Where the World Ends (Samheen 24th, GT, closed)

[Tristam]

Professor Moore nodded his ascent to Corbin's words. "You have led us well so far Corbin. We shall again be guided by you in this." He concluded. "Your logic is sound in any case. No doubt they hope the Nether portal will be proof against the Rosestone." Professor Moore grinned. "Let's show them their folly." He gestured with his staff for the others to lead the way.

[Corbin Dillon]

Reassured by the words of his mentor, Corbin turned back to face the direction in which they would travel and looked round at the others making eye contacts and smiling confidently.

"We have seen what these so-called hell creatures can do when faced with the power that we now wield - nothing. Whilst it is natural that we proceed with caution, we can also proceed with the confidence that this stone is an equaliser and when matched with our skill and heart they will undoubtedly fall. Now let us follow up our victory and take this fight to their sanctuary." Corbin said gesturing in the direction that they were to take, and beginning to walk towards it.

[Grant]

Two days ago, Lord Azarin had located one of the Citadel's unusual secrets and had followed it down to the catacombs beneath the Citadel. He hadn't explored far within, sensing the danger in the place...and for this, he had lived to see someone else encounter the demon in the catacombs of the Citadel.

Not long after his first, tentative steps, the dungeons located just above the catacombs (though separated by almost a full pace of cut and set rock) had come alive with hauntings and sightings of some horrible evil within. Andolin had responded as any Lord might, sending a cohort of Purple Guardsmen to their dooms below. No one had seen or heard from the guardsmen again. It wasn't until Elaine gave her impassioned report of what lies beneath that the full depth of the haunting became known...but in many ways, the damage had been done.

Turning to the left and proceeding on, the hallway extended far beyond the reach of torchlight that perfectly illuminated the party in the otherwise dark corridor. Having taken only perhaps ten steps down this path, the still air up ahead was suddenly filled with the sound of...arrows.

ssssssingt! singt-singt singt!

"To shield!" exclaimed one of the Purple Guardsmen at the front, lifting his before his form quickly...though the arrows had taken their toll. Two of the guardsmen fell, one clearly dead (the arrow had pierced his breastplate just over his heart) and the other soon to be dead (his arrow had chipped one of his teeth as it entered his mouth, jutting out the back of his neck just under the collar of his helm). There had been four arrows, two of which found lethal marks while another lodged in Valsert's shield and another lodged in a guardsman's thigh, though thankfully not deep. The arrows were typical of the kind used by the Purple Guard themselves, in the rare cases they would use arrows...and in the silence that followed the attack, the remaining Purple Guardsmen seemed hesitant and uncertain regarding just what to do.

[valsert]

To say the sudden ranged attack had caught him by surprise was an understatement, yet Val knew that in battle there was only one way to counter skilled archers. There would be no choice but to charge forward to end the threat to the mission. His life…the life of the other guards…they did not matter in the end. Only the professors and the Rose stone could end this nightmare.

“You there Private, take the rear guard. We do not know where those hounds went…but keep up when we start moving.” Val said to the guard whose thigh still held an arrow.

“Mister Dillon, Professors…. Commander, it is of the most importance that you keep up with us. Distance yourselves by a few yards, but KEEP UP. That rock will continue to be the difference between life and death for us as your protectors, but if we are gone…that pack of dogs may be more then a match for the rest of you.”

Just another fight Val, just a normal fight…so then why am I so afraid?

Getting a better grip on his shield and blade, and making sure the shield was covering him properly, he made what perhaps might be his last order to these warriors of purple, and infact likly his last words to ever speak.

“Prepare to charge………No voice………watch your strikes…….FORWARD!”

[Corbin Dillon]

Corbin heard the whistle of the arrows before he saw them strike home. He brought his sword up in front of him to offer at least some protection, though he knew that were the shot on target it would most likely hit him rather than his blade. As the Purple Guardsmen formed up, Corbin instinctively stepped forward - the angles of it meant that the closer they were to the guardsmen, the less chance there was of an arrow going over the guards and coming down onto them.

As Valsert ordered the charge, Corbin moved forward with them keeping a few steps behind as the guardsman had advised. He still held his sword at the ready and poised to strike if anything presented itself as a target.

Corbin could feel the power of the Rosestone as they advanced, and he was beginning to feel the aging effect - he was sure his skin on his hand was looking slightly older, but then perhaps that was simply the lack of good light? Or the effort of the last day? But now was certainly not the moment to reflect on these things - if he survived the time for reflection would come.

