It's a temperate evening in Irohn, like always, and you are gathered with the other heritors in what was once the courthouse of Anaya, and is now the center of the scrambling effort to figure out what to do. It's only been a day since Anaya vanished, and already Uncreated Night is swallowing up the edges of the Realm while Night Roads spew monstrosities into it.

But that last is also your people's only hope, because old lore says that the Roads lead to other worlds, and perhaps more stable ones. The best bet you've found is a farm manager who says that in his farm, a Road opened and disgorged a handful of Uncreated. They were put down, with much effort, and a short scouting excursion found the Road safe enough.

They didn't get far, but it's the best option you've found so far, and time is short....

The First Day After the Fall
Rashana had been in the capital, not far from where she now stood in the Courthouse of Anaya, when it had happened. Stars fell from the twilight sky, and throughout the entire realm, it was felt, on some level. She had gone to interview with the Priesthood, to answer their summons and hear their offers and invitations. Many of the order were in chaos as all seemed to collapse for them in moments. But for Rashana, for the outsider among them, things were... different.

Somehow, she could feel it, taste it. Something stood broken, beyond any <i><i>brokenness</i></i> she'd ever experienced or understood - and she had understood so very well about flaws in the systems around her already. Now, it was like that insight and understanding was magnified, throwing reality into sharp relief. And then, amidst the chaos in her mind, part of the temple had collapsed under the weight of some nightmarish beast and for a moment, things had gone completely dark.

A surge inside her had been the answer. Striking with hands at first, then with starlight as her urgency grew, the rubble atop her was broken into gravel and then dust under the blows of a glowing hammer, a hammer which vanished into nothing as she pulled herself from the rubble of the old Theotechnical Wing of Anaya's temple.

When she looked back at the sky, she could see the frayed edges of the cosmic tapestry, the stars that had fallen and left holes and wounds in the fabric of the sky. On a deep, instinctive level, she recognized a brokenness to reality that hadn't been there, before. That Ayana had kept out... and now, she wasn't able to keep it out anymore...

Rashana had spotted the beast that had crushed the temple wing - ten feet tall with flailing arms of pulsing shadow, so very unlike Anaya's night. In her mind, she could visualize what needed to happen, how it needed to be struck down. And then, almost without understanding in full, she moved. Fallen timbers and stone came together with pale starlight, almost floating into place as she gathered ruined pieces in a blur of movement, and a bolt of starlight glowed as she adjusted the aim of a half-glowing, half-built ballista - and with it, launched a spear of light across several blocks, impaling the monster and pinning it to the side of another building, where it thrashed, digging grooves into the earth before it dissolved away, slain.

The materials comprising the ballista had collapsed, and, in a bit of a daze, Rashana stared down at her hands, and at the remains of what she had, in the moment, built. She had been busy since, working to create such weapons - though without manning them herself, she needed to fashion bolts for each such weapon, made of rubble stone or scrap iron. It took her... little time, impossibly little time to create each work. She was a blur, creating barricades against the creatures.

In just a day's time, the space around the courthouse had been turned into an impromptu fortification. She couldn't fully explain the very work she was doing, but it seemed clear that... perhaps, it was linked to Ayana's passing?

---

Rashana sat around the large table, leaned onto the surface with only subtle suggestions at the idea of fatigue - she wasn't tired, somehow, but she felt like she should be, after all the work she'd done. A plate of food was set in front of her - she had worked through meals, and so one to eat at this gathering hardly had seemed ill-fitting, given she had fortified the plaza almost single-handedly, creating a means of keeping, for a time, at least, the strange monsters at bay.

Behind her eyes, thoughts churned, thoughts she could finally start to consider with all that work behind her, work she'd dived into on raw instinct, but only now could she really think about and let land how... impossible it all was.

How was she supposed to fix a broken sky, these broken and frayed edges of the world?
This message was last edited by the player at 23:17, Wed 08 Apr 2020.

Sani, the young initiate, yes, that one -- not yet the kind of priestess you gave important tasks to, not tasks for an important person -- mind, she was pleasant enough.  Yes, anyway, that Sani, had stepped across the square, with lotus flowers sprouting with each step, just like the old bodhisattvas, and she winced like she was about to be struck with each step.  It wasn't right, after all -- not her.  There were other, more deserving priests.

Earlier, The Fall.

Sani had been lighting lamps in the gardens of the capital -- pleasant in the night air, with the murmur of streams and fountains, and the sighs of aimless couples -- there were always aimless couples in the central garden.  There were five sacred sites with lamps to be lit at the feet of statutes of Anaya, one for each of the five sacred plants, which grew in abundance:  their flowers were soft-blush red; plain white; dull Aegean blue; brilliant gold; and humble, mud brown.

When the stars winked out, one moment there was the Third Altar, and the next, it was gone.  There was a nothingness that looked cold, like a black pool of water in winter.  A few dim things walked out.  They advanced on her, and, true be told, she had felt frozen in place, like a scared rabbit – more scared than a rabbit, in fact.

It was hard to say what had happened first, but someone screamed “RUN!”  And at some point, when her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was praying to Anaya, she felt a sudden benevolence, followed by a gentle sadness.  A voice said “Save them, child.”

She heard howls, groans, screams.  Then:  “The plants got them!” cried a jubilant woman.  “Thank Anaya!”

Sani opened her eyes, and a humble, brown plant had grown thickly over the Hole in the World, and wrapped it up shut.

“Thank Anaya, “ a woman sobbed nearby.

But Sani didn't feel any relief, because when she looked up, Anaya was gone.

The Present.

Sani, the young initiate, stood tentatively near Rashana, as if waiting to be acknowledged.  She had a basket of food:  warm bread, butter, cheese, and wine.  A path of flowers receded across the room behind her, small lotuses with pale flowers.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, diffidently.  “Miss, I’ve heard you made all these fortifications.  It’s a miracle.  The High Keeper asked me to bring you food and wine.  He says you are blessed by Anaya.”

"But that's not true, is it?  Anaya's gone.  Everyone can see that."

The golden-haired girl turned an eye to the initiate who had turned up to her side, offering bread and wine. She smiled, a relieved look, as she accepted openly. "I... I don't know entirely how, but yes." She closed her eyes, savoring the taste, as if she'd only just realized how hungry she truly was. She set to opening the bread with a knife that wasn't there a moment ago, with a silvery glowing blade that had simply formed of nothing in her hand.

"But, from what I can tell, I'm not the only one working wonders right now." She cast an eye back to the receding trail of flowers blossoming from stone. "I can't say if this is Anaya's hand at work, some... consequence of her loss, or... something else, really. I don't profess to have any answers about Anaya, but... my eyes agree with yours."

She turned her eyes back to the wine, took a drink, then looked back to the food-bearing initiate with a softer smile. "... and it's Rashana." She added gently. "My name. Thank you and the Keeper for the hospitality. I think I've worked without eating since the gloaming hours..."

A quiet sound of satisfied approval left her as she took small, neat bites of the buttered bread, chased with another sip of wine. She had the food-handling manners befitting her noble station, despite her apparent hunger.

"You are very welcome.  If it's no good, miss Rashana, I can get you something else," Sani had never seen anyone eat so delicately.

"I'm Sani.  I'm an initiate--I'm sure you realized, " she was wearing the greens after all, with the symbol of the sacred flowers intertwined into a knot.  Only the initiates were required to wear the greens and flowers.  "I think no one's gotten much rest.  We've been helping the injured and gathering supplies.  We have animals, and we're storing up seeds and food.  Some of the injured aren't really injured -- they just are in shock and don't know what to do. They come to us anyway.  The High Keeper says some have been chosen by Anaya and will guide us.  That seems to help them feel better.  But it'll get worse if we stay too long.  I can see it.  Some of them, the darkness is clinging to them, eating at their hearts.  If we stay too long, eventually they won't want to leave, and I don't know what happens after that."

  While the fêted defenders relate their observations and compare miracles on one side of the table, the smaller, pale girl in the dreamtender's robes sits still and silent, clearly paying attention but not raising her eyes far enough to be exactly 'watching' them.  It isn't clear why she is present, and she wears the perpetual half-cringe of someone who isn't sure on the matter, herself.

  On one level, the answer is there for the taking.  The girl ran deep into a panicked mob when the attack began, and an orderly evacuation spread from her in waves.  Once she caught sight of the barricades going up, the whole crowd flowed like a school of fish to gather behind them.  Hundreds indisputably survived because of her cool head and quick action, and it was only more impressive if she had done nothing but plead with them, as some survivors reported.  Impressive enough, perhaps, to reconsider her caste to honor a spirit that clearly leapt beyond the limits of its latest birth.

  But this isn't a table for heroes; this is a table, and a meeting, for the inheritors of Anaya, who bleed miracles and hold fire in their gaze.  They sprang into action and drove back the onslaught of terror and annihilation.  And they would have to find a way to hold the world together, or else find another and lead the multitudes to it.  The Servant girl would likely make a good functionary in the effort, but that must come after the plan is laid.  And that must be—

  Ah.  She has a functioning data slate.  Someone must have gotten the network back up, at least locally.  Keeping the minutes, then.

Then

Though there were myriad other places where she could be sure of peace and quiet, Laila had long favoured meditating within the privacy of her own chambers if she could find cause enough to avoid company. She knew there was something more than a little childish to it. No-one else could walk within her mind and see what passed between her and the goddess, nor would any of her peers be so disrespectful as to interrupt or bother her without a good reason. And yet still she found that sense of distance all but critical to her calm. Something about knowing she was truly alone as she shared her inner-self with Anaya made that bond feel all the richer. Stronger. More real.

Her presence had always been a small thing, perhaps more the calcification of heartfelt belief than a true manifestation of divinity. It was like the tiny flickering light of a candle on the distant horizon, a thing almost so faint as to be unnoticeable yet ever-defiant against the dark. It had always been warming despite the leagues that lay between them.

Laila had been reaching for it when the flame died and the freezing void rushed in. Then she fell. Into darkness – darkness and light.

She came back to the world sprawled out on the floor, one arm still stretched out before her and after-images blaring in front of her eyes as if she had stared too long at the sun. Her ears rang as she ineffectually to rub the dancing lights away with trembling hands, nausea keeping her pinned to the floor as her equilibrium slowly righted itself. Slowly, queasily, she started to piece things back together. Her vision cleared, she found her feet, and the discordant noise died away. Mostly. Some still lingered on.

