Event The Catalyst

A known student of Elena is seen stumbling throughout the city displaying effects of severe overgiving.

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The Diamond of Kalea is located on Kalea's extreme west coast and called as such because its completely made of a crystalline substance called Skyglass. Home of the Alvina of the Stars, cultural mecca of knowledge seekers, and rife with Ethaefal, this remote city shimmers with its own unique light.

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The Catalyst

Postby Neologism on February 17th, 2019, 3:33 am


42nd of Winter, 518AV
14th Bell, Day

Syna’s light graced the Tenten with her warming beauty. Sunlight glinted off the bright Skyglass of the Catholican that stood watch over the delicate peak. It tumbled onto the smooth stone of the Alluvion Academy and shimmered down the Skyglass accents of the educational facility. Although resting during the day, the Observatory was still a sight to behold on the warm winter day with not a cloud in the sky. The throngs of people on this peak was not nearly as thick as that of the Zintia, or even the Sartu, but since it was two bells after the end of the noon rest, the streets were as active as ever. Okomo drifted between the people, nudging pockets and purses in search of treats and pets. Smaller children twittled their fingers in the soft fur of the docile creatures as they passed, then ran through the streets trying to tag one another in a game. The occasional cat flitted between ally-ways or lounged in the sun, and down the main residential avenue of the peak, one could hear the deep tones of a string instrument being practiced in front of an open window.

A few citizens had stopped on the curb beside the musician’s dwelling, catching up with one another, and the easy flow of walkers simply moved around them. Everything about today radiate peace, and tranquility, it was the perfect example of an easy life of an upper middle class Lhavitian. It was exactly this type of easy-going afternoon that temped Rhysol into tossing misery and chaos into the lives of those who dwelled there. Nothing had seemingly changed on the busy residential avenue as Ponrose entered the street. Pride radiated from the woman as her thoughts dwelled on her successful evening at Elena’s Studio. The beautiful instructor had been too harsh on the young mage, encouraging her to take her lessons slower and to not void with such aggression, but Ponrose had disagreed. How was she to learn anything new if she always did the same things? How was she to progress her skill if she didn’t take the risk? Now you can do anything. The soft voice whispered in her ear, and Ponrose absently reached up to brush at the air beside her, a faint warm smile on her lips. From her perception, Ponrose was nearly home after a hard day’s work at the Studio and her pounding headache, surely her only overgiving side effect from such a brazen attempt, needed a cool wet cloth and some soothing tea so that she would be able to sleep through the next rest period.

Only Ponrose’s experience was nothing like what the denizens of the Tenten watched. The young up-and-coming mage seemed almost drunk as she wandered through the streets. Her steps were slow and lethargic and her balance was so terribly off she had taken to clutching the walls of the buildings to guide herself home. The thoughts in her head were not silent, but rather being mumbled and yelled at any one who glanced too long at her. ”I can do anything!” She shouted at a young child that ran too close to the stumbling mage. The young boy shrieked and backpeddled quickly, tripping on the cobbled street and scraping his knees. A flicker of concern radiated in Ponrose’s wide eyes and she leaned down to help the child up. Trustingly the young one took her hand, swallowing his sudden fearful reaction to her outburst, naivety encouraging him to think the best of his fellow Lhavitian.

Instead Ponrose dug her nails into the small child’s arm drawing blood and yanking him up. Smooth white claws gripped each of his arms and she shook him. ”Did you hear me? You can’t stop me!” She shouted at the boy, clearly unaware of how loud she was, or who she was talking to. Without warning her half-crazed expression faltered and grew to concern within a tick and her lids drooped, her voice softening to a gargled murmur, and the boy felt her grip loosen on his arm. ”I didn’t say you couldn’t… she did.” The accusatory tone seemed to come from almost another person, but it was merely a different tone of Ponrose’s own voice. Tear’s streamed down the innocent’s child’s face and blood down his arm. Shock and fear kept him from moving or trying to escape although she was barely holding him now. ”She did?” The young mage’s voice rose again with hysteria and anger all of the sudden and the boy felt her grip tighten on his arm once again, nails digging into already bloodied flesh and his sobs finally broke through the stunned silence. ”Where is she?!” Ponrose shrieked, shaking the boy as if he knew who she was talking about or could provide her with an answer that would satisfy the crazed rage she seemed to trip in and out of. The second oncoming of hysteria seemed to spur the child into action and he began screaming.

