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Seriene Arvor

A devout novice battle priest of the Naaru and a once firm defender of Karabor.

0 · 523 views · located in Phyrexian Grassland

a character in “The Garden: An Arcadian Boneyard”, as played by Questionable Object

Description

[Personal Details]
Name: Seriene Arvor
Age: Fifty years of age, the equivalent of a young adult.
Place of Birth: Karabor, Shadowmoon Valley, Draenor.

Personality: Seriene is a kind, curious and gentle soul at heart, wiling and happy to help those in need. However she has been traumatized by the recent devastation of her people and the attack of the Orcs and demons that drove them. She still has a desire to do good but is rather jumpy and slightly mistrustful at times. Naturally she has a considerable fear and hatred of orcs now and because of her upbringing as well as the attack of the "Horde" that had been driven by demons she has a very deep distrust and even a hatred of demons and devils, being very very slow to trust either Orcs or Demons.
With the races she has not met, just about any and all who are not Draenei, Demon or Orc she is generally wary but curious about them, shy to approach but filled to the brim with questions should they befriend her.

Appearance: Seriene is a 2.1 meter tall Draenei with a slim healthy build, however lacking any real muscle mass. Her eyes are a soft bluish white and glow faintly, her skin's are a darker but still light blue, her lips a navy blue and behind them sharp fangs. She has an hourglass figure as is typical of Draenei females and a pair of backwards arching horns rest atop her head along with shoulder length black hair, small 'tendrils clinging to the point where her jaw and neck meet, the longest coming down to rest against the top of her chest, gold rings adorning the small appendages. Hanging from the base of her tail a short tail adorned with the same style of rings as her facial tendrils wrapped about her tail. Her legs are something akin to that of a hoofed animal, giving her a satyr or faunish look, her legs being somewhat crooked like a goats though free of fur and ending in bluish black cloven hooves.
Upon her forehead is a simplified tattoo of the form of a Naaru.

Seriene's battle robes are made of a mixture of cloth, leather and metal, the arms covered in nothing but cloth with a few tanned leather straps around the upper arms, light iron and bronze with three 'spires' jutting out of each rest on her shoulders, black feathers poking out from under them.
Her chest and upper back are covered by a mix of cloth and leather, providing minor protection and a and a plain brown hood with horn holes usually adorns her head.
The midsection of the robe is adorned with a corset and small skirt of metal plates, covering her midsection and upper legs, attached to the armor over her stomach a form of amulet of metal is attached.
When Seriene is engaged in battle or channeling powerful spells, she resonates her power with the armor, activating certain enchantments and creating a visual effect of an ethereal throned halo over her head and three "feathers" almost like rudimentary wings to appear attached to the spires of her shoulder plates.

Spoken Languages: Draenei and fragmented Orcish.


[Combat Section]
Note: Seriene is very physically weak and totally dependent on her magic and any allies she has to fight and defend her. She's very much in a support position whenever events come to blows as she's not any good at taking hits, her constitution not being the best a single powerful blow to the head would be more than enough to knock her out and she's very susceptible to disease and poisons when her magics fail her.
Whenever she's severely wounded in a way that causes her to be thoroughly bed ridden she's incapable of healing herself or anyone else making her a rather fragile asset to say the least.

Weapons: A staff more used for channelling holy energies than actual combat, along with her armor giving her greater focus and power behind her spells. She also has in her possession a book of holy power that she studies to draw new spells and powers from.

Powers:
"Draenei descent": Seriene has a racial resistance to dark magics, if only a slight one.
"Eyes of Pain": A very basic form of divination which allows Seriene to get a good estimate of the ways that those she is observing are wounded, aiding her in her healing.
"Divine Focus": Whilst casting a channeled spell Seriene is slowed in her spell casting less than one would expect when attacked.
"Divine Fury": Seriene's offensive projectile spells have a slight "tracking" to them, meaning they'll arc in the direction of the target even if they move. Though its only a slight arc so its not that much of a big deal. Just means you can't cheekily sidestep like a sod.

Base Spells: (Spells can be cast with a simple gesture and/or sound.)
"Smite": Launches a holy bolt of energy to harm her opponents.
"Inner Fire": Fills a target with holy energy hardening their body and mind whilst improving their strength.
"Psychic Scream": Seriene lets forth a terrible wail, disorienting or forcing those who fail to resist it to flee in fear. It being a psychic attack, covering ones ears tends not to work though Seriene does need to be able to make herself audible to cast the spell.
"Holy Fire": Wreathes and enemy in holy fire. Particularly effective against those of the demonic or undead disposition.
"Purity": Dispels harmful effects from the target, destroying curses and diseases if possible.
"Fade": Allows Seriene to seemingly fade from existence for a few seconds usually allowing her to put some distance between attackers or allow others to draw their attention away.
"Dispel Magic": Dispels some magical effects from an area at random.
"Void Tendrils": Seriene can call upon shadowy tendrils to trap and hold up to five enemies. The tendrils can be destroyed and have the same textile strength as muscle and skin.

Words of Power: (Must have a spoken word to be cast, damaging or restricting her throat or mouth will stop her from casting these.)
"Shadow Word: Pain": Inflicts susceptible targets with a searing pain either cold or hot upon their bodies.
"Power Word: Shield": Encases a target in a protective shield of holy energies, absorbing a certain amount of punishment before dissipating. So long as Seriene is wearing most of her armor shields she casts also reflect damage back at the attacker.
"Body and Soul": Anyone whom Seriene casts a "Power Word: Shield" on is imbued with considerable energy quickening their movement and reflex speeds. (This is a passive effect added to Power Word: Shield)
"Power Word: Fortitude": Infuses herself and those around her with holy vitality, increasing their fortitude.
"Holy Word: Chastise": Similar to Smite but has the side effect of usually knocking the target senseless. Seriene must wait a time before being able to cast this power again.

