The Eye of Terror: The Labyrinthine Depths of Chaos (Part II)

[Daccio]

Sepher roars loudly seeing the arm torn free of the sorcerer but growls deeply as it vanishes, seemingly prepare a final attack.

Glancing about, the deamon notices the angel barreling towards the sorcerer in an attempt to either end it or blunt the final spell. Sepher decided that he would aid in this cause. Throwing up a strong flow of time around himself, he affected it so actions moved slowly in relation to himself. Hurling himself in an arc around the sorcerer, sepher's feet plant in the ground.

He throws himself at the sorcerer from behind, in an effort to catch the being before the spell went off, and to throw him with more force into Jharm's attack.

[Shadow Chorus]

Gulgrim skids across the battlefield, his hulking form grinding to a halt after a short flight. Glancing up, he saw the Sorcerer Lord preparing a lightning attack. Gulgrim stomped to his feet, his tumultuous uprising sending dust flying, obscuring his form as lightning shot into the cloud. There was the sound of a screaming Ork and the frying of flesh from inside, and a large body hitting the dirt. Roasted Ork wafted through the air.

But when the dust cleared, it was the body of a Nob, not the Warboss himself, that lay dead on the ground. The Warboss must have teleported inside the dust cloud. But where was he now?

On the wall was the answer. The Warboss was flattened against the wall behind and above the Chaos Sorcerer, invisible to the naked eye. His WAAAGH! Field silencing his noise and camouflaging himself to the wall behind him. So long as he didn't make any obvious movements, the Warboss hoped to elude detection by the Sorcerer Lord, even by his own Allies. If the Warboss was right, they would take the body of the Nob at a distance to be his own, his psychic field creating a minor perception filter to disguise the dead nob as being much larger than it was, roughly his own ponderous size. If they thought the Warboss dead, he could prepare for a proper Assassination, the Brutal Kunning of his mind working a plan over in his head as he observed the action below. This of course relied on the Sorcerer either not getting too close to the corpse or not looking too hard at it, as either a concentrated observation or proximity would pierce through the illusion.

His toothy visage broke into a grin, even as he watched his own Boyz die under warp lightning. The Sorcerer Lord wouldn't see his own death until his Orky blade was in his chest.

[Danyael]

The suppressive fire from the Rubric marines didn't go unnoticed. Not entirely. They vanished into the ground. Only a paltry few, who were in the midst of mid-translocation, had been reduced to ashen essence by the marines' incoming fire.

Danyael prepared to engage the marines head on, only to halt stock still, interrupted by an unseen force that whispered unnerving nothings throughout his mind. The whispers, now portents, slithered through his thoughts. He looked to his companions, his beloved Mary ever the firebrand, though still under incredible duress in the face of combat. He looked to the demon warrior, Sepher, whose power continued to press defiantly against directly against the sorcerer. Jharm, raining down holy might to smite the infernal  drones of their enemy and ultimately the sorcerer himself.

But still, Danyael stood quiet as the whispers came to two clear words: “Not now.”

He watched as the sorcerer recovered and gained ground, this time in the air. And it was at this moment that he allowed his own change to begin. He knelt low, all sound muting around him as his senses literally went cold. His body quivers as the shades that fell into the earth began to recollect back into him. With each entry, his body shuttered until it quaked uncontrollably and the faint hint of hissing laughter cut through the air.

As he looks up, the once perfect form of his face suddenly begin to whither away, mutating the entire right side into a husk of what it used to be. Animalistic fangs reach out from behind his lips and what was left of the flesh of his cheeks, preceded by a guttural, empty heave of what some might have perceived as disparity. His hollow right eye looked to the sky, where the energies began to diverge in rivulets of unseen ether. His open mouth, without moving, emitted low tone before growing into a chorus of guttural snarls, croaks and bellows before snapping shut into silence. Half his body was a decayed rotten mess while the other half just as uniquely beautiful as it was before. He was both vibrantly alive and sickeningly dead at the same time. Literally. His body, throughout the entire battle, had been absorbing the energies around him, feeding it until it had now reached the prime state of the unique circumstances of this battle. All that was left was to wait for the time to show itself.

