Trgaiob's voice whispers through the pocket where Chance and Trista ride, + WE WILL BE THERE SHORTLY. +

+ WE MAY HAVE A NEW CONCERN THOUGH. +


Berd, Cyan, Devlin and Dorian fall through the Underflow, surrounded by monstrous shapes, seen only indistinctly, like fish dwelling in the depths of a cold, dark lake (if such fish grew big enough to swallow worlds).

And then, after only a short time, they find themselves on the shore of a lake, hopefully one without monstrously immense fish.  The sky is filled with storm clouds, and a waterspout stands in the lake, hurling water, flotsam, and even pieces of the lake bed itself at the roiling mass of darkness high above their heads... where a trio of Archons seem to be engaged in some sort of dance with... something else.

Something else that looks like an Archon composed of water.


+ THERE ARE FIVE MORE CREATURES WHO DO NOT BELONG IN THIS WORLD.  NOT ARCHONS.  TWO HUMANS, TWO ALMOST HUMANS, AND ONE THAT WE CAN NOT IDENTIFY. +

The view in the window veers suddenly, as if their Archon mount is carrying them towards the far shore of the lake.


With the wind gusting around them and almost dragging them onto the muddy exposed areas of the lake bed, and hurling leaves and other debris about, it is, perhaps, unsurprising that Berd and the others fail to notice the new arrival in their midst... at least until Devlin feels a sharp stinging at his cheek, and finds a small bird clinging desperately to his shoulder.

Of course, their failure to notice immediately may have something to do with the sight of another Archon, hurtling towards them across the lake...

Cyan's breath comes rapidly at the sight of the battling archons, but they are danioti, not eshurianti.  Nor herenethi, but those, while potent, do not carry the same impact upon her as do the wheels of fire.  Her eyes cradle a last dash of colour as they take the scene before her.  The trio of danioti.  Their approaching cousin.  And, curious, a sort of archon she has never seen before.

Gurthang leaves its scabbard, the heat-death of molecules lighting its edges with ghostly, flickering flame.  Near-crystal eyes focus upon the approaching danioti - neither Right, nor Left - and Cyan strides forward, lips curling into a broad smile.  But she pauses, cocking her head.  "...not attacking yet?" she murmurs, studying the language of the creature's 'body' at Berd's prompting.

"This one may not be seraphim," she shoots over her shoulder, clinging to her control by her fingernails.  The tip of the sword grounds, though the bard remains ready.  Berd vaults from her shoulder to hover above the group, a space of dead air surrounding him, protecting him from the winds.

The scene outside, with the wheel of water that must be Lexy, rivets Trista's attention. She's still alive, but against two more of the bladed wheels. Power. So Much Power.

Trgiaob's concern sharpens Trista's senses as she listen. Two humans. Two almost? humans and another. At least, they're not more of the archon monstrosities. “Humans, I can deal with.” The simple machete breaks free of bindings and Trista prepares.

Then a thought hits her.

Cocking an eyebrow, she turns to Chance, “Perhaps they aren't enemies. Maybe that's Devlin's group.” That might account for the human/non-human portion. Though were their four? Berd might be unidentified. It doesn't matter, of course. In a few seconds, they'll come face to face with whomever they are.

Then three tiny figures come into view. She squints hard. That could be Devlin. One moves. A glint of light?

It's no good, she can't make out details. Not yet. “We'll find out soon enough.”

"...and I feel fine," Chance says, finishing a previously unspoken thought.

His armored arm remains wrapped around his guitar as he looks out over the lake and takes the scene in. Inside his helmet, the HUD does its best to point out potential problems. Of course, it also floods his vision with a mountain of trivial data, like temperature, atmospheric composition, pressure, and other things. He doesn't know what most of them mean, but he suspects they aren't important.

"Humans ... if they aren't friends, then they're likely important to the enemy's plans. Definately better than dealing with Archons ... let's go see."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:21, Wed 22 Oct 2008.

Galatea's hair floats at an angle contrary to the wind, as if in a soft breeze only she experiences. She rises a few inches and looks out over the lake, tilting her head curiously.

"We attack?"

Her father doesn't speak, but she glances at him and nods, as if acknowledging some unspoken word.

She faces the lake, her thin brow knit in concentration and pointed curiosity.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:59, Thu 16 Oct 2008.

Dorian's cloak flaps in the wind, like a black, imperial flag that promises oppression and cruelty. His back is straight as a board, hands folded before him, head bowed forward. He makes no gesture or word, even when his daughter inquires about their next move.

As they arrive at there destination, Devlin spins, looking in every direction. There are three of the bladed ones fighting what appears to be a water archon in the air.

But no sign of the girl...

Hurtling toward them is yet another of the bladed ones.

No sign of the girl...

Devlin is not prepared for the bladed ones, and there was simply not time to alter his form before the creature speeding toward them would arrive.

There is a peck at his cheek and Devlin finally notices the small bird. "Yes, friend. Do you know where she is? he asks the bird, his attention returning to the spinning blades that are hurtling in his direction.

