Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Fountainbleu

as written by Ronin

Robert crossed his arms over his chest. "We have Kelve's blessing on this. I don't think we'll have too much to worry about with a master backing us up." The knight sighed. "I can't say that I like it, but it's not like the Order hasn't worked with metahumans before." Lowgrade wizards and spell casters mostly, but Robert didn't mention that part. An animancer was a whole different caliber of metahuman, both in power level and heritage.

"...how would we get rid of him, anyway?" Robert mused, "...I guess we could throw that cloak of his in a dryer with a red sock." A nod. "Might do the trick. 'The Order of Pink'."

As the paladins spoke, Noah would feel a strong spiritual residue surrounding the circle. The woman's tortured soul left a trail to follow, leading away from the alleyway around the bend.
 
as written by Script

When a soul passed on to the next world, or into the void, it normally left behind residual traces of anima in its former vessel. This woman's body, however, held none - a telltale sign. "Her soul has been drained," Noah announced, his eyes still shut. "There's no doubt that whatever the killer did here was a form of black animancy. Not one I'm familiar with, though. It looks like they've mingled it with other arts, somehow?"

The use of blood magic with black animancy wasn't unheard of, but neither was it common even amongst the already rare use of each art. Both had strong links to utilising the power of a person's life force, but interweaving them was a delicate and dangerous process for two already taxing arts.

'The work of the enemy we seek, undoubtedly.' Noah made a point of not reacting when Aurore spoke. She certainly had a habit of pointing out the obvious. It seemed to be a paladin thing.

His eyes still closed, he lifted his palm. "Whatever vessel they used to store the soul should have left a trace. Containing a human soul anywhere other than its owners' body is an imperfect process, so if we're lucky, and it hasn't been too long, then there'll be ..."

And there it was. First in the circle, and then leading away down the alley. Noah's eyes snapped open, and he rose, gesturing down the alley towards the residential area. "A trail. It's faint, but I can feel it - barely."

'Don't let our quarry slip away. You've little time? Then we should move now. Decisive action here could save lives.'

Nodding almost imperceptibly, Noah turned back to Robert and Perrin. "If we don't follow it now, it'll fade completely, and even a better seer than me won't be able to pick it up."
 
as written by Ronin

Robert blinked. Here he was, jokingly requesting a trail of blood, and the warden had procured just that out of thin air. Well, trail of spirit. Anima. Whatever it was he was following.

"We've no time to lose, then," Robert nodded in agreement. He moved to follow the warden, Peregrine likely in tow.

The trail lead Noah around the corner, behind a flat, leading to a covered manhole in the street. It continued into the sewer below.

Robert made a face as they approached. "Charming. I wish they'd pick more aesthetic places to hide away. A green house or a luxury hotel, perhaps."
 
as written by Script

"This is where the impracticalities of wearing white come into play," Noah remarked dryly, unfastening the clasp of his cloak and walking to the side of the street, where he draped it over a garden wall.

"You don't expect that to be there when you get back, do you?" Perrin noted, raising an eyebrow. Fontainebleu wasn't exactly the best neighbourhood, and even in the best neighbourhoods, a fancy cloak left lying around in the open wouldn't last long before being stolen and pawned.

"Have you ever tried to get sewage out of a white cloak? I'd rather someone else has it." Noah grimaced. "Trust me, there are plenty of spares back at the Academae." He paced back over to the manhole cover and looked down at it with all the enthusiasm of ... well, a man about to jump into a poorly maintained sewage system.

'A warrior must face all manner of challenges, boy. Not all of them are enemies.'

That was easy for Aurore to say. Noah couldn't help but note that spirits didn't generally have a particularly notable sense of smell.

"Well... you first," Perrin grinned. "Since we're following you, and all."

Noah shot him a glare that could have felled a titan. "The boldness of paladins continues to amaze me," he remarked dryly, casually stomping on the edge of the manhole. The cover flipped up into the air, and Noah caught it in one light-wreathed hand like it weighed no more than a frisbee.

