A Consecration
Log Info
- Title: A Consecration
- GM: Culix
- Characters: Harkashan, Aelwyn, Carver, Nameless, Delilah, Eztli
- Location: Felwood
- Summary: The Spires of Linneia lit and a temple revealed. The Mythwood elves seek to consecrate it and open it, but the dangers are not over yet.
There were but two spires left of the five to find the lost Temple of Eluna -- Linneia's Temple of Eluna -- that was supposed to be concealed between them according to legend. The Mythwood elves believed that uncovering it might offer aid in pushing back the Felwood and cleansing some of it its demonic taint. Over the preceding months, great efforts have been undertaken, from the establishment of the Alexandrian-Mythwood camp at its edge, to the cleansing of multiple spires.
Multiple groups were sent out, as they are, to try to find the spires, and it looks like one of them succeeded earlier in the evening. A raucuous cheer went up in the camp when a beam of light briefly appeared in the sky.
It was folloewd by a second, surprisingly, several hours later.
A brief tremble hit the camp at that time and a *plume* of silvery light erupted over the tree line where a silvery spire stands revealed, towering over the others and capturing the evening's full moon light.
There is a hushed, stunned silence, before people are quickly ordered to begin gathering together and making their way towards it.
It would appear that the temple of Eluna is no longer lost.
It isn't too uncommon for Harkashan to take an extra trek to the Felwood to see the progress on its de-corruption. He'd come here when he was but a starting Adventurer, well over a year ago now. And now, with the blessings of the Deathsinging Dragon, he wonders... how far has he come since he was that Sith-makar dangling from a rope, for the sake of a Mythwood Elven test.
As the plume of light erupts over the treeline, his head tilts up from the outlying camp, and he couldn't help but raise his brow at the sight. Knowing that others are currently on a mission out there, he is quick to get his stuff and move out. "Tell them that Shaman Harkashan is entering the Felwood."
Back then, he wouldn't have dared travel into this place alone. But perhaps he'll have company on his quickened paced passage towards the Silvery Spire.
Delilah has been free from an execution order for a fair while now. The novelty, however, has not worn off, and her joy at being able to do things with neither manacles nor a fear of bounty hunters and lawmen remains radiant. So, here she is, out in the world, dressed not in prison garb but how she likes, with her weapons not confiscated, no anti-magic chains...
Life is decidedly good.
So, the mission is to find a lost temple? Seems straight forward enough. Not necessarily easy, but straightforward. But do things ever remain straightforward? Well, no, but that's why people like her are along for the ride.
The golden haired sorceress straightens her hat, tipping it up so she can better regard the silvery spire.
"...Hunh," she observes. "That would be it, then. Can't possibly be that easy, though. It's never that easy."
GAME: Nameless refreshes spells.
Neither the shaman Harkashan nor Delilah are alone. A great many elven warriors and Alexandrian soldiers are moving with you, and they are indeed escorting several important personages from the Mythwood as well, though it is not yet clear who they are. No doubt these individuals have been in waiting until this time, readying themselves.
Ripples of silver fire illuminate the sky and one can briefly see, for a time, the symbol of Eluna upon the horizon, a great crescent moon made of blazing energy. It eventually dissipates as you are en route, but it is a clear sign that the great work, this labor, is near complete.
They are not disturbed on their route, thus far, but one can feel a certain, palpable sense of anger flowing beneath their feet, as if the fel energies of this place have been not merely disturbed by recent events, but enraged. There's no doubt they will not remain so quiescent for long, that something is no doubt marshaling, but for now they are not disturbed on their way.
At last, toppled trees and disturbed earth become apparent and thye breach into a clearing, where the flowing silver fire radiates from an equally silver-hued building from which a single, great spire emerges. It's scarred doors and battered exterior, pockmarked with the signs of a forgotten war of centuries past.