[Grant]

Tactically, there were no good options to be had. While respite could be found by the arrows were the party to retreat around the corner, they would be trapped...and pinned down by the unseen archers in the gloomy distance. Remaining where they were might have even been an option if the party could accomplish a flank, but they had no guarantees of that...and to remain under the volley would bring horrible consequences.

That left only one option. Charging the archers where they were was certainly no fine thing...the desperate group had no way to know how far the archers were, and they could not see their opponents at all...but at least the arrows would stop and they could engage their unseen opponents in battle directly. With this thought in mind, the guardsmen advanced...charging into the darkness before them with no real certainty just what they'd find before or behind them.<hr>In life, they hadn't been exemplary or exceptional soldiers. They were good soldiers, but they were all cowards, and for this they had found an altogether new kind of Hell that gave them to curse the day they were born almost every quarter mark.

When their patrol had been ordered down into the dungeons to scout out the rumors of these hauntings, they had gathered up their weapons and joined the patrol as any Purple Guardsman might. And when the killing began, they had fled. To consider them cowards might have been rather harsh, for the Changer had struck at them directly, pulling the very stones of the Palace itself upon them and crushing their comrades right before their eyes. There was precious little they could do about such a thing, and so they chose to withdraw, fleeing away as quickly as they might.

They never made it out...and by all accounts, they never died. Captured by the Demon Prince itself, they were the only ones of the patrol with bodies still whole enough to be properly used by the monster. It did this, drawing their blood from their bodies and replacing it with...something else, an ichor that served the purpose well but left them as much demon as man...a creature of two worlds but belonging to none, little more than beings of nothingness...like the Hellhounds that attacked before them.

In such a condition, they were in every sense possessed...but they still had their minds and their memories and their awareness. No choice was left to them...the Changer was as much a part of them as they were themselves...but they had names and they had intelligence. It was a curious hell to live, and a very real result of what came from a moment of cowardice.

The invaders were easily seen. They carried with them torches to light their way, and those torches had silhouetted their opponents perfectly. They watched with impassive disdain as the party charged, perhaps three magi and five Purple Guardsmen...maybe more. "Spears," came the order, though none of the four men could truly say how their leader had been chosen...and none of them really needed to hear the order, anyway. The bows were set aside and the spears were taken up, each one set forward into the narrow hallway in preparation for the swiftly approaching party.<hr>Valsert was out in front, his shield forward and his sword prepared to strike. Just behind him was Corbin, and to either side, another guardsman...the corridor was almost too narrow for comfort...as they crunched forward towards the darkness beyond, the relative silence of the catacombs at odds with the sounds of the men grunting and gasping with the efforts of their attack.

When the charging guardsmen neared the spears, they found four soldiers, each one clearly a Purple Guardsman at some time in the past. They still wore purple, but their tabards were darkened with old blood and their weapons were smudged to black. Even their flesh had been smudged...most likely with oil or blood...such that they were little more than dark spots in a dark hallway. The spears, however...they took the guardsmen by surprise.

CLANG!

When Valsert fell upon one of the spears, he thankfully had the half-flicker necessary to brace himself for the impact. The spear was aimed center at his shield...his opponents had only shadows and silhouettes with which to aim...and it's butt was properly set into the course gravel of the catacomb floor such that it gave very stubbornly indeed, it's point thankfully catching upon the rim of Valsert's shield and breaking off. As it did, the guardsman was stopped suddenly, his legs swinging forward and his form collapsing to the ground with no injury at all save for perhaps Corbin's knee upon his shoulder.

And Corbin's knee did plant upon Valsert's shoulder briefly as the charge came to an abrupt halt. Sliding a short distance in the gravel, he fell forward down to his knees, his left knee landing upon Valsert's shoulder and the Rosestone falling from his grip upon the gravel floor beside him. The guardsman charging to the right met with another spear, one that glanced down and ran between his legs, making his advance rather awkward, while the guard to the left received two spears, one of which glanced off to the wall ineffectually while the other took him in the lower abdomen, an impalement that could only be fatal though the Guardsmen refused to accept it, pushing forward upon the haft of the spear with his sword raised.

[Corbin Dillon]

The termination of the charge was less than heroic, Corbin reflected with despair as the Rosestone fell from his grasp and guardsmen were knocked to the floor or impaled. His instinct was to grasp for the Rosestone, but the proximity to the enemy was such that his first attention must be on them.