Healing Spells: (These spells have the same rules as the Base Spells but are all designed to heal and protect allies.)
"Flash Heal": A quick but inefficient healing spell that can be used in the heat of battle, repeated use of the spell can be dangerous for both the caster and the recipient.
"Resurrection": Whilst not being powerful enough to truly bring the dead back to life Seriene can bring people back from the brink of death, enough to mend their wounds enough for them to stand and talk.
"Renew": Imbues the target with extremely rapid regenerative abilities for a short time, casting this spell, whilst quick, is very taxing on Seriene.
"Heal": A powerful instant heal that can seal gashes and mend bones in the blink of an eye, casting this spell, whilst quick, is very taxing on Seriene.

Passive Protection: (If Seriene is having these used she's in a very bad state. Neither of these spells can be used offensively, E.I. No the Angel can't cast offensive spells, only heal others and maybe stabilize Seriene if she's ot of harms way.)
"Focus Will": Should Seriene be dealt a powerful blow she will be wreathed in a cushioning field of energy, decreasing the amount of damage her body takes from attacks.
"Spirit of Redemption": Should Seriene become severely wounded, incapacitated or even die, an ethereal blue angelic spirit will appear above her and channel her spells for her whilst protecting her from all forms of harm for a short duration before disappearing, at which point Seriene will either fall unconscious, go into a small coma or die depending on the circumstance that the Spirit is summoned.

Technology: With the right tools and materials Seriene is able to create magic powered "Pseudo-Technology" though really she can only make entertaining trinkets at best. Her understanding of electronics and mechanical technology is limited at best.
Skills: Seriene is a holy priest of the Naaru first and foremost empowering her with holy magics and healing powers though she does have a few offensive "Shadow Words" as she calls them as well as a keen eye for jewel-crafting and basic magic based engineering as well as some basic gem based enchantments.
Proficiency: Healing and holy magics.


[Back-story]
Parentage: Seriene never knew her parents but was raised by the priests of Karabor and to some extent one of the Naaru she worships who imparted many kind words of wisdom to her.

History prior to The Garden: Seriene was orphaned at a very young age, what exactly happened to her parents was a mystery and never truly unveiled, however the Priesthood of the Holy Light took her in without a thought when approached by the council about her, orphaned Draenei being a rarity in the days of Draenor, Seriene was a subject of considerable gossip in her younger years though the Priesthood and later on the Naaru, X'iri, sheltered her from the sometimes unkind gossip of the holy city. In time the you Draenei grew into a fine Holy Priest, becoming an idol to those younger than herself even at the age of twenty five. She spent her time in peaceful meditation, even concealing with the Prophet Velen at one point, tinkering with simple contraptions and becoming familiar with the art of jewelcrafting and gem enchants.
Of course this peaceful existence eventually came crashing down, not just for Seriene but for all Draenei.
The Orcs native to Draenor, without warning or provocation suddenly united under a singular Horde, fueled by an unmatchable bloodlust attacked the Draenei settlements in the Shadowmoon Valley, destroying village and town again and again, catching the entire peoples off guard.
Donning the robes of the battle priest with a mixed sense of honor, duty and fear Seriene joined her brethren, paladins and priests of the holy light in battle, fighting tooth and nail to hold back the horde but to no avail, eventually forcing the Draenei to flee upon the same devices that had brought them to Draenor, the interdimensional vessels of the Naaru. With some of the Naaru in tow the Draenei fled to the Exodar, the only one of the hidden ships they could reach, boarding the vessel and fleeing.
However to allow the majority of their people to escape many Draenei had to stay behind, fighting against a seemingly endless sea of green skinned monsters that they once new as Orcs, many of the brave Draenei souls being butchered brutally by the bloodthirsty horde.
Although many died upon the field of battle Seriene somehow survived, battered and bloodied yet not quite dead, picking herself up and staggering away from the blood-soaked fields of the Shadowmoon Valley, she staggered deliriously across the landscape, tripping and stumbling again and again but still trudging forward on almost broken hooves she came across a pillar of light, the ray of strange energy reminding her in her delirious state of the light of the Naaru. Mindlessly she trudged forward, hoping to be rescued from this hell she once called home, the fires of Karabor still burning in the distance she stumbled into the pillar and vanished.

So begins...

Seriene Arvor's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor
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As Ivan saw the monkey land on the dissease ridden rat and attack it with acid and blunt he grinned slightly. His odds had turned from awkwardly trying to keep the pest at bay to actually having a having a good chance of destroying it right then and there. He was mildly surprised when the pest formed gasses to divert the flames and simply rubbed the acid from it's face. He had expected the flames to have yielded only some superficial damage, but to see that even the acid hadn't affected the pestulant rat was a bit worrying. Not to mention that it was now gleefully mocking both him and the monkey and had raised an army from the insects that lived in and on it's fur.