She cocked her head to one side. Were those screams?

From the balcony she saw – saw but didn’t understand - the fate that had befallen Irohn. Balefires fell from the tattered twilight shroud above and thundered to the world below, filling the sky with ash and dust. Their impacts threw up not only shattered masonry but a darkness that seemed to shift before her eyes as if the very shadows were alive. It slid and crawled across the ground, coalescing into dark and terrible shapes that stood like a bestial parody of humanity. Nightmares. Terrors. Hungering shades that defiled this sacred place with each and every step they took.

Laila’s vantage point let her take in only a small portion of the chaos befalling the city but even that was enough. She had no memory of such an event ever taking place within their city’s history, and she was certain that Anaya would never have allow- … Anaya. Only now did she recognise that painful absence in the tortured sky, and in that moment something broke inside her. The goddess was gone. They were alone. She was alone.

She watched with despairing eyes as those monstrosities lurched towards a handful of dazed individuals pulling themselves free from the rubble of a building's shattered entranceway. Part of her wanted to scream out, to yell for them to run, but fear had swallowed her voice. She could do nothing, and she hated that feeling of helplessness - hated whatever cruel fate had forced this upon them. Her fists balled so hard that her nails bit into her palms until they burned.

Burned?

There nestled in her hand was the flame from her vision. And as she beheld that brilliant spark, that sheer raw power bursting forth, its like rose in her heart and set that grief and hate ablaze. It swelled further and claimed her fear, her doubts and every last ounce of hesitation until there was only that sheer will to act. She burned, and there was ample fuel for that fire.

With a roar Laila threw herself from the balustrade as her soul ignited. She ate up the ground, every tree, every railing, every outcropping another footfall as she seared across the sky. At last she fell upon those twisted creatures like the fist of an angry god, incandescent in her fury and her light anathema to their darkness. Though they shrank away from her she offered not a mote of mercy. Only ash remained.

Yet it was not enough. The fire burned on.

---

Now

“I think you know very well what will happen,” Laila cut in from the side. Sat with her arms folded across her chest, she clearly had nothing better to occupy herself with than listening in. “None of it good.”

Though her clean white garb had its share of scuffs and wear from frays of the day past it still gleamed like new, a thing made more impressive when one considered how widespread accounts of her interventions were. If one believed every rumor and tall tale then nearly half the city could claim some kind of run in with their own falling star. Obviously those accounts were inflated by all reckoning by now but Laila was in no mood to dispel such talk.

“Anaya wished to spare us war, so our people do not fight or build high walls; she wished to spare us pain, so we are unprepared for such times as these. Not since the first have any of us lived through their like.” She let out a resigned little sigh. It made the whole business sound more an annoyance than a matter of extinction. “We will weather it as best we can, but that may not mean much. None of us are Her equal. Even together we may not have the means to halt this.”
This message was last edited by the player at 08:34, Sat 11 Apr 2020.

Rashana looked up to Laila as she spoke. She'd heard of the woman, of course -a falling star come to fight the creatures was a curiosity in passing, at least to the woman who had spent such time conceiving and creating the structures and tools needed to fend off the monstrosities of the frayed edges. A fellow noble, Rashana could recognize the same signs of similar social ties that had held them both back from all the were capable of. Having seen her briefly in action, though, it was a different thing entirely. An anger that Rashana didn't quite share, but it wasn't something that seemed misplaced, as far as Rashana could tell.

Turning, after Laila's reply to Sani, the younger noble cleared her throat. "I hate to admit it, but she's right. I could build a vault with walls as thick as a mountain, but whatever it is fraying the sky up there wouldn't care about walls. Nevermind that few of us even have the capacity to face these things..." There was a brief pause, as she took another piece of bread to eat, taking a bite, chewing and swallowing with wine delicately before looking back up. "... Thank you, though. I'm not sure I've ever had bread so good without being fresh heated from the oven." She exhaled, and turned her eyes briefly to Bire La.

She didn't know what to make of the pale-faced girl with dark hair just yet. Rashana put less  hard stock in caste than one would expect, but she was still an enigma to her, but the moment passed as she considered the other girl, then spoke up, looking to Laila. "We had a scout return while I was working at the wall - reports of an old... well, a Road, as the old records call it. They're said to be gateways leading out into other worlds. I know it's generally accepted that most of us arrived here from some other place, long ago, through Anaya's benevolence. But whatever befell her, she can't protect this place any longer, and... I don't know how. I can feel it, though, like there's something... broken here. Something I can't fix."

She leaned onto the table, gently brushing her hair back, and, in the process, a shimmering tie of light formed, and she used one hand to draw back and pull her hair into a low tie at the back. It seemed effortless for her, almost instinctive already - given how much she'd done the trick to summon up tools she used to work the stone of the city into makeshift fortifications, it was hardly surprising the seemed at ease with that particular facet of her inheritance. "I feel like I'm supposed to fix it, but I don't know... how. I wonder if it might be better to use the Road - to look for some other place that isn't... collapsing under the weight of this... force, whatever it is, leaking into the city."

She seemed troubled, to be sure. She didn't seem to entirely understand what she was capable of, or perhaps it was more being able to now make the intuitive leaps needed to design something as she built it, and to build almost as a blur seemed somehow... irrational to her - it shouldn't possible to have a mind or hands this quick and efficient, and yet... she did. It didn't seem to make getting over the sudden escalation of her capabilities any easier, though.

Then

Alvatter busied himself within the depths of the archive. His task today similar to those he had each day for the last three years: to copy precious tomes so that they could be preserved. Knowledge, wisdom, memory. It was these things that the Order of Triumphant Wisdom dedicated themselves to preserving if only for the matters of the arcane. When Anaya disappeared Alvatter felt nothing expressly wrong with the world, at least not immediately. It was only as Night Roads began to emerge did his mind become engulfed in heat and pain as the half-whispered voices of ten thousand sages assailed him.

He stumbled through the archive, avoiding the crumbling roof and collapsing shelves. There was no intention in his actions, simply a subtle awareness of where to be and where not to be. Sadly this blessing did not extend to his fellows and he was forced to bear witness to several of their deaths at the hands of creatures without names. He wished to save them but was painfully aware of how limited his new power was.

Shamefully he turned away from their suffering and stepped into shadow, disappearing from the depths of the archive and emerging in the relative safety.

Now

Alvatter sat at the table of supposed inheritors of Anaya's power and felt a fraud. He had not been strong enough to protect others or create defenses. He was only powerful enough to save himself and worse he had turned his back on those he was charged to treat as his brothers and sisters. So he was silent and listened while trying to not to drown in the sorrow that threatened to consume him. At mention of the roads he thought to himself, pulling on the host of knowledge that he had inherited and what he knew from his time serving as an Archivist for the Order.

"We are likely experiencing the erosion of our realm by Uncreated Night, the hungering void that form during the collapse of Heaven under the hubris of man. These Roads that Rashana speaks of are pathways between realms but not all are safe to traverse even if they are stable."

"It is likely that more of those...things will be awaiting any who enter."

Sani had continued bringing refreshments to the heritors, bobbing in and out, listening, listening, trying to not shiver at the thought of what was to come if they tried to stay.  "I think we have to go.  I'm sure that things will get worse just like everyone agrees if we stay.  The Keepers are already gathering seeds, food, tools, and animals.  But there aren't enough wagons, and the Keepers aren't sure where we're going.  I think most people are still staying home, waiting for someone to tell them what to do."

"Wagons can be built. It won't take me long. What I'm more concerned with is safety for the journey. I can make all the finest weapons, but it won't matter if our people can't use them very well." She cast an eye toward her fellow Noble, at that. "Well, that, and where exactly we're to end up. We don't really know what lies beyond that gate - it is how these creatures came to be here, but these portals seem to be the only roads we have out of this place."

Alvatter grimaced. They were right, of course. Without Anaya's divine protection this realm was doomed to destruction. The Roads presented the only viable option for escape but they would not be easy to traverse and there was no way of being certain that we would arrive at a safer destination.

"The simple reality is that if we do not leave we will all likely die. The Roads present us with our only viable option. I will go and investigate them to the best of my abilities. While I cannot guarantee I will find a suitable path I believe Anaya empowered me for this task. As for the other preparations we can do only what we can and pray for the best."

  "That is the question that panics the Dreamers," chimes in the dreamtender. Her fingers pause in their quick, precise strokes on the slate, looking a bit like dancers' legs in a mid-motion stance. She looks up finally, but makes only the briefest flickers of eye contact. The cringe sinks into a pool of professionalism as the words come out.

  "They have tried to invite guidance and found none, no matter how strongly the elixirs were brewed. Some have seen horrors. Some have seen Nothing, and they are the more shaken." Her voice holds sympathy and comfort-in-advance, but little sign of her own emotional response. It is a very trained voice. "If the archives do not speak, and the Dreamers do not see, we cannot know whether we travel to save ourselves or merely to make our beds in a fire.

  She takes a steadying breath before coming to the point, and she makes it speaking just faster enough to notice. "This one suggests there is wisdom in taking time. We may yet learn how to assess our destination, and the additional experience combating the creatures of the hungry dark may help to better defend from them along the way. If you say we must leave, we must leave; but prepare for as long as Irohn has any safety for us at all." Immediately, she ducks her head again and subtly leans back.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:02, Mon 13 Apr 2020.

Joshua hadn't spoken much at all, and merely listened to the others as they had argued back and forth. As Bire offered her view on waiting though, he looked up from the weapon he had been cleaning out of habit, and decided to throw in his own perspective.
"You have a point in waiting Bire, but the longer we wait the more we lose. We might be heading somewhere worse than our current situation, but maybe not. Were it just us, I would say we shouldn't run into an unknown so easily, but we have innocent people to evacuate. If they die because we didn't take a risk, then the blood is on our hands all the same. I say we gather who and what we can as quickly as possible and make a run for it."

"The past speaks," Laila aimed at Bire La, no small certainty about her tone. "And our home is already aflame."

“Each of us knows how this realm came to be. Anaya, in her benevolence, carved a sanctuary for her faithful and so shielded us from the horrors beyond. She granted us hope and life when the world offered only death. Now death is come again, and in the goddess’ absence we must play her part.” She cast her gaze about the group. There was an unmistakable weight to it. "But none among us knows how to turn back the dark and repair a broken realm, and even if that knowledge were here it might be lost to us before we ever found it. We are only a fraction of her greatness. We cannot hope to sustain wonders maintained by her grace alone."