He still held his sword in his right hand, and raised it higher into a guard position which could quickly be adapted to block any blows coming from above - which given his kneeling position was the most likely place that they would come from. A quick glance to his left showed the horrible sight of one of his party impaled deeply on a spear. A quick glance to his right revealed that that guardsman had fared better and was not wounded. The loss of one guardsman was, of course, a blow but it could have been a lot worse.

His sword still held firmly in front of him, prepared to defend or strike, he groped with his left hand for the Rosestone as he began to regain his footing and stand again.

[valsert]

His shield arm felt as though it were on fire as his wounded shield arm took the brunt of the sudden halt to his charge. Even more pain assaulted him as Corbin’s knee made its landing. It was all the Guardsman could do to rally his senses to rise and press the attack.

Raising his battered shield in defense, Val scurried to his knees while preparing his sword to help defend any attacks while he stood.

He could feel something wet on the ground as he worked to rise….and he could smell the scent of fresh blood.

[Grant]

Scattering like water, the remainder of the Hellhounds charged through the catacombs, racing to slip away into the darkness. The battle was over for them...they had done what they were intended to do...and all that remained was to see themselves out and beyond to survive for another fight, another time. From the catacombs they could flee into the sewers, out to the escape cove, or even into the University...and they might have gone to all these places, separating and preparing for hiding until one of their own called them back to serve once again. After all, regardless of what happened here in the Tether, the Nether would always be there...and they would always hear it regardless of where they went.

In the Catacombs, the possessed humans continued to fight on. They couldn't win, but they could hurt the mortals...and they would go on hurting until their very last, holding out while the Rift was prepared for it's coming destruction. To the right of where Corbin knelt upon the ground, the guardsman advanced to the spear-carrying creature and hacked at him furiously, the enemy unable to shift to a guard fast enough to avoid the first blow that cut deeply into his neck. Strangely, the neck would was not fatal to the possessed guardsman, and it merely dropped it's spear where it was fouled between it's opponent's legs and took out it's sword, guarding against the savage strikes falling upon it.

To the left, the impaled guardsman was impaled a second time on the second spear, intent as they were to stop his advance completely. This second stab manage to do that, the Purple Guardsman's sword falling from his deceased grasp and his body going limp...though it remained upright due to the horrible weapons that ruined his body. The possessed creatures before him did let free of their spears and took up their swords as well, one advancing forward to flank around to where the Professors were just behind the Purple line.

But neither of these struggles were paramount to either Corbin or Valsert. The one directly before them had quickly shifted to it's own blade, and just as Corbin prepared his defense, the blows began to rain down, hammering into his weapon with great...but not unreal...strength. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! one after another, the creature battered at Corbin's guard until Corbin's blade could withstand no more, snapping and breaking along some unseen steel striation and leaving him with little more than a foot of blade in his hand. While the creature had managed to break Corbin's weapon, the multiple strikes took time...and in that time, Valsert managed to roll away to his right and regain his footing.

Where he now stood, Valsert could see one guardsman locked in combat just before him, while just beside him Corbin and his broken blade only just managed to defend against another. Just beyond Corbin, against the opposite wall of the cavern, one of the creatures advanced forward to strike beyond the purple guard...and there he saw Professor Acantha armed with what might have been a glaive, that weapon set to receive the flanker upon it's rather lengthy, razor-sharp point.

[Corbin Dillon]

It appeared Corbin had guarded himself just in time, as he caught a blow on his sword, sending shock up his arm. He pushed his sword hack into guard position, only to feel another blow, then another as the possessed creature pounded its sword furiously down upon his guard. As strong as he was, Corbin knew that he could not hold this guard forever, and he began to prepare himself to take the offensive against this fell creature.

It was at that moment that his sword snapped, and Corbin cursed under his breath as the family sword which his father had presented to him broke in his grip, leaving him with nothing but the hilt and a short length of metal to defend himself. This changed things, and Corbin's mind focussed on the defensive again, barely parrying the next blow that fell down towards him.