"If fire fails, try drowning it's swarms with water. If that fails, the water will still serve me well." He heard from behind the mans mask. Truthfully it would have been a good idea to simply drown the bugs with a wave of water, however there really wasn't a way for him to create a significantly sized body of water quick enough. Though it seemed the man had a plan so he created a cloud of T-energy crystals and made it rain above them by cooling the moisture in the air and turning the crystals themselves into water. It was strong enough of a rain to make the bugs lose footing and be swept away by the falling dropletts, but unfortunatly as he expected not strong enough to drown the bugs. Hopefully it would be enough to make that rat slip on the slick mud as it was oh so gleefully jumping around. In the end he just hoped it would be enough for whatever the man was planning.

Ivan quckly formed a storm of crystal dust around him as he saw a group of the insects rush at him, freezing and shredding the insects that dared venture into it, before absorbing the insects and turning it into more crystal dust. The barrier would be ample defence against any sort of attack by that pests insect minnions. He then felt blessings from the mage from before reach him once more, he could feel the energy as it increased his resiliance and gave him another layer of shielding. Since he was more or less on the frontline against an enemy that could have more tricks up it's sleeve he figured it was safer to keep these blessings for the moment, instead of using them as more ammo.

Ivan stepped forwards drawing another group of bugs into the storm and shredding them for their energy. The energy within the bugs was boutifull, it wasn't hard to see at this point why it was so tempting to destroy and absorb humanoid being only to be turned into a lich as a result. Now he had enough energy stored to make another attacking move while keeping some energy to spare. A small stream of the dust moved out of the storm and forming another around the rat, cooling the air as they moved. As the storm raged around the rat, and the storm had grown so thick that the rat wasn't even visable anymore, quite quickly tiny white crystal began to form on the crystals and their surroundings, to anyone unassuming it would look like ice. It was ice, that was sure, but it was dry ice solidified carbondioxide. Ivan grinned in the knowledge that if the rat didn't escape it's heat draining prison soon the carbondioxide within the lungs as he tries to exhale will turn solid and the water in his blood and body cells will freeze all with very deadly results. "Stand back from that storm, otherwise it might freeze you too and a very cold rat might jump out at any moment." He said to the monkey as the storm raged.

From the corner of his eye he could see an object brimming with lightning fly at rediculous speeds. The energy from that bolt would serve him really well. Intercepting the object to gain it's power would be nearly impossible though, there was one option, use the plasma field of a decaying lightning bolt to draw in the lightning. He aimed at a husk further along the path of the spear, both of them hitting the target almost instantly after another, but it was enough he had drawn in the lightning energy and even drawn the spear off it's path by a degree or two. The lightning hit Ivan with full force, but asside from a little tingle in the fingertips and the storm of crystal around him growning denser he wasn't affected.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde
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A spear suddenly impaled itself in the midst of the raging inferno, causing Niko to jump back instinctively. What the hell? Who had thrown that? Even with their power, those monsters shouldn't have had the fine motor skills or coordination to throw that spear...not so accurately, either; it had speared itself well into the ground a foot away from him. Who was responsible?!

But when his eyes traced the direction from which the spear had flown, he could not see who or what had sent it at him. Looks like he got away quickly...looking back at the girl who was being healed, Niko figured there was enough time for him to dash away for a bit. Doing so in the direction of the horrors, he recreated his flame aura and began to burn and slash through them again. Augmented with heat, the heavy sword was working well enough against them...he probably didn't need to change his tactics, right?

Noticing two people flying in the air...one of them had wings, somehow...and seeing that they were doing nothing but flirting, Niko groaned. Couldn't they see where they were? "Oi! Flirterers! Leave your mushiness for later, get down here and be of some use! People are getting murdered down here!" he angrily shouted, leaping up and slashing some enemy that had jumped at them.

The flaming blade sank into the enemy...but didn't pierce its skin entirely. Annoyed, Niko kicked backwards, sending flames out from underneath his feet (thankfully, aimed away from the pair of flirterers), sending himself spiraling forward and forcing his blade further through the face of the monster and killing it. Satisfied, he halted the stream of fire from his feet and rolled, landing somewhat safely, though he felt a rather unpleasant pain in his spne from the force.

Blazing through the monsters yet again, he suddenly noticed Irina up ahead, taking out the nightmares with her darkness magic. Just as Niko was about to send (anything but) a compliment her way, he suddenly noticed that standing right behind her was a giant hulk clad in black armor, whose fists were shining with a strange energy. Wait...what the hell is that?! And it was preparing to attack...Irina. "Behind you, idiot!" Niko shouted, leaping just past Irina and raising his sword, the flames continuing to dance about him. Hadn't she noticed him by now, with that nearly omniscient echolocation ability?!

Whatever the reason...ugh, goddammit, she'll make my life so much worse for this.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane
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#, as written by Zalgo
"A-Ah! Look out Mister! There is one behind you!"

Myon had alerted him to the presence of another shadow attempting to assault them. Before he could dispatch the entity however the spirit made short work of the being using divine magic to purify it.

"Mister, please let me help you. I know Mistress is safe now. I may not be good at physical combat as she is but I can assist you with my magic. Also... thank you...for risking your own life to save us... I will not be able to repay the debt in full but the least I can do is provide some backup. I have basic control over water and wind but my main affinity and expertise is light. Though I am unable to provide copies to assist, my magic should be more than enough. So please, let me help you!"