”Help! Help! Get her off me! Help!” The music halted unceremoniously, and the passerbys on the street began to slow and swarm, leaving plenty of room for the coming scene to take place. The children he had been playing tag with had circled the mage now, three well fed but still tiny young people. One girl watched in horror, hands over her mouth, the other girl, set with a grim look on her face and something hard clenched in her tiny fist. The other boy darted back in the other direction, reaching the nearest adult and yanking their arm to try and force them to help, but none would approach. The children seemed the only ones willing to get close to the crazed mage, not recognizing her strange hallucinations for what they were. The adults, on the other hand, could immediately tell that this was no ordinary bout of insanity, but rather an episode of overgiving, something too dangerous for them to handle.

”We have to find the Shinya. Go find the Shinya, boy!” The elderly man snapped in hushed tones at the child who pleaded for his help. Those on the end of the street crowded forward to see what the screaming was about, while those closest to the mage began to run away, creating a confusion and a slow mass of bodies watching the oncoming scene in horror, fear, and curiosity. And yet, somehow, this did not steal Ponrose’s attention from the boy in her claws.

”Hey! Leave him be!” The young girl who held the unknown thing in her hand shouted at the woman. She had more sense than to approach Ponrose, but the child raised her arm back, and flung her wrist forward, chucking the item in her hand at the woman. It was a small carved wooden statue of an Okomo, although not sharp or heavy enough to cause damage. Somehow the projectile thunked into the side of Ponrose’s head and she grew to rage, forgetting the boy in her grip and turning to the girl. Something in her expression seemed not quite right because the moment of bravery from the young girl disappeared, and she shrieked and ran.

”Stop!” Ponrose shrieked at the girl, a thick layer of Hypnotism in her voice, and the child found her feet glued to the ground. Panic set in and she began yanking on her calves, completely unable to lift her foot from the ground, although nothing visibly held it there. Ponrose let the boy go, stretching both hands forward and focusing on a space just in front of the girl. Within two ticks, a small point of darkness formed in mid-air. It seemed to swallow all of the light and the air around it, and with ever tick was growing larger. By merely seven ticks later the portal was about the side of the girl’s head, and the child was frozen in fear, watching he void open before her, unable to move.

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The Catalyst

Postby Madeira Craven on February 17th, 2019, 10:06 pm

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    "Can we listen to the busker?" The ghost of Emma Chamelle was a weak suggestion of form in the direct light of day, but Madeira could feel more than see the pleading look she was giving her.

    "Not today, kitten. We have places to be." Madeira sidestepped an Okomo as the creature tried to take a nibble of the bracer crossbow that poked out from under her lace sleeve. The rucksack on her back gave a metallic jangle as her holy flask and ghostnails shifted around inside. Her glass soulmist jars she had left back in the Dusk tower, in about a hundred pieces, after her early morning class got a little out of hand. She wanted to replace them at Saer's Glassworks before going home.

    "Pleeeeeease?" The girl whined, speaking louder to be heard over the music and chatter as they neared the busker on his curb. "Five chimes."

    "Uh-hu, and then another five, and another after that?" Madeira sniffed, wise to the girl's tricks. "Tell you what, as soon as we're done at the shop I'll find you a busker on Zin-"

    Madeira stumbled as somebody collided hard into her shoulder, nearly knocking the pregnant Spiritist over. Emma squeaked in fright, but Madeira rounded on the person, ready to bring Hai down upon such clumsiness. But before the words were halfway out of her mouth the other woman had moved on, and there was something wrong with the way she moved. She clung drunkenly to the walls of the buildings, her body moving and trembling out of her control. Even a dozen paces behind her Madeira could hear her constant stream of mutterings, punctuated by wild shouts. This was not the Avalad madness, or the madness that ruled the undead, this was something much worse. The ghost and human watched her pass in silence.