A single rope hangs at the edge of the clearing, umoored from any obvious setting, but as soon as armed figures begin to arrive in the clearing, several robed figures, as well as Alexandrian irregulars, emerge from their rope trick spell's poket dimension with obvious relief.
Carver stands silhouetted before the barred gate of the Moon. To the great door's silence and the exasperation of her comrades, she has spent much of the last hours trying out agreat many passwords to bypass the enchantment that bars the way. Every sensible, and many more nonsensible phrases have been yelled at the unresponsive entryway. None of which have been met with success.
At least she isn't kicking at it anymore.
One of the people who leaves the rope sanctuary is much more graceful than when they entered it, and certainly took up much less room. In spite of everything, the small makari was in surprisingly good spirits.
"Harkashan, welcome! And welcome to you too, along with everyone else." The sorceress greets, not really trying to hide their grin. "You missed it Harkashan, it was so cool! I turned into a _dragon_!" She exclaims. "I think Aelwyn was a bit jealous though, and not really why you're here. Thank you for your help, really."
A colourful goblin who many of you know, but whose name somehow can't come to mind stands near the human woman, flicking through a spellbook and muttering to herself. "I still say we just teleport through the door and see what's inside. It's probably not 'open' or 'friend', no matter how obscure the language you use. That only works in stories. Current wisdom in magical enchantment passwords is a random but complex phrase across at least two languages!"
"... but fire is _really_ only way to be sure." Aelwyn quietly tells a group of the roberly figures with a hiss. Rebuffed again, he tchs and turns his gaze upon the onlookers, especially when he hears his name being mentioned.
The ruddy sith-makar's mouth spreads into a macabre grin. "Lava!" He calls out, walking after Eztli. "... White." He bows at the woman wearing white, before turning back towards the somewhat tall makari of them. "This one hopes this is the party to set this place on blaze? For is this not what the Dragon decreed?" He gives a pointed look towards Eztli.
"Have you tried One-Two-Three-Four?" Harkashan bemusedly asks Carver, as he, Delilah, and the rest of the Mythwood procession make it towards the tower. Taking note of the ropetrick and people descending from it, he can only assume that the area has been problematic.
"Any threats still in the area?" He inquires with the others, as he wonders for a moment if they hid because Eztli turned into a dragon. Still, there's a big grin on his face. "A proper dragon you say? Well done." Sounding honest to god proud of her. "It's no surprise Aelwyn would be jealous of that. Though I think he might wish to Ride you more than be Jealous of you." He points out.
He then crosses his arms. "We are not setting this Tower on fire. We're trying to make use of it to quell the evils of this forest."
"I know ways to open doors," Delilah offers, "Especially uncooperative doors, but as a general rule the methods I've got don't work particularly well on doors that belong to things like, y'know, sacred temples." She pause. "Which we probably don't want to desecrate." Another pause. "Especially since this is a Temple of Eluna, and she's my girl."
The sorceress purses her lips, and mmms softly, "Or... maybe it's more that I'm *her* girl, since she's the goddess in this relationship and I'm the puny mortal. But at least I'm a good looking puny mortal with lots of magic."
So, for the moment, the golden haired sorceress just shrugs, and watches. "Well, maybe it takes an Elunan to enter?" She walks up, and calmly plants her hand on the door, just... to see. Why not? What's the worst that could happen?
Carver just throws her hands up to the air in disgust, having exhausted all her options. She nods in greeting at the arrival of more, a faint tinge of recognition given to Harkashan but only that. "Been quiet, beyon' a lick of unease. Like it's waiting for a promised hour or a promised champion."
GAME: Harkashan rolls Religion+2: (14)+Religion+2: 16
Some of the elves look slightly offended at the idea of setting it on fire. Others break into rueful chuckles, well aware of the troubles that have been seen to to get this far.
The same can be said of the Alexandrian soldiers who have arrived. No doubt all of them have similar stories to tell in helping to protect the spires that have been revealed thus far. Lives have, after all, been lost.
