[M] The Throne of Gods: Memories of Divinity - IC

[Iwazuma]

If one had asked Moriteva what he would be doing this evening a few weeks ago, 'infiltrating Tartarus itself' was not going to be among his top seventy responses. In fact, he would have guessed that it likely ranked among the bottom three. However, as he mused to himself from the stands of the gladiatorial arena, he found that even the least possible of outcomes seemed to happen these days. When he had been approached by Luthious to perform a smash-and-grab, Moriteva's first response was to question why him, of all people. He was peaceful and studious, and not particularly the most well-versed in stealth. However, the more he was informed of the situation, the more he understood his role to play. He'd accepted the job on a simple condition: The Noble of Order would owe the Warden of Life a favor to be exchanged in the future. On those terms, he'd set out for Hades with a surprising, yet wholly welcome companion; Mahisu was to be his partner in crime, a pairing he welcomed, having not seen the god he'd guided down the path of recognition and insight for nigh-on four or five millennia. Not that Mahisu was ever too much for words, but the pair had enough chemistry that he felt confident in their ploy.

Mahisu was the expert in stealth and scouting, so Moriteva left much of the dirty work to him, only pointing out options and possibilities for their infiltration on the way in. Once Mahisu had discovered the trio of focal points for the barrier surrounding the gladiatorial arena, it was the Warden who helped devise a plan: Make a distraction, weaken the barrier with a precision strike to one of the runestones, and reveal themselves before grabbing their targets and leaving. Seemed simple enough, though Moriteva knew that was merely an illusory wish. Something was going to make things messy, and the mighty draconic monster seemed to be both a blessing and a hindrance at the same time. All he could do was watch for now...and prepare for his turn.

As the spectacle began to rage, Moriteva, disguised as naught but a hempen-cloaked demonic being, began to skirt between enthralled creatures and gods alike, acting as though he were searching for an open seat with a good view of the carnage. None could see through the shadows cast by his large, overhanging hood, but his hands remained low, placed gently on the backs and arms of his unknowing targets. Every time he'd lay a finger on a being, he would allow himself to siphon a bit of their life energy-nothing to cause serious notice, just a bit that the adrenaline of the moment would surely cover. He stored that energy within, preparing himself for the right moment to strike. Just shuffling a few feet to his left every minute or two, finding another unwitting donor to his pool of strength.

Moriteva witnessed the hellwyrm's vicious molten breath strike the barrier, causing spiderwebs of cracks within its energy shield to spread from the point of impact. A surprise to be sure, but one that made his job all the easier. The cloaked figure picked up his pace, headed in the direction of the weak point while many an onlooker backed away instead. A few more shoulders touched, a few more bits of reserve energy...yet still was not the proper time. He needed the right moment to strike...and he sensed it before he witnessed it. Amidst the various signals of life force around him, Moriteva suddenly picked up a particularly large one being snuffed out in a single moment, the owner's energies dissipating in mere seconds from a fatal strike. The man-if he could be called that-to his left slumped over before collapsing to the ground, his blood spattering those around him before pooling and sliding down the arena steps. The Consumed closest to the fallen deity congregated and rushed for the body, eager to sup on the flesh of the fallen and ease their eternal suffering, while the rest who were less fortunate as to be further away from the assassination dispersed in a panic...and then the moment came.

A sudden surge of energy washed over the arena as the runestone nearby exploded from the impact of a powerful blade, strong enough to make the Warden brace from the wave of magic that coursed around him. That was his signal; as Mahisu's camouflage was destroyed by the sudden rush of energy, the barrier itself, now devoid of one of its focal points, had dimmed on one side-the cracked side. "Perfect." While he wasn't the biggest fan of his choice of distraction, Moriteva supposed it did the job. He could have words with the God of the Hunt later. Right now, he had an entrance to make. Moriteva called upon the reserves of energy he'd spent the last several minutes gathering, channeling it through his body to augment his own power. He rushed to the dimming, cracked side of the barrier, pulled back his left arm, and threw a devastating forward punch right at the central point of five spiderwebbing cracks, aiming to smash a hole clean through the recently impenetrable wall of magic.

[Azazeal849]

Visana drew her wards closer, the air around her vibrating with starlight. The dragon reared, a magma glow spilling between the scales of its neck, rushing upward towards its maw. Visana glanced back through the swirling barrier, and she was just in time to see Minos starting to rise from his seat, the insect mandibles at the centre of his chest beginning to hinge wide in alarm. As a sound like a rushing tempest engulfed the arena, she threw herself off the wall.

