Tenith'oru vs Agith'tai

Kresslack

For those not able to be in attendance, this is everything I logged from the unfolding events of today, which resulted in the revealing of the new class, Depthswalker. Thanks to @Prythe for filling in the bits that happened in Cyrene's lab.

http://pastebin.com/wuU7sEHW

(Was much too long to post in full.)

Edit: Pastebin provided for full thing, and was able to split into two posts below.

Kresslack

[ Aan'lier comes to make an attempt to take Blu, the Cyrenian Guadian]

Aan'lier's head has been chomped off by Patroklos's jack-in-the-box.

A shriek of childish panic echoes over Cyrene, the terrified tones resounding of 

the looming mountains to create a cacophony of frenzied echoes.

[Agith'tai then makes an attempt]

A satisfied lullabye lilts over the world.

Relief fills you as the somnolent tones of the Litany directed have no effect 

upon yourself. In spite of her thrall state, a child's whimper, an extraordinary 

act of defiance, can be heard.

[ Roughly a hundred people die to Litany]

With Agith'tai's repellent act accomplished, the strange song ceases.

[Tenith'oru paces within the lab of Cyrene]

Tenith'oru paces impatiently back and forth.

Tenith'oru says, ".... offering protection."

Tenith'oru spits on the ground in disgust.

Tenith'oru creases his brow in a frown.

Kosuira's scream resounds again, this time as much psychic as sound as the 

girl's helpless form is forced beyond a ruby barrier.

[ It's discovered that Kosuira has been taken away by Agith'tai, to a place beyond an impenetrable barrier.]

The violence of the mental strain shatters the child sorceress' psyche, the 

power unleashed submitting all to partake in her torture, ensuring all bear 

witness through her tortured eyes.

Tenith'oru barely chokes back a gasp, attempting to conceal any emotion.

Tenith'oru gives a pained sigh.

[Tenith'oru leaves Cyrene, making his way to the lower levels of Azdun]

A carnivorous lycopod has plunged the finely shredded remains of Felicia into 

its acidic secretions. [Bye Felicia]

A scream of anguish reverberates up through the earth from the lower levels of 

Azdun dungeon.

[Great skittering noise of spiders is heard in the lower Azdun levels as the fog is pushed back]

A scream of anguish reverberates up through the earth from the lower levels of 

Azdun dungeon. [Second one]

Unphased by the ruddy barrier, Tenith'oru steps into the chamber, a scythe of 

darkness manifesting in his hand between one step and the next.

The Blue Fang seems entirely unconcerned, studying the broken form of Kosuira, 

not sparing his elder even the briefest glance.

Letting loose a snarl, Tenith'oru closes with Agith'tai, swinging his scythe two-

handed at the Tsol'teth's unguarded head.

Agith'tai casually steps aside into a shadow, rematerialising behind Tenith'oru 

and sending him sprawling with a savage blow from the haft of his weapon.

Grey light flares around Tenith'oru, and he is suddenly on his feet again, blade 

coming down in a devastating overhand blow from Agith'tai's blindspot.

Contorting his body in an unnatural display of flexibility, Agith'tai allows the 

strike to pass scant inches in front of him, the power-wrought blade striking a 

shower of sparks from the stone floor of the chamber.

The two exchange a flurry of strikes, but Agith'tai is clearly the superior 

warrior; his form flawless while Tenith'oru slows moment by moment.

Agith'tai is a blur of motion, scythe striking beyond the ability of any mortal 

fighter to perceive. There seems almost to be multiple versions of him as he 

attacks his adversary from every angle.

As Tenith'oru stumbles back under the relentless assault, Agith'tai lashes out 

with his free hand, ebon claws of shadow raking twin furrows down the face of 

the elderly Tsol'teth. The wounds steam, black smoke rising from the incisions.

The harsh whisper of Agith'tai provokes instinctive terror as it glides across 

the realm, "Divine Death did die by my design. You, a nameless castoff, thought 

yourself my better? You thought to come here and pit yourself against a true 

scion of Agith'maal?"

Slowly, almost wonderingly, Tenith'oru lifts a pale fingered hand to touch the 

blood streaming down his face. A manic gleam enters his eyes, and he steps clear 

of his would-be executioner.

In a quiet voice that carries across the globe, Tenith'oru speaks, "Your 

better?"

Tenith'oru contemptuously tosses his scythe to the ground at Agith'tai's feet.

In a quiet voice that carries across the globe, Tenith'oru speaks, "You are 

insignificant."