In that split seconds many thoughts ran through his head, but the main one was the recognition that Valsert was up, and not engaged and easily within striking distance of the creature that was intent upon destroying Corbin. Corbin willed Valsert to strike at this opponent, silently acknowledging the selfishness of this. He prepared himself as well, raising himself so that he had one put braced against the ground to provider him with greater mobility. He knew that the creatures had other-worldly abilities and that a single blow from Valsert might not be enough, so Corbin assumed a position such that he would be able to try and do further damage to the creature with his broken blade if the creature became distracted. Corbin assumed the creature would be much less efficient if it had no eyes, and Corbin looked for an opportunity to thrust the broken blade into the creatures face and knock it to the floor.

This of course, was getting ahead of himself somewhat and he watched the swings of the enemies blade to aid him in his blocking of the blows, bring what was left of his sword up to ward off the weapon and try to unbalance the creature.

[valsert]

The chaos of battle was never the clean crisp design of tactics and maneuvers that strategists designed on paper. In the heat of battle, the best laid plans could unravel in the blink of an eye…. yet this was what a Guardsman trained for, to stand toe to toe against his enemy, and defend with his or her life.

Having regained his feet, Val wasted no time in springing back into action. Corbin’s attacker, being the nearest to him, seemed the best place to use his sword. Stepping forward so that he stood adjacent to the foe bearing down on Corbin, Val slashed his sword downward to strike the back of the undead attackers leg. He was not sure the attack would hamstring or sever the things leg, but he was rather sure it would at least draw attention away from Corbin and allow the man a chance to recover from the vicious onslaught.

“Rearm yourself sir! Guard the stone!” He said as the strike came down.

[Grant]

Once again, the battle shifted in the span of heartbeats. In one heartbeat, the creatures bore down upon the hopeful party, threatening to crush what hope they had, and in the next they were scattered and shattered. The opportunity Corbin sought came the moment Valsert's blade slashed down upon the zombie's leg, biting at the back where the armor was most easily defeated. Cutting deep, the zombie would have fallen back though Corbin used the opening to sink the remaining shard of his sword into the creature's eye socket, buried to the hilt and leaving the shambling, tattered body to collapse to the ground, no doubt dead.

The flanking zombie descended upon Professor Acantha only to find the glaive. The long weapon presented as much of a defense for the University instructor as it did for the zombies earlier, and the creature was paused attempting to bat the long, lethal blade aside and get by to the magi beyond. Thankfully, Acantha moved the halberd with enough skill and anticipation that the attacker was at least held at bay...and Acantha did not appear overly stressed or concerned with the exchange.

The Purple Guardsman directly before Valsert managed to cut down the zombie before him. While the process was far from simple, the exchange was swift and brutal, the spear that had missed the guardsman left lying upon the catacombs floor alongside a fallen longsword. Only two zombies remained between the heroes and the Rift, with one held in place by Acantha's formidable glaive and the other standing before the party, long sword in hand to await the next opponent.

Where Corbin stood, a fallen zombie was before him and one was behind him, fighting Acantha. Another fighting zombie was further forward in the hallway, already squaring off against one of the Purples, while Valsert stood just alongside. Corbin's broken longsword had pulled free from his grip, still lodged in the ocular cavity of the deceased zombie they had both slain together.

[Corbin Dillon]

Corbin grinned with satisfaction as the zombie collapsed to the floor, dead. It made up, in some way, for the death of Bregana. The the hilt of his family sword was torn from his grasp, but he hoped he would have time to recover it once the rift was closed, for now was not the time to struggle to free a useless weapon. Quickly scooping up the Rosestone, Corbin moved to pick up the longsword which was lying on the floor. Whilst the spear would have afforded him the chance to keep a zombie at bay, he had no experience with using it, and at least with a sword he knew how to handle it.

With the two weapons, one magical and one very much physical, he surveyed the scene of the battle. There were now only two creatures left to dispatch. Whilst Corbin could have made a dash for the rift on his own, he did not know what surprises it would have in store for him - and he did not want to face those surprises on his own, that would have been foolhardy. The odds were now with the mages and guardsmen, and the zombies would hopefully be finished off in short order. Acantha appeared to have her zombie in hand, but her magical knowledge needed protecting. Corbin advanced towards the battle behind him, knowing that the creature would find the battle a lot more difficult if it faced an opponent at front and back. Looking for an opportunity to drive his sword into an exposed, and preferably deadly part of the creatures body he drew his sword up into a guard position and prepared to strike.

[Grant]

Once upon a time, they had been something far more than mortal. Infused with the power of Hell, they no longer felt pain, fear, or any other kind of mortal emotion, things that they could remember as little more than vague memories of some uncertain, dream-like past. Now their world was something unreal, a new nightmare of total obedience and servitude. Death was a fine release for the possessed Purple Guardsmen, and while they might otherwise be virtually impossible to kill, the Rosestone freed them from the clinging, sickly connection to Hell that might otherwise render them virtually invulnerable in their misery.

One of the desperate guardsmen accompanying the party into the catacombs managed to kill one of the possessed soldiers, and he quickly advanced to engage the next one before them, his sword held high and his shield held close. The sounds of metal ringing upon metal indicated that the duel had begun, a duel that the possessed guardsman did not with to win...but had no choice at all but to fight to the death.

The possessed guardsmen facing Acantha was of the same kind, grim in its determination but far from thoughtless or foolish. It continued to hammer upon Acantha's glaive, battering at it in hopes of creating an opening, when Corbin rounded upon it and advanced, forcing it to turn away from the Professor. In that instant alone, Acantha drove the mighty glaive into it's side, a horrifying wound that the possessed man clearly did not feel as he lifted his own guard towards Corbin. His blood spurted out over the glaive's broad, sharp blade, but the blood was clear and thin as if it were nothing more but water. The attack pushed it against the far wall of the cavern, leaving Corbin free to end it or turn to assist the long guardsman to the front in his desperate struggle against the last of the possessed creatures, the sounds of that struggle ringing out all around.

[Corbin Dillon]

As the guardsman turned to face him, Corbin prepared to fight. That, however, was unnecessary as Acantha's blade drove into the creatures side. The wound would obviously have been mortal to any normal human. Obviously this was no normal human, but Corbin was sure that the possessed guardsman must be close to death. As Corbin contemplated this he heard the sound of battle close by - it was one of his companions in battle with one of the possessed. Corbin was tempted to turn and assisst, but he knew what the most sensible thing to do was - he had to kill this creature before him whilst it was reasonably helpless. He knew the Rosestone was limiting, or blocking, its ability to heal - but he would not leave it any chance of striking back at them.

Corbin raised his sword and aimed a strong strike at the creatures neck, aiming to sever its head, or at least damage so much of its neck that it would cling to its unholy life no more. He knew that once this last creature was dead they could all focus their attention on the last creature, and swiftly end it before approaching the rift. The thought of this forced him on, and the fatigue that threatened to take hold of him was held off by his desire to finish this creature. Then the next. And if need be the next, and the one after that until the rift was closed and the Citadel safe.

[Grant]

In a moment, it was over, the creature's head neatly cut by Corbin's borrowed sword. The broadsword he had borrowed from the catacombs floor was far from the quality of his previous weapon, but it was serviceable enough and its blade was sharp. The possessed creature could do little to defend itself (its shield was trapped between its impaled body and the cavern wall), and so Corbin's cut was mercifully clean.

That left one more defender. In any other circumstances, the defender would have turned and fled...but none among the possessed guardsmen were even capable of flight. Oh, they thought about it...they might have even tried to do it...but their will was not their own, and so they would fight to the death. And what was worse...they would welcome death when it came, for they were damned anyway.

There was a curious justice in the Rosestone that lived beyond the perception of any present. Whatever hold that Hell had over these men, it was broken by the Stone...and that hold would leave them free to escape this life and move on in peace. Of course, their departure to whatever heaven they claimed would be delayed until the Rosestone had passed...but in a very real sense, the Stone had given them hope where none might have otherwise been. Sadly, none of the desperate expedition could see this effect...and no one ever would...but it was a curious benefit to all present that the grip of Hell was finally weakened and torn away, leaving all around it the freedom to resist the Demon and the Nether in their final moments.

Perhaps for this reason...or perhaps for another...the last defender would hold out despite the horrible odds against him. Already the Purple Guardsman had hacked a few grievous wounds upon it's arms, and already the guardsman had been wounded, his refreshingly red blood welling up upon his clothes, but he clearly could not hold out for much longer. "I....need...assistance..." gasped the Purple Guardsmen just as Corbin finished off the flanker pinned against the wall.

[Corbin Dillon]

Corbin felt a sensation of satisfaction and relief as his sword ended the unlife of the possessed Purple Guardsman. His last experience with the Guardsman when he had encountered the demon had shown that part of the human still remained under the demonic possession, and he hoped he had granted a merciful relief to the man.

