Welcome to Gaia! ::

Umbra looks off to the side in dismay. That none here can understand him, limits just how much they can help.

Well, they seem to understand a bit of my situation...

Umbra carefully reaches out for his blade with one hand and slowly sheathes it over his back.

"Thanks. But if you could, please get me some clothes more suitable to this climate?"

Speaking as if he could be understood, just in case... he also points to the man's own attire, then waves a hand over himself, trying to get the need across.

Umbra graciously accepts the clothes. Then, thinking of what else to be done before heading off, he motions for food and drink.

Assuming the man leaves to comply, Umbra changes into the desert garb. Plain and unassuming - what better way to dress for a ninja.

Umbra quickly dons the clothing offered him. Though when it comes to losing his pants and boots, he thinks twice. There very well could be a time when he would need to shed a layer.

And then that phantom of a man reappears before him.

With a sigh, Umbra turns to face him.

"... My clan's code is broken through deliberate action, not carelessness. And by revealing myself to these people I have acquired their aid... Regretfully, I admit that I was caught off-guard by the presence of so many sin-eaters, and did the best I could in that particular moment."

He stops to adjust the clothing.

"I do not believe that your cause is lost.... I marked one of them. Unless they have fled to another dimension, there is nowhere they can hide from me, now..."

The ninja gives a questioning look to the phantom, clearly waiting for an answer to the contrary.

The shades all frozen. For Athan, none of it might have existed beyond the one with the large red eye and the knight, where all attention seemed to be fixed, but even as Kael let his ears go to their words, he could feel the tension of these things packing the room. Far more than he could deal with. All of them... far more than all of them could deal with if they really tried. Those golems had been a help, a great deal of it. But if the shades came in numbers on just four of them...

Another... Moam? What is he saying?

It was a tense standoff, but Kael still couldn't help but deny every syllable coming from the shadelord's lack of a mouth. He already knew the absolute resolve Alpha had. All the shades might have been thralls in a way that were pulled to service, warped to the ideal of DESTRUCTION, of NOTHING, a sign that even the creature Omikron was now had once been a head of their armies here. But Alpha was different. Kael had seen his unhindered wit, and absolute determination. Alpha was his own antithesis, a will, mind, and power without equally, clearly individual and existent dedicated absolutely to the Unmaker, the Forgotten One. He'd been told Alpha was as dangerous of words, insidious and even still insightful and charismatic, as he was of fist. But none of what he'd heard touched Kael. He didn't understand how it could. This thing- this man- was dedicated to the End. Not a bit of destruction. Not of Kael's own death. It was beyond a question of morals. It was beyond philosophy, or survival instinct. Everything Alpha said- anything he could have- was merely noise to Kael. He would not, COULD NOT be convinced, however much other people might have talked of wavering. Maybe it was the "heroic" background each other man in this fight seemed to have that Kael lacked. Maybe it was some insight into their background or connection one lacked to Kael, but he couldn't imagine moving an inch. The facts were simple and straightfoward. All of Alpha's actions were measured toward that Destruction.

And Kael would not see it happen.

Everyone he knew would die eventually. They'd fade away. Hell if he knew if they'd come back, or be due for something better, or worse. He'd go too, likely sooner than many, and chances were more painfully. But it didn't matter if the Forgotten might have offered the most painless end possible to each and every one of them. To simply cease to be. To leave nothing. As if to never have been at all. He was jaded, and could have understood a dust-to-dust attitude perhaps. But it went far beyond the most eloquent of ideas and fell hard an next to the basest things available to him.

It meant the envelopment and unmaking of the world he knew, every effort he had made, every experience, every emotion he'd endured. And the rest of the world be damned, if he'd had to make the choice, his family, his friends, the people who had counted on him, who he'd let worm their way into his heart. Loved. Gone. The sheer emotion that welled up at the thought of letting them vanish at any cost, every bit as selfish as one could construe it as selfless...

It wasn't an idea he could even entertain.

