Dungeon Crawl Log

[Hannah Green]

Spellcarver stepped out into the open air of the strange world, eye scanning the sky, looking at the decaying path of the orbiting moons with a sad expression. He lifted his hands to the sky and called out a word, impossible to pronounce and even harder to remember once spoken, it was a Name. The sky opened up, and from the hole fell a coffin. It landed standing up near the party before it slowly fell open, and out came a skeletal figure. As it walked, it fleshed out into the form of a human being, and for a brief instant it looked back at all of them and smiled a wicked smile: It was a younger version of Spell. "My friends!" It boomed in a voice half the planet could hear. "It feels soooooo good to be back again!" The instant the voice faded, the face of the figure blurred, as did the body. It began to split as it walked, replicating, until there was an army of the same figure moving forward. [c]

Though not all advanced, where they passed, nothing remained, trees, plants, even rocks seemed to wither, leaving deep scars in the earth that continued to crack down into the planet's surface. Some of the figures collapsed into fits of horrific mad giggleing and laughing, holding their sides, the horrible dry laughter filling the air as ever more of them came from the one that had fallen from the sky. Others sobbed, some just stared blankly. Those who did not move forward eventually exploaded in a shower of black sparks, and where those fell, black bubbling goo sprung up and began to break down more of the planet. An army of people had gathered at the sound of the voice, and they all wailed in protest and dismay. When even one of the figures reached them, all that could be seen was a mass of bodies flying into the air in pieces.

The question of who was with the party, was it the real Spellcarver, or was that terrible creature in the coffin the real thing, went unanswered as the Eternal Man turned with that sad, remourseful expression on his face. "Lets go." He said in a croak of dismay. "I don't want to watch this any more than you do." Just as he said that, the Spellcarver that had come from the coffin lifted into the air and cried, "SOPHUNAUGHTINNUGO! FROM THE DARKNESS I CALL TO YOU MY LORD!" Another portal opened, but they wouldn't see the terror that came from the sky this time, Spellcarver was rushing them into a portal he had opened, saving them from a fate the adventurers couldn't even imagin. When they arrived back in Nasmara The Black Court was waiting. Spellcarver was rushed away...crying? Who knew? He certainly hadn't looked happy, and one could nearly see tears in his eye.

[kryodrache]

((Exit Post; Added later, since everyone popped back before the follow-up RP home))

Morbax listened.

It was all he could do.

He witnessed only flashes of monochromatic, reflected light as the hordes of Spellcarver's minions bounded off across the terrain of the dying world... ensuring its destruction. The end of a world. There were families here, on this failing land... there had to be. There were lives.... he knew that much. He had seen some of them. From people he never met, people he would never meet.... possibly looking strange in appearance, strange in culture... but sporting some similarities, as well. Children. Fathers, mothers. Criminals. Heroes.

All of which.... were going to be wiped out, this night.

All of them.

And yet all he could do... was watch. He had helped to ensure this would occur, for the sake of saving other worlds that would likely go down along with this one. But that did not make it any easier. His imagination escaped him, as he heard the alternating minions of Spellcarver laughing, sobbing, clamoring, his comrades nearby as they, too, witnessed the death of a world. And, to Morbax, it would feel as though a cold hand was clenching itself over his chest, over a heart that was no longer beating. It struck him to his core, a blow that would be ever irreversible, to the point it felt that he would never be happy again.... had never been happy.

Morbax started to tremble.... a minor action at first, which started to build up, until the man was shaking. Pure, animal fear... solid despair. He knew he would be able to leave this world rather than join it... but that innate healer's sympathy did not come without consequence. Morbax was struck with a blow of grief heavy enough to make the man hunch forward, shoulders tensing, horn-adorned head dipping low. He was the last to enter the portal, the last to remain in the area... and thus, was the only one to hear the one strangled sob that escaped him, brow compressed over the mask's false eyes that could never offer a tear.

It was a strange, draining feeling... a black hole that opened up around him, smothering him in it. Echoes of his past, thus locked away for many uncountable years.... started to rise. He heard the screams of his own people, of other people he had fought for, of the people he had fought against. He heard their terror, their despair, that massive loss of hope, and it all became his own, as he matched that communal fear to what was occuring right now... in front of him. And it was at that moment he was glad he was blind. Glad that he didn't have to stay here, and watch all of this.

But he could still hear.

And he would always hear it.

Always.