The world turned to flame in the time it took to blink. Visana fell clear in that same eyeblink, but even that brief kiss of hellfire was enough to break her wards with a crack of imploding air. She almost gasped in shock - and if she had, the flames would surely have burned her lungs to ash. She fell, trailing ribbons of smoke. As the ground rushed up to meet her she let her legs fold and rolled forward across her shoulder, scrunching against the rough basalt. She rolled up onto one knee and raised her head to see whips of flame lashing Minos’ barrier, leaving deep scars that bled scarlet light. The tortured wards screeched, louder than the cacophony of the demons now fighting to get out of the way.

Minos’ voice boomed louder still; a shrieking, growling curse. Pain flared across the back of Visana’s shoulder blade - so sudden and sharp that for a moment she feared that a demon in the crowd had somehow pierced the barrier and shot her with a deathbolt. She fell forward onto a splayed hand, and saw golden light spiraling down her arm, leaping from rune to rune as the prayer-wards flared against some corrosive, hostile magic. That was when she knew that she had been cursed.

Minos.

Knowing was not the same as acting though, as the sin-reaper’s hellwyrm slammed down on its foreclaws and turned to follow her. Blood streaked down from the black hole where its left eye had been, the droplets smoking like acid as they pattered onto the arena floor. Flames began to dance around its jaws with a sharp hiss.

Visana tried to move but her muscles were still locked up from the pain, refusing to do more than tremble. There was only time to stare wide-eyed at death’s approach as the hellfire boiled up once more, igniting and spreading…

…and slowing. White dust scattered through the fire-plume, catching it inside a glowing net. Turning toward the source, Visana saw Marette, the Timekeeper, standing with hands flung out. She spoke no word, but her eyes urged Move!

Visana forced herself to stand, stumbled to one knee, wrenched herself to her feet once more, and ran. Behind her the bonds of extended time snapped, and flames engulfed the corner of the arena where she had been standing. Superheated stone cracked and sloughed from the arena walls, splashing into the molten glass that the dragonfire had made of the ground.

“Thank you…” Visana coughed as she reached Marette and spun to look for the others.

Ridstus was strafing across the platform, mechanical joints whirring, both arms thrust forward with a sleek Mechanite pistol jutting from each fist. He was laughing like a maniac, his eyes bright with the white fire stutter-flashing from the gun muzzles. Atrophos and Sidhe were close to hand, but she had lost sight of Silvannus and Lunae in the smoke. The heat of the flames clawed at her face and made the air shimmer, bending everything into hellish, unnatural shapes. Choking smoke coiled up into the sky, and at the centre of it all the dragon loomed, spreading wings of frozen flame.

Where is Aegis?

The whole arena was afire now. The flames splashed long-limbed shadows across the cliff walls, leaping and clawing as if they too were fighting to escape. Above, Minos’ barrier still bore the shimmering red crack, like a gash cut through flesh.

Visana stumbled towards the other gods, pointing up towards the sputtering barrier. “Look!” she shouted, “One more hit like that and we’re out of here!”

The demons knew it, too. Behind the barrier the crowd was surging like a riptide, and in at least two places the hellspawn seemed to be fighting each other. One of the runic towers clawing at the sky suddenly blew apart, in a rush of green fire. A golden demon clad in leather and grass fought his way down to the barrier, his arm running with light as he drove a fist into the failing ward.

Visana’s mouth fell open - that was no demon.

She began to run, leaping over pools of burning glass, pushing aside the mundane flames left in the dragonfire’s wake with runic sweeps of her hands. The prayers coiling up her arms glowed blue against the hell-light as she ran, carving a warded path for the others to follow - towards the wall, towards the weakening barrier, and towards the golden stranger.

[Yamimoon]

The moment Lunae had stepped foot into the arena he welcomed death. To be freed from his prison was his only wish. That and his children not falling into that bitches grasp. So, for him it was a win win. However, that changed and now he looked to each of the deities that had been brought here to see the weapons they possessed. He knew that he was not the only craftsman in the heavens, but by fare he was the best. Yet just because he was the best didn’t mean he would make weapons for just anyone, and that is what made his weapon special amongst the gods.