The aged Tsol'teth lets his cloak fall to the ground, revealing him in all his 

frailty. Near-skeletal thin, bones protrude, casting stark shadows across his 

near-translucent skin.

Even as the dark cloth flutters to the ground, Tenith'oru reaches his hand to 

the side, an oppressive weight descending upon Achaea.

In a quiet voice that carries across the globe, Tenith'oru speaks, "You have 

taken from me, aberration. Taken what is mine. You are but a mewling sibling 

disported in castoffs."

In a quiet voice that carries across the globe, Tenith'oru speaks, "I have 

burned the world for less."

Kresslack

In a quiet voice that carries across the globe, Tenith'oru speaks, "I claim my 

birthright. Come to me, my curse. I command it."

A golden glow begins to shine within Tenith'oru's empty hand, his face twisting 

into a rictus of fury even as he becomes suffused with youth.

Agith'tai seems suddenly alarmed, he lunges forward, weapon poised to open 

Tenith'oru's throat.

In a quiet voice that carries across the globe, Tenith'oru speaks, "Obey!"

A hush falls over Achaea as the golden glow coalesces, a long staff of wood 

forming in Tenith'oru's grasp. With reflexes far surpassing what he had achieved 

previously, the Tsol'teth parries aside Agith'tai's thrust, driving the Blue 

Fang away with an almost negligent flick of the Staff of Nicator.

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "I conquered death before your forefathers had even 

conceived the notion was possible."

Even as Seleucar's Doom spoke, the staff in his grasp changed beneath his hands; 

its length twisted and bent, writhing in its summoner's iron grip, striations of 

darkness replaced gilded grain, the mottled patches of Tsol'teth power growing 

and roiling, even the diamonds at its head exploded, one after another, like 

firecrackers.

The wielded power blasts away the robes from the ancient Tsol'teth revealing the 

features not seen for centuries. His skin is pure grey, like clouds on a sunless 

day, his armour is blackened iron, carved in demonic patterns, and his cold red 

eyes burn with hatred.

The harsh whisper of Agith'tai provokes instinctive terror as it glides across 

the realm, "... Morain-doma."

The half rajamala lowers his weapon, a mad laughter bubbling up from within his 

throat.

The harsh whisper of Agith'tai provokes instinctive terror as it glides across 

the realm, "It is true! Perfection is within reach!"

Parni deSangre raises the Staff of Nicator, levelling it at the exultant 

Tsol'teth.

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "End."

Without fanfare, Agith'tai disintegrates under the staff's unleashed power, the 

only remnant of him the echoes of his laughter that slowly fade from the 

underhalls of Azdun.

Having done the unthinkable, Parni deSangre has annihilated Agith'tai from 

existence, both body and soul alike.

The spread of the Tide falters, the flow ebbing to a halt.

As the final echoes of Agith'tai's laughter fade, Parni hurries to the broken 

form of Kosuira. A mere twitch of the Staff of Nicator turn her shackles to dust,

and he scoops her into his arms.

Glancing around Agith'tai's tomb for a final time, Parni makes a cutting motion 

with the symbol of his office, the tip of the staff tracing a doorway in mid air 

that looks out upon the Sangre Plains.

Parni and Kosuira pass through the portal, the gateway sealing behind them 

without visible input from its creator.

[A handful of people perish at a mere glance from Parni deSangre.]

<I did not arrive in time to catch his first words. If you have them, please message me.>

Parni deSangre says, "Is it now too late?"

Parni deSangre says, "But you were my light among a world of shadows. I would 

burn Seleucar twice over to spare you this end."

The Child Sorceress Kosuira has succumbed to her wounds upon the deSangre Plains.

Parni pauses, staring down at the corpse in his arms. Slowly, the ancient man 

turns his face to the skies.

Parni deSangre says, "I believed losing my right to die was the worst the Logos 

could curse me with."

Parni deSangre says, "I was wrong."

You see Parni deSangre shout, "I refuse to be robbed again!"

The last spawn of Nicator raises the staff above his head, madness clearly 

written upon his face.

You see Parni deSangre shout, "Take them, so that she may live! A feast for 

Death!"

The Staff blazes incandescent in his grasp, a twisting streak of liquid light 

that bathes the deSangre Plains in a judgmental glow.

You feel your life draining from you, age encroaching at a terrifying rate. Your 

muscles grow weak and your thoughts clouded even as Kosuira draws breath once 

more.

[ People start getting younger as their life is drained by Parni's spell.]

A ragged scream of loss tears from Parni's time-ravaged throat as he casts 

caution aside and throws open his own mind.