All the same, one of the escorted elves moves forward. Wrapped in a silver robe, bells chiming with her movements, she sweeps forward. There is so much silver there! From the streaks in her hair to the bangles and jewelry she wears. Everything about her screams 'priestess', really, and there's even less doubt of that when she opens her mouth.
"No, this place is already ablaze with the light of the moon. We must consecrate the grounds at once, lest the devils of this fel place seize it for their own ends. Before anyone even considers entering, we must bless our effort and seek Eluna's grace in this deed. Shaman Harkashan, a moment of your time -- as the most experience priest aside from me here, we should coordinate, if you'd not mind following my lead?"
One can feel the smile, even if the veil hides it.
Immediately, the guards move out to the periphery. There's a *lot* of them, after all, and more are coming. There's full intent to protect this space at all costs. One of the Wardens you recognize from the camp approaches the company of wizards alongside the irregulars that were here when the others arrived.
"Rest," he tells them, "You've earned it -- we've got the perimiter covered and you guys look like you've been through hell to get his far. I've asked one of the acolytes to come tend to each of you." He gestures in the background and a similarly garbed silvery servant of Eluna approaches Eztli, Carver, Aelwyn and that one, weirdly nameless Goblin, moving to tend to each of them in turn and to bathe their wounds in what he calls 'sacred moon-water'. It soothes the aches and feels fairly restorative.
"Well, yes, I guess he probably would. But, I'd rather not think about Aelwyn riding me." The sorceress snickers. "I don't know if you'll have more luck than I did, maybe you follow Eluna better, but I already tried it, even if not nicely. Maybe the niceness is important."
"Thanks, hopefully everyone'll feel a lot better after that." Eztli sighs. "Aelwyn? Feeling stronger again? If that doesn't work, I'm sure Harkashan could help too. We got attacked by these weird shadow creatures, weakened us all. Aelwyn may have been happy for the excuse to wear less armor, but it's been a real pain getting here at times. Hopefully you weren't bothered by the forest, but it seemed particularly hostile, today."
GAME: Nameless rolls knowledge/religion: (15)+13: 28
"The dragon thing was really awesome." The goblin agrees. "And I don't think anyone wants to burn the temple down. The temple seems to be good. The forest is evil, though. But..." she sighs, "We can give it one more chance to stop being evil."
"Can't really say it's safe, the forest does keep trying to kill us - but it's the calm before the storm. If you concentrate, you can feel the power gathering here, and the power in this area is dark and dangerous. Hopefully we can cleanse it before it coalesces into a real problem."
Aelwyn clicks his teeth and then lets out a long 'ah', looking at Eztli. "Ah, to be so forward, Lava, for have we not all?" He grins teasingly, before he taps the larger makari on the ankles with his tail. Then his orange eyes were back on Eztli. "Though this one feels as if Spelldancer might need to grow her wings a little more." It is not as if he hadn't _thought_ about it at least!
The Felwood had not been kind to the Dragoon. He had been on many excursion into this forest - first out of pay, then out of near petty vengeance. A need to see it burn. It wasn't even the forest's fault, not truly - but between the mimics and the nightmarish dream he was forced to witness, that had since come to pass like a vision...
He'd rather see it burn, just in case.
When Aelwyn is offered the moon-water, he doesn't even hesitate - and it was obvious then that the Dragoon had been very heavily leaning against the glaive he was wielding. "You say that, and then say that is not a massive mimic or a trap of some dimension, first." He tells the tall makari with a sudden strong 'tch', before he continues agitatedly. " We have all been there. Let us skip to the part where we do not get eaten or worse. Let us do the smart thing first." <Draconic>
Harkashan lays his hands behind his back and bows his head to the Priestess. "I am in agreement. A consecration would be good. But it may be worth calling out the risks of what lay within." He looks to Carver as he says this, before patting Aelwyn on the head for a moment while touching tails at the same time. "Let me know if you need my magics to heal any damage to your muscles, alright?"