Were he more foolhardy he might of refused the spirits offer of help, saying something along the lines of There's no need to repay me, just look after yourself. He was no fool. In war a person who does not fight alongside his fellow man and tries to be a hero will be cut down, if not by the enemy then by his own team members. The punishment for disobedience was to be beaten to death with wooden swords wielded by the offender's comrades. It was symbolic, designed to signify that when somebody disobeys an order, whether because they were trying to be heroic or any other reason, they were putting the lives of everyone at risk. In this case he was no longer in the military but the meaning behind the ways they fought still stuck with him. He would fight alongside any ally, to do otherwise would put both his unlife and the lives of every other ally at grave risk.

Before he could respond to the spirits earnest request there were numerous crashes in the Nameless's ranks. He turned to see several people get taken down. one of them was sent flying shortly followed by her spear. After that incident the remaining forces were left in confusion while searching for the attacker. As he was turning his head to address Myon he caught a glimpse of what was likely the source of all the damage, a large metal construct with shaped heat based claws bearing down upon some girl and a fire wielder.


He looked over to the spirit, his dark tone befitting the situation they were all in. "That depends on you. I will be dealing with the plagued rat creature. If you do not feel you have the stomach to face it I am sure the others would appreciate any assistance with the metal construct attacking them they could get." He turned away from the spirit and started striding towards the darkened region of the field where the rain muddied the earth below. "The choice is yours."

Regardless of whether or not Myon followed him he made his way over until he was in the thick of the battle with the unholy creation that dared to live in his presence. The magus had made the battlefield soggy enough for his plan to deal with the corrupt rodent. In addition the magus was trying to freeze the rodent in an ice storm. If he was successful then that would make things all the simpler. He did not think that this particular fight was going to end that easy.

Now in place, he raised his shovel up and drove it into the mud. Scooping out the mud he started digging down into the ground. The hole grew larger and deeper rather quickly as he was stupendously good at digging graves by now. About twelve feet down he stopped digging, satisfied with the depth for now. He knew if the rain held then the hole would fill up with water. This was good.

His plan was to go straight up to the foul being, grab it and bury it alive. Were the ground as dry as it was in the beginning of this war he would suspect the rat of being capable of digging it's way back up. Now that the ground was practically a marsh the beast couldn't dig a foot into the ground without the hole made by it's claws filling back up with mud. He was going to send this beast to it's watery grave, burying it alive in mud.


In preparation for his conflict with the diseased pest he reached into the pile of mud he had created when digging it's grave. He took handfuls of mud and lathered it onto his suit underneath his cloak. His whole attire was designed specifically to keep any and all sources of infection out. It was sealed up completely so there were no openings for infectious material to seep in. Between that and the plated chain mail he wore underneath for protection the insects would find great difficulty in penetrating through and reaching Pravus's undead flesh normally.

He remembered his lessons taught to him from his father during his childhood. He remembered a detail that he felt would help in this particular situation. Many animals in nature would often roll in mud in order to both mask their scent and keep insects off of them. The sticky liquid earth made the animals skin much too sticky and thick for insects to find purchase on them. The same could apply to him as well.

He finished applying the mud to his outfit. He strode up towards the rat, ignoring the carpets of insects surrounding it. Between his rain slick cloak and hat as well as his earthen defenses beneath there was no surface for the bugs to climb upon him. He stopped just short of the ice storm and simply waited for the magus to be done with his spell.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane
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#, as written by Ritnio
"You are quite strange. You dig a hole in the middle of a war. Cover yourself with mud and THEN go to fight t-that horrid beast? I don't fully understand you Mister but then again...I don't understand my own existence.

Myon had followed the warrior only to end up floating over his hole. She didn't know why he dug the hole or how he dug it so fast. She didn't want to know either. Instead she stood...well... floated as close to the ground as she could manage... next to him and raised one arm over her shoulder and held it there, ready to swing it downward. That hand held the longer blade. The other arm was slightly bent and facing outward. The back of her hand was facing up and the blade went from her left to her right as it was on its side.

It was an unseen and strange stance. Nobody but the user would be able to tell how, where, and when they will attack. The stance is unreadable and therefore safe from being countered or blocked. After positioning her swords, she bent her left leg so that she was slightly twisted to the left side. Her hair covered her eyes which meant nothing as she had closed them after taking up the stance.

She was now ready to....do whatever it is she is ready to do.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor
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The ogre the priestess was standing upon, stepped back in surprise as the muddied gravedigger emerged from the melee, tapping Seriene's hoof to draw her attention down, shouting over the sounds of battle questioningly in her alien tongue, blinking at the sight of the wounded warrior girl, patting the side of the ogre's head and motioning for it to put her down on the ground, the large creature complying with a quiet grunt, placing her down on the ground as gently as it could.
The slender priestess ran her luminescent eyes over the girl, clutching her staff tightly in one hand while hovering her hand over the various wounds and breaks in her small body, shifting her ear close to the girl's mouth to check for breathing and tapping her fingers against her neck for a pulse, chewing the corner of her lip in quiet concern.
The Draenei spoke to the mud streaked man before shaking her head and hitting the side of her head with a palm, remembering that no one could understand her, simply sighing and grasping her staff in front of her, the hooded figure of the staff's head facing towards the girl as Seriene took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, channeling a spell, muttering a prayer in an alien tongue, bluish white light wreathing her body as her shoulder plates flared up in light, blue ethereal feathers arching out of the metal protrusions and an ethereal halo forming about her head as she opened her eyes and exhaled, a small pillar and swirl of light engulfing the girl's body, as life and energy was thrust into her form, sealing her more severe wounds and fading much of her bruising.
The priestess exhaled then shouted in surprise as the gravedigger bolted off, looking rather displeased as she caught the still limp body, huffing and looking up at her unlikely companion pleadingly, the ogre shrugging and picking up the girl, carefully cradling her while Seriene casted a lesser heal to further stabilize the girl and hopefully put more energy into her.