For Joshua a particular point of scorn was waiting. "There is no path without risk; to delay may be the greatest risk of all. That does not make acting without caution wisdom."

With that said, her attention came to rest upon Alvatter. She regarded him with a certain intensity, almost as if seeking to gauge his mettle, before offering him a slight nod of recognition. "I am with the archivist. If there are preparations that can be done here to better preserve the city and ready the people then see to them, but our fate lies with the Roads. If this collapse can be slowed - halted - then we will need to better know our enemy; if it is terminal then we must arm ourselves ourselves to protect the people on our exodus. It is the best course."

A faint light rose beneath her skin. In her eyes. "I am her sword. His studies will require time, and I will see that he has it."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 23:30, Mon 13 Apr 2020.

The tone had taken a divisive turn, and Sani found the Keeper's instinct to keep the peace rise inside her.  "Why not try both?  Those who want to explore staying -- can have a day to see if there's any solution, maybe by going to where Anaya used to be.  Perhaps you can find out where she's gone.  Even if it's not a solution, something of her power may remain in that place.  Those who want to go can form a group and examine the road.  Why not try both approaches and report back here?  As long as we are trying, there is hope."

"I choose... " she looked at the archivist and Laila -- certainly she felt safer near them.  "... to go see the road."

"If we decide to leave, we can take the Eternals with us, " -- she meant the undead workers -- "They can be a buffer to protect others as we travel the road."

There was a quiet pause, as Joshua spoke. His hasty attitude was unwise, but Laila said Rashana's piece more cleanly than she'd be able to, herself. The other noble got a slight nod. "See to it. I will assemble whatever I can to facilitate the transport and defense of as many as possible. "

There was a brief pause, though, as Sani raised the subject of the Eternals. "... We must prioritize the living. The Eternals are slower, less coordinated, less able to respond. I can see their use - but too many of them risk boxing the people into a cornered situation as easily as they might serve as a shield. We should take care with whatever Eternals we bring with us..." There was a subtle personal distaste toward them, it seemed - but her assessment was nonetheless soundly based on reason.

Standing from the table, Rashana stretched her arms over her her head, stretching and quietly popping her spine, one eye squeezing closed. "nhhnn... Alright. Let me get back to work, if that's all you need me for - Nobody else is going to be able to build what we need." She looked to Laila. "If you could - how many units of troops do we have fit for manning my ballistae? There's no sense in me overbuilding - I thought to build transports with mounted weapons on top - all the better to serve as the front and flank of the caravan."

Rashana's words earned her the ghost of a smile. She seemed practical, fittingly enough, and had been quite agreeable. That was certainly welcome. At her question however Laila couldn't help but give an incredulous little laugh. Really it was more of a dry huff than anything. "I know nothing of troops and arms. Before yesterday I knew nothing of violence..." She brushed the thought away with a lazy shrug. "I can make inquiries should you wish it. I doubt they would refuse me the information."

"In return though, I would like a sword. I have no need of one but it feels improper to be without a weapon now." A knowing tilt of the head. "A symbol, you see."

The Maker's eyes darted over Laila at her request, and the other woman got the distinct impression that Rashana was measuring her with a glance - height, the length of her arm, dimensions...  The moment passed, though, as she stood from the table.

"From your attitude, I assumed you'd know. Not to worry, though. If it comes to it, I'll find people to teach - difficult as that might be. In any event, if you're looking for something magical, that will take time and focus, even for me. But, if you want something solid and inspiring, I can do that. Come with me." She invited Laila, as she moved toward the exit, though she did pause to look back to the rest. "Anything else to go over, before I get back to work?"

Alvatter was glad to have the support of at least some of the inheritors. These were trying times and he could sympathize with Joshua even if he didn't agree. Hopefully they would find a way to save as many people from Irohn and preserve as much of its legacy. As Rashana rose he also rose and when she spoke he shook his head in the negative.

"No I believe this matter closed to the extent that it can be resolved at current. If we are all clear in our missions there is nothing left to discuss."

  La nods and tucks her slate away, then rises from her seat with careful, formal grace. The robes are cut to hang straight and heavy enough to stay that way, masking the body underneath. So she looks more like a votive candle unmelting than like a fully real person.

  "I will notify the Dreamers you wish to depart with haste," she says, tucking her hands into her sleeves before bowing deeply. She takes her time rising again, and then her eyes, still turned to the floor, jump erratically as she visibly turns over a plan in her mind. She nods after a second, or bows again less intensely—hard to be sure.

  "They will debate the decision, but they wish to survive as much as any of us. They will surely come along. Perhaps one of the exalted Inheritors might speak with them and allay their concerns, though. Their influence with the faithful should not be dismissed, especially when fast changes are required of so many." She turns to leave on the heels of those words, apparently leaving the new godlings to decide their value. The emphasis she had put on "haste" and "faithful" is impressively subtle.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Tue 14 Apr 2020.

"I suppose that falls to me," Laila said to no-one in particular. She made no effort to hide her displeasure.

Before departing with Rashana she looked to draw Alavatter's attention once more. Laila took a step or two to close the gap, her hand raised to her shoulder to better catch his eye. It was a deliberately restrained effort, lackadaisical even, but doubtless enough in so empty a space. "We move at your pace. I seem to have a little business to attend to, but given adequate notice I should be able to make myself available at a moment." She gave a slight tilt of the head in Sani's direction. "And see that she is ready for the journey. Confer. See how you can aid one another."

At that she stepped away to walk with Rashana, and with the motion some of that steel slipped from her posture. Even if they were strangers cast in different shapes there was still a certain underlying bond born of class. It felt natural to speak with her as an equal rather than an associate of temporarily aligned purpose. A wry smile crested Laila's lips and brought a note of self-assured arrogance to her voice. "Oh, I can teach them. Not yet perhaps, but that would be where you have a part to play." A beat. "I have never held a sword, you understand. Not in this life, and perhaps not in any before it. Yet I feel a strange certainty that may change in an instant. I need only take one up and I think I should know it better than myself. I think that is my calling."

Laila looked Rashana plainly in the eyes, her voice earnest. Honest."So please: a sword. If it is your work then I know it will be fine, and that is all I ask."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:53, Wed 15 Apr 2020.

Once she and Laila were on their way from the old courthouse, Rashana motioned her to follow across the open plaza toward what had been, effectively, rendered into her workshop. The place didn't have many of the amenities one might've expected, however. Standing where one of the public buildings had once stood, the multiple floors had collapsed down into the central lobby, though, it seemed like a whole platoon of construction workers had passed through recently - an entire crew, or perhaps one single woman blessed with remarkable speed and talent.

So, the workshop was at least sheltered from external eyes, with holes in the wall to allow for materials and supplies to pass in and out - easily one the size of the wagons she would need to build.

"I actually have a few ideas for your blade... Something suitable, if you intend to try and inspire the people." She said quickly, meeting Laila's eyes at a glance. "In that light, would you mind showing me your radiance. I've heard of the talent, but I haven't seen it in action directly?" her grin revealed that she had been well aware of the pun when she'd spoken it, a casual tone at odds with the seriousness of the moment.

As she asked, she moved over and sorted through metal beams, destroyed mechanical artifacts, and stripped by hand pieces of metal. From a shattered, stained-glass window, she selected an assortment of shards, and scraps of wood that were once the handle of a desk. And, with her hands seemingly wreathed in - not quite fire, but a strange, starlike blaze, the smaller bits of more delicate gold seemed to glow with heat in her hands as she used her hands to directly shape the metal. She had the finesse of an artist, and seemingly the vision. And it was work that would've taken your typical artist hours, but already what was to be the handguard was underway - with a backbone of steel and golden filigree, it was sure to catch the light...

The salvaged wood and steel waited on a stone slab nearby, while Rashana carried the piece in progress over toward Laila.

Laila regarded the cornucopia of scattered and broken things, the esoteric and the mundane, with a measured sort of interest. Even had Rashana’s gifts not turned the place into a house of wonders, the workshop represented a corner of their world that she had never had cause to visit. It was all strange to her – likely all the more thanks to its occupant. It felt a little like being given a window into someone else’s mind to see all the fragments of ideas just waiting for that one spark of inspiration to grant them life.

On the subject of sparks…

“Of course” Laila agreed, perhaps a little too insistently as she looked to push that childish fascination down. She drew closer to Rashana as the work took shape only to find the piece instead making its way to her. An awkward sort of dance between two partners not yet in sync. She let out an amused hum. “I will go slowly, though you should look to shield your eyes. I would rather not have you blind for curiosity's sake.”

Taking another small step back, Laila smoothly removed her right glove. She had the delicate uncalloused hands of one who had seldom seen a proper day’s work in their life, not those of a seasoned warrior. Her thin fingers splayed a moment before balling into a closed fist. She gave Rashana a curt nod.

Under her intense gaze the flesh of Laila’s arm began to flush. At first it could conceivably have been the early onset of a rash, the light within granting her skin a pinkish hue, but with each passing moment that blaze grew every brighter. She stoked its aura through through reds and oranges until it reached the gleaming gold of sunfire. Then further still – a corona of pure and brilliant white light bursting forth to cast stark shadows on the walls.

And then with a casual flick of her hand it was gone, all that power dissipating into nothingness like dust upon the wind.

Alvatter traveled Irohn by foot, attempting to reach as many of the Roads as he could. It wasn't a great journey but one he made with no shortage of apprehension. He brought with him a wax tablet and stylus so that he could take notes on any of the qualities on the Roads that revealed themselves to him during his investigations. However, truth be told he wasn't truly sure what exactly he was supposed to be able to see. If danger presented itself he simply fled, unwilling and unable to counter any threat upon his life.

Rashana didn't look away, when Laila encouraged her to. At theleast, not at that particular moment, as the piece held in her hand was held up to the presented hand, and as the light grew, she made simple, quick adjustments - the stained glass shards were reshaped, repositioned, and as Laila's light intensified, it cast a refracted pattern of color through the forming pommel - at least, it did until Laila's light flared so brightly that Rashana did have to flinch away from it.

"Ah, impressive~ That's a start, at least.  The rest is easy." She turned her back to the other noble, returning to her workspace and grasping the salvaged steel. That same glow poured over the metal from the hand that held it, as another formed a hammer of gleaming starlight, and the air was filled with the sound of ringing metal for a few seconds - indeed, her first and final strikes were slow, strong, and deliberate, but in between, she accelerated her work into a living blur such that it was impossible to actually tell apart the separate strokes of the hammer by both eye and ear.

