Looking towards these cultists who come closer, he takes a frown and turns it upside down. He looks towards the blades, unsheathing them with his Quickdraw, and moves forward to attack one of them, feeling more in tune with his anger as he can't stand the heat for too much longer, giving into temptation. "Avast ye blasphemous curr! I'll hang your scimitar from your gizzard and leave you to rot if you're an insidious and honorless dog!" He thinks about how the blades aught to enjoy this show of bloodshed, happy to oblige them at this moment, "And I'll take your symbol too, mate."

Chalybis

Chalybis only saw shadows above. He occasionally saw movement, but it was gone too quickly before he could react.

As he got deeper into the city, a feeling which could only be called dread descended upon him. Nothing allowed itself to be seen. This area of Tushmuthut seemed to be empty.. but he knew that it could not. In the distance, he could still hear the cries: "Tchal Habbis!"

The Boy Hero & The Pirate Lord & The Psychokinetic Assassin & Lord of Terre Morte

Desafon's blades flashed like lightning, slicing clean the arm off one cultist and slashing his throat in one clear motion. The pirate talk really only made him seem more menacing, and he truly felt the value of the Blades of Efficiency.. was sure - maybe? - that he would've missed the cultist that first time, but the blade seemed to curve slightly inwards, removing the man of his own arm and blade..

Max's wind strike split another cultist in two, his gory remains splattering upon the white sands, but another cultist lunged at him, piercing his heart with the silver blade. Max's eyes went wide, and he slumpt to the ground, the Master Divine Sword wailing.. only to pick himself back up in a bolt of red fire as the Fierce God and tear the man's eyes out with his bare hands. As the cultist screamed, he was silence by the Fierce God's broad strike to the stomach.

Crailek barely managed to parry the vicious strikes of the cultist, whose eyes were wild and mouth frothed, and he felt the serious strain. He made no ground, either, flailing wildly at the antagonist as sweat poured down his face. As he was busy parrying another well-executed blow, his took a misstep, and stumbled a little - allowing another cultist, face leering, to swing his blade down. Crailek tried to parry, but lost his right arm in the attempt - it was a simple bloody stumb, the shadow sword withering away in the harsh rays of the sun..

Foun parried the first blow of the cultist, but it was pretty evenly matched - he might have been killed if it wasn't for the psychoportation, which allowed him to get the drop on his enemy, appearing behind him so that his throat could be slit. Foun's head hurt - the combination of heat and psychic abilities wasn't a beneficial one for his strained mind.

There was something about this place that unnerved Chalybis, some vague but dreadful notion of a prophetic nature that rang through the empty streets with the continuing cries of His mispronounced name. He felt that He was not quite alone within this place, surrounded by unseen beings that hid from His sight within the deep shadows cast by the towering spires. It seemed that He was not the supreme being within this place - far from it indeed - and that was a very unpleasant sensation for a being like Chalybis. Still, He was not intent on giving in to any of these dreadful 'feelings'; He had come here with a reason, and would not depart again before He had found what He was looking for.

He marched on through the streets of stone, unhindered by the trivial emotions that were attempting to wear Him down from within and freed from the endless sandstorms that raged outside of the city. As He continued to follow the sound of the cries that called out to Him, His gaze continued to sweep back and forth over the utterly lifeless buildings around Him, certain that there was something amongst them which awaited His discovery. He felt that it would not be long before He would learn what all of this strange situation entailed; the white city in the eternal desert, its black-clad occupants, the deity that ruled this place, and of course, the name Chal Habbis...


OOC: I bet Crailek wishes he was here. :P

The Fierce God immediately set upon the two cultists assaulting Crailek, cleaving them both in twain with a single slash from very large sword. He then picked up Crailek's arm and pressed against the stump, healing the two back together with Life magic.

A headache brewing already he continues to fight, but to make things easier he focuses on the heart for a moment. Feeling the beat of it and suddenly he begans to glow and when he opens his eyes he smiles continuing the fight with new vigor. Although he doesn't exactly appear to be himself anymore using more skill with the blade then before as he too goes after those attacking crailek.

((Would certainly be better then the current situation, sadly, Mister Habbis.))

Crailek looks up at the Fierce God in confusion, and sets together a string of random curses under his breath to express his feelings, then pushes himself back up onto his feet. He looks around to see if there are any more living enemies, as they all seemed to have been fairly dispatched by those not especially skilled at failing, such as Crailek seemed at the moment.

     Desafon looks to see if there are any other opponents around, looking forward to fighting if there are any. Otherwise, he'll sheath his blades (or attempt to if they are feisty), and search the body of the one he killed. "I hate bloody cultists."

Chalybis

Chalybis soon enters a pure white courtyard, the central fountain spitting fine sand instead of water. The shadows are deepest here, the pavement well-crafted, as if recently, beneath Chalybis's feet. The sun is obscured, and while it is still quite warm a chill passes through Chalybis..

There is a gathering of darkness.

Behind him..

