[Order vs Chaos] SANCTUARY - Printable Version

As the Praetor stepped into view, Wilder's eyes widened in shock at how big it was. This...was nothing like what she had experienced with the Hive before. Far beyond the strength she thought they would have. She looked around in a sudden panic and realized that most of the gembound here were far outclassed in terms of size. This was bad.

And chaos was quickly descending. The horse had leaped out to strike the insectoid monstrosity instantly and others were pleading with them - but Mother did not listen to pleading or reason. She was order and all that was not order would be destroyed. They would all be destroyed. Out of desperation for a moment of clarity before clarity was lost, her magic struck out and everything slowed, almost to a halt. She had a moment, now. To think and process.

But what could she do right now? She needed to protect them. But what could she do when her magic had failed her? What if something happened and she was swayed to the other side again? What if she failed like she had time and time before, made the wrong decision again and again and again until there was nothing else she could do but beg for forgiveness or wish for a different life, not one so consumed with suffering and mistakes and wrong and she couldn't do it she couldn't do this again she was going to fail she'd fail them all she could never do anything right

Suddenly a sharp urging pressed against her mind and she realized it was Vaati, affected by the magic as well, trying to get her attention. She turned her focus to him and could see herself through his eyes - fur bushed out, breathing rapid, ears pressed against her head. She was panicking. She didn't have much time left before the spell ended and she needed to calm down.

Vaati's presence was warm and grounding. She latched onto it, not able to slow her heartbeat in the slowed time, but enough to collect her thoughts. And when she asked herself what can I do to protect them?, when she laid out all her abilities and possibilities in front of her, she remembered an offer from long ago. As thanks for his creation, he had promised to run to her side. A guardian. Someone to protect them.

As the spell ended and time sped back to its normal pace, Wilder leaped to her feet and called out as loud as she could into Canis - "AETHER GOLD-MOTH! I NEED YOU!! Protect these gembound!!"

The kick proved to be but a glancing blow, the Praetor's head jerking back with the prescience of one warned by an outside force. It hissed, chattering, but quickly stilled.

Teosar pushed forward, thick fangs bared, whiskers bristling. A flickering shield of energy rose up before him. "LEAVE THIS PLACE," he growled, despite the fear trembling in his roar. The Praetors glanced at him, at Relic with her wings spread, at Asteri's shield raised--assessing. Considering. One tensed-

There was a flurry of black feathers. A creature clearly an amalgamation appeared, fully eight feet tall and immensely long, black-winged and moth-legged. It swept down, landing by Teosar's side as if in solidarity, muzzle wrinkling up to bare its own teeth. This was Aether Goldmoth, guardian of Wilder. "Again, you have called me. I sought you," it rasped, its voice long unused, not sparing a glance backward to her. It sounded almost mournful. "I could not find-... But this time. I am closer." It took a threatening step for the Praetors. Wings rose and flared, a shield beside Taosar's own.

The Praetors paused again. Assessing. One looked to Aethereal--and pointed one long, grasping forelimb. It appeared to be... waiting, for something.

The other turned, and scuttled slowly back the way it had come.

The Gembound in this thread are now safe, unless they attack the Praetor outright. This Praetor appears only to be awaiting something from Aethereal.

The situation unfolded with one action after another, bringing them to a tense standoff like gears of a mechanical device clicking into place. The black horse's kick, the Praetor's dodge; Relic, Asteri, and Teosar's steadfast defense; Wilder's call and the arrival of the mothlike creature Aether. Aethereal held perfectly still, Scars perched alert on her shoulder, as she waited for what the Praetors would do.

Her heart jumped as one stared straight at her with cold compound eyes, and lifted a jagged forelimb. Yet it did not attack, nor try to come closer. Its partner turned, and left: a gesture of peace?

It was her turn to keep her end of the promise, Aethereal supposed. Once more she reached out, trying to connect her mind to the Praetor's--only to be suddenly overcome with the suffocating sense of being encased in ice. She tensed, tail flicking agitatedly. Everything was so itchy and claustrophobic and stiff, and it was sensory hell. How in the world did the Praetors live like this? If it hadn't been for Scars's sensory feed, she might have assumed that the Praetor had cast some horrific magic on her to actually make her forcibly grow an exoskeleton.

"Sorry," she forced past the intense discomfort. "The magic's not cooperating--just give me a second, I'll get it eventually." She could feel her Oily neck-opening heating with embarrassment, but consoled herself with the thought that at least there was nothing life-and-death at stake here anymore.

