Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Nasazura's Rest: Well of Souls

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Script, Tiko and Sentry

Elante's footsteps echoed through the silence of the winding stairwell as he descended towards the well. The enchanted braziers that lined the walls lit up as he passed them, casting the glistening stone walls in an orange glow that flickered and danced with the flames. The young mage's head was bowed with fatigue that was made all the more obvious by the dark rings beneath his eyes. Sleep had been elusive of late.

If it wasn't enough that the Vanguard was leaderless, leaving him as one of the few senior members still around to coordinate them, Aeryn had gone missing over two weeks ago. There was still no sign of him. He and the other mages he could contact had attempted every scrying spell in their arsenal to no avail. Wherever he was, he was beyond their sight.

Though Elante maintained an outwardly optimistic facade, he could not deny to himself - nor to the more perceptive members of the order - that the pressure was getting to him. He wanted to devote his every waking moment to the search, but with the others looking to him for instruction, he couldn't afford to. Even if he hadn't been distracted - he was barely twenty-three! How was he supposed to even temporarily lead an order that was thousands of years old?

He couldn't do it. Not for much longer. Something was going to give, and the way things were going, it was probably going to be him. And so he had resorted to this. Within the Well of Souls resided the spirits of the Vanguard's fallen. Heroes from across time. And in times of dire need, they could be called upon for guidance.

Elante wasn't honestly sure if this qualified as dire need. But he knew that he needed guidance. Without it, both he and the Order were going to fall apart.

He could tell he was close to the base of the stairs when the light of the torches dwindled to be replaced by the calming glow of the pool's water. The chamber of the well itself wasn't large - perhaps thirty feet in diameter - and contained naught but the pool and a narrow ring of ground around it.

He hesitated at the threshold, watching the perfectly calm surface shimmering in its own light. Disturbing the resting souls was not something to be undertaken lightly. Was this right? Was this needed?

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forwards. Yes, it was. With nobody else around to consult, he had to make that call himself. Slowly, he approached the water's edge and knelt. He slipped one of his gloves off and into his pocket, then held his hand out over the well, lowering it until his fingertips brushed the surface. A single ripple emerged out from the point of contact, spreading across the entirety of the pool and rebounding off of its edges.

"Please," he whispered. "Sylvire. Anyone who's listening. I need help. We need help. We have no leader, our numbers are too few, and the world is falling apart at the seams around us." As he spoke, tears began to form in his eyes, though he did his best to fight them back. "I can't be what the Vanguard needs from me. Not yet. I've tried, really, but I- I just can't. So please. If anyone's there... tell me what to do?"

The ripples in the pool caused its glow to ripple across the chamber's walls in a similar fashion, creating a mystical dance of light and shadow. For a long moment, it seemed as though no response was forthcoming.

But then, a voice whispered from the light.

"I am here, Elante."

Looking up as he felt a hand touch his own, Elante's eyes lit up with relief and joy as he recognised the figure beginning to coalesce above the pool. Though her form was translucent and wispy in places, there was no mistaking her identity.

It was Sylvire.

The elven sorceress took his hand in her own and smiled down at him. With her other hand, she brushed a tear from his cheek.

"Do not weep," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "For you have done more than most in your position would have been capable of. You are not weak to seek guidance, but wise. Many would have clung too firmly to their pride to admit that they could not give what was needed of them."

Laughing tearfully, Elante brought his free hand up to wipe at his eyes. "You have no idea how good it is to see you again, Sylvire. It feels like we've been stumbling blind ever since you left. We were managing, but then Rhea left too, and ... well, you heard. Everything's falling apart."

"To lead an order such as the Vanguard would be a daunting task for even an experienced commander. To rebuild it from the ground up is a task of generations. But you needn't fear," Sylvire straightened, gently pulling Elante to his feet. "You have more than just my own guidance to call upon. The wisdom of all the Vanguard past is at your disposal; you need only ask."

At her back more translucent forms began to take form above the shimmering waters. One two, three... their numbers continued to increase until they blurred together with various faces and forms fading in and out of visibility. Some were more familiar than others, but Champions of old, each and every one of them.

