Lyriel nods in grim satisfaction as Darris and At'ril fall one after the other. She utters a quick prayer, and her allies immediately around her (Lyriel, Maeve, Boreas, Auriel) are healed.

[Mass Cure Critical Wounds: 55]

Dark energy swirls around her and strips her of [Protection From Spells], but the ex-priestess is heedless of the loss. Throwing her arms out, she casts a spell of immense power, and all of the sudden the battlefield is full of MASSIVE CELESTIAL RHINOCEROSES WITH BURNISHED GOLDEN METALLIC SKIN AND GLOWING WHITE EYES BLAZING WITH FURY

[Summon Monster IX]

The party gets the sense that these rhinos really should have been motherfucking triceratopses, but that it wouldn't have fit the high fantasy theme.

They CHARGE Vora EN MASSE, and all but one connects with their GLOWING ANGRY HORNS OF SMITE EVIL

[Damage: 166]

FUCK YEAH DINOSAURS!!! Lyriel yells, though she doesn't really know why.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:02, Wed 14 Dec 2016.

Upon the conclusion of its successful charge, Rhinosaur One takes a free action to take a massive celestial shit on Darris' corpse.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:07, Wed 14 Dec 2016.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 455):

Vora's remaining sinews, claws, and limbs fall to the ground amid the rampaging rhinosaurs.

While the body has fallen, the spirit coalesces into a quasi-tangible phantom with dark orbs of nothingness serving as its eyes.

The mass floats a few feet off the ground, and tendrils materialize around it and shimmer out of existence constantly.

>> SO BE IT. WITNESS MY TRUE POWER, AS THE WORLD CRUMBLES TO ASH. ALL SHALL BE REBORN, AND THE AGE OF VORA SHALL REIGN ETERNAL <<

(Initiative order is unchanged)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:20, Wed 14 Dec 2016.

Auriel continues his assault, adapting to address the new form, though it appears as if his attacks are less than effective. Three hits land, but only two solidly, and after it's all said and done Vora appears to take much less damage than he would have expected.

[Damage: 19]

The paladin loses the benefit of Bear's Endurance, but it wasn't doing anything for him anyway, so no real loss.

All allies within 10' of Auriel heal 12 damage.

In reply to Auriel (msg # 457):

Finwe expertly swings his weapon at Vora, but manages to either whiff or pass through her newly amorphous form all four times.

"This vexes me," he mutters. "I am greatly vexed."

In reply to DM (msg # 458):

Dark forces swirl around each combatant. With their shields gone, the sapping force begins to drain away the heroes' other auras and enchantments.

OOC: Everyone is stripped of their highest-level fixed-duration buff. You get the feeling you will not like what happens to you if you have no buffs to feed to this effect.




This message was last edited by the GM at 20:54, Wed 14 Dec 2016.

In reply to DM (msg # 459):

Vora gestures upward with two wispy arms, and enormous spectral tendrils erupt from the ground beneath Finwe and Lyriel's respective feet.

They immediately lunge at their targets, slipping through their armor as though it wasn't even there.

[Touch Attack (Finwe, Lyriel): 38,32]

The tendrils don't do much damage, but the chill of oblivion grips each target immediately upon contact.

[Damage (Finwe, Lyriel): 4, 3]

[Fort vs DC 37 (Finwe, Lyriel): 34, 28]

Black flames cascade over both heroes, and they do not go out...

[Damage (Finwe, Lyriel): 6 CON, 6 CON]

>> ALL SHALL PERISH << Vora intones, the tendrils fading as quickly as they had appeared. >> ASHES TO ASHES. DUST TO DUST. <<

Edited to reflect Auriel's action.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:03, Thu 15 Dec 2016.

Auriel snaps into action the moment the tentacle springs forth, interposing his holy-imbued shield between it and Lyriel, and preventing it from making contact with her.

[Combat Maneuver: Shield Block]

Lyriel looked around the shard of Oblivion that has become the battleground of the final confrontation between reality and nothingness. Dark energies swirled around them, sapping at the core of their being. One by one, her summoned allies dissolved into abject Nothing.

