Controlling The Heavens[Zubaidah]

The ancient structure did have inscriptions here and there at the entrances to the many rooms. But it was not in torran or any other ancient language. It was the common tongue spoken across the globe in modern times! Though an admittedly old style and dialect. Alas, there was no records or historical information to be found. Instead, there was only cold numbers to identify each room.

The gloomy atmosphere was pierced yet again by the Anguished one's screams. Kunla was no braver for Zubaidah's words in the face of the terrible beast. "Are you mad!? Do you even know what that thing is? It looks like a creature of nightmares!" He was shocked and appalled at how she and her companions could remain so calm. Were all dungeon explorers crazy like this? Kunla could not imagine what sort of things this group had seen before. He only knew them to be fools. Fate had clearly placed this obstacle here to bar them from any riches. He recoiled back up the steps a level but stopped and turned to watch them as they stepped down to the bottom level.

No response would come from the strange creature when the magician set her gaze upon it. But once Zubaidah spoke it turned its head and a wave of malice exploded from its eyes nearly blinding the woman with ill intentions. There would only be a short breath of time for her to give warning before the Anguished Remnant made a Primal Pounce towards them. The maw of the creature opened up to unleash an Explosive Roar at the one who had been staring at it so intently, as if to demand she not look at it in rage.

As the monster landed just in front of Zubaidah it stood 3m tall and had long lanky limbs which it bared upon her in a Swipe Storm intended to tear her up into ribbons. It was a creature unwilling to share words or find compromises. Every movement dripped with killing intent and pain as black rukh seemed to pour out from the  fur of the creature forming a Miasma of Anguish in the area 5m around it.

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Notes:

The flood of black rukh expanding from the monster's body was like a black wave rolling over the arena. None of the combatants had thought to be on guard. After all, it was just a bit of black rukh...right? Zubaidah would be the first to know the arrogance of her ways. Her defense was stalwart, her musk spreading out to cause delirium. Her spear swatted aside the beasts claws and then expertly transitioned into a thrust. But each action would be accompanied by a whisper of doubt from the black birds swarming in the Miasma of Anguish, "Will your musk even work on this species? But what if your weapon breaks? Do you even know where its vitals are?" The black rukh was alive and it had a spiteful spirit as its words mocked her every thought, every choice, every act. Was this something the Remnant suffered as well?

The creature did not give time to ponder. Though its first pair of claws were batted away by the spear, the frenzied Swipe Storm still had 6 more swipes. The thrust at its chest bore no fear in the Remnant as its hollow black eyes glared at Zubaidah and its mouth let out a bone-chilling screech. The musk had indeed done its work, but the Anguished Remnant's strikes were never measured and precise in the first place. Even through the disorientation it still wailed its sharps claws around in font of it even as her spear drove itself between the thick fur and into its flesh. Even through the haze of the miasma was thick, the spearwoman would be able to see the claw swipes of the beast closing in. But she was already mid thrust at least two of the swipes would already be upon her. One ripping down towards her right shoulder and the other clawing up across her left thigh.


The remaining four swipes would follow regardless of whether or not Zubaidah was still there to face them or if she would retreat. By the time they were done, it would have been surrounded. But the Remnant seemed not to care and only roared out as the Miasma of Anguish began to grow spreading out an additional 5m. Now a 10m aura of spiteful rukh swirled around the Remnant. Soon the others would begin to hear its whispers. Kunla watched this all and found himself involuntarily taking a step backwards. But once he realized he had, the young nomad trusted his instincts and turned to run back up the stairs. He ran with tears in his eyes, chased by a cloud of black rukh which fed off of his despair. But after going up a level, he found himself curious...he would stop and look down once again to see how his patron would die. Yes. Surely death is all that awaits her and her companions.

