Ishgar Symposium (Group 1, Pergrande)

It seemed as if it wouldn't take much to utterly dominate these random attackers, and Yuliana deFleur had expected no less. The scythe that had materialized effortlessly bisected the first target with a vertical swing multitudes faster than the roar of thunder, separating one of its halves from the other like there was no resistance at all. Like a bullet whizzing through the air, the girl moved on to the next target, her attack practically destroying the next attacker as her moment carried her past the figure, its head taken off in an instant without any room to evade or react. The girl came to a brief stop, the wide grin on her face turning into a malicious cackle. She was enjoying herself at this moment that she had so eagerly anticipated, but something didn't really feel right. The opponents didn't give her as much of a reaction as she would have liked. There were no shrieks of despair, no cries of soul-crushing agony, they simply fell like stringless dolls, useless dead weight that crumpled without any resistance or defiance. It definitely wasn't as fun this way.

Still, this fact did not deter the Flareblaze Witch from executing the remaining opponent before her, the scythe leaving a trail of flashing sparks as the girl dragged the weightless object through the rocky ground and into her enemy at mind-numbing velocity, the target being separated diagonally from waist to torso and scattered onto the ground. In the end, the targets she had picked out had been dealt with so swiftly that it was almost disappointing. Azalith seemed to do his job alright, the girl figured, but still ... for a human to behave like this when cut in twain ... something was wrong. The girl instinctively looked over her shoulder, leaving herself open for just a second, but it would be enough to make realization dawn on her face, the expression of genuine surprise giving way to a troubled grimace as her eyebrows furrowed closer together.

Unfortunately for Yuliana, that one second was all that was needed. Caught completely off guard, the girl would suddenly be picked up and launched across the open space by a massive shockwave that rippled across the cold stone of the passage, slamming into a solid wall with the full force of the explosion that had seemed to rock the entirety of this mountain. The Flareblaze Witch gave a groan as she impacted and fell to the floor, the audible crack of shattering bone being swallowed by the thunderous roar of the detonation. Even Yurielle, protected by an otherworldly defense that she believed realistically unbreakable, found herself forced to one knee briefly as she lost her balance, and while the dome of ice did mitigate the shock, the shaking of the mountain was something that couldn't exactly be protected against. Yurielle, however, was fine, standing up again and turning her head to where her sister had stood just moments before ... only to realize that she was no longer there.

Her eyes instinctively followed the path to the wall, her head turning slightly, and ...

"Yuli!"

Yurielle moved immediately and without any delay as soon as she had laid eyes upon her sister, the shield around Stefan dissipating as soon as she moved with the same speed as she had before, practically dashing to her sister's side and leaving the Imperial Envoy to his own devices before seemingly ignoring his existence completely. It was instinct more than a conscious decision, but even if Yurielle had thought about it for a few seconds, rationalized it, she would have done the same thing, her face, for the first time ever since this mission had started, showing emotion, an expression of intense anxiety. Nothing and no one was more important to the older twin than her younger sister, and if that meant that she had to compromise her mission ..., well, that was an acceptable outcome.

Yuliana, however, had already sat up. The pain was bearable, she had been through much worse, but she swiftly realized that her right arm could not be moved, the limb dangling from her shoulder at an unnatural angle. Blood dripped down the shattered extremity and the side of her face, a visible laceration on her forehead trickling a small, constant stream of crimson sanguine. Still, despite that, her expression twisted in pain and a seemingly boundless hatred, she stood, turning to her approaching sister. If any attacker approached them again, Yurielle's ice would automatically move to intercept them. "I'm fine, don't worry". Yurielle visibly relaxed, but would still join her sister's side, unpromptedly inspecting her sister's arm, the latter flinching in pain when the Icestorm Witch touched her. "I can see that", came back the reply, her otherwise monotonous voice carrying a twinge of sarcasm.

Yurielle looked her sister over, then turned towards the rest of the group, the assailants, and lastly, Borisov, her mind working to solve this current predicament, and she arrived at a single conclusion time and time again: With Yuliana injured, she was no willing to continue the mission, but still determined to fulfill her plan. Since they could not locate Bellum's representative ... well, there had to be a substitute. If they could get whoever Bellum sent to these talks at the same time that would simply be an added bonus.

"Yuliana, change of plans", the Icestorm Witch spoke again, her cold demeanor having returned to her. Yuliana, still in the process of getting back to her senses, wiped some of the blood out of her right eye with her left hand, the dark liquid drawing a trail of red across the porcelain skin of her fingers and wrist. "So, we'll do that, huh?", Yuliana asked with a voice that appeared closer to the pained growl of a feral animal than that of a girl. Yurielle simply nodded.

"Let us waste no time, then. Azalith!", the older twin commanded, the mysterious creature that possessed the twins shadow echoing through their minds once more.