    "Perhaps we'll listen to that busker after all", Madeira finally spoke, adjusting the drape of the Mouse Cloak over her shoulders before setting off to follow the woman. Emma, no longer keen on the idea, fretted quietly for a chime before following her master.

    The crowed thickened as the mad woman gathered more and more attention, but the two saw everything as they fought towards the front; the boy the woman held trapped, the ring of defiant children, the thrown toy... Madeira had elbowed herself through to the very front of the crowed just as the little girl shrieked and ran. The very air vibrated with dijed as the woman commanded the girl to stop, and Madeira watched with an old familiar horror as the void was opened in front of the girl. Flashbacks to the first and last voider she had ever met, in that sterile clean cottage in Alvadas, flooded her mind, smelling of terror and that pulsing, infinite nothing.

    "I know where she is!" Madeira shouted desperately, pushing herself into the open clearing of space and standing between Penrose and the little girl. Under her sleeve her magic crossbow was sparking nervously, but she wouldn't raise it, not unless she had to. "I know where she is", she said again, her hands out in a pacifying gesture, a soft, understanding and well practiced expression in her eyes. Her own dijed stirred, dragged forward and coalescing in her tongue. Trust me, it whispered, reaching towards the woman to try and settle in the lining of her damaged mind. "Let the little girl go and I'll take you to her."
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    The Catalyst

    Postby Savis Maren on February 17th, 2019, 10:17 pm

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    Though Savis Maren languished within the miniature castle of Infinity Manor, her soul stayed with Tenten Peak. There was nothing like the sensation of quiet, the subdued and intellectual peak wrought only with the distant echo of the quarreling voices of the Basilika. On and on they went, their debate distant but the emphasized words telling the Nuit of the discussion she was about to fall headfirst into. Exiting the Bharani Library with her notebook in hand, she'd just acquired a reference needed to continue her indulgence into the skeleton she sought to bring to life. The project was meant to be a collaboration, a fusion of multiple world magicks and the way forward was treacherous if not traversed carefully. So, piece by piece, the Nuit and Spiritist worked independently, gathering their muses and understanding in an effort to strengthen the project as a whole.

    Unlike most of the denizens of Tenten, Savis Maren took little interest in the Okomo that wandered the streets, allowing them to catch her eye but otherwise abandoned in thought as she looked over her notes. She'd come back to them later, however, for the environment seemed to take a harsher tone. Savis Maren heard the shouts from afar, she felt the vestiges of fear rising and she pulled at the emotion, drawing her djed to her eardrums as she relied on the sensory detail to draw her to the source of disruption. Pain manifested next, and Savis Maren felt a taste course into her tongue, a sensation she'd not known since before her undeath. Iron welled on her lips, and she narrowed her silver eyes as she followed the connection to aura she'd manifested.

    Drawing closer and closer, it wasn't until the next shriek sounded from Ponrose's lips that the Nuit realized exactly what was happening.

    "Help! Help! Get her off me!" a cry emerged from the quelling of music. The smaller crowds of Tenten dispersed, seeing the matter for what it was. Overgiving incidents were often left to the Shinya to deal with, and surely, they would. But, the Shinya wouldn't stop this child's grievous injuries. Voice after voice called after Ponrose, beseeching her to leave the child alone, but Savis' wasn't among them.

    Mortals can cry to the high heavens for help, but the weak do not come to the aid of the weak, she reasoned. Savis didn't believe herself to be strong, but she also felt the cries that escaped the injured child's lips. Then, a child in the crowd, with a heart stronger than the adults, threw the first attack. A wooden statue flew through the air and hit the errant mage right in the face. While injury seemed unlikely from the projectile, it did fling the mage's attention the other way. The bloodied child was released from the fiend's grasp, and the clutches of insanity drove her forth.

    "Stop!" she shrieked, and the Nuit's understanding of aura shivered. She diverted her attention, feeling the swirl of tasked djed and bringing it to her eyes next. Djed faltered through the air, pouring into the brave girl. She stayed in place instead of running, and Savis was reminded of Madeira Craven's cruel hypnotic assault on the Nuit earlier in the season.