Laila could see the metal deforming almost like she were molding clay, under the heat of a star and a hammer that seemed just as brilliant and dense. More came - she moved aside, to a... structure that Laila felt sure hadn't been there a moment ago, sliding the blade into oil to quench it, a series of temperings, refinements to the edge, the form.

In the end, she assembled it all, using leather straps to form a grip for the handle - and, in the process, she did reach out to lightly touch Laila's hand, perhaps checking the contours of it in the process. It seemed she was sparing no effort on this particular piece.

When at last it was done - barely five minutes after she had begun, she drew the blade from a decorated but subdued scabard, holding it out by the handle and blade to Laila.

It was expertly formed - a single edged blade with a curve that suited a style of elegance, but it was straight enough to be viable for both thrusts and slashes, the curve slight enough that it wouldn't take a great deal of practice to become accustomed to. The golden pommel was backed by steel, durable, but still impressive without having any points to disrupt combat or snag on obstructions. The stained glass decorated the grip, and... "Try channeling your light through it. If I've got the measurements right, it'll be quite a show. It won't be anything your light isn't already, but it's sure to help you make an impression - I get the feeling that's going to matter. Give it a few swings - does it feel good in your hand? I made it a bit shorter - your light is a worthy weapon for distance, and this seemed the right size for you. Lighter, too, that's why it's got the curve, extra strength, so I could make it thinner."

Even so, all of the designs Laila had seen of her work reflected a sense of aesthetic qualities - even the ballistae she constructed earlier. It seemed she was an artist first, and the full scope of practical creation was, to a point, an aspect of her gifts.

Miraculous. Truly there wasn’t any other word for it. Laila could only look on enraptured as the work of an entire team of artisans played out before her eyes, a project that might have taken weeks to refine and perfect reduced to a matter of mere minutes. She replaced her glove, leaned back against a nearby trestle table – not before gingerly testing its stability – and simply watched the master ply her craft. It made for quite the show.

She flinched just a moment when Rashanna unexpectedly touched her hand, but that was all it was.

Laila graciously accepted the generous gift, handling it with the sort of care reserved for holy relics – which she supposed one could argue the weapon was. She ran two fingers along the flat of the blade as she admired its polished mirror sheen. It was a thing of beauty as well as a tool of death, so much so that the thought of sullying its perfection carried with a hint of displeasure. She pushed the thought aside. Ultimately it was but a weapon and a tool. To make it anything more than that was to lose sight of the part they had to play.

“A little room,” she gently urged as she took her own step back. Then another. Laila allowed herself a single calming breath, eyes closed, and then began.

Her fingers traced the blade once more, but this time they left a cold silvery glow in their wake that stretched until the weapon was alight from guard to tip like gleaming moonsilver. She pushed further. It looked for all the world as though the blade was no longer mere metal but formed of brilliant light that flickered beyond its bounds like a living flame. Fractals scattered through the air and wreathed the sword in the memory of a rainbow. It did not outshine its bearer but it was a different kind of light, ordered and forged into a beauteous shape while hers burned wild and free.

In one smooth movement, with the ease of a practiced hand, Laila raised the blade before her. She held it aloft a moment before transitioning through her guards – medium, outer, high, low, tail. Seemingly satisfied she let dropped all pretences and simply brought the weapon about in a series of lazy arcs to watch the way its image lingered on the air. Finally she returned it to the scabbard and let out a satisfied sigh.

“This is a very fine thing. That you made it so quickly and with such ease … even I must say I am impressed. It does you credit.” Despite her measured words the childlike grin threatening to claim Laila’s face was plain as day. She absolutely adored it. “If there is anything I can do for you – now or at a later time – then ask it of me and I shall commit myself. This deserves no less.”

Finally that facade broke. She smiled without restraint. “What I mean to say is thank you.”

Alvatter studies the Roads, cross-referencing the observed qualities with records kept by Anaya's inner circle of priests. Strangely, he finds he rarely needs to actually consult the records - simply asking the question is enough to bring the answer to the front of his mind.

After a day of work, a day of losing the realm to Night, he has an answer. A Road out on the edge of the remaining territory matches the description, rough location, and qualities of one recorded in the texts. It apparently is safer for travel than most, and leads to a place called the Nexus which is a stable realm, uninhabited at the time of writing.

The artisan stepped back, giving Laila time to bond with and test her creation with a flourish of slashes at air, to get used to the weight. She watched with keen eyes, and, once she finished, she reached a hand out, taking the blade gently, and softly molded a softer curve into the handle to better suit the contours of Laila's hand. "... There~"

Seeing Laila metaphorically light up rather than actually still made Rashana smile. "Well, it's just an ordinary blade, just made with your light in mind. If you shine it through those crystals it'll look pretty impressive. If you want some magic to it, later, I'll be happy to improve it. But, that's for the future." She lowered her eyes, looking away with an almost shy blush to her cheeks at the gratitude, before nodding a bit. "It's the least I could do. You needed something suited to the position you seem to be taking. If you need armor or other gear, please let me know." She paused and then chuckled, shaking her head. "I might call a favor later, but, really, there's no need to keep an account on this right now. Maybe you can help me get some people organized and trained to use my weapons."

  Having left the presence of the godlings, La does not return to the Great Hall that day.  Instead, she takes her notes back to the Dreamers' main temple and, a few hurried messengers later, brings them before the Most Sagacious Intermediaries. The elder priests are uncommonly discordant under the stress of the unfamiliar, and are actually in the midst of a heated argument when La arrives.  She manages to silence them all at once with a soft, but clear announcement: "Holy Ones, this one arrives with the designs of the Inheritors, as you instructed her."

  "Well come forward, girl!  Don't just stand there."
  "Yes!  Yes, what are they going to do about the damage to the estuary?"
  "Sod your estuary, Sangnam!  This is an emergency!  We need to establish safe places for the populace and organize a, a, a rebuttal!"
  "You mean reprisal, Boryat, and we can't even consider that until we can reclaim the forges and begin—"
  "I've told you twenty times, Intermediary, I will hear no further talk of weapons!  The scriptures in the Order's vaults are very clear about—"
  "With all available respect, Chairman Peilong, there is clear evidence from the Wind-Water Monitoring Stations that the Order's vaults have become a spawning ground for those creatures, so I hardly think..."

  La waits another awkward minute while the sages' fear breaks its shackles and pulls them back down into useless quarreling.  Truth be told, it has her at something of a loss for direction: these are her role models and spiritual guides, and here they are panicking incoherently.  In a moment's silence, she interjects, "They mean to guide us into the night, to find a safe new world," and then chaos reigns.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:46, Sun 19 Apr 2020.

Meanwhile, the Keepers were organizing the people.  They had long turned from abstraction, out of necessity -- their interest was in mending wounds, souls, and the land -- and these needs did not allow for high debate.  Indeed, as they had turned more and more to wealth and profit, the Keepers had only organized the more, and their system of tithes had produced ledgers and records of people and places, lines of communication... in short, all the bureaucracy of a mature religious institution.

And so, Sani, with the High Keeper, activated the intermediate and junior priests.  People sprung into action, preparing for the journey, making lists, organizing wagon groups, packing.  Funds were drawn down -- the Temple's secret cache of gold and drugs, not the old fiat.  Promises of positions in the new world were made, and hands were shaken.  Rivalries and alliances were reevaluated.

For the large majority, there would be no more inaction or hiding in houses.  A gathering was organized -- for the Hour of the Lotus.  Who would speak, Sani did not know -- but it need be, she would do it, Anaya willing.  She couldn't shake that habit, no matter how she tried.  Anaya was gone, but not gone.

The High Keeper, for his part, was a pragmatic and deeply spiritual man at once, with greying hair, and features more youthful than one would expect.  He was a financial genius, and when it came to bureaucracy, he was an expert.  That he had been corrupt was of no consequence.  He saw in Sani a key to survival, and he was by no means a fool.

So it was that a Senior Keeper knocked on the gate of the Dreamers' temple and invited them to join their efforts.  There were some -- of the Dreamer persuasion -- who refused to leave their homes, quarreling with the Keepers who came.  Would the Dreamers convince them to begin packing for the exodus?

After the others had left, Joshua sat alone, considering what all had been said. He agreed with them, haste was not wise, but soon it would be the only way left.
But enough of that, those thoughts wouldn't help now. The others had their own preparations to attend to, as did he.

He left the building and walked with purpose through the city, following the sounds of panic and chaos to find the largest riot. When he found it, he did not act immediately, instead simply observing. These people, they had lost themselves, looting and pillaging with no heed to the problem at hand. A lesser man would have left them to their fate.

Fortunately for them, Joshua couldn't just leave them. Drawing his pistol, he fired three shots into the air to gain the mob's attention before speaking, restrained anger evident on his face and in his voice. "Look at yourselves, stealing and destroying like common thugs. Times are dark, but that does not permit you to behave like wild animals. Listen to me, you are all to calmly return home and pack essentials in preparation for evacuation. Food and clothes primarily, anything you can easily carry. Am I understood?"

He watched the crowd disperse before sighing and going in search of the next one. The work was never done.

Joshua dismisses the rioters, who scurry off to their homes with expressions of shame and shock and fear. None of them raise hand or even voice against him, and he leaves the great city in, if not peace, at least better circumstances than it might have been. The Dreamers and the Keepers take a central role in coordinating the evacuation. In the halls of the great and powerful, harsh words fly, but in the end, an agreement is reached, a quiet handshake over a glass of wine.

Elsewhere, hands are being trained rather than shaken. Under Rashana's guidance, a volunteer militia is being instructed on the use of the weapons she is crafting. The work goes by in a blur, the militia learning far more quickly than mortals ought to. It simply feels...natural, they say. It feels like they were born for this moment.

The next morning, as such things go in a world of eternal twilight, Alvatter speaks to the Order. The discussion grows heated, arguments over what portions of the vast archive are most important, and what can be abandoned to the Night. Ultimately, though, an agreement is reached here as well, and the work of packing books and data drives alike begins.

And in the end, by midmorning of this day, all are agreed: they are as ready as they will be, and there is no more time to spend. The Uncreated are beating on the walls of the city, the Night has almost reached the opening of the Road Alvatter found, and the natural laws of the world are beginning to degrade. It is time to leave.