And then came the awaited moment as the darkness in his sight was pierced by pristine, divine light in the form of an angelic blade. More than that; Jharm's blade.

Danyael appeared to crumple to the ground before suddenly vanishing in speed far faster than previously demonstrated, followed by a flowing row of blackened afterimages that trailed in his wake. In and out of relative sight did he disappear and reappear, building up speed with each resurgence until he put himself in coasting motion between Jharm's blade and the Seraphim.

Launching his fist forward in a full ahead thrust against the sword, adding his force to its own, all amplified to such uncertain extent that the very air roared in defiance as Danyael tore through the sky with relentless ferocity. The space between the sorcerer and the nephilim lord closed in blinks of time. And with the Seraphim's own divine might wading through the storm, perhaps they would fell the enemy once and for all.

[Archdemon Stu]

Jorumn sees the energy returning to the sorcerer, but it is too late for him to even warn his newfound teammates before the blast hits.  Just as quickly, an ominous pink lightning lights up the area.  The lightning is powerful and swift - too swift for Jorumn to develop a countermeasure, and forcing him to maintain his focus as a conduit of magical power for longer than intended.  Quickly, he raises a third puppet - a being of stone and the scraps of chaos marine armor - to disperse the magical energy evenly among them.  Though the third does not have time to act as it rises, the body of flesh is already in the midst of casting.

As the battle closes in on a single point of focus, Jorumn decides against a direct attack.  He is not yet well-versed with his allies' tactics, and would likely end up doing more harm than good.  Instead, he focuses a frost spell on the specific joints in the sorcerer's armor, seeking to disable him for a finishing attack by Cameron, Kitharsis, and Gulgrim to do what they do best.

Unlike his previous spell, the air does not show any signs of cold.  In fact, it becomes hotter as the cold air in the environment is drawn in toward the sorcerer's armor with such intensity that a gust can be felt by those nearby, and condenses...

[Kitharsis]

The grip of his tendrils snaps as the explosion of dark energy throws Kitharsis into the air.  The tendrils trail behind him with broken and shattered ends.  He lands in a roll and regains his footing quickly.

As he stands a wave of pink lightning streaks through the battlefield.  Pouring forth through the overcharged Chaos Sorcerer's fingertips.  Kitharsis acts quickly, swiping his right arm through the air.  This causes the remaining tendrils to snap backwards like a whip.  They wrap around him, deflecting the majority of the blast of lightning.

His skin smolders in the areas where the tendrils did not entirely block the lightning.  Kitharsis winces as he shakes out his arm.  It crackles as chips of his stony skin crumple to the ground.

The remaining tendrils attached to his left arm blink out like someone has turned out the light switch.  His teeth are clenched in anger as he stares down the Chaos Sorcerer. 

The runes for speed and strength on his shoulders burst into life.  They glow intensely as he pumps a great deal of his Tirthandaran energy through them.  His metal boot digs into the ground beneath him as he pushes off.  In a blur, he takes a direct path to the Chaos Sorcerer with his horseman's pick raised in both hands.

With a roar for effort, he slams down his hammer on the Chaos Sorcerer.  But his assault does not stop with a single blow.  He swings for the fences as blow after blow rains down from the enraged Tirthandara.  He is but a blur of grey and red as he carries out his merciless assault.

[Fei]

Fei is more than a little disappointed at the lack of effect that his attack has had against the marines.  A furious scream rages from the tree tops.  "God Damn it! Son of a bitch! I'm sick and tired of this shit! If I don't get something to eat right now, I'm going to murder and eat every single one of you!"

By this time, as Fei recovers from the gaping hole in his throat from his attack, the rubic marines have been absorbed by the Chaos Sorceror. 

"Wait, he can eat them but I can't.  That it.  Now I'm REAAAAALLY Pissed." 

As the Sorceror unleashed his torrent of 80's colored lightning upon the companions, a wild arc comes crackling towards the treeline towards the vampire.  As the tree is set ablaze from the attack, following an essence fueled explosion, Fei is nowhere to be found in the tree.

