So sorry. Been very busy, especially since I got a new computer and now need to find a Windows version of Anathema.
[X]Hold it off until Shell's sisters can get here.
Sorcerer!
Was that Ligier? Yes, it was. The bond between summoner ad summoned could extend even to this realm, assuming it wasn't now incorporated with Creation.
Yes, Ligier? What is the situation with Vodak?
It is quite amusing! The heckatonchire is a resilient foe, but I have devised strategies with the Mistress of Gethamane on its eventual demise. I sense you are in Autochthonia?
...yes. I may have misused the Eye of Autochthon. I turned its master into a waterfowl, summoned a crystal dragon, and summoned a behemoth made out of Ruvelia's Warden Soul.
Ha ha! Of course, Zeruel would be overjoyed to be reunited with his mistress! For behind that bloodthirsty gaze is the soul of a poet!
You glance at the shoulder mounted shadow demon with the expressionless, deaths head face. You shrug.
As it is, Sorcerer, I merely wished to inform you of my progress. I am off to repair the Reality Engines.
And the connection ends. Reality engines? Maybe you should visit Gethamane when this is done.
"It is inside me! IT IS INSIDE ME! AND IT TELLS ME TO MAKE YOU MY MEAT PUPPET!"
But first you want to deal with the Apostate Colossus. And you don't see a couple hundred blood apes, so that means you were transported here without your retinue. "Fuck."
(Join Battle: 9 dice, 5 successes)
Sky grabs you and the two of you flicker, disappearing from where you were and hence not getting hit by the immense soulsteel drill that carves into the brass. The yellow eyes of the Colossus flicker and its shoulder fins open, two blazing lances of essence lights carving the world around you.
Sky deflects the beam heading to the two of you off the flat of his blade, sending the crimson light into the sky and carving into the metal. The brass ceiling of the world glows, deflected essence from the Apostate's beam carving a river of molten brass and steams roaring perilously close to you.
"Shell!" you yell, "Tell your sisters to hurry up!"
"I WILL KILL YOUR DEATH!"
Ray leaps off of a high perch, grabbing onto the horn of the colossus. She holds on, flipping around it and slamming her heels into the immense forehead, as the colossus charges towards the two of you with murderous (what else) intent.
Sky flickers and you both appear next to Ruvelia, the colossus slamming into a rusted cliffside.
"So," Ruvelia says, "You have found my other-self's former Warden Soul. I should prepare to teach my charms to your Eclipse caste."
You nod. "Sounds good."
Ruvelia smiles, and turns to the hovering black mass. "My defender. Engage the Colossus. But take care, for he may possess the power to kill the immortal."
The recessed eyes of the Warden Soul glow, and with a single bound he grows- to immense size, to immense weight, to immense power. A Behemoth- much like the fabled behemoths of old, like the fabled army slayer rumored to patrol the grounds of Opal Spire.
The tentacles of the former Demon wrap around the limbs of the colossus. Black binds its wrists and ankles, and it grows to overshadow the immense, corrupted Alchemical.
"Holy shit," you whisper.
The skull face mask of the behemoth hovers over the colossus's own immense gaze, and the eyes flicker. Ray kicks off, taking the hint, and the blast of crimson light does not incinerate her as it bores into the soulsteel of the Colossus, shaking the ground beneath you, blasting rust from the floors.
"Keep it bound!" Sky yells, bringing back his sword, "Ruvelia, can you order him?"
"Zeruel, keep the creature bound," she says, hands folded at her waist, "The Dawn will destroy it."
Black wraps around the apostate, over and over again. Black rope like ebon spidersilk, it holds the injured apostate fast, holds it tight around it as Sky charges at it.
He leaps, the light flickering off of Sky Splitter's blade. He brings it forward, swings it as the anima flares, a great blade surrounding him as he drives the holy sword deep into the corrupted machine-
And then the legs and arms fall off the immense, body sized head. It drops to the ground, out of Zeruel's grip as the behemoth makes an inquisitve growl, and lands.
On a proportional neck.
"Ah," Autochthon says, "An optical cloak!"
And then the rest of it rises out of the brass and rust, where it had apparently been waiting. Standing its full length, full height, which you estimate to be around, oh, a hundred meters, it roars with madness and rage.
[ ]Run.
[ ]RUN.
[ ]FUCKING RUN.
[ ]Write in.