---

The group gathers again at the head of the column, leading the march out to the edge of the world. The march is quiet, filled with anxiety, though Rashana's siege enginges make quick work of the few Uncreated you see. Only a few hours later, around midday, you reach the Road. It hangs in midair, an ellipse twenty feet high and ten feet wide, a foot off the ground. On the other side...darkness, a dark so deep that it eclipses any mere absence of light, that it swallows light up like a whisper in a hurricane, a dark that hurts the eye to consider.

Uncreated Night.

After a moment, you can make out the Road. It is made of tiny tubes of glass, or something similar enough to glass that it is hard not to think of it as such. They are woven together like threads in a tapestry, creating a mesh of glass twenty feet wide. Over and beneath and all around, the Night looms close - but the glass is faintly luminous, and on the Road itself, there seems to be a margin of safety.

  Sani is not there long at all before an initiate comes scurrying up to welcome the visitor.  That the visitor is among the Inheritors only adds to her haste, and she nearly trips over her vestments on her way to greet the chosen one.  "Oh!  Honored Inheritor!  You bless us with your presence here!" she exclaims and holds up her robes a few inches for the last few paces.  "Do you come to meet the Dreamers?  They are in counsel, but I'm sure they will welcome you."

  On hearing that yes, Sani is there for an audience with the Most Sagacious Intermediaries, her enthusiasm almost gets the better of her again, and she has endless questions to ask as they walk.  Far too soon for the initiate, they arrive at a set of tall, fancifully-carved jade doors, where she asks Sani to wait.  There is a smaller, simpler door off to the right, disguised but its brass inlays as part of the wall mural, and it makes no sound as she slips through.  The larger doors do make a bit of noise when they open a minute later.  It's the girl from the meeting earlier who parts them, and she is bowing even as she spreads them.  Beyond is a lavishly-appointed room that blends elements of an office and a salon, with close to a dozen elder priests at considerable leisure within.  They look precisely as though they've paused an ongoing discussion.

  "Chosen among the Keepers, please come in.  The masters wish to hear from you."  La drifts sideways, out of the center of the portal, without raising her head and closes the doors behind Sani.  The Intermediaries, it turns out, are extremely receptive to the demigod's encouragement.

---

  "Honored ones," La begins, approaching from behind.  The Dreamers have been sending her as a messenger since the column of refugees began to assemble.  Her gentle surety has an uncanny way of quelling unrest wherever she goes, and by the time the Inheritors reach the Night Road, the population of Irohn is as unified in purpose as could possibly be asked, under the circumstances.  That is not to say pacified, though.

  "Rumors are spreading through those who have not yet seen this..." She frowns at the opening and gestures with one broad sleeve when words fail to come.  And then, of course, she lowers her eyes again.  "And those who have seen find salvation nearly as terrifying as doom.  Please do not fault them their weaknesses; they have never been asked to trust so profoundly."

  And a murmuring is growing in the crowd behind her, which nonetheless gradually presses closer in a semicircle some fifty feet back from the ominous hole in the world.  A quick look at the faces shows enough to make her point: they would soon be teetering on a knife's edge between hope and terror, if they are not already.  "Our Intermediaries and priests are raising spirits as they are able, aided by the Bower of Keepers, but they are familiar, and the danger is unknown.  If you wish to maintain order, the people may benefit from periodic reassurances."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:15, Fri 08 May 2020.

Alvatter stood beside the other Inheritors and did his best to appear calm and in charge. In reality a cold sweat had broken out across his body and his throat had run dry. He had lived through countless incarnations in this plane with no conception of places beyond its boundaries or desires to reach them. Yes their had been discussion within the Order about such things but it was never more than the idle chatter of intellectuals. Now it was their own chance at survival. He looked to the others and nodded.

"Time is of the essence. We must advance quickly if we are to survive. If you have any mechanisms or powers which might increase the likelihood of us surviving I believe now would be an opportune moment to enact them."

"I'm all set on that front~!" Came Rashana's call. She was in constant motion during the march, seemingly moving between her various engines, checking up whenever one fired, to further spur the crew onward - and to replenish their supply of ammunition - she only provided room for carrying a few shots on each wagon, given the weight - since she could manufact them on demand, it was strictly a mechanism to give each a few shots without her attention. It seemed that whatever metaphysical techniques would be invoked, they were not in her sphere of expertise.

The sight of the gateway, the road, though, drew her curiosity. Glass-like, but not quite. She resisted the urge to tear free a sample of the material - later, perhaps, when they had crossed the road, she could break free a piece the better to examine it.

La's approach prompted the hard-working noble to turn and cast a glance over her, then back to the dark and gaping entry of the road. "It... hadn't occurred to me, but, hmm... Laila might be able to help with that, being the whole light in the dark... Might help with their nerves at the least."

Rashana seemed eager to move inside, though, and headed up for the front and center siege wagon, vaulting up and displacing the current gunner, settling herself to be on guard for what might emerge - or be waiting for their advance.

The column moves onwards, shambling and stumbling at times, but always with a clear sense of purpose about them. The first few steps onto the woven-glass mat that makes up the Road's surface are hesitant, unsure whether it is safe. Or rather, unsure how it is not, for there seems very little chance that this place is truly safe.

But the glass proves to be a perfectly viable, albeit strange, walking surface. It has just a touch of give under one's foot, a little like walking on a trampoline, but after slight adjustment it becomes simple to move on. Far more unsettling is the Night that presses in all around, close and hungry. There's simply no getting used to it, no way to become accustomed to the too-dark blackness that swims on all sides of this Road. The glass seems impossibly frail, to stand as your only protection against Uncreated Night's eternal hunger, and yet you walk on, unharmed. The refugees quickly learn to not look at the darkness, but rather to focus only on those in front of them, on walking in time with the mass, on the next step in front of them.

Time seems to be a strangely malleable creature, out here in the Night. Those clocks you might have are disagreeing with each other on how much time has passed, and the people are in the same condition, with some growing tired and hungry, while others seem able to simply walk on and on, with no need for respite. There is no rhyme or reason, no method to the madness, that anyone can ascertain.

Between this and the constant, alien nature of the surroundings, it is hard to say how long you have been walking when the eerie stillness of the Road breaks. When it does, it happens fast, terribly fast. One moment, you are walking through a sea of darkness upon a Road of glass, with no greater threat than the disturbing nature of the trip and the constant unease born of wondering when the other shoe will drop. The next, it has, all at once and with no warning.

The Uncreated are the same blacker-than-black void as the Night that they inhabit, in this space, and as a result there is no way to see them coming. The first awareness of them does not come until they are descending into the small tube of light that surrounds the luminescent Road. They come from above, and beyond that fact, it is very difficult to say anything about them with confidence. They are moving through the air, but not in the fashion of winged creatures; it seems as though they are simply walking on something that you cannot perceive and suspect you do not want to. They do not closely resemble any mortal creature that you could name; they have the long, lithe bodies of hunting cats, but too many legs arranged without any sense of symmetry, like a nightmare of a spider.

How many are there? That, too, is difficult to tell with any confidence. They seem to split from one into many, and to merge back again. After examination it becomes clear that there are two such...clusters, perhaps, would be the word, if words existed that could capture the nature of Uncreated Night. One is at the front of the convoy, one at the rear.

It's the former that deals the first great blow. They had seized several of the refugees by that point, of course, in the first few moments of their attack; the hapless victims were torn to pieces or thrown off the Road to vanish into the darkness. The Uncreated, it seemed, had no need to devour their prey, and indeed, it was not obvious whether they even had mouths with which to consume.

Then Joshua Smith, the heritor who had stood as the hand of Justice in a world spinning itself to pieces, stood up to face the hunters. He had his pistol in hand, a battered tool that like the man and his world had seen better days, but which was still functional. Shot after shot rang out, each one piercing the darkness like a ray of burning light, and where they struck, the Uncreated faltered and fell.

But then one of the components of that front cluster attacks from below, passing through the Road as though it is an insubstantial thing, naught but shadow and mist. Its long legs sweep down upon the Judge, and in a moment, he stands no more against the darkness, but falls like a dying star. The front cluster of the Uncreated falls with him, as his soul in death brings the power of vengeance that had been granted him to bear upon the monsters.

Behind, the Uncreated fall back to the edge of sight, still present, but not immediately attacking, and hanging back far enough that they are difficult to see clearly or target with weapons. Ahead...the Road is open. The people of Irohn shift and mutter, fear plain to see upon their faces. It seems obvious that the Uncreated are in some fashion herding you, now. Pressing from behind, with one path open in front. But what are they chasing you towards? And do you have a choice in following that direction? After all, even if you could break through the Uncreated behind without terrible losses, this Road was your best chance, and there have been no branches that you could perceive - it seems there is only one direction to go, on the Night Road. No way out but through.

Paralyzed, rabbit-like, Sani watched Joshua's fall, and it was cataclysm again, like losing Anaya again, a pang too hard to bear. A cold chill washed over her heart, tightening like a vise, grasping, deadening limbs and motives, snuffing, and.

Just as she was about to burst, she saw a warm glitter was on the road ahead.  It was Joshua's pistol, all that remained, and Sani sprang forward, cradling it protectively in her arms, as if it represented the man himself, as if it promised safety. Still warm from use, reassuring, not cold like the void, but of the patient, stern craft of Anaya.

And suddenly she was handing Joshua Pistols to others: whence they came, she could not say.  "Take one; pass it on; protect the others; keep moving, " she whispered, giving in to instinct and the rumor of quiet, somber whispers, a wind in a tunnel where nothing had stirred but darkness deeper than night for both years and instants.

Who can say if the pistols would work against the night, but perhaps this wasn't a fight for weapons anyway.

She took a step forward.

Alvatter looked on in stunned silence as his blood ran cold and moisture fled from his mouth and throat. He could only gasp inaudibly as the nightmarish night creatures descended on the group of survivors. He watched with horrid fascination as the mouthless abominations killed and cast aside the frightened masses. Their deaths brutal and meaningless, the unearned fruits of savage madness and malice. It was only the sounds of gunfire that brought him back to himself and he saw Joshua bringing forth blasts of blasting fire-light against the cluster of arachnoid felines.

Looking around he saw the second cluster passing through the bridge as it were immaterial and attacked Joshua. It was a suicidal strike but one which claimed the Inheritor. Alvatter grimaced as the man fell into the infinite darkness beyond. He did not know Joshua well but he did not deserve this. Had Anaya given them power just to sacrifice them? Or were they truly beyond her merciful grace?