He was thrust from the present moment into the Not-Now. It tastes of the dream- of before he had become himself. The wolf and the garden and the centaur and the end. It wasn't a dream though- it was a continuation of the moment, cut off from the present. He listened to the guiding voice, watched the Importance filter through the static. Wisdom settling upon his mind like snowfall upon grass. The others were Autonomous- all but a few. The chaos-beast he begrudgingly tolerated. The violet-and-stardust one, the black dog-bird. And one like him. The horse. The last he regarded with particular interest. He had no desire for kinship- at least, he didn't think he did- but curiosity struck at his core.

There wasn't time for any of it.

Because he was thrust suddenly and violently into the now. Disoriented by the recoil of his new knowledge, it took him a moment to get his bearings, and by that time the others were already sprung into action.

Insectoid beasts, soldiers of mother- two of them. The horse sprung to violence- a true protector of Natural Order- but the rest stood fast, defensive but not offensive. He frowned. Maybe it was the Autonomy that clouded them. He bared his teeth, readied for a fight, even as the massive moth-guardian landed. Even when the tiger raised his shield. He only stood down because the Enemy seemed to be reconsidering. He knew when to pick his battles, especially with the weak in their midst.

Even if he hated it.

He stepped beside Teosar, on the opposite side of Aether, completing the barricade. His gaze trained on the one remaining Praetor. And Aethereal.

"If you want to speak to the enemy, do it somewhere else." He spoke, nodding curtly at Aethereal. Confusion grew, gnawing at him, as this was not know he innately knew Chaos to act. It was something he would investigate, if war weren't upon them all. "It endangers us all with it's presence."

The moment had approached, in which the largest of the gathered gembound were facing off with the approaching soldier of Order. Wilder felt relief flood her nerves as a black shape swept forward and landed in front of them - Aether had come. Things did not seem as dire or dangerous, with his powerful figure watching over them, with Teosar and Asterisk and Wulfsige protecting them.

”Aether…thank you.” She stepped up behind the line, not joining them, as she doubted she would make for a very impressive figure, but looked from between their ranks, studying the Praetor. It was…waiting for something. It wanted something from the beast of Chaos. She glanced at Aethereal and felt both sympathy for magic failed and also apprehension. Was it smart to…connect to these creatures? Would Mother take advantage of that link?

She focused on the Praetor and opens a link. Not between herself and it, but between herself and it’s future. What would it do, if Aethereal continued to fail? Or when she succeeded? What would her choices, and all of their choices, lead to in the near future? With an intense will and cast, the magic flooded her mind, to open visions before her.

For an impossibly long moment, Astéri tenses, expecting any moment for one of those long, raptorial limbs to strike at the barrier between them. The air in front of him is so thick it shimmers in a mirage-haze, his urge to protect given physical form. It's... comforting, in a way, but Astéri refuses to let his guard down.

Even as more of them join the protective line, a wall against the horrors that the Hive might bring.

Even as one of the terrible mantis-bug-things skitters away.

Because there is still one there, pointing insistently at the dripping creature that the wolf had wanted to force away just moments before; he understands a little better, now, why he'd wanted to do such a thing. She's just standing there, trying her best to pull on whatever damn magic she has for communicating—telepathy? One of his sisters did the same thing—and the insect is still there.

How had he known that this one might be closer to the enemy than Astéri thought? He doesn't know; he just knows that every moment the insect stays is another moment danger still lurks on their doorstep.

"The wolf is right," he says to Aethereal; not angry, but his voice is heavy. "Go do that—somewhere else. Please."

The tiny little half-grown dragon is still underneath him, using his shield as protection after stumbling to the front lines. Astéri dares to take his eyes off the insect that still remains for a split-second, nudging at him gently with his nose. He pumps more magic into the barrier before him as he does so, trying to keep it up—to the dragon, he murmurs, "Go back behind the walls, cub. We'll keep you safe."

The wolfdog was right, of course, and Aethereal chastised herself viciously for having been so unthinking. There were children here, so young and vulnerable, and warriors ready to die to defend them despite their own fear, and here she was, putting them in greater danger. What was she doing? Just because she had known Mother for less than two weeks, and the Praetor was not showing aggression right now, didn't meant that their intentions weren't dubious at best. The situation was still capable of turning dangerous in an instant without warning.