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Notes:

Anguished Vestige:

The Miasma of Anguish continued to billow outwards covering more area and engulfing all the combatants now. Whispers of darkness would invade all of their ears, though their leader who had been exposed first would bare the brunt of it. The voices now louder in her mind echoing with malice and venom. But the Vestige did not give immediate chase. Instead it seemed to be fixated on the blood at its claws and let out a heated shriek as its tongue lapped at the crimson substance. The beast shivered as attacks rained down upon it. The Shadow Talon and Enforce would batter its armored fur coat until it was broken sending the creature reeling back a couple steps as it hunched over. It's hardened skull would tank the Nebenhut Stance as the Vestige stared at Zubaidah with the black pits it had for eyes and for a moment she might glimpse the vague and disting dregs of what may have once been human in them.


An explosive roar would meet the spear wielding woman at point black range followed by another Storm of Swipes as the Vestige seemed eager to draw and drink more of her blood. It completely ignored her companions and focused all of its attention on Zubaidah, ready to execute a Primal Pounce again should she try to break away from its swipes. Kunla watched this all from above and was in disbelief. Even after such grave wounds and seeing the brutality of their monstrous opponent, how did they still have such will to fight? Wouldn't it make more sense to retreat? Kunla's urge to run was numbed by his brain and heart wrestling with one another in conflict. He simply could no understand what drove Zubaidah and her people.

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Notes:

Anguished Vestige:

The frenzied swings of the Vestige brought the beast pain is the cloak of flames seared its flesh, but a deeper anguish allowed it to continue to slash and rip with its claws even as flames began to catch on its tough fur running up its arms. But its flurry would be intercepted by the floating stakes intercepted the movements of its arms. The Anguished one snapped its jaws and turns its head to ravenously seek out Zubaidah's flesh. Black blood would spatter the ground as a spear pierced the beast's throat and sent it reeling back in pain.

Another anguished howl shook the chamber but the cry could not stop the attacks from shooting into its hide. The flames had spread further now, engulfing the beast as many nigh talons fired. The wild movements of its head made some of them miss or get blocked, but by the fifth talon its hard skull finally shattered. More blood, black as night, sprayed and another four talons flew before its screeching stopped. The Vestige fell forward and crumpled to the ground, its body dissolving into tiny black fragments that scattered into the air. The black rukh dispersing as well, the air in the chamber immediately became lighter and the voices of hate would cease for Zubaidah's companions. Not for her though. Ipos' curse would let here hear them continue to jeer and mock until the lingering last few black rukh were gone.

As the husk of the beast faded away, the form of a near mummified body could be seen clutching the source of the golden magic circle. It looked like it should be a corpse. They eyes were sunken in, the muscles shrunken and skin pulled tight against the bones. But the flesh was black and a sword was impaled through its torso. Soon it cracked around the sword as if the whole body were made of obsidian glass. More cracks. But for some reason it would feel like there was life in those deep sockets as it stared at Zubaidah. Only she, with the blessing of the rukh's hearing, would be able to pick up on the sound of a distant voice. A bitter old man's voice. The message, his curse.

"It was all for naught! My people were slain by the Parthevians...all our preparations for the great calamity mean nothing if I am the only one left to survive it! Is this what Solomon promises the faithful!?"

Even the sword turned to dust as the final bits faded away leaving only the magic artifact left behind to fall unceremoniously to the floor with a clang.


It currently looked somewhat unimpressive. A clear crystal ball fitting atop a metal base. But the magic circle betrayed its deeper value and the blizzard that had been raging outside was testament to its power. Kunla watched all this from above in silence. The beast was dead and there were even spoils of war left behind. But there were still a few more rooms left to look through as well.