He didn't know, nor could he, but he hoped that Joshua's death was swift and merciful. Instead he moved to the front of the group, speaking to any of the Inheritors at the lead.

"We must move forward. There is no turning back. If the Uncreated attack again I may be able to bar them from this Road with magic but I will need an arcane connection. Otherwise my powers are limited."

  La really seems to have a knack for showing up just when doubt is peaking.  She approaches the new leaders of their people with a trace of hesitation, the most shaken they've seen her yet, despite everything.  She carries a small tray with a teapot and a handful of empty cups, and manages to bow without rattling it when they notice her.  "Have some tea, my lords—some chrysanthemum tea.  It's an old remedy for nightmares."  Her voice is strained, too.  But compared to the rest of the common folk, she is a pillar of confidence, or resolve, or whatever she's drawing on.  She lifts the pot and begins pouring before anyone can demur.

  "This one regrets that she must trouble you with unpleasant news, Honored Ones.  But the rearmost of our people are very nearly in a panic.  The Keepers are doing their best to soothe troubled spirits, but... many have died, my lords, and many more have witnessed it." She fidgets uncomfortably, and the heart breaks to see her pain. It takes an exertion of will to not leap to comfort her immediately. She turns toward Laila, though still does not raise her eyes to improperly meet theirs.

  "Most puissant sun who guards the horizon, this one cannot help but think your light would be a great reassurance at the head of our march. The dark is full of terrors here, and our people's feet would quicken toward your warmth and safety. And, if it is not too bold of this one to suggest—”  La turns to look at Alvatter's feet the same way someone from a more worthy caste might sternly meet his eyes.  "The guidance of the insatiable knower may...  The Dreamers have many rituals for keeping nightmares at bay. They believe the greatest of these may be adapted to drive off the nightmares that stalk us, but with your greater understanding of magical theory, we could be assured of success. I could bring you to them."

Rashana had been ever-busy as seemed normal for her. She is a rush of quiet speed as she slips from one side of the mass to the next, barely noticed by the people she slips past.  Quiet, hidden maintenance on the axles of wagons or resupplying the ammunition for the various ballistae. The work of a thousand people, carried out across the force almost unnoticed.

When Joshua stood against the Uncreated at the fore, she wasn't there - no, she was a distance back, and she shoved aside the crew of one of her Ballistae, offering fire support to help him at range, so far as she could. But even that wasn't enough to turn the odds. She stayed with her aim trained, as Sani rushed out to collect his fallen gun, and she exhaled in relief, once she made it back with the weapon.

Leaving the weapon back in the hands of its assigned crew, she worked her way back to the remainder of the Inheritors, and that same particular servant... Unusual, especially given how collected she was managing to be in the moment...

She arrived as Bire was encouraging Laila to stand up and guide the group. "Easy to say. I've had my suspicions, but seeing how that played out with Joshua confirmed my theory - they seem to be trying to intentionally direct or herd our travel - mind, I've seen only the one possible route, so unless there's some potential to divert our course, they really need not bother." She considered. "Perhaps the group ahead is severing or blocking connection with alternate routes. This place operates on strange laws." She looked to the mystic. "I would think perhaps taking a firmer hand of this road would be wise. If that's something you or the old texts can achieve, it would be a good decision, I think. I've been making sure none of the wagons break down, and keeping the ballistae in ammunition as I can."

Laila had made a point to station herself near the head of their column during the journey. Perhaps she wasn’t truly leading the expedition but she certainly felt it necessary to present that image, firm in the belief that that people needed to see that vision of confidence even if the ground she stood on was no less shaky. They needed someone who would step up, take responsibility and be ready for whatever the Roads might throw their way. And that would be her.

Of course when the threat finally came she wasn’t ready for it at all.

Something had sung in her blood, a sudden primal urge to throw herself into the fray. It was a familiar sort of feeling, a rising heat that was always there on the cusp of violence, yet she once again did her best to clamp it down. The enemy was unknown, the environment unfamiliar and potentially treacherous, and the safety of their people was undeniably the most pressing concern. This wasn’t a situation where she – they – could afford for her to blindly hope to throw herself into the fray and bludgeon the foe down through raw force and power. There was no path without risk, and a cautious defense seemed far more advisable than rushing in and leaving their rear undermanned.

Naturally she could only curse under her breath when Joshua rushed in alone. It was exactly the thing she’d cautioned him on before: action for action’s sake. She had been readying herself to back him up and then …

Stupid. Stupid wasteful idiot.

---

Laila accepted the offered cup, and the plea accompanying it, with a slight nod but no further acknowledgement. Bire La’s assessment was certainly one she could agree with. The people needed hope, needed something they could cling onto, now more than ever. That was her burden to shoulder.

She did her best to show Rashana a smile but the tension she was holding robbed it of warmth. “Your efforts are appreciated of course. Any defence is welcome even if we cannot be sure how useful it will prove.”

A sip from her cup as she considered her next words. Laila had a certain feeling they might be taken poorly, not that such would stop her.

“We will mourn Joshua, mourn all our fallen, when it is safe to do so, but for now you should all remember this...” she lowered her voice, a heaviness to the look she gave her fellow inheritors. “No matter what we do, people are going to die. We cannot save them all, and Joshua fell in vain having chosen to put their lives before his own. A noble effort, certainly, but a foolish one. A waste of power and faith that will hurt us more in time than the deaths of those he hoped to save.” A bitter little sigh. “Call me callous if you wish but that will not change the truth of it. We are Anaya’s chosen, and if we die then any hope of saving her people dies with us.”

“I will do all I can to give them the promise of hope, but I will not risk the many for the few. We must learn what we can from this all loss – and quickly.”

Her voice rose again without that weight. “For now, I shall give them my light. It will not drown out this darkness but I am sure any beacon in this storm will be quite welcome.”

When Laila spoke up, at the gathering, Rashana went quiet, answering her brief address with a firm nod. Then, though, she had more to say, and Rashana stayed quiet for that, too.  Rashana was... eminently practical. Even after what she'd seen, she was still focused on practical solutions, not the losses suffered.  Laila's address was enough to give her pause. She should, maybe, care more than she did. Maybe she cared more than she was able to let herself register, now, in the moment. Part of her hoped that was we case, anyway.

Her head gave a slight shake, and she moved over to Laila, putting a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of support. "I think I get the idea. From a practical point of view, anyway. It's important that people trust and follow us, and seeing one of us get taken down like that gives them room to doubt us. I don't claim to be infallible, either, but leading people is easier when they're willing to follow you." She said, perhaps softening Laila's hard commentary into something others might understand better.

"If any of you need something, let me know - I'll do my best to provide." She said after a moment's pause, pulling her hand back, and taking a sip of her drink in turn, followed by a sigh. "But, for now, I should concentrate of maintaining our convoy and manning the ballistae, and manning them should trouble come."

Sani drank the tea with shaky hands, sloshing some over the odd path below, and whenever she seemed ready to speak, she thought again, and drank another mighty gulp -- as if that solved all problems.

But at last, she could not be quiet, and Laila's words drove tears to her eyes, perhaps, perhaps because they were too true.

"If Joshua hadn't... hadn't tried, so many more people... would have died.  How can you place his life over theirs, if that was his choice?  Anaya herself died for us!  Would you rather she had left us to the darkness?  Then she could live another day... to save others.  Was her choice wrong?  That's... That's what you are saying!"

Surprise blossomed on her features - the anger was so hot, hotter than the tea, as hot as Joshua's gun had been in her hands, as hot as the tears that fell faster and faster. She was a mess, and she felt the heavy weight of a grief that was so akin to despair. And yet she knew it as a power against the Road and kept it close to her heart.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:47, Sat 08 Aug 2020.

Alvatter considered Bire La's words.

"If I can be of any assistance to the Dreamers and their rituals I will. There are others of my order that have survived the journey, they can assist me as well."

He then turned his attention to the others as they discussed the events, the corralling of the survivors on this Road, and the lose of Joshua to endless Night. He was going to speak until Laila's outburst and then decided it was best to give things a moment. Once that had passed he spoke in a calm, even tone.

"I personally researched this Road, selecting it from among countless others. It is by far the most stable and traversible of those that were available to us. If these...things have any cunning or intellect it would not have been a hard deduction to make that we would follow this path. If anything given the number of beings we have encountered I believe this to be more a matter of ill providence rather than intentional machination."

"Regardless our options are singular: forward. If we do not move to a stable plane before Irohn collapses we will all die. I do not know how stable this Road will be or what lies ahead but death is guaranteed if we do not move and quickly. Nothing else is of consequence. Nothing beyond the survival of these people."

With that he turned to Bire La.

"Help me gather the Dreamers and the acolytes of the Order. We must mount some magical defense, if only to buy us moments."

A moment of calm, in the midst of the Night. Decisions made. Sacrifices mourned, but only briefly, before the needs of the living take precedence over the loss of the fallen.

Alvatter, working in conjunction with the seniormost of the Dreamers and learned arcanists of his own Order, devises a ritual. It's of necessity a rushed thing, cobbled together in the back of a wagon rolling down the Road. The diagrams and power structures are less precise than one would hope, and there wasn't time to triple-check that the two disciplines are working together in a way that will not tear the spell apart. But the invocation is spoken, voices and wills raised in defiance of the Night, and...it works. Not perfectly, not a flawless protection, nor one that can be guaranteed to last indefinitely. But for now, the light of the Road shines a little brighter, pushing back the darkness just a little further. And the ballistae, which had been occupied forcing back intermittent approaches by the Uncreated from behind, are afforded a time to rest.

That light is met by another light from the front of the column, where Laila stands as a beacon to lead the column onward. The radiance pouring from her is not quite bright enough to make it painful to look forward, but it is bright enough to be visible from far back in the column. Those closest behind her move a little faster, emboldened by the sight of this divine illumination.

The contributions of the other heritors are, perhaps, less easily adapted to a heroic epic. But they are no less needed. Coordination, supplies, and repairs are all essential, to keep an exodus of this size moving. None of it happens on its own, and with so much of the infrastructure being divine in origin, it requires constant attention to keep everything and everyone working together.