However, with each passing moment the fight grew in intensity, and he was unable to see the weapon most of the deities were carrying. He made out the weapon that was made of rust that had helped with the taking of the dragon's eye. Yet he looked away before the other god took his eye. So he didn’t see that weapon. Then his attention was turned to another as they climbed the walls. Yet he doubted that his person had one of his weapons. The voice coming from her was too foreign.

There was another he looked at and seeing the orbs she produced entangled the Dragon and held him. The staff she carried was not something he made either. Then he heard the voice above his head and looked up. He couldn't see the face of the god holding the ornate fan, however, the fan in and of itself was definitely something he created. The elegance of the one holding the fan seemed familiar. It was like he had made that weapon especially for the one holding it. However, he didn’t remember the weapon nor the man holding it. However, the weapon was definitely one of his.

Then suddenly the man disappeared, and Lunae’s attention was returned to what was happening. However, it happened a bit too late as the dragon released a breath of fire and magma in his general direction. Time seemed to slow down as Lunae watched the attack come towards him. This was the thing he wanted. He wanted to die, as he closed his eyes to allow the attack to hit its mark. However, something snapped in his mind as his eyes quickly opened, and he reached into a portal that appeared next to him.

He pulled out a small golden shield that was inlaid with what looked like obsidian lace through its design. There was a silver snake coiled around a rainbow orb at the center of the shield. There were runes etched into the outside edges of the typical design. Once the shield was in front of him a crystal light admitted from the shield just as the breath reached him. The force of the attack forced him to try and brace himself. However, his right leg was not having it, and buckled under the pressure.

This sent him flying backwards towards the crimson wall that had been protecting the demons that had come to watch them get butchered. However, so far none of them had perished at the hands of the dragon, and worse yet the shield that was protecting them had cracked. Lunae was surrounded by magma that was cooling as it turned the arena into glass. His shield protected him from the direct attack. Though slamming into the crimson wall caused the air to be knocked out of his lungs, as well as a couple of cracked ribs.

As he coughed to try and catch his breath he banished the shield, as he looked at the giant lizard that was trying to take all of their lives. Yet what puzzled him most was why he decided to protect himself from the attack? What possessed him to do something so stupid? It wasn’t like anyone would miss him. He had lived by himself as far back as he could remember, and he never got attached to people. Yet something told him that he couldn’t die. That there was something he needed to do. Was this truly the case, or was it because he didn't want to die just yet? He didn’t know the answer, but what he did know was right now he was useless in this fight with his leg the way it was.

Well it didn’t matter. If he survived this whole mess he wasn’t going to need to fight. He could just return home, and try and get his life back together. Maybe even Animus would be able to come by…. Lunae stopped his train of thought at the name Animus. Who was this person, and how did he know them?

A searing pain filled his senses as a brand was appearing on his right shoulder. This pain is what brought him out of his thoughts. Now was not the time to get lost in thoughts. He would have plenty of time once he was free of this place. Though, leaving the barrier was one thing. Escaping the whole of Tartarus was another. Though thinking that far ahead was not a luxury. The first thing would be escaping the Arena. Then the thoughts of escaping hell would come next.

[Scottie]

The quick unassuming breath in was exactly what Atrophos required. The shadow of a smile crossed his lips as he could sense the decay adhere to the roof of the dragon’s mouth. Sinking through the flesh and disappearing before a rancid hot tongue could wipe away the dirt. Floating through the veins, inch by inch until it reached its final destination. The intricate strings holding the creatures eye in place. The muscles and nerves were like a tapestry of wonder that were fit to be destroyed.

A shaky breath of his own left his lips as the dust settled and set to work. His gaze trickled away from the creature whose eye was starting to cloud. Sight taken as the dim grey gathered in the corner of his vision before taking his left eye. His attention was gifted to the Goddess of Protection who clung to the wall by her fingertips. He hummed a small note of agreement as she tried to taunt the dragon into aiming at her. Always one to sacrifice herself.

The roar of a wounded animal stole Atrophos’s gaze back, just in time to witness the God of Kings and Rulership flying through the arena. His body crumbled to the ground as blood dribbled from Scorchfang’s eye socket. Dust picked up around the fallen god and Atrophos’s brow crinkled. A handful of specks hovered in the air before Aegis and waited for instruction. The instruction stayed on the tip of his tongue as the mighty dragon reared back and flame covered the group.