"Tchal Habbis. I will admit, you have always been the most courageous of my enemies."

The Schizophrenic Kid, The Lunatic Sorcerer, The Pirate With Anger Issues and The Battered Shadowman

The shining blade of the Fierce God shimmers, swerves, shimmers again.. and cuts the cultists in twain, it's elongated blade slashing their innards with ease. Black robes drenched with crimson blood fall to the ground. The sand is stained red. The overwhelming silence of the desert returns.

The Fierce God then picks up Crailek's arm, attaching it to matching bloody stump, and attempts to heal it. Nothing happens. Crailek himself is in agony, and losing blood really doesn't help.. he could feel the sun beating down, ruining him, taking the precious moisture.. see black dots dancing around his vision..

Sighing heavily, Crailek passes out.

Foun, it is assumed, rushes to his side.

(I have magician-level Life magic..)

The fierce god sighed, dropping the arm and letting a lick of flame cauterize the wound, before channeling life energy into Crailek to heal him.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:20, Fri 23 Oct 2009.

As He heard the voice appear behind Him, Chalybis allowed His gaze to spin around within His head until it shone out from the back in the direction of the sound. He had already established that the powerful divine entity was rather close by now - presumably it was the being that stood right behind Him at this very moment. It was addressing Him as its enemy - which was somewhat concerning - but so far it had not undertaken any offensive actions against Him yet, and He would not be the first to do so in this vile place. It could probably destroy Him with ease now, but in doing so He would be made far stronger than this vile fiend could ever imagine...

II: Chalybis - an unnaturally strong emphasis resounded on His name this time, echoing about far longer than it should before eventually fading out - Is The Enemy Of Countless Insignificant Beings Across The Entirety Of Both Time And Space And Even Of The Organizations That Rule The Current Universe So If You Feel You Are More Worthy Than One Of Them You Should Further Specify Your Identity To Elevate Yourself Above The Infinite Others Who Dare To Oppose The Might Of Chalybis - and again, His name echoed throughout the city, leaving no doubt as to how it was to sound when spoken.

Whilst He awaited the response of His presumed enemy, His body began to reform somewhat, gradually changing so that the front became the back and vice versa, allowing Him to turn around without actually having to move away from His location at all. He was expecting an attack by the being any moment now, but when it came He would be more than prepared for it. If this greater being dared to attack Him right now, its powers would become His to wield forever thereafter, instantly levelling the battlefield during their inevitable next encounter...

Crailek lays there in unconsciousness.

He concentrates his aura into crailek to help in anyway he can. I have no healing abilities, but I am not stupid. Someone take one of their selves to the market or some other place we need to get him medicine NOW. You He points to the fierce diety, continue doing that, but we need to get him to the shadows it will help trust me. He needs to be in darkness. Then turning to the pirate, Your realm is a chain of islands on the sea use paradox grab a large amount of water and bring it through paradox here. He'll need that as well to cool down. Don't forget to get some medicine and we're probably going to need the necessary items for a ritual to reattach his arm. If we can't do that then I can craft a decent replacement or find someone who can. Already in his thoughts he knows who that person would be.

Chalybis

There stood Osiris-Ra, black cloak billowing about him in response to some unfelt breeze. His iron mask was curled in a mocking scowl.

Chalybis felt a twinge of fear, and then it was gone.

"Tell me, old enemy," spoke Osiris-Ra. "Why are you here? Why shouldn't I kill you now?"

"I confess to dearly missing conversation, and enjoying the interactions between myself and my lessers.. forgive me if I do not seem my typical brutal self."

The Schizophrenic Kid, The Lunatic Sorcerer, The Pirate With Anger Issues and The Battered Shadowman

Still, the wound did not heal. It would take more, the Fierce Deity knew, then sheer stubbornness. His magical might was not powerful enough. He would need salt untouched by man, thirteen liters of boiled water, and fresh maple leaves for the operation..

Crailek began twitching rapidly. The heat was getting to him. He'd soon be dead from loss of liquid if something wasn't done soon..

This was a somewhat strange situation for Chalybis. The being before Him - owner of this realm and obviously a divine of great power - claimed that He was one of its greatest enemies, yet it appeared to be mostly intent on conversing with Him right now. Whilst Chalybis could not deny that speaking with the divine was likely to be preferable to being destroyed by it, the whole thing seemed to be somewhat suspicious. Furthermore, the being did have a certain point; why had He come here in the first place considering it was such a hostile environment that did not seem to possess anything of interest to Him? This had to mean something...

III: Chalybis Cannot Explain The Reason For His Presence Within This Realm To You At This Moment But He Assures You Whoever You Might Be That Any Attempts At The Vanquishing Of Chalybis Shall Only Lead To An Increase Of His Might And The Inevitable Destruction Of Those Who Dared To Defy Him So It Would Be In Your Best Interest Not To Attempt Any Such Things He decreed after some time, not so much lying as He was exaggerating. The other divine seemed to know why Chalbyis was here, and He was now intent on finding out what that was.

