Re: [Closed] Depths Of Madness
Posted: Sun Jun 09, 2019 3:45 am
5th Ophus, 2718
THE DEEP | MID MORNING
THE DEEP | MID MORNING
Athrym screamed as the leathery, sinewy body slammed into the wall that Naul had put up, backing up with her fiance as her green eyes were wide with disbelief.
This was impossible. A hatcher, a beast of myth and legend, as old as time itself according to the tales told by the Anaxi. They had records, of course they had records, but they weren’t real. They were metaphorical monsters, childs horror tales to keep them in check.
Yet, here they were, barely visible in the dim glow of the spheres left in the crypt with gnashing teeth and elongated necks and wicked rending claws. The mist followed them as they moved out of the room, swirling against the red heads sphere and thickening as growls and hissing snarls echoed around them. The beast lunged again, and the blonde couldn’t think, her field a shattered mess. Nauleth’s voice pulled her from the panic, telling her what to do. They were alone now, the other galdori dead or gone, and at least two hatchers snarling in the mists.
“Breathing. Seeing. Yes.” The Gioran stammered, dragging herself together and finding the monite for Deep Vision, altering the last of the syllables to plead with the mona to encompass them both. Both of them would feel the rush of mona, as though the sentient particles themselves were relieved to be away from the strange tear that seemed to tug on their fields, and eagerly they responded to her spellwork. Eyes lighting up light glowing beacons, the couple would see the darkness around them brighten vividly, as though the middle of the day.
“Oh Gods—” The petite woman breathed, backing up as Naul moved, summer gaze flicking from the large murky grey beast that tried to breech the Wall, to the injured and bleeding one that struggled behind. More sounds came from the crypt as they stepped back onto the perilous ledge that led along the Maw.
More were coming.
Catching her breath, Athrym ignored the fear chewing through her as the vicious creature tried again and again to get through, and in a moment which she would think about later, it appeared as though intelligent thought ran through the beast. It looked like it would climb the sphere. She shouted the monite for Clean Air, filling their bubble of safety with fresh air to charge the mind and clean the lungs. As she ran, the woman felt the Anaxi let her go, stopping in her tracks and turning with terror.
“Naul! Imaan no, no, no!” She cried, watching the lead hatcher turn to the stone wall, it’s injured follower turning as if of one mind. One hive mind. They were going to go up the clocking rock! The taller man paused, speaking to her with effort and exertion, before he dragged his spellwork together to do something unfathomable. Something stupid.
“No don’t!” The pale Gioran cried in horror, feeling herself move back out of the sphere even as Nauleth bolsted it. The hatcher didn’t have any thoughts as it shared the space with the galdor, eyes glinting green in their enhanced vision. It opened its mouth wide and screeched a vile sound that hurt the ears, and sprang at the man, claws swiping at his side and teeth tearing through his opposite shoulder. The force of its lunge sent the creature toppling to one side, dragging teeth and claws down the man where it fell to the stone ground. It was just enough of the break they needed for the sphere to hold the beast and let Naul go. It snapped to its feet and slammed against the Wall, the Anaxi’s blood dripping from its mouth.
Feeling a surge within her chest, Athrym lifted both hands, physically gathering her field and the mona in tightly before barking the Push spell. The very dirt lifted from their path as her spell gathered everything around it and shoved hard forwards. Nauleth would stagger, should he still be standing, as the pressure rushed past him, and the hatcher screamed in rage as it rolled over the barrier and tumbled into the Maw. The second beast snarled, stumbling and falling lay on the rocky floor with short wet gasps as the Gioran ran to her partner.
“Oh my Gods, my Gods I…I…I don’t…” She stammered words, sliding to a stop beside the man and pressing her hands to the blood that was flowing from his side and his shoulder. The glow in their eyes was fading, and the air was stale.
This is where they would die.
“Naul. Naul I am so sorry I brought you down here. I am so clocking sorry. I didn’t know about the hatchers. No one knew. I…I’m so sorry!” The blonde sobbed, lifting her head as more snarls and growls sounded from the pathway they had come from. It was hard to tell how many were coming, but she couldn’t hold them off alone. Looking at the man, Athrym grabbed his hand tightly and closed her eyes, wishing she’d learned anything other than Living as a fucking major.
Quite suddenly, the room got warm. Not just warm, but hot.
The snarling was overshadowed by something else. A deep, rending, echoing sound that was something between a growl and boulders grinding together.
From behind closed eyelids, Athrym could see brightness of light, an orange glow that burned through the darkness. She opened her eyes, shielding them from the flicker of flames that burned orange and hot white in the space where the cavernous Maw once was.
“Imaan save us.” The Gioran whispered, hatchers forgotten and eyes locked on the vision before her. It was a great wolf, or at least that was the closest thing she could use to describe it, made of molten rock and thick black smoke. It’s eyes were fiery portals to the depths of eternity and its chest was skeletal, heart replaced with a great churning ball of fire. It stood taller than the side of the Maw, it’s head brushing the cathedral ceiling above them.
