Into the abyss..

[Nick]

~: One of those nights. The moon isn't full but it isn't gone either. It hangs in the twilight mire, waining crescent threatening to disappear and plunge the world into darkness. Long clouds curl and stream through the sky, carried on a wind born of ill haste. These fingers of gray creep along, obscure what little light our floundering crescent creates. And in the din, in one of the higher-up rooms of Castle Gravesbane a lone Valkyn'Vi sets to work learning the language of his birthright. :~

~: Its an odd sight, Legion of Sin sitting in a posh chair, sipping what can only be a glass of some deep red wine. Even stranger is that rather than wielding a sword in one hand he's clutching a book, a quill in the other. On a small table beside him sits his ink bottle and the Andar knows how much parchment. He's busy scribbling this and that, writing in his races language. He brings the quill to the blade-like maw of his mask, cursing as his heterochromatic irises spot a mistake in his work. :~

~: His eyes...they widen in the sockets of his mask as he looks at what he has written, as he feels a bizarre quiver in his left hand. What happens next...well...some swift movement knocks down our candlelight vigil, and we are treated to the sounds of outrageous and barbaric combat!:~

~: Anyone in the immediate vicinity of this aforementioned study will be treated to a wall-shaking guttural scream. If you could mix the pure and unfiltered agony of someone who has just lost their entire family with the terrific rage brought on by having something you cherish most ripped from your hands you may make a close approximation of the sound that begins this midnight war. One wall has several bricks thrust out almost entirely from their mortar as a condensed magical strike impacts that area. :~

~: Blades are heard slashing through air, against one another, and most importantly cleaving flesh with their honed and perfect edges. The sound of wet splatters: the flicks of blood that find their way to the outermost areas of this room are more than audible amongst the roars, grunts and screams of suffering and anger. All of this happens in five...six...maybe 13 seconds exactly before the silence of before swallows the scene...and the only sound from the closed door of the room is a heavy, almost animalistic breathing that shatters the stillness of this dreadful night. :~

[Dallid]

The door swings open, revealing Dallid standing ready with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other.

[Nick]

~: Dallid is met not by the light of the candle that had formerly illuminated the study but by a dull crimson glow. If one were to stain glass with blood and place behind that a lantern it may cause the same effect. The source of this light would be a brutally ugly blade clutched tightly in Legion's right hand, the Valkyn'Vi standing in the exact center of the room. To say he does not look well would be the understatement of the night. :~

~: Red life is splattered across almost every wall in the study, all in the exact same strange pattern as it oozes and slides towards the floor. There's still some of it leaving Legion's body, deep gashes splitting his white flesh across his torso, down his arms and visible through the black fabric of his pants. His left arm looks as though its barely attached, a horrific gash splitting his bicep just above the elbow. The useless limb just hangs limp, blood dripping from black fingertips. He's hunched over at the waist, facing towards Dallid as he pants heavily, each breath causing droplets of blood from fall from beneath his mask to join the steadily-growing pool beneath him. :~

// Note: If you can read Valkyn'Vi PM me and I will Reply with what the pattern says.

~: In his right hand is an unfamiliar weapon, a longsword bearing a lustrous golden skull design on its crossguard. A pair of horns extend forward on either side of the black blade, flame-like whisps of crimson ether brimming along the length of the blade and perfectly illuminating this bloodshine scene. :~

~: A dark smoke hangs in the air, bursts of mana perhaps from Legion or his blade still emptying from the room via the open window behind him. The walls, the chairs, most everything bares in some way or another a sign of the struggle. Slashes and cuts, blackened marks from concentrated mana impacting the walls and other objects. :~

~: To Dallid's left, impaled in the wall is one of Legion's smaller shortswords, jutting at a diagonal angle with its pommel pointed up towards the ceiling. The other blade is slashed through the chair he had been sitting in, resting three quarters of the way into the cut it inflicted. And jutting up from Legion's right shoulderblade a hint of black and gold...the Godslayer dagger buried almost to the hilt in Legion's back. :~