"Yes, child?".

"Turn it all to ash".

"How exhilarating. I shall".

Before the decisive moment, however, as a small measure of security, Yurielle would turn to Borisov, her expressionless face shifting into a small smirk, her eyes piercing through him, the monotonous voice laced with a tinge of amusement. As descendants of a Bellian noble family, she knew that her threat wouldn't lack credibility.

"Farewell, Stefan Borisov. Bellum sends its regards".

In that one moment, time seemed to slow down. The shadows belonging to Yurielle and Yuliana, the girls still standing close together, merged together, and from within the darkness of that obscurity rose a being unlike anything that Earthland could produce. This monstrous thing was clad entirely in shadow, its upper body a swirl of semi-corporeal darkness that towered a good 10 feet tall, while its lower body was comprised of a string of shadows connecting it to the twins. This creature, the form given to Azalith, Patron of Shadows, exuded an aura and pressure unlike anything else for a brief second, power of a sort to drive weaklings into a mad frenzy, before finally ripping open a maw on its face, a hole in its umbral jaw interconnected with strings of charcoal darkness, releasing a deafening and terror-inducing screech.

Then, only a second later, the world would turn black as it was swallowed up by an endless void, crushed, pulverized, and turned into its component atoms. Everything around the twins, if the spell would take its full effect, would fade away like a scattering of dust in the wind as a wave of infinite nothingness spread from their position. Within the span of a moment in time that came close to an instant it would swallow first the people around them, the lift, the passage, and their assailants. Naturally, Yurielle was betting on the fact that this included the Imperial Envoy, as well, a fact that was critical to her plan. Then, the whole mountain would follow immediately after, turned to ash and scattered. The famous market building and the people eagerly waiting for the signing of peace. Gone. Then, finally, it would spread out to the rest of Felidae City, the residential areas, the shops, the people going about their daily lives, and even the protests, the riots, the unrest. Within the span of less than a single second, the vast majority of Felidae City would be wiped off the map in its entirety, turned to dust, ash, and a simple dark space of empty nothingness.

It would, however, not take long for the void to disappear, the dome of ink-black horror persisting briefly before collapsing in on itself, leaving behind a vacuum that was immediately filled by air, the strong hurricane-force winds whipping up clouds of dust, ash, and smoke high into the air and obscuring a clear visual on the aftermath. If one could perceive it, however, they would spot a deep crater in the earth where Felidae had been just moments earlier, filled and surrounded by what seemed like grey desert dunes. It was the finest of ash, all things that had been in the radius of the spell, buildings, millions of people, and even energy, split into fine atomic dust or simply dispersed before sinking to the ground. Yurielle and Yuliana, however, would be gone, nowhere to be seen, and hopefully, the same would go for everyone involved with this unsuccessful incident, excluding the lab rat who fancied himself a Guild Master. Well, he would certainly get his wish. Plumed Serpent would enter the annals of history without a doubt. If he had any sense, however, he would leave the site as soon as possible.

It would be an event that would remain within the twin's shared memory for a while, both for the experience it provided them with, especially concerning the application of their Eyes, and for the hope they placed on the events that would have to follow this incident.

---

Post Word Count: 1,639
Word Count: 6,655 / 4,000

OOC Notes:

Stats:

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

Ishgard Symposium - Group 1 (Pergrande)

The armored soldier was able to drag some of the masks down through, yet even with fine control over objects, he still failed to do so for the rest. Curious, it’s as if the masks themselves were their faces, or perhaps their masks were too secure to be taken off. Nevertheless, the gas doesn’t appear to affect them as much, and despite this disappointing attempt of weakening them, he was able to cull some of their numbers. Guns blazing, the soldier was able to take down several enemies - four from the bullets of his pistols and two from his dagger after a quick blink. Despite this achievement, he reacted too late as one of the enemy’s hammer sent him flying to the metal gates as the attack connected. It’s painful, yes, but not to him. This pain was something he was accustomed to, and it was a significantly weaker blow compared to the attacks he received from a dark guild’s guildmaster in a previous job. Mayhaps even weaker, comparable only to weaker fighters. He was angry, and subconsciously, he caused himself in a state of rage. A red telekinetic aura would be seen wreathing around him, increasing his might. He’d fight back, his hands reaching out to his enemies. A loud explosion could be heard, shifting his focus to one of the corpses of the enemies exploding. Great, he thought. They must be prepared to get rid of the envoy, even sacrificing their own lives for the cause. Anti-pergrandian ambushers, no doubt.