    This woman is already overgiving, drawn to insanity and yet... she persists on using magic? Certainly, she's gone then, she thought, the pity strong within the Nuit. But, opportunity arose in this situation. Savis Maren was no altruistic soul. She felt pity, but did not jump into action at the risk of her own life. However, a split-second decision embroiled her, the thought of so many witnesses watching her rise to heroism surely drew a chill down her spine.

    Savis Maren's understanding of aura whittled to nothingness as she breached into the other discpline at her disposal. She formed sleeves of djed that sought to peel the astral from the physical. Once both of her arms were freed, the Nuit reached forth. Astral hands wove through the crowd and towards their destination. the Nuit, fully focused on her target, saw the portal beginning to form. First, it was too small to see, but the shadows spilled over skin as light sucked into the tiny rift. Then, it grew wider and wider, easily the size of the child's head.

    Then, a figure rose from the nothingness. Madeira Craven entered the fray, and Savis had to make adjustments to her plan of action. The Nuit did not reveal herself, her hood raised over her head, but the black silks of her dress and the gray pallour of her flesh might lend to what ensued. Savis Maren didn't wait for diplomacy. Negotiation with the unhinged is impossible, she mused. Instead, the Nuit drew her astral limbs higher, the portal waxing in front of the mage as Savis Maren gripped into the tresses of Ponrose's hair. She pulled back, as fiercely as her astral limbs might allow. At the same time, her other arm sought to sweep beneath Ponrose's feet. Whether or not her venture ended in success, she stepped forward, keeping her astral limbs unleashed as she stepped next to the Spiritist.

    "It'd be just like you to talk down the mad, Madeira. Action is the detention we need right now," she said, her arms limp at her sides as her silver eyes surveyed Ponrose.


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    The Catalyst

    Postby Gemma Parker on February 18th, 2019, 2:16 am


    Gemma breathed in deeply and stretched her arms over her head in pleasure as the sun fell upon her for the first time in several hours. “Oh, that feels so good!” She groaned in Kontinese.

    She had worked through her the Noon Rest period and was definitely feeling sleepy, but since she was done for the day, it was time to begin the long trek all the way back to Sharai Peak where her own bed awaited. It had been a long day at The Catholicon, but not a difficult one. She was starting to get more and more confident with her medicine and herbalism and was starting to pray bolder prayers through her healing gnosis. Her mom would be proud, she was sure.

    ’If she was here.’ The young Konti teen thought. Her mom hadn’t been home almost all season, having left at the turn of winter. She was off on some Opal Order quest for more medical knowledge. But this was not the time for such thoughts, as there could be no resolution and no improvement. And what was more, this should be a joyous day! ’So no, no more thoughts about mother.’ She thought with a nod as she began the slow and pleasant stroll down the winding staircase and into the more crowded part of Tenten.

    She was oblivious to the world as she walked with her eyes to the sky. This was Tenten. The sounds were always the same; the grunts of the Okomo, the thrumming tones of that guy that always seemed to be practicing his whateveritwas, and the constant murmur of bustling crowds, a child’s cries for help- wait, what?

    The shrill appeal broke through the other now dying sounds and pierced through to Gemma’s awareness, snapping her back to the here and now. The sun’s warmth was entirely forgotten as she looked down the slope to the scene that was now unfolding.

    Even from dozens of yards away, Gemma got an idea of what was happening. Some woman, probably an angry drunk by the looks of it, was clearly hurting a young boy, who was desperately trying to get away, and clearly sobbing in pain as he tried to pry himself loose from the deathgrip.

    Gemma’s heart pulled her from spectator to sprinter as she ran against the current of citizens fleeing the scene. That should have meant more to Gemma, and somewhere in her mind, she knew she should have thought more into the presented meaning. If everyone else thought this was dangerous, what wasn’t she seeing? But those thoughts were drowned out by the pulses of adrenaline that were coursing through her with one purpose: save the boy.

    Gemma was not a fast runner, but she was young and she had walked the cobblestone streets many times. Her booted feet consistently found purchase as they propelled her forward down the slope.