Reappearing in the dust left by Gulgrim, the shadows converge into Fei's being near the fallen Nob which appears to be Gulgrim, other boyz littering the ground around him in the sorceror's attack. His eyes glow red piercing the dust, a blackened smile spanning his mouth.   "You'll do."

An aura surrounded the Nob, though. An enchantment, of some form. It takes but a fraction of a moment to discern that the Nob is under 'kleverly dis-guyz-ez' to trick the Sorceror into believing he had slain Gulgrim.

"Well fine, I'll leave this one be, the rest will have to do." Fei thinks to himself, raising up his arms.

A violent wind picks up, centered around Fei as he does So, and the bodies of the boyz bounce and slide towards him, their tumbles growing in height as they approach him.  By the time they reach Fei, they're all suspended in air.

In but a split second, the gust of wind spins the bodies of the fallen Orkz and they are thoroughly blended into a red, misty paste, their bones being spat out by the violent winds in all directions. The whirlwind of gore funnels into Fei's being, saturating him as he absorbs their fleshy parts, their cleanly picked bones clattering to the ground around him.

Just as quickly as it began, it ended; the last of the ichor twisting into Fei's palms. A look of disgust crosses his face.  "Ugh! What the hell?! That didn't taste like blood at all! What the hell are these green skins made of? It tasted like... rotting tomatoes and garlic...ew."

Fei quivers in disgust for a moment before regaining his composure. "Ahem, regardless, they've served...ick... their purpose." The ground around the vampire darkens and streaks of black lightning errupt from his feet, crackling outward 20 paces, splitting the warped ground, any vegetation near it, dissolving and withering away.

Kneeling down, Fei plunges his arms into the shadows and a struggle rages upon his body. From the deepening shadows, Chains and blades fly forth and sink deep into the Vampire's body.  Pale arms cling to the chains and pull with all their might to pull Fei into the shadow with them. "Not this time... I am your master!" 

Twisting from the oblivion, the howls of the unmade scream as Fei pulls back, the chains dislodging from his body and wrapping around his wrists.  He grabs the chains of blackened shadows and they reshape into handles. As Fei lifts the handles from the shadow beneath him, the abyss twists and forms into a pair of elegantly curved blades, made of a black crystal. Souls of the damned flicker and reappear and beating against the surface of their mirror sheen, trying to escape, trapped within.

"No more fucking around." Fei grins before making a broad swing with both blades, the edge, carving a hole into the reality and feasting upon it, sending forth a shockwave of abyssal energy which screams and hurls towards the Sorceror to tear it apart and cast it's essence into oblivion.

[Cameron]

The sonic shockwave unleashed by Soul Reaver and Blooddrinker is enough to throw Peterson's trajectory off. He is visibly impressed. Soul Reaver is a much more challenging opponent than either of the other two people he's fought today. But before he has a chance to say so, Soul Reaver is upon him, thrusting Blooddrinker into his midsection.

Soul Reaver sees the sword seem to strike home, but Peterson sudden;y vanishes, leaving a ghostly after-image in his place. For a moment, Soul Reaver finds himself alone in the chamber. But a massive power surge behind him quickly betrays Peterson's presence. And sudden;y Peterson is falling from the rafters of the warehouse towards his target.

And ina bright flash of green magic, he is joined by 10 copies of himself. The 10 identical looking enemies descend on Soul Reaver from different angles, with 10 chaos blades seeking to pierce his armor. And the whole while, a chilling laugh can be heard echoing through the chamber, along with distant familiar voices screaming in terror.

The voices of Soul Reaver's companions, dying.

[Cameron]

The Chaos Lord has gathered as much power as he can. He throws his arms forward, ready to release his final spell. But seconds before it is unleashed. the holy blade thrown by Jharm and driven further and faster than normally possible by Danyael smashes straight through the sorcerer's armor. The sorcerer screeches in pain and horror as holy flames begin to consume him from the inside, and he only barely registers the impact of Sepher smashing into him from behind. Unable to control his momentum, he is sent lurching forward just as the seraphim and  nephilim smash into him. Any remaining power is forced out of the sorcerer by the force of this impact, and the holy flames of the thrown sword consume his flesh from the inside. A hollow husk of metal with a charred corpse inside is all that remains as it smashes into the ground.