"As this Tower has been... somewhat 'out of time', it is very possible there are powerful Demons still within there. As powerful as they were during say, the Demon Wars, or similar times." He pauses for but a moment, before adding; "They are immune to Electric and Poisonous magics. And Acid, Fire and Cold are not much good against them either. They tend to be telepathic as well. Cold Iron or Good weaponry is best used against them."
He then steps over towards the priestess proper and tilts his head at that smile beyond the veil. "You seem happy. Glad to have a chance to reclaim what was once lost?" He inquires. "Either way, I will assist. But we should make sure we cover all of the doors. Or stone some of them in, so that we create a narrow flow of enemies."
Delilah takes her hand off the door -- it didn't work anyway -- and backs away to stand closer to the other adventurer-sorts. Well, and anyone who looks like they might be ablt to take a hit or two if things go wrong, since she certainly can't do that.
"Yeah, consecration sounds like a plenty good idea," she agrees, as if anyone had asked her, which of course they didn't. But that's fine, they're paying her for her opinion afterall. The golden haired sorceress stretches, flexing her arms out to the sides, then up in the air as much as the wide brim of her hat allows.
"So, are we expecting a fight the moment we crack the doors open, then? Or is it just a possibility?"
"That's right," says the priestess. She extends her hand towards Harkashan, gently, "Maeva," she offers, "Well, my actual name is much, much longer, but let's go with Maeva for now -- and yes, I can see your friends could use assistance in that way. Feel free to tend to them while I prepare the rite. I will read you in on what we're going to do so you can better assist once you're finished -- the beginning preparations should be done by then."
The distant sound of gunfire erupts from part of the permieter, a group of Alexandrian soldiers are clearly fighting off something. It remains clearly under control, however, even if the sensitive ears of the elves twitch or they give a flinch from the sound. This sort of thing is to be expected, probing efforts by the creatures of the woods, no doubt, that will assuredly seek to stop you once things get underway.
The wizards that came with you are moving to prepare their own role in the defense, having been able to conserve their magics largely on the account of the Alexandrians who cleared the way and escorted them as well. No doubt that will make a considerable difference when the tikme comes.
"Just a possibility," answers Maeva to Delilah, gently, "It could well have sealed itself up before it was breached, but there's no certainty that's true. And then there's the matter of the odd opals. I have a sense that we will find the answers to that within as well."
"Everythin' tries to kill you here." Carver informs Delilah, with a far off stare. "Even the tables and chairs." She looks like PTSD if they put on leather and fur and strapped a bow to it. She does start at the crack of a gunshot, sighing as she restrings her bow. Time to earn their pay.
"So, alright then, thank you, miss Maeva. We appreciate the help, and everyone getting ready to deal with this. Especially if these things aren't going to respond well to my usual options. Seems they might not react well to burning, unfortunately." Eztli nods. The small makari takes a few steps over, and reaches to pat Carver on the shoulder. "We'll be fine, Carver. I think." She reassures. "But Aelwyn's right. We need a plan for when we get in there."
Harkashan accepts the hand, shaking it, before releasing again. "Understood, Maeva. You may refer to me as Deathsinger Harkashan. Or Shaman." He then nods his head, and returns to his friends while others nearby are dealing with the various troublesome beings out there.
"Alright. Who needs healing of what kind? And who would enjoy a most Divine of meals?" He inquires with the group. After all, it seems like it'll take a bit for Maeva and the rest to get set up. So that means they have some time to do their own kinds of preparations.
"Oh, you brought snacks? I hope they're spicy." the goblin approves, having had dragonfolk cooking before - it burned but that was half the fun. "I'm okay after the night's unrestful rest. Weird dreams. Hopefully not prophetic ones." she says dismissively, sauntering over to where food might appear as if by magic.