    “Hey! Let him go!” She cried out. She was not alone. She saw two other figures standing side by side farther down the slope, along with a young girl about the age of the entrapped boy. As she ran, the scene continued to unfold. The young girl threw something - a projectile? No, a toy. It distracted the crazed woman enough to get her to release the boy. And in an instant, Gemma was there, slowing her pace as she neared and saw that force would not be required to free the boy.

    She had no intent to harm the woman. Her first attention was to the boy whose blood had already fallen to the street in spattered droplets. His wounds were not severe, though the woman’s fingernails could, of course, be carriers of disease. Thankfully, this was nothing Rak’keli’s gift could not resolve in moments.

    “Come with me, child.” She said, offering him a hand, praying under her breath to her goddess even as she reached to make contact. If he did not respond, she would assume that he was in shock and try to pick him up or drag him by the shoulders to get out of sight of the woman. Her attention had been diverted for the moment, but there was no telling how long that would last. And Gemma had a feeling that this boy would not be her only patient on the scene that day. She needed to get him to safety, heal his wound, and return to help with any more injured.
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    The Catalyst

    Postby Neologism on February 18th, 2019, 5:36 am


    Upon feeling another person grabbing at him, the boy would squirm and shriek for a mere tick before realizing that Gemma meant him no harm. ”What is wrong with her?” He sobbed at the Konti, the shock not having yet wore off to force him to recognize his wound. Already it had stopped bleeding, not seeming as gore-y as it could have been, but still not something that should go unaddressed. But the boy was in hysterics, unable to focus on the healer trying to help him, his eyes cast back towards the little girl who had saved him, and a sob broke through his short quick gasps. ”Oh no, help her! What is she doing?” Fear filled the boy’s voice, but he no longer fought the woman, nor did he had the lack of self-preservation to go forth and save his friend himself.

    Madeira’s verbal attack was powerful, but merely bounced off of the djed that flowed from the overgiving mage as if it had not worked. For this moment Ponrose’s level of resolve was completely shot to a sense where it was unpredictable what she could and could not withstand. Still the young mage had sensed the magic used against her which flung her into a rage now focused on Madeira. She turned to leap for the pregnant woman, not caring that she was now threatening more than one life, when something snapped her backwards from the back of her head. Ponrose could not fight the invisible hand that reached for her, but reaction forced her to reach back and try and clutch whatever was grasping at her hands. She found herself falling to her back, the breath knocked out of the mad mage. Without her concentration, the portal zapped out of existence once more, and the girl no longer felt the pull on her from it. Still, the hypnotism had been set and so the child was still unable to move, even as her attacker lay prone on the ground.

    For but a tick, Ponrose seemed to see the world with clarity, realization fell over her face as she watched the scene before her, the scene that she had caused. But before she was able to exist in this clear headed state for too long, the muttering began again. For only a moment she had been distracted enough not to immediately respond to Madeira’s attempt to hypnotize her, but Savis’ words brought her attention back to the mages who confronted her. Without getting up from where she lay, Ponrose extended a hand towards Madeira and Savis, between the two women a portal began to open, quicker than the last. Within five ticks it was half the size of each woman, with a strong pull that could easily throw them off balance if they weren’t careful.

    ”Someone help!” The little girl shrieked, still tugging relentlessly at her calves, unable to physically move forward against the hypnotic command that kept her feet glued to the ground. The sight of another portal of nothingness opening up was terrifying the child into hysterics as well, and she was desperately trying to get away, without being able to budge an inch.

    ”Throw her in.” Ponrose’s deadpan command came, laced with the full blunt of poisonous hypnotism again. Madeira’s offer to take Ponrose to Elena had been completely forgotten by now, and all Ponrose wanted was the two threatening mages gone, and she knew exactly how to do it. The command was aimed to both of the women, in the hopes that one would attempt the move. While they did so, Ponrose rose to her feet again, approaching the girl that was stuck in place with a menacing expression on her face.

    Rolls :
    And we're off!

    Madeira and Savis, please roll your resolve to see if you resist the hypnotism, you just have to beat a 117.