~: His eyes seem unfocused, his breathing heavy and strained as though he fights for each and every one. He doesn't even seem to notice Dallid, just standing right where he is in the mire of his own blood. :~

[Gabrial]

*Upon hearing the sound of what only could be horrific and dreadful things happening, Gabrial comes rushing in from the courtyard fire to help in any way. As he turns the corner behind Dallid and sees the carnage upon the room itself he then focuses on Legion. Only one thing enters his mind and he can't help but speak them aloud*

"Holy shit...."

*Gabrial just stands there for a moment absorbing what he sees*

"Legion....LEGION! Are you ok?! *Gabrial moves in to hold him up* "What happened here?"

[Dallid]

"WAIT!" Dallid shouts to Gabrial as he moves forward. "Do not yet touch him! He might have been the only physical combatant here, the wounds self-inflicted. Who can say what his perceptions are, or whom currently perceives through those eyes?"

Dallid takes a moment to focus upon the Valkin'Vi's mind. Then he approaches cautiously and strikes swiftly.

"Sleep."

[Nick]

~: Dallid's actions were most likely for the best, as Gabrial's approach had been met by a rising growl deep in Legion's throat. Not that he had moved in any way, shape or form to go on the offensive. The sword had remained hovering in the air, far from attempting a swing at the man as he had moved to Legion's aid. :~

~: With Dallid's blow the eyelids fluttered, the breathing eased slightly and the wounded Valkyn'Vi pitched forward. His eyes made the final retreat as he fell, rolling back as his white eyelids sealed in the black sockets of his mask. The magical energies casting their bloodshine light from his wicked longsword were put out by this action, but Legion's hand did not relinquish the hilt of the weapon. No, it just moved with him, fingers locked in an almost death-grip on that ugly thing. :~

[Dallid]

Dallid sheaths his weapon and tosses aside his shield to begin immediately healing Legion, restorative magicks flowing between them.

“A great, if brief, battle was fought here with magic and blades, but apparently with Legion the only target. Was he fighting off possession by the sword? And who in the end won?”

He pulled Godslayer slowly from the Valkin’Vi’s back, knitting bone, muscle, and flesh back together in its wake.

“I will merely stabilize him until we know for certain.”

When the blood had stopped flowing, Dallid let his consciousness flow outward. All Phanterran entities were connected - a part of the world. It was a simple matter to use this interconnectiveness to access Legion’s mind and probe its vast network of thoughts for telling details. He noticed almost immediately that something was… off, but this did not yet cause alarm. He needed to investigate.

(Mind Probe) “ Is the dominant consciousness of this mind the same as I last spoke with outside Esmerelda’s chambers?”

[Smitty19]

*Heard from the doorway as Serith approaches, allowing the glowing ball of energy to subside from his grasp

"I knew that fool would fall to that swords call."

"I am just glad he didnt injure anyone but himself."

*Serith approaches the Fallen Valkn'vi and begins summoning energies to his hand as he kneels next to the sword hand that is clasped as it was the most precious jewel in the world.

"Luckily they told me how to remove the grip that this sword holds on the weilder, at least momentarily."

*Shatter on sword, and the sword goes skittering out of Legions hand as it was disarmed by a talented swashbuckler with a practiced hand. The Sword is in perfect condition still even after the destructive energies Serith unleashed upon it.

"Now we have to get this fucking thing out of here to never be found or wielded again!"

[Nick]

"It is..."