One such form was gaunt and leathery. He stood out among many, inhuman and giant, willowy and nightmarish. His limbs were knobby and were stretched too long, so as to seem spiderlike. The skin on his face was pulled so tightly over his skull that his teeth imprinted upon his lips. His grin was worn on the outside, from ear to ear.

The man was swathed in various leathers and armor. In one bony hand, he held a staff as tall as he, encircled with shrunken heads frozen in various expressions. He was a sight.

At the giant's side stood a slight girl, so short as to be almost comical by comparison. She was adorned across her body with leaves and other foliage, including in the place of her hair. She herself wore a beaming, cheerful smile, and she waved excitedly to Elante from where she stood beside her more stoic comrades. "Elante! Hello! Gosh, it's been a while, hasn't it? You look very different. Well, you're definitely taller, at least." Kirae grinned. "But Lady Sylvire is right! You've done very well. I could never organise an order. I can barely organise myself!"

Another voice chuckled from the depths of the water - this one male - as another translucent face faded in and out of view. It was a face that had perhaps haunted the young mage through the years.

"Wisdom she says. As I recall it, it was my own stubborn pride that once forced you to raise your hand against me," Brent said. "All the same we're behind you. Even those of us who can't claim wisdom as our strength," he added with a wink.

Others too churned through the masses, the faces of the fallen. Many simply watched on, stoic in their presence. Among them were the last of Sylvire's era. Aurion, Arran, Gawyn, Shaiel, Kaelan, Luriel, Mirana, Oron, Peregrin, Selwyn, and Merethyl. All were present. All had answered Elante's call.

The young mage's eyes widened at the array of faces - both familiar and otherwise - that appeared before him. For a moment, he was stunned to silence. Then, he smiled, a warmth filling his heart that his old allies, and so many others, had come to lend their support. "Thank you," he whispered, then again, louder. "Thank you. For so many of you to answer... I'm truly honoured. I have nobody else to turn to. I'm not ready to lead us, but in truth, I don't know who is. Arrow has his Knights, Scarlet can't abandon Celestia... I don't know what to do."

Sylvire smiled to him, nodding her head in understanding. "There will come a day when you, or another, are ready to take up the mantle of leading the Vanguard. Neither you nor I can say when that day will come, but one thing is without doubt. The world cannot wait until then; it needs us now. The land is gripped by turmoil and chaos, and dark powers lurk in the shadows to take advantage of it. The Void grows stronger."

The giant lifted his head and drew to his full height. "Do not be discouraged, Mister Elante. Your determination to move forward shall inspire future allies. To lose hope is to fall into despair."

"And you are not alone," the voice that joined them next was that of Aurion. The celestial stepped forwards from the midst of his allies, his wings radiant even insubstantial as they were. "You have allies in us all, even in death. Those you have gathered have the potential to make the Vanguard as great as it has ever been, with the right guidance. And so guidance you shall have."

He spread his arms, gesturing at the assembed spirits. "The Well of Souls is a powerful thing. In the Vanguard's time of need, when the order is threatened, we will answer the call and come to your aid. Such is the case now. Though the enemy are not at your doorstep, the order is threatened nonetheless. You have lost your way, though it is through no fault of your own. We will help you find it once more."

Sylvire nodded her head. "Until such a time as one of the living is up to the task, we will lend you our wisdom. Circumstances have changed since I felt my duty done. I see now that there is more yet for me to do." She held out her hand to him. "You have need, and I shall provide."

Staring up at her with wide eyes, Elante was speechless for several long moments. "I..." he eventually managed, "I can't ask for you to-"

"It is not asking, to accept what is freely given." Sylvire smiled. "I am called once more to stand by your side. Will you have me?"

Another long pause. Elante stared at Sylvire's extended hand with disbelieving eyes. When he had begun his descent to the well, he would never have anticipated this outcome. "I..." he looked up to meet her eyes, and saw no doubt in them. "I will."

He reached out and took her hand. As the two made contact, light burst from where they touched, filling the chamber. Elante gasped, bringing his free arm up to shield his eyes from the blinding flash, even as a rush of wind sent his coat billowing out behind him. Slowly, the faintness of Sylvire's touch became more substantial. With the fading of the light, he turned back to see her - as solid as she had been in life - hovering just above the water with her eyes closed.

