is paramount, or what she may accomplish? It was a failing in her not to have considered this point before, Ebri realized now. For each situation required a different, a critically different approach. If Melisande were merely important in the Plan as she was now, as an aasimar with magical power, then protection was the key. But if it were her potential that the Masters recognized as the greatest thing of value to them, the question became how should that potential best be developed? Would it happen naturally, or must she be guided along a certain course? Was this the Purpose unfolding now-- adventuring in the wild with these mercenary creatures...? Blind!-- she chastized herself bitterly. Blinded by assumptions and limited understandings. You have not even questioned your very assignment to its fullest extent-- Was it important that her ward understand her own position? She had never questioned this either, only habitually keeping silence as to her identity. Perhaps it would have been more effective...[/i[ To some extent Ebri had thought to keep Melisande unaware, if it were true that Dreamweavers sought to affect her through the workings of the mind. But for the most part, she had simply worn her deception like an outward robe-- with little thought at all. If knowledge is power -- and it is, though it is more than that-- then you have rendered her powerless. Ebri accused herself, feeling it sharply. Though you sought to protect her, that is exactly what you have done-- Her thoughts broke off, as the sounds of the approaching cultists came to her, and she passed them along to the group. As the magical fury passed over head, the lightning and flame was nothing to the force of her internal recriminations. That was pride. Vanity. By keeping her powerless, you sought to remain useful, needful-- imposing your own will on that of the Prophet-- As the flies swarmed and the shapes of the three metal clad figures could be made out, Ebri stepped grimly in front of Melisande, taking a defensive stance with her kama in one hand. With the other, she reached into her wrap, drawing forth the talking metal skull and releasing it into the air. Hopefully, it would float above or beyond the melee, and not be damaged. As she eyed the flails of the oncoming foe, she considered what a crushing blow to her body might do to the metal construct. It was just as well to release it. "Mimir--" she ordered the inanimate thing, "--record what I say, from now until I instruct you otherwise:" She went on, preparing to meet the enemy, and not trying overmuch to keep her voice down. If Melisande or Sebastion heard, it would only serve her purposes. For the others, she did not care; it would likely be irrelevant, in any case. "Ebri Zol, initiate of the third rank of the Way of Shadow, to her brethren of the Place of Larch and Alder-- Greetings..."* * *With the sound of the buzzing flies muffling all other noise as the flying vermin clogged the air, swarming over the combatants. The noisome insects skittering across faces and skin was immensely off-putting and revulsive, forcing regular coughing and spitting to extract wayward flies from mouths and noses. Through the miasma of tiny, flitting forms the armoured templars strode, their flails arcing through the air menacingly and gouting forth even more insects. [size=+1]"Begone, invaders, or suffer the same fate as those you now walk over."[/size] Sebastion's defiant challenge rang across the space between the two forces; strangely, a faint smell of burning tin floated on the air as he did so, and a distant sound as if of far-away bells tingled in the heads of those present. The glowing crystal veins in Jarvis's sword seemed to momentarily glow brighter as well. However, it was hard to tell whether or not the enemy actually took note of his words, hidden behind filter masks as their faces were, and they came on regardless. (DM Note: Sebastion manifesting the Demoralise psionic power. He doesn't yet realise he *is* psionic).With a whumph of igniting flame, Melisande summoned forth the fire serpent, the sinuous elemental of ash and fire slipping between dimensions to manifest into reality. A constant series of pops and hisses sounded as the thickly clouded flies kept on landing on it, immolating immediately. The templars were met with a hail of ill-aimed missile fire, the cloud of flies causing problems with targeting them. Meg'anna sent a bola whipping through the air at the nearest disciple of Kevayek, the leather thongs of the weapon wrapping round armour-plated legs and nearly toppling the man, but as he staggered backwards he just managed to keep his balance. A hiss of freezing moisture sounded as Melisande let forth a minor spell, a beam of frost that went wide, dropping more flies out of the air as they froze and fell to the ground; her lack of success was matched by a dark bolt of energy let loose by Burl doing little more than bringing yet more flies to a premature end. Wyshira hurled another prismatic javelin, the crystalline weapon energising into a shaft of flame as it arced towards the templars but missed and scorched a mark across the stone floor of the tunnel instead. Ansas'turi brought her own weapon, a light crossbow, to bear on the advancing figures, actually scoring a hit as the shaft bit through the rusted shoulder armour of a templar and buried into flesh, brought forth a trickle of dark blood. The Kevayek worshipper turned his masked head to observe the wound as if perceiving a minor irritant, then carried on forwards regardless. Then the same foe was struck by a scourging lash of white lightning from the metal claws of the steamwork lich, Jarael's magic flaying pieces of corroded metal off and scorching skin, stopping the templar in his tracks as his limbs jerked and twitched from electrical overload. Regaining his balance, the cleric kept a grip on the haft of his heavy flail with one hand, bringing up the other to touch the patch of ruined flesh that bubbled where armour and skin had been burned; with a glow of green energy, he wove healing magic across it that healed the injury entirely. Gaethras hit the same templar with another spell, a bolt of muted colour that Melisande recognised as an agonise incantation from her time in the Manipulator labs. It should have reduced the target to a screaming heap of pain but instead he simply shrugged it off. Rather than sending yet another spell towards the foe, Johanne wove a burning hands spell and unleashed coruscating torrents of fire into the air around him, causing a crisp rain of flies to drift down through the air and momentarily clearing the atmosphere around the band from the irritating vermin. Hidden by shadows and magic, Kale chose this moment to strike, launching his grapnel from where he had crept behind the enemy. It caught on the armour of his chosen target, screeching across metal then hooking in between the plates, but as he gave a mighty wrench to try and bring the man down, and as the invisibility spell on him faded, he found himself outmatched in a contest of strength. As the surprised templar reached round to try and grab the rope to reel Kale in, he wisely dropped it, but now he had been spotted. The cleric turned to face him and charged towards him with flail whipping in deadly circles through the air, but fortunately agility and shadowes kept the spiked head from pulverising the mercenary. The other templar bulled forwards into the band, heavy flail swiping at Sebastion, but the clumsy strike was easily avoided. Both Cazamir and Ebri engaged him now, Ebri accompanied by the floating mimir that seemed almost eager to record her words. She found herself knocked off-balance by the armoured bulk of the templar though, and ended up reeling away just to avoid being pulped by the flail. Cazamir was more successful, landing a solid hit. The Carthagian warrior-mage and armoured Toranite moved to attack the templar who had stopped to heal himself, charging through the humming, buzzing cloud of flies to assail him with blade and mace. The mage's sword simply slid off the armour, seemingly resilient even with the stains of rust and corrosion etched into it, but the bladed mace of the Toranite proved itself again as it tore straight through metal and bit out a chunk of flesh with a spray of blood, and the templar roared in anger at the attack.More to come...</blockquote>

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