Cyan says something, but he does not understand the meaning of what she says as his mind searches, frantically. Then man's eyes open wide as if trying to burn into the thing coming toward them and he changes. The change is the fasted, but one those with him have seen before. Now, instead of a man there is a large demonic looking creature with a scaly black hide, bony plates, claws, fangs, horns, and a lot of sharp edges. ämi flaps its wings, but does not become dislodged by the sudden transformation. A heavy blade sprouts from its right hand and it barks out a deep, guttural growl.

The Archon howls in across the lake, fast, and so low now that it churns up a fountain of spray.  It reaches the shore, and a ditch appears, filling with water from the lake as the Archon continues towards the group standing there...

High above, the battle rages on, as torrents of water slam into the Archons, bludgeoning them mercilessly, sending individual pieces of jagged metal whirling away across the sky.

The sky is split assunder by bolts of lightning, and water falls in a constant roaring cataract, the increasing volume of which drowns the sound of the thunder, and forces those on the shore to shout to each other now.

The Archon, moving across the shore, starts to slow, and a long arc of lighting strikes it, fusing the sand and gravel around it into flawed glass.  The creature appears to shake itself, but otherwise shows no sign of injury...

The air begins to shimmer as Berd prepares shielding against the incoming archon - he has no doubt the others have erected their own defenses against the creature.  But still, he detects little danger from it.  The drake turns a fraction of his attention to the power invigorating the fluid 'archon', studying it.  It might be similar to the one Jack found, so long ago, the one that Kia fed into Berd, raising him to a higher level, closer to what he had once been...and releasing his memory and a greater portion of his older self.

For an instant, Cyan shifts defensively as Devlin transforms, but recognition flickers in her near-crystal eyes.  Braced against the storm's furious roar, she angles the flickering tip of gurthang toward the approaching archon, blinking once at the stab of lightning.  "If you do not be an enemy," she shouts, "hold fast!"

An out-of-the-blue phrase pulls questioning eyes up to Chance. Or rather to his hi-tech helm. Was that a hint she should have asked how he was feeling? She doubts it; he doesn't seem the type to need that. Not that she would know; she'd only just begun to know him when they came upon the town and separated. Gotta have that drink with him after this. Hopefully, there will be an 'after this.'

Her eyes slip to the armored hand cradling the seemingly fragile guitar. She juts her chin toward the instrument, “Keep that safe.” Chance wouldn't be Chance without it.

Back out the window, they come quickly toward the group and now she can clearly see the group. A relieved smile curves her lips as she first makes out Devlin and Berd, then Cyan, Dorian and ämi flapping his little wings though she's unsure why. Her eyes land on the last figure...

A frown bends her brows, “Do you see that? That – ghost? Looks like a child.”

"Other way around, babe. She keeps me safe." Chance says. "Always has." The subvocal tension in his voice flows through the electronic speakers like hissing air. Despite his worry, he manages to smile. Trista may not be able to see the genuflection, but the helmets sensors pick it up and helpfully display a neon-blue smiley face across the faceplate for her. It flashes three times and then fades.

"Yeah," he says, looking at the kid. "I don't know who that is."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:41, Fri 24 Oct 2008.

All around them, defenses are raised. Oddly, Dorian's does nothing. No shields or even especial psychic defenses snap into place. He glances at Galatea and nods. Then, he steps forward, to the front of the shielded and defensive ones with him. He stands unprotected.

Gaze still fixed on the approaching archon, he lifts a hand and says, "Peace be unto you."

Galatea stands beside him, eyes brimming with curiosity.

The Archon halts, showering Dorian with sand, gravel, and fragments of stone.  It holds its position, neither attacking nor speaking, and it seems as though it is studying the group intently...

A gust of wind plucks at Dorian's robe, and a corner passes through the circle of wildly spinning blades, but the blades themselves seem to twist in the air, and the fabric falls back, entirely undamaged.


+ WE ARE TRGIAOB.  YOU ARE NOT PART OF THIS WORLD.  WY ARE YOU HERE? +  The clashing metallic voice of the Archon booms out, easily heard above the sound of the storm.

Devlin was about to attack, even though he knew he stood little chance against the Archon, even in his current form.

But then Cyan speaks as if the thing may not be an enemy and Dorian steps forward to greet it as a friend. Puzzled then creature that is Devlin pauses, but he does not lower his guard and he waits intently to see what will happen next.

With the extra time the demon concentrates on increasing what little defense he possesses, strengthening his armor, making it thinker, so that it is more like steel than thick hide.

Trista blinks, momentarily stunned before a crack of a smile hides laughter. Not exactly appropriate before facing death. Or perhaps, entirely appropriate. In any event, the blue smiley face took her completely by surprise.

Though no cessation of movement accompanies the archon's sudden stop to the two within this odd traveling place, Trista notes the lack of movement through the window. The ghostly figure seems to be with the group, so her attention goes to Trgiaob, whom she answers aloud.

“You're right, Trgiaob, but she no longer serves that master. These are our friends and can be trusted, even the General. You can let us out and we'll see what can be done about the invaders.”