astraladvent

[astraladvent]

Over the Rainbow.

((Best read with this music to accompany! ))

Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the Advent Infirmary. It was bright, white, and pure. The colours of the sheets and curtains fair sang to its brilliance, though the glare of it presented a haze to the eyes. The thin, brown skinned individual sitting up in bed amongst comfortable pillows and linens didn’t seem to mind. They held a book in front of them, their warm, brown eyes absolutely absorbed in the story. Their frizzy hair exploded behind their head, forming yet another comfortable pillow. 

As they read, their vision began to swim -- the onset of dizziness and nausea was sudden and reeling. It came with a sharp wracking pain throughout their body that caused a severe degree of trembling. After several ticks it passed, leaving them panting as sweat began to bead on their brow. They put the book down, sure to mark the page as a slim hand massaged their chest. That was the way of it, then. Without the suffusion of prismatic aether throughout their body, the sickness was back -- the pain was back. They hadn’t been healed, after all. The suffering that made the thought of death so easy had returned. Nevertheless, they smiled a sorrowful, yet hopeful smile. Perhaps it needn’t be for the rest of their life. Death was a definite end, but with life, there was hope for a cure, for an end to the suffering without cessation to everything else. With that thought in mind, they picked the book back up again. They needed to know how the story ended.

Malms away in Gyr Abania an identical pair of Highlander women dressed in smooth, flowing garments approached the recruitment tent for the Ala Mhigan Resistance. They both were encumbered by heavy backpacks that they carried without complaint. The recruitment officer attended them patiently, but seemed surprised at their request. They did not wish to join the resistance itself -- at least not directly. They wished to be directed toward the monks, so that they would begin work toward becoming members of the new Fist of Rhalgr. While the officer seemed a little disappointed, it was not at all an unhappy affair -- the twins were given the information they needed to begin their lives anew. 

In the Firmament of Ishgard, a middle-aged Midlander man entered a warm cottage. He shut the door behind him, shutting out the most part of frigid festivities. The loud thumping of music still made it through the walls. He didn’t mind, the crackling fire in the hearth and the elezen woman seated at an easel melted away any and all discomfort. The woman painted dutifully, adding the last strokes to an exquisite portrait of a tall hyuran man with strong features. He wore gleaming white armour and bore a sword and shield. His helmet was cradled in his hands, allowing long golden hair to flow down onto his pauldrons. Despite his powerful stance and stature, he was smiling -- all teeth and jovial grey eyes. “Oh, you painted him smiling,” The Midlander observed. The Elezen woman nodded. “Of course. He was always smiling. Did you place the order for the frame?” Her Hyuran companion nodded. “I did. There were several artisans willing to take the commission, all of whom were interested in hearing the tale of Mads Sturdevant, Champion of the Ivory Shield.”

Upon a craggy mountain pass along Abalathia’s spine, a thickly muscled Midlander dressed in furs dragged the carcass of a pantera. It laid tied to a sheet of leather for simpler travel, but there was no way to make it an entirely easy task. Sweat drenched him, but blood, dirt and dust marked his body regardless. An axe was strapped to his back. For malms he went, determined to reach his destination. The sun had begun to sink behind the mighty mountains when he approached a village. Two burly Hellsguard women served as sentries to the road entranced and watched him warily until he was but a few fulms away. They too wore furs and axes -- though their armour was quite more involved. The Midlander staggered a fulm closer and regarded them with a haggard smile. “...I made it.” He then collapsed forward onto his face. 

In the slums of Limsa Lominsa, Berrod stood at the doorway of a particularly dilapidated house -- the Highlander man in the doorway seemed to live in squalor. It did not stop him from berating the armoured paladin who had just given him news of his son’s demise in the Burn. As usual, condolences and apologies never seemed enough, especially since there wasn’t even a body to bring back. All Berrod could offer was a box of the adventurer’s possessions. That box was swatted out of his hands as the elderly Highlander cursed and shouted at him -- he had disowned his son long ago; an apparent good for nothing who refused to carry on the family business and left him in decline. He cared not for the man, nor his death, he said, the bastard got what he deserved. Berrod stood there in silence, resisting the urge to strike the man in meteoric fury. It wasn’t long before the rickety door slammed in his face, leaving him to navigate his way out of the cutthroat alley. For all the ire and sorrow he radiated, he was left alone. 

Once Berrod had left him, the old man opened his door. Quietly, he picked up the box and replaced the scattered items in it. Once he was inside again, he took a look. It was just a few odds and ends, some clothing and books -- three of them were dirty novels. Within it all was a small blanket -- a baby blanket that he recognised. It was old, so old, threadbare now, ready to come apart. The old man dropped all else and held that blanket close to his chest as if it would soothe the sharp pain that had suddenly lanced through him. His wail carried all the way to the edge of the slums -- even to Berrod, whose jaw was set as stone as tears silently streamed down his face. 