He’d channel his psionic energy, a kaleidoscopic aura wreathing around him in his attempt to bend reality to his favor. He had plans to drag everyone to the chaos dimension to leave the mountain intact while they can fight freely and without repercussions from being caved in from all the explosions of the dead ambushers. This was something he had just recently learned how to do, and he was confident in his ability to pull it off. Yet this opportunity would come to a pass as images flashed through his mind. A precognition, doubtlessly, as time seemed to stop for him. The events would then be played in a similar manner to a film played with a cinema reel, the scene staged similarly to their location where they were fighting the ambushers. The twins would make their move, as shadows would coalesce to form a figure. Then, only the black void would fill the room. Everything - disintegrated, as if erased from existence, including himself, the Pergrandian envoy, and the Sabertooth Guildmaster. And he was finally back to his senses, looking around at the scene to find everyone to be in the exact same spot as they were in his precognition. Despite his ability to harness the chaos dimensions, it is no match to this level of cataclysmic might. His skills are, at best, in their infancy stages.

There must be something he can do, and he only has a few moments to spare before the twins would enact their horrible spell. If he can’t secure this spell to the chaos dimension, maybe he can drag his allies away. He was able to create portals before, a technique he had already done many times before. But to do this and bring everyone away from Felidae would be impossible. ...no, it’s not impossible. He’s already done it on rare occasions. To create multiple wormholes for multiple people would be far too taxing, and he’d be brought to his limit immediately if he’d try to create two. There is one way, perhaps a little risky for his own well being - channel the powers of C’thulhu and the demon inside him like batteries. If he’s powerful enough to bend the weakened eldritch god to his knees, he can just as well siphon power from the beings within him. He might as well try, or elicit their help out of desperation not knowing the repercussion of his actions. Well, he’ll know one way or another, as he would soon discover. “I don’t care what happens to me. Lend me your strengths so I may bring us to safety!” He’d scream out in his mind, trying to vie for their powers.

“Anything…?” In unison, two voices echoed deep within the dark recesses of his mindscape. “In that case…”

The esper steeled himself for the surge of energy. Red telekinetic energy would wreath around his hands in his attempt to conjure multiple portals at once. The power it’d take for him to conjure this is massive, evident as his armor starts disintegrating into codes and vanishing completely. Part of his helmet would reveal the face underneath - a man bearing crimson red eyes and hints of Pergrandian lineage from his face. A portal would appear behind the envoy first, followed by the Iceberg woman, Estrid. And then one would appear behind the Sabertooth guild master, who he’d know is fighting the same battle as them evident from the number of dots from his map that’s foreign. There’s also one for his magitech engineer, Giselle, who’s somewhere around Felidae just waiting for the treatise to commence, oblivious to the fact that Felidae would disintegrate, as well as his twin brothers Ozwald and Francois, who he’d create portals for as well. By then, the shadows would coalesce as, one by one, these portals appeared behind his allies and moved so that the portal would send them away, disappearing immediately as they're sent to where he sent them. Whereto? Ideally - Pergrande. Cold winds would breeze through the portal and subject them to the unmistakable chill of the imperial continent. For the case of his twins, however, they would be sent home to Era. After each portal, he’d find himself mentally strained and hurting. It was a mild headache at first, but it would soon grow into a painful migraine. Yet he cannot falter. He’d exceed the limits of his powers trying to save everyone. More of his armor would disappear into code, and he’d find the consequence of his actions - eldritch sigils would appear on his left arm glowing a faint teal, and on his right arm, he’d find it slowly transforming into something demonic. It wasn’t apparent to him as he wasn’t paying attention, focused only on getting everyone away.

If he could expend much more power beyond his limits, he’d make portals for every Pergrandian Soldier and send them back with them. Yet he can't save everyone. With what little energy he had left, he’d use it to send a telepathic message for the strongest wizards left in Felidae, but it would have already been too late. He’d spent his last few remaining energy to conjure a portal for himself beneath him, falling flat on Pergrande with the snow cushioning his fall. “Damn… you… Plumed… serpen...” These were the words he uttered before he’d finally passed out from this entire ordeal, the drifting snow the last thing he’d seen followed by the blurry visages of his comrades.

“Michael? Michael!”

Ability Used:

WC: 1002 | TWC: 4747

1250/6724

Felidae City

Michael Brooklyn Morgan "Red Alert"

Ishgard Symposium - Group 1 (Pergrande)

It was supposed to be a fine day. Of celebration, to end the years long war between Bellum and Pergrande that no more lives may be unnecessarily taken. Yet in this joyous of occasions, the blonde haired woman named Giselle woke up late. A few winks and a yawn was all it took before it dawned on her that she was already late for the occasion. “Oh no, I’m late!” She said in a panicked tone. The engineer would have no need for baths because, after all, ‘That’s what perfumes and colognes are for!’, just as she’d say everytime she was late and questioned when skipping a quick shower. “Let’s see…” she mumbled to herself as she stared at the mirror of the pristine bathroom, looking at her messy hair with such disgust. Not that Michael would know, but Giselle is a telekinetic as well, though not as powerful, as it was owed to her lineage as having a tiny bit of Pergrandian blood. To what percentage is a mystery, an enigma she isn’t particularly interested in. “I’ll just do all of them at once.” The appliances would plug in themselves through her psychokinetic will, all of them fixing and tidying up her hair while she hurriedly put on her makeup. Can’t show up with an ugly face, she’d always say to herself. “A most important day and I almost missed it! Like, unbelievable!” She said in between putting on her foundation and some other makeup. Blush, contour, eye shadows, lipsticks, lip gloss. She can’t miss a single thing. Everything has to be beautiful. No, more like she can’t work if she herself isn’t wearing makeup.