Daegerote.
The beast of legend turned its gaze upon the two galdori, and both of them would be filled with a sense of inspiration, a feeling of hope. Athrym blinked, looking away to her fiance and nodding rapidly.
“We’re going to get out of here.” She said forcefully, gathering her ramscott field with purpose. Focusing on the gash in his side, where the blood flowed most eagerly, the Gioran drew on her Living magic and called for the mona to Congeal the wound and cease the bloodflow. It would hurt, but not as much as the Stitch Wound she wove in. It needed cleaning, it needed pain relief, but right now it needed shutting. Her hand held his tighter, the other pressed against his ribs. Blood would clot, slowing from a torrent to an ooze to a seep, and the layers of skin would knit together, forcing the clots out as they did.
From the other side, the hatchers had stopped in their tracks, their green glowing eyes locked on the Daegerote as it looked down at them. There were no more sounds, save for the crackling of the hot flames that curled around the mythic beast, and the sound of Athrym’s casting. It seemed like eternity passed between the seconds that ticked over, before the hatchers seemed to make a decision. They hissed their displeasure, snarling at the galdori and the great beast, making feints as though wanting to run over and disembowel them.
“I need you to walk.” The blonde said, finally the syllables for Adrenaline as she tucked the man to her and started to move. Her voice lifted, and true to her people, the Gioran began to Echo Cast for Clean Air. She altered her tone, speaking deeper and more formally, opening her mouth wide and taking deep breaths of air so she could project clearly. The sound reverberated of the walls, bouncing around and collecting the mona as they moved, the air around them fresh and breathable. Athrym didn’t look back, keeping her eyes on the stairs as they walked, weaving in another burst of Deep Vision.
Behind them, the great flaming wolf held it’s ground, it’s presence a barrier in itself for the hatchers. They growled and hissed, violently angry that their hunt had been thwarted. One moved, leaping forwards, running up the trail towards the galdori as they began to climb upwards. The Daegerote rumbled, the sound of earthquakes, and with a shrieking cry the hatcher burst into flames. The others cried out, as though the pain of their brethren was their own pain, but no more did they try to attack.
“Just got to…keep walking.” The blonde said hollowly, her green eyes fixated on the path ahead, mind not willing to process what had just happened. Not yet, not till they were out of the Deep. In a daze, she moved, responding to Naul should he make a sound either to check his wounds or pause for a moment.
“Hello?!” A voice called out in the darkness ahead of them, some distance away. An unfamiliar voice in Estuan but holding a Gioran tongue. If both galdori looked up they would see pinpoints of torchlight.
This was impossible. A hatcher, a beast of myth and legend, as old as time itself according to the tales told by the Anaxi. They had records, of course they had records, but they weren’t real. They were metaphorical monsters, childs horror tales to keep them in check.
Yet, here they were, barely visible in the dim glow of the spheres left in the crypt with gnashing teeth and elongated necks and wicked rending claws. The mist followed them as they moved out of the room, swirling against the red heads sphere and thickening as growls and hissing snarls echoed around them. The beast lunged again, and the blonde couldn’t think, her field a shattered mess. Nauleth’s voice pulled her from the panic, telling her what to do. They were alone now, the other galdori dead or gone, and at least two hatchers snarling in the mists.
“Breathing. Seeing. Yes.” The Gioran stammered, dragging herself together and finding the monite for Deep Vision, altering the last of the syllables to plead with the mona to encompass them both. Both of them would feel the rush of mona, as though the sentient particles themselves were relieved to be away from the strange tear that seemed to tug on their fields, and eagerly they responded to her spellwork. Eyes lighting up light glowing beacons, the couple would see the darkness around them brighten vividly, as though the middle of the day.
“Oh Gods—” The petite woman breathed, backing up as Naul moved, summer gaze flicking from the large murky grey beast that tried to breech the Wall, to the injured and bleeding one that struggled behind. More sounds came from the crypt as they stepped back onto the perilous ledge that led along the Maw.
More were coming.
Catching her breath, Athrym ignored the fear chewing through her as the vicious creature tried again and again to get through, and in a moment which she would think about later, it appeared as though intelligent thought ran through the beast. It looked like it would climb the sphere. She shouted the monite for Clean Air, filling their bubble of safety with fresh air to charge the mind and clean the lungs. As she ran, the woman felt the Anaxi let her go, stopping in her tracks and turning with terror.
“Naul! Imaan no, no, no!” She cried, watching the lead hatcher turn to the stone wall, it’s injured follower turning as if of one mind. One hive mind. They were going to go up the clocking rock! The taller man paused, speaking to her with effort and exertion, before he dragged his spellwork together to do something unfathomable. Something stupid.