Time being what it is, in this place, it is difficult to say with confidence how long passes before another change happens to break up the monotony of the endless march. When it does, it becomes visible to those in the front of the column first, as suddenly as flicking a switch. One moment, there is nothing but the glass road leading forward. The next, a sort of palatial structure looms in front of you, perhaps a hundred feet distant, or a little less. It is grand in scale, a hundred feet tall or so and broad. The walls are the same glass mesh that you've been walking along, but here the glass is colored, swirls of vivid color that obscure vision deeper into the structure.

A low and steady hum can be faintly heard coming from the building. It is not entirely clear what is producing the sound.

Alvatter was initially suspicious of how effective the arts of the Order and the Dreamers would be. While not diametrically opposed they sought different objectives and their ways were largely foreign to him save the sparse academic knowledge the Order had collected of their 'magical' traditions and rituals. Still they harmonized surprisingly well and to great effect within the Road. Perhaps it was a consequence of their environment or perhaps their two paths were simply more amendable to one another than he had initially anticipated.

Still as the palatial structure came into sight he called out to the group.

"Halt!"

He repeated it as necessary until the entire caravan was stopped. He then called for his colleagues to gather once more, all the while eyeing the structure suspiciously.

"Does anyone have any idea about how or why this palace is here? Or what that humming sound maybe?"

  La had hovered close throughout the combined effort, keeping the sages' pipes fresh and delivering ritual tools almost before they knew they needed it: a few commented as much, displaying no small pride in the girl. Some of the diviners' traditional charms for preventing nightmares had nuances that only entirely made sense if they had decayed from much more complex and powerful magic in the past. It was a bit of a stretch to adapt it for these living(?) nightmares, but Alvatter's miraculous expertise clearly equaled the task. Something distant stole into her face every time she spotted him approaching the sages directly, but her manner was impeccable regardless. And when her tasks had ended, she conducted her own small, private prayer. And there had been power in it.

  She is still nearby when Alvatter orders the halt, and immediately she turns to whisper something to a woman beside her. The woman whispers something to a man next to her, who says something to his children, and by then the woman has passed the message to two more. And that goes on until the wave of sussurus spreads out of earshot, and you can only track it by how quickly the swath is to obey—the whole column is brought to heel sooner than anyone with authority took up and relayed the Inheritor's order. And she stays nearby while the rest of the Chosen gather to discuss their situation. There are enough cups of tea going around, the whole area smells like chamomile and poppyseed.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Fri 14 Aug 2020.

Sani just gaped and wondered whether they had found the den of the awful creatures, or perhaps something worse. She stared at the tall structure, still holding Joshua's Gun, limply in her hand.

Anything was better than the Road.

Right?

   "This one has heard the wisdom of the Most Puissant Sun, and cannot deny it.  In your hands, the future of Irohn.  Your hands must stay alive.  This one is of no consequence.  She will go in ahead and discover any ambush that may have been laid against you." La raised her head toward the sudden obstruction and looked up and down its walls.  Her hands vanished into her sleeves when she bowed again.  Someone passing by had... taken the tea service just at that instant...

  "This one only suggests herself because she is present now, exalted ones.  If this one is inadequate to the task, she can fetch another at your pleasure."

"I--I have no idea, " Sani replied to their leader. "What could it be?"

When Brie volunteered to go alone, she said, "No!  Let's all go together.  It's not like we have a choice, but you saw what happened to Joshua -- we need to stick together."

  "You... will be sticking together, exalted one. It is the purpose of this one's offer. If there is any danger, you will know in time to coordinate your response." The girl gave an uncertain cringe that failed to convincingly play a smile, then turned her face toward the edifice. "This one cannot argue, of course. If the Honored Inheritor wishes to be the first to enter, it is not this one's place to object."

Alvatter nodded his head in agreement with Sani.

"Sani is right. We should move together. We have all received the blessing of Anaya. That must mean something beyond the simple inheritance of power."

"Besides I have seen what power we might call upon by unifying the mystic ways of the Dreamers and the arcane knowledge of the Order. This night palace shall not overwhelm us."

The group of heritors moves into the palace, finding it surprisingly simple in layout. There are clear halls, a few rooms that hold odd-looking glass constructions, and doorways built of something that looks much akin to silver.

As you move further into the palace, though, you start to notice a certain...wrongness. The colors woven through the glass tubes of this place's walls take on a sort of too-vibrant tone, virulent and pulsing with life. It looks wrong in a way that is rather divorced from the Night - this is not an emptiness, not a hunger, but a corruption of something, taking what is and twisting it. It is tainting the construction of this place with some energy that does not feel natural, or clean. The same taint has spread into several of the devices, most of which are no longer working once they have been corrupted in this way.

And then, at the dead center of the palace, and some four floors up from the Road, there stands a much larger door, silver and glass. It is the first in this place that has been closed, and locked as well. It positively throbs with that pulsing, virulent intensity, and you get the instinctive sense that the corruption is spreading from here like blood pulsing out from an unearthly heart.

Rashana had joined them, as their debate raged on. It had taken a fair bit of effort for her to convince the nerve-rattled folk manning her towers not to open fire on the bizarre towers, and she relayed as much as she joined the others. At Bire's suggestion of her going first to investigate, she keenly shook her head. "No, if anyone goes first, it should be me. That place is clearly a structure of some note, and some power rests in its walls. I may be able to help comprehend what we're dealing with there, especially if ways are barred or traps lurk inside."

True enough, she turns her eye to the various inoperable devices, doing what she can to discern the form and function of this strange place. The discover of the locked and barred silver door, pulsing with energy, and seemingly a bulwark against strange corruption, gave her pause, though. It would be trivial for her to break the locked seal and open the door... but what was on the other side...?

"I could open this door. Could. But I'm unsure if I should. I sense something inside, perhaps dangerous, definitely powerful..." She said quietly.

(Rolled an Intelligence Check (13 >3+, with possible fact bonus; Success either way) with the intent of seeing what she can deduce or learn about the various devices, this structure, and the strange power she can feel within? She's also got the Theft and Artiface Words that may help with minor miracle perks for access to insights or understandings, if this stuff is valuable, ect?)

  "This one is not trained to evaluate sorceries," La admits. She is at that moment evaluating the extent of the rot every handful of paces. She stops when another of her seemingly endless subordinates approaches and whispers something in her ear before backing out of the room and trying to keep his eyes straight ahead on the way out. Of course, the Servant girl is there. She says she'd been sent by whatever fancy title she called the high priests she worked for. Apparently, over-performing chatelaine is the heart of her duties in the temple, too.

  "The will of Irohn, Chosen Ones," she explains, hastening back in toward the center. "The populace would consider themselves much safer, I am told, from behind these castle walls. The attacks are light, but they still come. The people who need to know what lurks further in already know, and they believe our people could be kept to the places still clean. This one does not know enough of engineering to judge those claims."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:31, Tue 25 Aug 2020.

Rashana took some time to think over the situation, the structure, and what she could make of the function of it all. It was distinct in a big way from the road itself, and everything they had seen so far...

It seemed like the center of the Road's structure, in a strange way. Foundational, perhaps responsible for creating and maintaining the road they'd been travelling? These odd engines seemed to be the source of the road's stability. Troubling, then, that the sense of power behind that locked door seemed in some way either aimed at establishing the road, or destroying it. The former hinted that perhaps it was used to connect to Irohn intentionally, possibly to draw the predations of the Uncreated, or perhaps to serve as access for someone who had traveled it to reach their former world. Alternately, maybe the connection had always existed quietly, and this change was a new one, or some effort to break off a link that was now dangerous, with the Uncreated swarming their home.

Rashana played the possibilities in her mind, but soon put them aside to consider the immediate - whether the road was maintained by or being damaged by what was within, it was probably something that they should open up and investigate - if it were under threat, they needed to preserve the road - if not, perhaps it could offer means of facilitating a better escape or offer some knowledge of a destination beyond traveling blindly into darkness.

It was, though, ultimately clear - whatever else waited behind the door - it blocked their way to the end of the road. It would have to be opened.

She gathered the others, once she'd made her assessments and briefed them as such on her findings. There was no way to go but through, and that may be a dangerous prospect, or a very good one - regardless, great care should be used with the engines and machinery within, else harm may befall the road itself.

"I can open the way." She finished. "It's locked, but I can simply take that lock apart. Like anything else, it can be dismantled. I just think we should all be present and prepared for anything, before I do."

(OOC: I should be able to bypass the lock with the Theft passive ability. It may (probably) require effort committed for the scene to overcome a magical lock, at GM discretion)

  "This one can tell you only this, to aid in that decision: the nightmares at your people's heels want you to. It is the only explanation of their activity." La has undeniably sidled into something of an advisory position, it at least has come to behave that way. Old habits, most likely. While Rashana investigates more thoroughly, she fields increasingly urgent questions from various factions of the gathered refugees. With the investigation surer now, she presents them at the first opportunity.

  "There may be no other way forward, but the Honored Inheritors should be well-prepared for whatever that may mean. The people also urge haste, and continue to press Your lieutenants with questions they are not able to answer. If this one is not too bold for saying it: there appears to be little time to choose and take action. The trouble at Your people's heels is coming to fruition."

Alvatter listened to the interplay between Rashana and Bire La, nodding along at their assertions. His gifts did not allow him the divination of intents as Bire La or the command of machines and artifice as Rashana. No his power lay in his mortal knowledge, vast as it was, and his command of the arcane. Even if only from a theoretical vantage. Still it was plain to see that this night palace, tainted with fell energies, was somehow connected to the Road.

"We could ignore this room, attempt to press on past it, but I fear a reprisal from those misbegotten things. If they truly do wish for us to penetrate these defenses we may have no other recourse but to abide."

He swallowed hard, steadying himself with his staff.

"I am prepared if the rest of you are. Whatever is behind these doors we can face. Together."

Sani felt an increasing nausea as they traveled into the depths of this lost palace. "I think... perhaps something... needs to be healed here, if we can pass through the door." Putting her hands on the door, she tried to sense more, before stepping aside to allow them to open it.

The doorway cracks open, and reveals a large chamber, an atrium of sorts, all woven glass and too-intense colors. The ceiling is thirty feet up, and you can see other doorways opening room onto balconies above. The floor is more woven glass, covered in sigils that look harsh and angular and somehow hurt the eyes to look at, as though there is something in them that is inimical to life as you know it.