Across the Strait of Merlthor -- in the Goblet of Thanalan, specifically, a green Sea Wolf dressed in a Scholar’s garb arrived home at last. He entered the Lominsan Styled house and greeted his staff -- though he immediately made his way to his Husband’s office. The grey-skinned Sea Wolf was at his desk, writing in solemn peace. Vivid green eyes looked up from his work to almost look beyond the man who had arrived. 

“It is done, then, my Mountain?” The Grey Sea Wolf asked. 

“It is done, my Shadow. I walk a road anew and unencumbered -- though there is one small matter left. A souvenir for your collection.”

The Green Sea Wolf reached into his coat and withdrew a glimmering prismatic shard. It was tiny -- the size of a coin, but it glittered with all its facets, colours and power. “Enjoy.”

The Grey Sea Wolf smiled. 

[astraladvent]

Blood on the Sands

It was finally time to put an end to the Prisms.

The group, consisting of Autgar, Zaius, Tiergan, Louma'li, Reks, Sejad, Geofri, Orion, Huginn, as well as Slashing Tombstone and Lerone, had finally arrived at the Burn to feed the aether contained within the crystals back into the land. Slash was left back at a makeshift camp under guard while the rest of the group accompanied Larone into the desert to oversee the release of aether. Nobody quite knew what to do or what to expect.

Except trouble. Everyone expected trouble in some form or another, and that's exactly what they got. When Lerone attempted to release the aether into the land, it was captured. The entire time the group had been traveling, Slash had been "praying" and the fruits of that labor were paying off as the aether was pulled from the land and straight to him. The group took as much time as they could to prepare as they saw the aether-glowing Slash begin to enclose upon their position.

Autgar, Zaius, Orion, and Reks took Lerone and the prisms and began to run to put some distance between the two. Huggin, Geofri, Sejad, Louma'li, and Tiergan stood with N'hara as the front-line against Slash.

The man had split himself into multiple clones, each a copy but also the original, with a core one situated within a dome of red crystal as he continued to pray. Both groups had to contend with a swarm of the copies, copies that started to turn and twist Lerone into a creature not unlike them the closer they got.

It was a scramble to try and destroy as many of the clones as possible. Huginn had his hands full with one particularly crafty clone while Geofri was providing ranged support from the top of a giant automata. N'hara, Sejad, Louma'li, and Tiergan cooperated in the destruction of the other clones and and the one in the barrier. Reks and Orion pooled their magic with Autgar creating another wall between Slash and Lerone, succeeding in destroying the others. Zaius, meanwhile, was offsetting the changes to Lerone by drawing the aether out of them and into himself.

There was a moment in the fight were all time seemed to stop.

Another copy of Slash had appeared, this one bearing the name of Spectrum. It appeared before Louma'li, touching the Moonkeeper in the chest and causing the man to quite literally explode, blood and flesh and viscera littering the sands in an instant. It appeared again before Autgar and drove a fist clear through the man's chest and the monk was dropped to the ground dead.

Something within N'hara snapped, sensing both of his friends deaths as the collective unconscious between them faded out of existence.

The half-highlander bolted towards Slash, unable to perceive anything but the pounding of blood in his ears and growl laced with murderous intent rumbling in his chest. He was vaguely aware of Zaius engaging the man at the same time, fire mixed with an inky blackness covering his body as he laid into the man with strike after strike.

All the Agents combined pooled the last of their resources into making sure Slash was put to death. Between being literally ripped to pieces and obliterated with the most powerful of magics the mages had to bear, the man was not long for this world and was truly and utterly destroyed once they were done with him.

N'hara didn't notice that a disturbingly familiar golden force had granted Reks the might to bring Autgar back to life and a suspiciously familiar green one rewound time to save Louma'li.

The seeker's senses could process anything, so disoriented by the horrid power that had almost burnt him alive from the inside out, leaving him standing in a small, smouldering crater, bleeding profusely and littered with bruises and burns. He was alive. They were alive. The aether of the prisms had seeped back into the land.

Mission accomplished, for what it was all worth.

Featuring @astraladvent

[astraladvent]

Emptiness

It was time to get rid of the Prisms. Their corrupting influence had plagued the Advent for too long and it was decided how they were to be dealt with: the Burn was a location critically devoid of aether. The company would clear out a section of the Burn of the native creatures and use that space to channel the aether of the prisms back into the land.

The first step was having to deal with the beasts in the first place.