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    The Catalyst

    Postby Madeira Craven on February 18th, 2019, 9:14 pm

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      "Savis?", Madeira gasped as the Nuit materialized from the panicked crowed. Damn it all, why was she here? Her ally's infuriating habit of inflaming tempers would not help her try and leash this woman's madness. What's more, the frail dead woman was toting action as what they needed to subdue her, as if they had a chance of taking the overgiving mage in a fight. Madeira's way would work, it had to work. How many flavours of madness had she appeased, controlled and redirected over her career? This was just one more, only now she had a Nuit in her way.

      "You idiot!" she hissed, "Get out of my-"

      Meanwhile the mage merely shook off Madeira's attempt to hypnotize her, the implanted thought having ripped apart before it even touched her mind. But the attempt enraged her, and the madwoman turned her crazed, bloodshot eyes on the Spiritist, and leapt. Yet Madeira's panicked heart didn't even have the chance to stutter before an invisible force snapped the mage's head back and swept out her feet. She landed on her back in a spray of spittle as Madeira's heart finally found the time to bang painfully against her ribs.

      The realization that Savis and her 'action' had just saved her life was short lived. Clarity shot briefly through Penrose's eyes, but the madness returned and cast a shadow over them. A hand snapped out, and gravity twisted.

      A nothingness Madeira had seen before blossomed between the two allies. Madeira swore she could hear music coming from inside, a plinking little music box, and underneath the voice of a murderer she thought long dead.

      Oh my Rose. My lovely Rose. You would flourish in my garden. Join me and my collection, won't you?

      Madeira screamed, pulling with hysterical strength against the grip of the void that was tugging at her, coaxing her inside. You're gone, you're gone, I killed you!, her soul answered, rocketing against the edges of her mind as she stared into that infinite nothing.

      ”Throw her in.”

      The words came laced with a hypnosis Madeira didn't know. The magic was suppose to be subtle, turning the tide of thought with emotion and suggestion, making the target come to the right conclusion themselves. But this was something else; a command. And even recognizing the blatant and obvious use of the magic she couldn't shake it. The command repeated, reverberating in her mind, drowning out all other thought. Obsession, she realized, but it was the last true thought she had.

      Her fear evaporated, and all that mattered was that Savis must be thrown into the void. Her hand shot out, and seized the Nuit by the collar of her pretty white dress, her other hand grabbed her by the shoulder, pushing her back into that blackness. ”Throw her in", the Spiritist repeated, cackling, her eyes rolling madly in her skull. "Throw her in!"
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      The Catalyst

      Postby Savis Maren on February 18th, 2019, 9:43 pm

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      "Throw her in,"

      The command sent a chill down her spine as the astral hands continued to make contact with the addled Hypnotist. The fists clenched sought to crash down on whatever the Nuit could reach up until the thought manifested within her. She turned towards Madeira Craven, and pulled back on her astral limbs. The soul shoved back into her body, waves of pain shooting across the Nuit's nerves as the hasty re-attachment tore through her. She cried out in her agony, but the pain served only to shelve her reason, her intention further falling to the mania of the hypnotic assault on her consciousness.

      Thrust her into the nothingness, she thought. The Nuit looked to the portal and drew her silver pools within, seeing the desolate nothingness of the Other Side for the first time in recent memory. Savis Maren was held by her collar, the dress straining against Madeira's movements. Self-preservation thrust forth into thought, and her jaw clenched as she pushed the flimsy weight of her carcass shell. Her head jerked back and then forward, fully intent on collision with the Spiritist's forehead.

      Throw her in, she thought, the overwhelming need to do so embroiling her thoughts and turning the hot-headed Savis Maren fully into the aggression her heart craved. Unhinged and uncontrolled, she suffered none of the disorientation from the collision. She sought to steer the Craven into the portal, but her paltry strength wasn't enough to sway the Spiritist's enhanced girth due to pregnancy. She backed away, seeking to regroup as the overwhelming intention collided with her tactical mind.

      How do I do it? How do I force her in? she wondered. In the depths of thought, the Nuit didn't realize what the ramifications were. This rift was just another door, a way into a different place, just like how Madeira Craven took her once to another realm with the key she kept around her neck. Knowing nothing of the Other Side, the obsession fully fuelled her actions, and her lips curved into a wry grin as her eyes darted to and fro from the mage to the Spiritist.

