Novama
One Thousand Club
Mentions:
Holyhalo
Solirus
Darkbloom
Sepokku
saxon
OOC: Holyhalo skip 4. solirus skip 1, saxon skip 1. Make final posts. The party has saved the festival and perhaps the local region becoming local heroes in the eyes of the sage, beastman, and the battlefield fae among any others that know of their effort.
Time: evening clear sky
Weather: gentle summer breeze
Cooldown:
TLDR: Old beastman leaves the barriier (by force if needed) and sings to the undead with the aid of the party and puts them to rest.
Post Listening:
At the mouth of the cave, the ancient Beastman samurai cast a long, mournful gaze toward the glistening barrier erected by the priestess, Eris. The priestess's magic was undoubtedly powerful, and there was a certain comfort to be found within the translucent confines of her light cathedral. Yet, his honor and duty lay beyond the barrier, in the night-soaked battlefield that housed his fallen brethren. The faint whispers of their unrest called to him, a silent plea that tugged at his warrior's heart.
He felt the touch of Sant's magic, a soothing balm that seeped into his old, battered body, knitting together worn muscles and rekindling the fire of his youthful strength. The tick-tock of time magic, the rhythm of Echo's spear against her shield, and the eerie sound invoked by Thomas— it all swirled around him, blending into a symphony that stirred his spirit. A song of valor and brotherhood echoed within him, reverberating through his every fiber and spurring him into action.
The samurai stepped forward, stepping through Eris's barrier and into the cold night beyond. As he moved, his voice raised in the song of his people, a haunting melody that resonated with the sounds from the party's own attempts to mimic the Beastman's chant. The once-weary samurai now stood tall, the song of his kin ringing out into the night, challenging the ominous tide of undead sweeping across the field.
The effect was almost immediate. The horde slowed, their relentless advance faltering as the song echoed over them. The vile purple glow that clung to the undead like a cloak of malice began to wane, replaced by a light that was pure and white. One by one, the undead started to fade, their spectral forms dissolving into the night until nothing remained but the quiet whispers of the wind.
Once the last of the undead faded away, the samurai turned back toward the cave. There was a new light in his eyes, gratitude mingling with the echo of ancient sorrows. With a deep, respectful bow, he thanked the party. Their courage and assistance had not only saved him but had also finally given his fallen comrades the peace they so long deserved. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a raw scrape of relief and gratitude against the silence of the night.
OOC: Holyhalo skip 4. solirus skip 1, saxon skip 1. Make final posts. The party has saved the festival and perhaps the local region becoming local heroes in the eyes of the sage, beastman, and the battlefield fae among any others that know of their effort.
Time: evening clear sky
Weather: gentle summer breeze
Cooldown:
TLDR: Old beastman leaves the barriier (by force if needed) and sings to the undead with the aid of the party and puts them to rest.
Post Listening:
Tri-Nation Point - Old Battlefield
At the mouth of the cave, the ancient Beastman samurai cast a long, mournful gaze toward the glistening barrier erected by the priestess, Eris. The priestess's magic was undoubtedly powerful, and there was a certain comfort to be found within the translucent confines of her light cathedral. Yet, his honor and duty lay beyond the barrier, in the night-soaked battlefield that housed his fallen brethren. The faint whispers of their unrest called to him, a silent plea that tugged at his warrior's heart.
He felt the touch of Sant's magic, a soothing balm that seeped into his old, battered body, knitting together worn muscles and rekindling the fire of his youthful strength. The tick-tock of time magic, the rhythm of Echo's spear against her shield, and the eerie sound invoked by Thomas— it all swirled around him, blending into a symphony that stirred his spirit. A song of valor and brotherhood echoed within him, reverberating through his every fiber and spurring him into action.
The samurai stepped forward, stepping through Eris's barrier and into the cold night beyond. As he moved, his voice raised in the song of his people, a haunting melody that resonated with the sounds from the party's own attempts to mimic the Beastman's chant. The once-weary samurai now stood tall, the song of his kin ringing out into the night, challenging the ominous tide of undead sweeping across the field.
The effect was almost immediate. The horde slowed, their relentless advance faltering as the song echoed over them. The vile purple glow that clung to the undead like a cloak of malice began to wane, replaced by a light that was pure and white. One by one, the undead started to fade, their spectral forms dissolving into the night until nothing remained but the quiet whispers of the wind.
Once the last of the undead faded away, the samurai turned back toward the cave. There was a new light in his eyes, gratitude mingling with the echo of ancient sorrows. With a deep, respectful bow, he thanked the party. Their courage and assistance had not only saved him but had also finally given his fallen comrades the peace they so long deserved. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a raw scrape of relief and gratitude against the silence of the night.