“I’ll have to apologize to the guys. Oh no… I hope they aren’t, like, mad at me!” She’d murmur to herself while donning her attire. No less eye-catching, yet not something worthy for the red carpet. No, she’d exert this much effort if she was going to official events. Only a simple combination of makeup and blouse and stuff would do, not over the top but quite fashionable for an event like this. She’d meet up with Michael’s twins, Ozwald and Francois to stand witness to the treatise. She was looking forward to it, but little did she know that catastrophe would befall upon Felidae.

A spark would appear in front of her. It quickly expanded into a ring, creating a portal revealing a snowy plain out in the wilderness. To where she couldn’t say, but before she could react to what happened, she was already a few steps away from the portal, her designer heels creating petite impressions on the snow laden grounds. “Eh-?” It was too late for her to go back as she turned her heel to go through the portal once more, as it had already started to shrink. Before it could dissipate, however, she’d see what Felidae was before it was consumed in total darkness. The force of the spell that annihilated around 2/3rds of the city knocked her back, the snow cushioning her fall. It would be her last memory of the place, her eyes wide with shock trying to process what had just happened. She had not noticed that portals appeared around her vicinity, transporting most, if not, all Pergrandian soldiers to the snow laden landscape. And then she saw Michael, unconscious and unresponsive to the stimuli, lying idly by what looked like a dragon. And then she saw another woman, who looked like she was held up her throat by an invisible force - telekinesis, she would later deduce, from the enraged envoy. Yet her focus was not on them, no, it was Michael’s. She immediately rushed towards the esper’s side, trying to wake him up. “Michael? Michael!” She’d cry out. He’s definitely out cold and, from the psionic residues on his body, he must be the one responsible for the portals. To pass out like this must mean he exerted too much of his psionic power to save everyone, but mass teleportation of this scale isn’t possible at his current psychokinetic strength. No, he must have had help from someone, and she was horrified to see the price he had to pay.

The most obvious one was what appeared to be a demonic arm, his right arm now a rigid red and scars of hellish energy coursing through it. Sharp claws replaced his calloused hands, now capable of rending flesh just as easily as cutting paper with a sharpened blade. Though it appears dorman, she could feel the presence of the demon’s dominion from it. It wasn’t as obvious at first, but hidden beneath the leather sleeves of his left arm are what appears to be sigils of eldritch origin with a faint ominous glow. The former, she was aware of since she was apprised of his situation, but the eldritch sigils were new to her but its eeriness bespoke madness unparalleled. To her, at least. Try as she might, she can’t wake up the soldier. The conversation between the Sabertooth guild master and the Pergrandian envoy was drowned out from trying to process everything that transpired.

“How could this happen…” She said, tears visibly forming around her eyes; sad, not just from Michael’s situation, but also because this momentous day would be remembered as the day thousands died from this cruel spell. “Today was supposed to be the best day ever, damn it!” She’d cry out, “We’re supposed to have peace! No more bloodshed! No more needless deaths! All of us, tired of this war that’s been going on since who knows when! Yet clearly someone does not want that!” She stood up and stared at the envoy, with burning vengeance aflame in her sky-hued eyes. “No… someone clearly wants the war to continue, and they clearly want to blame you for this misfortune. And I’m willing to bet the other representative met the same fate as the rest. Michael knows what happened. He should, and if he wakes up, gods forbid it, we will exact our vengeance without mercy for the people of Joya.” She, rage building up inside her, though it fell short as she’s exhausted herself from all the crying and of the anger she felt. “Michael had siblings, you know. Like, twins. Four of them with the same faces. They had magic, while he didn’t. Despite this difference, they could get along perfectly.” She then shifted her gaze at the woman, who she was now aware of her identity as the guild master of Sabertooth, and then back to Stefan. “And please, let her go. She’s not the one at fault. If not out of the kindness of your heart, at least spare her for Michael. You owe your lives to him. These evil mages are the enemies, not her and all of the good wizards who wanted to make the world a better place. Call me naive, whatever. If anything, we’d gladly clear you of your suspicion if you permit us. I do know one thing - we will hunt down the bitches who did this, forgive my French, with or without your help.”

1250/6724

Felidae City