The Sacrifice of Zvoltz the Architect

Zyphora

A sharp crack echoes through reality, resounding from Avechna's Peak.

The divine voice of Avechna, the Avenger reverberates powerfully, "No! This cannot be!"

 

The image of the Seal of Justice flickers in the sky above the Basin of Life, slowly revolving as cracks spread across its surface in a spiderweb of inky darkness.

 

The divine voice of Avechna, the Avenger reverberates powerfully, "It is not yet time! An Ascendant has not been chosen!"

 

The fulminating form of the Elder God Zvoltz ascends into the skies around Hallifax, power crackling around His body.

 

It is now the 17th of Estar, 377 years after the Coming of Estarra.

 

Resinous plumes unfurl across the sky as Mysrai, Resin Child turns Her gaze to the First World.

 

Ribbons of brilliant colour flash across the sky, the prismatic display heralding the arrival of Isune, the Aesthete to mortal perception.

 

Arcs of icy white energy blaze across the firmament as Zvoltz, the Architect shouts, "I will put this aright, Avechna."

 

With a harmonious resonance, the rhapsody of Isune's voice rings out, "What is it You intend? Zvoltz, speak to Me!"

 

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing voice of Mysrai intones, "Brother, what are You..."

 

Kalas Ixion, The Devouring Blade intones, "So You're saying.. You'll do the Seal justice, Lord Zvoltz?"

 

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing voice of Mysrai intones, "Close your mouth, Ixion, before We close it for you!"

 

Veils flicker across the sky, heralding a cry of utmost relief. In the aftermath, the whispering skeins fade slowly from existence, leaving the sky stained scarlet and copper in their wake.

 

Arcs of icy white energy blaze across the firmament as Zvoltz, the Architect shouts, "I am one of the first Star Gods created by Dynara. I wield the power of Iklara and Moraevi. I will mend what has been broken."

 

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing voice of Mysrai intones, "Brother, the power of Iklara, it..."

 

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing voice of Mysrai intones, "NO!"

 

With a harmonious resonance, the rhapsody of Isune's voice rings out, "Some actions do not allow You to go back! Some things are final, Zvoltz! I beg of You...please."

 

Arcs of icy white energy blaze across the firmament as Zvoltz, the Architect shouts, "It must be done. There is no Ascendant to reform the Seals."

 

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing voice of Mysrai intones, "Listen to Me, Brother! You do not understand!"

 

With a harmonious resonance, the rhapsody of Isune's voice rings out, "Is there no other way? Tell Me there is another way. We have lost enough here."

 

The divine voice of Yomoigu, the Pyresmith reverberates powerfully, "Give Me time, Zvoltz. I can fix it!"

 

With a harmonious resonance, the rhapsody of Isune's voice rings out, "For once, I agree with Your sibling, is that not enough to persuade You?"

 

Inky darkness spreads across the spinning image of the seal, sending tiny fractures skittering across the surface.

 

You lean on Turnus seeking consolation.

 

Turnus strokes your head in consolation.

 

Arcs of icy white energy blaze across the firmament as Zvoltz, the Architect shouts, "Would but I had a moment more to spend with you, Isune. There is no time."

 

Tears fill your eyes and begin to slowly run down your face.

 

As divine energy streams from the form of Zvoltz, flashing down into the Peak, the cracks slow their advance across the image of the Seal.

 

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing voice of Mysrai intones, "Brother, listen to Her!"

 

Thunder roars through the skies, accompanying the pained cries of the Architect as the stream of power into the Seal of Justice grows brighter. Soon the cracks reverse their course and the surface of the Seal begins to mend.

 

Turnus whispers soothing words to you.

 

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing voice of Mysrai intones, "BROTHER!"

 

You whisper, "No."

 

You whisper, "Gods, someone stop Him!"

 

As Zvoltz stands resolutely in the sky, the conduit of power to the Seal of Justice grows every brighter, even as His divine form grows dim and translucent.

 

With a harmonious resonance, the rhapsody of Isune's voice rings out, "Oh, Zvoltz... No..."

 

As the last of the cracks fade from the Seal, the conduit of power disappears. The form of Zvoltz sags briefly in the air as He fades out of existance, leaving naught but a final boom of thunder which rolls across the sky and out of hearing. In its wake, a whispered word hangs just beyond the edge of recognition.

 

Many-Coloured Warrior, Turnus Mzithrei gives you a tight hug as he sighs softly, "Is there. Something we can do?"

 

The divine voice of Avechna, the Avenger reverberates powerfully, "The Seal has been restored, but this is only a temporary respite. Mortals choose your champion, for soon the Final Ascension will be upon us. Prepare for that day."

 

High Scion Zyphora Windwhisper leans against Turnus, sobbing helplessly, clutching at his shoulders tightly in her grief.