"See you down there." He flashed a satisfied smile at Peregrine's wide-eyed stare, then hopped nimbly into the darkness, leaving the manhole cover to clatter to rest just next to the entrance.

There was a long silence before Peregrine spoke again. "I ... did not know they could do stuff like that."
 
as written by Ronin

"I'm more surprised he went down first to begin with," Robert grinned. "C'mon, Perrin. Can't let the Soulcaller think he's outdone us." The paladin unclasped his own cloak - a hardy, absorbent fabric made in the blood-and-black colors of the Order - and lay it across the wall next to the Warden's. It looked smaller than the Warden's, lacked the hood, and appeared to be made of a rougher kind of material. "Some fortunate pedestrian is going to be very warm tonight," he remarked, "or very drunk, if he pawns these things for half of what they're worth. In either case, I can't imagine it'll be much use down there."

Checking his ammunition, Robert drew his Lawkeeper and procured a roundlight from his belt. He dialed the portable, circular light source into a wide cone and fixed it to the frame of his weapon. "As above, so below..." He took a quick breath of clean air before plunging into the shadows.

---

The sewers were dark, cold and stony. Walkways lined either side of the stretching tunnels with water running the middle. Small lights were fixed to the walls every few hundred meters. Some worked, others flickered on and off, many didn't shine at all. Water dripped from pipes and through the cracks in the stone, prickling the cobblestone, warbling in the far echoes of the tunnels and returning cold and sharp and hollow.

Noah's trail lead him north. They walked for a few minutes before they passed what looked like an opening in the tunnel wall diverging from the main walkway, leering into a new corridor. It looked far older, the walls crude and jagged - more cave than man-made structure.

"The catacombs," Robert remarked, "I think they intersect with the sewers every now and then. Virtually anything underground in this city does. Damn thing is too big." He made a face. "I hope our search doesn't lead us down there, Warden."

It didn't, the main trail continued north, but Noah would notice another signature emanating from the catacombs. It came out of the cave and joined the central trail. Unlike the agonized soul of the woman, this anima residue felt... colder. Subdued. It wasn't unlike the soul of an animal, yet it burned with the brightness of a sentient being.
 
as written by Script

"No," Noah shook his head. "It carries straight on... but something joined the killer here. From the catacombs. Something leaking anima enough to make a trail. If I had to guess... some sort of soulbound construct."

Peregrine came to a halt behind him, his own lawkeeper drawn and lit to match Robert's. "A construct from the catacombs?" He grimaced. "I can take a guess at its nature, then."

The Warden nodded. "Necro-animancy. This guy's just working his way down the list of taboos like it's a to-do-list."

Though his pistol hung at his hip, Noah ignored it. Without the specialised rounds of a paladin, a pistol would do him no good against a walking corpse. The warden extended his hand to the side and spread his palm as though reaching for something, and a glow bloomed from it. The light rapidly spread outwards, and in a flash, it took on the form of a luminous longsword. A small rush of displaced air ruffled his hair as the weapon came into being from nothing.

"We should keep moving," was all he said before he set off again, the his blade now lighting his way just as well as the paladin's torches.
 
as written by Ronin

Robert looked curiously at the sword which materialized in Noah's hand. The light surrounding the weapon seemed to glow from within, the subtle radiance shimmering through the weapon like a distant star. It almost reminded Robert of the consecrated swords wielded in the late days of the Caer Skirmishes, though he knew there was no way Noah's weapon could be consecrated. Monastic 'Holy Energy' burned anyone not attuned to its frequency, and conditioning was only possible through an extremely painful procedure known as 'sanctification' which occurred on a proselyte's graduation night. Noah was likely wielding some animantic energy. Soul juice or something like that.

The path continued for some time before veering right. Two service tunnels lay before them, separated from the main canal. The soul signature of the woman, curiously, dissected both ways. There were now two paths to follow. The signature of the souldbound construct proceeded with the leftmost pathway.

The service tunnels were not lit; they roamed deep and dark into the stone, descending lower into the earth.