"You're right, both of you," she apologized, bowing her not-head at each of them in turn. "I'm sorry--I'll go now." Gently, she tried to nudge Scars toward the back of the group, where he at least would be safe, only to meet a gentle, firm refusal as he clung tighter to her fur. I've survived worse, the Echoing Grey seemed to think, and besides, they should always stick together. Perhaps the rat was emboldened by Aethereal's own attitude toward the Praetors: still blissfully unaware of the deadly venom in their fangs, she thought that they posed a serious threat to the smaller Gembound, but surely she had a good chance of escaping them should they attack, especially with her wings?

As she slunk out of the shelter of the bone fortress toward the waiting Praetor and past the defenders' line, she cast out her magic again, and felt an overwhelming rush of relief as they finally connected. Now, finally, they could communicate and each know what the other was thinking--there would be no more hiding the truth from either of them.

Now a wash of inquiry from her mind to the Praetor's: this was Mother's child, right? What was going on? What was this war they spoke of? And vague memories of Master Vargas' warning that Order sought to destroy them all, that she had been deceived--what did Mother have to say in response to that?

For most of them, there'd only be silence: a Praetor standing, silently staring, at Aethereal. Teosar, waiting, tensed among the other guardians.

For Wilder, the room seemed to plunge into a thick, white fog. No-... a webbing, clotting the entirety of the room. The Praetors were gone. Those around her were gone. Massive webs drifted past on a breeze, leaving clouds of spores behind them.

Reality shifted, dizzying, like one world being swept out from underpaw to be replaced by another: the Praetor turning, Aethereal bounding after it, calling out in desperation.

The world shifted. Calm converation--fear, yes, but a calling out, a communication. One Praetor approached, and with a swipe of its scythelike forelimbs, lopped the head of another clean off.

For Aethereal, the sense of patient waiting would rapidly become clear. There was a hivemind there, beyond and behind the Praetor's thoughts, but that was beyond the reach of her magic for the moment--blocked away from even the Praetor by Mother. Instead, the thought--Mother's thought--came along that link with crystalline clarity.

"I am... pleased to see you well, child. No--stay there. Tell the rest: stay there. They are not our concern. They will be safe from this battle so long as they remain here." As to the rest: a quizzical tilt of the Praetor's head, and Mother's matter-of-fact reply: "We are purging the House of Chaos from this tainted nest."

Order vs Chaos: Sanctuary is considered complete, and may be exited as the Gembound present wish. The Praetors will not make an attempt to attack--though they will defend themselves as needed. (Please GM Tag for any such actions.)

Aethereal should GM tag after her response.

To an outsider, there would be a moment of stillness as Aethereal stood there, unmoving, the communication between minds inscrutable to any observer. Then, finally, there would be movement as the scarred Echoing Gray clutching to her pale fur scampered down her shoulder and back into the bone fortresses. While its Greater companion remained still and silent outside the entrance, it darted back inside and stood up on two legs, nose quivering, before it opened its mouth and spoke in an eerie imitation of Aethereal's voice.

"She says to stay here. The ants didn't come for--" it stammered a bit, apparently unsure of which pronoun to use. "--for you. She says you will be safe as long as you stay here." It did not completely comprehend the words it spoke, but it picked up on the reassuring tone it was meant to convey, and tried to work this into its voice. Then, its message delivered, it groomed its whiskers for a quick second before scurrying out again to return to its friend and comrade.

Because there was a terrible amount of concerning emotions coming from the other end of its familiar link, and good heavens if it didn't think the Valkhound could use some emotional support by her side.

Purging the House of Chaos from this tainted nest. The Praetor still made no move to attack as Mother spoke the words into her mind, but Aethereal's Oil-filled veins seemed to freeze over with fear all the same. I'm part of that House, aren't I? True, she wasn't part of the Chaos Forge in Draco, but she belonged to Chaos all the same. Her magic was the Black Spire's. She was tied to it irreversibly, drawn back to it several times a cycle to stabilize with its power lest her own magic consume her. Her corruption was obvious just from looking at her: the Oil dripping from her faceless neck, the menacing whispers following her every step, the sheening dark blood she bled instead of a normal Gembound's scarlet.

If Mother wanted to purge Chaos from this place, what would happen to her? The question hung in her mind, half-pleading, filled with uncertainty.

Every dark instinct screamed at her to strike first--attack quickly, and now, to destroy this threat before it could destroy her, but she held them back, clinging to some thread of hope that this could still end without incident. Nothing had happened yet, had it? She was too afraid to break this limbo, shattering this uncertain peace with her own violence, when she still felt so lost. This must be the war between Order and Chaos Vargas had warned her of, yet Aethereal was not one of the great powers who chose to war. She was only born into one side, caught within the rushing torrent of Chaos and unsure of what else to do but be carried by the current wherever it might go.