      "How do I do it?" she asked, her words meant more for herself as the two slow and weak mages tested their paltry mettle against one another. Savis pushed forth, forgoing the use of her weakened arms as she sought to collide straight into the Spiritist. Her shoulder turned, and the Nuit's poor form and slow body sought to tackle the woman and complete the task set ahead for her. Around the Nuit, the crowds watched in horror, both at the fight between the two supposed 'heroes' and Ponrose whose mind overwhelmed with Sweet Whispers pushed her inexorably to cruelty and destruction. Savis Maren saw no friends or allies, she merely saw the objective and used the full breadth of intelligence to figure out a way to do it.

      Throw her in. Throw her in.

      "Darkness comes for one of us," she said, high and cruel laughter escaping her as she was taken to the heights of mania. Djed surged within her soul, and she pulled again at her arms, yanking at the raw astral form. Pain shot through her once again as she pushed her astral body forward. She'd seek to knock the Spiritist off balance, keeping her distance as the ultimate goal failed to draw any nearer.

      "Darkness comes for one of us," she repeated.


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      The Catalyst

      Postby Gemma Parker on February 18th, 2019, 11:29 pm

      The boy’s bleeding was healed by the time Gemma got him around the corner of a house. He still needed more medical attention, but with a quick glance around the corner of the house, she saw that he was no longer her first priority. In the few short moments that she had been around the corner tending to the boy, everything had changed. Previously, it had been two against one. But now somehow the crazy lady had been knocked over and the other two were now grappling with each other.

      She turned back to the boy just long enough to say, “go straight to the Catholicon and have them look at your arm. I’ll be there when I can. Go!” She held the boy’s face so that he looked her in the eye, and pointed up to her workplace. But there was no time to make sure he followed her instructions. She turned back, hiding behind the wall as she tried to evaluate what had happened.

      Four people. Three adults, one child. The child was the priority. But wait. One of the women was clearly pregnant - one of the two combatants. What was she doing fighting hand to hand while pregnant? Her priority had shifted. Only one scenario made sense. The cloaked figure must have attacked the pregnant woman. It made no sense for the reverse to be true. That meant that the pregnant woman was now the priority. And in those few moments, as she watched, the cloaked woman head-butted her in the face. The pregnant woman was now also wounded. She was moving again, her healing mark compelling her to protect and heal.

      Her booted feet thumped across the street as she charged past the crazy lazy in a straight line toward the two women. The pulsing void that had been opened in front of the girl was now also close to the women, and it was getting bigger. She didn’t know what that was, but it was clearly not a good thing. It looked like the women were struggling for an advantage in an attempt to push the other into the blackness.

      There was no more time to thought. With only a slight course correction, Gemma spread her arms out before her and dropped her shoulder, closing her eyes at the last minute in anticipation of the impact.
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      The Catalyst

      Postby Neologism on February 19th, 2019, 9:19 pm


      Each mage was fairly weak. One with no organs or muscles to fill the shell of a dead body she inhabited, the other weighed down by the growth of life in her abdomen. Their scuffle was interrupted by the heavy impact of the Konti as she pushed them out of the way.

      Although her eyes could not focus entirely on the scene before her, Ponrose took the chance to evade her attackers. She just wanted to go home but someone was calling to her, and goading her into finishing the fight. She felt herself crying, although she didn’t know why, struggling to her feet Ponrose absently wiped her face, unknowingly smearing bright crimson blood across her cheek and neck, flinging speckles of the life force into the ground while she stood. You’re not done here. The voice that seemed to come from no one mumbled to her, and the mage glanced at the three who dared challenge her. They are nothing, you can end this now.

      ”I don’t want to, I don’t want any of this.” She shrieked at the voice, sniffling at the blood that was now pouring from her nose as well. Vaguely Ponrose could feel the surge of djed from her limbs, although she could not control the output of the magic. Beside her small portals zapped in and out of existence by her feet, and she stumbled forward, leaving the three alone and heading towards the girl who still stood frozen in the streets as if her feet had been molded into the cobbled ground beneath her. A void opened right in front of Ponrose’s face as she approached the girl and the overgiven mage half heartedly ducked, getting her hair tangled in the lack of matter. It yanked at her and she screamed, terrifying the child she approached. However no less than a tick later the void had disappeared, taking half of her brown locks with it. ”Help me,” She asked the child, unsure why she was making her way to the stuck child. To free her?