With a gasp, she opened them, and dropped. Elante rushed forwards to support her as she landed in the shallow water with a splash, stumbling forwards into him. "Sylvire! Are you-"

"I am well, Elante." She took a deep breath, straightening and releasing his grip. He stepped back to allow her to step from the water. "To become so suddenly corporeal... I am merely a little disoriented."

Behind her, the other spirits were fading away, though they did not all seem to be retreating into the well as was normal. Perhaps Sylvire was not the only one to diverge from the whole?

"What happened? You're... you're here. As in, actually here. In the flesh." Elante shook his head in disbelief. "How? I didn't think even the Well could..."

"I may have physical form, but I am not quite reborn." Sylvire raised her hand, examining it in the light of the pool as though it were unfamiliar. "I am still a spirit, bound to this place. But the power of the well has granted me a degree of independence. The others, too - though perhaps not as much."

"Still, this is amazing!" Elante's shock finally gave way to a beaming smile. "No matter the limitations, you're ... here. You've been missed, Sylvire. Sorely. It's good to have you back, in whatever capacity it is."

"It is good to be back, Elante. Now, come. We have much to discuss, and there are doubtless better environs in which to do so than here."
 
as written by Script, Dashmiel, Lobos, and Tiko

Another time and place...

The sound of battle filled the air, rebounding through the vaulted halls of the temple around the bloodied and battle-worn wardens as they ran. The vestibule was a scene of destruction; broken shards of statue were scattered across the floor, and the front entrance had been reduced to rubble where the enemy had broken through their defences. Now, the fighting had spread like a wildfire through the inner areas of the temple, no longer a single focused front but instead individual pockets of resistance. The barracks still held, as did the suhn’ra, but they’d suffered heavy casualties in the initial shock of the attack, and their assailants showed no signs of relenting.

Arrow wiped a smear of blood from his forehead before it could run into his eyes. His ears were still ringing from the impact, but there was no time to stop and examine the wound. They had to reach the Well of Souls before any more lives were lost.

An ear-splitting howl to their left drew his attention towards a section of wall that had been knocked through into the adjacent hall in time to see a towering shape being wreathed in an explosion of celestial fire from somewhere out of his vision. In the next moment, a figure swathed in gold barreled into it with a crash, a yell of ”Fuck you!” echoing back as they both tumbled out of vision. Arrow almost smiled despite himself; it was good to see that Aeryn was still alive and kicking. The fire, no doubt, came from Elante.

The distraction was all the more appreciated as they reached the sealed door to the inner sanctum. “Aeldric, get that door open!” he called, wheeling around to face their rear. He extended his hand to recall his bow and nocked it ready. They’d escaped pursuit for the time being, but it would only be a matter of time before they were found. “Everyone else, weapons ready to buy time if we need it!”

“Like you had to say that, Arrow,” Asher muttered, spinning on heel around to face the way they’d come. Raising his unique armament, a pair of unusually cast blades connected by a chain, one held in a middle guard, the other slowing hissing through the air in lazy circles. Glancing at his companions, the dark skinned native of Hafirjan caught his breath, trying to recompose himself after the carnage of the first wave.

"One does not simply buy time," Rolando added. "They take it - at the point of a sword," he finished as he slipped into a guarded combat stance with his rapier held at ready. His attire was tattered and blood spattered, but his face was calm and resolute.

"Do you ever contemplate your own mortality," Janina remarked dryly at their side. The young woman bore the regalia of a cleric of the Light, and she held a glowing pendant in one hand while her other was outstretched. From around it pulsed a faint rippling shield ready to be expanded to protect the group of five defenders.

A weary Aeldric stumbled his way away from the group, resignation clear in his face. He wanted to be above, giving his life for his companions if need be, but as always, the pull of the Light and the burden that often accompanied it were not something he could shrug off.

Aeldric approached the impressive door warily, his eyes scanning the myriad of runes and draconic symbology that were beyond his understanding. He did not try to consciously decipher their placement and how they might be tied to the wards upon the portal; that had never been his expertise. Instead, he whispered a short prayer to the light and wrapped his holy pendant around one hand.