However Seriene flinched as her keen ears picked up a sickening crunch from somewhere behind her, turning then looking up to see the animal eared woman rag doll through the air above her and her ogreish friend, her limp body thudding and rolling brokenly along the ground.
The priestess flinched and cringed at what must have been an agonizing fall, if the lady were conscious that is. She looked behind herself to see where the woman had been launched from to no particular avail.
Grunting in frustration and concern for the strange female's well being she patted her ogre companion's hand to get his attention before pointing towards the downed woman, the creature nodding in understanding and giving the girl in his arms a gentle rock, conveying he'd keep her safe while she was unconscious, Seriene giving him an awkward smile and thanking him, even though the tall muscly being had no idea what she was saying.
The agent of the Light ducked and weaved between the Nameless' forces, making a beeline for the fallen woman, emerging from the crowd with a gasp, sprinting towards the pile of rubble and the woman's broken form, her robes flapping about her legs. She cursed as she almost tripped as she neared the body, cursing and figuring that her battle-priest raiments were a little less practical than first thought and could probably use some modifications.
Seriene pushed aside her idle thoughts as she came up to the body of the woman, digging her hooves into the ground and groaning at the strain as she pushed aside the larger bits of rubble resting on the lady, sweat beading out from under her hair at the physical exertion, as small an exertion as it really was.
She huffed as she uncovered the woman, thanking the stars above that the larger shards of ice had mostly missed her or had been shattered into more manageable pieces though the strain had stolen her breath from her and she gasped to catch it once more.

Seriene grimaced at the state the black clad woman was in, wincing at the way her arms and body was bent, she kneeled beside her and placed two fingers at her neck, feeling nothing and cursing, she leaned closer, moving her ear near her mouth, unable to tell if she was breathing or if it was just the wind brushing past her. The priestess gave a rather heinous curse in her native tongue before doing her best to carefully lay the woman on her back, wincing and cringing almost in pain herself from the sound of broken bones within her body.
The draenei placed her ear to the broken woman's chest, ignoring the decidedly lewd nature of her actions for the greater good, closing her eyes and listening for a heart-beat, gasping and biting her lip at the faintest of thumps, silently thanking the Naaru for their kindness.
Seriene steeled herself as she was not looking forward in the slightest to what she was about to do. Silently asking the unconscious woman on deaths door for forgiveness she carefully but firmly bent her body and arms back into shape, realigning her pelvis and arms with the rest of her body, throwing up a little in her mouth at the sound of popping and grinding bone.
Once the woman was laying flat on her back, her bruised and shattered body looking mostly normal she began her spells of healing, tapping into the relatively new payer of Renew, hoping that by the Light's grace she could save this lady from Death's embrace, her eyes glowing brightly as her clenched hands light up with golden light, her breath quickening as she opened her hands and turned her palms over the dying woman, the holy light and energies engulfing her bodies as her bones reset themselves and her flesh knit itself together at an inhuman pace.
Seriene gasped and was forced to hold herself up on her hands as her strength was drained from her body, a considerable reserve of her strength taken away for the sake of this woman she didn't even know...
"At least I'm being useful..." was all she could think to herself as she staggered to her hooves, looking about carefully, partly hiding behind the shattered stone and ice and waiting for the woman to come to her senses while Renew ran its course through her body, hoping nothing came to kill her or undo her work.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor
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#, as written by Ritnio
A stray husk had thrown a spear at Myon, who had left her stance to look at the hole in which her partner climbed down. The spear, of course, went right through her and into the hole's wall causing it to cave in.

"Oh my! You thought that would hit me? Sorry to say but, I am currently dead already. You however, are not. Goodbye!"

With that, she 'sank' into the ground using her ghostly intangibility. The husk, blew up in a ball of light. Myon quickly found her partner underground. She needn't say anything as her presence dropped the temperature quite a bit. So it was obvious a spirit was present. Luckily, Myon can send her thoughts to people in close proximity. That is how she talks really. Her mouth never moves. People just hear what she thinks..if she wants them to anyway.

"Hello mister grave digger! It is Myon. I am currently underneath you so I apologize for the cold. I know you can't talk but, tap once for yes and twice for no. Should I go ahead and cut of the r-rat's path?"


While Myon experienced being inside a wall of dirt, Aera was just waking up back with the others. She woke up suddenly, and realized she was being carried. She went to reach for her sword but found they were missing. With that, she jumped out of the thing's arms and bolted to where she was laid down. She could care less about Hakuroken, the short blade. It was the longer blade which meant everything to her. It was her Master's family heirloom he gave to her. She couldn't bear losing it.

Spotting both her sword, but only caring about the one, she quickened her pace and picked them up. After re-attaching them to her person, Aera looked at the lady who was healing the others. She had to remember to thank her later. With a loud boom and a mini-shock wave, Aera ran to the area where she sensed Myon is at. Being as oblivious as she is, she had no idea what her little sound barrier breaking run did in terms of nearly deafening those near her when she broke it. Nor did she realize the repercussions of the shock wave itself.

She could sense the familiar life force of the grave digger below her and a sickeningly green aura of evil just ahead of him. Guessing that was the rat Myon screamed about, she planned out where the rat was heading and thus picked up the very same spear that passed through Myon. She stood ready to attack the rat from above.