Barely enough time to cover his face with the drooped sleeves of his cloak, Atrophos felt pain flicker through his skin. The skin of his left arm started to sag and almost drip from his bones. A hiss of annoyance and pain left through the gaps in his teeth until the dragon halted his attack and focused on new prey. Cracked palms hit against the small flames that tried to rest on his cloak. Atrophos felt something swell in his chest with the horrendous crack that struck through the ethereal wall.

His fingers twitched again as he found himself caught between two choices. Aid the fallen god or try to further their attempt at escape. His internal deliberation was rudely interrupted by a booming slick voice. ‘A very painful death’. Focusing on the vague location of the voice, Atrophos strained to see a form…to no avail. Pain shot through his right shoulder, the skin that was cracked and weeping from the fire attempt screeched for relief. Atrophos dragged the neck of his cloak down to stare at the brand. A brand. A brand of ownership. Of hatred. Of chattel. His choice was made.

Dragging the cloak back, he clenched his left hand into a fist. Coaxing…tempting the decay within the dragon’s left eye to sink. Float through those veins again, past the taut and strong muscles of the creature's forearms, chest and neck. The left arm. Swim past the creature's elbow. Aim for the muscles that bind and caress the carpal bones of the creature's wrist. Bury. Dig. Feed. Fester. Devour.

The specks of dust that fluttered before Aegis’s crumpled body and the back of Silvannus who came to the fallen god’s aid started to shift. His fingers grew loose as he reached out towards the pair and the dust that Aegis had tempted from the stone when his form collided with the edge of the arena. The dust danced happily towards Atrophos, barely a meter from the pair before Atrophos twisted his wrist and the dust sped towards the god.

Forming in mid-flight into a thin arrow that soared past the God of Decay and aimed directly for Visanna. “One more hit like that and we’re out of here!” The request for aid was answered by the arrow that squealed past her like it was racing her. The dust arrow danced around the runes that she swept out side by side to ward away the remaining flames.

Even from this distance, Atrophos could see the creature hitting the wall of magic. An enemy desperate to join the fight or friend…rescuer perhaps. Either way, outside was better than in here. More places to hide. More bodies decaying from the inside out. Hope resided outside the barrier. Atrophos aimed the dust arrow at the point that the god was hitting. If the arrow made its mark, the dust would dissipate and cover the barrier. Coating the red in a thin layer of dirt and attempting to weaken the barrier from this side.

Every speck of dust within the arena vibrated for a brief moment. As if begging to join the fight.

[RedKayne]

Background Music - Last Stand

The God of Kings found himself on his knees, panting heavily as golden blood trickled from his lips. Despite the searing pain in his right shoulder, Aegis used the shaft end of his lance to push himself up, standing with a determined, square-shouldered posture. He winced as the pain washed over him, but he steeled himself, trying his best to remain still as Silvannus tended to his wounds. The ethereal ribbons wrapped around his injuries, their gentle touch gradually easing the pain and mending the wounds. The dull ache replaced the intense pain, and Aegis felt some relief.

"Certainly, my friends, I appreciate both your feedback," chuckled the God of Rulership, readjusting his grip on the Scepter of Sovereignty, feeling the lance's energy pulsate within his hands. "However, patience has never been my forte, unlike our esteemed Goddess of Time," he nodded in acknowledgment towards Marette, before his sharp brown eyes caught a movement in a particular section of the arena, and his smile widened in recognition. Finally, he's sending some help.

"But you see, a true king must be swift and decisive, especially when protecting his people," he asserted confidently, his resolve unwavering. "A monarch's worth lies in the hearts of his people, after all." Without further ado, he dashed forward, joining Ridstus in a coordinated attack against the Hell Wyrm. As he circled the dragon, rays of light shot from the lance, colliding with the creature, and adding to the relentless assault. The arena resounded with the clash of divine powers, all for the sake of survival and victory.

Both the rays of light and enhanced bullets pierced into the dragon's scales and Scorchfang's fury resonated through a deafening roar, his fiery presence growing ever more palpable. Torrents of flames danced around the dragon, scorching the very air and leaving the brimstone ground scarred in their wake. The searing inferno scattered across the arena, striking anything unfortunate enough to be in its path. Aegis avoided one such torrent but nearly crumpled to the ground, leaping away a good distance. He clutched his right arm, which shrieked with pain from the brand of Minos - as if incredibly sensitive to the hot air itself. As the colossal beast flapped his crimson wings with force, violent gusts of wind surged forth, pushing back the nearby Ridstus and Lunae, and reminding them of the perilous nature of their foe.