Whirlpool"
"Guess I could use some healin'." Carver speaks up. "Hits me head, left me spinnin' a lil."
There is a _distinct_ flick of his head at the pats. "Remember to trust nothing, Lava." The ruddy sith-makar concedes with a tch, before straightening and walking away from the more diplomatic clerics. Aelwyn turns his head towards Carver and gives a grave nod. "No more jars." He replies and lets out a low rumble, pulling his glaive out. He was giving the edge a run up with his thumb; but eventually he puts out the fire of it.
"This one supposes the only other plan is to... dive in and touch crystals and hope they do not grow teeth?"
GAME: Harkashan refreshes spells.
GAME: Harkashan casts Heroes' Feast. Caster Level: 15 DC: 24
GAME: Harkashan casts Heal. Caster Level: 15 DC: 24
GAME: Harkashan casts Heal. Caster Level: 15 DC: 24
GAME: Harkashan casts Heal. Caster Level: 15 DC: 24
"In a way." Harkashan answers the Nameless Goblin, and kneels down. From his tailbag, he pulls a large cloth that he places onto the flattest piece of ground he can find... and then begins to pray.
From naught comes sustenance. Plates and all. A plentiful meal for easily fifteen people appears upon the cloth, including various spicy Sith-makar foods.
Harkashan invites everyone to sit around the cloth and partake. And as they do, he goes around the group for anyone who needs healing. Aelwyn, Eztli and the Nameless Goblin particularly looking the most affected by debilitating magics, getting the main attention from Harkashan at the time as they enjoy their meals, as time ticks on by.
"Right, that, dream. Is dream a good word? More like a nightmare, I guess." Eztli points out with others mentioning it, looking a bit bothered. "I've been thinking about it a bit. I don't know a ton about the gems, but it wasn't acting like a normal black opal. It was more, wrong. Not natural, like there was no light to it." The sorceress muses. "I think that, there was something not touching it like that love, something twisted. There's something working behind this."
The Alexandrians look thrilled. There's enough food for several of them to grab a little bit and enjoy its divine benefits, same with the elves really. Not enough for broad consumption across all the line, but enough for some and that more than matters.
Maeva, in the mean time, is readying her tools. Bells, reflective water in jugs, and more. Various accoutrements to aid her in her consecreation. Sprinkle thigns in moon water while she walks the perimiter, beginning to chant. Harkashan's assistance is more than welcome, but one can sense the touch of the divine power she is calling to before long. This will be a process. It isn't long after she starts, however, post-feast, that one can hear the signs of conflict up and down the line. The demons, amongst other creatures, are coming at the line of defense.
The white and brown makari nods in thanks with the healing magic. "Thanks, appreciate it Hark. Was getting a bit hard to move around there." She sighs, as a literal weight is lifted off her shoulders, before she sits down to eat. "One of these days you'll need to invite us over for dinner under more pleasant circumstances, Hark. It's a bit tiring always getting to enjoy your food right before going into life threatening situations."
"Ah, but does that not give it flavor?" Aelwyn asks from the other makari, "To feel the spice of death just near the precipice?" He flashes his teeth. His body felt more nimble, more stronger and - he could swing his glaive around like it didn't matter once more! Revitalized. Meaningful.
"This one remembers the opals. They were mentioned in that Guild meeting, yes? Does anyone still know what they are?" He chomps down on the nearest something he managed to snag for himself. "It has been many passings of the sun and moon alike, surely someone has an idea?"
"Well, when not going into life-threatening situations, I don't think I'd ask the Deathsinging Dragon for something to eat." Harkashan admits to Eztli. "So you'll have to deal with my home cooking instead. Assuming we're somewhere where there is the ability to cook some tlacos." He notes, before standing up after finishing his side of the meal.
"I am going to aid Maeva in consecrating the area. You all rest. You've been through a lot." As he notes, before stepping off towards the Elf and sits with her, aiding her in her casting and expanding the area of the consecration by establishing a small Altar for her.