Within seconds, the scene around the companions changes. The castle and bridge and river are gone. In it's place is a huge, empty, dimly lit warehouse. The companions find themselves on a catwalk roughly the same size as the bridge they thought they were on. Part of it is destroyed.

Mary had watched all this happen right in front of her, so fast that she almost couldn't follow it. She had been prepared to attack as well, but obviously the companions had everything well in hand. Cameron sure knew how to pick a strike team.

Mary's wings fold up behind her and disappear as her eyes return to their normal violet color. Her shield vanishes, but she hangs on to Morthoseth for a moment, unable to force herself to put the blade away just yet. She walks towards the companions, looking around for Garr and Kalana.

"Are you lot okay? Have any of you seen Kalana or Garr? I don't sense either of them."

[Cameron]

Cameron falls backwards and tumbles end over end as he hits the ground. He pulls himself up just as the lightning attack goes off. With no time to prepare a proper defense, he throws up a hand. A weak shield appears in front of him, but it won't be enough.

But just as the lightning hits, the shield triples in strength as Karyl and Kari appear on either side of their fallen friend. The lightning crackles over the shield as the three elementals pour energy into it. Some of the tendrils of lightning make it over and scorch their targets, but not enough to do any lasting damage. As the attack dissipates, the three elementals let the shield drop. Cameron returns to his feet as they try to catch their breath.

The Sorcerer Lord cackles wildly as his lightning decimates the field, but he quickly realizes that the attack only served to wipe out most of the fodder that was attacking him. It looks like he managed to kill all the orks, including the big warboss, but his other primary targets are still standing. This infuriates him to no end, and he prepares to attack again. But suddenly he finds it hard to move. His armor is freezing. Alarmed, he prepares a spell to counter this. The spell fizzles as the angry mowhawked warrior falls on him.

The Sorcerer is caught off guard and is unable to muster any affective defense for a while. Blow after blow land, denting and shattering the power armor of the agent of Chaos. Finally, he roars in pain and throws himself backwards and clear of the blur of stone and steel that is assaulting him...

And right INTO a wave of dark energy hurled by the vampire. This catches him on his blind side and he can do nothing to defend against it. The abyssal energy crashes into him and through him, cutting him nearly in half. The crippled sorcerer crumbles to the ground, foul blood spewing in every direction. Any chance he had of surviving this combat is now gone.

And yet, he struggles upright again. He only has one good arm, but it's the hand with the eye, and he extends it towards the companions. He pours every last ounce of Chaos power into one last final attack to take  as many of these fools with him as he can before he perishes.

And as he maneuvers into position, he turns his undefended back directly at Gulgrim's hidden position...

[Daccio]

Sepher slams into the sorcerer as the blade connects with the beast, roaring loudly as the thrill of battle rages on

Blink

Suddenly, the castle and bridge were an old warehouse. The large daemon digs its claws into the catwalk to stop its momentum, spreading its wings out the best it can. Screeching to a halt, the daemon turns towards the companions, eyes piercing.

"Give it up Sepher." a voice whispered inside his head "You've been fighting a long time. Well over 100 years. Your family is gone, everyone you ever loved is gone. Don't you deserve rest to?

Sepher was caught off guard, it had been a long time since one of the souls had chosen to spoke with him. It spoke the truth as well, so long had he fought. He WAS tired. He was getting old. He DID deserve a rest as well. He could feel himself relaxing.

"Yes, that's it. Just relax.... You'll be with the rest of your people soon enough..."

His people. No, they would not want this. This was something more than just Sepher. This chaos wasn't contained then it would do just as they did to his world. Nothing left but a desolate world. No.... His resolve hardened and the daemon soul surged against his, trying to take control.

Sepher, in daemon form let out another roar, this one more primal than before. A contest of wills. Slowly he squeezed the soul of the daemon down, forcing it back to its prison. As it went, it became easier and finally, it was once more locked away. Light grew around sepher and suddeny flashed out in blinding rays. As it subsided, sepher in his human form knelt on the catwalk, fists clenched against the ground.

Slowly he stood and turned his gaze to the others.