The dragon's left arm suddenly buckled through and crumbled as if losing its footing. With the quick reaction and agility of a viper, its maw snapped shut around its own limb, tearing it off with a violent motion. Lava poured and gushed from the wound, but the dragon's head quickly turned, its evil red eyes fixated on Atrophos, its magical senses knowing no bounds. With a sudden lurch, the gigantic limb hurtled directly toward the deity, threatening to crush him under its weight.

Elsewhere, a blinding flash of crimson-red light erupted as Atrophos's dust and Moriteva's fist collided at the ethereal barrier. The clash reverberated through the realm of Hades, sending shockwaves rippling across the hellish plane. In the wake of the collision, a gaping hole appeared in the barrier, large enough for a man to leap through. Shards of ethereal slowly crumbled from the opening, widening the gap further, and a low, haunting hum filled the air as the barrier's integrity wavered under the immense force unleashed by the divine clash.

As the barrier shattered before his eyes, Aegis felt a surge of both pain and determination in his right arm. Despite the searing agony, he managed to form a confident smile. "Comrades!" His voice boomed, turning to face every fellow gladiator in the arena. "This is the final push! The barrier will collapse soon, and freedom is within our grasp. Release your powers, give it your all!" His words reverberated through the air, igniting a feeling of newfound vigor within each deity present. It felt as if their very beings were enhanced, their combat prowess heightened by Aegis's Divine Authority. With resolute determination, the God of Rulership declared their last stand against Scorchfang and Minos, their united strength ready to face whatever came their way.

Minos, the arachnid deity, stood on his floating platform high above the arena, his body trembling with fear. His faceless head turned upwards, its eyeless gaze fixating on the ominous dark tower that loomed over the Pit of Tartarus. The Duchess, a figure of formidable power and enigmatic presence, always watched the gladiator battles from her throne atop that eerie spire. Minos knew that she witnessed the unfolding chaos in the arena, and he sensed her disapproval. This will not do.

The platform descended rapidly as the corrupted deity charged toward the two intruders, Mahisu and Moriteva, his torso-maw opening with a bone-chilling hiss. "You dare think you've accomplished anything?" Minos's voice shrieked and gurgled with anger. "Even if you manage to break this barrier, escaping this pit is futile. There's no way out of Hades, no escape from the Duchess's grasp!" His legion-like voice echoed with fury as he raised both arms, pointing them menacingly at the intruders.

"You have committed heinous crimes against the Duchess of Pain and disrupted her entertainment," Minos proclaimed, his malevolence oozing from his voice as he hovered above the stands. "I sentence both of you to a quick and painful death." From his maw, an obsidian orb of dark energy materialized and shot forth, landing between the two gods. The sphere exploded with a malevolent burst of necrotic energy, its vile tendrils snaking outwards, grabbing one Consumed and wrapped around, its body quickly fell apart into black ashes as these tendrils sought to consume all.

[Dire Hoef]

Riddy was pissed.

First, he had his entire livelihood stripped from him. Second, he was stranded and imprisoned by disgusting rats who didn't know what sanitation was. Thirdly, he now has duke it out with a overgrown lizard who had no clear sense of self-control and fashion. Everything about this itemized list of grievances were enough to send Riddy over the edge. He had never been this mad, but he was very willing to make an exception here.

So when the searing wave of hot air and fire washed across his person, he tanked it. Not even thinking of why, he conjured up a towershield out of stainless steel which absorbed most of the cascade. However due to Minos' abominable curse, he wasn't wholly spared. The hot air and fire caused his HUD to fluctuate violently and the actuators in his body to crack. Even if his pain receptors were turned off, his biomechnical body was having a tough time adjusting to the amount of punishment it was being dealt.

This was only further compounded when he was thrown some ways away as the creature flapped its massive wings. Thankfully, Riddy's cat-like gyroscope was able to readjust him as he landed on his feet; if not crouched due to his cracked actuators. In retaliation, he tossed his handguns to the side, and conjured up a much bigger gun. This time, it was a rotary gatling gun where the belt is being fed by a bottomless ammo box strapped to Riddy's tailbone.

Hearing the Big Guy's speech, Riddy smirked. This moment screamed unrelenting progress, and he was all about that. So taking into account the surge in confidence and determination, Riddy primed the weapon and pulled the trigger to start the rotation. "SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!!" Within seconds, the barrel came to life with a thunderous "BRRTTT." Such a sound only accompanied by Riddy's cackling. A punishment most deserving for an overgrown fire lizard.

[Yamimoon]

Each god and goddess were doing their best to defeat the dragon and escape the hell that was Tartarus. Yet Lunae had yet to truly lift a finger. The injury to his leg stopped him from being able to maneuver. Yet what really stopped him was that he was fighting with himself. He was fighting with his want to end his suffering, and the unknown reason he for some reason wanted to live. There was also the person that was associated with the strange name that came to mind. Everything was forcing him to the side of wanting to live, and it was the name that cemented his resolve. He would fight.

Then the voice of one of the gods resonated through the arena, and Lunae looked to the god. The was a god that emanated self-confidence, and the will to lead. He sparked a hope in even his chest that they might actually be able to win this fight. Looking at the weapon he held in his hand Lunae smiled. So, that is who this god is. Lunae remembered masking the Lance that the god held. It was one of his more stubborn children and it never spoke to him after he created it. Which was fine. He never forced a weapon to talk to him, or even speak.

Now he had two children on the field, and he would need to do what a father did. Protect his children. That was when the dragon tore off his leg, and its blood flowed from the injury. Throwing the appendage at one of the other gods. With all of the blood that was now on the ground it gave Lunae an idea on a weapon he could use, and test at the same time.

Reaching his hand forward a small portal appeared, and a long crimson blade was pulled from the portal. This blade was made from blood stones, and cursed steel. He had never had a chance to use this blade to test it. Since the special ability was to gather and use blood that had been spilled as a weapon. It also had a curse on the blade. A curse that would cause the injuries the swordsman had sustained to worsen and feed the blade. It wasn't the most practical sword, but it would work in this situation. To use this ability, he would have to remain standing in one spot.

With his arm stretched out he laid the blade horizontal to his body. He then took his free hand and placed the palm against the blade at the hilt. He then ran his hand down the blade. This caused the crimson blade to glow. With its power activated all of the blood, golden and orange began to gather around Lunae’s body. Encircling him as a large quantity was gathering. The lava-like blood increased the temperature around him and caused the mark to glow and send pain through his body. He had to ignore it. The pain was amplified by the curse of the sword, and if he let his concentration break it wouldn't be good.

The blood that had been gathered turned into tiny, sharpened blades that would be able to cut through most things. Lune didn’t know how sharp they would be, but they should at least be able to cause some damage to his targets. Once the preparations were complete Lunae raised the sword to the sky then pointed it at the dragon, then slashed the sword to the barrier. Pushing the power of the sword to its max, he had to close his eyes to not lose to the pain. Lunae wanted to see what kind of damage it might deal but it would have to wait till he was able to open his eyes.

The sharpened blood rushed from where it was encircling Lunae and quickly tried to encircle the dragon. The blades would only dance around its body for a short time before slamming into the barrier. With his concentration completely on his sword he was completely vulnerable to attack. Though, there was only one enemy in the arena, so he didn’t need to worry. If the blades were strong enough, they would at least cut through the creature's scales. There was a possibility he might be able to cut through the barrier as well.

[Hannelorian]

Hades certainly lived up to it's name and reputation. In a manner of moments the field of battle was flooded with the fires of the hellwyrm, the stench of rot was now clouded with the foul stench of smoke and seemingly brimstone. It was a bleak sight for anyone to behold. But the Gods fought back against their captor and his abominations. The group, with outside help, a rescue party perhaps, had managed to strike at the barrier, and send Minos into a fury that he likely hadn't felt in centuries. How troublesome they had become, and a cruel reminder that one's prey might one turn into the most feared predator. "Tsk tsk." Marette uttered, as the flames came surging forth, Visanna not far from her now had uttered a word of thanks. "My pleasure." Marette offered with a wink, attention back toward the beast and the flames.

Aegis was not long back on his feet before he too let out a retort of his own. Now that was like a God of Order, a God of true authority, and even Marette would have to tip her hat at that. And indeed he was correct, not everyone could afford to play the long game as the Goddess of time had done. But even here, she had not escaped without injury, having shed her normal cloak of pacifism and observation. The fires had spread and burned so hot, that even the slightest contact with the skin of her arms had burned. But pain was nothing, not here. Not now.

After all of that, and potential rescue in sight, Aegis had summoned forth his power, and imparted an enhanced divinity to the others present. It was like a surge of beloved and familiar warmth that flooded Marette's body, a welcome relief, something that heightened her own senses, and gave her the strength and determination to fight on. So, this is what she had seen across the histories and the stories, the tales of this God, now she felt it herself. The barrier would be her target. Marette narrowed her eyes, looked skyward, where the boundary was weakest.