He was not completely satisfied with the way things were going right now though, for the other also appeared to be somewhat better informed as to the events that had come to pass in the past, events which He had long since forgotten completely during His nigh-eternal disappearance from this reality. Because of that, He 'needed' the him mostly alive to acquire this information. However, Chalybis was rather offended by the mention of Him as a 'lesser' being, something for which the other divine would dearly pay soon enough...

The Fierce God pulled the needed ingredients from within his cloth wrappings; thirteen liters of boiled water, fresh maple leaves, and a bag of salt that had never been touched by anything, to be honest. He then began to go about the ritual, clearly enunciating words from a long-dead language as he did so.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:26, Sun 25 Oct 2009.

     Desafon grumbles about the comment about going and paying for medicine for someone he doesn't even know, "Unfortunately my paradox in my realm is currently fighting a Mad God, please bear with me for a moment." He says, looking upon Crailek, "If there was something I could do at the moment, I would... unfortunately I'm committed in my tasks at the moment. I can't really break free." He grumbles, though he tries to see if these cultists happen to have any liquid on them such as water... though nothing at all of tea.
     He looks to Faun, "I can portal him to my realm, however, to cool him down... and then back, perhaps that would work?" He asks, though knowing that this realm is different than his, thus no doubt a different paradox might visit his realm.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:02, Tue 27 Oct 2009.

Chalybis

Chalybis got a response.

It wasn't verbal.

It did, however, involve a single maniac Machine God suddenly turning into several thousand liters of sand.

As Chalybis died, a single thought arose in his mind: Desolace.

The Petty Thief and Co.

Just as the Fierce God had seemingly conjured several things out of his mysterious portal, there was a flash of red light and where the Fierce Deity had once dwelled sat only Max, the water, salt, and leaves next to him.

Desafon cannot easily take what he wanted to take, and does not.

     Desafon looks towards the body that he had killed and takes the symbol off of it. He looks towards the others to see if they happen to be taking their own kills' symbols. "I don't know what to do in the sake of your friend. I'm still fighting against a Mad God in my realm, albeit I believe he had switched to some form of weather form or perhaps an eclipse." He sighs, looking towards the others, waiting to see what he can do.

Growling he wasn't about to let something horrible happen to crailek. He needed something anything to help him and out of desperation he looks about observing the area. Only his green eye is glowing now he's looking for shade or anything that might help a hand on crailek he's ready to portal him out of here and into his realm if necessary. Think of something and quick anything will do. He's mumbling a tear starting to well he couldn't handle seeing crailek die.

Oh You Crazy Pirate (and co.)

There is shouting from the white city, and Desafon counts eight or nine shadowy blurs in the distance: cultists, no doubt. Some of them have streaks of red or silver paint on their robes, probably a sign of rank.. they certainly looked more menacing.

Crailek started to twitch more violently. He was not in a good way..

Max, at a loss of what to do,  fanned Crailek's face with the maple leaves and splattered the cold water all over his body, getting him rather wet. He tore off a piece of Crailek's cloting and wetted it, pressing it against his forehead. He also poured some water into crailek mouth and made him swallow, then did it again. <blue>"Get him out of here, Foun. Make sure he gets lots of water."

Max made sure the wound was cauterized, then stepped back.

Foun nodded he'd teleport crailek to his realm there care would come quicker and easier. Psychoporting crailek to his realm and the self in his realm.

     Desafon grins, looking at the arriving Cultists, half-whispering/half-singing with a smile, ~What will you do with the drunken cultist?~ He looks towards his two blades again, drawing them swiftly before he turns to the others, "We're having company again." He looks to them, "At least this time I'll get to take down more than one." He begins to feel his blood pumping again, "This is more fun than my realm at the moment." He says this, setting himself for a charge as soon as they get close enough. "Which is the higher ranked?" He asks, hoping for a quick answer. If so, he'll charge that one.

The Vaguely Repentent Boy and Co.

Crailek flickered and was gone - teleported to another Realm. There was an illegal psychic among them - obviously Foun. Foun himself remained. Since there was an incarnation already in the Isles of Penta, Crailek would be fine until the paradox hit - but when it hit it would hit hard.

The cultists were close now. Three had two streaks of silver; a single one had four - obviously a sign of rank. Four were unmarked; eight in total. Obviously a sign of rank..

"Almadahbs'Ra!" screamed the four-painted one, and the trio were thrown into combat. Desafon felt the Blades of Efficiency tingle as he flung towards the cultist with four marks, but - to a small amount of surprise - felt both blades be parried.

     Finding himself in the thick of combat, Desafon let out a loud "Desafon'Ra! Whatever the bloody hell that means!" He shouts out at the cultist as he intends to continue with his great fight, channeling his Fury of the Duel against the cultist leader, making a motion that he intended to fight him separately, "Fight me alone if you consider yourself of any ability, honorless curr! Eight against me? Get in a line!" He calls out, believing that there might be some sort of chance if he could get them all to line up in a line to honor duel him.