~: The voice was that of Legion's, strained and wounded and above all else bitter in its tone. Dallid finds himself in the mind of this Valkin'Vi, and what a unique place it is. Rolling fields of green all around him, and he stands upon the only hill he can see in this land. Above him is the towering canopy of an oak. :~

~: All around is the sound of rain, but it is not clear droplets that fall. It is a black water that falls here, but none will touch Dallid. The ever-present tree acts as a perfect barrier, absorbing every drop that threatens to touch the newcommer to this strange place. Legion is standing before him, the Valkin'Vi's back to Dallid. :~

~: The wounds that Dallid has mended on Legion's body are visible on this mental representation, save that where the true damage is healing at a decent clip the gashes carried by this figment have only barely just begun to seal. Even here though he clutches that sword, that grim thing that his body still clings to...and here it is most obvious that there is a deep connection between Legion and the blade. :~

~: For now this entity remains turned away from Dallid, staring up into the green canopy of the tree above. The voice though comes freely, without the requirement of questioning. :~

"..Thank you.."

[Dallid]

Dallid sits up from Legion, severing the mind link and blinking his eyes.

"A strong mind is there - one that has perhaps crafted its own small plane of existence. But a mind we are familiar with, nonetheless. I believe it is safe for conversation to occur by more mundane means – especially with the sword out of his grasp. Thank you, Serith. Though I fear the only way to ensure the sword is never again held is to destroy it. Finding a means to do so must be a priority. It does still have a hold on Legion here.”

Dallid awakens Legion before continuing to heal him.

“The crisis appears to be passed for now. Can you tell us what happened?”

[Smitty19]

*Serith looks to Dallid

"If you need me to also try to get in past his mental defenses let me know."

*Looks down upon the runined form of Danimoth and the Entity that was known as Legion as the same thing and simply shakes his head in sadness

[Nick]

~: Legion awakens with such a start he might completely bowl over Dallid. So frantic is he as the eye of flame red and ice blue open that he seems possessed of a ridiculous strength! A single goal drives him as he scrabbles about, letting out another inhuman shriek as there is a splattering sound. Legion pitches forward in his quest, and now on his back Serith, Dallid and Gabrial see a fresh wound open as though he's been slashed by an invisible assailant! :~

~: His voice is a stressed roar now, once again mingled with the pain brought on by his attacker's assault. Another cut across his right shoulder, left thigh. They're coming quicker now, shallow but still shedding the blood Dallid has been magically restoring. :~

"WHERE IS IT?! GIVE IT BACK TO ME!! AaAAaRGH!! I NEED IT TO STOP HIM!!!"

~: He sights the blade, the accursed thing that Serith knocked from his grasp. Legion scrabbles towards it, fighting off the fatigue of the previous violence and shouldering the new as one long gash goes from left shoulder across his chest almost to his right hip. This certainly puts a new shine on the phrase "Paint the town red" as he leaves a nice trail in his quest for the sword. :~

[Smitty19]

*A small snarl crosses Serith's lips as Legion heads towards him and the cursed blade

"Im sorry friend, but you need to heal your mind"

*Serith gathers forth a large amount of energy and essence that hits Legion with the force of a great wave that knocks into him slowing his breathing, trying to take hold and slip him into a magical induced slumber (Magic Sleep)

[Nick]

~: As Legion is so focused on getting back to that sword he can in no way defend himself, and Serith's will to render the Valkin'Vi unconscious does the trick. He just slumps to the floor, one hand reaching out for the hilt of the blade but falling so short, and bleeds anew on the already-reddened floor. :~

~: If this was some sort of reprieve however from our invisible assailant it seems to have no effect whatsoever. The cuts just keep appearing, save that their frequency decreases somewhat. He makes absolutely no sounds in this state, no grunts or groans from whatever suffering it is he's enduring. He lies perfectly still on the ground, the only sign that he's still alive being his labored breathing as he remains where he is. :~

[Smitty19]

*Scrambling quickly to his fallen friends side Serith yells out for Dallid

"I dont know what is doing this to him, but if it is something internal we have to save him."

"My next Idea is to blanket the area in a wash of Essence energy to hopefully destroy any type of specter or...."

Pauseing quickly Serith hastily begins summoning forth energy to sever ties of any other realmly entities (Banish)