Robert growled as they approached the diverging tunnels. "Let me guess..."
 
as written by Script

"The trail splits," Noah murmured, frowning. "I don't know how that's possible. You can't ... split a soul gem." Or could you? Noah would be the first to admit he didn't know much about black animancy, beyond the basics needed to know what to expect when fighting someone who was wielding it.

He pointed down the left tunnel. "The construct went that way, but the traces of the woman's soul ... go both ways. I'm not sure how. One might be a decoy?"

Peregrine folded his arms, frowning. "Perhaps the construct is carrying a second vessel? Which would mean that the killer went right. But we can't ignore the construct, all the same. I say we split up. I'll head left, assuming it's just the construct that way, but if I run into danger I'll radio in before engaging."

"Is that safe?" Noah frowned. "You won't be able to track it if there's another split. And if the second trail is just a decoy, you could run into the killer as well..."

Perrin grinned. "None of this is safe, Warden. We're not trained for safe. But I'm not about to be reckless."

"If you say so..." Noah didn't sound entirely convinced, but he nodded.

'It's a paladin's duty not to leave evil unanswered, Noah. As long as there is an enemy at the end of each trail, both must be followed.'
 
as written by Ronin

"The light go with you, Perrin," he tapped his gauntlet, tuning the radio on the underside of his steel bracer. "Call the moment you see something. We'll do the same."

---

Peregrine's path lead him down a winding stone staircase into the deep darkness of the sewers. Bodies lay scattered on the floor as he reached the base, wrapped in moldy linens and rotted beyond the point of smelling. Swept in from the catacombs during one of the flooded rains, most likely. Perrin would have to step over them as he walked. The room opened up into a wide expanse of stone. Huge metal pipes jutted out of the floor like pillars, criss-crossing on the ceiling, winding this way and that without pattern. It was a maze of iron and rust.

Perrin would feel his silver heat up on his skin and glow softly. A low growl rippled from the shadows, wolfish and agonized.

"Paladin..." The voice was low, broken, as if thrummed from broken vocal chords. Despite that, the tone sounded haughty - almost pleased with itself.

Perrin would find his radio didn't work. Either something was interfering, or the walls were too thick.

---

Robert and Noah followed their path along a wide, circular tunnel. The floor beneath them was an iron grate, under which black water sludged. Other tunnels veered off to their right in intervals, but the trail kept forward. Pipes made patterns on the wall to their left.

"...I'm curious, Warden," Robert spoke as they walked. He shone his light into each of the passing side tunnels. "Does your order practice a designated religion? One of the old necromantic spirit cults? Evequism?" He glanced ahead. "Some combination of the two?" A common practice, especially among middle-class necromantic families who sought to remember their old traditions whilst still maintaining their faith in the Wick.

It was clear from Robert's tone that he was trying to be respectful, but the Warden would likely notice the faint tinge of suspicion edging his words.
 
as written by Script

Perrin grimaced at the bodies he passed, careful to test each of them with a probing boot to ensure they weren't going to give him a nasty surprise when he stepped over them. They were chasing a necromancer, after all. A corpse was never reliably just a corpse. The larger chamber gave him pause. There were too many places for something to hide, too many dark corners and blind spots. He checked his lawkeeper before walking in, and made sure his sword was loose in its sheathe.

"Oh good," he announced in response to the voice, maintaining an air of confidence despite the rasping tones having the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Feeling melodramatic today, are we? I can appreciate that. Better than a bullet from a hiding spot, at least."

He brought his radio up. "This is Perrin. I've got something," his eyes scanned the room for its source, but found nothing. "Heard, but not seen. It sees me, though. Over."

Silence.

"Robert? Come in, Robert. Over." Perrin spared a glance down at the gauntlet, frowning. "Oh, for- Wick burn technology."

____

"We have a code, and traditions," Noah answered, though his eyes stayed forward. "But the Order as a whole has no official doctrine in the religious sense. I guess there are some aspects of our traditions, like how we're taught to view souls, that have religious implications... but generally speaking, we're free to worship as we choose, or not at all."

The blade in his hand continued to thrum with subdued power. Its design was ornate, and if Robert looked closely, he could likely make out some form of inscription upon the blade - too faint, though, to make out the words. The hilt and pommel - whilst partially obscured by Noah's hand - appeared to be designed to resemble a familiar raven crest.

"Personally, I... don't like to label my beliefs. I see value in some of your religion's tenets, but also in the old faiths. The old gods represent aspects of the world that your scriptures would say the Light doesn't fall on. I would like to think that the Light isn't so ... particular with who, or what, might walk in it."

He let his pale eyes wander backwards, to fix Robert with a blank, hard to read stare. "Why?"
 
as written by Ronin

A gargle of laughter followed Perrin's failed comms - more amused than sinister.

"Paladin..." the voice chided, "...does the Wick forsake you?" A rush of wind, the sound of talons on pipemetal. The voice rasped from a different corner of the maze. "Has Selene abandoned you to me?"

A rustling from behind. Should Perrin turn, he would watch nine corpses suddenly jolt to life, ripping out of their linens and rising to their feet. They staggered dumbly on desecrated limbs.

"I'd rather not kill you, if it's all the same." The zombies lumbered towards Perrin from the other room. To his right, a rusty lever jutted from the ground near the entryway. Above that, a wheel was fixed to the wall. "STEAM RELEASE" it read, under-writ with smaller text: "North Pipes 3B. Stand Clear When Operating." The entire maze was littered with such wheels, each operating a different strain of pipes.

"I don't suppose you're willing to lay down your weapons?"

---

"Just curious," Robert replied, "like most of new graduates, I spent most of my life in the Monastery. I've always wondered more about necromantic culture beyond the basic spells and curses." He smiled, almost sheepishly. "Truthfully Warden, the bulk of what I know about you and your craft revolves around tactics designed to... ah... kill you." He chuckled a bit. "Though I daresay you'd give me a run for my money. That sewer lid must have weighed at least forty pounds, right? Does animancy bolster your strength?" His brows furrowed. "Do you even lif-"

Movement up ahead. Robert and Noah would see a dark figure step out of the shadows, freeze in place at the two hunters, before darting off down a corridor.

"Stop! Police!" Robert immediately ran after the stranger. He brought his gauntlet up to his mouth. "Perrin, we have something-" Static. "-dammit."

He looked over his shoulder. "Come on, Warden!"
 
as written by Script

"I'd not go so far as to conflate my radio signal to Selene herself," Perrin responded, "it's a little diminishing, don't you think?"#

His eyes scanned the pipes, the lever. Steam wouldn't do much to a zombie, but it was a hazard worth noting. He sighed. At least zombies were easy targets, and with any luck, his companions would hear the gunfire echoing through the tunnels.

He levelled the lawkeeper, took careful aim, and fired.

As he'd demonstrated not long prior at the Aurellae, Perrin was amongst the Order's more capable gunslingers. His bullets flew true, one shot for each of the walking dead - aimed straight for the creatures' heads. Consecrated lead tore into their skulls with pinpoint precision. And to think that his tutors had once scolded him for spending too much time practising trick shots.

"You suppose correctly. I don't make a habit of negotiating with murderers. Although if it's worth anything, I'm also quite partial to the idea of you not killing me." He answered after he'd finished shooting, waiting to see the results of his volley. Not all zombies could be felled with headshots. Some would keep going as long as the necromancer controlling them had will and magic, more like animated dolls on puppet strings than independent constructs.

"It's only fair, then, if I venture you wouldn't be willing to come quietly?"

____

But Noah was already running. By the time Robert had turned around to him, the warden was already shooting past him. As he ran, his aura became manifest in a soft glow that surrounded his body. Inner power became outer, pushing his body beyond its normal limits. Beyond human limits.

He practically skimmed across the ground after the fleeing figure, free hand outstretched to grab hold of an arm or the back of his shirt, intent on jerking him backwards to an ungraceful halt.

Then the sound of gunfire echoed in the distance.
 
as written by Ronin

The rounds glowed a celestial blue as they pulverized corpse after corpse, chunks of ancient flesh and rotted bone spewing off of their stick-spines and splattering the floor. Most dropped after being hit, though a few pressed onward, arms flailing.

If Perrin felled them all, he would suddenly find his 12-count magazine spent. The paladin could reload from his belt or shift to a different ammunition tumbler. Either way, the moment his gun clicked empty, he was under attack. Something sprang from the shadows, blurring out of a corner of the maze with inhuman speed. Perrin might have had a moment to see it - huge, bulky, matted in thick, brown fur, before it attempted to body-check the paladin, sending him sprawling deeper into the maze.

He would get a better look at it upon rising: a Garoux, or rather, what should have been a Garoux. His acorn fur was bristled and mangy, patches of scar tissue and stitched-wounds covering its body. Its muscles were huge and unnatural, his skin stretched across elongated bones and surplus meat. Abysmal runes scrawled its body and glowed a faint, sickly green. Its eyes, curiously, were stitched shut. It tensed before the exit, blocking the pathway.

"Last chance, paladin," the voice warbled somewhere in the back of its throat. "Put it down, or this next part will become very unpleasant."

---

As Noah reached forward and yanked on the figure, it turned swiftly around and screamed in his face, the sound hollow, piercing, contorted in pain and agony. Its face was not recognizably human, made of what looked melting, dark clay. Its mouth was wide and horrified.

Robert stopped a few feet from Noah. "By the Light..."

PFFFFT. A hissing as an enormous pipe to their left overloaded. With a deafening crack, the metal broke open, unleashing a torrent of sickly black water directly into Noah and Robert's flanks. Unless countermeasures were taken, they would be swept off their feet and flooded into one of the side tunnels, the water carrying them down a chute-like slide. They would land after ten seconds of sliding into a large, circular room. Water came up to their knees.
 
as written by Script

Perrin wheeled around just in time to take the ball of muscle and fur to the chest, sending him sprawling, plate scraping against the concrete. He kept his grip on the Lawkeeper despite the impact, and was back on his feet within a few seconds. His armour had absorbed the worst of the impact, but he'd definitely be feeling that bruise later.

"I have a feeling that things would be getting unpleasant one way or another," Perrin retorted, forcing a grin through gritted teeth. This was a bad situation. A werewolf was hard enough to put down at the best of times, but an undead werewolf? "My mother taught me never to make deals down dark passages with necromancers."

A flick, and he swapped the lawkeeper's rounds to explosive. It was time to see how much punishment the creature could take. Not an instant after the rounds had locked into place, he'd fired, the explosive bullet cutting through the air towards the dead wolf's head.

____

Noah recoiled in shock from the creature, and had readied his sword to strike at it when the wall beside them burst. The torrent of water slammed into his side, taking him from his feet and into the chute. Cursing under his breath, he used a tug of anima to right himself mid-flight, managing to regain his feet and skid down into the circular room with relative grace.

The sickly water slid off of his protective aura, leaving him unblemished by the muck despite the fall. He raised his sword, letting its glow intensify to illuminate the room.

"Something tells me that wasn't a natural fault," he stated calmly, casting his eyes around for any threats. "I heard gunfire before we fell. Perrin may be in danger."
 
as written by Ronin

The wolf's head dipped as Perrin fired, the round soaring over him and exploding against the far wall in a deafening BOOM. Evidently, not even a superpowered werewolf zombie wanted to take a Monastic high-ex round to the face. The blast ruptured a trio of pipes near the main entrance, hot steam ejecting from the ruptured metal in a continuous hiss. Perrin could no longer go back the way he'd come.

The explosion singed the fur on the wolf's hindlegs, but it was moving before any real damage could be done. The beast pounced upwards, disappearing into the shadows.

"Your toys won't save you here, paladin," the voice rumbled, "I haven't quite finished my pet's eyes, but with his heightened sense of smell and hearing, he hardly needs them." A chuckle. A quiet woosh. The voice came from a new corner. Perrin wouldn't be able to find its source. "What a shame to die here. Alone. In the dark." Another gust of wind, behind him this time. Directly behind him.

The beast lunged, huge jaws snapping for Perrin's gun arm. If successful, his iron teeth would clamp around the plate and lock with a vicious bite. Not even the monstrous strength of a Garoux's jaws could penetrate Iverian steel, titanium and nanofoam, but the pressure would still cave-in the metal plating and likely crack the bone beneath. Perrin might also drop his Lawkeeper.

---

Robert's fall was not so graceful. The paladin landed face first, sputtering out of the water in an indignant huff. He unclasped his helmet and poured out a liter of sewage.

"Just great..." he rumbled before nodding back to Noah, "...yes, I heard the gunshots. We need to find a way out of here and assist him as soon as we can." He began splashing around in the water. "Help me find my Lawkeeper. I dropped it on the fall." He made a face as his face neared the murk-water. "Weird... this doesn't smell like sewer water..."

Ripples in the liquid, a low thrum in the water. It was their only warning before something erupted from the murk between them, huge, screeching. Its body was made of the black, the viscous fluid roughly coagulating into human shapes: a hunched torso, gangly limbs, the same screaming face from before. There was a bit more detail to it this time. Its eyes were hollow, its cheekbones high and thin. Something like hair swept over its skull and melted onto its back. It resembled a girl - a tortured woman. She stood nearly eight feet tall, drawing more mass from the surrounding murk with every second.

"Wick and Wyrm..." Robert gasped. His hand moved instinctively to the claymore strapped to his back. It rang from its sheathe.

The Murk screeched, a sound akin to screaming underwater. It swung an enormous, inky hand for Noah, attempting to pummel the Warden into the floor.
 
as written by Script

Perrin swore under his breath when his shot missed. He only had two more of those shots left. He'd have to make them count. The other two chambers held another clip of consecrated lead, and one of scatter shot. He'd tooled up for facing a necromancer and his hordes, but hadn't expected something like this. His belt held three spare clips: one incendiary, one regular lead, and one armour piercing.

The creature moved with terrifying speed. The young paladin's eyes widened, trying and failing to track the beast as it moved through the shadows. Then movement behind him. He lunged forwards and to the side, dropping down and spinning about to bring his weapon to bear. Too close for an explosive round. In less than a second, the chamber had clicked, and a scatter shot burst out into the creature's chest at near point blank range.

Not wanting to stay in the thing's reach a moment longer, he sprung back to his feet and backpedalled away. His heart was racing. Whilst Perrin had seen combat in the field before, this was the first time he'd felt his life had been truly in danger. A few zombies here, a rogue vampire spawn there. Always with backup. Now he was alone, facing off against the most dangerous creature he'd encountered in the short time since he'd taken the silver. The cocky young gunslinger was afraid, no matter how he tried to hide it behind bravado.

Wick, please let Robert hear the gunfire.

____

Noah flinched back away from the abhorrent eruption, his eyes widening in horror and disbelief. This was an abomination. Somewhere in that mass of muck was at least part the tortured soul of the murdered woman. He could scarcely imagine the agony her spirit was suffering through.

He felt a gauntleted hand upon his shoulder, reassuring, bolstering. 'Stand fast, Noah. We will bring her back to the Light. Together.'

Noah nodded, and his expression shifted from shock to unflinching determination. He was peripherally aware of Robert freeing his blade from its sheathe, as the creature lifted one colossal limb up in readiness to strike at him. He clasped his sword in both hands, and the light from the blade grew more radiant still, almost blinding.

The hand swung down, and Noah stepped to the side, a burst of speed carrying him clear of its path. In the same instant, he swung upwards. Deliverance slashed in an arc, a projection of consecrated steel that burned as true as the sword which it mirrored, set to scythe through the falling limb and sever it at whatever passed for an elbow on the monstrosity.