And yet.... the Knight's reaction was different. He didn't call out a lie or shout down Alpha. He seemed... frightened and defensive almost. Had the shadelord gotten to him somehow? No, there was truth to these words. Even if they couldn't sway him, there might be something he could use, something to turn back against the shadelord... to find Eden and make good on his word. But... wait, who had he not watched die? He'd been shown... he knew what had become of the Vagrant. He hadn't manipulated him, only given him some strength to go back and do what he'd meant to all along. Aerii? No, he was a shade practically for certain... a shadelord, more than likely. And suddenly, from there, the cogs in Kael's mind took off. What else had he seen? What more had he watched? The Knight and a golem... and...

No. There was one other person who was at the heart of this all the more it came back. Someone who had been in it since the beginning, since Moam. Somebody who was practically a legend in his own right, who everything he'd been told or seen had led him to believe was soul of the strongest sort and dedication. Able to stir the hearts of thousands with his words, mighty in combat. The words had been meant for Athan, whom all the attention was focused on, he was sure. But even so, there was one man. A hero, who, at the end of Moam, he had seen fall...

...but not die.

Kael's eyes focused sharply upon the shadelord.








But this was no dream he knew.

For an instant, the panic pressed in, as powerful as it had ever been. Suffocating. Flashes of steel and red superimposed themselves over the world trying to come into focus. Whispers forced their way in and slowly faded away as he tried hard to focus, forcing the body it felt as though he didn't have to still shakes, to settle, his mind to come to level and focus. He could do this. He'd been through this. It was but another of the dreams whatever this force was had diverted his sleep into time and time again. The fact that he was awake didn't make it any different. Focus past the panic, the memories. The pain and rage. The whispers and sounds that weren't his own. Just this. Focus.

It was so much harder, for some reason. Not the seamless dream that had always caught him up, it felt forced and open, as if a door smashed open and left ajar behind it where the other had connected softly, as the visions imposed themselves.

Some... place. Alpha was there. And a blue eyed shade. Standing over...

Commander Ezra?

So he had survived the attack on the camp. But now he was on the ground. And yet, they didn't kill him. It was just like at the camp. Like he and these shades knew each other, as they stood over some conquest, almost like how Alpha and Aerii had seemed half familiar as he'd seen them speak, over and over and over in his dreams. Other faces. Things he didn't know, movin-



A jolt went down his spine, but forcibly, he ignored it, ignored the creeping feeling and reasonless rage welling in the back of his mind. The panic it brought on. Focus on what was in front of him. He could learn from this.

Only none of it made sense. None of it he knew, until Ezra picked himself up and forced his way past his enemies, past his injured ally, over toward... what was that? Something that must have been deadly important. It felt strange. Alien, confusing. Yet...







His mind raced, feeling blindly in a thousand directions at dead sprint as he tried to reel it in. It was that thing. That force- it had a hand in all of this, he was sure. It... was meant to decide something. Something, he wasn't sure what. But somehow it had everything to do with Alpha. With Ezra. With Moam, with Gaia, and with Athan and himself. Like the old man. Only these... he thought he knew what these were. THIS was what he was supposed to see, what he'd been waiting for, he was sure of it. Six of them, he counted. Six objects. Six voices. Like fingers on the hand of fate- if he had to make a bet, he would take it. The Knights of Anima.





It was more urgent, more forceful this time as the dream, the memory faded. Violent and intrusive- in a way that spoke of belonging, pride, outrage. Almost as if it was him intruding in on someone else's home, their mind, to find them coming down the steps outraged, a shotgun in hand. This time it was stronger. It was more focused and clear, less blurry. It was angry and spiteful, not in a way any voice could be, but channeling the emotion, all of it, straight into his mind half as though it were his own, a part of his own mind or body. Growing. Becoming clear, focused. A giant red eye, not the shadelord's, no, a human eye searing with fury, and an iris red as blood.



It had been well over a year since he'd known the sheer force of absolute consumption into terror that overtook his mind, his body.

Steel. Blood. Battle. Horses and men killing and falling upon each other. Waves of loss and fury and pride, a thousand battles and the sensations of the men in them, cut and cutting, feeling and thinking, flooding together. Whispers. Other voices muted, crying out or whispering, a thousand different messages.