“No don’t!” The pale Gioran cried in horror, feeling herself move back out of the sphere even as Nauleth bolsted it. The hatcher didn’t have any thoughts as it shared the space with the galdor, eyes glinting green in their enhanced vision. It opened its mouth wide and screeched a vile sound that hurt the ears, and sprang at the man, claws swiping at his side and teeth tearing through his opposite shoulder. The force of its lunge sent the creature toppling to one side, dragging teeth and claws down the man where it fell to the stone ground. It was just enough of the break they needed for the sphere to hold the beast and let Naul go. It snapped to its feet and slammed against the Wall, the Anaxi’s blood dripping from its mouth.
Feeling a surge within her chest, Athrym lifted both hands, physically gathering her field and the mona in tightly before barking the Push spell. The very dirt lifted from their path as her spell gathered everything around it and shoved hard forwards. Nauleth would stagger, should he still be standing, as the pressure rushed past him, and the hatcher screamed in rage as it rolled over the barrier and tumbled into the Maw. The second beast snarled, stumbling and falling lay on the rocky floor with short wet gasps as the Gioran ran to her partner.
“Oh my Gods, my Gods I…I…I don’t…” She stammered words, sliding to a stop beside the man and pressing her hands to the blood that was flowing from his side and his shoulder. The glow in their eyes was fading, and the air was stale.
This is where they would die.
“Naul. Naul I am so sorry I brought you down here. I am so clocking sorry. I didn’t know about the hatchers. No one knew. I…I’m so sorry!” The blonde sobbed, lifting her head as more snarls and growls sounded from the pathway they had come from. It was hard to tell how many were coming, but she couldn’t hold them off alone. Looking at the man, Athrym grabbed his hand tightly and closed her eyes, wishing she’d learned anything other than Living as a fucking major.
Quite suddenly, the room got warm. Not just warm, but hot.
The snarling was overshadowed by something else. A deep, rending, echoing sound that was something between a growl and boulders grinding together.
From behind closed eyelids, Athrym could see brightness of light, an orange glow that burned through the darkness. She opened her eyes, shielding them from the flicker of flames that burned orange and hot white in the space where the cavernous Maw once was.
“Imaan save us.” The Gioran whispered, hatchers forgotten and eyes locked on the vision before her. It was a great wolf, or at least that was the closest thing she could use to describe it, made of molten rock and thick black smoke. It’s eyes were fiery portals to the depths of eternity and its chest was skeletal, heart replaced with a great churning ball of fire. It stood taller than the side of the Maw, it’s head brushing the cathedral ceiling above them.
Daegerote.
The beast of legend turned its gaze upon the two galdori, and both of them would be filled with a sense of inspiration, a feeling of hope. Athrym blinked, looking away to her fiance and nodding rapidly.
“We’re going to get out of here.” She said forcefully, gathering her ramscott field with purpose. Focusing on the gash in his side, where the blood flowed most eagerly, the Gioran drew on her Living magic and called for the mona to Congeal the wound and cease the bloodflow. It would hurt, but not as much as the Stitch Wound she wove in. It needed cleaning, it needed pain relief, but right now it needed shutting. Her hand held his tighter, the other pressed against his ribs. Blood would clot, slowing from a torrent to an ooze to a seep, and the layers of skin would knit together, forcing the clots out as they did.
From the other side, the hatchers had stopped in their tracks, their green glowing eyes locked on the Daegerote as it looked down at them. There were no more sounds, save for the crackling of the hot flames that curled around the mythic beast, and the sound of Athrym’s casting. It seemed like eternity passed between the seconds that ticked over, before the hatchers seemed to make a decision. They hissed their displeasure, snarling at the galdori and the great beast, making feints as though wanting to run over and disembowel them.
“I need you to walk.” The blonde said, finally the syllables for Adrenaline as she tucked the man to her and started to move. Her voice lifted, and true to her people, the Gioran began to Echo Cast for Clean Air. She altered her tone, speaking deeper and more formally, opening her mouth wide and taking deep breaths of air so she could project clearly. The sound reverberated of the walls, bouncing around and collecting the mona as they moved, the air around them fresh and breathable. Athrym didn’t look back, keeping her eyes on the stairs as they walked, weaving in another burst of Deep Vision.
Behind them, the great flaming wolf held it’s ground, it’s presence a barrier in itself for the hatchers. They growled and hissed, violently angry that their hunt had been thwarted. One moved, leaping forwards, running up the trail towards the galdori as they began to climb upwards. The Daegerote rumbled, the sound of earthquakes, and with a shrieking cry the hatcher burst into flames. The others cried out, as though the pain of their brethren was their own pain, but no more did they try to attack.
“Just got to…keep walking.” The blonde said hollowly, her green eyes fixated on the path ahead, mind not willing to process what had just happened. Not yet, not till they were out of the Deep. In a daze, she moved, responding to Naul should he make a sound either to check his wounds or pause for a moment.
“Hello?!” A voice called out in the darkness ahead of them, some distance away. An unfamiliar voice in Estuan but holding a Gioran tongue. If both galdori looked up they would see pinpoints of torchlight.