But attacking the construct's physical form was at best a delaying tactic. Whatever they destroyed would only fall back into the murk to be reabsorbed into its body. The true target was the soul.

Noah wasn't the most capable of exorcists that the Order had to offer. So much of his training had been devoted to the art of using his anima to enhance himself in combat, he'd had little time to devote to other disciplines. He was unlikely to be able to break the woman's binding with a mere battle of wills.

But Deliverance was a sword formed of pure anima. Every blow he struck with it struck at the soul as surely as it did the body. If he could visualise the binding tying the woman to this mass, he might sever those links. It was a brute force method, inelegant and far from the most comfortable passing a soul could experience. The Order's exorcists would cuff him around the head for it. But it would work, and right now, that was what was important.

The warden focused his gaze onto the ethereal, seeking to bring into view the spirit that lay behind the black muck, and the black animantic ties that bound her to it.
 
as written by Ronin

The wolf's jaws snapped the air, turning and following Perrin's roll for another lunge. His buckshot caught the monster directly in the chest. It did not yelp in pain or growl from the blast, but was forced back a few steps by the sheer force of the bullets, allowing Perrin time to escape.

Backstepping, Perrin would watch the skin over the bullet wounds seal over, the flesh knitting itself back together almost instantly. The runes on his back glowed. The wolf sniffed the air, catching Perrin's scent, before looking directly at him. He almost seemed to smile.

Then, it leaped again, disappearing into the darkness. Stalking him. Hunting him.

"Run, run, run little knight..."

---

"Yah!" Robert sprang forward as the Murk took a swipe for Noah. His sword cleaved through its torso, Lemeux Grey steel swiping a chunk of "flesh" away from the creature's midsection. No sooner the dent been made then did more sludge funnel into its body, filling the new vacancy.

"Great..." the paladin growled. "Where's my fucking gun... UGHN!" He caught a backhand from the monster's free limb and was sent sprawling into the water.

The creature's colossal hand smacked the stone as Noah nimbly dodged. Deliverance almost seemed to sing as it bisected the creature's elbow, the light of the Pleur shining in blinding radiance against the necrotic energies festering in the Murk. Where the blade touched, the inky flesh of the monster spasmed and ruptured. It reared, crying out, lifting its mangled limb away from Noah's reach. The monster focused on the wound, willing itself to heal, as it had with Robert's strike. It would not. At best, it could only reform itself around the cut, a far more time consuming ordeal. Holy energy simply would not allow Corso's power to manifest.

The Murk's pondering would give Noah plenty of time to scout out the traces of necromancy lingering in the monster's body. A webwork of arcane tethers ran through its body like blood vessels, glowing green in Noah's ethereal sight. The largest ran through its arms and legs (one of which Noah had just severed), but a mass of necrotic energy pulsed at the center of it all, where its heart should been. Noah might recognize the diamond shape of the epicenter, the foul glimmer. A soul gem.

It was, of course, surrounded by an ever-growing mass of sludge and waste. Simply cutting out the gem seemed difficult.
 
as written by Script

Well, that wasn't fair. Perrin supposed it was no different to the hardiest of normal werewolves, but it was clear that normal bullets weren't going to be of much help. Consecrated lead might fare better, restricting the wolf to whatever natural regeneration it had left after its animation by inhibiting Corso's magic. But that was only if he could get a good shot in.

The monster was too damned fast, and this room too damned dark. Sweeping his roundlight around could only do so much, and tracking the beast - or its master, for that matter - was proving impossible.

Why did I send Noah off with Robert? Light forgive me, but an animancer on side would be useful right now, if only for the light show.

Another click, and he switched out his scatter shot for the second chamber of consecrated lead. He moved cautiously, sweeping the light on his weapon in the shadows and trying to focus on his hearing as best he could. If only there were a way he could disguise his own scent...

An idea came to him, and his eyes darted back the way he'd come. No good there, the steam was still blocking his path. But maybe if he moved forward?

Gritting his teeth, and on alert from an attack from any side, Perrin began to forge deeper into the room, seeking another exit back into the main tunnels.

____

There it was. The heart of the monstrosity, abhorrent and beautiful all at once. The glimmering light of a full soul, concentrated into such a small place, was like a beacon to his soulsight. But the light was twisted, warped with the soul's suffering. He grimaced. That was his target.

Taking a breath, he darted forwards, slipping between the creature's legs and slashing out at one of them with his blade, digging deep to sever the thread that kept it functioning. To make it immobile. He didn't stop there, skimming past the creature and across the chamber, straight at the far wall. Just as he reached it, he leaped into a spin, striking the stone feet-first.

Time seemed to slow as he bent his knees, locking his eyes on the stone at the heart of the murky monster. He focused his anima into his legs, funnelling as much as he dared into what was to come. Dust and grime were driven away from the point of impact as he built power. For the barest moment he hung, crouched against the wall.

And then he sprung. The concrete cracked around his launch point with the force of his leap, driving him forwards like a cannonball straight at the monster. His entire body was alight as he redirected his energy to wrap himself in it once again, turning himself into a projectile to pierce straight through the belly of the beast.

His free hand stretched outwards, set to grab the soul gem and tear it free as he punched through. If all went to plan, he'd land with a splash on the far side of the creature, skidding to a halt with the stone grasped firmly in his fist.
 
as written by Ronin

The beast hunted Perrin. Its claws skittered on the pipeline, always just out of sight. Perrin ran through the maze, the network of pipes taking him left, right, right ... seeming without pattern. Every now and then he passed an access wheel for steam-release, the number on the valve pertaining to a pipe he's already passed.

"I can smell you, boy..."

A woosh. The monster was in front of him, heaving, growling. It lifted one of its enormous paws and backhanded Perrin's extended Lawkeeper, attempting to knock it out of his grip, before pouncing forward, teeth poised for the paladin's throat.

---

The Murk reared as Noah moved between its legs, severing another necrotic tendon and crippling it. It screeched, slumping, trying in vain to lift itself back up. It watched Noah out of the corner of its 'eye', sludge bristling on its body, tensing...

He struck, shooting off of the stone like an arrow of light. The Murk shifted, the muck of its body twisting to the side against Noah's attack. The Warden would funnel through the black and come out the other end having just missed the stone.

The Murk screamed at the wound, but wasted no time in resuming the attack. It swung just as Noah landed, this time with a horizontal swiped, seeking to batter Noah and knock him off his feet. Successful or no, the Soulcaller would suddenly be attacked by dozens of inky tendrils sprouting up from the surrounding water, attempting to wrap around his limbs and pull him to the floor.
 
as written by Script

Shit!

Perrin swore under his breath as his gun skidded across the floor, knocked from his grasp by the monster's swing. He had little time to contemplate it, though, as the wolf lunged for his throat. He just barely managed to duck aside in time, letting the wolf's momentum carry it past him, and followed it up with a booted kick to the back to force it further away.

His eyes locked onto a valve, and while the monster was still turning back to face him, he lunged for the adjacent release control and spun the wheel with all his might, releasing a jet of steam directly onto it.

The distraction would hopefully buy him time to vault over one of the pipes and grab his dropped lawkeeper, rearming himself and creating some distance.

____

Noah barely had a chance to curse that the tar creature had avoided his attempt on its core before its fist slammed into him from the side. He was sent sprawling into the muck, but managed to right himself enough to land into a roll that brought him back to his feet rather than leaving him submerged.

The tendrils lashed out at him, and he swept Deliverance in an arc, fending off some of them - but the rest latched onto him, tugging him downwards. He let out a growl of frustration, wrenching his sword arm forwards with a rush of anima to the muscle, snapping the couple of tendrils that had wrapped around it. With that done, he turned his blade on the rest, and with a flurry of slashes, he freed himself.

His eyes scanned the room, searching out Robert. He hadn't seen the paladin since he was sent flying into the water. Had the tendrils trapped him beneath the surface?
 
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