Within Time is energy, and within energy was explosive potential. One did not need to stop an entire scene, one did not need to reverse the course of time as a whole to make an impact. Small, concentrated energies were just enough to help, or to hurt. One only need to pull the strings in opposite directions to cause a phenomenal conflict. What did happen when the unstoppable force met the immovable object? Holding tightly onto the Rod of Confluence, Marette smiled, something of pure joy as she settled on a course of action. Slamming the rod into the ground, a slow tremor would roll across the floor of the arena, the reverberations of time itself being manipulated and altered.

Out of the weapon poured orbs of energy, each one a slightly different hue, the kind that was alluring, transfixing, almost beautiful until one came into contact with it. There were five in total, each one as mesmerizing as the last, and with a gentle point of the rod toward the barrier's weak point the orbs would fly, racing one another for dominance, only until at the very last moment they were drawn together. Each orb represented an opposing force, the isolated energy to move time forward, and backward, to speed things up, to slow things down, to stop time. And when they all came together in that moment of perfect confluence, they would tear each other apart, and the confused and chaotic energy would explode outward in a massive and violent attack, that ultimately wouldn't change time at all. Their violent energies cancelled each other out in the most spectacular fashion, pure time energy baffled and ripping through the barrier in an attempt to shatter it once and for in, in combination with the assault from the other deities, those she now viewed as comrades, regardless of faction.

[Scottie]

The whisper of a smile stained his lips as the arrow sunk into the barrier. The others were attacking the barrier now, one deity from the outside and the others from inside the arena. His attention was dragged to the grumbling voice of Aegis and witnessed the god stand to attack again. The tide was turning. They might actually win and escape. Hope was bubbling once again. A churning in his stomach informed him that the infection had settled into the dragon’s wrist and the thump that vibrated through his feet told him that the dragon had partly crumbled.

The smile disappeared when the creature dug its teeth into the limb, tearing it free with ease. The God of Decay managed to shuffle a single step backwards before the dragon latched his rageful gaze on the old god. Hatred pierced through his body then the torn limb soared through the air towards him. He wouldn’t be able to outrun it nor would he be strong enough to try to slice through it. In a moment of panic, the god ground the bottom of the staff into the stone floor of the arena.

Every single speck of dust lifted in unison before speeding towards Atrophos. Another shuffled step backwards as blood continued to dribble from the flying limb, splattering over every surface as it neared the frail god. His fingers tightened around the staff and the dust formed a solid grey dome around the god. The dust hovered barely a metre from Atrophos’s nose. The first layer of defence. The arm passed through the curtain of dust easily. The fingernails on his right hand started to pierce through his palm as he forced all his power to aid him.

The scales were first to dissipate. Then the flesh, muscle and blood vessels. The bone was tricky. It had barely entered the layer of spongy bone when the weight collided with Atrophos. The air was knocked from his lungs as he flew backwards, hitting the arena wall and crumbling to the stone floor. The dust continued to devour the bones. The near hollow colossus bones were shakingly pushed to one side.

Black ichor-like blood dribbled from his open mouth as he managed to push himself up onto all fours. His right shoulder hung lower than his left. The staff of rust lay a few feet from him and his palm was torn from the force of it being ripped from him. Lifting his head, his jaw sighed to the right. With gentle grunts, he managed to use his left hand to force the jaw back into place. He needed to rest. He needed aid.

“Release your powers, give it your all!"

Atrophos couldn’t give any more. Pain sunk into every joint within his body, particularly the dislocated right shoulder. He could not aid them at this moment. But..But. HIs gaze snapped to the graceful god to his left. The god who had been gifted the Goddess of Time’s power to protect Aegis. He had never truly met the deity of Arcana but he had heard stories. Many a winter had been spent with one of the god’s offspring, the tales that she had woven had been tinged with a mixture of spite and awe.

Focusing on Silvannus, Atrophos felt Marette’s tremor rattle the floor of the arena. Just forceful enough to clink one of the main chains that littered the arena. Iron chains. “Silvannus.” The name cracked in his throat and he paused to spit out a mouthful of almost purple blood. “The chains…Use them.” His left hand was lifted to point to the chains closest to the dragon. Already the orange rust was starting to flutter from the fallen chains towards the weeping wound of the dragon’s shoulder.