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Notes:

Artifact Code:

Falling to his knees once the tension of the battle ended, Kunla was conflicted. The black rukh around him faltered as he began to second guess his train of thought. The hatred in his heart was still there, but now it was being directed more at himself than towards those who took Nayzk from him. How quickly he had abandoned his promise to Nayzk once he was faced with a daunting trial. How could he not? A promise of death blocked their path. But somehow his patron had cut a way through the darkness and had achieved the glory of victory. The glory Kunla had so arrogantly sought for himself not long ago despite having no power to grasp it. The young man laughed bitterly at himself as Zubaidah called and gestured for him to join them. He only shook his head and stood up slowly. Rather than join them, Kunla turned to head back up the stairs. In contrast to the fearful retreat he made prior, the nomad was dignified and deliberate as he ascended the steps. A slight smile tugging at his lips as the number of black birds clinging to him slowly diminished.

Down below, Zubaidah would find that there was not much left behind in the remaining rooms. A container tucked away in the corner of one would have something of value. Inside, a living sample of the glowing moss that lit up much of the structure. This moss was radiant and even more crystalline compared to the dead moss. If it could be cultivated, perhaps it would make for a welcome commodity. Other than that there was only more of the same empty rooms and long spoiled storage for food and water. One room stood out however. The contents were still ancient, but there were signs of someone having actually lived in this room. There was bedding with disturbed covers and a desk with an unfinished scroll lain out atop it. Inspection would reveal a strange written language which was vaguely familiar. It was a diary of sorts.

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Entry 1
At last, we have finished the sanctum. The brightmoss has taken well and we still have some left over in case there is damage. I pray the shaman's vision was wrong and it does not come to that.

Entry 2
I argued with the shaman again today. If now is not the time to use the sanctum then when? Our enemies have already taken our lands, yet still they hunt my people down into the desert. Why must i be the caretaker? I should be fighting alongside my brothers against those Parthevian dogs.

Entry 3
A clan almost reached the sanctum, I watched them die before they could make it. They might be the last. I hope to be wrong, but it has been weeks since the shaman last came to check on me. I can feel it somewhere inside that I am the last of the Icarians.

Entry 4
Food and water are abundant, but it is so cold to eat them alone. I find no satisfaction in it. In my boredom I have left the sanctum and witnessed the empire built atop my people's graves. The tribes of Icaria are truly gone once I die. But I can't let go of my duty, it was my final oath. I will guard here until my last breath.

Entry 5
I am old. Our old foe is in decline but I suspect they will face a fate similar to ours. Is this the way we are meant to live? In cycles of destruction? A man with a strange smile appeared before me today. Gave me a knife and said I could continue my mission if I embrace death. I don't know if I can trust him. It is so cold and lonely here, but its been so many years. I've known nothing else for too long. The cold has become comfortable, the loneliness a familiar pain. I just want this anguish to go one for eternity.

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Notes:

Kunla stood at the edge of the butte overlooking the desert when his patron arrived. His mood was calm, but the expression of conflict had not left his face. He listened to her words and considered her offer. Pained eyes turned back to look at Zubaidah and her battleworn companions. He then looked down the cliff face to the caravan where he knew the prisoners he still hated were waiting. The young nomad wasn't sure if he could keep his head level if he went down there and saw them again. The thought of traveling back to Tisifun was one he couldn't bare to entertain. After a moment of thought he shook his head and replied.

"I'm sorry, but no. I don't think I'll be returning with you. I'm going to stay here for a few days. When you're gone I'll descend and return home to my tribe. I've been running away from my responsibilities all this time. But you've shown me that I have to face the hardships that await me there despite how much it might hurt. Maybe one day, when I have atoned for my wrongs and become the kind of man I promised Nazyk I would be, I will return to Tisifun and take you up on your offer."

Kunla then turned to face the woman who had inspired him and gave her a deep bow of respect. Following the gesture he would rise and smile at them before turning to face the horizon. The sun was orange and the sky dusty hues of red. He stared at the hazy celestial body and then shifted his eyes upwards where twilight had taken over the rest of the sky. His eyes were drawn there just in time to witness a shooting star streak across the sky. "Nazyk..." Muttered the nomad as he closed his eyes and thought of his dear departed friend.

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Notes: