• Event • The Mummer's Ball

[Vega]

Later, if there was such, Vega would remember that Arlo didn't dance. That people ~ including people she knew ~ got up and wandered off, that Friell ignored her.

One of those things would hurt her feelings. The other two would cement her opinions. In this moment, none of them were important.

Because right now, in this moment, the Beneath was erupting in this room. Vega was very used to combat situations, to the heat of battle and she looked around with a focused gaze. "Why'd they always have to give a speech?" Vega muttered to herself as the woman who had being snaffling down monkey brain in a "I'm so dark and gloomy" manner started talking and .... cutlery started dancing about. Not in a good, wholesome, night time story you tell kids you want to grow up to be happy sitting around a house and dusting surfaces kind of way. No, this was more the sort of nasty dancing cutlery which was going to put someone's eye out or do someone else a mischief, Vega thought.

She saw the Monkey-Brain Fear-Me-Monologue Woman stand and give her speech and, although she did not notice it at the time, Vega moved with her brother, her hand moving around the sword of light which appeared in her hand. Would Qylios' weapon be more effective, since Qylios was here? Vega didn't know, but she figured maybe. She saw what happened as it happened, before it did in a way - her husband hadn't seen her in nearly an arc (as she'd experienced it) and in those few trials (as he had), Vega's ability with the sword had changed. She'd been good before, but now she moved with a calmness that was so fast, it seemed almost slow. She saw the Immortal of Acting move to attack Varlum - who had held her in place for a moment - and things happened simultaneously in Vega's head.

Remembering the time that she - and Hart - and Arlo had seen Daia be killed, Vega knew what she had to do. She had to mean it. That was all she had to do, too, she knew that. Mortals with weapons could kill Immortals, Vega did not doubt, for she had seen it. She'd thought about that a lot, since seeing what had happened and how her Immortal father had tricked Daia. Part of her wondered if only mortals could, and that was why he had tricked those involved back then. But more than anything, Vega was of the opinion that, if they doubted that they could, then they probably couldn't kill an Immortal.

But she'd seen it.

And doubt really wasn't her style.

She saw what happened with Friell - although if that was Friell she was the gusset of Audrae's knickers - and Vega wondered for a moment if that was her father - her Immortal father, that was. However, she didn't have time to worry about him and, besides, when Syroa thwapped him and he flew like a fly which had been hit with a bit of elastic, she figured that old charcoal-breath would have to be more flashy than that.

The thoughts all collided as Vega moved, singing as she did.

Syroa's attack on Varlum was quick, it was very quick. But Vega's song sped up Varlum, Arlo, and herself to half again their speed. Mingled with Varlum's already sped-up nature, Vega hoped it gave him more of a chance to act. But she wasn't taking any chances. Her sword of light flashed and Vega put every ounce of defensive skill she had into blocking Syroa's blow. Sword in hand, she could defend from all four directions if needed but she focused it into one. her sword would be there, blocking Syroa's hands as she attacked. If the block should work, Vega would continue it, swiping upwards with the aim of slicing the Immortal's hands off at the wrist.

There was no hesitation in her, and if Monkey-Brains wanted a fight, she'd picked the wrong place and the wrong time. Vega did not doubt for a moment that there were all sorts of people here who might give up their life to protect others. Syroa was betting on it too. But, Vega believed, what Syroa wasn't betting on was that there would be someone here who knew - without a shadow of a doubt - that she could kill the Immortal. Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong red-head, Vega thought.

She was aware of what was going on around her, that Gennadiya were ushering people out, making sure that they made their way. That others were doing the same, but Vega knew that Gennadiya was Good People, and she knew that she could keep her head about her. That was good.

Vega, for her part, stood and fought. She fought the Immortal who was hurting others - hurting those she knew and loved and cared about, hurting those she didn't know, and - come to that - hurting those who irritated her. It didn't matter to Vega. What mattered to Vega was that she stood, she fought, and she protected.

Off Topic

Vega is using this ability - it's her Tier 2 gateway ability:
"Vega is so in tune with the sword in her hand, and the rhythm of combat that she blocks a blow before it begins. She is able to defend herself - and those around her - from up to four opponents (one for each element) effortlessly. They must be close enough to her that they can hit her, but if they could reach her, even if they are attacking someone right next to her, Vega can defend, flawlessly. This is effortless and her sword is in place seemingly before they move, be it with hand to hand or weapon."

She's also using her MB ability to speed up herself, Arlo, Varlum to half as fast again.

[Pig Boy]

A Miracle of Peace

Elisabeth heard Varlum's roar, and before setting off, knocked loudly on the closet door. Sometime after she left, and she did make off fairly quickly to the main room before checking in on the person or persons inside, one of them stuck their head out. It was Elm, with a mouthful of scallops. He got pulled back into the closet by a feminine hand, Sasia's. Whether they'd be safe in the aftermath, that was anyone's guess from then.

Tiddles and Wink fled, terrified and rightly so by the appearance of a slightly annoyed Immortal. She kept her promise to keep safe, and found a hiding spot in a closet in the back halls of the School. There, she might notice a large smith eating scallops with a green-dressed woman in a mask.

Genna with her glowing hair lit the way for everyone who was trying to find an exit, joining Doran and Balthazar's efforts to keep everyone safe, along with Elisa. Genna lit the way, Doran calmed everyone, and managed to gather many of the people. But one of them stayed behind, Lesley. When Doran was gahering people to come with him, Lesley turned and shook his head, "Not now, son."

Doran would feel a momentary recognition as the mask slipped from Lesley's brow a bit, and he thought he saw someone he knew.



Hart, benefiting from proximity to Varlum's abilities, and the calming presence of Doran, managed much more courage than he was otherwise capable of. Whether Daia heard his prayer or not, was unknown as yet. If she was capable of hearing it, or not, surely one of her marked and daughter speaking to Daia would get her attention if nothing else would.

At any rate, he was still on the move, drawing a blade of deceit from a glass of wine nearby. Surely enough it formed, coalescing in his hand. It felt comfortable there, right as if it belonged there. Then Eihr spoke to him. Hart.

But he ignored him.

Then when Hart laid a hand on the Immortal's arm, offering to bring her along with her wrathling cargo to his dreamscape, she scoffed. "Fool thing, that notion. Do you really think having wrathlings rattling around in your dreamscape would help ANYTHING? Cowards retreat. You have a weapon, so fight while our feet are still on the ground."

So saying, she urged him to drive the blade into the net of wrathlings. Since he made the offer, the blade grazed the surface of one of the wrathling infused silverware, something strange began to happen. The fury contained within the wrathlings inverted. The concept of fury and wrath, turned inside out. Calm, and peace began to tear a maelstrom through the collected silverware, dishes, and candelabras. The mass of collected fury required an equal or greater force of peace and calm to pervade over it, and dispell it. This was a veritable explosion, if there was such a thing, of Peace.

The massive outpouring of Peace Domain caused a wave to wash over the entire room. And for a moment, only a moment caused Syroa to pause in her steps. As the spiritual energy was turned inside out, turning her very own wrathlings into something more akin to peacelings, Syroa felt shaken to her core.

The disguise of Lesley slipped away, revealing Ziell in his place. And as he revealed himself, he lent more of his own domain to that of the burgeoning peacelings.

Qylios, recognizing what was happening, let the net slip from the Peacelings. Enter Vega with her sword.

She moved quickly, faster than even Vivian with her lightning abilities powered by the grace of Ilaren. Swift and with grace, she defended Varlum against the attack, as Syroa tried to tear a piece of flesh from the large Ithecal. Pouring the domain necessary to enact her curse into the wound, just as Vega severed her hand.

A scream rent the air, which was then stifled as the Peacelings coalesced around Syroa, surrounding her with a peaceful aura, an antithesis the likes of which would put fear into even an Immortal creature.

Qylios did step back from Syroa, mindful that her very presence was giving more strength to the Immortal of Fury. Xiur meanwhile had departed the hall with Doran and Balthazar, Elisa and Gennadiya.

Then, all at once, Syroa began shrinking from the peacelings, her divine flesh shredded and torn by the power of her domain's antithesis, just as she came to embody Fury for the delivery of her curse to Varlum.

And as Vega's sword came clear of her wrist, then she was vulnerable.

Ziell stood by, waiting and watching, and allowing the peacelings to grow and gain power from his very presence.

She was there, ready for the next blow to land and trapped by the peacelings, as Vega's sword came clean of the wound delivered to the Immortal.

!	Message from: Pig Boy
	Heya, so Arlo, Vivian, and Varlum are left to post. This is still their turn, not reseting with this action.

[Vivian Shiryu]

Everything happened so fast once the dancing got underway. Vivian had been right, the person playing games had not been happy to have her game interrupted, and Syroa lashed out in rage. Vivian was not overly familiar with the Immortals, but Syroa was one of the few she knew about. Faldrun was the enemy of Rharne, but despite her blood ties with the Immortal of Turmoil, her enmity with Faldrun was purely a professional thing. Even despite the Flameborn attacks, she had no personal grudge with Faldrun, if he were indeed behind them. Those attacks were acts of war, and she understood war. True, she hated every life lost and felt it like a personal wound, but she did not let the war itself become personal. If she did that, especially as a commander, she was more likely to lead her knights to death and failure than she was to victory. But Syroa was a personal enemy. Syroa had cursed Zvezdana, and the curse had killed her friend, despite Vivian's success that night at Jorick's Keep. Zvezdana's death was the failure that haunted Vivian for arcs, until Ilaren had given her the chance to represent the Immortal of Lightning in Cassion's Gambit. That chance had led to her own reforging and Vivian had come out of it reborn, no longer a failed Rynmerian rebel, but a true Lightning Knight of Rharne.

When Syroa started to speak, Vivian stopped dancing as things parsed through her buzzed mental state. Vivian wasn't truly drunk, not yet, but Palenon blessing still reacted to her semi-intoxicated state. Her reflexes were slower, and it took her a moment longer than it normally would have to register the demon that had appeared in their midst. Fortunately, her siblings were sober and Varlum attacked Syroa, earning her ire. That could have been a disaster for the Ithecal, but by that point, Vivian and Vega were getting into gear. Vivian called Fins and the shark dog formed into her Warden Armor and the Veshlu-themed Warden longsword that were granted to her by Lovalus. Neither were necessarily as good here as they had been against the Doomernickel, but they were better than nothing.

However, the alcohol in her system in her system hampered her lightning powers as well, leaving the Inquistor slower than usual. If she had been on her own, she'd have been too slow for her brother. Fortunately, Vega was there and as fast as ever. The redhead wielded a sword of light and severed Syroa's hand before the demon could do real damage to Varlum, as a wave of peace turned the demons own minions against her. Vivian arrived a second after that, keeping her Brightgleam Shield up in front of her, standing between her siblings and the demon. "Cover your ears, now!" she snapped at her siblings and anyone else who was close to them. Then she took a deep breath and called upon the Palenon power of Thunderous Bellow. "Attention, all Lightning Knights of Ilaren! This is Agent Vivian Shiyru. All Knights working security for the Mummer's Ball are to secure the non-combatants and ensure their safety at all costs! Syroa is on at the ball and has proved hostile to Rharne's people!" she said, using Thunderous Bellow to carry her voice throughout the entire building and quite possibly beyond.

Her throat was incredibly sore after that shout, but she ignored it and spoke again, now directly to Syroa. "Of course you would know that story, demon." she snarled, her voice left raspy by the use of her powers. "But I am no longer the weakling who failed to save Zvezdana from your curse! I am a Lightning Knight of Rharne, Blessed by Ilaren herself. And in Ilaren's name, you will do no such evil here!" she shouted, her voice ringing with conviction. She did not have the full range of her mobility, so she did not attack as she normally might have, not with Syroa so clearly on guard for the next attack. Instead, she pressed forward, her shield raised for the demons next move. Vivian wasn't sober, true, but she wasn't fully drunk either. Her mind still worked and while her reflexes weren't as fast as normal, they were still faster than your average persons, and now she was stronger and more durable than usual. Syroa would not find her an easy mark to kill or to curse.

[Pig Boy]

Syroa

"Oh yess..." Syroa chattered at Vivian, turning to face the woman as she approached. Although Syroa was unable to mount an escape, she could very much still move around in the local area, despite the skin of peacelings that were tearing at her ethereal flesh. "Jorick's Keep, your finest hour if I'm not mistaken..."

Syroa allowed herself a smile at the fury inside Vivian. It gave her some semblance of strength, yet still not enough to break free of her temporary prison. "Oh but how you've transformed how you've reinvented yourself and now wear a glorious new mask, atop the visage of a rebel." She inched forward, hindered but not slowed by the Peacelings infused cutlery. Her breaths came in ragged starts and finishes, until she was nearly breathing down on Vivian, who hid behind her magical shield.

"Do your lightning knights know that they serve a traitor? That the woman they follow is but another costume, another lie?" Syroa growled, and though the severed hand that contained much of the fury tasked to the creation of a Sessfiend, she still had strength left in her other. She brought it to bear now on Vivian, attacking her shield with abandon, tearing and rending at the spiritual barrier separating them both. "Your Sessbitch Zvezdana lives still in my own personal Troupe!"

And with a final furious swipe, she swept away the barrier that separated them. In another moment, she would probably strike Vivian herself.



Doran, Balthazar, Elisa, and Gennadiya are in the hallway at this moment, helping to calm people as they guide them outside. The rain has remarkably cleared, and stars begin to show in the sky. But then, as the people are mostly exiting the School, they find someone walking into it. She is a middle-aged woman, dark complected, wearing beads in her clothing. She walks with purpose toward the halls, and even walks past the four of them as they help organize the evacuation.

She enters with a smile for each of them, and a nod.

!	Message from: Pig Boy
	Still Arlo and Varlum to post, if I'm not missing someone. Once those two have posted, I will post, and then we'll see where we're at.

[Varlum]

Everything happened so fast.

Despite Ralaith's power speeding up the time around Varlum he felt slow compared to Syroa. But more importantly, both seemed slow compared to Vega. Her sword prevented Varlum from harm, slicing the hand off of Syroa and knocking her back a step or two as the Ithecal took a step back out of reflex, watching with a hiss as Syroa fell to the floor and started talking to Vivian while the Peacelings weakened her. Truth be told, Varlum didn't know what was going on here, what Syroa could really do or what the peacelings were. But that was situation normal with the company he kept. Weird shit happened around him and his friends far more frequently than he cared to admit, what was one more batshit crazy Immortal to add to the list?

Vivian gave orders to the Knights in a voice loud and echoing, Varlum wincing for a moment. Yet he did nothing but watch as the two talked. This was Vivian's talk to have, her tale to live through. She gave her orders, she talked to the Immortal and soon enough it led to violence. The moment Syroa began to speak Varlum activated a power he rarely used of his Mortalborn abilities. Soul of Dragons wrapped around him, smoldering, fiery scales with spiritual wings along his back, spreading wide like that of a dragon yet knocking nothing over because of their spiritual nature. But what mattered was the sharpness of his claws, the extra damage he could do as he was coated with burning scales, appearing more like a dragon than he had before.

Time after time, Varlum had seen the Immortals use and hurt people he loved. Vri had hurt Faith, one of the people he treasured above all else. Faldrun had hurt his family in every way he could, had hurt Auya and forced her into a life she never wanted to live - a life that had led her to death. Pier and Pre cursed him after everything he had endured because the power would prove useful, but never thought to ask for permission before using his body like a canvas. Yet all of them bar Faldrun deserved forgiveness, all of them had earned that much after all. But no matter how much forgiveness they deserved his hatred towards them grew more and more with each Immortal he met that had the same malicious or selfish plans. He would never hurt Vri, Pier or Pre. Even if he wanted to, none of them stood in front of him.

But this bitch did - and she attacked his sister.

The moment Syroa began attacking Vivian the Ithecal charged forward, reaching for everything he had. Wind defiance pushed his swing, claws moving with all the strength and power they could as he aimed to slash across her head. But hitting her would not be enough. Great Minds, a power Ralaith had given him, helped defeat a powerful Lich like Ellasin. But Syroa was different. Syroa was provoking them, encouraging them to fight her and lose their cool. So with every blow that struck her Varlum showed her a memory of great sadness or happiness. As the first hit would try and land he pushed the thought of meeting Auya, protecting her on his first walk home. Then Faith comforting him after the war. Then a night with Elisabeth under the stars. All of the memories weren't going to fuel her desire for rage. They would diminish them.

As a final failsafe he activated Calm Mind, making himself immune to taunting and provocation, now only attacking how and when he desired to. He was no longer merely angry. He was pissed. He would do anything he could to protect his sister, do anything to protect the people at the ball - and do anything to show every Immortal that wanted to use him what would happen. All he could do was hope Ethelynda and Ralaith understood why he had to attack one of their own. Everything he had done so far was to protect people that mattered, innocent people that deserved nothing but respect and peace. If he was going to create the peacekeeping initiative he promised Ethelynda he would create, this was their start. Today was their founding day.

If any of his blows were enough to get her to the floor, Varlum would summon a tower shield of Ethelynda with his Noble's Shield ability. With all his strength, Defiance still boosting his arms to push harder, he would slam it down onto her head until the shield shattered, then continue with his claws. If she didn't stay on the floor, however, or if she never got knocked down to begin with he would bite and slash as viciously as he could. He was the Mortalborn of Ferocity and Violence and she had tried to hurt someone he loved, had shown them a play to taunt them and had been prepared to attack innocents to prove a point. So he aimed for her head with tooth and claw, willing to bite it off if he had to.

Now, if he had anything to say about it, she died.

[Arlo Creede]

Even the most loving of couples, in the most harmonious seeming of relationships had their disagreements. Arlo and his wife were no different. He'd known before he'd put forward his misgivings about the notion of resurrecting the Immortal in question through dance, that Vega would be disappointed. Maybe even angry with him. But as events played out around them and even the cutlery came to life and began its malicious dance, he remained convinced that the decision to sit out had been the correct one. But who knew for sure? Hindsight by it's very definition, was just that.

Either way, things went from bad to worse in an instant and Immortals, as they tended to do in their own good time, began to reveal themselves. For better or worse. Calls went out to evacuate the premises, while others stepped in to oppose the one who'd revealed herself as Syroa. If there'd been any young children left nearby, that their guardians or parents hadn't already seen to, Arlo would have scooped them up by the armful and hustled them out. But he wasn't keen on rushing for the door himself. Especially because he knew Vega as well as the back of his own hand. She would not.

It was a shame that he'd had to surrender his weapons at the door. In retrospect, yes, hindsight, while the justification could have been made, he'd had his misgivings. He'd passed from one room to another then which meant that wherever his sword was, it wouldn't have been in his line of sight. If it had been, he could have summoned it into his hands from a distance. With events moving as quickly as they were, there was no time to waste in going to look for it. Besides, he had other weapons at his disposal, if much less elegant than swordplay.

Varlum roared, Syroa struck out, Vega, predictably, leaped to his defense so quickly that her speed rivaled Syroa's own. Lucky for him, Vega's methods extended to him and others, and lit a fire under his own feet. Syroa's attack on Varlum was muted as a result, her impending escape thwarted or prevented, and just as Vivian had done, Arlo took advantage of the opening. Even as he swiftly moved into the fray. He took advantage of the opening, that in swiping away the barrier that Vivian had thrown up, Syroa had provided herself.

Arlo was a master with the sword, and with the bow. But also of acrobatic maneuvers, and importantly, in this case, of a skill that his Immortal Father might have approved of the most. At least it was the one Cassion had most frequently dabbled in, during those times they'd adventured together. Unarmed combat. Brawling, in particular. Due to his father's blessing, he was half again as strong as the strongest of men, and less likely to be seriously injured. It helped quite a lot.

What he'd do was a very big risk. But then again, as a mortalborn, Risk was one of his domains. He was ordinarily graceful through his practice of acrobatics, but could become more so by tapping into that very domain. All in. As he ducked into the opening provided by Syroa's focus on Vivian, Arlo took on many of the aspects of a big cat. Quickness of the like that Vega had already given him, gracefulness, flexibility, followed by a swift and crushing blow, hopefully catching Syroa off her guard while her focus was elsewhere. Risk. All in. No point in half measures. A killing blow to the face, or if not, at least brutal enough to allow another to finish the job.

[Pig Boy]

The Mummer's Ball: Madame Leona's Pageant

The civilians were safe for the moment, and calm. Betsy was among them, as were all the staff of the school.

Doran would hear Syroa's voice in his mind, as he accompanied Gennadiya, Elisabeth, Balthazar, and Xiur outside. She was putting out a call to all of her sessers in close proximity to the ball now, but personalized her own message to Doran. "After all the gifts I've showered upon you, all the truths I've laid bare before your eyes, you abandon me to the butcher's cleaver? How could you Doran? Come back, save me, and I will make you my most adored and blessed companion... Remember the times we've had?"

Xiur looked cautiously at Doran then, as if sensing the presence of another Immortal talking to their marked. "Doran?"

Syroa spoke only once more, "Come back, save me from these spoil-sports and butchers. But before you return, strike down Xiur, it is he who is the head conspirator who brought this about!"

A long blade appeared, mysteriously in Doran's hand. Whatever Doran did, it was his to decide and the others to react.



In the closet, with Tiddles and Wink, the two lovebirds were sharing scallops between kisses and caresses.
A few moments after the twins entered the space, Sasia broke off her kiss with Elm, and nearly tripped over the twins in a rush to the closet door. "I'm sorry, I have to get to my friend! She's in trouble!"

Ethelm was sitting there, watching as she retreated from the closet space. After a few moments passed, and the sound of her heels tapping against the hallways faded, he sighed, and thrust the plate of scallops toward Seira, "Scallops?"



Syroa's covering of peacelings contracted with every blow that Varlum rained down upon her. Every blow infused with memories of peace and serenity seemed to have the intended effect of shortening her life span. She screamed in futility as he pounded the Immortal further in toward herself, and Ziell's newly acquired peacelings, which had their conceptual makeup inverted by Hart's blade of deceit only limiting her ability to reform herself.

Then, Arlo jumped into the fray, and delivered a crushing blow to her head. This all had the effect of thwarting any further attempts on Vivian, as Syroa crawled across the stage, reaching for Ti'atha and the Lions of Daia, no longer attempting to fight for her life, but willing to drag the more vulnerable on the stage to the Beneath.

But then, Daia, and Arlo, Hart, and Vega would recognise her from the Palace of Lions, entered the ballroom. Her every motion as graceful as a dancer's steps. Absently, as she approached the stage, she ducked to the floor and picked up Syroa's severed hand. Ziell, as he witnessed his beloved Daia returning to him, almost let his concentration fade for a moment, giving a window through which Syroa found new strength to reform some of her body, the peacelings expanding around her, almost straining to contain her.

But then, Daia, holding the severed immortal flesh, almost ran back toward Ziell, smiling and laughing. This strengthened his domains, being in close proximity to another Immortal. Qylios also joined his side, tripling his strength, which was pooled into the domain of Peace around those enchanted silverware.

Syroa let out an unearthly scream as she rose to her feet, spindly wings shooting through the Peacelings encasing her form, devilish tail shooting through as well. With a swift motion, she grabbed Ti'atha by the neck, and held her aloft, ready to disembowel.

!	Message from: Pig Boy
	Well, you all have one post you can make. Make it count! Turns reset on this round.

[Elisabeth Black]

Doran's instructions were met with a quick nod, fully intending on doing as he asked…. but then she looked at Balthazar and instantly understood something was wrong. In a room of sheer pandemonium, he was just…. sitting there. It wasn't the Balthazar she knew. He'd be in the middle of things, doing what he could.

Balthazar didn't just sit there.

“Doran, I’ll be right there. Something's wrong with Balthazar….”

His face betrayed something she had never seen before upon it – and never wished to see upon it again - whatever it was, it hurt her heart. Her chest…constricted. It hurt. Nothing was making sense other than what Doran told her to do. Yes, she needed to help others…but she needed to help Balthazar first. Maybe that was wrong of her, to put him before others but sometimes a situation just was what it was.

She tried to keep up with what was going on in the room, but her attention was on him. Well, to be fair, it was also on the silverware that kept trying to attack the pair too. Using whatever she could find on the table, a spare wine bottle or two, Elisabeth batted away the few pieces that came at them until, it seemed, they were contained for the time being. Mostly.

Balthazar gave her something of an explanation, that didn't explain much at all other than Varlum had been attacked. Looking up at the stage, she saw him, surrounded by others. He was there and seemed relatively fine, but it was hard to know from where she was. She was being violently pulled in numerous directions, but a wave of calm came over her. Elisabeth didn't know about Doran's abilities, but they helped her at the exact right moment.

She didn't have time for anything…but she had to make time because Balthazar needed her to. Kneeling in front of the chair where he sat, she took his face into her hands and spoke to him, gently - but firmly – with every ounce of belief she had in her. "Balthazar, look at me. Focus on me. Just you and me. Remember the first time we met? All the millions of questions I asked you. The brawls. Our talks. Oranges and lavender. The stars and snow? I had no hope when we met. You gave me hope. I'm here…because of you. You showed me I was so much more than what I thought I was. That I was deserving of being so much more. I'm giving that hope back to you now. Whatever is going on in that mind of yours, we will figure it out, together. You aren't alone. But I need you to come back to me right now. Please."

She searched his gaze, looking for any sign that she had gotten through to him. It was odd it took that night for her to seriously consider lifting her thoughts to those that could possible help her…but she would do anything to help him. Stars and Snow. Stars and Snow. They calmed her. Her mind raced. And then she found the names she was looking for. “Xiur. Ziell. Please help me help him.” Elisabeth had already lifted a prayer to Ethelynda but this was different. She needed a different type of help now…

And, of course, an errant fork chose that moment to try to spike her in the head. Grabbing it out of the tangle of dark tresses, Elisabeth launched it across the room in frustration.

Gennadiya's hair was glowing…and there was a net of some sort. And Rasha-whatever was yelling. Varlum was yelling. Vivian was yelling – loud – about Syroa. Vega was wielding a sword of some sort. Knights were being called into action. She didn't know who most anyone was.

And Immortals? Was it true?

The calmness still flowed through her, but it didn't change the fact that she had very little good information to go off, other than Doran's instructions. It was then she felt a hand on her back, an unexplained spark biting her just a bit. Balthazar asked her to leave with the others, saying that he was going to stay. Whirling around to face him, the look given was one he would not have seen before.

Determination.

He had never witnessed Elisabeth in training, or battle. He didn't know that side of her – the side Varlum and Praetorum knew. It was time for an introduction.

"Not. Going. To. Happen."

It was firm and decisive – and drawn out for emphasis. She wasn't leaving him behind. She wasn't leaving anyone behind. There was nothing else to discuss. She would help Doran because he asked her to. She would help people get to safety because it was the right thing to do. And then she would do what she could with everything else. Grabbing the stowed steak knife out of her dress, she held it…but nothing else. If someone interfered with her helping people leave, she would defend herself and them. It wasn't her sword, but it would have to do.

But there was something else. Another emotion underneath it all.

Rage.

Doran's ability was still soothing her but people she cared about were being hurt. Elisabeth didn't know by what or who, but they were. They were threatening everyone there, forces seen and unseen. Elisabeth didn't know yet what she was going to do about that, but something would be done. She had work to do first.

The night had started with such promise. Anxiety, yes. Nervousness, yes – but promise. Her very first formal event. Well, she had formed an opinion on that.

"I think…I fucking hate formal events" she growled under her breath…

Vivian, Vega, Varlum and a man she didn't know were battling some version of Rasha. She didn't care who Rasha was – sucked to be Rasha. Elisabeth was familiar with the abilities of two of the combatants. She wanted to fight. She wanted to help and make sure Varlum was ok…but it wasn't her place right then, as hard as that was to know and understand. Varlum would want her to be helping get people out. She knew it in her soul, so she let that be her guiding light, and hopefully, she'd have a chance to yell at him later. Or cry. Or both.

And then he transformed into what appeared to be something of a….dragon?

Huh. Okay. That was new.

She stayed by Balthazar's side and ushered people towards Genna's glowing path marker hair until the man that had been with Doran urged them out the door with the last of the people…but intending to return to the room once that task was seen through.

Once in the foyer, the woman that passed her, Elisabeth did try to stop her amongst the confusion of the moment. "Please, it's not safe in there right now..."

[Vega]

Combat being what it was, Vega was focused on what was happening. She was aware of the environment, of the people who were with her, of the dangers and the opportunities.

She had cut Syroa's hand off, and then things continued to move. The stupid monkey brain eater didn't know when she was beaten. Of course, as far as Vega was concerned, Syroa was completely beaten. She knew that there were people leaving the place, being ushered out by the others. Her focus was here, and her focus was now. She had been, briefly, prepared to let it go at the simple fact of cutting off the Immortal's hand, but things were not to be that way this trial. Instead, Syroa continued her attack and, this time, it was on Vivian.

At that point, Vega grew irked. Embers and sparks began to fly off her as her temper flared, and her eyes swirled colours. She heard Vivian's voice, saw what Varlum and Arlo did - and later, she'd be telling her husband off for the punch, but right then, all that happened was that the glowing band around her arm and Arlo's flashed bright. It meant that they worked together much more seamlessly. They were more than able to move together, and Vega knew where he was, what he did, what he planned. He knew the same about her. She moved, as Syroa walked forward, Vega moved with her, not stopping or pausing as the Immortal first screamed and then began to crawl. Vega wouldn't kill a crawling person, but this was a split second, and she knew that it would soon be over - one way or another. It was just which way it went that was still unsure.

She hoped - still - that the stupid Monkey-Brain Eater had the sense that Vega had been born with.

She saw that Daia walked in, and her heart soared in pleasure. But. "No time! Focus!" For all that she wanted to stop and sing and dance with glee, people were in danger and would die if they didn't keep their focus. "Hold the line!" she called, using her Qylios-granted ability of that name. Again, she hoped that Qylios' presence made a difference, but either way, Vega was moving, had been moving since she cut off Syroa's hand, and the very moment she could, and the moment that Syroa gave her the slightest reason to, Vega would kill. "Together! We have to work together!"

Syroa screamed and rose up and her wings opened. As Syroa's arm shot out to grab Ti'atha by the neck, Vega didn't hesitate. She'd moved with the Immortal, and as Syroa stopped crawling and stood, and as Syroa's hand moved, so did Vega's and she moved her sword. It was her aim to do what she knew she should have done in the beginning.

She was aiming to kill, full of intent and entirely with the intention of protecting those who Syroa would harm. She moved her sword in the same way that she had previously, making it seem that she was aiming for Syroa's arm again - made more realistic by the fact that she aimed for the arm which was - currently - engaged in grabbing Ti'atha. At the very last second, however, her sword of light spun and twisted, and Vega aimed to separate Syroa's head from her shoulders by slicing through the neck.

Utilising every ounce of strength, every bit of skill she had, and for the protection of the mortals - and the Immortals - present, Vega prayed to Qylios and Xiur for the courage to do what had to be done so that every mortal here had hope.

[Pig Boy]

The Twilight of Rage

For all of Vega's speed and skill, she wasn't fast enough to intercept Ti'atha's attacker. And as Syroa's injured arm lengthened and sharpened into a singular claw, it swept through the air, with the intent to destroy the mortalborn she held in her grasp... Only to hit thin air, as Ti'atha used the locket to transport herself to Hart's side.

Syroa only had a moment to grasp her failure, before Vega's sword swiped through her neck, pinging against the peacelings silver shells, and coming out the other end, beheading her. Then the Immortal's flesh contracted, fell in on itself. In one final exhalation of fury, her scream nearly deafened all present and nearby.

Then, the peacelings congealed and melted with the fury of her defeat. They formed a singular candelabra of silver, which hummed with the power of peace. All thoughts of violence and rage swept from the area in a cold wave of wintry wind.

Syroa, the Immortal of Fury, Transformation, Acting, and Lust was no longer to terrorize the realm of Mortalkind. Her power was broken.



Before Elisabeth even had a chance to stop the dark-complected woman who entered the School, she was already gone.



Ti'atha coughed a bit, as she recovered from the stranglehold that Syroa had inflicted on her. However, she recovered as she sighted her mother among the Immortals left in the room, and ran to embrace the mother of lions.

Leona, and the other lions who'd been crouching behind the stage, hiding from Syroa's fury, began filtering out into the open. Leona turned to Arlo, "Is it... really over? Or is this another trick?"

!	Message from: Pig Boy
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