Immediately it flared in an explosion of light, but rather than blind it shadowed. Wherever it’s light touched one of the wards, it dimmed. Quickly and without thinking about what could go wrong if he erred, Aeldric let his Light guided instinct lead his hand and as his hands flew before the door in a rhythmic pattern, the light from his pendant slowly waned until all wards had been deactivated.

“It is done,” he proclaimed before opening the doors and gesturing for the others to follow.

Before they could, another crash sounded at the far end of the vestibule. Another section of wall gave way, and Aeryn came flying through in a shower of stone dust. The golden light surrounding him faded as he arced through the air, and he hit the ground limply, one of the elemental bracers flung from his arm to clatter across the floor. In the hall from which he’d been thrown, a woman screamed his name. He wasn’t moving.

Arrow had taken a half-step forwards to go to his friend’s aid, but forced himself to stop. He clenced his fists, steeling his resolve, and though it rent his heart to do so, he turned away. “Come on,” he instructed as he advanced through the doorway, snapping the others out of any intent they might have had to go to Aeryn’s side. “We have to move.”

“But Aery-” Janina balked before seeing the look in Arrow’s eyes.

More would fall if they didn’t reach the Well of Souls.

“Well, I’ll take point. At least I know if something sends my corpse flying back, Aeldric’s big ass shield will stop it.” Asher jibed, moving forward to keep the others from seeing his own rage and anguish. But his strides were hard and jolting, the hiss of the spinning sword becoming a dull whine as it whirled faster.The man was obviously upset, but there was nothing more to do than press forward to the one thing that they all thought could stop it.

Straight across the sanctum’s interior they moved, none sparing much attention to the room that always had awed initiates. Down the stairs, into the networks of staircases and tunnels. Asher led the grim group through the paths almost by instinct, less of his focus on the paths he’d learned and more on keeping a wary eye out for more of the things that had struck the temple. After a few minutes at their swift pace, they were there.

“Now what?”

“Now, we pray to the Light that this is enough,” Arrow replied, dismissing his bow with a flash as he walked to the water’s edge. “Whatever you do, let nothing reach the well. I’m not sure how long this will take.”

He stepped forwards, the shimmering water rippling around him as he waded in a few paces before lowering himself to one knee. “Heroes of times past, we call upon you in our hour of need. The temple is breached, and our numbers thin. We need aid. I implore you, lend us your strength…”

Janina hung back near the entrance as the rest of the group began to fan out to get into position to defend Arrow. She had never laid her eyes upon the Well of Souls, and while it was simplistic in design - nothing more than a simple ring of polished stone encircling a small pool of azure blue water - she could feel the power resonating from within it. The salvation of the temple lay within those waters...

"It's marvelous..." Janina murmured.

The momentary distraction proved a fatal one though. As Arrow began his communion with the well, Janina stiffened and her eyes flew wide. A sputtering cough left blood dribbling down her chin as a clawed hand protruded forth from her abdomen.

The shadowed creature that stood at her back was a monstrous beast that towered over those present with its hulking form and gangly limbs. Its bony skeletal structure jutted out from beneath lean and wiry muscles, and thick patches of white fur grew haphazardly along its body. The amber glow of its eyes were filled with malice and scorn as it viciously flung Janina to one side where she struck the wall with the resounding crack of bone. An arc of blood flew through the air in the same moment - blossoming from the creatures forearm - and the form of Rolando now stood at the back of the looming creature, several paces from where he had stood moments earlier. The blade of his rapier glistened red but even his incredible speed had proven too slow.

"You will regret that," Rolando promised darkly.

Focused on immediate threats to Arrow left Asher’s attention elsewhere when the beast struck down Janina, though the sound of bone breaking drew his gaze swiftly. His mind didn’t need to process the scene, it just recognized a threat, his body drawing on muscle memory. His readied arm twisted and released, the blade at its end sailing like a ballista bolt that carved through the air for the center of the creature face while blood still fell from Rolando’s wounding.