Childhood, resentment, determination, wonder. Growing. Confusion.

The feeling of a sword in hand.

Love. Wonder and sense of feeling, of the world becoming right. Holding hands. Flashes of moments of sex. Friendship. Romance.

Family, brotherhood, a long overdue sense of belonging.

That sword dripped with blood, and on the other end...

Pain. Death. Fury. Loss. Blood by the gallons. Voices, whispers, intrusive, everywhere. Loss and brimming, anger and resentment sharpened by guilt, tempered by helplessness, nurtured by time. Waiting.

The skewered body flashed a thousand faced, warping and twisting together. Loved and hated, some of them both. He knew who it was supposed to be... but he saw everyone. Everyone He had ever known. No, not Rayner. Someone else. Someone... someone he had never wanted to see again, never...

All of it shoved into him as though physically down his throat, forcefully projected in bold clarity, flashes he'd seen once upon a time but long since forgotten. Seen through someone else's eyes...

He saw the moment where he had fought his way free from it all, flashes of blue, and the warm feeling of Owle at his side as his body nearly gave out, and together, the struggle ended and he forced his way free, taking his own mind back. Taking his own body back. Shoving the intruder that had been a part of him, that he'd almost allowed himself to become... welcomed in and taken for a greater end, his "Fate" or "Destiny" before he'd forcibly rejected the ideas. The sheer rage brimming as it pulled away... the last time outside of a weak echo in a dream that he'd ever seen...





Without warning he awoke from the dream, and pulled free of the dream, and found gravity, fatigue, sensation, pain, all suddenly acting on his body as it arced with the power of the sudden surge of adrenaline and fear coursing through like a tsunami, now as his mind crashed to the rest of him firmly planted back in reality, and-



Kael collapsed forward onto his hands, and violently emptied his stomach across the floor of the cavern. The only saving graces of the matter were the sudden clarity it offered his mind, emptying much of the panic and emotion as it crumpled his body into a shaking mess, and the fact that after trekking through the desert there was nothing left to put out after the first burst, leaving him dry heaving.

Vessels... of judgement?

The thing. He was sure of it now. But it still didn't make sense. What was that thing? What did he mean "now they knew"? It didn't make sense, perhaps because he was still trying to fight down the panic enough to listen. Alpha was gone, vanishing already and... what the hell was compromised? Had something changed just from that vision? No he...

Because not enough things had gone wrong so far this day.

He forced himself to his feet, body still quivering and shaking in protest as he forced it to motion, and bore his teeth, watching, as the power came out, and yet another curtain was cast aside on the show they were watching, even as he used his coat for another. He wasn't sure how well he could fight just now, not until his body had some time to quit shaking and get its strength back. And so he reached for his belt...

Kael froze, and his eyes went wide, as the golem appeared behind Ezra, surrounded by energy.

...no. I was wrong.

Behind Athan the purple figure rose and took shape, something indistinct, that Kael didn't recognize. Behind himself, he could almost feel the stones and energy rising, the force of whatever it was, this decision. He gripped his sword tighter, and straightened, as he pulled the revolver from his belt in the left hand.

Not two. Three.

Athan. Me. And...



This day just got a lot harder.

As if on cue, the shades pitched their bit into the bad-to-worse demonstration of why one should never disregard what Saturday morning cartoons had taught them. The rook moved- and it was hard to miss that much mass shifting so close to you- and Kael spun. But it was... moving away? It- oh s**t.

"LOOK OUT!"

Too slowly. Legs too shaky. Goddamn-

Raising the revolver Kael aimed as best he could manage quickly with a single hand and a weapon he wasn't accustomed too, trying to look down the barrel- and just on cue Thomas' voice pitched in. Surges of panic and memory. His arm shook and shuddered like a dozen hands were physically fighting to push or pull it this way and that. No time. Couldn't reaim, couldn't drop his sword, just a deep breath and- the revolver went off with a deafening roar, bucking his hand back up, half way to pointing the thing at the ceiling. Too damn powerful. Too far. Too much beyond his expertise. He couldn't tell if he'd hit the rook or not, but he certainly hadn't dropped it. No more time. No more- had to- goddamn-

'I don- not-shitshitshit- EVERYONE- godd- OUTOF-fu-OUT OF MY HEAD. Can't-cantcant-think straight-'

Thomas was droning into his head, even as Kael forced deep breaths, looking from the shades back to him, and Athan, while he forced himself to calm down a bit and not panic at the voice. This was Thomas, and just a broadcast. Think of it like a radio. He could do this.