The group was split into two core parties: N’hara elected to accompany Kotoe, Sejad, and Reks into a section of the Burn where the monsters were much fiercer. Berrod would lead Autgar, Louma’li, Martin, Tiergan, Zachary, and Frae into another section with less intense creatures, though far more numerous.

N’hara had never been there before and the moment he arrived, he wanted to leave. He was used to sand, but sand at the ocean was one thing. The dry, moistureless, lifeless sand of the Burn was another and it didn’t help in the slightest there was a sandstorm happening.

Their mission was to press on through the wasteland and press on they did. The sandstorm enabled small rockslides as they ventured through some cliffs, a “sandfall” had put much of the tiny grains in unmentionable places, but on the other side lay a tunnel system that gave them a reprieve from the adverse weather. It shouldn’t have, but did, come as a surprise to the group to find a section of constructed tunnels beneath the dunes, all of them bearing the obvious architecture and glowing panels of Allagan technology.

The end of their designated run lead them to a stone outcropping that overlooked a fast swath of the Burn, nothing but horizon as far as the eye could see. Within the space lay the corpse of a giant worm of some variety, sharing the desolate landscape with some Allagan magitech in the distance and a Garlean airship that had long since been claimed by the sands.

Their return to the base camp was blessedly uneventful, the group taking a moment to collect themselves, recover what aether they could, and stay hydrated. N’hara practically allowed himself to collapse onto the ground to rest, looking up at the clear sky to center himself and meditate.

It was a fair bit before the other group managed to return. They were bruised, but not beaten. Apparently some ticks had grown too large for their own good and needed some culling. An airship was due to pick them all up for a time to rest and recover. They would venture back with the Prisms at a later date to finish the work they started.

Featuring @astraladvent

[astraladvent]

A Frozen Heart (2/8/21)

Focus, and release. Focus, and release. Focus, and –

“Release.”

Keep reading

[astraladvent]

Refulgent Memories

Reks was in danger.

A trip into Amdapor Keep had seen Reks lost within its walls, swallowed by ice and light. An emergency call had gone out to rally a rescue mission. Natja, Autgar, Zaius, X’ani, Louma’li, Martin, Tarot, Orion, and Tiergan had been available to answer. While nobody was perfectly sure which place within the empty halls had their ally captive, the presence of Prism aether and an intense shift towards ice and light made the search much more possible.

N’hara was glad to have a strong affinity towards ice and fire, enabling him to better survive in the environment that Reks’s out-of-control magics were creating.

They had found him deep within one of the sanctums, a place that looked almost like an Ishgardian chapel than anything. The Seeker wasn’t even trying to hide. He’d been waiting for them. Everyone could see something was wrong with Reks and were cautious of what was coming next. The caution proved warranted, as aether lashed out at all of them, creating a phantom drowning sensation in the building. It took a coordinated effort to break the barriers the mage had surrounded himself in to disrupt all of the magicks Reks was weaving.

Three phantom creatures pulled Reks from the engagement and took his place: the Heart of Regret was a beast in the shape of a man that attacked with claws and rage. The Heart of Emptiness was a tall mage that struck with blazing light. The Heart of Yearning was a similarly tall woman who supported the first two with protective and healing magics, negating what little damage the party could do.

It took a coordinated effort from the whole group to eventually drop the creatures one by one.

The group was being worn thin and still the assault wasn’t over. Whatever force was pulling on Reks’s strings seemed to take full control now. It surrounded the Seeker with clay bodies and resplendent wings. If this entity was as powerful as it looked, the fight would need to end quickly. A pulse of horrid cold over the group only punctuated that. They were running out of time. N’hara pulled as much of his internal aether together as he could, focusing it into his hands. He needed every onze of aether he could spare and needed extra focus due to the chill that was still gripping him. Hands cupped together, he focused that aether into a volatile sphere, compressing it to make it even more potent.

Nothing in his arsenal hit harder than Lightbringer and that violent outpouring of aether was aimed directly at the creature that Reks had been taken over by. The attack was blocked and much of N’hara’s aether was spent. Options were running out and the half-highlander wondered just how desperate he was in that moment.

Pretty damned desperate was his conclusion.

He reached into a pack and pulled free a phial of glittering blue liquid. N’hara had worked hard to overcome the phobia of medicine that he’d been suffering from for a very long time. He still hated the idea of taking one, hated the thought of possibly falling back into old habits. He hated the thought of being useless even more. He put the phial to his lips and drank the whole thing down.

The medicine immediately got to work helping to restore his aetherial reserves and N’hara hated how good it felt. He charged back into the fray, Army of One magnifying his strength as he launched into an all-out-assault on the clay hide of the creature that had taken over his friends.