GAME: Nameless rolls constitution: (2)+2: 4
emit "When someone says 'In a way', they usually mean 'no'." The goblin muses aloud, reaching out to find what the spiciest thing on the spread is and stuffing it into her face. She looks happy for a good five seconds before the spices kick in and her eyes widen in surprise and sudden warmth. "Ahh! I found the spice of death you were talking about! It's soooo hot!" You can almost see smoke come out her ears, and her face flushes. "Tell my family I died the way a goblin should." and she laugh-coughs while finding a drink to gulp down."
"When someone says 'In a way', they usually mean 'no'." The goblin muses aloud, reaching out to find what the spiciest thing on the spread is and stuffing it into her face. She looks happy for a good five seconds before the spices kick in and her eyes widen in surprise and sudden warmth. "Ahh! I found the spice of death you were talking about! It's soooo hot!" You can almost see smoke come out her ears, and her face flushes. "Tell my family I died the way a goblin should." and she laugh-coughs while finding a drink to gulp down.
GAME: Eztli rolls knowledge/arcana: (7)+9: 16
GAME: Nameless rolls knowledge/arcana+4: (2)+19+4: 25
GAME: Eztli casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 12 DC: 17
As the Irregulars move to join the battle in progress, Maeva walks the line. She instructs Harkashan to walk counter with her, and offers him a bottle of the reflective moon water, adding that she expects he will convey his own efforts his own way, but she asks that he simply respect that the grounds are Elunan -- not that he expects he wouldn't. It Just Bears Saying, she says.
A long, singing prayer to Eluna.
...they will recognize it. Every time they went up the stairs in the spires, the same notes were played, and Harkashan assuredly recognizes the recreation of the song in question. As she does, however, the lines along the perimeter in question grow embattled as creatures, demon tainted wildlife compelled into a frenzy, surge into the defending warriors, not to mention lower ranked demons themselves. Faceless, squalid warriors rending into them with tooth and claw and being slain in turn by the might of steel and magic force. This is an army that has trained and fought together, well honed and ready. Veterans of war in Sendor and the constant skirmishes along the border, or traned by those who have. Their steely resolve is implacalbe, aided by the arrows and swords and magic of the Mythwood, and the bolstering force of their battle songs and the aid of the irregulars coming to join them.
"FOR THE PHOENIX," yells an ALexandrian commander, raising his blade high.
Harkashan accepts the offered moonwaters, and bows his head. "Understood." Is as simply an answer as he gives in that moment. Indeed, he would be respectful. Though Eluna may not be the Goddess he prays to, he has much to thank her for when it comes to Rune.
As such, he begins to walk the path. Casting a few protecting spells upon him that make it so that his enemies cannot approach him so easily. Watching, listening, as demons approach from all around them. No doubt hoping to halt the very thing that he and Maeve are doing.
Yet he does not let it distract him. The warriors of Mythwood, and his allies, both know what is at stake here. Both will put in the needed efforts. So his humming orated song rises in the air, remembering the song given to him in Mythwood itself. Singing the same song of Eluna, of those staircases...
GAME: Harkashan rolls Knowledge/Religion: (9)+17: 26
Aelwyn had not before engaged in such a large fight before. Yet - what is a stage if not a large battle for attention. When the cry calls, the ruddy and ribboned makari flicks his glaive to the side - and then raises his burning glaive and hand in the air, the former seeping fire down his arm.
"Come!" He calls out to the horde of monsters. "Let us today, burn together in fire and dance over our charred remains!" And then he rushes in in his characteristically recklessly flashy style of combat. He'd always single out the most menacing looking opponent and then whirl and toy with the creature - usually more as a distraction for others to cut in, more than actual damage.
But on the other hand, the red ribboned fighter and Knight-Errant of the Cockatrice, did seem to know how to handle themselves - or at least, not get instantly murdered.