"I am okay" He said in response to mary, resolve sounding in his voice. "Though I have not seen the others."

He held his hand out to his side, were there was a rip in his armor from were he had been hit. The metal slowly mended itself, finally forming back into the prestine scalemail it was.

[Shadow Chorus]

Gulgrim watched the battle with interest, observing as the Chaos sorcerer was battered around by the other gitz he was working with. They were doing a good job, he had to admit. The vampire even made use of his dead boyz. If he ate all of 'em 'e must be a little green on the inside. That's good. But now the Chaos Sorcerer was open, his body freezing and his back exposed. Now was the time for Gulgrim to strike. He placed his shoota on his hip and held his Kaptin's Kutlass in both hands, his face split into a toothy grin.

"WAAAAAAGH!"  Gulgrim roared as he springboarded from the wall, his camouflage vanishing in an instant, revealing him in all his Orky splendor as he cleared the distance between himself and the sorcerer lord in one massive leap. Wielding his Kutlass in two hands, he comes down with the force of his massive frame with an overhead chop straight down, aimed at the exposed Sorcerer Lord's head.

"I have da power of Gork, AND Mork! Don't underestimate me!" he shouted as he brought the sword down.

[Veldanya Venalla]

Jharm floats to the ground next to the dessicated remains of the sorceror, reaching down and grasping the glowing sword of Light and pulling it from the corpse, glancing at the blade as if inspecting it for any filth left on it from the fallen Chaos.  Suddenly a roar erupts near him.  Glowing white eyes gaze upon the demonic form of Sepher as he appears to have some sort of mental battle, likely with one of the demons contained within him.  The Seraphim's grip on his hammer and blade tighten, ready if the battle should turn badly.  With a flash of light Sepher changes back to his human form.  It would seem he succeeded in the battle of wills this time.  Jharm loosens his hold on his weapons and the sword dissipates into the air.

(Mary) "Are you lot okay? Have any of you seen Kalana or Garr? I don't sense either of them."

"Last i saw Garr was attempting to return back across the bridge with Lady Kalana, I lost track of them during the battle though."

[Soul Reaver]

Blooddrinker slides into Peterson's body up to the hilt, but somehow the blade feels no satisfaction at the blow.  There is no resistance, no hot blood to drench the blade.  Instead, his body simply seems phases into nothingness.

Rage still written on his features, Soul Reaver takes a quick backstep, his sword pulled back, ready to parry or strike as needed.  For a moment, he seems to be alone.  Then a hideous laugh reverbarates around the room, its echoes dissolving into what sound like the distant, terrified screams of familiar voices.  His companions were dying while he dallied here with this pathetic failure of a marine!

At that moment and power surge directly above draws Soul Reaver's attention.  Just in time, Soul Reaver turns upward and sees Peterson, enveloped in a burst of emerald chaos sorcery.  But plunging from the rapidly disspiating cloud of energy are not one, but ten Petersons - each identical and all intent on murder.

They could not all be real, but he did not have the luxury to establish which one might be the 'real' one.  There just was not enough time!

A surge of burning magic flows through his veins, pulsing hot up his arms and into the red blade in his hands.  The sword, in turn, seems to feed energy back into Soul Reaver, allowing him to summon this magic and bypass its usual gestures and ritual.  A spitting field of red power sheathes over the sword as Soul Reaver reverses it downwards, and then plunges it hard into the ground.

Just as the Petersons are about to reach striking distance, the sorcery unleashes a spherical Shockwave spell.  Normally a wave of pure white energy with a blue trail, borne of carefully woven mana, this casting instead seems raw and untamed, replacing finesse with sheer power.  Its colour is a tainted dark red, and its surface crackles with arcs of sinister lighting.

Yet in spite of its hurried casting, the burst of destructive force seems all the more powerful for it as it blasts out around Soul Reaver.  As the shockwave roars past, pockets of air ignite into motes of flame, and the ground it passes over cracks and is torn up from its foundations - chunks of ruined concrete and half-melted rebar hurtle outward in all directions in the wake of the spell's passage.