She watched in horror as the combined assaults of Auriel and Finwe barely even registered on the being of purest darkness that stood before them.

Desperately attempting to reverse the situation, she sent out a wave of pure positive energy, broadened in an attempt to batter down Vora's defenses. While her allies were restored for a moderate amount, the holy energies stopped short of reaching Vora, vanishing out of existence the moment it made contact with the goddess' swirling power.

[Mass Cure Critical Wounds: 54]

[SR vs Vora: fail]

I can't affect her! she cried out in despair. Her protection is too much to overcome!

Helplessly she gripped her sword loosely, and for the first time, her conviction began to falter as hope faded in the face of such insurmountable odds. What can any mortal do against such a thing? Is this...the end?

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 462):

A curious sensation ripples through Lyriel's consciousness as she cries out in desperation, and a river of faded light streams forth from the pommel of her sword.

I touch the fire, and it freezes me. I look into it, and it's black.
Why can't I feel? My skin should crack and peel. I want the fire back.

Soft words and a strange melody echo forth, and the light coalesces into the indistinct form of a host of humanoid figures.

Through the smoke, she calls to me. To make my way across the flame.
To save the day, or maybe melt away? I guess it's all the same.

The figures flicker as light continues to stream forth from the sword, their features consumed almost as soon as they can be formed by the caustic nature of Oblivion. Different voices can be heard over the melody.

What if the Goddess can't defeat it?
What if Eldric's right? We're needed.
What if the world is too far gone to care?

One figure stands larger than the rest -- tall, slender, and strong, with elven features that solidify slightly, though they remain spectral.

We'll see it through. It's what we were always here to do.

"Strike quickly, with all the strength you can muster! Eldric's voice echos forth. "This gambit will not last long before we are...unmade. Use the time wisely."

The figure places an indistinct hand on Auriel's shoulder, patting it as a friend might before moving next to Lyriel. He smiles weakly and kisses her lightly on her cheek.

Forgive me, sister," he says, his voice losing strength with every word until the final one is a mere whisper. "And remember me in the world to come.

Eldric's form dissolves among the rest of the wispy figures, and the light pulses outward in Vora's direction.

[Lyriel evokes Miracle]

The Goddess of Oblivion shrieks as the energy surrounds her, suffuses her, and adheres to her, bathing the ethereal horror in the raw power of a thousand souls. Moments later, Vora's wispy, indistinct form solidifies, coated in blueish light.

[Vora loses Incorporeal.]

[Vora's AC, SR, and DR are reduced to 0.]


The sword in Lyriel's hands goes dark almost immediately, leaving her powerless in the face of Armageddon.

[Lyriel loses the ability to cast spells]

You must prevail. The world ends with you.

The word hangs in the air, lingering for but a moment before fading away.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:41, Thu 15 Dec 2016.

In reply to DM (msg # 463):

Finwe, emboldened by this turn of events, needs no further urging.

"SMITE EVIL!" he bellows, flailing at the incapacitated Goddess while he can.

[Attack (Vora): automatic success x 4]

His warhammer slams down again and again, with emerald flames lancing out on every strike to dole out significant harm.

[Damage (Vora): 121]

Finwe roars in triumph, having finally contributed in some tactile way to the most important fight of his life.

Auriel thrust his sword into the center of Vora's mass, where it hung suspended as he let go of the hilt. "No matter how much destroy, you cannot unmake Hope."

His gauntleted hand clamps down on Vora's hideous countenance, and begins to radiate a blinding white light. Dawn glows in unison, until Auriel, his sword, and his foe become almost impossible to look at.

The pure tones of a music box, faint but clear, can be heard swirling around the edges of the void.

"Even if you were to snuff the very sun in the sky, you cannot stop the breaking of the new dawn," Auriel roared in defiance.

[Lay on Hands Positive Energy Damage: 300]

"Because we ARE the Light!!!"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:22, Tue 20 Dec 2016.

In reply to DM (msg # 464):

RIGHT... what HE said!

Keef summons yet another deafening bolt of red electricity that lands squarely on Vora (70 damage).

And STAY down!

Boreas floats in the air, gliding 10 feet closer to his allies.  The harshness of Oblivion is pushed back in an aura immediately surrounding him, at least for a fleeting moment.  The voices of the Voice and the people of Fey'driel ring in his mind.  His gem flickers from color to color as an undulating beam blasts from it, boring into Vora's twisted form.  The power of all of the followers of the Primal Voice coalesces to destroy the Unmaker.

By your powers combined, we will prevail!

[Casting Prismatic Blast]
[Damage 42]
[Vora is subjected to the effect of each of the beams of Prismatic Spray]

Oblivion closes back in, whipping at the magic around Boreas once again.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:23, Tue 20 Dec 2016.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 467):

Vora fails all of her Reflex saves, and is consequently seared, scoured, and electrified for 140 damage.

The greenish blast attempts to poison the Goddess, but fails to do more than leave her looking less hale and hearty than before (4 CON damage)

Though bound, her Will remains unbroken -- successfully fending off the petrifying, insanity-laced, and plane-shifting effects of the blue, indigo, and violet beams.

Vora has now endured serious damage, but somehow yet stands.

Time seems to slow down for Maeve.

For this I was born.

Maeve stabs the goddess with all the fury she can muster.  As she does, she delivers a truly cutting, truly epic one-liner.  It's too good to write down, so you'll have to use your imagination.

[Total damage: 121]

Lyriel looked down at her hands, feeling empty and powerless with the sudden obliteration of her ancestors. Her gaze fell to the hilt of her sword. The sword Eldric had planned to forge. The plan she carried through.

No. Not powerless. Never again.

She drew the blade, casting aside her shield to take the hilt firmly in both hands.

I refuse to let my magic define who I am. My faith does not determine my worth.

She strode forward, delivering a fluid overhead cut that bit deeply into the abomination's flesh.

This is for the world you broke.

Her momentum carried her through her cut and she shifted her hips, spinning the sword back to arc around for another blow from the opposite direction.

This is for my family.

Lyriel drew her sword clear of the second cut, deftly twisting into the high guard her brother taught what felt like several lifetimes ago, tip angled to her foe. And this. Her voice quavered, but did not break.

She plunged her sword into Vora's chest, driving it to the very hilt.

This is for Eldric.

[Damage: 32]

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 470):

Vora, held captive by the energy of a repurposed soul well, can do little to defend herself from this latest onslaught. As each hero lashes out to the full extend of their ability, the blows hit home like never before.

>> IM <<

Boreas's blast slams into her shoulder, punching through the indistinct mists with a penetrating power from which they do not recover. A large tear remains behind.

>> PO <<

Keef's bolts of lightning arc across the void, twisting and burning tufts of Vora's form into nothingness.

>> SS <<

Finwe's light-imbued weapon slams across Vora's other shoulder, grinding it to powder.

>> IB <<

Auriel's series of maneuvers strike the Goddess at her very core, unleashing an explosion of oblivion-laced shrapnel which flies from Vora, further diminishing her once-imposing visage.

>> LE <<

Maeve and her trusty griffin plow into what remains, chopping, stabbing, and (yes) beaking her repeatedly. This leaves Vora's wavering form with such little solidity that it her final strike was almost unsatisfying in terms of the amount of yield Vora's body provided against the blade. Almost.

It is at this moment, with Vora on the ropes and her spectral chains rapidly dissolving amid the caustic entity that is Oblivion, that Lyriel approaches.

Her sword strokes, unempowered, slice through the few tethers still binding Vora to this world- -- or any other.

>> YOU HAVE SEALED THIS WORLD'S FATE. CREATION... <<

The words are more of a hiss, like escaping steam, than the boomingly powerful voice you've grown accustomed to.

>> ...REQUIRES... <<

>> ...A CREATOR... <<

A torrent of darkness deeper than the blackest night tears forth from the center of Vora's mass, working its way outward with the vicious hunger that only the void can bring.

