[Beta | Vault ]
Thales swung with a vicious backhand, not deeming the unnatural creature worthy of his front. While a being of magic, it reeked of the false-death gods Shin and Mingan, and its continued existence was an abominaton.
"In the name of Arnum, lord of truth, master of magic, I banish you, foul spirit!"
To his displeasure (and also slightly to his satisfaction), the Servitor didn't return to dust and ashes. A quick, efficient motion with the sword, and then he'd cleave it straight through, light boiling out of both halves of the Servitor as it returned to the nothingness from which it came. A quick flick of the blade to remove the assorted ash from it, and Thales would flex his wings, readying himself to fly at the enemy, watching for an opportunity like a bird of prey.
Right about the time that Thales would be finishing his swing, Daethwin would change his song, interweaving magic from the Harmony with his voice. In a sense, his powers would fall loosely under the term of "free magic", although he'd likely disagree on technicalities. Either way, Daethwin could not just hear but Listen to the eternal harmony of sounds and rhythms coming from himself, others, and the environment. Like so - by Listening closely enough to the others, he could sense their beat and align them together. First, to bring them together; second, to make them stronger. He knew very well that the effect of multiple instruments working together was greater than the sum of their parts; what held true for instruments of song and music would hold equally true for instruments of death.
Down below, the rest of the party wouldn't just start moving together, but would feel the effects of the Servitors leaving their bodies - what was numbed and chilled grew warm and alive (or at least, solid and animate), and the physical wounds would steadily begin to heal themselves at a rapid pace. Sensing the touch of Daethwin's magic, Thales would grasp the threads of mana and align them in what he thought was the proper manner before sending it along in the manner in which it came to him.
In the meantime, Jewel brought himself to bear against the enemy and readied himself, smashing the first attach against the shield. The Servitor, sensing an opening, would attempt to close in on the rockman and insinuate itself into his body; Jewel would counter it via a swing of the warpick and by turning to the side. Unable to assault the upper body, the Servitor would instead rush through Jewel's legs in a clockwise loop as it began to shed its physical manifestation.
Rurail, having fully recovered from the damage done to him, would have none of this, immediately stepping to his friend's side and jabbing the spear towards the Servitor. It coursed around the point of the spear's buisness end, but had no such luck when Rurail quietly and efficently pulled back, shifted the angle, and thrusted directly into where its presence was concentrating. Taken completely off guard by the assault, the stunned Servitor would return to a physically tangible presence, and would be repeatedly skewered until a final hard thrust would melt the Servitor with a boiling light similar to what had happened to the one Thales had disposed of.
The servitors in the back would immediately demanifest, remaining in the overlapping plane with no physical presence. It wouldn't stop the Adventurers from knowing where they were, given their training, but it would certainly make physical damage pointless. One of them would suddenly shoot out the same thick, noxious gas that the party had choked on before like an octupus would shoot ink; Thales would take a jet directly to the face and would feel his lungs screaming HOLY MURDER before going disturbingly and suddenly pain-free, while his heart would cramp and miss a few beats before restarting sluggishly. The angelborn would immediately take steps to ensure the contamination spread no further, and hardly noticed the rush of cold feathers obscenely caressing his face.
Rurail, having a moment's time, would interpose himself between Jewel and the blast. While it certainly wouldn't stop Jewel from taking damage, it would prevent the worst of it from affecting Jewel. Both of them would feel their outsides growing deathly cold, sucking heat and energy from their insides.
Sylvari wouldn't take the same damage as Rurail and Jewel, having been on the periphery of the attack. After noticing the first swing had no effect, Sylvari would let his anger flow into his blades, and would swing his arms together before flinging them apart as the blades burst in flames. They'd pass neatly through both the nearby Servitors, who would flee. The first of them would also shoot out an inky, sticky darkness, which would both numb whatever it touched and the surrounding body, but was also incredibly sticky and profoundly foul, with an odor that could not be described by a language known to man in any other terms but "being sprayed by a skunk would be considered sweet release."
Daethwin wouldn't be affected; everyone else would. This would work poorly for Jewel and Rurail, whose attempt to entangle the Servitor would result in Jewel's shield arm going completely numb and their attacks being effortlessly ignored, while the Servitor would remain close enough between the two to make a magic attack risky.
Jewel's attempt to catch the third Servitor would miss by moments, and Thales' charge would be delayed by a second as he reacted to the curse and damage. The Servitor whipped through the air, arcing upwards and outwards, followed by the gleaming light of the angelborn behind.
Up above, Daethwin had noticed the tip of his nose and fingers starting to freeze, and stepped back from the vault's entrance. It was this step back that saved him, as the Servitor would arc through the gap and spear him through the shoulder, hard enough for whatever armor he was wearing to visibly weaken and the fabric below to tear, while the flesh would openly split and weep pus. Had he remained looking at the way he was, the Servitor would have made its escape path directly through his skull and out the other side, with immediate and fatal consequences.
Daethwin didn't even want to think about what was happening below the flesh, taking the time to both go "HOLY SHIT!" and raise the weapon in his off hand, mind spinning from adrenaline as he searched for notes of scourging and destruction to weave in his songs. The next blow struck would be the last, and both the Servitor and the singer knew it.
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Topic: Adventuring Party, Act 1: A Tale Of Two Hamlets (Read 36236 times)