[Danyael]

Danyel's boots slammed to the ground with a metallic clang, the floor around him, dented in and shattered as it was, began to shift and twist into yet another location entirely. The menace was gone, only to have the stage change once again. This was getting tiresome. Very tiresome. Where would they go next after the next challenge? A flower garden with a tea table and a rabbit who was never on time? Maybe a disproportionate mushroom forest where a Caterpillar smokes hookah? Maybe a floating, porcine British Shorthair with an eerily amusing smile that glows in the dark? The madness of this labyrinth seemed inexhaustibly irksome.

Then, more pressing matters came to mind. He saw Mary, breathing a mental sigh of relief, then saw his companions Jharm and Sepher. He looked around. The child. Where is the child? The gray one. Where is he? eyes and senses darting about in every possible angle. But he could find no trace. A waft of will brought his flowing jacket and everworld cloak back into being. He lifted his hood over his head and took stock of his allies. He nodded to Jharm and Sepher in thanks for the team effort in felling the sorcerer, then was suddenly at Mary's side. This place felt off. They needed to go. “Best we be on our way. Find the answers ourselves.” his voice was calm and cold. But he knew Mary knew he was feeling anything but. He spent time enough in the warp to transform him into the abomination he was now. And now that he was deeper in the realm of Chaos, he had every reason to be fearful of every step. Truth be told, he was terrified. And he knew she knew it.

They needed to find their companions and the elementals. They needed to find Soul and Cameron. They needed to end this living nightmare, or at the very least get to the bottom of it to attain some sense of fucking closure and make sense of this insanity. What happened to the others? How did they get separated? Are they even alive? He shook the thoughts from his mind, feeling the muscles tighten and then loosen. A soft hand went to Mary's shoulder and he nodded in a possible direction to go.

[Cameron]

Somewhere deep inside the mindless, buzzing, animal thing that the sorceror's mind has become knows the attack from behind is coming. But it's far too late to do anything about it. All of the sorceror's remaining focus is forward. Trying to get this one last spell off before-

But even that effort proves to be too little, too late. Gulgrim's Kutlass carves through the sorceror like butter. The sorceror's spell falters and dies as the orkish blade rips through it's skull, ending it's life as it rends it's brain in two. The blade continues it's progress through the rest of the corpse, and the sorceror splits neatly in half as Gulgrim lands. Black, foul smelling blood sprays everywhere as the two halves slump to the ground.

And in that instant, the jungle is gone. The sunrise is gone, replaced by a huge floodlight shining down on the companions from above. They find themselves standing on the floor of what appears to be a massive empty warehouse. Catwalks run back and forth in various directions above their heads. The large floodlight appears to be the only real source of light nearby.

Cameron, Karyl, and Kari approach the other companions and the corpse of the sorceror. Cameron surveys his surroundings.

"Seems like we're clear for now, but that's probably not the last of the tricks this place has for us. Is everyone alright?"

[Cameron]

Mary nods at Sepher, but quickly turns to look across the bridge where Jharm indicates Garr was last seen. She squints, but the light is too dim to make anything out. Suddenly, Danyael is beside her, speaking. His words, as usual, ring true. She can sense that he is not as calm as he sounds, and Mary glances in his direction. She almost says something to try and reassure him, but thinks better of it. Now is hardly the time for talk. She does reach up and place her hand over his when she feels it on her shoulder.

Mary is about to speak when a noise behind her catches her attention. She turns swiftly as Garr appears from within a swirl of shadows and smoke. He has kalana over his shoulder, supporting her with one arm while the other still clutches the elemental blade Molotoch. It takes obvious effort for him to slide the blade back into it's sheath, but he does so. Mary feels the pull of her own blade lessen, and she is able to sheath Morthoseth as well. Garr lays the unconsious psyker gently down in front of him.

"She's alive, but her energy is drained. She could use some healing, if anyone can spare it."

[Cameron]

The shockwave unleashed by Soul Reaver is enough to rock the already crumbling building to it's very foundation. Large chunks of debris fall from the celing only to be swept up by Soul Reaver's magic and cast aside, The Petersons, in full offensive mode, have no chance to defend and are hit by the full desctructive force of the spell. 9 of them are ripped apart, revealed in their passing as the inferior copies that they were. The real Peterson is thrown back violently, crashing through the back wall of the warehouse. It collapses on top of him. For a moment, there is silence.