Athan, facing down with Ezra, god knows what sort of rage and frustration and confusion. There were a handful of people in the world Kael genuinely liked a great deal, enough to really call friends, ever since he'd slipped to this half of it. Even less, much less of them, that he had absolute confidence in. That Kael trusted, and practically thought to be beyond his reach- capable of nearly anything. Invincible. People who he, instead of worrying about, took inspiration or confidence from. Athan had always been one of both of those categories. But at this ********. I need to get over there...

And yet, he couldn't leave Thomas undefended or the others...

He shut his eyes, and focused, trying again, putting all his concentration into speaking clearly, and doing so without panicking.

'Thomas, the guns. Cover yourself, hold as many shades off our backs as you can. They can catch what slips through. I have to-'

To go make sure make sure I'm ready if it's my turn to pay back the big guy and pull his a** out of the fire.

He gritted his teeth, opened his eyes, and focused everything into his composure, into steeling his mind, focusing. One body. One task. One focus. Everything, all the pain, anger, desperation, pure stubborness- take it all and channel it one direction and keep it all in his sight. Filter out all the rest, just let it be noise, touch his mind, but not shift his focus. It was the only way. He had to focus himself, and do it harder than he ever had before.

Slowly his body started to recover itself, as he stepped past the puddle and tightened the grip on the Vagrant Soul until his knuckles went white inside the gloves. He was staring down a lot of danger. A lot of ways things could go wrong. But he'd done it before. This time, he just had to come out on top. Needed to more badly than ever before.

We've come this far together, Kael. There's no going back, and the stakes are getting bigger. Just for a little bit... lend me the strength. Give me everything you've got.

WE CAN DO THIS.

The swordsman forced himself to motion, keeping an eye open for dangers as he tried to navigate his way to Athan- first priority to keep other shades off his back- and second... well... Athan wasn't the only one with a stake in this bigger than this battle, or the only one who knew the commander. He wasn't the only one who it was all really beginning to piss off. And sooner or later, a guy got tired of standing in the background when the big s**t went down. He didn't even recognize the sound coming from his throat as he took off, a touch of fear and adrenaline spiking in his belly.

Like a maniac, what could he do but laugh?

"So quick to anger and so slow to forgive..." Ezra looked up and stared down Athan as he talked, "You're just like him."

Ezra stood as Athan's verbal assault continued. As havoc began to emerge all around him. The two fingers and thumb on his loose and large stone arm clenched to a fist as Athan continued his diatribe. He shook his head and looked just as hollow. It was true, that he had lived for as long or longer than Athan said. He didn't look a day older than he had at Syntaxis, or even any older than at the camp, but he felt it. It was the little details, the sunken defeated look in his eyes, the grimace at every word Athan said, the tight grip on his sword. Everything about him was that of a man that had seen too much.

"Is that what this is about to you? Alpha?" He shook his head again, "Alpha is a symptom of the disease. It has forever to find a new Alpha should this one fall. It has forever to do anything!"

Athan charged, Ezra didn't budge.

"Millions, twice as many." He cocked back his stone arm, "This isn't about Gaia or Moam. It will not eat one world and be content, this is about INFINITE people Athan! Against a foe we have no chance against. We gave everything Athan. Everything and then some."