His relief, however, was short-lived. Hearing the urgent request for assistance, Corbin turned and advanced towards the last remaining guardsman. He tried to keep the possessed guard in between himself and his wounded companion so that whichever of the party the last creature attacked, it would leave itself open to the other.

Having already killed with this blade he was getting used to the weight of it, and he held it comfortably at guard as he moved forwards carefully looking to strike at the creature and draw its attention so that one of his comrades could deliver the coup de grace.

[valsert]

Seeing Corbin advancing to defend the wounded "live" guard, Val moved forward also. His sword was heavy in his hands, and the days hard work removed any simblance of warmth...there was no satisfaction, simply a job to be done and an evil to kill.

His sword was held paralell to the ground and he advanced. With 3 swords searching to end the unlife of this last foe, he felt it would be over quickly...but what else learked in the darkness ahead...and would his waining strengh hold out to see this task done?

[Grant]

In moments, the task was done. Like any warrior presented with such suddenly hopeless odds, the zombie-like creature sought to shift its position to minimize the disadvantage of facing so many opponents. Unlike any living warrior, it never for a moment considered fleeing away from the potent danger presented before it, a decision that any rational soul might happily make regardless of what strange ideas it might have concerning honor or duty. Curiously, neither Valsert nor Corbin would need to make the killing strike against the creature, for as it turned to shift its position away from the approaching flankers, the Guardsman before it seized the opportunity to severe first its blocking arm and then much of its neck, failing to remove the head entirely but striking well enough such that it fell, lifeless before it struck the floor.

After this, there was silence. The Purple Guard guarding the rear were already seeing to the wounded, though sadly most of those were wounded beyond any hope of survival. Curiously, the guardsman that had been shot through the mouth with an arrow had not died as most had presumed, and while removing the arrow was a tricky business leaving a mangled mess in its wake, the wounded man was reclined against one wall, apparently breathing easily.

Professor Acantha spared no moment to inspect the carnage around. "Get the stone to the Rift before anything else escapes!" came the professor's sharp hiss, the waving blade of the glaive still presented forward towards the darkness ahead. "It's very close now!"

How the Professor could know this would be anyone's guess, for the catacombs ahead were as dark as any other, with the torchlight of the party only reaching forward a dozen paces to bathe the fallen corpses of the recent struggle in it's steady, orange flow. Curiously, the torchlight had grown rather stable, with not a single gust of wind or breeze to disturb their burn...a certain sign that whatever lay ahead, it would not be much further.

[Corbin Dillon]

As the last of the enemy fell to the floor, dead, Corbin breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that his body was tired, and he also knew that if he stopped long enough to thinka bout that he would probably have trouble moving much further. The temptation to lean back against the wall and takemany deep breaths was strong, but he fought it.

As Acantha spoke, he turned towards her and knew that he must obey whatever she said. He was not sure what she knew, or if she detected anything - being at the centre of the Rosestone's power he detected nothing that he could not see, hear or feel wtih his ordrinary senses.

"With me." He said to the torch-bearing guardsman.

Clasping his sword in his right hand, and the Rosestone in his left he moved forwards towards the rift quickly and with purpose. He did not know what lay within, or even without the rift, but the sensation of fear was something he had grown used to over the last days or so and it was now almost a companion - he knew it that well. With a determined set to his face he advanced to the rift.

"What must I do?" He shouted back to Acantha and Moore.

[valsert]

It had not been difficult for Valsert to fight against these things...these former comrads, but as the last one fell it pulled at his heart.

These soldiers were once part of something great and Honorable...heh...then again so was I ONCE he thought as he went forward to the last to have fallen, to search for anything on the man that could be taken and allow his family to atleast know of his fate.

Seeing Corbin moving forward ahead of the group, Val gained his feet again, determined to not let the man go on without his protection.

As quiet as possible, Val moved forward to close the small distance between them.

[Tristam]

"Merely walk into the rift." Acantha called back. "The stone will do the rest."

Valsert and Corbin walked forward in the flickering light of their torch. The smell of rank decay grew stronger as they moved forward. At the edge of the circle of light they caught glimpses of rotting corpses and the carcasses of rodent and other vermin.

Then it was before them. It stretched from floor to ceiling, a rip in the fabric of reality just like a rip in a curtain. The edges even flapped in an unfelt breeze. Best to look to those edges for their eyes refused to acknowledge what was between them. It would be easier to stare into the sun that to look at the alien landscape of pain that lay beyond.