“You have my blessing.” A momentary churning of Silvannus’s stomach would inform them of what Atorphos had gifted. Decay. The power to crumple the chains and use the rust as a weapon.

[Azazeal849]

Background music - Skydweller

A spinning bolt made up of particles of black dust hurtled past Visana, and she had a brief moment to think Atrophos before it struck the crumbling force-wall above them, at precisely the same time as the stranger’s fist. The barrier shattered, spilling shards of frozen hell-light down into the arena and leaving a jagged hole whose edges continued to spit with corposant.

Just big enough for someone to fit through.

Visana looked back the way she had come, seeking the others. She could see the tunnel of empty air behind her, the flames leaping and then recoiling back as they met the wards she had woven along her path. All else was shrouded in smoke, though the smog was backlit by white flashes where someone was still shooting at the hellwyrm.

“Come on!” she shouted to the others, “The barrier’s broken, let’s go!”

Looking up she could see that it was easier said than done. The dragon’s fire had scorched and shattered the wall of the arena beneath the breach, leaving splits that offered purchase to climb up, but the rock itself was glowing dull red, and steam hissed from the cracks.

Through the broken-mirror view of the punctured barrier, she could see that the god up there had been forced to turn as Minos himself rose into the air. The sin-reaper was trailing corruption; tarry ropes of glistening black that lashed out to snare the god and the demons who were unlucky enough to be in the way.

They had to get up there.

Visana flexed her arm, the pattern of runes in her skin glowing as they finally began to drive back Minos’ curse. That was good. She would need all her focus. She ran to the wall, the spiral runes on her arms glowing in protest as the heat of burning stone rushed over her. Spreading her hands, she began to trace the focus points of another ward. The heat began to recede as a net of golden lines flickered their way up the wall.

Behind her there was the jackhammer rattle of a chain-gun firing, and the hellwyrm roared.

Visana looked back one more time, hoping that the glowing path she had left would be guidance enough for the others, and dug her hands into the cracks in the wall. The rock still glowed, but she felt no heat from it, nor from the steam hissing between her fingers. She worked her way up the wall, more quickly this time. But at the top, haloed by the fire bleeding from the puncture, appeared the eyeless faces of the Consumed. They screeched in delight and began to hurl themselves down the wall, head first, skittering like spiders. Using the very path that Visana herself had just made.

Visana stared up, eyes widening in horror. She couldn’t both climb and fight.

Behind her a voice rang out - a pure voice, stentorian and strong.

“Comrades! This is the final push! The barrier will collapse soon, and freedom is within our grasp. Release your powers, give it your all!”

The Eternal was still alive, and still fighting.

Visana glanced back over her shoulder as she clung to the rockface. For an instant the air caught the smoke and ripped it back like a curtain, and she could just make out Aegis in his crimson armour, working with Ridstus and Lunae to hold the hellwyrm at bay. Atrophos was rising from beneath the skeletal remains of the dragon’s left foreclaw, shouting something Visana couldn’t hear to Silvannus. Marette sent a barrage of compressed time into the force-wall above Visana’s head, rippling a shockwave across the barrier and dislodging several of the scuttling Consumed from the wall. They screeched as they fell past Visana.

The protector goddess turned upward once more, her face smoke-blackened and cut by rivulets of sweat and steam. Her pupils shrank to hard black points, reflecting back the light that swirled and coruscated round the edges of the broken barrier.

She let go of the wall with one hand and seized the first Consumed by the throat, ripping it from its hold on the rock and sending it tumbling past her. Light boiled in her free hand, coalescing into a daggerpoint that pierced through the face of the next Consumed in her path. Blue fire blasted from the demon’s open mouth as it fell from the wall in smoking ruin. Visana pulled herself up one-handed, onto the top of the wall once more, and this time through the rended barrier into the stands.

The napalm smell of dragonfire was replaced by the sickly-sweet stench of corruption as she took in the scene - demons fighting, demons fleeing, demons contorted into withered skeletons by the black tendrils that Minos was spreading across the coliseum. He was fighting two gods now - a savage figure streaked with camo-paint, and the one Visana had seen earlier, his fists running with electric light. They were close, but with all the demons between them and her, she might as well have been behind a second barrier. With a surge of willpower she extended the daggerpoint in her hand into a sword and lashed it in a glowing arc to drive the swarming Consumed back, determined to hold the breach until the others had time to climb up.