All of that is quickly overshadowed by a pair of other observations. First, directly in front of you, there is an archway that extends up to the ceiling high above. It's filled with darkness, the darkness of the Night, unrelieved by any light or color. A plaque next to it reads NEXUS in an archaic dialect of the language you grew up speaking.

Second, in front of that is a tall being, fifteen feet tall. Its body is too long, as though it were stretched on a rack - long limbs, angular joints. Its eyes are massive black orbs, and spurs of bone extend from each joint. And from its back, wings of bone extend like a cloak, spread wide. The virulent wrongness of the colors in the glass is radiating out from it, emanating from it, spreading.

It looks at you and you look at it, and then it speaks in a voice like soured milk and broken glass. "Godlings. How quaint. And how delicious."

OOC: Yeah, that's the start of combat, you're up.

Alvatter walked into the room, taking stock of the area. Despite the revulsion he felt when looking at the harsh, angular glyphs he studied them briefly to see if they might reveal to him something worthwhile.  When spoken to his eyes focused on the elongated, winged creature. He did not speak, largely because words would not come to him, but he instead focused his divine power and attempted to learn more about what stood before him.

Using my Action to use Read the Signs

"Alvatter, watch out!" Sani urged. She felt her breath speeding up, her chest getting tight, the world starting to blur from sheer panic at the edges of her vision.  Holding up Joshua's gun, Sani fired again and again, until the gun clicked uselessly.  As the moment passed, and the Keeper clutched the gun with a nervous, shocked expression, it became clear that Sani had done more damage to the architecture than anything else.

  Oh!  Good.  It made its target clear.  La is only too happy to let the godlings handle this one.  She only came along in the first place because they needed her example to stay focused, which had come as a disappointment, not a surprise.  And since whatever that horror story was, it definitely was going to need the Inheritors' full attention, holding back and getting the other servants out of the path of danger seemed like her wisest course of action.  "Tranh, go see the doors opened."  If the godlings weren't able to arrive at a prompt decision, she would make one.  It isn't all that different from herding the doddering Big Fish before them, really.  If people had any idea how that temple really operated...

  La shakes her head; she was distracting herself at an important time.  "They've found the source of the evil here, and they're fighting it.  But it's still very important no one spend too much time on the colored parts until they've won."  She glances meaningfully down at the social worker's feet and just how far he'd followed onto clearly unwholesome territory.  She leaves no time for discussion of her own position deeper and closer to the taint.

  "Stay in the first ring of walls, where it's safest, and keep an eye on the children.  The Scholar is busy finding weakness in the heart of the corruption, and no one knows how it spreads.  Go!  I'll tell you if anything changes.  I promise."  And so she bundles the young man who was assisting her out beyond the last door, closing it behind him.  The sacrifice she makes, leaving herself in danger to play messenger of the New Gods, is objectively, ontologically heart-wrenching.  The little servant girl is too noble, too pure for this world.  One cannot have a heart but wish her forever safe.

...which is courtesy Unbearable Beauty as a miracle.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:42, Wed 02 Sept 2020.

Rashana doesn't take long before the lock clicks open, revealing... well, she wasn't quite sure what she'd expected within, but this definitely wasn't it. The portal labled  as a NEXUS had her curiosity, but, perhaps unlike the others, she immediately reacted to the threat. Seeing and hearing Sani unleash the fire of Joshua's gun in an ineffectual hailstorm ending in emptied clicks, Rashana lunged forward. She'd already seen that gun's user fall once, and in this case, for Sani, she'd at the very least step forward while she was here and now and try to protect her. A Scholar, an Engineer, and a Gardener to face whatever this dead monstrosity was...

As she moved, she pulled both of her daggers from across the back of her skirt, and drew them together, forming them into part of the arched frame of a glowing bow forged of raw inspiration, and a gleaming arrow drew back as she rushed forward, veering to the left around the chamber, spreading out from her companions as she instinctively took aim and let the bolt fly, an aimed shot intent on splintering the bone of that winglike structure.

"Sorry, but we're not on the menu~!"

====
Using my movement for the turn to Spread Out (Left around the room, maintaining distance from target because ranged attack) so we don't all get AoE Nuked at once.

Using my Ten Thousand Tools + Artiface passive to make a bow and arrow as part of the action to use it. Committing Effort for Hammerhand.

Attack hits with a result of 24 and does 4 points of converted damage.
13:27, Today: Rashana rolled 19 using 1d20+4.  (Result +5 (Target AC) Hit on 21+.
13:27, Today: Rashana rolled 12 using 1d10+3.  Damage (Hammerhand).

The bony, winged being winces as a balcony falls on it in the wake of Sani's salvo of gunfire. This is, however, only a prelude to what happens to it as Rashana fires a bolt of pure energy and inspiration into it. The lance of power punches straight through it, leaving a hole the size of a large man's fist completely through its sternum and torso.

It stares, collapsing to its knees. The too vibrant colors pulse once, painfully bright, before fading entirely. The archway labeled Nexus stands before you.

As the construct falls, two things happen. The first is a palpable sense of release and relief, of the people of Irohn recovering and their confidence and belief that things are going to be okay. The second is a howl from outside the palace, fierce and shrill and piercing through the walls.

The Uncreated are coming.

Laila looks to the exit, where people are streaming in now that the monster and its corruption have been purged. She draws her blade and nods to the other Heritors. "I'll guard the door until you can close it from the other side," she says simply. "Go with God."

---

Through the portal, another dizzying step that covers far too much reality for such a small action, you find a city of polished marble, glittering glass, and shining silvery metals. It extends into the distance, filled with towers and buildings of all sorts. You are standing in a plaza, in front of a simple stone archway. Next to the archway a stone pedestal with a lever and a plaque that reads The Land of Twilight Skies in an archaic dialect.

And looking around, there are a lot of archways in this plaza. And other plazas nearby. About thirty, all told, each one silent and empty awaiting activation....

Rashana moved over to Sani once the creature was down - more easily than she'd feared, or maybe her bow was just that powerful, she wasn't sure. She tucked her daggers behind her, and put a hand on the scared girl's weapon, lowering it, before she pulled the Gardener's tense frame into a light hug. "It's okay. Come on. We need to get people through. I'll go through and see what there is to see first." She said, before parting from her and heading for the portal.  The wagons may not fit inside the building and through the gate, but that was fine - they'd served their purpose, she hoped... If not, she could always make more, given materials.

She paused briefly, though, at the sound of the howl, and her eyes lifted to Laila with a worried tension as she directed them to go, and to close the gate from the other side. She stared for a moment. "You better actually hold it."

=====

Passing through the portal, Rashana kept low and quiet, dagger drawn as she inspected the quiet plaza on the other side. She moved clear of the gate itself, and, upon seeing no people in direct view, she stood, tucking her blade away as she drank it all in - the materials, the ornate stone, metal, and glass all impressive works. The multitude of other unopened gates also drew a curious look. All fascinating, none of them active, it seemed. Time enough to investigate them later. She moved to find a large enough space to assemble the people starting to pass through the portal, stopping several of the forward guard and directing them to direct the people to gather in the center of the large plaza for now, far enough out from the gate to  leave room to bring more in, and with clear directions not to mess with any of the other gateways. That would be the last thing they needed...

Alvatter was shaken from his surveillance of the room and the construct before him by the sound of Sani's gunfire. Gathering his wits he prepared to inform his group about what he had learned but the words died on his tongue as Rashana utterly destroyed the creature with a singular massive attack. Inwardly Alvatter made a silent promise to himself to never anger Rashana enough to turn her ire upon him.

Still with the construct destroyed the Uncreated became agitated and the portal became their only safe course of action. He remained with the citizens for a while, helping to herd the front half of the group through the gate. When they reached the middle section, the portion where the Order and its belongings were gathered, he forcibly corralled them through the gate and passed through himself. He knew that if permitted they would die to obtain even the slightest bit of insight into the theurgic runes that decorated the area. He'd deny them such a fate.

===

Once through the gate Alvatter continued to direct people away from the portal and towards the center of the plaza. He didn't have any immediate awareness of the nature of the Nexus but it was at least implied in its name to be a place between places, a hub which likely connected to many different Roads or planes. He took note of his home plane, this Land of Twilight Skies and resolved to avoid opening such a portal in the future lest he return to a ruinous hellscape.

"It seems that we are safe for the moment."

  "All but one of us, now."  The voice of the servant, just emerged from the portal with an arm around Sani, is thick with emotion that her face does not admit to.  She lets the Gardener go with a gentle pat on the back and turns, immediately, to look for a closure to the door.  It isn't really hard to identify the only likely candidate, and she throws the lever as fast as she can lunge for it.  Then she drops like a puppet with her strings cut, leaning against the portal.  She has her face hidden against the metal before she reaches the ground.

  And a minute or two later, she gets her professional demeanor drawn back around her like emotional armor.  "The Sun was undimmed behind us.  There were no shadows behind her.  But they filled the corridors beyond, to the ceilings."  After that uplifting report, she rises from the spot and heads off to assist with settling the  community in.  Tracks had been cut through her blush, but there were no more tears in her eyes.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Mon 07 Sept 2020.

Rashana had busied herself with seeing the exiled people clear and into an open space, the better to manage the process of seeing them all through the gate. Once the last had made it, though, she returned back toward the gate to find Sani and Bire La, the latter having closed up the gateway. Her eye lingered on the lever, before she moved closer, and gave a shake of her head. Her hand rested on the lever, and it came free in her hand, disconnected from the machine proper. "... As much as I want to open this gate again and go back in for her, we can't." It would be easy for her to fix. But what better way to ensure that the danger that must lurk on the far side of the gate be locked out than ensuring none could open it?

She put a hand on Bire's shoulder as she stood. "There's a lot to do, this place seems enormous. If all of these towers have as much usable space as they should inside, well... There's a lot to assess." There was a pause, and she took her hand back. "Are you okay to work on it?" She looked over to Sani as well. "You too. This wasn't easy. Things at least seem calm, here."

  La pauses at the touch on her shoulder without immediately turning around, not until after a steadying breath.  She makes eye contact very briefly with Rashana before she realizes her mistake and drops her gaze to the hand as the Maker withdraws it.  She waits, quietly, for Rashana to finish speaking, but deftly moves in on the tail end, before there can be any distraction.  "I can gather survey teams, Tireless One, and organize their efforts.  I will do so at once."  The bow forces her to back away, and she turns faster than she rises, to begin immediately hurrying away from the unanswered question.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:10, Sun 13 Sept 2020.