As it came into the field of light the Rosestone began to work upon it. One moment it was the sinkhole of evil threatening to plunge the world into darkness. With the next step, the Rift vanished as though it never was. For the briefest of moments the Rosestone turned jet black and the jewel felt oily against Corbin's skin. Then it returned to its normal state of pink and weight.

The torchlight seemed brighter now and the tunnel lost most of its menace. The Rift was closed. The battle had been won.

OOC: I now declare this thread passable.

[Corbin Dillon]

Corbin's body was tensed for some last, violent resistance from the portal as he walked towards it, Rosestone in hand, held at chest height. The sight, and indeed smell, of the corpses around the edge of their vision was horrible, but Corbin knew he could not think about that. He could not think about how weary his body was, how much the activity of the last few days had sapped his energy - he certainly could not think about the effect the Rosestone was having on him, how it was shortening his life with every second he held it. All he could now think about was closing this portal to damnation, and stopping the evil which poured forth from it. He cast a quick glance at the corpses. Was Bregana there? He didn't have time to inspect them now. Focussing his attention forward, he advanced.

It seemed almost like magic, the appearance of the rift - but it would most certainly have been the blackest magic that summoned this thing. Corbin looked briefly through the rift, but he could not comprehend what was through it - but he knew that whatever hells could be created on this plane, they did not even begin to compare to what he saw through the rift. For a moment he felt compelled to step through, just to see what was beyong the rift, what was happening through there, but he forced any such perverse thoughts from his head and focussed his gaze away from the rift, and towards the edges of it.

And then it was gone. It was over. The rift had been removed in an instant. Corbin did not understand what had happened, only that the Rosestone had somehow changed briefly, before reverting back. What he did understand was that the rift was closed, and this small band of warriors and mages had closed shut the portal which had threatened the Citadel itself.

With the knowledge of this hours of pain and exhaustion shot over Corbin, and he staggered slightly before recomposing himself. There were still two things he needed to do before he could leave the tunnels, return the Rosestone and inform the Majordomo of the rift's closure.

Turning round Corbin moved back to where the fighting had taken place, located the hilt of the family sword which was now buried in the face of one of the Guardsmen, braced his foot against the dead man's head and pulled it out. He would have this reforged in honour of this victory. That done, he steeled himself for the next task. He found it surprisingly easy - after the horrors and the adversity he had been through, most things seemed to have lost their fear. This, though, would be unpleasant. Walking back towards where the rift was, he began to look over the corpses, trying to see if Bregana's was amongst them. He knew that hers would be one of the less decomposed one - she had disappeared.... a short time ago. He didn't even know what day it was, or how long he had been down here. What he did know was that he wanted to give Bregana the dignity of a proper burial. He was sure that now the tunnel was clear there would be people sent down to retrieve these bodies, and hopefully they would get the proper treatment but he wanted to ensure that Bregana did.

[valsert]

Valsert could feel it, a tugging at the edges of his mind…the edges of his sanity. Reality stood in his sight, but there in the midst of it all, and insanity with such vivid force to rip the mind from a living man. Had this been what took hold of the guards they had been forced to kill? Had they looked too deeply into the rift?

He stumbled as his human mind worked to understand what his eyes took in. His sword, the balance of life and death for a warrior…his one true companion in battle, began to slip from his grasp.

Then it was over. Like waking from a nightmare, the world crashed again into reality…although unlike a dream, the pain of the day remained.

[Tristam]

OOC: Since you guys are so far behind the synch date I am going to wrap this up in summary mode. If there is anything you absolutely want to be done here that I do not mention, PM me and I shall adjust things accordingly.

IC:

A quick search by the guards revealed no new enemies to face. The closing of the Rift had either put all guards to flight and sapped them of their energy to do so. The wounds upon the surviving guards were serious but with the proper care they should live. Corbin was encouraged to return the Rosestone or at least retreat with it, so that the mages could conduct a magical search of the area. The Rosestone was returned safely to the archive and returned to its vault. A search of the tunnels both magical and mundane turned up all the bodies of the lost Purple Guards as indicated by the remains of tattered tabards, and several more bodies to decomposed to be recognizable. Of Bregana's body there was no sign. Nor was there any sign of the demon that Corbin encountered on his first foray down here. They had won this battle, but their quarry had escaped.