But the silence doesn't last. A horrible, distorted, sickening sound soon drifts from the pile of wreckage. Peterson is laughing.

"Bravo, good sir. bravo. A fine piece of work. VERY impressive."

Fallen concrete and metal shifts aside as Peterson returns to his feet. His robotic form shows no damage from the attack. It is hard to determine if it had any lasting affect on him at all. The human half of his face twists in a nasty smirk, pulling the stitches used to keep it closed taught.

"This has been a LOT of fun! Very challenging. Very rewarding. But I'm afraid our time is up. You see, your companions are just about dead, and I'd absolutely hate to miss the show."

Peterson moves as if he is going to turn and leave, but he pauses before turning back to face Soul Reaver.

"Hmm. Seeing a show is always fun with more people! Three's company, after all. How about if you join us? You can witness your friends all simultaneously draw their final breaths in a crescendo worthy of the finest shymphony! I've heard the sound is... to die for."

Peterson extends a skeletal hand towards Soul Reaver.

"Shall we?"

[Veldanya Venalla]

The Seraphim watches silently as the Nephilim appears next to Mary and speaks to her.  A swirl of shadows suddenly appears behind the woman causing her to turn around to see Garr step out holding an unconscious Kalana.  He sheathes his elemental blade and gently lays the woman on the ground before speaking.

"She's alive, but her energy is drained. She could use some healing, if anyone can spare it."

Setting his hammer down onto the ground, Jharm moves forward towards the psyker.

"The Light shall see her restored."

The massive frame of the angel stands over the prone figure for a second before he kneels down next to her.  His right hand hovers over Kalana as faint words begin to flow from his lips.  His plated hand begins to softly glow white, the intensity increasing every second but then the light seems to flow from the Seraphim down through the air and over Kalana until she is illuminated by a soft white glow.  A moment later Jharm falls silent as he clenches his hand shut and the light fades away.

"It is done.  She should be almost as good as new now."

Standing back up, the Seraphim returns to where he dropped his hammer, lifting the weapon into the air once more and resting it on his shoulder as he waits to see what direction they decide to head from here.

[Cameron]

As Jharm steps away, Kalana begins to stir. She slowly brings herself to a sitting position and looks around.

"Ugh... someone tell me we killed that guy."

A reply comes from Garr.

"Yes, the sorcerer is dead, and his illusions have faded."

Kalana sighs and shakes her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. She does not immedeately attempt to stand.

"Good. But we're not safe yet. We need to find the others."

Mary has been staring off into the distance since she and Garr put their swords away. She gestures to an area in the far distance where the light seems to be brighter.

"I feel the other elemental blades. I think they're that way."

[Shadow Chorus]

Gulgrim stood triumphant over the corpse of the Sorcerer and let out a Victory "WAAAGH!",  raising his kutlass to the sky like a victorious general before returning to the matter at hand. That being, looting the corpse. He couldn't make much use out of the Spikey boyz' tech, them being so small and all, but some helmets and 'eadz for his trophy rack wouldn't go amiss. He picked up the two halves of the sorcerer and looked at them.

"Blast it, dis spikey git couldn't even dive outta da way a bit so'z I didn't cut 'iz 'ead apart. Oh well, two 'alfs fer two poles, I 'spose."

Brutally tearing the two halves of the sorcerer's head from his bifurcated shoulders, the boss fixed them to his trophy rack with surprising ease, considering the flexibility demanded to put skulls on a rack mounted to one's shoulders.

"Dat's roight! I'z da biggest so I'z da boss!" The warboss shouted to no-one in particular. Then he actually came back to reality and noted that Cameron had asked a question.

"Yeah, 'umie, i'z gud. Takes more den a few scrapes an' some zaps ta 'urt me." he said, pounding his chest with his massive green hand.

"So, which way'z out? I'z wants some more suitable trophies, an' scept fer da spiky boss git, dese boyz ain't nuffin' but armor, no good skullz fer me rack!"