Every army can use some artillery support, and this goblin is happy to provide, lobbing an explosion of fire into the middle of where the enemy clusters the most, sending a group of minor demons on the short route back to wherever they came from. After that, some more precise magical support shows up from the back where the troops seem to be faltering. It's nice to hang in the back and help out without someone trying to murder you right back.
Properly healed and with a decent enough rest behind them, Eztli was able to enjoy the meal, at least for some time. The small makari was able to prepare their wards again, which only left... waiting. An uncomfortable air to the place and she looked incredibly ill at ease. At least it didn't last too long, and suddenly, they were beset by, things. Lots of small enemies was the makari's specialty however, as there was suddenly a small, but formidable brass dragon joining the fray, spraying flames over huge swaths of demons at a time.
Opening strange doors really isn't Delilah's forte, so the golden-haired sorceress elects to join in the fight. She draws her gun, walkign with purpose to a good, commanding position where she can see... well, as much as you can see in a forest. As the creatures get close, she advances to the front, advising all the more common soldiers to get clear; and while an unarmored sorceress claiming the front might seem strange, they let her do it.
She raises a freezing wall, that makes the incoming demons stop in their tracks, fascinated by what they see; and then the real fireworks start. Delilah's brands glow a brilliant blue to match her eyes, as she traces arcane symbols in the air; a storm starts above her, that rains fire down around her, and she flings explosive blasts off into the woods.
And when things get too close... she conjures a web, catching them in its grasp and motioning the soldiers forwards, to stab them with their longest reaching weapons.
The battle rages.
At least there is no sign of the opal stones as of yet. Those stones, containing fel energies that have corrupted wildlife and elements into doing *something's* bidding, have yet to show themselves at the moment. It's perhaps a relief, but also a concern. The answers to that riddle as of yet remains ahead of you.
But the battle raging now takes your attention. Despite the skills drilled into the soldiers, facing demons and demoinic wildlife is not for the faint of heart, and as the song draws to a rising crescendo of a climax, it grows ever more frenzied. A rising surge of fel rage against the lines --- which falter in the face of it. Warriors fall, overrun by demonic power and the lines are threatening to be broken. Worse, flying demons have begun to make an appearance, lightning brewing between vulture-like beasts above. Vrocks, they're called. SOme of you have fought them before.
... but they have come too late.
It begins with a single spark along the line walked by the elven priestess Maeva and the shaman Harkashan. A single spark of silver fire that erupts into a blazing self-same fire. It runs along the length of the perimeter, growing ever higher into a shrouding, blazing veil. Where it touches a demon, they are simply ... *gone*. Each of you feel a wave of rage, of oppression, of power surging that makes these flames flicker and then a great sense of *something* breaking free, breaking open. The fires rise higher still and the crescent half-moon of Eluna shimmers into being over the battle field, like a single, watchful eye gazing over you.
The vrocks are washed over by silver fire, vanishing, as do many others.
And then its gone, the demons retreating back into the cursed fel woods -- but these grounds, here, though still tainted and in need of hallowing, are free. The song ends, silence falling for a moment but for the cries of the wounded that yet live.
These grounds are free.
With a mammoth clank, the great door to the temple cracks open.
With the fighting dying down, the small dragon, more than a bit battered but still alive, is left with the important job of dragging the wounded over to the clerics. After she stopped to marvel at what just happened, of course. "Was that you guys, or the temple?" She growls. "Seems like, that door's open now right? Just what in the world ended up triggering it, after all that?"
Aelwyn skewers a particularly annoying demon down and feels that sense of relief - and then everything is cast in that silver fire. "... hngh, this one could appreciate this." He rumbles and slowly gets back up onto his feet - once again bloodied and battered, but grinning all the same. Walking towards the doors, he pauses, shaking his head. "This one does not trust that temple; but anything with that much fire cannot be wholly evil." He flashes his teeth.