The blade heft over Athan's head and that's when the knight began to make his move. His fencer's stance allowing much more lateral mobility than Athan's head on charge would. Moving one foot back would become a sidestep to the left with quite a bit of wiggle room considering the heavy sword. Then the cocked fist shot out with perfect timing, stone knuckles resonated against the flat of Athan's sword with an impact that cracked off pieces of the stone. It didn't phase Ezra. He hadn't felt anything in that arm since he was home, now was no different. His following swordstrike was simple and accurate. He'd have to step in considering the length of Athan's sword, but he went for a thrust at Athan's right shoulder, aiming as close to the joint and armpit as he could.

"It wasn't enough." Distinct sadness in his voice, "It will never be enough."


"We're all in that not dying boat. In fact I'm hoping what I'm in is LITERALLY the not dying boat." Thomas' voice rung out in response to Ruby, "Guns and Golems, got it. Though I'm gonna keep trying to get this beast off the ground. I don't know about you guys, but with all these shades I do not want to be here longer than necessary."

Rook, still swinging an overhead slam as Rage and Ruby dove out of the way. However it suddenly recoiled as a heavy calibre bullet passed through both it's outstretched arms causing a spray of forgotten matter to go everywhere. Taking advantage of that recoil the golem reentered, grabbing one of it's arms with two hands and pulling back against the thrashing shade. Trying to give the other two a few moments to figure something out. Thomas even tried to fire off a few shots, but it seemed the only available gun was a forward pointed turret with most of it's mobility disabled. The shots of metamagical blue energy roared out and shot into the approaching shades, doing a fairly decent amount of damage as they created a small explosion on impact.

Kael's charge was interrupted by a few shades that were close enough to be separated from the pack. One charged him head on with a spear out, it's red eye looking him right in the face. The other tired to flank him, approaching from Kael's right side with two hands on it's b*****d sword holding it low. If it got close enough it would slash diagonally upward left to right, and it would likely be in range a bit before the spear shade. However there would be a note of resonance from the Vagrant Soul. One Kael giving the other a heads up the red eye trying to sneak in on his side while the one with the spear distracted.

"You need to be careful out there, kid. There's nothing more dangerous than a trapped animal, particularly when it's injured. A truly bestial instinct takes over when most any creature is facing it's inevitable end." While not up to the standards of schooling of most of the rest of Gaia, Rage's early years were full of knowledge taught at the Acorn Grade school - primarily about survival.

Unfortunately, Rage remembered none of this as his most basic "don't die" and "kill it kill it kill it kill it" instincts started to kick in. His vision was finally starting to clear up, and as he propped himself up on one of his swords not unlike a cane, he realized that he was, in fact, still alive.

That was a plus.

He and the others were also still surrounded by gods-knew-how-many shades.

That was a minus.

And now he was suddenly covered in black blood from whatever just tried to rip the Rook a new one.

That was another minus. Now he was getting into negative numbers. Rage didn't much like negative numbers - math was never his strong suit. However, fuzzy math or not, one thing was (literally) painfully obvious.




Rational thought broke down completely - the words pressing against his brain were just an echo of the world he had previously been a part of, as all he could do was identify who was friend and who was foe. His left foot struck out, his body abandoning it's resting pose on his blade. His right foot followed. Left.

Right.

Left.
Right.
Left.
Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left right left right leftrightleftrightlrlrlrlrlrlr



It was so peaceful, without the hard ground under his feet. For just a moment, as he sailed through the air, Rage had a moment to reflect on what he was doing. How incredibly stupid it was for him to be doing this, how likely he was just going to get himself killed. Even so - it hadn't stopped him so far in life. Axel... you got this far, try not to screw up now.

"GrrrrrryeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

K-shink-k-shink-thud.

As the golem held the shade back, Rage plunged both of his blades into the nearest available flesh. His right sword firmly planted, he drew out the left, then jammed it in again. And again. And again. And again. AND AGAIN.

What little rational thought he had left was coming back to him. This thing had hurt him. At least, he was pretty sure it, or something like it, had hurt him. He was going to hurt it. He didn't expect to kill it. He wasn't even sure it could feel pain. Hell, he figured there was a seventy percent chance that he'd be turned into a fleshy stress relief ball in just a few seconds (math is power!).

"But dammit, someone had better do something to kill this thing!"

He screamed in his own head as he continued stabbing at the Rook.