Strike after strike after strike rained down, beating the creature into submission until the true target revealed itself: the prism crystal that had caused this whole mess in the first place. N’hara grabbed it with a forceful hand and Louma’li helped yank it free. A burst of light enveloped the arena and the fight was over. And yet, the danger wasn’t passed.

Reks was fading.

The toll of the battle, of channeling the dark intentions of the souls within his soul crystal had taken a toll on the man’s corporeal form. The spirits of the three Hearts, unknown individuals connected to Reks’s past, appeared to help stabilize the fading Seeker. Aether was needed and the group of people who had rallied to save their friend and ally offered what they could.

The ice melted. The spirits faded. Amdapor was quiet once more.

Reks was, for a mercy, fine. Exhausted, but fine. With what little strength the group had left, they staggered their way back to the company house to rest and recover.

The prism rested locked in one of N’hara’s pockets… that would need to be dealt with…

Featuring @astraladvent​ and @reksblanc​

[astraladvent]

Among Us

It was time for the Advent’s All Saint’s Wake party and the group gathered together to enjoy pumpkin-flavored treats of various types and enjoy whatever festivities had been planned for the day.

Straume, Blazh, Ta-heng, Omor, Natja, Kotoe, Andronikos, Lian’dr, Reks, Bayan, and Gregos showed up for the party. N’hara had opted to wear a costume emulating some great sage that drew upon dark powers to extend their life. It was not nearly as horrifying as Kotoe coming in dressed as a pumpkin-colored pig. Still, the lot of them were enjoying their refreshments and funny costumes when the festivities were set to begin:

There was a traitor among them! Someone who had cursed the manor and it was up to the Agents to undo the curse all while avoiding being hunted by the traitors.

If there was ever a time when N’hara’s heart was pounding in his chest, it was the 1-2 minutes he had to spend at each station doing his “tasks” in order for the Agents to emerge victorious.

There was a comical bit of misfortune the first round. Blazh and Gregos had been chosen as the traitors, yet neither knew the other were and, in a startling “murder” spree, Gregos’s first victim was poor Blazh. The next round did the hrothgar no mercy as he ended up getting killed in the same room. The third round was even less forgiving, as he was the first to die again. N’hara had to promise not to terrorize poor Gregos; the highlander was not the traitor the second round, but the half-highlander was finished with his tasks and sought only to give the man company. Said company was misinterpreted as a desire to “kill” him.

N’hara opted to sit out the third round, not about to push his luck with being in remote areas of the house and not getting “murdered”. He got lucky, as Bayan went on a murder spree that round and ended up winning the game for the Traitors.

It was a good party. More terrifying than the last one, but in a different and rather fun way.

[astraladvent]

Fraternal Bonds.

((This piece is best read with this music to accompany!))

The well-dressed Sea Wolf who walked along the metal flooring of the Habisphere had been known by many names. Skoengryne Bloeberksyn, his birth name. Bloeberg Platzensyn, the name he adopted to run a company in Thanalan. That name had then been simplified to ‘Mountain’ for those adventurers who feared to swallow their own tongues pronouncing the rain-tongue. When he bonded with Grave, he took the other Roegadyn’s translated name as his own and became known as ‘Mountain Shadow’ -- though ‘Mountain’ sufficed outside of situations that required a full name. Through all those names, peoples’ perceptions of him changed; formed, reformed, whether they were insightful or idiotic. Yet, his identity remained static. 

Mountain wasn’t quite clear on why these thoughts occupied his mind in the foul skies of Azys Lla; forever an accursed place in his mind and soul -- especially the top of the Habisphere, the battle-scared rooftop cast in the sickly yellow-green and orange glow that filtered through the noxious clouds. Dead leaves on small dead saplings fluttered, and dust swept across the metal floor. His eyes moved to one of the storage rooms nearby. The small space had served as a prison for longer than he cared to admit...but he was free now. Free, with only the consequence of trauma to keep him company...not that he would let that stop him from achieving his ends. 

What he was clear on, however, was the reason he had gone to the top of the Habisphere. It hadn’t been necessary for him to go all that way, but it seemed like the best place for what he was about to do. It was a reminder of the danger, a reminder of the responsibility and the burden he carried to make sure that his power was exercised safely and with restraint. With that in mind, he plucked his grimoire from the holder on his belt. 

Flipping through the pages showed a profile of the offensive spellwork he was capable of -- the supportive codex he had left at home. Myriad diseases and magical maladies, cursed fire, boils and sores...things like that. Mountain was a man of attrition on the battlefield, though he did keep a small catalogue of ruinous bolts just in case some punch was needed. Eventually he came to the section on summoning -- the most dangerous spellwork he possessed. Shadow, Dust, and Spirit. 