      ”You can go! You can all go! Leave me alone!” She shrieked, released her djed grasp on the child, and unintentionally on the women as well. Acting immediately the small child began running towards the receding crowd and subsequent safety, Ponrose extended a hand to reach for her, and a portal opened directly in front of the girl, growing quickly. The child shrieked, and stopped short, falling directly into Ponrose’s bloodied hands. Whatever remnants of logic were left in her mind told her the Shinya were coming, and they would be coming quickly. The whole confrontation felt like bells, but it had actually barely been a chime. You can’t leave. I need you!” Ponrose mumbled and then screamed to the girl. She needed the girl, she needed her. I have to get out of here, you’re going to come with me.

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      The Catalyst

      Postby Madeira Craven on February 20th, 2019, 7:40 pm

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        The obsession left no room in Madeira’s head for independent thought, but there was enough self awareness to feel the impact of the projectile that blindsided her and Savis. The breath left her in a gust lead by the scaled shoulder held level with her chest. The three of them went down hard, Madeira landing on her hip and shoulder.

        The mad mage had moved on, little portals popping into existence in her wake like the very fabric of reality was shredding around her. With her cheek pressed to the cobblestone the Spiritist saw the long brown hair get tangled in the pull of a voids gravity and disappear, yanked from her scalp and sliced off. And suddenly Madeira was breathing a little easier. The growing portal above them vanished, and the weight of hypnotism on her mind lifted, and suddenly she could hear her own thoughts in the press of madness. The obsession did not dissipate entirely, and it would take a very long time before the ghost of the demand ever truly left her system, but her sanity came back to fill the empty space where the magic was. Reality dawned on her, and she pushed herself away from the other two women.

        Oh gods, I tried to kill Savis. A vertigo and a desperate need to be sick, a typical symptom of obsession, hit her hard, but she shook it off and tried to stand. Who was the other woman? Pale hair and iridescent scales identified her as a Konti, but it was nobody she knew. Whoever she was, she might have just saved their lives. she clasped the girl’s hand and pulled her to her feet.

        ”You can go! You can all go! Leave me alone!” Another bout of lucidity was on the mage, she had released them as well as the little girl, who started to run. But as quickly as it came it was gone again, and a void roared into life, blocking the girl’s way with its hungry, sucking mouth.

        Madeira remembered when Savis tripped the mage, and the brief look of clarity when she hit the ground. And again, when her hair was ripped out. She was fighting her madness, Madeira realized, and it seemed like pain was what shocked her overburdened mind back to reality.

        She shook her head and willed her dijed forward again. Her attempts at an emotional response the mage had shook off like it was nothing. Perhaps something stronger would work.

        “It looks like she’s most sane when she’s hurt”, she explained her theory to the other two women in a hushed voice. “I’ll try and quiet her madness. But Savis, I need you to hurt her somehow. We want her as lucid as we can. Konti”, she addressed the stranger with the clear blue eyes. “try and get the little girl away from her.”

        She spoke fast, and in the tones of someone used to being obeyed. But these women were not her servants, her students or her bonded, and she could only hope they would act on her plan. It wasn’t even much of a plan, but it was all she had time for. They had no ability to actually restrain the woman. The way she saw it, their best bet was to keep her occupied and away from others until the Shinya arrived.

        Madeira summoned all the force of her hypnotism and seared it into her words. This was not an emotional response; some slick, subtle thing she wanted to weave into her thoughts. This was a surge, a hammer to drive the emotions she wanted directly into her brain like a nail.

        “STOP”, she roared, and the magic burned as she ferried it to the overgiving mage by force of will. “I know you’re in there. Don’t listen to the whispers, fight it.” The words, lathered with bravery and strength of mind, tried to find the woman drowning underneath the sweet whispers. “Stay, and we can help you. Stay and fight.”
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