Of Gods Old and New
22st of July 2006 A.D.
"Block her magic," you call to the elemntal over the roaring of the dead. Whatever answer he might give, if he had even heard you you do not hear. The world does not so much slow as you dive off its stone back as it grows clearer, all that may have drawn you away within and without fading away in the rush of cold air. And cold is your purpose diving through the storm of forsaken souls,
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 5/12
Here a shield raises against against the rusted blade of a bayonet out of the Revolutionary War, there your sword clashing against a heavy meat cleaver, stitched on to a bloody arm in dreams of death. You hear the rattle of a Tommy Gun and turn aside bullets not of metal but just as lethal with instincts honed in wars beyond imagination. Whips cracks and fists fly, yet each meets its counter, it feels like and eternity, it is hardly a heartbeat.
Then at last you feel the stone under your feet, though you do not see it, from memory from guesswork you run, you almost slip, but you can feel the hollow heart of the storm above you, a thing so old in malice that even hatred had curdled into disdain for all that lives, so certain in its existence that it had deny an honest prayer spoken upon the Sword of Love.
She's already running behind the veil of its slaves, it has its prize and it does not mean to stay and fight...
Not fast enough
You tackle her by throwing your full weight against her back and looping the sword lopped around her low to the ground to sweep the legs from under her without cutting. With a final crack the worm-eaten railing breaks as 'Lydia' grasps for the broken end tearing her jacket to shreds as it catches.
The hard part for you is 'catching' the ground without any broken bones. Rolling until you are under her left hand outstretched shield and all to catch the ground.
Heck of a parry is that. It comes to as you bounce off it with your full weight while keeping your right arm looked around Lydia.
Through the mist you can see dad moving closer with Gard as his side trying to beat the dead off him, but to no avail, they seem to have only grown more savage from being denied the chance to hurt you, ripping and tearing and screaming in broken voices. Blood drips down your father's face, from his nose, from his ears and even from his eyes as he chants once more a prayer of exorcism the hilt of the sword growing brighter and brighter and brighter in his hands the nail painfully clear against the radiance.
Michael takes 5 Bashing Damage
"Never!" the thing inside Lydia screams with her voice harsh and dissonant. "I do not belong to Him, I belong to none!"
"Then I shall take ye!" Gard calls out, her voice harsh as a raven's caw as she slices runes of red fire in the air, the darkness bleeding the light of distant twilight
Lydia gives an ugly cough, you can feel it through her chest, though her bones as a lifeless vapor spills from her lips, not merely grey, but seeming to leech the color from the world as it emerges. You see, or think you see it form into the guise of a hooded figure, crescent scars along her cheeks, her eyes the color of bright jade, then she locks her hands one against the other in a mockery of prayer, a wind picks her up and she is gone.
You do not even have time to curse her escape as the maddened dead descend on you. They seem to know to fear the edge of your burning blade, but Gard is more willy slicing off the head of the man with the cleaver arm. And the Sword of Love? It burns all the brighter in the hands of a wounded knight, driving back the specters as a lantern drives back the shadows of evening. Where is touches there the dead are not.
Looking around you are surprised to see Cindy in the middle of a sort of 'fort' made from the body of your new elemental friend. She is pale and scared but otherwise none the worst for wear.
"We need to get out of here, now," Gard says grimly. "That many dead will have riled up every predator in this part of the Undercity."
"But... we
have to go after that thing or it will come back," you answer automatically.
"One wounded," she points at your dad. "One child..." then at Cindy. "And one unconscious scion that she might still have some affinity to reclaim depending on how she came to be there."
Dad looks like he very much wants to argue that he is still able to fight, but the blood on his face does not lie.
What do you do?
[] Argue to open a Way right now to chase after Capricorpus
-[] Write in stunt
[] Agree that it's more important to get everyone to safety
[] Write in
OOC: Michael just had the worst luck with those ghosts, though it was not helped by the fact that he cannot parry and exorcise because battle prayer like that really isn't his forte. If he did not have the sword as a focus he could not do it at all.