 

Talan tells you, "Is She alright?"

 

Zyphora wipes her tears away, her expression grim and resolute. "Turnus, come with me," she says, her voice wavering only slightly.

 

You tell Talan Ysav'rai, "I am going to see."

 

Many-Coloured Warrior, Turnus Mzithrei strokes his hands soothingly through your headfeathers, "I'm sorry love. But He might be okay. And yes of course, lead on."

 

The Fulcrux of Isune. (Transcendental Fulcrux)

Shifting and shimmering in undulating waves, heatless sparks rise in a rippling fountain of light. The graceful, translucent form of a bird of paradise dances in the air, the insubstantial image shifting through a constant stream of vivid colours. A smooth scroll crafted from silk lies on the ground here.

There are no obvious exits.

 

The Resin Child hangs immobile above the City of Gaudiguch for a long moment as the plume of smoke and fire burns brilliant shadows against the faces of the pyramids. Finally, She vanishes, reality flickering apart around Her.

 

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing voice of Mysrai intones, "Unacceptable."

 

Her figure shining like a brilliant star against the sky, Isune the Aesthete soars high overhead, Her hands parting the colours of the firmament like water. At Her fingertips, the very hue of the sky darkens, subduing to mournful greys and blacks. Incandescent lightning flares in the nimbus about Her in answer, illuminating the earth in a storm without rain.

 

Amongst all this darkness, the Goddess remains radiant, gaze resolute as tears glisten upon Her cheeks. Cold, argent lightning flashes at Her beckoning hands, shattering in its decibels as the fire dances distantly across the cloud-strewn canvas of the sky. In their blaze, they move to surround Her as if in a furious dance, precise and powerful in each strike.

 

With a harmonious resonance, the rhapsody of Isune's voice rings out, "So it was that We of the Fourth mourned those who passed before Us in battle, when the Daath claimed 3,000 Elders in battle against the Soulless."

 

With a harmonious resonance, the rhapsody of Isune's voice rings out, "They will never be forgotten for Their Sacrifice, and nor shall You... Zvoltz of the Firsts, the wind beneath My wings. For You, I would paint the sky black."

As Isune turns away with a solemn sweep of Her hand, the clouds disperse in quiet procession, allowing sunlight to filter through the canopy of darkness once more. The staccato of thunder resounds, slowly tapering off as the Goddess takes wing to the Havens for solace. Eventually, there is naught but silence.

Zyphora

The Fulcrux of Isune. (Transcendental Fulcrux)

Shifting and shimmering in undulating waves, heatless sparks rise in a rippling fountain of light. The graceful, translucent form of a bird of paradise dances in the air, the insubstantial image shifting through a constant stream of vivid colours. A smooth scroll crafted from silk lies on the ground here.

There are no obvious exits.

Tears streaming down her face, you say, "Lady Isune..."

Aerys coalesces from within the sparkling light of the fountain.

Thyelleia tells you, "The poor Lady Aesthete..."

Tears streaming down her face, you say, "Aerys... I don't know what to do..."

Castellan Aerys Tarsuhl says, "I never do..."

Aerys slumps down, slowly throbbing a deep amber.

Thyelleia tells you, "I guess it is pointless to ask how you are faring now. I am sorry for forgetting it in my greeting. I am sure, as an avatar of Her, it affects you greatly. If there is anything I can do for you, please tell me."

Many-Coloured Warrior, Turnus Mzithrei wraps an arm comfortingly around you with a light hug.

Zyphora wraps her arms and wings around herself, trembling helplessly, tears still falling from her eyes, still gazing at the shrine in the centre of the fulrcrux.

Aerys creases her brow in a frown.

Aerys steps into the glittering fountain, her form dissolving into the sparks which make it up before disappearing completely.

Her voice breaking, you say, "My Lady. I'm so sorry."

Irillia tells you, "Ah, dearest Zyphora, why did this have to come to pass..."

Motes of light around the caldera pulse brightly as a soft voice echoes, "I have no weakness now but Hallifax. The Architect sacrificed, just as I have."

You tell Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance, "I don't know, Irillia, I don't know... I feel so... Everything feels wrong."

Motes of light around the caldera pulse brightly as a soft voice echoes, "The times ahead will not be easy. But we must be strong, Zyphora, for He would wish for us to be."

New tears streaming down her cheeks, you say, "My Lady, He was not a weakness. He was... He was a pillar of strength. And now He is gone. I'm so sorry. I'll try to be strong."

Pinpricks of soft, hushed light quietly coalesce into the form of Isune, the Aesthete.

Isune brushes a hand against your cheek, a sudden warmth suffusing you as the radiance of the aurora heightens your senses.

Her gaze fixed upon Her Avatar, Isune, the Aesthete says to you, "We are all Hallifax has now."

Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand and smudging the kohl around her eyes, you say, "I will be strong for You and for Him and for Hallifax. I will do anything for You, my Lady. Just... let me know. I will help You be strong."

Irillia tells you, "I know... I feel as if I am in too much shock to even move or act..."

Isune smiles softly.

Many-Coloured Warrior, Turnus Mzithrei bows his head respectfully as he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say or do before speaking up, "I am sure His strength will be carried on by those that remember what He did for us."

High Scion Zyphora Windwhisper closes her eyes tightly, touching her cheek where Isune's touch fell as though taking strength from it.

Isune, the Aesthete allows Herself a brief nod in answer, as if unaware that Her cheeks still remain wet with tears.

Isune, the Aesthete says, "I shall be strong as He was, then. And so shall you, through Me, My Avatar."

Isune, the Aesthete says, "Hallifax demands this of Us. And so I shall give this devotion to her."

High Scion Zyphora Windwhisper nods with grim resolution, looking up at Isune with trust, love, and sorrow intermingled.

Isune leans close to you and gently lays a kiss upon your forehead.

Isune, the Aesthete says to Turnus, "Look to her. It is through bonds like your own that we find this strength."

Isune's form shatters into a flock of mourning doves, their tiny forms tracing forlorn circles in the air before soaring away.

You whisper, "Thank you, My Lady."

Irillia coalesces from within the sparkling light of the fountain.

Irillia curtseys gracefully.

High Scion Zyphora Windwhisper turns to Turnus, still reflexively wiping away tears as they fall.

High Scion Zyphora Windwhisper turns to Irillia suddenly, biting her lip.

High Scion Zyphora Windwhisper rushes over to embrace Irillia tightly, her body trembling violently.

Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance hesitates for a moment, then wraps her wings tightly around you with a deep, mournful sigh.

Sorrowfully, Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance says, "Oh, dear Zyphora. I wish it could have ended any other way."

High Scion Zyphora Windwhisper cries silently for several long moments into Irillia's shoulder, the susurrus of her quivering feathers gradually quieting. As she stills, she takes a deep breath and gives a long, shuddering sigh. "Irillia. Our Lady said... We're all Hallifax has left. We must do our best to be strong."

Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance gently strokes your head feathers, a tear sliding slowly down her own cheek unnoticed. "You are right. She is right. We are all that Hallifax has left and...perhaps all that She has left too."

Many-Coloured Warrior, Turnus Mzithrei stands aside, letting the two friends embrace as he remains quiet for a moment. Then resting his hand reassuringly on your shoulder saying simply, "You'll find the strength."

You whisper, "We have to keep Her awake."

Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance whispers, "But...but how? We are not Him."

Desperately, you say, "Anything. We have to try anything and everything. We must keep Her remembering how to be happy."

Showing that she understands, Irillia nods her head slowly.

Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance says, "You are right, of course."

Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance says, "Only...perhaps it will be easier when the first grief has passed and the shock has worn away. For all of us."

Turnus nods his head at Irillia, showing his acceptance.

Speaking in a low growl, Many-Coloured Warrior, Turnus Mzithrei says, "There is a time for grief before you can let yourself be happy again. It is not easy but..."

Hesitantly, Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance says, "For now, I only wanted to know whether She is all right. I...I hope I did not intrude on Her, or on you."

High Scion Zyphora Windwhisper slowly extricates herself from the tangle of Irillia's and her wings and arms, sighing. "Yes, of course," she says, her voice soft. "We must... let Her grieve. We must help Her through this. And no, She had just left." Her tear-misted gaze shifts slowly to the shrine.

Archmage Irillia Shevat, the Aesthete's Renaissance attempts a wan smile as she gazes upward through the opening of the caldera and murmurs, "And we must not lose hope. It has been known for Elder Gods to return when seeking to empower Seals. Perhaps...there is still a way we could... Oh, I don't know."

Many-Coloured Warrior, Turnus Mzithrei nods agreement at Irillia, "The ways of the Elders are sometimes mysterious. Should never give up hope that He will one day be found again. It may not be anytime soon, but some part of Him may linger."

Nodding gravely, you say, "Just as our Lady has returned, time and again, we must keep hope that Lord Zvoltz will return to oversee His Design."

Vivet

All my props for cleaning this up and posting this. Missing the Grand Exit itself is pretty much my only regret.

Haezon

Bravo. Great roleplaying all around, I take my hat off to you Hallifaxians et al. Was beautiful to read.

Kalvin

Well done Zyphora, Loved reading that that must have taken alot of work to get that edited down. and I hope lady isune, will be ok. and omm I had know idea you her avitor zyphora by the way man this is what happens when I don't log on for weeks I really need to watch these forums more offton. Anyways great job lady isune, and Zyphora.

Thanks

Kevin/Kalvin