It took a moment for him to steel himself, but he settled on ‘Spirit’, and began casting with a hand over the pages. There was no need for lengthy incantations; the arcane geometry did all the work. All he had to do was provide the aether --his own aether, and the aether of the entity he had bathed in at the moment of its defeat. 

Its summoning was always a strange, macabre thing -- complex in a manner that he attributed to his own viewpoint...and trauma. It appeared first as a white coffin floating five fulms or so above the ground. It was pure aether, but appeared as marble in texture. Soft radiance floated off of it; beautiful and sad as it stood as a reminder of both triumph and loss. 

The coffin cracked with a loud report that echoed across the habisphere. A jagged line down the middle that -poured- dark red blood onto the floor. Mountain glanced at his gloved hands then -- they were stained in red. It was a moment that always made his stomach lurch. Fortunately for him, the blood only remained for a few ticks. As it evaporated, the cracked coffin’s halves opened and disintegrated into a fluttering cloud of white feathers that revealed what had been contained within. 

Too look upon it was quite similar to looking upon a carved marble bust of a large Roegadyn man. There was nothing below the wide, cloth-draped chest,  nothing beyond the broad shoulders. Its face was familiar, so painfully familiar...a face he wished so very dearly to see alive in flesh again, but knew he never would. Where there was once green skin, there was now an incomplete white, aetheric simulacrum of such. Hair that was once seafoam was rendered now as diamond and glass. Its face resembled him so closely. His own face had caught up to the aged lines the entity’s possessed, but forever would their eyes be set apart. Mountain’s eyes were a clear teal, and the entities a brilliant blue. Those eyes fixed upon their summoner, waiting. 

Mountain couldn’t help himself. “Hello, Wolfy.”

He knew that this...thing...was not his brother. He knew it was a remnant of the aether of what his brother had summoned onto himself, naught but an Egi. He knew that Rysswilf was dead, his aether returned to the lifestream to drift and be reborn again as new life. Perhaps it had happened already. Still, this was something. 

The entity stared.

Carefully he stepped close to it and lifted a hand to stroke its cheek. His wish for flesh and bone had manifested somewhat -- even though it was agglutinated aether, it still felt like a man’s face under his hand. The heart-seizing mixture of comfort and pain that simple touch brought him was both cruel and deserved. “Grave will be a little cross that I’ve summoned you without good reason. I’m a little cross with myself. This bond we share is a perversion of the natural order of things. A man should not bear his own flesh and blood -- even the image of him -- as an Egi. Still, through this blasphemy against the Gods I can offer my apologies...and ask that you lend me your power in the trials to come.”

The entity stared -- it was obedient without question; Mountain’s words were redundant. A measure of comfort. Still, they counted as orders, and with a glow of its eyes, it provided a demonstration to assure its summoner that its power was his. 

The fluttering leaves stilled. The dust being swept around suddenly held, clouds of stained cotton suspended in the air. Outside of an area of ten yalms or so, all went on as normal -- but inside, everything save a miniscule radius around Mountain and his Egi were locked in temporal hold. Slowly, Mountain smiled at the impassive white face of his brother -- no, of his Egi. 

“Thank you.”

[astraladvent]

Prompt #8 - Clamor

((cw: blood))

The chrysalis was warm, pleasantly so. It almost didn’t want to leave -- yet in order to escape the prison man had so painstakingly constructed for it, leaving the comfortable warmth was a necessity. Perhaps outside it would be warmer, more pleasant. There was a light pressure upon the fleshy wrap that surrounded it; muffled sounds, wild aether cast about like spilled wheat. A feast, if anything. It could feel its host dwindle in number -- that wild aether the result of fevered battle. There was no time to waste. 

The flesh tore, and a great deluge of red spilled forth onto the already blood-slicked stone road. The clamor of battle rose from a muffle to a roar, and red light burned down from a damned sky. The scattered aether was delicious, and it instantly partook of it without shame or hesitation. Who would deny such a feast? Unlike the traces it had sipped on during its long stay in its pupal stages, however, this aether would not influence its form. Not like the Hellsguard who dared to command it had. Not like the Hyur who had dared to touch its mind had. Not like the hyur it had supped so greedily on had. Not like the Miqo’te who sought to play its master had. Not like the Miqo’te who had touched its essence had. 