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Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor
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He hadn't known what to expect when he'd stepped foot into the labyrinth. He'd waited until everyone else had filed in, hearing the sounds of battle in the maze just sealed the knowledge in his head that not charging in was an excellent plan, and he was a scholar among men for having thought up such a brilliant idea. His own thoughts making him grin, the look half confidence, half amusement.

"I'm so full of shit." He chuckled out wryly, the heat of his breath singing the filter of his cigarette, and looking almost like he was smoking it backwards. He crept up to the first turn in the maze, and was preparing to turn the corner when the wall he was leaning against went stupid, and forgot just what it was to be a wall. That is to say, it stopped being solid, turned yellow and soon after, dissipated all together. Needless to say he nearly fell.

“Called off my ass.” He muttered, already trying to figure out their angle, obviously we're under attack, he thought. You yourself had said we should use lethal force. No this had to be another test. One to weed out the weak willed. Who could say if the portals actually sent people home? For all Wayland knew, they sent people to some far off prison, or into the heart of a star.

He eyed the approaching “army' of shadows, they were definitely laying it on thick, he thought. Standing casually his cigarette lit now as he some times actually smoked them when he was thinking.

“Bullshit.” He grumbled, eyes narrowing, analyzing all of the people who had bought into the ruses powers, he might have to fight them later. The shadows were truly terrifying, they set his teeth on edge, truly an excellent illusion. They even smelled, and the weight of the weapons history unsettled him.

“Wait, what?” He did a double take, watching a man dig a hole and cover himself in mud, though that's not what caused him to stop, no it was the beasts approaching him. Or, more accurately, there weapons, they were real, not fake, he could see their history, practically taste it as he drowned in the sea of blood spilled by this putrid creature, His lip pulled back away from his teeth in a near silent snarl, showing every one of his razor sharp teeth. The very sword he was so enraptured by was an ugly, filthy thing, but it was impossible, illusions have no history. Then the blade fell, and he was convinced.

He barely brought his arm up in time to block the blade, even still it bit down to the bone, sparking as metal hit metal, the blade turning cherry red as the super heated nature of his blood vented on the foreign metal. He didn't have time to think, all thoughts of this being a test fleeing his mind as instinct kicked in and a roar like a diesel tank coming to life echoed across the battlefield, accompanied by the smell of fire, ash, and burning flesh.

He drove his weight forward into the shadow before him, its blade finally losing the battle to the heat, and slagging into molten steel across his arm which was assimilated to heal his wound. He was met by a shield. It lasted about as long as you'd expect against someone whose blood could melt swords.

He dug his talons into it. The shield had no innate magic of its own to repel him, so he took it, and he turned it against its master. The shield warped in on itself, the edges turning back and turning thorny, digging into the inky flesh of his enemy, but it didn't fall, not until his talons found purchase in its throat, ripping, gouging and tearing with all his might, with animalistic ferocity, and a growl that would be feral if not for it sounding like a roaring engine, that would terrify him later, but for now, as he tore one of the shadows heads from it's torso, and threw it to the ground at his feet, he felt more alive than he could ever remember being.

His enemies had not been idle however. As he was reveling in his kill, three more beast had advanced on him. Swords digging in to his side, and his back, where his kidney should have been, he couldn't be killed by such mundane means, well not in such small numbers, but it still hurt.

The force of the strikes made his head pitch forward into the path of the next sword, the third and final sword, it's history just as vial as the last, he hated them, the swords more than those that wielded them, they were abominable. It was aimed to sever his head through his mouth, that was not a wound he was eager to test his survivability against.

“Look what I caught.” He mouthed around he blade clenched in his teeth, his own blood dribbling into his mouth, and being absorbed in a perpetual cycle, the sword cut his cheek open giving him a wide joker smile, the Shadow struggled the pull the blade free, but he wouldn't have it, he bit through the blade, and with a maniacal laugh full of blood lust, and a roar of adulation, he tore the shadows throat out with his teeth, while still impaled by its allies.

He wasted little time after that in turning their blades against them, taking a number of wounds of his own in the process, but in his mind it was a foregone conclusion. Like the sun rising, or setting. As sure as those two things, these things would die. He headed where he'd seen the ogre set a girl down, as the rabbit lady was over there too. He probably should head over to help kill the leader, but if they needed him for that, they'd say so.

“It's about time I made myself useful.” He said, and strode with grim purpose towards the main battlefield, and his allies therein.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Spindel Peridot Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
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#, as written by duramon
KH4.Z1X


He had issued a challenge and the prey had accepted, charging at him with ignited blade and reckless abandon. The spark fancied himself a roaring flame, he would be shown his folly. He dodged under the charge moments before the attack reached him, bringing up a fist towards his opponents exposed gut with locked elbow, the prey would not survive. However it was not to be, a greater prey had arrived and fastened its hand around his wrist, the blow did not connect however the hidden burst of blue flames projected forth as intended and engulfed the area his original opponent had occupied, before he could react an elbow smashed into his helm and he found himself bouncing along the ground until his fist found purchase and allowed him to halt the movement.

A small crack ran across his visor and extended on to the left side of his helm. When the dust finally settled, the man from earlier stood just in front of the flames, but he looked younger with blonde hair and a lack of facial hair, it was no matter he had an opponent. He analyzed the mans weaponry, two obsidian gauntlets double the size of the mans actual appendages tipped with glowing claws, where the gauntlets ended at the elbow a torrent of pure white energy flowed. Not unlike his own steam did, except it seemed to have another purpose, scales of some description growing across the mans skin from the points the light made contact.