Simultaneous to the throw, Rolando disappeared from his position as the creature twisted and swung a clawed hand for him, only to reappear in front of the beast. He smoothly twisted to the side as Asher's lighter blade glanced off the heavy bone, ripping a furrow along the side of the monster’s head before the Grandmaster jerked back with its twin in hand. Whirling on its tether to Asher, the cast of his red eyes echoed his fellow’s words silently.

“NO,” Aeldric’s roar of denial echoed amidst the surrounding stone as his divine suit of armor sprung into existence around him. He could only spare a short look of anguish towards his fallen charge, for despite his desire to aid his fallen student, the Light had other demands.

Grimly he hefted up his shield on his arm, and his will which was the same as that of the Light flared into position. The simple banded wood and rings of iron became infused with holy light, and outwards from them radiated bright lances of pure divine reckoning. He briefly raised his sword, intending to rush the monster and have his vengeance, but quickly altered his course.

To his intentions of revenge his blade gave no weight. It was not Light’s will for him to strike the monster down.

“How much longer, Arrow?” he roared as Asher and Rolando struck at the beast. He would have to content himself with holding it off from the well. Before the Light, his personal feelings came a distant second. Grimly, he moved to stand between Arrow and the beast, his shield radiating out the power of Light’s aegis around them.

Grimacing, Arrow shook his head. “I don’t know, I’ve not done this before,” he responded, doing his best to remain focused despite the fighting at his back. As he spoke, though, the water began to react to his plea. Its shimmering grew brighter, and a spectral mist began to rise around him.


Meanwhile Rolando followed up Asher’s attack with a second of his own. The jerk of Asher’s blade drew the beast’s face back to look at him with those burning scornful eyes as Rolando thrust his rapier up into the creature’s lower jaw, driving it up through the beast’s brain to protrude from the top of its cranium. The creatures toothy jaws split into a wide grin as Rolando swiftly jerked his blade free and skipped back several paces - too swift for the eye to follow - and fell back into a guarded stance. Laughter was not the response he had anticipated from a seemingly fatal blow.

Not willing to risk chance, Asher struck again, sliding his hand along the chain and whipping both blades in concert around him, pirouetting with the blades before lashing them both forward, channeling the powers of wind and fire into them to form a small vortex of hot, whirling steel. Lashing across the chamber, the weapons scored solidly on the beast’s upper torso, slashing into, and then through, bone, ripping meat apart where he expected a heart to be, before bursting through its back. Roughly yanking on the chain, the blade ripped back through the hole violently, tearing yet more damage into the beast before sparking across the floor to either side of the man.

“Walk that off.”

The creature took a staggering step forward before stumbling and staggering to the side and collapsing on the ground, its clawed hands twitching and spasming as the pool of blood beneath it began to spread.

Surely there would be more on the heels of this one though, and Rolando’s expression remained one of hardened resolve.

“Let us hope the spirits of the well aren’t deep sleepers,” he offered in grim jest.

It seemed as though their comrades’ sacrifices would not have been in vain, as the spectral mist continued to rise. It began to coalesce before where Arrow knelt into a humanoid form, taking on familiar features.

But just as the young knight smiled in recognition of Sylvire, a trickle of the creature’s blighted blood began to flow into the well. The effect was immediate. Darkness burst from the point of contact in a black flood, turning the shimmering light to a sickly, ominous aura. The rising mist warped, darkening, and Sylvire’s features twisted, becoming again unrecognisable.

The light fought back, a crackling power coursing across the darkened water, rapidly growing in intensity until the very air began to split. Arrow’s eyes widened, and he started to rise and back away from the centre of the pool, but before he could take more than a single step, the well exploded.

An unholy melding of dark and light magics burst out from the pool in a mighty nova. The explosion swallowed Arrow entirely, and slammed into Aeldric’s shield with all the force of the well’s magic destabilised and turned outward.

Aeldric had a split second in which to be confused in, as his pendant flared into a blinding point of light the moment the creature’s blood splashed into the well.

In the brief instant before chaos ensued, he got the strange but distinct impression that Light’s will had somehow been fulfilled. He could do no more but half turn towards Arrow before events quickly ran their course.