It was grateful to them all, for without them, it would not have perceived how to make its flesh -- flesh that stood in the middle of the road, soaked in red and still draining above the slick remains of its own womb. It stood tall and powerful as a Hellsguard in stature, strapping and muscular with skin like red clay. Granted, its skin was not quite visible under the coating of dripping blood. The Hellsguard’s influence ended just at the end of its thick neck, upon which a hyur’s head was awkwardly perched. It was a worn, midlander sort, smoothened by a red film. Thick crimson dripped from what would have been a blond beard. Large, bright blue eyes peered about, eyes that seemed a bit ill-fitted to the head’s bone structure, and perhaps just a tad too large for its face. The mouth was of a similar, oddly placed quality, a tad too small, with the definite and subtle placings of a Miqo’te. Even more curious were the hair and ears -- the hair was brown, in comparison to the blond beard, and from them pricked up a pair of Miqo’te ears that didn’t seem to have cared that there were already a pair of hyuran ears on the sides of its head. 

There it stood, an agglomeration of those who had recently touched it, a macabre tribute to the contributions of those who would see it free. A monument; a memorial. Ever would their image live on in it, for the time had come for their flesh to pass. It did not draw breath, for its lungs were full of blood. It did not hunger, for its belly was heavy and sloshing, and the aether around it provided much. It did not lust, what was placed between its legs was of no consequence. It did, however, wish to kill -- and as its malice extended to connect to every heart and brain around it, its bloody dirge spelled itself out in a circle of glowing symbols at its feet. To the eye of anyone who knew, the symbols were spelled out clearly.

Racing hearts feed rushing minds, and from such heavy bounty I sup.

Every heart around it thundered, every mind around it buzzed. These...adventurers, these mortals -- they would pay the final toll.

[astraladvent]

Rain On Me

The group was divided into three groups: The Wards team would focus on ensuring the wards around Apoplexy were in place, protecting the mages maintaining the wards, and providing ranged support. This team consisted of Autgar, Viktor, Jancis, Andronikos Thorne, Tiergan, Sejad, and Milo. The Assault team would directly engage Apoplexy on the front lines. N'hara, Berrod, Huggin Sigrun, Natja, Zachary, Reks, Edari, and Orion were on this team. The Piercer team would be opperating a series of ballistae to assail Apoplexy from afar. Kotoe, Martin, Gregos, and Louma'li would be handling them.

Everyone knew their role. There could be no mistakes today. Apoplexy was a threat to the realm and countless people would die if they didn’t destroy it here and now.

Orion, who had been mistaken for Apoplexy’s master, managed to lure it out into the open. The assault team had prepared a crude trap for it, a trip-wire that ran the length across the major road. The simple trap ended up working as intended and, attempting to follow the road towards the bridge that lead out of Ternli, it stumbled. The battle began and N'hara bolted into the fray first, fists thrumming with power from chakras and enchantments both. He, Huginns, and Orion assaulted its legs to cripple it while Edari let loose a hail of bullets. Reks and Zachary assisted in shielding and defense while Natja leaped into the air and brought her massive weapon down on it’s body like a guillotine. The slice cleaved the creature in half, dropping the body to the ground in a bloody mess.

Nobody expected that to be the end… especially not when coins and gems… and weapons began to fall from the sky.

Above them all, the red mists parted revealing the true lake of blood of Ternli. It began to rain, the blood falling to the ground and pooling into puddles.

The puddles began to shift and move, slowly rising up and taking hold of the fallen weapons as each puddle turned into a solider… a soldier in an army of the dead.

The group pulled itself into a defensive position, circling Orion, Reks, and Edari. Blade and fist, spell and bullet tore through one ashkin after another, their area attacks cutting vast swaths of the creatures down, but overwhelming numbers were still in favor of the monsters. Several moments of intense fighting had only reduced them down to about three fourths of their strength. The missing head of Apoplexy showed itself in that moment, decending from the sky in an explosion that rocked the wards and shattered them whole. The blood creatures converged on the head, as if to protect it from their advance towards it.

They wouldn’t give it any moment to grow stronger. If anyone could end the creature in a single strike, it was Natja and her murderous greatsword.

N'hara called upon all of his chakras and his internal aether to loose Lightbringer in its direction, cleaving a path towards it. Orion followed suit, using a summoned bird of flame to continue burning the path. Edari unleased a torrent of flames from a flamethrower. Zachary and Huginn burtalized ever more. Reks blessed the battlefield and shielded the viera.

Apoplexy broke from the head, reavealing itself with a roegadyn-looking body, but parts that looked like they came from the company’s various allies.

Natja, furious, made the charge. Her blade cleaved through everything around her, a ballet of glorious slaughter as he made her way to Apoplexy. The other teams were moving to intercept it; the piercer team shot a ballista bolt at it, halting its tracks. The wards team made a barricade to keep it from advancing out of the city any further.