He had the luck of facing Aizen, his enemies leader. It was fortunate luck was not something that even entered his mind.

Hexagons of black ran through his suits arms, copying Aizen's gauntlets and stopping just before his elbows, they were fully re-enforced and the battle was to begin. His opponent made the first move,darting across the battlefield and swinging a fist directly at the hunters helm again, a blow that was returned in sync as a metal arm collided with the mans gut. An audible crack rung out and both opponents were sent back several meters from each other, blood splattered the sands and his helm had caved in at the left cheek.

The two continued to trade blows, fists occasionally colliding and spreading the force out across the terrain, tearing through the sands and glassing the area around them, whirs of steam and pulsations of light flinging around the battle-field every time the two collided, both sent flying and eventually colliding again further away until they arrived in an area away from the battlefield. So that had been his plan, regardless the two stood across from each-other and scans of his opponents vitals showed that he was losing. Aizen had several broken ribs and blood trickled down his fore-head due to a fractured skull, but his own armour was shattered and caved in several places.

The hunters helm was half destroyed and both his right rib-cage and right leg armour had been torn apart. Aizen stood across from him and with a sudden pulsation of light charged, an act that KH4 mimicked with his steam to meet him in the centre of their glass battlefield. The two black gauntlets collided in the centre and parted as Aizen slammed them into the ground, smashing a crater into the glass below and sending shrapnel into both fighters, a gauntlet swung through the dust and was caught by a black metal hand, the blow returned in kind and traded with legs, elbows and eventually a punch that shattered the hunters gauntlet entirely.

Aizen roared once and leaped forward, swinging a fist back-handed towards the hunter, who swiftly leaped into the air and re-enforced his leg in a flash as it slammed down onto Aizen's skull with full force. There was a sickening crunch and roar as the ground around the fighters erupted into the air, he had won, his prey stumbled on what little platform remained and suddenly threw an upper-cut that collided with the helm to shatter its jaw.

Stunned KH4 stumbled backwards, met with a roar as the mans left gauntlet was brought back to slam into his chest, the other meeting his arm, his skull, a knee slamming into his left thigh to give his opponent enough leverage to smash a twisting kick into the hunters jaw that rocked his head backwards. This couldn't be happening, he would not fail, he could beat Aizen! He looked up as his vision cleared and saw a brief explosion of light that engulfed the entirety of the area behind Aizen, before with perfect footing a bent right arm launched itself forward to collide with what remained of his chest armour.

The sands and glass and scorched earth surrounding the far off combatants did not erupt, it simply ceased to be. Obliterated in its entirety aside from a small stone platform that Aizen stood on, his fist still connected to his foe until a shock-wave erupted forth, shattering what remained of his foes armour and sending him flying back into the battlefield with a slicing gust of wind. A black slug-like being colliding with the earth inside a large group of husks, the wind that followed slicing them into mere piles of dark meat.

The leader of The Nameless slowly made his way back to the battle-field, his weapons slowly falling away as chunks of black stone that rolled into the sands he leaped across, and as the last stone hit the earth and he arrived back at the defensive line, the large slug faded out in a blue light.


Apex Flood
Apex frowned to himself as the insect flitted across his vision to land upon his right shoulder, a large slug he knew to be KH4.Z1X, his hunter. Fading into existence upon his palm and with what he could only assume was an apologetic movement, slinking itself into his armour and settling within a small compartment designed like its armour, to perfectly replicate its home environment.

His husks were few in number and spread out, it would not be long before this battle was over and not in their favor. Were it not a loss on his records it would not bother him, this battle was not his after all. He raised a hand to order a halt of his officers and growled "We return to our base, we have lost this battle. However as a parting gift, Raylee, Revive the husks on the left of the battlefield and the right. Bless the current numbers weaponry, I will have them lose more men before this is through." It was little more then a quarter of their number, but it would give them time to Finish off a few more members and leave unabated. The Leonal did as he was commanded and a holy light washed across the battle-field, clinging to the husks weapons and armour as it picked the rest up from their possible third deaths.

The rest of his officers muttered their own distaste but dare not question him, most understood his orders, others simply did not care. The Large Golem Vorin in particular let out a loud rumble that could be mistaken for a cry of attack, leaning down and reaching out from his current position to scoop up his allies and place them upon his chest just below the large crest. They would observe the battle from here before making their way to their masters, mainly for the sake of honor. To leave before the battle was complete was true cowardice.

The setting changes from Phyrexian Grassland to The Garden

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Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor
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Seriene sorta just stood around in her bunch of chunks of ice with the incapacitated bunny woman.
She was probably killed by something while she was at it. Being not combat focused and generally ignored y'know.
Which may or may not have resulted in bunny girls death. "I wish I'd been a paladin instead." would probably be the Draenei's dying thought.
Or maybe she just got lost. Who knows. The end.

The setting changes from The Garden to Phyrexian Grassland

Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane
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Qwerty, aka Experiment 'Sludgepile', was having bitter-sweet feelings about today. Considering the recent events that transpired since he, though technically he was an it, having been transported here shortly after his latest success story in the murdering business, it was definitely the strangest day he had. This was a rather impressive feat, due to him being a sentient human-shaped pile of organic sludge wearing sweatpants and clasping on a pair steel pipes as clubs. Having gone through from a sudden series of rapidly changing events, Qwerty had ended up in the thick of a grand battle, perhaps even large enough to be a small war of sorts, and was loving every minute of it. However he was immensely infuriated when he was met with the sight of various husks being resurrected from the dead, while others that were already among the living were bolstered in strength, snarling in rage and frustration at the shadowy underlings, especially those that fell by his own hand earlier.