>> _{I ONLY...WANTED...TO BE.} <<

Another moment, and it's over. The Unmaker has been unmade.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:05, Tue 08 May 2018.

In reply to Vora (msg # 471):

~~ END COMBAT ~~

Though the battle has been won -- Vora vanquished, and the corpses of her elite followers laying prostrate on the ground -- the maelstrom of destruction rampaging across the sky continues, unabated. One could be forgiven for believing the war lost, after all.

With the shields provided by your patrons depleted, and the portal that drew you to this wretched place closed, it is only a matter of time before each hero expends the last of their magics and is left to the ravenous fury of Oblivion.

The PARTY can only watch as the floating spires of the Celestial Heavens disappear within the raging void. Oceans and mountains funnel through, with bricks and mortar and forests, men and beasts, and everything else that gave substance to Prime and the planes that surrounded it. All that is, was, or will be -- pasts, futures, and presents -- are devoured with equal impassiveness.

Though Lyriel felt its effects first, she is soon joined in the ranks of the unempowered by Finwe, Boreas, Keef, and Auriel. One by one, the comforting heartbeat of their patrons' power withers away, slowing before coming to an abrupt stop.

[Divine Spells and Abilities Cannot Be Cast]

[Arcane Spells and Abilities Cannot Be Cast]

The light itself is next to fall, with the sun being sucked into the storm like a flicking candle. It is soon extinguished, and utter darkness falls upon the PARTY.

After the shock subsides, the PARTY realizes that there is, in fact, illumination available to them. Only now, in the terrible darkness, can they perceive that Oblivion itself has a light of its own. A faint, purplish hue, perhaps, but enough to see.

Enough to reveal that the tear in the sky has consumed itself, melting away into the all-encompassing ambiance of the sole remaining realm.

Enough to see the only structure of any kind that yet remains: the large Vorite well from which Darris, Atril, and Shep were summoned when you first encountered Vora.

There are no other exits.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:04, Wed 21 Dec 2016.

Maeve, undaunted by her lack of spellcasting seeing as she had none to begin with, jumps lightly onto the rim of the well, Sekhmet close behind.

"Once more into the breach?"

Auriel rose to his feet wearily, returning the extinguished Dawn to its scabbard and shouldering his shield more out of habit than any conscious intent.

His mother's pendant hung limp and inert, cold against his heart.

Silently, he watched existence fade around him until everything was the violet-tinged blackness of Oblivion. He nods at Maeve, though she cannot see him.

"Yes. And... if this should truly be the end, then...I'm glad I'm here with all of you."

Somewhere in the dark, Auriel's hand found Lyriel's, and their fingers intertwined.

Lyriel closed her eyes, though it made no difference. Her only sensation was the faint warmth of Auriel's hand engulfing hers. She thought back to a distant promise, made to her when Auriel was a different man.

And if the world comes to an end, I'll be there to hold your hand...

Somehow, that made everything all right. They stood together on the edge of Oblivion...

...and leapt.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 475):

Keef, panting and nearly shaking with anger and frustration, wipes the sweat, blood, and nothingness-slime from his forehead.

... and no god shall stand in our way... he mutters to himself, then follows the others.

Boreas steps up on the edge of the well.

Nothing left to say but...

Allons-y!

He jumps in.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 477):

A dreamlike state washes over the PARTY as the strange, otherworldly fluid surrounds them, pulling them downward in a smooth, natural motion.

The effect occurs organically, feeling neither aggressive nor malicious. No tendrils grasp at the PARTY's ankles. No driving force compels them onward. They simply sink, falling further and further away from the ruined surface above.

The well's embrace is cold, but not wet. Numbing, but not painful. Inexorable, but not unpleasant.

The sensation begins at the extremities before lancing lazily outward to encompass their entire form. Each nerve and neuron utters a muted, muffled protest as it loses contact with its neighbors. Fuzzy, muddled, and groggy, the mind is not spared the body's fate. Thoughts become a jumbled slurry, and soon fade to nothingness.

And as the PARTY succumbs to the well's tranquility on the featureless plane of Oblivion, the world ends with them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:04, Thu 22 Dec 2016.