The Astral Advent struck true. Blade and bolt and magic wrought utter destruction upon the creature, obliterating it in a moment just before its vile magics could try and kill all present. The blood vanished, the mists became just that, and the din of battle grew silent.

The day had been won.

The group took time to rest and recover, to bandage themselves up and recover at least a little bit of the strength they’d spent taking down the voidsent. A few were recruited to help collect some of the treasure that had fallen when the lake of blood dissipated. Although N’hara wasn’t much for collecting treasure after a fight, it certainly was a lot of money… and perhaps some of it could go to refilling the company’s coffers to compensate for all everyone was getting paid for their heroism.

N’hara mainly wanted a bath and a good night’s rest. With the voidsent gone, all things were sure to heal in time…

Featuring @astraladvent​

[astraladvent]

The members of the Astral Advent took some time off of their busy schedules to enjoy the Moonfire celebration. The light-spirited event was much needed given recent travails. 

There was a dose of healthy competition in the form of a water balloon fight tournament! Iex splashed his way to a victory over all the others. All in all it was a fun filled, sun filled day. 

((Thanks much to @viktor-harlenk​ for putting the event together, and to all the members who came out!))

[astraladvent]

The Roads, and Where they Lead.

((Best read/skimmed with this music to accompany!)) 

In the Goblet, Breaker knocked on the door of the headquarters of a Free Company. 

In Neverreap, a red-haired Roegadyn washed blood from his face in a pool of water. 

At the Advent Hall, young Lerone leaned up from a lounging splay on a couch to look at a deck of cards.

At the Lavender Beds in Gridania, Berrod approached the Lily Hills apartments. 

In a dining hall, Rookmin and Sumintra sat before a rich meal, and looked to the other occupants of the table. 

At the Lavender Beds in Gridania, Berrod knocked on the door to one of the apartments. 

At the Advent Hall, young Lerone approached the deck of cards with a smile. 

In Neverreap, the red-haired Roegadyn looked at the rippling reflection of his face in the water. The blood had been washed off. 

In the Goblet, Breaker knocked more insistently. 

In a dining hall, Abraxas and Adelaide looked across the table to Rookmin and Sumintra, who offered the pair an uneasy smile. The sound of loud knocking startled them all. 

At the Lavender beds, the door opened, and a slender Elezen woman spoke to Berrod for a while.

At Advent Hall, young Lerone took the cards into their hands and shuffled them as they chanced a glance at the mirror and dropped the cards. 

In Neverreap, the red-haired Roegadyn reared up from the pool with a gasp. 

At the Goblet, the door Breaker was knocking on opened. 

In the dining hall, Abraxas, Adelaide, Rookmin and Sumintra looked at the empty chair of the one who had gone to open the door. 

At the Lavender Beds, Berrod continued to speak to the Elezen woman, and presented a white crystal to her.

At Advent Hall, Lerone stared in the mirror in horror as a wet-faced, Red-haired Roegadyn stared back at them. 

In Neverreap, the red-haired Roegadyn stared down at the pool of water, within which was reflected Lerone's horrified face. 

At the Goblet, Mountain stood in the open doorway before Breaker, who began to beg.

The dining hall was behind Mountain, the four occupants of the table stared at the exchange. 

At the Lavender Beds, the Elezen woman broke down and dropped to her knees, clutching the crystal as Berrod went down to console her. 

At Advent Hall, Lerone grabbed a paperweight to throw at the mirror.

In Neverreap, the water rippled violently without being disturbed by the red-haired Roegadyn. 

At the Goblet, Mountain denied Breaker whatever he had asked, and closed the door, leaving the hyur to sink to his knees in despair in front of the house.

In the dining hall, the four occupants looked awkwardly at their meals as Mountain returned to the head of the table. 

At the Lavender Beds, Berrod held onto a sobbing Elezen woman.

At Advent Hall, Lerone shook violently as they stared at the frame of the broken mirror.

In Neverreap, the water stilled, reflecting the red-haired Roegadyn's face once more.

At the Goblet, Breaker picked himself up to leave in disgrace.

  In the lake of blood, Apoplexy waited.

[astraladvent]

Apoplexy

Previously, the group had gone to investigate the cave that Mads had suggested his insane plot. Within the cave had been found a group of pale, white-clad individuals attempting to return the aether within the prisms to the land. Another, assassins emblazoned with the mark of a red skull, were seeking them out to take the prism’s power for themselves.

Naturally, the Astral Advent had a problem with this.

It came as quite a surprise, then, when one of them, a roegadyn man by the name of Slashing Tombstone, called out to the Astral Advent for help.