"You got to be f***ing joking! Do you b***ards have any idea how hard it was to murder that many of them? Sure it was a right laugh, especially the fella whose head I squashed by bashing the two pipes together, but they did tons of slashes and smashes and other injuries beginning with S's on me!? Granted some of them have healed up now, that's the case with this weird healing factor junk I got, but one of them tried to chop my head off! The c**t! If there dead, leave em dead, ain't fair otherwise you cheating cowards!", Qwerty babbled furiously, having indicated to various wounds that adorned his sludgy body, including a clean stab wound through his side, a missing toe, and the previously mentioned incriminating attempt of cleaving around half way along his long snake-like neck. It was obvious he was hampered by the numerous wounds on his body, his already cumbersome speed impeded as well as his advantageous strength, and though his wounds were still healing, it was occurring at a snails pace. He wasn't ready for being in the thick of it and he begrudgingly knew it.

As the husk hoard approached, Qwerty made the shaming decision to retreat, an action he never was comfortable with, but saw it necessary as he began lumbering towards the defensive line, grumbling under his breath as the shadowy underlings were figuratively and occasionally literally nipping at his heels. He hastily battered back a few husks that got too close, desperately pushing them back with his great steel pipes he wielded as clubs, as well as spitting clumps of acidic slime, as well as adhesive slime, in an attempt to slow their numbers, still scrambling towards The Nameless and fellow competitors striving to survive.
"This just ain't f***ing fair I tell ya! reviving the dead while im heavily injured is just a wimpy loser way of a come back!" Qwerty raged to no one in particular, now at half-way to what appeared to be an iron fence that wasn't there earlier, with all sorts of combatants fighting nearby.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
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#, as written by duramon
Rest arrives in The Nameless abode, and gratitude arrives in the form of breakfast interrogation


There was no rest for the wicked, and so the good could not rest either, or at least that was the way he looked at it. Without pause Aizen dashed across the battlefield, a tapestry stretching from his original point and reaching the rabbit woman who lay mostly healed next to the corpse of her savior, an alien woman whom had healed her amongst the midst of battle. With a delicate sigh he slid her eyes shut with an out-stretched hand and slammed the tapestry's wooden end into the ground beside The Black Rabbit, picking up her broken form in gentle hands and lightly nudging the tapestry with one elbow. It had been expensive to purchase, but it would seem worth it as the battlefield began to glow, the remaining people and the defended innocents vanishing under the glow of a large arcane rune. The recruits taken with them for the ride as the large group stood in a rather extravagant mansion, or at least one that used to be extravagant, at the current moment it looked more worse for wear.

With a light huff he lifted a hand in the air and with a slam and click the mansion shut down, the windows closed and the doors shut and an arcane buzz ran through out the floor boards. They would be safe for now, or at least he hoped they would, a few of the younger nameless squeaked or sobbed after the ordeal and he took a moment to go around with the older members to re-assure them and comfort those whom had lost family or close friends in the battle. Eventually returning to his place as everyone but himself vacated to various parts of the mansion, ushering along children and teenagers with encouraging words even as they wiped the blood off of themselves, they had been through this ordeal before and it would not be the last time.

With his final reassuring smile given out, an angered frown hung across his face. His blonde hair grew out slightly and a beard pushed through his jowls to surround his mouth, a smokey grey colour that now matched his hair, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared down the group of recruits whom had stayed behind to assist for one reason or another. "You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves. The same offer from the recruitment stands, but only for those who are useful for more then just hitting, their is no room for cannons in a game of survival and I need people who can do more then just fight, people who have the right morals." He quickly affirmed, with a grunt and half a growl as he picked at a piece of rib that had pierced through his torso.

"Temporary lodgings are up the stairs and to the left, you each get a room to share with a person of your choice, choose wisely. Tomorrow morning once we've made sure we are under no further threat I will come to your rooms and each pair will individually explain their reasoning and justify why I should trust them with my people and to represent them in further guild games. If you make the cut I'll De-brief you and bring you up to speed on everything that's going on, and what exactly this world is, if you don't its the same deal as the recruitment. You go home. A certain red headed demon is resting in the farthest room facing the front of the building, those who require healing will find their lodgings sufficiently enhanced by magic for their particular needs." He said, turning without another word for a moment and heading between a gap that had created itself in the wooden stairs, stairs that now split into two pathways one to each side of the upper levels, as the gap closed and the stairs re-formed he gave the recruits a kind smile and half-whispered "Thank you, all of you." before the gap closed and he was lost within the walls of the stairs, unbeknownst to them immediately taking his place by the bed-side of a particular rabbit-eared woman, his fingers templed at a peak in front of his face, resting on an unstable thumping leg as he began his vigil by her side.

The recruits and any others that had been pulled along were left alone to decide their partners for lodging, the candelabra's lining the walls fluttering out as the flames died low and eventually extinguished to leave the mansion in darkness, after all the fluster and teleportation the mansion would have simply looked worn and empty and the darkness would serve to keep this true for the new comers to its fold, it was with a rush of wind that the upper west levels of the mansion lit up, a singular candle waiting on a table by the door of each lodging.