A jolt of power wracks your body as you are thrown into a torrent of memory and 

sensation. All is clouded with an agonising grief and an utter grey of 

loneliness, lit only by a gleaming strand of ice blue hope.

Inept at the meld you bear mute witness as the telltale threads of Kosuira and 

Parni deSangre finally share. Without pride or shame you witness all, the fall 

of Seleucar, a child's relief at being rescued in the snow, lives shared in 

lessons, in cold caves.

Kosuira's tiny hand shifts, pale knuckles whitening as she briefly squeezes 

Parni's slender fingers.

As the stolen life is expended, Kosuira once again slips into death, leaving the 

mad Emperor without a kingdom to grieve alone upon his namesake's plains.

You feel your life draining from you, age encroaching at a terrifying rate. Your 

muscles grow weak and your thoughts clouded even as Kosuira draws breath once 

more.

The Child Sorceress Kosuira has slipped into death eternal.

Leaning heavily on the Staff of Nicator, Parni stands and stares down at the 

corpse of his apprentice.

Parni deSangre says, "They have played us well indeed."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "Hear me, Tsol'teth!"

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "No-one ever accused Parni deSangre of not understanding 

spite."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "You struck at me for daring to teach mine the arts that I 

have more right to than your bastard amalgamations."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "You left me to live in the light, scorned by and absent of 

the melds you share."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "And yet I am your blueprint?"

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "I think not."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "I shall unwind all you have accomplished. I will share 

your secrets. You too will feel the glaring light of loss."

As the grieving wielder raises the Staff of Nicator, you feel a great pressure 

weighing down upon your mind. For a single, terrible instant, Parni deSangre 

holds the entirety of Achaea in a meld, their minds linked to his in a steely 

vice.

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "I gift you knowledge, Achaea. Do with it what you will."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "Take command of the shadows. The forbidden arts of bending 

time to one's will. The lost art of Terminus."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "The arts of the Depthswalker, as passed down by the 

Overlords three."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "Maybe one of you will survive."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "As for you, my abhorrent kin..."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "Enjoy these, your final days of mortality."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "I shall tear down all that you have built."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "From your greatest warriors to the lowliest child."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "As before, so it will be again, naught but rubble will 

remain."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "Achaea, your ignorance will not frustrate my vengeance."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "These Tsol'teth are driven not by rage or madness."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "Clear purpose and calculated risk incite their every move.

"

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "The Blue Fang spoke of the Endbringer's doom through his 

determined plots."

Like steel on stone, the preternatural tones of Parni deSangre thunder 

throughout Creation, "The Blue Fang spoke of the Endbringer's doom through his 

determined plots."

You look on in astonishment as the corpse of Kosuira, the child sorceress fades 

away into the ether.

With a sweeping gesture of his Staff, Parni deSangre creates a mausoleum of ice 

to entomb the frail remains of his protege.

Parni deSangre says, "I have no more stomach for this parade. I shall go home, 

and then, into the dark."

With a weary sigh, Parni deSangre releases the Staff of Nicator, allowing it to fall to the ground.

Drawing himself up to his full height, Parni deSangre speaks a terrible word of 

power and fades from existence.

Shirszae

I pretty much bawled when the sorceress kid died

Loalaine

Thankyou 

Aegoth

Did Parni ask @Jarrod to borrow that, even? Like... how rude

Sarathai

Aegoth said:

Did Parni ask @Jarrod to borrow that, even? Like... how rude

Well, he's of the line of Nicator, and his HONOURS says that he was its last true wielder.

Presumably, that means he can take it back whenever he wants, and all the wielders in "modern" times have just been "custodians" or something similar. Basically, he is its rightful wielder, not somebody who wins a few contests every fifty years.

Jayden

Shirszae said:

I pretty much bawled when the sorceress kid died

This, I really tried not to let it show IC, but thiiiiis.

Klendathu

The memorable part of the whole thing was somone asking on Ashtan CT, "Who or what is Nicator anyway?" I won't name and shame, but much incredulity prevailed from the onlookers.

Kresslack

Klendathu said:

The memorable part of the whole thing was somone asking on Ashtan CT, "Who or what is Nicator anyway?" I won't name and shame, but much incredulity prevailed from the onlookers.

This makes me believe it was a somewhat seasoned player, and that would be a shame.

Nazihk

Klendathu said:

The memorable part of the whole thing was somone asking on Ashtan CT, "Who or what is Nicator anyway?" I won't name and shame, but much incredulity prevailed from the onlookers.

*raises hand*

I had to ask who this Parni deSangre guy was.