The group, composed of Natja, Orion, Gregos, Zachary, Iex, Reks, Autgar, Milo, Martin, Viktor, Sejad, Edari, Dylan, Jancis, and Kotoe Kawanami ventured to the Sea of Clouds where they had last done battle with the Red Skull group to parlay. The situation, as it turns out, had taken a grim turn. A voidsent had torn through their ranks and decimated them all, leaving only Slashing Tombstone left alive. Unable to muster up enough strength to destroy the voidsent, even with a prism crystal embedded in his arm, he sought out the Advent to form a temporary and uneasy alliance in the face of such a threat.

N’hara was hard-pressed to trust the word of a murderer who had traded blows with his company. He didn’t like the idea of a monster getting loose and rampaging around killing innocent people, but there were far too many ways for this to go wrong. Slashing Tombstone could take advantage of the group fighting the creature to kill them… if the creature existed at all and this wasn’t some attempt to catch them all in a trap.

A few ideas were tossed around, but the important truth quickly became known to the group:

If he was telling the truth, a voidsent with the power to wantonly slaughter innocent people couldn’t be suffered to let live. However, without knowing what kind of voidsent the group was dealing with, they couldn’t draw up any plans.

A consensus was reached and the Astral Advent agreed to spend what time they had left before the seal holding the voidsent Apoplexy back was broken. They would use that time to train, study their adversary, and plot out the best battle plan they could muster to bring it down and ensure it didn’t hurt anyone else.

Making sure Slashing Tombstone got his comeuppance was a secondary objective.

Featuring @astraladvent​

[astraladvent]

A mysterious person who appeared on one of our missions. 

[astraladvent]

Mad Plans

The man’s name was Mads.

Work had been called over the linkpearl, a request for assistance from a knight of Ishgard. The call was urgent and a good number of people answered: Sejad, Mholi'to, Louma'li, Tiergan, Orion, Reks, Martin, Autgar, Natja, Cerina, Edari, Viktor, and Vit Aviasti and Andronikos Thorne. They were directed to meet the contact in a small pub outside of the Observatorium just south of Camp Dragonhead. N'hara never liked the cold and dressed as warmly as he could on such short notice.

Mads greeted them, introducing himself as a former knight of Ishgard now searching for the two people that Mountain’s Shadow had in his custody. He would do anything to save them, believing that Mountain was keeping them against their will. More than a few people in the Agents already believed the same. However, Mads’ desire was to kill Mountain to free them. Cerina was eager to help, the rest were rightfully cautious. Mountain was not a man to be trifled and many had seen first-hand the seawolf’s skill with magicks.

Mads claimed to have a means of killing him, to overcome such intense magical strength. He wished to prove his method and so took the group to a cave far west of the Observatorium.

The general atmosphere of the group went from wary to preparing for a fight.

The whole of the cave was filled with the same aetherially dead, white, chalky stone that was created by the prisms. It was impossible not to feel the pull of aether trying to be drained from them. Mads spoke of a creature that was supposed to be the “true” form of Halone: a woman of marble white wielding a sword. He spoke of how this woman chose him as her champion and she in her radiance would answer his prayers.

None could quite predict Autgar drawing free a magicked dagger and stabbed Mads in the helmet. Nobody, besides Autgar himself, could have realized that Mads had been dead for some time and the suit of armor they’d been following had been just that, a suit of armor.

“Mads” had possessed one of the prisms, his goal had been to request the one held by the Advent in order to gain ever more power. The crystal spilled from the armor… and cracked.

From the crystal’s broken form emerged the creature that “Mads” had spoken of. They had all seen such a creature before. They’d seen it the Shroud when searching for Hartslad. They’d seen the head when they attempted to have a second vacation at the beach. This… thing… was not Halone and a barrage of magics shattered it to dust before it could properly manifest.

N'hara had been on edge the whole time, ready for a fight he was sure was coming. It took a while for him to finally breath when it seemed sure the fight would not actually come.

The group decided to collapse the cave to keep anyone else from going inside. Thankfully, the group was comprised of more than enough mages to do so without issue.

Berrod had been attempting to contact them via linkpearl for an unknown amount of time. Free of the aether-draining cave and it properly sealed off, the group reported their findings and there was promise of a warm meal to be had when they returned.

N’hara was on edge, still. The creature that had emerged from the prism that “Mads” had been carrying, the same type of creature that had attempted to crawl into their reality in the Shroud… he didn’t like any of it. It all felt so wrong to him in a way that he wasn’t sure able to put to words. At the very least, it was one less Prism shard they had to worry about… hopefully…

Featuring @astraladvent​

[astraladvent]

Catching up with Breaker (Budulinek)

May 2020

[astraladvent]

Double or Nothing -- Screenshots part 3/3

[astraladvent]

Double or Nothing -- Screenshots part 2/?