He saw his comrade be torn in a maelstrom of rampaging energy before the thought registered and he could take a single pointless step. The force of the warring energies against his shield of Light nearly caused him to lose his step and despite his bracing against them still pushed him several yards away before exploding through his shield.

The Light however, would not forsake its champions.

The force of the blast sent Aeldric flying a short distance through the air, but before he could crash to a stop against the wall his body simply stopped in midair as his armor dissipated away and his pendant somehow flared even brighter.

The holy Light of that conduit bathed over all that was left in the room as both the corrupting void and the ancient magic of the Well of Souls battled for dominance. Shimmering veils of rainbow hues surrounded the party of living companions and the corpses outside of the influence of the Well, and yet still the light became brighter about the chamber.

There was simply too much fundamental power unleashed, too much primordial essence in so little a space. Alone, the Light could easily counteract the powers of Void, but the energies of the Well of Souls, which were more pure in their intent and were of neither side twisted the natural course of events between the two.

The resulting explosion of power rippled not through the stones of the chamber but across all of reality itself, blasting those gathered through the folds of creation.
 
as written by Dashmiel, Tiko, and Lobos...

As suddenly as it began, so it ended. The Light projected by the conduit Aeldric wore winked out of existence, and he briefly crashed against the wall of the chamber before coming up in a roll with his sword in hand to battle the next threat.

He glanced to Rolando and Asher to see if they were ready for what he expected to be the beast’s friend behind it.

Rolando had struck the wall no less forcefully than his companions, but he too was quick to recover. He had already pulled himself to one knee and was using his left hand to support himself against the wall as he regained a sense of equilibrium. To his credit, his rapier remained clutched in his other hand.

Facing the wrong way, Asher was flung forward, the wall rushing to meet him head on. Frantically snapping at the chains, one managed to snag against something, and instead of striking a wall face-first his shoulder wrenched with a pop before his legs shot forward, then gravity deposited him on his back. With a groan, he sat up, rubbing his shoulder before flicking the chain to loose it from where it had caught the join in the floor.

The distant ring of battle that had spilled through the tunnels had fallen silent though. Eerily silent. Nothing but the sound of their own breathing, and the rustle of their movements filled the air.

Aeldric threw his friends a confused glance before turning his gaze towards the Well. It’s waters were placid and still. Of Arrow, he saw not a trace.
“I felt Light’s satisfaction a moment ago, and I don’t think I’m dead,” he voiced dazedly. “Do you guys...hear anything?”

Pausing for a moment, Asher listened, glancing around warily. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.”

Looking at the pool, he turned his gaze back to Aeldric. “Did it work? I wasn’t looking that direction, but I sure as hell didn’t expect explosions.”

“Where is Arrow?" Rolando interjected as he regained his footing and stood up.

Meanwhile as the group reoriented itself, a faint sizzling sound filled the air as the remains of the monstrous creature began to break down and turn to ash at the origin of its wounds. Bit by bit it crumbled away, releasing wisps of black mist that dissipated into the air.

“I...am uncertain,” Aeldric answered. Reluctantly but with no threat immediately apparent, he sheathed his sword and tentatively moved to stand next to the Well. “It exploded, and Arrow was right in the middle of it. I saw a glimpse of him before his body was bathed in the sheer power...and yet there’s not even a damned ripple upon it now.”

Confused, Aeldric simply ran his hand over one side of his face and sighed.

Rolando sheathed his rapier and knelt briefly beside the prone form of Janina. He placed a hand on her shoulder and rolled her lightly onto her back, but he needed not even check her for signs of lingering life. The gaping whole in her abdomen and the vacancy of her eyes told him there was nothing to be done for the fallen cleric. She was already gone.

"Perhaps the main temple will shed some light on the situation," he said as he stood back up. "If there are those who still survive above, we need to make contact quickly."

Aeldric grimly nodded, leaving the well behind and moving towards his fallen apprentice. With no time for mourning, he simply knelt by her and gently closed her eyes as he whispered a short eulogy beseeching the Light on her behalf.

“Let’s go.”

Asher nodded as well, twisting his wrist to trigger his wristband, the lengths of his weapon siphoning into the extradimensional space it contained. Sparing one last glance at their fallen comrade, the man sighed heavily before following the others.
 
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